Journalistic Confessions: Part I

Summary: I think, I think, I think…

Word of the day: still

You can either choose that kind of water, or sparkling water. It's so fun. Today, I asked the waiter for sparkling; why would I want to be still?

What I learned today: Being a financial journalist in England -- although I’m about to complain about it -- has huge perks, such as the amazing food I had today at a press lunch on the effect of the credit crunch on credit derivatives.

Next time I go to London I will ... be the boss of my own newspaper and say “see ya” to people that went to school to study Australian history or something and want to then learn about the news business. (Oh I'm being a brat!)

Lukewarm Tip
I think something about journalism in England (or maybe just the English in general or maybe the city of London) is not sitting well with me and I think it built up and I think I’ve subtlety been taking it out on those around me. And I think I will feel better once I tell you.

Today I went to a swanky press briefing lunch and sat next to someone at a financial newspaper. She had distractingly thick eyeliner on and mentioned she had to go to a libel training session after that (which she had never had before). I, the young, sprightly, American journalist that I am, nicely mentioned how horrendous my communication law exam about libel had been. I could sense some British pride in her voice as she mentioned that in England they value experience over journalism schooling. And I mentioned that in America you could never get any sort of respectable job if you didn’t go to a top journalism school and also have internships under your belt (look at me! my Midwestern modesty finally dissolving!).

Then she told me how people just aren’t as careful in England. No one will even call about an error, unless it’s in The Times (translation: New York Times) or something … Ew! I miss American journalism, full of kids who memorized the Associated Press stylebook and slander court cases. *Sigh.* Here I always rolled my eyes at my journalism friends that were wannabe Woodwards and now I crave that sort of energy. American journalists and British journalists: both self-righteous, but the former so much more worthy of this trait. (Oh I'm being a brat again!)

So somehow this unvoiced knowledge of my American superiority/inferiority has been weighing on me. And I’ve been letting it out in slight acts of bitter rebellion. It made me kind of snippy to our surveys editor, who wanted me to send a bunch of e-mails to clients after I got back in the office. She thankfully realized how overwhelmed I was, and figured she’d do it herself. Actually, that worked out in my favor. I do have plenty to do and didn’t get a bachelor’s degree in sending e-mails, although it feels like I did some days.

And then my co-worker, who is really such an ally to me for the most part, playfully asked me if I was chatting with my boyfriend. I could’ve just said, no, I am actually e-mailing our boss. Instead I think I was almost a bit snooty, saying, “Um, no, I’m e-mailing [our boss] and I’m not like other people who work here, talking to my boyfriend all day.” Geez, what have I become? A monster? I mean, I was speaking the truth, the (lack of) work ethic of some people is really quite astounding. But now I set myself up! The next time I do talk to my boyfriend at work I will look like such a jerk!

Maybe I just got sick of making people feel good about themselves all of the time, especially when they are English and generally feel good about themselves anyway depending on what birth rank they were born into (wink). It’s tiring being Kind Ellie, who, while speaking my mind, still manages to make everyone feel great about themselves as if I am the host of one big constant party.

All it took was that London way of life -- the Oxbridge manner of ruling one of the most capitalistic cities on earth -- to bring the assertive me to the surface. And I don’t know if I like it yet. I don’t want to be irritated by the utter cluelessness of some other journalists heres; I would rather be surrounded by other cutthroat writers and reporters that I could be learning from, that make me feel like a small dot of inkblot who wants to be a novel.

But maybe I’m exaggerating. Sometime when I think I’m being assertive, it still comes across sweet as icing on a cupcake. Or maybe I’m underestimating. I could be becoming one of the shedevil journalists I’ve worked with in America with giant you-know-whats up their you-know-whats.

Well whatever that case, I’m glad I told you.

I am now reading: The Secret History by Donna Tartt -- a thrilling, modern-day Greek tragedy set in New England to make me feel even chillier.

Bobcats Loose in London

Summary: It was nice to hang out with one of my own kind.

Word of the day: uni
= university, which they always say instead of college, which implies community college

What I learned today: It’s not just me; American journalism in England is hard to do.

Next time I go to London I will...just take the bus. The tube is quite possibly overrated. I am just saying that because I lost my Oyster card.

I am Not Alone!
My former professor and friend Debbie Gump hooked me up with a fellow E.W. Scripps School of Journalism alumnus named Erin, who has been living in London and working as a financial journalist now for two years! It was so refreshing to hang out with a fellow American/Ohioan/Bobcat/journalist. A few things we discussed:

1. How the British class system works. Sure, it might be in place in America (ever heard of the Bush family?), but the British seem even worse.

