Category: Britain

Britain, Fabulous, Food, Friends, Humor, London, Theatre March 5, 2014March 5, 2014

Girls Night (At the Savoy. No Biggie)

“Well I really am not going to be imprisoned in the suburbs for dining in the west-end!”
– Oscar Wilde, The Importance of Being Earnest

Jeff is working in Peterborough again this month which means after a long day of typing away at my desk, I’m responsible for keeping myself entertained. Luckily I have the internet…to make friends.

I’m part of several groups that have personal, practical, journalistic, and academic interests in feminist movements and initiatives in religious cultures and communities. Through these groups I’ve met a whole host of fascinating, hilarious, scarily smart ladies whom I’ve been lucky enough to become friends with over the years. Two such ladies currently live in London, so naturally we decided to have a hang out. One is an academic and author who works for the Princes School for Traditional Arts the other is a graduate student from my alma mater currently the resident TA for a study abroad program, and working on her thesis. And then there’s me. Professional scribbler.

I procured theatre tickets, another made a reservation, one thing led to another and the next thing you know we were sitting down to dinner at the Savoy like a proper bunch of 1920s and 30s celebrated smart types.

The Savoy was the first high luxury hotel in Britain in the 19th century, featuring such innovations as running heated water and electricity, and remained the dernier cri of good living. It’s still a byword for class (and a bit of snobbery) and a luxurious time. Frequented by film stars of the Golden Age of Hollywood, royals and their various entourages of coutiers and mistresses, sports stars, and artists, not a few favorites of mine have bedded down here. Alas it has had some challenges. A few years ago the hotel closed for a major refit and redecoration, one of the restaurants lost one of its Michelin stars, and business has been tricky in times of austerity. Nevertheless, it was the Savoy – of course we were going to go if we got the chance!

We were served by a marvelously sardonic and sly witted waiter. We weren’t drinking (which surprised him, since the wine and cocktail list is legendary) but he seemed delighted when we ordered mocktails instead because they presented a challenge. Lisa in particular won him by asking for a non-alcoholic surprise from the bartender. He returned with a gorgeous drink whipped up especially for her smelling of fruits and rosewater and named, on the spot when we asked for one, “an Unexpected Pleasure.”

Don’t mind the turtle face, I’m just having a taste of Lisa’s drink. And it was delicious (we were promiscuous with our beverages, sharing sips and straws and probably horrifying the waiters). Clearly we had a great time!

Soups and sauces were poured out onto delicious dishes, crumbs were scraped away with solid silver utensils built just for that purpose, and the bread basket was kept filled with piping hot offerings. We shared foods and deserts without any thought of propriety, swapped deserts and petit fours with one another, compared work and life stories, and debated deeply for two hours before hustling to the theatre.

I walked home across the Thames absolutely cocooned in contentedness.

(Rose had the good sense to bring a proper camera so better photos can be seen on her blog here if you want better close ups of the food. Which you do, trust me.)

Britain, Expat, Food, Humor, Husband, Life, London, Travel March 1, 2014

A Saturday Escapade

“And marbled clouds go scudding by
The many-steepled London sky.”
― John Betjeman

London kicked off March (seriously, March already?!) in fine style with a gorgeous day. We were lazy getting up and about this morning but about lunchtime I turned to Jeff and told him I had a craving for a burger. Never a man to disoblige (or turn down beef), we headed to a perennial favorite BRGR CO and indulged.

The weather was a balmy 45 degrees, which is practically summer in our corner of Europe. In honor of the temperature, we wore t-shirts and ordered milkshakes. Then, one craving satisfied, we decided to soak in the Vitamin D and the city as well and went on an epic wander starting in Covent Garden and ending in Kensington. Jeff suggested Hyde Park and I wanted to show him where I lived when a student here.

Hyde Park was a glorious, green expanse.

Dogs were out everywhere and we crossed paths with many a kid atop their pony.

London has a bad weather reputation, some of it earned, but let me tell you when it gets it right, London gets it right!

Buds are shoving their way up and out of the soil and tips of trees, daffodils and crocuses are blooming turbulently, and the birds were singing. With respect, Game of Thrones, Spring is coming!

