Tag: Australia vs America

  • Why Australians Don’t Tip Like Americans

    Why Australians Don’t Tip Like Americans


    Australians aren’t opposed to tipping. We just have a very different idea of when someone deserves one. After living in America, I’ve learned to navigate the rules. Well, most of them.

    I have lived here for eight years, and I still occasionally find myself standing in front of a payment terminal wondering whether I’m supposed to tip the person on the other side of the counter.

    Restaurants? Easy.

    Bars? No problem.

    The barber? I’ve got that one sorted.

    But the person handing me a takeaway bag?

    The bloke who delivered my furniture?

    Apparently, somebody even tips their chiropractor.

    At this rate, I’m beginning to wonder whether I should be tipping the woman who checks my receipt at Costco.

    Tipping is one of those cultural differences between Australia and America that seems relatively straightforward until you actually have to navigate it.

    Australians do tip. I’ve done it myself, both as a customer and during my years working in hospitality.

    The difference is that, traditionally, Australians have viewed tipping as a reward for particularly good service. In America, especially in full-service restaurants, it’s an established part of the transaction.

    After living on both sides of the Pacific, I’ve come to appreciate certain aspects of the American approach. Others still leave me scratching my head.

    restaurant bill showing tip
    After eight years in America, I’ve worked out most of the tipping rules. Most of them.

    Australians Do Tip. Just Not the Way Americans Do.

    Growing up in Australia, tipping was never something my family automatically did.

    I remember occasionally going to restaurants where my parents would leave something extra because the service had been particularly good.

    They’d comment on how well the server had looked after us and say they deserved a tip.

    That was the reasoning behind it.

    Someone had done a great job, so you gave them a little extra to show your appreciation.

    It was also something I only remember happening when we were eating in at restaurants.

    We weren’t tipping the person who handed us a takeaway order, the person making our coffee or someone who performed an everyday service.

    You paid the advertised price, and that was generally the end of the transaction.

    But I think there’s a misconception that Australians simply don’t tip.

    Having spent years working as a chef in Australia, I can tell you that tipping was very much a thing in the restaurants where I worked.

    At one restaurant, the tips went exclusively to the front-of-house staff. At another, more upmarket establishment, they were shared with the kitchen as well.

    The amounts weren’t usually substantial, but occasionally we’d have a particularly good night.

    I remember diners leaving unexpectedly large tips and the staff being genuinely blown away.

    It was a lovely surprise.

    The important distinction was that nobody expected it.

    We weren’t standing around calculating what percentage of the evening’s sales we should receive from customers.

    If someone left a tip, fantastic. If they didn’t, that was perfectly normal too.


    Why Australian Restaurant Workers Don’t Depend on Tips

    Part of the explanation lies in how hospitality workers are paid.

    Australia has a system of minimum wages and industry awards that establish legally enforceable pay rates and working conditions.

    Under the Restaurant Industry Award, employees are entitled to minimum rates determined by factors including their classification and employment status. Additional payments can apply for evening work, weekends, public holidays and overtime.

    As of July 2026, Australia’s national minimum wage is A$26.44 an hour, although restaurant employees may be entitled to different rates under their applicable award.

    The important point isn’t the precise hourly figure.

    It’s that an Australian restaurant worker’s legal minimum wage isn’t dependent on whether I decide to leave an extra ten dollars after dinner.

    That doesn’t mean every hospitality worker in Australia is financially comfortable. The cost of living is a very real issue, and hospitality can involve long hours, difficult customers and physically demanding work.

    I spent enough time in commercial kitchens to know that it’s not an easy way to earn a living.

    But the wage structure is different.

    In Australia, tipping is generally additional income rather than a mechanism employers use to meet their minimum wage obligations.

    And that helps explain why the social expectation surrounding tipping developed differently.

    Chef during service in a restaurant
    Having worked in Australian restaurants, I’ve seen tips distributed in different ways.

    Why Tipping Matters So Much More in America

    Before moving to America, I already knew tipping was a big part of the culture.

    That wasn’t a surprise.

    What I wasn’t entirely sure about was how much to tip and, perhaps more importantly, who I was supposed to tip.

    I Googled it. I asked American friends.

    Eventually, I worked out the basics.

    But understanding why tipping is so firmly established requires looking at how American hospitality workers are paid.

    Under federal law, employers can pay eligible tipped employees a direct cash wage of just $2.13 an hour, provided their wages and tips together meet the applicable minimum wage.

    The federal minimum wage is $7.25 an hour. If tips don’t bring an employee’s earnings up to that required minimum, the employer must make up the difference.

    Here in Tennessee, those federal figures apply to covered tipped employees.

    That doesn’t mean every American server earns $2.13 an hour, or that $7.25 represents what servers typically take home.

    America’s wage arrangements vary considerably by state, employer and individual worker.

    Washington, for example, requires employers to pay the full state minimum wage before tips. In 2026, that statewide minimum is $17.13 an hour.

    Yet tipping remains a familiar part of restaurant culture in states with very different wage systems.

    So while wages help explain why tipping matters, they aren’t the entire explanation.

    Tipping has also become an established social custom. And once a custom becomes that deeply embedded, changing it isn’t necessarily as simple as changing the wage structure.


    Does Tipping Actually Produce Better Service?

    Here’s where my experience might surprise some Australians.

    I think tipping can encourage better service.

    Having spent years living in America, I’ve noticed a considerable difference between the restaurant service I experience here and what I’ve experienced in Australia.

    American servers are often incredibly attentive.

    They greet you when you arrive, explain the menu, check whether everything is going well and make sure your drinks are topped up.

    Sometimes they’re a little too attentive.

    There are occasions when I’d quite like to finish chewing before being asked whether everything is tasting fantastic.

    But generally speaking, I appreciate the effort.

    When we visited Australia last year, the difference was particularly noticeable.

    At several establishments, we weren’t greeted when we arrived. We had to ask for menus, waited a long time to be served and sometimes struggled to get someone’s attention when we wanted the bill.

    Not everywhere, of course.

    Australia has some wonderful restaurants and exceptional hospitality professionals.

    But across a number of dining experiences during that trip, the service felt noticeably more relaxed than what we’d become accustomed to in America.

    Whether tipping itself causes that difference is a more complicated question.

    Restaurant culture, staffing, management and customer expectations all influence service.

    What I can say is that, from my own experience, the American system often seems to encourage a level of attentiveness that I appreciate. Although perhaps we could find a happy medium somewhere between being completely ignored and having someone ask how my meal is going every four minutes.

    Restaurant server attending to customers at a table in an American restaurant.
    American restaurant service often feels more attentive to me, although occasionally I’d like to finish a mouthful before the next check-in.

    The Steakhouse Waitress Who Absolutely Deserved Her Tip

    One of my favourite examples of American hospitality happened at a steakhouse.

    I can’t remember which restaurant it was, but I certainly remember the waitress.

    We were dining with our daughters, who were being a little fussy about what they wanted.

    She was incredibly accommodating.

    Nothing seemed too much trouble. She was quick with the drinks, attentive throughout the meal and genuinely friendly.

    It wasn’t simply that she performed her job efficiently.

    It was how she made us feel.

    We felt welcome, comfortable and looked after.

    She received a substantial tip.

    That’s the kind of experience that reminds me why I appreciate having the opportunity to reward someone for exceptional service.

    Interestingly, it’s exactly the same thinking I remember from growing up in Australia.

    The difference is that, in America, I’m also expected to tip when the service is merely adequate.

    And even when it’s downright awful, I find it difficult not to leave something.


    I Once Left a Tip After Some Truly Terrible Service

    I don’t think I’ve ever left an American restaurant without tipping.

    But I have certainly reduced the amount.

    One experience at a Cracker Barrel in Knoxville comes to mind.

    The server was rude, our order was wrong, everything took forever, and there was virtually no attention throughout the meal.

    It was a thoroughly unpleasant dining experience.

    I still left a tip, although considerably less than usual.

    For particularly poor service, I’ve sometimes left 10% or simply five dollars.

    My normal approach is around 20%, often with a little rounding.

    If the bill comes to $152 and the service has been good, I might round the total up to $190.

    If it hasn’t been particularly good, I might make it $180.

    It’s not a complicated mathematical formula.

    I’m simply acknowledging the quality of the experience.

    But this is one of the tensions in American tipping culture.

