Politeness and the British Way

I just came across this article the other day, which came as quite a surprise actually. I didn't really think that Americans, much less New Yorkers, would think British English is either cool, or good to use to try to sound, 'posh'. Most of the time, it just sounds poncey to use such unfamiliar language. But then again, if you travel back and forth between the UK and US it could seep in and start to get all mixed up. I have had compliments lately from a couple of Americans that my British accent is lovely to listen to, but mostly because they were exposed to other kinds of regional British accents that they had found incomprehensible. I suppose the standard RP accent (what most people consider 'BBC English') is the preferred kind of British accent but it makes you wonder how others are perceived if they can't even be fully understood. I read in the Guardian, that had a whole round up of 'comedy news' yesterday (whatever that is) that the actor/comedian Rob Brydon will play a Welshman living in LA. How ever will Americans understand him? Will he purposely have to talk more slowly?

As an interesting follow-on discovery from this NYTimes article, I came across the blog 'Separated by a Common Language' where one of the latest articles deals with the issue of politeness. I'm quite interested in this because the word 'politeness' brings up all sorts of connotations for me. It reminds me of my childhood and having it drummed into me as though the world would collapse under a sea of despicable, immoral conduct if not used, that 'please' and 'thank you' were the most vital elements of any conversation at the dinner table. Quite rightly, my Mum wanted us to be grateful children, who always respected the people around them and would be polite at all times in either requesting or receiving something. On the other hand, this stretched to asking permission for all manner of things that perhaps went a bit too far. Was it really necessary to ask, "please could I leave the table now, as I've got homework to do?"  And worse still, was it necessary to decline kind offers from neighbours or family friends, when you really wanted to accept, just because it was the polite thing to do, not to take 'too much'?

This last point leads into the idea of self-worth. Too much politeness or an overly self-deprecating manner can cause its own problems. Perhaps these are not readily recognised in the UK, but I've noticed the differences I've experienced in both the US and here in the Czech Republic, not to mention comments from Russian and German friends. Elizabeth Gilbert in her book, 'Committed', (that I've been avidly reading and have just finished) explains the uncomfortableness of finding herself caught in a 'permission-seeking' situation with her own partner. She knew what she wanted to do, (go to Cambodia on her own without her partner) and she wanted to check that her partner would be ok with the idea, but she didn't want to put herself in the position of making her partner some kind of authority figure from whom she had to seek permission. As she puts it:

"When it came time to discuss with Felipe my idea of going off to Cambodia without him for a spell, I broached the topic with a degree of skittishness that surprised me. For a few days, I could not seem to find the right approach. I didn't want to feel as though I were asking his permission to go, since that placed him in the role of a master or a parent - and that wouldn't be fair to me. Nor, though, could I imagine sitting down with this nice, considerate man and bluntly informing him that I was heading off alone whether he liked it or not. This would place me in the role of wilful tyrant, which was obviously unfair to him."   

I recently struggled with learning the protocol of polite language usage here with some friends of friends who were Czech. First of all, there's the question of whether to use the 'Ty' or 'Vy' form, i.e a friendly form of 'you' or the polite, respectful one. And then, there's the question of how often to use the more polite conditional forms, such as 'could I help with something?' instead of a straightforward, 'can I help?' and you can forget about adding 'please' to any simple request to pass something over or ask where the loo is. That would just seem a typically apologetically British approach that has no place in this country. 

So it's something I'm still battling to learn. Having been accused of being too polite by ex-partner, who often said, "you don't need to apologise for breathing, you know!" about my tendency to say sorry too much, and yet at the same time being brought up to avoid asking for too much because that was rude, I'm in a bit of a pickle really. Maybe I just need to be British-ly polite in the UK and assume a certain sense of 'everything's ok' in places like the US and here in the Czech Republic and try very hard NEVER to get confused and mix them up.

Forces beyond one's control and other existential crises

I've been reading the latest Elizabeth Gilbert book, "Committed", which is largely about her plight of having to get married in order to resolve an issue with immigration that sent her and her boyfriend into a horrible limbo of travelling and waiting for permission to marry in order to be accepted back into the US, despite the fact that she and her boyfriend had sworn off marriage for life after their painful divorces. I'm gripped by it, not only because of the similarity of opinion that she expresses throughout the book about how she sees marriage as something that has always benefited men, while robbing women of much of their previous strength and autonomy, but also because her situation of a kind of exile in a lifestyle she doesn't want reflects my current predicament so profoundly.

