Lost in translation

I spent yesterday as a bookworm in the Reading libraries. Some of these libraries can be massive and hold books on several floors, whilst others are simple one room, one floor (much like the Lehighton, PA) libraries. Anywhere I can curl up in a good book makes me happy. Intrigued by the book on the shelf titled, "Spelling, it's not that complicated", I lift it off the shelf and page through. As many of my readers or friends know, I'm much like Lois Lane in the sense that I can write but am most certainly the world's most horrible speller. Paging through this book, I learned a few things.

One, that the book was comparing the English American language with the British language. I've learned a few new things but mostly I've learned that you can spell a word wee bit differently and it can still be "right".

For example, Brits add a "U" to words, where American's drop it. ie: colour v. color
both are correct.

Brits replace 'z' with 's' as in organised. American = organized

Think my finger sneezed across the keyboard and added another letter? Nope. It's OK for Brit's to spell travelling with 2 'l's whilst American's use the work traveling. Both are correct. Since I just mentioned another word above let's talk about that one: whilst or while. How about we just plain use the word "during"? and forget about it...I could go on and on but this could get boring so my next topic is how the language is vocalized (should I put "s" in that word? dear me).

Whilst I was in Cambridgeshire, it became verra clear that the pronunciation of the letter "h" was omitted. For instance, the woman who brought my breakfast said " 'ere you go and 'ave at it". Same when my little cousin likes to put on his "English" accent and say " 'allo Gov'na". He's too cute.

Here in Berkshire, they pronounce their vowels differently and put emphasis on different syllables. Prime example is they way they say their county name. Pronounced "Barkshire" like a dog bark instead of Berkshire emphasis on the ERRRRRR part (-;

The Thames River? omit the h sound, change the vowel sound and you've gotten it. It sounds almost like The Tim's River until your done.

Other fun words, schedule and leisure:

Schedule- American's will say it as if it has a k in it. skedule but the brits say shes-ule (I also want to know why schedule is pronounced this way but school is not pronounced Shuul-wouldn't that make sense to go along with "Shes-ule" :P )

Leisure centre /center(also er and re are switched between the two languages)- a leisure centre is a YMCA or gym. Americans will say it like seizure leisure; and Brits will say it like measure leisure. So there are just a few things to play around with next time you want to work on your accent. Have fun Josiah (-;

Insane trip to Bath

In olden days, the days of Jane Austin, women made trips to Bath Spa to relax and heal. My trip to Bath Spa was of the most stressful, insane trips yet in the UK. But I’m getting ahead of myself in this story. This story begins on a Friday morning when an old co-worker of mine asked me to accompany him to the town of Newbury. I had plenty on my plate (job applications, meetings to set up and errands to run), but he insisted that it wouldn’t take all day, it would be a nice trip and he'd take me to lunch. I like food, so I agreed.

Newbury. Wonderful little town with a genuine English village feel to it. I’ve been to this town before but never spent the entire day trudging around in it. My co-worker went off to an interview once we hit Newbury and I wandered around in circles. What else am I to do? I have a bus ticket and fifteen pounds in my pocket as I thought we were just lunching. After his interview, we’re off to dinner (another Wetherspoon’s of course. We usually go there or Nando’s when he invites me out for dinner). He orders something for me and so I’ll be surprised to see what it is when the food arrives (in pubs you order food & pay at the bar, not sitting at the table). He also brings back a pint. This goes over verra well since I haven’t eaten anything yet. But after dinner I’m feeling good and this dude drags me out to some ancient ruin called Donnington Castle.

So we walk in the twilight to the ruins of what use to be a castle- now a crumpled tower, but argh I’ve no camera because I didn’t think to bring one on his “quick trip”. The castle is pretty cool even if I can barely see it because it’s dark outside. It was originally built in 1380s then awarded to Sir John Boys by The Black Prince after the civil war. (Here leads to confusion, because I thought Edward was the Black Prince and according to the stone tablet at the castle, the fortress was given by the Black Prince, but other history will tell you King Charles I took hold of the castle and gave it to Sir John).

