Auld Lang Shah Rukh

Your correspondent would love to go back in time and give her 2009 self the following quiz.

1. You will live in the following countries in 2010:
a) India
b) England
c) USA
d) All of the above

2. You will have been present for various protests and/or riots in the following countries in 2010:
a) Thailand
b) Nepal
c) England
d) Ireland
e) All of the above

3. Your favorite dessert will be:
a) Laddoo
b) Eton mess
c) Scones
d) All of the above

4.  You will spend the last week of 2010 doing this:
a) Watching ice hockey and American football
b) Training for a Scottish marathon
c) Watching the Bollywood hit My Name is Khan while drinking Irish beer and eating Moroccan argon butter after a lovely dinner of caprese, curry, and baklava
d) All of the above

5.  None of this will be surprising to you by December 31, 2010
a) True
b) False

I bet I would get 100% correct.

Proof is in the Pudding

Your correspondent's younger sister was in charge of the dessert for our Christmas feast this year, but unfortunately she arrived from Boston on Christmas morning with a cold to kill a rhino and had to politely decline.  Undaunted, I stepped in to fill the dessert void with my personal favorite creation: pumpkin fluff.

It wasn't until I had gathered all of the ingredients when I realized what I had done.  I had made a classic mistake.  My Christmas pudding

Desserts

was literally pudding.

Pudding

Nevertheless, with a little pumpkin and spice thrown in it became more than just Jell-O and went deliciously on top of homemade ginger cookies.  And it was far superior, I might add, to fruitcake.

Recipe for an American Christmas

Step 1: Christmas Mass: midnight or otherwise.  (Some of us are jet-lagged.)
Step 2: Prepare turkey.
Step 3: A Christmas Story
Step 4: Watch snow. With dignity.  We're not England.
Step 5: Open presents
Step 6: A Christmas Story
Step 7: Destroy Watch home movies
Step 8: Die of shame  Apologize to boyfriend for being forced to watch home movies  Christmas Carols
Step 9: A Christmas Story
Step 10: Eat.
Step 11- 14: Eat
Step 15: A Christmas Story
Step 16: Eat
Step 17: A Christmas Story
Step 18: Destroy home movies

Parting Gift

Dragged myself out of bed to catch the 4 am bus to Heathrow, arrived at 5:15 am and nevertheless had to jostle with thousands of other travellers, finally got through the mess and found myself a Starbucks breakfast, only to discover -- BLAH! -- porridge is not the same thing as oatmeal.  Blah! Porridge!

That makes this semester's score: British Food 24, Your Correspondent 0.  Get me back to America!

Happy Birthday, Blog

It wasn't until I checked the profile of my blogger page that I realised: I've been writing for more than a year now.  Editing at Large turned one on 21 December.

I didn't exactly expect to be writing my one-year anniversary post from England, but then again life is full of surprises.  I head back to America tomorrow (weather permitting) and couldn't be more ready for College Bowl games, Trader Joe's, and the un-ironic use of the word "y'all".

In the meanwhile, I found a lovely article on The Economist's "Johnson" blog which stands up to a celebratory post.  You may or may not know that my own handle is a tribute to the usual way Economist writers self-refer.  I had never really known the semantics behind the practice, but now I do.

My bus to Heathrow leaves in twelve hours so while I'm airborne fingers are crossed there will be a Dunkin Donuts coffee waiting on the other side of the ocean, just for me.  My family and loved ones wouldn't hurt, either.

At Least the Snow is Good for One Thing

Snowball fights.

My pub's been pelted!

I'm Screaming of a White Christmas

Here's some culture shock from an unexpected quarter:

Snow.

Oh, please.

Six to eight inches of snow fell in Oxford yesterday.  Let me put this in perspective: there are places in my home state of Michigan which sit under several feet of snow most of the year.  In Boston, temperatures can hover around freezing sometimes into early May.  Snow doesn't phase me.

England, on the other hand, has closed its eyes, curled up in a little ball, and is now rocking slowly back and forth, muttering to itself.

It wasn't until this morning that I saw plows going through the streets or grit being spread on the roads.  The universities are closed and bus services were suspended.  Worse, Heathrow is closed.  All flights leaving the country, entering the country, carrying people to and from their Christmas holidays, are cancelled.  All flights meant to be leaving in the next few days will be packed to the gills with no room for the 400,000 folks who have just been misplaced.

I should be more sympathetic.  This little island doesn't usually see more than a few flakes, and if you don't own many plows you can only clear the roads so fast.

On the other hand, a little part of me is saying: It's snow.  I'm used to it.  Why aren't you?

This may be a sign it's time for me to go home.  I just hope I can.

Important Facts about English Christmas Parties I Wish I'd Known A Bit Earlier

- One traditional English treat is the mince pie.  Mince pies do not actually contain mincemeat.  Most grocery-store varieties are actually suitable for vegetarians.
- This does not mean mince pies are worth investigating.
- "Fancy dress" in America does not mean the same thing it does in England.  This is "fancy dress" in the US:

Formalwear

This is "fancy dress" in the UK:

Costume

This could lead to some awkwardness if your invitation isn't clarified.
- Treacle tarts probably aren't vegetarian but probably aren't worth investigating anyways.
- Don't tease men in kilts.  If he's wearing a traditional kilt there's a 50/50 chance he'll be carrying the traditional dagger.  At the very least he is packing a kilt pin.
- Puddings are not necessarily made of custard.  The term encompasses all desserts.
- Crackers are not food.  They are exploding party favors.  Probably not edible.  Do not investigate.
- Puddings are not necessarily dessert.  (See: Yorkshire pudding, Sunday Roast)
- Christmas pudding is a traditional English dessert.  When translated into American, the term is pronounced "grandma's fruitcake with cream on top" and by the by they are definitely not worth investigating.
- In fact, the one thing worth investigating is the drinks.  Happy Holidays!

