What it’s like living as a British girl in Texas

I’m a British girl living abroad in Texas. Coming from the country that made Downton Abbey, perhaps I should have been prepared for the culture shock I experienced when I moved to the Lone Star State.

Despite Brits and Americans speaking the same language and being distant relatives, I found a substantial divide.

Here’s what I’ve noticed.

The accent

An English accent is worth its weight in gold in America, and especially Texas. It’s a fast pass to getting up to speed when arriving at a new College when you have no mates. Overwhelmed by the Southern charm, I was quickly invited to Sunday brunches, pool parties, birthday parties and drinks Down Town with close groups of friends who would rarely open their arms to a newbie with such enthusiasm.

Coming from a country known for its stiff upper lip, the friendliness of Americans was dazzling. Adopting the American eagerness, and ditching the cool grumpy British façade, I played the cards I was dealt and took advantage of my exotic accent.

College class

My British accent opened social doors, but it also called for unwanted attention in the lecture theatre. English university lecture culture dictates that students should sit down and shut up. Questions are only acceptable at the end and if you’re going to fall asleep, you can do so, but only in silence.

Class at the University of Texas demands interaction, active debate, and questions thrown at the professor throughout. Unlike the drowsy attention needed back at Edinburgh University where I used to study, I had to keep on my toes, in case I was asked my thoughts on the discussion.

Nervous enough about my first class at an American university, I was thrown into a baptism of fire when the professor asked for my opinion. As the quick shiver of panic came over me, I rashly pulled a comment together. Three words in, and the intrigued eyes of 40 other students zipped around. I was the mysterious foreigner that had somehow infiltrated their class.

First Game Day

I had succumbed to the diehard Longhorn spirit of my fellow students by first Game Day. To the dismay of my English mates on Snapchat, I had embraced UT’s burnt orange, buying most of the Co-op’s patriotic merchandise. Far from the distant association British students have with their university, I had embraced everything Longhorn. However, the enthusiasm I approached Game Day was going to bite me back quickly.

Taken by my new friends to a tailgate, I was unaware of the suspicion you should treat Gatorade punch. Excited by the free booze, I merrily drank the bright blue stuff. An hour later, I was feeling a lot worse for wear. Heart palpitations brought on by the intense sugar content and feeling extremely sick, I was determined to make it to my first ever American football game.

Gingerly arriving at the stadium, fireworks were being set off, the band played at full pelt, cheerleaders were doing flips and the largest flag in the world was being brought out. The excitement of the day had got too much. Having drunk more sugar that morning than I have ever consumed in my life, I had hit a wall and was defiantly dealing with a case of sugar shock.

Embarrassed of my naïve relationship with Gatorade, I quietly slipped away and took myself back to the apartment. Four hours later, everyone returned. Desperately trying to recover in bed, my heart was still punching out of my chest at serious rate. I will never again touch Gatorade punch!

Sixth Street

Clearly I hadn’t got Game Day stamina. American drinking culture was far more intense than my Edinburgh University education had prepared me for. I had entered the world of shooters and chasers. College drinking culture was about getting smashed, there was no casual social glass of red wine in a pub after lectures.

Like every American college and British university, there is a place were all the students head. In Austin, the student’s playground is Sixth Street. To all Brits, Sixth Street is America’s Malia strip. It is sweaty, tacky and grimy, and a guaranteed class night that you will struggle to remember.

One of the first nights bonding with my new American roommates I came victim to tequila on Sixth Street. Having been offered one too many free shooters; we stumbled into an Uber home. I got out of the taxi, lay down on the sidewalk and went to sleep. Luckily my roommate was there to pick up the pieces. Kicked me awake and took me back to bed safe.

Halloween

The British approach to Halloween is often half-hearted. A little fake blood, and we’re ready to hit the clubs. Halloween celebrations at an American college are in a different league and demand another level of investment.

Embracing the American experience, I spent weeks planning the perfect outfit. My costume was unreal! Putting my standard last-minute eyeliner cat whiskers to shame, I was transformed into an all seeing, pink wigged, silver foiled alien.

Southern charm

Southern hospitality isn’t a myth. On my first day in the United States I experienced just how welcoming Texans can be. Landing in Austin after a 10 hour flight from London Heathrow, I turned up at my new apartment in West Campus to find Walmart hadn’t delivered my bed or mattress.

It suddenly hit me – I had no bed, no friends and a room in an apartment I shared with some random Americans. Exhausted and embarrassed, I watched my other roommates and what seemed like their family, extended family, sister’s boyfriends and brother’s girlfriends, bring trailer after trailer of stuff. I stood there solo with a wheelie bag.

Clearly looking like a vulnerable foreigner, one of my flatmates took pity and said I could share her bed until Walmart delivered the goods. Thank God for Southern hospitably.

Food

Texans are passionate about their BBQ. Every Uber driver will tell you their favourite haunt for sticky ribs or pulled pork. However what I wasn’t prepared for were the Texan twists that should just never exist.

On a night back from Sixth Street I ended up at the food trailers on 24th. Getting the midnight munchies, I took the plunge with my order from ATX Boudain Hut. Man v Food isn’t just on TV: I had just ordered a super-sized double donut pulled pork extravaganza of a meal. Swimming in fat, I consumed the whole basket. It was a culinary experience I won’t rush back to try.

Guns

Actually, let’s just not go there.

Austin City Limits Festival

Festivals are big in Britain. I’d like to think I am experienced festival fairy, having camped out for days in thick mud and partied until the early hours in monsoon-like rain. However, a festival in a country where it is guaranteed to be over 80 degrees was a novel experience.

Unlike the British festival, where you simply have to just stand outside your tent to get rehydrated by the rain, I quickly realised hydration was key to a successful ACL experience. Having spent the whole of the Saturday chilling in the sun, drinking beer by the Austin Ventures stage, hydration wasn’t at the forefront of my mind.

Four rows back from Drake, my roommate and I had got our timings right and found ourselves at the front of the action. Dancing with some hardcore fans, I was cutting some epic shapes. However my incompetence of hot country festivals quickly caught me up. Starting to feel very dizzy, I looked around and realised just how far we had got ourselves in. Beginning to panic, I turned green and began to sway back and forth.

Next thing I knew I was being dragged through thick crowds of people by my roommate and a stranger. Having bragged about all the festivals I had been to, I was a broken woman. Hot festivals are defiantly a different ballgame!

As a Brit in Texas, everything is foreign. But I am embracing the adventure and enjoying the strange situations I find myself in.