Mispronounced misunderstandings.

Yesterday I went shopping for tea pots and tea infusers on Glen Huntly Rd, a relatively well-to-do part of town.
I went to one shop where the sales ladies were chatting away and didn't stop when I came in and looked around. When I asked them if they had teapots the conversation went like this:

Lady 1: there's some floral ones over there if you are into that sort of thing

Me: ah ok, hmmm

Lady 2: we also have the bogan collection, that might be more your style

Me: excuse me, what collection?

Lady 2: the BODUM.

Me: oh goodness, I thought you said bogan!

Lady 2: no, but I'm going to call it that from now on.

I'm jolly glad I clarified that one, and would have been very shocked but slightly amazed that a nice lady who works at a fancy homewares store would have the balls to call #nomakeup me a bogan. I also told her I would have been suprised for someone to refer to one of their own products as bogan as well, not really a way to up sell in Elsternwick. 



This is not the first time words or accents have been confused and upset people I have been involved with (autocorrect not included as this is a whole different category)..

Being from NZ, I had a few accent difficulties when I moved to England on my GAP year. I was working as an assistant in the P.E department, and things such as asking for a pen used to strike fear into my heart for the mickey would be taken out of me, or I'd be told that there are no pins in the office.

One afternoon I went to a fair amount of effort trying to retrieve the ball pump from the kit store, carrying it to the office, finding a space to plug it in and clearing the area for the potential of pumping balls.
When the teacher who made this request came back she was suprised I was gone so long and why I had not bought back the BOARD PEN she asked for.

 
Ball pump... Board pen.
Whether I messed up or misheard; I certainly felt deflated.

See, in England, they call undies pants. We call trousers or trackies pants.
You can imagine the looks of horror on the children's faces when after their P.E warm up I asked them to take their pants off.

"But Miss Simmons, we can't take our pants off!"
"Yes you can, warm up is over, it's time to play, hurry up and take your pants off!"
I can't remember how I clarified what I meant and how I managed to keep my job, but I had to quickly adapt.

Living in Denmark, like any foreign country, has it's language faux pas. When I broke my ankle doing gymnastics, being rushed to a foreign hospital was as scary as that feeling you have when you are travelling and go to find your passport in your bag and you search many different pockets and can't find it so you rewind in your mind where you could have left it, and start planning how you are going to get out of that country with no passport. (Usually you find it inside a book or something)
Yes it was scary!

Fortunately it was Scandinavia so everything they did to me, including the operation, was free- but back to the story.
After X-rays in my sweaty gymnastics clothes, and an embarrassing one legged shower, they came back with the results. It was like this:

Dr: Ok, your ankle is broken here and the bone is rotated out like this

Me: is that the bit I could feel sticking out?

Dr: yes. We are going to operate on you tomorrow, but first we will put you in a casket.

A casket?!!! What, so the operation is free but they shove you in a coffin overnight so that they don't need to use anesthetic because you are already dead??
Turns out casket is Danenglish for plaster cast. And they only gave me a half one since they were cutting me open the next day, which made my break out of hospital that night easier, but that is another story too..... 



What prompted me to write this, aside from hopefully entertaining you with some jovial anecdotes, is that 2 things have become apparent to me.

1. In our lives nowadays, we could go through without talking to anyone and thus never have these social kerfuffles: self serve checkouts, online shopping, walking around with earphones in.... I don't know if it's me, or people are being lazy or what, but lately I have had people skulking over my shoulder or behind me waiting for me to sense them (and probably get a fright) instead of saying excuse me. EXCUSE ME. Perdon, Excusez-moi, unskyld mig, Arohaina mai. It's not something that can get lost in translation is it?

2. Our vocab, comprehension and grammar is slipping away as fast as those polar ice caps melting. 

 It's not what you say, but it's how you say it. And if you say it at all. 

Jj

Sun is warm, grass is green

Simplicity.

I need not go on about how life throws us curve balls, when it rains it pours, blah blah. Let's just say for me the past fortnight has been eventful in every sense, and times ahead could be just as taxing.
What has got me through (aside from the fantastic support network I have) is focusing on one to three things at a time, and celebrating or looking at the whole part of them.

I am still learning to practice meditation and sharpen and discipline my focus, however, this pop culture mantra has worked wonders.

"Sun is warm, grass is green." - Mr Miyagi, The Next Karate Kid.





 I'm not asking or recommending everyone starts walking around chanting things.
Try to FEEL the sun being warm, and SEE how green the grass (or trees) is.

Just those two things. 

