Fish & Chips: Divided by a common langauge

“Are there more of you students in the queue, then?” the UK customs officer asked me, glancing up from my passport and nodding behind me at the line of exhausted travelers. My brain, still operating as if it were 4 a.m., slowly registered what he meant by “queue,” and I pointed out my fellow Luther students in the line and at the other customs desks. I breathed a sigh of relief as he stamped my passport, and chuckled to myself when he handed it back, saying, “There you are, love. Follow the queue through there.” I’ve since learned not to chuckle - even the men who check my ID at the pubs and the women in public restrooms affectionately, yet respectfully, call me “love.”

Now, one certainly expects to experience culture shock while studying abroad in Tanzania, China, Norway or even Mexico... but England? We speak the same language, watch the same movies and listen to the same music. There’s even McDonald’s and a Wal-Mart chain in the UK. Still, it’s a foreign country, and, for the first time in a very long time, I feel like a complete outsider.

When some of us students decided to take a shopping excursion to Asda, known as “part of the Wal-Mart family” in the UK, I proceeded to the self-checkout line. After pulling a ten pound bill (or, as the Brits say, “note”) out of my wallet, I slipped it into the machine. It spat coins into a dish in front of me as the mechanical woman’s voice recited, “Please retrieve your change,” in a British accent. Noticing the line (or “queue”) forming behind me, I snatched the coins, grasped my bag and stepped back from the machine. Suddenly, a little boy from a line nearby stared at me with the most quizzical expression, then pointed to a lower slot on the machine and yelled, “Your five note! You’ve left your five note!” Realizing I hadn’t looked closely enough at my money to realize that I was five pounds short, I thanked the wide-eyed boy, seized the bill and stashed it away, trying not to look anyone in the eye as I joined the other Luther students.

My embarrassing slip with the currency, insignificant as it was, reminded me that there are certain cultural aspects I can’t take for granted anymore. Currency isn’t the only aspect that takes extra thought. Communication can be a whole new experience. Thick accents and puzzling vocabulary changes cause a lot of, “What? Sorry... Say that again,” in common conversations. The simple act of ordering an ice cream cone from an elderly local woman led to the realization that we must, instead, ask for an ice cream “cornet” and that they may come with or without “flakes,” a stick of crispy chocolate sticking out the side of it.

Many times, it seems easier to lose patience and scream, “Just give me the ice cream, already!” in a hungry fit. Yet, I’ve learned to embrace the cultural differences, not judge them. And that’s the most important part of being an outsider or a foreigner, especially for the first awkward and confusing week.