LOST IN TRANSLATION

Whilst on a weekend away in Newcastle, I encountered my first experience with a monster. An albeit nice, normal looking monster, but one with a deadly weapon.

A completely unintelligible accent.

Monday afternoon saw myself and two friends (one Australian and one English) in the back of a taxi on the way to the train station attempting to converse with a Scottish man who had the world’s strongest accent. The whole situation rendered me completely stupefied. I was consciously concentrating very hard to understand what he was going on about but it all just came out in this huge, drawn out, mumbled syllable. The only thing I managed to grasp was something about a sister who lives in Australia and someone who glasses someone in a pub….hopefully the two weren’t connected.

Luckily for me, my English friend had obviously taken some lessons in Scottish and was able to hold up the passengers side of the conversation and my Australian friend and I were saved from the humiliation of having said ‘oh yes of course’ to a question which was not of the yes or no variety...

It was only afterwards that it got me thinking about the whole accents phenomenon. How is it that people come to say the same words (well in the Scottish case I swear they weren’t the same) but in a different way?

It is the general consensus that everyone likes the sound of other people’s accents over their own. I find it highly amusing that some of the English I have met love the Australian accent, and for the life of me I cannot figure out why. It’s so terribly nasally and we make up and shorten words like there is no tomorrow.

However, accents are useful tools for two main reasons.

1.       They make you recognisable as coming from a certain country or area and can thus perhaps give you something in common with another person from that country or area.

Or, and most importantly,

2.       It provides endless entertainment for the people who don’t have your accent and are constantly laughing at the way you say things.

I can admit that I have been lucky enough to experience both sides of the argument. Although, perhaps the latter more than the former. Of course.

So despite his interesting speech and pronunciation, I wish to say hello to the nice Scottish man who drove us to the train station. We are all unique individuals and it would be rude of me not to appreciate the speech from your beautiful homeland.

And besides, you can’t help it if no one has a single clue what you are saying.

Do the English learn a lot about the Australian accent from Neighbours?

DEFINITELY (and it’s really not the best teacher guys!)

Was the Scottish man talking about glassing his sister in a pub in Australia?

MAYBE (but I hope not)

Will the English ever truly believe me when I tell them that no one really says ‘throw another shrimp on the barbie’?

PROBABLY NOT! (so please stop asking!)

NO PUN(T) INTENDED

Cambridge. Home of Cambridge University, which was this year voted number one in the world beating out Oxford and Harvard. As with a lot of the places I had been to, Cambridge bought with it many expectations of quaint little rivers, beautiful old college buildings and little men steering punts with long sticks and those ugly boat shoes.

Well fortunately (although unfortunately for the boat shoes) I was lucky enough to experience it all.

The morning of the Cambridge trip arrived and I felt – not amazing at all. In the space of half and hr I had convinced myself that I should stay and get better because it was a long way to Cambridge and then changed my mind again because I so desperately did not want to miss out. Luckily, my somewhat jealous streaked reared its ugly head, and it was the thought that everyone else was going to have a great day and have so many good photos that got me on that bus!

It was a long (3 hr) bus ride to Cambridge (well long for English standards anyway…I virtually spanned the nation!) However, once we arrived at the beautiful little town, all thoughts of being cramped and cold on the bus were forgotten.

We began at Kings College, the most visited and well known in all of Cambridge. The buildings were amazing and the Kings College Abbey towered over them all. Being the nosy children that we are, we took a sneak peek into a couple of the rooms on the ground floor – it was so crazy to think that students actually stay in this place! We also saw some people having lunch in the dining hall… a dining hall that looked like something from Harry Potter….can you say jealous!

Just a note here: I also found out that tuition fees at Cambridge (and I’m assuming Oxford as well) are not anymore expensive then what you would pay elsewhere in England. Yes, you have to be the best of the best to get in but I was very surprised to learn the fees are very equal. Made Louise and I wonder why Adelaide doesn’t do an exchange with Cambridge?!?! And why we didn’t do it?!?

The rest of the morning we spent wandering around looking at the buildings, ducking into cute little shops and perusing the Saturday markets. All I wanted to do in Cambridge was go punting on the river and our prayers were answered by the most handsome punter alive: a.k.a Tom.

Tom took us on a tour down the river, past all of the colleges and the historical buildings and monuments. Everything was so nice and the sun came out just for us. The boat was a little unstable with 6 of us in it but Tom assures us it is actually quite difficult to capsize. And if he said it, it must be right. Louise and I got some really good photos (of the view and Tom of course) and we bid our punter adieu as he collected a new group. Sigh.

Afterwards we climbed the main tower in the square to see the view from the top. Little did we know it was what felt like hundreds of steps to the top in a staircase that you would not have fit in if you had eaten too many donuts that day. And don’t even get me started on the way down, it was so steep! But the view was amazing, as we were there just as the sun was beginning to go down and the girls got some great shots (remember people that the sun starts going down at about 3 here!)

