Reverse Culture Shock...?

Look left then right!

When I left for England I had a lot of culture shocks.  I knew about many of them when I came over but it still surprised me because who doesn't put eggs in a cooler but on a shelf?  And why aren't there any proper hot dogs? Is it too much to ask for Ball Park hot dogs or Hebrew National?  Hot dog buns too maybe?  And what is up with burgers and KFC?  Oh no, that is so not chicken done right.  And then, of course, it took me ages to learn to look right then left when crossing the street.  I had to relearn how to cross the bloody street.

So yeah, there were a few shocks but, eventually, they became second nature and I didn't even notice them after a while.  But how have I managed since I have returned?

The very first thing I noticed was the size of the bottle of Diet Coke I got when I got off the plane in Seattle.  I am not used to seeing a 20 oz bottle of anything and lemme tell you, it is much larger than anything back in merrie olde England.  So are the cans of Diet Coke (12 oz is larger than a 331 ml can of soda).

I keep expecting to have these huge moments of reverse culture shock but they really aren't coming, perhaps the two cultures are too similar or maybe it's because I'm native to California and I was only gone for a little over a year.  And I'm not too sure how to feel about it.  Maybe it's a good thing, or maybe it's because you can take the girl out of California but you can't take the California out of the girl.

I must admit though that I am still looking right then left and I need to get out of that habit.  It's not a good idea when you're driving.  And I have gotten into the wrong lane to make a left hand turn but I caught myself before any cars came my way.  And I have picked up some British modes of speech that I was not aware of.  For example, I was speaking to a friend on the phone and I said, "... maybe we can meet up tuesday then ya?"  Apparently adding 'then ya' at the end of a sentence is not very American.  Who knew?

A New Week

One year, four months, three days, and twelve hours.

That's how long I was gone from CA before my return.  Not like I was counting or anything.

The hardest part is being away.  The journey dulls the sadness, the fatigue of making sure you get to your next flight on time, going through passport control and getting a bite to eat between flights shunts the sadness away until you're ready to deal with it.  This doesn't mean you won't cry on the plane, it just means you're not actively thinking about it.  Maybe.

It has been a week now since I have returned and it feels strange to say the least.  Before I left for England I kept thinking in four months this will have been the longest I've been away from home and now I find myself thinking that each minute is the longest I've been away from my Gunton.  We are by no means the first couple to have been separated for one reason or another nor do I delude myself in thinking that ours is the worst separation imaginable.  Knowing how hard it was for me to leave only made me aware just how hard it has to be for all those military wives to hold and kiss their husbands one last time, not sure if this is going to be the last time or if there is going to be a next time.

For all that we are separated by 5000 miles of ocean and landmass, I am able to stay in pretty much constant contact with him.  We skype and when we're not skyping I can send him an iMessage.  The only time we're truly apart is when he's asleep during my evening and when I am asleep during his morning and early afternoon.

So, a lot of people have been wondering what's the plan.  The plan is simple- kill the batman- no wait, wrong plan.  The plan is to return me to England to be with him.  While I am back home I will be trying to find a job.  This will allow me to save up some money so that when I am ready to return, I'll be able to bring Cooper with me.  I'll most likely be returning on a fiancée or spouse visa so I'll be bringing the dog with me, I wouldn't want to keep her in CA when I'll be gone so much longer than a year.  Gunton, on his end, gets to do the hard stuff- be able to meet the visa requirements.

No pressure darling.

I don't like being away from him, I don't like not being able to be with him whenever I want but I also understand that this isn't forever and we'll eventually be together again and I know that I could have it so much worse.

The Last Week: Monday

Last night was the last time I will have cooked him dinner and tomorrow will be the last time I make him his breakfast and brew him a cup of coffee.


I read an article on Mommyish (I think it was there) about how parents often celebrate the firsts: the first tooth, the first step, the first haircut but they never notice the lasts: the last 12 month onsie, the last diaper, the last 2:00 feeding and so forth.  It's because, the author wrote, parents are so busy with their lives that they don't notice that something was the last until it's already gone and can never be recorded or even remembered.

It sounds sad, especially when I sit here and think about all the lasts we're going to have together.  I'm sure I'm going to make it sound as if this is a final goodbye and while that's not even close, I have no idea how long it will be until I see him again and I was thinking about this article and well, it made me think what are our lasts?

We're going to go out to a nice dinner tonight, just the two of us so, unaware, last night's supper was well, the last supper I was going to cook for him.  Tuesday night we'll be in Manchester and Wednesday evening I'll be having pizza with my mom and sister in CA.  I made something I've been cooking a lot recently a, because it's easy and b, it's fast.  It's oh so yummy though so it's not a bad last meal.

If I had thought about it I'd have prepared steak & ale pie instead.  Sorry honey.

Tomorrow I think I'll do something special and make my mother's version of french toast.  We have the bread, we have the eggs and I think it'll be a nice little thing.  We had that for Christmas breakfast too.  He really likes mom's french toast.

I can't say when the last lunch I made for him was since he doesn't usually eat lunch.  Tonight will be the last night I sleep in our bed and tomorrow night will be the last night I get to sleep in his arms.  Tonight is the last night I'll have the kitties coming onto the bed to sleep with us.  And when I fill up their food bowl tomorrow, it'll be for the last time.

Lasts are really depressing and though I'll stop writing about them, I know I won't stop thinking about them, wondering if this will be the last time Timmy lets me give him a kiss.

It's stupid, really, because I'll be back and when I return, it'll be for good; I won't be leaving again until we leave as a family.  So this isn't a 'goodbye' but a 'see you in a bit', even if that 'bit' is a year or so.

The Final Week: Sunday

My Coopaducks is not a quiet dog, in fact her toe nails always go clackity clack even after they've been trimmed and it can drive a saint to drink.


I know that, in a week they'll be annoying again but just the thought of hearing her toenails makes my heart leap.  I have really missed my Copper girl.  I cried like a baby when I said goodbye to her and I'm sure I'll cry like a baby when I say hello to her.  I have really missed her and the frequent pictures that my sister has sent to me over the last 16 months has really helped me see my girl grow older.  Britons really love their dogs and dogs are allowed almost everywhere.  Our local Tesco has an entrance to the store so there are doors that open into a patio of sorts and many people will allow their dogs to wait for them in there.  Many times they have a human waiting with them but not is minded by the presence of dogs.  In country pubs it's not a rare sight to see people bringing their dogs in with them.  Could you imagine a bar allowing dogs?  Britons bring their dogs with them everywhere and they tie them up outside public places like banks and the post office but they hardly ever leave their dogs home.  I think our society would be a bit more happy and friendly if we had a more dog friendly kind of attitude.

