Post-Thanksgiving
In a perfect world, everyone would celebrate being thankful for things. As noted last week, apparently these Brits aren’t thankful a damned thing. Which is fine, except when you have to spend a week hearing about how all of your friends are home with their families for the holiday. Jerks.
And now as American students return to the grindstone refreshed and focused on the end game of finals that is looming in the distance, American students abroad are left wondering where our tank-filling time is. Even though the time being spent here has been amazing, I still am starting to run low on gas. Not that it’s taking a toll. Of course not.
With the weight of the grades in my courses placed on these last few weeks, and in an attempt to finish off strong at ORBIS, I am currently running later and later into the night to ensure all my work gets done at a quality level.
It surely does not help my cause that I am perfectionist when it comes to things one cannot perfect. I’ve re-edited the open to a video presentation over five times and continually switched the music. But hey, that’s the cost of doing business.
How will I stay awake through these last few weeks? Coffee? Don’t drink it. Soda? Possibly. The new After Eight McFlurry from McDonald’s? Absolutely.
Thanksgiving
In a few hours, you’ll all wake up, leave on your pajamas, and watch Santa Claus come prancing in on his chariot in one of many locations around the country.
I, however, am sitting at work.
No turkey. No stuffing. No American football.
Just me and my desk.
Ouch.
Britain isn’t into this whole Thanksgiving thing yet, which alludes me, because I feel like Britain has plenty to be thankful for. Take us, for example. They should hold a Thanksgiving to thank their lucky stars that we revolted and left the Empire. If we didn’t, I imagine the Colonies as that kid in the back of the class that keeps causing problems but won’t listen to authority.
Britain could also be thankful for bangers and mash, the Queen, and their troops protecting them around the world.
So Britain, get on this Thanksgiving band wagon. Sure, the holiday’s beginnings have absolutely nothing to do with you, but the idea is nice, right?
Rain
I have decided the worst weather for riding the Tube is… snow!
…Kidding. That’d be a dumb post title then, wouldn’t it?
No, no. It’s rain. Cold rain, specifically.
Take this morning. A cold rain outside, so I wore a sweater and a jacket for my two minute walk to the Tube station. Two fat-kid-stomach-packed trains later and I’m sweating like I just lied to the President about WMDs. Then back out of the the Tube and up into the rain again. Then a ride on the lift and into the office.
I was hot, sweaty, and gross, and all before 9 am. Not that I’m up in arms about it or anything.
The topper on this cake of nasty? The sun just came out.
The saying is right: fact is much more twisted than fiction.
One Month
There’s exactly one month left until I fly back from London. For a little stretch, it was exciting to think of going home, but now pre-leaving nostalgia is starting to sink in. It’s incredibly odd to almost miss a place before you’ve left, but that’s how a lot of us here are starting to feel (isn’t that a line from a song or something?)
Anywho, there is still a lot that needs to be accomplished. Unlike in Ithaca, where my classes have grades spread all over the semester, the courses here are heavily weighted to the back half of the semester. That means that as nostalgia sets in and I want to see more of the city, I also have more work to stay on top of.
Talk about a dilemma.
So the plan is this: Do as much during the day as I can in the city, and do as much in the night for school as I can. So far it seems to be working out pretty well, but at the same time I’m pretty tired, so we’ll see how long this plan lasts.
How do you manage your time? I hope you’re a lot better at it than I am!
Sport
Americans like their sport. Britons love their sport. It isn’t really the Britons, more so Europeans.
I live in Marble Arch, well, on the edge of it. It isn’t politically incorrect around here to say that it is generally an Asian Subcontinent and Middle Eastern population in this area. There is also a large African population here and in other parts of London. And a large Asian population. And a large, well, everything. London is a city of diversity. A city of many colors, languages and cultures. Which is why London is really more a world city than a Brit city.
That statement would probably upset plenty of Brits, and I understand why. But in reality, this truly is the center of the world. With its unique connections to the United States, Europe, and the nations of the former Empire, I believe Britain, and more specifically London is centerpiece of the world.
Now why does this matter when it comes to sport? Well, this little thing called the World Cup is coming up. Teams from all around the world have been attempting to qualify. I could pretty much tell you every team that’s qualified in recent weeks because each successful team has spawned spontaneous street chanting, car honking, flag waving, and my personal favorite, in-street fireworking.
Yes, fireworks. Being set off. In the middle of a street. Mere blocks from my flat.
Fire codes be damned, for this is a party.
So while I appreciate a good sport like any other American, I really don’t think we embrace them as fully as other nations. Coming from a guy who grew up a Philadelphia sports fan, that’s saying a lot.
Diversity plays a huge role in this, and our understanding of society. And I hope everyone can get to experience true diversity at one point or another. The experience is what brings forth understanding. The understanding bring compassion. And with compassion comes a whole lot of awesome love and friendship.
Health Care
I’ve been hearing rumors that there is some big arguing right now in the States about health care. And by rumors, I mean it’s plastered on the news here too.
The UK, as you’ve probably heard, has the NHS or National Health Service. On Sunday, I got to test it out.
A friend of mine, who shall remain nameless to avoid embarassment (and no this isn’t me protecting my own health) needed some expert doctor advice on Sunday, so we went to the Emergency Room.
In case you were wondering, it was no fast process. Thirty minutes to see a nurse, then another two hours to get to sit down and chat with a doctor. The doctors all work in the ER on rotation, which means that they may specialize in something that has nothing to do with you. Sounds kind of like America, right?
Personally I am a supporter of the bill that’s been passed by the House. I think it is a step in the right direction. But I sure hope people don’t think it’s going to make the waiting lists as hospitals go down. Or make everyone immediately cured of all diseases.