Ate high tea and scones at a nice little café (with terrible service but that’s ANOTHER story) with all the girls and sat back basking in the Cambridge air. Got on the wrong bus to go home and were promptly redirected to our bus where EVERYONE was waiting for us (ooopppssss) and headed back to Leeds.

If you were going to go to any University would it be Cambridge?

DEFINITELY

Was the fudge from the Saturday markets one of the best I’ve had?

MAYBE

Will Cambridge still be Louise’s ‘favourite place ever’ once we go somewhere new? (keeping in mind her ‘favourite place ever’ was the Lake District. And then Bath. And then Cambridge….)

PROBABLY NOT!

X

SMALL THINGS THAT AMUSE BIG MINDS WHEN THEY’RE NOT THINKING ABOUT BIG THINGS

Cultural adjustment is a tedious thing. Yes, England and Australia are both Westernized societies and are firmly set in their Western ways. However, there are many small, some would deem insignificant, things about life her in the Motherland which are irksome, tiresome and just generally piss me off.

A list of such things is as follows:

Computer keyboards.

I must admit, I did not originally think this would be a problem I would need to contend with on a daily basis. But after discovering now that I do indeed have a severe problem with them it has been constantly bugging me. Firstly, a few of the keys are in the wrong spot. The @ sign is underneath the apostrophe (now that’s just plain weird). And I spent a good five minutes looking like a complete retard searching the keyboard for the comma. I’m guessing though that the English lack of grammar could be attributed to other people’s inability to also find the comma key…

Secondly, NO ONE uses the number pad at the end of the keyboard. I think this very odd. I hate the numbers on a laptop because they are in one line and my fingers aren’t long enough. However, on a computer keyboard it is all located nicely for you in one little square. But every time I go to use it, some dickhead has turned the ‘Num lock’ off and I end up printing no numbers and making a right mess of whatever I’m trying to work on. I swear I used the same computer in one day and someone had TURNED IT OFF… I don’t understand why that is even necessary! I mean I know that a little light comes on when you do it, but surely they are not THAT much conscious of their electricity consumption. LEAVE NUMBERS LOCK ON PEOPLE!

Sugar.

Here in England the coffee shops are run much like Australian coffee shops. Except on the whole, with exceptions of course, the coffee in England is largely terrible. So in my attempt to make it palatable I look to the little condiments booth in most coffee shops for my sugar. And there we have white sugar, brown sugar and sweetener: all of which are unacceptable. A large proportion of Australian coffee selling establishments provide RAW sugar for people’s hot beverages. I am a big raw sugar fan. A) because it takes better and B) because its like brown sugar, but far superior, and you don’t feel so bad putting it in your drink because its not obese producing white sugar. Well England have apparently not been hit on the head by the Raw Sugar fairy and have Brown Sugar instead. Brown Sugar should be put on top of an apple crumble and NOT in my skim latte.

Not happy.

Slow Walking People.

Anyone who calls themselves my friend knows that the one thing I hate more than anything in the entire world is people who walk slowly in front of you. If I’m walking somewhere, most of the time it will be because I need to get somewhere and there is nothing I hate more than people that prevent you from doing so. Yes, they might have carefree lives where they have all the time in the world to meander down the road but I do not and would kindly prefer for them to get out of the bloody way.

I do not intend to be racist when I say this, because there are a lot of other people who commit this crime regularly. But I will have to deem the English as one of the worst offenders I have ever seen.  Most of the time I believe it to be students who are either trying to put off their inevitable arrival to a lecture, or are still trying to figure out how to put one foot in front of the other after a big night out.  You would think that a country like England, which has weather as a bad as it does, the general population would not hesitate in their trips between warmly heated buildings. Get a move on people! This Australian is not happy!

So there it is, another rant to fill in the abyss that is another rainy afternoon. Of course there are also many good things about England, some that I even prefer to our Australian way of doing things.

But those are so nice. And boring.

Nobody wants to read about that right?

Will the English Winter be the death of me?

DEFINITELY (no seriously it could be, it is so cold!)

Should the English adopt some of the Australian ways?

MAYBE

Will I miss having to pay 10p per page for printing at the University when we get over $30 FREE PRINTING CREDIT in Adelaide?

PROBABLY NOT!

X

ITS ALL ABOUT THE DOLLARS AND SENSE

I hate English money. There I said it. You are now free to come and attacked me with your torches and pitchforks and yell blasphemous insults in my direction but, to follow in the steps of the suave Rhett Butler, ‘frankly my dear I don’t give a damn’.

So herein follows the justification I have for hating the currency of this grand country.

Number #1: The Penny. There are not enough words in the English language (or any other language for that matter) which can successfully explain how useless these tiny bits of copper are. And if that wasn’t bad enough there are two of them! The argument is that they are necessary because in England, items are not rounded up to the nearest 5c (or p depending on where you’re from) so when a sausage roll costs 1 pound and 82 pence they mean exactly 1 pound and 82 pence. In my opinion 1 and 2 p coins only serve 2 purposes, neither of which are particularly comforting. One, they serve to largely bulk up your wallet making it appear as though you have more money than you actually do. And two, it is handy to give to charities who don’t make a whole lot of money because all they are getting from other people are their 1p coins as well.

