Archive for the ‘London’ Category

I kissed a girl (and I liked it)

November 21st, 2011

If you ever need to remember why you married your partner, try thinking back to that first kiss.

Melissa recently tweeted a link to this article from A Cup of Jo, in which various dudes talk about kissing ladies for the first time. It got me thinking about a few things…

1) Americans are deeply uncivilized

I can say that now. I’m an American. But I’m also English, and the way we English do things is different. The whole “dating” thing would never work in Blighty. I mean the whole thing where a guy (sober) goes up to a girl he may or may not know (she’s also sober) and asks her out on a “date”, and she doesn’t laugh and call him a wanker, so they go out for dinner or drinks. And they ask each other questions to figure out whether they’ll be compatible as a couple (and no-one laughs and calls the other a wanker), and they probably don’t drink that much because they don’t want to seem like drunken idiots, and at the end of the night there might be a chaste little cheek kiss, but not more.

Then they do the whole thing over again, and if that goes well, they approach the mythical third date which is somehow going to completely do away with the Victorian nature of their courtship thus far and propel them, inevitably, towards bed.

It just wouldn’t work.

Because at no stage is anyone drunk.

The only way the vast majority of English men could ask a woman out on a “date” is drunk. Go on a date? Have to be at least half cut, not to claw one’s own skin off at the sheer awkwardness of it. Seal the deal? It’s somewhat ironic, but the only way we English can ever develop the cajones to get a girl into bed is if we’re drunk enough to put our ability to perform once we get there at serious risk.

The scene of our first kiss- under a lampost on Poland Street in London, outside member's bar Milk & Honey (we used to be cool back then)

2) Everyone kisses differently but everyone thinks they kiss normally

You know how it’s weird when you hear your own voice recorded and you think that’s not what my voice sounds like? Or when you see yourself on video and realize that it wasn’t your ass you should have been worrying about all these years, but actually your thighs?

You’ll never get to have any objectivity about how you kiss. You’ll never be able to understand what the experience of kissing you is like, the way that you understand what it’s like to kiss someone else. And, let’s face it, there’s a hell of a range of quality in that field (I did extensive research in my late teens and early twenties). Some are dry, some are wet. Some lips are softer than clouds, others are hard as rocks.

Others are just right.

3) All of which puts me in mind of the first time Melissa and I kissed

You can probably write the story yourself at this point.

We were both pretty drunk.

And the kiss was perfect.

 

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Posted in London, Sex and marriage

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London, my forever love

August 15th, 2011

Last week, someone asked me why I moved to London when I was young. The answer is: for love. I moved to London because I was in love with someone for the first time in my life, and I couldn’t bear to have the Atlantic Ocean between us. But I was also immersed in a deeper and more complex affair. It was a relationship that would end up defining me: my liaison with London.

Yes, Liam Gallagher did kinda change my life...

When I look back, it feels inevitable. I was obsessed with British music, film and television from the first time when, as a toddler, I watched Adam Ant cavorting as a Gentleman Highwayman on MTV. In the ’90s when my peers were forming Nirvana-inspired grunge bands, I was buying Blur and Pulp albums. As fatuous as it sounds, the March, 1997 cover of Vanity Fair was a turning point in my life. It featured Oasis-frontman Liam Gallagher and his then-wife, It Girl Patsy Kensit, lying on Union Jack sheets beneath the headline “London Swings Again”.

Vanity Fair told me: As it was in the mid-60s, the British capital is a cultural trailblazer, teeming with new and youthful icons of art, pop music, fashion, food, and film. Even its politicians are cool. Or, well, coolish.

A year later, I moved to London for the first time. It was everything that Vanity Fair promised; a city teeming with possibilities, personalities, pop culture.

And there I was, a 19-year-old student, uncouth and inexperienced as they come. Never been abroad (unless you count a bus trip to Montreal); not of legal drinking age in the States; no serious relationships under my belt except for a high school romance. I had spent most of college fixated on my Grade Point Average, amassing a resume of extra-curricular activities and generally having a rather dull time.

Then there was London. The city hummed and thrummed and teemed and tottered and pushed and pulled at such an incredible pace, and inexplicably, it felt more like home than anywhere else. I instantly belonged. I didn’t feel it, I simply did. An overweight, rather unfashionable, unwittingly innocent girl from the suburbs of Massachusetts gave herself over to London. So began a journey into adulthood that was more exquisite, more adventurous, more foolish, more risky, more romantic and ultimately more painful than…. well, I’m not sure “than what”.  Perhaps more than what might have been if I hadn’t thrown myself headlong and without caution at London.

London changed my life’s trajectory, maybe for better, maybe for worse but certainly irrevocably. It shaped me into a different person. I had bigger adventures and broader experiences and more magical moments. I also made my worst mistakes in London. I lived through some of my lowest and loneliest points; experiences that marked me with fear and self-doubt that I carry with me.

