Postcards from across The Pond

Written on June 13, 2009 by smittenbybritainComment

You know a book is promising when you find yourself laughing out loud just at the author’s bio page. You hope the book will deliver on that promise and in the case of Postcards from across The Pond, it does. In 2001, Mike Harling hopped on a plane and embarked on what he thought would be an enjoyable, yet run of the mill type of trip to Ireland, including the usual touristy things like castles, a pint of Guinness and kissing the Blarney Stone. Instead he found himself kissing a British girl and his life changed forever. I know what you’re thinking: sounds like that scene from “P.S. I Love You” , except Mike will readily admit he’s not Hillary Swank and begrudgingly confess -as charming as he is- that he’s no Gerard Butler either. (Sorry Mike.)

Six months after Mike met his Irish girl, he found himself changing marital status, changing jobs and changing countries. And so his book begins and in fact, nearly writes itself, as Mike begins to blog his experiences for anyone willing to read it. The blog helped Mike stayed connected to family and friends while telling tales of every day life in Britain. Eventually he had enough material that the most logical step was to put it all together in one place for the book loving public to read and enjoy. I’m glad he did because unlike some of the more recent books I’ve read, which are very informative about British culture, Postcards from across The Pond is a diary of an American acclimating to the challenges of every day life in Britain. We see Britain thru his eyes and for those of us who have been there and can relate, we laugh right along with Mike’s Excellent British Adventure.

One of my favourite chapters from Postcards includes Mike’s thoughts on his experience at the Home Office, trying to secure a Visa – something I experienced in reverse with the American INS in London. Of course, you can’t be an American and fail to miss one of the most obvious differences between life in Britain and America- the loo. Two taps and a trip to the A & E for some. No wonder Britain has the lowest success rate for Americans moving abroad, considering the welcome they get. And then there is the British version of washing up, which to the horror of Americans, does not include a proper rinse. I have a particular fondness for the chapter on Scotland and Gretna Green, Britain’s answer to the drive-thru weddings of Vegas.

Having been married to a Scot myself, I got a side splitting chuckle out of the following passage:

“My wife is half Scottish. This doesn’t afflict her in any obvious ways except that she is familiar with obscure cultural references, such as First-Footing and Glasgow kiss, and has a keen discrimiation of highland single malts (her greatest compliment: “I could drink this”). As soon as we cross the border into Scotland, however, she gets in touch with her inner Celt; words like “wee” and “aye” begin slipping into her vocabulary and she starts pronouncing Loch as if she is trying to dislodge a herring bone from the back of her throat.

She denies it, but I catch her out from time to time. And I don’t really find it surprising; after 48 hours below the Mason-Dixon line I begin to develop a drawl for no apparent reason. Besides, if I found myself in a place as tacky as Gretna Green, I would do my best to distance myself from the tourists, as well.”

In other chapters, Mike ponders the use of toast racks, the Briton’s need to say “sorry” even when it’s of no fault of their own and their near obsessive preoccupation with the weather. However, I was unhappy to read the chapter on the Americanization of England, not because there was anything wrong with Mike’s writing but the subject doesn’t sit well with me. I know change in life is inevitable but that doesn’t mean it’s all good or we have to like it. To quote Mike, “I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with America- it’s a fine country- but it’s American. The thing I like best about Britain, is it’s British“. I’m with Mike here and I blame McDonald’s, Wal-Mart and Starbucks. Of course, none of this would have happened without the consent of most Britons, but I think there should be a national movement to bring back the teashop and drop the coffee bars. Oh yeah, and let’s not forget the humble plain scone, which is nearly extinct thanks to the highfalutin strawberry danish.

Now, back to the book. I’ll finish by sharing with you a very, let’s say, personal passage from Postcards from across The Pond, one many of you will no doubt find hilarious and for a few of you unfortunately, all too familiar. Either way, it’s a perfect example of the writing that makes Mike’s book a pleasure to read.

“It’s over, and really, it wasn’t that big a deal. They didn’t even offer me the sedative they had promised. I was sorely disappointed about that because I wanted to turn it down so I could feel like Braveheart when he spat out the potion that would make him numb during his death by disembowelment party. Yeah, we’re hard over here, Sparky.

As it was, they distracted me by letting me watch it on the telly. There’s nothing like a live action, full-color motion picture safari through your lower intestine to make you forget about the camera and several feet of fiber optic cabling being shoved up your butt. And the best thing is, I can now truthfully confirm that my head isn’t up there, which will prove handy next time that particular suggustion comes my way. And if you really care to see what it looks like up there, here you go:“

-Mike Harling, Postcards from across The Pond

Be sure to stop by tomorrow and read my interview with Mike Harling. On Monday, I’ll be featuring a contest to win Postcards from across The Pond, plus a special surprise. You’ll need some clues to enter so check in both days.