For the Love of Vitabrits

Pure, Natural Goodness is right

On this, the anniversarial eve of my return from Australia, I celebrate as best I can: with a bowl of Weetabix. Now, now, I know, it’s Vitabrits I love, but here in Ughmerica, I will take my fibrous whole grain bricks anyway I can. What’s in a name? A biscuit by any other name would taste as sweet…Shakespeare wrote of Juliet only because he never tasted Vitabrits.

My love affair with this ‘breakfast’ cereal (I disdain caging a food item as illustrious and regal as cereal to any timeframe, let alone one whose fame is begotten largely by lard and sugar. Coffee, however, redeems the association.) began probably one afternoon in August of ‘07. I was seeing many cereals at this point, playing the field–there were many a sundry meusli–both with sultanas and without, toasted and natural, apricot and almond, papaya, on and on. There were Rice Bubbles (You know them as Rice Crispies), Sultana Bran (Raisin Bran). I began spending time with both Weetabix and Vitabrits around the same time, which lead to some confusion, both in my heart and mind, and many an awkward moment ensued when I couldn’t remember which I truly cared for, and even provoking me to call one by the other’s name in heated moments.

And how could I, when Vitabrits is so far superior to Weet-bix? But that’s just it, isn’t it–Weetabix lead a double life. One day I’d be sweeping down the isle of the Supa IGA, and, blinded by box after bag after carton of Black and Gold products, I’d see Weetabix–the next, Weet-bix, then Vita Weeties, then Oat Brits, until you go mad. What is this? Mind games? 

Oh, dear.

A year later, I commemorate 5 of the most glorious (in every sense of the word) months as almost each of the days contained therein found me–in front of a bowl. Except in this case, there are a few key differences:

1) The bowl contains Weetabix. I’m committing food adultery. In my defense, Trader Joe’s made me do it! They carry Weetabix, not my one true lover, Vitabrits. Sacrifices have to be made. Point of redemption–While not made faithfully and with great love and Aussie pride by Uncle Toby himself, this product IS out of the great state of Massachusetts, which, as we all know, is hot like biscuits. Except right now. It’s cold as @#*%!

2) Each miraculous brick now bathes in a more flattering beige sea of almond or soy milk, rather than the yellowish milk of the land down under. I’ve never liked milk, anyways–people usually ask, upon hearing this, “Oh, are you lactose intolerant?” “No”, I answer, “just intolerant”. I simply want to barf when it touches my lips. I doubt if that has anything to do with proteins or allergies.  But Australian milk? Let’s just say that though they market many dairy products : butter, whipping cream, milk, etc.–it is in packaging alone that they differ. They all tasted the same, and left the same oily film on the roof of your mouth. Oh, speak of the devil, I feel some intolerance coming on now. Say it with me, now: Soymilk, WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN ALL MY LIFE? Why couldn’t I have been born to hippie parents like all the kids in Wellfleet…

3) Brown sugar instead of raw. I miss the characteristic crunch crunch with each bite.

4) I eat unobserved. One of my seven flatmates, was it Mel? coined the term Vitabrits Time, which, by nature, was ALL the time. Come on–this cereal came in a two kilo carton, each pound individually wrapped to ensure tastiness. TWO KILOS.

Once again, I’ve gone off on a quasi sarcastic tangent, which can and does only ever mean one thing: I’m actually feeling something serious that I don’t have the words for.

Australia was one of the most precious  experiences of my life. I miss my FRIENDS,  the sky that was always taking my breath away,  the markets,  the smell of frangipani,  the magpies and the strange little long-legged lawn birds that always looked lost, the phrases, riding my bike barefoot, Bay Kebabs on the grass,  drum circles and firetwirling,  bikkyballs, riding over the golf course past the wallabies to the beach, the parkies,  free bread,  curries and bi-weekly small group dinners, Schoolies, SDA veggie feast-o-rama,  flat whites, battling the ants and brownhunstman, dancing and singing our guts out with honest to God true worshippers, rainstorms and lightning, riding my bike to the BP to use the payphone to call home where it was already the next day, watching The Mighty Boosh with Kim and Luke, dance parties galore, dancing at the Beachy with Tom, sunrise bike rides to the lighthouse, the blood moon, Byron chai, servant projects, Soupie, I could literally go on forever.

I am so grateful to have had the opportunity to experience it all, and not a day goes by that a piece of my heart isn’t there with the people and the things I loved.  I count it all as a gift from a good God.

And for the record, I can still eat as many (if not more) bricks than the men’s Footy team. Struth.

~ by Anna on December 18, 2008.