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.”

Left, right. Pull, push.

Despite my decidedly dark hair, friends and coaches have often admonished me for acting blonde. I have done more than my fair share of ditzy things – not for the attention, no, merely because my brain just doesn’t work some ways. For example, here, in England, where they drive on the wrong side of the road, it is naturally imperative that you perform a switch-a-roo on that advice you’ve gotten since childhood. Look left, then right, now becomes, Look right, then left. This, my friends, is way too much for my slightly dyslexic brain to deal with. Even when they have the white lettering painted on the road admonishing pedestrians to “look right” I always look left first. I feel like I’m going to be blindsided.

Similarly, here in London (and I suspect the rest of England as well) all the doors to the shops open in. Now, I know in the states there is a lot of variation, but I feel like generally most stores have doors that open out. At least, I hope that’s the case, otherwise I would have no excuse for why every single time I go into a store I try to open the door the wrong way! Including on my way out, where I should know to pull rather than push, because on the way in, I had to feign that my pull had, oh you know, always been a push, I was just stretching my arm.

Which is way, ladies and gents, I will absolutely positively NOT be driving a car EVER while in this country. (Fear not, UK pedestrians!)

But speaking of driving – Has anyone been to parts of the UK other than London? If so, where did you go and would you recommend a trip there? Chris and I want to do some weekend exploration outside of London, but there are so many options it’s a tad overwhelming (in a good way)! (And yes, that amazing husband of mine will be doing the driving.)

Cultural Differences: a Case Study in Dirty Laundry!

I did a very un-adventuresome thing today. A very American thing. I sought refuge in the familiar. I went to Whole Foods.

Yup, there’s exactly one Whole Foods in London, England, and it is located right smack in between the two neighborhoods where most recent American ex-pats choose to live, Kensington and Notting Hill. (And yes, the British relocation company we’re using said Americans like living in Notting Hill because it’s familiar to them through the movie of the same name. Art/life – is there a difference? Apparently not to Americans.)

I went to Whole Foods because I’ve been having a heck of a time trying to find fragrance-free laundry detergent. (I miss you All Free & Clear!) Laundry detergents also have confusing labels here – they are classified as bio or non-bio. Bio means that the product contains stain-fighting enzymes, either natural or artificial in nature, and non-bio means it doesn’t have these enzymes. I’m not sure if American detergent has these enzymes or not! Anyway, the point of this boring thing is that I figured if I couldn’t find fragrance-free laundry detergent at Whole Foods, then I couldn’t find it anywhere in London. And I found it! Yay! I also got a whole bunch of Method cleaning products too. Although I miss my Mrs. Meyer’s countertop spray very badly. Who knew you could get so emotionally attached to cleaning products?

*Sidetrack* I also bought some free-range blue eggs.

It’s kind of hard to tell from the photo but they are this really lovely light teal color. They kind of match my kitchen cupboards actually!

Back to laundry reality. I didn’t even mention how all the laundry machines here are combined washers and dryers. Sounds cool, but it isn’t. It takes two hours to dry a miniscule amount of laundry and look how wrinkly everything is!

Dryers do waste a lot of energy though. Hang-drying may be tedious, but at least I’m saving the planet! And why do no American eco-crazies decry the use of dryers? It’s never even occurred to me before not to use a ****ton of energy to do what could be done with no energy at all. (Just a few extra minutes of hanging.) So my energy-gorging stateside friends, you too can live like a Brit today! Hang dry your laundry! Cheerio!

Pancakes and Flowers

When I started this blog last week I told friends that I would be posting one entry per day - Chris laughed. “Yah, right!” I think were his exact words. It’s been a few days since my last entry, so Chris, you were right. (He loves hearing that phrase.)

He’s also right that I own too many clothes. Our air shipment came today, seven large boxes full of mostly clothes and shoes, mostly mine. Right now I am in our new flat, (in our lovely bright and big kitchen because that’s the only place I can get the outlets to work!) and I am staring out into a living room full of clothes. Spilling over couches, chairs, all over the floor, an endless pile of stuff which I have to hide somewhere. You see, the Brits didn’t build closets in their homes back in the day – and so our lovely period conversion has cathedral ceilings, huge bay windows that throw in the sunshine, and generally oodles of charm – but no closets.

