Casa Amigos: The Road to New Taste Buds, and the “Magic Roundabout”: The Road to More Roads

"There’s no better time to try new things then when you’re surrounded by nothing but difference. "

About a month and a half ago I began driving on the opposite side of the street, steering wheel on the opposite side of the car, and, of course, seatbelt coming from the right, not the left, no matter how many times I grab for air. I first began venturing toward the post office; a short 5 minute drive down the narrow, crowded by hedges lanes that connect Commonwood to civilization. And then I slowly started to drive further and further away from the pub: Sainsbury’s for grocery shopping, Oscar’s for pizza, Watford for bowling. But today, I took the biggest leap any foreigner to British driving could ever imagine. I attempted the “Magic Roundabout” (pictured above). Roundabouts themselves are confusing enough. Where do I look? Which lane to I need to get into? Why is that guy honking at me and flipping me off? But the easy thing about a roundabout is that you stay toward the left. There’s no oncoming traffic, it’s strictly one way. That was what I though of all roundabouts…until I met one of two Magic Roundabouts in the entire world. Hemel’s Magic Roundabout is the connection to Hemel High Street, a.k.a. the movie theater, the mall, restaurants, and basically anything you’d enjoy on a day away from work. So, I attempted it. Being scared out of my mind while grabbing the keys to the Fiesta, I was pretty sure I’d chicken out and just stay in my room downloading episodes of “Gossip Girl” and “How I Met Your Mother”, but no, a day off means a day away from everything. And I really wanted a day off. After driving about 10 minutes, I had talked myself into it, I’m going shopping in Hemel and I’m going to make it through the Magic Roundabout, no problem. As I approached the unusual, circular mass of cars round and round and round (about), I realized the cars were going in both directions…around a roundabout. I turned down the radio, took a deep breath, and scooted closer and closer to the steering wheel. I stopped at the “Give Way” sign, let a few cars go by, and put the pedal to the metal…so to speak. I had just entered the Magic Roundabout. It’s tough to explain when roundabouts are so abnormal to the States, but basically, it’s a two-way roundabout with no rules. But I played it safe and creeped around the turns, playing packman on the middle lines, just in case I needed to take a sudden exit due to hyper-anxiety. But within 45 seconds, it was all over and I’d come to my exit and found the parking garage, and began my day off of shopping. I rewarded myself by spending half a paycheck on new clothes.
Yes, today I tried the Magic Roundabout and survived. And I also tried something else and lived to tell. I, Jill Garrett, ate a fajita from Casa Amigos filled with…peppers and tomatoes. That’s right. The pickiest eater in the world, the girl who had sworn off tomatoes and veggies (except carrots) ate something so out of character. And what’s crazier is that I enjoyed it. I actually just finished eating the remainder of the jalapenos that came in the small plastic cup. Who knew I was so daring? To put my taste buds at risk like that. But now for something my mouth will truly enjoy, a nice cold pint…of Ben and Jerry’s. (I had already had a pint of San Miquel’s with my Mexican food.)

Something that's not new to me, but new to Londoners, SNOW STORMS. It's unbelievably funny to listen to the Brits talk about the snow we had last week. It's all melted away now, but here are some photos.


And to be funny: I took this photo right outside the Hemel shopping center. If only it were missing that first "I". (I really can't get away from that town!)


