My introduction to the culture seemed to be going well. Sam picked me up from my 17-hour flight with a packed travel agenda! We were headed to Warrnambool, a town along the South Coast where I would experience small-town Australia life and gain a proper education in the workings of a mysterious creature called the bogan. January 26th was Australia Day-comparable to our Independence Day, except Australia is technically still under the queen’s rule (there was a proposal to make it into an independent republic with an elected president in 1999, but the citizens voted no), so they celebrate the arrival of the British settlers in the 1700s. It included everything a good nationalistic celebration should-bbq, slip n slide, beer, lots of flags and bogans. They fall somewhere between our version of a redneck and trailer trash, a bogan comes in all shapes and sizes and Australia Day is arguably their favorite day of the year. I’ve interviewed Australians around the globe and here are what the insiders have to say about the bogan:
- They are extremely nationalistic and can be seen wearing multiple pieces of clothing covered in Australian flags in conjunction with their daily attire of ribbed tank tops and Ugg boots
- They tend to reside in the country, although there have been spottings of rich bogans living in the city.
- The genders rarely mix unless in a one on one setting. Men can be found in the barn working on cars and drinking beer and the women busy themselves with cooking, cleaning, caring for children and sharing local gossip.
- Bottom line: they lack a general sense of culture.
We wrapped up the weekend with a drive along the Great Ocean Highway in route to Melbourne. Just as we were getting ready to leave Sam’s mom’s house we heard the shrieks of a wild wallaby who had just been awaken by Buddy the dog galloping through the back yard. The wallaby was bouncing around uncontrollably crashing into the side of the shed and against the privacy fence. I quickly abandoned my position in front of the gate to distance myself from the wild beast. What would the bogan do? Maybe shoot the wallaby and make wallaby boots, or burgers. What would I do? Luckily, Sam’s mom was already running around the back of the fence and was able to open the gate from the outside. The wallaby spotted the glimpse of freedom and took it, bounding off into the forest. I guess I’m not so bogan after all.