2. How majoring in journalism is obsolete in England. To them, it translates to “media studies,” and we know how that major is kind of a “whatever” major in the states. So you have to make it clear to future employers just how prestigious a journalism degree from Ohio University really is — better than one from Harvard, in fact.

3. How London is really a city of many tiny villages all distinct, and how living in Columbus could really be like living in one little borough of London.

4. How she met her husband on the plane on her way to London, after ditching her life in Columbus! Holy crap, that would be way more convenient than my situation of being across the ocean from my boyfriend:)

5. How quickly you can change your life if you want to, i.e. no matter where I end up next, it is not really the end at all.

6. How Midwesterners have a modest charm that doesn't get them anywhere in London. We have to be a.) more city-like and b.) more British-like, which is about two steps up on the cocky and cold meter.

I am now watching: Buffy the Vampire Slayer — my flatmate is addicted to this show and watches it on DVD, and I am finding it very easy to get enthralled in as well.

Overdue Update from Over L'Ocean

Summary: Paris is lovely and so is my life across the ocean.

Word of the day: proper
The British use this word all of the time, and it makes them seem all the more proper. Instead of making instant coffee, you might want to go get proper coffee from the shop. Instead of going to the supermarket, you might want to go to the proper market. Instead of your cocaine-sniffing boyfriend, you might want to find a proper husband. (I love this word and will certainly take it with me to the U.S., along with a few others. The final list of words I am taking home with me will be published in December.)

What I learned today: When you really miss America, just go to the movies. As I walked into a Showcase Cinemas this evening, I felt like I was at home. Of course I saw a “new” movie that’s been out for ages in the U.S., but it doesn’t matter.

Next time I go to London I will…staple my Oyster card to my body. It is my unlimited public transportation pass, and I think I must’ve dropped on a bus on my last leg home from Paris. Now I have to wait a few days to get a new one, riding the bus as much as possible. Luckily my flatmate had an extra I could top up and use, but I’m wasting the unlimited days left on my card. This probably does not make sense to non-Londoners at all so I’m glad I’m wasting your time.

10 Semi-Interesting Things That Happened Since Tuesday

1. My colleague Christopher and I went to Paris to do an interview, and decided to walk after dinner from the Louvre to the Eiffel Tower. And it was worth it. Even though Ellie was in heels and still sore from it.

2. My five years of French didn’t help me much. But at least I could say “Nous allons [point to map]” when we needed directions.

3. For some reason there is a stigma that Parisians are not friendly, but I think they are the sweetest people on earth. A couple of times we got out the map, people stopped to help us. That would never happen in ol' do-not-make-eye-contact London.

4. Christopher thought he lost his passport and had the worst panic a person can have on the way from the taxi to the train station. And I was dosing off through the whole of it like a good friend. He located it, but of course I lost my Oyster card later that night.

5. I rode the train from London to Paris, through the channel and everything. I still don’t really understand how the train goes through the English channel, but that’s cool that it does. I should look it up on Wikipedia.

6. At work on Friday, we took breaks to the pub twice. Isn’t it lovely how that is not taboo? Of course, half a bottle of wine is not a good idea before trying to do a news broadcast. I giggled every time I had to say the name of German bank for like 10 tries before I got it right. “Handelsbanken was appointed custodian for Tapiola Group” will forever make me giggle.

7. I am stuffed from delicious Turkish food from a scuzzy restaurant out by Wood Green. I loved seeing the crummy yet cultured side of London.

8. I sat on the top of a double-decker bus for the first time, riding through the city on the way home.

9. My boss liked my article on OTC derivative valuation. He said “great job.” My co-worker said that a "good job" from him will mean I’m going to securities services heaven. Of course, he edited it a lot, inserting his own knowledge into it. I guess it’s like someone who doesn’t have a clue about music doing tons of research and interviewing tons of bands and writing a story and then giving it to someone who is a music expert. The music expert will add even the most obvious facts, like an “of course” to the sentence “Rock ‘n’ roll stars often have drug problems,” or something.

10. I was down about the weather here, but recently decided that it’s actually perfect. It occurred to me that authentic London is not in the beautiful summer, but in the cold winters where Mr. Crochet and Tiny Tim walk beneath street lamps and Bridget Jones runs through the snow in her underwear.

