A Break From Blogging

I'm going away for a few days to a "surprise" location, John has told me.  It's Bank Holiday weekend (one of the many the UK has), so we've got Monday off and I have no idea where we're going, but I'm pretty darned excited, as I'm sure it'll be good.  More than good.  So if you're a regular reader (i.e. my mother), I'll see you back in a few days!  Besos.

Thursday Morning Tube Rant: Hi, Paris Hilton Called - She Wants Her Sunnies Back

Hi, person at Warwick Avenue tube station.  Love your new gladiator sandals - so this season, plus, gold is totally your color.  Isn't it great that the sun is FINALLY out and we have warm weather, just in time for the Bank Holiday this weekend?  What's that?  Oh yeah, I'm loving it too.  Ooh, nice sunnies.  Are those Tom Fords?  No?  Chanel?  Even better. 

One small problem:  YOU'RE UNDERGROUND.  Why do people like you insist on wearing your sunnies underground?  Do the bright lights of the train coming out of the tunnel provoke a seizure?  Or is it the the lights in the carriage itself that really bother you?  Do you wear them in winter too?  Don't worry, there isn't any paparazzi here, so you're safe from the flashing bulbs.  Oh, what, so you're not, like, a celebrity?  Wait - why do celebrities wear their sunnies indoors?  Oh they don't?  Just Paris?  And maybe the Kardashians?  Yeah, that's what I thought. 

Next time, be glad you weren't on this driver's train.  And mind the gap - that is, if you can see it.

Cycle To Work? I'd Actually Like To Live, Thanks.

This morning, as I crossed the busy Strand on my way to work, a cyclist furiously cycled past me, keeping pace with a builder's truck, all the while shouting invectives through the truck's window.  I was too far to hear what was being said, but I'm sure, without a doubt, the driver was at fault.

See, in my opinion, one shouldn't cycle in London unless one has a death wish.  And that person certainly isn't me.  I'd estimate about 40% of my colleagues cycle to work - maybe more, maybe less, but I'd say quite a large bunch.  And why wouldn't they?  It saves a LOT of money (travel to and from work costs me approximately £80 a month alone), is a great way to sneak in some exercise and is better for the environment - not to mention, you get to know London roads and routes really well. 

So with all these benefits, you'd think I'd be jumping on the bandwagon.  But not in London.  Not with the narrow roads, crazy drivers, and bendy buses (which measure about 60 feet in length).  No, thank you.  And almost all cyclists I know have been either knocked off their bikes by an errant driver or suffered a fall.  "Ohmygod, what did you do?" I asked my colleague, who had been sent flying through the air that very same morning by a car that rammed into the side of her when the driver failed to look both ways before turning.  "Well, there was one lady who was really nice and offered to call an ambulance because, well, I kind of flew off my bike, and landed on my hip, but I was too embarrassed.  So then she stayed with me and was really nice about it all.  It sucked though 'cause I had a 10 o'clock meeting here, but luckily I made it in time," she explained, shrugging.  She limped off as I stared after in disbelief.  A few weeks later, she was back on her bike and cycling to work again.  Something like that would probably put me off for life.

Of course, drivers are not always in the wrong.  I love it when cyclists speed through pedestrian crosswalks or red lights as if they don't apply to them.  Hello, if you're going to cycle on the ROAD, then maybe obey traffic laws as they apply to YOU?  Or the cyclists who are too trendy or cool to wear helmets.  You know, the ladies who think they're in the middle of the countryside, with their curls blowing in their hair and the Ray-Bans plus a baguette and some celery stalks tucked in their front wicker basket.  I resist sounding like my mother, but it isn't going to look so cool when your head is split open like a ripe summer's melon in the middle of Oxford Street (and before you say, "Who's stupid enough to cycle down Oxford Street?"  Uh, a lot of people). 

And yes, I know, there are "safer" routes where you can avoid busy intersections, etc. but no, the thought of weaving my way through any traffic and avoiding danger i.e. death, gives me sweaty palms.  Ultimately, I think in order to cycle safely, you've got to be experienced, confident and aware of the traffic rules - seeing as how I'm none of the above, I don't think I'll be cycling in the city for a while, unless it's in the confines of a park.  Tru dat. 

Photo source

Sunday Roast - Of Sorts

On Sunday, John and I didn't participate in the London Marathon, but for some reason, we still felt entitled to eating a full roast dinner.  Of sorts.  I say "of sorts" because technically we had a little help from Marks and Spencer and Asda.  Basically, we decided to combine forces of one upscale supermarket and one Walmart equivalent (afterall, Asda is a subsidiary of Wal-Mart) to make a quick and easy no-effort-necessary roast. 

The frozen peas and carrots and potatoes roasted in goose fat (£1, mind you) were the result of a weekend "big shop" at the Asda in Park Royal, about 20 minutes from our flat.  And since we had the car, we went a little crazy, which isn't difficult to do at Asda. 

Standing in the aisles of the major supermarket, I almost cried.  It felt like home.  I was surrounded by frozen pizzas, a chip/crisp aisle, donuts galore and rows and rows of bread - almost just like it is in the States.  "Just ... give me a minute," I said to John, choked with emotion by the fruit juices.  "There's so much ... choice."  "Ok," he said, shrugging, and moved on to the bread.  I felt like dropping to my knees and screaming with joy, "I CAN BUY IN BULK!!!  I CAN BUY IN BUUUULLKKKK!!!" to the horror of the other shoppers.  But I didn't.

