London through the eyes of a Newbie

In the continuation of the Bailey-Kills-Her-Parents-in-Walking-Tour-of-London saga, I want to take you through some of the highlights. Bare in mind, this is my uncensored retelling, and honestly, you just can’t make this stuff up.

Brace yourselves for this shocker, BUT this was actually my dad’s first time in Europe, and had he not recently embarked on his latest mission to find the bluest, warmest, cleanest water in the world where he plans to build his retirement home, I’m pretty sure those passport pages would have been completely naked. I mention this because marveling at the architecture’s antiquity, experiencing the English traditions, and taking in the history all around us, were made all the more enjoyable because we were able to do it through his very own new-to-Europe eyes.

 The colors of Big Ben were brighter…

(Dad: They must have JUST cleaned and polished that)

 

The facades more ornate….

(Dad: Unbelievable the detail they put in there!)

And the history richer than our little brains could handle…

(Dad: I really wish I had paid more attention in History class)

Given that everything he knew about Europe came from the Travel Channel, (which I was going to call and cancel on their TV if I heard one more time that “This looks just like Germany!” or “This reminds me of Rome”….YOU’VE NEVER BEEN THERE!!), and the fact that I might not ever get him to sit on a plane again for seven hours, I tried to pack in everything! EVERY-THING. See itinerary below.

 

A few highlights of the trip:

1. Tower of London – great tour, if anyone comes to London this a must-do. We loved hearing about the Kings and Queens that passed through the Tower gates, most never to walk back out in one cohesive piece. We loved envisioning how the Tower grew and was added to and changed over time. We loved hearing the legends of the Tower lore. All of it was amazing. To the point that my dad consistently kept this venue in his top three favorite things in London – although it was not without internal strife as the days wore on and we kept seeing more incredibly old things that rivaled the Tower, all of which challenged his ability to pick just one favorite event.

2. Markets, Markets Everywhere, and ALWAYS a bite to eat – now I know my father well enough to know that this was going to be a huge hit in his book. I planned to take him to all my favorite markets on all the best days. This led us to Portobello Road for some German sausages (“Just like the one’s in Germany…”), Greenwich Market for shrimp tempura and dim sum (okay this one doesn’t really scream Greenwich, but it was outdoor meats on sticks, so he was happy), Camden for freshly fried, greasy, sugary donuts, Covent Garden for looking at polish samplings and breads and sweets (we were full at this point), and Borough Market for cheeses (we decided there was always room for cheese).  I love the availability of the outdoor markets and the freshness of everything there – which made my dad acknowledge the fact that with these markets he would never cook. EVER! Luckily my mom kept control of the purse strings during these outings.

3. One Man, Two Guvnors – a British comedy. I bought the parents tickets to see this show based on rave reviews in many of the London newspapers. Not really taking the time to think about the concept of a “Governor” in English terms, foreign to us Americans, we set out to see our play and excitedly sat front row for one of James Corden’s last shows in this theatre. The slapstick, traditional farce of a show was so traditionally British that had us a little confused at the beginning, but once you got into it they had us in stitches. A lot of the jokes toed the line, and often times surpassed it in terms of what would be allowed in the states, and I will say a lot of the Cricket/Football references went over our heads, but we had a great night and loved every minute of it. It was something different. Will be interesting to see how they adapt it for the Americans as it comes to New York sometime soon!

4. Boat Cruise down the Thames – or what was actually a HIGH SPEED MOTORBOAT ADVENTURE. I was over the whole sightseeing, leisurely float down the Thames with all the history on each side, and then the slow u-turn for you to only come back and experience it all again going the other way. No. I took my parents on the RIB London Voyage Experience. Maximum occupancy on the boat was 12 and we were equipped with life preservers and ponchos in case we got wet. And we were told it was not for those with back problems or heart conditions (we snuck my dad on anyway) and cautioned to hold on “rather tightly” as soon as we emerged from the no wake zone. From there it was a race past Canary Wharf to Greenwich and back, only we weren’t technically racing anyone, but if we were, we certainly would have won. London’s speed boat experience was a fun one. Glad my mom is still talking to me after I dragged her on this one. 

