Malta? Where’s that?

I am presently squeezed into a window seat a few miles above France on my way back to London from the tiny micro-nation of Malta.  For those who do not know (and I am unashamed to admit that I did not just a few weeks ago), Malta is a former UK island colony in the middle of the Mediterranean that obtained independence in 1964.  Prior to its membership in the empire it served a brief period under French rule (during which the British were called for “help”) and a long period of independence.  Its principal cities were built by the knights who acquired Malta in the 1500s and defended it during the “great siege,” which despite my having never heard of it, I gather is an event of importance unmatched in history.  Without it, Malta would have been Turkish, and then who knows what would have happened?  I spent just under 48 hours in the nation, which seems either just right or a tad too long. 

I arrived on Friday afternoon after a leisurely morning journey to the airport (my other option was a torturous early-morning journey to a much more remote airport, which did not seem worth it), and decided to take the scenic route into town.  I hopped on the bus (the only only service, plied by authentic 1950s equipment) to the capital city of Valletta (if a nation of 380 sq km can be said to have a capital city).  My ride (cost €0.47) took me through narrow streets and hilly neighborhoods, and I felt that it allowed me to really see where the locals live.  I arrived in Valletta and after a bit of aimless wandering that found me in a hilltop park overlooking a sailboat-filled bay whipped out my mobile phone and used the GPS to scout my way down some very steep, stepped streets and underpasses to the bottom of the hill and the ferry to Sliema, where my hotel was situated.  A short wait and chat on the phone with some people in the States and the ferry arrived.  After a quick journey (€0.97) I found myself on the shore of a much flatter “town” full of hotels and tourist destinations, and I set off for the approximately 10 minute walk to the hotel.  I managed to get my room key (I was meeting my friend) and found myself in a massive, recently-constructed two-bedroom apartment with floor-to-ceiling slide-away windows giving way to a balcony overlooking the bay. Very nice.

While I didn’t manage to see all of the sites, I feel like my day trip the next morning to the country’s second-largest island, Gozo, consumed rather more time than it needed. 

While I still maintain a proud record of having never booked an organized sight-seeing tour (I do not count my overnight boat trip on Halong bay in Vietnam, since it was less sightseeing and more yachting), my travel companion did sign us up for one.  Fortunately it was free of any guides, so we were merely given a brief introduction to every stop by our driver, and were then free to wander around.  Unfortunately, he made the grave error of signing up for the included meal, which doubled the price of the journey but halved its value.  Of course you do not know whether you will have the chance to eat somewhere else, but as it turned out our wretched included sustenance (did you expect otherwise) was in a small seaside village that included much better food for less money.  No worries though, you live and learn!  In this case we learned: ask if there will be other restaurants near where we will be getting lunch.

So, what did we see?  The highlights of the trip included such wonders as:

• A church that Pop John Paul II visited.  Apparently built in the 30s, it was a church.  It had an apse and a nave and some stained glass windows, along with some lovely photos of the pope looking popely.
• A folklore museum.  I didn’t go in, because I don’t care much about folklore.  Instead, I walked around the small, deserted hilltop village we were in and bought some stamps, a coke, and some mint chocolate.  The stamps were the largest stamps I have ever seen.  The coke came in a tall can, and the mint chocolate was very tasty.  Sadly the chocolate bore the Aero brand popular here in Europe, which signifies that half of the chocolate has been replaced by – you guessed it – air.  Allegedly this gives it a cool “bubbly” taste, but I suspect that the marketers wake up every morning, log into their bank accounts, and have a hearty laugh about how they were able to convince people to buy half the chocolate for the same price.
• Capers.  Apparently they are famous capers.  Our driver pointed at them out of the window.
• Quarries.  Also spotted through the windows of the van.
• Bamboo.  Not only spotted through the window, but also present near where we struggled through lunch.
• Fungus rock.  A small rocky island (about 200 feet across) that is the only place where a particular fungus grows.  It was unclear whether this fungus grows elsewhere in the world.  It was used by the knights to create medicine, but we were not informed of any modern usage.
• Some beautiful cliffs and an archway over the ocean.  In fairness to fungus rock, these were all in the same place, and the complete effect was really quite beautiful.
• The world’s oldest freestanding human-made structure.  It looked like a disintegrated pile of rocks arranged into walls, but apparently was used as a temple.  Probably.  It was built around 3500 BC.  Probably. It was old, and unremarkable.
• The city of Victoria.  Other than the ocean-side at fungus rock, this was the only thing I found worth visiting.  The city was a beautiful, hilly town overlooking the entire island.  It was topped by a citadel (which was really a cathedral) and a great viewing wall, and included a quaint square filled with coffee shops, as well as another church. 

Upon returning to the island of Malta on a mixed pedestrian and vehicular ferry and riding back to our hotel, we went to a well-known local restaurant for some local Maltese food.  Apparently Maltese food is distinguished by a local fish and rabbit, and as I had consumed rabbit on the previous day (in a delicious rabbit ravioli appetizer) I opted for the local fish as the main course in my set menu, which was great. 

Today, Sunday, we hopped on an ancient local bus to travel around the bay to Valletta, where we wandered around the town and had a nice cup of coffee before nipping back to the hotel and on to the airport.

All in all a quaint visit, and while I might take the opportunity for a visit if it is offered to you, I wouldn’t make a destination of it or travel very far to get there, especially if you haven’t yet seen the (sorry Malta) much more interesting destinations nearby in Europe.  The one thing I would probably have done differently is that I would have gone to see the city of M’dina (after Medina, meaning “city” in Arabic) that predated the crusaders of the 1500s.  Of course, I’m sure that there are many similar cities in the world, and I’m sure that I will see something similar in the future, if I have not already.

Fooooootbaaaalll!

Now, with a title like “Fooooootbaaaalll!” you probably think I’m going to talk about soccer.  But nope, you’re wrong, I’m going to talk about good old American Gridiron!  Last Sunday, you see, the New England Patriots played a regular season game against the Tampa Bay Buccaneers at Wembley Stadium, one of the most expensive stadia ever built and the largest stadium in the world with every seat covered.  Needless to say, I attended.  At first I was hesitant since I was not able to convince anybody else to attend with me, and because tickets were awfully expensive, but in the end I decided that I didn’t want to miss out on any opportunities while I am living here.

I arrived at the Wembley Park tube station to find a rather spectacular walkway jammed with people on the way to the stadium, which loomed in the distance.  I purchased a ticket from a scalper on the way (after shuddering a bit at the price, which was expensive before the 20% markup – but remembering that it’s not every day one gets to see the Patriots play in England) and made my way to the stadium.  My seats were right behind the goal post and close to the field (so really not that great for watching the action) but I had a great view of the entire stadium. 

