Castle-d out (aka Wales Part II)

Caernarfon Castle in Northern Wales

Chris and I have been to four castles together so far in our 2 months of living in England. That may not seem like a lot but let me tell you – it is – and we are castle-d out! Chris’ parents just recently visited and Chris took them to Windsor Castle – his fifth castle in two months! Too many castles!

Our first castle visit to Hampton Court was by far our most enjoyable castle excursion so far. (It may or may not have benefited from being the first – see my description of our trip there and decide for yourself!) However, on our recent trip to Northern Wales we went to Caernarfon Castle and it was pretty darn cool. Like really, really I wish I had been taken there when I was little and it was still socially acceptable for me to run in public, because I would have run through every stone corridor and up and down every steeply spiraling staircase up to every turret, and then all the way around the battlements.

Learn from my mistake and wear appropriate footwear - stylish flats just won't do.

This was a medieval marvel. No fancy fabrics and furnishings, just stone, and iron chains, and an impressive impenetrability despite the disrepair. (Although the Welsh villagers did manage to burn the castle of their English oppressors down on at least one occasion.)

Caernarfon was built by Edward I in the early 13^th century as part of many castles and forts built in Northern Wales to suppress uprisings in the newly acquired territory. Edward I was a crusader and spent many years fighting in Europe and the Middle East so his castles were inspired by those he had seen on his travels.

The only drawback to this castle was the lack of information about the history of the castle and the area. There was only one room dedicated to dolling out historical information about the castle - and no general historical information at all. This is in stark contrast with all other castles we've visited, all of which have had more than ample educational information available everywhere. However, the one room was a nice summary of the castle's history and besides, wandering around on top of the stone walls and turrets, and roaming the dark, dank stone corridors and towers is much more fun than reading anyway.

Llandudno

Drumroll please…. I herewith present the record of our trip to Northern Wales!!

Come on – I know you’ve been dying with anticipation, and I surely have kept you waiting long enough! It’s been a week and a day since we got back. Computer issues, sickness, you’d think I were writing an excuse to an English teacher on why a paper was late (Mr. Wilson, Mrs. Feinberg, et al do you see now? These excuses are/were real!)

Ahem.

Anyway.

Northern Wales trip – Part I

We picked up our rental car from Waterloo early Friday morning. It was a bright, clear, summer-like day – perfect for a drive through English countryside. We hit no traffic, driving on the wrong side of the road was a breeze (well a breeze for me because I was in the passenger seat – but Chris had no issues), and the rest stops on the highway were immaculate. But a word to the wise – stick to American chains, the fries at the British knock-off of McDonalds were terrible! And the chicken nuggets were actually made with real chicken! (Which really isn’t as good as it may sound – there’s a reason McDonalds inserts all that bread into the chicken pulp.)

So, we arrived at Llandudno safe, sound and happy. Llandudno – according to my guidebook – is a chic Victorian sea-side resort. According to me, it occupies a stunning spot on a beautiful rocky coastline nestled between green and rolling hills, but the town itself has little to offer except a disgusting array of fish and chips. (Disgusting, in that, that is all anyone was eating anywhere. I can only look at a certain amount of fried-food consumption per day – seeing it consumed everywhere at all hours is disconcerting to my stomach.)

But coming from London, it was lovely to be on the seashore, even if the accompanying town lacked the charm I had expected from the (deceiving!) guidebook. The walk along the boardwalk was stunningly, movie-like beautiful even in the evening rain, and the kaleidoscope rocks that made up the beach made walking along the water like walking along a mineral rainbow.

We also went for a short trek up the adjoining hillside and saw a bunny and some spectacular views.

Our very own, private Easter bunny!

Just a short walk up the hillside found us on the edge of the world.

If I were to go to this part of Wales again I would pick a less touristy town and rent my own cottage– so as to enjoy the jaw-dropping scenery and fresh sea air while escaping the crowds and the bad food.

The next morning we went to a castle – to be continued tomorrow!

Homesick and Seasick

Okay, okay. I have been gone for a long while. But I have excuses! I had the world’s worst sore throat all last week. And this week I have had stomach flu type nausea. I might as well be below deck on a sailboat in a stormy sea.

