The War on Climate Change

Today’s forecast: Mainly unpredictable with a 50% chance of uncertainty.

A few weeks ago there was a huge rally down at Trafalgar Square where they were protesting the overusage of fossil fuels and they had a big march through the streets promoting ways to prevent climate change, and improving nuclear power. But what is the root cause for all of this commotion? "Blame George W Bush," they said. I pretty much got a kick out of the whole thing.

This fall, the southeast of England is having record breaking highs through the late fall/early winter season. We’re getting up to average highs around 14C and the sun shines 5/7 days of the week. Weather on the other side of the Atlantic, however, is not quite so nice. Vancouver’s been boiling their water because of contaminated reservoirs and received over 6 inches of snow in the last week. Calgary is seeing highs around -28C but is expecting the weather to improve with the arrival of a high pressure system (Chinook) passing through the southern Rockies. Through the rest of the southern prairies they are looking at unseasonably low temperatures and Ontario, Quebec and the Maritimes are on watch for severe weather warnings.

That sucks. Which brings us to this week’s Cultural Subject of the Week is (you guessed it):

WEATHER

I’m here in the practically tropical (un)sunny London where it (doesn’t) stay light well into the night and it definitely isn't (definitely is) dark by 4pm had I known it was going to be such a short day, I wouldn't have moved here. (That’s obviously a lie). I’ve gotten a number of emails from friends as well as one from my mom (who is kind of like a friend) and a call from my dad (who is also a friend). They all tell me (which I later confirmed on a government website that it was cold, really cold, really really cold in Calgary...somewhere in the range of 35 to 40C colder than it is in London.

This past weekend, Calgary was expecting highs around -25C, with lows below -30C. Right now it's about 12C in London, so you do the math, that's almost 40C difference.

According to the Government of Canada Almanac, average temperature for this time of year in Calgary is -11C. What this means, is that on any normal year the temperature differential between Calgary and London is (give or take) 20C.

This seems like crazy ramble, but now I’m about to step it up a notch. (A notch, for those who don’t know, is an arbitrary measurement which makes reference to notches on a belt. Thus, the expression “stepping it up a notch” is similar to “taking it to the next level” and is simply a metaphoric way of improving or “making something better” and does not, in actual fact, have anything to do with real belts – which, you may remember, must be matched with your shoes.)

I expect that we can agree that Costa Rica is a tropical country. So, for argument sake, let's use Costa Rica as our tropical temperature median. Today, the high in San Jose, CR is 26C, which is consequently the average temperature for a Costa Rican November day. The difference between a normal temperature in Calgary for November and the actual temperature in CR today is 26+11 = 37C (which rounds up to 40C). What this means is that on an average November day, at any given time Calgary will be 40C colder than Costa Rica.

Where is this going?

As in any properly conducted scientific experiment, there are three variables, the dependent, the independent, and the controlled. For the sake of this scenario, Calgary will be the controlled (constant), the independent will be the ending point, and the dependent will be the temperature differential between normal Calgary and a tropical environment. Today (Tuesday), the difference between London and Calgary is over 40C, so in using Calgary as a constant reference point, using 40C as this case’s dependent temperature and finding a suitable match for this week’s temperature differential.

Therefore, relative to Calgary’s current temperature, London might as well be tropical.

Skewed logic? Probably. But no one ever said the weather made sense.

Hops, barley and multiculturalism

I’ve realized that even though the English may be behind in a few technological aspects, (a) cheap and imported cars, b) soft and pressurized water, and c) that if you keep your pubs open past 11, people will drink more and you will make more money…etc) they actually DO have a few things figured out.

Silly things that make sense: People in England walk on the left side of the sidewalk, but stand on the right side of an escalator; People are courteous enough to let other people disembark the train before they start piling on; Sales tax is included in the price and nobody tips service staff; people (or at least most guys) don’t wash their hands after using the toilet (even though I do); but the brightest thing the English have figured out brings us to this week’s “English Cultural Topic of the Week”:

Food

Britons were just recently put near the top of the list of overweight Europeans, lead only by the Germans and Italians, which means they are definitely doing SOMETHING right!

