¡Hola! Barcelona

I love Barcelona! I think this might be my new favorite city! Barcelona is a perfect blend of old and new, traditional and modern, city luxury and laid back lifestyle.

I've had a friend, Jason, come to town to celebrate his 30th birthday and so we decided to take a quick 4 day trip to this great city.

Unfortunately for Jason, thought, his birthday celebration did not start off too relaxing. He landed in London at 9am in the morning on Thursday and when he arrived at my flat, it was to see a flurry of unpacking activities. My things had just cleared customs the day before and I had received a call from the shipping company that they could either deliver the next morning or not until later this week.

Guess which date I picked….

So needless to say, instead of a warm welcome at the airport, he instead got to find his way to my flat via train and taxi and was greeted by my movers and a load of boxes in various stages of unpacking.

How did he spend the morning of his big 30th birthday?

Unpacking my kitchen….not the most glamorous way to celebrate, but he jumped right in and in very short time he had my kitchen in order - and I had the rest of the place done as well. I say it was in order, but really, it was an exercise in creativity as we were both just putting things anywhere to get them out of the way and I'll actually start organizing later this week.

Good news though - everything arrived, customs only searched a couple of my boxes, nothing was broken and all the boxes arrived!!

So only 3 hours after touching down on English soil for Jason, we were off for a quick lunch and another airport to get to Spain. I know it seems like a bit of a rush, but the thought process was that it might be OK for him to do a few different time zones in one day, then as long as we woke up in Spain, it would be easier. And besides, I had to be back to work by Monday, so we were on limited time.

Here is something interesting…I have traveled a bit in Mexico and the Dominican Republic and I was always fine with my limited Spanish since, in all honesty, its really more like Spanglish, and in those countries, they really understand English well enough, that you can lull yourself into a false sense of feeling like your language skills aren't so bad.

Well, there was no sense of that in Spain. I fully admit that I have lost more of the language than I had realized and Senora Torellio, my high school Spanish teacher would have been ashamed of me!

However, even with the language barrier, the trip was incredible!

Thursday night we really didn't see much of the city save for the extended taxi ride since the driver missed a turn to the hotel. We had a great dinner, though at a little café and I was able to satisfy the paella craving that I have had for the past week since we decided to make the trip.

Friday we walked all over the city. I absolutely love just meandering around the city…any city really. It’s a great way to get a feel for your surroundings and to see so many little places that are a bit off the beaten path.

Walking through the streets of Barcelona was an all day study of people and beautiful architecture. There is a blend - consistent throughout the city of new and old. You can walk past one building that could easily be 300 years old and next to it could be a building that is less than 10 years old. One of the great things that we got to see were buildings by an incredible architect named Gaudi. This man was an absolute visionary. My initial thought was that he was a man so far ahead of his time, but once I thought about it a bit more, he really defined his own space in time, for there is nothing in the present that I can even begin to compare his genius to. One building might be reminiscent of something dreamt from a Tim Burton film, but then the next building you see could easily have risen from the sand and rocks of a desert oasis. He began work on a temple in the early 1900s that was not complete by his death in 1926. Construction then stopped, but resumed after his plans were rediscovered in the 60s. This temple is roughly the size of a city block and encompasses so many aspects of the religious history of the country that it is almost impossible to comprehend how so many separate stories can be blended together so beautifully into the façade and interior of one single building.

After a long day of walking, and walking, and a little more walking, we stayed close to the downtown market area for dinner and a tour of the local open air market. Immediately upon entering the fruits and vegetable stalls, I was reminded of the produce store my dad used to have. I suppose that some smells will evoke certain memories long after those scents fade. I could not help wondering how much my father would have been in awe of this market.

The vegetables and fruits were so incredibly vibrant in their colors, scents, textures and tastes. I have never seen strawberries so huge! The intense red of those tomatoes was enough to make me want to just bite into them whole right there in the aisles! There were vendors selling every possible edible concoction one could ever imagine…nuts, dried fruit, gelato, candy, chocolate, wine, fruits, vegetables, fish, meat, cheese, and eggs!

I will be honest though - there were a few times that the freshness was a bit much for me…for instance, the skinned animals dangling from the hooks - I could have done without seeing that. Or the one thing in a couple of the meat cases that we could not even identify - we are torn between mongoose or rabbit - both of which I think I may now avoid if ever I see them on the menu…I really don't think that any incredible flavor of the after could erase my image of the before…

Saturday was, unfortunately, not as smooth as Fridays' adventures, though. I still contend it was fun little waste of 2 hours, Jason, when reading this will just roll his eyes.

Our goal was to get to Guell Park. It is this beautiful park way up on a hill that overlooks the city and has some great hiking opportunities as well as a few more great architectural secrets waiting for anyone that can hoof high enough up the hills to take a peek.

The concierge tells us that all we need to do to get there is take the #24 bus…sounds so simple….

Off we head to the town square to catch the bus. I didn't realize until just the other day, though, that that was the first time Jason has ever been on a public bus….hmm…no wonder he was a bit hesitant to try it once he started exploring London a bit….

I admit though, since being here in London, I have become quite a little bus riding pro. I know when to push the button for the next stop, I know how to read the route maps, I even know that if you don't know where you're going, as long as you ask the bus driver if his route includes your particular destination and he says yes, and you sit towards the front - he'll just let you know when to get off.

That said, we attempt to get on the 24 bus. I quickly ask to make sure the route includes a stop for Guell park and inquire about buying a day pass for the bus. The driver, in his limited english, we think, tells us that you can't buy tickets on the bus and points to the other corner of the square and says to buy them there at the metro station.

No big deal, I think, it’s a bit weird that you can't buy tickets on the bus, but here in London, a day ticket covers the bus and tube, so I suppose maybe it stands to reason that you have to buy the tickets in the metro/tube station.

Off we go to the metro station….Just to make sure we are headed in the right direction though, we ask a couple police men that are standing on the corner talking. They point us to the information desk for the 'Hop On, Hop Off' tour operator. I asked to make sure this was correct - we didn't want the tour bus, we wanted the city bus. He assures us that is correct and again, off we go….

Once at the information desk, the information lady tells us she doesn't sell city transportation tickets, but I can go to the metro station and get them there, she points us in that direction. Off we go….

Once in the metro station, we are a bit unsure about the automated ticket machine. It doesn't specifically say its for the bus, but it doesn't say its not, either. So we look around for a little assistance. Apparently there is no one manning any of the booths during that time of the day though, or it was just our luck that they were all on a break at the same time. So we wonder around the metro station a bit, finally find someone that points us in the other direction and says to buy the bus tickets upstairs….um…the only upstairs in the underground of the metro station is outside….so off we go….

Once upstairs, we start looking around and are now a bit confused. Jason was ready to call it a day, but I, ever the little explorer am now determined to get on the bus!

