“But you know what the funniest thing about Europe is? It’s the little differences.”
-Vincent Vega, “Pulp Fiction”

And now, the moment you’ve all been waiting for. After several references and sections of entries devoted to the discrepancies between American and British culture, I’ve jotted down enough material to merit an entire, solitary feature on these quirky bits.

Let’s start with food. “Tea” can, but doesn’t always, mean dinner. This varies from person to person. Some always call their dinner tea, some don’t. I suppose it can be compared to dinner or supper in the U.S. There is a popular condiment in the U.K. simply called Brown Sauce. My non-British flatmates and I had a field day on this one (“It’s obviously brown! Do you really need to state it on the label?!”) and its proud stance as a pinnacle of imaginative naming. Cream cheese can be called “Philadelphia.” More often than not, these things come at you completely from left field, and you are left clueless to what is under discussion. Count “pickle” in this area, as it’s a strange, brownish condiment that may or may not actually have any pickle in it. A pickle and cheese sandwich is tasty, though.

Brown sauce.

Before “Posh” was the name of the limelight’s favorite Spice Girl/wife of David Beckham, it meant – and still means in everyday vernacular – fancy, rich, high-class. Example: “We’re having company tonight, can you get out the posh plates?”

Some – not all, but I’ve witnessed this enough times to note it – Britons wash their dishes in a most curious fashion. The process is thus: place dishes in sink of soapy water for a short time, remove dishes and leave to dry. The soap is not removed, and the dishes are not scrubbed. Sometimes. Once again, I’m not trying to indict the dishwashing culture here, but this is apparently a valid practice for some.

It’s “anticlockwise,” never counterclockwise. A band-aid is a “plaster.” Braids are “plaits.” Tire is written “tyre” (seems ancient, I know). The trunk of the car is the “boot.” “Car park,” not parking lot. “Pavement,” not sidewalk. Your car’s running low on “petrol,” not gas, which brings me to the next topic: British prices for the aforementioned lifeblood of automobiles. A liter (I mean, “litre”) of petrol runs for about £1.00 - £1.05 here at the moment. This equals to over $7 per gallon. $7 per gallon. Or, if you visit this website, their estimates run closer to $9 per gallon. Reflect on this next time you groan over gas prices in the good old U.S. and A.

I mentioned in an earlier entry that the U.K. happily employs a hodgepodge of measurements, including miles, liters, inches, meters, kilograms, etc. They also have a unique weight measurement: the stone. One stone is equal to 14 pounds or roughly 6.35 kilograms.

Enough of the trivial – more culture-riffic areas beckon the attention of this entry. The popular television shows – the ones that everyone talks about, plans their nights around, and convene religiously to enjoy – are on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday! Name one extremely popular American television show on any of those nights, over the history of time (if you actually think of one, please keep it to yourself and don’t embarrass me). I found this extremely interesting. Of course, the BBC re-airs these programs later in the week for those who don’t want to skip a Saturday night of pubbing and clubbing just to see who got voted out on “The X-Factor.”

I’ve eaten a handful of meals in British homes and restaurants in my three months here and have rarely been presented a napkin. Once again, this is no critique of the customs in the British, merely the note of a routinely messy eater. Scarfing down traditional English fare is a mighty challenge without a paper or cloth safeguard against mess, particularly for someone formerly known by his father as “Napkin Boy.” As in, I am a napkin at the dinner table, not a chap with a peculiar affinity for them. Moving on…

Try eating this with no napkin and see how clean you come out…

I’ve also slept at three of my British friends’ homes, and not once was there a sheet to sleep under; only a sheet to sleep on, and a comforter (“duvet”) to sleep under. Not what I’m used to, but I’ve always been so tired (“knackered”) in these situations, and so grateful for a nicer bed than mine, that it’s never a matter of concern. Unrelated side note: refrigerators are sometimes indistinguishably disguised as cabinets in the kitchen.

Beginning on the very first day in England and throughout my time in Wales, it has never been an uncommon occurrence for me to be asked about gun regulations in the U.S. and if I’ve ever hunted, shot a gun, or owned a gun. Pet-owning in the U.S. is also a slightly less common, but still fairly regular, question. I will never forget Lucy’s mum’s question on my first morning in England: “In America, do they love their pets?” She clearly meant the question as a comparison to English pet affection, but it was nevertheless hilarious.

One more arbitrary tale to offer and you’re free to go: I finally received a long-awaited package from my mum and sisters today filled with the tasty trappings of home, or as my sister so concisely put in her note, “some American delicacies that you can’t get in Wales.” Included was candy (Kit Kat, Crunch, Hershey Symphony), Pepperidge Farm Milano cookies, Fritos, Doritos, and Cheetos (the three Os?!), sunflower seeds (addict), real peanut butter (the British version tastes completely like peanuts – I don’t like it), and FLUFF! I’ve been telling my flatmates about Marshmallow Fluff for months, and they were finally able to experience it. Even those who “don’t really like marshmallow” or weren’t that enthusiastic to try were eventually coaxed and absolutely loved the delightful heavenliness. I immediately slapped together a fluffanutter, as well, and I don’t think I’ve been so grateful to eat one.

Coming soon – semester wrap-up, plans for traveling home, and BIG plans for traveling next semester!

Cheers,

Zach

Thirsty? Fancy a spot of Keg Shandy, or mayhaps some Dandelion & Burdock?