We passed Queen Victoria’s (in my opinion hideous) Neo-Gothic memorial to Prince Albert, and just down the path a ways and across the street, there it was:

My Kensington stomping grounds! Jeff stood still for a second with this mouth slightly ajar, glanced over his shoulder to where Hyde Park sat a mere 50ft away from the front door, and pronounced me an all my educational cohorts, “Spoiled.” Can’t say he’s wrong, though I will say I much prefer living in our flat south of the river. It might be less rarified than Kensington, but small as it is, it’s about a thousand times more comfortable and a hell of a lot less snobby an area.

We finished up with an amble up Exhibition Road, which turned into a short foray into the V&A (where I do not spend nearly enough time) before heading home.

Britain, Expat, Food, Friends, Fun, Humor, London February 26, 2014February 26, 2014

Venezuela By Way of Shoreditch

“Part of growing up is not waiting in line at a hipster breakfast restaurant. The eggs taste the same across the street. I promise.”
– Jason Segel

It’s a cliche but somewhat earned: Shoreditch is unspeakably hipster, there are more skinny jeans and slouchy hats in this area than you can shake a stick at. It’s another one of those historically rough areas of London that’s become much more gentrified lately. Particularly hated by the Puritans for being a major theatre district, with all the usual attendant vices, by the 19th century it had become a center of crime and prostitution as well as entertainment. (Honestly, you’d be hard pressed to find an area of London that hasn’t been a hub of crime and prostitution at some point…)

Regardless of its past seediness or present hispter-ness, there is good food to be had and plenty of wandering to do along the streets and canals. A while back when Katie and I visited the Geffrye Museum, we decided to go on a small adventure to find something to eat. At one point a sign caught my eye, because to be honest even in Shoreditch it’s not everyday you see hammocks swinging in place of window seating. And not ironically!

Welcome to Arepa and Co., an award winning Venezuelan deli, specializing in two types of traditional Andean corn breads and cakes, and other South American ingredients. I pride myself in my ability to go native, kittens, but I have missed black beans and Southern spices!

Katie and I parked ourselves at the bar, ordered tea, and enjoyed!

The menu is delightfully customizable with a respectable drinks menus (hot and cold) and a scrumptious brunch – my new favorite meal.

Pardon the mobile quality photos but I am not, and have never claimed to be a photographer. After stuff ourselves, we explored more of the canal, watched the houseboats sail by (one with a row of motorcycles running down it’s center) and chatting. Sadly Katie’s back in the States now, but we’ve made plans to meet up with her and Adam in Paris next month and I’m already getting excited for it!

Britain, Expat, Humor, London, Travel February 25, 2014February 23, 2014

Memory Jog

“In the great cities we see so little of the world, we drift into our minority. In the little towns and villages there are no minorities; people are not numerous enough. You must see the world there, perforce. Every man is himself a class; every hour carries its new challenge. When you pass the inn at the end of the village you leave your favourite whimsy behind you; for you will meet no one who can share it.”
– W.B. Yeats

I really loved our wedding, it was a great party. But the other option Jeff and I considered was the exact opposite of a party, practically eloping and having a tiny, family only affair in Britain. My fantasy reception center was none other than The Swan in Lavenham – which you may remember as one of my favorite spots in all of Britain. All things considered, it probably was the better idea to stage the event in Utah, home or at least homebase to Jeff’s extended family which is many, many times larger than mine, but I confess The Swan still holds a tiny corner of my heart.

So you can imagine my delight while looking at some back issues at Red, to their Best of Britain issue, when I happened to chance upon a feature of it! It’s rekindled my affection. Perhaps a day trip is in order.

Birth Control, Britain, Expat, Health, Humor, London, Sexism February 24, 2014February 23, 2014

Incendiary Monday Post – Healthcare, Birth Control, Women’s Roles – Oh My!

“Woman must have her freedom, the fundamental freedom of choosing whether or not she will be a mother and how many children she will have. Regardless of what man’s attitude may be, that problem is hers — and before it can be his, it is hers alone. She goes through the vale of death alone, each time a babe is born. As it is the right neither of man nor the state to coerce her into this ordeal, so it is her right to decide whether she will endure it.”
― Margaret Sanger, Woman and the New Race

My old job did a horrible job at supporting women’s health. There, I said it. No real maternity leave (unless you count 12 weeks without pay, after which time your job is hypothetically up for grabs and much relies on the goodwill of your department), no day care (there is a single care area, but it is a research facility and not open to public enrollment), and frankly less than impressive health care options.