More updates soon! xo's, jill

Calla Mallor, Majorca: 3 Days in Spain

"Spain is the last great country."
-Ernest Hemingway

Last Monday, I woke up at 6 am, ate a poptart, put on my scarf and fleece sweater, and grabbed my tightly packed bookbag: I was on my way to get my passport stamped once again. There were ten of us, and we all met in the pub. Half asleep, we managed to drive our way to Stanstead Airport, about an hour away from Cart and Horses. Our flight left at 11am and I had know idea what to expect of Majorca, Spain. It isn't mainland Spain, so I knew I wouldn't see Pamplona and the Running of the Bulls, or Barcelona and anything related to Picasso, or even Seville and whatever Seville is famous for. We had a two hour flight on Europe's cheapest airline: Ryanair. It's also the bumpiest and serves it's vodka in little baggies. But the views from the window seat made up for the dropping feeling in my stomach every time we hit turbulence (or was that the vodka?). We could see the circular roads in France, the Pyrenese Mountains that ride the border of France and Spain and their small villages nestled in each nook and cranny of the mountains, and we could see the beaches of Barcelona as we approached the sea (we didn't, however, get close enough to see if they were nude...sorry fellas). It really was one of the most beautiful plane rides I've ever taken.
Majorca is located in the Mediterranean Sea, halfway between Spain's coast and Italy's Sardinia island. It's best known for the popular city of Palma, which we didn't explore until our last day. As we landed in the Palma airport, though, I could already feel the heat of the sun, which I hadn't seen in awhile (yes, it really is rainy and cloudy in England most of the time) and in celebration, I immediately rolled up my jeans, put on a pair of flip flops, and broke out my aviator sunglasses. Oh, Holiday!
We drove (on the right side! Which was a nice homey feeling) for about an hour through the greens of Majorca, with views extending to the mountains and the sea. When we finally arrived to our all-inclusive resort in Cala Mallor, everyone was antsy to get our Staff Holiday started. I threw my bags in my room and immediately followed my fellow travelers to the bar, where I sipped the house cocktail outside until the sun set, listening to the crashing of waves nearly 20 yards away. There was no entertainment at the hotel that night, no big meals planned, it was simply a refreshing evening with good drinks and good company. I guess the only thing that ruined that was getting kicked out of the restaurant because my boss and one of the chefs, Ben, decided a food fight with ice cream would be fun...let's just say they had one to many tequilas...The end of the night came at around 3am at a casino down the street from our hotel. It was me and James, and we had become so jacked up on sugary, mixed drinks that we couldn't fall asleep. So we grabbed some of our Euros and began pushing buttons on the slots. Apparently they were all the wrong buttons, so we took the few coins we had left and enjoyed a game of pool, a couple arcade games that involved shooting zombies, and then had a go at the roulette table.
Slightly hungover and a few Euros short, we traveled early the next morning to Cuevas del Porto Cristo, a favorite vacation spot of Mozart, which explains the random opera we had to sit through in the middle of our caves tour. The caves were absolutely amazing, regardless of the 12 minute opera break. With the group photo taken at the exit of the caves, and the sound of Mozart echoing further and further away, we hopped in our Ford Focus' and began "Ian's drive to nowhere." The boss man, Ian, who thought he knew where he was going, ended up driving us through the narrowest of streets, down the steepest hills, and nowhere near beaches; the intended destination. But somehow, we did find ourselves at a lookout where we could see the meeting of beach, sea and sky. (Insert photo of me here) :)
As the day ended, we traveled back to our hotel where the bar awaited. I'd like to say that for that one evening, I managed to control myself, but when in Spain...
Tonight, though, something different: Gin and Tonics...and Champagne...and San Miquels...I know what you're thinking, "Jill, slow down" but in my defense, I wasn't the one with the worst hangover the next day. Those English sure like to drink...to top of our night, the hotel hosted a Bingo night for all the blue-hair Germans that joined us on our holiday. Just a note to anyone traveling to Majorca in Spain: There will be a lot of old people that like to sleep. (End tally of how many times management climbed the stairs to our room to tell us to "silencio, por favor": 4.5 The half is because we went down to the lobby and they didn't have to actually climb the stairs).
Anyway, the last day of our trip, we drove into Palma, home of a gigantic Cathedral (which is closed in the winter time, to our disappointment) and the 12th Century Castell De Bellver. The climb to the top of the castle was, well, harsh, considering everyone's alcoholic intake the night before, but to sit at the top and gaze upon the hustle and bustle of Palma with the contrasting easiness of the sea was refreshing.
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To finally get away from the pub (and the rainy, cloudy days!) and see all my coworkers away from the job, was the greatest thing about this trip. I was able to relax without worrying about screwing up an order (which I don't do often) or breaking a wine glass (which actually does happen often) and just drink on the beaches of Calla Mallor, Majorca. My first trip outside of England, but definitely not my last. An update on my month of June I'll have to explore before coming home: I've already booked a spot on a tour with Topdeck Tours (tours for 18-35 year olds) to get me from London, through Paris, the French Rivearia, all of Italy, sailing the coast of Greece and Croatia, through Austria, Prague, Amsterdam, then back to London in time for Wimbledon at the end of June! But they're will be loads more between now and then! Talk to everyone soon! XO's, jill

Never Eat a British Burger

Mele Kalikimaka! (It's the thing to say on a bright, Hawaiian Christmas day).

