From Heartland to Motherland

Friday, January 11 in the Cincinnati airport -- Well it’s about that time to start blogging again, and what better time than in the airport, where I feel like I spend a large chunk of my life these days?

Word of day: fringe
This is the new development of hair on my face that Americans call “bangs.” [My Canadian roommate Kendra later informs me that Canadians say "bangs" and "fringe" to mean two different styles.]

From Heartland to Motherland
I have probably left home for weeks at a time at least 30 times since I originally left home for school at age 18. My discovery: It does in fact get easier in some ways (you can up your tolerance over time from 300 miles to 3,000 miles away). However, there is a certain threshold of ease when leaving home; it never feels like a walk in the park. Especially when you have to see that proud/sad face on your 115-pound mother each time you head for the airport security line or pull out of the driveway…Sigh.

Well anyway, let’s get to the part where I mention the a few things that culture shocked me when I got back in the old U.S.A.:

1. Baggy clothing. I forgot that American men don’t wear skinny jeans the way those British boys do. (And don’t even suggest that they should or you are in for an interesting response.)

2. Lack of escalator etiquette. Here I was in a rush to get to my connecting flight in Atlanta and these oblivious Americans are hanging all over the escalator as if you are actually supposed to stand there and let it whisk you up to another level.

3. Every other kind of etiquette. My mom just sneezed and a random person said “bless you.” I feel like if someone did that in London the sneezer would think “What’s it to you??” (But then again, talking to strangers is so Midwestern. Right now I am in the Midwest but taking a flight to London – should I talk to a stranger or not?) [Note, it's not that English people aren't helpful when they need to be -- such as the two gentlemen who helped me with my bags after this post was written -- but they do these things with as few words as possible.

4. Bigness. Everywhere. The toilets are extra large and to me signify an often wasteful society. The SUVs rule the big fat highways. The people look like they had too much Taco Bell. (I don’t blame them, as I got it twice in one day at one point).

5. Hippies. I went back to one of my favorite bars in Athens, Ohio, to see Southeast Engine, a now natioanlly touring band born and bred in Southeast Ohio and a college favorite of mine. As I looked around the bar, I was reminded that the look of the “indy kid” in America is a lot more bohemian than the British. British = mohawks. Ohioans = dreadlocks … or something unwashed and resembling them.

Well I had my fill of Ohio, but man I forgot how much I love this darn place. I’m going to have to tear myself away from watching endless election speculation on CNN to get back to the “real world” of writing about global custody in the hustle and bustle of pinstripes that is old London town.

I am now reading: I just finished the book England, England by Julian Barnes. It was tough to get into, but the premise was creative and jam-packed with satire: An English amusement park is developed on an island outside of England, giving tourists the opportunity to see everything that is quintessentially English without having to run all over England. The thesis: Perhaps people prefer replicas to actuality. A cynical thought to have as I take the time to fly all the way over to the real England.