Wherein I whine about how difficult everything is...

When we moved to the UK, there was a lot to learn quickly. The insane tax system, with its mysterious income tax (you don't get the breakdown on your paycheck to know what money goes where), council tax (like a property tax, even though we only rent), the TV tax (which was significantly more if you dared have a color television), and the 17% VAT tax (that's a sales tax), was the first labyrinth we navigated.
     
The next obstacle was driving. It turns out that you can drive on a US license in the UK for 12 months, at which point you need to obtain a UK license. And there's no shortcut - you have to get the permit ('provisional license'), take the written theory exam, a 'hazard perception test' where you identify potential hazards in a series of 30-second video clips of driving, and the practical exam.
      
This wouldn't have seemed so daunting if not for a few things: my (admittedly minor) car accident one-hour into driving in the UK, a truly disastrous driving hour with an instructor recommended by a colleague at work (he picked apart everything I did - when I shifted, when I depressed the clutch, where my hands were on the wheel - to the point where I was literally afraid to do ANYTHING and doubted whether I had been fit to drive for the previous 9 years; it may not have helped that he had an inpenetrable Scouse accent and I had been in the country for about 4 days at that point), and the awful stories from everyone I met when I brought up the driving exam. I am not kidding - literally every person I told shuddered at the memory of their exams, told me they didn't think they could pass now, that they'd only gotten harder since. I met two people (2!) who told me they had passed their first time - everyone else told me it had taken them three, four, even seven times to pass the exam. A colleague who had grown up in the UK and travelled to the US to work for my company and had to get a US license called to tell me how much more difficult it was to pass the UK exam.
       
All this basically resulted in me relying on my favorite fallback option: procrastination. I elected to NOT think about it for as long as I could.
     
Each month, my boss would worriedly call me into my office and ask me about my progress. I would promise, each time, that I would make a more concerted effort to do something and then push the idea as far from my mind as I could.
      
I should add here that at this point, I had bought my own car with great difficulty - I have no UK credit, so obtaining financing was awful. I was denied seven times at a number of dealerships, until work was able to find a Ford dealership who offered me 18 percent financing over a term that lasted as long as my contract, no more. With the restrictions placed by work on the minimum model I could buy (a Ford Focus or larger, diesel, 2 liter engine), and what they had in stock, I was looking at my choice of 2 £6,500 cars. They were both 2005 models, which meant that I would be spending as much on my car here (without including financing) as I spent on my BRAND NEW 2005 Hyundai when I graduated college. But I'd be paying over 3x more per month for it, and it would have over 50,000 miles when I started. For those of you doing the quick math, that was over £300/month, or almost $500 USD/month I'd be paying for my used Ford Focus.
        
And that doesn't even BEGIN to address the difficulty I had obtaining car insurance. People literally laughed at me when I called for quotes, and when I could get a number from them it was generally between £5,000 and £6,000/year, or even higher. I eventually found a bare-bones plan from the Post Office that would take into account my US license, and my 3 years evidence of having made no claims on my policies, and offered me a quote of £2300/year. For those of you doing the conversion in your head, that meant I was paying over $3600 USD per year for my insurance. The last policy I'd paid for in the US was from Progressive, fully comprehensive, and cost me $400 USD.
       
But what could I do? I needed to drive for work, so I sucked it up as best I could and paid. All the while my boss harangued me about getting my UK license, he kept telling me how much cheaper it would be to insure myself. And that made sense, given my experience trying to get insurance on my US license, right?
      
Let's fast-forward. After passing my written exam and hazard perception test, I did a driving hour with someone recommended by a fellow dog-owner from the park. This experience was markedly different from my last, as he told me I was great and just needed to make the appointment and we'd practice some of the manouvers.
      
I made the appointment, but the soonest I could get was two months away, the day after we would be returning from the US for a friend's wedding. I was nervous, but before I left did a few more hours and I could feel my confidence improving.
           
