I suppose I should have chosen something more festive for a title, but frankly, it came down between this and, "F***ing Snow, F***ing Heathrow, Merry F***ing Chirstmas!" I thought the chosen title was a bit less belligerent. Why all the hostility? Because due to a relatively minor snowfall, Heathrow fell apart, and I'm stuck in London, alone, for Christmas. The truly upsetting thing is that it didn't have to happen. The snow fell on Saturday. It wasn't much. But, Tuesday, they were still canceling flights left and right because they hadn't cleared the 2nd runway. In light of heavy criticism, the response from the powers that be is, "Other countries are used to snow, but we don't normally have weather like this." Hmm, well, this is the 3rd winter in row, so maybe it's time to stop wringing your hands and start admitting that now you do have weather like this! And invest in some snowplows and salt. Geez. I thought Yonkers was bad with snow removal, but at least it's not a major international city with one of the busiest airports in the world!
I was on hold with Virgin for three hours before I finally got through, and the best they could do was a Boxing Day flight. We tried every airport on the East Coast, figuring I could then drive to NY. But there was nothing. At one point, I even told the woman (Michaela was her name - very nice woman) that I would take a sleigh and eight tiny reindeer, but apparently that was booked too (peak time!). So, I'm stuck here. The first Christmas without both Mom and Dad, and Keith and I are separated by 3000 miles, and an entire ocean. Not to mention that Keith and Angela are going through so much right now because of her illness. We really needed to be together. For many people, these issues are an inconvenience. For me, it's a tragedy.
I am trying to make the best of it, and my boss here, Gaynor, has been very kind and invited me to spend the holidays with her family. At least I won't be all alone. Cali and Brooke have been at the sitter since Monday, so I haven't had them around either. But at least I know they're doing fine. I'll be getting the train to Gaynor's a little later, and then going from her house to the airport Sunday. At least (all things being equal), I should get som time at home, but I lost five days and, as philosophical as I'm trying to be, it still is very upsetting.
Well, on a brighter note - special thanks to family and friends who have patiently listened to me vent my frustration (with special note to Erika's idea to airlift snowplows and salt from the US and Canada!), and to Michaela at Virgin for trying to get me home in time, and to Gaynor for sharing her Christmas with me. At least the Christmas Spirit is alive and well.
Merry Christmas!
Friday, December 24, 2010
Friday, December 3, 2010
Snowbound in London
OK, we'll ignore the fact that it's about a month and a half since I've written anything (I like to ignore inconvenient truths - seriously, how do people blog every day?). Let's focus instead on the fact that it's Friday, December 3, and I haven't been in school since midday on Tuesday, November 30. The entire United Kingdom has been paralyzed by early season snow. Three and a half snow days?!?! Before Christmas?!?! If I'd wanted snow like this, I would have applied to teach in Switzerland! Cali and Brooke haven't been too thrilled to have to wear their sweaters (or jumpers, as the case may be).
On the plus side, since I'm in Central London, which has not been hit as hard as the outskirts, I haven't been trapped in the flat. Definitely makes me glad I chose to live where I do. I've been able to go out every day - see Christmas lights, do my Christmas shopping. I even got to my favorite pizza place - Delfino's near Grosvenor Square. If I had been livig closer to school, it would have been just me and the dogs, with some blankets and DVDs. Which would have been fine fora day or so, but now we don' go back to school until Monday, and I would have gone stir crazy by now if I hadn't been able to get out and about.
I've also been able to put up my Christmas decorations. They look nice, and I like having them up, but I kind of feel like a fraud - everything is all festive, and I'm listening to the music, but every time I try to watch a Christmas movie or show, I start crying. And, I suspect it will just get worse whenI get back to New York. These are the last major holidays to get through in the first year, and I'm worried. I'll go to Ann and Bill's for Christmas Day, but what about Christmas Eve? That's always been such a big night, and I don't know if anyone in Mommy's family will host it this year. After all, Mommy's the one who kept everyone together after Mama and Papa died. Now who's going to do it? I'd consider it, but my new apartment is too full of boxes to host a dinner party. Then there's the fact of seeing the house empty for Christmas - with no decorations. I remember what it felt like seeing Gilbert Place empty for the first time on Christmas Eve, and this will be a lot worse. Anyway, I don't want to think about it now. I'm trying to force myself to enjoy the season because I know Mom and Dad wouldn't want me moping around, but it's not easy. Sometimes it seems OK, then suddenly it all goes very dark.
Well, tomorrow I'll hit another Christmas fair, sort the presents I bought, and put up my remaining decorations and lights. And, maybe, I'll manage to write about what I did for Thanksgiving, or as it's known here, Thursday, 25 November. I took the anti-holiday approach this year. Until next time . . .
On the plus side, since I'm in Central London, which has not been hit as hard as the outskirts, I haven't been trapped in the flat. Definitely makes me glad I chose to live where I do. I've been able to go out every day - see Christmas lights, do my Christmas shopping. I even got to my favorite pizza place - Delfino's near Grosvenor Square. If I had been livig closer to school, it would have been just me and the dogs, with some blankets and DVDs. Which would have been fine fora day or so, but now we don' go back to school until Monday, and I would have gone stir crazy by now if I hadn't been able to get out and about.
