Divided by a Common Language: February 2008 Archives

Yesterday's conversations, as you can imagine, were all about the earthquake. "Did you feel it? Were you scared? What did you think it was, at first? Did anything fall off the shelf in your house?" and etc.

The most surreal part of the day for me, though, (excepting those very terrifying few moments at 1 a.m.) was when I was sharing with a group of friends that I was convinced it was a tornado. I received a few nods but nobody said anything and, as I continued with my story, Jennie interrupted me with a question.

"What is a tornado, exactly? Is it like a hurricane? What's the difference?"

Tonight I was listening in as a husband and wife scheduled dates in their diaries (calendars) and when an event was proposed on March 2, the wife said, "That's Mothering Sunday. I never schedule anything then."

"What," I inquired, "is Mothering Sunday?"

"It's like our version of Mother's Day," I was told.

In fact, that's not quite true. According to the BBC, Mothering Sunday originally marked the day in Lent when Christians returned to their home or "mother" church for a special service. However, it then became associated with family reunions and today, Brits use it as occasion to celebrate their mums, just as Americans do.

I guess I'll be calling home on Mothering Sunday!

The other day I was chatting with my English friends and mentioned how I'd visited the pool at a leisure center with some of them. Suddenly, a chorus of voices broke out:

"A what center?" they asked. I sighed. I knew what was coming.

"A leisure center," I said, pronouncing it to rhyme with "seizure."

"Steph, it's a leisure center," they said, pronouncing it to rhyme with "measure."

"Hey, be glad I say lee-sure" I said, defensively. "If I were from rural America, I might say lay-sure."

The room erupted in laughter.

Amber. That's what he said. Amber.

Today my pal Dave asked me to describe my week, using the colors of a traffic light.

"For example, if you had a terrible week, it'd be red," he said. "If it was great, it'd be green. If it was so-so, it'd be amber. Mine's amber."

Suddenly it all clicked into place.

"Oh, you mean yellow?" I said.

"Yellow!" Dave was aghast. "Traffic lights aren't yellow. They're clearly an ambery, orangey type of color."