I showed up for the exam and it was fine. It took almost 45 minutes from start to finish, but I answered the instructor's questions and made myself relax as we drove around town, parallel parking (they call it 'reverse parking' here) three-point turning, pulling over and doing my best to obey speed limits. I was pretty relieved I didn't have to reverse around a corner or backing into a parking place (though I had practiced them to death and was pretty sure I'd have been ok). When we returned to the test center, my instructor turned to me and smiled - she said it had been flawless, no marks, and I had passed the test. (Sidenote: you're allowed 15 minor infractions, like not checking your mirrors enough, doing things in an incorrect order, crossing your hands on the wheel, etc; but if you didn't check your mirror and there had been a car there, or you hit the curb, or continued with a manouver and there was a pedestrian anywhere nearby, etc, you would immediately fail)
         
I did a little dance in the parking lot, proudly showed my instructor and brought my test sheet into the office to show off. All day, I felt great, like a giant weight had been lifted from my shoulders. I got home, took the dog for a walk and gloated to all our dog walking friends about my success. They all encouraged me to call my insurance company when I got home, and that's just what I did.
              
That's where, if this were a movie, you'd hear the soundtrack stop and with stunning clarity you would hear the voice on the phone telling me that with my updated information, the computer model saw only that I was a brand new UK driver, without taking into account my years experience driving in the US, but apparently still taking into account my age and no claims (3 years, remember) from the US. And now my annual premium was £5036, which meant that the outstanding balance I had (to cover my insurance from January 26 to March 26) was £411.
               
I'm not going to lie, there were tears. I spoke to their manager, and their manager above them. I was informed that I could cancel the policy, but then I would be uninsured - and it was already 8pm, too late to call many companies to get a quote for a new policy. Additionally, by not finishing my year with a single company, I would lose any ability to claim the last year I was in the UK as a one year UK no claims bonus. I had a business trip the next morning, and didn't know what to do. I called my boss in Dubai and woke him up (it was midnight there) but he had no better ideas.
                   
I was shocked, left without a choice, and subsequently made £411 poorer.


I'm still trying to figure out what to do next... 
                  
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On a lighter note, Miller is sporting some new head gear. We picked him up from the farm in Wales after travelling back from the US. As usual, he smelled awful but was bounding around as if he owned the place. We took him home, gave him a bath, and settled in.
                   
A few nights later, we noticed he was scratching and biting a spot on his back where we'd noticed a bump before. The vet at the time had thought it was an ingrown hair and would go away, but now as we felt it we could feel it was raised much more and could feel other bumps nearby.
                        
I took him to the vet Friday afternoon and she shaved off some fur to get a better look. The poor pup had so many bug bites! She suspected that it was an insect/flea from the farm, and said our monthly Frontline treatments might not deter all the different fleas. So Miller got a steroid shot, a fancy skin soothing shampoo, and a cone of shame.
                             

             
The vet said he would get better about walking around it in, but as far as the furniture, stairs, and the backs of our legs are concerned, we haven't seen any improvement. 

Chriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiisssstmassssssssssss...

One of the things that concerned both Kathleen and I was spending another Christmas away from our families. We both enjoy our families so much that is was hard to think of missing out on all the fun for a second year in a row. I know for Kathleen this includes an amazing seafood dinner at her Mom’s, some complicated game usually involving cards (that I suck at) with her brothers, and Christmas morning itself at her Dad’s. For me Christmas is a chance to just laugh a lot with my family. When the three of us are together, my brothers and I always tend to behave like idiots. However when you add in some holiday cheer (aka copious amounts of alcohol), it really is pretty perfect. However Kathleen and I resolved ourselves to Christmas over here in late summer and although there was a valiant (and very very touching) attempt to get us back there last minute, we had already put plans in place.
                       
The tree was purchased and went up the first weekend in December. Although this was a bit early for me historically, it definitely got things kicked into gear quickly. That same weekend we bought Christmas Vacation and White Christmas on DVD and watched Elf for the first time. We also listened to the Elf soundtrack a good dozen or so times which insured that I had Christmas carols thoroughly stuck in my head for the next 4 weeks (who knew that I happen to run to the exact tempo of every carol every written?). Anyhow, this first weekend was when we also started to lay out the menus for our first Christmas as a family. We figured since it was just the three of us, we were free to experiment as much as we wanted with the food.

