Friday 5th December 2008.

Hi All

So glad to finally be here, after all the stress before we left, it’s good to have FINALLY arrived…

The flights, and Day 1.

As some of you might know it was our first flight off the African continent and Rebecca’s first flight anywhere. Durban to Jo’burg was a great flight, Becca received special attention and was allowed to visit with the captain and co-pilot in the cock pit… the captain asked her if her fluffy toy had a boarding pass… she really enjoyed that. Jo’burg to Perth was just so awful. We sat in the middle of two families – both with young kids… and they basically cried non – stop. Becca was awesome, she only had one complaint at about 3am to say ‘I never thought flying could be this bad’… she had a little cry, but then managed to get about an hour’s sleep. Bern and I were awake the whole eight hours…

At Perth we waited ages for our luggage, only to find that two bags were missing… but the delay helped us when it came to clearing customs… we sailed through… No worries! Throughout the flights we all sailed through customs and security… BUT at the domestic boarding area from Perth to Adelaide was quite simply a NIGHTMARE! Ah man, even writing this makes me stress again!!

The first issue was that we were carrying a ‘vuvuzela’ and had to explain that it was not in fact a weapon of mass destruction, but that it was in fact similar to a bugle or trumpet used at sporting matches. You can just imagine the look on the Aussie officials faces, thinking ‘ Bloody South Africans’… then Bern and I couldn’t get through the metal detectors without the damn things beeping… Geepers, it was so bad, we just couldn’t get through. Everything metal had to be taken off… this included all jewelry, belts, shoes… it was so bad… and all I kept thinking was we had gone so far, why at the last stop did we have this nightmare… eventually we got through… somewhat embarrassed!

The Perth to Adelaide flight was great, amazing conditions, we were able to see land most of the way. So flying into Adelaide was a real treat. We got to see a bird’s eye view of our new beautiful city. Weather was stunning! Arrived to be met by our new Aussie friend Bob, and the government meet and greet volunteer. For those who don’t know – the South Australian government provides a free meet and greet service to skilled migrants. Basically a volunteer is supposed to meet you at the airport and take you to your destination, as well as show you around the city and set you up with tax, medical etc etc. But Bern and I were quite confident that we could do this ourselves. So we were met by Sylvia (Tuesday) on Tuesday 18h30 Adelaide time, only to request that she showed us were we lived and handed over our keys. She was adamant that she should take us on a sightseeing tour! As much as we had explained that the last time we had slept was on Sunday night, she just couldn’t get it into her head that we wanted to put our feet up!

So after a slight sightseeing detour, we arrived at our flat. As part of the meet and greet service they organize you very reasonably priced rental. The flat was very neat and welcoming, two bedrooms, one bathroom and kitchen. The flat is also furnished with major appliances and beds etc. Unfortunately one of the bags that were lost contained Becca’s sleeping bag. Bob offered to take us to the local ‘Big W’ so we could buy a cheap sleeping bag to get us through the night. So off we trooped to the Big W and purchased the sleeping bag with some of the money Qantas had given us because of the lost bag. (We were given $120 for the inconvenience). Bob, very kindly also took us to a look-out spot called Windy Point. From there we were able to see the city of Adelaide. This was at about 8 in the evening, and still very light outside.

That’s one of the things we have to adapt to, the sun is still out, shining at 7pm, it only really gets dark by 8:30pm. Becca doesn’t fancy the idea of going to bed whilst the sun is still out.

Bob dropped us back off at the flat, along with our new sleeping bag, to get a good night’s rest… BUT… we couldn’t get the door to unlock. So there we were, jet lagged, tired and hungry with no food nowhere to sleep, outside our front door trying to open the damn lock… it took us ten minutes… the longest ten minutes of our lives I am sure. We couldn’t even phone anyone… no mobile phone, and we didn’t know anyone’s number!

We eventually got in… hungry still, with no food, thirsty, but not sure if we could drink the water… so we went to bed… to rest for the next day…

More adventures to follow,

Kirst

Day 2 …

Tuesday night we battled to sleep, I imagine it would be the effects of jet lag. Waking up at odd hours, and being wide awake… then we fell asleep again… Bern woke up around 10am on Wednesday and decided we needed to find some liquid refreshment. We had heard so many differing opinions of the water, and we couldn’t quite remember if we could drink it or not. Blimmen South Africans… come from Africa, of course we can drink the water!!!

So Bern literally dragged Rebecca and I out of  bed… damn, I felt like I had serious sense of humour failure.

So picture the setting. We have all probably slept 6 hours since SUNDAY night… we felt like we have serious hangovers, and needed some water. Don’t know the area, but agree that we sort of remember the way to the ‘Big W’… So we trek… to find water… food… anything… and we trek. Bernard convinced his inbuilt satellite navigation skills will get us there… and we trek… and trek… folks we must have walked 3.5km’s in like a 28 degree heat that felt like a 45 degree furnace… and we trekked. Eventually pride taking a back seat, we ask a local. She says we are heading in the opposite direction, and sends us on our way to find the closest refreshment station, which turned out to be a fish and chip shop. I would love to go into detail how good that water tasted, but I’ll get onto Aussie water later.

We managed to sight a bus stop, and some locals. Nothing like asking a long-haired teenager how you go about catching a bus…

We get onto the bus, and ask for tickets… three please… driver says ‘concession’? so we say yes… he says ‘two tickets’?… we say ‘no, three’… he says kids under 5 go free… so I say ‘no she’s 7’… with a wink in his eye he says again ‘2 tickets, yes?’ we say ‘thank you’. Rebecca appalled that we lied, but he saved us $1.20… that’s seven Rand!

We had to stifle much laughter, because we weren’t sure how to get the bus to stop... we learn quickly though… just watch the locals.

So we manage to get off the bus and sight MACDONALDS… yeah something familiar. We decided I would order. So I stand in the queue, this will be easy… I know MacDonalds…. Can I have a Big Mac and chips…?

‘sccoooze mi’ says the pretty Asian girl...

I say loudly, Big Mac and chips… uh… no... fries…

Oh dear, why couldn’t I have asked Bern to order…

So between the South African girl and the pretty Asian girl we eventually come to a general understanding of our dietary needs…

After MacDonald’s we finally arrived at the ‘Big W’ with two backpacks... managed to handle the four wheel drive trolleys quite well, you see unlike SA all wheels swivel. In SA just your front wheels swivel. Trolleys were fine… but we were hopeless. Kept holding people up in the aisles, backing up into innocent bystanders and generally acting like tourists…

Bought a whole bunch of food, filled the backpacks and found the nearest bus stop.

Board the bus, confidently ask for concession tickets, receive them and head home along the only known 3.5 km bus route…

Before I end, I just want to point out two things we have since learnt.

1.       A concession ticket is actually only for pensioners or students, we only learnt this a few days into our bus travels. How stupid we felt.

2.       The ‘Big W’ is 3.5 km’s away from our flat… along the bus route… HOWEVER, it’s only a 900m walk if you use the Garmin navigation and find out the shortest route!

We have so much still to learn,

Kirst

Thursday (Day 3), and the rest of the week.

Forgot to mention that the previous day we had left home at 5:30pm to go venturing into the city. Caught the bus and landed up near China Town… walked around and did the tourist thing and bought a ton of Aussie memorabilia... stickers, shirts, tracksuit top, keys rings, magnets… oh my. The hard part is we feel like tourists, but we have to keep reminding ourselves that this is now home. We are not tourists. We are immigrants in this country. The memorabilia will not suddenly disappear.

The city centre is just so clean and inviting. Rebecca was captivated by the public water drinking fountains, it was quite a laugh, and she got water all over her face and up her nose. We also had our first taste of Farmers Union iced coffee… I kept thinking that friends of mine, Tracey and Maxine, need to have some crates sent to them… it is so, so tasty!

We couldn’t get over the fact we were walking around the centre of a city at 6:30pm!! Realising we weren’t sure when the buses would stop running, we caught a bus back home. Buses we believe run all evening, but obviously just less frequently. Got home at 7:30pm… stayed up till late.

So Thursday, was the day to set up the house. With no car we must have looked hysterical. Two backpacks, one pull along shopping bag and off we go. Stock up on food and supplies, lamps and extension cords, laundry baskets, clothes airer and frying pans… and no room to spare. We were heavily laden and went up and down, up and down to the store and back home again… I have never done so much walking in my life… let’s hope it pays off and I can start losing some of that unwanted weight. Can you picture Bernard, Rebecca and I walking the streets with frying pans, clothes airer’s and laundry baskets… enough said…

Some things we have come across… that have either made us confused or amused. Or just plain odd.

1.       The tap water is just awful. We have noticed that a few people have a ‘pura tap’ installed in their homes, this purifies the water. We have bought boxed water (comes in a container similar to a box of wine), just to get us more used to the taste. We know, we need to get adjusted, but slowly slowly!!

2.       We have no burglar bars or security gates… just fly screens. And our front door has one silly lock.

3.       When you go to your local bank, you don’t stand in a long queue at enquiries, or at the teller. You simply use a touch screen computer in the front reception, it prints out a ticket and you are called when it is your turn. So simple and so quick. Maybe some banks are different, but we are with ANZ and it is so impressive. South African banks could take some good tips.

4.       I have searched, and there is no cream soda… nothing. I have bought Creaming soda, but it was red, and tasting nothing like sparletta sparberry or cream soda.

5.       Sweets are called lollies… not sweets.

6.       There aren’t that many smokers – or maybe we just don’t see many.

7.       When you are invited to tea, which is in fact supper… and when you are asked if you want tea after supper… well that is just normal tea.

8.       Pedestrians have it lucky here. The centre of the city is just amazing… completely pedestrian friendly!

9.       Some of the road signs here in Adelaide along the highway change when necessary, so if there is a traffic obstruction or something similar, the road signs change… and drivers, would you believe it, actually stick to the speed limit.

10.   There are tons of sidewalk café’s, people sitting out in the sunshine everywhere.

11.   The school kids uniforms’ and attire is very relaxed. Boys with longish hair, girls wearing their hair down, wearing makeup, rings etc. This is public schooling I think.

12.   Australians seem like they are always on a mission in the city. They walk with the speed of lightning… and of course us dawdlers have learnt to say sorry a lot!

13.   You hardly see any police around, yet everything is in order. We have been playing spot the police car… since we arrived we have probably seen 4 police vehicles.

Friday we went into the city and activated our bank account. Also went looking around Rundle Mall. No words can describe this shopping area. For all you women out there, it is like shopping paradise.

Shops galore, eating places like you cannot believe… I am still in awe… we have been a few times now, and I still don’t think I can get used to it.

Saturday we decided after stocking up with more home goodies, that we would go looking for a TV (after all, we have to have a TV). A new friend of ours recommended ‘Good guys’… so off we went… its 5 km’s away from our flat. We caught the bus there. Only to arrive one minute after they had closed. So we managed to get a bus to take us to the stop we needed to get to for our route home. So we wait… and wait for our bus… Nothing… we phone the metro bus helpline… they inform us that the last bus on that route has already gone past… So we had to trek again, yip… 3.5km’s… after a long day of stocking up the house… we all had to walk. Rebecca was a little champion, she started getting somewhat moody so we stocked her up with chips and red juice, and she was A for away!

Sunday, we were taken sightseeing by some lovely expats, Manny and Lee. Manny picked us up and took us for an interesting and informative drive. Showed us some beautiful area’s. We had lunch with them at a lovely place in Stirling, and from there we went cherry picking. Ah, what a bunch of fun! Really and truly a great experience. Picking and eating straight off the trees, Rebecca was in her element. We had our first barbeque and Aussie beer that evening… exhausted but so content.

We slept well that evening… what a great start. The next week would be some work and a little play!

Till then, take care…

Kirst

06th December 2008

The joys of council housing.

So we live on the other side of the train track at the moment, and not the good side.  People really, this is literally speaking… trains go by all day, all night.

Just a reminder for those who might have missed it, we took the great opportunity of using the free meet and greet service, and part of this service is that the government finds you accommodation on arrival. The beauty is, is that you have a guaranteed furnished apartment AND you have a much cheaper rental. The flipside to the coin is that you basically live in council housing. Which believe me, is really impressive. Seems to be fairly newish everything from beds, appliances, cutlery and crockery. This rental can be used for a maximum of three months, it just helps families settle in easier.

Now you are wondering what the issue is… well it’s not the flat, not really the area, and not the furniture… it’s our fellow council housing neighbours. Initially Rebecca was reprimanded when she got a little noisy… after two days we realized it really wasn’t necessary.

Disclaimer: This is my opinion only, and certainly not my general view of general Australian citizens.

So here we go.

Meet the Curry Family (and no, that’s not their surname). Every night when you walk into the Apartment block you get this waft of freshly cooked curry. We can’t understand why curry every night??? I have been thinking about perhaps swopping recipes… but decided against it.

Meet Amanda. She lives a few flats down. She was the first to introduce herself. Looked like she hadn’t brushed her hair for weeks, and looked like she was still coming off her nightly binge of booze and drugs… She was very pleasant, until we mentioned the fact we were immigrants… (stupid, stupid, although our accent does tend to give us away). She then had to go on about how her friends have waited twenty years to get into housing like this, and how we had just walked in. But she says to us… No worries of course, don’t feel guilty or anything… gulp… Couldn’t pick up if there was a hint of sarcasm or what. Basically when we see Amanda we hide. We don’t hear much from her, except the odd night when her boyfriend screams… AMMMMMAAAANNNNNNNDDDDA… from the ground floor to her upstairs flat because she won’t let him in. Amanda also advised us not to get involved with the neighbours, pity she can’t take her own advice.

Meet Senegalese man. He lives way away from us, but doesn’t go unheard. We haven’t actually met or even seen him. But every night around seven he blasts his Senegalese tunes. His light stays on all night… perhaps that’s why we only hear him in the evenings… maybe he is nocturnal and only comes out at night.

Meet Heavy Metal Man (aka Aging rocker) We see him only briefly, but hear his Heavy Metal (something like Korn or Slipped Knot for those in the know) fairly often. He lives in the flat beneath us and generally keeps to himself. He is about 40, dresses in  jeans and a dirty kinda sweatshirt with this long, dirty, perhaps even greasy hair… nicely complimented with a bald spot. So sometimes we have, Senegalese tunes mixed with Heavy metal… the sound is fascinating…

Meet Angry Old lady. She sneaks in and out of the apartment building, sometimes wearing what looks like Long John’s, always what looks like a scowl. She never makes eye contact and always glares. But I am pleased to report that yesterday I gave her a wave… and her whole face changed… to a big huge grin. I am determined that she is actually could be called Nice Old Lady, but only time will tell.

Meet the Hearing Impaired man. He stands by the window and shouts on his cell phone. Last night we were updated on his news, and believe that he told his caller he wasn’t well at the moment. Hope he actually has some hot gossip soon.

Meet China Man. I am not sure were China man lives, but I see him almost every night at the laundry area. You see the trick to keeping to yourself, is sightseeing during the day, watching a bit of telly, and then washing in the evening. Clearly China man, has the same idea as me. Logic says that most council flat dwellers, are living off some form of government support, and can’t afford the luxury of a tumble drier. So no one would do washing at night, because it just couldn’t get dry. So at about 7:30 in the evening I sneak down quietly to the laundry area, every night to be greeted by China Man. The difference is, is that China Man and I have the same understanding. We are not there to chit chat, but to do our washing. So we now exchange a friendly wave, in the common understanding that we are actually trying our best not to be seen.

So much to keep a person here entertained. Hope it entertained you…

Kirst

07th December 2008

Week 2.

Enough tourist business. Week 2 was the week to get on with Aussie living, or at least try to.

Early in the week Bern met with a fantastic ex-South African recruitment officer, just to get a few tips on how to go about sending out the right looking CV cover letter. He has been very kind in helping with good tips and letting Bern use the internet to get connected.

 Talking about connection, I think it is about time I fess up that ‘My name is Kirsten and I have an internet addiction’… I have battled, like you cannot believe. Wondering how many notifications are sitting on Facebook, or wondering how many new posts have been made on the forum… man, just pathetic… and on looking back, I understand now that the World Wide Web carries on, just fine without my input!

While Bern looks for jobs, the girls usually (sometimes we just sleep in) try to get the flat into some bit of order. Bit of a clean and tidy here and there. The wonderful thing about the Aussie’s  is that they are very in to their recycling, So we bought a bin that is divided into two sections. One for normal waste, the other for recycled waste (yes, this was another one of those items we walked back home with). But the million dollar question was ‘What exactly is allowed in the recycle bin’… So the only way to confirm this, is to go down to the main bins located in the waste area… so we sneak, have a peek… and start our own recycling initiative. We still get confused, and aren’t 100% certain… but hey, at least we’re doing our bit… and I refuse to look in the rubbish again.

We’ve also had to visit a few government departments - Centrelink (it’s like social services), what a pleasure. A government department where you actually can understand everything a person is saying., and no one says “eish’. The bonus was, is that because of Rebecca we received a $1000 childcare benefit. Can you believe it… and we have just arrived. Ok, it took a little while to provide and confirm our details… but really not all that bad.

The best govt. department was by far, the tax office… yes you read right, and if tax conjures up thoughts of SARS, well then you’re clearly in the wrong country. Everything was simple. No forms to fill in, the receptionist just leads you to a computer and you load your own info in… No worries… and it’s all  done… we kept waiting for the catch… but none…

I must also mention that going into the city is always such a wonderful experience. Catching the bus has become more familiar as well as digging out the correct bus fare. Initially we used to fumble around looking for the correct fare… holding up the rest of the bus goers… but now, we’re ok…  we only look like tourists, but we don’t act like them!

The girls have also gone to the local Zoo, and I still don’t know how I got us there, especially with Rebecca  saying uh-uh mom… you’re lost, we need to get the map book from Dad… I also cannot begin to explain the relief when I saw the Zoo entrance… felt like doing the ‘I told you so’ thing, but then realized that I was the mom, and not the child.

The Zoo was a big highlight… for any Australian… yip! We got to see Lion, Giraffe, Meerkats,  Hippo, Leopard… you name it boy… we saw all the African animals… eventually we spotted a sleeping kangaroo, and a sleeping koala… By the way for those that think you see Kangaroo’s around the suburbs, it’s like the equivalent to South Africans having Lion in their back yard.

Mid week, we went up to visit with Aussie Bob, and his wife Ginnie. Well, we actually went to pick up Mitsi. (Mitsi is our new addition to the family). A rather sporty looking, 1989 Hatchback Mitsubishi Colt… at least we won’t have to carry anymore frying pans or washing baskets from the shops). So we arrive at Bob’s farm and we get invited for tea… I know Bob’s going to chuckle when he reads this, but I kept wondering if true-blue Aussies ate kangaroo for supper…. Thank goodness, we ate normal food, that was wonderfully cooked on a very hot BBQ… topped with a lovely glass of wine, great hospitality and awesome conversation! Bob also took us for walk around a part of his farm, showed us some tea tree’s, rain water tanks and pointed out his sheep.

Bern says ‘Hey Bob! You’ve got sheep!!!’ Bob says… ‘I know what you’re getting at mate’!!!

We managed to make it safely back from Bob’s with the help of our Garmin Sat Nav… it was quite late and very dark, and poor Bern had to make his way home without any Aussie driving experience. Let’s just say we were glad when we finally arrived home.

The Highlight of the week for Bern, I am sure was ordering our bicycles. We had to go far cheaper than we were initially going to go, but finances dictated, and emotions had to take the back seat. After concluding business, we set about taking dear ‘Mitsi’ for a drive. What a blast, up past Windy Point, slight detour and then on to Hahndorf. Hahndorf is a spectacular town… you get the impression of the Natal Midlands… mixed with Aussie souvenirs.

When we got home we promised Rebecca that she could take her new bike for a ride, and this is the part that made me really remember why we went through all the hassle of getting over here… we took Rebecca to the local park. With her new bike, and her luminescent pink helmet she was on her way… and I sat in awe… People playing cricket, families picnicking, all in complete safety, on a Saturday afternoon just before supper time. This was the same on the Sunday too… just packed!

Slowly but surely we are gaining some confidence back, and aren’t feeling like such ‘chops’ whenever we ask a stupid question. Things don’t seem to be as foreign, although I reckon we stick out like ‘Dutchmen’… (yes, us Natal folk have been called Dutchies).

We’ve done a trip to the beachfront area, caught buses and trams. Walked along the river, and walked some more, Laughed and got lost, felt out of place, but felt at home, shopped for silly things, and shopped some more… and every day felt completely inspired… Welcome to Australia… Let’s see what the new week brings….

08th December 2008

The start of week 3.

Early in the week I had an experience that I am sure only a South African could understand. Becca and I were walking home from a stint at the ‘Big W’, and I noticed we were being followed, every step of the way. All the way up Marlborough he followed, every step of the way, didn’t want to alarm Rebecca but told her to walk a little faster… but he walked just as quick… Every step of the way.  Past the bus stop, and across the road. Further up the road, I slowed down and he stopped outside the butcher shop, to ‘look in the window’. I sped up and snuck into another pathway that leads to our apartment block, not near our flat (because I didn’t want him to see), but enough to see him hopefully pass up the road… next minute I hear steps... look back and he is now RIGHT behind us… with… with damn keys… for his unit…  So I pretended to be looking for something I had supposedly ‘dropped’ in the bush. Rebecca was so confused and I felt so damn neurotic. So the person following was actually just another tenant, I keep wondering what he was thinking of me.

Flat living has been great, I think I have now officially met the Curry Family Father, and China Man and I are still regular late night laundry club members.

Bern went to the registration department to register Mitsi in his name, and the amazing part was that they didn’t even want to see his driver’s license.  Yip, that’s correct, you can actually own a car, EVEN if you aren’t a qualified driver. Funny though, Bern realised mid week that the drivers license he keeps showing  everyone actually expired in 2007… thank goodness the cops haven’t stopped us… Luckily he found his current license and was able to drive. Although it did occur to me that his new mountain bike was sitting in Rebecca’s room, and that perhaps he was going to use the excuse – Sorry love, I can’t drive… buutttt I can take my bike…

Some Aussie things I’m  learning.

·         You don’t say Howzit… you say ‘Hiya’

·         You don’t say Cheers… you say ‘See ya’

·         And Cheers is ‘thank you’

·         Trains with diesel engines need to be banned, man they are loud.

·         If an Aussie (or anyone for that matter) gets rude, (for us English speakers) just speak Natal Afrikaans, even if the broken ‘taal ‘you’re speaking would make an Afrikaaner cringe.

·         Everything get’s shortened, like rego (registration), journo (journalist), salvo (salvation army)… you get the point.

·         Alcoholic apple ciders do not seem to be popular here. Beer drinkers seem to have endless choice.

·         Smokers have it hard. A carton of smokes is going to cost the best part of R700.00.thank goodness I stopped before we arrived.

·         You don’t hear all that much swearing in public, BUT switch on to some TV channels, and it’s quite shocking, and I ain’t no prude.

Bernard and Mitsi did a great job of getting us safely to Victor harbour, an hour South of Adelaide. Along the route though we noticed how concerned the Aussie’s are with speed. They have these red and black markers all along the highway that indicate a fatalities (black) and injuries (red). They even had a sign stating – Accident free for 95 days.

At Victor harbour we rode a horse drawn tram over a causeway across Encounter Bay to ‘Granite Island’. The small tram is pulled by one great Clydesdale horse that weighs approximately 1 ton.  Getting off at the tram stop we went for a 2.5km hike around the perimeter of the island. I think Becca has decided that Australia and walking are one in the same thing.

Mid week, when Bern went out to look for work, the girls decided to do some baking. Why I even bothered I am not entirely sure, but we went ahead. For some reason the mixture that we put together was way too sticky. It stuck to me, the counter top and the rolling pin. Fed up I told Becca.. ‘enough!! I am packing this in’. So I go to wash my hands, and no water. Picture this. My hands are coated in sticky mess, the bowl, spoon and rolling pin are coated to, Rebecca sobbing because I am tossing her baking mess in the bin, and my temper growing because WHY did I even plan this, when I am not, and probably never will be a baker. The only way to get this off, was to run my hands under fridge water… it worked but crikey my hands were frozen after that. Perhaps it cooled the temper and I decided to go ahead with cooking the sticky mess. Unfortunately we were unable to make the gingerbread men, so I made a gingerbread filled baking tray, and once cooked cut into squares. Becca was happy that she had baked something, and I was relieved I didn’t entirely ruin her day.

But the lack of water problem persisted, and then the mind started to wonder off… ‘South Australia has water restrictions, did I use too much water, and now we have to pay, worse yet do we have a monthly water allocation and I’ve used it all… and now we wouldn’t have water for Christmas, how would we shower… join a gym, perhaps, use their water’…

Turned out actually that the gardener had seen a leak and switched off the water mains, clearly not thinking about the residents, but more about water conservation.