This, it turns out, was my first professional football game, and despite the foreign setting, I was not disappointed.  Tampa Bay was the “home” team, and they had everything you expect from an NFL extravaganza.  There were cheerleaders, a pre-game show, fireworks when Tampa Bay ran onto the field, and flags for all of us to wave to cheer them on.  In the end, I did not come away disappointed.

The only really “English” experiences were the national anthem and the waves.  As for the anthem, nobody sang along to Tony Braxton’s rendition of The Star Spangled Banner, which felt like a popular dance mix compared to God Save the Queen, which was sung very slowly and operatically, and had 90,000 people struggling for breath while still finishing each word before the singer.  Not really very good.  The waves, as in movements of standing people around the stadium, were fantastic because they were so much more energetic than the ones I have witnessed in the states.  As the wave would approach your quarter of the stadium you would start murmuring, growing into a very loud “oooooo” sound before you stood up and "oooo”ed at your loudest!  It was great fun because you could not only see the wave but also hear it make its way around the stadium.

As for the football game, I’m disappointed to say that I have seen better games played by Ivy League universities (who are awful at football).  The problem was that Tampa Bay didn’t really fight back.  The first interception was in the second play of the game, and resulted in a patriots touchdown!  No complaints about the victors, but it would have been nice to have an exciting game, not one that finished by running out the clock with the score an insurmountable 35-7.

A great experience nevertheless, and it furthered my resolve to show up to “novice” practice for a local American football team this Sunday. They claim that these practices are for people who have never played before, so I figure that if people who have never played the sport can join, than I, who have at least played some pick-up games, should be welcome to tag along.  I doubt they will ever let me play (they won the UK championships last year), but hopefully it will be a good way to get some exercise, make friends, and learn how to play football better!

Why can’t I get anything?

“A what?” the customer service agent asks.

“A pie tin,” I respond.  I find myself making hand gestures normally reserved for countries where I do not speak the local language natively. 

A few seconds pass before I am directed to an aisle that contains flat metal dishes, each about the size of a tea saucer.  Alas, they will not do for a pie.

Of all the things that I have found difficult to acquire here, pie tins have surprised me the most.  Surely people bake pies in this country! In fact, I know they do, and yet pie tins were not forthcoming.  Fortunately for our Canadian Thanksgiving celebration happening later that day (a couple of Sundays ago), I was able to find, after checking every home shop and department store at the mall, a couple of cake dishes that were approximately the same size and shape as a pie tin, but with vertical (as opposed to slanted) edges. 

Canadian Thanksgiving was, in all, a great success. We had about 20 people, and we’re looking to follow it up with a great American edition on the 22nd of November.  Now, if only I can find some cranberries!

Universal Healthcare Bills

You’ll have to forgive me for straying from the topic of life in London, but the bills making their way through congress have been really bothering me – not because they are too liberal or too conservative, too expensive or too cheap, but because they don’t achieve their stated objectives.  If you’re not interested in hearing my thoughts on the matter, you should probably just skip this note.  If you are interested, note that I am merely talking about achieving the apparent objectives laid out by members of congress and the administration, that is to say what I would do if I shared their objectives, a discussion for another time that is irrelevant to my complaints.

So, let’s take these as the stated objectives, which as near as I can tell are shared by the leaders of Congress and the President:

1) Universal coverage.  That is to say that every person in the United States should have coverage that meets certain requirements, at the very least, and everyone should be able to afford it.  We’ll call this the base level, and assume that there are no trade-offs allowed (e.g. the government does not want to allow people to have a higher deductible if it means more doctor visits per year).

2) A government-chartered insurer to “compete” with the private insurance companies.  Note again that I am not saying this is a good idea or a bad idea, just that it is a goal.  As an aside, I am not sure whether this can be done honestly, but whenever people say private insurers cannot compete, I keep thinking about the Postal Savings System, which was shut down after private companies bested it in almost every way. I recommend reading up on if you have not heard about it (most people have not).  Health insurance might be different than savings plans though, and it depends on the government-run one being very carefully set up not to have an unfair advantage.

So that’s it for our requirements.  Here’s what I would do:

• Charter the insurer, and set it up in a way so that it’s run at arms-length.  Set it up as for-profit, not-for-profit, whatever.  Perhaps give it a similar capital structure to a private non-profit insurer, and sell the debt at the same rates to the public, have the government buy the rest, and have the government provide the equity for free.  Perhaps the states will own the equity.  It’s material, but there are undoubtedly different ideas out there.
• Set up a national marketplace where every plan needs to have a certain minimum level, and each insurer needs to provide a plan of exactly that level.  Which is to say that there will be a homogenous product competing only on price, in addition to products that compete on features.  Require the plans to be open to everyone (at least for initial sign-up and switching between equal or lower coverage levels) and to have the basic-level plan priced the same everywhere in the country.  This is to say that the basic plan from insurer X will always cost $Y, though insurer A may only charge $B.  Any plan above the basic plan can cost different amounts in different places, but no less than the basic plan. Do not allow the states to require anything additional of the basic plans over the federal requirements.  E.g. New York cannot require that all plans cover plastic surgery for men over 40, etc.  For any plans with more than the basic coverage, the states can regulate them further, including the government-chartered plan.

So far, we’re more or less where most of the bills put us, with the exception of the level regulatory playing field I’ve created for the basic health plans.  Now, here’s where I think it becomes different:

• Provide everyone in the country with a credit of $G at the treasury for their healthcare costs.  $G is the cost of the basic level government run plan.  This is so that everyone can afford insurance, and gets to take their basic dollars where they want them.  Not only that but it’s relatively simple, compared to tax credits, etc.  You just have a database with everyone in it.  Now, allow people to pick their plan.  If they pick their employers plan, their employer can claim that credit, but they do not have to pick their employer’s plan.  If they pick an individual plan, their insurer can claim that credit.  If they pick the chartered plan that organization gets it.  If they pick an individual plan (now, remember, they all have a basic level) that costs less than $G, they will get a check from the for the difference.  Perhaps make it tax-free to encourage low-cost spending.  If they do not pick an insurer assign one to them randomly, or assign them the government one (depending on your political motives).
• Pay for it.  I don’t really care how.  All we’re doing here is shuffling money around anyway, and creating much larger risk pools.  At the very least, remove the tax deduction for employer-provided benefits.  Everyone will get the same amount tax-free, and they have an incentive to pick really cheap plans (that all provide the basic level) because they will get money back.  Right now, the people with the worst jobs, who are the poorest, have to pay the most for health insurance because they pay with after-tax money.  This is hugely inequitable.  So that will undoubtedly create savings because people might choose to consume less healthcare and select higher paying jobs rather than ones with better healthcare (which they can always add on to in the individual market).  Perhaps add a national sales tax.  Perhaps increase income taxes uniformly by income (1% across the board).  Perhaps increase income taxes non-uniformly by income (10% on the “rich”, 20% extra on the poor).  Perhaps increase taxes uniformly per capita ($G per person).  In any case, it should be completely paid for, but the beauty is that it’s easy.

