09 July 2008
Are you alright, lovely?
I love the way the British speak. I don’t mean the accents - although those are fun too – I am talking about the phrases that we don’t have in America. For the first few weeks of work I was paranoid that I sat at my desk with a puzzled/concerned/sad expression on my face because nearly every time anyone walked by they would say “are you alright?” I have since learned, and come to enjoy, that this phrase actually correlates with the American phrase “How are you?” or if you are a hip American you may say “What’s up?”
Another thing I love about the way the British talk is how encouraging every sentence is. While talking on the phone my boss litterly calls everyone “lovely.” Regardless of whether or not the person on the other end of the line is in fact lovely, or whether or not she has even met them, she always says “are alright, lovely?”
The city is hard on shoes, which in turn is hard on me because I love shoes. I walk miles everyday on cemented sidewalks and subway platforms. I am constantly stepped on by people who are taller than me (which is almost everyone) because the sidewalks and tube are so packed. And, it rains constantly so they never truly dry out. I was told by many people to focus on the comfort of the shoe and not the way it looks because of how the city destroys shoes, but I didn’t listen. So today I drug my blistered feel over to the shoe repair man to fix the heels of two pairs of shoes. The cute old man just smiled at me and probably was thinking “stupid American with your fancy shoes.” Then on the two block walk back to my office I noticed nearly a dozen women who had paired their professional business suits with tennis shoes. While they probably don’t have to get their shoes repaired and their feet are more than likely not covered in blisters, I can’t bring myself to create such a fashion fau-paux.
I remember always noticing when my family would take trips to NYC that the locals on the streets had permanent annoyed looks plastered across their faces. The city has just made them cold, I would convince myself. But now, I fear I am becoming one of them. Herds of tourists standing in front of the exit to the tube station with their giant maps blocking me from getting to work. People standing in the middle of the sidewalk taking pictures of churches as if they were the paparazzi. I scoff and think, “ha, I know my way around” and then karma kicks me in the butt and makes me realize that I am nothing more than a tourist as well. I still get lost. I still take the wrong tube. I still eat at the same places because I can’t find the new ones people have recommended to me. I’m still a tourist.
Another thing I love about the way the British talk is how encouraging every sentence is. While talking on the phone my boss litterly calls everyone “lovely.” Regardless of whether or not the person on the other end of the line is in fact lovely, or whether or not she has even met them, she always says “are alright, lovely?”
The city is hard on shoes, which in turn is hard on me because I love shoes. I walk miles everyday on cemented sidewalks and subway platforms. I am constantly stepped on by people who are taller than me (which is almost everyone) because the sidewalks and tube are so packed. And, it rains constantly so they never truly dry out. I was told by many people to focus on the comfort of the shoe and not the way it looks because of how the city destroys shoes, but I didn’t listen. So today I drug my blistered feel over to the shoe repair man to fix the heels of two pairs of shoes. The cute old man just smiled at me and probably was thinking “stupid American with your fancy shoes.” Then on the two block walk back to my office I noticed nearly a dozen women who had paired their professional business suits with tennis shoes. While they probably don’t have to get their shoes repaired and their feet are more than likely not covered in blisters, I can’t bring myself to create such a fashion fau-paux.
I remember always noticing when my family would take trips to NYC that the locals on the streets had permanent annoyed looks plastered across their faces. The city has just made them cold, I would convince myself. But now, I fear I am becoming one of them. Herds of tourists standing in front of the exit to the tube station with their giant maps blocking me from getting to work. People standing in the middle of the sidewalk taking pictures of churches as if they were the paparazzi. I scoff and think, “ha, I know my way around” and then karma kicks me in the butt and makes me realize that I am nothing more than a tourist as well. I still get lost. I still take the wrong tube. I still eat at the same places because I can’t find the new ones people have recommended to me. I’m still a tourist.
07 July 2008
The line forms here...
