"Are most yanks all the go with Bush and the Iraqi War?" Jesse, a 21-year-old Aussie army enlistee, asked. As a new soldier, he said he had started to feel the effects of terrorism especially after the recent bombing in nearby Bali.
"Not really, but it all depends on who you ask," I replied.
"So, how can Bush invade Iraq to have a gander for 'weapons of mass destruction'?"
"I don't know. I think Congress signed off on it a while ago," Spencer, my high school friend, answered.
"I've always wanted to go to Washington, D.C. I'll work there one day." Jesse said. "It seems fantastic."
Jesse had never left the state of New South Wales until his current 2,200-kilometer trip north to Airlie Beach, Queensland, yet he said he would leave his coastal home of Sydney and jump on a plane for 20 hours for a chance to experience American politics in Washington, D.C.
Washington, D.C. is less than three hours from Charlottesville, but I seldom take the trip to go to a concert, let alone visit Capitol Hill.It is remarkable how interested and informed the international community is with American issues. America constantly influences the entire world, yet one's perspective on its influence cannot be fully appreciated without studying abroad in other countries. Beyond the borders of the United States lies an unending diversity of perspectives, landscapes and beauty.
After traveling in New Zealand, hiking the ancient rainforests of Northern Queensland, sunbathing on the white, silicon beaches of the Whitsundays and snorkeling in the colorful marine life of the Great Barrier Reef, I reunited with Spencer at a hostel in Airlie Beach, Australia.
Like most hostels, it was a dwelling for people of many different nationalities, all united through an appreciation of traveling.That night an Italian cooked carbonara pasta for two "Yanks," an Aussie and a "Pomie" (slang for British). It was the best meal most of us had had in quite some time, and to work it off, we decided to throw around a football that I had found collecting dust in the back of a scuba store. The sheila (Australian for girl) behind the counter sold it to me for $5 Australian dollars or about $3 American.
Everyone at the hostel had heard of American football, but the Nike rubber football itself was a foreign object. To the Italian and Brit, football was a word strictly used for soccer, and for the Aussie football was a broad word for rugby.
Each region of Australia follows a different version of rugby -- whether it is footie, rugby union or rugby league. Aussies strictly follow one type and will not even know the rules of the other versions. Despite sharing a common name, the concept behind the game is truly unique. So we all headed to the lagoon -- not to kick or lateral the football -- but to throw it around.
"Let me give this a go," Jesse said, eager to be the first.
He put the football in his palm, moved his arm forward and released it. The ball wobbled through the air and fell five feet short.
"I guess I'm not a natural Joe Montana," Jesse said.
"It's alright, I'm not George Gregan (the Australian Wallabies rugby captain)," I replied.
Six months ago I didn't even know the rules to rugby, and here I was matching Jesse with player's names.
"Try placing your fingers in the laces and keeping your arm in an L shape," Spencer critiqued.
Teaching someone the specifics of throwing a football was extremely difficult. Again, Jesse hurled the football with little success.
"How bout twisting your shoulders and letting go when you are facing Spencer," I said.
The more I thought about the instructions, the more complex they seemed and the worse my throwing became.
"Alright, I think I got this one," Jesse said as he gave it another shot. This time the football wobbled but actually reached the receiver.
"It's getting better -- almost there."
I never thought I would be teaching the dynamics of throwing a football to an Australian. I assumed I would be doing all the learning and listening and not have to return the favor. I thought I would leave Australia knowing how to play rugby and everything else there is to being an Australian, but instead I also taught others about America.
It is difficult to explain even simple things, such as throwing a football, let alone trying to explain your culture. There isn't a book I could read that teaches Australian or American culture. It is the personal exchange that truly matters and the impact it makes on individuals' lives.
I believe Jesse will always remember the time he met Americans and how they taught him how to throw a football. Certainly, Jesse will stick in my mind, as the bloke (Australian for boy) who not only provided me with the Australian's liberal and pacifist views on the war, but -- more importantly -- a cross-cultural exchange.
Jesse tossed the football once again. This time, however, it flew in a perfect spiral and fell directly into Spencer's hands.
"Sweet throw!" I said.
Spencer threw the ball back to Jesse. "Here you go -- keep the football. It is yours now."
"Cheers mate," Jesse replied. "Hey, you guys mind signing my football?"
"No worries, we'd be glad to"
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