We ask one final metro police guy who points us back down to the metro station and the automated machines…turns out we were closer than we thought before!!

Finally we figure out the ticket machine. As I am trying to break the code of the zone layout map, Jason points to the wall next to me and says that it might be easier for me if I look at the English version…hmmm….yes, he was correct…it was much easier.

Tickets….check! Next stop Guell Park!!

Just as a point of reference, this little side adventure has taken us about 40 minutes….the ride was only supposed to be 20.

Once we get back up to ground level, we make our way back to the bus stop, present our tickets and off we go….

Now that it's been a while and we are a little turned around, we decide to double check that the bus route does in fact include Guell Park…after being on the bus for 10 minutes.

Just our luck….the bus driver lady doesn't really speak English, so 5 minutes later after an animated charades session and a few drawing on some paper, we realize that we are on the right bus, but going in the wrong direction!!! And even better - we are almost at the end of the route.

Some more charades…some more drawings and we realize the bus driver is telling us to just stay on this bus, it is turning around and at the other end is Guell Park.

20 more minutes later, we are back to the city square where we started. Now in this time, I have seen a few people buy tickets when they get on the bus. I don't mind telling you I was a little ticked - why didn't the 1st driver sell us tickets?

Once we go around the city square it dawns on me…..we are now going through the other corner of the square…where the 1st driver was pointing…OH…lightbulb…..he wasn't saying he wouldn't sell us tickets….he was saying that he was going in the wrong direction and that we needed to go over to the other side to get on the right bus!!!!!

Hmmmm…time like these I wish my Spanish were a bit better!

Needless to say, 20 minutes later, there we are - Guell Park. And yes - it was worth the wait! This beautiful hillside park was absolutely amazing. The warm temps of the weekend - 60s and sunny added to the day as well! After doing a little light hiking through the park, seeing a few of the original houses that were build before it was turned over to the city, as well as seeing some street performers and street vendors, we headed back down towards town via the infamous bus #24…this time without incident, though.

Again, we had another great dinner and walk around the local markets. OH, and I picked up the little bargain I found the night before…I got a new leather jacket and they had to hem the sleeves for me overnight. I think it’s the softest leather I have ever felt! Right now it is hanging regally in my closet until I can get some leather protector for it. I think I'm almost a bit scared to wear it! Its just beautiful and so soft and I don't want anything to happen to it, so I have been putting off wearing it around the general public…I know - totally stupid and I'll break over and wear it soon since my other leather jacket A - has seen better days to put it nicely and B - really just pales in comparison to the new one. I kind of feel a bit sorry for the old one really…

Anyway, that was the bulk of our adventures in Barcelona - we left around noon the next day, so didn't really do too much sight seeing in the morning. Also, now that I have all of the cables for my camera, at some point this weekend I am going to try to upload all of the pictures I've taken so far to share with everyone online.

Cops...London Edition

So, I’m not sure if its common knowledge or not, but guns are outlawed in the UK. And it’s not just the criminals, it’s the bobbies, too! The bobbies around here do not carry guns. Its quite amazing to me actually. Every time I see one of them pass me, I turn and check out their little fanny packs just to see if there really isn't a gun there - and there never is!

Basically, they are like a guy I knew when I was a kid…Randy the Rent-A-Cop. Randy used to patrol the mean streets of Grove City….well, actually only the parking lot of the McDonalds was within his "jurisdiction", but he liked to stroll the streets in his little Rent-A-Cop outfit…it the badge is not state issued, then its an outfit - not a uniform…just my opinion, though.

Anyway, these bobbies have done nothing to change their image in my mind. First off, they all wear these bright lime green vests. This makes them look stupid really, I think. Who can respect a guy that looks like one of the dudes from the Village People? I feel like at any moment one of them could whip a little radio out of their fanny packs and break into a rendition of 'YMCA' right there on Oxford St.!

And the fanny pack - yes, I keep coming back to that, I know, but if any of you come across the pond for a visit, you'll know what I'm talking about and you'll just laugh, too. What can they have in there? Not extra ammo, not a Taser, what? Maybe some Band-Aids and a little Neosporin? In case a mugger falls after stealing someone's wallet, then the bobby can patch him up? He sure can't shoot him or subdue the mugger unless he knows some sort of Kung Fu or sheer magic!

I mean, really! These guys don't even carry the big Maglight Flashlights or batons! They might have the batons, though - I just haven't seen them - hopefully that’s among the kleenex in the fanny pack.

Honestly, there is just something about the boys in blue with their pristine uniforms, their holsters (with guns) and their attitude that demands respect and order. These guys, though, with their lime green vests and fanny packs demand as much respect as Randy the Rent-A-Cop got from me when I was 13.

Now that said, I did have a little closer brush with the boys in green that I would have liked to the other night..

I was out the other night around 9:30, just taking a walk (since there was nothing on the 5 channels I currently get on the TV). I am starting to cross the street, when all of the sudden, about 5 bobbies on motorcycles come down the main street and shut off all the side streets.

Just to set the mental image for you, the streets are split a bit, so you can cross one set of lanes (east bound for example), then there is a little island you can wait on until you can cross the next lane (west bound for example).

Guess where I was when they rolled up - yeah - stuck on the little island!!

So they roll up, shut off the side streets and then this one - with his helmet still on - starts looking at me and I think he was yelling, but he still had his helmet on, so it wasn't really effective yelling, it was more his face was moving a bit and his eyes were all angry. Then he starts pointing to me all furious and whips his helmet off and yells at me to get out of the street!!

This might not be the time to point it out, but technically, I wasn't in the street - I was on the island, but I kept my mouth shut about that…

Now here is where we start to have a wee problem. He had a really heavy accent - northern England, I think - you can hardly even understand them sometimes - and I didn't get what he was saying, so I must have looked confused. So he starts pointing to the other side of the street, but there was a bus coming - what did he want me to do?!? Run in front of the bus??

So I point to the bus and he starts to get off his bike....um...this can't be good....he starts to stride over to me, but before he gets to me. He raises his hand and holts the bus! Good thing since that situation really could have gone another way!

He points to me, then points to the opposite corner and looks straight at me and yells - over there! And he kinda said it like i was an idiot or something - whatever. I feel that was a bit unnecessary.

So I hustle over to the other corner and before I know it, this convoy of cars comes flying down the other side of the street. No idea who it was, there was a flag on the Range Rover, and on a couple of the limos, but I didn't recognize anyone.

Mainly this was because I wasn't looking to much at the convoy because I was still trying to figure out why the bobby was still looking at me strangely - he was making me a bit nervous! I mean - what the heck? I was out of the street and all. Well, the convoys rolls past and all starts to get back to normal, and a few more bobbies start to roll down to the next intersection - they're like leap frogging to stop traffic for this convoy and the bobby that had been yelling at me and staring at me starts to come over...Oh man - am I an enemy of the state or something?

Does he work for the TV License in his spare time? I took care of that!!!

