Easter Traditions

Our Easter tradition-for now

They say with kids that if you celebrate the same holiday the same way twice, it’s a tradition. With boat kids, and a nomadic lifestyle, doing anything the same way twice is a feat. And doing it three times is unheard of.

Before we left we tried to streamline our core holiday traditions so that they’d be easy to replicate anywhere. What we never took into account is just how unpredictable ‘anywhere’ can be. Seasonal holidays don’t work that well for distance sailors. For one—our seasons tend to by ruled by cyclone and hurricane seasons—which is why many an Easter and Christmas are spent at sea. And if you travel far enough, the seasons are upside down: favourite dishes aren’t as tasty in the heat (if you can even find the ingredients) and even hiding Easter eggs is a challenge in high temperatures (sandy, melted chocolate anyone?)

 

Ceildyh and Mangoe -- anchored together again after 17 years

This year though was our third Easter spent out in the islands of Moreton Bay. Each year the effort has become more casual—the first included a big land-based Easter egg hunt and fancy dinner (bless power boats with air con). Last year we moved the Easter egg hunt to Ceilydh’s foredeck and timed our dinner with Convivia to coincide with a big-as thunder squall.

This year, with a busy schedule leading up to Easter, I was happy to throw a few chocolate eggs and groceries into the boat before heading head out. And after an evening of catching up with our friends on SV Mangoe (little SV Ceilydh and Mangoe were last together in the La Cruz anchorage in 1997—how cool is that?) the kids all curled up to sleep in the nets and the Easter Bunny made an appearance sometime before dawn.

 

watch out Easter Bunny

Some time after the Easter Bunny arrived, but before the kids woke, Charlie the cat realized we had been boarded and was concerned for the kids. So the brave kitty attacked Maia’s treats and knocked them overboard. I think this could make a cool Easter tradition but Maia disagreed. Fortunately I had chocolate eggs on hand for our now tradtional foredeck hunt.

Hunting for eggs--before they melt

See those pink spots? Those are the kids...

 Then after a day of snorkeling and sandsurfing—we convened on the foredeck and celebrated Easter supper with a not so traditional meal of home made carnitas and pakoras.

The Great Pumpkin in Oz

If you asked Maia, she’d tell you Halloween is the hardest holiday to be away from home for. It’s the one night of the year (plus the week or two leading up to it) where you can delve into your imagination and become anything you like. Then, with your alternate persona firmly in place, you head out into the spooky streets en mass and find what’s out there beyond your normal boundaries. The discoveries are quite splendid: I recall learning things like where that cute boy at school lived, that a favourite teacher had just moved down the road (and she had a husband!), and that the forbidding lady on the corner was actually really nice.

 

The first pumpkin the kids had ever carved.

Last year's pumpkin came with a safety briefing.This year we got printed directions.

Here, Halloween isn’t quite like that. The celebration is occurring, but on a smaller level, despite Aussies holding a few misconceptions about the day. The belief that it’s an American day of excess and commercialization, which is rooted in evil and gore, is hard to shake. And it’s kind of hard to sell an evening where kids dress in black and go begging lollies off strangers.

 

Getting ready is the same in any country.

It’s not surprising, I guess. If my only exposure to Halloween was through movies and TV I’d know nothing of the feeling of the holiday. It’s kind of hard to describe to people what’s it’s like to take to the streets of your neighbourhood in disguise; the excitement of passing each other in the dark, trying to sort out who you’re seeing while being disoriented by fireworks and scary displays; the fun of being warmly welcomed by neighbours you normally only see at a distance and getting to peak in through their front doors…

 

Memories of home.

An effort to bring the fun here: witches fingers and a pumpkin cheese ball.

So for my Aussie friends who asked: Halloween’s roots are found in the Gaelic harvest festival of Samhaim and the Christian festival of All Hallow’s Eve. The traditions, like everything in North America, are a mash-up of cultures and ideas (Maia used to get treats that ran the gamut from Japanese rice sweets, to Turkish delights to Latin American sugared skulls). Trick-or-treating is reminiscent of souling (where kids went door to door for soul cakes) and the symbols (carved pumpkins, apples, spooky skeletons) reflect the season’s transition to the darker months of the year. After that, it’s refining the details. Costumes can be spooky or aspirational (Halloween isn’t a theme…) and the more creative the better. Socializing is important but spending a fortune is not.

