An anniversary this week...

Forty years ago, in July, I moved from America to the UK.  When I moved I was absolutely certain that it was a temporary move and that I would be back in my beloved city of New York within two years. Clearly the forces that control such things had something completely different in mind for me.

I was lulled into a false sense of security by the use of a common language between the States and the UK.  I thought that it would be fairly easy to assimilate into this new culture.  I hadn't counted on how different they really are and that these differences go very deep. Looking back, I see now how shocked I was by the country I arrived in in July 1970.

When I arrived I was a newly married and recently pregnant young woman from (in my mind) a sophisticated and cosmopolitan city.  I arrived in London and initially assumed that it was a similarly cosmopolitan and sophisticated place.  I was wrong.  The London I landed in was almost like a small town in the services and amenities it offered.  Shops were tiny - no giant supermarkets here and restaurants were, on the whole, pretty awful and trapped in a diet of the the 1950's.  It was also a city on the cusp of internationality that hadn't yet arrived. The largest immigrant group I was aware of were West Indians and the Afro-Caribbean community lived in a non-integrated world where at least the food was more interesting.  The next large immigrant group was Asian (Indian/Pakistani) and the only information I had about this community was what every tourist knew,  that the best food in London was Indian food.  Whether this was actually true or was a reputation built on the poor English food, I'm not sure, but it did mean I got to sample some new foods and eventually learned about new cultures.

I was not suited to the English temprament.  I was loud, outgoing, spoke to strangers and I was very New York in my manner.  I was also Jewish, not religious, but a Yiddish-speaking culturally aware Jew and I was certainly a fish out of water.  I went from the city that never sleeps to a city that was hardly awake and was primarily Christian, at that! In New York there were at least 1.5 million Jews and in London it was about 280,000.  Where were the rest of my people??? Where could I get a good pastrami sandwich??

My in-laws were my introduction to the world of family life in the UK.  They seemed so small in the way they interacted with the world.  They would get in their tiny car and take little rides to somewhere out of London.  They brought a picnic that they ate sitting either in, or right next to, their car.  The picnic consisted of hard-boiled eggs, tea, a bit of limp-leafed salad and some sort of dry cake.  Yuk! This was not my idea of a fun day out.

Somehow, I made my way in London.  I found and cultivated a life.  I was always going to be too brash, too 'in your face' for the Brits, but we have grown used to each other. I can laugh at English humour, understand the Scots, no longer need sub-titles for most regional accents and now, after forty years I sometimes feel alien in America.  When I return to the States I feel like an imposter, like someone who secretly knows that under this heavy New York accent beats the heart of an English woman. 

I find many Americans too loud, obviously never hearing myself, too demanding and often downright impolite, but hey, these are still my people too.  I love having a foot in both camps, in being able to fit into so many environments.  There are moments when I feel like I don't fit into either environment, but they're not too frequent and I can cope with those times.  I have yet to pack hard-boiled eggs, Tupperware salt shakers and a flask of tea for a picnic, but there's always time.  Maybe next year we'll take a holiday in caravan or even Butlins.  Then I will know that I have truly assimilated.  Until then I'll settle for a remarkable forty years in this amazing country.