I've also been able to put up my Christmas decorations. They look nice, and I like having them up, but I kind of feel like a fraud - everything is all festive, and I'm listening to the music, but every time I try to watch a Christmas movie or show, I start crying. And, I suspect it will just get worse whenI get back to New York. These are the last major holidays to get through in the first year, and I'm worried. I'll go to Ann and Bill's for Christmas Day, but what about Christmas Eve? That's always been such a big night, and I don't know if anyone in Mommy's family will host it this year. After all, Mommy's the one who kept everyone together after Mama and Papa died. Now who's going to do it? I'd consider it, but my new apartment is too full of boxes to host a dinner party. Then there's the fact of seeing the house empty for Christmas - with no decorations. I remember what it felt like seeing Gilbert Place empty for the first time on Christmas Eve, and this will be a lot worse. Anyway, I don't want to think about it now. I'm trying to force myself to enjoy the season because I know Mom and Dad wouldn't want me moping around, but it's not easy. Sometimes it seems OK, then suddenly it all goes very dark.
Well, tomorrow I'll hit another Christmas fair, sort the presents I bought, and put up my remaining decorations and lights. And, maybe, I'll manage to write about what I did for Thanksgiving, or as it's known here, Thursday, 25 November. I took the anti-holiday approach this year. Until next time . . .
Sunday, October 17, 2010
The Therapeutic Qualities of Doctor Who
So, last weekend, in an effort to keep my cultural experiences broad, I attended the “Doctor Who Live” show at Wembley Arena. It was fun – a bit cheesy, and definitely kid-oriented, but even I got a little thrill when the Cybermen and Judoon came stomping past me! Actually, Keith and Angela gave me the ticket for my birthday, and to understand why, we need to rewind about 9 ½ months.
I’m actually one of those rare Americans who has been aware of “Doctor Who” for quite some time. When I was a kid, it aired on PBS in New York. But, I have to admit, I never watched it because (I’m about to insult an entire nation here) it looked like something a sci-fi geek filmed in his mother’s basement, using a Betamax. The grainy video and low-rent effects just did not appeal to me at all. When the rebooted series came to the States, I was living in Mexico and then, when I returned, it was airing on BBC America which Cablevision, in its “wisdom,” doesn’t carry. So, I was blissfully ignorant of the new “Doctor Who” series, until I came to England last New Year’s with Mom.
On this trip, we spent a fair amount of time relaxing in our room because Mom’s strength was failing (it turned out to be only about a month before she died). At Lainston House, in Hampshire, I watched a lot of “Best of the Noughties” shows that talked about the TV shows, celebrities, etc. that were popular over the last decade. At this time, too, the BBC was in the midst of its all-David Tennant blitz. Now, at the risk of being insulting again, I didn’t actually know who David Tennant was – except for this reaction upon seeing him on one of the many shows he appeared on that week: “Hey, that’s Barty Crouch, Jr!” Yes, the "Harry Potter" fan in me registered the face, but that was about it.
Of course, over the next few days, I couldn’t escape the stories on TV and in the papers, and so I became intrigued by this big finale episode of “Doctor Who” that everyone was talking about. It was so hyped that I actually considered watching it when we arrived in London on New Year’s Day, but it didn’t really make sense to watch the last episode without having seen any of the others! So, I watched Miss Marple instead (They Do it With Mirrors). When I got back to New York, I ordered the Series One DVD Box Set, with the plan to watch it over the next few weeks. Unfortunately, the next few weeks were the worst of my life, as has already been well-documented, so I never got around to watching that DVD set.
It’s funny what you’ll latch onto in moments of trauma; the strangest things become life rafts and get you safely through the rough waters. After the funeral, I lost myself for a bit in watching the Olympics. It was a little difficult because that was something Mom and I would have watched together, but it kept me distracted. Once the Olympics were over, though, I found myself in an odd place. I suddenly realized that I couldn’t bring myself to watch the regular prime-time shows that I had been watching with Mom just a couple of weeks before. It was our routine that we would watch TV together, as we enjoyed a lot of the same shows. She’d be in the recliner, with Cali next to her and Brooke on her lap, and I’d be on the bed. Sometimes we’d switch, if the dogs made her too uncomfortable. Now, the bed was gone, but the recliner was there, and Cali, Brooke and I would sit there to watch TV, and to try to feel closer to Mom. But, what would we watch?
That’s when I turned to the unopened DVD box set sitting on the shelf. It was something different, I reasoned, and something I had never seen with Mom, so maybe it would provide the distraction I needed. I started watching and was immediately drawn in. I’ll admit, with my pre-conceived notions about the old “Doctor Who,” I wasn’t expecting much, but I realized pretty quickly that the production values on this show were light years ahead of its predecessor. And I have to admit to some surprise (sorry!) at the depth of the show and the quality of the acting. It was a true drama that just happened to be Science Fiction. I liked it well enough to buy the Second Series Box Set by the time I was halfway through the first, and the remaining sets shortly thereafter. The second series was the first one with David Tennant, so I would now get some sense of what he had done that merited the media blitz and sense of national mourning I had seen when I was in London.
I was captivated. I already had a high opinion of the show, and they managed to raise the bar with the new series. The wit and charm that David Tennant brought to the role drew me in even more. I had my perfect escape. While watching the show, I could forget for a little while the otherwise unrelenting sadness. I could sit in the recliner in Mom’s room, Cali next to me and Brooke on my lap, and just enjoy something. I didn’t actually think I would ever enjoy anything again in those early days, but how could you not enjoy the adventure and humor, and drama of “Doctor Who”? Over the next few weeks, I spent my days dealing with the realities of the house and estate, and spent my evenings escaping into time and space. Even now, if I start feeling down, and start thinking too much about all the loss over the past few years, I can just pop in a favorite episode and escape for a while. It inevitably restores my good mood. Actually, if I really need a quick pick-me-up, all I need to watch is the 15-minute video clip of David Tennant and Julie Gardner getting a police escort to Blackpool. The unfeigned, child-like glee they express throughout makes me laugh every time!
