July 25 - September 5th

Everywhere you look in London, something new is being built. Cranes dominate the skyline and resemble beanstalks growing up from the cracks in the street. One recent count from the panoramic view of the Tate Modern yielded over 35 crane towers. This city is really a unique blend of Christopher Wren's classical style, post-war concrete mistakes and contemporary glass and steel. Although the skyline is rather tame compared to other cities, the style and grace of some of these structures is very well balanced.


One would think airplanes racing above the river Thames would be a fabulous treat for a spectator. But leave it to a corporate entity like Red Bull to lease out and cordon off all public viewing space and charge exorbitant amounts of money for a grandstand ticket. Not to be out done by a sickening energy drink company (whose product, when mixed with Vodka is known as an 'instant asshole') we scoured and discovered a proper viewing spot on a bridge. It was packed shoulder to shoulder with beer drinking locals. So strange to see the cops standing right next to the natives who are pounding beers and just leaving the litter at their feet. Inspiring really. The planes were screaming in at 15 feet above the water flying slaloms between 9 meter tall inflatable cones . The stretch of river they chose to perform the areal acrobatics presented a hugely ironic twist. Located at the center of the course is the O2 Dome, a gigantic white tent with yellow towers poking out at a sixty degree angle. Basically, it looks like resulting offspring if the Denver International Airport had a reckless one night stand with a crane factory. This dome could not be a more formidable structure for aircraft. It literally resembles a fly trap for humans.

In England life really does orbit around the pub. So many of them seem to possess a dual themed name: The Anchor and Hope, the Horse and Coach, the Hand and Scepter, the Fox and Hounds. Almost all of them have an literal picture or symbol out front. The answer to this phenomenon had eluded me until I read that these names originate back to a time when the majority of the clientele were unable to read before they arrived at the pub. The more clear and distinct the sign was to represent pictorially, the easier the customers could remember and return. Strange to think about a whole society having to navigate around a massive city without the aide of literacy.

The commuting life has gradually taken hold of my instincts. There are unwritten rules one must follow which includes not talking on the phone while in the train car. This is obvious on the tube--where it does not work (but you are being bombarded with radiation from every passengers mobile still on and searching for a signal). Eating is usually kept to a minimum and when they do its pretty tidy and discreet. After the peak commute hours all bets are off. So often, a bus or train car is hijacked by little punks with a speakerphone setting on their mobile phone/mp3 player. The polite masses all suffer equally in total silence. For as much as the British love to gripe about the system (British Rail, National Insurance, the weather, the National Football team, Tim Hennman, the weather) no one does anything about the scourge of midday public transport . Much of this silence is just the cultural norm of pressing on in adverse conditions. But some of this silence stems from a fear of the dreaded "hoody". These packs of teenagers wearing hooded sweatshirts purposely board trains and buses looking for trouble (and almost always leave a trail of trash and beer cans behind). When a violent event occurs, the papers and news programs exacerbate the story and contribute to the fear. If these kids tried the same stunt in New York--they would definitely get a talking to.

My new favourite multi-meaning word in England is: Bollocks. Basically, it means 'balls' but not in the "of dough" or "of fire" [great] kind. This is the Anglo-speak for one's own testicles (Margaret Thatcher included, Tony Blair excluded). For example, one could be justified shouting, "bollocks" if one just realized they took the wrong train (again), or filled out a form incorrectly (yet again). Another use is to describe a person lecturing or dressing down another person. For instance, the form I may or may not have filled out correctly could then be used as a reason for the form's handler to, "give me a proper bollocking." Strangely, the third use of this word maintains its obliquely spherical reference, but puts a positive spin on things but in a non-human way. For example, as a co-worker was espousing the attributes of the brand new video game of FIFA soccer on Play Station 57, he said, "It's the dog's bollocks mate!" How does one version invade the lexicon as a way to vent frustration or denote negativity, yet another use likens a dog's testes as the paragon of cool? This causes me great distress, but then I remember reading about American dog owners who pay to have their post-castrated canine receive prosthetic . . .bollocks! Lets not forget the guys who hang a couple of billiards balls in a swimming cap and tie it to the back of their jacked up truck's trailer hitch (strangely, I see these trucks pulling out of Veterinary clinics all the time).

