Riley May Need a Good Immigration Attorney

I got a message from the Vet telling me that Riley is in need of a rabies vaccination, AND if she doesn't get it by some date (I couldn't understand the guy when he said what date exactly) she will not qualify under the passport scheme that allowed her into the UK. Does that mean if she doesn't get a rabies vaccine she could get deported? How awful would that be? Therefore, I am going to search for a good canine immigration attorney, just in case we need someone to sort this out. Since I'm not qualified to practice in the UK, I figure I shouldn't take the case myself. But if anyone has a recommendation, please pass it on. Hopefully in two months I won't be writing about visiting my poor doggie in a detention center (or centre). Or having to put her on the next flight to the US. And I definitely don't think Riley would do well in shackles. Not her style.

In other Riley news, while on our morning constitutional in the 'hood, some construction looking man made some noises at her when we passed (to get her attention), then said something to me. I had NO idea what he said, so I said, naturally, "what?" And then he repeated himself. Still nothing. So I leaned forward and then he said for the third time, "does he bite?" And yes, he said "he," not SHE. He obviously wasn't picking up on Riley's extremely strong feminine vibe. So I laughed, because of course Riley does not bite, and then I told him so. He then replied something along the lines of "well he's just funny looking then." Again with the "he," sheesh. But seriously, funny looking? I don't think he said exactly what I quoted above but I do know that "funny" and "looking" were next to each other in the sentence. Either way, "looking funny" or "funny looking" are not complimentary towards Riley. So her new haircut may be a bit short, to say the least, but she's still not funny looking. Rat-like, yes. Hairless dog-like, ok. But funny looking I will not accept. So we walked on, away from that mean man. Hopefully Riley didn't hear his comment, or the fact he referred to her as a "he."

Does this look like a dog that bites? OK, maybe, since she appears to be giving the stink eye, but really the camera flash makes her squint.

Is this better? SHE doesn't look lite a biter.

At Least It's Not Delivered on Horseback

One of the things I like best about our new apartment is that I can sit at the kitchen counter, eating my Golden Grahams, or surfing the interwebs, and watch the 'hood. I have become the nosy neighbor that is always peeking out the window anytime a car door closes or people walk by. Yes, I am an 85 year old in a 30-something's body. But I find this pastime quite helpful, as I learn about the many quirks that come with living in London.

For instance, do you know that our mail is delivered in a black cab? No? Well I do. One day I saw a black cab pull up and out stepped a guy in a Royal Mail vest, and he proceeded to walk around the area delivering mail. I now see the black mail cab (as in a cab used to deliver mail, not a cab used in blackmailing people, although that would be kind of awesome too) most days, or at least those days I am able to spy, so it wasn't an anomaly. Need proof?

See? There's the back cab, and the guy in his Royal Mail vest. Pretty fancy.

The other curious thing, both in our neighborhood and in other areas of London, is that horses freely move about the streets. In our old apartment I used to hear the clomping of hooves early in the morning, as I was trying to force myself to get up. Then finally one morning I saw a group of about 14-18 riders coming down Fulham Road, a rather busy street. We moved, and lo and behold, I hear the same clomping, although not as regularly as I did at our old place. But, about 2 weeks ago I was walking Riley about 7:30 in the morning and we saw another group of about 14-18 riders, this time coming down Sloane Street, also a busy road. Riley was so fascinated and insisted on stopping and sitting and watching the horses go by. She refused to move until they passed us. Her piggy nose was fully engaged the entire time, as I'm sure horses are aromatic to say the least. I have no idea if these are the same riders as the Fulham Road crew, perhaps they ride around the area in the mornings, after all our new and old apartments are only about 1 mile away. Need proof?

Sorry, bad picture. I took it with my blackberry while simultaneously trying to get Riley to finally move.

So not only do I see rather huge groups of horses making their way through the streets of London, a city of almost 8 million people, but I also see horse-drawn carriages. Need proof?

This picture was taken from our living room window, while I was either eating cereal or surfing the interwebs, not sure which. So while groups of 14+ horses may not ride down our narrow street (although I did hear an enormous amount of clomping early yesterday morning, I was just too darn lazy to get out of bed to investigate), as you can see horse drawn carriages are normal modes of transport in the 'hood. I've actually seen this carriage, or a similar one a few times while out and about.

I always find it rather quaint to see horses making their way through London. I would never expect to see such a thing in San Francisco. Maybe if you're in Golden Gate Park or the Presidio you may come across someone riding a horse, and even then I feel like you'd be prone to say "oh wow, someone's riding a horse in San Francisco," but not down your street, where you live. I can't begin to imagine a group of horses casually walking down Chestnut Street in San Francisco. I think such an event would make the papers, it would seem so unique and out of place. But in London? Booorrrring. It just shows up on blogs.