It’s funny. If anyone had asked me how I thought I’d get through Mom’s death, I would have probably denied that it was even possible. I would certainly never have thought a British Science Fiction show would help me through the darkest hours. Now, I’m not turning all sci-fi geek. I mean, I’ve always liked sci-fi, and anyone who’s known me long enough knows how obsessed I was with “V” when I was a kid, but I’m not about to start attending conventions, wearing costumes, or buying sonic screwdrivers on Ebay. And, while I have continued to watch the show, it’s more a matter of habit now. Especially now that I’m living in the UK, where it’s still quite popular. But, for me, “Doctor Who” is a moment in time, something I discovered by chance, at the right time, and that filled a temporary need. And for that, I’ll always be grateful.
I’m actually one of those rare Americans who has been aware of “Doctor Who” for quite some time. When I was a kid, it aired on PBS in New York. But, I have to admit, I never watched it because (I’m about to insult an entire nation here) it looked like something a sci-fi geek filmed in his mother’s basement, using a Betamax. The grainy video and low-rent effects just did not appeal to me at all. When the rebooted series came to the States, I was living in Mexico and then, when I returned, it was airing on BBC America which Cablevision, in its “wisdom,” doesn’t carry. So, I was blissfully ignorant of the new “Doctor Who” series, until I came to England last New Year’s with Mom.
On this trip, we spent a fair amount of time relaxing in our room because Mom’s strength was failing (it turned out to be only about a month before she died). At Lainston House, in Hampshire, I watched a lot of “Best of the Noughties” shows that talked about the TV shows, celebrities, etc. that were popular over the last decade. At this time, too, the BBC was in the midst of its all-David Tennant blitz. Now, at the risk of being insulting again, I didn’t actually know who David Tennant was – except for this reaction upon seeing him on one of the many shows he appeared on that week: “Hey, that’s Barty Crouch, Jr!” Yes, the "Harry Potter" fan in me registered the face, but that was about it.
Of course, over the next few days, I couldn’t escape the stories on TV and in the papers, and so I became intrigued by this big finale episode of “Doctor Who” that everyone was talking about. It was so hyped that I actually considered watching it when we arrived in London on New Year’s Day, but it didn’t really make sense to watch the last episode without having seen any of the others! So, I watched Miss Marple instead (They Do it With Mirrors). When I got back to New York, I ordered the Series One DVD Box Set, with the plan to watch it over the next few weeks. Unfortunately, the next few weeks were the worst of my life, as has already been well-documented, so I never got around to watching that DVD set.
It’s funny what you’ll latch onto in moments of trauma; the strangest things become life rafts and get you safely through the rough waters. After the funeral, I lost myself for a bit in watching the Olympics. It was a little difficult because that was something Mom and I would have watched together, but it kept me distracted. Once the Olympics were over, though, I found myself in an odd place. I suddenly realized that I couldn’t bring myself to watch the regular prime-time shows that I had been watching with Mom just a couple of weeks before. It was our routine that we would watch TV together, as we enjoyed a lot of the same shows. She’d be in the recliner, with Cali next to her and Brooke on her lap, and I’d be on the bed. Sometimes we’d switch, if the dogs made her too uncomfortable. Now, the bed was gone, but the recliner was there, and Cali, Brooke and I would sit there to watch TV, and to try to feel closer to Mom. But, what would we watch?
That’s when I turned to the unopened DVD box set sitting on the shelf. It was something different, I reasoned, and something I had never seen with Mom, so maybe it would provide the distraction I needed. I started watching and was immediately drawn in. I’ll admit, with my pre-conceived notions about the old “Doctor Who,” I wasn’t expecting much, but I realized pretty quickly that the production values on this show were light years ahead of its predecessor. And I have to admit to some surprise (sorry!) at the depth of the show and the quality of the acting. It was a true drama that just happened to be Science Fiction. I liked it well enough to buy the Second Series Box Set by the time I was halfway through the first, and the remaining sets shortly thereafter. The second series was the first one with David Tennant, so I would now get some sense of what he had done that merited the media blitz and sense of national mourning I had seen when I was in London.
I was captivated. I already had a high opinion of the show, and they managed to raise the bar with the new series. The wit and charm that David Tennant brought to the role drew me in even more. I had my perfect escape. While watching the show, I could forget for a little while the otherwise unrelenting sadness. I could sit in the recliner in Mom’s room, Cali next to me and Brooke on my lap, and just enjoy something. I didn’t actually think I would ever enjoy anything again in those early days, but how could you not enjoy the adventure and humor, and drama of “Doctor Who”? Over the next few weeks, I spent my days dealing with the realities of the house and estate, and spent my evenings escaping into time and space. Even now, if I start feeling down, and start thinking too much about all the loss over the past few years, I can just pop in a favorite episode and escape for a while. It inevitably restores my good mood. Actually, if I really need a quick pick-me-up, all I need to watch is the 15-minute video clip of David Tennant and Julie Gardner getting a police escort to Blackpool. The unfeigned, child-like glee they express throughout makes me laugh every time!
