Okay, here is my next installment of things that I miss from home.
Campbell's - Yup, the soup. I used to do a lot with Campbell's broths and condensed soups. Especially in the winter. Here, in PE at least, they have condensed soups made by Heinz. Cream of Mushroom and Chicken, Tomato too. They don't taste quite the same, but I can manage and don't miss those so much. What I really miss is the tetra pack broth. They use stock cubes or powders here. I always found stock cubes too salty at home and the same goes here. So I miss Campbell's broth/stocks. I don't have the space to make my own and keep it in the freezer, and I'm not organized enough yet to make a stock one day and use it a few days later, so cubes and powders it shall be. Now, I am searching for the one with the lowest sodium content.
Cereal, cold - We used to go through a lot of cold cereals. It was our breakfast of choice back home. It frequently served as a healthy bedtime or after school snack too. Unfortunately, they don't quite have the selection here that we did in Canada. The kids loved Vectors, Honey Nut Cheerios, and Miniwheats back home. Here they have Cornflakes and Special K. They have Multigrain Cheerios (which are way sweeter than back home) and that's about it for at least partially health cereals. They have lots of muesli type cereals too. The rest of their cereals are either high fibre (which my kids wouldn't touch at home either) or have sugar as their first or second ingredient. The kids love them, but I don't. So I find I am making a lot of eggs McUncle L for breakfast, thank heavens they have english muffins here.
Composting - Our region back in Ontario had a curb side composting program. Once a week they would come and collect our compostables. Food scraps, coffee filters, used tissues and paper towels all went into the green bin and were turned into usable compost for gardens. We don't have a composting program here and a yard composter is a recipe for disaster with the wild life that roam in our area of the city. I miss my green bin and hate to add more to the landfills here than necessary, so we have made some adjustments. Mashed potatoes now include the skin. I cook in smaller amounts so there aren't so many leftovers. The family member that appreciates the changes the most is the dog. Where he used to be a straight kibble eater, he is now benefiting from my desire to not throw things out by getting any re-heated leftovers that I can't put back in the refrigerator or freezer. He's a happy boy our pup. I'm also finding it handy that the grocery store is on the way to or from school, so I shop more frequently, which means that things aren't as likely to go bad before I use them. And, because it's on the way to school I'm not contributing more car exhaust to the atmosphere than necessary either.
Next Post - Random Observations
Thursday 30 June 2011
Wednesday 29 June 2011
A hockey wife in Africa - Part 2
Back in Canada during playoff season I would have called myself a hockey widow. Here the term did not apply. I was not left to my own devices while dh watched every playoff game from round one. It was kind of nice actually, he was following the games, but not spending the hours watching them. Of course, once the dvd set arrives from Canada I'll lose him to all 7 games at once, but I digress.
I knew, however, it wouldn't be long before dh found another sport to watch. Back home he had been known to watch darts on a slow sporting day. He was going to find something and I knew it would be sooner rather than later.
His first option, cricket. Take North American baseball, put in 2 batters, 2 pitchers (but call them bowlers), take out 2 bases (but call them wickets) and stretch it out over 5 days. That's test cricket. Back in the 1960's they began to limit the number of overs in a cricket match to make the games shorter, roughly one day. Don't ask me to explain an over, but it has something to do with the bowler and it's not the same as an inning which has to do with the batters. Confused yet? I still am, but I'm getting there. In 2003 England decided to introduce Twenty20 cricket. Evidently some poor soul was fretting that if he had to call in sick one more day to play cricket he was gonna get fired. So, wouldn't it be great if he didn't have to take a whole day off and could just play cricket in a few hours one evening. They called it Twenty20 and, not surprisingly, it caught on. In 2007 the first World Twenty20 Cricket Cup took place. Though they still televise test cricket, it's Twenty20 that is the most popular with the masses here. DH has watched cricket, but kind of like he would watch baseball in Canada. When there isn't much else on.
Next, we have soccer. Most people refer to it as soccer, not football, here. I'm not sure if that's in deference to my being Canadian or if that is just the way it is. Soccer is huge in South Africa, but dh would watch darts over soccer in Canada, so I figured I wasn't going to be a soccer widow.
Then, there is rugby. I remember attending rugby games at our high school. Sort of like North American football only rougher and with a lot less protective equipment. I knew there was going to be trouble with this rugby thing when we were attending an executive dinner for dh's work. Dh's colleagues were ribbing each other about who's team was better. There were 2 camps, the Blue Bulls camp and the Sharks camp. Then came the question I had been dreading, "Which team do you support (dh)?" It was at that moment, when he started comparing the strengths and weakness, of the two teams that I knew I would become a rugby widow at playoff time.
This past weekend I had to start washing my black outfits. Dh came down in his Sharks jersey, made himself a coffee and turned on the super rugby game. He started talking at the tv just like he did in Canada with hockey. He really should have been a referee, not an engineer. He knows the calls before the announcers do.
So this shall be my lot in South Africa. No longer a hockey widow, but a rugby one. But, it's all good. Dh works hard, and just like he did in Canada, he deserves his down time. I'll smile when he laments about this player or that. I'll nod in agreement when he tells me the ref called it wrong. The most I can hope for, is that the super rugby playoffs don't last 3 months like hockey. Only time will tell.
Next Post - Things that I miss - The Cs
I knew, however, it wouldn't be long before dh found another sport to watch. Back home he had been known to watch darts on a slow sporting day. He was going to find something and I knew it would be sooner rather than later.
His first option, cricket. Take North American baseball, put in 2 batters, 2 pitchers (but call them bowlers), take out 2 bases (but call them wickets) and stretch it out over 5 days. That's test cricket. Back in the 1960's they began to limit the number of overs in a cricket match to make the games shorter, roughly one day. Don't ask me to explain an over, but it has something to do with the bowler and it's not the same as an inning which has to do with the batters. Confused yet? I still am, but I'm getting there. In 2003 England decided to introduce Twenty20 cricket. Evidently some poor soul was fretting that if he had to call in sick one more day to play cricket he was gonna get fired. So, wouldn't it be great if he didn't have to take a whole day off and could just play cricket in a few hours one evening. They called it Twenty20 and, not surprisingly, it caught on. In 2007 the first World Twenty20 Cricket Cup took place. Though they still televise test cricket, it's Twenty20 that is the most popular with the masses here. DH has watched cricket, but kind of like he would watch baseball in Canada. When there isn't much else on.
Next, we have soccer. Most people refer to it as soccer, not football, here. I'm not sure if that's in deference to my being Canadian or if that is just the way it is. Soccer is huge in South Africa, but dh would watch darts over soccer in Canada, so I figured I wasn't going to be a soccer widow.
Then, there is rugby. I remember attending rugby games at our high school. Sort of like North American football only rougher and with a lot less protective equipment. I knew there was going to be trouble with this rugby thing when we were attending an executive dinner for dh's work. Dh's colleagues were ribbing each other about who's team was better. There were 2 camps, the Blue Bulls camp and the Sharks camp. Then came the question I had been dreading, "Which team do you support (dh)?" It was at that moment, when he started comparing the strengths and weakness, of the two teams that I knew I would become a rugby widow at playoff time.
This past weekend I had to start washing my black outfits. Dh came down in his Sharks jersey, made himself a coffee and turned on the super rugby game. He started talking at the tv just like he did in Canada with hockey. He really should have been a referee, not an engineer. He knows the calls before the announcers do.
So this shall be my lot in South Africa. No longer a hockey widow, but a rugby one. But, it's all good. Dh works hard, and just like he did in Canada, he deserves his down time. I'll smile when he laments about this player or that. I'll nod in agreement when he tells me the ref called it wrong. The most I can hope for, is that the super rugby playoffs don't last 3 months like hockey. Only time will tell.
Next Post - Things that I miss - The Cs
Tuesday 28 June 2011
Table manners
I had been told long ago, by my British ballet instructor, that a Brit always knows a North American by the way they eat. You see, North Americans cut with the fork in their left hand and then change over to the right hand. Then, using the fork like a shovel, scoop the food and put it in their mouth on the top side of the fork. The British cut with the fork in the left and leave the fork in the left hand. Then they gently push the food onto the back of the fork with the knife. No scooping allowed. Well, the South Africans knew that I was North American the same way.
One day, on our look and see visit in February, we went to a Wimpy's. It's a burger joint, with take out, but it also has serviced tables. So, we sat down and looked at the menu. All day breakfast platters, cool. Burgers, awesome. We gave the waitress our order, all of us trying a different type of burger. When the waitress returned with our drinks, she also brought us cutlery. Weird, who needs cutlery to eat a hamburger? Too nervous to ask the bosses wife why this would be, I surreptitiously started to check out the other patrons. Well, look at that, they were eating their burgers with a fork and knife. They were cutting bun, patty and toppings into little bite sized pieces before eating them with their fork in the left hand. I can tell you, this was not what I wanted to see. Criminy, here I was moving to this new country, it was going to be hard enough to get used to new foods, but now I had to learn a new way to eat the old ones too. Sigh.
At that point I had a dilemma. Apparently, the proper way to eat a burger in Port Elizabeth was with a fork and knife, which was not the way that I was used to eating a burger. I didn't want to look uncultured in front of the bosses wife, who had been our tour guide for the day. So I compromised, I ate with a fork and knife, but still switched my fork to the right hand. Baby steps. After all I was only visiting. Besides, I figured, better to switch my fork than use my left hand and risk missing my mouth completely.
After we returned to Canada I made a concerted effort to keep my fork in my left hand, and it has gone rather well.
The thing about hamburgers here is, they are messy. It's not a nice little dab of ketchup and a tablespoon of onions. The toppings spill out all over the place and the buns are usually really soft. When you're eating with a fork and knife it doesn't matter how messy the burger is. So, in most places a fork and knife are a must, even for burgers.
But, what to do about the children. I admit, I indulged them in Canada. I cut thier food up for them most of the time, so they only ever needed a fork. They are all right handed so that's where the fork went. It was really a time and sanity saver for me. With 3 kids, just 4 1/2 years apart, it was easier to cut up thier meals all at the same time and serve it to them that way. DS #1 had been using a knife for about a year before we left. DS #2 was just starting and DD had a completely dull knife for soft foods like eggs or pierogies, but didn't use it regularly. Foods like chicken nuggets, french fries, hot dogs, pizza and burgers were finger foods.
A couple of weeks ago DS #2 came home with a copy of Kids Connection, which was distributed to all the kids at school. It's a magazine with kids products, advertisements and some articles. The lead article was on table manners. Things like, how to teach them and when you should start. When I read the article I realized that my kids have a lot of catching up to do. Then, I put the magazine in a really safe place, so that I could reference it. Unfortunately, I can't for the life of me remember where that safe place is, so until I find that article or it's posted online, we continue to work on the fork in the left hand rule. Or maybe, I can just sign them up for those extra curricular deportment classes that the school offers and they can teach them all the South African table manners they could possibly need.
So, with all these expectations about table manners, where can I go to feel like I'm home again. McDonald's. Yup, they have them here, too. The burgers aren't sloppy and they don't give you a fork and knife. If I ever feel like a good old, back home, eat with your hands meal, that's where I go. We've only been there 3 times, so the need hasn't been too great, but in the back of my mind, I know, that there is an island of respite from the table manners police and it is called McDonald's.
Next Post: A hockey wife in Africa - Part 2
One day, on our look and see visit in February, we went to a Wimpy's. It's a burger joint, with take out, but it also has serviced tables. So, we sat down and looked at the menu. All day breakfast platters, cool. Burgers, awesome. We gave the waitress our order, all of us trying a different type of burger. When the waitress returned with our drinks, she also brought us cutlery. Weird, who needs cutlery to eat a hamburger? Too nervous to ask the bosses wife why this would be, I surreptitiously started to check out the other patrons. Well, look at that, they were eating their burgers with a fork and knife. They were cutting bun, patty and toppings into little bite sized pieces before eating them with their fork in the left hand. I can tell you, this was not what I wanted to see. Criminy, here I was moving to this new country, it was going to be hard enough to get used to new foods, but now I had to learn a new way to eat the old ones too. Sigh.
At that point I had a dilemma. Apparently, the proper way to eat a burger in Port Elizabeth was with a fork and knife, which was not the way that I was used to eating a burger. I didn't want to look uncultured in front of the bosses wife, who had been our tour guide for the day. So I compromised, I ate with a fork and knife, but still switched my fork to the right hand. Baby steps. After all I was only visiting. Besides, I figured, better to switch my fork than use my left hand and risk missing my mouth completely.
