Sleep Tight

Even bedding is not the same here in England. At home, we are used to a simple bedding system: fitted sheet, top sheet, blanket and then the fancy comforter. When I first got here, I thought perhaps the bedding issue was due to the dumpiness of my former flat. I have come to find that all places share the bedding issue; I've stayed at the dump in Islington, two nights in the posh Bloomsbury Hotel, a night in a swanky boutique hotel in Canterbury and now my homey flat in the West End, and the bedding is all the same. Here, they use an oversized top sheet as the mattress coverage and a duvet that is stuffed with a down comforter -- and that is it. Now, there are many perplexities here to ponder and discuss. 

First, why no fitted sheet (kind of like why no round toilet seats and mounted shower heads)? Anyone who is a fitful sleeper knows that even the best fitting fitted sheet can slip up over the mattress corners, imagine a flat sheet merely tucked in under the mattress? Disaster. 

Second, why no top sheet (kind of like why no long shower curtains)? Top sheets are nice to have because if you get too warm at night you can throw back your blanket and still have some coverage. And more importantly, if hotels are only using the duvet system, are we to believe that they change the duvet every time a new guest checks in? I'd like to think so because the germ ramifications are both nauseating and immoral. I do take some comfort (no pun intended?) in knowing that the women who comes to change my bedding and supply new towels does indeed change the duvet every week. 

Third, consider the annoyance factor. If any of you have ever used a duvet, you know how tiresome and frustrating  it is to get the down comforter out and back in! It is like a mini-marathon of sorts. As a matter of fact, a laundry detergent commercial here uses that very premise; the woman is struggling with her duvet and she has to climb into it and it becomes a long, dark labrynth and she gets lost and upset but then she smells something fragrant and beautiful and she crawls through and finds a sunny field of flowers (symbolic for the great-smelling detergent). Now imagine, if you will, changing these things weekly? You would have to change them weekly because there is no barrier top sheet to keep germs and loose skin cells off the duvet (ewww). 

On Monday, Adrian came in and said he couldn't wait for his wife to return from a long weekend at the beach; she had taken the boys and he had been lonely all weekend.

"I was so bloody bored I decided change to all the summer duvets for my wife. Those things are a nuisance." I was touched by both his sadness at being alone and his doing something nice for his wife in her absence. But, I was more interested in this summer duvet versus the winter duvet disclosure. 

"What's with the duvet system here?"  The Jersey girl in me came out.  Adrian laughed. He went on to tell me that there are duvet "weights" -- heavier (more feathers) for winter and lighter (less feathers) for summer.  He also explained that it wasn't always like this; according to Adrian's recollection, up until the 70's they had regular sheets like we do but then the sudden change to the duvet and sheets were sent packing. Now, dear reader, I felt obligated to research this phenomenon for you and I found a lot of interesting facts about duvets. 

1) Duvets are actually the comforters and the cover itself is actually the duvet cover (duh!); for the sake of simplicity and sanity, I will continue to use the word duvet rather than switch back and forth

2) Duvets (and their covers!) were invented by the rural English around the 17th Century

3) Duvets are derived from laziness! After extensive research (ok, a few google searches) I found that the whole reason for a duvet is, "Duvets reduce the complexity of making a bed, as it is a single covering instead of the combination of bed sheets, blankets, and quilts or other bed covers."  We Americans are known for our work ethic, thus our commitment to sheets, blankets and quilts.

If you'd like to learn more about this strange European love of duvets, just google, "why do Brits use duvets" and you will find a plethora of blogs and sites talking about this topic. 

