The British can't walk*

*Thanks to my lovely mister writing on his blog about how Americans can't park, I feel that it is my duty as a loving and sarcastic Myshka to create a sequel of sorts...

Is every walkable space in London too narrow, or do people have a strange fascination with invading your personal space and shoving you aside as they walk?

As I walk to work in the morning, I notice two things:

1. People walk right into you as if they had no depth perception.

2. Yet they manage to be really polite as they look at you with ambivalent disgust for you to get out of their way.

It's quite the experience. On my lunch break today, I was at a department store that I've grown to adore, House of Fraser, and I swear, no matter how poshly everyone is dressed, women just run into you and don't say anything. I'm serious. It's like they wander around in this haze, moving like cold molasses, and either step in front of you as you're trying to look at something in the mirror, or their hand brushes an arse cheek. Sorry, but no matter how friendly of a person I am, I still like my personal space, and it's really unnerving if someone just walks around me or in front of me like I know them, and brushes up against me too many times.

Though in New York, it's quite the opposite, so that's not great either. People are wary and suspicious of you, even if you're just walking on the pavement. New Yorkers have a certin gait to their walk, the "don't mess with me I have stuff to do and if you get in my way I'll just maneuver around you and walk out into the street if I have to" walk. It's true, I was the same way: I always took the easiest route possible, and that was usually manageable in two ways: avoid the crowds and talking to people, and walk out on the side of the road with no foot traffic, that way I have a clear route in front of me (and I have no fear of New York taxis, so I always used to dodge and weave. Not a recommended tactic).

And this is how I've come to understand Babchya (not her real name, it's the word for Grandma in Ukrainian). Babchya is my kooky grandmother and I adore her. But I never used to understand her little Babchya-isms, and one of them was taking her hand and nudging people out of her way at a grocery store if she wanted to grab something. No "excuse me", just plainly shifting people out of her way. And if she's interested in someone's shopping trolley, she will unabashedly remove that item from the trolley and ask that person about it. Or stalk them to copy what they've bought. I'm sure I'll be that same crazy old lady someday.

The point of this post is to say that both cities have their advantages and disadvantages, but I think it's fairly reasonable to ask that some lady not rub up against my arse as if it were a cashmere sweater.

And no, it won't be on sale, either.