...further to my previous post, I forgot to mention one funny thing. We went to one restaurant here in Manchester which specializes in Baltic and Polish cuisine. There, we have had Kanapinis beer. It is unfiltered, and it tastes slightly 'weird'. Well, we, the Czech beer snobs, thought that maybe it's just how beer is made in Lithuania, or that the beer suffered some taste loss because it had to travel a long distance to get here.
Well, no. It is a cannabis beer. Seriously!
-----
(By the way: have I mentioned what my Lithuanian friends have told me once? They drink warm beer during winter. It appears to be not even room temperature - the beer is actually warmed before drinking! Well... I am sure I want to try this one day, but I am not so sure I will like it...)
Saturday, 12 March 2016
1. We went to see Manchester International Film Festival. We've seen two blocks of short films: student films and animations.
The students films were surprisingly good; there were two best films. One of them was about an Afghani girl who was injured by an accident and then found by German soldiers, which in Afghanistan is a big problem, because while saving her life, the foreign men touched her (oh what a scandal). The other best film was about a Kyrgyz girl who is going to get married, and her favourite horse will be slaughtered for the food for the wedding. The best thing about this film is that the authors kept it surprisingly 'civil', without emotional pressure and things like that.
The animated films were... animated. Some of them funny, some of them weird, The best one was Mexican 31 min film Revoltoso, which had cubist-like 'puppets' and was visually really impressive.
2. I have finally got my new shoes! These. I looove them. My husband's money and bank account are finally paying off!
3. We have seen some anti-EU campaigners. A guy told us that 'the UK needs to leave the EU because majority of our law is made in Brussels' and that the UK should re-establish its democracy and be a sovereign nation again. This shows a very deep misunderstanding of how law is made in this country.
Then asked us what we thought and what would be our vote. 'We don't have right to vote,' we said. 'Where are you from,' he asked. So we told him. His next question was stunning: 'Is Czech Republic in EU?'
Like, seriously? Are you protesting against it or not? How can you protest against something if you have no idea about it? Oh my...
4. On Monday morning, we've spent more than 20 minutes waiting for a bus. By the time the bus arrived, I was frozen and furious.
The problem is that when a bus is this late, there are of course many people waiting for it on every bus stop. Many of these people want to buy weekly tickets, esp. on Monday morning. The more late the bus is, the longer it takes to sell all the tickets. Therefore, the more delayed the bus becomes, which makes the next stops even more overcrowded, and then... well, you get the idea.
I've decided I would write ti (i) the city council, and (ii) our MP. She (or maybe one of her side-kicks) puts some leaflets under our door pretty much every weekend, so it is time for her to start working on improving our life!
5. My husband ordered some stuff over internet. The stuff was apparently sent by Royal Mail in a neat package which did not fit in our mail box. Therefore, we got a small card saying: Packet is in xxx. I nearly threw it away with all the spam we get every day. (We get loads and loads of takeaway restaurants menus, advertisements for kids' clothes outlets and other 'important' things.) However, I had a closer look on this particular spam, and finally noticed that it was not a spam. Therefore, I went to have a look to xxx (a pretty obvious 'secret' place where you can hide stuff and which I won't give away just in case our mail man decides to do the same thing again), and there it was, my husband's package.
Funny indeed. A mail man would never do this in the Czech Republic, because if he would, the homeless people and/or some thieves would find it and steal it straight away, no matter how well it would be hidden.
6. Everyone knows that Irish people celebrate St Patrick's day. I guess that no one (or nearly) knows that Welsh people celebrate St David's day.
To celebrate St Patrick's day, you wear green things and drink a lot (a lot). To celebrate St David's day, you carry leek and/or a daffodil. Don't ask me why.
And by the way, there is leek on one of the pound coins. (Erm, I thought it was some kind of weird agave... please don't tell Welsh people...)
(Btw2: If anyone is interested in current pound designs: http://www.royalmint.com/discover/uk-coins/coin-design-and-specifications/one-pound-coin)
The students films were surprisingly good; there were two best films. One of them was about an Afghani girl who was injured by an accident and then found by German soldiers, which in Afghanistan is a big problem, because while saving her life, the foreign men touched her (oh what a scandal). The other best film was about a Kyrgyz girl who is going to get married, and her favourite horse will be slaughtered for the food for the wedding. The best thing about this film is that the authors kept it surprisingly 'civil', without emotional pressure and things like that.
The animated films were... animated. Some of them funny, some of them weird, The best one was Mexican 31 min film Revoltoso, which had cubist-like 'puppets' and was visually really impressive.
2. I have finally got my new shoes! These. I looove them. My husband's money and bank account are finally paying off!
3. We have seen some anti-EU campaigners. A guy told us that 'the UK needs to leave the EU because majority of our law is made in Brussels' and that the UK should re-establish its democracy and be a sovereign nation again. This shows a very deep misunderstanding of how law is made in this country.
Then asked us what we thought and what would be our vote. 'We don't have right to vote,' we said. 'Where are you from,' he asked. So we told him. His next question was stunning: 'Is Czech Republic in EU?'
Like, seriously? Are you protesting against it or not? How can you protest against something if you have no idea about it? Oh my...
4. On Monday morning, we've spent more than 20 minutes waiting for a bus. By the time the bus arrived, I was frozen and furious.
The problem is that when a bus is this late, there are of course many people waiting for it on every bus stop. Many of these people want to buy weekly tickets, esp. on Monday morning. The more late the bus is, the longer it takes to sell all the tickets. Therefore, the more delayed the bus becomes, which makes the next stops even more overcrowded, and then... well, you get the idea.
I've decided I would write ti (i) the city council, and (ii) our MP. She (or maybe one of her side-kicks) puts some leaflets under our door pretty much every weekend, so it is time for her to start working on improving our life!
5. My husband ordered some stuff over internet. The stuff was apparently sent by Royal Mail in a neat package which did not fit in our mail box. Therefore, we got a small card saying: Packet is in xxx. I nearly threw it away with all the spam we get every day. (We get loads and loads of takeaway restaurants menus, advertisements for kids' clothes outlets and other 'important' things.) However, I had a closer look on this particular spam, and finally noticed that it was not a spam. Therefore, I went to have a look to xxx (a pretty obvious 'secret' place where you can hide stuff and which I won't give away just in case our mail man decides to do the same thing again), and there it was, my husband's package.
Funny indeed. A mail man would never do this in the Czech Republic, because if he would, the homeless people and/or some thieves would find it and steal it straight away, no matter how well it would be hidden.
6. Everyone knows that Irish people celebrate St Patrick's day. I guess that no one (or nearly) knows that Welsh people celebrate St David's day.
To celebrate St Patrick's day, you wear green things and drink a lot (a lot). To celebrate St David's day, you carry leek and/or a daffodil. Don't ask me why.
And by the way, there is leek on one of the pound coins. (Erm, I thought it was some kind of weird agave... please don't tell Welsh people...)
(Btw2: If anyone is interested in current pound designs: http://www.royalmint.com/discover/uk-coins/coin-design-and-specifications/one-pound-coin)
Wednesday, 2 March 2016
Ever heard of a concept called 'equitable ownership'?
OK, so this equitable ownership. In every 'normal' country, if you have stuff, you just have it. Period. Not in the UK. There is a thing called 'trust' (also an equity thing) which means that if you are a trustee, you own something, which was given to you by someone (settlor) but this guy did not quite give it to you - s/he gave you on someone else's (beneficiary's) behalf.
In other words: there was someone (settlor) who started all this. and owned a thing. He wanted someone else to have the thing. However, for some reason it is no possible that settlor gives the thing directly to that someone else. So the settlor chooses a trustee, who gets the thing instead of the someone else, and the someone else becomes beneficiary. If there is any profit in having the thing, or if the trustee sells the thing, s/he cannot keep the money, the beneficiary gets it.
It sounds fairly easy when you put it like this, but if you consider all the other problems, it becomes a mess. First thing is: legally - in common law - the true owner is the trustee. If the thing is, let's say, a piece of land, the trustee is the one recorded in the land register. However, he's at the same time not the owner, because equitable owner is the beneficiary (who is not owner in common law). So both these guys are owners, and are not owners.
Second thing: This is found nowhere in written statutes (Acts), it just happened and developed in the case law of equity courts. There is literally no written law talking about or codifying this thing. Still, it is very real. It happens every day. And because trusts and all this is equity business (...and has 'nothing to do' with common law), it takes precedence over common law, it doesn't have to be written, it just is. (And btw, have I mentioned that common law may mean three totally different things?)
I always thought that owning stuff is pretty much a binary thing - either you have it, or you don't have it. Well, in England and Wales (no idea how this works in Scotland or NI...), this has more levels than just plain 1 and 0.
It's a bit like Schrödinger ownership, if you allow me one physics students' joke.
OK, so this equitable ownership. In every 'normal' country, if you have stuff, you just have it. Period. Not in the UK. There is a thing called 'trust' (also an equity thing) which means that if you are a trustee, you own something, which was given to you by someone (settlor) but this guy did not quite give it to you - s/he gave you on someone else's (beneficiary's) behalf.
In other words: there was someone (settlor) who started all this. and owned a thing. He wanted someone else to have the thing. However, for some reason it is no possible that settlor gives the thing directly to that someone else. So the settlor chooses a trustee, who gets the thing instead of the someone else, and the someone else becomes beneficiary. If there is any profit in having the thing, or if the trustee sells the thing, s/he cannot keep the money, the beneficiary gets it.
It sounds fairly easy when you put it like this, but if you consider all the other problems, it becomes a mess. First thing is: legally - in common law - the true owner is the trustee. If the thing is, let's say, a piece of land, the trustee is the one recorded in the land register. However, he's at the same time not the owner, because equitable owner is the beneficiary (who is not owner in common law). So both these guys are owners, and are not owners.
Second thing: This is found nowhere in written statutes (Acts), it just happened and developed in the case law of equity courts. There is literally no written law talking about or codifying this thing. Still, it is very real. It happens every day. And because trusts and all this is equity business (...and has 'nothing to do' with common law), it takes precedence over common law, it doesn't have to be written, it just is. (And btw, have I mentioned that common law may mean three totally different things?)
