Project Smile London

To commemorate my last 15 days in London, I have begun Project Smile London. As I've mentioned before, the pace here is beyond hectic and the inhabitants can be sullen, sour and pent up. Before I leave, I want to impart a bit of happiness to random strangers and hope that it will be contagious and spread - hey, better to spread cheer than the dreaded swine flu!

Perhaps it is my utter joy at the thought of returning home but as I got off at the Holborn station I couldn't help but smile at all the rushing people around me. No, I was not gloating about the fact that in 16 days I'll be in the solitary, air-conditioned comfort of my own car (ok, maybe a little...) but I really felt bad for all these people scowling so early in the morning. The first man to receive my random act of kindness (hey, he was cute which is another rarity here in London) was shocked -- I cannot emphasize enough the fact that a mere smile can stop people in their tracks here -- but he didn't have time to smile back because I was swept along with the commuting crowd; I think I made a small, positive impact on his day.

Emerging into the sunlight, I continued Project Smile London and was pleased and amused by people's reactions.  Now let me say that it is important to make the distinction between a gaping, goofy smile that will just frighten people and a subtle smile that uplifts the face and makes your eyes friendly and warm. I have perfected the latter and that is the smile I am using on the people in London. Some people reluctantly smile back and others just stare back confused. My smile didn't have any power with my cranky bus driver. I even added a "Good Morning" to the smile but he didn't even look my way. Oh well, I wouldn't let my project be dashed to bits.

I know the power of the random smile because I have been given this gift a few times in London and upon receiving those rare gems, they have made me forget my worries, even if for a moment or two, and temporarily restored my faith in humanity. Come to think of it, I could call my little experiment Project Humanity because that is what I am trying to spread here in London, a little more humanity. Ironically, I got some more insight into the mind of Londoners on a Jack the Ripper Walking Tour; our guide, Philip, a 35 year old London-native, shared with me his views of London and how the city has really spiraled into a complete loss of British-ness (if you will). I felt sad as he told me how the proper London he knew as a youth has slowly slipped away. Apparently, there wasn't always as much spitting on the street, awkward silences on the tube and unwillingness to help lost strangers and tourists. Philip told me that when he was younger, people were friendlier and had more manners and plain old decency. I sighed along with him because the London he had lost was the one I was expecting to find. Please, dear reader, don't be confused, I like London and respect its history, nobility and grace but those things are embedded in the inanimate objects, no longer the people. The true Londoners are defeated and saddened by the evolution of the city's population. I share this sadness because the city does have so much to offer but you really have to cut through the unruly teens, uncontrolled crowds and bad manners. 

I can only hope that Project Smile London takes hold and that the city accepts my  humble offering to try and make things better. For all those Londoners like Philip, I hope the pendulum swings back and London is once again the mecca of manners and kindness it once was.

The Temporary European

Inherited Chaos

My cousin-in-law and dear friend, Jackie, calls me "The Debacle Kid." Those of you who know me well can understand why but in my defense, I don't seek debacles they seek me. After spending ten days in Europe with my mom and aunt, I now realize that being prone to debacles is genetic. Yes, genetic; some of us are predispositioned for more debacles than others and my gene comes from my mom's side of the family. I know this because even when they weren't with me, my mom and aunt encountered calamities that I thought only happened to me.

See examples of debacles below:

Debacles with Me

Our 2 1/2 day trip to Ireland was cut short due to Air Lingus' sudden desire to switch us from a 9:05 am flight to a 12:30 pm flight (with no prior notice), as a result we didn't get to our hotel in Cork until well after 3 and most of the day was wasted; so we went to a pub!

Our trips into the center of Cork to catch buses or meals had to be methodically planned as the road to our B&B closed the day before our arrival and buses had no access while taxi access was limited -- did I mention that the B&B was at the top of a very steep hill? It was reminiscent of some hills I've encountered in San Fran, seriously. Please close your eyes for a moment and picture me, my mom and my aunt pulling suitcases up said hill after having traveled since 8 am. As MasterCard says, Priceless!