I was to be in charge of Christmas Eve dinner and Christmas breakfast. Kathleen took on the task of planning and executing the main event’s evening meal. Although it seemed like she had the tougher of the tasks, I did not know about the ace that was still up her sleeve. You see Kathleen had to travel back to the US for the entire week before Christmas. The morning of her departure (at least that is what it seemed like) she handed me a two page list of groceries to purchase while she was away. When I asked why we had to get everything so early she proceeded to tell me how chaos prevails during Christmas at the grocery store and the shelves will emptied like there was nuclear war imminent. I consoled myself by deciding that this surely meant I could add whatever things I wanted to the list including two bottles of Jameson’s Irish Whiskey, sour cream and onion Pringles, frozen mini-pizza apps, and a package of Millionaires Flapjacks that the British creepily describe as ‘naughty’ but are ridiculously good tasting and awful for you. (Oh and for the record, despite going to do the main shopping 10 days early, we returned to the grocer three more times and it was never really that crowded nor bare of food).
                        

The weekend she did get home, we received our first flurries of the year. Snow is just so stupidly exciting for me; I was automatically in an amazing mood. That Sunday we had also planned to go see the Messiah. I have seen it performed numerous times with my parents in the US, and when I lived in Japan I saw it done by a Japanese Catholic choir. Kathleen and I also saw it performed in Montreal at an old cathedral one winter and it was amazing. I also have fond memories of listening to this with my dad as he enjoys a glass of scotch and explains why everyone stands during the Hallelujah chorus. So this is a holiday must for me and we were looking forward to it in the modern Metropolitan Cathedral in Liverpool. To summarize, it was long, cold, acoustically poor, and the champagne spritzer served at Intermission was undrinkable... We made it until the end of the Hallelujah chorus and then jetted out the back door. Sure the head priest gave us a dirty look, but come on the man was wrapped in a heavy blanket like robe while the rest his flock was freezing! Ahh… the holidays!
                                            

Kathleen had to work on Christmas Eve despite her numerous attempts to change her bosses mind (as well as some direct email pleas/commands to him by yours truly). Miller and I woke up, ran, and then settled in to a three hour extended edition of Aliens while we waited for her to get home. I can say that watching this particular movie with my dog was pure bliss and relaxation. That evening I cooked a red Thai curry with shrimp. Despite our lack of religious beliefs, Kathleen wanted to stick with the seafood tradition, and we had fun drinking Irish whiskey and de-veining shrimp. The curry turned out pretty amazing. After opening one gift each, we settled in to yet another viewing of Elf.

We woke up around 9am on Christmas day which was actually the latest I think I have every gotten up. First thing was to take Miller out to Sefton Park and make sure he got some exercise. It had actually snowed a few inches the night of the 23^rd and that dog loves chasing snowballs. The night of the 24^th was super cold and the park was like a skating rink which made the whole walk even more amusing. He is just not too good on his feet (takes after his Mom I suppose). When we got back to the house we did the presents thing and we definitely made out like bandits. I guess everyone felt bad we were all alone?? After the carnage, I proceed to make Kathleen stuffed French toast. This was one of her favorite breakfasts we used to get at Blue Star in Winooksi. I did not do it justice, but stuffed hers with a ton of banana, and added fresh nutmeg and real Vermont Maple Syrup to add to the deliciousness.

Christmas dinner is where Kathleen took over, rightfully so. She had bought a pork loin from a local butcher and found an amazing recipe involving lots of spices and honey. She had it cooking in the oven most of the day and it definitely turned out delicious. In addition to the pork loin she cooked a sweet potato spinach gratin that we somehow convinced ourselves covered off the ‘vegetable’ part of the meal. To finish it all off she had baked a Waiting for Wilma pecan pie made with melted dark chocolate and dulce de leche. It was so sweet that we could only eat it slivers at a time, but was pretty amazing.

We capped off our celebration with a few beers watching the Johnny Cash Christmas Special from 1979. This was amazing in so many ways. It is too much to describe but I say watch it and get ready for the softer side of the Man in Black.

All in all it was a pretty great holiday. We definitely missed our families and spent a lot of time, calling, texting, and ‘web-camming.’ However it also pretty rad for the three of us to hide out over here and enjoy each other’s company. This whole year has just been amazing for us to be able to spend so much time together and I am not quite sure if we will ever have another opportunity to do so. I think it is a pretty good sign that we are not sick of each other yet as well.
          

Having thoroughly done the holiday, we started to pack our bags for Scotland!

... And we're back!

For those of you still reading, we are still here, we're good and we're sorry we've left the blog alone for a few weeks. We could blame it all on Miller, but the truth is we haven't had much to write about.