What’s the normal prescription for a sour stomach?

Why… saltines and ginger ale – duh!

Do grocery stores in England have saltines and ginger ale?

??

NOOOOOOOOOO, they do not.

And so I am left sprinkling salt onto “cream biscuits” – a very sorry substitute indeed.

So, as you see, I will return to regular postings in a little while. As soon as I feel well enough to jog over to the grocery store in St Johns Wood that imports saltines and ginger ale (and oreos, and triscuits, and other delicious Americana) all for a reasonable five times price uptick – hah. It will be by far the most expensive processed food I have ever bought, but it will be so worth it.

Pictures and stories from our trip to Northern Wales last weekend will be uploaded and told after I procure saltines and ginger ale. A girl can only do so much when so under the weather.

Feed the Birds – tuppence a bag

Are you singing along in your head after just reading that title? Doesn’t it invoke wonderful visions of Julie Andrews with her perfectly coifed hair singing both mournfully and hopefully? And that sweet little old lady selling bread crumbs for delighted little children to sprinkle to the hungry little birds – isn’t that such a lovely picture?

Well, no, it is not!

Here in England people are OBSESSED with feeding the birds. Mostly pigeons, but also swans, ducks, herons (as mentioned in a previous post) and any other kind of creature possessed of wings. It is so VERY FAR removed from the precious little picture painted by the Mary Poppins song as to be diametrically opposed. There is nothing more disgusting than watching people (all manners of people – both British and tourists) throwing whole slices of processed white bread (what happened to the crumbs?) to hoards of pigeons.

Newsflash people- PIGEONS ARE VERMIN! That wasn’t my phrasing actually, we saw that written on signs along the waterfront of Richmond Upon Thames, where – guess what? – people were throwing bread to pigeons. And not only are pigeons vermin – but they also attract vermin. There is nothing a poor hungry rat likes better than some leftover pieces of over processed bread.

Does this state of affairs exist all throughout London? At every park? Now Hyde Park is really a wonderful park. It is grand on a truly royal scale - with lots of open green spaces, stately old trees, a monument to Princess Diana, and a big lake which you can row upon. Hyde Park borders the most fashionable parts of London; it is elegant and beautiful. A stroll there affords you photo-shots of nature such as this:

Am I really in the middle of a city?

Surely, at Hyde Park there is none of this tossing-of-whole-bread-slices to birds business.

Well, lo and behold – it is a blight on the landscape here as in any other park in London.

I originally took the above picture to show how every member of society – including those clothed in burkas – take part in this disgusting habit. However, recently I’ve noticed that more people of seeming Middle Eastern descent, and particularly women, tend to perpetuate this habit that is as unsightly to me as it is unhealthy for the poor birds. I don’t know what to make of this observation, except that perhaps, it is their signaling to the world that they are well-off? In a poor country to give food to a bird that you aren’t planning to eat would be seen either as folly or as a sign that you are so wealthy you can throw your money away. Or perhaps the burka-bound woman in my picture had a more primal desire to interact with things cute and feathered. I have often felt a kinship with wild animals – my cultural prejudice against the pigeon cannot prevent me from seeing how she could garner some inner calm from doing them what she thinks is a favor.

But really, can we just stop throwing bread to the pigeons people?

Playing Travel Agent

And why have I not posted anything since last Friday? It’s because I’ve been playing that all-consuming, maddening game called let’s be our own internet travel agent.

I started off on Monday with great success. I booked Easy Jet tickets to Porto, Portugal for one week in the end of July for our one-year anniversary. Success!

But then I started to plan our long Easter weekend in Wales. There’s a bank holiday on Good Friday, and one on Easter Monday too – which means a nice four-day long break that involves no taking days off work for Chris – perfect! What could be simpler than planning a long weekend in Wales, right? Right?

Because it’s taken me more than four days and I still have yet to book anything, I hereby pronounce that all further long weekends and vacations booked by me will involve nothing other than a phone and a guidebook. Because clearly, I am paralyzed by the choice afforded by endless internet searches.

