I first came to the UK in 1990 for a study abroad programme in Bath. I was a journalism student and had never been outside the US except for a trip to Niagara Falls when I was a kid and the obligatory Tijuana bar hopping over the border in college. I thought living in the UK would be an adventure.
I was placed with a family with two girls; an 18-month-old named Marie and a four-year-old named Emma.
Immediately I was fascinated with the language differences. I was quickly comparing the American version of British words with Emma – jumpers are sweaters, trousers are pants, pants are knickers. Hee hee hee, isn't this fun.
At dinner, we continued the conversation, she thought it was hilarious. I was about to tell her about jello, which is jelly, and that Americans love peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. I thought she would find this particularly amusing.
