Queuing is serious business

Contrary to the streets and subways of America, queuing here is taken very seriously. From the time the Brits are little they have been ingrained with the notion that cutting a queue is forbidden. This is my daily exposure to the queue phenomenon encountered on my journey home from work. Every day from the hours of 5pm - 7pm these serpentine creatures self-create, streaming from all entries. 

Although I was born with hips made for the American way of loading and unloading, it is kind of nice really, not to have to worry about boxing people out in order to push your way on the train. Very orderly indeed. 

 

As an aside, weather here the past two weekends has been gorgeous! 60s and sunny! How does that feel, snow-covered Northeastern America?

English word of the day: curtain twitching = spying, eavesdropping, peeping tom. Apparently along with queuing, curtain-twitching is a big part of the British culture!!

Are you ready for some football??

So for my first weekend in London I decided to do something very American. I went and saw the Chicago Bears play the TB Bucs at Wembley Stadium. I guess I decided I wasn’t entirely ready to leave the states and all that I associated with them yet.

Expecting there was no way to un-americanize American football, I met some fellow Yankees at a central tube stop and we were on our way. Welp, much to my chagrin, I was made highly aware of just how far away from home I really was. Turns out you can take the game out of the states, but with it goes most of the states! Reminders that I was, in fact, not in Kansas anymore…

1.     English people don’t really know how to tailgate. In fact I’m not even sure there was a parking lot, let along cars with large enough “boots” to become tailgates as we know them? Everyone came by public transport – this will become important later – and most fans only showed up shortly before kickoff (after visiting many a pub of course). LUCKILY, NFL to the rescue to set up the area seen below. Mind you this was taken once we had our American fill; I promise you it was packed with foreign revelers donning every team jersey in the league. Typically American of ESPN though to come and swoop in mother-ship style to impart the American knowledge and show them how to properly spectate the American game on their own turf. They even handed out beer helmets!! Ok maybe they didn’t go that far.

 

 

2.     It was weird seeing so many people root for some pretty lousy teams. And they were so invested!! AND rooting for the Bucs! It was weird, and I’m sure had a lot to do with the free paraphernalia the “home” team left in our seats, plastering them with pirate booty. I must say, however, I was quite pleased to see that anyone who owned anything NFL-related wore it to the game. It was a big NFL melting pot. I was just sad I left my Chrebet jersey at home.

3.     I’m pretty sure a majority of those at the game had no idea what was going on. Not to mention that the Bears threw a touchback in there! The collective “huh?” from the crowd was deafening.  These teams were really there to give the Brits a show. Trust me my English mates, that was a rarity. 

 

 

4.     Fantasy Football is kind of a big deal over here, and maybe that’s because betting is legal so they take it in all forms – equal opportunity betters? Even though the kids next to me had not much of a clue what was happening, they could tell me every player on the field and his stats for the past 6 weeks. Impressive.

5.     Fish and Chips at the stadium! Now that’s just silliness.

6.     Okay, and now for the most horrifying realization of them all…they used horses as crowd control. I know this doesn’t sound all that novel, if you’ve seen a Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade or a Yankee Ticker Tape Celebration you have seen this technique employed. But they actually used them. More than just a scare tactic, these beasts became the turnstiles that corralled the crowd to the tube at the end of the game! And you all know how much I LOVE these larger than life, scary, crush-you-with-one-misstep animals…picture my excitement. The official attendance was announced at halftime, something to the effect of 76,868 so you can imagine all those people heading out at once destined for the same tube station to ride on trains that resemble miniature Disney monorails. Even though we caught the turnstiles in the open position, I did see one inebriated chap walk straight into the chest of black beauty, not sure if it even registered with him. Here’s a view from the good side…

If you look closely you can see the horses turned sideways blocking the crowd from moving forward.

Scary, eventful, all around great first weekend.

English word of the day: Crisps = chips of any flavor! Or “chip-ays” as someone I know lovingly refers to them.

Corn cup anyone?

Magic Corn cup! On the streets of London. How much more American can you get than corn off the cob in a cup! PLUS they have toppings!

I opted for the Sour Cream and Onion flavor (no one is surprised) this time. I might just go for some thai curry sauce next time! Options are endless…and yet so strange.

Good for you too apparently:

Natural Goodness 

Magic Corn retains a level of crunchiness and juiciness that’s unsurpassed. That’s because we’ve developed a unique method for extracting the whole kernel of corn from the cob, as opposed to the faster method of simply cutting the kernels from the cob. Once the kernels have separated from the cob, they’re immediately frozen within the hour to seal in all the natural nutritional goodness. No preservatives are added, of course. 

And that’s because we want you to taste only the corn and nothing else but the corn.

