Little Miss London

Are you watching the game?

noreply@blogger.com (Mallory) — Sun, 15 Jun 2014 21:36:00 +0000

I feel like I have been asked this multiple times today.

"The game" is a generic term that means something completely different depending on your current city. In San Antonio "the game" clearly means the NBA finals where the Spurs will take home the title. "The game" in England is clearly the World Cup. (And the US plays tomorrow - so that's what people here are referring to.

My mom was shocked and slightly appalled when I had to ask "which game". She doesn't know that you can't walk outside here without being smacked in the face with World Cup.

Which leads me to the following comic:

This comic cracked me up. But instead of it being "the internet" it is "the continent that I currently live on".

I make jokes, but really? I think this is how outsiders must see a college ("uni") football game in Texas. "Cult" could describe all passionate sports fanatics... Spurs, football, futbol...

Oh. But I never answered the question. Will I watch "the game", well.... Maybe the first hour at a pub with friends.. You know, until I have to go to sleep since it's umm a work night? Basically, this is not the time zone to live in to conveniently watch sports in the Western Hemisphere.

Good night sports fanatics. This girl is signing off. But don't worry, it's nothing a good cup of coffee can't fix. (Unless of course your team loses - whichever team that is)

Strike!

noreply@blogger.com (Mallory) — Mon, 05 May 2014 07:33:00 +0000

Tube strike. An 2ish day event that completely and utterly sucks. It's when the London metro employees strike for more benefits and create a giant inconvenience for most of the London population.

I love not having to drive anywhere. You don't have to worry about who is driving, the annoying drivers on the road, or if you can have that second glass of wine. I don't have to worry about how visitors will get around either.

All of this is ruined when the tube strikes.

Then you are left slightly helpless with either an hour walk (in the rain) to work or an hour taxi ride that will cost a fortune if you are lucky enough (and get up at the crack of dawn) to get one.

The positives? We have signs and news that let us know EXACTLY when then tube strike will be (And end!) Pretty orderly huh?

The negatives? We have signs and news that let us know EXACTLY when then tube strike will be. Then you can dread these days for a whole 2 weeks or so before the strike.

If anything, it makes me appreciate the public transit system and simultaneously hate it. Remind me of this next time I complain about the heat on the train in rush hours ;)

Super Bowl Sunday

noreply@blogger.com (Mallory) — Mon, 03 Feb 2014 08:05:00 +0000

That's a lie. More like super bowl Monday. The game here started roughly at 11:30pm. And some people have trouble keeping their eyes open watching football as it is?

This year, I had the honor of watching the super bowl in a suite at the hotel with the team. And this year? I finally realize how most of the avid-football-guys in America feel on any given Super Bowl Sunday.

(1) I knew more about football than most of the room. And by that, I mean I was the second-most-knowledgeable person in the room in regards to the sport. The topics of conversation included "what is a punt" and "why are some guys bigger than others".

(2) No one actually cared though! That's right, they asked questions to understand but not because they actually cared.

(3) The only part that mattered was the pre-game and half-time show. But oh wait, we can't see commercials here. In London we have to wait until they are on YouTube.

(4) Food was the emphasis. American wings, the novelty of "Budweiser", papa john's pizza, and Doritos were on the menu (I had no idea they had papa johns here. I ate my share for old times sake, I regret that decision...)

(5) Teams were picked based on ther colors. Or mascots. I'm not kidding. I'm coming to the UK to watch the Super Bowl every year!

(6) Oh yea, and we can talk during important plays. No one even knew which those were.

(7) We betted for the sake of betting and rooting for something. Not because anyone studied or had any clue who should win. Or by how many points. Or even if it is called a "touchdown" or a "home run".