Well, he comes over to me - which was only a few steps really, I wasn't that far from his motorcycle and he looks at me and says, "Sorry luv, didn't mean to scare you like that and make you spill your coffee. Just doing my duty." With that, he gets back on his bike and rides away, leaving me staring at him a bit confused…what is he talking about?

When I look down, here I have hot tea all over the front of my t-shirt! When I had to run across the street, it must have slopped out of the cup and I didn't even notice!!! Nice...really smooth, Tiffer!

So apparently they don't need guns to rule the streets of London, they can get you with a little Earl Grey Tea!

Pro-cess…aka - Monopoly isn't just a game.

So today boys and girls we are going to discuss process. In London, this word is pronounced pro-cess…pro - as in professional and cess as in a cesspool of red tape….put these two words together and you have Process…and a country that has turned the cesspool and quagmire of red tape into a profession.

It is slightly amazing to me that there is any unemployment in this country as there seems to be some step in some process that someone can and does hold the key to.

Process 1 - Getting your banking set up….aka - I just wanna be able to get my money - please don't hold my money hostage!!

So in the states, if you need to get a bank account, you just go into any branch of any on any corner of any street. They greet you nicely with a smile that says, "We're trustworthy, please let us hold your money for you." You sign your name on the dotted line, maybe add your social security number to the mix, they give you little temporary check and say, "Thanks, you'll get your ATM card and Pin in the next 5-7 days in the mail." Five days later, you've got your card in your hand, a PIN number in your hand and you can hit the net and register yourself to bank online any time you want, you can immediately call the number on the back of the card and anyone will give you your balance or discuss your account with you at anytime so long as you can provide them with correct answers to your security information. Done!

Well, in the UK…not so easy.

First, simply by being an ex-pat, for tax purposes, I need to keep my money offshore. This is not nearly as glamorous as they make it out to seem in the movies - in actuality, it adds a whole level of complexity to the banking process that almost makes me want to just give it to the government and be done with it. There are long drawn out reasons for this, but I won't bore you with the details, except for the fact that my money is somewhere off the coast of France…as are the only people that can apparently deal with my money.

Now, don't get the wrong idea here, I didn't secretly hit the lottery and move in an attempt to hide from people who want to get my lotto winnings - make no mistake, we are not talking about exorbitant amounts of money here…To put it in perspective, in relation to the amounts of money that most people hide offshore…my little nest egg is probably less than the interest those people earn.

Step 1 - Day 1 - Apply for the account - Yes, that's right - I had to actually apply - a 2 page application no less to ask someone to keep my money. This application process takes about a week to get approved - how many people do they have applying that it takes a week to process?

Step 2 - Day 8 - Once approved, they send you an email with all your account details. This is totally in direct contrast to all the next steps that are specifically designed to protect me from fraud.

Step 3 - Day 15 - 7 days later I get my PIN number in the mail. This must be signed for.

Step 4 - Once I get the PIN number, I must then call the bank, confirm I got the PIN. They will then mail out my card.

Step 5 - Day 17 - 2 days later I get my checks in the mail. I have no idea how to fill these things out - they do not look like any check I have ever seen and I was a teller at a bank when I was in college!! Also, I need to call a separate number to confirm I have received these safely.

Step 6 - Day 18 - The next day I get a book of deposit slips in the mail. Again - these do not look like any deposit slip I've ever seen!! Again, there is another number to call to verify that I received these in the mail as well.

Step 7 - Day 26 - 8 days later, I receive my card in the mail. Once I receive that card, I must then call again - you guessed it - a separate number - and speak to someone to verify that I received the card. I then have to provided them with my customer number to active the card and access my money. Oh wait - I don't have my customer ID yet!!

Step 8 - Day 29 - 3 days later, I get my customer ID in the mail. I call back in to a 5th number and activate the card and can finally access my money that has been held hostage until this point.

Step 9 - Day 30 - I try to go online to set up my account only to find out that you have to apply to have online banking!! I try to call the bank from the number on the back of my card and check my balance. Only I find out that this number is the number for UK customers, not customers with international banking like me. But they make the cards in the UK, so they just put the UK phone number on all the cards. Once they find the number for telephone banking and give it to me - because they have no access to even see my balance - and am told that I also have to apply for telephone banking as well!!! I have to apply to look at my account and get an automated voice to tell me a balance?!?! Are you kidding me!?!?!

Apparently no, they weren't kidding me, and I don't think the lady on the phone appreciated my sarcasm to their processes….

Step 10 - Day 30 - Submit my application for online and telephone banking.

Step 11 - Day 34 - I receive confirmation that my application for internet and telephone banking has been processed and accepted…um…was there a chance this might have been declined? Are there individuals out there that are able to use their accounts and bank cards, but not access them online?

Step 12 - Day 35 - I happen to be in the area of a bank and popped in to ask the lady how to fill out a check…this is not a proud moment for me, but I admit, when dealing with this much process, one can never have too much pride in what they know and do not no - absolutely do not assume anything around here!!

Process 2 - BT Line Rental - the gatekeeper to the telecommunications universe…aka…Are monopolistic practices not of concern to Her Royal Majesty?

In the states if you want to talk on the phone, you just call Ma Bell, or one of her neighbors, Ms. Sprint or Ms. ATT and they take some info over the phone, make sure your credit report doesn't officially list you as a deadbeat with payment history problems, they give you a number, then they tell you it will be turned on in a few days - and no, in most cases, you don't even need to be home.

Also in the states, if you want to surf the internet, you just call one of those same nice people again, or even their cousins, Mr. Armstrong or Mr. Comcast and one of them will be more than happy to send you out all the equipment you need and turn your service on.

Oh no no…not true in the UK. In order to get anything done, you have to rent a BT (British Telephone) line. Rental for the line comes in at a low low service price of £11.50 per month. Apparently, no one will touch you unless you have a BT line number. This is also some sort of verification of your residency - like you'd be trying to hook up internet if you didn't live here? And even if you did - why do they care? They're still getting paid?

Now, usually they can just hook up the line with in a few days - whenever they have the next available appointment. Yes, here you have to be here when the BT man comes, and for your convenience, their appointments are between 9am and 5pm Monday through Friday. Their appointment windows are 9am-1pm and 12pm-5pm.

However, in my case, when you apparently have no previous lines into the flat (for instance if you're landlord didn't bother to hook that back up after they cut the lines while remodelling the place) then you get to pay £125 just for the service man to come and reconnect your lines.

"Ma'am, the next available appointment is in only 8 days, its really unusual to get an appointment that quick!" says the guy on the phone…a phone call which took 28 minutes.

So I reserve my slot for 9am-1pm and anxiously await the day.

Oh - also, did I fail to mention that I had to sign a 12 month contract for the privilege of getting a home phone? Yeah - I'm just rolling my eyes at this point - I could care less if they freeze like that...

