Easter in Australia

No other holiday brings Christians out of the closet like Easter. Not even Christmas. After all, Christmas is merely a birthday, whereas Easter is a shot at forgiveness, redemption, and a one way ticket to Heaven – certainly worth the price of a two hour church service once a year.

In Australia, Easter is the one time of year where you can find cinnamon in baked goods. I never realized how much I took cinnamon for granted, but it is not a flavouring widely used here. When I compare cultural notes with Australians who have travelled in the US, there is almost always an exchange about the relative abundance versus absence of cinnamon (usually followed by an intensely emotional discussion of the merits versus the horrors of pairing peanut butter with chocolate – this from people who think spreading a bitter tarry film of rancid dead yeast in between two pieces of white bread constitutes a sandwich.) However, at Easter, the bakeries are filled with the delicious aroma of cinnamon wafting from trays of hot cross buns.

According to my extensive research (none), no one really knows the story of hot cross buns, of why they have a cross on top, or why they are typically only eaten on Good Friday. I am inclined to believe there is a pagan origin to this tradition, but I don’t want any of you sending me links to Wikipedia in support of this. (As an aside, I would like to point out this article and make a footnote reminder to revisit the topic of political correctness, which Australians seem to think was invented by Americans for the sole purpose of annoying them – and despite their blustering, it will happen here eventually.)

As part of our cultural immersion experience, Kevin and I bought a package of hot cross buns – but really only because we discovered the existence of fruitless buns (i.e. no ‘sultanas’ aka raisins) and also because we happened to be in Queensland and heard that Coles was giving away free bullets with every pack. (‘Pulled from the shelves’ my ass, but they were marked down considerably!) I would like to report that they were awesome, but they were just fluffy dinner rolls with a hint of finely ground cinnamon, and the cross was some weird sort of dough and not the gooey sweet icing we had expected. However, any food that serves as a vehicle for melted butter is O.K. in my book.

But, I digress. I did not mean to write another article about hot cross buns. I meant to write an article about the bizarre liquor laws on Good Friday.

Australian society – and I say this with heartfelt respect and admiration – is extremely alcohol oriented. And lest I be accused by my Australian readers of being a judgemental American, I back up this statement with the fact that every news broadcast for the last month has featured a headline (headline!) story discussing the role of alcohol in Australian society. I have performed exhaustive field research on this subject, and hope to complete my thesis by the end of the year, but for the present, I will share my observations about drinking on Good Friday.

First of all, I must point out that liquor stores are open on EASTER SUNDAY, but are closed on GOOD FRIDAY.

Most businesses are closed on Good Friday, which is an official public holiday (along with Easter Monday, but that is another topic.) All bars are closed, however many pubs open in the evening. Last year, in New South Wales, we were informed that every purchase of alcohol must be accompanied with a food purchase (although this may have been a rule peculiar to the particular movie theater we were in at the time - oh, by the way, you can drink in movie theaters here). This year in Queensland, we were issued a meal ticket with a time stamp before entering the pub. We were allowed to drink for one hour before being required to order a meal. We could then drink for one hour after ordering our meal. After two hours, we were required to leave the premises. Managers checked our tickets every fifteen minutes to make sure we ordered our dinner and then promptly gave us the boot. The streets were jammed with displaced half-drunk tourists who didn’t know what to do with the rest of their Friday night.

On Easter Sunday, it was business as usual for the pubs and bars.

I reckon it makes some sort of sense that Sunday should be a day of celebration, since Christ came back from the dead to save us and all, but it seems if ever there was a time when a Christian needed a drink it would be on the occasion marking the atrocities perpetrated against one’s saviour. But apparently, Good Friday is a somber day that is meant to be suffered in sober contemplation of one’s sins, preferably on a full stomach.

So, why is it called “Good” Friday?