What happens is, I go to Trip Advisor, find the best ranked hotels and b&bs for our price range, and then debate between the top few picks (are there pubs within walking distance? is there parking? is it too touristy? yadayadayada) for so long that the rooms are no longer available, and then I have to start the review process all over again. I think this is the reason that Chris booked our honeymoon…. Actually, I know this is the reason.

But my indecisive self has come up with an (obviously) indefinite and still yet to be booked plan:

Friday

9am – pick up rental car in Waterloo (Chris booked this! Yay for decisive action!)

12pm – stop for lunch in some quaint town west of Birmingham (or MacDonald’s – because hey, they use 100% British beef so it’s kind of authentic)

1-4pm – see Conwy Castle

4pm – check into this B&B or this one in Llandundo (seaside resort town north of Snowdonia National Park - don't ask me to pronounce it though!)

5pm - explore beachfront

7pm – dinner

Saturday

Enjoy a Welsh breakfast (which from the description seems identical to an English breakfast - clearly nothing served in Wales can be tainted with the word "English")

Check out

Hike Snowdon Mt!!!

See Caernarfon Castle if there is time

Check in at this cute little B&B, or this one, in the southern part of Snowdonia National Park

Sunday

Church and 4 mile walk around the Mawddach Estuary

Barmouth Beach in the afternoon

photo credit

Monday

Mountain biking in the am for Chris

Check out of cute little B&B

Find something cool to see en route back to London! (maybe Tintern Abbey or somewhere else ancient and castle-y in Southern Wales?)

If you have any suggestions for my very hesitant self - please post a comment below!

FoodGloriousFoodFridays

7 reasons why I heart British grocery stores

1. Ode to Tropicana juices sold on the British Isles: Oh Florida orange juice, when I first arrived here I mistakenly bought our regular plain orange juice and bemoaned the clearly inferior orange taste. But behold! Here in Britain, you are not content to appear garbed purely in orange! Orange and passionfruit! Orange and lime! Orange and watermelon! Orange and raspberry! Orange and pineapple! Orange and mango! All freshly-squeezed! All delicious! Now if only you came in something other than a midget-sized 1-litre container….

2. Speaking of juices. I heart apple and elderflower juice. Brits love and consume their apple juice in proportion to how Americans love and consume their orange juice. (Although I still haven’t seen a container of anything here – not even beer - that is as big as those jumbo orange juice bottles back home.) The apple juice is always cloudy and so scrumptious – no triple-filtered, triple -pasteurized, sugar-water here! – and it is especially scrumptious with the added elderflower juice. Elderflower is SO good. Tart and indescribable and you MUST try and find some at your local fancy grocery store because it is one of these things that I know I will pine for if/when we move back to the States!

3. Fruits and Veggies. To everyone that warned me that I would be disappointed in the leafy green department – I am so glad to inform you that you were so very wrong! The fruit and veg here is of superior quality and variety and value than what I was used to back home. 4 passion fruit for 1 pound? And a container of absolutely PERFECT strawberries for 1.50? They also package berries only in one layer, with a thin strip of bubble wrap on the bottom so the berries don’t get bruised and ruined. I obviously can't speak for grocery stores in the rest of England, but fruit&veg here in the capital rocks.

4. Pasteurization. Everything here, from juices to cheese to milk, is single pasteurized. I don’t know if everyone is aware of this, but everything in the states is usually triple pasteurized – aka destroyed of flavor and goodness but capable of staying fresh for an (unnaturally) long time.

5. Milk. Because of the above single-pasteurization the milk here tastes SO MUCH BETTER!! Not kidding at all. It is SO good. The only drawback is that it goes sour SO quickly. You have to consume within 3 days of opening it. If I didn’t live 2 minutes from the grocery store I might find this a drawback – but seriously – when you come visit us – have a glass of cow nectar!

6. French cheeses. Again with the pasteurization. You can buy raw milk cheeses of all varieties in the ho-hum pedestrian super market! You can buy every imaginable type of French cheese – pasteurized or not. And they are inexpensive. And delicious. And it is so lovely.

