Hi.
Last month, for the first time, I visited America. This was a business trip and it was for three days in a city called Bloomington in Indiana. If someone visited the UK, I'd want to know what they thought. So i'm offloading on GAF for now I'm afraid, since there are a lot of US folks here. Now, three days is not a long enough time to judge a town, let alone a country but I keep getting told that first impressions count, so here they are.
I've been on this board a while and I know there's a precedence to jump the gun on new topics so I'll give those that made it this far a TLWR: I loved it.
Context
I am from the UK, of Brit and Slav origin. I moved to the UK when I was 4. At the start of the year I got a fantastic new job in London and moved to its neighbouring suburb county called Essex. As part of my new job I was afforded the chance to meet the sister teams from my company, guys from New York and Toronto, along with developers stationed in Bloomington, Indiana. People from Canada, New York and London descended on Indiana. And so for three days I would be in Indiana meeting various people from various parts of the States. Now, I am not particularly well traveled. I have been to most countries in Europe, as it's so small, and Cape Town, South Africa and that's about it. As everyone does, I had preconceived notions of America based entirely on media, it would be my plan on this brief voyage to attempt to dispel or reinforce these rumours. After all, I was going to somewhere most tourists wouldn't go on their first trip to America. Despite this, as a first timer I couldn't be happier. The destination was irrelevant. So, on an early morning in April my plane left London Heathrow for a jaunt across the Atlantic with me in it. This is my story.
Charlotte, North Carolina (airport)
There are no direct flights to Indianapolis from Heathrow so I had to fly domestically. The plane set me down in Charlotte, which is a fantastic name, and I had a couple of hours to kill before my connecting flight. I had heard of bad things to do with the customs guards, but after a few questions I was waved through. The passport guy seemed mostly disinterested in me, like I had interrupted whatever else he was doing. All airports I've seen have been roughly the same and this is true of Charlotte, until I got to the main terminal. It was like Mass Effect's Presidium: bright, open, a man played piano as people swayed on rocking chairs in the terminal lounge. A moving sculpture of planes inter-locking circled above our heads. Initial impressions of America were at a high, thank you Charlotte. I exchanged my pound sterling to dollars, which are extra long and thin but they feel better than pound notes. I knew from that moment it was going to take a while to get used to the "quarter dollar" and that I may as well resign myself to having a pocket full of coins. I got a drink cup from Burger King and sat down to people watch: nothing to report here, people are people.
Domestic abuse
The plane that hauled me from Charlotte to Indianapolis was nothing short of a minibus with wings. I've been on small planes before, airbuses and the like, but this was another level. One stewardess, no thrills. Up and down. The transit was efficient and uncomfortable and necessary. Domestic flights within UK are more comfortable than this. Since the US is such a big country, I imagine this is your equivalent to our trains. So much like our trains in fact, that everyone keeps themselves to themselves, or does work, or sleeps. They're not here to have fun or get treated well, they're here to get to where they're supposed to. While the plane that got me over the Atlantic was packed with tourists, foreigner and visitors, this was when being in the US really sunk in. I was in with the everyday. I was a commuter.
Indianapolis, Indiana (airport)
Tiny. It's just a terminal with a Starbucks and a few restaurants. Other than the huge "Airplane" type, bulbous glass wall on one side that overlooks the runway, and that I could imagine the nose of a plane crashing through like the movies, the only other distinguishing feature was John Dillinger's immaculate looking gangster car. A car I had seen on arrival, but wasn't aware of its notoriety until my taxi driver mentioned it. I would have to have a better look at it when I left.