I would like to affirm (if that’s a word - as in reaffirm, but without the “re”, since it’s the first time it’s been mentioned) that there is no doubt that food here, (although many Brits would disagree) is no better than anywhere else in the world. Fish & Chips, Bangers & Mash, Chicken/Mince Meat/Worcester pie…all deep-fried, unsatisfying, and/or unhealthy. In other words: rubbish. I’ll be so bold as to say that the only good thing to come out of England is beer, and even then, most are just derivatives (or direct imports) of Irish Cream Ales or Belgian Pilsners…those limey bastards. Curry – which was stolen from the Indians – is probably the most creative dish an average English person will have ever learned how to cook , eaten, or let alone heard of.

I’ve taken to eating a certain “Meal Deal A” at a certain “Sam’s Chicken” fast food chain, where you get two fried chicken burgers and two packs for fries (yes, these ones are called fries, not chips) for a great deal. Four out of five days, this is my daily calorie intake. I understand it is unhealthy, but I’m poor; so step off.

It seems that the whole idea of consuming “something” is obesely over-rated (no pun intended), whether it’s food, car fuel (petrol), clothing, or simply bottled water. This week, for the first time in my life, I was actually called 'anti-social' for not being a smoker.

You can get mostly any kind of food here, as long as you want to pay for it. Last week we went for Thai food, which was pretty much spot on, but in the end cost about 20 times as much as it would have for half as much as if we were actually in Thailand.

Things I miss but never thought I would even slightly care about: Ichiban, Kraft dinner, microwave popcorn and Clamato. I suppose it’s the ease that I miss most about these things. Afterall, real tops microwave popcorn 9 times out of 10, but as far as Caesars are concerned, a Caesar isn’t a Caesar without the crisp tang of clam! (If you have no idea what Clamato is, go to Canada and try it mixed with vodka, Tabasco and Worchester, add a pickled green bean or a stick of celery and you’re in the mix!)

I ate at Burger King the other day. Thank you. Thank you very much. But no, that’s not the point. In Canada, a whopper meal (which is absolutely delicious) costs probably around $5-6, depending of course on what side you get and whether you want cheese, or single/double/triple, etc. The point is, here for a single whopper meal (no cheese), you’re looking at no less than 4.50 pounds (that’s over $9.50!). I didn’t think I would EVER in my life pay close to $10 for a fast food burger meal, but as my new motto states: “if it’s not the saturated fat that kills you, the exchange rate sure will!”

For the economists in the crowd, the Big Mac principle definitely applies here in England, but for those who are more interested in flavour, get this: Coca-Cola and McDonalds both taste pretty much the same as they do at home. Officially, there is really no true way to absolutely determine whether they are EXACTLY the same, but I guarantee that if you took a fry from a London McDonalds and flew back to Calgary, ordered fries and then did a taste test, Calgary’s would taste better.
On the flipside, if you then took the fry from Calgary, then came back to London, I guarantee the one from London would taste better. I suppose a nine hour flight will make any fry gross. All in all, if memory serves me correctly, a Big Mac’s a Big Mac, no matter where an immigrant or teenager makes it!

I was asked a number of times this week what Canada’s typical national food would be. Stupidly, I said steak (because I'm from the western prairies), but after more consideration, I suppose the best answer would be maple syrup – even though maple trees only grow in the east.

When it comes down to it, Canadians, just like the British, have pretty much perfected the multicultural thing, and in so doing, have done something most other countries haven’t been able to: eat delicious foods that aren’t our own. But let’s get serious. Who cares what you can create yourself as long as you can get it somewhere else for cheaper?

Cultural Static

“So Kai, what part of America are you from again?”

This post comes sooner than most, but because of technological advances in my flat, we’re back in business, baby! Also, some pretty exciting things happened this week.

I got the internet at my flat. And what that means is: CURRENT AMERICAN TV! WOOT!
Lost is freekin amazing (and even though the next episode doesn’t air until Feb 7, I’m still excited.
If you haven’t had the chance to check out HEROES (airs Monday nights on NBC) and/or The Office: An American Workplace (airs Thursdays nights, also on NBC) I recommend you all do it sans excuse.

