You Can't Have Tea for Tea!

I often lament about feeling a bit up-side-down here in the Southern Hemishphere on the occasions I find myself misunderstood to be somewhat backwards, improper or just plain odd.  Oh, yes, my good ol’ American table manners have offended, my enthusiastic expressions have (unknowingly) made me out to be a prostitute and I was shortly convinced that these people I live amongst often, very casually, found themselves completely “naked”.  Quite simply, this “English” language that has been pulled outside-in by one immigrant nation and inversely by another has left me baffled and even speechless on occasion (better to say nothing about your roommate from college than risk alluding to a fabricated lesbian one-night-stand in high school). 

For example, upon arriving to this pair of Pacific Islands it was apparent that New Zealanders, presumably for lack of revolution, drink a lot of tea. That is, more tea than your average Folgers-slugging Yank.  Noting this, responding to a casual kiwi, “What will you be having for tea?” requires a quick assessment of just how much tea you as a North American believe these people down under actually drink? Am I expected to have a pre-conceived notion or a preference regarding flavor? Must I know now if I want “English Breakfast” or “Lady Gray”? What if I want “Lemon Zinger?” what will they say? Do they have that here? Or, should I opt for retorting with a resoundingly obvious, “Ummm… tea?”. No, no, definitely no, that might be rude.

When I find myself in such a situation I often resort to a nearly-foolproof, bright and smiley, “Oh, I don’t know”…a key diagnostic that I am not entirely sure what is happening in an unfamiliar cultural confrontation. Take, for example, the following conversation:

 Farmer: “Alex, fancy a spa?”

Alex: “Oh, I don’t know”

Farmer: “Well, do you have your togs?”

Alex: “Oh…I don’t know”

But, in this specific situation, my tactics had backfired (beyond missing out on the hot tub because I didn’t have my suit).  It seemed Kiwi’s never really knew what they were having for tea, themselves! Fed up and comfortable taking the piss (Not to be confused with taking a piss or getting on this piss which, I should note, should not be confused with getting your piss on…which “doesn’t make any sense”). I was ready for it, and in the tea room no less!

Tea lady: “So, What are you having for tea?”

Alex: “Tea?”

Tea lady: “Oh, Alex, you can’t have tea for tea!”

Alex: “I can’t?”

 Turns out “tea” is actually a relatively tea-less “Dinner”. That is, not to be confused with supper, which most likely does include tea and both follows and excludes dinner all-together. It remains all very confusing and I’m slowly sussing it out and at the same time, beginning to believe in all of those times I have slipped and explained to someone that I speak American. I’m learning to speak Kiwi.