So long, America! So long, Los Angeles! I turn my back on your
congested freeways, Atkins-obsessed airwaves and concrete jungle
suburbs to return to my beautiful homeland ““ the place you
all love to call “Down Under.”
No more Starbucks at every street corner! No more absurd alcohol
consumption laws! No more waking up in the morning and seeing
George W. Bush or John Kerry on the front page of my newspaper! No
more, “What’s up, dude?” or confusion over what
combination of slap-pound greeting I should be using. (I could
never get those right anyway.)
Let me put some misconceptions to bed.
I’m really not related to the Crocodile Hunter, nor do I
know him. No, kangaroos don’t chill in my living room, my
kitchen or even in my backyard! We live in cities, not in the
outback with koalas, and Fosters is unfortunately not the only
beverage available on our continent. OK, maybe our toilets do flush
the other way. But “Down Under” isn’t our
national anthem.
It’s been an interesting stay here through college. Our
countries are so similar, and our cultures are definitely very
close. There were still those culture shock moments, though, that I
will never forget.
Like when I moved into my dorm room freshman year. My roommate,
who was a large football player, was already there. Unpacking my
belongings, I discovered his collection of CDs. The first one I saw
was by an illustrious rap artist named “C-Murder”
““ obviously a classy performer ““ and already I could
imagine that “˜C’ was supposed to stand for my name. I
was scared.
Or the first time I opened my mouth to say something at a party,
and every girl within earshot suddenly found me 10 times more
interesting. I don’t even have that strong of an accent! It
was strange, but in a good way. It helped me convince a girl one
evening at USC that I played for the Australian national basketball
team, shooting “mad three-pointers.” Then again, I
guess that’s no real accomplishment.
Things have turned out for the best, and now I return to Sydney
for hot Decembers and long afternoons of barbecuing on the beach.
Back to a place lacking any real worldly significance and far away
from the realities of international politics.
But ““ I guess there are some things I will miss. Yeah,
like those days spent at the Rose Bowl watching the Bruins,
tailgating parties and the ritual trips after the games to eat
pizza at Georgee’s in La Canada. That’s some good
pizza.
And of course, your great sports. There’s nothing like
watching Kobe Bryant hitting a three at the buzzer ““ and
I’m not even a Lakers fan.
And there is definitely something about you American girls.
Bloody oath, mate ““ what do they put in the water here? I
will surely be flying back halfway across the world to see you
girls! Little did you all know I loved your accents too. Forever
you will have a piece of my heart.
Wow, come to think of it, there are so many more things I am
going to miss ““ beautiful weather, driving on the right side
of the road, watching SportsCenter late at night, and even being
assaulted on my way to class on Bruin Walk.
So long, America. But before I leave, let me tell you my little
secret.
Underneath it all, I’m your No. 1 fan.
Mignot was the 2003-2004 Finance & Economy and A Closer
Look editor.