KEEP IT IN THE PHAMLY

Before Mum Pham managed an epic house move on her own, and before Little Sissy Pham was sleepwalking off trains; Dad Pham was flying solo in Brisbane. He came up to house hunt. The Phamly was moving away from Melbourne to get a fresh start and Dad was looking for a new home to rent.

He wasn't have much luck though. A family of 5 - two adults on the pension and three high school and uni aged students. We had no income except for government support. Being Vietnamese probably didn't help - Brisbane folk were openly racist back then.

Out of options, Dad went a different tactic. He went to the real estate, inspected a couple of houses in the morning, went home and called Mum Pham and asked her to call in all favours to pull together a house deposit. Because we have amazing family and friends, she managed to get the $10k (yeah, I know, that kills me) they needed in addition to their measly savings, and my cousin was willing to be their guarantor. That same afternoon, Dad went back to the real estate and bought what has now been our Phamly home for nearing two decades.

Yes, you read right. Dad Pham bought a house because he couldn't rent one on his pension. As he says, only in Australia. What a lucky country to live in.




If you want to start from the beginning of Phamly history, read:
Part 1 - O Captain! My Captain! Dad Pham's navy days during the Vietnam War.
Part 2 - P.O.W. Viet Cong Re-education Camp Dad Pham's time as a prisoner of war.
Part 3 - Living with Viet Cong Mum Pham's experience with communism.
Part 4 - Boat People Dad Pham seeks refuge after the war.
Part 5 - Finding Faith Dad finds peace.
Part 6 - When Herr met Frau - Dad Pham meets Mum Pham.
Part 7 - Life in Germany: the early years - Dad Pham sets up life in Germany.
Part 8 - Life in Germany: the later years - Dad gets sick, Mum steps up.
Part 9 - Getting ready for Australia - Mum Pham is on a mission.
Part 10 - Coming to Australia - My first memories of Australia.
Part 11 - Live in Brisbane the first time - The story of why we left Brisbane.
Part 12 - Moving to Melbourne - First impressions.
Part 13 - Life in Melbourne - Dad Pham - The good old days.
Part 14 - The Other Phams - Our neighbours in Melbourne were Phams too.
Part 15 - Life in Melbourne - Mum Pham - Our Sunday Phamly traditions began in Melbourne.
Part 16 - Cats On A Train - Moving to Brisbane
Part 17 - Sleepwalking Scare - Moving to Brisbane continued
Part 18 - A House in Brisbane - Moving to Brisbane continued some more

I learned this year that I don't hate the gym; I just never knew how to use them for my benefit so I thought they weren't for me.

My boyfriend introduced me to gym life again earlier this year. However, he had no idea how to dumb his workouts down enough for me, an office pleb who did swimming and beginner dance to remain on the outskirts of unfit. After the first sessions with Boyfriend I couldn't walk properly for a week, so he introduced me to his friend and trainer, Elliot Burton who runs Physique Academy. He's based in Perth but does online training as well as in-person training.

Who knew Personal Trainers can show you how to make the most of a workout? Not me! My first, last, and only experience with a PT had been at a Snap Fitness and the chick didn't read her audience right. I woke up with a crook neck and couldn't go back to the gym for two and a half weeks, and Little Sissy Pham could barely walk. Never again! I said.

Then I started doing personalised Physique Academy workouts this year. Elliot eased me in with his personalised program, getting me used to the movements, and using muscles I didn't know I have. Physique Academy is based in Perth so my training is managed remotely. I have a training sheet to follow, and whenever I don't know how to do something I can hit up the Physique Academy Facebook group and Elliot will post a video demonstrating and explaining the move.

Now I gym more than my significant other. Sure, he plays basketball and does basketball training sessions that would probably make me vomit and pass out, but I go to the gym more so I win this round! This is the strongest I've ever been. in my day to day life things that used to be cumbersome like refilling the water cooler are now easy. Instead of awkwardly carrying/hugging one bottle, I carry one in each hand up the mother effen stairs. Little Sissy Pham looks at me legs, and exclaims "Whoa you're so tough now."

I've been sick for 6 weeks - run down from juggling work, house move, car hunt, and then Dad Pham had a hospital scare (he's fine, just a dizzy spell). But I'm back in the gym now and it's the best time.

If you've ever felt like me and thought gym isn't for you, it might be the workouts you're doing are not for you. Hit up a professional. I, of course, recommend Physique Academy. He knew how to ease this frumpy office potato into gym life.

