AnarchE in the UK

Moving, Moving, Moving! (To Tumblr)

2011-08-15T19:09:00.000+01:00

Don't get too excited everyone... I'm still staying in the UK.
But I'm moving my blog. I'm now over on Tumblr, so be sure to visit and bookmark. I don't think I can automatically email updates any more so you're going to have to put some work in and actually "Follow" me! :)

http://anarcheintheuk.tumblr.com/

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Wonder Woman?

2011-08-14T23:07:00.001+01:00

I don’t know if this is an actual quote or if I’m misremembering, but I think I once heard someone say that the things we hate the most in others are but a reflection of our own worst qualities. Even if this isn’t an accurate quote, I still think it is somewhat true. I have long said that I hate weakness in others – especially in the opposite sex. I have been known to dismiss people and feel unrelenting contempt towards them solely on this trait alone. Well… just recently something happened that made me realise that perhaps the reason I am so demanding and unyielding in this aspect is because deep down, I can be pretty weak myself.

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Witch Lady

2011-08-14T18:42:00.004+01:00

Disclaimer: my nephew is perfect and exempt from this post. :D

My brother and sister will immediately know what I mean by the title of this post. I am referring to the scary woman who used to live at the bottom of our cul-de-sac and who would come outside and scream at any child who got within 5 feet of her driveway or yard. She even used to try to argue that she “owned” the part of the cul-de-sac that was in front of her house.

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The London Riots

2011-08-13T16:13:00.007+01:00

It’s been a while since I’ve updated my blog. I haven’t traveled anywhere super exciting (unless you count an unexpected foray into the underbelly of Wimbledon last weekend) and to be honest, the entire blog thing has slipped my mind. But the shameful acts of last week during what will probably be forever known as the “London Riots of 2011” have got me thinking.

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Berlin

2011-06-28T18:45:00.001+01:00

Mood: Exasperated, yet still happy
Theme Song: "It Can't Rain All The Time" - Jane Siebel

It's been a while since I've written, and for that I must apologise. I've gotten busy, and distracted, and it seems the older I get the shorter my attention span becomes, making it a real challenge to sit down and actually write a coherent sentence that is non work-related.

I think the one truth I'm discovering is that no matter where I go in my varied travels, my expectation of what the place will be like and the reality are two very different things. I'm not always disappointed (i.e. Nice, which was FABULOUS), but sometimes it all feels a bit anticlimactic. Berlin falls a bit into the latter category.

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Curiouser and Curiouser

2011-04-03T21:10:00.004+01:00

I am still holding to my resolution not to poke fun at London or complain just for the sake of complaining. However, I do have some unanswered questions that I must pose both to England and to Europe in general.

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Helsinki

2011-04-01T17:38:00.001+01:00

Finland… what do I think about Finland? I think it was COLD. And that frightened me because it was March. And all the Finns I met kept talking about how lovely the weather was. Those of you who know me well understand that I do not do well with cold – especially with windy cold. As I stood outside in the morning, awaiting a taxi, all I could think of was how horrible it must be in December when it is really wintertime.

After I got past the bone-chilling freeze and warmed up, I found myself surprised by Helsinki. It is much more industrial-looking and city-like than I had expected. I suppose that this is largely due to the fact that my main points of reference are all European countries with long histories of being governed my monarchies and so I expected to see soaring palaces and opera houses and government buildings. Instead, I saw this -

View from the Hotel Torni where we had cocktails, a building famous for having been used by the Allied (Soviet) Control Commission in Helsinki after World War II. Torni is one of the tallest buildings in the Helsinki cityscape.

To be fair the Helsinki Cathedral, and the buildings near it are quite grand – but not in the typical European fashion. I learned that this is largely due to the history of the city (something about which I am horribly ignorant) - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Helsinki. . I learned that Finland was owned for quite some time by Sweden (who didn’t do much for the country to be fair) and then in the early 19th century, was taken over by Russia. I think Finland gained independence in the early 20th century but then spent much of the following decades being ravaged by the two world wars. Thus the architecture is not overly surprising. That being said, I have to confess I found the city rather bleak. For some reason, I kept thinking “Eastern European” (probably from films and such) – which must be due to the Russian influence, because Finland is pretty far north and is considered part of Scandinavia.

The Finnish language is craaaazy. As I’m fascinated by linguistics, I did some googling and was a bit pleased to discover that the reason why Finnish didn’t remind me of any other language is because it is in a language family with such super-popular languages like Hungarian, Khanty, Mansi, Permic, Mari, Mordvinic, Sami, Estonian, Karelian, Veps and Votic. I am usually really good at picking apart a new language and finding ways to understand how it works. While in Vienna, I even came close to understanding the structure and phrasing of German. But Finnish threw me for a loop. “Hello, how are you?” becomes “Hei. Miten menee?”. “Thank you. It was a pleasure to meet you” becomes “Kiitos. Oli ilo tavata.” Now YOU tell me if that makes any damn sense at all! Even Japanese made more sense to me, and that is a language that doesn’t even use letters! Needless to say, the language made for great fun when reading signs. There were many double vowels (lots of “aa” and “ii”) and words that are three or four letters in English ended up being 12 or 15 letters long in Finnish.

But don’t just take my word for it… this picture (left) says “Academic bookstore” (or so I was told). Even if it says more, check out how crazy it all looks together!

And the food… oh, dear the food. I only had two experiences with “real” Finnish cuisine, and both scared me. One was at a rest stop – basically a Finnish truck stop where we stopped for coffee. There was a buffet and it was filled with… what I can only describe as trays of different coloured mush. Oh, and there were sandwiches which looked to be filled with mystery meat. But, as everything was in Finnish, I couldn’t even figure out what was on offer. The other occasion was when we ate lunch in the hospital cafeteria in Turku. Lunch consisted of an iceberg lettuce salad plus some bizarre interpretation of an enchilada (everything was day-glo orange… and I could just barely identify peas and chicken). Yuck, yuck, yuck. The hotel food we had, on the other hand, was perfectly acceptable and very Scandinavian. Lots of fish, vegetables and cheese. And the dinner at the Salutgorat restaurant (photo, right) was amazing. Of course, this restaurant was in the poshest area of Helsinki…

The second day of my trip was spent in Turku, which I learned used to be the capital when Sweden owned the country. We drove from Helsinki and encountered the craziest weather. It went from being sunny (but cold) to a sudden blizzard to rain to sun again – all in the span of about 90 minutes. This is what the view between Helsinki and Turku looked like -

Pretty exciting, huh?

The other thing I found interesting was the amazing cultural differences. Most people in Finland are either Swedish or Finnish and I don’t think I saw very many people of colour at all. I was shocked to overhear that a co-worker had been horrified to learn that her former boss was from Africa, as she “didn’t know if she could work for a black” (I’m not sure if that was because of a dislike of black people, or just not understanding the culture) – but she was pleased to find out he was actually from South Africa, and thus was white. The other comment that caught me off guard was when the chief of surgery at one of the hospitals was talking about her newborn baby, and how everyone had bought her pink gifts. She said, “I am sure happy I ended up with a girl, because if I had a boy I didn’t want him to be a homo!” This was said in casual conversation and elicited much giggling and laughter. I personally just sat there, along with my boss, our mouths agape. I still can’t work out if maybe it was just a translation issue (her English was very stilted) – but, still. Someone should remind her that English speakers don’t run around saying “homo”. Not what I had expected from Finland, that’s for sure!

However, I have to say that despite the cold, the unintelligible language, and the mystery meat, I did enjoy Finland. I get to return end of June, and I hear that this is the best time because it is actually warm and sunny. I am looking forward to walking the Esplanade and visiting the market by the sea. Perhaps I will even begin to understand a few words beyond “Eh” (no) and “Yo” (yes)!!

Kunnes seuraavan kerran ...

Vienna

2011-03-15T00:42:00.001Z

"Slow down, you crazy child
you're so ambitious for a juvenile
But then if you're so smart, tell me
Why are you still so afraid?

Where's the fire, what's the hurry about?
You'd better cool it off before you burn it out
You've got so much to do and
Only so many hours in a day
But you know that when the truth is told
That you can get what you want or you get old
You're gonna kick off before you even
Get halfway through
When will you realize, Vienna waits for you?" - excerpt from "Vienna", by Billy Joel

I arrived in Vienna late Tuesday evening after an all day meeting at a hotel at Heathrow Airport. For those not in the know, I have been in Vienna for my product's European launch meeting, where we officially launch celebrate the launch with our internal European colleagues. Total headcount was about 70 people and the meeting lasted from Weds evening - Friday afternoon. The fun part was that I had about 4 1/2 weeks to plan and execute everything, and for 2 of those weeks I was travelling in America.

I spent several hours working with our event team and agency teams setting things up and then collapsed into bed around 1am. I was up at 6:30am on Wednesday and after a quick breakfast, proceeded to run non-stop for the rest of the day, working to get everything set up for the big kick-off that evening. For anyone who has not planned a meeting, there is SO MUCH work to be done that people just don't see. Setting up all the signage, ensuring the breakout rooms are configured and arranged, getting the A/V and lighting just right, checking and rechecking all the orders with the hotel so that nothing goes amiss - it's an immense amount of actions to check off on a to-do list. I ran around all day Wednesday until we officially kicked off the meeting at 19h with a knowledge fair + dinner buffet. The highlight was when I asked for my hamburger at lunchtime to be cooked medium rare and I was told quite vehemently (like when I was in Germany) that "NO! That is ILLEGAL". I wanted to counter that was should be illegal is overcooking meat, but I was too tired to be my usual pain in the ass self.

When the meeting kicked off, I was eyes and ears the entire time, making sure everything was going well, organised properly, and that all my VIPs were happy. Once the meeting ended at 20:30, there were another few hours of set-up to do. I think I got to bed that evening about midnight.

I was up at 5am on Thursday, as this was the big kick-off day. All of my VIPs (including our Regional President for Europe) were giving presentations and the day was chock full of workshops, three of which I was running as well. The meeting ran from 8am - 5:30pm, and then we met again at 7pm to go to the big dinner gala. The gala lasted until 1am, and I made it to bed (after some urgent, last-minute emails) about 2am. I was up at 5am on Friday to deal with a logistical emergency. The meeting ran until 3:30pm, and then there was a good hour and a half of final details, packing things up, etc. By 5pm, I was ready to absolutely collapse. However, I rallied to meet the global team who had flown over from the U.S. for dinner, as I wanted to see Vienna on a Friday night. I got to bed last night at midnight, and then had the luxury of sleeping this morning until 9am. I worked until check-out at noon, and then spent the afternoon exploring a bit of the city, using up the very last of my precious energy reserves.

I'm proud to report that the meeting was an unqualified success. I had so many people complimenting the agenda, or the venue, and telling me that it was one of the best meetings they had ever attended. The gala dinner on Thursday night was at Palais Daun Kinsky, and people could not stop raving about it. Everything seemed to come together seamlessly and there were no snafus (that were visible to anyone besides myself and the event team). My boss, her boss and his boss were all extremely happy and I think I made a very good impression. I am more tired than I have been in years and I ache all over, but I'm happy. I wish I could disappear for a week to recharge, but that is most definitely not going to happen!

So, my thoughts on Vienna.

I really, really like this city. The people I have met have been amazingly helpful and friendly. I have very limited German, but I have found that they accept my attempts graciously and don't comment when I make grievous errors. I think it's just like in Paris - they like you more for making the effort. I did have a guy offer to "buy me" on the Karlsplatz... he said that in German and I thought I misunderstood, but when I asked him to clarify, he said in very loud, animated English "I.... BUY.... you!!!". I chose to ignore his obvious meaning and said winningly, "you buy me...frankfurter?" with a big smile. So I got a free lunch and managed to escape handily into a woman's shoe store thereafter. As expected, he did not give chase.

I have fallen in love with the architecture. I don't know why people don't build like that anymore, as it truly is stunning. I think what impresses me the most is the level of detail involved. Modern buildings, intricate though they may be, seem so boring and cheap compared to the grand designs of Europe. I just think that in 500 years, these buildings will still be standing. I doubt, however, that future alien races will marvel at our glass and steel monstrosities. (I will find out first-hand, of course, since I'll be having a robot body and will still be around, just like that little robot kid from AI)

Friday night at dinner we went to this charming little Austrian restaurant where the menu was all in German and the food choices consisted of boiled meat + potato, fried meat + potato or sausage + potato. I opted for the boiled version – called Tafelspitz – and it was surprisingly good. I loved the potatoes and carrots that came with it even more. I guess it feels familiar since that is pretty much standard Cincinnati fare – meat and potatoes.

I want to finish this blog entry before my next birthday, and so in the interest of time, I’m just going to bulletpoint the rest of my thoughts (apologies to those of you expecting more lush narrative…)

Smoking is still allowed in Vienna. You can have a smoking or non-smoking room. The restaurant we ate in was about as big as my flat and half of it was a “smoking section”. (Which was filled with an old man and a couple who were apparently trying to have sex with one another through their clothes during dinner… strange thing was no one seemed to mind this at all…)
German is easier to figure out than I originally thought. After so many days of hearing it and staring at it, it started to make a bizarre sort of sense to me – thus reinforcing my long standing belief that I have missed my calling as an uber-linguist and/or ninja spy. I am actually only sort of kidding in that respect, since I really am good with languages. I picked up the accent in Austria well enough to fool people into responding to me in full-blown sentences. I’d ask for water, or buy a ticket or ask for directions and then have to haltingly say, “Entschuldigen Sie… Ich spreche kein Deutsch. Sprechen Sie Englisch?”, using up all the German I have at my disposal.
The city was very clean – surprisingly clean given the number of tourists wandering to and fro
I now have Ameri-dar (kind of like gaydar, but for Americans). I can spot them miles away. In one case it was an obvious case of wearing a visor + Rockports, but in another it was all about the posture and the way they walked. I don’t know how to describe it but I can see someone across a crowded space and just know. Is it the look of overfed entitlement? Is the map-holding and stupid commentary? Is it the fact that they seem to congregate in fast-food restaurants with their loud, ill-behaved children? Or is it something more primal… a secret ancient sensing of one’s own “tribe”? These are the thoughts which keep me awake sometimes… LOL
I wonder if I’m that obviously American? I am thinking not, since I had so many people just walk up to me and start conversations in German. Not trying to sell you stuff German, just the “hi, how are you” kind of things. Must be because my family history is… well, German.
Many of the men do sound pretty much like Arnold – yes, the Governator. But there is a distinctive Viennese accent and they are quick to point out that they speak Austrian German, not regular German. Which is true… as their version is much more lyrical than say, Munich German.
I am an idiot. I didn’t need to go to Vienna to suss this out, but the trip reinforced it. I’d like to blame it on severe exhaustion and stress, but it’s pretty much down to me being a ‘tard. You see, I was reading all these magazines in my room and they kept mentioning “Wien” and going to “Wien” and so on and so forth. And so I was really puzzling out where this “Wien” place (I was pronouncing it “ween” in my head)… until at the end of my second day it just suddenly hit me that “Wien” = Vienna, just like “Munchen” = Munich. To quote my friend Charlie Sheen, “Duh”.
They seem to eat a surprising amount of fish in Vienna – this may not surprise others, but it did me.
The art history in Vienna is just as fascinating as the musical history. I am a HUGE Klimt fan, and it was fantastic to go see an exhibit at the Leopold Museum featuring him and Egon Schiele (another favourite). I’m thinking I need to do an Art History tour of Europe…

And with these scattered thoughts, I shall end this missive. I enjoyed my brief trip and I would love to go back – not only to Vienna (and explore the famous nightlife that I didn’t get to see, but some of my co-workers did until six in the morning ¬¬) but also to the rest of Austria. Which is funny because Austria was never on my list of places to see.

But I’m proud of myself because I pushed through the fatigue and spent a good 12 hours exploring the city, fulfilling my resolution to see as much of Europe this year as possible… and of course, not to deprive Europe of seeing as much of me as possible, either. ;)

Next stop? Helsinki… stay tuned!

Federman out.

The Airport

2011-03-08T18:48:00.001Z

I have a love/hate relationship with the airport. I love that being
here means I am off on a new adventure. I hate the hassle, though.

Take today. I had a meeting at a hotel near Heathrow Terminal 5. I had
to walk to the Terminal, take the elevator down a level, then go down
two more levels and wait 15min for a train. The train then took me one
stop to this weird junction where I had to follow this weird maze, go
on another elevator ride, more walking, two escalators... All before I
ended up outside of Terminal 3.
I checked into my flight with little drama - hallelujah for my BA
silver card which let's me hop to the first class line. Then I had to
go through security. I always pick the wrong line...this time I ended
up smack dab behind Ali Baba and what looked like three of his forty
thieves. These people were rocking turbans of some sort, massive
amounts of facial hair and were wearing what looked like old
bedsheets. They were setting off all kinds of alarms. They had to be
wanded, patted down, basically strip searched. And guess who was stuck
behind this little circus?

So I finally clear security and have to go through passport control.
Where the same thing happens EVERY time. "How long were you in the UK
for?" they ask. "I live here." I answer. Then there is much flipping
of passport pages and grumbling until they find my UK visa sticker.
*sigh*

I managed to avoid the sinful temptation that is the duty free
extravaganza (sooo hard. I don't wear a lot of makeup but I loves me
the packaging. So shiny, so pretty!) and ended up being pleasantly
surprised by my YO! Sushi salmon/tuna box. (Let's see if I still feel
that way in a few hours...)

I am now on the plane - after the mile long trek to the gate, the use
of some extremely dubious toilet facilities, and a jam-packed
weaving-all-over bus ride to the plane. I love how, even with assigned
seats, all these people were fighting to get on the plane. Where they
will sit for two and a half hours. Idiots.

But I am happy to be travelling and I can't wait to explore Vienna.

In other news, I have to get more pages added to my passport (tricky
feat as I have to be in town long enough to allow for the 10-14 day
processing time). When I got my passport in 2003, I never could have
imagined that I would have travelled - and would be travelling - so
much.

And despite my grumblings, I love it. Frankly, I start to feel
uncomfortable if I'm in town for too long. I'm not quite that guy from
Up In The Air, but I understand the bizarre comfort of the anonymity
of frequent travel. Especially these days when most hotel rooms tend
to be bigger than my current flat.

And now I am off... Shutting down before the flight attendant giving
me the evil eye makes it to my row.

Federman out.

E-Fed vs. Virgin Media

2011-03-07T22:06:00.001Z

I had no idea my little war with Virgin Media would prove so popular! As requested, the text of the infamous email is below. However I do believe I should provide some context to the situation first. I have Virgin Media for television, broadband and home telephone. I never use the home telephone (except for when I answer telemarketing calls for “Curtis”, something that is happening with increasing frequency). The broadband tends to work okay, except for when it doesn’t. And when that happens I just chalk it up to “England”, and wait 20-30 minutes. Voila, it comes back good as new. Up until recently, I’ve had no issues with my cable television (other than the fact I had to install it myself rather than wait the standard Slovakian 3 months that it normally takes in these here parts).

So I was out of town for the past two weeks, during which time I guess my love for cheesy television shows caused my Virgin Media V+ box to just go psycho. I returned to discover that none of my shows were recorded (no Vampire Diaries, no Nikita, no Mentalist, no Criminal Minds) and that, even better, my TV was stuck on FIVEUSA. My remote control would not change the channel, no matter how many times I replaced the batteries or unplugged and rebooted the V+ box. Knowing the pain that is Virgin Customer Care, I tried nearly every option – before I accepted the inevitable and picked up my home phone last night and dialed 150. The secret code for Virgin phone customers that gives you a direct line to customer service. Or so I thought.

What happened was a bit like that scene in Back to the Future where Marty and the Doc are high fiving each other because the dog came back from a minute into the future… and then the Libyans show up all fired up over some plutonium. Ok, bad example, but it still felt like an ambush.

I dialed 150, navigated through the labyrinthine automated menu, only to be greeted by a male human voice speaking a language I have never heard in my life. “Excuse me, sir?” I asked. “Did I call Virgin Media?” I did not understand the response, and indicated as such. And so, in the tradition of morons everyone, he began jabbering LOUDER at me, as if that would help. I pointed out – again – that I could not understand him. This went on and on, with me requesting to speak to someone who spoke English and him yelling at me. Finally, he just hung up on me.

I was irritated, but willing to give Virgin a pass. Everyone has bad days, and working in a call center has to suck. So I called back – picked up my home phone and hit those three magic numbers once again. This time I got a woman… who was no more understandable than the man. What I did discern was that she had major attitude problem. I’m talking Jackee in 227 attitude problem. I’m talking Lil’ Kim after jail attitude problem. She didn’t even really give me a chance, just began screaming at me and then hung up.

Now I was getting pissed off. I called again, punching those numbers in the automated system with controlled fury. I got a guy this time – who still was not intelligible. I tried to discern what he was saying, or where I was calling, but it literally sounded like he was speaking a language that has yet to have been discovered. I kept saying, “Sir, I have no idea what you’re saying to me. If you can understand me, can you please direct me to someone who speaks English?”. This went on for 14 minutes (I counted) before he simply screamed “AAAAAAARGGGHuuuuuiuhhyYOOOOOU” in the phone and hung up.

Ok, now I was really pissed, approaching DEFCON 2 (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/DEFCON). I called back again. Lesser men may have given up, but not me. I was on a mission and I was about to make someone feel the pain. This time I got a guy, who kept trying to tell me his name was “Rupert”. Um, not in this lifetime buddy, unless Rupert is a name commonly used by people in a country where they speak a language that sounds somewhere between the guy in the Simpsons who works at the Qwickie Mart + Klingon + drunken Polish. I had had enough at this point. I explained to him that I could not understand him, that I’m sure he was trying hard, but that I desperately needed to speak to someone who spoke English so I could get my damn TV fixed. I explained that I lived in the UK, and as such, expected to speak to people who spoke English. (At this point, I would have even settled for Geordie) I did not sign up for Virgin Whateverthehellcountryyou’rein, I signed up for Virgin Media UK. I have no idea what “Rupert” thought of this since I could not understand a damn word he said. After repeating myself six times (I counted, making tick marks on the back of a minicab flyer, each tick getting increasingly darker and more ragged), he finally put me on hold. I sat mute, hoping beyond hope I would get a nice supervisor who spoke English. I could be accented English – I didn’t care. I just wanted to hear something I recognised.

Alas, ‘twas not to be. I received a woman who identified herself as the “zoopwerwyyyysuher” and proceeded to yell and jabber at me for a good minute or so. I could only make out a few words, from which I used my context clues (learned in 4th grade… thanks Mrs. Bolin!) to piece together that she thought I was an asshole who hated people with accents (not kidding). I tried to explain that I had mass love for everyone, but that I wanted to find someone who spoke English. My argument was that if I habla’ed Espanol, I’d get someone who could habla away with me. Therefore I wanted someone who could speak English – plain and simple. “But klajfileuaflkdjaklfjdlkajflkdjalkakljdlaj!!!” she screamed at me. When I explained I couldn’t understand her, she said, in a painstainkingly slow pronunciation “youuuuuuueh lllliiiieeeeeeeee”.

Well, ladies and gents, that just set me off. I had been calm until then, but my blood was boiling. However, age and wisdom prevailed (and more honestly, fatigue, as I had been at this now for 45 minutes) and so I tried to remain calm. I tried to work with old girl, even telling her that since she couldn’t speak English, if she could spell the letters, we could try to communicate that way. So thus went the next 20 minutes of my life.

Her: “alkdjlkajflkdjlkfjadlkjflakjfkdlajfkldajflkdjalkfjad”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am. I have no idea what you just said. Could you spell it please?”

Her: “Wuuuh-ahahaich-ahhh-tuh zeee-ehhh-ehhh-muuuuu-zeeee tooooo buh zuh kaljdlkajfkldjalkfjdakljfldakjlakj”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am. I’m moving a bit slow. If my Hooked on Phonics serves me well, are you trying to ask me What seems to be …something or other?”

And so, and so forth. Until I had explained my issue and she had spelled out some sort of half-ass resolution. Which still made no sense. At this point, I had been dealing with this mess for 1h 14m, and was near an Incredible Hulk level of rage. I chose to just smile, nod and hang up rather than fight the good fight.

But I couldn’t resist. I tried one more time… and this time on the magic 150 line, I got someone in the UK. Or at least with a UK-style accent. And I let loose, boy did I let loose. If you think the above was harsh, you should have heard me – pacing my living room in my boxer shorts and T-shirt, cup of green tea in hand, hair all wild and filled with the fiery fury of a thousand dying suns. Hence, the £50 credit.

Most people would have been happy to stop there.

I am not. most. people.

I decided to send one of my famous email missives, reproduced for your viewing pleasure below. The result of said email was a phone call today from Virgin Customer Care (in the UK, natch) and an additional £45 credit being added to my account. There was also quite a bit of apologising. I pointed out that while I appreciated the credit and the apologies, what I would appreciate more is a call centre where people speak English. Well, apparently their computer systems allow them to track the people who answered my call (who naturally didn’t record any notes in my file, of course)… this is because I called from the Virgin batphone (my home phone). So I know a few crazy ass foreigners who are not having a good day right now… *evil grin

I didn’t consider the following email to be my finest piece of work – it was written in anger – and even now in copying it, I have to resist the urge to edit, to finesse, to improve. But here it is… over-the-top, furious and quite entertaining with a bit of distance. I hope you enjoy. I know I’ll sure enjoy my two months of free service!

The Email

“Dear Virgin Customer Care:

I am writing this letter to complain about the horrendous service I received while dialling Customer Care (150 from my home phone) on Sunday, 6th March. My account number is ******** and I have been a Virgin Media Customer since October 2011.

I attempted to contact your Customer Care department, as directed by your website, to report a fault with my Virgin Media V+ Box. I ended up spending 1h 15m on the phone, during which I spoke with five of your “representatives” – three of which yelled at me, insulted me and hung up on me.

The larger issue is not the unconscionable abuse I received from your employees, but rather the fact that not one of the five representatives with whom I spoke had a proper command of the English language. To be clear, I’m not referring to bad grammar, or a heavy accent, or even a speech impediment. I am referring to the fact that each of them sounded like an emissary from a foreign country populated by rude, incompetent and mentally unbalanced radicals. I realise that sounds extreme, but I encourage you to search your records for your calls. I made my first call at 21:08 GMT from my landline, ***********. Subsequent calls followed thereafter as I was continuously screamed at and hung upon.

As an American living in the United Kingdom, I have come to terms with the poor levels of customer service offered by companies. I have realised that what I would consider to be absolutely intolerable and unacceptable is simply the norm. I have spent hours arguing with customer care representatives from all sorts of industry – utilities, department stores, estate agencies – just to be granted what I consider to be the basic minimum of acceptable customer support. However, at no time have I ever been so offended, insulted and abused as when I called your Customer Care office for assistance.

For a company that likes to maintain that you are committed to customer care, the actions of your employees speak otherwise. I strongly doubt your company mission or vision involves hiring unintelligible associates who make a practice of abusing and insulting your customers. I switched from Sky because of their horrible customer service. It was extremely depressing to realise that I preferred dealing with them, because a) at least I could understand them when they refused to support my needs and b) they never insulted, screamed at or hung up on me.

I realise that I am just one customer of many and that if I leave your service, you will not suffer greatly. However, what I can promise you is that I will trumpet my cause far and wide. One of me may not cause a problem. A hundred may raise eyebrows. If I can communicate to a thousand – or more – of your customers, then you are facing real issues. Because everyone knows that the power of one dissatisfied customer outweighs even the best marketing or retention campaign (I should know, I’m in that industry). I can assure you that if my issues are not resolved to my satisfaction, that I will leverage the power of my extensive social networks to share my horrible experience with your company.

In today’s political environment, I doubt the hard working taxpayers of the UK would be pleased to know that jobs are being shipped offshore and taken from their reach – only to have those self-same UK taxpayers be insulted and abused by people who don’t even have a 10 year old’s command of the English language.

I expect a representative of your company to contact me immediately to resolve this issue. I look forward to learning how you will be addressing the grievous errors perpetrated by your “representatives” as well as to how you plan on retaining my business.

Regards… “

Adventures in America, part 1

2011-02-22T23:38:00.002Z

Outward Journey
I am too much of a damn princess these days, and not necessarily in a good Avril Lavigne rock star way. I had to fly American Airlines (instead of British Airways) because it was much less expensive and would you believe I actually threw a fit (in my head) because AA doesn't have fully lie-flat seats in Business Class? The last time I flew to California it was in Premium Economy and I felt like I had been beaten with a stick the whole way. I quickly realised I needed to slow my roll, big time. I was very VERY lucky that my company adopts a humane approach to transatlantic travel regardless of the airline. And the seats went 98% flat, and we had really fancy nice food.

The flight over to LA was pretty uneventful, except for the fact that I went through a box and a half of tissues. I woke up the Sunday before I left feeling like I had been run over by a freight train and it was no better that Monday when I flew out. I felt so bad for the guy sitting next to me because every five minutes I was blowing my nose. By the time I got to San Diego, I was exhausted and ready to collapse. I checked myself into the hotel (a very nice Hyatt in Mission Bay) and went immediately to bed, do not pass go. No, wait, I cannot tell a lie. I ordered a room service hamburger that I didn't really eat. But it sure smelled good. It smelled like America, land of real beef that they will cook any way you like.

San Diego is absolutely as beautiful as I remember it. It's a gorgeous city, and a really nice mix of old and new, modern and manageable. The water is gorgeous and so relaxing and I loved waking up everyday and opening my patio door in the hotel room to stare across the bay. There were birds and boats and palm trees and it was just... serenity.

The next few days were spent working out in the field with a sales rep and then at the annual AAOS Congress. The highlight was on Thursday when one of our agency representatives took me to a business lunch. We needed to discuss some things about upcoming events and so we decided to leave the confines of the convention hall and seek sustenance out in the real world. The convention center in San Diego is right by the Gaslamp District and so there were many restaurants to choose from. We settled on Nobu because we both love sushi, and Nobu is known for having awesome sushi. By sheer dumb luck, we ended up with two seats at the sushi bar and so we proceeded to murder the menu. And then it happened. We decided to have just one more spicy tuna roll. Right after we ordered, we heard loud yelling and commotion.

There was a man standing in the middle of the restaurant, very disheveled looking, and he was yelling at the top of his voice. I couldn't understand what he was saying at first, but I noticed the entire restaurant had gone deathly silent. A line of people who were waiting for a table suddenly moved quickly back out the door. And then the man yelled, "I've got 75 grams of Lithium!!!" along with some other nonsense. I don't know if I've just seen too many episodes of CSI and Criminal Minds and Law and Order, but my brain translated "lithium" as something like "plutonium" at first, and I swear my heart stopped beating. For about a good 30 seconds, I really thought the man was holding some kind of radioactive material and was threatening to nuke the place. So many thoughts went through my head - "Can I make it to the door?", "What the hell?" and "Holy shit, is this how it's going to go down for me? I'm going to die because I just had to have one more damn spicy tuna roll??!!"

The man kept yelling and then it seemed like everyone was able to breathe again and the noise level in the restaurant returned to normal. Some men from the kitchen came out and I think they escorted the guy out back onto the street. It turns out he was a recently released mental patient. Because, of course, the first thing you want to do as a recently released mental patient is run smack dab into the middle of the city's most prestigious sushi restaurant and start yelling.

I am thrilled that he was just a normal crazy and not a blow-the-place-up crazy. But I have to tell you, it really put things in perspective. I realised, sitting on my stool, surrounded by delicious food and congress attendees in their suits and ties, that nowhere is really safe. And that Americans really do live inside a perfect little bubble of safety. Even after the tragedies of 9/11 and Oklahoma City, we still tend to go about our business as if nothing bad could ever happen to us. The idea of a sidewalk bombing or a suicide bomber rushing into a crowded restaurant is unthinkable. And yet, in all honesty, there is nothing to stop anything of that happening. Sobering thoughts.

Seattle
I flew to Seattle at the end of the congress to spend the weekend with friends. I got lucky enough to sit next to a mother and son on the flight who talked nonstop. The child was 2, and he was adorable... for about 20 minutes. And then he was basically a walking advertisement for birth control. He wasn't a devil child, he was just a two year old on a several hour flight. Which, let me tell you, is no fun to sit next to. He was up, he was down, he was crawling around, he was yelling, he was poking, he was crying when he had to sit in his seat, he was spilling cranberry juice on me. He did get entertaining as we were about to land because he kept yelling, "Seattle! Seattle!" and his voice was LOUD. The entire plane was cracking up laughing because the kid was SO excited to be going to Seattle, even though I'm pretty sure he didn't know who or what a Seattle was.

I spent a wonderful few days catching up with friends, during which I actually sang karaoke at a place called the Tiki Bar. And, like Forrest Gump, that's all I have to say about that.

I miss Seattle. I love how green everything is, and how spacious the city is. Driving around, I kept marvelling at how wide the roads were, and how much room there was for everything. After England, Seattle seems like a playground of space. I was also struck by how many stores there were. On every corner. It's not like that as much in England. If you want to buy something, you have to really want it because it's a production. There are no Wal-Marts or Targets where everything is at your disposal. There are no Rite-Aids which have everything from gardening tools to makeup to groceries to small electronics. I started to feel the old pressure..."Buy, buy, buy". I don't feel that in England. I still want stuff, but because I know that it's at least a train ride + a few tube stops to get anywhere decent, I carefully consider my purchases. Well, that and also the fact that everything is ridiculously expensive.

I did have a facial and that was pure heaven. America knows facials. The ones I've had in Europe have been embarrassingly bad. No glycolic peel. No steam clean. No vitamin treatment. No extractions. Just a bunch of washing the face and slopping gloop on it, which doesn't help anyone involved. So it was glorious to spend an hour being pampered and having my skin really looked after.

I have severe housing envy now, too. My friend's place where I stayed is absolutely gorgeous - it's a two bedroom, two and a half bath condo - and we worked out that once you convert my rent from pounds to dollars, we are essentially paying the same amount a month. Which is mega depressing. She has cathedral ceilings, a huge kitchen, a patio, a two car garage, wall to wall carpet, two floors, a massive walk in closet, a huge master bedroom and master bath... the list goes on and on. I have a fourth-floor walk up with periodically functioning appliances, sporadic heating, rugs that I am scared to black light for fear of what I might see and gravitationally challenged furniture which I assembled myself. I won't lie, I miss the American standard of living. If anything were to bring me back to the US, besides missing friends and family, it would be the fact that I could live a much better life for my money.

Cleveland
I flew out this morning from Seattle to Cleveland. I got upgraded because I flew Delta and I still hold status with them, and my cabin was filled with the elderly and the obese. That is something I've definitely noticed on this trip - how much bigger Americans are. While the English aren't the most svelte people in general, they have yet to achieve the rotund physique of many Americans. I've noticed that seeing someone really huge is a rarity overseas. It seemed that 8 out 10 people I've seen so far over here are overweight in some fashion. Now, I know that I am not going to be on the cover of Maxim or Fitness magazine anytime soon, so I'm not judging.

I just find it somewhat depressing. America is so wealthy compared to other countries, and there are so many places and ways to exercise, and yet as a nation, we choose to stuff ourselves and live unhealthy lives. Where I live in England, there aren't many gyms or workout places, so I tend to work out in my apartment or go for runs around my neighborhood. But over here, it's so easy! There's a gym every couple blocks it seems.

Of course, what also struck me were how many restaurants there were, and fast food. We don't have that in England. There are pubs and there are restaurants, but not huge chain places and not so easily accessible. I also noticed all the food commercials on TV - that's a big difference too. It seems America is a culture that worships the super thin and yet everything about our marketing and media and commerce is centered around more is better and eating, eating, eating. I'm staying in a Marriott and around me there are SIX different restaurants within walking distance... and that's not counting the four across the street, or the ones down the block, or the ones further down from that, and so on and so on. Just makes me wonder - who needs that much food all the time? And the restaurants are not healthy options either - Mexican (well Americanised Mexican), The Olive Garden, Red Robin, etc. I think it would be more palatable if the food weren't overprocessed and served in ridiculously large portions. I mean Red Robin has bottomless baskets of fries. Sure sounds like a great idea, but healthy it is not. (I do have to admit that I have, on occasion, been known to put the hurt on some Red Robin, though.)

