Isn't It Ironic, Don't You Think?

An LA girl turned 28.

She won the relocation lottery and moved to London practically the next day.

It's a black fly cause I have no window screens.

It's showing up for kick-off two minutes too late.

It's like rain on NFL day.

It's only a tube ride, with your Oyster paid.

It's the good advice the 49ers just didn't take.

And who would've thought?

It figures.

It's a suspended line, when you're already late.

A signal failure sign on your getaway break.

It's like 10,000 fans, when all you need is your wife.

It's finding my seat in London's Wembley Stadium for the first NFL game of my life.

And isn't it ironic?

A little too ironic...

Yeah, I really do think.

Halloween at Highgate Cemetery

I'm not sure what I was expecting Halloween-wise here in the UK, but I did hear some grumbling about how it's not a widely celebrated holiday over here. Much to my surprise, I actually did see quite a bit of Halloween themed goods and decor in the shops, but I didn't see too much fancy dress (costume) offerings, which is pretty much the best part about Halloween after the candy.

It's been a few years since I've dressed up, but it's mostly because I feel a bit too old to go out to clubs and I'm definitely way too old to go trick-or-treating. And the costumes have just gotten sluttier and sluttier each year, and it's near impossible to find a costume for an adult female that doesn't have your kibbles and bits on display. A lot of the girls in LA who go out to celebrate get their costumes from Trashy Lingerie. 'Nuf said. Lately, I've had fun passing out candy at my parents' house to the neighborhood kids that come by in costume. I seriously doubt that I'll have any trick-or-treaters come by my flat this year, so I've wracked my brain in trying to figure out how to celebrate Halloween properly here in London...

I know, why not visit a cemetery?! Brilliant!

London's ringed by seven large cemeteries, and Highgate Cemetery is a Grade I listed cemetery in Islington, just a short tube ride away from our 'hood. If you've read Her Fearful Symmetry by Audrey Niffeneger (the author of The Time Traveler's Wife), you know what cemetery I'm talking about. Anyway, the cemetery is split into two parts, the East and West. I was anxious to visit the West side, since it's a bit older, has tons of beautiful greenery, and has grander structures than the East side. Karl Marx is buried in the East side, but I'm not that big on Communism, so I thought I'd postpone visiting him for a later time.

Anyway, the day started out pretty sunny so we left our flat with sunglasses on, and an hour later, we were wishing we had brought our umbrella instead. It was raining pretty heavily by the time we arrived at the cemetery, and a Spanish girl in the queue ahead of us stuck a plastic Tesco bag over her head to keep her hair dry. Clever girl. J and I just stuck it out, and the viewing the cemetery was totally worth it. The West side can only be visited with a tour guide, and they seem to leave every fifteen minutes or so. We got a David Attenborough type guide, and he's the first person I've met in the UK who has a BBC accent, which is more rare than you'd believe. Anyway, the tour lasted about an hour or so, and some things worth noting:

• All of Charles Dickens' family are buried in Highgate, except for Dickens himself
• The Russian spy turned informant, Alexander Litnivenko, who died of radioactive poisoning is buried there
• Rumors of a vampire caused people to stick a stake through dead bodies, you know, just in case
• There have been numerous cases of body snatchings for medical students to dissect
• The oldest tree in the cemetery is around 400 years old
• Dissenters (Catholics, Baptists, etc.) were buried in a different part of the cemetery, away from the Anglicans 
• George Michael's mother is buried there, and he's apparently a very devoted son who cares for her gravesite meticulously
• Rod Stewart was once a gravedigger at Highgate

All in all, it was an absolutely beautiful place, and it didn't have any of the spookiness that you would associate with a cemetery at all. It just felt terribly serene and peaceful. I'll definitely be coming back for another visit, and I'll post some pictures I took once I get the film developed. In the meantime, here's some pics J took with a little handheld digital:

Carriageway through the Cemetery

Sleeping angel that was carved from a solid block of marble for a man's dead wife. Today's cost? 500,000 pounds.