Sleeping Sheetless in London,

The Temporary European

Boyles on Humanity

It would appear that our friends across the pond are finally succumbing to reality TV. This is not to say that reality TV hasn't reared it's ugly head before now, but up until recently it hadn't completely penetrated the mass public. But thanks to Simon Cowll and Britian’s Got Talent, Brits have become more American than they’d like to admit, and are completely addicted to brainless TV. Perhaps I should consider myself fortunate to be here during the Susan Boyle rise and fall but it does make me a bit sad to see our accented friends acting like complete idiots over this nonsense. Need I remind us of our idiocy over Richard Hatch (Survivor) and his after-winning mayhem? Or our obsession with Anna Nicole Smith and her drug-induced monologues on her reality show (sad that she appears to have been murdered over the money the show earned her). Some may snicker in delight as we witness our kin across the pond lower themselves to the likes of "Has Susan Gone Mad?," and "Susan Uses The F Word" headlines but I worry. I worry that if the Brits were the last fortresses for English speakers' esteem, respect for higher education and if nothing else, mastery of the English language, then we are all doomed.

But, I find some hope in the future of English speaking humanity here in London; thankfully, the Brits have not succumb to the nasty American habit of clapping and cheering when an unfortunate waiter or waitress drops and breaks a cup or plate. The Brits let the moment pass unnoticed as the dropper quickly picks up the item and carries on with the least amount of humiliation possible. I'm going to ignore the Susan Boyle phenomenon and spare the Brits some humiliation as I hope (and pray) that they recover their senses and find their way back to the BBC.

City Sunbathing

The parks in London are truly fabulous. I've been to numerous little parks and squares as well as the infamous Hyde Park. Today I ventured to Regant's Park which is just a fifteen minute walk from my flat (well, fifteen minutes for those of you who don't get lost finding your way out of a paper bag.)  Regent's and Hyde are tremendous in size and are host to cafes, man-made ponds, fountains and much, much more. Not being a city gal, I've only ever seen photos of people hanging out in Central Park, NY in the summer. Sure, I've strolled through the park on sunny days but I'd never come across those real city folk who don their bathing suits in the park. I always wondered how odd it would feel to be in the middle of the city, in a bathing suit without a swimming hole in sight. Today, I played the part of city gal, and I rented a chair in Regent's Park (£1.5o for two and 1/2 hours, not a bad deal) and sunned myself with all the other city people. Okay, I wore a tank a skirt; I still don't feel comfortable wearing a bathing suit in the literal middle of a city). But, I was there with a sandwich, ipod, a good book and a newly purchased beach (?) towel from Marks and Spencer (I'll tell you about M&S at a later date) along with hundreds of others. The park experience was interesting-- people in bathing suits, people drinking champagne and wine, even people celebrating a one year birthday party in the park complete with Thomas the Train helium balloons. There was water but it was only decent for the many swimming fowl (geese, swans, ducks and some other unidentifiable feathered friends). The closest you could get to the water was in a rented paddle boat which just seemed like too much work so I passed. Some people came to the park unexpectedly and decided to sun bathe in their underwear, others were planned right down to the fancy bikinis and matching covering ups.  The sun worshippers were as diverse as their attire -- I heard German, Italian, French and some English being spoken.  The one thing we all had in common is that we wanted to be outside on this unusually warm May day and we were either too cheap, too poor or too tired to take the two hour train ride to the beach. 

My mom will be proud to know, I wore my sunscreen; I can't say the same for all the other park lovers and red skin was abound. I find that no matter the country, most people can't seem to grasp the idea of sunscreen. Ah, humanity.

A Little Help From My Friends

Yeah, yeah, I know that's the title of a Beatles song but they were from England and this blog is dedicated to my friends so it's fitting for a blog.

All of my family and friends have been extremely supportive during my time here in London but I have to give a "type out" to Nadia, Jenn, Fran and Stacey. With the likes of email, blackberry messenger, facebook and skype, I am in constant contact with these ladies at every moment of every day.  I am convinced we are solely responsible for clogging up the cyber super highway.  All the ladies have me covered from the start of my day until the very end. Please see schedule below:

Nadia and Stacey are my early rising friends -- they get me through my mornings while the rest of my back home people are still sleeping and getting settled into work.

Jenn jumps onto the electronic bandwagon around 9am USA time and stays with me straight for the remainder of my work day.

Fran picks up the nightshift and we talk on skype until it's time for me to hit the sack, or Alex needs a nap  :) 

P.S. Stacey BB messengers during breaks in her school day and Nadia checks in on me during her train ride home.