I am now listening to: Cat Power — I am so obsessed with the album The Greatest. It’s my London soundtrack.

[Edit: I deleted a photo from this page.]

Autoreply: Ellie is Out of the Office

Je suis au Paris.

That's all I remember from French. But I'm interviewing a bigwig at a huge European bank, in France on Thursday.

Listen, I'm kind of a big deal.

Will update the blog this weekend.

P.S. Finished my story on OTC derivatives, and just because you are dying for a preview (you won't believe I understand this paragraph):

As the amount of OTC derivatives continues to grow in portfolios, more and more investment managers have turned to independent valuation. That trend toward increased valuation has been underscored by recent market woes that emphasize extra precaution in valuation, influenced by compliance trends toward more accuracy, consistency and transparency in pricing illiquid assets as a whole.

If you want to read the rest, you're going to have to pay $100 for the next issue. Or $20,000 for a pdf version of the story, if you would prefer.

Au revoir!
Fromage!
Carte!
Mauvais!
Ami!
Blanc!
Oh la la!

Dancin' In the Street

Summary: I am going to Paris for work this week! But this blog doesn't talk about that at all.

Word of the day: maths
Not math, but maths. It sounds so trashy when you hear it come out of a bigwig at a bank during a press conference, but apparently that's what they say.

What I learned today: Hedge fund valuation has a new analysis technique. Neat! (Is it scary that I understood what was going in the press conference?)

Next time I go to London I will...Not forget my camera chord! I really need to have my mom send that. (Mom, will you send me my photo chord so I can put pictures I take on this blog? I also need another sweater I think. And this hair straightening cream I think I left on my dresser maybe...)

This is why I love London (photo c/o Jessica):



Nothing like tap dancing under the bridge! We came across this team on our way from the market to the Tate along Bankside Saturday. I considered that it might be a good way to make some extra cash in the future. Maybe Mom should send my tap shoes too.

Cracks in the Floor

Summary: The little things make me miss home the most. But London is the only place where you can see a giant crack in a floor.

Word of the day: bubble
We are guessing this is the potato concoction that came with my breakfast yesterday, but aren't too sure.

What I learned today: Absence makes the heart grow fonder, and more irritable.

The next time I go to London I will…not drink in Leicester Square.

Aching for Home
It’s funny how you can be in another country, eating weird foods, learning a new culture and being without all of the people you love in the world, and it doesn't bother you. Running around a huge city with two overstuffed suitcases by yourself? No problem. Sightseeing alone because you have no friends? No big deal.

And then an ear ache comes along, and it puts you over the edge. Suddenly your ear aches and you are overseas and alone and your doctor is on the other side of the ocean, and it feels like the end of the world.

Let’s just say I had a similar experience this weekend. But otherwise I had a delightful last couple of days.

My Very English Weekend
This consisted of sipping English cider (you can drink in public, but see my story below) watching the history of London in film on a big screen set up in Trafalgar Square. Then we shared a meal at a pub and lamented that the nachos we ordered weren’t just one huge, gross plate Applebee’s style. And they charge for water—lame. Then we refilled our alcohol supply at Tesco and wandered to Leicester Square.

It was here that a cop informed us we couldn’t drink in public in that spot and we thought he was joking as he said “Finish that quick, or else give me one.” When we didn’t believe him he said, “Would you talk to an American cop like that?” We walked away, and then he followed us and we realized that, no, he was not joking. And we threw our beers in the trash. Of course, we were absolutely flabbergasted at how easy that was. If I were back in Ohio, I would be in jail just like that.

To make this weekend authentically London, Jessica and I wandered a true English market at Borough Market, which is right near where I work. I stocked up on fresh produce and tried billions of samples of cheese. America really has nothing like the glorious English markets.

Then we went and saw the 500-foot crack in the floor at the Tate Modern.

I love how London is always a mixture of something old-fashioned and something modern.

And now I will finish writing about the valuation of OTC derivatives. What a buzz kill.

I am now watching: Breakfast at Tiffany’s. Can you believe I’ve never been to New York? I bet I would like it. It’s the American version of London!

[Edit: I deleted a photo I did not take.]

The Art of Journalism

Summary: Trying to understand my own writing is making my head hurt.

Word of the day: chips
In case you didn’t know, fish and chips are not served with potato chips (those are “crisps”) but a form of fries.

