Learning to drive and shop in Scotland

Yesterday, I took the plunge and drove for the first time in our rental car! It was just a quick trip to the grocery store, but I’m happy to report that it was uneventful, and no one was hurt in the process. I managed to pass successfully through two roundabouts on the way, too, though I’m still not completely confident that I understand the rules of the road that apply to them. Officially, I think one is supposed to yield to any driver coming from the right, but my approach so far has been to drive up to the roundabout slowly until I’m sure no one is coming in any direction, then cross my fingers and just shoot straight across! The strangest part is not actually driving, but getting used to the way a car is set up to be driven from someone sitting on the right side. The rear view mirror, pointed to the right, mostly affords a view of the back seat, and the wipers and “indicators” are all switched, which means that instead of signaling, I’m accidentally cleaning the windshield all the time. The shifter is on the left as well, meaning that I have to use my left hand to move into forward or reverse. This part especially drives me nuts and takes some getting used to, though I’m sure it is much appreciated by all of those Scots I see on the road who can freely hold their cigarette in their right hand as a result!

The concentration that driving on the left hand side of the road requires of us made us both a bit curious about why the British drive on this side, anyway, and why Americans (and others) drive on the right. Turns out that, like many things, it comes down to one man: Napoleon. Centuries ago, when travelers were moving along the road on foot or horseback, they usually stayed to the left, in order to keep their sword-clutching hand (usually the right, for most people) toward the center of the road in order to ward off any potential attacks. When Napoleon came along (he’s a 19^th century French emperor, for those of you who slept through high school history class, and historically considered to have been left-handed), he trained his armies to carry their swords in the left hand, and therefore led them into battle on the right-hand side of the road. Once the colonies were established and Americans developed a deep desire to jettison anything British, we went with the French custom of driving on the right! Either that, or Americans just don’t want to lean all the way across the car for their takeout food from the drive-thru window at McDonalds!

I made another breakthrough yesterday too: I finally deciphered the phrase that all Scottish grocery-store clerks utter as a customer arrives at the cash register to pay for groceries. Now, I have been to Morrison’s, the grocery store down the street, about four times so far, and each time have had no idea what the woman behind the register has asked me. I figured out that it was a five-syllable phrase early on, but that was about as far as I got. I decided that the safe bet was to answer “no” each time, since it would be best for her to begin with low expectations of me and then to raise them if I changed the answer to whatever she was asking to a “yes,” than the other way around. Well, it turns out that I was wrong. The oft-repeated phrase is: “Hiya…self-bag then?” Repeat that a few times, in a Scottish accent of course, and you can understand how completely indecipherable the phrase can be! Now that I know what they are saying, of course, I’m a bit embarrassed about being known as the idiot American woman who asks the cashier to bag her groceries for her, then sets about doing it herself. Oh, well…

Finally, I think I am also getting the hang of grocery shopping in this country. It can be quite confusing, since all the products are either a different brand (no Tide or Bounty here…Scotland has “Thirsty Pockets” paper towels and “Fairy” brand dish detergent, both of which come in only two sizes: small and truly wee) or unfamiliar altogether (such as Marmite Yeast Extract, billed as “a tasty savoury sandwich spread.” Yech…). There’s certainly no ranch dressing here, and definitely no “English” muffins. The vegetable aisle consists mainly of weensy bags of lettuce and big bulbs of something called “swede” which looks a bit like a rutabaga (for anyone who actually knows what a rutabaga looks like), so imagine my surprise as I looked across the aisles to see what was housed in each and saw a big sign over aisle 9 that read “Squash.” Turns out, that’s juice here, or more precisely “juice product”…whatever that means. I have learned that it’s key to read labels while shopping, if you dare. I noticed today that the can of Diet Coke I was drinking said “sparkling low calorie soft drink with vegetable extracts with sweeteners.” I must say that I had no idea that Diet Coke included vegetable extracts, but I sure do feel a little less guilty about drinking it now. I have not, however, been brave enough yet to read the label on a package of haggis!

Overall, we have found that the groceries are pretty good. The fruit is actually much better than it is in the U.S…and much cheaper! I bought a bag of oranges for 90 pence (about $1.50) that are delicious, and there are also fresh apricots “on offer” that are amazing. The yogurt is terrific, though it always is in Europe, and the marmalade comes in every flavor imaginable…black currant, Seville orange, even lemon. No grape jelly here, thank goodness. The bread is also great…super crusty on the outside and soft inside, and just begging for a big smear of Nutella! They may not have English muffins, but they sell Irish pancakes and crumpets instead, which are much better. And the scones! Emma and I both had tears in our eyes the first time we bit into one! There are some other quirks too: eggs aren’t usually refrigerated and tea comes in two strengths: super-strong and insta-perm. The food is generally a bit sweeter than it is in the States, and whole grain anything is hard to find, unless it’s labeled “digestive,” which is a synonym for gut-wrenching.

Also, the food marketed at kids here is downright shameful: fruit jellies and “aerated chocolates” are swathed in colorful packages and displayed at knee-level on every aisle. And since the refrigerators in Scotland are the size of a dishwasher, Scottish kids have almost a daily opportunity to beg their mums for junk food! Emma and John have come home from school each day with little information about what they are actually doing in class, but lots to say about the various types of junk food that their new friends have been generous enough to share with them during “school dinner.” Yesterday, John came home and said that he and his seven friends (?) had a contest at dinner to see who could hold the super-sour sweet gumballs in their mouth the longest without spitting. I’ll give you one guess who won…