5. Spending time with the family! Although it was cramped as we all clown-carred our way into my flat every night, I wouldn’t have had it any other way. Given our schedule, you can see we were never really home long enough to mind it, but I’m glad we did get to decompress and discuss the happenings of each day as a family every night.

It was a fun adventure all around, albeit exhausting. Maybe I do have a future in a second career as a trip planner/tour guide. What do you think parents? Most exhausting “vacation” you’ve had in a while? Thought so.

English word of the day: Cheery-bye-bye = no translation. In fact this isn’t even a phrase at all! This, my friends, is what my dad thought they would all be saying over here in London. And since they weren’t he vowed that they would be before I knew it…luckily we kept his usage of it to a minimum while here. 

Oh yea, and I think we found next year's Christmas card...

Eggstraodinary, eggceptional, EGGTASTIC!

In the middle of Bailey’s Tour of London, after my dad got his much sought after ham and cheese crepe (nothing like the ones Awat and I got in Paris!) on our way to see the changing of the guards – we’re super tourists I know – we smacked chest first (yes chest first, to give you the full visual of just how large we’re talking here) into this larger than life, incredible, non-edible, fully painted, glorious EGG. Upon closer examination it turns out this is just one of 209 Lady Gaga like imperial eggs strategically placed around London as part of the Fabergé London Easter Egg Hunt.

Not ones to turn down a challenge, this became a new pastime of ours as we toured the city.

It was a very pleasant reminder that Easter is just around the corner! Visit the website to find out more about all of the fun details, or to gain inspiration for a city near you. Honestly, I think all major cities should recreate this fun-filled, family event. The 40-day hunt for all 200+ eggs is just another reminder that religion in this highly Christian country is so out in the open on display for all to partake, pun intended.

 

 

We didn’t capture them all but we were on hyper alert as we walked the city. It was always a welcomed surprise to come by a new and exciting one. We really did love them all equally, bizarro ones included – but we typically made my dad examine those first for fear of unsuspecting Gloryholes!

I couldn’t help but be reminded of all the childhood years spent dying Easter Eggs, seemingly never in the same place twice with family all over the country and softball weekends moving us from one Easter location to the next. Where to this year for Easter? Italy of course! I wonder if the House of Fabergé made it all the way to Italy’s Lake district? Perhaps floated an unwanted egg down the river in a basket…

 

Mixing religions there aren’t I? What can I say, I only made it to 1^st grade of my Episcopalian elementary school, what do you expect?

 Let the game begin!

 For my London friends, I’ll race you to the finish! Here’s a hint, check out the 12 zone maps, the more eggs you find, the more chance you stand of winning a fabulous prize: The Diamond Jubilee Egg!

English word of the day: Since we’re talking chickens and eggs here I came across this terms in conversation with a colleague, one that I probably should have known, and I’m sure have heard in the past, but the popular reference to “Hen Night” as a UK traditional metaphor for a Bachelorette Party. I like the tit for tat with Stag night vs. Hen Night used in the UK, well played.

Spitalfields Market

As I moonlight as a tour guide during my parents visit, I figured I’d post this well overdue trip to Spitalfields Market. If everyone is still standing at the end of “Bailey’s Tour of London” (please email me in advance for rates and availability, and plan to bring your favorite walking shoes!) I will detail their visit – but let it be known, they were on a very strict excel timesheet of activities. More to come on that…for now let’s journey back in time a bit to the weekend after the big storm.

Finally a break in the cold weather, I guess I now have to resume my running “regimen.” I decided I wanted to make it a nice long one on a sunny Sunday morning. I chose the route carefully, along the tube line of course, just in case I decided that was enough for me! The end goal – Spitalfields Market! I had heard amazing things about their market, and even better things about their nearby infamous Brick Lane Indian food. Seeing as it was circa 10am by the time I got there, I decided to do the market first and wait for a more respectable hour to try my hand at curry.