7. Bonne Maman brand chocolate mousse and crème caramel cups. You know the French brand that makes those pretty darn good (but pricey) jams and fruit spreads available in the US? Well it’s too bad we don’t live closer to France, because I’m pretty sure they would export (and we would happily devour) their refrigerated desserts to us too if they could. The chocolate mousse is airy and rich at the same time, so chocolate-y and divine. It tastes like a million bucks, but only cost a few pennies per serving. If only you could scoop it out into pretty glass dishes and claim creator-ship without mussing up the texture. You can, however, pretend to have made the crème caramels. Invert those bad boys over a pretty plate and pretend you’re in a posh French brasserie. Ahhh, c’est merveilleux!

Bon weekend a tous!

Here Comes the Sun

Yesterday I spent a blissful & beautiful day with my friend J. We met at the London Fields Lido (what? Don’t speak British? Lido = public outdoor swimming pool) and went for a nice long (kind of long, in a shortish way) swim. Then we sunbathed poolside next to some very cute babies for an hour or so.

During said sunbathing, I admonished J for not planning on bringing anything higher than SPF 30 on her upcoming trip to the Caribbean. I went on and on about how she needed SPF 50, AT LEAST (I mean I make Chris slather on SPF 70!) and she kindly withstood my barrage of advice. (“I mean, do you know how horrible sun stroke is? Blah, blah blah-di-blah,” harps Calamity Jane.)

After that we went for a nice vegan lunch at a restaurant run by hemp-wearing hippies who all volunteer their time. Damn hippies. Food’s great though. Anyway, we ate our tofu & bulgur burgers with avocado and jalapenos on the sidewalk in the BRIGHT AND BRILLANT SUNSHINE – it was GLORIOUS!

And then I prepared a picnic dinner for Chris and I to enjoy in the fading twilight of Hampstead Heath (romantic, wonderful, love-my-life) – and then we went home.. and I turned on the lights… and looked in the mirror…. and I was SUNBURNT!!!

But did I deserve it or what? I need to get me some SPF 50 baby, for the mean British sun.

And PS it was an absolutely gloriously sunny 70 degrees here today AGAIN! And it’s supposed to be the same tomorrow! Oh why isn’t my sea shipment with all my summer clothes here yet? Why?!

So, New Englanders, how’s that snow treating ya? Want to come visit us yet?

Here’s the *lovely* new insulated picnic bag I picked up at a charity shop for just 10 quid. (Charity shop = thrift store , quid = pound – there now you speak British.)

Bristol

This past weekend Chris and I went to Bristol for a nice escape from “the big smoke.” We went with our friends B and J, who both grew up there and we spent a lot of the weekend with B’s really wonderful family enjoying great hospitality, with many, many cups of tea. (Tea at breakfast! Tea at lunch! Tea in the afternoon! Tea after dinner! Tea after drinking! Tea upon arrival home at 3am! I kid you not.)

Anyhow, in between bouts of playing with B’s sister’s absolutely a-freaking-dorable, straight from a Gerber-baby commercial, 9-month-old baby boy, she asked me: “What’s your favorite part about living in England so far?” I hesitated for a while. What should I say? Should I be adoring and say everything? Facetious and say the weather? Knowing and say London isn’t like the rest of England so I don’t know? I eschewed all normal answers and replied “I love that all the laundry machines are in the kitchen. It’s so convenient.” Now for a good many, clearly obvious, reasons this was not the correct response. Clearly – given that we had just met – she was not acquainted with my enthusiastic domesticity. There was silence. I tried to recover. “I love the grocery stores too!”

Fail.

It’s hard being a stranger in a strange land. Not that England is in any way strange – I think it’s just one level of estrangement more than California is to Connecticut. But it’s just that here I’m always hyper-aware of being American. That makes me feel awkward, which makes me say ridiculous (see the above) things. Not that I didn’t mean said ridiculous things. I did and I do! I love having the laundry in the kitchen and I love the grocery stores here! I just would normally steer the conversation in a more general-interest kind of area. I know a few people (ahem, I mean women) who would love to discuss the finer points of washing-machine placement but I’m 100% positive that no one in that room in Bristol is a member of my, errr, exclusive group.