Christmas in England was all I thought it was going to be. There was lots of food, lots of drinks, and lots of hugs and kisses. It was a lot of fun! I also had my first experience with a Christmas cracker. It's a tacky, but fun, present that two people pull on the ends of and it, well, "cracks"! It's filled with little toys and prizes. Think of a pinata, but with a British accent. After the Christmas cracking and turkey eating, everyone played "Britain's Got Talent" the board game. It's safe to say that I have no talent, and I'm not British (all because I didn't know the theme song to the popular British TV show "Dr. Who"). While I wasn't at home in Kansas, in the freezing temperatures and feet of snow, being in England for "Father Christmas", as they call Santa, and Cadbury chocolate eating wasn't so bad. Playing catch with an electric-shocking bouncing ball and having people explain Christmas puddings and mincemeat pies, made Christmas a fun day. I hope everyone else was able to enjoy it as much as I did!

As for today, two days after Boxing day, we closed early on a Sunday roast day, and six of us employees were able to enjoy a Co-worker Christmas party, minus the bosses. Nikkola, James, Ben, Andy and his girlfriend Ashley, and I went to the city of Watford and enjoyed a nice game of bowling. Not just bowling...COSMIC bowling! And not just cosmic bowling...DRUNK cosmic bowling! We each bought a round of drinks as we bowled our hearts out. So, after stumbling through 10 frames, we played once more, and drank more, and enjoyed the night off. After the bowling/drinking (I went all six rounds...of drinking. But barely scored 100 in the bowling portion of the evening), we hopped across the street to a nice, little chain restaurant. When I heard "Great American food" I immediately thought, "Thank god! A Burger!" Because, let's be honest, that's all I've been craving. So, with pizza's ordered, and onion rings, and pasta's, I put in my order for a bacon cheeseburger, no mayo. It's got to be good, right? Wrong. Not only did they put mayo on my burger, which was later nixed from our bill, because of the screw up, but it also didn't have the same juiciness and the same beautiful taste that is a great American burger. It tasted more like sausage than anything. So, managing to eat nearly a 1/4 of the burger, I sat it down, and sulked in the disappointing moment. I guess it'll be another 5 1/2 months before I taste another succulent burger from home. Be sure to line them up for me.

Outside of the burger, my co-worker Christmas party was very much needed. Working and living in the same building doesn't allow much time to get out, but tonight I did, and it was more fun than the past few days combined! Hopefully I'll get more days like this.
Oh, and one more Christmas present the staff received: 3 days in Mallorca, Spain January 12-15. That will be a great vacation!
Everyone eat a burger for me!
xo's,
jill

Thank (Cadbury) Crunchie it's Friday!

I'd like to introduce you to my new friend. His name is "Crunchie" and he has a chocolate outside with a golden honeycomb center. He can be found in aisle 13 at the Sainsbury's Supermarket in King's Langley, just a short drive from here. When I first heard of the Crunchie, I was told it was going to be one of the best candy bars I'd ever eaten. Ever eaten? I was skeptical, considering I was a connoisseur of fatty, chocolatey goodness, so I immediately had flashbacks of pre-teen years, grasping melty Butterfingers or Kit-Kats on hot Kansas summer days. Or, Hershey bars and Snicker's spread out along a floor after a chilly night of trick-or-treating, roaming house to house as a sugar-crazed 10 year old ghost. Surely this Crunchie couldn't quite encompass all the happiness that comes wrapped in a candy bar. It must just be some British fraud dressed as a candy bar, but actually containing calves liver and blood pudding with some hokey accent proclaiming "Aye-ya!" as it walks into a room and "Cheers!" as it leaves. But with one, slow, no-pun-intended 'crunchy' bite, I embraced the British candy bar and began to reminisce of a first week of pub work; George, a local, buying me a vodka and coke after my first order screw-up, William, the 17 year old dishwasher forcing me to eat my first mincemeat pie without actually telling me there's no meat in it, and Thomas the cat sleeping on my bed nearly every night, keeping my feet warm during the cold English nights. Although it gets stuck in teeth and adds 7 grams of fat to my belly, the Crunchie bar is in fact, one of the best candy bars I've ever eaten. The jury is still out on the mincemeat pie, however.

xo's from London,
jill

My Jilly Lies Over the Ocean...

