Joanne Black
Bring on the wine and pretzels as we prepare for the final US presidential debate – and Halloween.
Since our move to the US, a number of my conversations with Americans have begun the same way. On hearing my accent, they ask, “Where are you from?” When I reply “New Zealand”, they look shocked. “Why would you leave there to come here at a time like this?”
This is usually followed by a kind of apology for Donald Trump, and the expression of a forlorn hope that perhaps because New Zealand is so far away, no one there will have noticed him. I try to say, kindly, that the whole world is watching this presidential election campaign, although probably largely for its amusement value, but that they shouldn’t worry, because it will soon be over.
To be truthful, I think no functioning democracy other than the US could have produced Trump or allowed him to run so far. In New Zealand, a minister can end up on newspaper front pages if his or her car is seen parked on a yellow line. “Is this a sign you are getting arrogant?” reporters would bark. Cripes.
With his full monty of celebrity, wealth and arrogance, Trump is an unfortunate embodiment of everyone’s worst stereotypes about rich Americans. As for that Trump tape, although I find him distasteful, I think few of us would not be mortified if some of our private conversations with friends were published. But it is out there, and Hillary Clinton is probably feeling fortunate that Trump touched only her hand and her back at the end of the second debate. Even then, her loathing of him is so palpable that she probably had a shower afterwards.
Hooked, I am already ordering in pretzels and wine for the final debate, although it will surely be impossible to upstage the second one, during which Trump wheeled in three women who claimed to have been sexually assaulted by Hillary’s husband, Bill Clinton, who was sitting in the audience. It has been pure theatre and yes, – sorry, America – the whole world has a free ticket and can’t tear itself away. Hillary becoming president will be a relief, but also an anticlimax.
The learning curve continues. Our neighbours have helpfully advised us not to carve our jack-o’-lantern too early, because otherwise the squirrels will eat it before Halloween. That’s the benefit of local knowledge for you. They were surprised to hear that we had only ever made pumpkins into soup.
This reminds me of an American friend who moved to Wellington and, wanting to make pumpkin muffins, searched the supermarket aisles before finally asking a staff member, “Where do I find canned pumpkin?” He directed her to the fresh fruit and vege section, where she was confronted by pumpkins that you need an axe rather than a can opener to get into.
Much here still perplexes me, but some things seem more obvious from this perspective. For example, I’m surprised by the poor street lighting in my neighbourhood and, it seems, most neighbourhoods. But what is a nuisance on 364 nights of the year will be perfect on Halloween.
The bright, welcoming glow of a jack-o’-lantern makes much more sense when you see the blackness of the suburbs, hear the rustle of the trees and imagine being a child picking your way along a path to who knows what scary reception at a front door. Our front porch is sporting an impressively large fake spider, which I added to an impressively large authentic cobweb, because it was easier to make it into a Halloween feature than do the housework. I am learning fast.
Hillary becoming president will be a relief, but also an anticlimax.