We missed the Ring of Kerry Tour because a woman at the B&B told us we couldn't make it to the tour bus in time but when we went to Killarney the next day we found out from the elderly tourist information matron that we could have gotten a later bus directly from the tourist information office.

We had to cut our visit to Killarney short because of the limited bus schedules back to Cork and the Cork airport (no castle visit for us there).

We sat in the airport for 4 hours (yes, we could have stayed in Killarney longer!) because our flight was delayed due to massive thunder and lightening in London. Did you know that lightening and thunder are rare in London? Hmmmm. Anyone smell a debacle?

Debacles Without Me

Need I remind you of the Continental plane that turned around...?

They missed their tour to Stonehenge because the new guy at the Original London Tours office wrote down the wrong departure time. No refund.

Random Debacles

Last minute day-trip to Paris results in some disappointment as the Louvre was closed and the Eiffel Tower closed early (due to Bastille Day!). PS Paris is not gluten-free friendly (my mom has celiac's disease and nearly starved!)

After waiting to see the Tower of London for 2 1/2 months, I went on the only day of constant rain and the Beefeater ended the tour after some dumb tourists opened their umbrellas after the strict Beefeater said not to; we paid an additional £3.50 for lame audio tour.

In tribute to my proclivity for fiascos/disasters/calamities, I have decided to embrace that which I cannot change and I have created a new word to celebrate these misfortunes; I am proud to announce debaclicious! I figure I should savor the delicious aspect of my debacles and pay homage to the absurdity they cause in my life.

So, the next time your car runs out of gas on the day you realize you didn't renew your AAA membership, feel honored that you are experiencing a moment so large it is debaclicious. If you find yourself stranded at the corner of a seedy street in a foreign city and finally find a bus but can't get on because your metro card expired -- that is debaclicious! I think you get it, so publish a post and tell me about the debaclicious moments in your life -- they don't only happen in Europe -- if only that were true, I would know that in 23 days I'd be leaving all my debacles behind.

Expanding the Lexicon One Word At A Time,

The Temporary European

Have Nots

So I have no top sheet, had to purchase wash clothes, I am suffering through a hanger shortage and I must walk up 4 flights to get to my teeny, tiny flat (with no coffee table, dishwasher or air conditioning), yet I have remained positive and optimistic. But when I was stripped of my laptop, it was the last straw and my perfected British stiff upper lip began to quiver. I will not go into the annoying details of the how and why, but I was without a home (flat) computer for four days. As you can imagine, I was not very happy.

In this day and age, you can take a lot away from us modern humans, but computers are sacred and must not be tampered with, especially since I use my computer on nights and weekends to keep in touch with my family and friends so far away and 5 hours behind in time. And let's not forget my commitment to this blog, and my writing in general. Perhaps city living is just grinding on my nerves a bit too much, but I have lost a lot of my patience over the last week or so and the computer debacle put me over the proverbial edge. At any given time I can rattle off the things that make me utterly insane here in jolly old London; the tube is annoyingly hot, the tourists walk too slow on Oxford street, I'm sick of my feet getting filthy when I wear sandals and I miss lemonade. I know these are random thoughts but at the moment these are the things that are on my mind. In another few moments, I will have a completely new list of annoyances just as random. I blame this varied thought process on the city's constant assault on all of my senses. For example, at my flat there is an industrial fan that runs from 10:30am until 11:3opm daily at the restaurant below. Throughout the day or evening, I find myself holding my breath or feeling annoyed and it isn't until that damned hum stops that I realize the tension it unknowingly causes. I am nearing the end of this exchange program and I am thankful. I only hope my sanity holds out; I am fearful of returning home either a jabbering idiot or a complete meanie.

The good news is I have a laptop again. Maybe since I am reconnected with America once again, I will feel calmer, more patient and resilient enough to ward off the forces of this chaotic city.

Serenity Now...

