Decidedly not English

What can I say, it's been an English kinda month. A whole season, in fact, as my time here ticks over the three month mark.

A whole three months of offending British sensibilities, translating communication attempts that 'beat around the bush' and making enemies both on public transport and in the workplace.

I've been thinking recently, I thought I was English before - after all, it's my ethnicity and cultural heritage. But I am, decidedly not. 

Getting more localised, Londoner I am not. Yet.

First of all I need to give you my interpretation of what being English means:

1. Massive amounts of people pleasing. You will never hear an English person let on that they are unhappy with you leaving the teabag in their sink, for example (and no I never do that). You will never hear an English person tell you that they want to go home as that's their last drink, when you have just ordered a large Long Island Ice Tea (yes, I do this), and you are going home together. You will rarely hear an English person tell you to do something directly, even when they are in the middle of delivering devastating news e.g. 'erm, so would you, you know, be OK with moving out in ten days?' (This happened to me when my flatmate wanted her boyfriend to move in)

Moving on...

2. Hello postal service. Greetings, Snail Mail. Make friends with your Mailman / Woman. I had the displeasure of opening another account with HSBC (a business one). And I had to register for VAT (GST). I received a total of four envelopes preparing me for the fact that I would be registered for the Taxman / Woman. It went something like... "Dear Albino Kiwi, we have registered you, be prepared for the preparation." "Be prepared for the registration." 

I'm sure you get it. Tedious. Uneccesarily slow. Unnecessarily paranoid of email and hacking. Maybe I'm too attached to my Gmail?

3. My accent. It is miles apart (oh gawd I've left the metric system already). But seriously, some people here have no frigging idea what I am saying. England interprets the English language completely differently from the Antipodes. My vowels are still weird. I still can't ask for a pen without getting confused looks. 

So I guess those are some of my initial impressions of what it means to be English. 

What do we have in common? A sense of hospitality. I have been treated like a Queen in newfound friend's homes. 

That's once I get inside the door. If I'm lucky. 

I was stuck next to an old man on a bus the other day, trapped by the window. Said scuse me and tried to get out at my stop. He didn't move so I squeezed past, tripped over his feet and then stepped on one of them. 

"What the fuck was that?!?" He exclaimed, spittle flying out of his mouth in rage. 

"I'm so sorry sir, I didn't mean to, are you OK?"

[WTFery I just tripped over you because you didn't get out of my way]

"Are you drunk? How dare you?"

Of course I wasn't drunk. If I was drunk I would have been ubering. 

"I'm so sorry," etc etc and much embarrassment and shame. 

And this, would never happen in New Zealand. 

I have never met such self-entitled folk in NZ. 

So. To summarise. I am not as English as once thought. 

The culture I come from is a straight-up one and we never treat strangers like that. 

Or at least I hope. 

It's good to get some identity behind this crazy path of the Albino Kiwi. And surprising, though not unpleasant, to learn that my supposedly British culture can be distinguished from where it originated from in the 1800's. 

Heh. You learn something new every day. 

London vs Down under

25.07.18

Where does the time go? I've been here almost three months now. The last month has all blurred into a routine, a routine which I got out of while I could. 

I have quit my new job already. 

And now I am seriously out of my comfort zone. I stayed four-and-a-half years in my last role. 

Testament to how bad work is for me (for us all, I'm sure), I haven't written anything since Amsterdam. I've been so tired. Summer in London is like a sweltering humid sweat cloud that seeps under your clothes and wakes you up at 5:15 am. All the energy has been squeezed out of me in this heat. I haven't found a new Jiu-jitsu gym (but luckily there has been some training), I haven't got around to updating this thing and I haven't got a new job yet. All I want to do is sleep and drink chilled soda water. 

But here I am, all suited up for lunchtime interviews today, tomorrow and Friday. And despite technically not having a job I am headed to Strasbourg, France via Amsterdam this Friday. Vivre au présent etc.

I've been meaning to do a comparison between London and the antipodes, the colonialists and the colony. So the following is a list of things that contrast. I am referring specifically to Melbourne, Auckland and London.

Phone coverage

What. The. Actual. Where is the phone coverage in London? Because it's not on the Vodafone network in the CBD! Be prepared to hang up on your friends, colleagues and clients. Or get a landline and save yourself from misery. This applies to the tube, your bathroom, brick buildings and old colleges in the city made of stone.

Lack of directness with people you don’t know that well. Think “um, excuse me, but would it be OK if you possibly, you know, found a new job in the next couple of weeks? It’s just that, with some changes we had to go through a restructure.” (Don’t worry by the way, I didn’t get fired or anything.) Directness seems to be an Antipodean thing. Yet the British get away with being classed as polite. More like indecipherable? Haha, I’m kidding. Honestly, I am fond of them.

Speaking of class though, I know I was privileged enough to not have to deal with this growing up in New Zealand. Not much, anyway. You definitely get a sense of different class levels here, it can be picked up in the accents, the dress sense, the demeanor and the attitudes of people. 

Big City Life. So, I thought Melbourne was a big city. Not even close. There’s also more space in Melbourne and even more in New Zealand – Auckland is a lovely seaside village compared to this. London is a country all on her own. At least one hundred different cultures all squished together in a sardine can with a river through the middle. And on the tube, some are in a sour mood indeed. 

Food – maybe I haven’t tried enough, Melbourne still wins here. Not by far though. London is full of a huge variety of different fresh foods. Plant-based diets seem to be more common, but they are carried out quietly, English style. In Australia being vegan is like having to say where you get your protein from almost every day. I have been delighted at the different types of vegan cheeses available in a typical supermarket, and although it’s only a rumour right now; apparently there are vegan Cornettos too. Be still my stomach!

Salaries – although I have been lucky enough to be interviewed for some roles that surpass my Melbourne salary, you get paid a lot less here for more responsibility. When job hunting, I never turn down any opportunity for an interview. There was one role I turned down yesterday though; they were simply asking too much for too little. On my fourth day of being unemployed, I regret this now.

Social life – harder to crack into, but I have made a couple of very good friends. 

Public transport – better.

Shopping – Melbourne better.

All in all, I’m willing to keep trying at this thing, this massive city, this experience. Writing helps me gain some perspective and I always feel better for doing so. So here’s to more London, and more writing.