And my family, of course I miss my family and I can't wait to see them.  I've spoken to them extensively over the last year but it will be nice to see everyone.  I had a nice time visiting with my mother when she came to see us in July.  And I am sure I'll end up seeing a lot of people next sunday. Well, aside from my brother and my SIL seeing as they live in Oslo.  

I miss the geocachers.  I have.  You are all a great bunch of people and I do miss seeing everyone.  I miss my friends, the few really good ones I have.  I have a girlfriend who has a one year old I've not yet met and I can't wait to meet him!  He was born a few months after I left.

Curiously, of the many things I miss from home, the greatest ones are food related.
Carl's Jr.
Chili's
Deny's
Lamppost Pizza
In 'n Out
Taco Bell
El Novillero
Movie Theater popcorn!  Not the stuff they have in England-land

Oddly enough I don't miss driving on the right hand side of the road and if you've been in the car with me, you'd know why.  I think Mom said it best: I drive no differently on the left than I do on the right.  Once I got over my 'oh holy crap the lanes are too freaking narrow I'm going to crash!' I was fine.  I became a fairly good judge of the narrow lanes and just how much room I needed to pass by cars.

My Gunton calls this my return to CA as an extended visit home for me because that's all it is, just a visit.  But no matter how long this visit is, I will look forward to catching up on all those delights I've been missing.

Even if those 'delights' include the clackity clacks of the dog's toenails on the wood floors.

The Final Week: Saturday

Two checked, one carry-on and a large purse.

Aside from the few things I'm not bringing I think I'm all packed.  It's bitter sweet really.  We did laundry a few days ago to make sure everything I had was clean.  Of course I've been wearing some of those clean items so there'll be laundry to do when I get back to California.  Hi Mom!  :)

Oddly enough, I thought about this.  Gunton helped me sort out my clothes and those that were going were at the foot of the bed while those that were staying were at the head of the bed.  There was symbolism in that.  I might be overly educated.  I was going to reverse it but I figured that it'd be far more symbolic that the feet carry you away though the heart might want to remain.  Yes, it's sappy and disgusting, I know.  Like I said, I've over educated.

Mom had sent a lot of Union Flag items for the party next sunday and I stuck those in my largest carry-on.  To be honest, all the non-clothing items took up more room than my clothing does.  Strange.  Once those were in I started to pack my clothes around them, trying to keep them somewhat cushioned.  I don't have anything really breakable but some of the stuff is crushable.  My large pack was not large enough to fit everything so we had to find another one, a pack that belonged to the Gunton's mother.  I was able to fit most of my clothes in that.  I really don't have a lot of clothes.  And that which doesn't fit, will be going with me on my carry-on.  And then there's my purse.  It's big and it's pink so it can fit a lot of stuff.  Take note in the picture:

Mummy & Daddy Gunton, my Gunton and me

That's going to carry Bob, Mac and all their wires and things.  Note the size of said bag.  That was a Christmas present from my brother and his fiancée a few years ago.  It's large enough, I think, to hold a 17" powerbook and a phone plus anything else I will eventually stuff inside of it.

The next step is to weigh everything and make sure that I'm not over my allowed limit.  I get 2 checked bags that cannot be over 23kg in weight and 1 carry on no heavier than 10kg.

But I think I am ready and if I had to leave today, I think I'd be ready.  I'm just glad I don't have to.

There are a few items of clothing that are hanging over the foot of the bed, but those are a pair of jeans and some shirts I plan on wearing so I didn't bother packing them.

All I need to do now is print my itinerary and make sure I know where my phone charger is, my headphones and everything else.

Just a few more days and then I get to unpack it all.  Oh joy.  I hate unpacking almost as much as I hate packing.

The Final Week: Friday

Stores don't open until 10:00 and close at 16:00 on Sundays.

Yep, there are certainly one or two things I am so not going to miss about returning home to California and that is one of them.  I have, on several occasions, gotten a hankering for popcorn about six in the evening, after the stores have closed down.  I've had a hankering for popcorn only to find, hey look, no popcorn.  There were 100g bags of salted popcorn for 50p but, as of a few days ago, it appears as if we grabbed the last bag.  They do have individual packs of popcorn but it's a bit expensive.  For shame Tesco, people need popcorn in the winter too!  The SPAR (what we're calling the Roman Store for obvious reasons- okay, they're obvious to me and anyone who knows the way my mind works- ahemelizabethahem) has the 3 packs of butter for £2 which is a bit more than I want to spend on 3 packs of buttered popcorn.  The salt ones are much better.  And have I mentioned that I have been unable to find popcorn kernels that one can cook on the hob?  No?  Yes, I am not going to miss the substandard popcorn.  Not even the popcorn at the movies cinemas are what I call proper popcorn.

I am not going to miss how everything shuts down when the sun goes down.  It's cute, and it's quant and for a sleepy town like Filey well, it's mostly full of retirees so I can't exactly blame them.  But it's not just Filey.  Stores even in the big, bad city of Hull close down at 6.  Restaurants don't open until 5 and you can't order anything for delivery until after 4.  Unless it's dominoes pizza but then you get dominoes pizza.  There are no decent fast food joints.  They have McDonalds and a few Burger Kings, plenty of KFCs and I've heard that there's a single Taco Bell in Manchester.  And that's about it.  I know not everyone is a fan of fast food but sometimes it's nice to be able to run out and pick up a burger on those days you just don't feel like cooking.  But there aren't any Carl's Jr., In 'n Out, Taco Bell, Del Taco or anything of the sort.  There's also no diners open 24 hours.  It makes me wonder where those party hardy people go after the bars close.  Where are they suppose to go at 2 in the morning and they're starving?  There's no Denny's to be had!