Little Sissy Pham was a serial sleepwalker growing up. Most of the time it was harmless episodes like she'd stand up from the couch where she'd fallen asleep and bend double over trying to look for her slides, which were by her feet but in dream land she couldn't see them. Other times were a little scarier like when she'd try to open the front door, though luckily in dream land she couldn't see the deadlock was still locked. The worst was when she'd try to walk out onto the balcony in her sleep. Big Brother Pham caught her that time, and held the door shut while she tried to get out.

Well, that was the worst episode until the last time she sleepwalked. It traumatised her so badly it scared the sleepwalk right out of her.

Mum Pham and her three Phamlings were on a train from Melbourne to meet Dad Pham in our new home, Brisbane. It was the middle of the night and Little Sissy Pham and I were seated next to each other across the aisle from Mum Pham and Big Brother Pham. When the train stopped at a station near the border of NSW-QLD, Little Sissy Pham got up and sleepy me let her out thinking she was going to the bathroom. I flopped over and went promptly back to sleep without realising she was in a sleepwalk.

Little Sissy Pham blinked awake when a horn sounded. She felt disoriented like she was in a dream but fully alert. Where was she? What was she seeing? A train pulling away from a train platform. A train she was meant to be on. She looked around and there were a handful of other train passengers who disembarked but they all left shortly because it was the middle of the night in an isolated regional train station. She was lost.

Little Sissy Pham had no phone, no phone numbers, and no idea where she was. Luckily payphones were still a thing back then, and the phone at that station worked. She called 000 who directed her to the nearest police station, which was a long time away for a 15 year old waiting alone in the middle of the night.

The cops eventually arrived and drove her to their station where they interviewed Little Sissy Pham and couldn't believe her predicament. She didn't have a number for Melbourne because we moved and disconnected the line, and she didn't have a number for Brisbane because we didn't have a number there yet. The young officers tried to keep a straight face but she could hear them laughing at her outside the room. Eventually a senior officer arrived to weigh up the options, and he determined the best plan was their only plan - get Little Sissy Pham back on that train.

They called the trainline and had it stopped, while an officer sped through the regional NSW at 180km/h to get Little Sissy Pham back on the train. It was all very dramatic and Mum Pham got the shock of her life when police officers boarded the train and approached her. She thought she was in trouble for letting us smuggle our cats onto the train, but turns out it was about the daughter she didn't know was lost. Needless to say Little Sissy Pham was devastated none of us had noticed her missing when she was safely returned to the train. After the worst night of her life, she never sleep-walked again.




If you want to start from the beginning of Phamly history, read:
Part 1 - O Captain! My Captain! Dad Pham's navy days during the Vietnam War.
Part 2 - P.O.W. Viet Cong Re-education Camp Dad Pham's time as a prisoner of war.
Part 3 - Living with Viet Cong Mum Pham's experience with communism.
Part 4 - Boat People Dad Pham seeks refuge after the war.
Part 5 - Finding Faith Dad finds peace.
Part 6 - When Herr met Frau - Dad Pham meets Mum Pham.
Part 7 - Life in Germany: the early years - Dad Pham sets up life in Germany.
Part 8 - Life in Germany: the later years - Dad gets sick, Mum steps up.
Part 9 - Getting ready for Australia - Mum Pham is on a mission.
Part 10 - Coming to Australia - My first memories of Australia.
Part 11 - Live in Brisbane the first time - The story of why we left Brisbane.
Part 12 - Moving to Melbourne - First impressions.
Part 13 - Life in Melbourne - Dad Pham - The good old days.
Part 14 - The Other Phams - Our neighbours in Melbourne were Phams too.
Part 15 - Life in Melbourne - Mum Pham - Our Sunday Phamly traditions began in Melbourne.
Part 16 - Cats On A Train - Moving to Brisbane
Part 17 - Sleepwalking Scare - Moving to Brisbane continued
Part 18 - A House in Brisbane - Moving to Brisbane continued some more

Let's talk about balls. Massage balls in cars, specifically.

The great thing about dating someone whose family is very different to the people I know is I get exposed to new ideas. One night while a relative from New Zealand was in town, we went over to their motel for burger dinner. They were in Brisbane for a track & field event (yeah, I know - no way would we have crossed paths if my boyfriend wasn't a relation) and for half the night they talked about work in the sports field.

