Waterloo Bridge

Yesterday I had a meeting across the River Thames from my office and had to take a cab because I was running late. When I exited the building following the meeting and turned left onto Waterloo Bridge, I was smacked in the face with the fact that I live in London.

I certainly know that I live in London, but sometimes the daily grind makes me forget. I get up, get dressed, play with the family, get on the train, go to work, get on the train, go home, eat dinner, put the kids to bed and check email before retiring. We can watch American shows and eat American food. And while we try to do things beyond what we'd normally do in the U.S., and weekends are spent exploring the city right now, it is easy in moments to forget we're in London.

That is, it is easy to forget, until I turn a corner and literally to the right of me is the London Eye and to the left of me is Big Ben. London doesn't get more in your face than that.

Tiddy Oggy

I thought it might be worth noting what a Cornish Pasty is since I referred to it in the last post...a pasty (apparently also known in the cornish dialect as tiddy oggy) is a semicircular dough thing filled with all different options, including steak, vegetables or onions/cheese (my favorite). I think it is like a chicken pot pie in a Hot Pocket (minus the chicken for me). Mike says the "traditional" with steak was like having pot roast in a Hot Pocket. We stumbled upon these one morning when we were heading downtown to watch the London Marathon in St. James' Park. I was starving, as usual, and we just popped into a little store front that sold them. CC and I devoured ours. I seek them out now, but I have to assume, just like anything, there are some places that do them really well, and some that don't. So far, I've only had the good.

Clothes Shopping

Thus far, I am unimpressed with my clothes shopping experience in London.

I am a discount shopper at heart. In the states, I love Marshall's and TJ Maxx. I dig through the racks to find what should be an expensive item (more like itemS to be honest) for some ridiculously low price and I go home proud and happy. But now I'm in London and instead of coming home with ridiculous amounts of clothes, I come home sometimes with just one little thing and a huge amount of wasted time.

Being a working mom, I take very little time away from my family that I could be spending with them. And when I do, I want it to be efficient. So, since we've moved, I have planned carefully ensuring I know how to get to the areas with the most shopping options and when the napping begins in my house, I dart out the door, speed walk to the bus or tube and charge into whatever store I've determined will be my best option. This weekend it was TK Maxx (not a mispelling, but in fact, the TJ Maxx of London) that I determined would be my best bet.

I went to Kensington High Street location, which I know is a big one and started digging. And lo and behold, there was an entire suit selection - for the most outrageous prices I've ever seen in a "discount" store. For example, for one Calvin Klein suit coat, it was 150 pounds. Assume a conversion of about $1.75. That is a $262.50 jacket. Uh. Nope. Not buying that. And it continued like that throughout the store, so I ended that visit quickly.

Next I went into Marks and Spencer. And there were plenty of clothes, and some at a reasonable price, but those items were the ones that were clearly made of lesser fabrics or had some rather snazzy buttons that I wasn't interested in. I like bargains but I don't like to look like I shop for bargains.

So I went into Jigsaw and loved everything I saw. Until I saw that a camisole was 99 pounds. And the shirt next to it was 129 pounds. And I left.

I did find a store called Kew that I have since been told is the younger sister of Jigsaw and is less expensive. I probably would have bought more there, but frankly, by that time, all my shopping enthusiasm had worn off and the time I had allocated for shopping had run out.

So, I bought myself a cornish pasty (and one to take home to Mike) and a 7 pack of the most American looking cookies I could buy (chocolate chip, peanut butter, you know, the basics) and I went home.

I am sure there is good shopping in London. I am sure there is great shopping in London. I'd just like to find good shopping that I can afford...now. Is that too much to ask?

Wills and Kate

London did us a solid by throwing a royal wedding pretty quickly after we arrived. And then our little street all came together as one and threw a street party that proved to be the perfect introduction to the diversity that surrounds us - Brits to the left, a French family beside them, a New Zealand family down the block, an American family a few doors down, and it continues from there.

We thought it extremely quaint that upon arrival there was a note under our door announcing the intention of coordinating a street fair. The best part of the note was that the options for reply were as follows:

Yes, I think the street fair is a great idea and I'd like to participate and help coordinate.
Yes, I think the street fair I support the street fair but can't attend.
I won't be able to attend and have a few comments on the matter.

What I loved was that there wasn't an option not to support the event specifically. As though it wasn't really a request for permission, but more an RSVP of sorts.

Being a big-time joiner, I immediately emailed the coordinator with my intention to participate and was put on the email list of people helping with things that needed done. One of the items to volunteer for was to make "royal wedding cupcakes". Hmmm. The words I knew, but could that be something very specific that I just wouldn't know how to make? I wasn't sure, so I let the coordinator assign me something instead. And she asked that I bring "cheese, biscuits for cheese and grapes". Seems easy enough, right? Wrong. I overthought it big time. Do "biscuits for cheese" mean something besides just some random crackers? I know what cheese I'd bring in America, but in England? No clue. And grapes? Well, I actually knew what to do there.

In the end, I found a box of assorted crackers that actually said Biscuits for Cheese on the side and intended to buy a few of those. But, underestimating the number of street parties that must have been planned the number of people assigned this item, the stores were out. Mike saved the day by grabbing just a bunch of cracker packets, I just guessed on the cheese based on what the store had most of (cheddars, red liecester and double gloucester) and we thought we had it made. Until I realized I had no serving plates at all. I blamed the shipment having not arrived yet (but it has since arrived and it turns out I just didn't pack any serving dishes) and just used a few dinner plates.

By the time the party started, I was exhausted from thinking. And here's what ended up happening. We had a great time, met some fun people, ate a ton of amazing food, dressed CC up like a princess and then took off the dress and let her get so dirty she required scrubbing, and ultimately, we forgot we were in another country. Because it turns out, a street party is a street party in any country.

What Language Do I Need to Learn?

I don't think many people have a husband like mine. Imagine being him in this situation - you're sitting at home after a long day of work with your 17-month-old daughter when your six-month pregnant wife calls and says, "just hypothetically, would you be willing to move to Europe for my job?"

Some people would ask a million questions about how that would work exactly. But mine just asked one question. "What language do you need me to learn?" And, while the answer was none because the job was in London, I don't think it could have gotten much more supportive than that. That was about 9 months ago - when the conversation began.

The Us in Team Us

We are four Americans living in London on a two-year ex-pat assignment. I do communications for a pharma company and my husband took on a much tougher assignment - raising our two children while we're here. I am dealing with grown ups expressing their demands on email and i nmeetings all days - in mostly very grown up ways. He, on the other hand, is dealing with a rather intelligent, but sometimes irrational, 2-year-old girl and a chuckly little man who is about 7 months old. And we're doing it all while trying to get the cultural experience of a lifetime.