Let's talk language. One of the greatest aspects of traveling with a family from overseas is hearing those small, seemingly minuscule variants in the way one communicates.
My friends from Australia arrived in the United States following a 13-hour transoceanic flight from Melbourne. After a few days in the Midwest, we arrived in New York City. To cross the globe, to trek these types of distances, one would expect there to be a language barrier. To the contrary, as we walked through Central Park, several comments were made relishing the observation that we were all there, literally halfway across the world, able to communicate freely and with ease. Simply put, there is no language barrier between the United States and Australia.
Or is there?
As always, it was the little things. I could converse with ease all day long with Andrew, his wife Belinda, and their two young boys, with nothing but an accent and a few slang words to separate us. Throughout our journey, as quiet conversations occurred amongst themselves, I was given the opportunity to soak in tidbits of cultural gold.
First was that ubiquitous Aussie expression, "mate." The term has been watered down and sterilized here in the U.S., thanks in part to cheesy advertising campaigns sold by outlets like Outback Steakhouse. But in everyday vernacular, Aussies still use it - in abundance. The two boys - Lachlan and Mitchell - dropped it profusely to describe friends and acquaintances, but most gratifying of all was to hear Belinda use the word "mate." Something about the feminine application of the word makes it sound so delightful and foreign, so when Belinda would designate someone by pointing out, "Nah - they're just good mates," I had to smile and listen.
If there is something Australians do better than any other group on earth, it must be light-hearted, jocular ridicule. An Aussie will poke fun at, pick on, and laugh at the expense of just about anyone, and they have developed a refined vocabulary to do just that. Likewise, they tend not to curse. In my experience, I have rarely heard an Australian utter profanity that could not be published in this article. Rather, they access a lovely list of pejoratives that, while intended to lightly insult, also add a touch of humor to the situation.
Imagine two typical brothers, aged 12 and 14. Inevitably they will find something to squabble about. Now picture Mitchell, the younger, crossing a street. Not looking where he is going, he catches his toe on the curb. Immediately he shrieks, but instead of profanity, he and his brother offer this delightful exchange to the world:
Mitchell: "Streuth. My toe - that bloody hurts."
Lachlan, observing from a distance and looking indignant behind his sunglasses: "Look where ya goin', you're such a spud."
Mitchell: "I'm not a spud; you're a muppet."
By far, the most memorable communication occurred when we attended a baseball game at Yankee Stadium. Wanting to give my friends the full American summer experience, we purchased our tickets, grabbed some hot dogs and climbed into the grandstand. From this vantage point we watched the Yankees take on the Orioles, and I explained the game as we went.
I'm not afraid to admit - by the fourth inning, my knowledge of professional baseball had been all but exhausted. As Andrew leaned over and asked me questions, I couldn't help but notice that we had an eavesdropper. A gentleman, clearly a local, in the row ahead of ours was listening in. By the fifth inning he was ready to climb back into our seats, so when I finally got stumped I literally tapped him on the shoulder and introduced him to Andrew, "Here - ask this guy."
Try to imagine Paul Hogan sitting down and having a conversation with the late James Gandolfini:
Local: "Hey, where youse frum?"
Andrew: "We're from Australia, mate - having trouble figuring out this game."
Local: "Yeah I woudda gessed youse frum New Zealand. I'm from Brooklyn. Whatta ya wanna know bout the game?"
Andrew: "Well it's so bloody quiet; if this was a cricket test or Aussie Rules match, everyone would be up."
Local: "Heez da ting ya gotta realize - mosta da Yankee playaz are injured right now. Don't get me wrong - ya lookin at a dubble-A team, but ya get some of our star performaz out dare, ya won't be able ta hear yourself tink in deez stands."
Andrew: "Well that's it - there's just nothing going on; Aussie Rules just never stops."
Local: "Well ya did da rite ting. If ya in New Yoak Citee, ya gotta go to a Yankeez game. Ya gotta see da Yankeez play."
As if to drive home the point that this was more fun than a movie theatre, about that time Belinda leaned over, "Bloody hot today, isn't it?"