Good on ya mate!!!

 

Til the next time, take care,

Kirst

PS. If anyone has a fail (fool) proof recipe for gingerbread men, please let me have it… Yes, I am going to attempt another baking session. It is the Christmas Season after all…

13th December 2008

 

Had a lovely week again, saw a few new things, and experienced the park at 7 in the evening. Becca was dying to ride her bike, so after supper we headed off to the park and hung about for half an hour or so whilst Rebecca rode. Two things I am still getting used to. People are at the park, at night… Young and old making the most of their days. And secondly that the sun really only goes down sometime after 8:30pm. You really get to experience a full day, although you end up staying up so much later at night.

We also had the great experience of going to a wildlife sanctuary – Warrawong where we got FREE entry and were able to feed the kangaroos, and go on a beautiful walk around the sanctuary. Unfortunately only the Roo’s were the highlight for the day. Totally unable to spot any wallabies or koala’s, but damn we tried… and tried… ended up getting a sore neck from the all the looking in the eucalyptus trees. One kangaroo did get a little jealous when Becca was feeding another and managed to send Rebecca flying during a somewhat jealous bout. Becca was fine, just a little surprised.

Adelaide has been receiving a record amount of rainfall for the month of December, as most of you might know it has a weather pattern similar to Cape Town – dry in the summer and wet in the winter. Went into the city during one of the rain showers and ended up seeking shelter in a department store. Let’s just say that it’s something we have only ever seen on the movies (yes, we never got out much). Five levels of amazing shopping, all in one store… Becca got to meet Santa, and had a photo with him… and we got ripped off paying like R130 for the photo. I mean how can you NOT buy the photo!

Don’t know if it has been the change in the weather but the girls woke up Saturday morning, feeling a bit flu-ish, and decided to get some medicine from the chemist. On the subject of medicine, ibuprofen can be bought at your local supermarket… It sits in the aisle with the paracetomol.

Had a barbeque on Saturday with newly made friends, Kerry, Steffen and Aimee (ex South Africans as well). Chatted over drinks and good food. Laughed over many similar stories and experiences that possibly only new immigrants could understand.  Our two little girls had a blast, Barbie dolls and bikes and creaming soda were the choice for the evening, which left them both exhausted by 8:30pm.

Sunday was a busy day. Bern started off early with a cycle ride, and then we visited IKEA by the Adelaide aiport. For us, it was mind blowing, and we could have spent a fortune! We will only start getting furniture only once we move into our new rental and we HAVE to buy new stuff. Hopefully by then Bern will be working and we can spend dollars rather than spend the precious rands! Because we didn’t bring over furniture, we have to literally start from scratch… and this desperation leads me to an amusing story.

This evening, whilst doing my nightly sneak to the laundry room, I spot a rather solid mahogany-looking TV cabinet… And well, it’s just sitting there. Now we’ve heard rumours that when the Aussies don’t want things, they just stick it out on the verge. So my mind is wondering… mmm… this ‘verge’ material (which is still sitting on the ground floor of the apartment block) could be my new TV cabinet. And if it’s free, that’s WAY cheaper than IKEA, and of course that earns me points with the budget…  So I run to Bern… ‘Bernard you have to see this’, and he runs downstairs… and I can see the mind ticking over just like mine, except he’s already wondering how we are going to carry the thing back up the stairs to the second floor… and I’m thinking, well don’t look at me!

After much deliberation and laughter we agree that it actually looks more brand new than second hand, and we decide to knock on all the apartment doors. Yes, we were going to attempt to be friendly to our council neighbours. So all was well, till I got to the one door, and couldn’t stop giggling, and Bern was nudging me to knock on the door, and I’m half giggling, half whispering… ‘Go away, they won’t open the door if they see YOU’! But now I am laughing so much, I literally cannot contain myself. So we run back to our apartment, contain ourselves and subdue the hysterics… and go a’knocking. BUT, out of the whole apartment block would you believe that only one person opened their door… what a disappointment… until we looked at the clock, and realised that we were actually knocking on people’s doors on a SUNDAY at 9:15pm… stupid foreigners…

Before I finish off here are some general arb notes for all you food critics.

·         I am yet to eat a chilli dish, or sample a chilli sauce that actually has any kind of bite/sting to it. Bern ordered a chilli pizza the other night and we are still trying to figure out where they hid the chilli.

·         Aussies love a strong cup of coffee, compared to what us Saffers are used to… its strong.

·         To find Feta cheese is a whole different mission. We have found ONE brand that is made in Tasmania, but that’s it. ONE brand… and we are yet to taste it.

·         Cheddar cheese, no matter what the brand seems to taste the same, maybe some just slightly stronger… but for me it’s still the same taste. And it’s all like a pasty white colour… Maybe it’s just because there is a lack of colourants, but I find it odd.

·         I don’t find the meat to taste that different. Chicken tastes like chicken, lamb tastes like lamb, and beef… well that tastes like fish… Nah, just wanted to see if you were paying attention. Beef still tastes like beef.

·         Aussie portions are HUGE. Order a large bowl of chips, and you will receive what appears to be a kilogram of fried potatoes. The coke buddy bottles aren’t 500ml, but 600ml. Hot dogs are not like our normal rolls, but all footlong dogs.  And the hamburger rolls are like three times the size of what we are used to… much like the size of a large Chelsea bun.

·         We bought a fundraising $2 barbequed sausage roll, and were amazed to find that the sausage was placed between one slice of bread. No butter, no roll. Don’t know why they don’t say ‘Come support your lifesavers, and buy your $2 sausage bread thingymabob’. We have found out that this is the norm, and not some cheap attempt to cut costs.

·         When you buy a cooked chicken at your local Woolworths, the chicken has stuffing.

Till the next time… take care of yourselves

Xxx

16th December 2008

 

Council living is going as well as can be expected, Grumpy old lady has now turned into Grumpy old avoidance lady. Unfortunately, I have had to temporarily give up on converting her to the lighter side, because if she catches sight of me she dashes for cover. But don’t lose hope – I will carry on fighting the good fight. Haven’t seen China Man much lately, then again I have been low on the washing pile and have not needed to sneak down to the laundry room in the shadows of the night. Have managed to meet (and talk with) Married to PHD Indian lady, she lives at number five, and her husband has been studying for his PHD. She advised me that hanging my washing on the communal line, would not be wise, and to continue using my wash drier on the balcony. I did not see the need to confess that the laundry drier was merely for show and that in fact I had a lovely tumble drier stashed away in my pantry- sized kitchen.

Amanda has been pretty quiet, apart from the other night when she was banging on aging rocker’s window (and doors) to let her inside. And to be honest, we have our TV on so loud at night that I am unable to report on how Hearing Impaired Man is doing. Thankfully he cannot compete with our lovely new 45cm LCD. And I am pleased to announce that we have two new additions to the council flat characters…

Meet Skeletal Man (aka aging rocker number 2), he is about 6ft2, always wears the same faded jeans and long sleeved black shirt, Ray Ban Wayfarer’s (aka Madonna sun glasses) and he’s in his early sixties and skinny as a rake… we are not sure why he is so damn skinny, because every morning he goes for a walk, and then comes back with a packet of food. Perhaps he is the owner of a massive cat or something.

Meet Local Eavngelist and Chinese immigrant , they rocked up one evening to preach the gospel at our door and Bern kept them talking for about half an hour, eventually I think they were so busy trying to compete with Bernard’s theories that the talk of immigration became much easier, and then they were on their merry way.  So you see, you don’t have to ever be rude… put a smile on your dial, and just talk a while.

We celebrated our five year anniversary with a lovely boat ferry trip up the Torrens River.  What a setting, but oh what an amusing trip. The ferry pilot (if that is the correct terminology) had his girlfriend on the ride with him. I kept nudging Bern to say – ‘Did you see her pay the $10, I didn’t’. She was clearly having mobile phone troubles, and required the help of her man. So there we were, about ten of us on this sightseeing ferry, with a tour guide that was more involved in a broken mobile or two than explaining the sights and sounds. Occasionally his concentration from the mobile’s would break and he would mumble some obscure inaudible fact through the loud speaker. The best was yet to come when he pulled to the side, for her to jump off and collect… would you believe ANOTHER mobile phone. So there we wait, girlfriend hops off the ferry… and he explains nothing. She jumps back on, mobile box and packet in hand… and off we go back to the ferry stop.

On the same note about pilots / drivers just stopping for arb reasons, we had a bus driver the other morning that left us all sitting in the bus for 5 minutes. He stopped at one of the Hyde Park regular stops, just outside ‘The Hyde’ (a local pub / tavern). We assumed it was perhaps for a toilet break, but could not help cracking jokes about the driver going for a drink. I mean, imagine this happening in South Africa… someone would have driven the idling bus away, I can just imagine the headlines, ’40 people highjacked whilst bus driver goes for pee break’. Eventually the driver gets back on, and Bernard quips ‘Do you feel a whole lot better?’ and the bus driver remarks… ‘Yeah, that pint did me wonders’…

The silence in the bus was obvious… was he or wasn’t he joking…

We also managed to get the last few decorations for our Christmas tree. We have started a fun tradition this year, everywhere we go we pick up a decoration that would remind us of the visited area. So from Victor Harbour we have a little penguin, from Hahndorf we have a decorative mini cuckoo clock, from Myer we have a metal decoration in the shape of the Aussie continent  and of course, Chinatown is represented by a little red and gold Chinese lantern. One thing I love about being here, is that the Aussies seem so festive, and REALLY geared up for the festive season. In local shops you can buy Christmas hats galore, Christmas T-Shirts (yes, Becca and I both have one),Christmas socks / ties,  Christmas earings, Christmas cutlery and crockey, Christmas EVERYTHING!!! In our area, all the trees that line the streets have huge red bows tied around them, there’s lights on the verandah’s and candy canes in the garden… and do you know what, they don’t disappear…

On Thursday Morning we decided to pluck up the courage and book for our learners licenses. I mean, really, why we can’t just convert our old ones… So off we go to Services SA, rather confidently, ready to book. Only, when we get there, and explain that we want to book, the kind gentleman says (like most Aussies do) ‘No worries, no need to book, you wanna write it now’? No worries, had he gone mad?!? And rather unconfidently with sweat dripping off the brows, we have to explain that we feel we might like to learn for the test. So we sheepishly walk out the office with our $5 learners book, to learn from… perhaps there’s a reason why we can’t JUST convert, after all, there are a few differences here and there. Thursday afternoon, we had to go back into the city for an appointment with a Commissioner of Oaths. Boy oh boy, I thought getting a document signed by a commissioner was part of someone’s civic duty. No way!! We had to pay this lawyer $75… for … wait for it… every fifteen minutes. She must have thought were were the rudest people, because we just wanted to sign and get out of there. We ended up paying $110 and then when we got home… dumbass (that would be me) realized that we hadn’t given her all the documents to sign. And all I could do was cry… and I know, crying doesn’t help. But to pay someone $75 for literally one signature and a Charlie chat is gut wrenching, especially when you aren’t yet earning dollars, and are spending these pathetic Rands buy the thousand. Kindly she agreed to only charge us $25 for the second document, and then after signing it the next day, she decided not to charge us anything extra. (Phew!)

On Friday we bussed our way to Manny and Lee’s office, the highlight of Becca’s morning I am sure, and ours too as we were given very yummy koeksisters. The only problem was that two minutes into the bus ride, I couldn’t quite remember if I had switched my hair straightner off… and as every women who has used (or attempted to use) one, you will know just how hot they can actually get! And let’s just remember that you can’t just say ‘hey Mister bus driver, can you just take me back home, just want to make sure our rented flat doesn’t burn down’. So for two hours I debated whether I had actually turned it off, and eventually was very relieved when Bern suggested we go check… so we bussed it back home… it was actually off… but still, I felt a whole lot better. The great thing about the bus rides is that we buy a Day Trip ticket – we each pay $8, and for the whole day you can catch the bus, train and tram as much as you wish. The even better part is that on holidays and weekends kids go free…

Bern received a call from a recruitment company whilst we were on our way to check the straightner’s on/off status, and he has an interview with the recruiter on Monday. Tuesday, if all goes well, Bernard will have his interview with the company. Let’s hope we have some good news for you soon.

After the exciting news, Bernard and I got chatting about where we would then live, and what school Becca could probably go to… and Rebecca butts in and says… ‘yes, I need a stable house’… we think she meant  that she needed a stable environment, but anyway it was definitely a classic remark that left us in hysterics, and her feeling a bit red-cheeked. She’s obviously overheard our chats about making sure she feels secure and has a sense of stability.

We’ve been going around to many shopping centres / malls/ plaza’s / markets, and there are sales galore. BUT we have been told to hold off for the sales that happen on the 26th and 27th of December. I will report back to tell you if there is any truth to these rumours. But I am really hoping g to collect some bargains… remember we have to stock up all over again. Another thing, I find surprising, is that before we left  many people warned us that the clothing in Australia wasn’t up to the South African standards. But, I have to begin to wonder where they are living. The shopping here in Adelaide is beyond anyone’s wildest dreams and I am talking for Men, Women, Overweight, Underweight… etc etc… I could easily bankrupt us, just on clothing purchases (ah yes, and Christmas décor).

I am still getting used to the TV News over here, it’s really different (it’s more like watching Carte Blanche with a weather report), for example Wednesday’s main highlights on the seven o’clock news were:

·         Stay at home mother seeks answers from Vodafone, reason:  she cannot get a contract because they don’t see housewife as an occupation… (I think she missed the point she has no credit history… so, duh)

·         Tenant in tears because the house she rents has pigeons nesting in a large tree, causing disease and her sick daughter cannot play outside.

·         1000 pensioners able to have a free flight with tiger airlines, all they have to do to qualify is log onto Tiger airlines website…

·         Bicycle bandit, he has robbed a bank/s on his bicycle.

·         Cancellation fees for mortgage loans, and how people are mad with the astronomical charges on their mortgage’s.

·         Certain thinkers wanting unemployment benefits only for a period of say six months, as opposed to an ongoing thing. They even showed how easy it was for a young unskilled male to get a job, that would potentially earn him about $500 a week.

We have still been doing the whole park thing, like the rest of Adelaide. The parks are always full of life… Bern bought us a badminton set for us to ‘jol’ around with whilst Becca rides, and that has been such a blast. We must have looked really stupid whilst we were trying to get the hang of the sport, but all ended well, apart from the battered shuttlecock… and Becca’s grazed legs. She’s learning the hard way about speed, sand and bicycles… but it’s all good… everything…

… we’ve just learnt a sense of adventure goes a long way….

23rd December 2008

What a wonderfully hectic, and exciting week and a bit for us all! We started off on Sunday by taking a drive to see Stevens Commercial Furniture, at that stage all Bernard had was a potential interview and a good feeling. By Monday he had a definite interview to go along with the good feeling, and on Tuesday the good feeling turned into a great one when he was told he got the job. What a blessing, although I have admit to feeling anxious as let’s all remember that I have to now live up to this one interview, one job offer scenario. Imagine the pressure I am going to feel when I start looking for my job…  At the moment I am still uncertain of what I would like to do and until Becca goes to school at the end of January, and Bernard starts work around the same time, I have some time to decide. Ideally, it would be great to continue in the property industry and get my Australian accreditation  but I am also looking into a computer course run over a four month period…  either way it seems I am going back to school… oh dear, oh dear, oh dear… I’ll have to sort this untrained, drained brain out soon… You will be pleased to know that we managed to find a bottle of Amarula Cream, and that we cracked it’s dusty seal and toasted to Bern’s employment. The bottle cost us the equivalent of about R230.00… so we savoured it a bit… and had the last sip on New Years Eve.

Not only is Becca learning the hard way about speed, sand and bicycles but so am I… I am sitting here with a grazed left knee and a big fat bruise on my thigh. It seems that any mountain bike handling experience I had was left back in South Africa. Since getting my bike we have been riding nearly every day, all in and around our area. Rebecca’s trail-a-bike gets hooked up to Bern’s bicycle and away we go… We still can’t believe how bicycle friendly Adelaide is. Every main road has a wide bicycle lane and cars don’t come anywhere close to it. On one of our ‘explore your neighbourhood’ routes… Bern came across a recreational park… Let’s just say it was Mountain bike heaven… path after path of pure mountainbiking bliss! So off we all went (yes, Rebecca still attached to Bern’s bike) on a mountain bike bush adventure. We passed walkers, cross country joggers and fellow mountain bikers… and I fell flat on my face, with the injuries to prove it.

We’ve been also looking at second hand furniture dealers – because we were determined to pick up some good bargains. But let me tell you that over here, the second hand market doesn’t compare with those discount furniture shops like IKEA and Fantastic furniture. We’ve trawled the shops and only managed to find real overpriced junk and a cute little doll house for Becca. The colours were awful, but with a little TLC and a lick of paint, it was turned into Cinderella’s castle! On that note, when you go buy paint here, you have to ask for assistance. All the spray paint is locked away, and kids under 16 are not permitted to buy it at all. There is clearly an issue with graffiti over here… many walls have graffiti markings… and nothing inspirational, just pointless nonsense… they aren’t fighting any cause… they’re just bored kids, with nothing else to do.

Other arb things that we have come across…

·         You have to be over 18 to buy a knife.

·         If you look under 25, you have to produce identification if you want to buy cigarettes.

·         When you go to the shops and the teller has rung up your groceries, the say ‘Cash Out’, when this first happened we said – No, not paying cash, paying card… and they said again… ‘Cash Out?’… Cash out actually means … Would you like to draw out Cash from your card?. But what is amazing is it can be done mostly anywhere, Woolworths, Coles, Liquor stores, Foodland, Big W… and would you believe it… Macdonalds!

·         When you buy loose fruit and veg, it is weighed at the cashier, so don’t go looking around for someone to weigh it like we did.

·         The carpet companies advertise ‘fake grass’… similar to astro turf but quite authentic compared. Because there are such water restrictions, people can’t be bothered to put up with a dead patch of lawn, so they fit this astro turf.

·         Rain tanks are everywhere. People are very conscious about water and the catchment of rain water. You see many homes that have signage that say either ‘bore hole water / rain tank water / grey water in use’.

The Christmas festivities were great, we were invited to a braaibecue (that’s Bernards new term for an Aussie barbecue with South Africans) on Christmas eve with a lovely family that we met through the forum. It’s funny, we weren’t really the social type in SA, but here in Oz we’re really stepping out of our comfort zone and enjoying it! We are also amazed at people’s kindness and hospitality. I mean, in all honestly, all we have in common is that we are/were South Africans…  that’s it. And people open their homes and hearts… and don’t want to gain anything from it. It really restores your faith in mankind! And it also reminds us that we will need to do the same for those coming this way too. For the first time, we were able to put Rebecca’s presents under the tree on Christmas Eve, without fear that they might disappear during the night!

Christmas day was real fun(Becca spoilt as usual)! We had planned initially to spend it in our little flat and had organized a cooked chicken and roast potato’s… but instead we landed up at a real festive Christmas celebration with new friends and their friends… there must have been about thirty of us. It was just awesome, we all sat together at a huge table and were treated to wonderful food and MORE wonderful food… We actually overindulged a bit (understatement), but isn’t that what Christmas lunch is supposed to be about! Thank you Mike and Kim for our first wonderful Aussie Christmas, and to Kerry and Steff… your hospitality always amazes us!

So Boxing Day we woke up at the (Aussie) crack of dawn, and headed off to Rundle Mall for the much anticipated after Christmas sales… but boy… like typical tourists we had been given the wrong information. There were many people (probably foreigners) milling around… but not any shops open… that would be a lie, there was ONE… the Aussie souvenir shop… what a bunch of chops we felt like, and to make matters worse we were interviewed by Channel 9 News – they were covering the news story of the shoppers who arrived to find nothing happening… how mortified I felt… I still cringe thinking about it!! Anyway, all was not lost, on Saturday we headed off to ‘The Good guys’… and we hit a great luck there! They most certainly had GREAT bargains – We managed to buy a fridge, dishwasher, 2 fans, 2 vacuum cleaners (one hand held black and decker) and washing machine for $1500… and the great part is, is that the South Australian government will be giving us a $200 rebate for buying an economical washing machine that saves water!

We have also been driving all over the Adelaide suburbs, looking for good areas and at potential rentals. Here the rental market works somewhat differently. You have to inform the agent you are interested in seeing a certain property, and then a few days later or so, you are advised of an ‘inspection time’. For example we found a rental (on the internet) that we were keen on, Bern sent the agent an e mail, and about a week later we received an sms to say the property  would be open for an inspection for 15 minutes on that particular day. THAT’S IT!!! All you get is 15 minutes. So you rock up at the house, and there are plenty other prospective tenants all wanting the same unit. If you decide that you like it (which we did) you fill out this intensive application form. And from there the agent presents the landlord with all the different prospective tenants… whilst you sit and wait. We still have a few more days to wait… but this unit would be perfect, so keep your fingers crossed. It’s a little duplex right on the edge of the famous Torrens River… and all along the Torrens river is this spectacular cycle / walking path that goes on for about  40km! It’s biking bliss… and it’s all safe!

In all our driving, we really have come across the most beautiful  area’s. We were also given the impression by many that Australian homes just didn’t compare to the South Africans ones. Which really isn’t so. Sure, the homes (and particularly the gardens) are smaller. But most are very well maintained and looked after. And we have done driving into the lower income areas as well as the higher income areas.

We are trying to find furniture before we have to move to our new rental, and at the moment our little flat is bursting at the seams. Poor Becca has these huge boxes in her room, with no room to play… thank goodness we manage to get out, because these walls seem to be closing in on us sometimes. We still haven’t found any great bargains at second hand dealers… but what Bern has come across is the ‘Gum Tree’ adverts. Much like the classified section of a newspaper, but on the internet. We have managed to get a solid wooden coffee table for $40.00… now that’s the kind of bargain we want. .. The lady even dropped it off at the flat for us!

The flat does seem to be feeling more like home every day! We have bought a few pots and plants… much to my utter joy, a yellow arum lily plant and an ALOE!! Yes, an aloe… it’s tiny… but with all the love it’s ganna get from me, it will grow big and strong. One forgets how much plants can add to the home! Especially when you go from an acre of land, to nothing whatsoever.

I am also missing having an animal around, and at the moment all it looks like I am going to get is a couple of goldfish… I miss my pets… I really do, they make a house a home…

Our start to the new year was a planned, quiet event. We decided that we wanted to stay at home, and not have to drive around, also with not knowing the area, we just weren’t too happy about going places with Rebecca… just incase it got rowdy. So we had an awesome supper, Bern had a beer or two, and I had some wine… and then at about 10:30pm we decided it was a little too quiet for New Years… and we headed for the bus stop! Yip, would you believe you can walk the streets at 10:30pm in the suburbs and catch a bus. We thought we would head off to Victoria Square to see some fireworks. But nothing was happening… and everyone was heading off towards the Arts Centre of Adelaide. We decided to call it a night when we came across some drunken lads and Rebecca said ‘That boy can’t control his mouth’… It just wasn’t a place for a child, and it wasn’t a place for us to be… Police presence was awesome though. Patrols on horseback and more. But what we witnessed was many drunken revelers, and many ambulances and fire engines heading off to help those in need. Our wait for the bus meant that at the stroke of midnight we were heading on the way back home. Both girls in Bern’s wonderfully warm arms… all of us amazed that at midnight we were safe on public transportation, and blessed that tomorrow we would wake up safely for the new year to begin…

And what a great start to the New Year, without a hangover… We were going to spend the day on the beach, but got side tracked when we came across a ‘Bunnings Warehouse’… I can only describe it as Servistar/Mica on steroids… Every DIY project imaginable (all at good prices), plants, pots, hardware, crafts, machinery, outdoors, tools… I could go on and on… and we could have spent and spent... but we had to stop somewhere… and that would be when poor Mitsi couldn’t fit any more items !!

Talking about good prices, we also went to another disappointing sale… they have been having all these ads on the telly (yes, perhaps we are great advertisement suckers) for cheap cd’s and dvd’s…. so on our way back home we popped to the Adelaide Showgrounds… it looked impressive, but looks were definitely deceiving!

But the strangest thing happened on our way back to the car. We were stopped by a man, who asked if we were from Cape Town (Bern was wearing a shirt that had Cape Town written on the back)… Anyway we got chatting and would you believe that we are heading off to his place for a braaibeque tomorrow. He is an ex-South African that has lived in Australia for 21 years, and really seems to like helping new ‘imports’ to the country…

Like I said, us anti-socials are really having to let go of the comfort zone… and live a little…

Life is good… and learning is great…  2009 is going to be a great year for us all….