And Mexican food.  Oh Britain, you're so funny.  There's a chain of "Mexican" restaurants called Chiquitos that sport such items as 'sala ketchup'.  Their idea of "Mexican" cheese is to put red and green peppers in cheddar cheese and call it "Mexican".  I have pictures to prove it.  The best they can do is a whole line of del monte products.  It's adaquate if you're desperate but come on, if people don't even know what a chimichanga or an empañada or a quesadilla is, then there's no such thing as a Mexican food in this country.  My in-laws have never heard of tamales or masa.  How can you describe to people the utter goodness of a tamale if they don't even know what masa is?  I can see what I am going to have to do when I come back.

And it might be a small thing but this country doesn't seem to realize that pumpkins have a greater value than just being used as a jack-o-lantern for Halloween.  Yes it makes a very delicious pie, which I have proved to my in-laws and, I assume, they have gone on to show to their families.  I have seen a recipe in a British recipe book that has a standard pumpkin pie recipe but also includes a walnut crust.  No, England, just no.

When we were still living in Hull the 24 hour Tesco would close at midnight saturday, open at 11 sunday, close at 5 sunday and not open again until midnight for monday.  See, it's only been within recent memory that stores were even open on a Sunday.  It's a slight pain.

And banks.  Yes, lovely banks.  Granted all banks are pretty much the same all with different tariffs and schemes to "help you save money" but there is something about UK banks that drive me batty.  There is at least a 5 day turn around when you deposit a check.  Yes my friends, at least 5 days, even longer if you dare to but a check in on friday.  It sorta goes like this if someone who banks at Bank A writes you a check, you deposit it in your Bank B.  Bank B sends the check to Bank A who takes it out of your friend's checking account.  Bank A then sends the money to Bank B who then puts it into your account.  In this modern day you'd think that this process should take a matter of hours, maybe a day or two, after all, this is fairly common in the States as well.  The only difference is, if your friend wrote you a check, banks like Wells Fargo will allow you to withdraw some money from that check, so long as you're in the black.  Not so with UK banks.  You don't get a penny until the entire check clears.

Smokers.  Goodness but I am not going to miss the smokers of this country.  Laws have been passed that smoking is not allowed in public buildings.  Huzzah, I'm all for that as I really don't want to be smelling ciggies while I'm trying to eat.  However, this is where American smokers are far more advanced than British smokers.  Despite signs reading that smokers must be within 20' of all doors and entrances, the second smokers get out of  a building they light up and stop.  Why are you stopping?  Why must you smoke in front of a building?  Smokers here are rude and disgusting.  American smokers are far more considerate.

"Safety Cameras".  Oh yes, on major roads there are these orange boxes with cameras on them to give you a ticket if you're speeding.  It's all for "safety" and by "safety" we know it's all for "money".  No one likes them and they are a pain in the ass.  They also have these "traffic calming measures" that are supposed to help the flow of traffic on the motor ways.  See, if there's an accident or it's rush hour these "traffic calming measures" are put into place.  Above the motorway are these huge sign posts with displays overhead, one for each lane.  For some reason I can't seem to find a picture of it.  These will flash a speed limit that reduces the speed limit from 70 to anything down to 40.  Imagine going 40 on the friggen motorway.  It is annoying.  It must work though because traffic does keep moving- mostly.  And even though I am never on the M62, it's a pain.

And have I mentioned that there's no decent delivery?  Well, Filey does have a nice chinese restaurant that'll deliver for £1 and supposedly there's a pizza place around here that delivers but the one time we called them for a pizza, they told us they couldn't deliver.  I'm not even entirely sure where this place is.

There are more things that I am not going to miss I am sure and, over the ensuing weeks I'm sure that I'll think of them.  Then I'll gloat, privately of course.  Gloating is so unattractive.

The Final Week: Thursday

I have lived first in Hull then in Filey and there are some things I will surely miss.

While there were parts of Hull that weren't bad, we lived in the less nicer area of town, about a mile from town centre, which, to those in Sacramento would understand as being mid-town, though not nearly as nice.  And then we moved to Filey during the summer and I really like Filey, I love Filey, it's a small town in North Yorkshire right on the North Sea.  Sometimes I feel as if I could just wave high enough my brother and sister-in-law could see me from Oslo.  It's a nice thought that they really are that close, that we share the same sea.


Of all the things I am going to miss, the most important and the most obvious will be my Gunton.  I am going to miss waking up next to him in the morning (unless he's gotten up before me) and going to sleep next to him each night.  I am going to miss his excitement when he reads something exciting and must share it with me instantly.  I am going to miss the way he goes into ecstasy over that first cup of coffee in the morning, or even how he gets me to do it by claiming that he just doesn't make it as good as I do.  I'm going to miss making breakfast with him while we talk about this, that, and another thing.  Over the last year plus we've lived in each other's pocket and despite many hardships we've only gotten closer.  Everyday I am grateful that the Lord has seen fit to bring us together.

I am also going to miss my in-laws here in England.  I am going to miss the phone calls from the padres and the tios to make sure that we're doing all right.  I am going to miss the love and affection of people who love even though they don't have to.  Just the other day Daddy Gunton said that he Mummy Gunton were getting a bit sad over me leaving because, as he said, he's never had a daughter before.  Yeah, I am so going to miss them and for obvious reasons.  And it's not just them, I really enjoy spending time with my Gunton cousins too.

Mummy & Daddy Gunton, my Gunton & Mommy at Shakespeare's house

I suppose I ought not neglect the cats.  My Timothy Alexander and Lucy Jane.  Yes, they have middle names, don't judge, you're thinking about it now too.  I am going to miss the way Lucy comes in from outside and has to tell us all about it even though she was outside for just five minutes.  So Mom's calico is also a talker but not nearly as much as Lucy is.  I'm also going to miss the way Timmy walks up to me, and slowly but insistently invites himself onto my lap, or into my bathrobe because it's warm. I'm going to miss they way he purrs as he does it.  I'm simply going to miss them, the way I've been missing my Coopaducks.  They are good kitties who never fail to make either one of us laugh each and every single day over something they do.