I went over to some friends of mine while in Seattle who happen to be from France. They made lunch, and here is what they made - pate with french bread (delicious), a roasted salmon, roasted zucchini and rice. Dessert was fresh fruit. We had a glass of white wine with lunch and then coffee afterwards. This is apparently normal for them - the way they eat and the way they cook. The food was delicious, filling and healthy.

I've noticed this in the UK - that the Europeans on my team tend to insist on actually taking a lunch, and going down to the cafeteria to sit and eat for 20-30 minutes. They get really grumpy if I suggest grabbing a sandwich and taking it back to our desks. My American friends reading this will understand that eating a sandwich is normal for lunch, or grabbing a burger or a frozen meal or something like that. One thing I have learned living abroad is to really take my time with my meals and appreciate the food. I do miss the convenience factor of frozen meals, but I do enjoy sitting down to a real meal more. It helps that the frozen meals in England are absolutely disgusting (at least to me). Maybe if more Americans took time preparing their food and then sitting down to eat it, we would be healthier?

I'm off to test some of my theories by having dinner here in the hotel. I know I'll be shocked by portion size and yet simultaneously thrilled by the low, low price for all that food. What can I say - it's the American in me. I love a good value. ;)

More to come as the adventures continue, and as the DayQuil continues to work its magic and my mind clears... (I love American OTC drugs!!)

Federman out.

Homeward Bound

2011-02-14T09:50:00.000Z

I know I have been horribly remiss at keeping this blog up to date, and that is something I will strive to change in the future. I always have these great ideas on the train, or in the shower, and I mean to put them in my blog - and, in typical absent minded professor fashion, I forget.

This morning I had a bit of a tussle with my driver. My team administrator was nice enough to order a car service for me, so imagine my surprise when I walked outside to find a vehicle the size and shape of a panel van waiting for me. I reminded the driver that I was only one person and he said that he just takes the vehicle he is assigned to. As I am such jolly good fun in the morning, I felt compelled to point out that we had ordered car service, not van service. He didn't like that so much. I swear he drove over every speed bump he could find on purpose just to make my life miserable. I swear I think a rickshaw would have had better suspension and given a smoother ride. So I got to make the 1 1/2 journey to the airport in the back of a serial killer van being driven by a pissed off fat dude with a bad attitude and an even worse Cockney accent.

I am sitting in the Admirals Lounge at Heathrow awaiting my flight to California. I'm off on a bit of a work/fun jaunt to the U.S. - my own four-city tour of awesomeness. San Diego, Seattle, Cleveland and Cincinnati. The Admirals Lounge is not nearly as nice as the BA Galleries Lounge. The bacon rolls are on the wrong sort of bread, although they do have tomato on them here. But I think that's less of a "let's be healthy" feature and more of a "if we load this up with cheap tomato, maybe they won't notice that there's not that much bacon" approach. The bacon rolls that BA offers are like 1/4 pig they are so thick. Now that's how I like my bacon rolls to roll ;)

I am fighting the beginnings of a cold - my throat is scratchy, I'm all stuffed up and I'm coughing up a lung. I'm currently all hopped up on Beechams Ultra (kind of like DayQuil without the "I'm on crack" feeling) and Vick's VapoRub. I am hoping to get some sleep on the plane because I really did not sleep at all last night. I went to bed at about 12:30 am after chatting with my brother and I kept waking up every hour or so. I'm not sure why, but I find this always happens the night before an early flight. It's like I'm afraid I won't wake up on time or something. Considering that only happened to me ONCE, and it was in Evansville, Indiana after a night of way too many shots and jokes about Sir Beef, I'm not sure why I'm so paranoid. (Incidentally, the Evansville story is hilarious. I made it on to that plane with literally seconds to spare. I don't know how I did it but I managed to shower, check out of the hotel, return the rental car and get to the plane in like 40 minutes.)

I'm really looking forward to going back across the pond. I plan to eat salads... real salads, and lots and lots of them. If there is one thing that England cannot do well, it's make a decent salad. (I won't even touch how furious it makes me that they insist on referring to the lettuce + tomato + onion that goes onto a sandwich as "salad").

On a side note, there are some funky looking people in this lounge. It's a good thing you don't have to be attractive to get in here, or the place would be empty except for me and the woman sitting next to me who looks like a Ralph Lauren model. Oh and that cute guy over by the bacon rolls. But I've just seen him eat four bacon rolls, two yogurts, three danishes and six croissants so I'm getting a bit concerned. I'm also a little worried about the old guy sitting in front of me with SIX duty free bags which are all chock full of alcohol. He looks confused enough as it is without adding booze to the party... And well looky there, bacon roll guy just got himself a glass of red wine. At 09:42 in the damn morning. I sure hope I'm not sitting next to him, as I worry about the after effects of these choices.

And on that note, I'm going to go apply a second coat of Vicks VapoRub (thus assuring that any man who displays interest in me must REALLY be interested) and stuff my pockets with packets of green tea for the long 11 hour flight ahead.

I love travel. ;)

Dancing - America v. England

2011-01-16T21:37:00.000Z

Mood: Happy
Theme Song: "Flipside" - Moloko

I'm watching the latest season of "Got To Dance" - basically the UK equivalent of So You Think You Can Dance - and I can't help but be amazed by the vast difference between what is considered "good" dancing in the UK, and what we think is good back in America. I find it to be pretty consistent when dealing with established forms of dance - salsa, lyrical, ballet, ballroom. It's when people come out and try to "street dance" or freestyle that my eyes start burning.

I'm honestly not trying to poke fun here - I really don't understand how certain things are considered "good dancing" or "rhythmic". I know that England is an island, but they get MTV and they are highly influenced by American culture. What they appear to not be influenced by is the ability to stay on beat or "feel" the music. I've just watched a series of dancers come on the stage, jerk around like they have epilepsy but because they "pop" some part of their body or wear a hoody and jeans, they are lauded as being "real" and "street".

I am not exaggerating when I say that I've given better performances drunk in the middle of the street. The whole thing leaves me rather frustrated, and frankly, speechless. I'm really hoping that some of my English friends will read this and try to explain. Because I don't get it. A beat is a beat. You're either on it, or off it. Mimicking a video and throwing up a lot of rapper hand gestures does not make you a dancer. Hell, I do that five days out of seven for no reason when I'm waiting for my train. You don't see me trying to win money on a TV show.

American friends, do me a favor. Check out this dance troupe - and give me your honest opinion. Am I being too harsh? Have I just been away from home too long? They won the title in 2009 and are universally lauded as being real "hip-hop" dancers. To me, they look like mediocre extras from a late 80s Janet Jackson video. The little kid is cute, but I bet there are any number of 4-6 year olds in any neighborhood in America who would clean his clock without thinking twice.

I made a resolution last year to stop making fun of England, and I think it's a good one. Rather than make fun, I am really trying to understand the culture. It's just hard when I encounter things like this - where there is such a HUGE gap between what I see as reality and what the Brits accept. Although, in thinking about it, what most Americans think about England is really, really incorrect so maybe it's just fair play.

I welcome your thoughts.
Now, seeing as how anyone and their grandma can get on this TV show, I'm off to practice my moves so I'm ready for the next round of auditions... =)

One Year Anniversary

2011-01-04T21:38:00.001Z

Mood: Contemplative
Theme Song: "Theme Song to Laverne and Shirley"

Happy One Year in England to me!

As of yesterday, I have been living in England for exactly one year. And while I'd like to say "Oh my god, it went by so fast!", the truth is that I felt every single minute and every single day. I think it's fair to say that 2010 was by far the most challenging, frustrating, and yet amazing year of my life. And while there were days when I didn't want to leave my bed, let alone my apartment, I wouldn't trade the past 365 days for anything in the world.

Moving to England has been by far the best thing I have ever done for myself - better even than that time I allowed myself to eat $100 worth of sushi. This experience has pushed me far past all of my comfort zone and way beyond my normal boundaries. And all I can say, even as I'm still nursing some bumps and bruises, is how grateful I am for having this opportunity.

I began this blog as a way of chronicling my adventures overseas, but I had no idea what a wonderful time capsule it would be, and what a great mirror into myself. A year into this, I am confident I could now live anywhere in the world, English-speaking or not. (In fact, I wager that it would be somewhat easier to live in Japan or Russia or Kabul because I would immediately expect things to be different. In England it's hard because the language is the same and so many other things are the same and so the differences really, really stick out and surprise.) The idea of starting over again doesn't scare me or worry me - in fact, it thrills me a bit if I'm honest. I've learned, truly, that life is what you make it. I can make friends anywhere and I can live my best life anywhere on this planet (or beyond). It's all down to me.

I could spend ages writing about all the things I've learned this year - tangible things (like how to navigate the English system or things I learned about Asia) - and I'm eventually will. But what is on my mind right now are the intangible things I've learned.

If an unhappiness follows you from one country to another, then you can't blame it on anything outside yourself. I learned that I was carrying a tremendous amount of baggage that was weighing me down, emotionally, mentally, and even physically (sad people don't get out much and so they're not in the best health).

Being isolated from your friends and family forces you to deal with certain things all on your own, and to abandon what would normally be cause for a full-on pity party. I think the best example of this was this past Christmas. I went into a full-on emotional tailspin because I was away from home, away from my friends. I literally spent four hours one night just curled up in a ball and crying. I say that not to elicit sympathy but to point out the ridiculousness of my behavior. I think had I been back home or more comfortable in my surroundings, I never would have snapped out of that funk. As it was, I had no choice but to face myself in the mirror and lay down the law. While it's okay to be sad every now and then, feeling sorry for myself gets me nowhere. It's a vicious cycle with no positive end.

Being in a new place where you need to make new friends forces you to really see yourself and really think about the kind of people you want in your life. I spent the first part of the year trying to be friends with anyone I could, and accepting dates haphazardly because I was - quite frankly - lonely. As I settled down, and began to know myself more, I realised that there are no hard and fast rules about these things. I needed to trust my gut - and realise some hard truths about myself. I'm picky, I'm demanding, I'm not going to be friends with everyone. I will always have many, many acquaintances - because I'm that crazy social extrovert who is doing the Centipede at group gatherings for no reason - but those who will be my friends, and those who could be something more - will always be few.

Being in a different time zone than most of your friends and family also forces you to have more detailed conversations with yourself - and to actually listen to what that voice inside your head is saying. And sometimes it doesn't make very much sense at all. In fact, sometimes that voice inside your head is speaking an entirely different language. This past year has allowed me to become fluent in my own language, and more importantly, to know when I'm feeding myself a line of bull. ;) Having that filter has also helped me to clearly define what I do and don't want from myself and what I deserve from friendships, career, relationships. The more I course-correct and add a "don't do that!" to my list, the more I learn and grow.

I think the biggest lesson I've learned between pre-England me and me now is confidence. I've always felt strongly about my abilities, but it has taken the daily battering of navigating a new country and culture to force me to have a better understanding of myself. It's a bit frightening, but I really feel as if this past year was when I finally... FINALLY... became an adult. A really fun, crazy, and completely impractical adult - but a grown-up nevertheless.

I realised the other day that I have finally stopped comparing everything to America, and that I don't immediately convert £ into $ in my head anymore. I have finally come to terms that England is not America and never will be, and if I can just get over that fact, I can begin to appreciate all of the wonderful things this country has to offer. I had cocktails in the May Fair bar in Westminster the other day, and it was fabulous to sit on a plush sofa drinking an overpriced vanilla martini and listen to the hilarious conversations of the nouveau-riche. London had better brace itself, because I'm all in for 2011.

I am so looking forward to the next 12 months. Life is truly what we make of it, and I intend to make this year absolutely stellar. When I write about my second anniversary in England, I hope that it is with happiness and joy and a huge smile, as I'm looking back at amazing adventures with amazing people. I also hope that I will finally have mastered the Soulja Boy dance, but I probably shouldn't get ahead of myself just yet... ;)

Federman out.

English Christmas

2010-12-26T15:05:00.001Z

Mood: Happy, Peaceful
Theme Song: "Candy" by Aggro Santos feat. Kimberly Wyatt

This year marks my first-ever Christmas outside the United States, and not spent with my immediate family. And while it was rather surreal to be so far away, I ended up having an absolutely wonderful time.

I think it's important to share that Christmas in England is taken very, very seriously. NOTHING is open, save for a few off-licenses (liquor stores) and quickie marts. It's not like in the U.S. where there are limited hours for last minute items or gifts. If you didn't plan ahead, then you're out of luck. Not even public transportation is running, so if you want to get around, you'd better have money for a cab (and patience to wait) or know someone with a car.

Yesterday, I was lucky enough to experience a true "English" Christmas dinner. I spent the day with Marianne and Joe Slade (see, Marianne, your name in lights AGAIN!!!) at Joe's grandmother's house.
So, what do the English eat on Christmas? I can't speak for every English person, and I'm sure that just like in America it will vary by region and cultural background, but here is what we had:

Roast turkey - tasted the same, but the turkey was much smaller than what we're used to in America. I think it's called a "turkey crown" over here - just the top part of the turkey, because the ovens over here won't accomodate a full bird
Turkey gravy - was delicious. Made from scratch and just perfect
Roast potatoes - these are my all-time favorite side dish here in England. There are so many different ways to make them, the most traditional being with goose fat and bacon or pancetta.

MMMMMM.... POTATOES.... YUMMY YUMMY!!

Steamed broccoli and carrots
Roasted parsnips
Mashed Swede (aka Rutabaga) - I didn't know until yesterday that a swede was a rutabaga
Brussels Sprouts and Roasted Chestnuts - yum!
Stuffing - English stuffing is different than American stuffing. It tastes similar, but is very different. It's made in a pan (like a casserole) or in a log.
Small English Sausages - they look like cocktail sausages, but are REAL sausages and taste amazing
Pigs in a Blanket - but not what you're thinking. These aren't mini hot dogs in bread. They are English sausages wrapped in English bacon, and they are deelish.

And then for dessert... or rather, "pudding" (because the English call every kind of dessert pudding, no matter what it is - and they don't understand what I mean when I refer to pudding (like Jell-O style)), we had:

Sherry Trifle - absolutely delicious. Very sweet, and I think it's made from sponge cake and sherry (duh). Click the link for a full recipe to try yourself!
Mulled wine - the first time I had this was when I celebrated Thanksgiving with Marianne and Joe, and I didn't care for it so much. (Turns out Joe had augmented the recipe with an overly generous helping of Cointreau, which explained why it tasted like something that could power a small SUV). Yesterday Joe made it normally and it was perfect for a cold, icy winter day.

You may have noticed that the Christmas dinner lacked the carb overdose which is so typical of American gatherings. More vegetables than potatoes, and no endless baskets of bread.

At 3pm, we turned the television on to watch the Queen's annual Christmas speech... which, to be honest, I didn't quite understand. I have to give Her Majesty credit, as I think she's about 85 years old and still going strong. However, her speech made no sense to me. I know it was about Christmas, and the Bible (they showed a lot of pictures of it), but the rest seemed to be about playing sports with various kids. Which I think is great, but I'm not sure how that had anything to do with King John or his Bible (which she talked about alot). But don't take my word for it - check it out yourself here - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AsVZmqXED1c. I was a bit disappointed because Joe had told me that it was tradition to sing the English National Anthem after the Queen's speech, so I had practiced the words and even emailed them to my phone. This, it turns out, was a joke.

After dinner, we tried to go the pub near my house for a Christmas cocktail, only to find that despite having all the lights and televisions on, it was closed. The sign on the door showed that it had only been open for 2 hours that day! In America, you can ALWAYS find a place willing to take your money and sauce you up! So we went back to my flat, where I served tea and chocolate and Joe fixed my wobbly table (*happy dance, happy dance*).

Today is Boxing Day and despite the fact that it is England's biggest shopping day of the year (like American Black Friday), I woke up to find that the trains aren't running! I knew that service was limited, but a friend of mine told me he thought that service was on today (because of the shopping). It turns out that there is limited bus and underground service only.

I wanted to go into town to meet a few friends and peruse the sales - to do so, I would have had to take 3 busses, a tram and the tube. Adding to the fun is that there is another tube strike going on so some lines are running, but with delays, or diversions. I honestly thought about chancing it, and while I'm pretty sure I could get there with limited drama, I'm not so sure about getting back. And so I'm having a lovely lazy day, updating this blog, drafting the first chapers of my book and catching up on all my recorded TV shows that I never catch during the week.

2011 is going to be a crazy busy year, and I have already made a list of things I will accomplish, so I am more than happy to chill in my jammies, drink tea and catch up with my peoples via phone and Skype.

Hope everyone had a wonderful Christmas, wherever you may be.
I for one can say that I am truly blessed. Sometimes the best gift of all is the gift of perspective. :)

Federman out.

Childhood Memories

2010-12-24T15:50:00.000Z

Mood: Festive!!
Theme Song: "Twelve Days of Christmas"

So a friend of mine got me started on this by posting an old Coca-Cola Christams commercial from the 70s, which led me down the winding corridors of YouTube as I relived the glory days of late 70s/early 80s commercials. I know this isn't specifically Christmas-related, but I always find myself growing nostalgic this time of year and so I think it's appropriate.

I am sure you'll enjoy them, too (especially my English friends!) - so here are some of my favorite.

Wouldn't You Like to Be a Pepper, Too? (I still know all the words to this song !)

Sometimes You Feel Like a Nut, Sometimes You Don't... (I had forgotten about this one)

Fruit Chewy! (Loves me some Fig Newtons)

Betcha Can't Do It... (Who among us did not try?)

Goes Great with Your Imagination! (featuring a young Urkel!)

NOW, She's having a ball... (LOL) (I used to LOOOOOOVE these things, just the sight of the container makes my mouth water...)

Vintage Taco Bell (does anyone else remember how all the Taco Bells used to have those curved windows? I also remember how everything used to come in foil...and styrofoam. I don't remember those jacked up employee unifoms, but I sure wish I did... especially the hair kerchief! LMAO)

Help Yourself, Although if You Ever Give Me This for My Birthday, I Am Whooping Your Ass (or if you try to hold a party with men in leisure suits + a piano)

Nooks and Crannies! (for my English friends, THIS is what I'm talking about...!)

Down on the Farm (AMERICAN sausage, y'all... boy do I miss that stuff!)

The Only System You'll Ever Need... (compare this to the Kinect... and it was only 28 years ago, people. I'll have a robot body in no time!!!)

For Lonely Kids who Couldn't Make "Real" Friends (didn't stop me wanting one, though)

Can You And I Be Friends? (Is it just me or is this whole commercial really eerie - especially the way the kids all nod, open-mouthed and glassy eyed? And doesn't T.R. look just a wee bit up to something??)

Before the X-Men, there were... Wuzzles?

No Comment... But I wanted a Pair

I Begged for these Jeans... BEGGED

And finally, a few fun compilation videos. These will bring back memories (especially the branding and packaging and taglines!) and will amuse my non-American friends, I'm sure...

Various from 1988

Christmas Themed from 1987

And for all the commercials you could ever want... Commercial Vault!

Hope you enjoy and got a good laugh, just like I did...

Trains

2010-12-22T10:14:00.002Z

I am continuously impressed by the employees of the various transport
companies within London. They ALWAYS know which platform to go to, no
matter what the destination! Be it underground, overground, DRT, tube,
bus, high-speed rail - they have it on lock.
Went through Clapham Junction
(http://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Clapham_Junction_railway_station) this
morning, which is labrynthine and half under construction. Popped off
my train, found the nearest guy in neon yellow and said with a smile,
"Kensington Olympia?" And he replied "Platform 2, Up the stairs to
your right". Doesn't seem so impressive until you realise there are 17
different platforms with about 50+ destinations to choose from. The
station opened in 1863 and has over 17M entries/exits per year.
Therefore, I now dub all rail/tube employees Transport Ninjas
(Ninjae?). My new form of entertainment will be to go to the busier
stations in the UK and just ask random questions about destinations to
see if they know them ALL. *hee hee*
Federman out.
PS- Writing this on the train and so far I have seen someone blow
their nose with a newspaper and overheard a phone call about "mummy's
gout". Ahhh...public transportation, attracting crazies regardless of
the country.

Things I Miss from the U.S.

2010-12-21T21:37:00.000Z

Mood: Pensive
Theme Song: "Crazy" by Aerosmith

Because I made a promise to myself not to badmouth England for awhile (I'm thinking the end of the year is a good time frame), I am approaching the situation in a bit of a devious, round about way. Ever hear the saying that what you don't say is sometimes more powerful than what you do say? Yeah, this is kind of like that.

It all started yesterday when I went to the post office to buy stamps and mail some letters. I waited in an huge queue (about 25 people deep who all seemed to be sending packages to the Isle of Man, Australia or random Eastern European countries that have probably had a revolution and are called something different already). I ordered my stamps (some for Europe, some for U.S., some for UK) - which strangely consisted of me having to re-weigh the same letter over and over (I didn't ask). While doing this, I noticed that everyone working in the post office was not English. Wait, I guess that's not fair to say. They could have been English, but they all looked foreign - mostly African or Indian. I know for certain the woman who helped me had a very, very, VERY heavy Indian accent because most of our conversation consisted of me saying, "Excuse me - I don't understand what you are saying. Could you please repeat that?" over...and over... and over again.

[side note: doesn't England have some kind of language proficiency test before people are allowed to work in the public sector? I noticed this problem at the airport, most specifically (and I guess humourously/ironically) at Immigration. The people telling you to stay in line, go over here, present your passport etc for entry into ENGLAND don't even speak proper English. It all becomes rather surreal after awhile...]

After I paid for my stamps, I put them on my envelopes and then slid the envelopes through the window to the postal employee. Who immediately freaked out on me and started yelling and pointing and generally having a fit. She shoved the envelopes back at me like they were coated with the plague and started yelling something about "the cage". As this a) made no sense, b) was said in a very heavy accent and c) frankly scared me a little bit, I didn't really do much of anything but stare right back at her. I recovered enough to try to ask for clarification, but I got nothing more than shaking her head, crossing her arms and repeated utterings about "the cage". I backed away slowly and began looking in the general vicinity of her pointing. Which took me to the end of the counter. Where there was no cage of any kind. There was a display of greeting cards, 2 for 3, but I don't think that's what she was foaming at the mouth about. I stood there helplessly and rather frustrated until some poor man in the queue took pit on me, and breaking all kinds of unwritten British rules of social interaction, kindly pointed out where I was to put my envelopes. Which happened to be through an unmanned window (like a bank teller window). Which looked exactly like the windows behind where all the employees sit. For some reason in England, you are unable to hand your post to the postal service worker... you have to put it through an unmanned window, and then I guess hope they get around to putting it in the postal bin. *Confusing* !! At no point, either, did I find anything resembling a "cage".

I guess it bears mentioning that this experience came right on top of the snafu that I have been having with my flat. I could go on for HOURS about this, so to keep things maneagable, I'll list the situation below:

November 30th brings epic snowfall and a 5 hour commute home for me. As my toes felt frostbitten, I decided to take a bath. While I was towelling off, I got a knock on my door from my downstairs neighbors, who kindly pointed out that I had flooded their ceiling.
I tried to call my estate agent (see other posts for my explanation of these fools), but they don't have any kind of after hours emergency number. I ended up leaving a message and chewing out some lady in the corporate office.
Many days go by with much to and fro, involving three contractors and my bathroom being torn apart (tile jackhammered away, etc)
Bath was supposedly fixed around the 2nd, but was unusable for 24 hours minimum to let a "seal set"
When I returned to my flat, I drained the water that had been left in my tub (to push the seal down), and voila! a new leak!
I called the estate agent again... and explained, which brought more contractors to and fro
I left for Spain on the 8th, with assurances that all would be repaired by the time I returned on the 13th
I got back on the 13th to find my bath fixed but with a caulking job that Helen Keller could have beaten.
I informed the estate agent on the 14th... as of Friday the 17th, no resolution - only I found out from the guy who replaced the tile that he had left things perfectly, and that someone else must have come along and taken things apart afterwards
Enter the weekend... when my boiler decided to stop working. There is no central heating in my flat (not sure if it exists in England) and I have heating through a boiler and radiators. I was freezing. I spent Sunday morning trying to get a plumber to come out but no one would come. They were all either busy or wouldn't bill the estate agent directly, and I can't afford to be paying bills for some place I don't own. I spent a very long Sunday under lots of blankets and heating my flat with my oven
Come Monday I had to chase my estate agent THREE times to get them to realise that no heat = emergency. The contractor showed up in the afternoon and pointed out that the reason I have boiler problems is that there is a faulty part...which they identified MONTHS ago (for the last tenant) but which the estate agent never acted upon. He also let me know that he was pretty sure my bathtub was never fixed... that they were thinking about it, but hadn't figured it out.
So I call the estate agent, who argued with me that my bath WAS fixed, until I put the contractor on the phone. This was Monday afternoon. As of tonight, Tuesday evening, the estate agent hasn't bothered to get back to me to let me know if anything is fixed or not. This is typical. They are truly, as the English say, a bunch of freaking muppets.

So all this is going on + the post office + I have been getting over a wicked cold... and it all culminated when I decided to make some pasta. Only to get frustrated because NOTHING tastes the way it should over here. I have yet to find a pasta sauce that doesn't taste...wrong. And I'm not a fan of sugary, American-style sauces (i.e. Ragu). I like sauces which taste like tomato and basil and good veggies. The ones over here taste burnt and weird.

Which got me thinking of a list of things I love but that I can't get over here, or which I can't get in the "right" format in England. This is by no means a comprehensive list, but it is representative...

Gummi bears - I love me some gummi bears, but I can't ever find the right kind here. They're too hard or too sweet, and not bouncy enough. The closest were ones from the duty free in Spain.
Spaghetti/Pasta sauce
Decent frozen pizza - have not found one that is even close to those back home. Marks & Spencer do a decent Margherita, but the pepperoni over here is jacked up and tastes all wrong. It's "spicy", but like hot sauce spicy, not like pepperoni spicy
Triscuits (thank goodness my sister sends to me)
Decent toothpaste (thanks again to Jessica!)
Tupperware - where do they hide it? I know they have to use it, but I can't find it anywhere!
Stuffing - even StoveTop beats what is going down on this side of the pond. They serve it in a LOG, people
Turkey - I miss American-style turkey. The way they cook it over here, or raise the turkeys or something is different
Bread crumbs - not the same, not sure why
Ramen noodles - I've written about this before...boggles my mind
Steak - namely prime rib
A real hamburger - not cooked well done, but medium rare and juicy
American soups - no particular brand name
Salads. Real salads. I'm talking romaine, celery, tomatoes, avocado, onions, green peppers, basically LOADS of fresh veggies... maybe topped with some grilled chicken and a light drizzle of balsamic vinaigrette...and avocado...
Shopping centers - you know, the ones on every corner, anchored by a Walgreen's or a Dollar Store or even the ones with a Check Cashing place...
Chicken broth (don't have it here... it's called "chicken stock" and it's NOT the same)

Those are just a few of the things I miss. Obviously a lot of them are food. Most of them center around convenience.

I'm still enjoying my adventure, but I have most definitely put brackets around this "English experience". When my visa is up, I'll be heading off somewhere new - hopefully somewhere exciting in Europe, or if not to a big, happening city and wonderful job in the U.S. of A.

Federman out.

Randoms

2010-11-29T19:49:00.000Z

Some random observations of the day...

• I hate being in a meeting where people don’t listen – one person will say something, and then the next 30 minutes are spent with the others (who were daydreaming or just too stupid to follow the conversation) basically repeating what was just said but acting like their contribution is a major revelation. And then everyone has to get into a circular conversation where they are repeating the same thing, and getting more and more excited about it… when this was all discussed during the first 10 minutes of the meeting had anyone been paying attention.

• It’s horribly xenophobic, but I hate it when people don’t speak English in a sensible manner. Take this morning. I stop into my local quickie mart for some tissues.

o Me: (looking around)
o Store owner: “I can be helping you?”
o Me: “Yes, Good morning! I’m looking for tissues…”
o Store owner: “Oh, so sorry, we are running out of those.”
o Me: “I’m sure you are, it’s freezing outside! I only need one pack – can you show me where they are?”
o Store owner: “We are running out.”
o Me: “Yes… I only need one pack, not a box. Are they over here?”
o Store owner: (VERY LOUDLY) “Miss, we are RUNNING OUT!”
o Me: “(very confused) Do you have tissues or not?”
o Store owner: “We…are… running out.” (exasperated)
o Me: “Wait… are you RUNNING OUT, or do you mean you have RUN out… as in there are no more tissues?”
o Store owner: “No tissues! We running out! NO TISSUES!”

At which point I left the store, mumbling under my breath about the importance of proper verb tenses and how I strongly suggest that he invest in some vocabulary lessons. I swear I felt like Elaine on Seinfeld with the Soup Nazi. And so then I had to sneak into the local Starbucks, act like I was about to buy something and then snatch a stack of napkins and run.
• Why does the guy who smells like spoiled relish and day-old pickle loaf always sit next to me on the shuttle bus to work? And why does he look like he should be in a boy band but smells like he is homeless?

• Did England used to be a tropical country and people just forgot to tell me? I’m not sure why it is breaking news that temperatures are approaching the equivalent of zero degrees Fahrenheit. Yes, it’s cold, but I remember walking to the bus in the late 80s and early 90s in negative degrees (F) weather. And it wasn’t front page news. Hey England, winter is cold. I strongly suggest you invest in some warm weather gear and lay off the Daisy Duke jean shorts and stilettos. How about taking some of those sheep who like to rock out in the middle of the road all the damn time and making some sweaters? Just a thought.

• I think I might be joining a new family – it’s called Aunt Bessie’s family. Because Aunt Bessie can throw down on some grub. Check out my homegirl here: http://www.auntbessies.co.uk/

• I seriously had an argument with someone last week about dental care in England. He is English, and was telling me that his dentist told him that flossing was “unnecessary” and a form of “voodoo dentistry”. He then proceeded to try to argue that NHS dentistry is just as good as, or better, than American dentistry! Half this country’s teeth look like a 20 year old picket fence after a tornado and the other half look like they’ve never been cleaned… ever. EVER. This is what I don’t get. How do you NOT notice when you look in the mirror and see four inches of plaque along the gum line? Not everyone is going to have perfect straight teeth, and no one’s teeth are naturally blinding white. I’m not talking about that. What I am talking about is getting your regular floss and brush on. For the love of baby Jesus, visit a dentist – at least once a year. I think this should be government funded because if people freshened up their grills over here, I would definitely see that as a public service. I’m not embarrassed to admit that I refuse to let any dentist on this side of the Atlantic touch my choppers – I wait until I go home. I’m also lucky enough that my sister is the freakin’ Tooth Master, and so she hooks me up.

• I have figured out why the UK gave me a visa that only lasts 3 years - because I think they know that after 36 months of all England all the time, I’m pretty sure I won’t be able to take any more… unless I’m living in a fully renovated castle and married to someone whose name begins with Lord/Count/Viscount/Earl/Your Royal Majesty and whose bank account features many, many zeros.

• That being said… my adoration of all things royal is fading. As I learn more about myself and what I want and need in life, I have discovered that I would go INSANE if I had to be confined by the rules and expectations around the royal court. The fact that I wouldn’t be able to act the fool whenever and wherever I wanted really diminishes the appeal of wearing a crown on my head.

• I had the best time this weekend with my friend Marianne and her daughter. Zoe is ten months old and hilarious. We had crazy hip hop playing on their computer through YouTube, and I was dancing around their living room in blue socks, purple leggings, a denim skirt and a black hoodie (with the hood up) with the baby. Marianne was right there cheering me on. This is why I love my friends – they let me hold their baby while rapping “Poppin bottles in the ice, like a blizzard. When we drink we do it right gettin slizzerd”. The best part is that little Zoe was smiling and clapping and totally getting her baby swerve on. Further proof for those who are fully convinced that I am “not right”.

Hate It or Love It...

2010-11-26T22:07:00.000Z

Mood: Bouncy
Theme Song: "Sunshine" - Twista

First, I need to continue with my promise to list things I like about England. I can't remember what number I was up to (and frankly I'm a bit too lazy right now to go back and look it up), so I'll just bullet point...

Yorkshire pudding. I am not sure why this dish is called pudding, because it has nothing to do with dessert at all (or Jell-O, for my American friends). It is more like a bread or a biscuit or something. I know it's made with batter and the drippings from a roast... and that it is mighty tasty. To me, Yorkshire pudding looks like little cups that perfectly hold all the yummy gravy that goes with the roast.
Christmastime. The English get down on some Christmas. No Happy Holidays nonsense. I'm talking trees, ornaments, Santa and baby Jesus in full effect. And it's awesome. I love Christmas but I've hated how commercial and PC it has gotten in the States. Quite frankly, I don't give a shit about offending anyone. I'm all about my tree, and my fat Santa and my presents. I have much love and respect for Hannukah and Kwanzaa and any other holiday that also happens to fall in December. But I'm a Christmas girl, and so it gives me great happiness to be able to surround myself in all things Christmas-y.
Schoolchildren's Outfits. No, I am not a pervert. What I mean is I love how Harry Potter-ish they all look. All the kids on the train have those kinds of outfits and I keep thinking "They're all on their way to Hogwart's!"
The English Sense of Humour. It's hard to explain to people who aren't familiar with it, but it is very dry and very, very funny. It's not like Mr. Bean or anything that Americans would initially think of. If you are really curious, Google or Youtube the following shows - "QI", "Eight of Ten Cats" and the like. You will get a really good feel for British humour. Seeing as how I have a very acerbic sense of what is funny, I seem to take quite naturally to it.

Ok, that's enough props on England for one evening. What I really wanted to write about was the realisation I had tonight. I was cooking (macaroni and cheese for a Thanksgiving celebration at Marianne Slade's house tomorrow), and I put the music channel on my TV on. To my neverending joy, something called "Phat 50! Banging Hip Hop Jamz" was on. And so while I was making my cheese sauce and bouncing around to 50 Cent and Lloyd Banks and P Diddy and the like, I was suddenly struck by the fact that no matter how much I travel, or how far I live from home, I will always be American. Deep down in my soul there is something that I cannot escape that bleeds red, white and blue. There is something that enables me to know which rapper I'm listening to just from the sound of their voice, and also to know if they are Westside, Eastside, Dirty South, St. Louis, whatever.

As I type this, it is sounding really silly. Of course I'm American, everyone and their half brother knows this. But what I think I'm saying is that there's no danger of me becoming like Madonna and turning half (or three-quarters?) British. Absolutely no danger at all. I may adopt some of the vocabulary, and the fashion and yes, I admit that I am well and truly addicted to tea now - but at the heart of everything, I AM AMERICAN.

I am a crazy, world-traveling American who loves sushi and tea and hip hop. In fact, right this moment I'm couch-dancing along to Kid Cudi's "Day and Night".

And you know what? That makes me happy.

Federman out.

Thanksgiving

2010-11-25T20:09:00.001Z

Mood: Pensive
Theme Song: "Alice's Restaurant", Arlo Guthrie

This blog post is going to be a little bit different. I normally don't post about personal things, choosing instead to focus on the hilarity that is my everyday existence here in England. But today is Thanksgiving, and I think it's worth the blogspace to reflect upon all that I am thankful for.

O Me! O Life! - Walt Whitman

O ME! O life!... of the questions of these recurring;

Of the endless trains of the faithless—of cities fill’d with the foolish;
Of myself forever reproaching myself, (for who more foolish than I, and who more
faithless?)
Of eyes that vainly crave the light—of the objects mean—of the struggle ever
renew’d;
Of the poor results of all—of the plodding and sordid crowds I see around me;
Of the empty and useless years of the rest—with the rest me intertwined;
The question, O me! so sad, recurring—What good amid these, O me, O life?

Answer.
That you are here—that life exists, and identity;
That the powerful play goes on, and you will contribute a verse.

As I walked home from the train station today, I nearly slipped on the cold concrete. I was immediately struck, as I often am, by the duality of our nature as human beings. We are simultaneously so strong and yet so terribly fragile. The same holds true for our thoughts and emotions - what we think and believe can make us either strong and powerful or weak and ineffectual. Those of you who read my blog regularly know that I am on a mission to see the world around in me in a more positive light and I truly believe that in doing so, I make myself a stronger and more capable person.