The (Frazzled) Temporary European

Flight Status

So, my aunt and mother have come to visit me in London. For both, it is a first-time visit and a chance to spend some quality time with me and one another. But this is not a sappy little story about three female family members exploring Europe; this is a saga about how my mother and aunt were able to get a Continental 727 to return from the tarmac to pick up said aunt. Yes, you read correctly, an entire plane full of people on a direct flight to London was turned around to pick up my Auntie Ann.
I am proud to come from a family of strong women, on both sides, but this event has taken our many stories to new levels. It all started at 7am London time (11pm Los Angeles time) with text messages from my aunt saying she was delayed due to bad weather and she was concerned she wouldn't make the connecting 9am (NJ time) flight that my mother would be on. I was worried too when I checked her flight status and she would only have 5 minutes from the time she landed to get onto the London flight. I tried to remain optimistic and not alarm my mother who is afraid to fly and could only make the trip with the company of her sister. At 10am London time, I got the following text from my mother, "Can you track Ann's flight for me. I’m in the car on the way to the airport." What to do? To lie to mom or not to lie to mom?
I text back, "She was a bit delayed but she'll get there on time." Technically, that was not a lie... Upon arriving at the airport, my mom inquired about her sister's flight and the whole truth was revealed in all its glory. Next text, "She isn't landing until 8:55 and my flight leaves at 9! She'll never make it." How does one calm a frazzled mom from 3000 miles away? More lying.
"Don't worry. They'll wait." As the boarding time neared my mom's texts became more abundant and frenzied. I told her to put off getting on that plane as long as she could. Our one saving grace was that my aunt's gate was directly adjacent to my mother's gate -- a miracle, but the real miracle was yet to occur. At 8:57 they made my mom get on the plane. They assured her they would wait for her sister so my mom begrudgingly got on and set next to the empty seat meant for her sister. Back in London, I got a text from my aunt at 8:57. "We landed they are waiting for me!"
I typed back feverishly, "I know. The gate is next to yours. Just run for that plane and text me when you get on it." Then, silence. No mom. No aunt. I was out of my head. What was going on? "Mom, is Auntie A with you?" Silence... "Auntie A? Where are you?" Silence...
Then a text from my aunt, "I missed it. I was here and the plane was not at the gate. "
I texted back numerous expletives and swore out loud for added emphasis. Several minutes passed as my aunt and I tried to figure out what her next step should be. As I started the process of calling Continental, I simultaneously began tracking my mother's flight. Suddenly, my blackberry starting vibrating on my desk, the time was 9:17. "I'm on the plane. They came back for me. Gotta go."And sure enough, there on the screen was the flight status for Continental Flight 18 --Status: In Flight. 20 minutes late. Had to return to gate. I had to wait 8 hours to find out how these two women, both measuring less than 5 feet one inches, had the power to turn the flight back.
This is how it went down: On the plane, my mother had sobbed so sadly for her sister that the flight attendants came to comfort her. They assured her that my aunt would get on the next flight and they would be reunited in London. But my mom kept saying, "I can't do this without her. I can't get to Paddington Station."
Even the man next to my mother was moved by her sobs. "I'm sorry about your sister," he said. She cried even more. Finally the flight attendant asked my mom, "If you could get off the plane and be with your sister would you?"
"Yes," sobbed my mother.
"Let me see what I can do." The attendant said and went toward the cockpit door. She then proceeded to knock on the door -- now let me remind you that the plane is sitting in the middle of the runway, waiting for its turn to take off -- and she tells the captain the saga.
He says, "Get her off the plane if she is hysterical!"
The nice flight attendant explains, "She isn't hysterical. She just wants her sister. If we would go back to let her off, why can't we just go back and let her sister on?"
"Fine." The captain said and he turned the plane around to get my Auntie A.
And they flew together happily ever after. When they were getting off the plane in London, the captain said to them, "No you ladies stay together." They giggled and walked off the plane hand in hand.
I met the dynamic duo at Paddington Station at 11:45pm London time. We were exhausted but excited to be together and laughed untl we cried about the whole event. We are now the 3 Temporary Europeans and we know that we will be alright because between the three of us, we can make anything happen!

Watch out England and Ireland!

