Parliament, before and after the Hubs

This time around we made the effort to see the inside of Parliament and as luck would have it, both the House of Commons and the House of Lords were in session! The Hubs was *very excited.* The following dialogue is a recreation of a session from the House of Commons as seen from the balcony:

Deputy Speaker: I'm sure my honorable friend would like to think all his topical questions are reasonable, but the reality is oftentimes not the case...I'd be happy to give way...

Back Bencher: Can the deputy speaker expound on what kind of topical questions are appropriate then from back benchers and front benchers?

Deputy Speaker: I appreciate the question from my honorable friend, but the truth is that I think we've seen those who claim back bench status on issues, become front benchers on others. I'd be happy to give way...
Front Bencher: Would the deputy speaker care to comment on the lack of knowledge shown by speakers on topical questions.
Deputy Speaker: No, I would not care to comment on this topic. I think my honorable friend will agree that a degree of magnanimity should be shown to members given the number and variety of topical questions that members are expected to address...

That's right, folks: absolute chaos. There are people yea-ing and nay-ing, people in wigs, people voting by walking in and out of doors, people confronting each other (they're actually facing each other). Reaction from the Hubs?:

Total bliss. We left after the "topical question" debate, because frankly, the deputy speaker had me at "my honorable friend." I'd vote for that.

Westminster Abbey: Scarily Impressive

So the entrance fee to Westminster Abbey costs twelve pounds per person. After you properly calculate the exchange rate, that works out to be a million dollars. Wouldn't I rather buy a pastry with that money? So I suggested to the Hubs and Steen (of Turkey and Albania fame) that they go inside, while I did a couple laps-of-appreciation around the outside, and afterwards, they could just describe the interior of the church to me. I stared into their blank, description-relaying-challenged faces, and wondered what I was thinking to send two guys into a church with the expectation that they would use their never-tapped powers of detail to paint a decent picture for me. ("Uh, there's a cross?") The Hubs knew this would never work and said, "But you have to see Poet's Corner." And it was true. I had to see Poet's Corner, where Chaucer, Browning, and Dickens are buried. So that's how I actually went inside Westminster Abbey.

I was immediately rewarded for paying the entrance fee, because who was the voice for the audio guide? JEREMY IRONS. That's right, Uncle Scar himself. Had I known, I would've paid two million to get this (virtually) personal tour from Mr. Irons. (China flashback: I think all of you visitors to the Forbidden City remember the feeling of exhilaration when you first put on your headphones and heard Roger Moore's deep and classy voice steadily guiding your journey through the very foreign and often bewildering grounds.) And wouldn't you know, I also got to see all sorts of arched ceilings, tombs, famous chairs and things of the royal nature. In fact, it might've been a major highlight of our trip. Thank you, Poet's Corner and Jeremy Irons. And England, I guess.

Poppy Fields: Remembrance Day in front of Westminster Abbey

We arrived on Veterans Day, which is also known as Remembrance Day here. We noticed many people wearing poppies pinned to their lapels and shirts, which we didn't quite understand since we're ignorant Yankees. Finally, I asked a woman working at a museum why she was wearing a poppy. She said it was in honor of veterans, and that she wore hers to acknowledge her grandfather who died fighting in World War II in France. The poppies refer to the poem "In Flanders Fields" about the casualties in World War I: "In Flanders Fields the poppies blow/between the crosses, row on row." And so, the poppies. Hope everyone had a nice Veterans Day!

Portrait Restaurant: Everything is better wedged between desserts.

Yummy, but nothing too fancy at the National Portrait Gallery restaurant — just solid (modern) British fare, circle-and-ball dessert arrangements and a sweet view of the Eye and Nelson's Column.

Six dollar coffee? Yes, please.

I tried the Dark Cherry Mocha flavor, which was like drinking a melted pint of Ben & Jerry's Cherry Garcia. I wanted to barf. Maybe it's because we had eaten this right before: 

Okay, okay. Only the Hubs ate the English breakfast. I had a bagel with lox. I didn't realize this until I saw it on the menu but I so miss bagels. Someone bring bagels to Sofia!

Liberty: Featuring the fiercest clown mannequins of all time.

I had to check out Liberty of London, which carries "real nice stuff" and has practically no sale section. The Hubs thought this was an appropriate time to chill in a pub. Let's check out the window displays, shall we? (Since buying is not an option.)

If I looked this fine, I'd join the circus, too.

I want that scarf. That's a scarf, right?

Of course, I have to end on the ring leader holding the "Gay Deceiver Magic Box" because that's how all good times end.

At Chippy's: Bottle that gravy!

While waiting for the Korean restaurant across the street to open up (it was about 4 o'clock around Oxford Circus), the Hubs talked me into getting a "snack" at Chippy, a fish and chips joint. Now, I don't usually turn down fried food, but I really wanted my bowl of chigae and pahjun, and I didn't want anything fluffy taking up the reserved space in my stomach that was demarcated "Korean food here." But then I saw Chippy's menu, which included gravy, and which everyone knows won't fill you up because it's basically a liquid protein, right? Plus, the vinegar (above) cuts and probably burns up all the fat from the gravy, don't you think? I wasn't about to turn down this rare weight-loss opportunity. And the Hubs said we could get Dr. Peppers. This is how we ended up ordering a plate of fish and chips (this is the SMALL, by the way) right before dinner: 

The Hubs started laughing maniacally as he squirted the lemon all over the fish and splashing vinegar everywhere in what seemed to be a primal return to his Long John Silver days. But then the gravy came. When the waitress placed the cup in front of us, she made a point of looking at me and said, "This is only for dipping, okay?"

