The Expat issues a: Please Explain

Wow what a day in Australian history. Last night we went to bed wondering if Australia would be in or out of the World Cup and whether Kevin Rudd would be in or out of Australia's top job. Turns out both scenarios ended disappointingly for the players in question. The Socceroos fought the good fight and came away with a hard earned win, but alas it wasn't enough to keep them in the tournament. The end of Kevin Rudd's term as Australia's Prime Minister became fait acompli in the wee small hours of the morning and he gracefully stepped aside in the caucus room later in the day, handing the reigns to his deputy, Julia Gillard.

In a sporting mad country like Australia, you would have expected such a valiant effort by the national soccer team to have been all over the media. It would have been if it weren't for the political upheaval that was happening simultaneously. So needless to say, soccer took the back seat to politics and all day the media ran around telling us about Australia's first female Prime Minister. An exciting story, certainly, but curiously, the biggest thing I took from today's proceedings was this: there is some stigma attached to being a Redhead in Australia. As an expat, my understanding of Aussie culture is constantly evolving and even after 10 years of living in the thick of it, quirky little things like this pop us and make me question if I even know go from whoa.

So to the Aussies out there, can someone please explain to me why terms such as "Ranga" (short for orangutan as I understand it), "Ginga Ninja", and "Bloodnut" are being tossed around to describe the newly minted Aussie PM. Why is it such a crime to be a redhead in Australia? Isn't it just a hair colour?

A slide by any other name...

Would be called, "a slippery dip". If you lived in Australia that is. I've lived in Australia for 10 years and this is news to me. See what you can learn on ABC Kids?

The view from the top is still very much the same as it was when I knew it as "a slide", but the potential for fun seems to have increased exponentially.




That's the key to the Aussie spirit...same stuff, funnier names.

Still learning the lingo

Yesterday I stopped to get petrol (that's Aussie for gasoline) at a local petrol station. I filled my car with unleaded petrol at a price of $1.47 a litre (1 litres = 0.264172052 US gallons, 1.00 AUD
= 0.663374 USD--which is a lot of numbers meaning my petrol was equivalent to USD$3.68/gallon for those of you who might be interested...) then I went inside the petrol station to pay because as other expat bloggers have observed there is no paying at the pump here in Australia.

So in to the friendly petrol station I go and wait my turn in the queue (that's Australian for line). When I get to the counter the woman at the till (that's Australian for register) asks me which pump I was at and then proceeds to process my payment. While we are waiting for the little credit card slip to print out, she starts telling me a story--completely unsolicited. Normally the people behind the till at the petrol station don't engage in much conversation. If they do, it's usually the, "Nice day today. Beautiful weather." kind of niceties, but not a full story. So immediately I'm a bit thrown by this woman's behaviour.

Petrol Station Lady: "So there was a couple in this car..."

At this point I look at her confused and look out at my own car where my two children were patiently waiting for me and think she is making some reference to my kids or something. She senses my confusion and continues her story..

PSL: "There was an elderly couple here just before. They were in a blue Subaru at pump 6..."

Now I'm thinking she's going to ask me if I've seen the couple because I was at pump 5 just behind them. I'm wondering if they've driven off without paying or something.

She continues...

PSL: "They were both wearing stack hats."

I'm totally lost.

Me: "I'm sorry, what?"

PSL: "They were both wearing stack hats inside of their car."

Me: Looking confused, "I'm sorry, stack hats?"

PSL: Slightly exasperated, "Yeah, stack hats, you know bicycle helmets--they were wearing them inside the car. I've never seen that before."

Me: Finally making the connection--stack means to crash in Australia and so a stack hat would be a crash hat or a crash helmet in this case. I process this all and say, "Well perhaps it's not such a bad idea. I got petrol here a few weeks ago and then pulled out of your petrol station only to be hit by a P Plater two minutes down the road. They are obviously familiar with the area."

PSL: Horrified, "Oh my gosh, were you all right?"

Me: "Yes, we were all fine--I had my kids with me too."

PSL: Horrified further, "Oh your poor kids."

Me: "Yeah they were a bit scared, but everyone was okay."

PSL: "Well that's the important thing."

Me: "Yeah, so you can't be too careful really. I think those older people have just been around the block a few times and they know what they are doing. Don't doubt their stack hats!!"

When I get home later, I relate this story to the Handsome Australian. He has no idea what stack hats are either. I have to tell him. That's the thing about Aussie slang--there is so bloody much of it that even the Aussies who have lived here their whole lives don't know what half of it means. What hope is there for the rest of us?