Oh - and no, I can't get internet until I get a BT line, so this means I take the morning off work since I can't really work from home since I don't have an internet connection.

Once I get my line, then comes the fun of deciding upon an internet provider!

Now, there are many to choose from, but all have contracts, and there are as many plans out there as there are blades of grass on Her Majesty's Royal Garden.

How did I choose the best plan? The one that could get hooked up the fastest!

The range of actually getting service and equipment ran anywhere from 10 to 21 days. Apparently this country is not so much what you would call a "Customer Service Oriented Society" Hmm…and I though the pace in the south was slow!

Oddly, BT came out ahead since they provided a free modem, made me only sign a 1 year contract and were in the top three for quickest turn around. Plus, I had foolishly also thought that it would be convenient to get one bill from the BT Nazi's.

Oh - side note - they don't really like the use of the term Nazi around her…like soup Nazi, etc….they are still a little sore about that…we won't go into details about how I found this out the head way…that’s another story for another day.

So now I am patiently (yeah right) awaiting my equipment to arrive at some point this week - and yes - it must be signed for (hope I'm home) and then they will turn on the service at some point late Friday evening….interesting that they employ someone to switch on my service at 8pm on a Friday night, but they can't find someone to send out my equipment earlier than 12 days after I call to get the service set up? How many modems do they send out that there is such an overwhelming backlog?

Process 3 - Freeview…aka, you get what you pay dearly for…and it ain't free)

So in the US, when you want cable, you call your local cable provider and say, "Please let me pay you to watch a little TV." They say, "Right away - we want your money as fast as possible!" And within a few days you can plug it in, turn it one and - viola! - more channels than you will ever really want to watch, but will have to pay for anyway!! Plus a nominal fee per month - about 4 dollars for tax.

Or you have the other option - the option that my father has threatened since the day we got our first little grey cable box - go with an antenna. I used to think he was a bit crazy for that, but now I am loath to admit that he might have been onto something. If anyone out there is reading this that knows him, please tell him that he might have been right about that - please be specific about only being right in this one case - I don't want him to get to smug about some of his other ideas being right as well. And no, for those of you that don't know him, there is no way he will ever read this since he has decided that computers are not a necessity…see that's what I mean about telling him he's on to something too often.

Anyway, here in London, there are also 2 options, 1 - but the cable and pay extortion for a sick amount of stations that will never be watched, or 2 - Freeview.

Now I don't understand all the technicalities of it all, but at some point, everyone must have had to have an aerial (antenna) on their houses or buildings because it appears that, for most places, you just plug the cable into the wall and you get 5 stations…seemingly for free.

There are only 5 now since they, like the US, are mandating digital lines, so as long as you buy a freeview digital box and there you can get 40 channels….seemly for free.

Yes - the whole buying freeview is an oxymoron…and again, the sales people don't like the sarcasm when you point that out.

Now, why do I keep saying seemingly for free? Well, that would be because I got a nice little letter from an Inspector Wilhelm of the TV Licensing Counsel advising me that they have launched an investigation as there has been illegal usage of a television without a TV License. If the investigation (which will only take 2 weeks) proves that there is illegal usage of a TV, then the offender will be prosecuted and fined £1000!!!

An offender!?!!? I'm barely a resident!!!

A what!?!? A TV License? Who are these people? How can they tell I was watching 5 channels - and really - one is really fuzzy!! So that's only 4 channels since I haven't bothered to buy my freeview box yet!

So I call the number they have listed as their investigations department. LIARS!!! This is telesales!! Now, tell me how is threatening your residents fair advertising?

In all honesty, though - the guy on the phone did tell me that it might take upwards of 6 months for those investigations, but they do get around to it.

So there you have it...£130 pounds later, I have my TV License paid up for the year.

Yeah, freeview…..hm, I think they might need to rethink the name on that one…

So there you have it, just a few of the processes that have consumed my days and a few of my restless nights here…

Bonjour!!

So this weekend was Paris…I think I really love Paris….not enough to move there…calm down people….I know the USPS has the form for forwarding my new addresses as a standard link on their website and all, but I'm just saying, it was a great city.

There was a few moments on Saturday that I might have said differently, but after about 12 hours, the city had worked its magic on me and I was a goner.

I did fine on the train ride there, which is saying a lot since it was a 6:25AM train out of London and there was a family of 4 sitting next to me for the 2 hour journey.

Of course, like usual, where I am, craziness seems to follow….So I get off the train fine, find my way out of the station fine, get a taxi fine, I'm even able to give him my address to the hotel in perfect French…just fine….then we pull away from the curb…just fine…

Then the realization hits me - where are my sunglasses? I remember taking them out of my backpack to rearrange things before I got off the train…did I put them back?!?!!? After a quick search of my purse I realize I forgot them!!!!

"STOP!" What's the word for stop - I can't remember?!!? My sunglasses are gone!!! And not the cheapie kind - my prescription ones….my $300 prescription ones!!

So the taxi sows a bit and he kind of pulls over, I can only assume it was because he thought he had some crazy woman in the back of his car.

I just hopped out….completely just hopped out! I had my stuff and everything, and we had only gone about 10 yards, so its not like I had run a bill…well, there is the minimum fare and all….but come on….he was at the train station he can get another fare easier than I can get new sunglasses!!

Back into the station I go….Yeah - I can still see my train there!!!

Now this is where it might have been good for me to try and retain some of the French I had learned in High School, because I can not explain to you how hard it is, how stupid a person must look, when they are trying to make other people understand that they have lost their sunglasses to people who do not understand what sunglasses are. It was like some warped version of charades or something!

To their credit, though, I think they kind of understood and off the guy zooms to the train that I was on. As luck would have it, I was on the train farthest from the platform…

30 minutes later, 4 separate explanations of the situation later, 6 more people watching me play French/English charades later….my sunglasses are gone.

The conductor was very nice though, as were the 3 train ladies (I call them train ladies only because I have no idea what the train equivalent of a stewardess is), also, the 2 cleaning people that looked through their trash bags were very helpful.

Now before you get all on me about pulling all of these poor people into my drama and making people look through the trash, let me assure you, I had no idea what was going on!! I asked one security guy and it just sort of snowballed from there. One person told another person, etc., etc, and before I realized it, there was a search party looking for those sunglasses.

Then the thought hit me - I hope they understand that these are sunglasses….just sunglasses…that they are supposed to be looking for….I mean, they are putting a lot of effort into this, its not like I left a kid or anything…they were just sunglasses, expensive yes, but just sunglasses.

Anyway, as I said, in the end, no sunglasses.

So off I go again to the taxi's, a little bummed out, but it's OK - 16 years I've been wearing glasses and never lost a pair, so I suppose its not so bad, and besides, I'm in Paris…lets just put things in perspective here.

As we zoom through the streets of Paris and I try to take it all in, the thought just keeps nagging at me….I can't believe I forgot them…I've never done that before!

