Stranger In A (Not So) Strange Land

Tag: family

  • What’s missing?

    I’ve noticed that I spend a lot of time raving about my new home life. I’m still in the “shiny and new” stage I suppose. That doesn’t mean that there are not elements of my old home that I don’t miss. Several have come to mind recently. In fact, I plan to be sure to have all of them wrapped into my visit at the end of November. Each one has sat as a small hole in my heart, waiting to be refilled on a return to the states.

    Now you may be wondering what those few things are. Or you may not. Either way I’m going to tell you. Unless you decide right now to stop reading, but then it’s on you. If you are okay going through life with this small mystery in your mind…letting it grow…encompassing more and more of your thoughts until you can’t take it anymore! Well then that’s on you.

    Just for clarification, I’m not mentioning all the wonderful people in my life who I truly do miss. Thank goodness for Zoom and WhatsApp!

    Here they are, in no particular order:

    1. Blue cheese salad dressing. I KNOW! I’m not quite sure why I am unable to find it anywhere in my corner of England. Perhaps because it is too French? Too posh? Too deliciously flavourful? Mind you, there are plenty of other types that are easy to come by. Honey mustard, French (hey, wait a minute. There goes my theory) Italian, ranch. And I know, I could simply buy some bleu cheese and make my own. It’s not the same. I want to grab a bottle of Wishbone Dressing and pour it on.
    2. Jersey Tomatoes and Corn. There’s no getting around this. The fresh fruit and vegetable access here is great, but there will never be any way to replace the best. I was okay going for a whole summer with no corn fritters and no fried tomatoes, but that gives me a year to figure out a way around it.
    3. The extremely hot weather. Ha! Tricked you. I’m loving the idea that a “heatwave” is in the mid 80s and lasts no more that 2 days. As opposed to 90+ and lasting for weeks on end. It would be like me saying I miss getting up at 5:30 am on Sundays, or having to drive everywhere. So no, I don’t miss the heat at all.
    4. (Or the real 3:) Cynicism. More specifically, the opportunity to be cynical. Here’s a scenario – I order something that is to be delivered in 30 minutes. I wait over 45. Now, in NJ this is cause for righteous anger. I mean, how dare they! No tip for you. And a rotten review online. (Now it’s 50 minutes) TWO rotten reviews online. This is awful.

    Then there’s a ring at the door. Perfect. Grab my keys and all my pent up anger. Swing open the door to see a young man with his bicycle, standing in the rain, my package carefully protected from the weather. “I am so sorry, I do not have a car, so this took a long time with the rain.” Stick a pin in me, clearly my privelege is showing. So I take my package, tell him it’s not a problem, tell him to be safe on the slick roads, and pull out my app to up his tip. I mean, really. Defeated by an honest apology.

    Overall, there are few things I miss. Outweighed by the positive: walking everywhere, pleasant people smiling and saying hello, conversation on the buses, not starting work until 9 a.m. (Let’s be honest, I said 9 a.m. because I don’t want you to know I often don’t get going until 10.) Pleasant pubs with good food, good drinks, and football on the TV. If this is the shiny/new stage, I hope it lasts. Because I’m willing to trade off that bleu cheese dressing for the joy of being in Reddish.

    UPDATE: You aren’t going to believe this. I was lamenting my salad distress with Sarah, the owner of my local coffee shop. She went into the back, came out with a catalogue and said she could order some. I thought that was such a sweet gesture. Then, a few days later, I was waiting at the bus stop and she came running out to tell me the dressing was here! I can neither confirm or deny that I ate a salad every day for the next 9 days. But I can confirm that it was heaven, and I’ve been incredibly lucky to find her shop. One checked off the list. And if you are ever in Reddish, be sure to stop at Sykes Coffee House. Best coffee, best food, best people.

  • Two countries separated by a common language?

    Now that I’ve been living in this Strange Land for four months, I thought it would be a good time to reflect on how I’ve adapted.

    Food – Definitely well. I love getting fresh fruit and veg daily (so it’s really fresh), and the variety of types of food available is great. Haven’t tried the MacDonalds because, frankly, I never ate there in the States. I did finally venture into the Dunkin’ Donuts in Manchester, and am happy to report the coffee blend is awfully close to what I used to buy daily. Can’t vouch for anything else on the menu; however, the coffee is all that really matters to me. But my schedule gives me time to cook more often – which leads to

    Time – Extremely well. The hectic pace of Jersey life has been tough to shake but I’m glad that I have unloaded that particular burden. Getting started early is not a competition. Working late is not a necessity. I’m task oriented, and letting the tasks be accomplished in time is much more relaxing for sure. Not feeling like I’m hurrying to get to the finish line (which, let’s be honest, is either retirement or death) has done wonders for my stress level. Speaking of stress

    Health – Even better than expected. I’m not a fan of “exercise” but I like to sneak in activities without my body knowing it. I walk everywhere. My blood pressure is good; my weight is the best it’s been in 18 years.

    So I’m doing well with my adaptations. Yet what about the big barrier? How am I doing with learning the language? We all know George Bernard Shaw’s opinion on this: “England and America are two countries separated by a common language.” Not sure about the accent – I only wish I could sound as beautiful and the Mancunians with their open vowels and lilting tones – since I won’t notice the differences myself. I’m focusing on how well I have adjusted to the phrasing. Have I adopted local terms?

    Here’s an example. Getting off the bus, the rider always gives a departing word to the driver. “Thanks” is very American. “Thank you” is more British. “Cheers, mate” feels like the goal. I’m still working on consistency, but I’m definitely settled between 2 and 3. I’d even say it’s about a 2.75 for now!

