Britain, Expat, Food, Friends, Fun, Humor, London

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…)

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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!

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

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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!

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Britain, Expat, Humor, London, Travel

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.

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Birth Control, Britain, Expat, Health, Humor, London, Sexism

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.

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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

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!

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*image via Rachel Khoo’s blog

Britain, Humor, Linkstorm, London, Weekend, Work, Writing

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!

Humor, Husband, Life

Height Differences

“Though she be but little she is fierce.”
– William Shakespeare

The other day Jeff was getting dressed and reached for a shirt of the drying rack, while still not too terribly awake. I know this because I came out from brushing my teeth in the bathroom when I heard him laughing to discover he had tried to put on a shirt of mine instead of his own, which apparently are awfully similar in color and pattern. (Personal note: must do something about this because one of the most odious things a couple can do in public is dress alike.)

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That’s right. His forearm is the length of my entire arm.

Visuals like this often throw me because I don’t feel particularly short or small most of the the time, even though I know I am. Other recent height issues lately include me buying too much contact solution because I’d thought we’d run out when in fact Jeff had stored it on top of a cabinet out of my line of sight, and him walking into the kitchen and burst out laughing because he found me standing on a counter so as to rifle through items on the top shelf of a cupboard that I could not otherwise reach. Shortness, a never ending source of exasperation on my part and amusement on his.

Britain, Expat, Humor, Husband, London, Theatre

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.

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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.

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Boo, darlings!
Britain, Fashion, Humor, London, Work, Writing

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.

Britain, Fashion, Humor, Linkstorm, London, Work, Writing

Friday Links (C’mon Vogue! Edition)

“Vogue always did stand for people’s lives. I mean, a new dress doesn’t get you anywhere; it’s the life you’re living in the dress, and the sort of life you had lived before, and what you will do in it later.”
– Diana Vreeland

My last day at Red, and it’s been an absolute blast – I have a fun post for you coming on Monday about my adventures, never fear. In the meantime I’m finishing up my projects and enjoying the office atmosphere as London Fashion Week kick off today, the BAFTA’s prep starts as well, and other things converge into a massive swarm of work frenzy. Of all the days to wind up a work experience, this is a good one. Here are your links, tell me what you’re up to this weekend!

Really glad to have been able to work here, it's been an adventure!
Really glad to have been able to work here, it’s been an adventure!

First of all, it’s Valentines Day – do something lovely with people you like. And if you’re in Florida and you need a last minute reservation, got you covered.

Someone has taken one of my favorite things Ira Glass has ever said and turned it into this. Thoughts for all of us.

One of my London friends, freelance graphic artist Teri, routinely puts out some seriously charming freebies on her site. Her most recent a Spring-y but modern graphic wallpaper is gorgeous.

Were I an heiress, perhaps one of those fabulous types portrayed by the cinema in the 30s, I’d definitely need something (that was not a servant) to hold my gloves from time to time. This would do nicely.

This would make a gorgeous, alternative wedding dress.

Blog find of the week, tales of a woman selling theatre tickets in the West End. I’m pretty sure we should be friends in real life.

Some of the world’s most beautiful libraries.

If you want to see our particular foundational drippings in the primordial soup we all started as, Emily Graslie (my STEM lady crush) of The Brain Scoop has got you covered.

The pinnacle of porcine fabulousness is getting hitched in Vivienne Westwood – working at a magazine leads one to discover the oddest headlines.

The NFL may soon draft it’s first openly gay player, this newscaster hits the nail on the head discussing it and any “controversy” surrounding it. Bravo.

Here’s one to chew on: American media rolling in the gleeful angstfest of complaining about conditions in Sochi might say more about them and betray our own privilege more than it embarrasses Russia. Dirty water, unsafe conditions, unreliable transportation…that’s not entertainment, that’s a large portion of the human race’s reality.

Kid employes Game Theory in Jeopardy. Fascinating!

Turns out, having a “good side,” is a real thing. It’s amazing the amount of differences in the sides of our faces.