Pardon Moi, Je Suis Américain

I may have said this before, but up to this point in my time here abroad, I have found no one who has been especially rude to me because I'm American. For the Brits, it's easy to tell an American from everyone else based on gesticulation, vocabulary, idioms, and of course accents. My whole approach is to be very humble, lots of pleases and thank you's, and just trying to think in my mind how I would want someone from another country to address me in America. It's really simple, actually. Removing the cultural ego goes a long way and, unlike some people in this house whose ethnocentrism gets in the way of their interactions with others, I have been treated well in return. Hopefully I've earned America some credit here too, albeit the dent one poor soul can make is depressingly small. I have always been proud of my country, and I will support America through thick and thin and against the verbal lashings of any foreign soul, but luckily it hasn't come to that. Maybe it means, at least from my experience, Americans aren't as reviled as everyone dramatizes our place in the world. But of course, all this was before I went to France this past weekend.
One of the places I was determined to visit this semester was the French Riviera. I know, I know. It's cold. It's off-season. The French are meanies. Blah blah blah. Well, cover your ears now, Francophobes... I just so happen to be part French myself. Half French-Canadian to be exact, so forgive me if I don't harbor the same animosity as many in my country. Instead, I've always heard good things about the Riviera and in-season or not, it just seemed like a cool place to be. Couple that with a good deal on a flight and hostel and the trip was booked along with a group of others from this house and Pepperdine's Lausanne program. So did I meet the furious anti-Americanism that I feared heading into one of America's cultural rival? No. But then again, I tried.
You see, I took six years of French in middle school and high school. Don't get me wrong, I'm terribly rotten at the language and I never excelled in the subject, but I have a basic comprehension of what to say and when to say it. Certain phrases aren't terribly difficult and a few members of our group latched onto them like a life-preserver, usually with moderate levels of success. At least the French weren't rude to them. Others decided that since most French speak some English, they wouldn't bother trying out a new language or at least making an effort. And it's true, many of the French did in fact speak English, some quite well. But the English-only crowd came away upset about the rudeness of the French towards them and irritated over the cultural divide. Gee, I wonder why.
Now I'm not saying it's easy. It was for me, but only because I have a certain background in the language. When I go to Greece and possibly Italy next month, I'll be just as lost as everyone else. But I can assure you at the very least I'll make an effort, since I'm convinced thats all the French wanted to see. No one expects an English-speaker to be fluent in their language, especially an American, but as the saying goes, it's the thought that counts. Perhaps that's why I came away amazed by my experience in Nice, Monaco, Cannes, and the small beach-side villages of Juan-les-Pins and Villefranche. I'm not going to lie, it was an incredible time and I'd love to go back when it's actually warm and in-season (and yes, crowded with other tourists).
Some of the scenes of the Riviera, especially in Villefranche looked like they were right out of an impressionist painting. I wish I were a rich man who could afford to have a cottage there to use as a respite from the rest of the world.... Actually, I wish I had a mansion there and access to the Casino in Monte-Carlo. But regardless, I had a tremendous time and I owe it all to making an extra effort. It's funny, while we were in Nice, Carnaval was going on all weekend and one of the main attractions was a night time parade on Saturday. You know the kind, floats, music, little kids with silly string stalking through the crowds like silent assassins. Well one of the floats was an aggrandized scene entitled "American Tourists" that showed an overweight, sun-burned American couple armed with a camera and map and screaming of obnoxious attitudes. They probably are the kind that ask for Freedom Fries in a fine French restaurant. Or worse, go to McDonald's there instead of the insane amounts of cheap beach side cafes right next door (No, I am not contradicting my post below entitled Eat Fresh. I am a struggling American student staying for a prolonged period of time in the UK. When I put my tourist hat on, I dive right in to the local cuisine). And while stereotypes like that are fundamentally flawed and insulting to the majority of Americans who aren't like that, it's pretty obvious that a parade float ridiculing a certain group of people would be ample evidence of why NOT TO BE LIKE THAT.
In any event, after Nice it was right back into the fire of school work here in London. It's crunch time for a bunch of classes that end before we relocate for a month to Greece so there's a ton of work due during this time. I kinda wish I didn't book my trip to Paris for this weekend but it's too late now. I think the compromise I reached was brining my laptop to Paris to tackle work while over there. If anything, I can be like those cool, hip people that bring their laptops to internet cafes and write inspirational stuff... or check Facebook. Either way it should be fun and I'm looking forward to it. And lucky for me, I got my practice run in French last weekend. Paris is a different game, as I'm relatively sure they can get brutal there. Oh well, at least I know one phrase to excuse my ignorance...

