Final hoedown

Jings, I have been rather lax with this whole blogging lark lately haven't I? So lax, in fact, that I am no longer in Memphis and only managed to write a measly five entries whilst there. The title 'Blogging in Memphis' is no longer accurate, but I feel I should write one last entry before calling it quits on this project. My last post listed some particularly stupid questions I was asked whilst in Memphis and I fear this may leave people with the wrong impression. I do not view Americans with contempt or regret choosing America for my year abroad. In fact, I sort of liked the quizzing I received.

Although I did encounter some rather ignorant people, the constant questions revealed a curiosity to Americans that is often unfairly derided. It is generally claimed that Americans don't place much importance on learning about other countries, as they believe there is no greater country than their own. Whilst there is an overwhelming sense of patriotism in the States, my own dealings with citizens didn't reflect this supposed superiority complex. When people discovered I was from another country I wasn't treated with suspicion nor was I met with hostility. One drunk girl did demand to know why I was foreign - as if I had some say in the matter - but that was the closest feeling to animosity I encountered. Instead reactions ranged from bewilderment to enthrallment. Given only 34% of Americans own a passport, meeting a European is a fairly novel experience for them and one they want to take full advantage of by asking numerous questions. Maybe this curiosity has been passed down through generations; after all the majority of Americans' ancestors (with the exception of Native Americans and African Americans) were curious enough to ditch Europe in order to better their lives. Ironically a lot of Americans I spoke to seem intent on making the opposite journey in order to achieve the same thing.

I often wonder what I'd be like if my ancestors had been more adventurous and moved across the pond. I'd probably be far less cynical, more gregarious and have a greater tolerance for time-outs in sport. As well as being curious, I found Americans to be very helpful and not simply those looking to gain credits from the international office. As I've mentioned before, being an international student in America makes one very reliant on others. This dependency, although irritating, allowed the locals to show their hospitality and show it they did. I will be forever grateful to all the Americans who helped make my stay in Memphis so enjoyable. If any of them are to visit my humble country I will attempt to return the favour.

The final couple of months in Memphis were as eventful as the previous ones. Highlights included spring break which involved a road trip - taking in New Orleans, Panama City Beach, Tampa Bay and Miami. Spring break is basically the American version of the 18-30 "alcoholiday" British people take in places like Ayia Napa and Magaluf. It was quite an experience although those involved are all getting a little old for the constant debauchery involved in such excursions. Trips to Nashville, where I got to sample ice hockey, and Arkansas, where I almost got to sample my first tornado, proved to be my final road trips in the land where the automobile, not customer, is the real king. I couldn't have spent my final weeks with a more repulsive yet lovable group of people. My international family.

It is for them I will reserve my final words. Without 'Team Europe', I would have undoubtedly had a far poorer experience and leaving Memphis would have been a far easier task. I had never expected to find kindred spirits in German, Danish, Italian or (least of all) French students. The exchange revealed the differences between Britons and mainland Europeans are only partially true. Our continental neighbours may be better at languages than us and they may have better diets, but they are in no way more sophisticated or better behaved. I have never before encountered such a crude group with an unhealthy obsession with bodily functions, and I doubt I ever will again. So to them, and everyone I became friends with during my time in Memphis, I say cheerio, auf wiedersehen, au revoir, arriverderci, hej hej and - to use the southern parlance - see y'all later. Much later.

Top 10 stupid things Americans say to Scots

I was recently shown a video of English comedian Ricky Gervais presenting the 'Top 10 stupid things Americans say to Brits' on the David Letterman Show. It was a bit Anglocentric for my liking so I have composed a Scottish alternative. I hope this is taken in good humour by any Americans reading.

Top 10 stupid things Americans say to Scots (or to this Scot at least):

10. "So what language do y'all speak in Scotland?"

- A lot of Americans seem genuinely shocked when I explain the first language in Scotland is English. I usually state that a small portion of the country also speak Gaelic to which they reply, "Yeah that's what I was thinking of when I said y'all don't speak English." Sure it was.

9. "Scotland and Ireland, it's the same country right?"