The reason I state these two objectives is because I think it’s the only way that we will create uniform risk pools with truly universal coverage.  Mandates are complicated and do not address the issue of people who cannot pay, but if you give everyone the basic level of healthcare (through either a private company or the government) then a broadened risk pool is automatic.  Not only that, but it’s less legally suspect.  Requiring people to do something through an income tax surcharge would open the door to requiring people to do anything simply by adding a large tax penalty to an opposing action.  However, the federal government is more than welcome to provide any entitlement it likes – you can’t refuse something that you get automatically, and it’s not forcing you to do anything (except your taxes, but you already have to pay them).

Any thoughts?  I’d love to hear what people think.  The problem I have with the current bills is that they are over-complicated, still leave inequities (not in terms of coverage, but in terms of special treatment – people with generous company coverage are much better off  in terms of their tax-adjusted consumption levels than people with an income increased by the cost of that same coverage), and don’t achieve their stated goal of covering everyone.

I know the cost of this plan would be high, but the higher taxes would be rebated directly to individuals, meaning that they would still be in the hands of the public to be spent by the public, essentially just requiring them to consume a particular good.  I could guess that such a tax would not have the same impact on economic growth as others would. E.g. imagine a tax that you got back as a visa gift card that you can also get cash from at ATMs.  Would this impact economic growth?  Probably not because you can use it as cash or in lieu of your credit card.

A moving update

In the sense of driving.  After practicing my left-side stick-shift driving uneventfully on a couple of trips to Ikea, I found out that apparently the English practical driving test has a few rather stringent requirements.  The situation, as explained to me by my friend, is that I “know how to drive, but now [I] have to learn to take the test.” The problem is that they are very particular about a few things that I do not do naturally:

1. You are required to downshift while braking in every circumstance.  I understand that this is safer than just braking because you can accelerate away, but worse for the clutch.
2. You must use the handbrake for starting almost every time.  While this is probably safer and better for the car when you are on a hill, I do not find it natural and normally only do it on steep inclines.
3. They require you to check the mirrors constantly and in a particular order, especially while braking.  Normally when I’m braking I look at the relevant mirrors (rear-view, then the right and/or left ones depending on where I am on a road), but they want you to (apparently) go in a set order, even if you are driving on a narrow, one-lane, one-way road.

I have been advised that I should really take a few lessons before my test, which is not a bad idea, especially considering the other problem: despite being able to drive without restriction, for the test I need to have a car with special insurance and plates.  This makes no sense because it means that I am allowed to terrorize the populace while driving on my own, but that when I am supervised by a government employee, they need to be warned.  However, despite this warning the licensing authorities are unyielding, and I thus need to hire an instructor to take me to my test on the day.  As a result of all of these extra costs and hassles (£31 theory test, £75 practical test, £20/hr driving lessons for practice and the test) I decided that I’ll hold off until I know how long I’m going to be here.  The important thing is that I have a UK ID now, so I can use it of proof of address and identity.  Meanwhile, I can make sure that I do all of the tourist attractions that require driving within my first 12 months.  If I decide to take my test I will just need to take a few lessons and give myself a three month buffer (though I don’t see why I should need to drive) to have everything scheduled. The irony, of course, is that I will be legally able to drive in most countries other than the one of my residence.  Very bizarre.

On a happier note, my trips to Ikea mean that my room is now quite tidy, though still undecorated.  On my first trip I got some photo frames and a bed-side table, but discovered that they were not only a really bad color for the room, but that I didn’t need the frames anyway, since my housemates purchased many in Asia so that we could hang photos in matching frames all over the house.  After returning the frames and exchange the table, everything looks great!  Now I just need to find those frames, and get some photos printed. I have to say that I was awfully tempted by the New York City photos at Ikea, so undoubtedly I will have to make some city prints in addition to those of the family variety.

These are a few American things

Last weekend I went to see Inherit the Wind, which I had always thought was a quintessential part of every American education.  After all, I saw it myself in 7th or 8th grade, and I lived in (very recently) China.  Alas, neither of the Americans that I told about going had seen the film, and none of the people I was going with (one Canadian, one English) had either, so I think I was the only one who knew the whole story.  Kevin Spacey played the lawyer for the defendant brilliantly.  Yes, Kevin Spacey.  He’s the artistic director at the Old Vic Theatre, where he normally stays behind the scenes while bringing classic 20th century theater, often American, back to the stage.  The rest of the characters were all fantastic, and I only had reason to suspect that any of them were faking American accents on a few occasions.  My favorite character was the reporter from Baltimore, who had the characteristic film and theater accent for reporters in the early 20th century, which I have never heard spoken naturally.  I wonder if television producers made it up, or if it was in fact just the way people altered their voices to speak on the radio (as anyone who has been involved with radio knows many speakers still do).  Overall a great production, and I actually felt the desire to give a standing ovation, though I am often the one person in a crowded orchestra section who is still sitting, because I believe that our highest form of performance praise should be reserved for the highest quality of performance.  Interestingly, in this case, I was the only person standing until the second curtain call for the two leads, at which point about 1/3 of the audience stood.  Very strange.  I figure that either people are more inspired by musicals (my normal fare) or that there is something about the production that touches the American psyche, in the same way that images of Mao do not affect westerns as they do the Chinese.  That or it just made me feel happy to hear so many American accents :). 

That wasn’t the only American adventure this week.  I’ve also done a bit of grocery hunting for my housemate’s Canadian Thanksgiving party (we’re having both – a bit of competition!) and discovered that, horribly, canned pumpkin is not in stock anywhere (“coming soon,” they said, if they were a specialty store, “what?” they said otherwise), and worse, that many Canadians have never have had pumpkin pie.  To have lived and not had pumpkin pie… is it to have lived at all?  In an equally disturbing trend, it seems that chocolate chips are not quite so ubiquitous as they are in America.  Of all the things I thought would be hard to find, chocolate chips were not on the list.  It turns out that if a grocery store (fortunately not specialty store) has them, they come in a container about the size of a spice jar, with enough chocolate chips for 2 cookies.  I guess people don’t make cookies very much!  I may try to make some of my favorite recipe, if I can find the ingredients, but given my difficulty making pancakes (I had to try three times with English ingredients before getting them about right) it could be a disaster.

