A Barbecue in Winter
A festive day is fast approaching. It’s usually hot and sunny on this day and, since it’s a public holiday, you’ll most likely find me at the beach soaking up the hot summer sun and catching a wave or two in the surf.
It’s not until I hear fireworks going off later that night that it dawns on me what I’ve missed. Australia Day (the Aussie equivalent of Bastille Day). Oh well, I usually shrug, maybe I’ll catch it next year.
Australians aren’t very patriotic by nature, so I guess that’s my excuse. In fact, many of us struggle to remember what our national anthem is, let alone the words to it. The people who celebrate this patriotic day must be new citizens, right?
Maybe not! I’ve discovered two other strange sets of creatures who are oddly patriotic; tourists and expats.
The Tourists
Fast forward a few years to me living in Scotland with Yves, my other half. For five years in a row this Frenchman and I cheerfully celebrated Burn’s Night, much to the surprise of some of the locals who had never celebrated it in their life. Burn’s Night is the Scottish tribute to the poet, Robert Burns. The Scots actually herald a platter of haggis into the dining room, recite a poem (Burns’s “Ode to a Haggis”) and then proceed to stab it and eat it as they discuss poetry and sip copious amounts of whisky.
Well, in all fairness, our Scottish friends didn’t do these ghastly things until they met us. Yves and I, as diligent little tourists trying to fit in, not only jotted down the date in our calendars but actually hosted such dinner parties year after year with marked enthusiasm.
The Expatriates
When Yves and I had decided we’d killed more than our fair share of haggis, we packed up our bags and hauled ourselves off to the south of France in search of warmer climes.
I spent the months that followed grappling with a new language, a new culture and a completely different lifestyle. Now I mingle with the French on a daily basis, quite happily munching strange things like foie gras and gesiers (you don’t want to know what they are) and trying my hardest to indulge their incredible thirst for knowledge on my native Australia. The trouble is, I know so little about my own country that I keep having to divert their attention to stories about Scotland.
In the process of learning how to be French, I’m discovering a great deal about who I am and where I come from. It’s the same for any expatriate I suppose. After a while you gain a whole new perspective on your birth country and start to see yourself and your country of origin as other countries see it.
Anyway, it’s Australia Day on January 26th, and even though I got the date wrong (we’re celebrating on January 25th, Burn’s Night) and it’s just 6°c outside, I’ve decided to cast aside the haggis and push away the foie gras.
This year we’re lighting up the barbecue for a feast of Reef ‘n’ Beef. A big, juicy steak topped with avocado and prawns and washed down with a few bottles of beer in true Aussie fashion – much to the horror of my French family-in-law.