One of the weirdest experiences in a New York winter is that of becoming so statically-charged you regularly power a small, in-house fireworks display. It's near the end of January and I'm at a stage where I'm terrified to remove myself from the sofa of an evening and switch off the TV - simply because doing so could ignite the Union Jack tea towel that covers the back of my telly. (I'm not the flag-waving type, but it was a leaving present that hung over my desk in my old office for ages and when I changed jobs and brought all my associated desk rubbish home with me, the top of the telly seemed like a good place for a tea towel and it's stayed there ever since.)
When I think back to the lengths we went to achieve the just-stuck-my-fingers-in-a-socket, hair-on-end, static charge look as kids (rubbing our heads with balloons among other entertaining tricks) it seems like such a waste - at the very least I could be entertaining small children with my sparky antics but as it is I'm reduced to wiping everything with tumble-dryer sheets and steering clear of anything electric without having previously stamped around the floor and smeared myself against the walls in a bid to de-electrify myself. All rather problematic while I'm nursing an addiction to The Wire, which requires me to switch the television both on AND off AND touch a remote control....
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Inaugurations
Exactly 20 years ago today I was sat in the cafeteria of Douglas G. Grafflin Elementary School in Chappaqua, New York, eating my packed lunch and watching a large television showing Ronald Reagan and his wife climbing aboard a plane (or perhaps a helicopter). I was not quite eight and my family had been in the U.S. for less than six months.
I am pretty sure I remember this only because it was the most ginormous television I had ever seen, and because it's appearance in the cafeteria was a complete surprise. I had no idea why it was on (the only other time I remember it being on in my two and a half years at the school was for a shuttle launch**). It wasn't officially explained to us that we were watching an important event - although maybe teachers had explained it to the earlier (younger) lunch shift and assumed us second graders could figure it out for ourselves. I think I must have asked someone why the telly was on. All I'm left with is the image, which may or may not be an accurate memory* - of Reagan and his wife having wreathes of flowers around their necks and the announcer saying they were off to Hawaii.
For a long time, I assumed it was the case that when a president stopped being a president, he was banished from the country.
Watching the inauguration in snatches today from much smaller televisions in an office in Times Square, New York, it seemed to me that George W. Bush is probably looking forward to some kind of exile from Washington, DC. He never seemed entirely comfortable there.
---
*I've tried to research this via Google and had no luck. Anyone know - did Reagan go to Hawaii after leaving office?
** I also can't remember why we got to watch this particular shuttle launch during lunch, though I'm now guessing it might have been the launch of the Hubble telescope. I remember being terrified I'd see the shuttle explode. For some reason, we had an easy-read book in the second grade classroom all about the Challenger crash - it should have carried a warning label for sensitive souls like myself (my mother was a teacher - and athough I'm pretty sure she never had any dreams of space flight, it gave me nightmares).
I am pretty sure I remember this only because it was the most ginormous television I had ever seen, and because it's appearance in the cafeteria was a complete surprise. I had no idea why it was on (the only other time I remember it being on in my two and a half years at the school was for a shuttle launch**). It wasn't officially explained to us that we were watching an important event - although maybe teachers had explained it to the earlier (younger) lunch shift and assumed us second graders could figure it out for ourselves. I think I must have asked someone why the telly was on. All I'm left with is the image, which may or may not be an accurate memory* - of Reagan and his wife having wreathes of flowers around their necks and the announcer saying they were off to Hawaii.
For a long time, I assumed it was the case that when a president stopped being a president, he was banished from the country.
Watching the inauguration in snatches today from much smaller televisions in an office in Times Square, New York, it seemed to me that George W. Bush is probably looking forward to some kind of exile from Washington, DC. He never seemed entirely comfortable there.
---
*I've tried to research this via Google and had no luck. Anyone know - did Reagan go to Hawaii after leaving office?
** I also can't remember why we got to watch this particular shuttle launch during lunch, though I'm now guessing it might have been the launch of the Hubble telescope. I remember being terrified I'd see the shuttle explode. For some reason, we had an easy-read book in the second grade classroom all about the Challenger crash - it should have carried a warning label for sensitive souls like myself (my mother was a teacher - and athough I'm pretty sure she never had any dreams of space flight, it gave me nightmares).
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Do British schools make British people?
