Search for a T-strap

Being the shoe fiend that I am and given the extensive length of time since the purchase of my last pair (I got some brown pumps my first week of work last September), oh plus the fact that I have worn out the soles on two pairs of work shoes yet again and need to get them repaired yet again, I decided to buy a new pair of shoes to wear to work.

Anyways, so yesterday at lunch I decided my time would be well spent looking at shoes on the Top Shop website, where I was forced to realize that all of my shoes are completely out of style. The hip pumps these days have an ankle strap, if not two, or straps in other places, like across the toes. You can imagine my despair! After work I hiked down to High St Ken and popped into Dune, as it's basically the closest shoe store to the road I walk down to get there. They had a lot of slightly quirky yet not so appealing shoes, but I mentally book-marked a few and then went over to the shoe lounge at Top Shop. After getting past the 8" heal pole dancing shoes, I found some I liked. There were bright red, slightly orange-y t-straps with about a 2" heal. I tried one on and found it remarkable comfortable. However, I was like, this shoe is quite the statement in color, how often could I actually wear these to work? The 'last chance' shelf indicated that the shoe had once been available in black, but they were down to their final pair in a tiny size. Oh, and there was also a cream option. But that just had 'I'm going to look dirty and scuffed within 20 minutes' written all over it. Plus a girl had picked that one up and was carrying it around like a baby.

This morning I tried questioning Mark on what he thought I should regarding this shoe situation. There really aren't that many Top Shops in London, the High St Ken one being probably the main second fiddle to the massive flagship on Oxford Street. Given my work's plucky location, I could hop on the Central Line and conceivably be at the flagship in about 15 minutes. So I asked Mark if I should go back to the local one and get the red ones, or try my luck at the big one. He got confused. So I decided at lunch to hit Oxford Street. I figured it would be much safer and scarier than going tomorrow when even more people would be roaming the streets.

Once I had fought through the crowds to gain entrance to massive Top Shop, I went down to two floors (yes, it's that massive) to the shoe area, where they had the t-strap shoe in bright pink and seemingly nothing else. I did some further looking about and came across a few more on the last chance shelf, in yellow but not my size, turquoise but not my size, and finally, taupe and my size. So I asked to try on a pink pair in addition to the taupe pair, as the pink still seemed like a better option than the orangey red. But they only had the pink in one size smaller than I wanted, and while they fit it wasn't what I would term 'comfy'. So I bought the taupe shoes. Oh, I must also add that one of the further advantages of getting shoes from Top Shop is that they offer a 10% student discount and my student ID card doesn't expire until July.

So what are my fashion intention for my new t-straps? Good question. As they are t-straps and don't have an abrupt top edge ripe for cutting into feet, I foresee them being quite comfortable and thus being able to wear them regularly. To be hip and fashionable, I intend to wear them with black tights. By watching people on the tube I have learned that this is what people do these days, but so far have not been able to bring myself to do it. I think that given the muted nature of the taupe I will be able to carry it out a little easier. And as they are somewhat brownish, I feel I will also be able to where them with khaki and brown ensembles. This taupe thing is seemingly quite the shoe solution. Plus I'm pleased to have shoes with straps so I can be cool. And now I have something to wear while the rest of my shoes are getting fixed again...

The Earthquake

So there was an earthquake in the UK yesterday morning. You may have even seen something in the news. Needless to say, the little shake-up was quite the conversation piece. First off, people at work started asking others if they had felt it. Those unfamiliar with the news just assumed the other person was making stuff up. Because you know, the UK doesn't have these sorts of problems, being mid-plate and all. Well, maybe 1 person in all of London was astute enough to actually notice it as it was like a million miles north of here and not that strong to begin with. But that's not the important thing, it was technically the biggest earthquake in the UK since 1984. An entire chimney collapsed at someone's house. This is big news! On one those little things outside of news stands listing outrageous headlines to entice us to buy the papers there was a headline this morning saying 'Earthquake rocks London'. I was like, oooh, London has collapsed into the earth as a victim of it's fury, then I remember, really, not so much. The 5.3 earthquake had a significant presence on the news last night as well, but luckily was not treated as the beginning of the end.

In other news, I've become one of those people who reads a book while on the tube. I find that reading while waiting for the train and then whilst crammed within one makes the time go by much quicker, plus you needn't pay quite as much attention to the strange people you have been forced into close confines with. The trend began when, a few weeks ago, I bought a book during my lunch hour and was eager to take a crack at it, opting to open it when I left work. It quickly caught on. Once I have finished this first book, I think I shall continue the trend, just making sure I have books small enough to fit into my bag and thin enough so that I can hold them open with one hand. However, reading has it's limits. For example, I can't read while walking to and from the stations. I'm a) not that talented and b) it's too dark on the way home. I would quite enjoy being able to read magazines but it's rare to get that much space to play with during the commute. Plus the balancing of something that size becomes tricky when your other hand is gripping a pole for dear life as the train goes around a bend on 130 year old tracks. Needless to say, I'm still working on my tube balancing!

WAGs

After first hearing this term, it took me a considerable amount of time to figure out what everyone (aka, mainly the media) was talking about. I'll spare you the torment and just tell you what it is, - WAGs is the term used in these parts for referring to the Wives And Girlfriends of sports stars. These are the women with really big sunglasses and big hair often shown in the crowds at England World Cup games. The world's most famous WAG would be Victoria Beckham, and Nadine Cole, the shamed wife of Ashley Cole and member of Girls Aloud, is another well known WAG.