Sayanora Castro

Don't let the door hit you on the way out.

Oh, you guys want to hear about Nice? I'll toss something together soon, just busy with a ton of work at the moment. Excusez-moi. Not everything is a vacation!

Eat Fresh

Originally, before I got here to London - nay, when it was just a twinkle in my eye - I always considered English cuisine to be something very different. I mean sure, we have somewhat American-ized versions of Italian, Asian, Mexican and a host of other food palates, but you won't find too many British food restaurants in the US. So I was always curious about the local fare; perhaps out of ignorance or just a sheer lack of exposure. Thus when I got here, I attempted to try and pick up some English tastes and experience the culinary side to England. You'll be happy to know the jury has reached it's verdict: guilty of some pretty mediocre food. The sentencing? Staying far away from mushy peas, black pudding, and shepherd's pie.
You see, I don't want to sound all provincial and unworldly, but I just don't have the right taste buds for kidney pie. I'm sorry, I just don't. So what're the alternatives? Well luckily this is London and there's a plethora of dining opportunities here, but only a few in my price range. Aside from my apprehension for local food, pubs generally serve some good fish & chips - a food I can very much enjoy, especially during Lent- and there are plenty of sandwich and soup places. But every now and then I get a hankering. I crave for a certain delight for my mouth. And my wallet thanks me for it too. Sometimes, I just have to "eat fresh." That's right, I just have to hit up Subway. I know, scoff now. I'm in London, one of the cultural capitals of the world. So many places and opportunities at my fingertips. And I have to choose Subway.
Unfortunately, thats the reality of a student looking for something quick, cheap...er, and pining for the "cheese and toasted." Though in the interest of full disclosure, I must admit to also frequenting Burger King in the train stations and airports before I travel and McDonald's when I'm desperate. OK, how uncouth is that? But even here in South Kensington it's what's quick to get between classes and budget friendly. That doesn't make me a bad person, right? Right? Of course, despite my culinary laziness I have developed a full on love affair with English tea. I sincerely hope that makes up for my occasional "fast food." Otherwise, consider me a contemporary Pygmalion. In any event, I hope to be making a conscious effort to break from my typical routine; my cultured indoctrination may depend on it.

Across the Universe: The Long and Winding Road for a Day Tripper on a Magical Mystery Tour of Wales and the land of Strawberry Fields and Penny Lane

I could have thrown in a dozen more Beatles references if I didn't think it'd make you sick.

