London in Lists

THINGS TO DISCUSS/DEBATE WITH A BRIT OVER AFTERNOON TEA:
1) The London tube vs. The NYC subway
2) The stupidity of American reality television
3) The extraordinary concept that #notallAmericans act like people from the southern states
4) The best way to get anywhere from the nearest train/tube stop
5) Which scone spreading method is superior: Devon (jam, and then cream) or Cornish (cream, and then jam)
6) The various causes of American obesity (pro tip: Nod along with every theory they throw out there, however off-base it may be.)
7) What a Jersey Accent sounds like (optional subtopic: Joe Pesci)
8) Everything wrong with Hershey chocolate

BRITISH SUBURBAN DIFFERENCES THAT ARE BIZARRE AND/OR INTRIGUING:
1) A dirth of laundry dryers means everyone still uses clotheslines [bizarre]
2) "Pickle" is not a single pickle but a spread, "chips" are obviously french fries, "scones" are sweet biscuits, "biscuits" are cookies (but then so are "cookies"), "cakes" are not just for birthdays, and everything yummy tastes "nice." [bizarre and intriguing]
3) Marmite.  [BIZARRE]
4) Meat + Starch + (Pastry) Bread = full, balanced meal [bizarre -- and bowel-bothering]
5) Pristinely-tended lawns, called "gardens" [intriguing]
6) Hidden appliances [intriguing -- and a little exciting]
7) Heated towel racks are a bathroom standard [intriguing and brilliant]
8) Teatime is Everytime [intriguing because YES]

THINGS YOU CAN BUY AT SAINSBURY'S:
1) Packaged breakfast food.
2) Unrefrigerated eggs.
3) Frozen dinners.
4) All the candy.

THINGS YOU *CANNOT* BUY AT SAINSBURY'S:
1) Toothpaste.
2) Good beer.
3) Anything appetizing for dinner.

THINGS JAY HAS SAID IN A BRITISH ACCENT:
1) "It's time for teeeeeeeea!"
2) "I'm a swaaaaaaaan."
3) "Shall we take a turn about the park?"
4) "Shall we start the tea kettle?"
5) "Shall we eat again?"
6) "Is it lunchtime, then?"
7) "Is that a BOOKSTORE?"

PEOPLE WHO HAVE ASKED US WHERE WE'RE FROM AND THE ADVICE THEY'VE BESTOWED ON US:
1) The lady baker who sold us a Cornish pasty // "Brighton?! In March? You're going to freeze."
2) The Brighton barista from whom we requested a *pub* recommendation // "A pub? Go to Murasaki. It's Japanese."
3) The generous tea house owner in Kent, named Fatosh // "Don't bother making money if you don't know how you want to use it."
4) The enthusiastically Greek pharmacy cashier // "If you are going to Bulgaria, then you really must go to Santorini."
5) Two day-drunk Welshies on the Central Line // "You got'eh geh' one a those belt fings... You know, the kind tha'll go 'round yer waist?" ("A money belt?") "Yeah, you got'eh geh' one a them fings." "Otherwise you'll be robbed blind!" "You'll be robbed blind..."
6) The lady behind the Harrods chocolate counter who I hoped might give us a free chocolate sample but didn't // "Have a nice day."

PLACES THAT WON'T BE FEATURED IN YOUR GUIDEBOOK BUT ARE WORTH A GANDER ANYWAY (AND WHY):
1) Holland/Dutch Gardens; Live peacocks freely wander here. Also, less tourists and a giant chess set.
2) The British Library; The potential to completely nerd out over a magnificent collection of literary treasures (first editions, original manuscripts.) From Charles Dickens to Beatrix Potter to John Lennon.
3) The Wallace Collection; Where else will you be allowed to wander freely through an antique-furnished house laden with museum-worthy Rococo art?
4) Fortnam and Mason; Because Harrod's on the weekend will be swamped with other tourists... and because they might let you sample fine whiskey and gin for free.
5) Hatchard's; It's the oldest bookstore in London. It has a windy old staircase and four floors of nicely-arranged books. (Note: There is a couch on the 2nd floor which overlooks Picadilly.)
6) Any collection of trash bins near heavily frequented fast food restaurants in back-alleys around dusk; If that setting doesn't sound sketchy enough to you, wait til you see an URBAN FOX saunter out from behind a pile of rubbish with a bucket of KFC leftovers in tow.

