If I sit still long enough, I can hear them. The ghosts of summer past. In the quietness of the dining room after midnight as I sit with my mug of warm Horlics, I can almost feel the life pulsate in the room. Images of past memories flood my mind. I can hear the laughter, the insane cackling of tired house assistants after a long day. Dinner for a full house and then clean up. There is singing, even if it is bad, and yet no one cares. There is a dance created for the sole purpose of not colliding with another comrade. A hustle and bustle of madness that only someone who has experienced it could fully understand. I can feel myself smile at the distant memory.
Then I begin to wonder that maybe, just maybe; these aren’t just my summer ghosts. I wonder that perhaps some how there is a part of everyone still in the building, just like there is a part of Pax Lodge in the heart of every staff member, every volunteer. Even perhaps every guest.
As this thought crosses my mind I suddenly can picture the summer of session participants leaving bits of lettuce or cheese squished on the dining room floor after making their packed lunches. I can picture food in the most obscure places after a house full of brownies have eaten a meal. Morning teas of conference attendees asking for more milk or indeed just asking about us and what we do. The room holds many memories, some public and some just the staff are aware of. All of those that I have I am sure there have been many ghosts from the past see them too, perhaps silently they have been there as well, smiling.
Decidedly I realise that perhaps it’s time I go to bed and be rested for a new day, what ever it may bring. I pass from the dining room, through to reception where I stop and pause at the shut office door. Beyond it lies a room, which has become the second part of my Pax Lodge story. In the silence of my mind I hear the phone ring, I can hear someone on the other end asking about a room upgrade or availability. I can picture myself sitting at the desk as Erin Gow declares she’d dropped the recycling key in the can bin. I can see Janet walk past the reception window a dozen times like one of those ducks in a target gallery. There’s the lingering of staff waiting for the mailman, although I too am guilty of waiting for him. Various memories of checking in guests, in fact my very first check in were a Japanese Family who spoke very Basic English.
Reception also holds the saddest of memories, farewells to staff whose time at Pax Lodge has come to an end. The sound of a tear streaked chorus of the Pax Lodge song is enough to send me on my way. I don’t want to linger in the sadness of a good bye when more often than not it’s merely a new beginning.
Step by step I make my way up to the first floor. When I stand on the flat I remember something else. The somewhat humorous memories of a temporary lapse in Monique’s ability to walk down a flight of stairs. Through the window in the door I can see the guest kitchen reminding me of a time where all but one drawers in the LTR fridge were filled with Ben and Jerry’s ice-cream. I know that this floor holds the House Assistant corridor, a place that I called home for close to six months. That part of my life holds far too many memories to try and being to explain.
Onwards and upwards I go, to my new home on the second floor.
The landing inside the door houses a dirty laundry basket that many times has been seen overflowing with sheets. I even believe at one point it was a part of a relay race down the corridor. But that was before my time and yet it still makes me laugh. One of those crazy things you do to amuse yourself, to release some stress or pressure.
Down my little corridor I pass Maria Plaza’s old room and laugh at my farewell to her. One of the most creative minds I have ever met and yet its my final moments with her that stay. Yes that’s right. I bid farewell to the mastermind behind the Anniversary visuals as she stood there in a bath towel, fresh from the shower. I feel saddened that she can’t be here for this, and yet in spirit I am sure she’s in the room somewhere, laughing in that incredible way she does. Perhaps even nursing a stray tear because apparently that’s what my words can do, bring a tear to the eye.
Into my room I go and close the door. I wonder how many others have called this square their own. A small section of Pax Lodge to escape to. It took me a long time to make it feel like mine. When I arrived the room belonged to the Programme Assistant, Ruth. After she left it was temporarily occupied by a long term resident called Alex. Now though it feels like Rachael’s Room. Scattered across my walls are many photos of all the people who have been a part of my life, and indeed a part of my Pax Lodge story. They are the people who watch over me each night, even if they cannot physically be here.
As I lay in my bed in the darkness many thoughts run through my head. I am the sort of person who sometimes finds it hard to switch off. But on this particular night it’s the words of others, which flood my consciousness. Having seen many of the former staff memories come through for the Anniversary, I realise that regardless of the time spent here or the year in which they came, Pax Lodge somehow changed each and everyone one of their lives. For some the change was small yet for others it completely changed the person they were and the person they were becoming.
There have been many who’ve faced a language barrier. For some the Pax Lodge experience was a complete change of culture. Others confronted the challenge of being in another country for the first time. And yet the one link they all had, the one thing which stuck out for all of them, were the people who were apart of that chapter of their life.
I come to realise that I am not the only person to come here with one outlook on life and leave with one entirely different. It amazed me at how many responses we received outlining the drastic changes Pax Lodge brought into people’s lives. Be it a period of personal growth, or understanding or even an awakening, this building housed their rebirth. Every wall, every room, every chair or inch of carpet can tell you hundreds of stories.
For fifteen years the very building we stand in has been a significant icon in hundreds if not thousands of peoples lives. From guests to volunteers, to committee members and most prominently the staff, Pax Lodge represents both peace in the literal sense and finding a form of peace within ourselves.
My time here may only be sixteen months of an incredible fifteen years but even now just half way through that time, I can see the changes Pax Lodge has bestowed upon me. I am now more aware of the things I don’t want in my life. I’ve come from a lifestyle that is not healthy, especially for someone so young and now I recognise the need to change that. Much to my own surprise I now have a strong desire to settle down and make a more permanent life. I am looking forward to my future more than ever.
And like those before me, the people I have shared this adventure with have made it all the more worth while. I have met people who have changed the way I view the world. Those people will always hold a special place in my heart for making this the experience that is has been. It is their courage and strength that constantly reminds me why I am here, halfway across the world from the people and home I care most about.
As I roll over and close my eyes, the house finally settles into silence. It is now that I am sure the ghosts of those before me come out to play. To keep spirit in the place where strangers soon are friends. But more importantly than friends, they become family.
Rachael Marchese
Guides Australia
House Assistant June – October 2005
Booking Assistant November 2005 – October 2006