This past weekend I really got one of the most complete and satisfying travel experiences as I set off to see the UK outside of Zone 1 (the "eventful" section of London that I live in and tourists flock to). The groundwork of the trip was laid out in my previous post "The Anatomy of a Trip" where I described the frustration of putting a sojourn together in a logical and less expensive manner. But I must say, all the blood, sweat, and tears that went into planning was well worth. The payoff was of course a collection of memories that will last a lifetime.
The family I stayed with in Wales was more hospitable than I could ever imagine. Patty Maxham James, former resident of Fairfield, Conn, took the lead in making sure I not only had a roof over my head, but also a belly full of food, plenty of drink, and an encompassing tour of southern Wales. She took me to a number of castles and historic sights as well as St. Fagan's natural history, Welsh life outdoor museum. I was also privy to attending a pub right next to the Millennium Stadium in Cardiff while the Wales-Scotland rugby match for the Six Nations tournament was being played right next door (Wales won, hooray!). And to think, I may have even picked up a tea habit and have a basic understanding of rugby now! I couldn't be more grateful for everything she and her family did. My only regret was that I left on their son Mo's 10th birthday and I didn't get him a proper present!
The next leg of my journey revolved around my personal pilgrimage to a place I find musically sacred: Liverpool. In case you haven't put it together, I am a big Beatles fan. OK, big might be the wrong way to put it, more like a HUGE GIGANTIC DEDICATED BORDERLINE CULTISH fan of the Beatles. So suffice to say walking in their footsteps was pretty awesome for me. I was traveling by myself this weekend, and unlike Wales where I had a host family, I was pretty much on my own for the better part of a day/day and a half. So upon arrival, I tried to locate the bed and breakfast I had booked for the night in Old Swan. Mind you, Liverpool is a port city with many immigrants and in many ways still has much working class elements since the WWII era depression the area suffered. And the bus ride to Old Swan gave me a good glimpse about that life "outside of Zone 1." This year Liverpool is the European Capital of Culture or something like that, but not every side of the city has seen the rehab job the downtown got. Now that being said, many sections are being refurbished and the city should be an exciting place to be come 2010-2012, but perhaps Liverpool was crowned a bit too soon for all that culture they are building.
In any event, my B&B turned out to be great (aside from being locked in my room for a half hour and wildly banging on the doors to be heard/let out by the maintenance man.... but after that it was cool) and the people were super friendly. And boy, the beer was cheap too, even by American standards for a pint, a pleasant surprise and much different than here in London. After waking up to a full English breakfast, I departed for my tour of the city. The closest bus stop had a bus line that terminated on Penny Lane, so I figured that was as good a place as any to start. And sure enough, everything from the song is there- the shelter in the middle of the roundabout, the barbershop, the bank on the corner (though I didn't see a fireman with an hourglass). Unfortunately it was foggy, but little did I realize I would be back. I hopped a bus for the city centre and made my way towards the Cavern Quarter, where the Beatles were discovered and grew in popularity. It was there that I signed up for a "Magical History Tour"that took us to the birthplaces/homes of all the Beatles, Penny Lane, Strawberry Fields, the school were the lads attended and the church where Paul and John first met. We also got to see some of the major sights in Liverpool like the two dominating cathedrals. After the tour, I made my way over to the Albert Docks to visit the Tate Liverpool and the Beatles Story Museum. All in all it was a pretty satisfying experience and I walked and saw much of where the Fab Four grew up. For a Beatlemaniac like myself, it was kind've a big deal.
Even though I didn't leave the UK, this trip was still important for me and perhaps one of my favorites. Like I said, I flew solo for this journey, though "With a Little Help from my Friends" - sorry, I couldn't resist. But being by myself allowed me to set my own pace and see what I wanted to and not have to worry about what a group felt like bickering about and missing valuable free time. Truth is Liverpool was a journey I had to do by myself, I wouldn't have enjoyed it all otherwise. Don't get me wrong, I love traveling in groups like to Ireland or this weekend coming up to Nice/Monaco, but this was something I had to do for me. Selfish? Of course, but I think I deserved it. Having some alone time with my thoughts and reflections on the importance of what I was seeing helped me to really enjoy the experience. Too bad I can't do that for all my Beatles excursions; after all, I need three other people to complete a decent Abbey Road photo!