Now, I know that I don't know a thing about rugby (except it's like football without pads?) or cricket. So I'm not saying that the international team SHOULD know the that the Seahawks running that many yards in the opening plays is a big deal... I'm just saying that it's nice to finally find a group of people who watch the games like I do. (For the camaraderie)

What I've learned from my homeless friends

noreply@blogger.com (Mallory) — Fri, 24 Jan 2014 19:44:00 +0000

I have been honored and blessed to have the opportunity to meet people from all across the world (mostly Europe) while in London the last year. However, I don’t think you always need to go that far to be inspired – the people you might learn the most from might be right at your door stoop, literally. The two people I believe to have influenced me the most (or at least a great deal) while on this journey have been Bingo and Joanne, two of my friends in London (who just happen to be homeless).

In Texas, it seems that we just roll up our windows at the intersection where people are begging for money. We do not get that personal, human-to-human, interaction that you do in a walking city (a London, NYC, etc). Which can really be quite a shame - because these two individuals have given me a slightly new perspective on life that I will take with me forever. I would like to share five of the lessons:

(1) A warm smile and a fist pump go a long way. People living in London are not exactly known to be the most open and friendly people (but then again, isn’t that most big cities?). I can go my entire commute without a look, let alone a smile. I am merely something in the way from other people who are “oh so important” who are trying to get from point A to point B. Once I befriended Bingo, I had someone who always greeted me with a genuine smile and a fist pump – even on my worst day. That small gesture sometimes made me feel just a little bit better when the rain and cold were getting the best of me.

(2) Bad things happen to good people. I was lucky enough to hear Joanne’s story. Her story could have happened to me, you, or anyone. Be grateful for what you have because you might not have it one day – And don’t pass any judgment, because tomorrow? You might find yourself in the same situation. Joana has the kindest of hearts and has almost been a Mom-away-from home for me in many aspects. She never asks me for a cigarette or an alcoholic beverage – when I beg her to let me buy her something? Yea, she asks for a prawn salad. Because it’s hard to get healthy food on a budget. Take the time and listen.

(3) It is all about how you look at things. Actually, in this case, literally. I could not get contacts to the UK for awhile (damn customs, etc). I had to wear my glasses (kill my ego now). Bingo patiently listened to my update every day on the contacts-saga. One day, when he asked about my day, I complained to him about how “frustrating the optometrist reception was” and “how customs stinks” and I’m wearing GLASSES again. I asked Bingo how he was and he said “I am blessed”. Well damn. Here I am complaining about glasses to a homeless man when I am about to walk into my warm hotel room on a rainy day, and he is the one who is blessed? Hm.

(4) Give back. Joanne volunteers with a passion. She volunteers at her church and she sang in a Christmas Choir group. She has every right to say “life threw me lemons” and not want to help people when others don’t always help her. But not Jo. She GIVES to those less fortunate. There is always going to be someone better off than you – and always someone less fortunate. If my friend Jo can give back, there is no reason the rest of us can’t.

(5) Friendship is really just a listening ear. Both Joanne and Bingo have been a listening ear and a warm consistent friend. They take the time to ask me daily about life/work/relationships/etc. It isn’t always about who you go to the bars with – it is about who is there for you when you just want to chat. Real friendship is that genuine interest in someone else’s life – which I can only hope that I bring to my other friendships and make my friends feel as special as they make me feel daily.

Just in time to see the bus fly by....

noreply@blogger.com (Mallory) — Sun, 12 Jan 2014 21:08:00 +0000

One thing that is different about London is my use of public transit. Good days start off with getting to the tube platform right as it pulls up. (If I get a seat... Well, might as well buy a lottery ticket that day)

Nothing hurts worse than looking at the bus tracker and seeing your bus "due" or "1 minute", sprinting to the stop, and - right before you get there - watching the bus fly by. (I never experienced "walking to my parking spot to see my car fly by... Thankfully, because that probably means it was just stolen)

The only thing that comforts me is that I notoriously sing the Saved By The Bell theme song (in my head, I'm not like that weird homeless man) and I feel strangely better. Shout out to Zach Morris and the early 90s.

... Now that I think about it, it's strange that they never made a "Saved by the bell: the middle-class working years" There could be a potential future for that?

