Time marches on at an alarming rate. So much has transpired I feel the need to explain. The first caveat: there will be a profound tense change to this blog henceforth. The 'we' that so often accompanied the previous entries shall now just be in singular first person. Emily and I have decided to separate and go our individual ways. She lives in Dubai now and I carry on here in London until March when my visa expires. It has been really hectic for the past 3+ months and so the Blog's consistency has suffered. This is an attempt to rectify that without being 3 times as long. Apologies for the photos, my camera was broken for a few months and some of the footage is either from my old 'stock', crappy camera phone or a borrowed camera.
London grows cold now. Autumn arrived in fine style. The only "Indian Summer" that people would recognize in England would be some story told by Rudyard Kipling. A few particularly cold evenings have haunted my sleep. The wind sweeps down from the Arctic, stops off for a nip of whiskey in Scotland, then drives south and makes your bloodstream dilate. These winds made short work of the fall foliage, for soon it was strewn about for the feet to kick up. Within 2 weeks we were plunged into the darkness of Winter. Since London is so far north (roughly the same latitude as Calgary, Canada) the night descends at around 4:30pm. This is a type of cold I am not used to . The air is crisp, yet very damp. It is cold enough to snow, but never does. The sky will be clear all day, but the ground remains damp all day long.
I am pleased to announce more London public transportation stories. Combine my genuine stubbornness and London's ruthless transport mechanisms and you have instant entertainment. Even self-imposed travel rules have not helped. Rule one: NEVER attempt to save both time and money with public transportation, for you will rapidly lose both. The last thing on my mind when I took a bus to look at a job 5 miles away, was "where did the 3+ hours, dignity and £5 go?" My return trip should have been a reverse direction on the trusty old bus. But when a train station is so near, how can one resist? The problem begins when you walk past by the desired station, then ask a stranger, "Where is the train station?" Rule two: Be s-p-e-c-i-f-i-c when referring to your desired destination. Streatham Hill is vastly different from Streatham, much to my chagrin. Then, when you buy your train ticket at the wrong station, discover the ticket you bought will never get you to your destination, make sure you don't take it out on the machine that took your money. With sore feet from the lengthy walk and severe ticket machine kicking, I turned around. I got lazy and flagged a bus back t
o the other train station. Things were going so well, I decided to take the bus back home. Content with my decision, I tucked into my book and only looked up when it felt like my ride home was parallel parking into the service garage. The intense anger I felt was trumped only by my embarrassment and in theory could have cooked the egg that was now on my face. I trundled back the other way, to search for the train station I had originally wanted to find and had previously passed by twice (once by foot and by bus). The station was 3 blocks away from the clients' house. Of course, there are other times on public transportation when you are entertained by people who are less than sober. Sadly, this is never when you are in a hurry or are in need of a mood change. Still, if you look hard enough, you will find some very interesting people riding public transport.
As a baseball fan, its difficult to tolerate a country that is obsessed with Cricket. As a Oakland A's fan, its even tougher to tolerate a populace that is obsessed with the New York Yankees. The problem is that virtually none of the Yankee apparel owners can name the last time the Yanks won a world series. After seeing a grown man sporting a pink camouflage Yankee hat, I came to the conclusion that George Steinbrunner should have fired the team's fashion manager, not Joe Torre. Seriously, a pink hat! They just like the logo, I can assure you that. It reminds me of the phrase, "The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled, was to convince the world he didn't exist." The French developed a inexplicable interest in the college of UCLA during the early 1990's. They just called it "OOH-KLAH" and figured it was a popular type of clothing with a cute cartoon bear symbol. London's American brand obsession extends to Abercrombie and Fitch. The flagship store is festooned with models who work on the floor and blast house and techno music in the darkly-lit mansion. They can afford to rent the mansion because they charge £60 for a hooded sweatshirt. Any Londoner traveling to New York is bombarded with requests for A&F jumpers selling at 1/2 price in the states. Perhaps an even greater trick the devil pulled off was to convince the world to shell out $120 for a pre-worn cotton sweatshirt that advertises for him!
Thanksgiving was successfully observed in London this December. This is actually the accurate month to recognize the "Pilgrims" who landed ashore New England in 1620. After looking into some of the history, things are not as we learned in grammar school. They landed in heaving December seas and were woefully unprepared. They spent 9 1/2 weeks on a boat no larger than the red double- decker bus that shuttles so many Londoners. There were 102 passengers on board who packed items like; sundials, a trumpet, 126 pairs of sho
es--but failed to bring things like a cow, horse, plough, fishing line. . .After 4 months, there were just 54 people remaining. Curiously, the Mayflower was broken up and sold for salvage and is rumored to be an old barn 20 miles outside of London (in a village near Buckinghamshire). It was difficult to explain the Thanksgiving tradition to my British friends, given the historical setting for this meal between new colonizers and the Native Americans. Yes, we wiped the native people out in vast numbers with cruel efficiency--but we were thankful for what they did for us beforehand? Fortunately, the English are no strangers to brutal colonization and really the Pilgrims were just as much English as they were American.
