Surprise! I’m still on holiday and we have one more surprise special, late entry guest post for today. I am honoured to welcome Camille from Archives of our Lives. I have been following Camille’s blog for a while and am totally hooked. You should definitely go over and check it out. Anyway, here’s Camille (normal blogging will resume when I decide to come back to reality)
When My Parents Told Me I Could be Anything, I Decided I’d Like to be British..
Hi! My name is Camille. I write regularly over at Archives of Our Lives, and I’ll be running amok {though some would call it “guest posting”} here at Dreaming of the Country today. I am both flattered and terrified to write on this blog—flattered, because I have a deep respect for Rachel and most everything British; terrified, because I worry that I’ll come off as just another bumbling American idiot who eats too many hamburgers and has no respect for cross-cultural boundaries. {In my defense, while I am a bumbling idiot, I nevertheless do try to respect my boundaries. God save the queen! [Wait---was that disrespectful? See what I mean? I never know...]}
It’s true, though: I am fascinated with England, Ireland, Scotland, and Wales. I’ve been to England twice, Scotland once, and dream of the day I can see Ireland and Wales. When I was a little girl {or should I say, “wee lass”}, my favourite movies were “Secret Garden” and “A Little Princess.” Later, I became obsessed with Pride and Prejudice, and everything else Jane Austen wrote. My fondest desire in life was to be sent away to England for boarding school. [This was very disappointing to my parents, who tried to make me feel guilty about my dream: "Don't you want to live at home with your family? Wouldn't you miss us? What about Christmas---wouldn't you be sad to live in England over Christmas? You wouldn't get your presents!" I was not to be deterred, though---I knew my calling in life was to be British. It was all I really wanted. {I suppose I've never been very sentimental.}]
The summer after I graduated from high school, I was at last able to take a trip to the Motherland.
I was in heaven.
(Here’s a snapshot of my scrapbook, which I completed fervently upon returning home from my holiday. I’m nothing if not passionate about my travels.)
I spent three solid weeks there, trekking o’er hill and dale to see every sight I could. I tried to see it all—London, Bath, the Lake District; Stonehenge, Pemberly, and castles galore. I made notes of quirky British phrases, like “wheelie bins” {garbage cans}, “wee tinkle” {quick phone call}, and “I take exception to that” {that offends me}. I packed way too much, of course—but it was my first international trip, and I had no idea what to expect. I prepared for everything…
…everything except a broken camera. I spent three weeks taking hundreds of photographs that never saw the light of day. (This was before digital cameras were as popular, mind you; I wasted at least ten rolls of film, with very little to show for it.) When I got home and developed the film, I was crushed. Each and every photo had a giant black blob right in the middle of it. Can you imagine? It was a trip of a lifetime, and I had only ten or so salvageable pictures to remember it? Pathetic.
Luckily for me, I have been a writing aficionado from a very young age. At the end of each day of my trip, I spent hours documenting the day’s events in my journal. I jotted down every pound and pence I spent and what I spent it on; I wrote down names of cities, towns, and villages to remember; and by the time I got to London (the last leg of my trip), I started writing down things I’d learned while “living” in England.
My faithful journal keeping was the only thing that saved the memories of my first trip across the Atlantic; I’ll be forever grateful for paying myself such an enormous favour.
Here are a few of my life lessons, from the eyes of a 17 year-old girl:
Day 1: The farther you get from London, the nicer the locals are.
Day 2: Don’t spend too much money in one place—it’s depressing later.
Day 5: BLACK PUDDING IS MADE OF DRIED PIGS’ BLOOD!!! But it actually tastes pretty good.
Day 7: When travelling, one should always pack as lightly as one can. Seriously.
Day 9: I can make friends with people if I really have to.
Day 12: Buying food at international grocery stores is addictive. [Marks and Spencers, anyone?]
Day 15: The British Lord Nelson defeated the French once and for all in 1805 at the Battle of Trafalgar [why I cared to remember this, I'll never know...].
Day 16: I can miss my family and still be independent.
The trip taught me a lot about life, people, and—most unexpectedly—myself. I firmly believe that traveling is the best education a girl can give herself—far better than any college degree. There are just some things that can only be learned from life experiences…
…college never taught me to double-check my camera before a three-week vacation. May you never have to learn that lesson the way I did.
As simple as that (No, he doesn’t stink!! He’s not a skunk!)
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