    I understand that servers may depend heavily on tips to earn a living.

    At the same time, I don’t think customers should feel obligated to reward genuinely poor service at exactly the same level as exceptional service.

    That’s a difficult balance.

    And it becomes even more complicated when you consider how much individual servers can earn.


    Some American Servers Make Serious Money From Tips

    Living in Nashville, I’ve had conversations with bartenders working on Broadway.

    Some have told me they can make between $1,000 and $2,000 a week in tips.

    That’s a substantial amount of money.

    Of course, Broadway is a particularly busy entertainment district, and those figures are what individual bartenders have told me about their own experiences. They’re not representative of every bartender in Nashville, let alone America.

    The people I’ve spoken to described it as hard work, but they also enjoyed the atmosphere.

    They were young, loved the rush of the job and enjoyed the social side of working in such a lively environment.

    For them, tipping could be financially rewarding.

    But I’ve also spoken to hospitality workers in quieter establishments who tell a very different story.

    Some struggle to make ends meet and need multiple jobs to cover their rent and living expenses.

    That’s the difficulty with a system where a significant portion of someone’s earnings can depend on customer traffic and generosity.

    A busy Saturday night on Broadway can look very different from a quiet Tuesday afternoon in a suburban restaurant.

    It also explains why I’m not convinced there’s a simple answer to the question of whether America should eliminate tipping and replace it with higher wages.

    Some workers may prefer the predictability of a higher guaranteed wage.

    Others may value the earning potential of tips.

    The experiences I’ve heard certainly aren’t all the same.

    A bar on Broadway in Nashville
    Broadway bars are great places to earn tips, but you’ll work for it

    When Did Everyone Start Asking for a Tip?

    This is where American tipping culture starts to lose me.

    I’m perfectly comfortable tipping at restaurants and bars.

    I’ve become accustomed to tipping my barber.

    But I don’t understand why I’m increasingly being presented with tipping options for services that involve little more than handing me something I’ve already paid for.

    Take Starbucks.

    I use the drive-through, order my coffee, and eventually reach the payment window.

    The employee hands me the payment terminal.

    Then comes the familiar line.

    “It’s just going to ask you a question there.”

    I know what the question is.

    You know what the question is.

    The payment terminal certainly knows what the question is.

    Would I like to leave a tip?

    No, thank you.

    I’m not suggesting that making coffee doesn’t involve work or skill. Of course it does.

    But I’ve already paid for the coffee.

    If I’m collecting takeaway and someone simply walks a bag from the kitchen to the front counter, I don’t understand why that transaction should automatically involve a gratuity.

    To me, that’s the service I purchased.

    Apparently, I’m not alone in noticing how widespread tipping requests have become.

    A 2023 Pew Research Center survey found that 72% of US adults believed tipping was expected in more places than it had been five years earlier.

    Research reference: Pew Research Center, How Americans See the Norms and Practices of Tipping (2023) .

    That distinction matters.

    It’s not simply Australians arriving in America and struggling to understand the rules.

    Americans themselves are navigating a tipping culture that can feel increasingly complicated.

    Digital payment terminal displaying suggested tip percentages at a coffee shop counter.
    The familiar payment terminal question. Sometimes I feel like it’s following me everywhere.

    Eight Years Later, I’m Still Not Sure Who I’m Supposed to Tip

    When we moved to America, our furniture took three months to arrive by ship from Australia.

    Eventually, a removal company delivered everything and unpacked it.

    That was the service we’d paid for.

    I didn’t tip the removalists.

    At the time, it didn’t even occur to me.

    Now, looking back, I sometimes wonder whether I should have.

    Were they expecting a tip?

    Did I commit some terrible American social offence without realising it?

    I genuinely don’t know.

    Then somebody recently told me they tip their chiropractor.

    Their chiropractor!

    I’ve never done that.

    Suddenly, I found myself questioning another perfectly ordinary transaction.

    This is what I find most confusing about American tipping culture.

    There are situations where the expectations are clear, and then there are others where you seem to need an instruction manual.

    Restaurants, bars and barbers? Sorted.

    Furniture delivery and chiropractors?

    Apparently, I’m still learning.


    Why I Think Australians Should Tip When Visiting America

    Despite my occasional frustration with the system, I think Australians visiting America should follow the local tipping customs.

    It’s part of visiting another country.

    When you travel, you encounter different expectations, traditions and ways of doing things.

    I’ve lived in several countries, including Samoa and New Zealand, and I’ve learned that respecting local customs is an important part of adapting to a different culture.

    You don’t walk into a Samoan fale and insist on keeping your shoes on simply because that’s what you might do at home.

    Likewise, the Māori hongi, a traditional greeting involving the touching of noses, is something to approach respectfully when invited to participate.

    Different cultures have different expectations.

    Tipping in America is another example.

    You don’t have to agree with every aspect of the system to recognise that the person serving your dinner didn’t create it.

    Refusing to tip a restaurant server because you disagree with American wage structures isn’t going to change those structures.

    It may simply leave that individual worker worse off.

    My approach is to follow the established customs where I live while reserving the right to question the increasingly inventive places where tipping requests appear.

    I think that’s a reasonable compromise.


    Would I Want American Tipping Culture in Australia?

    Not really.

    Australia already has a wage structure designed to ensure employees receive a legally enforceable minimum payment for their work.

    I don’t see a compelling reason to replace the traditional Australian approach with an expectation that customers routinely add another percentage to their restaurant bills.

    That doesn’t mean tipping should disappear.

    Far from it.

    I like being able to reward someone who makes an evening special.

    I remember how much an unexpectedly generous tip could mean when I worked in Australian kitchens.

    But I’d rather it remain a genuine gesture of appreciation than become something customers feel obliged to do every time they encounter a payment terminal.

    And there’s another aspect of the American system that bothers me.

    Restaurant prices have increased considerably during my time living here, at least in the places my family frequents.

    Yet the expectation to tip remains.

    Because tips are often calculated as a percentage of the bill, higher menu prices also mean a larger tip in dollar terms, even when the percentage doesn’t change.

    A 20% tip on a $100 meal is $20.

    If that same meal costs $150, the tip becomes $30.

    That’s a substantial difference when you’re taking a family out for dinner.

    I’m not opposed to paying for good service.

    I simply think the total cost of dining out is worth considering when discussing how much customers should be expected to contribute.


    Perhaps the Biggest Difference Isn’t Generosity at all

    After eight years in America, tipping has become a fairly normal part of my life.

    I generally leave around 20% in restaurants. I’ll happily leave more when someone provides outstanding service.

    I also understand that many American hospitality workers depend on tips in a way that Australian workers generally don’t.

    But I still think about those childhood restaurant visits in Australia.

    When my family left a tip, it was because somebody had made the experience special.

    Nobody had to calculate a percentage.

    Nobody felt pressured by a payment terminal.

    It was simply a way of saying thank you.

    That’s what I liked about the Australian approach, and it’s still what I appreciate most about tipping in America.

    When someone goes out of their way to make my family feel welcome, I’m more than happy to acknowledge it.

    Just don’t ask me to tip the chiropractor. I’m still trying to work that one out.


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  • Why Australians Call Flip-Flops “Thongs”

    Why Australians Call Flip-Flops “Thongs”

    AUSTRALIA EXPLAINED


    There are certain Aussie words that you don’t realize are particularly Australian until you leave.

    “Thongs” is one of them.

    Growing up in Australia, there was absolutely nothing unusual about somebody saying:

    “I’m just putting my thongs on.”

    Nobody gasped or looked concerned.

    Nobody wondered why you were discussing your underwear before going to the shops.

    You were simply putting a pair of rubber shoes on your feet.

    Then you move to America.

    Suddenly, announcing that you need to find your thongs before leaving the house creates an entirely different mental picture.

    Because in the United States, a thong is generally underwear.

    In Australia, it’s footwear.

    So how did Australians end up calling flip-flops “thongs”?

    The funny thing is, Australians aren’t actually being as weird as Americans might think.

    In fact, there’s a perfectly sensible reason we call them thongs. We’ve even got history on our side.

    Australian thongs, known as flip-flops in the United States
    Thongs to an Australian. Flip-flops to an American.

    The Name Comes From the Strap

    The Australian use of the word “thong” makes a lot more sense when you look at how the footwear is constructed.

    A thong was originally a narrow strip or strap of leather.