The theme of this weekend was: waiting in line
Line 1: We took the tube to the Portobello Road Antique Market in Notting Hill on Saturday morning to play with vintage jewelry and snack on fresh produce. Hundreds of other peopled did the same thing so we had to wait in lines just to get close enough to any vendor. I didn't so much mind the lines because I was enjoying soaking in the smells and the noises and the people and all the strange things I could purchase. My favorite person we saw all morning was this middle-aged woman, who I believe was quite beautiful in her younger days but cigarettes and the sun had been hard on her. She had a small booth filled with antique jewelry - the kind of pieces that you just stand there and stare at because they are so eye catching. When someone would pick up a necklace or a broach or a ring she would do one of two things: 1) she would go into a five minute long history of how she acquired this particular piece and then showing everything she had that was even remotely similiar until the shopper became so uninterested that they walked away OR 2) she would say "oh no, not that one, I think I want to keep that one" and would add it to the gawdy collection of jewelry she was already wearing. She was certainly no saleswoman but she had the aura about her that makes the kind of character Goldie Hawn would play in a movie.
line 2: An hour long train ride later we ened up in Wimbledon for the Championships of the tennis tournament. We were the 200th spot in line so we waited "patiently" for our turn to get inside the grounds - which proved to be well worth the wait. It was finally warm, for the first time in over a week, and we sat on the mound eating strawberries and creme while we watched Serena and Venus Williams play eachother. I felt like quite the socialite, even though it was clear that I had no idea what was going on. Wimbledon is one of those things that, whether you are a tennis love or not (and for me, it's closer to not), truely helps you appreciate the British culture.
Line 1: We took the tube to the Portobello Road Antique Market in Notting Hill on Saturday morning to play with vintage jewelry and snack on fresh produce. Hundreds of other peopled did the same thing so we had to wait in lines just to get close enough to any vendor. I didn't so much mind the lines because I was enjoying soaking in the smells and the noises and the people and all the strange things I could purchase. My favorite person we saw all morning was this middle-aged woman, who I believe was quite beautiful in her younger days but cigarettes and the sun had been hard on her. She had a small booth filled with antique jewelry - the kind of pieces that you just stand there and stare at because they are so eye catching. When someone would pick up a necklace or a broach or a ring she would do one of two things: 1) she would go into a five minute long history of how she acquired this particular piece and then showing everything she had that was even remotely similiar until the shopper became so uninterested that they walked away OR 2) she would say "oh no, not that one, I think I want to keep that one" and would add it to the gawdy collection of jewelry she was already wearing. She was certainly no saleswoman but she had the aura about her that makes the kind of character Goldie Hawn would play in a movie.
line 2: An hour long train ride later we ened up in Wimbledon for the Championships of the tennis tournament. We were the 200th spot in line so we waited "patiently" for our turn to get inside the grounds - which proved to be well worth the wait. It was finally warm, for the first time in over a week, and we sat on the mound eating strawberries and creme while we watched Serena and Venus Williams play eachother. I felt like quite the socialite, even though it was clear that I had no idea what was going on. Wimbledon is one of those things that, whether you are a tennis love or not (and for me, it's closer to not), truely helps you appreciate the British culture.
line 3: In typical London fashion, it rained all day yesterday. A friend and I took the train to Windsor Castle and made an adventure out of touring the state rooms soaking wet. It was amazing to have the opportunity to see King Henry VIII's coat of armor and Queen Elizabeth's bedroom. We may quite possibly have been the only ones on our tour that spoke english. It is fascinating to me that so many people outside of the UK are interested in the royal family. I don't know if it is the prestige or long-running history but even though I come from a country that has nothing remotely close to a royal family, I find myself scowering the tabloids for gossip about them here. Windsor was more a picture of what I pictured an English town to be. The cobblestone streets were lined with bakeries and tailors but the buckets of rain kept us from venturing past the fudge shop, where we stocked up on enough to keep us occupied for the train ride home.
And perhaps my favorite LINE story of all still gives me a headache to think about. I jumped on the tube during my lunch break to meet two friends in Covent garden at this cute little bistro. Of the billion tube stations in London, Covent garden is the only one who brilliantly decided to use elevators rather than escelators. As we struggled to fit as many sardines on the elevetor as possible, the door got jammed and those of us who were chanting small victories in our heads for being in the select group to make it inside were stuck. No air movement. No cell phone reception. No lunch at the cute little bistro with my friends. No perfect record of making it back to my internship on time after lunch everyday. I never thought I would say this, but I am considering writing a letter to someone and begging them to install some stairs. Although I am relishing in my work-out-less lifestyle at the current moment, I'd jog up 200 stairs if it meant never having to be trapped in a tube station eleveator again.
