What I learned from living in a country town

Posted on 26 October, 2020

My love affair with Bungendore runs deep.

It was a relatively brief entanglement by local standards and took me completely by surprise, but the effect it had on my heart will stay with me for many years to come.

Aside from the obvious perks—glorious landscape, multiple excellent cafes and the fact that you can always get a park—living in Bungendore taught me some really valuable life lessons.

I learned how to slow the flip down

Everything moves at a pretty delightful pace in Bungendore. It’s not crazy slow, but it’s not at all rushed. I walked almost everywhere, and anywhere, I could. At the top of my street was open paddock, and a short walk away was a hill covered in pine trees. Literally, within minutes of stepping out my front door I could immerse myself in peace, nature and the occasional bleating sheep.

Sometimes I was strolling with more purpose, like for fresh-made coffee after a sleepless night with a newborn, or running errands (because you can do just about everything you need to in Bungendore—post office? Check! Pharmacy? Check! Vet-grade cat food for my over-indulged cats? Check!).

Once I even walked home after a delightfully tipsy dinner at the French restaurant. Aside from the obvious health benefits, I learned that when you can walk everywhere, you invariably do. And when you do, you allow more time to get things done.

You slow everything down, and there’s a more conscious, deliberate quality to life. And when you achieve that, well. I don’t want to come off as overly smug but let’s just say I *may* have achieved enlightenment.

I also (re)learned about the importance of human connection and made new friends

Actual adult, in-person friends. Canberra can have a bit of a reputation for being hard to crack socially and to be honest my friendship books have been largely closed for some time.

But through a few chance encounters, one of them being that I moved in across the road from arguably Bungendore’s most generous and well-networked resident (who obviously became my street bestie), I connected with some truly excellent people.

I officially formed the Real Housewives of Bungendore (100% my idea, cannot confirm any of the others are on board) with some fabulous women from book club and parents group, joined local families for coffee and homemade treats at the local church hall on the first Sunday of the month and invited the whole street over for Christmas drinks in my garage.

These small, seemingly insignificant interactions were more than just small talk though—they created genuine connections with people that I would not have otherwise met and I was reminded of the power of community. Friendships were forged over bonfires and coffee and impromptu playdates at the park. Support was offered wherever it was needed and I found myself the recipient of random acts of kindness and care.

Small gift packages left at my front door, coffee brought to my doorstep because I had run out, neighbours rushing to help me save my trampoline from flying over the back fence in a freak storm. When one of my cats took to sunning himself in a garden several streets away, my neighbour (who to this day I still haven’t met in person) tracked down my contact details to let me know where he was so I wouldn’t worry.

Then she started sending regular updates when he arrived at her place, photos of him enjoying his ‘other’ home and messages when he’d left of an evening so I knew when to expect him for dinner.

When I was self-isolating on maternity leave with three children, people from my community called me. On the actual phone. Simply to check-in.

I now understand the power of acting locally

Living in a small country town during bushfires and a global pandemic really brought home just how reliant on local and seasonal trade small businesses are. It’s not something I was immune to in Canberra, of course, but when the vast majority of places you shop are owner-operated its very clear that the choices you make about where you spend your money matter.

Luckily for me, Bungendore was the perfect place to be self-isolating. I think I left town twice in eight weeks during that period and it wasn’t because I needed supplies. I mean, the IGA alone is next level (and I have lived in Ainslie, so my bar for IGAs is pretty high) and there’s a full selection of Canberra region wines at the bottle shop.

But the best part was our local businesses getting creative about how they could still trade during the restrictions. Gelato delivered to my door? Yes please. Pub meals to go? Can handle a parmi in my PJs. Socially distanced farmers market? Ok, if I must.

It was (and still is) a really tough time for so many but it was amazing to see businesses working out what they could do to continue trading and then being part of collective community effort to support them wherever we could. It felt like it made a difference.

As I packed up my car and drove out of Bungendore for the last time as a resident last month, I began to realise that I had somehow missed so many opportunities to be part of a community in my adult life.

Yet in Bungendore it’s almost impossible to avoid. You can’t help but participate when there is such a culture of care for one another, and once you’re in it you wonder how you ever managed without it.

I am so incredibly grateful for my time as a Bungendore resident. To the people, the community and the land on which it sits. The joy of living there is something that will stay with me forever and I take comfort in knowing I can always take a quick trip down the Federal Highway for coffee and company in my new favourite place, with some of my new favourite people.

And luckily, so can you. I hope you do.

Feature image: Adam McGrath