I always thought that owning stuff is pretty much a binary thing - either you have it, or you don't have it. Well, in England and Wales (no idea how this works in Scotland or NI...), this has more levels than just plain 1 and 0.
It's a bit like Schrödinger ownership, if you allow me one physics students' joke.
Monday, 29 February 2016
I forgot to mention few funny little things about Edinburgh yesterday, but I cannot leave it like that!
The first thing you see when you arrive to Edinburgh Haymarket is the Scottish Gaelic name of the station: Margadh an Fheòir. This is a little warning that Scottish people are independent and will not be oppressed by the English.
Then, you learn a lot about Walter Scott. Everywhere you go, you learn the opinions of Sir Walter Scott. Anything that is shown or presented to you, there is also a small inscription about what Walter Scott thought about it.
Edinburgh Waverley - the main train station - is named after a novel. Guess who was the author! :-)
There are bagpipe players in the streets, and there are people in kilts. They have knives in their socks. They were kilts for every possible occasion. If you are male and want to dress formally in Scotland, you wear a white shirt, a jacket (a bit shorter than an ordinary suit jacket) and kilt. With formal shoes of course. If you are male and work for the castle, you wear a kilt and windstopper (and hiking shoes because there are rocks everywhere). And so on.
If you go into an ordinary shop (like Tesco or Sainsbury's), you can tell that you are in Scotland, because they have huge shelves dedicated to Scottish stuff. Everything from milk to chocolate, from beer to meat, from potatoes to tomatoes. Everything is available in Scottish version (OK, maybe not tomatoes).
Scottish flags are everywhere and on everything. Tartan patterns as well.
Some shops offer deep fried Mars bar. I will say no more. (I have not gathered enough courage to try it, yet.)
The first thing you see when you arrive to Edinburgh Haymarket is the Scottish Gaelic name of the station: Margadh an Fheòir. This is a little warning that Scottish people are independent and will not be oppressed by the English.
Then, you learn a lot about Walter Scott. Everywhere you go, you learn the opinions of Sir Walter Scott. Anything that is shown or presented to you, there is also a small inscription about what Walter Scott thought about it.
Edinburgh Waverley - the main train station - is named after a novel. Guess who was the author! :-)
There are bagpipe players in the streets, and there are people in kilts. They have knives in their socks. They were kilts for every possible occasion. If you are male and want to dress formally in Scotland, you wear a white shirt, a jacket (a bit shorter than an ordinary suit jacket) and kilt. With formal shoes of course. If you are male and work for the castle, you wear a kilt and windstopper (and hiking shoes because there are rocks everywhere). And so on.
If you go into an ordinary shop (like Tesco or Sainsbury's), you can tell that you are in Scotland, because they have huge shelves dedicated to Scottish stuff. Everything from milk to chocolate, from beer to meat, from potatoes to tomatoes. Everything is available in Scottish version (OK, maybe not tomatoes).
Scottish flags are everywhere and on everything. Tartan patterns as well.
Some shops offer deep fried Mars bar. I will say no more. (I have not gathered enough courage to try it, yet.)
There are few things that I really don't like about Manchester. They are listed below.
- The public transport. This topic is really complex. The following p**es me off n particular:
- The traffic jams. Solution of which is priority for no one, and certainly not for the city council.
- The absolutely ridiculous tram system. And the fact that 'expansion of the tram system' really means approx. 200 m of new track in the city (useless) and a brand new line in the Quays (where there are two lines already). I guess that about a half of the Greater Manchester area has no access to the trams and is stuck in the traffic jams instead, and this bothers no one.
- The absurd ticket system. The tram tickets work only for one line. The bus tickets work only for one operator. Well, you can have bus tickets for all operators, but that is more expensive than it should be. There is one ticket which covers both all buses and all trams, but it is very expensive.
- No night buses to our place from Sunday to Thursday. Therefore, if we ever decide to go out (to pub, theater, cinema, anything), we need to either decide not to go, or hurry back before the last day bus leaves, or use private-hire (which is not that expensive, but it is too expensive to do it often).
- The absolute inability of the bus drivers (or rather their bosses?) to wait a bit to prevent arriving in packs. What use is it if 7 buses arrive at once, and then there is 45 min wait for the next 7 buses?
- The total unpredictability of the bus arrival times. Yes, there is a schedule, but that is no more than a piece of useless paper. You just cannot rely on the schedule, which means that you are usually either really early or really late. The first case is just a terrible loss of time; the latter case can have serious consequences if you miss a train, a plane, etc.
- No trees. Or almost. In the city centre, there is some grass (not much of it!), but hardly any trees.
- No sakura trees. (If there are some, please tell me where they are.)
- No proper green spaces. There are some parks, but they are scarce, and not really accessible if you don't have a car (which we do not have).
- No cultural summary available. There is no single place where you could find interesting events. In practice, you have to check all the websites of all cultural venues if you do not want to miss something. Half the times you still miss something, mostly because some events are 'intellectuals-only', and 'ordinary' people (us) never learn about them.
I think that's the stuff which I find the worst at the moment.
There are also few things that I don't like about life in the UK which are not Manchester-specific:
- Stupid and absurd bank account rules (mentioned and explained extensively before).
- The auto-censoring everyone has to perform every day in order not to commit a hate crime.
- The idea of hate-crime, I think that you should be allowed to say what you think, even if a particular group of people finds the stuff offensive. If you say stupid nonsense or absolute bulls*t (e.g. that some people are worse than other people based only on their race or gender), you deserve condemnation and you deserve disrespect - but you should not be sent into prison for that. Sending people to prison for their opinions interferes with free speech.
- CCTV everywhere. Why?
- Silly inconsistent rules about guns and weapons. I am theoretically not allowed to have anything that could be used as a weapon. This is nonsense. Even a beer in a glass bottle can be easily used as a weapon. And, on the other hand, the bad guys don't care about such bans that much, so why am I not entitled to defend myself (in a reasonable way)?
Of course there are many positive things. I guess that half of these things only really make me angry because I am used to something better, and would leave no impression if I'd come from elsewhere. But hey, of course this is Western Europe, and I've expected everything to be better here than back home in the East!
Sunday, 28 February 2016
I really like Edinburgh.
It is a city which looks very ancient. There is a castle (a big one, and pretty old, too), there are old stone houses, there are narrow streets. The city looks like it has several levels, with at least three big hills and stairs and steep streets. (The hills are most likely ancient volcanos.)
On Friday, my arrival was smooth, without a problem. However, there was a guy who could not say the same. He was a member of a bigger group (probably a stag party), and they were drinking a lot in the train already (when I came, they had had probably 2-3 beers, and since Preston, they have emptied maybe another 4 cans (0.5 l) each. They were loud, making stupid jokes, talking randomly to people (me included), and acting like drunk people in a train. The funny thing was, they wanted to alight on Edinburgh Haymarket, and one of them forgot his stuff in the train (?!), so he had to go back, running through the car like crazy, and then the train just closed the door and left with this guy in it. Thinking about it now, he was actually kinda lucky. If they had wanted to leave the train in, say, Carlisle, and he wouldn't make it, then that would be a problem. But Haymarket is maybe a mile from Edinburgh Waverley. Not a big deal, just a funny start of an undoubtedly difficult drinking weekend.
On Saturday, not much happened. We just wandered the city, and then watched some rugby in a pub. Mind you, the game makes absolutely no sense. People are fighting pointlessly over a weird ball and running into each other all the time. I thought that the point was to bring the ball somewhere, which is better done if you do not run into other people all the time, but who am I to tell English people how to play rugby...
Today, we went for a long walk which almost turned into a mountain hike. There is a 'mountain' in Edinburgh, called Artur's Seat. It is not high, so it is probably only a hill, but it seems impressive, it's relatively high and with some steep cliff-like stones and things. We wanted to go to the top of this mountain (hill). We did not know that behind this hill, there are other hills / mountains hidden, which are even bigger. We've decided to climb the highest one, and found that a) there was an incredible amount of mud, b) there was an incredible amount of people, c) it was not the best idea to climb a muddy mountain in our not-so-sporty shoes.
It seems that these hills are very popular destination, there were many people - students, families, tourists, dog-owners. And once we got there, we immediately understood why - the view is stunning. You can see everything, the sea, the city, the castle, everything.
It was all very nice.... but then, the way down, well, that was a bit more adventurous. On our way up, at least half of the mud was still frozen so it was possible to walk (the possibility was limited but it was there). On our way down, 80% of mud was really mud (the finest Scottish mud), and the rest was grass covered in morning frost. Guess what is more slippery!
Anyway, we survived. When we came down the mountains, we immediately noticed something very Scottish. It was maybe 4 C today, but the sun was shining, and for the Scottish Highlanders from Edinburgh, it was probably too hot.... because there was an ice-cream van, selling ice cream, and there was a queue, and people (some of them in T-shirts) were buying and actually eating the ice cream. O_o
In the afternoon, we went to Scottish National Gallery to see some paintings. That was also very good, and very high culture, and the space is nice, and while the collection is not as huge as in Paris or Munich, the paintings are still stunning.
But honestly, I just wonder they let us in. We were not exactly covered in mud after the mountain hike, but we were not exactly in our Sunday best either!
It is a city which looks very ancient. There is a castle (a big one, and pretty old, too), there are old stone houses, there are narrow streets. The city looks like it has several levels, with at least three big hills and stairs and steep streets. (The hills are most likely ancient volcanos.)
On Friday, my arrival was smooth, without a problem. However, there was a guy who could not say the same. He was a member of a bigger group (probably a stag party), and they were drinking a lot in the train already (when I came, they had had probably 2-3 beers, and since Preston, they have emptied maybe another 4 cans (0.5 l) each. They were loud, making stupid jokes, talking randomly to people (me included), and acting like drunk people in a train. The funny thing was, they wanted to alight on Edinburgh Haymarket, and one of them forgot his stuff in the train (?!), so he had to go back, running through the car like crazy, and then the train just closed the door and left with this guy in it. Thinking about it now, he was actually kinda lucky. If they had wanted to leave the train in, say, Carlisle, and he wouldn't make it, then that would be a problem. But Haymarket is maybe a mile from Edinburgh Waverley. Not a big deal, just a funny start of an undoubtedly difficult drinking weekend.