There was some serious double-triple-dipping and brainstorming about ways to get the gravy into a child's sippy cup so I could just drink it all day long while wandering through the museums. The waitress came back and told me that if I wanted, they would put it into a squirty condiment tube for me. But then it would be all awkward if I shot it into my mouth like a football player on the sidelines. Regardless, gravy-for-fries gets my Krazy Delicious stamp of approval. 

The Europeans are pretty excited, too!

It's nice when others are excited for us. 

Back from London: Turns out things are more Dickensian in Sofia

Christmas has come early. We returned from London to find the gas company turned on our heat! It's not quite reaching us on our floor yet, but at least there's the potential. London was so very fun and cheery (see above snowman float on Carnaby Street) and oddly sunny and mild. It gave us the opportunity to ruminate about all the similarities this great city shares with Sofia (that it doesn't also share with New York):

1. The high number of Bentleys 
   
2. The amount of prime time TV dedicated to soccer games
3. Prominent Russian ownership of property
   
4. Fog
   
5. They're both famous for umbrellas.
   

Over the next couple days I'll be posting absolutely riveting and relevant photos from our trip. These might or might not include: a gold Kate Moss statue, plates of food, stuffed bears dressed as beefeaters, and controversial sculptures taken from the pediment of the Parthenon in Athens. Until then, I give you this photo of my desk, which seems to have experienced an explosion, which I blame on the minor earthquake we experienced last night and this morning. Can you spot the monkey finger puppet?

Harold Pinter: Here we go again with the serious reading.

We bought tickets to the play "No Man's Land" which features not one but two Harry Potter stars. I'll give you a hint: it's not Daniel Radcliffe. (He's in that naked, horse-murderer play.) This one features the guy who plays Dumbledore and the snarly guy who really likes cats. Anyways, this isn't the issue...

I read the "Birthday Party," "The Room," and now, "No Man's Land." My problem: What is a tragi-com anyway? Something's funny until...seriously man, that's not funny. Where are all the grand dames? Where's the kindness of strangers? The girl with the lobotomy? When I read Pinter's plays, I mostly feel creeped-out. Is that the sign of a good tragi-com? Anyhow, we're seeing "No Man's Land," which is famous for being the Harold Pinter play that no one gets. Will let you know how that goes.

I'll be seeing you...in London!

Er, that would be Kate's Topshop Christmas '08 collection and not Kate herself. I probably didn't need to clarify, but in case you thought my life included hobnobbing with ruffly, pantsless people...you do know where I live, right? Though summertime in Sofia does offer something thrillingly similar to the above.

I'm most excited about all the Asian cuisine to be had in London. Go, immigrants! The Hubs and I have our meals planned out so we eat either Thai, Chinese, Korean, Japanese, Vietnamese, or Indian at each meal, save for two or three meals of fish and chips and other non-Asian-though-equally delicious-fare. Oh, ho, ho, there will be photos.

This little vacation will mark a nice break from the crack-like addiction I have developed for political blogs and news, which is sort of like following gossip, except it's approved by adults and society in general, though kind of just as annoying. How nice it will be to visit the museums, bookshops, parks and to finally (maybe, probably) see the inside of Parliament. Just as long as I don't get distracted by pesky, shiny, pretty things.

I'm kind of excited about that new puppy.

Barack Obama told his daughters, Sasha and Malia, in his first speech as President elect that they would be bringing a brand new puppy to the White House. Sweet! Remember, Obama, you promised. None of this wouldn't-a-turtle-be-easier-stuff when they ask for a St. Bernard. I always thought Socks-the-cat and Buddy-the-dog were the more interesting White House inhabitants anyway.

Now I don't want to say that Bulgaria predicted the winner before the actual elections, but mock elections in the far southeastern end of Europe are never ever wrong.

You better vote, Christina!

Yay, Election Day! Thank goodness for the Internet, which allows us to keep tabs on polls and tallies (and search for photos of animals dressed in patriotic garb before succumbing to the inevitable "Mommy Dearest" film clip).

Bulgaria is getting into the swing of things with mock U.S. elections, which were held yesterday in the towns of Karlovo and Banya. Obama won in both towns with 59.4% of the votes in Karlovo, and 65.7% in Banya. McCain received 40.6% in Karlovo and 34.3% in Banya. I think there was a higher voter turnout for these elections than for their own elections.

Since there's a five hour time difference, we'll be staying up all night to watch the results as they come in. By my calculations the polls on the east coast have already opened. Happy voting!

Happy Halloween from Bulgaria!

Hope everyone had a happy Halloween! I got my pink/purple Nerds fix — what about you? While it's not an officially recognized holiday in Bulgaria, people are starting to get into the spirit of things as demonstrated by the above iridescent gourd costume (thanks, Sarah) — they also offer basil and eggplant costumes. They love their fresh vegetables here! At work our Bulgarian colleagues geniusly carved a pumpkin that was throwing up its own pumpkin-seed-guts. We celebrated by drinking a scary amount of rakia.