So you can’t make an exception?

I did not know the word “busker” before I moved to England (and indeed it does not appear in my spell-check dictionary) but apparently it’s a street performer.  In any case, I was in the underground station on the way home today and there was a man in a wheelchair playing a violin.  Wanting to give him something but having no change (only a £5 note) I went to the ticket counter and asked for some change.  “We don’t give change,” the man said, pushing back the note. “I want to give the busker some money,” I said, sliding it back again. “What?” Here’s the note again. Back and forth it goes.  “The performer, I want to give him some money.”  “Sorry.” "Why do you have a performer if I can’t give him change?” Nothing but a shrug.  I take my note and go, extremely disappointed.

On the subject of subway performers, I find it very strange that they do not vary them very much here.  At the station where I interchange on the way to work, the same Caribbean guitarist is playing every day.  Surely they would all benefit from a rotation?  I’m not likely to give money to the exact same performer playing the exact same songs every day!  Definitely not a zero-sum game.  On the way home, the station near my office does switch it up, which is nice.  On some days there is not a performer but there is a handicapped cleaning employee who is whistling very loudly.  While at first I wasn’t sure what to make of it, I eventually decided that it made me quite happy.  If this gentleman is unable to support himself and needs government money anyway, why not allow him to have a job?  He certainly seems happy and can feel like he is a productive member of society.  Meanwhile, he is probably quite helpful to the staff in the underground, and brings a bit of happiness to my life.  Seems like a win-win situation to me, as long as other people who do not receive government aid are not shut out of those jobs (e.g. these jobs are created as additional hiring out-of-budget).

You can’t be serious… driving edition

So, my driving license arrived this week and I finally have a permanent form of identification with my address on it, which is great for signing up for things like libraries (each borough has its own here), bank accounts, and just about any other form of subscription or membership.  Unfortunately, it’s a bit less useful on the driving side of things.
The rules about driving in the UK state that I can drive on my New York license for a year without having to get a UK license.  Within that year you can either exchange your existing license for a UK license, or get a provisional license which has restrictions, and then pass the written and road tests.  For those first twelve months the restrictions on your provisional license would not apply because your foreign license is still considered valid here.  So far, all well and good: you have a choice between sacrificing your foreign license or basically starting from scratch.  Clearly the better option is the former (since I could always just request a new US license by mail), but there is one snag: the UK licensing authority does not exchange US licenses.  However, they do recognize Hong Kong licenses, but I didn’t want to give mine up.  What to do?
In the end, I decided to get a provisional license, but upon receiving it I discovered that not only did I have to pay the one-time £50 licensing fee, but I also had to pay fees to take both tests.  Finding this to be really not worth the hassle, and thinking “when will I ever need it?” I decided to exchange my Hong Kong license.  Alas, after retrieving the form from the post office (I could not get it online) I discovered that in the exchange section after asking where your license is from, it asks where you took your test, if not in that country.  Grr, they got me!  I called them up, and sure enough the loophole didn’t work.  They explained that they didn’t have an agreement with the US authorities, and despite my argument that in fact I still had a Hong Kong license, they wouldn’t budge.  Mind you, I think that their argument is more about quid pro quo (none of the states I looked at will exchange anything but another US or Canadian license) than about actual legal requirements, since Hong Kong accepted my US license unilaterally.
So now I have a UK driving theory test scheduled for the 2nd of November.  I took an online practice one and failed (I wasn’t sure about some signs, road markings, and about whether train crossings here flash red or solid amber as a first warning – I guessed the latter because the former is the US way), though most of the questions were quite easy.  For example (and without much hyperbole): some elderly people are crossing the street when the light turns green, do you:

1. drive toward them and honk loudly
2. yell at them
3. run over them
4. wait patiently while they cross, understanding that elderly people take longer to do things

Presumably once I check out the road signs and markings I should be okay, though I am a little more concerned about the practical test – I need to get used to driving a manual transmission with my left hand.  Fortunately, I have £25 of zipcar credit that expires this month, so I’ll have to take a car to Ikea to practice (and get some artwork/photo frames for my room).
I’ve just arrived in Nottingham (of Robin Hood fame) for a recruiting event.  Besides wanting to meet people and enjoying it, I decided that I might as well get to see new cities and towns in England for free so I signed up to be a recruiter here (I helped out in New York too).  Should be fun!

Yum yum yum.

A good weekend this one!  Yesterday I joined my house-mate's rowing course mid-way (I had taken one in New York so was not behind) where I met an American of about my age who has moved back to London and is also a Third Culture Kid, which is nice (since I don't know many other non-Hong Kong TCKs).   After, I went to meet up with Katie, who was in town to see the opening night of Carmen at the Royal Opera House, and her friend Ale (Ali?  sorry!) who has just moved here (I had met her at Oxford).  We went to see the New York street fair in Soho, which had lame microwave personal pizzas and grocery store bagels (ick) but an awesome recreation of Central Perk from friends.  Sadly, it had an evilly long line.   After some delicious cookies at Covent Garden, we grabbed dinner with their opera companions at a little shop called Bite which had shockingly delicious ribs (both tangy and a little spicy!) as well as Coke floats, so I'm almost convinced it's American-owned (ribs, burgers, and coke floats?  c'mon...) 

After I went to see Insane in the Brain, a street dance version of One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, which I actually found somewhat annoying, though everyone else thought it was amazing (which the dancing was).  The problem is that they didn't treat the topic seriously at all.  It's one thing to try to make it seem like perhaps we outwardly judge people with disabilities (e.g. we pity them when they should be treated like people) but it's completely different to have one of the characters constantly dropping her pants and saying (or gesturing) that she really needs to the bathroom.  I found that portrayal horribly offensive (I never find that stuff funny) but I think that with a few modifications it could have been a good re-thinking.  At one point, for example, she did a complete 80s dance, with leotard, leg warmers and everything, which was hysterical.  Again, if the idea was to show that perhaps we prejudge too much, fine, but why did you need that degrading humor at the beginning?  *sigh*.  Oh well, perhaps I'm too empathic about it.

Today, after pancakes and some laundry I went to see the Tate Modern, where I was shocked to run into an acquaintance from Cornell whom I had thought lived in New York, but in fact is now in London while on a consulting project in Europe.  Great!  He was with another American who had just moved here and was also keen on doing things and making friends, so it looks like I may be acquiring some American friends, though it's kind of strange that I haven't been meeting many English people (although my housemates are taking care of that).