BELONGINGS THAT HAVE GONE TO RUBBISH SO FAR:
1) My travel purse's strap. (Helpful.)
2) Three fingers of my wool-blend gloves. (Who needs warm hands?)
3) A thrice-worn merino wool sweater. (Now child-sized for easy trasport! Thank you, 'Fine Materials' washing machine setting!)
4) The shoulder area of my favorite leather jacket. (Will. Not. Replace.)
5) My capacity to maintain consistent body temperature. (Sweat looks good on you, baby.)

RACHEL'S PLANS FOR A FUTURE, RICHER LIFE:
1) Groceries from Harrod's and the three-story Whole Foods.
2) Afternoon Tea at The Savoy most Wednesdays.
3) A plot of daffodils in Kensington Gardens, reserved for personal frolicing.
4) A writing apartment in Notting Hill (with lots of white space for thoughts) and another in the countryside, of course.
5) Horse Rides through Hyde Park.
6) Vintage fur coats from Portabello Road.
7) Custom-made fedoras and jacket tailoring by various shops in Covent Garden.

BRITISH FOODS WE HAVE SAMPLED (FROM MOST TO LEAST SATISFYING):
1) Afternoon Tea (including tea, scones, sandwiches, & cakes)
2) Full English Breakfast (including toast, sunny-side eggs, cooked mushrooms & tomatoes, sausage, English bacon, and Heinz baked beans)
3) Ploughman's Lunch
4) Lamb & Mint Pie
5) British Beers
6) Crumpets
7) McVitie's Digestive Biscuits
8) Jelly Babies (gummy candy, in case you were wondering)
9) Robinson's Squash (orange-flavored drink)
10) Steak Pasty
11) Hot Cross Bun
12) Marmite on Toast

THINGS WE WILL NOT MISS ABOUT LONDON IN THE SLIGHTEST:
1) Groups of touring preteen French students... EVERYWHERE.
2) People walking blindly into your path (typically because their face is in their cell phone.)
3) The pounds-to-dollar ratio.
4) Overpriced frozen yogurt.
5) The temptation of expensive, delicious-looking pastries around every corner.

THINGS WE WILL MOST CERTAINLY MISS ABOUT LONDON:
1) Widely available cream tea options.
2) Children answering museum tour guides' questions in adorable British accents.
3) Marvelously efficient transit systems.
4) People stopping on the street to help you the second you pull out a map.
5) Weird winding alleyways packed with interesting surprises.
6) Acres of parks with daffodil afflictions.

Brighton: 5000 more

A Brighton Cloudy Day

Figure 1: The famed lemur babies of Brighton Pier.

Visiting Brighton wasn't on our list of to-dos, but I guess my inner Lydia Bennet took the reigns yesterday -- for something compelled me, when Jay suggested taking a day trip out of Kent, to choose the seaside town over Canterbury.

I think I made the right decision.

In all fairness, I haven't got a Canterbury experience to hold up in comparison, but something tells me Jay and I wouldn't have managed to gamble 5 pence into 5 quid in a cathedral.

And that's exactly what happened at Brighton Pier yesterday afternoon.

After taking a bus (yes, red; yes, double-decker) into East Croyden and a train the rest of the way, Jay and I marched straight to the beach from the Brighton station. The English seaside in March hardly inspires swimming, but the setting is nevertheless a sight to behold. Greenish-gray water (which, like Lydia, is somehow charming in spite of itself) crashing over sea-tossed pebbles, practically polished from their tumbly journey ashore... a bizarre, cage-like edifice framing the western sky... an amusement pier to the east, extending out over the water in a gaudy display of flashing lights and rotating metal.

