Week 9 Impressions by Steph Schwartz

Since entering college, when people ask me where I live, I've developed the habit of replying (mostly in jest) by saying “nowhere.” I started replying this way mostly out of ease, especially since arriving in London. Does anyone really care that I was born in Minnesota (it's in the middle of the US, farthest north besides Alaska) but go to school in Oregon (it's right above California) and am now living in South Kensington (I know, I know, but I'd never live there if it were coming out of my own pocket!)? Not really, is my guess. But lately I've been thinking about it – do I (and perhaps many of us on this program can identify with this feeling) really live anywhere? The reason I've brought this issue up to begin with is that, no matter how comfortable I feel being in London, the people who live here seem to always see me as a tourist and a visitor. This begs the question: how long does one have to live somewhere in order to live there? If I lived in London for the rest of my life, would my mid-western accent forever brand me as a tourist?

Back up to spring break two weeks ago. Myself, Ian and Caitlyn spent three days in Venice and three in Rome. In Italy, we were tourists. In fact, almost everyone in Italy were tourists. As soon as we stepped foot within a mile radius of the Vatican we were bombarded by people shoving pamphlets in our faces, trying to get us to take this tour or that one. We were charged for extra items on our bills at restaurants because the owners knew we didn't understand what was going on. I told myself that this was just what was to be expected as an American traveling in Italy. Sure we paid a bit more and were hassled quite a bit, but it was well worth the experience, right? Since returning to London after spring break, I'm beginning to see that the way I'm often perceived here to Londoners is not extremely different from how I was perceived by the Italians in Italy. I stubbornly tell myself I've lived here for 2.5 months, dang-it! I'm no tourist! The rest of the city does not see it my way.

By some miracle I do not understand, every guy standing outside of a currency exchange manages to shove a flier in my face, but not in the faces of the Brits around me. How do they know? I didn't even open my mouth! Is it something having to do with eye contact?! I'm completely clueless. It's small things like this that make me feel like I'm some sort of American spy or something, doing a horrible job of blending in and “playing it cool.” Another example – I've been working at my internship for around six weeks now. We all have. In the building I work at there is a coffee shop with only 2 regular employees. I go to this coffee shop all the time and the employees say hi to me and recognize me every time. That being said, I NEVER get the employee discount. I have been given the 15% discount exactly once the whole time I've been working there! I take this quite seriously. What exactly do they think I'm doing there 3 days a week? They know I work there, they've seen me with my coworkers! No one else has to ask for their employee discount so I certainly shouldn't have to! Once again I feel like a fake employee. Sure, I work here, but since I sound funny I probably don't actually work here. Even today, while I was at a Tesco doing what I normally do (harassing people to stop smoking) I found that a large percentage of the people I talked to were more interested in asking me where I was from and telling me about their trips to New York than they were in quitting their deadly habit.

Despite all my whinings, I do feel like I'm doing a much better job blending in now than I was two months ago. My coworkers say my English accent is fit for tea with the Queen! (I think this means it's Hollywood-esk and fake, but I won't complain). Maybe by the time we go back I'll be English enough to fit in here. I'm guessing I'll be so authentic at that point that everyone in Portland will ask me; “where are you from? I went to London once...”