Boo for the penny.

Number #2: English ATM’s. The automated teller machine is one of man’s best inventions. It is the epitome of convenience and ease of use. Well apparently that memo was not passed on to the English who have attempted to make the world’s most complicated ATM’s. First of all, they do not give out 50 pound notes. As you can only get them from the bank, it is very rare to see a student in possession of one.

(Side note: this would explain the story of when I first got here and I was at a club waiting at the bar to be served, clearly displaying my 50 pound note. The guy next to me saw this and wittily commented ‘you must either be a foreigner or a member of the mafia’. Right. Duly noted)

So because of this, when you go to an ATM and try to withdraw 100 pounds, its anyone’s guess as to what assortment of notes you will get. It is unnecessarily complicated and very frustrating!

And don’t get me started on how many more buttons you have to push too…I just want money, not to send Morse Code to Mars!

Number #3: Say it together English people, ‘WATERPROOF’. English money is made from paper. Paper that has not been laminated. This is an alien notion to us Australians, and I can assure you that yes, it is just as impractical as it sounds. Whilst I was in Manchester, after just arriving in England, I watched in amusement as a lady tried repeatedly to feed a wet 10 pound note into the machine dispensing the tram tickets. Because it was soggy the machine did not accept it and she left in search of another ticket-buying avenue, just as the tram arrived.

So that’s my rant about the complex and unnecessary problems the English have imposed upon their monetary system. Perhaps they should just take a leaf out of the Australian’s book where everything seems a lot less complicated. I mean its paper and circles of metal; it’s not rocket science people!

Is Australian money far superior to the English?

DEFINITELY

Are the two pound coins the only good thing about English money?

MAYBE (they are prettier to look at than the Australian ones…)

Will I ever miss digging around in my penny-laden purse looking for that 7p?

PROBABLY NOT!

THROWING THE BABY OUT WITH THE BATH WATER

Bath is known in England for being a place of refinement, royalty and class. It is where many a Jane Austen heroine came to frequent ‘The Pump Room’ and lunch with those in the high society. It was also where the sick and stressed came to ‘take in’ the waters of Bath, and leave rejuvenated and revived. So when two bus loads of rowdy foreign tourists exploded into town, the ambience perhaps was taken a little by surprise.

However, they have little need for complaint, Bath is a tourist town and it is not hard to see why. From the minute you drive in the architecture and general ‘vibe’ of the place is breathtaking. The majority of the buildings and houses are crafted from Bath Stone, the quality of which is still heavily maintained today. After leaving our bags in the hostel we grabbed our camera’s and set off in search of our very own Jane Austen moment.

Of course with Louise as my travelling companion, what is the one thing on our mind 99% of the time whilst travelling?

a)      How hungry we are

b)      What we have eaten

c)       What we plan to be eating later

d)      Scoping out new potential places to eat.

Lord knows how we are not broke and the size of houses by now.

So after making the compulsory eating pit stop at a quaint little café hidden in a tiny courtyard, we made our way to the Roman Baths. Easily the biggest attraction in Bath, the Roman Baths contains the baths themselves (duh), an extensive and interesting museum, and The Pump Room where the lesser folk can eat amazingly overpriced high tea and imagine themselves in a terribly riveting conversation with Mr Darcy. Took many a photo overlooking the beautiful waters, and although we were given the option for a taste, politely declined. (We were advised that the almost green, murky water, tastes about as good as it looks…)

That afternoon we perused Bath Abbey and took a stroll down the centre of town. Credit goes to the designers of the shopping ‘district’ who took great care to uphold the architecture of Bath, even in some of the very new buildings.

Saturday night we had dinner with the rest of the tour group at Salamander’s, a ritzy English pub with a reasonably ritzy price list. You only live once though right and when you’re paying 9 pounds for a meal, I still can’t help but read that as 9 dollars which is an unbelievable bargain! (please no comments about the exchange rate and how that is actually about $17 Aus dollars….ignorance is bliss!) Also, Louise and I sampled some of the local Bath cider which was commendably good.

After dinner, we donned our Halloween costumes and headed out. I was having a major stress out because I had misplaced my camera (although luckily someone had it), but once it was recovered I was intent on partying down Halloween style. That was until we got the club the tour had recommended and were greeted by a virtually empty room, except for the token creepy old guys that stand in the corner and do a very unfunny Joey Tribbianni ‘how you doing’ impersonation…

So with that, we moved on to a pub a few blocks down that was pumping. Despite the fact that it was playing SAW on all 4 television screens (it took all my strength not to scream and cover my eyes), the music was good so I was forced to overlook their interesting choice of Halloween entertainment and bear it.