I remember taking them out of the backpack and rearranging things, I remember stuffing everything back in….do I remember looking at the seat again?

Yes! Yes I do, I did a final check! I always do a final check! Thanks mom and dad! They always made us do final checks whenever we went anywhere. Except some how we lost a pillow or two of moms along the way, and a change purse, too. But we were always supposed to do a final check!

I know I did a final check!

Ok…now I'm like Rain Man with these sunglasses…I seemingly can't accept that I might have lost something!

So where could they be? I checked my bag and my purse and they weren't there!

Ok - think back….start at the beginning, why didn't I put them back where I got them out of….which pocket did I grab them out of?

Oh - the little front one….OK…why didn't I put them back in there?

Hmmm…not sure….oh wait…I didn't check that pocket….

Oh look! The Eiffel Tower!! C'est tres Manufique!

Where was I in my train of thought….the pockets…oh yeah! Why didn't I put them back in the little front pocket?

Wait, I don't know that I didn't…I don't think I checked that pocket….

Oh look!!! There's my sunglasses!!!!

Oh, now I feel a little bad that I had someone…2 someones actually….look through trash for nothing….but in all fairness, I didn't ask them to do that…I don't even know the word for trash in French, so how could I have asked them to do that?

Oh well, they'll never see me again…I feel bad, but one can only do so much…I'm in Paris after all, they probably all hate me anyway as soon as I open my mouth and they hear the American accent come flying out.

C'est la Vie!

I get to the hotel and I check my luggage…well, my big back pack really…and no, not the infamous 'Lets pick me up some Gay Guy' back pack, though…this was a different one.

I really think that any place is made up of more than just its parts. Take Paris for example, I visited the main things in one day…the Eiffel Tower, Notre Dame, Paris Opera House, Arc de Triumph, and even strolled along the Champs Elyse. Yes, I enjoyed those things, and I am glad that I saw them all….but, where is the place that I felt the most like I was 'in Paris'?....the place where I said, 'wow, this is what I thought Paris was all about'….it was as I was sitting along the side of the Seine, sipping hot chocolate and letting the sun warm my face.

You see….that's what I mean about Paris (but its applicable to any place) being more than just the sum of its parts. You have to see things for the whole, not just the parts that the tour guide points out.

So there I was, Sunday afternoon, lounging along the banks of the Seine, among the aspiring artists, weekend poets, and a few pretty decent musicians, and the thought just hit me….I am content…I am relaxed…I had totally forgotten what this felt like.

When was the last time I felt like this, hmm, well, it must be…oh…say…hmm…..well, when was the last time that I was totally, completely relaxed and content? I have no idea…that’s probably not a good thing.

Content…hmmm…my guess is that the meaning of that word does not contain anything close to, "a content person has had 8 separate addresses across 4 different states and 2 countries in less than 10 years" Relaxed….well, lets just not go there….honestly, I'm surprised I spelled it right without using spell check.

I think London is having a bigger impact on me than I had originally thought. Maybe just being here, coming without any expectations as to what this next phase of my life holds for me has made me realize that its not the things around me that I need to be contentment with, its me that that needs to be content with myself, who I am, where I am in life and then the rest will come. Yes, I need to relax, but maybe I need to relax about me more than anything? Maybe I needed something bigger than a zip code change to make me see myself and my life in a cleared perspective?

Hmmmm…these are deep thoughts and questions for a beautiful Sunday afternoon along the Seine, but I am within 1 kilometer of the statue of 'The Thinker', so maybe something is actually in the air around here.

1960

So this week has been relatively quiet…not completely quiet mind you as that would be completely out of the norm for me!

So it’s Wednesday night and I’m on my way home from work around 7ish. I get down to the tube which, thankfully, since it’s a little later; the commuter crowd has cleared out a bit. Yeah! I might actually not have to stand face to face with a stranger for my 8 minute ride. FYI…the concept of personal space doesn’t exist so much around here.

Anyway, I’m standing on the platform and there is a guy standing a few feet off to my right…we’ll call him Nice Guy. Then there is a guy standing a bit behind him and a little more to the right…we’ll call him Crazy Guy.

I think you might see where this is going…

The train pulls up and when it stops, the door is a bit to my right – almost in front of Nice Guy. The train stops and the door slides open and Nice Guy steps back a little and motions me to go in front of him.

I’m just going to interject here and say that there is a very easy way to tell the Londoners from the tourists…Londoners are the nice ones. A London guy, for the most part will always hold the door, let women in front of them, and give up their seats on a train for us ladies…it’s really rather sweet! And truth be told – I really rather like it!

So back on track…no pun intended….the doors open and Nice Guy motions to me. Then, out of no where, Crazy Guy swings around Nice Guy and cuts in front of me and hurls his crazy self into the train. Nice Guy looks at me and I look at him and just smile, he smiles and shrugs, then we both get on the train.

So we are in the back of the train and on either side of the door, there is a little upholstered strip that you can kind of lean up against, not a seat or anything, kind of just a head rest, but for your bum. I lean up against the one immediately inside the door, Nice Guy takes up residence next to me – on my left side now. Crazy Guy has moved further in the train about 3 ft from the both of us and is glaring at Nice Guy…and a little at me, too, but more at Nice Guy.

Hmmmm…This might not be good.

I take out my newspaper and start to read….well, start to pretend to read. Riding on the tube is very much like driving on the highway. You dust look straight ahead and don’t make eye contact with the other travellers.

The doors close and off we go…Crazy Guy is still staring his crazy stare in our direction.

“Why did you do that?!?!” Yells Crazy Guy.

Well, thanks Crazy Guy, now everyone in the train is looking our way!

“Huh?” Nice Guy says, “I was just letting her in front of me.”

Hey Nice Guy – what happened to the chivalry? Don’t be bringing me into this!! I would have been fine to hop on the train after you.

My eyes peep up over the top of the newspaper.

Crazy Guy again, not appeased, “QUIT FOLLOWING ME!!”

No one moves…no one breathes….we are all looking at our papers…no one is reading, but we are all in the ‘I could be reading, but I would rather see how this plays out’ pose.

To his credit, Nice Guy totally ignores Crazy Guy.

“You people have to quit following me!!!” Crazy Guy is screaming again!!

To honest, he has thrown in some…um…colourful…words here and there randomly. However, I don’t know the exact audience that is reading this, so I will keep it to the PG version.

“Man, why are you following me?!?!”

“You need to quit following me!?!?!?”

“Its been like this since 1960!!”

Wait…what….Crazy Guy is only like in his 30s! He wasn’t around in 1960!

“1960!!”

“1960, man, it’s all about 1960!!”

“Next stop, Oxford Circus” comes the driver’s announcement.

Well, now I have a decision to make…Hop off here and skip back one car? Then again, maybe Crazy Guy will hop off…really – that would be better. If he thinks we’re following him, surely hopping off would be his logical move.

