I love shoes, a passion I share with a countless number of women all over the world. Although my desire to roam around the shopping malls have been reduced to a minimum since we moved to Australia, my love for shoes is eternal. I only brought 11 pairs with me in my suitcase and I am eagerly waiting for our shipment to arrive in 3 weeks time or so. In meantime, I take pleasure in looking at the footwear of the sheilas in Melbourne. So far, it seems as the ladies either do not share my interest for footwear or they simply have a different taste in shoes. Flip-flops or those textile shoes, Ked’s look-alikes, are by far the most popular. Among the working women, practical, black heels – think governess or Salvation Army personnel - seem to be favored. Men prefer flip-flops on their days off or trainers if it is a really cold day. However, the big decision that Aussie men and women make is not which pair of shoes they are putting on when they are leaving the house, the decision is about whether putting on shoes or not. Every time I’ve been in a mall, supermarket, out on the street and even at pick-up time in school, I see grown up people walking around barefoot. They are not coming directly from the beach as ladies are neatly dressed in a summery dress with a handbag but shoeless and the men have shorts and a t-shirt but shoeless. Perhaps I should find it refreshing after years in countries where men and women dress up to go to the mall but I don’t. Apart from looking sloppy, it looks cold, dirty and also somewhat dangerous. Trolleys, high heels, broken glass; there are a number of potentially harmful situations for bare feet. Put on shoes, I say! I will never walk barefoot anywhere except around my house or at the beach and nor will anyone in my family. I might have to rephrase what I just claimed. Yesterday a man greeted me with a ”G’ day” and I automatically replied ”G’day”. I recently swore that I would never say "G’day" as it sounds pathetic when I use Aussie words. But still, I said ”G’day”. So perhaps one of these days I’ll be strolling around the mall barefoot. I guess we’ll just have to wait and see....
If you learned English in school in Sweden around the same time as I did – some 30 years ago – we learned that New York is pronounced Njååå Yåååk (å is pronounced like the French ”eau”) and that a newborn baby is pushed around in a wheeled device called perambulator. Perhaps English is your native tongue? Congratulations then, you will find it a lot easier to get the hang of the Aussie English than many of us foreigners. After one month Down Under, I have noticed some of the following linguistic curiosities:
First of all, women seem to add the word ”luv” at the end of all short sentences. Like: ”how are you today luv’?” or ”have a good day luv’!”. When I say ”thank you”, nobody ever replies with the ”you’re welcome”. Australians replies with ”no worries” or ”it’s not a problem”. ”No worries” is frequently used by the way. When greeting someone, Australians often say ”G’day” or ”G’day mate” just like Crocodile Dundee did in that 80’s movie. Anyone who hasn’t gotten an Australian accent should refrain from using this expression. It sounds pathetic in any other accent, trust me. When people talk about ”Barbie”, they don’t refer to the plastic doll with the tiny waist and the voluptious chest, they talk about barbeque – and Aussies love their barbeques! ”Good on ya” means ”well done” and the friendly-natured Australians say this often. This is probably the same as the Americans ”good for you”, but a ”good for you” from a Swede could very well be sarcastic – depending on the tone of voice – as we Swedes have a tendency to be somewhat grudgy.
I could probably write some more about this topic but since it’s nice weather and I have some cinnamon rolls in the owen, I say like the Aussies; ”hooroo”.
I’m quite busy right now, getting organised in our new house with the rented furniture and kitchenware. For some reason, they gave me 4 spatulas but no wooden spoons or whisk or any other utensils that could be of use if I decide to cook anything that doesn’t require frying. Packing our things and moving out of our serviced apartment was easily done, easier for some than for others depending on if you were packing for yourself only or yourself and the Daughters. Anyway, this blog entry is not about the lack of useful kitchen utensils or who does most of the packing but more in the line of what’s in a woman’s suitcase.
I remember a discussion about women’s packing. Men cannot understand how we can manage to fill an entire suitcase with clothes, although we are just going away for some days, and still we claim we have nothing to wear. I cannot speak for all women, but I’m sure I’m speaking for more than myself when I say that my suitcase looks like it contains more clothes than it actually does. I have some garments that require a substantial amount of space. No, these garments may not be folded in a more practical and compact way. No, these garments may not be excluded from the packing. And last - but not least -, no, one is not enough, several are needed not only to change every day but also depending on what kind of top you are wearing: regular, halterneck, cleavage, strapless... As I had packed all my bras I felt that I had to prove my point to my husband, that I do not in fact have that much more clothes than he does – or at least not as much as one would think judging from the number of suitcases I have. I don’t think my husband really got my point. Instead of saying something along the line like ”wow, you’re right. You don’t pack as much clothes and shoes as I thought” he simply said: ”nice bras but I prefer braless”. A man’s point of view, what more can I say?
Today I had to do something I hadn’t done in a very long time. Since we moved from Sweden 14 years ago, I don’t think I have done it even once per year. I knew already last night that I had to do it today and I admit, I did lose sleep over it, thinking how it would go today. I’m talking about filling the car at the gas station. In all the countries we have lived in these past 14 years, the gas stations have had staff who does everything for you. Except in Sweden of course, but there somehow, my male relatives have taken pity on me and helped me out. Now I was on my own as my husband is in Tasmania on a business trip and I cannot wait for him to come back – which I would normally do. Or take his car instead. But as we only have one car at the moment, this was not an option.
