tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-84886115823173968892024-02-07T12:46:42.074-08:00Livin' la vida Australia'Livin' la vida Australia' is a journal of my experiences in Australia, having moved down under back in 2008 and going through everything from the first Vegimite on toast, to finally seeing a kangaroo in the wild, I wanted to communicate these to my friends back in the US and Europe via a blog, as it was more convenient than sending dozens of emails with the same information to all.gordavihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01525386549181253537noreply@blogger.comBlogger27125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8488611582317396889.post-47196576179630812562013-06-11T17:45:00.002-07:002020-06-11T22:34:50.317-07:00Mr. Livin' La Vida Loca Himself, Performs His Famous Song Down Under and Triggers Some Memories<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I've been a huge fan of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ricky_Martin">Ricky Martin</a> for a very long time. I have admired his persona, outlook on life, showmanship, songs and of course his amazing chiselled good looks! Who would not admire his beauty? I mean really! Ricky 'has angel' is what they would say in Latin America, loosely translated to 'has charisma,' or a something special which can't be explained.<br />
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When I started my blog, back in 2008, upon arriving in Australia, I thought it would be appropriate to name it 'Livin' la vida Australia' because it sort of described the whirlwind life I was experiencing down under (a crazy life in Australia). Grant it, I didn't "wake up in NYC, in a funky cheap hotel, blah, blah, blah..." as Ricky's <a href="http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/rickymartin/livinlavidaloca.html">song says</a>, but I have felt like <a href="http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/rickymartin/livinlavidaloca.html">I had a bullet in my brain</a>, more than once, but such is life, regardless where one lives.<br />
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Ricky is one of the judges on Australia's <a href="http://www.thevoice.com.au/">'The Voice'</a> and the other night he and the other three judges performed his infamous 'Living la vida loca' song, and upon watching it on <a href="http://www.youtube.com/">YouTube</a>, I was instantly transported to 1999. I was living in NYC, working as an Art Director at <a href="http://www.google.com/search?client=safari&rls=en&q=time+inc&ie=UTF-8&oe=UTF-8">Time Inc.</a>'s <a href="http://www.parenting.com/">Parenting Magazine</a>, just married and with a little baby on the way... pure bliss. Who would have guessed that Ricky and I would cross paths in Australia 14 years later? Still BLISS, only with three daughters, still married, and working for <a href="http://www.propertyportalwatch.com/">Property Portal Watch</a> in a totally different role, Editor. I guess when you change hemispheres, you change your calling too.<br />
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One thing still true, I'm still a Ricky fan. Thank you, Mr Martin, for funnelling some awesome memories into my present.<br />
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<i>Meaning of <b><a href="http://elpais.com/diario/2010/03/28/ultima/1269730801_850215.html">Tener ángel</a> </b>(to have angel) in Spanish... no English, sorry.</i><br />
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gordavihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01525386549181253537noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8488611582317396889.post-81404704606417986502013-03-11T00:42:00.000-07:002013-03-11T00:44:54.498-07:00I Can't Take This Heat Anymore<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
It's been over a year since my last post. Has my life been lacklustre and event free, that I have not had anything to write about? Hardly, quite the contrary actually. 2012 has been chock full of work and family responsibilities that, I have not had any time for anything else. So far, 2013 has been a repeat of last year, however I am in desperate need to vent today, and so I have taken to blog about that which troubles me... the heat.<br />
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I think I can only blame myself for the state I am currently in. Yes, I have brought on the terrible and scorching weather which has Victoria on its knees, due to the five years of daily complaints to God about Melbourne's dreadfully cold and gloomy weather. Now, I have been rewarded with the heat-wave of all heat-waves, and I recognise that I have gone too far with my prayers.<br />
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The message has been received, loud and clear. I now understand that I am most definitely supposed to live in a cold climate, and that my DNA was not programmed for this infernal heat. OK, lets turn back the thermostat dial now, please? God, are you listening? Pretty please?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihYdxFLNjAcoaXqkUgC0buNGBAQNDfZlT5GbF_PPWa7lcHk4KWYA3xR2oFH2zAGKLFjBXwJTVrvhGsO74gkGNtN6hEjUoLj8-w7a2egNi3mqtqbzTc_Nisn3oKFzgXDXO3Yn2I7fixSl0X/s1600/Australia+extreme+heat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihYdxFLNjAcoaXqkUgC0buNGBAQNDfZlT5GbF_PPWa7lcHk4KWYA3xR2oFH2zAGKLFjBXwJTVrvhGsO74gkGNtN6hEjUoLj8-w7a2egNi3mqtqbzTc_Nisn3oKFzgXDXO3Yn2I7fixSl0X/s400/Australia+extreme+heat.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 16px;"><i>Australian Bureau of Meteorology temperature map - with a new colour for 52-54C. (125-120F)</i></span></div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This is the current temperature, and it's evening.</span></i><br />
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gordavihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01525386549181253537noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8488611582317396889.post-52561644419273694652012-03-01T02:44:00.007-08:002012-03-01T04:09:55.213-08:00'Grease' the film had another Aussie associated to it besides Olivia Newton-John<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large; line-height: 18px;">"Good girl Sandy and greaser Danny fell in love over the summer. But when they unexpectedly discover they're now in the same high school, will they be able to rekindle their romance?" That's the brief description of the infamous film <i><a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0077631/">Grease</a></i>. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large; line-height: 18px;">It was the summer of 1978 when I saw this movie in the cinema, with my parents, brother, and a family from church (the Sljivars). We laughed, sang, and eventually even danced our way out of the movie theatre to 'We Go Together'. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large; line-height: 18px;"><i>Grease</i> had such a huge impact on me! I dreamed of becoming an actress and being in a film some day myself. I wanted to be as pretty as Sandy (Olivia Newton-John), in both the goody-two-shoe and the vampy personalities she interpreted... and I hated the fact that my mother always had to put a damper on everything, even something as happy as this movie. Her walking out comment to me was: "You see how friends can be such a bad influence on a person? Sandy was such a good girl, and now she's a slut!" Way to look at the bright side of life mom... it's JUST a movie for the love of God! A musical at that! </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large; line-height: 18px;">But I digress... I won't bore you with my childhood hang ups.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large; line-height: 18px;">So, why bring up this classic? What does it have to do with 'Livin' la vida Australia' anyway?</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large; line-height: 18px;">My eldest daughter is auditioning for the role of Sandy at her school' production of <i>Grease</i>. She has been practicing 'Hopelessly Devoted to You' over, and over again. To the point that I find myself humming it everywhere, from the kitchen to driving to the market. I've heard it a little too much, actually. But I sacrifice my ears for the happiness of my daughter, gosh darn it! Break a leg my dear, and here's hoping you become famous some day. </span><br />
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</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><iframe frameborder="0" height="204" src="http://www.dailymotion.com/embed/video/x3aw7d" width="480"></iframe></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x3aw7d_grease-hopelessly-devoted-to-you_news" target="_blank">GREASE - HOPELESSLY DEVOTED TO YOU</a> <i>by <a href="http://www.dailymotion.com/pierrot77" target="_blank">pierrot77</a></i></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">This evening we watched <i>Grease</i> as a family, here in <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Olivia_Newton-John">Olivia Newton-John's hometown of Melbourne</a> (sans my mother); all comfy on our sofas an chowing down on burritos. It was like finding some old pictures in a shoe box and reminiscing about the time we lived the moments and immortalised them in photos. My eldest is now 12 years old too, just like I was when I first experienced the movie. I wondered if she found John Travolta to be as unattractive as did I at her age? Isn't it interesting how our tastes change as we age? I see him now, and think "OMG, he was drop dead gorgeous!"</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.menshairstyles.net/d/42350-1/John+Travolta+Grease+movie+with+singer+Olivia.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="http://www.menshairstyles.net/d/42350-1/John+Travolta+Grease+movie+with+singer+Olivia.jpg" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">The lovely Miss Olivia Newton-John and the yummy John Travolta</span></td></tr>
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</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">As a side note, my daughters think that George Clooney is ugly... sigh... I have assured them that sometime later in life they'll think differently.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.un.org/sg/mop/images/clooney3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://www.un.org/sg/mop/images/clooney3.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">The equally yummy Mr. Clooney</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">When the film's opening credits began flashing before us, I found out the Aussie connection to the film... which is less obvious than the <a href="http://olivianewton-john.com/">Olivia Newton-John</a> link.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Barry_Gibb">Barry Gibb</a> - of the famed 70s disco group <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bee-Gees">Bee Gees</a> - composed the music and wrote the lyrics of such songs as 'Grease is the Word' and yes, the song which now permanently lives in my brain, 'Hopelessly Devoted to You', among others.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Barry Gibb was born in the UK, but at the age of 12 (there goes that number again) his family moved to Brisbane, Australia, which is where he began his musical career. And there you go! Mr. Gibb is the other Australian link in <i>Grease</i>.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I like it when puzzle pieces from the past fall into place. It's like hearing a joke you learned in your youth, and finally getting the punchline, because it was too mature to understand at the wet-behind-your-ears ripe age of 12.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">There were many 'punchlines' in this film which I only got tonight, but they whizzed past my daughters' heads, keeping this movie very appropriate for them to watch, just like it was for me back then. I didn't give the lecture at the end of the film, by-the-way, my youngest saw to that, commenting that Sandy shouldn't have started smoking just to look cool.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Maybe some day, when my daughters have daughters, and they are 12, they'll screen <i>Grease</i> for them. It should be interesting. Who knows where they will be, and what link they'll find to the film.</span></div></div>gordavihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01525386549181253537noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8488611582317396889.post-67353784378317408932012-02-08T04:43:00.000-08:002012-02-09T19:50:04.924-08:00Don't hide it, frame it!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">I think that sometimes that which you have been looking for but somehow could not find, even if it bites you on the nose, just falls into your lap. Today is such a day. I've stumbled upon some great organisational ideas.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Organisation has always been a weak point of mine. My husband has even gone as far as accusing me of being a hoarder… a harsh label to be issued, when that is not what you identify yourself as, especially after reality TV has gone and dissected the personality of a true hoarder for all of us to gasp at. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Mine is but a mere shadow of what is displayed for millions to gawk in bewilderment (how DOES a person get to that point anyway?). I am not 'that' woman, you know… the one who can't find her way through her house, due to ceiling-high mountains of boxes and unidentified debris which may or may not also contain a decomposing cat, gone missing over six months ago.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">No, mine is a condition which many artists around the world have been stricken by in the beginning of their creative training. I don't believe it has an actual name associated with it, but if it did, it would probably be something like: <i>Fear of not finding that 'thing' which you might need when making a comp or prototype.</i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">If you are a designer/artist, I'm sure you can identify with this phobia. Just as an example… lets say you are in the middle of making the most beautiful prototype of a new innovative LEGO carrying box/bag for your product development class, and you just need the perfect latch for it. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">You've looked throughout your studio (bedroom), and can't find it, to then turn for assistance to your mother, who informs you that while she was straightening up (snooping around) your work area (bedroom) she may have misplaced it (thrown it away). </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Faced with this harsh truth, you release an internal scream, because if you actually released the appropriate scream, your mother's ear drums would burst. You then lock yourself away in the bathroom, where you sob quietly into a towel, until you have regained composure. The project is due first thing in the morning (of course), and your teacher is less than understanding of your woes.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">This was just an example… of course (wink, wink).</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Over the years I've learned to apply the philosophy of <i>"If you have to think whether you need the object you are holding in your hand, then you don't. Throw it away."</i> The great Creative Director, <a href="http://openmedia.tv/?page_id=327">Carlos Castro Saura</a>, planted this little gem in my head a long, long time ago when I interned as a then, very 'green' designer, at his company in Caracas, Venezuela. Even with this valuable lesson, I still have a hard time parting with certain items. I guess, had it not been for Carlos, I may very well be featured on a reality TV show for all the wrong reasons.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Since moving to Australia with a container full of everything and anything which my family has accumulated over the years, I have carefully and painstakingly discarded a great deal of the hard-to-part-with items. Some have contributed to the rise of the local garbage heap, and others have been 'adopted' by loving families.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Now, I'm at the stage of actually categorising, stowing and displaying whatever is left, so I'm actually in a very good place. I am getting myself organised. Did you read that? O-R-G-A-N-I-S-E-D… oh yeah baby! I am getting my act together. Woo hoo!!!</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">So, while not even looking, I stumbled upon some simple, inexpensive and creative ways of displaying and organising (there goes that word again, so cool) my belongings.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Today's theme has been named: <b>If you can't store it, frame it.