"Well, when you're down on your luck, and you ain't got a buck, in London you're a goner."- Jimmy Buffett "London Homesick Blues"

Today I spent about 20pound just on transportation in/around/out of London. But where I felt I wasted money, I also managed to save, believe it or not. My dinner for 1 at Piazza (some fake Italian restaurant near Covent Garden) was only 10pound. And it was actually good! Covent Garden was by-far the highlight of my day. That's not saying a lot, considering it was the only place I was actually able to visit. But after 2 hours in a small, hot room, setting up my bank account with about a dozen Australians and New Zealanders (Aussies and Kiwis, I believe) I was ready to get out and actually see London. So, at the advise of my co-workers, Covent Garden it was.
On the short walk from the bank meeting to the garden, I was able to ponder (is that a British word? Sounds like it) topics that had confused me all day on Thursday. A) The Aussie girl I work with kept telling me it's "bitterly cold" in London "at least -1'." I'm smart enough to know the -1 was in Celsius and just below 32'F. But when I walked around London, it really wasn't that cold. So, when I got back to the pub, I asked the Aussie where in Australia she's from. "Just outside Melbourne. The coldest it gets is 8'." That explains why she said it was so cold she couldn't breathe. I think maybe there should be a reality TV show that gives away $1 million to the first Aussie that can stand 20 minutes in a midwestern winter day. B) On the topic of Aussies/Kiwis;they're everywhere! On the underground, I kind of felt like maybe I flew to the wrong country and somehow ended up in Oceania. My new game on the tube is "spot the Aussie/Kiwi" It's really easy. They're usually the one's that think it's way too cold to live. And C) People drink a lot here. Probably about as much as a 19 year old Frat boy in Kansas. But they don't get out of hand. They just start talking really loud and laughing at everything, even at the lack of Cider (an alcoholic drink that is like Apple Cider, but for those legal to drink) in America. I tried one and it is actually a good drink. "A dangerous booger," said the local Baldy Paul. He's bald, hence the nickname.
The only other thing I did today was see Parliament and the London Eye. It was night, so everything was lit up and Shops had Christmas lights everywhere. My take on London: so far, just that there are tons of people. It's really a nice place. It's kind of like Chicago, but with less homeless people and, well, 6 million more people.

Oh, and a note about Jet-lag: it's kind of like a bad hangover, but you remember everything that happened the night before; you flew a total of 8 hours, watched the in-flight movie "The Sound of Music", midway through the headphones breaking so you repeated each line in your head (because you're crazy like that) and then you didn't sleep at all, because the jerk behind you was poking your chair.

But don't worry, I'm over it. Especially after I found out they're filming the last Harry Potter film down the street. Literally, down the street. I can see Hagrad's house! Maybe I will meet Ron Weasley...

xo's,
jill

Destination Details!

"Somebody told me the last word they heard her say was England. Somebody said that she mentioned the airline and the fare."-Jimmy Buffett

I finally got an email with my job description and pub location. The owners even asked for my flight information so they could pick me up from Heathrow. What British hospitality! The pub is called Cart and Horses and is located 35 minutes north of central London, which will give me tons of London bonding time and I'll be sure to let the Queen Mum know she can leave Buckingham Palace for a spot of tea with me if she pleases. After reading up on the small (very small) village of Commonwood, Hertfordshire, the locale of the Cart and Horses, I've been able to find a few interesting facts: there is a zoo about ten minutes away, a few castles, some lakes, and according to google maps there are about 7 tennis courts within 1 mile from where I'll be, and apparently Rupert Grint's (you know him as Ron Weasley from "Harry Potter") hometown is somewhere around there, too. I suppose that's a good start. And I attached the only two photos I could find of the pub. It must be one of those "best kept secrets of Northern London" pubs. Or maybe it's just in a small town with little internet access and no human interaction. I hope it's the former.













Stay tuned, I'll be there soon! So I guess I'll have more to say than "I hope I see Ron Weasley."
--jill

Testing...

It's bloggy time! Well, not quite. With England coming up soon, I thought I'd share my attempt to acclimate myself to UK customs by speaking the ever-infamous Cockney (a British slang language made up in the 19th C. by crooks so they could speak in front of police without being understood):

"Wif me trip ter england comin' soon, i'll be writin' on me blog a Hoppin' Pot more often so that I won't 'ave ter Dog and Bone Pope in Rome ter Rabbit and Pork ter everyone. the blog will be absolutely amazin' and will be the 'ighlight of your sunny day!"


P.S. I may have used google to find a Cockney Rhyming Translator to make sure I was more accurate with phrases. I didn't make this up.

Peace out, cub scouts,
jill