No worries that here in London I’ll find better friends than the ones I have at home; no one can ever compare to my Soul Sisters. Thanks ladies, I honestly don't think I could have made it this long without your love and support.

Love,

The Temporary European

So Close But Yet So Far

When I was in high school, my AP Brit Lit teacher, Mrs. Michaels, gave an assignment to read any British novel and write a paper on said novel. This paper was the real deal -- footnotes and references, a thesis statement -- all the stuff I was no where near prepared for at the time (need I remind you that computers were not yet a household item rather electric typewriters and those plastic whiteout strips reigned). 

I searched that two page list of titles and my head hurt at the thought of reading some stuffy old book by some dead Englishmen. I decided to cross out all the novels written by men and see what the women had to offer. As you can imagine, that left me with a very short list. And there, at the top of the list, were the names of two sisters, Charlotte and Emily Bronte.  Jane Eyre sounded too simple but Wuthering Heights, now that seemed dark and tragic (just like I loved my literature!). Needless to say, I fell in love with Catherine, Heathcliff and the moors. I was so enamored with the book, I finished it in a week and I made multiple trips to the school library (no internet research folks, this is 1987) and read all I could about Emily and her family.  I was so sad to discover that Emily didn't write any other novels because she died so young -- I actually cried. I loved this family with its sensitive sisters and unruly brother.  They were plagued with illness and died very young, yet somehow despite their sequestered lives, they produced some of the best British Literature that survives in the literary canons to this day. 

I went on to read everything I could find that any of the Brontes had ever written. As my literary life grew, so did my readings of the Brontes; biographies, literary criticism, articles and the like. I could envision the little parsonage they grew up in and I could see the rolling hills outside of Emily's bedroom window. In some ways, I feel like I've been there, but I haven't. Not yet. 

Haworth, their little hamlet, is a two hour train ride from London (imagine the trip back then!) and will require an overnight stay at a little B&B.  Despite the journey ahead of me, I will go to their home and walk their garden and put my hand on the very staircase banister that Emily held onto when she went up the stairs of her home for the last time before she died in confinement in her little room.  

I'm sure you can sense my passion for the Brontes after reading this blog; imagine my post after I've gone to their home! I may be speechless and beyond the written word for a while, but I will definitely recover and tell you all about it. 

Love,

The Temporary European yearning for the little village of Haworth

PS Despite additionally reading Jane Eyre and doing a paper on both sisters and their works, Mrs. Michaels gave me a C; she said my thesis was too weak. Sadly, she was too jaded to realize she had inspired a student to read not one but two books, start a life-long love of literature and plant the seed that eventually led to a doctorate in literature. Sad, sad, sad, for her. 

New Jersey is a State of Mind Not Just A Place I Call Home

I'm glad that as my blog title says I'm only temporarily here in Europe. I miss my family and friends and I miss my home state. I want to dedicate this blog to New Jersey, whose name origniates from a British island in the English Channel.

Yes, our taxes are high. Yes, we have a corrupt government system. And yes, we have a lot of traffic. But quite honestly, it's yes to all those things here too and I assume it's the same in many other places. It's easy to get caught up in the "hating NJ" hype but New Jersey has a lot to offer whether you love the city or the country (or both, as I do).  New Jersey's varied, stellar qualities are a well-kept secret; many think New Jersey is nothing but shipyards and oil tanks thanks to the view from Newark airport. Those parts of New Jersey are the defenses that keep too many from discovering our state and overpopulating it even more.

My state is home to the best tomatoes, the best malls, Hot Dog Johnny's, Princeton, Thomas Edison, The Boss, the Sopranos and the best beaches and beach communities anywhere (and that's just the short list).  But the things I miss the most about New Jersey are not easily put into words because they are intangible yet vivid and comfortably familiar when recognized by the senses. During May, in particular, there is an undercurrent of anticipation that dwells in the very fiber of a true NJ native; it is the yearning for summer that can't be controlled and is easily set off by the nose's keen awareness of the first scent of Summer. Summer smells distinctly different from Spring; it's a heavier smell and carries with it the impending humidity and flecking off of the trees and flowers as they drink in the sun. It's the birds' wings stirring up the makings of their nests as their baby birds start each day anew.  It's the grass in the morning still covered with dew before the sun strikes it hot and sizzles the wetness away. 

