My oh my, is it time for some new additions to my not-so-definitive guide to Australian vocab and slang, or what?
I started this part of the blog months ago with every intention to create a lengthy list for my linguistically inclined friends and confidantes. And now I've left you out in the cold.
Working with so many Australians on Moreton Island has given me the chance to pick up quite a few new words, many of them to do with the workplace itself.
So, without further ado, here are a bunch of new words you've probably never heard before and will likely never use!
The workplace:
Smoke-o: a short break given to employees for the purpose of inhaling a cigarette or two. Of course, one does not actually have to smoke during smoke-o. I first heard this term when I was working on the construction site in Brisbane. It took me a day or two to figure out what in tarnation the other guys meant when they kept saying things like, "Youze goin' on smoke-o at 10:30, mate?" In the case of the construction site, most guys did indeed have a ciggie or two during smoke-o. (I just ate an apple or orange and drank some water.) Hell, half of them smoked as they worked. It's very "en vogue" to do that in the construction industry.
In keeping with the theme of labour/trades, Aussies have a number of endearing terms to refer to the different types of tradesmen and labourers. Here are a few:
Chippy: a carpenter (as in wood chips, I guess)
Sparky: an electrician, for obvious reasons
Bricky: a bricklayer . . .( are you catching onto a trend yet?)
Yardy: a yardsman
Dishy: a dishwasher. The politically correct term for such a person is "kitchen hand," of course. That being said, no one ever actually calls them kitchen hands at the resort. They're just the dishies.
By this time, you might have begun to notice that Australians love to shorten words. This is probably the most defining characteristic of Australian English. If there is a way to shorten a word, Aussies will find it. My boss Madonna (but remember that everyone just calls her "Donsy") says it's because Aussies are just plain lazy. I don't know about that, but they do have a laidback approach to language.
Even the shortest of names gets shortened further by Aussies. Example: Adam becomes "Adsy" to his friends. Sharon or Sheila becomes "Shazza" or "Shaz." Darren becomes "Dazza." Strangely enough, most Australians call me by my full name. Perhaps that's because Tyler isn't a common name over here. I'm sure once they discover that they can just call me "Ty", they'll be onto it like vegemite on bread. (Make that peanut butter on toast for you North Americans.)
* * * * *
Food:
Tomato sauce: Us North Americans know this one better as "ketchup." If you say ketchup here, you usually get a "Pardon?" and then have to say it again. It's better to just ask for tomato sauce (and that's toe-mah-toe not toe-may-toe). And you must ask. They don't just hand it out with the fries over here.
Choc top: just about anything that is covered with a layer of chocolate on top is a "choc top" in Oz. That goes for ice-cream cones, doughnuts, pastry puffs, etc.
Meat pie: Australians have a major fascination/addiction to the "meat pie", a small, pastry-crusted pie stuffed with any combination of meat and vegetables (usually beef or chicken). I think we'd call these a "pot pie" back in Canada. Meat pies are common street food over here, akin to a slice of pizza or a donair (or gyro or whatever you want to call it). But I've also served them at swanky corporate cocktail parties and luncheons.
Sultana: this fancy name refers to that most unglamorous of fruits: the raisin.
Capsicum: another fancy name for something we Canadians simplistically call the "red pepper."
Rockmelon: I couldn't figure out what this one was for the longest time until one day I finally saw it for sale at the grocery store. It's cantaloupe!
Paw paw: another exotic fruit by a different name. Paw paw, which tastes like a combination of mango and banana, is the same fruit as the papaya. At least I think it is.
Drink:
Short black: known as an espresso in the rest of the world, a short black is what you order when you need a quick caffeine jolt. It is, after all, a short, little cup of coffee.
Long black: known as an americano to Canadians (and, presumably, Americans), this is a coffee that's half-water with a shot or two of espresso mixed in.
Lemonade: In Oz, this drink is the same as what we would call Sprite. That is, lemon-lime soda. In fact, if you ask for lemonade you'll usually get Sprite or some other brand of similar taste.
Lemon Squash: This is what Canucks call lemonade, i.e. a more pulpy, tangy version of Sprite.
Pot: a small glass of beer that is more or less equal to a half-pint.
Middy: same thing as a pot, different name. At first I thought the Aussies were calling it a "mini" so that's what I ordered the first few times.
Schooner: Fans of Boston Pizza will be disappointed. Why? Because in Canada a schooner has come to mean a huge glass of beer (about three pints worth). In Australia, it's a very average-sized beer and smaller than a pint.
To be continued. . . .
Sunday, August 19, 2007
Saturday, August 4, 2007
Knock, knock, who's there?
Sometimes there are periods in life when nothing seems to be going right despite your best intentions.
We’ve all had those times: your car breaks down; you drop $20 on the floor in a dark nightclub and never see it again; your boyfriend/girlfriend/partner breaks up with you when you least expect it.
It’s during those times that we are least likely to appreciate the power of coincidences or even to notice life’s pleasant twists when they happen to us. This is definitely a shame.
