The Calm After the Christmas Storm

I didn’t quite understand why there was so much hype around Christmas in England. The lights are over the top, the decorations and celebrations start before Halloween (a very foreign idea to me), and there is a definite “buzz” in the air, as the season gets closer. On Christmas Day, Eastern Boy and I went in search of a Christmas evening service. His parents had sent him a Christmas card with a bread wafer to take part in communion on Christmas Day. So we set out around 5 p.m. with a couple different churches in mind to check out. We assumed that like Poland and the States churches here would be holding evening services. While I am sure somewhere in this huge city there must have been an evening service, there was not an open church to be found in the Aldgate East area. We walked to about five different churches; some of them didn’t even have morning services. What’s the point in celebrating Christmas if you don’t even know the real reason for the season?

The city was like a ghost town, I thought at one point maybe the rapture had taken place in the morning service and we’d missed the trip. Everything was closed, there were very few cars on the street and even fewer people. We decided to find our way back to the hotel and take a walk down Brick Lane. It was there we found an open Indian restaurant where we shared our Christmas meal: spicy chicken curry and rice. The meal was spicier than we had expected and Eastern Boy made the comment that the spices were making his “nose cry”. I laughed and agreed!

After dinner we wandered into a little pub that I thought seemed to come right out of a Sherlock Holmes novel. It was eerily quiet and there were two people sleeping in chairs by a small gas fire. Nobody stayed long and nobody seemed to be talking to each other. Eastern Boy and I drank our pints and left, but not until after he had snapped a few pictures of the interesting scene.

Now the hotel was a pleasant change from my little flat. The bed was fabulous, the pillows were feathers, there was “tele”, and most importantly, the room had heating, which could be adjusted to my perfect temperature. It was quite a treat! I must say, I feel a little indulged now. When I walked back into my freezing cold flat I couldn’t help but wonder how I had convinced myself that it “wasn’t so bad” not having a proper heating system and that I “liked” the fresh air that consistently blows through the old draftee windows. It took me a little over two hours to warm my little living room. This is the only room where the heat works so I shut the door and just don’t leave. No wonder the landlord travels south for the winter!

Excited to see life back on the street this morning I woke up early to go return some things I had bought in Wimbledon, get some groceries and pay rent at the bank. However, I guess shouldn’t have been surprised when I stepped out and saw my little street closed. The trains were running a limited service and I was lucky enough to get a train right away. The grocery store was completely dead compared to the mad house it had been only days before, only a few shops in the main mall were even open and the banks are closed almost all week (they will be open the 29th before closing again until the January 4th – I’m in the wrong profession).

I was shocked that a whole city can shut down for almost two weeks and then it hit me! That’s why the British love this time of year, good food, family, presents and no work! Maybe Americans should take a step back and actually rest and enjoy this time of year. Maybe we have it all wrong? Or maybe I am missing the conveniences that I have grown so accustom too? Maybe I am ready for life to get back to normal? Personally, I think the latter is true.

Mixin' It Up

Well, I really have tried to be a little more “adventurous” since my Creature of Habit post. And I don’t mean the stupid kind adventurous where I roam strange parts of the city at night. While I’m sure good stories would come from such ridiculous behavior, I’d rather live to tell the tale. So I’m starting out small. Step one – cooking dinner. Now, this might seem like quite a small step for life in the “comfort zone,” but for me this is a rather large step. Grocery stores here (and frankly anywhere abroad) intimidate me. When I was in Greece a trip to the grocery store would leave me frustrated, homesick and possibly even in tears. While I do have a small advantage given that the labels are in English here, many times the packaging and name brands are so different that I am left wondering; “Do I really need this item?”

Now sometimes I do get lucky and find something I wasn’t expecting. For example, one morning in the search for eggs I stumbled across real bacon. Not that British ham they call bacon, but the nice crisp fatty stuff. Of course, southern biscuits were not an opinion (I’ll have to be brave and try homemade for those) but after about 30 minutes of walking up and down the refrigerator aisle I still hadn’t found eggs. Frustrated and not willing to concede to failure I finally asked an attendant. He graciously led me three aisles over to the area with cereal where he pointed to the carton of eggs and walked away. Of course! Why didn’t I think to look next to the cereal?