The dad demonstrated different deep muscle stretches on the kids who were staying in another room but came over for dinner. I thought they were awkward because they are teens for a start, and then teens being bent every which way in front of strangers. It wasn't until after we'd left that I learned those weren't their kids. They were traveling together for the track & field event but the couple's own kids were back in New Zealand. That would explain why the kids were extra awkward being massaged in front of total strangers.

Anyway, during the night I learned that you can sit and lean on massage balls while you're driving. Mind blown. I hadn't thought to do muscle work while driving but it makes total sense. I've been driving with one for nearly a year now, and it's the best thing ever. I arrive at work more awake because I've stimulated blood flow. And then I arrive at home feeling relaxed because I've worked out the knots from sitting and standing at a computer all day long.

I'm passing on this good advice from my boyfriend's people-bending relatives. They know what's what. I have a spiky ball so sometimes when I get over enthusiastic it looks like someone's beaten me with a meat hammer on the back, but a smooth massage ball or tennis ball will work just as well, and probably leave less damage if you go too hard.

Little Sissy Pham and I are very same-same but different. So when Google Photos' face couldn't figure out if we were the same person in our baby photos it got me thinking...

Little Sissy Pham was an accident. Mum Pham and Dad Pham made her 2 months after I was born. I, on the other hand, was planned. And by 'planned' I mean Mum Pham gave up on her dream of being a pharmacist because re-learning everything again in German and working under racist employers was not for her. Instead, she went off the pill and made another baby: me! So while Little Sissy is a happy accident, I am a symbol of a refugee woman's defeat.

Despite our different reasons for being, we had the same lives growing up and are pretty much the same person. Well, in our values and principles. On paper, we aren't alike at all. She's a homeowner who's worked in the public service since forever and has a consistent personal style - I can pick things up in a shop and say, 'This is very you.' I chop and change constantly - rental homes, jobs and personal style.

But our calm energy and the positive vibes we give off are very similar. So similar in fact that even though we don't look alike - I take after Mum, she takes after Dad - people often mistake us for one another. And I don't think it's a casual racist thing; well, not all of the time.

Being less than a year apart, we are super close. We have the same sense of humour and sometimes our in-jokes carry on so long we don't even remember where they originated. We have lived in different cities but always emailed and messaged to stay in each other's lives. Then when we both ended back in Brisbane, we lived at home together, then moved out together, and commuted to work together, and would meet for lunch when we both worked in the city, and timed our exits to catch the same bus home together.

So to answer your question, Google Photos, we are the same person even though we're different people.

There are two main things I remember about The Phamly's move from Melbourne to Brisbane. The first is I had to give up my upright piano because it made more financial sense to sell it to pay to help move the rest of the household than to pay even more to move the heavy item. Adult me now sees why my parents decided to sell it, but at the time teen me was very emotional and upset, and swore to never play piano again. What a little shit I was, I've since forgotten most of my piano training.

The other thing I remember because we repeated the story so often because it's hilarious. We caught the train from Melbourne to Brisbane because back then air travel was way more expensive compared to land travel. On the ride, Mum Pham sat next to Big Brother Pham and I was seated next to Little Sissy Pham. At a train stop in rural NSW she got up to go to the toilet. Being the responsible, caring sister that I am, I flopped over into her seat and promptly fell asleep.

Next thing I know, I wake up because the train has stopped and there's a fuss up ahead where policemen have come onboard our carriage. They start walking down the aisle and everyone is confused wondering what the hell is going on. When the cops stop at Mum Pham, the expression on her face is priceless. I've never seen someone look so shocked yet guilty. Unbeknownst to everyone else there are cats on the train. Our cats.

We smuggled Cuddles and Tigger Pham onto the train in our carry-on because no way was my immigrant mother paying to fly these furballs to Brisbane and no way was this attached teen letting her give our cats away. We cut off the top of a rectangle laundry basket and placed it inside a black bag, and our petrified kitties huddled in there quietly for most of the ride. At one point Cuddles, the braver of the two crawled out while we were both sleeping and was walking about. Little Sissy caught her before anyone else noticed.

Had someone in fact seen? Had they reported us to the authorities? How much trouble were we in if the police was involved? All this was racing through Mum Pham's head when she was looking up at the cops who had asked for her by name.

To her great relief, they didn't know about the cats. They were on the train to return her youngest daughter who had sleep walked off the train in regional NSW with no home address or forwarding phone number because we had left our old house, and nobody thought to give us kids the new address or contact details for Brisbane because we didn't plan on anyone getting lost off the train.