It’s funny. If anyone had asked me how I thought I’d get through Mom’s death, I would have probably denied that it was even possible. I would certainly never have thought a British Science Fiction show would help me through the darkest hours. Now, I’m not turning all sci-fi geek. I mean, I’ve always liked sci-fi, and anyone who’s known me long enough knows how obsessed I was with “V” when I was a kid, but I’m not about to start attending conventions, wearing costumes, or buying sonic screwdrivers on Ebay. And, while I have continued to watch the show, it’s more a matter of habit now. Especially now that I’m living in the UK, where it’s still quite popular. But, for me, “Doctor Who” is a moment in time, something I discovered by chance, at the right time, and that filled a temporary need. And for that, I’ll always be grateful.
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Embassy Dos, Park Don’ts and Trains . . . Don’t Make Eye Contact
OK, before I get started, I have a confession to make. I lied. I didn’t mean to lie, but I lied and now I need to come clean. When I said that it’s weird for me to obsess over film or TV locations, that wasn’t totally accurate. It’s actually true for film and TV, but I conveniently forgot my pathetic obsession with book locations. A visit to Grosvenor Square before the Embassy party reminded me that I have spent many hours wandering London over the years, looking for places like Hatchard’s Bookshop, White’s Club, or the site of Almack’s Assembly Rooms just because they were in a book I read. So, sorry, but I really am a pathetic fan – just usually for books written by people who have been dead for a couple of hundred years!
Anyway, to business. Many things to discuss. First, the Embassy party. Other than the fact that they wouldn’t let us in when we got there, it went well. Apparently we were small potatoes for the Ambassador, so no appearance by that August personage. But, that didn’t really surprise me. When I was a newly-minted Junior Officer in Monterrey, I was the one who, as Acting Public Affairs Officer, welcomed in all the American Fulbright teachers. I’m sure they would have been quite put-out to find out that the American Diplomat who was greeting them had barely a year under her belt! I’m pretty sure the Cultural Attaché who greeted us had a few more years under hers! On a side note, it made me think of the time Mom tried the door at the Embassy (back when you could get to the door) and a disembodied voice said, “Can I help you? The Embassy is closed.” After all these years, I finally got in those doors! Anyway, it was a good evening and if you want any real dirt, sorry, public forum!
So from Embassy dos, we get to Park don’ts. Really, the only don’t we need to address here is – don’t take my two lunatic dogs to the park. My stress levels continue to climb every time I take them out. And Cali continues to be the primary offender. I really am at my wits’ end. At the park the other day, Cali went totally crazy on a jogger, who jumped about 3 feet in the air. I yelled at her so badly, she was trembling. Of course, yelling at her is the worst thing I can do, but I get so frustrated. I dread our walks. I keep hoping she’ll adjust, but she hasn’t so far. People are starting to view her as a vicious dog, and anyone who knows her knows how far from the truth that is. I’m certain it’s her fear that’s doing it, but I don’t know how to help her. Sometimes I really do wonder if it was a mistake to bring them here.
As for not making eye contact on trains, I’m usually pretty good at that. But there was this guy the other day who stank like a distillery. He asked what station we were at and when I told him, he heard the accent and I was sunk. He didn’t leave me alone (except for one point when he focused on some teens with musical instruments and told them to “play some f***in’ Led Zepplin!”). He went on and on about God knows what – although I do remember him telling me that the US was God’s country. I had to measure my response because if I agreed he would have said that Britain was. I kept trying to return to my grading, but he wouldn’t let up. And, if I ignored him, he got mildly hostile. I finally was able to bolt when we got to Victoria, but it was an excruciating 40 minutes. Damn that accent! From now on, I use my British or Irish accent!
So, in the meantime, I’ve also had some theatre experiences. I saw "Priscilla, Queen of the Desert, the Musical," a few weeks ago, then last week, I saw two shows at the National Theatre - we took the 6th form girls (year 12-13) to see "Blood and Gifts," which is about the Russian occupation of Afghanistan. Then, on Thursday, I saw, "Or You Could Kiss Me." It's a fascinating but bizarre play about two men, at the end of their lives, reliving how they met and fell in love, It's very experimental, using puppets and actors. The puppets are by the same people who did War Horse. It was remarkable because you really felt like the puppets were the men. Unfortunately, it hit a little too close to home as one of the men is terminally ill, and much of the play focuses on that. I had a front row seat, though, which was great. I got the tickets through the Young Patrons of the National Theatre, which I joined, and they had a little drinks reception beforehand. I’m looking forward to more events.
Sunday, I went to see the Les Miserables 25th Anniversary Concert at the O2, which was amazing. Such an array of talent. There were stars from around the world, including Lea Salonga, who played Fantine, as she's too old for Eponine (which she originated in London in 1985 and Broadway in 1987). Nick Jonas of the Jonas Brothers played Marius, and his voice paled in comparison with the stage veterans (although he handled his solo well). There was a funny moment when the girl in front of me got quite upset that Cosette was blonde and Eponine brunette because that's not how she's used to them. She was really beside herself about it. I felt like asking, "So, the fact that Javert is black, Fantine is Asian, and Enjolras is Iranian doesn't bother you? Just the hair?" After the show, I was chatting with the older couple next to me while we waited for the crowd of 20,000 to thin. A worker came up to us and asked if we could handle exiting the long way (I guess because the couple were in their 70s). They offered to escort us out through the VIP section (they just assumed we were together!). We ended up exiting through the VIP lounge where we stopped and ordered drinks and had a lovely time chatting for the next hour. Turned out really nice, actually.
