30 & Counting
By the end of this month, it will have been exactly 30 days since I left home.
It has been one of the most exciting and refreshing times I have ever spent as a person, being in a foreign country, receiving top quality education, hanging out with old friends, making new ones and getting to see so much of this beautiful place.
Even being here for the entire 4months would not be enough for me to truly experience and understand English culture. But being here for 30 days has given me a very small taste of what the English are like (and why they cant stop talking about the weather!)
The first day I arrived, the sky was clear blue, the weather was cool, and England looked like the most beautiful foreign land I had ever been in. But then again, England was the only foreign land I have ever been to! “And they say the English weather is bad?” I asked. But 1 month later, all my lecturers can talk about is how we (from Malaysia) have brought the rain with us, because it rained for days on end, there was floods in Sheffield, their football stadium was flooded and same people lost their lives, swept away by the currents overflowing from the nearby river. It was featured all over the news, on BBC and all major newspapers. Luckily, my residence was not affected, and neither was our university.
Other than that, I visited Manchester city not once, but twice; once with a tour to Old Trafford stadium, and the other to meet my girlfriends aunt. I could hardly believe my eyes the moment I stepped into the stadium, and saw beyond me, that famous green pitch surrounded by red seats, and the words “Theatre Of Dreams” written boldly on the stands. I was actually at Old Trafford stadium! I have spent years watching Manchester United play game after game on this 73,000 capacity pitch, and now here I was! We got to visit the VIP lounge, the players dressing room, and they even played a recording of fans cheering as we entered into the pitch area from the tunnel where the players enter the field! I even got to sit where the Manager sits! My only regret was that we were not allowed to touch or step onto the grass. We got to see the treble won in 1999 that earned Alex Ferguson his knighthood, and the chronology of events leading up to that historical triple win in that year. It was truly a memorable and exciting experience for me.
Just as quick as the rain came, the locals were up to their shoulders in water. And just as quick as we came to Sheffield, we too were up to our shoulders, with assignments! Due to the limited time we have here, we are required to do in 3 months what others do in the entire years! So its really just a mad rush of assignments again, but the difference this time is, its in a more beautiful setting!
I can say that after 30 days, we have pretty much settled down to life here. I am now used to shopping at the local supermarket, and fixing my own meals, 3 times a days. Morning would usually just be toast or corn flakes. For lunch, if time permits, it would be spaghetti or burgers depending on what kind of food I have stocked. When we have no time to fix our own lunch, I just munch on a MARS bar, which surprisingly, lasts all the way to dinner. Speaking of which, dinner is always a more formal affair. We share and cook sometimes, and if not, believe it or not, its spaghetti again (or rice). I can safely say that I have never eaten this much spaghetti in such a short period of time before. I ask myself the question “What do this people eat? Is it really just spaghetti, roast meat, bacon, ham, cabbage, broccoli, chili and pork chops all the time?” To be franks, the variety and type of food here just pales in comparison with the kind of food we have back home; something we Malaysians always take for granted. We are so used to having such a wide variety of food, all totally different from each other. Over here, you get to choose what kind of sauce you want to make your meat with, and what kind of cheese you want. I never knew there were so many times of cheese! How do you differentiate them? What difference does it make anyway?
The people here like to walk a lot. Maybe because transportation is expensive, or they like walking under the summer sun. Over in Malaysia, you drive no matter how near. Any attempt to walk to the nearby store would be greeted with “Gila ar? So hot leh…” But over here, a walk seems can seem so inviting at times, especially when the weather is sunny, and the air is cool. The only problem is that even on a sunny day, its cold, and it rains! I brought an umbrella from home, and the first day I used it, it was ruined by the strong winds. You are better of using a rain coat here. It saves you the cost of an umbrella, and for the Asian ladies, you wont get blown away with your umbrella.
The English just love their drink, and specifically their beer. I never knew there was a difference between lager, beer and ale. There is even smoky, bitter or sweet varieties of it. They drink it in the morning, in the afternoon and at night. Every morning, I see this huge poster of an old man, holding a pint of beer saying “Get sat dawn, n’ tek weight off!” which makes absolutely no sense to me, and I am filled with curios amusement. I just got to know what it means before I leave.
