It occurred to me recently, as I listened to my "Harvard Business Review" podcast, that I clearly have not embraced the ways and means of my host country. I religiously watch Sky+ TV tapings of the "Daily Show with John Stewart", devour my weekly international edition (I use this term loosely) of Time magazine, and have lately been spending an inordinate amount of time listening to the Allman Brothers. I beg Andrew to take me to Costco's so I can stock up on the American products I long for, like Skippy peanut butter and Chicken of the Sea solid white tuna (though I note that I've had to compromise on the brands, since the ones I prefer are not available even at Costco, but close enough). It seems I am the embodiment of the stereotypical immigrant: the snivelling, obdurate emigre who comes to live and work in a new land yet refuses to assimilate. I can only now fully appreciate why adults who move abroad cling to the features, sounds and images of their home country; I suppose it's only natural. I realize we are most happy with and comforted by the things on which we were raised and are most familiar, and if I had been born here I would crave and seek that which I currently find not so much to my taste.
Monday, May 25, 2009
Dissimilate
It occurred to me recently, as I listened to my "Harvard Business Review" podcast, that I clearly have not embraced the ways and means of my host country. I religiously watch Sky+ TV tapings of the "Daily Show with John Stewart", devour my weekly international edition (I use this term loosely) of Time magazine, and have lately been spending an inordinate amount of time listening to the Allman Brothers. I beg Andrew to take me to Costco's so I can stock up on the American products I long for, like Skippy peanut butter and Chicken of the Sea solid white tuna (though I note that I've had to compromise on the brands, since the ones I prefer are not available even at Costco, but close enough). It seems I am the embodiment of the stereotypical immigrant: the snivelling, obdurate emigre who comes to live and work in a new land yet refuses to assimilate. I can only now fully appreciate why adults who move abroad cling to the features, sounds and images of their home country; I suppose it's only natural. I realize we are most happy with and comforted by the things on which we were raised and are most familiar, and if I had been born here I would crave and seek that which I currently find not so much to my taste.
Dissimilar
After our trip last year to Venice, Italy, I made a post on this blog, comparing the Grand Canal in Venice with the Leeds to Liverpool canal in Wigan. This year, we went to beautiful Paros, Greece but I'm hard pressed to compare the climes of Wigan with this sunny island in the Aegean. Five days home..... five days unrelenting rain. Ah, but there is an exception to every rule and we had a glorious day of sunshine in the North West on Sunday. Here are some photos from our trip last week. Also check out our new friends' blog on Paros (friends are new, not their blog!).
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