On Saturday, not much happened. We just wandered the city, and then watched some rugby in a pub. Mind you, the game makes absolutely no sense. People are fighting pointlessly over a weird ball and running into each other all the time. I thought that the point was to bring the ball somewhere, which is better done if you do not run into other people all the time, but who am I to tell English people how to play rugby...
Today, we went for a long walk which almost turned into a mountain hike. There is a 'mountain' in Edinburgh, called Artur's Seat. It is not high, so it is probably only a hill, but it seems impressive, it's relatively high and with some steep cliff-like stones and things. We wanted to go to the top of this mountain (hill). We did not know that behind this hill, there are other hills / mountains hidden, which are even bigger. We've decided to climb the highest one, and found that a) there was an incredible amount of mud, b) there was an incredible amount of people, c) it was not the best idea to climb a muddy mountain in our not-so-sporty shoes.
It seems that these hills are very popular destination, there were many people - students, families, tourists, dog-owners. And once we got there, we immediately understood why - the view is stunning. You can see everything, the sea, the city, the castle, everything.
It was all very nice.... but then, the way down, well, that was a bit more adventurous. On our way up, at least half of the mud was still frozen so it was possible to walk (the possibility was limited but it was there). On our way down, 80% of mud was really mud (the finest Scottish mud), and the rest was grass covered in morning frost. Guess what is more slippery!
Anyway, we survived. When we came down the mountains, we immediately noticed something very Scottish. It was maybe 4 C today, but the sun was shining, and for the Scottish Highlanders from Edinburgh, it was probably too hot.... because there was an ice-cream van, selling ice cream, and there was a queue, and people (some of them in T-shirts) were buying and actually eating the ice cream. O_o
In the afternoon, we went to Scottish National Gallery to see some paintings. That was also very good, and very high culture, and the space is nice, and while the collection is not as huge as in Paris or Munich, the paintings are still stunning.
But honestly, I just wonder they let us in. We were not exactly covered in mud after the mountain hike, but we were not exactly in our Sunday best either!
Friday, 26 February 2016
Happy birthday to me!
Right now, I am in a Virgin pendolino train to Edinburgh - this is my birthday trip, to celebrate, erm, an important birthday. As my boss has put it, I am 25 + VAT.
I don't like Virgin pendolinos. They make noises which cause me migraine, and they have suspension which is so sophisticated that it causes me motion sickness. Which I consider a scandal, because trains are just not supposed to cause motion sickness!
Anyway. My journey today is one with a change in Preston. To get to Preston, I had to take a 12.46 train from Manchester Piccadilly. However, my itinerary did not say where does that train terminate. (I think you see where this is going.) As the trains here do not have numbers or anything like that, you have to distinguish them by departure time and end station. Well, what a fun if you only have departure time and there are four different trains at 12.46!
I was lucky this time, I asked a guy in the 'information' window and he actually knew. And he was nice!
In Preston, they have quite nice train station. And I've seen some interesting WW1 'memorial' - apparently, there has been a volunteer buffet which used to feed soldiers on their way to the front. It seems that this was pretty quick - men just got a letter and in 24-36 hrs, they were supposed to be in Europe. They had to travel the whole day by trains, and in Preston, they were given some food and hot drinks.
I observe the landscape as we run through it in the train. There are many very English villages, with stone / brick houses and things. I have noticed that churches look different here. We have lots of gothic and baroque churches in the Czech Republic, but we do not have the tall, spiky towers, and we do not have the square towers with four small tower-like objects in the corners on the top of the big tower. (Hope this description is sufficient. If not, just imagine a typical English castle architecture, you'll get the idea.)
Undoubtedly as a part of my birthday present, I have learned few new English expressions today:
* a senior moment: when you are old (or 'old') and suddenly don' remember ordinary things
* throw mud and see if some of it sticks: self-explaining, means that you can say things about somebody / something and hope that people will believe you, or take into account at least part of what you say (in the legal context, it means making submissions and hope that even if most of it is rejected, some of it will be accepted and will form base of favourable decision)
* with blazing guns: stating your arguments with all the confidence and energy available, even if you feel they are not 100% right - you say the stuff anyway and pretend that it's all cool
* ball in a china shop: causing more harm than benefit
Right now, I am in a Virgin pendolino train to Edinburgh - this is my birthday trip, to celebrate, erm, an important birthday. As my boss has put it, I am 25 + VAT.
I don't like Virgin pendolinos. They make noises which cause me migraine, and they have suspension which is so sophisticated that it causes me motion sickness. Which I consider a scandal, because trains are just not supposed to cause motion sickness!
Anyway. My journey today is one with a change in Preston. To get to Preston, I had to take a 12.46 train from Manchester Piccadilly. However, my itinerary did not say where does that train terminate. (I think you see where this is going.) As the trains here do not have numbers or anything like that, you have to distinguish them by departure time and end station. Well, what a fun if you only have departure time and there are four different trains at 12.46!
I was lucky this time, I asked a guy in the 'information' window and he actually knew. And he was nice!
In Preston, they have quite nice train station. And I've seen some interesting WW1 'memorial' - apparently, there has been a volunteer buffet which used to feed soldiers on their way to the front. It seems that this was pretty quick - men just got a letter and in 24-36 hrs, they were supposed to be in Europe. They had to travel the whole day by trains, and in Preston, they were given some food and hot drinks.
I observe the landscape as we run through it in the train. There are many very English villages, with stone / brick houses and things. I have noticed that churches look different here. We have lots of gothic and baroque churches in the Czech Republic, but we do not have the tall, spiky towers, and we do not have the square towers with four small tower-like objects in the corners on the top of the big tower. (Hope this description is sufficient. If not, just imagine a typical English castle architecture, you'll get the idea.)
Undoubtedly as a part of my birthday present, I have learned few new English expressions today:
* a senior moment: when you are old (or 'old') and suddenly don' remember ordinary things
* throw mud and see if some of it sticks: self-explaining, means that you can say things about somebody / something and hope that people will believe you, or take into account at least part of what you say (in the legal context, it means making submissions and hope that even if most of it is rejected, some of it will be accepted and will form base of favourable decision)
* with blazing guns: stating your arguments with all the confidence and energy available, even if you feel they are not 100% right - you say the stuff anyway and pretend that it's all cool
* ball in a china shop: causing more harm than benefit
Thursday, 25 February 2016
My husband's bank account is still in existence, and every day it exists, it is less likely that it would be cancelled. In other words - I see the light at the end of the tunnel my new shoes coming.
Birthday-related customs here are different from those in my country. For a start, in the Czech Republic, we wish each other lots of health, happiness, and so on. People here do not use similar expressions, they usually wish you happy birthday and that's that. But to do so, they use the cards. I got three already, and my birthday is not today but tomorrow!
Also, when we wish someone all the above mentioned things, we usually shake hands. People here apparently love hugging, and so they do it when wishing each other happy birthday. (We hardly ever hug each other in the Czech Republic. Or, to be more accurate, we didn't used to do so. These days, many people have seen hugging in the TV, on the internet etc., and started doing it!)
The most amazing part is that here, it appears to be ok to wish someone happy birthday in advance. In the Czech Republic, this is sometimes seen as bringing bad luck (the origin being that the elves and evil spirits learn about your birthday and start doing bad things to you), so people often don't feel comfortable doing such things. But here... no one seems disturbed.
Anyway. Few new English expressions:
Birthday-related customs here are different from those in my country. For a start, in the Czech Republic, we wish each other lots of health, happiness, and so on. People here do not use similar expressions, they usually wish you happy birthday and that's that. But to do so, they use the cards. I got three already, and my birthday is not today but tomorrow!
Also, when we wish someone all the above mentioned things, we usually shake hands. People here apparently love hugging, and so they do it when wishing each other happy birthday. (We hardly ever hug each other in the Czech Republic. Or, to be more accurate, we didn't used to do so. These days, many people have seen hugging in the TV, on the internet etc., and started doing it!)
The most amazing part is that here, it appears to be ok to wish someone happy birthday in advance. In the Czech Republic, this is sometimes seen as bringing bad luck (the origin being that the elves and evil spirits learn about your birthday and start doing bad things to you), so people often don't feel comfortable doing such things. But here... no one seems disturbed.
Anyway. Few new English expressions:
- send someone on wild geese chase = send him to find and/or fetch something that the person cannot find
- it comes like buses = this familiar work related situation when one day, you do pretty much nothing, and the next day you are crazy because 2000 things need to be done right now (this comes from real life - buses here work like this, you wait for 3/4 hr and then 8 buses come at once)
- the best of a bad lot = nothing's good but of these not good things, this one is the least bad
And one thing which is a bit personal. I have realized that it's been an entire year since I've taken probably the most difficult exams in my life. It was a truly life-changing experience.
Monday, 22 February 2016
1. Me and my husband, we went to bank on Saturday, to start an account for him. It went well, and now we just wonder whether the account will last some a posteriori sweeps by the bank's anti-money-laundering team. We'll see - it would be nice to have some extra money!
One funny thing happened in the bank. The employee who was working through the application with us was a nice, polite young lady, who asked us few polite questions (where in the Czech Republic are you from, why did you move to the UK, do you like Manchester, what do you do for living). My husband answered the last question honestly, and told the young lady that he works for a bank, is a credit risk guy, and things like that. Then, she turned to me, and asked something like 'and what do you do, do you work in a restaurant'? Well, no, I don't! :)
2. There has been one more funny thing: the date for EU referendum has been set. We live here, but we are not UK citizens (or people from Cyprus or Malta), so we don't get a vote in this. The news now don't inform bout anything else than this, and there are pictures of PM saying stuff, ministers saying stuff, MPs saying stuff, and pretty much everyone saying stuff.
