Flying!

I love flying! However, I never flew until my early thirties. While many of my friends flew to popular Brit holiday spots like Spain and Portugal, I never did. So my first flight was with my then girlfriend to Athens, from where we were going to take a catamaran to the island of Spetses,

I was very excited. I loved every part of the flight, even when we hit a little turbulence!



We were due to get to Greece in the evening. I sat near the window, so I could see everything, and I'm glad I did, because as we approached Athens, we banked, and I had a beautiful view of lights up in the mountains. We actually had to walk across the tarmac once we'd landed, and I got my first experience of the Summer heat in Athens.



The arrival at Athens was less thrilling, since there was some mix up about where our party was meant to be going. The plane had arrived a little late and we were not going to be able to move on until the morning. Some of us started sleeping on the floor in the airport, until armed police moved us out! Our tour guide was able to get us to the city center, where we relaxed in the lounge of a hotel.



I have to say I still love flying, even though it's more of a chore these days with the family. Our flights to England are about 7 hours, the planes are not as comfortable, and the services are more limited. When I first started flying to the US, there was plenty of complimentary alcohol. Not so much these days. But for some reason, I still enjoy the turbulence!

I Don't Get Guns, Cowboy

I'm now convinced this is an irreconcilable cultural barrier linked to "The Old West" and other historical events, but I cannot get my head around the American fascination with guns.

Mrs. Adolph Topperwein. [with gun] (LOC)

How ever many times someone says "guns don't kill people, people kill people," I have to say that if that person didn't have a gun in their hand, they probably would not be doing as much damage.



I know there has been a big problem with knife violence in Britain, but I believe there's a fundamental difference between using a knife and a gun. You use a knife, and you actually have to connect with the person you're attacking. Forgive me for putting this image in your head, but you have to feel it going in your victim. With a gun, it's almost like pushing a button - there's no connection. Plus there's all that room for "collateral damage," not to mention gun accidents.



I originally thought the guns/no guns argument was political - that Republicans were pro-gun and Democrats were anti-gun, but that's not entirely true. On a semi-related theme, I can't understand why someone can think that keeping records of gun-owners is an invasion of individual's privacy, while at the same time thinks that keeping DNA records of participants at a perfectly legal political protest is fair game. Or for that matter why so many "pro-lifers" are also pro death-penalty.



Having talked about guns, I will point out an interesting fact for the benefit of my British friends: Maybe it's just the circles I move in, but despite living in New Jersey (legendary home to mobsters and all sorts of shady characters) for more than ten years, the only people I've ever seen with a gun in real-life are cops.

Passions (oo-er Missus!)

Now that I've been writing this blog for a few weeks, perhaps I should take you into my confidence about why I'm doing it. At first I felt driven to start writing about some of my experiences before I started forgetting about them. But there's more than that, as I've discovered as I've felt my way around.

I imagine that you and I are sitting in a pub, and that you have engaged me in conversation. You discover that I'm English, and that piques your interest a little. You may be a bit of an anglophile. You may be curious as to what I miss about "home." I'd love to share some of my experiences with you.

You may be another Brit in the US, and over a pint we could exchange some funny tales, some probably at the expense of America and Americans. But only a gentle bit of fun, mind you. Like me, you probably really like it over here, even if some things frustrate you from time to time. We might chat a bit about stories in the news in Britain.

Or you might be a Brit, one of those I meet when I pay a visit to England, probably in a pub, amazed at some of the things "those crazy yanks" get up to. You might want to find out if what you see in the newspapers, TV and movies is true. You've heard that "in the US everyone carries guns, it's really violent and Americans are arrogant." You might suspect that this is not the entire picture, and I'd be happy to paint a bit of a better picture for you.

But wherever we have our little chat, I'm going to be talking - and blogging - about things that I'm passionate about. I love politics, both UK and US (when I can fathom it out), but only certain aspects of it. I'm what they call over here a "bleeding heart liberal", often with a sneer, but I wear my bleeding heart on my sleeve and I'm proud about that. I love people, and I want us all to live in peace with each other and with the earth, to be healthy and happy and well-fed. I like to do my part to help that happen.

I love food. I love eating and cooking it. I enjoy all types of food. I feel driven to dispel some of those cliched views that "all British food is bland." While I don't have much time for it these days, I derive a great deal of pleasure from growing something myself, then cooking and eating it. And I love drinking good beer, wine and spirits (hard-liquor).

Books make me very happy. Since I was a child, I've always read. Whether it's vicariously living the life of another, or learning a new skill, I find comfort in the written word. Film and TV too.

Music has always been part of my life. I learned to play as a child, considered teaching it at one point, but now prefer to preserve my passion for it by not making it my career. At its best, music is an international language that we can all understand. Music was what brought my Wife and I together, even though thousands of miles separated us.

And like many people, I love a good gossip. I love to poke fun at a celebrity's expense. But I can also poke fun at myself - heck, I might as well join in with everyone else who's doing it!

Cops, Cars and a Cuppa - my first visit to the US (part 2)

(Continued from previous post)

I'd always known that American cops were armed, but when you're not used to an gun-toting police force, it really seems so "in your face." It's almost like something from a comic-book; the "Utility Belt", complete with packed heat - and testosterone to match. But I noticed the officer standing by the drop-off area outside the terminal building at Newark airport, much more than he noticed me. In fact, I was so invisible to him that he turned and spat right on my shoe. "Welcome to America!"

I dragged myself and my backpack (we like to call them Rucksacks in England) along the sidewalk (Brits call this the pavement) a few feet and anxiously awaited my ride (lift) while I munched on some of the candy (sweets) I'd bought at the store (shop). Would she recognize me? It turned out that this disheveled Brit with the rucksack stood out enough from the besuited dudes with their fancy luggage, that she was soon able to find me.

People sometimes wonder why it took me six years (actually, until my daughter was born) before I agreed to get behind the wheel of a car in the US. Here's why: My friend pulled away from the kerb (and yes, she had allowed me to get in first!) and headed for the highway (motorway). Unfortunately, where the airport exited onto the highway, all I could see were cars coming at us from every direction. I thought for sure that someone was going to crash into us. It was lunacy. I did the only sane thing I could have done. I covered my eyes with my hands and screamed like a girl.

By the time we'd arrived in Edison, New Jersey from Newark airport, I'd finally removed my hands from my eyes. I tumbled out of the car with my stuff and entered my friend's cute little house. We went straight for the kitchen, where she asked me whether I'd like a cup of tea. YES, I thought. She knows me well enough to know that all I want after this stressful transatlantic trip is a cup of tea. Nothing more, until I recover. I like this woman.

Would you like Green Tea, Decaf. Green Tea, Rose-hip, Peppermint, Chamomile, Cranberry Apple Zinger, Orange Spice, Red tea, White tea,Lapsang Souchong......

It was then I first learned about the insane amount of choice that Americans have. Over pretty much everything.

Please....do you just have some tea?

The amazing thing was she got it. Very quickly. I was beginning to think she might be a keeper.