For some reason, WAGs are sometimes treated as celebrities in their own right. Basically, being the arm candy of well-paid athletic types they tend to be busty blondes (or if you are Posh, gaunt brunettes), and society finds these people interesting. In the US we have actresses and Paris Hilton to fill the general role of 'party types we like to look at pictures of getting out of cars in the evening time', but here the supply of genuine female celebrities is a bit short, and aristocrat/socialite types must not be very good looking, so this gap is filled by WAGs. Some, like Posh and the Girls Aloud one, are well known enough to just be listed as themselves in a photo caption, but many others require the name of their HABs (my newly made up term for husbands and boyfriends) to be mentioned alongside their own. A few weeks ago the newspapers got lucky when there was some sort of widely WAG attended event on a windy evening, and so two pages in the London Light showed us the various attempts of these ladies trying to get from the car to the event without getting their hair just totally messed up. It's sad, I know.

And then of course, sometimes these WAGs manage to pick up side jobs based on their WAG credentials. For example, Wayne Rooney's woman has her own show, called 'Colleen's Real Women' where she goes around and tells normal people they are pretty and makes them walk around in very little clothing. Or at least that's the grasp of things I got from the commercial. It's in instances like that where I really wonder about the people in this country. Of course the US gave Jessica Simpson her own show, so I guess we can't really judge.

While I may sound like a harsh critic of WAGs, I must admit they seem to have a pretty good deal. They get money, clothes and attention without actually requiring any talent of any kind. I imagine they spend their days getting their roots touched up, shopping for wind-resistant dresses, and getting their maids to clean up the poo that their adorable little dogs deposit around the house. Oh yeah, and going to the tanning bed. Again, this does not seem like a bad way to go through life.

I'm also going to take this opportunity to point out another, somewhat related topic: the lack of female sports in this land. While the US isn't stellar in this department, we at least have the WNBA, an established professional national women's soccer team, a considerable number of female tennis and golf players, and the odd female race driver. Off the top of my head I can only think of one female Brit athlete off the top of my head - long distance runner Paula Radcliffe, and that's really just because Mark is frequently extolling her virtues as he totally has a huge crush on her. It seems like this country could put a bit more effort into promoting actual female athletes than just the women who date athletes, especially when it comes to promoting positive role models for girls. I mean, who girl's soccer have really ever taken off if it weren't for Mia Hamm? Who, I suppose via her marriage to Nomar Garciaparra is also technically a WAG. Oh dear.

Girl and boy bands

Now that I've wrapped up my tales of Munich, I have to start putting thought into my blog entries again. It's so much work! So, my apologies in advance for those that are a bit lacking. My first effort shall entail diving not so deeply into the parallel universe of the girl and boy bands we find on this side of the pond. As I've come to learn, there are a few groups deeply ingrained into the psyche over here, and if you're going to be living in these parts and don't want to be a total outcast, it's best you learn who they are.

The Big Guns:
Take That - boy band that's been around since the dawn of time, once included Robbie Williams but then he went solo, the group sort of fell apart, they reformed a few years ago and now they are hugely popular and won't take Robbie back. Their with-Robbie classic 'Back for good' is regarded as a classic in a similar fashion as the Backstreet Boys' 'I want it that way' (that both is, and isn't, saying much I suppose). I believe they can dance, but as they are old now they perform sitting on stools and such. They won 2 Brit awards last week, including song of the year for 'Shine', which has been totally overheard by all thanks to being featured in the ads for a grocery store chain for the last six months. Sharon Osbourne was nearly beside herself with joy when they won. She's probably kidnapped them all and keeping a little Take That harem somewhere. The 'boys', who are in their 30s, are not featured heavily in the gossip columns it seems and might be kind of normal.

Girls Aloud - group made up of 5 girls, allegedly originating on the show X Factor, the current UK version of American Idol. They've been around for a number of years and seem to have a continuous stream of radio-friendly hits, including recent songs 'No, no, no' and 'Call the shots'. The videos are played often at the gym. From what I've seen, they have no dancing ability, but can pose in various positions wearing minimal clothing. Who they date and what they're up to are regularly featured in the papers - one of them recently broke up with that guy who used to be on Desperate Housewives for being not cool enough, and one of them is in hiding (skipped the Brit awards even!) because all these revelations have been coming forward that her soccer-playing husband cheats on her constantly and she doesn't know if she should leave him or not. [note: tomorrow we shall go off on this sort of tangent and learn about WAGs]

Second Tier:
Westlife - another reformed boy bond, technically Irish but for some reason featured in commercials for the post office. There are four of them, I think they might have had a song or two that was played in the US some years ago, and originally came about after Take That was established (or so I learned this morning). Perhaps their recent comeback has also been inspired by them.
Boyzone - another Irish boy band, with a lame name like that you can't really take them seriously, I think. I'm not sure which one, but Ronan Keating came from one of those two groups originally.
Sugababes - girl band with 3 members, did a charity remake of 'Walk this way' with Girls Aloud last year. Members not found quite as intriguing as those of Girls Aloud.

Hopefully No More:
The short list of 'bands' I've caught glimpses of but were just so bad the first time I hope to never hear of them again...
- Atomic Kitten - evil for having spawned Kerry Katona, who is now abut 22, prego with her fourth child with her second husband and has a reality show on MTV. Luckily I don't get MTV, but she also does the commercials for what some might call a grocery store chain, but they only have frozen food so I don't think they count.
- S Club 7 - saw some sort of old school video yesterday, think there were 7 people in the group, 2 of which seemed to be able to sing. Dancing and overly happy smiling was involved. Scary. Both boys and girls.
- Steps - another mixed gender group of questionable talent. I think we've learned by now that these groups are best when only one gender is represented. We have also learned that no one has yet been able to come up with a half-way decent name for a boy or girl band.

