Friendly Doesn't Mean Friends

If there is one thing in Australia that I'll never accept, it is that of people dropping by unexpectedly, or even calling to say they are in the area and wanting to drop in. My plan is to erect a fence at the front of the property as well, with an electric door for the driveway, which will be shut most of the time. I'm not an unfriendly person, but unless I invite you over, in advance, I probably don't want you here. At times, it feels as though I am living in Bizarro World. For example, when the ex rings up Saturday late afternoon and wants to stop by because she is in the area, I want to say: "Huh, what...well, of course not, it's Saturday night and I am spending it with my husband, alone, which I was looking forward to...duh." Instead I must be nice and say "Sorry but it's not a good time. We're very busy and have plans early tomorrow." I want to be friendly, but I don't want to be friends...but I want to be nice and manage boundaries without upsetting anyone. But at least there is pavlova. Yes, I know, this is a strange segway, but I have to acknowledge sometimes that I am living an utterly and completely different life. As the quote on the bottom of the page says, "Life in a foreign country is a dance of submission and resistance. ...you find yourself giving in easily, with a struggle, or not at all." Pavlova, particularly topped with bananas so as to taste similar yet even better than banana cream pie, I can give into easily. People stopping by unexpectedly I would have to give into with a struggle, but would prefer to give in...not at all.

Apoplectic

Main Entry: ap·o·plec·tic
Pronunciation: \ˌa-pə-ˈplek-tik\
Function: adjective
Etymology: French or Late Latin; French apoplectique, from Late Latin apoplecticus, from Greek apoplēktikos, from apoplēssein
Date: 1611
1: of, relating to, or causing stroke2: affected with, inclined to, or showing symptoms of stroke3: of a kind to cause or apparently cause stroke ; also : greatly excited or angered

This is how I feel today, in regards to Australian customer service. More to come depending on the outcome of my encounter with Barbeques Galore tomorrow.

Kitty Kins

There is a local (feral, I think, although here they call them tom cats and reserve the term feral for people) cat who used to use my lawn for his litter box. Now that I have bought a brand new door mat, he has taken to whizzing on my front door, which is wood. I rang the local council and RSPCA today and if it keeps up, will be inquiring with the neighbours to see if he belongs to anyone, then renting a cage to trap him and dropping him off to the RSPCA, who will give him some time, see if he is microchipped, and if not, unltimately euthanise him. I have bought some herbal sprinkles, removed the doormat and washed the screen and front door in hopes this will send him elsewhere, so I don't have to go the cage route:( He's very cute but....

Happy Cinco de Mayo!

I do actually get to celebrate Cinco de Mayo this year, although a far cry from the proper meal as I will be having fish and chips at the pub, with workmates. Hey, at least I will be at the pub, and perhaps I shall get the Aussie bartender to make me something with tequila in it!

Universal Healthcare -or- Reduced Quality For All

So at the moment I'm $900 out of pocket for medical/dental expenses, with much more to come on the dental side, and hopefully nothing for medical. About $100 of that is getting reimbursed to me from Medicare. Had the doctors and xray techs I'd gone to bulk billed, they would be getting reimbursed, not me, which would be preferable. I've save upwards of $300 on my dental bills with my private hospital & extras cover, which I pay $60 a month for, but that only covers a maximum of $500 total on major dental, and even that is a 12 month wait period, so if I end up needing root canals etc that's all on me. Had this occured in the US, I would have paid $20 total, which was the co-payment for seeing my doctor. My health insurance cost me about $60 per month through work, and my dental $4 per month, again through work. Had I racked up $10,000 in services from the dentist, do you know how much I would have paid? $0, nada! That type of dental insurance doesn't exist in Australia. I had some chest pain and was coughing up blood the other day, so the doctor told me I could wait and see, or go for a chest xray. I chose the latter of course, which turned out fine, and it seems all is well with the chest, both on the xray and physical symptoms, although there is still a need to take it very easy for a week or so, with no strong physical exertion. A doctor in the US would have sent me for some extra tests I'm sure, and maybe even given me some antibiotics to prevent any chest infections. Anyway, this whole rant brings me to the conclusion that if you haven't experience universal healthcare/socialised medicine, don't say you want it just because it gives you a nice, warm and fuzzy feeling to think to everyone being entitled to healthcare. What it means is that yes, everyone gets some coverage, but it will be reduced coverage and less quality care. I agree that children should have coverage regardless, and insurance companies shouldn't be able to discriminate against people with pre-existing conditions, and that coverage should be reasonably priced for all, but it shouldn't be universal, unless you want mediocre care for all to replace good care for many.