On the road
It takes about an hour to get from Indianapolis airport to Bloomington, which if my geography is right, is due south on what seemed like one long road. The driver was chatty, so I asked him about Indiana and Bloomington in general and he was happy to answer. We talked about the difference in roads (straight and well-planned compared to put-in-where-there's-room), the difference in cars (huge and comfortable compared to small and nippy). He was also happier to talk than he was to listen, so some of the time I switched off and looked out the window. There was something very flat about Indiana, quietly agricultural. Fast-food restaurant followed fast-food restaurant followed drive-thru pharmacy on the roadside. Billboards loomed over the motorway, and giant, house-sized flags billowed outside businesses. Everything was so similar, and equally so different. It was a weird feeling to be somewhere like this, and it would be a feeling that permeated my entire trip. A mild case of culture shock, if nothing else. Some of the crazy stuff, like the drive-thru pharmacies are completely alien to me, the need for one I would never understand. Maybe it's just a name, not an actual drive-thru where you order your medicine through a microphone and pick it up out of a serving hatch. The restaurants on the side of the road are something we'd have in retail parks all within walking distance but here, due to the sprawling land, they were all separated by about a mile. Every restaurant had a different name, but they all looked the same. And finally the flags, well it's ridiculous to have them that size. But still, the UK could serve to be a bit more patriotic.
Bloomington, Indiana
The driver informed me that Bloomington was a student town, which is great. I was a student once so it'd be nice to see a student town in America. I stayed at the Hilton near what I assumed was the main square. First impression: I was in Hill Valley. Any disturbance I had experienced on the journey down was immediately settled when I went for a quick walk after throwing my bags into the room. This was the small-town America I had seen so many times. The diner down the road served pancakes for breakfast, the roads were wide. People walked slowly, almost meandering. All the rage was kept inside cars at rush hour. In the centre some kind of townhall sat surrounded by a green, lined with shops and restaurants. The weather was muggy. Humid. The taxi driver predicted a thunder storm: he was right. Thankfully it didn't hit until my last day. So I walked round the grass square where Marty saved the clocktower, or where Ed Stevens became the bowling alley's lawyer, and back to my hotel. The rest of my time here was spent in board meetings at a technological park just outside the town, so I don't think I saw much of Bloomington either. The only signs of students were the groups in the cafes and bars of an evening, and the drunken ones stumbling up the main road late at night. I don't think I was in the student part, there apparently was one, but what I did see was exactly how I imagined towns like this.
People
Well, everyone was great. And I'm not just saying that. Colleagues, associates, waiting staff, taxi drivers, randoms in the street. I had no problems with anyone. People I met were shocked that I "chose" to come to Indiana for my first time in the USA, but I didn't mind repeating myself to say that was all new, regardless of where I was. Everyone was easy to talk to, and while we are two nations divided by a common language, something that I never understood considering I can speak 4 languages. American to English should have been no problem. The only issues were at the beginning of conversations where each of our minds adjusted to each others' accents. After a few sentences, everything was clear. Slang, or differences in language, never reared their head outside of time where I spent longer than I should have trying find a "rubbish bin" for my gum. After gesturing like I'm speaking another language, it was only when the translation "trash can" fell out of my brain, that the guy realised what I was trying to say. I now understand the saying, the language does divide us.
"Sir"
What's up with this? I understand customer facing staff say this, they do that here too. But in general conversation, in meetings for example, guys are referring to each other as this. It was just strange, made me feel like I was in an army barracks with a bunch of sergeant majors and no authority figures. The point of "sir" to me, is to confirm a hierarchy. Calling everyone "sir" defeats this purpose. The word becomes meaningless. I also wouldn't mind if this military conditioning carried over to how you guys told the time.
Food
From what I saw you have no fair right to lambaste British food. Portions are massive, truly a land of excess. The restaurant food I ate was lovely, but I expect most restaurant food to be like this and it's the same most places. My breakfast pancakes were HUGE. You guys have fast food down to a fine art, but don't mistake quantity for quality. And just because it's served by a waiter, doesn't make it any less fast food. I understand that I saw nothing of the USA, and that putting my experience of food down is like putting my experience of attractive girls down. "Well you didn't go here..." so just take it for what it is I guess, a shallow observation. Like the rest of this stuff.
An American Workplace
Cubicle work is weird, but apparently it's standard in the States. Everywhere I've worked in the UK has been open plan, and although I'm sure there has been plenty of distraction/productivity analysis, it's blatantly a far more efficient, if not exactly communal, way of working.