I’ve become a little too comfortable with running down the street to grab a £2 burger, chicken or pizza meal. Besides the fact that I feel like I’m about to be on a first name basis with several of the cooks, last night I dreamed that I stepped on the scale and it read 60 lbs more than when I left the States. I woke up in a panic and made a healthy (ok, well it’s a start in the right direction) grocery list from some hit Rachel Ray meals and headed off to Wimbledon to navigate my way around the “mega” store. More options equal a higher success rate, right? Plus, my runny nose last week had left me completely out of toilet paper and the Wimbledon store is the only place to get twelve rolls for £1.50. Quality is not high on my priority list these days.

Walking into the store I felt a little like I was walking into a jungle. There were holiday-crazed people everywhere. I actually have never seen people literally pushing to get to the brussels sprouts (eww). In order to use a cart here you have to pay £1 pound deposit and then when you put the cart back you get your £1 back. I haven’t figured out where to put the cart back yet, so I usually just use a free basket. This does limit the amount of things I can buy, which I guess isn’t a bad thing, considering I do have to carry them home. I decided to be patient and stick to the list. I collected a bag of small potatoes, an onion, green and red pepper, a tomato (yes, can you believe it? I really am mixing it up). I found my way to the chicken, which was on sale for £3!! What a bargain! I chose not to look at the date and just vowed to eat it very quickly. I stumbled around and found a few more items and made my way to the cashier. I have learned to always bring my own bags because many stores actually charge anywhere from five to 20 pence for a bag (besides, using my own market bags is more environmentally friendly). After waiting in a long line it was finally my turn. I always struggle to prepare my bags, load my bags (baggers are not a provided luxury here) and pay all at the same time. However, for the first time ever, I managed quite well. I had opened my bags before it was even my turn so plopping them down on the counter was quick and simple, my debit card was waiting in my pocket and while the cashier swiped my first items I stuck my card in the slot and swiftly put my items into my bags. The whole transaction took about three minutes, but the line behind me was growing antsier and I was just ready to get home!

Since my flat is actually someone else’s home, an elderly bachelor at that, the dishes, pots and pans supplied for cooking are very limited. However, I was able to make do with what was provided. My first official homemade dinner in England was a Thai Chicken wrap. With no measuring cups the measurements were guessamounts. It might not have been the best meal I’ve ever made (and definitely not the best I’ve ever eaten) but it was edible and enjoyed. Since then I have been brave enough to make roasted baby potatoes, chicken tortillini, Parmesean Chicken with diced tomatoes on top (I know, still a shocker!) and a couple of baked potatoes. Maybe tonight I’ll brave lemon pepper chicken.

The goal: To not eat out until after Christmas and maybe even until next year!

Five Sleeps Until Christmas

London is covered with a white blanket of the second snow of the season! I’ve never liked the cold and I believe the last time I got really excited about snow I was in the 5th grade and a winter storm had covered Kentucky with over two feet of the white stuff. I remember playing for hours outside and never getting cold (or sick). Now, I’ve always loved snow days but once I could drive I much preferred the snow that cancelled school in the early mornings but had melted by the time I woke up. Then I could run around with my friends all day and not worry about the slick conditions. Here I do not have to worry about driving in the snow, ice or even rain. However, transport becomes even more unreliable than a normal day. Typically, my train is always a couple of minutes late; however, many days I count on those minutes. But add a little bit of snow and you might as well give up getting anywhere on time.