Mum Pham aged a couple of years that night and Little Sissy Pham was so traumatised she never sleep walked again after that night. Tune in next time for the saga that was returning Little Sissy Pham to the train. That's another entertaining story for some regional file, not so much for Little Sissy Pham.




If you want to start from the beginning of Phamly history, read:
Part 1 - O Captain! My Captain! Dad Pham's navy days during the Vietnam War.
Part 2 - P.O.W. Viet Cong Re-education Camp Dad Pham's time as a prisoner of war.
Part 3 - Living with Viet Cong Mum Pham's experience with communism.
Part 4 - Boat People Dad Pham seeks refuge after the war.
Part 5 - Finding Faith Dad finds peace.
Part 6 - When Herr met Frau - Dad Pham meets Mum Pham.
Part 7 - Life in Germany: the early years - Dad Pham sets up life in Germany.
Part 8 - Life in Germany: the later years - Dad gets sick, Mum steps up.
Part 9 - Getting ready for Australia - Mum Pham is on a mission.
Part 10 - Coming to Australia - My first memories of Australia.
Part 11 - Live in Brisbane the first time - The story of why we left Brisbane.
Part 12 - Moving to Melbourne - First impressions.
Part 13 - Life in Melbourne - Dad Pham - The good old days.
Part 14 - The Other Phams - Our neighbours in Melbourne were Phams too.
Part 15 - Life in Melbourne - Mum Pham - Our Sunday Phamly traditions began in Melbourne.
Part 16 - Cats On A Train - Moving to Brisbane
Part 17 - Sleepwalking Scare - Moving to Brisbane continued
Part 18 - A House in Brisbane - Moving to Brisbane continued some more

I visit Mum's grave in Melbourne whenever I am in town and have car to drive out west to lay flowers and pray to her. Mum was never big on flowers, but leaving food there to rot is against the rules and also just wrong. The memorial garden is peaceful and well-maintained. Flowers that begin to die are removed by the groundskeepers so the cemetery is kept nice and fresh for grieving visitors.

I make the trip and lay the flowers to show my respects, but I don't feel connected to Mum in the graveyard. I feel connected to her when I find myself standing with my hand on my hip while I stir food in the stove like she used to. I feel connected when I wash my face in the morning and glimpse myself in the mirror looking like Mum Pham - except that she looks a bit blind because she can't see much when she takes her glasses off to wash her face, whereas my LASIK laser eyes are tired from not enough sleep.

I feel connected to Mum on Mother's Day when we celebrate with Dad Pham because it always falls near his birthday. This year it happened to be his birthday. We celebrated by making Dad one of his favourite dishes - bánh cuốn. But then because he'd spent his morning mopping the kitchen for Phamly feast, he was fast asleep before we got to dessert. That's OK, I'll be back this weekend for our tradition of sleepovers, and 5am wake up calls for the Eurovision Finale.

I used to dress like a toddler's dream in glittery rainbow unicorn everything. Anything bright, colourful and shiny that caught my eye would join my wardrobe. Essentially, I dressed like I was destined to visit the Unicorn Store, and sometimes I still do but usually only on weekends. Last year my preferences changed so I went through a movie maker to make my colours less crazy, and more subtle.

After 30+ years on earth I wanted to dress more my age in the office. I mean, they say to dress the part and my part is no longer new kid on the block, I'm in a senior role because I got old and gained experience. Suddenly I'm in a position where I don't feel comfortable wearing short Garfield dresses or fruity tops and bottoms or fruit in general to work.

This change was also spurred by watching my boyfriend go to a new job looking sharp in dress pants and a button-up every day. There's something nice about looking smart. Then when he got a work uniform, seeing him come home and change into his casual clothes to relax was also very appealing. I haven't really had that separation between work me and home me for most of my life because I've worked in street fashion and music where casual clothes is the uniform. Most people probably wish they could be more themselves at work. Me? I wish I was less homely at work.

These days I've added clean lines, simpler patterns, and solid colours to my work wardrobe. I found a nicely cut, plain dress that I bought in three colourways that I call my 'work uniform.' And have some mix and match tops and skirts so I don't always wear the same outfit to work. I still get the urge to buy bright colours, clashing prints and crazy patterns but when I do, I remind myself I barely wear my current unicorn clothes anymore. Movie makeovers don't happen overnight but they do happen. For me, it took about 6 months to slowly gather work wardrobe staples until one day I realised I hadn't dressed like a kid at work in weeks. Look at me... finally growing up.

