The Accent That Never Was

I've been in Australia for a bit under nine months. Normally, when I live abroad, it takes a couple months (three or four) before I can start picking up how to speak like a local. In London, after a while I could confuse locals with my British lilt and pronunciation of "schedule". In Paris, I learned how to say certain words quickly with a Parisian accent, so as to avoid head spins in local shops.

By now I had expected to be speaking with a curly Outback drawl and abandoning the hard "r" and use of the word "afternoon" (Aussies read this as "arvo").

This time, though, I can't for the life of me get the accent.

While I hang out with locals and practice the accent (by obnoxiously repeating everything they say under my breath), I sound like an American doing a horrible job at a British accent. Sometimes, I start channeling several different types of Aussie accents with snippets of words in my otherwise very General American Accent.

What is frustrating about not acing the accent is that whenever I'm in public interacting with strangers, it becomes obvious I'm not from here. This means that, more often than not, the Aussie talking with me will pause somewhere in the exchange (whether it's ordering a smoothie, attending a yoga class, or networking) and ask me, "So, what are you here for exactly? Are you from Canada or USA?"

With an infuriatingly perfect Aussie accent!

On a side note: It is seen as polite to always ask Canada before considering a US passport, because Canadians can get sorely offended to be asked if they're American.

This exchange always takes some wind of of my sails because it reminds me of my temporary status. It also reminds me of my incredible failure at assimilating through adjusting my accent, something at which I'm normally so good.

And yet all Aussies I've met have nailed an American accent effortlessly, which only adds to my fury. They attribute it to Hollywood. I'm still not pleased.

For one thing, American voices are just plain loud, so compared to the more breathy accents of Australians, my voice nicely echos off of the buildings in the nearby suburb. We audibly stick out, and sometimes that is not what I'm going for.

Another thing is, I don't think my brain has been able to completely discern between the soft, mumbled accent of a Queenslander (where I am studying) to the more harsh twangs of a Victorian or New South Wales person. And bogan accents (aka hicks) are the ones I understand the best because of my watching of Kath & Kim when I was sick a few months ago. The accents here by region are subtle, yet noticeable after living here a while, and I still don't fully understand how to tease each separate type apart from the others.

I just saw an article come out about how the Aussie accent(s) first came to be. It says that it could stem from the early settlers being avid imbibers of alcohol, and their British accents got drawled out and warped by their drunkenness. I admit, this makes me feel better, as I reason that my decent British accent has not been able to develop into the complicated Australian one because I am not one who enjoys the spiked beverage very often, and therefore have little understanding of how to shift the "r" sound from regal to rough.

Maybe I will never be able to accomplish the Australian drawl. For now, I keep my conversations brief and end with a "Ta!" (which means "thanks"), mumbling as much as I can when asked for my order before running away.

The Australian accent is really difficult.

Holiday Surprises, Already

I was at the post office a few days ago mailing my passport off to the Vietnamese Embassy (more on that later) when I saw some odd holiday material staring at me in a basket. Christmas-related material.

There were two things that disturbed me about this encounter:
(1) It's October.
(2) It was a wombat wrapped in a wreath of ivy and poinsettias (I wish I had gotten a picture).

Let me start with the first disturbing thing; being that it's October, I had expected another, more festive holiday to appear in card stocks and decorations around. I mean Halloween. What I mean is, Australia is not about Halloween, really.

As an American, Halloween is a very important part of my holiday kick-off celebrations. In a way, it is what staves off December-related holidays for a while longer - it's the bread crumble that lures us to the holiday season with excitement.

And I love Halloween. I know some people see it as a capitalistic ploy to drug ourselves with sugar and buy things we don't need. But, for me, I see it as a holiday where I get to celebrate imagination and explore other-worldly realities without being considered a morbid occultist. I love watching Hocus Pocus while eating witches hats. As a kid, I loved going to school Halloween festivals to bob for apples, eat popcorn hands, and listen to the music alternating between "The Monster Mash" and "Thriller". It's a brief holiday that encourages people to get outside of their comfort zone and socialize with each other, maybe bonding over different topics drinking (let's say for example) a punch of ghoulish origins.

But Aussies are not keen on Halloween, and decorations are sparse. It does have a small following in pockets here and there, but I have found myself sitting in my room alone listening to YouTube Playlists of Halloween favorites while trying to find excuses to bake and share witches hats. This year I will have to miss the Halloween magic, sadly.

And I have so many costume ideas in my head!

Anyways, back to the issue of holidays cards two months in advance...

The second part of what bothered me was the poor wombat. Normally, in the Northern Hemisphere, that picture wouldn't bother me that much because it is getting colder, and kangaroos swaddled in red stockings would look comforting and appealing as I start bundling up.

But here, we are going into summer. I have been starting to sweat while standing outside in the shade. Thinking of a wombat surrounded by winter flora as I glistened in the warm post office seemed alarming to me. The Aussie animals wintry holiday stockings and sweaters in the other cards made me feel very sorry for the poor things being suffocated in warm attire. 