So, highs and lows continue. Overall, this is turning out to be a good experience, even if I do have some days where I just wish I were home and things were like they used to be. But, things can’t be like they used to be, and I still think this is the right place for me at the right time. There’s lots of potential in this coming year – I just need to manage my stress levels (Cali – that means you!!). Cheers!
Anyway, to business. Many things to discuss. First, the Embassy party. Other than the fact that they wouldn’t let us in when we got there, it went well. Apparently we were small potatoes for the Ambassador, so no appearance by that August personage. But, that didn’t really surprise me. When I was a newly-minted Junior Officer in Monterrey, I was the one who, as Acting Public Affairs Officer, welcomed in all the American Fulbright teachers. I’m sure they would have been quite put-out to find out that the American Diplomat who was greeting them had barely a year under her belt! I’m pretty sure the Cultural Attaché who greeted us had a few more years under hers! On a side note, it made me think of the time Mom tried the door at the Embassy (back when you could get to the door) and a disembodied voice said, “Can I help you? The Embassy is closed.” After all these years, I finally got in those doors! Anyway, it was a good evening and if you want any real dirt, sorry, public forum!
So from Embassy dos, we get to Park don’ts. Really, the only don’t we need to address here is – don’t take my two lunatic dogs to the park. My stress levels continue to climb every time I take them out. And Cali continues to be the primary offender. I really am at my wits’ end. At the park the other day, Cali went totally crazy on a jogger, who jumped about 3 feet in the air. I yelled at her so badly, she was trembling. Of course, yelling at her is the worst thing I can do, but I get so frustrated. I dread our walks. I keep hoping she’ll adjust, but she hasn’t so far. People are starting to view her as a vicious dog, and anyone who knows her knows how far from the truth that is. I’m certain it’s her fear that’s doing it, but I don’t know how to help her. Sometimes I really do wonder if it was a mistake to bring them here.
As for not making eye contact on trains, I’m usually pretty good at that. But there was this guy the other day who stank like a distillery. He asked what station we were at and when I told him, he heard the accent and I was sunk. He didn’t leave me alone (except for one point when he focused on some teens with musical instruments and told them to “play some f***in’ Led Zepplin!”). He went on and on about God knows what – although I do remember him telling me that the US was God’s country. I had to measure my response because if I agreed he would have said that Britain was. I kept trying to return to my grading, but he wouldn’t let up. And, if I ignored him, he got mildly hostile. I finally was able to bolt when we got to Victoria, but it was an excruciating 40 minutes. Damn that accent! From now on, I use my British or Irish accent!
So, in the meantime, I’ve also had some theatre experiences. I saw "Priscilla, Queen of the Desert, the Musical," a few weeks ago, then last week, I saw two shows at the National Theatre - we took the 6th form girls (year 12-13) to see "Blood and Gifts," which is about the Russian occupation of Afghanistan. Then, on Thursday, I saw, "Or You Could Kiss Me." It's a fascinating but bizarre play about two men, at the end of their lives, reliving how they met and fell in love, It's very experimental, using puppets and actors. The puppets are by the same people who did War Horse. It was remarkable because you really felt like the puppets were the men. Unfortunately, it hit a little too close to home as one of the men is terminally ill, and much of the play focuses on that. I had a front row seat, though, which was great. I got the tickets through the Young Patrons of the National Theatre, which I joined, and they had a little drinks reception beforehand. I’m looking forward to more events.
Sunday, I went to see the Les Miserables 25th Anniversary Concert at the O2, which was amazing. Such an array of talent. There were stars from around the world, including Lea Salonga, who played Fantine, as she's too old for Eponine (which she originated in London in 1985 and Broadway in 1987). Nick Jonas of the Jonas Brothers played Marius, and his voice paled in comparison with the stage veterans (although he handled his solo well). There was a funny moment when the girl in front of me got quite upset that Cosette was blonde and Eponine brunette because that's not how she's used to them. She was really beside herself about it. I felt like asking, "So, the fact that Javert is black, Fantine is Asian, and Enjolras is Iranian doesn't bother you? Just the hair?" After the show, I was chatting with the older couple next to me while we waited for the crowd of 20,000 to thin. A worker came up to us and asked if we could handle exiting the long way (I guess because the couple were in their 70s). They offered to escort us out through the VIP section (they just assumed we were together!). We ended up exiting through the VIP lounge where we stopped and ordered drinks and had a lovely time chatting for the next hour. Turned out really nice, actually.
So, highs and lows continue. Overall, this is turning out to be a good experience, even if I do have some days where I just wish I were home and things were like they used to be. But, things can’t be like they used to be, and I still think this is the right place for me at the right time. There’s lots of potential in this coming year – I just need to manage my stress levels (Cali – that means you!!). Cheers!
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Viva Blackpool (or, possibly, Death to Blackpool)
So, I took a visit to the north of England last weekend, to Backpool. For the Americans among us, it's sort of like a cross between Atantic City and Seaside Heights,with a dash of Coney Island thrown in. I first found out about it a few months ago from the BBC mini-series "Blackpool," which was a really entertaining musical drama. Surprisingly good, in fact (sequel sucked, but they often do). It actually inspired the crap US show, "Viva Laughlin, with Hugh Jackman -didn't last. Not really the thing for mainstream US audiences ("Cop Rock" anyone?).
