Our Yankee Food Paranoia

February 5, 2009 By

(cross-posted at domestic father)

While we were in England, we stayed with some friends in Oxford. Simon and Simone (not their real names) have put us up in their lovely home every Thanksgiving for the past few years. Air travel within the US during that week is something we try to avoid, but extending the long weekend into a week’s vacation is a nice way to get away, so it’s become a bit of a tradition.

When we packed, we left out any baby food because we knew it could cause problems with airport security. (The idea of tasting it to prove it was edible was more than either Sally or I could stomach.) When we arrived in Oxford, our first task was to find a supermarket so CJ could have some solids for breakfast and dinner. We asked our hosts which market would be most likely to carry baby food.

“You could try Boots,” said Simone. “And there’s always Marks & Spencer. Both of them should have it.”

Simon was on his way out the door, but he stopped to say, “Why don’t we just boil some carrots and mash them up for her here. It’ll take no time at all.”

“Well,” I replied, “apparently certain foods are better to buy as baby food.”

“Oh,” said Simon, who is an MD, “why is that?”

“I guess that root vegetables, like carrots, tend to absorb more nitrates from the soil. The baby food manufacturers select carrots that are grown in low-nitrate soil.”

“Really. Where did you hear this?” Simon is one of the more skeptical people I know, and I saw a grin encroaching on his cheeks.

“Our doctor. She told us specifically to use jarred carrots.” That should satisfy him.

“And why, exactly, are nitrates bad?”

“Umm…. I dunno.”

His grin widened. “You Yanks are so paranoid about food. Just mash something up and give it to her.”

“I’ll be honest, Simon. If our doctor tells us it’s better to just open a jar than to go through the trouble of preparing it ourselves, I’m not really going to argue with her.”

And that, I suppose, is the real reason. I’m lazy, and being told by an authority figure that the lazy thing to do is the right thing to do was so satisfying. Unfortunately, it also meant I wasn’t thinking for myself, and it was causing a bit of an inconvenience for us.

We had been feeding CJ single ingredient jars, such as carrots, or apples, or sweet potatoes. Our doctor told us it was better to do it this way, as it is easier to identify which foods might cause an allergic reaction.

When we got to the market, we saw that the baby food in England is a bit different from ours in the States. English baby food is not quite so monochromatic. Where we were used to seeing “Carrots” or “Apples,” we were now looking at jars of Pasta Itallienne with Ham, Lancashire Hotpot, and Mum’s Own Recipe Sunday Chicken Dinner.

Though we ultimately settled on some jars of mixed vegetable and mixed fruit, it did make me reconsider our doctor’s advice. Why not just boil some carrots or sweet potatoes and mush them up at home? What are nitrates, why are they bad, and in what quantities are they bad?

Next post: Nitrates, Nitrites, and Baby Food

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Ye Olde Pram Shoppe

January 15, 2009 By

(cross-posted at domestic father)

Sally, CJ, and I recently spent some time in England. While there, we wanted to look at some strollers. The dollar was strong, and CJ is quickly out-growing her current MacLaren-Graco hybrid. Apparently, there are a few European models that Sally thought would work well, and we might be able to get them for less than we could here.

Just before we left, reader Tim Lovell pointed me to an article on the BBC website that he found to be curious. The lead-in was typically sensational:

Children who are put in buggies which leave them facing away from their parent could have their development undermined, a study has suggested.

Though we currently use a parent-facing stroller, it is purely by accident: it was the only one we could find that accommodated our Graco infant car seat. But, of course, I was ready to read something that would assure me that our purely random decision had been the best for CJ. This was not the article for such assurances.

While I will not do a complete dissection of the study (Esther at Mainstream Parenting Resources has already done a brilliant job of that), I thought one of the quotes from the lead researcher was telling.

If babies are spending significant amounts of time in a baby buggy that undermines their ability to communicate easily with their parent, at an age when the brain is developing more than it will ever again in life, then this has to impact negatively on their development.