Our Halloweens in Oz have been spoockacularly charming small-scale versions of the holiday at home. The stores aren’t filled with elaborate costumes (they’re overflowing with Christmas stuff instead…) so most kids wear simple DIY efforts. Pumpkins are imported and very expensive, so decorations are DIY as well. Urban myths of poisoned Halloween treats (which never actually happened) have never reached Oz, so kids happily accept unwrapped lollies, or eat a chunk of chocolate offered at the door (less plastic waste). And because only a handful of people participate—the kids do a lot of walking to earn their treats.

But the feeling? It turns out that’s the same. The kids dress too soon and then jitter with anticipation while they wait for it to get dark so they can head out. And once they’re out it’s just pure fun.

Our 1st Ozziversary—things we love about Brisbane

We just celebrated our first Ozziversary on November 15. It was one of those milestones that snuck up on us—it seemed so recently we were immersed in trying to find the hardware store, grocery store, nearest good beach then suddenly I had the answer when strangers asked for directions or tourists asked for ideas about what to do. I know where Albert Street is, I can suggest good ways to spend an afternoon. I actually know what people are saying to me now…

Time flew past while we were caught up with our own routine, but as this season’s boats were wrapping up their Pacific crossings, new cruisers were heading off to Mexico and those ahead of us are exploring PNG, SE Asia or closing in on Africa, and it became impossible not to acknowledge the fact we’ve been here for a whole year.

the jacaranda tree near our boat--my new favourite tree

When you’re used to moving all the time (Maia spent the past five Halloweens in five different countries) staying in one place for an entire a year of seasons feels a bit strange. The surprise of the jacarandas blooming has given way to the expectation the flying foxes will return, and the mild sunny spring days are starting to grow humid, with thunder and lightening storms arriving to cool them off—a sure sign our tropical summer is just around the corner.

Being in a place for a year though also means we’ve developed a bit of a list: things that are good, things that are bad and things that just confuse the heck out of us. But because this is a celebratory post I’ll stick with the good. So in no particular order—here are some of the things we love about Oz:

it's easy to gather friends when parks come with BBQs and shelters

BBQ’s—Almost every park has them. Free electric or wood BBQ’s where you can sizzle your sausages while enjoying lunch at a nearby picnic table. Early on we learned the etiquette. If the barbie is busy queue up your meat and enjoy a bevvie while you while away the arvo waiting your turn.

Bubblers—Forgot your water bottle but refuse to buy bottled water? No worries mate. There are bubblers (water fountains) almost on every corner (and even on a few hiking trails).

City Ferries—We love the public transit system here and the free city hopper ferries are a great bonus. They are slow, and don’t run that frequently but they work for some trips and they are fantastic entertainment.

can you spot the koala?

not a crime scene--this is known as a bloodwood tree, I think...

Flora and Fauna—This is a country full of fantastical creatures and weird plants straight out of a nursery rhyme. The other day a wild kangaroo came up to us in the park mooching for food. A kangaroo! And last weekend we saw our first wild koalas. Seriously, that never gets old.

this is a chook, not a chicken. honest.

 The Lingo—So I’m pretty sure we understand most of what people say to us now. Occasionally I’m still stumped—but now when someone tells me to rug up or suggests we wag off I don’t assume the worst.

Australia Day--just one of the 365 things people in Brisbane appear to celebrate...

Fun, fun, fun—There’s a celebration for that. Could be our city, could be Oz, but there is a festival on right now. And there was one last weekend. And there will be one next weekend. I'll reckon that whenever you read this there will be a festival on.

Public art, parks and spaces—Brisbane prides itself on the amount of public art that’s around the city—in fact it has policies which require new buildings to provide a certain amount of public art or public space. The city also has heaps of parks, pathways and trails—this means we don’t need to leave the city even to find new places to explore. And the playgrounds... Oh, to be a kid.