After I got home, I got to sit down to a fantastic house dinner made by my housemate Amit.  We had a cheese plate, sauteed mushrooms, sauteed cheese (I don't remember what type) and bread for an appetizer, followed by fantastic home cooked mussels.  They were (no offense Zach and Jen) the best mussels I have ever had.  I definitely need to get the recipe (for that and the mushrooms).  Amazing!  My morning contribution of pancakes seems rather dull now.

Markets and Festivals

It's been a while since I've posted, which has become a perfect example of compounding procrastination as every time I put off writing a post because I had too much to say, I gained even more to say, which caused me to delay even more.  Fortunately, this week looks to be rather lackluster in terms of after-work activity, so I can finally go back to the front of my list - the weekend of September 12th.

On a beautiful Saturday morning, at the advice of my housemate-cum-landlord, I set out to find "Camden Lock," which I knew nothing about other than that it was a destination, and a lock.  I was told that "it's popular when the weather's nice," so I set out with a general intent to arrive there at some point.  My wanderings initially took me to Portobello Road market, just a 10 minute walk from my house.  Portobello Road is a major antiques market held on Saturdays in Notting Hill, and my journey from end to end lasted a surprisingly long time, along beautiful curving streets lined with pretty white townhouses and hippies selling knick-knacks (or "bric-a-brac" as they call it here).  And not just hippies.  Everyone was selling all variety of market goods, which can sufficiently be described as being identical in nature to every other broad-variety market in the world.

At the end of the market the quality of the neighborhood had deteriorated visibly, and I decided that it would be more interesting to hop on the Underground (which at this point was above ground) and go to Camden Lock.  Before I emerged from the subway station I was half-hoping that Camden Lock would in fact turn out to be "Camden Loch," though my much more reasonable expectation of a canal lock was all but confirmed when I found myself in a mass of humanity of all shapes, sizes, and colors... of tattoo.  It appeared that Camden Town (the area around the station) was in fact a rather edgy (or so they wanted to believe) market, bar, and entertainment area.  The first market, almost immediately adjacent to the station fit this mold, but as I walked toward the lock, things gradually became more international (the first hint was a Chinese-run ice cream shop next to a tattoo parlor) until suddenly, at the lock, it became quite different.  The lock, to the left of the road, was lined on one side by outdoor restaurants, bars, and a Starbucks.  Just past these was the high arch of a bridge to the other side, under which a multitude of revelers gathered for their afternoon drinks and picnics.  Speaking of afternoon drinks, I am not so sure I have ever seen so many people drinking on a regular Saturday afternoon - I think that in New York people went out in the evenings, and even when the weather was spectacular taking wine to central park during the day or going for afternoon drinks outside was not that common (e.g. maybe 1 in 10 groups on the Sheep Meadow).  What was surprising was not that there were a few people having drinks, but that every bar was completely full.

Anyway, across the bridge was a footpath along the canal which continued (I presume) a very long way.  Abutting the other side of the footpath was a courtyard that I entered through a small hole in the wall, to find myself in another market.  This market had food vendors, art galleries, and more knick-knacks.  I spent about an hour there and discovered that it went quite a long way, through buildings that once housed, among other things, stables and a veterinary hospital.  I highly recommend it, as it's one of the most extensive markets I've ever visited, and had a great variety of things to see (or if you're so inclined, to purchase).

Having exhausted my interest in markets for the day, I decided to hop on a bus outside, which said "Hampstead Heath via Trafalgar Square."  After about 10 minutes I found myself in Hampstead and discerned that the bus had in fact already passed Trafalgar Square, and after peeking around it's very cute main street and an underground toilet hopped back on the bus going in the other direction (Pimlico , and rode it to the square.

Trafalgar Square which was smaller than I expected, except for the massive column and lions commemorating Lord Nelson, which were larger, presumably because he was short.  I left the square and wandered across the river to find myself (to my partial dismay) in another market!  It turns out that it was the Thames Festival, and it was quite fortuitous because I was able to sign up for ZipCar for a discounted rate (which was then credited back to my account for use, so it was essentially free if I use the credit), which I had intended to do anyway (it is much cheaper than in New York).  I walked along the water to the millennium bridge, where I found a fantastic fire festival set up, with whirling, oscillating, mechanical globes of oil lamps and flaming flower pots.  It was really quite spectacular, even more so because in New York such a display would have been observed from a distance with binoculars, while here young children lay under and jumped around a variety of flaming contraptions.  I was both apprehensive and pleased.  I crossed the bridge feeling rather happy to find the dome of St. Paul's Cathedral looming over me, and made my way home.

The next day I returned to the festival with a young couple that my parents had introduced me to, and had dinner (my first out... it was bland) and watched a fantastic fireworks display with a finale that filled our field of vision with sparkling gold glitter (and rained ash on us... that was interesting).

All in all, a great weekend!  Hopefully I'll get around to posting photos eventually.

My night at the Prom(s)

In America, the word "prom" evokes images of happy teenagers in suits and dresses (which are, depending on your generation, grand, beautiful,  slinky, or scanty) attending an evening ball toward the end of their junior or senior years of high school, to reminisce and generally have a good time.

In London, the word "prom," especially in the summer, will take on a very different meaning: a single classical concert from a summer series of over 70 held over eight weeks, mostly at the Royal Albert Hall.  The BBC Proms were founded in 1895, and are apparently known best for their final night (as opposed to late night), which is used by audience members to show great amounts of Britishness, a word I wish we Americans had the equivalent of.

Anyway, I attended the proms on the second to last day (Friday the 11th), for the second to last evening, and last late night performances.  I arrived at 6:00 sharp behind the Royal Albert Hall, to get into the "day prommers" line, which is for tickets in the "arena," and discovered that I would have to wait in the very back of the line, where I was not guaranteed entry (my friend from Cambridge, Riddhi, was much further up with some friends of his).  Fortunately, after much waiting, I was able to reach the door, and buy my ticket, at which point I was ushered downstairs to into the depths of the theater to the orchestra section, where I found my companions and proceeded to emerge onto the floor of the hall, which had been quite deliberately stripped of almost any form of seating except for (as far as I could see) a few chairs around the edge occupied by sleeping, obese men and prim ladies who scowled at the rest of us as we appeared to approach their chairs, as if we might somehow displace them by mere fact of our presence.

I wish I could say that I was surprised, but I had unfortunately been warned that the arena tickets (for only £5.00) at the Proms are standing room only.  For the first concert of the evening, we arrived just before it started, so we were crammed at the back of the arena, but the view and sound were still spectacular (being such a small space).  The problem is that standing through two hours of the Vienna Philharmonic, while fantastic sounding, is extremely painful and exhausting, especially when you haven't eaten yet.  With a little bit of luck and help, we managed to find food during the intermission, which was perfect because the second half was a fantastic performance of Don Quixote.