 

I got to the market (7 miles later, and a few internal battles with myself as to whether or not I should give up and get on the tube) right as they were setting up shop. Or so I thought. The clientele was a little scruffier than I imagined and a lot of the “treasures” were coming from garbage bags that seemed to have fallen from trucks beholden of some less than legal wares. It was like a EURO Canal Street, complete with your whispering vendors telling you the real goods were just behind the truck if I were to follow him a ways down the street.

After giving it a few more blocks, chalking it up to it being the European way, I realized it wasn’t getting much better the farther I went, and this was certainly no market I had been expecting. Stop in place.  U-turn. Out of there.

So I finally found my way to the real market and began my walk from stall to stall. This place had everything (legally) for sale! Something for everyone!

Yum yums for Kate (on her birthday!!!)

Fancies for Annie! (This may have been were the original in fact came from!)

And a very special little purchase I made which had my very own post code on a card holder – a necessity for my daily commute and Oyster Card holder/work ID. It's cooler thank it looks. Hand stitched from the pages of a London A-Z Guide. 

 

English word of the day: Lorry = truck. Like the ones that housed the stolen wares of Spitalfield Canal Street sidewalks. 

Back to the spreadsheet grind...my parents should have invested in pedometers.

First snow, the BIG FREEZE, and treacherous travel

News channels with 24-7 Superbowl hype or BBC TV with 24-7 “SEVERE” winter weather warnings…which of the two evils would you choose?

Tis true, it does in fact snow in London proper. A scenario, which, apparently is cause to shut down the entire city! Perhaps it is my fault for ignoring the warnings that were issued on the tube over the PA, at work via corporate emails, on the telly breaking into the news, and on some of my favorite British blogs, but all of these warnings were only calling for around 5cm in the city (2 inches my metrically challenges friends), 5cm MAXIMUM! The “storm” started off looking like this nice serene first snowfall…and I thought, oh how nice and British.

And it was endearing to find people roaming about the streets making street angels in the dusting that covered the road, grown men and women sticking out their tongues to catch the falling flakes. It was like these people had never seen snow before! I was appreciative of the naivete that characterized the first snowfall, and somewhat scorned the Bostonian nonchalance of trudging through 4-foot snow banks to get a cup of Dunks on a Saturday morning. As the snow continued to fall, and the men, women, and children reverted back to primary school snow days, I was somehow talked into preparing myself to make the trek south of the river to go to a friend’s birthday party followed by a night out in good old Clapham.

Clad in what I would hardly call “snow appropriate” attire, I set out through the centimeters of white stuff to get to the tube. Getting there was fine, but again I heard grumblings in the station about how they were already starting to see delays and it’s only going to get worse. Again, I ignored. After all I was Infernos bound! You don’t let a little snow stand in the way of you and London’s Greatest Disco! Off I went, and didn’t look back.

Since we started early, two of us decided we were going to try and also get an early jump on the getting home situation and try to catch the tube before it stopped running. Or so we thought. We both made it to our first train to take us to the good side of the river Thames, and parted ways while I headed to make my connection. There I was, sanding on the platform with 50+ people, and the TFL makes an announcement that, you know what, this line I need is no longer running, and we should just go ahead and find alternate transportation. What?!? It’s well past a respectable hour and I’m only at point B on the map below, and I need to get to E where my nice warm bed awaits. As a self-proclaimed tube extraordinaire, I just easily switch to another line and await the next train that will bring me closer to my final destination. 10 minutes. 20 minutes. 30 minutes go by. By this time there are about 100+ people on this new platform waiting for the train they say is coming momentarily. It finally arrives 45 minutes later, and of course it’s not the one that will take me all the way home, but I can get closer, so I sardine in and settle in for what I assume is going to be a long ride. Luckily for me, I can’t say everyone in the car would agree, but luckily, the train decided that a lot of the stops on the line are just not suitable for stopping given the “adverse weather conditions,” AKA 2 inches of snow on the tracks. Before I know it I was at the closest stop to my home I could feasibly get to via tube, point C, and it’s time to look for a cab. Of course there were none to be found… 

I set out walking to try and get myself in a position to flag one down. Feeling all Jo March-indignant as I walked through the snow to get anywhere warm, I had the ingenious idea to duck into a hotel to have the concierge call me a cab. I was desperate. What would you know? No cabs running at this time. Back to the streets.