</b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX1de05dPyPxbuXPB_-eVRS6k0uccxhBIaA1yX0gQKFi9Pdj-fix7DuZc70d2oSIY4HMwY53xG6vWP5EzBKzVANB8vRg4eT4ew2Qk_YjOqRjTwOX923l90yMz7wW7ws-JhrKdUa9K-ynmj/s1600/Screen+Shot+2012-02-08+at+10.10.54+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX1de05dPyPxbuXPB_-eVRS6k0uccxhBIaA1yX0gQKFi9Pdj-fix7DuZc70d2oSIY4HMwY53xG6vWP5EzBKzVANB8vRg4eT4ew2Qk_YjOqRjTwOX923l90yMz7wW7ws-JhrKdUa9K-ynmj/s400/Screen+Shot+2012-02-08+at+10.10.54+PM.png" width="266" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Lucida Grande'; text-decoration: underline;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/taliachristine/5420456821/">Clothespin Frame</a></span><span style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Lucida Grande';"> </span> All rights reserved by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/taliachristine/">taliachristine</a></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">I love how these photos are showcased creatively. This appears to be relatively easy to make, so it should be a nice afternoon project over the weekend, for me and the girls. They'll be happy to get crackin' on this, since they went photo crazy back in the States oner Christmas break, and they can show off their pics to their friends when they come over.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Now, who doesn't have costume jewellery lying around on the dresser, or hidden away in a drawer? Why not have them at hand, so to actually wear them every once in a while. You know what they say, "out of sight, out of mind." </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">The above weathered frame is similar, but in this case a wire mesh has been installed in the back, to easily hang earrings on it. Again, pretty easy to execute for the crafty folk out there. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">The below frame is more along the photo arranging concept, but still functional.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLoWklWyfdAuv47ZmU3JgxcVEOfO5l3cx2ba9mJJ8AW51gMp0hBrc5yPROF9behdGXOJE9hUwdTcXFaZwNLM6pzcAQ3A27_fq9RUN9Svi4aMYaakK375_tv9o511Ril91-_NaNlDqFwkBL/s1600/Jewelry+picture+frame.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLoWklWyfdAuv47ZmU3JgxcVEOfO5l3cx2ba9mJJ8AW51gMp0hBrc5yPROF9behdGXOJE9hUwdTcXFaZwNLM6pzcAQ3A27_fq9RUN9Svi4aMYaakK375_tv9o511Ril91-_NaNlDqFwkBL/s400/Jewelry+picture+frame.JPG" width="307" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">This should be fun to tackle over the weekend, and not too expensive to make. I will post pictures if I'm proud of the creations, and if not, maybe I'll save them for later, just in case I have a special project (haha)... old habits die hard.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">My next obstacle should be to attempt to categorise the army of shoes which patiently awaits my family's feet's affections, in the laundry room. If anyone has some cool ideas and suggestions for this endeavour, do share. I am open to suggestions, no matter the complexity or simplicity.</span></div>
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</div>gordavihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01525386549181253537noreply@blogger.com2Melbourne VIC, Australia-37.8131869 144.9629796-37.8382759 144.92349760000002 -37.7880979 145.0024616tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8488611582317396889.post-90959892189701538692012-02-03T14:04:00.001-08:002012-02-06T14:54:46.751-08:00Two months later<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjggShAiGq3HsFpr4wbWTCF5CAPSFJWN1jF-5SH-W2JOWGei5G3O7rGW8hs2m7rgyd0GLUcYf7dUbfTSg7daQfD8c1I6hR7e4Ma_YZKK2olWFBZZKwZT6bw8nSzvdV9PMwqGU-V_wwzAzo/s320/TravelMedicineSuitcase.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjggShAiGq3HsFpr4wbWTCF5CAPSFJWN1jF-5SH-W2JOWGei5G3O7rGW8hs2m7rgyd0GLUcYf7dUbfTSg7daQfD8c1I6hR7e4Ma_YZKK2olWFBZZKwZT6bw8nSzvdV9PMwqGU-V_wwzAzo/s200/TravelMedicineSuitcase.jpg" width="198" /></a></div>My family and I leaped over the Pacific Ocean to the US this last November, and just came back two nights ago. <br />
<div><br />
</div><div>It has been wonderful to re-connect with family (some whom were not in great health unfortunately - get better) and experience the great tourist sites of New York, Washington D.C., Florida and California... a true adventure for both kids and adults, but now we are home. Did I say 'home'? Yup, Australia feels like home now. I'm reminded of the Marvin Gay song <a href="http://www.lyricsmania.com/wherever_i_lay_my_hat_thats_my_home_lyrics_marvin_gaye.html">'Where ever I lay my hat (I call home)'</a> also made popular in the 80s by <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b-Qv8SYYat4&feature=related">Paul Young</a>.<br />
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</div><div>This experience has made me realise that we could live anywhere in the world, and that we travel so great together. Not one whine, not one complaint... OK maybe one, but... we were all on one page, and truly enjoyed our time together, and all the while working remotely on Australia time, making it for some extremely long days, and odd weekends (Thursday in US = Friday in AU, and Sunday in US = Monday in AU). </div><div><br />
So...lesson learned? Go more often and stay shorter time. Do not pack even half...NO, not even one quarter the suitcases we packed this time around (do I never learn?). Be honest when declaring contents in luggage, as you will probably (fingers crossed) not be taken aside and checked out for "illegal" foods/animals/wood/etc...and, ask politely of the traveling rugby team players, to help with the heavy bags, and most likely they'll do it...they did for me. God bless the NZ Chiefs! Such good guys. <br />
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It's great to travel, and wonderful to come home again.</div></div></div>gordavihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01525386549181253537noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8488611582317396889.post-91702054459050753832011-11-20T02:30:00.002-08:002012-02-06T15:13:35.976-08:00And why are all these points sooo bad?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://blog.byfriday.com.au/wp-content/uploads/2012/01/graphic-design2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="196" src="http://blog.byfriday.com.au/wp-content/uploads/2012/01/graphic-design2.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>I found this list on Twitter, but had to post it on my blog because... it applies to me almost 100%.<br />
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My husband doesn't get me either...he should have read this list before he married me. Alas, now he is stuck with my 'weird' self, studying patterns in his shirts, comparing the minute differences between Arial and Helvetica, and getting all agitated over it. <br />
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Why is this SO bad? I could be cut from the same cloth as everyone else, eating not so tastebud simulating foods and listening to ordinary music. Nah!<br />
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Originally here: http://t.co/koWYu6rG<br />
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50 reasons not to date a graphic designer<br />
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1. They are very weird people.<br />
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2. There are billions of them in the world, like colors on the screen of your computer.<br />
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3. They will analyse conversations in layers.<br />
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4. You will spend the day assembling furniture from IKEA.<br />
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5. They drink and eat all kinds of weird shit just because they like the packaging.<br />
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6. They hate each other.<br />
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7. You’ll come out the last out of the movies because you have to see the full list of credits.<br />
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8. They cant change a light bulb or without making a sketch.<br />
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9. They fuck up all the tables with their cutters.<br />
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10. They rather study the paisley pattern on your outfit than listen to what you have to say.<br />
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11. They will fill your house with magazines and whatever is out there that has drawings.<br />
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12. You never know if it is really an original or a copy.<br />
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13. They make collages with your photos.<br />
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14. They do not know how to add and subtract, they just understand letters.<br />
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15. They idolize people who nobody knows and speak of them as if they were his colleagues.<br />
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16. They take pictures almost daily and all are cut in weird shapes.<br />
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17. They ask your opinion about everything but they do whatever they want.<br />
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18. Everything is left justified, right or center unless they arrive late.<br />
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19. They hate Comic Sans with the same passion they love Helvetica.<br />
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20. They use iPhone for everything, because everyone has one.<br />
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21. You can not decorate the house without consulting them.<br />
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22. They steal street signs.<br />
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23. Always carry their hands painted with something.<br />
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24. They buy dolls unfinished for them to paint.<br />
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25. Everything becomes something other than what it really is: cards as tickets, cards as …<br />
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26. When arguing, you will be nicknamed like the OSX spinning wheel (not affectionately)<br />
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27. Do not know how to dress without consulting the Pantone book.<br />
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28. They hate Excel.<br />
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29. They read comics.<br />
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30. They want to save the world only with a poster.<br />
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31. You will spend the day brainstorming.<br />
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32. On vacation they will take you to countries that you do not know exist and have no beach.<br />
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33. Museums are their second home.<br />
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34. They know more positions than the Kamasutra.<br />
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35. They can’t go to a restaurant without secretly critiquing the menu design.<br />
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36. They listen to music you have never heard of.<br />
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37. They can´t cook a normal dish, they always have to experiment with new ingredients.<br />
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38. They read rare books: stories of children, Semiotics …<br />
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39. When you are going to tell you something, everyone has read it in their facebook and twitter.<br />
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40. They have own iPods before you knew they existed.<br />
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41. The orgasm they remember is when they heard that Adobe was acquiring Macromedia.<br />
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42. They have their own shops just for them and there are the most expensive in the city.<br />
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43. They want to spend all the money in the Apple Store.<br />
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44. You will never understand their gifts.<br />
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45. They see ordinary objects and laugh.<br />
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46. You wake up in the middle of the night hearim them screaming “When is the deadline?”<br />
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47. They see CMYK and RGB like Neo sees the Matrix.<br />
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48. They dream of the day nobody will make a single change to their designs.<br />
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49. They rather pay for a font than for a special birthday gift.<br />
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50. They are always sleepy because they work 24/7.</div>gordavihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01525386549181253537noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8488611582317396889.post-42686629097823491222011-11-12T06:24:00.001-08:002011-11-12T06:29:01.106-08:00Hamilton IslandA rare opportunity fell into my lap (via a dear friend of mine) to experience Hamilton Island, for a work/holiday.<br /><br />Having been a bit stressed lately, I accepted the offer wholeheartedly, and off we went.<br /><br />I had heard of Hamilton Island, but knew not what to expect. Apparently it looks like Hawaii and it smells like Hawaii, but it's on the Great Barrier Reef, and no ALOHAs are ever extended as a greeting.<br /><br />Our flight from Melbourne was approximately three hours long. We arrived to a microscopic airport, which much to my surprise, had no luggage carousel. When the luggage arrived, we descended on it like ants on a pic nick basket. It was a bit of a pandemonium.<br /><br />The local temperature can be compared to any tropical city in the world...Cartagena, Honolulu, Miami or Denpasar. They all have that common balminess to them, which you experience upon exiting a temperature controlled aircraft.<br /><br />My hair immediately becomes wiry and out of control in all of these places. I must have been a desert Bedouin in another lifetime, for in this current one I cannot be exposed to humidity. My body rebels against it. I absolutely adore the tropics, but my body does not.<br /><br />It's the hair first, then the face (pores produce way too much oil), and eventually the local mosquitos detect my presence and descend on me to feast on my internationally renown 'sweet' blood, marking my flesh up with itchy red welts for the next month or so. There must have been one mosquito somewhere who tasted my blood and sent an email to his buddies around the world, telling them to keep a lookout for me. An almost "top ten best blood"...and I'm number one.<br /><br />My Hamilton Island adventure thus far (thank God all mighty) has been mosquito free. Almost too good to be true, and I have not spritzed one drop of mosquito repellant. Go figure. However, the hair is beyond repair and my face shines from a mile away, I'm sure light can be reflected off it at night to act like a lighthouse.<br /><br />The island is lush and very green; apparently 75% of the island is bush land and it is intended to remain that way. The tallest buildings are hotels, but they are a far cry from Honolulu's skyscrapers, which allows for the nature to outshine the man made structures.<br /><br />There is a quaint marina, with the strip of shops and restaurants. The restaurants are beyond expensive, unfortunately, so I have opted to cook most of my meals.<br /><br />There are no true locals. Most people living here are from other parts of Australia, brought to the island to work in the tourist industry. They are for the most part friendly and helpful, all except one...there always is one, isn't there? The free shuttle bus driver lady...she is a little 'challenging', to say the least. I've attempted to engage her in conversation, to no avail. On the other hand, the night bus driver is super friendly, and plays Elvis music ALL the time. The foreign tourists absolutely love him! His bus can be heard blocks away, because of the roaring laughter from its passengers.<br /><br />As this is a work holiday, I've been dutifully working wherever I can find free WiFi. My favorite hot spot has been the Reef Lounge, a large open area with comfortable rattan chairs spread throughout. I sit in the same spot, see the same bartender and wave at little kids who wonder in with their folks looking for the bathroom and recognize me. My favorite though, is the daily group of newly arrived Japanese tourists and their guide.