Thanksgiving Down Under: Part One

"If you think Independence Day is America's defining holiday, think again. Thanksgiving deserves that title, hands down."

-Tony Snow

Thanksgiving is an American thing. Yes, Canadians celebrate it, but we Americans do it big. Even if it doesn't feel like it should be Thanksgiving, I couldn't let this Thursday pass without a little extra effort to represent my American heritage.

In my attempt to spread American Thanksgiving cheer, I brought my little turkey mini pies into the office. People were a bit confused as to why they were turkeys. I reminded them it was thanksgiving (thus a holiday and we shouldn't be working). Ashley even baked a pumpkin pie! No one seemed too excited (but they did eat my pies!). I did get genuinely quizzed on the history and roots of Thanksgiving. Pilgrims, native Americans, giving thanks for our blessings, I had the general gist. And no, we do not dress up as pilgrims and Indians for thanksgiving.

But just baking a little treat wouldn't cut it for the mac daddy of American holidays. Three trips to the grocery store later, I was able to pull together the quintessential menu. I stuck with my favorites, even if some of them were a little tricky to find and required a little improv.

Green Bean Casserole: Green beans and mushroom soup were easy. Those French's fried onions don't exist, but they do have fried shallots in the Asian foods section.

 Cranberry sauce: Found it next to the ketchup and barbecue sauce (says one Australian "well, it is a condiment, where else would you find it?"). It's the whole berry kind, with Ocean Spray cranberries from New England but processed in New Zealand. Try explaining the canned jelly kind to someone who's never seen it before. It's jelly-like, but it stays in the shape of a can, and you slice it, and then eat it in pieces...

Stuffing: No problems here. Though when I explained that I had made it the night before, someone asked me, "Don't you just use it to stuff the bird?" "Well, some people eat it by itself, as a side dish" "But why's it called stuffing?" "It's also called dressing" "But what about salad dressing?"

Mashed potatoes: Potatoes are potatoes.


The bird: Australians do eat turkey, and may even roast a turkey for Christmas (didn't have to resort to ostrich). Just no turkeys piling over the freezer shelves here. I found turkey roles, frozen turkey breasts in a box, and already smoked turkeys. The butcher has turkeys, but we decided to go with a whole chicken to roast. Everything tastes like chicken anyways.

Pecan pies: There is no Karo or corn syrup here, and golden syrup is not the same thing. So I used honey as a substitute.

And it just wouldn't be thanksgiving without an apple pie. But I did have to go Anne Arundel style and use a wine bottle as a rolling pin.

Having to cook a whole thanksgiving meal with only one oven, beginning after work, makes things a little complicated if you don't want to eat at 3am (although that would be perfect timing to watch US gridiron). Green bean casserole and stuffing were made the night before. Now I know why we get the whole day off and usually the Friday after too.

We were able to enjoy the nice weather and eat our late dinner (but at least not 3am!) on the balcony.

(Yes, he did want me to use this picture with him disappearing in the dark corner)

 Overall, it everything turned out pretty tasty, I have leftovers for tomorrow, and I'm going to bed with a full tummy. It can't compare to my past Thanksgivings in Ledyard or more recently in Goldsboro (we did still talk about UFOs at dinner!), but I still could share and pass on a wonderful tradition with great people and remember the abundance of things I have to be thankful for.

May you and your families enjoy a truly American thanksgiving!

The Trifecta: Fashion, Betting, Wine

It's no secret, Australians like to gamble. And they like to bet on horses. After my experience watching the Melbourne Cup, it was time to witness the horse races in person. Off to the races at Ascot Racecourse!

Thanks to some early morning dedication by two of my favorite Australians, we had a shaded table meters from the finish line.

The races are less about the horses and more about the fashion, the betting and the alcohol. I couldn't make myself wear a fascinator quite yet, but I got a floppy hat (I needed one to protect myself at the beach anyways) and put on my dress and plenty of sunscreen. I could have just watched people all day. There were bright neon dresses, black dresses, long dresses, and way too short and tight dresses. Fashion, check!

 And the best looking ladies there of course (with some ridiculous American in a floppy hat)

 

 

 "What is she wearing?! Did that girl change her shoes again? Neon pink lipstick? How does that fascinator stay on her head? Not so sure about those flower crowns..."

I could never have figured out the betting on my own, not ever going to a track before. Luckily, the wonderful ladies I was with put together a girls' kitty, so for $10 each, I could watch in amazement as they picked the horses and ticked the boxes for each race. We won a couple races, but only made a few coins overall. Betting, check!

