The Spice of Life (continued)

A brief continuation of our trip to Africa...

Is he sleeping?

After three glorious days in Zanzibar (aka the Spice Island), Josh and I hopped two charter flights to the Serengeti. I say “two” rather loosely, because our second plane made about 4 alternate stops before landing at our final destination. Of course we managed to take off during a rare rainstorm, which made it feel more like we were flying in a giant yo-yo than a Cessna. Needless to say, I kept an eye on the very calm blonde kid sitting next to me. I figured, if he wasn’t worried I shouldn’t be either. And yes, the little blonde kid, with his eight years of experience, was correct in his composure, because in the end we landed safe and sound.

Our stay in the Serengeti consisted of two days on safari, which included a private guide that toted us around in some kind of Explorer (I don't remember the make, but I suppose it's not essential to the story). While en route to spot game and observe the wildlife, we got the most impressive lessons on nature, trees, animals and, most notably, natural selection.

Hiding from the boys, no doubt!

It seemed that no matter where we went, we saw a variety of antelope from Gazelles to Hartebeests to Impalas. On one side of the road we’d discover a bachelorette herd (a group of female antelope) and on the other side we’d inevitably spot a bachelor herd (a gawking group of male antelope). The set-up was not too unlike an eighth-grade dance. Boys and girls on opposite sides of the room, please. Within in each bachelorette herd was a dominant alpha male. However, if a random bachelor got the urge, he could fight the alpha male for dominance over his ladies. This is how nature ensures only the strongest genes are passed on—and as in all species, it gives men a reason to fight. 

Lilac-breasted Roller

In addition to seeing antelope aplenty, we observed an array of exotic birds, from the beautiful lilac-breasted rollers to scavenger birds like vultures, as well as giraffes, zebras, baboons and cheetahs. But of course, nothing compares to the sight of the “Big 5 Game”. They are amongst the most sought after (and often the most rare to find). These animals include lions, elephants, buffalo, leopards and rhinos. Fortunately, we saw them all because our guide was the MacGyver of the Serengeti—helping other safari mobiles out of the mud, testing wet ground for stability and locating game nearly invisible to the naked eye.

Rollin' around in the grass

When it comes to animals, I don’t like to play favorites, but I have to say the lions were the most intriguing to watch. (Out of 1,000 pictures, about 500 are of lions!) The first pride we spotted was situated high up on a rock formation. It was once again a scene from The Lion King brought to life. At the top of the food chain, the lions were the most composed, confident, suave animals in the Serengeti. I could write a blog on them alone.

I actually thought about how I might be able to board the plane with a cub in my suitcase. Would our landlord approve of a pet lion? Well, we didn’t leave with any animals, but we did leave with newfound knowledge, stunning photos and unforgettable memories from the trip of a lifetime.

Six Years in the Making

On July 30^th Josh and I celebrated our six-year wedding anniversary by traveling to Whitstable, a fishing and harbor town in Southeast England. Rearing for oysters, we stumbled into a lovely open-air restaurant along the sea and ordered one of everything on the menu. While we waited for our plates of oysters, crab and lobster, Josh asked, “If someone told you on our wedding day that six years later we’d be here, would you’ve believed it?”

NO! Six years ago I was a 24-year old Jersey girl who had never so much as been on a plane before. How would I have ever guessed I’d go from lifelong East Coaster to life as a Londoner? Oddly enough, I think it was two days after our wedding that I finally joined the 21^st Century and got myself on my very first flight… an 11-hour journey to a paradise also know as Hawaii. I honestly believe it was that plane ride that set into motion a series of events that eventually lead to our departure from the “world as we knew it” to one of adventure, challenges and new experiences.

I remember waiting in the airport that day, not knowing how I was going to react when I boarded the plane. Was I going to chicken out, cry, grab onto the stewardess’s shoulders and beg her to “let me out of this tin can”? But right before our flight was called, “Danger Zone” (the Top Gun theme song) blared from the speakers and I felt a surge of adrenaline course through my landlocked veins. I was not only ready to fly, I wanted to pilot that flight! Forget Tom, there was a new Croes in town!

