Return to Oz

I'm going to return to Melbourne soon- fantastic, right? If you've followed my various blogs over the years, then you'll know the twelve months I lived there was possibly the happiest of my life. And yet, I'm apprehensive.

I'm going back for several reasons: it's cheaper to travel there from Japan than from England; it'll be nice and cool after the unbearable humidity of Hyogo; because I have old friends there it's a nice compromise between travelling alone, which can get dull, and traveling in a group, which can get stifling over long periods. That is, if people want to meet with me.

I like to think that I made quite a few friends during my year abroad, but I haven't seen anyone from Melbourne in the flesh since 2013, excepting David, who randomly popped up in Paris. I've changed, I imagine they've changed; I haven't spoken to most of them in three years and I worry we'll have nothing to say to one another.
When I returned to Edinburgh, there were a couple of relationships I just couldn't re-establish: they'd been too much based on a mix of easy proximity and who we used to be that distance and personal growth put the kibosh on our camaraderie. But that was ok because there were new people I could make friends with and even some old acquaintances who I reassessed. It was mostly tit for tat. But when I return to Australia it won't be in an academic context- there won't be meet-and-greets: if I don't click with my old friends, I'll just be alone for three weeks in a city I kind of remember.
Some people I've been in contact with have jumped at the chance to see me. Others I had hoped would be responsive have instead been eerily silent. I wasn't expecting everyone to want to see me... except I sort of was. I don't think it's a lot to ask for one coffee after three years, but maybe people have just forgotten about me. After all, I doubt that year was anywhere near as important to them as it was to me.

But that's not even what worries me most. My year in Melbourne was by no means perfect, but, as I said, it's probably the happiest I've ever felt.. An I don't have any delusions that that's because Melbourne is my True Home or anything - it's because it was so different and new, I had no responsibilities and the year preceding it had been pretty terrible. Two of those things won't be true this time (I'll still have no responsibilities).
I don't expect this holiday to match or even come close to that year but I fear that if I don't enjoy myself this time, Melbourne will be tainted in my eyes forever. I'm aware that I rose-tint my time in Australia and that's stupid (and possibly even dangerous) but in a way it's pleasing to have a time in my life which I see as idyllic and quixotic. An era about which I can wax nostalgic and compare all other periods to, knowing that of course they will be found severely wanting.
I don't want to think of Melbourne as real place in much the same way as I don't want to see my parents as real people. I want the fantasy and at the moment I actually have it- I'm scared that I'm giving that up for a holiday. It had better at least be cool.