Learn the Lingo
petrol = gasoline
queue = line
till = cash register
stack hats = crash helmets

The oh so scientific method of choosing a footy team

After my embarrassing conversation with the Handsome Australian's brother about which team I had chosen to support in the new and mysterious world of Aussie Rules football, I felt it was time that I put my loyalties somewhere. After all, the Handsome Australian's brother was right when he said EVERYONE had a team--everyone did. Everywhere you went, it was almost always the second or third question you'd get asked when meeting someone new--Who do you barrack for? And the obsession with Aussie Rules (in Victoria anyway) didn't have a gender divide--both women and men, boys and girls were equally passionate about their footy.

So I set about the task of choosing a team to barrack for.

Now, there are several ways one can go about choosing a football team to support:

Firstly, you might ask your friends who they support and just jump on their bandwagon. At this particular point in my Australian tenure, I didn't know too many people beyond the Handsome Australian and his immediate family. When asked about the footy, they were adamant that I would be barracking for Geelong. End of story. To do otherwise would be to fly in the face of reason and would be seen as a personal affront to the Geelong loving dynasty the Handsome one's Uncle had started so many years ago when the family first immigrated to the lucky country and fell in love with the Blue and White hoops of Geelong.

So decision made right? I know nothing about the game. I should just go along with the Handsome Australian and his family and their love for Geelong surely.

But alas, I'm not one of those girls who just says yes. I'm my own person and I was determined to decide for myself and not be told who I would barrack for (because I really cared oh so much about this life changing decision...sure.)

So I decided I should weigh up other options...

Another possible method for choosing a footy team could be based on the win/loss record at the time of choosing. You obviously want to choose a winning side and what is a better determinant of that than a winning record? Go here to see how the ladder (that's Australian for standings) ended up in 1999 (the year in which I was making this choice). You'll notice if you follow the link, that Geelong finished number 11 out of 16. Do they sound like winners to you? No, I didn't think so either. So that cast even more doubt on Geelong being the right choice. I'm not a loser, I'm a winner!

The ladder was a good way to become acquainted with the different teams--the ones near the top that is. But you can't just choose on record alone.


There are many other important factors that must be considered, like the guernsey (that's Australian for jersey) colours and design for instance. Yes, I think that is an extremely important factor indeed.

It wouldn't be right if I didn't take note of the fashions on the field right? So I had a look at the teams in the top half of the ladder and began to take a critical look at their guernseys. Here were some of my choices (I won't bore you with them all, but if you are keen you can follow the link and have a look at all of them here).

This is the Essendon Bombers guernsey. They finished at the top of the ladder, but didn't go on to win the Premiership (that's the Aussie Rules equivalent of the Super Bowl). The red slash seemed a bit severe.

This is the North Melbourne Kangaroos guernsey. They finished number two on the regular season ladder and made it through the Finals to the Premiership Game and staged a convincing win. So they obviously played well, but I just couldn't cope with the vertical stripes.

This is the guernsey for the Carlton Blues. They finished number 6 on the ladder during the regular season, but valiantly fought their way through the finals for a berth in the Premiership Game. They lost to the North Melbourne Kangaroos by 35 points, but have a look at the guernsey--crisp, classic. I loved the CFC on the front (for Carlton Football Club, of course). Simple and stunning at the same time. Yes, I liked the look of this Carlton team.


It would be rather shallow of me to put so much weight on the look of the guernsey. I thought, I must have a look at the player list as well because you'd want a team with good players (or good looking ones anyway). So I started learning about a few of the players and studying them carefully--this was research, after all. I needed to choose a team.


Here's what I found...they call him SOS (pronounced sauce) and he was amazing! His real name is Stephen Silvagni. A very talented player with an impressive footy pedigree. His father, Sergio or "Serge" Silvagni also played for Carlton. Hence Stephen's nickname SOS stands for Son of Serge. Of course these were unnecessary details. I didn't need any more convincing. I was SOLD!!


So Carlton it was. They had it all, good results during the season, a great looking guernsey and a star player that knocks your socks off!

Now to break the news to the Handsome Australian...

Learn the Lingo
ladder=standings
guernsey=jersey
Finals=playoffs
Preliminary Final=inital round of playoffs
Grand Final=Super Bowl
Premiership Game=Grand Final=Super Bowl
SOS=Son of Serge aka Stephen Silvagni

Who do you barrack for?

