“My parents had their struggles but always said they were so glad they came. Lots of funny stories too. My mum went to get an ice cream and was asked single or double, she said oh no I’m married.”

I belong to the first generation of migrants. My father, a former Dutch Navy serviceman who served in Indonesia, returned to the Netherlands disliking the cold. In 1952, he married my mother, and together they journeyed to Australia on an Italian boat, a six-week voyage that left my mother disenchanted with pasta after daily consumption on the ship.

Having experienced migration through my parents, my advice to those in a similar position is to “Love every day of the adventure.” As a son of migrants, I sometimes grapple with identifying which country truly feels like home, although I appreciate and feel blessed to be Australian.

In an effort to assimilate, my parents alternated between speaking Dutch occasionally at home. Personally, I stay connected to my heritage by savouring the food and making frequent visits.

For migrants, surrounding oneself with like-minded individuals can be a source of support. Proudly, I am the son of migrant parents who gave back to Australia through community service, earning my dad an OAM (Medal of the Order of Australia) for his contributions.

Maintaining connections with various migrants, I’ve learned valuable skills from them—chiefly, tolerance and a love for diverse cuisines.