A Very Super Tuesday

Don't let this post's title fool you; my Super Tuesday reference is not in regards to an encouraging performance of my preferred candidate (who fared poorly by my estimations). What I intend to discuss, however, is the European and specifically British fascination with the American primary process. From what I've been told, while the general election will garner its share of attention, its the respective Democratic and Republican primaries that generate the most fascination. Don't take my word for it, though. Just ask the BBC.
Part of my Intercultural Communication class assignments was to visit the BBC and a great majority of us did that on Tuesday. Now Tuesday was also the date of the now infamous Super Tuesday in which a large percentage of delegates for the Republican and Democratic conventions were up for grabs by the various candidates. The BBC news center was buzzing with reports coming in from across the United States and England. It seemed everyone had an opinion on who was going to win and why they should, though many (American and Brit alike) lacked a full grasp on how the whole process operated. And who could blame them? As one British columnist asked in a business section of a London paper, "I dare anyone to try and tell me how it really works." Certainly a fair question considering the changes this year's process has undergone. No longer are the three states of Iowa, New Hampshire, and South Carolina largely deciding who the nominee will be. Now, even states like *gasp* Connecticut are attracting crucial visits from the candidates (which sadly I missed as I'm overseas).
But a general lack of understanding doesn't prevent the British populace from enjoying our electoral squabbles, nor should it. Perhaps the names "Super Tuesday" or "Tsunami Tuesday" as some people have redubbed it are too catchy to ignore. The idea of becoming the leader of the free world with almost a Monopoly board game approach can be quite amusing and certainly odd from the perspective of the Brits. Not that their government makes any more sense. But its definitely noticeable how the tabloid press here is using this primary to churn headlines. The first day I walked off the plane, newspaper headlines screamed "Hillary Wins in Primary Shocker" after the New Hampshire primary. Now I'm not sure anyone was "shocked" by her victory stateside, given the fact she poured tremendous amounts of resources into it and at one point was the definite Democratic front runner. But the American presidential race is still enough fodder for the occasional Englishman to scoff, "Those crazy Yanks."
I've taken a keen interest in this, well, British interest in American politics as it strikes me as remarkably unique. I guess I wasn't expecting much hoopla about what the good people of Nevada thought about politics, but I was wrong. At pubs, whenever a local here's my "American accent" (which I still maintain is just the absence of an English accent), the natural response is "Eh, you're American, yeah? What do ya think about the election?" Always pleasantly and curiously, never a demeaning tone. But still there's the palpable hint of "...and don't you think the whole process is batty" about to roll off the tongue before the questioner checks themself.
Personally, I agree with the sentiment that it's become more of a spectacle than a very solemn, sacred, civic duty that it should be or at least was intended. That's why I'm personally for a national primary where we get on with it in one day- like peeling off a band-aid. Bam! It's done. Nevermind this whole process that seems to have gone on since President Bush won reelection in 2004. At the very least we won't be scoffed at abroad.
So when British talkshow host Alan Titchmarsh rhetorically asked on the trailer for his Super Tuesday show, "Just why do us Brits care so much about the American election and Super Tuesday?" the answer seemed clear to me. It is fascinating, it's become world wide entertainment. But is that what we want? Perhaps a nice boring primary and a civil electoral system would put a dent in CNN ratings and throw many a pundit out on the street. Seems like a fine trade-off to me. Then again, I have a much better time explaining politics at a pub than all the rules of baseball. Bah, let's keep it the way it is then.
Here's to you, Super Tuesday! Keeping the world entertained one BBC broadcast at a time.

The Pepperdine London Program Primary

Thats right, election fever has crossed the Atlantic and hit the cozy abode of 56 Prince's Gate here in London. Our program had a mock primary last night after presentations from representatives of each of the candidates (i.e. people in our program who like said candidates). My classmates spoke for John McCain, Barack Obama, Hillary Clinton, and Ron Paul. Naturally, I presented on behalf of Mitt Romney. The results? A landslide:

Mitt Romney- 19
John McCain- 4
Ron Paul- 2

Hillary Clinton- 12
Barack Obama- 4

So forgive me for a firm pat on the back. Hopefully it's just the first bit of good news coming from Super Tuesday. I'll be writing up my thoughts on Super Tuesday here, on "A Connecticut Yankee In:" and possibly as an article for the Post. Stay tuned and happy voting!

