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Published: November 26th 2012
Living in Sydney is not so different to living in New Zealand. Sometimes it feels like I've just moved to a much bigger city with better weather down the road. The cultures are very similar and we speak the same language...most of the time. But then again there are some key cultural and language differences which can trip you up.
Firstly the rugby. Where I'm from, if you say you are watching rugby, then you are watching rugby union. If you want to watch rugby league then you say you are watching the league. Here though when you mention you watched the rugby in the weekend, it could be rugby, league or AFL (what I know of as Aussie Rules). And sadly, it's not very likely to be actual rugby. True rugby fans seem quite thin on the ground here. Maybe because that's because the Wannabies, oops Wallabies, are just not very good? I discovered first hand that going to a pub to watch an All Blacks match takes persistence and a sense of adventure. A visiting friend from New Zealand was staying for the weekend, which happened to coincide with NZ vs Argentina. The game was playing at 5.30pm
Australian time, and I had confidently declared that there were plenty of pubs just up the road from me and we could watch the game there. Unfortunately that night coincided with Grand Finals in both AFL and NRL (although incidentally, although they call them Grand Finals, neither of the games were actual finals - how weird is that!) so we ended up traipsing from one pub to another, until we eventually ended up in the seediest bar with the grimmest people in the worst part of the strip. I launched into conversation with someone who I think works there as a bouncer (but really he could have been anyone), while Becs started backing out the door, "We're not staying here!". She's probably right, but call yourself an All Blacks fan? Finally we stumbled across one last bar and begged them to find us a television showing our game. It was 5.25, things were looking grim. The barman looked doubtful, but then suggested that if we didn't mind, we could sit down the back in the empty bar and he'd turn it over to the All Blacks for us. Phew. We made it, just in time for the haka.....and another victory.
I recently had a work trip to Brisbane, and luckily missed "schoolies" week. I had no idea what schoolies week was - but it's a strangely Australian phenomenon where school leavers celebrate the end of exams, and take off for a week to celebrate the end of their schooling. As 17 and 18 year olds are want to do, this largely involves drinking to excess and doing stupid things. Usually they head off for a week, with the Gold Coast, Byron Bay, Bali all being popular destinations. NSW doesn't seem to escape either, and recently on the way to the gym one morning I dodged four separate pools of vomit outside a popular nightclub.....Australians laugh indulgently...yep, just schoolies week.
Recently I was lucky enough to be invited up to the Central Coast to stay with a work friend for the weekend. As well as a tour of the beautiful beaches and cute little holiday towns, we had a delicious barbeque dinner where I educated them on the proper words for some things. I always chuckle when I hear an Aussie talk about their "thongs", as every single time I imagine the underwear version. When I explained that the
proper name is actually "jandals" they flat out didn't believe me. In fact Peter, Debbie's husband, told me that I was making it up. I forgave them for their lack of belief because of the outstanding hospitality over the weekend, and for introducing me to the beauty of the NSW Central Coast. I am very keen to return again.
Jandals and thongs is not the only thing which will confound me. When I went to Uluru by bus, I had hours and hours to mull over what on earth the strange signs indicating "Grid" might be. I peered out the window looking for the power stations and wondering why on earth the road signs were telling us about the upcoming grid. I was very perplexed, until the woman sitting next to me happened to note to me in passing, "I wonder why they have so many cattle grids out here?". The light dawned, the grids are
cattle stops.
However in reverse, saying I'm off to the "dairy" is an easy way to confuse the Australians. Generally too polite to ask which dairy farm I'm heading to and why, when if all I need is a newspaper I can
get it at the local convenience store. I frequently forget about this one, so at least the people I work with are being educated! They've also learned about chilly bins, which is an infinitely more sensible term than an "eskie", which I believe is short for Eskimo something or rather. Makes no sense whatsoever!
One true blue Aussie saying which I have heard several times since I've been here is, "Fair Dinkum"! I love it when I hear this, as I have done during some very dry work meetings, and I always have to suppress an urge to giggle. I didn't realise that people actually said this outside of cheesy Australian television. It's a sure fire reminder I'm not at home anymore.
Sometimes though there's no culture clash whatsoever. In a local cafe in Potts Point with some friends for brunch we befriended a little boy, about 3 or 4 years old, who'd popped in with his mother for her coffee. We asked him what his name was but couldn't hear him properly when he responded and asked him about three times to repeat himself. Finally he stomped his foot and yelled very loudly, "JUDE!! J...U....D....E...FART FART!" Everyone
laughed, except for his mother, who was completely mortified.
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Dancing Dave
David Hooper
EVEN IF
Even if ya can't talk proper...you can still dance & play African drums...and that's the main thing!