Thanksgiving Food for Thought

Last year in Sydney, I hosted my own Thanksgiving dinner for the first time. I was so proud of this American holiday and the traditions that accompany it that I wanted to share it with everyone I knew in my new city. Friends from the UK, Canada, France, Sweden and the US were present. The menu wasn't impressive or traditional. However, we shared our potluck dishes, crowding around my tiny living room, and we all wrote what we were thankful for in chalk on the wall. While I was grateful to be in an amazing city surrounded by good company, my homesick thoughts wandered to a table thousands of miles away, where my grandmother's turkey and dressing and pumpkin pie sat encircled by my family members.

Being in Australia meant I wasn't able to watch my college football team win their big game or see the skyscraper-sized balloons float down 6th Avenue in New York. It also meant that I wasn't bombarded with commercials and email blasts about the upcoming Black Friday sales and doorbuster savings. There are no Walmarts in Australia, and I was a backpacker with few real needs and little means to buy nice gifts for others. Without the incessant notifications and ads to serve as reminders, I sort of forgot about this part of Thanksgiving altogether.

And it undoubtedly has become a part of the holiday. Thanksgiving is no longer a four-day weekend to relax and spend time with family, or even a full day of rest. For many employees of major retailers, Thursday has become a day to prepare for or even begin the mad rush of holiday shopping. With stores opening earlier each year, it seems our beloved Turkey Day has simply turned into a kick-off event for a month-long feast of consumerism. We're now encouraged to shop on Black Friday, Small Business Saturday, and Cyber Monday. (If you haven't experienced the madness of Black Friday shopping for yourself, it only takes about 30 seconds of this YouTube video to get a feel for it.) 

Last year, the United Nations Foundation and the 92nd Street Y in New York teamed up to launch a campaign called #GivingTuesday. The mission is to "create a national day of giving at the start of the annual holiday season." While I think it's a great idea to encourage charitable giving and support nonprofit organizations, it also makes me sad that it's been tacked on to the tail end of a weekend of overindulgence, as if Giving Tuesday is the juice cleanse for our extravagant holiday dinner. 

What if Thanksgiving was about giving just as much as it is about food, parades, football and shopping? What if our "giving of thanks" was not reduced to a single meal or even a day, but was perpetual? I want to learn to wake up every morning with a grateful heart and count my blessings each night as I fall asleep. And maybe if we all strive to be better at this--to be more mindful of the things we do have, we'll worry less about the things we don't, and give a little more.

Nyepi

{MARCH 12, 2013}

Outside is a quiet like I've never known. The silence is so heavy I'm afraid to even open the creaky wooden door of my bungalow. There's no movement in the surrounding rice fields; no automobiles or motorbikes honking in the streets. The only creatures that defy the stillness are roosters and crickets. Today is Nyepi, Bali's version of New Year's Day. The Balinese begin their calendar year with a day of silence. Nobody is allowed to leave their home from sun up to sun down. Even tourists are required to remain in their hotel, resort or homestay. If found wandering the streets, police will ask you to return indoors. The cultural idea behind Nyepi is that if the island is quiet enough, it will fool the evil spirits into thinking it has been abandoned, so that they will go elsewhere. For the Balinese, it's a day of prayer, meditation and reflection. For me, it's been a day of introspection, to catch up on reading and writing and correspondence. I think every country could use a holiday like this, where everything shuts down (even the airport) for a true day of rest.

{MARCH 11, 2013}

What a contrast this state of tranquility is to yesterday's celebrations. On the eve of Nyepi, the streets are busy and far from quiet. Locals are dressed in their best attire for morning temple ceremonies and the echo of the gamelan can be heard from anywhere along the main road in Ubud. Monsters (called ogoh-ogoh) crafted from foam and papier mâché are carried into town from nearby villages. The ogoh-ogoh represent evil spirits and are made by different organizations in each village. A considerable amount of monetary donations and weeks of labor go into making each one. I was impressed with the level of detail, creativity and individuality expressed. They are built on a grid of bamboo poles so that they can be carried by the boys in the organization.  

 

In Ubud, these artful statues are brought to the football field where they can be admired by the public. Some of the ogoh-ogoh are as tall as buildings and others light up at night or have a robotic mouth that opens to breathe steam. I got to the football field in the early afternoon and ordered a Bintang from one of the pubs facing the grassy lot. I sat down at a table that was reserved by a local expat, a Danish-Senegalese artist. He invited me to join his party where I got a taste of Ubud's colorful and thriving expatriate community. When the sun set, I rejoined the crowd on the field. The Balinese organizations were wearing matching t-shirts and sarongs. Entire families came out for the parade of ogoh-ogoh. Drums sounded. The young men carried the giant monsters, spinning them in circles while chanting. The girls led the procession into the street with blazing torches and a banner bearing the name of the organization. After the parade, the ogoh-ogoh are carried back to their home villages, where they're either destroyed (by fire until recent years) or put up for sale.

It was a loud and festive celebration in the streets of Ubud that night--surreal, spellbinding and sensational. The following morning was so impossibly quiet, I wondered for a moment if I had merely dreamed it all.