After that trip, we eventually went back to our everyday lives in Clifton, NJ, and back to our jobs and commutes. And while life may have gone back to normal, looking back I can now see that, together, we slowly began evolving into something new. Over the next few years we started new careers and took more planes to exotic places. We went skydiving and parasailing, wind surfing and rock climbing (indoors, but it still counts). We moved from Clifton to Hoboken (NJ) to Chelsea to the East Village (NYC) and ultimately to London.

So the answer again is no, that girl six years ago would not have guessed she’d end up on the other side of the world—blogging about it to her 15 loyal followers. Though on some level, I can see that we’ve been moving in this direction for some time now—I’d say about six years to be exact. And I can also say from my heart there’s no one I’d rather be moving with then my husband, Josh! Happy Anniversary!

For the Beckers

My brother- and sister-in-law, the Facebook famous Steve and Stacie Becker, were the latest guests to check in at Casa de Croes. Celebrating their first anniversary, they jumped across the pond for their (also first) European vacation. Following in the footsteps of Joe and Judi Stormer, the newlyweds toured London like no other (it must run in the family). From Heathrow to Bath with stops at Stonehenge, Buckingham Palace, Westminster Abbey (site of the second biggest wedding this past year) and of course, Shoreditch, the Beckers saw it all… with 800 pictures to prove it. In honor of their impending anniversary, they also took the Eurostar to Paris were they “hopped on” and “hopped off” at nearly every attraction imaginable. Tres Bien!

Family Photo

It goes without saying that the planning and execution of the Becker trip was virtually flawless. But this wouldn’t be a proper “Life As A Londoner” blog, if I didn’t tell you about how Stacie and Steve’s visit also happened to coincide with our 4-week stint without hot water. Oh yes, 4 weeks, which, according to our management company, is “just how life is sometimes.”

When Josh’s parents were in town we noticed that there something wrong with the water. Perhaps too many showers per day or one too many dishes being washed. Or maybe after a long winter, the hot water decided to go on hiatus. Whatever the reason, our apartment called for a boiler strike. Oddly enough, someone I was working with at the time experienced the same problem. He said he just turned a knob here, flipped a switch there and voila! Well, if you saw our original boiler you would know that it was army green and dusty and looked like it had been erected in the 1960s. There were no knobs or switches or restart buttons. In fact, our first repairman (yes, first of five) told us he could barely look into the matter, because of the way the boiler was basically stuffed into a tiny closet. It’s also worth mentioning that before this repairman came to our flat and tinkered with our boiler, we were at least able to get hot water during the strike so long as the heat was on. In 70-80 degree weather this was less than ideal, but hey, hot water with heating is better then no hot water at all. As you might have guessed, after he left, the hot water stopped flowing altogether.

We were told a valve needed to be replaced and the order was going to be rushed. And when no one called us for a week and a half, we learned that the person in charge of receiving deliveries was out sick. By the time the new part was ready to be installed, Josh and I were leaving for NY. Fortunately, or so I thought at the time, I was able to schedule an appointment for the morning we returned from our trip. It was so nice to think that after an all-day plane ride, we’d finally be able to take a nice, long, hot shower. But 10am Monday morning came and went. After several calls, I once again learned that there was a scheduling muck-up as yet another person had called out sick. I seriously contemplated sending over a jumbo box of multi-vitamins.

While Josh and I have come to expect this kind of thing, what were our guests going to think? I mean, we were handling things just fine. We each took daily showers at the gym, which actually forced us to workout and has to this day kicked off a bit of a fitness high. But what were Stacie and Steve going to do? I didn’t think Fitness First offered guest passes for their bathroom facilities.

So we went back to the management company for another round of, “You better fix this!” - “We’re doing everything we can!” emails. And after visits from two more repairmen, our apartment was condemned! Turns out it wasn’t just a busted valve, but the entire boiler needed to be replaced.

With our landlord’s blessing—that is after several threats—we were granted permission to get a hotel room with compensation. Good, great, problem solved. Josh and I planned to hit the showers after our trip to the Abbey and Stacie and Steve were going to head over later that evening and spend the night there. In all truthfulness, I can’t complain about our shower/stay at the Holiday Inn Express on Old Street. Firm and soft pillows, labeled accordingly, coffee/tea service, free continental breakfast, and lots of movie channels.