Handsome Australian's Brother (HAB): "So have you decided who you barrack for?"

Me: Quickly flipping through the rolodex in my mind (or for those Gen Y readers out there, googling my mind) trying to figure out what he meant by 'barrack'. Coming up empty handed I had to ask what had easily become my most FAQ since my arrival in Australia, "Excuse me?"

HAB: "Your team. You've gotta have a team. Everyone has a team. Have you chosen a team?"

Me: It would be so nice if I actually knew what team he was talking about. It's quite obvious he thinks I know what he means. Look at his face...ahhh. I'm really not this slow, honest, I'm not. Team? Team? Team? Ok I give up, "Team?"

HAB: Disappointment on his face and a distinct hint of disbelief about my inability to understand anything he was talking about--like 'Is this girl for real? Where did my brother find her anyway?' "Yeah, you know, the footy. Have you chosen a team to barrack for in the footy?"

ME: Oh, the footy. Yes, the footy. Of course, the footy. The what? "I'm sorry, the footy?"

HAB: Slowly losing patience, "Yes, the footy. You know, Aussie Rules FOOTBALL."

ME: Light bulb moment, oh that footy. Of course, Aussie Rules. Yeah I totally knew what he was talking about. I just didn't know that I knew...okay I had no idea, and it was painfully obvious to both him and me. "Oh yeah Aussie Rules. That's like Rugby right?"

HAB: A smile creeping up on his face and then boisterous laughter, "No, no (in between laughs) it's not Rugby. Rugby is totally different. We don't follow the Rugby down here. In Vic (meaning the state of Victoria) we are Aussie Rules people. It's a completely different sport. Do you follow sport at all? I mean anything, basketball, grid iron, soccer anything?

ME: I was with him until the grid iron part...here we go again, "Yes, I do follow sports. Well I like basketball anyway and I root for the San Antonio Spurs. I'm a big David Robinson fan (trying to show I do know something about 'sport' as he calls it). I've even been to a few games. (Casually) What's grid iron anyway?"

HAB: Laughing to himself, slapping his knee and then putting on a straight face, "Um, can I give you a tip?"

ME: Oh my God, what have I done now? A tip? What kind of tip--don't ask so many silly questions about sport? Or even better, don't ask so many silly questions period..."Sure."

HAB: "Whatever you do, don't say 'root' when you talk about your support of a sports team here in Australia. It doesn't mean the same thing here that it does in America. It's kinda rude if you catch what I mean."

ME: Going red in the face. Oh this is so embarrassing. What have I said now? How can they call this English--there is nothing about it that's the same. Afraid to ask, but knowing I'm better off finding out now, "Rude? Do you mean offensive?"

HAB: Relishing this, "Yes, offensive."

ME: "What does it mean exactly?"

HAB: "Here, root means to f**k."

ME: Hands over my mouth, my face turning an even darker shade of red. So I just said the equivalent of 'I f**k the San Antonio Spurs.' Right. Is having a conversation in this country always going to suck this much? All I can muster, "I see."

HAB: "Here we say 'barrack' instead of 'root'. So when someone says, 'Who do you barrack for?' They are asking you which team you support. Which, if you remember now, was my original question to you."

ME: Yes, yes, yes, I do remember hearing that funny little 'barrack' word previously, but that was before I said I liked to f**k an entire basketball team. Surely he can forgive me for forgetting. "Yes, you did ask me that didn't you? Well, I think it'd be pretty obvious by now that I haven't chosen one, but judging by my previous statement, I'm guessing I'll be pretty popular when I do!"

HAB: Laughing really hard. "Bloody oath mate, bloody oath."

Learn the Lingo
barrack=root
root=f**k
footy=can refer to football of all varieties: Australian Rules, Rugby, Soccer, etc.
grid iron=American football
sport=sports
bloody oath=too true (in this case)

What's in a name? In Australia, not much...

When you first arrive in a new place, never mind a new country, you will begin to meet tons of new people you've never met before. Lucky for me when I first arrived in Australia I knew the Handsome Australian, but pretty much everyone else was a stranger to me. This of course meant lots of introductions.

First and most important were my introductions to the Handsome Australian's family. While the Handsome Australian was born and raised in Australia, his parents actually immigrated here from Lebanon some years prior to his birth. Yes, the plot thickens...So not only was I dealing with adapting to the Australian culture, but I had to take a crash course in the Lebanese culture as well. I would say the Handsome Australian's family were very assimilated in their adopted homeland by the time I met them, but there were many Lebanese traditions, values and beliefs that they still held very dear.