For the second prom, #75, we arrived in the line just as they were letting people in.  But this time, there were two lines - one for people who had just seen the last show, and one for everyone else.  We hopped on the first one just as they were letting the second line follow, and when we arrived in the arena we found that only the very front part was filled, and then only with people sitting on the floor.  Revealed to us was a fountain in the center of the arena, which was actually running for the pre-show arrivals.  The second show (and the reason I was convinced to attend), was the Silk Road Ensemble, with Yo-Yo Ma.  Fantastic.  Absolutely fantastic.  It was a smaller ensemble (it varied from 6 - 18 people depending on the song) and they played fusion Asian and European arrangements, but the best parts were that they improvised, and that they really enjoyed what they were doing.  Whenever someone wasn't playing, they were grinning madly (it's hard to grin and play a cello or violin it seems), and for those who could (drummers and strummers) while they were playing too.  To top it all off, it was the best instrumental concert I have heard in person (although enjoyment is obviously influenced by what you see too).  Unfortunately I couldn't stay standing the whole time, but I managed it for about half of it (on and off).

Anyway, a fantastic evening, and I have to highly recommend attending a concert by the Silk Road Ensemble if you have a chance, and also the proms if you're here in the summer and can stand (or buy a seat ahead of time).

Great banking... if you can get your money in

The british banking system has a lot of advantages over the American one:

• You can transfer money instantly and for free to any individual (in the US - unless you are at the same bank - this is never instant and always involves a paper check or third-party service like paypal)
• The credit and debit cards all use a pin instead of a signature (and have a smart chip in them, the value of which I am uncertain), which makes fraud more difficult (since you must know the pin) but, I suppose, also harder to detect (since if someone learned your pin and stole your card you cannot do handwriting recognition).
• Almost all ATMs are free, so you do not need to look for your bank or have a fee reimbursing debit card (though it also means they don't have fee reimbursing debit cards).

However, there are a few distinct disadvantages:

• The credit card rewards are awful compared to those in the states.  For example, if you are on an airline miles or membership rewards program you will get 1 point per pound instead of the exact same point per $.  The top cash back card has 1.5% if you spend a load of money each year, while it is relatively simple to find a 1.5% or even 2% cashback credit card in the US, some of which don't even charge foreign transaction fees.
• There are no checking accounts that waive all foreign exchange fees (though there are really only a few in the states that I know of).

and, most importantly:

It's really hard to deposit money.

One of my housemates called it the only banking system in the world where you walk into the bank with cash and emerge from the bank with cash.

The problem is that the only instant or easy way to deposit money is at the counter.  In the US, all banks that I've seen offer ATM deposits at the machine.  It can range from filling in a slip at the counter and putting your checks and cash in an envelope to needing no slip to needing no envelope at all, and having the checks scanned and cash instantly counted and credited.  Often you will get a credit of $100 or $200 for the envelope deposits and checks too.  When I visited my a branch of my bank in the UK (one of the largest retail banks) there was a massive line of people waiting for the counter, 10 "cash machines," which were withdrawal only, a single, unfunctioning deposit machine, and a drop box.  To add to the indignity of having only a single, unfuncitoning deposit machine, if it had been functioning I would have had to fill in a deposit slip and there was no instant credit, meaning that the drop box was identical in function.  So, since I had cash, I had to wait in a line to get it into the account (I wanted to sign up for a mobile plan, and so needed some funds in my bank account).

I wouldn't be so surprised if this had been a small regional bank, but it's one of the largest banks in the world!  The two largest banks in New York City, Chase and Bank of America both have machines that scan your checks, automatically recognize the dollar value written on them, and give you an instant credit for up to $100 or $200.  Their machines will also count bills and deposit them instantly to your account.

On my way back to the office I checked out every other bank branch I passed (which was about 7 different banks).  Two of the banks had the same style of deposit machine as mine, but one of them (which I am tempted to join) had what I really wanted: three instant cash counting and depositing machines (although this is still the only branch of that bank I have seen them at). 

I had always thought that the US banking system was way behind because in Hong Kong we had no-slip deposit machines and (a few) cash counting machines back in the late 90s, but I realize now that perhaps Hong Kong was just ahead of the time in that particular area (I still think the check scanning machines in the states are the best thing).  Not suprisingly, it was HSBC which had the cash counting machines here...

Hangers: An Ikea Story

When I first arrived here last week, I discovered that I badly needed two things:

1. A very large glass for water at work, because the water machines self-dispense 2 oz cups, unless you have a bottle to select the "500ml bottle fill" option.
2. Clothes hangers.

While I was fairly certain I could deal with number one by going to any department store, number two was surprisingly tricky.  My first thought was about where I would go in the US, in order of increasing difficulty for New Yorkers: Bed, Bath and Beyond, Target, Ikea, and Wal-Mart.  Unfortunately, a bit of sleuthing and questioning determined that in fact there was nothing like Bed Bath, Target, or Wal-Mart in London.  Ikea, meanwhile, was rather far away.  Various grocery (Waitrose), department (Marks & Spencer) and catalog (Argos) stores were suggested and examined, but they were either ludicrously expensive (the first two) or out of stock (the latter).  Last week, I resigned myself that I would have to go to Ikea on Friday.

I sorted it all out - it was easy to get to Ikea from work, since it's on the same subway line as my office.  Getting home was a bit tricker because I would have a lot of things, and didn't want to backtrack.  A bit of quick research determined that I could take a bus to either the London Overground, a commuter railroad that stops by my house, or further along to a later station on the tube's Central Line, which also stops where I live.

Getting to Ikea was easy, and I had dinner at the restaurant (priced higher than I thought), followed by some easy shopping.  Except that they were out of the 49p/5 plastic hangers.  After all that!  Oh well, I got the wooden ones instead. 

Arms laden with bags full of hangers, bathroom organizers, storage boxes and tableware, I left Ikea to get to my bus.  However, as I was confused about precisely which way to go (I did not yet have my new phone, which I had been hoping would negate the need for a map book), I stopped at the first bus stop, and determined my location.  I also discovered that although there was not a direct bus from that stop to the Central Line, there was one to the Overground, which would save me a five minute walk.  Besides, I was interested to see the Overground, as I wasn't quite sure how to classify it.  So, when the bus arrived, I hope on.

Big mistake.

