Camden Markets

When we lived in Chicago, I remember thinking that there must be an easier way to live. When it snowed we had to shovel out the car. When we wanted to go to the store, we had to consider how we'd get there, how much we bought and how much we could carry home. When we wanted to go downtown, we had to think about whether the train was going to be packed.

And then we had kids and life became more complicated with strollers and car seats and rain covers and commutes. And then we eliminated a million complications by moving to Deerfield. We had a garage. We had access to every store and chain imagineable. We had plenty of space...

Yet, when the opportunity to move to London was offered, we didn't once let the complexities that were sure to greet us change our minds. Not only that, but we made a promise to ourselves that if any outing or trip seemed too hard, we'd do it anyway. Because otherwise, how would we ever see the city and all the things around it with two kids?

We have stuck to that promise so far - but frankly we do that by planning way ahead and thinking through all of those plans to ensure we're prepared, therefore making it simpler on ourselves. For example, last Saturday we went to the Science Museum. We read about it online, knew where the kids spaces were, went early to beat the crowds, took the bus line that we were already familiar with, and even took a little picnic so we wouldn't be hungry. Oh, we were so proud.

But the true test of our promise came last Sunday when our friends called to invite us on a day trip to Camden. It was already 10:30 when we determined that would be a good way to spend the day. Both kids were already down for a nap and frankly, other than the tour books we had on hand calling Camden eclectic, we knew little else. But we jumped at the chance.

The first challenge came in getting there. We met up with our friends and their four kids and immediately entered a tube station with no lift. Honestly, not many tube stations have a lift, but it is especially daunting when you have a double stroller filled with two 25 pound kids. But, between M and I, we got the big Phil and Ted's stroller down to the train level. And we crammed onto the train with a million other people. And then came the transfer down to another train line - one of the many that is set down in the bowels of the earth and again has no lift. So we tested our skills on an escalator. And then crammed onto yet another crowded train. And then had to brave the stairs and escalators going up. I felt like we were on an obstacle course because these stations are not all one level, so we'd think we were done, after riding down an escalator, only to turn a corner and have 10 stairs up to climb.

Exhausted, we spilled out into Camden Markets, along with the million people from the trains, into a crowd of a million more. There were markets and shops crammed all around us selling everything from tourists goods, to Wellies, to lingerie, to grunge outfits, to tattoos. And of course, there we are again, taking up the room of 10 people with our big old stroller and now a toddler who decided she wanted to walk and dance ot the music.

There are times that people and crowds make me batty. But this was not one of those times. In fact, I loved it. The area was great, the people were fantastic to see, the vendors were unique and the smells of a million types of food were so appealing. We stopped and got a fresh donut that they frosted to Chloe's liking and we ate it on the side of the road watching the crowds. Then we went to Stables Market, which is a huge old stable filled now with markets and food vendors and huge metal and wood tables and benches. We found ourselves a corner out of the way and ate Indian food - samosas and potatoes/spinach and rice. The kids bought lollipops and then we headed out of the crowds on to Regent's Park.

And that made it feel like a day of opposites. We started the day in crowds with loud music and traffic. And we ended in Regent's Park, which was open and green and massive and had people playing sports and children running around. We played for a long time, after spending some time changing two children who had exploded and required an outfit change (did I mention that nothing is easy these days?) and then, when we were all too exhausted to continue, got milkshakes and sat contemplating the long journey home.

And it was long. And it was hard. And there were a gazillion stairs. But the kids, all six of them, were fantastic, and happy and tickled each other and danced around. And at the end of the day, as I was falling asleep at 8:30 p.m. for the night, I was so very proud of us.

Trade Offs

Last night I got on a plane to Switzerland after being home only one full day following a trip to the states. All I could think as the car pulled away, and I caught the kiss my daughter had blown me from the front window, was "man, this is hard." And I remained on edge, unhappy and stressed enough to chew my nails into an unattractive mess until midnight when my cab pulled up to the hotel in Switzerland. At the front desk was a man named Gunter who welcomed me so nicely, showed me my room and was clearly so proud of this hotel that I had no choice but to be pleased to be here.

And then I woke up and had breakfast here.

I work in a job that asks me to put in long hours and to travel a lot. I sometimes do such ridiculous things that I can't help but think - this is my job? And then the same job puts me in a picture-perfect moment that I wouldn't have had access to in my life, and I can't help but think - this is my job? I find myself sometimes equally elated and embarrassed about moments that I am afforded. This is one of them. Would I give up this view, this experience and this luxurious treatment to be home with my family? Yes, a million times over. But if I have to be away and working, I am certainly not complaining that it is here.

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.