I am thankful for those who love me and for those whom I love. I have some amazing people in my life - and every so often I pinch myself thinking how lucky I am. Take my best friend in the whole world, Angela. We've known each other for 17 years and she has seen me through so many iterations of myself - and she's loved me and supported me no mater what. Even when I was rocking white eyeshadow and velvet blazers and thought that 11pm was way too late to be out for a party.

Then there's my amazing siblings. I'll be honest - we did not exactly get along in our youth. I used to refer to them as "the Spawn"... as in "the Spawn of Satan". I'm pretty sure the names they had for me are unprintable. But somehow, we have been able to get past all of that and move into a place where we are not only family but friends. I look to both of them so much in my life for advice and for a touchstone to keep me feeling normal and balanced.

I could spend hours listing out all of the other amazing people in my life - but the best part of the people I know is that they already know how I feel and they know how important they are to me. I never fail to be amazed by how the people in my life apparently possess some kind of Spidey Sense that goes off whenever I need them most.

I am thankful for every day that I awake and open my eyes. I am thankful for the breath in my lungs and the blood in my veins. I am thankful for my intellect and my intuition. I am thankful for the ability to feel emotion and for the ability to share emotions with others. I am thankful for my health - as I get older I realise how truly lucky I am.

More importantly, as 2010 draws to a close and finds me a year older, I find I am truly thankful for the fact that I am myself. I suppose some people are born with an immediate sense of themselves and how they fit into the world. I have never been one of those people. For as long as I can remember, I have always felt different - strange - other. A bit like someone standing outside a window looking in on the rest of the world. I spent so many years trying to understand why I was different and then trying to erase those differences so that I could "fit in". I spent so many years apologising for who I am, and who I am not.

But a really happy side effect of the life choices I've made (moving to Seattle, moving to England) has been that I've been able to truly develop a relationship with myself. In a way, I've fallen in love - with myself. I know who I am, and I know who I am not and I am truly and completely okay with this. This is not to say that I don't want to change or improve, or that I don't have those moments of wishing I were better/faster/stronger/more/less etc - but on the whole, I wake up everyday and go to sleep every evening pretty damn happy to be me.

And so I am well and truly thankful for the journey that has gotten me here, and for everyone in my life who has played a part in the process. If it weren't for the people who beat me down, I wouldn't have learned how to get back up again, or that I possessed the strength inside me to do so. To every person who told me "No", I thank you for you are the ones who taught me that there is always a way to "Yes". And without the forces in my life who made me feel small, alone, inadequate, insufficient, insubstantial - what I learned from you is that the only way I can feel that way is if I allow someone else to dictate my life. I learned that the key to my own happiness lies only with myself, and that I should never feel as if things are beyond my control because they never truly are. Things may happen that I can't control - but I can control how I react (or don't react) to them.

I hope that everyone reading this has a wonderful Thanksgiving Day... or if you're not American, an amazing Thursday ;)

Answer.

That you are here—that life exists, and identity;
That the powerful play goes on, and you will contribute a verse.

Federman out.

Sweden

2010-11-24T22:43:00.001Z

Mood: Tired but Happy
Theme Song: I don't have one right now... strange

Stockholm Airport - just loved that there was someone named "Wayne" shilling coffee in Sweden

I had my first trip to the Nordic region this week. I went to Stockholm for a quick one day meeting, and so I didn't get to see very much of the city (at all), but I do have some observations in general. The first being that it was COLD, and that there was already snow on the ground. The second being that the coffee could give Turkish coffee a run for its money - that stuff could power a diesel truck, it was so strong. Yummy, but whoo-wee!

The cuisine is very healthy and much more delicious than I expected. I thought I might be stuck eating pickled herring and other weird stuff. Instead, I had an amazing dinner (spinach, walnut, Gruyere and pomegranate salad followed by delicious cod on a potato pancake type thing topped with morels and sweetbread) and then an amazing breakfast and lunch. The breakfast buffet at the hotel was like a dream come true - all the standard stuff like eggs and bacon and the standard grilled tomato (which is weird to me), but it also had lots of dried fruit, fresh yogurt and fresh fruit. There were cold cuts and smoked salmon and fresh nutty bread. It was fantastic! Lunch was grilled whitefish served over potatoes and topped with a rich tomato sauce - doesn't sound like it would work, but it did.
The language is not as difficult to piece together as I originally thought. Swedish is a Germanic language, and so if you listen closely you will hear the similarities - but it is much more lyrical. I also love that there are three extra letters - the are all versions of our letter "a" - there's the a with the umlaut (two dots), the a with the circle over it, and an a with an accent mark (I think) - and they are pronounced like ooh, arrr and oaaarh. Ok, that's probably really wrong... but for the record I really like the circle on top a letter. It's my new favorite letter.

View between Terminal 4 and 5, Stockholm Airport

If the airport is any indication, then I am very much going to like Swedish architecture and design. Lots of open spaces, clean lines and wood. Parts of it looked more like a museum than an airport.
We did get to go out to dinner Monday night, and so I saw a very little bit of central Stockholm. It was very clean and very European. And by "European" I mean the architecture, the way the streets were laid out, the mix of old and new everywhere. Now that I think of it, it's very interesting. I can be in any city in America and I would be able to tell you instantly that it was the U.S.A. (and not because things are in English - even if there were just buildings and no signs I could tell). The same holds true for Europe. It just "feels" European. I'm going to have to ponder this and see if I can come up with a better description.
One cool thing about Sweden is that they drive on the right side of the road! But it wasn't until I was in the taxi on the way back from the restaurant that it registered to me that I was sitting in what is normally the driver's seat in the UK. And then I started noticing that the highway was a decent size, and well-lit and the signs were above the road like back home... not off to the side or printed on the road itself. I must admit that I got a warm fuzzy happy feeling inside... things suddenly felt RIGHT again. Also cool in Sweden is that they roll with regular style credit cards - no PIN and CHIP nonsense. It felt like home to just swipe your card and go.

This is what Swedish looks like... I have no idea what this says... but imagine what it SOUNDS like ;)

I flew SAS for the first time (Scandinavian Airlines) and nothing beats hearing all the safety information in Swedish. It sounded so weird because it's not a language you hear everyday. Like when I go to Germany or another European country, even when they make the announcement in their native tongue, I've heard enough German/Italian/Spanish that it doesn't strike me as odd. Even being on Singapore Airlines didn't sound very weird because they did everything mostly in English, with a bit of Chinese thrown in for good measure. And when I flew to Japan, they did dual announcements in Japanese and English - but again, I've heard enough Japanese that my brain went "oh, yeah, ok...Japanese". But when the flight attendant started speaking in Swedish, my brain was really confused. I kept trying to hear English words in what she was saying... I kept thinking "it sounds like a language..." but it made absolutely no sense. What is cool, though, is that Swedish and Norwegian and to a certain extent Danish are all very similar. So if you know one, you can sort of speak the others. Definitely between Sweden and Norway... very close.

I am very excited to go back again... I'll be visiting this region frequently for my new job, and I look forward to seeing more of Sweden, and seeing Norway and Finland and Denmark. I've already figured out that I'm going to schedule most of my meetings for Thursdays and Fridays so I can make a weekend of the jaunt and explore. I have a list of countries I want to see in my lifetime, and I'm slowly checking them off.

On a side note, and it was total coincidence, but I got through "Let the Right One In" (aka Låt den rätte komma in) by John Ajvide Lindqvist on my trip. Some of you may have seen the movie. The book was really, really good - and it was weird to be reading about Stockholm while actually being there. I enjoyed the connection so much that I think I'm going to try to make sure I bring books written by authors from the country that I'm visiting. Next trip is Spain... and I've already read Carlos Ruis Zafon, so I'm open to suggestions.

Federman out.

P.S. - did a quick day trip to Ireland last Friday. Saw Dublin airport, our local office, and the airport again. I can confirm that despite the financial troubles, Ireland is still standing, and the people still sound like leprechauns. ;)

Hmmpf

2010-11-17T23:57:00.000Z

Mood: Tired
Theme Song: "Paper Bag" - Fiona Apple

#16. England hasn't been hit by a meteor yet. Self-explanatory, methinks.

In other news, I'm in a hotel room tonight for work and the really frightening part is that I opened the door and suddenly had the feeling of, "Ah, I'm home". Recently watched "Up in the Air"... a bit too close for comfort?

Federman out.

The Love Affair Continues...

2010-11-16T20:47:00.001Z

Mood: Absolutely exhausted
Theme Song: "Brand New Key" - Melanie

Continuing my list of things I love about England... (writing this today is the equivalent of going to the gym to exercise when you are drop dead tired and have a cold. I had more negative English influence today than positive, but I'm going to stick to my plan...)

11. Ham, Egg and Chips. I have no idea why I like this food so much, but I absolutely looooooves it. It is apparently traditional pub food over here, and I don't know why no one in America has thought of this combination before. The ham is chilled, the eggs freshly fried and the chips hot and crisp. Yum, yum, yummers. It's perfect with a pint ;)

12. Royalty. The big news today is that Prince William and Kate Middleton are engaged to marry. I don't really care too much about Prince William's love life - but I think it's AWESOME to look at the paper and see a headline entitled "Prince to Marry"... especially when it has nothing to do with a short musician who likes purple and arbitrary name changes.

13. Men Wearing Suits. I'm sure there is a lot of suit-wearing in big cities like New York and LA - but in middle America it's rare to see someone who's not a big executive, or headed to an interview/big meeting, wearing a suit. But over here - most men still dress for work. I have to say I like the look of all of them in their skinny suit pants, ties and long overcoats. Even cooler? They still rock cufflinks. All that's missing is the hat like they used to wear in the 1950's and 1960's. I so wish that would come back.

14. John Lewis. The department store. While I still think that Nordstrom is better, John Lewis has that extra special cache of employees with British accents. I love going to a store and being asked, "Is there anything I can help you with, madam?" in that accent. I feel so proper and like I immediately want to shop for expensive scarves, houndstooth and tweed.

15. Boots brand. I know you can get some of this in Target in the U.S. now, but I absolutely love Boots brand makeup and beauty products. Great face wash, moisturizer, makeup accessories, lipstick, eyeshadow and mascara. While I do miss Walgreen's and true drug stores, I do enjoy going to Boots because they have both high price and value products. You can get generic face wash right next to Clinique or Dior brand. I like that I can find LaRoche-Posay products - perfect for when my skin is acting up, and Boots No.7 brand makeup brushes are as good as ones I've bought from the fancy makeup brands (i.e. Chanel, Laura Mercier, etc).

They say it takes 21 days to truly form a habit. So I'm T minus 19. Maybe at the end of this experiment I'll stop missing America so much... seeing as how I'll be here for a few more years at least, I sure hope so!

Federman out.

I...er, LOVE England

2010-11-15T21:01:00.006Z

Mood: Chilly and freakin' fabulous
Theme Song: "Cincinnati" by Mood - check it out here and "LDN" by Lily Allen

I think it's because the weather is changing and the holidays are approaching, but I realised today on my walk home from the train that I am horribly homesick. Moreso than any time since I've moved. I've lived away from "home" (my home city) for four years now, nearly one of them overseas - and yet this is the first time that I really ACHE for home.
So I made a decision. For the next month or so, I'm going to stop making fun of England. I repeat... I am NOT going to post anything that makes fun of this country, its people, or the widespread lack of dental care. Now some of you may be thinking "So what? Why is this news?"... but for those of you who know me, really really know me, you know this is the equivalent of Lindsay Lohan giving up controlled substances and/or self-destructive relationships. Or Charlie Sheen giving up hookers. Or Lil' Wayne giving up the sizzurp.

Because part of what keeps me going, what keeps me strong, is being able to cap all over this great country like a 6th grade bully with ADHD. I turn my frustrations into humour, and it helps me get through the long days and nights when all I want to do is run screaming back across the ocean.

BUT... as someone recently pointed out to me, I have a pretty awesome life, and things could always be much, much worse. I'm not really helping the situation by giving into my negative feelings, or by feeding the "I hate England" monster that is growing inside me. So, starting today, I'm only going to talk about things I like about my adopted country. And I'm going to number them and keep a running tally so that the next time I get a case of the grumpies, I can look back and remind myself that I found 3 1/2 things I liked about England (ha! just kidding)...

Seriously, though, I'll kick it off with 10 to start. Have to ease into this - baby steps as Dr. Marvin would say.

1. The amazing people I've met since moving over here. I could name check, but I'm not going to because not everyone is as big of an attention whore as Marianne Slade (couldn't help myself!! XD). But these people (you know who you are) have helped me stay sane, stay focused and stay happy on this crazy journey. Each of you have helped preserve or renew a part of me, and one or two of you have inadvertently taught me more about myself in a few months than I had learned in a whole lifetime. So to all my peeps who call the +44 home, a great big THANK YOU. Mad love.

2. The accents. Despite the fact that I can't understand about 44% of the people over here, I love hearing my native tongue bounced back to me after it's been given a good old English dressing up or dressing down. Like today for example. Since I can't say anything negative, I'll just say that how entertaining it was to speak for 20 minutes to a woman from American Express who sounded like Sean Connery in a wind tunnel with a mouthful of Novocaine after drinking 40 bottles of scotch.

3. London. The first time I came to visit, London didn't really do much for me. My reaction was pretty much "eh". I liked the black cabs and how everything was backwards and the red phone booths, but I found the whole place confusing and slightly ridiculous. But now... now I love it. It's an amazing city - even more so because it redefines the term "city". Much like New York, there are whole neighborhoods dropped into the "city" part. I also love how everything is closer than you think. You can be in Soho one minute, then Trafalgar Square, then Covent Garden... I'm so happy to be living closer so I can take advantage of this wonderful, wonderful playground.

4. Public transportation. Yes, yes, I know I just spent a blog entry blasting on the train system and the people on it. I still think the whole thing could use a good De-funkification. However, that being said, I LOVE LOVE LOVE how easy it is to get around (when the trains are running and when they are on time, that is). I can bounce all over the city with a few train hops. And yes it does seem a bit expensive - until I think about the cost of owning a car, and petrol, not to mention the hassle of parking and traffic.

5. The commercials aka "adverts". While many of them are really, really weird, some of them are really creative and visually stunning. And funny. I'm trying to think of examples but my mind is a blank. But I promise to post them as I remember. Just know that there are some good ones over here.

6. The bread. This is kind of a cop-out as I've already waxed poetic about England's baked goods. I've said it before and I'll say it again - this country knows how to get down on some bread. *nomnomnomnom*

7. Literacy. Ok this is going to sound funny, but the complete and utter nerd in me finds it wonderful that I get both a morning paper and an evening paper... and that both are FREE! I pick them up at the station and they're perfect for the ride to/from work. And... here's the kicker... they are surprisingly well written. As this is England after all, there is still the "Dear Sir" and the "Mr. So-and-so". Granted, many of the stories involve people I don't know and music groups I don't understand, but these daily reads provide a fascinating window into English life. One of the articles today was about "Postcode Wars". As explained before, England doesn't have "zip codes" - they have Postcodes. And apparently, there are these gang wars going on between people from different post codes. The article even went on to reference something called a "hood pass". I even found the article - you can read it here. But you have to do what I do and imagine it with a British accent. :P

8. The Fashion (sort of). I have commented before on some of the fashion disasters that are taking place over here. But there are parts to London fashion that I am SO all about. For example - leggings. Yes, I know I wore them the first time around in the '80s, but I tell you nothing is better for a Sunday afternoon than leggings and a slouchy sweater. Another thing I love is boots. I have always loved boots, but they are big here. And you can wear them with anything! And they are so comfortable when traipsing here there and everywhere on public transportation. :) I also have to say that I do love some of the super high heeled shoes. Not all of them - I'll never be a 5 inch lace heel convert (unless I take up a new career as a superho), but I do love the sexy high platform pumps. I've learned to walk in heels and I find them to be a great addition to my wardrobe. The other thing I like is that girls dress like girls. I can't explain it any more except to say I hardly ever wear jeans or tennis shoes or sweatshirts anymore. I used to LIVE in that attire!

9. The slang. There are some situations in life when only a "blimey" or a "bloody hell" will do. And I still haven't found a suitable American term for "posh". And, I still giggle like an idiot every time someone tells me what "fanny" means over here...

10. Tea. Yes, I know the rest of the world has tea, but it tastes different over here. I was never a committed coffee drinker, and I used to save my tea drinking for really cold days or when I was sick. But now... now I love a good cuppa any time of day. It's the perfect pick me up. In fact, I had one after dinner tonight. What's funny is that when I moved over, I immediately bought the posh-est tea I could find. Big mistake. The best stuff by far is good old PG Tips. And the mascot is even a really cute monkey! (I think if I buy some this month I can send away for a knitted monkey or something... woo hoo!)

So there you have it. The beginnings of my "Things I love in England" list. This is going to be a real challenge for me... and I relish it. I'm sure you'll enjoy the journey, too - espeically those days when I'm struggling and I have to write something stupid like "I love England because...er... it begins with the letter "E" just like my name!"

And now I'm off to brew a cuppa and enjoy the rest of this lovely, crisply cold English night.

Federman out. ;)

Weird UK Adverts

2010-11-13T18:09:00.000Z

Just a quick note...
There are always these weird commercials (aka "adverts") on the telly. I don't understand them AT ALL.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X-bOjU4w9q4

Take a look... let me know your thoughts.

Federman out.

Kaleidoscope

2010-11-13T13:41:00.003Z

Mood: Compuzzled
Theme Song: "Bingo" - Gucci Mane

Little monsters covered in Union Jack Underoos must be coming into my house at night and nibbling away at my cerebral cortex. That is the only explanation for the fact that I looked in my spice cabinet yesterday and thought to myself, "I need to pick up some or-EH-gan-oh". Not "OR-ray-gan-oh". Somehow my brain has decided that Oregano should be pronounced the English way, as if it were some cool new shape or Pokemon character. What's also disturbing is how easy other English words have seeped into my everyday vocabulary - "lorry", "chav", "blimey", "posh", "brolly", "till", "brilliant", "biscuit", "chips", "queue".

In other news, I finally have a sofa in my flat. This doesn't really seem like breaking news, but when you've been living out of your bedroom for the past two weeks, it is quite possibly one of the most exciting occurrences possible. It is fantastic to have something to sit on, and it makes me feel a bit like my apartment is finally coming together. It's a small place, but it is sunny and bright and mine all mine :) I still have a bunch of furniture left to buy, but there's light at the end of that tunnel and by Christmas time I should be fully set up.

I'm still immensely frustrated by how hard it is to find simple things over here. I really, really miss Wal-Mart, Target, hell even K-Mart. Americans don't realise how easy we have it to be able to go to one store and get 95% of what we're looking for.

I'll give you an example. I need the following things: light bulbs - regular and halogen, door hooks, picture hooks, a cheap bookshelf, those cool 3M hanger things that have the adhesive strip on the back so you don't make a mark on the wall, Scotchguard and a lint brush. Now, in America I would just hop in my car and go to the nearest Wal-Mart, Target or Fred Meyer and voila! Shopping's finished. Here?

Lightbulbs - Sainbury's
Door hooks - still not sure on this one
Picture hooks - still not sure either
Cheap bookshelf - couple of options here (IKEA, Argos, Tesco Direct)
3M Hanger Things - no idea if they even have them over here
Scotchguard - order from amazon.co.uk
Lint Brush - maybe Sainsbury's, maybe Argos

See what I mean? I know things are compounded now because I no longer have a car, but even when I had wheels, I still found myself driving here there and everywhere just to get the simplest things.

Speaking of Argos, the shop is hilarious. Check it out at www.argos.co.uk. There isn't really even a store - just a bunch of a catalogues and tills and conveyer belts. It's all summed up brilliantly here - (watch the bit up to about 1:08) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=plAkZlRpqCg

I was thinking to myself the other day when the novelty of taking the train every day will wear off. I think it will probably be right around when I'm stuck on a platform in a snowstorm and the announcer comes on and says in a very posh BBC voice, "We are sorry to announce that 18:54 service to Waterloo, calling at (list of stations) is cancelled due to --"... The reason trains are cancelled here is a bit like a game of Mad Libs. I swear there are people sitting up in Central Train Control and just reaching into a hat for something to say. So far I've noticed its been:

Signal failure (this is the most popular. I'm not sure how or why these signals keep failing, or why they don't replace them)
Vandalism (I've actually had a train delayed due to this. I'm not sure how a train could be delayed by someone spray painting or whatnot)
Mechanical failure
Accidents (these range from someone stepped in front of a train to a lorry fell off a bridge and on top of a train - that one actually happened the other day)

Of course, I've yet to have a train cancelled due to sun delay, which used to happen all the time in Cincinnati. Yes, that's right. The sun...is out... and therefore, traffic is delayed. Despite the fact that the sun comes out every single day, its appearance somehow caused automobile drivers problems. ¬¬

Taking the train is quite the adventure, and it seems all normal rules of human behaviour go right out the window the minute you swipe your Oyster card or insert your ticket at the turnstile. Before I moved, my previous train experiences were limited to taking the train to central London for work or to SE London to visit someone for the weekend. They were fairly long journeys - an hour or two - and there were never very many people on the train. It all seemed very orderly and British and I found the ticket taker man quaint and was always super happy to show him that yes, yessir, I have a valid ticket, I paid the fare, look at me, good on me, can I have a biscuit now. The one weird experience I had was having what was obviously a mentally challenged man sit diagonally across from me on the ride to Blackheath, and for 40 minutes make fellatio gestures at me while periodically offering a 3-toothed smile. (That in itself was really special, considering I was on my way to a first date)

So when I queued up to get on the train for the first time to go to work, it was safe to say that I was a bit unreasonably excited. I felt alive, part of something bigger than myself. I was a TRAIN COMMUTER! I even had the beginning refrains of Manic Monday stuck in my head as I walked up to the turnstile and swiped my rail card. I went up the ramp and stood happily with all the other commuters near the tracks. I gave them all happy little nods, as if to say "Oh yes, I take the train to work everyday, too." The train pulled up to the station, right on time. The doors opened, and I minded the gap and hopped on. Everything was going smashingly until we got to Wimbledon station. For my American friends, it may be helpful for you to check out the following links to better understand what I'm talking about -

http://www.nationalrail.co.uk/passenger_services/maps/ (maps for the train)
http://www.tfl.gov.uk/gettingaround/1106.aspx (maps for the tube, bus and other methods of transport)

Anyway, Wimbledon is one of the central hubs for commuters going to London and to the Southwest, so it's nearly always packed. The train pulled up and it was like swimming upstream. It's hard to mind the gap

(which is not insignificant, by the way. In fact "the gap" is closer to a "person-size chasm" and beckons to my clumsiness every day as if to say "oh yes, I know YOU.... you're the one who falls down in your own bathtub, and who knocks over water no matter where you put it, and who runs into walls, and doors, and people... oh yes, I know you. See me? See this lovely dark gap? I'm just waiting for you... for a rainy day, a snowy day, for you to make a bad choice in footwear, for you to be pushed from behind by some corpulent businessman's belly... I'm waiting for you and then I will nomnomnom eat you up and cover you with oily, metally squeaky British train goodness and kill you dead. And then YOU will be the cause of a train delay...")

... it is hard to mind the gap when you are being pushed from behind and you are staring into the rabid faces of people who appear to be just dying to get on the train. So I finally made it off the train in one piece only to be swept into a veritable stream of people as I moved up the stairs to change platforms. The stairs are supposed to serve those going up and those going down - but point that out to anyone at your own risk. I spend my mornings getting all kinds of exercise by going up, up, up against harried English people going down, down, down. It's a bit like that time in Krav Maga class when our exercise for the day was to lie on the floor and have everyone pile on top of you and then "fight" your way out.

I got to the top of the Platform. One of the good things about public transportation in London is that you can just give a googly-eyed look to anyone who works for the train office and say your destination (Me: "Sutton?" Them: "Platform 9"). I've tried this with all kinds of destinations and so far it hasn't failed me. I'm sure there will be one time when I get misdirected to Staines (American friends, click here: http://onthebutton.wordpress.com/2010/11/08/renaming-ali-g-hometown/), but for now this is working well.

Once I got down to the platform for my train to Sutton, the morning quickly went back to normal speed, as I am now commuting against the traffic stream. By the time I got on the train, it was nearly empty and only filled with chattering schoolchildren (complete with Harry Potter outfits and everything).

The real fun came in the evening. A bit of background: most trains in England that I've taken have a digital display listing the stations where it "calls" (aka "stops") as well as a public address system that says things like "This is the 18:54 service to Luton, calling at...." and "The next station is Wimbledon Chase. Mind the gap." To an American like me, this is amazing because it helps me to always know where I am and where I'm going. So I got on the train from Sutton on my first day... and settled back for the 27m ride. About 10min into the trip, I suddenly realised that I hadn't heard any English voice announcing any of the stops... and that the train had no digital display, and that it was pitch black outside, and that I had NO FREAKING IDEA WHERE I WAS. Luckily each station has a big sign with its name on it, so as the train pulled up, I could squint through the window and see where I was. This was when I learned to count stations, and to pay attention on the train ;)

But I'm getting used to it. I have already passed two major milestones, which my English friends assure me are part and parcel for taking public transportation. I've seen my first adult pee puddle (why people pee on the train, I have no idea) and I was unceremoniously groped while riding a packed train to Clapham Junction. (Trains were delayed that night for - pick a reason - and so they were uncharacteristically full. We were wedged in like sardines, and the person (sure hope it was a guy, I couldn't even move to see) behind me took the opportunity to put their hands all over my rear business.)

Earlier I said that people lose all sense of how to behave properly when on the train, and I mean it. We've got people peeing on the floor (how exactly does that work anyway? do you just pee, and then get up and leave?); we've got people trying to get to 3rd base with you without your permission. And then there are the conversations I overhear. I don't know what it is about public transportation that makes people think it's okay to talk about anything at all... but it might be the same force that causes people to think that if they pick their nose in their car no one will see.

Since riding the train I have overheard conversations (both live and on the phone) about:

STDs (a girl was talking in great detail about her "itch")
Infidelity (man on phone: "well, I guess if you have to sleep with my brother, that's fine, but for god's sake darling please don't take him to our country house"... NOT kidding on that one)
Theft (a whole conversation between two people about how they were going to go to one of their friend's house and basically rip them off)
Bodily functions (I've heard treatises on diarrhea, flatulence, excessive mucus production, diaper rash, breast hairs (that was a funny day), etc etc)

My advice to anyone taking the train - be careful what you say, because there are people like me around. People who are not zoned out into a newspaper or listening to an iPod and who are counting stops to make sure they don't end up in Serbia by accident. These kind of people like me, we listen. We listen closely... and we remember.

That's all for today, folks.
Federman out.

Finding A Flat...

2010-11-07T17:54:00.001Z

Mood: Happy
Theme Song: "Teach Me How 2 Dougie feat. Marianne Slade*" - Cali Swag District.

I am officially moved into my flat in London.

Please allow me to take a few moments to catch my breath, because there is MUCH to tell. I guess I should start by saying that I am no stranger to moving. We moved at least four times when I was growing up that I can remember, and then I think I've lived in fifteen or so different places since I was 17. So it's safe to say that I have a pretty firm grasp on the mechanics behind moving from one apartment to another.

Except that I don't. Not over here.

Some background that may help: any time you want to rent a flat over here, you need to go through an Estate Agent. An exception is the rare place posted on Craigslist or Spareroom.co.uk - but I've found that those places are either pretty dodgy or a flat-share/roommate situation. You know how in the U.S., you just go to the apartment complex... or drive by, note the number in the window, and call up? Not so here. You need to pick a neighborhood and then contact the nine hundred million estate agents which serve that neighborhood. They're called "estate" agents, but they don't deal in Hounds of the Baskervilles type mansions (well some do, but most don't). And they don't deal with rich dead people's stuff, either, as I originally thought. What they do is control most of the available rental market and make your life a living hell. They serve as a go-between between property owners and tenants - when it works, it's brilliant. When it doesn't, it is a recipe for homicidal thoughts - much like the ones that Marianne Slade has when her husband goes out for guy's night.

So basically you call these places up and find out what they have available, or you take a day or two and go to all their offices and register. What adds to the fun is that they always have tons of beautiful, amazing looking properties listed on their websites - but when you call, they tell you Oh sorry, that one just went "under offer" (more on this in a minute). When you point out that they should update their website to reflect this, you're told that of course they will, but that is a different department, the Internet department, and it takes some time for them to update the site. (Now, any of you who work in I.T. will back me up here when I say that it's not rocket science to update and refresh a webpage. It's not 1997, back when Marianne Slade was the Spice Girl's #1 fan.) When you point out that what they are essentially doing is using false advertising in a bait-and-switch scheme, they get very, very angry and even more unhelpful.

Yes, you heard right. Despite the fact that they work on commission and need to rent properties to survive, I have found that nearly 93% of these people are condescending, unhelpful idiots. A sample conversation would involve me explaining what I was looking for, including budget, time frame, size of flat, and "must-haves" (i.e. bathtub - not standard over here; storage space - closets aren't standard; etc)... and then waiting while the person on the other end tried to talk me into going to view properties that were out of my price range, in the wrong location and didn't have anything I was looking for. We would do this dance for a good 10 minutes before the holy light of understanding shone down upon them and they finally started talking about preperties that were relevant to me. Then came the inevitable "I have a brilliant property to show you, can you get here by 2?"... despite the fact that I explained, SEVERAL TIMES during the conversation that I was calling to schedule appointments for the weekend as I lived in Canterbury near Marianne Slade, not London. And that driving back and forth during the day was not an option due to this little thing I had going on called a "job".

So on to my adventures. I think it is worth explaining that when I moved over in January, I was living in a hotel and so had a finite amount of time to find a place. I basically took a day off work and took a taxi to Canterbury. I had scheduled a few viewings with different estate agents (which was a feat in itself; I had bene trying to schedule viewings since December, but no one would call me back because I wasn't in the UK yet. I kept trying to explain that I wanted to have appointments scheduled so that the first weekend I was in town, I could find a place. This logical reasoning just proved too much for them.). I looked at five places, and chose the best option. The estate agent I dealt with was really professional - had me fill out a bunch of paperwork, called the property owner and got their approval to rent to me, and voila - I had a flat. I encountered sticker shock and all that because I had to pay the estate agent fee (about £250) in addition to deposit and first month's rent - but other than that, the process was relatively simple. The only kink was that I needed a bank account and the bank wanted me to have an apartment to get a bank account - so we had to do a bit of finagling there. Since it was Canterbury where Marianne Slade lives, and the bank manager knew the manager of the estate agency, they were able to help me out. I think if I were in London, I would probably still be trying to get a bank account...

So this time around, when I was looking to move to London, I didn't anticipate a huge fiasco. I thought that once I picked a neighborhood it would be fairly simple. Stupid, stupid me... forgetting that I was in England. I'll skip over how I ended up picking my neighborhood (a combination of advice + I looked at a flatshare and really liked it + it is a good location in between work and central London). The fun began once I started talking to estate agents, trying to schedule appointments.

Here comes the biggest difference between the U.S. and England, I think. Letting a flat over here is like buying a condo or house in the U.S. What I mean is that when you find a place you like, you submit an offer in writing and wait to see if the property owner accepts it. Much like with buying a place in America, there can be multiple offers coming in and it can become a bidding war (factors are: number of tenants, when they could take possession, how much they'll pay for rent, etc). This whole thing was foreign to me, as I'm used to fixed rent price (I think I negotiated my rent once in America, and that was because of some maintenance issues that came to light), and to the property owner/administrator simply picking the tenant that he/she feels would be the most responsible. I'm also used to basically unlimited inventory - I've never ever been worried in America about finding a place to live, as there were always properties available. Not so over here - the good neighborhoods fill up fast, and turn over is slow. So when you find a flat you like, you put down a deposit, and submit your application - and then sit back and wait...wait...wait to see if you're the chosen one (like Marianne Slade).

So, because of this bidding-war mentality, flats can go on the market and then off again in a matter of hours (just like really good properties for sale in the U.S.). Estate agents therefore are very urgent about scheduling appointments as soon as they can, and so they did not like the fact that I was only available on weekends. I got a lot of "Oh, dear" and "Well, we can book a viewing, but I there is no guarantee it will still be available..."; in this case, I just had to take the risk. Add to this that most of the flats I saw online that I liked were all mysteriously "suddenly on offer", leading me to believe that the entire housing market in England is one big scam.

Anyway, I had the gamut of estate agents working with me - the overeager puppy (the guy who had me on the phone so long and who called so many times per day that my work colleagues were like "Is he asking you out?", and "Are you going to be Facebook friends now, like you are with Marianne Slade?"), the perpetually confused ("Who are you again? What are you looking for?" even though I had just spoken to them 5 minutes before) and the completely disinterested (passive air of ennui - funnily enough, the agent who showed me what is now my flat fell into this category). I ended up scheduling a fully day of viewings on a Saturday and luckily had company to view them. Which was a good thing because these chucklehead estate agents kept trying to show me everything from what looked like a recently converted crack den to literally a hole in the wall. (I'm not kidding. We went up some scary Hunchback of Notre Dame steps to a narrow door; upon opening the door, you literally fell into the bedroom. The kitchen was the size of a Port-a-Potty and I think a Party House for Vampires would have more natural light. The craziest part was that the place was only £125 less than the flat I currently have!!) In addition, despite my being very specific about my desired location, Mr. Overeager Puppy insisted on taking me to a marginal neighborhood that was on the outskirts of my chosen area. We had to view several places that reeked of cabbage, failed dreams and felonies before he finally got it through his head that I had standards. And in the end, nearly every place he took me was more than I could afford anyway.

I knew when I saw the flat that is currently mine that I had found the one I wanted. But I looked at all the others to be fair. Not all of them were BAD... they were just shocking to my American eyes. Some were dirty, or just lacking what I consider to be normal amenities. I can handle the lack of space, but I cannot abide the lack of closets or nasty bathrooms. One place had a toilet that looked like it was installed before I was born. And the flat was marketed as "luxury". Even though that to get to the aforementioned "high quality" bathroom facilities, you had to walk through the bedroom. I haven't seen a set up like that since my days in college, or that time I visited Marianne Slade's double wide trailer - and that only occurred because you had 4 people living in what was a 3 bedroom or something, and so the living room became a bedroom. I don't think I've ever seen a place where that layout was deliberate. Not correct actually - now I can say that I have.

The place I ended up choosing isn't perfect by any means. I've had a host of drama since moving in (that will be a subject for another blog entry), it's on the 4th floor with no lift (elevator), there's no parking for guests and it lacks storage space. Former tenants were apparently related to elephants and so the landlord put down these hideous rugs everywhere. Well, okay, they're not HIDEOUS... they're just tan and ugly and somewhat stained. (I'm working on a compromise where I replace the nasties with a nice sunny area rug... we'll see)

On the plus side, it's on the top floor so it gets flooded with natural light. The ceilings are relatively high, the rooms are decent size and the fittings are fairly modern. There is a dishwasher and a newer stove and refrigerator. And the washer/dryer - while it isn't much to look at - actually DRIES most of my clothes. (That nearly put me into shock when I figured it out). I'm less than 10 minutes from the train station, which means Marianne Slade won't have to walk that far to come visit me, and there's a bus station at the end of my street. I can walk to a mini-Boots, a Cooperative food store (a small food chain), several bakeries and restaurants. I can take the train to Wimbledon (4 min) where there is a pretty big shopping centre with Marks & Spencer, Sainsbury's and Tesco - or I can take the train to Kingston (about 12 min away) where there is a HUGE shopping area with nearly everything I could possibly think of.

I realised today when I was coming back from Wimbledon that I haven't walked this much since I was 17... (nearly 17 years ago... YIKES!) and I absolutely love it. I was in the best shape of my life back then (not as buff as Marianne Slade is now, but close...), when I didn't have a car and had to walk everywhere. I hate any kind of enforced exercise (gyms bore me and classes are just an opportunity for me to showcase exactly how uncoordinated I am. The only class I really like is boxing, and it's hard to find one that is affordable and offered when I'm free) - so I'm loving the fact that I can stay in shape simply by doing things I normally do. The four flights of stairs I hit twice a day (at least) + the walk to/from the trian station + steps at the various stations + the flights of steps at work + getting around the neighborhood to do my usual stuff. I'm sure there will come a time when I miss my car (probably when I'm freezing my butt off waiting for a delayed train) - but I'm really enjoying not having to deal with parking or English roads.