<br /><br />Around 10:00am each morning, a soft spoken young Japanese woman (different each day), brings in about a dozen Japanese couples, and she begins her presentation. I don't understand Japanese, but because I've heard the instructional speech several times so far, I've been able to decipher the word 'restaurant' and 'buggy'. I'm sure she lists the restaurants in the marina, then warns them of the rogue buggies. <div><br />There are approximately 1,500 golf buggies on the island - this according to my Elvis aficionado bus driver - and all road rules which apply to regular cars, do also to the gulf buggies. They seem innocent enough, but apparently folks drink quite a bit, and accidents happen. I don't doubt it...I've heard lots of spine chilling screeches of sudden breaks being applied. I know that, if i see one on the road, I run for cover. But, buggies are better than cars, since they don't produce toxic exhaust fumes...so, I give the idea a great big thumbs up.<br /><br />Cockatoos are native to Australia, and I think they have found their ideal paradise here on Hamilton Island. They are everywhere! The reception desk girl actually warned us about them, stating that we should always close our balcony doors before leaving our rooms. The cockatoos have been known to wonder into the hotel rooms looking for food and completely trash it. As many as 40 cockatoos have been found in one room, going at pillows, drapes, whatever they can destroy, they do. They are the 'rock stars' of the animal kingdom.<br /><br />The water surrounding the island is crystal clear, turquoise blue. Breathtaking! The tide goes out toward the evening and families go sea shell scavenging.<br /><br />I haven't ventured to the actual coral reef yet, because of <a href="http://gordavi.blogspot.com/2011/10/i-found-australia-i-was-looking-for.html?m=1">my unfortunate experience on a boat while in Apollo Bay back in October</a>, but if I find a really big boat, I'll go.<br /><br />My take on this celebrated island is, that it is what Hawaii (Honolulu) may have been 40 years ago. Hamilton Island is tranquil, natural, quaint and family friendly. It's definitely worth coming back with the kids some day, even if no one says ALOHA to us.<br /><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikQ7P6NxfaTqebD0_6gyhgX0sor3mPYM8_9fH8FX4RtCNIbYH0rcBUxMuZud7hhhsiF-3WkKlTHR5BX_OKA_CQd_7FC_bR_b6XhHiENVC2miAA97DFCIV8YEwxKxmvLc9d_o4Hu3_TBqY1/s640/blogger-image--135863609.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikQ7P6NxfaTqebD0_6gyhgX0sor3mPYM8_9fH8FX4RtCNIbYH0rcBUxMuZud7hhhsiF-3WkKlTHR5BX_OKA_CQd_7FC_bR_b6XhHiENVC2miAA97DFCIV8YEwxKxmvLc9d_o4Hu3_TBqY1/s640/blogger-image--135863609.jpg" /></a></div></div>gordavihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01525386549181253537noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8488611582317396889.post-78658355663661573192011-10-14T15:20:00.001-07:002011-11-12T05:10:31.401-08:00I found the Australia I was looking forWhen I arrived to the land of Oz nearly four years ago, I must admit that I was a wee bit disappointed. Where were the beautiful beaches? The Aussie twang? The kangaroos?<br /><br />I admit that all my years of preconceived expectations of a land I had never set foot on, fed to me by movies and Fosters beer commercials was difficult to shed, and much like many Americans before me, I wanted to see all the stereotypes I had 'signed up to to experience' when we made the conscious decision to move to Australia.<br /><br />Alas...my family and I saw no tin roofed outback huts like the ones in the kids claymation TV show Koala Brothers; no kangaroos crossed our path (<a href="http://gordavi.blogspot.com/2011/05/finally-kangaroos-in-wild.html?m=1">until this year</a>); no one even said "g'day" to me until i visited Queensland. Was I disappointed? Fer darn skippy I was!<br /><br />As time passed, so too I began to notice Aussie jewels which I had been looking for. One by one I have been collecting and storing them in my memory banks and snapping pictures of the physical ones, so to almost document their existence. I sill haven't seen an outback tin roofed hut, but I'm sure eventually I will...but I have watched a documentary about beer in Australia (quite interesting) and found out that Fosters is only one brand of literally thousands of Aussie beers, but because of Paul Hogan's 80s TV commercials, it gained huge popularity in the UK and US, making it THE 'Australian beer'...I've yet to find it on the shelves here, by the way.<br /><br />I could go on and on...but I'll focus on what I finally found last weekend, which has been truly Australian for me. The Great Ocean Road. Wow!<br /><br />We decided to finally go and see the famous 12 Apostles (huge rocks along side of Victorian coastline by Port Campbell). I wasn't expecting much really. I had seen them in photos and thought..."yeah...they're rocks, no biggie."<br /><br />We drove from Melbourne to Geelong by highway, then from there we took The Great Ocean Road to Apollo Bay. The road is windy and made me very nauseous. Arriving to our hotel was an extremely welcome moment. I was dreading the second half of our journey. "I came to see rocks!?!" I thought to myself.<br /><br />The next day (my birthday) we went on a marvelous four hour fishing trip. A life changing experience, one might even venture in declaring. It convinced me to never ever go on another boat in my life. EVER! I was violently ill the entire time, I was on that 'dingy' of a boat, and we only caught one fish...my youngest fished herself a flathead.<br /><br />Again, the sight of our hotel was a welcome one.<br /><br />Finally, with much trepidation and anxiety, we embarked on our journey to the freakin' rocks!<br /><br />The road was as windy, if not more so, on the way to the Apostles (the hotel manager lied), and I was certain that I was going to lose my lunch once again.<br /><br />Finally, in the hopes to catch some fresh air, I stopped at a little rest area. I noticed people snapping pictures, and heading down some steep steps. Much like lemmings heading to their doom, our little clan followed the others down the stairs, only focusing on NOT falling, and ignoring what was on the beach below.<br /><br />Once at the bottom we were mesmerized, to say the least. The sand was a bright orange, the water a turquoise blue, the waves massive, and wayyyy on the right a majestic rock as large as a NY skyscraper standing...beckoning us.<br /><br />The last time I experienced something like this was when I visited the Grand Canyon for the first time. Simply amazing. Spine chilling even. Yes! I'm not joking.<br /><br />The air smelled sweet and the sea mist, though frizzing my hair out, was also lovely.<br /><br />I was experiencing the Australia from the tourist brochures. That which 'they' promise you to see when you embark down under. Raw natural beauty unparalleled anywhere else on our blue marble.<br /><br />In that moment, I could not stop smiling. I was happy to be in Australia.<br /><br />That feeling was interrupted by: "mommy, I need to go to the bathroom," which we found just half a mile down the road, at the official tourist information, where the great big busses stop, and the hordes of tourists pile out to see the rest of the Apostles.<br /><br />Those...though also majestic and beautiful; their impact was dimmed by the plethora of rude and pushy tourists who were climbing over one another in the quest of the 'perfect' picture of the natural wonders.<br /><br />No worries...I choose to only remember my first glimpse.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL9_naDgZqsfLzp2BvkuIhhjx__9tCaxkTdxZAWofk9L2oTdjlYelQzVq8sQwcv3TEaaZoepgasRcp7DjzWzQXGrjEhn6pC3SyMemaxtjnsC7kGrUZ7duD60bAGss6r9YmUSslavlqEhS9/s640/blogger-image--1402799992.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL9_naDgZqsfLzp2BvkuIhhjx__9tCaxkTdxZAWofk9L2oTdjlYelQzVq8sQwcv3TEaaZoepgasRcp7DjzWzQXGrjEhn6pC3SyMemaxtjnsC7kGrUZ7duD60bAGss6r9YmUSslavlqEhS9/s640/blogger-image--1402799992.jpg" /></a></div>gordavihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01525386549181253537noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8488611582317396889.post-32176052838886748362011-08-31T18:39:00.000-07:002011-08-31T19:12:16.870-07:00My article was quoted online... I'm very happy<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2DEnrs-zEmbzuQxGG2-Df8BDhrnB2nkN4uat6CeTHozgBpQQONFuALvyAQkWaZEmwccHU3RoFWczr4sIa9mTQY_SHAXwJLewQfxtOqmye-fm7cPBeVMRt0R1ujTE7RQWj2Buw2mnqAa1E/s1600/1-09-2011+11-52-27+AM.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 278px; height: 302px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2DEnrs-zEmbzuQxGG2-Df8BDhrnB2nkN4uat6CeTHozgBpQQONFuALvyAQkWaZEmwccHU3RoFWczr4sIa9mTQY_SHAXwJLewQfxtOqmye-fm7cPBeVMRt0R1ujTE7RQWj2Buw2mnqAa1E/s320/1-09-2011+11-52-27+AM.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5647208149281181858" border="0" /></a>
<br /><b>Exposing children to more of the Arts</b>
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<br />OPINION: That which someone else might deem inappropriate for their kids, I might embrace for my children's developmental enrichment.
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<br />In America, from the 40s and well into the 80s, a lot of useful information on the topic of taking care of children, was made available to parents and caregivers via Dr. Benjamin Spock’s <i>The Common Sense Book of Baby and Child Care</i>, who became a sort of ‘guru’ on the subject and people used his book almost like a ‘bible’ when approaching any hurdle with their offspring.
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<br />Though Dr. Spock was an intelligent and reputable pediatrician, he did have some professional opinions which I in particular do not agree with, one of which is the topic of multi-lingual children’s struggle with learning. Because of Dr. Spock’s view/opinion on this subject, thousands of immigrant families in America abandoned their native tongue – believing that their children would not be able to develop to their full potential, due to the ‘handicap’ of having to deal with two languages at a time – and only spoke in English... broken English at best, but definitely <b>only</b> English. In the 90s, in research conducted at the University of California Berkeley, a study confirmed that in the development years (0 – 7) children are capable of learning up to seven languages, at the same level of a mother tongue. Though initially children struggle with having to handle multiple languages, but eventually they master all and retain them – with practice – for life.
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<br />I was fortunate enough – though at the time I dreaded the idea of it – that my parents moved a lot when I was a child, and I picked up a new language wherever we landed next. My parents were fond of the idea that their daughter could switch from Italian to Serbian, and vice versa, so they encouraged me to study more languages, as in their opinion I had the ‘gift’ for language. What I also liked was art and performing, and I was quite good at it, but I was discouraged from that on what seemed a regular basis.
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<br />At first, I was praised for being able to draw pretty pictures, but the first time I expressed a desire to pursue art further than the compulsory art class in the 8th grade, I was told by my father that I should instead look to a ‘real’ career, like a doctor or a lawyer. Gradually the discouragements escalated to comments like: “You’re not that good, and people who tell you that you are, are simply lying to you.” My parents suffered from the stigma – as do people still in some parts of the world and in socio-economical levels – that artists are bound to suffer, and will never be able to put food on their family’s table.
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<br />Eventually I pushed toward my dream of working in the arts hard enough that my parents were supportive of my ambitions, and paid for my degree from Art School, and bragged to their friends that their daughter had become a Graphic Designer (whatever that was), but they bragged, and that’s all that is important.
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<br />Having experienced the hurdles of misinformation about the arts first hand, and still having to prove myself to my parents (“yes, my children do have food on their table, mom”), I vowed that I would introduce my children to art from infancy. They might not know what the hell they were looking at, listening to or touching, but they were going to experience great museums, hole-in-the wall galleries, theatre or street performances, symphonies or a steel drum bands, whatever was ‘wow’ producing or for that matter ‘groan’ extruding, my kids were going to live and breathe it, so that they became familiar with that part of the world, which lies in the shadows because of a certain ‘shame’ which has been imposed upon it by people who don’t know or don’t wish to know any better.
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<br />Armed with information from Psychology Today – among other sources – I have become a one woman crusader for the Arts and its impact on children’s development. i.e.: According to the Association for Psychological Science, intelligence test scores grew higher in children who took lessons in keyboarding or singing. In another study, boys between the ages of 6 and 15 who took music lessons scored higher on tests of verbal memory than a control group of students without musical training. (Source <a href="http://psychology.suite101.com/article.cfm/the_psychology_of_music">Suite101.com</a>)
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<br />Another example: Physiologically, the human brain consists of two parts, the left and the right hemisphere. The left brain is used in logical thinking and analytical processes. This is typically what is trained in school work that consists of math, reading and science. The right brain is used in emotional perception, intuition and creativity. It is the right brain that is mainly used when a person is involved in creative endeavours such as making art. It is this part of the brain that typical school environment neglects to train.
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<br />It is shown that when gifted kids solve problems in their areas of giftedness, there is increased electrical activity in both hemispheres. It appears that for the brain to be efficient, the two hemispheres of the brains must work together. (Source: <a href="http://www.raisesmartkid.com/raise-smart-preschool-kid-articles/benefits-of-arts-to-kids.html">Raise Smart Kids</a>)
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<br />My cheat sheets or note cards have not been pulled out very often these days, in the attempt of convincing... or perhaps defending the reason why I insist on exposing my daughters to the right brain world. I have reached a new level of their exposure though, where I am no longer posed the question: “Why do you take them to so many museums?” instead I find myself defending my values, or views on foul language and nudity in the performances I have taken them to lately.
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<br />My daughters are ten, eight and six years old. I realise that too much of even a good thing is not healthy for their growing and pliable little brains, so obviously the ‘bad things’ are worse for them, right? I admit that my point of view may be perceived as a little skewed, by some, but my father’s advice stands true – in my opinion – and that is: “everything in moderation is OK”... (he added to that... “it says so in the Bible”).
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<br />Hey! If it is written in the Bible, who am I to go against it? Therefore, I believe that an occasional swear word – which they hear on the school yard anyway – is not necessarily going to make my daughters into habitual foul mouths. For that matter, if a mostly naked man (NEXT WAVE FESTIAL - <i><a href="http://2010.nextwave.org.au/festival/projects/95-comfort-zones">Comfort zones</a></i>) runs across the stage singing a mere three feet from my ten year old daughter, it will not be the end of the world. After all she can go on the Internet, while at her friend’s house, look up porn sites and see plenty worse all the while claiming that she is playing on <a href="http://www.clubpenguin.com/">Club Penguin</a>.
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<br />As my girls grow older, I introduce them to the next level of what I deem appropriate for their maturity level. As their Arts experience ‘bucket’ fills, so they grow more confident about different mediums, and express a desire to see more specific performance pieces, or art exhibitions. I try not to gush with joy, when they meet a famous artist (<a href="http://www.metrogallery.com.au/artists/11/john-olsen/">John Olsen</a> or <a href="http://www.metrogallery.com.au/artists/34/michael-johnson/">Michael Johnson</a>) or when they start explaining to me what the artist envisioned when producing a specific painting, but secretly my heart swells with pride, and I think that I am aiding in the development of a human being who will hopefully be more complete, because of the fact that they have been raised in an Arts environment, and they find it as welcoming as that of Sports, or Sciences.