- Dan Wegmueller of Monroe writes a column for the Times each Tuesday. He can be reached at dwegs@tds.net.
My friends from Australia arrived in the United States following a 13-hour transoceanic flight from Melbourne. After a few days in the Midwest, we arrived in New York City. To cross the globe, to trek these types of distances, one would expect there to be a language barrier. To the contrary, as we walked through Central Park, several comments were made relishing the observation that we were all there, literally halfway across the world, able to communicate freely and with ease. Simply put, there is no language barrier between the United States and Australia.
Or is there?
As always, it was the little things. I could converse with ease all day long with Andrew, his wife Belinda, and their two young boys, with nothing but an accent and a few slang words to separate us. Throughout our journey, as quiet conversations occurred amongst themselves, I was given the opportunity to soak in tidbits of cultural gold.
First was that ubiquitous Aussie expression, "mate." The term has been watered down and sterilized here in the U.S., thanks in part to cheesy advertising campaigns sold by outlets like Outback Steakhouse. But in everyday vernacular, Aussies still use it - in abundance. The two boys - Lachlan and Mitchell - dropped it profusely to describe friends and acquaintances, but most gratifying of all was to hear Belinda use the word "mate." Something about the feminine application of the word makes it sound so delightful and foreign, so when Belinda would designate someone by pointing out, "Nah - they're just good mates," I had to smile and listen.
If there is something Australians do better than any other group on earth, it must be light-hearted, jocular ridicule. An Aussie will poke fun at, pick on, and laugh at the expense of just about anyone, and they have developed a refined vocabulary to do just that. Likewise, they tend not to curse. In my experience, I have rarely heard an Australian utter profanity that could not be published in this article. Rather, they access a lovely list of pejoratives that, while intended to lightly insult, also add a touch of humor to the situation.
Imagine two typical brothers, aged 12 and 14. Inevitably they will find something to squabble about. Now picture Mitchell, the younger, crossing a street. Not looking where he is going, he catches his toe on the curb. Immediately he shrieks, but instead of profanity, he and his brother offer this delightful exchange to the world:
Mitchell: "Streuth. My toe - that bloody hurts."
Lachlan, observing from a distance and looking indignant behind his sunglasses: "Look where ya goin', you're such a spud."
Mitchell: "I'm not a spud; you're a muppet."
By far, the most memorable communication occurred when we attended a baseball game at Yankee Stadium. Wanting to give my friends the full American summer experience, we purchased our tickets, grabbed some hot dogs and climbed into the grandstand. From this vantage point we watched the Yankees take on the Orioles, and I explained the game as we went.
I'm not afraid to admit - by the fourth inning, my knowledge of professional baseball had been all but exhausted. As Andrew leaned over and asked me questions, I couldn't help but notice that we had an eavesdropper. A gentleman, clearly a local, in the row ahead of ours was listening in. By the fifth inning he was ready to climb back into our seats, so when I finally got stumped I literally tapped him on the shoulder and introduced him to Andrew, "Here - ask this guy."
Try to imagine Paul Hogan sitting down and having a conversation with the late James Gandolfini:
Local: "Hey, where youse frum?"
Andrew: "We're from Australia, mate - having trouble figuring out this game."
Local: "Yeah I woudda gessed youse frum New Zealand. I'm from Brooklyn. Whatta ya wanna know bout the game?"
Andrew: "Well it's so bloody quiet; if this was a cricket test or Aussie Rules match, everyone would be up."
Local: "Heez da ting ya gotta realize - mosta da Yankee playaz are injured right now. Don't get me wrong - ya lookin at a dubble-A team, but ya get some of our star performaz out dare, ya won't be able ta hear yourself tink in deez stands."
Andrew: "Well that's it - there's just nothing going on; Aussie Rules just never stops."
Local: "Well ya did da rite ting. If ya in New Yoak Citee, ya gotta go to a Yankeez game. Ya gotta see da Yankeez play."
As if to drive home the point that this was more fun than a movie theatre, about that time Belinda leaned over, "Bloody hot today, isn't it?"
- Dan Wegmueller of Monroe writes a column for the Times each Tuesday. He can be reached at dwegs@tds.net.