Till the next time, take care…

PS… Angry old lady is no longer Angry Old lady… on New years eve, she was heading out and passed us in the street… and bellowed… Happy New Year…. And even with her queer little smile… it warmed my heart… I was glad I never gave up on her…

January 2009

Journal extra:

I sat reading my journal today, and have laughed and cringed along the way… and have been amazed how well things have worked out for us, but then I realised it’s not necessarily because we’ve ‘had it easy’ so to say, but we’ve remained positive, kept the sense of humour and given it all we’ve got. So, my journal entry today, is a reminder that it’s not about the situation you are in… but what you make of the situation.

In life you have a choice,

To make it work or not…

To give things a go, stumble a little,

but giving all you’ve got.

Never losing sight,

Of that place you want to be…

Giving all you’ve got,

Is the only way, you see.

So set your sights,

And follow your heart…

Giving ALL you’ve got,

It’s the only way to start.

I am amazed sometimes that we are here. Bernard started off the process of emigration nearly three years ago, and the reality of moving seemed like a distant dream. He used to come home and read me the weather report in Adelaide, show me photo’s of suburbs, clean streets, pictures of the Torrens river, crowds in Rundle Mall… and I always showed a half hearted interest… Not because, I didn’t care, but because I never thought we could achieve such a big dream. I mean, let’s be honest here we’ve all heard how sticky the Aus government is with migration and financially, we weren’t really in a position to spend the money required.

But when the schools started striking, and we had to rush to pick up Rebecca from school, I thought perhaps this was a sign, and perhaps we could look into it further. That was all Bernard needed… within days, we had made an appointment to see a migration agent…. Within weeks we had passports, birth certificates, and Bernard’s trade had been approved for Skilled Migration. Rumours were flying that due to a new online system being used, our Visa would take around three months… On the 24th November 2007 our application was submitted, and we were making plans to leave around March… and we waited… and waited… March came and went, and we promised my cousin that we would definitely stay till just after her wedding in May… and then May came and went… and nothing…

Everyone asking you daily, if you have your Visa… and always asking… But, what if?

June, July, August… we waited, and we started to question ourselves, what if… but never giving up… Bern was looking into working Visa’s and we both discussed New Zealand as an option.

 BUT, then finally on the 23rd September 2008 we received an e mail advising us that we had been granted permanent residence… and that was it… it was all we needed to keep the spirits strong.

The two months before we left was worse than the wait. Our house wasn’t selling, we were spending money on air tickets and boxes and suitcases and more… and the worst part was that everything we had built up together was literally given away… and then a week before we were to fly, our house was hit by a storm… My car damaged by a fallen Jacaranda tree, and the roof of our house hit by another massive tree that took out 8sqm of roofing. The talk of recession, and the exchange rate were working against us, and it was becoming hard to say our farewell’s to friends and family. Finding homes for our animals, was heartbreaking…  the guilty feeling, indescribable… We were physically drained, and emotionally exhausted.

But, we never gave up… and literally gave it our all… and landed in Adelaide, on a warm sunny evening… and it was behind us all… we had arrived…

And now, we experience the warm wonderful weather, we ride along the Torrens river, we walk in the clean streets, we shop at Rundle Mall, and we’re moving to the suburbs…

Believe me though, we have had our fair share of trying moments here, trying to fit in, finding a home, questioning if we will find employment, spending rands as opposed to dollars, making new friends and having no family… but the choice has been ours… we’re giving it all we’ve got!

11th January

 With a new year, comes along a fresh perspective… a New beginning…  and for us, it’s in a new country.

We’ve left  behind that comfort zone, that we clung to so dearly… and have realized that our comfort zone has become a tired old friend of the past.

And without necessarily talking about it, Bern and I have embraced this new adventure. We have no fixed routine, so when we get picked up by a stranger at a DVD Warehouse Sale, we have no hesitation to join in the fun. And what a wonderful evening we had…

We pretty much feel like this is home now, and aren’t making such big fools of ourselves. We know which shops to shop at, we know when and how to fill up with petrol, we know what a bargain is, we know where to live, and not to live… Life is starting to become more like it should, with a little more normality.

This 8 weeks has been the adventure of a lifetime and we have been truly blessed.

We spent most of the week, dreaming of our rental, discussing what we would do with the place, and what our chances of getting it would be. We’ve heard all the dreaded stories how hard it is to get an application accepted… so let’s just say we were a little skeptical.

Our agent phoned us on Wednesday morning (my heart beating like it’s never beated before)… and said…

“Hi Kirsten, your agent from Brock Harcourts here”

“Yeeeeeeeeeeeessssssssss”… I said

“Well” she says… “Are you still keen on that duplex you put in an application for?”

“Oh, Most definitely (sounding very overeager)” I shouted.

“Ok, thank you, goodbye”… and that was it! That was all she said…

No reason why she called, no rejection, and yet, no confirmation that it was ours. Bern was staring at me blankly thinking I had some news, but alas, I did not. So we walked around the flat… confused… impatient and desperate. Staring at each other and then laughing…

Half an hour later, we got the call… ‘Kirsten, me again, Just wanted to let you know YOU GOT THE RENTAL!”

But the best was yet to come, she said, the landlord specifically said I needed to tell you…

“Welcome to Australia”…

And what a welcome that was! So we’ll be moving in this Friday, to the rental we could only ever have dreamed of. It’s pretty much fully furnished so we don’t have to splash out on more and it’s right next to the river Torrens…  every bike riders dream.

On, the subject of bikes, Adelaide is just amazing. We ride for 2-3 hours most days, all around Adelaide. Through the parks, and through the city, during the morning, and at night… there we all are… amazed by where we are. I never dreamed we would feel this sort of freedom, I never realised just how much we used to stay indoors, at home… watching TV. You can ride in the middle of the city at 7:00 in the evening, and come across runners and walkers, cyclists and kids, all living life to the full! The parks here, also have gym equipment, similar in a way to the kids jungle gyms, but specifically designed for adults to use. There are hurdles, parallel bars, pull up bars, press up T bars, and along the Torrens, there is actual equipment that you use your body weight to increase the resistance – so you can do a FULL gym workout, i.e stepper, leg press, leg raise, shoulder press, lat pulldown, bench press… all FREE of charge and available 24hrs a day. Ok, so we still look like gobsmacked tourists occasionally, but less than when we first arrived.

The other exciting news, is that Bernard got his learners licence… he woke up on Friday morning, flipped through the learners handbook, and promptly announced. “I’m going to do my learners”… That was it, no panic, no stress, no chewing finger nails… NOTHING!!! And off he went, paid his $25, sat the exam… and PASSED. Now, when it comes to my turn, I’ll have to be dragged in like a panicked animal with no nails left to chew on… I mean, he could have acted a little nervous, made me feel better about my ridiculous self… but no… he was the epitome of calm. The pressure on, is incredible. Let’s just remember Bern got the job, at his one and only interview, and now… he’s passed his learners… first time! Ugh… wish there was a hole I could crawl into…

Alas, there is no hole… and life must carry on! And I will pass my learners, and then my drivers, and life will be ok… I hit these moments of panic, especially now that we are moving away from the area we have become adapted to, but it also means we close a little chapter, and start a new one. Goodbye to council living and strange council dwellers… goodbye to a tiny flat and hello to New beginnings… and a house right by the Torrens River…

And people that once were strangers, have now become friends… and not just because we have a nationality in common, but because we have a whole lot more…

26th January 2009.

New beginnings marked new emotions for me. Closing our chapter on Hawthorn council housing proved to be harder than moving from South Africa to South Australia. Hawthorn was where I had made home, developed some roots, developed a love for my new country and felt completely at ease. People’s faces were becoming familiar, shop assistants more talkative, and we no longer needed the Garmin to get us from place to place. This was home… and this was where I wanted to be.

And as much as I was excited about our new move and our new adventures I had this sense of loss. It felt like I had to say goodbye to something all over again… I was totally unprepared for these feelings that seemed to have sprung on me quite suddenly.

On the day we collected the keys for the rental, my cheeks streamed with tears all the way from the agents office to our new home… the home we had signed a lease for a year… 12 months… 52 weeks… 365 days… it all seemed just too much. We were going to live in the middle of nowhere, where the streets seemed barren, the people seemed creepy and the trees seemed dead… and this is where I thought my journal would end… Why bother keeping a record of something that really shouldn’t be recorded…

But this is also where I realised what an amazing family I am blessed with, and what an extraordinary man I am married to. Bern’s efforts at maintaining a peaceful home must not go unmentioned. Despite all the tears he managed to get his girls through it all… and we’re out the other end, living life to the full.

I have so many stories leading up to the move, and after the move, but felt the need to mention what was going on at the same time… and how without a sense of adventure and a sprinkling of humour… one’s perspective can change from good to bad…

And that is all it was… my perspective, my outlook… The trees here are beautiful, tall and strong. The people here are normal, some are creepy… but just as creepy as my local council friends (and they made great stories). The streets are clean, paths maintained, and roads taken care of… And the grass… well, it’s greener on this side… WAY greener. We are 5km’s from the centre of the city, and our front door is  literally 50 metres from the most awesome cycling path… that seems to go on forever!

We’re  settled now , and I can call this home… but it took a bit to get us here… And this is how the story goes…

With Bernard only having a week left till he went back to work, we decided to visit Historic Port Adleaide, enjoy the museum and take a stroll around the place. What we didn’t count on was having a two hour ferry cruise around the port, only to leave Port Adelaide hours later! The museum itself was interesting enough, but it was the immigration section that really left me feeling quite privileged about the way we came to this country. Compared to what they experienced back in the day… we had five star luxury, and our “awful” trip from Jo’burg to Perth was nothing to complain about.

A quote that stuck with me written in 1849 by a new immigrant read… “All hearts did rejoice to be expelled  from our floating prison”. Imagine what kind of struggle those poor people went through. This is also another amazing part of Australia… they are truly accepting people. Immigrants to the country are made to feel a part of the country… and encouraged to embrace it like their own. Maybe that is what makes it easier to adapt here, perhaps the common bond is that somewhere along most family lines there is a migrant in search of a better life. .. better opportunities and more freedom. It’s not easy starting over again… but I could never say it’s hard… especially not harder than the lot that did it in the 1800’s… they must have been crazy!!!

Talking about crazy, we still hadn’t packed any boxes for the big move on Friday… I mean really what can one family of three collect in two months, a couple of items here and there perhaps… No, not our family! We had literally squashed the tiny 2 bedroomed flat from corner to corner with new goods needed to set up for our new home.  If it hadn’t been for Manny who kindly offered to help transport some of the heavier goods in his vehicle, we would have been moving for days… yes, DAYS!!!

We are not the type who like asking for help, and prefer going at it ourselves, so when Bern mentioned Manny had offered to help... I just gave him the raised eyebrow… and he then went ahead and happily confirmed with Manny that help was needed… much to my distress… Had I only known what we were really in for, I would have taken the extra help offered by friends, Kerry and Steff…

So Friday arrives, and we collect the keys for the rental… oh, and sign the lease. The agents here are really laid back… everything… “No worries”! Actually everyone here is pretty laid back… and if you say you are taking something, they take you on your word… and don’t rush to get a signature on a dotted line… But of course it did leave us wondering if we would get there and not have a rental to go to because perhaps their word wasn’t as good as ours.

Keys collected, we drive to our new home… arrive and open the door to be welcomed by the most awful stench… and as you may recall my emotional state was not at any  point where a bad smell might be tolerated… Ripping open doors, windows and blinds eased the smell and frustrations a bit, but this was only the beginning… On closer inspection in the ‘professionally cleaned rental’ we found cobwebs, stains, cigarette burns, dust, dirt, grime… and… dirty underwear… I was finished… I could not live here… and I wanted MY council housing back… I wanted to live with the creepy bunch of people in government subsidized housing…  Judgment clouded the mind… and rationality flew out the open window. ..

But I had no choice, this was moving day.

We got back to the flat, and I mentioned to Bern that I was happy with Manny helping transport goods, but was not happy with him doing any manual labour. This was our move, and I didn’t want a new friend to feel like he was being used as some form of cheap labour. It was going to be up to us to get the fridge, 73 kg washing machine, tumble drier and dishwasher down the two flights of stairs… and would you believe (with the help of a special trolly we had bought) we did. Well, Bern did most of the work, but I am sure I played some vital role like assisting him down the stairs.

So we have all the brand new goods on the pathway next to the apartment block… And Manny arrives… Load the fridge in the vehicle, throw in some extra boxes… pack up Mitsi (our ’89 hatchback) and away we all go… it’s about a half hour drive. Becca decided Manny was better company, and so was his air-conditioned car… she’s a clever thing, and hitched a ride with him. We got to the rental, unpack the stuff… Bern and Manny go on a little walk to see the area, I pull out the disinfectant… and about an hour or so later, we head off again… another load… only now I realise that the rest of our furniture is sitting… on the pathway of the apartment block…What had we been thinking????? Brand new items, nicely packaged and ready to move… outside low income housing… in a dead quiet neighbourhood… they were surely gone…

But we arrived, and lo and behold they hadn’t been taken, let alone touched!! And that’s how we carried on. Our valuables left on the pathway ready and waiting for the next load. We thanked Manny after he had done his third trip with our belongings, not being entirely able to thank him enough for his kindness, time, petrol and vehicle… and not to mention an AWESOME travel companion for little Becca.

Between the both of us we had decided that we needed to make a clean break from our flat. So we undertook to get all our items moved and to get the flat clean by that same day… Kerry and Steff had offered to bring us over supper, but we decided that we would need to decline… And so, the rest of the evening we packed Mitsi to the brim… Becca shoved between a bean bag and potting soil…Pots and a clothes drier… toilet brush and microwave…  The poor girl never moaned… perhaps it was the laughs we were having… maybe the tiredness… but we all got through it. And at the stroke of midnight we finished off the last bit of mopping at the flat… and headed for our new home… Unpacked Mitsi, managing to walk over all our worldly goods, Bern headed for the fridge and cracked open a beer at two in the morning, gulped it down… and we headed for bed… exhausted…

The next morning we collected our pot plants from the flat, and closed the door behind us…slid the key under the door as instructed.

 The end to a new beginning, and the start to a newer beginning.

More to follow…

28th January 2009

The newer beginning seemed daunting. Our two month holiday was coming to an end, and reality was setting in, Bern would be going to work, and Becca would soon be following her way out the house, and going to school. My last weekend before normality resumed.

We had an awesome ending to our long break together, we decided that we would ride into the city and watch the Tour down Under (secretly hoping we’d get to spy Lance Armstrong). And that was what we did. We hooked up Becca’s trailer bike to Berns, filled up our water packs, hopped onto the bikes, and away we went… The freedom of being able to do this is totally indescribable. There are no words that I could possibly string together to convey the sheer awesomeness of it all. From our driveway we are 2 metres from the cycle path that winds it’s shady way along the Torrens River… Over bridges and under them… you feel completely free… and safe. Maybe that’s why you feel so free… you have no worries and safety is not a concern. Well, for most… You see… Bern has his concerns, and rightly so.

He worries for my safety… and not from the harm of others, but from harm from myself.

I have to be the clumsiest person on a bike – but clumsy in the oddest situations… Give me a downhill with roots, dirt and a rock in between and I can ride like a star. Let me come to a flat tarred area, where nothing should get in my way – and I will find a way… and come crashing down… hard. I have had a few of these, and each time Bern breathes a sigh of relief that I have not in fact injured myself beyond a kissable repair. I don’t know why he doesn’t laugh… I don’t know if I could be so heartfelt. I mean I turn into a corner and suddenly, I don’t know… the bike and I part ways… except for my feet, because they’re still clipped into the pedals… I mean, how can he NOT laugh…

We managed to get to watch the tour, after I had also managed to fall outside the front of a building with a tradesman watching from his ute (bakkie). My ribs hurt… but my ego hurt more…

Luckily within minutes, we saw Lance Armstrong… and what a great experience… What a great rider. We saw him from a distance, and I had the camera ready… so steady… aimed and poised for that moment every photographer dreams of… Closer and closer he got, and when I was ready to click the shutter button… I had a moment of shock… Lance Armstrong… 1 metre from me… and as I looked up in sheer amazement I clicked the button… and lost sight of my camera angle… The photo of him was of the tarmac… I treasure that photo, because it reminds me of the feelings behind the camera lens. You’ll be glad to know I did manage to snap a few of him… but they weren’t as close as he had initially been…

Thousands of people lined the streets… And just before the race began… the loudspeaker bellowed…”Please be upstanding for your national anthem”… and it was weird, my national anthem… I kept going over it in my head as crowds were equally grasped by the words  ‘for we are young and free’…  The ride back home was fantastic, we managed to get back whilst it was still light outside, and enough time for Bern to feel relaxed and enjoy a Sunday before work started the next morning.

When the alarm sounded at 5:45am on Monday morning… I just wanted to close my eyes and forget that Bern was off for his first day at the office. But I couldn’t and Bern gave me a kiss goodbye, jumped in the driver’s seat and rattled down the road in Mitsi, on his way to experience work and the Australian way. I seemed to be able to hold it together, until a few special friends e-mailed to see how I was doing. Carman knew even from thousands of kilometres away that I needed a chat, Lyn knew I had a heavy heart, and Kerry knew that I needed a little space… but not too much... just the right amount. I felt silly, like one of those troubled teens, lovesick and totally irrational… it was silly… but I was even sillier…

And thanks to my beautiful friends, I pulled through it ok. Kerry popped round the next day, with her daughter (Becca’s new playmate) and would you believe… with Crème Soda and Nik Naks… things were going to be ok. Crème Soda can fix anything… What I seemed to have forgotten was that I wasn’t the one having to experience new challenges, after all… I was the one staying at home… or was that a challenge in itself?!

Bern’s first week was a good one, which was a relief for us all. He came home to tell me that all was well, and that the people were great… He also told me that when he first walked in to the office, the receptionist wasn’t there, and so he just hung around… waiting… hoping not to get the attention of this rather massive, boot wearing, tattoo covered , scary looking Aussie bloke… also that he was somewhat relieved when a rather meekly looking chap asked if he needed help… Bern stated “I’m your new systems co-ordinator’… and the meekly chap said…’Hang on. Let me get the person you need’… And guess who the person Bern ‘needed’ was… yes, the massive, boot wearing, tattoo covered scary looking “Aussie” who bounded up to Bern and greeted him with…’hallloimmacharrison’…

The scary looking ‘Aussie’ turned out to be the company’s production manager, Bern’s boss… and had actually said “Hello, I’m Mick Harrrison” in the broadest Scottish accent known to mankind.

So Bern has a fellow immigrant as his superior, and they share a common understanding without even having to talk about it. The one worrying factor is that Bern won’t pick up an Aussie accent, but rather an olde world Scottish one… Who would’ve thought?!

Bern works at a commercial furniture factory owned by Les Steven’s, and as far as Bern is aware of, Les is no longer involved in the daily running of the business… until he learnt the hard way! He asked ol’ Mick Harrison if he had ever met “this Les Steven’s guy”, to which Mick responded… “Yea, and so have you – you were introduced on your first day… and he’s in and out the office all day”…

I can’t believe that when my darling hubby was introduced to a man called Les, he did not click and perhaps assume what should have been assumed…

He’s also asked if the bakkies that were parked were in fact office bakkies… Mick has obviously adapted to Bern, and gave him an answer, but as many people will know… Bakkies are not bakkies here they are utes. Like takkies are sneakers and sausages are snags and jerseys are jumpers and dinner is tea… We’re still learning… but we’re getting there…

On the day Bern went to work I picked up the phone and enquired about enrolment at our local school. Things work differently over here. You don’t get put through to an admissions lady, you get put through directly to the principal, who then says… come over in half an hour, and you can ask all the questions you need to ask. So that’s what we did… In ridiculous heat, we walked to the school… halfway Rebecca stops and says… “I’m ready to blow”… It was hot and I felt the same… and it was bliss to walk into his air-conditioned office. I asked all the normal questions… like times (school here is 9:00am – 3:05pm), uniform (generally they like you to stick to the uniform… huh??), school fees ($170.. gulp..a month I ask… NO, per year… huh?), stationery (supplied by the school… huh?)… and that was it. He didn’t want to see my passport or Bernard’s, only looked at Rebecca’s because she made him. Didn’t want to see her inoculation sheet, or income statement, or proof of residential address… nothing… No deposit, nothing. Just one thing he wanted… an answer to… would you like Rebecca to join our school?

Her school is also a centre for the hearing impaired. So a few of her school mates are either deaf or hearing impaired, an unlike other Australian schools, her second language she will be learning is AUSLAN – Australian sign language.

Trying to get the uniforms was a whole new learning experience. We went a few days later, with the idea of kitting Rebecca out from top to toe… Only to be met by some feisty women who wanted to save me a couple of dollars. So I ask for a golf shirt… and they just stare, and don’t say oh you mean this only other shirt, they just look at me blankly almost like I have spoken a north western dialect of some Ethiopian language…

Turns out the golf shirt is called a Polo Shirt. One mother (bless her money saving tips) asked me how many I wanted, and I said four, and then she said, two and I said four… and so the debate continued… till eventually, perhaps when she thought I was about to start frothing at the mouth, she allowed me to buy three…

And once we get over the shirt hurdle now come the skorts (shorts that look like a skirt)… I ask for three (lucky number three you know), and she said… ‘Nah, go to Big W… they’re $17 cheaper’… I  mean that’s all very nice and everything, but the closest Big W is like 10km’s away and I only have a bike… So I say, well could I perhaps just have one… and giving me that blank Ethiopian dialect stare again reluctantly gave one to me. I didn’t bother asking for the two different styles of hats… just got the bucket hat. Managed to get a jacket… but wasn’t able to get the jumper (waste of money you know) and wasn’t able to get the long pants because it really isn’t cold yet… and anyway, like the sweet mother pointed out… the uniforms are more of a guideline... huh? Bless the Australian school system… A lazy mothers dream come true…

And before I knew it… I had completed my first week. And I had survived… the house, now filled with love and laughter and no more bad smells. The bathrooms and kitchen disinfected from top to toe… and to end off our week we had a barbeque at Kerry and Steff’s… and met more great people.

It’s been a while since I’ve laughed so much… laughing so hard we had tears running down our cheeks… and those, were happy tears... coming from a happy heart.

Till the next time… take care.

28th January 2009

I’m hot.

I have a hot husband and a hot child.

We live in a hot house with a hot garden…

And no I am not vain… just really hot. The temperatures here in Adelaide have reached an all time high, and we are experiencing a heatwave second to none… with a recorded temperature of 45.7 degrees on the news last night. My brother sent me a text (note NOT sms) asking what it felt like… and my best description was… ‘Hmmmm… take your wife’s hairdryer, put it on full heat and keep it blasting in your face all day long’.

Temperatures are reaching the thirties before the sun is even up… like everything… it’s just plain odd. Perhaps a fellow Durbanite might liken it to a berg wind… Now imagine the warmest berg wind you have felt and then double it… no… no… triple it… no… no… quadruple … ah, you get the message… I’m hot!

So, as you know Bern passed his learners… the next goal was to pass his drivers. He had been receiving driving lessons from an ex- South African. And not because the man can’t drive… but let’s remember all those nasty little habits we so joyously pick up and they’ve become an integral part of one’s driving experience. We all do it… hand fixed on the gear stick, elbow on the window, hands crossing when you’re turning… So Bern had to start all over again… and it wasn’t something he was keen on doing, so when Saturday finally arrived, the day of the test… I could see Bern turn a lighter shade of pale… And this was the first time I had seen panic in his blue eyes… He looked ill, and I felt ill for him.

A little jealous that he had gone the whole hog and embraced this conversion head on… nevertheless, I felt for him… until he came back with a grin like a mad man AND a little slip of paper that confirmed he was in fact a competent driver… And as much as I was ridiculously happy for him… I felt sick…

So sick, I asked Bern if his newly licensed ass could take me to the bottle store… Celebration was his excuse… and mine was… well I needed to wash down the worries!

I am a real dork sometimes, I guess we all are. I have this need to succeed at everything. Failure is not an option… and for me when there is a chance of failure… well then, I would rather not even try to succeed…

But this will change. Along with the month of January I will leave my dear friend procrastination behind. February will mark new beginnings… and new adventures…

Talking about adventures, what a weekend we had… Sunday morning we planned to go watching the Tour again… it was the last day, and we felt we wanted to be a part of the final celebrations. Bern mentioned we would leave for the race in the early evening, which would give us time to ride to the city and find a good spot to watch from… Only, just after we got back from our early morning ride (obsessed, yes, perhaps…) I had this sinking feeling that the tour was not in the evening… and man… Bern loves my intuition… it’s always right! We dashed into the city, with the car, and got stuck in the most almighty traffic jam… the race had started and we were stuck in the car. And Aussies, don’t just park anywhere. They ONLY park in designated parking, no cars on verges, in loading zones, in no stopping zones… For the first time I had this feeling of… ‘Why do they have to be so law abiding’… but we managed to find a parking, and we managed to watch the Tour… with the other hundreds of thousands of supporters… the passion in the air was invigorating!