I asked Kylie about this, and she mentioned that there is a kind of romantic lure to the frigid winters around the holidays - perhaps the Aussies crave to be snowed on during the holidays, since the northern media have a stronghold on holiday movies and shows. They've grown up seeing us in ugly sweaters and turtlenecks, surrounding by a fire. Conversely, they are peeling off what few layers they have here so as not to melt into a puddle with the brewing heat.

I knew these things before coming here, too. I knew that Halloween wasn't celebrated as much in Australia. And I understood that the holidays would be during sweltering summer heat. I guess I didn't fully grasp what that would mean (or feel like) until I've started to be in it, now. And now that it's here, I am realizing how important this time of the year is to my memory bank, with the cool weather and celebratory atmosphere. I admit, I miss this part of the US right now (but that does not mean I miss the cold).

Fortunately, I plan on being in Vietnam for Xmas, so I shouldn't die from heat exhaustion.

Tasmania Mania

I just had my Spring Break 2015 trip with some friends!  

While many college-enrolled students would go somewhere they can relish in week-long debauchery, my friends and I had a different idea for our holiday - we went to Tasmania! No, not Tanzania. Tasmania, the little island off the southern coast of Australia, where the Tasmanian Devils originate. Tasmania is not known for its crazy nightlife – it’s known for its nature.

Five of us water ladies booked a six-day adventure through the island’s key natural destinations. We landed in Hobart, hopped into an intimately-sized car, and drove into the wilderness. I did not really keep track of the agenda for our trip, as I felt Colorado Meg and Malaysian Densie had already thought things through, so I essentially arrived at the airport on time, and followed them for much of the trip. I think Indian Pritha & Nepalese Niru may have had the same strategy as me on the trip.

I was a bit nervous about our trip. Five women together in a small car driving through the quiet hinterlands of Tassie sounded like it could very well become a chaos of tears and rage. Happily, we had a great time all around, and no one emerged maimed from the adventure.

My overall perception of Tasmania was one of pure, clean nature. The air was crisp and fresh and the temperature was brisk (though it did get cold with the Arctic winds blowing in). The landscape rolled with hills and mountains, and the greens that painted the earth was always incredible. Farms filled with sheep, cows, and Shetland Ponies guided us on each road. There was wildlife everywhere - sadly, that also means we met a lot of roadkill. The people were pleasant and helpful, as well as quiet like their island, as if the whole area was sitting in a constant Zen meditation while we journeyed around.

My biggest complaint about Tassie is not much of a complaint. While my friends were able to eat anything and feasted on decadent (at least I think) meals, my burden of gluten-free eating meant that all of my meals ended up being much healthier. For example, whenever they got fish and chips, my option was to get a salad with grilled fish on top. The downside is I did not get to enjoy some really rich food – the upside is that I did not feel gross by the end of the trip.

Okay, and the other complaint I have about Tassie is that the hole in the ozone layer lies just above the island. Which means I am currently a bright lobster red color all over my nose/chest/neck/ears. Reminder to self: never, ever!, leave the house without SPF on every inch of skin.

Day 1

We drove for a few hours on arrival and spent our first night in the Freycinet National Park so we could see Wineglass Bay in the morning. Freycinet is on the east coast and takes a bit of a drive through nowhere to get there. Not having expected just how remote our drive would be, we did not pick up anything to eat before getting in the car at lunch time, which means we had five rather hangry women hunting for food options on our scenic drive through the hilly lands. We grabbed fish and chips by a beach.

Once we arrived at our tree-laden cabin grounds, we realized our evening would be us keeping each other company and have a ladies’ night of wine and conversation….if only we could find a place to buy food and wine! Fortunately, the cabin area had a little country store, where we stocked up on cheese, wine, and crackers for our evening chatter.

Day 2

We woke up early in the morning to frosted windowpanes and got ready to hike Wineglass Bay. We arrived at the parking lot and got greeted by some very precocious wallabies (even one had a baby in her pouch!!), and we spent a good half-hour capturing their fluffy goodness as much as possible.

Then we hiked. Meg and Denise had been prepared for an intense and steep hike – the other three of us (Pritha – Niru – me) were thinking it would be a pleasant hike up and down a gentle hill to see the beach. We were wrong. We heaved and hyperventilated as we hauled ourselves over the rocky terrain and steep levels for a while before making it to a lookout. My fear of heights were probably the hardest part for me, as it slows me down significantly. I am glad that the others were sympathetic to my irrational whines.

I was thrilled to see that Wineglass Bay is just as beautiful in reality as it is in photographs. The white beach with the vibrant blues of the water, hugged with some elegant hills on three sides, was simply gorgeous. We decided to go down to the beach and frolic; this meant, for “us slow ones”, that we would have to struggle down the stairs for a while longer (and then back up). Once we got down to the beach, we enjoyed the freezing waters and wandered around the sand barefoot for a while before we braved the steep slope once more.

After our successful morning with wallabies and wineglasses, we drove to Hobart for an evening rest.

