It could have been worst…we could have been attacked by the swans

This past weekend, I decided that, in an effort to get ready for my upcoming kayaking trip in Greece, I better brush up on my kayaking skills. Its been about 5 years since I have even been in a kayak, and even then, it was just a few afternoon excursions with some friends - no destination, no need for any sort of education…just a few afternoons of fun on the water. I will also mention that those few afternoons were on sea kayaks…this tidbit comes into play later on.

Since there are no real kayaking groups or anything of the sort in London - odd since London is on a river, but whatever - I located an adventure and outdoor outfit that boasted great 1 on 1 afternoon lessons with experienced instructors on a beautiful lake close to the heart of London….hindsight being 20/20, every word of that sentence proved to be, by English standards, a stretch of the imagination and by American standards, an outright lie.

As the big day drew near, the weather, in typical English style, wavered between a sunny forecast and possible rain. A friend gave me some great advice when I first moved here, 'If you let the rain get to you, you'll never leave your flat!' I've tried to keep this in mind, and have learned to not even notice the intermittent drizzle.

In preparation, I received seemingly direct directions from the coordinator. I also talked Josh, my American friend and exploring buddy into coming along for the fun of it.

Everything seemed to be falling into place and it looked like I was on track to have a great afternoon on the water!!

But as you may have gleaned from my past blog misadventures, things do not usually go smooth or as planned with me.

I woke up Saturday morning to a torrential downpour.

I could not find my water resistant capris…the ones that I love!!

Since craziness happens in 3s…I was just waiting for the next thing to pop up…though, in all honesty, I've really come to enjoy the craziness and chaos that usually accompanies my careful planning….

Around 10ish, the rain stopped, though and while the sun didn't come out, the rain was holding off, so that is as much as any Londoner can ask for.

I packed my rucksack (backpack), filled my water bottle, called Josh to make sure he was out of bed, and headed to the tube station to meet up.

Oh - I have to interject here about my rucksack contents. We've covered this before, so when instructed on what to bring in my kit, I knew exactly what they were talking about!! But then when I looked at the kit list, I started to wonder what kind of 2 hour session this would be….the S.S. Minnow was only out for a 3 hour tour and I don't think they had this much stuff onboard!!

Recommended Kit contents for the 2 hour kayaking session:

Jacket / waterproofs

Plastic bag to store wet clothes

Sun hat / High factor sun block

Umbrella (I am guessing either you need the sun block or the umbrella)

Large towel

Spare trainers (sneakers)

Something to tie back long hair

No jewellery (since this attracts fish?)

Any medication you are taking and may need to take while climbing. (Climbing what? Over each other in a mad dash for the kayaks?)

A bottle of water

A packed lunch

Flask of hot drink (are they assuming we will capsize and need hot drink? What kind of drink are they referring to that would require a flask to be contained in….drinking and kayaking don't seem to go together in my mind…there's laws about that in the states)

Wet wipes and tissues (I don't even want to know)

A bag for your rubbish (how much rubbish could you have in 2 hours…how much could you bring in that packed lunch?)

A waterproof camera (now I don't want to point out the obvious here, but this is a kayak lesson…if you have a camera, and you want to have it ready to use at a moments notice…where are you putting it? In your lap…capsize and say good bye….around your wrist…paddling will prove a bit clumsy….and what are you taking pictures of anyway…its only 2 hours on a lake for a lesson…are these really Kodak moments?)

What I actually packed:

My water bottle

A change of dry clothes

A granola bar

An umbrella

My cell phone

My wallet

A towel

And I wore a waterproof windbreaker

So off I go to the tube station. I met up with Josh and we made a little snack stop before we headed out.

We get on the train, only to find it absolutely packed!! Come to find out that the football (soccer) premiership (aka English super bowl) is just a week away and all the playoff games are going on - at Wembley Stadium, which is the way we were headed.

Luckily we found free seats and after 4 stops, we passed the stadium and practically had the train to ourselves.

The first indication that I should have guessed that the lake was not 'close to the heart of London' was that it was in zone 6…I have lived in London and have never been further than zone 4…I didn't realize that there ever were 6 zones…and, come to find out, there are actually 9 zones in total!! It’s like if I were in the states, in Pittsburgh, cranberry would be zone 9! That’s a long way from zone 1 where I am!!

Nonetheless, zone 6 was only a mere 14 stops from where we got on, so 40 minutes later, we are at the Uxbridge station! I was instructed by Val, the kayak coordinator, that 'from the Uxbridge station, get the U9 bus that will stop on request at Dewes Lane, from there it is only a 600 metre walk to the lake."

How hard can that be???

We exit the station and spot the bus stop for U9! The train ride took a little longer than I had anticipated, so I called the coordinator, told her we were a bit late and would be there in about 15 minutes. She said no problem, if we were at the station we would be there in no time.