The doors open and no one – I mean no one moves a muscle!

Some girl hops through the door.

“Elephants and 1960! It’s all the same to you people!”

The girl hops back off…

There is a woman who has been standing across from me the whole time and we have occasionally looked at one another and smiled a bit. She has a ‘fright or flight’ look on her now and keeps looking at the door.

Too late! The doors close and we’re off again.

“Elephants!! You need to quit following me!!”

Crazy Guy is now shaking his head vigorously as if he has in fact figured the conspiracy out.

“No one before 1959 has this trouble!! I tell you all – its all began since 1960!!”

Wow – I had no idea I would get this kind of entertainment on the way home!!

“Next stop, Bond Street” comes the driver’s announcement.

Here we go again….stay or go!?!?

One guy that is sitting about 2 seat in from where I am standing gets off, but instead of walking past me, he walks the length of the train the other way so he doesn’t have to walk past out little situation…wimp.

The guy that was standing by Crazy Guy in the same little bum rest seat that I am in, but on the other side of the door gets off.

What?!?! I see out of the corner of my eye, Nice Guy takes the place of the guy that just hopped off…he has actually moved closer to Crazy Guy…now whose crazier?!!? Not a smart move Nice Guy!!

The doors close and we’re off again.

“Red shoes!”

“That’s how I know you all, man!! The red shoes!”

Nice Guy has on Brown loafers….

“You gotta be smarter than that if you’re going to follow me man!! I know the shoes!!”

“Next stop, Marble Arch” comes the driver’s announcement.

We stop and the doors open and fright or flight lady across from me bolts off the train like its on fire!

“You just gotta leave it alone, man!”

“Forget 1960, man!!”

And with those parting words, Crazy Guy lunges for the door as they start to close! He just barely makes it through the doors as they close. Now he has stopped and turned back to the train as we pull away.

“Follow me now with your red shoes!!!!” He screams this so loudly, we can hear him over the roar of the train as we pull away.

There is a collective sigh and snicker throughout the train. Everyone lowers their unread papers and we all kind of look around at each other.

Nice Guy looks at me and sort of does the smile/shrug thing again.

I couldn’t help myself…”I’ve always thought 1962 was the year they started following us, not 1960.”

Without missing a beat, Nice Guy, completely deadpan, replies, “No, it’s 1960. But really, it’s the red shoes that give me away every time. I suppose I should change to blue.”

I love the English sense of humor!!

“Next stop, Lancaster Gate” comes the driver’s announcement.

Oh – that’s me!!

Home Sweet Home

Ok, so I am officially in my new flat!!! And like all things that I experience, this was not what one could consider a “smooth” transition….

Friday night I get the keys from the letting agent!! Yeah!! Oh – is this skeleton key for real? Why yes, yes it is. I have a lock on my front door that requires a skeleton key for the lock. Don’t worry, there is another lock – a real one that I run over and take a look around the new place and check out the new neighbourhood.

Small glitch…the delivery men have somehow mistaken the living room – where the large TV is sitting - for the bedroom - where the walk-in closet is – and have thus left the mattress in the living room. Hmmm….interesting…. No problem, quick call to the letting agent and this is rectified in about 30 minutes.

And before you all ask why I didn’t just do it myself – that’s because I couldn’t manoeuvre the doorway and the box springs here aren’t like box springs in the UK, they actually have drawers in them…which is a brilliant idea, but does not make the logistics of moving the piece very easy.

Nonetheless, this is all fine now and the bed is now in the bedroom.

Saturday…..

I went to this great open air market on Saturday morning. I figured, for my new flat, I better stock the kitchen with some great things! So off I go to Borough Market with a friend of mine from back in the states that also now lives in the UK.

It was an absolute assault on my senses! A complete foodie heaven! I was like a kid in a candy store! There was so much to see…and taste!! Fresh everything! Now, I know that I come from western PA and that a farmers market should be nothing new to me – but this was on a whole new level!! Huge wheels of cheese, fresh meat and fish, fresh produce – some of which I had no idea what it was – I saw potatoes that were purple inside! There was honey made by Italian monks, olive oil from Greece, and wine from France and Spain, vegetables from all over! On the down side, I did turn a corner and see a rabbit and some pheasant hanging on a hook still with fur, feathers and all their parts still intact…we just won’t think on that too much.

Anyway, I got some things, but not a lot – you have to plan tactically when your only mode of transportation is the tube. But I saw everything, so now I know what I’m in for the next time and can plan ahead a bit!

After a nice relaxing lunch at the market – did I tell you that all meals here are a relaxed event? Even I have slowed down to enjoy the pace. I still contend that having to wolf down my lunches all through elementary, Jr. and High school is the reason I eat so quick to this day. But a month in London has cured me of that. The other night I had dinner with friends and we were there for 4 hours…and no – they don’t kick you out of the place or give you dirty looks. The wait staff don’t slowly walk past you with doleful looks and fake coughs that can only be translated as, “Hey- get out – seriously – I need to turn this table over – I got tips to make, man!” Here you have to actually ask to get the check or they won’t ever bring it to you – they just let you sit there and enjoy the meal and the conversation…novel idea!

But I digress….

Back to Saturday…

So I get back to the corporate apt, and pack up my suitcases, etc. and call a cab to assist with the move. I actually needed to make 2 trips though, I’ve done a little shopping and gotten things in anticipation of the new place, so I needed to reuse one of the suitcases for a second trip.

One trip down…very smooth…back to the hotel…one more trip to go…

So all I have on me is one big rollie suitcase and my backpack with some things from the fridge. I decide that instead of calling for a cab and waiting for it to come, I’ll just start heading in the direction of the new place and grab a taxi on the way there….

20 minutes later, I have once again fallen victim to Murphy and his stupid laws and the only time I want to find a taxi in London there are none to be found!!

Its about 8:30 by the time I get to the flat and I’ve made a quick list of a few things that I need to get in preparation for my Day-O-Cleaning on Sunday.

So off I head to Woolworth’s…yes, that’s right, the 5 & 10 store some of you loved when you were my age is alive and thriving here in the UK!

By the time I arrive home with my bags, its pushing 10:15.

Time for bed!!

Yeah right – I wish!! Since coming here, I have developed some sort of strange insomnia. I can not seem to fall asleep! This has nothing to do with the whole cold medicine and caffeine debacle either – that was an extreme case. But its become the norm for me to lay awake until about 1 or 2ish. I still get up at the same time, so its almost like all of the sudden I don’t need as much sleep. Which would be great if I were doing something productive with those extra hours, but since mourning the lost hours of sleep isn’t productive – we have a problem!

Anywho….I get up Sunday and go for the unpacking gusto!! Which really took about 30 minutes since I hardly had anything to unpack, but I stretched it out a bit, so it was fine.