*My friend Marianne only reads my blog to see how many times her name is mentioned. I'm making her day.

Anything worth having is worth fighting for... (Mobile Phone Adventures!)

2010-10-20T11:07:00.000+01:00

Mood: "You're gonna eat lightnin' and you're gonna crap thunder"

Theme Song: "Murder Was the Case" - Snoop Dogg + "I Fought The Law" - Sex Pistols (a mash-up)

This morning started out like any other morning. I woke up, growled at my alarm, hit snooze. Lay in bed feeling guilty for hitting snooze, and so got out of bed 5 minutes later. Showered, put on a reasonably matching outfit, tried to get into the car from the wrong side and made the ever-so-annoying commute into the office.

Things were looking up. Today is payday and so I actually have more than £3. I turned on the car to hear my man Snoop-a-Loop busting his rhymes over Katy Perry's "California Girls". I was happy. Whoo-hoo, something resembling decent music at 8:08am in England! I made it all the way to the office without encountering a single bicyclist, piece of farm equipment or other slow-moving vehicle. I even remembered to bring my greek yogurt in with me so I had a happy time breakfast with my tea.

And then I did the unthinkable. I tried to order a SIM card online so that I can have a non-work cell phone here in the UK. I was using a really cool website that was recommended to me where I can get ££ back for making normal purchases. Tesco Mobile is having a great special where you can get 500 minutes, unlimited texts and unlimited data all for just £10/month. The only thing I'd need to do is buy a handset to go with the SIM card. Silly, silly me to think it would be easy.

I completed everything online, only getting nervous when I got to the "Previous Address" section. I filled in my UK address, noting that I lived there for 10 months. I then needed to add my previous addresses so they have 3 years of history. And therein lies the rub. The system was not set up to accept non-UK addresses.

Which, by the way, floors me. England has been around for what, about a gazillion years? And they have had a steady influx of immigrants in that time. Even though I'm pretty damn special, I know for a fact that I am not the first or only American to set foot upon these hallowed shores - and I know I can't be the first Yank to want to buy a cell phone/SIM card. Everyone makes fun of America for living inside a bubble, but the English don't even know how to recognize a non-UK address online!!

So anyway, I did my best to put in my US addresses into the format provided - knowing that I would get an error message and have to call in. Which is exactly what happened. So I called Customer Care wherein my life collided with some poor soul named Amy. I explained the entire situation and she agreed to help. I just needed to give her the exact details of my US addresses, as well as my Passport number to confirm my identity and we would be good to go. After I explained that I wasn't about to lose my £10 cash back because Tesco's website hated on Americans, she even said she would bounce my order back into the online system so it would go through as normal and I would get my credit. I was feeling on top of the world when she put me on hold "to finalise my order".

Now before I continue, let me just add that as I am typing this, I get the following message from the UK Royal Mail - since I am moving, I need to BUY (no, they don't forward for free like in the U.S.) their redirection service so I can be sure to get my mail. I thought I'd take advantage of their "convenient" online service - hahahahaha, no.

Ms. Federman - Sorry, some of your personal information could not be verified. Unfortunately, this means your application for a Redirection cannot be completed online. We apologise for any inconvenience this may cause, but we take the security of your mail very seriously, and cannot process this application online. You can still apply for a Redirection by post, or by visiting your nearest Post Office™.

Sweet baby Jesus. This country serious hates me!!

So anyway... Amy came back only to tell me that my order could not go through because there was no credit check generated because I haven't lived in the UK for 3 years. Even though I told her this already. Now this wasn't her fault, but it was still maddening. Apparently what we needed to do was start all over again, only this time tell the system that I have lived in the UK for 3 years, so that it would automatically generate a credit check - so that it could be rejected, so that they could enter in all my information manually. Even though I had already given them all of this information. To say that I was upset is putting it mildly.

With old age and experience I have learned not to take my frustration out on the Amys of the world. It isn't their fault that this country is jacked up, or that they turn buying a cell phone SIM card into the equivalent of an organ donation or nuclear arms deal. But inside... oh, inside I was yelling and cursing all things English.

Me to Amy: "Have you ever seen Pretty Woman?"
Amy: "Oh, of course! Julia Roberts! I love that movie."
Me: "Remember the scene where Richard Gere gives her money to go shopping, and then she goes to Rodeo Drive and tries to buy clothes? And they wouldn't sell them to her, and she was like 'But I have all this money!' and they were like NO YOU CANNOT HAVE ANY CLOTHES...?"
Amy: "Yes (laughing)"
Me: "That is how I feel right now."
Amy: (laughter)... "I totally understand. Well, here's what I CAN do..." (and she proceeds to tell me how we're going to circumvent the system and how she's going to credit my account with the £10 I would have received from the Cash Back website had everything gone as it should have from the beginning)
Me: "Aww, you're like the nice lady in the movie who helps Julia finally find a dress. Thank you".

Now, I'm not sure what it says about me, or my life, that my first port of call is to identify with a movie character who is a hooker on the come up, but I felt it captured the situation perfectly.

Amy then transferred me to James, who took all my information again, along with a bunch of new information. I was surprised he didn't ask my blood type, my star sign or if I liked long walks on the beach, too. But finally- FINALLY - I was approved. I am sure James was very amused at the crazy American woman nearly weeping with gratitude on the other end of the line, but at least he has a good story for his friends later.

Oooh....I just received my "Thank you for your order" email.
Ten months in this country and I FINALLY get a cell phone. I swear to all that is holy I think I could have bought an Ethiopian baby with less hassle.

Victory Is Mine!!!

And it only took 1hour 12 minutes of my time this morning. >.<

Federman out.

And So It Begins Again...

2010-10-15T13:36:00.001+01:00

Mood: Fiesty

So I called SkyTV today to inform them that I will be moving and no longer require their services. I wanted to know where I should return my cable box and router (pronounced "rooter" over here). Imagine my surprise when I was told that I was in a 12 month contract and so I couldn't cancel my service until January! I explained to the Customer Service Representative (named Laura, who had a delightful Scottish accent) that I believed she was mistaken, as I have never signed any contract. Never clicked anything online to that effect. Never given the verbal okay for any such thing. I shy away from any form of contract, as I don't like being trapped that way.

Well, boys and girls, it turns out that when I accepted my cable box from the installation man, I was given an "A4 size handbook" and in this handbook there is a section entitled "Terms and Conditions", and in these "Terms and Conditions", it states that by taking possession of my cable equipment, I am essentially agreeing to a 12 month contract with Sky TV!!!

To say I became a bit angry is like saying Coach Bobby Knight has a wee bit of a temper. I am proud of myself in that I didn't raise my voice - but I was very, very vocal about my feelings on the legality of this "contract" and the dubious nature in which it was executed. Playing on every Englishman's innate fear of offending another race or culture, I explained in great detail how "taken advantage of" I felt, and how I felt "discriminated towards" because, as an American, I am not familiar with the English way of hoodwinking individuals into shady contracts. **I have to admit, I had a bit of fun with trying to explain how being American put me at a marked disadvantage - when everyone knows that AMERICA IS THE BEST COUNTRY IN THE WORLD ;)**

My years of dedicated Law & Order viewings came in handy as I then moved on to exercising my limited legal knowledge as I explained that to the best of my knowledge, a contract involves two people mutually agreeing on something. A contract does not involve a sweaty service technician tossing me a handbook and a remote on his way out the door.

Laura kept repeating the party line - basically there was nothing she could do, blah blah blah. I then let loose with my exact feelings on English customer service - that there isn't any.

That in America, at least people try to make the customer happy instead of just repeating things like a broken record. I remember saying something like "I'm a very unhappy customer right now, and as you can tell, I'm not a quiet person. I'm sure you don't want me telling everyone I know just exactly why SKY is horrible and why they should never use your service". When that only earned me the same repeated response of unhelpfulness, I asked to speak to a manager. When I was told that a manager probably wasn't available and couldn't help me anyway, I told her that I'd hold for a Director. "We can play this game all day, I've got time." I basically said I wanted someone with the authority to solve my problem and I wasn't going away until things were solved.

Well, at this point I think Laura realised that she had met her match - and then some, and that just repeating the same thing over and over again wasn't going to shut up the loud angry American. And what do you know, she suddenly developed a personality. We ended up having a good laugh about how things are done in England, and she agreed that their way of enforcing a "contract" left much to be desired. She asked all about how we do things in America and I explained that if I don't want something anymore, I cancel it. And that even if you've signed a contract, there is always a loophole or a way out. Most companies want your repeat business, or at least don't want you to badmouth them, so they are willing to be flexible. (She was quite amazed at this, and with the idea that no one in their right mind would sit around and wait 3-5 weeks for a phone line to be installed or for cable TV to be turned on).

Best line from Laura? "You know, I have an American friend and she sounds just like you all the time... Laura, why is England doing this to me? How is this legal? How do they get away with this???" - which was comforting as it reaffirmed my contention that I am NOT the only foreigner to be shocked and horrified by English "customer service"... I just might be the loudest one about it. I hate to say it, but sometimes I do wonder if England really and truly is a first-world country or if that is just a myth like the "One Size Fits All" thong at Victoria's Secret.

We left it that Laura was going to go up the food chain to see what could be done and I'm to call back on Monday. She kindly typed in notes of our conversation, telling me she was writing "good" notes and reading them aloud. She managed to make me sound upset and affronted but without the brute force American hyperbole. She also explained that I can get the channels I thought I didn't have on SKY (like More4 and More4+1) and so if worse comes to worse, I could possibly just transfer my service to my new address. I was pretty clear that I'd rather not do this, but then again - I'd rather not pay £200 for service I'm not using, either. And if I can get The Daily Show, at least I can sulk in peace.

I'm rather proud of myself because at the beginning of the call, I know Laura wanted to kill me, or at the very least, have me deported. But by the end of the call, she was giving me consumer watchdog sites to check out for help on contracts, telling me jokes and giving me ideas on how to work the system. *g*

I know how to use my powers of persuasion to my benefit in the U.S., but it is a whole new ballgame over here, and requires a MUCH softer, more patient touch. (On a side note, that is one thing I am being forced to learn over here, whether I like it or not: patience. There is just no other option, and believe me, I've tried to find one)

I think the funniest part of this whole situation was that I managed to scare our new Marketing Assistant, who is right out of University. Apparently she was sitting there listening, mouth hanging open, and rather worried until Emma leaned over and said, "Oh, don't worry, this is nothing. Everything's fine. It's just SKY." ;)

My team at work is used to this kind of call from me. When I first moved, I had several acrimonious - and now legendary - calls with British Telephone, British Gas, SKY, you name it. And I was much, much angrier and far less reasonable. (I was homesick, exhausted, frustrated and in a generally pissed off mood about England in general). I have since mellowed as I have adjusted to the speed and style of my surroundings.

Next week I get to call the utilities, and I'm sure that will be a barrel of laughs. I will be so happy when I'm all moved, everything is arranged, and things can go back to normal again. Or whatever is passing for "normal" these days in my life. Because after all, I'm still in England.

Federman out.

English Food

2010-10-14T14:05:00.001+01:00

14 October 2010
Mood: Slightly homesick
Theme Song: for some reason "Islands in the Stream" (yes, the one with Kenny Rogers and Dolly Parton) is stuck in my head... MAKE IT STOP!!

So I've been complaining about English food for some time now, and struggling to explain myself when I say everything is just...weird. After much thought, I think the best way is to just show you all what I mean. If you're anything like me, you'll see that there is edible food available, but that it is put together in very strange ways that don't seem terribly appetizing... or healthy.

The one thing I am absolutely DYING for over here is a decent salad. I don't want iceberg lettuce and bacon and chicken. I don't want iceberg lettuce and shaved carrots and one sad tomato and the culinary travesty that is "salad cream" (tastes like sour mayonnaise, should be banned globally).

Example 1 - Weird Restaurant Food
Near my office in Ashford (Kent), there is a chain restaurant called "Beefeater". Don't be fooled by the name, as you would not want to eat any beef they produce. Every time I go there for lunch, I spend a good 5 minutes staring at the menu, struck dumb by the fact that while I recognize all the food being offered, I don't understand why they must combine it the way they do.
Visit - http://www.beefeater.co.uk/a/uploaded/menus/flamingGoodMealDeals.pdf to see just what I mean

Across the street from work there is a small retail area (not exactly a strip mall) and a pub called The Pheasant. We eat there often because it is fast, relatively inexpensive and the food isn't horrid. But there are weird combinations running amok. You have to see it to believe some of it - http://www.pheasantpub.co.uk/uploads/2f0cca3b-5c9f-d504-5d0c-83447c416f26.pdf

Example 2 - KFC and other fast food
Everyone knows that eating KFC is hazardous to your health, and that the chickeny goodness that you bask in when you open that bucket is soon going to wreak havoc on your insides. That goes without saying. But imagine that you pull into the Colonel, heart set on a meal with no nutritionally redeeming qualities only to discover -
NO MASHED POTATOES AND GRAVY. And even worse, NO EXTRA CRISPY OPTION. And the coup de grace? NO BISCUITS. Yes, you heard me. No biscuits, no packets of honey.

Ah but what do you get instead? You get... baked beans. Or corn. Or fries. Or coleslaw. Or gravy. These boneheads offer gravy but NO FREAKING BISCUITS.

Don't take my word for it, check it out for yourself - http://www.kfc.co.uk/our-menu/sides-and-drinks/

Also, there is no Wendy's. No Chipotle. No Qdoba. No Taco Bell. No Red Robin. No Taco Time. No Jack in the Box. No White Castle, even. (I am aware that there may be one or two of these somewhere in the greater London area, but they're not on every intersection like back home). Sure there's McDonald's and Burger King, but both of them are nasty no matter what country you're in. :(

Example 3 - The Grocery Store (or as the English say "Supermarket")

The first thing I have to say is that I was literally shocked into silence by the vast amounts of ... wait for it... CHEESE that exist over here. There are entire aisles filled with CHEESE. (this still amazes me, even after seeing it every week) Also, the eggs aren't refrigerated. I'm not sure how that makes me feel, seeing the eggs on a random shelf next to peanut butter and preserves. It's just weird, unholy almost. And you can't get real Ramen noodles over here. They sell "pot noodles" which look like Ramen noodles, even smell like Ramen noodles but do not taste like Ramen noodles. Which leaves me wondering - how the HELL do you f--- up Ramen noodles???

There is a hierarchy of grocery stores here. I guess it is the same in the U.S., but I suppose I have never really thought about the "class" of my grocery experience. I know that the joke is Whole Foods = Whole Paycheck, but other than that, a grocery store is a grocery store. Granted, some of the best bargains can be found in superstores (like Meijer, Fred Meyer, Super Wal-Mart) and in club stores (Costco, Sam's) - but prices are fairly standard across the board. I'm not going to try to rank the stores because I'll surely get it wrong. But I can tell you my personal experiences from shopping in Canterbury.

Morrison's - this store attracts a weird mix - screaming heathen children who seem to be unsupervised, older professionals, people of dubious employment status, and people like myself who like one or two products that only they provide (in my case, I love Greek yogurt, and Morrison's is the only place I have found that sells single-serving sizes of it instead of by the pint). This is apaprently part of the Safeway family, though I didn't know that until today when I googled it. On a positive note, the one by my house has a dry cleaner's inside and a gas station attached. (Don't even get me started on the exorbitant cost of dry cleaning over here!)

Hilariously enough, today's banner on their website is advertising baked beans, tea and "digestives" (basically tea cookies).

Sainsbury's - this store is all about the Family. I don't know if that is their goal, but every time I go in there, I am nearly run over by families doing their shopping. Zooming all over aisles, not paying attention, their children hopping all over everything... it's a nightmare! They do happen to have a nice selection of fresh fruit and vegetables and the largest selection of soups that I've found so far. They also sometimes have cheap clothing (t-shirts, stockings, socks, etc). But if you look at the website, there's not a racket they aren't into. Credit cards, Insurance, Furniture, Electronics - you name it, you can buy it at Sainsburys.com. I don't know about you, but I'd feel a bit weird knowing I got my eggs, my sofa bed and my homeowner's insurance all from my local grocery store.

Tesco - now Tesco REALLY knows how to get into everything but the kitchen sink. Check out their website. You can order all kinds of things... it is a bit like Wal-Mart, a grocery store and Target got together and had a baby. The Tesco by my house is where all the people on a budget shop. It's lit with these hideous flourescent lights, and always packed with shifty looking individuals, students and people I am sure are professional shop-lifters. I only go into it as a last resort - usually to buy something I can't find at M&S - like the kind of butter I like, or Honey Nut Cheerios, or hard alcohol. :P The good thing about Tesco is that you collect points which earn you coupons that are actually useful. The bad part about Tesco is you actually have to go shop there to use the coupons.

Marks & Spencer - this is apparently on the more "posh" end of the spectrum. The people who shop here are old people (lots of them, they come in DROVES), lots of people like myself and yuppies. I shop there because it's the nicest store in Canterbury and I love their ready-to-heat oven meals and fresh bread. Most things in the store are M&S branded but they are pretty high quality. They have the best mashed potatoes I've found (just microwave and YUM!), really good M&S brand soda and really fresh fruit & veg (oh! I sound so English ha!). They also do this thing where you can get "Dinner for 2 for £10" - an entree, a side, a dessert and a bottle of wine. That's a pretty good deal in English monies (basically $15). The M&S Food Hall is usually attached to a full Marks & Spencer, which is essentially a department store. They have great underwear and hosiery, and I've been noticing that their clothes aren't too bad either. I guess I have to admit that I also like saying that I shop at Marks & Spencer because it sounds so terribly English. :P

I know there are way more, but I'll close with a short discussion of -

Waitrose - People told me Waitrose was posh (fancy, expensive) - and they were right. It is also the only chain store I've found that has some of the American brands I miss. Like Newman's Own Light Balsamic Vinaigrette. Or Amy's Organic soups. And they have really cool ready to eat meals, great seafood and a wide selection of fresh vegetables and fruit. But you pay for this privilege. You pay for the store being clean, and neat, and ordered. You pay for clerks who are actually very nice to you. You pay for a seafood man who will get you sushi-grade salmon just the way you like it. I like Waitrose, but only for specific occasions or when I desperately need something American - or when I need something fancy, like champagne or decent ready-made sushi. And we all know those occasions happen SO OFTEN... so it is safe to say I don't frequent Waitrose that much.

I really miss American grocery stores - the variety, the space, things being where I know I can find them. I'm slowly getting used to the system over here, but it is still maddening to spend 20minutes wandering around desperately searching for "chicken broth"... only to find out there is no such thing over here and that the closest is "chicken stock" or "stock granules". Note: asking for "bouillon cubes" results in panicked, strange looks.

I suppose I'll get used to things after awhile... or go crazy and burn down the building like Milton ;)

Federman out.

Jabberwocky

2010-09-30T11:17:00.002+01:00

30 September 2010
Mood: Fiesty!
Theme Song: "Killing in the Name" - Rage Against The Machine (just love that last screaming chorus...)

That is my "England" face. You see how incredibly excited I am. I think this was just after I had gotten stuck behind a slow-moving transport van, a weaving bicyclist, and the British version of Metro bus. I work 13.77 miles from my house, which according to every set of online directions I've found, should take me about 22 minutes from door-to-door. So why, WHY, unless I leave at o'dark thirty, does it take me at least 40 minutes every day? I wake up every morning feeling like P Diddy and get to the office feeling more like Suge Knight, ready to shank a m-fer with my damn shiv *grrr*

Someone asked me the other day why I stay here, since I'm always hating on England. It's a valid question, and one I consider quite frequently. I guess the truth of the matter is that I'm stubborn and filled with a certain amount of pride. If I were to run home now, it would be akin to admitting defeat. And see, that just does not work so well for me because I hate to lose. I understand that due to certain unalterable laws of mathematics as well as outside forces beyond my control, I cannot win every time. And I'm coming to terms with this. But when the situation is under my control, then it is game on, Holmes. England will not beat me, period.

So why do I stay? I stay because I can. Because there's a part of me that thinks if I can just through this first year, things will be better. I will stop being annoyed by the sub-standard roads and bad driving. I won't break into hives every time I have to listen to Girls Aloud, Biffy Clyro or JLS. I will resign myself to the fact that while it may be fresher, the way the food combined here is just awful and no amount of angry face or complaining will change that. I will learn to control my Hulk-like anger that arises whenever I have to deal with any sort of British bureaucracy, and I will accept that good customer service over here is like some mythical beast or the fountain of youth (people may talk about it, and a few may actually believe in it but it just doesn't exist).

There are some good things about England, although the fact that I can list them so quickly and in such a finite manner is rather telling...

Baked goods. I think if England had just thrown scones at the soldiers in the Revolutionary War, they would have won by default. I know I'd put down a rifle to eat a warm, flaky sultana scone. Who needs freedom when you have jam and butter and a full belly? Tax my ass without representation, fine. Just feed me more of those round yummy things.
Coca-Cola with real sugar. High Fructose Corn Syrup is slowly spreading its dark shadow over here, but it hasn't gotten everywhere. I can still get a Coke made with real, hoppity-hop sugary goodness. And believe you me, there is definitely a difference in the way it tastes. I can have half a Coke over here and be completely satisfied. And I'd rather have half of a real Coke than a bunch of Diet Cokes.
Cheese. O, glorious cheese - how I love thee in all your many British versions. In America , we have Cheddar, Swiss, American, Pepperjack, Monterrey Jack. If you're lucky, or in a high-fallutin' place, you can get Brie, Gouda, Havarti and maybe a few others. Over here there are entire AISLES in normal grocery stores dedicated to JUST CHEESE. I have done some serious research and there are about 450 varieties of cheese over here - take a look! I'm going to make it my mission to try them all!
Chocolate. Sorry Hershey's, but European chocolate RULES. Hands down, no contest.

Hmm... I've just realised that all of the positives I'm listing are food. I guess that says something about where my priorities lie... LOL. To be fair, here are a few other ways that England doesn't totally suck -

Public Transportation - busses, trams, trains, tubes. If you can't get there by public transport, you probably didn't want to go anyway
Cutting, Dry Humor - if you really want to know how to properly insult someone, ask an English person. They are masters at doing it, and still sounding very proper and nice about it, too!
Boots - I love Boots. It's no Walgreens or CVS, but it is still fun to shop there. I don't know why I think it is so fun, I just love saying "Oh well, I'm off to Boots!"
The Queen - its just cool to be in a country that has a queen.

And now I'm off to try to actually be productive today. And oh look, the sun is out... sort of. So if you drive by my office and see someone pressed up against the glass like a fish in a fishbowl, that is me - desperately trying to get some much needed Vitamin D. ;)

Federman out.

Amsterdam!

2010-09-30T00:02:00.001+01:00

29 September 2010
Mood: Awake (does that count?)
Theme Song: "Amsterdam" by Peter Bjorn and John

I've been meaning to write about my short trip to Amsterdam for awhile, but as with many things, time has slipped away from me. But I want to record my impressions before they fade away completely. I went on 13 and 14 September as part of a European team meeting.

The first thing that struck me was how close Amsterdam is to London. Now we all know I possess the geographic skills of a slightly slow 4th grader but I actually did know where Amsterdam was on the map. I just didn't realise it was only an hour flight away. I took a BA flight out of London-Gatwick at ridiculous o'clock in the morning and I barely had time to get comfortable and start drooling before we were landing. I was so incredibly tired I was nearly delirious, as I had just returned from the U.S. the day before. In fact, I was in my house less than 24 hours before heading back out again, and due to the time difference and jet lag, I managed a combined total of about 5 hours sleep (between naps and actually trying to sleep). I think its fair to say I was not spreading joy and happiness to all at Gatwick that morning. (In fact, I distinctly remember giving the evil eye to the lady who served me at EAT, and engaging in a rather contentious discussion about why damn British people insist on putting sauces on perfectly good food - i.e. mayonnaise on sandwiches, hollandaise on an egg sandwich. I just wanted the equivalent of an Egg McMuffin really... yeah, it did not end well, so maybe I should just forget all about that experience...)

The Amsterdam airport is very large, and very modern. I was very impressed, and I've seen my fair share of airports. Most of the signs were in English, but it was still rather jarring to see Dutch everywhere. I'll be honest, I have a deep love for languages and pride myself on being able to quickly learn several phrases wherever I go. I went to Germany, learned some German. Went to Japan, learned more than a little bit of Japanese (which is challenging to pronounce correctly). I do okay in Spain, Italy and France. I can handle a bit of Russian and I've even been known to get a few Turkish phrases right. But Dutch... for some reason, I cannot wrap my head around the way it is supposed to sound. It looks one way but then the accent and inflection is all wrong in my head. For a perfectionist like myself, it was immensely frustrating not to even be able to pick up "Hello", "How are you"... nothing. Well, I did manage a "dank u" or two, but I'm fairly certain I was saying it incorrectly.

I only had two days in Amsterdam - both filled with meetings. We got a car from the airport - which incidentally (and quite smartly) was connected to the train station. What a novel idea! There was also this really cool high-tech message board where you could text message a note to people you were meeting and it would show up on the screen. A great system if you're meeting someone, especially with the amounts of people swarming about everywhere. It sure beats our American-style intercom system where everything sounds unbearably loud and twangy or like some unintelligible alien language. Plus, I really hate standing in the middle of an airport and hearing that Mr. Sanderson needs to return to security because he left his wallet behind.

The car driver was very nice - I explained that it was my first trip to Amsterdam and so he went out of his way to point out local sights. I was happy to see that in Amsterdam, they have sense and drive on the RIGHT SIDE OF THE ROAD! As we left the highway and got into town, the first thing I noticed were the bicycles. They were everywhere. And the people riding them were not shy at all about weaving in and out of traffic, seemingly at random and with no concern for their own well-being.

I also noticed that the city seemed to be a beautiful mix of old and new... and reminded me strangely of parts of Boston and New York. Which, I guess makes sense - given the fact that New York was once called New Amsterdam (cue the They Might Be Giants song...). I absolutely loved all of the row houses and the canals. And there were a lot of canals. Unfortunately, I had no time during my trip to walk around and explore. We did pass a gorgeous museum, which is currently being renovated... and we passed the Van Gogh museum (you all know I was itching to jump out of the car and go explore!). The driver also pointed out the site of the original Heineken Brewery. They don't brew beer there anymore, but there is still a big sign and I think he said they give tours (would love to see that, too).

The hotel was very nice - in the city center on a cute little side street. It was very modern, and very European inside. I somehow lucked out and was given an Executive Suite. My room was almost as big as the first floor of my flat. Why is it that when I'm staying somewhere for just 1 or 2 nights, and I will be spending little to no time in my room, I am given these gorgeous accommodations? But when I'm spending weeks, or basically living in a hotel, I end up rocking it out at the Holiday Inn Rockland (not to name names or anything...)? Redeeming qualities for this hotel were that they offered real coffee (espresso! latte! cappuccino!) and served some amazing food for breakfast and lunch. When I'm traveling, there is nothing I dislike more than having to eat crap food. My extensive number of trips to and fro have taught me the importance of healthy eating while on the road - lots of fruit, vegetables, salad and lean protein. Nothing gives you that unhealthy pallor or bloated look faster than a spate of fatty, greasy hotel meals.

After our meetings, we walked down a few streets to where two big coach buses were waiting alongside one of the canals. We ended up going to something called - if i'm remembering correctly - de KookFabriek. Which apparently means "cooking factory". We basically were split into 4 groups and we made a 3 course meal created by Michelin chef Ron Blaauw as teams, which we then ate. It was amazingly fun. There was a healthy amount of skepticism that we would actually be able to pull it off, but we did - and the food was fantastic.It was one of the neatest teambuilding events I've ever been part of - a really easy and fun way to get to know one another while establishing comraderie and trust.

After we got back to the hotel, I was absolutely exhausted but determined to see the Red Light District. You can see my photos from the grand adventure by clicking here. I walked there with a few people in a drizzly rain and was distinctly unimpressed. To be fair, I'm sure I would have been a bit more titilated had I - been in college, been marginally more awake, been drunk or been of the male gender. But as it were, I found the whole place to be unnecessary. Nothing about it was sexy or stimulating. The girls in the windows were nothing special and they really did not want their photos taken. Which surprised me. Your job is to stand in a window in basically your underpants and advertise yourself as merchandise - basically saying, Come in on, give me some money, I love you long time. And yet, when I tried to snap a picture, they yanked the curtains closed, shouted obscenities and flipped me the bird! (Methinks the ladies of the Red Light District could benefit from charm school)

But like many other things in life, I can now say "I've been to the Red Light District". I supposed it would be more interesting to go back when I had more time and was with someone who isn't going to mind my anthropological level of interest in the place, or my goofy comments. (Example... we passed a club that was advertising basically every combination of sexual act you can imagine... and it had a big sign saying "Air Conditioning". My thought was "Well... I was going to pass on the girl-on-boy-on-money-on-midget show...but now that I see they have AIR CONDITIONING... well, hell! How can a girl say no to that?")

I had to leave the next day, but my overall thoughts on Amsterdam are:

Beautiful city
Loved the canals - could totally see myself wearing a jauntily placed beret and wandering them while nibbling on delicious Dutch chocolate
It's an hour away and there are lots of cheap flights, so I will be going back at some point
I would love to see it at Christmas
I am dying for the Euro Trip "brownies" experience, as well as the VanderSexx ;)

Also, on a side note, we flew Easy Jet on the way back and here are just some observations on that.

Easy Jet hate on you. Period. Nothing about the whole experience is designed to make you happy
I think they hire flight attendants right out of high school. I swear the two we had probably have Justin Bieber and Jonas Brothers posters on their walls at home
Safety is not a really big concern. One of my colleagues was in the bathroom and the plane was taxiing away from the stand. As in, we're about to go airborne folks, and they don't care!
The whole concept brings out the absolute worst in human beings. There are no assigned seats - its not even like Southwest (in America) where you have A, B and C zones. The only thing that is offered is "Speedy Boarding" which essentially means you pay extra to get a head start in running towards the plane. That's right, I said running. Because Easy Jet don't roll with no jetbridge. Uhn-uhn. It's haul ass across the tarmac and then climb up those steps, Fantasy-Island style. And if you don't do Speedy Boardin, you end up fighting the other 100+ people who are trying to get on the plane. I've never seen so much panic, pushing, shoving and sheer madness. For a ONE HOUR FLIGHT. Seriously, people. If you get stuck in the middle seat, your world won't end!
It's probably due to too many repeat viewings of LOST, but since there are no assigned seats on the plane, the good folks at Easy Jet have no idea where anyone is sitting. And so if we go down in a fiery burst of glory, there is no way for the rescue team to figure out who is what, where. It would just be a mass of burned up people and quite a logistical mess. They would have to call in BONES or something.

That's all she wrote, folks. Next entry I promise to hate on England some more. I think it's time to get back into the habit of updating this thing more often. All those crazy thoughts inside my head need an outlet!!

Federman out.

Hate on England #1

2010-09-19T20:49:00.000+01:00

I have said several times that I often hate on England for stupid things that happen. I'm going to start recording these, both for my own amusement and for posterity's sake. A good example is what happened last night.

My friend Marianne called Domino's to order a pizza for the two of us. She called around 18:30h (6:30pm), as I was due to arrive around 19h (7-ish), and so the pizza would soon follow. Well, it got to be close to 20h (8pm) and no pizza. So Marianne called Domino's. The first person she talked to told her that her pizza would be delayed at least a half an hour. The rest of the conversation went something like this:

M: "Another half hour? That would mean the pizza will be an hour late."
D (Domino's Employee) says something about problems with the oven.
M: "Well, that's not acceptable. When will my pizza be here?"
As is the custom in England, they put her on hold and gave her to an even less helpful person who then explained that the oven had broken and so our order was cancelled.
M: "As I told the person before, that is not acceptable"
Domino's employee asks Marianne what she'd like to do. She responds by saying, "Well, I'd like not to order from your facility anymore!"
The employee then goes on to explain that they cancelled the order and apparently there is nothing they can do for us. Marianne raised the very valid point that as they had her phone number as part of the order, they should have called to say that the oven was broken and no pizza was coming. Apparently the Domino's employee took issue with this idea, finding it rather unreasonable. Marianne's response - which I love - was, "Yeah? Well, ok thanks! I hope you get deported!" and she hung up the phone.
We then ordered Chinese food, which arrived on time with no issues.

In America, Domino's would have called. And probably offered a pizza from their nearest location, OR some kind of financial remuneration. Over here in England, they just don't care! Seriously. They could have cared less!

And so ends this first edition of "Why I hate on England". More to come, I'm sure... :)

America, the Beautiful

2010-09-15T18:07:00.001+01:00

11 September 2010
Mood: EXHAUSTED
Theme Song: Nothing, as I left my iPod on the plane from Atlanta to Cincinnati two weeks ago *angry face*

Sitting in the Atlanta airport waiting for my return flight back to London Gatwick. It always amazes me how many people are always in the airport, no matter where I am. I sit here wondering - where are they going? why are they going there? are they happy? sad? future axe murderers? (yes, yes I know I think too much)

This trip back home has been so surreal for me. I haven't been back to Cincinnati since the very first of the year. (I went to San Diego for work in March but that was just a few days and very isolated - work all day, hotel, etc.) I know I've only been living in England for going on 9 months now, but it has already started to feel like "home" - maybe that is why I have been so hyperaware of all of the differences.

Someone asked me during my time here to describe the top three differences between the U.S. and England. Here is what I said:

Expecation of service. This is not to say that you get bad service all the time in England. What I mean is that we, as Americans, have an innate expectation of good service. Our free market system means that if we don't get what we need/want from one provider/vendor, we can easily (in most cases) simply just go somewhere else. Companies, by and large, want to provide good service and want to make the customer happy. I don't think it's the same in England - or at least that's been my experience. The country is smaller and the infrastructure is different, and so there isn't this need to please or retain business... people often don't have anywhere else to go. British Telephone make you mad? Well, sorry for you, because that's your one-stop shop. Sure, you can order through Sky TV or TalkTalk or any other vendor, but at the end of the day, it's BT who is installing that phone. And they take their sweet time about it, too. I've also found this to be true in terms of hospitality service. I don't know if it is because people don't work for tips in England, but the service in restaurants is usually apalling. In the U.S., we are trained as servers to bring drinks/greet a table within 2 minutes. That is pretty much industry best practice. I have waited 10-15 minutes... in a half-full restaurant... for someone to acknowledge my presence. Granted, England does not move at the hyperfast speed of the U.S., but I think it is more than that. There's just a general sense of ennui and disassociation from the customer.
Sense of adventure. Now, I know that this is going to sound funny to my non-American friends, especially when most Americans don't even have a passport. But let me explain. Even if people won't leave the country, they do tend to leave their neighborhoods... and the state. What I have noticed is that people in England seem scared to leave the little enclave where they were born. Maybe scared is not the right word - it's just that they don't seem to see a need to go anywhere else. If they live in Town X, by God they are working in Town X. The thought of commuting to Town Y (even if its 40-50 min away) is just rather shocking. I know I'm going to get grief on this, but its just how it seems to me.
Space. Everything over here is like a miniature version of what I'm used to in America. There's this constant sense of being closed in. Its not like when I was in New York City or Tokyo - both cities have limited space and so everything is compact and pushed together. England is different. It just feels like I'm living in a Barbie Dream House country. The roads are like mini-roads. The stores are like mini-stores. It is so hard to put into words. I'll think more about this and find a better way to explain it...

Lost in Translation

2010-09-15T18:01:00.000+01:00

*OOOH JUST FOUND THIS!*

Saturday, 5th June 2010
18:15 local time (Tokyo)
Theme Song: "Turning Japanese" by the Vapors

Arrived Thursday morning about 8am to Fukuoka, Japan to attend the Japanese Society of Anesthesiology Congress. The flight from Singapore was fairly uneventful. As I lucked out to be in business class, I was able to sleep for about 4 of the 6 hours, though it was a fitful, turblency sleep. I kept waking up because I had drooled all over my pillow. I don't know what it is about me and planes, but every time I try to sleep on one, I drool nonstop.

