"This is a Piccadilly Line Train for Cockfosters." I kid you not.

The London Underground (a.k.a. “The Tube”), the world’s oldest underground railroad, is celebrating its 150^th birthday, but most of it doesn't look a day over 140.

There are eleven lines traversing six “zones”: Bakerloo, Central, Circle, District, Hammersmith and City, Jubilee, Metropolitan, Northern, Piccadilly, Victoria, Waterloo and City all tied into the London Overground, DLR, Southwest and various other British Rail services. There are 270 stations – many of which have very giggly names. My favorite station names are:

Barking

Elephant and Castle

East Ham

Goodge Street

Tooting Bec

Tooting Broadway

Marlyebone (try saying this and not sounding at least a little bit like a pirate)

Shepard’s Bush

Cockfosters

It moves over one billion passengers per year, although only about half that number were actually on my train ride home today.

I ride on the Underground most every day. My daily commute starts with a fifteen minute walk to the Richmond Station – a little long in terms of time added to my daily commute, but also really pleasant thanks to how fantastic London is.

I cruise down the hill and then take a shortcut through Vineyard Passage which is bounded on one side by an old cemetery.

I find walking among dead bodies strangely calming. I prefer it to walking through the "High Street" which is congested with the living acting for all the world like the undead - lurching along unpredictably thanks to the constant texting. From the station I take the District line train from Richmond to Hammersmith and then switch for the Piccadilly line to Leister Square. This takes me from Zone Four where we live to Zone One where the action is. I then walk through Soho (two sex shops and a ton of music stores on the way in case I need strings or a vibrator) for five minutes to my office. That’s about one hour and ten minutes door-to-door. I usually do the exact reverse on the way home.

This is just one of many routes that I can choose for my work commute depending on whether I want a longer or shorter walk (I choose the slightly longer of two pretty close options), which trains I think will be more or less crowded and how much I feel like trying something different. Exploring a new route can mess you up if you are short on time. For example, it’s impossible to tell by looking at the map how easy transferring between lines may be; in some cases your next train is right across the platform, in others you may have to go all the way up to the street level or even exit the station to transfer. (Curse you Hammersmith!)

Overall, I love the London Underground. The only downside is that it can be really crowded and hot. This summer has been unseasonably warm in London and the carriages are not air conditioned. Everything you've read about European body odor is true. The British seem clean enough, but a flock of old Italian tourists will stink up a District Line train faster than you can say, “Ciao, puzzolente.” Oh, and it’s very expensive. One way from Zone Four to Zone One is about $8.50. I get a monthly pass for $260 that is unlimited rides on all trains and buses in Zones One through Four. (So much for saving a ton of money by not having a car.) The upside is that kids are free.

There are a lot of rules in the Underground, and as is the case with many cultures, many of them are unwritten. I’ve figured a few things out but some remain a mystery…

Queuing and crowd behavior:

 “An Englishman, even if he is alone, forms an orderly queue of one.” George Mikes

The British have a well-documented love of queuing, so lining up is kind of a big deal, except when it isn’t. Mostly, it’s common sense that people should behave civilly and in a spirit of fairness. Even in situations where formal queuing isn’t possible – like when fifty people are all trying to push through three turnstiles while exiting a station – most travelers are fair-minded and polite. Bargers and side-sidlers are glared at un-mercilessly. Once you are getting on a train, some of that politeness is shed. If the train is especially crowded, people trying to get on will cry out at the people already aboard, “Move in!” There is also a fair amount of passive-aggressive ankle kicking and so forth. A friend was telling me that her pregnant friend quit riding the Tube when she got close to her due date. People were constantly telling her to “move in” because, thanks to her large belly, it looked like there was some open space right in front of her. She couldn’t take the pressure.

Walking:

One continual point of confusion in London – not just in tube stations but on the sidewalk as well – is which side to walk on. In America, we generally follow the rules of the road and walk on the right side. In London, thanks to narrow sidewalks and too many people, getting down the street is like navigating a mosh pit where you can choose to either dodge around or engage in a sort of game of chicken. My approach varies based on mood. Maybe in parts of the U.K. where there are fewer tourists they all walk on the left, but it’s a free for all in Zones One through Four as far as I can tell. The exception to this confusing lack of walking protocol is when it is occasionally spelled out on the Underground.

