March 2008 Archives

I served American pancakes and bacon to my housemate Julia the other day, and she was so impressed that went out and bought ingredients for another breakfast, even inviting her boyfriend over to share in the delights.

“It’s an amazing taste experience,” she assured him. “I’m not usually keen on maple syrup, but it goes so well with the fluffy pancakes and salty bacon.”

I smiled broadly at these words in great relief, because the first time I tried to make American pancakes and bacon here in Nottingham, it was a culinary disaster on every scale.

My trip to Ireland may have been short and centered around Dublin, but I saw and did an amazing amount of great stuff in three days.

Dublin itself was a vibrant and compelling city with a fantastic vibe. I could've spent days exploring the museums and historic sites, along with eating my way through the restaurants and hanging out in the shops. It was, however, expensive, but this view over the River Liffey, running through the city centre was, thankfully, free.

The trouble with keeping up this blog is that I'm supposed to post regularly, even when I don't think I've got anything to say. Now, the idea that I have nothing to say right now is quite ridiculous, considering my last few days. I've seen marvelous things. Maybe not quite as marvelous as all that Howard Carter saw when he first peeked into Tutankhamun's tomb (I think "marvelous things" is the phrase he reputedly used), but pretty darn marvelous anyway. It's just that my last few days have been so chock full of experiences it is difficult to put them into words and not to simply resort to an itinerary. And since I've been going now for several days straight, I am very tired and my frazzled brain wants sleep and order and time to let these experiences "marinate," as my 7th-grade algebra teacher used to suggest when we'd learn a new concept like FOIL.

Probably the most marvelous sight was viewing the Book of Kells and the Long Room in the library at Trinity College Dublin. But I also saw the prehistoric sites mentioned before, including the engineering marvel of Newgrange, with a stone roof so carefully constructed that not a drop of water has leaked in during the 5,000 or so years it's been around. I saw the Georgian Dublin Castle, which was pretty cool, but also the remains of 11th century Viking castle built underneath it, which was very cool. I walked about a vibrant, verdant, expensive, bustling city, popping into shops and eating at great restaurants. I saw an impressive display of stone and bronze age items at Dublin's Natural History museum.

Just a brief posting today from a stool perched before the very green walls in Paddy's Palace hostel, right in downtown Dublin. The walls of this lounge are painted kelly green, the walls in our hostel room were a pale lime green, the curtain on the window was just plain green, the elevated train running outside the hostel is grass green, the leftover St. Patrick's Day decorations hanging around the hostel are shiny green, and the lampshade is made up of metallic four-leaf clovers. Green ones, of course. I do love green, but it could all get a bit nauseating except for one thing--it's so fun! Just in case I missed it, I am in Ireland, and the green is here to tell me so.

I've found, though, that tourist trappings aside, Ireland truly is a verdant, lush, velvety green, even in March. We flew in yesterday to Dublin, picked up a rental car and promptly drove to Newgrange and Knowth neolithic sites. These burial and ceremonial mounds were built between 4,000 and 5,000 years ago, and it was truly thrilling to visit them and marvel at the stone age carvings on the massive stones holding the mounds up. It was terribly windy and cold, with intermittent sleet showers, but when the sun came out it was simply gorgeous. I stood in the midst of the mounds gazing at the brilliant green carpets around me. (I'll post photos once I get back to Nottingham).

We drove back along the coast and stopped for a pub dinner in Skerries, an old Viking port. We arrived at low tide and clambered out on to the beach, shivering all the while in the fierce wind, but marveling at the purple and pink sunset clouds and the rainbow rays cast upon the whitecaps. Warmed by a hearty meal of pub burgers and fish 'n chips, we returned to Dublin to crash in our green, green room in this green, green land.

Now to see the Book of Kells and sundry other wonders!

I'm going to Ireland tomorrow with a few friends, and will be returning Wednesday evening, so I don't think I'll be able to post until Thursday, unless we have time to stop into an Internet cafe. But do check back fro stories and photos!

We tucked into an unbelievable Easter dinner at my house today: braised pork, red cabbage, roasted butternut squash, mashed potatoes, fennel, bread, cheese, chocolates, wine and more. Luckily I worked up an appetite this morning by helping with Easter activities for the children's department at my church. First we directeed 35 9- to 11-year-olds to build Easter gardens, complete with potting soil, live pansy and "empty tomb" made out of a paper cup. Then came large-group activities with more than 100 other children, including a special Easter presentation and an Easter quiz. I must admit I helped the small group of girls I was working with get special recognition for knowing the answer to "What annual sporting event is held every Easter on the White House lawn?" (The Easter egg roll, of course!)

