I feel that the most interesting part of travel is getting to observe, and hopefully know, the local people. In what ways are they different from me? How do they dress? What do they celebrate? What do they eat? These are some of the things that define the cultural of a people. Though many US citizens claim to descend from British stock, I find that in the little things that make up the tapestry of life, we are very different. I will attempt to point out some of these differences on this page. Be assured that these observations are not meant to be critical nor to judge one cultural as being superior to another. Neither are they to be construed as definitive. These are just things that I have observed with interest in the Yorkshire Dales.

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I see no one who appears to be thirty-something. Either they are dressed very stylish, are slim and wear makeup. or they are motherly looking. Perhaps it is the winter clothing that adds pounds to the shape. The women seem very comfortable with their appearance. The TV commercials are not screaming to buy this or that product to make one look 35 at age 50.

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Christmas decorations are going up in the shops and on the streets. Until very recently, there was no decorating in the homes other than the Christmas tree. Gradually this is changing. Many people credit American TV shows for much of that. There is a little tinsel garland being sold, but I can find no green garland to decorate my banister. Christmas bows are simple and flat not the huge multi-looped things we make in America. I have found no outside decorations. Wreaths are only used here for funerals.

On Sunday, I saw a truck moving slowly down the street and men were dropping off small Christmas trees in front of each business establishment. They were fresh evergreens with colorful bows tied onto the limbs. Later in the day, another crew came with ladders and put the trees high up on the walls in sockets such as are used to mount flagpoles so that the flag angles out toward the street. It is very cheerful to see so many trees as you look down the street. Many have little clear lights at night.

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Halloween is being imported to Britain via TV. Much to the consternation of parents, their children want to go from door to door to beg for candy. It seems ironic that when Americans are trying to get children to give up trick or treat in favor of safer parties and community events, they are just getting started here.

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Since I am supposed to be restricting my intake of sugar and carbohydrates in an effort to prevent diabetes, I find it amazing (and very tempting) to see so many bakeries and candy shops. It seems there is one or the other every one-half block. What here is called “cake” is not the same as in the US. The closest equivalent would perhaps be date nut bread. Here there is breakfast cake, tea cake, Dundee cake, and a cake named for each region or county. They are all very similar. There are dried fruits…raisins, figs, sultanas, peel, etc added to a spicy, sweet dough. The combination make the difference in the name. Some have nuts. Dundee cake has almonds on top. All are forbidden to me.

What amazes me is that the incidences of diabetes doesn’t seem to be high enough to alarm anyone. It would seem that with the consumption of so much sugar and carbohydrates, it would be an epidemic. Maybe, I am just jealous.

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Accents in Skipton seem more varied, for a small town, than any I have encountered in the US. Some of the people say they have trouble understanding one another. Imagine what I am doing! Even on TV the accents are very pronounced. I think that in America all TV persons are sent to the same “lose your regional accent” school. It makes them easier to understand nationwide, but haven’t we lost some of the delicious flavor?

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There are two large supermarkets in town, but there are also several butcher shops. As this is sheep country, a lot of mutton is sold. However, the signs do no say mutton, they say sheep.

One day as I was walking down a ginnel, I passed a butcher shop that had about twenty pheasants hanging by their necks, some out by the sidewalk and some inside in the window. They were beautiful. For an incoherent moment I considered getting one for Thanksgiving dinner. But I regained my senses and realized that meant plucking, dressing, and cooking a beautiful bird. I would love to have some of the feathers for decorating, but not that way.

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Crossing the street here is a fascinating challenge. There are some aids to doing this. At busy crossings, which may or may not be at a corner, there is a round yellow globe on a pole. If you press the button on the pole, the lights blinks, a horn beeps ,and the traffic must stop. The pedestrian has the right of way.

At less popular crossings, there is a crosswalk painted on the street and an island of safety in the middle of the street with yellow posts on each end. When the traffic is clear to allow you to cross to the island, you go. Then you wait until the traffic allows you to go across the other lane. Sometimes the cars will stop and motion you to proceed if more than one person is waiting to cross.

Jaywalking seems to be allowed anywhere you have the nerve to try it. For any crossing, the biggest problem for an American is remembering which way the traffic is going. I play it safe and look both ways in each lane.

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