Kikki Travel Archives - London 2009 - "The Beautiful Game"

Sept. 16, 2009

So much for the Queen's Word of the Day. Frankly, I can't keep up with all these bloody words and phrases. Instead, some football commentary:

"Football"

As most of you folks who live in Blue states probably know, "football" - in all other parts of the world, is actually what we North Americans refer to as "soccer." And what we refer to as "football" is called "American football" everywhere but North America.

As I type, I'm watching the Liverpool FC v Debreceni VSC football game, eating some sort of microwaveable, traditional British dish and drinking a glass of cheap red wine. Listening to the European football announcers call the game is the highlight of my day. They just seem to love it.

At this point several of you have probably asked, "where and what in the bloody h*ll is Debreceni?" (sorry, I still won't curse in front of my parents)...well I asked myself the same thing. After less than 10 seconds of Googling and a little Wiki magic, I learned the following:

-Debrecen is a city in Hungary
-The Hungarian spelling is dɛbrɛt͡sɛni veː ɛʃ t͡se
-In August 2009, they defeated PFC Levski Sofia (you'll have to Google that one on your own) 4–1 on aggregate to become the first Hungarian team in 14 years to qualify for the group stage of the Champions League
-You can read more about Debrecen VSC here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Debreceni_VSC.

I've decided to be a Liverpool fan and have therefore begun to learn more about them. In a nutshell, I've learned that Liverpool are the arch rivals of Manchester United. Think of it as Mets v Yankees.

*The professional football teams in England are collectively known as the "Premier League."

Meanwhile, Liverpool has just won 1-0. Then again, they're playing dɛbrɛt͡sɛni veː ɛʃ t͡se, so nothing to get excited about (pardon the dangling preposition).

Kikki Travel Archives - London 2009 - "On London"

Sept. 11, 2009

As you all know, U.K. drivers drive on the opposite side of U.S. drivers. That's fairly common knowledge. What I've not noticed until this trip, however is that the local Londoners walk on the opposite side too. When Adam and I were in London last year, our use of public transportation and general wandering about took place during "off peak" hours, so the "opposite walking" wasn't terribly obvious. This time around I've noticed during rush hour that the natural inclination here is for people to stay to the left when going up/down the stairs, along the sidewalk, etc. They also beeline toward their left to move out of the way. It was only today that I noticed OUR (we Americans) inclination is to head to the right. To my NY colleagues who take public transportation, pay attention the next time you're moving through a crowded subway station or down the sidewalk - you'll naturally go right to avoid oncoming foot traffic...just as I do here in London, which explains why I've just barely escaped several deaths by stampede.

The grocery stores here sell very decent wine, beer AND hard liquor (they sell food too). I'm fortunate to be in what they call an "apart'hotel," which is effectively an efficiency apartment. I've got a small kitchen that allows me to cook, so I've been by the local grocery a couple of times already. It's the same grocery store staff every night and they're very friendly. My favorite person is the security guard, whom I befriended my first night when he helped me find a corkscrew (see "very decent wine, beer AND hard liquor").

I went out Thursday night with my colleagues (see "pissed" above). We started at the pub which is less than four feet from the door of our office and quite inescapable if you're trying to leave unnoticed and head straight home ("OY, YOU'RE NOT LEAVING ARE YOU?"). I then followed my new colleagues across the London Bridge to another pub. Before I knew it, it was closing time and we were being kicked out. I was so impressed with myself for being a rockstar and shutting down a bar (I haven't done that since my 20s), until I realized it was only 11pm (the bars in NYC shut down at 4am). I learned that until recently, 11pm was the standard closing time for London pubs. In recent years, closing time has been extended to approximately 1am with a special permit. Most local neighborhood pubs have yet to bother applying for that extended license, so 11pm it is. So much for my being a rockstar.