I have my theories about this, but primarily I think it’s because it’s a private religious school that’s part of a traditional gender essentialist cultural. Women with kids should be at home with those kids, goes the thinking. Granted I certainly I never heard anyone at the university say this in an official HR capacity, but I heard it everywhere (including some classes) unofficially, even from administrators of my own department. Let me be clear, I do not believe for one second that the policy and procedural edicts on the subject were the result of some cabal of men evilly stroking cats and scheming in a dark room somewhere, but I do think that this idea of prescribed gender roles passively plays a role in making assumptions about what working women do or do not need long term.

1970's ad from Australia. — 1970’s ad from Australia.

I’m not going to get into the arguments for or against this cultural set up now, except to say that for a school that emphasized family values, I often wondered why I saw so many policies and procedures – and cultural mores – that made it hard for women (employees and students alike) to have one, because that’s a rant for another day. What really bothered me personally was the issue of birth control.

Yes, my birth control was theoretically covered by my work insurance plan. In practice, however, it turned out to be cheaper for me in the long run to go through Planned Parenthood for my annual exams and prescriptions. That is ridiculous. I often wondered what was the point of my healthcare plan if the main thing I used it for besides dentistry (being otherwise a pretty healthy person) turned out to be more financially heavy than services outside its administrative scope. And believe me, Planned Parenthood was not popular or commonly marketed as an option in this state!

But the real challenge came when I quit that job in preparation for our London move. I needed a supply of several months to get me through the summer, the move, the settling in, and the setting up of our new health plan in Britain – we’re covered by the NHS but opted for additional coverage as part of Jeff’s work benefits package. Planned Parenthood could only give me 2-3 month of a prescription at a time, and my GP couldn’t write me a prescription that could account for my change of employment status, since my insurance disappeared with my job. My GP was a great doctor who took them time to listen to my concerns and ultimately wrote me a full year’s prescription and worked with the pharmacy to fill it, since they also normally dispense it in smaller quantities. But it was entirely out of pocket for me and cost nearly $400 to do so – a bit more than a $1 a day to remain child free by choice.

Fast forward to London. When down to my last month of birth control, I make an appointment with the doctor’s office I’ve registered at (coincidentally a 7 minute walk from our flat). My stats and measurements are taken, my health history is reviewed, my current prescription is examined to verify they carry the same or a similar drug, a new prescription is written. The whole process takes 10 minutes. Four days ago I walked to the adjacent pharmacy and filled it, getting two months of BC. It is not as attractively or complexly packaged as what I got in the States, but the dosages are identical.

It cost me nothing.

I don’t pretend that socialized medicine is without consequences, particularly for a country as large and divided as the US. But I grew up in socialized medical care – by which I mean… the system that treats the military and government servicemen and women of the country. It too had some major drawbacks (witness a large scar on one arm when having skin biopsied vs the nearly invisible one I got for the same treatment in private care), but when run properly it works. Astonishingly well. I’m for more of it, particularly more that treats women’s health as an integral part of the system, since we’re 51% of the population, instead of a specialty field.

Discuss.

– My friend Heidi documents a less than stellar experience from her Danish doctor. Any other expats have stories to share, good and bad?

– John Green talks about healthcare costs on the vlogbrothers channel, worth a view even if you disagree vehemently.

– A post laying out the pros/cons of universal healthcare and comparing it in the US to other nations

– Another pro/con examination

Books, Britain, Fashion, London February 22, 2014February 20, 2014

Minion Tip-off!

One of the fabulous editors I worked under at Red was Saska Graville, I was lucky to do some research for her for an upcoming interview with a pretty inspiring individual. She’s also an author of the popular London Style Guide, which I’ve wanted to get my hands on for a while – curse poverty! Blogger Rachel Khoo is doing a giveaway for the book this week. It’s for British residents only but well worth entering if you want a editor’s personal take on my favorite city!