Walking, walking, walking (only on well-lit streets, don’t worry mom and dad!) I spot a man disembarking a cab a few blocks up. SPRINTING I catch my new best friend, Cabbie. Pleading with him to drive me home I promise him a serious tip if he will bring me the rest of the way. Let it be known it was at point D I was finally rescued by my own little RMS Carpathia and I was on my way, of course not without a struggle…

Cabbie – “Lovey, I really should not be driving on these roads.”

Me – “You’ll be fineeeeeee just a little bit further” (There isn’t even enough snow to make tire tracks!)

Cabbie – “They said they were going to salt, I don’t see any salt”

Me – “Yea, you would think they would have prepared better for this.” (You don’t see any salt because there is no ice or snow to put the salt on!)

Cabbie – “I’m not going to be able to make this turn, I’ll have to let you out here”

Me – “That’s fine, thank you, get home safely.” (No big deal, I already walked 2 miles in this, what’s another 50 feet! Weenie Cabbie!)

Lesson learned, when they predict even the slightest accumulation of snow, I will be nowhere near the southern side of the river, and I certainly won’t be putting any of my good friends the cabbies in such “grave danger.”

English LESSON of the day: In light of the snowy, chilly weather I decided to make myself a cup of hot cocoa, only I decided to do a little experiment. Getting a little greedy and overly gluttonous I wanted to make my hot cocoa with milk instead of water, and seeing as my electric teakettle boiled water so quickly, why not use it for my milk? WRONG! It worked a little too quickly and I ended up with a burnt teakettle bottom and my whole flat smelling like candy floss (see previous post for definition). I was actually pleased to find out that burnt milk smells kind of nice! It could have been worse. But I did ruin my hot cocoa.

Velvet robes, sundials, and gardens – so what!?

This weekend marked my first excursion to the English “countryside.” When I told my manager I was venturing out to Hampton Court, home of Henry VIII’s famous Hampton Court Palace he said, oh I’ve heard of that, there are a lot of people in costumes there. “Costumes?” I thought. Red flag number one. So I was planning to meet up with one of my friends from school who moved out to Hampton Court about two months ago – red flag number two, she has lived down the street from the palace for a while now and had not yet gone inside. I disembarked the train an hour and a half later – I should get serious friend points for this one by the way – and I was there. We walked through the town (by town I mean street) and got a quick bite to eat before making our way toward the palace. After somehow getting conned into buying a Joint Membership (It was cheaper they told us! For when we come back! Right…), we went in to sign up for the group tour. Upon entering the tour office we noticed long rows of hanging wardrobes filled with all colors and sizes of velvet robes. Red flag number three. See exhibit A, I stole this family photo from the web, but honestly these are the people we were with. 

 

No way were we putting those on, instead we wanted to check out the Members Only room, one of the many perks that came with our joint membership. Some perk that was! After entering the secret code we opened the door to strange smells, families posted up in isolated rooms, and a kitchen complete with a 50p hot chocolate machine. As a member, I felt there was no way I was passing up my hot cocoa, even if I had to pay my 50p on top of the membership! The common folk didn’t even have the option! We grabbed my hot chocolate and skedaddled to go make our tour, still refusing to don the velvet robes, but proudly brandishing my hot cocoa, for all they knew it was free with my membership!

