Moving on from my last post on the food I still import from Australia, part of the reason that this list has reduced since I moved to Austria, is because I discovered that some of my essentials could be sourced more locally. So when I head to Italy or the UK, these are the top ten foods that fill my suitcase:
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As the years have ticked by in Austria I have managed to leave many of my Aussie-food-isms behind. Part of the reason for this is that logistically it’s difficult and expensive to ship things from Australia. Another part is that I have adapted to the food here and to what’s available. It’s nice to bring back or receive Aussie food on the odd occasion. But let’s be honest, I don’t need it. I can survive without it. Also being close to the UK means that it’s quite easy to get many of my favourites – or at least acceptable versions of them. But not everything. Here’s the top 10 things I still bring back with me from Oz when I go.
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When you move to a new country there are a lot of questions about where you’re from, and along the way you also discover the weird and wonderful things foreigners believe (or have at least heard) about your country. Here are some of the misconceptions I have heard about Australia since I moved to Austria.
Continue readingSome news stories are serious – and so they should be. However, there’s nothing like injecting a bit of light-heartedness into a world where reporting only seems to get grimmer and grimmer. And since Aussies are known to enjoy taking the piss, both of themselves and others, here’s a few examples of times when they focused on the lighter side of news.
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When I was in year 9, at the tender age of 14/15, I was big into writing, and at the time, I was deep in my horror writing phase. An old friend from high school recently found a story of mine that had been printed in the yearbook, and I found it so disturbing/funny that I thought I’d share.
It was titled ‘I’ll be back’, which is relevant considering where I live now. And it revolved around a 14/15 year old girl babysitting her two year old sister for the first time. This girl was doing all the standard teenage things you do when you’re babysitting – like calling her friends and watching TV… absolutely not checking on the baby and of course… meditating… for an hour. Which perhaps was the problem… because in that hour someone came into the house and surprise surprise… murdered her baby sister.
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“Sometimes homesickness feels like getting stabbed in the chest.”
That’s a direct quote from me. But let me be very clear – I wrote this in a highly emotional moment when I was throwing the dark thoughts out of my head so I could rid myself of them. I’ve also never been stabbed in the chest and in reality, can’t imagine it would feel similar.
What I was referring to is the homesickness surprise attack. Because when I return to Austria after a few weeks in Oz, or when I wave goodbye to my parents at Vienna airport, or when I get off the phone from a friend enjoying their warm summer on the other side of the world, I expect the homesickness. And because I’m expecting it, and I’m ready for it, it doesn’t seem to hit as hard. I can have a cry, I can get a hug from hubby, or I can sniffle a bit and remind myself that this was my decision.
‘Sneak attack’ home sickness is the one that stabs you out of the blue.
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There’s something that happens when someone from Australia comes to visit me in Austria. I’ve observed it myself when other non-Austrians have visitors from their home country. The talking moves quicker, the accent gets thicker and the slang starts rolling out. It’s the same with me. It’s unintentional but almost unavoidable to switch back into Aussie mode.
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One of my great childhood memories were our Saturday porridge mornings. It was Dad’s thing. Every Saturday morning he’d make porridge. Generally he’d prepare and cook it, then head out to buy the paper, and on his return it would be the perfect sloppy consistency, ready to be rewarmed and served.
I’ve since discovered there’s heaps of stuff you can put in porridge, but back then, there was only one way – with sultanas, brown sugar and milk. If we were really lucky, there was cream in the fridge, and a dollop added a little bit of heaven to the morning.
I rebelled in my later years and began adding currents instead of sultanas (crazy, I know), but since moving to Austria, the land without brown sugar and currents (at least in obvious places), I had to adapt. So here’s what I do now:
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It’s one of those things we only dream about… flying first class. I’ve flown business before, with a free miles upgrade, but first was something that was probably never going to transpire. Yet when I flew to Australia recently, that’s exactly what happened.
We’d initially planned for business class. My back would not have survived 24 hours of economy, so booking something that allowed a fully reclinable seat was an imperative for me to even consider the journey.
The jump in price from economy to business is monstrous… the jump to first is still hard to swallow but comparatively not as hard. So we figured, with the extra benefits of first, why not take the leap. And if you’re going to do it, why not do it properly? So with some trepidation about my back, but a little spring in my step, I boarded an Emirates A380 for my 24 hours of luxury. Was it worth it, you ask? Well read on!
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Two years had passed since seeing my friends and family back in Oz… two years since I’d had the searing Aussie sun on my back, since experiencing the feeling of crispy summer-sun-dried grass on the soles of my feet… It’s not an eternity. It’s not impossible to endure. Not when I chose to live so far away.
But it had been a hard two years of lockdowns and back pain and then the joyful but also emotional news of pregnancy. And I yearned with every part of me to get home.
And so eventually, after changing my mind, and changing it back, I did just that.
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an aussie in austria 