i have reconnected to my roots - my WASP-y roots, that is

Most people who know me know me as a London enthusiast – I declare my love for this city on a regular basis. Ask me why, though, and my answer will usually be something along the lines of – I don’t know I just do so stop talking. So with this little London vacation I tried to pinpoint why it is that I love this city so much, and what I’ve up with is…a very lengthy post.

• History. Do I really need to elaborate? I’m going to anyway. Let’s not play around – England has a pretty bomb history which you can see just by walking down the street - those little blue landmark circles on the side of buildings that tell you where Sigmund Freud used to live or where Charles Dickens used to hang out. It’s ridiculous – everywhere you go some monarch or writer or great thinker has been before. My favorite is Tudor history – Henry VIII, Anne Boleyn, Mary, Elizabeth. While I was here I bought The Lady Elizabeth by Allison Weir and let me tell you – there is nothing that compares to reading about Elizabeth I and knowing and recognizing the places that are mentioned because FOUR HUNDRED YEARS LATER, they’re still there. This week we went and visited the Tower, and to get to see where Anne Boleyn was beheaded, or where Thomas More and Jane Grey were brought in through Traitor’s Gate- amazing. Yes, I am a dork, and I love every minute of it. It’s just an experience you will not get anywhere else. I love America (well…sort of), but I just don’t think that reading about the Gold Rush while visiting California will give me the same chills. Sorry.
• The accents. And the people who speak them. The following will be a series of personal statements that many will disagree with. People with accents sound smarter. American accents are ugly, especially compared to British accents. I know this because several times when I have been in London I have been told, by Brits, that they hate American accents. And even when I’m being insulted, I don’t really mind because I love listening to their voices. Another example from a situation that happened this week – construction workers and women (in this case the women were me and my friend). American and British construction workers are similar in this situation, but I would much rather hear, “Forget the cab, love, why don’t you call me?” than anything that Manhattan construction workers have offered up in the past two years.
• Skins. This is just one thing, but it is one absolutely fantastic thing. For those who have never seen an episode of Skins (as it is a television show), I pity you. The characters, the dialogue, the music – it just all adds up to perfection. Go do some youtube work.

***I know that Skins is not set in London, it is set in Bristol. However, it is still my favorite.***

• Music. Here is another command – go to iTunes and see what the number one song is in the United States. Last time I checked it was Miley Cyrus’ song, Party in the USA. When I saw this I officially lost all faith in humanity. And this is why my iTunes store is set for the United Kingdom. I’m sorry, but Americans just seem to like horrible music. People in London do not. I’m not saying that I have excellent music taste, but I think that is slightly (more than slightly) better than that of the average American. The live music is also amazing – I’ve seen so many fantastic shows and discovered so many new artists that have become favorites by accidentally showing up at clubs where someone is performing – Florence and the Machine, I am referencing you.
• Food – specifically, TBMs. English food is…not good. Any other type of food IN England? Delicious. Indian and Thai especially, and my meat eating friends also really seem to enjoy all of their roasts and such. I wouldn’t know about that. The number one food love of my life, French fries (or chips if we are in England speak), are also incredibly amazing and cheap (Chicken holds a special place in my heart for its one pound box of chips). And TBMs (tomato basil mozzarella on a baguette) I have not had a sandwich in…three weeks. I not only rediscovered my roots but I rediscovered my love for these wonderful little sandwiches – I think I ate one everyday during my week in London. I do not like cheese, I do not like tomatoes, but gosh those things really get me going. Favorite moment of the week – eating a TBM in Regent’s Park while reading The Lady Elizabeth.
• The London Lite. For those who don’t know what I’im talking about, the London Lite is a daily tabloid/newspaper that they give out for free. And when I say give out I mean shove in your hand – everyday people wearing these bright yellow jackets try to give out as many of these as they can in as little time as possible. There are several other papers that are given out – London News, the Metro – but the London Lite is my favorite and I will tell you why. In one issue, I can see pictures of celebrities absolutely trashed leaving nightclubs that I actually recognize (because – another great thing about London – I am OF AGE!), read about the latest football riot in West Ham, the girl that was attacked on Pentonville Road (coincidentally, the same street that I lived on for four months) learn about the newest nightclubs and bars and what is going on that night – such as the first anniversary of Matter (yesss), how tall people are happier, and finally, I can read about the blind date that the London Lite set up for two Londoners because, well, they are just that nice. Just glorious.

There’s many things I haven’t touched on - perhaps this marathon post will become a two-parter, but I think this is a fine beginning. If it is not obvious, I am an incredible snob and think that a group that I am not and never will be part of is far better than everyone else. Such is life. Even though I will never be able to call myself British, the feeling that I get whenever I am in London is enough to leave me incredibly homesick for the city whenever I’m away from it. Yes, it’s expensive, and yes, they have a reputation for bad teeth. I don’t care. I love London because it makes me feel like a classier version of myself – until I start speaking, that is.