Updates.

FRIENDS:
The one guy at work (from Egypt born in London) calls me his “accent brother”. What this really means, I’m still uncertain, but apparently he lived in America for a while and now just figures he sounds the part. I’ll admit, we ARE the people in the office who pronounce their Rs correctly, but when it really comes down to it, we’re just accent friends because we’re the only ones who don’t sound English, South or regular African or ESL. I think it’s kind of lame, but when it comes down to it I’ll take and make friends in pretty much any way possible.

ROUTINE:
Speaking of routine (which for the record is fine with me), everyone in the office has what they call “crews” and every Wednesday they have a “crew night”. Tonight we went bowling. And I absolutely put on a show – as usual. I bowled a pretty mediocre game in my books, but the fact that they all make more money than I do didn’t bother me after I wrecked them in the old 10-pin lane. The English also invented an 11-pin version of bowling too, but we didn’t play, because it’s actually made up and a couple of guys were just pulling my leg. The bowling alley we went to also has an ice rink…so maybe next week I can teach these blokes how to skate!


CULTURE:
Now, in 5 weeks of living in London I have covered a wide range of topics, from activities, sights, sounds and people, but have yet to acknowledge one very important topic. Sooooooooo, in the first of a [yet to be determined number] part series, I proudly present to you Cultural Topic Number One:

FASHION

Before I moved over I thought for sure no matter what I wore, not matter where I went, no matter who I hung out with, I KNEW for sure that I would be underdressed. A few of my friends even warned me with a “Really? You’re taking that shirt?” Well, as it turns out, Londoners idea of fashion isn’t much different than mine. Now, I’ll admit in the business world my one suit may not be the flashiest at the ball, but I can still hold my ground when push comes to shove.

After a great deal of thought, I have decided that even if I really want to fit in, I don’t actually have to change at all.

First, there are probably still a great deal of North Americans visiting for the fall season, because not matter how cold the Britons feel it is, it’s still warm for us Canadians.

Second, many people on the train still don’t realize that skinny ties haven’t been cool since the late 80s, if you’re wearing all black all blacks have to match and that no you cannot wear brown shoes with a black suit…even if it’s pinstriped.

Third, “ug boots”, no matter how short of a skirt you wear, are still not attractive. And no, the emo-trash look isn’t cool just because you have and English accent. Get a job, you hippie punk.

Fourth, if it’s cheap in London, it’s probably not very nice. I realized this when I fell victim to a “clearance sale” where I bought dress shirts for 5pounds. When I got home and took the tags off I didn’t like them anymore…go figure.

And fifth (and most importantly), the term “London High Fashion” is actually code for “wear whatever you want no matter how bad it looks because if you convince enough people wear the ugly style it will eventually become cool and if it’s cool then it will start to pick up in the rest of Europe, it will spread to Asia, and about a year later those damned Americans will start to like it.” So wait, does this mean that if enough Canadians come over to visit, GAP will continue to control the fashion world as we know it? (Even though people here think it looks cheap), the answer is infallibly yes.

I just hope that doesn’t all happen with sleeveless shirts and black leather gloves.


Until next week: Stay fit and have fun!

Next Stop: Normalcy

“Please mind the gap between the train and the platform.”

This will be posted on a different day than it was written. This is due to reasons that will be later explained. I’d like to go on record acknowledging that the save date for this draft is, in fact, the day I promised the next post would be ready for: Wednesday, November 8, 2006.

As my loyal followers (and those who have nothing better to do than be on MSN all day everyday) may have noticed, I have not been on Messenger for almost a week now. Worried? Well, don’t be. I’m sad too. Although, while you’re probably sad because you’re down one friend, I’m sad because I have no idea what is going on outside of London.

Speaking of people coming in to hang out in London (which I realize I hadn’t actually mentioned before that), Mike and Kate (and "the Moose!)(from Calgary) made it over from Tarare, France (where they live) this past weekend in hopes of catching up with some traditional Guy Fawkes (man who, once upon a time, tried to blow up the King of England) festivities.

