Who says Australians don't have culture?

Outside, the air is warmer than a usual wintery June day. The moment it hits above 17 degrees Celsius, I replace my leggings with a pair of shorts. The scent of summer weaves through the air. This smell appears when the seasons are about to change, when the streets of Melbourne will come to life again with colours, laughter and frustrated sneezing. But it’s only June. It’s too early for the leaves to grow back, and for the persistent, irritating itch at the bottom of your nose when you know hayfever season is about to hit you like a truck.

This smell- it reminds me of summer. This is where Australian culture is at its finest.

Rushing back out of a car packed for a day at the local beach or pool because we forget to grab the beach towels. Salivating at the thought of the watermelon that Mum scooped with a small ice-cream scooper. The eyerolls of us kids in the backseat when Mum and Dad argue over which beach to go to for the best parking, cleanest shoreline and least amount of people. Or, if it’s a pool day, driving past the local 7/11 and suddenly craving multi-flavoured Slurpees. “On the way home,” we would all agree.

The first taste of summer usually comes about when lathering layer upon layer of SPF all over yourself and you can’t quite resist that initial devouring of Thins Light & Tangy chips. It tastes exactly like you remember, but with some undertones of Banana Boat sunscreen. Absolutely delicious, if I don’t say so myself.

Then comes the leap into the pool, the cooling water a saviour for your burnt feet that just ran across the searing concrete so hot that, I swear, you could fry an egg on it. Water rushes into your mouth and up your nose. It’s uncomfortable for a moment, but then it passes and you’re now racing your siblings from one side of the pool to the other.

After a while, it’s time to head out for another lather of sunscreen and a snack. Yeah, the watermelon looks tempting, but that sausage roll that three-year old was chomping down on also looks pretty darn appetising too. This time, you put on your Crocs, deciding the “Great Plunge into the Pool” of 45 minutes earlier was an excellent thermometer for how warm the day was becoming. With your Dad trailing behind you, you carry the red $20 dollar note to the canteen, mulling over your order whilst also hoping your Dad remembers what everyone else asked for because you forgot about three seconds after they told you. Well, you weren’t really listening. You were just after the Four and Twenty Jumbo Sausage Roll. Maybe they were after the Four & Twenty Pie. Eh, Dad will remember.

You reach the front of the line and a girl wearing a red and yellow long sleeve shirt asks what you would like. You pause, your attention suddenly focusing on the big red board with all the different ice-cream and icy-pole flavours available. You notice her smiling at you and you bring your focus back to the present moment. You say your order, and then let your Dad do the rest. She tells you the price and you hand her the $20 note. Your Dad takes the change, knowing that your attention is already focused on that jumbo sausage roll the second you see it.

Returning to your family’s spot underneath the tree, you open up the sausage roll, ensuring that it doesn’t go flying onto the towel in front of you. You click the tomato sauce tub open and squeeze the tomato sauce along the top of the sausage roll. You take a bite, and instantly, you’re in Australian culinary heaven. With each bite, you squeeze a layer of sauce, learning that this was the best way to eat a sausage roll without wasting the sauce. Beside you, your parents and siblings are munching down on their Four and Twenty Meat Pies, hot chips and chicken nuggets.

Look, you were never one to abide by the “wait half an hour ‘til your tummy settles before you jump back into the pool.” After ten minutes, you were back in the pool. Some of your school friends arrive and you catch up on what you’ve all been doing so far on the school holidays. Travels, family parties, Christmases. Someone makes a comment about the holiday homework and they’re quickly shut down. There was no room to talk about school right now. It was summer holidays.

Despite hanging out with your mates, you couldn’t get that Paddle Pop Rainbow ice-cream out of your mind. You hadn’t had one in years, but remember downing them as a kid. Courtesy of a random Buzzfeed article you found in class, you finally learnt, after all these years, that the rainbow flavour was actually caramel. Huh, the more you know.

For the second time, your Dad follows you to the canteen with your siblings in tow. Everyone’s keen on ice-cream and icy poles. You decide on the Paddle Pop Rainbow ice-cream after spending a moment considering an alternative with a Golden Gaytime. Your siblings get a Raspberry and Pineapple Calippo and a Milo Scoop Shake. Dad grabs a Chocolate Cornetto and Mum decides on a Choc-Almond Magnum.

Tasting the Rainbow ice-cream transported you back to when you were 4 years old and sitting in the same spot, at the same pool, with your Mum and Dad (minus the siblings).

You jump back into the pool for one last dip before you help your family pack up and head back to the car. On the way home, you get the slurpees that you agreed upon.

There’s nothing quite like an Australian summer. Although, I assume everyone says that about their own country’s summer. There’s a magic to each and every one of them, no matter if you’re in Australia, the USA, the Netherlands or South Africa. Each place has their own memories that are brought back in an instant through tastes and scents and sensations.

In Australia, it’s the Four and Twenty Meat Pies and Sausage Rolls for lunch, the Slurpees that you gulp down a tad too quickly which lead to what you reckon is the worst brain freeze in the history of brain freezes, and the fish & chips that Mum and Dad grab from the local fish & chip shop for dinner because it’s far too hot to cook in the kitchen. Seafood sticks, Dim Sims and Potato Cakes, anyone?

Yeah, Australia might be a melting pot of cultures.

Yeah, it might not have a distinct culture like the Italians or the Greeks or the Spanish.

But it has a meeting point where no matter what culture or what country you or your ancestors arrived from, you all have a shared experience.

Maybe the language you speak whilst you’re eating fish and chips is different.

Maybe the music you listen to on the way to and from the beach or pool is from a different culture.

Maybe the swear words your parents use when arguing about which spot to park in are in a different language compared to the family experiencing the same thing in the next car over.

But this, mate, this is what makes Australia, Australia.

Seriously, who says Australians don’t have culture?

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to replace the shorts with a pair of tracksuit pants because it's starting to get chilly like a proper Melbourne winter.