The escalator rules are clearly posted, but routinely ignored by tourists who are then bashed-into by fast-moving locals. 

Some walkways have a stated directional mandate, but no system-wide standard exists.

I once saw a British biker-looking guy growl, “Walk on the left,” to a hapless tourist going the wrong way. Even the bikers here are rule-followers.

Sitting versus standing:

Seats are available on the trains. Sitting is a little better than standing on a crowded train but you still get kicked and jostled a fair amount and you have to look at people’s butts, which is a crap shoot – can be good or bad, depending.

There are seats especially for those “less able to stand”. (The ability-to-stand trials occur each Friday at 13:45 at Paddington Station. Applicants are rated on a "standability scale" of 1-100, where a score of 1 = dead.)  Jockeying for seats can be dicey on a crowded train. I’ve noticed that people sort of expect you to sit if you are closest to an empty seat, whether you feel like it or not. I’ve been asked a few times in a slightly irritated tone, “Are you going to sit there?” Every time I’ve tried to offer a jump-ball seat to another traveler they decline, usually stating that they are only going so far. I just let old people beat me to the seat rather than make a big show of offering it to them. I figure it makes them feel capable. I will, however, dive into a seat to beat out a teenager.

Talking and eye contact:

Don’t do it. Where do you think you are with that smiling and nodding at strangers? Chicago?

My favorite thing about the Underground is that it works. It isn't always pretty or particularly comfortable, but it is dependable and always manageable. Here is a list of reasons that I think make it a winner:

Lots of trains:

During the day, you rarely wait more than two or three minutes for a train. The stomach-dropping feeling of coming onto the platform to see your train pulling away that plagued me in other cities (yes, I’m looking at you BART) just isn't a factor here. Another train is coming; you can get on that one.

Lots of lines and options:

While confusing to the uninitiated, the fact that there are so many transfer points means that if one line is delayed, there is usually another way to get where you’re going. Also it means that if you want to explore a little, you can change things up easily.

Generally well-behaved travelers:

The British are very polite which slathers a lot of grease onto what could be a pretty dicey situation. Trains and platforms can be very crowded, but it usually remains civilized even if someone's face is buried in your armpit or visa versa. Also, there is not a lot of grumbling about things. People just deal; stiff upper lip and all that, I suppose. (The exception is when a train actually stops dead on the tracks. People will get their moan on when this occurs.)s

I also appreciate how quiet people are on the train. Even when it's extremely crowded, it can be uncannily silent.

I should say that the well-behaved traveler business goes right out the window after 7PM, when well-mannered travelers are replaced with foul-mouthed drunkards. They are entertaining in their own right, but a little awkward when traveling with Miller. We came out of a station one Friday night after having dinner in Zone One and Miller recounted the swears he heard: Four f-bombs, seven s-words, etc.

Good support for travelers:

Most stations have ticket agents and other staff close at hand who are actually knowledgeable and helpful if you can understand what they are saying. There are lots of maps to consult and generally good signage. Every train has a recorded message telling you what line you are on and where the train terminates, the next stop, and available transfer options there. These are read by a very upper-class sounding woman’s voice that I find pretty sexy.

Regular announcements.

This provides a sharp contrast to the ad-hoc announcements which are, as on every public transportation system in the world, completely unintelligible.

Out of service announcements.

So come to London and we can take the Tube somewhere. Mind the gap.

Does Size Matter?

*Note: Sorry for the lousy looking formatting and random font changes. Blogger is doing some stuff that I am not asking it to. But I guess you can still read it...

London is a big city. But in another sense it is very small:

No walking on many of the absurdly narrow sidewalks. Especially since they are the day drinking/smoking area, too.

Fun small cars that you never heard of like this Ford Frodo.

On some streets they've given up on cars altogether. Like.

Our house in Amherst was not large by American standards – particularly in usable living space: three smallish bedrooms, three bathrooms that, due to size and untenable fixtures, added up to one and two half baths, a living room/dining room that was comfortable, but not large. We did have a lot of semi-livable space - a weird breezeway that functioned as mud room/three-season hang out, a damp basement family room and a stuffy attic office - as well as tons of storage. When we purchased the house it was our intention to renovate and make those spaces more comfortable and roomy but when we started to look into it, we decided it was too much to spend on too little house. 

