Rounding Out the Blog

I've gotten a lot of questions from people about whether I will continue this blog or even start a new one now that i'm in the Virgin Islands. The answer, simply, is no. I mainly used the blog to keep in touch with family and friends and, now that I have a US telephone number again, I think you all can just call me to see what's going on in my life.

Bobby is doing a blog where he posts one photo he takes from the islands every day, so you can follow our adventures somewhat there: www.usvidailyphoto.com

I do want to write one more post rounding out our stay in London, but haven't had the time to do that yet. Hopefully soon.

For now, goodbye, thanks for following all of our adventures over the last 2 years. They were amazing. I miss London already, but am confident that the VIs hold many new and exciting things for us.

Crazy Man

As most of you know, whether to leave London or not has been a very difficult decision for me. I love this city, its vibrancy and beauty. I think that it is the single greatest city in the world and that I will never be as constantly stimulated by a place as I have been here. Every day, I go back and forth with myself as to whether i'm actually ready to leave.

A few nights ago, I was having one such argument with myself as I was walking some trash to the dumpster around 9:30 pm. As I was returning to our flat, a man on the street walked right up to me and spat in my face for no apparent reason. I stood there, stunned, before yelling a profanity. The man then started yelling even louder and more vulgar profanities, which made me realize that he could do a lot worse to me than spit in my face. I ran back to the flat and locked myself inside, shaken from the experience.

So, I would like to thank you, crazy Bangladeshi man on the street, for confirming that leaving London is the right decision. I now think that I am ready to leave. When i'm sitting on the beach in St. Thomas, my heart yearning for the hum of London, I will remember how much higher my risk of getting Tuberculosis from crazy people with a habit of spitting in unsuspecting victims mouths is in London and be happy I left.

Things I Love About London, Part X: The Sunday Roast

A second blog about food I like in the UK? Well, yes, but I don’t think any of the food that is involved in a Sunday Roast (other than Yorkshire Pudding) is specifically British, so I’m not giving them credit for this one.

One of our favourite Sunday traditions while living in London has become sleeping in on a Sunday morning, only rousing ourselves around 2 or so that we can wander over to the pub and get a Sunday Roast. What is a Sunday Roast? Imagine a mini-Thanksgiving dinner once a week and you’ll be on the right track.

Traditionally, Sunday Roasts are served at pubs, but you can also get them at most restaurants and cafes. They’re generally served from about 12-5 on a Sunday afternoon and are perhaps the greatest hangover cure of all time.

A Sunday Roast usually consists of:

· Some sort of roasted hunk of meat (usually beef, chicken or lamb although we have found pork and vegetarian options in some places)
· Veggies (roasted or steamed carrots, broccoli, cabbage….)
· Yorkshire Pudding (*drool* see previous post)
· Gravy (enough said)
· Potatoes (mashed or “mash” as the Brits say or sometimes roasted)
· Pint of Beer (optional, but strongly encouraged)

After spending an hour or so at the pub eating your roast and watching a football (aka soccer) game, you’re just full enough to go home and go back to sleep- making your Sunday completely unproductive and incredibly perfect.

Things I Love About London, Part IX: Yorkshire Pudding

Since my time in London is rapidly coming to an end (less than a month now), I figured I should do a few final frantic blog posts on things I love about London. I often feel that there are too many to count, but these are a few I have been meaning to blog about for awhile.

Things I Love About London, Part IX : Yorkshire Pudding

You may have noticed that quite a few of my Things I Miss About America blogs revolve around food, but very few of my Things I Love About London blogs do the same. That’s because, quite simply, I find British food horrible. Everything is rather flavourless, deep fried, and overcooked. Yesterday, I saw a sign outside a restaurant advertising boiled bacon. Only the British could manage to ruin something as amazingly delicious as bacon.

There is one huge exception to my dislike of British food. That is the little bit of heaven that is known as Yorkshire Pudding. Now, let me start off by explaining that in England, pudding can refer to either a sweet or savoury bread-based product. Also, in England, all desserts are referred to by the general term “pudding.” So, it can be a bit confusing. What we (the Americans) know as pudding (aka- the custard-like deliciousness that is always associated with Bill Cosby in my mind) doesn’t really exist here- much to my disdain.

In the case of Yorkshire Pudding, “pudding” refers to a savoury bread-like product that is served with the main part of a meal. It originated in the Yorshire region of England (hence the name) in the 1700s because cooks wanted to make use of the leftover meat-droppings at the bottom of the pan after cooking a roast. They combined these droppings with batter, and Yorshire Pudding was born.