After we returned to Canada I made a concerted effort to keep my fork in my left hand, and it has gone rather well.
The thing about hamburgers here is, they are messy. It's not a nice little dab of ketchup and a tablespoon of onions. The toppings spill out all over the place and the buns are usually really soft. When you're eating with a fork and knife it doesn't matter how messy the burger is. So, in most places a fork and knife are a must, even for burgers.
But, what to do about the children. I admit, I indulged them in Canada. I cut thier food up for them most of the time, so they only ever needed a fork. They are all right handed so that's where the fork went. It was really a time and sanity saver for me. With 3 kids, just 4 1/2 years apart, it was easier to cut up thier meals all at the same time and serve it to them that way. DS #1 had been using a knife for about a year before we left. DS #2 was just starting and DD had a completely dull knife for soft foods like eggs or pierogies, but didn't use it regularly. Foods like chicken nuggets, french fries, hot dogs, pizza and burgers were finger foods.
A couple of weeks ago DS #2 came home with a copy of Kids Connection, which was distributed to all the kids at school. It's a magazine with kids products, advertisements and some articles. The lead article was on table manners. Things like, how to teach them and when you should start. When I read the article I realized that my kids have a lot of catching up to do. Then, I put the magazine in a really safe place, so that I could reference it. Unfortunately, I can't for the life of me remember where that safe place is, so until I find that article or it's posted online, we continue to work on the fork in the left hand rule. Or maybe, I can just sign them up for those extra curricular deportment classes that the school offers and they can teach them all the South African table manners they could possibly need.
So, with all these expectations about table manners, where can I go to feel like I'm home again. McDonald's. Yup, they have them here, too. The burgers aren't sloppy and they don't give you a fork and knife. If I ever feel like a good old, back home, eat with your hands meal, that's where I go. We've only been there 3 times, so the need hasn't been too great, but in the back of my mind, I know, that there is an island of respite from the table manners police and it is called McDonald's.
Next Post: A hockey wife in Africa - Part 2
Sunday 26 June 2011
Meet Timbit
Back when we bought our puppy 3 years ago there was much discussion about a name. Given that dh was agreeable to the purchase, but not the most excited member of the family, I figured if he got to choose the name it would give him an immediate bond with our pup. So, Boston fan that he is, dh suggested Bruin.
My dad on the other hand liked the idea of Timbit. You see the pups sires was named Timber, which, my dad reasoned, made him a Timbit. DH won out. Bruin he became and dh loves him to death. In fact dh was the one that insisted that he must make the journey to South Africa with us.
Flash to last week when we were at Cape Recife and went to SAMREC (South African Marine Rescue and Education Centre). We learned quite a bit about African Penguins. In fact 2 islands just off the coast near PE are home to a good number of penguins. The islands are Bird Island and St. Croix.
Back in the fall of 2010 African Penguins were added to the endangered species list. One of the reasons why, is because feeding sources are getting farther and farther away from breeding areas. When a mom or dad penguin feeds it's chick, it regurgitates some of the fish it has eaten. The further away the food source, the more the fish gets digested in mom or dads stomach leaving less to regurgitate for the chicks. Chicks become malnourished and parents end up abandoning them. This is where SAMREC steps in.
Once a week national natural resources staff go to the islands to track and monitor the penguin populations. Any obviously sick ones are brought to the centre. Likewise a quick call to the centre and they will come to pick up any penguins that are found on beaches throughout the area that seem sick or abandoned. They rehabilitate the birds and release them back into the wild.
When we visited SAMREC there was a display with a number of photos of chicks on the wall. We were told by the guide that these chicks had been brought in from Bird Island a month earlier at one month of age. A large storm was approaching and the natural resources staff were concerned for the chicks safety as they nest in rock crevasses while mom and dad are away. If the amount of rain forecast was correct these chicks would be drowned in their crevasses. Moms and dads had abandoned them with the impending storm. They were too young to get care for themselves. So they were all brought to SAMREC to be fed and medically checked. Given that there were 40 chicks brought in at one time, the centre was stretched financially and set up a chick adoption plan.
For a financial donation to help care for a chick, you could name the chick, be given a VIP pass for free entry to the centre to see your chick and would get regular updates on their progress, along with the tracking number that they would be given on release. So, any sightings by natural resources staff would be trackable by adoptive parents.
The kids really wanted to help one of these chicks, and so did I for that matter. So we had to come up with a name. We wanted to keep it somewhat Canadian. Maple and maple syrup were suggested. DS#2 really wanted to call him Steve :) Finally, we settled on Timbit. That had been our second choice for our pup, so it made sense that our next adopted animal should have the name. It kept with the Canadian theme and the chick was little, just like a Timbit.
DD, at age 5, didn't quite understand the adoption process and asked me how often we were going to take Timbit back to the centre to visits his brothers and sisters. I had to explain that penguins are not like puppies and that we were not bringing him home. She was a little sad, but when I assured her that SAMREC would take good care of him and we would hopefully get a chance to see him released back to the wild she cheered right up.
So chick #25 became Timbit.
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If you're interested in how the rescue and release process works you can watch this video link SAMREC.
Now we just anxiously await Timbits release. The staff hope that it will be in the next 2 weeks or so. I'm glad the kids are on a midterm break. It means we should all be able to attend the release.
For more on SAMREC you can visit their facebook page just look for SAMREC - SA MARINE RESCUE AND EDUCATION CENTRE.
Next Post - Table manners
My dad on the other hand liked the idea of Timbit. You see the pups sires was named Timber, which, my dad reasoned, made him a Timbit. DH won out. Bruin he became and dh loves him to death. In fact dh was the one that insisted that he must make the journey to South Africa with us.
Flash to last week when we were at Cape Recife and went to SAMREC (South African Marine Rescue and Education Centre). We learned quite a bit about African Penguins. In fact 2 islands just off the coast near PE are home to a good number of penguins. The islands are Bird Island and St. Croix.
Back in the fall of 2010 African Penguins were added to the endangered species list. One of the reasons why, is because feeding sources are getting farther and farther away from breeding areas. When a mom or dad penguin feeds it's chick, it regurgitates some of the fish it has eaten. The further away the food source, the more the fish gets digested in mom or dads stomach leaving less to regurgitate for the chicks. Chicks become malnourished and parents end up abandoning them. This is where SAMREC steps in.
Once a week national natural resources staff go to the islands to track and monitor the penguin populations. Any obviously sick ones are brought to the centre. Likewise a quick call to the centre and they will come to pick up any penguins that are found on beaches throughout the area that seem sick or abandoned. They rehabilitate the birds and release them back into the wild.
When we visited SAMREC there was a display with a number of photos of chicks on the wall. We were told by the guide that these chicks had been brought in from Bird Island a month earlier at one month of age. A large storm was approaching and the natural resources staff were concerned for the chicks safety as they nest in rock crevasses while mom and dad are away. If the amount of rain forecast was correct these chicks would be drowned in their crevasses. Moms and dads had abandoned them with the impending storm. They were too young to get care for themselves. So they were all brought to SAMREC to be fed and medically checked. Given that there were 40 chicks brought in at one time, the centre was stretched financially and set up a chick adoption plan.
For a financial donation to help care for a chick, you could name the chick, be given a VIP pass for free entry to the centre to see your chick and would get regular updates on their progress, along with the tracking number that they would be given on release. So, any sightings by natural resources staff would be trackable by adoptive parents.
The kids really wanted to help one of these chicks, and so did I for that matter. So we had to come up with a name. We wanted to keep it somewhat Canadian. Maple and maple syrup were suggested. DS#2 really wanted to call him Steve :) Finally, we settled on Timbit. That had been our second choice for our pup, so it made sense that our next adopted animal should have the name. It kept with the Canadian theme and the chick was little, just like a Timbit.
DD, at age 5, didn't quite understand the adoption process and asked me how often we were going to take Timbit back to the centre to visits his brothers and sisters. I had to explain that penguins are not like puppies and that we were not bringing him home. She was a little sad, but when I assured her that SAMREC would take good care of him and we would hopefully get a chance to see him released back to the wild she cheered right up.
So chick #25 became Timbit.
If you're interested in how the rescue and release process works you can watch this video link SAMREC.
Now we just anxiously await Timbits release. The staff hope that it will be in the next 2 weeks or so. I'm glad the kids are on a midterm break. It means we should all be able to attend the release.
For more on SAMREC you can visit their facebook page just look for SAMREC - SA MARINE RESCUE AND EDUCATION CENTRE.
Next Post - Table manners
Saturday 25 June 2011
I miss work
Yup, I do.
I have worked for a long time. First with paper routes, then at 16 with real jobs, like a deli clerk and clothing store salesperson. At 18, I found a position at a Centre for Community Living. All the way through university I worked there. When I graduated university and full time jobs in my field were scarce I took a full time job at Community Living so I could be employed out of my profession rather than unemployed in it. I eventually found a job in Toronto in my field, but it took a while.
The most frightening time of my life was a 3 month stint of unemployment. I had accepted a job in Mississauga which was closer to our new home and resigned at my job in Toronto. The Mississauga job fell through. I interviewed for another position just before I left the Toronto job, but it took 2 months for them to get back to me and another month before I could start.
I did not do well with unemployment, even though I had employment insurance benefits, I had no security. This was just 6 months before dh and I got married. I'm quite certain my head started to spin, Exorcist like, during that 3 months and dh didn't run away screaming. Instead, he met me at the alter. Definitely the kind of man I could stay with through any challenge or adventure.
When dh found out about this move I knew that I would have to leave my job. My stint with unemployment had been almost 15 years earlier and I worried what leaving work was going to do to me. Would my head start spinning again? How would I feel to be completely financially dependant on someone else? We were talking 2-4 years of unemployment, not just 3 months. It worried me.
I had 2 jobs, really. I worked part time on weekends in a professional capacity and looked after my DD's best friend while her mom worked part time during the week. It was with a heavy heart I let DD's friends mom know she would need to find someone else to take care of her daughter. To be honest, resigning from my weekend job was less heavy hearted. Still, after almost 9 years in the same job, I was shedding off my security blanket.
Before we left, my life was filled with moving, selling, cleaning, filling in forms and attending appointments. We squeezed in visits to family and friends that we wouldn't see for 2-4 years. It was a full time job to co-ordinate this move. Factor in a week away, in your soon to be home country, and 3 months flies by pretty darn quick. I didn't have time to miss work back then, I was too busy to notice.
While all this was going on, I was reading A Broad Abroad: The Expat Wife's Guide to Successful Living Abroad by Robin Pascoe. Robin is a Canadian journalist, married to a Canadian diplomat and she has moved many times. Robin described an expat spouse as being an interdependent. I didn't quite believe it at first, but over time it has made sense. Dh could never have managed to coordinate this transfer, while working full time, without me. So no, I'm not contributing financially, but this transfer never could have happened I hadn't been there to manage it. So, I am not a dependant, but dh and I are interdependent and it suits, for now.
Now that I'm here and the craziness has calmed down there is one more thing that I miss. Back at home the weekend job was a breath of fresh air. It got me out with adults and totally away from all things kids. I had to focus on the job and it gave my mind a break from motherhood. My colleagues were women that I could talk to, laugh with, bellyache to and count on when things got crazy on the job. It was a stellar group of women, especially M who was there with me the longest and shared my fondness for books and musical theatre.
So, I miss work. I miss the security. I miss the independence. Most of all, I miss the break from being mommy even if it was only part time.
Next post - Introducing Timbit
I have worked for a long time. First with paper routes, then at 16 with real jobs, like a deli clerk and clothing store salesperson. At 18, I found a position at a Centre for Community Living. All the way through university I worked there. When I graduated university and full time jobs in my field were scarce I took a full time job at Community Living so I could be employed out of my profession rather than unemployed in it. I eventually found a job in Toronto in my field, but it took a while.
The most frightening time of my life was a 3 month stint of unemployment. I had accepted a job in Mississauga which was closer to our new home and resigned at my job in Toronto. The Mississauga job fell through. I interviewed for another position just before I left the Toronto job, but it took 2 months for them to get back to me and another month before I could start.
I did not do well with unemployment, even though I had employment insurance benefits, I had no security. This was just 6 months before dh and I got married. I'm quite certain my head started to spin, Exorcist like, during that 3 months and dh didn't run away screaming. Instead, he met me at the alter. Definitely the kind of man I could stay with through any challenge or adventure.