Work and money were a struggle during most of June and July for me. My hours at the agency in Brisbane were slashed as winter settled in and the work dried up. Then, what was supposed to be a 30-40 hour per week job on Moreton Island turned out to be a 15-20 hour per week job. The reason? The managers of the resort’s food and beverage department (in their infinite wisdom and expertise) hired far more people than needed at this time of year. It was tough at times to look on the bright side. To remember that I was living on a pristine island just steps from the beach. Sometimes you can’t focus on the good when worries about money, love, and family are gnawing at the back of your mind.
Then something happened and things started looking up for me. I was placed in the resort gift/grocery shop as extra help for three days about two weeks ago. Suddenly, I heard rumours of a permanent casual position in the shop. I figured I would apply but didn’t expect to get the job, being as new to the resort as I am. Just when I had given up on getting the job and started planning to quit the resort and move further north, the shop manager came up to me one Wednesday night and said, “Hey, did you hear the news from your department?”
No, I said.
“You’ve got the job in the shop. You start next Tuesday.”
What?!
So, here I am. Still living on Moreton Island and finally getting decent hours. The shop manager, Madonna (known simply to all as “Donsy”), is a wonderful, cheerful woman who always has a tale to tell. She makes what could be a very boring job plenty of fun.
This morning I’m in Brisbane for the day. It’s time to catch up on a few errands and rid myself of a minor bout of Island Fever. Speaking of which, I no longer am sure whether I prefer life in the city to life in the country or vice versa. Lately the city seems dirty, noisy and overcrowded. What is with all these traffic signals? We don’t even have paved roads on Moreton Island, let alone crosswalks. But that is a bit of a tangent.
I decided to pay a visit to the YMCA this morning. I haven’t done a proper workout with weights in four months and was long overdue. I was disappointed that the gym was kind of small and the equipment sort of old. But the man at the front desk was very friendly and very familiar to me, for some strange reason. I told him I was going to think about it and might come back later to use the gym.
I wandered a few blocks down the street to another gym that is supposed to be larger, newer and nicer.
Then I hit another roadblock: the gym is closed on weekends. What kind of gym in the middle of a city of 1.5 million people does not open on weekends? Apparently the one I was at. Brisbane is a strange city in this way. Just after I arrived in the city at 8 p.m. last night, a few restaurants were already getting ready to close in the city’s nightclub district. The ones that were open were either half-empty or of the fast-food variety. And this on a warm, calm night. But, I digress once more.
So I went back to the Y. It would be cheaper anyway.
I started to tell the man at the front desk about my little escapade and gripe a wee bit about Brisbane’s strange business hours. That’s when he said, “Oh, I know. I’m from Canada. It’s different over there.”
I told him I was Canadian as well. And then something dawned on me. I said, “Hey, what’s your name?”
“Quan,” he said. And then we both realized it at the same moment.
“Did you used to live in Vancouver?” I broke into a smile.
Yep. He did. Right down the hall from me in the summer of 2001. We were both taking summer classes at UBC. Coincidentally, this was the same place I met my good friend Andreas, whom I later shared an apartment with in Vancouver for more than a year.
Wild!
Quan and I spent about 20 minutes catching up on where we were at in life and how the others we lived in the dorm with are doing. He’s now in his last year of medical school here in Brisbane and is dating a local girl. It was so good to see someone from home and talk about familiar people and places. To boot, Quan gave me a free entry to the gym.
I remember a story my dad told me years ago after he went on a trip to China. There he was shopping in a department store in Beijing when he ran into a woman he knew from high school in Regina, Sask. I just never thought I would have similar experience, at least not in Australia.
* * *
All right. I’ve blabbed on for long enough now. It’s time to show you more pictures from
Moreton!
A humback whale gives us a "wave". This was during a whale watching tour I did last weekend at the resort. We were lucky enough to have a calm, sunny day, which made it easier to see the whales. Too bad they were kind of shy that day. I think we only got one breech (a jump out of the water).
My fearless housemate Sam lifts a big, nasty Diamond Python out of our way as a group of us hiked across Moreton Island last week. This snake had stretched himself right across the road and was enjoying some sunbathing when we stumbled upon him. Sam said that the snake was pretty harmless and slow-moving at this time of year when food is scarce. And this was only a python, not a venomous snake. Still, I was a bit freaked out. I assume that any and all snakes can and will kill me in this country. There are some seriously lethal ones and you just never know!
The 20-km roundtrip hike wasn't as hard as we thought it would be but we were pretty much ready for bed when we got back to the resort. The snake added a bit of excitement to the tail end of the trip.
Voila, a shot of the dolphins at long last! These two guys are eagerly waiting to be fed by a staff member (top right) and a guest (in the yellow). A photographer (not me) is waiting to snap a photo of the feeding on the left.
We’ve all had those times: your car breaks down; you drop $20 on the floor in a dark nightclub and never see it again; your boyfriend/girlfriend/partner breaks up with you when you least expect it.