I'm Starting a List

Things That Never Fail to Amaze Me

This brilliant idea came to me while I was on the bus yesterday, returning home from Westfield (the mall, to those who aren't familiar). While passing Harrods I saw a guy taking a picture in front of the Harrods sign and voila! In my head I immediately started a list of things that never fail to amaze me. I assume that I will constantly need to update said list, but for now I am putting down the 4 things I witnessed while on the bus, in the span of about 15 minutes.

1. The fact that people always take pictures outside Harrods, in front of the Harrods sign. The guy I saw had his thumb cocked to the side, like "hey, here's me, the sign and the store." Genius. I can think of very few equivalents in the states, Tiffany & Co being one, especially the NY store. While visiting NY, twice in 3 months, we walked past Tiffany on 5th Ave and always saw people taking pictures out front, in fact I think we probably walked through a couple and were caught on camera. So perhaps I should add "the fact that people always take pictures outside Tiffany NY" to my list. But this is primarily a London list, so a NY reference has no place on it. But seriously, what do these people do with their Harrods sign pictures once they get home? Do they show them to their friends? Add them to Facebook (probably), put them on the wall? I guess they could have an album of store signs, as people also seem to like taking pictures in front of Louis Vuitton, Gucci, Prada etc. So maybe I should amend this entry entirely and just say "the fact that people take pictures in front of stores, PERIOD."

2. In a similar vein, the fact that people always take pictures of themselves peeking out of the red phone booths. We saw at least 3 people doing this last weekend. And you know what? They all look like idiots, and will probably regret taking such a douchey picture once they get home. I would.

3. The fact that people always decide that sitting on the bus (in the case yesterday) or the tube is the BEST time to cut their nails. I cannot stand this. It really grosses me out to hear the click-click of the clippers and know that little nail bits are flying around. I get really paranoid that one nail bit is going to land in my hair and I won't discover it until much later. Ick. Really, save it for home.

4. The fact that women think that black tights, no matter their thickness, are totally appropriate substitutes for pants. This is probably a common concern for people with even a modicum of style (or Americans) who live in England, as tights-as-pants runs rampant here. If you can see the outline, or worse, the color and pattern of your underwear then put some pants on. Simple as that. And real ones, you know, the type made out of actual MATERIAL (i.e. denim, cotton, even polyester will do), with zippers, and buttons and maybe pockets and cuffs. I swear, if Dave and/or I point out one more woman wearing see through black tights while out and about in public I will...I don't know what I will do actually as it will probably happen TOMORROW. And isn't it funny that most of them happen to wear cropped or short t-shirts too, so everything is extra visible? What a coin-ki-dink.

I think that's it for now. Those are the 4 things that amazed me while I was riding through Knightsbridge. And remember, I did all that thinking in the span of about 15 minutes. It was a busy day for me.

I'm Glad I Didn't Get An Invite

I just read that the wedding cake for the big royal wedding will be fruitcake. Brandy soaked fruitcake. How gross is that? Who picks fruitcake as their wedding cake? The chosen baker has already started baking because fruitcake needs 4 weeks to "mature." So not only are the guests getting fruitcake, they're getting 4 week old fruitcake.

Today Is a Nice Day for a Protest

There are big protests going on in London right now. I think it was supposed to be one big protest, but now there are splinter protesters throwing paint on stores and hotels. Because of course throwing paint on buildings will accomplish SO much. I really agree that making Topshop and the Ritz look paint splattered will definitely cause the government to rethink these budget cuts. Yep, that'll do it.

Dave and I walked home from SOHO/Leicester Square, and luckily we made it just in time, because the renegade protesters went after banks in the area not too long after we left. We walked alongside the protesters as they made their way from Westminster to Hyde Park. Here are a few pictures I took along the way.

Some people got dressed up for the protest like the dapper chap in his rolled-up formal shorts and military chic blazer.

This woman went a little gangster, and wore her hat off to the side.

People gathering in Hyde Park.

Not the best pictures, but it's a little taste of what's going on today. We have to take Riley out soon, maybe we'll bring some paint with us and throw it on some stores.

Someone Got Her Hair Did

Preface - I wrote this post before Riley went to the salon. After picking her up I thought maybe I should rewrite this post in its entirety, but decided against it. Instead, any thoughts and comments that came to me after her "haircut" are in italics. 

Yesterday Riley got a HAIRCUT! Something she desperately needed for about 3 months now. But we didn't want our poor doggie to suffer in the cold, so we left her untamed and matted and finally got around to spiffing her up. And here she is! Mad as all hell, but pretty! And shaved. Her fur is gone. All gone. She's still my poor puppy but now for different reasons.