The most important question of course was 'which side is Boris going to be campaigning for'. Well, this side:
http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-politics-eu-referendum-35626621
http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-politics-eu-referendum-35627361
Why does it matter? Because it does! This is Boris, the most popular politician (if you like him) - or the most ridiculous politician (if you don't like him). I guess that half the nation will vote for exit because Boris votes for exit, and the other half will vote for staying in the EU because Boris votes for exit. You see? Don't question Boris' importance!
3. And one personal funny thing, which is completely unrelated. English / British people sometimes tell me how good my English is. They recognize immediately that I am not British, but they usually cannot really guess where am I from. And my colleagues as well as random people sometimes say, 'your English is very good'!
But two of my bosses (independently of each other!) have said something which made me really proud. When I mentioned that I am not a native speaker, one of my bosses said: 'Yes, it is easy to forget that.' And, on a different day and in an unrelated discussion, another of my bosses said: 'Yes, that's actually a fair point. When I talk to you, I do not see a non-native speaker, I usually think that I speak to an English person.'
Ha haaa! :-)
One funny thing happened in the bank. The employee who was working through the application with us was a nice, polite young lady, who asked us few polite questions (where in the Czech Republic are you from, why did you move to the UK, do you like Manchester, what do you do for living). My husband answered the last question honestly, and told the young lady that he works for a bank, is a credit risk guy, and things like that. Then, she turned to me, and asked something like 'and what do you do, do you work in a restaurant'? Well, no, I don't! :)
2. There has been one more funny thing: the date for EU referendum has been set. We live here, but we are not UK citizens (or people from Cyprus or Malta), so we don't get a vote in this. The news now don't inform bout anything else than this, and there are pictures of PM saying stuff, ministers saying stuff, MPs saying stuff, and pretty much everyone saying stuff.
The most important question of course was 'which side is Boris going to be campaigning for'. Well, this side:
http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-politics-eu-referendum-35626621
http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-politics-eu-referendum-35627361
Why does it matter? Because it does! This is Boris, the most popular politician (if you like him) - or the most ridiculous politician (if you don't like him). I guess that half the nation will vote for exit because Boris votes for exit, and the other half will vote for staying in the EU because Boris votes for exit. You see? Don't question Boris' importance!
3. And one personal funny thing, which is completely unrelated. English / British people sometimes tell me how good my English is. They recognize immediately that I am not British, but they usually cannot really guess where am I from. And my colleagues as well as random people sometimes say, 'your English is very good'!
But two of my bosses (independently of each other!) have said something which made me really proud. When I mentioned that I am not a native speaker, one of my bosses said: 'Yes, it is easy to forget that.' And, on a different day and in an unrelated discussion, another of my bosses said: 'Yes, that's actually a fair point. When I talk to you, I do not see a non-native speaker, I usually think that I speak to an English person.'
Ha haaa! :-)
Friday was our company's karaoke night.
I don't know whether you've ever been to karaoke. For me, Friday was the first time ever. I expected something ridiculous, awkward and embarrassing (...so my expectations were pretty low!). I got something which was actually quite funny and nice.
Very close to our office, there is Manchester's Chinatown. (I am not sure I've mentioned this before.) Chinatown means a lot of Chinese / Japanese / generally Asian restaurants, Asia market style shops selling tea, noodles, spiky fruits, fish heads, coconut juice (three different brands!) and also some stinking weird stuff (no offence). Chinatown also means quite a few karaoke bars. We went to the biggest one - maybe five floors of small rooms with upholstered walls and a TV and a couch and of course the karaoke machine!
So, there is a big screen on which music videos are played. There is a small screen on which you select which songs to play. There are two mics, with a funny plastic collar so that when you put them down on the table, they don't touch the upper desk. There are door which are almost soundproof and on which there is a warning than anyone caught vomiting will have to pay £20 cleaning fee. (Seriously!)
Once you select the songs, they go into your playlist and they are played, one by one. Lyrics appear on the screen, and when it is time to sing, they start changing colour; the stuff which is to follow is still white, and the stuff which has been sung is bluish or greenish. The only thing you have to do is pick up the mic and start singing! (And drink a lot of Chinese beer or wine in the meantime.)
As mentioned above, I quite enjoyed the evening. I don't know many pop songs, which is a shame (because karaoke is usually about the most hardcore pop there is), but I knew few of them, and so I could sing at least something. I mean, yes, I did it! I sang! After initial fear of being embarrassed to death, I've discovered that it wasn't so bad, that everyone embarrassed himself/herself equally, and that 'this is why the room has the door'. People were actually encouraging me, and the atmosphere was that of acceptance (something like 'no one can sing like a pro, some are better than others, but that is not the point, we are here to have fun' - an attitude which I quite enjoyed).
And just for the sake of completeness - I was asked by colleagues to sing a Czech folk song. So I did!
I don't know whether you've ever been to karaoke. For me, Friday was the first time ever. I expected something ridiculous, awkward and embarrassing (...so my expectations were pretty low!). I got something which was actually quite funny and nice.
Very close to our office, there is Manchester's Chinatown. (I am not sure I've mentioned this before.) Chinatown means a lot of Chinese / Japanese / generally Asian restaurants, Asia market style shops selling tea, noodles, spiky fruits, fish heads, coconut juice (three different brands!) and also some stinking weird stuff (no offence). Chinatown also means quite a few karaoke bars. We went to the biggest one - maybe five floors of small rooms with upholstered walls and a TV and a couch and of course the karaoke machine!
So, there is a big screen on which music videos are played. There is a small screen on which you select which songs to play. There are two mics, with a funny plastic collar so that when you put them down on the table, they don't touch the upper desk. There are door which are almost soundproof and on which there is a warning than anyone caught vomiting will have to pay £20 cleaning fee. (Seriously!)
Once you select the songs, they go into your playlist and they are played, one by one. Lyrics appear on the screen, and when it is time to sing, they start changing colour; the stuff which is to follow is still white, and the stuff which has been sung is bluish or greenish. The only thing you have to do is pick up the mic and start singing! (And drink a lot of Chinese beer or wine in the meantime.)
As mentioned above, I quite enjoyed the evening. I don't know many pop songs, which is a shame (because karaoke is usually about the most hardcore pop there is), but I knew few of them, and so I could sing at least something. I mean, yes, I did it! I sang! After initial fear of being embarrassed to death, I've discovered that it wasn't so bad, that everyone embarrassed himself/herself equally, and that 'this is why the room has the door'. People were actually encouraging me, and the atmosphere was that of acceptance (something like 'no one can sing like a pro, some are better than others, but that is not the point, we are here to have fun' - an attitude which I quite enjoyed).
And just for the sake of completeness - I was asked by colleagues to sing a Czech folk song. So I did!
Wednesday, 17 February 2016
There is one funny thing about beer which is worth mentioning.
In the Czech Republic, you can buy bottled beer. You can buy lots of brands (usually, like, 10 000 Czech brands, but also some Belgian and Dutch, and very few German), in two different sizes (0.5 l and if you are lucky than also 0.33 l).
Here, the beer reality is different. First thing is, they sell many brands. Not only thousands of English / British brands (mostly ales and IPAs, with cheerful labels), but also many international brands (Indian (Cobra and others), Chinese (famous Tsing Tao), Japanese (e.g. Asahi and Kirin Ichiban, do not mix with Kirin Amgen!), Thai (Tiger!), Greek (Mythos, of course, and also this one which is not really Greek but I don't know the right adjective form of 'Cyprus'), Dutch (my favourite Grolsch, which is very popular with all home brewers because of the reclosable bottle), German (wheat beer as well as lager, too many brands to list them), French (mostly this beer with year but also other more obscure brands), Italian (Peroni), Spanish (mostly San Miguel), US (Coors Light and Budweiser, which I don't like!), Polish (many brands, e.g. Tyskie), Czech (many many brands, for example the real Budweiser or the absolute classic Pilsner), and so on, and so on).
However, what I find even more interesting are the bottle sizes. Apart from the 'classic' 0.5 l and 0.33 l you also have pint (understandable here in the UK), 0.66 l (...two small beers in one bottle, and I bet many Czech people would consider this ideal size!), 275 ml, 450 ml, 375 ml, 250 ml, and then many random numbers which I don't remember because they are so random!
In the Czech Republic, you can buy bottled beer. You can buy lots of brands (usually, like, 10 000 Czech brands, but also some Belgian and Dutch, and very few German), in two different sizes (0.5 l and if you are lucky than also 0.33 l).
Here, the beer reality is different. First thing is, they sell many brands. Not only thousands of English / British brands (mostly ales and IPAs, with cheerful labels), but also many international brands (Indian (Cobra and others), Chinese (famous Tsing Tao), Japanese (e.g. Asahi and Kirin Ichiban, do not mix with Kirin Amgen!), Thai (Tiger!), Greek (Mythos, of course, and also this one which is not really Greek but I don't know the right adjective form of 'Cyprus'), Dutch (my favourite Grolsch, which is very popular with all home brewers because of the reclosable bottle), German (wheat beer as well as lager, too many brands to list them), French (mostly this beer with year but also other more obscure brands), Italian (Peroni), Spanish (mostly San Miguel), US (Coors Light and Budweiser, which I don't like!), Polish (many brands, e.g. Tyskie), Czech (many many brands, for example the real Budweiser or the absolute classic Pilsner), and so on, and so on).
However, what I find even more interesting are the bottle sizes. Apart from the 'classic' 0.5 l and 0.33 l you also have pint (understandable here in the UK), 0.66 l (...two small beers in one bottle, and I bet many Czech people would consider this ideal size!), 275 ml, 450 ml, 375 ml, 250 ml, and then many random numbers which I don't remember because they are so random!
Monday, 15 February 2016
This is to describe my husband's adventures with bank account.
As mentioned previously on this blog, my husband has arrived to the UK at the end of October / beginning of November. Since then, he's got a job (congrats), he's eaten quite few burgers, he's seen some Northern cities, he's been sent to Edinburgh for training more than once, he figured out where and how to buy 'tvaroh', and so on. In every aspect, he is now reasonably well adapted guy.
Except that he has no bank account, and therefore he cannot receive his salary.
There are probably two whys in this one sentence. Why he has no bank account? And why he cannot get paid?
Both the questions have a simple answer: anti-money laundering rules.