I also discovered that English children don't receive Easter baskets. Although Easter is, on the whole, more widely recognized as a holiday here (most employees are off on Good Friday, and Easter Monday is a bank holiday), they don't give Easter baskets. Instead, children receive chocolate Easter eggs. I've yet to discover if British children actually hard boil real eggs and dye them, the way we always did at my house.

I've put this entry into the "Brits on America," category, but really it belongs in a category called "Brits on the American," the American in this instance being me. That's because this blog led to an unusual experience for me--being on the other end of the reporter's questions. Shortly after this blog launched, I got emails from reporters at the Nottingham Evening Post who wanted to do a feature on the American who's telling Chicago about Nottingham. Today's article "My really big tea break," was the result.

Outside the Nottingham Playhouse is a sculpture that looks very familiar. Called Sky Mirror, it's another sculpture by British sculptor Anish Kapoor, also known as the man who created The Bean (formal title Cloud Gate) in Millennium Park.

Although Sky Mirror is on a much smaller scale than The Bean, it's still a marvel. I love the way it reflects the heavens and brings it to earth in a dizzying inversion of proportions. Gazing into it, one really does see the world upside down.

As Chicago Toni posted in an earlier comment on this site, Sky Mirror is also known around these parts as the sculpture that might have spelled doom to pigeons. However, I believe those fears were unfounded, as I can find no mention of even a single singed pigeon.

Yesterday I posted a widely circulated email announcing a British "Revocation of Independence" from America. Today I post one of the rebuttals. As I mentioned in yesterday's post, these humorous pieces have been making the rounds of email inboxes since the presidential elections of 2000, and are not actually authored by John Cleese, according to Snopes.com.

(Please note that the opinions expressed herein are not the opinion of the blogger, nor of the Chicago Sun-Times. Thank goodness!)

DECLARATION OF ANNEXING THE BRITISH ISLES AS PART OF THE USA

In the light of your indecision over joining a common European currency, your dissatisfaction with the European Union, your bickering with European governments and the fact that you already almost speak our language and refuse to speak any other European languages, you are to be annexed as a State of America. Your state code will be GB. Zip codes will be assigned to replace your old postal districts. The state capital will be Stratford-upon-Avon, which is a lot prettier than London. Princess Diana will be declared a saint. You have already assimilated so much American culture that you are unlikely to notice the transition. To aid in the assimilation, the following rules are introduced with immediate effect:

It came again today--that email forward that purports to be from John Cleese and is all about how Britain is taking back control of the United States of America. I've seen it before and laughed (though I've never actually believed it was written by John Cleese) but today I read this supposedly British take on America with new eyes. I found it funny, as before, but I also sighed a bit over the same old stereotypes I've come against time and again as an American on English soil. That comment probably makes me sound a little cranky and crabbed, especially since I love humor (humour?) and well-aimed satire, but maybe I've simply grown weary of the myriad conversations about the everlasting cultural and linguistic differences. I think that's because, in order to discuss them, I have to make broad generalizations about America that just don't do justice to such a diverse and varied land. I always feel that I'm swimming upstream and growing quickly tired as I try to give my English friends a true understanding of the United States.

A quick visit to the uber-helpful site Snopes.com (where you can find out the truth of all those urban legends and email forwards) showed me that this piece was not, of course, written by John Cleese, but actually was written as a much shorter commentary by a Brit after the 2000 presidential election and circulated in an internal newsgroup. A week later another Brit added a few more items and published it on the Internet. The rest is history.

Enjoy the forward, which follows. I'm posting the version that appeared in my inbox today. Tomorrow I'll post one of the rebuttals from America to Great Britain (but go here if you want a sneak peek, or if you'd like to read how this piece came to be).

Yesterday I made another lovely excursion to the neighboring county of Derbyshire. Unfortunately, yesterday finally ended the long chain of golden sunlit days we've been so enjoying here in Nottinghamshire, even while the rest of Britain has been gripped with big storms and high winds. However, I wasn't too surprised, since I was also in Derbyshire on a rainy day about two weeks ago and an English friend said that day, "Rain in Derbyshire, how predictable!"

Yet I've found that Derbyshire, home to the Peak District national park, is equally beautiful on rainy grey spring and winter days as it is on bright summer and autumn days.

This morning, as I scurried around the tennis court picking up balls blown about wildly by the spring wind, I made sure I had all four tucked into my pockets. As I lobbed them back over the net to my playing partner Emma, I had a passing thought. Back in my other life, I played tennis regularly in Evanston with Dawn but in America only three balls come in a cannister. I did a double-take the first time I saw Emma's seemingly extra-long English cannister of four tennis balls, but it's now become second nature to play with four balls instead of three.