We did, in fact, get the handicapped room, which was completely fine, as there was a functioning shower. But to give you a mental image of what this looked like, picture a bathroom with nothing more than a toilet and sink. Then imagine a showerhead affixed to the wall. No tub, door or curtain. Just a drain in the middle of the floor. Oh, and there was also a long red cord. Please note that if you should ever be in a similar situation, do not pull said cord, unless you’ve fallen and can’t get up. Curious Josh pulled it and subsequently alerted the front desk that room 304 was in distress. We had to call reception and cancel what was sure to be a visit from the manager on duty, followed by medical assistance and an ambulance.  

After our weekend stay in the Holiday Inn Express, the new boiler was finally installed by the fourth and fifth repairmen. We celebrated the end of Hot-Watergate by doing the dishes and taking more showers (as one should). And while our visits to the gym may have become less frequent, it feels quite luxurious to bathe without flip-flops.

Cheers to the Happy Couple

To Stacie and Steve I’d like to say thanks for coming, Happy 1^st Anniversary and, every time you take a shower, I hope you think of us!

Meet the Fallons

All month I’d been looking forward to my family’s visit to London. They scheduled their trip shortly following the New Year and every weekend thereafter, Josh and I did something new to prepare. One weekend we purchased Billy Elliot tickets, another we researched soccer (or football) games in the area; of course there was the grand cleaning and grocery shopping; and finally, a week of anticipation and excitement. Not only was it our first time entertaining visitors from the US, but it also the first time we were going to see my mom, dad and brother since September. I was eager to show them our flat, our town, and our lives as Londoners.

From Left: John, Josh, Me, Dad, Mom

Through my blog, I think you’ve become quite familiar with the way things usually go for us. In the end, all might be well, but it doesn’t come easy. So I think now’s the time to let you in on a little known secret. Our blunders in London are not isolated or coincidental, but rather part of my genetic makeup—a strand of distinct DNA that has been generously passed down from generation to generation of mishaps. So with the Fallon forces joining together, it goes without saying that our perfectly woven plan began to degenerate rather quickly.

The evening before my family’s flight, Mother Nature inflicted a storm upon the East Coast that ravaged the New York/New Jersey area with an unprecedented amount of snow and ice. When the numbers came out in the morning, my parent’s NJ town was the lucky winner coming in at 19 inches of snow, while pretty much the rest of the state was hit with 15. Not that 15 isn’t bad in its own right, but the fact that the small town my parents live in somehow managed to accumulate an additional four inches is just plain… expected! It’s like those Peanuts cartoons where the single black cloud only rains on Charlie Brown.

In an effort to beat the system, the three of them set off to the airport extra early prepared to spend the night at Newark Liberty International if they had to. Learning from my previous travel mistakes, my mother jokingly asked if everyone had their passports before trekking off. It was more of a rhetorical question meant as a hat-tip to my blog, but John (my brother), surprised her when he jumped up and exclaimed he had forgotten his! (I’m telling you, it’s genetic.) With that, he darted from NJ to NY in freezing conditions, and then raced back to NJ to meet my parents at the airport.

Fortunately they all managed to make it on time, passports, luggage and sanity in tack… unfortunately, the plane hadn’t. After two and a half hours of weather delays the flight finally boarded with one minor issue. The toilets weren’t flushing! While it must’ve been incredibly irritating to sit on the runway for an additional hour while the plumbing was fixed, it’s probably best that the situation was remedied before the plane took off and the in-flight meal was served. (I apologize for the mental image.)

Before the Show

Despite it all the family arrived in one piece, ready for a good time (and a stiff drink)! And a good time (and many drinks) we had! On Saturday we saw Billy Elliot, celebrated my mom’s birthday with gourmet pizza and caramel cake and bar-hopped on Brick Lane.

Bday dinner!

Victoria Palace Theatre

On Sunday we went to the West Ham United v. Nottingham Forrest “football match”. To explain this part, I’m going to need a paragraph or two: To begin, we went to the game routing for West Ham, as they’re from East London and because Nottingham Forrest just sounds like a team full of sissies. I pictured men in tights frolicking around with bow and arrows on their backs, gingerly kicking the ball with their green fairy shoes. But I couldn’t be more wrong. Within 15 minutes we wanted to defect. Nottingham Forrest fans turned out to be the most passionate, loud, rowdy fans I’d ever seen. Even when their team lost they were still cheering, chanting and talking smack, while the West Ham fans sat quietly like they were at the library. If it weren’t illegal (seriously, illegal) to route for the opposing team in our assigned section, we would’ve joined in the Nottingham Forrest fun.

