Bathing Ada

Asking Ada to take a bath is kind of like trying to lick your elbow. It’s tricky … and seemingly impossible, and you feel like a bit of a knob. “Don’t be stupid! You must think I’m an idot!” she will yell.

But the other morning we were able to trick her into the bathroom to take a bath, and before I knew it she was stark naked, and I was helping get her nappy off her ankles (something I thought I’d never do!)

Fact: When you get old, you become a little kid again. You don’t care who sees you naked.

Her body was white, hairless, soft and full, draped with thin wrinkly skin, like that of an albino scrotum.
And her boobs - although fallen, were round and full like two water balloons inside a thin seamless case. Her nipples seemed to have disappeared completely.

Looking at her body was like looking at a little kids body. It’s kind of alien, and you don’t think of it with any kind of emotion - just mild curiosity.

Usually she weeps like a baby when being forced to bath, but today she is solem, and sits. Ada’s carers grab her tits and tell her that her girls were in good shape!

It’s time for her to wash her bits… and I’m out of there. That’s enough for me to handle in one day.

Things that go aye! in the night

Lot’s has happened at home lately. Ada’s new drugs have had some strange side effects. For the last four nights, I’ve been woken up and had to help the nurse lift poor Ada off the floor. (Not easy.. and some times quiet funny, because we’d accidentally end up throwing her face down on the bed). I know it doesn’t sound funny, but when you see two pyjama clad women, trying to manoeuvre an old Jewish lady who is making dramatic grunts while sporting bed-hair that rivals Amy Whinehouse or an angry Muppet, it must look a funny sight.

Persistence pays

Today I almost gave up, and contemplated committing suicide by ice-cream at Ben and Jerries… but thankfully a healthy dose of persistence meant I’ve lived through a day of Jeans Shopping.

I tried on over 30 pairs of jeans, with a try : fits : looks_ok ratio of 30 : 3 : 1.

BTW, it has dawned on me a truth, that I suspected last time I was here, but can now confirm…Australia is ahead of fashion in NY (by about a year). And to be completely honest… Melbourne has better shopping. There. I said it. I can’t believe it’s true. It takes a lot of guts to admit this. Jeez!!

Coping Mechanism

- It’s late, dark, cold and I’m the only one on the street heading towards a gang of dodgy looking guys from ‘the hood’ wearing hoodies. I hum the Seinfeld theme tune – something I do to turn scary situations into oddly funny ones.

They let me pass without mugging me, and because of my forced ‘Jovialness’ I notice how funny their baggy pants look, hanging half way down their butts.

- I open my eyes early one morning, and am greeted by Ada’s horrified stare. She has been peeping around the corner staring at me, and has forgotten that I am staying with her and sleeping on her couch. I’m scared she is going to flip out, so I hum the Seinfeld theme song, and the situation seems oddly comical.

- I accidentally walk right in on Ada, pamper’s around ankles and sitting on her porta potty. Our eyes lock – she looks as mortified as me. I flee and hum the Seinfeld theme song.

- I’m in the doctor’s surgery waiting for my Aunt, and a skinny lady with a caramel perm comes to the reception and yells to the staff - ‘You need to put a sign and make men using the bathroom to put the seat down! I refuse to touch the seat! It’s unhygienic! I mean what kind of person leaves the seat up! It is a big health issue! You gotta do something about this!! I am not going to be able to use the toilet here!’
Everyone in the waiting room is staring at this is woman, including my Aunt who is hard of hearing. No Seinfeldian music needed… this is already an episode.

Thank you Larry David.

Mail, Scandals and Wifely Duties on the Kitchen Floor

One night I decided to come home early, before heading out for the night. I brought the mail up, and when I entered, Jean ushered me into the kitchen, hiding me and the mail from Ada. Woops! – I’m not supposed to show Ada the mail or she hides it! As I was crouching in the kitchen, Jean started to tell me about Ada’s late husband Jack. And of the scandalous marriage they had! Jack and Ada would always look like movie stars everywhere they went. But apparently, Jack frequently ‘had other women.’ And would leave Ada in the evenings….. to get a hooker! He would feel women up in the elevator, who lived in their apartment building. He even left for 3 years for someone else many years back (I am shocked!).