And perhaps my favorite LINE story of all still gives me a headache to think about. I jumped on the tube during my lunch break to meet two friends in Covent garden at this cute little bistro. Of the billion tube stations in London, Covent garden is the only one who brilliantly decided to use elevators rather than escelators. As we struggled to fit as many sardines on the elevetor as possible, the door got jammed and those of us who were chanting small victories in our heads for being in the select group to make it inside were stuck. No air movement. No cell phone reception. No lunch at the cute little bistro with my friends. No perfect record of making it back to my internship on time after lunch everyday. I never thought I would say this, but I am considering writing a letter to someone and begging them to install some stairs. Although I am relishing in my work-out-less lifestyle at the current moment, I'd jog up 200 stairs if it meant never having to be trapped in a tube station eleveator again.
04 July 2008
Independence (from England) Day
So today is Independence (from England) Day. And I am in England. No one really celebrates this holiday here, oddly enough. It is strange to know that my friends will be blowing up fireworks and my family will be attending barbeques tonight. I think I have gained a greater appreciation for America since I moved to England. The little things that I used to take for granted are beginning to seem like more and more of a necessity now that I can't have/do them.
On the other hand, they do have "tea people" who walk around all the offices and make sure you have hot tea all the time. We don't have that in America. This makes it a pretty tough call as to which country is better.
We went to see the musical Chicago last night in Covent Garden. I have seen the movie about 16 dozen times but it was so fun to see them trying to use American accents (since the production is set in Chicago...). I think the person teaching them how to talk with an American accent was the descendent of half New Yorkers and half people with a deep southern drawl. All the same, the production was fabulous.
One other thing I have noted is that babies are sort of like an accessory here. While in America teen pregnancy or one woman with a herd of children is moderately frowned upon, the British seem to encourage the population boost merely so that they can dress them up and get the latest stroller model. EVERYONE has a baby. I've seen strollers with umbrellas to keep the sun out of little jr.'s eyes and strollers with built in fans to keep jr. cool and ones in seriously every color. I am not sure what to make of this but if I were to give out stock market adivce I would say buy some stock in British strollers today.
On the other hand, they do have "tea people" who walk around all the offices and make sure you have hot tea all the time. We don't have that in America. This makes it a pretty tough call as to which country is better.
We went to see the musical Chicago last night in Covent Garden. I have seen the movie about 16 dozen times but it was so fun to see them trying to use American accents (since the production is set in Chicago...). I think the person teaching them how to talk with an American accent was the descendent of half New Yorkers and half people with a deep southern drawl. All the same, the production was fabulous.
One other thing I have noted is that babies are sort of like an accessory here. While in America teen pregnancy or one woman with a herd of children is moderately frowned upon, the British seem to encourage the population boost merely so that they can dress them up and get the latest stroller model. EVERYONE has a baby. I've seen strollers with umbrellas to keep the sun out of little jr.'s eyes and strollers with built in fans to keep jr. cool and ones in seriously every color. I am not sure what to make of this but if I were to give out stock market adivce I would say buy some stock in British strollers today.
01 July 2008
So that will be one bowl of cheese with your chesty cough?
A baker's dozen (that's 13) of people told me throughout the day that today is the hottest day of the year in London. It is currently 79 degrees. To my coworkers, 79 degrees is cause for tank-tops and industrial sized floor fans and lots of frozen lemonaide. To me, 79 degrees makes me antsy because usually it means it will be followed by an additional 20 degrees two weeks later. I welcome the sun, clouds, and even the rain because this city never stops -- unless baguettes go on sale because, next to the Queen, baguettes are the most important thing in any Brit's life.
nice weather and fun events - making me the Martha Stuart of
I've been playing hostess for the past week. While I loved the company and being able to show off my amazing city, I selfishly admit that it is nice to finally have my tiny room back to myself. London cooperated with
nice weather and fun events - making me the Martha Stuart of London student dorm-hood. I sent them home to the states with loads of pictures and a deep chesty cough which I picked up on the subway one day and won't go away.
Work continues to be busy and I am thankful that I can blame any mistakes on my internship-ness. I have taken on a huge project and I work on it all day every day (with the exception of my one hour lunch break which I spend people-watching in the park) as if it were a life or death matter. But to me it is. If my bosses are impressed perhaps there is a job in it for me when I graduate. It would be tough to have to relocate back to this big, beautiful city but I think I would manage. I still get star-struck when I have to call Hugh Grant's publicist or mail some props to the set of Harry Potter but I try to hide it. Especially now with my raspy, chesty, cough voice AND my American accent no one can really understand me any way. Case in point: yesterday for dinner I ordered soup, a slice of baguette with cheese and a glass of white wine. I was brought a bowl of soup, a bowl of cheese, an entire baguette, and a glass of room-temperature water. Cool.
