British Courtesy

 

 

I hope this won’t come across as a rant. It isn’t meant to be. It’s just some wonderings and musings about things I’ve read as well as things I’ve observed.

Recently I’ve seen a number of people online who say they’re from the UK complaining about Americans. It took me aback because I always thought we liked each other. And these are not political statements, simply the expressions of people who have observed Americans either on TV or in person. Also, my experience in traveling has shown me that people in the UK are very nice to me, an American.

Granted, the current political climate has made the US anathema to many of our former allies. I’m ashamed of that and horribly embarrassed by what has caused that, even though I had nothing whatever to do with it. I’m not terribly keen on America myself these days. But enough of politics.

Admittedly, I’m an Anglophile. It’s not the, “Ooh, I love your accent.” It’s “I love your country. I love that it’s not all asphalt. I love that, in some places, there are cows or sheep on the roads. We don’t have that where I’m from, and we didn’t even when I was growing up among geese, chickens and nearby orchards. I love that it’s not mini-America. (For one, your television shows are better.)

Yes, people employed at B&Bs and hotels are supposed to be polite. That’s not always the case. I’ve seen people being less than polite to others at restaurants and hotels – and I’m talking about the employees, not just some guy on the street.

But there are people who don’t have to be that have been kind. For example I’ve had several people offer me their seat on the underground when it was crowded, especially if I had a suitcase.

Yes, I know that there are signs on the underground telling the riders to give up their seats to pregnant women, the elderly and those with disabilities. Okay, I’m old enough to be considered “elderly,” I suppose. I am retired. But I don’t think I look so old that I need a seat.

While it’s kindly meant, it’s embarrassing, especially if I’m only traveling one stop. Otherwise, yes, because it’s expected, I’ll take the seat.

I’ve been in underground stations that had neither escalators nor elevators (few and far between, but I assume they’re very old stations that can’t be retro-fitted). No matter how lightly I pack, I’m usually there for at least two weeks, and my suitcase, although a carry-on, is heavy. 

Anyway, looking up the long stairway with suitcase beside me, I take a deep breath and brace myself to get up the stairs. Invariably, someone comes along before I’ve put foot on the first step, and takes my suitcase to the top and waits for me to catch up. These people have my undying gratitude because there have been other situations in which I had to struggle up a few flights of stairs with said suitcase.

People in the UK are helpful when I ask for directions or other help. But I approach quietly and ask politely. I don’t act like an entitled person.  I don’t push my Americanness as if it were a rite of passage card. I say please and thank you, excuse me, and could you help me. I thank people even if they’re unable to direct me to where I need to go. And of course, my first line of seeking information is a policeman or an information center – or the front desk of the hotel I’m staying in. I suppose I’m desperately afraid of making a mistake and being considered rude.

Yes, I know there are loud, obnoxious people from the US, with lots of money and not much in the way of manners. I shudder when I’m in the queue behind them because I don’t want to be tarred with their brush. Sometimes I find myself apologizing for my fellow countryman’s behavior because I want those who come into contact with Americans to know that we’re not all like that. Some of us were not raised in a barn.

It’s true we Americans have some confounding ideas. We’re used to free refills of salads and soft drinks in many places, we expect ice in our drinks even in the winter, and sometimes we fail to recognize a serving size because ours are so huge. But I tend to do as the natives do. I’ve surprised more than a few waitresses when they asked if I wanted ice in a drink, and I said, “No, thank you.” I’ve learned what a biscuit is and that tea is actually a meal. But I’m sorry, I will never be able to eat baked beans at any meal. I’ll take the toast, thanks, but give the beans to someone else, please.

I’ve never had an issue with the people in any part of the UK when I’m traveling, and I don’t understand the people online who are from there and have such negative things to say about Americans.  Yes, they may have run into some of the rude ones – there are rude people in just about every country, but I let it go because the nice ones outweigh the rude ones – and maybe they’re playing up their own vitriol, but every time I see something like that online, I wonder if the next visit is going to be the one where I get treated like a blight on the world for where I come from. I certainly hope not. But I will continue to employ good manners wherever I go.

I was raised with the notion that when you travel, whether it’s to a relative’s house a half hour away or to another country, you are a guest. You don’t own the place. You are in no way entitled to anything. If it isn’t yours, you don’t touch it without invitation. You are, as a guest, there by the kindness of your host.

I may sound old-fashioned, but, well, I am old enough to be one of those people you give up a seat on the tube for. I’ve never found courtesy hurt anyone. A please, a thank-you, even – or especially – if the other person is being rude, often goes a long way toward good-will. But if all else fails, it’s fine to just walk away. No expletives or derogatory remarks needed.

I look forward to the next time I get to visit the UK. There are so many places I haven’t seen yet, and I love discovering new places. I have several trips worth of places. It’s also nice to know that there are two people there who enjoy spending time with me. There may be more.  I never assume.

I have distant relatives in the UK and Ireland whom I’ve met, and they’ve all been amazing, even though one, who I will assume was teasing, said, once we’d met, “Well,  you can check off that you’ve met me now,” as if I were only meeting people to say I had. I want them all to know I’m extremely jealous that they get to live where I wish I could, that they live in the culture while I only get to look in the window.

The next time I go in summer, I want to see the Orkneys and the Shetlands, and if time permits, possibly the Outer Hebrides.

I also still haven’t seen the Channel Islands or the Isles of Scilly. And I’d like to spend some time in Yorkshire. I’ve been to York but not the outlying area. I suppose I’ll need a car. (Yes, I’ve driven in the UK before, so I can deal with driving on the left, and I spent most of my adult life driving a standard shift car, so that’s not a problem) I particularly want to go to a town called Langhorne, since the next town over from the one I grew up in was called Langhorne, and was the “big town” in the area at the time.

The ideal thing for me would be to spend a few months traveling around the UK, but I’m not sure my husband could deal with my not cooking dinner that long, and my dog would miss me. But who knows? Maybe the dog and Jeff would finally bond!