As I'm heading back to the UK today and as I'm looking for anything to do that isn't a) finishing packing, b)cleaning the kitchen floor or c) moving the mountain of wedding-present packaging out onto the curb, I thought I'd review one of the original to-do lists to see whether I have actually made progress in settling in here.
1. Get learners permit.
I put it off for as long as possible but eventually did achieve it.
2. Learn to drive.
This is happening. Slowly. I'm currently still recovering from attempting a hill start and then rolling backwards and almost hitting a car behind. Jeremy and I have so far only had one argument resulting from driving, where I was informed that I 'transform into a terrible person' behind the wheel and I have since tried very hard to remedy that.
3. Get social security number
Done, although I now have to go to the office and change my last name / get them to remove working restrictions etc etc.
4. Apply for /get Green Card.
Thank goodness this happened otherwise leaving today probably wouldn't be happening. Upon receiving my permanent resident status I cried out 'Yay, now I can leave'. Before that I'd been a prisoner of the immigration system.
5. Volunteer.
This is by far the best thing I've done. I'd like it even more if I got paid for it.
6. Learn French.
This was me thinking that with all my unemployed time I'd actually be motivated to put it to good use.
Hannah, meet Hannah...
...OK, this goal has been reviewed.
I did re-start my Rosetta Stone course, I just haven't got very far. I get frustrated having to answer stupid questions like "Is the boy eating an apple?" under a picture of a boy playing football and having to tell the computer "No, the boy is not eating an apple."
7. Move house.
I'm getting there. But this has been moved into the P.W. section of the year (Post Wedding)
8. Get a job.
See above, minus the 'I'm getting there' bit. Unemployment Rocks. (when you have a husband who transfers spending money into your account... which I think will start to have conditions attached P.W)
9. Make friends.
This is a work in progress. I certainly have people that were not in my life 6 months ago - I have people I can laugh with and get dinner with and probably confide in, should I have anything worth confiding - but it will take time for these friendships to really take root. In past experience, proper friendships have been born either out of living together or something dramatic involving hospitals and tears. I'm not going to be living with people any time soon so...
...hopefully there's more than one way to cement a friendship 'cause Manchester hospital UK is a long way from Boston.
10. Paint a picture.
See point 6. I think I got as far as drawing a chicken with oil pastels and I then accidentally cut it up while making a template for birthday bunting.
Progress Summary
"Overall Hannah has made good initial progress in settling into her new American life. She drags her feet when a task seems difficult or the results of said task involve effort, but eventually (after multiple motivation speeches from her mother and a few kicks up the bum from Jeremy) she does get her arse in gear. Perhaps most significant is that homesickness, while still present, has receded and on most days she feels happy in her life here. It will be interesting to see how homesick she feels when she returns from her upcoming visit to England. She is a little dubious about the approaching winter, and plans to weather this with red wellingtons, thermal underwear and a resistance to Jeremy's heat-saving tendencies. It is still early days in the emigre story, but the initial signs point to the move being a successful one."
Dammit now I've finished this I really do have to clean the kitchen floor.
Packing...
I'm supposed to be packing, but writing about packing is far easier than actually packing so here I am.
Usually I don't find packing hard at all. I chuck a ton of stuff in bag and trust that Jeremy will have remembered all the essentials I've forgotten. Or that I can buy them when we get there (hence the ridiculous number of sun-cream bottles, plasticky hair-brushes and cheap sun-glasses that we own).
This time packing is different. For every item of clothing that I put on the bed, ready to be smushed into my suitcase, my heart does a double beat. It sounds like this:
Wed-ding.
Somehow I have to pack for 2 weeks of English summer (which means packing for most countries' 4 seasons), a week of backpacking in France and a wedding. Even if we ignore for the moment the massive wedding dress that I'll be hand-luggaging my way to England with, it's still going to be a lot of stuff.
Meanwhile, whilst packing rain-coats and bikinis, jeans and summer-skirts I'm also processing my return to the motherland. So much has changed and I'll be seeing so many people who it's broken my heart not to see. Just thinking about it overwhelms me.
I know from past experience that the England I left will not be the England I'll return to. I will have changed - there will be inflections in my accent, new mannerisms, 'bad' table-manners (no judgment - it's way easier your way...) that will distinguish me as not-quite English and if other people aren't aware of it then I will be anyway. That doesn't worry me too much though. What worries me is that I'm only now beginning to shake the homesickness, to settle here and accept the distance. Am I going to lose all that ground?
Stop rolling your eyes at me. I am NOT complaining. I can't wait to be back in the UK, knowing my way around and being understood and having EVERYONE I love most in the world in one errrr tent for a night. I'm just aware it's going to be a little odd and saying goodbye is never ever easy.
Which is my excuse for packing very very slowly.
Usually I don't find packing hard at all. I chuck a ton of stuff in bag and trust that Jeremy will have remembered all the essentials I've forgotten. Or that I can buy them when we get there (hence the ridiculous number of sun-cream bottles, plasticky hair-brushes and cheap sun-glasses that we own).
This time packing is different. For every item of clothing that I put on the bed, ready to be smushed into my suitcase, my heart does a double beat. It sounds like this:
Wed-ding.