All the stories I have heard of the races usually end with someone very drunk and laying on the ground. I'm not one to day drink, but I had to take part in the experience in a most responsible manner (not the laying on the ground part). Being all dressed up and fancy, the only choice for us classy ladies was bottles of SSB (semillon sauvignon blanc) to sip on throughout the afternoon. When it was my turn to buy the next bottle, they had stopped serving bottles. It was 3:00. I could only get 2 glasses, but needed 5, so three of us went up to buy 5 glasses of wine. I was buying, but the quite unfriendly bartender made us pay separately. So I went first, got my change and passed it down the line. Hannah couldn't order until I took my two glasses in my hands. Seriously?! What are these rules? Bars also have very strange alcohol rules, lockouts, and times they stop serving, but that's a whole other story... Alcohol, check!

But there were horses at the races, so I have to include one obligatory picture of a horse.

Disclaimer (mom): I did not end up laying on the ground. I was very responsible with my iced wine, and after the races hopped on the bus back to the city, and was up at 6 for a beautiful run through Kings Park. And I didn't even get sunburned.

It's 5 o'clock Somewhere

There's a TV commercial on these days saying, Australia doesn't close at 5 anymore.

Apparently it closes at 5:30.

I spent a lot of my first few weeks waiting for stores to open. Sitting on benches, doing laps around the mall, checking the clock for the minutes to pass until 10 am. Or 11 am. Or I have run down the street, husseling to get to the store before it closes. Too often, feeling like I'm in prison with all the boars covering the storefronts.

There's a pedestrian-only mall in the Perth CBD. Usually it looks like this.

But by 6 o'clock at night, it usually looks like this.

(And yes, we do have Target!)

And it used to be worse. Late night shopping is a recent thing. Stores in the city are open later on Friday, and outside of the city Thursday is late night shopping.

Ok so the grocery stores are open until 9. M-F, but they close at 5 on the weekends. So once again, I am confronted by prison bars. So much for Sunday night grocery shopping! And I thought it was bad in South Carolina where some stores didn't open until 11 on Sundays.

 Since I work during normal business hours, and Sunday night is not an option, shopping and running errands cuts a bit into my relaxing and adventuring weekend time. Good thing I don't need much, and I can at least get my groceries or last minute baking ingredients at Wooly's after work (however, as I learned yesterday, even if Wooly's is open, it does not have applesauce).

Kangaroo Hunt

I have been in Australia for over two months and have not seen a kangaroo. Kangaroos are the epitome of this country. They are on airplanes and the soccer team is named the Socceroos. The closest I have come are walking by these just a few blocks down.

Every time I walk by them, they remind me that I still haven't seen a kangaroo. What kind of Australia is this?! Yes, I realize that there will not be kangaroos roaming around the CBD in Perth. That's like seeing deer in New York City. But I've been to the suburbs. Where are the kangaroos?!

I told Leon I was going to ride my bicycle until I found one, and he told me I just needed to ride North up the path along the freeway to Pinnaroo Memorial Park. It's not a park, it's a cemetery. So today I went on my adventure to the cemetery to find kangaroos.

I had been along the freeway path before for a few kilometers, trying to find a more direct route from Scarborough to Curtin. It's great that there's a bicycle freeway :). Unfortunately it's not one of the most scenic routes, sandwiched between the freeway and a fence for some of the way as it meanders through industrial backyards, small neighborhoods, and six minutes worth of parkland.

The worst part about long bike rides for me, has always been boredom. Riding along the freeway, I got bored and thought maybe I should save the kangaroos for another day. Or maybe I could just take the train there. Either way, the thought of riding the 30+kms back to the city on this same route was somewhat unmotivating. But I kept pedalling, and soon found myself at my turnoff at Whitford Station. Usually when I try to cycle places, I get lost, but to my relief, there it was, Pinnaroo Memorial Park!

There were no signs directing me to where I could find kangaroos. There were however signs for funerals, burial services, and the chapel. It seemed a little strange, riding my bicycle through a cemetary. At it was a garden, with sites marked by fake flowers and not tomb stones. I pedaled along, keeping an eye out for anything hopping along, and not really sure what I would do if I came face to face with a kangaroo (especially a mean boxing, clawing one). But I didn't see any. Drivers are warned about kangaroos at dawn and dusk, and by this point it was late morning so I figured they were all sleeping, or hiding, or doing whatever kangaroos do in the middle of the day. Who goes to a cemetery to see kangaroos anyways? (turns out my friend's adviser also took her to this cemetery when she first got here to see a kangaroo!) I gave up.

 I was just finding a road to turn around, when I saw a light brown color through the bush! Six or seven were just sitting in the shade, lounging. They were just like in the Riverbanks Zoo, except not behind fences. Still feeling a little strange with families around visiting gravesites, I sat on a bench for a few quiet moments, watched these Aussie roos, and hopped back on the bike to ride home.

