Despite its British colonial heritage and shared wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, America and Great Britain have somewhat divergent ways. Many would assume that a move across the pond to United Kingdom would be seamless due to the obvious uniting factor, a love for George Michael. However pop icons can not be the glue that hold our great declining nations together, for there are deep fissures in our union.
The English language, what should be our common denominator, has failed me time and time again over the past six months as I attempt to assimilate to my adopted mother land. Having spent time in Spain and Israel, I knew that not speaking the native tongue can really inhibit an experience abroad and also make it extremely hard to make friends and purchase feminine products in more rural areas (for those of you who were present for the yesh po tamponim debacle, you'll know what I am referring to). Alas my move to London would signify the first time that I might actually get to know a place in its own language instead of through sloppy translations and repeated pleas of "bathroom?" to shopkeepers and waiters. English, the only language I speak, would prove to be my key that would unlock London and its ancient mysteries! Or so I thought.
To my great shock and surprise, it turns out that cultural differences and an ocean have separated many words from their meanings as I know them. Restroom, something that I use frequently due to the somewhat exorbitant amount of water I ingest on a daily basis, is not a word that gets much of a reaction over here in the Great Britain. Loo however, seems to mean something other than a man's name. This the preferred word for bathroom makes me think I'm being introduced to someone. When people aren't running to the loo, they are letting me know that they "need a wee." While this is understandable enough, it is not something that one would expect to hear in an office, at dinner, in class, wherever. Despite all their claims of subtlety the Brits feel the need to explain in full what the intend to do in the bathroom.
After you're back from the loo someone might offer you a biscuit. A biscuit, you might think, is warm and puffy and generally comes with fried chicken, some sort of breakfast sandwich, or a turkey meal. If you did think this, you'd be wrong. Instead a biscuit refers to sub par chocolate chip cookies. That's right, stop your mouth from watering. Also, don't bother asking for jello in the grocery store. Even describing it as "that wobbly stuff with Bill Cosby on the box" won't help. It's jelly, and jelly is preserves or jam...I'm still not sure. Then there is the spelling. The r's are misplaced, s's are everywhere z'd used to be, and u's keep sneaking in where you'd least expect them. Writing academic papers in British is hard, its like a second language.
In an attempt to bridge culture gaps I have taken to pulling from classic British films in order to appear more English. In one recent conversation with a native friend I said she was acting quite randy. While I meant to relay that she was being a bit feisty and quippy, I was quickly informed that randy did not mean feisty. Randy, it turns out, means horny and is not normally used in an exchange among girls in the midst of a larger social gathering. Imagine my discomfort when the conversation went quiet and everyone turned to me as if I was a bit crazy and wildly inappropriate. I guess using Austin Powers as a cultural yard stick wasn't the best of ideas.
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