Yesterday I had agreed to work a couple of shifts for a local catering supply company. I arrived in the morning around 7 a.m. and around 10 a.m. it started to snow. It snowed and snowed and snowed. The morning shift was a set up shift for the evening event and was being held in a tent. The tent walls were still being put up so the work was basically outside (and cold), but looking out the edges of the tent I felt like I was in a snow globe that had just been turned upside down. It was gorgeous! The whole of London collected between 2 to 5 inches in about two hours and getting home was a booger!

In the early morning I had braved the bus system and actually found the correct bus going the correct direction to the location with little difficultly. I was rather proud of my small accomplishment. However, the task of getting home on an already unreliable bus in the snowy mess was certain to be an adventure I did not want to experience. I chose to take the Tube to Waterloo station and train from there. I ended up having to change tubes three times and ended up at Vauxhall station instead. I jumped on a train, which was a little late and moving a little slower due to the weather, and just watched the snow covered trees pass the window. Everything was white. I realized, I kind of like the snow. I want to take pictures of it. I even kind of want to play in it (although, I never will … brr!) and if I had no place to go I would definitely be singing “let it snow, let is snow, let is snow.” I guess if it’s going to be this cold (for this long) I might as well be able to look at something pretty.

Well the count down to Christmas has begun and as the Brit’s say “only five more sleeps” until the big day. My Christmas is going to be a little less traditional this year. I have rented a room in London at the hotel where Eastern Boy works. His room is already supplied by his employers since he will be working Christmas Eve and Christmas Night and transport is closed on Christmas. We have tickets to see the new Narnia movie on Christmas day and even found a 3D theatre in walking distances from the hotel. I am still not sure if it has hit me that I will be away from family and tradition this Christmas or if I am just choosing to not think about it. However, for now, I am dreaming of the possibility of having a white London Christmas.

Creature of Habit

Today started off to a bad start…

I am beginning to wrap up my semester (although I will be working through the break on several group projects due after the New Year, ugh!) and have multiple group presentations this week. The biggest presentation was this morning and worth 70% of my final grade; needless to say - a big deal. The group comprised of nine people and miraculously we all got along and worked well together. We all agreed to meet on Sunday afternoon and do a run though of the 45-minute presentation. I woke up Sunday morning feeling great. The sun was shinning and the weather was warmer (37 F is considered a warm day now). I cleaned the flat, washed the dishes, took a shower, gathered my things and was off to the meeting. I should have checked the train times because I had to wait on the platform for a good 20 minutes before a train to Kingston actually arrived. I hopped on the train and the carriage was hot and stuffy. A big difference from the cold air I had just sat in for 20 minutes. I started to feel my chest getting heavy and my nose started to run. Ehh, it’s nothing I told myself! As the meeting progressed, so did my symptoms and by the time I got home I was feeling quite grim. I took (what I am sure my mother would say) entirely too many cold meds and was in bed, asleep by 9:40 p.m. Well the meds worked because I slept like a Nyquil commercial suggests (minus the Nyquil – can’t get it here…) and woke up with a clear head and a very heavy chest. I think I skipped the “head cold” part and went straight to the “it’s in your chest” part. So, today got off to a bad start…

I must have sweat a lot in my sleep because I woke up late smelling icky. My bedroom still smells like a locker room (not quite sure how to fix that – Febreeze?). After a quick shower I realized there was no way I would be able to make my train and would have to take the late train. No biggie. Well, I couldn’t find my Oyster and then I realized, there was no money on it and the lines for the tickets were a mile long. I ran to the nearest Oyster shop and waited in a long line to top up. Then I ran, chest heaving in the freezing cold; the train pulled away from the station right as I reached the platform. Great! I wished I could pull an Indiana Jones move and ride the train from the outside, but didn’t think getting arrested (or killed) was really in the schedule for the day. Plus, jail would not be a good place to have a cold. I bet they wouldn’t even give me tissues!