The second question is easier to answer. You cannot get your money cash, because you are presumed guilty of money laundering (or financing terrorism, which is even worse), and if you get cash, you are assumed to immediately do bad things with the money. And you cannot get cheque, because (as mentioned already) you cannot get cash, your cheque has to be paid to your bank account.
The first question has a similar answer (again you are seen as someone who is very keen to engage in criminal activities), and it is further connected to a magical piece of paper called 'proof of address'. To get a bank account, you have to be able to prove that you live somewhere. If you live somewhere, you do not do criminal things, and you do not launder money. (Logic!) However, it must not be just 'somewhere', and the required standard of proof is not balance of probabilities at all.
As a proof, you can bring for example:
- utilities bill (it varies with different banks which kind of utilities bill is accepted),
- one specific HMRC letter (not just any HMRC letter!) which apparently not everyone receives,
- your NIN letter (but this does not work with every bank, some do not accept NIN letters),
- letters about government benefits if you receive any,
- UK driving licence,
- bank statement with your address (must be sent by post on paper, electronically certified statements do not count).
As mentioned previously, we now live in a shared place = we do not pay the utilities. The HMRC letter is sent approx in April, and not everyone receives one anyway. NIN letter is rarely accepted these days. We do not receive anything from the government (and proud of it!). Neither if us has UK driving licence, because obtaining a UK driving licence means sending our passports to the offices by post, which is something we are not ready to do. And the bank statements... well, if you have no bank account, how can you bring a bank statement?
Now, my husband works in a bank. Specifically, he works in credit risk. These credit risk people handle a lot of responsibility, have to be trusted by the bank, and therefore are very thoroughly checked. Before getting his job, my husband had to prove in many ways that he had never been involved in anything illegal (from fraud to bad parking), and that he was clean as a whistle. All these checks etc. took approx. 8 weeks, and had to be conducted in the UK as well as the Czech Republic.
Which of course does not mean that his bank, or any other bank, can set him a bank account. Being employed by a bank means nothing, and in particular it does not mean that you (i) are not money launderer, (ii) live somewhere. The fact that you work in credit risk means less then nothing in terms of your proof of address. You just don't have one, and that's that. Effectively, you are homeless.
We live nowhere, we do not exist, and while my husband works, he hasn't seen a single penny. Which pisses his boss off, but nether the boss nor the boss' bosses can do anything about this.
We have tried to negotiate with the banks. We have tried to point out that my husband works in credit risk and is thus trustworthy. Our landlady has made us a nice letter stating that my husband lives here in our house. We have tried really everything but this is like a real catch-22.
And the worst thing about all this? My husband has promised to buy me new shoes as soon as he gets his first money earned in the UK. Imagine how bad I feel now! I will probably never see my new shoes!
As mentioned previously on this blog, my husband has arrived to the UK at the end of October / beginning of November. Since then, he's got a job (congrats), he's eaten quite few burgers, he's seen some Northern cities, he's been sent to Edinburgh for training more than once, he figured out where and how to buy 'tvaroh', and so on. In every aspect, he is now reasonably well adapted guy.
Except that he has no bank account, and therefore he cannot receive his salary.
There are probably two whys in this one sentence. Why he has no bank account? And why he cannot get paid?
Both the questions have a simple answer: anti-money laundering rules.
The second question is easier to answer. You cannot get your money cash, because you are presumed guilty of money laundering (or financing terrorism, which is even worse), and if you get cash, you are assumed to immediately do bad things with the money. And you cannot get cheque, because (as mentioned already) you cannot get cash, your cheque has to be paid to your bank account.
The first question has a similar answer (again you are seen as someone who is very keen to engage in criminal activities), and it is further connected to a magical piece of paper called 'proof of address'. To get a bank account, you have to be able to prove that you live somewhere. If you live somewhere, you do not do criminal things, and you do not launder money. (Logic!) However, it must not be just 'somewhere', and the required standard of proof is not balance of probabilities at all.
As a proof, you can bring for example:
- utilities bill (it varies with different banks which kind of utilities bill is accepted),
- one specific HMRC letter (not just any HMRC letter!) which apparently not everyone receives,
- your NIN letter (but this does not work with every bank, some do not accept NIN letters),
- letters about government benefits if you receive any,
- UK driving licence,
- bank statement with your address (must be sent by post on paper, electronically certified statements do not count).
As mentioned previously, we now live in a shared place = we do not pay the utilities. The HMRC letter is sent approx in April, and not everyone receives one anyway. NIN letter is rarely accepted these days. We do not receive anything from the government (and proud of it!). Neither if us has UK driving licence, because obtaining a UK driving licence means sending our passports to the offices by post, which is something we are not ready to do. And the bank statements... well, if you have no bank account, how can you bring a bank statement?
Now, my husband works in a bank. Specifically, he works in credit risk. These credit risk people handle a lot of responsibility, have to be trusted by the bank, and therefore are very thoroughly checked. Before getting his job, my husband had to prove in many ways that he had never been involved in anything illegal (from fraud to bad parking), and that he was clean as a whistle. All these checks etc. took approx. 8 weeks, and had to be conducted in the UK as well as the Czech Republic.
Which of course does not mean that his bank, or any other bank, can set him a bank account. Being employed by a bank means nothing, and in particular it does not mean that you (i) are not money launderer, (ii) live somewhere. The fact that you work in credit risk means less then nothing in terms of your proof of address. You just don't have one, and that's that. Effectively, you are homeless.
We live nowhere, we do not exist, and while my husband works, he hasn't seen a single penny. Which pisses his boss off, but nether the boss nor the boss' bosses can do anything about this.
We have tried to negotiate with the banks. We have tried to point out that my husband works in credit risk and is thus trustworthy. Our landlady has made us a nice letter stating that my husband lives here in our house. We have tried really everything but this is like a real catch-22.
And the worst thing about all this? My husband has promised to buy me new shoes as soon as he gets his first money earned in the UK. Imagine how bad I feel now! I will probably never see my new shoes!
Do you know this symbol? To me, it looks like a weird ice cream. :)
I have occasionally encountered this picture before, on various items such as condoms and car windows. Here in the UK, this symbol appears much more frequently, not only on the above mentioned, but also on manhole covers, mobile phones, buses, and fire extinguishers (to name a few). And recently (yesterday), I have figured out what it means.
It means British Standard - so it is something like ISO or ČSN, but it's British and therefore much more important (of course).
There is a Wikipedia article: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/British_Standards. Recommended reading before bed!
If you want to know something about cricket balls, just open BS 5993 and there you go. Interested in locomotives for Indian railways? Nothing can be more simple than opening BS 50! But be careful: there is also BS 5 and BS 26, both superseded by BS 50. Noisy neighbours? BS 8233 Guidance on sound insulation and noise reduction in buildings is the answer.
There are standards on plastic colours used in construction as well as industrial electrical connectors, and more. You can spend a whole evening laughing at this and quizzing your spouse or kids for fun.
Long live the weird ice cream!
I have occasionally encountered this picture before, on various items such as condoms and car windows. Here in the UK, this symbol appears much more frequently, not only on the above mentioned, but also on manhole covers, mobile phones, buses, and fire extinguishers (to name a few). And recently (yesterday), I have figured out what it means.
It means British Standard - so it is something like ISO or ČSN, but it's British and therefore much more important (of course).
There is a Wikipedia article: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/British_Standards. Recommended reading before bed!
If you want to know something about cricket balls, just open BS 5993 and there you go. Interested in locomotives for Indian railways? Nothing can be more simple than opening BS 50! But be careful: there is also BS 5 and BS 26, both superseded by BS 50. Noisy neighbours? BS 8233 Guidance on sound insulation and noise reduction in buildings is the answer.
There are standards on plastic colours used in construction as well as industrial electrical connectors, and more. You can spend a whole evening laughing at this and quizzing your spouse or kids for fun.
Long live the weird ice cream!
Sunday, 31 January 2016
Another trip to Europe; this time it was a bit unexpected. But nevermind, I enjoy meeting my European (i.e. not British) friends!
It all started in the usual way: trains. I learn from my own mistakes, and so I came to Piccadilly earlier than last time. One train left just as I arrived to the airport (bad luck). Next train to the airport was scheduled at 15.37 from platform 13. All the signs were in agreement: platform 13. So I went to platform 13.
Just before you actually go down the stairs to platform 13, there is a sign... which insisted that next train goes at 15.43 to Liverpool Lime St. However, three metres back, another sign said that the 15.37 airport train goes from 13. So I went down. The first thing I've noticed was a huge platform sign saying that next train goes at 14.58 to airport. Which was funny because it was, like, 15.30 already. Then, a train arrived. I know how things go in Manchester, so I asked a train company employee. 'Nope, this train does not go to the airport,' confirmed the lady what I already knew. When asked about the final destination of the present train, she responded with some funny name (maybe Welsh?) and that was that.
Anyway, this time I was lucky, and the next train that arrived was the 15.37 train to Manchester airport.
During this funny process of looking for your train and asking various people dressed in the railway colours, I relfected on various cultures. I've recently read some articles about Japan. In particular, the articles mentioned that Japan is 'train culture', people ride trains every day. Japanese people are in fact 'hobby drivers', driving their cars only during weekends. Well, if I could say anything about UK people, it'd actually not be the exact opposite - it would be a 'twisted opposite'. At least some people in Manchester use trains quite a lot, they do not all go by car to work! Generally, many people travel by train every day (and I suspect that it's not only Mcr, in London it's even worse). However, this is not reflected in the quality of service, which can be described by many very interesting synonyms of the word 'a joke'.
Hi ho.
In Europe, it was kinda refreshing to be able to joke with people in more 'free' manner. I realized that in the UK, people are afraid of generalisations of any kind, and attributing a certain behaviour to a certain group of people, and making certain kind of fun of people. They are in fact terrified of offending someone, and practice a lot of auto-censorship.
Example of such forbidden statement statement may be: French people drink wine and occasionaly eat frogs. Statistically, this is absolutely right, this is how it is. French people drink wine (and are damn proud of their wine, and I think they have every possible right to be proud of their excellent wine), and at least some of them, and at least sometimes, eat frogs.