The newspapers are another interesting thing. They have the serious paper like The Times, The Independent and other quality papers that are filled with pages and pages of intellectual, political, economical and social stuff that just bores you to death sometimes with its sheer dryness and seriousness. Then there are the trash papers, which show sexy women on the front page, and without fail, a half nude pic of the latest babe on the second page. It’s a cultural thing, having the page 2 nude shot. While in Malaysia, no guy would want to be caught dead buying one of this papers, they sell it openly here. Its filled with racy headlines like “I slept with my best friend husband!” to silly ones like “Man arrested for molesting pigeons.”… ok I made that one up, but you get the picture. The entire paper is filled with hot gossip on who’s sleeping with who, who broke up with who, who’s secretly dating, in love etc etc etc. Again, I found myself curiously amused. Do the British actually read this? On one hand, you have dead serious news talking about the war in Iraq, world trade, FTA’s and the socio-economic repercussions of a rising China. On the other, you have news of last years celebrity wanna be finally going topless for Playboy magazine, or the latest news on how another member of the royal family screwed up big time. Are there 2 distinct class of readers, or does one buy both and read them in order? What’s the page 2 topless shot for? Could it possibly have anything to do with the fact that some people like reading in the toilet? And since you are at it, might as well have a nice nude shot to relieve yourself?
I think that just about enough reflection and pondering for the moment!
For now, I’m just celebrating being here for 30 days!
Hugs in Manchester
I had an interesting conversation the other day.
I had gone down to Manchester city to meet up with my girlfriends aunt, who stays in the UK. They had been the reason I was able to continue my education to this point in life, and it felt every bit my duty to come visit them.
She came with her husband and daughter; they were in town to visit the university there for their daughter's enrolment into university. She and I sat down for lunch together, and I updated her on what was happening back home in Malaysia before I left, mostly concerning her niece and nephew. We also talked a little bit about my mother, and she related to me how her best friend suffered from the same illness, with similar diagnosis. Her best friend was wealthy, but it made very little different to the situation. As she told me all the things she went through, weathering her friends relapses over many years, it sounded uncannily like my own experiences with my mother; during relapses, she would be very mean, selfish and hurtful, but really wonderful when she is well.
We also spoke about my employment with my current boss and the financial sponsorship I gained through her. I thanked her profusely for opening that door for me. In turn, she told me she was rather surprised that my boss (her husband's cousin) was rather fond of me. I was shocked, because it implied that she would have been expecting him not to like me. But never the less, things turned out well. She did tell me it was possible for her to help me find a job here in the UK, but that if she did that, my boss would never forgive her!
Inevitably, when in England, everyone talks about the weather, simply because beautiful sunny days are far and few in between (which I have come to learn first hand). The English like to sit out on the grass on sunny days. They like taking long walks and sitting out in the open eating their lunch. Something unheard of in Malaysia where even going to the nearby store would mean a drive, no matter how short.
I commented on how the stores here seem to close to early (6pm) and seldom open on a Sunday. In he UK, the labour law stipulates that an employee has every right to refuse work if they have worked 48 working hours during the work week. Stores are only allowed to be open for no more than 6 hours on a Sunday. In Malaysia, the weekends are the busiest shopping times, and no retail business in their sane mind would imagine closing. She told me this was also similar in some parts of the US; shops still open on a Sunday. I felt it was a good thing, but she thought otherwise. She said, people start to forget about God. To impose work on a Sunday would mean taking time away from a persons day of rest, and time for them to worship at church (in the western context). I had never thought of it in that way. But it made a lot of sense. In a way, it was almost like a fight between worldly gain (money) and heavenly rewards (devotion).