The Semi-Alright Gatsby

During less studious moments I've been tearing through books on my new Kindle.  After seeing a large poster of the iconic The Great Gatsby cover in the shop window of Blackwell's, I downloaded the Amazon version for a winning one pound ninety, and e-enjoyed an old favorite.

As a student of books, and at the present moment taking a course on book design, I inherently appreciate the beauty of a printed tome.  I also grudgingly admit that though I'm enjoying the Kindle it could use some work in the aesthetic department.  It was only when I got to the last page of classic Fitzgerald when I was able to put a finger on why.

The famous last line is as follows:

"And so we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past."

It's a beautiful close to a beautiful novel, and I've read it many times before.

Unfortunately, the Kindle default page layout and font size renders the last line like so:

Page One

Page Two

I'm sorry.  I'm an editor.  I saw that last orphan and stared at it in dismay.  Really?  This is what you do to The Great Gatsby?  And of all lines to orphan, you orphan that one?

Those of you who doubt the endurance of printed books, look no further.  Until issues like this are sorted, at least some version of humanity's important literature needs to have been consciously designed and permanently stamped on paper.  (This hasn't even gotten me started on Project Gutenberg downloads.  Hanging indents!  No hanging indents!  Unnecessary line breaks!  Maybe I should watch some TV instead . . .)

London Calling

It's difficult to say how I feel about the student protests rippling through England right now.  Smaller, more peaceful demonstrations dot the main street of Oxford every day, but thank goodness no violence has been reported in these parts.  In London, on the other hand, the spectre of raised tuition fees has gotten the young'uns up in arms.

It's a foreign concept to me, really, because the numbers being thrown around by doomsday activists - sixteen thousand pounds for an education! - are actually standard American rates.  I almost blush to think how much a Notre Dame education cost my family. (Here's a hint: we're still paying.)  In contrast, English children have been going to university for only a few thousand pounds per year, usually softened with student loans and bursaries for the neediest candidates.

There's a difference, of course.  American parents start saving before their children are even born to afford those college tuitions.  If you're an English parent, and you haven't made such preparations, because there was no need to make such preparations, this is a huge blow.  If your savings are already stretched tight, that could rule out college entirely.  What will your children do now?

It's a difficult problem, and I don't envy the decisionmakers on this one.  As someone who knows what it's like to pay the full fee for an education -- like the full fee I pay for my MA course, the English subsidized rates not being available to me -- I know these choices are hard.  Just consider this: a big motivator for my decision to move abroad for continuing education was the fact that this same program in the US would cost twice as much and take twice as long.  You'd hope that there is a lesson in this for the powers that be.

'Murican, Abroad Y'all

"I think it's really funny that you say I have a British accent."

"Why?  Don't you?"

"No!  I have an English accent!  When you talk about Britain you mean the entire island!"

"Oh!  But . . . Oh.  We don't think like that.  We speak English."

"Sort of . . . But not English."

"What!? Well, then, what do we speak?"

"..."

"..."

"..."

"... y'all."

"Was that an American accent?  All you said was 'y'all'."

"Well, I'm, like, totally going to go to the mall later, and then, like, I'm going to call Becky, and we are, like, toooootally going to go shopping because, like,  this place is so whack."

This, my friends, is cultural exchange.

One for the Gipper

Adding to the stress of finals, we're getting close to decision time on our dissertation topics.  I've narrowed down my field of interest to educational publishing in emerging markets, particularly Latin America.  Most likely I'll be creating in-depth case studies of three countries: Chile, Mexico, and Brazil.

"Oh!" said a classmate, upon hearing my suggestion.  "Did you know I'm from Brazil?"

"Yes," I replied. "I've been meaning to ask you about the topic, and I'll definitely be taking you to lunch next semester to hear more about what you think."

"That's great," she said.  "Although I should warn you, I've lived in the States for the past fifteen years."

This time it was my turn to ask, "Did you know I'm from the States?  Where did you live?"

She replied, "South Bend, Indiana."

I could have jumped out of my skin. "That's incredible!  I went to Notre Dame."

Now she jumped.  "I used to work in the Hesburgh Library!  My husband got a PhD from Notre Dame."

For those of you keeping score at home, that means I've met fellow Domers in places ranging from Everest Base Camp in Nepal to my own MA in International Publishing course in Oxford (via Brazil).  It's not every day you find yourself reminiscing about Touchdown Jesus when you're supposed to be talking about the educational system of Chile.  Go Irish, indeed.

Moat Hockey, Anyone?

It's been another shamefully long time since I've posted, but for that blame the absurd amount of coursework I've been jamming through for the past week.  I find myself just as busy as I was during our most hectic busy season at the old custom textbook company, except this time I am paying someone else for the pleasure of dreaming in P&L spreadsheets.

It's also been snowing.  Nothing stifles the creative urge like a face full of snow.  Oxford's weather is some of the most frustrating I've seen -- it doesn't really snow, per se, but it doesn't ever really not snow, and then all of a sudden the fields are covered in white and you're freezing.

There is a bright side to this.  Look: you can now ice skate in front of the Tower of London.