What we didn’t know, however, was that this was primarily an outdoor tour where our tour guide told us nothing we hadn’t already read on Wikipedia. The only thing Wikipedia left out was probably a fair warning that we should always say yes to the robes. Those velvety, sleeveless, Tudor-chic garbs would have kept us very warm on our miserable journey through the Wikipedia tour of the arctic. We made the game-time decision to break from the tour so we could find our own path through the castle. Fun fact; Henry VIII’s first wife, Catherine of Aragon was actually Henry’s brother’s widow, and the reason he “had to” take more women because marrying his brother’s widow cursed him into not producing any male heirs with her. I mean I know this was Henry VIII’s palace for entertainment and he influenced heavily the rather impressive architecture, but come on folks, let’s call a spade a spade – or in this case an adulterous tyrant! Overwhelmingly I felt they were painting this benevolent, sympathetic, and tolerant image of this guy. It was actually quite sickening, or amnestic I suppose. Yea, so what, he chopped off the heads of 40+ people, many of who were his wives or somehow related to his wives, but he was still a good guy deep down. The guillotine is our friend, right? God Save the Queen and the royal family mentality in full effect out here.

There were some redeeming qualities of the palace though, and I may just have to go back now that I have my membership, tour the gardens in the springtime and run through the famous garden maze, both of which activities would have left us icicles among the 60 acres of tundra land. On our tour of the outdoors we did see an operational sundial Henry had contracted which was pretty extraordinary. It displayed, the time (24 hour sundial), the tides of the Thames (back when there were tides), the zodiac sign (back when that meant something), the temperature, and something else I’m forgetting. It was gorgeous. We also saw an intact fresco of the Triumphs of Caesar. And of course let’s not forget my 50p hot chocolate that kept me warm for the first 10 minutes of our Wikipedia tour of the outsides of buildings. 

We finished the day off with some tea and scones and then I headed back to the real city. Just in time too, all that fresh air and oxygen was beginning to get to my head! But if you come visit in the warmth I would be more than happy to accompany you on a journey of the Palace, and hopefully even catch a glimpse at Henry himself (alleged man in costume) who was said to be wandering around while we were busy warming up in the kitchens which were used to feed 600 people per day! Impressive! But lesson learned, next time I’ll put on the cape. Always put on the cape.

English word of the day: Quite = very, and is used for everything!!!! Quite cold. Quite pretty. Quite late. Quite a long journey. Quite quiet. Quite tall. Quite short. Quite ANNOYING! There’s no need to put that word before everything you say! We get it. The fact that you are commenting on the height of something is an automatic indication to me that you think it is VERY tall, so stop being redundant!

Miss, may I use the toilet?

Newsflash: Harry Potter World is not just a Universal Studios attraction. I am living it, and it became all too real when I entered a British classroom.

As part of our corporate goals we have to participate in a number of volunteer activities over the course of the year. Getting a head start on my goals, I decided to volunteer at the City of London Academy (or COLA as they referred to it). Getting off the tube I followed the accented little boys and girls wearing their cute school uniforms, bringing me back to my kindergarten days at St. Peter’s by the Sea. Turns out there are actually a few schools in that area, so after following those in blue I discovered I should have followed the purple crowd.

You walk in though and this school takes your breath away, and not in the “scents” that you are blasted by the odor of the cafeteria either. The building, while not quite Hogwarts-esque was definitely a case study in architectural design that we would never see stateside, or at least not in the New York public schools I know and love.

Just look at these common spaces they have littered all over the building!

And then they have special vocational rooms for all types of interests. I saw the Technology Wing 5000, complete with state-of-the-art sanders and laser designers, and hologram makers. And the Future of Computer Rooms worldwide, with robotics and computers side by side. It was truly amazing. But once we entered that “classroom” my friends, that was where the spine-tingle ceased….

The program we were leading is a sister organization to the Junior Achievement Enterprise I participated in back in Boston, but it might as well have been its second cousin twice removed! Placed in a room of 90, 13-14 year olds with 5 volunteers we had our work cut out for us. Now, it could be partly due in part to the selection of venue, we definitely should have split up these 90 unruly whippersnappers, but the behavior on these teens was appalling. From the language they used, to the horrible lack of respect for their elders they exhibited, I had to snap into mean-teacher mode, warning them that antics like this would not be tolerated in the states. Side note, at the end of the day I must admit there was a line of students waiting to receive their detention slips from the headmaster who had unbeknownst to me been passing them out like candy throughout the day!