Timothy Alexander deciding he doesn't want to go out in the snow

Lucy Jane thinking about something

I'm going to miss other things, small things that we don't do or have in the States.  While I am not exactly fond of three laned roundabouts, I am going to miss single lane roundabouts.  There are even street signs to let you know what kind of roundabout you're approaching, either a multi-lane, single lane or mini.  There are also lane indicators I really like.  They always let you know what side of the road you're supposed to be on.  It's very handy when you get to a roundabout or you're making a right hand turn and you're not sure which side of what line you need to be on, these little beauties remind you.

corner of Queens & Princes Rds in Hull

I'm going to miss the sound of the ocean, of being able to walk half a mile down the road and be at the water's edge.  I have really come to adore Filey and I am going to miss this sleepy little town.  I'm even going to miss the traffic patterns.  I've gotten so used to seeing cars drive on the left that I can't tell what is and is not normal.

It's hard to list all the vary many things I'm going to miss since I am not entirely positive what I'll miss until I'm far away from it.  I do think I will miss having a Tesco within walking distance.  The Gunton and I can decide we need to go get a few groceries and a five minute walk gets us there.  

I'm going to miss cadbury chocolate.  I really like cadbury chocolate.  I didn't so much when I first got here but I really like it.  My favorite part of Cadbury Creme Eggs used to be the gooey middle now, hoever, I really like the milk chocolate.  I much prefer it over Hershey's to be honest.  I know, how un-American of me.

I'm going to miss the Yorskhire accent and the friendliness of the people here.  Believe it or not, people in Yorkshire do smile.  And I'm going to miss the Yorkshire pride the folks around here have.  The War of the Roses might be over but these folks love Yorkshire no less than their long dead ancestors.

And I'm going to miss those thing I find funny.  Here everything is a 'scheme' or a 'tariff', or a 'programme'.  Back home, we never call something a scheme, a scheme is a bad thing, we call a 'scheme' a plan.  We Americans like our plans.  And we don't have bolt-ons for our phone tariff but we have add-ons for our phone plans.  And I suppose time will tell if I miss hearing people use the word 'mobile' rather than 'cell phone'.  I know I always feel weird saying mobile.  I don't say cell phone but I will usually say phone.

I am going to miss a lot of things.  Maybe, if I think about it, I'll make a list and talk about it.

Of course, there are many things I am not going to miss, but that's for the next blog post.

The Final Week: Wednesday

This will be my last full Wednesday in England.

About 12:20 this afternoon I turned to Mark at a bus stop in Scarborough and I said, "A week from now I'll be boarding my plane."  What a bittersweet thing to realize.  In a week from now I will be flying over the Atlantic from Manchester to Reykjavik then on towards Seattle then home.  In just a week from today.

So today we went into Scarborough.  I had intended on taking pictures but I forgot.  We got up this morning all set to catch the 9:22 train to S'bro that would have gotten us into town about fifteen minutes later.  We didn't catch that one because we lost something we needed for one of our errands into town.  An hour and a half later, we still hadn't found it but the 10:59 train was coming and this was the last train we could catch for my Gunton to be on time for his appointment.  We were still a few hundred yards away when we heard the announcement for the train.   I don't run on the best of occasions (which my sister assures me will change) but I really don't do it when I've got 50 pounds of books on my back (okay, slight exaggeration).

The train ride was lovely.  There are lots of fields between Filey and Scarborough and they were covered in snow.  There had obviously been a light dusting over the night as the paths that our neighbor had so carefully shovelled were white.  When we got into town we had a few minutes to kill so we decided to see if we could find anything GB or England in Poundland (think the Dollar Tree).  They had nothing, though they did have lots of stuff for spring planting.  My Gunton assured me that he would, once spring came around, repot Harry the Christmas Tree into something bigger since he is root bound.  We then moseyed over to his appointment and we decided that, with the heavy books and the long walk to the university, we'd be better off taking the bus there.  We were quite glad we did.  Not only was it cold today but the walk was long and uphill.

We caught the 211 Fiely to S'bro bus back into town and meandered about.  We had some lunch, went into a few shops and looked about.  We went into a reduced price book store and he found A&W root beer, £1.25 or 2 for £2.  We had £1.90 so we got a book on cake decorating for £2.99 for a grand total £4.99.  He's not yet tried it but I think he'll like it.  We went in and out of a few more shops, mostly to kill time.  We eventually found our way to a Tesco and we bought some bread and, on our way out, got to chatting with a lady who was doing customer surveys.  When I looked at my phone we had eight minutes to get to the train.  We ended up having to run the last few hundred yards because we had lost time going over ice and taking a path that was a dead end.

I hate public transportation.  I hate it with a passion.

Fifteen minutes we pulled into Filey Station and we walked home arm in arm just chatting about things that are unimportant and easily forgotten.

We didn't have any great plans, there were no fireworks, no parades, nothing spectacular to remind us of the day we had.  There was no fancy meal or fine wines.  It was a quick, cheap lunch that we shared and walking around.  We had an average, normal every day kind of day.  And it was quite nice.

Just one last day of running errands and doing stuff that normal, average, every day people do but, one week from now, when I am flying over the Atlantic, I'll be able to look back on remember how completely nice a day we shared, just one week ago.

The Final Week: Tuesday

It's come down to a week now and the most pressing issue is what am I going to pack.

I'm leaving England, the UK and, most importantly, my Gunton.  I have no idea how long it will be before I am able to return and so I need to pack.  I've been putting it off, ignoring it, forgetting about it, living day to day as if the 23rd is not going to arrive.

And if there was a way of postponing the inevitable, I would do it.  But I can't so I start seriously thinking about packing.

In my opinion packing is the one sure fire way of saying, yes I am doing this, I am leaving.  Packing for a trip is always filled with joy and excitement.  Packing to return home well, that's not always as much fun.  For many of us, we're going on a short holiday and though we had fun and we hate to leave, we're honestly quite glad to be going home.  Home means a return of the normal, a return to the daily grind that can now be made more bearable by the fun that was just had.

And I have had a great time in the UK.  I've learned to look right then left when crossing the street.  And that took me a while get that one down.  And then I learned how to drive on the left with a right hand drive and shifting with the right hand proved interesting.  I learned how to make a proper cup of tea (Yorkshire tea).  I learned that while the Queen might use Twinnings, the rest of the country uses the cheaper PG Tips or Tetley's or Yorkshire Tea.  I learned what Yorkshire Pudding was and that it's best served with onion gravy with a sunday roast.  I learned that bacon isn't the same thing in the UK and I learned what a Full English means.  I have learned how to properly carry home fish and chips from a take away.  I have learned a little about cockney rhyming slang.  I have learned the difference between a slag and a chav.  I've learned that most of the population still smokes and they aren't very courteous smokers at that.  I have learned what it means to be a Hyacinth Bucket (bouquet) and I feel so sorry for Richard.