Well, beyond how much fun it's been to have that little furball waiting for us every evening when we come home. We've been spending as much time as we can out in the park, in the early morning hours and after dropping off our keys and grabbing Miller's ball at the end of the day. Mark's been having Miller join him on his morning runs (only a few more days til the marathon!) and has actually been able to have him off lead. I know Miller's enjoying it because I walk out of the shower in the morning to find him curled back up in his bed, sleeping after the exercise and his breakfast.

This past weekend, the weather forecast was touch and go until Friday afternoon. When we saw the predictions of sunshine, Mark went online and found a hike in the Lake District, several hours north of us.

Saturday morning, we packed up our bags and coaxed Miller into the car. Two hours later, we had left the industrial flatlands behind and found ourselves surrounded by rolling hills and cosy villages. After a bit of difficulty finding parking, we were off:

While the six miles weren't the most grueling we'd ever done, it felt great to get out of the city and see a bit more of the country. It was my first trip to the Lake District, and Mark's second. Keswick, where our hike started and ended, was a pretty little town with a market in full swing. After dodging raindrops on our return, we stumbled into a small vegetarian cafe with a bicycle shop attached. They sweetly welcomed Miller in (we were prepared to sit outside in the rain on benches to eat our lunch) and we had a great meal. Including Miller, who got four dog biscuits at the end for being so good.

The rest of our weekend was spent wedding planning. We've picked our readings and have sketched out the majority of our ceremony service with Carol. I've begun sketching out a website for our guests to learn more about the area and our plans. We've also picked out wedding invites, which I will be printing, assembling, addressing and posting while I'm home in June. We're picking out our wedding bands and trying to pick an engraving.

While at times we've both grown a bit stressed, I know we're both looking forward to the big day. It's just a bit difficult to stay focused on the end goal, and trying not to sweat the small stuff. I've found myself growing increasingly homesick, and I think that's definitely coming into play. It's hard not to feel out of touch and a bit sad when we keep imagining and planning having all the people we care about together - only to realize how far away that day is. 

It will be good to head home in a few weeks...

T-12 hours

Last weekend we were blessed with a truly rare occurrence in Northwest England: an entire weekend of gorgeous, sunny weather.  

What else... Oh, yes! You may have already heard, but Miller Brosnahan Yates is due to arrive in the United Kingdom in twelve hours. In fact we might have already told you, ad nauseum, about how much we missed him, how we counted the days until he would join us, how teary-eyed I became while watching ten second videos sent over by his Aunt Nikki.  Allow me to nauseate you further.

Saturday was spent driving out of the city to suburbia and strip malls... Home of 'Pets at Home,' our closest pet supply store. There Mark and I wandered the aisles examining unfamiliar brand names and debating the merits of attractive packaging and pronounceable ingredient lists. Having settled on 15 kilos of food for Milhouse, we then made our way to the bed section, unloading our entire Miller-is-finally-joining-us saga to an unsuspecting couple purchasing a new bed for their dog while we pulled beds out and debated the value of houndstooth patterns vs. a supportive mattress. Our selection made, we then filled the rest of the cart with assorted toys, treats, shampoo, brushes, toys, treats, a new leash and collar... All to the tune of £130. Which really is just  a drop in the bucket, considering how much his one-way airfare cost.

And it's all worth it. Though I have to be honest, the cookies at the end are really more about Mark finishing his last ginormous training run (twenty miles!) before running the Belfast Marathon on May 4th. Because I want to be sure to replace all the healthy things he did, like burning calories, with butter. And Green & Black's chocolate.

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The video below has been making the rounds at work. I cried the first time I watched it and then immediately grew suspicious that I was being 'had,' as they say. A quick check on Snopes.com verified the story, and I convinced a few colleagues to watch it again today. And I cried, again. I may be a giant sucker, but let's just say that Mark's Flip camera might be recording a few poignant moments tomorrow afternoon, and we'll see if I'm the only one crying this time...

Art and Culture in London

So believe it or not, our vacation in London was not entirely spent filming each other act alternately embarrassing (see: Mark's NYE dance moves), rude (see: my blatant disregard of the handicap notice on the tube and self-righteous "dickhead" comment to Mark) or obnoxious (see: video of us running parallel to the rest of the Jack the Ripper tour in an effort to get ascloseaspossible to our tour guide; note that this occurred at ALL stops along tour, and not only the stop showed).