Munich - Day 4 and stuff

Monday was the last day in Munich. Our flight wasn't until 7 in the evening, so we had essentially the whole day to play with. We headed up to the museum area (not the same, smaller one, we had been to the day before), most of which were closed on Monday. Basically, the ruling family of Bavaria, the Wittelsbachs, had managed to accrue vast quantities of art in various forms and decided to make a bunch of museums out of it. There was the Greek and Roman statue museum, some, um, other museums, and then three art museums - divided into old, new, and modern. The new was the only one open on Mondays, so that's the one we went to. Keeping in mind that 'new' was a relative term as the museum was over a hundred years old, the museum featured European art ranging from approximately 1800 to a little after 1900, with one of the representations of Van Gogh's Sunflowers (we've seen 3 of them so far, out of 8 or so), and a smattering of other impressionist paintings. I enjoyed the museum, but was slightly put off by the fact we were sort of being chased around by a group of about 30 5 year-olds.

After the museum we meandered through the not quite as old as the Marienplatz area streets, walking past the Residenz, the large Wittelsbach pad, and past the like, cutest ever giant yellow church. I think giant churches should be yellow more often. Then, after much ado, we returned to the Haufbrauhaus for lunch and so Mark could get a stein from the gift shop (let's not go into the days of debate this purchase involved). Being mid-day, it was a bit more subdued than the previous Friday and it was easier to get a seat. The band was there, and every so often really big tour groups came in, all walking past the band and stopping to take pictures. Coupling the longing for one last giant stein and the fact that it was mid-day on a Monday, we decided to get radlers to drink, aka, shandy. Apparently 'radler' is the word for cyclist and cyclists can't get plastered while riding around so they go for the half lager/half lemonade combo. I enjoyed.

Our following attempts at shopping were a bit uninspired so we ended up again at a bierhalle recommended by our book in the basement of the new town hall. It was a giant labrynth of rooms with low vaulted ceilings, and we had this strange little u-shaped narrow booth. The only other people in our are were these 3 American guys from different parts of our land, who were clearly finishing up a ski trip and were discussing the election. It's kind of funny hearing southern sorts say 'Obama'. Anyways, after that we went back to the hotel to pick our bags and headed off to the airport. With my spiffy new passport and accompanying visa, I had no issues getting back into the country. Although I think now the process is permanently associated with extreme anxiety.

So what's the deal with Munich? Well, I'm glad you asked. I found Munich to be a very nice city to visit, an excellent combination of history, culture, and fun. While obviously filled with it's fair share of tourists, you were still constantly surrounded by locals most places you went. People could generally speak some English, but you couldn't help but feel a bit guilty requesting they speak to you in it. In the 'things I found surprising' bracket, everyone always paid in cash at bars and restaurants. We got more than one sort of grown when we requested to pay by card in these situations. Then there was the confusion of trying to get around a lot of places - like when we couldn't figure out how to get out of the underground station by our hotel (this actually happened several times as we came out at different places), and then again when we were trying to figure out what the heck was going on at the Munich Staadtsmuseum and where we were supposed to be going at the Jewish Museum. At the Deutches Museum there were seemingly invisible doors leading to major exhibits, making them very difficult to find even with maps. It was a rather strange recurring theme in our minds - this whole lack of signage and clarity of process.

In the 'why don't they do this everywhere category' there were the escalators. At many of the stations, the escalators would a) stop moving when not in use and then magically motor up when you arrived at them and b) some reversed directions! We tried figuring out exactly how this worked, like if you pressed a button or just had to wait in a certain spot, but couldn't quite figure it out. I couldn't help but think of all those escalators in Las Vegas that just constantly run all the time even when nobody is around, and all the wasted energy. There's much more I could comment on, but those were my greatest observences. Make of them what you will!

Munich - Day 3

Our third day in Munich, let's call it Sunday, was a busy one. It was the only day where my feet hurt when I tried standing after sitting down for a short while. Anyways, after lattes and ham and cheese pretzels for breakfast, we trained it over to the Marienplatz to hit a couple museums - the Munich Staadtsmuseum or something like that, and the Jewish Museum across the street. Along the way we got a little sidetracked and decided to climb up the tower of a church called Old Peter to check out the views of the city. It was only a euro, so might as well, no? Well I nearly died on the way up (306 steps is a lot!), but the views were amazing! Like, we were higher than anything, and it was such a sunny day it was really something. Gives you a totally different perspective.

Continuing on to the museums, well, I'm not sure what to say. My general impression that the German's aren't big on efficient signing or things being really clear was reinforced at the first museum, which was supposed to be a history of the city sort of situation. The guidebook listed it as a must see, what they didn't say was that all the signs and everything were exclusively in German. Luckily it was free on Sundays so we didn't bad staying for only about 15 minutes. The Jewish Museum was very new, kind of sparse, and we weren't allowed to walk around with our coats or bags. The museum focused on the lives of Jewish people before and after the war, but not at all during. Like it was going for a happy thing. I think.

It was by then nearly noon, one of the three times a day in which the Glockenspiel on the new town hall does it's little musical dance. So I made Mark stand outside in the cold for half an hour so we could wait for it/watch it. Basically, some music plays and some figures twirl around. It would have been cuter had it not been so cold. Mark as by then dying of cold so we ducked into a place for lunch. I got what is essentially macaroni and cheese. I was looking for something that didn't involve hearty meats and potatoes. Mark got hearty meat and potatoes.

After lunch we went to the Deutches Museum, or something like that. It was absolutely massive, and had all kinds of stuff, generally relating to science and technology. Like there was a large area about building bridges, where I talked to Mark about forces on tresses. Video of the Tacoma Narrows was of course present. We also looked at some boats, some planes, some optics stuff, musical instruments, some prehistoric cave drawings, stuff about textiles, and saw a guy glassblowing. Oh, and stuff about tunnels. The model railway was too crowded to even catch a glimpse.

