The joys of my country

I do not consider myself patriotic. Certainly not nationalistic. Jingoism sets off my cynicism detector. I guess you could say I’m pretty honest – jaded? – about my country. I don’t buy into the bull.

But there is one stereotypical national trait that I do get a bit keen about.

Evie’s first Vegemite sandwich

Vegemite.

It’s silly and illogical. But I just do.

I love the stuff. I can’t eat it – it’s practically made of gluten – but I love it. I love that immigrants don’t understand it. I love sending it to Canadians who loathe it. I love that my daughters both started eating it in their infancy and both adore it. I love that ex-pats beg their mothers to send it in care packages.

To me, Vegemite is fundamentally Australian, and a fundamental part of being Australian. I am aware that there are a few oddities here and there who don’t like it, but they must be the exception that proves the rule. I take pride in loving Vegemite, and in ensuring my children do the same!

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8 thoughts on “The joys of my country

  1. Jen Mansfield says:

    An Aussie sent me a care package with vegemite in it probably a decade ago. I don’t understand, its the most bitter, foulest thing Ive ever eaten, and you can’t buy it here, something in it makes it illegal to import in a lot of American cities, yet so many Australians absolutely obsessively adore it.

  2. When I told Nuit about Vegemite, the words “yeast extract” were all it took to disgust her. :p

  3. Awanthi Vardaraj says:

    Oi. I love Vegemite, and I’m Indian!

  4. And it comes from beer! How Ozzie is that? 🙂

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