Do you want to go Shag?

Do you want to go Shag?

Culture Shock and Other Stories

The other night... well, about a week ago or so, we were at a party at the Lexis'. The five of us Brits were looking very much like the stereotypical English/Scottish we are as we bobbed from side to side to the music playing, sipping at our drinks and making small talk with strangers who gushed about our wonderful accents. It was during one of these conversations when this rather charming young man from Wilmington turned to me, asking me whether I'd like to go shag. 

My mind flew to the gutter and I rather embarressingly stuttered out, "Er... umm... no."

He looked rather crest-fallen but my face must have been horror-stricken. I'd only known him about ten minutes at this point.

"You don't like to dance then?"

HUH? My mind is rapidly rushing out of the gutter now, "What?" I asked a little more eloquently but still utterly confusedly.

"Or... wait... do you shag in Britain?"

Yes we do shag in Britain, I want to say, but I'm completely lost by this point, how else would I be here?! And then the penny drops as I remember a flippant comment long ago as my mother explained how Martha was a very good shag-dancer. 

The Carolina Shag is a dance. A little bit like our old school rock-n-roll that parents like to bring out at parties but mixed up with what looks like flamenco footwork to me. 

Oh and there goes the tornado siren again. I can imagine some of the expressions right now. My mum will look aghast but my sister will probably have her hand over her mouth in a strange expression of amusement and concern. Shadenfruede. Jay is probably doing that weird half-grin thing whilst Zoe reads on with distress - it's the South after all and maybe Chapel Hill is going up 'Wizard of Oz' style. Holt... well he'll look at this with the eye of a literature student and wonder if this is good reading. 

So on a day like today I feel almost completely at home. It's grey outside, it's under 30C and it's been raining for most of the day. But then, like with almost every day, something happens that reminds me that this isn't home at all. Today it was a tornado siren going off as I turned the kettle on thus thwarting my attempts to make tea. But yesterday it was Rush Round Three and seeing how different their systems are; before that it was being asked if I wanted to go shag. This is 'culture shock' - infamous and a little bit intimidating.

They say it consists of various stages including the honey-moon period, disillusionment period, homesickness, assimilation and autonomy. It sounds almost scientific. 

This is my rendering: 

It was done in Paint whilst waiting for the All-Clear from Alert!Carolina so Mock away. 

I think it'll probably happen - especially now that I'm getting messages from people about being back in Edinburgh, walking past the old 2/2, realising that unlike everyone else I'm not coming back this year(thanks for that one Holt I very nearly teared up =P). But despite the moments where I feel critical or lonely or very very far away from home, or terrified about a natural disaster, or thinking 'oh so-and-so would love this' before realising so-and-so will likely never see 'this' and feeling rather morose - despite all those things and many many more, I already feel like this is a place I could fall in love with and never want to leave. 

There are, as John May already pointed out, many things that are ODD (those capitals are necessary) about being in America. The toilets are really low and 'full to the brim with water', he says, and the traffic lights are barmy (you have to add at least an extra five-ten minutes of walk time to lectures because of the lights). The traffic runs backwards, pedestrians are 'peds', lectures are compulsory, tutorials can be almost 50 people big, you can't drink until you're 21, night life closes at 2am, you get random days off for things no one understands, mere month-year-old babies are brought to university football games in full UNC uniform, there is more carolina blue than stars, a kettle is a water boiler, tea has to be bought from a health-food store, the university supplies starbucks, the Old Well is a water fountain, the buses are free, the food is all fried and twice the size of anything you'd eat at home, the people are all friendly and the little silver coin that looks like a five pence is worth more than the medium silver coin that looks like a fake ten piece. 

Confused yet?

There's more - but I'll make another list for those at some point. Despite all the confusion, despite all those weird little things that I'm hoping will suddenly arrange themselves into a moment of Fridge Brilliance, I'm loving it here and don't worry, I just received a text from Alert!Carolina giving us the ALL CLEAR for the time being on the tornado front. 

So back to real life (if you can call this real life) and on y vas!

Je serai poète et toi poésie,
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