Livin' the high life

noreply@blogger.com (Mallory) — Sun, 12 Jan 2014 08:15:00 +0000

... The title? Yea, that's a pun. Because I'm about to write a post about both flying and living in style. (Just wanted to make sure no one missed it)

Today is the day I finally made it. I was upgraded for the first time on British Airways to first class. (Oh yea! Revenge of the colonies <--- I'm slightly embarrassed that I just wrote that)

What does this means? On British, it means you have your own little cubical in the very front of the plane (pictures below). I had to retain my innerchild from jumping up and down in my area.

I don't know why I thought only famous (or really rich people) would be my companions. Turns out, I found myself in the company of 100% males, of which I was the youngest by about 20 years.

This means that (1) I got strange looks from people - or maybe I was just selfconscious (2) I was the only one that got the "female" style pack. I think it was the only one with a brush instead of a comb. But then again, most of these men could hardly use a comb (3) I had very little sleep. Probably due to the amount of snoring old men - seriously it's like the snoreberian orchestra. And not in a good way.

I tried to fit in and feel like I deserve first class, but that potential was lost by my teenage selfie that I had to take for proof

The flight attendant was rather concerned about feeding me. As he mentioned everytime (and allowed me to have multiple desserts - oops). I must have forgotten to order a vegetarian meal, since there is normally and option. But not in first class! Sigh. Well, maybe there was, but I had no idea how to read this menu. So many strange words! (Does your vocabulary have to increase to fly first?)

The flight attendant who proclaimed that he "didn't want to send me home hungry or my mom will wonder what those people on British airways are feeding me" took a meal from business class for me. (Damn straight! Pulling rank on my first day?!?)

We were also all served these weird little starters. It tasted of... Well... Not much to be honest. But it looked cool.

Oh, and they make your bed. Which means laying down a pad and giving you a warm comforter. Not too shabby. I woke up to a strange hair tie on my table. The attendant explained to me that he assumed it was mine "since I'm the girl". Hmmm. No - But I do wonder who else's it could have been?

In conclusion. Prince Harry was not on my flight. But turns out he's officially taken now anyways (hey, a girl can still dream right?

Multi-cultural coffee date

noreply@blogger.com (Mallory) — Sun, 01 Dec 2013 19:26:00 +0000

After my trip to visit Bryna in Zurich, I have decided that I am fascinated/in awe of the differences in cultures that exist from country to country. The Swiss have their own rules (no laundry on Sundays so you don't disturb your neighbors) and a unique culture that an ex-pat has much to learn to play by the rules of the proud country. I loved hearing about the cultural adjustments Bryna has had to make or adhere to as she transitioned from America to Brussles to Zurich.

Which leads me to my hypothetical coffee date. (Disclaimer: I know these are steoyotypes and don't apply to everyone, but there is truth to stereotypes - and I had this post second level reviewed by a trusty Portuguese friend and an American - thanks Pedro and Nate!) A Brit, an American, a Swiss, and a Portuguese meet for afternoon coffee.

The Arrival:

The Swiss is on time. Their public transit is efficient (thanks German influence!) and they appear clean and dressed to the nines.

The Brit is a few minutes late complaining of "tube issues" (whether or not there were any - the excuse always works) but you believe them because their shirt is sticking to their back.

The American might be a moment late, but unlike te Brit, the American has the luxury of texting while driving. Which they probably did. They probably then also started a conversation via text on their way to coffee.

Where is the Portuguese? Good damn question. Everyone else is saying the same thing. They probably show up half way through the coffee date. If lucky. (But we will pretend they show up now to continue)

The Greeting:

Three kisses from the Swiss, two from the Portuguese (and if it's a male, it definitely means you will have rough beard scratches on your face), a handshake from the American (or what we call a "side hug").... and one kiss from the Brit, or a handshake, or weird hug (But it will definitely be slightly hesitant and awkward)

The Drink Choice:

Portuguese - espresso (wow, did you even wonder?!)

Brit - tea (which means black tea) and probably with milk. But the correct milk to tea ratio only.

Swiss - they are proud of their hot chocolate, and any coffee will due, or straight up glugenhiem (mulled wine) mid day because it's so damn cold.

