Saturday, May 30, 2015

She Sells Windbreaks by the Seashore


WARNING contains: me, french fried potato chips, gross generalizations about whole countries of people, fast cars, weather, steamed mussels, cows and ice cream. 

Recently, my family went 'on holiday' to Northern Cornwall in the hopes my husband could relive a bit of his childhood and take our boys rock pooling. For those unfamiliar with the British coast, let me explain that there are three kinds of beaches. There are pebble ones, sandy ones, and rocky/sandy combos. There are also cliffs. Lots of cliffs. The coast here is often very dramatic. The land just ends. Drops off into sea and craggy outcroppings of pointy hard things. It's fairly spectacularly beautiful. But it isn't relaxing per se. Not a coast line that screams "come, lie down, relax, and have a drink." Not that every beach needs to be a soft place for drunken sun worship, there's a time and a place for gorgeous geology porn. 

North Cornwall has all three kinds of beach. I particularly enjoyed one where a steep decent led to a rocky area that also had a lovely sandy stretch at low tide. It reminded me a lot of the coast line in Goonies aka the American North West. And at every beach we went to there were some opportunities for rock pooling otherwise known as staring into pools or tepid salt water and shoving nets and sticks at things. We poked a lot of limpets, found several anemones, spotted retreating crabs, and admired large groups of mussels (which made my hub and I hungry quite frankly). 

It is the end of May and in most of the US this means summer. But in the UK it is still sorta spring and the temperatures even in the far south of the country are by no means sweaty. The warmest day was about 68F. This does not stop Brits from dressing and acting like it is summer at the seaside though. On one beach, where my family and I were all in windbreakers and long pants, I saw people in bathing suits, bikinis included, and shorts/t-shirts. Then again, many people also had set up windbreaks. If you don't know what this is, it is essentially a long strip of plastic with sticks at intervals that one can set up in a semi-circle (or nearly a full circle for the privacy driven) to shield you and your family/friends from the cool, relentless blowing wind off the sea. Perhaps in there it feels much warmer. But these only work on the sandy beaches. I saw a few people making do with them sort of propped up by rocks on one rocky beach. More often though, on the rocky beaches, people put down towels, lie down, and then proceed to pretend that they are some how comfortable. It is astonishing to see someone lying on rocks, cigarette in hand, lounging as though they might be totally relaxed while rocks jut in to their every bone and muscle. 

One thing they've got going for them though is that there is ice cream everywhere. At one point, I could see four different ice cream dispensaries. That's dedication to dairy my friends. Which isn't hard because I also saw in excess of a thousand cows over four days. 

In one seaside village, that's known as a foodie spot, I was told there would a forty minute wait to sit at the locally famous fish and chips place. I didn't wait. Not because I had to two hungry kids but because whilst I'm sure it was good, I cannot image fried fish and potato to be worth such a lengthy wait. I've waited forty minutes for profiteroles that literally made me cry with delight. I've waited forty minutes for all you can eat crab legs. But I've never waited that long for food readily available on the high street of every village in Britain. Ok, maybe if they'd had hushpuppies, I'd have at least gotten take out!

Things overheard:
At a remote tea house on a cliff, miles from anywhere, a woman asked, "Do you do chips?" When she was told they did not, she asked if anywhere nearby did. I found this hysterical for numerous reasons. The Brits and their chips. The idea that you'd come all the way out to a wild, remote beach only to be foiled for lack of fried potato. And the knowledge that the British think anything over a two hour drive is half a day's journey when many American commute that distance TWICE a day. The closest chips would be a twenty minute drive. 

A conversation across a local cafe between scruffy old men about Formula One racing. I didn't understand half of what they said but it made me smile because if they'd just been talking about NASCAR, it could've been the North Carolina coast instead. 

Some pre-teens talking about the weather. Not tv or film. Not celebrities or video games. Grousing about the timing of the rain, the type of rain, the slant of the rain like old people. I guess the British can discuss the weather, in depth, at any age. 

Not an overheard thing, but I spent a lot of the trip trying to figure out how to say the names of places. Growing up in America, I took for granted that Cherokee is pronounced CHAIR-oh-Kee. I giggled at foreigners twisting it every which way but "right,"  Just as I was laughed at when I assumed that Tintagel would be pronounced Tint-AH-gail or gull rather than the "right" way of Ten-TAH-gle. I like place names in Cornwall. Lots of them sound like pirate insults - you Pendogett, Budey, Pounstocker! 


Overall, I now understand why the Brits love a Florida holiday the way so many Americans love to go to the Bahamas or Mexico. It's far warmer, softer, and closer to chips. 

Monday, May 4, 2015

A Very Merry (British) Birthday to You!

WARNING contains: cake, ice cream, parcels, napkins, nostalgia, hindsight, delusions, and a bit of woe.

British Birthday parties are odd to me. Or perhaps just the ones I've been to. But having been to six or so, I'm going to call myself expert and move forward in my ignorance.

First, there's "pass the parcel," a game wherein a present is wrapped in numerous layers of paper and often sweets (they say "sweeties", bless their hearts) or little prizes are inserted between the layers; sometimes in each layer and sometimes at random. It is a bit like hot potato or musical chairs in that music plays while the parcel is passed and when it stops, whomever is holding the package takes a layer off. This game is filled with stress and awkwardness. More to the point, everyone knows the birthday child will get the real present in the end. For me, this game causes the gnashing of teeth and pondering the sanity of the person who did the wrapping. Oh and my hub wants it known that he thinks we don't play this game in America because it doesn't rhyme in Amuhrican.