What I learned today: Everyone in America seems to think that Europeans hop on the train to Paris or Rome or wherever all the time. No sir, it’s totally expensive. Everyone in Europe flies everywhere. I was looking up taking a trip to Paris, and discovered that the train is 100 pounds more than flying. What?

Next time I go to London I will…try not to be working when I do it.

The Craft
I am really busy, swimming in a sea of OTC derivatives and not getting that last 15 minutes of sleep I apparently need to function.

Journalism seems fun and easy when you’re writing about topics you could write about before the interviews—some of my favorites: ballet, ferrets, the oppression of women.

However, one thing every journalist has to learn at some point is how to piece stuff together you don’t understand at all. Even when you are covering a beat (= area/topic), you are going to have moments that require a lot of time perusing Wikipedia for background. Even the swankiest music journalists around might fall into some psychedelic-folk-punk-swing band they’ve never heard of.

In more complex examples, the instrument could be harder to process (uh-oh, I'm starting to sound like an investment consultant!). If it is a complicated topic, such as OTC derivatives, you don't have to understand the definition of what you are writing about, but you need to understand why it matters. Do I really understand what an OTC derivative is? Of course not, but I could tell you everything anyone needs to know about them, written for people who already know what it is.

And that’s really why journalists exist. Not because we know what we are talking about—but because we went to school to know how to find out about what we’re talking about: by typing it into Google.

Cost of Living -- It Ain't that Bad

Summary: Londoners whine about the cost of living in London, but it’s not that bad if you aren’t from America.

Word of the day: slag
Another good "sl" word to describe a loose woman.

What I learned today: In London, people will say it’s warm and that you need a jacket in the same sentence. Well, I’ve heard it twice now.

Pound for Pound
So everyone talks about how expensive it is in London, and it is, but I don’t know what the Brits are complaining about. I guess having healthcare paid for isn't enough for them. If I weren’t using American dollars, life would be great. And even then, a lot of things only cost as much as they would for me in the U.S. of A. For instance, a loaf of bread here costs 1 pound or $2. So I’m still spending the same amount on bread. (That’s really the only example I can think of actually—everything else is way out of my normal price range!)

But, my point is, if I were British, I think I would pretty much be spending an amount comparative to $1 on bread (as the pound seems to have the same worth to the British as the dollar to Americans). And cigs are 5 pounds, just like they are $5 in America (or more). Basically, everything seems the same as in America (and I’m not from an expensive city). Sometimes it even seems to be skewed a little cheaper. Of course, I’m not factoring in wages. Minimum wage here is way low, come to think of it. But I still feel as if a lot of salaries are similar to American salaries.

Today I realized that even with the exchange rate, having an expensive flat in London for an American is still on target with a flat in NYC. It might even be more in NYC. (I know its way into the four figures for many Big-Apple dwellers.)

So why is London listed so much higher on the expensive cities list? I guess it’s just because of their overpriced currency. So people should explain that it’s expensive to travel here, not to live here and get paid in pounds. Londoners got the latter into their heads.

Basically, being over here is like “pissing away money” as my co-worker called it. But for me. I’m sick of hearing native Londoners tell me it’s expensive for them. They live on the top of their world with their fancy pound that is totally worth too much because they have so many exports and no imports. (Is that how that works?) They could buy a house in America for half price, so I don’t want to hear them complain.

I am now watching: I think I’ve reached an all-time low. It appears that One Tree Hill is on my tele and the remote is too far away…

Stonehenge Rocks! and Other Adventures

Summary: It’s good to get out and see the English countryside and forget about how much money it costs to live in London.

Word of the day: bookie
My co-worker James (who pretty much provides me with a new word every day) says this is a betting house. Of course, what is a betting house? -- a sort of gambling parlor. We don’t really have those in the U.S., as far as I know. All of our grocery stores are supermarkets, and our betting houses are gigantic casinos -- that’s just how we do it.

What I learned today (the past few days): London is always beautiful on the one day you want to stay in. Well, at least I went to the grocery store. Oh well, I’m kind of partial to cloudy days anyway.

The next time I go to London I will...probably try to find a cheaper place to live. Not that I think I will ever live here again. (Yay international journalism, but I won’t ever want to be across the ocean from everyone I love again.) Anyway, the truth is, half of my paycheck goes to rent. I’ve heard this is true with a lot of people in London, but still, I probably spend about 100 to 150 pounds (mind you, $200 to $300) more than I should per month. All my friends in their long-term hostels like to make fun of my posh flat overlooking the Thames with a view of the towering buildings of companies I write about. I am so lame for living here. (Don’t tell anyone, but my landlord hires a cleaning lady who actually made my bed for me on Friday!)