If there is any justice in the world, then both satellite navigation and the fake tan had to be invented in London. I used to think fancy gadgets like the "Sat Nav" are just geeky toys for a space-aged car industry. After driving a car in London, I envy those people with the gadgets. Navigation in a vehicle in London requires all your brain power. No street stays straight for more than 200 feet. Road names change as often as the Italian government. Locating these elusive signs becomes a nightmarish 3-D version of Where's Waldo, "There it is! Below the window sill on the 2nd story of that building there." Whilst doing all of this, be sure to watch for bus-only lanes, speed cameras (revenue cameras), pedestrians and bicyclists. These Sat Nav's are really good. You can even download Mr. T's voice to direct you, "Take a left, fool!" Yet, perhaps the bicycle is the best way around this city. I used to pity the poor lycra clad warriors wearing pollution masks on their face. Yet when the average vehicle speed in London is 7mph, a bicyclist gets the last laugh (although it is muffled behind the mask).Just as the tides rely on the moon, the sun in England seems to be synchronized with the celestial timing of Halley's Comet. Bleak old England may have lost beloved celebrity footballer David Beckham and Victoria-Posh- Spice-Beckham, but there is a lingering afterglow that remains. . .this would be her fake tan powder of course. One can't help but notice some of these women during the morning rat race and it looks as though their commute started in Spain. The ones who apply too much (most of them) powder end up looking like they snorted about a kilo of 100% pure, uncut, Columbian Tang. Seriously, its like a 3 year-old adjusted all the color knobs on the T.V. and suddenly Susan Lucci is orange!
Question: Where do canceled American T.V. shows go to die? Answer: My living room. The lounge in the house I live in always seems to be viewing the most 2nd rate programs from the States. Steven Segal dominates one channel, with Bruce Willis picking up the slack for the rest of the weeknights. British television does devote an inordinate amount of time to the national pastime: Football (soccer). It reigns supreme here. By far the common man's game and it always seems to be on. Except for the day I heard this announcement on BBC 1 last Sunday, "Stay tuned for an exciting afternoon starting with Focus on Football, followed by Darts!" Now that's entertainment. After Cricket and Rugby, there's a really steep drop off for secondary televised sports. Then again, ESPN's world series of poker footage can't be much more exciting than Darts ( its [Poker] the 3rd most popular 'sport' viewed on cable TV after Nascar and Football). We will call that one a draw then. U.K.--nill, U.S.A.--nill.
It may sound shallow, but it still does not diminish the truth in the statement; It's not what you are like, but what you like that paints the picture. Books, friends, music, art, movies--these things are the social barometer that make you unique. Its the same for cultures really. Simply visit a supermarket and take inventory. Overall, the British are no different than Americans. . .until you run across the baked beans aisle--or wing depending on the store. Beans, beans, beans! SO many beans! A soccer goalpost could not properly bracket the selection of canned baked beans. France has massive cheese aisles, England has an unrivaled section for bean worship. Now we are getting somewhere.
Video surveillance is something of a national pastime in England. There are more cameras per person here than anywhere else in the world (one for every 10 people). On a single day in London, the average person is caught on camera 300 times. Recent developments in remote technology have enabled police departments to fly a small drone (UAV) above concert events. These devices are virtually silent and visually undetectable at above 150 feet. The argument goes that if you are a law biding citizen and have nothing to hide, then you shouldn't be bothered. The problem is where to draw the line. Facial recognition software is in place in zone one (central London) and anyone on the terrorist database has about 20 seconds before the 'ring of steel' closes down upon them. But what happens if the machine is only 99% effective? One percent of 5 million people times 3oo is a large number of, "We apologize for any inconvenience this machine gun may have caused you . . .technology is not perfect you know". Some security analysts are now looking into placing RFID chips into people--the same ones that we currently implant into dogs. One problem I have with the CCTV camera craze, is that it does not deter crime. It seems the only thing it has done is make this city docile at acting upon any vandalism or crime they see going on in front of them. Where does all this information go? Who gets to see it? The ultimate irony on this topic has to be the fact that there are no less than 32 CCTV cameras that film you standing in front of the house where George Orwell (Animal Farm, Nineteen Eighty-Four) lived. I am positive there are at least two cameras filming Mr. Orwell rolling in his grave.
The buildup to Christmas is quite similar to that in the States. London gets out the lights and ice skating rinks. Santa appears at carnivals and in shopping malls. I recently witnessed the annual tree lighting in Trafalgar Square on a rain-soaked night. Apparently, the Norway has been donating a beautiful (Norwegian spruce) tree to London since 1947 out of gratitude to England's support during WWII. Correct me if I am wrong, but wasn't Norway occupied by the Nazis during WWII? The tree is decorated in a refreshingly modest set of vertical lights tapering down the 20 metre high tree. I would like to think that England reciprocates with a humanitarian airdrop of baked beans or something like that. Enjoy your holidays everyone!