There are so many other small, almost inconsequential differences about life over here that, when added together, sometimes make me feel the world is knocked slightly askew. For example, it took me awhile to realize that a standard sheet of paper is not 8 inches by 11.5 inches, but 8 inches by 12.5 inches. Notebook paper has four holes on the sides, not three, and it goes into 2-ring binders, not 3-ring binders.

If you remember one thing about clothing word differences in England, remember this: It's not pants, it's trousers!!!

If you say "pants" to a Brit, they think underwear, because that's what the word "pants" means over here. Therefore, statements by innocent Americans such as, "If I'd known how warm it was going to be outside today, I wouldn't have worn pants under my dress," provide much fodder for amusement around here. This also explains why the now classic Wallace and Gromit film is called "The Wrong Trousers." Were it called "The Wrong Pants," the meaning would be very different, indeed.

Other differences between American English and British English (with the American usage put first):
tank top/undershirt = vest
vest = waistcoat
suspenders = braces
sweater = jumper
tennis shoes/sneakers = trainers
swimsuit/bathing suit = swimming costume/cozzie/swimming kit
onesie = baby grow

Finally, I am wishing myself back in Chicago. Not just for the ease of communication and living (although living in England has become second nature to me, as I realized while chatting with a friend who's only been here five weeks and still finds herself a bit shell-shocked). But because, this morning when I opened the weekend Daily Telegraph, I found a huge Travel section feature about Chicago!

I eagerly devoured "Chicago: Not the musical" and gazed at photos of the Bean and the Sears Tower. I laughed very hard when I read how author Michael Simkins was puzzling over Jean Dubuffet's public artwork and a passerby told him, "It's called Monument with Standing Beast, but we call it Snoopy in a Blender;" I was indignant when Simkins said the Billy Goat Tavern cheeseburgers (cheeseborgers) were filling but tasted terrible (what I wouldn't give for a proper American cheesburger with those delicious thick-cut pickles!); and I thought of going to NHL games with my dad and brother as Simkins tried to explain the lure of ice hockey enjoyed alongside hot dogs and cheap beer.

My earlier post about American grey squirrels vs. European red squirrels has provoked a few responses, so I thought I'd take another look at the issue.

The government is indeed taking steps to cull the grey squirrels, according to this BBC report, not only because the greys take food and other resources from the reds, but also because they carry a squirrel pox virus that doesn't affect them but is fatal to the reds. One minister said the government would most likely use poison to cull the greys.

It's worth noting the passion this stirs up amongst those in Great Britain. A cursory Google search reveals that nearly every region has a "Friends of the Red Squirrel" type group, from North Scotland to southern England to Wales.

As England faces its own immigration crises and deals with a swelling population, there's been great debate about building more housing while still protecting the land. Therefore, an article called "Rare red squirrels halt project to build houses" caught my eye.

Finally, grey squirrels really are fascinating creatures, too, despite the damage they cause. Did you know they forget where they hide their nuts and rely on scent to find them? Check out these fun facts, sure to impress the folks at your next cocktail party.

I submit the following two paragraphs for grammatic and vocabulary comparison. It's amazing how many small differences there are in language.

How I would tell the story of today's shopping errand back in Chicago:
"I drove to the local produce market and bought zucchinis for spaghetti, though I couldn't find any eggplants. I know eggplants aren't supposed to go into spaghetti sauce, but they're one of my favorite fruits (or are they veggies?) and I'd add them anyway. I didn't get any whole grain noodles, though, since I already have some in the pantry. Of course, it'd be better to use fresh tomatoes, but all I have now is canned."

How I would tell the story of today's shopping errand here in Nottingham:
"I walked to the greengrocer and bought courgettes for spaghetti bolognese, though I couldn't find any aubergines. I know aubergines aren't meant to go in spaghetti bolognese, but they're one of my favorite fruits (or are they veg?) and I'd add them anyway. I didn't get any wholewheat pasta (pasta rhymes with casta, as in castanet), though, since I already have some in the cupboard. Of course, it'd be better to use fresh tomahtoes, but all I have now is tinned."

If you'd like to learn a bit more about Sunday dinner and also find several recipes for some Yorkshire favorites, see these Food stories I wrote for Pioneer Press papers in the suburbs. They appeared in about 60 papers this past Thursday.

Yorkshire lamb casserole and Sunday dinner basics
Steamed treacle sponge pudding (dessert)
Yorkshire pudding

Tomorrow at my house, we're having roast chicken, roast parsnips and potatoes for Sunday dinner, along with stuffing, gravy and Yorkshire puddings, of course. Yum.