I finally did something I have been wanting to do for ages: I made non-Americans draw a map of the United States, free hand. Two in the sampling pool were English, one was Japanese, and the last from Singapore. The results were hilarious to me, though in the artists’ defense, American’s maps of the US wouldn’t be much better. And if most Americans tried to draw the UK, it would probably just be one small circle labeled “London/England/United Kingdom.” I noticed that simply the shaping of the US was difficult. It ended up as a chunk for most, and while Florida was always remembered, its iconic shape was not. Everyone knew Texas was near the bottom and Canada was on top. Colorado was usually recognized as being in the middle, but this was mostly because I talk about it a lot and point it out on maps to people all the time. Beyond that, places like Hawaii and Alaska were really just a gamble. There were some funny stereotypes that came out of the experiment. There is an impression of racism in the south, along with jazz. Things like lobsters in Maine, retirees in Florida, and Los Angeles as a state all its own in the west were some of the ideas people had. A quick note, though, is that all these maps were made in a joking and friendly manner and any apparent biases against the US are simply "banter." This map was my favorite because of the abstract shape and labels. Salt Lake City is inscribed over Utah- this state and city are apparently well known by many in the England because the history of Mormonism is apparently taught quite thoroughly. I also appreciate that Alaska is almost the same size as Canada and the attempt to place Hawaii in the Atlantic before realizing it was in the Pacific Ocean. The above map was drawn by my Japanese flatmate. I apologize if the handwriting is hard to read, and I can't tell you what's happening around Hawaii besides a quiet mentioning of Pearl Harbor via the word "remember." I thought it was funny that large cities were more likely to be remembered than the names of states. Also, jazz! The shape in this map (drawn by my friend from Singapore) is wonderfully abstract. I appreciate the attempts to place Texas and LA. Honestly, the more you look at this map the more of a mess it appears to be. Of course, knowledge of US geography isn't universal. I didn't expect very high success rates just as I hope no one would expect me to be able to draw, say, all Asian or European countries. But to see how the US leaves an impression on international minds is both fascinating and hilarious. For example, North Dakota is in the north and South Dakota is in the south. A logical, if inaccurate, impression. And last but not least, by another English person. Simple but elegant.
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All in all, it was a memorable day in England...
This week, someone asked me if there were any expectations of mine that England had not met. In other words, was there anything that I had expected to be an English thing that wasn't true. And there are a few! First of all, I feel extremely lied to by Harry Potter. In this iconic Christmas scene, Ron and Harry wish each other a "Happy Christmas." Which led to my natural expectation that British people wished each other "Happy Christmas" rather than "Merry Christmas." Unfortunately, untrue. While wishing someone Happy Christmas isn't unheard of in England, almost everyone says "Merry Christmas." I was heartbroken.
That isn't where British stereotypes have had the greatest let down, though. The most shocking fact will have to be with the consumption of tea. I was under the impression, like most Americans, that all British people drink a lot of tea. In my mind, there was an image of British people coming together every day around late afternoon to sit down and enjoy a classic cup of tea while discussing the queen and Sherlock Holmes. I have noticed that British people do take their tea seriously: every kitchen in the country has a kettle. This is different than in American households like my own, where owning a kettle is optional. There is a lot of shock explaining this fact to people here. They demand to know how we warm our water. The answer is either boiling it on the stove, using our coffee makers (which British people don't own?), or microwaving it. I said this and there was only utter shock on the faces of my English friends. But while everyone has a kettle, many young people don't even like tea. To me this was shocking. In my mind, I understood that ever single British person not just liked tea, but loved it. Worshiped it. An tragically untrue stereotype, apparently. An odd thing, though, is that the word tea doesn't only refer to the beverage. The evening meal (what you or I might call "dinner" or "supper"), is often referred to as "tea." I don't know why, but many people do it. If we were to sit down to have an actual cup of tea during an allotted time, the term would likely be "afternoon tea." There are a lot of people who don't drink tea, but those who do are quite strict about how it's made. I've learned the method pretty well at this point, as I have made a few British friends who like tea, so I can share with you the "proper" way to make tea (at least according to one British person):
Last Saturday we made a day trip to the "big city" of Northeast England: Newcastle upon Tyne. Most people just call it Newcastle. It's about 40 minutes away via the Metro (or subway). It's about the same size in population as Colorado Springs (my hometown), but it was founded back in the 2nd century so it's a quite bit older. There's a huge shopping center that we wandered around, and we ended up eating dinner at TGI Friday's. That was a funny experience because the British TGI Friday's felt like that familiar American restaurant, but from another slightly altered dimension. The desserts were amazing, though. I really love seeing other parts of England and will be exploring more soon.