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<br />They will be able to then choose their path in life, whatever that may be, without ever feeling that they were not given the full spectrum to pick from.
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<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">This article/opinion was published on artsHub.com in May 2010, to read it on the AH site </span><a style="font-style: italic;" href="http://www.artshub.com.au/au/news-article/news/architecture-and-design/exposing-children-to-more-of-the-arts-181355?ref">click here</a><span style="font-style: italic;">.</span>
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<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">I found my article quoted</span><a style="font-style: italic;" href="http://digitaleskimo.tumblr.com/post/638990430/that-which-someone-else-might-deem-inappropriate"> here</a><span style="font-style: italic;">.</span>
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<br />gordavihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01525386549181253537noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8488611582317396889.post-49159615962367569362011-07-30T16:18:00.001-07:002011-07-30T16:19:34.608-07:00Sick once, sick twice, sick three times...what the heck?gordavihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01525386549181253537noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8488611582317396889.post-51028460342802729722011-07-19T04:32:00.000-07:002011-07-19T05:00:56.217-07:00Gold Class at lastI thought I knew comfort. I thought I had experienced the nicer things in life. Well... it seems I have so much more to learn and live, as today was the first time I watched a movie in Gold Class.<br /><br />Australians watch movies just like Americans. They have the same type of cinemas as are often found throughout the 50 US states... same popcorn and sodas too. There are a few things which are different though:<br /><br />1. Specific seats are assigned to you when you purchase the tickets. If you decide to ignore the seat which you have been allotted, chances are that you're going to be asked to move by the person who is supposed to sit there. It's happened to me... by accident. I didn't know about the rule.<br /><br />2. At the refreshments counter, you will not be given a carrying tray for your popcorn, sodas and candy. If you happened to come along with a little army of kids to watch the recent kids' flick, you've got to leave them alone in the cinema while you go back and forth from lobby to cinema, until you have transported all refreshments successfully.<br /><br />3. If you drop your popcorn or soda on the floor, they will not issue you a new one... just 'cause they're nice. You are out of luck and will have to purchase another one, no matter whose fault it is.<br /><br />There is one type of cinema which we do not have in the US... this is the crème de la crème movie theater. This is the Mecca of all picture shows! This is GOLD CLASS.<br /><br />We received five Gold Class movie tickets as a Christmas gift back in December, and we've been saving them for a "special movie"... which seemed to never come along. Until that is... the latest and final installment of the Harry Potter odyssey was announced to be released this July.<br /><br />Oh the joy... oh the anticipation, for both the movie as well as the experience of watching in the comfy arm chairs in Gold Class.<br /><br />We were instructed to arrive at least 30 minutes before the film was to commence, so to enjoy some refreshments in the waiting area. We did as we were told.<br /><br />A handsome young man greeted us at the door, requesting to see our tickets. We were then lead to the lounge area where our orders taken for refreshments and food which was to be consumed in the cinema. The menus were abundant with choices... but leave it to my husband to pick the one thing they were all out of... a Bloody Mary. Then, he asked for a Grey Goose Martini... they were out of Grey Goose too. *SIGH* Alas, all was well with the world when a suitable substitution was found for him... Johnny Walker Black Label Whiskey. Yes! They had that and so much more at this place. When's the last time you went to a cinema and sipped on anything but a Coke or Sprite?<br /><br />Finally a lovely young woman approached us with a smile and told us that she had been assigned to escort us to our seats. That she did. We were like children in a candy store... well... the girls and I were... my husband is too cool to exude any sort of public glee. We played with the seats... pushing them way back to an almost horizontal position (God I wish I had a seat like it in an airplane), lifting the compartment where you are to store your personal belongings, etc. There are 24 seats in total... it's like you're at someone's personal screening room.<br /><br />Finally our food was brought to us about a quarter of the way into the movie. Linen napkins and real silverware instead of sporks. And my eldest daughter discovered the call button on side of her armchair, to beckon the attendant/waiter for additional refreshments.<br /><br />At the end, we paid for our bill, and left extremely satisfied with the entire experience. I wish I could watch all my movies in this lap of luxury. The kids certainly do... that's for sure.<br /><br />Oh... Harry Potter: Deathly Hollows II did not disappoint, I'm glad we saved our Gold Class tickets for it. Now, if anyone wishes to gift us with move Gold Class tickets... there are a couple of birthdays coming up in October which you can plan for.gordavihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01525386549181253537noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8488611582317396889.post-29551036379944627512011-05-26T17:17:00.001-07:002012-02-06T15:15:04.737-08:00Bill Hunter finds a new pub in heaven<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><a href="http://resources2.news.com.au/images/2011/05/22/1226060/615442-11-05-22-bill-hunter.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" height="179" src="http://resources2.news.com.au/images/2011/05/22/1226060/615442-11-05-22-bill-hunter.jpg" style="float: right; height: 145px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 10px; margin-right: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; width: 258px;" width="320" /></a><br />
Before coming to Australia I didn't really know much about its films or actors. There were some I was acquainted with due to the simple fact that I was a bit of a film buff, and I don't mean the obvious films like <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mad_max"><span style="font-style: italic;">Mad Max</span></a> and <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Crocodile_Dundee"><span style="font-style: italic;">Crocodile Dundee</span></a>, but like <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Malcolm_%28film%29"><span style="font-style: italic;">Malcom</span></a> or <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Strictly_Ballroom" style="font-style: italic;">Strictly Ballroom</a>. <span style="font-style: italic;">Ballroom</span> was first a put off for me, because I thought it was going to be yet another dance movie, still riding on the coattails of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dirty_dancing"><span style="font-style: italic;">Dirty Dancing</span></a>, but a good friend recommended it so highly that I had to watch it just to get her off my back. I'm glad that I did, because I fell in love with the movie and the Aussie accent.<br />
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The story was very tongue and cheek and borderline bizarre, but I adored it. All the actors were very much over the top in their acting (except the 'Romeo and Juliet' couple), but the actor who stood out for me was Bill Hunter. He was loud, crass, manipulative, fat and wore a very bad rug. His 'extreme personality' emblazoned itself permanently in my memory.<br />
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I began seeing him everywhere after that first 'encounter'. I loved to hate him in <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Muriel%27s_wedding" style="font-style: italic;">Muriel's Wedding</a>. I found a soft spot for him after experiencing <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Priscilla_Queen_Of_The_Desert"><span style="font-style: italic;">Priscilla Queen of the Desert</span></a>, and hardly recognized him in <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Finding_nemo"><span style="font-style: italic;">Finding Nemo (he was the dentist).</span></a><br />
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When I moved to Melbourne I began to immerse myself into the Arts scene due to my job at ArtsHub, and always secretly hoped that I'd run into Bill Hunter along the way somewhere... at a movie premiere or theater function... or at a pub, since he frequented them quite fondly. I didn't have this luck, but... at least I was living in the same city as he... until...<br />
<a href="http://www.dailytelegraph.com.au/entertainment/bill-hunters-last-after-party/story-e6frewyr-1226063737231"><br />
Actor Bill Hunter passed away last weekend the 21st of May, due to cancer</a>. He will be remembered fondly by so many who knew him personally, and by such like myself who only knew him through his acting. He was the stereotypical 'Aussie bloke', and loved because of this no-nonsense sort of demeanor and earthiness about him. RIP</div>gordavihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01525386549181253537noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8488611582317396889.post-11279176452183908912011-05-01T08:16:00.000-07:002011-05-16T18:40:05.750-07:00Finally kangaroos in the wild.<div>You would think that after almost three years (YES 3) in the 'sunburnt country' I would have seen kangaroos and koalas in the wild... well I haven't. Until this past weekend.<br /><br />While trekking through the Victorian countryside, getting lost at every turn, but enjoying the fresh eucalyptus laden air, I saw out of the corner of my eye what appeared to be a deer leaping across the road. With a quick stomp on my brakes, I stopped my vehicle and felt the adrenaline rush through me. I then realized that the deer was actually a big kangaroo, which by now had jumped over the wire fence edging the road, into the grassy field.<br /><br />I had to squint a bit to make her out, as she had blended well in the beige dry grass, and stood very still... staring at me. My kids could not see her at first, but when they did, they let out a squeal of excitement... then I did too. We were so overjoyed to finally see a real-life roo, in its natural habitat. To the right were two more, playing and bouncing around. We could have stayed in the middle of the dirt road forever, watching them, watching us... but after they had enough of the staring match, the odd little guys disappeared into the bushes.<br /><br />We recanted the story to a local we met in a restaurant, who was amused by our bewilderment. She told us that kangaroos come onto her property all the time, and she has to shoo them away almost like pests. There you go... proof that the grass is always greener on the other side. We are tickled pink by the encounter with a roo, the locals are more miffed by them.<br /><br /><br /></div>gordavihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01525386549181253537noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8488611582317396889.post-82442757441708434162010-11-18T06:09:00.000-08:002010-11-18T06:22:16.957-08:00Tall poppy syndrome?THIS ARTICLE WAS PREVIOUSLY PUBLISHED ON CONANSTEVENS.COM, you can find this article in its original form by clicking <a href="http://www.conanstevens.com/general-stuff/everything-else/tall-poppy-syndrome.html">HERE</a>.<br /><p><br /></p><table style="WIDTH: 100%; mso-cellspacing: 1.5pt; mso-yfti-tbllook: 1184" class="MsoNormalTable" border="0" cellpadding="0" width="100%"><tbody><tr style="mso-yfti-irow: 0; mso-yfti-firstrow: yes; mso-yfti-lastrow: yes"><td style="BORDER-BOTTOM: #d4d0c8; BORDER-LEFT: #d4d0c8; PADDING-BOTTOM: 0.75pt; PADDING-RIGHT: 0.75pt; BORDER-TOP: #d4d0c8; BORDER-RIGHT: #d4d0c8; PADDING-TOP: 0.75pt; BACKGROUND-: 0.75ptcolor:transparent;" ><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 13.5pt; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-outline-level: 1" class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Arial', 'sans-serif'; mso-fareast-language: EN-AU; mso-fareast-: 18.0ptfont-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:12;color:#3973ac;" ></span></b></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 13.5pt; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-outline-level: 1" class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Arial', 'sans-serif'; mso-fareast-language: EN-AU; mso-fareast-: 18.0ptfont-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:12;color:#3973ac;" ></span></b></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 13.5pt; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-outline-level: 1" class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Arial', 'sans-serif'; mso-fareast-language: EN-AU; mso-fareast-: 18.0ptfont-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:12;color:#3973ac;" >Tall Poppy Syndrome <?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" /><o:p></o:p></span></b></p></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 13.5pt; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="DISPLAY: none; FONT-FAMILY: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; mso-hide: all; mso-fareast-: EN-AUfont-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:9;color:#333333;" ><o:p></o:p></span></p><table style="WIDTH: 100%; mso-cellspacing: 1.5pt; mso-yfti-tbllook: 1184" class="MsoNormalTable" border="0" cellpadding="0" width="100%"><tbody><tr style="mso-yfti-irow: 0; mso-yfti-firstrow: yes"><td style="BORDER-BOTTOM: #d4d0c8; BORDER-LEFT: #d4d0c8; PADDING-BOTTOM: 11.25pt; PADDING-RIGHT: 0cm; BORDER-TOP: #d4d0c8; BORDER-RIGHT: #d4d0c8; PADDING-TOP: 0cm; BACKGROUND-: 0cmcolor:transparent;" valign="top" ><p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 6.0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; mso-fareast-: EN-AUfont-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:7;color:#4a87c4;" >Tuesday, 13 November 2007 <o:p></o:p></span></p></td></tr><tr style="mso-yfti-irow: 1; mso-yfti-lastrow: yes"><td style="BORDER-BOTTOM: #d4d0c8; BORDER-LEFT: #d4d0c8; PADDING-BOTTOM: 0.75pt; PADDING-RIGHT: 0.75pt; BORDER-TOP: #d4d0c8; BORDER-RIGHT: #d4d0c8; PADDING-TOP: 0.75pt; BACKGROUND-: 0.75ptcolor:transparent;" valign="top" ><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 13.5pt; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto" class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; mso-fareast-: EN-AUfont-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:9;color:#333333;" >Tall Poppy Syndrome</span></b><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; mso-fareast-: EN-AUfont-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:9;color:#333333;" > is a distinctly </span><u><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Arial', 'sans-serif'; mso-fareast-: EN-AUfont-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:9;color:#339900;" >Australian</span></u><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; mso-fareast-: EN-AUfont-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:9;color:#333333;" > negative trait. It refers to those who get their kicks and sense of self importance by bringing down others who are successful. It can also refer to these same type of people who revel in the misfortunes of these same successful people. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 13.5pt; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto" class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; mso-fareast-: EN-AUfont-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:9;color:#333333;" >Tall Poppy Syndrome</span></b><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; mso-fareast-: EN-AUfont-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:9;color:#333333;" > is such a wide spead trait that even our current Prime Minister felt moved to make this statement: <o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 13.5pt; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto" class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; mso-fareast-: EN-AUfont-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:9;color:#333333;" >"if there’s one thing we need to get rid of in this country it is our tall poppy syndrome."