When dh found out about this move I knew that I would have to leave my job. My stint with unemployment had been almost 15 years earlier and I worried what leaving work was going to do to me. Would my head start spinning again? How would I feel to be completely financially dependant on someone else? We were talking 2-4 years of unemployment, not just 3 months. It worried me.
I had 2 jobs, really. I worked part time on weekends in a professional capacity and looked after my DD's best friend while her mom worked part time during the week. It was with a heavy heart I let DD's friends mom know she would need to find someone else to take care of her daughter. To be honest, resigning from my weekend job was less heavy hearted. Still, after almost 9 years in the same job, I was shedding off my security blanket.
Before we left, my life was filled with moving, selling, cleaning, filling in forms and attending appointments. We squeezed in visits to family and friends that we wouldn't see for 2-4 years. It was a full time job to co-ordinate this move. Factor in a week away, in your soon to be home country, and 3 months flies by pretty darn quick. I didn't have time to miss work back then, I was too busy to notice.
While all this was going on, I was reading A Broad Abroad: The Expat Wife's Guide to Successful Living Abroad by Robin Pascoe. Robin is a Canadian journalist, married to a Canadian diplomat and she has moved many times. Robin described an expat spouse as being an interdependent. I didn't quite believe it at first, but over time it has made sense. Dh could never have managed to coordinate this transfer, while working full time, without me. So no, I'm not contributing financially, but this transfer never could have happened I hadn't been there to manage it. So, I am not a dependant, but dh and I are interdependent and it suits, for now.
Now that I'm here and the craziness has calmed down there is one more thing that I miss. Back at home the weekend job was a breath of fresh air. It got me out with adults and totally away from all things kids. I had to focus on the job and it gave my mind a break from motherhood. My colleagues were women that I could talk to, laugh with, bellyache to and count on when things got crazy on the job. It was a stellar group of women, especially M who was there with me the longest and shared my fondness for books and musical theatre.
So, I miss work. I miss the security. I miss the independence. Most of all, I miss the break from being mommy even if it was only part time.
Next post - Introducing Timbit
Thursday 23 June 2011
Cape Recife - Part 2 - Kilometre 2
On to the second kilometer.
There seems to be a good deal of fishing opportunities along the coast. We constantly see cars or bakkies with giant fishing rods hanging out. It's hard to appreciate how big the fishing rods are in comparison to what we've used in the past until you see one next to a person. These rods are huge. They must be 3-4m (10 - 12 feet) in length. The handle of the rod is generally placed at the feet on the rocks for stability from what I understand.
But, the thing that amazed me the most was the rocks. As the rocks got closer and closer to the shore, the colour changed. From these deep rich red tones at the waters edge at low tide.
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To these pale mossy greens and greys closer to the beach.
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Then there were the rocks that never go under water and were white with the dried salt. We all decided to climb to the top of the highest one we could find. Here's DS #1 & #2 and daddy taking his turn chasing the boys while I took a breather with DD. You might just be able to see those 2 specks right on top of the tall rocks in the middle that's my boys. DD and I did catch up eventually.
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There was bird life aplenty that day, too. Along with several varieties of tern and cape cormerants we saw dozens of white breasted cormerants like this one.
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We didn't sight any African penguins in the surf so we decided to stop at The Flying Penguin Cafe on our way out. When we entered we realized that the Cafe was part of SAMREC (South African Marine Rescue and Education Centre). But that's another post.
Next Post - I miss work!
There seems to be a good deal of fishing opportunities along the coast. We constantly see cars or bakkies with giant fishing rods hanging out. It's hard to appreciate how big the fishing rods are in comparison to what we've used in the past until you see one next to a person. These rods are huge. They must be 3-4m (10 - 12 feet) in length. The handle of the rod is generally placed at the feet on the rocks for stability from what I understand.
But, the thing that amazed me the most was the rocks. As the rocks got closer and closer to the shore, the colour changed. From these deep rich red tones at the waters edge at low tide.
To these pale mossy greens and greys closer to the beach.
Then there were the rocks that never go under water and were white with the dried salt. We all decided to climb to the top of the highest one we could find. Here's DS #1 & #2 and daddy taking his turn chasing the boys while I took a breather with DD. You might just be able to see those 2 specks right on top of the tall rocks in the middle that's my boys. DD and I did catch up eventually.
There was bird life aplenty that day, too. Along with several varieties of tern and cape cormerants we saw dozens of white breasted cormerants like this one.
We didn't sight any African penguins in the surf so we decided to stop at The Flying Penguin Cafe on our way out. When we entered we realized that the Cafe was part of SAMREC (South African Marine Rescue and Education Centre). But that's another post.
Next Post - I miss work!
Tuesday 21 June 2011
Cafe Recife - Part One - The first kilometre
DS #1 went on a field trip with his class to a lighthouse. He thought it was the coolest thing ever to go to the top and see the whole city. He liked the story behind it too. Though, most people think PE was named for the Queen, me included, it turns out it was named by the founder, Sir Rufane Shaw Donkin, after his late wife Elizabeth. DS #1 wanted us to all go and see the light house and bugged us for days. So, I Googled light- house PE, found a map and we were set for a day trip on Saturday morning.
Off we went and DH kept asking DS #1 does this look familiar. DS #1 kept saying "no, we took the highway". Long story short, wrong lighthouse. Who knew a coastal city would have more than one :) The lighthouse we went to was at the Cape Racife Nature Reserve. We couldn't go up, but the day was an absolutely glorious one and we got there at low tide so we could walk for km's along the beach and rocks. This was also the day I found out I had dust on my camera sensor. So until I get Photoshop I apologize for the dark spot on some of these pictures.
Here is the lighthouse at Cape Racife.
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With our take only pictures, leave only footprints philosophy firmly in mind we set off down the beach to explore.
The first find was a number of blue bottle's. Apparently there is some dissension in the scientific community about the blue bottle, Portuguese man-of-war or Physalia Physalis. Those that are found in the Indo-Pacific and Southern African coasts are much smaller with a single tentacle than those found in other locations causing some scientists to call it Physalia Utriculus.
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Actually, blue bottles tend to occur in swarms and get stranded all over the beach when the tide goes out. The toxicity in their tentacles can remain potent for weeks to months in moist environments. Just one more reason why my kids will be wearing shoes all the time. This is one of the larger ones we've seen and sometimes you hear a "pop" and realize that you're glad you had shoes on because you just stepped on a blue bottle. It sounds just like popping a bubble gum bubble.
The next find we saw, dh called at tongue. I thought it looked more like a heart. When we asked the volunteer guide at the South African Marine Rehabilitation and Education Centre he said it was some kind of plant, but didn't have a name for it.
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When we arrived, in the morning, the sand was damp and dark and our sandals left footprints. I wasn't able to identify this in my reference book, it could be a sponge, a coral or a false coral, regardless this is what it looked like in the morning when we arrived at the beach. It had the briefest hint of pink colour to it and it glistened with moisture.
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When a sea urchin dies the spines fall off and you are left with the calcium carbonate shell or test. This is what it looks like. They call it a pumpkin shell. DD thought it was sooooooo pretty.
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Was it a hatch from a pirate ship or a door from an old Spanish galleon? I love their active imaginations. Anyway, I was told very politely that I should take a photo of it, so I did.
Off we went and DH kept asking DS #1 does this look familiar. DS #1 kept saying "no, we took the highway". Long story short, wrong lighthouse. Who knew a coastal city would have more than one :) The lighthouse we went to was at the Cape Racife Nature Reserve. We couldn't go up, but the day was an absolutely glorious one and we got there at low tide so we could walk for km's along the beach and rocks. This was also the day I found out I had dust on my camera sensor. So until I get Photoshop I apologize for the dark spot on some of these pictures.
Here is the lighthouse at Cape Racife.
With our take only pictures, leave only footprints philosophy firmly in mind we set off down the beach to explore.
The first find was a number of blue bottle's. Apparently there is some dissension in the scientific community about the blue bottle, Portuguese man-of-war or Physalia Physalis. Those that are found in the Indo-Pacific and Southern African coasts are much smaller with a single tentacle than those found in other locations causing some scientists to call it Physalia Utriculus.
The next find we saw, dh called at tongue. I thought it looked more like a heart. When we asked the volunteer guide at the South African Marine Rehabilitation and Education Centre he said it was some kind of plant, but didn't have a name for it.
Now, I am one of these people that does not like questions without answers, so after asking someone and not getting an answer I turned to the Internet. Hours of search provided nothing. DH and I had already been talking about getting some reference books about animal, avian and marine life in Southern Africa, so off to the bookstore I went. With Two Oceans - A Guide to the Marine Life of Southern Africa in hand, I searched for our mysterious tongue/heart thing.
My best guess is that it the picture is of 2 entangled elephant ears. Yup, they call them elephant ears. The scientific name is Gynandrocarpa placenta. It is described as a large colonial form of sea squirts with a short peduncle. Now, the only time I'd ever heard the term peduncle was from a farmer in a pumpkin patch back home. I thought it was a pumpkin specific term, not so, evidently. According to the book colonies can be ripped off and cast ashore in large numbers after a storm. Given that there had been a storm the night prior to our visit, it makes sense that this is in fact the creature in the photo.
I find nature to be a fascinating thing. Take these next 2 pictures.
Many hours later, when we were leaving, the sand was dry and powdery. Our shoes left no footprints. The afternoon sun was leaving shadows in different places.
Here is, what I am quite sure is, the same specimen after hours of sun and wind exposure. I loved that the colour intensified, it was a little bit smaller and drier and curled in a little bit. That's why I had to take another picture. Isn't nature awesome? Now I wonder what happened to it after the tide came back in.
The next find belongs to DS #1. He took the lead climbing over the rocks, DS #2 and I weren't far behind when he shouted excitedly for us to come quickly. He had found a small crevice protected by the rocks, and home to several cape sea urchins.
Not everything we found on the beach was natural. Both DS's imaginations were running on overtime after finding this washed up on the shoreline.
Next Post - Cape Racife - Part Two - The next kilometre
Monday 20 June 2011
Thank you Ms. C
Since DS #1 was diagnosed twice exceptional (very superior intellect and severe phonological processing disorder/dyslexia) almost 3 years ago, I've had to step back and really think about my views on education. I've had to challenge myself about what parts of it are really important and determine if my assumptions about education are right for my son. It has been a struggle to try and navigate for DS #1 what is most important when it comes to schooling. It has really come to a head since moving here, as we are navigating the private school system and searching for the place that is best for him, for his education and for his mental health.
I've always loved Robert Fulgham's book All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten. Fulgham was right. But, I reflected, there must have been other really important things that I learned that happened after kindergarten.
I can honestly say I haven't used any of my algebra or calculus. I'm still a lousy speller, but spell check takes care of that. I have trouble recalling my times tables and still don't do math in my head very well, but give me a pencil and paper and I'm good. I may have used my high school biology to continue on to university and take biochem and microbiology there, but in the jobs I have had, I haven't needed it.
So, after all this introspection and self reflection what have I come up with? Sometimes, it's not the subjects that educators think are important that really are over time and sometimes, it's as much the teacher as it is the subject.
Ms. C was one of my high school teachers. She didn't teach an "important" subject like math, science or english. She taught an elective, and an elective that was becoming less and less popular as girls became more and more focused on professions and careers. It was seen as unimportant in an age of budgets cuts. As much as I have continued to use and will continue to use the skills she taught me on regular basis, she also taught me some life lessons that didn't mean much to me in high school, but have become exponentially more important as time has gone on. Ms. C was my sewing teacher.
I can honestly say that since graduating from her class in high school I have never sewn another welt pocket or business suit, but I did sew the majority of my kids sleepers, blankets and spit cloths. I have sewn many of the curtains and sewable decor in all of our homes. I even sewed my bridesmaids dresses and my bridal veil. I got my serger back in high school when I was in her class and was loath to part with it when we moved here, but it wouldn't have worked well with the different voltage.
I still tailor tack all of my patterns before I start sewing. When I feel like leaving those threads at the beginning or end of a seam, because no one is going to see them anyway, a little voice inside my head asks "What would Ms. C say?" Then I cut them off nice and close.
Ms. C has, without question, enabled me to save more money and feel a greater sense of accomplishment and pride than any other teacher from pre-school to university. In my effort to make this house in South Africa a home, she constantly comes to mind as I measure and stitch my curtains. With the skills I learned from her I was able to say "sure honey I can make you a dress", when DD fell in love with a butterfly fabric at the shop we got her curtain material.