....seems strange then to encourage you to add a variety of flavors to the corn, in the end masking the flavor of corn entirely. 

 

Streets of London

In my first official, full weekend in London I was almost stiff-armed on the tube.

Here’s what happened. Leaving this really cool cocktail bar run by a couple of mates - as a sort of fun endeavor that they didn’t seem to take too seriously, but where the drinks were to die for and the pace was just right after the crazy Friday night we had where I learned first-hand about the true English drinking culture - we are walking to the tube so we could all go our separate ways and out of nowhere I hear;

“BAILEY!!!!! STIFF-ARM WATCH OUTTTT!”

Not knowing how to react to an exclamation like that I stay put and look straight ahead. Before I know it my friend physically picks me up (hernia, I’m sure) and moves me over as I see some guy come barreling through the sea of people with his arm extended and ready for battle. Who does that??? These people are nuts! But I guess they take their crowd control/tube journeys seriously.

English word of the day: Flatmates = Roommates and NOT THE OTHER WAY AROUND. You see, your flatmates share a flat with you….your roommates share the actual bedroom. You get the drift.

The Queen of Hoxton vs. The Book Club

It was my first weekend night out on the town and I knew I was in store for a good one when I looked up the place my Harvard friends told me to meet them at. The Book Club:

Bringing together wit, wisdom and enough food and drink to see you through from early breakfast to a nightcap at last orders at the bar, The Book Club offers a cultural revolution to the East End’s social scene. The Book Club fuses lively, creative events and late night drinking seven days a week with an alternative menu of brain-teasing and mind-expanding thought for food in the form of workshops, talks, cultural showcases, parties, ping pong, pool and the best in new music.

Typical Harvard, typical…

The only challenge was getting there. Trying to limit my transfers because I hate the triple transfer, I got off a few stops earlier, which lent itself to a bit of a walk. Fine, it was nice out, not raining, would be fun to explore this part of the city a bit more from aboveground. Three wrong turns later and I saw a neon lit sign and a long line with fun music oozing through the window cracks. Unfortunately I couldn’t really tell what the sign said, need to get my eyes checked I guess, but I didn’t think this place was my final destination. I kept walking a little bit and finally asked a stranger if they knew how to get to The Book Club. He laughed in my face and said it’s right behind me, directing me back to the neon oasis. I gave in and went back, thinking maybe my friends were inside at the bar and not waiting outside for me like they said they would be. I paid my cover, and bee lined it for the bathroom, sending a quick “I’m here” text to the people I was meeting. Once my bladder was emptied and we went through the charade of see-saw texts saying I’m standing near x, or meet me at y, and after I had covered every inch of the place, I decided there was no way we were in the same bar.

Marching straight up to the bouncer I say, “Excuse me is this the book club?” Long pause, puzzled look…”No, never heard of it.”

Out the door I went, straight to the nearest taxi stand and I was off, only to have him drive me around the corner to the real Book Club. See map.

Moral of the story, my phone’s gps is the worst, and if something doesn’t appear to be what you’re looking for, most likely it’s not. For a visual…

                                 The Book Club                                 vs.                       The Hoxton Queen

This is where I was trying to go...

This was where I went originally...it looked very different in the nighttime!!

I eventually figured it out, have no fear.

English word of the day: Advice slip = receipt. Here I was trying to take out money at the "cash machine" to pay my nice taxi driver for bringing me around the block and I get to a screen that mockingly asks if I want an advice slip. Hell, I could have used some advice BEFORE I went into some sketchy bar hoping to find friends...but thanks for offering.  

Droids and Maps

So I got a new phone the other day. After a few valuable workdays of internet research and talking to my London-technology-guru (Thanks Glenn!), I set out to bite the bullet. I heard the actual process of picking out and paying for the phone, in a very un-American way was extremely speedy, like 3 seconds or less. I was skeptical. But I set out anyway. The one service provider I needed for the “best plan” was allegedly only a train ride away from work. I set out to navigate the maze that is Canary Wharf Estate…see below…(and I know it looks like a straight line, that’s what I thought, but it is nothing of the sort!) 

 

There are like 200 levels and even more twists and turns in there, I swear! So, whatever, I finally found the rail line I needed. I thought that was the hard part….

I pop up like a little prairie dog, or turtle-head, whatever metaphor you so choose, with no clue where I am. Turns out I had broken my number one rule too, “Thou shalt not leave home without the A-Z London Street Guide book.” So here I am, middle of The City, trying to find an obscure phone store, and believe me it was obscure, because I asked many a passerby and they had no idea what I was talking about. Language barrier I presume. All the while, I'm phoneless!! Using the girl scout skills I never obtained, thanks mom (knowing me, I probably protested the stupid jumper and sash and that’s why I was never enrolled, so I take that back mom), I knew I had to go north, so I read the sun! And then I walked straight into the nearest Deutche Bank to ask for directions because they seemed friendly. Two free printed maps, four more “I’m a lost American” stops, and I finally found it. 