It’s been sad to watch the news from London these past weeks. But I know it’s a city that survived centuries of highs and lows and continues to reemerge, reinvent and repair. Ultimately, I think that’s how London made me, too.

Has your life been shaped by a place? Is there a city you love or identify with? I’d love to hear your stories.

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What were you thinking on your wedding day?

July 25th, 2011

Do you remember how you felt on your wedding day?

We talked about this topic recently with friends. Many couples choose to spend the evening before, and the morning of, the wedding apart. That means each half of the couple can have a very unique experience of what is the ultimate “shared” day.

So here are our differing perspectives of how our wedding day went….

NERVOUS!

Melissa says…

I barely slept the night before our wedding and stayed up having a “deep and meaningful” with Julie, my maid of honor and best friend. She and I rose early and had breakfast with my Dad at a 24-hour café. The morning was leisurely and relaxed. I floated around the venue (The Groucho Club in Soho, London– such an amazing place) watching everyone else rushing, organizing, preparing, locking down details. I drank a glass of champagne and sat on a squishy sofa, chronicling my emotions in my journal.

Then the time came to put on my dress. It was an acrobatic feat, involving several helpers and lots of wriggling. I caught my reflection in the mirror, and suddenly wasn’t sure at all about how I looked. I had chosen an old-Hollywood style dress matched with a short, sleek bob and dramatic red lips. It was deliberately not girly, floaty or stereotypically bridal. But suddenly, I was certain that Tom was going to hate it. I burst into tears. The girl who did my hair and make-up, a friend of a friend, calmed me down long enough to preserve my mascara. But I spent the remaining hour before the ceremony in a state of overwhelming tension. I felt like I was crawling out of my skin, my ears were ringing and each time I caught sight of my reflection, my stomach flip-flopped.

The time came for the walk down the aisle. As we paused at the door before making our entrance, my Father turned to me and said “Just take your time and enjoy it.” It was the perfect thing to say, but my nerves had already reached a roaring crescendo and there was no calming them. I usually have no problem being the center of attention (in fact, some would say I love it…), but I could barely lift my head to look at any of the guests or at Tom. I was convinced that everyone thought I looked foolish. The very short aisle stretched for miles.

We finally reached the end of the aisle and my Father passed my hand into Tom’s hand. I looked up at him and hissed: “Do you think I look ok?’  Tom gave me that huge, boyish grin of his and whispered: “You look beautiful!”

Immediately, the tension faded and I was able to relax and enjoy the rest of the day. It was, cliché of clichés, the best day of my life. But I wish I could go back and re-live that last hour before the ceremony… or better yet, I wish I did what many brides and grooms do today and meet up for pictures before the ceremony. I really wanted the traditional, dramatic moment of Tom seeing me in my dress for the first time when I walked down the aisle, but in retrospect I could have done without the stress!

Tom says…

Calm, cool, collected

I remember thinking beforehand that the morning of the wedding was going to seem really long. I didn’t need to be at the Groucho until the afternoon, and my best man, Rik, had stayed overnight with me at our flat in North London. I envisaged a leisurely morning of a hearty, English breakfast, followed by a few rounds of Tiger Woods Golf on the Nintendo GameCube, then putting on the morning suit and heading into Soho.

Ultimately, the morning rushed by, and before I knew it, our cab was pulling up on Dean Street and we were into the final preparations.

I don’t remember feeling all that stressed, or nervous – rather, I felt a little awed by the occasion and a little self-conscious to be center-stage. The moment I looked up to see Melissa and her father processing… well, it’s because of those moments that they write all those cheesy love songs and produce all those rom-coms. If she could have known how amazing I thought she looked and how proud and glad I was to be standing up there waiting for her, all of her fears would have dissipated instantly.

As for the rest of the day, it went by in a blur. Rik is a stand-up comedian, so his best man’s speech was like an awesome set at a comedy club, After a lengthy (boozy) dinner, every single person hit the dance floor. In fact, Melissa’s mother literally hit the dance floor when my friend Paul dropped her. Melissa and I got drunk and barely stopped dancing all night, even when the lighting rig kept tripping out the power for the whole room and stopping the music.

People always tell the bride and groom that it’s the best wedding they’ve ever been to. I think our guests meant it.

Now it’s your turn… tell us your best wedding day stories. Did you have the jitters, or were you ready to roll?  Any last-minute disasters? Do you think it’s better to see each other before the ceremony? Would love to hear about your experiences!