We then hopped on a U-bahn train to head up to see the 1972 Olympics park thing. Now, the U-bahn system was opened in 1970, and one of the stops conveniently stops at the site of the 1972 games, convenient, no? Oh, the train we were on had clearly not been updated since 1970. It had wood paneling on the walls. The headquarters for BMW are located right outside the underground station in a really nice looking modern building (plus some other buildings, this is just the one you can go in to), where you can walk around and see all their cars and learn about BMW technology and pay €3 for a coke. The park itself is really just that, a park. It's very pretty, and was filled with people just walking around enjoying the sunny afternoon. The Olympic Stadium itself is sort of carved into the ground so you couldn't really see it, but the face that it's carved out like that sort of explained the Disney-looking hills (as seen in background of photo) on the other side of the little (frozen!!!) lake.

For dinner we went to another bierhalle, this one featuring Schneider Weisse beer, where we had some wheat beers. Mark had a salami plate think, and I got sausages with potato salad. Oh, and I have never in all my life been so clearly hated by a waitress. I'm still not sure what we did to make her mad, but I'm assuming it was our request for the English language menus. Alas, there's no way to win sometimes! That wraps up day 3, tune in tomorrow for the recap of the final day!

Munich - Day 2

Our second day in Munich got off to a bit of a befuddled start. It took us while to figure out what to have for breakfast, then we didn't know what we wanted to do with the day. Eventually we decided we would go to the concentration camp at Dachau. But then we had to figure out how to buy tickets to get there. It was just outside the little zone in which we had a 3-day pass. Let's just say it was confusing. We gave up on the machine and just went and asked someone, who made it look really easy.

We hopped on one of the large suburban trains and headed out into the suburbs/countryside, past really new looking roads sort of twisting oddly through fields. They seem to not have the same rigid planning laws in Germany as they have here. A twisting new road through a field here would be sacriligious. Anyways, the train wasn't busy, and the final train station wasn't busy, however, there was one small area that was bustling. The concentration camp is a 50 minute walk from the station, so everybody just takes the city bus. There is a little bus station outside the train station, again rather muted except for the stop for the bus to the camp, which was chalk full of what seemed to be a lot of Americans. Most people just didn't pay for the bus and got on randomly, but being transport types we felt guilty, got off the bus and then went up to the front and bought tickets. The bus took us on a winding journey through the little town and then through residential areas, stopping at a rather indiscrete light concrete area. This was the path to the concentration camp.

A big visitor's center was being built at the street, but alas it was some way from completion so we hobbled into the little temporary building to rent audio guides from a very unrushed woman. Entrance to the site and the museum it contains is free, but it seemed like one of those occasions where you might get more out of it if you had someone telling you about it, hence the audio things. Anyways, it was the coldest day since the dawn of time. If I wasn't wearing gloves my hands actually hurt from the cold. So we might have rushed things a bit and not listened to all the audio stuff before we got into the museum.

The museum was in the old 'maintenance' building, which was the largest building on the site and was wear the administrative stuff was dealt with, it contained the baths, and I'm not really sure what else. But within the building, we learned all about the camp and how things there changed through the years. It was one of the original concentratino camps, opening in 1933 as basically a prison for political prisoners, with the number of prisoners increasing over the years and the range of offenses increasing. These included being the wrong religion, being homeless, not liking the government, leaving the country and then coming back again, etc. The camp was essentially built to house 6,000 prisoners, but was quickly housing 30,000. It wasn't ideal. It wasn't a death camp (there was a separate one apparently not too far away that they shipped people off to), but it was no picnic and the death rate was very high. I mean, it's not like they really gave them food or warm clothing. But even so, it was apparently still preferential to many other places where the work was much more physical.

Leaving the museum in the bitter cold, we walked around the rest of the site. Most everything had been torn down, but the foundations of the old bunks were still visible. They had since reconstruction the two closest to the maintenance facility to give us an idea of what they were like. One showed what the set-up within the bunks was like in different time periods of the camp. There were something like 36 of these bunks, laid out in a very neat symmetrical pattern around a dividing walkway. Most were housing, but some contained the buildings were medical experiments were carried out. At the far end of the site there were a number of religious memorials, and then a walk across the little stream brought us to the crematorium area, which I found quite sombering. After this we had seen all there was to see and headed back into town.

After a late-afternoon respit, we walked around the Marienplatz a bit before opting to check out a fondu restaurant. Although we then ditched the fondu idea and got pork and noodles instead. I think the waitress found us strange. Anyways, it was very, very good. We got Bavarian cream for dessert, having no idea what to expect. It was like half way between ice cream and whipped cream (and then came with whipped cream). Also very good. Being too early to call it a night, we then went to the bar in our hotel for a night-cap. It was a bit pretentious and everyone in there was much more nicely dressed than we were. Mark got a bloody mary, and the bartender was seemingly showing this new girl how to make one. She had a look of absolute disgust on her face. I had a grasshopper, which was minty, green and delicious.

So that was our second day in Munich. Tomorrow we shall quickly go through our Sunday encounters, which involved many more short activities of varying success. I've put up pictures with accompanying captions up on picasa, so feel free to ruin the surprise of what went on for the next few days by taking a peak!

Munich - Day 1

After months of build-up, the Munich trip finally arrived last Friday morning. With only slight issues, we arrived at Heathrow promptly and had plenty of time to chill in what must be by far Heathrow's smallest terminal. Our flight ended up being about an hour late. It wasn't that impressive. Alas, we finally arrived in Munich, where after deplaning we got on articulated buses that took us to the terminal. It was a bit strange. Then came the difficult part: getting into town.

