From Christmas to a Castle

Christmas dinner was a large success. In spite of the morning stress that resulted from Tom cutting his finger while chopping parsnips to Tom’s brother shattering a specially aged bottle of wine, we had a wonderfully indulgent meal. After disposing of the hoards of wrapping paper we all tore off various presents, we sat down to a turkey feast. The small gifts inside of our Christmas crackers included a kite, corkscrew, tape measure, miniature screwdrivers, and nail clippers. We all chose which gifts we wanted to keep based on who could get the most use out of each. Believe me, it was not a very cutthroat deliberation. I simply wanted the kite because I envisioned flying the small thing somewhere in the English countryside! I faced no objections.

            On Boxing Day, Tom took me to the largest, most intact part of Hadrian’s Wall, at Housesteads. The wind was howling and the sky was dark. But the crappy weather merely made me feel more like the Roman soldiers must have while hiding behind the walls of their camp. While intriguing to stand atop the site of the historic Roman battle camp, I would not have been able to distinguish the granary from the latrines, had the small signs not been put in place on the ruined stones. And to squeeze in one more tourist event while up north, today I explored Bamburgh Castle. In the way that Edinburgh is pronounced, do not be fooled by the ‘gh’ at the end, because where I was today is sounded out “bamburuh.” The drive took about an hour, during which the ever-so-British towns I encountered amused me. We passed signs for Morpeth, Gosforth, Shilbottle, Alnwick, and Jedburgh (which, you guessed it, is pronounced differently from the way it’s spelled). Tom and I spent about two hours on the grounds of Bamburgh Castle, right up until we were forced off of the property because the guard was locking the gate. The staterooms were beautiful and I really enjoyed seeing the intense armory the castle contained. Although I kept my eyes and ears out for the famous ghosts of The Pink Lady and Dr. John Sharp, my search was futile. I guess really hoping to see a ghost is not enough to conjure one up. Anyway, I finished off the journey with a pint of Aspall’s cider at a local pub, fittingly named “The Castle Inn.” However, I was a bit thrown off when the menu displayed the terms “chips” and “fries” interchangeably on different pages. That is completely contradictory of this establishment and I am offended that the staff did not stand their ground and decide to use one term throughout! Regardless, the chips/fries were crispy, the crisps were crunchy, and the BLT was delicious.

Deck the Halls

           

With Christmas right around the corner, I have become aware of several cultural differences between Yankees and English folk, simply about how we celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ. Now, let me clear my name by stating that my observations may be skewed, since I am only half Christian (Catholic, to be specific). In fact, I have spent the last ten years going to my cousins’ “What’s a Jew to do Today?” party every December 25^th in Hamilton, Massachusetts. Further, I need to remind you that I am generalizing here. I am sure that many Americans perform these rituals I have found funky and fresh here in England. I also do not doubt that many British people adhere to a more modern, Americanized Christmas. That being said, allow me to share some noteworthy differences between Christmases here versus back home in the good ol’ U.S. of A.

1.                    Lights. In the States, families cannot WAIT to string lights all across the outside of their homes. Around trees, across the house itself, and some include flashing giant reindeer or the big man himself waving from his sleigh. The British reserve most decoration for the inside of their houses. They find public lighting garish and unattractive.      

2.                    Television. Sure, the content that gets broadcast is actually similar in terms of what both countries show on Christmas Day (It’s a Wonderful Life, anyone?). However, I watched a hilarious show called “Grumpy Old Men” about the overall mundane and anticlimactic nature of Christmas time. This episode (‘Grumpy Guide to Christmas’) featured a play-by-play of how a typical English Christmas occurs. The narrator covered everything from awkward gifts (such as candle holders) to how hung-over everyone is because they drank so much on Christmas Eve in stressful anticipation of the big day. Very British. I also enjoyed the Christmas Special of Morecambe and Wise (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Morecambe_and_Wise).

3.                    Christmas Crackers. I personally think these are really fun, albeit quite lame. They are cardboard cylinders wrapped in festive paper that you pull apart with a partner. The ripping sets off a popping noise and out pours a collection of paper crowns, small plastic figurines, and a joke (Example: What do you get when you cross a skeleton and a detective? Sherlock Bones).

4.                    Food. Despite my lack of cooking skills, I have been learning in the kitchen for the past 48 hours, making a variety of stews, gravies, a cabbage dish, and roast turkey. We have snacked on sausage rolls. I ate some haggis for breakfast recently (a pudding that contains sheep’s organs) and I love the zesty flavoring, as long as I don’t think about what it is I’m ingesting. I also find mince pies delicious, and observed Tom’s brother gather the ingredients that go into mincemeat (meat not being one of them). Mince pies contain currants, dried fruit pieces, almonds, citrus peel, cinnamon, and sugar. There are endless British desserts that I am sure I’ll soon write about.