 

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Posted in London, Musings on Marriage

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Standing Ovations

June 7th, 2010

While we were in the UK, my brother, Mike and his wife, Rosie, invited us to go with them to see a performance by the Ukulele Orchestra of Great Britain. They’re a group of eight or so ukulele players (their instruments range from the guitar-sized bass ukulele to a soprano ukulele that looks like it fell out of a cereal packet) who play and sing a wide repertoire of songs, including Kate Bush’s Wuthering Heights and the Sex Pistols’ Anarchy in the UK. Ridiculously entertaining stuff.

But what struck me most – as indeed it had a couple of months previously when we saw Christopher O’Riley performing at Boston’s ICA – was the politics of applause. Maybe it was because the sort of concert I usually go to involves a near constant cacophony of cheering, whistling and (sadly) whooping, but I was very conscious of the dynamic between performers and audience at the end of each song. The final plucked note or strummed chord would sound and then… someone in the audience would begin to clap. Of course, within microseconds, the rest of the audience, in its entirety, would join in and there would be, as a result, applause, but for that briefest of periods, there was only one person making any noise.

My first thought – as a true Englishman – was to wonder what sort of person you would have to be to be the progenitor of the applause. The alpha applauder. Clapper Zero, if you will. Maybe there was (my wife aside) a visiting American in the audience, indeed maybe every such concert requires a visiting American in the audience so the performers can be certain there’s someone there with the self-possession and gumption to start applauding, consequences be damned and sod the self-consciousness.

Because being that first clapper does require somewhat of a leap of faith. What if you joyfully began to smack flesh on flesh only to discover, after a few moments, that no-one else had joined in, that the rest of the assembled throng had found nothing applause-worthy in the preceding performance? This is the sort of thing English people worry about.

And what really struck me was how many of these sort of leap-of-faith moments you have in a marriage. Whenever a couple decides to go out for dinner, or take a vacation, or even just go to the grocery store, it begins with one or other of you taking the lead in the hope that the other will follow. One of you says “Let’s go check out that new movie,” and waits for those microseconds to pass and for affirmation to come from the other.

Indeed, maybe the strength of a marriage can be measured by how willing you are to follow your spouse’s lead, and they to follow yours. How confident should you feel that you can suggest something beyond your usual scope of activity to your husband or wife and have them take it seriously? In a sense, this is where The Long Haul Project started; Melissa was in the shower on Patriots Day (I had to go to work) and she had this inspired, but slightly left-field idea. So she emailed me the details at work and I responded straight away. I think my reply was simply “I absolutely LOVE this idea.”

You can applaud now, if you like.

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Posted in London, May 2010, Musings on Marriage

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TLHP in London:Parks, Pubs and Polar Bears

June 5th, 2010

Fitting that London was the setting for the inaugural interview of The Long Haul Project, considering it’s where Tom and I met. It’s full of nostalgia for us. A memory lurks around every corner. When we weren’t quizzing Beth and Ben about their trans-continental love affair, we re-visited old haunts where our own story started (and checked out one or two new spots, as well). I’ve dubbed our London journey “Parks, Pubs and Polar Bears”.  If you want to do London Long Haul style, check out a few of these places:

Parks:
A ramble on Hampstead Heath was one of my “musts”. Green Park is grander, Hyde Park feels regal, Regent’s Park more manicured. But I love Hampstead Heath. It’s vast and wild and hilly, and in May so lush and green and densely wooded that it’s easy to forget you’re in a city of 10 million. My favorite bit is Parliament Hill, with its moody views over London and population of determined kite-flyers.  If you want further adventure, exit via Parliament Fields and wander up Swain’s Lane to take in the gothic, crumbling grandeur of nearby Highgate Cemetery. On the way, stop for coffee and cake at Café Mozart

Soho Square

Tom in Soho Square, London

On the other side of the “park spectrum” is Soho Square, which is lovable in spite of being cramped and dingy, with threadbare patches of grass and more cement than greenery. Compete with pigeons and derelicts for a coveted bench and crack open a bottle of wine—this isn’t the kind of park to visit for exercise, but it’s perfect for a liquid picnic and people-watching.  This is where Soho’s finest citizens mingle—trannies and prostitutes mix with media luvvies and small-time TV stars. When your bottle of wine runs dry, wander down to Old Compton Street for dinner at Balans which is boisterous, buzzy and more than a bit bi-curious. The food is great (order the bread basket now!) and you’re likely to find a new GBF among the waiters and bartenders.

Pubs

When the vibe at Balans gets too South Beach, the perfect antidote is just around the corner at French House on Frith Street.  If you want an “only in Europe” setting, you’ll discover it in this cramped little drinking den where cell phones are banned, beer only comes by the half pint and the bartenders are straight out of a Truffaut film.

The Old Crown is where I decided to book our “we’re back in London” party, in spite of not having been there for many years. Not sure why, as good pubs are hard to find in Central London and this one strikes a nice balance between modern elegance and classic boozer—and stays open until 3am on the weekend which still makes it a rarity in a city that, unlike New York, often sleeps.