Then there's the not opening presents. On the one hand, I see the wisdom and the cultural difference at play. God forbid a child open a gift and exclaim that they don't want another stupid book. But on the other hand, I kinda like seeing the kid open stuff. The problem in America is when there's WAY too much stuff. And this could be a problem in the UK too as a number of parties I've been to post my oldest starting school the parents have invited the entire class of kids (that's 30 kiddos who frequently bring siblings). What we do in the USA is keep family presents out of the party presents. We open those separately. We also threaten our children with pain of death if they so much as look disappointed in a present from a guest.

The most ponderous thing though is the birthday cake. Or rather the lack of it. Oh no, they do bring out a cake and sing; they're not beasts. But once candles are blown out the cake is whisked away. Then it is cut into slices which are individually wrapped in a napkin then placed in a party bag or or stacked neatly on a tray by the door. The left over bits are then passed around the grownups as each gets a little bite of the cake. There may even be an extra cake lying in wait just for the proper number of slices. I've asked around and no one seems to know exactly when this started or why. Some suppose it was 1930s decadence that left no room in wee tummies for cake. A few guess at a post-WWII-rationing thing when perhaps the cake might have been so precious one would want to send it home so each family member might have a taste.

If you're British and reading this I'm here to beg you to stop crushing the joy of childhood birthday parties.* I have such wonderful memories of getting a too-large square (often American cakes are more like a tray bake and so the 'slices' are squares) of cake as I rocked in a rickety plastic chair and squirmed with excitement to see if there might be ice cream too. A little plate of cake with some unnatural shade of frosting being subsumed by a rapidly melting scoop of chemically flavored vanilla ice cream. Heaven quite frankly. Oh then there was that heavenly invention - the store-bought, crisco based icing lathered, ice-cream cake that if not left to properly thaw had to be chainsawed into pieces. These are what birthday dreams are made of - cake and presents people!

Now you may be asking yourself if these barbarians feed their guests at all and rest assured they do. This little luncheon tradition may be in fact, as mentioned above, the reason for the sending home of cake. Because while at an afternoon party in America guests would never expect more than snacks (PLUS CAKE!), here a wee smorgasbord is the norm. The following will be present at every party (except the one I threw last year because I just didn't know! I'm sorry!!): ham and butter sandwiches, cheese or jam sandwiches that will also have butter, mini-sausages and/or sausage rolls, some form of potato chip/crisp/shaped product, cheese, grapes or easy peel oranges, juice boxes, and some fairy cakes (these are cupcakes with minimal icing) and/or biscuits/cookies. Note the number of little squares of sandwich available will far exceed the guest list. No idea why. They aren't even good sandwiches really and I've confirmed this fact with parents. They are meant to be "child friendly" foods, nothing too...flavorful.

As for what the kids do, there's often a bouncy castle or someone in charge of games. One recent party had a conga line. Another had a magician who did a show in two parts on either side of the snacks and candle blowing out. Because they're so many kids, they can be rather cacophonous affairs. I'm already dead set against inviting every kid in eldest's class for that reason. That number of kids is overwhelming for him and it means the autism spectrum kid in his class can't participate because the noise it too much for him (though bless his parents, they bring him to every single one just to try and end up sitting outside with him).

Now, I'm not going to get in to the Party Princess/Clown/Magician phenomenon because it's really not much different in the US. More and more people want someone else to entertain the hoards of children at a birthday party rather than the stress of doing it themselves. I concur. American parties have become, in some circles, very elaborate and competitive affairs in recent years. So some sad sandwiches and cake with paper glued to it without the pressure of acting overjoyed at every gift is in some ways a relief and, dare I say it, quaint. But I also have this little sad part of me that wants my kids to have the kind of parties I had as a kid. You usually invited your best friends to do something special with you at your house or someplace exotic like McD's or the bowling alley. I had a fair few parties at home. We played games or just ran around a playground and ate at picnic tables.

None of the above is criticism, really. I have yet to go to a party that my kid didn't enjoy once the initial shock wave of noise washed over him. When I've compared notes with British parents about parties, we each like some things about the other tradition and we all agree that "pass the parcel" is torture and should be forgotten. So at the next birthday party I throw, I'm going to mix things together I think**. Invite maybe 10 kids to a playground near our house in the afternoon and give them cake and snacks but take the presents home to unwrap later. I might even make a few sandwiches.


*It has occurred to me that because of the ready availability and consumption of iced pastries and cakes in everyday British life that a birthday cake is not a big deal. Childhood here is marked by regular cake consumption! Also, every birthday cake I've had here is of the store-bought, fondant covered variety. At the time I didn't understand, but now I see why the parents at a party I threw last year were so delighted by my homemade cake. It was a really tasty cake, like you'd get at a tea house, rather than a cake for show. We have those in America too, but no self-respecting Southern Mama would let her child's birthday pass without baking them a cake even if it's from a box mix!

**UPDATE: I ended up doing an indoor, bouncy castle party at 11am and having brunch foods for grown-ups plus s few snacks (sausage rolls and fruit) then doling out squares of chocolate cake with chocolate icing to children who asked for more. The adults thanked me so many times for feeding them and not just the kids I lost count. I took the presents home still wrapped and my kid didn't mind at all. Hybrid, cross-pond parties y'all. It's the way forward.