Farmers Markets—I love markets—especially ones I can walk or dinghy to. And happily we have several excellent options every week. Our favourites are Saturday morning in the West End—a 10 minute dinghy ride away. Or Wednesday afternoon in library square. Cheap, fresh & local. Mmmmm.

 

The Beaches--Could go on and on and inlcude the hunderds of pics we have but I'll just say the water is warm, the sand is soft, the colours shift through a rainbow of blues and green, and Austraila has 11,761 of them. We're working on finding our favourite.

The Melbourne Cup

Melbourne Cup spirit at Maia's school

 Ever wondered about the difference between on the wag, chucking a sickie, or being crook?

one of the live sites in downtown Brisbane

 

Probably not, considering most people don’t need three different phrases to describe the fact they’re not at work… Being crook means you’re actually sick, though many Australians push on and head to work whilst crook—not wanting to waste a perfectly good day off. Chucking a sickie means calling in sick, when you’re not. And being on the wag is what you do on Melbourne Cup day—it’s the moment you leave your desk to go to the washroom, change into a new dress and hat and sneak out the door—hoping your boss and co-workers never notice you left. Which in all likelihood they won’t—because they too are off changing their clothes and sneaking out doors.

watching the race

 The Melbourne Cup is a horse race—in its 152^nd running, it’s also a nationwide excuse to start partying at 11am and collectively drop $150 million at betting stations that are conveniently found just about everywhere, including street corners. Maia was the only person in our family to lay a bet (ah, yes the Ozzie school system…) though her horse didn’t fare so well and placed twelfth. Her teacher did better in the staff betting pool—and came away with the prize money and a bottle of wine.

street corner betting station

 It’s called “The Race the Stops the Nation”. And it truly is. There were several live sites in the downtown area where the booze was flowing and people were dressed to the nines.

The race may just characterise Australia better than any other event. Skipping work to bet to excess on a sport many know little about (though this gambling excess fits in with the fact Australians are the world’s heaviest gamblers, by a hefty margin) and then drinking to excess—all without apology or a worry.

Halloween—the Aussie take…

 “That pumpkin is a special one for Halloween,” we were told after picking up the pumpkin from the pile labelled ‘Halloween Pumpkins’. “When you carve it you must be very careful. Pumpkins are hard and knives are sharp.”

The thing about being somewhere that is sort of like home, but not really, is it’s the differences that jump out at you. And Halloween in Australia is, well, different… Part of it is what little tradition there was that came over with Scottish and Irish settlers died out over the years—so the execution of Halloween is kind of like they’re trying to play a game they don’t know the rules to and have only seen on TV.

It’s not that Halloween is complicated—it’s pretty much as egalitarian as a celebration gets, as one Canadian reporter aptly put it, “Halloween has become the ultimate civic holiday. It brings us out of our houses to mingle with neighbours. It shows how we cherish our children. It gathers people of all backgrounds together. Halloween has no religion, no ethnicity. It is the festival that fits our modern, multicultural society best.”

One of the American mums at Maia's school has an annual Halloween party which has grown and grown

 At home Halloween has morphed into a celebration that has roots in the harvest festival of Samhain and the Christian holy days of Hallowmas; and the costumes, decorations and traditions range from fanciful to frightening. Sure the candy is fun—but trick-or-treating is really about letting your imagination go wild as you plan and dress up in your costume, then enjoy all the reactions of friends and neighbours.

The first clue that things were different here was when Maia asked kids in her class what they were going to be for Halloween and none of them really understood the question. The dress code here is witch or ghoul. No one was spending weeks planning a costume and no one’s grandpa was going to end up having to assemble a complicated tractor costume from scratch.

The common complaints about Halloween in Australia are it teaches kids to beg and it’s just a bunch of consumerist hype. And I can see how it can look that way. But as a bang for your buck memory-maker I think Halloween might be as affordable as it gets. And I think the community building that comes with meeting all your neighbours kind of balances out the candy consumption…

Despite the differences; the streets were comparatively empty and the limited houses that participated only sported a discreet balloon or at most they had a pumpkin on the stoop giving it an air of a scavenger hunt rather than the trick-or-treating we’re used to--the kids still had a blast. There’s something quite magical about making your way past familiar but darkened landmarks and getting to knock on a neighbour’s door for no reason at all other than to say, “trick-or-treat!”