But I digress. I went to Blackpool to get a little time away and see the "world-famous" illuminations. Well, what I could see of them through the monsoon that blew through all weekend was nice. But, what a weekend - I've never been so wet in my life (walked for 5-6 hours a day in the torrential rain). It took days for my clothes and shoes to dry out. I went to the top of the Blackpool Tower (modeled on the Eiffel Tower) and felt like I was going to be blown off. I did buy the cheesy picture and a keychain, though. They actually stopped letting people up to the top as the weather got worse, so at least I got to go. Nice moment at the Tower Ballroom, where loads of people were dancing, and I sat with some hot chocolate and a scone (couldn't do tea) and watched as the Wurlitzer spun out the tunes. It was funny, though, it wa all very staid. Then they announced a salsa. OK, well, Rican girl that I am, I thought, "Great, now we'll see some exciting dancing." And then, "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" started echoing around the room, and the dancers quite staidly performed their "salsa." I kept trying not to laugh, and then thought to myself, "What next, a merengue to 'When You Wish Upon a Star?'" I kid you not, less than a minute later, "When You Wish Upon a Star" started playing. There was nothing to do then but laugh out loud, which got a couple of looks. But, I mean, c'mon! How is that salsa?!?
Despite the loose interpretation of some of the dances (never saw a more perfectly executed and more boring tango), I actually did enjoy spending time at the ballroom - and, hey, it was dry. As was the cheesy arcade where I won 10 pounds (used it to by a stuffed meerkat as a belated birthday gift for Cali). My tiny room ha a view of the sea (and the whipping winds and surf!), nad I enjoyed especially the quiet North Pier - at least I did until I slipped on some wet seagull guano and went down in a heap. I heard a thud that was not a body part and immediately thought I had broken my video camera (it seems to be OK). I picked myself up - I was already soaked through, so it didn't matter that I fell into about an inch of water - and I kept going. Got my sand, changed back at the hotel, and began the train journey home (I hate not having a car). By the end, the bruises had shown up, my back hurt like hell, and I just wanted to cry. So - a memorable weekend from which I'm still feeling the effects (and not the way most people feel the effects of a weekend in Blackpool!).
Truthfully, I did enjoy most of it, and didn't even mind the rain so much (although it would definitely have been better without it). I have to admit, I actually really enjoyed seeing the sites from the mini-series, which was weird, because I'm not usually like that. I mean, I wouldn't take the Harry Potter tour in London, or the Sex and the City or Seinfeld tours in New York (not that I really liked either of those shows). But, for some reason, I actually liked doing my personal little magical mystery tour of film locations. Weird, but then, I am weird! Always have been.
I am also not coping so well here. The stress levels are very high, and probably mostly self-imposed. I'm just so worried about screwing up, looking like a bad teacher, failing the kids. Objectively, I know I'm a good teacher, but being the insecure girl I am, I don't always feel it. It's funny, all the stuff I've been through, and all the ways I think I've changed, and I'm still the insecure kid who went into every situation thinking no one would like her and she'd be a failure. What does that say about me? Does it say anything? Or is it just a truth universally acknowledged that people don't really change (sorry for the plagiarism, Miss Austen). I don't know. Today was a weird day. I woke up feeling very down and felt that way all day. I'm usually good at faking it, but not today. Everyone at work knew something was up. I tried to chalk it up to the stress of the day (no frees, no lunch period, meeting after school), but it was more.
I've been thinking about Mom and Dad a lot lately, and I've been feeling quite lonely. I feel like everyone back home is thinking I'm living this amazing life here, but the truth is, I get up at an ungodly hour, in the dark, go to school, feel more lost than I believe I should, come home exhausted, walk the dogs, which ratchets up the blood pressure (thanks, Cali!) and feel like doing nothing but laying on the couch watching TV. Not exactly living the high life! When I do go out, it's on my own. Elizabeth's friends have been very nice getting in touch, and I've had a good time meeting them, but I'm really not good at meeting people on my own. I've always been good at keeping friends once I made them, but really bad at making them. Always have been - again, don't know why I thought I'd suddenly be different. People always think that, don't they? New place - new you. But, that's not really true. You take the old you with you. And all anyone needs to do is look at the last paragraph to know the old me. I did join the National Theatre, and the first show I'm going to is next week, so maybe I can find a bit of confidence to meet and greet at the pre-show cocktails. And there is the Embassy Cocktail Party this Friday - I'm actually OK at cocktail parties. I'm good at inconsequential chatter. Bah, making friends is like dating, and I don't think I need to get into how bad I am at that!
Well, there's still ironing to do and a shower to take, and I have to be up in just over 7 hours, so I'd better get on with the glamorous life! The dogs have had their bedtime walk already - which the entire neighborhood is aware of thanks to an unfortunate encounter with a chihuahua that was simply minding her own business until my two lunatics saw her. I don't honestly know why they can e so good at home, and such a disaster on walks (especially Cali, who is the menace of the neighborhood). At any rate, I'm off. I'll check back in afer the Embassy party.