Double vs Bendy

Here in the big city life, I am an expert commuter; I take a tube for three stops where I walk one block to catch a bus which travels 15 minutes and takes me almost to the front door of my office building. Who would have thought this Great Meadows Gal would be adept at not only city life but foreign city life? I get a little thrill every time I think about it. Cue "If they could see me now!" La La La.

Now, where was I? Oh, yeah, commuting: after 2 months of living in London, I finally experienced a ride on "the bendy bus." These buses are super long and they bend around tight street corners and strike fear in the hearts of cyclists and pedestrians alike. Londoners dislike the bendy buses as they've been the culprits in a quite a few accidents and really don't fit (literally or figuratively) in this super old city with its super narrow streets. It's not that I've been avoiding the bendy bus as much as I've just lucked out because my route doesn't have a lot of the beasts running. My ignorance of the etiquette for riding a bendy bus was evident about two seconds after I got on the bus; I sat in the seat right next to the slinky-like connector and the undulating and shifting that ensued for my 15 minute ride made me wonder if 1) I had gotten on an amusement park ride rather than a bus and 2) if I would make it to the office without throwing up. The only thing worse than throwing up is throwing up in public in a foreign city. I am happy to report that the stiff upper lip also helps with a weak stomach. To make the ride even more interesting, it seemed that at points where the stretch of road between lights was extremely limited, half the bendy bus was at a red light and the other at a green light. What the bloody hell?

After my thrill ride on said bendy bus, I began to wonder if the double-deckers would get put to pasture in favor of its bendy cousin, which holds twice as many commuters. I feared another London icon may be going the way of the dinosaurs...(need I remind you of the guards at Buckingham State House???). Well my friends, we can all sigh with relief! My research has yielded some promising news. Due to its dangerous (and undulating?) nature, Sir Bendy may be phased out soon in London:

Calls for the removal of the bendy bus escalated this summer [2008] after a series of accidents, including one in which Lee Beckwith, 21, was killed when he was trapped by a bus door in Essex and dragged for a mile.

TfL figures suggest bendy buses are more likely to be involved in an accident. It is estimated that they cause 5.6 pedestrian injuries per million miles operated, compared with 0.97 per million for all other buses.

Bendy buses, manufactured by Mercedes-Benz, are also involved in 2.62 collisions with cyclists per million miles, compared with 0.97 for other buses, and have 153 accidents per million miles, compared with 87 per million on non-bendy routes. Critics say that because passengers don't have to board at the front, many avoid paying.

"Many Londoners, particularly cyclists, see the awkward elongated bulk of the bendy bus as unsuitable for the city's streets," Mr Johnson said. "I am making sure the buses are removed in the most cost-effective way and today's new contract marks the beginning of the end for bendy buses in London."

Bendy buses make up 5 per cent of the London bus fleet but the 350 vehicles are responsible for about 20 per cent of bus-related deaths. They were introduced by the former mayor Ken Livingstone, who decommissioned the Routemasters.

Yeah for the new mayor of London! For now, the bendy buses still plow through the streets but I will make it a point to avoid them, both as a passenger and a pedestrian, and I will only ride the double-decker or single platform bus. Hey, I do what I can to support the aspects of London that make it a great city.

Doing My Part,

The Temporary European

Summer Attire at Buckingham Palace

I remember quite distinctly learning about London, England as a child in elementary school; the classroom was decorated with pictures of bobbies complete with hats, whistles and sticks; bright red double-decker buses; black taxi cabs and of course, Buckingham Palace with guards in front that were wearing red coats and big, black, furry hats. Of course there is more to London than these things but these are the images that were placed in my young head and have lived with me ever since.

I'm delighted to say that since I've been here I have seen some bobbies, sans the sticks, ridden the double-decker buses, almost been run over by numerous black taxis, and I even saw Buckingham Palace... but the Palace was a bit of a disappointment. I know, it saddens me to write it but I have vowed to be honest with you, dear readers, and it was nothing like the pictures my elementary school teacher displayed in our classroom so many years ago.