For the past few weeks, I have heard so many fireworks going off in the middle of the night, I could have sworn it must have been the Fourth of July. But, in fact, it was the lead up to what I've dubbed the British version of Independence Day: Bonfire Night. I've tried to understand this night with the various explanations from my flatmates and this is what I have concluded: a man named Guy Fawkes tried to blow up King James with 36 barrels of gunpowder* and so to commemorate that night, British people set off a bunch of fireworks and build big bonfires. This is where that rhyme "Remember, remember the fifth of November" comes from. There are bonfires and lots of fireworks, much like the Fourth. So we went out to the sea, at Roker pier (near Illuminations), to watch. There were tons of fireworks right over the sea, just past the sand. They reflected off the waves, making everything burn twice as bright. The fireworks were close enough that we could feel each explosion. We stood enchanted by the magical display, and it felt familiar and different at the same time. Familiar because I knew these fireworks and their lovely displays, but different because I'd never seen them dancing over a sea before.
As I’ve started texting more people in Britain and communicating with them through various digital means, I started noticing something strange: People kept added ‘x’ or ‘xx’ or even ‘xxx’ to the end of their messages. I could not comprehend it. In one conversation specifically, there were so many letter x’s that I started to wonder if my friend had set ‘xx’ as her signature when she messaged people.
I floated along entirely oblivious until someone finally clarified the situation for me. I remember the question exactly, because it was such a weird one: “Why don’t you ever use kisses in your messages?” “What.” Then came the explanation. Apparently, these various x’s are called ‘kisses.’ Similar to emojis, they are used at the end of messages to convey tone. Specifically a light-hearted and friendly tone. It’s how British people overcome the tonal difficulties of digital messaging. For example, a short sentence (like “Where are you?”) could be seen as abrasive. The ‘x’ or multiple x’s softens the message (making it “Where are you? xx”). The number of x’s also changes the meaning. Typically, the more x’s, the sweeter the message. While not always used, in a familiar setting they are the default for many. Luckily for me, if you don’t use them people understand why rather than feel offended. What is so cool about this to me, though, is that I’ve never seen it in America. I could explain it to any number of my American friends and they will have never heard of it. I don’t know if x’s are used in other countries, but I do know it is a modern linguistic colloquialism that has not reached across the ocean. In order to assimilate to the British culture, I have attempted to use these x’s when I feel so moved in conversation. It still seems a little silly to me, but now that I understand why these x’s are there, the tone of the conversations has drastically improved. It’s incredible how communication can develop so differently. Kisses are probably my favorite difference between the two countries so far just because of how specific it is. So until my next post, Xxx. Illuminations is an annual lights festival in Sunderland along the coast. I went yesterday with some friends.
I debated creating a post on this upcoming subject, mainly because I don't want friends and family to feel bad for me. They need not worry; I continue to enjoy my time across the ocean. But just like in everything, there are ups and downs during my time here.
On this blog, I’ve really focused on the positive sides of my experience. But I think to show only the positive side of my year abroad would be deceptive to myself and to everyone reading these posts. To keep it honest, I’ll now share a revelation from a few days ago. This week was more stressful than previous because things are starting to settle down at the university, but I still feel out of place at times. Classes are picking up, people are falling into rhythms, and homesickness strikes at odd times. Beyond that, I’ve found being abroad really changes how I perceive personal setbacks. Knowing that I am in England for only the school year creates a strange dilemma for myself. I’m here for another eight months. A long time. Yet each day I get a little closer to having to leave. One day flies by. One week flies by. One month flies by. One year flies by. And since I’m here, I feel the need to treasure each day and each moment. To constantly be enjoying myself and making good memories. That’s a lot of pressure to put on some random Tuesday. Especially a random Tuesday when it’s raining and I’m tired and I’m confused and nothing seems to be going right. When I don’t have a good day, it’s not just a bad day. It’s a bad day in England. I feel like I’m failing myself and my entire experience. Then the doubt (which I’ve dubbed “culture-shock doubt”) creeps in: what if I’m not supposed to be here, what am I doing in a foreign country, I’ll never do things right in this country, everyone thinks I’m dumb and weird, I’m frustrated. Confused. Exhausted. I have to remind myself that being in England doesn’t mean I won’t have bad days. Bad days are a part of life no matter what country you’re in. Most days I do well here. When I explain what I’ve done to people I can’t help but feel proud of myself and what I’m doing. I was told by a native British person the other day that I’ve adapted well to England. That made me feel like maybe I was doing this whole thing right. Maybe I am supposed to be in England. Yes, I have bad days in England just like in America. And, yeah, sometimes I miss home and sometimes the culture-shock doubt is crippling. But I’m in England, something I’ve dreamed of for ages. I’m having fun and doing well most of the time. That’s something to celebrate. It’s been exactly a month since I left for England, so I am attempting to review a time that has been so different from everything I have ever known.