Then the excitement of the day – My groceries were delivered at noon!! This is a completely novel idea to me! I ordered them online on Friday night, picked a time and sure enough, the delivery guy was on my doorstep at noon as requested to deliver my food! I don’t think I’ll do this on a weekly basis obviously, but for the purpose of stocking the basics, etc, that would have been impossible to do without a taxi ride or something – so let them deliver!!!

I spent the rest of the day cleaning a bit and organizing and reading here and there. The TV is really just mocking me at this point – I’m not getting the cable box until tomorrow, so its really just wasted furniture right now mocking me with the possibility of viewing something soon. But on the good side – no distractions to my nesting frenzy!

So around 9ish, I start to get ready to go out to a pub with a few friends to see the SuperBowl.

Houston…we may have a problem….

So first let me describe the shower situation over here to anyone unfamiliar with European bathing….there isn’t a shower curtain. There is a piece of glass that runs about half the length of the tub and is about as high as the showerhead. Also, the tubs are all raised, so when I step over the side of the tub, its like a giant step up, but then its almost murder stepping out, since you have to step really far down. I’ll show pictures later once I get my camera cords back then it will make sense.

Anyway, so I have this half shower wall thing going on and it’s a bit difficult to get used to since I’m pretty conscious of all the water droplets splashing here and there and everywhere. But up until now, it honestly hasn’t been that bad….up until now.

This is where I must publicly apologize to Jason whose bathroom might have been a bit flooded in the past, and I might have been the culprit. But in my defence, J, your showerhead is totally geared to someone 6 ft3 blocking the water spray! How am I supposed to do that at 5 ft?!!? So it’s not totally my fault…God made me short and he created water on like the 2nd day, so there you have it – it was a disaster waiting to happen.

So the showerhead at my new flat is set up as one of those jobbies that you can remove the showerhead from….so there is a vertical bar that you can move the whole shower mechanism up and down on and adjust it, and you should theoretically be able to adjust the angle at which the showerhead itself is pointed….theoretically…..

But on mine, the little tightner thing for the vertical is so tight, that I can’t loosen it – and its way at the top of the vertical adjuster bar thing. Then the little tightner thing to adjust the angle won’t tighten at all!

Yes – those were all the technical terms – ask anyone at Lowes…

So do you see that I might be in for a bit of another flood situation here….I’m not willing to say at this point that the pattern might lay with me, but there it is none the less…

So once I get the water temperature adjusted, I go to adjust the shower spray/pressure…and then it happens….as the pressure increases…the showerhead starts to raise up on its!! Since the showerhead can’t stay at the same angle since the tightner thing is broken, it starts to fly up and go straight at the back wall – and since its so high because the vertical thing won’t untighten – the water is now spraying straight at the back wall of the bathroom almost to the ceiling. It cascading down all over the place since it’s a tile wall and the pressure is so high that makes the water just bounce all over the place!!!!!!

And the knobs are in different directions here – there’s not so much the righty tighty standard, so it takes me a second or two to get the water back off!!!

Lets just say – it was not a pleasant situation…but it did happen a couple days ago, so I’m at the point that I can laugh about it now.

Needless to say, I took a quick, pressureless shower all huddled under the showerhead so as not to get everything else in the bathroom wet.

Update – I’ve contact the landlord and he will be fixing the shower unit post haste. I am also looking to find a shower rod and curtain….

So its off to the Superbowl I go!! Kickoff is only at like 11:30pm here – no biggie! The pub was mostly all Americans and we were all one in our love for the pigskin that night. I won’t lie either – the whole place broke out into song when the Nat’l Anthem came on and then again when Tom Petty did Free Fallin’!

So the 4th quarter was the best part of the game and we stayed to the last seconds. Then Thaddeus and I (he’s from Seattle – don’t let the name fool you) and I decided to head home together and share a cab since he has a flat like 3 blocks from my new place. So we start walking in our general direction assuming we would find a cab – or one would find us – relatively quickly.

Hmm…this sounds strangely like my evening before…apparently I don’t learn my lessons the easy way….

No can do for the tubes - they close at midnight. So off we go…and go…and go…OH man!! We were walking for like 40 minutes!! It was so cold! And we kept thinking we would find a cab soon, so we didn’t call for one. Besides, if we called for one, then we would have to stay in one place for about 20 minutes until one came to us! So we kept walking! Thankfully Thaddeus has a decent sense of direction. It was late, and I was tired, and we were in an area I was unfamiliar with – so I was of no use to the directional efforts. Anyway, long story short, we left the pub at 3:10 and I got back to my place at 4:15, and we did end up getting a cab, too. We were generally going in the right direction, but we walked a bit too far north and not enough east.

Bringing us to Monday….which, thankfully since my little fingers are tired of typing was a bit uneventful…

I started the day off with a crappy shower and headed out to work on a measly 4 hours of sleep….how did I do this in college?!!?

So here are a few email excerpts that chronicle my day:

From Rebecca, the letting agent at 2:45pm: “I am not sure if you are around today but a neighbour has reported a gas smell from your house, we have booked a contractor to go in as soon as possible just in case it is a leak. I just wanted to make sure it would be OK and to see if you were around to collect the keys?”

From Gemma, the shipping agent at 3:18pm: There has been a slight delay with the vessel, and the shipment is now due to arrive tomorrow evening. I will be in touch with my agent again on Wednesday morning to confirm the arrival and I'll let you know as soon as I have a response.

From Rebecca, the letting agent at 3:21 pm: The Landlord does have a spare set of keys so they are going to enter via his keys with the plumber, to be honest I wouldn’t worry about it too much as we did complete a gas safety check back in November which came back OK so there shouldn’t be any worries.

So once I call Rebecca around 4ish, she informs me that, in fact, there was no gas leak, the landlord’s wife left HER hobb (oven) on and that was the cause of the smell…lovely.

Finally, that brings us up to speed for today…..

7:50am – call from the letting agent saying that the delivery people for my couch and chair called to tell them that they might be around prior to 8am

Oh crap – I wasn’t even up yet!! They could be here any minute!! Must find something other than PJs to answer the door in!! Is my hair sticking straight up?

8:00am – no sign of them

And I can’t get in the shower, but I need to be in at 9am today for a meeting – a meeting I’m running, so I can’t be late!

8:30am – so still no delivery guys….if I get in the shower now, I can possibly make it to work in 50 minutes and be on time for my 9:30

8:40 – AAHAHAHAH Where are these stupid illiterate freaks who can’t tell time? Did they think they were in a different time zone or what – which 8am were they referring to?!?!

8:45 – OK, sod it – I am going to wash my face and hair and be done with it. I can still make it out the door by 9.

9am – still no delivery men – using the term men loosely now since a real man knows how to tell time – no thoughts to disparaging these men!!

9:05am – have left a message for the letting agent – and am on the way to the tube.

