Adventures in American Bashing

This afternoon I got into a heated conversation right in front of my apartment block with a young American medical student who exited our train at my normal metro stop.

During our train ride, said student was loudly lecturing two fellow train passengers about the glorious US health care system and openly bashing the NHS with totally inaccurate information. He was even stating half-truths about the American system, not just the NHS! One English woman tried to correct his inaccuracies (politely and quietly of course). He treated her like she was stupid and inferred that she didn't know any better because she hadn't lived in a 'capitalist system'. He blatantly stated that if Brits HAD lived in a country like the US, they'd realise how better it was than here in the UK (at the same time admitting he'd only been living here for a few weeks!). The nice English lady got off at the very next stop, and I'm pretty sure that wasn't where she had meant to go. :(

I was absolutely FURIOUS for the entire 15 minutes I had to listen to him go on. Passengers were going to the next train down to avoid him. And honestly, he wasn't a wacko by any means - he was just a cocky spoiled American rich kid trying to spread his abundant 'knowledge and wisdom' to the uninformed British. He basically was a living stereotype and it really upset me.

I told myself I wasn't going to say anything to unless he got off at my stop. I made a promise to myself that if he DID get off at my stop, I'd confront him. This was a bargain I made because I thought it was a safe bet I wouldn't have to say a word. I kept thinking, surely he won't get off at Regent Centre, why would he?!

Fuck. I totally forgot about ASDA. American students in Newcastle love Walmart's UK chain, so of course he was coming to my stop - it's the closest ASDA to where he lives. They sell refried beans and Kraft dinner there. It's an American student mecca. DAMMIT.

As soon as we exited the train, I pounced on him. I said 'you're American, aren't you?' to which he said 'Of course I am, I wouldn't be anything else!'. I asked if I could speak to him about the things he was saying on the train. I corrected his misinformation, told him I thought he should wait til he's lived here for longer and learned more about the NHS to judge it, gave him a 'as a fellow American, I feel I must tell you...' speech, etc. I think I totally freaked the poor kid out and made him feel pretty bad; however I just couldn't ignore him, I HAD to say something. He was visibly offending the British passengers with his nonsense and I don't think he had a clue until I told him so!

Anyway, I'm pretty sure he'll never get off at the Regent Centre stop to go to ASDA ever again for fear of running into that crazy Anglophile American beotch who lives across the street. I never saw someone cross the North Road so quickly before - he was dying to get away after I thanked him for listening to me.

Regardless, I feel good about confronting him, but I also feel a little bit like a bully as well. Watch out people, I think I'm turning into an American basher myself. Bah.

(sur)Reality Check

Generally speaking, I’m starting to forget I live in a foreign country. Sometimes when I used the word ‘home’, I’m actually referring to here rather than the good old US of A. The transition has been slow, subtle and admittedly painful at times, but it’s happening nonetheless. My vernacular is evolving at an impressive pace, as well as my wardrobe. I’m still glaringly American to everyone here of course, but I am pretty sure I seem less American than before to those Stateside. Basically, I’m acclimating, simple as that. Yet sometimes I have these weird almost out-of-body moments where I become acutely cognizant of the fact that I am an alien, that this culture isn’t MY culture and that really, truly I don’t understand what it’s like to be British any more than they can possibly understand what it’s like NOT to be British. These moments occur less and less frequently these days, but when they do, it’s quite powerful.

I had one of these strange epiphanies today on the Metro, coming home from work. ‘Epiphany’ isn’t exactly the correct word to describe the feeling though, it’s more like a sense of ‘deja-vu’ combined with ‘what the f*ck?’ and ‘where am I?’ all rolled into a ten-second mini roller coaster of the mind. There wasn’t any one thing that set me off today on the train… like every other day, I was reading my book and ignoring everyone around me, constantly stopping mid-sentence to make sure I hadn’t missed my stop. About the third go at double-checking the station sign, I became hyper-conscious of the people around me talking, and how different they sound to me. And then I noticed their clothes and their faces and started thinking about how they grew up compared to me, and within a few seconds I was like ‘Oh my god, I’m in a foreign country, this isn’t my life, this feels so weird.’. A momentary panic ensued followed by the reassuring announcement that the next stop was Regent Centre, which means I was almost home. Home. That’s what I thought instinctively, I’m almost home. And suddenly I didn’t feel foreign or weird or misplaced anymore.

I wonder sometimes if these moments will cease occurring, or if it will always be like this for me? I’m so intrinsically American, and proud to be so, that the thought of losing these periodic moments makes me sad in a way. I don’t crave to be different – I don’t want to stand out all the time. But I also don’t crave to be a nationality I’m not, nor to lose touch with the culture that formed me from infancy. Only time will tell I suppose… wait and see, wait and see.

Public transport pro?

As I travel to Teddington from Durham today, it strikes me that I'm becoming a bit of a pro at utilizing mass transportation. Three months ago I used England's infamous rail and tube stations cautiously and with loads of self-doubt, constantly worried about getting lost or always fumbling like a fool with my bags whilst simultaneously riding an escalator or buying a ticket. Three months ago, a four-plus hour journey to Teddington via public transportation would have put me totally on edge, and by the time I got there, I would have been frazzled. Today I feel incredibly cool and content during my journey, which seems to be a dramatic shift within me. So now I am starting to wonder exactly what has changed.