Ready to head back home I trudge back towards the town of Newbury, but he wants to go out drinking and not before we stop at a store for what? Heck if I know, but then my co-worker says he wants to buy me a blouse. Oh boy… so he comes out with a school girl’s uniform top. I think he’s joking, he is not. *slaps forehead* Too make a long story short, he’s gets drunk and I’m babysitter. We go from one pub to the next and return to the original pub we were in for dinner, only now he orders beer, hot chocolate and pancakes…what a combo! No doubt the medications he’s on only added to the chaos pint after pint. I’ve had enough fun on our little trip and would just like to get back to my own “To do” list. It’s now about 8pm and I’ve accomplished nothing with my day. He refuses to go home and I’ve also missed my bus with no hope of catching another one especially with only five pounds in my pocket. He says it’s ok, we’ll take the train and he will buy my ticket for inconvenience, so we burn some time waiting for the train (which isn't expected for 2 hours) by going to the movies. I drag Drunken Mess off to see The Twilight Saga: Breaking Dawn. I must admit he’s a trooper through this movie because even I thought it was horrible. Still waiting for a plot? Me too. The most positive thing I can say about the movie is that Bell’s wedding gown is nice-simple yet elegant. So anyway, the movie is over and it’s half past ten. Shall we get on the train and head home? Yes. But this dude has other ideas and wants to run away from home and in doing so drags me along with him. I missed the train stop for Reading and so now the next stop is where?!?!? Bath. *Smacks forehead* DOH!

With little cash and nothing but the sweater on my back (not even a toothbrush), he wants to take a surprise trip to Bath! Stop the insanity! Bath is a fine place to travel to I’m sure, but not at two o’clock in the morning. Sheesh! The last train of the night arrives in Bath and dumps us off into the empty streets. Next we try to find a hotel room in which to crash. Five of the hotels in the town centre are booked full and Dude is wandering around an unfamiliar town asking anyone he can find, directions (*Note: the only people out on the streets at one thirty in the morning are the drunks-how reliable are their directions??? BRILLIANT.) After an hour or two of wandering the vacant streets of Bath trying to locate a hotel, we locate a youth hostel with a room (bless his heart, this guy still thinks I’m a youth) but atlas, we cannot stay there. Next we stroll over to the only thing open at this time of the night- McDonalds - where all the drunks flock to like moths to an open flame. I was not verra excited to be in or near this charade. This old gal wanted nothing more than a nice warm bed to sleep in and to stop wandering the empty, frigid streets of Bath. One drunken man tried crossing the street when all of a sudden a car horn blasts and his friends pull him back on to the curb saving him from being run over. I hear the drunken man remark, “I thought we were in Europe.”

“We are in Europe,” reply his friends.

“No. The other Europe. Where the cars come from the left side of the street. Not the bloody UK.” The drunk retorts.

I did all but pee myself listening to this madness. At almost three o’clock in the morning, we locate a hotel outside the town centre and bless her heart, the receptionist gives us a room extension so we can sleep in and not have to check out until one p.m. This old girl *not happy at all* just wants a hot shower and to fall into bed.

The next morning, aka. Saturday noon; drag on the same clothes I wore from yesterday. Ew, I know. What a fun surprising trip this has turned out to be! *Loaded sarcasm* Well at least I’m showered right? My old co-worker says it’s like backpacking and only sometimes you need clean underpants and socks the rest will be fine. I beg to differ. Since I’m in such a pleasant mood, he wants to continue the insanity by touring Bath in the sunlight this time (or overcast skies as this is England). He orders me another surprise lunch at Nando’s  this time. Nando’s (Portuguese food from an African franchise) is a pretty cool place you should try it if you’re given the opportunity. He also wants to continue this madness into Bristol. Sure, why not? I’ll just wear the same clothes until they can stand on their own…

