Books are my friends, Australian Edition

I went to someone's house last weekend. Because I have friends guys! Or, at least, a friend. I was immediately drawn to the bookshelf. This is not new behaviour for me. Its not the most socially savvy habit, but I love looking through people's bookshelves. What struck me this time was not the content of the books, but the fact that they existed. I suddenly found myself both nostalgic and weirdly comforted by the presence of books. Like when you don't realize how much you are missing something until you get to experience it again.

I went home and told Justin that I wanted to buy some books. I have talked about my affection for books before, particularly in the early posts from when I was still back in Canada. I don't really know why they are such a salient feature in my life. Its true I've always been a reader, but there is something about having books nearby that I just find comforting. So later that weekend we headed to a thrift store. In the book section of the local Vinnies (that's what they call the St. Vincent de Paul society thrift stores. Like, that's what's actually on the sign), I became acutely aware that I was engaging in the opposite activity of everything I had been doing ~5 months ago.

In Australia, PhD's take about 3 years (at the 3 years + 6 month mark, your funding runs out). Three years is kind of an awkward amount of time to live somewhere. By the time you are settled and just starting to put down serious roots, its time to go again. I'm very aware that before we come home we will have to get rid of anything we've acquired. That creates this strange situation where you know you need to invest in your living space & environment, but you don't want to spend too much time/money/effort because its all temporary. Books aren't like lamps or cutlery - they aren't things that are super practical, or that I'm using on a daily basis. But they have such an impact on my quality of life, its worth it for me to invest. Plus, as it turns out, the book section of Vinnies is actually pretty good. I ended up with a small stack of 5 or so books (full disclosure: I have read some of them already). They have their own little shelf in our only bookshelf, and things feel even more like home.

In other news, the Canadian T-shirts we ordered came this week! I opted for a shirt with the Halifax Mooseheads logo. Yes, I realize how ridiculous this is, as I don't follow the team, have never been to a game, and don't even really like hockey. But my patriotism in other countries knows no bounds. Go Moose! Justin got a shirt that says 'Out for a rip are ya Bud?'. This is a totally normal saying for Justin. And while I don't know that I have ever used the phrase 'out for a rip' in earnest, obviously it is also near and dear to my heart. I was telling some Australians about Justin's shirt, and just assumed they would understand what 'out for a rip' meant from context. Apparently, they do not. I have had to explain it a few times now, and every time they think its very strange.

At some point in the past week, I finally got up the courage to ask someone if I have an accent. There is this strange cognitive distortion thing happening. I know I sound different than the Australians all around me. But in my mind, I'm still speaking normally, and they are the ones with the accent. Plus neither Justin nor I have any concept of which words in particular we say differently. It feels very strange to think that to them, I am the one with the accent. And when I have attempted to use their phrases or slang (eg. jumper instead of sweater), it feels surprisingly uncomfortable. I always end up worrying they will think I'm making fun of them. There was even a period of time where I convinced myself that maybe they didn't notice I don't have an Australian accent.

So it felt very dumb, but I finally asked my friend if I have an accent. The answer was a resounding yes. My next question was obviously 'is it nice?'. Which was also a yes. So that seems good. Later in the week, Justin & I went out for drinks with the same friend. We were all at a level of inebriation and comfort that things got pretty casual,. I learned that the Canadian accent comes out for most words with 'ou' vowel blends, but 'house' in particular is quite distinct. This is especially true for Justin, who has a much stronger, more east coast accent compared to my more neutral central Canadian one. Every time Justin would say 'house' our friend would laugh & laugh and then repeat it back to us. But here is the thing - Neither Justin nor I can really hear the difference in the way we say house vs how the locals say it. I can still hear the East coast in Justin's speech, but its really hard to figure out how that's different than how the Australian's speak. Its sort of like we are being gaslit by an entire country about something completely inconsequential.

I asked Justin if he had any comments he wanted to include about the accent differences. His response: "Like I always say, you can take the man out of Nova Scotia, but you can't take the Nova Scotia out of the man". Potentially a touch dramatic, but very on brand for Justin.

The only other fun & exciting thing from this week is that birthday presents started showing up at my door! Almost every day this week I have been delighted by amazon deliveries. Unsurprisingly, a steady stream of unexpected gifts makes an average work week way more enjoyable. Thanks to everyone who has sent stuff - I'm really feeling the love over here.