9:29am – into the office, drop off my stuff and straight into my meeting.

11:15am – call from the letting agent – the delivery deviants finally arrived around 9:30 – obviously not 8am!! The chair went in fine, but they had a “spot” of trouble with the couch – didn’t fit through the door!! Then to make matters worse, the agent tells me that the delivery guys were like 18 years old, and totally inept – see I knew it! – and not only were they not able to fit the couch through the door – they got it stuck sooo bad that they had to call a couple of the guys from the office to come help them unstick it!!

Apparently not only do they have trouble with numbers and time, they obviously are not spatial thinkers either – do they not teach geometry here?!?!

Update - So now a new couch and chair have been ordered and hopefully the chair can be delivered in a couple days – this would be nice since the only place to sit in the entire flat right now is my bed! The couch, though, is not coming for like a week…they say this is because it has to be made…I believe this might be an argument for the need to have ample stock on hand! The table and chairs are on their way, but we are looking at a week for their delivery as well. Granted – I am really glad that all this stuff is brand new – but maybe, I’m just pointing out here, that possibly, there might have been an opportunity to have this settled all before I moved in….just maybe.

So there you have it, in summary, the flat is great, I haven’t taken a decent shower in 3 days, my bathroom floor is spotless due to the flooding…I mean…cleaning that I gave it, there is nowhere to sit and might not be for a couple days, but that’s OK, since there’s no TV to watch either.

Somehow, though, I am laughing as I write this and it seems more crazy than annoying and I wonder how it seems that nothing is ever really easy for me…nit that its always hard mind you…its not…its just not ever smooth is all…but then again smooth is so boring…..

Just Say No...

So I have a little bit of a cold right now....no biggie? Just get some meds over the counter and back to normal in a few days....right?

WRONG!!!!

So the other night, I stood there transfixed by the drug selection at the Boots Pharmacy (Rite Aid, CVS, etc). Only one brand - Vicks - was familiar. So after reading the labels on a few of them and realizing that NONE of them - not even the Vicks - had any drug cocktail that I could recognize, let alone pronounce!! Then there was a whole new world of potential symptoms that I could choose from to be relieved of:

chesty cough

sluggish head

stuffed head

achy bits (they use the term bits over here for everything!)

raspy throat

sore throat - yes!! I know that one!! that’s what I have!!

feverish body ...huh?

blocked nose

runny nose - this one I did obviously recognize, but I didn't think runny was a real word!

Then the list of what the drugs could cure was no less confusing;

productive coughs

clear heads

cooling off...yeah - what? I'm not buying a gun! I have a cold!

clear head

stopped nose

Yeah - this is what I had to choose from - and the look that is on your face - that was exactly how I looked, only I looked a bit more pathetic because it was raining and my nose was all read cuz it was runny and I was blowing it...and lets just say that with the headache I had as well, my patients wasn't at an all time high to be trying to play Sherlock Holmes with the meds - just give me drugs!!

So once I had a pretty good idea of my symptoms, and what I wanted relieved, then it was on to ingredients checking. The most common drug found in almost all of them was Guaifenesin and Paracetamol.

Where is Goggle when I need it?!?!

Since these mean nothing to me, then I went looking for the warning...

Apparently the alerts here are more in gear with the London lifestyle....

Nothing about operating machinery or driving (no one here drives - we all take the tube)

No excessive drinking....huh? Does that mean take your chesty cough meds with a little liquor but not a lot? What’s their classification of a lot? I don't think I want to know what an Englishman really thinks a lot of drinking would be...especially when their on drugs for a fevery body!

And here is the one that really got me....

Do not take this product with any other similar products....excuse me?!!? Can we get some clarification here? Do you consider all cough meds similar? Can I take throat lozenges with the cough syrup? Is that similar? What happens if I take similar meds? Did we not think to put the consequences on the box only the warning?!?

I just want some Nightquil and Dayquil!!! Is that too much to ask?!?!

Everything they had - and I mean EVERY SINGLE THING - was the non drowsy formula!! What’s up with that?!!?

'Hey, Tif...why didn't you ask the pharmacist?" I know that is a question that is on your mind....it was one of my first thoughts as well.

But to put it nicely, the "pharmacist" had pink hair and was younger than me...young enough like I think her mom dropped her off at work young....and she didn't speak the queen's English so well...or any other form of English....or any guttural sounds that I could maybe think might have been mumbled English!!!

This was not going so well....

So in hopes of not ODing on some foreign drug, I grabbed the Vicks that toughed relief from chesty coughs, achy parts and hurting heads. It had the drug that started with the P but not a lot of it, so I figured it was a good place to start.

It’s Vicks - it said GlaxoSmithKline on the box - how bad could it be?

Not bad at all....but not good either!!! It was basically honey flavoured children’s strength cough syrup! That’s a rip off!

So come to find out (after googling it the minute I walked in the door) Parawhatever that I mentioned about is basically Acetamitaphin...aspirin!! I could have take aspirin and gotten the same effect! How does aspirin cure chesty coughs?!?!

So I suffered a little through the night...that was Wednesday night.

I get to work on Thursday and I can only assume I wasn't looking my best. "Oh dear! Are you OK to be here?" Asks my boss.

Hmmm....I thought I was actually looking better, but apparently I misjudged that in my stuffed head state.

"Here," she says as she hands me a packet of pills, "these are quite lovely for a cold."

Ok - it’s my boss. the pills were in a little punch cards thing - like in the states - not label, but they came with a lovely recommendation....how bad could it be?

I made it through the day and was starting to feel quite lovely in fact.

I was taking my new meds every 4 hours and was thinking I was through the worst of it.

I get home in the evening, have a little dinner, take another pill, read a bit, then lay down to go to sleep....hmmm....not tired and its 10:30 and I'm sick?!?! Bizarre..

ok, laying here and still not tired, not even a yawn....11:03

11:42...maybe I'll just see if there is anything on TV (they call it the tellie here, but I can't get used to that - the tellie, if anything, is a phone to me!)

12:42....hmmmm...can't believe I am not tired! But am starting to get a bit stuffed up again...better take another pill since I'm awake.

1:38...Oh look!! They get Leno over here!!!

2:02....Is the writers strike not over yet? I can tell from the guests that this is a newer episode, but Leno is not really funny..."This product contains trace amounts of caffeine."

Trace amounts?!!? I know that there are many conversions to do here....currency, temperature, volume, etc....but does the term 'trace amount' not convert correctly?

Apparently "trace amount of caffeine" here in the UK is the US equivalent to popping espresso beans and washing them down with Jolt cola!!!!

I have no idea when I fell asleep....it was early though....

Luckily, though, I am now on the relaxed non-caffeinated road to recovery. After finally finding an pharmacist who was of age with a hair colour that God created, I have found that Beachum All in One capsule are the best thing for fighting Headache, blocked nose, sore throat and chesty coughs...and there is no caffeine.