Anyway, the next train wasn’t for another 20 minutes and it was already 8:26 a.m. at that point. Now the train to Kingston makes about six stops before reaching my designation and takes about 25 minutes. From there I typically walked to school to save the £1.50 (I can get a whole chicken dinner at the dodgy kebab stand for that) bus ride. The walk takes about 15 minutes depending on the speed. Given the bowling ball I’m carrying on my chest I was calculating it would take much longer! At this point my presentation would be over by the time I arrived. I started to panic and jumped on the next train to Surbiton instead. Granted, I’ve never been to Surbiton and I don’t know how to get from Surbiton to Kingston, but we’ve talked about it in class and I know people who live there. I thought it must be close. The train made one stop at Wimbledon and then reached Surbiton station. I hopped out of the station and saw Bus 71 at a stop across the street. This is the bus I would take from Kingston Station, if I weren’t cheap. I thought, “Self, would you rather walk aimlessly up the streets of Surbiton or suck it up and pay the £1.50?” I paid the £1.50. Admittedly, I got on the bus going the wrong direction first but quickly realized and dashed across the street just in time to catch the correct bus. I did almost hit a car in the process – no, the car did not almost hit me… I almost hit a parked car. The nerve of it getting in my way! Not four stops later the bus driver announced my stop (about three blocks down the street) and as I rushed into the school I realized it was only 8:55 a.m. I was five minutes early. I actually arrived to the school sooner than if I had caught the 8:26 a.m. train to Kingston station. God is good!

Oh and it turns out the professor decided to not start class until 10 a.m. today to give us a chance to review and prepare – figures!

So what did I learn? Surbiton station is shorter train ride and a shorter walk to school. So what did I do when I was leaving at the end of the day? I walked the 25 minutes (with the bowling ball heaving in my lungs) to Kingston Station and took the longer train to the same station where the Surbiton train would have brought me. I really debated which station to leave from and as I was regretting the long walk through town all I could think was I am a creature of habit. I took the route most familiar, even though it might not have been the fastest option. (Granted I don’t know how often trains leave from Surbiton to Earlsfield and how reliable, but it’s a safe bet that they are more frequent or the same as Kingston).

I find that I am more a creature of habit here than I ever thought of myself as being when at home. I always take the same set of escalators in the mall, or go to the same kebab shop, or order my pizza the same way, ride when I could walk, take a train instead of a bus (still trying to figure out the whole bus thing), go with friends when I could find it by myself, pay more for the American brand cereals instead of the British brand (when it’s the same thing). The list could go on forever.

I guess I need to ask myself; do I like it this way? Or am I ready to mix it up?

Through These Walls...

Though I’ve had many troubles with the flat where I reside I’ve begun to become attached to it; and, for the time being, everything is fixed! I should knock on wood. It has its quirks and things still break often, mainly because of poor installation and lack of proper care. For example, several nights ago I was happily washing my dishes when a heard a loud “Boom”! Not quite sure where the noise came from I continued to wash. It was then I heard water running and something wet touch my feet. When I opened the cabinet below I discovered the walls of the cabinet had pulled apart causing the shelf that wrapped around the sink pipe to fall and bring the pipes with it. Pots went flying, water was everywhere, and I could not manage to get the shelf away from the pipe. In panicked frustration I called Kris to come save the day. He was able to untangle the pipes, remove the shelf, and reattach the pipe so that it worked with no leaks while I used three towels to wipe up the pond which had overtaken my kitchen. Just another day in the life of my complicated existence here in London!

I often hear noises in the flat that are from outside but sound so close, for a while I was convinced the place was haunted. So when the shelf came tumbling down my first thought was that it was outside. The walls of my flat are quite thin and many times when I am lying in bed I can hear people outside on the street, far from my bedroom, laughing and talking below. Many times I’ve grabbed the scissors I keep in my bedside drawer (I know, strange, but I always need to cut out something when I’m warm in my bed) and tiptoed into the other room expecting to see these party animals having a cup of tea and enjoying my living room.