In fact, we spent most of our time walking the city and enjoying our location in Zone 1 of the tube for its proximity to museums and must-see locales. We visited the Tate Modern, and paid the fee to see a (crowded) Mark Rothko exhibit of his Seagram murals and many of his other late works. We spent several hours at the Tate, exploring its permanent collection as well, but it was absolutely crazy-crowded - and a marked difference from my last visit several years ago, when I was able to wander the near-empty museum. I hope that we get an opportunity to return in a few months and view the works in a less hectic atmosphere.
We also visited the British museum, which is known best for an ongoing battle with the Greek government concerning the rightful ownership of a number of murals chiseled off the Parthenon. Have to say I sort of agree with the Greeks, though the museum has some printed propaganda to the effect that the Brits saved the murals from irreparable harm after the Turks turned the Parthenon into a storage site for live ammo...

The museum is also famous for its stunning courtyard, and I have to agree - while the museum looks pretty nondescript (though large) from the street, the courtyard took my breath away. What else is this museum known for... ah, yes - the Rosetta Stone. We saw it...(or, at least, a part of it)

Have I mentioned that the museums were really crowded over the holidays? Craziness, and I have to think it was a bit worse this year, with the weak pound making it more affordable for people from all over Europe to come into the city.

We also walked around the city, visiting Trafalgar Square, Buckingham Palace, Westminster Abbey, Parliament, St. James Park... A picture of Trafalgar is below:
Big Ben:
We also visited the British library near King's Cross, and though I don't have any good photos of the inside of the library, it was stunning. It was bustling with students performing research and citizens enjoying the amazing collection of works spanning centuries of literature in England and beyond - we saw the Magna Carta, 1st editions of Shakespeare's plays, illustrated bibles produced in monasteries in 800AD, scrolls from ancient China, and the list goes on. The library itself is a modern building built around a center tower for the stacks of books, with floors built like platforms around the tower with kiosks and tables for people. There's also an entire section of the library devoted to the repair and recovery of old works, and we were able to learn about how the curators repair ripped pages, reinforce disintegrated, acidic pages and hand-sew destroyed bindings.

NYE 2008

Happy New Year's from London! In case you're still getting ready for the 3-2-1 countdown, here's a little something to get you extra-excited:

Jack the Ripper and my best night in London

So on Monday night we got to do my most anticipated activity of this whole trip to London – the Jack the Ripper Tour! I remember back when Lenny was studying abroad in London and Spencer went for a visit. One of the most exciting things I heard about that they did (besides purchasing their lady-killing Storm watches) was this incredible tour that went all over the seedy side of London to where Jack the Ripper killed prostitutes. On top of that, the tour included a stop at many pubs where they were able to get their drink going. In my head, this tour was kind of the coolest thing in the world and consisted of 6 to 8 strangers who all got on great and spent the night learning all the gruesome details about Jack the Ripper and got drunk to boot! However, as I began to research such tours I realized that my experience might be a bit different.

After searching through a dozen or so websites, we came across one company called London Walks that had a lot of positive reviews. We learned that there was no need to book and that we just needed to show up outside the Tower Hill tube stop at 7:30pm. This made me a little wary because other sites had touted how prior booking was needed on their tours to insure that tours were capped at 30 people. However, I convinced myself that since it was Christmas Week and freezing cold outside, that there surely could not be 30 people who were interested in going on this particular tour, so we set out.

During the subway ride I worked myself up like only I can because the website had warned of fraudulent tour operators who would be lurking near the exit and would take our money and run. I reminded Kathleen a few hundred times that we needed to “suspect everyone and trust no one.” I also took a quick video to distract myself and keep Kathleen happy:

Finally we arrived at the tube stop and walked outside. What we were confronted with was kind of awful in a way. It reminded me a bit of the cattle pens that Michael Pollen describes in The Omnivore’s Dilemma. Here is another quick video. Notice how happy and excited everyone looks!

At this point we forked over our £7 and proceeded to lay out our plan for the tour. By the appointed start time there were probably about 100 people or so. They decided to split the group into two groups since there were two guides (neither of whom were the Jack the Ripper specialist who had written multiple books and is touted all over the website). After a quick analysis of speaking styles we decided to risk going with the larger group being led by the male. He had a nice loud voice (and tended to roll his R’s very theatrically) so we thought we would learn the most. Unfortunately, he decided to stay an extra five minutes to wait for any latecomers. I swear by the middle of the tour we had about a hundred people.