There was more to Ms. C though. At a time when hormones were high and popularity with boys was of the highest importance, she was unmarried. A successful, tough, but fair, career oriented lady who was not married. I don't know that I thought about it much at the time. I have no idea why she wasn't married, it doesn't matter really, but I know that it made an impression on me. She was successful and seemed happy without a husband. Don't get me wrong, I'm thankful that I have DH, he's fantastic and I don't know what I'd do without him to share my life, but going through school I never needed a boyfriend to be successful, it was nice to have one, but I didn't have to have one all the time, there were other things that were more important and a man didn't define me.
Then there was the time a student in our class was hospitalized. No one said it out loud because of the stigma attached to her diagnosis, but we all knew privately that she was admitted to try and manage her anorexia. Ms. C. didn't address it directly, but what she did say resonated with me. Here is the way I remember it. She said "Girls, when you stand looking at yourself in a mirror, if your belly sticks out past your boobs you're in trouble. If it doesn't, your just fine." She made it so matter of fact and so simple. No BMI, no scale measurements, no technical jargon about build and bone density or percentage of body fat. No mention of boys or body image or self esteem. Nope, just a mirror and yourself. 25 years on and it's still just me and the mirror and Ms. C's wisdom running through my head.
There were a lot of kids who thought she was too tough and too picky. That she expected too much from us. They questioned what was so bad about one little thread that wasn't cut just so? To me she was fair, she was honest and she didn't expect any more from me than I should have been expecting from myself. She taught me that it wasn't the fact that no one else would see the thread, but that I would know it was there and that over time it might just cause the seam to unravel.
So, thank you Ms. C. I've never been able to tell you in person how important your lessons have been in my life. How they have helped me make houses into homes. Helped me to clothe my children. Helped me to look in the mirror, smile at your wisdom and feel okay. When this new culture I'm in makes it so easy to hire someone else to do things for me, I remember to appreciate the value, both financial and emotional, of doing some things for myself.
Your lessons have touched every aspect of my life through the years and some day when DD is old enough, I will stand her in the mirror and tell her, "When your belly sticks out past your boobs you're in trouble, but until then you're good the way that you are."
I'll let DS #2 know it's not about clipping the thread and finishing things you start, but how you feel about yourself and the possible consequences if you don't finish.
And when DS #1 is struggling and feeling like a failure because school is so hard, I will say a prayer that some day he will have a teacher that resonates with him as much as you did with me. Because in the end it doesn't matter how many degrees or diploma's you have, it's just you and the mirror.
Next Post - Cape Racife Lighthouse
I've always loved Robert Fulgham's book All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten. Fulgham was right. But, I reflected, there must have been other really important things that I learned that happened after kindergarten.
I can honestly say I haven't used any of my algebra or calculus. I'm still a lousy speller, but spell check takes care of that. I have trouble recalling my times tables and still don't do math in my head very well, but give me a pencil and paper and I'm good. I may have used my high school biology to continue on to university and take biochem and microbiology there, but in the jobs I have had, I haven't needed it.
So, after all this introspection and self reflection what have I come up with? Sometimes, it's not the subjects that educators think are important that really are over time and sometimes, it's as much the teacher as it is the subject.
Ms. C was one of my high school teachers. She didn't teach an "important" subject like math, science or english. She taught an elective, and an elective that was becoming less and less popular as girls became more and more focused on professions and careers. It was seen as unimportant in an age of budgets cuts. As much as I have continued to use and will continue to use the skills she taught me on regular basis, she also taught me some life lessons that didn't mean much to me in high school, but have become exponentially more important as time has gone on. Ms. C was my sewing teacher.
I can honestly say that since graduating from her class in high school I have never sewn another welt pocket or business suit, but I did sew the majority of my kids sleepers, blankets and spit cloths. I have sewn many of the curtains and sewable decor in all of our homes. I even sewed my bridesmaids dresses and my bridal veil. I got my serger back in high school when I was in her class and was loath to part with it when we moved here, but it wouldn't have worked well with the different voltage.
I still tailor tack all of my patterns before I start sewing. When I feel like leaving those threads at the beginning or end of a seam, because no one is going to see them anyway, a little voice inside my head asks "What would Ms. C say?" Then I cut them off nice and close.
Ms. C has, without question, enabled me to save more money and feel a greater sense of accomplishment and pride than any other teacher from pre-school to university. In my effort to make this house in South Africa a home, she constantly comes to mind as I measure and stitch my curtains. With the skills I learned from her I was able to say "sure honey I can make you a dress", when DD fell in love with a butterfly fabric at the shop we got her curtain material.
There was more to Ms. C though. At a time when hormones were high and popularity with boys was of the highest importance, she was unmarried. A successful, tough, but fair, career oriented lady who was not married. I don't know that I thought about it much at the time. I have no idea why she wasn't married, it doesn't matter really, but I know that it made an impression on me. She was successful and seemed happy without a husband. Don't get me wrong, I'm thankful that I have DH, he's fantastic and I don't know what I'd do without him to share my life, but going through school I never needed a boyfriend to be successful, it was nice to have one, but I didn't have to have one all the time, there were other things that were more important and a man didn't define me.
Then there was the time a student in our class was hospitalized. No one said it out loud because of the stigma attached to her diagnosis, but we all knew privately that she was admitted to try and manage her anorexia. Ms. C. didn't address it directly, but what she did say resonated with me. Here is the way I remember it. She said "Girls, when you stand looking at yourself in a mirror, if your belly sticks out past your boobs you're in trouble. If it doesn't, your just fine." She made it so matter of fact and so simple. No BMI, no scale measurements, no technical jargon about build and bone density or percentage of body fat. No mention of boys or body image or self esteem. Nope, just a mirror and yourself. 25 years on and it's still just me and the mirror and Ms. C's wisdom running through my head.
There were a lot of kids who thought she was too tough and too picky. That she expected too much from us. They questioned what was so bad about one little thread that wasn't cut just so? To me she was fair, she was honest and she didn't expect any more from me than I should have been expecting from myself. She taught me that it wasn't the fact that no one else would see the thread, but that I would know it was there and that over time it might just cause the seam to unravel.
So, thank you Ms. C. I've never been able to tell you in person how important your lessons have been in my life. How they have helped me make houses into homes. Helped me to clothe my children. Helped me to look in the mirror, smile at your wisdom and feel okay. When this new culture I'm in makes it so easy to hire someone else to do things for me, I remember to appreciate the value, both financial and emotional, of doing some things for myself.
Your lessons have touched every aspect of my life through the years and some day when DD is old enough, I will stand her in the mirror and tell her, "When your belly sticks out past your boobs you're in trouble, but until then you're good the way that you are."
I'll let DS #2 know it's not about clipping the thread and finishing things you start, but how you feel about yourself and the possible consequences if you don't finish.
And when DS #1 is struggling and feeling like a failure because school is so hard, I will say a prayer that some day he will have a teacher that resonates with him as much as you did with me. Because in the end it doesn't matter how many degrees or diploma's you have, it's just you and the mirror.
Next Post - Cape Racife Lighthouse
Sunday 19 June 2011
All things Rand
In the first few days before we got any of our stuff from home we took the kids to see the movie RIO for something to do. The kids loved it.
So, driving through town after that I saw all these road side vendors with bags of wood and hand painted signs saying "RIO". "Weird" I thought, "RIO must mean wood in one of the 11 official languages of South Africa." A few days later I had an ah ha moment. "Ah ha" I thought, "not RIO, R10" That would be Rand (R) ten (10). A bag of wood was 10 Rand, written R10. Duh!!!!
So it's taken me some time to think in R not $. The exchange rate is roughly 7 Rand to 1 Canadian Dollar, but prices here include the VAT (Value Added Tax). So by the time you put the 13% HST on the sticker price of goods and services in Ontario it's just easier for me to divide by 10 to get an approximate cost comparison.
Paying for things here is sometimes a strange phenomena. When you are at a retailer paying for goods, they take cash, credit cards and debit/cheque cards just like in Canada but when it comes to services things get weird.
When I need to pay for the gardener, house cleaners, dog kennel or opthamologist it's by EFT (electronic fund transfer). On their invoice they provide you with the name of their bank, account number, and branch number. Then you just transfer the funds to them via Internet banking. The ophthamologist told me she doesn't like to have cash hanging around which is why she does it this way, even if it takes longer sometimes. I suppose it's like direct withdrawl or deposit, in a way. I mean I used to share my account information via void cheque with the government and my workplace, but I can't imagine having given my account information to my daycare parents and saying, just transfer me the money. It's a different system and widely used here. It avoids the need to carry large amounts of cash which is a safety factor, obviously. It's just something that is different to get used to. Account information has always felt like personal information. Much like my passport number I don't like to share it and certainly don't like to have other peoples information, but that's the way transactions are done here, so I just need to get used to it.
Then there is the pre-paid nature of some services. Cell phones for example. I can't get a cell phone contract. In order to get a contract I need to have proof of residence, ID card or passport, have lived in the country for 3 months and have a reference letter from my financial institution saying that I have the income to pay for a monthly contract. So I prepay. It's a strange prepay though. I can go to the Vodacom (my carrier) shop or I can go to any cash register at just about any grocery store or service station in the city. I can get more air time or more data time for my cell phone, or top up my Internet for home. They print out a receipt with a 16 or 20 digit code. I call a special number from my cell phone and enter the code on the receipt and voila, more air time. It's pretty slick really until you realize that you can only get a limited amount of air time per receipt and pre-paid time doesn't roll over, but ends 30 days after you enter it. It's also really hard to budget since there is no set amount per month, so now my job is to keep track of how much air time and data I use and try to average it into a monthly amount for our budget.
When I think about it, this is probably pretty similar to pre-paid in Canada. I use to see the Fido or Rogers cards at the various grocery stores, but it never meant much to me because I had a contract for my cell phone. So, it stands to reason that, just because it's new for me here doesn't necessarily mean it's because I'm in South Africa, but instead it could just be related to my particular life experience. I need to keep that in mind.
P.S. Happy Father's Day, Dad.
Next Post - Thanks Ms. C
So, driving through town after that I saw all these road side vendors with bags of wood and hand painted signs saying "RIO". "Weird" I thought, "RIO must mean wood in one of the 11 official languages of South Africa." A few days later I had an ah ha moment. "Ah ha" I thought, "not RIO, R10" That would be Rand (R) ten (10). A bag of wood was 10 Rand, written R10. Duh!!!!
So it's taken me some time to think in R not $. The exchange rate is roughly 7 Rand to 1 Canadian Dollar, but prices here include the VAT (Value Added Tax). So by the time you put the 13% HST on the sticker price of goods and services in Ontario it's just easier for me to divide by 10 to get an approximate cost comparison.
Paying for things here is sometimes a strange phenomena. When you are at a retailer paying for goods, they take cash, credit cards and debit/cheque cards just like in Canada but when it comes to services things get weird.
When I need to pay for the gardener, house cleaners, dog kennel or opthamologist it's by EFT (electronic fund transfer). On their invoice they provide you with the name of their bank, account number, and branch number. Then you just transfer the funds to them via Internet banking. The ophthamologist told me she doesn't like to have cash hanging around which is why she does it this way, even if it takes longer sometimes. I suppose it's like direct withdrawl or deposit, in a way. I mean I used to share my account information via void cheque with the government and my workplace, but I can't imagine having given my account information to my daycare parents and saying, just transfer me the money. It's a different system and widely used here. It avoids the need to carry large amounts of cash which is a safety factor, obviously. It's just something that is different to get used to. Account information has always felt like personal information. Much like my passport number I don't like to share it and certainly don't like to have other peoples information, but that's the way transactions are done here, so I just need to get used to it.
Then there is the pre-paid nature of some services. Cell phones for example. I can't get a cell phone contract. In order to get a contract I need to have proof of residence, ID card or passport, have lived in the country for 3 months and have a reference letter from my financial institution saying that I have the income to pay for a monthly contract. So I prepay. It's a strange prepay though. I can go to the Vodacom (my carrier) shop or I can go to any cash register at just about any grocery store or service station in the city. I can get more air time or more data time for my cell phone, or top up my Internet for home. They print out a receipt with a 16 or 20 digit code. I call a special number from my cell phone and enter the code on the receipt and voila, more air time. It's pretty slick really until you realize that you can only get a limited amount of air time per receipt and pre-paid time doesn't roll over, but ends 30 days after you enter it. It's also really hard to budget since there is no set amount per month, so now my job is to keep track of how much air time and data I use and try to average it into a monthly amount for our budget.