I've been going through one of those expat phases and thinking a lot about what makes British people British - and, in particular, what makes me feel British. A lot of these thoughts are coming back to schooling, which I guess is no surprise given it takes up the most part of one's formative years. I've narrowed it down to a handful of uniquely British features about British schools that I survived and now lead me to identify with other Brits as 'being British' -- whatever that means:
1. The words School Assembly make your arse ache. You spent multiple mornings aged 4 to 16 often sat cross-legged on a cold gym floor, singing hymns badly and occassionally offering up a polite but not overtly religious prayer for the school holidays to be extended or for the hall floor to warm up. In later years, you got to sit in chairs apart from the times when you were called up to perform some embarassing skit in front of your peers or read out the rugby/netball/hockey scores while the bad kids at the back jeered.
2. A 'playground' conjures up images of concrete swathes, scattered with blazers and school bags used for competing games of football (soccer).
3. Exams, exams and more exams.
I gather they're mostly called 'tests' here and are more often than not of the multiple-choice, verbal-reasoning variety. If you're a Brit, the months of May and June remind you of sitting at lonely desks watching a clock tick increasingly slowly while teachers pace up and down beside you. The last weeks of August remind you of getting results and everyone on the local news that night doing better than you.
Most Brits I know date themselves by what was happening when they took their GCSEs or 'A' levels. Eg, "The year I took my GCSEs was the coldest June on record and so-and-so's hands froze up and she had to go to the bog with a teacher and put them under a hot tap." Or, "When I was supposed to be revising for my 'A' levels, we went out one night and my friend Dave met Damon Albarn in a pub and twatted him one for writing that irritating 'Country House' song."
4. Rainy Day Playtime - your infancy was filled with days on end when it rained and you couldn't go outside. On the days you got to go outside, you spent most of your time looking up and worrying about whether it was going to start raining harder any minute. When you were stuck inside, teachers made you do extra work. Or clean the 'common areas' or something equally soul-destroying and stiff-upper-lip building.
5. Half term holidays. Oh how I wish I still had half terms. I think they're a brilliant concept for kids - less so, I gather for parents, who are unable to travel or do anything with the kids because the clever travel companies jack up the prices of everything over half term.... But I could really do with a half term now. I still think of half term when it gets to the end of October, in particular. I can't imagine that Spring Break, for all that it features in so many high school movies, can really be all that... I'd rather have a half term holiday any day.
So for me, British schools helped make me British - and I didn't even once have to pledge my allegiance to the Union Jack. But beyond pledging to a flag or singing an anthem - were there any features of your school life that make you feel like you have something that identifies you, or connects you, with your fellow countrymen?
1. The words School Assembly make your arse ache. You spent multiple mornings aged 4 to 16 often sat cross-legged on a cold gym floor, singing hymns badly and occassionally offering up a polite but not overtly religious prayer for the school holidays to be extended or for the hall floor to warm up. In later years, you got to sit in chairs apart from the times when you were called up to perform some embarassing skit in front of your peers or read out the rugby/netball/hockey scores while the bad kids at the back jeered.
2. A 'playground' conjures up images of concrete swathes, scattered with blazers and school bags used for competing games of football (soccer).
3. Exams, exams and more exams.
I gather they're mostly called 'tests' here and are more often than not of the multiple-choice, verbal-reasoning variety. If you're a Brit, the months of May and June remind you of sitting at lonely desks watching a clock tick increasingly slowly while teachers pace up and down beside you. The last weeks of August remind you of getting results and everyone on the local news that night doing better than you.
Most Brits I know date themselves by what was happening when they took their GCSEs or 'A' levels. Eg, "The year I took my GCSEs was the coldest June on record and so-and-so's hands froze up and she had to go to the bog with a teacher and put them under a hot tap." Or, "When I was supposed to be revising for my 'A' levels, we went out one night and my friend Dave met Damon Albarn in a pub and twatted him one for writing that irritating 'Country House' song."
4. Rainy Day Playtime - your infancy was filled with days on end when it rained and you couldn't go outside. On the days you got to go outside, you spent most of your time looking up and worrying about whether it was going to start raining harder any minute. When you were stuck inside, teachers made you do extra work. Or clean the 'common areas' or something equally soul-destroying and stiff-upper-lip building.
5. Half term holidays. Oh how I wish I still had half terms. I think they're a brilliant concept for kids - less so, I gather for parents, who are unable to travel or do anything with the kids because the clever travel companies jack up the prices of everything over half term.... But I could really do with a half term now. I still think of half term when it gets to the end of October, in particular. I can't imagine that Spring Break, for all that it features in so many high school movies, can really be all that... I'd rather have a half term holiday any day.
So for me, British schools helped make me British - and I didn't even once have to pledge my allegiance to the Union Jack. But beyond pledging to a flag or singing an anthem - were there any features of your school life that make you feel like you have something that identifies you, or connects you, with your fellow countrymen?