And if it is dark or raining, find the fascination hidden within something which seems small or insignificant.

The other day I found myself transfixed on the ear hairs of this old man on the tram...it quietened my busy mind noticing how those tiny white whisps are something to be celebrated as a sign of age and wisdom, and whilst it sounds crazy to be staring at ear hairs, it drove me less crazy than thinking about  the ocean of life and how I was starting to find it hard to stay afloat.

There is everything and nothing one could say about simplicity.

But I'd best keep it simple. Three things I want you to try: 

1. Close your eyes and turn to the sun 

2. Take five deep breaths feeling the warmth it gives on your face

3. Open your eyes and see something green and wonder at the simplicity and beauty that is nature.

Sun is warm. Grass is green.

Jj

Animal quackers

The Sunday that has just passed was on a long weekend, so I planned to go to the zoo. Well I woke up feeling sick as a dog. When I went to the kitchen to fetch some water, from the mess I saw, I presumed that there had been some horsing around, and thought "are ewe kitten me right meow?"

I mean, not to flap on, but it's not easy to geckover feeling sick on your day off when there has been some fowl play with your kitchen. I couldn't bear it so I thought "alpaca  my bags and get otter here." 

Well, because it was a public holiday, every man and his dog was in town, it was absolute pandamonium. Considering I still wished I was lion in bed, I was beginning to think it could be impawsable that I could survive the walk through concrete jungle let alone bear the zoo, so sat down and felt a little melon-collie.

Clucky enough, my friend Thomas walked past, he's a quack up, so knew my trip was going to bee better if now wasn't owl by myelf*. 

Thomas though, told me he was in a hawkward situation because he sensed a snake in the grass with his girlfriend going away with her ex for the weekend. "What she could be getting up to is giraffing me crazy!"

I let him parrot on for a bit about how he was eeling, and knew that however slothly I felt that day, compared to his buzzness, was irrelephant.

Then someone chirps:

"Whale, whale, what have we got hare?"

It was Thomas' girlfriend, Molly, and boy she was ready to ruffle his feathers. At this point I knew things were going to get fishy and wished I finished my counselling koalafications.

"Thomas, explain this seal-iness? Who is this mole?"

"Stop being a hyppocrite Molly, don't bring out the claws to my friend, I thought you were on your weekend?"

"No I made that up on pourpoise to make you green eyed"

"Have you no hue-manatee?!" Thomas said

I jumped in and squarked- "sorry, not sure how I goat into your argument, but I have to fly. Er, guys, you have been through too much to become aenomies, I hope you can work it out, you're purrfect for each other."

Somehow, after all that drama, I felt bright eyed and bushy tailed, and had a roaring afternoon!

Jj

*sorry, I know elf isn't technically an animal but I couldn't help myelf.

Something old, something new

The first time I heard :

"Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue" I was probably 6 and it confirmed to me that my mum was the smartest mum in the world for making up such a great rhyme. 

In full it ends with "and a sixpence in her shoe"

If it causes similar pain to when I superstitiously placed a small plastic poodle from a Christmas cracker in my tap shoe for good luck in my exam, I don't advise it.

Anyho...The rhyme appears to originate in England, an 1898 compilation of English folklore basically says the reason for wearing something blue and old will baffle the Evil eye, a spirit that will render the bride barren, which is controlled by her wearing "something borrowed" -

The knickers of a fertile woman with kids.

And in those days it would have been LOADS of kids.

I'm knot really tied up for marriage at the moment, but I'm pretty sure I'm not going to wear OCTOMOM's knickers when the big day comes.

The reason why this sentiment inspired me is because a fair amount of my wardrobe matches this poem, and I like the 'new' dress I'm wearing today which is in fact a hand me over from a friend/ or her housemate/whoever left the dress in the corner of stuff to go to Salvos.

See, as someone who thinks sneans are ok it's not really my style do fashion commentary. Yet I think the beautiful thing about wearing something old, new, borrowed, or blue, is that there can be stories attached to the clothes and wearing these stories, or friends we have borrowed from, can dress up our day in a whole different way. 

When I was asked about my earrings this week I got to relive my trip to Tonga and memories of sitting on my mum's knee and playing with the earrings I have now claimed.

My new rockstar boots I bought on the day I was sad and wrote the blog "Pillow talk and Retail therapy"

If you are a minimalist and believe having stories about possessions is what makes a hoarder: sorry.

If you know me and think my clothes really are more on the "something old, something borrowed side" : ask me a story about them.

If you are reading this snuggled up in the oversized jumper you stole from a significant male in your life: you know what I snean. 

Jj