He also wants to hop into one of the spa pools but again poor planning leads to no swimming gear. Too bad because that would’ve been awesome but we settle for a tour of the old Roman bath pools instead. The line is soooo long it takes an hour to get to the end so instead I wander into the Bath Abbey. This place an architectural wonder (as I over use the word in all my blogs) and we stay for a Christmas carol service which is really cool especially when the little choir boy stood up and sang his solo. They do this every year so if you’re in Bath around Christmas, check it out sometime. They also have a Christmas street market complete with Christmas carolers on the sidewalk. But if that’s not enough for you (as is the case with this bloke) take a stroll away from all the Christmas chaos and head toward the river. It is here I lost him somewhere in the city. I tried calling his cell but he’s not the most responsible and forgets to charge his phone so it’s dead and not ringing. This reminds me of the time I was abandoned in London and déjà vu kicks in but I’m calm and go about sightseeing. There is a man in the street entertaining onlookers by juggling swords in the air and people playing in a nearby fountain.

It grows colder and gets darker so I head back to the train station to end this crazy weekend. My co-worker catches up with me nearby and I talk him out of the insanity of Bristol when he insists on buying new clothes and makes yet another trip to another department store- (I think I’ve been in almost every Waitrose and Sainsbury’s in Reading AND Bath now). We hop on the train to Reading and head home finally. I lose him once again at the Reading station (this boy is slipperier than a greased pig) and head home. Relieved that I’m back, I can conclude this craziness with a nice, hot, relaxing bath. And what better way to end a trip to Bath than with a bath?

Cambridge

Cambridge University the rival school to Oxford University (thank goodness I didn’t wear my “Oxford” sweatshirt here). In my own comparison, I found the schools to be verra similiar but each with their own charm. Everything in Oxford is walkable or easily accessed by bicycle. They basically close down the college to vehicles. Cambridge allows for more traffic and has a fair share of buses. Although, Cambridge has bikers and walkers also. Cambridge U is made up of several colleges and the schools are magnificent. Most allow you to tour them as long as you don’t interrupt studies, it is after all a school. Cambridge is the university where Charles Darwin was a scholar. Talk about Uberslacker, his father sent him to be a clergyman and he partied his arse off at school then became a world renowned scientist. :-P

Trinity College and Chapel are free to tour, but St. John’s College asks for a small fee. King’s College is beautiful and centrally located and near the street shops (aka. Lion Yard) along with Corpus Christi College and the Sedgwick Museum (also free). On the corner of Benet and King Street is a sight to see. A large clock, the Corpus Grasshopper clock, has a 24-carat gold dial with a beastly grasshopper on it. They call it the “Chronophage” or Time-eater. It’s unique in that it has no hands or digital readings. Instead there are LED lights cut into the face of the clock running rapidly along the clock to show the correct hour, min, sec. It is said to last for two centuries (if the world lives that long).

The lawns in Cambridge are nice big greens where kids gather to study, play, relax and teach their dogs to fetch, etc. There is a little round church before you reach the river in Cambridge and several other sights to see. The river adds to the effect of the many rumored “ghosts” of Cambridge by emitting a great fog in the early mornings. There are ghost tours of Cambridge for ye tourists, if ye are into that kind of stuff.

Kettle Yard I thought would be an interesting little side trip off the main street. It hosts an old church, and art studio. I like to think of myself as an artist or at least at one point in my life I had sketched and painted. The stuff they packed into Kettle Yard studio had me puzzled. The art collection was all about stripes and line contours. Meaning, all the paintings were of LINES….and I was supposed to see what was exciting about a bunch of works on the wall with stripes running vertically??? I just didn’t get it. It’s not even as though if you stare at them long enough something jumps out at you like in those mesmerizing puzzles called “can you see the picture?” For the record I’ve never really been good at those puzzles.

