When I first came to New York - a decade ago -I was stunned when I'd hear how people talked to each other.

Sure, in Australia we don't beat around the bush, and are fairly up-front in our communications, even in the workplace. But I was completely unused to hearing the F word punctuate every second word in "discussions" between co-workers.

I remember the first time I heard two colleagues talking in the office - "F*ck you you idiot. F*ckin' shuddup and f*cking get real bitch"... and so on and so forth. They'd never speak to each other again, I thought. But the next day all was normal. And forgiven. But perhaps neither of them had given it a second thought.

On my first day at work - on Fifth Avenue, just a block or two from Saks - the Manhattan of "Breakfast at Tiffanies", a colleague took me to the deli over the road to buy lunch. We waited at the counter and when it was her turn to be served, she ordered a coffee with milk.

"Do you want skim milk?" she was asked. Where upon she SCREAMED - "Do I LOOK like I need to lose weight? Get over it!"

A bit of an over-reaction I thought.

Nowadays I wouldn't even notice such an interchange. You can say what you like here. All is instantly forgotten and forgiven.

But every now and then, I do take note. The lack of civility becomes noticeable even in New York. Like the day I was sitting opposite three very elderly New York women on the bus. One belched loudly. "Shut the f*ck up!" said her neighbour. Oh, they must be sisters, I thought. But no, it turned out that they were complete strangers. The third old lady chimed in - "Don't be rude", she said, "shut up you old bag". And then the real bickering started.

I giggled to myself, but the other passengers were oblivious to the interchange.

On another occasion I was sitting on yet another bus, on my way to work. A young woman with pink and white striped hair boarded the bus. She had no money and looked like she hadn't slept for a week. Smudged mascara and a shabby back-pack were her only accessories.

"Can anyone give me my fare?" she announced to the bus. The driver waited, drumming his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel. Eventually a passenger rummaged in her purse and handed the young woman the fare. "Don't DO that!" a man yelled. "You are encouraging those people!" "She IS NOT", another replied, "She is being kind". "I don't think so!" said another. And it was on for young and old. Everyone had an opinion which they proclaimed loudly in New York speak.

I'm used to it now. I can give insults along with the rest.

Not so my European-born husband. He normally comes home muttering about the rudeness of New Yorkers. And I'm always surprised, the behaviour being completely normal to me now.

But the other day I was surprised. In he walked from his excursion to the local supermarket. "Bloody New Yorkers" he moaned.

Nothing new about that. He's always going on about them. But then...
"I was getting my f*cking milk from the refrigerated section and this bloody New Yorker asked f*cking ME to move so HE could get his f*cking yoghurt! So I said no wait your f*cking turn. And he said I just want my f*cking yoghurt, excuse me!"

Who was this talking? Was I back at work listening to the accounts of the frustrated New York natives?

My husband went on and on and on, relating his experience in New York speak. He said, I said, he said, blah blah blah.

My normally polite husband related how he'd told the other customer to get f*cked. The man had replied in kind.

And then the punchline. My husband described how he had yelled after his opponent, "Get a brown dog up yourself yer bloody idiot!"

Has an Australian come to New York or has New York come to an Australian?

Has he assimilated? Have I?

The world is truly a wondrous place.