 The next day saw us up bright and early for destination: Stonehenge! Now Louise and I had both heard very mixed opinions about this wonderfully weird stone circle. Some had said it was exactly what it sounded like ‘a circle of rocks’ and one of the not so lovely Eastern European guys on our trip commented ‘we have much better rocks than that in the Czech Republic’.

Uh huh.

So we armed ourselves in the only way possible – talk it down a lot and then if it’s bad you aren’t disappointed and if it’s good, you will be pleasantly surprised. And that is how we came to be standing in front of Stonehenge and commenting in awe ‘actually it is pretty cool’. It still amazes me how they even got there (not that anyone really knows). They say the stones originate from Wales. So how the hell did they get all the way to Southern England? Somehow I don’t think Bob the Builder and his team were around to lend a helping hand…

After saying goodbye to the mystifying mystery that is Stonehenge, we travelled on to Avebury; Stonehenge’s awkwardly less popular cousin. There are more rocks at Avebury and they encircle the whole village which is actually creepily cool. Whilst we were there, we witnessed a very strange procession of people walking through the rocks – they looked like they had misplaced the address of the Harry Potter convention and were chanting and banging on drums….

The strangeness of the English? Exhibit A….

On the way home we visited a quaint little farm shop, where the bus stocked up on home made goodies. I think the ladies working in the shop nearly had a heart attack, there had never been so many people in the shop!

From there we started the 2 hour journey back to Leeds (LOVE that England is so small!) tired but satisfied we had indulged the young Jane Austen, and weird rock worshipper, that lives within us all.

Was I just a little excited to be visiting the very places that have leapt from the pages of Jane Austen?

DEFINITELY

Were aliens from outer space trying to use Stonehenge to contact earthlings?

MAYBE

Could I ever be convinced to try the ‘amazing’ Bath water which looks like it had been scooped out of a muddy puddle?

PROBABLY NOT!

X

SPRECHEN ZIE ENGLISCH?

I didn’t see any hills in Austria.

Ask anyone and they will tell you, the two things that come to mind when you think of Austria is

a) The Sound of Music

b) That lady from Mary Poppins who was in the Sound of Music.

Ashamedly I did not see any hills at all, let alone those which are alive with the sound of music…And, even more depressingly, I did not see Julie Andrews….

So what did experience did Austria have to share with me you ask? Why only the best of course!

I arrived in Austria very late on a Thursday night after being in three airports, two planes and a train (its funny how I now complain about that when coming from Australia you have to travel 3 DAYS to get anywhere…) Found myself a taxi and after forgetting they drove on the other side of the road and trying to get in the drivers door (which resulted in very queer looks from said driver) we headed for my hostel. This hostel in question did not come with a name, although one would have thought that an essential part of their original marketing plan…. All I had was a very long and very German sounding address and a whole lot of hope that the guy knew where he was going. Thankfully we reached the hostel in one piece and although he completely ripped me off, after the aforementioned three airports, two planes and a train I simply did not give a toss anymore.

When I entered my room I found it to be occupied by one other girl. We started chatting and she was lovely. Unfortunately for me, her accent was that terrible combination of American and Canadian which a foreigner can never quite figure out.  As a result I employed the only tactic I knew in order to find out her nationality; ask her where in Canada she is from. It’s foolproof really, if she was Canadian she would be happy to tell me and if she was American she would have scoffed at me but have been quick to correct me and deem herself as far superior to the Canadians…it’s a win – win for everyone involved!

The city of Vienna was beautiful. The buildings were so huge and ornate, and with a palace on every corner it was hard to know which way to look. Went to the Spanish Riding School and watched the white Lippizaner’s in action in their amazing tiered arena, under the biggest chandelier I’ve seen in my life. Met up with Pete in the afternoon and spent Friday wandering around the city, stopping for the compulsory three coffee and cake stops along the way. After dinner we stopped for an affogato on the balcony of this lovely Viennese café – another one of those ‘pinch myself cause I still can’t believe I’m here’ moments. Too bad I wasn’t there with George Clooney, but you know, you make do with what you can (sorry Pete!)

Saturday saw us visit the amazing Naschmarkt: a large, open marketplace filled with every kind of produce you can imagine and even some that you can’t. After yet another coffee stop (I think we were on a permanent coffee high the whole time) we took the tube to Prater, Vienna’s amusement park and home of the world famous Riesenrad Ferris Wheel.  I would be lying if I said I wasn’t bouncing around like a little kid at Christmas in anticipation of this moment. Why you ask? Well it turns out (accordingly to Pete’s Lonely Planet which never lies) that the Riesenrad is the setting of the world famous scene from Carol Reed’s The Third Man where Orson Welle’s character Harry Lime tells Holly Martins:

‘In Italy for thirty years under the Borgias they had warfare, terror, murder, bloodshed - but they produced Michelangelo, Leonardo da Vinci, and the Renaissance. In Switzerland they had brotherly love, 500 years of democracy and peace, and what did that produce? The cuckoo clock.’

 And although, once you actually get on the Ferris Wheel the moment is somewhat ruined by the other ten strangers in the carriage and the distraction of the amazing view, the awe of the moment was not lost on me.