Now that's she fur-free she won't be leaving any obnoxious fur balls around, as she is prone to do when she's messy. Like this one:

That thing was so big it was blowing in the wind as I took the picture.

Side note - The other night I was watching Hoarders (Best. Show. Ever. I tell Dave he should ENCOURAGE me to watch it, as I always feel compelled to clean and throw stuff away as soon as it's over, if not during. That's not to say I actually do clean, but it's the thought that counts, right?) Anyhoo, the hoarder guy saved his dog's fur! How nasty is that? It was all over the carpet and stairs. So gross. So I told Dave he is sooooo lucky to have me. At least I throw fur balls away. I may take a picture of one first, but then I throw them away. No sense in keeping any, she'll just drop some more in a few days. But now with a short "spring/summer" cut she'll be fur ball free for a few months. Heaven! I think she'll be fur ball free for at least 6 months. That's how long it will take for ANY fur to grow back. Poor puppy.

Let's see some before and after shots shall we?

Before - stumpy legs

After - sleek chicken legs

Before - pom pom tail

After - stumpy sausage tail

Before - looong lady beard

After - Riley, the chinless wonder dog!

See how pretty she looks? And so soft, too! OK, she may not be conventionally pretty or cute, but at least she's not all raggedy and scruffy looking. We think people are staring at her when we're out and about. They probably think we're desperately allergic to dogs and have a hairless one. 

She may have lost a LOT of fur but she didn't lose her attitude. In fact, she is currently punishing us by whining all day. In this picture she is waiting, rather impatiently as evidenced by the evil eyes she is shooting in my direction, for her food. 

This experience has taught us that we need to brush her more. And maybe find a new dog groomer. We're also worried her dog walker may show up on Tuesday and refuse to take her out. What if the other dogs turn on her and start bullying her? That would be really sad. Poor puppy.

Friday Funday - Riley Attackes Her Poor, Defenseless Toys

Another Friday Funday video! We took this a few weeks ago when Riley was in a particularly aggressive mood. Every so often she decides that her toys need a good butt kicking so she just goes at it. We're not sure why, but we don't want to get in her way for fear she'll turn on us, so we just watch and laugh. Especially when she steps on a squeaker toy and scares herself. Silly doggy.

P.S. - I love that she has no traction on the wooden floors and just slips around. We need to get her some footie pajamas, you know, the ones with the rubber soles, and then she'll be set.

P.P.S. - Her reward for throwing her weight around is to chew her stick for a while. After all, nothing makes a furry dog tougher than throwing around toys shaped like stuffed pumpkins and sock monkeys, then chewing on a tendon.

Thursday Travels - Geneva

Ah, Geneva. The land of cheese, a terrible exchange rate, exorbitant prices and Sunday closings. I like me some cheese, and even more so some fondue. But I don't like me an 8 USD hot chocolate. Or a $60 lunch consisting of 2 pizzas and 2 diet cokes.

Geneva was our second trip, we went in November of 2009. The weather wasn't great, we had a bit of rain and cooler temps, but at least it was a mellow trip. We just wandered, and ate (of course) and also took the train around the lake to Montreux (the scene of the overpriced pizza). The scenery was gorgeous, as the leaves and grapevines around the lake had turned color. And it's hard not to be impressed by the big ole mountains in the area.  

Some Geneva pictures:

Oh, those Swiss with their Swiss flags and Swiss Army Knives. Everywhere.

My kind of train. Why can't every train be a "Train du Chocolat?" How much fun would it be to commute on a gold chocolate themed train? Fattening too!

Now that is one butt ugly building. How on earth did that thing get approved? And it's so tall. And skinny. And did I mention ugly?

You know Dave and I did the 7 hour Chatel-St. Denis walk. And you know us even better if you said, "no way in hell did you do the 7 hour Chatel-St. Denis walk." 

That's it for the Geneva pictures. On to:

The Deets - 

We stayed at the Hotel Kipling. It was fine, I would recommend it, the room was perfectly nice and it was a decent price for such an expensive city. Easy location, walkable, close to the train station which was convenient as we took the train to/from the airport. When I researched Geneva hotels I remember reading that the hotel was close to the "red light district." I don't know about you, but Geneva's red light district is not high up on my list of "Areas to Avoid, Europe." Seriously, would you consider Geneva's red light district to be a hotbed of depravity and immorality? I don't and we never noticed any unsavory characters or behavior while we were there. Maybe we weren't the target audience though. Too bad. 

We ate at Cafe du Soleil where we got our fondue on. I know, me and my cheese. It was pretty good and I would definitely go back, but again, I love cheese. I probably wouldn't recommend the pizza place in Montreux, which is good as I don't remember the name, but mainly because of the prices. The horror! 

