Learning to Speak Australian

It's been 7 weeks now since we arrived in the great land down under. It is possible that it's actually been longer.  If it has been, and you know that, please don't tell me.  I don't actually want to know.  Time really flies when you are having the time of your life.

 We are learning to speak Australian. Monkey was likely the quickest to assimilate. He's been so quick that I will admit that I almost burst out laughing the other day when he came in to the office asking me for a rubber (eraser).  

We've all learned that rubbish goes in the bin, that that when we go for "tea" we have been invited for a meal (and often no actual tea needs to be consumed), "Heaps" means "lots" and to "stuff something up" is to make a mistake. I have an English brother-in-law so I've been okay with the transition from "sweatshirt" to "jumper", from "trunk" to "boot" and have been smart enough not to refer to my "fanny pack".  

The first many times I was asked "how are you going?" It felt similar to "here's your hat what's your hurry?", I've gotten more used to it now. It is the Aussie equivalent of "how are you?" 

I continue to struggle with meal terms.  Those who know me well understand that I, much like Roxy, am very food motivated.  When you mess with my food it strikes at the very core of who I am.

So some failures in the food department: we went to a BBQ and were served pizza and told that it was the entrée. Fair enough, we all filled up on pizza...only to discover that "entrée" means appetizer here. They must have thought that we eat heaps!!!

I invited a family over for "supper".  Apparently husband and wife looked at each other, very confused and rang (called) me to clarify what the invite was for.  I had apparently invited them to come for a pre-bedtime meal/snack...on a Monday.

I can order coffee at Starbucks (the closest one is around 350km from here), but can not even begin to understand what on earth is happening with coffee over here.  There are "long whites" and "short darks" and I can't follow.  I generally don't drink coffee so when I am in a position to order one I still put on my best "I am a stupid tourist" face and describe the things that I want in my cup (milk, chocolate, coffee in some form).

On Monday, as we drove back from Melbourne I asked a woman in a café in a very small town where the washroom was (something I had been cautioned against early on, but have not run in to trouble with, so I forgot about it) and she looked a bit taken aback and asked if I wanted a toilet.  I had asked for the shower room.

 I saved the best for last. At the family camp last week I was introduced to the expression "chucking a wobbly" to describe a person having a temper tantrum. It might by the way that I will describe tantrums for the rest of my natural life.