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My family immigrated
to Australia in late 1987 from Canada, with little knowledge about our
soon-to-be surrounds. Without the Internet, social media, Skype and cheap
airfares, the world seemed like a much bigger place in the 80’s. Though I had a
fairly good idea of what existed beyond the great white maple syrup drenched
lands of Canada, my geography was a little shaky. So when my mother told us we
were moving to Australia, I immediately began to fantasise about strolling the
streets of Vienna, listening to Mozart and eating an ungodly amount of
Danishes. A European princess.
“No – Not
Austria… Australia. Like in
Crocodile Dundee.”
My mother’s
correction cut through me like a knife. But
THAT GUY didn’t know how to use an escalator. What kind of godforsaken country
doesn’t have an escalator? I watched Crocodile Dundee over and over again,
trying to make sense of the insanity. Time and time again, all I could deduce
from the movie was that Australia had a lot of open space, was filled with
crocodiles, populated by leathery old men and seriously lacked the presence of
a decent shopping center. It was clear to me that my parents had lost their
minds.