For a daughter that died of typhoid - Carving in the Beer Mausoleum

 Oh, and if you do go, cut through Waterlow Park, which is an absolutely beautiful park next door that's a bit more overgrown than the manicured Regent Park, but that's what makes it so beautiful.

If You're In Need of Christmas Decorations...

Get thee to Liberty on Regent Street asap. It's like Christmas exploded its guts all over the fourth floor.

 As for me, I'm going to wait until the glittery mule goes on sale and scoop it up.

Scenes from Regent Park

It's took me a while to get the pictures developed, but I took out my trusty Nikon film camera out to Regent Park a few weeks ago. We live right by the park, and I keep meaning to go for a jog there, but the awfully cold weather is keeping me in. I know, excuses excuses...

 

There's also a beautiful rose garden in the Inner Circle, and there are at least fifty different varieties of roses. I guess where there are roses, there must be brides because there's been a wedding party taking pictures there every single time I've visited. I even once witnessed a bridal showdown where both of the brides wanted to do a photoshoot by the statue of some merman and his dolphins. Lesson learned: Don't piss off a chick in a tiara.

 

 

 

 

The Last of the Lot

We've got the steepest, windingest staircase ever leading up to our flat so we kind of expect people to be huffing and puffing by the time they reach our front door, and not in a blow-down-your-house kind of way. We managed to get most everything up the stairs when we moved in, but it wasn't a surprise when it turned out that our American sofa wouldn't fit, and we had to have it popped in through our window. Yup, just pop it in. Sounds easy, don't it? But it's not. Not at all. And I found out how not easy it is today when our sofa was finally delivered after living in a storage unit for the last two months.

First, the moving company had to arrange for parking with the council to make sure they had the proper parking spot. Then, they had to position a lift going up to our flat window, which is several stories up. I was so scared that the the sofa would end up not fitting through the window that I measured the windows four times and triple checked the dimensions of the sofa. How horrible would it be if the sofa went up the lift, but wouldn't fit through the window? The handyman then had to pop our windows out of their frame and hold them while three burly men hefted the sofa off the lift and into our flat. Then the handyman reassembled our windows and ran off with a promise to come back and make the window sashes look perfect again.

Cranking the lift up to our window...

Ahh! We're being attacked by giant ladders!

Suffice to say, the lift attracted some notice...

I nearly hurled just watching the handyman taking apart our centuries old window so I hid out in the bedroom during the whole thing, and J went into the office late to oversee the process since it's probably bad form to throw up on your movers. Everything turned out fine in the end, but the entire process was nerve-wracking, and I can't believe we're going to have to do it again when we move out. Gulp.

What's On the Telly

Some observations on being a couch-potato abroad...


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Reruns:

Although we don't have a phone or internet, we do have Sky TV, which means we get to watch our favorite episodes of Friends. Over and over again. I don't know what the obsession is, but the damn show is on all the time.

I get the feeling that the Brits don't like to miss their favorite shows. Which explains all the reruns, and the fact that a bunch of channels has a back up channel. I do not joke. The other channel shows the exact same lineup, except with an hour delay so you can't miss a thing, even if you wanted to. So there's E4 and E4+, Home and Health and Home and Health + and so on and so forth.

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Animal rescue commercials:

I'm sure everyone's seen the ASPCA or WWF ads that are on back in the States. There's all those sad cats and dogs with their huge pitiful eyes with the mournful Sarah MacLachlan songs playing in the background. Those are so hard to watch, I find myself almost breaking an arm scrambling for the remote control to change the channel.

The Brits have a different approach. First, they want to rescue much more than just cats and dogs. I've seen appeals for cats, dogs, polar bears, mules, jaguars, and tigers. I'm sure I've missed a few animals along the way. Something else that's different is that all the animals talk. Well, they're all voiced by British actors. As sympathetic as I am to seeing animals in distress, it's just weird and disconcerting to hear a rescue cat speak in the voice of a middle-aged man with a British accent.