    The word had been used in English for centuries, long before anyone was using it to describe a certain style of underwear.

    The classic Aussie thong has a sole with a Y-shaped strap that passes between the big toe and second toe.

    That strap is the thong.

    Eventually, the name of the strap became the name we commonly use for the entire piece of footwear.

    So technically, Australians didn’t randomly look at a pair of flip-flops one afternoon and decide to give them the same name as skimpy underwear.

    The footwear meaning has much older linguistic roots. Which is slightly disappointing, because that would have been a much better story.


    Americans Used to Call Them Thongs Too

    Here’s where things get interesting.

    Americans did too.

    In fact, “thong” was once a perfectly normal American name for the sandal, and American dictionaries still recognize that meaning today. The modern rubber version became more popular in the United States after World War II, influenced by the traditional Japanese zōri sandal.

    Traditional Japanese zori sandals that influenced modern flip-flops
    The modern rubber flip-flop was influenced by traditional Japanese zōri sandals

    By the 1960s, another name was becoming popular.

    The flip-flop.

    The origin of that name appears to be really simple.

    It’s the sound they make when you walk.

    Flip.

    Flop.

    Flip.

    Flop.

    For a while, Americans used both “thong” and “flip-flop” for the footwear. Over time, though, flip-flop increasingly won out.

    At roughly the same time, “thong” was developing another meaning in American English, referring to increasingly revealing swimwear and eventually the style of underwear most Americans associate with the word today.

    Exactly when Americans stopped calling their footwear thongs seems to have varied by place and generation. There are Americans who remember using the word for their shoes through the 1960s, 70s and even into the 80s.

    Australia simply never made the switch.

    Which means when an American laughs because an Australian calls a flip-flop a thong, there’s a perfectly reasonable response.

    You used to call them thongs too.


    Thongs Are Almost an Australian Uniform

    The more interesting part isn’t really what Australians call them.

    It’s how completely normal they are. Growing up on the coast in Australia, I essentially lived in thongs from spring through autumn.

    Going to the beach?

    Thongs.

    Duck down to the shops?

    Thongs.

    Barbecue?

    Thongs.

    Taking the bins out?

    Thongs.

    Walking across pavement approximately three degrees below the melting point of human skin?

    Still thongs.

    There are limits, obviously. Australians don’t actually wear thongs everywhere, despite what some stereotypes might suggest.

    But they occupy a particular place in Australian life that’s difficult to explain until you’ve lived somewhere else. They’re cheap, practical, easy to kick off and perfectly suited to a country where beaches, heat and casual clothing are part of everyday life.

    We even have another name for them.

    Pluggers.

    The name comes from those little rubber plugs underneath the sole that hold the straps in place. Which also gives us the wonderfully Australian phrase:

    “I’ve busted me plugga!”

    Every Australian knows exactly what has happened.

    One second you’re walking normally.

    The next, the plug has pulled through the sole and you’re stranded with a piece of rubber attached to absolutely nothing.

    Fortunately, Australians have developed sophisticated technology to deal with this emergency. A bread tie.

    Australian thong repaired with a bread tie after the rubber plug broke
    The Australian emergency thong repair kit: one bread tie

    Push the strap back through the hole, wrap a bread tie around the bottom to stop it pulling through again, and you’re back in business.

    It works surprisingly well.

    It isn’t pretty. But neither are the thongs you’ve probably been wearing for the last three summers.


    I Never Thought Twice About the Word Until I Lived in America

    This is one of my favorite things about living between two countries.

    You discover that words you’ve used your entire life aren’t necessarily universal.

    They’re just normal to you.

    I never grew up thinking Australians had a quirky word for flip-flops.

    They weren’t flip-flops.

    They were thongs.

    That’s what they were called.

    It’s only after living in the United States that I’ve become conscious of how funny some perfectly ordinary Australian sentences can sound to American ears.

    The same thing happens in reverse.

    There are American words and expressions that barely register with me anymore, but sounded completely foreign when I first moved here. After a while, you almost develop two versions of English in your head. You know which word you’d use in Australia and which one will save you an explanation in America.

    Neither country is using English incorrectly.

    We’ve simply taken the same language and spent a couple of centuries tinkering with it. Occasionally with hilarious results.


    So, Are They Thongs or Flip-Flops?

    Thongs.

    Obviously.

    I’m Australian. What did you expect me to say?

    But after years of living in America, I’ve learned that context matters.

    If I’m talking to Australians, they’re thongs.

    If I’m talking to Americans, there’s a small part of my brain that now considers whether saying “thongs” is about to derail the entire conversation.

    Sometimes I’ll say flip-flops.

    Sometimes I’ll still say thongs.

    But sometimes it’s much more entertaining not to explain myself and wait for the American in the room to work out why an Australian man just announced that he left his thongs by the front door.

    That’s one Australian word I’m not quite ready to give up.


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    It helps keep From Down Under to Down South going, and unlike a busted plugga, I can’t fix the website with a bread tie.

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  • Americans Have a Hidden Superpower: Encouragement

    Americans Have a Hidden Superpower: Encouragement

    One of the things I’ve come to appreciate most after eight years in the United States is American encouragement. There are obvious ways living in another country changes you, but this was one change I didn’t notice happening.

    Your vocabulary changes. Your tastes change. You learn new customs and eventually stop noticing things that once seemed strange.

    Then there are the changes you don’t notice happening.

    It took me years to realize America had changed the way I respond when someone tells me they want to do something with their life.

    These days, my first instinct is usually to encourage them.

    That might not sound particularly remarkable. Surely people encourage each other everywhere right?

    Of course they do.

    But there is a particular kind of optimism I’ve encountered in America that feels different from the culture I grew up with in Australia. It’s an optimism that seems willing to give an idea the benefit of the doubt before demanding evidence that it will work.

    Someone wants to start a business.

    Someone wants to go back to college in middle age.

    Someone wants to make a living doing something they’ve only ever done as a hobby.

    The American response I’ve heard countless times is remarkably simple.

    Why not?


    Optimism and Practicality Aren’t Opposites

    Australians aren’t inherently pessimistic, despite what Americans might conclude after spending enough time with us.

    We can, however, be very good at keeping each other grounded.

    I think there is value in that.

    A friend announces an ambitious plan and the questions begin. Have you thought about the money? What happens if it doesn’t work? Do you know what you’re getting yourself into?

    Often those questions are an expression of care.

    You don’t want someone you love making an enormous mistake, so you start looking for the holes in the plan.

    I’ve done it plenty of times myself.

    What I’ve found interesting about America is that many people ask those questions too. They just don’t necessarily ask them first.

    First comes the encouragement.

    Then comes reality.

    It seems like a small distinction, but I’m increasingly convinced it isn’t.

    The first response someone receives to an idea can determine whether the conversation that follows is about making it happen or explaining why it can’t.


    America Has a High Tolerance for Reinvention

    Maybe one reason encouragement feels so natural here is that reinvention is everywhere.

    I’ve met people who have changed careers several times. People who went back to school decades after leaving it. People who moved hundreds of miles to take an opportunity. People who turned side projects into businesses.

    In a country this large and mobile, starting again doesn’t always carry the sense that something has gone wrong.

    Sometimes starting again is the plan.

    That matters.

    If you’ve grown up surrounded by stories of people changing direction, somebody announcing a new ambition doesn’t necessarily sound ridiculous. It sounds familiar.

    America’s national mythology probably plays a part too.

    The country’s stories are filled with reinvention, invention and improbable ambition. Some of those stories have been polished considerably in the retelling, of course. Opportunity has never been distributed equally, and wanting something badly enough certainly doesn’t guarantee you’ll get it.

    Still, cultural stories matter.

    A society that spends generations telling itself that people can build, move, invent, create and begin again is probably going to produce a lot of people whose instinctive response to a new idea is:

    Give it a shot.


    I’ve Watched This With My Own Children

    Having children in America has made the difference much more noticeable to me.

    When a child expresses an ambition here, adults often take it surprisingly seriously.

    Not seriously in the sense that every childhood dream is treated as a future certainty.

    Seriously enough to ask what the next step might be.

    My daughter Georgia is ten and loves dance. She already has ideas about where that might take her years from now.

    What has struck me isn’t whether those dreams eventually happen. Nobody knows that.

    It’s the response from the adults around her.