This Barack Obama is potentially a miracle worker. Just not those kinds of miracles.
And as an aside, how do you pronounce the word “miracle”? Apparently I do it wrong.
Liverpool
I’m leaving for Liverpool in about six hours. I know, I should be asleep Mom, and I’m sorry. I am slowly packing and preparing to be on my way.
It is a trip with Ithaca so there will be about 30-40 of us going in a big coach. I’m excited to hang with all of the people I’ve met this fall and find some new stories with them over the weekend.
The one thing I am not as excited about is the main reason most people are going to Liverpool: The Beatles.
You read it here first: I am not sold on the Beatles. I’m just not. Sue me. I know, I know, they were the first super group and such and such and so on and they’re amazing and everyone looks up to them and yadda yadda; I’ve heard it all before. But even though I have, I remain unconvinced.
Do I have to like the Beatles to like rock music? I truly don’t think so. To be honest, a few of their songs aren’t half bad. But I feel like the songs I like by them are the ones that are the least, well, Beatles-like.
I also believe that there is a large percentage of people out there afraid to admit they don’t like the Beatles. Liking them is kind of like knowing how to use a stop light; someone shows you at a young age, you follow along and keep the idea moving so nobody gets hurt. I have even talked to people who have admitted to me in private that they don’t really get them, but they say they do because all their friends do or their parents do or whatever.
So are the Beatles really that huge or are we just a society that doesn’t feel like bothering with questioning what we’re taught?
I’ll let you know when I get back from Liverpool. That is, of course, if my Beatles loving friends don’t beat me too hard first.
Ice Skating
London seems to have a love for ice skating in famous places. This winter there are ice rinks scheduled for Somerset House and Hyde Park, and one has already opened at the Natural History Museum (outside it, of course).
Now I have no problem with ice skating, just that I’ve never been too incredibly skilled at it. I learned roller blading first, but skipped the part where you learn how to stop. I feel like you need to know this kind of information as I delve into this discussion.
A big paper here, the London Evening Standard, has declared the ice rink at the Museum to be better than skating in Central Park.
First off, no.
Second off, if comparing rinks, shouldn’t one compare the rink to the Rockefeller Center? I think it’s fair to say that as Americans we would more readily associate winter ice skating with the flags, NBC and that gold statue near the massive tree before thinking of Central Park.
The other aspect of ice skating in London that aludes me is that it doesn’t snow pretty much at all before Christmas. So instead of skating with flakes in the sky, it’s more like skating with rain pelting you from above. So that’s a third no.
This analysis is strictly from a poorly informed passerby, I remind you, so I could be completely wrong, but I seem to find this ice skating in London thing even less enjoyable the more I think about it.
To give the skating a fair shake, I plan on visiting the rink that is currently being built in Hyde Park. It’s close to where I live, features a carnival and promises to be a thrilling time. So once that gets up and running I’ll render my final verdict.
For now, consider ice skating in London way less cool than skating in NYC.
Monday Morning Football
Every Sunday night/Monday morning, Five broadcasts the Sunday Night Football game from the NFL back in the States. This week my Eagles were playing so I figured I’d stay up and check it out.
Basically, it’s a guy with a slight British accent and some former American NFL player no one’s ever heard of. They sit at a desk and recap the games of the day. It’s all very relaxed, with the host in a tee shirt and hoodie and the analyst in a button down shirt straight out of a Levi’s commercial.
Then it came to game time. Toss it to NBC? Of course not. The game was split between the London discussion, which included viewer emails and questions, and the NBC commentary. At some points, you could go a few minutes without the London fellas, but then, as John Madden would say, BOOM!, it was right back to the London crew because they had no commercials.
That’s right. No commercials. So everytime you all had a commercial in the States, I got to watch two guys vaguely discuss the game as they waited for the feed to come back.
Needless to say, I only lasted the first half. By that time it was nearing 3:30 AM, and I didn’t want to throw off my sleeping patterns much more than I already had thanks to the Phillies’ playoff run.
I miss football, I really do. But I won’t be watching much more of it here, I can tell you that.
Supermarkets
London has its fair share of supermarket wars. There’s Sainsbury’s, Tesco, Somerfield’s, ASDA, Morrison’s, and a few others that I don’t even remember. The only thing that really separates them is their own personal brands.
Ready Meals are insanely popular here in the city. The thought process being “If you live in a city, you must have an important job, and that job must take a lot of time every day. So once that job is over, there’s no way in hell that you’re going to want to cook, so you might as well just buy our pre-made meals and get it over with.”
While I completely agree with the thought process, I do tend to at least make heat my food up in the oven.
The Ready Made market here is amazing. There are all kinds of starters, mains, desserts and sides. Tons of different genres of food, types of sauces, heating styles. It’s really more than I can handle at times. In fact, I’m about to head to the supermarket (Sainsbury’s is my market of choice) and spend far too much time in the Ready Made aisle deciding what I am going to be eating for all of my meals this week.
The tricky part comes when buying in bulk. As I learned from the Bad Idea Bears in Avenue Q, buying in bulk is always a key concept because it saves you both money and the hassle of shopping again.
I’ve bought a few different items in bulk this fall, some with good results and others with bad. Uusally when it has gone bad, it has been because I did not estimate the amount of time I had to eat that food properly. When it has gone well, I’ve been able to save and enjoy some savory food. Because of this issue, however, I am always sure to arm myself with a calendar on my cell phone whenever going food shopping.
Ithaca has its Wegman’s. And… that’s pretty much where everyone goes. If only there was the variety from the city and a nice alternative Ready Made meal market.
That would make me salivate far more than any food from the Pub.