And I speak a little differently now, not so much as one would notice.  The phrase, 'she was sat there' has crept into my vernacular, despite my attempts to speak grammatically correct English.  I can recognize a 'posh' accent and a regular accent and I can even recognize different regional accents to a certain extent.  I sometimes flow from speaking British to American and back again, as if my mouth can't decide how it wants to formulate words.  I don't always just say 'hello' as much anymore but I say 'Hi, you all right?' or just an 'all right?'  I sometimes say 'ta' instead of 'thank you' or even 'thanks'.  And I say, 'That's brilliant, thank you' as un-American way as is possible.

I am really sad to leave, sad to go away.  Among those that I pack I will be packing memories and gifts.  I'll be packing momentos that my in-laws have given me and when I get back home I'll take them out and probably cry over them because they are reminders that though I have loved ones and family in the States, I also have loved ones and family in England as well.  I will pack away my growing love for Filey and Yorkshire and bring it with me until I can return again.

Travelling is supposed to change a person, shape one, give one new perspectives on life and ways of living and while living in England might not be as radical a change as living in a country whose primary ethnicity is something other than Northern European, it has changed me.  I understand a little more why Americans become Anglophiles, though I understand that there's a huge difference between loving the country, and loving one's home.  England isn't Great Britain nor is Great Britain the UK, they are all different pieces made up of different people that make up the whole, and it's those little pieces that I have grown to appreciate and love.

Bye Bye Hostess

So Hostess are closing their doors and the nation is weeping over the loss of the Twinkie.  Many here in England have never even heard of a Twinkie and they probably aren't aware of the Hostess Company.  I am glad that Mom & Libbie were able to send some to the UK so that Mark and the kids were able to enjoy this amazing US treat before it went belly up.

America is in mourning for the loss of the Twinkie and, over the last week, many analogies have been made to Zombie Land, and many people are now placing dibs on calling themselves Talahassee.  If you've not seen the movie you won't really get the reference.  I don't know if many people are going to write odes to their love of the yellow snack cake of yummy goodness.  I don't intend on doing that.  Instead, I wish to write why, for personal reasons, I am saddened by the closing of Hostess.

I have fond memories of my childhood that are intimately tied into the the DingDong.  When I was young I spent the night at my best friend's house all the time.  We were inseperable and we did everything together.  We met when we were 3 & 4.  I had just turned 4 and she was three months from it herself.  She had come across the street and introduced herself, asked if I wanted to be friends and that, my friends, is history.  Unfortunately life happened and we were split up in junior high school when she was sent to a different school and though we kept in touch, we didn't spend all day every day together.

But those years in between...

Whenever I'd spend the night R's mother would wake us up stupid early.  She had to be at work at the Army Depot early in the morning so she'd wake us up, make sure we were dressed, then she'd get us into her ancient VW bug, it was orange.  I think this is why I like bugs, even the newer ones.  The next stop was the Arco on Mack Road where she'd get gas, two packs of Salem 100s and R & I would get something, whatever we wanted.  Sometimes we got those six pack of powdered donuts, sometimes they were the chocolate ones, or we'd get the DingsDongs (my personal favourite), we'd get the cupcakes, and yes, we'd even get twinkies.  She would sometimes get Snowballs but I hate coconut so I'd never get those.  And then we'd eat it in the car on the way to my house.  My Mom watched R before and after school while her mom worked.  It worked out for everyone, R had a safe place to go to after school and I got to spend all day with my best friend.

We did that every morning, day in and day out, year after year.  It was like that when we moved, when they moved, it didn't matter.  Each morning I spent the night, it was Hostess something in the morning.  To this day I still like to grab something from the Hostess stand when I'm at the gas station.  I usually end up grabbing a diet coke and a bag of Flamin' Hot Cheetos, but I always eye them.  Now I wish I did more than just eye them.

It wasn't just having a Hostess snack cake in the morning, it was the stupid things we did with them too.    I remember a favourite, prodded by R I believe, was to take a cheese dorito chip, dip it into the cream filling and eat it off the chip.  That was some good eating right there, no joke.  We ate weird things as kids.  I've not done that in years but I am always tempted to if I have something Hostess in hand and cheese doritos in the other.  I'm firmly convinced that that particular combination of snack food has got to be disgusting and so I've never done it as an adult.  Now I wish I had.

So yes, I am saddened about the closing of Hostess, not only due to the implications of it closing has on the rest of the country, but because it's closing a door on the chance to relive some adored childhood memories.

Living the Life of Filey

If I've not said it before, I'll say it now, I love living in Filey.  I feel at home here.  I have always loved small towns, quiet places and this town suits me to a T.  Sure, there're no UA or Century (UK translation: Reel or VUE cinemas) just down the street, there's no Target  or Raley's or even a large Tesco (though there is a Tesco).  If we wanted to do any major shopping we'd need to go to Scarborough or Hull, the two closest cities.  But I don't mind, we don't do much major shopping and we go into Hull once a month anyway.

But Filey is a small, quiet seaside town and I have come to realize that I am eminently suited to Filey living.  Our neighbors probably remember historical events dating back to the 40s though I am sure a good number of them were doing the sock hop in the early 50s.  And I love the fact that Mark & I are probably the youngest couple in our part of the neighborhood by about 50 years.  Love it.

But there are other things I love about living here and here's one: laundry.

We have a washing machine in our borrowed bungalow but no dryer, but we don't need one.  The backyard is eminently suitable for drying clothes.  Mark put up a line when we first moved in and the sun and the wind make the perfect dryer.  Just today I was taking down dry clothes, putting up wet clothes for drying when I smelled the dry clothes.  They smelled clean, as they should but they also smelled of the ocean.  It's been overcast all day but the wind has been gently blowing off the North Sea all day and though the sun hasn't been out to help the wind dry the clothes, they are getting dry.  And now the clothes smell of clean soap and the ocean.