- Despite sharing a common interest in destroying our livers and our fellow countrymen in bar brawls, we are not the same country. The Irish have given the world great poets and writers, whereas the Scots have given the world great philosophers and inventors. Not sure who's been of greater value really.

8. "Why do you sometimes refer to yourself as British, you're not from England!"

- British refers to all citizens of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, that includes England, Scotland, Wales and (you guessed it) Northern Ireland. It's a bit of a tricky concept to grasp and even our southern neighbours get English and British mixed up from time to time.

7. "Do you have electricity/cars/ketchup in Scotland?"

- You'd be forgiven for thinking I was from Somalia the amount of times I'm asked if we possess basic amenities like the aforementioned.

6. "Oh you're from Scotland, do you know a guy called Jim, he's from Scotland as well."

- Although we are a small nation compared to the US, the likelihood of me knowing everyone in Scotland, given there's 5 million of us, is slim.

Judging by this advertisement, Scots aren't the only ones getting asked this question.


5. "You're Scottish? So am I!"

- Usually asked in a thick southern drawl, this really boils down to Americans' obsession with their heritage. An obsession most Europeans do not share. Simply having Scottish ancestry does not make you Scottish. Be proud to be an American, if you're not who will be!

4. "There's a Glasgow in Scotland? I guess it was named after the Glasgow here."

- Admittedly I didn't personally hear this but was told of it by my dear father. I'm guessing world history wasn't a subject deemed of much value by teachers in Glasgow, Kentucky.

3. "Do you play the bagpipes?"

- Nope. Sometimes I don't even wear a kilt.

2. "Is the UK really part of Europe? I had no idea."

- While the UK is separate from mainland Europe geographically speaking, it is most definitely part of the continent. If we're not in Europe then we should really thinking about reclaiming the £4.7 billion the UK contribute towards the EU each year (that's about $6 billion).

1. "So is Scotland, like, in England?"

- No. England is in Scotland.

Ghetto Gospel

As mentioned in my previous entry, the beginning of the semester saw me undertake a perilous adventure in a downscale part of Memphis with my international chums. You may accuse me of melodrama - and you'd probably be right - when I say that this episode represented one of the few times (certainly the only time in Memphis) that I've genuinely feared for my life. I wouldn't dare suggest I've had a tough upbringing, growing up in a largely safe and uneventful area of Glasgow, but I have borne witness to violence on several occasions. Gun crime, however, is still quite rare in Scotland so the following encounter represented the first time that being shot was a distinct possibility for me. I tried to find solace in the words of Goldie Lookin' Chain, who proclaimed, "Guns don't kill people, rappers do". Unfortunately for me half of Memphis think they're 50 Cent.

As part of our immersion into southern culture we had decided to attend a gospel concert arranged to raise money for St Jude Children's Research Hospital (a very worthy cause might I add). I have sat through church services before both with my school and when visiting my Catholic grandmother, but the born-again, "Praise tha lawd!" evangelism preached by Baptists in the south is wholly (or should that be holy?) different to the drab Presbyterian and Roman Catholic services I've experienced back home. The largely atheist group of exchange students saw the concert as a good opportunity to see what worshipping God in the Bible Belt was all about.

Before we could do this we had the challenge of getting to the venue and since none of us possessed a car, we were left with the option of calling a taxi for or going the European way - by foot. Contrary to what Marc Cohn will tell you, walking in Memphis is an activity seldom undertaken by the locals. The reason being Memphis, like a lot of American cities, is fairly spread out making walking a laborious, unpleasant task and car ownership a necessity not a luxury. Even if Memphis was more pedestrian friendly it would still be ill-advised to walk through much of the city due to the high crime rate. Whilst on the subject of being ill-advised, I was informed by a local that the route we had to take was relatively safe and we "had nothing to worry about". I can only assume that the resident in question must either view one's personal safety as something so frivolous that it's not worth worrying about or had never actually taken this route before. In light of this advice, we chose walking.