Let’s just say, I’ll be paying for the fact that I chose to have a nice flat in London for a looooong time. Well, I suppose I shouldn’t feel bad: I’ve lived in several non-ideal places, including a basement with tons of spiders and my friend’s parents’ house, and my first month at college was in a dorm room with a boy-obsessed drug addict and an Army girl that went to sleep at 8 p.m. (who later became my good friend) in one small room. So I deserve this.

Rocking Out of the City
I definitely needed a break from city life, especially after the insane amount of interviews I’m doing for my feature due next week (so if I’m not responding to e-mails, this is why). My trip to Stonehenge and Bath with the other BUNAC Work in Britain kids was perfect. And hopefully drinking the healing waters of Bath’s hot springs will keep me going this week.

Stonehenge, while a pile of rocks, was certainly awe-inspiring for the fact that it’s thousands of years old. Definitely a mystical sight to see in person, surrounded by rolling green pastures and grazing sheep that get photographed more than Paris Hilton.

Courtesy of Wikipedia

Bath is positively charming, as we labeled it. It’s sad that it seems as if it’s not a real city, but rather, a city existing on tourism alone. However, the old Roman-inspired architecture, flower pots in the streets and spas from thousands of years ago made it a sigh-of-relief city. And while I know I overuse the word precious (because of my precious former roommate Carolyn), I think everyone would agree that it's a good word to describe Bath.

My fellow Emma fan, Jessica, and I also soaked in the Jane Austen Centre (almost all of her novels mention the city and a couple take place there). We also traversed the ruins of the Roman baths (below).

So anyway, I’m full of historical romance, and am going to go finish Emma and balance my checkbook and cry.

I am now listening to: Everything! Matt Padgett, as I like to refer to my boyfriend as, has sent me an early Christmas present, and now I have the tiniest iPod in England!

[Edit: I replaced a photo with my own and deleted photos I did not take.]

P.S.

Want the completely unfiltered story about anything? E-mail epbehling@gmail.com. I loooove bitching about anything and everything.

Sorry, It’s Just a Rerun

OK so I decided to remove Tuesday’s post (a facetious account of my day at work) because it wasn’t the best platform to present my job. I suppose it's difficult to tell you about doing journalism in another country (the original idea of this blog) without divulging too much about work. But I'll figure out a way.

As you may know, I like to tell everyone everything, but it looks like I will have to learn that not only do my parents read this, but maybe a PR person will when they find Google my name before I interview a company bigwig and find this blog. I wouldn’t want them to read about me poking fun of my own magazine or something. (They don’t know that I just like to make fun of myself and everything in my realm, including jobs.)

Although, just to make sure you know: I am not so self-important as to think that my blog really is going to cause some big journalistic scandal. But I suppose when it comes to my inside-the-workplace accounts, I have to be professional about it. I tried to balance this when I did a inside-the-newsroom blog for The Post this past year. This effort sprung from my looooove of journalistic transparency (such a buzz word). However you can’t really elaborate on co-worker idiosyncrasies or every dirty joke uttered in the office. (You should save those for your novel after you quit journalism.)

So I guess blogs are kind of a tease in the sense that they feel so personal when you read them -- like you are really there. But people (particularly journalists) who write them are really not telling you everything.

OK enough blogging about blogging. Here are the remnants of Tuesday’s post:

Summary: A day in the life of a clueless reporter covering the securities industry

Word of the day: derivative
Certainly not an English word, but another language. Derivatives are financial instruments whose value is derived from the value of something else (thanks Wikipedia!), and they are taking over my life.

What I learned today: Just smile and nod. Smile and nod.

Next time I go to London I will…totally come back with friends. (That will make more sense when you see what I'm watching.)

[and basically what my original post inferred was:]

1. I found out my big feature on the valuation of OTC derivatives is due next week, so I am scrambling to interview a trillion important people!

2. Being a young person and therefore only person who can work a video camera is great because I probably get to go to Paris to film for our upcoming DVD.

3. My boss informed me that if I can do this article on OTC derivatives, I can do anything. In fact, he said he’d recommend me to The New York Times. Wouldn’t that be nice?

I am now watching : The Friends where they are in London for Ross' wedding and Joey is homesick for America. And Rachel comes to London to stop it…aww they are showing Big Ben and Tower Bridge right now!!! I live there!