How to Speak Australian

Before I came to Australia, I considered myself a native English speaker. But as it turns out and as my friends are constantly reminding me, I speak American, not "proper English." The English spoken in Australia tends to favor the vocabulary and spelling used in the UK. The Aussie lingo is full of slang words and abbreviations. If a word can be shortened or given a nickname, the Aussies have found a way to do it. So to help my fellow Americans traveling down under, I've created this short guide to understanding the Australian language:

Ambo- ambulance

Arvo- afternoon

Barbie- barbecue

Bikkie- biscuit (cookie) 

Bin- trashcan, garbage can

Bottle'o, bottle shop- liquor store

Brekkie- breakfast

Brickies- brick laying professionals

Bushwalking- hiking, trekking

Capsicum- bell pepper

Car park- parking lot

Chrissy- Christmas

Chokkie- chocolate

Cockie- cockroach, or cockatoo

Cozzie- swimming costume (swimsuit)

Cuppa- cup of tea

Diary- planner, calendar

Esky- portable insulated cooler

Fairy floss- cotton candy

Footpath- sidewalk

Footy- Aussie Rules Football

Garbo- garbage collector

G'day- hello

Good on ya- well done, good for you

Heaps- a lot, really (That's heaps good; He earned heaps of money.)

Jackaroo- male ranch hand or cattle station manager

Jillaroo- female ranch hand or cattle station manager

Jumper- sweater

Kindie- kindergarten

Knickers- panties, underwear

Lift- elevator

Lollies- candy, sweets

Maccas- McDonald's

Mate- a friend, pal

Mozzie- mosquito

Nappy- diaper

No worries- no problem, I've got it

Op shop- opportunity shop (charity, thrift or secondhand store)

Pav- pavlova (a creamy dessert)

Petrol- gasoline, fuel

Pom, pommie- an Englishman

Postie- postman, mailman

Pram- stroller

Rello, rellie- relative

Rocket- arugula 

Salvos- Salvation Army

Seppo- an American (slang derogatory term derived from septic tank which rhymes with yank)

Shout- a turn or round (I bought the last round of drinks, so it's your shout.)

Singlet- cami, tank top

Sultanas- raisins

Tea time- supper, dinner

Ta- thanks

Thongs- flip-flops

Tomato sauce- ketchup

Trackies- tracksuit

Tradies- tradesmen, trade laborers

Uni- university

Wettie- wetsuit

What's on?- What's happening or playing? (in term of events, movies, & entertainment)

Zebra crossing- crosswalk
Yank- an American

The Backpacking Culture

These first 2 weeks in Australia have been a fast-paced, crazy blur of events. Sometimes I have to pinch myself to realize that I'm actually here, on my own, trying to begin life in a new country. I've been staying at a hostel called WakeUp! which was formerly an eight-story department store. It's located in the CBD, or Central Business District, though it should stand for Central Backpacker's District. Where George Street and Pitt Street intersect, there are an overwhelming number of hostels, backpacker bars, and travel agencies. The streets are crowded with a strange mix of business people in their suits, Asians, and backpackers. We backpackers are like our own race over here.  

How do you spot a backpacker? Aside from the obvious backpack, there are other signs. Boys have unshaven faces, girls' hair is generally unkepmt, & footwear consists of teva sandals, white Converse, or flip flops. You can hear them swapping stories about their latest tattoo and telling tales of their recent travels in Thailand, Figi, or South America. Living in the hostel remindes me a lot of college without the books. I have seven roommates, mostly English, which tend to come and go, as travelers often do. People are constantly discussing money, how there never seems to be enough and how they plan to make their next fortune.  I recently overheard this conversation on my floor: "We should go down to the internet cafe and google sleep clinics / Oh yeah, I forgot we were supposed to donate our sperm today!" Everyone works hard to play hard. The hostel puts on a events each day and there is a bar located in the basement. Pop music blasts in the elevator and the lobby. The kitchen shelves and coolers are jam packed with boxes of cereal, pasta, and "goon" aka cheap boxed wine.  There are bookshelves on each floor with travel books and novels in English, French, German, and Spanish, leftover from backpacks that could no longer accomodate them. 

The backpacking culture is a wild one and while living in a hostel has been fun and provided the opportunity to meet amazing like-minded people, I'm happy to say that I'll be moving out over the weekend. The weather is just starting to warm up in Sydney and I've found a flat to share with two of my new pals, outside the hustle and bustle of the city and closer to the beach. 

Moonrise Kingdom: Taking Fashion Cues from a Twelve Year-Old

Summertime is for movie watching. At least that's the case when you live in a small town and there's not much else to do. My favorite film I've seen this summer is Wes Anderson's new flick-- Moonrise Kingdom. The story takes place in a tiny New England town where two twelve year-old misfits fall in love and run away from home. Sounds cheesy? Well...it is, but in the adorable summer camp romance sort-of-way that only Wes Anderson can create. It's packed with hilarious one-liners and a great soundtrack. If you haven't already seen it, I highly recommend it.

The quirky and imaginative adventures of Sam and Suzy made me want to put on a Francoise Hardy record, pack a picnic and go camping with my kitten. I've always had a thing for 1960s fashion, and I love how little Suzy's micro-mini dresses are on trend with the contrasting collars seen in stores today.

Want to copy Suzy Bishop's style? Slip into one of these darling dresses.
They give a subtle nod to the past, but are totally wearable today.
Click on the picture to shop this look.