No matter. Ikea will once again prove our savior. (Thank goodness for international Swedish chains.)

Speaking of saviors… today is Fat Tuesday. Otherwise known as Mardi Gras. And here in Britain known as Shrove Tuesday… or Pancake Day! Yes, Pancake. Day. To celebrate Pancake Day, Brits eat lots of pancakes, and they have pancake races. Now, I am so sorry and so very sad to say that I missed said pancake races in order to be at our new home to receive the above-mentioned catastrophe of clothing, BUT I’ve been looking at pictures and it looks hilarious. I think next year I’m going to try very hard to enter one of these races. Running a relay race while flipping pancakes in a ridiculous outfit? What a brilliant idea! Anyone want to fly over and be on a team with me?

Check it out here.

Although, I must just say, that these are not pancakes, no, no, no, actually, they are crepes. Just add it to the list of food products that go by a different (wrong) name here!

And now, I am off to go explore Hampstead Heath in the brilliant, mesmerizing, un-hazy, bright-blue-sky sunshine!!! Yes that’s right folks, it’s really, truly SUNNY! I think London read my post on the weather and decided she better prove me wrong. I hope this is what spring has in store for us. Regardless, spring is turning out to be glorious here, with or without the yellow rays. See below for a sampling of early spring flowers – pictures taken from the day after we arrived up through yesterday. (Yah, you heard me right, there were flowers blooming in FEBRUARY! How’s that snow treating y’all?)

Isn’t it funny how the crocuses just spring up in the middle of the park

with no rhyme or reason? It’s like they’re poking up to play peek-a-boo.

Cadogan Place gardens in Chelsea

Exotic flowers flourishing in Hyde Park Gardens despite the February chill.

Striking purples stripes in St. John's Wood.

I’ve never seen such beautiful and abundant crocuses as the ones I’ve seen sprouting up all over London these past two weeks. The daffodils are lovely as well, of course, but the colors of the crocuses are really catching. I met a friend of a friend last week; we were exploring Islington, and I kept on saying “oh oh oh! Look! How beautiful!” whenever we saw a patch of flowers (which was frequently.) I think she thought I was quite silly. Like a five-year-old. What can I say? I just love the beauty in the everyday. And I am so lucky and blessed to be in such an extra-ordinarily beautiful place with my Chris, who is always right, and who always pretends to be interested in flowers.

later in the day...

Report from Hampstead Heath

Where do the waning remainds of the day find me? Why, perched in a tree on Hampstead Heath of course! I don’t have my camera, which is a shame because it is achingly beautiful from where I sit, my body comfortably ensconced by four perfectly arranged limbs of what must be a very ancient tree. The heath spreads before me: wild, untamed grasses – mower-virgin lawn spattered with trees, singly or in pairs – ponds behind me, hilly forest to the side. From my tree-top vantage point, I can just see in the very far distances the roof of a tall building which serves as my only reminder that I am near the heart of one of the world’s greatest metropolises. A man passing on the rough dirt path behind me serves as my only reminder of humanity. What futher is needed to complete this idyllic scene? Why myriads of birds chirping prettily in the background of course.

Well, maybe I am not as far removed from mankind as I’d like to think. An elderly couple just passed by and the lady remarked, “Why, you look quite comfy!”

Why yes indeed mam, I am quite so.

A blissfully enchanted romantic signing off,

because it’s getting a tad chilly

and now I have to figure out how to get down!

Yours,

Olivia

Food, glorious food! Nutella and more

I know I promised to talk about our new flat (aka apartment) today. But seriously – who am I kidding? – I really need to share the wonders of the British supermarket with you first.

No, that wasn’t sarcasm, but genuine pleasure.

Milk tastes SO good here! I was expecting the milk situation here to be similar to that in France (where every bottle of milk is pasteurized ten billion times so it can be stored on the dry goods shelves like Parmalat) but I forgot that Britain is a country of dairy farmers – and their milk ROCKS! And not just the organic stuff – just normal grocery store brand milk is SO GOOD! You should come visit just to try the milk.

Milk’s probiotic cousin, yogurt, comes in amazing flavors here (just like France.) Exhibit A:

That label on the right reads “notoriously nutty” – a delicious hazelnut yogurt (or yoghurt because the Brits also don’t know how to spell) with lots of hazelnut pieces inside. The Activia flavor (or flavour) is rhubarb and it is DELICIOUS! Yet another lactose-linked reason to visit.