But the passion at the tour was NOTHING compared to what we felt on Monday…

This, was Australia Day.

The day that Australia celebrates with pride and patriotism… and a day I am so blessed to have been a part of. Yes, we all know the cricket was on… and we all know that South Africa kicked butt, but Bern and I wanted to experience what Australia day was all about… and what it meant for Australians.

We started the morning with a ride along the Torrens (did I mention obsessive?) and then got home to jump into our Aussie attire. All of us in cowboy hats, yellow shirts wearing temporary tattoo’s and big smiles… we were set. And off to the parade we went. We felt like real tourists in the outfits, until someone asked us for directions… and all was ok… they were the tourists, and we were chuffed!

The bus we caught into the city happened to have a malfunctioning ticket machine, so we got free rides. Yip, we weren’t charged… the metro bus system’s fault… not ours… don’t have to pay… Happy Australia Day!

Although we managed to watch most of the parade, we had in actual fact arrived 40 minutes late… we had got our times wrong again… it must be all the riding we are doing… the blood isn’t pumping to the brain anymore… it’s pumping to our legs…

Thousands lined the streets and watched, flags waving and people cheering. I got all overly emotional when the different nations were represented. It was so heartwarming. Hundreds  of people, from Polish to Senagalese to Chinese to Italian, all wearing traditional outfits and waving the Australian flag… they had accepted Australia… and Australia had accepted them.

As the premier of South Australia said… “In America they say God bless America, here in Australia, we say… God has already blessed Australia”…

The celebrations and concert in the park eventually became to hot for us, and we headed for the closest McDonalds… ordered take away, and headed to a nearby reserve.

This was Australia day for me. Bern, Becca and I… relaxed, safe and sitting in the dappled shade, eating Aussie beef… on our Aussie picnic blanket… the real Australian Way!

1st February

School here is different. Kids here are different… for example…

I’m leaving the school, after dropping Rebecca off for her first day. My heart is heavy, and my eyes are swollen with tears… When this cute little pigtail wearing blonde girl rushes past me, with a huge grin… It’s her first day of kindi (kindergarten). Only problem is, she’s forgotten her bag… and dad is chasing after her. We’re all in the main school building, teachers milling around, school secretary greeting sweetly… and the principal in earshot. Dad manages to get the attention by shouting… ‘Oi, your schoolbag”… She looks back blushes because she’s left her bag but then promptly bellows out… Oh Sh!t…

And no one flinched, dad chuckled, gave the kid her bag… and that was it. Was I the only one who felt the earth stand still… Had I been the only one to hear the kid shout sh!t???

I shouldn’t have been so worried about Rebecca. I’m sure it’s an in-built motherly thing…but one tends to stress more for the first day of school, than the child actually does. Thoughts ran through my head… Will they understand her? (um… Yes, they speak English and so does she). What if she needs the toilet? (um.. well then she asks to go)…  What if she needs me? (Who was I trying to kid….).

On the first day of school, I had to drag Rebecca out of bed… I’m not sure why I woke her up so early, because school only starts at nine… and after getting dressed and eating breakfast she still had to wait almost two hours before we left for school.

Leaving for school is a new experience in itself. I don’t grab car keys and head out the door yelling ‘we’re going now!’. Instead I grab my sunglasses, slap on some sun cream and apply protective head gear.

That’s right, we ride.

And  generally Rebecca is standing at the door, helmet on head, satchel on back tapping her foot and giving the odd sigh….

The first day’s ride wasn’t all that bad… in fact it was invigorating, liberating to say the least. I loved the fresh air, the breeze and the chatter of the daughter behind me…

It was only the second day that I realised an air conditioned car might have been more conducive to the Adelaidian heat. Temperatures by six o’ clock on Wednesday morning were mid thirties… By 2:30 pm the temp’s had reached 45 degrees. The ride to school and back was choking to say the least, and the worst was that the quicker I rode to get out the heat, the more the wind blasted in my face. And everyone looked at Becca with a sympathetic frown… probably thinking, poor child/stupid mother. I wished they could perhaps realise the fact that the daughter is actually singing away, having a jolly time, whilst the poor mother has to drag an extra 30kg’s behind her.

I felt embarrassed for Rebecca riding into school, knowing how cruel some kids can be… And when we arrived… my worst fears came true… On her first day, all the kids were staring at her, pointing at the bike. I turned to her and quietly whispered… ‘Do you want me to ride round the back’… And she confidently turned to me and said… ‘Nah mom, it’ll be too far for you to walk’.

I breathed in her strength, but continued to be aware of the kids staring… And then, within a few minutes of dismounting, we were surrounded… with ooohs and aaah’s… and comments like ‘cool bike and how awesome’… The bike was actually a hit, and Rebecca was too.

We had to stand and wait for the kids to be split into their classes. My nerves were shot. Hundreds of kids and parents milling around, Rebecca and I must have looked like overwhelmed statues… we just stood there… dead still… absorbing all the new surroundings. I leant over and whispered in Becca’s ear… ‘So, are you excited?’… and she looked at me with her beautiful blue eyes and said…’I’m a bit nervous mom’…. And all I could do was nod my head… I felt just as nervous for her… I could feel her tiny little hands clinging to mine… and I couldn’t do anything to make it better.  With the classes announced,  I led Becca to her classroom. Her teacher was fantastic, I tried my best to hold back a tear… and she handed me a tissue and said ‘I’m a mum too, your daughter will be fine, I can see she’s a confident little girl, so you say goodbye… ‘

And that’s what I did, gave the shortest girl in the class a big hug and told her I’d be back soon… and she was fine… gave me a squeeze, told me she loved me, and ran to the nearest computer… ah, yes… that’s my girl!

Her first week at school was great. She came home the second day and mumbled something about having to go to the principal’s office for her work… Of course the worst springs to mind, and I start explaining to my seven year old the do’s and don’ts in one’s first few days at school, until Becca interrupts my ramblings with…’Mom… I had to go to the office because my work was so GOOD!!!’

Ah, clever child… such a shining example…

Until the day after she comes home complaining that she won’t be getting a reward lollipop on Friday… Admitting  to receiving her first warning … for talking… why worry about her settling in… Clearly she’ll be fine.

My observations and first introduction to an Aussie school:

·         Kids have much more freedom, I haven’t been able to make an informed decision whether this is a good or bad thing.

·         Lice is quite prevalent…  two days in, and we’d already received a notice to say that a child in the class had lice… Needless to say, it is because most of the kids don’t tie their hair up. This is girls AND boys. Rebecca’s hair gets plaited daily… I’m not taking the chance!

·         Earrings… anything goes… big round blue baubles, long dangly silver ones… The boys, well it seems to range from one stud to two sleepers… I’m amazed every time I see it.

·          The uniforms do seem to be more of a guideline, like that feisty mother had mentioned.

·         In our school the kids can wear any shoe they want to… the guideline is takkies, sorry sneakers. So you see pink sneakers, black, blue, white, mulitcouloured… kids also wear sandals, and on one occasion I have seen a pair of dainty party shoes!

·         Becca’s uniform consists of Navy polo shirt and Navy skorts. I have seen kids wearing their school shirt with camo pants… Kids wearing their weekend attire, kids wearing pink shorts and casual  t-shirt’s… and my best… the kids that wear their school uniform that they wore at a previous school… Yip, that’s like going from Durban Girls High to Pietermaritzburg Girls high… and sticking with the Durban uniform… it’s just plain odd!

·         The principal and his deputy wear casual shirts and bermuda type shorts. I guess it’s the weather…

·         Nailpolish and jewelry is not an issue, neither is calling your teacher by his/her first name.

·         School sports are done in the morning… no afternoon sports here, especially in summer it just gets too hot…

So, Becca’s first week was a positive one… and I felt relieved… It’s just amazing how adaptable kids really are…

So if there’s one thing I have learnt from Becca… Just go with the flow…

17th February

It’s been nearly three months now… three months that feels like three years. We have done so much and adjusted so much…South Africa seems like a lifetime ago… and it’s only three months…  This is when according to many, reality hits. The only reality that has hit us at the moment is the freedom we experience. Certain habits are hard to let go of though. At night I still go around picking up our keys and valuables to put next to my bed, I still find myself jumping in the car and locking the door, I still walk in the front door and lock it behind me, we still chain our bikes in our locked garage, we still don’t leave windows wide open and I still look over my shoulder when I get to a traffic light…

I guess it’s never good to get complacent… but to let you know we have slipped up now and again.

We’ve left the car unlocked with the wallet and GPS in sight, I’ve dropped Rebecca at school only to find I‘ve locked the garage but left the front door unlocked, we’ve slept at night with the front door unlocked, I’ve left a cell phone on the seat at a local shopping centre… and it’s all been ok. I am not saying there isn’t crime here, but I think I’ve realised how consumed and paranoid we used to be.

I always remember the first time we had a barbeque with our new friends… I can’t remember which one did it, but when we were leaving, and saying our goodbye’s, they leaned over and locked our door for us… immediately we all realised the life we had become accustomed to…

Naturally, when South Africans land here, there is much adjusting that takes place. But even after three months a situation like the next one leaves you feeling skeptical.

I tagged along with Kerry on a small shopping expedition into the city. We needed to find some parking, so decided rather than to try park on the road we would try a parking garage. The first one we get to is full so we try the next….

Kerry pulls the car up to the booth and asks… ‘How much is it to park here’?

The man answers… ‘Depends on how long you wanna  park’?

Kerry informs the man that it won’t be longer than two hours, and promptly the man replies…

‘That’s fine, pay us now and we’ll take your keys’….

And there was this deathly silence…

Kerry and I both dumfounded… probably thinking the same thoughts…. ‘Yeah right, lets pay you to steal the car’…

And for a few moments we didn’t know what to say, until I blurted out… ‘Uh, we’re from South Africa and we just can’t hand over our keys’…

And so, unable to trust the two odd men, Kerry did a three point turn and we exited the parking garage…

Apparently this is quite normal, as much as it stills seems extremely abnormal!

The strange part about life here is that people actually knock on your front door. They don’t have to get through security at the gate, or the automatic gate, or the intercom… they just walk up to your front door and knock…

This is why you have to make sure that there is no walking around in your pj’s till afternoon… Yes, I must confess I have been caught out… and never will be caught again.

On a particular Monday morning I had decided that my dressing gown would be the attire for the day. A day for myself… a day to kick up the feet and ignore ANY housewifely duties…for Oprah and I… a day to debate with the ladies on The View, and a day to catch up on every gimmick that infomercials could possibly offer. Until… there was a knock at the door… I jumped up and … oh bother I’m wearing my dressing gown… I managed to sneak a view… it was my landlord… so I say nothing… crawl up to my room, grab the closest thing I could find and shove some dodgy shorts on… running (ever so quietly) down the stairs (pulling my shirt on) I now realise I had grabbed my Spingbok rugby jersey/shirt…. crap… that’s such a good way to impress an Aussie… let’s rub the springbok emblem in their face…

So of course, when I opened the door… I tried my level best to act like I wasn’t out of breath… and act all casual… trying to hide behind the front door…with my hair like a birds nest and my arm trying to hide the jumping buck…

Upon reflection though… it wasn’t the emblem that needed hiding… it was actually the dodgy shorts. In my rush, I had managed to get my shirt on… but hadn’t managed to get the shorts on correctly… the fly was wide open… and all my buttons were all undone… No wonder the landlord was in a hurry to go…

Needless to say, I get dressed in the morning, and get the house in order… because you never know who just might pay a visit…

Bern is settling in well at work, the people seem to be friendly and accommodating. He’s had a practical joke played on him, and has even joined in with the blokes to bet on the footy matches.

He’s also had the general manager pushing Mitsi (the ’89 hatchback) around the parking lot. Yip, you read right.

When Bern leaves for work, it’s still pretty dark, so the headlights get switched on… problem is, is that by the time he gets to work… it’s very light. So let’s see if you can do the math…. One car with lights on plus one whole day parked with lights on… yip that equals dead battery!

The only problem, is that by the time hubby realised Mitsi was dead… There was no one to help jump start the car… and NO jumper leads!

And the only way to get it out would be to push… So there Bern is, pushing the car a couple of hundred metres when, the big boss drives by to find out what is going on… Puzzled Bern wonders to himself how the man knew… it wasn’t long until the boss explained that Bern was actually triggering off all the perimeter alarms at the factory!!! Anyway, with help from the boss Bern managed to get the car out of the factory area, and had to wait for the RAA.

Bern now has jumper leads of his own… he decided after the second dead battery episode, it might be to his advantage to own a pair!

 Becca is settling in well, and is adapting to the new work load. I can see she enjoys the challenge and loves the fact she is learning so much more. Along with her educational growth, the attitude growth is coming along quite nicely. She seems to have perfected the art of moaning… I am hoping this is a phase that will soon be a distant memory. Perhaps it’s just the onset of adolescence… 5 years too early!!!

We are still riding to school and back… but I’m hoping that before Winter hits I’ll have my own car…

And about cars, well how can I get one when I am not legally allowed to drive!!

Remember my stresses about failure and such like! Well, a week ago, Friday, I decided to ‘take the bull by the horns’. I had it all planned out… told no one… and when Bern had left for his forklift training course, and Becca was dropped at school… I snuck out the house.

And walked…. And walked… and took the wrong route…. And turned back… and walked…. And walked until I got to the O-Bahn (bus highway) were I caught the next bus into the city.

What a ride, the freedom, the independence with ‘eye of the tiger’ playing in my warped head!!

You can do this!!!  Yes, you can!!!

Only problem was, I hadn’t taken a map book… and I forgot which road the building was in…

Luckily, Adelaide city was planned for the map-challenged in mind, and I found my way fairly quickly to the place where I was to write my learners…

Well, I ended up not exactly writing, you can do your learners here on a computer… you just touch the screen. It was very simple, (I was told) and then the computer flashed the first question… but for the life of me, I couldn’t get it to highlight the correct answer. I knew what I had chosen was WRONG, but I just couldn’t get the damn thing to work for me… After a couple of minutes pounding the delicate touch screen, I decide to ask for help… And as the efficient lady pointed out… the question was merely a demonstration, as stated across the top of the screen… duh!

So, I was on my way. The first part of the test is 8 give way questions. If you don’t get these correct you aren’t allowed to carry on with the rest. This was just awful… I mean I know I can drive bit jeepers, which car must give way??? I managed to get through (phew!) and was able to proceed.

Once the 42 questions are completed, the screen comes up with a message that tells you whether you passed or not…

And YAY!!!!!! I had passed!!

On the way back home, I was ecstatic, after all that stress, and worry I had not failed!

And when Bern got home, and told me he had his forklift license, I turned round and said… Well, I just got my learners license!

The cost of the test: $25.

The smile on my face… priceless!

4th March 2009

There’s a quote by Henry Ford I like… Whether you think you can or whether you think you can’t… you’re right.

It makes a lot of sense, but of course we all know that it’s easier said than done.

After successfully passing my learners theory test, it was now time to get on with the practical.

Legally, when you land in Australia as a permanent resident, you have 3 months in which to convert your licence. What many fail to mention is that once you pass your learners, you are forced to get your drivers within 1 month… Furthermore, if you fail the first time, you have to wait another 14 days before you can redo the practical. So if you work out the math… you technically only get enough time to do it once, with a push maybe twice. For those that fail, well… my sympathies go out to you.

Once passing the learners theory and new Australian driver has to complete a 50 hour driver’s log book, with an experienced driver. Only once they have completed this log bog, can they apply for their P1 - provisional licence (and have a big plastic P plate stuck on the back of the car). Once they have completed a hazard perception test (?) and vehicle on road test can they then apply for a P2 licence. At any time can their P2 licence be downgraded back to a P1, and a P1 back to a learners licence…

It’s all just crazy, and it would take at least a year to get a full South Australian drivers licence. I reckon it would take me about 3 years…

Anyway, failure wasn’t an option and Bernard got in touch with the driving instructor and arranged my first lesson the very next day - some might think motivated, I just kept thinking overeager… overboard… insane… mad… and all I wanted to do was act like an ostrich.

You see, I thought ‘I can’t’… I can’t drive an automatic; I can’t drive an Aussie ‘tank’… I mean I am 5 foot ‘high’ for goodness sake. How could I see over the dashboard LET ALONE parallel park?!! 

On the day of my lesson I asked Bern to phone the instructor and cancel, he just raised an eyebrow, and hid the phone… I even begged him to do it for me… what was I thinking?!? And who was I kidding?!  Bern should have stuck a big giant ‘L’ on my forehead, not for learner… more like for loser!!!

Minutes before the instructor was due to arrive; Bern shoved me out the house with a kiss and a wave… My stomach was churning… How could Bern be so unfair and uncaring I thought, why did I have to go through this… until it dawned  on me… Bern had to do it too…

Would you believe that after a couple of successful driving lessons, and bucket loads of sweat, I actually began to enjoy driving the ‘tank’… Being five foot was no challenge when I had power steering and a 3.5 litre V6 on my side.

The observe, gear, indicate, observe, drive routine was becoming second nature and I realised that I could actually do this. I could actually pass… and in fact I could escape the tedious Australian driving system that those poor Australians have to endure.

I was ready, with the attitude of I CAN!

But, the ‘I CAN’ attitude didn’t help two days before the practical when I had a nasty fall off the bike.

Picture this… 3:10pm, all the school children milling about, cars driving up and down, parents chatting  and me riding with Becca attached on her trailer bike.

She tends to wobble a tad (perhaps an understatement), and on Thursday  she decided to wobble, just as I was making my way between a passing car, a number of hysterical children and slow walking parents. And as she wobbled hers, my bike did too, but my foot was stuck in my left pedal… and with nowhere to go, I had to literally ‘put the bikes down’. And without any thoughts of my own well-being I made sure I fell just right that the impact would be taken by me, and not Becca… or my bike.

And for a brief few seconds it felt like everyone stood still… cars and kids… just stared, and then I realised that the parents were running from all different directions to come to our rescue. Of course, that’s when I jumped up and made sure Becca was ok, she started to whimper as more and more adults gathered around. And as any mom knows, you know when your kid is hurt or not… and she was just fine. I was in agony both physically and emotionally, with disapproving glares all around, I had to act like it was all ok. Thanked everyone for the help and gave Becca ‘the look’. She knew to drop the whimpering act and get on the bike. Thanking everyone for their concern, I pushed the bike through the gathering, making sure not to limp… and rode off, with a smile on my face, into the sunshine…

Becca was fine, and had not received a scratch. I actually think she was whimpering because she knew she was going to have a lecture from me about wobbling the bike. But I was just too damn sore. My left knee, because I couldn’t unclip had dealt with the impact of the fall, along with the neck and wrist… of course the worst was the knock my ego took…

And I had my drivers two days away… it dawned on me that perhaps I could score some sympathy points with the sore neck and knee… much to my dismay the bruising and grazing didn’t appear life threatening, and my sympathy-pass plan could not fall in action.

The worst part was the next day when I had to ride Becca to and from school. Every time my leg bent in the pedal motion, the newly scabbed knee was tested… and the skin was pulled freshly open…

Who says girls can’t handle pain?!

By Friday evening I was pretty calm about the whole practical, so ‘calm’ in fact that I decided to let the hair down and have a couple of drinks… Looking back, I think, perhaps it was a bad idea, the alcohol clearly numbed all the bodily pain and any stress I had felt consciously or subconsciously and the glass never stood empty. And I went from having one beer with Bern, to a couple of Malibu and cokes… and then when I had finished half the bottle of Malibu, went in search of anything more. Luckily (unluckily?) I managed to find a bottle of Southern comfort. I even remembering chuckling to myself about living in Southern  Australia, and drinking the ‘Southern’ comfort!

Now most of you will expect that the brain must have been rather clouded in the morning, but I woke up feeling so chilled. Perhaps, the effects of my binge still hanging around…

I had the whole day to relax, my test was only at 5:00pm, and I felt great about it… until about 2 hours before…  and then I became my usual self… completely worried about failure… And to make matters worse, everyone knew I was doing the practical that day…

The drive to the testing area was a breeze… observe, gear, indicate, observe… I was cruising! This would be easy, so my instructor decided to practice my parking… Perfect… I can do this…

BUT… I just couldn’t… Half an hour before my test started, I had gone completely blank on parallel parking. Backing into the bay, I started wondering which way I was supposed to turn the steering wheel… and ended up turning away from the curb instead of towards the curb. My poor instructor just sat quietly, as I verbally abused myself over every failed attempt.

And as I am stuffing up each and EVERY attempt, we get a text to let us know that my practical has been rescheduled and is a little earlier. With 10 minutes to go, my instructor reluctantly asked me to give it one more go… and I finally made it… but the question was: could I do it in the practical?

We usually chat so much during lessons, but I am sure we were both wondering if I could pull this off and never said a word as we drove to the testing area.

Meeting the driving examiner didn’t help the nerves much, when he mentioned he’d had a bad day and just wanted to get home, my heart sank.

Even more so, when he mentioned he had failed three people that day.

Climbing into the car, I realised that any moisture that was normally in my mouth had gone to my hands… so my mouth was dry, and my hands were dripping.

I tried to make arb conversation, but he wasn’t joining in, clearly he had had a bad day and wanted to go home. Somewhat irritated, he mentioned that I could go… BUT…

Earlier I had noticed he wasn’t wearing his seatbelt… and I had this inner conflict going on. Do I tell him? (and risk p!ssing him off even more) or do I just go? (and risk failing to tell my passenger to belt up)…

And so, after his third request to go, I turned and said…

‘Please could you put your seatbelt on, and I will start the engine’… gulp…

‘Ah’ he said with a huge grin on his face… ‘I’m impressed, I’ve never been told to do that before’.

His bad day mood had changed and he chatted away continually, so much so that I could hardly concentrate… or hear his instructions… because as he was directing the route, he was also giving me directions to the nearest pizza shop…

So it went something like… ‘At the next road turn left, then from your house to the pizza place turn right into North road, turn your next right, on the left of the hotel you’ll see the pizza place, now do a u turn, make sure not to miss the pizza sign on the left”…

But I managed to get through it all, including the parking… and when we drove back to the start, I pulled the car next to my driving instructor. Both the examiner and I shook our heads and looked down…

My poor instructor looked dismayed… until the examiner and I started laughing…

All was good, I hadn’t let anyone down… and all the stress was for nothing…

And typical of all Aussies, the examiner gets out the car and says ‘No worries’….

 5March 2009

Something, I keep putting off is my C.V…

We had decided initially that I would stay at home for a while, until life here started settling down. But lately I wake up every morning and wonder if maybe ‘now is the time’… time to get off my rear, and get a job.

Bern has the job, we’ve found our rental and Becca is settling in at school… our 6 boxes that were shipped from South Africa are long unpacked… so really, there’s nothing  that requires me to be sitting at home all day. And I’m just not the kind of person that likes to be at home… I mean, when it comes to housework, well… I’m a bit of a cheat.

I have total admiration for women (and men) that enjoy staying at home. Making sure early morning is spent in the kitchen and laundry, cleaning clothes and dishes, making sure the beds are made and the rooms are swept midday, shopping in the afternoon and picking up kids, then coming home to prepare a glorious meal and attend to homework and such like.

I have a problem with spending the whole day doing chores… so the days that Bern gets home and the place looks kept, it’s only because usually I have cycled to the school in the afternoon and picked up Becca, dashed home, and rubbed the genie out the lamp.

Within an hour and a half I can do two loads of washing, tumble dry and hang clothes, pack the dishwasher and unpack it, vacuum the viewable areas, make the beds, prepare supper and complete the homework…

I just don’t see the logic of spending an entire day cleaning… and perhaps it has something to do with the fact I have always worked, and managed to cope with general house duties… without making a day of it.

So what I am saying is that it’s not like I have an excuse like ‘I need to keep the house clean’ to stay at home, when I know very well I can accomplish the task during the late afternoon.

So I decide to start looking on all the job sites.

But I have a tall order… I want a job whereby I can leave late so I can get Becca to school, and I want a job that ends a little earlier so I can pick up Becca before school ends… BUT, I don’t want a half day job that ends at lunch time. I want a job that allows me to communicate with people, a job that is close to home, preferably on the bus route and I want a job that pays fairly well.  A job that I will be able to be trained in, and not thrown in at the deep end. Also, I want a job where I can wear smart/casual attire (all my work clothes are still in a box somewhere on a ship at sea)… But most importantly, I want a job where my personality gets me the job, and not my skills.

