It's hard to believe that an entire year has passed since that morning I stepped off the plane and, with a camera in one hand and a return ticket in the other, assured the customs agent I was arriving for a two-week holiday.  

To say my life has changed since then would be an understatement, so I'm going to focus on those differences that have come about because of my change in location, not my switch from single to marital status (which could, by itself, fill volumes).  So here, I've compiled a few observations about what I find different, what I miss and how I feel I'm adjusting to life in my new country. 

Things I Miss about the US: 

Real Baked Beans:
They have baked beans here--Beans-on-Toast is a national dish, after all--but they don't offer much variety.  In a US Supermarket, when you go down the Baked Bean isle, there are a myriad of options: Baked Beans, Boston Baked Beans, Barbeque Baked Beans, Vegetarian Baked Beans, Baked Beans with Molasses and Bacon, B&M Baked Beans, Bush's Baked Beans, etc.  Here, you get a bog-standard can of Heinz Baked beans.  Period. They're okay, but they don't compare to the up-market brands I could buy in the States.  And there's no Boston Brown Bread to go with them, either. 

Real Hot Dogs:
They come in a jar here.  A JAR!  What's up with that?  I tried them once; that was enough. 

Clam Chowder:
 I love a good clam chowder and am always on the lookout for it when I go to a new restaurant.  (The best I have found so far, by the way, is at the Atlantic Café, on Nantucket Island.)  In the US, if it's not the soup-of-the day, it's usually on the soup menu.  And if I don't see it, I always ask.  It took a while for it to sink in, but after months of not finding any, it began to dawn on me that it doesn't exist here.  I can't imagine why, it's an island for Pete's sake!

Fortunately, it's easy to make.  Unfortunately, I accidentally grabbed my wife's British measuring cups instead of my American set and ended up with four times more than the recipe was supposed to make.  It's a good thing I really, really like clam chowder. 

Boston Chicken:
Nature's perfect food.  Nothing beats a take-out meal of Boston chicken with a side order of corn bread, mashed potatoes, gravy, creamed corn and a slab of carrot cake for desert.  To be fair, I was missing this even before I left the States.  Heady with success, they branched into ham and meat loaf dinners, changed their name to Boston Market and promptly went into Chapter 11.  Just goes to prove the old adage: "Dance with the one that brung ya'".

Live Music in bars: 
I've already written about this.  Morons! 

Post Script: My wife says she heard on the radio that this particular bit of legislation is being rethought. I guess the grass-roots protests had an effect. 

Cheap, readily available Cuban Cigars:
Believe it or not, it's easier to get Cuban cigars in the US where they are outlawed.  All you need is an Internet connection and a couple of bucks.  Here, all you need is your local tobacconist and a second mortgage.  I can't smuggle them in the way I did in the US because (well, that would be wrong, wouldn't it-you customs agents can go about your business now, nothing of interest here) being legal, they simply mail them, undisguised, and customs tacks an extra few hundred pounds on them as they cross the boarder.  It's so ironic I find it funny.  I do understand that there are cheap cigars on the Continent, and I can legally bring back a few boxes with me when I visit.  Soon. 

St. Patrick's Day celebrations: 
In the States, the saying holds true that there are two types of people, the Irish, and those who want to be Irish.  And that goes double on St. Patrick's Day.  Here, the real Irish tend to keep quite about it and the English certainly don't want to pretend to be them.  It seems, if I want a raucous, daylong drinking celebration that ends with thousands of inebriated people singing and screaming and marching in the streets, I have to attend a Man-U match. 

Coin Rollers: 
I'm one of those guys who doesn't carry coins.  Whenever I get home, if I have any coins in my pocket, I toss them into a jar on my dresser.  When the jar is full, I sort then, roll them and exchange them for paper currency.  Here, they use little bags, and it's just not the same.  There is something immensely gratifying about stuffing coins into little paper tubes and crimping the ends; a miniature baggie just can't provide that level of satisfaction.  On the other hand, it bears noting that saving coins here is more lucrative than it was in the States.  The lowest paper currency they have is a 5 pound bill, so their coins can be worth the equivalent of $3.  A jar of coins in the UK is worth way more than it is in the US. 

Things I Don't Miss:

The Weather:
 It helps that I came from a part of the US described by the National Weather Service and home buying guides as having a 'harsh' climate but, to me, this infamously damp, chilly, foggy, dreary English weather makes me feel like I've just checked into the Savoy after serving time in a Turkish prison.  Sure, it can be grey here and it does drizzle a lot more, but the truth is, it rains less where I live now than it did back in the US.  Sometimes the rain pounds down spectacularly, but mostly it drizzles, which allows people to go about their business as if nothing is happening.  The best thing is, no matter what form it comes down in, I don't have to shovel it. 

Shoveling snow: 
This isn't one of those onerous chores, like ironing, that you can put off until a rainy Sunday afternoon.  If it snows, you gotta drag your ass out of bed an hour earlier and schlep outside where the air is so cold it hurts to breathe and start excavating the pile of snow and ice that used to be your car. 

SUV's: 
Over the past few years, driving in the States was becoming maddening.  It seemed I couldn't drive anywhere without some big-wheeled mutant vehicle that looked like the love-child of a BMW and a commuter bus in front of me blocking my view.  These four-wheel drive gas tanks were usually driven by some 5' 2" 120 lb Soccer mom, fixing her make-up and chatting to her therapist on a cell phone, on her way to the Wendy's Drive-thru window to pick up dinner for her family.  Over here, the cars are positively tiny.  You can fit a Classic Mini and a Smart car in the back of a Chevy Suburban and still have room left over for your hockey gear.  This doesn't mean the people over here drive any better, but at least when I'm following a 62 Centimetre, 8-stone, football mum, chatting on her mobile while on her way to the fish and chip shop, I can see more then the arse-end of her vehicle. 

Bugs: 
I'm not sure it this is true in all of Britain but, where I live at least, you can open your windows and doors in nice weather without having to affix industrial-strength screens.  In Upstate NY, the bugs are legendary; in all but the coldest of months, you can't step outdoors without being ambushed by 18 varieties of blood-sucking insects.  Keeping them out of your house is a perpetual battle.

Kwanza:
It's a made-up holiday. I'm not sure why that annoyed me but now I don't have to deal with it. 

Conclusion:

Over this past year, I've concluded that the biggest difference between America and Britain, and the rest of the world for that matter, is convenience.  Americans are all about convenience; we want it now, we want it cheap and we don't want to have to go too far to get it.  I can't be sure, but I'd bet serious money that the drive-thru window was invented by an American.

Twenty-four hour stores are also big in the US, as are wide roads and football-field sized parking lots.  In Britain, outside of major cities, everything closes at 5:00.  In my office, of the 6 people in my unit, only two drive to work.  Seeing a movie takes a bit of planning as there isn't a 24-screen mega-plex around every corner.  Pubs close at 11:00 and, in my town of 30,000 people, if you walk down the street at 9 PM, it's as deserted as a similar town in the US would be at 3 AM. 

Overall life is slower, easier and less hectic.  There's more depth and less flash and not as many McDonald franchises.  In the US, if I felt the sudden urge for a wicker basket, lean pork chops and a garlic press at 2:30 in the morning, I could drive to the 24-hour super-store and have them within half an hour.  In Britain, I wait until the weekend, and by then realize I didn't really need them in the first place. 

To an American, it may seem like an inconvenient way to live, but in the long run, it saves a lot of unnecessary trips.

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