It's obvious to me that I've become one of the Average Jane commuting masses. I "fit in" somehow, instead of always sticking out like a sore thumb as I did in the recent past (or rather I came off like a car-dependent bus-phobic Middle American to be more accurate). Here is some proof…

I pack my belongings in the manner most optimal for the journey ahead. Roller bag if long stays, backpack for short ones, purse inside backpack if tube AND train, outside if tube only. Always keep both sunglasses AND an umbrella in my bag's side pocket when an outdoor hike is required, as the weather changes rapidly here.

Before departing, I put my Oyster card &/or train tickets in my right hand outermost coat pocket for quick access to the ticket scanner or to show the porter.

Amazingly, I can now both collapse the handle on my suitcase and carry it up tube station stairs all with one hand & in one smooth motion without missing a step (the key is proper thumb-on-handle placement).

I have mostly broken my American habit of always walking on the right side of the gangway, and instead I can weave in and out on the left with ease.

I have memorized all the tube and train stops which I frequent, usually down to the level of knowing which side the doors open at each station, and also what carriage to be on for the post-departure race for first in queue at the taxi stand.

I have all the various fares memorized, and I pay for my tea with exact change whenever possible to keep the snack trolley vendor happy and efficient. Hell, I can even walk up the escalators on the left like a sprinter without feeling any awkwardness, no matter what type of heels I'm wearing!

I assume this change has occurred in me slowly over time, but for some reason today it seems dramatic and sudden. I mean... sure, I still get lost or trip over the tube gap from time to time still, but its less scary than before and usually due to me being the clumsiest person alive instead of due to my public transport naivety. And that subtle difference makes me feel so good.

Sent from my iPhone.

Cultural Difference #1: Fancy Dress Parties

My darling Will and I are going to a Christmas/Holiday party in London on December 5th that is a movie-themed fancy dress party. And no, fancy dress does NOT mean ball gowns and tuxes in the UK. Fancy dress parties in Britain are all about costumes... and they are thrown for absolutely no reason at all. Unlike the US, the Brits seem hell bent on costume parties year round, not just at Halloween. Here is what Wikipedia has to say about it:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fancy_dress#Fancy_Dress_parties_in_Britain

This custom of having themed costume parties any time besides October is foreign to me. Not only do the Brits throw them for holiday parties, but apparently dressing up in themed costumes is popular for Hen Nights (bachelorette parties) and big birthday bashes. For example, Will was out recently with friends and came across a group of women out celebrating their friend's big 4-0. The entire group was dressed up in Medieval-themed fancy dress. Yes, I said Medieval... When I questioned this, he agreed it was incredibly bizarre. Good, I thought, he thinks dressing up in the middle of the year is weird too, I feel safe now. But no.... apparently it was not the fact they were dressed up that Will found bizarre, but instead it was strange because normally women dress up as naughty nurses, slags or something like that for a birthday event! Seriously? I mean, why?! What gets me about this response is that, to my lovely British boy, wearing a costume in public outside of Halloween is perfectly normal , but apparently going the medieval route is a little too much.

I just am not sure if I will get used to this penchant for fancy dress that the Brits seem to have. Maybe I'm just too cheap or easily embarrassed? Not quite sure... but if this is hard for me to swallow, how in the hell am I going to be able to handle Christmas crackers?

finally coming out of the haze

in a fog (day 282)
Originally uploaded by juliehicks75

The last two weeks have been incredibly stressful for me. I have been in a holding pattern related to many major changes in my life. I've been completely dependent upon the workings of of a corporate lawyer in Arkansas, hoping furiously that he really does know how to do his job. Tomorrow, the wait will finally be over. Tomorrow my work permit and entry clearance visa will arrive from the British Consulate in Chicago. Tomorrow I can start to work on the rest of my life. I'm so ready to charge forward and get my shit in order and get my ass to the UK and settle down with my partner Will.

The last couple years have been very challenging for me on a personal and professional basis. Mostly due to my own choices, both good and bad. I don't regret any of it. I've really come very far and grown insanely the last twelve months. For the first time in my adult life, I feel in balance without someone telling me how to live my life like a mother, sister, a therapist or coworker. I am completely confident in the decisions I have made and the future that lies in front of me. I don't feel clouded by romance or cinicism or boredom or mania or anything else that causes so many people to live in a state of suspension between the real and unreal.

Do I think EVERYTHING in my life is going to work out just fine? Nope, I'm pretty sure that's not possible, for anyone anywhere. Do I think that every decision I have made recently, every person I hold close to me, every direction I am facing are true, honest and right for where and who I am now? Yes, I do. And it feels great to be this clear. It feels amazing not be reacting out of emotional knee-jerking for once, but instead to really truly have confidence and contentment over who I am.

Now I just need that little piece of paper inside my passport to arrive tomorrow so that all the plans I've made can be confirmed and I can get started on the next phase of my life. For real this time.