She seems to have reached a conclusion, and decided to conduct a study to support it.

Armed with this study and my skepticism, I was now ready to go pram shopping. Or buggy shopping. Or is it push-chair shopping? I never did get that right while we were there, the differences between prams, buggies, push-chairs, and strollers. Just when I thought I had it, someone would politely correct me with one of the other terms, causing me to just give up and call them strollers while pushing my fists back and forth in front of me.

In Oxford, we headed to a store that had been recommended by friends. I was wary when we walked in, thinking that we would be upsold to a parent-facing stroller because of this study. As Tim said to me in his email,

I think the only buggies that can be configured for face-to-face, at least in the UK, are made by Bugaboo and these are very expensive. I’ve got one and it cost more than my first car!

What an excellent opportunity to sell concerned parents the more expensive stroller! I was ready for her, though.

After some confusion about what we wanted to see, ultimately resolved by my two-fisted pantomime, the saleswoman showed us to the strollers. Sally found one she liked, one she knew wasn’t sold in the US, and asked to see it. The woman handed Sally a catalog, turned to the proper page, then took the demo model down from the high shelf. It was pink.

“Does it come in a color other than pink?”

“Oh, yes,” answered the woman, leaning in to point at the catalog. “It also comes in black, silver, and wozzabee.”

Wozzabee? Sally must have noticed my eyebrows were in the middle of my forehead, for she gently whispered into my ear,

“Wasabi.”

Oh, green. OK. I like green. For some reason I was picturing some sort of boomerang pattern.

More important than the color, though, this stroller was front-facing, away from the parent. Sally liked it, I liked it, but they didn’t have the color we wanted.

“Well, we do have some others that are similar to that one,” said the saleswoman.

Here it comes, I thought, she’s going to upsell us to the parent-facer.

She stopped in front of a forward-facer. “This one has all of the same features and is actually a bit cheaper.”

Cheaper? Maybe she hadn’t heard of the study.

“Did you hear about the study they recently did in Scotland?” I asked. “Apparently some researcher found that the buggies that make the baby face the parent are supposedly better for children because they foster parent-child communication.”

She smiled back at me, relaxing a little bit. In a succinct statement, worthy of the greatest of skeptics, she said,

“I suppose they’ve got to study something, haven’t they?”

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Bags Are Home

November 28, 2007 By

At 10:23pm tonight, I got a call from the baggage delivery service, telling me he was around the corner. I went outside to meet him, and was stunned to discover that both of our bags were in his van, and appeared to be intact.

A couple of my books got pretty thrashed, but all in all, everything seems to have made it in one piece.

It will be a long, long time before I travel by air again.

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Day 10, Home Again, Home Again

November 27, 2007 By

After 5 blissful hours of sleep, disturbed only by dreams of lost bags and unforgiving gate agents, we arose before dawn, showered and caught the 6am shuttle back to Dulles. Easy time getting through security, and we arrive at the gate by 7am. There, we ask about our bags. One of the gate agents shows no sympathy and merely tells us our bags will get to La Guardia when they get there. The other makes an announcement for all of the other passengers who may have similar concerns about their own baggage. A few minutes later, another passenger goes up to the agent who made the announcement and asks her what she just said.

“Didn’t you hear me?” said the agent.

“Actually I was on the phone.”

“Oh. You were on the phone. I see.” She smiles curtly. Then she repeats what she had announced.

Boarding began on time, and while they were boarding the First Class passengers, this same gate agent stopped a young Asian man who was attempting to board with the First Class passengers. He was dressed a little bit “street”.

“Excuse me, sir. You have to wait until the next boarding call.”

He paused, looked at her uncertainly, then looked at his ticket. He started to back away from the podium.

“Are you in First Class?” she asked skeptically.

“Yeah,” he said, handing her his First Class ticket.

No apology from the agent, she just scooted him on to the plane.

