Things to know about Australia… by Anna Moore

1.  Winter in Australia… Is…COLD!

Glad I only brought one sweatshirt, two long-sleeves and a light jacket.  The 40 degree mornings with that ocean breeze are brisk to say the least…

2.  Say goodbye to Bananas… $15 for three

I’ll miss you my yellow friends. I await the day when I can taste your potassium-laced goodness again. I am just too darn cheap.

3. The Accent...  If you ask a local Aussie  what their nationality is they will not say Aus-tra-li-an like an Am-er-i-can ( we will pound each syllable clearly)  Instead they drop the beginning and most of the word.. say proudly they are “Strian.”   Say it out loud.  And there you have the accent

4.  Heaps.   A very common way of saying “lots of,” or  ”very” is “heaps.” For example, ” Hey mate, are you coming to the pajama party? It’ll beheaps fun, with heaps crazy good times. “

5. When it rains, it POURS! 

Imagine a fire hose being blasted at your face. Yup, that’s about right. Today it has rained aggressively for over 12 hours. This country is extreme. but lots of rain means “heaps” of rainbows.

6. There is no “Coffee”

I made the mistake of asking for a cup of coffee.  The waiter looked at me, smiled, and said “A what?”  My face got hot and I grabbed a menu looking for an answer.

Short Black- espresso

Long Black- espresso and hot water

Flat White- espresso and milk, no froth

Cappuccino- espresso and milk, froth, and usually chocolate powder

** I must say, coffee by any other name does taste as sweet.

7. Rugby players… are tough.

No pads…’Nough said. 

Ireland is an English-speaking Country… Right? by Erin Riordan

…Well, yes and no. Turns out, English is spoken by the majority of the Irish people, but Co. Donegal is home to many families who speak the native language of their ancestors. Irish Gaelic is actually listed as the constitutional national language of the Republic of Ireland. Technically, it’s Irish Gaelic, but the locals refer to the language as simply “Irish.”

It’s a fascinating language to listen to. I’ve only ever seen it in writing; I’ve never heard it spoken. When I first heard it on the airplane to Dublin, it really shocked me! It sounds a lot like German…which makes sense given that it is a Germanic language (meaning that it came Indo-European descent like English and German.)

To be honest, I never thought I would have a communication issue in Ireland (at least not a language issue), but one bus driver spoke Irish as his first language and English as his very far second… When I tried to inquire about a book I had left on the bus, he didn’t know what “book” was. Finally, I tried “something you read?” and he understood. I think he thought I meant something like a laptop. Either way, I got my book back and had my first in person encounter with an Irish speaker!

When I went to the local store, I would hear mothers speaking to other adults in English, then speak Irish to their children. It was a fascinating experience in bilingualism teaching methods. It really sparked my interest in learning more about the language and gave me a potentially exciting documentary topic for class!

I can already tell this is going to be a fascinating trip and experience! More to come!

Slán agat!
Erin R.

In France they speak French by Taylor Pool

Riddle: What do you get when you cross an American trying to speak French and a Frenchman trying to speak English? Answer: A hilarious situation in which no one is speaking his or her native language and, therefore, he/she must resort to wild hand gestures to get a point across. The result:  a complete communication catastrophe.

Okay, it’s not actually that bad.

However, in France they do speak French. This seems obvious, right? But really, everything, even the traffic signs, graffiti and television, is in French. Luckily, I have a few years of studying the language under my belt to help me communicate with the natives. In fact, my host mom tells me I’m good at French! Do I believe her? Not really. Here’s why:

Naturally, it is polite to at least try to speak French at first with shop owners, waiters, bus drivers, train station employees, crazy people on the street and so on. In fact, to learn French is technically the whole reason that I am here! Nevertheless, the situation that results is really quite comical. For example, yesterday I was ordering ice cream – which is delicious in France in case you were wondering – and after ordering what I wanted (in French) the shop owner replies (in English), “in a cup or cone?” Me: “Sigh...A cup please.” Also, after ordering my lunch at the student cafeteria, again in French, the student employee instantly asks, “Where are you from?” Dangit, is it really that obvious that I’m American?