When we finally did get them to settle down long enough the conversation was actually pretty intriguing for me, and I think I learned more than they did! As “Miss” and “Sir” for the day (their way of referring to their teachers, yea no surnames which I thought was weird!), we discussed with them career paths, laid out some educational goals, and taught lessons on budgeting – even doing a sample budget plan for them, first with their dream budget and then using the national UK average household salary (£26,800 by the way!) which gave them a huge reality check. 

Granted most of these kids wrote down they wanted £20,000 phone budgets which had to be scaled back – I mean, what is a £20,000 phone budget anyway? Diamond encased?

And what I learned in return, the British school system is whacked!!! Here’s my brief analysis for those who are interested:

Compulsory:

1.     Primary Education = 6-11 years old (equivalent of elementary school I suppose)

2.     Secondary Education = 11-14 years (broad range of subjects, your typical middle school course track)

3.     GCSEs  = 14-16 years (set of exams that test your knowledge and skill, forcing them to specialize in a few areas that they think they might pursue!)

Most schools follow the same method when it comes to GCSE's and you will take the following core subjects:

1. English
2. Maths
3. Sciences (either combined or separate Biology, Chemistry and Physics)

      + an additional 4 or 5 GCSEs which can be subjects like French, German, Business Studies, Design and Technology, Music, Sports Science, Geography, History and many other options but all leading toward what they plan to specialize in their career! But I guess this is more similar to taking AP Classes in High School…

Optional thereafter:

6^th Form – option to go to prep school for one year before A-levels

A-Levels - Basically like specializing in a few subjects. Think SAT II’s but worse, these are what you use to get into University. So basically you have to decide at this point what you want to do with your life. Heck, we didn’t even have to declare a major in college until sophomore year, and even then we graduated with whatever degree and went on to do things way outside our realm of course study! Man do I miss the liberal arts system.

OR

Vocational track - which puts you directly into an apprenticeship. (I think there’s someone in my office on this track because at one of the many work events where they provide alcohol the kid was asked if he was even old enough to drink – putting him right in line with this vocational age track.)

And then lastly comes the option of University (which means college in the US), of which they have over 100. Overall though, I can’t decide if I like the system better, giving each individual more options to decide what’s best for him or her, rather than being shepherded through grade levels and, for the most part, straight to college after high school graduation. It is a little liberating. But at the same time, maybe that freedom accounts for the terrible behavior they exhibited throughout the course of my “volunteer” day. Certainly made me miss my cubicle. (I never thought I’d say that!)

To all my teachers, I give you so much credit for putting up with us. It is not an easy job, especially at the age. I think we can officially cross teaching off my list for any future career changes. And volunteer teacher from my list of activities to fulfill my business goals.

English word of the day: Toilet. Yes, this is the same in American English, but the connotation and usage are way off. With the amount of times I heard “Miss, can I go to the toilet?” (in this case every other minute!), I decided that phrase was just not right. I’m not always the most sanitarily aware but that saying still gives me the creeps. I know that’s what we’re implying when we ask to use the restroom, ladies room, bathroom, etc. But toilet? Come on England, keep it clean.

Wilkommen to Stuttgart!

My softball coach from university (Yes, UNI, NOT college. See how I’m adopting the British way there, I’m learning!) called me and asked if I could work a softball clinic with her in Germany for a few days. Jumping at the chance to both travel and get back in touch with the game that was a part of my life for as long as I can remember, I said UH YES, OBVIOUSLY. It was only a quick hour-long flight, and I was there!