And true to tale, in and out in less time than it took me to explain to the Kebab man what I was looking for in the first place! Fully equipped and phoned, I typed in my next address and went back to work. Only took two hours (nice long UK lunch break) and I was back at work and in touch with reality.

Now, if only I could get used to using the Droid I’d be all set. If my mom can do it so can I! (I just need to work on these fat fingers…)

English word of the day: Cakes = cookies, or really any type of sweets. Guy across the cubicle from me brought in “cakes” which I heard and thought it was extravagant to bring in multiple cakes, only to turn around and see a tin of bite-size cookie things – picture snack bite sized 7-layer bars. Megs, your specialty.

Baby on board

In the annals of weird observations on the streets of London, today while heading to work I noticed a woman wearing a pin that read;

Apparently this is Transport for London’s (like the mbta) way of bringing back chivalry. The ingenious plan is to encourage Tube passengers to give up their seats to mothers-to-be without having been asked to do so. As if a woman with a protruding child inside her body isn’t enough to encourage someone to willingly relinquish their coveted seat on a long subway ride…these silly pins have been put in place.

I can’t even necessarily get on board with the signs that women put in their rear windshields, let alone when they plaster them to their chests. I guess the British culture lends itself to fear of offense, and men would rather be spoon-fed the confirmation that yes, indeed this woman is pregnant and should be offered a seat.

“Mind the Bump” research justifies that the pins are designed for women in hopes of giving the impregnated the power of voice that will encourage them to ask for that seat – and I guess also to serve as a congratulatory prize so that all know they are in fact with child (and not just packing on some holiday weight). It’s the suffrage of the subway.  Moral of the story…British selfishness front and center here, and their “solution” to help curb it.

What would my feminist American friends say about this one…

English word of the day: Flapjack = no translation!! My coworker was on the phone and told an American he just rang her while she has a mouthful of flapjack. When asked she couldn’t describe it. I looked at it trying to assess the situation and offer up a word…I mean it’s kind of like a granola bar but chewier and syrupier (yep that’s a word). I will work on finding the American equivalent and report back.

Acculturation

There are some things I don’t think I’ll ever get used to over here. For starters, I almost tackled a guy as he got out of his silly English car this morning in the middle of traffic. Like, whooooaaaa buddy, you can’t just get out of your car and leave it in the middle of the road, I don’t care where you have to be and when! Then I slowly realized... left = passenger. Right, play it cool, you knew that. I don’t know though, I’m not sure I’ll ever stop thinking the cars are driving themselves with the occupant just along for the ride.

Another thing that’s wacky, their stupid keyboards! Please see the miniature sized what I think is supposed to symbolize a SHIFT key, smaller than my pinky. I can’t even begin to tell you how many times I plug that weird key next to the up arrow instead of the "shift". Don’t even get me started on all the other misplaced keys. And I’m not even a good typer to begin with so imagine what this is doing to my typing self esteem.

;my apologies in advance if my emails to you end up looking like this with an abundance of ;;;;; in place of capital letters. 

Things I will get used to…and perhaps the best revelation of my first day at work…

This doesn't even give it justice...

I'm talking floor to ceiling on this sucker!

A FREE COFFEE machine in the office. Coming from an office that doesn’t even provide water cups for our water cooler which is more often out of service than in, let alone a coffee machine with pretty white mugs and a multitude of options. Customs is going to love me when I try and shove that sucker into my suitcase to ship home. Not just a normal coffee machine but you plug in the numbers for what type of hot beverage you would like AND how you would like it – I’m talking how many milks and sugars, steam, froth, temperature, additives, etc!  PLUS you have the options of Tea, Cappuccino, Espresso, Latte, Mocha, Hot Cocoa, or hot water (sort of feel bad for hot water right here. who wants to be hot water in this choosing frenzy?). See visual to understand the Porsche of Coffee Mates. This makes my Keurig look like a Skoda. (that’s British humour right there, you wouldn’t understand. Look it up.)

One more thing I will get used to…cheese rooms at grocery stores! I’m talking a whole room dedicated to the beautiful makings of the creamy pasteurized goodness that I so much adore. Without fail, every time I walk into a grocery store I gravitate toward the amazingness of these rooms. Sort of like Disney World, great place to visit but I wouldn't want to live there. This is a mini one, but spectacular nonetheless.

 Jealous yet?

English word of the day: Dropping hose = Fire Hose? I think? Saw one on my tube ride home. 

Cailin and Cronin, this one's for you.