And finally, I've found that the Queen's English - in most cases - is slightly more literal than "American" English. For example, you won't find "Exit" signs, but rather "way out" signs with arrows pointing to the way out. Very concise, n'est ce pas? Additionally I stop off at a coffee shop for a caffeine fix, I'm asked, "is that for here or to take away?" "Take away" is the British "to go." So each morning I say, "I'll have a cup of coffee to take away." In NYC, you park on the street and then dump your change into a "muni-meter." In return, you get a receipt that you must place in your windshield. In London, you park on the street and dump your change into a "pay and display." After all, that's precisely what you're doing.

Kikki Travel Archives - London 2009 - "Queen's English"

Sept. 9, 2009:

"Give you a bell" - synonymous with the American "give you a ring" or "give you a call," but cuter.

Sept. 11, 2009:

"Cheers." I've found this to be a somewhat multi-purpose exclamation, which is basically synonymous with "thanks." Although sometimes I hear a combination, "thanks, cheers!"

"That's Alright." This is synonymous with "you're welcome" or "no problem." For each pint I'm handed, I reply "thanks*," and 9 times out of 10 my enabler-of-the-moment responds "that's alright." *I'm not yet comfortable with "cheers." I'd just sound affected. Give me time. I'll still sound affected, I just won't think so.

"OY." In London, this is an exclamation synonymous with "HEY" (as opposed to my Jewish grandmother's exclamation of annoyance).

"Off his tits." This is synonymous with "out of his mind," "crazy," "off his rocker," etc.

"Pissed." Meaning "drunk" or "wasted."

"Tube" = "Subway"

Palin Goes to Debate Camp

http://www.upi.com/Top_News/2008/09/29/Report_Palin_goes_to_debate_camp/UPI-80201222668385/

That's sweet. I wonder if she and John-John toast marshmallows by the fire at night.

I really don't know if I'll be able to handle an entire 90 minutes worth of Sarah Palin stuttering through sound bites on Thursday night. I seriously can't listen to her - she's like one of those customer service representatives who is given a book of canned responses, and if one of those responses doesn't answer the question being asked, she loses all sense of speech and effectively keeps repeating, "try re-booting your device."

Palin Rant

I've just read the following article from New York magazine http://nymag.com/news/politics/powergrid/50277/, and it has reminded me that we should all be afraid - very afraid of the uninformed.

C’mon ladies, seriously? Supporting Sarah Palin simply because she’s a woman is a crock – and to be fair, I said the same thing about Hillary. Get informed. If you want to vote for McCain, fine - but do it because you have researched and agree with his platform and ideals, not because you like his running mate's kicky outfits and bouffant-y hair.

Fervent supporters of Sarah Palin are the reason why George W. Bush was elected to a second term, and why Rachel Ray has a career. I am consistenly reminded how backwards a good portion of our country still is.

OPEN YOUR EYES LADIES. Sarah Palin openly seeks to reverse Roe v. Wade. How any woman could possibly identify with someone who would seek to overturn a woman’s basic right to govern her own body is beyond me – whether you’re pro-choice or pro-life, what you choose to do with YOUR body should be your choice alone. Sarah Palin would take that right from you with two clicks of her shiny red heels.

Kikki Travel Archives - Mexico City 2007 - "Business Trip Adventures"

March 27, 2007

So I'm in Mexico City until Thursday for a series of client meetings and a big event to celebrate the first local Mexican broker to trade on my firm's trade order routing network. Now that might not sound exciting to you all, but it did get me to Mexico City for 2.5 days, so why not?! Following is part one of my Corporate Mexican Adventure Diary:

It's 10:16 a.m. and I'm flying the friendly skies en route to Mexico City. My dream of an exciting corporate adventure is slowly dimming:

Disappointment number 1: Absolutely nobody on the plane except for me is wearing a sombrero.

Disappointment number 2: the audio system on the plane is broken, so no in-flight movie, which means no Rocky Balboa. Oh well, I'll have to be satisfied with the in-flight mariaci band.

Disappointment number 3: no in-flight mariachi band. I'll bend on Balboa, but being denied the ear-tickling sensation that comes from 3 harmonious Mexican men in matching sequined vests singing LaBamba is downright inhumane. Where's my tequila dammit?