Truth be told, it felt more like I was talking to someone whom was actually my aunt rather than my girlfriends relative. I feel seriously indebted to this lady whose presence has made an enormous impact on my life, even from the other side of the world. This was easily only our 3rd or 4th meeting in these few years that I have been dating her niece, and yet she treated me with such generosity and kindness; always full of advice, always there to help out. When we were about to part ways, she gave me a hug, and so did her daughter and husband. Now, maybe I'm just a big lumpy softie, but I love hugs. It feels infinitely warm and assuring. I love it when I receive hugs from people. They are just like an English summer day, far and few in between, but when they do come, they feel so warm and nice.
Hours later, I called my girlfriend on the phone and told her how my meeting went. The first thing I said to her was "Your aunt hugged me! And so did your cousin and uncle!" and she smile and laughed over the phone, at my child-like behaviour. It felt like a big deal to me, because when you hug someone, you are engaging physical contact. Skin contact is an intimate thing, and when it happens, it exudes warmth and acceptance of the person you are touching. That's body language, and it's not something to be taken lightly. Its baffling how many people can be totally blind about body language.
The most meaningful conversation I had with her was not exchanged in words, but the exchange of signals through body language. And there's nothing that says "We love and accept you" better that a big warm hug!
Party!
Now, being who I am, you would probably never see me in a nightclub, drinking, dancing and just getting crazy.
But amazingly, that is precisely what happened!
Like I said, there really isn't much to do here in Sheffield, except long walks in the parks, visit to the churches, drinking and partying. That added with the fact that we had free tickets and were in desperate need for some stress busting (due to mounting assignments) meant that before I knew it, I found myself in the middle of the club, dancing (or something like that) and screaming like tomorrow would never come.
Unlike in Malaysia, where the word 'clubbing' would usually have slightly negative connotations, clubbing seems to be a pretty normal thing to do here. I had my initial inhibitions, but I thought "What the heck, you're only young once. If you don't try in now, when?" So there we went, the bunch of us to the club, and when we got there, the dance floor was empty. Many of my fellow uni mates were all too shy to go out and 'shake their thang'. But I guess in the end, there was nothing a little (I mean a lot) of alcohol can't solve. 30 minutes later, the club was packed with people, and drinks were flowing out of the bar, straight into our blood streams. There was a mini 'dance' battle between some guys, which got the crowd worked up.
I didn't dance at first. As a rule of thumb, I never dance. But 3 bottles of vodka cocktail later, that music seems so inviting, and my head started to bob to the music. 1 hour after our arrival, the party was in full swing, and there was just this mindless orgy of dancing, toasting, waving hands and jumping. I told myself, if I couldn't let myself go for even a few hours, just dancing and having fun with my friends, I might as well not come. So I threw the last drops of inhibitions I had just let it out. For 1 and a half hours, we partied like we never partied before (which was true in my case) until I finally had to stop from cramps in my leg. It was from all the jumping around. :-p
Later, my friends would all comment to me that they had never seen me so loose before, and that I was probably drunk. But I was not drunk. I was just high; partly alcohol induced, part self induced. Thinking back on it the morning after, while going through a serious headache, I chuckled at myself, because even I couldnt believe what I did the night before. I thought I would need cajoling to even move my hips, but I ended up being the one pulling friends to dance, and not wanting to go home so soon.
But it was a really fun experience for me, though I have not made up my mind if this is really the kind of thing for me. But one things for sure, I went to sleep tired and half drunk, but I woke up totally stressed free, though with a slight headache.
Cheers!
Of suffering
The advantages of suffering, by Monica Hellwig, a Catholic nun:
1. Suffering, the great equalizer, brings us to a point where we may realize our urgent need for redemption
2. Those who suffer know not only their dependence on god and on healthy people, but also their interdependence with one another.
3. Those who suffer rest their security not on things, which often cannot be enjoyed and may soon be taken away, but rather on people.
4. Those who suffer have no exaggerated sense of their own importance. Suffering humbles the proud.
5. Those who suffer expect little from competition and much from cooperation.
6. Suffering helps us distinguish between necessities and luxuries.
7. Suffering teaches patience, often a kind of dogged patience, born of acknowledged dependence.
8. Suffering teaches the difference between valid fears and exaggerated fears.
9. To suffering people, the gospel sounds like good news and not like a threat or a scolding. It offers hope and comfort.