*image via Rachel Khoo’s blog

Britain, Humor, Linkstorm, London, Weekend, Work, Writing February 21, 2014

Friday Links (So You Want To Be a Writer, Edition)

“There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.”
― Ernest Hemingway

Getting back into the freelance routine after two really amazing weeks at a magazine office has been a bit challenging, kittens. The truth is, I like being around other people, working on some team assignments, and seeing work I’ve done contribute to something. I get a lot of satisfaction with my freelancing work and I have no plans to quit it ever, but I confess I’d sure as hell like a steady income again and being around an office of people who make a living writing is equal parts inspiring and jealousy-inducing.

Obviously the cure for this is to find a job that pays me to write regularly…but you would not believe how hard that is. I’ve been hard at that very goal for months now! Of course, I’m still learning a lot. For the past year my writing has largely been copy work, which pays the bills (mostly) but doesn’t come with a lot of reflected glory (and I admit, I’d like just a little glory). But now that I’ve got some journalism and solid copy work under my belt I’m trying to transition to including magazine articles and other mediums that I want to gain experience in.

As with all work, with writing ultimately what I need is a foot in the door somewhere. I’m working with an editor I met at Red now on one pitch that she really liked and connected with (gah, I’m so hopeful it’s a bit ridiculous) and I’ve contacted some local magazines about possibly doing freelance work for them as well, and am prepared to (politely) hound them until I get replies. I’m making progress. I’m just impatient!

Anyone else going through a work/life transition? Or my fellow writers out there have any words of wisdom to impart? Here are your links, tell me what you’re getting up to this weekend!

This is amazing! Sir David Attenborough Planet Earth’s Olympic curling!

Fascinating post from the Atlantic! I don’t classify myself as a particularly bad procrastinator, but other issues mentioned in this (imposter syndrome, being the top reader/writer in my class growing up only to turn into a little fish in a huge pond later, fear of failure) I deeply identify with.

Also from the Atlantic, but I thought this was an interesting followup to last week’s link of face “good” sides.

While I admit Lean In has some failings in relating well to women across class lines and other divides, I found a lot to like in it, and I’m pretty supportive of several of the Lean In projects. This latest is a majorly good one – a collection of stock photos to portray women more diversely and accurately than the media boils us down to. This Buzzfeed article has a great, edited selection for those who don’t care to search the 2500+ and growing collection.

Wanting this latest Blanca Gomez print.

The pace of medical science astounds me sometimes. Someday this technology will help people like my siter-in-law, currently on a waitlist for a lung transplant.

This is a thing? Unless we’re carting corpses out of debutantes bedrooms, poisoning one another with pastry, or destroying our siblings reputations (all of which, it much be said can usually be done at a typical Rodgers Family Game Night), I want no part of this.

The headline of the week. Mostly because I really loved Bosch’s work from my art history course at university on the Northern Renaissance

This kid is doing something pretty fun on Instagram.

Need to escape the proletariat? Quick, pick a pseudonym!

Britain, Expat, London February 20, 2014February 18, 2014

London Snapshot

I’m not saying a 1930s Agatha Christie murder has taken place here, I’m just saying one should.

Britain, Expat, Humor, Husband, London, Theatre February 18, 2014

Spectre At the Feast

Where no gods are, spectres rule.
-Novalis

A couple of weekends ago, Jeff and I went to see The Drowned Man: A Hollywood Fable, a production by Punchdrunk and the National Theatre. It was a very new sort of theatre experience for us but from scope to scale, one of the most ambitious productions I’ve ever seen. Walk with me, kittens. Literally.

First of all, it’s an immersion experience. It’s promenade style theatre so you’re walking around, on your feet the entire time (and performances can last up to three hours). Second of all, you’re supposed to go exploring. Wander through the set, which takes up four floors of an entire building, poke into closets, rifle through papers, open shut doors to see what character or secret passages lurk inside. And lastly, everyone wears masks giving you a sense of anonymity as part of the set, and also the feeling of being a ghoulish sort of voyeur into the scenes you witness.

2014-02-09 20.37.17 — It’s supposed to be creepy…but I sort of get Donald Duck does Phantom of the Opera.