American- coke. Maybe diet coke. Because it's 'merica. And they do what they want.

Conversation:

For the Brit? The conversation will definitely be about the weather. This is new company afterall, don't get too personal too fast. Better to talk about the ever changing weather (that's sarcasm, which the British also do quite well - and will let you know that their humor is far more superior.)

If the American is male, they will talk about football. But not everyone else's football. American football (clearly). But the others all expect this level of self cernteredness. The American is SHOCKED that the others don't know all the NFL teams or that the aggies are part of the SEC now. He is then shocked when they ask what an "Aggie" or "SEC" is.

The Swiss have nothing bad to talk about. They all have money (that's not a joke) and they all seem happy. All. The. Time. They probably just talk about their weekend ski trips. They also might brag a bit about their money - or at least buy everyone a really nice present (seriously, I need to make more Swiss friends) and talk about their new Audi.

The Portuguese will talk about their family and their country. It's debatable which they love more. And you better not make fun of either. Portugal is not a joking matter. Back. Off. Rest of the world.

The Bill:

The Portuguese will complaining about their salary compared to the others.

The Swiss gets a standard of living adjustment. They are happy.

The Brit is trying to remember whose "round it is".

The American didn't realize you have to ask for the bill. The others will also laugh when they add a tip.

The Goodbye:

They will all wish each other "Merry Christmas". Except the American who will say "Happy Holidays" (pat on the back for being politically correct). Oh yea, and repeat the kissing number differences/side hugs like before.

Maybe they all say goodbye in their respective language. Thankfully this American isn't dumb enough to offend the Portuguese by saying goodbye to them in Spanish. But no one understands the language coming from the Swiss. Is that German? French?

The Departure:

The group is faced with a busy street upon leaving and are all trying to get to dinner...

The Swiss walks like they are the most important person on the street in a hasty manner (it's their French influence).

The American tells the person trying to cut the lines (or "queue jump") exactly "what's up" in a confrontational manner.

The Brit pushes others out of the way slightly and in an appearingly orderly manner. And gives a fake apology if he/she hits someone.

The Portuguese is still at the table having the third espresso. They are in no rush, they aren't even eating dinner until 10pm. They will probably be late anyways.

Run-ins with the British stiff upper lip

noreply@blogger.com (Mallory) — Wed, 27 Nov 2013 08:30:00 +0000

It is not a lie. The Londoners have a stiff upper lip. Perhaps it is just "being in a big city". (But isn't Dallas a big city?) Either way, after 10 months, I am still surprised from time to time of the lack of southern hospitality that I'm use to at home.

Let's recall a recent episode of a language barrier.... That was not a barrier but more of a passive aggressive fight.

I wanted to get my bangs trimmed. I called a place in central London, close to where I live. Also in the heart of TOURIST central.

Me: Hi, I was wondering if I could get my bangs cut.

Lady: Yes, you can get your FRINGE cut

(Now, I happen to know that the Brits call bangs "fringe", and I'm all about adapting to the culture... But lady, you work in central London on the most touristy tube station. What if I didn't know? Oh yea, and you are in the service industry)

Me: How much does it cost to get my BANGS cut?

Lady: We charge 5 pounds to get your FRINGE cut.

Me: So if I want to get my BANGS cut, do I need an appointment? Or just walk in and ask for a trim for my BANGS?

Lady: Just call and say you want to get your FRINGE trimmed and we will make an appointment.

Ahhhhh. I nearly hung up the phone and said "BANG you very much".

Thanksgiving of an expat

noreply@blogger.com (Mallory) — Tue, 26 Nov 2013 08:30:00 +0000

For all those people who have asked (including the hotel concierge), NO I am NOT going home for thanksgiving. It's simply a bad time to go on the project and it just didn't sound like the end of the world when I made the decision not to fly home for only 4 days with December around the corner.

And yes, I know that there are some restaurants that "serve thanksgiving food". But being away makes you realize it's not about the stuffed squash that Mrs. Katims makes. It's much more about the people you spend it with and the family traditions. You can "eat turkey and stuffing" on a random Tuesday in May if you want. I don't think expats miss the turkey as much as family and friends.

