I live in England now.
Today marks two months since I made the trek across the pond at the end of August, and I must say I’m settling in nicely. I’m always amazed at how adaptable humans are, I live in a new community, with new people (with some old familiar faces), and a new job. The time I lived in Saskatchewan and the time I’ve lived here seem to have rolled over seamlessly and comfortably, which sometimes leaves me feeling bewildered if I think about it for too long.
I stick out, not necessarily meaning to, but wherever I go, my accent is sure to follow. In London, most people seem very unconcerned with it, but living in a little town, I am often stopped to ask if I’m American, I correct them by telling them that I’m Canadian, to which there is usually a smile, or some kind of other exchange about how they have family there, they either want to or have visited there, or that they might have guessed my accent was Canadian because it sounds softer than the other American accents they’re more familiar with from T.V. For example. I was in Lush when one of the employees came up to me:
“Are you American?”
“No, I’m Canadian”
“Ah, I should have guessed, you don’t sound like the people I listen to on CSI, I love CSI, don’t you?”
“To be honest, I’ve never seen it”
She has a shocked look on her face, and then proceeds to tell me about CSI.
When I first arrived here, I grabbed a cab and the cab driver assumed right away that I was Canadian, and when I asked how he came to that conclusion he responded by saying:
“Well, I find if I assume people are American, people get offended, but if I assume everyone with a North American accent is a Canadian, Canadians feel welcomed, and Americans feel flattered”.
I found this to be an interesting statement, but because I was jet-lagged and in a new country, I thought pushing this discussion piece would be best done at another time (if it ever came).
Moving to another country tends to test your common sense skills. Simple things you take for granted doing everyday, are now time consuming tasks that often leave you feeling humbled. During my first week here, I was kindly invited to stay with some other Canadians that had already been established here, so that I wouldn’t have to stay at my flat while I was waiting for my other Canadian roommates to arrive. They were gone one morning, and I needed to make a British phone call. This seemed like a simple task, but I soon found out it wasn’t. I had not yet set up my cell phone, and so I had this portable phone in my hand and every time I dialed different variations of numbers, the end result was the same, I wasn’t able to call who I needed. I then did the only thing I could think of doing, I went to the streets. I flagged down this lovely older couple who were visiting their grand children.
“Excuse me, can you help me?” (holding a portable phone)
“Uh, sure?” (says the older man)
“How do I call people here?” (handing him over the phone with a little piece of paper)
“Aren’t from around here?” (says the older man)
“No” (I just moved here two days ago)
He stands there fiddling with the phone.
“We’re not from around here either, so I’m not sure if we can help you” (says his wife)
“No, but we’re from England dear, surely we know how to dial a phone!” (he says to his wife)
He tries several times to no avail, even the man from Britain can’t dial the phone. He apologizes profusely going back along his way, and while I am so grateful for this help, I literally have no way to call this number. I stand on the front stoop of the house, staring at this phone, using every brain cell that is available to me, trying to figure out a solution. I then see the older gentleman running back towards me, yelling,
“Dial 0 before the number!”
I frantically dial the 0 and then the rest of the number, holding the phone to my ear waiting anxiously, the man staring at me, his eyes wide with expectation, I stand there waiting for the sound of ringing…and then I heard it! I don’t think I’ve ever grinned so hard in my life.
“It worked! It’s ringing!” I yell out to the man high-fiving him, thanking him profusely. He grins in return running back to his wife, she’s giving me the thumbs up from a distance.
It’s all in the little things.
That’s just one example of the many little frustrations and triumphs I’ve had living in this country. When people ask about the differences, they’re so subtle, they’re often difficult to explain, Canada and England are so similar but yet so different. Getting a bank card feels like a small victory, grocery shopping for the first time feels like one of the most mind boggling things I’ve ever done, and things like getting a GP are an ongoing process.
I live in a place called Dartford which is a town about 30 minutes outside of London by train. For a while I had very little to compare Dartford to aside from London (and is anything really comparable to London?), and it seems clearer to me now that Dartford differs from other towns I’ve been to in terms of its’ socio-economic standing. From the locals that I’ve been lucky enough to interact with, it seems that Dartford has taken a bit of a fall over the last thirty years or so. I’m not sure why, or if that’s purely nostalgia from people who remember things differently, or if Dartford was indeed another kind of place. But it does seem to have a bit of a melancholic vibe, I’m not sure if that`s because it’s cloudy 90% of the time here, or if it’s something else. It does not have the hustle and bustle of other towns I’ve visited, it’s got a quieter feel, which I must say can be quite comforting after getting off the train, walking along the little river up the hill back to my part of the world.
So, how do I sum up my first two months here? It hasn’t been perfect, but I’m meeting wonderful people, seeing/experiencing lovely things and working in a job that challenges me in ways I’ve needed for a long time. With all things considered, I think I’m doing pretty well.
These are vacuum cleaners that they use here in the UK that are absolutely adorable. They use them at the school I work at, and when I was gushing about adorable they were, I was told they had a female counterpart, a pink vacuum named “Hetty”, I nearly died laughing because it was so ridiculous.
There are snails everywhere,
View from my backyard
Some Bansky found at Notting Hill
George Orwell at Notting Hill.
Local Pub (although strangely, I haven’t been in it yet.)
Really beautiful park by my house that has this great view of the town. However what makes it even more unique is that there are gravestones all along the perimeter of the park, but it’s not considered to be a cemetery.
Some of the headstones in the park.
Super cute, “Little Queen St.”
River shot by my house.
Dartford Saturday Farmers Market. I love going here because stall owners yell back and forth to each other and call out deals to customers, it’s a great experience.
My street.
One of the houses I pass by on my walk home.
Another house I pass by on my walk home.
My tap, I love how it tells me the date it was made on the top part of each faucet.
Self explanatory.
Greenwich
View of London from the top of Greenwich.
Big Ben.
All different views of Westminster Abbey, the tourist attraction I probably want to see the most, but I didn’t make it there in time to go inside.
A very blurry look at London Bridge lighting up when it is about to open for ships coming through.
A Lill Perspective 