Be it the constant American clumps I travel in that kind of resemble a herd of cows, or the hilarious kid in our group that can’t resist the full-out, two arm wave whenever he sees one of us, or the constant snapping of cheesy photos wherever we go, I don’t think our attempts to “blend in” are going to be effective just yet.

On the flip-side, it’s kind of cool to be the foreigner for once. I get constant questions about the United States, the American economy, the weather and my personal favorite, “Do Americans remove their shoes after walking in the door too?” Umm…yes?

Oh, traveling. What an adventure!

Laughing in Tixmehuac by Kathryn Mitchell

I have had a lot of funny experiences during my stay in Mexico – many that have had me doubled over in that tears-streaming-down-my-cheeks kind of laughter. One instance in particular, however, lasted an entire weekend and not only did I cry laughing, but also I learned something about Mexico and the world in which we live. Traveling to the tiny pueblo of Tixmehuac was an invaluable experience in which I discovered more about myself, created friendships that I believe will last forever and laughed more than I have in a very long time.

Upon arrival, we found ourselves wandering the town in the dark, not knowing exactly where we were, who we were staying with or what to do next. We found our one-room, cement-walled house and surprise! The lights didn’t work and we were left to hang our hammocks in the dark. The hammocks themselves sent us into additional fits of laughter – trying to find a way to sleep comfortably on knotted string is far more difficult than it sounds. Not to mention twisting and turning throughout the night, inevitably tumbling to the floor or at least having several very close calls. In addition to clothes-lining yourself eight times on the hammocks of others while trying to make it to the bathroom, these Mexican-style beds provide both a lot of laughs and a lot of pain. I’m sure you’ll never believe that in all seriousness, it was the best night of sleep in my life.

The following day consisted of playing games with tiny children, having my Spanish torn apart by an eight-year-old and teaching English to 30 kids by means of musical chairs and the Old McDonald song. If watching them learn wasn’t both hilarious and as eye-opening, I don’t know what is. Mexican children laughing and pushing each other in jest in order to throw themselves into a tiny, cramped school desk was the happiest, most innocent scene I have witnessed in a very long time.

These kids taught me through humor that I am a very, very lucky person. I have a solid roof over my head, parents that can can afford to send me to college and food on my plate three times a day. Sometimes, the citizens of Tixmehuac cannot say the same. I learned that no matter the cards you are dealt, it is entirely possible to live with a smile on your face and make the most of what you do have. I laughed a lot while adventuring in this pueblo, but more importantly, I discovered a totally different world.

Interesting Experience by Kendall Kidder-Goshorn

My friends from home always ask me how much I like hearing British accents 24/7. I love the British accent, especially when there is a little bit of Cockney mixed in, but sometimes I get so confused because I just cannot understand what people are saying. Often I wonder if people think that I am hard of hearing because it always takes me a couple of seconds to process what my friends/the grocer/my Creative Writing professor said, and in a lot of cases, the language barrier halts me from comprehending what they were trying to say. I usually laugh off these moments in my head, but there is one situation in particular that is so funny that it has to be mentioned.

I was born in Putney, a district in south London, and moved to my current town in Virginia when I was 8 years old. My parents are both American though, so I am extremely lucky in the fact that I have dual citizenship with America and the UK. Because of this, I knew it would be relatively easy for me to apply for a job since I wouldn’t have to apply for a visa like my peers. I live about five minutes away from Kensington High Street, which has a lot of popular shops so I figured that I could easily get a job working in retail.

Oh, if that were only the case.

The third day of living in London, I eagerly made my way to Urban Outfitters to apply for a job. Urban Outfitters is an American retailer and a store that I visit frequently when I am at home. I naively assumed that my “American-ness” would result in a job being offered to me on the spot – Urban Outfitters revels in offering alternative fashions and I figured that my being American would be considered ‘alternative.’ My friend Catherine and I got to the store, and I walked straight up to the woman at the cash register to ask for a job application.

