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April 2009
Its a grown-up thing
If you don't take a chance, you'll never know the outcome
I say potato, you say potaaahto
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. 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…
If you don't take a chance, you'll never know the outcome
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….
I say potato you say potaaahto
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…
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