When we finally get on to the plane, it pulls away from the jetway at 8:15am, right on time. Then we sit on the tarmac. The pilot tells us that Air Traffic Control at La Guardia is holding us on the ground at Dulles, due to high winds in La Guardia. They have closed all runways at LGA except one, which means all departing and arriving aircraft must use the same runway. The pilot emphasizes, too many times, that this is not a problem caused by United.

At 9:30am, the pilot announces that we have been cleared for takeoff. The engines start up and it feels like we’re about to move. Then the engines shut down. The pilot comes back on the PA and says that ATC has rescinded our clearance, and we have to wait again. He also makes some comment about the questionable competence of ATC. Yeah.

We can see out the windows on the right side of our plane a small Chataqua plane with the United logo. This is the 7:35am flight that S was originally booked on, and the plane where we believe our luggage to be. At 9:45am, the pilot comes back on the PA to tell us that we have to be moved to another runway, as the one we’re on needs to undergo some sort of repair. We taxi to the other runway, losing sight of the Chataqua craft and our luggage.

We take off soonafter our change of runways, and arrive at La Guardia at 11:00am. While walking to baggage claim, S gets a text message that the 7:35am Chataqua flight was canceled. Along with our luggage.

We go to Baggage Claim, and immediately go to the office area. Mr Chiu tells us that S’s bag is still at Dulles, but mine somehow got routed to Norfolk (Virginia, I hope fervently, not England). We get in a cab and just head home.

At 7:30pm, our bags still have not arrived, and someone at United’s phone center in Manila tells me that both of our bags should be at La Guardia, as mine was re-routed on another airline, and S’s was scanned at LGA at 2:45pm. Call back in 2 hours, and they will have an answer for me.

9:30pm, and I call Manila again. He tells me to call back in 2 hours and they’ll have something for me, or I can check the website. When I tell him the website is useless, as it still tells me they cannot locate our luggage, and at least when I talk to someone in Manila, they can give me little more detail, he tells me to give them 2 more hours. I point out that no progress was made in the last two hours, and can I please just talk to someone at La Guardia, he tells me that is not possible. I ask him what I can do to expedite the process, he tells me to check the website in a couple of hours.

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Day 9, London & Dulles

November 26, 2007 By

S and I had wanted to bring back some of the Marks and Spencer special Strawberry and Champagne conserve. We had tried some in Oxford and loved it, but did not purchase any there, thinking all of the stores in London would have it. None that we checked did, so S called the one on Edgware Road this morning, and they had some in stock. So, with three hours before we had to leave for the airport, we headed to Royal Oak station. Little did we know that they were having “severe delays” on the Hammersmith & City line eastbound. We waited on the platform for a half hour, and I told S that if we did not see the train approaching at 11:34, we would have to abort the mission. We saw the train at 11:33:47, so we made it there and back in less than a half hour.

Returned home to pack, then caught a minicab to Heathrow. Arrived with plenty of time and spoke with a wonderful agent named Pam who sorted out my seat assignment. Apparently a big muckety-muck customer wanted my seat, and the agents at La Guardia were more than happy to oblige. Pam straightened it all out, and we both got our original seats back.

But, our troubles were only beginning. Arrived at Dulles at 8pm, only to discover that our connecting flight to La Guardia had been canceled, and we were booked on the next flight out in the morning. Seeing that there was another flight to JFK, we decided to uncheck our bags and try to fly standby on that one. Unfortunately, at Dulles, after Customs, you have to re-enter security, at which point S was stopped for carrying liquid food products, the very same conserve we got at M&S this morning. I made it through with no problem.