However, it’s not the people outside that I enjoy the most through my walls, but the neighbors above me. They are a young Indian family with two small children. The oldest daughter is probably around three and the baby is just starting to walk. I don’t know this because I’ve met them, although I have tried, but because of what I hear through the walls. They are a family of four gathered into a one-bedroom apartment. When in the living room I can hear the children laughing, crying, playing and running. The children also sleep in the living room and the parents use the bedroom. I know this because the dad is quite the snorer. Most nights I try to fall asleep before he does. However, on the rare occasion I am awake longer I wonder how any of them sleep in the same flat! The other night I was drifting off to sleep to the sound of his snoring slightly seeping through the floorboards when I heard a loud “Blaafffff.” I sat straight up wondering if that was really what I thought it was! I heard his wife start to cough a little and then I heard him get up and open a window. Yes, he had passed gas loud enough to not only awaken me from my light sleep, but to also awaken himself and his wife. As I lay in bed I couldn’t help but giggle, and hoped that they never hear the same from me.

Oh the joys of living in close quarters – welcome to the city!

It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas

Well, one thing that cannot be denied – London does Christmas big. Over the past couple of weeks I have been trying to take advantage of every “holiday-ish” thing that is taking place in London. Each major street has its own ceremonial turning on of the lights celebration. Since lights have been up on the streets since before Halloween many of these celebrations had taken place before I even started to realize the holidays had “begun.” However, on a Thursday night about two weeks ago we were able to catch the last ceremony on Bond Street as our Thursday night girls’ night. The stores stayed open late (stores here usually close between 6 – 7, not like at home where they are open until 9!) and offered hot chocolate, mulled wine, free samples of certain hair supplies, perfumes, and more. The lights were suppose to come on promptly at 6 p.m., however, London seems to work on its own time so around 6:15 there was a round of fireworks and the lights were turned on. The evening was completed with fake snow being blown from the upper story windows, which turned straight to soap suds as soon as it mixed with the steady drizzle of the rain which was falling that night in London (a bit slippery but clean).

London does Christmas lights on steroids, but they are gorgeous! Whole buildings are covered with lights and big bows. On Saturday, Eastern Boy and I attempted some Christmas shopping on Oxford Street. The officials had closed the street to cars because of the enormous number of people shopping; there wasn’t enough room on the sidewalks. There were lines outside stores to get inside and lines inside stores to see an item. It was crazy. Needless to say, we didn’t get a lot of shopping done! However, it was great fun walking down the middle of Oxford Street listening to the groups of carollers, which had gathered to provide entertainment and set the Christmas spirit.

The night before the shopping trip I gathered a couple of friends together for ice skating in Hyde Park. The night was clear and cold, but strolling around on the ice under the stars it didn’t feel so unbearable. Eastern Boy had never ice skated at all and Anne and I had never ice skated outside, while Em was the pro from Canada who showed us all up with fancy footwork and backwards skating. A fun time was had by all. The skating rink was located in the middle of a Christmas Festival called “Winter Wonderland” and was complete with carnival rides, a Christmas market, festive food vendors and of course, ice skating!

Since Thanksgiving is an American tradition naturally it is not celebrated in England. However, I decided the holiday could not be overlooked. On Thursday, several American friends and I made reservations at a restaurant advertising an American Thanksgiving meal. Overall the dinner was quite good (with the exception of the mac and cheese which was a little too hard to eat); we enjoyed each others’ company the most. On Sunday, a friend from Greenville hosted a potluck Thanksgiving meal at her house. We cooked and ate with many of the women with whom I am beginning to become good friends. We ate and ate and ate until the major topic was focused on napping. The event was just the perfect medicine to heal the homesickness I had been feeling.

A Dinner to Remember

When Eastern Boy has a night off work we try to do something special and fun in London. Since school as been dominating so much of my time lately, it had been a while since we had gone on one of our “London Adventures.” On Monday night we had plans to meet for dinner after I finished at school. I was craving Chinese but the only Chinese food that I know about was a take away place and rather expensive. We decided to pop in to a little Korean place not far from where I live. The menu looked like just what I was craving and reasonably priced for London eat-in (sitting down to eat at a restaurant is always about 10% more than take away. The theory is they have to pay someone to take care of you and wash your dishes afterwards!) prices. We were greeted outside by a friendly Korean face who kindly explained the menu and invited us in. Inside we were met by a warm atmosphere, where we picked a nice candle lit table for two by the window.

