This morning, I actually had to count up the days we had been here because I was positive we'd been here for way more than a month, only to figure out it had been barely over three weeks! Time has gone fast...and slow. I am getting used to driving on the left hand side of the road, even finding US-based TV shows that show RH driving to be a little freaky. That is, of course, until I again hit the #$%#$ windshield wipers rather than the turn signal and realize that I am still such...a rookie.
Aussie phrases of the week:
..."like a pork chop." Used in sentences in such contexts as: "You were dancing like a pork chop." When I asked what that meant, I was told that pork chops, as a meat product, tend to sizzle more in the pan, so it basically was a way of saying that you were really fussed or upset or obsessed by something.
"In the purple" = "in the zone."
Kerfluffle = Dust-up or altercation or at least confusion (I think)
Homefront news: it was a big week for all of us, and another time of shock and awe as we transitioned from pseudo tourists/house hunters into gainfully employed inhabitants (at least Mika and KP) : ) Dan is dutifully assuming the role of house-husband/domestic god/caretaker of the 1000+ details yet to be ironed out as we assume status as bona fide residents and not just furnished-apartment wannabes.
Mika's transition to student was (and continues to be) a work in progress. Unlike her parents, she was underwhelmed by her acceptance into one of our two schools of choice. Her first reaction during the initial school tour was that the school was old and it stank. The smell part I couldn't confirm, but in the old part she is correct. Telopea Park School is the oldest in the Australian Capital Territory and was designed by the same architect who created the old parliament house (affectionately known by locals as the "wedding cake" but I digress). Interestingly, Telopea Park School is half-funded by the French government (don't ask me why) so up to 6th grade, students have to speak French as it is exclusively spoken in half the classes. Seventh grade and up, there is both an English and French stream which is why we were hoping Mika would be bumped up to seventh grade.
As part of Telopea's curriculum, all students have to take a language class. Mika, by virtue of her last-minute enrollment, got her last choice of languages: Indonesian. On the one hand, I empathize with her disappointment. On the other I am secretly gleeful. Indonesian. A whole part of the world we all could stand to learn so much more about! She will also (obviously) be learning about Australian geography. I think Dan and I will be reading her textbooks as much as she will be. We have a lot to catch up on.
By Monday, the first day of school, Mika had resigned herself to her fate and stoically rose to the challenge. Upon our entrance onto school grounds, I could tell she was checking out the scene and assessing her relative appropriateness. Off came the hoodie she'd been wearing and she increased her distance from me. I captured this paparazzi photo (no posed "first day of school" shots this year):
We were ushered into the school auditorium for the "first day of school" introduction (parents were on the right side, students on the left). It was hard to watch Mika leave my side and literally find her own way to a seat all by herself.
Really, it was a shock to all of us...another transition bigger than I at least thought it would be--after all, we'd been here for several weeks already. Mika really struggled those first couple days, keeping to herself until one night when she finally broke down and let me know how sad and upset she really was about this ordeal. I will say that it was wonderful for me for her to turn and hug me fiercely, finally letting me in, even if it was just for a little while. Every adult I talk to about this echoes our own thoughts that it's just a process that will take some time to get through, that she will make friends and eventually settle in just fine, but boy does my heart go out to her in the meantime. She really has the hardest job of all of us right now.
Meanwhile, I had my own transition issues, hitting work for my first full-time week. I work for the Australian Institute of Sport (AIS), which is a subset of the Australian Sport Commission, the part of the Australian government responsible for sport and physical activity. The AIS focuses on elite sport including but not limited to Olympic sport (hello cricket and netball!). The main AIS complex is in Canberra and is much larger than the Olympic Training Center in Colorado Springs. There are several sports based in Canberra, but like the US, most sports are in other places as well. I head up the Performance Psychology Discipline for the AIS which means I oversee our staff of full and part-time psychologists and basically am charged with directing activity to make sure that we are appropriately meeting the psychological and mental training needs of our elite athletes and coaches. (Do you like how I worked in the word "our"? I have had to work on disassociating myself from my affiliation with the US and remembering who I work for now!)
My week has been spent figuring out emailing, phone system, learning names, wondering how I will ever learn it all, getting tutored on the psych staff's very fancy espresso machine (blowing away my assumption that I would have to drink tea here at work), strategizing, attending meetings, learning budget management, reading research proposals...I have needed a nap every evening as soon as I get home.
The week was topped off by a last-minute plea from AIS higher ups to "go up to the Hill" as part of an invite to present to an Australian Senate subcommittee (health and aging) on the topic of youth suicide prevention. Apparently this is part and parcel of working for the government, that we are pressed into, well, helping the government! It is without shame that I admit that I was practically the last person to be asked, but several more suitable candidates were unable to attend. My initial reaction was to find someone--anyone!--to go in my stead...what did I know about Australian anti-suicide efforts? I finally agreed to go figuring what the hell--what a cool thing and who could be that mad at the oblivious newly-arrived American? So I dressed up and found my way to the *new* (aka not wedding cake) parliament house--a spectacular structure crowning the hill of the government circle, met my boss there, was issued the visitor pass, and ushered to a room fitted with miked table and recording studio. Me and about 15 others deemed expert enough to answer questions of senate committee members. All in all, it was a great experience. I was able to contribute to a discussion of how sport and exercise involvement can act as a buffer for depression, and was asked more questions than even I thought appropriate, but realized that some committee members were just really interested in sport! I was impressed at how well prepared the committee members were, asking thoughtful questions of the assembled psychologists and suicide prevention agency folks in attendance.
Tonight is our last night at the serviced apartment. Feeling a tad nostalgic prior to our move to the house tomorrow, here are some pictures.
LR/DR:
Mika in her favorite Ipad reading pose on the couch:
KP playing house in the kitchen:
Mika and KP livin' it up in the living room:
Yes, we are the Slackers...
This weekend: The Big Move and Mika finds a soccer team (we hope!) Cheers!!