I don’t have qualifications, but I am prepared to make things work. The problem with that, especially being in a new country… you have no credibility. You can’t say I worked with so and so, or I did such and such… no one could really care.

 And for the two weeks I gazed stupidly at the advertised jobs, wondering what to do…

You see anything secretarial they want to test your words per minute, and if it wasn’t that, you had to have MYOB… (it stands for Mind your own business). For those in RSA, I think it’s something similar to Pastel accounting software. And for everyone that knows me, well, I have no accounting skills.

So my CV was just a blank page named résumé… saved in a folder under ‘My documents’.

Until two weeks ago, I saw a job that sparked some excitement!

Bern sat up with me, late into the evening, helping with every detail of my CV. I had such a good feeling. This job had to be mine.

Friday the 20th of February I sent them my C.V… and for a week I heard nothing.

Not even an automated response thanking me for the application.

And then, doubt and recession talk crept into the equation. How could I be so silly, to think that in these ‘bad economic times’ I would be even asked to come for an interview, when there were probably hundreds of Australian applicants…

A week and a bit later (this Tuesday) I received a call… Was I still interested and would I be able to come for an interview the next day?

Wednesday I was dressed in my (put-together –lack-of-clothes-that-fit) interview best, and caught a taxi in the pouring rain to my interview…

An interview for a job that

·         Starts at 9:15am (enough time to get Becca to school)

·         Ends at 2:45pm (enough time to pick up Becca from school)

·         Requires speaking to people

·         Is on the bus route

·         And is only 2km’s from home

·         Requires no typing and words per minute

·         Requires no accounting

·         Will provide training

·         And pays fairly well.

I had to have this job. It was mine, and I walked in wanting it…

I was interviewed by two women, who run the call-centre. I was told upfront that I wouldn’t know the outcome of the interview until they had checked my references and had interviewed all candidates.

I understood…

They spoke about the economic recession… and I understood what that meant…

I could only be considered once the human resources manager had read through my questionnaire… I understood that too…

They asked the usual…

What are your strengths and weaknesses… and all I kept thinking was… I know I went over this, but geez… what are my strengths?!

Three words that best describe you… oh my… how can I describe myself…

I just went blank… uh caring… I said… Who says caring as a word that best describes you in an interview?! Well, I did…

And then, they asked if I had any questions, and we all kinda laughed because I had been asking questions the whole way through…

And then the weirdest thing happened, we started talking and got completely off topic, and then the one lady turns to her colleague and says… I really like her… right in front of me!

Then she says, well, it’s not normal practice but we think you would be great??

I was gobsmacked… and responded with ‘does that mean I get the job’?

And, I did. I’ve just received my employment letter in the post. I start next Tuesday.

I had got the job, the one I could have only dreamt about. Sure, it’s not what I know, and I’m sure I’ll face some challenges… but I’m an immigrant… we love challenges…

14th March 09

So I’m now a working gal… and not the type that stands at the street corner, I’m one of those damn telesales gals that just can’t get enough of the word NO!

As work day approached my emotions varied… I was excited but apprehensive… eager but not overly… relaxed but stressed… in fact I was a walking contradiction…

So much so that when I went to bed I guess the excitement and the lack thereof cancelled each other out and I was able to get a good night’s sleep.

When the alarm went in the morning, I just wanted to shut my eyes and sleep… I was shattered. Perhaps the riding on the weekend contributed… we had of course done a ride the day before … and ridden five hours, the day before that!

I did my usual routine, still with eyes half mast… sandwiches and snacks for Becca and Bern… coffee to wake the senses… and plonked in front of the TV. When Bern left for work, I was still lounging on the sofa… still in denial of the day ahead. Greeted Becca with one eye shut, and set the alarm for 7:30am. Now let’s just put this into perspective.

Becca has to be at school at 8:35am.

We aren’t riding because I need to be in my ‘first day best’ attire, and we have never caught the bus in the morning, AND I have no clue when the bus departs.

It’s now 6:45am and I decide to sleep just a tiny bit longer. How long can getting ready take anyway???

It gets to 7:45am and I just mange to get my butt off the sofa… I wonder if they call it a sofa because I ‘sit on (my) fat ass’… anyway, I manage to drag myself up to the shower and freshen up… Barking commands at Becca along the way. The shower helped, except I realised that by the time I had finished, it was now 8:05am… and I had wanted to leave at 8:15am… Mmm… problem… I don’t know what to wear…

I mean, this is of course is every woman’s downfall. You think you can conquer the world… and then you open the closet… and, oh dear… What the hell do I wear?!

Brown dress with leggings… dress is feminine and leggings… good combo… but crap, shoes don’t match… I need more shoes…

Next, Black pants and white button up blouse… nice and corporate… ugh no… the buttons are popping open and I look like a sloppy waitress…

Next…

and let’s just remember that I don’t have the time (or the inclination) to pick up the discarded clothes off the floor…

Jeans and T-Shirt… who am I kidding, right… next…

Ah yes, black dress with leggings…. Black is always good, and luckily I have shoes to match.

By this time 8:15am I am happy with ‘the look’ but have sopping wet hair… and a face completely devoid of any and all war paint… Yip, that’s right… I should have left five minutes ago, and I haven’t done the final touches… Running around doing mascara and eyeshadow, I realise that we don’t have bus fare. So I have to con my seven year old into lending me some of her well saved dollars… I convince her that I will pay her back (with interest) and we are ready to go… I remember to brush my teeth at the last minute, stumble down the stairs, tripping over my own two feet… and shout to Becca… You’re ganna make me late (oh, whatever… find anyone to take the blame)… Tapping my foot at the door, Becca informs me that she has lost the money… our bus money!!

And that would probably be about the time, I thought human combustion was possible. I threw her bag in a fit of panic… and marched out the door… it was her money after all, and hell… the worst thing that could happen was that she would be late for school.

We literally ran up to the bus stop… Becca moaning every step of the way! We managed to catch the last school bus and the bus driver, when I enquired about the cost said… ah if I’m driving ya darlin’ no fee… but another driver will cost ya about 5 bucks’…

Bliss!! We caught the bus down the road (it’s a long road people, don’t judge) and hopped off just before the school…

Apologising for any unmotherly behaviour I gave Becca a kiss and a wave goodbye. And headed on for work. The walk itself was somewhat tedious and rather hot… I was relieved to have worn black…

And relieved that I had got to work on time…

I was met at front reception and lead to the ‘dungeon’… The call centre is like the dingiest part of the building… right at the back and at the bottom of the building. I think we’re in a basement actually…

I was so relieved when I met the other new girl… especially when I realised that my sopping wet hair was no match for her (worn) navy blue tracksuit pants, white (brown?) takkies and a khaki green T-Shirt nicely complimented with a giraffe silhouette.

And when we were taken on a tour of the building, I knew my outfit would be ok, when I glanced down and read the fuschia pink embroided words across her rear… Sexy bum…

Meeting the other women was daunting. They bombarded the call centre with loud voices and large personalities! Openly checking us out… looking us up and down… thank goodness I didn’t have sexy bum across my rear. I sent Bern a panicked sms that said ‘This is scary, a bunch of loud Aussie women”…  and his response was… Welcome to Australia.

I hate being the new girl. And what’s even worse, I’m that dodgy new girl with that dodgy flat voweled accent. I was relieved when training began. Although, my stomach sank when we cut training early because the other new girl was proving to be the local call centre know-it-all… and I must have exuded some sort of call centre confidence that they thought I could do it all… just fine. At the desk, I had my telephone ear piece awaiting, with a cold lead book staring back at me…

Now picture this. I am trying to sell Lottery tickets to raise funds for a local charity. The tickets are $50 each. And I am trying to sell these tickets to people from all over Australia. So yip, I am having to speak with people from the bushfires, people from the floods and people ALL over the country having to deal with the whole ‘ Global economic crisis’…

It was tough… but it went quickly because with so many tours, introductions and “training”, effectively I only had to cold call for an hour and a half. I had made it through the day… and the girls seemed ok. Tomorrow was going to be ok, and so was I.

Wednesday was my worst day. If I thought I was tired the day before, it was NOTHING compared to what I felt like then. I couldn’t face going to work … Bern had to make lunch… and eventually had to drag me out of bed before he left for work… My alarm still set from the day before, I decided to sleep in on the sofa again… and again, having to drag myself up to the shower barking orders at Becca… and again having wardrobe dilemma’s… and again slapping on make up at the last minute. By the time my mascara had dried, I was in tears… I wanted to stay at home and hide from the world…

I hopped on the bike with Becca (much easier than walking and catching the bus), dropped her off at school and headed for work.

I had to stop a couple of hundred metres ahead and dry up the tears. I felt so stupid… I must have looked really stupid.

Walking into work was a bit better than my first day. And I knew it was going to be ok because I had done the job the day before BUT what I wasn’t prepared for was doing the job for five straight hours… Five hours of sitting in the same postion, staring at the same damn sheet in front of me, getting rejected by every person that I phoned… having the phone slammed down in my ear, people verbally abusing me… the list goes on and so do their excuses.

The worst part was having call-centre-know-it-all sitting next to me… Making sales here there and frikken everywhere. When lunch time came, I picked up my phone to get some reassurance from Bern. This is where I have to hand it to the guys. They do this whole immigration thing like true champions… whilst the wives/partners (ok, I’m speaking for myself here) generally have moments of complete collapse!

Bern was trying to find out what was wrong… but there was nothing to explain… the work was ok, the people were really nice… the office was welcoming… AND I had made one sale… but, I was still in tears.

I now know that it was just because I had to spend my entire day being rejected. And I like to be liked…  I mean let’s be honest here… who wants to be hated?!

The girls in my office were fantastic, and even managed to help with lifting my spirits, and reassuring me that it would all be ok… It was hard but each day got a little better. I was even invited to join a bunch of them on a quick lunch excursion to the local salvo’s (Salvation Army shop). And on Friday, I got to know them all a little better when we went out for lunch to celebrate one of the ladies birthday’s.

Now you see, you have to remember that we don’t really get to talk because we are on the phones the whole day… so I can only really judge by appearances. But whoever said that you can’t judge a book by its cover, sure was talking about these gals…

*Mary is a large lady. Large in size and large in attitude. Quite frankly, she scares me… and scares most of the other gals. She looks like a no nonsense, take everything serious and don’t bend the rules kinda gal. Amazingly when we went for lunch on Friday, she was nowhere to be seen and when I enquired as to her whereabouts, I was informed that she was at the other end of the hotel playing on the pokie machines… nothing like having an office lunch and someone’s gone awol and headed off to gamble.

*Molly is rough and tuff from the… call centre. When I arrived at the lunch she had a tequila shot waiting for me… mmm… let’s think about this, we only have an hour for lunch, and we still have to go back and work BUT the girls are drinking like escaped convicts. I was about to decline, until she asked if South Africans didn’t know how to knock back tequila. So I grabbed the salt, licked the hand, poured the salt, licked the salt, shot the liquid, chewed the lemon and proved South Africans girls know how it’s done…

The funny part about Molly is that she is a pretty blond, with a smiling face and smiling eyes… but boy…I was shocked… and not so much when she scooped the gravy out the gravy boat with her finger, but when she let out a RIPPER of a burp at the table, not once but TWICE!

Lunch was truly an eye opening experience… and not what I had anticipated at all. I think working in the call centre is going to add an awesome chapter to my new beginnings…

Till the next time, take care…

*Names have been changed for fear of workplace disharmony.

6th March 09

I’m still not used to:

·         Having to make sure I always have coins in my wallet when I shop at Coles. You see, because so many people use trolleys (and then walk home with them), Coles have developed a system whereby you insert a coin ($1 or $2) and the trolley chain is unlocked from the others. This has become a real pain, especially when you are trying to do a big shop. A trick though, if we are in a more up market area, we know that generally the people are too lazy to push the trolley back to the trolley bay, and they forfeit their coin. In the lower income area’s there is no hope in getting a trolley, because if someone has left it standing, someone has pushed in back to claim the dollar. Becca has also learnt its fun to push back lazy people’s trolleys and score a little cash.

·         The way the Australians criticize their politicians… If you thought South Africans moaned, well you’re in for a surprise! I often used to think that the Aussie’s had no clue what other politicians were like BUT I have since decided that the government here HAS to work for its people otherwise they will get thumped. So good on you Aussies… carry on with the criticism.

·         All the signs. To say that the Aussies are safety conscious is perhaps an understatement. Often I expect to see a sign that reads ‘Mind your step, beware of sign’… or better yet, I almost expect to see when we are mountainbiking a sign that reads ‘Uneven surface’ or better yet… caution ‘cyclists ahead’. Then again, there is no excuse for ‘not knowing’ or doing the wrong thing.

·         The school system. Kids here are encouraged to have self discipline. I mean, can you imagine what that must be like for our poor Saffer kids that come over here. They come from a system which would make Hitler proud… a system of fingers on lips, respecting anyone just because they are older/wiser, a system of standing in lines and a system of ‘because I said so’. And they get to school here and our kids act like they have been freed from the shackles of dictatorship. I couldn’t understand what was happening to Becca… from being a fairly ‘rule abiding’ kid, she went AWOL… And within four weeks of school, she’d already been sent out the classroom twice, pulled some girls hair in the bathroom, been sent three times to join another classroom AND been sent to the principal’s office for pushing some boy. And the more she went berserk at school, the more I went berserk at home. I tried everything, took away privileges, play time, reading time… and nothing worked…. Nothing….  And before my eyes my daughter had turned into my worst nightmare… and even worse, I had turned into the type of mother I never wanted to be…  And only on discussing this with the school secretary did my lightbulb (finally) switch on… and I realised that it was because Becca has NEVER experienced self discipline. She has always been told what to do and how to do it… both at home and at school. And the more control I was trying to regain at home, the more out of control she was getting at school. I had to force myself to suppress the control freak in me… and I am still getting used to the new approach, it seems to be working… she hasn’t had any warnings this week… well…. she hasn’t had any warnings yet. And like Bern said, even though I was trying to help her avoid punishment at school, she has to learn about consequences herself.

·         Calling a bakkie a ute, a robot a traffic light, a koki a texter, a sausage a snag, a swimming cossie a bather, a bottle of Tip-Ex a bottle of liquid paper… really the list just goes on!

·         Saying Yip instead of yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah. Saying Hiya instead of Howzit, and saying Seeya instead of Cheers. And eating dinner at lunch time, at tea at dinner time.

But, I am now used to:

·         Those people that were once complete strangers. I think its part of the reason we have been able to settle so quickly, we have managed to find friends that we just ‘clicked’ with. Many that come over want nothing to do with South Africans in the early days… and only to make Australian friends.

However, when we got here, we realised the importance of sharing experiences with people who have gone through similar situations. And in time, I am sure we will make a few Australian friends… But we have a lot to learn before we understand their humour, their passions, their background and their way of thinking.

And it’s just awesome to be able to say voetsak, howzit, skattie, yaaaah, laaitie, bliksem and braai… and not have to explain myself.

20 March 2009

 Many immigrants will tell you, that at a certain point in their journey everything feels surreal… and as much as you feel at home, you don’t.

This is called new beginnings because that’s exactly what it is. Everything is new…  the smells, the sights, the sounds, the people, the fauna and flora… everything.

The first time I experienced a rainfall here in Adelaide, I felt a familiarity I haven’t felt in months. The cold rain hitting the tar awakened my senses and took me back home… and home wasn’t Africa… Home was that place in my heart, those comfortable candy-floss feelings…. that smell you just can’t verbally describe… yet a smell that describes wonders to your heart…

And as an immigrant you begin to understand that when you packed your suitcase, your box of comfort was a luxury that just couldn’t quite squeeze in.

Whoever said home is where the heart is truly underestimated the power of those words…especially for an immigrant. It’s amazing to see how people long for home… and yet, they are unable to describe why. They are enjoying their new life, new surroundings, new job… 

I think they long for familiarity, that comfortable candy-floss feeling… and so they long for home… the only place they know… the only place they felt comfort.

BUT… living without comfort opens new chapters to your life… A new beginning, with no limitations placed on yourself or others.

I feel I can do anything here, be anything I want to be… I have no one judging me on past experience or social standings.

I can be the person I wish others to see…

I can be a paper delivery person, a shelf stacker, a dog walker, a window cleaner… even a call centre operator…  it’s all about choice.

What you can’t choose is the direction your life leads… but luckily so far… I have been pretty impressed with life’s decisions and the path it’s chosen for me to walk along…

Or should I say ride along… because that’s all I seem to do these days… well, at least I’m having the ‘ride’ of my life!

Work is really adding a new dimension to my ‘ride’. The first week was pretty interesting. Everything and everyone were new. By Friday though, I had managed to make a couple of sales here and there, and I realised on Sunday evening, I was kind of looking forward to going back and learning more.

My first call on Monday nearly caused me to fall off my chair… when the guy on the other end of the line said he would buy three tickets! That’s $150!!! Try converting that…

I make about 130 connects a day… that’s when I actually get a person on the other end of the phone… and I must dial the phone at least 380 times. I have one of those groovy little headsets coupled with that kiff South African accent…

I get rejected ALL day long. I have tried the overfriendly routine, the stern routine, the quiet routine, the slow routine, the speed-read-everything-on-the-prompt-sheet routine… and it all depends on the mood of the person on the other end of the line.

Often, if I introduce myself and if they respond with a heavy sigh, I just go straight into it by saying – I am selling lottery tickets for a charity, mate…. Do you wanna buy? They’ll usually say nah anyway…

Sometimes, I introduce myself, and they just slam the phone down in my ear…

But my worst, by far, is when I have a person fascinated by the flat-voweled accent. The idiots keep me rambling for five minutes about the lottery and the prizes and all about the cause.. and when it comes to the final crunch.. CAN YOU PLEASE HELP? They just respond with… ‘Nah, but where’ya from?’

I mean… for flippen Pete, Tom, Doug and Stacey’s sake… really... do they even know how boring the routine gets?!?!

All day long, I hear the same words… over and over and over and over,  like a stuck record… and all he wants to do is listen to my accent… pah-lease buddy… phone Africa if you wanna hear it!

Talking about phoning Africa… I have called two companies and landed up chatting to South Africans… the one guy donated… he said he heard me say South Africa and he was sold… the other, well… he told me to go look at his website… and didn’t buy a ticket… I haven’t looked at the website either.

At all times, I have to be polite.

And this proves to be somewhat difficult for this feisty red head... I don’t take kindly to insults… Especially when, at the end of a conversation with a particular cantankerous old git, he says to me…‘what a jerk, bloody w@nker’… and slams down the phone…

Yes, he did… the old man called the sweet, friendly telesales LADY, a w@nker… I mean, let’s all be upfront about the issue… how a lady can be a w@nker???

And this was my make or break moment for me… Should I pick up the phone and have it out with him, get him to explain the finer details… should I take his phone number… cycle to the nearest call box and express my most vulgar outburst right back… should I… should I…

It just wasn’t worth it, and I laughed. The rudeness still irritates me a bit… but I don’t take it all personally. I can’t. Also, it’s quite strange, but people just can’t say no… there always has to be an excuse, ok some are legitimate… Many Aussies do donate, and it’s fair enough that they can’t donate to every flippen charity… but the excuses I hear, are priceless!!

And I’m now compiling a list of the best one’s yet… here are some from this week.

It is important to bear in mind that we ONLY phone businesses… and we ALWAYS ask for the owner.

So they (the owners) get the whole speech and then I say…

So, will you be able to help?...  

… ah,nah… I’m actually only half an owner…

… ah, nah… I’m in the middle of dead sh!t nowhere…

… ah, nah… I’m a student…

… ah, nah… I’m retired…

… ah, nah, sorry did you want the owner...

… ah, nah… I’m actually on a church roof and my credit card is in the car…

This week’s winner would have to go to the wonderful lady who owns a television repair shop… I had phoned her and given her the speech earlier and she had told me to call back, I didn’t manage to secure her name, however she assured me that she would be the only one to answer the phone when I called after lunch…

Funny when I called back, and asked her if she would be purchasing a ticket… her response was…

… ah, na… sorry… I’m just the cleaning lady.

I couldn’t believe she thought I would be so naïve as to think a business owner would let the cleaning lady answer the business line… When I asked the ‘cleaning lady’ if I could perhaps speak with the owner… she replied with…

…ah, na… it’s just me here, mate… I’m on me own…

Whatever… I might have been born in Africa, but I wasn’t born yesterday!

Besides all the excuses and the abuse I’m actually beginning to love getting up and going to work. I work with a crazy bunch of women… a whole page needs to be dedicated just for them… if you thought our neighbours in council housing were interesting, just wait for the next installment.

23rd March

I’ve introduced you to Molly, and I’ve introduced you to Mary… but I think it’s about time I introduced you to a few more ladies at call centre central.

We all sit in these little cubicles. Speech prompts stapled to our pin board partitions, along with cheesy calendars… of cats and flowers and ponies and more… The cubicles are painted this mint green, it’s supposed to be the colour of productivity but coming from a mint green painted home, for me, it’s more like the colour that induces nausea.

At each cubicle we have our phones, our headsets, pens and paper and our flip files filled with all the information we need about the charity, and filled with a complete exercise regime for that tough task of call centre operator. That’s right… we have tips and tricks to avoid the discomfort and ‘injury’ brought on by this rigorous occupation.

In particular, I find chapter 6 – ergonomic considerations at a workstation – rather fabulous… it encourages regular stretches of five to ten minutes… giving me a summary of all the exercises with diagrams to further explain the heading… Stretching your productivity.

Actually before I get onto the gals, perhaps I might make mention of the Occupational, Health, Safety and Welfare Act...

I don’t know much about it, actually I am sure Bern would be able to teach me a thing or two… but this act is enforced EVERYWHERE, and to the extreme. Take for example a few quotes from my booklet (book?!)I received on my first day at work.

“When lifting, pushing, pulling, lowering and carrying, you need to be careful - you might hurt yourself”

“Use of hand tools in the office such as staplers, scissors an pens may result in muscular discomfort, and may eventually lead to conditions such as Occupational Overuse Syndrome (OOS)”

“Organize layout to place the most frequently used objects within easy reach and to minimize twisting or overreaching”

“The disadvantage of using angled work surfaces is that objects can slide off”

I could go on forever… including the note about ensuring that expired foods are removed from the fridge… but I think it’s time I returned to the days of my life at call centre central!

When I first started one I was placed in a cubicle alongside the new girl, Sarah… the giraffe-silhouetted-know-it-all-sexy-bum-tracksuit-wearing newbie. Sarah is just the worst person I could have been seated next to. All day long, she pops her head over the partition and gives me a cheesy thumbs up… She doesn’t need to use the sign language because all day long I hear her squeal with delight as she convinces some good citizen to hand over their bucks.  And as much as I know I should be all supportive, I can’t help but think she needs to climb on her slanted desk and slide right off. I mean after all, it’s one less person on the ‘Sure I’ll buy a lottery ticket’ list. Sarah is a great fan of tracksuits… she has mid length ones, casual ones… but by far my best was last week’s classy black number… beautifully embroidered with Very Sexy on the rear… AND the down length of her left arm… Sarah likes makeup and alternates her eyeshadow  from eighties blue to nineties pink… Now and again, she alternates the green giraffe shirt for a strappy little Aussie vest…

Now if I peek around the side, on my left sits Ray. Well… she doesn’t sit… this woman just can’t keep still. She has mentioned that she only works for the money (who doesn’t?!)… So what Ray tends to do all day, is find any and every excuse to get up and go to the kitchen/reception/toilet/supervisor/colleague… the woman just doesn’t stop. She’s like a moody energizer bunny, and is completely insulted any and every time our supervisor tells her to sit down… or shut up. Apparently she is one of our best operators… maybe it’s those ‘stretching your productivity exercises’, I think I’ll give those a try sometime.

Molly, is well, Molly. Quite frankly  I have never met another woman like her. And as much as I initially saw a pretty blond… I really don’t see that anymore. Molly is really rough, but seems to have a sensitive soul. The only reason she works is because she lives off a government pension, and if she had to quit working, the government would cease to pay her. Molly has the Australian flag tattooed on her bicep… well, it’s in the shape of a rectangle with blurred red and blue, I can only imagine that in her younger days the flag was better represented. She arrives late to work every morning, and has two chocolate bars for breakfast. Yip. Ladies you read right… every morning. She’ll talk with her mouth half full, I expect with brown drool running down the chin and once the choccies are completed Molly proceeds to suck every finger on her hands, and not discreetly. Incase you were wondering, Molly doesn’t actually sell well. I expect she is there to fulfill the government ‘quota’.