Carrying on with the child theme (must have been something in the water that day) I wanted to go on a proper ride. After weighing up our many options, I managed to twist Pete’s arm to come on the ‘Prater Turn’ with me. Not for the height-o-phobes amongst us, the Prater Turn is like the traditional circular ride where the swings hang down and you spin around. However, like most things in Europe that we have in Australia, it was SO much better as it rose higher into the air as you went around. The only downside was the Austrian air which was ah ‘crisp’ to the say the least. I remember Pete wondering why I was crying – it wasn’t voluntary people, my eyes were watering it was so cold!

After strategically planning the ride for BEFORE lunch (which in hindsight is the best decision we made all day considering how much food we ate), we headed to the Schweizzerhaus for their Austrian famous pork. Ordered beers in steins as big as my head and sat in the sun eating some of THE best food I’ve had in my travels so far (and that is a big call after the Amsterdam Waffle Eating Mania of September 2010).

Sunday morning we headed off to Schobruhn, the AMAZING royal palace. Walking into the grounds was like walking into a Jane Austen novel; I was expecting to see Mr Darcy descending from the stairs at any minute. Deciding against having a tour of the palace’s 1440 rooms (see one gold plated room and you’ve seen them all) we took a stroll round the grounds. This did, however, turn into a half marathon after we realised how big the grounds actually were. Saw our first Austrian squirrel (!) and hiked up the hill to the beautiful ‘arch thing’ (not its official royal name of course) to get a panoramic view of Vienna. 

That afternoon we left the hustle and bustle of the city behind for the quaintness of the Austrian countryside. I stayed with Pete in Andau, and over the next day and a half was treated to two things I was looking forward to the most in Austria:

a)      Schnitzel

b)      Wine

(It should not be any surprise to my readers by now that both were part of the food/drink category!) Not surprisingly, both lived up to my very high expectations. Spent all of Monday wine tasting, eating and drinking coffee (did I mention is the coffee capital of the world?!!) and left for the airport content that I had experienced the best Austria had to offer.

Here are the top 3 things I learnt from my time in Austria:

1.      As they drive on the right hand side of the road (weirdos…) it is also public etiquette to stand on the right hand side of the stairs and escalators. Which, through force of habit I did not. Having said this I learnt very quickly after getting some very seedy looks from some very seedy looking Austrians. Recommendation #1: if you value your life do not stand on the wrong side of the stairs in front of an Austrian in a hurry. Even the signs saying ‘stay to the right’ ended in an exclamation mark! These Austrians mean serious business people!

2.      The phonebook for Austria (and I’m guessing most of the German speaking countries) must be about 5000 pages long to fit in the street names of its residents. I swear some of the street signs you needed a good ten seconds to be able to read! There should be a rule that a street name should never have more than 30 letters! It’s just not practical people! Although on this subject I would like to say to the female population out there in cyber land reading this – I did our species proud in the directional department girls! Numerous times I proved that I did in fact know which way to go (much to Pete’s amazement!)

3.      And finally, I came to see how friendly the Austrian people are. Even though 70% of the time I had no idea what they were saying, they meant it in the nicest way possible!

So, although I did not see any musical hills or any yodelling (oh wait, is that Switzerland?....) there are many amazing things I can take away from my Austrian wanderings:

Did I come back with a suitcase full of tacky souvenirs? (like always!)

DEFINITELY

Will the supply of Austrian chocolate I bought last more than a day?

MAYBE (but I wouldn’t put money on it)

Will I ever forget the look on the faces of many Austrian’s we spoke to in English who had no bloody idea what we said?

PROBABLY NOT!

X

SECOND IS JUST THE FIRST OF THE LOSERS

There can be no doubt that both England are Australia are proud sporting nations. Our very cultures have a strong focus on all aspects of sport but more vitally on winning sport. We were both there to learn the lesson that there is point in playing to lose. Our countries are comprised of a bunch of power thirsty winners, itching for bragging rights over the other until the next season/competition.

Petty you ask? If you do then you simply do not understand.

Here is where the dilemma of being an Australian living in England comes into play…. When it comes to the sporting world we are not England’s favourite people. In fact, we are one of the few countries that is standing in the way of your total global domination in many sports. 

Now if that doesn’t make me fear for my life here I don’t know what will.

It pays never to be too confident when England is in competition with Australia. Both are renowned for their successes and talents in various sports and it would be very dangerous to write off either nation’s ability to come from behind at the last minute (2003 Rugby World Cup Final anyone??!?!)

Having said all of this, there is one special time in the sporting calendar that comes around every four years which has its own little place in the heart of all Australians. It’s when the collective pride of the nation swells to a point of explosion; where we really get to show the English who is rightfully boss in the sporting arena.

No it’s not Christmas ladies and gentlemen, but more commonly referred to as The Commonwealth Games. 

The Commonwealth Games is like all of Australia’s Christmas’s have come at once. Not only do we get to revel in our unmatched sporting success but without America there, we are finally given a proper chance to show our domination over poor old England (sorry!)