And then today, I had a new realization. I was walking to work and was thinking of the random items of clothing I need to get. Such as heels since this city (I'm convinced) actually eats them. And work pants/trousers (depending on what country you are from) since walking to work and riding the tube actually wears out your clothes more. And a new coat because turns out you can never have enough.

Then it hit me. Whoa. I am missing "the day after thanksgiving" shopping. Noooooo. Travesty.

Turns out I will be missing my family, friends, and day after shopping. Sigh.

(Side note: seeing as I am a vegetarian, I'll actually be eating Turkish food on thanksgiving. I think that counts, right?)

Pub culture - Extreme edition

noreply@blogger.com (Mallory) — Thu, 21 Nov 2013 20:41:00 +0000

There is no question about it. London had a pub culture (that is probably not a surprise to you).

We are working late hours? Let's get a drink to console ourselves. We aren't working late? Let's celebrate with a pint.

It's cold out? Nothing like a drink inside a warm pub - what else is there to do! Warm out? Grab a pint outside a pub to enjoy the weather.

Sports are played in pubs. Work meetings are held in pubs. Dates are held in pubs.

The thing about the British pub culture is they have a little rhyme that goes "eating is cheating"... Which means that people go straight to the pubs and drink themselves silly without dinner (except for those sneaky Brits that grab pret sandwiches on the way and try not to tell anyone). This is the worst rhyme ever (especially if you are a Portuguese colleague who values a long dinner the way some of is value our iPhones... Or tv shows like Breaking Bad)

"Eating is cheating" is the cause of events like this. In the tube station.

Yes, that man is sleeping on a stack of newspapers. Soundly. Guess a good pint is better than Advil PM?

Halloween across the pond

noreply@blogger.com (Mallory) — Tue, 05 Nov 2013 21:34:00 +0000

The evolution of Halloween in the states:

(1) You dress up like your favorite superhero and go trick-or-treating

(2) Then you become "of age" and you dress up in a costume that is more scandalous and go to a college party

(3) Suddenly, you embark on your mid-late twenties and you wake up on November 1st to see Facebook covered with pictures of babies and dogs in costumes.

But we all know this. Let's talking British Halloween...

(1) Children may actually never hear or know of trick-or-treating. Did you read that right? THE KIDS DONT TRICK OR TREAT. And the ones who do? Go to prearranged houses... Good luck getting a pillowcase full of candy with that one..

(2) You become an adult and you GASP may not celebrate it, and if you do? Well, you actually dress scary (you heard me right boys, no scandalous costumes..)

(3) Oh wait, none of my British friends have kids so I don't actually have British children dressed up on my newsfeed... Hmm

This is something that should be plastered all over travel guides... I imagine it like a reverse "Mean Girl" situation where an American would dress scandalously at a British party where people are dressing like scary zombies and mummies etc.

No one brought Halloween candy into the office either. What a strange twist on normality. My team however went on a haunted London bus tour (which you could also take in June) organized by an American (me..) The team was highly encouraged to dress up.

Where are all the Aggies?

noreply@blogger.com (Mallory) — Thu, 12 Sep 2013 12:00:00 +0000

This might just be the strangest September I have ever witnessed. While my facebook feed is filled with gameday tailgating and "whooping" and maroon wardrobes, I come to work eachday with radio silence in regards to college football. (gasp)

Today, I brought up the game this Saturday. I invited the team to watch it on Saturday at the one pub in the city that will be playing the game (insert another gasp). Strangely, no one cared (and all had plans Saturday!? how strange). No one even wanted to trash talk me about Johnny Football. The only question I got was "Is football really his last name". Sigh.