Fox News
I got to watch some TV due to the time difference (5 hours) and me being awake a lot earlier than I needed to be. Everything I'd heard about Fox News was correct, it's the paranoia channel right? In 5 minutes I'd learned that China and Iran were hacking into innocent American's home networks , that some schools are scrapping pledging to the flag and that Korea was planning to send some nukes your way. Thankfully, this ridiculousness was not reflected by anyone I met. I know in the UK there are plenty of people who regurgitate opinions from our right wing press, but I'm glad I met no-one who held, or was comfortable to communicate, these opinions. The other news channels were slightly better, although the morning banter between hosts is nauseating.
Tipping
I tipped. I tipped in quarters and dollar bills for food and drinks. I rounded up when I was charging my card. Service everywhere was excellent, even though the guy at BK asking where I was headed was a bit too personal and caught me off guard. I tipped the taxi drivers that ferried us from office to town, and I'm glad they kept silent. Big shout out to the room cleaner Lupe, who left me a note every day. They took the rest of my change before I was homeward bound. Not sure if female or male name.
Economies of Scale
Your debit/credit card system infrastructure is awesome. I could pay by card anywhere. It wasn't until I got back to the UK, stopped at a service station and had to use a cashpoint to get money to pay a cashier that I realised just how much I was relying on my card in the US.
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania (airport)
My connecting flight home, and what a crazy dump of an airport. From Charlotte to the ridiculous. The gates are connected by buses that have to traverse runways, next to planes. It had been a long day and I was tired by the time I got here, but still. It was like an airport that had been left to rot into disrepair. I'm glad towns aren't represented by their airports, because there's no way I'd want to visit Philadelphia based on that airport.
Final Thought
America is a hyper version of England. Englanders packed up and moved, and it shows. It's a beautiful country, with lots of friendly, beautiful people. There are some things I don't understand, but, oddly, there is a lot more I do understand. Not sure if that's coming from media or hearsay, or friends who have been but the similarities between people and culture is minuscule with few glaringly obvious gaps that spoil the landscape. Looking forward to going back, but probably going to hit up the South and West for a vacation. See New Orleans or Texas or Mississippi or California, somewhere that may be different. What I saw was England Cubed, but different enough for me to feel like a total foreigner.
Ultimately. Despite all you read. We're not so different, you and I.
Last month, for the first time, I visited America. This was a business trip and it was for three days in a city called Bloomington in Indiana. If someone visited the UK, I'd want to know what they thought. So i'm offloading on GAF for now I'm afraid, since there are a lot of US folks here. Now, three days is not a long enough time to judge a town, let alone a country but I keep getting told that first impressions count, so here they are.
I've been on this board a while and I know there's a precedence to jump the gun on new topics so I'll give those that made it this far a TLWR: I loved it.
Context
I am from the UK, of Brit and Slav origin. I moved to the UK when I was 4. At the start of the year I got a fantastic new job in London and moved to its neighbouring suburb county called Essex. As part of my new job I was afforded the chance to meet the sister teams from my company, guys from New York and Toronto, along with developers stationed in Bloomington, Indiana. People from Canada, New York and London descended on Indiana. And so for three days I would be in Indiana meeting various people from various parts of the States. Now, I am not particularly well traveled. I have been to most countries in Europe, as it's so small, and Cape Town, South Africa and that's about it. As everyone does, I had preconceived notions of America based entirely on media, it would be my plan on this brief voyage to attempt to dispel or reinforce these rumours. After all, I was going to somewhere most tourists wouldn't go on their first trip to America. Despite this, as a first timer I couldn't be happier. The destination was irrelevant. So, on an early morning in April my plane left London Heathrow for a jaunt across the Atlantic with me in it. This is my story.
Charlotte, North Carolina (airport)
There are no direct flights to Indianapolis from Heathrow so I had to fly domestically. The plane set me down in Charlotte, which is a fantastic name, and I had a couple of hours to kill before my connecting flight. I had heard of bad things to do with the customs guards, but after a few questions I was waved through. The passport guy seemed mostly disinterested in me, like I had interrupted whatever else he was doing. All airports I've seen have been roughly the same and this is true of Charlotte, until I got to the main terminal. It was like Mass Effect's Presidium: bright, open, a man played piano as people swayed on rocking chairs in the terminal lounge. A moving sculpture of planes inter-locking circled above our heads. Initial impressions of America were at a high, thank you Charlotte. I exchanged my pound sterling to dollars, which are extra long and thin but they feel better than pound notes. I knew from that moment it was going to take a while to get used to the "quarter dollar" and that I may as well resign myself to having a pocket full of coins. I got a drink cup from Burger King and sat down to people watch: nothing to report here, people are people.