This is my list I’ve concocted thus far. I will be able to embellish further after an exciting Christmas day tomorrow!   

Geordie Shore

Having recently walked around Newcastle, I have been introduced to a rare breed of British folk: that of Geordie. If you want a mainstream, commercialized version of the young members of the population, you can simply watch “Geordie Shore,” a television show based off of MTV’s “Jersey Shore.” However, many of these people are not orange and muscular, but extremely down-to-earth and friendly. I sauntered around the mall, where I spotted the British version of the Dollar Store, called ‘Poundland.’ I also bought a pair of tights at Superdrug. I bought a CD Christmas present in HMV, a store similar to Best Buy. Further, every time I handed a cashier my cash in British Pounds, I could not help but become annoyed at the U.S. for their taxes on various store items. For example, the CD I purchased cost 13 pounds. The item was EXACTLY 13 pounds. Those of us in America buying Christmas presents at this time of year are faced with the hassle of gifts being $12.99 or $17.95. Realistically, it makes no sense. Everyone is way more satisfied with the exchanging of cash when the price tag is a full, even number, and not some weird change of a penny, nickel, or obnoxious compilation of 95 cents. Thus, despite certain goods being pricier in England than across the pond, I feel it may be worth it, if not simply for the satisfaction of handing over a full cash value and not needing to receive petty change. Unfortunately, I will only remain in Newcastle for about another week, and then I’m off to London, where ALL prices are jacked up, simply because of the city’s popularity.      

Trains, Planes, and Automobiles

It has come to my attention that over the past week I have traveled from New York City to Boston to London to Newcastle. The endless hours of transport seem a petty price to pay for the adventures I have embarked upon. I have taken public buses, trains, taxis, and two planes in such a short span of time. My favorite activity upon returning to England is to reminisce about the subtle cultural differences between here and the U.S. Because, as Tom’s mom says, “You do not speak English.” I won’t even get into the spelling discrepancies (as you can see I am using U.S. spelling for my blog). For starters, Lay’s chips have become Walker’s crisps. I have been anxious while on the road because we drive on the opposite side. I realize I need to become accustomed to people asking, “You all right?” because, in America, we simply ask, “How are you?” to which people inevitably reply, “I’m all right.” When British people ask an American, “You all right?” it almost implies that something seems wrong. This backwards language takes some getting used to. People up north do not say “me,” they say “us,” such as, “Let us call you back in five minutes.” Who the hell else was on the phone with me? Last I checked I was speaking to one person! However, one will say, “I bumped me head,” rather than using a possessive “my.”

The London Underground railway system is SUPERB in comparison to New York City’s grimy subway. The train cars in England contain plush, cushioned seats, with a friendly Brit reminding you to “mind the gap” when stepping onto the train from the platform. The NYC trains have dirty, hard seats, and you can hardly ride two stops without encountering a crazy person lecturing about the state of our society to nobody in particular. Basically, even bums on the street appear better in England simply because of their accent, which is much more pleasant on the ear than the harsh, grating R’s we drop in American conversation. I will continue to observe and report back on these unique citizens of the UK.       

Snakes on a Plane and Border Control

            What a flight I had from JFK to London Heathrow! I was extremely tired and fell into a comatose sleep, ready for an easy overnight flight, when suddenly a woman screaming at someone interrupted my dreams. I peeked open my eyes to see someone standing, shrilly yelling and pointing at a man. I slowly realized she was not even speaking English; it sounded more like Hebrew. I turned to the Southern man next to me, who was on his way to Cape Town, and we both shrugged our shoulders. However, the yelling escalated, joined by another woman, and a man who kept shouting “I was calm!” The lights on the plane came up and I had to watch a flight attendant detain the man, who had begun physically strangling this woman. I speculate that all three passengers involved were drunk. Regardless, two or three men had to take this violent passenger to the back of the plane and pin him down for the remainder of the flight. Needless to say, I was so startled that I barely slept for the final four hours of the ride. Upon landing, all passengers were asked to remain in their seats while about six police boarded the plane and handcuffed the perpetrator. Further, one of the women was so drunk that the whole cabin watched as a policewoman helped her up and led her to the front of the plane with her hair disheveled and eyes half closed. Naturally, I followed suit of the passenger in front of me and sniped a picture of the whole ordeal. Yet, I soon realized that the trials of my journey into England were not over.