Got off the plane to a bunch of uniformed Japanese people hollering "Ohayu gonzayimas!" at everyone who deboarded. Imagine a cacophony of voices in that unique Japanese way. It was crazy. I walked to Immigration, at which point there were two lines - Japanese Citizens and a big sign that said FOREIGNERS. Guess which line I had to go into? LOL I found Japanese immigration to be very friendly and efficient. What was really cool is that all the officers were in these full uniforms and some of the women in were in full Japanese traditional kimono dress.

English Summer

2010-08-15T20:42:00.000+01:00

Mood: Neutral
Theme Song: "Roger That" - Young Money (Lil' Wayne, Nicki Minaj, Tyga)

Let's see... what exciting things have happened to me this summer?

I miss windowscreens. English houses do not have them. Therefore, I now have flies in my house. Granted, not huge Biblical swarms of them or anything - but enough to be annoying. Enough to wonder why English people don't use &^$£! screens in their windows.

I actually like the weather over here (well at least this summer). It has only gotten up to about 30C - which is just under 90F. But there is no humidity! I don't know if it is because I live closer to the "sea" (aka English Channel), but my hair has not once gone full-force Afro Puffs on me, which has been a real blessing. There were only 2-3 nights where I really wished I had a fan, or air conditioning.

I studied for - and passed! - my driving theory test. I can't say that people over here are better drivers, but the test is certainly MUCH harder than I remember from the U.S. Of course the last test I took was way back in 1999 in Kentucky, but it didn't necessitate any kind of studying. I think I didn't study at all in fact. For this test, I bought a CD-Rom and basically went through every possible question that could be on the test, and learned the answer. I now know random, esoteric facts about the English Highway Code - which could come in handy if I am ever on some kind of weird English game show.

I am getting used to English grocery stores, and a different way of shopping. I no longer do a big massive shopping trip, spending way too much money on food I will inevitably waste. I go 2-3 times a week, as needed. This means I eat healthier and fresher. They also sell milk over here in tiny little pints - they look like miniature big milks. I love them!! :) Sample daily menu? Greek yoghurt with honey and blueberries for breakfast, either leftovers for lunch (or a can of soup/sandwich from the sandwich shop across the street), and then something fresh and healthy for dinner. Like scrambled eggs, smoked salmon and wheat toast. (yum!) Or roasted gammon, mashed potatoes and steamed asparagus. Or roasted turkey/chicken, bean cassoulet and steamed broccoli. I don't eat that way EVERY day as there are plenty of times when I come home and am too tired to make anything but a PB&J sandwich. But most of the time I'm eating healthy fresh food - and I feel so much better. On that note, I also haven't eaten very much junk food since moving here. The worst things I eat are the occasional crisps (Walker's Ready Salted! Cheese-n-Onion Pringles!) and chocolate bar (Galaxy is mmmmmmm). I don't really drink that much soda - but when I do, I drink regular Coke. It's still made with sugar over here and so I don't get the weird aspartame after-shakes I was getting in the U.S. And since its full-flavour, I also tend to drink much less. I can hardly finish an 8 oz can of it these days.

I am (gasp) beginning to understand the English ways of doing some things. Like, for example, why they have washer/dryers and not the full size machines we have in America. Not only are places much smaller here, but utilities are EXPENSIVE. So many of the "why do they do that?" moments are being explained as I am here longer. It really is a different way of living, existing, etc. I still don't understand the need for roundabouts (other than to piss me off) - well, okay from a traffic engineering standpoint, yes I do understand them. And they make some sense. I just don't like the one by my house because it is a free-for-all. No one uses their signals and they change lanes like they're being chased by the police.

I'm going to digress a bit to speak a bit about how weird it is to see America from outside the country. I have always known that my country is new and young, blahblahblah. But I don't think I have ever appreciated it - truly understood or appreciated that difference. Things are what I call "easier" in America because the country is newer. Its like the difference between a really old building and a new one. The new one is easier to navigate - cleaner, shinier, has more amenities. But it lacks the character and depth of the old one. That's the best way I know to describe it. Our roads are better - because they are newer. Our infrastructure works better (I think) because its newer. I'm not sure yet why our customer service is better - but it is. I never thought I'd say that, but since moving to England, I actually miss those sunny people at the DMV!!

Most of the news I read/see is from the UK or Europe - and its really interesting to see how differently stories are covered. I can go to BBC and the switch to CNN or even a local website from Ohio and Seattle - and the way things are presented are very different. I always feel like some of the big stories in the U.S. are viewed very tongue-and-cheek over here. Like "Awww, look, little America is upset again. How cute!"

And now I have my topic for my next blog entry.... :P

*Federman out.

Japan - pt. 2

2010-08-15T18:09:00.000+01:00

Mood: Undecided
Theme Music: "Big Empty"- Stone Temple Pilots

Now that I've started, its like a veritable fountain of words - all these things that I want to share about Japan! I could write for days and days, but a good writer knows her audience (and their attention spans ha!) so for the sake of brevity, I will bullet-point:

Everything is in Yen. And Yen are in ridiculous amounts. Like a bottle of water could be 130 Yen. My brain is already addled from trying to constantly convert from £ to $. I was then spending my time trying to convert from Y to $ then back to £ or the other away around. It really messed with me because I lost track of the value of things. It wasn't fair to compare to dollars, because I get paid in pounds. But it was easier for me to translate things into my head as dollars - as in "Is that T-shirt really worth 1,700 Yen - oops I mean $20?". I quickly figured out that 130 Yen = 1 GBP, which made doing quick calculations a bit easier.

The Japanese subway system is - like most I've encountered - amazing. What was not so amazing was that everything was in... yes, Japanese. I was going from Akasaka to Ginza and I needed to buy a round-trip ticket. All the signs were in Japanese. The place names were in English, but nothing else. I finally found a ticket machine with a very small "English" button to push on the screen. So I was able to buy my ticket. Of course, I did not get real English... or even British English. Nope, I got that special brand of our language known as "Engrish". I don't remember the exact phrasing, but had I not been so weirded out and stressed out (the subway tunnel was packed, people running everywhere, a constant background stream of spoken Japanese, a growing line of inpatient Japanese people behind me at the machine...), I would have taken a photo to preserve it for posterity. If you want to get an idea of what it was sort of like, visit http://engrish.com/

Japan is the place for my feet. Let me explain. I have very small, somewhat wide feet. These feet have, at various times, been referred to as "midget feet", "Flintstone feet" and "my 8 year old has bigger feet than you" (yeah Angela, I'm talking to YOU!). In the U.S., I wear a size 6. In Europe, this is a size 36. In the UK, for some reason I am now a 3.5 or 4. I don't remember what my size was in Japan - except that EVERY store I walked into had the most gorgeous shoes... in my size!!! And no one scoffed at my tiny feet. I was normal. It was fan-freaking-tastic. I can't wait to save up a bunch of money and then go back and go on a shoe extravaganza. Imelda Marcos has nothing on me when it comes to an unnatural love of footwear.

Uniqlo. Check it out here - http://www.uniqlo.co.uk/. I think its in the U.S. - but only in the major coastal cities (LA, New York). Amazing store - there were 5 floors, and each one had its own "personality". What was really entertaining is that I heard better music inside this store than I have during my whole time living in England. They played some excellent hip-hop and it was all totally uncensored. I guess when 90% of the population doesn't understand the words anyway, it really doesn't matter... but it was amusing to see little Japanese schoolgirls shopping for clothes and singing along to things like "Bitch, please". LOL.
I bought a dress of the most amazing material - like cotton/nylon/rayon... you can jump all over it and it doesn't wrinkle, but it holds it shape - and although it makes me look like I'm wearing a potato sack, I love it. I will never wear this dress in public, but I will rock it out hardcore at home. It's the perfect "I feel fat" dress. ;) Here's the link - not sure how long this link will work, though. http://www.uniqlo.co.uk/catalogue/women/dresses/421146-black-j-wide-strap-sleeveless-dress

Rock, paper, scissors. This is a huge game in Japan. When you play, you say "Jan-ken-pon!" and then depending on who wins, there's a second part of the game. I have stolen this description (see below) from Wikipedia because they explain it better than I could. But it was tons of fun to play - we played it everywhere - on the fast train, on the subway, at lunch... my Japanese colleagues were much amused by my love of this game.

In some versions of the game, a second round of play is used. After one player has won the paper/scissors/stone game, another count of three is conducted with the phrase "acchi muite hoi!" (あっち向いてホイ！, "acchi muite hoi!"?) ("hey, look [turn] over there!"). On "hoi!", the player who won previously points in one of four directions (up, down, left, or right), and the player who lost previously tilts their head to look in one of those directions. If both directions are the same, the game is over, and the player pointing is declared the final winner; if the directions are not the same, the game reverts back to the original "jan ken pon" and the original winner's win is canceled.

Fast trains. The train system in Japan is very well organized. Granted we had to go through a labyrinthine ticketing process that I don't think I would have fully understood if Taka hadn't been there to help us (actual sign on the platform below). We took the fast train from Tokyo to Osaka, and both myself and my work colleague (British) were amazed at how clean the trains were. There were actual cleaning ladies (in the cutest uniforms) who went on between runs to clean the trains. They were so fast that we took to each picking one and then betting on who would finish first. (Yeah, what can I say, I'm easily amused). The ticket collector was also extremely well dressed. In fact, that's something I noticed - service personnel (waiters, ticket collectors, taxi drivers, even people cleaning up the trash on the sidewalks) were all impeccably attired and seemed to take real pride in both their appearance and their work.

I'm sure there are other things that will occur to me as time goes on. I have tons of photos on my FB page... including my favorite which is one of a BIG BOY. And yes, we ate there! (It was *nothing* like a U.S. Big Boy!)

I definitely look forward to going back to Japan as soon as I can, hopefully for fun the next time.There are so many things that I want to see that I didn't get a chance to - like the Buddhist Temples, and the rice fields and just normal Japanese countryside life. And of course, shoe stores a-plenty ;)

Japan (better late than never!)

2010-08-15T17:13:00.000+01:00

Mood: Tired
Theme Song: "Little Razorblade" - Pink Spiders

Well, friends and neighbors - last time I wrote, I promised to dish all about Japan. And then I got busy and forgot all about it. (*typical*) It's been awhile, but I'll do my best to share my recollections.

I really enjoyed my trip there and, like most of my travels, I highly recommend it. Not just because Japan is *cool* but also because I think everyone needs to push out of their comfort zone at least once in their lives. Traveling to Asia - Singapore and Japan - was one of those "push" moments for me, and I will always be grateful for the experience.

I flew from Singapore to Fukuoka, which is is the capital city of Fukuoka Prefecture and is situated on the northern shore of the island of Kyūshū. You can read more about Fukuoka here - http://www.japan-guide.com/e/e2161.html. I attended the annual meeting of Japanese Society of Anesthesiologists which was held on the island. I took an overnight flight from Singapore - it was either that or lose a day hanging around in Tokyo Airport - and so when I arrived, I was both jet-lagged and disoriented. My co-worker met me at the airport. What is funny is that I had protested that it was unnecessary and that I am perfectly capable of finding my way around. I mean I've done it in other foreign countries where I don't speak the language - Italy, Germany, Cyprus. However, I was unprepared for the complete and utter *foreignness* of Japan. I really wish I had been more diligent with this blog, and had captured my impressions right away because its difficult now to try to articulate the way I felt.

I stepped off the plane, and of course everything was in Japanese. That didn't throw me so much as that fact that nothing was in English. And also that, stupidly, it just hit me that I cannot read Japanese! In Europe, everything is in the Roman alphabet, so even if I don't know the language, I can sound it out and make an educated guess. You could even drop me in to Russia and because I can sound out Cyrillic letters, I can usually figure out (sort of) what is going on. Even Turkish doesn't scare me! But it was so strange to see signs, and know they were telling me something, and not even be able to make heads or tails of it. It was also odd not to see English paired up with everything. Oh, there were a few English signs or icons, but nothing compared to what I am used to. I think, in all my years of travel, that was the first moment when I truly felt like a "foreigner".

So it ended up being a very good thing that my co-worker, Taka, met me at the airport. I had read that most people in Japan do not speak English, but I wasn't sure if I fully believed that. It's true (or at least that's what I experienced). We went to my hotel, where Taka was able to get me checked in and before he left he wrote down directions to the convention center on a piece of paper, so all I had to do was get in the cab and hand over the piece of paper. I went to my room which was very small, even by European standards. (I later found out that they had put me at the "fancy" hotel). I realised I needed an iron - and so I quickly logged on to find out how to say "I need an iron and ironing board please" in Japanese. If you're curious, its - 私はボード、してください。アイロンとアイロン台を必要があります。(How you pronounce that is beyond me!) All I could figure out is that "ironing board" = "Airon dai". So I called down front and asked for "Airon dai tetsu okudasai" (basically "I would like iron ironing board please"). I had to repeat myself several times. About 20 minutes later there was a knock at my door - and a very nice woman showed up with.... an ironing board. No iron. It took a great deal of pantomime to explain that I also needed the iron. I felt so incompetent!!!

What was also really funny was in the room there was this sign -

Yes, I'm confirming all kinds of cultural stereotypes here - but come on - its funny, right? ;)

So I managed to get a few hours of sleep and then off to the convention center for the afternoon. I was so proud that I was able to use my few bits of Japanese with the taxi driver. Did you know they all wear white gloves, and the insides of the taxi are immaculate?

You haven't lived until you've been in a Japanese taxi, listening to Japanese radio! Something else I learned was that at Japanese conventions, when its the end of the day, the music they play to shut everything down is "Auld Lang Syne". Of course, they don't call it that - nor do most of them know that we associate it with the New Year. It's just, as I was told "store closing song".

That night, they took me to dinner at a fantastic sushi restaurant in town. It was true Japanese style - shoes off, sitting down under the table, everything. I loved it. I let them order for me, and I ate everything put in front of me. My promise with myself on this trip was that I would try everything, and not let my normal "ewwww" factor affect my decisions. I am so glad I did that - it has forever changed the way I will approach new foods and cultures.

The following day I flew to Tokyo. Again, I had an escort (chaperone?). And again, my natural independence rebelled against this. I have flown over 150,000 air miles by myself! And yet... the Fukuoka airport was mind-bogglingly confusing. EVERYTHING was in Japanese. Japanese people running everywhere. I'm sure I could have navigated it eventually, but it would have definitely been a challenge. By the time we got on the plane, I was so glad to have Miho with me. At one point, while we were waiting at the gate (where all the announcements were in Japanese only - probably because I was on an internal flight), she went to the store and left me sitting by myself. I spent the 10 minutes or so just looking around, people-watching. And yet I felt so out of place. Little kids were staring at me like I was some sort of oddity on display. (Well, to be fair people stare at me like that lots of times so maybe it wasn't being in Japan that did it... LOL)

We arrived in Tokyo where Miho helped me hail a taxi and off I went to the hotel. I stayed in the Akasaka Region of Tokyo - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Akasaka,_Tokyo, at the Akasaka Grand Prince Hotel - http://www.princehotels.com/en/akasaka/. That night I had an AMAZING sushi dinner in the hotel - and I was so proud of myself because I ordered everything in Japanese. (I carried around a piece of paper with all kinds of relevant Japanese phrases written out how they sound to me (i.e. Toire-wa desku? means "Where is the toilet")). From all my extensive sushi bar experience in Seattle, I know the names of the fish and dishes I like, so that part was easy. What was fun was learning about sake. I am now a convert - love the stuff! I haven't tried it hot, but I fully intend to!

Singapore Adventures, part 2

2010-06-05T10:15:00.000+01:00

Sweet baby jesus I don't even know what day it is. I think its 5th June 2010.
Theme song: "Turning Japanese" by The Vapors

Sign in the cafeteria of one of the hospitals I visited in Singapore. I was tickled by it.

So, I think I left off talking about Singapore. That really was an interesting experience. It was like being in any other big American city - but with Asian people EVERYWHERE. It was like constant Chinatown. My brain is a bit fried so instead of trying to write some gorgeous narrative, I'm going to share my observations free-form:

Squat toilets. All I can say is WTF!!! I know that its a cultural thing, but why would you choose to squat over a hole when there is the option to sit down? I can see if you're off in the jungle somewhere with no choice, but seriously! I guess the benefit is that you get really strong thigh and lady part muscles. Though I still think I'd trade that for sitting down...
The food in Singapore is amazing. I love, love love Chicken rice!!!
The hospitals were surprisingly (or at least a surprise to me) modern. Even the oldest hospital (which they called "colonial style" and which looked more like a resort with whitewashed buildings) was clean, organized and had fairly modern technology. Apparently, Singaporeans pay into a health savings account that can be used at any of the major hospitals. There are also private hospitals which the wealthy can use. I visited one of them and it was VERY nice. They just redid part of the ICU and it looked like a luxury hotel - lots of dark wood, minimalist stylings, latest technology.
I asked about what poor people do and I got several blank looks. There really isn't anything such as "the dole" or "welfare" in Singapore. They have this revolutionary concept - you want to eat? you want a place to live? you want clothes? Yeah? Well then you work. Period. I think the government will provide very short-term assistance in the case of a drastic situation, but on the whole, nearly everyone works. If only we could export this idea to Western society, as I am SO SICK of my tax dollars (and pounds) going to support lazy, ignorant human beings.
Cars in Singapore are super expensive. An average car would cost the equivalent of about $35-45K. Thats not a fancy car, thats a small average car. And I figured out that petrol costs the equivalent of $6.50/American gallon. When I told them that if they had American prices for fuel, they woudl be paying $0.85 (Singapore Dollar) versus $2.85, eyes nearly popped out of their head. Yes my American friends I know you groan when gas hits $3 or $4/gallon but you are truly SPOILED. If you had to pay what the rest of the world paid, you would seriously be hurting.
Sadly, I saw both KFC and McDonald's in several food courts. Worst part was that both were full of locals. :(
I went to a local shop - Tang's Department Store - to try on some local clothing and I swear I felt like the Jolly Green Fat Giant. I'm a 10 in US sizes and an 10/12 in UK sizes. I couldn't even get my butt into an XL or 16 in Singapore. It didn't help that the woman runinng the dressing room felt the need to yell at me every three minutes in Cantonese for some reason. English is the national language of Singapore but someone apparently forgot to tell her.
I didn't watch TV at all while there, but when waiting for one of the doctors at the hospital, a TV was on and there was some truly bizarre variety show playing. I don't even know how to describe except to say WEIRD.

All in all, I liked Singapore very much. I found the people to be extremely kind and welcoming and the food to be amazing. So amazing in fact that I need to walk off the 2kg I gained while there! It was hot as Hades, and so if I lived there I would probably adopt the bald and naked look, which would most likely have me getting permanently caned. But other than that... LOL

Singapore Adventures

2010-06-02T16:57:00.000+01:00

2 June 2010
11:00 pm Singapore Time
Location: Chiangi Airport, awaiting flight to Fukuoka, Japan
Theme Song: Weird Asian flute music that is playing on the Singapore Airlines lounge soundsystem (basically sounds like they are trying to get a snake out of the basket by threatening it with the most disjointed combination of notes humanly possible)

Yes, yes I know it has been ages since I've updated this blog and I'm very sorry to my many fans for making you wait so long. At least you have had "Glee" to keep you company and provide much-needed comic relief.

I arrived in Singapore on Sunday, the 31st after a lovely long 13 hour flight. I lucked out by purchasing my ticket two months in advance which means I got a deeply discounted business-class ticket (only a few hundred quid more than coach). Let me just say that there is absolutely no good reason for anyone to fly that kind of distance in coach. Yes, I'd even go far as to say that it is inhumane. Ok, that is a stretch, especially compared to all the horrible things going on in the world, but I think being smooshed between two (usually) smelly people with about enough room for a hermit ranks up there with waterboarding and electroshock therapy. Sitting in business class ("Club World" in British Airways lingo) was divine. I was on the upper deck - which was the top level on those cool double decker planes - and it was so nice and dark and QUIET. The seats turn into a lie-flat bed and so I was able to curl up and sleep and drool to my heart's content. I think I was able to get about 8 hours of sleep during the flight (in three bits as I kept waking up to go to the bathroom or turn over or due to turbulence). While I am still horribly jet-lagged, I have to say I felt nearly human when we landed. The last time I flew any sort of long distance - 10 hours from LAX to London-Heathrow - I got off the plane and I felt like I had just been beaten up by an American gladiator weilding one of those big foam wand things. Also, as I've experienced before, the air crew tend to treat you like an actual human being when you're seated in business or first class. They are nice, accomodating and hardly ever bust out the stink eye. Oh, and there are snacks a-plenty. (Although since it was BA, 90% of said snacks featured butter, mayonnaise or some bizarre nasty food combination - i.e. tuna sweetcorn salad - thus rendering them inedible, but it its the thought that counts, right?)

My colleague picked me up at Chiangi Airport once I landed on Sunday. I was so not prepared for the all-encompassing muggy, hot and humid air. Think of Cincinnati, late August, no air conditioning. My hair immediately revereted back into full 1990's style afro-puffs. (For those of you who still have a WHHS yearbook, kindly refer to my 8th grade picture. Yeah, that kind of hair) I was immediately thanking my lucky stars that I had packed skirts and dresses, and not just my normal suits (which tend to be heavier). I have spent the past three days basically in a constant pool of sweat and stickiness, fighting chubb rub (yep I had to buy blister stick to put on my thighs and no, I ain't proud), developing heat rash and breaking out like I was 13 again. Interestingly enough, I have also drank more hot tea than I think I have in my entire time in England so far. (weird) The scary part is that my colleague told me that I brought the "good" weather with me. Sweet baby Jesus, I'd hate to see a bad few days. I'd probably melt, and all that would be left is a pale white blob of goo with what looks like a Brillo pad on top.

In addition to sweating like a sinner at the Pearly Gates, I've also managed to gain about 2kg thanks to the constant stream of food shoved my way. My colleagues were adamant that I experience true Singaporean cuisine and while it was an awesome experience, I literally felt like I was stuck in a game of Hungry Hungry Hippo and I was the broken hippo where the mouth never shut. Restaurants here have what is called "set" meals - basically multi-course extravaganzas where the food never seems to stop coming. While here, I experienced a Dim Sum set meal (Karen and Nikki - it was NOTHING like the scary dim sum in Seattle, thank goodness), a traditional spicy crab set meal (I think there were 7-8 dishes), a traditional "chicken rice" set meal (only 4-5 dishes to this one), a traditional Singaporean-Chinese set meal (again, 5-6 dishes) and a Singaporean-Italian set meal (thank goodness, only 3 courses). Despite the fact that I didn't really eat much breakfast (usually fruit and toast from the Marriott Concierge lounge), I found myself Thanksgiving-style stuffed by 2pm every day. And I didn't eat that much of each dish!

Cool things I noticed in Singapore:

1. All cars are equipped with this cool card reader machine (it looks like a small credit card machine - or a Pin and chip machine for you Brits - mounted to the inside of the windshield) that has what is essentially like a reloadable cash card in it. It is used for parking. There is some kind of chip or infrared or weird ninja technology so that when you exit a parking lot, it reads your card and immediately deducts the amount due. So all you do is just push a button for a receipt. Therefore, there are NO lines exiting parking lots. Its really a great system, albeit a bit Big Brother-ish

2. They abide by the lovely British right-hand drive system. BUT they have all but eliminated roundabouts, due to continued confusion and accidents. Smart, smart people these Singaporeans.

3. The taxis have lighted signs on top that say "Empty" or "Hired". No more guessing whether the light means Empty (US) or Occupied (UK) - or maybe that's the other way around? Either way, no more guessing. If you can read, you know what the deal is.

4. No litter.
5. No graffiti.
6. No horn honking.
7. No roaming bands of "youfs"

Which brings me to...

8. Caning! While its not necessarily something "cool", I have to say it appears to work. At press time, I have already compiled a list of people I personally know who could do with an introduction to Mr. Cane. If you're reading this blog, you - or someone you know - is probably on said list, since I adopted the "better safe than sorry" policy when compiling it. ;)

9. Excellent mixture of modernity and greenspace. A great example is Orchard Road, where I stayed. While there are TONS of shopping malls in Singapore, Orchard Road has a very very large concentration of them. The entire street is one big sensory overload, with store after store, and multi-level shopping malls and deaprtment stores on either side of the street. I'm not joking when I say that it would probably take me over a week to properly go in and out of each store - not to shop in the store, but to go in and look around. Anyway, there are all these huge modern buildings interspersed with beautiful trees and foliage. The medians had grogeous trees, and at nighttime, birds return to the trees and so there is this overwhelming sound of chirping. If you close your eyes, it sounds like you're in a nature preserve. But you open them only to see a huge TV billboard on the side of building in Chinese. Crazy!

10. High-tech stuff everywhere. My hotel room had this little console by the bed with buttons saying "Bed 1", "Bed 2", "Desk", "Bathroom" etc and I pushed the button to control all the lights. What was really cool is there were also buttons for "Do Not Disturb" and "Make Up Room". (It took me about 10 minutes to stop looking for the "make-up room" - I was thinking it was like a vanity room or something - and realise that the button meant for housekeeping to come clean the room. Yeah, I'm a 'tard, I know.

Ok, so there's lots more to dish on but I have to run as my flight to Fukuoka is boarding soon. Apparently security is at the gate here so I need to hustle.

Cheerio!
Your friendly Angmo (the Singaporean word for "whitey"...will explain later)

Cyprus

2010-03-25T19:03:00.000Z

Mood: AntsyTheme Song: "Guilty Until Proven Innocent" - Jay Z and R. Kelly (hit Shuffle on my iPod, this is what I got!)

Wanted to take some time to talk about Cyprus, which was beautiful. Unfortunately I had some sort of British dysentery the whole time, so I spent a great deal of time in the resort's lovely well-appointed ladies rooms. :( We flew into Pahpos airport, which is on the south coast. Apparently there is another airport on the other side of the island too. On the drive from the airport to the resort, I noticed that Cyprus - at least to my eyes - reminds me alot of a combination between Northern California (the lush hills combined with rocky mountain) and Hawaii (smell of ocean, beachfront). It was an interesting juxtaposition.

The resort itself was really beautiful. (see photo above) Although they must have been running a Centrum Silver special because there were old people EVERYWHERE. And it wasn't even that warm out. Nothing like starting one's day by walking past really old people in really small bathing suits. Looked like chicken livers and chicken skin everywhere! (This confirms my desire to have my consciousness transferred into a robot body as soon as said technology becomes available. I'm fairly confident this will happen in my lifetime). Another thing that was interesting is that there were stray cats all over the place - I think I counted four at one time. They weren't feral or mean, just little cute kitties all over the resort. I guess Cyprus has a cat problem or something. It doesn't help probably that tourists (read: me) like to feed them. But they're sooo cute. I was disappointed they didn't meow in Greek though. I wanted the kitty to open its mouth and say "νιάου νιάου".

The first full day we were in training, we had what the resort calls a Full Mezze lunch. Which consisted of 2.5 hours of people continuously bringing food. Now, this would be a dream situation for my little brother, as well as several other males in my life. But for us, given we were on a work schedule, it was like a food nightmare. First there was the greek salad (yum, minus the olives). Then came some seafood. And more seafood. And then some more seafood. Then came some chicken. And lamb. And then some more seafood. And then some meat. And then side dishes. We had to call a time-out to stop the dessert procession. The poor resort employees really did look offended that we didn't want more food. And poor me, sitting there with dysentery, I couldn't really take advantage of anything on offer. And I love mediterranean food!

The other big adventure was the night we all went out for a group dinner. So it was me (American), a Brit, a Welshman, three Israelis, two Lebanese, and a Maltesean. And we go to this Cyprian restaurant. It smelled heavenly walking in and I was actually really hungry. I was feeling a bit better and so I ordered the greek salad to start. Which came out HUGE. Like Cheesecake Factory-size huge. After a few pieces of bread and that salad, I was ready for bed. But I soldiered onward and decided to try what was described as a local version of beef stew. It was a bit chilly outside and I thought Oooh comfort food. Yeah, not such a good idea. It was horrible! I spent the rest of the evening cracking up laughing and trying to figure out how to hide the food so the waiter wouldn't see that I wasn't eating it. The waiter had really given me a hard time for not finishing my salad, convinced something was wrong with it. And I had the whole "picky American" stereotype to deal with as well, and so me thinking the main dish was uh-scusting was not helping. It tasted like beef...covered in cinnamon and some other weird spice and then sauteed in tomato sauce for like 54 years. I am sure someone finds that combination lovely - but it wasn't me!!

All this talk of food has made me hungry, so I'm off to grab a late lunch. More later!

Federman out!

Drivin' Me Crazy

2010-03-17T16:35:00.000Z

Mood: Hungry
Theme Song: "Drivin Me Wild" - Common feat Lily Allen

Before I launch into my Cyprian adventure, I have GOT to talk about my left-hand manual transmission adventures!!! So I got my new work car about a week or so ago. We had two choices - an Audi A3 TDI something or other, or an Audi A4 sedan something-or-other. Since we get taxed on the value of the car, I chose the A3. The tax is also based on on the emissions of the vehicle, and the A3 had the lowest of that too. I picked black becasue I've always wanted a black car. So the nice little man comes from Audi to drop off the car. The car itself is lovely - new, shiny, clean... and freaking backwards! I had an Audi in the U.S. and so I'm familiar with where everything is and how they lay things out on the dashboard, etc. What I'm not cool with is the gear shift on the left. Its sooo weird.
So after signing all the paperwork, I had to immediately go to the Canterbury City Council office to get my new parking permit. I park in a lot next to my flat and my pass is tied to the registration of my vehicle (my license plate number). I had no choice but to go get a new one, or get ticketed. And the only way I could get there was to drive my new car. I was having flashbacks to the first time I drove a manual transmission in the U.S. (I bought a car and had to drive it home, simple as that. Now THAT was an entertaining ride)

So I pulled out my lot...and immediately stalled. I got it going again and managed to get to the first roundabout before I stalled out again. Take it from me, British people get pretty pissy when you stall out in a roundy-roundy. So I got the car going again, and then hit the problem of third gear. I don't know why, but third gear always gives me issues - no matter what car I drive. I kept getting into all kinds of other gears - 4th, 5th, 2nd - it was a big old mess. By the time I stalled out in the second roundy-roundy, I was about to get out and drop kick the damn car. I was so upset, crying and cursing. Mostly I was mad at myself for not being able to drive a car at 33 years old. I finally managed to get to the council office, and the smell of burning engine/rubber/whatever was tremendous.

I went into the council office and signed in (its England, of course there's a queue!). Only to be chatted up by a guy who informed me that he was waiting for both Housing and Income Benefits. So basically this guy is hitting on me and he has neither a job nor a place to live. And he was tricked out in sweatpants, a Sean Jean t-shirt and Crocs. I'm not making this up. He then asked me if he could ring me sometime, could he have my phone number. I was so off my normal game that the best I could muster was that he could give me his number and maybe I'd call. To which he replied that he didn't exactly have a phone. I couldn't help myself, I had to ask how exactly he planned on phoning me then? Oh, he says, I would just go 'round my mates. His phone should be turned back on again soon. Thankfully at that point they called my number and I got to escape. But not before I got a gap-toothed leer from my new little friend.

After that, I was able to calm down sufficiently to be able to drive to my next destination - which, luckily, was a friend's house. Since then I've managed to drive around with minimal incidents - I think I've only stalled out twice since then. My biggest problem is downshifting. My left hand isn't used to the motions yet and I think I err to far one way or the other and end up in all kinds of weird gears. Hopefully the little German car can handle my nonsense for a few more weeks until I get used to this left-hand business. I also apparently need to learn to drive closer to the center line - I guess I'm overcompensating out of fear and driving way too close to the left curb. I haven't hit anything yet, but I've scared the beejeezus out of people in the car with me. I tried to explain that I'm not a bad driver, I'm just freaked out by cars coming at me when I'm sitting in what should be the damn passenger seat!! But I have faith in myself - I think it will all be okay. I need to get my UK driver's license sometime this year and I want to do it before we hit the artic conditions again... so probably September/October time frame. I see some UK driving lessons in my near future...

Oh! And before I forget, even the damn British people treat the roundy-roundy's like a free for all. I learned the rules and I try to follow them but just like in the States, there are idiots who just take up whatever lane and go wherever they want. Which is not cool - especially when you're going in a circle, shifting left-handed and not always sure where you're going. I soooo want to plant a huge American flag on top of my car - I bet they would back off then!!

I did learn about things called bollards.(took me awhile to figure out how it was spelled because of the accent over here). What is a bollard? Check it out here - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bollard. They are in the middle of roads...well, I'm not sure exactly why, but I think its to show you what side of the road to be on or something. It looks like even the Brits need reminding.

I have a new favorite game. I call someone British and they say "No, I'm English/Scottish/Irish" and I say "Same difference" and watch them get angry. :P Yep that's me, making friends all over the world!

Federman out.

Bits n Bobs from Brussels

2010-03-17T16:07:00.000Z

Mood: Positive
Theme Song: "You Got Me" by The Roots feat Erkyah Badu (just because its what's on my iPod right now)

Greetings! I know its been ridiculously long since I've posted anything new and all I can say is sorry, sorry, sorry! The past few weeks have been a whirlwind and every time I sat down to try to write something, I either ran out of internet time or found myself with a horrendous case of writer's block.

So last week I was in lovely Brussels, which I really liked. Especially when I found out that although many people do speak Dutch, French is the main language of the city. I just love using my French, and it actually came in handy in a few cases where we needed to clarify food orders/directions, etc. I really liked the city - it was neat mix of old and new and reminded me of a mini-Paris in many ways. There are lots of little squares and it wasn't hard to imagine people of hundreds of years ago gathering there on a warm sunny day. There were cobblestones everywhere, and while they were MURDER to walk on, I couldn't help but imagine myself strolling along in a long dress, complete with corset, parasol and mustachio'ed gentleman on my arm.

One of the lessons I'm learning is that food service outside the U.S. is a relative term. The concept of greeting a table within 2 minutes to take their drink order is laughable over here. If you're going to a restaurant, be prepared to wait. And wait. And wait. I can't figure out if its bad service or if its just a different understanding/appreciation for time. Or a combination of both. My American-ness has me getting antsy if I've been sitting at a table longer than a few minutes and no one has come over to introduce themselves and mumble a list of specials at me. On that note, people at work make terrible fun of how American waiters and waitresses insist on introducing themselves - like they're on a date or job interview. As one of my coworkers said, "I don't care what your name is! I just want my bloody food!" LOL

After a few days in Brussels I never wanted to see another french fry, ham and cheese sandwich or omelette. I mean I love all of those things, but in moderation. I was so thankful when two Belgian women working our booth were kind enough to take me to an out-of-the-way local cafe for some real food. I had a wonderful leafy green salad with parma ham and parmesan shavings and ripe red tomatoes and I was in foodie heaven. It was so good that I took two of my co-workers there on Friday for our end-of-show celebratory lunch and I had a lovely strip steak that melted in my mouth. Best meat I've had in Europe so far.

I have to congratulate myself because I only ate three pieces of chocolate while in Brussels - and there are chocolatiers everywhere. Our hotel was literally next door to a place called "Chocopolis". Six months ago, between the chocolate and frites, I would have been like Hungry Hungry Hippo all over town, but I'm trying to behave myself. Those three pieces were divine, though. Yummy, yummy, yummy!