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Adverts in general:

As annoying as the commercials back in the States can be, I only truly understood the true misery a minute and a half can bring after moving here. There are all sorts of annoying jingles being sung by an overweight Jeeves look-a-like in a pyramid, a bicycling pigeon shilling for phone cards, an older woman with the most annoying laugh ever and some teeth that really do require the attention of an experienced dentist promoting online bingo. Thank goodness for the mute button.

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X-Factor:

It's huge. It's a lot like American Idol with a few key differences. There is no age limit, and there are four different categories of acts: male, female, groups, and over 28. Each group is mentored by a judge, who selects their songs and guides them through the whole competition. I think pretty much everyone in the UK must be familiar with the competition somehow just because the show is everywhere - TV, magazines, news. I have to confess, James and I are addicted. And if you watch, who the hell is voting for Wagner?

It's Beginning to Look A Lot Like Christmas

Except it's not. Not even close, in spite of the fact that temperatures have dropped to a chilly 10-12 degrees (Celsius, thank goodness, it's not that cold yet). But that doesn't explain why there have been Christmas decorations everywhere for the last three weeks or so. If you walk down Oxford Street, there are giant ribbons and presents covered in fairy lights floating high above the streets. I can't go grocery shopping without walking past stacks of chocolate Santas and reindeer at the local grocery.

Back in the States, it's almost a given that you can't start spreading the holiday cheer until the day after Thanksgiving. And fie on those overeager neighbors who insist on putting out their inflatable reindeer before that time. So Thanksgiving is more important than just being an opportunity to roast an entire turkey and eat too much pie, it's the official jump off for Christmas/ Hanukkah/ Kwanzaa celebrations.

For obvious reasons, there is no Thanksgiving in the UK. I don't think they really understand the point of the holiday, and I've been told that they think it's an over-hyped rehearsal for a real holiday, Christmas dinner. Obviously, they've underestimated the importance of Thanksgiving. Without any clear start to the holiday season, they've jumped the gun, and we all know what happened to the hare - it pooped out early in the race.  The holiday season is a marathon, not a sprint, what with all the present-buying, gingerbread-making, and tree-decorating that happens.

I love Christmas, probably more than the next guy, but I think I have some serious competition for who loves Christmas more.  I've come across more than a few year-round Christmas shops in the UK, and I've heard the celebrating here is something fierce.

I'm excited - I just hope I can keep it up for another two months...

Goodbye Edinburgh

I hardly knew ye. Actually, I feel like I got a pretty good taste of the city for the amount of time I was there. Since the last two days were focused on Old Town, we decided to concentrate our efforts on Princes Street, New Town, and possibly Calton Hill. Thankfully, we had more than enough time to pretty much traipse all over.

Mom would be proud.

But first, I had to do a redo of spitting on the Heart of Midlothian. Yes, spit. It's a heart set in cobblestone on the site of the Tolbooth prison, and you're supposed to spit on it to ward off evil. And who doesn't need to ward off evil? J wouldn't spit on it at first - I don't think he believed my story about the evil fighting and thought that I was tricking him into spitting on a landmark. But right after I made him at least pretend to spit, a local streetworker came over and gave the stone a good hock. And then J felt okay with actually spitting on the cobblestones. I guess he finally believed me.

First off, we decided to head over to Always Sunday, a cute café on the Royal Mile, for a full Scottish breakfast, and to answer that unanswerable question - haggis or black pudding? Yet again, we encountered more shenanigans on the Royal Mile. We came across a strange obstacle course along the main road with bales of hay and people diving into giant inflated barriers with gusto and emerging with smiles all around. Definitely interesting to watch with your morning black pudding.

I swear I've seen this before on American Gladiator...

Wheeee!!!

Random bales of hay. Sure, that's not weird.

We then walked along Princes Street and checked out the Gardens and The National Gallery of Scotland, which had the Impressionists on exhibit. We took a quick gander around the gallery and wandered back to the gardens to admire the most excellent views of Edinburgh Castle. We also walked by the Scott monument, and it really does look like a gothic space ship. It is kind of amazing that this kind of monument would be made for an author. Think Danielle Steele has enough money to put something like this up in her 'hood in San Francisco?

