At a birthday party I saw a guy drinking my favorite beer, a Sassy Red. I pointed and gave him an encouraging and approving nod of the head, and he said, “I know, right? It’s a great beer.”
“It’s one of my favorites,” I said.
“I know, right? Can you believe a girl saw it tonight and called it a sissy red?”
“She did? Why’d she do that?”
“Because she’s a bitch.”
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I met an American from Chicago this week, and we talked about the city and the experiences of moving to New Zealand. She said, “After telling someone I’m from Chicago, I hate when they say ‘from one windy city to another’ or something else about the wind.”
20 minutes later we were standing in a circle, with strangers. Someone asks her, “So where in the states are you from?”
“Chicago,” she said.
“From one windy city to another, eh?”
If you’re moving to Wellington from Chicago, expect a lot of wind talk. Whether you like it or not, it’s where our cultures try to connect.
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Next Friday I’m flying to Chicago for a seven week holiday. If any of my kiwi friends want something from America, let me know. I have a large suitcase.
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Categories:american-ism, jeffrey-ism, kiwi-ism, life, memory, patriotism
For the past few weeks I’ve been in Hawai’i, on the beach, usually watching surfers. Tough life.
I could only watch the surfers because I’m just a beginner. Those waves look small but they’re easily 12 feet high. I saw a man’s surfboard snap it half.
Some other remarkable memories from my three week vacation:
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a street peddler attempted to sell me tickets to a shooting range where I could fire “real guns”
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a customs official asked if I brought marmite. I asked if it was illegal, and she said, “No, I just don’t like the stuff. Yuck.”
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some Hawaiians are fat. Bigger than midwestern fat. I think their island genes compound the fatty foods
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a stranger gave me a lift, and I asked him what to see in O’ahu. He said, “I don’t know. I usually drink with my friends. It’s safer that way.” I didn’t ask
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my parents and I saw lava flow into the ocean at Volcano National Park
I mostly slept in the sun. It was so warm…
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Categories:american-ism, jeffrey-ism, memory, patriotism
This year I was invited to Thanksgiving dinner at Craig and Catherine’s home. This was the menu, taken from Catherine’s blog:
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Thanksgiving Dinner 2008
Toasted Le Moulin baguette with:
Cream cheese & caramelised onions
Roast turkey with wild rice & cranberry stuffing
Kumara & orange gratin
Coleslaw
Apple pie & cream
Christmas fruit mince pie
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Catherine made everything from scratch, even the coleslaw! Here’s a photo of my adopted family in Wellington. Catherine (the chef) and Craig (the sous-chef) are on the right:
And here we are at the end of dinner, waiting for dessert:
So good! It reminded me of dutch apple pie, without the cinnamon.
Thank you so much C & C, it was superb!
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Categories:american-ism, jeffrey-ism, kiwi-ism, life, memory, patriotism
After the American float passed in the street parade for the Wellington Sevens:1
“I didn’t cheer for the Yanks,” man number one said.
“I have a shirt that says the US bombs the world. I should have worn that,” man number two said.
Yea, as if the rugby players care. And that shirt is uninformative and lame. Where’s the wit?
1. A rugby tournament between 16 countries
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Categories:american-ism, catcher, jeffrey-ism, patriotism
This is worth a look: Shorpy.
“Shorpy is a blog about old photos and what life a hundred years ago was like: How people looked and what they did for a living.”
The past looks so poor.
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Categories:american-ism, patriotism