Domestic abuse
The plane that hauled me from Charlotte to Indianapolis was nothing short of a minibus with wings. I've been on small planes before, airbuses and the like, but this was another level. One stewardess, no thrills. Up and down. The transit was efficient and uncomfortable and necessary. Domestic flights within UK are more comfortable than this. Since the US is such a big country, I imagine this is your equivalent to our trains. So much like our trains in fact, that everyone keeps themselves to themselves, or does work, or sleeps. They're not here to have fun or get treated well, they're here to get to where they're supposed to. While the plane that got me over the Atlantic was packed with tourists, foreigner and visitors, this was when being in the US really sunk in. I was in with the everyday. I was a commuter.
Indianapolis, Indiana (airport)
Tiny. It's just a terminal with a Starbucks and a few restaurants. Other than the huge "Airplane" type, bulbous glass wall on one side that overlooks the runway, and that I could imagine the nose of a plane crashing through like the movies, the only other distinguishing feature was John Dillinger's immaculate looking gangster car. A car I had seen on arrival, but wasn't aware of its notoriety until my taxi driver mentioned it. I would have to have a better look at it when I left.
On the road
It takes about an hour to get from Indianapolis airport to Bloomington, which if my geography is right, is due south on what seemed like one long road. The driver was chatty, so I asked him about Indiana and Bloomington in general and he was happy to answer. We talked about the difference in roads (straight and well-planned compared to put-in-where-there's-room), the difference in cars (huge and comfortable compared to small and nippy). He was also happier to talk than he was to listen, so some of the time I switched off and looked out the window. There was something very flat about Indiana, quietly agricultural. Fast-food restaurant followed fast-food restaurant followed drive-thru pharmacy on the roadside. Billboards loomed over the motorway, and giant, house-sized flags billowed outside businesses. Everything was so similar, and equally so different. It was a weird feeling to be somewhere like this, and it would be a feeling that permeated my entire trip. A mild case of culture shock, if nothing else. Some of the crazy stuff, like the drive-thru pharmacies are completely alien to me, the need for one I would never understand. Maybe it's just a name, not an actual drive-thru where you order your medicine through a microphone and pick it up out of a serving hatch. The restaurants on the side of the road are something we'd have in retail parks all within walking distance but here, due to the sprawling land, they were all separated by about a mile. Every restaurant had a different name, but they all looked the same. And finally the flags, well it's ridiculous to have them that size. But still, the UK could serve to be a bit more patriotic.
Bloomington, Indiana
The driver informed me that Bloomington was a student town, which is great. I was a student once so it'd be nice to see a student town in America. I stayed at the Hilton near what I assumed was the main square. First impression: I was in Hill Valley. Any disturbance I had experienced on the journey down was immediately settled when I went for a quick walk after throwing my bags into the room. This was the small-town America I had seen so many times. The diner down the road served pancakes for breakfast, the roads were wide. People walked slowly, almost meandering. All the rage was kept inside cars at rush hour. In the centre some kind of townhall sat surrounded by a green, lined with shops and restaurants. The weather was muggy. Humid. The taxi driver predicted a thunder storm: he was right. Thankfully it didn't hit until my last day. So I walked round the grass square where Marty saved the clocktower, or where Ed Stevens became the bowling alley's lawyer, and back to my hotel. The rest of my time here was spent in board meetings at a technological park just outside the town, so I don't think I saw much of Bloomington either. The only signs of students were the groups in the cafes and bars of an evening, and the drunken ones stumbling up the main road late at night. I don't think I was in the student part, there apparently was one, but what I did see was exactly how I imagined towns like this.