Being two well-educated transport professionals who of course had researched how to get to our hotel from the airport in advance, you'd think we would have little issue actually getting there. This prooved to be not so true. Despite having an urban rail map looking like a plate of spaghetti noodles, with sleek trains taking you anywhere you could want to go, the people of Munich manage to separate the men from the boys by having created the most complex ticketing system ever seen. I had less trouble figuring out how to get around Tokyo. After attempting the ticket machine, we gave up and went to speak to someone at the information desk. We were sold a ticket to get into town (4 sort of zones, but for some reason they took this to be 16 zones), then a 3-day zone 1-4 pass (which was just the central zone) with a one way zones 5-16 ticket to get back to the airport. We were like, uhhhh, okay. So you stick the tickets in a little machine before descending into the bowels of the earth, and it gets stamped. There are no barriers so it's basically on the honor sytem. We did not encounter one of the theoretically frequent checks.

Finally in the city itself, we checked into our hotel that was conveniently about 100 yards from the main train station. It was very nice, but the bathroom was strange! Like you could slide open the mirror behind the sink to face the rest of the room! And there wasn't a door door to get in either, just another sliding situation. It wasn't what you would term a sound-proof situation. There was also an open shower thing and heated floors.

After getting ourselves situated (it was by this time around 4:30), we headed out, keen for exploration. We were about a 15 minute walk from the Marienplatz, the main square in the city center. En route to said Marienplatz, we came across an Augustiner Bierhalle, and therefore felt obliged to pop in for a pretzel and beers. We then headed through the Marienplatz, past what might be the most impressively ornate building I've ever seen (termed the new town hall), to find the Haufbrauhaus, the most infamous beer hall in Munich. We were very confused when we walked in, there was one main room with painted ceilings and a bunch of big tables full of people and a traditional band playing traditional music. Not seeing any spaces we walked through the rest of the labryinth of rooms with big tables, including one area consisting of only Japanese tourists. Luckily we didn't sit with them, we went back to the main room right as a table was emptying. Being only the two of us, we didn't qualify for a full table of our own. So a few other people sat down at the same table. We ordered steins and sausages with sauerkraut and mashed potatoes for dinner. Enjoying the vibe of the place, we stayed on as the other people at our table moved on, initially replaced by a dull Japanese couple that came in, ordered food they quickly ate and didn't even order any beer. That's no way to enjoy the Haufbrauhaus! They left quickly and were then replaced by a bunch of Germans around our own age. We chatted to some of them, they were from near Frankfurt and were in the midst of a road-trip to the Alps to go skiing. So we chatted with them, had lots of stein klinks, there was even some linked-arm swaying to the music and the locals same along to some of the songs. Basically, it was very awesome. While the place could have easily been completely over-run with tourists, we were pleased to find it full of locals of all ages (easily discernable by the large number of older men wearing traditional little Bavarian outfits with the hats, some with really, really big plumes).

Anyways, a good first day in Munich! This photo shows me enjoying my sausages and beer. My large quantity of photos will surely make their way onto the internet this evening, but for now this is all you're getting! Tomorrow I shall reveal how I spent my Saturday...

Munich bound!

So tomorrow morning I'm jetting off to Munich for a long weekend. Now I think Munich seems like an obvious choice for such a weekend - it's about a two-hour plane ride away, has a rich history (both politically and culturally), there are tons of museums and places to visit, and there's beer and soft pretzels and sausages everywhere. For some reason I don't think this occurs to a lot of people, at least in these parts, so it's not a popular choice. Perhaps Germany doesn't have the quaint appeal of Prague and Budapest, or the warm sunshine of Spain or Italy. Or perhaps they just have a thing against grown men in shorts playing tubas in public spaces. Hmm, that sounds more like it. Anyways, I'll be off tomorrow and will be back Monday night, with lots of photos and tales, hopefully none involving the US consulate. Oh, and we'll be keeping a sharp eye out for one of those little Bavarian hats with a feather in it to get Mark.

In other news, the congestion charge in central London has gone up to £25 for vehicles emitting more than 225g of, um, some kind of emmisions (CO2?) per kilometre (which seems odd, as cars generally function in miles, but whatever). Now some people seem to find this like an outrageous amount of money, to which I say, why the heck need you drive through central London anyways? Like, even if you are heading somewhere within the zone, how are you going to park once you get there? There's no parking garage under the Westminster Abbey, you know.

Last weekend I made an interesting discovery. The font of a brand name on a bathroom fixture caught my eye, with me going in the back of my head 'Oooh, American Standard, interesting choice considering we're not in America'. So I take a closer look, just to learn that, no, it's not American Standard, it's Ideal Standard. At first I was like, well that's a bold statement, to say it's an ideal standard, but then again, it's really no worse than saying something is an American standard, especially given that the term often refers to faucets. So now Ideal/American Standard has been added to my list, alongside TK/TJ Maxx and Galaxy/Dove, of 'seemingly different but actually the same' brands. Why must they be so sneaky?

London v New York

Perhaps I've been slowly brain-washed by Hollywood, but my general impression is that, despite being cities of similar bearing on the world stage, New York and London lack similarities on the all-important level of 'vibe'.

You always hear about people in New York as being spirited, perhaps with a bit of fowl language tossed in for good measure. People seem to be deeply attached to the city, which in a way has thus sort of gained character and become a sort of person in it's own right. It's a major destination for people determined to make a name themselves in basically any field, a city of people all aspiring to great heights. Sort of like LA, only in fields in addition to acting. You've got people like Donald Trump walking around, self-assured and confident despite always looking silly.