Two Grandmas and 3 Teeth

My grandma met her first husband singing in a jazz band. She loved music and singing, and when I was a little girl, she used to play her electric organ for me and sing. The most memorable song, which I remember listening to her sing from the living room while I was laying in bed getting ready to go to sleep, was 'All I Want for Christmas is my Two Front Teeth'. Both my grandmas were special ladies, and many of the women in my life have taught me how to be a strong woman myself. My other grandma once fell down the stairs of her house going down to the basement and had to lay there with a broken arm all night because there was no one to hear her call. I had my first big fall this week, right down the front steps, landing face first on the concrete driveway. I started bawling just like a little kid does after I tasted blood and ran my tongue along my broken teeth. It looks like I may be getting more than 2 front teeth, and well before Christmas, but it could have been much worse. I've had a lot of support from the ladies back home, and the new friends I've met here, so as much as it pains me to have to go through this, there is some positive out of it.

Australia v America

Not a football match, but the differences in communication and culture, are to be discussed, yet again. Yesterday I went to Lush to pick up some shower gel which I've been coveting since Christmas but being thrify about. I couldn't get to the shelf that Sonic Death Monkey was on as there was a woman sniffing and obviously trying to decide which gel to buy. When she took a sniff of Flying Fox I said to her "That one is really nice." and her response was "It smells awful. I thought something in it had gone off." Truly Australian, the honesty there. Had the same conversation taken place in the US, which is unlikely to start with because we don't talk to each other if it's not out of necessity, she would say smiled and said "Yes, it is." then gone home and told her friends and family about the crazy lady who talked to her at the store. You see, us yanks are suspicious creatures, who are keen to show off, but don't always look for the true connection.

On that note, I got a copy of Yoga Journal in the care package from my mother that came yesterday. As I was reading it on the bus this morning, it struck me how 'American' the magazine felt, and how I really don't enjoy it the way I used to. Half of the magazine is adds for things that will allow you to practice yoga whilst looking better, and most of the articles which aren't about yoga positions revolve around things like finding oneself or how to be a better person.

What's wrong with us yanks that we don't know who we are without reading a magazine, and that we need to show a good front, but are wary of talking to and/or getting to know our neighbours?

Friends

I'm referring to the actual physical beings, not the television show. Yesterday I had lunch with a small group of expat women, who came from places as far as the US, Canada, China, Colombia and Singapore. One of our main topics of conversation was that of friendship and the feeling of belonging/identity. Three of are married to Aussie blokes, and for us, this poses a particular challenge. Not that Aussie lads are inherently flawed, but more so that fitting into their circle of friends is a hard path to go down, at times. This could be said for anyone moving to their partner's country and trying to find their way into a life already begun. If I haven't mentioned before, when I got my spousal visa for Australia, a part of the application was a form titled the 'Australian Values Statement' that I had to sign, saying that I agreed to accept Australian values. While I thought the while thing was highly ethnocentrically biased, I did get a slight laugh over the value of 'mateship'. Since then, I've found that it's no laughing matter. I was warned about this by a fellow expat who'd previously lived in Oz, but paid it little attention at the time. My husband's mates go back many, many years. It's wonderful that he has had some of those friends for 15 years or so, and majority of them I have no objection to. In fact, I even like some of them;) What has not been so comfortable is that, in true incestuous Adelaide nature, some of those friends are also ex-girlfriends. One of those has been very nice to me and is well and truly over my man, so it's less of an issue these days. That being said, it was a little odd going to a bbq the other month. The scenario: myself, my husband, his best mate, his best mate's wife (who is best mate's with my husband's ex-fiance), hubs ex-fiance, and hub's ex-fiance's new boyfriend. That is a mouthful, hey? Now, as I said, I like the ex, she's been super nice and welcoming to me and actually gone out of her way in doing so, and she's my husband's clubbing partner, which means I know he's hanging out with quality people at least when he does go out amongst the less geriatric crowd;) That being said, there is something about spending your Saturday night with someone your husband has seen naked...a lot. There was a moment that evening when hubs and best mate were chatting away, ex and best mate's wife were chatting away, and ex's new boyfriend and I just looked at each other and had a good eye roll.

Part of my not feeling like I fit in here, or in with the hub's crowd more specifically, is my own insecurity, part of it is that I have little in common (could be perception) with the mates, that they have this bond that I'm going to have to be patient to wait to be any part of, and part of it could be that I'm not trying hard enough. I'm hopeful than when the porch is done, the dining room is cleaned up, and the heater is in, I can actually begin to entertain a bit more and rectify some of this. In the meantime, it's an other example of the patience and flexibility needed in the expat lifestyle.

In the Grand 'Ole English Tradition

Australians, at least here in Adelaide, seem to relish in holding onto certain English traditions. Cuisine is a prime example, fish 'n chips being on every pub menu, servings of Christmas pudding and/or fruit cake placed on every holiday table, and ridiculously huge chocolate eggs everywhere you look at Easter. Taking a public holiday for Boxing Day and celebrating the cricket is standard, and of course keeping the Queen as the head of state....for now anyway.