Josh and I were a little confused, I will admit, with the concept of the 'bus will stop on request'. In London, the bus would not stop in between stops if you went into labour, fell to the ground unconscious, or suddenly burst into flames!! Stop upon request? Were they serious? Granted, when we stepped off the train, I did comment that it didn't feel like we were in London anymore…it felt more like…well…what I would think Iowa is like…we were out there. So maybe they do stop when you ask them to here?

So the bus pulls up and I politely ask to be dropped off at Dewes Lane…and I get a look that clearly says this guy has never heard of Dewes Lane. Hillingdon Lake? Still getting the same glazed and confused look….

Never fear!! From behind me comes a small voice, "Where ya trying to get to sweets?" I turn to find a girl of about 18 looking at me. I tell her and she assures me that I am on the right bus. Josh and I get on and sit down and she comes over and starts whipping off directions to us. She starts talking about little alleys and side streets and blah blah blah….

Josh and I just looked at each other when she walked away…."Um, did she actually tell us where to get off the bus, though" I asked. "No" said Josh. "Oh, well maybe she'll let us know when we get close."

Sure enough, we go past a few stops and she comes up and says that this is where we want to get off….odd since it was a real stop and the directions said we had to ask to be let off? Another indicator could have been that we could overhear her and her boyfriend talking the entire time and he kept saying that he had never heard of the place…curious thing that.

So we get off the bus and look at each other a little confused…this kinda doesn't feel right…we frogger our way across the road and start out following her directions…only to learn very soon that we are no where near where we need to be…we don't know where we are…or where we need to get to, but we aren't there….

We call the coordinator lady…she has never heard of the street where we are and asks if we passed the dogs trust? The what? Dogs Trust…no idea what that is, but Josh saw a sign for it, so we must have passed it.

Back across the street we go….the next bus comes and I ask, since I like exercises in futility, if he knows where Dewes Lane is. Same blank look…. How about the Dogs Trust? "Oh!! You've not gotten there yet, get the bus on the other side and it will take you right there!"

Back across the street….another wait for the bus….

Since I learn my lessons the hard way…"Do you stop at Dewes Lane?"

Blank look!!!!

"The dogs Trust?"

"Right luv, hop on, its up aways."

We cover about 5 more kilometres and are truly out in the country now. What was that girl thinking? Was the alley she referred to some sort of body transported like on star trek?...cause there is no way that an alley could have taken us here!!!

The bus drops us off and the driver tells me that to get home, we just wait on the other side of the road and hail the bus…again - totally unheard of in London!!

We walk down this lane, past some sort of backwoods mechanic shop…we start to get a feeling like there might be banjo players about or something… then the lane finally breaks out and we see a whole recreational area ahead.

The lake, about the size of a large parking lot at a mall or something…just one side of the mall, though, not the entire lot…lays ahead of us.

And there were kids everywhere….if you know me, you know I've just rolled my eyes.

We make our way over to the log cabin - the designated meet point - only about 45 minutes late - and meet our illustrious guide.

The man looked a bit out of sorts…to put it nicely…I think maybe its possible he bathed in the lake water, which would explain the state of his hair (aka wild man meets a cyclone look). Also, he would have looked like the rugged outdoors type had he weighted more than, say…a boy scout.

Anyway, we exchange pleasantries and he asks if we are ready or if we needed to change? Now, I suddenly had flashes of my mother asking if I am going to wear that? What does he mean do we need to change? Clearly he is implying that we need to, but we are both in waterproof pullovers, old shoes and waterproof pants…what else did he think we needed to have on? We're here for a 2 hour lesson, not a 2 week outward bound adventure….

Oh…clearly this is what he meant….he pulls off his shirt and jacket and starts to outfit himself in a wetsuit….how wet does he plan to get? I don't plan to get too wet, here, so I think that is a bit unnecessary….whatever….

We get a little overview of the basics, then hit the water.

Now, I'm not saying it was completely the kayak that was the issue, but for nearly 2 hours, I basically went in circles to the left. Try as I might, paddle as I may, I would go straight for a bit, then sure enough, I would start to turn in circles to the left.

We were on river kayaks which are a lot different from sea kayaks…and much harder to manage, but still! I remember my last kayak outings as being fun and relaxing…this was for the birds!!! I am not worried about Greece, though. I am going kayaking - sea kayaking - again the weekend after next and I am sure it will be a much better time.

Anyway, Paul, our instructor extraordinaire takes us through some techniques and around the little lake and shows us a few tricks. One said trick almost made me tip - I even took on a little water!!! Close call!!!