I was lucky enough to be present at the Melbourne Commonwealth Games in 2006 and it was undoubtedly one of the best week’s of my life. The Aussie sporting spirit was out loud and proud and with our national team winning TWICE (yes, lets say it again TWICE) as many medals as England, we couldn’t have been any happier than if the government decided to give us another public holiday (which the English have hardly any of let me remind you!) So what is the key to this domination you ask? Well I can hardly deem myself an expert but here are a couple of my theories:

Theory #1: Australian’s do not like to lose. Therefore, we will do almost anything humanely possible to make our teams the best they can possibly be – and most often than not that translates into being the best in the world.

Theory #2: Money. The Australian government has recognised how vital a sporting cultural is to our nation. Therefore they have injected a lot of money into making sure our teams and individuals are of the highest quality. And this is also linked to point one, because a losing Australia is not a happy Australia and that is not good for any government…

Theory #3: We don’t really have anything better to do. Australians are perhaps the most relaxed people in the world. We don’t really care about anything. Yes, we highly value the ideals of having a family and forging a career and having a fulfilling life but ultimately we just like to do nothing. Whilst the English are running around back and forth from their 12 hr jobs in the freezing cold in traffic jams as long as some small countries, us Aussies are sitting on a beach somewhere playing a game of cricket with our friends and family.

Practice makes perfect remember

So don’t be too disheartened England, simply follow these three rules and you might be able to enjoy at least a small part of the sporting rapture we bask in everyday.

Or maybe not. I didn’t say I was a miracle worker…

Are 37 more Gold medals than England quite a thrashing?

DEFINITELY

Will the English be victorious in the Ashes this year?

MAYBE (but for the mental state of my country let’s hope not!)

Will England and Australia ever lose this rivalry, the base of which our very friendship was founded on?

PROBABLY NOT!

X

TO STREAK OR NOT TO STREAK...THAT IS THE QUESTION...

10,000 screaming fans.

A sports match

A frosty night.

7 very brave Streakers.

The culmination of all these things, my fellow Australians, is what the student population of Leeds fondly refer to as Varsity. The cut throat rugby final, and last match of the Varsity sport competition between The University of Leeds and Leeds Metropolitan University (or SuperTafe to you Adelaideans).

When Louise suggested that she and I attend such a prestigious event (with a very friendly price tag of 7 pounds I might add) I was at first intrigued. Yes, I am happy to admit I know ABSOLUTELY nothing about rugby (and still don’t know anything – even post game). Us real Australians (sorry all u NSW and QLD’s) watch and follow Australian Rules Football; the real mans game. However, I was willing to put my ignorance in the hands of the Varsity rival game in the hope that it would reward me with a full and uplifting experience.

Unfortunately I am still convinced the game is still a bunch of muscular guys pushing each other around on a field of grass and occasionally making a poorly imitated Oussain Bolt dash for the try line….

But that is another point altogether.

We arrived at the ground with Tom and Fran only to find the line for smart people like us who had pre-purchased tickets was ENORMOUS and the line for people who were too lazy to get off their asses was NON EXISTENT. A girl behind me was even considering buying a new ticket just to skip the line. I tell you sometimes these English have it very backward…

My patience having been tested (although for an impatient soul like myself that’s not too hard to achieve) we finally arrived inside the Headingly Stadium. The game had already started and the roar of the crowd was pretty amazing.  I think there was meant to be separate stands for each University (for a uni game….I know right!) so we sat in front of a very large, and vocal group of Leeds Uni students. A massive shout out to the people that came up with the chant ‘If you cant go to uni go to Met’ to the tune of ‘If your happy and you know it clap your hands’ – that is an example of musical genius to the utmost degree!

We were cautioned that, whilst it is would be in our best patriotic nature to wear our Leeds Uni hoodies, it also acts as a huge red bullseye for a Leeds Met person wanting to throw beer on an unsuspecting soul. Needless to say the hoodie was left at home, in favour of more suitably neutral attire.

Having already learnt that Leeds Uni did not have very good odds to grasp the win (who would of thought Leeds Met were actually good at something?!?!), it was not a shock when Leeds Met took a convincing lead. However, the atmosphere of simply being in such an amazing crowd was enough for me to overlook the fact we were copping a flogging (losing really badly in English speak, sorry!)

Shortly afterwards I was introduced to the finely perfected English art of streaking. This is not to say that Australians have anything against taking their clothes off and running around a sports field (in fact some don’t even need the sports field part…) but it is definitely more apparent here. The reason for this can perhaps be attributed to the fact that in Australia it is likely you will get arrested for causing ‘public disturbance’ or at the very least wacked with a few hundred dollar fine. Here, you are ejected from the game and fined 80 pounds. Now, personally I think that is all the encouragement a wannabe streaker needs, if you and your friends all go in for the fine it’s so cheap, even by student standards! And yes you get ejected from the ground, but really it’s SO totally worth it and you have something really good to brag about at the pub afterwards!