Yvonne is the office irritation. I don’t know if she can hold down a decent conversation because I’ve never tried. But I sure have heard her whine… and moan… and groan… At least once a day she has to waltz up to the radio and turn it off. That’s her way of gaining attention. Although she forgets half the time the radio for us girls, is just a distant buzz in the background. Yvonne will stand and wait for 100% attention, even if our supervisor tells her to get on with it and have her say. When it gets to a point that everyone is staring, Yvonne will have a moan about the coffee spoon in the sugar bowl, or the dirty fork in the sink. She’s generally pathetic, and everyone agrees… but no one puts her in her place… she just has her groan and someone will shout back at her… ‘yeah, yeah, good on ya’… now turn the radio back on…

Lunch times are interesting. The three smokers dash out for a nicotine fix whilst the rest of the ladies form the three groups. It’s strange… everyone has their ‘group’… I felt like I was back at school again and when I had to choose my lunch time gossip gaggle, I made a bee line for the largest one… safety in numbers if I remembered correctly. The smallest group is our supervisor, and her two sidekicks. They natter about office politics, and who said what and any other scandalous info. Group two, consists of four other ladies… they’re the quiet one’s… and I couldn’t begin to tell you what they talk about because they are just so damn quiet. Group 3, my group, I guess is just everyone else that doesn’t want to be in a group. There’s about ten of us. And we talk about anything and everything. They’re very interested in learning things about South Africa, but even more interested to teach me tons of things about Australia.

They also whine a lot, about the poor service (?), the government (?), the politicians (?) the taxi’s (?????), and their safety (?)…

Perhaps this is when I am glad to be a South African in Australia. I get to experience Australia from a South African perspective…  I get to appreciate their service, their government, their politicians, their taxi’s and more… the Aussie’s sometimes don’t know just how good they’ve got it…

Till the next time, take care…

27th April 2009.

 Becca will probably kill me when she’s a little older for sharing this with the world, but I nearly fell over with laughter when I received this note in her ‘communication book’ from school:

Can you please remind Rebecca to use a handkerchief when cleaning her nose. Fingers are not the appropriate tool. Thank you.

Clearly she’s settling in well, if the only feedback a teacher can give me is that my eight year old has her finger shoved in her nose. I threatened Becca that I would pin a hanky to her school shirt if I received another note… to date… said finger has stayed clear of said nose.

We received another note this afternoon…

Your child, Rebecca was sent to the office by a staff member…

Oh dear, I thought… not again…

… She sustained a head injury…

And no one phoned me?!?!!

… She bumped her head on a pole in the playground…

No, you have to be kidding… a head injury… ?!?!!

… She has been observed by a staff member and can you please look out for the following signs…

 

Get real. How many times do these teachers have to ‘observe’ these “injuries”. This is yet another perfect example of that extreme safety conscious culture. Next thing you know they’ll be removing poles from the playground because they pose a safety hazard to the kids. All they’ll be left with is a patch of grass…although they’ll soon have to get rid of the grass… you know for that one in a million grass rash sufferer.

Shopping is always such an interesting experience, especially when we’ve forgotten our stupid dollar coin for the trolley. I learnt tonight an easy way to remedy the situation…. Just head off to the nearest teller and ask for cash out… and ask them to make sure they give the cash out in dollar coins. Funny, I expected a weird look… but I didn’t get one… maybe I’m learning to be more ‘stralian…

We’ve started a little routine here… shopping on Thursday’s. Apparently that’s the night to do late night shopping, I say apparently because we always go so early I wouldn’t actually know what late night shopping entails. It just means that on a weekend we don’t have to fight with the masses to secure a fresh loaf of bread and a couple of food items. Tonight being no different, we head off to Coles.

Rebecca completely ecstatic because we have promised her a Barbie doll.

The Barbie doll is a reward for all the money she has been lending us, yes you read right. The worst part is, is that she has been funding our developing gambling habit…  yes, you read right again.

Mother and father are robbing the child blind to pay for our footy tipping gambling habit. Footy (Aussie rules football) is big over here… the Aussies are passionate about the game. So, take the passion for the game and couple it with another national obsession… pokie machines… and you get footy tipping.

And at both of our companies, our colleagues have felt it imperative that we join in on the fun.

Secretly I think they want us there because we’ll help to increase the final winnings. That being said, Bern and I both came home, to confess that we are involved in the office footy tipping. What can you do but laugh…

So we choose who we think will win over the next 22 rounds, and maybe with some luck we’ll guess the winning teams and bring home a couple of bucks. Maybe not… I mean how do you go about choosing which team will win, especially when you’ve never watched an entire footy match!  Bern was horrified to find out how I had chosen my ‘winning’ teams. Take for example the Lions vs the Eagles… I thought well, I am from Africa and so is a Lion… I’ll go with the Lions. And what about Hawthorn against Geelong… easy, our council flats were in a suburb called Hawthorn… you get the point… hey, at least I tried!

Back to shopping… We pile the trolley full… with this and that, stopping of course to grab 3 bags of Liquorice Allsorts. Coles has an amazing range, and quite a few of my yummy South African favourites… Nando’s peri-peri, Mrs Balls Chutney and Beacon Liqourice Allsorts to name but a few. I’m still searching for that elusive bottle of green cream soda… I long for the day when I can buy it like any other regular Aussie drink.

We get to the teller, and we’re piling the food on the counter, when the cashier turns and holds up my pack of baby corn…

‘Do you know how much these were’?

So I give Bern the puzzled look, and tell her …’No’ … thinking … what was SHE thinking, surely she wasn’t expecting me to tell her how much it was… and then take my word for it!

So she calls some chap, who heads off to the veggie section to look for the price on that silly pack of baby corn. He comes back with an even sillier look on his face and blankly says… ‘Ah, I can’t see a price on them; I think they’re about $4.50’.

At this point, before he can ever utter another word… my poor brain is working overtime and shouting out thoughts like… you think… you think?! $4.50…. well, I think you can sh…

And then he said, ‘so if they’re normally about $4.50… how would $1 sound’?

Huh?! A dollar… the mid chatter stopped… and we both said happily… ‘Yeah, a dollar sounds good’…

It didn’t take me long to mention to Bern that I should have taken two… but he just laughed and so did the cashier.

It still amazes me how trusting the Australians are. At our office we have a box of chocolates that sit on the front desk. At any time, you just put your money in and take a chocolate. No one checks your money and you can help yourself to change if need be… and what I find completely mindblowing is that every time they count up the money vs the amount of chocolates, everything adds up. In the shopping centre’s they have trestle tables OUTSIDE the shop doors and windows… unmanned. No one takes anything… and if they do, it’s because they’re heading INTO the shop to pay for it. Even the petrol… you fill up your tank and THEN you pay for it. Quite often if Bern is filling up, I go inside to pay. Bern usually drives forward to let the next person fill up… and often I expect someone to run screaming out from the store… But no one ever does… And I mean, look at the facts in front of you. We’re driving a buckled 1989 Mitsubishi that has more smoke pouring out the back than a diesel engine could ever compete with!

When we went tenpin bowling we were literally ‘bowled’ over when they gave us the bowling shoes, but did not want our shoes to hold as security. They probably wondered why we wanted them to ‘look after’ our shoes! At IKEA when you buy a coke, you pay for it and they hand you an empty cup in return.

Once it is filled and finished, there is nothing but your integrity stopping you from filling it up again… When we went on our first tram ride, the tram conductor never checked that we had tickets; all he asked was if we needed any…

But my best has to be the guys and gals that check your bags when you leave a store!

You hand them your bag filled with items that could have been easily from theirs, and they nod their head and say… ‘ah yeah, it’s all good’.

And when you reach out with your till slip proof in hand, they don’t even take a slight glance.

One thing I love about living here…My word is my word… and no one questions it.

03 April 2009

Well… I survived and completed my first month at work, and if there ever was a hurdle to jump, this would have been it. It all feels normal now. No more wardrobe dilemma’s… I just jump out the shower and put on whatever fits or looks good… shout to Rebecca (again) and head for the daily school drop-off and work experience. Becca’s now advanced a level and ride’s her own bike to school.

‘It’s a grown-up thing mom’… she tells me… ‘I look better on my own bike anyway’.

The trailer bike has its disadvantages (especially with a wobbly kid on the back) but it sure does have its advantages. The main one is of course, that I am in control… and she goes where I go.

But, as we all know… things don’t always happen the way you want them to… and on our way to school, I realised that the trailer bike had a puncture.

It came as no surprise…

The day before, between our three bikes we landed up getting a multitude of thorns stuck in the tyres and tubes… And as Bern was repairing puncture after puncture… and replacing tube after tube… I decided it best that I stop pulling out the thorns… because each time I assumed I was helping the situation; all I did was create another little opening for the air to shoot out.

The thorns were acting as a stopper… and I was acting like an idiot… again.

So, on Monday, when I realised we were riding on the rims… we had to dash back home and much to Becca’s approval… the situation dictated she rode her own bike.

Between shouting… ‘Go left’ and ‘No, your other left’… we managed to make it to the school in one piece… my nerves were frayed, but physically we were fine…

During the day her bike stays under a sheltered parking area… specifically designed for all the kids that ride in mind. With benches and parking bays… it’s pretty awesome. I always have a good chuckle… the immigrants bikes are always so easy to spot… they’re the ones padlocked to the parking bays…

Work is really becoming well, just work… and I love it! I love the fact when I park my bike in the morning, and I walk past the office door, someone usually gives me a hearty ‘Howya doing’?... And as I walk through the reception, on the way to do my make up (yip, that’s right), Helen and I have a little chat about her mum in frail care, and her recent mid week break. When I’m standing makeup-less in the bathroom with a toothbrush in my mouth (yip, that’s right again) usually some of the admin ladies walk in and ask how I’m settling… and just as I am applying the last stroke of mascara, dear ‘ol Bertha walks in… and we have our little morning catch up…  I hear about her bus trip to work, and her dear husband, and her asthma… and more… When I head back for call centre central, I stop in at the water cooler and greet Derek (the office handyman), we talk a bit about the weather or the footy… and then I head for the call centre… just a few steps down the stairs.

The safety-signed door is always closed… it looks dingy and dark, but when you push it you’re blasted by good vibes and energy with lots of chatter and hype and stacks of good gossip.

Sarah and I have now developed a good working relationship. Initially I mistook her enthusiasm and encouragement for having a dig at me. Well, when I adjusted my attitude I realised that my tracksuit-wearing-sexy-bum colleague actually became the best person to sit next to. Every time we get a sale, we tell one another and it evokes a sense of competition… but the minute she has more sales than me, or if I’m having a bad day… she’s the first one to crack a joke and make me smile. She’s even offered me a couple of her sales… just so I can make my target. But I won’t take them, and I think she respects me for that… I’ll make it on my own… I’ll prove my worth… And one day, I’ll offer her my sales…

During lunch the other day Sarah was discussing a 21st … and then our conversation went on to a dress up party… and the first thing that my mind and mouth spat out was ‘Ah, what a jol’… and everyone went quiet…

A jol… ‘a party you know’.. say it I said… ‘jol’…

And they all said jahwel… mmm… ‘What about voetsak… can you say voetsak’?

Footsik… mmm…. Maybe not… they taught me how to pronounce a few Aussie words, clearly not repeatable here.

Our supervisor now says ‘Ja’ whenever people ask her a question… I think I’m starting to rub off on them. This weekend I’m off to Ceylon Spices… I’m picking up a few South African goodies to take to the office on Monday… we’re doing a culture swop thing… they teach me… and I teach them.

She’s invited us to a BBQ with a whole bunch of her mates… No need to bring anything… it’s all catered for. She laughed at me when I asked her if her friends would be nice to the immigrants… She replied… “Ah, what you stressed about da’lin… you fit in just fine… anyway if they ask ya… just tell them you spent some a couple of years in Africa, but now you’re back home and loving it”…

Heh heh… I am home… and I am loving it…

But has anyone heard of the dreaded honeymoon period?

I have.

It happens to new migrants. They arrive and fall in love with the new country and almost have this euphoric feeling about everything and everyone.  Within time life starts to settle. Husbands and wives are working, kids are at school, home is rented and furniture is bought. And then, well… I suppose they sit back and wonder whether the move was all worthwhile.

I have asked many people many questions on this subject… and I’ve come to a conclusion.

The so called honeymoon ends the day you let it end.

And even though life has started to settle, I love the fact that life can just be ‘normal’ again.

Waking and working, laughing and living… It’s all still about New Beginnings…

The school Becca attends is also a centre for the hearing impaired. Her LOTE (Language other than English) subject is Australian sign language. And as many of you know, Becca has joined the signing choir… thank goodness for this… her voice is much more suited to a closed mouth and hand signals.

I happened to arrive early the other day, and managed to sneak in and watch the signing choir perform.

There must have been about 40 children. Hearing and non-hearing… all following along (with the teachers aid) to the song, ‘I believe I can fly’ by R.Kelly.

…”I believe I can fly, I believe I can touch the sky, I think about it every night and day, spread my wings and fly away… I believe I can soar, see me running through that open door… I believe I can fly”….

 And you know what got to me.

It was the fact that the non hearing kids were smiling just as widely as the hearing ones…

Sometimes in life, we need to appreciate those little moments. Those little moments in life that pass us by so quickly…

9th April 2009

I’m on a quest.

A treasure hunting, bargain buying, nice stuff finding quest…

And all that’s required is a little bit of capital… a little motivation… a good sense of direction… a handsome sidekick… and a whole lotta savvy.

And well, we couldn’t forget about the trusty steed… or was that more of a ‘rusty’ steed?!

The checklist looks pretty good.

Capital –Well, I am working after all…

Motivation – Has anyone looked at Gumtree? What more motivation does one actually need?

Direction – who doesn’t have a GPS these days?!

Handsome sidekick – Of course!

Whole lotta savvy – Plenty… redheads have a reputation to live up to after all!

(T)rusty Steed – without her… it just wouldn’t be the same.

A home becomes a home, when it’s filled with memories… and living in someone else’s home, with someone else’s furniture is really, well… odd.

So, I guess… my treasure quest is part of a bigger life mission to make home feel more like home… and of course, who doesn’t like a bargain?!

It all started back in council housing… If you recall, Bern managed to secure us a solid wooden coffee table for $40.00… The coffee table was like opening Pandora’s box… potentially with the power to wreak havoc with our finances!

The good news is, is that I have been very selective in my choices… and our finances are still ok!

After the coffee table I saw an ornate wooden mirror advertised… a perfect match for my wooden frames.

The deal was easy enough. I emailed the seller, and we were able to pick up the mirror the next day. It probably cost us just as much in petrol to get to his home.

Arriving at the house, I suddenly felt uneasy. Thoughts of psychotic internet killer ran through my mind… until a friendly lady popped her head out the door and said.. ‘May I help you’?

‘Uh... I’m here to pick up the mirror, I was looking for Chris’…

‘Oh’, she said… ‘Chris didn’t mention anything and he’s at work’…

‘Oh’… ‘mmmm….ok’… Awkward silence….

She broke it by saying, ‘Well, we were planning on getting rid of a mirror; let me go find it and see if it’s the one… ‘Come in’ she said.

And so I stood for about ten minutes (it’s a long time in a strangers house) whilst she scratched through her home, eventually returning with my wooden treasure. When she handed it over, I handed her the twenty buck note… waiting for her almost to laugh… but she didn’t… and I ran…

I had done it, conquered my first of many bargain buys… handsome sidekick put it into the (t)rusty steed and we headed off into the sunset… nah, more like the sunshine… this was summer in Oz after all.

After the mirror, was the bed.

We had planned on buying Becca one of those metal bunks with the study desk. Fantastic furniture had them for $390.00 and we couldn’t commit to spending the cash. Thank goodness we didn’t… We saved $290.00 by finding one on Gumtree. Only problem… the (t)rusty steed…  just wasn’t big enough.

Luckily, we had a Sharks fan friend that offered to help… So the two gents drove along to pick up the bunk… apparently arriving at the house with the Seller still at work… and only the husband at home. Which brings me to the point, why make a plan to meet a prospective purchaser and then not even show up for the deal??!!

The two men stripped the bunk and walked out the door, I believe as the wife was getting home from work. It must have been a little awkward… mmm… imagine having two foreigners in the house walking out with your furniture…

And so with each purchase my confidence grew… and I realised that in order to be a true bargain hunter … I would need to bargain after all!

After the bed, was the tent. We want to camp… enjoy the outdoors… experience South Australia and all it has to offer. Winter, will be the perfect time to stock up on camping goods.

The tent was advertised… brand new, never been used… $90.00 for the taking.

And so I emailed, and bargained… Would the Seller be willing to look at an offer? It was a good buy already, but damn… I was taking bargain hunting to a new level.

Shortly after Trevor (the seller) replied to say a prospective purchaser was coming to collect it, and that unlike me, he was prepared to pay full price. Silly me, and my silly bargaining skills… I still thanked him for his time and wished him well. Perhaps I wasn’t a natural… my skills needed to be worked on.

Until… the next day, he sent me this e mail…

The guy that was meant to pick the tent up tonight cancelled until Monday.

If you want it and can pick it up tonight or tomorrow morning before 10:30am then it is yours for $80 even tho he was going to pay $90, I didn't like his attitude. I feel your energy is better than his.

 

And the next day, we arrived at Trevor’s place with $80.00 and huge smiles. We ended up chatting a whole bunch about camping and for some reason I blurted out…

‘So, is there anything else for sale?’

Bern looked horrified, until Trevor laughed… And pulled out the most awesome camping table…

It was a friend’s he said, but it had been sitting in his garage for over six months.

He wasn’t prepared to sell it, and said he would have to check first.

I received an e mail later to say that his friend hadn’t planned on selling it… and unfortunately wouldn’t take offers much less than $180.00. I responded with an e mail that said… much appreciated Trevor, but we wouldn’t be prepared to spend more than $100.00. I wasn’t bargaining… we just weren’t prepared to fork out that much cash.

Two days later I received this…

I sms'ed him again tonight and to my surprise he come back with ok at $100.

So if you want it for $100 it's yours.

 

And  it IS ours… we’re getting that much closer to our first camping trip… and I’m getting that much closer to becoming a real bargain hunter…

If there is one thing I always keep my eye open for, is Coca-Cola memorabilia. I have Coke tumbler glasses, shooter glasses, buckets, straw holders and more… the problem is, is that I can only ever get my hands on the small stuff because the big memorabilia is so darn pricey!

And I’ve never seen Coke memorabilia second hand… until I saw an ad on Gumtree.

Was it a joke? The ad after all had been placed on April fools day. Was this some sicko playing a stupid joke… I’m always the one that falls for stupid jokes…

A mini Coca-Cola fridge, in the shape of a can… for $80.00… it was too good to be true, but I still had to bargain… Bern said I was mad, I have been in search of one of these for years… and now I come across the first one in my price range and I want to bargain?!?!

But, I got it… and it’s sitting in my kitchen… thanks to my trusty sidekick and his (t)rusty steed…

I guess, it’s pretty much like life… if you don’t take the chance, you’ll never know the outcome….

10th April 2009

We say project, they say prowject. We say maroon, they say ma-roan. We say h, they say heych.

But my worst, by far has to be the word debut….

How else could you say it and WHY on earth would you say… DAYBOO…

i.e. He made his dayboo playing footy, listen to their dayboo single…

I often wonder if it is just because we have different accents… but those words, I dunno…

And even though Saffers and Aussies speak English… certain things are really just not the same. Here’s an example.

What I am now used to:

G’Day…Name’s Bazza. I’m a tradie, I was a brickie, but now I’m a sparky. I’m a regular kinda bloke.I drive a ute, and being a dinky di bloke I greet the postie every morning. I live in Brizzie and enjoy a brekkie at Macca’s and having a barbie with mates. I buy my coldie’s from the local bottle-O, and store them in my Esky. I don’t ever chuck a sickie, actually I’m never crook. I don’t like ambo’s, polly’s and bogans. My kids are in kindy and love eating lollies… although they do enjoy a bit of spagbol.

What I was used to:

Howzit, my name’s Barry. I’m a tradesman, I was a bricklayer, but now I’m an electrician. I’m a regular kind of dude. I drive a bakkie and being a lekker genuine ouke I greet the postman every morning. I live in Brisbane and enjoy eating breakfast at Macdonalds and having a braai with my mates. I buy my beers from the local bottle store, and store them in my cooler box. I don’t ever fake being ill to get off work, actually I’m never sick. I don’t like ambulances, politicians and low lives. My kids are in preschool and love eating sweets… although they do enjoy a bit of spaghetti bolognaise.

And it’s not really an exaggeration. The Aussies take every chance to shorten a word… even the news readers… footy… polly, the list goes on.

But… I love watching the news here. Every morning, just after six we welcome Mel, Kochie and Fifi into our homes. I never realised watching the news could be so entertaining. And I love the fact that if Becca walks through and happens to catch a glimpse of the news… she isn’t faced with gory images of blood and death, which we were so used to on South African television.

The Aussies might have these hard hitting anti-smoking, anti-drink driving campaigns… but when it comes to the real thing, they are very aware of people’s sensitivities. And you notice that when there is a car accident and someone is injured, they always obscure the scene with a blanket or tarpaulin of sorts to spare potential onlookers.

The news is pretty much the same… you are informed about what is going on, and yet are spared the really disturbing footage.

During the Victorian bushfire, I had initially banned Rebecca from watching ANY footage about the bush fire tragedies, until I watched a program where a psychologist explained the various needs of children from ages 3 and up. And, when she mentioned that you should sit with together with children of Becca’s age and watch the footage, it dawned on me that for once she could actually watch the news… without being scarred for life. And so we sat, every morning and watched the stories of the heroes, the ordinary people and of course Sam the Koala. Becca asked many questions, and I hope learned a lot. Had I prevented any exposure to the tragedy, she wouldn’t have benefitted from all the positive stories that were shared as well.

I realised she had learnt something vital when she came home from a day and school, and I asked her how her ice block (like an ice lolly) had been, and she turned to me and said… I didn’t have it mom. I gave the money to the bushfires…

She’s really settling into the Aussie swing of things… and it’s such a relief. I think sometimes we forget just how much our little ones go through. Each week the kids at school have to prepare a mini oral, and each week there is a new theme. The easy ones were… My favourite book, my favourite animal, my holiday… but the hard ones were…

My pet… 

After looking at pictures of all her pets she ended up taking a photo of Bandit the black lab in RSA.

My family…

That was hard for her too … she asked for photos of her ‘Nana’ and ‘Grampa’ and took those to show.

Last week, she came home with the new themes…

Needless to say… I’m dreading the one entitled my best friend…

But that’s a bridge to cross when we get there… and cross it we will…

12th April 2009

There are times when, as a mother, I want to run… far, far away… And it’s not the times when my daughter develops and attitude worse than my own, it’s those times when she arrives home with that invitation… that dreaded invitation to Sports day.

And, believe me; it’s got nothing to do with taking the time out to watch my daughter, but more to do with taking the time out to make idle conversation with some idiot that wants to tell me just how good their child is… you know the type…

‘I can’t believe how well Katy is running… her extra training is really paying off’ or ‘Katy let that poor other girl win the race… good for her’…

Ugh…

Although, you can’t forget those mothers that get so worked up… you think they’re ganna blow a fuse. Again…you know the one’s I’m talking about… the one’s that aren’t sitting idly on the stands… but the one’s screaming threats from the sidelines.

And when Rebecca came home with ‘the’ invite, I was so relieved that for the very first time Bern would be able to join me at one of her Sports days. I wouldn’t have to join the ‘hubby’s-are-at-work club’ and end up sitting next to the chick that won ‘Worlds Best Mother award’ for the third time running.

Instead I would land up sitting to that gorgeous husband of mine… well… so I thought.

I soon realised that the day was going to be a little different when the kids all had their warm up drill…

Two hundred of them all dancing to some latest hit… Clapping their hands and stomping their feet… one step forward and two steps back with their hands in the air, and they just didn’t care!

The funny part was when I went back to listen to the song from the video I took, all I can hear is…

‘Bern, can you believe this, you HAVE to be kidding… and then you hear Bern say… ‘oh geez… no way!’…  and with all our talking… I’ve lost any and all background music…. Silly, silly me…

After the dancing disco diva’s and their stylin’ moves the principal, Mr. Zed gave his announcement… and ended it off with…

Now kids, remember.. There is no such things as losers… we are here to have fun, and we’re all winners.

Nice try Mr. Zed… perhaps you might want to line up the parents and give them the same speech…

‘Now parents, remember… no one’s kids are losers… they’re here to have fun and all your kids are winners…’

But, it was all so different… so incredibly different.