    There are sayings I can’t stand and am very glad to hear that they are not popular in my new home. Early on in my time, I contacted the person who has oversight of my work to ask about something that seemed like it might be trivial. Didn’t know if I needed her okay but I wanted to get it just in case. I thanked her for not making me feel like I wasted her time, and she said, “One thing I never abide by is that “better to ask for forgiveness than permission” nonsense.” Oh, I so agree with that. It’s never made any sense. It takes a moment to get the approval; it can take a lifetime to make up for a screw up.

    And I’m noticing that I never hear my least favourite of all statements. I even hesitate to write it. Okay, here you go:

    I’m sure they meant well.

    Makes my skin crawl. I mean, clearly, they didn’t. If they meant well, they wouldn’t have done whatever it is they have done that’s pissed me off. Don’t justify someone’s ridiculous actions or words because you can’t imagine that they were not being mean or vindictive. If they “meant well” they could have kept their opinions to themselves. Ugh. Now I’m in a bad mood. I need tea.

    (By the way, isn’t this the most British of mugs?)

    “Well meaning” isn’t a substitute for being kind, and those intentions should not be excused.

    Enough on that though. Being able to use “brilliant” or “lovely” in non-sarcastic ways is, frankly, quite lovely. So I plan to just keep working at it, learning my new language until everything falls into place, and Bob’s your uncle. Even if you don’t have an uncle. Or you have an uncle but his name is Henry or Sam or something.

    I just said I’ll learn the language. I didn’t promise to truly understand it.

  • Please forgive the delay

    To begin with, I feel like I need to apologize.

    Although when I started this blog I didn’t set any type of time frame, I sort of thought I’d do something on a weekly basis. So I really don’t have anyone to apologize to, right?

    Besides, it’s not my fault. I have a new housemate who has demanded my attention.

    (Her name is Sabrina. Supposedly after the model/actress on the right. I think she’s named after Audrey Hepburn in the movie.)

    At any rate, the delay turned out to be a good thing. It was just brought to my attention by that modern receptacle of memories and life events (yes, Facebook) that I am celebrating an anniversary. It was 6 years ago today that I made my very first trip to the UK. Travelling with my sister, sister-in-law and brother, we arranged to spend 9 days hitting some important places for each of us. My sister wanted to see the Harry Potter studios; I wanted to see the places in Oxford I have been seeing on my favourite British mysteries for years. We all enjoyed ourselves. It has been interesting to think back about that first dream trip and see it as the starting point of the journey that would lead to me here and now.

    Of course it wasn’t start of my love for all things UK. I grew up on the reality that British television/movies/books were always better for me than any others. I was the only kid I knew who was obsessed with Doctor Who. Every Saturday morning I’d come downstairs to get a cup of dry cereal (yeah, I still don’t like milk) and settle on the couch to watch cartoons. By the time my Doctor (Tom Baker of course) showed up, I had sugary bear cereal stuck all over my robe. My word, I was cute.

    But I digress. Doctor Who fan before it was popular. Enjoying Hammer horror with my sister, not knowing that there were other actors who had allegedly played Dracula and Frankenstein before Lee and Cushing. Sitcoms and mysteries, I slowly grew an absolute love of the things I learned about England. Someday, I convinced myself, I would get to go to this magical place where Daleks roam the streets and murders happen in small villages regularly. Where people would understand my quotes from The Young Ones and Monty Python.

    When my brother became a member of the Society of Ordained Scientists, he suggested I become an associate. I have also always been fascinated in that space where science and faith overlap, and to spend time with the brilliant minds who occupied these two disciplines was very intriguing. And I would get to go to England. Win/win.

    Purchased our tickets, laid out our plans, packed our bags and headed off. We got off in Heathrow and my brother and sister-in-law went to find the luggage. My sister and I stood there for a moment, and I said what seems even today to be the strangest feeling I’ve ever known. “I feel like I’ve come home for the first time.” You would think I would have had some great foresight into where I would end up, but that wasn’t the case. I did have worries about travelling to this new land, which could be summed up in these simple ideas:

    1. Don’t be rude. Americans are always seen as rude, and it’ll be a dead giveaway if you’re arrogant and rude. Be polite, and positive, and patient, (especially when queueing.)
    2. Don’t be loud. Americans are always heard as loud, and no one wants to hear you announce your opinions over the conversations around you. Like someone on a cell phone breaking up with their partner, no one wants to know that “you could have paid me more attention” or “you weren’t the worst I’ve slept with” or “you couldn’t just clean the toilet once in a while?!” (By the way, these are real snippets I’ve overheard while working in retail. Oy.)
    3. Don’t keep asking people to repeat themselves. Americans think it’s the fault of the other person if they can’t keep up with the accent. If someone doesn’t understand you and asks politely for you to say it again, do NOT, under any circumstances, say the exact same thing slower and louder.

    How delighted was I to discover that the people of my dream were wonderfully friendly and generous. I enjoyed Oxford. And all things Harry Potter. And the hotel’s pool, and afternoon tea…Not knowing, however, that the most important element of that trip would be the gathering in Leeds for the Society. Yes, I did have the honour to spend time with an incredibly brilliant bunch of scientists and theologians. I also met the bishop who would later ask me to think about coming to work here. However, that was quite a few years – and a whole pandemic – away from that first trip. For now, I just remember the feeling of getting back on that plane to return to the US. The thought I couldn’t shake from my heart – I’ll be back.

    Even though it was 3 years later. But that’s a story for another day. I have to go pay attention to my housemate now.