</span></i><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; mso-fareast-: EN-AUfont-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:9;color:#333333;" ><o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="TEXT-ALIGN: right; LINE-HEIGHT: 13.5pt; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="right"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; mso-fareast-: EN-AUfont-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:9;color:#333333;" >- </span><u><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Arial', 'sans-serif'; FONT-SIZE: 9pt; mso-fareast-: EN-AUfont-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:11;color:#339900;" >John Howard</span></u><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; FONT-SIZE: 9pt; mso-fareast-: EN-AUfont-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:11;color:#333333;" > (Australia Prime Minister 1996 - current(2007)) </span><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; mso-fareast-: EN-AUfont-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:9;color:#333333;" ><o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 13.5pt; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; mso-fareast-: EN-AUfont-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:9;color:#333333;" >The <b>Tall Poppy Syndrome </b>refers to the cutting the head off the tallest poppies (in a garden) so that none stand out from the crowd. In human terms it refers to many </span><u><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Arial', 'sans-serif'; mso-fareast-: EN-AUfont-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:9;color:#339900;" >Australians</span></u><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; mso-fareast-: EN-AUfont-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:9;color:#333333;" > wanting to see everyone leveled and for no one to rise and shine. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 13.5pt; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; mso-fareast-: EN-AUfont-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:9;color:#333333;" >You see this in schoolyards where those who excel are picked on and bullied, in workplaces where those who try and want to get ahead are ostracised (socially excluded) and bad mouthed. This leads to a social atmosphere where many do not want to "make waves" or get "too big for their boots" and so succumb to this social thuggery. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 13.5pt; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; mso-fareast-: EN-AUfont-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:9;color:#333333;" >Successful </span><u><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Arial', 'sans-serif'; mso-fareast-: EN-AUfont-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:9;color:#339900;" >entrepreneur</span></u><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; mso-fareast-: EN-AUfont-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:9;color:#333333;" >, Brad Sugars said it this way. What is wrong with Australians? In America I am driving my Cobra down the road, I stop for a guy crossing he looks at the car and says good on you buddy, now in </span><u><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Arial', 'sans-serif'; mso-fareast-: EN-AUfont-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:9;color:#339900;" >Queensland</span></u><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; mso-fareast-: EN-AUfont-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:9;color:#333333;" > Australia I am driving my yellow Ferrari, a guy on the side of the road yells at me Wanker! <o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 13.5pt; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; mso-fareast-: EN-AUfont-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:9;color:#333333;" >Here I would say our <b>Tall Poppy Syndrome</b> sufferer felt threatened that Brad could drive a nice car and reacted abusively/aggressively as animals do when they feel threatened. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 13.5pt; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; mso-fareast-: EN-AUfont-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:9;color:#333333;" >This is one thing that was extremely noticable in America on my trips there, even random strangers build up your </span><u><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Arial', 'sans-serif'; mso-fareast-: EN-AUfont-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:9;color:#339900;" >confidence</span></u><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; mso-fareast-: EN-AUfont-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:9;color:#333333;" >, they cheer you on, tell you that you can do it. When I went to the States to try to get a wrestling contract with WWF/WCW people were congratulating me, telling me I am already there, and that I was going to make it. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 13.5pt; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; mso-fareast-: EN-AUfont-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:9;color:#333333;" >Now contrast this with my own best friends when I was growing up, before I left I spoke with them individually, only one wished me luck, the others said you won't make it then proceeded to tell me every reason why I was not going to make it. Needless to say I never talked to them again - with friends like that who needs enemies.... right? <o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 13.5pt; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto" class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; mso-fareast-: EN-AUfont-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:9;color:#333333;" >Tall Poppy Syndrome</span></b><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; mso-fareast-: EN-AUfont-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:9;color:#333333;" > in action. If I succeeded then it would make them feel like failures, therefore for them it was preferrable if I failed, or even better yet if I never even tried to succeed. They would rather see a life long friend fail so that they feel vindicated (in their lack of "success") rather than cheer on and share in that friends triumph. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 13.5pt; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; mso-fareast-: EN-AUfont-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:9;color:#333333;" >The <b>Tall Poppy Syndrome</b> extends throughout Australian culture to the point that it stifles innovation, excellence and the willingness to give it 100%. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 13.5pt; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; mso-fareast-: EN-AUfont-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:9;color:#333333;" >One quote from an Australian author that I found particularly spot on as a performer was this; <o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 13.5pt; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; mso-fareast-: EN-AUfont-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:9;color:#333333;" >As no one has so far come out publicly against Tall Poppies, their general characteristics can only be guessed at. Here are a few I have managed to ascertain:<br />1. Tall Poppies are just like you and me only more so.<br /><i>2. Tall Poppies never live overseas. If they did, they would be known instead as Aussie Icons*. </i><b></b><br />3. Tall Poppy is the designation Australians give their enemies, just before attempting to destroy them.<br />*Provided, of course, that they still call Australia "home"."<o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="TEXT-ALIGN: right; LINE-HEIGHT: 13.5pt; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="right"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; mso-fareast-: EN-AUfont-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:9;color:#333333;" >- Robert Treborlang <o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 13.5pt; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; mso-fareast-: EN-AUfont-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:9;color:#333333;" >With great restraint I will not write my </span><u><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Arial', 'sans-serif'; mso-fareast-: EN-AUfont-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:9;color:#339900;" >personal</span></u><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; mso-fareast-: EN-AUfont-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:9;color:#333333;" > views on this, it is enough to say that I heartily agree, especially with point #2. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 13.5pt; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; mso-fareast-: EN-AUfont-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:9;color:#333333;" >To get ahead in Australia you must learn to ignore the failures who want to see you fail too, you must learn to ignore the <b>Tall Poppy Syndrome</b> and if you are an entertainer or artist get out and show the rest of the world your talents. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 13.5pt; MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto" class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; mso-fareast-: EN-AUfont-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:9;color:#333333;" >Tall Poppy Syndrome</span></b><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; mso-fareast-: EN-AUfont-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:9;color:#333333;" > sufferers be buggered. <o:p></o:p></span></p></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:'Century', 'serif';"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:'Century', 'serif';"><o:p><br /></p></o:p></span><span style="font-family:'Century', 'serif';"><o:p><p><br />COMMENTS BY GORDANA:</o:p></span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:'Century', 'serif';"><o:p>I have witnessed and experienced the 'Tall poppy syndrome', and it is something which is often used as an excuse to kind of 'nudge' you into a bit of a reality check, but I have noticed that most often the very same people who claim "I'm doing this for your own good, to keep you grounded", are the main offenders of "LOOK AT ME, LOOK AT ME... SEE WHAT I CAN DO, AND HAVE DONE". It can be very discouraging at times to be in the presence of a person of this character trait.</o:p></span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:'Century', 'serif';"><o:p></o:p></span></p>gordavihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01525386549181253537noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8488611582317396889.post-47515803201778777422010-11-11T18:01:00.000-08:002010-11-14T03:46:46.300-08:00Traveling with kids - Port Douglas - a jewel in front of the Great Barrier ReefAsk an Australian about Queensland and, there are always mentions of beautiful white sandy beaches, tropical weather, friendly people, activities galore and of course bugs... lots of bugs. Local mosquitoes are abundant and vicious in their tenacity, so a good repellent is an absolute must in your suitcase and with it, an anti-itch cream or spray.<br /><br />We visited <a href="http://maps.google.com.au/maps?q=port+douglas+queensland&oe=utf-8&rls=org.mozilla:en-US:official&client=firefox-a&um=1&ie=UTF-8&hq=&hnear=Port+Douglas+QLD&gl=au&ei=WsvcTPu0H4XsuAPE542QBA&sa=X&oi=geocode_result&ct=title&resnum=1&ved=0CCYQ8gEwAA">Port Douglas</a>, about an hour’s drive from Cairns. We rented a car, and took off for the little but charming Port Douglas. The road was very good but it was quite curvy, and it be quite the tummy turner, as we experienced unfortunately. A distraction, like a DVD player or a hand-held video game might have been a good thing to bring along.<br /><p class="MsoNormal">Once arrived at your destination, my advice to other globetrotting parents is to:</p> <p class="MsoNormal">ONE - find the grocery store (<a href="http://www.coles.com.au/">Coles</a>); it is conveniently priced, abundantly stocked with Australian and international products, and it stays open until 9pm. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:100%;">TWO - pick up brochures and promotional material for a myriad of tours and attractions available locally.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:100%;">THREE - relax at a cafe and meet the friendly locals, who are more than willing to give you all the 'insider information' about their beloved town.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Our stay in Port Douglas was short, but we made the most of it. We strolled down <a href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/2/20/Port_douglas_qld_australia.jpg">Four Mile</a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" face="arial"><a href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/2/20/Port_douglas_qld_australia.jpg"><span style="font-size:100%;"></span></a><span style="font-size:100%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 178px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQCJZ_DSX8zDYSLnZHfJTQy-4tkX6pCP6YAFlazhmG5hjJyE2hwo3BnHoQUsKsolhLICANTScJp6XLk-ZI6qvSchcqAyKewxqg5CQyV8-IeURhh9F-YXPIYkANM217GdkXOhPpsQ4El3_E/s320/petting+wallabee.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5538479113125135426" border="0" /></a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><a href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/2/20/Port_douglas_qld_australia.jpg"> Beach</a>, lo<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRIzn5vywI1dgAerC5JQvk90nHFGF_XrJf5pVetRdJifw-5GolabSWoopKgxj5Tlbc4tQlNd1UN6R_7lpmHQyIhkjsUFZa_ioytmQRRy7BCQOILKMW4M4ndXTHVXObn8BAxi70HRsgKSsO/s1600/kiki.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 146px; height: 154px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRIzn5vywI1dgAerC5JQvk90nHFGF_XrJf5pVetRdJifw-5GolabSWoopKgxj5Tlbc4tQlNd1UN6R_7lpmHQyIhkjsUFZa_ioytmQRRy7BCQOILKMW4M4ndXTHVXObn8BAxi70HRsgKSsO/s320/kiki.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5538478063664157170" border="0" /></a>oking for seashells and visited the <a href="http://www.rainforesthabitat.com.au/">Wildlife Habitat</a>, which is truly a gem of a zoo. AU$110 paid for one adult and three kids' tickets (three days), including an all you can eat lunch buffet (one day) and photo opportunity with the Habitat's Lorikeets… an amazing deal! Inside the Habitat, we had a chance to feed kangaroos and wallabies... a truly once in a lifetime experience.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS1YAUSD_NTUpUY1HpetW7CSRKWfZ0xl7sB3O3ertczSt2EETtMNaI7qz7PXksF_EE_U0CApjDxQrvlm1X-Owyj-7G8dz4Vr0dOyikypEc0glvX-nreRY6eLzSmMT6Yoea7-ZUUF4It1mY/s1600/sasha+and+lorekeet.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 155px; height: 125px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS1YAUSD_NTUpUY1HpetW7CSRKWfZ0xl7sB3O3ertczSt2EETtMNaI7qz7PXksF_EE_U0CApjDxQrvlm1X-Owyj-7G8dz4Vr0dOyikypEc0glvX-nreRY6eLzSmMT6Yoea7-ZUUF4It1mY/s320/sasha+and+lorekeet.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5538478059571897698" border="0" /></a>Port Douglas is on my list to re-visit very soon.</span></p>gordavihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01525386549181253537noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8488611582317396889.post-66835084918380979662010-11-03T05:31:00.000-07:002010-11-03T06:17:39.103-07:00Four seasons in one day<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTcFgbR15yLPMaWwCFXoyVdxfw43-etyGv5c0HyComqcuCfzM6-0t4Gxyh-gvXCe3iOmB5GG_gIqJwVOL4RW1M9Vqb6Qnn6l9h9JSb0djtN-Z9ZjdpktdpwTqW28FHFa_QBEYsWeoRGo-8/s1600/waterdrop.