We were given a map of the school grounds, along with the times each event would take place. The kids were split into their classes and from there, split into the houses. Red, Yellow and Blue. Funny though… when the teacher realised that there weren’t enough yellow members, no panics… she just pulled some red members and stuck them in the yellow team… No drama’s and no worries, mate….

The first event was ‘under over’… The kids standing in a line, passing a ball to each other (under the legs, then over the head). The game is meant to end when the first person gets the ball for the second time… but hey, they were having fun and the teacher just let it carry on going.

The final score was judged on attitude and not outcome… fair enough…. I guess….

The second game had me in stitches. Three teams… one hula hoop and a whole lotta beanbags…

The point was to see how many beanbags each team could ‘steal’ from the middle hoop… Everything was going well… and then when the bean bag collection had been depleted from the centre, the kids literally started to steal from the other teams. I’m still not sure if this was all part of the event… perhaps it was because the teacher was so busy taking photo’s so didn’t quite realise the all the ‘homies in the hood’… I was completely shocked to see my daughter running about five extra times, gleefully stealing one beanbag after the other… makes a mother proud…. Really?!

Not sure how we managed to judge the winner of that one… it’s all rigged anyway…

Somehow, during the next game… sorry, event… the teacher managed to get us parents involved. And it progressed from Bern helping roll this giant sized ball to having the giant sized ball rolled over us… the kids loved it…

The sports day was truly remarkable … egg and spoon races, hoop throwing, obstacle courses and more. No pressure… no pressure to perform and to meet parental expectations. Just kids acting like kids and enjoying the benefits of being eight, nine and ten.

I loved seeing Rebecca embracing what the day had to offer, and I think she thoroughly enjoyed having her parents by her side. I’m sure it won’t be long and she’ll soon be begging us to stay indoors… but the laughter we shared is something to be remembered!

The final event of the day was the running races… would you believe that each child that ran a race was given a ribbon… first, second, third and ‘competitor’…

Perhaps, it’s not really a true reflection of what the big wide world is has to offer… but it sure was an awesome reflection of Mr. Zed’s earlier words… There’s no such thing as losers… we’re all winners.

18th April 2009

I am shattered… physically shattered. I never realised just how much one could fit into a weekend. Every muscle in my body is aching, every muscle screaming agony to my senses!

Tenpin bowling on Friday was fantastic… managed to fit that in on Friday after supper! I’m clearly becoming the tenpin bowling champ in our household… a little more practice and I should be joining up with our local ten pin bowling league. We managed to have a round pool after the bowling… definitely decided I should stick to bowling, sinking that shiny white ball didn’t seem to score me anything but a laugh. On Saturday, with the sun shining brightly we decided to have a game of tennis. That was such a joke… Bern and I really need to work on those backhands. After tennis and lunch we went riding around the neighbourhood… beautiful homes… made me drool… or was I drooling because I was so blimmen tired?! And then, just when I thought we could do as much as we could possibly do… Bern challenged me to a boxing match…

Yip that’s right… a boxing match… but that was after we went fishing and after Becca did some slalom skiing and a couple of ski jumps… oh, and after I had a one on one session with my yoga instructor… and yes, how could I forget all this after walking on a tightrope between two buildings and falling to my death!!

Isn’t modern technology a brilliant thing! What a blast! Thank you Nintendo for a work out like I have never had before…

I must say we got off to a really bad start when we initially set up… For those of you that have Nintendo Wii you’ll know what I’m on about… and well for those that don’t… What on earth is wrong with you… you are missing out on a whole lot of fun, which is not only for kids as the kids might want you to believe.

Anyway, like I was saying… we got off to a bad start. Wii fit, is designed mainly around fitness and results. Naturally, there’s only really one way to measure results… and that’s with weight.

Every fat filled cell’s dream… and every woman’s nightmare.

So you choose your Wii fit character… that was a bunch of fun… a little blank canvas I managed to give red hair, green eyes and a sprinkling of freckles across the nose. It was all good… until… I stepped on the balance board and did my Wii fitness test… balancing left and right, trying my best to keep the silly red dot in the silly yellow circle… and then the dreaded results followed…

Oh my, oh my, oh my… oh my…

It started with my cute little lookalike expanding about double the original size, confirming I was in fact overweight, and then, horror of all horrors… my so called ‘Wii fit age’ was 15 years older than my actual age…

Fifteen years… oh sugar-honey-ice-tea!!!

And then well, I had made my mind up… it was wrong (really wrong)… and the way to prove me right was to get Bern to do the same. That would prove it was all just a gimmick to make you feel bad, hence to get you training.

Only… when Bern did the so called rubbish test… he was in fact 4 years YOUNGER than his actual age!

What was that?! Repeat after me…

Sugar-honey-ice-tea…

Obviously, there were only two choices here. Get on or get off.

I chose to get on… and like I said did a whole lot of training… Strength exercises, yoga and a whole bunch more… Trying really hard not to throw the remote through the TV screen, when my ‘trainer’ asked me if I happen to fall or trip over myself fairly often… What the?!… There’s just no hiding my clumsiness anymore… even a digitally created character feels the need to inform me of my inadequacies…

And talking about being inadequate… I just have no co-ords… I scored a rating of ‘a dwindling fire’ when it came to my aerobic step workout. It probably had something to do with the fact that when I should have been stepping off, I was still in the process of stepping onto the board.

Tenpin bowling proved to be more my thing… and would you believe it… BOXING!

After knocking Bern out round after round he’s since threatened to take the gaming console back to the shop. I guess there’s something about a five footer (chick) knocking out a six footer (dude)!

It’s all good… really… really… it’s all good…

And anyway, he gets his own back when it comes to shooting games and cow racing… I guess pretty much like Becca does too… except for boxing… and that’s odd in itself… I still don’t feel right about knocking my daughter out. The worst is when I see her little Wii character lying on the boxing ring floor with no life or energy to pull herself up. It’s just not right… and I’ve had to find ways to convince her that perhaps a game of tennis just may be more fun than a round of boxing…

What a crazy weekend. Thankfully on Sunday (after a game of tennis) we decided to go for a drive into the hills. The weather didn’t seem chilly, so we pulled on some summer clothes and jumped in the dear ‘ol (t)rusty steed.

It was only when we were standing on Mount Lofty summit with the breathtaking view of Adelaide below did we both realise just how cold it really, really was! And wherever we stopped… and jumped out poor Mitsi… without fail we just jumped right back in! So in the true spirit of adventure we decided we would find a cheap, but decent looking warm shirt.

Not a tall order on a Sunday after lunch was it?!

All along the route we realised that the curio shops were catering for the tourists… and as much as buying a locally made Aussie jumper… something made out of Alpaca was just not going to cut it.

So we pull in to that town that Bob has made so famous – Mt. Barker and head for the local Reject Store. Sorry Bob… I know Mt. Barker isn’t famous for its Reject Store… but we were cold, and they were open.

When walked out of the shop, we walked out looking like true Aussie feral… both in matching hoodies… Bern’s with a flame surrounded motorbike riding skeleton, mine with a dagger through a bright red heart… Needless to say, we had to take a photo!

We felt a little silly, especially when we realised there was a car waiting for our parking. Do I really need to describe the scene… Bern and I smiling away, outside a local Macca’s wearing our really cool shirt leaning against our really cool car.

I’m also still not entirely convinced that we didn’t get into that scenic restaurant because they were fully booked… perhaps it had more to do with our attire.

Talking about cars… Mitsi will soon be looking for another home. She has been awesome to us… but she’s really battling to get up and get going in the morning… So her drive around the hills this weekend was really us saying our last goodbyes. Showing her some gorgeous scenery and treating her to the great dusty roads that Australia has to offer. Beautiful autumn scenes, with red and orange and yellow will be a well deserved ending for a courageous little car.

Good on ya Mitsi… you will always be remembered!

It’s just one chapter ending, and another beginning…

And as you all know… I just love new beginnings….

25st April

At this time, five months ago we were standing outside our council housing battling to get our front door open … We were in a strange country with strange people…  absolutely helpless, with no mobile, and no mobile number to phone.

Just as we were about to lose all hope, the key hit a sweet spot and the door was flung wide open.

And what I’ve learnt from that night five months ago is that without a bit of effort you’ll never find that so called sweet spot… and the doors will never open.

A couple of days after landing we picked up our (t)rusty steed from dear ‘ol Bob. It took all the effort in the world that evening to control my urge to run a mile. I understood the fact (as every male pointed out) that she was just something that would get us from A to B…

But geez, she was unattractive. And the first time I had to climb in the passenger seat my heart sank…

Her faux sheep skin seats and her carpeted dash made me gag… and all I could think of was the Aussie creepy crawlies imbedded in the fibres. Come to think of it I’m sure Horatio Cain would have had a field day!

Rebecca had earlier remarked that she had thought we were picking up the Holden Lumina that had been parked alongside Mitsi… And oh, how I had wished the same.

But we drove off… and just as I thought, well it wasn’t all THAT bad the Garmin bounced off the windscreen from all the vibrations of the rattling car!

It’s strange though… with all Mitsi’s quirks we sure have all grown to love her…

We’ve learnt that if we place a sheet of metal under her, the dripping oil won’t stain the driveway… we’ve adapted to the fact that the driver’s door can only be opened by reaching over from the passenger side and not the key. We’ve leant that she needs at least a litre of water every morning and at least a litre of oil every fortnight… Bern’s learnt how to handle her on chilly mornings when all she wants to do is stay put…

And as much as I could go on about Mitsi’s quirks, I have to mention that for the past five months she has got us from A to B… safe and sound…and best of all we no longer have Aussie tailgaters… because with one sturdy foot on the accelerator she blasts out the worst oil ridden puff of smoke imaginable.

That’s a gal Mitsi… you make us proud.

Mitsi will no longer be the family car, and will be sidelined as the new school and work runabout.

Bern’s been waiting ever so patiently for his probation period at work to end… Every evening drooling over 4x4’s and such like… Thankfully on Thursday, he managed to secure a loan….

From there it was all about securing the car.

We took a drive to the hills to test drive a real beauty… A 3.0 litre V6 Ford Escape that seemed just too good to be true… The seller was really cool, and we were both pretty relaxed until he mentioned that seeing as he was a policeman he’d better check Bern’s licence… GULP… poor Bern… I couldn’t help but think he must had felt like he was having to redo his licence all over again – only this time with a policeman directing him… you know, turn left in 300m, now right… easy here… to your left, clear this side… Without really any real negotiation, we both decided this car was the one. Friday, Bern secured the cheque and that afternoon we headed for the hills… only this time in a taxi (what? You didn’t expect me to drive Mitsi did you?)…

And being the talkative types that we are, we found out that our taxi driver happened to be the dad of one of Rebecca’s friends at school (luckily he didn’t know it was in fact our daughter that got sent to the principal for pushing his son). Anyway, to cut a long story short we arrived to exchange cheque and car… and then realised that in all my excitement I had left Bern’s mobile in the taxi… Had it had been in South Africa… we wouldn’t have even bothered trying to retrieve it. We tried to call Bern’s phone, and just as we were about to give up… we received a call, it was the driver… he had the phone, and he was back on his way to us.

Just goes to show, a little friendliness can never do any harm.

And in keeping with tradition, we’ve given the new addition a name… Homer. And he’s real hot! He unlocks doors and opens windows all by himself, and can even control his speed if instructed. Poor Mitsi, she must feel even more sheepish now, being parked next to such a brute!

Homer’s already done us proud… He collected our new little bundle of joy from the RSPCA today… and drove like a machine through wind and rain…

We left pretty early, and arrived 10 minutes before they opened. What we hadn’t anticipated were all the other people that had the same thoughts in mind. I couldn’t believe the queue of cars waiting to get in…

Having reported at reception we were guided to the cattery… and introduced to the kittens in line for adoption. Our second choice proved to be the kitten for us… a confident little soul with a very fluffy body that craved the affection of humans just as must as we craved the affection from him.

We’ve called him Cola… he’s been caught a few times today with his head in Bern’s coke glass…

And, as I’m typing this I can feel his little body cuddled by my side… Five months into our journey and I know we’ve done the right thing...

We’ve found that sweet spot… in the land of Oz…

1st May

When we moved into our rental 4 months ago, we were faced with an almighty mess. The garden was filled with unruly bougainvillea, the grass non-existent and the plants were like sticks protruding from the ground. I knew Australia would be dry, but didn’t expect the gardens to be dead.

Within a couple of weeks though, we had cleared the backyard mess and had filled plenty of garden refuse bins… I’d even ‘borrowed’ a couple of neighbours bins to lighten the load. Our arms and backs ached, but our souls smiled… until we stood back to admire our work.

And even though it appeared neater the lack of plants became an eyesore. And this is where I have to come clean… Before I started working, I used to be a plant thief.

That’s right… a plant thief.

Not a whole plant, mind you – more like a little slip off the plant.

I had a good thing going… I would drop Rebecca off in the mornings and then the bike (Scottie) and I would go on a plant search, up and down roads, keeping my eye out for a potential ‘goodie’…

Scottie and I made a good team... and we had a great thing going. Prowling the neighbourhood was fun, even if I happened to get a few stares… I never got caught.

We had a simple thing going; I would park Scottie and pretend to be looking at the chain or tyre, whilst very discreetly pulling on people’s plants. At times though, especially with the succulents, it proved to be somewhat difficult, especially when I just couldn’t get the darn branch to snap off… and the more I tugged… the more sinewy the branch tended to get.

I eventually upgraded to carrying a pair of scissors with me… it made my life easier, although in retrospect the scissors in hand must have been a dead giveaway.

I never carried a packet with me, that would truly have got me caught… Instead I used to drape the plants over Scottie’s handlebars whilst I made the getaway. If draping wasn’t an option, I made sure to wear a back-pocketed cycling shirt…

Bern used to question me on many occasion… “But honey what if you get caught”…

I’d had it all worked out… if someone was perhaps to come out of a house to inspect, I would have boldly walked up, confessed my wrongs and then proceed to explain that I was amazed by the fantastic fauna, and needed a sample to take to a local nursery for identification…

At one stage I even ‘helped’ out a fellow complex dweller… by ever so neatly trimming the edges along his pathway…

Looking back however, you probably find that if I had just knocked on the door, I would have met some friendly people that most likely would have dug up the whole plant for me and more.

That’s just the way Australians are… such a fantastic nation… with such kind, generous hearts.

Unfortunately, when work began… my garden started being neglected and the bare earth became even more apparent.

Luckily I had another plan, and this brings me to yet another confession.

I planted an instant garden. Much like instant lawn… but instant plants.

Headed off to the local ‘Cheap as Chips’ store and bought a bunch of grassy looking weeds, some leafy vines and a DIY garden archway.

And, I ‘m very proud to admit that my instant garden looks terrific! The plastic grassy looking weeds are planted (yes, I actually dug a hole and planted them), the DIY archway is assembled and the leafy vines neatly draped over.

We had the land lord over the other day… he remarked how good the garden was looking… his eye’s literally doubled in size when I mentioned that they were mostly plastic… wonder how he would have coped with the news that the real plants were in fact stolen goods from here there and everywhere…

What’s even better, is that we have started to have some real rain, so all my little slips are growing roots and starting to spread. Within a year, it will look awesome. Although I do have my concerns about how sun resistant my plastic plants really are…

They’re going to look a little dodgy if the Aussie sun starts bleaching them white!

It’s all good though… just like the Aussies.

Working for a charitable organization sure has opened my eyes to the generosity of the Australian nation…. They genuinely believe in a ‘fair go for all’. One remarkable woman really made an impression on me this week… our conversation went something like this….

‘Mrs Ford it’s Kirsten phoning from XYZ society’…

‘Ah, yes my dear, how are you’?

‘Fine thank you Mrs Ford, and how are you doing in this cold weather’...

‘Not so good my dear, but no need to complain, what can I do for you… cash is a little tight at the moment so I don’t know if I’ll be able to help’…

‘No worries, Mrs Ford… would you like me to rather leave it at that? It was just a call about our little lottery to raise funds, it’s drawn on the 18th June’…

‘Ah yes, well I couldn’t really say no, now could I… especially considering it’s my youngest son’s special birthday’…

‘Special birthday Mrs Ford?’

‘Yes my dear… it’s his seventieth… that’s my youngest. My eldest, well he’ll be 72 and a half this year’….

I was stunned… and as much as I was desperate to ask how old she was, I just knew it was inappropriate.

I took down her details, and thankfully accepted her $10 pledge for the lottery… I loved every minute of speaking to Mrs Ford, hearing her stories of how her husband fought in the war and just being able to soak in her wonderful spirit! For me she epitomizes the Australian nation…

Aussies do good things because they want to, not because they are forced to.

Aussies generally don’t harp on about their own misfortunes… I’ve had breast cancer and Victorian bushfire victims donate to the charity… and each time I am blown away…

Its people like Mrs Ford and those above that remind me about what’s important in life…

And that’s a fair go for all….

*Certain names have been changed… and not Scottie the bike, his name really is Scottie.

5th May 2009

I am such a fan of Australia… and everything Australian… and every day I become an even bigger fan of Australian footy. Adelaide Crows is our team of choice and slowly but surely we are getting stocked up on ‘crows’ supporter paraphernalia. Lunchboxes, scarves, beanies and more… I just can’t get enough!

We sit up late and watch the footy show, and we both participate in footy tipping at work. Unfortunately, we aren’t in the lead, and don’t stand an extremely good chance of winning… But it’s all good, and it’s heaps fun!

In Adelaide, we basically have two choices to support… Port Power or Adelaide Crows… of course everyone that knows anything will give you the run down that Port Supporters are a little less refined. And that’s coming straight from the mouths of Aussie’s.

On one particular Friday I happened to be wearing my Crows Scarf, and on greeting a fellow (Port Supporter) co-worker I was surprisingly shocked to notice how badly she snubbed me. I got a filthy look, up and down from a dear ‘sweet’ lady that normally greets me with a smile and a wave.

You can just imagine what happened the day tickets started selling for the Crows / Port Showdown… it was going to be big, and we had to go. AAMI Stadium was going to be electric, and we were going to be ready. Friends of ours, Des, Doug and their two boys joined us for some fun and really fantastic footy. Sure, we might not have been completely up to speed with the entire goings on… but it wasn’t all that hard to keep up with the loud screams from footy fans. Within minutes of the opening quarter Rebecca was in tears… her eyes the size of saucers… we clearly hadn’t prepared her well! It wasn’t long though before she was screaming support with the other 40 000 people there!

Our highlight for the evening was unfortunately not a win for the crows… BUT… a chick fight.

Right in the middle of the game, things got a little heated between some female supporters and from there things looked like they were going to escalate. Boyfriends started getting involved and it really looked like it was going to get nasty… Three hundred or so people stood watching, boys screaming behind me… ‘yeah, chick fight… that’s like SO HOT’….

And as I stood squeezing Bernard’s hand and grabbing for our belongings, I noticed the footy just carried on. With all the commotion no camera’s took any notice… and then the security and police stepped in… And just as quick as it had started, it was all over… And everyone sat down… and watched the footy.

Only in Australia, a major brawl starts, and within a minute it’s all over, like it never actually began.

One thing I keep reminding myself about, especially after the chilly footy evening was that I really should have paid more attention.

Those nights when Bern used to come home and read me the weather report… I REALLY should have paid more attention. Problem was, at that stage, Australia was a distant dream and most likely the TV in front of me proved far more interesting…

Sometimes, it amazes me how extreme the temperatures are here in Adelaide. A few months ago we were having temperatures well into the forties… and now… we haven’t dared reach 20 degrees Celsius this week.

The nights are freezing to say the least and what is really beginning to dawn on me, is that we are still many weeks away from the middle of Winter and I’m already sleeping in tracksuit pants and socks… and let’s not forget the micro fleece polar blanket, and the TWO duvets on top of that.

Overkill perhaps… but I’m really cold.

During the day, we get a few odd stares… whilst every Aussie is walking around in their shortsleeves… we’re all wrapped up in scarves and jerseys… Rebecca with furry ear warmers to compliment the groovy snow-look.

The bigger downfall to the cooler weather, is that I managed to catch a cold during the height of the swine flu terror. Of all times to catch a cold, my very first Aussie cold...

With paranoia at an all time high, I was sent home by my supervisor on Monday morning. I was a little confused until I saw my reflection in Mitsi’s window. I thought perhaps it might have been dust distorting the image, but the mirror confirmed the reasoning behind my supervisors decision.

I had puffy blueish circles under my eyes and to compliment the look, I had a rather gothic greyish skin tone… Arriving home I headed for bed, and that’s pretty much where I stayed for the next couple of days.

Tuesday morning, I phoned my supervisor… and in the croakiest closest to death voice I managed to muster…

‘I’m feeling a whole lot better, but not sure I’ll be in today… BUT I’ll definitely be in tomorrow’…

Wednesday morning, I phoned my supervisor… and in the croakiest closest to death voice I managed to muster…

‘I really, really am feeling much better today, but I’m not sure that I can get out of bed… BUT I’ll definitely be in tomorrow’…

She must have wondered who I was trying to convince that I was ok... Because I sure wasn’t doing a good job of convincing her.

It’s a hard thing being sick when you’re taking time off work. In the back of your mind you’re always wondering what people are actually thinking of you. Part of me was relieved knowing that they had seen me looking like ‘Wednesday’ from the Addams family… but the other part of me felt like a rotten scoundrel ‘pulling a sickie’…

It was only when Bern pointed out that I was having leave without pay, did I feel fully reassured in the fact that I could lie in bed without a worry in the world… or so I thought.

And then Wednesday happened. The routine already well established… barely managing to give Bern a kiss goodbye and barely managing to motivate Becca into action we pile into the car. Luckily, with Homer around I no longer have to ride my bike! Can you imagine having to ride on my bike, in the freezing cold with this awful ‘flu’ on board? Luckily for me, dear Mitsi’s heater works like a charm…

So what I do, and please don’t tell anyone…

Is I climb in the car with my unwashed, knotted hair and slept-in track pants, not bothering to put on any make up or looking good clothes and drive my daughter to school. After dropping her off, and parking the car… I dash from the cold and the rain and head for bed. Set the alarm, so I wake up with just enough time to pick her up without having to wait.

Only, on Wednesday… five minutes before the school bell sounds, I cannot get Mitsi to start… and I just can’t understand why… until I look down and realise… the lights… the lights are still on… and her battery is dead. Mitsi isn’t going anywhere.

And this is when the life of an immigrant gets a little much.

With no one to phone that can get to the school in five minutes – I’m left with just one choice.

And that’s to ride the bike… even in the spitting rain… and cold, cold wind…

Without the luxury of time to change, I had to head out with my unwashed, knotted hair and slept-in track pants with the first tracktop I manage to find… and slops.

Yip, I rode with slops, and the best part was, I had to roll up my one trackpant leg, to avoid the fabric getting caught in the chain… Go ahead, imagine it.

Nothing matches… expect my attitude and those dark heavy clouds.

We got to school and back… perfectly ok. Perhaps it was the fresh air that helped and I was back at work the next day. I was almost dreading going back… felt like I had to work on those work friendships all over again… Until I walked in, and someone turned and said…

‘It’s good to have you back… we really missed your smile’…

Like I said… I’m a big fan of Australia… and everything Australian!

19th May 2009

In years to come Rebecca will sit down and read this, hopefully gaining a better understanding of why we did what we did. Why we flew 9 500km’s from Durban to Adelaide with no plan on ever returning.

Why we took her from her only family, friends and home she knew.

We know, and so does our family … but I hope one day she will know… and I hope, understand.

Life as an immigrant is a challenging self discovery, and I love what I’m learning along the way.

What I am learning, is that I made a huge mistake in judging two of the most important people in my working life. Both Molly and Sarah, the tracksuit-wearing-loud mouth-talking-attitude walking gals have become my very best working friends. We all had a good laugh the other day when they both walked in, wearing the same tracksuit pants… No mistaking that pink embroidery scrawled across the rear… I considered asking them where they got them from, but quickly decided against it… I didn’t want to join in the ‘Sexy bum’ brigade.

Molly is still, by far, the roughest ‘lady’ I have ever met. She still burps like a convict and talks like a trooper, but she has a heart of gold. A couple of chilly mornings ago, I couldn’t get Mitsi started… of course, when I arrived at work I had a real moan about it all. It was only that afternoon, with Molly talking to me at the car, did I realise she had been waiting for Mitsi to kick over. She had stayed five minutes after work, to help a friend pack up and then to wait just to confirm that I was able to get myself home; and more importantly to pick Becca up from school.

What I love about Molly is that she isn’t ashamed of what she is… and the best part about Molly, is that she is, well… just Molly.