Winter Solstice

 Walking to the bus to meet Maia I was going through solstice plans in my head: Orange food, candles, sunny music… And I was thinking back to a time when the winter solstice marked the point where even if I worked a few minutes overtime I would still have some chance of seeing daylight during the days to come (yes, when you come from a place where winter daylight hours number about eight—this is an issue…)

Though this is technically our second winter in the southern hemisphere—it’s the first wintery winter we’ve had in more than three years.  Though I have to admit a winter where tomatoes can still grow in the garden is hard to classify as real winter. But there are only 10 hours and 24 minutes of daylight here these days.

misty solstice morning

 I was thinking a mash-up of these thoughts when I stopped at a crosswalk and started eavesdropping on the two guys ahead of me:

“This cold snap is killing me,” said the first.

“Yeah, last night I forgot to close my bedroom window and when I got up this morning I could see my breath,” said the second. “I had to go back to bed. It was too cold. I was 45 minutes late for work.”

Too cold means it’s sunny and about 24 C  (75 F) during the day and 10 C (50 C) overnight. Chilly, yes (well sort of—I know it sounds like Vancouver’s summer…). But late for work chilly?

To be honest—I followed the guys further than I should have just to hear the conversation—I figured I’d just hunt Maia down if I missed her at her stop. I was just a bit mesmerized by someone being so shocked at the sight of seeing their breath. I had to wonder what he would think if he found his underwear frozen to the side of a drawer… That’s when you know it’s cold.

“Did your boss mind?” asked guy number one.

Would you mind if your employee couldn’t make it to work because he saw his breath and had to climb back into bed? I think I’d mind. But I’ve actually put on icy underwear that I had to pry out of a drawer—so what do I know?

His boss didn’t mind. In fact he suggested later hours until the coldsnap eases—so the guy doesn’t have to get out of bed before 7am—which is when the sun rises and warms everything.

I collected Maia. She made a lantern and we cooked our dinner of ginger carrot soup, winter squash, sweet potatoes and cheese cake with a sun of mandarin oranges. And we talked about our solstice memories: of bundling up for lantern walks and Morrismen, of warming ourselves at bonfires and watching in awe as fantastical creatures called for the sun. And we talked about those harsh winters that settlers to Canada endured—the ones some never made it through. Solstice so often marked the beginning of the starving time. But the midwinter celebrations: the potlatches, and yules, and festivals of light saw most people through the long dark.

It’s nice to have seasons again. Even if this season wouldn’t really count as season in our homeland. But Maia did find a fallen red maple leaf the other day. And we saw our breath this morning. And in the days to come the sun will shine longer and stronger. And we’ll shift from winter to spring.

ANZAC Day

We stood wedged in a thick crowd lining the side of the road, around us flags were waving and people clapped and occasionally wiped away tears. Unknown to Maia she was getting a history lesson in heartbreak and hope: Gallipoli, Passchendaele, El Alamein, Buka, Bougainville, Han River, Seoul, Babang, Duc Lap, Long Tan, Al Rumaythah, Doan and Kakarak. Congo, Cyprus, Uganda, Yugoslavia, Haiti, Solomon Islands and Darfur.

She thought she was watching a parade with pipe bands and soldiers, and old men and women—their chests heavy with ribbons and medals, sprigs of rosemary and poppies. And we decided not to explain a world of conflicts; a small country on the edge of the earth that tries to bring peace; brave men and women who believe in freedom.

It’s enough that she witnessed the long parade of battles gone and forgotten, and of peacekeeping that never ends. It’s enough that she sees us plan a cruising route around a world where risks are ever-changing, as peace gives way to strife, and then war retreats to truce.

This wasn’t a day to judge the wisdom of war; this was the day to honour valour and believe in heroes.

Lest we forget.

* ANZAC Day commemorates and honours the members of the Australian and New Zealand Army Corps (ANZAC) who fought at Gallipoli during World War I. It’s become a national day of remembrance and celebrates the distinct Aussie spirit of courage, ingenuity and good humour. And when the parade is over they all head to the pub to gamble and drink like, umm, Australians...