Once we'd exhausted the curious winding lanes of sweet shops, vintage stores, and jewelry boutiques, we passed a few hours in the city's unexpectedly extensive museum. A modest historical costumery, an array of Egyptian mummies, and an exhibit on the seedy history of Brighton itself were a welcome diversion from the chilly outdoors. Tea and cake further fortified us from the cold, and with renewed exhilaration, we made our way out along the pier. "To see the view!" I urged Jay.

[To own the truth, I was interested in seeing if the rides were running. It's a rare moment when tilt-a-whirls, roller coasters, carousels, and ferris wheels fail to seduce me into their seats. I think this partially explains why I find train rides so thrilling.]

As we neared the pier, it became evident that the rides were closed for the season. We continued walking nevertheless and soon found ourselves in a whir of flashing lights, clinking coins, and electronic fairground melody.

Who knew half of Brighton Pier was an arcade tent? Probably everyone.

Let me preface the proceeding confessional with this disclaimer: I am NOT a gambler. I have also never been a fan of arcades. I was the kid at Chuck E. Cheese's who spent her tokens on the rocket ride (the one that made goofy space noises and rose about 6 feet off the ground before descending again) and never collected enough tickets for anything more than a roll of Smarties. I pompously consider myself "above" risk-taking. I even despise the boardgame "Risk."

Jay is a much better sport than I am; he's fun-loving enough to appreciate a good thrill, yet wise enough to walk away from risky business. So of course he was the one to put a 5p coin into the first slot machine he saw - ("It's one pound's worth, Rach. We'll stop when we lose it.") - and of course he was the one to win the machine's jackpot in one go. Five gold coins poured and plinked into the little metal receptacle at our knees. I blinked.

"Jay..." I advised in my best Hermione Granger voice, "That won't happen again. This is where we walk away."

And we did. But then we found the penny pushers.

Anyone who's been to an arcade before should remember this game. There's a narrow chute into which you drop your token, and it leads out over a metal shelf, covered with fallen tokens and pocket prizes. This ledge moves back and forth, pushing out over a second ledge which holds even more tokens. The object is to drop your coin in at just the right instant, so it falls onto the exposed metal of the first ledge, moves the pile of coins onto the second ledge, then nudges the cliffhangers off into the collection chute. 

I immediately smelled a scam.

"Jay, it's probably magnetized. The coins'll stay there longer than physically possible. You'll just lose money."

Still, it only cost tuppence to play, and I was curious.

Flash forward and I'm draped over the top of the machine, my eyes following that temptress of a metal ledge and cuing Jay at just the right moment to drop the coin. We must've looked absurd, one poised with a coin over the intake slot, the other on tiptoe shouting, "Go!....Go!....Go!" with the rhythm of a cuckoo clock.

We started winning breaking even -- enough that we fancied we'd mastered the system. We even wrangled these bizzaro twin lemur figurines in the process. (Fig. 1

Flash forward again and it's like a scene from the Goodfellas finale.

"Jay, Jay -- you gotta lend me another 2p ... this one's pregnant with coinage... I can feel it!!"

I knew I'd gone completely insane when I found a stray US quarter in my pocket and tried that in the slot. (Ha! I will master this British mistress with a talisman of American freedom!) It went through, pushed slightly forward, then flopped into the pile of losing 2p pieces.

Once I'd lost another 2p to the thing, you'd think logic would've taken over. Instead, I did the unthinkable: I opened my own wallet. I had a 10p piece. TO THE COIN MACHINE!!! I played it, I lost it. I played it, I lost it. I played it... I WON BACK 8 PENCE!!  

Now, hold on a second....

As Jay lead me out of the arcade, I caught a stray 2p piece that had fallen into an unattended receptacle. I eased a jammed one out of another coin slot. With the 8p, that brought me back up to my 10p with a 2p profit. (I conveniently chose to disregard the pence I'd borrowed from Jay when calculating my triumph.)

Jay himself walked out of the whole ordeal 4 pounds richer. But then, I like to think I had something to do with his good luck. :)