The journey started out fairly smoothly with your humble servant acting as navigator due to my being in Memphis the longest. However, as we got closer to the church we noticed the houses becoming more dilapidated and the amount of cars fewer. If that wasn't a sign we were entering the ghetto the next five minutes or so sure was! I can only imagine what entered the residents' minds when they saw a large group of foreigners marching through their neighbourhood dressed entirely differently and from a culture completely alien to them. It was a bit like June 14, 1940 but with fewer Germans.

Their first act was to hurl insults at us. At the time I could barely understand what was being said but was fairly certain we weren't being invited into their home for a cup of tea and a chinwag. I have since been told they were inquiring as to whether we were scared or not. It doesn't take a University of Memphis graduate to work out the answer was a collective yes. Two men then decided to approach us, one dragging a metal stick against the ground menacingly as if to say, "We don't take kindly to strangers especially white ones". I teamed up with Mark and Andy in an attempt to plan our escape. It was decided if a gun was brought out we would shove the French students to the ground, leaving them to fend for themselves, then run off to the sanctity of the church. If ever there was a time for the French to renounce secularism and start believing in a God, this was it.

Luckily matters didn't escalate any further and no gun was presented as we made it to the concert with no injuries incurred only slightly bruised egos. The event itself was entertaining and allowed us to see a Baptist minister preaching the bible with all the vivacity Baptist ministers are known for. This involved a lot of posturing, sloganeering and even some dancing in a fairly demagogic fashion. I can't say I learned much from this but the experience prior to the concert certainly did teach me and my foreign friends a valuable lesson. Walking had been the wrong decision to take that day, we have since found out taxis in the city are incredibly unreliable making the best method of transport getting a ride from a friend. I think this form of decision making is ostensibly American. As Winston Churchill once said, never doubt Americans' ability to do the right thing, after exhausting every other alternative!

Jock, stock and barrel

After spending three weeks in a decidedly snow-ridden Scotland, I was far from pleased to find Memphis experiencing sub-zero temperatures upon my return. Thankfully things soon warmed up allowing me to venture outside and experience another great American tradition, the firing of a shotgun. The right to keep and bear arms is something a lot of Americans take very seriously with gun ownership in the U.S. higher than any other country in the world. The fervent debate surrounding the issue isn't going to end any time soon so instead of pondering the matter I headed to Hernando, Mississippi to go skeet shooting with my friend and future Pullitzer Prize winner John Graubman.

Doing my best Charlton Heston impression

John shooting for the stars

Euro so foreign to me.

It was not long after my escapades in Hernando that the next assortment of exchange students arrived. Being both curious and unable to turn down free food I went along to the pizza party celebrating their arrival. I had discovered last semester I was to be joined by three British students from the prestigious Buckinghamshire New University in south-east England. Envisioning some Jude Law lookalikes dazzling the locals with their quaint English mannerisms, I wasn't sure if they would be a welcome addition to the foreign legion. However such worries were quickly eased as the students in question turned out to be three females, none of whom even mildly resemble Mr Law.

(l-r) Amanda, Tiffany and Kimberly or, as I wittily refer to them, the English birds

Whereas last semester's exchange students were largely German (large being the operative word for most of their height), this semester finds their Gallic neighbours taking centre stage. Along with the French there's also two Danes, a German and an Italian .

This semester's international crew plus a couple of Americans

The French are generally more amiable than their sole representative last semester with the notable exception of Kahina - a business student from Lille who enjoys insulting me for being Scottish whilst hailing France as the cultural capital of the world. To borrow a phrase from her vastly superior language, I'm getting a sense of déjà vu. Silvia, the only Italian in the group, probably feels at home in Memphis due to its history of political corruption and gang warfare. I mistook her for a French student when we first met, but won't be doing so again if I'm to avoid waking up next to a horse's head in my bed. The (great) Danes, Andy and Trine, (often mistaken for being Dutch) are both from Aalborg University and like all Scandinavians speak near perfect English - better dare I say than some of their American counterparts. Much in the same way Americans are rather mis-informed about Scotland, their knowledge of Denmark isn't particularly impressive either. After meeting Andy one Memphian informed her friends, "this is Andy, he's from Denmark, Colorado."