In order to grasp my emotional reunion with what I like to call options in my grocery store, I must explain.  There are days when I walk into the Tesco Express or Metro after work and stand in front of the meat shelf for - oh, probably a good 8-10 minutes, staring with my mouth agape at my options which generally consist of: ground beef, lean ground beef, chicken breasts or diced chicken breasts.  I blink, but the four options don't change.  If you're lucky, you just might catch Tesco Express on a good day when pork medallions are available.  If so, then you need to snatch and run, baby, just snatch and run.  Doesn't matter if you don't know what to do with them, just buy them now, or be forever limited to beef, chicken or beef for the rest of the week (vegetarians don't have this problem, they just bypass the meat aisle all together and eat ... well, whatever vegetarians eat).

But I digress. 

Our meal of Marks & Spencer roast pork with crackling and Asda potatoes and veg was splendid.  Plus, there were enough leftovers for lunch next day, which always gains bonus points in my book.  And since we bought enough household supplies and food to feed a small family, it looks like we won't have to go grocery shopping for a while.  So nice.

My Secret Addiction: Muller Rice

I may bitch and moan and complain about the lack of snack foods available in the UK compared to the US, but one thing is for certain - I'm hooked on Muller yogurts.

When I first came over to the UK in 2005, I discovered the addictive Muller corners, which contained fruit compote (or broken up digestive biscuit bits, toffee hoops, or something called "choco balls" if you're feeling a bit more indulgent) in one corner and yogurt in the other.  Bend the little plastic thingy and mix with a spoon.  Et voila, you've officially entered yogurt heaven AKA snack time.

The second time I arrived in the UK was to complete an MA at the University of York and I found myself craving snacks during my afternoons of furiously typing up papers on Milton's monsters or Donne's death shroud (needless to say, it was a cheerful year).  In short, I became a Muller rice addict.  It didn't help that they were almost always on offer at my local Tesco and I filled my basket with the Vanilla Custard, Raspberry, Blueberry, Apple and Cherry flavors.  Rice pudding on top, fruit on the bottom.  Part of the fun is in the stir.  There's something uniquely satisfying about mixing in the fruit with the pudding to make a yummy taste sensation and feeling partly responsible (like, 1%) for the delicious results.

And in inspecting the label just now, I've seen that you can eat them either hot or cold.  Heaven.

Photo source

A Map of London

On my way to meet Bindy and Lauren yesterday at the finish line of the London Marathon, I grabbed my trusty and battered Philip's Street Atlas of London, just to help me a bit with navigation around St James' Park.  Although I tend to use Google maps these days for finding specific locations, my Philip's pocket map used to always accompany me any time I set foot outside my flat. 

I love this map not only because of its battered state, but also for its simplicity and the little annotations I've made in it along the way.  I love how its cover is discreet, rather than announcing to the world, "LONDON A-Z" (though I will admit the maps in London A-Z are superior to the ones in mine - they're a bit more ... thorough).  The London A-Z is bigger, spiral bound, and doesn't fit as easily into a handbag (which is always useful for us girls).  Nor does it have two lovely ribbons for you to mark your place.  Nor does it have a complete "notes section" where you can jot down important information, as I have below:

Flipping through the "notes" section of my map yesterday evoked some serious nostalgia.  On the left page, I had, for some reason, found it entirely necessary to write out by hand the appropriate bus schedules in Oxford when I took my dad there for a day trip, ensuring our travels ran smoothly and highlighting my control/anxiety issues (I like my completely useless, shaky, and random line map - of what exactly?  I still have no clue). 

On the top right of the right page is the address of Fresh Start, an organization that Udita had an interview at during a flying visit to London and which she had forgotten to jot down the address for.  It brought back memories of an overpriced cab trip through central London during rush hour and making it just in time for her interview there. 

The blue scrawl immediately below reminds me of the time I wrote, both tearfully and hastily, the bus information for the hospital Sophia had been admitted to in Hackney, during a brief illness last year.  Although it was difficult to locate, my Philip's map helped me every step of the way. 

And thus, something so insignificant and well, so brown, has helped me get around London, get to know the city I've been living in, and in a way, helped me get to know myself in this new and strange place.

If you're new to London (or even if you've been here for a while), I highly recommend buying one here for £5.91.  They come in a variety of colors and patiently wait for you to make them your own.

The London Marathon

I've managed to catch a glimpse of the London Marathon for every year I've lived in London (this is my third) and I've never ceased to be amazed at the sight of 35,000 runners pounding their way through some of London's most scenic routes.  But this was the first time I knew someone actually runnning in the race, which made it extra special.  Lauren finished in an amazing time of 3 hours, 51 minutes, 47 seconds - a mind-blowing achievement.  Although I have no plans on running next year's event (I'm having enough trouble preparing for the Asics British London 10k I'm doing in July), Udita sent me an email yesterday saying she was thinking of entering the ballot for the 2011 London Marathon, so I just might be there again next year cheering her on.  Think my next goal after the 10k will be a half marathon and then possibly a full marathon in a couple of years.  Baby steps, people, baby steps. 

In the meantime, congratulations, Lauren!

Photo courtesy of Bindya Solanki