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 205px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5535310913177242690" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTcFgbR15yLPMaWwCFXoyVdxfw43-etyGv5c0HyComqcuCfzM6-0t4Gxyh-gvXCe3iOmB5GG_gIqJwVOL4RW1M9Vqb6Qnn6l9h9JSb0djtN-Z9ZjdpktdpwTqW28FHFa_QBEYsWeoRGo-8/s320/waterdrop.jpg" /></a>Melbourne is a city which is very similar to San Francisco. It's a city in love with the Arts, good <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/gordanasphotos/4641734200/">coffee</a> and trams. Its inhabitants pride themselves for being a bit left of center, and enjoy expressing this through their <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/catherineoneil/386116864/">multi-colored hair</a>, odd combinations of clothes and of course ardent opinions and points of view. Melbourne is also famous for having the rare ability of manifesting all four season in one calendar day.<br /><br /><br />The rule of thumb is, wear layers! I was given this advice accompanied with the stern look of 'I'm being very serious'. I chose to ignore the warning/advice at first, but after a few terrible and unexpected puddle dodging and water dancing, I learned my lesson.<br /><br /><br />I kid you not... I have driven into work accompanied by beautiful weather, and while getting my first cup of coffee a 'super stom' has swept in and began pounding our office's tin roof so hard that I was convinced any moment it would literally cave in.<br /><br /><br />Back in March of this year there was a massive storm which hit the city so hard, that the downtown area (here called the CBD) became a criss cross of raging rivers, drowning basements and low level parking garages. I picked up my daughters from Serbian school that day, and on the way home in a record time of 15 minutes, the car was pounded by hail the size of golf balls. We screamed all the way home. In other parts of the city, the hail was even bigger and cars were completely crushed by their impact. Check out <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CIZ8isUaFF8">this footage</a>, it's unbelievable.<br /><br /><br />I have finally gotten into the swing of things, and I travel with several jackets in the back of my car, including an extra pair of shoes, a wrap (my best friend in the 'layers' game) and of course an abundance of umbrellas. Ready for pretty much anything, anytime; I'm practically a Boy Scout, since I live by their motto "Be prepared". I don't have bathing suits in my mobile closet, but I should, since summer is just around the corner... and then, I'll add sunscreen, hats, flip flops (here called thongs, haha), water, etc. etc.<br /><br /><br />Melbourne, Australia = be prepared for anything.gordavihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01525386549181253537noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8488611582317396889.post-19424049405378464072010-10-31T02:53:00.000-07:002010-10-31T04:23:36.844-07:00Anti-Halloween Aussies<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjutwiaq8oTHahydxHccFJpKy_0r9S7zlJ4a2QVVaVgwsQRDBGh_N9F01WDop9KHusr0FDES_zC0LwoVsBzgXeF3FonRDuBufjRDdCWblg0pmEWVJF8mt06R_pJNiUGGuNbxtw0v9pQteS_/s1600/pumpkin.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 235px; height: 235px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjutwiaq8oTHahydxHccFJpKy_0r9S7zlJ4a2QVVaVgwsQRDBGh_N9F01WDop9KHusr0FDES_zC0LwoVsBzgXeF3FonRDuBufjRDdCWblg0pmEWVJF8mt06R_pJNiUGGuNbxtw0v9pQteS_/s320/pumpkin.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5534166091197578994" border="0" /></a>Halloween decorations in the U.S. consist of golden and amber colors representing the foliage of Fall. Orange pumpkins and gourds adorn tables and porches, as the smell of caramel apples, pumpkin pies and candy corn permeate the air. All of these press certain buttons (so to speak), in children of all ages, which cause for an uncontrollable excitement to creep up in them, and thoughts of dressing up begin to invade their minds. "What are you going to be this year?" is a commonly heard question in schools and playgrounds.<br /><br />October 31st falls smack dab in the middle of Spring in the southern hemisphere. Flowers bloom, birds mate and people suffer from hay fever. But, even if it were Fall, Australia is 'a baby' in the whole game of Halloween. People know of the holiday because of TV and films, and I'm sure Aussie kids must have been wishing long and hard for the 'dress up, candy holiday' would hit Australian shores and take off in viral popularity, because if my daughters' school friends are any indication of the average Australian kid, I'd say that this is very much the case.<br /><br />Our first trick-or-treating experience in Australia was in 2008. A hand full of little girls, all dressed as witches (they're still new at this... they don't know that the costume possibilities are endless) invited my daughters to attack specially marked houses in their neighborhood, and shyly request 'lollies' from their neighbors.<br /><br />It was very cute.<br /><br />I trained the girls to say "trick-or-treat" when knocking at the door, and to ask for candy (assertively). Some people, even though they had marked their house to welcome the little ghouls that night, ran out of sweet treats; they simply were not well prepared for the avalanche of kids. I told my group that in this circumstance, we were almost 'allowed' to egg these people's houses; explaining the reason for "trick or treat" = "we will spare you a trick on your house, if you give us a treat". As the girls got very excited about the prospect of trashing someone's house with eggs (it didn't take much to get them roweled up - a bit scary), I had to calm them down, and explain that only 'naughty' children do that in America, so... NO! We would not be doing this.<br /><br />In 2009 we persisted in our 'attack' of the neighborhood, and even found a gem - an apartment complex - where people were super excited to have trick-or-treaters, come knocking.<br /><br />This year we noticed that the two large supermarket chains (Coles and Woolworth) had orange pumpkins, eyeball candies, party plates and costumes-a-plenty. I think that <a href="http://www.smh.com.au/national/were-scaring-ourselves-silly-20101030-1786b.html?from=smh_sb">someone in marketing must have sensed that the kids of Australia were ready for Halloween</a> and money could be made for the stores.<br /><br />My family and I have been counting down the days to the 31st. We even planned a great big party with fun activities. Then... the rain came in, and destroyed all hopes of any of it.<br /><br />So, here I am, listening to the rain bombard the roof of my house, and sighing in disappointment that we could not venture out in the night, with our jack-o-lantern candy buckets, showing off our creative costumes (baby Gaga, Katy Perry, she-devil and a clown). I thought of finding a place indoors where my girls could enjoy some games and fun food, in the spirit of all hallows eve, and as I Googled "things to do in Melbourne on Halloween", I came across some rather negative posts about the holiday. Here's an example from Yahoo Answers:<br /><br />"This isn't America and we don't want to be like America so we don't do the halloween thing here. What sort of irresponsible parent would let their kids go knocking on the doors of complete strangers anyway? Have you considered there could be pedophiles behind any of those doors waiting to grab your child?<br /><br />I also think it is completely wrong allowing a child to wander the streets begging for lollies. It is a joke. I have even seen kids who haven't dressed up just walking around with a bag scabbing food from people. I really hope Australia wakes up soon and bans this American junk."<br /><br />This was just one, of several comments like it, that i came across. I was a little bummed out about it. It reminded me of the many times I was told by my father that "insert pretty much any Western holiday here" was not 'our people's, so we didn't <span style="font-weight: bold;">do</span> that'. At the risk of being labeled a 'globalist' and attempting to homogenize the world, I thought I'd say: Hey! If it's not hurting the child, why not let him/her celebrate <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Festivus">Festivus</a>... who cares! Spread joy around the world. Propagate fun in life. Why is it 'bad' to celebrate "an American holiday"?<br /><br />I'm glad I will be doing my part in spreading the joy of Halloween, one week late (we re-scheduled our party for next weekend due to the rain out). This year apparently 20% of the Australian population planned to celebrate Halloween... I'm going to campaign hard for next year... to make it 100%... mwahahahahahahahah!!!!gordavihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01525386549181253537noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8488611582317396889.post-12912440885964612382010-10-02T06:25:00.000-07:002010-10-02T07:41:02.660-07:00The Footy and Me<span style="font-size:100%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9SHrCb131yUHd2IYzvckbq53y5MXnFrVjqJPBjl3YFXjoy3cCXmgEu8KXUC1Ti1KSojgv67agN92xBDnJIpxAx-t_o3u71tOigWsTxjdLEKy8Vbzf9NNTfpni8pm4uSc7iKrSs_fu3uj3/s1600/200px-2006_AFL_Collingwood.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 262px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9SHrCb131yUHd2IYzvckbq53y5MXnFrVjqJPBjl3YFXjoy3cCXmgEu8KXUC1Ti1KSojgv67agN92xBDnJIpxAx-t_o3u71tOigWsTxjdLEKy8Vbzf9NNTfpni8pm4uSc7iKrSs_fu3uj3/s320/200px-2006_AFL_Collingwood.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5523457466470980146" border="0" /></a></span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >When I arrive in a country foreign to me, the first thing I like to do is turn on the TV and start watching local news, commercials, talk shows... whatever comes on I'll watch it. That's how I learned English, when I arrived to the U.S. way back in 1977. I learned vital phrases watching 'Bewitched', 'I dream of Jeanie' and 'Lost in Space'. From Samantha, I learned to say "wellllll..." when something had gone awry and no excuse was good enough; from Jeanie "Yes, master", but to this day I refuse to use it, and Dr. Smith "Help! Somebody help meeee."</span> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >Via this instant mode of social / language immersion, I have learned a lot about the people whose country I vacation or live in. When we arrived in Australia a couple of years ago, I applied myself to the same learning experience. I switched on the TV, and to my joy I realised that we did not have satellite, so we were forced to watch local programs (husband was very upset about this, he missed CNN). That's when I learned about The Footy, watching <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_AFL_Footy_Show"><span style="color:blue;">'The Footy Show'</span></a>.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >Before I go on, I must explain that Australians will refer to a professional sport with a THE before the said sport (e.g.: TENNIS is to be played casually among amateurs and THE TENNIS is played professionally). THE FOOTY is <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Australian_rules_football"><span style="color:blue;">Australian Rules Football</span></a>. This is not Soccer, not Rugby, not even American Football, though their ball resembles the U.S. sport slightly. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >I will not attempt to explain the game to you, as I am not an enthusiast or a follower of any organized sport; I'm not going to scoff at anyone who is... it's just not in my genetic makeup to be into sports. I will sit through a session of watching and cheering for a team (oh, by the way... never, ever say ROOT in Australia, as in "root for a team", this word means 'to fornicate' down under), but that's it. Even then, I will watch the athletes run, admire the design of their uniforms, wonder why certain colors were chosen for that particular team, and comment on the grass being a lush and vibrant green, but during that whole time, I will be oblivious to the score or the status of each team playing.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >'The Footy Show' was loud, brimming with testosterone and they spoke a language totally unfamiliar to me, all about scores, plays etc., and I don't mean the Aussie accent laden English, assuring me that I would not be watching it a second time. That night I became aware of the most followed national game, set it aside in my memory banks and promised myself to pursue further knowledge on the subject, so to be better informed about my new home-country and its inhabitants.<br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >During the time I have lived in Melbourne, plenty of people have volunteered to educate me about The Footy, and I have tried, really tried to understand it, alas... I have tossed my towel in, and given up on all hopes of grasping it. I can tell you that it is played on an oval shaped grassy area, the players are incredibly fit, handsome (they really are), don't wear padding and are often caught in sexual scandals... some incredibly scandalous affairs at that, but are still HEROES in the eyes of their devoted followers, and I might add that they are kind of "excused" by the adoring public with comments like: <span style="font-style: italic;">"that's how those guys are... you know... they're just stupid, fit, handsome guys, who have women throw themselves at them"</span>... which is probably true, but...<br /></span></p><span style="font-size:100%;"><br />...moving right along... </span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >Another interesting bit about the teams is that, each team represents a "type" of person. I'll be honest and admit that I don't remember them all, but one description or stereotype in particular, I was told about stands out. A local friend explained to us that we should at not time <span style="font-weight: bold;">ever</span> become fans of the Collingwood Football Club, also referred to as The Magpies (a <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Magpie">Magpie</a> is a black and white bird,</span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" > indigenous to AU,</span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" > whose colors now represent the team).</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >He went on to give many reasons but the one which was most memorable was the fact that - in his words: <i style="font-style: italic;">"Collingwood supporters are, what you would call <span style="font-weight: bold;">knuckle draggers</span>.</i><span style="font-style: italic;">"</span> As I don't follow any team, I didn't care about his comment, and as I knew no one who was a supporter of the Collingwood team, it mattered even less to me. And then the unthinkable happened... my daughters, out of the blue, started to cheer for Collingwood. What's a mother to do? Let them, of course. Why was I going to let the <i>"knuckle draggers"</i> comment influence me?</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >Actually, I realised a couple of months back that most of my co-workers are Collingwood supporters, and they are all lovely and very well educated, artsy people... so the <i>"knuckle dragger"</i> stereotype is tossed out the window for good now.<br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >Here's a real 'titty twister' for my 'Collingwood hater' friend: Collingwood won the Grand Final this year (it's like the Super Bowl). In yer face mate!</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >Though it may appear on the surface that I have become passionate about a sport, I will deny it to the grave... I’m only supporting my daughters’ new found love of sport, and if they choose to go for (be fans of) Collingwood, well doggone-it I back their decision 110%.<br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >An excerpt from an article about the win:</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><a href="http://ibnlive.in.com/generalnewsfeed/news/collingwood-wins-afl-premiership/371418.html"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style=";font-family:";" >Collingwood wins AFL premiership</span></span></a></span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" ><br />AP | 07:24 AM,Oct 02,2010 </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >MELBOURNE, Australia (AP) — Collingwood won the Australian Football League premiership by crushing St. Kilda 16.12 (108) to 7.10 (52) in Saturday's rare grand final replay.After the teams drew last week — only the third drawn grand final in the history of the Australian Rules competition and first since 1977 — the Magpies left nothing to chance in the replay.