Andy is part of what has affectionately become known as "the gay triangle" along with Mark from Germany and yours truly. The triangle turns into a square when we are joined by French student Guillaume or G as he's become known due to his name being unpronounceable to most Anglophones (myself included). Mark is the closest to me in age although you'd be forgiven for thinking he was closer to 12 given his puerile sense of humour (which is quite a statement coming from me!).

(l-r) Me, Tiphaine, Kahina, G and Mark.

As evidenced by this photo, I've already managed to attend a few Grizzlies games this semester; their 95 - 93 victory over the LA Lakers a particular highlight. Other notable excursions have been a near-death experience in one of the less salubrious areas of Memphis, a gospel concert, watching my beloved Saints clinch the Super Bowl and travelling to Dallas for the All-Star basketball game. A lot of this requires further elucidation so I'll get around to that in my next entry. Until then, goodbye or hej hej (pronounced hi hi confusingly enough) as they say in Denmark.

Part A in the USA

I find myself in the unenviable position of trying to compress the whole of last semester into one paltry blog entry. Admittedly this was a self-imposed challenge so I shan't complain too much. My memory isn't what it used to be so I will no doubt omit various details but hopefully you'll get a reasonable impression of what it was like.

"You're from Scotland? How long have you been learning English for?"

Improving one's English was the reason given by almost every international student for coming to Memphis during our orientation, with one notable exception. As the sole Anglophone in the group, improving my already impressive knowledge of the mother tongue was not a particular goal of mine. I have, however, improved my knowledge of American English whilst here as well as becoming better acquainted with ebonics. For those unfamiliar with the term, ebonics is an African American dialect, or language depending on your viewpoint. As a Scot I'm familiar with this condundrum due to the Scots language being subject to a similar debate. I may be biased but I'd argue Scots originated at a time when the English language wasn't yet standardised so can legitimately be described as a language. Ebonics, in comparison, is far more recent and therefore cannot. Even as a native-English speaker I struggled to understand a lot of the African Americans I met. I can only imagine how my fellow exchange students managed.

In contrast to my home university, where there is over 1000 international students, Memphis is rather more modest in its intake of foreigners. Only 20 exchange students were starting at the same time as me, most of them either German or Japanese. I may have chosen a former British colony but I found myself surrounded by our former enemies, with only a Frenchmen as an ally.

The international crew minus the Japs.

And some ally he turned out to be! Matthieu from Paris confirmed all stereotypes associated with Parisians as well as my suspicions that the Auld Alliance is as dead as the "special relationship" between the UK and the US. I spent the entire semester trading insults with him in what I think was a jovial manner, although I'm not entirely sure his were in jest. The Germans, by contrast, were more genial towards me and I became friends with several of them. One of whom was Victor, a business student from the Catholic University of Eichstaett-Ingolstadt (think that's right). As well as being around the same age as me, he also shared my rather morbid sense of humour thus we quickly became friends.

Victor and I

Victor differed from the other Germans, not only because he had a distinctly American-sounding twang to his accent but he rarely spoke German or associated with his countrymen. His reckoning was that whilst in America he wanted to integrate fully into the culture, and thus speaking in a language other than English would not be conducive to this. With that in mind, he decided to explore the possibility of joining a fraternity. If you're anything like me, your knowledge of fraternities/sororities was probably gained solely from watching films like Animal House and Old School (which is called Auld School in Scotland, American readers). The reality of "Greek life" is somewhat different.

Frat's all folks!

I decided to join Victor in "rushing" the fraternities at the U of M. Rushing is the recruitment process for Greek organisations and consists of 5 days visiting the various fraternity houses on campus so as to gauge which one suits you best. Whilst visiting you get a chance to speak to the current members to learn more about each fraternity. As the week goes on you narrow your choices down to a final 3 who then (hopefully) make a "bid" for you. Although I received bids from all 3 of my choices, I opted not to join any for various reasons. Victor, however, joined Phi Gamma Delta (commonly known as Fiji) which he is now a full member of. So well done Victor!