Our tactic was to stick to the tour guide as closely as possible throughout the two hours. We would do our best to get as close to him as possible when he spoke and would try to anticipate which direction the tour would go next. We would then at times run as quickly as we could to make sure we had a good spot at the next location. There were a few light elbows thrown in the process as well as I was not letting anyone prevent me from getting my full £7 worth. I think the guide thought we were a bit off since at every stop there were Kathleen and I front and centre with our Flip Video ready to go.

The tour itself was actually really good. Due to our offensive approach we had absolutely no problems hearing the tour guide or understanding where we were and what its significance was. The tour wrapped all through the border between East London and London proper. We saw a lot of old buildings and sections of the old Roman wall. We learned in pretty impressively gory detail all about the murders that took place and the botched investigation that followed. (Kathleen was actually surprised at some of the details provided considering there were children on the tour) We saw three of the murder sites, an old soup kitchen, and a lot of the buildings that still exist from the 1880’s. Although we did not go into the pub, we saw the Ten Bells which is where the last victim was last seen on the night of her murder. Here is one of the quick stops that we took.

After the tour finished, Kathleen and I went down one of the Jack the Ripper alleys and found a great Thai restaurant called Sri Thong: http://www.srithong.co.uk/
Kathleen had been missing Thai food since we got to the UK so we were stoked to find the place. It is certainly no Tiny Thai, but the food was excellent. All in all, we had a really fun time on this. Although it was drastically different from what I had imagined Lenny and Spencer doing 12 years ago, the guide and the structure of the tour were excellent. You definitely need to look past the blatant commercialization of the whole thing as well as the scores of other tour participants, but I highly recommend it.

Oh and I had terrible nightmares that night. I awoke from one and sat there for about an hour before I could fall back asleep. So that was pretty cool too, I guess… Do a quick google image search of ‘jack the ripper victims’ if you want to have nightmares without having to fly to London and spend the £7.

Christmas

It was a little crazy, but we managed to work a half day, get home, pack, and make our train to London on Christmas Eve. The train ride down was uneventful, but it was also quiet - very unlike our Christmas Eves in the past.

We were traveling to spend our holidays in a friend's apartment in Warwick Square in London. We decided not to come home for Christmas since we'd only arrived in the UK a few weeks before, and it seemed silly to return home so soon. And we ended up having a great Christmas - we missed our families, and both of us got quiet at some points during the day, but we managed to make this year pretty special.

One of the best parts was when we arrived at the apartment late Christmas Eve and started to unpack. Unbeknownst to me, Mark had gone to the "pound store" and stocked up on tacky Christmas decorations and lights. I am a total sucker for Christmas decorations, and while we weren't able to lug our tree down, it was a thoughtful surprise.

Christmas morning, we woke up and started to open gifts. Everything we got was so thoughtful, but I think our faviorite was the picture book of Miller. We both got a little teary-eyed, and we think next year we'll try to do Christmas in England again, so we don't miss him a second time.

We went for a long walk around our new neighborhood, and found ourselves along the Thames, by Westminster Abbey and Big Ben (our new neighborhood is "posh"), before ambling into a pub for a few pints by a warm fireplace. Mark had made reservations for us in a Turkish restaurant a few miles away, so we only lingered a few hours before returning home to fancy ourselves up and have a delicious dinner.

You all were missed.

Speke Hall and Crosby Beach

Our first weekend in England was filled with trips to IKEA and our local home electronics store, Curry’s, where they're just as incompetent as the people at our local Best Buy in Somerville. But the most important thing was that we got a TV, a DVD player, and a Christmas tree. We also went into the city and saw the Tate Modern extension at Albert Dock, which was pretty neat. Liverpool is Europe’s “City of Culture” for 2008, and it’s cool to see how much they’ve embraced the title.

Our second weekend, we decided to try to explore the area a bit more. Which, for Mark, meant Christmas shopping. I was planning to do all mine online, but I was game and we walked to our local train station to head into the city.

I won’t talk about the next two hours, because they were a blur of far too many Christmas shoppers and bad mall music. Mark was successful and gathered a few gifts, while I paced the cobblestone streets until he was ready to meet back up. But then we wandered about a bit, away from the more commercial downtown shopping district (cobblestone pedestrian-only streets and the biggest mall I’ve ever seen, “Liverpool One”) and toward a hipper, younger area with music, bars, and a bunch of smaller shops. It was nice to find the area, and we had a few beers before heading home for the night.

