Having taken enough physical mental and time distance from the island, I can say now officially, I miss it. Don’t start looking at me with those bit eyes full of surprise… or is it something else?
Wanting it or not (mostly not) England was my home for the best part of my adult years this far. It is there, where I learned how to interact with other adults on equal terms, deal with authorities and survive bureaucracy. So now, I have moved worlds choosing as my new planet a place without queuing traditions but with widely know good cuisine, a place that everybody acknowledges as a “great place to be”. So, how do I dare miss England?
Okay, step back for a moment. I don’t miss everything about it. I don’t miss the teenage mums, the dirty streets on Sunday morning, the cold feeling in the gut until I get home Friday night after pub closing time, the train delays, the shops closing at five (or rather the world closing at five). Plenty of things I do not miss.
What do I miss?
First and foremost, I miss that in England, this great little country, everybody knows what to expect. There is a certain order, there is a certain routine, even in the most un-orderly of situations. You know that when you enter a restaurant you have to wait to be seated, while in a pub you have to go find the seat that suits you unassisted. You know that customer service people will greed you with a smile, will be full of thank yous and pleases and I beg your pardons, and they will even be sorry for your inconvenience. Well not really, but they will say so. It is part of the game.
When you enter the country it upsets you, then you get used to it, when you leave you miss it. The world out there is a jungle without these unwritten rules.
I also miss the pubs, the ones with good real ale, some nicely made burgers and interesting customers who can tell you stories from the old days.
I miss the bookstores, that had books in a language I can understand, and that had logically designed sections.
I miss the bbc iplayer. My only contact to pop culture.
I miss the high street shops, where I knew where I could find the things I need, sparing me the time of wondering around for three hours in a tourist invaded city centre.
But above all I miss Indian restaurants.
Don’t get me wrong… Italy is a great place, which I still need to explore to more detail. But England was the awkward place I was used to. And like with bad relationships, habit is the critical factor.
Now, is time I give Italy a chance.
