Pickled Politeness Part 2

In the last two weeks of living here, London has taught me that my definition of politeness was completely skewed. Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, I used the words “polite” and “friendly” interchangeably. But I’ve since discovered that the relationship between these two words is not synonymous, but rather symbiotic: an individual can be polite without being friendly, however, he cannot be friendly without being in some way polite. This distinction for me had been elucidated over and over again in the wake of my recent move.

For instance, I have seen time and time again a very gentlemanly Londoner offer his seat on the tube to an elderly person. And I’ve also noticed that at a cocktail party, a proper Londoner will never take the last hors d'oeuvre. Textbook politeness. On the other hand, I’ve found that it is rather difficult to strike up a conversation with a Londoner, even after he/she has been polite to the point of zealous.

Comparatively, “polished” may not be the adjective used when describing a New Yorker’s etiquette, but you could very easily find a new friend in a stranger after only a few minutes. Perhaps that’s why those New York Moments I was talking about don’t feel so difficult to come by. A New Yorker may not offer his subway seat to a senior citizen, but he will happily start a long-winded conversation with the old bird while he’s comfortably sitting down. And a New Yorker will probably take the last spring roll at the buffet, but he will ask the person behind him first if it’s cool.

As you can clearly see, “politeness” and “friendliness” are two very different concepts. New Yorkers may be lacking in the politeness department, but their friendliness compensates because it can pass for ignorant charm.

With Londoners, it’s not quite so simple. Their etiquette and manners are impeccable – every door is held and every accommodation is offered – but Londoners must have very few friends. A bold statement, yes. And, yes, I do think that I am obliged to say it.

Why?

Because I am bitter. Hmph.

That’s right. I have been in this country for 12 days and roughly 18 hours and I have yet to make a single friend. What gives?! I am personable, outgoing, generally unhateable (I’ve been told). And in my personal experience, I don’t have trouble meeting people. But somehow I’ve spent nearly two weeks practically by myself and I am simply not used to it. I am about a week away from creating an imaginary friend whom I intend on naming something very British. Like Nigel.

But then sometimes I stop and give myself some credit. I’ve only been here a matter of days, and meeting people in a brand new city isn’t easy. Think about it: when was the last time you’ve had to make friends out of complete strangers? Kindergarten, that’s when (or maybe college. Kids can be so cruel…)

I think this whole politeness bit is a big tease. Should I not assume that because you gave up your seat at the bar for me that we aren’t meant to segue into small talk? Perhaps when I have human contact with someone aside from the waiters and the sales associates (who are paid to be nice to me, if you need to be reminded) I will feel differently.