Then there is London. Now, London is an amazing city, where everything is available at your door step and you can do basically anything you want. In addition to everything New York has, London has the added importance of being the capital city and the center of the film industry. A New York-DC-LA combo if you wish. Yet I can't help but feel that London does not have the same soul that New York has. It lacks a cohesive personality embodied by the island of Manhattan. Why? Why? Why?

So this is all complete theory on my part, but I would say a) geography, b) demographic, c) English people. Manhattan is an island, so it has set boundaries saying what is and isn't the city. London is not an island, it just sort of sprawls into more and more suburbs, meaning the city centre has no visible boundaries and letting less intriguing outer areas lay claim to the title of 'London'. Thanks to our somewhat harsh immigration laws, New York has transitioned from a city of fresh-off-the-boat immigrants to one of a predominantly American flow. People might speak different languages and claim different heritage, but they're in America for some sort of reason as it's quite difficult to just stop over for brief periods of time. Now as far as I can tell, English people are practically in the minority in England. With the EU lack of boundary situation and the easy flow of people from the Commonwealth, London is chalk full of people from everywhere but England, here for a year or two before heading back home or perhaps just here for better pay than they have in Poland.

And then there are the English themselves. Being the reserved polite types, they are not ones to yell and curse or show garish affection for their capital. I think they get a little embarrassed almost at the idea of showing pride in these sorts of things. I liken this behavior to a great number of Catholics in America who have been deeply embedded with the idea that they need to feel guilty about just about everything. I'm pretty sure that if you went up to someone around here and said 'well isn't London just an amazing city?', you would get a bit of a mumbling answer where you're given a minor list of faults, and maybe a reference to the weather.

So does that mean I think less of London? By all means no. I think much of the charm of London comes from it's sense of humility. It has everything, but you are not constantly bombarded with the message that it has everything and therefore must 'heart' it and walk around decked out with merchandise claiming as much. But I must say, the cupcakes are better in NYC.

Land of the GIANT ticket

For some reason the English just can't go half-way when it comes to the size of event tickets. It has literally taken me this long to fully realize this, but they are literally all just unnaturally large. By now I have been to my fair share of concerts, sporting events and West End shows, and they all share one thing: GIANT TICKETS. You know how when you get tickets from, like, Ticketmaster and they are that skinny rectangle shape that you can easily put in your wallet? Basically all tickets you buy to things come in wallet-friendly sizes. This is not true in the land of the giant ticket.

Last night I went to see Phantom of the Opera, and happen to still have my ticket on me. I would say this ticket is very typical of the other tickets I've seen around these parts, although some are a bit more square. Anyways, it measures 5 5/8 inches by 3 1/4 inches, and this is after the end bit was ripped off when I went in so say it started out around 7 inches wide. Why must they be so big? Why? I am tossing out the 'so they're easier to keep track of' argument simply because they are too big to be put into a wallet, meaning you have to let them ride free-style in your bag, mixed in with your gum, keys, umbrella, kleenex and all that other stuff. They are also too big to really put in your pocket, if you had them in your back pocket you might as well have a sign that says 'take me, I'm easily grabbable' on them.

And the English seem really concerned with the environment, with all this carbon footprint let's ride our bikes stuff, but then they make tickets the size of small F-150s. There are like 30 major plays alone in London every night, not to mention concerts and other ticketed events, meaning thousands and thousands of tickets must be printed. Like a hundred trees must be sacrificed, at least, just to produce tickets to London events every day. Now, if they made the tickets normal size that would be like 50 trees a day saved.

I might also add that these tickets do not include any additional information to what is found on a normal size ticket. Sometimes there are pretty little backdrops, but these don't really add much to the experience from my point of view. If anything the smaller ticket would add to my enjoyment because I wouldn't have to go to so much trouble to find a place to put this giant ticket after entering the venue and could just stuff it in my pocket.

If you are ever in town and don't believe me, I shall show you my giant ticket collection. But only if space allows.

Waitangi Day, the countryside, and sports

So this is really three small blogs in one! Ooooh....

Saturday was Waitangi Day (or however it's spelled), which is New Zealand's national holiday. The London sub-set of Kiwis celebrate this revered national holiday by embarking on a Circle Line pub crawl. So if you were lucky enough to be on a circle line train between 10am (they start early) and 4pm last Saturday you were joined by way too many really loud drunken kiwis. The tour apparently ended at Westminster for some haka. Whatever the heck that is. Now on Saturday I was on a District Line train going to Victoria around 2pm, and 4 of the stops along the route are shared with the circle line, and we got delayed for some time at South Kensington with the doors open. Luckily as it was a district line train it was against the rules for the kiwis to board, but there were masses of them hanging out at that station, chewing the fat and putting back a few, some dressed up a bit, and quite a few talking loudly in their funny accents. So prevalent was this bunch that a) these stations were lined with cops and b) you could hear an audible boo when pulling into the station upon the masses realization that we were not a circle line train. Again, I just can't envision these sorts of things going down on the 4th of July.

I went to Emsworth over the weekend as well. This involved both driving through quite a few winding country roads past small villages, and a bit of walking as well. In the US for some reason I find the countryside inherently creepy (despite never having seen Deliverance) and feel like there are weird people with guns lurking in the dark, but I don't get this creepiness vibe in the countryside in these parts at all. Now I'm not completely sure why, but for some reason I find little brick English country houses less creepy than the wooden US counterpart perhaps set a slightly uncomfortable distance back from the road. And then I'm also pretty sure that it is very, very expensive to live in a quaint little countryside locale in those parts given the premium given to the countryside lifestyle. Anyways, that could be a whole thing on it's own, explored and explained thoroughly but let's leave it at that.