Wannabe Poet/Blogaholic

Summary: I need to stop making blogs!

Word of the day: soft cheese
Alas, I discovered my beloved cream cheese is called “soft cheese” in England. Let’s hope it tastes the same here.

What I learned today: Let’s just quote Jane Austen from Emma: “How often is happiness destroyed by preparation, foolish preparation!”

Next time I go to London I will…never have to get another National Insurance number again, thank god. Everyone who works in England is supposed to get one, kind of like SSN. Then they take about 10 percent from your paycheck to pay for their free-for-all healthcare, and if you are American, you don't get the benefits of this, boo. It took up half my day (but I confess that’s OK because now that I read all the time, I love long lines and waits).

Blogaholics Anonymous

Here’s how I chose to spend my evening: I started another blog! This is quite different, documenting the poetry I write here. There is a link to it on the left-hand side of the page, or just click here if you like amateur abstract art in the form of words.

Did I ever mention that my real dream is to write poetry? Because it is. But journalism and poetry are much the same, and I’m not the first to note it. Both have appreciation of the efficiency of words and quest for truth.

I am watching: Desperate Housewives, as soon as it loads on sidereel in a hundred years. Them b*tches are getting crazy!

All the World's a Stage

Word of the day: rubbish
People use this word for “garbage” a lot more than in America.

What I learned today: One can have a cultured weekend on $10 and a few tube tickets. I’ve proven this two weekends in a row. And it feels much more fulfilling then spending a lot of money.

The next time I go to London I will...catch another performance of Shakespeare; I don’t care if I can’t understand what's going on.

Theater On the Other Side of the Globe
Well, today I fulfilled an earlier wish I had by attending a performance at The Globe Theatre (ew, I hate the English spelling of theater), a rebuilt version of the original home of Shakespeare’s plays (pictured below).

Courtesy of Wikipedia

It’s definitely a magical place, and we got cheap tickets on the last night of the season, standing right where peasants used to cram altogether and pee themselves in Shakespeare’s day. I absolutely enjoyed seeing professionals perform the nonsensical comedy Love’s Labour Lost (ew English spelling again). The point of the play is certainly lost on anyone, but the costumes and performance were delightful.

I attended with my new friend Jessica, who creepily is reading Jane Austen’s Emma as well. Wow, we have completely left contemporary interpretations of Shakespeare and Jane Austen (e.g. 10 Things I Hate About You, Clueless) and entered in the romantic realm of great literature of the past.

I’m loving London. Love.

I am now watching: The First Wives Clubs. Apparently they play this movie every week in England. Next up: Hitch, which I’ve also already seen in my few weeks here. One of those female-workaholic-journalist/wedding planner/doctor-is-rescued-by-falling-in-with-source/client/patient stories. Boo! Not all successful females fall for someone in the line of duty. Stupid Hollywood.

As My Grandma Says, Anything Goes in London Town

Summary: I looooove weird people and they are all over London!

Word of the day: draught
They call checkers “draught” in England!

What I learned today: Punks are alive and well, and plentiful in England.

Next time I go to London I will...live in Camden and never leave.

I REALLY fell in love with London today when I stumbled into the sea of treasures that is Camden Market. I think I avoided it up until this point, just because I was afraid to buy things given my god-awful exchange rate situation. But it turns out all I needed was a few weeks of realizing everything I buy in pounds will be doubled, and now I’m OK.

I also realized that throwing oneself into a pit of lovely things is a wonderful idea, regardless of your financial situation.

What’s interesting is that Camden Market is a huge tourist spot, and yet, it feels authentically London unlike the camera flash central of central London. Of course, there are tons of cheesy souvenir shops, but they only seem to add to the wonderful kitsch effect in this setting.

From pulsating vintage shops to small hole-in-the-wall crafsters, Camden Market is like nothing anyone from my hole-in-the-earth hometown has ever seen before.

But better than the draping silver and buttons-turned-earrings are the people. They took that London tendency to wear fishnets a step further with the craziest ensembles and hairdos I have ever seen.

Sure, just like any rock ‘n’ roll fan, I know about London’s contribution to the punk scene, etcetera, but I didn’t realize just how preserved it all was in Camden Town.

And sure, I used to frequently visit The Union bar in Athens, Ohio, and see a mohawk or three, but Camden is where the Union is normal and the rest of y’all are not.

And I adore this.

Now listening to: I wish I could say I was listening to something really punk or whatever, but the closest I can come to that in my library is My Chemical Romance, and I’m so over MCR anyway.