Bristol is a university town and the picture at top is the university tower. The panorama below is from the top of the hill - Bristol is a very hilly (and, as you can see, very pretty) city! Bristol also boasts a small but comprehensive and very kid-friendly museum with fine art AND dinosaur fossils AND mummies! There is also an aquarium, a beautiful suspension bridge across an immense gorge, lots of great shops & restaurants, a BEAUTIFUL & ancient cathedral, and last but not least, there are Banksy's all over the place! (And by all over the place, I mean on walls everywhere you turn.) Read more about Banksy - the anonymous graffiti artist & bandit - click here!

Hampton Court

Base Court - the original Tudor-era entrance

Chris and I visited Hampton Court last Sunday. We woke up to a grey and dreary day, and it was with a bit of lazy trepidation (I don’t want to walk around castle gardens in the rain! Waah!) that we boarded the train at Waterloo to Kingston. (Usually you can take a train direct to Hampton.) To both our delights, however, when we emerged from the Tudor Kitchens tour, it was brilliantly sunny! (Why didn’t I bring a picnic? Waah!) Needless to say, we had an absolutely wonderful day exploring the castle inside and out. If you have a chance, I highly recommend this as daytrip as it is so easy to get to from central London – even if you are just visiting London for a short while.

Fun Facts I learned while exploring Hampton Court with the free! audio guide tours. (Yes Chris and I walked around with audio guide tours. Headset? Check. Bright orange cord? Check. We looked cool. See?)

- Hampton Court was a “gift” to King Henry VIII from Cardinal Woolsey, who directed its original construction for his own use. (Methinks the dear Cardinal preferred keeping his head over keeping the castle.)

- King Henry VIII and his court had several royal residences. They stayed at each one for a short time before moving to another. Even these short stays wiped out the resources of the surrounding areas; imagine having to feed 600 people two meals a day for weeks on end!

- Henry VIII and his courtiers ate goose and otter during Lent because they thought geese and otter were born in the water and thus a type of fish. (I’m sure learned men of the day were aware of this fallacy, but were worried that to disrupt this illusion would also disrupt their head’s alignment with their body.)

- Henry VIII was married to Katherine of Aragon for almost twenty-four years and their union was a happy and constructive partnership. (No way! In the (great) show Tudors they are at each other’s throats and King Henry VIII is seeeexy (!) and young while Catherine is old and dowdy! No way! Historical drama isn’t historically accurate?? heh)

- The ghost of Katherine Howard, Henry's fifth wife, still haunts a hallway known, appropriately, as the Haunted Gallery. She was imprisoned in a tower for adultery (a crime which, unlike the similarly accused and executed Anne Boylen, she was most likely guilty). She managed to escape her guards in the tower and run down the passageway, trying to catch the King and plead for her life while he was at services in the Chapel. She was overtaken before she reached him, but her presence remains at Hampton Court undeterred, still running wildly down the corridor to plead for a life long-since extinguished.

- To celebrate one of his six marriages, Henry VIII had a fountain built that could flow with both water and… wine! (Perhaps this is why the British Foundation found it appropriate to place historical figurines in drunken attitudes at the fountain’s base….)

Hey Kids! Go sit with the drunken statutes and let me take your picture!

- King William III (r 1689-1702) and Queen Mary II (r 1689-94) intended to fully demolish Hampton Court and rebuild, but because of budget constrains they had to content themselves with rebuilding only a portion. This is why much of the castle maintained by King Henry VIII is still in its 16th century appearance. It also explains the mismatched styles in the different portions of the castle.

- William III was gay. Well, the prim and proper British narrator doesn't go right out and assert that - but it's clear that he wants to do so.

- William III also had really good decorative taste. The personally-acquired paintings in his private quarters are still hung as he arranged them.

- The weapons so impressively arrayed as decorative wall art all around the interior of The Kings Guard Chamber were kept in full working order so that they could serve a more practical purpose if the need arose.

- Do this look French to you?

- It should! France was the epicenter of all design and William III and Mary II had to emulate French architecture, garden design, fashion, even manners and social customs in order to be held in the respect commanded by their position. (Their claim to the throne was tenuous. Click here for more information.)