The next interesting part of our soccer excursion was the concessions. By halftime the stadium had run out of hot dogs and hamburgers, leaving us to choke down five meat pies and a pasty (meat filled pastry that looks similar to an empanada, but tastes like a foot). With one tear of the pasty package the noxious odor was released, warning our bodies that this was not to be eaten. While the pasty wasn’t fit for human consumption, it did a great job of keeping my hands warm. As for the meat pies, they seemed fine enough on the outside, resembling chicken potpies in individual golden crusts. The inside was another story.  They were filled with a graying substance that the five of us (and probably the top NASA scientists) could not quite identify. Following some extensive research we now believe the pie was filled with mutton, which is the meat of an elderly sheep.

By Monday, we were all grateful no one needed a good stomach pumping and set off for an afternoon of shopping and relaxing. We had a wonderful time, but as day turned to night I got that ominous feeling that reminds you the fun you’re having comes with an expiration date. It’s that heaviness that creeps up, as you slowly realize vacation or Christmas or Sunday night is coming to a close. As the feeling grew stronger and the sky darkened, I wished for one more day. With all the snow and toilet delays our time together had already been cut short and it didn’t seem fair that it all had to end so soon…

Outside Commercial Tavern

Pool Showdown!

The forces that be may be tough on us Fallons, but they’re nothing if not fair. By Monday night, snow threatened the East Coast again and flights for Tuesday morning were subsequently cancelled! We spent our bonus night together cooking dinner, drinking wine and watching episodes of The Mighty Boosh. If you’ve never seen it you must download the series or at least the episode entitled, “The Legend of Old Gregg”. It’s hysterically bizarre, and the type of humor reserved for the warp and twisted. Needless to say, it was the perfect way to end a long weekend with my family.

Thanksgiving in London

Living outside of your comfort zone is one thing, but living outside of your comfort zone on Thanksgiving is quite another. I woke up bright and early and although I didn’t have to work, Josh did. To me, working on Thanksgiving is sacrilegious and I was personally glad to have the day off.

I figured it was only right to do something to celebrate while I waited for the evening’s dinner plans—at a French restaurant—but I didn’t know what to do with myself. I thought about watching the parade on the computer, but then remembered that while it was 9am in England it was only 4am in NY. The clowns may have been rising, but they definitely weren’t shining. So after posting a “Happy Thanksgiving” message on Facebook and snooping around to see what everyone back home was up to, I went about my usual business.

Even though I know Thanksgiving isn’t celebrated here, I sort of hoped I’d come across some type of acknowledgement for the day, like a turkey decal in a shop window or a Black Friday sale advert. Alas, there were none. In fact, I had to explain Black Friday to a co-worker and she looked at me like I was a heathen. In hindsight, driving to Walmart at midnight and clawing your way through throngs of people for half-priced electronics doesn’t make for the most heartfelt Thanksgiving story.

Flashing back to a few weeks before Thanksgiving, I’d invited another American couple over for a traditional turkey dinner the weekend after the holiday, as I figured our five-course French tasting menu wasn’t exactly authentic. My plan seemed completely doable and just plain necessary.  You can take the girl out of America, but you can’t take the America out of the girl. While Thanksgiving Day may have been anti-climactic, the thought of Saturday’s dinner plans lifted my spirits.

I started the process by researching recipes and interrogating family and friends on their tried-and-true cooking tricks. Though I graduated from culinary school, the Natural Gourmet focuses on health-supportive food that also happens to be primarily vegan. No roasted turkeys or sausage stuffing, and certainly no metric system.

After watching countless episodes of Barefoot Contessa and talking to Thanksgiving pros, I knew exactly how to cook a six-pound turkey at 350 degrees Fahrenheit—but what did that mean to a Londoner? It meant that I had to do more math this past week than I’ve ever had to do in my life. My preparations felt more like homework than cooking. If a turkey weighs 2.7 kilograms and it should cook for 20 minutes per pound at 350 degrees Fahrenheit, how long does it need to cook in a Celsius oven and at what temperature? After many equations and matrices, I learned that the turkey had to cook for approximately two hours at 176.66 (repeating) degrees Celsius. Impressed?