The Handsome Australian took me home to meet his parents and family on my second night in Australia. I think they were all intrigued to see what I'd be like--this American girl the Handsome Australian had met in Argentina of all places who'd come all this way to be with their son/brother. I wasn't sure what to expect myself. It's always a bit nerve racking meeting your new boyfriend's parents, but because of our situation, this particular meeting seemed more intense.

When we got to his house, his parents were both in the kitchen preparing dinner and his various brothers were in different rooms studying or watching TV. They were all very warm and welcoming to me. I felt at home in their house almost immediately. When the Handsome Australian introduced me to them he said, "So everyone this is Catherine*." And he went through and named his parents and all his siblings. They all greeted me with a kiss on the cheek which is an Australian way to greet friends and family and would have seemed completely odd to me had I not just spent a year in Buenos Aires where the custom was very much the same.

And then it began....His father said, "Cathy what will you have to drink?" and I was thinking, Poor guy, he didn't hear my name properly and he's calling me Cathy. Instead of correcting him, I just went with it and told him what I'd have to drink. Then one of his brothers said, "So Cathy how are you finding Australia?" Again, I'm thinking, Wow this family really must have a hearing problem--I know the Handsome Australian said my full name as Catherine but they all keep calling me Cathy--or maybe they just really feel like they know me. I proceeded to answer his question and still didn't correct him on my name. Didn't want to create too many waves on my first night. I was trying to make a good impression after all.

The night carried on and things went smoothly. We were all getting along quite well, but as the night wore on, my name kept changing. As they got to know me a bit better I wasn't Cathy any more it was, "Hey Cath would you like some more wine?" My name had metamorphosed through the evening and was getting shorter and shorter by the minute. It was bizarre.

A few days later I went to meet the Handsome Australian's mates (that's Aussie for friends--but you already knew that didn't you?) down at the local Cricket club. Now Cricket players in Australia aren't known for their intellectual abilities and quite a few of these guys were a bit rough and ready, but they were friendly just the same. Again we went through the introductions, "Guys I'd like you to meet Catherine." Then as they introduced themselves to me, it went something like this, "G'day Catie, how ya goin'? I'm Haydo good to meet ya." Um, did he just call me Catie??? And what kind of name is Haydo anyway? Everyone at the Cricket club had different versions of my name--to some I was Catie, some Cath, some Cathy, some Caz, but no one called me Catherine. No one.

I'd never really had a nick name before and I wasn't that keen on the shortened versions of my name either, but it wasn't something it seemed like I had any control over. The Australians love to shorten everything, particularly names. Turns out Haydo is short for Hayden.

Names don't get shortened willy nilly either, there aren't any hard and fast rules, but there are some guidelines that are loosely followed:

Names with an "r" somewhere in the middle will have the "r" substituted for a double "z" and an "a" added to the end. Confused? I know, it sounds bizarre, but it's not that hard once you get the hang of it. Let's take Sharon for example, "Sharon" (a perfectly respectful name) becomes "Shazza" (respectful name taking a walk on the wild side). Now people that know Sharon really well will even drop the end of "Shazza" and simply call her "Shaz". "Shaz" sounds like an unusual name if you're just meeting someone, but really it's just run of the mill "Sharon".

The same rings true for "Barry"--it becomes "Bazza" or "Baz". Harry becomes "Hazza" or "Haz", Lauren becomes "Lozza" or "Loz". Warren becomes "Wazza" or "Waz".

Other common names will be shortened or changed by adding an "o" to the end. For example, "Dave" becomes "Davo". "Steve" becomes "Stevo".

The "ie" ending is pretty popular as well, although it sees more use with every day words such as breakfast, which becomes "brekkie" or biscuit which becomes "bickie".

Call them casual, call them laid back, call them lazy, call them creative, call them colourful (that's Aussie for colorful), but whatever you do, just don't call an Aussie by their proper name. And be prepared, because once you set foot in the country, your name will never be the same again either!

Learn the Lingo
mates=friends
brekkie=breakfast
bickie (short for biscuit)=cookie
Shazza=Sharon
Hazza=Harry
Bazza=Barry
Lozza=Lauren
Wazza=Warren
Haydo=Hayden
Davo=Dave
Stevo=Steve
colourful=colorful


*Note: My name isn't really Catherine, Cathy, Cath, or Caz, but I'm used to having a different moniker now that I live in Oz.