The Flask Pub

The Flask, Highgate, London

We headed back to North London and our old neighbo(u)rhood to hit up our favo(u)rite London pub, The Flask,  which is nestled in Highgate Village and well worth a trek up the Northern Line.  The Flask has been in this spot since the 1600s, when it was a guest house for travelers on the road to London and much of the décor looks like it might date back to that period  (in a charming way).  The Flask is that rare pub that is perfect no matter what the weather: In winter and on rainy days (there are a few of those in London), curl up in one of the dark, hidden, cavernous corners inside the pub.  If the sun does break through (don’t hold your breath) The Flask’s beer garden is a heavenly place to enjoy a pint or some Pimms. In fact, there are a number of covered tables and plenty of heat lamps if you want to brave the garden during inclement weather (and I’m telling you people, you will get some).

You’ll notice a significant North London bias developing here.  While we admit there are lovely places in South, East and West London, we didn’t get to any of them on this particular trip.

Old White Bear, Hampstead, London

Charcuterie plate at The Old White Bear- Yum!

Instead, we rambled around Hampstead ogling the multi-million pound real estate and searching for a hidden gem of a pub called The Old White Bear (one of two polar bear references on this trip, see below). It’s off the beaten path, but worth the trek if you want to experience the very definition of a gastropub: shabby chic décor and a European-influenced menu with dishes that appear almost too beautiful to eat (though that didn’t ultimately stop us). Not the spot to go for fish, chips and a pint. We had Trebbiano, charcuterie and cheese, darling. Yum!

Polar bears

Here’s the second polar bear mention: we saw a play called Polar Bears at The Donmar Warehouse in Covent Garden, which is a teensy tinsy, eensy weensy gem of a theater which attracts famous actors in inverse proportion to its size (i.e., lots of famous actors perform here). We caught the first night of the first play by Mark Haddon, the author of The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night. It explored the complex marriage of a man and his mentally ill wife. Ah, a perfect play for our marriage theme although this one ends in murder so perhaps we should be cautious how many lessons we take from it.

That’s actually the only other “polar bear” reference we came across, but here are a few other items for your London To Do list:

To stay: The St Martin’s Lane Hotel is modern, minimalist, full of B-list celebs, way over what we should have been spending. But worth it if you’re treating yourself, like we were.

To look at art: The Tate. We usually go Tate Modern but this time we went old school at Tate Britain because we wanted to see the Chris Ofili show. It was interesting to see how he’s progressed since winning the Turner Prize back in 1998 (I thought it was “a few years ago” that he won, turns out it’s more than a decade. Sigh, getting old). We didn’t do the Turners and Constables, though I hear they’re quite good too.

To drink (not at a pub): Freud, an underground hideaway off Neal Street in Covent Garden. Descend the industrial metal steps into a room full of improbably stylish people, outrageously loud rock music and potently strong cocktails.

To eat something different: Beth and Ben took us to Guanabana, a BYO restaurant in Kentish Town that serves delicious food with a Caribbean twist. The place had a great vibe, spoiled only slightly by the loud Lionel Richie and Gloria Estefan soundtrack blaring (improbably) from the speakers. Otherwise, a real gem.

To walk or run: Along the South Bank of the Thames. We chose to run early on Friday morning. It was cold. Next time, we’ll walk and stop off at Borough Market for breakfast sausages.

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Posted in London, May 2010

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Interview #1: Beth & Ben, London, May 2010

June 2nd, 2010

Beth and Ben are friends of ours from our London days – and also an international couple in their early 30s. They seemed like the perfect starting point for our journey.

So, on a recent trip to London we sat down with them (and some red wine) and talked about their marriage – how they met, why they decided to get married, how marriage changed their relationship, and so on.

Using friends as the first TLHP interview subjects was definitely a way to ease into it, but we also lucked out on the interesting, insightful (and sometimes just way too adorable) answers they gave to our questions.

What did we learn about marriage from Beth and Ben? A whole lot, but one of the things that really stuck with us was when Ben said that he’d once thought about marriage as just ‘a bit of paper’, but now that he and Beth were married it was that bit of paper that gave their relationship a whole extra source of strength.

We selected some of the highlights from their interview by way of a teaser. There will be more to follow soon.

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Posted in London, May 2010

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First TLHP trip completed

May 18th, 2010

This is just a quick update to say that we have successfully completed our first Long Haul Project trip.

On May 4th we flew over to England, spending some time with family and friends, visiting old haunts in London and conducting our first interview, with old friends Beth and Ben. Over the next week or two we’ll be posting more in-depth stuff about them, about other things we got up to while we were there and so on.

In the meantime, we took some pretty cool photos, which are all over at our Flickr page (http://www.flickr.com/photos/thelonghaulproject/). Here are a few tasters for you:

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