Achieving Goal 3.5

In a recent post, I mentioned how the fact that I ‘speak’ two
‘Englishes’ can sometimes be a bit of an occupational hazard. Lately, I have also paused to consider the other ways that I have been influenced by 8 years ‘across the pond’.

Some of these things are fairly straightforward and obvious. I say ‘zed’. I spell with extra ‘u’s and fewer ‘z’s. I have first-hand experience with the landmarks and situations discussed in the textbooks: I have been to The British Museum; Shakespeare’s Houses, Warwick Castle and Hyde Park multiple times; I have bought a train ticket in Waterloo Station. I have more photographic evidence of London than I do of Houston. Truthfully, these are linguistic adjustments that can be easily made and experiences that any tourist can have. I don’t deny that.

Instead, I mean the cultural implications of spending my adolescence in England. Simple, everyday things: the newspapers I read; the sports I watched, the places I lived and where I went to school. And now, some of the words I use and the way I interpret the weather. Understandably, my experiences don’t exactly compliment those of the other PCVs around me and occasionally baffle Azerbaijanis. It has led to some hilarity and good-natured confusion.

Thus, I present some anecdotes that best illustrate the trend I have started to categorize as Goal 3.5: Explaining British-ness.

The Ways I Baffle PCVs:
B: You never went to an American high school?
M: No. I was in England. I left when I was 13 and came back for college.
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M: Smithsonian Magazine is awesome. Where has it been my whole life?
L: You’ve never read it? It’s been around for forever.
M: I didn’t come back until I was 21.
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M: *hangs up after phone conversation with British friend and returns to a room full of PCVs*
PCVs: Your accent is awesome. Can you speak like that for the rest of the night?
M: I can’t do it on demand. I have to hear it.
PCVs: If we watch Love Actually tonight will that work?


The Ways PCVs Baffle Me:
My site-mate had the new Mandela movie lying around her house.

M: Can I borrow this?
L: Sure. But they play this really weird game in it. That I just DIDN'T understand. (If you haven't seen or heard about it - the plot centers around the fact that South Africa hosted the Rugby World Cup in 1995).
M: What? You mean rugby? (Imagine my good-natured bafflement that this is in fact a foreign sport to some people)
L: Is that what it's called? It had no logic to it.
M: Of course there is - you have to throw the ball backwards or sideways. Not forward.
L: Well one of the teams did this really weird dance too. Like Samoans or something.
M: (I burst out laughing at this point) You mean the All Blacks? They're the NZ team. It's a Maori war dance. An intimidation tactic. They're really famous for doing that. It's like their signature. They do it at the start of every game.
L: Huh. I learned something new today.

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Or just last week – and the primary reason I decided to write this blog post now –

M: So there’s this AZ8 that wants to bring a thermometer.
L: I have one.
M: Yeah. But it’s not really necessary. I told her not to worry, the temperatures are on TV constantly.
L: Yeah. In Celsius. Which Americans don’t understand.
M: Oh. I didn’t think of that. Oops.

It honestly didn’t occur to me until my site-mate mentioned it. I think nothing of the fact that the TV temperatures are in Celsius; it makes sense to me. I grew up with Celsius; I just took it for granted that everyone else did too. So, on second thought: Bring those Fahrenheit thermometers. ☺

Apologies. This was long. And largely pointless. I hope it was at least a little bit entertaining, even if it was only comprehensible to those of you who spell funny, watch rugby and ‘speak’ Celsius.

Harry Potter Turned 30

And I turned 24. (Also in Azerbaijan: a fellow PCV, a family friend, a neighbour’s daughter and postal employee’s sister were a year older on the same day.)

It was an eventful day.

I discovered that there is bus in from my village that goes directly to downtown Salyan. Nothing says Happy Birthday quite like the gift of convenient transportation.

I had three packages waiting at the post office for me. The contents was definitely something to celebrate: recipes; new clothes; chocolate cake and frosting mix; books about my favourite things; recordings of the Vancouver Olympics and an oven mitt. Plus the standard shipment of magazines, candy and food stuffs.

I was able to buy a Magnum ice cream bar at the grocery store, and it didn’t melt while I walked home.

I made Mexican lentils for dinner on Friday, and made pancakes for breakfast on Saturday morning.

Upon my return to the village: the neighbours also out-did themselves. Even though the festivities were slightly delayed due to a power outage. (Clearly, the universe wanted me to have an authentic Peace Corps birthday experience.)

My former host family hosted the party. They made all the traditional celebration fare, but they were also mindful of the fact that I am not particularly fond of the typical main dish; ergo, my host brother barbequed a whole chicken for my benefit. It was very tasty!

A neighbour graciously made me an awesomely delicious cake on very short notice. Although I am still mystified by the fact that the recipe called for 18 eggs!

I would also like to acknowledge the generosity of my summer camp students. I threw them a party at the end of the week as a thank you for attending two months of ‘English school’ during the summer. I did NOT mention that it was going to be my birthday at the end of the week. But somehow word got out and each of my students brought me a birthday gift and they sang Happy Birthday (in English!).

So I would consider it a success, and definitely the most enjoyable birthday I’ve had in the last few years.

Also, it’s officially been 3 years since my family repatriated. I haven’t spent a consecutive 12 months in Texas yet. Oops.