Given the close proximity of the center to our house, Yan and I figured it wouldn’t be such a burden to throw a few hours their way.  I’ve been encouraging Yan (and myself) to think of our current unemployment as an opportunity.  My professor at the VCA has said on a number of occasions, “You’re time rich, if not money rich.”  Admitedly, this kind of thinking only goes so far in capitalistic societies like Australia (you gotta pay the rent), but I appreciate the sentiment none the less.

It turns out, I really like hearing people’s stories.  Asking questions, soliciting survey participants, etc., it was all very exciting and invigorating.  My Spanish and Mandarin leave much to be desired, of course, and my Aussie-English is weak, but generally speaking people responded kindly to me and my American sensibilities.  Every now and then we’d come across a guy with a terrible tooth ache or something, get rebuffed, and then have to slink back to our corner of the lobby.  But that was definitely a rarity.  Most folks, regardless of their background, like having their voices heard, if even through a three-page questionnaire.

Also, the NRCHC serves an especially diverse group of people.  The clinic is situated in a series of high-rise projects (what the Aussies antiseptically call ‘public housing’), and its inhabitants naturally reflect a wide variety of ages, languages, cultures, and nationalities.  Most come from East-Asia (China, Vietnam, etc.), but I also ran across some Italians, Greeks, Timorese, Indonesians, Sudanese, all kinds of Aussie natives, and one single-mother from Syria–a vibrant young woman who, upon hearing my accent, promptly disparaged president Bush and then implored me to visit Syria whenever possible.  ”We’re good!  We’re good people,” she said while nursing her young son.  

Yes, ma’am.  You are good people.