Stuff Londoners Fancy: Being in a Hurry

Good morning! Thanks for all of your well wishes for Daniel's man flu- he is on the mend, at work, and even took out both the recycling AND trash last night, without even being asked (he does this quite often, might I add. But just the fact that he did it while battling the man flu is truly something to brag about)! 

 Not much else is happening with us in London, which means I will add a new addition to Stuff Londoners Fancy.

Being in a Hurry

When approaching a tube station, you would think that the underground only arrives once every 20 minutes. People are pushing others out of the way so that they can press their Oyster travel card on the yellow card reader before anyone else. And if it's your turn, and you don't have your Oyster card ready? You WILL be tsked at. Or possibly bludgeoned . 

Once through the line, people are halfway jogging down the escalator. You better stand to the right, if you are one of those deranged people not running to get on the train, or someone will huff at you to "MOVE OVER!" so that they can run down the escalator. Seriously, nothing quite screams "tourist" like someone standing on the left side of the escalator step, or, GASP, sharing a step with a friend. 

And if you hear the train approaching? Watch out. No, really. You will think people are being chased by a heard of brain-eating zombies to make it on the train.One time a man sprinted around the corner because he heard the train, RAN INTO ME chest first as I was getting off the train, and skidded about 10 feet before flopping on the hard, cold, dirty tile. I didn't know if I should help him or chew him out. I just walked away, pretending that nothing happened. 

With this being observed, you would think that the tube must not come very often. Wrong. Most trains comes about once a minute. These hurried people cannot let 60 seconds of their day go unaccounted for, so instead of just peacefully waiting for an extra minute, they risk falling down escalators, running in to strangers, or tripping into the gap. 

These signs are not a joke. They are scattered all around the stations: 

Truthfully, I always have to keep this hurried state of mind in check. When I catch myself walking so fast that I might as well be running, just to go to the store, I have to consciously tell myself to stop and slow down. I find when Daniel and I are together, it's like we try to one up each other with how quickly we can walk, passing up slow pokes, dodging stopped people. But why? Why are we so hurried? Why is it so bad to reach your destination 3 minutes later? What will possibly be missed in that short amount of time? Truly, being hurried is no way to live. But nevertheless, it is something Londoners seem to fancy very much. 

Stuff Londoners Fancy: Awkwardly Transparent Leggings

Awkwardly Transparent Leggings

It's been awhile since I've added an instalment to Stuff Londoners Fancy. This one I have noticed since nearly day one, and it has caused me to scratch my head in confusion. 

Ladies here love wearing leggings as pants, and said pants are 98% of the time awkwardly transparent. I call it awkward, because I don't know how to respond to it. I question if the ladies are aware that everyone can see their leopard print, bikini cut undies underneath or if it is some type of fashion statement? Because seriously, if they looked in a mirror, it would be nearly impossible to not see the panties through the leggings. But then again, lighting has a lot to do with it. And you have to bend in front of the mirror at different angles to make sure your leggings are in the clear. And if it was some sort of statement, why would they pick underwear that have a hole on the right butt cheek? 

So, I spend way too much time goggling at these ladies with their underwear on display, wondering if I should let them know that everyone can see the print, cut, and material of their panties or if I should just ignore it. Because if my pants were transparent, I'd want someone (even a stranger!) to notify me. But then I fear that I will nicely inform these gal's about their wardrobe malfunction, and they'll be like "Uh yah, I know! It's the look I was going for!" And then I'll look behind the times and sooooo unfashionable. 

The absolute worst of this is in yoga. In yoga, your butt is really on display, therefore you NEED to not wear leggings from the clearance section of H&M (unless, of course, you want people to see your panties? Again, I really don't know if these ladies want their underwear to be seen or not). With every down dog, forward bend, and crow pose, the underwear make more and more of an appearance through the cheap leggings. This, I'm guessing, is why there are so many more male yogi participants here. And this is also why I wear $100 yoga pants (although we now know that even those can be transparent!). 

I am not making this up, but one time, a kooky lady didn't wear leggings...but pantyhose to yoga, with nothing over the pantyhose to hide her panties. It was so awkward and I really didn't know how to respond. Yes, she was wearing sheer black pantyhose (with footies and everything- the kind you buy at Walgreens) with a T-shirt over it, tied with a scrunchie at the waist to ensure that her undies were in no way being hidden. It was so awkward. She was wearing white granny panties underneath the hose. I felt so uncomfortable. Because surely. SURELY. She knew that everyone could see her panties. And surely she knew that pantyhose are never, ever meant to be worn as pants. And no, Lady Gaga was not in my yoga class. Honestly, now that I think about it, I wonder if it was some sort of statement to all of the other ladies that wear awkwardly transparent leggings? Like, "This is what you look like! Stop this madness!" To me, that makes more sense than her just wearing pantyhose to yoga because she liked the control top and airflow. 

With all this being said, I'm just glad these ladies are at least wearing underwear with their awkwardly transparent leggings. I couldn't even handle it otherwise. 

Stuff Londoners Fancy: Not Being British

Not being British

Before coming to London for the first time, most people have this idea in their heads that everyone wears tweed, has spent significant time in a countryside cottage, and has a British accent. As soon as you get on the tube for the first time and realize you don't even recognize what language the majority of people are speaking, you realize that this isn't the case.

Londoners really fancy not being British. They are French, Afgani, Canadian, Australian. Expats from America, au pairs from Germany, tourists from Japan, students from Pakistan. I am actually surprised when I hear someone with a British accent. Likewise, because so many people here are actually English Language Learners, Londoners are usually shocked when I tell them my accent is not British, but Texan (y'all!).