Tricks you ask? Yes Tricks. Why do you call them tricks? As Josh so eloquently put it…'they are tricks since I can't seem to do them' Truer words were never spoken

We go about for a while and make our way towards the far bank…towards some swans. Side note, I accidentally called them geese and poor Paul about had a stroke…SORRY!!! Didn't know the English were so touchy about their birds.

So to set the stage, I am closest to the bank, but looking away from the bank, Paul is about 10 metres away from me, facing me, and Josh is about 15 metres past Paul, also facing me.

Paul begins to tell us a story about swans and how they attacked a friend of his. He suddenly becomes animated in this retelling and I was almost afraid he would tip…plus I can see Josh, but Paul can't and he is making all kinds of faces and hand gestures behind Paul - making me laugh all the harder - making Paul think I find his story funny…in all honesty, the wind was whipping a bit, and I only heard about every 5th word of the story! But the harder I laughed at Josh, the more Paul thought I was laughing at his story – talk about a vicious cycle!!!

Anyway, we finally make our way back to shore…even with my circular direction!! We successfully extract ourselves from the kayaks – without tipping!!!

We switch into dry clothes, say our thanks and good byes to Paul and call it a day.

Back up the lane we go…seriously wondering if a bus will really stop if we just wave at it. In London a bus won’t stop for you if you lay down in front of it!! Also, we were curious to see what a dog trust is. We had gotten off the bus and headed down the lane so quickly that we hadn’t really looked.

As it turns out, a Dog Trust is the equivalent of the SPCA in the US. I think it might be a bit nicer, though, since it was set out in the country and it looked like the dogs had a place to run and play…but what do I know?…I’m not really a dog person, but it seemed like a decent place for a dog to end up.

So we only had to wait for about 1 minute – perfect timing!! – and the bus comes rumbling around the corner.

Slight problem – we haven’t crossed the road yet!! In London, this would be no question – you missed the bus. Not so in Uxbridge!! The driver looks over at us and we wave and he nods and winks, pulls over and waits for us to cross the road and hop on!!

What?!?! Has the bus fairy blessed up out here? Have I become so accustomed to the London transportation system and it’s consistently crazy idiosyncrasies?

Apparently so….

Also, as it turns out, it is one of the three bus drivers that we used to get to this place!! We couldn’t remember which one he was, but he remembered us and seemed not so surprised that this is where we were….interesting….

Back to Uxbridge we go, all the while commenting about Little Miss Helpful with the bad sense of direction…how did she think we would get to that lake from where she told us to get off at?!?!? Crazy!!

But it could have been worse….we could have gotten attacked by the swans!!

Row, row, row your boat....

In all of my short 31 years on this earth, I have never displayed any competitive spirit. I have no desire to compete...at anything really. I mean honestly, I just never have seen the point in beating someone at something. If I can do something, then good for me…do I need to do it better than someone or anyone else…not really. I always sort of feel bad for those competition junkies that have to win at anything and everything…I just let them. For some reason that is obviously lost on me, they NEED to win...I don't so I let them.

Point in fact, for 3 years throughout college, I played racquetball every Tuesday night…and I never won a single game. Was it because I was bad? No. Was it because I had no idea what I was doing? No. Was it because I wasn't as fast as my opponent? No. It was for one reason only…my opponent needed to win.

I was in it for the social factor. I just wanted to get out and play ball once a week, get a good workout, and touch base with a good friend since our class and work schedules didn't allow too much free time. Did I ever feel bad about it? No!

The first time that we ever played, I scored the first few points and all the sudden I was seeing a new side of my friend….and it was not pretty. So at some point that first match, I started to pull back a bit…miss a return here…hit below the line there. What difference did it make? I was breaking a sweat, we were having a good time, and its not like I was trying to qualify for the Olympics or anything (is there racquetball in the Olympics? Maybe not - but you get my point).

I am a firm believer that for every poor loser there is a poor winner as well.

I have won my share of racquetball matches since then and had just as much fun since the people I was playing with were like me and didn't care which of us won so long as it was a good game.

I believe now, though, that my competitive spirit lay dormant through all these years though. I believe that it may have been due to the fact that I have never really found the thing that I needed to win at.

Until now.

Until rowing…(said in a voice full of reverence and determination)

Granted, I have never really rowed in my life…outside of the occasional afternoon kayak outing…but when presented with the possibility that I may get cut from the Sons of the Thames Novice Rowing Team (admittedly a sport that I have no experience in and an activity for which I only joined in an effort to meet people and get a fun workout) I have decided that this possibility is just not acceptable!

So here's the deal….a month ago I decided to meet up with a friend from the states in Athens and do a week long kayak trip thought the Greek Islands in July. Even though I had been working with a personal trainer and holding my own in the gym for the past couple months, I decided I needed to throw something new in the mix…and those of you that know me know that when I decide to do something…the small scale never seems to be my first option. So I thought to myself, I like the golf and tennis leagues that I was in when I lived back in the states, so there must be something I can get involved with here in London.