I am quite sure they would not be insulted at all: they love their wine, and if the one person you are talking with doesn't like frogs, s/he would tell you, but agree that other people eat frogs, and it is also tourist trap! You'd laugh together, and that's that.
My point is, there's nothing too bad about making such statements in Europe, while in the UK, this is an absolute no-no. We had a discussion once about prices of things. I mentioned that certain things, which cost, like, 1620 euro, are expensive for Czech people, because the average monthly salary (before tax) in the Czech Republic is 900 euro. British people were surprised, they have never realized this.
Then someone mentioned something like 'imagine how expensive this is for Africans'. Well, hell expensive, I guess, because in general people are not as rich in Africa as they are in Europe, even in Eastern Europe. This is in my opinion again a statistically correct statement. However, one guy got kinda angry, and started saying things like 'there is no such thing as Africa!'
I had to ask someone else for explanations, and they told me that the guy has just been angry because we say 'Africa' and mean everyone in Africa and Africa is big and diverse and it is not nice to just summarize all these beautiful, unique and diverse people in one judging word 'Africa'. I don't think we've done such thing, but hey. Objectively seen, there is Africa. I have been there. I have seen it. It's on the map, and it's on the internet, and BBC inform about AFrica every day, so I think its existence is proved beyond doubt!
What I am trying to say is that it was a relief, to be able to say things about people, to express your opinion freely, and to be able to refer to some very well known national characteristics. I mean, some people certainly do not fit in the 'average' of their country/nation, but some just do, and you should be allowed to say it aloud!
It all started in the usual way: trains. I learn from my own mistakes, and so I came to Piccadilly earlier than last time. One train left just as I arrived to the airport (bad luck). Next train to the airport was scheduled at 15.37 from platform 13. All the signs were in agreement: platform 13. So I went to platform 13.
Just before you actually go down the stairs to platform 13, there is a sign... which insisted that next train goes at 15.43 to Liverpool Lime St. However, three metres back, another sign said that the 15.37 airport train goes from 13. So I went down. The first thing I've noticed was a huge platform sign saying that next train goes at 14.58 to airport. Which was funny because it was, like, 15.30 already. Then, a train arrived. I know how things go in Manchester, so I asked a train company employee. 'Nope, this train does not go to the airport,' confirmed the lady what I already knew. When asked about the final destination of the present train, she responded with some funny name (maybe Welsh?) and that was that.
Anyway, this time I was lucky, and the next train that arrived was the 15.37 train to Manchester airport.
During this funny process of looking for your train and asking various people dressed in the railway colours, I relfected on various cultures. I've recently read some articles about Japan. In particular, the articles mentioned that Japan is 'train culture', people ride trains every day. Japanese people are in fact 'hobby drivers', driving their cars only during weekends. Well, if I could say anything about UK people, it'd actually not be the exact opposite - it would be a 'twisted opposite'. At least some people in Manchester use trains quite a lot, they do not all go by car to work! Generally, many people travel by train every day (and I suspect that it's not only Mcr, in London it's even worse). However, this is not reflected in the quality of service, which can be described by many very interesting synonyms of the word 'a joke'.
Hi ho.
In Europe, it was kinda refreshing to be able to joke with people in more 'free' manner. I realized that in the UK, people are afraid of generalisations of any kind, and attributing a certain behaviour to a certain group of people, and making certain kind of fun of people. They are in fact terrified of offending someone, and practice a lot of auto-censorship.
Example of such forbidden statement statement may be: French people drink wine and occasionaly eat frogs. Statistically, this is absolutely right, this is how it is. French people drink wine (and are damn proud of their wine, and I think they have every possible right to be proud of their excellent wine), and at least some of them, and at least sometimes, eat frogs.
I am quite sure they would not be insulted at all: they love their wine, and if the one person you are talking with doesn't like frogs, s/he would tell you, but agree that other people eat frogs, and it is also tourist trap! You'd laugh together, and that's that.
My point is, there's nothing too bad about making such statements in Europe, while in the UK, this is an absolute no-no. We had a discussion once about prices of things. I mentioned that certain things, which cost, like, 1620 euro, are expensive for Czech people, because the average monthly salary (before tax) in the Czech Republic is 900 euro. British people were surprised, they have never realized this.
Then someone mentioned something like 'imagine how expensive this is for Africans'. Well, hell expensive, I guess, because in general people are not as rich in Africa as they are in Europe, even in Eastern Europe. This is in my opinion again a statistically correct statement. However, one guy got kinda angry, and started saying things like 'there is no such thing as Africa!'
I had to ask someone else for explanations, and they told me that the guy has just been angry because we say 'Africa' and mean everyone in Africa and Africa is big and diverse and it is not nice to just summarize all these beautiful, unique and diverse people in one judging word 'Africa'. I don't think we've done such thing, but hey. Objectively seen, there is Africa. I have been there. I have seen it. It's on the map, and it's on the internet, and BBC inform about AFrica every day, so I think its existence is proved beyond doubt!
What I am trying to say is that it was a relief, to be able to say things about people, to express your opinion freely, and to be able to refer to some very well known national characteristics. I mean, some people certainly do not fit in the 'average' of their country/nation, but some just do, and you should be allowed to say it aloud!
Tuesday, 19 January 2016
There are few funny things I wanted to mention about English British people.
First thing. The patron saint of Wales is St David. Therefore nearly all men from Wales are called David.
Second thing. The other day, I went to a restaurant with my colleagues (a company tradition...). It was an Italian restaurant. One guy ordered something called 'pizza Inglese' (or something like that, I don't speak Italian, so there is a risk that I got this wrong). This is basically pizza - with fried egg, bacon, and black pudding!
Would you ever, ever put black pudding on pizza? I think that only English people do things like that.
First thing. The patron saint of Wales is St David. Therefore nearly all men from Wales are called David.
Second thing. The other day, I went to a restaurant with my colleagues (a company tradition...). It was an Italian restaurant. One guy ordered something called 'pizza Inglese' (or something like that, I don't speak Italian, so there is a risk that I got this wrong). This is basically pizza - with fried egg, bacon, and black pudding!
Would you ever, ever put black pudding on pizza? I think that only English people do things like that.
Have you ever noticed that
a) £2 coin looks very similar to 2 € coin, because both are big bi-colored coins, and
b) £5 looks almost like 5 €, because they are both small green banknotes?
Well, I have made myself look like a fool because of this.
Usual me: I forgot to take the euro notes and coins out of my wallet. Then I went to Aldi, selected stuff to buy, removed all my euro coins from my wallet and placed them into my pocket (in order not to mix them!), and waited in a cashier line. My stuff cost £3.25, and I was happy that I had enough coins.
Wait, that's 2 euros, said the cashier lady. I apologized, cursed silently, checked whether there were any more coins left, found no £2 coin, and took out a £5 note.
Wait, euro again, said the cashier lady. So I apologized again, cursed silently again, and gave her £20 instead. I made pretty sure that there was the smiling queen on the note before handing it in.
:-)
a) £2 coin looks very similar to 2 € coin, because both are big bi-colored coins, and
b) £5 looks almost like 5 €, because they are both small green banknotes?
Well, I have made myself look like a fool because of this.
Usual me: I forgot to take the euro notes and coins out of my wallet. Then I went to Aldi, selected stuff to buy, removed all my euro coins from my wallet and placed them into my pocket (in order not to mix them!), and waited in a cashier line. My stuff cost £3.25, and I was happy that I had enough coins.
Wait, that's 2 euros, said the cashier lady. I apologized, cursed silently, checked whether there were any more coins left, found no £2 coin, and took out a £5 note.
Wait, euro again, said the cashier lady. So I apologized again, cursed silently again, and gave her £20 instead. I made pretty sure that there was the smiling queen on the note before handing it in.
:-)
Sunday, 17 January 2016
My identity crisis continues!
I have visited Europe for the second time since moving to the UK, and I feel so ridiculous here! Plus, I have no idea where do I belong, who am I, and stuff like that.
I have no idea why, but I really do have a problem with the fact that traffic in the UK is on the 'wrong' side. (Definitely on the wrong side, not just on the left side. It's just wrong and that's that.) I still occasionally overlook approaching car or bike, especially when I go for a bus in the morning. Driving on the left side also means that if you meet a person, that person goes to the left when s/he wants to avoid you. And the roundabouts are... wait... clockwise. (I am actually never sure, and it takes me a while to figure this out!)
Now imagine me, back in Europe. You'd expect me to be cool and relaxed, looking on the correct side when crossing the street, not jumping under trams and cars, not experiencing any problems in avoiding people, etc. etc. Right?
Wrong! Of course! In the UK, I always look on the wrong side when crossing the street, and the same now applies in Europe! I just do the European way in the UK, and I do the UK way in Europe! Goodness, why? And just today, I nearly walked into a guy. I avoided him, but it felt awkward. Only after he looked at me like I was crazy I realized that I have just avoided him the UK way... in Europe.
Well, I am not sure this will ever get better.
On a more positive side, there was snow in Europe, lots of snow. I enjoyed that a lot. just the looks of it. I really like snow; sometimes I just wonder why on Earth have I chosen rainy England.
I also enjoyed watching European trams. I don't know why, but the funny Manchester trams just seem unreal to me; these European trams are much more solid, present.
I have visited Europe for the second time since moving to the UK, and I feel so ridiculous here! Plus, I have no idea where do I belong, who am I, and stuff like that.
I have no idea why, but I really do have a problem with the fact that traffic in the UK is on the 'wrong' side. (Definitely on the wrong side, not just on the left side. It's just wrong and that's that.) I still occasionally overlook approaching car or bike, especially when I go for a bus in the morning. Driving on the left side also means that if you meet a person, that person goes to the left when s/he wants to avoid you. And the roundabouts are... wait... clockwise. (I am actually never sure, and it takes me a while to figure this out!)
Now imagine me, back in Europe. You'd expect me to be cool and relaxed, looking on the correct side when crossing the street, not jumping under trams and cars, not experiencing any problems in avoiding people, etc. etc. Right?