The play itself is loosely inspired by Georg Büchner’s famously unfinished play Woyzeck, set in a faded Hollywood production studio and the dying town surrounding it where has-beens and wannabes mingle together either waiting for their second chance or big break. There are two main plotlines both involving infidelity and the descent into madness. But, and this is the most interesting part, there are other storylines that intersect and weave throughout the main ones. Wearing your mask, you must follow the characters you wish to throughout their plot to understand what’s going on. All the while, though, you’re crisscrossing other characters, other plotlines and getting hints of other stories. It’s possible to mix up the crowd of other witnesses you’re in and end up following a different character entirely from the one you started.

Like not a few of the minds they are portraying, it’s very fractal and disorienting. Much like most people’s everyday experiences, a lot of things are going on around you as a viewer, but you can only focus on one or two of them at a time and get the sense that you’re missing out on a lot of information.

Wisely the production cycles through itself a couple of times, allowing the audience more than one chance to grasp onto a tale and follow it to its conclusion. But it is impossible to follow every character and every plotline in the time allotted, which means you as the audience member have to decide. The feeling is very similar to those choose-your-own-adventure books for children, but all grown up, adult and darker.

A shabby sort of town, a movie lot, a trailerpark, nightclubs for the beautiful people and honkytonks for the less so, a church, the woods, a cinema, doctors’ offices are all laid out in such a way that if you follow a character, the layout blends together and creates a plot. But if you don’t you’ll find yourself lost and turned around almost immediately. Watch the trailer below to get some idea of the set and creative. The whole thing is a labyrinth fearfully and wonderfully made, I cannot imagine the time it took to coordinate a dozen storylines simultaneous over multiple building stories, multiple sets, and interacting with one another.

For example, at one point one woman looks in a mirror and is clearly contemplating whether she should go through with her affair. The mirror fades to partial transparency and the audience can clearly see that the reflection is not her but her husband. Because there is no “offstage,” the husband’s storyline is proceeding with its own audience at the same time; he’s in a doctor’s office looking at those one-way mirrors, his mental state beginning to deteriorate and hallucinating his wife. Those sorts of integrations run throughout the production. And yet somehow, every audience member ends up at the finale in the same place at the same time. I seriously want to shake the hand of the person who blocked this thing because I have no idea how they did it.

As theatre goes there are times it stumbles – sometimes you can’t even hear the actors speaking because you’re too far away from them, and other technical concerns – but as an immersion experience goes it’s absolutely stellar. It’s intimate, closeup, and deeply personal. Audience members jockey for position to follow and get best views to the storylines, and in the end (as both the main plots end in murder) you’re left very aware of your own voyeurism.

Britain, Fashion, Humor, London, Work, Writing February 17, 2014February 14, 2014

Working For A Magazine (As told in, what else…?)

“You gotta have style. It helps you get down the stairs. It helps you get up in the morning. It’s a way of life. Without it, you’re nobody. I’m not talking about lots of clothes.”
– Diana Vreeland

For better or worse, we live in the day and age that we do, so there is really only one way to tell this story, kittens, and that is through the medium of gifs. Specifically of one of my favorite fun, feel good movies about working for a magazine: The Devil Wears Prada.

Because for being absolutely NOTHING like the the world portrayed in the film, I found some pretty hilarious moments of parallel that kept me laughing.

For example, the time I actually took a phone call from…Dolce and Gabbana.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s start at the beginning.

First of all, most magazines – even the large glossies are not run by masses and masses of people. Most of the teams are smaller, about half a dozen permanent staff bolstered by interns, work experience people like me, and members of the wider company who work with departments like legal and HR (plus, of course, an ever rotating of freelancers who work for themselves away from office eyes, mostly). Which means, forget any ideas you have about people lazing and swanning about admiring their own beauty and calling each other, “Dahling!” These people are busy! At any given point the team at the area my desk is in is writing, paying writers, uploading fresh content to the website several times a day, verifying stories and photos months in advance, coordinating copy between the printing magazine and various media platforms, keeping up with more social media than the mind can comfortably conceive.

