Cultural Exchange
I asked to be dropped off at a coffee shop or pub to wait for my hostess while she went to her appointment. It was a dreary, rainy afternoon and the thought of a cup of hot tea or a beer and a nosh would help pass the time. I walked into The Bell in Whitchurch, only to be greeted by 12 smiling middle-late aged White men. “Well, hello.” A quick scan of the room confirmed that the bartender was a snow-haired woman, and my Spidey senses weren’t tingling, so it felt like an opportunity to rub elbows with the natives.
I’m doing WorkAway so that I can meet the local, learn their language and something about their culture. It was obvious that these guys were mates, from who knows how far back! Ever the intrepid explorer, I decided to wade right into this new environment. One of the quickest ways to put people at ease is to ask them about what interests them. I asked the barrel chested bloke leaning against the bar which brew he recommended. After paying 4 pounds for a pint, I sat down at the table nearest the door and pulled out my notebook guided by David Sedaris, the satirist, who always carries one to jot down ideas for stories. A Metallica song was playing so I sang along as I scribbled ‘sitting in The Bell pub” down and waited for something noteworthy to inspire me.
It wasn’t long before they started asking me about myself. “Walking, are you?” England is crisscrossed with paths that folks stroll at all times of the year. I answered that my friend was picking me up ANY MINUTE NOW, and explained my trip. I had them rolling when I told them about my prenuptial agreement to “leave” Valentin at some time. We talked about US politics, the current state of employment in the UK, attitudes toward immigration, rock music and Miles Davis. They gave me tips on where to go while in the UK— Lulworth Cove, Cornwall beaches, Brick Lane in the East End for curries and the Jack the Ripper tour. I finally acquiesced and let one of them buy me a pint, and sipped it slowly. (And yes, I watched the bartender pour it and kept it in my hands so I wouldn’t get rufied.) They were funny and kept telling me that I was a “brave girl” and that my husband was a special man to support me in living this dream. Yep. Yep. both of those.
Soon enough, Kathryn called me to check in. The tall bloke, originally from California, made drinking motions at me and I said “hey, this young man wants to buy you a beer.” In she came with beautiful Nyx, her black lab. We stood around chatting with the fellas until we needed to get going. I gave them my blog address so they can follow my adventures. Upon seeing the group photo I posted on IG, my friend commented “This pic looks like the holiday party for Hogwarts. The dress code is Street Casual.” Wow! How cool is that?! The place did have the air of a much visited, well loved somewhat magical establishment, although I doubt if they have Butterbeer on tap.
K has an appointment in the same little town Monday, so I’ll be at The Bell at noon. See ya then, guys.