Stuck in the “Clean Zone” we could neither take our bags out nor re-check them unless we were going to be on the same flight with them. S went back into the clean zone and re-checked her bags on the next morning’s flight. I decided to do the same, but removed my dopp kit so I would have a toothbrush and shampoo in the morning. Unfortunately, this time through, just 10 minutes after it had previously cleared security, my dopp kit did not make it through, and I was lectured about liquids. The security agent also confiscated a mini-leatherman tool that had made it through untold number of previous security screenings, then handed me a plastic bag and told me to put all of my liquids in it. Rather than protesting or asking why, I complied and moved along. (Keep in mind, she asked me to do this after I had passed through security, so the reason for putting it in the plastic bag at this point is still unknown to me.)

On to the Red Carpet Club, where we attempt to verify our flights and secure lodging for the night. There we discover that we have been booked on different flights in the morning, and the airline will not cover our hotel, as it was a weather-related problem. Get both of us on the 8:15am flight, but it means I have to cancel two client meetings scheduled for tomorrow.

We head out of the airport to wait for the hotel shuttle. A sign directs us to our left, and we follow it for about a hundred yards. We exit the terminal, only to discover that outside, we must now walk back the hundred yards to the spot where hotel shuttles pick up passengers. Wait another half hour for the shuttle, then finally arrive at the hotel at 10:30pm.

As we check in, we are told shuttles to the airport leave every hour on the hour. We would like to get one at 6:45am. Sorry, you will have to take the 6am shuttle. Oh and by the way, there is a complimentary breakfast served from 6-9am. But our shuttle leaves at 6am. Oh, then sorry, you will not be able to have the breakfast.

Get to our room, only to discover that it is situated directly behind the elevators, and every time one is used, a tremendous rumbling vibration runs through the entire room. Back down to the front desk, where we are asked, what kind of a noise is it? A loud one, we say, as if it matters at all, and are eventually re-assigned to a different room.

Got in to Dulles at 8pm, and have just now settled in to bed at 11:25pm. I can only hope tomorrow brings us better luck.

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Day 8, London

November 25, 2007 By

My cold got much worse during the night, but I still managed to get up early enough to head down to Westminster Pier. We were going to try to see the Thames Barrier, but when we got there, we were told that they only went there during summer months. Would have been nice if their website had said as much.

So we walked along the Victoria Embankment, and cut up to Trafalgar Square. I wanted to see St Martin of the Fields church, but they were closed for renovation. Strike two.

Walked up Charing Cross Road, had a late breakfast, and then headed for the book stores. Though I had done it before, I again took the opportunity for # 17 – Go used book shopping in London, and picked up 4 more books, including a £1 Compleat Angler from one of the bins outside, and a few more natural history books.

Stopped for a pint at the Sherlock Holmes pub (exactly what you would expect) and then headed home.

When we got home, S discovered that United had bumped my seat assignment, and I no longer had the ample legroom seat we had reserved and confirmed in August. Instead, I was merely confirmed on the flight with no seat assignment. It being after 5pm on a Sunday, all the local United offices were closed, and our calling card did not work to US 800 numbers. S had to call a friend in the States to conference call a US United representative. Apparently, someone decided that I didn’t merit the seat with ample legroom and bumped me. They say it might have been for an air marshal, but she could neither confirm nor deny…..

S got me a middle seat in the Economy Plus section, adequate legroom, but wedged in between two other strangers. Should be fun with my cold and all. I bet they’ll love sitting next to me.

Went for our last dinner to the Durbar, and then to the internet cafe so I could upload my novel to Google as a backup. Am up to 48,200 words, and hoping to finish on the flight.

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Day 7, London

November 24, 2007 By

Went to bed last night and could not fall asleep. It felt like someone was wringing the air out of my lungs, and the wheezing in my chest was so bad that the sound of it in my ears kept me awake. The Tylenol PM I had in my dopp kit was probably expired and therefore did nothing for me.

Woke this morning around eleven, and felt a little better. The cough had become productive, and my chest was far less tight. Decided I was able to go out for a bit, so we ate breakfast in and headed to the British Museum. On a Saturday.