I recently had the honour of viewing the England vs. France Rugby match in a lively pub serving all-you-can-drink-andpayfor-beer. Were it a football (soccer) match, it would be called a 'friendly.' This being Rugby, it was a war. That being said, I am now a firm believer my friend's comment about Football (soccer) vs. Rugby, "Football is a gentleman's game played by thugs and Rugby is a thugs game played by gentlemen." The fans of the two games serve to prove this point. England has a rather infamous history of producing the sporting thugs known as "hooligans". These fanatics are devoted to deviance and disrespect. A watershed in the history of English football hooliganism was the Heysel disaster of 1985, in which a "charge" by Liverpool fans at rival Juventus supporters caused a wall to collapse, resulting in 39 deaths. English teams were banned from European club competitions until 1990. This is not to say that football is not fun to watch in the pubs, its just marked with a different reputation than that of Rugby. Rugby fans may drink as much or more, but they are really respectful and polite. It is truly electrifying to be in a packed pub and hear the whole place erupt in a passionate version of the national anthem. With the advantage of international competition, nations get to add pride and devotion to their resume. The States just gets to call a big baseball match a "world series" by beating up on some hockey rejects from Canada. It really is a shame that Football or Rugby will never be a huge success in the States. My own theory is that these two games share a similar Achilles heel: they operate on a continuous running clock. There is no huddle, planning strategy, chat with the coach . . . Think of all those commercial breaks that will never be shown! Baseball now has obnoxious advertising behind home plate, and I seem to remember Spiderman base pads during one playoff game? The corporate sponsors have weaseled themselves into the sports over here by pasting a logo on the uniforms. No one is safe. With the Rugby World Cup looming, the viewing, atmosphere and international competition will get fierce. Due up this Saturday is the inevitable spanking of the USA rugby team by way of England. I will sing Francis Scott Key's anthem with all my heart just for all of YOU! It being a Rugby match and not football, I will be joked at instead of spit on and beaten to a pulp.


Along with Rugby, the monetary superiority of the Pound Sterling versus the US dollar is also glaring. Thanks to a 2:1 ratio, there will be virtually no visitors for me over here. But here are a few things that may change your minds: We just got our street re-paved. New asphalt folks. Another would be that the Imperial pint carries a hefty 20 oz. while we Americans boast a skimpy 16oz. Think of that $10 dollars going to that extra 4 oz! Mmmmmm, drink it up! Usually it is the US that boasts something bigger and heavier. One of my favorite ways to sum up America's weight problem goes like this: One out of every three Americans weighs more than the other two combined. England is not entirely off the hook here. At least we measure our fat asses in one consistent (inferior) system. They still mix inches with millimeters (much to my profession's confusion). Weight is usually in kilograms, unless talking about personal weight. Most British adults can tell you exactly how many stones they weigh. A "stone" is the representation of 14 pounds--yet they are at a loss to tell you in pounds or kilos. Seems odd, but when you get to describe your personal heft as "twelve and a half" instead of hundred(s) who can blame them. My British friend knows his weight in stone, height in feet and inches, distance in kilometers, speed in mph, liquid by the litre and weeks by fortnights. He couldn't guess any equivalent measurement for the life of him.

We were lucky enough to be invited to a beautiful traditional English Wedding in the nearby countryside of Kent. The church was terribly old and festooned with well-dressed and mannered English wedding guests. The formula is virtually identical to the traditional American event, but with a bit more pomp and tradition thrown in and the church can collapse on your head at any moment. Most of the women sport some impressive hats with plumage galore. The men in the wedding party wear the penguin-tailed coats and fancy pin striped vests and trousers. Every guest has to be met by the bride and groom's family before the reception. This is taken care of in the form of a greeting line. The only thing I could think of was the beginning of a basketball game where they announce every one and high fives are passed around. I started to run out of things to say to all the strange faces, so I just stuck to a patented few and rotated every other person "such lovely weather" and "I like your hat."

Stay tuned for a special posting on our recent holiday to Croatia!