Cashier: You don’t need to fill out an application, just drop off your CV and we will check it out.

The cashier had a really strong accent, and since we had only been there a few days, I couldn’t interpret it as well as I can now (or like to think that I can, at least). On top of that, she had mentioned something called a “CV.” I felt an immense panic as I realized that I had no idea what a CV is, and I would have to broadcast this to a woman whom I was trying to get a job from.

Kendall: I’m sorry, could you repeat what you just said?

Cashier: You just need to bring in your CV!

Now I am fumbling for words and look like I have no idea how to speak. I was so panicked that I didn’t understand what a CV was, and was mentally chastising myself for not googling “how to get a job in the UK” before I ventured to Urban Outfitters. That search may not have garnered any results but hey! I would look less like an idiot than I currently did.

Kendall: A CV?

Cashier: …Yes, you need to bring a CV

Kendall: I’m sorry but I don’t know what that is…

Never in my life have I seen someone look at me with such a look of confusion and “what the heck??” on their face. On top of feeling incompetent, I was also now incredibly embarrassed. I realized that it was probably because a CV was a government issued document – something all citizens seeking employment had to fill out before physically applying for the job itself. Of course I didn’t have this document because I had only just arrived in the country and had not received such important governmental forms.

… Right.

Kendall: Ohhh! Do I have to get that from a government office somewhere? Or can I just print one out online? Can YOU give it to me?

….

Uh oh. Whoopsies, guess it wasn’t a government issued document, and why had she looked so appalled when I asked if she could give me one to fill out?

Cashier: Ahh. Give me one second; I’ll be right back!

Alright. I stood at the register, my face getting hotter by the second as I grew more embarrassed. I could already see my friendly cashier friend talking to the other sales associates after I left, “did you see that American that came in? She had NO idea what a CV is! … What a nutcase!” She was back fairly quickly and had a stack of papers stapled together in her hands. Here it was, the moment when I, Kendall Kidder-Goshorn, would finally understand what a CV was! Full of excitement, I leaned over the counter to see the stack of papers she was showing me to see…

Kendall: A resume!! (no wonder she looked at me so weirdly when I asked if she could just give me one!)

Cashier (laughing, thank goodness): Ah, yes, that’s what your lot calls them. Well just bring one in and we will contact you if we have any openings!

I thanked her, grabbed Catherine – who was leisurely checking out the sweater display – and high-tailed it out of there before bursting into laughter on the high street. Catherine and I still joke about it even now – my first experience of a language barrier, and while I am trying to get a job at that!

P.S. I just got back from spending my fall break in Naples, Italy visiting my Uncle and his family! It was a great trip – I had a wonderful time seeing the first Greek inland settlement at Cuma, walking through the Volcano Solfatara and eating locally caught octopus (woah!) at the Bay of Pozzuoli. Something that I will always remember from this trip, though, has absolutely nothing to do with ancient ruins or active volcanoes – it has to do with a bathroom! I was going to take shower, and quickly glanced at the water knobs to see that they had a “C” and an “H” engraved on them. The “C” was on the left side; the “H” was on the right. I turned the right-handed knob to get the water all nice and hot, and then I waited. About a minute went by and the water was still freezing! After a few minutes of shivering in my towel, I turned the “H” knob to off, and turned the “C” knob so that water came out of the spigot. I thought to myself that this was pointless – that was the “C” and everyone knows C=cold, but then, the water coming out was HOT. I looked at the knobs again, and realized that I glanced too quickly at the water knobs – the “H” (which I thought stood for hot) was actually an “F.” The F stood for frigido, the Italian word for cold, and the C stood for calda, the Italian word for hot; in my haste to take a shower I forgot to consider the fact that I wasn’t in an English speaking country. I told my uncle this story the next morning over breakfast, and he enlightened me by saying that it is almost universal that the left knob is hot water, and the right knob is cold. Interesting, huh?