[Edit: I deleted a photo from this page.]

I am not Bovvered

Add-on to the last post:

Thank you comedian Catherine Tate and Christopher for this link. It makes my anxiety over the phrase "I can't be bothered" evaporate into laughter.

Something Borrowed, Something Blue

Summary: The London essentials/I wish I had something more interesting to say

Word of the day: fag
I saw a headline today about keeping fags away from children, and I did a double take, and then remembered that “fags” mean cigarettes. Turns out they just upped the age to buy cigs in England to 18. And I'm here to tell you that that just does not work.

What I learned today: I am really, really American. Basically, I like coffee and working and talking to random people at bus stops AND I CAN’T HELP IT.

Next time I go to London I will...bring over all the American junk food I can find.

When I get back I am going to yell at ABC for making my life miserable because I have to find bootleg links everywhere of the first half of Grey’s Anatomy, then do it all over again for the second half. (They don’t let me view it on their Web site from the U.K.)

I had a really awesome post idea about the differences of American media and British media, but I should keep thinking about that one.

I also want to talk about working at a trade magazine, but my head is spinning too much over this derivatives story I’m working on, and I’m too ticked at my online TV misfortunes (wait until my kids hear about what their mom went through back in '07 when the Internet didn't have everything).

Instead I’m going to do that horrible thing when I just ramble on about what I’m not going to talk about.

How ‘bout I’ll tell you what I was thinking about on the escalator today, which was the “essential London” tools you have to have to be authentically London.

(I dedicate this post to my friend Catherine, whose wedding I am missing this weekend because I am in London.)

They are: something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue. And a handful of dismissive phrases, such as "I can't be bothered." [editor's note: Ellie has some sort of affliction for this phrase that has not yet been diagnosed. It's so cold and English that it makes her fragile little midwestern heart break every time she hears it.]

The Tools

something old: a fuzzy scarf you picked up at a market somewhere

something new: an umbrella with original decor, because you will go through a lot of these

something borrowed: a book to read while crammed between a smelly person and a large old man on the tube

something blue: an Oyster card, which is your travel card around London. All you do is swipe it, and the rush of being a Londoner reverberates through you.

The end.

I am watching: Grey’s Anatomy, if it ever stops loading!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The Taxes are High, But So is the Fashion!

Summary: People in London are stylish, and I love it.

Word of the day: queue
You don’t wait in “line” here; you wait in the queue.

What I learned today: Hm, they pay a lot of taxes here … like, everyone lives off of the government … England might make me fiscally conservative, and here my girl Hillary wants to do universal health care in the U.S. now…

Next time I go to London I will...open an outlet shop here. My flatmate says they don’t have them.

My colleague Christopher just moved back to America and is complaining to me right now about how he can’t find a suit in his size (because Americans are fat, in case you didn’t know). And that reminded me to tell you the best thing ever:

Things I Love About London Fashion So Far

pinstripe suits -- Boys aren’t lame about being fashionable here. They sport the vertical lines with pride.

fishnets -- In case you don’t know, I LOVE ALL THINGS HOSIERY. And the designs on tights, especially fishnets, are creative and fabulous and everyone has them -- not just weirdos like me.

scarves -- The wraps, pashminas, scarves and shawls women adorn themselves with are fashionable and useful to quell the slight London chill. I think I might have to buy a fun one as my one London treat.

Mary Jane heels -- I know these are very in for the fall, but I love how they click all over London beneath each laced leg.

jackets -- Before I got to London I was pretty much on a quest for all of the jackets I see here for the fall fashion issue of Columbus Alive. And now here they are, in cropped, big-buttoned, patterned glory circa Audrey Hepburn.

subtle/jarring color -- I love how gray outfits turn to electric blue shoes, purple stockings peak out from business suits and a metallic silver bag suddenly glimmers on the tube. You never know what to expect in London.

I am watching: Heroes. I doubt this is the same season as in the U.S., but I’m all about it. (And by the way, it's commercial free on BBC.)

[Edit: I deleted the photos from this page, because they weren't my own.]

On My J’s in England

Summary: Live to work? Or work to live?