Things you should do if you should ever visit Hampton Court that various guidebooks may or may not tell you do to.

- Catch a glimpse of King Henry VIII as he walks from Chapel down the haunted corridor. (Ask the very helpful staff when he is scheduled to do so that day.)

- Take a look at the picture in the corridor that portrays the real King and marvel at the resemblance. (How did they find that guy?)

- Borrow a velvet robe when you are getting your free audio guides, and wander the halls of Hampton Court in regally ridiculous fashion.

- Tour the Tudor Kitchens with your free audio guide. They were the best part. (Even my relatively non-food-obsessed husband agrees.)

- If you must skip something, skip Queen Mary’s apartments, but don’t miss King William's!

- While looking at the grouped portraits called the Hampton Court Beauties, wonder if aesthetic standards have changed so drastically since the late 17th century. Or if, as Chris wisely pointed out, they were working with limited supply. (They were the most beautiful ladies of court, of course. Noble blood confers on you wealth, prestige, and royal favor, but not necessarily good genes!)

- Take a break in the castle outdoor café. The food is decent but the atmosphere sublime. Or better yet, if it is a beautiful day, bring a picnic!

- Spend time in all the gardens! They are beautiful and varied!

- And finally, if it is a nice day, walk to the Kingston train station. Exit the palace gardens by the gate to the left of the Great Garden Fountain and cross Home Park. (King Henry VIII had this 750-acre area enclosed for his royal hunts and 300 fallow deer still live here.) Just head straight across the grassy, tree-lined pathway and you will end up along the banks of the Thames in the very developed but still quaint town of Kingston Upon Thames. Along the river walk you will find plenty of outdoor seating in which to enjoy a pint and the fading sunlight.

- While walking through Home Park try and keep your eye out for some deer:

- Or some nesting swans!

And if you do decide to go, be sure to check out the Historic Royal Palaces website first at hrp.co.uk

Food glorious food Friday (the past week in edibles)

Obviously, if you know me, you know that I love food. The verdict is still out on whether I am a gourmet gourmand or just a gourmand, but either way, I find myself constantly wanting to talk about the food I’ve eaten, seen or made in this city. Especially because so much of it is new and different -- and all of it is enticing! So I’ve decided that, instead of randomly putting a picture of an egg in a post about laundry say, I’ll devote a post each Friday to everything food-related I’ve wanted to share from the past week. And so – here’s my week in food.

After a long day of walking in Hampstead Heath last Saturday, we stopped at what has now become our favorite pub. It’s a bit too far to be considered our “local” (a neighborhood pub which you frequent every week/day) but it has the coolest vibe – great indoor seating and a huge patio, mismatched groupings of comfortable furniture inside and out, great beer selection, great food, and these chairs which I really want to steal:

Chorizo and black pudding salad was my lunch. As our friend said, isn’t it great how they throw the word salad in there and what would have been heart-attack on a plate becomes (if not healthy) acceptable? But, oh well, it was delicious. And yes, friends, black pudding is made with blood. YUM. (I know I am sarcastic often but that was not an example of it. I’m one of these weird people that likes to eat all parts of an animal.)

During the waning hours of our pub crawl last Sunday at our last pub we realized that A) we were hungry and B) it was 9pm and the kitchen had closed. (Although it is of note that the bartender said he could procure us fish and chips if we forked over 60 pounds – about 100 dollars.) As you can see below, he would have made a killing off such a deal.

We had to settle for the only hot item available on the bar snack menu.

What, more sausage you say? Bring it on! I love beer and meat! (For the record, my waistline does not.) But the best part of this "bar snack" was it’s name. “Sausage on a stick.” No need to beat around the bush, you did just order the adult carnivore’s version of a popsicle.

And to add to the cornucopia of HEALTHY foods I’ve consumed this week... I bring you - that shining star of meat products - BACON!

This is British back bacon. It is so good, with – as you can see – a whole lot less fat than American bacon. But if you come visit you can still have American-style bacon, it’s called streaky bacon. This morning it was back bacon topped with a shiny golden star:

How beautiful and golden is that yolk? The only time I’ve ever seen a yolk even close to being that orange was when I had an egg from the rural backyard of my dad’s neighbor. Here in London you just need to go to the supermarket.