More literally, there is the anticipation of the perfect beach day, the expectation of grilling burgers and hot dogs, the intoxicating smell of coconut suntan lotion and extended sunlit hours that allow a few more minutes on the deck/at the lake/on the boat. 

I miss the anticipation of May and if you are lucky enough to be in New Jersey as you read this, go outside and breathe in deep and think of me. Let your toes wiggle as they anticipate flip flops and smile because it's almost summer in New Jersey.

My Heart is Forever in New Jersey even if my physicality is, The Temporary European.

Deep (London) Thoughts

Part One of a series:

London is considered to be among the best world cities, New York is number 1 (and for good reason folks!), but here are some things that make the London ranking a real head scratcher;

1. What's with the random one way streets that make no bloody sense? Try getting a bus in a city where one way streets reign. Your return street could be anywhere!

2.  Fabric seats on commuter trains? I appreciate the cushioning for my bum but I want to burn my clothes after sitting on those germ havens...seriously.

3. Black cabs -- Yes, they symbolize London for all of us but have you ever tried to get out of one gracefully? The combination of the low rounded door entry and the ridiculous height from the ground results in a near crawling out of the cab onto the street. Note to self: Never wear low cut blouse or skirt when traveling by cab.

4. Pickles -- I have yet to get one pickle with any burger or chicken sandwich. What gives? What do pregnant English women crave??

5. The bathrooms: Now this actually could be a post of its own but I will keep it short for the purposes of this blog entry; May I ask, what is wrong with a mounted shower head? And why are the tubs all so bloody high? Toilets should be ROUND, I have yet to meet anyone with a square ass. Shower curtains should reach the floor and go ALL the way around the tub/shower. And finally, wash clothes are a must!

6. Bikers from hell: This city has THE craziest bike riders ever. They ignore traffic lights and signs and they have no qualms about running into you. A girl at work was hit by a biker her first week in London and she spent a week in the hospital. The police don't seem to care about the bikers gone mad.

7. Speaking of police, they need Clinton and Stacy here, badly. Yes, there are some wonderful boutiques and forward-thinking designers that hail from London but the people in the streets are a gaggle of Vogue's fashion dont's. It hurts the eyes.

8. To seat myself or not? That is the question you will be plagued with here in London when it's time to eat. I think I have finally figured out that at a truly British restaurant you must find a table, peruse the menu, then place your order at the bar/hostess stand and then go back to your table and wait for your food. HATE that. It's especially hard when dining alone as you must carry all your belongings to the bar and hope someone doesn't snag your table while you are ordering. My solution, don't go to British restaurants opt for Italian or simple Cafes.  

9. WiFi-less! They are just catching up with the times...and the real kicker is, we can thank Starbucks for the WiFi that is available. No one here thought of equipping cafes, coffee shops, hotels and even their homes with WiFi until the coffee gurus introduced the idea. My love for Starbucks continues to grow.

10. Beauty Treatments MIA! It appears that the classism we read about as students in British Literature is alive and well here in England. Until recently, beauty treatments such as waxing, manicures and pedicures were purely an upper class luxury. As a result, the Spas and Nail Salons are sparse, even in the posh hoods, and the services are still on the expensive side. American woman truly are seen as pampered divas with money to spare! A simple mani + pedi puts you in the elite class. 

A friend from home put it so well when we were discussing London. He said, "It's a great city but it's like going to New York City, circa 1975."  

I'm sure as I continue to live here I'll find more Deep London Thoughts to share with you. In fairness though, I will say that London has the BEST public transportation system ever; it's safe and easy.  And of course, the history and architecture are tremendous. 

Missing home,

The Temporary European