The descriptions on Korean menus are rather vague so we picked the cheapest thing, a spicy beef pot dish and an extra side of rice, for me. We were deep in conversation about our days and enjoying the complimentary snacks (sweet and sour peanuts, spicy cabbage, zucchini and lightly mashed potatoes with corn) when we noticed the food arrive at the table next to us. It was being cooked by the server on a small skillet in the middle of the table and it smelled fabulous. Eastern Boy commented that he hoped that’s what we ordered! It wasn’t seconds later that our cups of SOUP arrived. I think the server could see the disappointment on our faces because he asked if we were happy with our choice. We graciously said “yes! It looks wonderful!” but he wasn’t satisfied. He asked if we had eaten Korean before and we answered we had not. He picked up our soup and said “You were so confident in your orders I thought you knew, this is not ok for your first time. We will take this off the bill and I will be back to help you order!” We were both a little shocked at what had just happened, but rather excited about the prospect of eating the thing at the table next to us! When he returned he helped us pick out an appetizer (Deep fried chicken with garlic and honey sauce) and a sizzling table B.B.Q (thinly sliced chicken fillet marinated in Cah-chi sauce and thinly sliced pork fillet marinated in chili sauce) and a glass each of white wine! We giggled with excitement over our second choice and waited in anticipation.

To accompany our dishes the server brought spring onions, cabbage, a ginger sauce, rice and lettuce leaves. He proceeded to sauté the chicken and pork strips on the small burner he had set up for us until they were completely cooked. He then showed us the Korean way to eat the food. He put one piece of lettuce on our small saucer plates, a little bit of rice, some spring onion, a piece of chicken or pork, topped off with a bit of ginger sauce. He then instructed us to eat like a lettuce wrap. It was so good! We continued to eat raving about how it was the best meal we had in London until our stomachs were beyond satisfied and there were just a few bites left. The server then proceeded to wrap about the last two bites for us to take home and enjoy later! This concept is unheard of in the UK (and I believe most of Europe). I have many times asked for a to-go box and have been met with a blank “Are you a stupid American?” stare; now I just carry my own plastic container or order very little when eating out!

I have found it is so many of the unexpected experiences that stand out as special to me. While enjoying our delicious meal Eastern Boy changed his mind about the kebab book and now thinks we should write about small “hole in the wall” secrets that turn out to be the best little surprises!

Norway for the Weekend

Last Friday I boarded a plane with a new friend, Em, for Oslo, Norway. She had found a Ryan Air (this is the cheapest European airline, but provides no thrills – no assigned seats, no snacks, no in-air entertainment – unless you consider the continuous push to buy items from all their sponsors – you get the idea) for £20 round trip several weeks earlier. The plane ride only took about two hours and arrived 20 minutes early. Ryan Air prides itself on being the most on time airline in Europe and celebrates each arrival with a trumpet recording and an Irish voice saying “This has been another on time flight on Ryan Air! Thank you for flying with us today.” Every time I hear this I giggle!

Most Ryan Air flights land at the farthest airport from the actual location, but Emily and I had done our research for the most cost effective way into the city and loaded a bus for the hour ride to Oslo. We met some American medical students studying in North England and followed them to our hostel. The hostel was different than most hostels I have stayed in. It was top rated on Hostelworld.com at 68%, but wasn’t nearly has bad as I had expected. At check in the receptionist informed us that they had been having a problem with bedbugs and to be sure to check our mattresses. Bravo! Contrary to what we were expecting the room was surprisingly pleasant and my mattress was free from bed bugs! There were four girls in the room who had arrived before us. They were living in London working as au pairs but originally from Spain and France and my first impression was that they weren't the most friendly of hostel roommates. Emily and I decided to drop our bags and go on a search for food. We had heard of an area that was known for “cheap” food and since Oslo was voted the most expensive city in the world we thought it would be best for us to find somewhere to eat in that section. After spending 100 KR (£10 pounds!) on average Chinese food, we headed back to the hostel.

