In appreciation of...

After almost 8 months of residence in London, I don't find the people difficult, grating, or generally strange, much unlike Paris. This makes for a generally less interesting, if more harmonious existence.

This said, I can't say as I mind being generally awash with pleasantness. It's the softer corners of London that make it a more liveable place. (Although this may make a potentially a less interesting blog)

Just how soft are these corners? It's not that London's not edgy, but it just doesn't have that New York bitterness. I do resent the idea that Londoners, and Brits in general, sort of fop around and stutter, (The Hugh Grant Theory), but there is a certain overpoliteness that permeates every aspect of life.

Take for example, my part-time job. I work in a converted 19th century shop, one of 3/4 employees that can fit in the store at any given point. We do sandwiches at lunch time, and I am essentially, as my super fabulous gay boss put it, "The Sandwich Queen."

I manage the 25 or so bankers/magic circle lawyers that queue patiently outside our storefront.
Now, enter the overpoliteness.

Imagine this scenario. James X comes in, and immediately looks to the 10 people standing in the queue in the store, as if he's affronted them just by entering. I almost expect a sincere, "Oh so sorry, am I breathing the same air? Ever so sorry."

He looks to the menu. Now, this is a man who has most likely gone to Oxbridge for his degree, been fast-tracked into one of London's most lucrative careers, but spends a solid 10 minute staring at the menu in complete confusion. Finally, he looks up.

I make eye contact, suggesting, subtly, that he may like to order. He looks around again, just to confirm that uttering the phrase "Ham and Chutney on granary bread, please" won't send anyone else into a crisis of nerves.

"I'm sorry, we're out of ham," I offer, with a pitying look. "Oh, um...right. Right," he mutters, spiralling back into confusion. I then volley back the apologies, just to make absolutely certain he's not disappointed AND offended. "Yes, I'm very sorry, we've had [aliens take away the ham slicer/a severe European pig shortage/a case of flying ham] this morning."

Now, god help us if two identical orders come up in short succession. I've only studied Arbitration Law briefly, but from what I can tell, the deliberation between two lawyers over a sandwich is far more intense. Both hands, equipped with family crest rings, go forward, men uttering in call-and-response style:

"Right, well, sure it's...oh, right....surely it's yours...yes, right. Cheers, thank you...cheers..."

All this said, we do have a few jerks who stride in and bark their sandwich orders, regardless of who may be standing in line, or who may faint from impoliteness.

They're all French.
You can't make this stuff up.

Latvian humour

Imagine this pathway of websites, if you will.
I'm desperate to go on holiday. (In defense of my use of the word "holiday", I say that Madonna's "Holiday" trumps the Go-Go's "Vacation," no question)

Step 1: www.skyscanner.net allows you to search the cheapest destinations for your departure city. Latvia tops the list for London in June.

Step 2: Latvia? Current knowledge limited to Post-soviet Baltic State and a Seinfeld episode. www.wikipedia.org.

Step 3: Under "Latvia" article, is a link to "Latvian Humour."

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Latvian_humour

(imagine it being read in a very very slavic old man's voice, I'm thinkin' Billy Crystal as Miracle Max in Princess Bride)

Latvian humour
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

Latvian humour often has jokes from different places around the world, as well as some influence from Russian humour and some jokes shared with Estonia and Lithuania. People from Latgale are often the target of Latvian jokes.

Some Latvian jokes play on the high numbers of Russians living in Latvia.

An old Latvian is walking down the street, sees a person that has just been killed by a falling brick and complains "Pity that a Latvian dies when there are so few Latvians." A bystander tells him that it is a Russian, not a Latvian, and the old man complains "Damn! There are so many Russians here so that there is not enough room for a brick to hit the ground."


Hilarious in ways I'm sure the authors never intended. Oh man. I need to stop laughing long enough to actually plan this holiday.

The Worst Time To...

Clever NYT forum...

While the following post is pretty heart-wrenching, the response says it all...