By all means, I am not a diehard football fan. I will proudly wear my Maroon and sit at a bar/pub to watch the game - but suddenly I am a raging American football fan (to my coworkers). There is a sudden urge to throw my arms around my neighbors and teach them how to saw varsity's horns off. I might cry myself to sleep singing the fight song. (For the English people that read my blog: Yes, I know that you might not understand half the words in this post. but then again, that is how I feel everyday listening to you guys - or should I say "Y'all" - talk)

This will be my Kyle Field this weekend to watch A&M BTHO Bama:

Quite a long way away from this:

How to spot a tourist

noreply@blogger.com (Mallory) — Sun, 04 Aug 2013 19:49:00 +0000

I try really hard to quasi-blend in wherever I travel. Truth is, before I even open my loud strong-American-accent mouth, they probably already know I'm a tourist.

As my British-friend Ricky pointed out, I tend to make fun of the Brits quite a bit. Well, here you go Ricky... "How to spot a tourist" - by yours truly.

(1) They have their cameras set up. Everywhere. Even in front of everyday places.

(2) They wear "I Love London" tshirts. And bags. And they simply can't get enough of "keep calm and carry on" splattered on their outfits. (They also might be near a sightseeing tour bus as shown below)

(3) They have their luggage at a cafe. It is approximately 10 times more luggage than the average business man carries

(4) They never cross the street until the little green man is showing. Seriously? Who has time for that?!?

(5) They look lost and are carrying a map. (In this case they also might stare directly at you as you take the picture - maybe they wanted help?)

(6) If they aren't wearing London swag, they are probably wearing Abercrombie&Fitch

Where is the royal baby parade?

noreply@blogger.com (Mallory) — Wed, 24 Jul 2013 05:53:00 +0000

I was so happy to land in London to realize that Kate had held off having the baby a whole week for me to get back in town! I didn't want to miss this important event....

I expected all the streets in London to be filled with a parade for the royal baby (let's be honest, there is a parade for just about everything else in London). Infact, I expected the day off work on Tuesday so we could all watch this parade. It at least drinks at work. Or the day off early?

People keep asking me what it's like to be in London with the birth of the royal baby. The answer? It's like Tuesday.

Contrary to my expectations, no one was talking joyfully about the baby on the tube (no one was talking on the tube at all - per usual). The conversations on the elevator/at work were more influenced by the recent thunderstorm than the baby. There was a 21 gun salute at the Tower of London (which we can see from the office) and people did not rush to watch it through the windows (except me - and I missed the majority of it).

One of my coworkers walked by buckingham palace when the sign was revealed announcing the baby (by mistake) and reported back that it "was clearly all tourist and no Brits". Yes, there are some diehard Brits who waited outside the hospital for Kate plus one to appear but the thought of taking off work to stand there didn't exactly cross my mind.

Where is the parade?!?

Part of the lack of overwhelming excitement is due to the republican view that there shouldn't be royals and they are a waste of money etc. One of the online newspapers even has a "republican" button you can press that turns off all baby details.

Princess Anne, when asked what she thought of the royal baby said she was happy for the family but it doesn't effect her life. I think that's how several of my British friends feel too. It isn't "new news" that Londoners are more reserved than the average American.

In conclusion: the streets of London haven't joyously burst out in songs of praise the king and William did not yet hold the baby for a "reveal" like something out of lion king.

Sorry to disappoint. (But I was disappointed as well)

Proper passive agressiveness

noreply@blogger.com (Mallory) — Tue, 09 Jul 2013 17:00:00 +0000

I would venture to say every large workplace has passive aggressive moments. (No, I am not saying that "passive aggressive" is limited to the UK). What I am saying is that the non-confrontational nature of the British culture creates an environment where passive aggression thrives. (but then again at least no one is bringing a gun to the office? maybe sticky notes are the answer to safety issues?) These three notes were ALL discovered on the SAME half of the building on the SAME floor on the SAME day. I only wish that I had enough time to go on an "angry note scavenger hunt" and find all of the notes scattered around the rest of the building.

I'll be honest. My favorite is the "please wash your hands". because that was not added by a custodian.

Independence Day in "Great" Britian

noreply@blogger.com (Mallory) — Thu, 04 Jul 2013 07:32:00 +0000

Not that great if you can't beat a few rebel colonies if you ask me....