    The dream isn’t immediately reduced to something more “realistic.”

    Instead, people help her learn.

    They expose her to people further along the path.

    They allow her to imagine herself doing it.

    Eventually life will provide plenty of reality. There will be auditions, competition, disappointment, money, ability, timing and all the other things that determine where a dream ultimately goes.

    She doesn’t need adults manufacturing those obstacles years in advance.

    I’ve come to appreciate that enormously.

    Encouraging a child to pursue something isn’t the same as promising she’ll achieve it.

    It’s telling her the possibility is worth exploring.

    Young dancer performing on stage in Tennessee
    Watching my daughter grow up in America has made me notice how readily people here encourage a child’s ambitions.

    The Internet Made the Difference Even More Obvious

    Becoming a creator gave me another perspective on this.

    Putting something you’ve made in front of strangers is an excellent way to discover just how vulnerable ambition can make you feel.

    You’re effectively announcing:

    I made this.

    I think it’s worth your time.

    I’d like to make more of it.

    There are countless reasons to convince yourself not to do that.

    Yet some of the most encouraging messages I’ve received since starting From Down Under to Down South have come from Americans who have absolutely no reason to care whether I succeed.

    They don’t know me personally.

    Many stumbled across one video by accident.

    Yet they’ll leave a comment telling me to keep going, congratulate me on a milestone or tell me they hope the channel becomes much bigger.

    I’ve always found that generosity fascinating.

    Success can sometimes be treated as a limited resource. If someone else is doing well, there must somehow be less available for everyone else.

    Encouragement operates on the opposite assumption.

    Your success doesn’t diminish mine.

    I can want something good to happen for you without losing anything myself.

    That may be one of the healthiest ideas I’ve absorbed from living here.


    Somewhere Along the Way, America Rubbed Off on Me

    I only noticed the change when I began catching myself doing the same thing.

    Someone tells me they’re considering a career change and my brain doesn’t immediately produce a spreadsheet of potential disasters anymore.

    I want to know what they’re thinking.

    Someone talks about creating something and I’m interested in how they might start.

    Someone mentions an ambition that sounds a little unlikely and I don’t feel the same urge to bring it back down to earth.

    There will be time for practical questions.

    What I’ve lost is the assumption that practical and encouraging have to be opposites.

    You can tell someone their idea will require enormous work and still hope they succeed.

    You can point out a risk without making the risk the entire conversation.

    You can think someone’s chances are uncertain and still help improve them.

    Most importantly, you don’t have to believe someone will succeed to believe they deserve the opportunity to try.

    That distinction took me a surprisingly long time to understand.

    I explored this idea from a slightly different angle in this video:


    Maybe Encouragement Is More Important Than We Think

    There is an obvious danger in romanticizing American optimism.

    “Believe in yourself” doesn’t pay the mortgage.

    Not every business should be started. Not every career change is sensible. Sometimes the cautious friend asking uncomfortable questions is exactly the person you need.

    But pessimism has its own cost.

    Ideas can be killed long before reality ever gets the chance.

    People talk themselves out of applying for jobs because they assume somebody better will get them.

    They don’t create something because somebody else already does it.

    They don’t return to school because they think they’re too old.

    They don’t pursue an opportunity because failure would be embarrassing.

    Most adults don’t suffer from a shortage of reasons to doubt themselves.

    We’re remarkably good at producing those on our own.

    Perhaps that’s why I’ve come to value the American instinct to add something different to the conversation.

    Possibility.

    Living in the United States hasn’t made me believe anything is possible.

    Eight years here has taught me enough about America to know that isn’t true.

    What it has changed is my willingness to decide what’s impossible before somebody has even tried.

    These days, when someone tells me about the thing they’d love to do, I’m much less interested in being the first person to explain why it might fail.

    There will be plenty of people available for that job.

    I’d rather be the person who asks:

    Why not you?


    Enjoy From Down Under to Down South?

    If you enjoy seeing America through an Australian’s eyes, you can support my work by buying me a coffee. Every bit of support helps me keep making the videos, podcasts and stories you find here.


  • Why Do Australians Call McDonald’s “Macca’s”? There’s More to It Than Slang

    Why Do Australians Call McDonald’s “Macca’s”? There’s More to It Than Slang

    Why do Australians call McDonald’s “Macca’s”? Because we shorten everything. It’s just what we do. Afternoon becomes arvo, a service station becomes a servo, David becomes Davo and somewhere along the way McDonald’s became Macca’s. These days even McDonald’s Australia uses the name.

    If you go anywhere in Australia and ask someone where the nearest Macca’s is, almost everybody will know exactly what you’re talking about.

    McDonald’s.

    The strange thing for me is that I don’t remember it always being that way.

    I grew up in Australia in the 1970s and 80s, and in my childhood memories it was McDonald’s.

    Not Macca’s.

    McDonald’s.

    And going there was a treat.

    McDonald's Australia in the 1970s

    When McDonald’s Was Still McDonald’s

    One of my strongest childhood McDonald’s memories involves Sydney Airport.

    When relatives were visiting and we had to take them back to the airport, we’d sometimes stop at the McDonald’s at Sans Souci on the way home.

    For a kid, that was an event.

    I remember the foam containers the burgers came in. I remember the character pens and the promotions. I remember another McDonald’s at Figtree near Wollongong.

    Strangely, I don’t have the same childhood memories of McDonald’s in Nowra, where I grew up.

    The restaurants that stuck in my memory were the ones associated with going somewhere.

    McDonald’s wasn’t simply somewhere you stopped because you couldn’t be bothered cooking dinner.

    It was a treat.

    McDonald’s had only arrived in Australia in 1971, when its first Australian restaurant opened at Yagoona in western Sydney. From there, those Golden Arches gradually became part of the Australian landscape.

    But somewhere between my childhood and adulthood, something changed.

    McDonald’s became Macca’s.


    So Where Did “Macca’s” Come From?

    There doesn’t appear to be one magical moment when the entire Australian population held a meeting and voted to rename McDonald’s.

    It happened much more naturally than that.

    And by the time I was working, I remember Macca’s being completely normal.

    “Mate, let’s do a Macca’s run on the way home.”

    “Let’s stop at Macca’s on the way.”

    Nobody had to explain what Macca’s was.

    It was simply what we called it.

    The nickname fits perfectly into one of the great peculiarities of Australian English: we shorten absolutely everything.

    Afternoon becomes arvo.

    Service station becomes servo.

    Bottle shop becomes bottle-o.

    Breakfast becomes brekkie.

    Barbecue becomes barbie.

    David becomes Davo.

    McDonald’s?

    Macca’s.

    McDonalds signage in Australia rebranded as Maccas

    To demonstrate just how far this can go, here’s a perfectly reasonable Australian sentence:

    “Chuck a U-ey down here, we’ll grab some Macca’s and then hit the bottle-o before we go to Davo’s for a barbie.”

    To an Australian, there is nothing particularly remarkable about that sentence.

    To an American, I may have just suffered a stroke.


    Why Do Australians Shorten Everything?

    There are linguistic explanations for the Australian obsession with abbreviations, but I think there’s something cultural going on as well.

    Australians are generally pretty informal.

    There’s a laid back attitude to language and perhaps a little bit of cheekiness in taking the proper name for something and deciding we’re going to call it something else.

    Maybe there’s even a touch of our reluctance to conform.

    You can tell us the restaurant is called McDonald’s.

    That’s lovely.

    We’re calling it Macca’s.

    There’s also something strangely affectionate about an Australian nickname.

    We do it to our friends.

    We do it to our towns.

    We do it to occupations.

    We do it to everyday objects.

    So perhaps one of the signs that McDonald’s had truly embedded itself into Australian culture was that we stopped bothering to use its proper name.

    We gave it a nickname instead.


    McDonald’s Eventually Gave In

    This is my favourite part of the story.

    McDonald’s didn’t try to correct Australians.

    Eventually, it embraced the name.

    By 2012, research commissioned by McDonald’s found that 55 percent of Australians surveyed called the company Macca’s. The nickname was so recognizable that it ranked just behind “footy” among the Australian abbreviations included in the research.

    McDonald’s even pushed for Macca’s to be included in the Macquarie Dictionary.

    Then, in January 2013, it went considerably further.

    As part of an Australia Day campaign, 13 McDonald’s restaurants around Australia temporarily replaced their regular McDonald’s signage with signs saying Macca’s.