And since this blog today has basically been all about food porn – let’s end with dessert.

This is a stand at the Camdentown market. A crazy, crazy riot of a place, deserving of it’s very own post.

Now that, I think everyone can agree, is YUM!

Primrose Hill and Regent’s Park

This is our backyard.

Okay.

I’m exaggerating.

It’s an eight minute walk.

It’s called Primrose Hill and it’s beautiful.

Right below Primrose Hill is Regent’s Park. Home to the usual English park contingent of football fields, ponds, structured gardens etc – it also has unique features like an open-air theatre, a canal (otherwise known as Little Venice), the London Zoo, and a heronry (more on that at the end). It is an absolutely huge, beautiful and varied park. Particularly famous for the quantity and variety of its rose garden, Queen Mary’s gardens are whimsical and beautiful even at this time of year. Although we cannot wait for the roses to bloom…. right now the rose bushes are naked - plots of brown limbs awaiting pink, white and red adornment in the coming months.

If they are as pretty as this tree, then I will come see them every day. And seeing as it’s only a 15 minute walk from our front door, that seems like the perfect aesthetically-pleasing exercise plan.

I would show you more pictures of Regent’s Park. But if you’ve seen The King’s Speech then you’ve seen a famous part of it - the “Boardwalk.” A pebble strewn avenue lined by perfectly pruned trees with pathways leading off every so often to copious groupings of statues, fountains, and stately just-now-budding trees. This is where Bertie (King George VI) and the “Doctor” were walking when they had that violent row (argument). Even if you haven’t seen The King’s Speech (in which case, stop reading right now and get thee to a movie theater while you still have time!) you can just goggle-image Regent’s Park and you get the idea. Besides what I have to share with you next is so much more entertaining.

So we were checking out the tennis courts in Regent’s Park. (There are about a dozen perfect courts. This is the city where they hold Wimbledon after all.) We did a circular route around all the courts that took us through this obviously infrequently-visited back garden area. And we stumbled upon this:

Yah, that’s a little old stooped-back lady feeding bread to this:

There were two of them, plus some other birds and squirrels and they were loving her bread tosses. The herons would tumble forward on their awkward long legs and peck it up quickly from where she had thrown it a few inches away from her feet, and then quickly retreat. It would have been endearing if not for the fact that I know bread is awful for birds, and because the squirrels were so emboldened by her intimate feeding techniques that they scrambled right up to my feet and I had to effect a hasty retreat myself!

A parting note…. I can’t wait for summer, and some “Ice Cream” !

This week

It’s another rainy day in London! My neighbors will be happy. They had a sprinkler going in their backyard this morning, because, you know, it’s been a whole two days since the last precipitation.

I’ve been m.i.a. this week. I would like to say it’s because my days have been full of Excitement! Adventure! But sadly, no, my days have been full of Organizing the apartment! Trying vainly to put together Ikea-esque-but-much-more-frustrating storage units! Researching volunteer opportunities! Attempting to pay council tax! Compound all that with my liver’s revolt against my increased alcohol consumption (when in Rome) and you have the perfect formula for writer fatigue.

We did have a wonderful Tuesday evening dinner with our new American friends. One of my bridesmaid’s cousins just moved here with her husband for his job – and they just got married last July too. And she’s from Vermont like Chris. Suffice to say, we had an absolute blast and I’m so happy/lucky to have a friend like that here already! Then Wednesday we had happy hour drinks with Chris’ office at a Bavarian bar. We consumed a HUGE amount of beer, and a liiiitttle bit of sausage. (The English do not mess around with their drinking by letting food interfere, let me tell you.) But most importantly I learned (after a lot of blank staring and looks of mutual incomprehension) that “Saturday week” means “next Saturday.” Luckily said-explainer was a lovely Irish girl who understands the difficulties of learning a new version of English because – apparently – the vocabulary in Ireland is as different from British English as American English is. And last night we had a delicious and very fancy dinner with Chris’ boss. But, just for the record, snails and pork belly taste divine separately, but they should never, ever share a plate. Period. (But boy was that pork belly amaaaazing. I’d go kill a pig this moment to have some more!)

