For the first time in a three weeks, I was finally able to go back to work. With the visa I have, I can’t actually get paid—but that doesn’t stop me from volunteering. The central point of Bath is the Gothic cathedral, Bath Abbey. On a whim the first week of class, I signed up to take a free tower tour and see if I liked the job. After climbing 212 steps to the top—making various educational stops along the way—we reached the top. Gazing down at the rooftops, I was in love.
Every Monday, I make the trek two or three times up the stairs, lecturing people on bells, bell ringers, the clock, fan vaulting (a style of ceiling), and finally at the top, general information about Bath. I love my job, I love the feeling that I am doing something for others, that there isn’t anything in the job for me other than doing something for the community I’m now a part of.
This week, we had 8 people sign up for a tour, meaning we needed two people. The other guide let me do most the talking, which was sweet of her, since she had been doing the job much longer than I had. Leading the group up the spiral staircase, I chatted with the woman behind me, an older woman in group of six ladies who had all come together. It was just the usual—where are you from? How long are you in Bath? Etc. Inevitably, she started asking about America. People always love to ask me questions about America.
Supposedly, only 33% of Americans own passports—and I get that waved in my face all the time by the Brits. Yet, as much as we don’t travel, the Brits aren’t that much better. I have British friends who have never been to Scotland (side note: Edinburgh is about a 6.5 hour train ride from Bath. So not that far.) They also have a terrible grip on American geography. Americans are supposed to be the ones who can’t find Iraq on a map and yet, I’ve got some pretty strange answers when I’ve asked questions about America. For example, how many states are there? I thought that’d be an easy one, as there are the same number of stars on the flag, and it’s a nice, even number. Yet, I’ve gotten 52, 53, 54, and 56. One of those was my teacher while I was in Spain. I’ve seen people place Boston somewhere in the south, I’ve heard both Massachusetts and Virginia labeled as cities.
This would not bother me so much if there wasn’t such a stereotype on Americans that WE know nothing about geography. When I first arrived, I had to pass little “tests” by my British friends (how many countries make up the UK? What are their capitals? Name 5 cities in Ireland. What’s the capital of Germany?) I passed them easily enough.
In the end, I guess it all matters on perspective. What’s important to know in one country may not have the same importance to know in another. I’m glad that I was able to leave the States and see how another country views my home country, I’m glad that I was able to enter a new perspective. I love the experience of seeing something the way another culture sees it, I love the ability to—at least for the time being—join in to that way of thought.
I later found out that later that the group of older ladies on the tour asking me questions were on a university reunion—40 years ago, they had all gone to university at St Andrews, Scotland, and they were all still friends going on a trip to Bath together. That was heartwarming.
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