I find social media to be quite social, and not dehumanising like naysayers say. Unless it's Tinder and I don't understand why people are so weird and gross. I guess it's because I use social media to connect with people, and see what they share about their lives instead of, you know, trolling strangers because I am unhappy with myself, feel disconnected from humanity, and lack the community that humans evolved from.

I've stayed in touch with interstate friends who I probably would have lost touch with over time. I see their latest life updates so I don't feel like I'm completely out of the loop the next time we catch up in person. I've reconnected with some awesome people I had lost touch with like The Other Phams. They wouldn't have found me otherwise, especially since I legally acquired an English first name since leaving school.

I've gotten jobs from LinkedIn and Facebook. I've hired from Twitter and Instagram. I got my current job via a Facebook status asking for job leads. I ended up meeting with the CEO and two department heads, then they created a role to suit my skills, and over 3.5 years later this is the longest I've stayed in anyone role.

I date a Perth boy so his friends and family got to know me through Facebook, Instagram and FaceTime long before I met many of them in person. We'd been living together for months by the time I met his parents. This Easter I went to Perth mainly to meet Rex, his brother the cutest and fluffiest German shepherd; but also to meet the many faces I've seen online for over a year. Social media is a good starting point but it's always nice to take life offline sometimes to add real friends.

Mum Pham's side of the Phamly are mostly in Melbourne. Whenever I'm back in town, I try to visit my Aunty in Sunshine because it's a trip we did every Sunday with Mum and Dad Pham. Two buses, the 402 from Kensington to Footscray, then the 220 or 410 to Sunshine. Now that I'm all grown up, live comfortably above the poverty line, and have more confidence on the road than I should, I roll up in a fully insured rental car.

Back in the day, my Auntie's house was full. Another aunty and uncle lived there with their family of three. My cousins were in their 20s then and setting up their lives. Then on Sundays Uncle 10 and his family of three, and another cousin with his family of four. The Phamly feasts we have now are nothing on the triple table spread Aunty had in her kitchen.

Us kids would play in the backyard - roller skating, hopscotch, ball games; help pluck herbs in the giant herb garden; pick fruit from the fruit trees, or play tag running circles inside the house. Then whenever our piano teaching cousin had free time, he'd give each of Phamlings a piano lesson.

I never asked Mum Pham if she enjoyed living in Melbourne, but I imagine she would have even though that was when our Phamly struggled to stay above the poverty line. Mum lived for Phamly, she moved away for her own Phamly but she would have thrived being so close to her sisters and brother.

These days, everyone is grown up and spread out. Some have passed away. The big feasts are a thing of the past. Now are visits are quiet, civilised chats over a meal or three. Aunty catches us up on the last year or years of life in Melbourne, and we catch her up on Queensland relatives. Aunty always makes my favourite che dau trang (a sweet rice, black eyed peas and coconut dessert), and regrets that I am vegetarian. "Such a waste." Little Sissy Pham gets a delicious beef noodle salad. There's no such thing as a Phamly catch up without food.



If you want to start from the beginning of Phamly history, read:
Part 1 - O Captain! My Captain! Dad Pham's navy days during the Vietnam War.
Part 2 - P.O.W. Viet Cong Re-education Camp Dad Pham's time as a prisoner of war.
Part 3 - Living with Viet Cong Mum Pham's experience with communism.
Part 4 - Boat People Dad Pham seeks refuge after the war.
Part 5 - Finding Faith Dad finds peace.
Part 6 - When Herr met Frau - Dad Pham meets Mum Pham.
Part 7 - Life in Germany: the early years - Dad Pham sets up life in Germany.
Part 8 - Life in Germany: the later years - Dad gets sick, Mum steps up.
Part 9 - Getting ready for Australia - Mum Pham is on a mission.
Part 10 - Coming to Australia - My first memories of Australia.
Part 11 - Live in Brisbane the first time - The story of why we left Brisbane.
Part 12 - Moving to Melbourne - First impressions.
Part 13 - Life in Melbourne - Dad Pham - The good old days.
Part 14 - The Other Phams - Our neighbours in Melbourne were Phams too.
Part 15 - Life in Melbourne - Mum Pham - Our Sunday Phamly traditions began in Melbourne.
Part 16 - Cats On A Train - Moving to Brisbane
Part 17 - Sleepwalking Scare - Moving to Brisbane continued
Part 18 - A House in Brisbane - Moving to Brisbane continued some more