There are few things that smell as good as something clean but add the bracing scent of sea air and it opens up memories.  Just one scent of the laundry reminds me of happy days with my family.  I remember a picture, in particular of my sister, my brother and I wrapped up in a blanket with the Pacific behind us.  It was a cold, cold day on that beach.  We'd been in a parade with the Sacramento Youth Band just earlier that day and it had been hot, the Benicia parades were always hot, but it was cold on the beach and either Mom or Dad caught a picture of the three of us bundled against the cold.  It was a good, fun day.  And just one scent reminds me of those good days.  It reminds me of happy times with my family.

So yeah, I like doing laundry, I enjoy putting it up on the line and I enjoy taking it down, folding it and putting it away.  I like the memories they give me.  I like the memory of being a young child and playing outside while Mom put white sheets on the line in the backyard of our house on Village Wood Drive.  Those were happy days and happy memories.

Which is one more reason I love living in Filey.

Home

In two days I will have been away from home for 12 months.  That's 365 days, five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes (you know the song) since I've been home.  It will have been the longes time I have ever been away from home.

It's not always been easy.  When I first arrived in England I had to learn to use the crosswalk all over again.  People drove on the wrong side of the street, I had to look right first then left and the road systems made no sense at all.  I felt like someone who had been picked up and dropped in a crazy land and I wondered how I'd adapt.

And then I had my first experience in a grocery store and I nearly had a slight panic attack- this wasn't Raley's, it didn't look like Raley's and I wanted at least the grocery section from Target!  Food was strange here and I encountered the daunting tasking of finding something as simple as a bread I liked.  I didn't recognize any of the brands and I still haven't found Oroweat's Potato Bread.  I don't think it exists here.  And the eggs, I was shocked when the Gunton took me from the refrigerated sections to get some eggs.  They were brown and on shelves.  What was this place?

I posted Culture Shock of the Day on my facebook page until one by one, they were no longer a shock and they became normal.  I eventually stopped looking left then right when crossing the street, I got my UK driving license and I learned to drive on the left as if I had been doing it my entire life.  I still get confused at times which side is the driver's but then... you can't toss out a lifetime of experience so quickly.

I am now living in a seaside resort town off the coast of the North Sea in North Yorkshire and I love it here.  I no longer have insane cravings for Mexican food since I can find tortillas and refried beans.  I can do the rest myself.  I no longer notice that people speak differently than me and I find it hard to decide if someone is driving on the 'wrong' side of the road when I watch something on TV.  I have settled into the Yorkshire life, and I really like it here.

And it makes me think of Home.  I've had some bad moments of home sickness, none more so than on Boxing Day when I was around people I didn't know and who weren't making a huge attempt to make me feel as if I were a part of their family.  I wanted to go home, so we did.  I was so upset I couldn't even talk to my mommy, even though she was the only person I wanted to talk to.  But I got over it and life moved on.  I had my Gunton, and the cats and, if I missed my dog, well, I had my Gunton and that's good enough.

So now I'm facing a year away from home and my year long MA program is coming to a close and I am coming to the realization that I might have to go home when my visa expires on Jan 23, 2013.  This gives us one more round of birthdays and holidays before I'll have to go back to CA and I don't like it.  I don't want to leave my Gunton.

But I miss home.

I get constant emails from Chili's about their latest coupons and I think about how much I miss Chili's.  Mom & my sister go to Denny's a lot and I am reminded how much I miss Denny's.  And Pizza, oh, I do miss Lamppost Pizza.  Nothing here even hopes to compare.  I just miss everything that's familiar and reeks of Home.

And yet, I am home.  I am reminded of that scene in Fiddler on the Roof where the one daughter is leaving her family to be with the man she loves saying that with him, she is home.  That scene has always made me cry.  There's nothing overly foreign about England anymore.  I understand the roads, and am comfortable on them.  I am fully confident going into any grocery store and I know where to find my eggs, cheese and I know the difference between the different labels of milk.  I know what kind of bread I like and I know that just because this bread is £1, doesn't mean it's not as good as the one £2.50.  I also know I don't like the taste of the bread that's £2.50.  Yorkshire has become to feel like home to me.  If I am here next year I have every intent on going to the festivals for Yorkshire Day and if I were to raise children here, I'd be happy knowing they'd be raised (not permanently) in Yorkshire.  I want to see the day when I walk my children down to the beach from our house just because we live a 10 minute walk from it.  I can see a life with us, with children here in England.

But as much I might love it here, I am a Californian and that is never going to change.  I can't wait to go Home, but I hate to leave the one I have here too.

The 20th marks a year since I've been in England, a whole year, 12 months, 365 days, 525,600 minutes.  And tonight we're going to have a lovely dinner of pork tenderloin, fried potatoes, corn, salad and garlic bread washed down with ligonberry mead that Mom & I made a few years back to celebrate since we'll be in Hull all day thursday and might not get another chance this week.

But no matter where Home ends up being in January, I've still got my Gunton and really, that's good enough for me.

With Mommy Day 3!

Thursday, July 5, 2012


Today is the third day Mom's been here in England and today we are going to Beverley!  She really wants to see the Beverley Minster, which is very beautiful.  After a restful (mostly) night's sleep, Mark & I got up obscenely early to see if he could work today.  He was so close to working this AM but he was sent home.  Sigh.  Well, at least he can spend the day with Mom & me, and I would have sorely missed him had he not been with us (I'm funny like that).
Once we returned home, we made breakfast and then we sat about for a while, eating, talking, digesting.  Finally Mom hopped into the shower, we all got dressed for the day and, after buying cat food (and taking mom on a not good roundabout), we headed to Beverley!  Mark took excellent video from Mom's phone of a couple of roundabouts as we made a stop at the pet store for more cat food.


Our first stop in Beverley was somewhere to park.  We originally parked at the Beverley Tesco but it only has a 3 hour parking limit and we didn't want to feel rushed so Mom & Mark went ahead and I returned for the car, found a pay & display parking lot and met up with them.  When I arrived they were sitting outside, obviously waiting for me.

Beverley Minster

You can, if you try, see them off to the left behind the rows of cars.  They didn't want to go in without me, isn't that nice?

Hi

See, I told you they were waiting for me.  Then we entered and it is just as beautiful and big today as it was when I visited it in October with the Gunton clan.  After paying the £3 fee to take pictures, Mom set about doing just that.  Yes, there is a fee of £3 to take pictures.  She got a badge and everything.