Et voila! The end of our Geneva adventure. Oh, one last detail. We flew Air Baboo, which was AWESOME. They give you snacks, like soup and mini tiramisu. BUT, and it's a big but for me, it was a prop plane, something I didn't tell my mom about until we got back to London. I HATE prop planes. I refuse to fly on them unless absolutely necessary, and since we HAD to go to Geneva then I had to fly on a prop. I brought my big ole Bose headphones to drown out the noise, but it was a newer prop plane and surprisingly quiet. So Dave's hand was spared from my squeezing, and the other passengers' ears were spared from my screaming. Lucky them!

Scenes From a Sunny Day - Update

Last night when Dave came home Riley didn't come downstairs to greet him, which obviously pissed him off a bit. When he went upstairs to the bedroom he found her...asleep...legs askew...all her bits on display for us to see. I must have worn her out on our almost 2-hour walk to Battersea Park. She's getting lazy in her ripe old age of 4. That sleeping position is one of her favorites, in fact she was just in that position about 10 minutes ago (and yes, she was on the couch Dave), but it's still disgusting nonetheless. Not to mention quite unladylike.

Scenes From a Sunny Day

We had the best weather today! It must have been about 64-65 degrees, definitely the warmest day we have had since...September? October? I went out with just a sweatshirt, NO jacket, I wore SUNGLASSES and I got an ICED coffee. It felt like summer. The last time I went out without a jacket was in Lisbon, way back in October. True story. Every day since then I have worn a jacket, although I have gradually started downgrading from my huge down parka, and am now wearing a light jacket most days (along with a sweater, so don't think I'm exaggerating that today was the best weather in months and months and months). I took Riley to Battersea Park and she enjoyed being out in the sun, smelling things, and trying to drink the pond water. She was patient enough to let me sit and read for all of 20 minutes, then she decided she had had enough and wanted to walk some more. Riley may be cute but she certainly ain't patient!

I also walked through Green Park and Hyde Park on my way home from Piccadilly. Both parks were packed with people out enjoying the rare combination of sunshine and warm weather. Overall it was a day to remind you how amazing this city is when the weather is nice, and people are happy and able to enjoy it!

The sun, as seen through the trees in Green Park

People enjoying the Rose Garden in Hyde Park. Both pictures were taken with my blackberry, so not the best. Sorry!

Daffies on the edge of Hyde Park

Blossoms in our 'hood

Now on to Battersea:

Thirsty doggie!

Happy doggie!

I hope we have more days like this to come, especially since Dave didn't get a chance to enjoy it. But I'm not going to hold my breath or anything.

The Dental Saga Continues...

I started worrying that I gave a very negative impression of my dental experience yesterday, so I thought I’d reassure my reader(s) that my teeth are fine, and my dentist is probably more legit than I first assumed. I went back today to pick up my night guard (more on that later!) and while I was there the dental man gave me an exam. And it was very similar to an exam my California dentist would give. Dentist dude threw out terms such as composite, bitewing, and occlusal, along with some random numbers for good measure. And I had x-rays taken. I did NOT think we would have time for x-rays given it was a 15-minute appointment, but I was wrong. At my American dentist x-rays are a longer process. After being seated in the exam room and asked some questions, I then have to walk down the long hallway to the x-ray room, where a heavy lead apron is thrown on me, making me slide off the chair. Then the x-ray has to be positioned and the hygienist has to leave the room, press the button, take the x-ray, come back, lather, rinse and repeat. Then I have to walk back dooooown the hall to the exam room. At dentist guy’s office the x-ray machine is IN the room. I didn’t have to move a muscle. Well, I did have to turn my head to the left, but I can handle that. So x-rays took all of about 90 seconds, and he even pretended to give the developed x-rays a look later, so I felt better. He did mention that I could see a hygienist for a cleaning, again something totally removed from a "normal" English checkup, and that once a year cleaning is ok, but he then mumbled that if I felt so inclined I could go every 6 months. Um, does Riley pig out on liver treats? Does Dave like vanilla Cornettos? Of course I prefer to have my teeth cleaned every 6 months. That’s what we do! (Oy, I sound like the bratty American girl we encountered in Shanghai 6 years ago*) On my way out I made an appointment for a cleaning, and come April 14^th, I will have visited this dental mecca 3 times in 4 weeks. 

So on to my night guard. Dig what I walked out with:

How awesome is that? I now have a plaster mold of my UPPER TEETH! Admit it, you’re jealous. I knew it! Can you imagine the possibilities? I have. I have sooo many ideas for how to use this golden mold. While I was folding laundry (you’re welcome, Dave) I was doing some serious thinking and even more clever uses came to me. But I’ll just list a few here:

       1. Halloween! Oh yeah. Not like we have gotten trick-or-treaters in the past, but hopefully this year we will. Imagine, some kid comes to the door expecting Smarties or a biscuit, only to put his pudgy hand into a bowl of candy to pull out…my teeth!