Instead, we did: a bus tour, a live musical (Mary Poppins), a river boat tour, a walkabout to some pubs I knew, a walkabout to some pubs we just found by chance, a photo session of Buckingham Palace, a carnival in a hard-to-get-to park, and a fireworks show where I reckon we had a pretty excellent weekend! I was really glad to see them come out and invite you call to do the same (although you may be hard-pressed to get me out on another open-roofed bus tour when it’s below 10C!).

Sunday, I moved into a new flat. Rent payments, up until now, have been doing the dishes, mandatory going out for drinks when asked, buying the odd pizza, and keeping the fridge stocked full of a variety of beers and English ciders.
Simple, yeah? I agree. So needless to say, real/money rent hit me like a bag that has been lit on fire and filled with bricks, but then instead of bricks it’s just a big hand that reaches in and takes all of your money… But here’s the situation: I am now living in an area of central London called Euston. I understand that it is officially still in the borough of Camden, but technically in Somerton. What that all means, I still have yet to figure out. I live with a couple (though I have my own room) who are an Australian guy (where I’ll be able to pick up tips for my accent) and a Hungarian girl (who will hopefully one day teach me how to make a mean goulash). So far, they’re cool.

People always talk about getting into a routine, blah blah blah when you get into a job and suddenly everything just becomes custom. You get up, go to work, go home, eat dinner, go to bed, do it all tomorrow. Often, a change of pace is switching from a ham sandwich to turkey, or trying out a Big King rather than a Big Mac (which could lead into me ranting about how crap McDonald’s value menu items are here in London, but that’s another story for another day). And I’ll admit my life, after just one week of working, has become routine.

But get this: Start time: 10.30 – meet up at the office, for a quick meeting, maybe a little bit of recap of yesterday, yada yada… End Time: 9.30 (if we’re lucky). (and you thought you had it bad) By now, you must think that I’m a really hard worker, but when it comes down to it, I’m just average…but you’d do the same if you were on commission. (I still won’t flat out say what my job is on the blog, (maybe because I’m embarrassed) but I’ll let you all guess – that last one was a HUGE hint!) I’ve come to discover that routine can actually be an excellent way to both make AND save money. After all, if you can’t have fun exploring, you might as well have fun working! – or something.


When I moved out, my generous cousin gave me her old TV. Trouble is, it’s either a little bit broken or I’m little bit retarded. I’m hoping it’s the former. Problem: I can only get one station: BBC Two. (And yes, I tried changing the channel…) The way television works here in kind of cool. Non-peasant options for television are plentiful: cable, satellite, digi-cable, etc, but instead of just being able to pick up super fuzzy 4 or 5 channels with your TV antenna (like in Canada) a mandatory charge is paid annually by every home, flat and willing business which gives everyone picture perfect analog cable BBC channels one through four (what they call internal antenna), which gives quality entertainment, news, and sports 24 hours per day/7 days per week. The best part about the BBC (and probably the reason most people get something additional) is that British sitcoms are so great; they make you want to change the channel!

On my first night in the flat, I was told three things: a) that I marginally beat out two others for the room in the flat: an English guy and German girl. I made a joke about how by combining my heritages, you get both of those things… plus Japanese b) pull the handle up to flush, and c) I am probably the first ever Japanese guy to drink Guinness and enjoy it.

Is there any way we could verify that? If true, that would be amazing.

So why haven’t I been able to return your emails, hung out online, or downloaded any new movies, TV shows, or music in the past week? You guessed it! I don’t have the internet. This the fourth full day of living without, and as the minutes pass I become more and more anguished. But we’re scheduled to have it installed by the end of the week, which thankfully means that I’ll once again be able to stay in tune with pop culture. Of course, if this blog is posted before then, I guess I have already found a way…

Turns out, I'm a tourist.

