They make the world go round...

The Farmer had to say goodbye this week to one of my first real friends in Australia: Speckie left this week with the four rosies for a position in another state.

What makes a friend? Well, one that when you show up all alone having never been in a country before takes you by the local version of a supermarket just so you know what milk looks like. Or one who makes sure the folks they know should get to know you as well. Or something as simple as making sure you have someone to have a pint with when you're sitting in a hotel on a Saturday night.

It's fascinating how in different countries of the world, each culture has dealt with personal relationships with strangers in different ways. Let's examine three of them: the US, England, and Australia.


Everyone knows how making friends with Americans work: Big as all outdoors, hearty, with a its-been-great-meeting-you-my-friend-and-yes-call-on-me-anytime attitude; and yet when you do phone, the number's been changed.

The English? Stoic and cold outside that comes from living in unheated rooms, but inside they are a firestorm of pent-up emotions. This amply evidenced by the fact that Page 3 of The Sun continues to be the most popular form of... ahem... entertainment. But be careful of the British! Once you get past the stoicism they melt all over you.

The most complex of the lot are Australians. Not satisfied with having two personality layers, they have no less than four.

First, the outer blustery layer - the one that will drink with you until the bars close, and stay after the both of you being thrown out into the gutter, falling asleep singing "Swing Low Sweet Chariot". As dawn breaks and you both wake up covered in roo spit, comes the next layer: amnesia. Not that they don't remember you, just they don't care what your shared experience meant. This allows them to drink with you all night, yet brain you at a business meeting the next day. If you do manage to get past this layer you enter the next one: wary acceptance. This may be evidenced by the use of the phrase "no worries, mate" and have them actually mean it. And finally we have the soppy emotional core. The place where even if you were on fire they'd put you out with their last pint of James Boag. That's when you know you're a true mate.

Yes I owe Speckie a lot, I reckon. And if he's reading this, let it be known that you are the best kind of human being. The best kind of Australian. And you will be missed.

- Farmer Ted

Does this mean I'm becoming Aussie?

I've been accused of trying to "be Aussie." Which every American knows, being told you're trying to pass in another country is probably one of the most anti-American words that can be uttered about an American.

What my Aussie friends don't realize is that after several months of being in this country, there are some battles I have chosen to just wave the white flag on. So here are three examples of Aussie vs US personal capitulations:

"tomato sauce" versus "ketchup" - Every Aussie claims they know of no such thing as ketchup, yet one stroll down the aisle of a neighborhood Woolies will show Heinz Ketchup with it's cheerful Pennsylvania keystone-shaped white label with green & gold-edging (that's right! For my Aussie friends reading this, the Heinz family hails from the Farmer Ted Porch state) clearly spelling out the fallicy of their assertion. But yet I have given in to not just saying tomato sauce but pronouncing the first word "tow-MAH-tow" else you get a blank stare of incomprehension. What could I do - I gave up.

"petrol" versus "gas" - I've taken use of petrol for defensive reasons. Here, it seems "gas" only refers to natural, LP, or pull-my-finger. So you would think that hearing me say, "I have to go put gas in the car" would immediately cause a connection to the American usage. Not so! While we think, "Yeah, so what's the confusion?" here there are stations where you CAN put LP gas into a vehicle for fuel. Sorry, there is no use commercial for the kind dad gives after a big meal.

"zed" versus "zee"- This is an honorable mention because I've only half given in on this one: I use the Aussie pronunciation when it's part of a proper name - like the bank, ANZ. I've found that when I would say "ay. en. zee" a listener's eyes would glaze over as they creaked through the "Oy! Uh. Why does that sound so familiar. Hmmm." So to cut that drama, I just say "ay. en. zed." Can you blame me?

So why do I give up these skirmishes? Not because I wanted to but rather to avoid an international incident. One more Australian who to my innocent query of "Do you have ketchup?" responds with malice "Do we have what, mate?" will get a punch in the mouth.

And that's just not the way to assimilate.

- Farmer Ted

Looking...

A couple who are close friends just had a baby. A little boy.

Your host does have a weak spot for three life occasions: Weddings, births, and a reasonable decision by government. Of these, I think births are probably the most poignant.

To me, each birth is a possibility that maybe, just maybe this little person has the answers leading us to some new sort of way in this old tired world. A way closer to what the reasonable among us are hoping for (and the guy writing "5 Pairs" seems to be finding): Good will among men. Appreciation of differences in each of us. And most importantly, peace between us all.

So I look at the face of each baby I see or think about the ones I hear about and wonder, "Are you the one who will bring about what we need?"

Guess all I'm really looking for, is hope.

- Farmer Ted

Observing the Aussies: Cricket...

I love cricket.

There's no other way to say it. When I first arrived, I was like the 299,999,999 out of 300 million Americans with no idea what cricket was other than that everyone wore white, hit a ball for some inexplicable reason, and the game itself appeared to be named after a rather annoying insect.

But that was before I returned this last time while the Ashes Test were going on and Australia was simply wild about cricket. So much so that as each match was played it would be up live on TV's, wide screens, and PC monitors everywhere. It was at that point my Aussie hosts decided I would learn what this game is about.


Now I know what my fellow Americans are thinking "Are you kiddin' me? It just doesn't make logical sense!" One thing to realize is that there are 23 rules to the game that make no logical sense. They are what they are, having been that way since some olde England gentleman tripped over a large chunk of wood, hit his head on a croquet ball and said "Foresooth, me thinkest yon wood and yon ball can be made a game of the ages!" followed by a stream of olde profanity at the knot on his forehead.

Believe it or not, there are two websites that my Aussie mates gave me that helped me to understand this game. The first one is a succinct description of the 42 rules. They are not that difficult so just read 'em and take'em at face value. Don't bother to question why.

The second one is how the game is actually played. Very important since rules can be interpreted in many ways, right? So like the 42 rules, you just accept 'em.

You're all set! Now find a cricket match on TV or the web and just watch it. Suddenly you'll see that not only does it make sense, but it's actually a pretty good game. Oh yeah, it also helps to have someone you can shoot a question to now and again.

But when I was in a pub watching a Test match and something happened on-screen where I yelled "WHAZZZAAAT!!!" along with the whole bar?

Psh. I was in.

- Farmer Ted