And of course, the language I have not fully adapted to yet. 2 quid means 2 bucks, cooker means oven, and hob means stove, but the one I've been most fooled by is, "Are you okay?" As I was brushing my teeth yesterday, my flatmate waved in my room asking if I was okay, and my initial response was, "Yea, why?" thinking, do I not look okay? I quickly realized she was asking how I was doing. Oops.
Although I stand out, I've actually rather enjoyed being the odd one—the one who says "Spring break" instead of "Easter vacation" and the one whose accent is apparently the greatest thing. Yesterday, classes started and I was amused by the looks of awe as people realized I wasn't British, and I was especially amused as I sat in an American lit lecture listening to the tutor (professor) rant about how "America is a huge, huge, huuuuuuuge country! It takes the same amount of time to get to a restaurant as it takes to get to London! It's amazing, really, compared to this little island!" she said. I felt strangely proud of my country for the first time since I arrived, and I remembered that I will always be a foreigner on this little island, never a local—and that's how I want it, to be apart of two cultures, not just one.