Tower Bridge...
at 9 am....
in the pouring rain
Stonehenge
The Roman Baths
My new best friend: Jack Black
Tonight we sat in Hyde Park and listened to JACK JOHNSON do what he does best: sing sing sing. With some sushi in one hand and some British magazines in the other, it was a perfect evening. Scalpers kept asking me if I wanted to buy a ticket to go into the concert but I liked my rendition of a Jack Johnson concert much better.
26 June 2008
Real Londoners wear black
Real Londoners wear black. This is what I have discovered by playing my new game I fondly refer to as “guess where people are from based on what they are wearing.” Everyday during my hour-long lunch break I wander down the street behind the building where I work through this adorable produce and flower market. Whatever smells the strongest is what I buy (and I usually regret buying it because it, in fact, smells the strongest) and then I sit on the curb and people watch. This is what I have concluded:
Anyone wearing all black, or all khaki: real, legitimate Londoner
Anyone wearing bright colors/crocs/skimpy clothes: Americans
It is hard to sum up all that I have seen and done in the last few days. Somewhere between Big Ben, Parliament, church at Westminister Abbey, high tea at the Kensington Palace, late night stroles on the London Bridge and cute British pubs I have found little time for sleep. Observing this lifestyle is not enough- I want to live it. I've been drinking tea instead of coffee and am constantly referring to french fries as "chips." Probably because "chips" have become a staple in my diet recently. Oh well, when in Rome....
Tonight was the European premier of Kung Fo Panda. While I was not jumping up and down to see this flick, I was really excited to see Angelina Jolie, Jack Black (who was close enough that I could have kissed him, if I had decided to do so) and Dustin Hoffman. We are all kind of best friends now. No big deal.
While I love my job (and moderately feel like a British version of the Hills on occasion) I feel like work is just something to pass the time between each cute produce market, Shakespeare in the park performance, or afternoon tea. I miss home, but for now I am satisfied with this being home.
18 June 2008
they even gave me my own stapler...
I'm a working girl now. I officially started my internship in the product placement department of rogers and cowan public relations. The office is in this huge high-rise building in the very middle of London. I have all of the big-girl-job necessities: computer, desk, a variety of colored pens, my own email address...and my very own stapler! Basically I've been researching new movies and television shows that are in the process of being filmed or are about to start filing and then cold-call their movie and television production companies to persuade them to use our client's products as props. It is quite brilliant really. With things like TiVo and being able to watch television online, commercials are being phased out. BUT, if you can embed the products into the shows that consumers already watch then you are accomplishing the same thing. I get to work with all kinds of on-screen stars but I don't know who any of them are because I don't watch British television. It's pretty cool all the same.
As my boss was introducing me to everyone in the building they kept saying "Elise? As in Lotus Elise the car?" Lotus is one of Rogers and Cowan's big clients and so we keep a Lotus Elise in the basement to be able to loan it out to sets quickly. Naturally since my name is also Elise I wanted to sit in it. It was the most beautiful car I have ever seen-- way more attractive than Leverne!!
Getting to work has been quite an adventure because there are two million other people trying to get to work at that very same time. I have to take two different tube (subway) lines and literly have to judo-chop my way onto the trains. We are so crammed that we stand on each others' feet and fall on each other when the tube stops too suddenly. This is what I absolutely love about London. We don't really have things like this in Manhattan, Kansas.
They also have these annoying men standing at the exit to every tube station passing out free trashy papers and yelling at you. I get the impression that most people don't like this, but they sort of remind me of the ADD SHEET. This is what I absolutely love about London. There are small things that remind me of home!
I've been going out "adventuring" every night with the other girls on my flat. Last night we went to the Sherlock Holmes Pub where all the props for the movie are kept. It was a fun hanging out with locals who automatically think we are cool merely because of our American accents. Then we went walking around on the London Bridge and taking pictures of all of the street entertainers. This is what I absolutely love about London. Everything looks beautiful even in the dark.
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