The British Museum has been one of my favorite places in London since I started coming here a few years ago. However, I had previously only been on a weekday. Saturdays are quite different. The crowds were almost overwhelming in the main galleries, so we went up to the new acquisition room on the fourth floor. Much more subdued up there.

While there, I tried to test my new way of looking at art. Appreciate the piece first, then look at the placard. First thing I began to notice is that English placards for fine art are much different than American ones. In addition to artist, medium, dates, and production notes, we get the following:

The closed eyes in the upper portrait suggest death or sleep; those below are partially open. The ambiguity between life and death gives the work its haunting power.

Kiki Smith, Two

Not only are they telling us relevant biographic information, but they are now telling us how we should interpret it. I am surprised that the British got here first, because this is something that seems American in the worst sense of the word. No longer just present the art, but tell us why it is meaningful. Allow us to bring nothing to it, while at the same allowing us to not think about it so we can get on with our busy days.

In another section, where there were Renaissance drawings on display, I saw two sketches side by side, and thought one was clearly more appealing than the other. I will write more about this after I return, after I have had a chance to process it and look at some of my photos.

After the museum, we decided to have an early dinner and went to a place nearby, Abeno, that S had read about on Chowhound. There is apparently a sort of mini-rage going around London these days for Japanese pancakes called Okonomiyaki. They are egg, cabbage, and tempura based thick patties that they cook at your table. You select what other ingredients go in, and they mix them on the spot. It being England, we selected bacon and cheese. Our server cooked the pancake while we enjoyed avocado and tofu gyoza, age dashe dofu, and tea. The meal was delicious, and I would highly recommend it. It was also the most expensive meal of our trip thus far, coming in around £40.

Back to the neighborhood, but first a cluster fuck unlike anything I’ve seen here before, where only one entry turnstile was open at the Tottenham Court Road station. Took twenty minutes to get from the street to the platform, but once there, no trouble getting to Notting Hill Gate. A quick pop in to Marks and Spencer for snacks tonight in case we get hungry, then home.

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Day 6, London

November 23, 2007 By

Woke up early this morning, as S had to pop in to the London branch of her office and do a quick presentation. We stopped by a local cafe and had a full English breakfast (eggs, bacon, sausage, mushrooms, toast, tomato, and beans. Don’t mock the beans, they’re delicious) and then while S went to an internet cafe to post an email, I went looking for an electronics or hardware store to find a step-down converter. At the Tool Lodge across the street from the cafe, they had one for £22, but I wasn’t quite ready to spend $44 yet, after having spent $30 in Oxford for the same thing. It was quite large, too large to fit into my shoe inside my suitcase, and not something I wanted to carry around with me all day. Told them I’d be back and went and collected S.

Headed on the Circle Line to Tower Hill, then walked to St Katherine Docks where S had her presentation. I went to a Starbucks, where I thought I’d be able to get online with my PDA. No such luck. Apparently TMobile Hotspot membership is only good in one country, and my US subscription didn’t carry across the Atlantic. So I sat and waited and did the crossword. Or at least tried. They are devilishly hard here, and very different from the US crosswords.

When S was done we walked to Borough Market on the south side of the Thames. There is a stall there that sells bacon rolls that are unlike any I’ve ever had anywhere else, and we always try to stop by when we’re in London. In fact, S usually plans our trips so we will be here on Friday and Saturday, the only two days the market is open.

Oddly, when we arrived, I didn’t much feel like a bacon roll, and instead opted for the pork and stilton burger, which was outrageously good. S got the bacon roll, then we bought some clotted cream and sea salt from a nearby stall. If you’ve never been to Borough Market, it is one of the best organic markets in the world. Local farmers have been going to the same spot to sell their goods for nearly 3 centuries, and the quality is exceptional. A few years ago we saw Prince Charles wandering through the stalls (apparently he has interest in organic foods), and when we were in a section away from his entourage, we overheard a local ask what all the fuss was about. When told it was the Prince and Camilla, this very English man gave a very English response: “Prince Charles, is it.” He didn’t run out to look at him,or ask what he was doing (as most Americans would have), he just simply stated it back to the man behind the counter.