            Upon reaching the UK border agency, I was immediately screwed. Sure, I had filled out my landing card as a visitor, but I had no valid street address that I was visiting and listed my occupation as “recent graduate.” I knew as I walked up to the immigration officer that I was screwed. He asked me the length of my stay and whom I was there for. I proceeded to explain that I was there to visit friends, mainly staying with a boyfriend. He went on to state, “it’s always a boy.” However, as he understood that I had recently graduated and previously studied for a year in London, he asked all these questions about Tom. I blatantly dug myself into a deeper hole as I answered honestly that I did not have his street address in London or Newcastle. I seemed even sketchier when I was unable to hand over his phone number, because I only ever Skype with Tom from my computer and phone. I told him that Tom would be at arrivals waiting for me, so the officer handed me a slip of paper. The form read, “you are liable to be examined/further examined by: me or another Immigration Officer,” including “I am detaining you” and “I have also detained your passport, identity card or travel document.” The reasons for detention were described as “I have further enquiries to make and more questions to ask you.” Everything had happened so quickly, that I was more focused on making it to the flight than actually making it across the English border. I wasn’t even able to give evidence of a return ticket, because it was on the browser in my phone, which could not be opened without Internet in the immigration area. Just as I was debating what filthy part of the airport I would be sent to overnight before having to fly back to the U.S., the immigration officer returned. He so kindly stated that he would grant me entry, not before reminding me that they had been unable to page Tom from the airport, I had no UK address (and thus further lack of evidence of a British sponsor), didn’t have Tom’s mobile number, and had no evidence of a return flight. He said, “I just don’t understand how this relationship is going to work” and “I am just going to take your word for it, but I recommend you leave on the date you’ve told me you’re going to leave, or it will also reflect poorly on Tom.” Despite having to explain/justify my long distance relationship to a perfect stranger, I was so grateful that he gave me the benefit of the doubt, and promised that I will NEVER make that mistake again. So, after recounting the story of the plane altercation to an inquisitive baggage claim employee, I made it through the arrivals gate and into London once again…

Last Licks in the States

December 15, 2012

           

Being fortunate enough to afford the luxury of spontaneous travel, here I sit at the John F. Kennedy International Airport. I am still contemplating the theme of this blog. For the next month, however, it will certainly be about my traveling experiences within London and Newcastle. My primary goal will be to document the hilarity of each day of this journey. Since experiencing London two years prior, as a study abroad student, I wonder if I have changed as a person since departing King’s College. The circumstances of my return have changed. I find myself laughing in the airport as I reflect on how stressful yet simple it was to purchase a last-minute Christmas gift for my boyfriend’s family. My mother had this wonderful idea to purchase See’s Candy for them, since their peanut brittle and chocolate assortments are incomparable to many UK candy companies, I’m sure. Needless to say, my father and I sped down the road toward the Natick Mall to accomplish this task. The Xmas shopping was so hectic that my dad had to drive in circles around the $5 premium parking lot while I ran in and bought the candy. Even funnier, he thought we were increasing the levels of the parking lot and made me feel crazy when I claimed we were going in circles. However, on our way out, he made me aware that he was indeed passing the same entrance over and over. Luckily, I made it home just in time to throw my final belongings together and say goodbye to Nana (god forbid she miss me before I depart!). Anyway, I hear my gate being called for boarding, so I’m off to cross the pond. See you in London!      

My First Blog Post

11th December, 2012 (slight delay in starting up my website)

I am a writer. As I post up on the couch of my friends’ Brooklyn apartment listening to the police sirens and rumbling of cars outside, I question if these noises will one day encompass my lifestyle. I wonder if this first blogging experience will enlighten me. Or at least validate my ability to label myself as “a writer.” I have been so accustomed to analytical essays and meticulously compiled blackboard posts that I cannot even believe I am pounding out these words as quickly as I am. You see, I majored in English recently and have decided to continue writing, because, well, as an unemployed recent college graduate, what else do I have to do? Sure, I can sit at this computer all day blasting out job applications. Believe me, I HAVE been doing that for a while now. However, one must take a break from her day to self-reflect if she is to remain sane. These are the chronicles of my job search. Actually, it’s more about the journey of my life search, the paths I will choose to shape my future. Ok, maybe it isn’t that dramatic, but hyperbolizing my daily activities makes for a better story, right? Anyway, I will continue to write, mainly for myself. Perhaps one day for my audience. Each day is vastly different than the last and I have no idea what tomorrow will bring. However, I am making progress in securing some form of employment (at least, that is how I feel today). I am grateful that since my graduation in May I have saved money through waitressing in my summer town and filling in for a family’s au pair this fall. More to come with the details of my job search!