</span></p>gordavihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01525386549181253537noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8488611582317396889.post-81725692933795393442010-09-30T07:08:00.000-07:002010-09-30T07:42:02.558-07:00Rubbing alcohol MIA in Australia<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7C24zGwPfZGlsodcBmha9ONrwmHjzBqSeJtweEAkCpv4xQvb7D6_NWQ1-LKmi9wyKxFGKTWTiztkmWiYxatnCo5C8KjXRqdfCptjs0_AwpTl0TSYbB6_faVN0V7x6wqgC0yb1eN3wPbyj/s1600/Rubbing+alcohol.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 279px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7C24zGwPfZGlsodcBmha9ONrwmHjzBqSeJtweEAkCpv4xQvb7D6_NWQ1-LKmi9wyKxFGKTWTiztkmWiYxatnCo5C8KjXRqdfCptjs0_AwpTl0TSYbB6_faVN0V7x6wqgC0yb1eN3wPbyj/s320/Rubbing+alcohol.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5522716681867731826" border="0" /></a>My youngest daughter found a mini battery operated hand-held fan, which I bought her last time we were in the US, and desperately (the way only little ones can obsess about something) needed to make it work again. The weather had clearly turned from 'coat wearing' season to tropical 'bikini heat' over night in Melbourne, and the poor child needed to cool herself down, or... God knows what would happen. So we embarked on a mission to find and purchase triple A batteries.<br /><br />"Easy" you say? Not as easy as you would think.... but, eventually we found some. The salesperson was kind enough to open the little device - it was screwed shut, and we didn't have a screwdriver - and put the batteries in. 'Click, click'... nothing happened. You could see my daughter's disappointment take over her face, and cause for her jaw to drop and let out an involuntary *sigh* and a stern stomp of the foot on the floor. The young woman helping us, opened the fan again, and looked around the area where the batteries normally sit, as if she was a luxury car mechanic investigating a 'funny' noise under the hood. 'Click, click' she attempted to turn the fan on again, but to no avail. "Ahhh, here's the problem" she commented, "the batteries corroded and the connection does not work," she finally concluded. "You should buy some alcohol, and with a cotton ball wipe the connectors, and install the batteries again. It will work for sure."<br /><br />We thanked her, and went on our way to buy a bottle of simple, household rubbing alcohol.<br /><br />I knew of a drugstore just around the corner; surely they would have it. "No!" Said the woman at the cash register. "Try a chemist." (That's a Pharmacy for us Yanks).<br /><br />As I know very well my daughter's passionate need to get what she wants (actually all three are quite determined, when they set their minds to something), I knew that by sunset, I'd better have bought some rubbing alcohol or I would not hear the end of it from her.<br /><br />In search of a chemist we went.<br /><br />Close to home... a good four, or so miles away from where we began our journey, and about four dozen "are we there yet?" later, we finally walked through the automatic doors of our local pharmacist.<br /><br />Immediately, a smiling young woman approached us and offered to steer us in the direction of the item we were after. I expressed a wish to purchase a simple, and small bottle of rubbing alcohol. The smile became a slightly concerned look. Then she turned to her manager, and asked what she should do? He in turn looked equally as concerned, and... I guess... having heard our American accents, assumed we were looking to buy rubbing alcohol for 'normal' reasons. He then explained that they did not carry bottles of alcohol... as a matter of fact it was probably not going to be something we could just pick up at the local pharmacy or grocery store, instead we could purchase alcohol wipes, in packs of 50.<br /><br />It took me a moment, to process this. (Years of bleaching my hair must have finally taken its toll on my brain... sigh.) I turned to the manager and asked: "Is it because people drink it?" He didn't reply, but his head nodded in agreement, to which my middle daughter let out a loud: "People drink it?!?" I explained to her later, why this would be the case.<br /><br />So, a simple journey to buy batteries became yet another learning experience for us, in the land of Oz. Rubbing alcohol is considered "not safe" to have around the house and easily accessible, but Codeine is perfectly OK to sell over the counter... whereas in the US, we need a prescription for it. I need to do a bit of research and find what else is legal, or not. It should be fun. I will report later.gordavihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01525386549181253537noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8488611582317396889.post-6254718865039797642010-08-29T17:40:00.000-07:002010-08-29T18:29:13.086-07:00And just as the office got warm...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwo37UyeWyuwOvCYkkrkG6khNsrbtQ23HW2He65lWTylS9MTLap7_0CS1FYEFSN9_WE4rHleXhJAVY3XvlV-O9Ej6lLQlClbzM6Tl0pAMT9RG1bBzPlaWkO4WcQ0854x1voHsiKYGH4gtG/s1600/office.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 226px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwo37UyeWyuwOvCYkkrkG6khNsrbtQ23HW2He65lWTylS9MTLap7_0CS1FYEFSN9_WE4rHleXhJAVY3XvlV-O9Ej6lLQlClbzM6Tl0pAMT9RG1bBzPlaWkO4WcQ0854x1voHsiKYGH4gtG/s320/office.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511007142996837634" border="0" /></a>The office I work in is very eclectic, cool, out of the ordinary... it's a top floor loft in the center of Melbourne, surrounded by cute cobble stone paved lanes, and graffiti-ed brick walls. From our windows we have watched as films and commercials (Melbourne is a 'little Hollywood' down under... lots of films are filmed here - apparently <a href="http://www.theage.com.au/entertainment/movies/hollywood-comes-to-paris-end-of-town-de-niro-style-20100706-zyzt.html">Robert De Niro was here filming not too long ago</a>) have been shot below, and we have also watched in amazement as drug addicts shoot up a fix in a doorway. All in all, it's a wonderful and dreadful place... one could say it's a Yin /Yang type of environment to work in.<br /><br />The same can be said of the inside of the office. The light which comes through the large windows is inviting and bright, yet the same large windows are where the majority of the warmth escapes during winter. We have been in full blown winter mode for what seems like forever (the past 5 months), and have become quite accustomed to wearing coats and scarves indoors all of the time, in order to keep even moderately warm. Blue fingernails, and runny noses are the "new trend" among the office staff.<br /><br />I have found the positive in this situation though: I think it's easier to get dressed in the morning because of this. I have adopted a new look... the 'winter uniform.' There is no major planning for this style... a pair of pants, a long sleeved shirt and then on top of it a big warm coat and scarf. Actually, the scarf has been the 'creative' part of the ensemble and its saving grace. I change it according to my mood and makeup choice for the day.<br /><br />One day I will opt to wear a leopard print scarf, another day a lovely red, orange and pink silk number looking like something I may have picked up while trekking in the Himalayas. Ahh, the options are limitless, as I have an abundance of scarves which my aunts have given me throughout the years. I never got rid of them, as I felt guilty in doing so, they stayed folded up in one of my drawers, ever the source of an argument between my hubby and I, as he always thought them to be useless. I mean... he has a point... "if you don't use it, lose it", but I'm now using it.<br /><br />Today, I was ill prepared with my layers of clothing. I don't know what possessed me, but I wore a rather sheer black cotton blouse, which really should be worn in Spring or Summer, under my coat and a light purple plaid scarf with a fringe all around its perimeter... a birthday gift from my aunt in Canada. I thought I'd surely freeze my buns off. Much to my surprise, I walked into a warmer office. It seems that the boss, had several new heaters installed over the weekend. Yippiii!!!! It's only taken five months, and several colds later. But hey! My immune system is stronger because of it, I'm sure of it. One's got to look at the positives in life.<br /><br />Just as the office has become a nice warm environment to work in, a co-worker reminded me that around the corner is the warm weather waiting to hit our tin roofed office, with the large windows. Oh yes, I remember THAT hell, from last summer. Hot beyond belief, and because we kept the back door of the office open to keep a constant draft going, we were 'blessed' with the stale smell of urine coming from the bathroom next door. Maybe this year, we'll find a solution for that little pesky smell.<br /><br />Life is truly a Yin and Yang, isn't it? I will concentrate on the good... "we got heat, we got heat, we got heat". I'll worry about the "OMG it's hot, OMG it's hot" later. Make the best of it, now.gordavihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01525386549181253537noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8488611582317396889.post-91536342184058762362010-08-26T07:00:00.000-07:002010-08-26T19:23:15.276-07:00Flat out like a lizard drinking<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP3V5uyHN4Zkn9VX1okC4hCq8Zt8plPFKIqwA0N2ISbCLkZ9rBjo3DjeGyaUroBbgpgPZUkrLkso4biETqBFm04QVCFFeNSCKKeVmVi-clYzl9l96wp_-YOnIDPGCX6xuUqARB1WIM6ZHT/s1600/flatout.bmp"><img style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 320px; float: left; height: 240px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509731054893797266" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP3V5uyHN4Zkn9VX1okC4hCq8Zt8plPFKIqwA0N2ISbCLkZ9rBjo3DjeGyaUroBbgpgPZUkrLkso4biETqBFm04QVCFFeNSCKKeVmVi-clYzl9l96wp_-YOnIDPGCX6xuUqARB1WIM6ZHT/s320/flatout.bmp" border="0" /></a>It took me a while to get used to the Aussie accent. When one listens to it in a film, what is spoken is a more 'pure' type of accent, but in real life... depending on the individual who is speaking; you can find yourself squinting, and turning your ear toward the person, in attempt of somehow activating the universal translator you think you have in your head, which will aid in the fine tuning of the gibberish which is being uttered in your direction.<br /><div></div><br /><div>Once I acclimated and became comfortable with holding long conversations with Australians, I began hitting another social wall. Sayings... everyday expressions describing a situation with slang. The first one my husband and I were privy in hearing, even before stepping foot on Australian soil, was on i.m. with a future co-worker, who commented on the rarity of a good Chardonnay in the land down under. He wrote: "A good Chardonnay is rarer than hen's teeth." We chuckled at this statement, and even analyzed it a bit. Yes, it is true that hens/chickens do not have teeth, therefore his statement indicated that Chardonnay is VERY rare, one may even venture in stating that it is IMPOSSIBLE to find a good Chardonnay in Australia.<br /><div></div><br />As time progressed, we would compare notes with each other, about who had heard the funniest or most creative expression to date. My husband came home with a good one (in our opinion... but Aussies thought it nothing special); spoken by a re-location expert when my husband stated that we would be interested in either an apartment or a house to rent: "Well! That's just chalk and cheese then." Which left him speechless. Unable to figure out what she meant by the statement, he finally gave in, and asked the woman to explain... she wasn't amused, but explain she did. Apparently it means: "Well! Those are two totally different things." Meaning, CHALK may look like CHEESE but once tasted, you can tell that they're different things.<br /><div></div><br />Though the creative expressions are-a-plenty, it seems that they are considered an endangered species of sorts. TV programs and films from abroad, particularly from the US have become favorites among the masses, and especially the youth; consequently influencing the local language.<br /><div></div><br />The word MATE means BUDDY, but one can hear the ladder just as much as MATE spoken by young people. This has some individuals upset, as they feel that their language is special and merits to be preserved just the way it is. I think this is a valid point, but do think it's also funny that, at the same time as they are demanding to keep their saying alive, they frown upon the people who speak in that manner.<br /><div></div><br />A perfect example is Paul Hogan's character Crocodile Dundee's accent and manner of speaking. The moment that an Ozzie (generally speaking) is reminded of this character from the popular movie by the same name from the 80s, they cringe and scoff at the fact that <strong>anyone</strong> may think that Australians speak like that in real life. Their attitude toward this world-loved character, who has brought more tourists to this continent than anyone else in its history, is shame. It's sad, but true. Shame, that he is the 'poster child' for Australia. Well, I still like you Crocodile Dundee, and I still say... "That's not a <em>noyf </em>(knife)! THIS is a <em>noyf</em>!" as I start chopping my herbs before cooking with my gigantic butcher knife.<br /><div></div><br />I have adopted another beauty of a saying: "I'm flat out like a lizard drinking" meaning "I'm soooooo busy!" Aussies get it, and I feel as if I have just made a statement in Mandarin, and native Chinese people have understood me.</div><div><br /></div><div>Click below to read more about some great expressions, and what people are saying about the endangered Aussie lingo.<br /><div></div><br /><a href="http://www.couriermail.com.au/news/aussie-lingo-in-danger/story-e6freon6-1225713330763">Last hurrah for Australian lingo from long ago</a></div><br /><div><a href="http://www.sunburntcountry.au.com/sayings/aslist.html">Outrageous Aussie Sayings</a></div>gordavihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01525386549181253537noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8488611582317396889.post-67179781368777971552010-08-25T07:12:00.000-07:002010-08-26T19:24:50.927-07:00<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwMcr8FZCRxIgn0EyIxo2TVB6NwrDo9AP7TZrk8cIYjfVNelBW-3mUqWGqzco7QKpRTHBGbSFLOOEaX00dDFlg8EB42D26HV67qtgk_ruI27s3A3NH_KjjUrfKwnisKc5FFVauI4TkO-8N/s1600/Tommy+Visits+the+Doctor.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 179px; float: right; height: 192px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509357513709959282" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwMcr8FZCRxIgn0EyIxo2TVB6NwrDo9AP7TZrk8cIYjfVNelBW-3mUqWGqzco7QKpRTHBGbSFLOOEaX00dDFlg8EB42D26HV67qtgk_ruI27s3A3NH_KjjUrfKwnisKc5FFVauI4TkO-8N/s400/Tommy+Visits+the+Doctor.jpg" border="0" /></a> I read somewhere that you should not make excuses as to why you can't blog; that blogging can be done in 15 minutes. So I thought I'd take their statement as a personal challenge, and attempt to write an interesting blog in a quarter of an hour.... starting... NOW!<br /><br /><div></div><div>Australia being my home for a little over two years now, and my most memorable impression of this large island continent, is that I seem to be always sick. I paid this no major attention when I first arrived as I accredited my ailments to the fact that my body was still getting used to all the new bacteria, viruses etc. Not particularly happy to be inviting these pests into my body, but resigned to the idea that 'what does not kill you, will make you stronger'. It is now officially something which pisses me off... getting sick. I mean, really! How many times is considered normal? When should one say to their family phisician... "what the hell is wrong with this picture? Should I be sick this often?