Golf was out since lugging the sticks through the tube on a weekly basis didn't sound like fun. Tennis was out since I tried in vain, but have yet to find any local leagues (surprising since I am 8 miles from the tennis capital of the world). So then I thought...as I was on the rowing machine in the gym one night…that I like the rowing machine - what about a rowing league?

Thus began my search for a rowing club. I mean honestly, this is England, weren't rowing and sculling created here? So I hopped on Goggle and found about 15 local rowing clubs.

Hmmm…which one to call first? Which one would be blessed with my amateur rowing prowess? How do I choose? Which clubs are close? Which clubs only require me to change tubes once to get there?

7 calls down the list and I was a bit frustrated, though. Apparently many of these clubs are not so welcoming of the beginner rowers…really, how is one to become a good rower if no one will teach them!?!?

5 more emails proved to the same result…well, 3 emails really since 2 of them never responded…and I finally found the Sons of the Thames Club. They are an old, but small club that 'welcomes new rowers'!! Plus - and bonus points here - they are as much a social club as a competitive club!!

These are my people!!! Social rowers!!

So I signed up and waited patiently for the first practice day…3 weeks away!!

This past week, I was like a kid waiting for Christmas! I was so excited!! What would it be like? Would there be nice people there? Would I make friends? Would the boat capsize? What would I wear? What do rowers wear? Would they look at me and think, 'Wow, look at her! She's a natural!! I thought an American wouldn't be able to row - but just look at her!! Do you think she would want to be the 4th for this weekends regatta?!?!'

Then the email came…

The email from Don, the organiser (no - not misspelled - they don't use z's over here like we do in the US) of the novice group, stated that there had been such an overwhelming response for this years spring session that they were going to make the 1st three practices would be land based - using the rowing machines to learn technique, learning the safety stuff….yada yada yada…. Then, there in black and white, 'after which time assessments will be made and some of the participants will be asked to continue with the training sessions for the team.'

WHAT!?!?

Now, I have come to love the way in which the English seem to add so many descriptive terms to a sentence that they turn the intended negative into an slight positive - just last night on the news a knife that was found at the scene of a fatal stabbing was described as 'a rather large and definitely effective instrument of death'…kudos to the knife for being effective…forget the pesky death reference.

But this was a bit much! Did he just say he was going to cut the dead weight? Slice off the fat? Only the strong will survive?!?!

Well, not me!! I, novice though I am, will not be cut!! And thus it was discovered…I am competitive!

Now I was worried…how many people had signed up - the nerve of them all! What skill level did they have? Where they really novices, or would I be up against a bunch of weekend rowers looking to join a club since all the other clubs turned them down!?!? Oh man!!! The pressure!!

Fast forward 3 days…4 sessions in the gym...25000 metres rowed on the ergo machine…3 miles run through the streets of Germany and London (I was in Germany on business when I got the bad news - thankfully I had thrown my sneakers in the bag!)…and Saturday was upon me!!

I awoke at 9am and immediately hopped on the net to figure out the best route to get to the club…tube or bus? Definitely the tube…which line? Hammersmith or District? Which station? When to leave? How much time to allow for? Any planned weekend work on the lines?

If Wheaties is the breakfast of champions…does that include rowing champions? Do they have Wheaties in the UK? OH NO!! No Wheaties at the grocer!!! What would the breakfast of a rower be?!?! This little wannabe rower ended up having some yogurt, a banana and a granola bar.

Now I have to pack a kit….what is a kit?!?! The email said bring a 'kit suitable for gym workouts' I assume 'kit' is the same as 'stuff' right? I did well on my SATs and I remember the context clue stuff in the comprehension section…I think a kit is the same as stuff…better Google it though…don’t want to be the only one that didn't know what a kit was…even though I probably am, but they don't need to know that! I mean, really, what would happen if I assumed kit was the same as stuff and then it turns out that kit means something totally different and I didn't know it, didn’t bring the right thing…and BAM! Off the team!!

Thanks Google - 'kit' is totally the same as 'stuff'!!

But I don't want to ride the tube the whole way there in my workout clothes…if we’re working out, then I'll be all sweaty, so I'll need to shower and change before I hop the tube home…better just throw everything in a rucksack (backpack) and be done with it!!

Time check…1pm..heading out the door!! On time as usual!! Need to be there by 2 and I should even be a little early.

Score!! The tube is on time!! Its like all the signs are pointing to a good practice!!