We headed down an alley to Neal’s Yard Cheese shop, and was S ever disappointed. One of her favorite foods is cheese, of all kinds, and this shop is a bit of a Mecca for her. The problem is much of what they were offering is off-limits to her. Technically, she’s not supposed to eat any soft cheeses or any unpasteurized cheeses, which left very little for her to select. But, after discussing it with a cheesemonger inside, she decided unpasteurized hard cheeses were okay, since the aging process gave them acids that fought off listeria, and we selected a well-aged cheddar (and I got a soft, unpasteurized one for myself).

Heading back to the house, we alighted at Bayswater, and while S went in to a shop to get a tag for the dog, I popped in to a hardware store. They had a 100 watt step-down transformer for only £16, and when I explained the situation with the guy, he said this should work. He also said laptops do indeed draw a lot of power, and it wouldn’t surprise him if it blew a 30 watt transformer. I bought it, and when we returned home, I looked at the box and discovered, indeed, that volt amps are the same as watts, and my laptop apparently draws 115 watts. Good to know, but still have the same problem, as this transformer only rates up to 100. Compromise: I will use it while on battery power, and then re-charge it when drained. Re-charging seems to draw far fewer watts/volt amps, so all should work just fine. (I tested this before I wrote this post, and it does seem to be a solution.)

A stop by Boots for cough medicine (I woke up with a tickle that grew into a full-blown dry, hacking cough. The English have a very amusing way of describing coughs. The pharmacist asked me,”Is it a chesty cough, or a tickly cough?”) then back home for a nap and a little novel writing (up to 44,000 words), then we were ready for dinner.

S had heard of a place in South Lambeth, that some claimed was the best curry house in all of London. We took the Circle line to Victoria, then Victoria line to Vauxhall, and immediately got lost when we came above ground. Stumbled around a bit, but with the help of a friendly pedestrian, found our way to the restaurant.

S made the reservation for us weeks ago, and it was a good thing she did. Hot Stuff has a seating capacity of 28, and apparently is full all the time, every night. The owner is a man named Raj, and his parents opened the place 20 years ago. We told him that he had been written up in the New York Times, and he said he knew, that I must have missed the article posted in the front window (I had). He told us that for the next 2 months after that article appeared, 80% of his customers were Americans. He added that any American that adventured into South Lambeth for a hole in the wall cantina, was the kind of American he wanted as customers. I’m sure he was just buttering us up, but there was no need to. His food spoke for itself. Some of the best curry I’ve ever had, and definitely the best Dal soup I’ve ever had. S asked him for the recipe, but he wouldn’t give it up.

Raj arranged a mincab for us, negotiated the £18 fare for us, and then saw us off. We headed back home, where my cough seemed a bit worse. Off to bed, and I can only hope that it isn’t worse in the morning.

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Day 5, Oxford to London

November 22, 2007 By

S and I overslept, due to a malfunctioning PDA whose data had to be restored last night, and whose alarm settings were therefore screwed up, and missed seeing H and the kids before they left for school and various other destinations. I went to the local shop and picked up a couple egg and bacon sandwiches, we showered, packed, and were on the way to London on the 13:38 train.

It was the first time I had been completely awake during daylight hours passing through the countryside between Oxford and London, and saw many things I had not seen before, such as the 6 reactor nuclear power plant. I also had a chance to work a little on my novel, and am now past the 40,000 word mark and it looks like I may yet finish. (Though 10,000 words is still a solid 10 hours, with only eight days remaining.)