    Not just in an advertisement.

    On the actual restaurants.

    Locations including Bondi Beach, Engadine and other stores around the country suddenly had Macca’s written where one of the world’s most recognizable corporate names would normally be.

    The signs eventually changed back.

    The nickname didn’t.

    Today, McDonald’s Australia doesn’t merely tolerate Macca’s. It routinely uses the name itself.

    Its app is called MyMacca’s.

    Its Australian website has a section called Macca’s Story.

    Official press releases tell Australians to head into their local Macca’s.

    An Australian nickname for an American company effectively became part of the company’s Australian identity.


    Macca’s in Australia Isn’t Quite McDonald’s in America

    Living in America has made me notice something else.

    Macca’s doesn’t just have a different name.

    It tastes different.

    I find the Australian beef nicer, and overall the Australian product has always seemed fresher to me.

    There’s some substance behind the Australian ingredient difference too. McDonald’s Australia says its beef is Australian, and during its 50th anniversary celebrations the company said its beef, chicken, potatoes, wheat flour, lettuce and tomatoes were locally sourced.

    Australia has also had menu items Americans don’t necessarily recognize.

    The McOz, for example, arrived on the Australian menu in 1999. It’s the sort of burger that immediately announces where it comes from, most famously through that very Australian hamburger ingredient: beetroot.

    McOz burger from McDonald's Australia

    Breakfast is broadly familiar on both sides of the Pacific, although living in the American South has introduced me to something you won’t find on a normal Australian Macca’s breakfast menu:

    Biscuits.

    Not Australian biscuits.

    American biscuits.

    That’s an entirely different article.

    Biscuits are on the menu at McDonalds in the American south

    Some things, however, apparently transcend international borders.

    The ice cream machines break in Australia too.

    Humanity remains united.


    Try Calling It Macca’s in America

    Of course, the problem with Australian slang is that you don’t always realize something is Australian slang until you leave Australia.

    I remember Nikki and I talking about Macca’s in front of someone here in America once.

    We were happily having a conversation.

    The other person was looking at us blankly.

    Macca’s?

    What on earth were we talking about?

    That was one of those little expat moments when you suddenly realize a word that requires absolutely no explanation in one country can be almost meaningless in another.

    These days, living in America, I obviously hear “McDonald’s” far more than I hear Macca’s.

    My kids call it McDonald’s.

    They know perfectly well what Macca’s means because they’ve heard us use it, but it isn’t naturally the word they reach for.

    For me, it’s the opposite.

    In my head, it’s still Macca’s.


    The Funny Thing Is, Australians Barely Notice It

    When I go back to Australia now, hearing the word Macca’s doesn’t jump out at me.

    Neither does seeing it in advertising.

    It’s simply part of the scenery.

    That’s probably the best indication of how deeply the nickname has embedded itself into Australian English.

    It doesn’t feel like slang.

    It doesn’t feel like someone trying to sound Australian.

    It certainly doesn’t need translating.

    It’s just Macca’s.

    And I like that McDonald’s embraced it.

    One of the world’s biggest American brands arrived in Australia in 1971. Australians adopted it, grew up with it and eventually decided its name was too formal.

    So we gave it a nickname.

    McDonald’s could have spent millions insisting on consistent global branding.

    Instead, eventually, it effectively said:

    Fair enough.

    Macca’s it is.

    Modern Macca's McDonald's restaurant in Australia

    Macca’s Is One of Those Little Pieces of Home

    Living overseas changes your relationship with words like this.

    When you’re in Australia, Macca’s isn’t special.

    It’s a fast food restaurant.

    It’s somewhere you stop on a road trip. Somewhere you grab breakfast. Somewhere you swing through on the way home from work.

    It’s part of the background.

    But once you live somewhere else, these tiny pieces of language start to mean a little more.

    Macca’s reminds me of childhood trips home from Sydney Airport and stopping at Sans Souci.

    It reminds me of foam burger containers and character pens.

    Later, it became Macca’s runs after work.

    Today, my American kids know exactly what I mean when I say Macca’s, even though they’ll answer me by calling it McDonald’s.

    It’s a tiny difference.

    But that’s often how home works when you live overseas.

    Not through the enormous things you expect to miss.

    Sometimes it’s just a word you’ve been saying for decades.

    And somewhere in the back of my head, no matter how long I live in America, those Golden Arches will probably always be Macca’s.

  • Why American Chinese Food Tastes So Different (An Australian Explains)

    Why American Chinese Food Tastes So Different (An Australian Explains)

    One of the biggest surprises after moving from Australia to America wasn’t the supermarkets, the roads or even the accents.

    It was Chinese food.

    American Chinese food and Australian Chinese food share the same roots, but over more than a century they’ve evolved into two very different cuisines. The dishes, sauces, flavours and even the menus are often completely different.

    After living in America for eight years—and growing up in Australia—I still notice those differences every time I order takeaway.

    And perhaps the strangest part?

    I didn’t expect Chinese food to be one of the things I’d miss most.


    Australian Chinese takeaway containers

    When I first arrived in America, I expected plenty of culture shock.

    The supermarkets.

    The enormous cars.

    The accents.

    The friendliness.

    Chinese food never even crossed my mind.

    Within my first few weeks, I ordered what I thought would be a familiar takeaway dinner.

    Instead, I discovered something I hadn’t expected.

    The flavours were completely different.

    Not bad.

    Just…different.

    It was one of those moments that makes you realise you’ve carried assumptions halfway around the world without knowing it.


    Then I Started Seeing Dishes I’d Only Heard About On TV

    One of the funniest moments was seeing Kung Pao Chicken on an actual menu.

    I’d heard Americans mention it for years in television shows like Friends.

    I honestly wasn’t sure whether it was a real dish or simply one of those American pop culture references I’d never experienced.

    Turns out…

    It’s very real.

    And it’s everywhere.

    Meanwhile, I couldn’t find many of the dishes I’d grown up ordering in Australia.

    Close-up of Kung Pao Chicken
    One of the first dishes that made me realise American Chinese food had its own identity.

    The Australian Chinese Dishes I Miss Most

    Australian Chinese takeaway has become its own cuisine.

    Growing up, these were the dishes I expected to see on almost every menu.

    Honey Chicken is probably the biggest one for me.

    I don’t think I’ve ever found an American version that tastes like the one I grew up eating.

    Even the fried rice surprised me.

    Australian fried rice and American fried rice look different, taste different and have completely different flavour profiles.

    It’s amazing how something as simple as fried rice can instantly remind you which country you’re in.

    Chicken and Ham Roll
    Chicken and Ham rolls are my favourite Aussie Chinese dish

    American Chinese Dishes Australians Rarely Grow Up With

    On the other hand, America has its own classics.

    Some of the dishes that became completely normal here were things I barely remember seeing back home.

    For Americans, these are comfort foods.

    For me, they were entirely new discoveries.

    Beef with Broccoli Chinese meal
    Beef with Broccoli, an American Chinese favourite

    Why They’re So Different

    The interesting part is that neither version is more “correct.”

    Both Australia and America were shaped by different waves of Chinese immigration.

    Chinese cooks adapted recipes using local ingredients and local tastes.

    Australia’s Chinese takeaway culture has deep roots in the Cantonese communities that arrived during the gold rush era. Over generations it became part of suburban Australia, often appearing alongside local pubs and RSL clubs.

    America followed its own path.

    Its Chinese restaurants created dishes specifically for American tastes, producing favourites like General Tso’s Chicken and Orange Chicken.

    In other words…

    Australia didn’t copy America.

    America didn’t copy Australia.

    Both countries created their own version of Chinese takeaway.

    Australian Chinese Restaurant in Nowra Australia
    Leongs Chinese Restaurant in Nowra Australia

    There’s Another Reason I Notice These Differences

    My first job in high school was as a kitchen hand in a Chinese restaurant.

    I washed dishes.

    Helped prepare vegetables.

    Learned how some of the sauces were made.

    Looking back, it became an unexpected stepping stone towards eventually becoming a qualified chef.

    So when I notice differences between Australian and American Chinese food, I’m not just comparing takeaway menus.

    I’ve also spent time behind the scenes watching how one version of that cuisine was prepared.

    Chinese restaurant kitchen
    Chinese Restaurant kitchens are fast paced

    The Moment I Realised What I Actually Missed

    Last year we travelled back to Australia.

