Yesterday was 106 degrees F. Today is 108. Almost 100 degrees warmer than home in New York, at the moment.
Zach and I made the mistake of trying to walk home from the inner part of town (Shepparton, in the state of Victoria) too late in the morning. If you’re not hidden in the air conditioning by 1 pm, expect to sacrifice yourself to the sun. I’ve never felt such unrelenting rays. We were spoiled with a gradual temperature change when we first arrived in Melbourne in the beginning of Jan, an unusual coolness of about 70 degrees F welcomed us with a swift breeze. The temperature climbed gradually and spiked a few times up to about 90 F, but two days of triple digits had me cooked. I dragged my feet on the walk only about 20 minutes in and felt that kind of exhaustion you feel when you’re laying on the beach. You know that feeling, when you’re laying on your towel in the heat of the day, and the sun starts to sway you into this delightful but dangerous slumber? Your eyes start to close and you feel your body sink into the sand, and before you know it, delirium works it’s spell on you.
This is how I felt as we were strolling along, I wanted to fall asleep while standing up. My mind was becoming groggy and delirious, and my water canteen was empty. Still another 40 minutes to go, at least. I tried to watch the trail for snakes, as I’ve been warned to always look ahead on the path for them. Yet another part of a new lifestyle to adapt to; a big step up from watching out for threatening bees back at home. Zach offered to carry me back the rest of the way but whatever remaining pride and determination I had left wouldn’t allow it. Finally, a miracle. A set of sprinklers on in someone’s backyard during the heat of the day (most Australians know to water their lawns and plants in the early morning or late evening, so this was a fluke). I walked over without hesitation and stood in the glorious refuge, clothes and all. The home owner walked out of his shed and looked over at us with a smile, Zach waving and saying, “Hey mate, she’s just coolin’ off if you don’t mind” he responded with a “Yeah no worries go for it!” Now I know what flowers feel like when they wilt.
So if you haven’t gotten the idea already, this is a country that tests your resiliency. The scorching summer heat, the cohabitation with insects the size of dinner plates as well as seven out of ten of the most venomous snakes in the world make for a tough population of people. Additionally, let’s not forget the potential wrath of the unique landscape: dust storms, bush fires, flash floods, and the occasional rare event where it “rains spiders” (check out raining spiders in Goulburn, 2015- crazy stuff). The “rough around the edges” trait seems to be inherent in most Australians, at least out in the bushland, but it’s strangely admirable. After all, they did start out as prisoners and convicts that the U.K. had to put somewhere, only a little over 200 years ago.
I’ve been fortunate enough to be getting quite the local experience within my first month in this wonderfully bizarre country. I’ll admit, the first few weeks were a little challenging- not because of the heat, or the constant watch for deadly creatures, but because of the language, as I’m convinced true Australian slang should be its own. In some ways, it was more difficult to adapt to than the harsh sounding Deutsche lingo, simply because Australians use many of the same words that we would in the states, but with completely different meanings. My first encounter with these colloquialisms happened while listening in on a conversation between Zach’s mom Nicole and her fiancé Andrew- it was only my second day there. Andrew made a reference about Nicole having “the shits.” The statement went something along the lines of this: “Ah yeah, Nicc’s juss got the shits that’s all, she’s dirty on me [..].” “How unfortunate, poor Nicole” I thought to myself, under the impression that she was having stomach issues. Clarification was made when I expressed some form of condolence towards her situation- when they realized what I was thinking. Apparently, having the shits can be used literally, but many Aussies use it as a term to describe being grumpy. “Dirty on me (on the world/at a friend/etc.)” means to be annoyed with an individual person or thing. Over the next couple of days, I tried to keep track of a variety of strange words and phrases that sounded foreign and incomprehensible, most of them coming from Andrew.
Andrew was born and raised in the small city of Shepparton, and he’s a real product of the bushland, so his speech was particularly difficult for me to understand. He’s killed about 45 venomous snakes on his property in 15 years’ time, he says “me” instead of “my” most of the time, and he’s told me countless wild stories about his life; ranging from that time he saw his life flash before his eyes because he accidentally drank petrol, to carrying his motorbike across rivers almost as deep as himself to push on through the bush. Andrew is a bit of a paradox in that despite his humble and small-town upbringing, his thoughts are vast and ambitious. He tells me he had the idea to bottle water out of the tap back in the 1970’s, when bottled water didn’t exist in Australia. His friends thought he was crazy and didn’t want to invest, so he moved on. He brings this story up quite frequently when on the topic of regret, that and the petrol memory.
I was very appreciative and excited when Andrew presented me with my very own “Australian Slang Dictionary.” I had been trying to keep a list of terms on my own, but I was losing track quickly (Australians speak probably as fast as New Yorkers do, but minimize their verbiage as much as possible, making two or three words into one). On the first page of my dictionary, is an explanation for this unusual conversational art. The theory goes: “Due to the high density of flies within the continent, Australians have developed a highly effective method of speaking that involves opening the mouth just enough to speak the words while minimizing the risk of flies intruding into the mouth cavity.” I must admit, this could have some validity to it. The flies are horrendous here. Persistent, aggressive little monsters- they go right for your mouth or your ear, which I don’t understand because Australia is such a spacious country with plenty of other places to be a fly. It’s not that they bite, they just sit on you and regurgitate. Flies really make me “chuck a spaz” which apparently translates to “angry.” I find this book extremely entertaining and fascinating. I even tested the accuracy of it by quizzing several locals on certain terms that I thought couldn’t be real. To my surprise, they all passed with being nearly 100% correct on almost everything. To give a perspective, here are some particularly funny/and or unusual examples: *Warning: Minor Vulgarity*
A sparrow’s fart: at dawn “Gotta get up at sparrow’s fart.”