The most English, and to my mind most offensive 'Briticism' is the tradition of being sick in the street. As I may have mentioned once or twice before, it doesn't take until the end of the night, but vomit starts to appear on the pavement around 10 or 11pm. Happy hour may have something to do with this, so too may alco-pops, which fuel binge drinking. The thing about binge drinking is that is causes no embarrassment to those who partake here. I'm not sure if this indicates a lack of values impressed upon Australians whilst growing up, or if it is truly a part of the national culture. I am not the only one who thinks this tradition needs to be curbed. The local politicians, headed by Julia Gillard, are pushing to have the tax on alco-pops increased. As alcohol here in Oz is expensive as is, many are crying out that this is an infringement on their right to get shit-faced at a reasonable price, and appealing for public empathy by decrying the measure as revenue raising. I for one am all for it, particularly if the extra funds are used to bring on more police persons and night-time street cleaners!

Hobart - A Tale of Two Heads, part 2

The new plan is to do a write up on every city/location I visit as a tourist, in a vain attempt to progress as an amateur (travel) writer. I've been doing some writing on topics such as travel, the expat experience, and marriage over the past few months, all for free of course, and submitted to various web sites and blogs (links are on the left hand side if you haven't already seen). Hobart is next, so I think I'll just play around here to begin with.

As my third city to see in Australia, it was a toss up between Melbourne and Hobart. With four days off for the Easter holiday, adding a couple more on wasn't a problem to extend the 'respite' from the rigours of life in Adelaide a bit longer;) The budget airlines were competing for our business, and as Tiger managed a bit better of a deal to Tassie, we decided to save Melbourne for a time when we could afford a week or more, and do the trip properly by going the Great Ocean Road. So we booked our flights, sorted out a private room at Hobart Hostel, looked through the Lonely Planet and spoke to a few mates, then shelved any further plans until about a week before the trip. Feeling too cheap to pay for a rental car, we decided on doing it all by foot and public transport, which worked out surprisingly well.

Landing in Hobart at lunchtime on the Wednesday before Easter weekend, we dropped our bags at the hostel and headed out to have a look around the city and grab some lunch. After a wander through the Elizabeth Street Mall, we decided to go for the $7 foot-long special at Subway and listen to some street entertainment. Not your typical buskers were these few young lads playing classical music. A further wander around the waterfront brought us to the Lark Distillery, recommended by one of my workmates for a good nip. Although what they have on offer is expensive, even for Australia, you can get a good range of tasting samples for $7.50. The key is to do like us and share, as well as ask for more of what they have out than what they initially offer. If you don't behave like a twat, and the bartender is nice, which they all seem to be there, you can happily enjoy enough to get slightly warm. On offer is a range of scotch whiskey, gin, apple and cherry liqueurs, as well as some lovely pepperberry bush liqueur, made with an herb unique to Tassie.

On Thursday we attempted to make the best of our last day with public transport, so we headed off to the Cadbury Factory. About 4 hours and $40 removed, each, we came back into town with bags heavily laden with chocolates etc. Although the costs were extremely reasonable on the chocs, we both agreed that the $15 charge for the 'factory tour' was the biggest rip off we'd encountered in our history as tourists. For the fee, we were sat in front of a TV screen for 1/2 an hour and given the tiniest box of Favourites you ever did see. Apparently the factory has been closed to visitors for over a year, due to health and safety reasons. I strongly encourage you to take public transport to Cadbury ($4.40 all day bus pass in Hobart) and skip the 'tour' at Cadbury in favour of spending the extra cash on the important stuff. A more worthwhile tour is the $10 Hobart Penitentiary Ghost Tour, which we went on later that night.

Unfortunately we didn't make the best use of our all day bus pass, and forgot we wanted to go to Richmond, a pictueresque little town about a 1/2 an hour from Hobart. After a long walk through Battery Point and Salamanca Place on Friday, we called around and found out there was a means of transport, for $25 each, that would get us to Richmond. Although it killed us to shell out, it was well worth going. The oldest bridge in Australia was awaiting our viewing pleasure, and various other architectural beauties took us about 2 hours to see, after which we stopped at the Richmond Arms Hotel for a pint. The Royal Tasmanian Botanic Gardens was a must see on the way back into Hobart, where we quickly made a path across the lawn to see all we could in the 1/2 hour we had left until closing. That evening we headed off to Axum Ethiopian Restaurant, which also doubles as an internet cafe. We were the only diners there, and it wasn't the best Ethiopian we had, but after a day of hiking around, it was a welcome meal.

On Sunday, our last day in Hobart, and also Easter, we did an hour long hike up to the Cascade Brewery for a long lunch and beer tasting. We decided to forego the tour and instead spent about 3 hours trying a few brews, having a tasty meal and wandering the grounds. It was well worth the walk there, and afterwards we cut across, still on foot, to Wrest Point, where we treated ourselves to a couple of Long Islands and a sit outside the Casino, where we watched a fantastic sunset. A short walk further on was Sandy Bay, where we stopped for Chinese before heading back to the hostel.

As you can see there is plenty to do in Hobart, even on foot. We'll definitely be back to Tassie, and might even get a car next time;)