24 July, 2008 | 6 Comments

I’ve not been in a good mood lately, hence the lack of posting. I feel sorta weird, filled with conflicting, often unpleasant emotions and anxieties. I’ve been feeling this way for weeks now and I can’t shake it, so I’ll write about it, even though I don’t think I should.

In the hall of residence where I live, all the students have now left. In the summer, the place fills up with 18-year-old Americans who are on study abroad (more like ‘get drunk abroad’). A great many of the white middle-class American teenagers staying here are ill-mannered barbarians. They are, of course, teenagers. I am a thirtysomething woman and I simply do not want to be literally surrounded by them 24/7.  This is causing a lot of unhappiness in me, which is probably understandable. The group staying on my floor are so loud that I’ve had to relocate to the other side of the building. Whenever I would tell them to be quiet, they would mock me. I would go back to my room and call the security guard. That was the sensible thing to do, because the only other option was screaming at them in a blind, obscenity-filled rage. I decided not to go that route.

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22 November, 2007 | 4 Comments

Happy Thanksgiving! I spent a few hours today traipsing all over the snooty expat enclaves of Kensington and Belgravia trying to locate a bakery selling pumpkin pie. As you can see from the photos, I was successful in the end. Do not even ask me how much this pie cost. [And before someone asks the next obvious question, here's the answer: Because I don't have an oven, that's why.] I went to Whole Foods Market in Kensington first — apparently, they sold 300 pumpkin pies before noon and had nothing left for little ol’ me. I was determined to find a pie, which will be the extent of my Thanksgiving — there will be no turkey or yams with marshmallows for me, though I’m sure I can convince my mom to make this for me at Christmas. [Did I mention I got my ticket to go home? Yes, I'll be spending Christmas in...North Carolina, by way of Philadelphia, New York and Washington DC. Every time I go home it's a multi-state extravaganza.]

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31 October, 2007 | 2 Comments

When I think about things I miss in American life, holidays are right at the top of my list. I know everyone says that American holidays are crass and commercial and perhaps they are. But you know what? They’re also fun.

American holidays come with lots of holiday-themed candy and decorations and greeting cards and television specials that are played each year. In comparison, most holidays here are kinda sad and boring; most of them are just generic “bank holidays” that mean nothing. I love having Halloween and Thanksgiving to look forward to in the autumn, with the miniature candy for sale in the stores, the pumpkins everywhere. It’s weird not to have that. I miss it.

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29 October, 2007 | 1 Comment

Yippee!

8 April, 2007 | 4 Comments

Gratuitous cuddly bunnies for Easter. Awwww…

Last year what I really wanted for Easter was a Reese’s Peanut Butter Egg. My sister, being the evil sort, sent me a photo of herself eating one of these delightful confections. This year, I’m pleased to report, she schlepped over a few packages for dear ol’ sis (they were only mildly squished). After sharing them with too many people, this is the only one I have left:

Drats.

[Ooh, you know what I inherited when sis and her friend left? Wheat Thins!!! And stuff from Trader Joe's!!! Screw French pastries...]

But you know, even though I have my beloved Reese’s Eggs this Easter, I am still being subjected to sisterly torment. When sis was here visiting, I said one thing I really craved (and have *no* chance of getting) is Taco Bell. Oh, don’t roll your eyes you stuck-up Americans! You love Taco Bell and you know it!

Well, rather predictably, I just received this photo of a meal she ate upon her return to Hell-Ay:

And you wonder why I’m glad to be 6,000 miles away from her…

18 March, 2007 | 3 Comments

Over the past few weeks I have received not one, but two boxes of loot from the States. My dear friend William said he would send me anything I wanted from home. Here is what I asked for:

Lucky Charms, Fritos, Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups and lots o’ trash magazines. I hope you didn’t think that just because I live in Paris I am sophisticated and have refined tastes!

