About Me

Perth, WA, Australia
Hi friends. To those I have met in person and the many I haven't - welcome to our nest. Thanks so much for stopping by. I am a mama of six baby birds and wife to one papa bird. Our nest is an intricately woven home, crafted over time, through the highs and lows of life, and many in-betweens. We are soon to leave our Australian nest to re-locate to our second home, the UK. This is our story, of our new life in a new country, the trials and tribulations, bidding goodbye to precious friends and embracing new. I know at times, our wings will be flapping so hard to keep us moving forward that we will tire, however, a little perseverence will bring effortless gliding amongst a soft breeze, and even stronger wings for the journey ahead. Welcome to our flight......

Tuesday, 25 January 2011

Parades of People

So when I was away on my super, fab holiday, I noticed a few things about human behaviour. And since I had all the time in the world on my hands, I did quite a lot of people observing.

This is what I discovered:
In some cultures it is acceptable to expel wind in public, indeed it is a sign of gratitude for the meal that has just been partaken of. A good pick of the nose after said meal is also completely understandable and the clearing of ones throat, hawking excess mucus, is both refreshing and healthy. Burping loudly is a sign of clearing the pipes and aiding in digestion. Indeed, the louder the better and if in front of another's face, not to worry because re-digested burp gas can be quite benefficial.

Then there is food, which was a constant source of amusement at the buffet breakfast table. Some enjoyed salad and fish and noodles which to me, smelt like my babies bottoms in the morning. However, judging from the way they devoured their plates, I can assure you it wasn't the case for them. Others would eat only sweet treats in the form of muffins, pastries, sweet breads etc, piling their plates as high as the Eiffel Tower, only to be seen later surreptitiously shoving them into bags, up shirts or down their short pockets, for a bit of noshing later in the day.

Now the 'egg station' as it is called, is very popular. And the cooks do a great job with the humble cracker. Poached, fried, omletted, in it's shell, sunny-side, well-done, you name it, you got it. I stopped myself asking whether the producers of the eggs were forced to lay under lights and batteries or free to roam in the lush greenery of the country. I suspect the former, but didn't dwell on it. They still tasted great.

And then there is all the different ways people dress, how they fix their hair, what shoes they put with their clothes. Some looked as though they should have a big 'indecent sign' on their backs. Seriously, a sheer flowing top, just touching the butt line, teamed with a black bra and black g-string whilst walking through a shopping centre, is well, kind of gross.

All shades and manner of hair was noted as well. Some great blonde's and some truly bad and awful colours as well. And apparently, to mix streaks of red, blonde and brunette all on the one head is 'the bomb'. Kind of looked like a bomb to me but enough people paraded this style about, so maybe there is something in it.

And of course, there is the difference in all of the world's languages. I patriotically expect every word to be spoken in English which of course is not the case, but I am always surprised when other foreign words are spoken so fluently from mouths where I expect Enlgish to be shared. I would so love to be able to converse in their native language but I could only sit and listen and try to guess what the conversation was all about. A lot of hand flapping and stamping of feet plus raised voices usually signalled to me that there was a slight bit of tension and maybe I should religate my position and move on.

The most surprising watch take would have to be around the pool. All manner of shapes and sizes were squeezed into itty-bitty swimming costumes. There were some buffed and polished bodies - tanned and toned. Others were more the colour of jelly-fish with the same sort of bodily wibbles and wobbles. Some took up only inches of the pool seat whilst others spilt out all over the seat and some of the ground. Fascinating stuff.

Still, now I am home and my 'holiday hobby' has come to an end. Most speak English in our neighbourhood and I am not privy to poolside attire or share my breakfast with a crush of others.

I think I will have to brush up on my German or French and have a go at talking to these mysterious, fascinating other races. I am sure I could learn a lot.

One thing I can assure you of though, you will never see me walking around Myer in a sheer caftan and black g-string. Promise!

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