       2. I think I might make a few extra molds with some plaster of paris and then roll them in gravy and let Riley chew them. Then when we have people over I can casually ask, “what does Riley have in her mouth?” And our guest can go investigate and will see Riley chewing…my teeth!

       3. I also think it’ll be funny to just leave them sitting on Dave’s pillow. Or even better, I’ll put them under the sheets and then he’ll put his legs under the covers and his feet will hit…my teeth!

       4. On a serious note, imagine how handy they will be if I ever get accused of biting someone. I don’t bite. I may pull hair, but I won’t bite. The germs…ick. So if I get falsely accused I can run home, grab my teeth and prove the bite marks don’t match. Easy as pie.

       5. I may also get crafty with them and paint them pink and add some rhinestones or something. You know, make ‘em classy.

I don’t want to give away all my potential teeth tricks so I’ll just stop there. But I know you’re even more jealous than before. I don’t blame you.

* Contact me if you want to hear that story, it's pretty entertaining. 

OK, I Admit It, I Did a Bad Thing

If you were to take a random poll of average Americans, the two things they would tell you NOT to do in England would be to not eat the food (an outdated stereotype, I assure you) and to not go to the dentist. Well, I can attest that I have been eating the food here for 20 months, and so far have not faced any dire consequences. My sense of taste is not limited to fried foods and mushy peas, I still recognize that Mexican food, if made properly, CAN be good, I still do not eat Marmite, and I now know there is more to London food than pies and pasties. Today I broke the second cardinal rule. I went to the dentist. I know.

I haven’t been to the dentist since my last trip home, in Feb/March of 2010. I was hoping to fit in a visit this time (we go home in 2 weeks) but with our schedule the dentist fell to the bottom of my “must do in SF list.” (The list is almost solely devoted to food, so you can tell my priorities. Healthy teeth? Let me eat first then I’ll worry about my teeth falling out) So I went to the dentist here to get things checked out, and to find out what can be done about my newly sore jaw, which I attribute to my teeth grinding. I made an appointment at a dental practice recommended online, and which is conveniently located about 2 blocks from our apartment. I figured if it was terrible I would only have a short distance to run home, screaming. Less embarrassing for sure. 

I show up, and the office is, to use a British term, quite posh. Nice waiting room, nice receptionists, good magazine selection (Vanity Fair for example. Sweet). I was eventually called into the examining room, and it too was quite modern. I suppose part of me was expecting a chair out of the 18^th century, rusty tools, a dentist missing his own teeth. But no, it was clean, and had a nifty waterspout that fills a cup with rinse water right up to the brim, at the press of a button.  Overall it was acceptable to my discerning, American teeth eyes. So then the fun began.

I explained my problem to the dentist and he tells me I need a new night guard and that he will take an impression of my teeth in order to have one made. I hate impressions. That nasty stuff they use is just awful; I think we can all agree on that. So OF COURSE the first one doesn’t work. I swear that is always the case. You do one impression and then dentist says, “oh no, I need to do another.” Then you hear that another 4 times. So he took another impression and then tried to get it out. And it was STUCK. I know that stuff creates quite the suction in your mouth, but normally they pop right out. Not this one. He starts wiggling it, and pulling and I swear I thought he was going to PULL MY TEETH OUT. And then I would have to get British dentures. Could you even imagine? And making it worse a HUGE glob of the stuff was stuck to my tongue, way in the back. Luckily I could breathe out of my nose, but I still felt the blob blocking my throat and preventing me from swallowing and I though “this is it. I am going down with the impression glop and no teeth.” I was comforted by the fact Dave would have a good story to tell. 

            “So what happened to your wife?”

            “Well she was getting an impression of her teeth done, and it got stuck, and not only did it pull all of her top teeth out, but she either choked or suffocated on the impression goo. They’re not sure which, there was too much of it in her mouth to tell.”

Pretty cool, right?

Anyhoodle, it finally came out, my teeth were intact and the tongue obstruction was gone. So the dentist tells me it will be ready tomorrow, I have to come back, the pain could very well go away as quickly as it came, and bye! See you tomorrow. And that was it! WHAT ABOUT THE CLEANING? WHAT ABOUT X-RAYS? Call me silly, but in the US, we get our teeth cleaned when we go to the dentist. I’m not trying to say the US is better or any of that crap (but have you seen the teeth here, so maybe I am) but seriously, was that all? He did mention that maybe he would do x-rays tomorrow during my 15 minute fitting appointment (will they have time to do x-rays? I doubt it) but there was NO mention of a cleaning or anything of that sort. So it got me thinking. Do I have to REQUEST a cleaning? “Hello, I’d like to make a dentist appointment. One that includes a cleaning please. Oh, you don’t do that here? OK, bye.” So I go back tomorrow. I don’t think I will report back as thoroughly as I have today, so rest assured, you won’t be reading two long dentist reports. Boooorrriinnnggg.