And just to give you the context, they were right in the middle of the cemetery in a section without flowers.

Mission accomplished. I now know I am in Australia (just in case there was any doubt). Hopefully next time I see a kangaroo, it will be easier to find.

And I didn't ride back a long the freeway. I made my way to the ocean. It was a little longer, but the view of the teal and blue Indian Ocean beats cars on a freeway any day.

Everything I Need to Know About Australia I Learned from the Bachelor

Australia hasn't been all kangaroo rides and surfing with the sharks and blond, bronze boys. A lot of my time has been spent meeting finding my own way around, meeting new people,  and learning about Australia. One of my first weeks here, my All-things-Australia guru extraordinaire, Kyla, told me about the Bachelor Australia. Since then, when I find my Wednesday evenings free, I spend some time in 'culture studies'. (Plus I can always catch the re-runs!). And Wednesday lessons are followed by humorous studies in Australian satire with Rosie's blog.

Being from the Gold Coast doesn't make you the brightest.

Not everyone in Australia has blonde hair (or fake blonde hair). There are brunettes, and brunettes with shades of grey.

The Bogan thing to do is make lemonade shandys.

It's ok to drive little cars and be a real man. This includes Ford Focuses.

If you're trying to be classy, you have a chat over a cappuccino.

Breakwater in Perth is THE restaurant to be. They even have their name on the glasses, in case you forget where you are.

It's not the sharks, spiders, and a snakes you need to watch out for. It's the boats. Don't run into them or you could break your knee. But if you do get a fake injury, the Australian healthcare system will take very good care of you.

There is a beautiful house in Sydney with lots  and lots of flowers including roses.

I need to go to Broome so I can find a pearl. You just need to pick one clam and poof! Pearl!

There is minigolf in Perth!

New South Wales is apple country, and they have apple stands that look just like the little farm stand in the Greenfield Berkshires.

Chasing sheep is not just for dogs. Girls can do it as well and wearing a pink puffy vest helps.

And most importantly, bad TV isn't just for America, it's made it's way to Australia even if it has its own Aussie twist.


And because the perfect thing to go with some bad chick TV is two of the best bachelors, Ben and Jerry who have recently made their way to Perth.

It's down to only two girls, Tim makes his big decision next week, which means I only have one more acculturation lesson left. And with Australia's got Talent, X Factor Australia, and Dancing with the Stars Australia over or almost over, how will I get my Australian pop culture fix? I guess it will be Home and Away and Wonderland because I refuse to resort to American re-runs. 

Don't Forget the Sunscreen

Despite living 3 blocks from Scarborough Beach for 5 weeks, I had yet to have a proper beach day. Gale force winds, sideways rain, and chilly temps of an unusually cold and wet spring don't call me to put on my bathing suit, grab a towel and head to the beach. But I figured it was about time I took full advantage of Perth's ocean coast.

Looks like a typical November forecast to me.

A 30 minute train ride and I was at Cottesloe station. It was like following the yellow brick road, as a bunch of scarecrows and tinmen processed through a neighborhood to the beach. (which is slightly ironic because one review I read was that it was hard to find the beach from the station. Clearly someone did not speak one of these multiple languages.)

 

These pretty tiles marked the way.

 

If you look really closely, you can see the hotel at Scarborough. It's the little blob at the end of the beach you can see.

I took my first full plunge into the Indian Ocean. I won't say it was warm, but that didn't stop everyone from frolicking in the sea. And the water was crystal clear, creating lagoons between the patches of rock and seaweed.

 

One difference from all the American beaches, is how vigilant EVERYONE is with sun protection. The rays are brutal here in the land of missing ozone. I've been burnt sitting out at lunch. Even the teenage boys next to me re-applied sunscreen and one had an almost old lady looking sun hat that no one teased him about. There were several large pump bottles scattered on the beach. And all the children have these adorable sunhats. I was good and had my hat and pre-applied Ultra sunscreen, but on par with my sunscreen applying skills, I missed a couple spots.

There were normal beach activities including reading, sunbathing, "friz", and tossing around a (Australian rules) football. Many beach goers picked a grassy perch, which I've heard could be because of the sandblasting wind that comes up later in the afternoon. But for my visit, the sand was stayed on the ground.

There was a path to walk along and out on the jetty. On the other side of the jetty was a beautiful rock formation and lagoon looking south towards Fremantle.

I think I may be going back to the beach very soon. 

And I didn't even see a shark...

Champers and Fascinators

It's "the race that stops the nation."
For three minutes.
It's a public holiday in Victoria.
We had a special lunch at work.
For...
a horse race?

