Wednesday, May 26, 2004
Where do I belong?
Someone once asked me if there was a lot of farming in the UK. As I stared out of the airplane window at the patchwork of fields, all different colours, I smiled at the obvious.
As I was taking the train from Manchester airport later today, I gazed out at the pure green landscape I fall in love with every time I come here. Even when I pass some of the poorer suburbs, I realize that England has this ancient beauty that you can't find anywhere else. I can't decide which is the case: America could be my spouse. Something I love and spend most of my time with and occasionally sneak away from to have a love affair with England once a year. Or England could be the spouse I abandoned for America, and every now and then I feel drawn back to the roots of my relationship.
One of Isaac Asimov's characters once claimed that every planet has a different smell. I believe that this is also true for countries. You can stare out a window and look here and there and note that you probably aren't in the US, but once you get a whiff of that brisk Manchester air, you know where you are.
What saddens me the most is that I can't share this with anyone. I want to drag someone along, make them see the sights. Make them smell the smells and taste the food. I want the show them the house that is now in my name, 62 Minster Moorgate, in Beverley. I want to point out that we live across the street from a funeral parlour, and that you can see the sign for 'St. Matthew's Court,' and can also see the towering Minster just down the street.
I can't have this to myself anymore. I've seen it all. I love it, but I always feel this urge to return to the US. I know that someday I'll live here. I don't know for how long, but I'd like it to be with someone who would be seeing this as a new experience.
Other notes:
I think commercialization was only truly successful in the US. When something new comes along, we build an ugly building and put a sign on it, and it stays there. In the UK, and much of Europe, they've tried to make do with the buildings they had, so you see these brilliant looking buildings with all sorts of crappy advertisements (note that Starbucks has invaded Manchester).
The women in England are no more beautiful than they are in America, but I think they certainly are sexier. I really hate the typical Clemson style, especially the way the girls dress and act now a days, so it is refreshing to see so many un-tanned women, walking around being generally sexy. It's hard to explain, it's just the way they act (it's probably maturity, 16 is the age of consent in England, as well as the time you choose either to enter real life or go on a college or technical track).
I'll post again tomorrow, to tell you about the wonderful modern-minimilist dance production Dad and I saw tonight, which involved everything from dancing on chairs to partial nudity!
Cheers everyone.
As I was taking the train from Manchester airport later today, I gazed out at the pure green landscape I fall in love with every time I come here. Even when I pass some of the poorer suburbs, I realize that England has this ancient beauty that you can't find anywhere else. I can't decide which is the case: America could be my spouse. Something I love and spend most of my time with and occasionally sneak away from to have a love affair with England once a year. Or England could be the spouse I abandoned for America, and every now and then I feel drawn back to the roots of my relationship.
One of Isaac Asimov's characters once claimed that every planet has a different smell. I believe that this is also true for countries. You can stare out a window and look here and there and note that you probably aren't in the US, but once you get a whiff of that brisk Manchester air, you know where you are.
What saddens me the most is that I can't share this with anyone. I want to drag someone along, make them see the sights. Make them smell the smells and taste the food. I want the show them the house that is now in my name, 62 Minster Moorgate, in Beverley. I want to point out that we live across the street from a funeral parlour, and that you can see the sign for 'St. Matthew's Court,' and can also see the towering Minster just down the street.
I can't have this to myself anymore. I've seen it all. I love it, but I always feel this urge to return to the US. I know that someday I'll live here. I don't know for how long, but I'd like it to be with someone who would be seeing this as a new experience.
Other notes:
I think commercialization was only truly successful in the US. When something new comes along, we build an ugly building and put a sign on it, and it stays there. In the UK, and much of Europe, they've tried to make do with the buildings they had, so you see these brilliant looking buildings with all sorts of crappy advertisements (note that Starbucks has invaded Manchester).
The women in England are no more beautiful than they are in America, but I think they certainly are sexier. I really hate the typical Clemson style, especially the way the girls dress and act now a days, so it is refreshing to see so many un-tanned women, walking around being generally sexy. It's hard to explain, it's just the way they act (it's probably maturity, 16 is the age of consent in England, as well as the time you choose either to enter real life or go on a college or technical track).
I'll post again tomorrow, to tell you about the wonderful modern-minimilist dance production Dad and I saw tonight, which involved everything from dancing on chairs to partial nudity!
Cheers everyone.