Turned out I had worried in vain. Apart from my hands getting a faint smell of gasoline, everything went fine. As I stood in line to pay at the cashier, a man was trying to make conversation. ”You came in the eiheyfoartyfeive?” he said. I still need to get used to the Australian accent so I didn’t understand what he was talking about. ”The eiheyfoartyfeive” he repeated. ”Excuse me?” I said. ”Your caaaar, I sawr you come in the eiheyfoartyfeive” he clarified. ”It’s not my car, it’s a rental” I replied. ”But it’s the eiheyfoartyfeive” he insisted. You’ve got to compliment the man for his perseverance. He was really trying his best to keep the conversation going. ”I don’t know. It’s a silver grey car” I said and left. When I came out to the car I saw it, the model of the car is called i45. So THAT was what he was trying to talk to me about!
Conclusion of my trip to the gas station: I know how to fill gas in the car and I do not know what brand or model of car I’m driving at the moment. It’s a silver grey car. That’s all I need to know.
As we are now living in a modern, Westernized society, there are some things that I need to get used to. Like doing the house work all by myself. People in Australia don’t usually have domestic staff. I realize how good my previous 11 years have been when we had help 6 days per week and I had to do very little by myself, leaving me plenty of time to inspect what others did instead and correct whatever needed correction. I have become a perfectionist. I’m not satisfied unless my home is spotless, clutter-free and detergent-scented.
According to the online dictionary audioenglish.net perfectionism is ”a disposition to feel that anything less than perfect is unacceptable”. At the moment, my standards for perfect are quite high but I am considering lowering my standards just a tad. Not lowering them so much that it will become acceptable to drop school bags just by the door or having empty boxes laying around the house, but more in the sense that shampoo bottles in the bathroom not necessarily have to be arranged according to size and that the piles with girls’ t-shirts don’t have to be totally straight and according to color, from darker to lighter. Perhaps I can even implement this new kind of laid back philosophy in my own closet? Aussies seem to be a laid-back, easy-going kind of people. I think I shall ease up a bit on myself, not vacuum and mop almost every day, not spend so much time on arranging all the cushions and all the other things that can be arranged and re-arranged. I will kick back, tone down and chill out. ”When in Rome, do as the Romans” is now my new motto. Well, at least it’s my ambition to be a bit more Australian-ish, and that is always a start, isn’t it?
It took us two weeks until we found a home. It’s not the Home of our Dreams but it’ll do just fine for the first couple of years or so. It’s a brand new housing development where all the houses look more or less the same, ”executive housing with modern design and lots of light” according to all the realtors in charge of selling the properties. There’s a lot of light all right, our living room with dining area on the second floor has panoramic windows, turning our living area into a human aquarium, should anyone be a couple of metres up in the air that is. This means no more walking stark naked out in the kitchen to get something to drink, unless I intend to live up to the reputation of the free-spirited Swedish women of the 70’s. We have a large and wide balcony from the living room and a small patio outside the girls’ bedrooms. Perfect. I admit – I have no green fingers at all. Flowers and bushes do not seem to flourish in my care. I water the plants, I even give them nourishment but no, I don’t see any results like more flowers or healthy growth. In our garden in Thailand a mango tree and a papaya tree died even with my loving care and attention. Clearly I am not supposed to have any vegetation in my care.
In a few days we’re moving in to our first house in Australia. Despite having lived abroad for almost 15 years now, we are Swedish in our hearts and souls which means a trip or two to IKEA before we can call our house our Home. And soon even Home sweet home.
I guess that your hobbies and interests are very much depending on what the availability in a country is. I cannot say that I was much of a shopper when we first relocated in early 1999. We left Sweden for Italy and despite Italy being the home country of fashion, I spent very little time in the boutiques and malls. Sure, the Italian women are usually petite and I have more of a Viking sized body which of course made shopping less appealing since most of the boutiques carried sizes XXS and XS. I was also pregnant twice meaning my shopping was mostly maternity- and baby related.
After Italy came the capitals of Thailand and Mexico. Both Bangkok and Mexico City are two much polluted cities and I was more or less forced into the shopping malls in order to breathe cold, fairly filtered, air when we lived there. Kuwait is mainly a sand desert, wedged in between Iraq and Saudi Arabia. The not so attractive location of the country is hugely compensated by the great shopping opportunities and the fantastic sales. My closets were jam-packed, honestly. A psychologist would probably diagnose me as a shopaholic beyond salvation.
I guess my condition was a direct result of the environment I was living in. Here in Melbourne, I have felt absolutely no desire to go shopping for anything other than food. It cannot only be that the stores have a less attractive shopping to a higher price, it has to be that Melbourne has a lot of other activities to offer. On our first weekend we became members of the Melbourne Zoo and I – the Leading Lady of Shopping – could not believe my ears when I heard myself suggesting to the family that we sign up as volunteers at the zoo. But yes, that was me talking and I have now traded shopping malls for zoos and out-door living. And it feels good. Very, very good.
It all started in the summer of 1998. We had only known each other for a year when we got married and two days after the wedding my brand new Husband got a job offer in Italy. We were madly in love and thought that we ought to try it out before we have children – three or four – and settle down in Sweden and live a typical Swedish life, whatever that is. Besides, Italy is the country of romance and therefore the perfect place for newly weds. Ah how we ate pizza and pasta! This was before all the GI dieting, when people considered pasta as ”slimming” food. We drank wine, ate Italian gelato, enjoyed life and gained weight. We have lost those extra kilos now, but that is another story.
Now, two daughters and five countries later, we are finally settling down or at least, we’ll try to settle down and see how we feel about NOT moving every three to five years. The odds of us being happy and not wanting to move are in our favor: we’re living in Australia. This is the story of our life Down Under and probably stories from the other countries we have lived in as well. Happy reading!
