Laurie's light travel travel tips

I've been back in the U.S. 10 months and it recently hit me: I am re-assimilating. I had never heard anyone speak of this concept. When I moved to Connecticut in 2001, Mom introduced me to the concept of assimilation in the guise of a printed sheet from some psychological thinktank. According to this, it takes a year to assimilate within a new culture, but some never manage to assimilate at all. Now that I am back in Connecticut, I realize that I was yanked away from London just months after I had assimilated. It wasn't so much about spellings and such - I wrote my dissertation (yah!) in British English! - but the smaller, subtle everyday things. Missing London this morning, I felt I should enumerate: 1. Americans are louder. I don't care what anyone says. It's true. I ride public transpotation, where it appears to be a national disease. I never once heard Londoners shriek on the tube. People quietly study their mobile phones or yes, books, or speak in civil tones wi...

I want to tell these two little stories before I forget. About a month ago, when I was coming back to London from the U.S., I had a smart, sociable cabbie (Black Cab). He told me about how the cyclists were making it a living nightmare for drivers in the city, and sure enough, as we maneuvered our way from Waterloo to Ealing, more than a handful of cyclists were in our lane. They were trying to ride as fast as cars, but it forced the cars behind them, i.e. us, to slow down a bit to avoid killing them. "Really annoying," I said. "I'm all for environmentalism, but it's not sensible for people on bikes to think they are in cars." Somehow, the conversation turned to other topics, like film and television, and the driver told me he had picked up Carrie Fisher "when she was in town a few weeks ago." "Shortly before she died? Wow. I know she was here to film Graham Norton." "She told me three cabs had already passed her by when I picked...

I'm back in the U.S. for Reading Week, a new term to me but a welcome one. I love studying at King's College London, but also love coming "home". I still have a U.S. apartment til the end of the year (lease), and though it pains me financially, it's an emotional balm. Transitioning to a new country and way of life is harder than it seems when we're sitting around doodling pictures of Big Ben and dreaming of handsome Colin Firth-like men whisking us away in their chariots (with the steering wheel on the wrong side.) As I reflect on my three weeks in London , I'm struck more by the stories of the people I've met than anything else. My friend Kelly, who passed in 2008, once told me: "All cities are alike." She was right. New York, Chicago and London share Starbucks, traffic, a cosmopolitan sneer and swagger, and competitive financial climates. Walk into any busy Whole Foods and you'll forget exactly where you are unless you've picked u...

"You live here now, don't you!" said the nice woman at Giraffe, my regular stop for coffee at Heathrow's Terminal 5. When I say "regular" I don't mean it in the way one would if she chose, say, a coffee house down the block. No, this is where I arrive and depart every day as I journey back to my lodge, one bus stop away. Not only have I not found a flat yet, but I haven't even had a bloody moment to set out searching. I started my course almost two weeks late at King's College London, arriving with a health matter that has been tedious to deal with ( thyroid ) while struggling without the love of my life (Wally, my cat), which makes dealing with all manner of stresses more difficult. "I like you guys!" I told the nice lady. "You're very pleasant." She smiled. And it's so true that they're pleasant, a balm at the end of the day when I'm worried that the nodule on my thyroid could be cancer, that my cat is fa...