Changing lines…from the District line to the other District line…yeah - there are 2 district lines in London - one goes halfway around the city, then the other one branches off down to the south west of the city, but to get to the southwest one, you have to get off the other one…who plans this stuff?

Time check…1:25….two stops to go…I am golden!!!

1:35 and I am getting off at the tube stop!

Uh oh…which road is the one I need? I think its this way….

Hmm…this doesn't feel right….

Uh oh…time is ticking…oh! Let me ask this woman!

DANGER WILL ROBIN DANGER!!!

In London…NEVER, NEVER…did I say NEVER ask an older person for directions!!!

Old lady with the shopping bag on wheels proceeds to tell me which way to go….then another way to go…then something about a path and around a garden!?!

HUH??!? Something about Mr. Riley's house?

I GOTS TO GO!!!

I have basically gleaned that I was heading the wrong direction…all I needed to know lady!!!

Can't be rude, though…but time is ticking and I can't be late for the first practice!!!

She's saying something about a bakery with the 'loovly' muffins, not the one with that used to be a sad little tailor…her incredible powers of observation for routes does not carry over to observations of people…since she does not observe I am not paying attention!! I am on the balls of my feet, itching to run, like a kid who needs to go pee! I must end this madness!!!

'Ok, I think I have it now…around the path at Mr. Riley's garden, past the bakery, look for Ravencourt Rd. Thanks!!

This is all said with a wave and a slow trop off in the right direction.

Off subject a bit here, but it must be said, that at any time when you ask a proper englishman/woman for directions…you will get everything but!

'How do you get to Pith's Corner?'

'When do you need to get there?'

'Now'

'Now? Well, if you needed to get there now, I'd have left long before this! Yesterday, say! You could take the A4, but with this being the 3rd Tuesday of the 8th month, that means Mr. Hadley's taking the goats to market and you're be hard pressed if you get behind him. Now you could take the A12 to Suddlershire and then take the roundabout and that the shortcut past hedgerow on the old parson's green…not the one on the field to the left…..'

And so it goes for 30 minutes or so and by the end you could have 5 strangers or passersby involved in the task!

Anyway, so back on track to the club house!!

Time check 1:40…almost there, just 2 blocks to go!

Uh…what the?!?!

I have just walked down a seemingly quiet side street and come upon a 3 lane major highway…with a sidewalk!!! This should be an exit onto I95, not a side street!!! Are these city planners on crack?!!? I need to get across this highway to the rest of the quiet side street on the other side!!

Hmmm…there has to be an over or under pass!! 50/50 chance…which way do I go??

YEAH!!! 40 yards down, there is an underpass and I am back on track!

Is that the Thames?!? Yes!!! I am so close!!!

There it is!! Linden House!! That’s the club house!!!

1:45!! Take that old lady with the rolling shopping bag - there was no path, no garden and no bakery…and she made no mention of a major highway!

So I introduce myself to the first person I see and strike up a conversation. Turns out Sari is one of the coordinators of the novice team I ask her where the locker room is and she is headed that way as well!

The first person I see could have a say in the cut decisions…better make friends!!

Um…this is the most disgusting room I have ever been in! It has the feel of a mud room neglected! There are 'wellies' (barn boots) lining floor around the parameter of the space. There is a smell that suggests something might have died…awhile ago. Thankfully there is a walkway of wooden planks in front of the benches. I set my rucksack down and happen to brush against the wall…it was wet…like when you get out of the shower and you had it too hot so all the walls in the bathroom are sweating…it was like that, but I didn't see a shower stall, so I just tried not to think how the walls would be like that…didn't something like that happen in the Amityville Horror?

I hurry up and change…dancing on one foot the whole time so as not to actually touch the floor…or bench…or walls…or really anything at all in the room….but all the while trying to make pleasant conversation with Sari so I don't get cut!! Talk about grace under pressure!!!

Then the thought pops in my head…after 6 months or so of being a rower, will I not notice the sweaty walls? Do I want to become a person that doesn't notice sweaty walls?

Upstairs we head to the meeting room for the start of practice.

Oh my!! There are a lot of people here! Half of these better be the club members or I have serious competition!!

I feel like the Greek God in the corner might be too beautiful to row, and then there is the chick in the corner that looks like she is on something and maybe she is too jittery to keep the rhythm of the rowing? That kid in over there looks like he's 12!! Did his mother sign a release form for him?!?! No, you have to be 18 to join - the disclaimer said so! Those 2 over there have on white sweaters and white shorts…did they mean to go to cricket practice and get the wrong address?

Is it wrong for me to mentally check people off the list of possible team members? Oh well…to err is human to judge is divine…or something like that….doe sit matter?

Oh my!! Is this what its like to get mentally psyched for competition? I am so competitive now!! Who am I!?!?