I admire her writing style in amongst what could otherwise be quite dry subject matter of statistics and research findings about marriage across various time periods and locations. I'm also humbled by the way in which her relationship endures this incredibly demanding challenge. In having to stay out of the US and keep travelling, and having to face doing the very thing they said they'd never do, just to be able to stay living together, I feel every bit of her struggle to comprehend how debilitating it is to be at the mercy of a power greater than you. In her case, the US immigration system. In my case, the recession, or maybe it's not the recession, it's just some outer force that has decided that for me to ever progress in my life, I have to be thrust back into the very surroundings and circumstances that not only I said I'd never want to be in, but also that reflect everything I have tried to avoid in my life since leaving home. I cannot understand how I have got to this age, travelled this far, (ok, not that far from the UK really) and ended up in a place that reminds me of everything I hated about my childhood.

I do not want to live in the suburbs, far away from connection with the vibrant city, but that is where I grew up, and where I am again now, albeit in another country. I do not want to be judged and held in shame for mistakes I've made or things I want but can't seem to get, yet that is what countless sarcastic comments and repeated stories jokingly retold in both my childhood and in my current relationship seem designed to do. I do not want to be dependent on someone else's income and unable to afford to buy the kind of healthy food I really long for, the kind of quality clothes I really desire because I want things that make me feel good and last a long time, the kind of books and magazines that keep me informed about the world, the kind of technology that enables me to pursue my creative projects freely and efficiently and yet, this is the position I am in. 

Whatever force is at play here, I am certainly aware of the irony, the amusement, the shame in all of this. I can hear the voice of my uncle poised to say, "She speaks all these foreign languages and studied so much and she still can't earn enough to live on her own!  Ha ha!" I also know that he is a pretty messed-up individual with 'issues' of his own that are none of my business, as mine should be none of his. I am willing to learn whatever it is I need to learn here, but it is painful. It is not easy to live with someone who gets angry with me for not being able to drive because, "that's what normal people do" and I don't fall into the category of 'normal' adequately enough for him. I am perfectly 'normal' for anyone living in a busy, capital city with an integrated public transport system, and what is more, I did drive, I got a licence when I could but I have since had little opportunity to practise seeing as I haven't needed a car, nor would it have made much sense to have one, central London parking costs being what they are. But I am being picked at for my failings as a suitable suburban housewife, with no compassion for the fact that the last thing I am or will ever be is a suburban housewife.

So I soldier on. One day at a time. One writing assignment at a time. One advertisement applied to at a time. I am counting every penny (or rather crown) and trying to keep 'going without' things, such as still not getting my hair cut since March, still not buying any new jumpers or leggings even though I need them, still not being able to afford a flat because I have to keep the money my sister lent me as emergency money for income loss, not as flat deposit money. I will not be able to afford to move into a new flat until I get some regular work that pays me enough to cover food, phone bill, travelcard and still have some left over for all the other costs and some left over to save up with because not only have rents gone up while my salary has plummeted, but I will soon have to pay healthcare, taxes and national insurance here in a bid to gamble on getting more work as a result of having the documentation clients need to get their bosses to release funds for their training, that as far as I can ascertain will cost me a third of what my rent will probably be, which means, not only do I need to earn more than I am earning now (clearly) but I need to be earning more than I was when I was working for lots of clients in order to cover higher rent and more charges on top of the usual stuff.

Hence, I need a miracle. A job offer that brings me a liveable wage, a series of high-paying clients and a regular writing job that pays a wage someone in London could actually buy their grocery shopping each week with (at least) or else I have to contemplate moving into a shared house, which totally defeats the object of being in Prague altogether, because that was the only thing I hoped to gain by coming here.  And I had it. That lovely central, really reasonably priced flat all to myself. I had it for two years and I am enormously grateful for it. I would dearly love to start making some gains now, instead of fielding more losses. I would love to have an opportunity to show how much better I am at living when I actually get to do it in my own private space. Whatever force is at play holding me here, I hope it will teach me whatever it is I have to learn as rapidly and solidly as it can because when I leave here, I do not want to have to come back. Ever.