Culture Shock: Talk about the weather, not my weight!

Ways of life and thinking can be wildly different between countries and, having met a lot of F’s family, quite a few things that differ between the Italian and the Australian culture have become only too evident to me. I’ve written before about differences in food, particularly the sizes of portions, but now I am going to focus on a different aspect.

Weight. Italian people (in my experience) treat it like it is the Australian equivalent of weather – a perfectly acceptable topic of conversation.

I’m not sure if it’s because Australians are typically on the larger side or whether we are just more conservative and politically correct, but Australian people tend to shy away from the topic of weight. We stick to the topics that can’t be taken the wrong way, avoiding offence and maximising enjoyment.

“How about this bloody weather?” can be heard in Australia rather more frequently than “Well then, you look like you’ve put on a few pounds since I last saw you,” that much is certain.

If a shirt ever described the Australian mentality on weight, this would be it:

The Australian view on talking about weight (Photo Credit: iVillage)

The first time I went to Italy, I couldn’t understand more than a few words here and there. The second time, though, was rather a different story. Perhaps also because they had a comparison point to work from, but whatever the reason, my weight became a lively topic of conversation.

A Winter Day Trip Beyond Amsterdam

Amsterdam is spectacular, but today I’m going to bring to you what lies beyond Amsterdam, in the beautiful surrounds of Holland. If you’d like to read about my take on Amsterdam, you can have a browse here. I, of course, can’t claim to have the knowledge of a local but I most certainly do enjoy a bit of exploring. So here’s what we (F, Younger Sister and myself) found when we went into the countryside for a day trip one fine, albeit cold, day in Holland.

We started our journey by catching the bus to Volendam, a reasonably popular tourist destination, according to our trusty source of the internet. It was a gorgeous little village, a little old fashioned – just they way I like cute villages.

Main Street of Volendam

It is, perhaps, a little too touristy for my liking, as it is most definitely set up for people to stroll down the streets and enjoy the cute atmosphere the place offers (which, more often than not, actually detracts from ones character) but it is a nice sort of place to visit, nonetheless. We even went in the heart of winter, and the place was shining with sun, although our hands were mighty cold.

As you explore the town, there are plenty of things for the discovering. Souvenirs, gorgeous cafes, chocolatiers, and cheese factories. Oh yes, if you have a hankering for some Dutch chocolate or cheese, Volendam has some on offer, and some fine produce at that.

The Messy Signature and Artistic Skills of a Non-Perfectionist

It has come to my attention of late, that I am truly not a perfectionist and my creations tend to be a little sub-par. So much so, that the people around me notice, and feel it appropriate to comment. Let me relate two particular things to explain.

The first is my signature. Once a upon a time I quite liked it. This would be back when I was 13, when I created it. Now, I have the same reaction as when my mother looks at her signature: Urgh, did I really create that? And begin to notice that it’s actually changing – even more for the worse – as I become lazier with it as time goes on.

It wasn’t until I was 17, though, that I noticed someone snicker when they glanced at my signature. It was my host mum in Germany, as she watched my sign a consent form. After I had signed it, a smile escaped from her lips and she asked me, quite incredulously:

“Is that really your signature?”

“Well, yes.” I answered, not too phased since it was the first time someone had asked and I thought maybe they just do signatures differently in Germany, but phased enough to remember it all these years later.

A big sigh of relief.

Oh yes; the moment of relief when things finish up in a good place is indescribably satisfying. When it is time for the well earned sigh to come out, taking all of your angst with it, the accompanying feeling is that of bliss. Oh yes, indeed.

Like this guy, I’m feeling pretty darn relieved that everything went ok (Photo Credit: Infendo)

Admittedly, I’m technically still in the heat of it all, but I’ve reached a temporary completion point, before I’m put under the pump again next week. For the moment, I’m just going to go peacefully on my way and enjoy this peaceful state of being – right up until necessity demands otherwise.

