When I am on holiday, shopping at a common grocery store in a foreign country is a great adventure and a fun experiment; but when I began my life as an American expat in Australia, shopping at a common grocery store was like facing a fire-breathing, three-headed monster that stood between me and feeding my family. I couldn't find things I knew must be there like baking soda, cocoa, and creamed cheese, while other (apparently American) items such as cornmeal and crisco are mysteriously "mislabeled." Walking in and looking at all the unfamiliar products and brand names overwhelmed me, and the task of grocery shopping, which I had once enjoyed, became daunting and discouraging. I felt like the three-headed, fire-breathing monster of grocery shopping might consume me, that is, until I met Sarah.
I was sitting in a pew at our new church in Sydney when Sarah found me before the service. I was carrying the weight of my own cultural and practical ignorance, and feeling strange and alone and foreign. Sarah perkily introduced herself and said, "Oh, my friend Nerida (mutual friend that I had met in Austin) sent me an email about you. I have been waiting to meet you! If you need anything, please give me a call. I'm on maternity leave for three more months, and I'd be glad to help you in any way I can." Her introduction and friendliness breathed hope over me, hope that I would have a friend, and hope that there would be at least one Australian that would help me if I needed it.
By nature and practice, I am very straightforward and terribly honest. When I lived in Texas, I often felt immersed the confusion of Southern "politeness," and I regularly had trouble discerning what people meant by what they said. When I arrived in Sydney, our pastor's wife Susan gave me a short tutorial on Aussie cultural communication, "Australians are very straightforward and up-front. They tend to mean what they say, and say what they mean." By my American-who-lives-in-the-South communication decoding key, Sarah was glad to meet me, but might not really be interested in helping me with a mundane task like grocery shopping. By Susan's Aussie decoding key, Sarah really did mean that I could call her and ask for help. The question about which decoding key to use paralyzed me for a couple of days. Finally, after searching the grocery store on four different trips for cocoa and being at a loss as to what to pack in my children's peanut-free school lunches, I decided to use Susan's key on Sarah's introduction and offer, and I risked calling to ask Sarah for help.
In Sydney, every day, the shops close by about five so that everyone can go home to their families. On Thursday, however, shops stay open until the very late hour of nine o'clock; and many people shop on Thursday nights for the week's groceries. Sarah first shopped with me on a Thursday night in February. She willingly braved my terrible driving and helped me find the mall that contained all the stores I sought (In Oz, grocery stores are also at malls with all the other shops). Sarah tutored me on products and brand names. She helped me find foods that would suit our tight budget, and shared delicious recipes for things I had never cooked before, like roasted shoulder of lamb. She showed me what to buy at the grocery store, the butcher, and the fruit and veg shop. While we shopped, we talked about babies and sleep, post-partum depression, husbands, and our mums and dads. We both came home refreshed as new but true friends, and with all our week's shopping done. We had such a great time that night, that Sarah's husband Dave and my husband Greg thought it would be good for us to go every week.
So, nearly every week on Thursdays, for the time we lived in Sydney, Sarah and I headed out on the everyday adventure of food and friendship. If you looked at us on paper, we might not have made good friends. Sarah has an important job as a risk manager at a major bank in one of the world's most metropolitan cities. I am a displaced Texan homemaker. But week by week, we found common ground in our faith, in our love for our families, and in our appreciation of new experiences. I could ask Sarah any questions about my new homeland without her making me feel silly, and she loved sharing in all my new discoveries. We shared our histories and dreamed about our futures, and neither of us was threatened by the strengths of the other.
You see, when you face a three-headed, fire-breathing monster of any kind, even if the monster is only a supermarket, having a friend with you makes the difference between triumph and defeat. When I was overwhelmed and sad and lonely, a strong new friend found me. Sarah kindly carried me until I found my equilibrium in Australia. I don't think Sarah ever knew it, but she single-handedly slew the very first threatening monster I encountered in Oz as she bravely held out the hope of her friendship while guiding me through the supermarket.
No comments:
Post a Comment