Wrong! Of course! In the UK, I always look on the wrong side when crossing the street, and the same now applies in Europe! I just do the European way in the UK, and I do the UK way in Europe! Goodness, why? And just today, I nearly walked into a guy. I avoided him, but it felt awkward. Only after he looked at me like I was crazy I realized that I have just avoided him the UK way... in Europe.
Well, I am not sure this will ever get better.
On a more positive side, there was snow in Europe, lots of snow. I enjoyed that a lot. just the looks of it. I really like snow; sometimes I just wonder why on Earth have I chosen rainy England.
I also enjoyed watching European trams. I don't know why, but the funny Manchester trams just seem unreal to me; these European trams are much more solid, present.
Thursday, 14 January 2016
I have visited Cambridge for the first time!
It takes approx. 4 hours in various trains to get there from Manchester. By the way, I have noticed that the Virgin trains which run from Mcr to London probably cause me migraines, because they make some sub-sonic noise.
The only really interesting thing about the journey is that you can buy a train ticket which also works for London metro, between Euston and King's Cross. You just insert the train ticket into the automatic machine, and it lets you go through, and you can ride one station by metro! Isn't it funny?
Cambridge gives an awful first impression (at least when you arrive from London), and a very good second impression.
When you arrive from London, there is a building which looks pretty much like some really ugly industrial establishment, perhaps some waste management facility or something like that. It's box-like and with a huge chimney, and you just wonder - and that's that? Everyone says Cambridge is very nice, but the only thing I see is this? (I was later told that this ugly building is a hospital.)
Then you come to a train station (which is just usual train station), and you have to walk, like, 20 min from the train station to the city centre. This walk is not really the nicest in the world - the street is just an ugly big street with a lot of traffic, and the buildings are not particularly interesting or beautiful. And during the whole walk, you just wonder: and that's that?
And then you arrive to the city centre, and you see all the beautiful stuff! There are the white-stone neo-gothic buildings, with the gardens and the arches, and all the things from postcards. It looks like bright Hogwarts. :-)
The downside is that all these nice buildings have a very clear message on their door: keep off, college members only.
It takes approx. 4 hours in various trains to get there from Manchester. By the way, I have noticed that the Virgin trains which run from Mcr to London probably cause me migraines, because they make some sub-sonic noise.
The only really interesting thing about the journey is that you can buy a train ticket which also works for London metro, between Euston and King's Cross. You just insert the train ticket into the automatic machine, and it lets you go through, and you can ride one station by metro! Isn't it funny?
Cambridge gives an awful first impression (at least when you arrive from London), and a very good second impression.
When you arrive from London, there is a building which looks pretty much like some really ugly industrial establishment, perhaps some waste management facility or something like that. It's box-like and with a huge chimney, and you just wonder - and that's that? Everyone says Cambridge is very nice, but the only thing I see is this? (I was later told that this ugly building is a hospital.)
Then you come to a train station (which is just usual train station), and you have to walk, like, 20 min from the train station to the city centre. This walk is not really the nicest in the world - the street is just an ugly big street with a lot of traffic, and the buildings are not particularly interesting or beautiful. And during the whole walk, you just wonder: and that's that?
And then you arrive to the city centre, and you see all the beautiful stuff! There are the white-stone neo-gothic buildings, with the gardens and the arches, and all the things from postcards. It looks like bright Hogwarts. :-)
The downside is that all these nice buildings have a very clear message on their door: keep off, college members only.
Five new English expressions!
- pinky promise: an unbreakable promise sealed with interlocking your pinkies (little fingers)
- handle with kid gloves: handle with too much care (kid gloves - gloves made of the finest leather which comes from an offspring of an animal (e.g. calf))
- the last straw: the last one little think which makes it all unbearable (full story goes that there is a camel, and you load stuff on his back, and then you add the one last straw and the poor animal's back breaks)
- a square peg in a round hole: something that does not fit (just imagine how well a square peg fits in a round hole)
- no-brainer: something that is so easy (obvious) you don't have to think about it
Saturday, 9 January 2016
Have you ever received a cheque? Well, until I came here, I have never imagined that I would receive something like this, but here in the UK, funny things happen all the time, and I have got one the other day!
It was from Barclays, the bank that made me so much angry with their attitude when I wanted to set an account with them. I filed a complaint, and after maybe three months, I got an apologetic letter telling me how sorry they were that I have been treated badly, and how sorry they were for the delays in dealing with my complaint. They sent me compensation... which took a form of an enclosed cheque. Saying that I was surprised would be a huge underestimation of my feelings.
Anyway. Cheques are here to be turned into money asap (everyone who's ever watched a gangster film knows this), so I wanted to do that this weekend. The bad thing is that it was my first cheque ever, and I had no idea how to do it. (Obviously, compared to the UK, the Czech Republic is a modern, progressive country, which just does not engage in archaic activities like exchanging cheques. We rather pay contactless.)
So I went to Barclays, with the intent to ask there. Because that is the bank which issued it, and I expected them to be able to tell me. There was an old lady behind the counter, who misunderstood me completely, and insisted that I couldn't possibly set an account in their bank because I had no proof of address. (I have heard this stuff before!)
I misunderstood as well, and thought it was obligatory to have a proof of address just to get my money. So I started thinking - first, what is this country where you obviously cannot do nothing without six difficult-to-get papers, and second, what is this bank which knows by now that I have no proof of address (I've mentioned this in my complaint) and still sends me cheque which cannot be cashed without it?
Luckily I asked again, and then the situation clarified. I could have my money without proof of address, but not in cash, it must be paid into a bank account. (Well, what is the point of cheques, I ask myself. Why not just send the money into a bank account, without processing a funny coloured piece of paper?)
However, I was sent to my bank instead of the bank which issued the cheque, so that my bank can put my money into my account. Cool. Fortunately HSBC has a branch just across the street, and so I went there. An assistant told me what to do.
First, you have to fill in a white paper slip, where you write your name, account number, and the total amount of money for all the cheques you are submitting. Then, you input this paper and all cheques you want to cash (= 1 in my case) into a machine. The machine asks you to either insert your debit card, or to input your name and account number. (Why did I have to fill in the white slip when I have to input the same info again?) Then the machine issues you a bill, which looks like a normal Tesco bill but there is a tiny (illegible) photocopy of your cheque and the white slip on it. And that's it, finished. Your money will arrive in approx. 4 days.
Wait, what! In four days?! Like, seriously?
It was from Barclays, the bank that made me so much angry with their attitude when I wanted to set an account with them. I filed a complaint, and after maybe three months, I got an apologetic letter telling me how sorry they were that I have been treated badly, and how sorry they were for the delays in dealing with my complaint. They sent me compensation... which took a form of an enclosed cheque. Saying that I was surprised would be a huge underestimation of my feelings.
Anyway. Cheques are here to be turned into money asap (everyone who's ever watched a gangster film knows this), so I wanted to do that this weekend. The bad thing is that it was my first cheque ever, and I had no idea how to do it. (Obviously, compared to the UK, the Czech Republic is a modern, progressive country, which just does not engage in archaic activities like exchanging cheques. We rather pay contactless.)
So I went to Barclays, with the intent to ask there. Because that is the bank which issued it, and I expected them to be able to tell me. There was an old lady behind the counter, who misunderstood me completely, and insisted that I couldn't possibly set an account in their bank because I had no proof of address. (I have heard this stuff before!)
I misunderstood as well, and thought it was obligatory to have a proof of address just to get my money. So I started thinking - first, what is this country where you obviously cannot do nothing without six difficult-to-get papers, and second, what is this bank which knows by now that I have no proof of address (I've mentioned this in my complaint) and still sends me cheque which cannot be cashed without it?
Luckily I asked again, and then the situation clarified. I could have my money without proof of address, but not in cash, it must be paid into a bank account. (Well, what is the point of cheques, I ask myself. Why not just send the money into a bank account, without processing a funny coloured piece of paper?)
However, I was sent to my bank instead of the bank which issued the cheque, so that my bank can put my money into my account. Cool. Fortunately HSBC has a branch just across the street, and so I went there. An assistant told me what to do.
First, you have to fill in a white paper slip, where you write your name, account number, and the total amount of money for all the cheques you are submitting. Then, you input this paper and all cheques you want to cash (= 1 in my case) into a machine. The machine asks you to either insert your debit card, or to input your name and account number. (Why did I have to fill in the white slip when I have to input the same info again?) Then the machine issues you a bill, which looks like a normal Tesco bill but there is a tiny (illegible) photocopy of your cheque and the white slip on it. And that's it, finished. Your money will arrive in approx. 4 days.
Wait, what! In four days?! Like, seriously?
Thursday, 7 January 2016
Pfff, buses!
Few days/weeks ago, I criticized the trams here, and while I still insist that the trams are far from optimal, they are probably still much (much much) better than the buses. As mentioned already in some of the previous posts, the trams do not really cover all Greater Manchester (i.e. Manchester, Salford, and all the suburbs). There are many places where there are no trams, and no trains, and just nothing more than the buses. Therefore, there are many people (yours truly included) who just have no other option than bus - or car, if you happen to have one (or bike, if you areDutch crazy enough to ride a bike in this weather & traffic).
Anyway. Yesterday, I have set a new record. I waited for the f. bus for 45 (yes, forty five) minutes. It was cold, and when I came to the bus stop, there were already many people, which is always a sign that there was no bus for some time. However, there was no bus nowhere to be seen. As I would have to walk few miles (in office shoes!), I decided to wait; it seemed that the bus would come every second now. However, only new people arrived, no bus. Not even different lines - nothing.
After some 20 minutes, some buses started to arrive, and guess what - none of them was my bus. So I waited and waited. I was freezing, tired, and more and more angry. And when the bus finally arrived, it was a small bus only - not a doubledecker, and not this long bus which can bend. Just a small, short bus. Consequence - people waiting on my station could go in. People on the next stations could not. The driver kept repeating to them, 'only one please'. I can only guess how so very angry they had to be after 45 min of waiting...
Anyway, I did not really expect the way home to be easy. After all, if the buses are not coming, they are obviously stuck somewhere, and this somewhere must be a traffic jam, and if this traffic jam is not really in the city centre, then it has to be somewhere else, for example on my way home - and oh yes, it was there. Magnificent again, superb, and occupying even places which it never occupied before!