10. Those who suffer can respond to the call of the gospel with a certain abandonment and uncomplicated totality because they have so little to lose and are ready of anything.
Suffering makes an arrogant person realise that he is not as strong as he thought, that he has weakness. Is it not ironic that it only in admitting weakness that true strength is gained?
Pain and suffering have been my greatest teachers in life. Though I may have grudged it at the time, I would not be what I am today if it were not for the pain and heart ache that I went through in the past. For many years, I view pain and suffering as something that was preventing me from living a happy life, that contentment and happiness meant the absence of any pain and suffering. After a while, I came to the realization that the suffering is a part of life, which only made things worse.
I started asking the same question everybody asks; why are we made to suffer? If God was a loving God, why would he create us and leave us to suffer? Why? Why am I suffering? Sometimes it felt like a punishment for the horrible things I have done in life. Other times, it felt as if God was trying to teach me some sort of lesson in life. But most of the time, it felt completely meaningless.
I read this: Faith means believing in advance something that will only make sense in reverse
And only after all these years, do I understand the value of those sufferings. They made no sense at the time, but now, they seem to make perfect sense. I would almost go as far as to say that because of my sufferings in the past, I am happier in the present and in the future. Not because I think the worst has passed, we can never know that. But simply because learning how to cope with pain, and extract value from it has done so much from me. The realization that there is value in all suffering, just waiting to be found and harness is not only comforting, but empowering. I do not look forward to continued suffering, but I do know that whatever suffering I do encounter in life, as painful as it might be, once I emerge from it, I will emerge a stronger person. What I really mean to say can be summarized in these words:
"..... Not only so, but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom he has given us."
Romans 5:3~5
Guilty as charged?
My instincts tell me that I should not breath a word about my newly acquainted female friend to my girlfriend.
All of my friends who are here with me are convinced that there is something going on between the 2 of us. Its nothing new really, in a course where only 5 of 200 students are male, any attempts to befriend the remaining 5 girls are surely seen to be a sign of interest by the guy. Friends closer to me would see that I have not made a single approach to this girl. I have merely been reciprocating.
And though my intentions are clear, there is little I can do about the general perception people get when they see she and I together. They will and do think there is something going on between the 2 of us, as much as I deny it. It doesn't help that every time we are together, friends just tend to stay away upon seeing us, or that whenever she asks me out, it's just me and no one else. I tried getting my friend to be around when I knew she was coming over, but he refused. saying that he didn't want to be a lamp post; something you don't want to be there, but is there none the less.
I find it hard to explain to anyone else, especially to my girlfriend that there really is nothing going on, in the emotional sense. My friends see that I don't have an interest in her, and that I am... well.. just being horny; which I totally am not by the way. But they do somehow thing that though she has a boyfriend of her own, it doesn't mean she's not interested in shopping around and weighing her options so to speak. I argued that perhaps the reason she befriends me and not other single guys is for that reason itself; other available guys would jump at the chance and want to start a relationship with her, which is not what she is up to. by befriending me, it is unlikely that I would try to start some sort of relationship with her right?
There is also one thing that sorts of throws me off balance. I am not quite sure what it is, but here's an example. Last Saturday, there was a visit to Old Trafford, the home ground of Manchester United (biggest football club in the world). I could not get the tickets on time. She found out, and got it for me through her friend. Furthermore, she bought one for herself, even though she has absolutely no interest in football, and wasn't planning to go in the first place. To quote the text she sent me "If I do go, you would be the reason I am going." Now, I did not invite her to come with me, I was just asking her if she was going.
That is just one of the examples, but that is the general kind of unsaid messages I get. She wanted to go to the bank, and asked if I could accompany her, and so we went, just the 2 of us. So what does this whole thing mean?