But I digress. I went to Blackpool to get a little time away and see the "world-famous" illuminations. Well, what I could see of them through the monsoon that blew through all weekend was nice. But, what a weekend - I've never been so wet in my life (walked for 5-6 hours a day in the torrential rain). It took days for my clothes and shoes to dry out. I went to the top of the Blackpool Tower (modeled on the Eiffel Tower) and felt like I was going to be blown off. I did buy the cheesy picture and a keychain, though. They actually stopped letting people up to the top as the weather got worse, so at least I got to go. Nice moment at the Tower Ballroom, where loads of people were dancing, and I sat with some hot chocolate and a scone (couldn't do tea) and watched as the Wurlitzer spun out the tunes. It was funny, though, it wa all very staid. Then they announced a salsa. OK, well, Rican girl that I am, I thought, "Great, now we'll see some exciting dancing." And then, "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" started echoing around the room, and the dancers quite staidly performed their "salsa." I kept trying not to laugh, and then thought to myself, "What next, a merengue to 'When You Wish Upon a Star?'" I kid you not, less than a minute later, "When You Wish Upon a Star" started playing. There was nothing to do then but laugh out loud, which got a couple of looks. But, I mean, c'mon! How is that salsa?!?
Despite the loose interpretation of some of the dances (never saw a more perfectly executed and more boring tango), I actually did enjoy spending time at the ballroom - and, hey, it was dry. As was the cheesy arcade where I won 10 pounds (used it to by a stuffed meerkat as a belated birthday gift for Cali). My tiny room ha a view of the sea (and the whipping winds and surf!), nad I enjoyed especially the quiet North Pier - at least I did until I slipped on some wet seagull guano and went down in a heap. I heard a thud that was not a body part and immediately thought I had broken my video camera (it seems to be OK). I picked myself up - I was already soaked through, so it didn't matter that I fell into about an inch of water - and I kept going. Got my sand, changed back at the hotel, and began the train journey home (I hate not having a car). By the end, the bruises had shown up, my back hurt like hell, and I just wanted to cry. So - a memorable weekend from which I'm still feeling the effects (and not the way most people feel the effects of a weekend in Blackpool!).
Truthfully, I did enjoy most of it, and didn't even mind the rain so much (although it would definitely have been better without it). I have to admit, I actually really enjoyed seeing the sites from the mini-series, which was weird, because I'm not usually like that. I mean, I wouldn't take the Harry Potter tour in London, or the Sex and the City or Seinfeld tours in New York (not that I really liked either of those shows). But, for some reason, I actually liked doing my personal little magical mystery tour of film locations. Weird, but then, I am weird! Always have been.
I am also not coping so well here. The stress levels are very high, and probably mostly self-imposed. I'm just so worried about screwing up, looking like a bad teacher, failing the kids. Objectively, I know I'm a good teacher, but being the insecure girl I am, I don't always feel it. It's funny, all the stuff I've been through, and all the ways I think I've changed, and I'm still the insecure kid who went into every situation thinking no one would like her and she'd be a failure. What does that say about me? Does it say anything? Or is it just a truth universally acknowledged that people don't really change (sorry for the plagiarism, Miss Austen). I don't know. Today was a weird day. I woke up feeling very down and felt that way all day. I'm usually good at faking it, but not today. Everyone at work knew something was up. I tried to chalk it up to the stress of the day (no frees, no lunch period, meeting after school), but it was more.
I've been thinking about Mom and Dad a lot lately, and I've been feeling quite lonely. I feel like everyone back home is thinking I'm living this amazing life here, but the truth is, I get up at an ungodly hour, in the dark, go to school, feel more lost than I believe I should, come home exhausted, walk the dogs, which ratchets up the blood pressure (thanks, Cali!) and feel like doing nothing but laying on the couch watching TV. Not exactly living the high life! When I do go out, it's on my own. Elizabeth's friends have been very nice getting in touch, and I've had a good time meeting them, but I'm really not good at meeting people on my own. I've always been good at keeping friends once I made them, but really bad at making them. Always have been - again, don't know why I thought I'd suddenly be different. People always think that, don't they? New place - new you. But, that's not really true. You take the old you with you. And all anyone needs to do is look at the last paragraph to know the old me. I did join the National Theatre, and the first show I'm going to is next week, so maybe I can find a bit of confidence to meet and greet at the pre-show cocktails. And there is the Embassy Cocktail Party this Friday - I'm actually OK at cocktail parties. I'm good at inconsequential chatter. Bah, making friends is like dating, and I don't think I need to get into how bad I am at that!
Well, there's still ironing to do and a shower to take, and I have to be up in just over 7 hours, so I'd better get on with the glamorous life! The dogs have had their bedtime walk already - which the entire neighborhood is aware of thanks to an unfortunate encounter with a chihuahua that was simply minding her own business until my two lunatics saw her. I don't honestly know why they can e so good at home, and such a disaster on walks (especially Cali, who is the menace of the neighborhood). At any rate, I'm off. I'll check back in afer the Embassy party.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
First Weeks, Hellhounds and Bad Meatballs
OK, a few points of clarification. First, the hellhounds referenced are not my students (although . . . ) and I'm not sure it was really the meatballs that knocked me for a loop this morning. Either way, I started off the second week of school with an absence today because I was unbelievably sick this morning. I actually think it was the pasta sauce, which had been sitting in the fridge for over a week. I had my suspicions about it, but I wasn't sure when it had originally been opened, so I decided to take a chance - clearly a big mistake. I've never liked being absent because I always feel so guilty. Which, of course, means I don't really get the rest I need. Then, I feel so conspicuous going back to work. Double the awkwardness in a new job. Ah well, it couldn't be helped. If I had tried to go to work, I probably would have ended up passed out in a train station bathroom.