As these cooks found out, and I now know, batter + animal fat/juices = AMAZING. Today, Yorkshire Pudding is most often served with a Sunday Roast (see future blog post). If you’re lucky, it will come in little bowl shapes and be filled with gravy (*drool*). I should have let bobby blog on this topic, because he has actually made Yorkshire Pudding for me from scratch on a number of occasions. How something can taste so amazingly delicious and buttery without actually using any butter is beyond me.

Yorkshire Pudding may be the only culinary import I bring back to America.

Things I Miss About America, Part X: No Butter on Sandwiches

I first encountered butter on sandwiches when I was living in East Africa. The housegirl of the family I lived with in Nairobi would never let me do any of my own cooking, even if it was something as simple as a sandwich. So, when I asked her to make me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich (more accurately, when she kicked me out of the kitchen after attempting to make my own), it would be delivered to me as a peanut butter and jelly and regular butter sandwich. I thought this was a weird East African custom because, when I moved to Uganda, I found butter on sandwiches there as well. Upon my arrival in the UK, however, I learned that East Africa had actually adopted this odd habit from its colonizers.

In London, you’ll be hard pressed to find a sandwich without butter on it. Ham and Cheese? Nope. Ham and cheese and butter. Turkey? Nope. Turkey and butter. I guess I could understand butter on its own in sandwiches, but they’ll often start with butter and then add mayonnaise or mustard on top of it. I just don’t get it. To me, butter doesn’t have much of a taste, so what are you getting out of it (other than the obvious extra calories)?

I’m looking forward to moving back to the states where I can order a ham sandwich without having to say “no butter please”.

Things I Love About London, Part VIII: American Holidays

This title may sound like a bit of a contradiction, but one of my absolute favourite things about London is celebrating American holidays here. I found that expats fall into basically two categories: 1- Those who have left the states, grow to feel more disillusioned by it, and plan on (or atleast say they plan on) never going back and 2- Those who have left the states, grow to feel more longing and love towards it, and definitely plan on going back (“once this whole European/African/Asian adventure is over”). I definitely fall into the ladder category. I have become a more proud and more defensive American than I ever thought possible while living in America.

One of the best ways I have found to express this new-found nationalism is to go all out on American holidays! This is great because, as it turns out, almost all the holidays we celebrate in America (save Christmas and New Years) are American Holidays. St. Patrick’s day- American holiday. Valentie’s day- American Holiday. 4th of July- well that one’s obvious. If the Brits don’t celebrate it, that means that the American expat community celebrates 10 times as hard.

Halloween is a great example of this (definitely an American holiday, as it turns out). The Brits have started to celebrate it a bit, but it’s still seen as a mostly American thing. So, this year we decided to go all out! Some friends and I went as the entire cast of the Wizard of Oz. I was the Wicked Witch (although I was trying to channel more of an Elphaba feel) and we had the Good Witch, a Cowardly Lion, a Tin Woodman, Dorothy, and a Scarecrow (bobby). We had a great time partying with other Americans and Brits who appreciate our festive sprit. We even won best group costume!!


I definitely see myself moving back to the states and becoming disillusioned by it again (Where’s the free healthcare??). But for now, it’s great to be patriotic.

Oktoberfest

Did I forget to mention that we went to Oktoberfest? Oh yeah, we went to Oktoberfest (at the end of September, which is when Oktoberfest takes place- don't let the name fool you).

We flew into Munich on Friday Morning and left on Sunday afternoon.

I wish I could tell you all about it, but to be perfectly honest, I don't remember much of Friday and I was so miserably hungover on Saturday that I didn't have that much fun. Those beers are MASSIVE. I woke up Saturday morning having realized that I lost my cell phone and had a HUGE bump on my head that turned into a nice bruise later. I did, however, gain a much-coveted stolen beer stein (if they find you stealing one at Oktoberfest, you can get a fine and kicked out!) so I guess it wasn't all a loss.

From what I remember, Oktoberfest consists of sitting in large tents with lots of very friendly Germans, eating surprisingly delicious food (Ox meat, pickles, pretzels, chicken...), and drinking the LARGEST BEERS YOU HAVE EVER SEEN. You also sing Germans songs, the words to which we never actually learned- even after having our new german friends say them over and over again to us very slowly. We went all out and bought lederhosen and dirndls- everyone thought we were locals!

Enjoy the following pictures and help me try to piece together the weekend......

Us in our dirndls and lederhosen

To be a waitress at Oktoberfest, you have to be able to hold A LOT of those HUGE beers at once.

Inside and outside at Hofbrau Haus- one of the main tents at Oktoberfest.