So, though my heart is clear, I find it hard to open my mouth and tell my girlfriend about this new friend. Sirens and alarms would go off on her side, she would instantly suspect me (as do my friends) and I will find myself in a difficult position to defend myself. If a case was made against me, I would find it hard to justify going out with her alone, and the constant text messages I get from her, which I invariably reply to. I don't think my girlfriend would be big hearted enough to be able to accept that. Another woman = Threat.
So am I guilty as charged? Have I unwittingly been unfaithful to my relationship, though not in heart, but in action?
Can you cope on your own?
The last I heard, things at home were going on pretty smoothly.
So far, there has not been any relapse in my mothers condition, and according to my brother, he has things well under control.
Since my mother doesn't know how to type e-mails, we have gone through this system whereby she would write out her letter to me, and my brother would type it out and send it to me. I guess, being the typical mom at heart, she
couldnt resist sending me a few recipes that she thought I would be able to cook. I will have to take my brother's and her words for it and assume that things are well for the two of them.
However, some things have happened while I am away. For one, our Prime Minister got married last Saturday, it what was the a
realy shock/surprise to the nation. The following day, there was a 5 hour downpour that flooded our
Dataran Merdeka (where our First Prime Minister declared independence to the nation), the second time in 5 years. It just so happens that the church I attend sits right next
to it. The waters reached 1.5m high. I
IMed with a friend, and they were all
devastated from the descruction caused by the floods. The entire church bookstore was ruined, along with files, computers, a piano and pretty much everything on the first floor. That same friend suffered an asthma attack trying to clear up the mess, and my girlfriend met a small car accident (in the car park) days after I left home.
When I heard all these news, my first reaction was "I should have been home". At least I would have been able to do something about it. But there really is nothing much I can do about except trust that in my absence they would be able to cope.
And as it turns out, everyone is able to cope just fine even without me around.
Its funny when you think about it, becasue when you give someone something to rely on, they seem to become totally dependent on in, and cannot function without it. But take that away, and somehow, some way, that person will cope on their own.
My girlfriend, while I am around, acts like she knows nuts about cars and computers. And everytime something related to it comes out, she just cries "Dear, please help me." and she knows I would come to her rescue. But when I was aways, she met an accident (a small one), and in her proud letter to me, she told me how calm she was in handled the matter, and that she did not panick. She also told me that all of a sudden, she has become Dee IT person to go to whenever there is something wrong with you computer. Compared to her friends, she realised that she actually knows quite a bit about computers now.
I read her letter, beaming with pride and joy. Best part was, she actually credited me for teaching her all those stuff, which in fact I did not. But somehow, I just know that the minute I get back home, she would resume her role, and just let me handle everything for her again. I duno, maybe it has something to do with being a woman, wanting to have a guy she can lean on perhaps?
But I also find myself in almost the same scenario, here in Sheffield. Being new in town, its natural that none of us actually know the directions around town. But I have found (and been told) that I have a rather good sense of direction. I can find my way around a place, provided I have been shown the place once. My friend on the other hand, can't even recognize the streets of KL eventhough he has been there for 4 years. So whenever we walk around town in Sheffield, the question of "which way?" coms flying directly and me, and everyone just shuts off their internal map and follow where I am going. So while I am busy worrying which is the shortest and fastest way to our destination, they are all chatting. Once, I was on the phone, and I let someone else lead, and we ended up lost. But funnily, completely remove me out of the picture, and I found that these guys who supposingly were "bad at directions", managed to find they way home, right in time for dinner.
Either they could smell their way home, or they actually knew how to get home. and all the other times, they were just too lazy to think!
Back to my mom, she did tell me she didnt know how to cope once I was gone. But I am gone now, and I receive a leter from her, saying she is just fine, and now she is even offering me tips on how to cope while I was away.
I guess a lot of times, we tend to underestimate ourselves. Or we rather just depend on someone else when we can.
An unusual situation
I’m not sure what to make of it, but I find myself in a bit of a tricky situation.