The Melbourne Cup is more about gambling and fashion than horse racing. Our office also had a sweep (which I did not enter as my blind "betting" in the AFL Grande Final was quite overwhelming). Then there's the hats, or fascinators as they are called. Kids in school have hat contests, much like my hat parade in kindergarten at Ledyard Center School. A colleague's kid had a hat with horses running around a race track. I had horses on a merry-go-round. My question is, how do they get them to stay on their heads?

When I asked what I could bring to our potluck, I suggested something that transports easily on a bike (aka not a platter of coldcuts). So I got orange juice. And champers. Champers...? Yup that's right, a little bubbly champagne for a mid workday lunch. No problem.

 And there's plenty of controversy surrounding the cup. To avoid race fixing, trainers and jockeys must submit their tactics before the race to officials If their actual race differs from their plan, they must have a legitimate justification for the change or they're penalized. This is the guy who won. He's been suspended for the past 12 months for betting on another horse.

This is the winning trainer. It was her first Melbourne Cup win. Her other horse this morning couldn't race because it had been given medications (or something like that). And she couldn't get her training license for years because her husband was involved in a race fixing scandal. But check out that hat!

The horse that won is Fiorente. The winning team gets 3.6 million dollars to split between the 60-ish owners, trainer and jockey. I'm guessing the horse is lucky if he gets an extra big carrot or sugar cube. Maybe if he's lucky he'll get a special fascinator.

It's About Time

I wanted to call my friend to wish him happy birthday. He lives in US Mountain Standard Time. Eastern Standard time is a perfect 12 hours behind, so MST would be 14 hours behind. But last night the clocks changed back for the end of daylight savings time. So MST would be 15 hours behind, except it was already Sunday here, but still Saturday there, so the clocks hadn't changed yet. My head hurt from all the math. (It turns out I didn't have his phone number saved in my Google contacts so I couldn't call him anyways.) And don't get me started on figuring out what time it is in Europe...

Western Australia does not do daylight savings time. The farmers believe it would mess up the cows, or something. What this means is that it gets light really early and dark early. Plus Perth is on the Western side of the time zone, so everything is shifted earlier. I adjusted to the time difference within a week of moving here, but my circadian clock still hasn't quite adapted to daylight hours figured out. I'll be riding my bike or going for a run at 6:00 am and it's broad daylight. My body is quite positive it's already 9:00 am and I'm late for work. And there's still over a month of it getting brighter earlier and earlier. I'll be able to go for a 2 hour bike ride in full daylight and still be in work by 7 (If I chose to get up at 4:30 with the sun).

The sun lights up the city before 5:45 am

 And it's already hiding below the horizon at 6:45 pm

 By 7:15 pm the lights of the city are in full twinkle.

This description of the time mess in Australia from Wikipedia illustrates it perfectly.

"The choice of whether to use daylight saving time (DST) in Australia is a matter for the individual states and territories. In 1971, New South Wales, Victoria, Queensland, South Australia, and the Australian Capital Territory followed Tasmania by observing daylight saving. Western Australia and the Northern Territory did not. Queensland abandoned daylight saving time in 1972. Queensland and Western Australia have observed daylight saving over the past 40 years from time to time on trial bases.

New South Wales, the Australian Capital Territory, Victoria, Tasmania and South Australia observe DST every year. This has resulted in three time zones becoming five during the daylight-saving period. South Australia time becomes UTC+10:30, called Central Daylight Time (CDT), possibly with "Australia" prefixed (ACDT). The time in the southeastern states becomes UTC+11, using "Eastern" in the time zone name, with the abbreviations being EDT or AEDT.

Officially, the change to and from DST takes place at 2:00 am local standard time (which is 3:00 am DST) on the appropriate Sunday. Of the states that observe DST, most began on the last Sunday in October, and ended on the last Sunday in March, until 2008. Tasmania, owing to its further southern latitude) began DST earlier, on the first Sunday in October, and ended on the first Sunday of April.
On 12 April 2007, New South Wales, Victoria, Tasmania and the Australian Capital Territory agreed to common starting and finishing dates for DST. From the 2008/09 period, the start of DST in these states and in South Australia commences on the first Sunday in October and ends on the first Sunday in April. Western Australia became the only state to observe daylight saving from the last Sunday in October to the last Sunday in March. Since 2009 Western Australia no longer observes daylight saving."

Thinking about all this time stuff has got me to be a bit existential. Time is all relative. It's tomorrow here and yesterday back home, but if I fly home I get time back but I don't go back in time to relive that day. Minutes and hours are all meaningless but it's experiences and moments that mark the passing of time. That's enough philosophizing for now.