So now the club President has started to speak and give some introductory comments and an overview of the club and the next few practices.

Then he gets into the schpeal about cuts again!!

Now we are getting broken up into three groups; 1 to go over the basics of rowing and look at the boats, 1 to go to the rowing machines and learn technique; 1 to go for a run.

WHAT?!!? A run!!! I hate to run!!! I am so not a runner!! I am so slow!! The stamina to run around all day deserted me about the same time I lost my baby teeth!! What does running have to do with rowing!?!? I am so cut now!!!

My first station is to go to the rowing machines…and contemplate the time until I have to run!

As it turns out, I am a bit of a natural with the rowing machine!! I had a few bad habits that seemed to fix themselves with a little coaching. Turns out that the reason I can row so much on the rowing machine on the gym is because I am not really doing it right… Also turns out that when you do it right - it is absolutely exhausting…but in a good way…so I still like rowing.

Hopefully this natural rowing talent will put me high on the 'lets not cut them' list and make up for the low scores I get in running!!

After about 20 minutes, we switch station and it is upon me…the running.

OK - I am mentally psyched for this…I can do this….how far are we going?

4k?!?! Quick math….10k is 6 miles…5k is 3 miles…2.5k is 1.5 miles…so we are going like 2/2.5 miles?

OK….this is doable…I can do 2 miles…but I run/walk it!!! I HATE RUNNING!!! I do it, but I hate it!!

Off we go!! I am all about the pace…slow and steady wins the race…that’s like a proven fact!! The front of the pack raced off like they were being chased by the hounds of hell!

I hope they burn out quick…showing off so they don't get cut….they'll burn out and I'll slowly run past them thanks to my slow and steady pace!!

Oh man…is that crazy lady with the short shorts and bum pack (fanny pack) running her perky self over my way?!!?

So is now talking to me…I think she expects an answer! Is she out of her mind? Can she not see I am trying to breathe enough that I don't pass out...I can not waste break on talking!!

Chatty Cathy…take it down a notch!! I am only catching about half of what she is saying and trying to be nice since I've learned in business that 'it's who you know, not what you can do sometimes' and I hope that applies to rowing teams, too!!

Be nice…talk…be nice….turning blue here….think we are about half way….this is usually when I switch to walking…be nice…she's saying something about her knees…thankfully there is one other person behind me!

Oh, did I mention one chic didn't even attempt to do the run!! One down!!

Ok - that has got to be at least a few k's….and I am walking now since my side is on fire!!!

Chatty Cathy is still chatting away…

Ok - turning around now!! Half way there!!!

There are now a couple people behind me!! I can't believe I am this competitive!!!

OK…almost back to the clubhouse…I think I want to hurl…that wouldn't look good though…

DONE!!! THANK YOU LORD for allowing me not to passout, have a heart attack or throw up and make a spectacle of myself!!!

On to the boat overview….yes, that’s the boat….stern…bow…oars…

Oh question in the back….hmmm…she barely speaks English…the instructor has had to ask her to repeat her question several times…you really ought to be able to speak the language to be on the team…I an not believe I am having these thoughts….but honestly, how would you understand the rest of the team?!?!

Oh, she is asking how to spell bow and stern? Interesting.

More info….another question…

'Will we get wet?' Is she for real!?!? She realized the boat comes off the trailer and goes in the water right? She is so cut….

'Um, well, the Thames is pretty contaminated, right?'

Instructor guy; "Yeah, but as long as you aren't drinking the water and bathing in it, you'll be fine." (said with a slight smile and a hint of sarcasm)

'Um, what if you have an open sore on your foot and you're in the water - could it get infected?'

Hold the breaks there Sore Sally!! What's the deal? This is not a hypothetical question I think…do you have a sore? Is it so progressed that you are worried of infection? This is specifically the reason that I hopped on one foot in that skeevy changing room - so I wouldn't catch anything!!! SHE BETTER GET CUT!!

Finally practice was over….yeah - not getting a shower here thank you very much…no chance of me running the risk of catching anything for Sore Sally in the changing room (aka disease breeding ground). I'll sweat my way home thank you very much…I'm sure the homeless smell worse than me on the tube, so whatever!

Most of us head up to the social room to hang out a bit…this is exactly what I was looking for! Hanging out with my mates after a hard rowing practice…taking about rowing things and such….

Yeah, I now totally see myself with this crowd...still not touching the sweaty walls in the changing room….but grabbing a pint and discussing the days evens nonetheless!

I did end up meeting a few people; Aaron the kid that I thought was about 12, but turns out he is early 20s and is an accountant; Nicola who has the same views of running and the changing room as myself; and Pierre (not actually Pierre, but I can't remember his name, and he's French, so it's Pierre until I learn differently) who is new to London as well.