Ada always says she never made a good house wife. She refused to cook, clean and apparently… have sex.
Jean said she would tell Ada – ‘Ada, you gotta be doing your wifely duties!’

Hearing about how much a person ‘puts out’ is a great way to really know them better - even if you didn’t want to know. Of course I have no idea why or what was going on, how much is true, or why I needed to be privy to such information, but I do think it’s funny how Jean sees sex in marriage as a duty. And as long as it works both ways… maybe it is?

(Although… since when do peops in relationships have matching sex drives? That’s one thing Father-nature didn’t think through too well.)

You Know You're an Aussie in NY when... #4

You know you’re an Aussie in NY when you ask for a lemon lime and bitters at the bar, and the barman says "you want what? A lemon lime and Guinness?"

More on Ada

It’s not easy to get to know a ‘two-faced’, bipolar, 86 year old woman, who has dementia and is on serious medication.
But that’s my Great-Aunt Ada, and you don’t have to like someone to love them.

In any given day, she can throw a temper tantrum, go back in time to her childhood, laugh and make jokes, be manically depressed or sleep all day.

But something that remains constant is her penchant for drama!

In the mornings, Jean will ask Ada ‘How are you today?’
Ada might reply ‘Waiting to die!’

(It is very hard to keep a straight face here)

Jean will bring Ada her food, and say ‘Here my sweet! Eat your breakfast.’
Ada will turn to Jeanette and say ‘You will kill me!’
(Ada thinks the nurses are trying to poison her.)

Yet on other days, she says ‘Thank you my love. I am very lucky.’

Sometimes, her face will be looking really strange and oddly comical, and then you’ll notice she is holding her dentures in her hand.

I love the way she laughs when she realises she’s speaking Polish to us, and we don’t understand. So she says it again in English – only she’s actually still speaking Polish, but can’t tell the difference in her mind.

Most mornings, Ada wakes up and complains about her body aching (we don’t feel sorry for her, because she has been complaining all her life, and she refuses to exercise.) But the other morning, she was in a good mood, and I could hear her saying to Jean in her thick Polish accent “when ever I see that, I want to bite it…. Because it looks like chocolate!’
There was a long pause, and I wondered what she was looking at.
Then Jean said ‘The phone?’
‘Ya!’

Let Me Tell You Bout Jean!

Every morning, before I set out on ‘adventures’, I get to chat with Jean, the burly Caribbean woman, who looks after Aunt Ada during the day.

When talking to Jean, our conversation goes a little something like this:

Me sitting, listening, and Jean saying:
“Now let me tell you something! When I is walking here today, and people is stoppin me on de street, saying – where you get that bag! …. “
“And hear what I tell you! When I was makin de baby (pregnant), I was climbing a coconut tree and ….”
“Let me tell you somethin! My son - the Aquarian...” (her son’s don’t have names, she refers to them all as their star signs!!!)
Listen, I’m goina tell you something…. When I was gettin de chemo…”

And on and on it goes – for hours if I let it. One morning I decided to do an experiment. So instead of getting up to leave mid conversation, I just sat and listened, to see when she would naturally stop talking.

2hrs and 40 minutes later of solid listening and nodding my head in amazement, and I was exhausted! So I went to the toilet to have a break.

Jean can talk, and although I often struggle to comprehend what she’s saying, her heart is as big as the ocean, and those who know her, feel lucky to be in her presence.

Week in Review

This week, I saw my Aunt naked.

I asked the door lady how much a hand bag was in the Desil store,

And… I was walking down 6th Avenue, swinging my arms to a really great song (Fa Fa Fa by Data Rock) and I accidentally hit a man, trying to pass me, in the balls.

Jolly good so far.

You Know You're an Aussie in NY when... #3

....when you notice on all the bathroom mirrors, there is a huge sign saying ‘Employees must wash hands after using bathroom’.

No der Freddy Kruger.