The internet was only available in the lobby and while checking our e-mail the fire alarm began to ring. We were forced to stand outside jacketless in the freezing cold to wait for the firemen to arrive. We joked that the crazy girls in our room were probably the cause of the alarm. I suppose we should have knocked on wood because once we were allowed back into the building we discovered that the girls had decided to cook bacon on the burners in the room (most hostels do not put a kitchen in the rooms but provide a kitchen for everyone in the common areas) with out using any pots. The firemen told all of us that we would all be charged a 5000 KR (£500 pounds) fine for their stupidity if this happened again. The girls thought it was hilarious and one of the girls videoed the event and kept playing it over and over again. Thankfully there was no major damage to the room or our personal belongings. As if we hadn’t already had enough of these roommates, they all four kept us up most of the night our entire stay with their musical snores and gas-passing.

The next morning we woke up early to see the city, but were surprised to find we were the only people on the streets. We finally found an open 7/11 and asked where were all the people. The city doesn’t wake up until 10 a.m. on a Saturday. Still we were able to see a cathedral, a fortress, the Royal Palace, the Opera House, City Hall, the University of Oslo, the main city and much more. After a long day of walking we decided to go rest at the hostel and wait for our friend, Anne, to land and meet us for the last night in the city. We had plans to meet a Norwegian friend of hers for dinner; he had previously lived in Australia and worked with Anne. Once she arrived the friend took us to a lovely restaurant and treated us to the nicest meal (lamb shanks). This might have been the nicest meal I have ever had in Europe. The next morning he picked us up in his car and drove us around Oslo. We saw the ski jump where the World Ski Jump competition will be held soon and a Norway beach. We then had lunch at a nice little restaurant and headed to the airport.

Overall, Norway is a beautiful country that is incredibly cold this time of year and extremely expensive! It was a lovely weekend minus Beluga Bear and her posse snoring all night long! However, I think that might be my last trip for a while. I much prefer London and my own bed!

A Search for a Book...

School has taken over my life and given me no time to fully adjust to finding what I need in this huge city. The assignments are a lot of work and require a lot of research; however, I am still just learning where to find the answers to the questions I still don’t know to ask. After spending the last three days running around like a chicken with my head cut off looking for the answers to what I had originally thought would be a simple question and a simple assignment I finally made a break through! I discovered a textbook that outlines the acts and policies related to regeneration in the UK. However, I then needed a way to put my hands on it. I had already tried a couple of local libraries and the school library, but these books are high in demand! After a little bit of research I realized that my local library shares with many other libraries in London and the book can actually be reserved and delivered to my local library for my convenience. Only problem, I didn’t have time to wait a week for the book – I needed it today! So, after some pleading with the library to give me a library membership (yes, this is another area where many security measures are put into place!) and then pleading some more for her to tell me in which library I could find the book (she kept saying it was far away and I could just wait until it arrives. She didn’t know who she was talking to!) I headed off to the one library in the whole city that still had one book left! The library is located in Walthamstow and is about an hour and half trip from Earlsfield. I hopped onto a Southwest train to Vauxhall where I changed for the Victoria line underground. The ride actually took so long that on the way back I got most of the first section of my assignment done. Maybe I should study on the Tube more often! However, the experience in Walthamstow was one I think I might never forget. It wasn’t memorable in the sense that something so strange and bizarre happened that I might never be the same again, it was just a realization that I live such a different life than most would find ordinary.