Somehow I have to pack for 2 weeks of English summer (which means packing for most countries' 4 seasons), a week of backpacking in France and a wedding. Even if we ignore for the moment the massive wedding dress that I'll be hand-luggaging my way to England with, it's still going to be a lot of stuff.
Meanwhile, whilst packing rain-coats and bikinis, jeans and summer-skirts I'm also processing my return to the motherland. So much has changed and I'll be seeing so many people who it's broken my heart not to see. Just thinking about it overwhelms me.
I know from past experience that the England I left will not be the England I'll return to. I will have changed - there will be inflections in my accent, new mannerisms, 'bad' table-manners (no judgment - it's way easier your way...) that will distinguish me as not-quite English and if other people aren't aware of it then I will be anyway. That doesn't worry me too much though. What worries me is that I'm only now beginning to shake the homesickness, to settle here and accept the distance. Am I going to lose all that ground?
Stop rolling your eyes at me. I am NOT complaining. I can't wait to be back in the UK, knowing my way around and being understood and having EVERYONE I love most in the world in one errrr tent for a night. I'm just aware it's going to be a little odd and saying goodbye is never ever easy.
Which is my excuse for packing very very slowly.
A Trifle
Wedding planning madness is being interrupted this weekend by Jeremy turning old.
To celebrate, we're having a big BBQ where we'll smoke a pork shoulder to make pulled pork and accompany it with many many delicious sides, demonstrating conclusively that Americans know how to do BBQs in a way us Brits would never imagine. British BBQs of sausages and burgers certainly have their place in my heart but this is something else. The mere addition of mashed potato is enough to convert me, but throw into the mix collard greens, corn bread and jambalaya and I'm sold.
I recently discovered that an array of English roast-dinner accompaniments go surprisingly well with BBQ. cauliflower cheese has been a massive hit, and I think roast potatoes and yorkshire puddings would fare well also. So in a strike of genius, I decided that for Jeremy's party I would make a traditional English trifle. A taste of home that would integrate well with the BBQ deliciousness.. I checked with Jeremy on whether the ingredients would be available in our local supermarket and I set out on a humidity soaked quest to obtain them.
It took me about an hour of traipsing around the supermarket and one phone call to Jeremy asking for descriptions of brands / boxes / locations before I finally had a basket of passable trifle ingredients.Here is what I found out, in case you too want to make trifle in America.
- Custard is called Pudding and is to be found disguised as Jell-o. Birds custard does exist in the 'British Foods' section but it was, like everything there, prohibitively expensive.
- Jell-o, as we English already know from watching far too much American TV, is what they call Jelly, only it comes in disconcertingly powdered form, rather than the temptingly edible gelatin cubes that I grew up with.
- Lady fingers don't exist but I settled on Vanilla flavoured wafers, which seem comparable but are found with the cookies rather than baking section.
- Jam, as I'm sure everyone knows, is Jelly, which is fine only it lurks in the bakery section, plus by this point I was getting confused with the jelly / jell-o thing anyway.
I was then asked at the check-out if I was paying with food stamps, which either says something about me or the food I was buying, I'm not sure.
Sorry, that was SO un-pc of me. I take it back.
So, armed with my dubious substitutes for trifle ingredients (what would Delia say?) I am going to attempt to wow Americans with my British culinary skills.
I can't say I'm holding out a huge amount of hope.
To celebrate, we're having a big BBQ where we'll smoke a pork shoulder to make pulled pork and accompany it with many many delicious sides, demonstrating conclusively that Americans know how to do BBQs in a way us Brits would never imagine. British BBQs of sausages and burgers certainly have their place in my heart but this is something else. The mere addition of mashed potato is enough to convert me, but throw into the mix collard greens, corn bread and jambalaya and I'm sold.
I recently discovered that an array of English roast-dinner accompaniments go surprisingly well with BBQ. cauliflower cheese has been a massive hit, and I think roast potatoes and yorkshire puddings would fare well also. So in a strike of genius, I decided that for Jeremy's party I would make a traditional English trifle. A taste of home that would integrate well with the BBQ deliciousness.. I checked with Jeremy on whether the ingredients would be available in our local supermarket and I set out on a humidity soaked quest to obtain them.
It took me about an hour of traipsing around the supermarket and one phone call to Jeremy asking for descriptions of brands / boxes / locations before I finally had a basket of passable trifle ingredients.Here is what I found out, in case you too want to make trifle in America.
- Custard is called Pudding and is to be found disguised as Jell-o. Birds custard does exist in the 'British Foods' section but it was, like everything there, prohibitively expensive.
- Jell-o, as we English already know from watching far too much American TV, is what they call Jelly, only it comes in disconcertingly powdered form, rather than the temptingly edible gelatin cubes that I grew up with.
- Lady fingers don't exist but I settled on Vanilla flavoured wafers, which seem comparable but are found with the cookies rather than baking section.
- Jam, as I'm sure everyone knows, is Jelly, which is fine only it lurks in the bakery section, plus by this point I was getting confused with the jelly / jell-o thing anyway.
I was then asked at the check-out if I was paying with food stamps, which either says something about me or the food I was buying, I'm not sure.
Sorry, that was SO un-pc of me. I take it back.
So, armed with my dubious substitutes for trifle ingredients (what would Delia say?) I am going to attempt to wow Americans with my British culinary skills.
I can't say I'm holding out a huge amount of hope.
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