Traveling English

 

As most people who know me are aware, I like to travel.  As I’ve said previously, I often travel alone, especially when I’m going to the UK.

Why the UK? Well, they speak English. And I promised my husband I’d save Australia and New Zealand until he could go for long enough to see them properly.

Okay, according to those who live in the British Isles, it’s probably a misstatement to say I speak English. I speak the American version of English.

We were probably all taught a few differences between British and American English the first time we read a school-assigned book by a British author (if it hadn’t already been translated into American), like the use of ou in words we only use o in (color/colour, etc.), extra syllables in some words (Aluminum/aluminium; specialty/speciality) and car parts (A: roof/B: hood; A: hood/B: bonnet; A:windshield/B: windscreen; A: parking break/B: handbrake; A: turn signal/ B: trafficator; A: tire/ B: tyre)

But there are a good many terms that can lead to some often funny misunderstandings.

The British term for clothing that covers your lower torso and legs is (are?) trousers. While we sometimes use that term in the US, we usually say pants. All well and good except that in the UK pants refers to underwear. So, just imagine the amusement of someone there overhearing two American women discussing not wearing pants to a party, but wearing a dress instead.

Of course, having American TV programs (telly programmes), and experience with American tourists, just hearing the accent would clue them in on what the women meant.

In the UK, you don’t stand in line (or on line for New Yorkers). You stand in a queue, or queue up. Asking someone in the UK where the end of the line is would probably result in at least a momentary blank look.

In the UK a jumper is not a sleeveless dress that is worn with a blouse underneath. (That would be a pinafore, which, on the rare occasion that word is still used in the US, means a summer dress with frills at the armholes.) A jumper is a pullover sweater. The open front kind is called a cardigan (a word also used in the US). Of course, American's don't necessarily differentiate; we call both types sweaters.

One thing to note: never, ever call anything a fanny pack. They call them bum packs. (Does anyone even use them anymore?) Fanny is a vulgar term for a woman’s private parts. It certainly makes one wonder about the British band, the Bee Gees’ song, “Fanny, Be Tender with My Love.”

Pedestrian crossings on the road – picture the Beatles’ Abbey Road cover – are called zebra crossings, and those in the UK generally pronounce that with a short e. (Rhymes with Debra) I've recently been told the animal is as well. I’ve never been to the zoo there. And the letter Z is pronounced zed, except when referring to the band, ZZ Top.

You won’t hear “yeah” as much there, the Beatles notwithstanding, but you will frequently hear “whilst” rather than “while” or “amongst” in place of “among”

Americans are a people of euphemisms, possibly because of the country’s puritan roots, so we will say bathroom, rest room, ladies’/men’s room when we actually want a toilet. I suppose we’ve been trained not to say toilet in public. (Our commercials even say "bathroom tissue" rather than toilet paper.) Not so the British. If you need a toilet, it’s best to just ask directly -- although they do have ladies' and men's rooms in places like airports and railway stations.

I once asked for a bathroom at an older-style B&B, and was shown to a room containing only a tub and a sink. Seeing my confused look, the lady of the house finally said, “Oh, you want the toilet,” and showed me to a different room containing a toilet and a sink (what we would call a powder room or half bath).

While this is not the norm, it’s best to be direct. Of course, if you can’t bring yourself to say the word, they also call it the loo or the W.C.

The British and Irish are amused by Americans using brand names in place of generic terms: Scotch tape (although they call it Sellotape, which is also a brand name), Jell-O for gelatin, and Kleenex for tissues. Americans are confused by the British and Irish calling Jell-O jelly, which is what we often call preserves.

While Americans tend to think the British make words longer than we do, this is not always the case. They tend to say fridge rather than refrigerator and zip instead of zipper. Yes, Americans also sometimes use the word fridge, but zip is always a verb, while the noun is zipper.

Some words are the same in both countries, only with a different accent. For example, garage has the accent on the first syllable in the British Isles and on the second in the US (except in some parts of the East Coast where it has been carved down to a single syllable: Grazh.)

Story has two meanings in the US: something to be read or a floor of a building. In British English, the literary one is story, while a floor of a building is storey.

Pavement in America is the road surface; in the UK it’s the sidewalk. In the U.S., the road is surfaced with macadam; in the UK it’s tarmac. Both are shortened forms of tarmacadam. In the U.S., only airports have tarmac, our word for where the airplanes land.

You’d think we’d all have the same word for newer inventions. Not so. Americans have cell phones. The British have mobile phones (pronounced with a long I) A GPS in America is a Sat-Nav in the UK, and American security cameras are the same thing as British CCTV.

For those only taking a short vacation – called a holiday in the UK – this is probably more information than you’ll need.  Knowing chips are French Fries, crisps are potato chips, a lift is an elevator, the underground or tube is the subway system, "way out" means exit, and the natives want you to think that only Americans go to McDonald’s is basically all you need to know to get by.

If you are spending an extended time in the UK, I’d highly recommend a book called British English A to Zed. It’s a list of British words and their American counterparts, although in some instances, I’ve never heard of what they call the American version, since I’ve only ever heard the British phrase used. That could be due to where I’m from and the fact that I’m only third generation American, so my parents and grandparents were raised with the old-world terms. The book also contains explanations of some of the expressions.

If you go, have a great time. Just don’t call your umbrella a bumbershoot. You’re not visiting the set of Mary Poppins.