Now on to a product I am sure you are all very familiar with: behold, Nutella. Everyone knows how wonderful it is. But... I swear it tastes better here!! (Attention all my study-abroad friends – didn’t Nutella taste better in France too?? Back me up here!) I hypothesize that it’s because of the glass jars. I think the plastic jars they use to ship their product to the states doesn’t retain the flavor as well. But for whatever reason, it tastes sublime, and I – unfortunately – discovered a disastrously dangerous combination.

*Drumroll please*

Pretzels dipped in Nutella!!!!

My poor husband scoured several stores and many aisles in a quest for pretzels last night, and now when he comes home he’ll find his stash obliterated. Oh well. It was worth it. In fact, I suggest going out and buying some (superior) American pretzels and (inferior) American Nutella and going to town.

Attention Nutella execs! I’m available for promotional gigs!

(Life rule #1 - always lick the spoon.)

Another way you can share in my British supermarket adventure is head to a fancy Manhattan grocery store and buy some of these McVitie's biscuits.They are delicious. And definitely expensive when imported, but not expensive here! Yum! Milk chocolate coated whole-wheat biscuits. My heart just skipped a beat. (not sure if it was gastronomic excitement or cholestrol.)

Lastly, since we’re meeting some of Chris’ British friends for drinks and dinner tonight, I though I’d end with some philosophizing on the state of alcoholic beverages in British grocery stores.

You remember how yesterday I said that the Brits are perfect embodiments of moderation? Well, you can just throw that theory out the window where alcoholic consumption is concerned. They drink SO much. Particularly, SO much BEER! But not necessarily good beer. In fact Budweiser is pervasive. But at least the Budweisers are super sized. Yup that’s right, every single can of beer (not just Bud) is this size:

Brits complain about Starbucks coffees and BigMacs being too big, but look at the size of the beers! I think this is a cultural difference we could get accustomed to ;)

And to end with a pretty, pretty picture…. Behold! Italian wine in a ….

Can???

Yum! Yes, my friends, not only was it less than two pounds, it was also two glasses worth, and delicious, and fun, and in a can decorated with pink scrolls and flowers! What more could a very tired girl ask for? Not too much.

Clouds & a smidgen of sunshine

I picked a really good day to blog about London weather.

Because guess what?

I saw the sun today!!!!

YAY!!!

Yes, naïve New Yorker who complains constantly about the weather, you live in a fantasyland of bright sunshine.

The only parallel between New York and London weather is the fact that everyone complains about the weather. But, in London, they complain that it’s cold when it’s a balmy 45 degrees, AND they complain when it’s cloudy and rainy, but it’s ALWAYS cloudy and rainy.

Except today. Today I saw the sun – briefly, yes – but at least I won’t develop rickets. (Process that Vitamin D sunshine!)

Maybe, I should elaborate – seeing the sun means that I could see the sun THROUGH the cloud clover. I never had an uninterrupted view. But I’ll take a slightly veiled sun over a completely obliterated one any day, thank you very much.

And now – on to the forecast. BBC weather has four options for any given day: white cloud, grey cloud, rainy intervals, or sunny intervals.

Yes, that’s right – they pretty much all mean cloudy. And yes, London is a city with such little variation in the dreariness of their climate that cloud cover has distinct types. What, might you ask, is the difference between white and grey cloud? As far as I can tell, it’s a difference in imagination. Kind of like a mirage. Oh, what’s that, a white cloud? What a lovely change, it’s been so grey!

In closing – I would like to say that the day Chris and I brilliantly choose to wander around the city doing touristy things - like visiting the beautiful but imposing Buckingham palace - was a day in which the BBC weatherman cheerily announced there would be sunny intervals. And sure enough, outside our hotel window that morning before we headed out, the sun was indeed shining!

And so it was, that ignoring my mother’s advice to ALWAYS CARRY AN UMBRELLA IN LONDON AT ALL TIMES, I decidedly rejected said sage counsel and left without one. We arrived at Buckingham Palace in the pouring rain, did a portion of our planned walk through Hyde Park’s lovingly maintained and flowering (even in February) gardens in the rain, before giving up and retreating to the indoor amusement park that is Harrod’s Department store. (which definitely deserves a post all it's own.)