We were running the camp on the American army base in Stuttgart, but we might as well have been anywhere in the states in terms of the softball experience. Softball parents were typical softball parents – doting, intense, and overly generous in welcoming in their extended softball family. We taught, we played, we laughed, we learned…and we were sore come day two. Overall the camp was a huge success, we tried to bring as much softball knowledge from the states that we could since we knew how far from the game these girls were. Their love for the game was evident and they were overly grateful to have players and coaches from the states come over to impart their knowledge. 

Look at the form on those 3 coaches!! Well played.

The diamond aside though, let me give you a taste of the real German experience. Here are some highlights from our time away from the field and out in the German countryside.

- Ritter Sport Chocolate.  Along with bread, cheese, and pastries, European chocolate is one of the many things in the category of, once-you-have-it-here-you’ll-never-go-back. The party in your mouth experience just doesn’t translate across the pond. Maybe it’s the water, maybe it’s because they put more time and love into each morsel they produce, or maybe there are just fewer FDA-like rules as to what they put in things over here, filling my taste buds with tiny crack-cocaine one bite at a time. Whatever it is, I am in love. Ending camp a little early day one, we jetted off to make it to the Ritter Sport Chocolate factory in time to watch them put their secret ingredients into the chocolate bars. Much to our chagrin, we got there only to find out that the factory was closed to the public until May – something about traces of the coca plant (yes coca, not cocoa) appearing in the water near the factory, so strange. I kid, I kid, BUT the bright side was that the Ritter Sport store WAS OPEN. We went a little wild in there and came out of the Willy Wonka wonderland a few pounds heavier. Yum. If you’re lucky I might send you a bar.

- The language. For instance, Bodenseewasserwersorgung = “Lake Constance water supply by the side of the road in Stuttgart.” One of the many funny things about the German language, aside from always sounding so very angry, is that it is also extremely lazy. Often times, for convenience sake, Germans will just combine all the words they are trying to say into one. Easy! Hence the German joke for the word for bra = kerstopemfromfloppin. I can get on board with this easy way out mentality, although not sure Robert Frost would agree. 

-Maltauschen, Schnitzel, and Brezels OH MY! In traditional softball fat kid fashion, I can pretty much say I ate my way through Germany. Every time we turned around, the softball parents were offering us a new German treat to try, one parent even made each of us a WHOLE CAKE to take home! Not one to turn a free meal down, I tried it all. Maltauschen, which was some sort of wonton noodle-like thing filled with mystery “meat” was probably the strangest thing I tried. The filling was greenish in color, but they swore it was minced meat, spinach, bread crumbs, onions, and herbs and spices. I was told they are a traditional dish in Swabia, because the meat is concealed under the pasta dough and cannot be seen by God. Therefore they have earned the nickname "Little Cheaters on God."  I’m still not convinced there was any meat in there. But it was still delicious nonetheless and I ate it all (I’m also not one to dishonor my religious beliefs as a proud member of the Clean Plate Club). And what about the schnitzel! Made fresh for you while you waited, you could seriously hear them pounding your pork (mind out of the gutter!) in the kitchen while you enjoyed your German Bier.  Lastly, the brezels. I’ve never been a huge fan of American soft pretzels. Always too dry for my liking. But these! So moist and doughy and perfectly cooked, I couldn’t get enough of them!

- Bier, Bier, Bier! From a German brewery to an Irish pub, I got my fill of Hefeweizens, which brought me back to my days in the German Biergartens of Munich with my study abroad crew. It was just as I remembered. AND just to make us feel a little at home, the live band at the Irish Pub (yes I went to Germany to find an Irish pub) was from New Orleans, so he played all the great American classics we know and love. Side note, not sure he opened his eyes once, so perhaps with our rather loud American voices singing at he top of our lungs maybe we did our part to convince him he was still in the States?! You’re welcome, cover-band-man.

It was with sadness, and tight-fitting jeans, I bade farewell to my softball friends and boarded my plane back to London. Until next time Germany! And by next time, I mean I’m conquering Oktoberfest!