And finally, I had an epiphany watching the rugby yesterday about why these sports (aka, rugby and soccer) are destined never to fully catch on in the US: the clocks count up instead of counting down. I think the counting down of the clock, as seen in football, basketball, and hockey, adds a sense of drama to the game. Counting up, on the other hand, just gives me the feeling that they've been playing for an awful long time and it might as well go on forever. And as both rugby and soccer are done only in halves, not quarters or threes, they count up quite a bit, so you're like '32? Really, I've been sitting here watching people run up and down a field for 32 minutes??'. This is as opposed to 'There are only 8 minutes left! We're coming down to the wire!!'. Now maybe this is just me, but I feel like the Americans are really drawn to the whole counting down thing. Which I think makes sense. Like on New Years, people aren't going '364 days, 23 hours, 59 minutes and 54 seconds...' and so on. This argument doesn't apply to the whole cricket/baseball situation, but I think we all know cricket will never be popular in America because you just can't come up with as catchy a sayings to go along with wickets as home runs. Plus there's no seven inning stretch.

Legal again...

So I'm pleased to report that after nearly two weeks of legal limbo, I've received my new visa under the International Graduate Scheme. I can now live and work legally in the UK (but no public funds for me!) until the end of January 2009. Given my 'not quite right for the scheme' status, which is completely the University of Southampton's fault, I have been a bit wary about whether or not I would be successful in my application for the visa, so needless to say this is a huge relief. Having finally received the visa I needn't fear deportation for the remainder of the calendar year and feel like I can actually make plans for that time without the 'well it might not happen' voice in the back of me head. Oh, and perhaps most importantly, I can get my work contract extended, meaning I shall be able to pay for these plans I am making.

In addition, with the return of my passport I have now been re-elevated to 'actual person' status, and a) won't have to cancel my trip to Munich next week, b) can transfer money to myself at the bank, c) can hopefully finally discover the secret of what exactly my National Insurance number is.

While I'm sure it would be very exciting to discuss all of these things in depth, there were severe delays on the District Line this morning, delaying my arrival at work by approximately 40 minutes and thus cutting short my set aside blog-updating time!

Beer

It seems I must have done an entry about beer before, so if I have then forgive me for the over sight and you needn't pay much attention. Anyways, so beer. We are all familiar with the concept, so might as well delve into the particulars.

Stateside, the difference between lagers and ales are not often highlighted. This is due to two reasons, as far as I can tell. First, they are stored and served as if they are the same. Second, in Portland you will get looks of concern and a fair share of head shakes if you order lager so it's best avoided. Here of course, there is a large difference. Lagers are much more prevalent, and a 'typical' establishment with many beers on tap will usually feature a 'cheap' lager, usually Fosters, and then the ultimate level of premium lager is then dependent on the level of fanciness of the establishment. Some will just venture to Stella Artois, some bring in harder to pronounce German sounding varieties such as Staropramen and Hoegarden (which I assure you are both totally spelled wrong). You will not often find 'local' lagers, with most pubs sticking to the 'mass' brands, but they by all means exist in a substantial number of locations.

Ales also come in mass-produced varieties, with Newcastle Brown Ale coming first to mind, but pubs are more likely to sell smaller home-grown varieties of different types of ale. However, ales are not available at all drinking establishments. Of course real pubs will have ales, but bars tend not to. While lagers are stored in chilled kegs, ales are stored in unchilled barrel things with hand-pumped taps, hence the fancy look. This means they are not bubbly or particularly cold. Newcastle is an exception to all this, because unlike in the US, it is only available in bottle form, but as a result is usually chilled.

At the grocery store, you can buy beer in bottles or cans. Cans are tall and skinny, and bottles are either in around the 12oz variety or much larger circa 24oz bottles. The smaller bottles typically come in 4-packs (even things such as Corona are sold in 4-packs, it's annoying), and the larger bottles are sold individually. Places such as my local Tesco Express have large portions of fridge space dedicated to the major brands such as San Miguel and Kronenburg and such, and then to the side a much busier section with individual bottles of ales. I would say the most popular form of ale seen in these situations is IPA, although a considerable number to not claim affinity to a certain ale family. For example, the old speckled hen in my fridge right now just says its ale and is slightly pink in color. So not really sure what they're going for.

When beer is ordered on tap, the typical unit is a pint, which is 20 oz. Half pints are also available, but consuming one may get you branded a girly-man. Foam or head of any kind is completely and utterly unacceptable. If there is any present, the bartender will let it sit for a moment and then top it up, assuring as much beer as possible resides in your class.

In groups, drinks are typically bought in rounds. This has probably arisen from the fact that drinks in pubs are ordered from the bar, so buying drinks in this fashion means people don't have to get up as often. It seems to require that you either don't get your money's worth or you have to keep pace with everyone else. It's a tricky game and I'm not necessarily a fan. Although I must say that it means I have gotten quite a few free drinks at post-work situations!

Pancake Day

Today is Pancake Day. Or at least I'm pretty sure it's Pancake Day, so let's just roll like it is. However, due to an accidental jar opening incident, I'll be having chili for dinner tonight and not pancakes. My bad.

Speaking of pancakes and making food, I was casually flipping through my Nigella cookbook last night looking for some ideas on things to make while Mark was slaving away in the kitchen with all four burners and the oven going. Leisurely scanning some of the recipes, I realized that a great deal of English-English translation was necessary for the same cookbook to be sold in both the US and the UK. Now aside from changing most measurements from weight to volume (or volume to weight), there was a surprising number of other differences. Like, the ice cream cake. It was talking about cling film ('saran wrap') and chopping up Crunchies ('chocolate covered styrofoam candy bars'). And then if a recipe involves something like a specific type of potato that has to be taken into account as well. I've even heard that our tablespoons are different sizes and there are key differences between bicarbonate of soda and baking soda. Yet at the same time there is very little guidance available on these things.