Ploy, the dog walker, took them out, but Cali didn't want to leave without me. It was funny. Ploy said they kept pulling to com back to the flat - probably because they knew I was there. My little hellhounds have had trouble adjusting. I've had to leave the radio on, and put anti-bark collars on both of them. I feel bad about it, but I can't have them barking all day. They'll get us evicted. Walks are a bitch (no pun intended) - Cali barks at everything and Brooke is in her own world. It's my own fault, really, because I never got them used to taking walks. I keep reminding myselgf that they've only been here a couple of weeks, so they'll get used to it. But Cali is looking like the menace of the neighborhood because she has that damned loud bark. No one knows that she's just a big wuss. They really loved the park the other day, so there's a glimmer of hope. Hopefully, by the time we leave London, they'll be ready for life in the other big city.
School is good but stressful. I think most of the stress is self-imposed because I'm so worried about beign sure I fulfill the requirements of the National Curriculum. I kind of miss the familiar laid back world of Ursuline. That's only because it's all new - getting nostalgic about Ursuline is just yearning for the safety of he familiar. And, I wouldn't have done this if I wanted to play it safe - so I just have to suck it up. I did do three assemblies on 9/11 during the first week (I must be crazy). They seemed to go well, and people responded favorably to them. It was hard, though, because I had to condense my usual 40-minute class to a 10 minute highlight reel. It's done, though, and successfully, so that's a relief.
The kids are good - they're not really so different ftom the kids back home. Kids are kids after all. They all asked me to do a British accent, so I did (I figured I'd get it out of the way). They're full of questions about America and American schools - wanting to know if it's like they've seen in movies. A few asked me what American teens thought of British schools, and I had to admit, sheepishly, that I didn't think they thought much about it. If anything, Americans probably think British schools are like Harry Potter (or as someone said to me recently, Harry Potter meets Gossip Girl). Truth is, there's so much more American media here than there is British media in America, so we don't have as much frame of reference. Speaking of British media, the installation of my satellite dish has not diminished my obsession with panel shows, I'm afraid. Currently watching "Mock the Week."
Time to walk the demons (I mean, the darlings) and toddle off to bed, so I can be functional in the morning!
Ploy, the dog walker, took them out, but Cali didn't want to leave without me. It was funny. Ploy said they kept pulling to com back to the flat - probably because they knew I was there. My little hellhounds have had trouble adjusting. I've had to leave the radio on, and put anti-bark collars on both of them. I feel bad about it, but I can't have them barking all day. They'll get us evicted. Walks are a bitch (no pun intended) - Cali barks at everything and Brooke is in her own world. It's my own fault, really, because I never got them used to taking walks. I keep reminding myselgf that they've only been here a couple of weeks, so they'll get used to it. But Cali is looking like the menace of the neighborhood because she has that damned loud bark. No one knows that she's just a big wuss. They really loved the park the other day, so there's a glimmer of hope. Hopefully, by the time we leave London, they'll be ready for life in the other big city.
School is good but stressful. I think most of the stress is self-imposed because I'm so worried about beign sure I fulfill the requirements of the National Curriculum. I kind of miss the familiar laid back world of Ursuline. That's only because it's all new - getting nostalgic about Ursuline is just yearning for the safety of he familiar. And, I wouldn't have done this if I wanted to play it safe - so I just have to suck it up. I did do three assemblies on 9/11 during the first week (I must be crazy). They seemed to go well, and people responded favorably to them. It was hard, though, because I had to condense my usual 40-minute class to a 10 minute highlight reel. It's done, though, and successfully, so that's a relief.
The kids are good - they're not really so different ftom the kids back home. Kids are kids after all. They all asked me to do a British accent, so I did (I figured I'd get it out of the way). They're full of questions about America and American schools - wanting to know if it's like they've seen in movies. A few asked me what American teens thought of British schools, and I had to admit, sheepishly, that I didn't think they thought much about it. If anything, Americans probably think British schools are like Harry Potter (or as someone said to me recently, Harry Potter meets Gossip Girl). Truth is, there's so much more American media here than there is British media in America, so we don't have as much frame of reference. Speaking of British media, the installation of my satellite dish has not diminished my obsession with panel shows, I'm afraid. Currently watching "Mock the Week."
Time to walk the demons (I mean, the darlings) and toddle off to bed, so I can be functional in the morning!
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Jailbreak from Her Majesty's Doggy Prison
So, the babies are sprung. They made it over the wall! Actually, they only had to spend one night in doggy prison. The vet that came decided he had enough documentation to issue Brooke's passport. So, now both of my world travelers have their very own EU passports - now, if only I could get my Irish Citizemship, andwe'd be all set. As it is right now, if I actually wanted to stay at the end of a year, I couldn't, but they could! Of course, we'd have to see how the feel at the end of a year. They may never want to leave, or they may be longing for the good old US of A. Sadly, they're not likely to ever see their favorite window seat again, assuming the house has sold by the time they go back to NY. I'm not going to dwell on that right now, though, it'll just make me sad. Right now I'm happy to have them here, and we are all slowly adjusting to havng to take walks, instead of having a nice backyard (as much of a hardship for me as them!). We're also dealing with the distractions on those walks - Brooke has developed a fascination with pigeons, and Cali will bark at anything with wheels (bikes, suitcases, scooters), along with joggers and small children. Ah, such a joy to take walks with them! Well, we'll all adjust. Now, I just have to adjust to the new job! Stay tuned . . .
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