So I guess when I look back on Brussels, the following come to mind:

Cobblestone streets - beautiful to look at, evil to walk on (even in flats)
Chocolate, chocolate, chocolate
Waffles and frites
Beautiful architecture - the Grand Place is stunning. Reminded me of the Louvre in its absolute beauty and scope. So hard to imagine people taking the time to design and build things like this - without computers or any real sense of what the finished product would look like... and often without any guarantee that they would even live to see its completion! That's something I don't miss about America - our lack of stunning historical architecture
French, french, french - I got to speak French! :)
Pink Elephant Beer - at something like 8% it is deadly. Definitely made me stupid.
A Real DJ! We all went out one night and thank heavens for the lovely DJ who played actual, real contemporary music. No theme from Baywatch. No 80s revival. No weird Brit pop. I was a happy, happy girl

Finally, the last thing I think of is that I definitely want to go back. It was about a 1.5h train ride from Ashford - so easy! I can definitely see myself going back for a mini-break (weekend away). :)

P.S. Other Exciting News

2010-03-04T23:35:00.002Z

I get my real work car tomorrow. Bye, bye little French car with the oh-so-easy automatic transmission. Hello, brand-new German car with the left-hand manual transmission. Just when I've almost got the hang of driving on the other side of the road, roundabouts and reading the damn road while I drive... I now have to get used to shifting with the wrong hand! *headdesk*

Also, in the other exciting news category, one of my new British friends has solved the Egyptian mystery of my heating timer. After I received an £80 gas bill (roughly $120 for one month), I had a bit of a Come To Jesus phone call with British Gas. I actually got a human being with a brain who was nice enough to suggest that my bill was so high because even though I had my thermostat turned down during the day, I had my heat set on "Constant". I didn't even bother explaining that in America your heat is either on, or its off. We do not have a system where there are 87 million buttons to push and dials to turn and whanot. Even old American thermostats just have a little lever (on, off, auto) and a dial (with real Fahrenheit temperatures!!)

Somehow my friend was able to use his Y chromosome powers for good versus evil and decipher the hieroglyphics enough in order to set the blasted thing up properly. I was was doing the Shamon! happy dance all over my house last night when I came home and then listened to the boiler do its turning on gurgly-gurgle precisely at 19 o'clock like it was supposed to. Happy, happy, joy, joy! I can now afford to eat again as I won't be spending all my £££ on UK utility bills!

Speaking of o'clocks, I just love saying things like, "Let's schedule that meeting at 15 o'clock". I have pointed out many times how weird it is that UK is on military time - only to be corrected and told that its not "military time" - its just 24hour clock time. Toma-to, To-mah-to. Thanks to the movie STRIPES, it will always be military time to me, and accompanied in my head by the "Doo-wah-ditty-ditty-dum-ditty-do" song. What's really cool is when it turns midnight and my microwave, oven and alarm clock all say that its 00:00 o'clock. It's zero o'clock! It's none o'clock! *Sigh* Yes, I do happen to be very easily amused, thank you.

Federman out - for reals this time.

Back in the 21st Century Again - Have You Missed Me??

2010-03-04T23:11:00.000Z

Mood: Excited, Hungry
Listening To: "Ching Ching" - Ms. Jade feat Nelly Furtado

Dear Lord baby Jesus, lyin' there in your ghost manger, just lookin' at your Baby Einstein developmental videos, learnin' 'bout shapes and colors. I would like to thank you for the wankers at SKY finally sending me the router and hooking up my interwebs. Amen.

Wow, after not having an internet connection in SO LONG, I am not even sure where to begin. It's officially been exactly 2 months since I made the big move - but it feels like so much longer! England doesn't feel like "home" yet, but I have come a long way since my days of hanging out in an Ashford hotel room eating chili con carne every night (because it was edible, low calorie and did not have mayonnaise on it). I am really glad that I chose Canterbury as my new 'hood (big ups to Joe and Marianne for the recommendation!) - the town is just the perfect size. I've spent several weekends wandering around, exploring, and I've still yet to scratch the surface of all the shops, side streets, nooks and crannies. It seems like I'm always noticing something new, which is awesome. Because, after living out of hotels on two continents for three months, I am thrilled to have a break from the monotony.

Side note: I get made fun of all the time for saying things like "awesome". I'm not sure why the Brits find this to be so amusing but they do. Other things I've been made fun for are (in no particular order of importance) - "Have a nice day!", being overly enthusiastic about everything (yes, this is an Erin trait, but it also apparently is an American trait too), "missing you already" (I don't say this, but I know people who do). Today at lunch I was asked why Americans feel the need to say "vahhhzz" instead of "vase" (with a long "a"). I pointed out that its usually only really pretentious Americans who say things like that. I was next attacked becasue we pronounce the word "route" like "rowt". As opposed to the British way - "root". I tried to explain that the way they were saying it meant digging, or that the plumber was coming (RotoRooter!) - but it didn't really help. We then got into a side discussion of what happened to all the extra "u"s in American English (i.e. Brits say "favour"; we say "favor", etc). No one had a really good explanation, and I still prefer Jasper Fforde's reasoning. For those of you who aren't Thursday Next fans (shame on you!), the theory is that due to black market dealings and other factors, there was a letter shortage in the Text Sea (you have to read the books to understand) - so a decision was made to conserve letters by taking them away from places like America and Canada where "no one would notice anyway".

At least once a week since I've been here, I've had it pointed out to me that Americans suffer from a superiority complex. I argued this at first, but I'm coming around to the British point of view. For example, I think nothing of saying - as a joke - "well that's because I am the coolest person in the world!" or something similar. In America, people would know I'm exaggerating and making a joke. Over here, I run the risk of being perceived as arrogant, as the Brits (as a whole) tend to be reserved, understated and not prone to tooting their own horns.

I have been asked a few times why Americans think they are so much better than the rest of the world. My instinctive response? "Because we are". LOL - thus proving the point! Questions like that that seriously make me think, though. As Americans we are raised to believe that we are in the "greatest country on the earth", and that America leads the world in pretty much everything (exceptions being vodka consumption and stoicism (Russia), swarthiness (Latin America) and understated disdain (France)). I have pointed out that this is called patriotism and pride. Ye Olde British people have most assuredly disagreed - they see it as being arrogant, xenophobic and cocky. I am really struggling with this one because it is so a part of my nature. Like if someone at work compliments me on a project, I think nothing of responding "It's a hard job being so perfect, but someone's got to do it!". I'm totally kidding, but it doesn't always come across that way.

I can see things from others perspectives - the USA does indeed throw its weight around alot, and as the world's largest superpower, drives a great deal of world policy. But, its as I told a friend the other night, I think its just like Spiderman. "With great power comes great responsibility". That's why America ends up involved in all kinds of things outside our own borders, whether we really want to or not. I also think that non-Americans forget that when the USA does abstain from getting involved in any sort of fracas, then we are criticised for being uncaring, selfish and not being good global citizens. It's kind of a no-win situation in a way.

Moving on to more entertaining topics...
Going out at night here is unbelievably entertaining. I am not going to touch the music or atmosphere right now - just the clothing choices. In Ireland, I noticed that the girls all wore fancy dress out (basically something we Americans would wear to a cocktail dinner, nice date, etc). I rarely saw jeans or anything super casual. Here in the jolly old, things are a bit more... extreme. I don't know who started it or why, but the current fashion seems to be to dress like the skankiest prostitute you've ever seen. And I'm not kidding. A sample outfit I've seen alot is a really short dress (I'm talking barely cover your bum short), knee highs, black patent leather stripper shoes (4-6" heels, platform bottoms). No coat, and the dress is often strapless or sleeveless. Another big look is those leggings that look like liquid vinyl - paired with a bustier top and the stripper shoes. I think of everything, its the damn shoes that get to me. This is England, land of not so great roads. Where I live, the roads definitely have a cobblestone-y feel. Walking on them in flat shoes is okay, but add any kind of heel and it gets a bit tricky. I have no idea how these girls navigate them in those shoes, and when drunk. That's the other thing. People over here drink. They do not mess around. It's like they are afraid that by next weekend all the alcohol will be gone or something. I do believe this is a major factor as to why people think its a good idea to stand in the middle of my street at 2am and start singing.

I'm tired, and I still haven't eaten anything for dinner (and its 23 o'clock here!), so I'm going to sign off. But rest assured, the wit and wisdom of E-Dawg are back! You can look forward to regular amusing updates, especially since the next three weeks will take me to Brussels, Cyprus and lovely Tijuana!

Cheers all.
Federman out.

England Made Me Cry... Again

2010-02-25T17:11:00.000Z

Mood: Beaten down, worn down
Theme Song: "Nothing is Good Enough" - Aimee Mann

Before I spend the next bit complaining and moaning about all things English, I have to start with the good news - and that is that my broadband should be ready to go as of 4th March. Now, I probably won't be home to receive the router, and thus will ahve to chase it all around town at the UK post offices, BUT the good news is that its coming. Of course, its just in time for me to be gone for 3 straight weeks for work.

Now, on to why England made me cry, again. My company does this weird thing with Occupational Health to cerify that you are fit for employment or something. And since I don't have a GP yet (they are only open when I'm at work), I got a letter saying I had to go to this doctor's appointment and be examined by a UK doctor. Now, there are three things about this that piss me off:
1) I gave them all my information so they could contact my US doctor on January 6th
2) The appointment is in freaking Chislehurst - which is about 1h15m drive away (so I'm looking at about 3 hours in the car)
3) No one at the doctor's office could tell me exactly why I needed to be examined. Each person I spoke to said they hadn't read my file, it wasn't their job, so sorry.

So tomorrow I get to drive to Chislehurst for my doctor's appointment that I have no idea why I'm having. GRRRRRR. I don't know what it was about this situation, but I literally broke down in tears at my desk. I think its a combination of several things - I'm a bit homesick, my workload is insane, it hasn't stopped raining in days and I'm just generally in a bit of a funk.

Ok, enough griping and complaining. Some funny, positive things -

I have tried a Scotch Egg. My recommendation? DON'T. I guess they are considered a delicacy here, but it... was... nasty. What is a scotch egg you ask? Well, its not an egg covered in scotch tape (crossed my mind!). Sorry, England, I tried, but I nearly gagged on it.

Scotch egg consists of a shelled hard-boiled egg, wrapped in a sausage meat mixture, coated in breadcrumbs, and deep-fried. Scotch eggs are commonly eaten cold, typically with salad and pickles. Contrary to popular belief (and despite being the butt of a number of English comedians' jokes about the Scottish diet), Scotch Eggs were actually invented by the famous London department store, Fortnum & Mason in 1851.

I'm still scared by British nightclubs - or at least the one I have visited twice now in Canterbury. Apparently there is another one that is better, but to be honest it wouldn't take a lot to be an improvement on overpriced drinks, cold bathrooms, groping men and bad 80s techno pop. I have never heard such bad music - not even the one time I ventured into Oscar's in the Cincinnati. I hate to say it but I miss my dive bar in Mill Creek.
When I took the train to London the other day, I mis-read the sign and ended up standing on the wrong platform, by myself, for ages. I thought the sign said Platform 2, and instead it was telling me that my train was coming 2nd. I had loads of people staring at me because I was on the "arrivals" platform, but looking really ready to depart!
I apparently can't make a decent cup of tea. I was made fun of for drinking "fancy Breakfast tea". I didn't realize there was an art form to boiling water and pouring it over some tea bags, but apparently there is. This is coming from the country that thinks lemonade is some kind of disgusting carbonated nonnsense.

I realize this post lacks the usual entertainment value, and for this I apologise. I'm tired, grumpy and ready to find a descendant of Napoleon who is still feeling bitter so I can wage war on the United Kingdom. ;) I'm sure by tomorrow I'll be fine - assuming I survive my epic drive.

Federman out (and I pity any fools who mess with me tonight).

Monday Madness

2010-02-15T17:01:00.000Z

Mood: Tired
Theme Song: "Never Scared" - Bone Crusher

I know my many fans have been requesting an update and I apologise for keeping you waiting. The lack of internet access at my house is driving me crazy. I have a USB stick from work that gives me - sometimes - a blazing fast 7MB worth of speed. Which basically means I can get to about 2 web pages an hour. (Side note: how did we ever live with dial-up?!) I promise to write more tomorrow when I have a bit more time. I've been swamped today at work - meetings and conference calls galore. And we all know how much I like to sit still and pay attention!

A quick note - on Friday I met up with the girls on my street for happy hour. It's basically a Pfizer unofficial event - their campus holds about 3,000 people and so its always random as to who shows up. At one point, sitting at my table were people from U.S. (me!), France, India, Australia, Germany, Japan and Africa (Zimbabwe). Later on, we got a few English and Scottish people too. It was a fascinating evening, and I just love how multicultural Canterbury is! My joke was that in the states, there would be a bunch of people around the table but it would be seen as exotic if you got someone from across the country - and really lucky if you got a Canadian or two.

I did find an answer to my weird roundabout question on how I handle that tricky 2nd exit. Basically that's viewed as "going straight" and so I don't have to use any signal! The entertainment continues!!

More tomorrow, I promise. I can also promise quite a bit of profanity as I'm going to start in on my taxes then, too. Grrrr....

Federman out.

All the Small Things

2010-02-11T18:14:00.001Z

Mood: Restless
Theme Song: "How Soon is Now?" - The Smiths

Today marks my very first British "snow day". We started getting quite a bit of snow yesterday afternoon and so I left work around 4 so I could make it home before dark. I stopped by the Morrison's (grocery store) to drop of my dry cleaning (they have a dry cleaner's inside, how cool!) and pick up a few things. Just like in the U.S., there was mass panic going on, with most of it centered around the milk, bread and egg areas. Which makes me wonder - if I was trapped in my house due to a cataclysmic snowstorm, I don't think I'm going to be making French toast all the live long day. Oh, and total sidenote, but British eggs are not refrigerated. They are out on the shelves with the canned goods and whatnot. Strange, huh! Anyway, I made it out of the store alive (and yes, with my very own bread and milk - I didn't need eggs because I had bought half a dozen from a lady at work who has a farm... no joke! And those eggs are the bomb, too!) and got home in one piece.

Fast forward to this morning, when I awoke after sleeping on my nice new bed (which was delivered yesterday; of course I had to assemble it myself - this being England and all). I took one look outside and decided it was a jeans and wellies kind of day. (Wellies = wellingtons = tall rubber boots, which I never understood until moving to England. They are perfect for rain and snow and tromping all over.) I got dressed, packed my lunch and headed outside into the cold and snow. I found Le Car (my affectionate name for my Peugeot) covered in about 6" (that's roughly 15cm) of snow. And I realized I had no scraper or brush. So I used a credit card and some elbow grease to clean off the windows and the hood (oh, I'm sorry, the "bonnet"). Got in, fired up the heat, put my coordinates into the GPS and set off. I was supposed to be going to our Hythe office today so I was going a new route. Which I quickly realised involved several of the dreaded "B" roads (see earlier posts for explanation). I was going to be brave and go for it, but about 1 mile into the trip, the snow started coming down in near blizzard-like conditions. I'm talking no visibility other than a sheet of fast moving white stuff. Even with my wipers on full speed, I could barely see the front of my own car, let alone the road or any other cars, so I quickly turned around and headed back home. That turned out to be a good thing since the hail started just after I got safely in my front door.

Around lunchtime, I walked into town (its a great walk and I was going stir-crazy just working on my computer and not having anyone to talk to/bother) and picked up some really exciting items like drain cleaner, an ice scraper and a bread knife. Did you know that you have to be over 18 to buy knives here? I don't mean bowie knives or the kind that every 5 year old has in Kentucky. I am talking steak knives and bread knives. And for alcohol, you can buy it at 18 but you have to look 21 - or something odd like that. I think its along the lines of our "card anyone who looks under 40" rule in the states, but its got a weird twist to it that I can't remember.

The weather has eased up and the sun actually made an appearance so the snow is melting. I think it will be safe to venture out tomorrow. I'm excited because I'm meeting the girls I hung out with last weekend for drinks. One of them organizes a big group thing at her company and its open to anyone who wants to come along - another chance to meet new people!

I have to give a shout out to my girl Andrea who sent me a great care box full of yummy American food - I now have my coveted Amy's Black Bean soup (going to have that tonight, in fact), Newman's Own Light Balsamic Vinaigrette and JIF Crunchy Reduced Fat peanut butter. And real Toothpaste!! The people at work were like, " We have Crest!" and I was like - yes, but you don't have THIS kind!! LOL. It's also funny to watch their faces when I hold up the peanut butter. They just don't get the magic of peanut butter! Sure, they'll put mayonnaise and butter on everything, but they're afraid of peanut butter. A woman I work with had her first taste of PB&J last week when I gave her a bite of my sandwich and she was shocked that it was actually good! I'm slowly winning people over that yes, there are some cool things that Americans do that you should maybe try too.

Before I share some hilarity, I just have to try to explain the weird-ass British phone billing system if I can. In the UK, you are charged different prices depending on who/where you're calling. Sounds familiar, right? Nope. Try to stay with me as I explain this. A landline to landline call is a fixed rate - unless you're calling a number that starts with a certain exchange. I can't remember what these are exactly but the closest US equivalent I can think of is a 900 number. But not really, because these exchanges aren't for risque services or anything. It's hard to explain. But for example, the phone numbers to letting agencies say underneath "calls to this number will be charged at 5p/min" or something similar. So even though you pay a monthly line rental fee, you pay for your calls on top of that. Unless you spring for an unlimited package, which covers you for most of your calls - except... calls to mobile phones. If you call a mobile phone from a landline, you're going to get charged up the wazoo. I'm not sure why, I just know this to be a truth. I don't know why calls to mobile phones aren't covered under the "unlimited" package, but they're not.

Here is what my Sky Talk Unlimited package provides (though I can't say for sure because the bloody shagging wankers at BT won't be here until FEBRUARY FRICKIN' 23RD!!! to set up my phone line) - check out how they charge weird prices for calls to certain exchanges. Also remember that 1p = 1.5 cents. Also, all fo these fun charges are on top of the £11/month "line rental" fee and the £5/month "Sky Talk Unlimited" fee.

Unlimited calls to UK landlines 24/7. UK calls apply to 01, 02, 03 and 0870 numbers only (exlcudes all calls to Channel Islands, indirect and dial-up Internet access numbers and 070 numbers). Calls to other 08 numbers cost no more than 10p per minute, with a maximum connection fee of 10p. Calls to 070 numbers cost no more than 48p per minute with a maximum connection fee of 50p. Full tariff details at Sky.com/skytalk. "Free" and "unlimited" calls last up to an hour, after which UK calls are charged at 5.25p per minute at any time of day and international calls at Sky Talk international standard rates, or you can hang up and redial as often as you like. (My question - so why can't you just talk continuously? What does hanging up do??)
20% cheaper call rates to UK mobiles compared to Sky Talk Freetime. (See! You have to pay to call a mobile phone... weird!!!)
Unlimited calls to 20 popular international destinations (Unlimited international landline calls to 20 countries: Australia, Austria, Belgium, Canada, Czech Republic, Denmark, France, Germany, Greece, Hungary, Ireland, Italy, Luxembourg, Netherlands, New Zealand, Norway, Spain, Sweden, Switzerland and USA (also includes calls to mobiles in Canada and the USA) - to which I say YES!!! Thank heavens for that one, because most of my peeps don't even have landlines anymore
Unlimited calls to Sky contact centres included at no extra charge. don't even know what this means...
A 25% discount on calls to 118 759 directory enquires. Calls to 118759 cost 18.75 per minute (plus a 51.75p connection charge) for Sky Talk customers calling from their Sky Talk landline. (So a total cost of 70.50p - or roughly $1.05 for every British "411" call. I don't remember what it costs in the US but I think its close to being the same)

The cool thing is that once I get the phone and interwebs actually installed, because I have SKY TV too, I can access all kinds of cool features via my cable box. I know I can check my account, etc, but I also have access to local government services and a bunch of other things.

And now, what I'm sure you've all been waiting for, funny things that happened this week:

My jacked up heating system. So here are some photos. One is of the closet where this heating system is located. The other is of the "timer" that I can't figure out and then there's the thermostat... which I think I just figured out has something to do with water temperature. BUT there's that white box (see picture of closet) which has a dial for thermostat and I don't know what on earth that does. Only thing I do know is that if the A light or B light start blinking, I better run for cover.

Today I tried to figure out my boiler vs. my heating boiler vs. my heating timer - and accidentally turned all my heat off. Didn't realize it until I started shivering. I'm still not quite sure how to put the damn heat on the timer so I'm not wasting energy all day and being charged outrageous prices by the idiots at the utility company.

Which brings me to...

Erin vs. British Gas. Fun fact: they don't read your meter here. You either have to read it every month and call/phone/text it in, or they will "estimate" it for you. By law, they are only required to read it every 18 months. When I heard this, I was not pleased. The conversation went something like this -

Me: I got a bill, but it says estimated. I think your people forgot to read my meter.
British Gas Lady on Phone (BGLP): No, we only read the meter every 18 months.
Me: What? Are you serious?
BGLP: Yes, that's the law. We will estimate your bill, or you can do a reading on the last day of each month and give us the number and we will calculate your bill for you.
Me: So, wait. You want me to do your job for you?
BGLP: No. It's not our job. It's your job.
Me: It's my job to read my own meter?! (voice rising)
BGLP: Yes.
Me: That's unethical.
BGLP: Miss, that's the law.
Me: Well then that's an unethical law. I get this bill and its estimated at a ridiculously high rate (Note: they are trying to charge me £30 for 10 days of gas - basically $45).
BGLP: Miss, its not unethical. We estimate based on the last tenant and overall usage in your area.
Me: That's just stupid.
BGLP: Miss, we --
Me: I mean, that's really really stupid. Its like what if you went out to eat and instead of giving you a menu with prices, I just served you some food and then "estimated" your bill based on how much people all around you were eating? And what if the people around you were all big and hungry?
BGLP: Miss, that's really uncalled for, we --
Me: I'm not saying you're fat and will eat alot. I'm just saying that its about as stupid as how you run things.
BGLP: (silence)
Me: So I guess my only choice is to do your job for you and give you my number every month or get ripped off because the person before me was a gas hog?
BGLP: Miss, you are always free to submit your meter readings.

The conversation continued in this vein for quite a while. I then called my Electric provider and it went sort of the same way. So I have no choice but to read my meter each month and give them the figures. But it makes me wonder, what's to stop me from calling one month and saying the meter reads 6735 and then the next month telling them it reads 6745, even though it really reads 6918 or something. Since they only roll their lazy butts out here every 18 months, how would they know? I'm not going to do that because I don't want any trouble with the UK authorities, but it doesn't seem like a very good system to me.

I struggle because I don't want to constantly be saying "Where I come from..." and acting like its better. But... it kinda is. I think part of it is that the U.S. is so new compared to the UK and Europe, and I think another part is the sheer size of the country and the economies of scale realized, but most of it is just the nature of America - and our "American-ness". As a people, we are used to choice and wanting the best. The free market system (that the Obamanation is doing its best to destroy) has given us the freedom to pick and choose what we want, and to demand good service. Not that we always get it - although most of the really bad service comes from government-run establishments (DMV, post office, IRS, etc)... which makes me wonder yet once again, why do we want the government involved in our health care system?

Oh, and here's another little fun factoid. I mentioned to a co-worker that I needed to find a Gyn so I could get my annual exam done, and I was greeted with a look of confusion. Ladies dont get annual exams over here. It's bi-annual, or every three years if you're lucky. The only way around that is if you have a documented history of issues with your lady business. And even then, it depends. Mammograms don't start until 50 and then its every 3 years for that, too. It seems that with the NHS, routine health maintenance is not as "routine" as I'm used to. Thank goodness my company provides provide health insurance on top of the NHS as one of our benefits.

Which does leave me thinking - if the NHS is so wonderful, and socialized medicine is the great panacea the Obamanation wants us to think it is, then why on earth is there private insurance? And why would a company provide it? In doing so - as a standard benefit - it seems that even my own company recognizes that the NHS doesn't make the grade and that for people to get any kind of decent care, they need a little something extra. Just some food for thought...

Federman out.

Weekend in Review

2010-02-08T13:53:00.000Z

In reviewing my previous posts, it looks like I acheived all my goals for the weekend! I cleaned my flat! I watched the 2-hour LOST premiere - and was both enthralled and horribly confused. Parallel dimensions? Daydreaming? Hallucinogens? Can't wait to find out!! I did indeed visit Noa Noa and ended up with two new blazers, a sweater, a shirt/dress thing, a necklace and some earrings. (So much for my budget!) But I cleaned out my closet yesterday so I guess it all works out in some kind of Zen balancing act. Actually, the closet thing was fun because since my surgery, I've actually lost about 8-10lbs (3.6kg - 4.5kg). So not only can I now fit into button up shirts without looking like I'm 8 months pregnant, but I can also wear all those pants I bought "just in case". My next goal is to get back to that dreamy, mystical land of single-digit pants. Although on the downside, the only thing that has kept me away from ridiculously priced designer jeans is that I looked like two pigs in a blanket fighting when I tried them on. (Although UK sizes are "bigger" than their U.S. equivalent, but the thing is that I will know even if these silly Brits don't - ha!)

It really is weird, as I've heard from other people that they lost weight when they moved outside the U.S. - but since I struggle with it, I just pretty much ignored them. The funny thing is that I haven't started any workout program per se (I have just finished my "recovery" time and so now I can begin in earnest), and I think I've been eating more rather than less. But I really do think it boils down to what I'm eating. Yeah, I'm OD'ing on bread, but its freshly baked bread with no chemicals. Same for the butter - its real butter. So real I can still hear it moo. And we've got real cheese and real chocolate (made with sugar, not high-fructose corn syrup). I've been drinking alot of tea and water, so maybe that's been helping? And I try to walk as much as possible. Just to and from the local Tesco (grocery store) is 1 mile, and I will usually wander further into and around Canterbury town. So on the weekend I'm walking anywhere from 2-4 miles, which I'm sure is helping. I need to start doing something every day, and now that I'm getting my bearings as to where I am, I think this will happen with more frequency. A co-worker and her husband live in Canterbury and she's American, so we can put on our iPods filled with grotty hip-hop and go bouncing around the town together ;)

Speaking of music and such, I have GOT to describe my experience this past weekend going "out". When I went to the housewarming party thrown by my neighbours a week or so ago, I met two very nice women and we exchanged contact information and agreed to meet up. So on Saturday, they came to my flat and we had a drink before setting out on the town. They took me first to a very nice, low-key bar. I have forgotten the name, but it seemed like a nice place to gather with friends. The music wasn't too loud that you couldn't have a conversation and the drinks were reasonably priced (for England - we ordered 1 Maker's & Diet, 1 glass of white wine and 1 fruit juice mixture and it was £9,50 - or roughly $15). After hanging out there for an hour or so, we all started yawning. It was barely midnight! But one of the girls suggested that we at least check out the local dance spot before heading home, just so that I could see it and get the feel of it. So we headed over to a place called The Old Brewery.

My impressions:

We had to queue outside, but not for very long. However, it was long enough for me to see the girls in sleeveless super short dresses and stripper heels. (Side note: for some reason, the streetwalker look is huge over here. Super short dresses barely covering the bum and sky-high spike heels.)
Upon entry, my senses were assaulted by: (1) loads of people, (2) the smelled of spilled beer and (3) Bon Jovi's "Livin' on a Prayer". The crowd was going NUTS over this music, which I found to be quite hilarious, seeing as how they were mostly British and knew nothing about Johnny or the docks whereupon he used to work. They also don't understand New Jersey, but in all fairness, I'm not quite sure I do either.
After Bon Jovi, we were treated to "I Wanna Dance with Somebody" (pre-crack Whitney Houston), "Footloose" (yes, the one you're thinking of) and more inexpilcably, the theme song from Baywatch. I'm not kidding, people. The place went wild when that song came on, leaving me to stand there with my mouth hanging open in pure shock. I don't know which Baywatch theme song it was, as according to Wikipedia there were about six or seven versions - I just know that when I heard it I saw the Hoff on a beach in my head.
The music they choose is strange - lots of BritPop (semi-techno-y dance music) that I didn't know peppered with Lady Gaga, Rihanna and that stupid "Tick Tock" song that is everywhere over here.
The outfits were beyond bizarre. All the girls, no matter their size, looked like frazzled hookers. And there were a few in costumes - like one was a pirate I think and one a fairy. The guys were in typical Euro guy wear - skinny pants, button down or pullover shirts. There was a big group of guys in suit jackets, dress shirts, ties - and boxer shorts. I think it was a stag party (bachelor party). At least I really, really hope so. It was funny, though, because over here "pants" = underwear, and so when I hollered "Oh my god, that guy doesn't have any pants on!" people definitely looked.
The dance floor was so packed, it was like an obstacle course. I had to dance with my elbows permanently out to keep people from slamming into me or dancing right on top of me. As most of the people in the place were completely plastered (wayyyy drunker than I've ever seen such a large group in the U.S., outside of a good Irish pub) and British, the dancing was more like a mass epileptic seizure. Rythym does not seem to have made it across the pond, or at least not to Canterbury.

The highlight of the night was when, about 1:30am, the DJ started playing songs I recognized. First up was "American Boy" by Estelle featuring Kanye. The irony of me listening to that in England was not lost on me. Then to my overwhelming joy, they played the Applebottom Jeans song, giving me a chance to get my groove on to T-Pain and show off my sweet Soul Train dance moves. It was like an amazing release to get my jam on - I soooo miss my crazy music.

Anyway, the night was alot of fun and I totally want to go back to that place. Maybe go up to the DJ and request some UGK, Lil Wayne, hard core hip/hop. Mix things up a little ;)

Manic Monday

2010-02-08T12:50:00.000Z

Mood: Freezing! (Ok, that's not a mood but I didn't wear any socks today and my feet are ice cold)
Theme Song: "Party All the Time" - Eddie Murphy

So I must first apologize for any typos that may happen today. Blogger does not have a spell check function that I've been able to find, and my keyboard is now set to be a UK keyboard. Which means that the @ sign is where the " normally are, and the £ is where the # normally is and so on and so forth. In Britain's defense, its not as jacked up as French keyboards (to which I say WTF, France!)

The UK keyboard looks like this - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:KB_United_Kingdom.svg
And the French keyboard looks like this - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:KB_France.svg.

So the big news for the day is that there was a dusting of snow this morning. Having driven on British roads, I have to say that some of the spazzing out is justified since the roads over here are nonsense. Absolute nonsense. Anyway, there were all kinds of accidents and back-ups this morning on the motorways. I was lucky as my way into work was incident free - AND I got here without the use of my GPS system, so progress is being made!!!

I did find the Waitrose on Friday afternoon - turns out I was one exit off in my original calculations. The Waitrose is awesome! They have this system where you swipe your credit card and then you get a hand-held scanner and you can scan your groceries yourself and put them into bags as you go through the store. Then you take that handheld scanner to the cashier and just pay. It was so easy! They do spot checks to make sure you're not stealing stuff, so it looks like a good system overall. I found some good stuff - Newman's Own Balsamic Vinaigrette (not the Low-Fat kind, but it will do), black beans (in salted water, though, but you can't have everything) and Amy's Organic Soups - though no Black Bean soup. I also found Charmin toilet paper, which I haven't seen anywhere else. For some reason the Cottonelle brand is called Andrex over here. And Bounty is called Plenty. Same logos and packaging and everything, just different names!

Food I really like from over here:
- Babybel cheese
- British baked goods - scones, muffins, bread. Mmmmm. I love buying fresh bread
- Tea. And yes, it is better over here
- Marks & Spencer cola. It reminds me of Jones Soda because there is no high fructose nonsense or chemicals in it. And I think because of that, I'll half a small glass of soda instead of a whole can of Diet Coke.
- Morrison's (store brand) Greek Yoghurt with Honey. I'm too much of a wimp to roll with regular greek yoghurt (too sour even if I add my own honey and blueberries), but I love the ready made kind
- Blueberries! I know they're not native to UK but for some reason I'm loving them. I buy them and snack on them constantly

I'm also more and more aware of how the cuisine reflects the environment. There's lots of lamb because sheep are everywhere! (I bet in the next census it would be like #1 - UK citizens, #2 - illegal immigrants, #3 - sheep) There are things called pasties - and no, they haven't anything to do with strippers - and they are ideal for carrying around and munching on to keep your hands warm. They are pronounced "pahh-stees". The same goes for all the variations of stew over here and the like. (For those of you who are really curious, check out http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/British_cuisine or http://european-culinary-travel.suite101.com/article.cfm/a-guide-to-british-cuisine).

Thank HRH its Friday!

2010-02-05T13:34:00.000Z

Mood: Optimistic
Theme Song: "Everybody's Working for the Weekend"

Happy News! I'm not going to Mexico later this month so I will be at home for the BT guy to come and set up my long-awaited home phone! The package I bought includes unlimited calls long-distance for calls 59min or less - so I can call my homies! Yay! In other happy news, my trip for Japan is now in May, which is a beautiful time to visit apparently. Cherry trees! The unhappy news is that means all my travel is back-ended to March now.

My mission to visit the Waitrose last night was a bust. I tried to find it, but my GPS didn't reconize the post code and my internal GPS was not working right. I ended up taking the wrong exit off the roundabout - which took me into a really scary area that was pitch-black and farmland. Driving through that was not fun, and I have to say that I was actually really scared. I made it home (obviously) but spent most of the time terrified, wondering what would happen if I broke down.

British radio stations are hilarious. Last night on the way home from work I was listening to these two female DJs talk about this calendar they had received entitled "Doug in the Bath". Seems this guy Doug - who is apparently older, quite hairy and balding - made a calendar for 2010 of pictures of himself in the bath. And then gave it to all his friends as a Christmas present. The DJs were reading off what each month was and just cracking up. One month showed him in a tub full of bubbles. Another month, he had a friend in the tub with him (apparently some happy looking blond guy). Another month it was a romantic setting, with candles and flowers. But the best was December, where they said that our boy Doug was completely au naturel save for a Winnie-the-Pooh washcloth positioned over his manly bits! For 2011, Doug is planning a new line called "Doug in the Hole" - in which he will photograph himself inside various holes around the world. It's times like these when I start thinking that technology is not necessarily something that should be given to just anyone. Although it did give me an idea for my own calendar - Stupid English Roads.

The variety of music is also really frustrating for me. So far, I can bet that when I turn on the radio, I'm going to get one of the following - The Haiti REM remake (which sucks in my opinion), Lady Gaga, Robbie Williams, the Sugababes or Girls Aloud. No Drake. No Snoop-a-loop. No Eminem. At this point I would probably even settle for the Jonas Brothers or Miley Cyrus. You know what? Barry will pass out reading this, but I'd even settle for Radiohead. I'm seriously looking into how I can get some kind of satellite radio in my car so I can get my jam on to decent music. If everyday is going to be an obstacle course with the constant threat of sudden vehicular death hanging over my head, then I better get some good music to go with it! On the subject of cars, I get a car as part of my package here at work (this is very standard in UK and Europe for marketing jobs), but it won't arrive until March or April. Even though I pass several dealerships on the way to work, its been explained to me that getting a new car here is not like in the U.S. - since we use a LeasePlan, they insist on ordering the car direct from the manufacturer who then has to build it. Seems a silly way to handle things - wouldn't it just be better to take an available car off a lot somewhere? But this is the way it is done and so in the meantime I have a rental car that I am just beating all to hell. I'm sure the suspension will soon be shot from all the times I've accidentally run into the curb while going 40mph (overcompensating to the left because it freaks me out to have traffic coming at me on my right), and I'd bet I've used up about 6 months worth of brakes trying to manage my speed. I won't even mention the fact that most of the roads I drive on are bumpy and filled with monster pot-holes.

Spent more time this morning with my colleagues discussing American vs. British terms. For example, the Brits don't say "Wow!" or "Awesome!". They think its hilarious when those words come out of my mouth. We also discussed how British say "anti-clockwise" and Americans say "counter-clockwise". I told them that "anti-clockwise" makes it sound like they have something personal against all things clockwise.

I struggle because there are so many things I want to explain that are so uniquely American - like anything that has been on Saturday Night Live. They don't get that show over here and so they don't understand anything I reference. Like "Hans and Franz". Or saying someone looks like The Church Lady. Or my personal favorite, "I'm on a Boat". But I have introduced my co-workers to http://www.urbandictionary.com/ so that they can decipher some of my mutterings. And I have explained what I mean when I yell "Shamon!" when excited or pleased. I think I'm doing an excellent job of advancing American-British relations, and that Hilary herself would be proud.