Bring on the Crazies

Not to make any nerds out there jealous, but last weekend I’d just walked out of a film conference with the producer of ‘The Wrester’ and was wondering what on earth I was doing with my night, when a nice ‘Slavic’ boy started chatting to me. At last! – a film nerd and a foreigner for me to play with! We talked passionately about the conference and decided to grab dinner at a brilliant American invention – the Wholefood Market (http://www.wholefoodsmarket.com/products).

It is there, that the unexpected happens. We sit on a communal bench, next to a woman in her early 40’s with her head in her hands, and a cup of milk. I figure she’s just another depressed new Yorker. Then, in a broad NY accent, she looks up, and asks ‘is it hot in here? Tell me it’s hot in here?’. We both agreed, it was pretty hot. A few minutes later, ‘No, I mean I’m feeling really hot in here.’
‘Yes’ we agree it’s hot. Hotter than the freezing cold outside that is. She turns and stares. ‘I had two drinks! Only two! And now look!’
Me and Slavic exchange uncomfortable glances to say... oh dear, we’ve sat ourselves next to some weird looking alcoholic.
‘I never drink!’ She screeched. ‘I only had some wine! I’m a teacher, you know. There is something wrong with me.’
‘That’s ok’ I reassure her, ‘I often feel weird after two glasses of wine.’ (I don’t care if Slavic knows I can’t handle alcohol.)

‘I should drink milk right?’ She says taking a sip.
‘You should have some water’ I say again, hoping she will go away. For the next five minutes Slavic boy and I make small talk, while getting interrupted by this woman repeating herself. And then… she stares at me and says – ‘Hey, can you please come to the bathroom with me?’

I freeze. My god, this woman is a phsychopath and is making her move by isolating me alone in the toilets. Is she going to mug me or murder me? Me and Slavic boy exchange worried glances.

‘Can’t you go by yourself?’ I ask hopefully.
‘No, I want you to come with me.’
I ask Slavic boy to mind my bags. And try to convey that if I’m not back soon, to come after me. I stand, she takes my arm, and we make for the bathroom. Thoughts like, why is this crazy alcoholic woman on my arm, and why are we leaving alone together for the bathrooms.

Luckily there is a line to the ladies. Then unluckily, she starts screaming ‘I’m going vomit! I’m going to vomit!’ I suddenly realise what is happening, and I’m mortified, and have turned into a stiff and panicked person – as well as feeling terribly bad for thinking she was going to mug me. But before I can think of what to do, she projectile vomits over the entire bathroom floors, trapping people in the two stalls and sending the cue of people running. I try and direct her to the sink, then to the bin, and by that stage, there is not a tile spared.

Awkwardly, I rub her back, pass her dampened paper towels, telling her not to worry, and that I’ve vomited so many times on wine, I’ve lost count (true story).

The people in the stalls immerge, give me sympathetic glances, leap over the vomit and flee.

5 minutes later, we walk back to Slavic boy, who has finished his meal. Crazy lady then yells loudly ‘Your girlfriend is a saint! I vomited you know!’ Then keeps repeating her self.

We sit back down and the true craziness of this lady is slowly revealed to us.

Miraculously, I am able to eat some of my chicken and corn and rice salad. Mmmmm!

So, Splinter will live to see another night

Ada’s apartment comes alive at night. The sounds of Ada snoring, sirens from outside (yes it’s true – in NY there’s always sirens) and the quick scurrying of a small brown mouse that only comes out from hiding when I’m alone.

I keep meaning to buy a mousetrap, but always forget. And, as the evenings go on, I have grown a little fond of this mouse. (Weird I know.)

But before you judge…bare in mind – it’s only one mouse – not mice. There are no mice droppings to be found, so he must be hygienic, and he hasn’t eaten any of my food or clothes. So he must be respectful of other’s property. For these reasons I am reluctant to kill him. And what if the trap falls on him the wrong way, and ends up being a torture devise? But more importantly….Why is he here? Why is he not behaving like a terrifying rodent? And what does he want from me? I think I will call him ‘Splinter’ after the greatest rodent to come out of the 90’s.

Subway Dancing

Optus are cunts.