Disappointment number 4: no worm in my $5 miniature bottle of Jose Cuervo. So far this trip is NOT going well. I'm hoping it's just because this is a U.S.-originated flight – you know how they skimp. When I flew from New York to Paris they gave us a bottle of Evian and some crackers – on the flight back, Jacques Chirac himself served us individual baguettes followed by a four-course meal and champagne. Cheap Americans.

Oops, gotta go – my laptop is collapsing into my seatback tray table due to the sudden reclining of the man in front of me. Time to sit back, relax, and fill out my customs declaration form – trust me, a 4.5 hour flight and no Stallone, you can bet I'll have plenty to declare…

It's 11:13 a.m. and I've just finished my in-flight meal, which consisted allegedly of chicken, corn and something mashed. I may have enjoyed it a bit more had it not been for the cherubic blonde toddler running up and down the aisle screeching while her mother and father, clearly believers of passive parenting, watched in amusement from their seats. I should also mention that my foot just missed being mangled by a beverage cart – happens to be the same foot that only moments before I thought about sticking out to thwart the progress of the cherubic toddler. Karma.

Prior to my meal, I was reading about the remarkable life of Frida Kahlo, Mexico's tragic, beautiful, and bisexual* artist whose paintings continue to sell more than any other female artist. Visitors still flock to Coyoacan, Mexico to tour her Casa Azul, or Blue House – the home Frida shared with her husband when she wasn't having affairs with Trotsky and Josephine Baker. I am inspired. Drawing on Frida's incredible female strength, I will now end this entry so that I may begin drafting my business plan for the "Casa Azul Eyebrow Waxing Salon and Day Spa." More later.

*In her book, 100 Places Every Woman Should Go, Stephanie Elizondro Griest thought it important to note Frida's bisexuality, so I followed suit, or skirt, as it were.

9:17 p.m. on Tuesday (7:17 pm Mexico time) –

So things are starting to look up. For one thing, I made it from the airport to the hotel without getting kidnapped. Part of me is disappointed. I had visions of Denzel Washington coming to my rescue, only to find that I'd befriended Javier Bardim, my sympathetic kidnapper. Oh well, maybe next time.

Dios Mio! I just Googled Javier Bardim's name for proper spelling (so much for those stream of conscience exercises) and Google is in Spanish…the fact that I find that to be cool shows what a geocentric little American twit I actually am, not to mention one chip short of a nacho plate (which, p.s. is an American Tex Mex dish, not a traditional Mexican dish). "Oh my god, so like Google comes in other languages?"

Meanwhile, my new best friend EVER is Alejandro – my personal driver for the extent of my stay and also the Mexican equivalent of Borat. During my Mr. Toad's Magic Ride from the airport to the hotel (apparently nobody's ever heard of traffic laws in Mexico City), Alejandro and I spoke to each other in broken Spanglish:

• Alejandro: "Ehhhh, my friend, he teach me English words, but they no good words. Like son….of….beeetch…..only you say much faster."
• Me: "Si, sonofabitch."
• Alejandro: "son…off…abeetch."
• Me: "sonofabitch"
• Alejandro: "sonoffa….beetch"
• Me: close enough…hey, is that the Corona Factory?
• Alejandro: Yays.

So a quick run-down. Mexico looks EXACTLY like what you were expecting Mexico to look like when you arrived in Cancun as a sorority girl, only to find that it was resortish and boring. But Mexico, the REAL Mexico is both ramshackled and poverty-stricken, but beautiful and exotic too. It turns out that my company's local office and the W Hotel (from which I write to you now like a wannabe wealthy ex-pat) are in a part of Mexico City called Polanco…it's actually quite lovely – sort of the Beverly Hills ofMexico City.

Back to things looking up - In a nutshell, there's a hammock in my hotel shower…my ridiculous palatial shower that I can't help but feel a bit of guilt over, given the poverty I've seen today. It's absurd really. I should go on a diatribe, effect change and give all my pesos to the little girl that was selling snack food on the side of the road today. But instead I'm going to go swing in my shower hammock and look down at the world from my 24^th floor view and ignore the pangs of gringo guilt. Wow, guess I really am an American.

One down.

So this is my blog...guess I can check that off the list.