As if all that loot wasn’t enough, there was even more stuff in these boxes, including lotion, a journal, tea, brownies and cookies — more specifically: snickerdoodles! I bet I’m the only person in Paris with snickerdoodles.

And it seems I’m really on a roll. My sister is coming over here next week and I’ve already got her suitcase loaded with stuff, including books and DVDs, plus a giant bottle of Motrin IB. I am in desperate need of American-style ibuprofen. By “American-style” I mean a giant bottle filled with about 9,000 tablets, not the wussy little cardboard box of 20 pills they sell here, which they keep behind the counter at the pharmacy as if it’s deadly poison. Oh – and she’s also bringing Easter candy. It’s the least she can do after what happened last year.

My excitement over all of these items is rather pathetic, eh? You’d think that I live in Siberia. Well, there are days…

10 July, 2006 | 6 Comments

One of the advantages of living abroad is that you learn a lot about your own culture. Take, for instance, the act of smiling. I think Americans smile more and are friendlier than people from many other countries. There are regional variations, to be sure. People in the Northeast are much less friendly than people from other parts of the US, but in general it’s safe to say that Americans are a rather friendly bunch.

In France, American expats often complain that people in public always look so glum. The French, on the other hand, believe that Americans look moronic with big smiles plastered on their faces for no reason. An American expat in London wrote in the Guardian a while back:

In the UK overt displays of friendliness are taken as a sign of brain damage. This sounds horrible, but actually it’s a fairly good rule of thumb. Try to match your moroseness to those around you. Occasionally you will run across that rare British person who is not just friendly but outgoing, helpful, charming and loquacious. He is a con man.

This is obviously an exaggeration. I have met plenty of friendly people here. Well, one or two. (Only kidding!) From my experience, taxi drivers are by far the friendliest people in London. I’m not sure why this is, exactly. Perhaps they’re bored.

I never thought of myself as a person who smiled a lot until I came here. Since I’ve been in London people have commented on it. If the guy who sorts the mail in the building sees me coming, he will always collect my mail and hand it to me, “the girl who always smiles at me.” Huh? I really don’t consider myself to be an overly-friendly person, at least by American standards, so I find all of this to be quite amusing.

I think a great many people see the American habit of smiling and acting friendly towards strangers as being superficial. The American phrase “Have a nice day!” is ridiculed around the globe. I can understand why people think this kind of behaviour is insincere, but I don’t see it that way. While in some countries smiling almost always signifies genuine happiness or delight, Americans use smiling as a polite greeting or pleasantry in public. Most people with good manners will smile at a person they are engaged in a transaction with (at the bank, the post office, etc.). It’s not difficult to differentiate this kind of smile from a more heartfelt one.

I do think it’s important for Americans abroad (particularly women) to understand that smiling or acting friendly can sometimes send certain unintended signals. For example, men from certain…uh…non-English speaking cultures often assume that a woman who smiles at them in conversation or acts even the least bit friendly is hitting on them and probably wants to sleep with them. And if they find out you’re American – forget it! I was riding in the slowest lift on earth the other day with the Egyptian maintenance man. He struck up a conversation with me and his eyes lit up when I said I was American (so much for anti-Americanism). By the time we reached the lower ground floor, he was offering to teach me Arabic. I’m still not quite certain what he meant by that, but it felt gross.

Because of encounters like these, I think walking around like a stone-faced bitch has its advantages and I will probably do that more in Paris, though I really don’t want to. I often complain about the embarrassing habits of Americans, but I miss those overt signs of friendliness. Even when I lived in New York, I often found myself chatting with strangers while waiting at the supermarket or at the doctor – you can bond with complete strangers this way in a very short period of time. People here, at least in London, don’t really seem willing to strike up conversations with strangers at all. When I first got here, I often found myself in need of assistance in public – for example, asking a person at the bus stop how much a ticket cost. And people were more than willing to provide me with this kind of information, but once they gave it to me, they sort of backed up and averted their eyes, as if to say – “I helped you, now please don’t talk to me anymore.” I think Americans tend to interpret this kind of behaviour as coldness, when it’s just another way of being. No better, no worse, just different.