Bob’s your uncle: Everything is fine, there you go
Spewin: Fuming, angry
Built like a streak of pelican shit: Very tall and thin
Chockablock: Full “Yeah the place was chockablock!”
Couldn’t pull a greasy stick out of a dog’s arse: incompetent
Like a one-armed taxi driver with crabs: very busy
Fair Dinkum: Really? No kidding!
Not seen in donkey’s years: Haven’t seen someone in a long time
Ridgey-Didge: Original, authentic
Shoot a fairy: To fart “he’s just shot a fairy.”
Mind you, I haven’t had the pleasure to hear all these phrases used in actual conversation. Though many Aussies know exactly what they mean, some of them are rarely used. Still, entertaining nonetheless. What a wonderful place to study linguistics.
"I love the way the clouds make the sky look" Nicole says in a soft spoken voice while we drive through vast fields of brassy vegetation. "They just add so much dimension to the sky" she says in a tone that suggests her mind may be dreaming of other things, rather than heading to the office for another busy day. Perhaps she's thinking of that interior design business she wants to open one day, or those wonderful detox days in Thailand. She's right though, the clouds in this sky are notable. They remind me of the wallpaper in Andy's room from Toy Story- flat on the bottom, perfectly fluffy on the top. Nicole reminds me of an old friend I used to have, she moved to the West Coast of the states. We both loved peonies, going into crystal shops and picking out pretty stones, and drinking wine while watching funny movies. Nicole is graceful, elegant, and has an appreciation for the beautiful things in life. She's intuitive and can read a person like a book, from what I've observed. She often rolls her eyes at Andy in his moments of boyish humor and charm, but it's in an endearing way. They compliment each other well, a Bonnie and Clyde kind of pair.
Being fifteen hours ahead from New York has left me feeling distanced literally and figuratively. Sometimes, it's hard to comprehend that I'm living my life on a different date than everyone back at home. It's easy for communication to fall through the cracks, especially since the town of Shepparton seems to be a little behind on the WIFI band wagon. I wanted to file my taxes in a café, so I called a few places just to verify that they had a wireless network I could connect to. All four places I called told me no. What a difference from home! Then I thought about it in a different way, it’s actually pretty cool that most places don’t have WIFI here. When we all go out for coffee in the morning, we speak to each other, and the place is humming with conversation around us. People sit and read the paper. I don’t see many people on their phones, at least when they’re with others. It’s been a nice change in pace.
People can usually tell that I'm not from here as soon as I order coffee. Not that I pronounce coffee "cawfee" so much, but the first few times I kept receiving these decorative arrangements of ice cream and whipped cream on top, with coffee. Hey, I drank it anyway and it was beautiful, aside from the fact that my body doesn't react too well to milk. Now, I specifically ask for cubes. Maybe I'll start a trend.
Although I try to blend in by saying things such as: "no worries mate" and "hey how ya goin'?" it sounds kind of funny and choppy in my accent. I was really pleased when these girls at the makeup salon found out where I was from and they told me my accent was exotic and elegant. I couldn't believe I was hearing this from Australians! Most people in the states love the Aussie accent. I think the best reaction about me being from New York came from this little old lady in an antique store up in Violet Town. Violet town is a tiny little place north of Shepparton by about 40 minutes, the population is about 1500 (more than I even expected), and you could probably hold your breath while driving 5 mph down the full extent of the main street and back no problem. Zach and I stopped in this antique shop"Violet Town Antiques" because it looked rustic and withered in a beautiful way. The little old lady behind the counter inside matched the description of the exterior.
"Ya from New York? Wow I never been the the states in me life" she paused. "I'd be afraid I'd get shot" she chuckled, shaking her head. That caught my interest. "Why's that? The news?" I asked her, while sniffing a perfume from the 1950's. "Well yeah, that's all ya see these days! Have ya ever had a gun pointed at ya?" she looked at me curiously. I felt like asking her if she had ever been bitten by a snake. I smirked as I told her no, I've been fortunate enough to not have that happen, but yes, unfortunately the gun violence is as bad as it seems. It was an interesting conversation to be having in the middle of nowhere, Australia. More so, it was an unfortunate conversation considering the seriousness of gun issues in the states has reached even the tiny, simple towns in some of the more quiet places of the world.
There is something both beautiful and lonely about the seemingly endless roadways, the scurrying tumble weeds, the infinite fields of golden grass dotted with horses and sheep, and the blanket of sky. I think I've realized it's because all of these elements make me feel so little. Millions of stars, millions of clouds, millions of blades of grass. I often find myself looking at these vast horizons, wondering where they go. They remind me of the question: Where will I go?
In these moments of vastness and wonder I begin to miss home, because it feels like an anchor. I've recently thought about the saying "home is where the heart is" and I've realized that my heart is in several countries and cities across the globe. I've happily left pieces of it in places that were well deserved. With that I say, I may not know exactly where I'm going, but I'm very pleased with where I've been, and I look forward to where I'll be.