Ohhhh...it should be easy

So the next evening I’m in the Columbia University cafeteria – the only place open till late with free wifi, and no pressure to keep buying food. I’m on i-chat to a friend ( you know who you are) about weather to email this guy and go on a date or not, and she is making me laugh, when a student sits down at the next table…

He is not fancy, but has a friendly open face. We get talking, and without even realising, the night slips away. I’m not attracted to him, but he is very interesting to talk to. He’s from Texas, studying philosophy, is a pilot of light aircraft, and has worked as a financial advisor previously. Recently, when the price of coper skyrocketed, he developed a machine that sorted pennies made before 1982 (as they were primarily made of copper). He then tried to melt them down and sell them. The government found out about him after seeing someone had been withdrawing hundreds of thousands of pennies from banks in the area, and ordered him to stop. Crazyness!

I like it. He’s also restored a sailing boat. Worked briefly as a card dealer in a casino and can’t bare the thought of getting trapped in a career he doesn’t love. Hmm same as me. We finish our ‘Snaples’ – a sweet sugary drink that’s cheaper than bottled water. (Go figure.) Then he has to leave and get in some piano practice, before writing a paper on weather God exists.

Hmmm. He does sound like a nutter and I can tell he’s a bit of a loner (aren’t we all?), but he was funny. He made me laugh and I love meeting interesting characters. He made Merrill Lynch boy seem dull in comparison. Which reminds me… conversation should be easy! When you click with people you just click. I’m going with my instincts on this one….

I will not be emailing Merrill Lynch boy for a date.

Starbucks Adventures #1

I’m totally sitting opposite the girl who played the victim of paedophilia in Devils Advocate… one of my favourite movies of all time! My first star! Unless you count all the people wearing hats and sunglasses that I’ve passed, knowing full well they were probably Madonna. I wonder what paedophilia girl has done with her life since then?

How I keep ending up in Starbucks is a complete phenomenon to me. It’s kind of like asking ‘why do people slow down to look at car crashes?’. I’m just going to resign to the fact that the need for comfort and warmth, and convenience outweighs the terribly bad coffee and zero wifi…. and that I’m probably going to find myself in one, roughly 8 times a week.

You Know You're an Aussie in NY when... #2

Last night, I went to the Upright Citizen’s Brigade theatre, and I had some time to kill before hand. So I walked into this dvd store across the road. Three older heavy-set guys turned and stared, and as I strolled in, eager to check out how much dvds cost to rent here. It was then that I noticed a heap of merchandise stacked next to the cashier. With a slow, and unwilling realisation, I discovered they were oversized dildos and sex toys. Oh dear…. I was in hardcore porn store. That explained the pretty neon lights. Spinning round in a blur and exiting the building I had a chuckle… this was the second time I’ve done this, this week… no joke.

Joy-rage

Stepping outside this morning, a cool wind slapped me in the face, along with an intense excited feeling, that I hadn’t allowed my self to truly feel yet due to the uncertainty of my staying arrangements. It is the same feeling you get when driving a new car, and realising it’s yours! It surges up from inside of you, until you just gotta scream! Only you are on the streets of New York, and screaming in a fit of joy is probably not advisable, unless you want people to clear the area around you immediately, and behave like you are holding a fresh bag of anthrax.

Which begs an interesting question. If suppressing anger is bad for you, what does suppressing joy do? Could suppressing joy build up and up in your guts, until one day you just can’t take, and you totally flip out – and just explode with happiness? What would this ‘joy-rage’ look like?

I have a feeling that Fifi Box, on Sunrises weather is in danger of showing us this on live tv.

I'm Beautiful

When I was a little girl, I used to stare at my self in the mirror, and declare to everyone that I was an ‘ugly toad’. My mother, to her credit, made me look in the mirror and say ‘I’m beautiful’. And it changed the way I felt about myself for a long time.
But it’s easy to forget to stare at your self and say ‘I’m beautiful’ every day. So these days, I choose to live with a relative with dementia. They will tell you that you are beautiful all the time, and keep telling you, because they forgot they told you just a few hours ago.

You Know You're an Aussie in NY when... #1

Well, you know you’re a Melbournian in NY when you go into a Starbucks to see if they have free internet, and you can’t bare to stay because the coffee is sooooo bad.