Despite its shortcomings I liked the modest size of our house. It was easy to care for, cozy, and it permitted me to indulge in a kind of snobbery of un-pretentiousness. I sometimes even fantasized about smaller spaces - small scale living that required clever solutions to the everyday activities of eating and sleeping. However, as much as I may like the idea of a tiny house, I also like a degree of privacy and solitude - hard to come by in a micro-domicile even with only one wife and one child. Moving into a flat in London posed the perfect challenge: to find a balance between my desire for a smaller space and at the same time the ability to isolate myself on occasion. Plus, there wasn’t much choice – the cost of living (very high) and the general scale of dwellings (hobbitty) in London made a much smaller place a practical necessity.

Without going into a lot of detail about the search (seventeen viewings in two days), I found one. Our new flat is two bedrooms, one bath, but the proportions are nice. It doesn't seem in any way cramped with the exception of the entryway which won't comfortably accommodate more than one person putting on shoes or gathering items for departure. There is sufficient storage space and enough “zones” to permit the three of us to stay out of each other’s way as necessary. And there is plenty of room to host a houseguest or four for a few nights at least. We have two air mattresses - deluxe!

That said there are some things to get used to...

A lot of people told us we would need to adjust to the U.K.’s smaller appliances. Truly, when viewing flats I was stunned at the number of offerings that had dorm-sized refrigerators, and in a few cases no freezer at all. (Insert British ice-cube joke here.) Kitchens were undersized on the whole. To me this raises a classic chicken/egg question: Do Londoners drink rather than eat because their kitchens are so small and poorly equipped, or are their kitchens small and poorly equipped because they drink instead of eat? I suspect the latter. We were lucky in that our kitchen, while not American-sized, is spacious and has adequate refrigeration. Our stove top (or hob as they call it) is small but suitable, as is the oven (cooker). Never mind that these appliances are riddled with indecipherable hieroglyphs:

Pretty sure there is picture of a rabbit and maybe a native American inside our freezer door.

I’m sure when I actually need to bake something I will be able to figure it out. We’ve muddled through roasting veggies just fine.

This leaves us with the laundry situation. Every single American that I have met here has called out the U.K. washer/dryer as problematic. Many flats that I saw did not have a clothes dryer at all. Washers tended to be tiny units located in the already tiny kitchen. Our flat has a washer/dryer "in one". Not a stackable combo that is common in U.S. apartments, but rather one unit that claims to magically wash and dry clothing in one contraption. I was hopeful that this machine would defy all naysayers, and prove to be what it promises - the synthesis of two space-consuming appliances into one compact and elegant solution. Not so. The dryer function is pretty pointless. You can only dry about half of the already small load and then your finished clothes are so wrinkled that they look like they’ve just been removed from the bottom of a full hamper.

However, I am growing to like or at least tolerate some aspects of “The Wrinkler” that at first blush appeared to be shortcomings.

• It is tiny.
  
  This seems like a limitation and I’m sure that for larger families it would be, but a smaller washer means that the chore of dealing with the finished product is less daunting. I was a procrastinator when it came to folding and putting away clean clothes, but I don’t mind it so much if the volume is less. The funny thing about this to me is that it would never have occurred to me to intentionally buy a smaller washer or dryer when I lived in the U.S. But really why did we need such a large one? Bigger is not always better.

• The length of the cycle is long. Again, initially this was a frustration. Why does it take 45 minutes to wash such a small amount of clothing? But I’ve noticed that our clothes are extremely clean and apparently the washer is very energy efficient, so there’s that. And it’s not like I’m going to be putting those clothes on any time very soon anyway, because…
• The clothes are wet. No functioning dryer means that, like most everyone else in London apparently, we hang our laundry on racks to dry. I wasn't wild about this idea, but I have to say that I've come around. The biggest downside is that our dried things are not “fluffy”. In fact they could even be called crunchy. This is also a product of the exceptionally hard water in London. I apologize in advance for the scratchy bath towels you will use if you come to stay with us. However, for most items drying on the rack is perfectly fine and I find that if you give things a little shake-out once or twice while they are drying it helps with the crunch factor. In fact, I now look back at all that mechanical clothes-drying I used to do in America and wonder if I was just being manipulated by “big dryer”. In time, your clothes will dry without any assistance. Don’t buy the hype! Racks, man, racks.