It’s not a situation I am used to being in, being the kind of guy that I am. You see, there is this girl……
She is another student from my college back in Malaysia, studying a different course, but at the same school. We have spoken a few times, nothing much, just casual hi and bye. We started getting acquainted when we arrived here in the UK, which is really just over a week ago. We sort of hit it off quite easily, considering we both speak English (which is rare), and eventually we exchanged phone numbers.
Since then, she has been in contact with me almost daily, via text message, sending a word of good morning, or just to tell me what she is up to, and asking what I am up to. She even asked me out to go for a walk into the city centre, to the gardens, just the 2 of us and we stayed up late chatting with each other. Obviously, my sudden surge of solo activities has alarmed my friends, and as expected, they start asking me what is going on over there.
I am having mix feelings over the entire matter. It seems a little inappropriate (to say the least) to go out alone with another woman, when you are seeing someone else. But then again, we didn’t do anything except talk, and get to know each other, nothing more. But then again, I don’t think it is usual for a lady to ask a guy to go walking alone with her at night. Neither is it usual for a lady to send subtle and ambiguous messages that can be read differently, depending on whether you think it a joke or not. Or is it? After all, we are not exactly teenagers anymore, and we have done away with that shyness between the sexes a long time ago. If I wanted to know a lady a little better, I would ask her out, even if its alone. It doesn’t necessarily mean I am interested in her. And not every single flirting gesture has to mean something right? People flirt all the time, and when a woman does light flirting (whether face to face or through text), it doesn’t always mean she is interest, does it? Can I say the same for my current situation?
Its easy to tell when a woman is not interested in you, but with this girl, I am not even sure what her intentions are. She has a boyfriend of her own back home, and she is well aware that I am in a relationship myself. So what is going on? Why does it seem like she continues to send me signals of interest? When we were chatting, she did mention to me that “You are quite attractive.”, which really threw me off balance. As I mentioned, a guy like me almost never get complements like that, simply because we don’t find ourselves attractive, and usually, neither do most girls. But I was flattered none the less. It felt good being considered and called an attractive person by the opposite sex. And maybe that is partially why I continue to respond to her daily conversations, plus I don’t want to come across as being rude. Its always makes you feel good knowing that someone finds you appealing.
However, my feelings regarding the matter are clear. I am flattered that she thinks am an eligible, and I do not mind continuing this developing friendship, but that is just about as far as it would go; friends. I have no romantic feelings for her. I am neither looking for a new partner, nor unhappy in my current relationship. It would take something (or someone) really special to change my mind, because as it is, I am already with someone very special.
Which brings me back to my earlier statement; what are her intentions? If she is just interested in making friends and all that, its fine. But my friend seems to think otherwise. He casts doubts over intentions, and wonders why she would continue to pursue her interest in me despite the both of us already in separate relationships. Thus, our budding friendship isn’t exactly popular among my buddies, though they don’t outright stop me. I know they aren’t the type to call home and inform my girlfriend, but I suspect if word got home that I went on a stroll with another woman, I’d be in really hot soup, never mind if it meant anything or not. Its like an invisible code of conduct in relationships that you shouldn’t go out alone with the opposite sex if its not your partner, and if you do, you better be sure as hell she doesn’t find out.
Oh dear….. I’m in a fix.
Sheffield
If there is one thing truly impressive about England, and the rest of Europe, are its churches. I took this picture of a cathedral, which is a 5 minute walk from our hostel. While in Malaysia, churches come in the form of modern buildings, corner houses, and sometimes shop houses, churches seem to be the main landmark of their town here in England. There are at least 4 very impressive looking Cathedral here in Sheffield, all of which are over 200 years old.
And while my friends were all busy snapping photos of themselves around the vicinity, I found myself drawn most the church building itself, and its surroundings. i took as many photographs of it as I could, and I liked this one the best.
2 things really intrigued me. One was the floor pavement. Instead of just regular pavements, the floor was covered with stone tablets, each with rows of list of people from the past who had died. I am not sure who these people were, or why their name was on the tablets, and neither did it mention who these people were; only that so and so had lived from when to when and left behind 3 children and a wife. All the names dated back to the 19th century. Perhaps these people made some sort of contribution to the church, or they were wealthy benefactors of the church?