People doing work experience typically only get a week – I was extremely lucky and got two – but it took me a couple of days to find my footing in the office. Because the main teams are small and well organized teams, they are also fairly close knit. Most of what I did for those two days was sorting mail and doing errand runs including…

Coffee runs! Which, exactly opposite of running errands for the magnificent Ms. Priestly, was not at all scary or difficult and was always rewarded with a thank you.

Regardless of the niceness, I admit, I was intimidated. Writing has always been the plan for me but (as longtime readers and loyal minions know), it’s been a dream fought hard for and also supported in times of great stress or trial – looking at you, Great Recession – by strokes of good timing, unanticipated opportunity, and straight up good fortune. So there I was, an eager but admittedly puny freelancer surrounded by an office full of people who have “made it.” Several members of the team have written books, most have dozens and dozens of articles under their belts, all are talented and have achieved a level of recognition for it.

After my first couple of awkward days settled down, the teammates I worked with seemed to realize I absolutely meant it when I said I was happy to help in any way because I really wanted to contribute and learn. At first one or two asked me, a bit hesitantly, to transcribe some interviews for them. These are time consuming and painstaking jobs that are not always popular – however I have nearly five years of transcribing crime investigations, and now was being offered a chance to do interviews with authors, celebrities, and politicians. It was a joy, they were wonderfully interesting! Not only that but these practiced fingers can fly. Word got around quickly and I did probably half a dozen transcription jobs.

I also was stretched into new areas, like sourcing samples of items for upcoming reviews or features, researching and developing lines of questioning for high profile interviews, and even contributing some online content! All of these were new and a bit intimidating, but like almost everything else in life, once I’d tried it, it wasn’t nearly as difficult or as scary as I worked myself into fearing it was.

When learning, my main goal was to avoid this sort of reaction when I had to put that learning into practice. I’m happy to say that as far as I can tell, I may have been found inexperienced in some things, but no one seemed to think I was an idiot or incapable when I did the work anyway.

British fashion is legendarily free of the rules and conventions some other countries take seriously. Again, banish the image of a woman swanning around in couture. The girls I worked with each looked comfortable, individual, and unique and they wore every combination you could think of from beat up boots to high end. It was a stylish eye opener to see them in action.

Yes, there is some kind of minor crisis every day.

The only really hard thing? The Tube Strike. It was awful, I’ve already whined about it, let’s move on and bust some myths!

Myth busted: magazine people are catty. The features team (which I worked under directly) and Editor-in-Chief are all extremely friendly, and no, I’m not just saying that. I pitched ideas to several people, including the features editor who took the time to sit down with me one-on-one to discuss them (one especially looks promising!), and then gave me a ton of advice for building my freelancing career in general and in London in particular. She was a fount of information and encouragement!

This wasn’t a one-off thing, the entire office is incredibly friendly and willing to answer questions. I also got to chat to several of the interns who confirmed for me that the Red office is extremely pleasant to work for. I think this goes back to the reality that the magazine world is much smaller than people realize – not only are most of the people I met and heard of friends and respected colleagues, it doesn’t pay to be a jerk and people out for themselves at the expense of their team don’t get far.

Myth busted: the makeover montage. I enjoy fashion, but I don’t cover it as a living (even though I’d like the chance to do so for at least one assignment in my career, because it clearly can be fun if the awesome fashion team in action I saw was any indication). But forget shopping in the fashion closet for your own makeover, all of those items are on loan, are meticulously tagged and documented, and in almost all cases end up going straight back where they came from. Sorry for killing your dreams.

Ditto accessories. Which isn’t to say I didn’t admire the racks of gorgeous things and enjoy getting to see them months ahead of the curve. I’m snobby enough to like feeling exclusive and special like that.

Myth busted: unhealthy lifestyles. Sorry to the catty among you, these people eat healthy and regularly – trust me, I picked up their sandwiches. Not only that they all seemed to have found and individual lifestyle plan that worked for them, and I saw every body type and shape represented in the office.

Summation? It was great fun, a good opportunity, I learned much and got great contacts. I’m happy as a clam about getting the chance to do it, and hopefully I’ll do something similar again the future. Anyone looking for work as a writer would do well to spend a week working at such an office to learn this much mythologized but often inaccurately portrayed side of the industry: it’s hard work, it’s a valuable perspective, and it’s totally eye-opening.

Small Dog Syndrome