The bus immediately turned down an alleyway.  "Fine," I thought, "it's going a back route."  And indeed it did.  It went around and along and down every little dead-end alleyway in the neighborhood.  Finally, it emerged onto the main road, 50 yards down from where we had started, and turned back from whence we had come.  It not only was going the back way, but it was going the long way too.  It looped all the way around.  London has long loopy roads, so consider an arc shaped like a bridge - I wanted to go down the left side of the semicircle and then southwest - the bus went off the top of the semicircle, came back, then went down the right side, then meandered it's way all the way to the station.  The entire ride, which would have gotten me past the overground station and to the tube station in about 15 minutes took more than an hour.

Finally, I got to the overground, swiped in, and lugged all of my stuff to the proper platform (the furthest away) before hearing an announcement that there were no more trains going to my destination (south, on a particular branch).  Well, whatever.  I hopped on the first train going south on another branch, and got off the first stop. 

Fortunately, the London transport system is very good at posting bus maps everywhere, so I was able to find a bus stop a long block away that would take me home.  Turns out that it was a very good bus stop (the bus home came every 5-10 minutes, even at that time of night). 

Being a Friday night there were a few people in a compromised state sitting on the bench, comparing buses (they were making no sense).  As the bus pulled up, a lady said to me, rolling her eyes, "the things you hear on a Friday night."  I responded, "yes, indeed."  "Ugh, an American..."****

Anyway, it took me a couple of hours to get home, and although I was exhausted, I figure that the only way to really learn a city is to get lost in it, as long as you can find your way home.

****Ok, so she didn't say that, but she didn't respond, and it would have been much funnier if she had.

Oxford is small town

So, I went to Oxford this past weekend (hence the dearth of posts) to visit my lovely friend Katie from high school, and it wasn't at all what I expected.  I knew that Oxford was fundamentally different from American universities, as it is really a cooperative of its constituent colleges, rather than a single institution that has left some independence to its educational units.  Rather fittingly, I think that the analogy of United States (American University) vs European Union (Oxford) is a rather accurate one.

Anyway, despite knowing about the educational structure, I was not prepared for the physical reality.  Somehow I still expected there to be a defined campus, with open quads and grand vistas, but instead (while exceedingly pretty) Oxford is really just a medium sized gothic town.  The colleges are simply (beautiful) off-limits buildings with courtyards and gardens, and have no structural relationship to each other, or any sense of connectedness.  Of course, that should be expected from one of the oldest educational institutions in the world, but it still disappointed me, as if they had missed an opportunity at some point in the past to truly combine them and eradicate any non-residential distinction (to end up with a system like Harvard or Yale, where your college is just where you live and socialize).  What was actually galling to me though is that your undergraduate experience depends so much on which college you attend.  Some colleges are ridiculously wealthy and have heavy subsidies (I am told) and nothing but the best facilities and tutors (who do most of your teaching).  Others... don't.  If you think about them as separate institutions, it's acceptable (and just a group of small schools who share labs and exam rooms), but we have a tendency to group them all together as "Oxford," though your experience and education can vary quite widely.

Really though, it was more the disconnect from my expectations that jarred me, as I'm sure the experience and education are all par excellance.  I really had a lovely time, and got to have a few real English experiences.  On Saturday night after I arrived I was taken for bangers and mash at The Chequers, which (I am again told) is quite famous.  I had lamb and apricot sausage, which was delicious.  I will probably go again next time I'm up there (or risk some London bangers and mash one day).  I have been convinced to try some other English specialties, like (deep fried) fish and chips, which has the potential be good, but has thus far only been offered to me at the company cafeteria.

After dinner, which was attended by Katie and her very nice friend who is moving to London (and will thus probably see some more), we went and had a long chat and ice cream at G&D's, which was pretty good.  I say pretty good because it seems like British ice cream, no matter how exotic the flavor, shies away from any good chunky ingredients - it's all rich and creamy, with the occasional (soft) chocolate chip.

On Sunday, I got a tour of Oxford - there are a bunch of main shopping streets throughout the town, with beautiful cafes, restaurants, clothing stores and book shops.  I got to see Katie's college (Green Templeton) and the Radcliffe Observatory around which it was built, which had a good view and a really cool observation floor.  (More photos at bottom)

After the tour we went punting in the river with a picnic and another friend.  The Oxford river would best be described as a creek without any of the excitement (but all of the beautiful shores).  It varies from 15 to 30 feet wide and 5 to 10 feet deep, and has an indeterminate flow of water.  Punting, meanwhile, is the least logical method of propelling a boat in open water, and was thus decided upon for this waterway, where it can be demonstrated proudly, like a Segway in a shopping mall.  It involves standing on the front of the boat (technically you always stand on the "back" but Oxford and Cambridge have opposite definitions, and I agree with Cambridge) of the boat with a 15 foot long pole, which you push against the "riverbed" to propel yourself forward.  You then let it drag behind you to use as a rudder, pull it forward, and go again.  Anyway, punting was fun, and I got the hang of it (despite always needing to correct my direction) pretty quickly.  While one rotating person punted, the others enjoyed a traditional picnic of English cocktail sausages, carrots, and... hummus. (More photos at bottom)

After punting we met back up again with the friend from Saturday night, who served us tea along with some scones.  Katie and I brought along a trifle we had leftover from the picnic, which I think would have been better without the jello.  Then I headed back to London, where, fortunately, the first bus stop is right outside my house. 

Radcliffe Observatory:

Punting:

Supermarkets, or Of Square Bread and Warm Eggs

Today I wandered across the street from the office for my first relaxed grocery shopping experience in the United Kingdom.  Though I have been to the supermarket multiple times since arriving, I have always been brutally hungry and thus in a rush to purchase any food whatsoever, and have had no chance to actually browse the aisles.  This time however, I was getting lunch, and I was not yet at a critical hunger point.  My goal was simple: peanut butter and lemon curd sandwich.  First stop - bread.  I figured there would be no difficulty here, but I was wrong, and in a most ghastly way. 

All the bread was square. 

I think you know what I mean.  Like Wonder Bread.  Ick.  I set about looking for a rounded-top, high quality loaf, and saw the cheap store brand (85p).  Nice.  Now a look at the square bread... 1.45.  Huh?  I think that in America we've come to associate the squareness of bread with cheapness (or, you could say, Wonderfulness), and so the less square, the more expensive.  Hence why the square bread at the grocery is $1.00, but the Arnold's and Pepperidge Farms loafs are $3.99 or $4.99.  Well, so what?  I'm attracted to the cheap bread.  This is good.  85p it is.