Although this year is only just beginning for most of the students in Australia – the majority start next week – I’ve been working incessantly ever since I set foot in Australia after our Europe Trip, six weeks ago. Which, on a side note, was amazing – you can read my other posts about the brilliant food in Paris, funny train stories and even more funny train stories. The problem is, you see, I didn’t do so well in one of my subjects last year (completely went blank in the exam – which was unfortunately worth 70%) so had to prove to the University that I deserved to pass and continue onto 4th year, by doing an additional exam.

Travelling Don’ts: Taking Dumbbells in your Luggage

A few months ago I remember my eldest sister telling me about something my brother in law had done, and spending the best part of the next two days giggling about the scenario whenever it sprung to my mind.

His folly was just this: on a domestic flight within Australia, he attempted to take dumbbells in his luggage – only to be rather surprised when he found out the weight and having to rearrange his luggage, when the dumbbells were discovered and taken back home, not with him on the fight. (I think, anyhow – correct me if I’m wrong, wise elder sister!)

With all the restrictions on the weight of luggage on aeroplanes and in airports, I found it utterly absurd that one would try to take dumbbells in their luggage. Taking weights on board a plane, where they will be weighed, without a doubt. Just unbelievable!

Of course, knowing my brother in law as I do, I wasn’t entirely surprised, but I was most certainly amused; the same way I am with most of his absurd doings that crop up from time to time. Like that other time, when he left to go on his honeymoon, and realised only on the day after his wedding, when they were set for the airport, that he hadn’t actually packed and all he had to wear for their entire honeymoon was his wedding suit. The things that make you wonder, then laugh, then love him just that little bit more.

In any case, it is true that he once attempted to take dumbbells on a plane. For my amusement’s sake, it was a great decision indeed.

The reason I’m telling you this, though, is not to make my brother in law out to be an oddity, nor is it purely for your enjoyment. No, I’m telling you this because the act of taking dumbbells on a plane, one that I once ridiculed, was done also by me – just last week, to be precise.

Amsterdam: Bikes, Colours, Boathouses and Jet Lag

(Photo Credit: Otts World)

They say Amsterdam is the city of bikes, and I wholeheartedly agree. Thousands of them everywhere, to the extent that I think I would dread parking my bike at one of the main train stations (I’ve been known to forget where I parked my car (yes, that’s right – I misplaced my CAR) in little old Adelaide, never mind an overfilled bike-park in Amsterdam!) I think it is a lovely concept though, that the city makes such great use of bikes. I like to ride, but have a certain level of fear associated with riding on busy roads that stops me from riding in cities (except on bike tracks, bless them!). I spent the best part of two years riding through a park in Adelaide to Uni, thanks to a much-loved bike track I made great use of. I loved the freedom of it, but wouldn’t have dared to attempt to ride, had main roads been my only option.

In Amsterdam, however, bikes are the norm. They have right of way. Even pedestrians have to watch out for the riders, or an angry exclamation and a little bell ringing its heart out will be heard – possibly followed by a collision. Even I would be game to ride a bike everywhere if I were to live in Amsterdam.

As a pedestrian in Amsterdam, I found myself double checking every which way before crossing a street for any number of perils that could pose a threat to my wellbeing. An oncoming tram, bus, car or one of the many bikes… anything and everything is fair game!

Beating Jet Lag: The Three Pronged Attempt

Jet lag can be killer. You’ve just spent nigh on thirty hours travelling to get to a new and exciting destination, and you arrive exhausted and disoriented in time. Not the most desirable in the world, that is for sure.

But fear not, for you have stumbled across the perfect page to arm yourself and pierce the horror of jet lag forever.

As a result of extensive research on a sample size of three (Younger Sister, F and myself) on a single trip from Australia to Europe, I have discovered three unique ways of tackling “the jetlag problem”, and their respective outcomes. Read on to discover which method will work best for you!