I've been pondering over the past couple of days how differently I seem to experiencing life abroad knowing that I'll be here for a prolonged stay, rather than just for a ten day vacation. One of the most profound is how I seemed to have stopped "seeing" my daily surroundings. (In fact, all of the brick buildings and houses I thought to be so quaint have become mundane and repetetive. On the up side, when I travelled to the Cotswolds this weekend I was quite happy to see the village and the stone houses and buildings as very sweet and refreshing...perhaps it's because their stone is a yellow-ish color in contrast to the red brick that surrounds me where I am). The most challenging of differences, however, is the change of my personal confidence and freedom. Let me explain.
Last night I went for my first real drive since I've been here. And it's pretty much like learning how to drive all over again. As you may know, England loves the manual car and of course that's my only option. Luckily for me I was taught how to drive a manual (thanks, pop) but I'm far from fluent. And as I'm sure you know, they drive on the left here, which means the driver's side is on the right and the gear shift is on the left. So imagine me, still learning the rules of the road trying to get used to shifting with my left (and certainly NOT dominant hand). For the first 15 minutes in the driver's seat it hadn't even crossed my mind in the slightest to check my mirrors. That is until a motorcyclist zoomed passed me so quickly that I nearly ate my heart! It was only at that moment that I thought I should maybe take a peek behind me every now and again.
So here I am, driving WAY under the speed limit because I'm concentrating so much on what gear I'm in, what gear I should shift to, staying in the left lane and trying to guess the distance between my passenger's side and the cars parked on the road (I only almost hit two cars....and drove on the curb once). Dave is sitting next to me offering encouragement and, as softly as he can, constructive criticism. (I only almost gave him a heartattack once...I think. "STOP! Oh my god. Uhhhh...kind of close to that car there, baby. OK good - now give him some room to get by. OK, now be sure to give way to your right. Put on your signal - make a right. Not that one. OK, let's turn around.") I felt just like a 16-year old. Nervous. Excited. Humiliated. Relieved to get out of the car.
The other situations are far more subtle and can be something as simple as not being able to immediately understand what someone is saying (I don't think I've ever asked people to repeat themselves so much as I do here). And all of it's quite benign, really, but whether its not knowing which merchant will accept my credit card for payment (they're on the chip and pin system here which means my card has to be swiped - some stores aren't equipped to do it and other are phasing it out) or not being in touch with the local fashions I am left feeling a bit awkward, very much like a teenager. I can't drive on my own, have to ask what everything means, and operate within limited boundaries. In spite of all this, I can't help but wonder if I've been given a second chance at youth. And in some ways I've got all of the advantages - I'm not from here which means I don't have a history and can re-invent myself into anything I want and have the wisdom of experience to know how to what situations to avoid (I think). Like a teenager I've felt a bit shy when talking to strangers because I know my accent will be so obvious (and American); and at times I know, as a jeans and t-shirt kind of gal, my fashion sense is wildly different from the girls around here with the leggings and mini-skirt phenomenon. Why not just be proudly and confidently who I am - a rugged young woman from the prairie-land in the heart of America. An artist. A dreamer. A philosopher. A bit out of touch with modern culture. After all, I've been given the rare and fantastic opportinity of drinking the sweet nectar derived from the Fountain of Youth.
Last night I went for my first real drive since I've been here. And it's pretty much like learning how to drive all over again. As you may know, England loves the manual car and of course that's my only option. Luckily for me I was taught how to drive a manual (thanks, pop) but I'm far from fluent. And as I'm sure you know, they drive on the left here, which means the driver's side is on the right and the gear shift is on the left. So imagine me, still learning the rules of the road trying to get used to shifting with my left (and certainly NOT dominant hand). For the first 15 minutes in the driver's seat it hadn't even crossed my mind in the slightest to check my mirrors. That is until a motorcyclist zoomed passed me so quickly that I nearly ate my heart! It was only at that moment that I thought I should maybe take a peek behind me every now and again.
So here I am, driving WAY under the speed limit because I'm concentrating so much on what gear I'm in, what gear I should shift to, staying in the left lane and trying to guess the distance between my passenger's side and the cars parked on the road (I only almost hit two cars....and drove on the curb once). Dave is sitting next to me offering encouragement and, as softly as he can, constructive criticism. (I only almost gave him a heartattack once...I think. "STOP! Oh my god. Uhhhh...kind of close to that car there, baby. OK good - now give him some room to get by. OK, now be sure to give way to your right. Put on your signal - make a right. Not that one. OK, let's turn around.") I felt just like a 16-year old. Nervous. Excited. Humiliated. Relieved to get out of the car.
The other situations are far more subtle and can be something as simple as not being able to immediately understand what someone is saying (I don't think I've ever asked people to repeat themselves so much as I do here). And all of it's quite benign, really, but whether its not knowing which merchant will accept my credit card for payment (they're on the chip and pin system here which means my card has to be swiped - some stores aren't equipped to do it and other are phasing it out) or not being in touch with the local fashions I am left feeling a bit awkward, very much like a teenager. I can't drive on my own, have to ask what everything means, and operate within limited boundaries. In spite of all this, I can't help but wonder if I've been given a second chance at youth. And in some ways I've got all of the advantages - I'm not from here which means I don't have a history and can re-invent myself into anything I want and have the wisdom of experience to know how to what situations to avoid (I think). Like a teenager I've felt a bit shy when talking to strangers because I know my accent will be so obvious (and American); and at times I know, as a jeans and t-shirt kind of gal, my fashion sense is wildly different from the girls around here with the leggings and mini-skirt phenomenon. Why not just be proudly and confidently who I am - a rugged young woman from the prairie-land in the heart of America. An artist. A dreamer. A philosopher. A bit out of touch with modern culture. After all, I've been given the rare and fantastic opportinity of drinking the sweet nectar derived from the Fountain of Youth.
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