The colleges on their own are something to be seen with many years of fine architecture and history to be had. Let’s not forget of course, the food. If you starve in Cambridge or find yourself unhappy with the food, it’s your own fault. There are plenty of fine restaurants in which to eat here. I tried a place called The Regal. A cinema transformed into a pub. There are pictures inside that show the cinema in it’s prime in the 1930s. Great pub atmosphere with reasonable prices. Cambridge was a great little weekend adventure though, I don't see myself hurrying back to do any studying any time too soon.

St. Ives

As I was going to St. Ives,
I met a man with seven wives.
Every wife had seven sacks,
and every sack had seven cats.
Every cat had seven kits,
Kits, cats, sacks, wives;
How many were going to St. Ives?

This poem made the little town of St. Ives-Cornwall famous. However, I traveled to the "other" St. Ives in Cambridgeshire to see where I began. Our house still stands on the corner of The Waits in the quaint little town of St. Ives some 30 years later. The local butcher shop has closed and a Waitrose has moved in near the library. The fish and chip shops were replaced by Thai restaurants and mum's favorite little bakery has been closed for years but they still hold street markets in the town square on a Saturday. The canal across from the house is still there (who would move that??) and mum, you are not going crazy; the wooden area is still there west of the house behind the St. Ives Parish via the Great Ouse River foot path (aka. the "canal"). The old church bells still toll on the hour and you can hear it whilst walking through the thicket. Sheep are grazing along the canal in pastures green. And the swans still attack humans when they think they may be harboring food, (while I am sure it is the not the same swan that my mum used to shoo away, I'm quite sure it's a direct descendant with it's own vendetta). The weather was unusually bright and sunny- no fog or rain on this trip much to my mother's dismay. Visited the Norris museum while I was in town. It's a tiny little place, but with much history at your finger tips. All and all it was a great little adventure to see where I started out in life. Cheers Mum and Da for sharing!

The "throne" of England

Hitting the head, off to the can, taking a trip to the outhouse, skip to the loo, praying to the porcelain god, powdering your nose in the powder room, using the john, latrine (these last two remind me of the jokes from the movie ROBIN HOOD: MEN IN TIGHTS- use to be shit house...), commode, privy, lav or lavatory, restroom, washroom, bathroom, or whatever your name for it might be; all toilets are pretty much the same.

Let me curb your curiosity about English toilets. Writing this only because I've run out of other crap to tell you about. (A ha ha ha...get it? the pun?) Wow these blogs are really going down the....okay, enough with the potty jokes.

One of my first impressions of British toilets when I arrived was the fact that toilet paper is dispensed in small flat sheets like tissues (2-ply) instead of rolls. Understand that it also comes in rolls, but to see it shaped like tissues was a first for me. Also, I do not mean to complain. I'm very thankful they have T.P. here. When I was in Argentina, I learned the veterinary school in the poorer part the country didn't have t.p. and was thought to be a luxury not a necessity. I beg to differ. Regardless I was not about to wipe anything with old newspaper which was offered either.

Second impression, (was yet another public place and people wonder why it is I fear using the ladies' room in public), was amazement. For they charge you to drop your drawers. No lies, it costs some 30p (30 pence/or 40 cents) to enter the lavatory in the train station. But that's all inclusive of hand washing and super hot-burn -the - flesh- off - your - hands- air drying machine as well.

They charge you for the bottle of water to drink and then charge you to "recycle" it. Seriously what has this world come to? If after all of this, you are considering suicide in the bathroom by electrocution,  you can't. Because most bathrooms don't have any outlets in them to plug in a hair dryer or toaster to throw into the tub! It is with that morbid thought I bid you good day.

London: Celebrating my 2nd birthday in the UK

To my viewers who were unaware, I was born in the United Kingdom, England to be specific. I've always wanted to revisit my birthplace and well, now here I am. I celebrated my "2nd" birthday in the city of London this year. The trip to London included all your tourist attractions minus the changing of the guards (I keep turning up at the wrong castle at the wrong time for this- for those of you who didn't know {me included} the changing of the guard happens on even days at Windsor castle and odd days in Buckingham Palace).