So it has been brought to my attention that general consensus is that once I get a job I won’t be able to come up with enough interesting things to post in my blog every week. Today marks the end of my third week here and so far, so good. Thus, I was challenged. The challenge is that I MUST come up with at least one new post every week (midweek-ish) AND, it can’t be boring…otherwise I have to buy the Challenger dinner. Luckily, this blog is based on NON-day-to-day events, so it doesn’t matter that I’ll soon be routinized. I pretty much talk about anything, as long as it relates to being in London, or some weekend trip that I could do, or someone I saw walking down the street…the point is, I will not disappoint. Plus, I’m not even in my own flat yet…not that I’m bragging, (in fact, that’s more depressing than anything), and once all of the setup stages are done and the partying becomes standard practice, I will continue to prove myself to you, the readers. This is attempt number one:

Do you know those fluffy top hats with the union jack on the front that you always see tourists wearing on TV? (You know: the kind that you would never actually wear in public even if it was given to you as a gift on a dare but secretly want one because it’s so cliché?) Well, I’ll cautiously admit that I secretly want one; although I guess it’s no longer a secret. And I also want an England t-shirt. I’ll probably be able to resist the urge for now, but I can definitely see myself getting one before I move back home for good. I was at Buckingham Palace a couple weeks ago (yes, for the changing of the guards – which on a side note was way better than I expected since everyone really bummed it out before I went) and all I saw everywhere I went (in addition to the ceremony) were Italians wearing those hats. This got me thinking. Could this be a new fashion fad that the crazy Italian designers picking up on? Could you imagine Versace English fluffy hats? Dolce & Gabbana Union Jack flags? Giorgio Armani Big Ben logoed blazers? No. I doubt it. “Damn tourists”, I thought. But then it occurred to me: I’M A TOURIST! (Which means I’m technically allowed to buy a hat; and if there’s a will there’s a way!)

My being a tourist REALLY hit me last Saturday, (I know I wasn’t going to talk about day-to-day stuff in this blog, but I need a timeline for my stories, otherwise they’d become unrealistic and could easily be made up) when I went on a quest to find Abbey Road. Yes, the same Abbey Road that the Beatles shot their notorious “Abbey Road” album cover, the same Abbey Road where Abbey Road Studios are, and the same Abbey Road that tourist FLOCK to just to have their picture taken crossing the infamous intersection. I did the same, but due to technical difficulties and me apparently not being able to walk properly I didn’t get a good picture. Plus, it was cloudy…unlike the picture on the album. It’s clear I am not a Beatle.

This morning the scale of my life really hit me. Exactly one year and two days ago I was watching the Rolling Stones in Seattle, WA. One year and three days ago we dressed up for Halloween and made a “shark attack” video on Robson Street in Vancouver after a full day of driving through the Rockies. And the days leading up to that…one year and six days ago I had one of the single-most expensive day of my life – traveling in taxis, buses, airplane - a day where I touched ground in 4 different Central American countries and flew over all of the others – ranging from northwestern Yucatan peninsula in Mexico to Belize City to San Salvador to San Jose, CR all because of one huge bitch they called Hurricane Wilma. Madness, it was. Memories – the kind that would put Cats to shame. And now, just one year later I am once again not in Canada, so that just means there is still hope for the world, I reckon.

I counted my countries the other day. After now being in the UK, I counted 19. My cousin’s flat mate has been to 55, which needless to say, dwarfs me. I definitely look forward to increasing my number, but in my current state of not having expendable income (or ANY income, for that matter), I’ll probably start it up again in winter.

Also, Halloween was yesterday. I celebrated with candy and beer. (I drank the beer and ate the candy.) Kids don’t really DO Halloween here, save for grocery store advertising and drinking-aged costume shop purchases. That being said, I’m close to in Camden Town at the moment, so seeing people in goth uniforms/emo-trash pants (trousers) and/or crazy makeup is not uncommon practice.

Oh, and I got a job. No, I’ve never been so unexcited about accepting a job; no, I don’t see myself being in this place for very long; and if you ask me about the details, no, I won’t tell you. But that’s not the point. Job = Money = better life than having not money.

Better with pictures?

Oh, and Challenger: I accept.