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Two nations, separated by a common language...
After a couple of years here, I'm able to go days almost forgetting I use the English language differently to most of those around me. Then, something inevitably trips me up. It might be a spilled beer that makes me shout "Kitchen paper!" Quickly followed by some swearing and frantic gesturing to any Americans at hand who might be able to guess what on earth I'm talking about. "Paper towel" just doesn't quite come to the tip of my tongue in a liquid emergency.
Last week, I was writing about someone who'd been "at the coal face" of the financial crisis. I had dithered around searching for another phrase but, when you're writing about it every day, everything starts to seem cliche - so I left the cliche there, and fully expected the inevitable call from an editor asking if I could come up with a better expression. When the (American) editor called, he asked me what I meant by "coal face". Being the eager-to-please kind of person I am, I skipped this question and presented him with several alternative descriptions. But he insisted - what did I mean by "at the coal face"? He hadn't ever come across the expression. It had never occurred to me before that "at the coal face" didn't translate - and, growing up in an era when mines were closing down all over the country, I never would have thought that the evidence of England's mining past could be found in my vocabulary.
Other words I have problem with are 'serviette' and 'napkin'. I know and use both - but I forget which is common and understood here. I also have difficulty pronouncing the state 'Maryland'. I think about it so much before I say it that it comes out even worse than if I just gave up and said 'Mary-Land' - a bit like an American in London trying to pronounce Marylebone for the first time.
So, as most of you other expats have been abroad much longer than I have - are there any words or phrases that still trip you up? And for the locals, are there any times when you've been abroad and learned something new about the oddities of your own language, just by trying to make yourself understood?
Last week, I was writing about someone who'd been "at the coal face" of the financial crisis. I had dithered around searching for another phrase but, when you're writing about it every day, everything starts to seem cliche - so I left the cliche there, and fully expected the inevitable call from an editor asking if I could come up with a better expression. When the (American) editor called, he asked me what I meant by "coal face". Being the eager-to-please kind of person I am, I skipped this question and presented him with several alternative descriptions. But he insisted - what did I mean by "at the coal face"? He hadn't ever come across the expression. It had never occurred to me before that "at the coal face" didn't translate - and, growing up in an era when mines were closing down all over the country, I never would have thought that the evidence of England's mining past could be found in my vocabulary.
Other words I have problem with are 'serviette' and 'napkin'. I know and use both - but I forget which is common and understood here. I also have difficulty pronouncing the state 'Maryland'. I think about it so much before I say it that it comes out even worse than if I just gave up and said 'Mary-Land' - a bit like an American in London trying to pronounce Marylebone for the first time.
So, as most of you other expats have been abroad much longer than I have - are there any words or phrases that still trip you up? And for the locals, are there any times when you've been abroad and learned something new about the oddities of your own language, just by trying to make yourself understood?
Sunday, January 4, 2009
Cucumbers
Not a very seasonal post, perhaps, but I was making tzatziki for a New Year party and happened to be thinking about U.S. versus British cucumbers... Yes, even the humble cucumber seems different here. But not for the reasons you people back home might expect.
I actually think that the common cucumber found in U.S. supermarkets (at least, the pathetic New York attempts at supermarkets) is better than standard U.K. supermarket cucumbers. The land of ginormous, homogenized fruit and veg may actually out-do Blighty when it comes to that most English of garden plants.
The cucumbers here are smaller and tastier with a much thicker skin than supermarket cucumbers back home. Some of them here are even knobbly, like the cucumbers my mum grew in the garden. British supermarket cucumbers, on the other hand, tend to be on the larger side with much thinner skins - and, dare I say it, rather less tasty. Are they different breeds of cucumbers, or have centuries of high demand from hordes of cucumber-sandwich eating toffs caused British cucumbers to be over-bred and watered down?
I actually think that the common cucumber found in U.S. supermarkets (at least, the pathetic New York attempts at supermarkets) is better than standard U.K. supermarket cucumbers. The land of ginormous, homogenized fruit and veg may actually out-do Blighty when it comes to that most English of garden plants.
The cucumbers here are smaller and tastier with a much thicker skin than supermarket cucumbers back home. Some of them here are even knobbly, like the cucumbers my mum grew in the garden. British supermarket cucumbers, on the other hand, tend to be on the larger side with much thinner skins - and, dare I say it, rather less tasty. Are they different breeds of cucumbers, or have centuries of high demand from hordes of cucumber-sandwich eating toffs caused British cucumbers to be over-bred and watered down?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
