I went to the U.S. embassy in Perth recently for an event billed as “a coffee and a chat with the Consul.” Joshua was delightful but may have been overshadowed by the silver machine in the corner. “Drip coffee!” the Americans exclaimed after leaving our belongings in lockers and walking through metal detectors. The Consul told us, “You can’t have a U.S. embassy without drip coffee,” while distributing stars and stripes ballpoint pens. (Australia has outstanding coffee but it is espresso-based, which explains all the good moods and early morning jogs.) I met a young mother in a green cable knit sweater who described the Republican VP candidate as “a good guy,” and a woman in a Bucky Badger sweatshirt with a Frances McDormand in Fargo accent. When she said, “I liked Bernie, but Hillary can be trusted with the nuclear codes,” I felt homesick even though I’m not from Wisconsin.
The U.S. presidential election is not something that is happening only to America, or only to Americans. The debates were broadcast live in Perth, on at least three channels, and were summarized in the evening news and local paper. A friend here was raised in Sweden and Spain and has lived in Australia for many years. She is troubled by the fact that many Americans don’t vote – voting is mandatory in Australia – and suggested, half-jokingly, that people in other countries should be able to cast their votes. “It’s the most powerful position in the world. We’re all invested.”
I went to a café in Swanbourne with the newspaper and a notebook, and sat next to three men huddled around a foot-long wooden boat perched on the table next to their flat whites. One of them had built the exquisite model and brought it to breakfast in the hopes that his friend could help him with the knots in the sail. As they fiddled with the parts, the builder, a tall fellow in a navy blue sweater vest, said, “But I suppose it’s true. America’s getting weaker and weaker and China’s getting stronger and stronger.”
The knot master frowned and removed his reading glasses. “But this bloke is going to build a wall?” The three of them erupted in laughter. He continued, “In America you’ve got this working poor where people have jobs but they just can’t afford to live. They’re angry, of course they’re angry. But there’s a huge number of people in America now who believe everything they see on telly. It’s scary.” They all nodded.
The third man added, “The phenomenon is not Trump himself, it’s why he’s getting so much support. He just tells them anything they want to hear. It’s totally illogical. Mexicans out! Muslims out! What about the bloody Europeans?” More laughter.
Calling anything a silver lining in this election reminds me of the college party where I ended up with a tube down my throat, overheard nurses whispering about “a waste of resources,” and then called my dad who asked me if it was good beer. But I must say, watching a smart woman patiently and strategically take down an ignorant chauvinist is good beer. I’m just annoyed she had to attend the party with this jerk in the first place.
When I walked my daughters to school this morning, the air looked dusty and smelled like burnt toast. Bushfires are common in Western Australia, especially in the spring when they are purposefully lit to avoid catastrophic blazes in the summer. When I first moved here and smelled fire, I was alarmed. The world was burning and no one was doing anything about it. But now I understand that the smoke soon clears and new growth begins.