German word of the day (just to mix it up): Kreisverkehn, pronounced something along the lines of “cries-fook-yoon” = roundabout. Thanks to Cailin, I was very familiar with this saying since she told me the story of the time her GPS got stuck on German with the pronunciation of this word in particular that always had her and her family in stitches. Sound it out, you’ll get it.

Wunderkammer or Replica of Poppi’s Basement?

After walking past a sign for the Museum of Brands, Packaging & Advertising twice a day, everyday on my walk to work, I decided I needed to give in and see what this was all about. In a very uncharacteristic Bailey-move, I decided to wander on in without doing any preliminary research on what I was getting myself into. This worked well for our expedition to the Barbie museum in Prague (see pictures below) - the boys in my study abroad crew have yet to forgive us for that one - but since I was calling the shots today I figured, why not! 

Laid out in such a way that it takes you on a journey through time with all the BRITISH brands you know and love, I was off through the twisting tunnels of this dungeon-like cabinet of curiosities. What popular British brands did I see, you ask? Well, see that’s just the thing. As an ex-pat who still has trouble buying groceries, always unsure of what the packages are trying to sell me, I should have known I was getting in over my head, submerging myself in more and more of these “popular labels” that have yet to mean anything to my American-trained mind. They say though, the only way to learn is through complete immersion, right? Well, then, let’s file this in the education bucket, as I certainly dove head first into the world of British advertising.

I started in the Victorian era, learning a lot about Marmite, a sticky, dark brown paste with a distinctive, powerful flavour, which is extremely salty and savoury – whose slogan for years has been, very appropriately I must say, “Love it or hate it.” Based on the description, my allegiance falls with the latter. Moving on from the Victorian to the Edwardian era I found products like Keen’s Mustard, a byproduct of the first mustard factory in London, and Hornby Trains, the early, unsuccessful version of the do-it-yourself train models and tracks, which failed because young boys were lazier than Hornby anticipated and wanted the pre-assembled versions popular at the time. It wasn’t until the later decades when I was actually able to recognize some of the products and games being marketed, i.e. Rubik’s Cube (with a special Charles and Diana commemorative wedding-day design), Fanta, Monopoly (British version which replaces Boardwalk with Mayfair, Park Ave with Regent’s Street, Reading Railroad with King’s Cross Station), Cadbury, and others.  

My personal favorite, and just to bring the post full circle, was the British Barbie doll Sindy, whose “girl next door” look made her much more popular in Britain than Barbie (apparently Brits think Barbie’s a slut). Surprisingly, Sindy’s “wholesome look” was never able to cross the pond and make a dent in American consumerism, so after a few futile attempts in advertising her in the states, they gave up and returned her to the homeland.

I guess I should have read the description before entering, could have given me more of the British clue…

“The Museum of Brands, Packaging & Advertising spans a 120-year period in the history of consumerism, culture, design, domestic life, fashion, folly and fate. It is presented as a magnificently cluttered time tunnel of cartons and bottles, toys and advertising displays, and is a small part of the collection amassed by Robert Opie - son of the celebrated collectors of children's lore and literature Iona and Peter Opie - since the day in 1963 when the 16-year-old arrived home with a Munchies wrapper and declared his intention never to throw away anything ever again. The emphasis is on British consumerism through the last century, though there are items as old as an ancient Egyptian doll. One for Brit-brand nostalgists.”

Takeaway lesson – I will look into creating the American Museum of Brands, Packaging & Advertising right next door to this one for us ethnocentric ex-pats who assumed all British museums would feature pertinent American memorabilia. I’ll start by going through Poppi’s 98-year old basement collection.

English word of the day: Today I highlight the LONG E, prevalent in words pronounced lee-verage, a-meen-able, har-eem. This were all words I heard recently in conversation around the office which gave me pause to think, ok what words are they trying to use here – and yea, don’t ask why these were the three words I picked out, I assure you they weren’t used in one sentence :) The use of the long E vs. our staccato “eh” sound often causes confusion for the American tongue in England, and definitely was something I felt worth noting.