Brits are freaks - Greetings

I've been living in London for one month now. Maybe I should start to commit myself to something. So I decided to commit myself to daily blogging. That's a demanding commitment, but I'll do my very best to meet it. I've gathered quite a lot of stories in the past four weeks, but I'll try to focus on the now, since I'm supposed to be a journalist. I have a couple of stories up my sleeves, but I'll keep them for when my imagination runs dry.

So, where shall I start? Let's start with the obvious: greetings. How do people greet each other? Basic social skill, you learn it once your career as socialite begins, when you're around 2 or 3. But, once you cross the border, once you cross the Channel you have to rearrange your manners.

I was recently at the house-warming party of our neighbours. I barely even know one of the tenants, but we're neighbours, it's Saturday night, we're supposed to be kind to each other -you never know, when you run out of sugar you can knock on their door. So, I hardly know the tenant, but it's fine. Nobody knows anyone anyway. We're just a bunch of strangers, friends of friends, previous roommates, uni mates having casual conversations while sipping alcohol.

The night unfolds smoothly. When tired, my housemate and I leave. Alright. Easilier said than done. The guy I am talking to gets a little unnerved by my bad manners and asks me: "So, like... Are you just going to sneak out of the house like that without even saying bye?"
And quite frankly and openly I question him about English manners: "What do you guys do to say bye?" 'Cause usually the 'Hi' is shaking hands, and that's pretty universal. We managed to find an almost international agreement on that. But the possibilities with the 'Bye' are spreading.

I incidentally mention that in Italy we usually kiss each other. And what do I get? One of our nice neighbour, the very typical English bloke with braces, ginger hair and blooming spots on his face, gives me the most appalling look ever. I then point out that we generally give little pecks on the cheeks, or we rather pretend to give little pecks; it's more like just leaning close to each other's face. But no. He is disgusted. And with the appalled look still glued on his face he tells me: "No, no. A hug is enough with us."

Hence, I hug everybody and go home wondering: how come these Brits are so cold in their greeting manners -'cause a hug is the chilliest possible way to greet somebody, it's almost like you want to stab the other in the back- and seem bewildered by our warmer contact, when they welcome complete strangers in their homes and unashamedly get drunk, make a fool of themselves and have sex in the first bedroom available, careless of the fact that you may hear them while sipping your drink? Freaky Brits!