So it took me another 45 min to arrive to my station.
I left the bus, and as I was walking home, I said many, many Czech swear words. Really many of them.
Few days/weeks ago, I criticized the trams here, and while I still insist that the trams are far from optimal, they are probably still much (much much) better than the buses. As mentioned already in some of the previous posts, the trams do not really cover all Greater Manchester (i.e. Manchester, Salford, and all the suburbs). There are many places where there are no trams, and no trains, and just nothing more than the buses. Therefore, there are many people (yours truly included) who just have no other option than bus - or car, if you happen to have one (or bike, if you are
Anyway. Yesterday, I have set a new record. I waited for the f. bus for 45 (yes, forty five) minutes. It was cold, and when I came to the bus stop, there were already many people, which is always a sign that there was no bus for some time. However, there was no bus nowhere to be seen. As I would have to walk few miles (in office shoes!), I decided to wait; it seemed that the bus would come every second now. However, only new people arrived, no bus. Not even different lines - nothing.
After some 20 minutes, some buses started to arrive, and guess what - none of them was my bus. So I waited and waited. I was freezing, tired, and more and more angry. And when the bus finally arrived, it was a small bus only - not a doubledecker, and not this long bus which can bend. Just a small, short bus. Consequence - people waiting on my station could go in. People on the next stations could not. The driver kept repeating to them, 'only one please'. I can only guess how so very angry they had to be after 45 min of waiting...
Anyway, I did not really expect the way home to be easy. After all, if the buses are not coming, they are obviously stuck somewhere, and this somewhere must be a traffic jam, and if this traffic jam is not really in the city centre, then it has to be somewhere else, for example on my way home - and oh yes, it was there. Magnificent again, superb, and occupying even places which it never occupied before!
So it took me another 45 min to arrive to my station.
I left the bus, and as I was walking home, I said many, many Czech swear words. Really many of them.
Tuesday, 5 January 2016
My husband had to go to Edinburgh on Monday. He got a train ticket, which was for a specific train at 7.45 am from Manchester Piccadilly.
He is a cautious man, and so on Sunday evening he wanted to check whether the train would really go as scheduled, especially in the light of all the fun we've had already with the railways here. He tried to find a website which would inform about the train departures, but was not very successful; all the websites he's found seemed to only display part of the information. And none of them had the 7.45 Edinburgh train.
That was suspicious of course, but we did not panic. There may be some info missing somewhere, or who knows what. That would be no surprise here. However, there was the little doubt inside his head already.
On Monday morning, it was finally confirmed: there is no 7.45 Edinburgh train. Instead, there is another train which goes to York, and there you have to change and go by another train. Which arrives approx. 1 hr later than the original (nonexistent) train.
Well, at first, I thought, this cannot be possibly serious. How come that the railway people sell tickets for trains they know wouldn't go? Seriously? The ticket was only purchased few days before the travel, and they had to know already.
Well, I am just adding this to the list of the UK funny railway stuff.
And now for something completely different. I think I've mentioned already that English people come to work dressed casually, and they only change into dress-code-compliant stuff once in the office. Well, you'd expect them to do such thing somewhere in private, right?
Ha ha! No. Today, I have seen one guy walking the corridor and trying to put a belt into its place. O_o Imagine how ridiculous it looks, a guy in suit and everything, trying to wrestle his belt and put it in the tiny loops provided on the trousers, while walking an office corridor during an ordinary morning...
He is a cautious man, and so on Sunday evening he wanted to check whether the train would really go as scheduled, especially in the light of all the fun we've had already with the railways here. He tried to find a website which would inform about the train departures, but was not very successful; all the websites he's found seemed to only display part of the information. And none of them had the 7.45 Edinburgh train.
That was suspicious of course, but we did not panic. There may be some info missing somewhere, or who knows what. That would be no surprise here. However, there was the little doubt inside his head already.
On Monday morning, it was finally confirmed: there is no 7.45 Edinburgh train. Instead, there is another train which goes to York, and there you have to change and go by another train. Which arrives approx. 1 hr later than the original (nonexistent) train.
Well, at first, I thought, this cannot be possibly serious. How come that the railway people sell tickets for trains they know wouldn't go? Seriously? The ticket was only purchased few days before the travel, and they had to know already.
Well, I am just adding this to the list of the UK funny railway stuff.
And now for something completely different. I think I've mentioned already that English people come to work dressed casually, and they only change into dress-code-compliant stuff once in the office. Well, you'd expect them to do such thing somewhere in private, right?
Ha ha! No. Today, I have seen one guy walking the corridor and trying to put a belt into its place. O_o Imagine how ridiculous it looks, a guy in suit and everything, trying to wrestle his belt and put it in the tiny loops provided on the trousers, while walking an office corridor during an ordinary morning...
Friday, 1 January 2016
Happy new year to everyone!
The New Year's celebrations seem to be much calmer here (in our middle-class neighbourhood) than it used to be in the Czech Republic (in the middle-class neighbourhood we used to live previously). Here, around midnight, many people fired some fireworks, and made a lot of noise, but at 12.30 am, everything was dead calm, and people were probably safe in their beds. In Prague, the amateur firework show usually lasted until 3 am!
(Maybe it has to do with the fact that the bus transport was once again very funny, and it was very difficult to get anywhere, and back. Therefore, people maybe did not drink that much at home, and there were not many really drunken people. In the Czech Republic, people do not limit their drinking to pubs, they are perfectly capable of partying hard at home, and therefore there is much more noise in the streets at 2 in the morning.)
We wanted to go for a long walk here in one of the parks. Ha ha! People often say, we do things differently here in Manchester, and it obviously also applies to parks and public places.
First thing is that there are not exactly many parks in our place. There is one very small, and one approx. 1 km from our house. Today, we checked Google Maps and found another park approx. 1 km from here. So we've decided to check it out.
In our cell phones, we use maps from Here (not Google Maps). However, Here just has no idea that there is a park, and lead us to a re-cultivated landfill instead. Of course the landfill a) is ugly, b) has an incredibly ugly surrounding, with discarded fridges and tires and things like that, c) cannot be entered.
Instead of a nice walk in a park, we've spent 1 hr trying to find the park, enter the park, and avoid the landfill. The road was surrounded by garbage, and there has obviously been some flooding in past few days / weeks, so there was also a lot of stinking mud. Nice, Here, thank you very much!
When we've finally discovered an entrance into the park, we've found that there are fences everywhere (because of the neighbouring landfill), and that the park itself is also full of unwanted stuff. We have seen for example:
- old shopping carts (one of them thrown into a small pond, it looked almost like a modern art project),
- decomposed motor scooter (the metal skeleton covered in rust lying between trees, with no tires and no other components than just the metal stuff - very post-apocalyptic),
- several burnt dustbins (some of them obviously used to be the blue paper-recycling bins),
- a little memorial made of burnt cans,
- meat, potatoes, oranges and grapes (all fresh, or 'fresh'), placed on a former campfire place together with the burnt remnants of some wood,
- something that looked like drugstore waste: pile of shampoos, single use shavers, and things like that, all arranged under one bench.
I am not even mentioning an endless stream of beer bottles, cider bottles, beer cans, cider cans, and other alcoholic beverages containers. All of them empty, of course.
The New Year's celebrations seem to be much calmer here (in our middle-class neighbourhood) than it used to be in the Czech Republic (in the middle-class neighbourhood we used to live previously). Here, around midnight, many people fired some fireworks, and made a lot of noise, but at 12.30 am, everything was dead calm, and people were probably safe in their beds. In Prague, the amateur firework show usually lasted until 3 am!
(Maybe it has to do with the fact that the bus transport was once again very funny, and it was very difficult to get anywhere, and back. Therefore, people maybe did not drink that much at home, and there were not many really drunken people. In the Czech Republic, people do not limit their drinking to pubs, they are perfectly capable of partying hard at home, and therefore there is much more noise in the streets at 2 in the morning.)
We wanted to go for a long walk here in one of the parks. Ha ha! People often say, we do things differently here in Manchester, and it obviously also applies to parks and public places.
First thing is that there are not exactly many parks in our place. There is one very small, and one approx. 1 km from our house. Today, we checked Google Maps and found another park approx. 1 km from here. So we've decided to check it out.
In our cell phones, we use maps from Here (not Google Maps). However, Here just has no idea that there is a park, and lead us to a re-cultivated landfill instead. Of course the landfill a) is ugly, b) has an incredibly ugly surrounding, with discarded fridges and tires and things like that, c) cannot be entered.
Instead of a nice walk in a park, we've spent 1 hr trying to find the park, enter the park, and avoid the landfill. The road was surrounded by garbage, and there has obviously been some flooding in past few days / weeks, so there was also a lot of stinking mud. Nice, Here, thank you very much!
When we've finally discovered an entrance into the park, we've found that there are fences everywhere (because of the neighbouring landfill), and that the park itself is also full of unwanted stuff. We have seen for example:
- old shopping carts (one of them thrown into a small pond, it looked almost like a modern art project),
- decomposed motor scooter (the metal skeleton covered in rust lying between trees, with no tires and no other components than just the metal stuff - very post-apocalyptic),
- several burnt dustbins (some of them obviously used to be the blue paper-recycling bins),
- a little memorial made of burnt cans,
- meat, potatoes, oranges and grapes (all fresh, or 'fresh'), placed on a former campfire place together with the burnt remnants of some wood,
- something that looked like drugstore waste: pile of shampoos, single use shavers, and things like that, all arranged under one bench.
I am not even mentioning an endless stream of beer bottles, cider bottles, beer cans, cider cans, and other alcoholic beverages containers. All of them empty, of course.
Well, if this were our first similar experience, I would not draw any conclusion from this. But we have seen things like this before, with so much mess, so many broken things and garbage in some places! Including, of course. parks and gardens. I just wonder why a) people create such a mess, b) people tolerate it, c) city council tolerates it. And, speaking about the city council: where are all the high-viz clothes of the cleaning people?
I just don't get it.
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