4 July, 2006 | 2 Comments

For whatever reason, I feel compelled to mention the 4th of July. I won’t be celebrating it this year because that would just be in poor taste. In general, I think patriotism is one of the most over-rated virtues, regardless of which country you come from. This doesn’t mean that I’m not grateful to have been born an American and a citizen of a Western, “free” nation. I never take my rights for granted and even though I’m not one for flag waving and crying during the national anthem, I did take a moment to reflect on that today. So to all of you American readers, enjoy your day off and your BBQ and your fireworks!

15 June, 2006 | 3 Comments

I went to the American Embassy today for the first time. They actually have an IRS office there and I wanted to drop off my federal taxes in person. Since I’m living abroad, I got an automatic extension until June 15th. So naturally, I waited until June 14th to complete everything.

The embassy is rather easy to find – it’s the big ugly building surrounded by scores of concrete barriers to protect it from car bombs. I’ve never seen another building in London that is such a fortress. After walking through the maze of barriers and fences I encountered a rather jolly English security guard. I told him I wanted to go to the IRS office and he said I shouldn’t bother, that I should keep my money and spend it. I asked him why the embassy was being protected by machine-gun toting Brits, rather than Americans. He said it makes more sense this way, because if the embassy is attacked, the British will die before the Americans. I found him quite amusing. He also sang to me in French, though I’m not sure what I did to deserve that.

I am so glad to be done with my taxes, you have no idea. Last night I was almost in tears. I had to file three different returns (one fed, two state). On one of the state returns, because I was only a part-year resident, I had to take my adjusted gross income and add, subtract and divide it, like, ten times to arrive at my estimated tax or something. And what I ended up with was a huge negative number, like $-999. Surely that can’t be right? I screwed something up, obviously, but instead of having a meltdown over this, I just changed the negative numbers to zeros. And the good news is that now I get back three hundred bucks! [If you want me to do your taxes next year, I’ll totally do it.]

So I handed over my tax return to the woman in the embassy and she stamped it, assured me it was on time and that was it. It’s horrible to think that our tax dollars are paying for these soulless bureaucrats to live in London. Before I left, one of the Americans working in the office said to the person standing next to me – “Here, this is yers.” Yers! I haven’t heard someone say that in months.

Statue of Franklin Roosevelt in Grosvenor Square, next to the embassy.

September 11th memorial in Grosvenor Square.

Close-up of September 11th memorial. ["Grief is the price we pay for love."]

Tags: American Embassy, Taxes

3 May, 2006 | Comments

A new study shows that despite spending twice as much on healthcare, Americans are twice as sick as the English and trail most industrialized nations in terms of life expectancy.  You can read the article for all the details and analysis.  But as I’ve previously written on this blog, Americans work too much and don’t consider quality-of-life.  I think that’s a big factor in the health disparity.

20 April, 2006 | 7 Comments

…just moved out. Yee-ha! I live in student accommodation, though I have my own self-contained flat, thank goodness. My next door neighbour was an embarrassment to all of the Americans living here. The first time I met him, he was wearing a t-shirt that said New York F—kin’ City (without the dashes). Oh, did I mention he’s from Long Island? Is that relevant?

After I saw the t-shirt, I asked him if he actually walked around London wearing it. He said he did and that “people seemed to like it.”

When he first moved in and was lonely, he invited me over to see his new set of kitchenware from Argos. The set contained two egg cups, which he proudly told me were shot glasses. I also got to hear about the reality TV show he was flying to LA to audition for and also about his former girlfriend, the Miami Dolphins cheerleader. (Just imagine me on the receiving end of this conversation.) (more…)

18 April, 2006 | 3 Comments

In honor of baseball season, which has just kicked off in the United States, I would like to extend some friendly advice to the Londoners and various Europeans I see roaming the streets wearing New York Yankees baseball caps.