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We’ve met a few of our neighbors, and they all happen to be “pensioners,” people who’ve retired and can now get tax discounts and ride public transportation for free. They also really like meeting their neighbors, and we’ve been roped into an evening of carolling and drinks tomorrow evening, so that should be… Interesting.

But one of them, John, mentioned that we should visit Speke Hall, a local attraction. I looked it up on Wikipedia the other day but have forgotten any other details about it, beyond it’s proximity to Liverpool’s airport and the Tudor-syle house. We decided to venture out on Sunday morning during a break in the drizzle.

One of the coolest things about England (I think) is the abundance of public footpaths. On nearly any street, you can see these small signs pointing out to public ways across properties ranging from churches and private homes to large farms and land trusts. It makes me look forward to having Miller here.

Anyway, we found one of these footpaths leading to Speke Hall (there was also a road, but that’s too easy). We spent an hour or so walking about the impeccably groomed grounds before exploring the adjacent woods, eventually ending up on a well-worn path atop an earthen wall. Elevation is key here, because it rains nearly every day and all of our other paths were waterlogged and muddy. Anyway, this circled around the property, eventually bringing us to the airport. A little weird, but we took some pictures and then headed back to the car.

We then drove through Liverpool to the mouth of the River Mersey, where it meets the Irish Sea. This is a heavily industrial area, filled with busy docks and some pretty rough areas. But there is also some gentrification in spots, and some efforts recently to set up parklands. Mark had heard about an art installation nearby, so we parked the car and began walking toward the shore as the sun fell (it was about 330pm).

The artwork was amazing and a bit haunting. The artist, Anton Gromley, made a cast of himself and produced 100 identical iron statues. These are placed along three kilometres of barren coastline, punctuated only by razor clamshells and urban detritus (read into that as you will). On the horizon are enormous wind turbines which, in the evening haze and fog, seem eerily futuristic, like the imagined coastline in a Philip K Dick novel. And then you notice all these solitary figures, their gazes fixed at the sea, as if waiting for someone to arrive. I don’t know if the installation is meant to be so sad, but it seemed so to me.

Arrival

Welcome to our new blog! Our hope is that this serves as a spot for friends and family to stay updated on our adventures and also a travel journal for us.

(Quick aside: The blog title is a reference to our minor adventure discovering the Brits' unabashed love for mayonnaise. It's inescapable. It's gross. It's pretty much the worst.)

I've been informed that I need to write the first entry, since I was the first to arrive some fifteen days ago. We're still without internet at home, so these first few posts may be a bit erratic, but we'll try to be better about updating the site once we're able to work from home.

I arrived early one Sunday morning and was picked up at the airport by Joyce, my new HR manager, and an absolute godsend these past few weeks. I'm afraid I didn't make much conversation, but arrived at the apartment and collapsed for several hours in bed. I woke up in the early afternoon and tried to venture out in the neighborhood, but everything in walking distance appeared to be shut down and the one open store wouldn't take my credit card (the British seem really fearful of "fraud" and all their cards are microchipped, which has made using our American cards a bit hit or miss, particularly in smaller local shops). I wandered back to the apartment as night fell (ahem, at 4 o'clock in the afternoon) and made some tea before unpacking a bit and falling asleep. There was no TV/internet at home, so I read a 1000 page book that Sunday, too, and then knitted myself to sleep the rest of the week (until pilfering a laptop and some DVDs from work).

My first week at work was pretty uneventful, except for the fun of convincing the local HSBC branch that I only wanted to open a checking account (and not launder money)... what else... Oh, yeah, in the first hour of having access to a car here, I knocked the passenger side view mirror off. In front of my boss. Awesome. Definite confidence-booster.

You'd think the problem would be staying on the left-hand side of the road, but the issue is really drifting left (since you're used to centering yourself in the lane from the left-hand side of the car). The "accident," if you would even call it that, was really so minor, but it definitely startled me a bit. The following night, my satellite navigation crashed mid-route home, but I was proudly able to get myself home.

And that's pretty it, for my first week or so in Liverpool, until Mark arrived! I was missing him so much, and we had some fun activities planned for that first day...