You can drink the water, but don't order the beef

On Friday night, John and I went to a restaurant for a nice meal that we didn't cook ourselves, and which didn't come in styrofoam. John ordered pan-seared rainbow trout, and I ordered an 8oz sirloin steak. I really would've loved a t-bone, but the sale of beef on the bone is banned in the UK because of BSE (better known as Mad Cow), so sirloin was going to be the poor substitute. We waited aaaaaaaaaaages for our meals, we played with our new mobile phones, we drank our drinks, and then the food! My steak had a big piece of gristle running through it, but I was willing to overlook that and eat around it (though it did raise suspicions that maybe this wasn't the best sirloin available). It was rare, and juicy, and...fishy tasting? I ate another bite, and it definitely tasted off. I made John try it, and he agreed that it didn't taste especially beefy. So I took a deep breath and I sent it back. I have never, ever sent an entire meal back at a restaurant, except when I've been served something I didn't order. The waitress tried to tell me that they often have 'this problem' when people order their meat rare, but I wasn't buying it. The steak tasted gnarly. Ten minutes later I had a replacement, accompanied again by limp and colourless green beans and shoestring french fries, and this one didn't taste quite so funny. Was it the quality of the beef, I wondered? The last beef I had before I left Canada was a steak from an organically raised cow that my parents bought half of, so maybe I had been spoiled, but beef isn't supposed to taste fishy. We left a £1 tip (not for the food, but because the waitress was quite rude about me sending the manky steak back), and it wasn't until we were at the other end of the mall that I realized what the problem had been.
There were no grill marks on my steak.
John ordered pan-seared trout.

They fried my steak next to the fish.

I realize it's not fair to have high expectations of a country which brings us black pudding and roast pigeon, but I think it's reasonable to expect a steak to be grilled, non? I'll just order the bangers and mash next time.

A few observations

1. When I am very, very tired and having difficulty understanding someone's accent, I tune them out so that it all sounds like Charlie Brown's teacher. "Den I was loike, sumfing wah wah waaaaah wah wah wah...."
2. I live in lilliput. I know i've been over this, but damn, it still shocks me!
3. Even if you are very, very, very careful to look in what you think is every potential direction before crossing a road, you'll probably miss a hazard. I have, for the record, been honked at by several (as in I stopped counting) cars, one tram, and two busses. Not bad for two and a half weeks.
4. Brits are all alcoholics. Binge drinking aside, when I pass a drink off at the 'bux, 90% of people pick it up, bob their heads, and say 'Cheers'. Then I noticed bus passengers doing it too...and at the supermarket (what I was missing?!), and on the street when I gave way to an old lady with a walker. Wtf?! Cheers is used interchangably with 'Thanks' here, but never in sarcasm and only when there has been a service of some kind rendered. I think.
5. The legend about Europeans being apologetic if they accuse you of being American and you are, in fact, Canadian? Totally, embarassingly, true. I'm working at the espresso bar, chatting and calling drinks, and I hear a mother and teenage daughter arrive at the register. "I TOLD you it was an American accent!" (other barista) "Oh, actually, she's from Canada." (woman now shouting across half the store) "I'm so SORRY dear, I guess it's just loud and difficult to hear properly, and I am VERY SORRY" (me, being uncomfortable) "Oh, it's ok, I can't tell as Welsh accent from an Irish one, so how can I expect you to tell mine from an American accent, eh?" (woman smirks).
6. Brits are adult enough to decide when and where to cross the road. Jaywalking doesn't exist here, because it is legal to cross the road at pretty much any time. However, pedestrians don't automatically have right-of-way. See #3.
7. There are more things that I want to put up here, but i can't remember them at the moment. Some day, some day.

And England so far...

I find myself walking around Sheffield feeling like I've landed in Lilliput. Nothing here comes in extra large anything - cars that would be considered mid-sized sedans in Canada are gas hogging monsters, while SUVs are regularly graffitied (and their owners made broke by the cost of fuel!). Streets are narrower, packaging is smaller (imagine having to look really, really hard to find a 500mL bottle of shampoo...that's considered an 'extra value' size instead of the standard!), housing and storage are smaller...even the refrigerators are smaller. Like, seriously way smaller. Like, we go to the grocery store every two to three days because right now we share a fridge with four other people and we only have that much space because two of them seem to eat only take-away and canned things. I'm starting to find some attitudes shifting already - like, it's nice not to be stuck with shitty shampoo for an entire half liter, and tiny economical cars mean that it's going to be much more feasible for us to drive one eventually. But I will certainly miss being able to buy 48 rolls of toilet paper in one package at the supermarket. There's nothing like having enough ass-wipe in stock to build a dam, or t-p an entire street at once.