The biggest challenge has been getting used to little changes. England is relatively similar to America, but there are still so many differences. They’re all small and they chip away at my sanity at points. Whether it’s the slang or the food or certain cultural norms, there’s been a lot for me to keep up with. I am participating in as many activities as I can. There’s something new to do every night. For example, tonight I am going to be watching American football with English people. I think it will be a fascinating experience. Related to journalism, I am writing for the online university website, SR-News, and have been given the role of News Planner. This week will be my first attempting that. Not sticking to only print this year, one of my classes is called “Newsroom,” and every Friday we go in at 9:30 a.m. to produce a live radio show at 3:30 p.m. I’ve only done the class twice so far, but it has been intense and exciting working as a radio reporter. Already I have interviewed a taxi company and attended a press conference at a police station. To branch out my social circle, I auditioned for a play titled “The Lion, The Witch, And The Bedroom Door”- a stage adaptation of “The Lion, The Witch, And The Wardrobe.” I got the part of Susan, the older sister, which was a far bigger role than I had dared hope to get. The people and the show are full of energy (and I don’t even have to fake a British accent). It reminds me of all the theater I did back home while still pushing me outside my comfort zone. One thing that has surprised me is the number of international students around me. I didn’t realize, but 28 per cent of students at the University of Sunderland are international. Some are doing just an exchange semester or exchange year like me, but others have chosen to complete their entire course at this school. The number of different countries and cultures I have met at has been mind-boggling: Singapore, Nigeria, Germany, Australia, Ireland, Malaysia, China, Spain, Poland, Japan, Egypt, Jordan, Greece. When I sit in any group, we get a small sample of the world. It reminds me how big this planet is and how many cultures there are to understand. Sunderland and I are agreeing well with each other. My goal this month is to start exploring the areas beyond this city. Everyone keeps saying I should go to Newcastle (and Manchester and Liverpool and Yorkshire just about every area in the country) and Scotland isn’t that far away either. There’s a lot to explore and time just keeps on ticking. I continue to feel eager for what it all has to offer. [We wrote a personal article for my Magazine Writing class this week and my professor encouraged me to write about the linguistic challenges I've faced in this country. This is what I came up with.] I’m sitting in a taxi in a foreign country on my way to the place I’m about to call home for the next nine months. Beside me, a middle-aged driver is trying to make small talk. I say trying because it’s a pretty one-sided conversation at this point, specifically his side. He is very kind and is giving me lots of advice for the school year… I think.
I’m hanging on to his every word and I could have sworn when I got in the cab that we were speaking the same language, but as we have settled into the conversation, I can’t understand a thing he’s saying. His words dance around my jetlagged mind and I keep wondering if this man is speaking English or just making vaguely English-sounding noises. I’ve already said “What?” to him at least 20 times and I’m sure he’s starting to think that I’m stupid. I’m in a foreign country, but that country is England and I come from the United States. Never did I imagine that after speaking English all my life I would struggle as much as I am to communicate with a fellow English speaker. My eventual solution during the cab ride is to start nodding and smiling. And I’m just hoping that he doesn’t ask me any more questions, because I might cry if I have to say “What?” one more time. Back in January, I decided to study abroad for the school year. It took an aching amount of paperwork and quite a few headaches, but I somehow ended up here at the University of Sunderland. I thought I was making things easier for myself by going to another English speaking country. What I didn’t take into account was how diverse English can be as a language. Speaking with the same letters and words doesn’t necessarily mean we’re going to sound similar or even use those words for the same things. I’m told that as far as understanding the English language goes, the Northeast is not the best area for an American. Even other English folk from more southern places struggle to understand ‘Mackem,’ the slang speech of Sunderland. The method that I’ve developed to navigate this northern bastardization of the English language is called the “smile and nod.” When I’m speaking to a northerner (especially far north, especially with loud music playing in the background, and especially if one or two drinks have been consumed by the speaking party before the conversation), there are entire sentences that I lose. When this occurs, I smile and nod and hope that an active response is not required. It has about a 55 per cent success rate. This strategy has helped me through a few conversations, but more and more people are catching on. I smile and nod, raising my eyebrows like I’m really interested in what this person has to say. They smile back, also raising their eyebrows, but in a way that requests a response. I keep smiling and nodding, panic creeping into my eyes as we both realize that I’m entirely lost. “You didn’t catch any of that, did you?” Nope. For whatever reason, many English people do not seem to be interested in properly pronouncing words. Syllables blur together, letters have different sounds. And there are only so many times I can repeat “What?” before I start to feel like a idiot. That is without even mentioning all the slang words (like ‘marra’), the similar words that have different meanings (chips and crisps/candy and sweets) and the fact that everyone keeps asking me if I’m all right as a greeting. English may be my first language, but I’m not so sure what is being spoken around here. It is a challenge, but a few weeks have passed since that cab ride and I am already doing better. In fact, during my most recent ride with a (different) middle-aged driver, I can proudly say I understood a solid 83 per cent of what he was saying. This may have simply been because he had less of an accent, but I like to think it was because I’m improving my Mackem comprehension. The speech in Sunderland and England in general can be bizarre and it does feeling like people are speaking a foreign language sometimes. That doesn’t mean I can’t learn the local dialect. I have to focus a bit more when people (especially middle-aged cab drivers) are talking. But I’m adapting and learning. And who knows? Maybe I’ll be Mackem-fluent by the time my year abroad is over. |
Amy Golden
Amy will be spending the academic year at the University of Sunderland in England studying journalism. Archives
February 2018
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