So what have I learned? Well, apparently, cleanings aren’t included unless specifically requested. I also felt like the dentist told me exactly what I had read online about 15 minutes before I left home. This reassured me, in that I CAN trust things I read online. But made me worried too. What if this supposed dentist guy goes home at night, reads the interwebs about dental topics trying to brush up on his tooth knowledge, wakes up, put his white dental jacket back on and goes to work. I didn’t even see his plaque and how many initials he has after his name. In my opinion, the more random letters the better. I would like my dentist to be known as Dr. So-and-so, DDS, FICD, MAGD, FAGD. What if this guy wasn’t even a DDS (or whatever DDS’s are here)? So now I am a bit worried and that means I will grind the hell out of my teeth tonight only making the pain worse. Then I will go back tomorrow, collect my guard, and go happily on my way. And when I get home I’ll call and try to make an appointment to see my dentist in California while I am visiting next month.

You Call It Posh, I Call It My Personal Hell v.1.2

I went to Waitrose today, my local grocery store. And it was hell. I mean, I have never! The people in grocery stores are just so…rude. It’s like everyone walks in the door and they immediately lose both their intelligence and their manners. It didn’t help that the store was packed, as it was the lunch hour so people were picking up their triangle sandwiches and such. But degree of crowdedness really doesn’t matter. Empty, full, midway in between, it’s all the same. People block whole aisles with their carts, they don’t move when you say, “excuse me,” they stand in line for the cashier and manage to block whole sections of the store, not to mention the door. I had to park my cart and walk down the aisle to get avocados. Then I had to do it all over again, parking my cart in the frozen food section in order to go around the corner to get juice. All because people stand in line with absolutely no regard for anyone else. People walk around in groups, sloooowly, chatting, ignoring the fact someone may be behind them trying to get to the carrots. I ran over about 3 people’s feet, and you know what? I was happy to do it. That’s what happens when you just stand there blocking the space as I am trying to walk. And you think grocery stores are bad? You should see people in line for an ATM (or “hole in the wall” as it’s known here). They have no problem blocking an entire sidewalk, sometimes as much as 6-8 feet, because they stand in line straight out from the machine rather than waiting off to the side. I purposefully stand off to the side so as not to block the sidewalk and you should see the stares I get from the people using the machine. I want to tell them, “No, I am not trying to see your PIN, I am just being POLITE.” 

What is so funny about Waitrose is how it is seen as “posh.” I find that so ridiculous. Who calls a grocery store posh? I heard that shopping at Waitrose is one of the top indicators someone is posh. OK, then I am posh, sue me. But really? You classify your grocery stores as posh or not posh, and then find it insulting or intimidating to shop at a posh store? Aren’t there other things to worry about in this world? I recently read a column where the woman author discussed how she is soooo intimidated by shopping at Waitrose, it’s so posh, and she doesn’t feel like she belongs. Well you know where she belongs? In therapy. If she’s that worried about where she should do her shopping she may have a few things to discuss with a licensed therapist. I mean, come on! I would never walk into a grocery store in the US and say “oooh, this is soooo posh!” I might walk in and say, “what nice apples and peaches.” But never would I walk around mesmerized by the poshness all around me. Granted, some stores are MUCH nicer than others. I tend to shop at stores where soy sauce and orzo aren’t in the “exotic foods” aisle. Where you can buy 8 different types of apples and romaine lettuce as well as iceberg. But I don’t seek out the posh stores in the city where I live. I mean if quality = posh, then sign me up. I’ll be posh until the end. And just because I’m posh doesn’t mean I won’t run over some feet in the process.

P.S. - I'm not in a bad mood, I swear. I just have moments where I can be sure that if I am ever sent to the underworld I know EXACTLY what it will be like, and how they will choose to torture me. Today happened to be one of those moments. I have other versions too, which is why the Waitrose scenario is version 1.2. Maybe I'll get around to describing versions 1.3 - 2.9 some other day.

I am SO going to use this retort

I was on the bus Tuesday night, going home after my last Art Law class. I was sitting directly behind 2 older women and couldn't help but overhear their conversation. OK, I was eavesdropping, sue me. One woman was complaining about how her sister wakes up soooo early, and her sister always gives her a bit of grief for sleeping in, and why does she wake up so early? The friend said, "well, it's her choice, she can wake up early if she wants." They continued talking about how strange it was that the sister is up so early. I soon heard the first woman say the sister wakes up at 7(!) and why should she herself wake up early too, after all "it's not like I am going to farm or milk cows."

