Sporty Sports Day

The kids were walking home from school recently and their conversation went something like this:

Caitlyn: "These Australians are really serious about their sports!"
Jack: "Yeah, they are so super sporty!"
Josh (their Canadian friend): "They are like outside all the time running around! You know, we Canadians are like, happy to sit in front of the T.V. every once in awhile."
Then they all nodded in earnest agreement.

A couple of weeks ago Caitlyn had her "Sports Carnival." Although the kids had fun, I would agree that it was far more serious than the Sports Days of our Canadian past.

In Calgary, some of the kid's favourite sports day events weren't really even true "sports". While technically running is a part of "duck, duck, goose," I don't think any of the kids actually realized they were exercising. And the reason that particular game station was so popular - the person who was "it" got to drench the "goose" with a wet sponge.

My personal favourite was at Caitlyn's grade 1 sports day, where all of the kids fought for their turn to roll down a hill in an empty refrigerator box! Classic!

I guess I expected a less competitive edge to Caitlyn's Aussie Sports Carnival. Maybe some races of the wheel barrel, egg on the spoon, potato sack, or three-legged variety? Instead the day was filled with shot put, long jump, high jump, and a 100 metre sprint. It was like a mini-Olympics! The kids were all divided up into their school houses with the goal of winning points for their teams. Chants and house songs filled the air. I had to stifle a giggle when Caitlyn's team did their chants - her house has the unfortunate sounding name of Meibusch (pronounced "my bush"). I know, I'm juvenile!

They had fun cheering for their teams, wearing their House colours, doing their House chants, but it was definitely a competition. Caitlyn gave it her best, and that's all we asked. She was disappointed with her performance but soon perked up upon the presentation of a special treat. No... not a medal or even a ribbon... she was happy with a cupcake (or two) from the bake sale table.

So, while some of us Canadians are not so "super sporty" we will give it a go when there's chocolate at the finish line!

The Rain in Spain/Brisbane

Sometimes I feel a little like My Fair Lady's Eliza Doolittle living in Australia. "The rain in Brisbane falls mainly on the plain" (if you can, try to imagine me saying that with kind of an Australian accent). I often wonder what we sound like to them. Do we sound cool or just annoying?

I'm thankful though that we moved somewhere where English is the official language. It's not that I don't like learning new languages, it's just that moving is hard enough without having people not understand you. And living in an English-speaking country means that I haven't been reduced to using charades or pantomimes to get my point across - not like my brother Robb who's been working in Jakarta. What I would have given to have seen him act out his dire need for Pepto-Bismal at the local Indonesian pharmacy! But then again, I probably would have needed to buy some "Depends" for myself from laughing so hard!

But even in Australian there are times when we have trouble understanding their accent, and vice versa.

At the beginning of school Jack was convinced that some of the kids in his class thought he was annoying. He was adamant that their nickname for him - "noy boy" - was short for "annoying boy". As he tearfully related the story to me, I couldn't help but worry whether he was really having a hard time fitting in. But, after saying the words over a few times in my head "noy boy, noy boy," I started to laugh. I reassured Jack that no - the kids did not think he was annoying - they were just calling him "new boy!"

Caitlyn has had her own troubles understanding the new accent. Her teacher even suggested we have her hearing tested because Caitlyn was not always responding to instructions or to her name. Turns out her hearing is perfect, she just didn't recognize that "Kitlain" was her!

Last week I went for coffee with a friend. When I went to pay, the girl told me my total was $22. Secretly wishing for a Tim Horton's, I paid the money and waited for my change. The waitress handed me my money and a whole date loaf. I looked at her funny and told her that I had not, in fact, ordered a date loaf. She was certain that I had. So, I went through my order:

• a jam donut - she nodded,
• an almond croissant - she nodded,
• a flat white (like a latte) - again, she nodded, and
• a diet coke - she grimaced.

Apparently a diet coke, with a Canadian accent, sounds a lot like date loaf - who knew? At least I got some change back!

Jack is already starting to take on a bit of an accent. He was excited the other day when he was finally able to say some of his friends' names "properly". Oliver has now become "Olivah" and Robbie has turned into "Rubbie". He also informed his Uncle "Rub" that Rice Bubbles are actually Rice Krispies, just said with an Australian accent!

I don't know if in the end we'll all pick up their accent but in some ways we're part way there - Queenslanders are also known for finishing their sentences off with "eh!"

The Crocodile Hunter

O.k., I've had my first reptile moment in Australia. I knew it would come sooner or later. I've seen snakes at the zoos here and the occasional lizard at the more wooded parks, but I had yet to actually encounter a creature inside my own house! I didn't like it!!!! Before any of you start worrying about my well-being, it was not a brown snake (venomous ones) or even a poisonous spider. Instead it was a green striped gecko that somehow wandered in and destroyed my afternoon's tranquility.

I was innocently minding my own business, when I saw a little thing by the step. I was about to pick it up, thinking Jack had left his little toy crocodile on the floor when I saw it wink at me. I'm sure the neighbours next door heard me squeal!!

I knew Jack would think the gecko was too cute and ask "Mom, could we keep it?" - but seeing it in my house gave me a major case of the willies. It's like when you hear there's lice going around in your kid's school - you automatically start itching. The idea of some reptile roaming freely around my house, who could at any moment dart out at me, was too much!

Bravely, I tried to get it to run to the door by stomping my feet - but it couldn't get over the step. I thought those things had sticky feet and could climb anything? Not my gecko! Instead my maneuvers backfired and the thing started running towards me. Clearly, I was not channelling Steve Irwin "Crocodile Hunter".

I had to leave for an appointment but I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep if it was still in the house. I had pictures of waking up to a gecko on my head! Having no luck corralling the dumb thing into a container, I finally managed to cover it with a garbage can. So I left him (or her, I didn't check!) confined to quarters. I ignored my urge to call Paul. Later, when I returned, the gecko was thankfully still under the can. I gathered up my courage, opened the garage door, slid a piece of paper under the can, picked it all up, and RAN! I nearly made it out of the garage before the gecko escaped, but this time my foot stamping made it run away from me and into the great outdoors. Again, I was squealing the whole time!!

I'm not even sure if geckos are classified as reptiles but I don't care. While my brain knows they are small, harmless, and even good to have around (they eat mosquitoes) it still freaked me out.

So give me the "wall of death" around my house, thank you very much. I like my reptiles behind glass!