While I’m overseas, I often take on a funny role with my Kiwi and Aussie friends. In many ways I become sort of the Alastair Cook of the moment, the ‘great explainer’ of all things American to them. Foreign policy, cuisine, language, the size of our cars, ‘reality television’ as an oxymoron, Donald Trump’s hair style, or how it’s possible that someone like Michelle Bachman can be taken seriously as a Presidential candidate. You name it, if it’s American and it’s different, I’m asked about it and nothing is off limits.
The concept that always seems to creep into these conversations is how different we are from place to place in America. No, I am not familiar enough with Texas state politics to explain Rick Perry’s qualifications. Yes, I do live very close to New Hampshire and I’m grateful that in Vermont our concept of the role of government is different enough that we have better pavement than NH despite higher taxes. No, I’m not from Vermont despite having lived there for a decade and having spent much time there in my youth. I’m from New York, as in Upstate New York, and that doesn’t mean that it’s odd for me to have a different accent than the boys from Bensonhurst. We’ve had two Winter Olympic Games in Upstate New York, for Heaven’s sake! My friends from New Zealand and Australia all know that the United States of America is a very big place with a lot of people in it, but often they haven’t had the opportunity to consider all of the wider implications of what that means. Apparently it’s my role to tell them. My favorite little nugget to use as an explainer is the use of the plural to describe the US before the Civil War and the singular after it; as in “the United States of America are the largest economy …” versus “the USA is the largest economy …”
Still, despite stopping over in a place that joined the union in 1912, is 2500 miles from where I live in Vermont and is quite a bit different in most respects, Arizona definitely is on the way home, both literally and metaphorically. Just as when I return to NZ and re-adjust to the details of everyday life, there are things here that I note upon arrival and which I otherwise would take for granted. I have not had to search high and low for brewed coffee instead of espresso; I may have been flying during the Rugby World Cup semifinals but I did get to watch part of the NY Giants win on Sunday; I have not had to order my food at the counter before sitting down in a restaurant and I have had to tip; I get to read the NYTimes print edition every morning; I can order a bagel without fear of being branded an oddity; and I don’t have to repeat my NZ driving mantra whenever I turn a corner – ‘left, left, left’. Parking lots and ketchup are referred to by their ‘proper’ names, and nobody, not a single solitary soul, discusses cricket for any reason.
It’s great to be home, even if it’s still so far away. Oh, and one more thing: Go you All Blacks!
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