My dear friends, I totally understand why you think wearing Yankees merchandise is cool. The Yankees are probably the American sports team with the most global reach. As such, their logo is mistakenly considered to be a hip symbol of Americana, like Elvis Presley or handguns. But as your friend, I’m here to tell you that by wearing the Yankee logo anywhere on your person, you are sending out the following messages:

I Love Wussy Pretty Boys

Satan, Lord of Darkness, Is Swell

If Given the Chance, I’d Squeeze Derek Jeter’s Ass

These aren’t the kinds of signals you want to send out, are they? I didn’t think so. Now that you know exactly what the Yankees logo stands for, persist in wearing it at your own risk. Whatever you do, don’t wear it if you visit Boston. Otherwise, you might be beaten senseless by a guy with no neck.

Links:

Yankees Hater

Yankees Suck

Boston Dirt Dogs

Yankee Doodle Dimwit, Johnny “Benedict” Damon

11 April, 2006 | 1 Comment

Two of my fellow expat bloggers in London, Jen and Vol, have written about a recent Financial Times article that discusses the large number of American immigrants to the UK. Americans even outnumber Bangladeshis! As of 2001, there were 155,000 US-born people living in Britain – and this doesn’t take into account the hordes of American students that take up residence here temporarily and drive everyone crazy. (This doesn’t include me, of course.)

The Financial Times article is only available via subscription so I haven’t been able to read the whole thing. But if they had interviewed me, I would have said the main reason there are so many Yanks here is because Americans are too lazy to learn a foreign language. So if you want to move to Europe and remain monolingual, well, you don’t have many choices. As for me, I’m learning French (she added cryptically). Seriously, though, I do think the lack of a language barrier is the main attraction. Americans are lazy and our school system sucks. Next stop, London!

9 April, 2006 | 5 Comments

Easter candy is my favourite holiday candy of the year. Christmas and Halloween don’t hold a candle to it. My favourites have traditionally been Cadbury Crème Eggs and Reese’s peanut butter eggs, though newer additions to the scene, such as Snickers eggs and Mounds eggs are also quite holy and divine. Bliss. I also eat a few Peeps (pictured) each year. They are disgusting, but devouring a marshmallow chick is required of every American.

Given that I’m supposed to abstain from dairy products, Easter candy can be dangerous. But this year, I have totally resisted temptation and I think it’s because there isn’t much Easter candy here. True, this is Cadbury headquarters, but Crème Eggs are for sale here all year round, as opposed to in the States, where the luscious darlings appear at Easter and then vanish, making them rare treats. The rest of the candy I listed is not for sale here anywhere that I have seen.

In American grocery stores, for every holiday, there is a whole aisle set aside to be filled with all sorts of goodies related to that holiday, mostly candy and decorations. You cannot go grocery shopping in America right now without walking down a pastel-coloured aisle filled with Easter baskets and plastic green grass and Peeps and Reese’s eggs and…god, I’m making myself hungry. Perhaps such supermarkets exist outside of London. Perhaps people out in Crumpetville, UK, are stuffing themselves with Peeps right now. If so, I’m jealous.

Really, what I’m trying to say is, I would kill for a Reese’s peanut butter egg. I know, I know, a Reese’s peanut butter cup is similar, but it’s just not the same.

15 February, 2006 | 2 Comments

I need to order a copy of my birth certificate from the State of California. In order to do this, I must fax to them a sworn statement proving who I am. Apparently, birth certificates cannot be given to just anyone. Who knew? My sworn statement has to be notarized, which I didn’t think would be a problem. After all, in the US, you can walk into practically any bank and get something notarized for free within 5 minutes.