At half time they made the presentations for the winners of the rest of the Varsity sports played over the tournament. Now this is the part, I was least looking forward to as this is what we heard:

Men’s Basketball:                                             Leeds Met! (cheer from the Leeds Met students)

Women’s Basketball:                                      Leeds Met! (see above)

Men’s Football:                                                 Leeds Met! (again see above)

Just about every sport ever created:       Leeds Met!

Men’s Professional Monopoly Playing:  Leeds Met!

(ok well maybe not but you can see how the trend developed)

Leeds Uni did come away with the win in a few things so hope was not all lost and the best thing about not winning a lot is, when we did the cheer was enormous! (probably more out of relief than anything else but that’s irrelevant!)

Leeds Uni did fight back in true underdog style at the end to only come up 12 points behind Leeds Met at the final siren, producing what I was told was one of the closest margins of the recent years. Good job Uni!

So the whole process was a rather steep learning curve for me, for the reasons outlined below:

a)      There would never be such a great rivalry in Adelaide but I really love how it produces a healthy competition that gives people a side to really get behind.

b)      I still do not have an understanding of rugby and honestly have no intention of developing one

c)       I saw many parts of the human anatomy which, effected by the frosty conditions, I wish to never, ever see again.

d)      And lastly, regardless of who won, surely a University’s merit must be largely based on its academic record and the intelligence of its very students.

After all, if you can’t go to Uni go to Met!

Was the crowd atmosphere electric?

DEFINITELY

Was it a little disheartening that we lost?

MAYBE

Will I ever forget the image of the fat, little security guards running after, and diving on, the streakers?

PROBABLY NOT!

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SAVE THE UGG BOOT!

Ugg Boots are an Australian icon. Shared with our Tasman Sea counterparts, New Zealand, Ugg Boots represent what it means to be quintessentially Australasian; relaxed and comfortable. It was not until I reached the land of Her Majesty that I realised how much you are abusing our cultural icon! Whilst this abuse is occurring in more ways than I care to count, here are the Top 3 Ugg Boot commandments the English have not only broken but completely disregarded!

1)      UGG BOOTS SHOULD NEVER, UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES, BE WORN AS SERIOUS OUTDOOR FOOTWEAR

Ugg Boots are essentially fancy slippers. Slippers are NOT suitable outdoor footwear and therefore neither should Ugg Boots. Wikipedia defines the term ‘Ugg Boots’ as ‘unisex sheepskin boots, made of twin-faced sheepskin with fleece on the inside and with a tanned outer surface, often with a synthetic sole’. NOTE THE TERM SYNTHETIC SOLE. Now of course we are all aware Wikipedia is hardly the gospel according to ‘insert some religious name here’, but synthetic soles are not made to withstand English Winters! They are not even made to withstand Australian Winters and that’s just basically Spring with rain! Ugg Boots are intended for indoor purposes only. Of course all Australians would be lying if they didn’t admit to wearing them to the supermarket to grab some milk or the petrol station but these are MINOR INDISCRETIONS compared to how you abuse them here!

You wouldn’t wear your PJ’s to University or out to lunch with friends, so don’t wear your PJ footwear!

2)      WHILST HIGH QUALITY VARIETIES ARE ESSENTIAL, UGG BOOTS SHOULD ALWAYS REMAIN A CHEAP, AFFORDABLE COMMODITY

There are many companies in Australia who are famous for their amazingly comfortable high quality Ugg Boots. Made from the best material and often hand crafted, there will always be a market for these high class products. HOWEVER, having said this, Australia is a democracy and believes all Australians should have access to the iconic Ugg Boot, regardless of how much money one has. Therefore there are many, many cheaper options available and sold throughout department stores. Yes, the quality may not be as good but it is about creating unity and equality within the Australian, Ugg wearing public. I’m afraid the same cannot be said of the UK where as a student you almost need to sell your liver to be able to afford a good pair. Now I do realise they are being imported from Australia, and that will therefore add more to the cost, but 200 pounds for a pair of slippers is absolutely outrageous! Every pair of Uggies I’ve had in my lifetime wouldn’t add up to that much!

3)      THE ATTIRE WORN WITH UGG BOOTS MUST BE OF A SIMILAR NATURE

Ugg Boots are a CASUAL footwear. They were designed with the purpose of keeping your feet warm in your house in Winter. They are, and the English please repeat after me, NOT to be worn as a fashion statement. There is a very good reason why Ugg Boots are yet to appear on the catwalk in Paris or Milan…. They are not high fashion! It breaks my heart to see a well dressed English girl, oozing style from head to thigh and then ruin the whole thing with a pair of Ugg Boots.

Whilst Aussies love our Uggies, there is also a certain amount of discretion used in the wearing of them. Worn predominantly with track pants, they seem to effortlessly blend into the outfit. Here, they are worn over stockings or leggings and stick out like an Australian accent in the royal family!