She doesn’t have it easy… she’s a single mum raising three boys… one of whom the other day, she told us quite frankly that “she would like to take him out”… and that’s not take out to a footy game either, that’s “take out” of the equation completely. She’s from a rather broken home and has siblings all over Australia, some of which want nothing to do with her. Her mother, in Molly’s words, is a “bit of a tramp” and as far as I can recall she doesn’t have anything to do with her father. Every day we find out a little more about Molly’s life… and it’s never dull!

A couple of weeks back Molly received a disturbing call from her brother… he was released from prison and needed his car back from her!

‘Blimmen hell’, Molly says… ‘me brother’s out… and now I don’t have a damn car to use’!

No concern or elation whatsoever that he was finally out of jail… just pretty bummed that she would be without transport to work again! Poor Molly… the next day she didn’t arrive to work… It turned out her brother was driving her in that day, and the cops pulled them over for a defect with the vehicle… I think by that stage, work would have been the last thing on her mind. Like I said, Molly doesn’t have it easy.

But, amazingly she always has a smile… especially when she came in last week to tell us that she would finally be able to move her and her boys out of the caravan into a ‘proper’ rental. Sarah and I could only smile with joy hearing the news, Molly deserves every little bit of happiness she can get!

Call centre central wouldn’t be the same without Molly, just as it wouldn’t be the same without Sarah…

Sarah has welcomed me right into her life, and spares no detail when it comes to her personal matters. From the ex-boyfriends to her lesbian daughter, I feel like I know them all… Well, I guess I almost do! I met a whole bunch of them at her non-lesbian daughter’s fourth birthday. That was interesting, to say the least.

Driving to the birthday party, Bern and I were going through all the possible excuses of how we could get out of going… and so we carried on, scenario after scenario until the Garmin loudly and abruptly announced that we had arrived at our destination… and there was no turning back when Sarah caught a glimpse of the bewildered South Africans standing like rejects at her garage door. I went in straight for a kiss on the cheek… realised that perhaps the added hug was a tad too much… and felt even more awkward than I had before. The place was pretty full, and it wasn’t with her friends… it was… gulp… the family. Don’t you hate it when you arrive and everyone has taken every available chair and you’re the only ones left standing… and then you stand, like plebs getting introduced to … mum, son, sister, cousin Anne… brother… boyfriend… ex boyfriend… and you can’t remember the last name let alone the first.

Nothing worse in my opinion… especially because no one really greeted us, we just got the look... you know, the once over up and down…

Within minutes though, other’s started arriving, and the glare was taken off our faces to the newer ones… and within minutes after that we formed a standing group that comprised of friends that managed to crack the nod, but didn’t quite fit into the seated family category.

It was strange, because even with all our “early escape excuse” plans we ended up staying for a good few hours. The only real reason we had to eventually leave was because we had planned to watch the Adelaide Crows play footy at the local stadium. I genuinely had good time and even though I felt completely out of place, it didn’t take me long to share a laugh or two with the Aussie company. Bern even ended up having lengthy conversations with Sarah’s ex, Greg.

Greg showed Bern his veggie garden and was kind enough to let my darling husband sample a tasty jalapeño chilli. Initially Bern didn’t realise was he was getting himself into, and it was only after he casually remarked ‘it tastes like a capsicum’ that his face began to turn a brighter shade of red… and the tears began to flow… I could see he was sucking it up… Greg had a good chuckle though, and Sarah and I had a good giggle.  I still can’t believe he ate the whole thing, and survived.

Bern even had a tour of the garden and Greg’s shed. The shed was initially supposed to be a hydroponic growing station. Growing what, we didn’t want to out rightly ask but the project was soon shelved when Greg’s friend needed a place to stay, and Greg ended turning the garden shed into a garden bedroom…

Aussies continue to amaze me; they always go the extra mile for a mate… And everything really is ‘no worries’…

We’re meeting even more of Sarah’s cousins , friends, ex’s and kids on the 9th of June… She’s invited us to join her and forty others to celebrate her fortieth birthday… It should be good, and perhaps just as entertaining… But I’m sure we’ll still be planning our “early escape excuse” plan…

I really need to learn the Aussie way and embrace the ‘no worries mate’philosophy…

Learn to live and stress just a little less…

19th May 2009

If there’s one thing that used to irritate me, it was those downright annoying people calling from call centre’s, wasting my name, costing me cash and putting themselves first.

You know those people I’m talking about…

Hello… may I speak to the lady or gentleman of the house?

Hello… is this Mrs or Mr. so and so?…

Hello, this is so and so calling from such and such a company…

Ugh…

Working at call centre central feels like I’ve been reincarnated and brought back to a life whereby I’m paying back for all the horror I’ve inflicted on those poor Call centre people in my past life. Take for example; a few months back I received a call from a sickly sweet lady that wanted to sell me a cell phone contract of some sort. The whole conversation revolved around the fact that if I took out this contract I would be in line to win about R10, 000 cash.

What I did to this poor woman was and still is, totally inexcusable.

After her opening rehearsed line I shrieked in her ear with absolute delight that I had in fact won the cash and questioned her as to when I could expect my prize… And the more this poor woman tried to explain that I only had a CHANCE at winning the ten thousand, the more I shrieked back in her ear…. And so it went on for about five minutes, until it came to her closing line… Would you like to take out the contract… and I said back in the calmest tone… Sorry love, I’m off to Australia.

Like I said, its payback time and now I’m on the other end of the phonecall…

Hello, this is now Kirsten the call centre operator, phoning from XYZ society, can I speak to Mr. or Mrs so and so?

It’s really bad… really, really bad…

Firstly, how do you pronounce surnames like …

Zichy-Woinarski , Wyselaskie and SemcZuk.

Worst are the ones that I would normally pronounce with Afrikaans in mind…

Wanganeen, Lange, Langman, Van de Welde…

Secondly there are certain names that get me giggling…

Hello, may I speak to Mr. Snodgrass, Mr. Kock, Mrs Lilliecrap, Mr Sickerdick, Mrs Virgin, Mr Suck… it’s awful, and as much as I know that these are people’s names and not some sick joke, I can’t help myself. I mean can you just imagine if your name was Andrew, and you were blessed with some of those names…

A. Kock…

A. Virgin…

What about having the name of Ian…

I. Suck…

I really could go on, but perhaps the amusement is just the childlike side of me, making something funny that perhaps isn’t really at all!

I still hear all the excuses, and yet I battle to understand people’s logic. Please people if you get a phonecall from a call centre, be upfront and honest. Don’t be rude and stop the lying, for my sake please! There’s nothing worse than being on the end of a half baked story…

‘Sorry I can’t help, I’ve just, this minute given to the blind’…

(What? I’ve been talking to you for about 5 minutes?)

‘Sorry, I can’t help; I’ve got heaps of tickets sitting in front of me already’

(Ah yeah, and what charities are those for mate?)

‘Sorry I can’t help, I’ve just been at the dentist’

(What’s that got to do with me, do you want a ticket or not?)

But then, sometimes as call centre operator we do get our own back, especially to these responses…

‘Sorry, I won’t help THIS time, I ALWAYS do, but just not THIS time’…

(Ah, that’s strange, my records show you haven’t been a supporter for over three years now, are you SURE you don’t want to buy ticket)?

‘Ah, no sorry I actually brought a ticket from your charity last week’

(mmm…. That’s really odd Sir, as I am the only one here scheduled to call you… what colour was that ticket you bought)?

‘Not today love, maybe next time’…

(Sure, I’ll give you a call tomorrow and see how you’re doing)

‘I don’t buy lottery tickets over the phone’

(Are you sure that’s you Mrs Jones, my records show you bought tickets, over the phone, back in 2006, 2007 AND 2008)…

 

So now you’re probably thinking there goes that irritating call centre girl… and it’s true I know… but I just wish people were more honest. I love it when I get someone on the phone that says … ‘Thanks for the call, but I really am not interested’…

Instead, I phone people and even though I’ve heard the husband shouting in the background, his wife proceeds to tell me he’s not at home. Or better yet, you phone the house and ask to speak to Jim, and when Jim gets to the phone he says I’ve got the wrong number.

The best has to be those people who don’t have the decency to say ‘Thanks, but no thanks’, and slam the phone down on you mid sentence… grrr… I wish I could phone them back.

Phone them back and say, this is my job… this is how I earn money for a living… I do not choose to call and harass you but this is what my boss has told me to do, and until you give me a decent enough answer, I will harass you every day all day long…

Alas… I can’t, and when the phone gets slammed down in my ear, I grit my teeth and start dialing the next one, and the next one… and the next one.

I must say that I have spoken to the most wonderful people over the phone. People that have treated me with respect and kindness, people that have not only given their money but their compassion too.

I am learning so much about life working in the call centre.

And seeing all our patients in wheelchairs and walkers, young and old, I know that in my small way sticking this out is making me a stronger and wiser person. If I can earn money, and make a difference in someone’s life, well then Australia… brace yourselves… There’s a friendly South African call centre girl that’s probably got your number, and she’s going to be dialing it.

You might not have money to give, but do give her two minutes of your time… because you’ll be guaranteed to have laugh and a smile and of course ALWAYS thanked for your time…

29th May 2009

It’s been an emotionally trying week to say the least. We’ve launched our new $50 fundraising drive and spent the entire week cold calling… 5 hours a day of utter rejection and lame excuses. I’ve heard them all, and I can’t even bring myself to repeat them.

On top of it all, I’ve really been battling to meet my required sales target and feelings of doubt quickly crept in. With so much talk of worldwide recession I had a heavy heart and decided to approach my supervisor, Shelley.

Shelley assured me, that all was ok and that she was suitably impressed with my performance thus far.

I tried to relax but even after exceeding my required quota, I just couldn’t shake the sinking feeling. Something, just didn’t feel right.

I now know why.

Today started out like any other day…Calls, lunch and then more calls. None of us had realised what was going on and by the time I looked up 3 minutes before shift ended, I saw Molly dashing for the door.

And as I was about to question why she was leaving 5 minutes early, I saw the tears in her eyes as she shouted back… ‘See ya girls… won’t be back… I just got the sack’

I didn’t need anyone to explain… they’d got rid of Molly, my dear unfortunate friend Molly.

And within minutes, I realised that two other ladies (Lyn and Lynne) were packing their bags too…

I was shattered…. And didn’t want to move from my desk.

I was the immigrant… and they were the Aussies. Would they wonder why it hadn’t been me, instead of them? I felt ashamed to say the least and discreetly packed away.

When I looked up I saw all my friends, and realised that I was just as much part of the team as they were and sheepishly went to say my farewell’s to the two Lyn/ne’s…It was awful… but not as heartbreaking as when I later found Molly sobbing in her car.

Sarah and I felt gutted, knowing that the theory of last in, first out hadn’t applied in the company’s decision. Nothing we could say made it any better. We just all stood there crying.

Partly because I knew my head might be on the chopping block next, but mostly because I felt like I was losing a friend. One of my first Aussie friends…  My crazy friend Molly.

We all have that crazy friend… you know the one that always has a good joke, and the one that always has a smile… The one that calls your mobile from the call centre phone, and then promptly asks why you’re answering your mobile during office hours.

The one that shoots back tequila, swears like a trooper and has a heart as big as ever…. I’m really going to miss Molly. And I’m certainly not looking forward to Monday at the office.

Sarah sent me a text after work that read ‘Don’t stress too much mate, us three will be friends forever’…

June 10th is the end of my probation period… June 11th is Bern’s birthday… I’m hoping we’ll be celebrating two things on June the 11th… A birthday and keeping my job…

I am a firm believer that if one door closes, another one opens. I love new beginnings, and I’ll embrace whatever comes my way… Good or bad, I’ll make it work for me. Just as Bern has made it work for him. April and May have been hard for his company too. A lack of orders forced his employer to reduce working hours… and retrench six of Bern’s co-workers.

He too, felt like the immigrant… and he too escaped the last in, first out theory.

It helps to know that we’ve both experienced it and it really isn’t easy. It does weigh heavy on the heart, but it’s important for us to remember that life does go on.

One door closes and another opens.

And one door that is getting closed far too often is my front door! We’ve been spending way too much time exploring great South Australia that our house looks like it has been hit by a whirlwind and then blasted by a pound of dynamite. We have piles and piles of washing to do, dishes to wash, carpets to vacuum and floors to mop… But the great South Australian roads have been calling our names…

And we have been returning their calls! Autumn is well and truly here with spectacular sprinklings of yellow, red and orange… it’s just awesome.

So awesome, that we’re already planning or next drive….

Now if I could just get all that washing done…

6th June 2009

So we’re standing in the middle of JB Hi-Fi this morning staring at some spectacular wide screen TV and enjoying the awesome sound blasting through the surround sound, when a keen salesman heads our way.

‘Hiya, how-are-ya-going… canna-help-with-anything’? he says.

‘Just browsing thanks, we’ll give you a shout if we need anything’… Bern replied with the distinct South African accent.

Surprisingly, the salesman walked away with a smile on his face. Had I perhaps missed something?

And as we stood, still admiring the awesomeness of the sound system, the salesman proceeded to skip through a couple of songs… and stop on one, rather recognizable tune.

Africa, by Toto.

That familiar sound sent shivers… and those well-known words took me back to a place far, far away.

…’ Its gonna take a lot to drag me away from you
Theres nothing that a hundred men or more could ever do
I bless the rains down in Africa
Gonna take some time to do the things we never had’…

And for a couple of seconds, I felt a kind of nostalgia for Africa, that song has a wonderful way of evoking all the good happy feelings… Castle ad’s with mates and boerewors… biltong and braai’s… world cup rugby and championship times. I stood there…

… and stood there… and stood there.

I eventually managed to pull myself away, and have a good laugh about it with Bern… but it’s left me thinking about Africa for most of the day.

Africa and all its beauty.

Africa and all it has to offer… the mountains and the sea… the flora and the fauna…

The familiar faces and familiar places.

The thing is though, Africa… is a place. It is not who I was or who I am.

My ancestors were not African… and my descendants might not be Australian…

All I know is that I was born and raised in a beautiful country but will be able to raise my own child in a country that can offer more than beauty alone.

I might have deep roots in Africa, but in Australia my ‘roots’ are spreading far and wide.

I no longer look at a Eucalyptus or Gum tree like it’s an alien invader. I see them as majestic proud trees with stories to tell. The land is not flat and dry. There are so many surprises in this beautiful place.

Being able to watch a sunset in complete safety, ride a bike in the city, catch a bus, walk alone… are just some of the many reasons I am happy and privileged to call this place home.

19 June 2009

The wonderful part about being a parent is that you get to watch some fantastic kiddy movies. A couple of year’s back I became the number one fan of a little bird. He goes by the name of Chicken Little.

Poor Chicken Little… his self esteem is pretty much nonexistent and his poor emotions are continually tried and tested. However, with any good story – there’s something to learn.

What I learnt, thanks to Mr C. Little… is that “Today, is a new day”. If he can make it… well then, so can I.

No matter what yesterday brought into my life, I continually have to focus that today, this day, right here and right now is the start of something new.

And I love new beginnings.

The good news is that I managed to make it through my probation period. The bad news is that if the newly appointed General Manager (the CEO got the boot) doesn’t get the company back into shape within 12 weeks, they close the doors and we ALL lose our jobs.

12 weeks.

60 working days to cut the fat.

It’s like I’m in the reality show ‘Survivor’… only instead of 30 odd days to survive, I’ve got 60 days until my’ tribe has spoken’. The worst part is that this kind of thing brings out the worst in people.

Whispering and gossiping have become the norm. Outbursts in the call centre have become somewhat frequent… and it’s left me feeling a little down. It’s hard to wake up on a cold winter’s morning when you know what kind of day is going to be facing you. It’s hard to know that no matter how hard you try… unless the team pulls together, you’re fighting a losing battle. It’s hard being one of the only two casual staff members.

It’s even worse when you’re the immigrant, and the other’s an Aussie.

What I have failed to mention though, is that during times like these it does also bring out the best in other people. Those who are willing to go the extra mile.

Those that don’t bother with the small picture, the gossiping, the whining, the nagging… those that know, just like I do, that today is a new day.

To go to work and get the job done. To go to work and fight the fight. To convince people that by buying a ticket in some lottery, is actually making a difference to thousands of people.

The strange thing is that when people used to buy tickets, I always thought about the clients we were raising funds for, and the good it was doing. Now, when they buy a ticket I say a very sincere thank you… because they aren’t just helping strangers… they’re helping me. They’re keeping my tribe from extinguishing my flame just that little bit longer.

Weekends have been welcomed with open arms. Weekends with my wonderful family and that gorgeous car, Homer. Homer is a great change from dear ol’ Mitsi.

She nearly got left on the side of the road two weeks back. Couldn’t figure out what was going on with her… and after I stalled for the fifth time one afternoon. I decided I’d had enough. I stopped on the side of a road and debated whether walking would get me home quicker. How badly I wanted get out the car and kick her door in… even further than some stranger kindly did a few months back when we were still in council housing. How badly I wanted to find a match and flick it her way. I’d had enough!

Enough of stalling, enough of a car that could only get up to 25kph (no matter how flat the foot was on the accelerator), enough of the car that left a bigger carbon footprint than China alone. My poor husband must have felt desperate when I called him and told him of my troubles. Any man knows that they’re only happy when the wife is happy… and I was miserable!

He came home that evening appearing as a knight in shining lumo safety apparel with a box full of goodies, four new spark plugs and a spark plug spanner. And with some kind of magic, he turned my misfiring pumpkin back into my coach. I knew with one little rev of the engine, she was going to be alright. Life was going to be ok… and I wouldn’t have to ride my bike.

Until a couple days later, leaving late for work I discovered much to my annoyance I had left her keys in Homer’s cubbyhole. And Homer was sitting 30 minutes away with Bernard at work. And just as I was applying necessary headgear to ride to work, my knight in shining lumo safety apparel appeared again. This time with keys in hand.

I am a lucky girl… but didn’t feel as lucky when I woke the next morning to find the dear Mitsi with a flat back tyre… I had visions of flicking that match again. I rode to work that day.

She’s doing ok, the poor ol’ gal… but her latest stunt is really bothersome. She’s decided that a working speedometer is no longer necessary. So, every morning I have to judge my speed on those around me… I just try not judge my speed against any local hoons.

Thankfully, Homer has been doing us proud and has managed to take us to the most extraordinary places. The funny thing about Adelaide is that wherever you drive, somehow… you always manage to come right back to where you first started. Or just when you think you’re finally completely lost, you go past that same landmark you went past an hour and a half earlier… and then an hour later, you pass that same silly landmark again! We’ve visited the world’s largest rocking horse, been to the whispering wall, walked the Botanic gardens, viewed paddleboats and ferry’s, we’ve spent time in the hills and at the beach… and yet there is still so much more to do…

But, not until we’ve sorted out the house for the 3 month routine inspection. This is when our friendly rental agent comes to check that we have been looking after the place, and not treating it like pigs in a sty. There are a couple of things we need to sort out. First on the list is that bright yellow spray paint that managed to miss the newspaper and land on the courtyard floor. Second, would probably be to lay all the newly bought rugs over those stained mint green carpets.

The joy of a pale carpet and an eight year old.

Luckily, the weather hasn’t been spectacular, and it was easier than normal to put off more driving for a better weathered weekend. We get given an extensive list of what needs to be done. Cobwebs and corners… it’s all in the list!

But tomorrow will be a new day, and we’ll get it all done then.

Till the next time, take care.

17 July 2009

Just when I thought I was settled and into the ‘swing of things’ I decide to embark on yet another new beginning. A couple of years back I was this fit and healthy spin instructor… a couple of years on I’ve managed to convince everyone around me that “emigration made me fat”… the worst part is, is that I’ve even managed to convince myself!

So along with procrastination by my side, I decide to phone the gym… only as you may well know, you never get a straight answer about gym fees, until you actually visit with a sales consultant that manages to give you the “best deal you’re ever going to get”! And so, after follow up phone call after follow up phonecall from the hyper sales lady, Bern managed to get me into the car and drag me into the gym… The worst part though, is that I signed a contract… and that’s probably about when my ‘because I’m fat’ excuses flew out the window. I was even more amazed that even though we didn’t have our debiting details to give to the gym, they happily phoned the bank on our behalf and got the details they needed. There was just no way of getting out of it!

A tour of the gym proved to be something stressful… All these lean and toned bodies seemed to have their eyes fixed on a goal that I had long forgotten. If I had felt stressed before, well then after the tour I needed to find some comfort carbs to ease my sickened soul!

I shouldn’t have looked into the spinning room… especially when I saw “Amazon Annie” on the instructor’s bike. With arms the size of an ape and a glare to make any army instructor proud I soon realised that the loud thumping wasn’t the music at all, but instead my loudly beating heart.

This was not going to be easy… and it wasn’t proving easy for Bern to get me back to the gym.

It was on a Monday that I decided I would go… decided that I would pluck up the courage and face one of the “Amazon Annie’s”.

 With temp’s below 10 degrees, it wasn’t an easy task pulling on cycling gear and in true feminine style, I decided to have a wobble about what to wear.

The pants were easy. I had no choice but to wear cycling shorts… I knew I was going to need that padded comfort on my rear… the only problem was, well… everything else!

What top… a cycling one? Nah… perhaps I might look like one of those fashion victims trying to “fit in”

mmm… what about a little T-Shirt? Nah… after my third attempt I realised that any shirt was going to show my weakness for carbs and calorie consumption. And then Bern, did the worst thing imaginable… right in the middle of my ‘what to wear wobbles’ he suggested, that perhaps I wear one of his shirts?!

What!!! Was he insane!!! I mean, how could he expect me to go out in public wearing a big baggy shirt…

Until, well… I tried it on… and noticed that it neatly covered a few weaknesses for calorie consumption!

It’s quite funny really how much I worked myself up about this first gym episode. Much like starting a new job and learning the new culture, gyms as many of you know seem to breed a culture of their own. I was used to the gyms back in Durban. I was the instructor, I worried about no one and no one worried me. I do however remember when people joined me for one of my spinning classes… I could always spot the newbie… They were likely to be one of the first in, and the first out… usually they headed straight for the back of the class with a face a shade lighter than normal…they also had a tendency to stare blankly whilst sucking every drop out of a water bottle before the class had even begun… well before they really needed any real hydration!

Twenty minutes before my first Australian spinning class my wobble began to worsen.

Do I wear cycling shoes that clip in? Can I walk around the gym in cycling shoes? If I take a bag where will I put it? Should I take a bag even? What if I wear my takkies and just take my cycling shoes? Then I need a bag… But do I then have to use a locker?

And before I knew it I had arrived at the torture house wearing my takkies and carrying no baggage…

Swiped in at the front desk and headed up stairs. The door was closed… I pushed it open.

Everyone looked at me, and I headed for the back of the room in true newbie style.

Another newbie took a seat next to me; I could spot her from a mile. My guess was confirmed when the instructor asked if anyone was there for the first time. Both of us stuck our hands in the air...

When the music began, I realised I felt at home… it was going to be ok. New country, new gym… it was all good… and most importantly, I was going to be ok!

Or so I thought…

The problem is, and I know I’ve mentioned it before… but it is really chilly here in Adelaide.

Winter in Adelaide from a Durbanite’s perspective could best be summed up in the following three words…. Freezing, Frosty and Flippencold. Needless to say, getting home from work and getting cosy by a heater doesn’t bode well for the gym session that should be taking place…. Rather a tracksuit, and scarf, and gloves, and jacket, and blanket with heater are so much more inviting!

We still manage to get out and do all our exploring around our beautiful new country on the weekends, but that’s done from the comfort of a nicely heated car. I am always amazed at the beauty this country has to offer. I had somehow imagined a rather arid looking country, with a flat boring landscape.

I have been proven terribly wrong time and time again, and every time I think I have seen the most beautiful place, I get surprised yet again!

Our exploring has taken on a fairly new dimension… no longer will we only be exploring land, but we’ll be exploring the rivers and sea too!! A few weeks back, we made an exciting purchase of two kayaks. Everyone of course asking why buy kayaks in Winter?  Simple of course, no one wants to paddle in Winter… makes for the best bargain around! The only problem is, is that we really want to get out and kayak… we’re desperate! So for the past few weekends, we’ve searched high and low for appropriate winter paddling apparel. The cheap winter kayak bargain has turned out to be a rather pricey buy!

But, in a way it makes Winter a little more bearable….

A little less cold, and a lot more inviting.

Till the next time… take care!

3rd August 2009

It’s quite an experience when you realise for the first time that Australia is your home.

Australia is no longer that place where you wanted to be, but instead that place where you are…. And everything around you just seems so normal… and just so right.

Life has become normal again… routine has kicked in and certain tasks have become tedious… but this excites me… because it means that I am settling.