When I think about it, this is probably pretty similar to pre-paid in Canada. I use to see the Fido or Rogers cards at the various grocery stores, but it never meant much to me because I had a contract for my cell phone. So, it stands to reason that, just because it's new for me here doesn't necessarily mean it's because I'm in South Africa, but instead it could just be related to my particular life experience. I need to keep that in mind.
P.S. Happy Father's Day, Dad.
Next Post - Thanks Ms. C
Saturday 18 June 2011
South African Vernacular
This morning as I was pulling into the garage after dropping the boys at school I noticed DD's bike was very close to where the car (still a rental, sigh!) was going to be. DD noticed it too. After I had pulled in, avoiding the bike of course, DD hopped out of the car and said "I'll move that, just now!" Not something I would have heard from her back in Canada. So, she is obviously picking up some of the South African vernacular.
Let's start with the definition of vernacular. According to Mirriam-Webster it means: using a language or dialect native to a region or country rather than a literary, cultured, or foreign language.
In South Africa there are 11 official languages recognized in the constitution. English is actually the 6th most common home language, though it is the primary language of government and business (according to Wikipedia). So, it's not surprising that some of the common vernacular is taken from other languages.
Take my conversation in the uniform shop for example. The language of the school is English, the language at the store is English. The uniform list had Tackies on it. So, not being familiar with the word, here is how the conversation went.
Me - "The uniform list says white Tackies, what are Tackies?"
Employee - "You know Teckies" (their "a" sounds like our short "e")
Me - Thinking in my head - "Well if I knew Tackies, I wouldn't be asking now would I?"
Saying out of my mouth - "I'm not familiar with the term could you describe them to me"
Employee - "Well Teckies, you know, ummmm..."
Me - Thinking in my head - "sigh!"
Employee - "Right, shoes, shoes for physical education"
Me - "Oh running shoes"
So, Tackies are running shoes.
According to Africanderisms by Rev. Charles Pettnam (1913) - In the border towns of the Eastern Province this is the name given to rubber soled canvas shoes. Tackies have been around a long time. In fact a little while into the adventure we actually found a store called Tekkie Town. I bet you can figure out what they sell.
Here are some of the other phrases and terms that I have noticed thus far.
Is it? = Really?
Shame = Oh Dear or Oh No
Serviette = Napkin
Napkin = Diaper
Chips = French Fries
Crisps = Potato Chips
Sosaties = originally lamb on a skewer, now any meat marinated, sometimes with vegetables on a skewer
Alice Band = Hair Band (like Alice in Wonderland wore)
Pleasure = You're Welcome
Washing Powder = Laundry Soap
Just now = At some point in time in the future from 5 min. to 5 days
Now, Now = Sooner than Just Now
Tomato Sauce = Ketchup
Biltong = Jerky (dried meat)
Streaky bacon = what we know as bacon
Bakkie - truck (see conversation on tackie and yes the spelling is correct for both, I triple checked)
Rovie = Land Rover
Disco = Land Rover Discovery
How's it? - Hi, how are you?
For those of you who will see us when we visit home, you might want to print off this list, because yesterday I said "Is it?" and asked for tomato sauce for my chips and I've only been here 2 months.
Next Post - All things Rand
Let's start with the definition of vernacular. According to Mirriam-Webster it means: using a language or dialect native to a region or country rather than a literary, cultured, or foreign language.
In South Africa there are 11 official languages recognized in the constitution. English is actually the 6th most common home language, though it is the primary language of government and business (according to Wikipedia). So, it's not surprising that some of the common vernacular is taken from other languages.
Take my conversation in the uniform shop for example. The language of the school is English, the language at the store is English. The uniform list had Tackies on it. So, not being familiar with the word, here is how the conversation went.
Me - "The uniform list says white Tackies, what are Tackies?"
Employee - "You know Teckies" (their "a" sounds like our short "e")
Me - Thinking in my head - "Well if I knew Tackies, I wouldn't be asking now would I?"
Saying out of my mouth - "I'm not familiar with the term could you describe them to me"
Employee - "Well Teckies, you know, ummmm..."
Me - Thinking in my head - "sigh!"
Employee - "Right, shoes, shoes for physical education"
Me - "Oh running shoes"
So, Tackies are running shoes.
According to Africanderisms by Rev. Charles Pettnam (1913) - In the border towns of the Eastern Province this is the name given to rubber soled canvas shoes. Tackies have been around a long time. In fact a little while into the adventure we actually found a store called Tekkie Town. I bet you can figure out what they sell.
Here are some of the other phrases and terms that I have noticed thus far.
Is it? = Really?
Shame = Oh Dear or Oh No
Serviette = Napkin
Napkin = Diaper
Chips = French Fries
Crisps = Potato Chips
Sosaties = originally lamb on a skewer, now any meat marinated, sometimes with vegetables on a skewer
Alice Band = Hair Band (like Alice in Wonderland wore)
Pleasure = You're Welcome
Washing Powder = Laundry Soap
Just now = At some point in time in the future from 5 min. to 5 days
Now, Now = Sooner than Just Now
Tomato Sauce = Ketchup
Biltong = Jerky (dried meat)
Streaky bacon = what we know as bacon
Bakkie - truck (see conversation on tackie and yes the spelling is correct for both, I triple checked)
Rovie = Land Rover
Disco = Land Rover Discovery
How's it? - Hi, how are you?
For those of you who will see us when we visit home, you might want to print off this list, because yesterday I said "Is it?" and asked for tomato sauce for my chips and I've only been here 2 months.
Next Post - All things Rand
Thursday 16 June 2011
Plett Puzzle Park
A couple of years ago we were visiting friends in the Ottawa area and looking for something to do with 6 young kids. We decided to go to Saunders Farm. The kids loved all the mazes and so since then we've been on the lookout for something similar.
While I was researching our trip to Plettenberg Bay I came across Plett Puzzle Park. So off we went, hoping to re-create the awesome day we had with our friends in Ottawa.
We fell a bit short in our re-creation, as we dearly missed the companionship of our friends, but the park was a really unique and enjoyable adventure.
There are 2 primary attractions to Plett Puzzle Park. The first is a 3D maze. At each corner is a different coloured tower (blue, green, yellow and red). You start at the centre of the maze and are given a blue triangular prism and told to find the blue tower and insert the prism into the puzzle box. The blue box kicks out a green prism of a different shape, then you need to do the same at the green and yellow towers. At the red tower you are presented with a round disc containing all 4 colours to prove that you completed the maze. The maze consists of dead ends and 3 double sided bridges to go up and down Here's what it looked like. You can just see the peak of the blue tower over the top of the bridge.
Larger groups are divided into teams and you are meant to race against each other. It was DS #1 and #2 and I (well really I was taking more pictures than helping) and DD and her daddy on the other team. DS #1 is dyslexic. His brain works differently than most of the population. It doesn't do sequences, as in turn right here turn left there, or these letters go together, in this order, to make a word. His brain sort of sees the big picture in 3 dimensions. So while reading and writing in a sequential linear fashion are a huge challenge for him, this 3D maze was easy peasy. He dragged DS #2 around showing him where to go. He didn't have to look down from the bridge like I did to try and figure it out in sequence. I can't really describe it, he just knew which way to go to get to places and he didn't put too many paces wrong. It was pretty awesome. He was totally in his element and he was done in about 20 min. The average, we were told is 45min. to an hour. Adding my help, DH, DD and I finished in about 40 min. Thankfully there was a kids area in sight of the bridge that DS #1 and #2 could play at while we plodded along.
Here's DS #2 and DD clipped to the ropes in survivor mode.
All in all a terrific morning. After a brief stop for lunch at the restaurant next to the Mohair Mill Shop the kids were sufficiently tired and blissfully quiet on the 2 hour ride home.
Next Post - South African Vernacular
While I was researching our trip to Plettenberg Bay I came across Plett Puzzle Park. So off we went, hoping to re-create the awesome day we had with our friends in Ottawa.
We fell a bit short in our re-creation, as we dearly missed the companionship of our friends, but the park was a really unique and enjoyable adventure.
There are 2 primary attractions to Plett Puzzle Park. The first is a 3D maze. At each corner is a different coloured tower (blue, green, yellow and red). You start at the centre of the maze and are given a blue triangular prism and told to find the blue tower and insert the prism into the puzzle box. The blue box kicks out a green prism of a different shape, then you need to do the same at the green and yellow towers. At the red tower you are presented with a round disc containing all 4 colours to prove that you completed the maze. The maze consists of dead ends and 3 double sided bridges to go up and down Here's what it looked like. You can just see the peak of the blue tower over the top of the bridge.
Here's DD and DH getting the yellow cylinder from the green box.
Larger groups are divided into teams and you are meant to race against each other. It was DS #1 and #2 and I (well really I was taking more pictures than helping) and DD and her daddy on the other team. DS #1 is dyslexic. His brain works differently than most of the population. It doesn't do sequences, as in turn right here turn left there, or these letters go together, in this order, to make a word. His brain sort of sees the big picture in 3 dimensions. So while reading and writing in a sequential linear fashion are a huge challenge for him, this 3D maze was easy peasy. He dragged DS #2 around showing him where to go. He didn't have to look down from the bridge like I did to try and figure it out in sequence. I can't really describe it, he just knew which way to go to get to places and he didn't put too many paces wrong. It was pretty awesome. He was totally in his element and he was done in about 20 min. The average, we were told is 45min. to an hour. Adding my help, DH, DD and I finished in about 40 min. Thankfully there was a kids area in sight of the bridge that DS #1 and #2 could play at while we plodded along.
The second big attraction was the forest maze. This was a set of 9 rather ingenious puzzle boxes interspersed along a 1km trail through indigenous forest. Each puzzle box was different. The puzzles were hidden on the underside of a board that became the top of a box. When you flipped the board up, a timer started a 5 min. count down and the pieces required to solve the puzzle became accessible. There was a hint, but if you lifted it up you forfeited the token you could receive for solving it in 5 min. Once you got the puzzle right the timer stopped and a token dropped out of the side of the puzzle box. Get 7 out of 9 tokens and they gave you one free drink. One of the puzzles was a map of South Africa. One was a sudoku type puzzle. One was true or false questions and one was a move the matchsticks type puzzle. We solved 7 of 9 by ourselves and because we were the only visitors that morning one of the staff joined us and helped on the other two. So we had all 9 tokens to turn in.
The last section of the park is a kids area with a smaller maze and a survivor type rope course.
All in all a terrific morning. After a brief stop for lunch at the restaurant next to the Mohair Mill Shop the kids were sufficiently tired and blissfully quiet on the 2 hour ride home.
Next Post - South African Vernacular
Tuesday 14 June 2011
A hockey wife in Africa
I know, I know another diversion from the next post promise, but here's the thing, I am Canadian, married to a Boston fan and last night was game six of the Stanley Cup finals.
Dh is a bit of a hockey fanatic. He grew up playing hockey and watching hockey in small town Canada back when there was no cable and one of the only stations you got on antenna was CBC (Canadian Broadcasting Corporation). Everyone got Hockey Night in Canada on CBC.
Dh continued to play hockey (ice and ball) through university and beyond until a few weeks before we left for PE. He played on Friday nights or on weekends before I went to work. When I worked the early shift he would call my mom and ask if she could come over to watch the kids until he got home from hockey so I could make it to work on time.
There were always new pieces of equipment arriving in the mail or issues of Hockey News lying around the house. When we moved we had a whole hockey bag full of spare equipment to go to Play it Again Sports. The net, goalie equipment and one stick for each of us came to South Africa and have a permanent place on the driveway. The skates and good equipment are at my folks so he can join a game when we come home for Christmas.
So what happens? We move halfway around the world to a place where they have no hockey (unless you count field hockey) and dh's team actually gets to the finals for the first time in 21 years. They got there in 1990 (they lost). They lost in 74, 77, 78, and 88 too. The last time Boston won the cup was when dh was a toddler in 1972.
This is big, huge, ginormous stuff to have Boston in the finals for dh. I know this because at 04:50 this morning dh was up in bed on the internet keeping track of the last minute news feed of game 6. Yup, the 6 hour time difference really bites in some situations.