I managed to convince J into walking New Town with me (or should I say I wandered there and J had no choice other than to follow me since I had the map), and it wasn’t as great as I expected. There are some great views of Firth of Forth just looking down the street, but nothing in particular to really marvel at. We passed by St. Andrew’s Square and Jenners, the veritable Scottish department store, but we didn’t really want to shop so we kept on going.

Even though it was a pretty cold day, we were game to trek up Calton Hill and check out the monuments up close. On the way, we popped into Calton Cemetery, which houses the bones of David Hume and some other not so famous people. It was very a propos with the gloom and doom weather we were having, and J made his peace with my fascination with cemeteries.

We finally made it up the Hill and checked out the various monuments and observatory, including Nelson’s Monument. Nelson’s this famous sailor that’s also got the monument in Trafalgar Square back in London, but I’m told that he’s much more important in English history than in Scottish history. Anyway, the dude’s got two more monuments than me, so he’s the clear winner here. The views are insane up there and rival those of the Castle, except it’s completely free. The place was pretty deserted since it was so windy out, and we wandered around while trying to avoid getting blown away.

The Fife and the Firth of Forth behind me. Seriously.

Arthur's Seat to the left. Dude had a giant butt. I mean Arthur, not J.

By the time we finished, I was completely frozen and J was pretty tired so we headed back to the hotel for some R&R. The hotel has this fabulous drawing room, and we cozied up on our armchairs with coffee and biscuits and some books we bought earlier from the Waterstone’s across the street until it was time to head to the train station to go home.

All in all, this was probably one of the best weekends I’ve ever had, and I fell completely in love with Edinburgh. The city is impressive and incredibly beautiful in a bleak sort of way. I hope we could come back one day and maybe see a highland coo. J is still determined to see a leprechaun even though I’ve told him time and again that they don’t exist.

I Heart Edinburgh, Part II - More Pics Added

The day started with breakfast at the hotel restaurant and then we headed out straight to Edinburgh Castle. But then a funny thing happened on the way out. We noticed a room on our floor that had a plaque reading “The JK Rowling Suite.” The story is that J.K. Rowling wrote the first Harry Potter novel in cafes all around Edinburgh as a single mother on benefits. She wrote the final one under vastly different circumstances, specifically, in a suite at the Balmoral Hotel. She purportedly celebrated by graffitting “J.K. Rowling wrote the seventh and final novel of the Harry Potter series in this room” on the walls of the suite. It appears that we found the room, and I wonder if we can get a glimpse into the room before we leave?

Some things we saw along the Royal Mile:

High Kirk of St. Giles.

Some Roman dude on a horse.

Heart of Midlothian.

Another weird thing happened on the way to the Castle. We saw people randomly gathering on the pavement alongside the Royal Mile west of the North/South Bridge, and the street was closed to traffic. We asked a local policeman what was going on, and he informed us that they were welcoming back soldiers from Afghanistan. We hung around waiting for the parade, and it was well worth it. Everyone started clapping to the music as the honor guard marched past, and the crowd burst into cheers when the soldiers went by. It was really great to see everyone supporting the soldiers, and the authentic bagpipe music was really cool.

Cutest mascot ever.

Honor Guard.

Honor Guard musicians.

Soldiers returning home.

We finally got to the Castle, and it was every bit as amazing as the guidebooks said it would be. It’s all inclines and declines everywhere, the ground is cobbled, and there’s a special path everywhere meant for horses carrying provisions. I saw some girls wearing stiletto heels on the Royal Mile, and I prayed for their sakes that they weren’t headed to the Castle. The Castle itself is a combination of well-formed stones and craggy rocks. The views were beyond amazing, and you could see all the way to the Firth of Forth. It’s the kind of place you just have to visit to do it justice.

The Castle Gate.

View of the Castle from the Gardens.

View from the Castle.

Sculpture of a baby clinging onto a soldier.

Yep, I think we're just about ready to fire

Can I live here?

After roaming about for 3 hours or so, we finally left, but we made sure to stop by the Scotch Whisky Heritage Center where J picked up a couple of small bottle of scotches. Lush. We then headed to Victoria Street where J was excited to visit Iain Mellis Cheesemonger. And they let you sample whatever you want! J settled on a hunk of aged Gouda.

