Sham Wow!

I've seen this ad a few times and it always brightens up my day. In fact, the last time I saw it was on Fawx Sawker Channel, when I was watching Pompey v Man U in the charity shield with my brothers -- I rushed to get my camera and record it, but it came out so badly I didn't post it -- so, imagine my happiness this morning when an invitation to buy a Sham Wow! landed in my inbox.... Being a sucker, I went to the Web site. Lo and behold, in this year 2008, you can of course download shitty adverts for overmarketed cleaning products on the wonderous world wide web.

I really think this might be the pinnacle of American advertising. And yet, the punchline for me is 'Made in Germany!'

I'm not really sure why that gets me every time, but it does. It's like the manufacturer was thinking, what country can we attribute this to that will really improve its sales? Oh yes, the Germans! Of course, known for making GRRRREAT sponges! And when the guy with the faux hawk just casually adds, "You know the Germans make good stuff..."? By then, I am practically rolling around with laughter. It's just too good. I mean, there are so so so many things I associate with Germany. It would never have occurred to me to believe that they could produce the most brilliant sponge-type product in the world -- and sell it to the Yanks. But of course, designing sponges is probably what those clever German engineers in the VW ads do in their lunch break.

The Expat Olympics

As an expat, you likely have adopted a country or two to root for when it comes to the Olympics and other world sporting events. And if you're a Brit expat, this is doubly true because Brits historically are not big winners (they are certainly unlikely to occupy the front page of newspapers under the headline 'winningest') and even most Brits in the U.K. will be rooting for a couple of other countries that take their fancy.

Typically, Brits back home will cheer for the underdog, as generally this is where we identify ourselves. This means generally cheering loudly for any country including Britain that is taking on Australia, China and, of course, the U.S. This Olympics, however, I found myself strangely put off by all the winning behaviour of the Brits. And instead, I found my emotional wreck of a self -- post departure of brothers -- crying with happiness with Shawn Johnson's parents when she won gold for the U.S. on the balance beam, and really sad when American 400m hopeful Sanya Richards lost her bid for gold -- and then ecstatic when she won gold with the 4x400m relay team.

I'm very happy that so many Brits did so well and I am excited that the Olympics will be in London in 2012. It can only be a good thing for the country: tourism, business blah blah blah. It's just all this winning stuff is hard to identify with. It seems utterly foreign to me. Before we know it, The Sun will be writing sports headlines using the word winningest, rather than bewailing our national talent for snatching defeat from the jaws of victory.

Oh, and then there was the handover to London at the closing ceremony. I have to echo Fish Without Bicycle and Billy Connolly's thoughts. Phallic buses and washed out (albeit resurrected) rockers don't quite persuade me of the U.K.'s ability to host a world-class event. I found myself embarrassed and cringing - but at least these were British emotions I feel wholly comfortable with.

Driving on the other side

With hindsight, it was probably one of the less intelligent ideas I've had. But after I'd finally managed to get my Learner's Permit on my fourth visit to the DMV (just don't ever try to get a driving license in a hurry over the summer...) and I'd sat through a painful and compulsary five-hour classroom session in which I learned how to overtake school buses (ie, don't. Even if they're on the other side of the road) through the use of matchbox cars, it seemed like it would be a miracle if I got to get into a left-wheel drive car before I'd need to transport my brothers, let alone become licensed to drive in one. So when the driving people rang and told me I'd be able to take my test the second week that my brothers were here, I took it as a sign it was meant to be and promptly booked a hire car to drive up to Montreal the same night as the test.

I then spent about a week panicking that the DMV powers-that-be might have heard my bitching about how ludicrous New York state's driving requirements are and dispatch their forces of evil to fail me. And when I got into the car on a lonely stretch of road in Staten Island that passed for a 'test center' and the tester didn't even say hello, but proceeded to pull at her split ends, I thought I might in fact be doomed. Throughout the long 10-minute test, she only spoke to tell me to do a broken u-turn, park, turn left, turn right and pull over because I'd passed, all while splitting the ends of her hair.

My brothers had braved the Greyhound bus to Montreal from New York on the Monday, so my plan was to meet them there on Wednesday night. It vaguely dawned on me that -- having never owned a car -- this would be the furthest distance I'd ever traveled on my own and the latest I'd ever driven at night. I think I only managed to get there by pushing these thoughts aside -- and with the help of a GPS system I rented with the car.

While it might have my nautical ancestors turning in their graves, there was nothing like the GPS woman's advice for reassuring me that I was on the right road and that I would get there ok. The one time I had to get off the I-87 to find petrol, she carefully guided me back onto the main road. In all, the trip was uneventful. I was too wired on adrenaline to feel sleepy, Canadian customs and immigration were subdued at 11pm (and at any time anyway they're tame compared with U.S. border patrol) and I was driving a rock of a white Jeep Patriot (which one of my Canadian cousins later correctly identified as a real-life Barbie's car*) that it was impossible to speed in.



It's been one of my dreams for a long time to drive around the U.S. I have to say, this wasn't exactly the drive that I had dreamed of - although the drive south to Boston, through beautiful Vermont and New Hampshire, in the daylight and with my brothers and good music for company did a lot to make up for the solitary monotony of the I-87 in the pitch dark.

---

* As an English girl, I actually grew up with Sindy. She was much nicer than the American Barbie, although Barbie did have an awesomely American jeep, I remember. But -- when I came to research this blog post (what, you didn't realise I meticulously research each post?) I discovered that Barbie now has a very green, European VW Beetle. I'm jealous.

Departures

My apartment's now empty, and I'm feeling rather empty myself, after packing my brothers off at the crack of dawn yesterday for their flight home. It's suddenly hit me that with no holiday left and limited cash reserves, it could be a while before I see my family again. Add to that learning recently that two good friends who moved abroad around the same time I did are now about to move back to London, and I'm finding it hard not to wallow in homesick self-pity.

Luckily, my lovely brothers brought over some good supplies of real English Cadbury's and Ploughman's pickle, so I can happily eat my misery away, while cheering myself up with photos and memories and pulling together some stories from the visit to tell you. Starting, perhaps, with the crazy day in which I passed my NY state driving test in Staten Island in the afternoon, drove back to Manhattan and then kept going 380 miles to meet my brothers and cousins in Montreal...

Holiday...

In about two hours, a flight is going to land at JFK and my brothers will be on it. I am so excited. They're going to be here for two weeks. We're going to be doing a lot of stuff and traveling around a bit - I'll try and post from time to time but if it goes quiet, it's because I'm partying with the clan. I'm taking all five days of my holiday and I can't wait!

I hope you're all having a good summer,

Love,

LB x