(Just kidding) The just kidding is for the English people who read my post (I think more English read my blog and so as I embark on a sassy post I hope that they know it is all in jest - cant actually afford to lose friends here!)

I have been asked several times what it's like to be an American celebrating the 4th in the UK. I think it is like winning a rival football game at their home and then getting to celebrate at their bars. Like winning a Texas A&M football game in Austin and then celebrating on 6th street decked out in maroon.... And singing some Aggie fight songs. (Yes, expect some American songs to be spontaneously played today in London... Especially at our team meeting)

What's better about the Fourth of July is that we already won the match and just get to keep celebrating it every year.

My British colleagues attempt to give us a hard time and say they are glad they dumped the colonies. But don't worry, I won a free room/drinks at a bar and they all seem to want to celebrate the 4th with me. Hm. (Guess their love of beer is stronger than their love of their country?!?)

Unfortunately, I write this post on my way to work. This week every team has to spend an hour shredding documents since we work on a confidential project (boo). My team has to shred ON THE FOURTH OF JULY! To me shredding sounds like a tax. I think I should be exempt.

Would you fancy the cinema?

noreply@blogger.com (Mallory) — Wed, 26 Jun 2013 07:24:00 +0000

Yes. Direct quote from a Brit.

"Fancy" and "cinema" in the same sentence.

Turns out you have to play by their rules when you are in their country... If you try to search for "movie theater" on google maps your only option will be the type of theaters that show plays and operas.

Cinema it is. You win google maps.

Informal beer tasting

noreply@blogger.com (Mallory) — Wed, 19 Jun 2013 06:12:00 +0000

Anyone who has seen my Facebook probably realizes that the beer/pub culture is a huge part of the British way of life (either that or it's just my mom who notices...) So naturally when I have one night to show Charlotte what London is all about, I take her on a tour of the British beers at the local pub behind my hotel (I mean, she can learn about the arts and theater through her study abroad program, right?)

How did I do this? I made an impromptu beer tasting experience (something more easily done in the UK) where I ordered half pints of a variety of beers so we could "sample" all of them. Pretty genius if you ask me- and an easy way to give her some "London culture" without us both crawling out of the pub.

Go to my happy place

noreply@blogger.com (Mallory) — Mon, 17 Jun 2013 19:34:00 +0000

Sometimes when the tube is 105 degrees and humid on the way to work and I'm uncomfortably pushed up against my sweaty neighbors - I listen to avicii and pretend I'm at ACL (music festival).

.... I usually am able to resist a fist pump in the subway.

Tourist in your town

noreply@blogger.com (Mallory) — Sun, 16 Jun 2013 19:35:00 +0000

It's not just me. Tons if expats here have the same issue. You just don't go to all the touristy places on your own. Maybe because we are actually living life here and doing things like.... Work.

I also realized that there is no need to do "touristy" things alone when I can wait for a friend to come visit and have the experience with a friend.

Insert Ashlyn coming to town! Ashlyn and I played tourist and did proper British things - Tower of London, afternoon tea, changing of the guards, Harrods.

It's funny to realize it took me 4 months to do some of the typical touristy things that others do in just a weekend. Makes me think of how many "touristy" things I missed out on in 3 years in Dallas. (Took me 2.5 years to actually go see where JFK was shot! Yes, I stood on the "x" in the middle of the road)

Really, the stop and go bus tours in your own town is not a bad idea.

Tea and Taxes

noreply@blogger.com (Mallory) — Thu, 30 May 2013 22:47:00 +0000

I love learning just how the British people view Americans & America. Three stories come to mind:

(1) I read a book (non fiction) about a British girl who moved to America at age 7 (or 9?) and when asked how she liked American, she proudly responded "well, I think it will be a great country when it grows up"

(2) This weekend I was at the Tower of London (more to come on my amazing weekend with Ashlyn later). We had a tour guide that explained to us "if only you guys had paid your taxes.... All this history could be yours"

(3) I had this online conversation with Michelle (see below). Background - I left me tea in the other room and she brought it back to me. (And yes, anyone who knows me is probably not surprised that I was talking and became absent minded and left my tea.)