Most Brits, it seems, don't even live in the actual city of London, but in the 'burbs or villages on the outskirts of the big city.

Weirdly, this was something very disappointing to me at first, but now I love how big of a melting pot London actually is!

Stuff Londoners Fancy: Visiting Florida

Visiting Florida

While at the gym the other day, I overheard a trainer doing, well, what trainers are notorious for doing: chitchatting with their client instead of makin' them work. He was telling his client all about how he is saving his money to go visit America for the first time. Before his client even asked him where in America he wanted to visit, I knew what the answer would be: Florida.

You see, Londoners really fancy this notion of visiting Florida. I think it's partly because of the sunlight, partly because it's on the east coast (and therefore easier to get to than, say, San Diego), but mostly it's because of Disney World. 

Now, I know this will be considered blasphemy from Daniel's family, but really....these Londoners live close to SO many cool cities to explore, not to mention a Disney Land in Paris...but instead, want to spend what will at LEAST total to 3K to go sweat their a$$ off while waiting in line over an hour behind a child crying because their mom wouldn't buy them one of those overpriced lollipops, only for a ride that will either give them a headache or make them sing an annoying chorus to a stupid song over and over and over again in their head for the next 5 days? Now, I love Disney World as much as the next person does (really!) but I'm not sure if I would go there if it was a 9 hour, one thousand dollar flight! Why not spend that money to go explore the Great Wall of China? Take an African safari (no, I'm not referring to the one in the Animal Kingdom)?  Really? Disney World?!?

You ask any Londoner where in the USA they have been to or want to go to, and 9 times out of 10, it's Florida. Lake Buena Vista, Florida. 

So, feel good about your travels, friends. Because almost all of you have travelled to what is ALLLLLL the rage in London to visit. 

Stuff Londoners Fancy: Day Drinking

Day Drinking

Want to no longer feel guilty about your drinking habits? Come to London. Londoners love drinking, specifically day drinking (and I'm talking 7 days a week, not just on the random Sunday Funday).  

Why is there a shelf full of these cups in London? Because NOBODY could buy one and honestly use it. As least Londoners don't lie. And I mean, really...SHOULD someone proudly display the fact that no gin was allowed in their coffee cup? Now that I think about it, that mug is awesome and I totally regret not buying it. 

I initially noticed this phenomenon on my first walk to the yoga studio. At 10 on a Tuesday morning. I pass a few pubs, and I was surprised to see that every single pub had patrons sitting outside, drinking beer. And not hobo looking people- I'm talking distinguished, older men, wearing nice hats and with a cane. One of them might have even been wearing a monocle.

So, I walk past these old Londoners drinking at 10 in the morning, and you know what? I pass them again coming back from yoga at noon. And then at 3, when I had to go to the store? I pass them yet again! Still drinking their day away! Some of them are playing cards, some are with their dog, some are by themselves, reading a book, but they are ALL drinking massive amounts of booze.

The nonworking crowd isn't the only one that likes to drink all day long. You pass a city pub around 11 am, and the tables are FULL of suit-wearing men and women, knocking down as many pints as they can manage in their 1 hour lunch break. Pass that pub again after work, and they are still full! Sure, those people took a few hours break, but you better believe that they continue where they left off come 5 pm. And they stay out all night, even though it might be a Wednesday and they'll have to show up at work with a hangover!

Now that I have been here for over 6 months, I can say with confidence that day drinking on a weekday is a very normal occurrence that Londoners fancy very, very much (don't worry, not me! I won't drink until after I've had my second meal of the day, and only if it's the weekend. On weekdays, it's only with dinner. Even this Texas girl has standards, people.).

Stuff Londoners Fancy: Complaining About the Weather

For hopefully the remainder of our stint here in London (or whenever I have nothing else to blog about), I am going to have a series of posts dedicated to the things that Londoners fancy. I hope it gives you a better view of London, gives me an opportunity to vent, and produces some chuckles along the way! 

So, with that being said, I present to you......

Complaining Daily About The Weather

If there's one thing all Londoners fancy, it's complaining about the weather. It doesn't matter if it is truly dreadful outside (diagonal rain, freezing winds, not a hint of sunlight) or if it is actually a bit pleasant (50 degrees, warm sunlight, dry), Londoners will be complaining, nevertheless.

Before moving to London, I was terrified of the weather. Then, when we arrived, it was a high of 80 degrees, with 14 hours of sunlight daily. People warned me the weather would get worse. I bought a puffy jacket, hats, gloves, umbrellas, rain boots, thermal underwear, and you know what? It still isn't that bad. 

The other day, I was at the butcher shop. My butcher asked me how I was, and I said I was just enjoying this beautiful weather (I'm happy as long as it isn't raining!). It was like the whole shop came to a screeching halt. The butcher looked at me wide eyed, mouth agape, knife still in hand, mid chop of my steaks. The checkout boy stopped counting my money and just stared at me in utter confusion. Finally, after 10 seconds of silence, the butcher yelled, "Wha?!?! It's terrible outside! Terrible! It's bloody freezing! You must be out of your mind!"

For the record, I didn't even need to wear a jacket that day. The sun was shining. And the weather was warmer in London than in Houston that day. 

I keep waiting for the weather to get worse. And maybe it will. But for now, I am sticking to my claim. Londoners fancy complaining about the weather. Even when it ain't that bad.