I really loved Hobart. We were not there nearly long enough to enjoy it, but the atmosphere of the town and the design of the older buildings charmed me completely. It is a town that revolves around the harbor, and the social scene circles the pier’s old landmarks with lots of hip bars and restaurants that stay awake into the late evening. It reminded me a lot of Newburyport in Massachusetts, only with more people – or Reykjavik or Oslo, in its character and layout. Its thick river weaves through the city, while hills full of houses lurk on both sides of the beds. I was so charmed. It was the kind of town I could see myself living in happily when my hair is grey and I need to have a quieter existence for a while.

We walked around the pier for a few hours, ate some dinner, and got some pretty flawless desserts at the aptly-named Honey Badger Dessert Café. We went back to our adorable hostel, Montecute, and hung out with the hostel’s enthusiastic puppy while we figured out what to do in the city the following day.

Day 3

The hostel owner strongly encouraged us to go to the MONA – The Museum of Old and New Art. It’s one of the linchpins to Tasmania’s economy, and is run by some filthy rich gambling dude who likes to collect art about sex and death. The museum is situated on a beautiful vineyard just outside of the city that gives great scenic views. The artwork inside is stuff that I like (odd – esoteric – abstract), but I know that it was a bit too much for some of the other people there. My favorite exhibit was the Digestion Machine (I called it the Poo Machine), which imitated the entire digestion tract with real food so you could see what your insides look like. It was so neat!!!

I also liked these two exhibits that were showing:

• Mathieu Briand's "Et In Libertalia Ego"
• Candice Breitz's "QUEEN (A Portrait of Madonna)"

After a successful wander through the museum, we packed ourselves back into the car and drove five hours to Cradle Mountain National Park. We got another cabin in the woods and bought some food to make dinner and hide from the freezing cold outside in the alpine area with some television.

Day 4

In the morning we hiked Cradle Mountain – well, Meg and Denise woke up earlier to hike the whole mountain for eight hours, while the rest of us decided to have a much less intense three-hour hike. Even so, the hike was not one for wheelchairs; we panted and crawled up some pretty precarious areas for a good amount of our hike. Truthfully, I’m not even really sure how some of the hike could be considered legitimate trails because they seemed so difficult to find and manage. However, it was a more forgiving trail than the one at Wineglass Bay. We got to run into some wild wombats and wallabies on the way up (to which I exclaimed I could be smote by lightening on the spot and be happy). We saw some beautiful backdrops of lakes and forested hills, and got to rest by a waterfall on the way up. We met some pretty nice people while hiking, as well.

Cradle Mountain, I think, would have been just as good for me if I didn’t hike up it because the view of the mountain peaks from the lower-level lakes were my favorite part. Maybe I am too much of a city girl, in that sense...but I think my favorite part about mountains is looking up at them, not looking down from them.

After we all finished the hike and met back up, we went to Devils @ Cradle for a night feeding tour of the Tasmanian Devils. There, we got to learn about these strange-looking animals and listen to them as they screeched and howled at each other. We enjoyed attempting their noises, and I personally found them to be more endearing once I learned more about them than before – they are cute because they’re kind of ugly, like pugs. And they have some horrible social skills, which make them endearing.

Day 5

We drove off to Launceston for our final night in Tassie before our flight out there. First we stopped off at Devonport to see if there was anything there to admire (there was a lighthouse, but that was about it). When we arrived at Launceston, I was startled by the stake difference between this town and Hobart – Hobart charmed the pants off of me, while Launceston felt like a more quiet, less charming town. It was a nice town, and I liked it fine…I just much preferred Hobart.

We went to the very pretty City Park and studied some Japanese Macaque Monkeys that lived there in an enclosure surrounded by flowers, which admittedly confused me a lot (why where there macaques in Tassie?!). We got some dinner, but the city on a Saturday night was all but completely shut down and deserted for a footy game. We luckily found an indoor crazy golf center and spent our final night teaching each other put-put skills and chuckling over the strange outcome of our last night.

Day 6

Our flight was in the early evening, so we had a lot of time to kill before leaving. The town is pretty small, though, and we had scaled the CBD area pretty thoroughly the day before. We decided to visit the Cataract Gorge just on the skirts of the town. The gorge has been made into a lovely reserve park with bridges and restaurants to entertain locals. We walked for a while around the gorge and ended up going on a surprise hike that took us up a steep hill so mystery and back to the gorge in a strange circle. The gorge had a nice basin, though, full of interesting rock formations covered in trees.

We were distracted by a lot of our walk/hike around the gorge by the sound of a wailing bird. Pritha remarked that it sounded like a peacock, and we ended up at a café that was indeed swarming (infested?) with peacocks howling and crowing at each other. This also confused me a lot, as I’m pretty sure peacocks are not native to Australia/Tasmania, but the effect was still beautiful.

After eating a large meal of fish and chips (or, for me, fish and salad), we walked around the riverfront of Launceston and slowly made our way back to the airport, where we celebrated a very lovely, successful, relaxing holiday together.

I’m so glad I went.