It didn't stick to her shirt too well but, she was officially permitted to take pictures... me, not so much.  She will be uploading the pictures we took at the Minster later today, once we have them off of all the camera devices.  And we have one more device to clear first.

And now, if you're anything like my sister, you wanna know why it's called a Minster.  This is a very good question.  A Minster was a building that was more than just a church but acted also as a town hall.  We're going to see the York Minster either this weekend or early next week.  We haven't decided yet.  We are all a bit tired so we're going to take a nap and then figure out what we plan on doing over the next few days.

Once we were finished at the Minster Mom bought a few postcards and those she wrote, had us sign, applied stamps and then posted.  All right there too!

With that done I was getting hungry so we had to figure out what we were going to do.  There's a place in town called Cactus Jack's and yes, it's a tex-mex place.  I was curious and interested so we walked over and it's only open for dinner on a thursday.  Are you kidding me?  How lame.  LAME!  Did I mention that that's lame?

We then decided that we'd save more money getting a roast chicken at Tesco.  And we did.  We had bread and cheese at home already so Mark ran in, bought a £4 roast chicken and we took it home, ate it with the bread & Leicester (pronounced less-ter) cheese and copious amounts of Diet Coke (and they're not even paying me for the ding!).

It's now 1500 and I am tired.  Mark & I were up at 4:30 this AM and I think it's time for a nap.  I love naps but I feel as if I should be doing something but I don't think that that's going to happen really.  It's been warm and annoyingly muggy all day as the sun's been out, there's been a lot of water in the atmosphere but none of it was falling.  I don't do well when I'm tired, hungry and irritated by the mugginess of the weather.

I had originally planned on making mead braised pork chops but I'm not so sure I'm going to be hungry enough later this evening to even want to think about it.

I suppose we shall see.

And keep your eyes peeled for the Day 3 pictures on Facebook 'ere long.

As for me, I'm snoozing!   

Wednesday, July 4, 2012

Happy Independence Day!


The sun has sunk below the horizon and the day here in England is coming to a close.  I spent the first 4th of July outside of my home and it was different.  Mom is here so it was nice to spend the day with her and Mark.

We started the day with a nice breakfast, or rather, a nice brunch since it was past 10 when we finally ate.  And then we headed into town.  Mark had a meeting at 2 so Mom & I wondered about for a bit on our own. 

Hull Trinity Church

Pretty Windows!

We eventually made our way to the Trinity Church that was built about 700 years ago.  It's a bit old and really cool.  Of course I just happen to like really old churches.  This is where pretty much anyone who is anyone was baptized here.  Mark & I were originally thinking about attending this church and while it would be really cool, the Lord steered us in a different direction.

Baptismal

But my favorite part of these old churches is innards, such as the windows.  Trinity Church also has a beautiful baptismal made out of hull marble, which is crushed shell.  If you look closely (which this picture doesn't do) you can actually see tiny pieces of different shells.  Many, many famous people were baptized in this thing, including Wilberforce, who was the main man behind the abolition movement here in England.  GB did away with slavery long before we did.  There's even a movie about it called Amazing Grace.  I've not seen it because I've been told it's fairly sad but also uplifting.

Mark describing how he'd get to the pillars from the floor

After Mark's meeting he met up with us at the church and instantly started thinking about how he could move about the building a la Assasins Creed.  I'm telling him, no darling.  I think he's played that game too much.  :)  Much like all churches of this era, there was the nave (where we are in this picture) and several more different areas.  Take, for example, the picture directly above us.  One thing interesting about the church is that the nave had no pews originally and so the unwashed masses had to stand for the entire service.  However, during the 19th century they put in pews.

Pew Lxxvii

Each one had it's own unique number and each was decorated with hand carved hand rests.

Pew hand rest

Pew hand rest

a married couple

Another thing I love about these old churches is that they have tombs inside of them!  How cool is that?  Yes, we're just going to have a random tomb here, inside the church.  The Beverley Minster is filled with tombs like this.  It also happens to be the object of our journey on Thursday!  There are also gravestones on the floor and when I mean on the floor I actually mean, the gravestones are the floor, least the names of the dead are inscribed on the floor.  Some of them are so old that they are worn down by the passage of millions of feet.

tombstone inside the church.  

tombstone outside

And once we were done at the church (and no, this isn't the sum total of pictures, just a few) we meandered about a bit more and found the Hull Grammar School.  If all the who's who of Hull went to Trinity Church then they went to Hull Grammar School.  It's now the hands on history museum.

Why did Victorian children work?

What was it like to live on a Victoria street?

so yeah, it's really, really old.  See, there's Wilberforce again.  There was a huge section of what life was like for children during the Victorian era (not so great compared to modern times).  This section really makes a person glad to have things like running water.  One thing you don't get a sense of, unless you live in one of these buildings (which I currently am, unfortunately) is how poorly built these things are.  These buildings are hovels and each room has to have a fireplace (now boarded up).  Behind each house is an alley that leads to the outhouse.  These alleys allowed people to come in each morning and dispose of the waste. Urine would be used for tanning and poo was probably turned into fertalizer.  There's a tannery not far from here and when they're open for business you can smell it!


Once we were done with the museum we headed back into town center to find someone who could answer the question: why won't the O2 sim card work on mom's verizon iPhone4s.  Apparently it's not been properly unlocked so Mom needs to email verizon and have someone unlock it for her... or have Apple do it.  Either way it's frustrating.


And then it we went to the tourist information centre (or TIC as Mark kept calling it.  He kept saying tick and I had no idea what he was saying.  Then he told me he was saying TIC not tick.  I accused him of speaking British at me.)  where mom bought some postcards.  So check your mailboxes in a week or so and if you sent mom your addy then you should have a postcard coming your way.


After that it was time to go home and start some supper for the 4th.  We had some british beef (meh, it ain't exactly USDA choice), mashed potatoes and corn on the cob.  And for dessert I whipped up some whipped cream (they have it here but it tastes funny-no sugar nor vanilla added) and we had ice cream inferior cheesecake (I'm not sure what kind of cream cheese they used and if there was any sour cream added).


All in all, it was a good day.  We ended it trying to watch 1776 but it wouldn't let us so we watched Up instead.  After that it was bed time.