Having completely torn into England’s abuse of the poor Ugg Boot I do have one concession to make. Of course the United Kingdom should be allowed the freedom to give the Aussie Ugg Boot its own unique British identity – it would be unfair of us as a fellow Commonwealth nation, to impose our rules upon them.

But that doesn’t mean we can’t still take the piss out of them!

Are Ugg Boots designed solely for indoor use?

DEFINITELY

Will I kill the next girl who attempts to defend England’s use of Ugg Boots?

MAYBE

Will it ever stop being a source of endless entertainment for us Aussie girls?

PROBABLY NOT!

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THE DAY I LOST MY OTLEY RUN VIRGINITY

The Otley Run. Just those three words can bring about several emotions in the minds of a Leeds student.

a)      Excitement

b)      An assortment of cringe worthy embarrassing memories

Or c) and most commonly, the sudden need to throw up.

This ladies and gentlemen is the pub crawl to end all pub crawls we fondly refer to as the Otley Run.

Nationally famous, The Otley Run is a pub crawl from Headingly, through Hyde Park and the University, and finally finishing in the City. Of course each run varies but most visit 12-16 pubs along the way, which in comparison to the Australian pub crawls I’ve been on is super hardcore!

Could a lightweight (Cadbury to you Aussies) like myself be able to take on such a challenge? I was about to find out when we embarked on the International and Study Abroad Society’s Saturday Afternoon Otley Run.

Dressing up is a quintessential part of having an Otley Run. The theme for this said pub crawl was ‘British Stereotypes’ and so with that in mind fellow Australia Myf and I came decked out in our best David Beckham impression – minus the stick thin wafer of a wife of course. Was an excellent choice for a costume as it allowed for comfortable clothes and suitable shoes for such a long walk!

Our Otley Run began at Woodies in Headingly, and it was only as we were taking a cab out there did we realise how far we really did have to go. I clearly remember looking out the window at every pub we passed (the majority of which were on the list for this very event) and thinking: ‘this is going to get messy…’

If there was a prize for the best costume (which just quietly there should have been), our other St Markian’s Tash and Lizzie would have won hands down. The girls looked just ‘dahling’ dressed as English tea ladies complete with hats, gloves and tea cups. Tea cups which they used to drink their vodka out of, not exactly the purpose they were designed for but traditional all the same.  As for the others there was an assortment of Queens, tweed attired horse people and chavs. The Chavs were my personal favourite and the most realistic; I think we must have passed some identical look alikes on our way down the crawl! There were also a few other crawls going on the same time as ours and we saw many people dressed in weird and wonderful things. A shout out has to go to the guy wearing a full elephant costume complete with trunk….

I made the number one Otley Run mistake at the second pub, The Three Horseshoes.  Repeat after me: ‘The Otley Run moves quickly. Therefore thou shall not order a pint unless one can be guaranteed of consuming said beverage in the allotted amount of time’. Adhere to this rule I did not, and had to skull half a pint to catch up with the very fast paced crawl. Learnt from my mistakes at the rest though and did not dally with my drinks – an Otley Run is not the time for a lazy cider, it serious drinking business….

As the crawl wound its way to the City, we walked from place to place caring less and less about the troubles in our worlds. There is a general rule that if you make it to the Library/The Eldon you have done a fair effort but we were going along just fine. We stopped for refuelling at the Library for one of their famous Cajun Chicken Burgers (with Curly fries right Tom!) only to be told they had stopped serving food. It was as devastating to a drunk, hungry Leeds student as if we have had just been told our right arms were to be amputated. Although that would be troubling also because how were we to then hold our drinks….

So we traipsed down the road to the Eldon where we approached the bar with fingers crossed that they were still serving food.  To our immense excitement they were and we all ordered in rapid succession as if our very lives depended on it. And then after our food did come, I ate four chips and then proceeded to empty my ENTIRE meal on the floor. Excellent. Luckily, we managed to salvage some of it, and a lovely girl who worked there got the kitchen to supplement the rest. Which she reminded me to tell anyone who asked that I had paid for….

After the Eldon we  were meant to pop in at the Old Bar and the Terrace but as someone accurately pointed out, both would have been full to the brim with Freshers from Freshers Ball, so it was to my relief that we bypassed both and trooped down the road to The Fenton. And this would be where myself and most of my crew hit our wall. We had been crawling for over eight hours and we had reached the point where we could crawl no longer, so after 11 odd pubs we admitted defeat and headed home in the rain.

At least I can say I survived my first Otley Run and lived to tell the tale to other unsuspecting students who think a trip to the Elephant, Tav and Mansions is classed as a ‘real’ pub crawl (for you Adelaide people who know where they are anyway..). And here are my observations from the jam packed drinking afternoon:

Is having a vodka at every pub on The Otley Run a massive achievement for me?

DEFINITELY

Are the photos I took the only real memories I can rely on from the afternoon/evening?

MAYBE

Will I ever forget the sight of the group of grown men dressed as Oompa Lompas?

PROBABLY NOT!

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