Upon approaching the circular drive out front, I was met with a huge fountain; lots of gold and statues of ladies clad in robes. It was beautiful but not what I had come for. I turned excitedly to see the Palace. But, quite honestly, it looked more like a government building than a palace. The front had no distinguishing features and there were plain gates all around. My eyes took in the bland architecture and I scanned the building from top to bottom, and left to right but I didn't see any guys in red coats and black hats. I finally turned to my companion and said, "This can't be the Palace. It looks boring and there are no guards with the big, furry hats." I was assured that it was indeed the Palace and told that if I looked closely I could see the guards. I wasn't having any of it. "Look closely? I'm 20 feet from the boring front door and I DON'T see any guards with BIG BLACK HATS or RED coats. I'm not blind!"

My annoyed companion pointed slightly to the left and there, hidden by the shadows of the roof overhang, was one solitary guard in a blue uniform wearing some type of military beanie. A beanie? I looked quickly to the far right and saw his comrade in the same blue uniform with the same beanie.

"Unbelievable," I uttered. "I want to leave. This is a disappointment." I snapped a picture of the plain old guard (more for proof that there were NO red coats or black, furry hats) and walked away from the gates. I knew I was being childish but I felt robbed.

I know these Brits are sensitive to heat -- 88 degrees for two consecutive days is considered a heat wave and the number 1 news story -- but the day I visited Buckingham State House (my new name for it), it was only 80 and the day before hadn't even reached the 80s so there was no possibility of heatstroke, etc. Let's consider, for the sake of argument, that it had been 88 that day and for weeks before --since when does the weather displace tradition? The Queen doesn't wear shorts on a hot day. Does the President of the United States give summer speeches in a guayabera? I think not! Do cops in NYC stop wearing bulletproof vests in July? I think not! Suck it up protectors of the Queen and don your red jackets and big, black hats before you dash the hopes and dreams of even more Americans.

For those of you who really want to know why they are wearing those dull outfits (I will still keep telling people it's their Summer Attire), I've done a little research on this matter: Currently the soldiers guarding the Palace are the 23 Engineer Regimen and they don't sport the traditional garb. I have no idea why they are there and why they don't wear the fancy duds; maybe the other guys needed a rest from a long winter of wearing the big, black hats and the outfits are at the dry cleaners?

Sighing Sadly,

The Temporary European

Deep (London) Thoughts Part II

Fast approaching the two month mark and I have more oddities to share with you; yes, they may be in the form of a complaint but I can't help it!

1) Queues -- First of all, why can't they just say line? It's easier to say and spell. Secondly, they love queues here! They queue up for everything and anything. A trip to the post office is a 15 minute wait in the queue - ALWAYS. I now know how the Cold War Russians felt waiting for toilet paper.

2) Coins -- There are too many friggin' coins here. After purchasing a cup of coffee my purse weighs an extra 3 pounds by the addition of coins: 1 pence, 2 pence, 5 pence, 10 pence, 20 pence, 50 pence, 1 pound, 2 pound. It is a coin collector's heaven. I am not a coin collector.

3) Surgery -- Why call the doctor's office surgery? No one is cutting anyone up a the doctor's! Surgery sounds very serious to me, but here it's just a trip to see your GP.

4) Drinking -- Holy Get Your Drink On! Some pubs stop serving food at 8 and only serve liquid dinner. Every Friday there are crowds that spill onto the streets. And that is on nearly every corner, people! They stand there drinking, drinking, drinking with no nuts or pretzels in sight. I'd be smashed in no time and with my luck I'd fall into the road and get hit by a black cab. I don't drink at pubs...

5) Warm Beer -- I don't really like beer but I've had to drink a few pints when I'm out with my colleagues and I must report that warm beer is revolting. The only thing tolerable about any beer is its super cold nature, take that away and it's bloody unbearable. This helps me keep true to number 4...

On a happier note, something I will miss when I leave jolly, old England is something I call sandwich in a box. The English loooove sandwiches (after all, the name comes from the Earl of Sandwich) and they have these delightful triangle contraptions that hold both sides of said sandwich in a stacked formation. It is really handy as it allows easy transport which is great for eating on the go and not resorting to icky fast food like burgers and fries (chips). I'm hoping this sandwich box finds its way to the states soon!

Until we next meet,

The Temporary European