People
Well, everyone was great. And I'm not just saying that. Colleagues, associates, waiting staff, taxi drivers, randoms in the street. I had no problems with anyone. People I met were shocked that I "chose" to come to Indiana for my first time in the USA, but I didn't mind repeating myself to say that was all new, regardless of where I was. Everyone was easy to talk to, and while we are two nations divided by a common language, something that I never understood considering I can speak 4 languages. American to English should have been no problem. The only issues were at the beginning of conversations where each of our minds adjusted to each others' accents. After a few sentences, everything was clear. Slang, or differences in language, never reared their head outside of time where I spent longer than I should have trying find a "rubbish bin" for my gum. After gesturing like I'm speaking another language, it was only when the translation "trash can" fell out of my brain, that the guy realised what I was trying to say. I now understand the saying, the language does divide us.
"Sir"
What's up with this? I understand customer facing staff say this, they do that here too. But in general conversation, in meetings for example, guys are referring to each other as this. It was just strange, made me feel like I was in an army barracks with a bunch of sergeant majors and no authority figures. The point of "sir" to me, is to confirm a hierarchy. Calling everyone "sir" defeats this purpose. The word becomes meaningless. I also wouldn't mind if this military conditioning carried over to how you guys told the time.
Food
From what I saw you have no fair right to lambaste British food. Portions are massive, truly a land of excess. The restaurant food I ate was lovely, but I expect most restaurant food to be like this and it's the same most places. My breakfast pancakes were HUGE. You guys have fast food down to a fine art, but don't mistake quantity for quality. And just because it's served by a waiter, doesn't make it any less fast food. I understand that I saw nothing of the USA, and that putting my experience of food down is like putting my experience of attractive girls down. "Well you didn't go here..." so just take it for what it is I guess, a shallow observation. Like the rest of this stuff.
An American Workplace
Cubicle work is weird, but apparently it's standard in the States. Everywhere I've worked in the UK has been open plan, and although I'm sure there has been plenty of distraction/productivity analysis, it's blatantly a far more efficient, if not exactly communal, way of working.
Fox News
I got to watch some TV due to the time difference (5 hours) and me being awake a lot earlier than I needed to be. Everything I'd heard about Fox News was correct, it's the paranoia channel right? In 5 minutes I'd learned that China and Iran were hacking into innocent American's home networks , that some schools are scrapping pledging to the flag and that Korea was planning to send some nukes your way. Thankfully, this ridiculousness was not reflected by anyone I met. I know in the UK there are plenty of people who regurgitate opinions from our right wing press, but I'm glad I met no-one who held, or was comfortable to communicate, these opinions. The other news channels were slightly better, although the morning banter between hosts is nauseating.
Tipping
I tipped. I tipped in quarters and dollar bills for food and drinks. I rounded up when I was charging my card. Service everywhere was excellent, even though the guy at BK asking where I was headed was a bit too personal and caught me off guard. I tipped the taxi drivers that ferried us from office to town, and I'm glad they kept silent. Big shout out to the room cleaner Lupe, who left me a note every day. They took the rest of my change before I was homeward bound. Not sure if female or male name.
Economies of Scale
Your debit/credit card system infrastructure is awesome. I could pay by card anywhere. It wasn't until I got back to the UK, stopped at a service station and had to use a cashpoint to get money to pay a cashier that I realised just how much I was relying on my card in the US.
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania (airport)
My connecting flight home, and what a crazy dump of an airport. From Charlotte to the ridiculous. The gates are connected by buses that have to traverse runways, next to planes. It had been a long day and I was tired by the time I got here, but still. It was like an airport that had been left to rot into disrepair. I'm glad towns aren't represented by their airports, because there's no way I'd want to visit Philadelphia based on that airport.
Final Thought
America is a hyper version of England. Englanders packed up and moved, and it shows. It's a beautiful country, with lots of friendly, beautiful people. There are some things I don't understand, but, oddly, there is a lot more I do understand. Not sure if that's coming from media or hearsay, or friends who have been but the similarities between people and culture is minuscule with few glaringly obvious gaps that spoil the landscape. Looking forward to going back, but probably going to hit up the South and West for a vacation. See New Orleans or Texas or Mississippi or California, somewhere that may be different. What I saw was England Cubed, but different enough for me to feel like a total foreigner.
Ultimately. Despite all you read. We're not so different, you and I.