Me, I'm in a win win. I don't really have a team. So it's cool if Vancouver can bring the cup back to Canada for the first time since 1993, it's also cool if dh's team wins because I love him and I know how big a fan he is. Either way I win. But just in case dh reads this post. Go Boston ;)
Post Script: Thursday June 16th. Yahhhhh! Dh is a happy happy Boston fan. Bonus to being 6 hours ahead of Ontario is that we are 9 hours difference from Vancouver, dh has already ordered his hat and various other paraphenalia at 00:00 Vancouver time beating the am rush in North America. Now we just need to watch the game.
Next Post: Plett Puzzle Park
Dh is a bit of a hockey fanatic. He grew up playing hockey and watching hockey in small town Canada back when there was no cable and one of the only stations you got on antenna was CBC (Canadian Broadcasting Corporation). Everyone got Hockey Night in Canada on CBC.
Dh continued to play hockey (ice and ball) through university and beyond until a few weeks before we left for PE. He played on Friday nights or on weekends before I went to work. When I worked the early shift he would call my mom and ask if she could come over to watch the kids until he got home from hockey so I could make it to work on time.
There were always new pieces of equipment arriving in the mail or issues of Hockey News lying around the house. When we moved we had a whole hockey bag full of spare equipment to go to Play it Again Sports. The net, goalie equipment and one stick for each of us came to South Africa and have a permanent place on the driveway. The skates and good equipment are at my folks so he can join a game when we come home for Christmas.
So what happens? We move halfway around the world to a place where they have no hockey (unless you count field hockey) and dh's team actually gets to the finals for the first time in 21 years. They got there in 1990 (they lost). They lost in 74, 77, 78, and 88 too. The last time Boston won the cup was when dh was a toddler in 1972.
This is big, huge, ginormous stuff to have Boston in the finals for dh. I know this because at 04:50 this morning dh was up in bed on the internet keeping track of the last minute news feed of game 6. Yup, the 6 hour time difference really bites in some situations.
Me, I'm in a win win. I don't really have a team. So it's cool if Vancouver can bring the cup back to Canada for the first time since 1993, it's also cool if dh's team wins because I love him and I know how big a fan he is. Either way I win. But just in case dh reads this post. Go Boston ;)
Post Script: Thursday June 16th. Yahhhhh! Dh is a happy happy Boston fan. Bonus to being 6 hours ahead of Ontario is that we are 9 hours difference from Vancouver, dh has already ordered his hat and various other paraphenalia at 00:00 Vancouver time beating the am rush in North America. Now we just need to watch the game.
Next Post: Plett Puzzle Park
Monday 13 June 2011
No shirt, no shoes, no service
That was the saying I grew up with in Canada. Over the years they added things like no rollerblades, but without shirt or shoes you could be asked to leave a store or restaurant. There are universal picto-signs posted on the shop doors to indicate this. On the other side of the coin, proper etiquette when entering someones home in Canada is to remove your shoes or boots.
Here in PE things are a bit different. Shoes are not removed when you enter someones home. Any of the homes that I have been to have been fully tiled or hardwood, there is only carpeting in the bedrooms and up stairs rooms. It seemed strange in the beginning, but started to make sense. I am outside as much as I am inside, or more. There is rarely rain and never snow to cause mud or water to be tracked through the house. The floors are easy to maintain with just a quick sweep and mop and to be honest most families have some sort of domestic worker to clean up if dirt is tracked in and to ensure that the floors stay clean. Being tile and hardwood, the floors also have a tendency to be cool or cold, great in the summer, but down right chilly in the winter. So removing shoes could lead to guests being uncomfortable.
We do not have a domestic worker so I still try to make sure we all take our shoes off as per Canadian norm and wear slippers (thanks grandma, the ones you made are awesome for this), but I find I am slipping more and more as leaving my shoes on is much more convenient during the day.
As much as shoes in the house surprised me, what surprised me even more was the number of children who go barefoot and where they do it. Now, it may just be because we need to wear shoes or boots 9-10 months out of the year that our feet are delicate in Canada, but here when the neighbours come to play, they skip across the pave stone road barefoot. They run over the grass and weeds and sticks and twigs barefoot. They ride their bikes barefoot. But it's not just in the neighbourhood. I've seen kids barefoot in grocery stores and restaurants, parking lots and arcades. I've even seen it in the mall. These are not the children who beg on the street and don't have shoes to wear. These are children with moms and dads shopping and evidently having money to spend that just aren't wearing shoes.
Back last February just before we came for our visit to PE I had my toenails done because we were coming to the beach. I don't do it often and silly me I wore boots in the middle of February in Canada. Those of you who have had a pedicure know that you can't just put your boots on after you're done or you wreck the polish. I had forgotten this. I couldn't very well hang out for 2 hours to let my nails dry completely so I asked for a pair of the disposable flip flops that the spa had. They are about 2mm thick and it just about killed me walking to the car in them. Not because it was -20C, but because the little stones and salt crystals pierced through the bottom of the flip flops.
Here in PE these kids are obviously not wearing shoes from the car to the mall and then taking them off, they must be walking across the pavement, pebbles and all. Ouchy. I for one will be keeping my shoes on and I'll be making sure my kids do too, but if you come to visit, you can go barefoot in the malls and keep your shoes on in the house, all the locals do.
Next Post - Plett Puzzle Park
Here in PE things are a bit different. Shoes are not removed when you enter someones home. Any of the homes that I have been to have been fully tiled or hardwood, there is only carpeting in the bedrooms and up stairs rooms. It seemed strange in the beginning, but started to make sense. I am outside as much as I am inside, or more. There is rarely rain and never snow to cause mud or water to be tracked through the house. The floors are easy to maintain with just a quick sweep and mop and to be honest most families have some sort of domestic worker to clean up if dirt is tracked in and to ensure that the floors stay clean. Being tile and hardwood, the floors also have a tendency to be cool or cold, great in the summer, but down right chilly in the winter. So removing shoes could lead to guests being uncomfortable.
We do not have a domestic worker so I still try to make sure we all take our shoes off as per Canadian norm and wear slippers (thanks grandma, the ones you made are awesome for this), but I find I am slipping more and more as leaving my shoes on is much more convenient during the day.
As much as shoes in the house surprised me, what surprised me even more was the number of children who go barefoot and where they do it. Now, it may just be because we need to wear shoes or boots 9-10 months out of the year that our feet are delicate in Canada, but here when the neighbours come to play, they skip across the pave stone road barefoot. They run over the grass and weeds and sticks and twigs barefoot. They ride their bikes barefoot. But it's not just in the neighbourhood. I've seen kids barefoot in grocery stores and restaurants, parking lots and arcades. I've even seen it in the mall. These are not the children who beg on the street and don't have shoes to wear. These are children with moms and dads shopping and evidently having money to spend that just aren't wearing shoes.
Back last February just before we came for our visit to PE I had my toenails done because we were coming to the beach. I don't do it often and silly me I wore boots in the middle of February in Canada. Those of you who have had a pedicure know that you can't just put your boots on after you're done or you wreck the polish. I had forgotten this. I couldn't very well hang out for 2 hours to let my nails dry completely so I asked for a pair of the disposable flip flops that the spa had. They are about 2mm thick and it just about killed me walking to the car in them. Not because it was -20C, but because the little stones and salt crystals pierced through the bottom of the flip flops.
Here in PE these kids are obviously not wearing shoes from the car to the mall and then taking them off, they must be walking across the pavement, pebbles and all. Ouchy. I for one will be keeping my shoes on and I'll be making sure my kids do too, but if you come to visit, you can go barefoot in the malls and keep your shoes on in the house, all the locals do.
Next Post - Plett Puzzle Park
Saturday 11 June 2011
Being Canadian
It's strange being a foreigner. Here's what usually happens (or something similar).
South African - "Hallo, hoe gaan dit (vandag) met jou?" I look Afrikaaner.
Me - "Sorry, I only speak English"
South African - "What part of America are you from?" Not once have I been asked where in Canada are you from?
Me - "Actually, I'm Canadian"
South African - "Is it? My (insert distant relative) lives in Canada. From my completely non-scientific, anecdotal evidence, quite a few South Africans have emigrated to Canada.
Me - "Really, where in Canada?"
South African - "I can't recall just now." or "Somewhere near Vancouver"
Me - "Well it is a big country" or "Vancouver is a long way from where we lived"
Then we get into discussions about the weather. They assume that the weather here is much hotter than I have ever experienced before. I explain how August (or June from what I hear at the moment) in Southern Ontario is hotter and more humid than here in PE, even in the summer, and they are surprised. They ask about snow and comment on how their 19C winter probably isn't as cold as we get in Canada. I say "No, not quite as cold". If I have time I tell them about how we have 4 true seasons and around a 70C variance from our hottest humid to our coldest windchill, where I come from. They are always amazed.
Sometimes, I get the really funny stereotypes coming out, like when the pest control guy arrived. He found out I was Canadian and immediately asked me to say "Out and about". He looked shocked and disappointed and then said, "but that didn't sound like a boot at all."
Then there was the neighbour who quietly said "I don't want you to take offense, but can I ask you a question?" She wanted to know "Why do Americans and Canadians hate each other so much?" I told her if we hated each other as much as she thought, it would be highly unlikely that we would share the longest undefended border (military wise at least) in the world. She nodded her head and told me her sister lived in the states and was married to an American and it was interesting to hear a Canadian perspective.
To be honest I really didn't give being a foreigner much thought before we left. I was too busy moving a family. It wasn't until I got to PE that I realized just how unknown Canadians are here. The day after we arrived we went to one of the local malls to pick up a few needed items. The sales associate was a lovely chatty woman who had never met a Canadian before. We bought a coffee maker, vacuum and a few other things from her. She was intrigued to meet a Canadian, we talked for a long time while the bill was being tallied up. When I ran into her at the mall a few days later she recognized me immediately and called me by my first name. I didn't recall hers. She told me she was telling all her friends about the really nice Canadian family she met and how polite and patient we were.
She really got me to thinking. All of a sudden, I felt like I was an ambassador of the average Canadian and I asked myself what kind of representative did I want to be.
So, I have started paying more attention to the little things. Never known for my posture, I find myself standing a little straighter. Never one to pay much attention to what I'm wearing day to day, I look twice in the mirror to make sure I am presentable. I wear mascara everyday and blow dry my hair all pretty like. (Sorry Eco Mama it has to be done). I have even been known to (gasp) apply lipstick prior to leaving the house in the day time, sans dh, for no special occasion at all. I see you smiling, mom!
These aren't major things I know, but they do make an impression. I could be the tired, haggard, rushed Canadian mom all I wanted to back at home. All my mom friends understood. Here it's different. It's not that the mom's here are any different than I was back in Canada, they are not. But here, I need to be more than that. And that, I have decided, is no bad thing.
Next Post - No shirt, no shoes, no service
South African - "Hallo, hoe gaan dit (vandag) met jou?" I look Afrikaaner.
Me - "Sorry, I only speak English"
South African - "What part of America are you from?" Not once have I been asked where in Canada are you from?
Me - "Actually, I'm Canadian"
South African - "Is it? My (insert distant relative) lives in Canada. From my completely non-scientific, anecdotal evidence, quite a few South Africans have emigrated to Canada.
Me - "Really, where in Canada?"
South African - "I can't recall just now." or "Somewhere near Vancouver"
Me - "Well it is a big country" or "Vancouver is a long way from where we lived"
Then we get into discussions about the weather. They assume that the weather here is much hotter than I have ever experienced before. I explain how August (or June from what I hear at the moment) in Southern Ontario is hotter and more humid than here in PE, even in the summer, and they are surprised. They ask about snow and comment on how their 19C winter probably isn't as cold as we get in Canada. I say "No, not quite as cold". If I have time I tell them about how we have 4 true seasons and around a 70C variance from our hottest humid to our coldest windchill, where I come from. They are always amazed.
Sometimes, I get the really funny stereotypes coming out, like when the pest control guy arrived. He found out I was Canadian and immediately asked me to say "Out and about". He looked shocked and disappointed and then said, "but that didn't sound like a boot at all."
Then there was the neighbour who quietly said "I don't want you to take offense, but can I ask you a question?" She wanted to know "Why do Americans and Canadians hate each other so much?" I told her if we hated each other as much as she thought, it would be highly unlikely that we would share the longest undefended border (military wise at least) in the world. She nodded her head and told me her sister lived in the states and was married to an American and it was interesting to hear a Canadian perspective.
