A Rose By Any Other Name


I'm an American who has been adopted by Australia. I love Australia if for no other reason than she adopted me in spite of my roots and my accent. An accent, by the way, I personally do not believe I possess.

Australians are generally very open. They either like Americans or they don't. Those that do are unfailingly friendly. They are glad to meet you and happy to converse. I appreciate this quality because even after nine years on Australian soil, I have a lot to learn. I think that if you want to know about people you should go directly to the source, so I am always pleased to meet an "American friendly" Australian and settle down with a cuppa for a nice long natter. (As I mentioned, I have been here for nine years.)

Probably the first thing you need to do in any foreign country is to either arrive knowing the language or to get yourself a translator. My knowledge of foreign languages consists of two years each of high school Spanish and Latin. At 50 years of age, I have never been to Spain (but I kinda like the music) or Rome nor am I Roman Catholic, so I find that what is left of this knowledge is as useful to me as the mini-skirts I wore when I gained the knowledge. However, if you ever want to translate the first paragraph of "Caesar's Gallic Wars”, sing Christmas carols or bless yourself in Spanish or Latin, I'm your girl!

I wasn't worried about arriving in Australia unable to speak the language because I had it on good authority that Australians spoke English. Since my mother and the American school system spent the first eighteen years of my life correcting my usage, pronunciation and articulation of English, I was pretty sure that was what I spoke as well. I felt I had it made in the shade! No communication problems for little old me. Besides, I would have my very own cuddly personal translator. He stood in front of a celebrant and promised to love, honor, cherish, do windows, remove Jurassic Park spiders, throw himself in front of snakes and translate for me. It's the part where he always falls asleep when I make him watch the video. His job was to help me over the odd hump in the language road. Wrong!

First of all, my translator was born in Wales (the land of lyrical speech and the longest words in history unpronounceable by anyone not genetically predisposed) where he spent the first four years of his life. He spent the next 12 years of his life in London. That is a total of 16 of the most formative years of his life in the language department. Granted he had been living in Australia for a VERY long time but he still hung out with a lot of Welsh and Irish mates and his parents have never lost their accent.
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Second, I failed to take into account that just as there are speech variances from region to region in the land of my birth, the same is true in Australia. Especially when you live in Tasmania! Consequently, I have spent the last nine years of my life in the pursuit of a happy medium. It was so bad for a while that anytime I had to fill out a government form I was unsure if I needed to check yes next to the box where it asks if you need a translator or if anyone in the house speaks a foreign language! For example: say the word aluminum and then ask me to say it. It is always worth 10 minutes of hilarity around our house. You say toe-ma-to and I say toe-may-to.

I am gaining ground finally. I'm not exactly sure when the transition started but I can now move from Australian English to American English with lightning speed. The realization that I am now fluent in a foreign language came to me the other day when after making four locals calls and making myself understood in Australian, I then phoned my mother in America and made myself understood in American. The conversation went something like this:

"Hello"

"G'day, Mum"

"Linda?"

"Hi,Ma! How ya goin?"

"How am I what?"

"How are you?"

"I'm good, I got the test results back from my physical and I am very healthy!”

"Good on ya, Mum!"

"Errr, right...how are Tony and the kids?"

"Good, Tony has been feeling a bit shagged lately but he's right now. Tris is back to playing footie in his spare time. Vic was also a bit crook but she is right now."

"Excuse me?”

"Sorry Ma, Tony is tired, Tris is playing football, and Vic was feeling a bit off color."

"Oh, well tell Tony not to work so hard and tell Tris to please stay in one piece and maybe Vic needs to see a doctor. Give them my love, please."

"No worries Ma, I mean not a problem!”

"What else is new?”

"I played gofer for the sparks the other day and the excavator just arrived to make a road through the bush and hopefully get rid of some of the bracken."

"Excuse me?”

"Sorry, I played gofer for the electrician, and the excavator is making a new road through some of the woods and taking out some of the ferns."

"Oh, that should be good."

"Yeah, I reckon the drive will be about a kilometer long when the excavator is done. Oh...I've lost a little over 4 kilos...hang on a minute as I want to get a cuppa."

"Linda, what did you just say?”

"Sorry again...I estimate that the drive will be almost a half mile long and I've lost almost 9 pounds. I'm pouring myself a cup of coffee."

"Linda?"

"Yup!"

"When are you coming home for a visit?"

"Ma, I was there only last year!"

"Yes, but I think it's time for a refresher course in the English language!”

"Habla ustedes Espanol?"