Well, I suppose if you think that waking up at 7am is only for people who farm or milk cows, then I agree, stay in bed until 8. But I found it funny that she equates the "early" hour of 7 with people who work with the land, not with say any OTHER profession. Like doctors, lawyers, traders (right, Dave?), waiters/waitresses, teachers, cashiers, bus drivers, tube drivers, students, maybe just generally HUMANS. Who thinks 7 is so early that only farmers are awake? Has she never been out of bed at 7am? In my experience, the world is awake at 7. I don't walk around the streets at 7am and only see farmers rushing by, pitchforks in hand. Or men in overalls carrying big buckets of milk. No, I see other people too, just going about their business. But I decided, from now on, if Dave ever gives me grief about sleeping in, say until 8, I am going to reply that I don't farm OR milk cows, so there is no point in me being awake at 7am. If it works for that woman, it may just work for me.

Thursday Travels - Seychelles

I am starting a new feature on "The Life of Riley," a look back at the trips we have taken since Riley and I moved to London. How exciting for my reader(s)!

First up - the Seychelles. We went to the Seychelles for our anniversary, and it was our first trip after my move to London. This meant that we had to find a place to board Riley, so Riley went on her first trip, to Wales. We haven't used the boarding facility since, so I am just going to leave it at that. Oh, but I will mention that when she came back, her progress report stated she needed to lose weight, amongst other (behavioral) issues. Rude!

Anyhoo, the Seychelles were amazing. We flew threw Qatar to get there, and I would not recommend spending too much time in the Doha airport. Although if memory serves, they are building a new airport, or perhaps have already finished it. We were fortunate enough to spend a combined...8? 10? hours in the airport, and I can say they were the least exciting hours of my life.

See how busy the airport was? See all the people? No? We asked about the logistics of leaving the airport and going into Doha for a few hours, but were asked in reply, "why?" The woman at the help desk was flummoxed as to why we would want to leave the airport and go sightseeing in Doha. She obviously wasn't the best ambassador for her fair city. I would have liked to have seen the city, and the new Islamic art museum, and tried to find a Coffee Bean (hello, the MOST important part - going to a Coffee Bean. Forget the art, I wanted an ice blended). But, no. DENIED. So we saw Doha from afar.

Yep, that's Doha. One of our layovers was overnight, and that was when the airport was jumping! Many flights land during the over night hours (due to the heat I am sure) and so the airport was full of people at 3am. Not so much at 2pm. When we landed in the middle of the night I think the temperature outside was something like 35 Celsius (about 95 F). Toasty! But on to the good stuff.

Oh, that beach! It was gorgeous, and empty, and had soft sand, and turquoise water. It was perfect! We had pretty good weather. A bit of wind, not much rain. It was hot, but not too hot. We spent a LOT of time under an umbrella on that beach. But, our room was so nice, it was hard to leave it, so we spent a lot of time there as well.

Each room has its own pool, so we had the chance to leave a lot of footprints going back and forth from our private pool to a lounge chair. And our room afforded a great view of the sunsets. I tried to take a picture of the sunset each night, and some were truly stunning.

We really didn't do too much, but we did go into the main town at my urging. Dave would have been happy to sit on the beach, and then sit some more, but I made him go. Seychelles is a very small country, the population is only about 86,000, so the capital, Victoria, is not very big. We walked around the market, I bought some vanilla beans grown on the islands, and we had lunch in what was described as pretty much the best restaurant in town. And it was...fine. Then we retreated back to our little part of the island and resumed our relaxation. Overall a great week, and a wonderful anniversary, AND a happy birthday for Dave. He turned 26. That's what he'd want me to say.

The Countdown Has Begun

It is officially 499 days until the London Olympics. I should have written this post yesterday as 500 sounds so much more exciting, but 499 it is. I missed the fireworks and hoopla as I was at my last Art Law class at Sotheby's Institute. But looking out the classroom windows I did manage to see the trees and buildings in the area light up with the color of the fireworks. I read they did a similar celebration when it was 1000 days until the Olympics but I missed that one also. Maybe I was indifferent because 1000 days seems so, so far away. I would imagine most people would lose interest in a 1000-day countdown around day 817. Eventually, you just get tired of counting 1000 days. But 500 seems...closer. First of all, duh, it is closer. Second, 500 days is less than 2 years away. 1000 days, although less than 3 years, is hard to compute. 365 + 365 and then some more...it's more than 2 years, less than 3, far away, who cares, math makes my head hurt.