Buckingham Palace- I learned a few things here. Firstly, this does not house the royal family. The queen lives in Windsor and the Princes live in the Clarence House (the house in which the beloved Princess Diana lived). Not that I am any particular judge of castles, but I found Buckingham to be rather small.

No trip is complete without a trip to Times Square (in England they call their's Piccadilly Square). It is here that I viewed some really unique fountains and watched as traffic spun roundabout in the wrong direction (still getting use to the fact that my fellow countrymen drive on the "wrong" side of the road). Lucked out as well here, they were having a real posh car show featuring...my favorite....MINI COOPERS!!! And whilst I did not get one for my birthday (sadness) I did get to stand next to a sporty one. To be honest, I couldn't choose between the black and white one or the blue and white....decisions, decisions.


After taking a lovely stroll through the park and watching the geese attack picnickers, I make my way to The house of Parliment and my favorite, Big Ben. Which I learned had a clock face made in Reading (the town I currently live in). Cool. Off to the London Eye, which reminds me of a gia-normous ferris wheel you can ride to the top to see the whole of London (I believe there is a scene from Fantasic Four 2 with the London Eye in it...Oh Chris Evans is hot hot hot! wait off topic...)

...what was I saying?? Oh right Parliament...(boring stuffy old rulers) anyway cross the river over Tower Bridge which is not to be confused with London bridge which is way smaller and rumor has it, was sold to an American in Arizona; (he thought he bought the big bridge and ended up with London Bridge, poor old sot). Still thinking of Chris Evans......*shakes head*

Oh right, over the river to the traitor's gate of London Tower. Now the gate is boarded up but it is said to have been the route in which they would take traitors such as the infamous Ann Boleyn (one of King Henry's wives). They were held in London Tower until their hearing and beheaded-ness. I believe that they even put those heads (such as William Wallace aka Braveheart) on stakes around the gate. How's that for a bedtime story?

Avoiding the protesters at St. Paul's Cathedral, I walked around Westminster Abby instead. There is so much wonderful architecture in these alt cites. Let's not forget the amazing artwork, statues erected in memory of the greats and those entertaining street actors. London is definitely a place to be seen.

Next time I'm in London...it's off to THE Library, probably never to be seen or heard from again, lost in all it's wonderment. I'm such a book nerd. Or perhaps the British museum??

Fish pedicure

Ever wanted to be considered bait? Well now here is your chance. If you can stand giggling whilst being tickled by the tiny Garra Rufa fish commonly know as the "doctor fish" a toothless carp eating away at the flesh of your feet, then this is for you. Although it has been banned in the States due to fear of spreading diseases, it is all the rage here in the UK. Is it costly? Yes. Do the fish eat you alive? No. They nibble at the dead skin in and between your toes and on your feet. Hardly what I call a piranha but probably his cousin, still...

I thought I was dreaming until I saw it whilst I was shopping at the mall yesterday. It's a trade stand in the middle of the mall like all those others you find trying to sell you phone covers, sunglasses, dead sea salts or some other smelly oil, lotion, etc. you don't need.

Don't believe me yet?

See it for yourself,http://www.dailymail.co.uk/health/article-2050342/Fish-pedicures-foot-spas-spread-HIV-hepatitis-C.html

Ewwwwww...

Planes, trains and automobiles

Attempting to make it to Slough during rush hour morning traffic for an important meeting is an adventure on it's own. First, I get lost in the train station. Then, I hop on the wrong train going to London. I get lucky enough to jump off at Maidenhead with enough time to catch the next train to Slough (which I refer to as the armpit of England) to make it to my meeting promptly. Upon arriving at the train station, I hail a taxi with a foreign driver (just like in New York City- wonders about some secret taxi service conspiracy). Can't complain I did make it to my meeting intact and with 30 minutes to spare! Tune in next time when I finally figure out how public transport works...