Arrived in Paddington right on schedule at 14:36, grabbed a taxi and were at Anna’s in Notting Hill before 15:00. Chatted with her for a bit, rested then started to work on my novel to finish the chapter I had started on the train. Unfortunately, the new step-down converter I purchased in Oxford blew in a matter of minutes, as is it only good for 30 watts, and apparently my laptop takes significantly more than that, but I am not sure how much more, as watts are not listed on the adapter, only volts and hertz and VA, whatever that is. (I think it may be volt amps, and if I remember my high school physics… are volt amps the same as watts? If so, I am significantly above the 30, clocking in at 115.)

So, I am now typing this on my quickly draining laptop, hoping I will find a larger step-down tomorrow and be able to charge the battery for the trip home. Needless to say, this will be a short entry.

Dinner at the Durbar, one of my favorite restaurants in the world, then a quick stop at Sainsbury’s for Coke (incorrigible American habit) and beer, then home to make phone calls to loved ones (it is Thanksgiving, after all), and then to bed.

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Day 4, Woodstock

November 21, 2007 By

S and I had a quick bite, then headed to the train station to catch a bus to Woodstock and Blenheim Palace. Blenheim is the ancestral home of the Duke of Marlborough, and the birthplace of Winston Churchill, first cousin of the 10th Duke of Marlborough.

As an American, I am always stunned by the sheer extravagance of the British royalty and dukes and earls and so forth. The size of the palace and the surrounding grounds were almost overwhelming, and the thought that a family still lived there was rather shocking. For I could not help but wondering what they do now. I am sure the peerage system was necessary in past centuries, but today just seems like a bit of a joke. A bad joke to those not born into the proper families.

While taking the guided tour, a nice seeming man named Alan showed us around the state rooms. We were shown a portrait of the current Duke, the 11th, painted of him sitting in his study. Alan told us that while the portrait was being painted, the artist had a television by him, turned around so “his Grace” could watch the World Cup while having his portrait painted. I’m sure it was meant as a humanizing touch, to say, “See, the Duke is a normal bloke, just like you and me,” but it had quite the opposite effect on me. All I could think was that this man was just Paris Hilton, a man born into wealth and privilege, far less important than the newest member of Parliament newly elected from the smallest, least important district of the UK, and what had he ever done to merit a portrait, let alone an entire palace?

We then took a very bad tour of the “Hidden Story” of Blenheim, which was basically a bad animatronic exhibit, highlighted with bad actors on video screens. We thought we would have the opportunity to see more of the palace, but instead were led through a series of locked rooms, with stage sets built in them that obscured all the parts of the actual rooms in which they were contained. The rooms forced you to watch the exhibit for four minutes, then the doors would unlock and you would be led into the next room, which would remain locked for another four minutes, and so on ad nauseum. Possibly the longest 36 minutes of my life.

But the trip wasn’t a total waste, and I actually quite enjoyed the rest of it. When we got on the grounds, I spotted several ring-necked pheasants, and had the opportunity to rid myself of the Argentine coin I had been carrying. I have a ritual, of keeping a coin from the last country I visited, and then depositing it in a body of water in the next country I visit. In this way, I have left coins in Trafalgar Square, the Seine, the Rio De La Plata, the Thames, off the coast of Uruguay, and the Tower of London.

The Tower of London was where I left my first, a few summers ago when S and I were traveling during my vacation-from-work period in 2005. We had been to Washington, DC about a month prior, and had been through the Smithsonian and the National Archives, among other places. While in the Tower of London, I walked through the Crown Jewels exhibit and felt a swelling of national pride, a feeling quite uncommon to me these days.

I remembered my trip to DC, where all the museums and national places of interest were free. Whereas the Tower and Blenheim Palace cost 20 pounds and 14 pounds respectively, the only cost of admission to the places in DC was your ability to get there. It didn’t matter how much money you made or whether you could afford it; the government was open and accessible to everyone, free of charge.

But what struck me most was the contrast between the Tower and the National Archives. The emblems of state of the British Empire amounted to little more than a huge pile of Jewelry. The emblems of state of the US were pieces of paper with words written on them.

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