The Anatomy of a Trip

The general idea when one studies abroad is to go and see as much as you possibly can now, because you never know if you'll ever be back. Many kids here in the program go for broke, spending all the savings they have amassed from work or, if they're lucky enough, whatever their parents give them. For those of us who have to work for every cent we spend on travel, lodging, food, etc. this can limit our reserves, but one learns the tricks to saving money abroad. Nothing will ever be cheap, but there are deals out there to save money. SideStep.com is a personal holy grail for cheap flights and Ryan Air is widely regarded as the rock bottom airline option. Granted I'm relatively sure from my trip to Ireland that the plane is held together by duct tape, but thats besides the point. Still there are many lessons I have already learned from my travel pursuits. Take my recent consternations for booking a trip to Wales and Liverpool this weekend as an example:
Between the trips I have booked, our day trips as a group that require me to stay here for weekends, our move to Greece in March, and weekends before finals I have blocked off for studying, there are few holes left in my schedule left to explore. Plus I've been bleeding all my cash with the conversion rate, so i was looking for something inexpensive and close. Then I remembered one of my bosses from my summer job in the Fairfield Probate Court has a sister in law who lives in Wales. A few e-mails later and I secured myself lodging for Thursday and Friday of the weekend. But seeing as their was little time left in my stay in Britannia, I began to think what else I wanted to see before I left. I definitely want to see Scotland, but tickets there can be pricey on train or plane and my options for staying there would be limited. I do have an Aunt who is from England and her father lives in Glasgow in Scotland, which is a possibility, but getting there would be expensive. And then there's the absolute must I have to do while here on the Isle: Liverpool. In case you didn't know, I'm a die-hard Beatles fan and Liverpool is the equivalent of a personal Mecca. Strawberry Fields, Penny Lane... all that. It was much more cost-effective to stay in Wales and head to Liverpool afterwards then for Scotland, so that decided that option.
Next I needed to figure out how to make the logistics of Wales/Liverpool work in a logical and relatively inexpensive manner. I investigated trying to leave Wales early Sunday and trying to squeeze Liverpool into a day and leaving for London at night, but it just couldn't justify the ticket price for the amount of time I'd be there. It worked out to being something like only 4 hours of time in Liverpool, all to just avoid spending a night in Liverpool. So then I began the hostel search, and much to my chagrin... nothing. The least expensive option was paying 22 pounds per bed for a private triple, which would be a decent deal if I had two companions but alas I'm keeping this weekend personal. After nearly resigning myself to that fate, I got some helpful advice from others in my program to check bed and breakfasts as well as hostels. The results? Success. 20 pounds for a single room for the night. Perfect, thats all I need, a roof over my head for a night. Worst case I was going to try the train station, and I'm sure that will happen at some point but its never good to plan on it.
Then there was the hassle of landing the train tickets. The web sites kept rejecting my credit card because I can't format my billing address correctly (it's designed for a UK address) so I had to do it over the phone. Well, that was until my pre-paid phone ran out of minutes in the middle of my transaction. Oy. So after topping up my phone, I was able to get back on the horn with one of the train companies and get my first leg of the trip down from London to Wales. A different provider would handle the Wales to Liverpool connection, but when I called them, they had just closed. Can you see how frustrating this can become?
I think the most important thing is that I have these opportunities and even though I worked to be able to afford what I have, its still a tremendous privilege to be where I am today. To even be fretting over pre-paid phones and travel fares seems petty to a lot, so I am certainly counting my blessings. Hopefully though after some decent rest (I only had three and a half hours of sleep last night after the Super Bowl and before my 8:30 class) I can tie up these loose strings and plan on an enjoyable trip. After all, I never know if I'll be back here lucky enough to worry again.