</div><br /><div>I don't know... maybe it's because my mother was (and is) the type of person that, unless your arm is hanging by a thread, she does not take you to the doctor. Side Note: True story... I broke my ankle in High School, and I was not taken to see a doctor until a month after the incident; by then the ankle had healed itself... badly. My mother complained all the way home, at the fact that she had to pay for the pricey X-rays, to only be dissapointed by the final outcome. The doctor said - "we can't do anything about it, except re-break the ankle, without anestesia" to which suggestion I strongly opposed... imagine that! So, back to my reason for not going to the doctor's office when I'm sick... ah yes, it's all my mother's fault. I get a cough, and I think to myself, "it's not a big deal". The bad thing though, is that it could indeed be a serious matter, and if not taken care of it could result in catastrophy.</div><br /><div></div><div>The dillema begins. If I go to the doctor for every little thing, I am labelled a hipochondriac. If I don't go to the doctor at all, I'm labelled as... as... I don't know exactly, what I'm labelled as; perhaps a strong person? Yes, but... if I should suffer a tragic misfortune and lose my life due to a terrible illness, then I will be judged by the people coming to my wake. "Why didn't she seek help?" they will wave their fist to the sky, almost expecting God to give them a reply. (Perhaps I'm being a little melo-dramatic). Go. Don't go. Go. Don't go. What is the right answer?</div><br /><div></div><div>The moral to this story?</div><br /><div></div><div>1. I managed to write something in 15 minutes to post on my blog.</div><br /><div>2. I am a tortured soul, who cannot make up her own mind to save her life.</div><br /><div>3. Perhaps I should see a doctor for this persistent and annoying cough. What do you think? Lets vote, why don't we?</div></div>gordavihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01525386549181253537noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8488611582317396889.post-34345524656468158392009-06-27T07:29:00.000-07:002009-06-27T08:19:39.701-07:00To HAMA, or not to HAMA<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMJiFGle5CYz_LsOxjJvHNNed7saBqd3dOPRIgWtLepVqVTzX4yE5ytH9Kysc-ZjLV2bJ_7gVJSt5ot-zkzLn_PeFTeLfl55JMkU29qIvbcWA_9BiWQCoebJjiC6dM7v1CLkdFsKqAqIFy/s1600-h/hama+bead+creation.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352025940694449314" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 289px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 231px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMJiFGle5CYz_LsOxjJvHNNed7saBqd3dOPRIgWtLepVqVTzX4yE5ytH9Kysc-ZjLV2bJ_7gVJSt5ot-zkzLn_PeFTeLfl55JMkU29qIvbcWA_9BiWQCoebJjiC6dM7v1CLkdFsKqAqIFy/s400/hama+bead+creation.jpg" border="0" /></a>If you have children under the age of 10 you might be familiar with these little guys, the <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M2hlcV56wJk"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">HAMA</span> beads</a>. These are little plastic coloured beads resembling tiny <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">macaroni</span>, which come in a few bright colours (red, orange, yellow, pink, violet, blue, green, brown, white and black).<br /><div></div><br /><br /><div>These colourful beads are sold in tubs of... oh... a gazillion, and are guaranteed to escape the container they initially entered your home in, and feel free to explore your apartment/house from the hidden <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">crevices</span> of your sofa to the bathtub (still can't explain that one). </div><div><br /></div><br /><div>My children initially brought home from school small resin-like works of art, which resembled a plastic mosaic. These began as odd shaped monsters, though my kids insisted they were flowers, cats, fish etc. As I am the 'creative guru' in our family, I try to encourage my <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">off springs</span> to tap into their creative side as much as possible, so even when they bring me smudges of plastic, I '<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">oooh</span>' and '<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">aaahhh</span>' over them with great parental support. By-the-way: I also <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">psycho</span>-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">analise</span> my children via their art; if they bring home smiling, happy, colourful creations, I know they are happy too.</div><br /><br /><div>The little plastic 'monsters' evolved into stars, cars, even jaguars. I got curious as to, how the children created the mosaics, so I asked them to show me, and as they love to teach their parents for a change, they gave me the full tutorial.</div><div></div><br /><br /><div>The plastic pieces used in the children's creations are the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">HAMA</span> beads... 'explorers of the sofa' and 'bathtub <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">archeologists</span>' which I mentioned at the beginning of this particular blog.</div><br /><br /><div>Naively, I agreed to buy a tub of these beads, the trays one uses to compose the 'masterpiece' on - it looks a bit like a miniature <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">fachir's</span> bed of nails - and we would make amazing art, as a family, therefore promoting unity and collaboration.</div><br /><br /><div>Once in the house, the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">HAMAs</span> were put in a tray, and we began to create colourful shapes. My three girls, each working hard on their own tray, and I on my own. My 'mother's heart' swelled with pride and joy.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>A half hour into our project, the girls became bored with the project, and abandoned me with 4 trays to complete (I couldn't <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">dismantle</span> them, the kids would have cried for weeks over them). The projects - yes, all four - took about 3 hours to complete. By the last one - mine of course - I was quite the expert (see photo) and became so enamored by the new art form I had come <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">across</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">accidentally</span>, that now I'm thinking of different ways of further expand the possibilities of this magic <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">HAMA</span> bead.</div><br /><br /><div>The children have <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">proceeded</span> to play with the beads throughout the apartment, stringing them as necklaces and tossing them at <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">each other</span> like pebbles, and thus brings us to how the beads have managed to find their way into the sofa, sock drawer, kitchen sink, pillow case and of course the bathtub. Evil, EVIL <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">HAMA</span> beads! They're taking over my <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19">homeeeee</span>.</div><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Actually, I'm addicted to them now, I can't stop creating with them. They're heaps of fun. Even for us grownups.</div>gordavihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01525386549181253537noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8488611582317396889.post-16148748062372367162009-03-16T20:43:00.000-07:002009-03-16T21:02:51.246-07:00Australian's on Lent?<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMxO4hQ7nA7djl1Dz05Hiv67NI1i247Y64t93WoK3E7yKs7_O_ymSNIal5ahnvkJZs2ZWeLa-YqzU_lwVyE5XQn6KkvN6gGjIMJ9JEM9htHCL2cdmzNpxmrdxmekvMCWNkVEzV9n0CsIdp/s1600-h/IMG_0684.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314002179761895154" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMxO4hQ7nA7djl1Dz05Hiv67NI1i247Y64t93WoK3E7yKs7_O_ymSNIal5ahnvkJZs2ZWeLa-YqzU_lwVyE5XQn6KkvN6gGjIMJ9JEM9htHCL2cdmzNpxmrdxmekvMCWNkVEzV9n0CsIdp/s400/IMG_0684.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div>My family and I have been in Australia almost a year. One of the things we noticed since we arrived that, most Ozzies don't go to church. Nothing wrong with that, each person has the right to attend Sunday services or not.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>What's more, we were told by a realtor that, there are a lot of churches which are closing down, and individuals have taken to purchasing these sacred buildings and adapting them for family living. THAT was a bit odd to me, as I am a preacher's daughter - and all. I mean... I guess a church is 'just a building' per se, but... I have a hard time accepting the idea of a church or temple being used as a house. Or, being converted into a disco (in NY).</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>So, understanding that Australia is not a church going country, was not a far fetch for me. The same realtor who explained that churches were being made into homes, said that this was because of the fact that Australia was a penal colony, therefore people were much more keen on building pubs than churches. There are A LOT of pubs down under, I can assure you. Also, pubs or bars are also called 'hotels' here, so you can imagine the confusion which happens, every time someone says "Lets go to the hotel for a drink." As I mill things over in my head "Hmmm... are they asking me to go to a hotel with them? How dare they?" Nope, their intent was to just go to the bar/pub. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Ever learning the terms and slang. I finally understand their accents, now the weird words have me spinning.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Church-going they are not. Pub-going they are! Imagine my surprise when I went into my local supermarket to purchase the kids' snaks and lunch items, and at the fish counter I see an advertisement strip adorning the fresh shrimp ('prawns' in Oz), flounder and salmon, stating 'Especially for Lent'. LENT? I know a handful of people who still observe lent, and most are Orthodox Christians. Even the Catholics have relaxed on Lent. One can pick and choose what they'll give up for Lent. You can give up candy ('loolie' in Oz) or the internet (I couldn't believe this one either) in observance of the 6 week period before Easter, according to the Catholics whom I have 'drilled' on the subject.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>For one reason or another, the Australians still mention Lent... though I hardly believe they observe it. Interesting, don't you think? I intend on giving up high heel shoes for Lent this year. ;)</div>gordavihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01525386549181253537noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8488611582317396889.post-86795118331030797672008-11-26T13:16:00.000-08:002008-11-26T14:31:56.830-08:00Turkey down underAustralians do not celebrate Thanksgiving (my kids have asked if they do) - Canadians do share the American holiday, only on a <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thanksgiving_(Canada)">different day </a>- so when I mentioned to people that we were going to celebrate "turkey day" the last Thursday in November, I was showered by a flurry of questions. Such as: "Is Thanksgiving a holiday instead of Christmas?" "What does one do/eat/pray/NOT do?" "Why do you serve turkey?" "Must everyone celebrate the holiday?"<br /><br /><br />I will attempt to shed some light on the matter:<br /><br />Nope, not intended to take the place of Christmas. It is a time for families and friends to get together and share a meal, in celebration of the <a href="http://www.pilgrimhall.org/f_thanks.htm">first meal shared in peace centuries ago</a>, by the Pilgrims and the Native Americans.<br /><br />People who celebrate Thanksgiving usually prepare and eat <a href="http://www.elise.com/recipes/archives/000036moms_turkey_stuffing.php">turkey</a> (an American bird which was so liked by the new settlers, that Benjamin Franklin wanted to make it the national bird), <a href="http://www.elise.com/recipes/archives/000036moms_turkey_stuffing.php">stuffing</a> (goes into the bird when roasted), mashed potatoes, <a href="http://www.elise.com/recipes/archives/001624cranberry_sauce.php">cranberry sauce </a>(a tart little berry the sike of a small grape high in vitamin C, used like a side to the turkey) corn, <a href="http://www.epicurious.com/recipes/food/views/Candied-Sweet-Potatoes-102577">candied sweet potatoes</a>, <a href="http://www.epicurious.com/recipes/food/views/Pumpkin-Pie-pumpkin-14467">pumpkin pie</a> and an array of other complimentary foods, which make for quite the feast, and leftovers-a-pleanty. My mom would always make two turkeys, because we would have so many guests over for dinner. We would have the usual foods (mentioned here) adding to the combination traditional Serbian foods as well. Geo's family incorporated Colombian dishes, like coconut rice... mmmmm.<br /><br /><br />A prayer is customary just before the meal. One gives thanks for all the good things in the year which passed. Thanksgiving isn't strictly a Christian holiday, it is widely accepted and celebrated by all people who live in the United States, what ever their religion may be. My family accepted it as "our" holiday the very first year we arrived to America. We felt it was a lovely holiday, and how great it was that a day was dedicated to saying "Thank you God for a great life!"<br /><br /><br />After the ingestion of the gargantuanly huge meal, Americans usually plop themselves in front of the TV and watch football, or they go out and play <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Touch_football_(American)">touch football </a>themselves. Most stay on the couch and fall asleep. Turkey has a little something in it (<a href="http://www.howstuffworks.com/question519.htm">tryptophan</a>), which makes everyone who eats the bird, want to asleep... really, I'm not making this up.<br /><br /><br />What isn't done? One does <strong>not</strong> go to work on Thanksgiving, and most of the time the Friday after the holiday is a day off as well, so many people take the opportunity to visit family on the Thanksgiving weekend. I got engaged on such a weekend many moons ago. It was convenient for everyone to take some time off and come to NY for the celebration.<br /><br />Since we are "Livin' la vida Australia" we were debating... to go to a restaurant (there's a place where they'll be serving buffet style Thanksgiving dinner here in Melbourne) or have our meal home made and enjoyed at... well... home. Back and forth we went and, finally came to the decision to indeed prepare our feast in our own little itsy bitsy kitchen. We had hoped to share this special meal with friends (you know who you are) but distance, or sniffling noses have prevented this, so our family unit will prepare and enjoy the meal alone this year. Thanking the Lord for a new life, a new job, health and new friends.<br /><br />On the menu today are turkey drumsticks (six of them), since we could not find a whole bird at the market... I'm sure they have them, it's just not a meat you find readily, unlike kangaroo and lamb. Lamb is EVERYWHERE! I guess we could have prepared lamb chops instead of turkey. Nah! It had to be turkey on "turkey day" for goodness' sake.<br /><br />I managed to make a pumpkin pie from scratch. I've never done this before. It's a little lumpier than in previous years. I couldn't find the <a href="http://www.verybestbaking.com/products/libbys/history.aspx">canned puree of pumpkin</a>, so I had to boil the pumpkin and then mash it up by hand, purchase the individual spices which go into the recipe separately (no little <a href="http://www.storepulls.com/products/Pumpkin_Pie_Spice-254293-4754.html">"pumpkin pie spices"</a> pouches sold here) and since I don't know how to make my own pie crust either, I opted to make a healthier no crust recipe. I was one step short from gathering wood, making my own fire in the dirt and calling the local natives to participate in our first Thanksgiving in this new land which we call home. I didn't know where to find the natives, so no local animals will be roasted on an open fire. It would have been a more interesting feast - I'm sure - but we'll stick with what we know for now.<br /><br />Photos of the kids and their father sleeping on the sofa will be shared to prove to you the effects of the "turkey sleeping pill."<br /><br /><strong>HAPPY THANKSGIVING TO ALL!</strong>gordavihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01525386549181253537noreply@blogger.com1