Sweet Home Hotel

noreply@blogger.com (Mallory) — Mon, 27 May 2013 21:23:00 +0000

I think that you just truly feel at home living in a hotel the day that you shamelessly eat food off the carpet. (Don't "ew" at me! They probably vacuum this place more than you do your own house!)

Oh yes, and I cleared out all of the food in the fridge (do they say "fridge" in London? Ill have to notice sometime) so that I can use the baby "fridge" for my own stuff.

Summer coat

noreply@blogger.com (Mallory) — Mon, 27 May 2013 21:23:00 +0000

I posted a new profile picture today in Facebook. Yes, probably the lamest way to start a blog post, but stick with me. I posted a picture I took this weekend of myself in a coat, scarf, and sunglasses (yes! It was one of the oh, so, few sunny days I've had here!)

I was told from a girl I work with (Elif) said that its very "summery" since, you know, I'm wearing sunglasses. And I mean, definitely a more summer scarf since its not wool and covering my whole neck. I liked her comment. Yea, it is a summery pic for the changing of the weather! (You know, from cold and rainy to slightly less cold and rainy)

Then Memorial Day hit. And everyone is posting pictures that are tan, by the water, and in bathing suits. Well damn.

Has my idea of a summery pic changed? Sunglasses, a slightly less warm coat, and a "summery scarf" does not a summer make.

Sunscreen in Texas is a necessity to keep from frying past the point of peeking. Sunscreen in London is to "prevent wrinkles" since there might be just a few rays of bad uv rays seeping through the clouds. I wear sunglasses to remember what they feel like. The closest to a tan that I might get this year is store bought.

Summery pic?! Ha. It's all part of your perspective.

Proper research at the proper time

noreply@blogger.com (Mallory) — Sun, 12 May 2013 22:06:00 +0000

When going on a trip, most people do their proper research (especially when headed to a third world country). I completely missed this memo. I mean, I did my proper research, only problem? I completed the research in a reactive manner. Once I was already sunburned, sick from the water, and randomly bleeding from the head. Perhaps this could be avoided by spending some quality time with google before the trip (and less on Facebook?!?)

I will also note that the random otterbox search was due to my pending question of if I could break out of a potentially sketchy cab using my otterbox case in the situation came to that.

To avoid unnecessary additional posts I am also going to share some valuable tips from Iberian Air about how to exercise on a plane. Good to know... (See attached image)

Learn from my mistake. Research the hotels (bring toilet cleaner if needed), research safety, look into sanitation of a country and tips on preventative measures (maybe you won't eat fruit and salads and be on the lookout for tampered water bottles). Or? You can live life on the edge (or stupid/lazy) side and make this mistakes the hard way.

A seagull's paradise

noreply@blogger.com (Mallory) — Sat, 11 May 2013 19:08:00 +0000

Essaouira. The little sea town located two hours west of Marrakech (which I realize is a stupid comment since I literally had to have Nathan point out which country was Morocco on the Africa map WHILE on the trip, so why would I think you would know the actual location of Marrakech? ... And I know, lousy way to impress coworkers with my intelligence)

Essaouira is an old-style down with old-style fishing. You can see boats being pulled in by a group of 10 men, fish being divided up, sold, and cooked around the corner. Nathan walked through a dozen shops in a row that show you the catch of the day (most still alive) picked his fish, and had then grilled right there for lunch. Me as the vegetarian? Just tried to stomach it all (I did fine! Especially since I am overcoming a stomach bug.. Probably for drinking too much water? Or because I have a weak American stomach that needs to toughen up!)

The views are amazing, the simple way of life is humbling, and the beach? Well, I could listen to waves forever. In fact, I am as I write this now. I wish I could take more than pictures since it is impossible to capture the warmth from the sun ()3 brisk breeze, the crashing of the waves, and the white noise of French in the background. (Turns out people speak French in morocco... And I thought it was only in France! Again, my highschool Latin is really not helping me out much here. More so my charade skills - like pointing at the ocean to ask for water and acting out carbonation to explain that I don't want gas in my water.)