It’s during those times that we are least likely to appreciate the power of coincidences or even to notice life’s pleasant twists when they happen to us. This is definitely a shame.
Work and money were a struggle during most of June and July for me. My hours at the agency in Brisbane were slashed as winter settled in and the work dried up. Then, what was supposed to be a 30-40 hour per week job on Moreton Island turned out to be a 15-20 hour per week job. The reason? The managers of the resort’s food and beverage department (in their infinite wisdom and expertise) hired far more people than needed at this time of year. It was tough at times to look on the bright side. To remember that I was living on a pristine island just steps from the beach. Sometimes you can’t focus on the good when worries about money, love, and family are gnawing at the back of your mind.
Then something happened and things started looking up for me. I was placed in the resort gift/grocery shop as extra help for three days about two weeks ago. Suddenly, I heard rumours of a permanent casual position in the shop. I figured I would apply but didn’t expect to get the job, being as new to the resort as I am. Just when I had given up on getting the job and started planning to quit the resort and move further north, the shop manager came up to me one Wednesday night and said, “Hey, did you hear the news from your department?”
No, I said.
“You’ve got the job in the shop. You start next Tuesday.”
What?!
So, here I am. Still living on Moreton Island and finally getting decent hours. The shop manager, Madonna (known simply to all as “Donsy”), is a wonderful, cheerful woman who always has a tale to tell. She makes what could be a very boring job plenty of fun.
This morning I’m in Brisbane for the day. It’s time to catch up on a few errands and rid myself of a minor bout of Island Fever. Speaking of which, I no longer am sure whether I prefer life in the city to life in the country or vice versa. Lately the city seems dirty, noisy and overcrowded. What is with all these traffic signals? We don’t even have paved roads on Moreton Island, let alone crosswalks. But that is a bit of a tangent.
I decided to pay a visit to the YMCA this morning. I haven’t done a proper workout with weights in four months and was long overdue. I was disappointed that the gym was kind of small and the equipment sort of old. But the man at the front desk was very friendly and very familiar to me, for some strange reason. I told him I was going to think about it and might come back later to use the gym.
I wandered a few blocks down the street to another gym that is supposed to be larger, newer and nicer.
Then I hit another roadblock: the gym is closed on weekends. What kind of gym in the middle of a city of 1.5 million people does not open on weekends? Apparently the one I was at. Brisbane is a strange city in this way. Just after I arrived in the city at 8 p.m. last night, a few restaurants were already getting ready to close in the city’s nightclub district. The ones that were open were either half-empty or of the fast-food variety. And this on a warm, calm night. But, I digress once more.
So I went back to the Y. It would be cheaper anyway.
I started to tell the man at the front desk about my little escapade and gripe a wee bit about Brisbane’s strange business hours. That’s when he said, “Oh, I know. I’m from Canada. It’s different over there.”
I told him I was Canadian as well. And then something dawned on me. I said, “Hey, what’s your name?”
“Quan,” he said. And then we both realized it at the same moment.
“Did you used to live in Vancouver?” I broke into a smile.
Yep. He did. Right down the hall from me in the summer of 2001. We were both taking summer classes at UBC. Coincidentally, this was the same place I met my good friend Andreas, whom I later shared an apartment with in Vancouver for more than a year.
Wild!
Quan and I spent about 20 minutes catching up on where we were at in life and how the others we lived in the dorm with are doing. He’s now in his last year of medical school here in Brisbane and is dating a local girl. It was so good to see someone from home and talk about familiar people and places. To boot, Quan gave me a free entry to the gym.
I remember a story my dad told me years ago after he went on a trip to China. There he was shopping in a department store in Beijing when he ran into a woman he knew from high school in Regina, Sask. I just never thought I would have similar experience, at least not in Australia.
* * *
All right. I’ve blabbed on for long enough now. It’s time to show you more pictures from
Moreton!
A humback whale gives us a "wave". This was during a whale watching tour I did last weekend at the resort. We were lucky enough to have a calm, sunny day, which made it easier to see the whales. Too bad they were kind of shy that day. I think we only got one breech (a jump out of the water).
My fearless housemate Sam lifts a big, nasty Diamond Python out of our way as a group of us hiked across Moreton Island last week. This snake had stretched himself right across the road and was enjoying some sunbathing when we stumbled upon him. Sam said that the snake was pretty harmless and slow-moving at this time of year when food is scarce. And this was only a python, not a venomous snake. Still, I was a bit freaked out. I assume that any and all snakes can and will kill me in this country. There are some seriously lethal ones and you just never know!
The 20-km roundtrip hike wasn't as hard as we thought it would be but we were pretty much ready for bed when we got back to the resort. The snake added a bit of excitement to the tail end of the trip.
Voila, a shot of the dolphins at long last! These two guys are eagerly waiting to be fed by a staff member (top right) and a guest (in the yellow). A photographer (not me) is waiting to snap a photo of the feeding on the left.
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