Anyway, just in case you missed my point, the weatherman said sunny intervals, and it poured. Loooovely.

But don’t let the weather scare you off from visiting us – it’s still almost tropically warm and humid compared to New York and New England! And it's supposed to be sunnier in the summer - and never too hot! London weather - like most things British I am finding - is moderate.

And speaking of visiting…. Raise a glass to our new, small 2-bed apartment in Belsize Park! More on our new home tomorrow.

Cheers!

Welcome friends, family, and random facebook stalkers, to my first ever blog!

I have officially transitioned into the professional tourist position allocated me as wife of an American working in London. Perhaps “tourist” is too strong a word. I am not running around all day taking pictures of Buckingham palace and trying to touch the fuzzy, tall hats of the guards. (Although trying to touch their hats does sound fun, and we did go to Buckingham palace in the rain two days ago – more on that tomorrow.)

I would say that this blog is about the adventures of a London resident, except that “resident” implies a certain comfort level and ease, which – clearly – I have yet to attain. So here I am – a tourist without the double-decker tours – and here I will blog. My ultimate goal is to compile a list of useful information/anecdotes for other Americans moving to London, particularly wives. But for now, I’m content to describe to you (and perhaps whine to you a tad too) about life in London as an American without a work visa… aka, me, the professional un-tourist.

We’ve been here a week, and I’ve noticed so much that I could write pages and pages of disjointed stories and comments about every little thing we’ve done and experienced since landing in Heathrow last Tuesday morning after a red-eye flight from Boston. (Complete, yes, with screaming toddler, very uncomfortable coach seat, and fully booked plane… goodbye stealing-a-vacant-row-to-lie-down-and-actually-get-some-rest plans.)

So as much as I want to verbal diarrhea all over this page with every. single. inspiring thought I’ve had since touch-down (loads of them, I assure you), instead I am assigning my entries themes to add a bit of cohesion to my life, and my blog.

Without further ado, I give you a topic that I am sure I will return to weekly, if not bi- or tri-weekly:

THEY DO NOT SPEAK ENGLISH IN ENGLAND

Let me elaborate.

Chris’ office is near the tube (aka subway) stop called Borough. It is located in the council area (aka county) of Southwark. So right off the bat, without pronouncing anything, we have two stumble-blocks: tube and council. That’s fine, I can deal with different monikers for everyday nouns. Fine. Easy enough.

Tube = subway. Council = county.

But WHOAAAH. Wait. A. Second. How did you, kind British person announcing the tube stops, just pronounce that word??!! Yes, that’s right, you DID just say:

“BURRAH.”

I still have a hard time wrapping my phonetically-challenged head around that one. Burrah? Really?

Apparently if you pronounce Borough the right (duh, American) way, you’re really saying “burrow” – like the kind that dirt-digging creatures live in.

This complete breakdown in communication was rather embarrassing because for several days on end we were telling people Chris worked in an area and near a tube stop they had never heard of. But being their polite, un-intrustive, and generally disinterested selves, no Brit even questioned us! Not a single, “Hmmm, where’s that?” or “I’ve never heard of that stop” or anything.

So that’s the tube stop, now on to the general council area of Southwark. It’s pronounced like Suffolk – and no, there is no discernible difference between how the Brits pronounce the two. So if you say “South – Wark” – like a normal English-speaking person you will not be understood. BUT you won’t know you’re making a mistake, because the Brits are too polite to tell you so, and they just will think you’re a crazy person.

So friends and family when you come visit us – it is really important that you remember:

Borough = Burrow

and

Southwark = Suffolk.

Confused yet? Wait till you ask for an arugula salad! Then they’ll really know you’ve gone off your rocker.

Now. After that crazy tirade against the inability of the English people to speak English, I would like to say that I absolutely LOVE living in London so far! It is perhaps the most beautiful city I have ever visited, let alone lived in, and incidences like the ones described above humor me to no end (in a good way!)

Tomorrow I will move on to a description of the weather. Can you guess what it’s doing here now? Can you just? I’ll give you a hint… it’s been this way everyday, and it starts with a C- and ends with a -loudy. At least my dermatologist will be happy :)