And even though - or perhaps because - it happened to a family originally from New Zealand, so much of the story really defines us as Australians. We're easily led, quick to judge, hatefully suspicious, reluctant to accept our faults and, finally, a pretty ugly bunch of holiday-makers. Australia, I salute us.
I even kind of wish I could discover Azaria's remains, thereby plunging myself instrumentally into the legend instead of being just another visitor. God, I'm so shallow and pathetic sometimes.