Moving to the country: Six reasons I love life in the little smoke

I assumed I was a city girl through and through, until circumstance and a few random decisions delivered me to a seaside town near Byron Bay on the NSW north coast, population 1613.

Six months on, here are six reasons I love living in the little smoke.

1. I can cycle or walk almost everywhere.

I’m more of a flowery-basket than lycra-clad cyclist; so small-town cycling suits me beautifully. I can pedal along mainly flat streets with the sea breeze gently blowing the few strands of hair poking out from my helmet (’cause even in the country I like to obey the law). In the city, I used to strive for “incidental exercise” by puffing up stairs rather than zooming up the lift.  Now my legs get stretched whenever I pop to the shops.

2. It’s easy to join in.

Wherever I go, I am warmly welcomed. Whether it’s an exercise class, a choir or a simple conversation at a café, people are happy to have a chat and get to know a new local. I’ve yet to contemplate that stalwart of country life, the CWA (that’s Country Women’s Association for all you city slickers) but I know if I’m ever game, I won’t be turned away just because my scones are not up to scratch.

3. I’m close to nature.

I know you’re hearing the clanging of a cliché but this one really does ring true. In the city, sunset was simply a prompt to turn the lights on. I avoided sunrise at all costs. Here, in the country, watching the sun rise over the sea is an event well worth setting an alarm for (though I find I now often wake naturally at dawn).

The ebb and flow of the tide is visible every time I cross the creek or visit the beach. I’m on first-name terms with birds that come to be fed at the same time each day. I could start a whole blog on the bizarre insects that reside around here. It is truly relaxing to live amongst nature. Another cliché alert – I honestly feel more grounded. Memo to the ants though: I could do without your regular processions through my crumb-filled kitchen.

4. I like knowing my neighbours.

Even in my city life, I liked having people living over the fence who were up for an occasional chat and could feed my pets while I enjoyed a weekend away. More appreciated were neighbours who would come running if something bad happened and whom I could ring if I’d arrived at work worried about having left the front door open.

With hindsight, this is the clue that I am suited for country life. For, in a town this small, almost everyone lives close enough to be considered a neighbour.

5. Everyone knows everyone.

My smash-repairer neighbour is my physio’s husband. The dishwasher repairer rang his next customer from my kitchen – a person I’d been introduced to not even an hour previously. It’s easy to get to know the connections and feel a part of the community. It’s also an excellent real-life lesson in not saying anything about someone that you wouldn’t say to their face!

6. Social events just happen.

I admit this one fazed me early on – people seemed genuinely pleased to meet me, yet I was underwhelmed by the lack of invitations that are the mainstay of city social life. Soon I realised that organised events aren’t needed in a small town. I chat to a procession of new friends at each local market and know that there’ll be at least one friendly face in town if I’m in the mood for a coffee. I make sure I’m never in a rush when shopping as there’ll always be someone there who I am looking forward to seeing. I’ve enjoyed asking my inner organiser to take a back seat as I welcome the spontaneity of my new country-style social life.

All this might change in another year or three. I might feel suffocated by the closeness of the connections and bored with the limitations. I may be desperate to meet someone who isn’t already friends with everyone I know.

I may run screaming back to the city. Or I may expand my list of things I love about living in the country and stay here for good. I might even learn to bake scones.

Vivienne Pearson is a Domain contributor and, more recently, a small town enthusiast.