    Something funny happened.

    We ate Chinese food more than almost anything else.

    Not because we’d missed Chinese food.

    We’d been eating Chinese food in America for years.

    We’d missed Australian Chinese food.

    The Honey Chicken.

    The fried rice.

    The familiar flavours.

    It wasn’t until we’d been away for years that I realised those Friday-night takeaway dinners had quietly become part of what “home” tasted like.


    Final Thoughts

    Before moving overseas, I expected to miss beaches, family and Australian coffee.

    I never imagined I’d spend years craving Honey Chicken.

    Living in another country has taught me something surprising.

    It’s often the smallest traditions that become the strongest reminders of home.

    Sometimes that’s a favourite bakery.

    Sometimes it’s a supermarket.

    And sometimes…

    It’s the particular way your local Chinese restaurant made fried rice.


    FAQ

    Is American Chinese food authentic?

    American Chinese food is authentic to the Chinese-American communities that created it. Like Australian Chinese food, it evolved over generations using local ingredients and local tastes.

    Why doesn’t American Chinese food taste the same as Australian Chinese food?

    The recipes developed independently for different customers over many decades, resulting in different sauces, dishes and flavours.

    Does Australia have General Tso’s Chicken?

    It’s much less common than in America. Australian Chinese restaurants typically feature different signature dishes.

    What Australian Chinese dishes can’t you usually find in America?

    Honey Chicken, Chicken and Ham Rolls, Australian-style Lemon Chicken and some versions of fried rice are much harder to find.

  • Why Do Australians Say “Mate”? It Doesn’t Always Mean Friend

    Why Do Australians Say “Mate”? It Doesn’t Always Mean Friend

    Australians say mate because it’s more than just a word. It’s a greeting, a thank you, a sign of friendship, a warning, a term of affection, and sometimes all five at once.

    Eight years after moving to America, I still say it dozens of times a day.

    “Cheers, mate.”

    “Thanks, mate.”

    “No worries, mate.”

    “See ya, mate.”

    Now the people that know are plenty used to it by now but those that don’t always pause for a split second when they hear it. You can almost see them translating it in real time.

    Then it clicks.

    Oh right.

    He’s Australian.

    The funny thing is that I don’t even notice I’m saying it anymore.

    It’s one of those habits that survived the move. My accent has softened a little over the years. I’ve learned to say gas station instead of servo. I’ve stopped confusing cashiers by handing over exact change and expecting them to appreciate it.

    Why Living Overseas Changes How You Hear Accents

    But mate never left.


    Mate Doesn’t Mean What Americans Think It Means

    One of the biggest misconceptions is that Australians call everyone mate because we’re all best friends.

    That’s not really how it works.

    I’ve called complete strangers mate. Shop assistants have called me mate. Taxi drivers, tradies, neighbours, and random blokes I’ve met for thirty seconds have all used it.

    It’s less about friendship and more about familiarity.

    It’s a way of saying, “We’re alright. Let’s keep this simple.”

    One of my closest friends here in Tennessee is Mexican.

    Years ago she started saying mate back to me.

    These days I call her matey and she calls me mate.

    Neither of us are using it correctly anymore, but we’ve committed to it so heavily that there’s no turning back now.

    Australians drinking at the pub
    In Australia, “mate” is often less about friendship and more about familiarity and connection.

    Not Everyone Gets Called Mate

    Despite what Hollywood might suggest, Australians don’t call absolutely everyone mate.

    There are situations where it fits and situations where it doesn’t.

    When I worked in banking, I wasn’t walking into meetings with ambassadors and saying, “G’day mate.”

    That would have been a very short diplomatic meeting.

    In Australia, mate is often a social leveler.

    It works best when people are meeting as equals.

    Tradies use it.

    Country Australians use it.

    Blokes leaning on fences use it.

    People standing around a barbecue use it.

    It strips away a bit of formality and makes the conversation feel more relaxed.

    Things Americans Think Are Normal (That Still Confuse Me After 8 Years)

    That’s one reason Australians often sound more casual than we actually are.


    The Same Word Can Also Start an Argument

    Of course, Australians have found a way to make the word mean the complete opposite too.

    Tone matters.

    “Thanks, mate.”

    Friendly.

    “Good to see you, mate.”

    Friendly.

    “Listen here, mate…”

    Not friendly.

    Nobody in Australian history has ever heard the words “Listen here, mate” and thought something positive was about to follow.

    The same goes for:

    “Pull your head in, mate.”

    Or the classic Alf Stewart line from Home and Away:

    “You’re a bit of a drongo, mate.”

    Australians have somehow managed to turn one of our friendliest words into a warning system.

    It’s actually quite impressive when you think about it.


    Why I Still Say It

    I’ve lived in America long enough now that some Australian habits have faded.

    Others haven’t.

    Mate is one of the ones that stuck.

    Partly because it’s habit.

    Partly because it feels natural.

    But if I’m being honest, there’s probably another reason too.

    The person who used the word most in my life wasn’t a tradie, a farmer, or one of my mates at the pub.

    It was my mum.

    Every phone call started the same way.

    “Hi mate.”

    Or sometimes:

    “Love you, mate.”

    I was telling my daughters about that the other day.

    The Moment I Realised My Children Belong in America

    How normal it felt at the time.

    It was something I never thought twice about it.

    How I never imagined I’d miss hearing a single word so much.

    Looking back, I think that’s why Australians keep using it.

    Yes, it’s friendly.

    It’s a social leveler.

    Yes, it’s part of our culture.

    But it’s also a word that carries connection.

    It’s a word we use with friends, family, workmates, neighbours, and sometimes complete strangers.

    Somehow Australians found a way to squeeze friendship, affection, gratitude, sarcasm, and belonging into four letters.

    Not bad, mate.

  • What Is a Servo in Australia? It’s Not Quite an American Gas Station

    What Is a Servo in Australia? It’s Not Quite an American Gas Station

    What is a servo in Australia? A servo is the Australian word for a gas station or petrol station. It’s one of those everyday Australian terms that can completely confuse Americans the first time they hear it.

    When I first moved to America, I quickly learned that what Australians call a servo, Americans call a gas station.

    The funny thing is that Australians use the word so casually that we often forget it’s slang.

    “Just pulling into the servo.”

    “Need anything from the servo?”

    “The servo down the road has cheaper fuel.”

    To an Australian, those sentences sound completely normal. To an American, they can sound like we’re talking about some mysterious piece of machinery.

    Why Do Australians Call It a Servo?

    The word servo is simply a shortened version of service station.

    Australians love shortening words. In fact, it’s almost a national hobby.

    We don’t just have:

    • Servo (service station)
    • Arvo (afternoon)
    • Bottle-o (liquor store)
    • Macca’s (McDonald’s)
    • Rego (vehicle registration)

    We shorten so many words that sometimes visitors feel like they’re learning a second language.

    A service station became a servo, and the name stuck.

    What Happens at a Servo?

    Meat Pie

    Traditionally, a servo was a place to buy petrol and maybe get basic vehicle services.

    Today, Australian servos are much more like American gas stations.

    Most have:

    • Fuel pumps
    • Convenience stores
    • Soft drinks and snacks
    • Coffee machines
    • Ice
    • Toilets
    • Basic automotive supplies

    Some larger servos have surprisingly good food.

    On long road trips across Australia, stopping at a servo is often part of the journey. You fill the tank, grab a meat pie, buy a drink, and stretch your legs before heading back onto the highway.

    • Buying meat pies in the US is so difficult! Here’s a bumper sticker for those of you who want to start spreading the word here on how good they are!

    Servo vs Gas Station

    Although they serve the same purpose, there are a few language differences between Australia and America.

    AustraliaUnited States
    ServoGas station
    PetrolGas
    Fill up the tankFill up the tank
    Unleaded petrolRegular gas
    Service stationGas station

    The first time someone in America asked me where I got gas, I nearly answered, “At the servo.”

    Then I remembered that nobody around me would have any idea what I meant.

    Do Australians Ever Say Gas Station?

    Not usually.

    Most Australians say either servo, service station or petrol station.

    If you said “gas station” in Australia, people would understand you, largely because of American movies and television, but it would sound distinctly American.

    It’s similar to how Australians understand words like “sidewalk” or “apartment,” even though we would normally say “footpath” and “unit.”

