Another year, another Australia Day. Maybe it’s just me, but when you live overseas you suddenly become unbelievably patriotic. Celebrating Aussie Day in Australia just seems so passé really. But when you are half way around the world, being with your own kind and singing “I come from a land Down Under” at the top of your voice is the coolest thing in the world. I guess when you are miles away home, you miss the sense of family and identity – so sharing a drunken evening with a bunch of strangers who all have nothing in common except that they all come from the same country is as close to family as you can get. (As an aside, I have to say I was greatly offended during my 6 years in NZ by the fact that New Zealanders all get drunk and sing “Down Under” too – like the song is referring to them … it’s not you bastards! It’s for Australians only thanks, even if you do want to be like us.)
Bring on the hate mail. As I said, I lived there for 6 years. I can take it.
But here in LA, to be an Aussie is still seen by the locals as a wondrous thing. You would think that the bubble had burst years ago. That the novelty of an Australian in LA disappeared when Hoges stopped throwing another shrimp on the barbie. Or when Russell stopped throwing another phone at a concierge. (Isn’t it funny that when he wins an Oscar he’s Australian. When he lands in jail he’s a New Zealander. We disown wankerism, no matter who you are.) But we Aussies just seem to keep coming up with characters and celebrities that endear us to this side of the world. And so the fascination continues.
It’s something to do with our quiet confidence coupled with a laid back demeanor. Americans talk a good game but then have to back it up. We just keep quiet and do the job like we had nothing to prove and couldn’t give a rat’s arse even if we did prove something. In New Zealand they call that the Australian arrogance. We just call it knowing what your limitations are and giving it a fair crack anyway. That’s why we love underdogs. When someone says we can’t possibly do something. We don’t argue or hype ourselves up trying to prove someone wrong – we just get on with the job. If we lose we say “yeah fair enough mate, you were right – now let’s go have a beer”. If we win we say “yeah well, I backed myself and it paid off – now let’s go have a beer”. No fanfare. Just beer.
In America every year they still have the G’day USA week leading up to Australia Day – “A chance for a showcase of entertainment, tourism and trade events to spruik Australia to the US”. This year however the G’day USA ‘Oz plays Broadway’ concert at Carnegie Hall fell at the same time as the inauguration and so it was billed as an Obama party instead. What I find amusing is that this is a tradition that goes back decades, that started when Australia really was an unknown. Although to be fair, some of the questions aimed at the likes of Hugh Jackman shows how much Americans still know don’t about Australia (“So what exactly is a Waltzing Matilda?” – seriously?) However, these days all you have to do is turn on the television here and you will see Australians everywhere doing more for this industry than a week of ‘spruiking’ could ever achieve. Simon Baker (The Mentalist), Toni Collette (The United States Of Tara), Melissa George (ER), Isla Fischer (Confessions of a Shopaholic), John Noble (Fringe), Rachel Griffiths (Brothers and Sisters), Hugh Jackman (hosting the Oscars) just to name a mere few. It’s rare these days to see a leading actor interviewed on a late night talk show that has an American accent. These days we are no longer relegated to bit parts in drama series or being the token Australian. Apparently we can do an American accent better than Amercians. Bring on the hate mail.
And so I found myself singing loudly to every Australian tune known to man in an LA pub this last Australia Day. The green and gold was out in force. Tiny little Koalas were handed around. Never has a sausage roll tasted so good. Though the pub in question did advertise “free drinks hour”. Since when has free drinks meant a shot of Southern Comfort? No one offers free drinks to an Aussie and then tells them what the restrictions are. What was hilarious was that as Australians we had a good old whinge. But drank it to excess anyway.
And the great thing is, in this town it doesn’t matter if you’ve been here 10 years or 10 days – you’re Australian. That’s all that matters. All that Vic/NSW/SA/ACT/TAS/NT/QLD rivalry goes out the window. Well maybe not QLD. Even in this part of the world everyone hates a Queenslander. Bring on the hate mail. I can take it. Most of the words will be one syllable only anyway with multiple variations of the phrase “You suck”.
Which reminds me of another oddity of being an Australian living overseas – this time again in NZ. State of Origin Rugby League. They love it over there. And there’s nothing wrong with that – it’s just that I was never prepared for the level of fanaticism – it always struck me as weird to be in a packed pub of NZers who had never set foot outside their country, all wearing QLD and NSW jerseys. I don’t mind copping abuse from a QLDer when NSW when gets beaten. Again. But seeing a 6’4″ Maori wearing a Maroon jersey, pointing at me and yelling “NSW is stink eh bro” at the top of his voice is just not right. Bring on the hate mail cuz.
And so here’s to Australia. The (one and only) land Down Under. You know, for the inauguration of Obama they came up with a song called ‘The America Song’. We would never do that. Although, maybe we should one-up them and come up with a movie titled ‘Australia’. Nah that would be too wanky. Oh wait.
Bring on the hate mail.
Ed’s note: hate mail to Mr Brad Hills is encouraged
Image of the kid eating a meat pie is by KJD on Flickr
Image of the Australian girls on the beach is by ReaE on Flickr