So thus begins my illustrious rowing career….tomorrow night is practice number 2….we shall see how this goes…

Hopefully a few less people show and that means less to cut! Oh man…this competitive spirit is unreal!!

The taxi driver doesn't need any more friends...

Once again, I find myself spending some quality time in Berlin. Granted, I really do like this city - the limited parts that I've seen, but like many other places I have been, there is one commonality that will get you every time…the taxi ride.

I have found (the hard way) that unless you look like a local, act like a local and speak like a local…you are a taxi driver's dream. They assume you have no idea where you're going - hence the taxi; they assume that you won't know that they are driving you the long way there; finally, they assume that when they hear the American accent (yes, novel idea, but all Americans have an accent, not just the southerners and the Texans) that you have no idea what to tip them…so you will overtip…CHA CHING!!

To avoid any and all issues with taxis…follow 4 simple rules no matter where you are in the world:

1 - What happens in the taxi stays in the taxi…you will never see that driver again…and even if you do…he/she will not remember you…and even if they do…what do you care? Now the caveat here would be that I might divulge some experiences (mine and others) below, but I will change the names of those involved…unless its me, then, refer to the above…I don't care.

2 - The approach or hailing of the taxi is key - it sets the whole tone for the adventure. First and foremost, look like you don't need a ride. Don't be waving your hands and dancing in the street - the taxi will speed up and the driver will laugh as he flies past. The harder the rain, the more animated your gestures, the harder the taxi driver will laugh…just trust me on that one. A good head nod or slight wave will get the job done. The rationale, I believe, is is the more desperate you look, the more you will talk, and see below…this does not bode well for you. Approach the taxi like you aught to be driving it.

3 - Know where you're going, kind of how to get there and have someone tell you how to pronounce it BEFORE you get in the taxi. DO NOT assume that even if you are nice, they will be nice back and help you out. WRONG! Mispronunciation = 'Sweet!! A foreigner! She has no clue!! CHA CHING!!' Don't be that guy/gal! I was….my address is Norfolk Place. In the US, it would be pronounce Nor…folk…two distinct syllables…nor like nor'easter storm, and folk like folk art and folk dancing. In the UK it is pronounced norfk….one syllable…nor is more like the nor in north, almost no stress on any of the three letters - separately or together and with the f and the k, you just run them together so that they are almost one letter. It took me a good two weeks and quite a few extra pounds and dour looks to get it right. One driver made me repeat it like 5 times, pulled out his pocket map, made me spell it and then said, 'Oh!! Norfk, Luv, you need to learn to speak English!" I am not usually a violent woman…but lets just say my thoughts that ride were less than Christian. Basically - say it and mean it and they think you know it!

4 - Once you tell them where to go, NO MORE TALKING! Unless you actually know the area and/or the language fluently, then shut up. The more you talk, the farther out of the way they will drive because; A) now they know you have no clue and b) they know that if you're talking you're not paying attention to the route…or the metre. Its not like in the movies - the taxi driver is not your best friend. The taxi driver doesn't need anymore friends than the other fares he has picked up since the start of his shift that thought they were his new best friend. You and Mr. Taxi aren't going to swap recipes and grow old together and tell your friends that it all started when you got into soandso's taxi and hadn't a clue where to go for dinner. Its OK not to say anything…you're not on Taxicab Confession here…they don't care how your day was or that you couldn't find your keys this morning. They care about you only to the extent that you have enough local currency to pay the tab…and even when it turns out you have pounds, but not enough euro, you can totally talk your way out of it!

Oh wait, now you might be wondering how I learned this little tidbit, so I will give you a brief summary…since it was a brief encounter. The one and only time I have talked to the driver was the basis of one of the worst date (his word NOT mine) that I have ever been on. First, technically, it wasn't even a taxi driver, it was a limo driver. Secondly, he initiated the conversation - Not me! This may have been because curiosity got the better of him since I was the only one in the limo and I'm guessing he was wondering how a young thing like myself (27 at the time) would (or financially could) have a limo hired for herself…company dime thank you very much…but he didn't know that. The ride, or more aptly 129 minutes of sheer nauseating banter and pre-pubescent come on lines to the likes of which has been outlawed in some small countries was the most unsettling 129 minutes of my life. I believe he may have had the mistaken assumption that I cared about the fact that he had quit his most recent 'gig' as a cabbie due to some 'unforeseeable' differences of opinion with the boss and that now he was a 'freelance' driver for a few different rental outfits. Um, freelance driver? Yeah…can you say no one will hire me full time…He also thought that I seemed like the type of person that wanted to hear about his 'solid business plan' This was said about 4 octaves lower than his normal speaking voice, and I can not describe the look on his face or the twinkle in his eye that was reflected in the rearview mirror when he said this. Needless to say, to this day, I am unsettled in actual meetings where we review business plans thanks to that freak. Long story short, when the sweet sight of my car in the company parking lot came into view, and I was able to run (well, not so much run as walk briskly…like faster than a speed walker on caffeine pills) from the limo, he followed me with my bags and proclaimed (again on the Barry White but not quite voice) that he really loved talking to me and got a good vibe from me (huh? I was so agitated I thought I was shaking - he must have misread that, too). He thought that it was a great first date and wanted to know where I wanted him to take me for dinner on our second…now I do give him props for creativity, had he maybe been any other guy at any other time…and actually charming, I might have thought that was a good line….But he wasn't!! So when he asked for my number, I gave him the number for the outside line to our security office (I used to forget my badge a lot and had to call the security booth guys too many times to count).