Well, I have spent the whole morning visiting banks trying to find a notary. Most people I’ve talked to look at me like I’m totally nuts. They are mystified by my request. One woman said she was a notary but would not notarize anything for me because she doesn’t know me personally. She suggested asking my doctor to notarize something. HUH? Finally, a guy at Barclay’s said I’d have to go to a lawyer. He understood my confusion because he knew something about the American notary system. So I looked up a few lawyers who possess the almighty power of the notary and rung them for price info. They charge anywhere from £40 to £60 for one signature!!! This is around $100!!! Am I missing something here? Do people in England really have to shell out that much cash to get something notarized? I find this hard to believe.

15 February, 2006 | 2 Comments

Bastards. I switched my iTunes account from the US to the UK because there’s a song on the UK version that I desperately wanted. Instead of paying .99 cents (equal to .56p) for a song, I had to pay the equivalent of $1.27 (.79p). What’s up with that? If I weren’t too lazy to switch my account back to my US credit card, I’d do it! But no, instead, I will stand in solidarity with the people of the UK and Europe who are being ripped off. Luckily, I downloaded the Brokeback Mountain soundtrack before making the switch. Whew. Saved almost $4 (£2.30) on that little doozy.

16 January, 2006 | 3 Comments

Today is Martin Luther King Jr. Day, a national holiday in the U.S. I am taking today off as well, because all my friends and family at home get the day off and I refuse to be left out!

In Britain, there are no national holidays that recognize individual people or events. (By “holiday” I mean the kind where people get the day off, the only kind that count, IMO.) All the public holidays are either tied to Christian holy days (Easter, Christmas) or are just generic days off called “bank holidays.” And there are relatively few of them, which is quite depressing. After the summer bank holiday at the end of August (sort of like Labor Day), there is nothing until Christmas!!! I was in major holiday withdrawal last fall. In the U.S., there’s Columbus Day in October, and Veteran’s Day and Thanksgiving Day (a two-day celebration) in November. In Britain there’s zilch! Perhaps this is why the whole country shuts down for the week between Christmas and New Year’s.

Remarkably, the UK has no holiday equivalent to the American Fourth of July. Gordon Brown (Tony Blair’s next-in-command) has recently suggested that the Brtis adopt such a holiday for themselves. My fellow American blogger in London, The Vol Abroad, has written on this issue.

While I do think the Brits need more holidays, I like their idea of having generic bank holidays, rather than days that honour specific people or events. In the U.S., we have Columbus Day and President’s Day, two lame holidays if you ask me. And invariably, people and events that should be honoured with a holiday are left out because we cannot simply keep adding more holidays to the calendar. To remedy this problem – and at the same time lower the ballooning national deficit – I recommend letting large corporations bid on U.S. holidays each year. So next year, Memorial Day could become Microsoft Day. Columbus Day could become Eli Lilly Day, in honour of the national drug, Prozac. You get the idea. As long as Americans continue to get time off, I don’t think they’d mind. And what could be more American then honouring our corporate gods?

24 November, 2005 | Comments

Happy Thanksgiving to my American friends! I celebrated the holiday this evening with fellow American students at Smollenskys on the Strand. They offered a fixed price dinner of turkey and roasted veggies and pecan pie. While the food certainly didn’t taste like “Thanksgiving” to me (duck burrito as a starter, anyone?), it was the spirit of the day that mattered.

Be thankful!

6 November, 2005 | 3 Comments

Two girls, 22-ish, riding the Piccadilly Line:

“The water here is, like, so bad for my hair. Look at it!”

30 October, 2005 | 2 Comments

Back in August, before I left Boston, I mailed seven heavy boxes of books to London. These were my favourite books, culled from a rather large collection. I could only afford to send the boxes via M-bag, which meant they’d be shipped by sea and arrive within four to six weeks. I honestly never expected all of the boxes to arrive. It pained me to part with them at my local Massachusetts post office.

Four weeks later, three of the boxes turned up on my London doorstep. Then NOTHING for weeks. I thought my fears were confirmed (because who really has faith in any government agency?) but then lo and behold, this past week the remaining four boxes arrived, battered and bruised. To my surprise, the books inside the tattered boxes were in perfect condition.