The second was on the church building itself. Now, churches would normally be associated with God and all things beautiful. It would only make sense that a temple of God was decorated with statues of Angels and such. But that is not the case. Instead, all over the church building, the walls are surrounded by carvings of strange, eerie looking faces. Some take the form of a human, others look like a dog, or bear and a few look like some sort of Fuji-Mermaid or freak of nature. Its feels very bizarre, because these don't seem like the kind of thing you would want to put on a church! What did they have in mind? Were they trying to scare away someone or something? Was it some sort of reminder? I have tried looking it up and reading about it, but I haven't found a satisfactory answer yet.
Every time I walk home from University, I pass by that church, and my mind always wonders why it was built the way it was, and I just know that there is so much history to it, as with so much of the rest of Europe. It's ironic because this is supposed to be a first world country, and yet when I am here, I get a feel more of its history than its technology. I feel like I am stepping back into time, into an ancient place, rather than into a city filled with cutting end technology. Development is slow and almost non existent, and that is to be developed has been developed. Shops all close at 6pm, half days on Saturday and never on a Sunday. The place is just generally slower paced. It takes getting used to because back home, everything is abuzz, there are new areas rising all the time, shops are busiest on Sundays, and no major store would dream of closing earlier than 11pm on a Saturday night. I read it someone, and I now find it only too true. In the past, Asia used to be associated with rural mystic and culture dating back centuries. It was the world where Western led development had yet to reach, where modernization was still in its baby footsteps. But come to any major town in Asia today and you will see Skyscrappers, McDonalds, Star Bucks, Seven Elevens, designer boutiques, TGI Fridays and many other modern facilities. Asia has now become the New World.
In support of my case, consider this: There is not a single 7 eleven in Sheffield. (at least none that I have found).
Fake accents
I find it annoying that some people can’t tell the difference between a slang and an accent. I hate it even more when people put on a fake accent and call it a slang.
For some reason, some people feel the need to start speaking in a (fake) foreign accent once they study abroad. Its nothing new; a friend goes abroad, lets say to Australia for a year, and comes home speaking English all funny and strange, in what is supposed to be a ‘foreign’ accent.
In my stay here, we were guided by seniors from Malaysia who have been in the university, some a year, others more. I really can’t stand the fact that even among just us Malaysians, they continue using their newly acquire ‘foreign’ accents which is obviously fake. Stop it. You aren’t kidding anybody. You spend 20 years of your life back in Malaysia, and 1 year of being in England and you now have a Yorkshire accent? My friend and I chuckle and make fun, because on top of their plastic imitations of the local accent, their grammar is totally out too.
In the end, what you get is a strange blend of a poor grammar spoken with an even poorer imitation of Yorkshire English, which can be totally hilarious or positively irritating, depending on how you want to look at it.
You shouldn’t try to pretend to be what you are not. Maybe some of the people never started speaking English until they came here; hence the only kind of English they picked up was a Yorkshire one. But it seems a little far fetched. Even in Malaysia, you are bound to use some English here and there. Maybe they think they should start speaking like the British, seeing how English does originate from there. But don’t they realize that even the British don’t speak proper English, save perhaps the Queen? However, to a certain extent, I do find their accent a bit charming, even if its hard to understand.
Personally, I find my own speech pattern changing according to who I am speaking to. In my 2 months working before this, I spoke a lot to my Indian colleague, and before I realized it, my girlfriend was asking me “why are you speaking with an Indian accent?” which was really embarrassing to say the least. On the other hand, when I speak to my friend, not so fluent in English, I speak a brand of watered down English full of grammatical errors which I would normally find horrendous.
Still, I like to believe that I do not ‘put on an accent’ to try and impress the people around me. The Brits will speak the way they do, the Americans will speak the way they do, why should I try to speak in any other way then the way I do now?