I set off around the corner to find the lemon curd (I didn't want to steal my roommates for heretical peanut butter and lemon curd sandwiches), and took a quick glance on my left.  There they were... eggs.  And not just normal eggs... warm eggs.  Little packets of delicious salmonella, sitting right there on the shelf.  As Ashley so duly noted in her comments to my first England post, I'm not so sure I will be eating many eggs, or at least raw ones (so much for cookie dough!).

Anyway, I finally reached the lemon curd (and peanut butter).  To my dismay, there were only two brands of lemon curd, and neither one was Wilkins & Sons, my favored british brand.  Strangely, there were only 3 varities of Wilkins & Sons jams (5 at another store I went to later) compared to about 12 in my New York City grocery store.  Very bizarre.  No matter, the English know how to make the stuff, so I went for another one.

As for peanut butter... ugh.  There were only two brands.  One had no sugar.  If I wanted dry nut paste I would eat linseed, so no thanks.  The second one was a bit dodgy (new word!), but I had no choice.  Upon examination at my desk, it was found to be dry, and a bit grainy (e.g. not so creamy as one would hope).  I will now be on a quest for Skippy!

Interestingly (to me) I didn't need to sign up for a club card, I could just grab a temporary one and sign up later (it gets both discounts and points for later use).

Fresh Lemon Curd!

My housemate made fresh lemon curd! FANTASTIC! Now if only there were some peanut butter around...

Contact Info

After the last post I figured I should give out my contact information in a private, yet sensible way. Here's how you can get in touch with me (replacing JFKENNEDY with my equivalent first initial + middle initial + surname):

• Call or text (412)JFKENNEDY (using the letters associated with each keypad number) - I will receive an email transcript and can listen online. I will call you back with my skypephone (different phone, same service).
• Skype me at JFKENNEDY.  If you skype me and I am on my computer (not skypephone), or you are on skype and I skype you from my computer, then we can video chat!
• Email me at JFKENNEDY@gmail.com (and I will call or email you back)
• Gchat me at JFKENNEDY@gmail.com
• Email me and get my mobile number and call it at ridiculous rates.

There you go!

I have credit??

Today I went to get a mobile phone. I settled on the HTC Magic, because it had the features I really wanted (google maps, a touch screen, email, and a good web browser) for the lowest price (free with plan). I went to the shop by the office, and got approved for the credit (!!!!!). The lady thought it might have something to do with the fact that I already had a bank account (yessss) and that I work for Barclays. Anyway, the plan they offered me in the store was the same price as online ($30), but without free internet ($5) and with fewer texts! So I left. Sadly I couldn't sign up online because my previous address was out of the country, so I called them up. On the phone, they told me I had already been approved because of the credit check done in store (note to people who have credit, but not enough history online - you can get pre-approved in store!), and gave me 200 more minutes!! My original plan was going to have just 100 minutes, and then I would upgrade later, but now I have all the minutes I need! It will arrive on Friday.

Speaking of phones, if you would like to call me, you can skype me at any time.  A cell phone company here has a pay as you go phone plan with unlimited skype to skype calls and skype calls to foreign phone lines (at skype rates) so I can make calls to the US for a mere $2.99 a month (they expect you to receive calls, which are paid for by the caller in this country, or to make domestic calls. They thought wrong!).   For how to get in contact with me see the next post.

Welcome to England, please reclaim your baggage

As I got off of the plane this morning, exhausted because I chose to partake of the airplane meal service instead of sleep, I noticed a sign on the way to immigration: "Baggage Reclaim," it announced, roundly slapping my American sensibilities and telling me one thing - this was a foreign land. In America, you only need to claim it once!

In all seriousness, even on my first day in England, there were plenty of things to notice. Sadly, I'm tired, so I can't elaborate more than to bullet them out. Also, I cannot find the list I emailed home. I think that the work computer believes I’m a spam address now. Great.

• Almost everything physical is small. There are exceptions of course, such as the monstrous mega-mall near my house, but in general it holds. The rooms are small; the cars are small; the people are small; the portions are small; the houses are small; and of course
• the tube is small. The tube (London's Subway) is really small. The fares are not. The trains are like the smallest trains on the New York City subway (the IRT, or numbered lines) made 2 feet narrower, and the highest point on the inside made to be 6'6" precisely. And I do mean highest point, because from that highest, center point, the roof slants downward at least a foot and a half to the doors, a mere 6" away. Okay, I exaggerate, but it feels like 6". My first thought was that I finally understood the image of underground railways as sardine cans. I found myself physically shuddering when the train arrived after my interchange. Not only that, but the doors guillotine closed after a few friendly warnings (which everyone heeds), and they have the indecency to make you step up about 8" into the trains. People will tell you "but they're so clean and efficient!" This is entirely beside the point - the reason they are so clean is that otherwise nobody would ever get on them for fear of catching meningitis. Efficiency is added incentive for the few unconvinced stragglers. If you have any doubts, then consider for a moment the spectacle of the platform announcer. In other subway systems people actually try to get onto trains, so announcers are unnecessary other than to inform. In London they need a patron to coax you into them, and to soothe any fears, like children on a field trip to the dentist. “Please step all the way into the train… yes, get on the train, yes you really should, go on, step on in.” You could say that they’re just reminding people to be polite, but then why do they do it when the trains have nobody even standing in them?
• People say "cheers" at really inopportune times. I sold someone some dollars at the current exchange rate to get sterling without paying a bank markup, and was bode farewell with "cheers." How do you respond??? "You're welcome?" But they didn't thank you... how about "thanks?" No... that's not quite right, because then you're thanking them for saying "cheers," which heaven forbid might elicit another one. And not only are "thank you"s replaced, but so are other farewells. I'm not sure I'll get the hang of this.
• The elevators have light-bars inside of them to warn you when they are closing (red) or tell you it’s safe to enter (green). They go down both sides of the inside of the door, so they are invisible when the door is closed. Most strangely, everyone obeys them – I only saw one other person stop a closing lift door. I see now the true purpose of the subway guillotines.
• The grocery stores are shockingly inefficient. American (e.g. big, bad, and carbon intensive) grocery stores have open pit and closed wall freezers for frozen goods, closed refrigerators for some milk and dairy, and then rectangular open fridges for some other goods. I always thought those were bad. My experience here (which I am told is replicated elsewhere) is that the they don’t even bother trying – the refrigerators just release cool air onto shelves of produce and milk, which mingles with passing (warming) customers, and the other air in the store. There is no attempt at insulation. The freezers, fortunately, were more sensible (wall-freezers over pit-freezers), but I was still horrified.[Having moved back to America... I was wrong]
• London black cabs are icky. I say this based entirely on their external appearance, but really, they’re very ugly, so I must be right.