So as you can see, my mornings have been ho-hum domestic and my evenings pretty darn fun. And now I’m about to go buck that morning-dullness trend by being very active, energetic, and TOURISTY while going to explore some South Kensington museums with a British friend who lives in London. Do not worry, I am going to embarrass the heck out of her by taking lots of pictures so I can share my adventures as a London tourist with you back at home.

I’m pretty sure I might embarrass her with my umbrella too. It’s very, very bright and flowery. I hope British people don’t take me as representative of Americans in general. Because I’m pretty sure I embarrass my American friends as well.

Cheers! Have a great weekend!

un-homesick... and sidewalks?

Three different women in the past three days have asked me the same, perplexing question. It invariably comes immediately as a follow-up to a question on how I like London, and it goes something like this, “Are you a bit homesick?”

Hmmm, is this condition called homesickness expected of recent expatriates? Am I betraying an un-patriotic nature by declaring that quite the contrary, no I am certainly not suffering from said disorder?

Do I miss my friends and family? Sure I do! I miss them tons! But this is also such an exciting adventure – such a wonderful opportunity to be in the most beautiful cosmopolitan city in the world! Why would I taint such a gift with homesickness?

When I lived in Paris, I did get very homesick after a month or so. I remember going home for Thanksgiving very well – after the passport guy at US immigration stamped my passport he smiled this huge, broad smile and exclaimed, “Welcome home!” I was so thrilled to be back to American friendliness and just plain speaking English. But here in London, despite the (albeit many) variations on pronunciation, vocabulary, and orthography, I don’t have to rehearse in my mind what I need to ask for when going into a store or ordering at a restaurant – and quite frankly, living in NYC for two years has inured me to rudeness. The prospect of strangers smiling at me on the streets makes me shudder (why are they smiling?) and so I am quite at home on the unfriendly London sidewalk. In fact, so far I have found the London sidewalk to be a tad more polite than the NYC one. Perhaps this has more to do with the generally wider girth of the pavement than with differing constitutions. If Londoners had to deal with a two-foot wide Lexington Ave sidewalk in rush hour, I am sure they too would shoulder roughly and rudely through groups of bumbling Italian tourists too.

In fact, sidewalks, mundane as it may seem, are one of the things I like so much more about London. In addition to actually being wide enough for two people to pass comfortably they are CLEAN! SO CLEAN! It’s just lovely, my friends. Do you know why they are so clean? If I told you the cars never have to move from their curb-side perches for noisy, ugly street cleaning machines would you scratch your head and mumble, “huh? How do they clean the streets?” Why with actual human beings of course! There is a man, with a wheely cart/trash bin and he goes around each and every car tire, sweeping up all the dirt and debris!! The guy on our small section of street was outside my window for a good two hours making sure our sidewalks and curbsides were clean enough to eat off of. Think how many jobs that would create for our unemployed NYC residents? Put those machines that seem to make the sidewalks and curbs more dirty than they were to begin with in the junkyard. Bring back good old manual labor!

And while we’re on the subject of trash… I love our Camden Council trash and recycling program (programme?). We have these little brown bins in our little courtyard where you put your leftover food and teabags which they then take to their composting center! They also come into our little courtyard to take the trash out of the bins so that you don’t have to leave your trash on the curb, and same with the recycling! It’s so convenient, and you don’t have to maneuver around unsightly heaps of foul-smelling trash, ever. Lovely. Just lovely. I love England. Wait, I mean, I’m so homesick for that time when NYC trash-men just didn’t pick up the trash for more than a week and you had to precariously walk through the one-foot gap between the 10-ft tall, malodorous, behemoth pile of disgusting garbage bags and the building!

I seriously love this city, and I’ve only seen a small fraction of it! Once I put this apartment in order (our sea shipment hopefully comes this week), it will be time to put Operation Explore London in full gear. And then once I’m tired of seeing London, maybe then I’ll start to get homesick. But somehow I feel like that is impossible. As Samuel Johnson once said, “When a man is tired of London, he is tired of life.”