As they say, when it Rome, do as the Romans do. So at some point in time, I intent to try out sitting down in the local pub, have a pint of ale and talk about the weather. (I’m guessing that’s all the people do here!).
Usually, a simple ‘bye’ would suffice, the people here part by saying
“Cheers! See ya l’ter luv.”
Hello From Sheffield
After 14 hours of flying, 3 hours of transit and another 2 hours on the bus, I finally arrived at Sheffield on a beautiful Friday afternoon. I was excited, but at the same time completely exhausted. My body was aching for some rest. I looked at my watch; 10p.m. Malaysian time. It had been more than 24 hours since I last had a proper nights sleep, but here in England, it was only 3 p.m. But my mind refused to rest, and as hard as I tried catch some sleep on the bus, my eyes were kept glued to the landscape before me. It was truly like something out of a postcard. Wide green pastures, sheeps, horses and cows grazing by the meadows were a feast to the eye as we passed through a long and winding road, aptly named Snakes Pass.
I must say, the English country side is truly a beautiful sight to behold. I searched my mind for one word to describe all that I saw before me, and in a nutshell, the place was charming. Century old buildings, with that signature old style architecture with a backdrop of hilly grasslands, stretching as far as the eye can see; you don’t get that in Malaysia. Immediately, I missed the people at home. As much fun as I was having, enjoying the sights, I couldn’t help but feel sad knowing that I could not share this moment with them. And perhaps in a bit of culture shock, I wasn’t quite used to seeing so many Englishmen around. Back home, you would see one or two Caucasian tourist here and there, but here, I was the visitor. I was fascinated because for the first time in my life, I was seeing the white man in his natural habitat, not as a tourist.
And just like what everyone told me, the weather was chilly and unpredictable. I always wondered why some of the visiting lecturers from the UK would sweat profusely when they came to Malaysia, now I know why. Even on a hot summer day, the temperature was only about 25 degrees Celsius! That’s cold to us, where an average afternoon would be around 35 degrees. That was why the locals went around wearing shorts and spaghetti straps while we Asians were fully covered head to toe, trying to keep warm.
So far, the thing that impressed me most is the churches, dating back to the 17th century. I had a good time admiring the history and architecture of the local churches in town, appreciating its heritage, beauty and mystic; for some reason, the church walls are adorned by rather scary looking faces of people and creatures.
The landscape is enchanting, the buildings have an old world charm to it, and the weather is rather cool and comfortable. But any sort of delusion of perfect ness and came crashing down by the second day of my stay. For all its post card potential, many of the buildings in the city were blemished by graffiti, streets were full of litter and there were many abandoned buildings, with broken windows and doors. It wasn’t exactly the spic and span town you would expect and the people aren’t too friendly either. On the second day, as we were taking a stroll around the neighbourhood, we saw real life punks, a man pissing right by the street, 2 children braking windows of abandoned buildings with their soccer ball, and lastly, my friends and I were subject to some sort of verbal abuse by this bunch of youngsters passing by in the car.
We were just minding our own business, taking a stroll, the car on the opposite side of the road slowed down, and a man in the back window shouted out something to us, repeatedly. We couldn’t quite make out what he was saying, but from the way it was, I was pretty sure he wasn’t saying “Welcome to Sheffield lad!” The words ‘racial abuse’ was ringing in my head for the rest of the day. We have racial problems back home too. But we are kind about it, and never do we start throwing verbal abuses to the man on the street just because he is of a different skin colour. It has never happened to me before, and it would never happen back home. That seriously spoilt it for me, and it killed of whatever impression I had that these people were serious about welcoming people other than their own kind. I’m sorry but hey, I didn’t pay through my nose, travel half way around the world to be called names and racially abused.
But here I am, and I’m not about to turn home just because some punk and his friends enjoy antagonizing visitors to their (not so) lovely town. To be fair, I strongly doubt everyone here is like that, and what i experienced was something seldom. So here it goes, I’ll be staying for 3 months in my newly adopted home, and as determined as I am to make the most of it here, I just can’t wait to get home again.