To be honest I really didn't give being a foreigner much thought before we left. I was too busy moving a family. It wasn't until I got to PE that I realized just how unknown Canadians are here. The day after we arrived we went to one of the local malls to pick up a few needed items. The sales associate was a lovely chatty woman who had never met a Canadian before. We bought a coffee maker, vacuum and a few other things from her. She was intrigued to meet a Canadian, we talked for a long time while the bill was being tallied up. When I ran into her at the mall a few days later she recognized me immediately and called me by my first name. I didn't recall hers. She told me she was telling all her friends about the really nice Canadian family she met and how polite and patient we were.
She really got me to thinking. All of a sudden, I felt like I was an ambassador of the average Canadian and I asked myself what kind of representative did I want to be.
So, I have started paying more attention to the little things. Never known for my posture, I find myself standing a little straighter. Never one to pay much attention to what I'm wearing day to day, I look twice in the mirror to make sure I am presentable. I wear mascara everyday and blow dry my hair all pretty like. (Sorry Eco Mama it has to be done). I have even been known to (gasp) apply lipstick prior to leaving the house in the day time, sans dh, for no special occasion at all. I see you smiling, mom!
These aren't major things I know, but they do make an impression. I could be the tired, haggard, rushed Canadian mom all I wanted to back at home. All my mom friends understood. Here it's different. It's not that the mom's here are any different than I was back in Canada, they are not. But here, I need to be more than that. And that, I have decided, is no bad thing.
Next Post - No shirt, no shoes, no service
Thursday 9 June 2011
Birds of Eden - Part Two
There were birds with funny beaks. Like the Red Billed Hornbill, native toWest, East and South Africa .
There were birds with funny hair. Like the Crowned Crane from South Africa, Kenya and Uganda.
Then there were birds that were so perfectly amazing that they hardly looked real. Like this Mandarin Duck from Eastern Asia.
But the one bird that DD was dying to see was the flamingo. The shallow pond that held the flamingo's and scarlet ibis was hidden just around a bend in the path. DH says her face was priceless when she turned the corner and came face to face with her favorite bird. It was all she could talk about for hours afterwards. This is the greater flamingo from the Caribbean, Africa, South West Europe and Asia.
There were many more birds and there are many more photos on file, but this is the last photo I will post of Birds of Eden because these are the ones that most fascinate DS #1 and myself. They are weavers. We have Cape Weavers around our neighbourhood and you can see their nests in the trees. If you look closely in the photo you can just make out the Golden Palm Weaver hanging upside down and weaving his nest out of fresh twigs. Finished nests dry and turn brown as you can see in the right of the photo.
The one bird in the book that eluded us during our trip was Branta Canadensis. Native to North America and Eastern Siberia. It's a shame really I would have liked to have seen such a rare bird as the Giant Canadian Goose ;)
Next Post - Being Canadian
Wednesday 8 June 2011
Birds of Eden - Part One
Here's just one more of the cool places we visited on our weekend away.
Just next door to Monkeyland was the Birds of Eden Sanctuary. It is the largest single free flight sanctuary in the world. It is a 2+ hectare dome of netting set above a deep gorge. Previously caged birds from all over the globe live there in free flight and South African's who own birds that have been caged can apply to have their birds accepted into residence after a quarantine period.
We did not take a guided tour here, just followed the path and explored an unbelievable variety of avian wildlife in a glorious forest setting. We purchased the guidebook with the species of birds and ducks and other creatures living in the sanctuary.
As it was with Monkeyland many of the birds that we saw were not native to South Africa. Still it did not take away, at all, from the reality that we saw more different species and varieties of birds and ducks in 2 1/2 hours than we could ever see in a lifetime of travel.
When we entered the sanctuary we were told to hide anything shiny and I was advised to take off my earrings and turn around my wedding ring. Apparently, birds like shiny things as much as DD.
The path started at the top of the gorge and wound it's way down in lazy curves with benches to rest on and feeding stations for observation.
Now, in Ontario we have some beautiful birds: cardinals, blue jays, purple martins, orioles, gold finches. Never had we seen anything like we did at Birds of Eden.
The first bird we saw was a Golden Pheasant, native to Central Asia. The photo does not do it's plumage justice at all.
There were of course less colourful, but no less remarkable birds, like this grey lourie or go away bird from South Africa.
Still, colours were the main show at the Birds of Eden. Especially on birds like this Dusky Lory from New Guinea.
Even if we hadn't seen all these amazing birds the setting itself was breathtaking.
Next Post - Birds of Eden - Part Two
Just next door to Monkeyland was the Birds of Eden Sanctuary. It is the largest single free flight sanctuary in the world. It is a 2+ hectare dome of netting set above a deep gorge. Previously caged birds from all over the globe live there in free flight and South African's who own birds that have been caged can apply to have their birds accepted into residence after a quarantine period.
We did not take a guided tour here, just followed the path and explored an unbelievable variety of avian wildlife in a glorious forest setting. We purchased the guidebook with the species of birds and ducks and other creatures living in the sanctuary.
As it was with Monkeyland many of the birds that we saw were not native to South Africa. Still it did not take away, at all, from the reality that we saw more different species and varieties of birds and ducks in 2 1/2 hours than we could ever see in a lifetime of travel.
When we entered the sanctuary we were told to hide anything shiny and I was advised to take off my earrings and turn around my wedding ring. Apparently, birds like shiny things as much as DD.
The path started at the top of the gorge and wound it's way down in lazy curves with benches to rest on and feeding stations for observation.
Now, in Ontario we have some beautiful birds: cardinals, blue jays, purple martins, orioles, gold finches. Never had we seen anything like we did at Birds of Eden.
The first bird we saw was a Golden Pheasant, native to Central Asia. The photo does not do it's plumage justice at all.
There were of course less colourful, but no less remarkable birds, like this grey lourie or go away bird from South Africa.
Still, colours were the main show at the Birds of Eden. Especially on birds like this Dusky Lory from New Guinea.
Or the Jandaya Conure from Brazil.
Even if we hadn't seen all these amazing birds the setting itself was breathtaking.
The sanctuary has done a wonderful job creating so many different types of environments in one space. There is an artificial mist on the suspension bridge that creates a humid rain forest effect below the clouds, there is a shallow pond for the wading birds and a deeper one for the swimmers. There was the plain old everyday indigenous forest and a waterfall that you could walk behind. All of this in 1.2 km pathway and every meter held a new surprise or bird to photograph.
Next Post - Birds of Eden - Part Two
Tuesday 7 June 2011
Things that I miss and didn't think I would (The B's)
When you visit a new country it's nice to try new things. I was looking forward to experiencing a new culture for a few years instead of a few weeks. From what I had seen on our initial visit I was going to love the food, the climate and the natural environment. But having been here for 6 weeks there are a few things that I miss. There are too many to cover from A-Z in one post so I'll start from the beginning. There were no A's, so here are my B's
Basements - They don't have basements in South Africa. The ground never freezes so foundations don't need to be poured below the frost line. I knew I wasn't going to have a basement when we picked this house. I packed accordingly and stored accordingly and I think I got the amount of stuff I brought just right. It's not the storage space I miss. I miss the fact that the basement used to be the kids play space. Not long before we left DD turned 5. She was mostly independent and DH and I had started getting Saturday mornings to sleep in a bit. The kids would go down stairs to the kitchen. The boys would help their sister get cereal for breakfast and then they'd go to the basement to play. 2 floors and sound insulation made for nice quiet mornings to get some extra shut eye. On all the other days of the week if the kids got crazy with friends and toys and I just didn't feel like cleaning up one day (okay, who am I kidding one month), I closed the door and it magically disappeared for a while. Out of sight out of mind, right?
Well, we have 2 lounges (South African vernacular not mine). One on the main level and one just at the top of the stairs. The lower lounge is really just one half of a giant open concept kitchen/dining/living space. Not the kind of place you want all the kids toys to be. So by default the Wii, piano, books and toys all went upstairs. Fantastic, out of sight of the guests. Unfortunately, right outside mommy and daddy's master bedroom door. Sigh. So much for our lazy Saturday mornings and no such thing as out of sight out of mind either.
On the up side we're up early enough on Saturday mornings that we can get on the road to all the fun and exciting things we want to do.
Bisquick - I have this stew recipe that I love. It's from the Eat, Shrink and Be Merry cookbook by the Podleski sisters from Canada. We love it so much that when we were here in February I actually checked to see if they had Herbs de Provence in PE. I couldn't find it so I shipped 2 bottles of my own in the suitcase so I could make the recipe authentic. What I didn't check for was the Bisquick that makes the dumplings on top. We've had the recipe twice now and I have used dumpling mix as a substitute, but it's not the same. It was easy to use the Bisquick to make up pancakes if the kids wanted them or cheesy biscuits for a snack with lunch. I know, I could have made them from scratch, but really it was so versatile and it was always a good fall back plan on those days I didn't know what to cook for supper. Hey kids how about pancakes? Yeh! So I will need to start making my biscuits from scratch. Not a big deal, but it's something I never thought I would miss.
Breakfast sausages - You know the ones. The little tiny links that are maple syrup and brown sugar flavoured. The ones that are all juicy (yes I know it's really just fat) and sort of explode when you poke your fork into them. They don't have them here. Not that I've found yet at any rate. All the sausages here are savoury not sweet. They have pork, lamb, beef, chicken, and kudu sausages, but all of them are savory and all of them are hot dog sized. The closest I have come to finding sweet has been honey with mustard, not your typical breakfast fair. So, I will keep looking, but it may just be one of those things that I ask mom or dad to buy when we come home for Christmas.
Next Post - Birds of Eden - Part One (Back to the touristy stuff)
Basements - They don't have basements in South Africa. The ground never freezes so foundations don't need to be poured below the frost line. I knew I wasn't going to have a basement when we picked this house. I packed accordingly and stored accordingly and I think I got the amount of stuff I brought just right. It's not the storage space I miss. I miss the fact that the basement used to be the kids play space. Not long before we left DD turned 5. She was mostly independent and DH and I had started getting Saturday mornings to sleep in a bit. The kids would go down stairs to the kitchen. The boys would help their sister get cereal for breakfast and then they'd go to the basement to play. 2 floors and sound insulation made for nice quiet mornings to get some extra shut eye. On all the other days of the week if the kids got crazy with friends and toys and I just didn't feel like cleaning up one day (okay, who am I kidding one month), I closed the door and it magically disappeared for a while. Out of sight out of mind, right?
Well, we have 2 lounges (South African vernacular not mine). One on the main level and one just at the top of the stairs. The lower lounge is really just one half of a giant open concept kitchen/dining/living space. Not the kind of place you want all the kids toys to be. So by default the Wii, piano, books and toys all went upstairs. Fantastic, out of sight of the guests. Unfortunately, right outside mommy and daddy's master bedroom door. Sigh. So much for our lazy Saturday mornings and no such thing as out of sight out of mind either.
On the up side we're up early enough on Saturday mornings that we can get on the road to all the fun and exciting things we want to do.
Bisquick - I have this stew recipe that I love. It's from the Eat, Shrink and Be Merry cookbook by the Podleski sisters from Canada. We love it so much that when we were here in February I actually checked to see if they had Herbs de Provence in PE. I couldn't find it so I shipped 2 bottles of my own in the suitcase so I could make the recipe authentic. What I didn't check for was the Bisquick that makes the dumplings on top. We've had the recipe twice now and I have used dumpling mix as a substitute, but it's not the same. It was easy to use the Bisquick to make up pancakes if the kids wanted them or cheesy biscuits for a snack with lunch. I know, I could have made them from scratch, but really it was so versatile and it was always a good fall back plan on those days I didn't know what to cook for supper. Hey kids how about pancakes? Yeh! So I will need to start making my biscuits from scratch. Not a big deal, but it's something I never thought I would miss.
Breakfast sausages - You know the ones. The little tiny links that are maple syrup and brown sugar flavoured. The ones that are all juicy (yes I know it's really just fat) and sort of explode when you poke your fork into them. They don't have them here. Not that I've found yet at any rate. All the sausages here are savoury not sweet. They have pork, lamb, beef, chicken, and kudu sausages, but all of them are savory and all of them are hot dog sized. The closest I have come to finding sweet has been honey with mustard, not your typical breakfast fair. So, I will keep looking, but it may just be one of those things that I ask mom or dad to buy when we come home for Christmas.