And thursday shall be an entirely new day and full of new adventures!

Mommy's Here!

For the last few months my mom has been been planning on visiting Mark & me here in England.  She arrived this morning and we picked her up from the airport in Manchester.  Her plane arrived 20 minutes early and we got stuck in traffic so we were late picking her up.  But we have her!

As soon as I saw her I shouted MOMMY!  Some people looked at me oddly but then I haven't seen my mother in 10 months so they can shove off.  I put a brand new, 02 sim card into her phone but her phone rejected it, wanting only her verizon sim card.  It was frustrating to say the least!

Eventually we gave it up and went home.  We had a 2 hour car drive home over the M62 (the highest motorway in England at 1221'!)  Our satnav doesn't always make it clear that stay to the left doesn't mean get into the left hand land and so we ended up leaving the motorway and we got lost a little until the sat nav could redirect us.

Eventually though we arrived in Hull.  We stopped at home, unloaded Mom's baggage and took a look at what she brought.  It was at this time she went to wash out her contacts and she cut her hand on her razor.  Mark put a bandaid on it, but she bled through that in record time then he patched her up.

One we were ready to head out,  we headed to St. Stephen's Shopping Centre (a mall) and we had a late lunch of hamburgers at the Handmade Burger co. and then we did some grocery shopping.  And because her phone was still rejecting the new sim we went to O2 to see what was up.  The woman said that the phone was unlocked but we needed to connect it to iTunes.

So we finally went back home, I plugged her phone into Bob (my powerbook), connected Blue (her iPhone) into iTunes and, severa hours later, it's still rejecting the new sim... sigh.

But now it's a quarter past 7 and we are eagerly awaiting bedtime.  Mom's been up since 4 PDT (noon GMT) yesterday and she's not slept since.

I think we're all going to sleep well tonight.

God is Good

I remember as a child there was an MC Hammer song in which he sang, “you gotta pray just to make it today.”  And he was right.

Those of you who have been following know that things have been… tight, to say the least for Mark & me over the course of these last few months.  By the Grace of God and monthly financial support from his father, some money from my mother and some from his, we’ve managed to scrape up rent, car insurance, and enough petrol to do the very basics.  Oh, and we’ve managed to make sure we’ve had enough food to keep us from starving.  The cats eat better than we do.

But through it all we’ve been praying, ceaselessly, as was commanded to us by God.  It’s always easy to pray when we need things, much harder, at times, to remember to pray when things are going as they should.  And, as I’ve been saying, all it takes is a little bit of faith.

Last week Mark & I went to the church to get some prayer and it was good.  It’s always nice when the pastor spends some time to get to know you, to pray for you and then invite you to prayer that evening.  We did and we got even more prayer.  We left feeling… blessed.  If you’ve ever had anyone pray for you then you know how we felt.

But still… the bad news kept coming.  Mark’s housing benefits were being suspended.  We had no money to pay the rent next month.  They needed certain information from me to determine if Mark is still eligible for housing.  No.  They think we (because of my student loans) make too much money to be eligible.  And they want every penny they’ve given him over the course of the last 9 months back.  We have a few months before they’re going to start asking us to pay it back.

And then we get even more news that it might be the case that his job seeker’s is going to disappear.  A few posts ago I detailed how much it’s going to cost us to have the basics and we were getting about £200 less than what we needed to pay everything we need for the month.  His father’s been giving us some money every month and that’s helped  more than we could ever say.

But we’re still not sure where the money for the rent for July is going to come from, we don’t now where the money for the insurance is going to come from.  So we prayed, and we prayed and we kept our eyes on the Lord and we had faith.  Even when it seemed as if God was not listening, we kept our faith.

After all, He brought us thus this far, hasn’t He?  And if we lost faith in God, then we’re really in trouble.  And I am amazed at the level of faith displayed by Mark.  For someone who was never raised a Christian, his faith in the Lord is awe inspiring.  And that faith in the Lord is not without cause.

A few days ago we get a call from Dad who tells us that he’s sending Mark some money for the rent.  We began to cry.  It’s going to cost him some, but he and Mom are going to help us with the rent for July.  Mark & I are determined, no matter what they say, to pay them back.  So we thanked God for such a blessing.

And then his In Training advisor calls him to let him know he’s set Mark up with an interview for a company that makes cleansers of various sorts for various companies.  And we praised God for the possibility of such a job.  It’s factory work and it might not be inspiring but it’s work and it is a blessing.  And if this is where the Lord can do His work through Mark, then so be it.  We shall go where the Lord leads us.

And then the other day his Uncle calls and says that he and his son want to help us out.  They were willing to come down on a Friday to give us the money.  I cannot begin to describe the tears of humility and joy that we then shed at such an offer.  This is his uncle and his cousin who are helping us out in this time of need.  Who does that?  His family, that’s who.  Mark & I are firm that we will pay back, somehow, this generosity.

And so we thanked the Lord.

So now the Lord has provided us rent for a month and car insurance for the next couple of months.  And all through the generosity of his family.

August is but a month away and though we hadn’t thought about what we were going to do for rent, we are focusing on the here and now.  I have been fully confident that the Lord has a plan for Mark and that plan includes some sort of an income.

This morning Mark’s phone rings.  I hear him talking and instantly my heart clenches, I grow tense.  Over the last few months anything coming through the post or anyone calling has been a reason for concern.  Instead, it’s his uncle.  His aunt & uncle had been talking last night and they have a house that belonged to her mother just sitting empty that they are offering us the use of for as long as we might need it.  Mark immediately told his uncle that we’d take care of it, maintain it, do whatever fixing needing done.  And we told him we’d come down on Friday to take a look at it to see if we’d like it.  (I’m willing to take this sight unseen.  Talk about a god-send)

While at his interview thing today, Mark was told that he’s been scheduled to work today, tomorrow and Friday at this cake factory place where he worked a couple of shifts.  He has been trying to call to get more shifts but they’ve not returned any calls for work.  4 shifts is a little over 30 hours a week.  He only needs to work about 30h/week to pay all our most basic bills.  So we are going to pray that they have work for him every single day.

And now we need to call back his uncle and let him know we can’t come Friday and if he gets work Saturday then we’ll come on Sunday… right after church.

God is good

All the time

All the time

God is good