I believe I may have gotten off track…but the point remains the same - do not speak to the driver…do not even speak when spoken to!

5 - Tipping…in the US, we are big tippers…bigger than anywhere else in the world I have been or have heard from other people that they have been. I know in the US we pay people something a kin to slave wages, so tips are basically the only money they make. But this is not true for Europe as a whole…some places its even a insult to overtip!! A good rule of thumb - anything under 10 pounds/euro, don't bother with any tip at all. Anything over that - maybe 10% if you feel like it. If not, then don't tip them. This does take a bit of getting used to….and yes, I did waste a lot of pounds the first few weeks I lived in London, but you get over it pretty quick! First, you go through denial - 'I can't believe you don't tip here at all!' Then there is a period of guilt - 'Oh man - I didn't tip him enough!!' Then there is anger, 'I can't believe I was over tipping those guys all this time!!' Then you sink into a wonderfully enlightening phase of, 'I love this place - there is no tipping basically!"

Always remember - when in doubt, don't worry about it - you'll never see them again!

The London Midway

This morning I awoke to yet another rainy London morning...hit snooze 4 times since I was so sore from my workout the day before...realized that I was out of cereal...this was only OK since I found the milk was past the expiry date...way past the date...and made my way to the bus stop while managing to only get moderately soaked. But for all this misery, I was rewarded...I managed to score my favorite seat on the bus!!

Now granted, only people that ride the bus on a daily basis can really understand the concept of the favorite seat...and even then, there are still those that can't truly appreciate the favorite seat. School buses don't have them - their seats are all the same. Greyhound buses don't have them since you all pay the same price and any seat that isn't by the bathroom is a good seat. Even most public transportation buses don't have them since they are, for the most part, a single story rectangle on wheels that was upholstered by someone that loved their valor leisure suit a bit too much.

So let me explain my favorite seat...first and foremost...you have to ride on the double-decker bus...no questions asked...trust me, the novelty never wears off. Secondly, you have to get the seats on the first row of the top level...even more importantly, you have to get the right side seat (hopefully no one sits next to you). How does this make it my favorite seat? Well, when you're on the top of the bus, a whole story above the milling masses that crowd the streets like like ants around picnic basket, its almost like the city is putting a show on for you...you just have to look to see the different acts.

This morning, though, I was struck by feeling of déjà vu. The point in time that I was taken back to was my days working at Cedar Point. Cedar Point, for those of you who might not know, is an amusement park located on Lake Erie in Ohio. Its the park where I worked (and lived) for 2 summers when I was a teenager.

How can you possibly compare London to an amusement park in Ohio you might ask...well let me tell just tell you...

Some mornings, before the park opened, when the dew was still on the ground and the pavement was still wet from being hosed down the night before, there would be these people just aimlessly wondering up and down the midway waiting for the rides and food stands to open. These people, mostly guests at the hotels in the park, would just be meandering around, alone in their little worlds and oblivious to the poor schleps...like myself...that were rushing around, getting ready for the day's work....preparing to make their day enjoyable.

This morning, as I sat in my favorite seat, I recognized that same dazed look among the tourists roaming Oxford St. I recognized the families with the matching bright yellow shirts...so no one gets lost!...and the kids happy to be on their own for a few minutes before they had to continue with the forced family fun. I recognized the others, like myself, just trying to get through the crowds in order to get to work. I saw the street vendors beginning to hawk their wares to the sleepy passersby.

I also saw...to my astonishment...that the reasons I loved those morning walks down the midway are the very same reasons that I love to watch this city from my favorite seat on the bus. Just like those sleepy mornings on the midway, I got the opportunity to peak at everyone one around me...their happy faces, their sad faces, snippets of their conversations, jokes and thoughts out loud. I get to see these things since to them, I am just the scenery in the play...an extra in their home movies. But to me...they are the free entertainment that gives me a chuckle, a smile, and a reminder that I am glad to be walking in my own shoes.