Victor and his Fiji brothers (Victor's the one dressed as if he's attending a funeral)

Pardon me girls, is that the Chattanooga Choo Choo?

Another American tradition made famous in popular culture by Jack Kerouac amongst others is the road trip. I was only able to make one such trip last semester, a 6-hour drive to the city of Chattanooga in east Tennessee. I, along with my friends Steffanie and Whitney, were heading there initially to watch a beauty pageant a friend of ours was competing in (an experience that possibly merits its own entry). My knowledge of Chattanooga was largely based on the Glen Miller song 'Chattanooga Choo Choo' so I didn't really know what to expect. I was delighted to find Chattanooga a picturesque city surrounded by the Appalachian mountains, entirely different to the largely flat Memphis. We spent a couple of days exploring the local acquarium (which gives mention to the wonderful River Clyde), attending said beauty pageant and going to Rock City (no relation to Detroit), located on Lookout Mountain. Ironically enough I never did see the Chattanooga choo choo.

(l-r) Whitney, me and Steffanie on Lookout Mountain

A sporting chance.

My semester wouldn't have been complete without taking in some American sports. As a U of M student, I was able to go to football and basketball games for free, and being a sucker for a bargain, I did. With a rather toothless attack (unlike the real life tiger present at home games), the university's football team are hardly a model of success, but being a Scotland/Partick Thistle fan I'm used to supporting the losing side.

Me at a Tigers game whilst sampling some of the local cuisine.

The basketball team, on the other hand, are far more successful and boasted (until very recently) an unbeaten run of 64 games. I enjoyed watching both sports but I'm not fully convinced of American football's merit. Conversely, I'm fast becoming a basketball enthusiast and regularly attend games. Hopefully I'll watch a baseball game before the semester is out. Until then I think I'll blow the final whistle on this entry.

Website Story

After much deliberation I have decided to pander to unpopular demand and create a blog documenting my time here in Memphis, Tennessee. For those of you who don't know (which should be none of you) I decided during my 2nd year at Napier University to study abroad (or two) through the International Student Exchange Programme (ISEP) for my 3rd year. I had grown bored of dreary Scotland with its parochialness - not to be confused with Loch Ness by my American readers - and the chance to spend the year abroad was too great an opportunity to turn down. This blog will attempt to summarise my time here for the purpose of posterity and to save me bombarding my friends with colossal emails.

The question I was asked most before leaving for the States was either "why America?" or "why Memphis?". The question I get asked with worrying frequency here is the latter. To answer the first question, I decided my linguistic skills, or lack thereof, would limit me from integrating into a non-English speaking country. This left me with a selection of former British colonies. I overlooked (criminally you might say) Australia due to the gargantuan distance involved and thus discounted New Zealand for this reason. Realistically it had to be either Canada or the USA.

"Canada, it's not the party, it's the apartment above the party."

The above quote by my apparent sound-alike (if drunken Memphians are to be believed)and fellow Scottish diaspora member Craig Ferguson was a nice little analogy although it goes no way in explaining why I chose the land of the free over the land of the Cree (ahem!). The mundane truth is I decided on America due to there being far more universities offering classes that matched what I'd be taking at Napier. This makes perfect sense when you realise I'm studying Communication, Advertising & Public Relations - three quintessentially American areas of study. It's ironic that I'm in a city famous for soul music given how often I'm accused of selling mine after I tell people what I'm studying.

On the subject of music, Memphis is culturally one of the richest cities in America (monetarily it's sadly not so well endowed). How many other cities can claim three of the most recognisable faces of country, rock 'n' roll and blues as their own? However, Memphis was not my first choice. I had originally wanted to study at Loyola University in New Orleans but due to there being no spaces available there or at any of my other choices I was forced to reconsider. ISEP offered me either Louisville, Kentucky or Memphis, knowing nothing of Louisville I chose Memphis.

I have a whole semester behind me now so I'll try and condense that experience into my next entry. Until then I hope you enjoy this little introduction and feel free to leave a comment expressing your enjoyment/tolerance of my writing.