    One of Australia’s Most Recognisable Words

    Servo is one of those words that instantly identifies someone as Australian.

    The moment an Australian abroad says, “I need to stop at the servo,” other Australians know exactly where they’re from.

    It’s a small word, but it’s part of a much larger Australian habit of shortening everyday language and turning ordinary words into nicknames.

    And once you’ve spent enough time around Australians, you’ll probably find yourself saying it too.

    If you’ve ever wondered what is a servo in Australia, the answer is simple: it’s the Australian term for a gas station or petrol station.

    Hoo roo maties.

  • The Small Things Australians Miss After Moving to America

    The Small Things Australians Miss After Moving to America

    You think the big things will be what you miss when you move overseas.

    Family. Friends. Familiar places.

    And you do miss those things.

    But honestly… some of the strongest homesickness hits come from standing in an American supermarket looking for chicken salt.

    Or opening a packet of “Australian-style” lollies and realising they just don’t taste right.

    I’ve lived in America for around eight years now, and over time I’ve realised that home slowly becomes a collection of tiny things.

    Little routines. Familiar foods. Smells. Phrases.

    Small comforts that quietly remind you who you are.


    Australian food care packages for expat overseas
    A typical care package from Australia never lasts long in our house.

    Vegemite Becomes a Survival Item

    We go through a lot of Vegemite in our house.

    We normally keep four or five jars in the cupboard at any given time.
    I have it most mornings on toast, and both of our girls love it too. Nikki’s mum sends it to us in bulk from Australia, so at any given moment there are usually four or five jars sitting in the cupboard like emergency supplies.

    If we ever got down to one jar, I’d probably start rationing it.

    Americans are fascinated by Vegemite too. Whenever friends come over, it eventually turns into:
    “Alright then… let’s see you try it.”

    The reactions are usually dramatic. But for Australians overseas, Vegemite isn’t really about the taste anymore. It’s familiarity. It’s routine. It’s sitting at the kitchen table in the morning feeling, for a few minutes at least, like you’re back home again.

    I talked more about the strange experience of keeping an Australian identity while living overseas in this article:


    Allens snake lollies

    Australian Road Trips Just Feel Different

    One of the things I never expected to miss was Australian road trip culture.

    Growing up, road trips for us usually meant driving from Canberra to the coast, or inland to see Nikki’s family in Griffith. And before every trip, there was always the same ritual.

    Fill up the car.

    Go into the servo.

    Buy a bag of Allen’s snakes, maybe some other lollies, and drinks for the drive.

    There was something oddly comforting about it.

    Now, in America, we’ve replaced that ritual with Buc-ee’s stops.

    And honestly? Buc-ee’s is incredible.

    Australia has absolutely nothing like it.

    But even now, grabbing nuts or lunch at Buc-ee’s still doesn’t quite hit the same emotional note as buying a bag of snakes before heading down the highway in Australia.

    Part of that is because the lollies here just aren’t the same. The snakes are too sweet. Even the Cadbury chocolate tastes different because the version sold here is British Cadbury, not Australian Cadbury. You don’t realise how specific your memories are until you try to recreate them somewhere else.

    Every now and then we’ll order a mixed Australian lolly box online just because we are feeling homesick.

    • I’ve spoken before about how living overseas slowly changes the way you think, sound and even remember home, the below video is a great example of that.

    Care Packages Mean More Than You’d Think

    Care packages from Australia hit differently when you live overseas.

    Nikki’s mum sends boxes over for us and the girls, usually packed with Australian food, little gifts, chocolates, random surprises… and somehow it always feels bigger than just “stuff.”

    australian care package sent to expat overseas

    One year my old workplace in Australia sent us a huge Christmas box filled with Australian snacks, games, soccer balls, all sorts of things.

    It honestly felt like someone had posted a piece of Australia directly to our front door.

    And for the girls, it’s not even necessarily the food they love most.

    It’s knowing that Nanna packed it.

    That connection matters.

    I will admit though that they always beat me to the Caramello Koalas, they barely last a few days.


    Australian Bakeries Overseas Are Usually Disappointing

    This might upset a few people, but Australian bakeries overseas are almost always disappointing.

    We’ve been to Australian bakeries in America — including one in Atlanta that’s pretty good — but it’s still not quite the same.

    There’s also an Australian-owned café near us in Tennessee that sells meat pies and sausage rolls.

    Again… not even close to home.

    The funny thing is, the first thing I want when I land back in Australia isn’t anything fancy.

    It’s a bakery stop.

    A sausage roll.

    A meat pie.

    A vanilla slice.

    And an iced coffee Dare.

    That’s home.

    I make my own sausage rolls here now because sometimes it’s easier than trying to recreate the feeling through substitutes. We buy Jamaican meat pies and chicken pasties occasionally too, and while they’re definitely not Australian pies, they scratch a similar itch. Close enough becomes an important concept when you live overseas.


    Smells Become Emotional Time Machines

    Smell might actually be the strongest trigger of all.

    The bush after rain.

    Gum trees.

    The ocean.

    Jervis Bay National Park Australia

    Sunscreen.

    That hot Australian air right before a storm rolls in.

    Sometimes you’ll randomly smell something in America that takes you straight back to Australia for half a second before reality catches up again.

    It’s strange how powerful that can be. Even thinking about it now makes me a bit homesick.


    Watching Your Kids Grow Up Between Two Cultures

    One of the strangest parts of living overseas long term is watching your kids slowly become a blend of both countries.

    We still celebrate Australia Day at home, although having a barbecue in January is a bit harder when there’s snow outside in Tennessee.

    I try teaching the girls Aussie slang too.

    “How’s it goin’ mate.”
    “Yeah nah.”
    “No worries.”

    And Georgia especially will switch between Australian and American words or accents depending on who she’s talking to.

    It’s fascinating to watch.

    Because in some ways, that’s exactly what living overseas feels like yourself. You slowly become a mix of places.


    The Small Things Matter More Than You Expect

    I think that’s the biggest surprise about moving overseas.

    Home stops being one giant thing.

    It becomes little things.

    A jar of Vegemite in the cupboard.

    A care package from family.

    A bag of snakes before a road trip.

    A bakery stop after a long flight.

    A phrase your kids still say with an Australian accent.

    Tiny things that remind you who you were before life got complicated.

    And maybe that’s why Australians overseas hold onto those small comforts so tightly. Because sometimes the smallest things are the ones that make a place feel like home again.


    If you enjoy these Australia vs America reflections, I also talk about them regularly over on the podcast and YouTube channel:

  • What Americans Always Ask Australians (And What They’re Really Getting At)

    What Americans Always Ask Australians (And What They’re Really Getting At)

    There’s a moment that happens pretty quickly when you move overseas.

    Someone hears your accent…
    pauses for half a second…
    and then decides to ask something.

    Not always the same thing.

    But close enough.

    After a while, you start to recognise the pattern —
    and not just the questions themselves,
    but it’s what’s sitting underneath them.

    Because it’s not really curiosity about Australia.

    It’s someone trying to work out…
    who you are.

    Where you fit.

    What’s different.
    What’s familiar.

    And I’ve realised over time —
    I’ve done exactly the same thing in reverse.


    The animal question always comes first

    It usually opens with some version of:

    “Doesn’t everything in Australia want to kill you?”

    Spiders. Snakes. Sharks.

    Sometimes all three in the same sentence.

    And the answer is… not really.

    We’re not navigating daily life like it’s a survival show.

    But there are small habits that probably sound strange if you didn’t grow up with them.

    Like checking your shoes before putting them on.

    Quick shake. Done.

    It’s not fear.
    It’s just… normal.

    What surprised me later was realising how relative that is.

    The first time I saw a bear here in Tennessee, I stopped and stared like it was something out of a documentary.

    Meanwhile, everyone else just… kept moving.


    The moment your accent stops working

    There’s a second phase that comes after the animal question.

    It’s quieter.

    Usually just one word:

    “Huh?”

    Drive-throughs are where it shows up the most.

    Something about the speaker, the speed, the expectation — it just doesn’t line up.

    You repeat yourself. Slow it down. Try again.

    Sometimes it clicks.

    Sometimes it doesn’t.

    And occasionally… it’s easier to change restaurants than change your accent.

    It’s not frustration, really.

    More like a reminder that language isn’t just words — it’s rhythm, tone, familiarity.