Today is Friday (yay!) and so we get to leave the office at 3:30pm. Since I didn't make it to the Waitrose last night, I'm going to check it out this afternoon. I hear its manna for Americans and so I'm really excited. On deck for this weekend -

Giving the flat a good cleaning and watching LOST Premiere (tonight! Yay!)
Visiting my new favorite store (Noa Noa) and ogling all the new spring goodies that I can't afford
Tea with M&J to see their new adorable baby
Drinks with my new neighbour friends that I met at the housewarming party
Laundry, laundry, laundry in the dreaded washer/dryer

If I have time on Sunday I'm going to try to get to Rochester to wander around. I've made myself a promise that I'm going to spend one day a weekend taking in the culture and history of this fine country. Besides, why should I keep my Erin-ness all to myself? ;)

Federman out.

America, The Beautiful

2010-02-04T18:08:00.001Z

Mood: Irritable
Theme Song: "Break Stuff" - Limp Bizkit

Where to begin? Well, to start with, I'm still in my soon-to-become-epic war with Sky TV/British Telephone. Those morons messed up my order and are telling me they can't install my telephone line until 23rd February. Apparently, they are so busy that they just can't get around to it until then. I don't know what they are so busy doing, but it sure isn't installing my damn telephone. I can't get my internet service until my telephone is activated. Once that happens, it will be 10 days for my "rooter" to be sent to me. And they won't send it to my work, either. So I'll probably be chasing it down in British post office hell for a good few days. Which means I won't have internet at home until the 25th of Never. ARGH! The Mensa member I spoke to on the phone today actually told me that if I wasn't home, they'd just leave my router with my neighbor. As my girl Whitney would say, "Oh hell-to-the-NO!". Like I want my stuff left with some strangers?! I don't care if they're British or American, you don't leave packages with random people on your street. Bizarre! But after stressing my extreme displeasure, I did get half off my line rental rate for a year, so that's something.

On Tuesday night, I flew back into London-Gatwick (which really is much easier than London-Heathrow). After navigating immigration - where I had to provide my fingerprints (first time doing that!) - I then had to take the bus from the South Terminal to the North Terminal. I then had to take another bus from the North Terminal to the Long Term Parking Lot. Upon arriving at the lot, the bus driver kept asking me what bus stop I wanted. Hell, I didn't know. I just knew I was parked in X3. So the driver came to the first sign that said "X" he could find and then stopped to let me out. Before I could ask a question, he was gone. So there I was, alone, in the dark British night, staring at rows and rows of cars. And my car was nowhere in sight. My rental car doesn't have the alarm feature on the key ring so I was aimlessly wandering up and down the aisles trying to flash the lights and hoping that I wouldn't get jumped in the meantime. After nearly breaking into tears, I finally found my car and began the laborious navigation back to the motorway.

I know I've commented before about the scariness of driving on British roads at night (or in the daytime, for that matter). Something I realized on my trips to and from the airport is that the highways aren't well-lit either! For those of you in Cincinnati, its ALL like that one scary stretch of I-74 (coming from downtown on I-75) where there aren't any streetlights. The lanes are smaller and the cars drive like bats out of hell, zipping and zooming and speeding all over - speed cameras be damned. (I later found out that only some of them are actually operational and that most people who drive those roads regularly know which ones to pay attention to). Thanks to my GPS system (sooo glad I sprung for the $100 to upgrade to the UK/Europe package before I left the US), I was able to make it home in one piece and with a minimum of confusion. I think a good sign of how rattled I was is that while flicking through the radio channels in an attempt to find something tolerable, I came across what I thought was Vanilla Ice - and started singing along. Only at the end of the song did I discover that I had been jammin' to Jedward (can't explain, just Google it). Oh, the horror. How low I have fallen...

Yesterday at work we had basically an all-day meeting that lasted until 7pm - going over our strategy with various countries and distributors. There was a dinner directly after that, and in typical British fashion it was in a restaurant that was hard to find. Every time I've been to a dinner since I've been over here, its like a scavenger hunt to find the place. This one, to be fair, was called "The Secret Garden", so the fact that it wasn't hard to find was kind of explained by the name. But seriously! I was longing for our well-lit easy to find shopping and dining areas in the U.S.

During dinner, I was talking to one of the VPs at my company and he asked me how I was finding living in England. I told him that I enjoyed it... except for:

The dreaded washer/dryer
Lack of streetlights
Mayonnaise
Crazy Britpop music (I miss KISS FM! there! I've said it! I miss the Clear Channel monstrosity)
Sky TV
British drivers
Exorbitant cost of dry cleaning

You know, I keep realising what a sense of entitlement we Americans have. And I never thought I was like that - honestly. But I realise that the rest of the world finds it bizarre that we use up so much space and so many natural resources. And you know, I've already realised that I don't need a huge car. And I don't need as much space - or as much stuff - as I originally thought. And we do tend to waste stuff... food, water, gas, clothes. Americans do tend to live a disposable lifestyle. And I'm not just talking about "Save the Earth" recycling. It's everything - how we shop, why we shop, what we buy... its just so hard to explain.

And that I have been VERY VERY spoiled by the immediate availability of anything I wanted to buy, and by American customer service. I'm so used to raising a fuss if things aren't acceptable and having people WANT to fix the problem. It's just not the same over here. People are much more patient and accepting that not everything will go as planned and that the first thing on everyone's mind isn't convenience.

After dinner (I had a broccoli-cheese soup made from local cheeses which was good, but nothing like my Mom's, and then the entree was sausage and leek with potatoes and lentils and it was surprisingly really good!), I used my GPS to navigate back to my house. Bad choice, as it took me the most "direct" way. Now, in the U.S. that would be just fine. In the UK, it meant taking the dreaded "B" road (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Great_Britain_road_numbering_scheme). The best analogy I have is that its kind of like State Routes in the U.S. - but even they are wider and well-lit.

B roads are numbered local routes, which have lower traffic densities than the main trunk roads, or A roads. They are typically short, not usually more than 15 miles. The classification has nothing to do with the width or quality of the physical road, and B roads can range from dual carriageways to single track roads with passing places. B roads follow the same numbering scheme as A roads, but almost always have 3- and 4-digit designations. Many 3-digit B roads outside the London area are former A roads which have been downgraded owing to new road construction; others may link smaller settlements to A roads.

I think I took B2098 or some such. Let me just say B roads are FREAKING SCARY. If my college friend Stacey K is reading this, she will understand when I say PISGAH FOREST!!! These B roads remind me of some scary serial-killer road you'd see in a horror film. Narrow, pitch-black, and windy. The few I took were out in the middle of nowhere (or at least it looked like that - blackness on either side of me) and I seemed to go uphill and downhill at random. Oh, and the posted speed limit? Usually 40mph or 50mph. These people are crazy!!!

I arrived at home, white-knucked and tense, only to get the heel of my shoe stuck in the pavement outside my house. And then I literally tripped on the heel and fell into my front hall. And this is why I don't wear heels of any size. They may look good, but I'm a disaster moving around in them. I got home just in time for my 11pm conference call wtih our Japan office, after which I immediately went to bed. Well, okay I did watch about 15 minutes of X-Men 3.

I stopped at Staples on the way in to work today to buy some 4-hole punch binders (they don't have 3-hole punch... which makes sense since A4 paper is longer than U.S. letter size paper), and the clerk commented on how all Americans say "Have a good day!" or "Have a nice day!". I didn't think anything of it until he handed me my purchases and I automatically replied "Thanks! Have a good one!". Some stereotypes I guess are really true!!

I tried Walker's Cheese & Onion crisps today - they are pretty good. I am going to be adventurous and try Prawn Cocktail soon. Although it will take me awhile to get to where I can safely eat Badger flavour. (Its not real badger.. don't know why its called that). I'm off now to my local Waitrose (http://www.waitrose.com/) where I hear I can buy American food. We'll see...

Counting down the hours until the LOST Season 6 premiere... for some reason, we get it a good few days after the U.S. - its been killing me not to Google it and get spoilers. SO DON'T TELL ME ANYTHING!!! :)

Ok, finally leaving work after a long day, during which all my travel plans for this month changed. No longer going to Canada, Mexico or Japan this month - everythings been moved to March or May. But I think Tokyo in May will be much better anyway, so I'm not upset. There is a chance I'll be going to Cyprus next month, and that's also not a bad thing. My life could indeed be worse!

Federman out.

Achtung, Baby!

2010-02-01T20:40:00.000Z

Mood: Exhausted

Theme Song: Anything by Herr David Hasselhoff, including that awesome video of him eating a hamburger

Sitting in my hotel room in Munich, totally exhausted. I had to get up at 2:30am GMT to make my 06:30am flight this morning. Even though I took an Ambien and went to bed around 7:30pm last night, I still didn't really sleep. I never do when I know I have to get up at an ungodly hour. I managed the drive to Gatwick without incident, but I was so tired that I - a) parked in the South Terminal parking lot when I was flying out of the North Terminal (got all the way to security before it was pointed out to me that I was in the wrong terminal - and so I got to take the intra-terminal bus complete with drunken British rider) and also b) managed to leave my clear plastic bag full of my liquids behind at security. I hope I didn't freak anyone out by abandoning my travel-size Aquafresh and miniature hotel conditioner (that I stole from my last hotel). Of course I didn't realize that I left these behind until I checked into my hotel this evening. Luckily the nice German guy at the desk gave me a free travel-size toothpaste.

I took my first EasyJet flight - and aside from the cattle stampede to board (there are no assigned seats, so its worse than Southwest with its A, B, and C groups), I found it to be just fine. I ended up with a whole row to myself since only insane people take a flight at 6am, and I managed to get about an hour's worth of semi-sleep. You know, I hate to point this out because I don't want to pick on the British race as a whole, but I have noticed some legendary halitosis over here. As in so bad I want to gag stanky breath. And by and large, it is all the same noxious odour. (It's a British smell, so it gets the extra "u"). So... either I'm hyper-sensitive to funky breath or there is something in the food/water/tea that causes people to smell like they are rotting from the inside out. I don't know what it is, but it is really, REALLY difficult to be near.

*Note - my British friend Jess does NOT have stank breath or stank anything. I just wanted to clear that up. I am speaking strictly of random weird co-workers and a cornucopia of strangers at Heathrow/on the Eurostar/on the parking lot bus/etc.

After I cleared immigration and came out to the taxi stand at Munich airport, I was rather confused because there was no sort of taxi queue at all. Just a bunch of taxis all lined up, and I didn't know where to begin. I also didn't know which ones were "real" taxis and which were gypsy cabs. It didn't help things that a scary looking swarthy dude hopped out of one of them and started screaming at me (in heavily accented English) "You! You miss! You in cab! Now! In the cab, go! You!" I may be missing a few words, but that was the gist of his outburst. I looked at him and said, "Oh, nononono. HELL no. Not at 9am. I need someone who speaks English". I didn't add "and also doesn't look like they want to knife-rape me in a dark German alley". I went back into the terminal and found a group of men having a bit of a koffee klatsch. After busting out my horrid German "spreich-en-zee Aing-lisch?" I found a non-felonious looking one to take me to our German offices.

On the way there I couldn't help but notice how flat - and boring - the area on either side of the highway was. I was also cracking up at the signs I saw saying "Ausfahrt". Until I put two and two together and figured out that there couldn't be that many places with the same name and it had to mean "Exit" or "Warning". (Turns out it meant exit - its still damn funny.) It was nice to be on the "right" side of the road again, though. And no roundy-roundys! Just normal turns and exits - yay!!

Oh, and people over here put a melodious sound to my last name - its "Fey-der-mahn". No "Feed-er-man". Or, as I recall from one really bad visit to the doctor's office when I was little, "Urn Fid-dermun". And that's on the real, yo.

We had lunch in the office park "canteen" - basically a cafeteria that offers a discount to the companies who are in that area. I had roasted chicken - Henckel something or other, a tomato and "oh-live" mix (pronouced "oh" and "live" like "Live! In concert..."), and yellow rice. It was pretty good, once I picked out the olives. I was shocked to see that weinerschnitzel is not a weiner at all, but some kind of flat pork patty. And german potato salad looks nothing like I remember from countless Cincinnati picnics.

I had dinner with a colleague at a pretty nice restaurant near the hotel, where I had a real German riesling (not super sweet like in America). I also took advantage of the restaurant's "Steak Happy Hour". Seriously, with a name like that, how could I not? The menu even said, in English, "Happy Steak Days!". It came with some vegetables and a baked potato with a dill yogurt sauce that was surprisingly good. I passed on the espresso because I'd actually like to sleep again this week.

Tomorrow is more meetings and then back to Gatwick on the evening flight. It snowed a bit this afternoon so I hope it doesn't keep up again tomorrow, as I'd really like to get home at a reasonable hour. The good news is that I've got a "tea" date with some work friends on Saturday and I am going to try to get together with the two women I met at last weekend's housewarming party. Trying to enjoy my weekends at home before the whirlwind travel later this month wherein I will hit Canada, the U.S., Mexico, possibly Japan and then Brussels. All within roughly 3 weeks. Yeah, I know I asked for this, but it doesn't make all the long flights any more fun!!

Before I literally pass out, some more random thoughts -

It is SOOOO American to say "Have a nice day!". No one in England does that, and I can't seem to help myself!
At the end of a phone conversation, the Brits will say "Bye!" but put a high inflection on the end like it is a question almost. Totally confused me for the first few weeks I was over here.
I told one of the ladies in the neighbourhood that I was decorating my flat and she thought I was painting and renovating the place. Turns out my version of decorating (i.e. hanging a few pictures, putting out knick-knacks, etc) does not jibe with the UK version.

I can't stress this enough - Americans are UNBELIEVABLY spoiled by convenience and service. We aren't used to waiting for things and we like to get what we want, when we want it. I literally have to stop myself from getting pissed off when I encounter a situation that in the U.S. would be deemed "unacceptable". For example, terrible service. Over here, its kind of like "just deal with it". Or waiting in line for ages... and ages... and ages. It just happens. And I'm pretty sure that "the customer is always right" has never made it across the pond.

Off to try to fall asleep, though I'm pretty intruiged by all the American TV that is dubbed over in German. EVERYTHING is funnier in German. So far I've seen German American Idol, German Cops, CSI: New York (in German) and now Desperate Housewives. Sadly, in the case of the latter, changing the language hasn't improved the programming at all.

Federman out.
Guten Nacht, y'all..

News of the (UK) Weird

2010-01-29T13:00:00.000Z

Some sample gems from across the pond...

Pyjama-wearing ban spreads from Cardiff to Shanghai

Ayrshire businessman has to pay through the nose for using tissue at the wheel

UK car park machine thinks its German

Man smuggled 44 lizards in his underpants (ok, its New Zealand but close enough)

And this isn't super funny, per se, just rather interesting as it reviews things of the past decade on the web. What we call the 2000's - or something else I guess - the Brits call the "Noughties".

More later.
Federman out.

Bits and Bobs

2010-01-28T17:55:00.000Z

Mood: Bouncy
Theme Song: "Forgot About Dre" - Dr. Dre & Eminem (again, for no good reason other than I like the song)

Last night I walked into town to get my hair cut and on the way back I stopped in the pub across the street from me. It's really small and cozy inside and was chock full of people drinking beer and watching football (soccer) on TV. And playing darts. I wanted to just grab a quick bite to eat but there weren't any tables free and there were no stools at the bar - it was more of a walk-up kind of thing. The good thing is the bartender was female so we chatted a bit and I told her I'd come back on a night where it wasn't so crowded. She told me I could sit with "that big fat guy over there - he comes in all the time and is basically harmless" but I didn't take that as a ringing endorsement of a good time to be had - at least by me!

I walked down the street to a place called Pinocchio's - a tiny hole in the wall Italian restaurant. The menu looked good so I thought I'd try it. There was a grand total of one other table occupied, and I was waited on by one of the owners himself - Massimo. There are three brothers who own it, and they are for real Italian. From Naples. I had bruschetta and Pasta All' Matriciana. That's the dish I had when I was in Rome and it was fantastic! I chatted with Massimo and broke out me really rusty Italian. He made me happy by asking me if I was a student (Canterbury is a university town and overrun with college age kids). He also kept calling me "Bella" which was really sweet and Italian of him. I will definitely be going back there - (1) because the food was awesome and fairly cheap and (2) because I dig Italians and maybe Massimo has some hot cousins who need a green card or something ;)

Just a jumble of things I've been meaning to write about, but aren't in any way connected:

Got my hair cut yesterday. It's true that British hair dressers rule. Mine's named Jack and he is straight. He also is a genius when it comes to my 'fro. I went in looking like Sideshow Bob and came out looking... human. We're going to play color in about 6 weeks, so that should be fun.
The roads here are so quaint. I live in Canterbury, but work in Ashford. When I come to work, I start out on Canterbury Road and it turns into Ashford Road. When I leave work, I start out on Ashford Road, which becomes Canterbury Road (obviously). It's like this all over the UK. I noticed it first in Ireland - it comes from the old days when roads were defined by where you were going or coming from. It's kind of cool because if I find myself on Folkestone Road, I know that taking it can lead me into the town of Folkestone!
Had a near-death experience yesterday. I was driving down a single carriageway road - basically a smaller back road with two lanes and a dotted line in the middle - and I was stuck behind this idiot towing what looked like a piece of farm equipment. A few cars in front of me had gone around him by passing on the opposite side of the road. After ascertaining that the nearest oncoming car was wayyyy far away, I put on my signal and proceeded to try to pass. Wouldn't you know it but that git suddenly sped up to like 70mph and wouldn't let me pass! Before I knew it I found myself staring at oncoming traffic. I threw my brakes on and barely made it over back into my lane in time. I tell you what, I hope the guy in front of me couldn't read lips - I cursed him up, down, sideways - basically six ways from Sunday. I finally got around him, but it was only when there was absolutely no oncoming traffic and I could safely get around his dumb self. But it was way, way scary.
Instead of saying "pound" (as in "To delete this message, press the pound sign/key"), the Brits say "hash". Press hash. Hilarious!
I love the hard "h" they use - they say "haych". When they're spelling things - "You go to High Street - that's haych i g haych".
I told someone that their check stub was on the desk and I got a puzzled look. Here they are called "pay stubs"
The tabloid magazines are an absolute riot. They put our "Elvis is alive and I'm having his martian baby" stories to shame. I'm going to have to gather a few and scan them in or something.
No one over here says "Pip, pip cheerio". I'm really sad about that. I was told that comes from Mary Poppins in which Dick VanDyke did a horrid London Cockney accent. But I'm still going to say it because I like it.

There are loads of other things that are said here that just crack me up on a continous basis. Its really strange to be the one with the accent. Every time I open my mouth - and let's face it, my mouth spends more time open than closed! - people turn to look at me. I get asked questions about all things American. Like, what do you call American A4 size paper? Ummm... 8.5x11? Letter size? Ok, well then what's your A3? Legal size. And bigger than that? That would be Tabloid. And they go "ohhhhhhhh".

I get asked continuously about taxes - but I've figured out that, at least for me, its pretty much even-steven. The difference is that they just take it all out at once here, and you don't have a choice about supporting certain things. There's no sales tax, state tax, city tax, school tax - well, rather there ARE, but they are included in the big lump sum they take out. I'll have to do a full analysis at year end, though, to be sure.

I get paid once a month now and so this will be an exercise in budgeting, the likes of which I haven't seen since college. I'm excited because a woman that works for my old company, but in the UK, is coming down to visit me this weekend. I will get to be shown around by a real-live Brit - who can explain the food, and the roads, and the telly and the music. Hopefully, anyway!

Other big plans for me include getting up at 2:30am on Monday morning to drive to London-Gatwick and fly to Munich to visit our German office for 2 days. I'm taking Easy Jet (scared!) and they only had two options - crack of dawn or smack-dab-in-the-middle-of-the-day. So I'm taking the Rooster Express at 06:20am. Eugh, eugh, eugh.

Oh! Funny story. I cracked everyone up yesterday. My cell phone rang and this heavily accented voice identified himself as so-and-so from HSBC (my bank) and then demanded some personal information. I asked why he was calling and was he trying to sell me something. He said no, but that he couldn't tell me why he was calling until I told him my information. I told him that I wasn't giving him my information until he could tell me why he was calling. This went back and forth for a bit until we reached an impasse and he finally gave in. He was calling to verify a standing debit order I had placed for my monthly rent payment. The amount on one piece of paper was different from the amount on another piece of paper and so they were trying to figure it all out. I was glad that the bank verified with me because it saved alot of headache - but as I explained to the guy calling, its really off-putting to get some foreigner calling you up and demanding personal information with no explanation. He apologised and assured me he did work for HSBC. I asked him where he was, what branch. His answer? "India". So, being me, I asked him "How is it that if you work for a British bank, you're calling me from India? What's that all about? I mean if you want me to give you my secure information, shouldn't you be at least calling from the UK? I didn't sign up with Bank of India!" - and my co-workers just lost it. Totally cracked up. I wasn't trying to be rude - I thought I had a valid point. However, I did win major brownie points because I guess I said out loud what lots of British people have been thinking for years.

I find that alot - I'll say something out loud that a British person would never say. Ok, it could be argued that I say alot of stuff out loud that any normal person wouldn't say. But its especially true over here. One of two things is bound to happen - I will tone it down and become more "British"... or I will get deported.

Really hoping for that first one.
Federman out.

Finger Lickin' Good

2010-01-28T17:04:00.000Z

Mood: Rambuctious
Theme Song: "Chicken Dance" - ?

So at about 4pm every day we all go alittle crazy here at the office. Today's topic somehow found its way to discussing the infamous British Chicken Licker. Check it out. This is from September of last year, but it still hilariously disturbing in so many ways.

Time for Another Revolution, Methinks

2010-01-27T11:22:00.000Z

Mood: Fiesty
Theme Song: "I Fought the Law" - The Clash

Sadly, I fought the SkyTV this morning and they won. :( A week or so ago I went online to order my cable, phone and internet from Sky. I completed the online form and received a couple emails informing me that my installation date was on the 27th. There was some gobbedlygook in there about my phone being installed in February but I didn't quite understand it - and me being me, didn't really read it all that closely. Fast forward to this morning when the nice Sky TV installation man shows up. And installs just my cable. No phone, no internet. Now, he was very nice and very cute (though he ruined things by telling me that "the wife" also loves Lost and will be recording it, too) so I was very nice to him. Instead I called Sky customer care, and after navigating automated hell and putting in my phone number, post code, birthday and blood type, got through to a woman who sounded like Sean Connery after a weeklong bender. She informed me that it would take up to 3 weeks for me to be assigned a phone number - and then two weeks after that for me to get my broadband "rooter" (router) so I could be online. I expressed my extreme displeasure at this but apparently this is the kind of customer service they offer. I asked to speak to her supervisor and she put me on hold for about 10 minutes, at which point I just hung up and tried again. Went through the same automated hell and this time I was lucky enough to get Mumbai. I swear I think I got that call centre from Slumdog Millionaire. This guy - "Harold" - made me verify my name, address, birthday and phone number all over again. He also was absolutely no help. I explained that my main frustration was that I have already been charged for my phone installation. I equated the situation to me charging him for a meal that I planned to feed him in approximately 3-5 weeks. I don't think he got the analogy, as he kept repeating the exact same information to me over and over again. I really think he was reading from some sort of manual (Chapter 7, "Dealing with Angry Americans"). So I got frustrated and hung up.

Long story short is there's no winning against British bureaucracy. I feel like I'm living in the Soviet bloc or something - a month for a damn phone line!! But in talking to my coworkers, this is normal, as everything has to go through BT (British Telephone) and they are a monopoly. Seems they haven't had the great Baby Bell shake up over here yet. But if I have anything to do with it, there is going to be a riot this decade!!! ;)

Federman out.

P.S. - Got the best postcard ever in the mail. It's from a local service called "Liquid Friends of Canterbury". Seems I've got an alcohol delivery service in my town. Not only will they bring me all the beer/wine/spirits I may need at, say, 11:30pm on a Thursday, but they will also provide toilet tissue, napkins and a variety of snacks. Great for when I'm too lazy to walk to the Tesco but find myself in desperate need of a bottle of vodka and some Cheese & Onion flavoured crisps. Sometimes, this country is indeed great.

Internet at Home, T Minus 1 Day

2010-01-26T16:16:00.000Z

Mood: Frazzled
Theme Song: "Crazy" - Gnarls Barkley

Work is going crazy right now - so much to do, so little time! I have never had a job where I've been so busy and so responsible for so many things. Its alot of fun, but I'm uncovering so many cultural landmines in the differences between how Americans and the British communicate. I mean I know I'm loud and annoying - but over here I think I am ESPECIALLY loud and annoying. The stereotype about the British reserve is so true. To be clear, its not that they are all quiet or act like the Queen all the time. I know many people over here who are very crazy but its in a different way. Its really hard to explain. It's just not in the British DNA to complain or to object or to do any of those things I normally consider to be jolly good fun.

I was listening to BBC Radio on the way to work this morning and there were two guys debating a political issue (like a point/counterpoint kind of thing) and they were disagreeing. But rather than talking over one another on American radio and cursing like I'm used to, they were so civilized. "Pardon me, mate"; "No, no, you go ahead". Hilarious!

So last night I had to return a few things to the ASDA (British Wal-mart) and I spent a good 15 minutes looking for plastic silverware. Or as its been explained to me by the Brits "cutlery" (they don't like me saying plastic silverware since they think its nonsensical). I could not find any! I had to beg a spork from the One Stop store yesterday for something to eat my lunch with because our kitchen doesn't have any silverware, plastic or otherwise, in it. We're in a new building, but we just got a microwave after much complaining. But the microwave had to be safety-tested (!!!) and we got explicit instructions on how to use it properly. I'm not kidding. The Brits are wayyy safety conscious.

Oh, and today they were showing photos from the department Christmas party. I missed it becasue I was in Seattle. Apparently one of the gifts given out was a "willy warmer"... and its exactly what you think it is. Yep. While the British are very reserved, they also have a very colourful sense of humour. And put "u"s in lots of words unnecessarily. ;)

Ok, back to work. I get interwebs at home tomorrow morning - yay!!! And Sky TV, so I can watch LOST. I can't wait!

More later... Cheers!

Un-Lazy Sunday

2010-01-24T18:47:00.000Z

Mood: Relaxed
Theme Song: "Ante Up" - Busta Rhymes feat M.O.P. (just because I like this song)
On the Telly: Glee Marathon on Channel 4 - right now its the episode where the Acafellas meet Josh Groban - and Josh Groban loves a blowsy alcoholic. ;)

After a wee bit of a lie-in this morning (British for sleeping in), I got up around 10. I managed to take a shower without injuring myself, which was a great start to the day. Since it takes about 5 hours in total to wash and "dry" my sheets, I stripped the bed and popped them into the washer/dryer first thing. After giving the kitchen floor a much-needed mop and realizing that the reason why there are waterspots everywhere is because I live in an area with VERY hard water, I decided to head out and explore Canterbury town. Thus far, I've only walked to the area around the bank and Tesco - I wanted to just wander aimlessly around to get the feel of the area.

It was a beautiful day for walking. Although it was a bit chilly outside, the sun was out and shining. Oh, how I have missed sunshine! I wandered around for about four hours in total, stopping to pick up a few things.

Oxfam Bookstore - a really neat and unusual little gift for my sister. Her birthday is Tuesday, and since she may read this, I'm not going to post what it is until after she gets it. I had a great conversation with the guy who was working there about his trip to North Carolina. He apparently experienced some problems because he didn't wear shoes. He made a comment to the effect that "it's not like I had any choice" - which I chose not to explore. I really didn't want to know why he felt he had no choice but to run around NC barefoot and British.
Noa Noa (www.noanoareigate.com/) - an awesome Danish clothing and accessories store. I picked up something for my sister as well as an awesome ring for myself (it was only 13 GBP! Oh, and for those of you who don't know, GBP = Great Britain pounds. I haven't figured out how to get the actual pound sign into the blog yet).
Monsoon (www.monsoon.co.uk/) - they had a 70% off sale and so I picked up a really pretty floral bra/underwear set for 12 GBP. Those of you who've known me for awhile will understand why this was so freaking exciting for me to do.
The Works (www.theworks.co.uk/) - this is a discount bookstore, and I was able to pick up the manuals I need to start studying for my UK driving license. And let me just say this crap looks hard. I can drive on my American license (along with my International Driving Permit I got from AAA) for 1 year, but I'm going to start studying NOW since I've heard that the UK tests are super hard. Apparently they put you on a hill in a manual and make you drive halfway, stop, and then continue along without stalling out or rolling too far backwards. Stuff like that makes me sweat just thinking about it. Especially given my rolling-down-the-hill accident in downtown Seattle (*wherein I was driving up a hill, had to stop a red light, and stupidly freaked out when the light turned green. I had a 6 speed and instead of putting the car in 1st gear I kept putting it into reverse - and then not understanding why I kept going backwards. The more this happened, the more freaked out I got, until I was in a real tizzy. It got worse when this van pulled up behind me. I tried to signal that they needed to get in the next lane and get out of my way, but they just sat there and honked their horn. I got pissed and decided to just get the hell out of there - and promptly went backwards. Their car wasn't damaged at all, but the back of mine got a really nice dent in the shape of a license plate. The bright side was that the van was chock full (and I'm talking packed in like sardines) of various persons who no habla the ingles, and they wanted nothing to do with exchanging any kind of paperwork or involving any kind of authorities. Seriously, I never thought I'd see a minivan burn rubber like that up a hill.)

I stopped at the Marks & Spencer Cafe for a quick bite around 3pm. While there were a few chicken options on the menu, there was also weird stuff like Prawn & Avocado sandwich, something called a Cheddar Ploughmans, a dish called Scrummy Pie and the requisite Egg Mayonnaise with Watercress. I played it safe and got a steak sandwich on ciabatta, hold the mayonnaise. After pulling off 80% of the bread, I discovered it wasn't too bad.

I have been looking into getting a UK mobile phone, but I haven't been able to figure out how to get the best deal for international calls. It's not like it is in the US where you can buy plans that give you unlimited international calling. They charge you per minute - as much as 20p (cents) per minute in some cases. I did find out that if I buy a UK mobile, it is free if someone calls me (no matter where they are) as long as I am within the UK. If I'm in Europe/Asia/Australia/Canada/US and my phone rings, roaming charges apply. Also, there's no plan I can get that gives me unlimited text messages. Again, if I'm in the UK, I can receive unlimited ones for free, and send them for free to UK numbers, but it will cost to send to anyone outside the UK. I'm a bit confused by it all, frankly. Why can't there just be one "worldwide" number system with a "worldwide" plan? Make it 14 numbers or something, and then no matter where you are, there's a flat rate for someone to call/text you. It was funny talking to the salespeople because they kept talking about a "tarriff", and I kept thinking they meant a tax. But in the UK, tarriff is just a charge. So what we would call our monthly rate (for our cell phone plans), they would call a tarriff.

On the way back home, I stopped off at one of the local hair salon - www.rush.co.uk/salons/canterbury - to make an appointment to get my 'fro cut. It's getting a bit unruly and I'm starting to look like Sideshow Bob again. I am so excited because the salon closest to me is a Kerastase Salon, and I'm addicted to their products. They are pricey but I have not found anything else that is so good for my hair. I struck up a conversation with the two guys at the appointment desk - one is from Portugal and has been to California and Key West, and the other is British but who has been to Houston because his mom used to live there.

Something I've found is that as soon as people hear my accent they ask "Where are you from?" - and by that, they usually mean what state in the U.S. am I from. And then after I tell them, they proceed to tell me how much they love America and what places they've been to. I've been surprised by how many Brits have been to Texas, of all places. In terms of absolute culture shock, I can't think of a more jarring place for a British person to go - well, except maybe the Deep, Deep South. I mean the UK is all about small spaces, old buildings, stiff upper lip and all that. Texas is all about being big, new and owning AND USING a firearm. LOL.

On the subject of my accent, I've been told several times that I don't "sound American". I don't know if its because I have a habit of adapting my speech patterns to my environment (i.e. speaking more quickly when in New England, slowing down when in the south) but it seems there's some danger of me returning to the U.S. sounding like Madonna. Regarding this, I'm torn. Yes, I think it would be fun to have an "international" accent that confuses people and marks me as a world traveler. However, since being over here I find myself feeling fiercly patriotic towards my home country - and I almost want to wear my accent like a badge of pride.

As in Hell Yes, I'm American! From the land of the free, home of the brave! I'm from a country where mayonnaise is OPTIONAL! Where toilets only have one flusher! (*in the UK and Europe, toilets have two buttons - a big one for #1, a small one for #2. One gives a shallow flush, the other one a deep one. Saving the water and the earth and all that) Where roads have clear signage and streetlights! Where expressing your displeasure is almost a national sport! Where we know how to say "vitamin" (over here they say vitt-a-min". To quote something my brother learned in 2nd grade, the "i" does not say its name). Where bubble and squeak are two separate things - and in no way represent food! Yes, world, you can thank us Americans for such great things as - high fructose corn syrup! McDonald's! Rampant obesity! Telemarketing! QVC!

And with that, I am signing off. Just noticed that "The Terminal" is on BB2. You know, sometimes I feel like Tom Hanks in that movie. Although I'm still waiting to find an airport that clean, well-lit and friendly.

Toad in the Hole

2010-01-23T19:21:00.000Z

Mood: Sore
Theme Song: "Crash" - Dave Matthews Band
On the Telly: UK version of "So You Think You Can Dance"

Woke up this morning to cold, drizzly rain. I had to run some errands and so I did what I normally do every morning, and took a shower. However, at the end of said shower, I got the bright idea to try to reach for a towel that was at the very end of the towel warming rack. My shower is half-glassed in - there's a glass "wall" that swings open if needed. What I was trying to do was open the door and reach out for the towel while still in the shower. Well, I overextended and slipped. There was nothing to grab onto (but the smooth glass) and so slippy slidey down I went, smacking the top of my stomach on the edge of the tub. Which did not feel especially good. Frankly, as I lay there in the tub, heart pounding, I was just thankful that I hadn't hit my head on anything. I'm sure someone from work would have checked on me if they hadn't heard from me by Monday, but that wouldn't really be helpful if I was dying in my bathtub. So I've promised myself to be much, much more careful.

After all that excitement, I gathered up several bags of trash and cardboard to take to my local Rubbish Tip (www.canterbury.gov.uk/buildpage.php?id=1735). I think I've explained that trash pick-up is not like it is in the U.S. You can't just put whatever by the side of the road and hope for the best. They alternate trash and recycling pick-up every other week. Therefore, if you have alot of trash (like I do, from boxes and whatnot), then you need to load it up and take it to the rubbish centre. After doing that, I decided to check out my local TK Maxx.

Yes, you read correctly. It is T"K" Maxx, not TJ. I'm not sure exactly why - as its the exact same store (same logo, same layout, same stuff basically) - but I think it has something to do with copyright or some such. Anyway, they had some pretty good stuff in there. I got a great cheap picture to hang on the wall, a can opener, a container to hold my rice, and other associated home stuffs. Which brings me to

Weird Moments in Britain #1: The store charged me 6p (basically six cents) per shopping bag. When I expressed my complete and utter amazement at gouging one's customers this way, I was told that "using bags kills the environment" and "in the UK, we care about the earth". (I'm not making this up) Had I known that they were such tree-huggers at the TK Maxx, I would have brought my carry bag with me!

I then visited my buddies at Argos, where I had to return a couple shoe racks I bought. They were wood and self-assemble, but they were made of compeltely untreated and un-sanded wood, and just opening the top of one package gave me three splinters last night. While there, I picked up a dustbuster. We now come to

Weird Moments in Britain #2: British people drive like nothing I've ever seen before. Even in Boston. Not only are the "car parks" (parking lots) designed for some bizarre miniature race of people with super tight corners and extremely small parking spots, but the British people driving in them show a complete and utter disregard for all the other cars around them. I was driving down one of the lanes and this lady just pulls out right in front of me. Doesn't look my way, doesn't seem fazed that THERE IS A CAR IN THE SPACE WHERE SHE IS TRYING TO DRIVE. Just ignored every traffic law I know including all known laws of physics. Now, I would normally chalk this up to her just being a jackass. However, this has happened to me in every car park I've been in. So, to anyone British reading this - am I crazy? Is there some super secret code of how to drive in a parking lot that makes it okay to just pull out at will? I'm dying to know.