So now I'm thinking that I shall become an English-English cookbook translator. While not fully qualified, I think a few months of intensive training would get me up to speed. I mean, you just need to know some densities (some of which I have found and I have successfully used English muffin recipes with American measuring devices) and some key terminology differences. And I can be like, no don't include that the other people will think it's horrible. Needless to say, I'm quite pleased with my new career plan. Or as the English would say, I'm quite chuffed.

Six Nations returns

Saturday marked the second happening of the annual rugby Six Nations tournament since I've been here. So after once again nearly dying in a morning spin class, we watched the first game of the tournament at home, which was Ireland versus Italy at 2pm, then around 3:30 we headed out to prepare for the viewing of the 4pm England versus Wales game. We first went to the Fest, but then left to check out the scene at Pitcher and Piano, where we decided things were more to our liking. Despite the fact that they were still celebrating their half price bottle of wine month, we were there to watch rugby so we got beers. Like apparently sitting there with a bottle of pink wine doesn't say 'grr, I'm watching men with thick necks and thighs the size of tree trunks bash into each other like animals'. Perhaps it says 'I'm watching men toss each other up in the air by the seat of their shorts like cheerleaders'. Anyways, we had beer.

After the national anthems were played, you know whatever the Wales one is and then that England business that we've ripped off and turned into some American patriotic song, I could have sworn I heard them playing the graduation song in the stadium. Not sure of what I was hearing, I asked Mark if they were playing the graduation song (aka, Pomp and Circumstance). He goes, you mean the Land of Hope and Glory? I said, no, the graduation song! And sang a few bars. So. I'm sad to say, the song that millions have Americans have graduated to in what some may term a fine American tradition, is also a patriotic England song with the above title. Apparently one of the most patriotic songs. And they don't use it to graduate to (I don't know what they do use, or if they even have a song for that). Like, what's up with that? Why must we have this wide array of songs that we both highly value but in completely different ways?

Back to the rundown of the task at hand. The game started out well enough but right at the end Wales scored a couple trys/touchdowns and ended up winning. In other news, I think a guy sort of standing by us was wearing a man thong. He reached his arms up at one point and I got a quick flash but I was not able to confirm the sighting after this. There was an interesting assortment of people present.

So back to the team. They of course are coming off their loss in the rugby World Cup final. And in my mind as they don't have to play New Zealand, Australia or South Africa, it seems like they should be able to do pretty well. But then they go and lose to Wales, who, by the way, had at least 3 players on the field at any time with the last name Jones. England has a new slightly controversial guy playing for their team, named, well I have no idea what his name is, but it's something a bit funky. He's controversial as he's actually a Kiwi but is now playing for England and I don't know how that works, but he put his hair in little braids with patriotic red and white bits intermixed, and then as soon as he came in made this awesome catch/interception/pass sort of play that earned England a try. But alas, it didn't make much difference in the end.

Aside from a whole lot of Jones, Charlotte Church's boyfriend type plays for Wales. Apparently together they are the Posh and Becks of Wales (which I don't think is saying much). After the game I felt obliged to learn more about this guy. He has a two-hour pre-game ritual that involves a nice bath, shaving his legs, applying self tanner and spending a considerable amount of time on his hair. Uh, yeah.

Pickle

Just a short one today! About everybody's favorite pasttime! You guessed it! Condiments!!!!

While I am personally not that big on condiments, I do live with what I shall term a big condiment fan. So I am exposed to the English-style use of a wide variety quite regularly.

For comparison purposes, I would say in the US the main-stays are ketchup, 'American' mustard, Dijon mustard, mayonnaise, and salsa. Of these, I generally partake of ketchup with fries and on burgers. And I like a bit of salsa. Oh, and let's say barbecue sauce. In addition to salsa, I'm working on incorporating these two into the English dialect - BBQ with chicken and apparently as a little snack to eat off your finger, salsa with scrambled eggs and tacos.

So on this side of the pond they again have the ketchup (on rare occasion termed 'red sauce'), mayonnaise, and mustard. Then things get trickier. In addition to mayo there is salad cream, which is sold next to mayo in the grocery store and essentially looks like mayo but smells different. I don't know if people put it on green salads, but Mark puts it on ham sandwiches and mixes it in with tuna. While we have the two main varieties of mustard, here there is a third, which is English mustard. It's more speckled than the unnaturally purely yellow French's brand variety, but less seedy than your Grey Poupon.

Then there is the ever-perplexing brown sauce. But I've come to believe it's just steak sauce. It's made by Heinz. There's some in my fridge. It may be used with steaks, but I don't ever have steak so I don't really know. It's most common usage involves being a dip for fries, or perhaps it's involved in eggs on toast, and ketchup is also used in both of these functions. They also use mayo with their fries sometimes, but I don't think I've seen salad cream used in such a role...

One that I totally don't get is the one I can't spell. Worchestershire sauce (pronounced 'Wooster')? It's a thin liquid that Mark does strange things with. He puts it in his tomato juice regularly, and then sometimes on things like pizza. It scares me so I don't really know what it tastes like.

In addition, the most commonly seenn form of the pickle is that of Branston pickle, which comes in a jar in what appears to be a really thick sauce. It's pickles in tiny little cubes combined with some kind of sauce, which is then spread on sandwiches. This creates such classics as the cheese and pickle. It's strange, but if you get a something and pickle sandwich, this is what you should expect!

And finally, a shout out to Brian the birthday boy! He'll be out partying tonight!! Hope it's a good one!