Blog Expat Interview

I was recently interviewed by blogexpat.com for their Expat Interviews series. You can check out the interview here. It may be a minor acknowledgment but it's nice to know people are reading my blog!

More soon!

When It Comes to Perplexing Accents, The Knife Cuts Both Ways

Australians who have travelled to the USA will often return home with stories of how their accents caused confusion among the American natives. "I told the waiter we'd like to order and he thought I said I'd like some water!" they might recall. Time and time again I'm reminded how Americans struggle to grasp the Australian accent, something I have seen for myself first hand. But while it is absolutely true, and quite funny, I'd like to point out that this common comical phenomenon is not one-sided.

Despite the obvious American influence down here (including a pervasive presence on Australian television, and the world over for the matter), you may be surprised that I run into Aussies all the time who get flustered by my accent. When I tell my friends here about it, they find it hard to believe. But trust me, it happens frequently. The two most recent incidents are as follows:

1. When purchasing some rice at a local organic grocery store, I asked the woman ringing me up if she had some tape so I could secure the paper bag. "Sorry, what are you after?" she asked. I figured I just spoke too fast, or she wasn't really paying attention or something. "Oh, just some tape fo the bag please." Awkward laugh. Confused smile. "Sorry, some...?" she said, bewildered. "Some tape," I said, slowly, "so I can tape up the bag so the rice won't come out on the walk home." I even took my finger and slid it across the fold of the bag. I think it took one more time before the lightbulb went off and I got my tape. We both laughed. I could tell she was dumbfounded as to why it took her so long to comprehend what I was saying.

2. Yesterday I was at a fruit and veg shop in The Gap grabbing some milk, tomatoes, and something to cook up for dinner. There's a butcher and deli in the back. I was after some fish. I didn't see any but I asked anyway. "Do you have any fish?" She looked confused immediately. "Do we have any what?" She inquired. "Oh, um, fish. . . Fish?" She was smiling, but looked at me as if I was speaking another language. "Fish," I repeated, "or. . . seafood. Seafood?" I said nervously, though proud of myself for finding a different way to ask. It was getting quite awkward at this stage. "Oh! Seafood!" she exclaimed. "No sorry, we don't sell fresh seafood here." She was extremely relieved, although I'm still not sure whether she ever figured out I was saying fish to begin with.

What's interesting about these two incidents is that the way I say "tape" and "fish" isn't so different from the way Aussies say it. I think both women were just so thrown off by the presence of my accent that they thought about every single word I was saying way too much. Or perhaps it's because what I was asking wasn't so common and my accent made them question if they were mishearing me, even if they weren't.

I certainly concede that Australians travelling to the U.S. will run into this problem much more regularly than Americans down here. But it does happen. And when it does, it's a stark reminder that I'm still just a foreigner in this land.

Baby, It's Hot Outside: Christmas in Australia

So I gave in a bought a Christmas tree. Don't get me wrong, I have nothing against Christmas trees, or Christmas decorations, or good old fashioned holiday cheer. But I'm certainly not one to go overboard. Just a healthy dose of jubilation is good enough for me. The problem is, it just doesn't feel like the holidays to me, and the explanation for this is simple: It's summer down under and the days are longer, hotter, and sweatier. Granted, it's been unseasonably mild so far, but it's summer nevertheless. It's time for sunscreen, singlets, and sunnies; the three Ss are in full swing. Summer time seems to overshadow Christmas time here and it's hard for me to make room for both. 

People often say, "Oh, but you're from California, so it's probably about the same, right?" Um, no. Sure, I'm not used to a wintry white Christmas, where it's essential to roam around in gloves and those dorky ear muffs, but that doesn't mean it's 80-plus degrees and humid. Shorter days and a brisk breeze are the norm, thank you very much, not hot pavement and endless barbecues.

Still, when pressed by a good friend about my lack of tree, I realized I was bordering on Grinchiness, a trait I had no intention of ever displaying. But it's not my tradition to buy a plastic tree, like many Aussies do. (They use them year after year, and most look pretty good, but I need that real pine smell or it's a deal breaker.) And I wasn't about to buy a dead tree either. My mom would often buy a live tree, one that could grow and be planted in the backyard after the season was over. For me, that's the best way to go and makes me feel happier about the whole strange tradition. So I called around to a number of Brisbane nurseries and was surprised to find most of them sold potted, live trees. I decided on a small one, thinking I'd like to watch it grow. It's quirky and beautiful—and absolutely perfect for us.

We decorated while listening to a few classic Christmas tunes. 

I'll move it to a bigger pot in the new year so it can grow a bit higher than my waist.

After we decorated the tree (which took a total of five minutes) I decided to chuck out all my assumptions of what the holidays should be and embrace the traditions of Australia's summer/holidays/festive season. So we fired up the barbecue and sat on the deck, sipping a lightly spiced rosé and lighting citronella candles to keep the mozzies away (they love me.)

At least I was comforted by my poinsettia, a plant that has always symbolized the holidays for me. 

We decided to grill some steak and veggies for fajitas. 

Our homemade marinade seasoned the filling nicely.

Dinner was ready just in time to watch this magnificent sunset. It coloured our little pocket of the world beautifully.

I am opening up to Australia's summertime holiday season (I mean who doesn't love warm weather and barbecues?) but I'm still missing family from down here and look forward to the day they can sit on this deck and take in the sunset with me.

You Spell Traveler, I Spell Traveller

When I first learned handwriting I switched back and forth between my right and left hands. After a while I was told to make a decision. Which hand would I use for the rest of my life? I eventually chose the left and, till this day, I'm not sure why. (I'm also not sure why I had to choose. Surely it would only be an advantage to be able to write with both, don't you think?) What I find interesting is that, apart from handwriting, I still use my right hand for a number of tasks. If I'm using a knife, for example, I slice with my right hand. Apparently I was never really able to relinquish all control of one-handed tasks to my left hand.

And so it will be with spelling. 

After moving to Australia in 2003 I gradually began adopting its British-derived spelling rules. I had to swap for work reasons, and then, a few years later, for University reasons. (I certainly didn't want to lose points for "incorrect" spelling on my essays!) Six years later I moved back to the United States, where I wrote for magazines, and eventually became a reporter. Writing was my bread and butter. It was a conscious effort, but I eventually got back to spelling the way I was originally taught. It's not realise, it's realize, I had to remind myself. 

Still, when writing wasn't work-related, and I was free to just write by my own rules, I noticed that I'd spell some words the British way and other words the American way. This natural inclination to spell both ways is a good metaphor for how I've come to see myself. Having lived the majority of my adult life in Australia, I identify strongly with both countries. And this is reflected in my spelling. Some days I write license, others it's licence. Some days I long for a Christmas break that isn't punctuated by sweltering heat; other days I'm grateful to spend it with my feet in the sand, chowing down on some shrimp prawns. 

Now that I'm back in Australia I'm making the switch again––both with spelling and with living.

Noah Webster

And for you trivia buffs, you can thank Noah Webster (1758-1843) for the American rules. He was a teacher and lexicographer, who some say helped define American culture.  His strong nationalism drove him to write an American spelling book in 1783, in an effort to further distance America from British influence. Centre became center, analyse became anaylze, defence became defense, and so on. Who knew rearranging letters and trading Ss for Zs could help solidify identity?