Driving over here has been especially trying for me. I've mastered the fact that I'm on the other side of the road. Check, got that. I'm about 75% to understanding the rules of a roundabout - I'm still totally confused about what signal to put on. I know to put on the left one if I'm exiting immediately out of the roundabout. However, what if I'm taking the 2nd exit? If I put my right-hand turn signal on, then those people waiting to enter at the 2nd exit think I'm continuing on around. If I put on my left-hand signal then the people behind me think I'm getting off at the 1st exit. Basically I just pick one at random and hope for the best. Oh, and I bought a Learner Driver sign to put in my window. It's a white box with a big black "L" in it that goes in the back window. So basically I'm going to be motoring around the UK with a big old Loser sign on my car. Niiiice. But its better than my original plan which was to put an American flag in the window with the words, "Back off! I'm used to REAL roads". That probably would have gotten my car egged, keyed or worse ;)

Weird Moments in Britain #3: Road markings. I don't know how to explain this. You know how in the U.S. sometimes on the road itself it says "School Zone"? But there's ALSO a sign on the side of the road saying "School Zone", too? Well, over here its like a game of Pictionary, but on the road. An example - sometimes, at a side road (like a T junction), there are these weird yellow diagonal markings on the road. After several times of cursing people out and honking profusely, I was told by a nice British colleague that these lines mean that you can't stop there. So basically if I'm in traffic, and we're at a standstill or moving slow, its just like blocking an intersection in the U.S. - you don't do it. I didn't know this and cars were just pulling out in front of me at random since in British law, if there's nobody in the yellow box, you are free to go. But there's no sign explaining this, EXCEPT the markings on the road. And, while when I am driving I do look at the road, I'm not exactly planning on READING it!

I got back to the flat and made myself a PB&J. I managed to find "Chunky Peanut Butter" at the Morrison's. It's not bad, but its nothing like JIF. It's like peanut butter lite or something. I then grabbed my carry bags and walked into town. On my way there, I passed a woman and her young daughter who had apparently stopped and decided to take her shoes off for some reason. The woman was screaming at the girl, "It puts its shoes on NOW!". I literally paused in the sidewalk, wondering if Buffalo Bob was near. I wonder if when the girl goes home she has to put the lotion in the basket or else she gets the hose?

The town was pretty hopping, people everywhere. I've come to the conclusion that no matter where you are in the world, old people jack up roads and grocery stores. They can't drive and they insist on stopping smack dab in the middle of an aisle in the store and looking confused. My new favorite store is Wilkinson's. They have EVERYTHING. Well, not clothes, but everything else. And its pretty cheap, too. I got two great lamps for my bedroom for 5GBP each. And some nails and screws, and things like toilet paper holders and such. But I think I'm finally done buying things for the flat. The only thing I'd love to have is a glass coffee table, but its not a necessity. The bed for my second bedroom should be coming in the next few weeks, so I'll be all set for visitors come the end of February. :) Oh crap, I just realized I forgot an extension cord. *D'oh*!

I stopped at the Starbucks in Canterbury just to check it out, and they passed muster. However, instead of a "non-fat no-whip tall Hot Chocolate", I got just a "skinny hot chocolate". I don't think the UK has the 87 versions of skim milk that we have. Something else I noticed is that they used real mugs there for people who were drinking the coffee in the store. They also have way different things in the goodie case. Yes, there are cookies and croissants, but also scones and some kind of marshmallows on a stick covered with chocolate and caramel and other stuff.

Hmmm... watching this UK SYTYCD, I've come to the conclusion that America needs to start packaging dance moves and rhythm and selling it abroad. These people need da funk, man. This disco dance I'm watching is like it was sponsored by Wonder Bread, its so white. Sheesh!

Oh, and earlier, I caught a bit of the pre-show for the Brit Awards 2010. It was so interesting and different to see all the nominations and most were people that I hadn't ever heard of... and that I couldn't really understand why they are popular. Dizzee Rascal, Lily Allen, Coldplay, Duffy - ok I get those. But things like Girls Aloud? N-Dubz? Robbie Williams? Makes my head hurt!!!

Weird Moments in Britain #4: The Food. Can I just say that I cannot find certain things I really, really miss? If anyone wants to send a care package, I will not turn the following away... I'm going to try to order some of this stuff online, too.

REAL Balsamic Vinaigrette. I miss Newman's Own Light Balsamic Vinaigrette like nobody's business. I bought some BV over here, but its horribly sweet and thick. Eugh.
American Instant Oatmeal. I bought Quaker Oats over here but it has absolutely no flavor. Or flavour. It was like eating mushy cardboard.
Vigo Black Beans and Rice mix. I used to live off this stuff. Cheap, filling and GOOOOOD. And so easy to make after a long day at work. Sometimes I'd throw in some roasted pork or chicken.
Amy's Vegetarian Black Bean soup. Mmmmm.... good.
Tri-color rotini pasta. Haven't seen it anywhere here. Oh, and egg noodles. American egg noodles. The ones they call egg noodles over here look more like fettucine or something.
JIF Reduced Fat Chunky Peanut Butter
And its not food, but I can't find Crest Pro-White toothpaste. :(
If you send me any American food, please include a box of LUCKY CHARMS and as many bags of CHEETOS as you can get in the box without ruining them. These are for my co-workers and I will pay you for them.

I was going to go out tonight and have dinner at this local wine bar - but I'm leaning towards a quiet night in. I'm not sure if I'm up to facing the locals just yet. I want to get out and meet people, but I'm all bruised up and sore. I don't know if that would make the best impression. And since I've been running all day, I'd have to shower again and I'm still a bit wary of that place... ;)

Federman out.

Happy as Larry

2010-01-22T22:55:00.000Z

Mood: Exhausted
Theme Song: "Why" - Annie Lennox

I'm super glad that this week is over, as it was very trying. I am having major I.T. issues at work, and so I spent most of the week frustrated and annoyed. First my cell phone wasn't working. Then my wireless internet thing (they call it a "dongle" over here; I have trouble saying that because it sounds like manly parts) refused to work all week. Despite the IT guy calling Orange (the service provider) about 10 times, the problem didn't get fixed until this afternoon. It was frustrating because I have work to do coming out of my ears, and I really wanted to work from home today so I could function without distractions.

This week was also challenging simply because I was still buying things for my apartment and lugging them in, putting them together, etc. I think I am finally done with all that, and aside from needing some pictures on the walls and decorative touches, I have pretty much everything I need. The apartment finally has a sort of personality and feels like it is "mine". It feels good - no more sterile hotel environment! Now, if I could stop running into everything in my path, things would go alot better.

I finally got my PIN number for my UK debit card, which means I actually have access to my money. Which is awesome. And the Sky TV people come on Wednesday morning to set up my cable and internet. I ordered a home phone, but I have to wait for the beginning of February to get that for some reason. It may comfort my American friends to know that they pull that "We will install your service sometime between 8am and 1pm" crap over here, too.

And now the reason for the title of this short entry. I was in a meeting today and was told that doing something would make me "happy as Larry". I don't know who Larry is, and neither did the speaker. Must just be a crazy British saying. Another one I heard was "all talk and no trousers". Which is pretty funny.

I have to remember not to say things like "my pants are all wet" when coming in from the rain, as the Brits think I'm talking about my underwear. And if that is all wet, I've got some big problems. LOL

This country is more security conscious than anything I've ever seen. I bought something tonight, and because my signature didn't exactly match what was on the back of my credit card, there was a big to-do wherein the manager had to come over, and I had to show my driver's license and my passport - and then sign my name again, just to make sure it was really me. As if that weren't bad enough, I come home to find a letter from my bank saying they received my request to automatically debit my rent each month - BUT because the signature on the request does not exactly match the signature card they have on file for me, I have to come into the bank and show ID to get things moving.

Question for any British people reading this - did y'all have a rash of identity theft or something? I mean, you guys take this stuff to a new extreme. I'm surprised I don't have to give blood and get my DNA typed when I buy something - although I shouldn't give people any ideas.

Oh, and another odd thing. I heard on the radio today that this woman who committed benefits fraud - basically she collected 13,000 GBP more than she was supposed to because she didn't let them know her circumstances had changed - anyway, she got busted. Her punishment? A curfew. Yes, you read right. Not repayment. Not jail. Not a swift kick in the arse. Nope. Her punishment is that she cannot leave her house between 6pm and 6am or some such weirdness. But how do they know she didn't spend some of that stolen money to set up a kick-ass home entertainment system? And so every night she is just working her way through movies on demand, and stacks of DVDs and whatnot? They also didn't say anything about visitors, so if it were me I would just invite people over all the time.

This country is continuously entertaining.

Vive La France!

2010-01-21T08:56:00.000Z

Mood: Still wired
Theme Song: "Quelqu'un M'a Dit" - Carla Bruni (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rd4-sIRXRH4) - and if you're interested and want to know what the wife of the French president is saying - http://nichitastanescu.wordpress.com/2007/04/05/quelquun-ma-dit-carla-bruni-translation/.

I'm currently in Paris for a conference of intensive care physicians (http://www.srlf.org/). Can I just say that I love Paris? Anyone who knows me knows that I am a complete Francophile, and so for me coming to France is always exciting. I took the Eurostar over yesterday, and ended up sitting with quite a cast of characters. My seatmates included:

A Scottish guy with a very posh, upper-crust British accent. You could tell he either came from money or spent alot of time trying to sound like it. I didn't hear a trace of Sean Connery, though he did have to tell me that he knew someone or other who golfed with Sean, and that he is a hell of a golfer. Thus giving me an image of Mr. Connery in a kilt holding a 5 iron. Great. This guy also spoke French "fluently and without an accent" (as he assured me), and lived with his Russian wife and kids in the Languedoc in France. He mostly watched Dexter on his PC and stayed out of the conversation, though he did piss me off by asking me why the Republicans were trying to ruin America. He, like many people I've met outside the U.S., seemed to think that all people who were conservative were crazed Bible beaters. And he was shocked that I was not an Obama devotee. I'm young! I'm smart! I travel! How can I not love the Obamanation? The fact that I tend to have conservative leanings shocked him, as I guess he then expected me to be toothless, carrying around unwashed children and spouting the gospel of Jay-sus.
A British guy from London (with the distinctive London accent -where the "th"s become "f"s or "v"s. As in "I fink my brovver-in-law..."). He was super cool. He and his family live in a small village a few hours south of Paris. He used to work as an interior designer (though this guy was the farthest thing from effeminate I ever saw) but retired. So I'm guessing he decorated a few castles and made a killing or something. He had struck up a conversation with the Scottish guy when they boarded the train in London, although Mr. Scotland kept mocking Mr. London's bad French pronounciation. Oh, and Mr. London informed me that Scotland really isn't a separate country. It's Britain. Only Americans want to make that distinction. It seems the Brits believe that unless there's water separating it from them, they own it. Wonder what would happen if the Channel suddenly dried up (a la nightmares of Al Gore)? Would all of Europe, by default, then belong to England because its connected? Interesting to consider. This guy was really nice though and we had a few laughs about the difference between America and UK - and how while it was madness for me to get my UK visa, its near impossible for people to get into America. Unless they are Mexican, students from some strange terrorist country or have family in America.
A lovely older Japanese woman who seemed a bit confused for much of the conversation. She obviously had money, as she lives near Hyde Park in London (a bit like overlooking Central Park in NYC). She regaled us with stories of her travels around the world - all in a very entertaining British/Japanese accent. She spent about 15 minutes telling us about her seat-mixup. You know how older people are. They fixate on one topic and then beat it to death. That being said, she was pretty funny and gave me some good places to visit when I'm in Japan in March.

I arrived in Paris at Gare du Nord, which is sheer madness chock full of people roaming everywhere. I was going to take the Metro to the hotel, but it takes about an hour with all the changes and it was pouring rain. So I got into the taxi queue - which took at least 30 minutes for me to get through. What I love is that I can pop into a taxi and speak French and get myself around. I know enough of the layout of the city to know when someone is trying to scam me and not take a direct route. Its great. I don't feel so awkward, like I did in Germany.

I went to a symposium on Tracheostomy yesterday afternoon. There was a bit of a mix-up and I didn't get the headphones that have automatic translation in them - so I got to hear everything in French. What pleased me is that I understood about 95% of all the presentations. There were a few terms - obviously medical - that I didn't know, but I got the overall gist of things.

Dinner was at a restaurant in Montparnasse called "Le Ciel de Paris" - bascially The Sky of Paris. It was a restaurant at the top of a business tower with a panoramic view of the entire city. Gorgeous. Did you know that every hour on the hour, the lights on the Tour Eiffel sparkle like a crazed Christmas tree? There are different colors each hour, and they symbolize different things. In 2008, they cycled through the colors of the EU to celebrate France's presidency of that organization. Last year there were huge light shows to celebrate the Tower's 120th anniversary. I didn't take the following picture (it is courtesy of http://charmcitykim.wordpress.com/2010/01/15/the-lights-of-the-eiffel-tower/), but this is what it looked like last night:

I also got to try Foie Gras last night for the first time. It was served with bread and some kind of fruit chutney. All I can say is... interesting. I didn't dislike it, but I also wasn't scarfing it down like the rest of the people at the table. I kept thinking "duck liver, duck liver, duck liver". It didn't help! I'm pretty sure that this is something that I'm not going to suddenly start craving any time soon.

I'm off to a tour the exhibition and then have a business lunch before returning on the train to the UK this afternoon. As the French would say, "Bon journee!" (Have a good day!)

***IMPORTANT MESSAGE FOR MY LEFT-LEANING FRIENDS***
According to EVERY British person I've spoken to, the U.K. is having huge problems because it is "too soft". This country has more social programs than anything I've ever seen. So much of the tax money goes to support people who game the system. That "wonderful" amnesty program that the Obamanation wants to offer the ILLEGALS from Mexico? Yeah well they have that over here and it has resulted in loads of foreigners pouring into the UK to take advantage of all the free social programmes. All someone has to do is get across the border and claim "human rights" (which covers everything from "I'm poor", "I don't like my home country", "I don't speak English", etc) and they get a FREE house to live in, a FREE cell phone, FREE food and transportation, FREE healthcare and a monthly check courtesy of the people who actually work for a living.

What's interesting is that a table full of French people shared basically the same view with me last night - how upset they are that their taxes are paying for this kind of "merde" (shit). The French are taxed like nobody's business - worse than the Brits even.

I'm not against helping the disavantaged. But I am against rewarding criminals who have no respect for the American system. If you want to immigrate, then by all means do it. Legally. And if you want social services (regardless of whether you are an American citizen or a foreigner), I don't mind helping you. Everyone gets down on their luck sometimes. But don't abuse the system. Don't expect me to pay for your bad lifestyle choices (i.e. you're grossly overweight and have health problems. Not my fault, put down the fork. Or you had a baby at 16. Not my fault, exercise some class and discretion - and for goodness sake, don't have MORE babies you can't afford to raise.).

Yeah, I'm on a soapbox. It's just that America tends to idealize the socialist trends in Europe as if they are so great. Some things are not bad - I like the programmes they have for the elderly (they need more) and the disabled. And I do like that there is help for people who are really struggling. But its gotten to the point over here that the inmates are running the asylum. Every shify foreigner knows that if they can set foot on UK soil, they have a really good chance of a free ride because the British are so terrified of violating "human rights" or seeming insensitive or politically incorrect.

And the supposedly great healthcare system over here? I've yet to try it - though I have seen two co-workers wait a few days to be able to schedule a doctor's appointment. Nothing too alarming yet - but I want to see the actual quality of care. It turns out that the class-based system we in America want to avoid is alive and well over here. Anyone can get NHS care (just like in the US anyone can go to the free clinic, even though they don't like it) - but those with money purchase private plans where they get timely, superior healthcare. Guess which direction I'm leaning? I'm not rich, but as L'Oreal would say, "I'm worth it".

Comments welcome, as well as donations for my eventual run for President ;)

Why England Needs Wal-Mart

2010-01-21T08:15:00.000Z

Mood: Wired
Theme Song: "Les Poissons" - The Little Mermaid (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XuuEDDyvzuE). I think of this song everytime I'm in France

Not having working internet at home is really putting a dent in my blogging life. I have so many things that I have been wanting to share but its really hard to get internet access outside of work. Because there is so much and its so varied, I'm just going to bullet point my observations below:

English roads are madness at night. I now know why they are so uber-strict on "drink driving". There are no streetlights on the roads! Driving down an English road at night is a bit like entering your own version of Sleepy Hollow. It's sort of okay if you can use your high beams, but if there is oncoming traffic, then prepare to be confused, disoriented, blinded and half in the grass on the side of the road. I asked at work how people manage this and the general response was "We don't know. We just drive and hope for the best." Brilliant.
Yesterday, on my way to the train station, the main road I was on was closed. Thank god for my GPS system which directed me to "turn left at The Road" (it literally said "The Road"). Fearing I was about to enter some post-apocalyptic madness (but hoping to see a dirty Viggo Mortenson that I could possibly bathe), I entered "The Road". Which turned out to be a meandering country lane. That was fine, except for there was either a wall on the side of the road, or pens filled with sheep. And the road was only big enough technically for 1.5 small British cars. But there was 2-way traffic. Now THAT was fun. I used up all my known British curse words either telling the sheep to back off, and stop eyeballing me - or yelling at the British drivers going 40-50mph down a country lane designed for a horse and buggy. By the time I turned back onto the main road, I was grateful to see the normal roundabouts. Which is saying something.
Dry cleaning here is a rip-off. Two shirts (laundered), a sweater and a suit. Guess how much? 20 GBP (or basically about $35 USD). I am thinking of setting up my own dry cleaning business in my spare bedroom. I can offer better prices and probably marginally cleaner clothes if I could smuggle in an American washing machine and dryer... and Dryel. Oh, Dryel, how I miss thee...
The grocery store is weird. Maybe it was just the three I've been in so far (Ashford Sainsbury's and Canterbury Morrison's and Canterbury ASDA) but nothing is where it should be! Rather, its not where I'm used to it being. So while I have a shopping list, it takes me ages to get everything into the damn trolley (cart). I spent a good 15 min trying to find peanut butter, only to be sorely disappointed by the offerings. I have heard that if I go to Waitrose, which is an upscale grocery store, I can get "American food". Which to me means the following food that I could not find:

Newman's Own Light balsamic vinaigrette (they had Newman's Italian, but no BV)
Black beans
That cool mix of black beans and rice that costs about $2 and feeds you for about a week
Chunky peanut butter
Real popping corn (you know, for the stove)
Corn in a can that is not "sweet" or "salted"
Amy's Black Bean Soup (yeah, I'm pushing it here I know)
Crest toothpaste (seems they have every brand but Crest)

I hate to say it but my town needs a Wal-Mart (or better yet, a Target). There is something called an ASDA, which is owned by the Wal-Mart evil kindgom of darkness. But its like a mini-mini Wal-Mart. There are lots of groceries, but the other part - the one thats usually chock-full of impulse buy goodness and things like laundry baskets and kitchen appliances and containers and towels and sheets and other home goods type stuff - is depressingly small.

I've had a crazy time just finding necessary things for my apartment - like storage containers and toilet paper holders. It's weird. In the US, I'd just go to Target and have at it. Not so much over here.

I'm looking forward to a weekend in town where I'm not unpacking or trying to exorcise demons from a washer/dryer. My planned adventures include:

Getting spare keys made. This is done at the shoe repair shop. So while I'm there, I have a pair of shoes to get fixed that I'm going to take. Lets see what British cobblers are made of!
Figuring out how to transfer money from my UK bank account to my U.S. bank account to pay my credit card and student loan bills. It's supposed to be easy, but I'm not convinced.

Hoping the PIN number for my UK debit card has arrived. All the cards here have this weird chip thingy. In order to use them, you insert into a machine and enter a PIN. Even the credit cards have this. Well, I got my actual card, but the PIN is sent separately "for my security". I don't see the problem in giving my PIN to me directly but the Brits are super security conscious.
Ordering my spare bed and associated stuff from Argos (check it out at http://www.argos.co.uk/). They have a big sale on and I want to make sure I take advantage.
Figuring out how to program my Universal Remote Control. Super easy, my arse. Been messing with that "Magic" button for 4 days now!!!

All Kinds Of Hullaboo

2010-01-19T09:50:00.000Z

Mood: Cheery
Theme Song: "Breathe Me" - Sia (don't have a good reason for this one, other than I like the song and since it was used at the end of Six Feet Under, it signifies a journey in my mind)

It's been several days since I've had a chance to update this, and I have so much to share! I need to start carrying around a small notebook - a la 1940's journalists - to record all my thoughts.

The Flat

I've successfully moved into my flat (yay!). Hiring the man with a van was a definite good idea. We ended up with two guys - one named Ian, the other nameless (never got his name). Nameless had a mouthful of protruding, rotten teeth. I'm serious. He was like the poster child for bad British teeth. And he was also really a cheery guy, so he smiled. Alot. Ian was the son of the Transport company's owner (Peter) and he was quite funny. He was a nice looking guy, save for the fact that a good 80% of his body was covered in what looked like gang-affiliated tattoos. I could be wrong, since I don't know about such things in the UK, but I can't think of a good reason to tattoo a huge number on your forearm unless its affiliated with something. Anyway they were really nice and did a great job of getting my boxes all into my flat with minimal fuss. They also installed my washer/dryer. Sort of. (More on that later)

I spent this past weekend unpacking boxes and digging out all my stuff. Somewhere between Boston and the UK I've lost my makeup brushes, but everything else seems to have arrived damage-free. Including all of my shoes :) !!! Oh shoes, how I have missed thee... Here are some things I learned this weekend:

Rubbish is taken very seriously over here. Each week they either put out trash or recycling. (This coming week I believe its trash). For recycling, there are these big plastic bags that you use - these can be picked up free of charge at the local city council office.
If you have extra trash - like oodles of boxes from moving in, for example - you don't just put it out at the curb and hope for the best. Oops, I'm sorry. It's called the "kerb" over here. You take it to the local rubbish tip. Yep, that's what its called - a "tip". This is a big trash/recycling centre. Its actually pretty cool the way its organized. You pull into this parking lot and on either side are multitudes of dumpsters in different little stations. There's a station for glass. One for Plastic. One for Cardboard. One for Household Waste. You can even bring your old appliances there and they will dispose of them. I can already tell that something like this would be a huge boon to certain rural areas of America. Then people wouldn't need to leave old washing machines and the like on Cletus' front porch anymore.

The Washer/Dryer
As I've explained before, people don't use washing machines and dryers alot over here. This is usually due to space concerns. Personally I think this is proof that Americans are a more civilized society - because who in their right mind wants to spend 4 1/2 hours waiting for ONE load of laundy to wash and "dry"?! (I put dry in quotations because nothing comes out of the washer/dryer fully dry like we're used to in the U.S.; that's right - no more snuggly warm clothing to slip into on cold mornings.)
Anyway, the men with the van were kind enough to hook up my new washer/dryer. They did a great job, because it worked when I ran a test load. The issue came when I tried to wash actual clothes. Everything was fine, and then BANG! BANG! I ran into the kitchen (where the blasted machine is located - its under the counter like a dishwasher) and it was rocking back and forth and making a terrible noise. I read the instructions and surmised that the machine was probably not level. I adjusted the little legs underneath the machine and restarted it. Everything seemed okay - although kind of loud - and so I left to go out to the store. Imagine my surprise when, upon my return, I saw that the damn machine had danced halfway across my kitchen. Luckily it didn't get far enough to pull out the hoses. At this point, I was beside myself. The machine was brand new, and I couldn't understand why it was doing this. I moved it back into position and wedged two pieces of cardboard on either side to stabilize it. About an hour later - BANG! BANG!... and across the room it went. By this point I was nearly in tears. I tried calling the helpline for the product but I was trapped in some automated British phone hell where none of the choices was what I wanted.

This happened on Saturday. Fast-forward to Sunday afternoon. I'm out and about and so I decide to stop by a Comet store (like a Best Buy). I bought my washer/dryer from Comet in Ashford, and so I thought the Comet in Canterbury could help me. I explained my dilemma. At which point the salesman said, "Well, you removed the transport bolts on the back of the machine, right?" Errr.... ummm... probably not. I don't recall the men with the van doing any such thing. I found out that there were bolts securing the drum so that it didn't get banged up while being transported and those had to be removed before use - otherwise the machine would not stabilize, and ultimately, it could be ruined. I asked what I needed to remove the bolts and I was told that any spanner would do. After a bit of back and forth, I figured out that spanner = American wrench. (What the Brits call a wrench is something used only by plumbers for some super-secret plumbing purpose.)
I was able to buy myself a spanner at a local store in Canterbury town and after spending a good 45 minutes cursing and throwing things, I was able to get the bolts off the back of the washer/dryer. (I think its fair to say that I was also supremely proud of myself at this point.)

And? Voila! The washer/dryer works just fine. No bouncing. No dancing. No BANGBANGBANG. Just the normal "silent" mode - which is really a low hum sort of like a wasp's consistent buzzing. Oh, and by "works just fine" I should add that it still takes me 4 hours to wash and dry a set of sheets.

No wonder the Brits drink so much beer. Doing laundry over here is depressing.

More later...

WTF BBC??

2010-01-15T23:22:00.000Z

Mood: Incredulous/amused
Theme Song: *speechless*

Why - WHY - did I flip to BBC 2 and see a black and white clip - obviously from the 60s - of 4 Japanese women with flippy hairdos singing "Can't Buy Me Love"? With accompanying dance moves? (Of course it sounded more like "Can't Buy Me Ruv")

WTF, England?? Who sets up your TV programming? Between this kind of weird sh!t and the Japanese channel (#7), I spend half my TV-watching wondering if someone slipped some acid into my room service.

Ok now some person from the 60s named Sandie is singing "Ticket to Ride" (they are obviously doing some kind of Beatles retrospective) - and this bubble just appeared on the screen - a la Pop Up Video - informing viewers that Sandie had plastic surgery in 1997 to preserve her "iconic feet".

I am not making this stuff up, people.

As I've said before, Austin Powers is making so much more sense. Especially his funny little song/video about "BBC Heaven".

BBC 1!BBC 2!BBC 3!BBC 4!BBC 5!BBC 6!BBC 7!BBC heaven

Last Day in the Hotel (yay!)

2010-01-15T20:08:00.001Z

Mood: Tired
Theme Song: "Movin On Up" - Ja'net DuBois (Theme from "The Jeffersons")

Tonight is my last night in the hotel - I cannot express how pleased I will be to unpack my suitcases and boxes. I remember thinking that living in hotel would be so exciting and glamourous. I think that even if I were in a 5-star penthouse suite, I would still get sick of it. Yes, there's fresh towels and amenities every day but there's no sense of permanence or ownership.

I spent yesterday miserably sick. It must have been a 24-hour virus because I feel sort of okay today, but yesterday was bad news. I won't gross anyone out with the details - I just hope I never have to go through that again. My whole body ached and there were shooting pains all through my stomach. In talking to the hotel staff, it seems a bug of that sort has been making its way around the staff. So I'm sure I picked it up since I have been practically living at the hotel.

My coworkers are awesome. They all knew I was not feeling well and so they moved all my boxes down to the reception area so it would be easy for the movers to transport. Jenny went to Comet and picked up my TV and washer/dryer so that I wouldn't have to wait 2 weeks for delivery, and Emma drove me to and from the flat today since they knew I was feeling all wonky and am confused by British roads.

The end result? All my boxes are in my flat!!! :) I am going to unpack tomorrow and then go to the various stores to get groceries and other things - like lamps, bath mats, etc. I cannot wait to get settled in.

I learned quite a bit today about British driving laws. It seems that Brits have to pay what is called a "car tax" every 6-12 months. Upon payment, they get a round sticker that they put on their windshield. They also have to get MOTs done - unlike our emissions tests, which can be perfunctory at best, this test goes over the functionality of the car. Do the wipers work, do the seatbelts work, are the tyres bald, etc. I told Emma that if we had MOTs in the U.S., half the cars would not be on the road. Seriously! How many times have you seen a car held together with duct tape, plastic, what looks like a jump rope - all kinds of stuff! But apparently in the UK, if your car isn't up to snuff, you're not driving it. Period.

I'm doing much better in my driving. I only made one mistake today. I went to the cash point (ATM) to get money for the movers and when I was turning out of the parking lot, I almost turned left into the right-hand lane. Luckily I caught myself and stopped, reversed and went in the left hand lane. The people at the stoplight behind me were cracking up. I might as well have had a big sign on my head that said "American!!!"

I have two new favorite UK TV shows - 1) Countdown and 2) Eggheads. Both are game shows, but they deal with trivia and wordplay. I don't know how to explain it exactly, so I suggest you Google them if curious. Countdown is especially awesome - and hard. And of course, I'm continuously addicted to Celebrity Big Brother. The highlight of my night last night was when Stephen Baldwin got Alex to pledge his soul to Jesus. Nothing against the Lord at all - but the whole thing just was soooo cheesy. And reminded me while I don't like super evangelical people. Or really anyone who pushes their beliefs/religion/whatever on others. Can't wait to see who gets voted off tonight - I am really hoping for Katia, personally.

Oh, and I learned that grilled cheese is called a "cheese toastie". They don't really understand grilled cheese. Which is hilarious. I had to explain - take some toast, melt some cheese, put some toast on top. Funniest conversations ever. But I did get grilled cheese and tomato soup. Nothing like American - but closer than chili con carne!!!

UK Driving, Part Deux

2010-01-13T20:27:00.000Z

Mood: Tired
Theme Song: "Survivor" - Vanilla Ice

Currently watching today's installment of Celebrity Big Brother. Yes, I'm officially addicted. And I don't care what Stephen Baldwin says, he is on something. That man is insane. I have also developed new respect for Sisquo. I just want to adopt him or something, like a little puppy.

I had another driving adventure today. When I woke up, snow was falling and the roads were wet. I cleared off Le Peugeot and safely navigated my way to work. Except for I took the wrong exit on the second roundabout and found myself driving into a housing estate. I put on my indicator light to turn around but the guy behind me still felt like being a real arsehole and blowing his horn. For the first time in England, I flipped someone the bird - and it felt good. I was like, Yeah! Suck it! Freeeebirrrrrd! LOL

Driving
At lunch, my coworker Jenny served as navigator as I drove to the Comet store. (No, its not a superstore for bathroom cleaning powder - its like a Best Buy or Circuit City). The ride there was fairly uneventful, but I did learn alot about British road signs and how "lane control is key in Britain".

http://www.driving-test-success.com/uk-road-signs.htm

I also learned that when a Brit says "turn right", they don't mean make a 90 degree right turn. They mean bear right in a roundabout. I almost turned directly into incoming traffic due to that wee little misunderstanding. I got to drive on the motorway (the M20) and I swear it felt like that scene in Clueless where Dionne (the lovely Stacey Dash) accidentally drives on the highway and they all think they're going to die. It wasn't that bad, but it was as nerve-wracking. There were no near collisions, accidents or incidents though.

On the way back, I learned all about roundabouts - basically don't stop unless you see incoming traffic coming from the right. The Brits don't take kindly to me stopping randomly "just to check things out". Also, the lights here are weird. They go RED - then ORANGE and RED at the same time - then GREEN. And then the opposite. Seeing an orange and red light at the same time was weird. Jenny is a total saint for coming with me, because I would have been SO lost!

Jenny also helped me negotiate great deals on a TV, a washer/dryer, a Hoover (vaccuum), and a Blu Ray player. But more on that later...

P.S. - I have TWO men and a van coming Friday. Yes!!!

Alice in Wonderland - Getting Better Every Day!

2010-01-12T18:36:00.000Z

Not sure if this is a good thing or not, but every day I understand more and more of Lewis Carroll's Alice in Wonderland. And British humor in general.

And after my adventures today, the following excerpt from AIW is especially relevant:

The Knight announces that the name of the song "is called `Haddock's Eyes'" and the following famous conversation ensues:

"Oh, that's the name of the song, is it?" Alice said, trying to feel interested.

"No, you don't understand," the Knight said, looking a little vexed. "That's what the name is called. The name really is `The Aged Aged Man.'"

"Then I ought to have said `That's what the song is called'?" Alice corrected herself.

"No, you oughtn't: that's quite another thing! The song is called `Ways and Means'; but that's only what it's called, you know!"

"Well, what is the song, then?" said Alice, who was by this time completely bewildered.

"I was coming to that," the Knight said. "The song really is `A-sitting On A Gate....

England Made Me Cry, Post Codes and Other Nonsense

2010-01-12T18:25:00.000Z

Mood: Relieved
Theme Song: "You Spin Me Round (Like a Record)" - Dead or Alive (the 86 Version!)

What a day, what a day. I woke up with a horrible stomachache, which I can't help but attribute to the bizarre hotel food - or to the fact that I've pretty much been eating the exact same thing for 8 days now (what the hotel calls - and this is their spelling, not mine - "Chilli-Con-Carne"). That meant I didn't eat breakfast, and not having at least something in the morning makes me grumpy. Plus, when I went downstairs to await my taxi, there was no one at the coffee stand - which means I didn't get my morning tall semi-skimmed decaf latte. :(

Lunch was an adventure. I went over to the Pheasant - a pub/restaurant across the street from our office. Guess what I ordered? Jacket potato with chili con carne! No joke! I tend to stick with things I recognize and that I know are reasonably healthy and tasty. The adventure came when I asked for "sour cream". The waiter brought me something called "salad cream" - which is a DISGUSTING (sorry British people) type of salad dressing. After clarification, I was brought the pub's version of "sour cream and chive dip" - which tasted nothing like sour cream, chives or dip. Even the British person with me was confused.

And now to the latest round of me vs. England, and England is thus far up 2-0. The first loss on my side was due to the fact that I cannot shop online because my credit card has an American billing address. And for my "security", I must present the card in person. Reminds me a bit of the U.S. and the insistance on putting those stupid safety caps on gallons of milk. This second loss involved me doing something as simple as calling a local store and asking for directions from my office.

Sounds simple, right? (insert buzzer sound) *WRONG*!!! I tried Google Maps, Mapquest and Yahoo! Maps before also trying the store's website "Locate a Store" function. For some reason, I was not getting anything - none of them really seemed to recognize the address. I called the store's customer service and explained my predicament. I explained that I was American, new to the UK and so I needed some fairly explicit driving directions. After getting the woman to understand that the website was not working (despite her insistence that it was), she started giving me directions from my postcode. I interrupted her to explain that I didn't want directions from the postcode, I wanted directions from my office - and I gave her the street address. So she then gives me directions again - from my post code. This went on and on (a good 5 minutes) until I finally explained to her that I didn't know what she was talking about and I didn't know the area. She responded in a very snippy voice - "You don't know where you are, you don't know where you're going - you don't know much of all, then, do you?" At which point I hung up on her and started crying.

It was at this point that a co-worker took pity on me and explained UK post codes. Unlike in the states where a zip code represents an entire area or neighborhood (i.e. 98012 is Mill Creek, WA), a post code in the UK refers to the actual building or a small block. The first four characters refer to the overall area - i.e. my post code is TN25 4BF, so the TN25 refers to Ashford, Kent. But the final three characters actually pinpoint the location to street, block and sometimes a building, if the building is large enough. Therefore when the Snippy Lady was giving me directions from my post code, she was giving me directions basically from the office park where my building is. And I had no idea.

It doesn't help that there are 9000 names for the same thing over here. My company is in something called Eureka Park. Which is also Lower Pemberton. Which happens to be on Trinity Road. But the mailing address says nothing about Trinity Road. Madness!

Now, to explain my song choice of the day, let me just say that I have driven, for the first time, on UK roads. And survived. Granted, I went 1.5 miles from the office to the hotel - but I encountered THREE roundy-roundys (roundabouts) and I made it safely through every one. I stayed on my side of the road and aside from looking for a rearview mirror where there was nothing (on my right), I did okay. It was so weird, though. I naturally wanted to veer right and I had to really pay attention so that I didn't accidentally drift.

And finally, in other exciting news, my work friends are helping me hire a "Man with a Van" for moving my boxes on Friday to my flat. The whole thing sounds decidedly like a B-level movie on Cinemax and I can't wait to see the aforementioned man who comes with the van. According to Jenny, he should be a "right burly chap" - but I apparently don't want one from Folkestone because all the men from there "look like frogs" (quote from Louise).