    Then come the questions that reveal assumptions

    Some questions aren’t really about information.

    They’re about what people have already been told.


    “Do you celebrate Thanksgiving?”

    We don’t have anything like it in Australia.

    But it’s become one of my favourite parts of living here.

    There’s something about the simplicity of it.

    No presents. No expectations.

    Just food, time, and people staying a little longer than usual.

    The conversations tend to drift a bit deeper.

    The pace softens.

    It feels… intentional.

    It’s one of those things you don’t realise you’re missing until you experience it.


    👉Read more: Is American Friendliness Real or Fake?

    👉 The Ultimate Thanksgiving Cookbook


    “Does the water spin the other way?”

    This one sits somewhere between science and myth.

    And for a moment, it actually made me question my own memory.

    Like… have I just never noticed this?

    But no.

    Water just goes down the drain.

    Same as everywhere else.

    I’ve found the easiest way to handle it is confidence.

    “It’s the Coriolis effect.”

    No explanation.

    Just enough certainty to move things along.


    “Do you speak English in Australia?”

    I usually say:

    “Nah, picked it up when I got here.”

    There’s always a brief pause while that lands.

    And then the realisation.

    But in fairness — it goes both ways.

    There are accents here I still struggle with.

    Moments where I’ve had to stop and think:

    “…that’s English, is it?”

    It’s not about intelligence.

    It’s just exposure.


    The question that’s really about you

    At some point, the tone shifts slightly.

    The question becomes more personal.

    “Why would you move here from Australia?”

    Sometimes I joke about the emu war.

    Sometimes I don’t.

    Because the real answer isn’t dramatic.

    I just wanted to experience something different.

    But living somewhere else does something you don’t expect.

    It makes you notice things you never paid attention to before.

    About the place you moved to.

    And about the place you came from.


    👉 Read more: This Week in America: Warmth, Friendship & Cultural Differences


    The version of Australia people carry in their head

    A lot of the questions come from a very specific picture of Australia.

    Hot. Flat. Beaches. Outback.

    So when you mention snow… it throws people.

    But it does snow.

    Not everywhere. Not often.

    But enough to shift that image slightly.

    Australia isn’t one thing.

    It’s just the version people have seen is usually the simplest one.


    And then there are the lines that never quite go away

    “Put a shrimp on the barbie.”

    It still comes up.

    Usually with a smile.

    And to be fair… I get it.

    Every country has those phrases that travel further than reality.

    I’ll normally just say:

    “We call them prawns.”

    And that’s usually enough.


    What I’ve come to realise

    After a while, the questions matter less.

    You stop hearing them as literal.

    And start hearing what they’re really about.

    Someone noticing something unfamiliar…
    and trying to make sense of it.

    The same way I’ve done here.

    Just in reverse.


    🎬 If you prefer watching this instead


    A quieter reflection

    If you enjoy these small moments — the things you don’t notice until you do —
    I talk about them more in my weekly podcast:

    👉 This Week in America

    It’s a bit looser.
    More like a conversation than a video.


    Final thought

    Living overseas doesn’t change who you are.

    It just removes the shortcuts.

    And suddenly, things you never questioned before…
    become visible.

    Thanks for reading. Hoo roo maties.


  • When School Starts to Feel Like HR (An Aussie Perspective)

    When School Starts to Feel Like HR (An Aussie Perspective)

    This week, something happened that made me pause.

    Not because it was dramatic.
    And not because anyone had done anything wrong.

    It was just… one of those moments where two different systems quietly collided.


    The Email

    Earlier this week, I received an email from Georgia’s school.

    The subject line was about attendance.

    Apparently, she’s had five unexcused absences this year—and because of that, I now have to attend a meeting with the principal and the school counsellor.

    The interesting part is… I don’t actually know what the five absences are yet.

    That comes later. In a letter. From the state.

    The email itself didn’t explain anything. It just said we’d crossed a threshold—and now a conversation needs to happen.

    And when I read it, my first reaction wasn’t confusion.

    It was recognition.


    I Knew This System Immediately

    I spent 25 years working in banking.

    And almost instantly, I knew exactly what I was looking at.

    This wasn’t really a school system.

    It was an HR system.

    Track the events.
    Log them.
    Wait for the threshold.

    Then trigger the process.

    • Informal conversation
    • Formal conversation
    • Documentation

    Except this time… the “employee” is ten years old.

    And if you’ve ever worked inside structured systems like that, you’ll recognise the feeling straight away — that moment where you stop and go, ah… I know exactly how this is going to play out.

    This Is Something I’ve Noticed More Over Time

    This wasn’t the first time I’d had that feeling.

    It’s something I’ve noticed more and more the longer I’ve lived in America — the way everyday situations are quietly shaped by systems underneath.

    Because it’s the same underlying pattern — structure first, human interpretation second.

    If you’ve seen that video, you’ll recognise it here too.


    What Actually Counts as “Absent”?

    Now I do know a couple of the days they’re probably referring to.

    One of them was when I picked Georgia up early so we could drive five hours to a dance competition.

    If you’re a dance parent, you’ll recognise that rhythm immediately.

    Long drives. Early starts. Costumes packed the night before.

    If you’re in that world, this is actually one of the best things we’ve ended up relying on for comp weekends:

    Because none of that fits neatly into a school system.

    But the system doesn’t see any of that.

    That absence wasn’t excused.


    The Five-Minute Absence

    Another one?

    She arrived about five minutes late one morning.

    At her school, if you’re late, you don’t just walk into class—you check in through the front office.

    And once that happens…

    It’s logged.

    Now that five-minute delay sits in the same column as a full-day absence.

    Not because it’s the same thing.

    But because the system records entries—not meaning.


    Where It Starts to Feel… Mechanical

    And this is the part that stood out.

    The system isn’t designed to interpret context.

    It’s designed to record events.

    • Late arrival → logged
    • Early departure → logged
    • Absence → logged

    Once the number hits a certain point…

    The process activates.

    That’s when the email arrives.

    That’s when the meeting gets scheduled.

    And suddenly something that feels like normal life…

    Feels procedural.


    I’ve Seen This Before — In a Completely Different Way

    Earlier this year, I applied for a role with Child Protective Services.

    It was something I genuinely felt drawn to.

    After years in banking — dealing with fraud, scams, and vulnerable customers — it felt like a natural extension of that work.

    The idea of helping protect children felt meaningful.

    I went through the process.

    And I was offered the job.

    But there was one problem.

    I don’t have a university degree.


    When Systems Ask a Different Question

    It didn’t matter what I’d done.

    It didn’t matter the experience.

    Because the system wasn’t asking:

    “What has he done?”

    It was asking:

    “What box does he tick?”

    And once again…

    I recognised the structure immediately.


    This Is What Living Between Systems Feels Like

    This is something that becomes clearer the longer you live between countries.

    Not the obvious differences.

    The subtle ones.

    Because this is exactly what that feels like.

    Not big cultural shocks.

    Just small, revealing moments.


    It’s Not About Right or Wrong

    To be fair—these systems exist for good reasons.

    Schools need to track attendance.

    There are real situations where children are missing school for serious reasons.

    Structure helps identify those situations.

    The same way hiring requirements create consistency.

    It’s not broken.

    It’s just… structured.


    But It Creates These Moments

    Because every now and then…

    The system and real life don’t quite line up.

    A five-hour drive to a dance competition becomes an attendance issue.

    A five-minute delay becomes an absence.

    And normal life starts to feel like it’s being processed.


    If You’ve Noticed This Too

    This is one of those patterns that keeps showing up in different ways.

    👉 You’ll see the same idea here:
    American Goodbyes

    👉 And here:
    American Politness

    Different situations.

    Same underlying structure.


    A Quick Note

    If you enjoy these kinds of reflections — the small, in-between moments that don’t usually get talked about —

    you can support the channel here:

    👉 https://buymeacoffee.com/fromdownundertodownsouth


    One of Those “Ah… I See” Moments

    Nothing dramatic happened this week.

    No one got in trouble.

    It was just the system…

    Doing exactly what it was designed to do.

    Recording events.
    Triggering processes.
    Asking for a conversation.

    And every now and then—

    You see that system clearly enough…

    That it makes you stop.

    And think.


    👉 If you prefer listening instead of reading, the full podcast lives here:
    https://fromdownundertodownsouth.com/listen/