Victoria Street as seen from the Terrace.

Iain Mellis, Cheesemonger.

We made a quick foray down Cockburn Street. The schoolgirl in me is still giggling. It’s a little seedy looking, and I saw a store named “Whiplash Trash.” Gotta love it. J noticed that there were potato shops everywhere, and the smell was delicious even if a bit incongruous. Then it got even better when we hit up Fleshmarket Close. What kind of perv named these streets?

J didn't want to walk down this street for some reason.

No objection to this one though. Strange.

 J finally tired out, and we headed back to the hotel to figure out our dinner plans. Be forewarned, make your dinner bookings well in advance. We had walked into the Witchery by the Castle earlier in the day, and the only slot open was a seating at 11pm. We had our hotel concierge check everywhere, and there were no bookings to be had. I think J was pretty happy about it since we got to change into lounging clothes and order room service. We both ate too much steak and fries, and now we’re fat and happy watching X Factor. All in all, a great Saturday.

I Heart Edinburgh, Part I - With More Pics

After we said goodbye to our new friends at Edinburgh Waverly station, we made the very short walk to where we’re staying at the Balmoral Hotel. It’s a landmark hotel, and here’s an amusing little fact about the place: it has a clock tower that’s kept two minutes fast to encourage its guests to be on time to catch their train. Isn’t that considerate?

Home sweet punctual home. For two days anyway.

We checked in very quickly, and everyone was very nice and courteous. And I’m not just saying that because we got upgraded to an executive suite without even asking. The room is huge with high ceilings so it feels even bigger, and we were welcomed with French peaches and a nice welcome note.

Is X Factor on yet?

After dropping off our things, we decided to head east to Holyroodhouse Palace. Initial first impression of Edinburgh: it’s much more dramatic than London. There are views of the mountains with all these crags, and Old Town isn’t flat, which makes for some amazing scenes just looking down the street. All the streets are still cobbled. There are a lot fewer people here than in London, and the general air is just a lot less hurried. Is it bad if I say that I love it more than London? It’s definitely got an air of history tinged with a bit of melancholy.

Our first sunset in Edinburgh.

Looking East down Royal Mile.

A Close off the Royal Mile. Narrow and steep.

On our way to Holyroodhouse, we passed by John Knox’s House and this really breathtaking cemetery. J was a bit leery of hanging out in a cemetery, the big chicken, but it’s incredibly old and amazingly beautiful. Even though it’s smack dab in the middle of the city, it had this really peaceful air about it. We also passed by Scottish Parliament, a building that was supposed to cost 40 mil, but ended up a 500 mil fiasco. The building is weird and different and kind of cool. J says it’s freaking funky. I guess it’s Edinburgh’s version of the Gherkin.

We finally made it to Holyroodhouse, and it was around 20 pounds for the two of us. It’s pretty cheap if you compare it to London’s sightseeing prices, and even better since it included a free audio tour. They allow photography outside of the palace, but it’s a no-no once you’re indoors.

I was in awe while in the chambers of Mary, Queen of Scots. I’ve read so much about her that she’s almost become a fictional character to me, and it was surreal standing in the rooms where she lived. The interior was pretty interesting, but it was the Abbey that truly impressed. It’s in ruins, and we got to really appreciate the place since it was practically deserted. There’s this feeling of peace and solitude that you can’t really get in most tourist spots since you’re jostling for space with the other tourists. I can’t emphasize enough how much being there with so few people changed the feel of the place. And it made it that much easier to get some pictures in.

 

 

We ended the visit with a stroll around the well-manicured garden, and we exited to the gift shop where we bought a Christmas ornament in the shape of a bear wearing the regalia of a Scottish guard. Its something that J and I like to do – buy Christmas ornaments from the different places that we visit. I love Christmas and traveling, so it’s the perfect match. At the end of the day today, I would say I really, really love Edinburgh. I hope I feel the same after tomorrow.

Coming to a Christmas near you...