At the Races

Sometimes I feel like I have fallen down the rabbit hole and come out as a character in a movie. I am myself but either in a different time, or place, or life status. I think that’s because some of what am experiencing I’ve only been exposed to in movies such as in hearing some of the accents, and seeing some of the sports that are common here such as cricket, squash, bowls, and rugby. Now I know we have some of these things in the US but just not where I’ve been. This last week I was fortunate to be sent by Te Whare Mahana to Auckland to attend the Tenth Annual Gathering of mental health professionals treating personality disorders. It was held at Ellersbie Race Course (for horses). I have never been to the races or even seen a horse race course. This is a huge piece of real estate in the middle of Auckland that has a well groomed grass track for the best thoroughbred horses to race their little hearts around. It is so big that a golf course sits dwarfed in the middle of it. Along one side of the track is the grandstand with a four story building through which you enter which is quite posh. When the races are not underway they rent the glass walled rooms overlooking the track for conferences such as ours. It was a lovely, peaceful setting in which to hold the conference. We took our catered lunches out into the fresh air and sat in the boxed seating areas with me pretending to be in a white flowing dress and large showy hat politely sizing up the horses and sipping tea with a touch if cream in it and discussing this and that with my colleagues. The fact that I continue to be surrounded by accents from around the English speaking world added to my surrealistic feeling.

I’ve had some other reminders that I’m “not in Kansas any more” when I’ve found myself realizing that what I think I heard was different that what others understood. One fine day at work, as the night staff was filling in the oncoming day shift about the status of the residents’ wellness, she mentioned taking away a residents “sleepers” as a safety precaution. Everyone else in the room quietly nodded in agreement while in my head I pictured a pair of pink bunny slippers and wondered “what the heck can a person do to cause self harm with slippers.” When the discussion was over, my curiosity compelled me to ask the questions which brought uproarious laughter from my colleagues. “no, no, not ‘slippers’… ‘sleepers’, you know, sleep medications.” Once again, I am reminded not to make assumptions that I know what I think I know, no matter how small.

For now, as they say here, "G'Day"

Chris