Next Post - Birds of Eden - Part One (Back to the touristy stuff)
Monday 6 June 2011
It's not my house.
Right. Let's take a break from the touristy stuff for a post or two and get back to the nitty gritty of moving half way around the world.
I have never rented before. I don't count University residence as renting. I moved from my parents home directly into a house that dh and I had purchased just before the wedding and then we upgraded to a bigger place once the children came. I have always had a say in how things are done and who does them. I have been able to turn my house into my home, whether it was my room at my parents or in my own house. I've been able to upgrade or not depending on our bottom line and generally, whatever I did increased the value of our home, so it was money well spent and it made the house more mine.
This is not my house. This is a rental and it's not even my name on the lease. It's a great house, we picked it and I love it, mostly. The house was a vacation property for the owner and they hadn't used it in almost 3 years when we moved in. Kind of nice to have a mostly brand new home but there are things that weren't done and noticed without someone living here.
If you know me, you know that I am a go getter. That I am not a sit back and wait kind of person. I have been in PE for 6 weeks now. By 4 weeks in I was a cub scout leader. I knew many of the staff at the school by first name. I had offered to help with the school production of Pinocchio. I joined SAALED (South African Association for Learning and Educational Differences) and attended their congress in central PE. I'll be volunteering in the grade 1 class beginning in July because the grade one teacher wants to pick my brain about all my volunteer time in Canada. I've spoken to the volunteer coordinator at the local animal shelter and am waiting until I have some free time to spend a morning a week at the shelter helping out where I can. That's on top of all the laundry, taxiing, tutoring, grocery shopping, a new blog and various other tasks of a mother of 3. Patience is not one of my strengths.
So, here's my problem. How do I make a house that's not mine a home that is? I can't go and get the things that are needed for this house. It's not up to me. We have a lease and a property manager, who has to clear everything with the owner. Then a contractor needs to show up and assess, then write a quote. Then the quote needs to be submitted to the property manager who then has to clear it with the owner. Then we have to wait until the contractor has time to show up and fix the problem. Meanwhile, there is a colony of ants inhabiting the broadloom in DS#1's bedroom, and the paint is peeling from the walls due to water damage. Neither of these or the other little things on my list of deficiencies is life threatening. It doesn't make the house unlivable, but I can't put curtains up in ds #1's room because the screw holding up the curtain rod rusted through from the water damage. There is no point in putting up artwork or kids photos if it's not painted.
If I hire someone to fix something on my own, like the ant problem, and the carpets get damaged or something untoward happens, technically, I am not responsible. It isn't my name on the lease, but the company becomes responsible and obviously I can't let that happen. If I upgrade the gardens or curtains, it may be adding value to the house, but it's not my value. It's not my house, but it has to be my home for the next 2 - 4 years.
So I am struggling to come to some kind of compromise between my go getter self and the reality of my situation. How do I balance making it a comfortable home for my family without making too many changes to the house. The place will be painted, eventually, when the water damage is fixed. The company had offered to do that before I found the damage, as the walls have nail holes and such from the previous owners. I've even picked out the paint. It will be lovely, someday, sigh.
I waffle back and forth from day to day on decisions like; Do I really want to replace the 8 panels of fully lined orange drapes in the open concept living area or can I live with them? Do I replace the weed field in the backyard and re-sod or seed? Could I live with my environmental self if I followed the advice of the garden service guy and use a broad leaf herbicide to kill all the weeds and give the lawn room to grow?
I've always said that home is where our family of 5 (and dog) is. I must believe that or I never would have agreed to this move. Still, in the end I want to live in a home that I can be proud of, that I can invite family and friends to visit and they will know that it is my home, not just a house that we live in.
It's not my house, but I hope someday (soon) it will feel like my home.
Next Post - Things that I miss and never thought I would. (The B's)
I have never rented before. I don't count University residence as renting. I moved from my parents home directly into a house that dh and I had purchased just before the wedding and then we upgraded to a bigger place once the children came. I have always had a say in how things are done and who does them. I have been able to turn my house into my home, whether it was my room at my parents or in my own house. I've been able to upgrade or not depending on our bottom line and generally, whatever I did increased the value of our home, so it was money well spent and it made the house more mine.
This is not my house. This is a rental and it's not even my name on the lease. It's a great house, we picked it and I love it, mostly. The house was a vacation property for the owner and they hadn't used it in almost 3 years when we moved in. Kind of nice to have a mostly brand new home but there are things that weren't done and noticed without someone living here.
If you know me, you know that I am a go getter. That I am not a sit back and wait kind of person. I have been in PE for 6 weeks now. By 4 weeks in I was a cub scout leader. I knew many of the staff at the school by first name. I had offered to help with the school production of Pinocchio. I joined SAALED (South African Association for Learning and Educational Differences) and attended their congress in central PE. I'll be volunteering in the grade 1 class beginning in July because the grade one teacher wants to pick my brain about all my volunteer time in Canada. I've spoken to the volunteer coordinator at the local animal shelter and am waiting until I have some free time to spend a morning a week at the shelter helping out where I can. That's on top of all the laundry, taxiing, tutoring, grocery shopping, a new blog and various other tasks of a mother of 3. Patience is not one of my strengths.
So, here's my problem. How do I make a house that's not mine a home that is? I can't go and get the things that are needed for this house. It's not up to me. We have a lease and a property manager, who has to clear everything with the owner. Then a contractor needs to show up and assess, then write a quote. Then the quote needs to be submitted to the property manager who then has to clear it with the owner. Then we have to wait until the contractor has time to show up and fix the problem. Meanwhile, there is a colony of ants inhabiting the broadloom in DS#1's bedroom, and the paint is peeling from the walls due to water damage. Neither of these or the other little things on my list of deficiencies is life threatening. It doesn't make the house unlivable, but I can't put curtains up in ds #1's room because the screw holding up the curtain rod rusted through from the water damage. There is no point in putting up artwork or kids photos if it's not painted.
If I hire someone to fix something on my own, like the ant problem, and the carpets get damaged or something untoward happens, technically, I am not responsible. It isn't my name on the lease, but the company becomes responsible and obviously I can't let that happen. If I upgrade the gardens or curtains, it may be adding value to the house, but it's not my value. It's not my house, but it has to be my home for the next 2 - 4 years.
So I am struggling to come to some kind of compromise between my go getter self and the reality of my situation. How do I balance making it a comfortable home for my family without making too many changes to the house. The place will be painted, eventually, when the water damage is fixed. The company had offered to do that before I found the damage, as the walls have nail holes and such from the previous owners. I've even picked out the paint. It will be lovely, someday, sigh.
I waffle back and forth from day to day on decisions like; Do I really want to replace the 8 panels of fully lined orange drapes in the open concept living area or can I live with them? Do I replace the weed field in the backyard and re-sod or seed? Could I live with my environmental self if I followed the advice of the garden service guy and use a broad leaf herbicide to kill all the weeds and give the lawn room to grow?
I've always said that home is where our family of 5 (and dog) is. I must believe that or I never would have agreed to this move. Still, in the end I want to live in a home that I can be proud of, that I can invite family and friends to visit and they will know that it is my home, not just a house that we live in.
It's not my house, but I hope someday (soon) it will feel like my home.
Next Post - Things that I miss and never thought I would. (The B's)
Sunday 5 June 2011
Monkeyland - Part Two
In the last post you met the squirrel monkey, and brown capucian from South and Central America and the Black lemur from Madagascar. There were other primates at Monkeyland and other things that I learned along the way.
Did you know that monkey's, with their prehensile tails, can hold a piece of fruit curled in the end of their tail when their hands are too full? We saw them do it.
Or, that squirrel monkey's use their nimble little fingers to turn over every leaf, stone, or stick to reach the bugs underneath? Even the we little babies knew how to do it.
We learned about the grandfather of Monkeyland. Well, Godfather is probably the better term. He and another male had come to Monkeyland from a European zoo. When his buddy died, leaving him alone, he adopted the squirrel monkey's as his new family. He came to their defense at every need against the bullies of the forest and the visitors who got too close. The squirrel monkey's worshiped him, the others were afraid of him. We were told that he was a bit of a recluse and he certainly made no effort to be easily seen. He was calm, poised, almost stately and he is a Spectacled Langur monkey.
Spectacled langurs are named such because of the white circles around their eyes that resemble spectacles. They are native to Thailand.
We learned that Brown capucian monkeys are kind of trouble makers. As we were watching a black and white ruffed lemur lounging in a tree, a capucian came up underneath him and grabbed his tail in play. It was a strange scene to witness, a lemur and a monkey swinging and screeching through the trees above us. Two species playing together.
Here is a relaxed black and white ruffed lemur before the chase.
In the same part of the sanctuary lived the ring tailed lemurs. Those of you with children who watched TVO or CBC would know Zabu, from Zaboomafoo, is a ringtailed lemur. Lemurs are primates, with divergent digits on their hands and nails (primates have nails not claws), like monkeys, but they don't have prehensile tails, so they can't swing by their tails in the trees. Like the Black lemur, ruffed and ringtailed lemurs come from Madagascar.
Here is our Zabu.
Nearing the end of the guided walk we came to the suspension bridge. Monkeyland claims that the bridge is the longest suspension bridge in Africa at 128m. Here's a view of the family on the way over the bridge.
The last of the free monkey's that we saw on the tour were on the other side of the bridge. They were the Vervet monkey's and the only species in the sanctuary native to South Africa. These are the ones that live around our house. One day a Vervet decided that our neighbours fruit bowl was laid out just for him, so he swung through the open patio door and helped himself. It caused quite a ruckus when their 11 year old daughter found him in the kitchen and started screaming. Anyway, this is what they look like when they aren't raiding the neighbours fruit bowl.
The last monkey's on the tour were in one of the quarantine cages. They were two Howler monkey's who were waiting to be released into the main forest area. It was surprising to see the difference in colour between the male and female when all the other species male and female looked very similar. The guide told us that a Howler monkey call could be heard for almost 5km and that they are native to Central and South America.
This is the male Howler.
Next post - It's not my house.
Did you know that monkey's, with their prehensile tails, can hold a piece of fruit curled in the end of their tail when their hands are too full? We saw them do it.
Or, that squirrel monkey's use their nimble little fingers to turn over every leaf, stone, or stick to reach the bugs underneath? Even the we little babies knew how to do it.
We learned about the grandfather of Monkeyland. Well, Godfather is probably the better term. He and another male had come to Monkeyland from a European zoo. When his buddy died, leaving him alone, he adopted the squirrel monkey's as his new family. He came to their defense at every need against the bullies of the forest and the visitors who got too close. The squirrel monkey's worshiped him, the others were afraid of him. We were told that he was a bit of a recluse and he certainly made no effort to be easily seen. He was calm, poised, almost stately and he is a Spectacled Langur monkey.
Spectacled langurs are named such because of the white circles around their eyes that resemble spectacles. They are native to Thailand.
We learned that Brown capucian monkeys are kind of trouble makers. As we were watching a black and white ruffed lemur lounging in a tree, a capucian came up underneath him and grabbed his tail in play. It was a strange scene to witness, a lemur and a monkey swinging and screeching through the trees above us. Two species playing together.
Here is a relaxed black and white ruffed lemur before the chase.
Here is a black and white ruffed lemur with a capucian on his tail.
Here is our Zabu.
Nearing the end of the guided walk we came to the suspension bridge. Monkeyland claims that the bridge is the longest suspension bridge in Africa at 128m. Here's a view of the family on the way over the bridge.
The last of the free monkey's that we saw on the tour were on the other side of the bridge. They were the Vervet monkey's and the only species in the sanctuary native to South Africa. These are the ones that live around our house. One day a Vervet decided that our neighbours fruit bowl was laid out just for him, so he swung through the open patio door and helped himself. It caused quite a ruckus when their 11 year old daughter found him in the kitchen and started screaming. Anyway, this is what they look like when they aren't raiding the neighbours fruit bowl.
The last monkey's on the tour were in one of the quarantine cages. They were two Howler monkey's who were waiting to be released into the main forest area. It was surprising to see the difference in colour between the male and female when all the other species male and female looked very similar. The guide told us that a Howler monkey call could be heard for almost 5km and that they are native to Central and South America.
This is the male Howler.
This is the female.
After spending an hour with monkeys and lemurs moving freely around us, it was a little sad to see these two in their cage. It helped knowing that they would be released eventually, and it made me glad that Monkeyland was there to allow these amazing primates to roam relatively free.Next post - It's not my house.
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