Word of the day: Jack (Jones)
A little Ldn slang brought to you by my co-worker James. It means alone, i.e. “on my Jack,” or simply, “I’m on my j’s.”
But who is Jack Jones, I asked? Well, my research tells me that it is just a typical example of rhyming cockney slang, which is written in fun code. The slang word is short for a word that rhymes with the word it means. Ok let’s break that down: Jack --> short for “Jack Jones” --> rhymes with “alone.”
Let's try another one. The phrase "On my Todd" supposedly means the same thing as "on my Jack." Todd --> Todd Sloane --> alone
Well who is Jack Jones? Of course there were a billion of them, I’m sure, so it's unclear of the celebrity it is referring too. It seems the saying could come from the lyrics of a cockney song played around the turn of the century, or could be named after a singer himself. Regardless, he might not have been a loner at all, but just a useful name to rhyme with "alone."

What I learned today: London is humbled like any old city when it rains, and I kind of like it. My polka-dot umbrella sure did hold up nicely!

Next time I go to London I will...speak in cockney. (The rhine in Spine…)

This feels like a lot of disjointed thoughts I could’ve put together to make a great paper…but I never will…so here’s my word vomit.

Today my co-worker Loyla and I were talking about life and jobs, blah, blah…

We discovered that when you’re ripe and fresh out of “uni” like me, you are just DYING to get your first paycheck and settle the heck down (having the same neighborhood bar for longer than a few months). And then when you hit her age (late 20s) and older, you start to wish you had gotten a lot of stuff out of the way when you were a youngin’ -- i.e. traveling, living in another city, eating more hamburgers, whatever.

My flatmate is in her late 30s (I think) and seems to give a similar message. She is always telling me not to worry too much about work/life, because I have energy now. And, like others, she tells me to travel as much as I can and do as much as I can and basically makes me feel like I'm going to die in a couple years…

It made me wonder, about how I need to stop trying to grow up. And how when I'm grown up, I still want to be adventuresome in some way. And how much I really should appreciate being in England, because in a few years, I’ll be stuck in my career, or whatever. I don’t mean to be a downer to my fellow twentysomethings, but I hope you all think as well about living it up, regardless of where you are/what you are doing. As much as we all secretly crave to just find security (in paychecks, locations, loves), it’s important to let the adventures happen.

Which brings me to some observations I came to about American culture. In America, we squelch adventure in general, perhaps. Overseas employees loooove us because Americans are workaholics. It is true that America is a more “live to work” society than many other countries, as Geert Hofstede found in his research of cultural work differences. He rated countries on a masculinity scale. Great Britain actually has a higher “masculinity index” than America, which surprises me, because I find America to be more work-focused, but there are other factors that can affect this (such as England's slightly more archaic treatment of women).

I’ve gathered that English college studies are not as career-focused as Americans. I was stressed out for four years, getting internships and managing a newspaper and all about getting the job after I graduated. Sure I liked learning as well, but I also received life training. (I know I went to one of the best schools in my field and was a little too live-to-work myself, so it’s difficult to compare, but I still find it's true across the board with many American college students.) I wonder if this is good -- American 18-year-olds are taught to go to school to start their horrendous 9 to 5 life. We shun people who study topics they are simply interested in. What are you going to do with that? We ask. It seems other countries are more acceptable of this, and maybe even encouraging of people to not jump into their career right away, and maybe take years after college to really get there.

Also, traveling seems to be much more integrated into the lives of people in Europe and other parts of the world. In Australia, it is standard for young people to take a year to travel. I would kill for that to be a part of the American agenda! Of course, in Europe it is easier to travel, but I still think they appreciate seeing other countries and strive to take more trips than Americans. With that said, studying abroad seems to be more and more popular but I don’t know that it is still a part of the average student’s education.

The State Department estimates that only a quarter of Americans own a valid passport, The New York Times reported. I’m realizing that perhaps our lack of traveling could build up to add to a more overall mentality in America, and contribute to a lack of cultural relativism in our country. Finding out about the rest of the world does not seem to be an important part of American education. Finding a career and making money is.

Of course, I'd love to hear your thoughts:)

I am reading: Emma by Jane Austen

Rainy Days and Mondays

Word of the day: hob
In American, this is a male ferret (which surely most people don’t know, but I of course do). In England, this is a stove.

What I learned today: How to cook chicken. It took me to go all the way to another country to actually start using the oven and the “hob.”

Next time I go to London I will...visit when it isn’t so cold.

I don’t post on Mondays, so you don’t have to hear me rant about America or the exchange rate or working for a trade magazine. Instead of writing, I am going to curl up with Jane Austen’s Emma, try to stay as warm as possible, and be excited that I am in England and know how to feed myself.