The process went on as such and my head swirled with gram and kilogram and milliliter conversions. You’d think I was mastering the Theory of Relativity with the pages of notes I was working with. Fractions and decimal points kept me up at night and worries of salmonella poisoning sent chills down my spine. Yes, it’s safe to say I was sufficiently and excessively stressed. But it was Thanksgiving and without a parade or Black Friday sales, the least I could do was serve a properly cooked turkey.

Cheese Platter

Despite two weeks’ worth of over analyzing and agonizing, dinner turned out as I’d hoped—fun, festive and full of food and wine. I’ll admit there were blunders, burns and tears along the way. I can tell you that I have blisters on my knuckles from my tiny oven and I had a near meltdown when the grocery delivery service sent me frozen broccoli instead of fresh broccoli. Not to mention that the farm I purchased my turkey from called me the day before to change my order (including the size and type of turkey), which meant I had to redo my entire cooking chart in the 11^th hour. But all mishaps aside, I’m happy to report that by 7:15pm on Saturday evening four friends sat down to a feast of food that served as a little reminder of home. It may not have been perfect, but it finally felt like Thanksgiving.

Apps - forgot to take pics after this point!

This year, I am thankful for the opportunity to live in London. I am thankful for wonderful friends and family. I am thankful for those of you who helped me plan my dinner and those of you who cheered me on along the way. I am thankful for Cindy, Greg and Josh for being my Thanksgiving Day guinea pigs. I am thankful for my blog readers (become a follower by clicking the “Follow” link at the bottom of the page). And for the first time, I am thankful for my former math teachers, who inadvertently prepared me for my first Thanksgiving abroad. I never thought I’d say this, but they were right. You do use math in your everyday life and you won’t always have access to a calculator. Who knew?

Life as a Londoner

It’s so easy to talk about writing a blog. “Oh, sure” I said, “the minute I get to London I’m going to start a blog and upload pictures and take lots of video footage. I’m also going to watch less TV, so I’ll have more time to volunteer and finally learn Spanish.” I figured if I’m going to start over in a new country, I might as well do it right. But in real life (or my life) that kind of thing never actually happens. It’s always the same story. I manage to get caught up in errands and activities and never seem to have enough time for anything I resolved to do. Well, I think I never have any free time, but what that really means is I’ve spent most of my afternoon watching Judge Judy reruns on the BBC, leaving no time for creative productivity.

Fortunately, I’m blessed to say that I have some amazing friends and family that didn’t let me weasel out of this one. So to those of you who believe in me, encourage me and offer your undying support, I want to say thank you. I also want to say hello to my readers (if there are any of you) and let you know that if you happen to be a book publisher, movie producer or talent scout, I would entertain the idea of turning my blog into a bestselling novel, blockbuster movie or situation comedy. Until then, on with the story…

I don’t think it’s possible to go into detail on everything that’s happened during our first two weeks in London. Besides, most of you have seen my Facebook updates and know all about the transit strike, the little mouse we found and our Sunday-funday trip to IKEA. What you don’t know, is that in terms of being the perfect tourists, I’d say we’ve rivaled the Griswalds. Here’s a list of what we can now cross off our Fromer’s list: Museum of London, Tate Modern, Buckingham Palace, Borough Market, Spitafields Market, Ronnie Scott’s Jazz Club, London Bridge and Picadilly and Oxford Circus. When we weren’t busy running through the Clipboard of Fun, we tried to fit in as real Londoners with a little help from some new friends. One particular invitation came from a fellow Natural Gourmet student, who had us over for a pop-up dinner in Fulham. Similar to the Friday Night Dinners we had at school, she presented a group of 16 guests with a locally-sourced three-course meal. (If you live in London or went to the NGI, become a friend of Alice’s catering company, Love a Locavore.) We also partied on a houseboat in the West End, watched “American” football in Sports Café on Haymarket Street and hung out at Madame Jojo’s in Soho.

It was a whirlwind two weeks and for a fleeting moment I wondered how it was humanly possible do so much in such a sort period of time. Then I remembered… we had a week off of work. Just when life was starting to feel like a long vacation – or better yet, retirement – it was back to the grind. Josh is working in the London office of his company and I’m doing some freelance work. But I’ll save those details for the next blog.