Best thing to do last Saturday night, 24 March at 1830:
Help out your friend up at Landstuhl Regional Medical Center who is comforting his son’s best friend who just lost both of his legs in Iraq.
Be with him as his son’s buddy keeps waking up from the drugs, realizing he has lost his legs, drifts to sleep, then wakes up 3 hours later to learn they are missing yet again.
Be with him as they have to cut away more of the dead material, realizing that there will be just about nothing left to which a prosthetic can be attached.
Be with him as he writes his son’s buddy’s mom about what is going on - how strong and hopeful and brave her son is. How amazing our faith is, whatever the religion.
Be with him as his son’s buddy calls his callsign out in his dreams, and the names of his mates in the humvee, all five of whom died on the scene.
America, this is happening every day.

— Posted by Jake




Worst place to post a heartbreaking Iraq story, probably ‘dramatized’: In a forum about eating out and buying cars.

— Posted by Candy

The best of The off-facebook photo series

Flotsam and jetsam from the past long while.

Hungarian houses of parliament, awesome old trams:



Parisian garbage men:



Milton. The Fiercest cat around.



The Old Course. St. Andrew's.














Dubrovnik, Croatia.


Covered Market, Barcelona.

fat and razy americans!

My postings seem more and more reminiscent of the front half of Atlantic Monthly. Hey, you want a novel? Read a book. This is a blog.

So, in keeping with the trend of copping out, I'm going to compile my favorite back-handed anti-American insults in no particular order of ridiculousness.

1. (as I'm walking up 5 flights of stairs w/another British girl)
me, oct.2006: "Man, I'm so out of shape" (or some idle small talk along those lines)
british girl: "Don't worry you'll get used to the walking"

I came almost directly from Paris, slut. Why don't you call me a fat, lazy American and save both of us some time.

2. me: "Yeah, I'm doing an LLM in Islamic Law."
british man: "Islamic Law? That's progressive for an American!"

There are so many sarky responses to that comment, I don't even know where to begin. Guy ended up being really pleasant in the end, but, really. I had to do my best from jabbing my heel into his eye. Or stoning him. (heh)


3. (potential house viewer #1): "Well, the flat's lovely and i do really love Americans..."
Thank you, I think? For once, it's nice to be in a desirable minority. Awesome! I'm a commodity !

4. (every French person, just generally) "C'est trop Americain, ca..."
(in just about every situation)
You could be sitting next to a Parisian who is eating a cheeseburger and fries, and order yourself a portion. "God, you're so American!" they'd scoff. Whereas, luckily, un cheeseburgeur is oh-so-French.

Gah! I'm drawing a blank here, but this is really just the tip of the iceberg.
Look for updates. Peoples' pre-conceptions about America/Americans never cease to amaze me. Almost as amazing as Americans' perceptions of Europe.

xoxo

Staring at the asphalt wondering...

Here's a game kids: How to best sum up all the places you've lived. Write what's in a five block radius around it.
It's kind of funny on paper, innit?
Feel free to play along.

Paris:
Boulevard Emile Augier, 16th arrondissement
Boulangeries: 2
Grocery Stores:0
Laundromats: -1 (you had to practically walk into a new arrondissement)
Florists:1
Upscale designer thriftshop:1
Snooty Oyster restaurant: 1

London flat #1
Essex Road, N1
Bingo Halls: 1
Pubs: 2 within a 1/2 block
SPAR: 1
Taxidermists: 1 (really)
Cafe: 1
Fishmongers:1
Butchers:1
Fruiterers:1

London flat #2
Cheshire Street, E2
Art Galleries: 1
Independent Video Shop:1
Independent Jewelry Designer: 1
Independent Interior Design store:2
Retro Interior Design store:1
Anything not independent: 0
Leather Shops:4
Curry Houses: 100
Tesco:0
Illegal vendors on Sunday: dozens, if not hundreds

back to writing.
"freelance writing" should have a disclaimer on "needing self motivation" argh.
f

An exception

I don't typically like to devote blog entries to websites, but this is too cool.
http://postsecret.blogspot.com/

The concept is you send this guy your secrets on a postcard. He scans them and publishes them on this blog.

(take a minute to let that sink in)

Some are absolutely amazing, and to be honest, it seems far too interesting and important a project to be just on a blog. Kind of like my blog. Just kidding.
(Thanks mowry, for the site)