Out to Lunch

The kids and I have been feeling incredibly cooped up in the house. Every day this week, there has been at least one of us who has felt too icky to do anything. We spent the entire week at home in pajamas. We played Legos, hangman, Spot It and everything else we brought with us. The kids were bored, and despite Oo feeling the sickest out of all us on Friday, it didn't stop her from picking on Tru. And it didn't cause Tru to take pity and not fight back.

All the bickering was driving me batty, so I made up my mind to take us out for lunch. I found a restaurant nearby that offers vegan options (which means dairy-free choices for Oo and I) and told the kids the plan. Both whined about going anywhere, but I stood my ground. Sure, we all felt like laying low at home, but getting out would do us a world of good. To stop the whining, I let the kids choose how we got to the restaurant: take the bus or the rental car.

They both chose the bus. And they don't like riding the bus.

They don't have any confidence in my driving here. But their hesitation does not come from experience. I've never driven in Australia with them in the car. Maybe they've picked up my extreme nervousness about driving in this city.

To help me get over my fears, we had a driving instructor take me driving last Saturday. It was fantastic! I did WAY better on the left side of the road (and the right side of the car) than I thought I would. And I only drove on the wrong side of the road ONCE. (Yikes!) The decision to hire an instructor came from a recommendation by our relocation agent. Even though I had seen the roads here during my visit in April, I had forgotten how hilly and winding they are. It's like being on a roller coaster! Up steep hills, then back down again. Sharp turns and lots of roundabouts. In our part of town there's nary a flat, straight stretch of road to be found.

The driving lesson gave me a lot of confidence, and so on Sunday we picked up a rental car for me. Here I am driving home from the rental shop. (Don't panic; I took the pic at a red light.) My two most common mistakes I make in Oz are 1) reaching over the wrong shoulder when I go to put my seat belt on, and 2) turning on my wiper blades when I mean to use the turn signal.

Despite my new confidence, the kids still insisted on taking the bus on Friday. We walked to the bus stop near our house and waited a few minutes. The bus we needed stops there every 15 minutes. A bus came by, but we didn't get on. The number on the bus wasn't the number that I was looking for. But as the bus pulled away, I realized that on this particular bus route, the numbers on the bus don't matter. All that matters is that the bus is maroon-colored. Ugh!

Not in the mood for more whining from the kids (I took us to the wrong bus stop last week and they're still talking about it), I walked us home, piled us all into the car, and drove to the restaurant.

The restaurant is less than a mile and a half from our house, so I wasn't too nervous about driving. I reminded the kids to keep quiet (so that I could maintain focus), plugged the address into the GPS, and off we went. All was going smoothly until I took a wrong turn. The GPS gives distance in terms of meters, and my brain just doesn't think in metrics yet. So when the GPS told me to "turn right in 100 meters," I sailed right past the street I needed. The GPS recalculated our route, but now the new route involved driving up a long, narrow street... that was a very steep grade... with cars parked on both sides. Oy! As I slalomed my way up the hill, zigzagging to avoid the parked cars while the car's engine strained with the climb, I could practically feel the kids stiffen with fear.

But we made it to the restaurant! As I backed in to the parking spot, I turned all the way around to get a better view of the back end of my car. That's when I saw Oo clutching onto the car door with both hands. Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence, kid.

The restaurant was a converted old house. The decor was kitschy and fun. I told the kids to find a seat on the patio while I ordered at the counter. They walked through the restaurant, but soon came back and stood beside me. Apparently the patio had a sign that said, "Unattended children will be given espresso and a free kitten." (I'm so glad my kids can read!) A moment later, I saw a lightbulb go off over Oo's head, and she tried to sneak back to the patio. Nice try!

One thing we've found is that we're not always going to get what we're picturing when ordering food in Australia. There are minor differences that can really throw you for a loop — especially when your kids are fussy eaters. Take for instance, lemonade. Lemonade in Australia is usually a carbonated beverage. Oo LOVES the carbonated version. Tru, on the other hand, thinks that carbonated drinks are "spicy," so he refuses to try even a sip.

With Oo's tummy all topsy-turvy, I let her order whatever sounded good to her. She chose the waffles with strawberries and honey. I had an amazing roast beef sandwich with watercress and pesto mustard, and we ordered melted cheesy toast from the kids menu for Tru. When you see "melted cheesy toast" you're probably thinking what we were thinking: grilled cheese, right? Not exactly. He was served strips of open-face grilled cheese, but there was an unexpected extra ingredient. An ingredient that perhaps Australians assume will be included, but for us it was a total shocker: Vegemite!!

Tru took one look at the dark spread under the melted cheese, and asked with a subtle hint of disgust, "Uh, what's that brown stuff?" Hoping it was Nutella but pretty sure it wasn't, I took a little taste. It wasn't as bitter as I had heard; instead it was very salty. I definitely couldn't pass it off to him as Nutella. Knowing my picky eater, I needed to put a creative spin on this. I used my college degree (marketing), carefully considered my target audience (picky eater), and then I took a totally different route: I out-and-out lied. I told him it was brown cheese.

I could see the wheels spinning in his mind. He likes cheese. Sure "brown cheese" sounds weird, but it's cheese, right? If it's cheese, it can't be too bad. He took a bite. And then another. I was in total disbelief. If he proceeded to consume these Vegemite sandwiches, this may be my greatest achievement yet in Creative Food Renaming for Fussy Eaters, even better than the three years I was able to get Oo to eat potato soup simply by calling it "White Square Soup."

And then the taste of Vegemite grew stronger in his mouth. He whimpered in disappointment and squirmed around in his chair, probably contemplating whether or not to skip lunch and go hungry. After a few minutes he picked off all the cheese and just ate that. Ha! Even though the Vegemite taste wasn't so bad, it is strong. I can't say that I wouldn't have done the same.

A New Home, A New Blog

I'm so happy to finally kick off this blog that I've been talking about for MONTHS! This blog will be my main format for sharing my family's Australian experiences and for keeping our family and friends informed of our well-being.

For this first post, I want to explain the blog's name: The Land of Double O.

When Adrian and I first learned that moving to Australia was a possibility for us, I turned to the Internet and began Googling anything I could to learn about the place. One thing that struck me almost immediately was the number of cities/suburbs in the area that contained a double o. You see, I'm kind of partial to double o's. It's what drew me to choosing Oo's unique name. And perhaps it's that "oo" sound that led me to choosing Tru's name as well.

Look at a map of the Brisbane area, and you will find places like Toowong, Mt. Coot-tha, Kangaroo Point, and Coopers Plains. But what will most likely catch your eye are the places with DOUBLE-double-o's, like Indooroopilly, Coorparoo, Wooloowin, and Woolloongabba. They're all so much fun to say, even if I am pronouncing them incorrectly most of the time. For example, the Aussies pronounce Indooroopilly as "IN-droh-pill-eh," which is no where near as fun as saying "in-door-OO-pill-EE."

In part of our sales pitch to the kids about moving here, I told Oo about how we were moving to "the land of double o's." Naturally, she's kind of partial to double o's herself. When I seriously thought about that as the name for this blog, I did a quick search online to see if there were other blogs out there with the same name. I also did what any paranoid, out-of-touch-with-pop-culture mom would do: I checked the Urban Dictionary to make sure it didn't have some filthy meaning that I wasn't aware of. To my surprise and delight, this is what the Urban Dictionary had to say:

So there you have it. And a new blog is born.