No caption necessary.

Adventures at the Grocery Store

After stopping in a few grocery stores that were pretty far from my home to peruse the goods, I thought I had the process down and was ready for my first shopping trip. Here’s what I went out in hopes of finding:

Grocery List:

·      Yogurt

·      Bread

·      Cheese

·      Deli meats

·      Salad

·      Dressing

·      Orange juice

·      Wine

·      Oatmeal

What I came home with:

·      Yogurts in the flavors of blackcurrant, rhubarb, and gooseberry. This seems like some sort of Willy Wonka trick. But if I taste those gooseberries and they taste like shnozberries we’ll know the Uumpas are soon to follow. Really, what is this, the Honeydukes Express? And if so, where is my butterbeer?

·      Wholemeal Pita pockets – I think that means whole wheat?

·      Sliced chicken and ham – packaged? I’m afraid this will taste like spam but it was my only option, figured it was worth a shot

·      Jalapeno and roasted red pepper hummus, normal enough.

·      Carrot batons – to dip in my hummus, obviously.

·      Porridge that I’m hoping is the equivalent of oatmeal

·      Rocket = arugula salad, Caesar dressing to make me feel at home, and Traditional English Dijon Mustard to feel British, and because I need to know what makes Dijon mustard traditionally English.

·      Cheese, Sundried Tomato, and Bacon tortellini (where the bacon is actually ham. Okay, that doesn’t make that sound any more normal…) + Sundried Tomato, Basil, and Garlic Tomato Sauce

·      Fanta Orange. Everyone was doing it.

·      Blood orange juice, yummmm.

·      Grapes, okay that’s pretty normal

BUT I FORGOT TO GET CHEESE AND WINE! What have I become? Who am I? That should have been the first thing I picked up. And on top of it all, I missed the street to turn down for my flat. So I ended up here.

I’d say it was a win. Pizza out of a buggy, my dream come true.

Such is life.

English word of the day: Depiladores = RAZORS! They even had Venus Depiladores! (Okay, this one might be more Spanish than British but they seem to use it in their Pharmacies as normal.)

And it begins...

The London adventure begins. Here is a short list of things I have learned thus far on my journey, some of them you will find quite comical, and those are certainly the ones we can file in the “only Bailey would get herself into…” folder, others you just might find quite useful for your future journeys. From the top!

1.     Hard luggage = not as durable as you’d think. At least not when you fill it to the max. As you will see in the picture below, within the first 10 minutes of the journey from my now ex-Boston apartment to my future London flat, my 50 pound/$60 dollar overweight surcharge of a bag hit the cement and exploded. However, this turned into quite possibly the best turn of events of the evening. Upon hitting the pavement my tears immediately dried and I snapped into action mode. I was off to the races, and thanks to my mom for suggesting I go early to the airport, before we knew it the underwear and bras that inhabited the container were securely taped in and hidden via the work of a lovely ticketing agent’s masterful and ingenious handiwork consisting of bag tags and “Checked Baggage” tape. Side note, I later saw this woman again at the gate where she shuttled me by name into a separate line for boarding – I think she thought I would just look at someone else’s luggage and it would pop open. 

2.     Wearing clothes you don’t care about on a plane is a good idea. Luckily it was white wine and not red, but it ended up all down my leg. Surprisingly enough, it was not my own!! Contain your gasps. Sitting in wet yoga pants for the entirety of an international flight was not all that glamorous, but it could have been worse, i.e. wet jeans. Yuck.

3.     You should always travel with a roll of toilet paper, or at least a few Kleenex. Why, you ask? Well, after the 30 minute sojourn from the airport to pick-up the keys to my new flat, this kid needed to go. After figuring out the correct Harry Potter keys that would open my 3 locks to get in, I was eager to try out my new toilet only to find I was unprepared for that type of mission. So I quickly dropped my things and I was off again in search of the nearest convenience store. After popping in and out of a rather sketchy place (no pun intended) that I will probably not revisit in the near future, unless something as dire as this once again arises, I was back to my place, safe and sound. Note to self, leave a roll of TP in the bathroom for my future tenant, that’s good karma for you.

4.     Heed the caution of the very descript street instructions which remind you at every street crossing to “<- Look Left“ or “Look Right ->” I like to think these signs were put in place specifically for the bobble-head Americans who can’t seem to break their old habits.

5.     Off to find internet. So far, journey is not as successful as the TP run. One cappuccino and two ciders later, bar number three is failing to provide viable internet results. I must confess, by the end of this quest for internet I will be quite pissed. (see what I did there?) Off to spot number four. I will find skype by the end of this day, mark my words.

English word of the day: Wheel Clamping = a boot in America. That one's for you Jon!

Cheers!