Life in Seattle for an Englishman. I have been here 5 years now and it feels like home. What makes it home? Home to me can never be having my family close. They live in England. I haven’t come up with a way yet to make that closer…. It certainly helps having a great wife, a child, and her parents close (who are thankfully wonderful.. I honestly have some of the best in-laws around.. good job really, they are only 20 minutes away, and love our new son Drake!!).. But home is certainly more than that. For a place to feel like home, I need some familiarities. You need to know where you favorite tea and coffee shop is. Your favorite bakery. Your favorite grocery store, and farmers market. I need to know where at 5:30pm on a Sunday I can get a decent cut of fish for an evening BBQ that I forgot about. I need to have a favorite place to go jogging and unwind. The environment – this is huge.. I don’t enjoy desert like temperatures, and desert like scenery. No, Seattle is pretty close to England in terms of weather, although the scenery is remarkably different (pine trees! lots and lots of pine trees), but also somewhat similar (Washington Park Arboretum). As important as this are obviously the people. The US to me has a huge cross section of people, all with different attitudes, beliefs and ways of life. Thankfully, the way of life in Seattle suits me just fine. I tried southern California, and it wasn’t for me.. Too fast paced, too hot. Everyone wanted to be an actor (where I was anyhow). No thanks.
So there are some questions I get asked a lot… “What are the differences?” is one. Well.. we drink more tea. History, culture, architecture. All very different. The complete way of life is different. America to me seems very “big business”. Chains are king, and the little guys have to be very inventive to stay in business. The UK seems to have more of the little guys, and I certainly miss that in a way. I love the people over here. I can honestly say that in the 5 years here I have met very very few people that rubbed me up the wrong way. Everyone I meet seems to be happy, and really interested in where I am from, and what I am doing here. That is one thing I love about the US, people seem genuinely interested in your background.
One great example of this was during my first drive over to Montana, from Seattle. The drive is about 7 hours, and was the first time I was going over to meet Danika’s family. She had been over there for a week, spending time with the “girls” (her female relatives). Each year they have “girls week” where all of her mum’s sisters, and her get together for a week in a cabin or something, and just plain hang out. I was driving over to meet them all after this week away. So anyhow, this was the longest lone drive I had done here in the US, and by the time I reached Montana it was getting dark. I pull into a gas station, just of the I90, for a break. I am standing by my car, when a pickup pulls up, somewhat worst for wear, and an old guy hops out. He needs a break, and the bathroom, and asks me to keep an eye on his truck for me, he was having to leave it running, otherwise it might not start again. Sure! I said… thinking it was kinda odd that someone I didn’t know asked me to look after his truck. I guess I must have a honest looking face or something.
So.. he comes back after a few minutes, and hands me a water that he had bought for me. That’s nice I thought, and we got chatting. It turns out that he had been a fighter pilot during WW2, and was stationed only 20 minutes away from my old home in England. 30 minutes went by of us chatting, and then we both went on our way.
It was exactly what I needed then. A break, a decent conversation with someone, after being alone for 6 hours. And it struck me that in all the years I have lived in England, that has NEVER happened to me.. and I think it never would have done over there.
So I finally get to where I am staying.. With an uncle of Danika’s. I have neve met him before, never talked to him before. And again, another amazingly welcoming person. I instantly felt at home. I got a decent meal, and strong coffee. Danika’s father was there too, and we just sat in the kitchen of this tiny house in Montana, chatting and eating. Great times.
Some things I miss – the old architecture. I lived in a house that was over 500 years old. Yep.. older than the US. I have a huge passion for architecture, and I do miss the european buildings. I miss the countryside too. England has lots of it.. and it is all very green, very fertile. No scary bears either.. we got rid of all those ages ago. We have public walking paths that cover the countryside. These cut through farmland, forests, hills, you name it. A perfect Sunday is a nice sunny walk for 10 miles along these paths, through the countryside. Stop at a country pub for lunch, have a pie and beer, and walk home. Take a friend, set the world to rights. Yep. I grew up in the country, and miss it dearly. Not knocking the northwestern landscape, I love it to death too.. I just miss my English one also.
“Your too skinny to be a good cook” Not my favorite question. Not by a mile. You don’t have to be chunky to cook good food. I prefer clean, well balanced food, that is good for the body. Nothing funky.. no dodgy diets that cut out major food groups. Just clean, real food. If I end up the size of a house, I am certainly doing something wrong.
“You talk funny, where are you from?”.. I get that all the time. Or as one chap at a newstand in California said, in his best Australian accent (he was an American) “so what is it I say to ya, is it g’day or what?”. Bless.