For me, the countdown is significant as I always told people I would like to live in London at least through the Olympics, and then who knows. Now, with the Olympics 499 days away, they seem so close, yet so far away. Close, in that they start next summer, about 16 months from now. Far, in that they start in the middle of 2012, and it feels like 2011 just started. I'm not sure if Dave has ever liked my answer of living in London until the Olympics. When they start he will have lived here 4 years, I will have been here 3. Four years is a long time. It's "starting to feel permanent" long. It's "should we renew the visa/apply for permanent residency" long. It's "we have a whole new life here, and we are 3-4 years removed from our past life in San Francisco" long. I moved to London 21 months ago, and those 21 months flew by. I fully expect the next 16 months to fly by as well.

Part of me wants to stay in London and experience the Olympics only because I have put up with all the crap the city is doing to make the city Olympics-ready. All the tube shut-downs, street work, crossrail construction that have been wreaking havoc on the system should for the most part be finished by the Olympics. Not the crossrail though, that won't be done until 2034 I think. Since we live so far away from the Olympics site, I will have to enjoy the fruits of London's labor if I venture over to see the games. How fun it will be to ride on the tube without disruptions, stop at stations previously closed for over a year, ride down bus lanes that had been detoured. I'm only joking. I really don't expect the tube to be disruption free. Ever. If it's not a person under a train it's a faulty signal, and I don't expect the Olympics to cure those problems.

So we shall see where the next 16 months takes us. Maybe right to Stratford for the opening ceremony!

P.S. - when you type the word "Olympics" a lot, it starts to look really weird.

Picture from Metro.co.uk

Can You Imagine the Traffic Jam?

The other day I was walking Riley and we passed a school, not hard to do as it seems there are schools everywhere in this city. I noticed that all of the scooters were parked in front of the school, ready for the kids to ride them home when school is out. You see, scooters are the preferred mode of transport for any self-respecting London kid. They may be just as popular outside of London, but I have no idea as I never venture into the country. Kids ride their scooters everywhere here! Most of them have the 3-wheel variety, which I suppose makes the scooter a bit safer as it's slightly harder to tip over. And no one wears a helmet. I guess coming from the law suit happy United States I find it hard to believe helmets aren't more prevalent, as I picture one tumble on the sidewalk, a brain injury later, and bam! Lawsuit against the council for big bucks. But that's just me. I also don't think scooters are as popular in the States. I know the Razor trend hit hard a few years back, but I never saw kids commute on them, or ride them as much and as often as I do here.

Sometimes kids don't park their scooters at school so the parents or nannies have to cart them back and forth, and I see grown-ups either riding the scooters or dragging them along the sidewalk in the morning, only to repeat the whole ordeal when the kids get picked up in the afternoon. Hence, the scooter parking lot makes sense. I love the idea that all the kids just leave them outside the school and collect them once the day is over.

What I hadn't noticed until I took this picture is how the scooters are separated by color, and presumably sex. I don't want to assume too much as a boy could easily ride a pink one. But I'm guessing most of the pink scooters, seen in the foreground, belong to the girls. There is a much larger group of blue scooters further down the parking lot.

Maybe girls ride blue ones AND pink ones, so that's why there are more blue than pink. That makes sense. And some of them are decorated with stickers, probably to make it easier to identify one scooter from the others. Can you imagine the school yard brawls that could take place if one kid takes the wrong scooter? Drama.

I think I may start treating these like Boris Bikes (the bikes stationed around the city that are available to rent). Tomorrow I might borrow a scooter, run to the store, grab some lunch and put it back before school gets out. The kids won't know. I could take a different one everyday - so many to choose from!

As I was lurking about the school, getting ready to take these pictures (while trying not to appear suspicious taking pictures outside a primary school)(and maybe I shouldn't use the word "lurking" to describe my actions, that in itself sounds sketchy) I saw a couple leaving the school with their young (maybe 3 year old) daughter in tow. The mother said "I think she did well. What do you think? Did she do well?" And the father responded that yes, he too thought she did well. Obviously the girl had just interviewed for a slot at the school and the mother was nervously seeking reassurances that her daughter came across well and would be offered a place at the school. The little girl was walking about 5 feet ahead of her parents and didn't seem to have any cares in the world, probably unaware how important the last hour or so of her life had been. Little did she know that if she picked the wrong toys, or played with them too aggressively, or gave a less than ideal answer to the question of what her favorite animal is, her whole future would be RUINED! No Uni for her. She can kiss Oxford or Cambridge good bye. Hopefully in 20 years her mother won't be reminding the girl of that time she really screwed up her interview at that school in Knightsbridge, and how she has only herself to blame for her dead end, minimum wage job and bleak future prospects. Poor girl. Let's hope one day soon she too will be leaving her pink or blue scooter at the school gate parking lot.