Many of the areas around Walthamstow are areas that I’ve been studying in school in regard to the need for regeneration and have a reputation of not being the safest neighborhoods, so I was a little leery when stepping off of the Tube. The borough isn’t the most advanced or the most popular tourist destination, but there is something different about the people there. Everyone seemed happy and relaxed; each person I asked for help was so eager to give me directions. When I reached the High Street, I was distracted by the local market that ran down the middle of the street for what seemed like miles. Local farmers were selling their fresh produce for unreasonably low prices and were yelling out their inventory and prices to the people passing by. There was a mix of different languages and I realized most of the people around me were of middle Eastern descent. I noticed very few “white” people in the area and the few I saw I thought looked out of place. While the streets were dirty and the buildings run down, there was a strong sense of community in the area and my once leery feeling was starting to turn to warmth. When I reached the library I was very impressed with the selection and the lady at the information desk was much more friendly and helpful than the lady at my local library. She directed me straight to the book where I found another very helpful Urban and Regional Planning text and decided to check out both.

I was a member of the library in Greenville, but I never really took part in any of the programs that were offered. Honestly, I never noticed when I walked in any advertisements for library activities. However, in every library I have entered in the city there is some type of activity related to the people of the area. The Walthamstow library was dedicating the week to Islamic studies, my local library has a children’s hour everyday where mothers bring their kids from newborn to age three to sing songs and read books; it’s quite commercial really and many more things are going on at the libraries. I’ve decided to spend more time studying there. I get a lot done and the distractions are pleasant ones.

When I first moved to Columbia I used to drive around, explore and get lost. I always thought the best way to get to know a place is to get lost in it. Each day I push myself a little bit more out of my comfort zone and get a little more “lost” and learn a little more than I knew before. Maybe next week I can go to a different part of London…for a different book!

"When a man is tired of London, he is tired of life; for there is in London all that life can afford."

Well, I can’t agree that I can “afford” London, but I’m sure Samuel Johnson had something different in mind when he spoke those words. He did have one thing right; there is always something wonderful to do in London! While many of my other friends spend their weekends working their way around Western Europe I am enjoying most of my days right here within the city limits. Thankfully I have only suffered the “London Weather” for a handful of days. While we have had our cold spells since I’ve arrived I have been more than blessed with enough sunny “warm” (for Great Britain) days to keep the crankiness at bay.

My boyfriend, "Eastern Boy", moved to London not long after I arrived and was able to find work as a hotel night receptionist closer to north London. While the night work hasn’t been the easiest adjustment for him, the job does have its perks! On Wednesday night two guests offered him two tickets for the Original Bus Tour they had purchased but were unable to use. The tickets, valued at £50, included a free boat tour of the River Thames. We had talked about wanting to do one of these tours but shivered at the cost. Neither one of us could justify spending that much money to ride on the top of an open bus in the freezing cold, but free put a whole new perspective on the situation and we decided to take advantage of the tickets. We didn’t want their money to go to waste either and surprisingly the weather was perfect, a little overcast but “London” warm. It wasn’t until two hours into the ride that our fingers began to turn blue and we moved downstairs on the bus for cover. The tour was fantastic. We went all over London from Piccadilly Square to the Haymarket (did you know in the 1800s more than 15,000 tons of horse dung was removed from London’s streets…everyday) to Green Park (named Green Park because Queen Catherine banded flowers from the garden after seeing her husband pick a flower for one of his mistresses. The area of Queens in New York is named after this very event. New York is named after the King’s brother, York) to the Hard Rock Café London (which is the first Hard Rock Café and displays original memorabilia from the Beetles and other famous British rock and roll bands) to Big Ben, Buckingham Palace, Westminster Abbey, Parliament, London Bridge (which has been replaced over the years by many different bridges; at one point the bridge even had houses and shops built upon it. The famous story rhyme London Bridge is Falling Down is in reference to these many changes) to the Tower of London (the oldest medieval castle still standing today; it is now the home of the queen’s jewels) and much more.

Since living in Greece I’ve found that I am becoming quite the kebab connoisseur. Eastern Boy has suggested we write a tourist book based solely around where to eat the best kebabs in London. However, I must admit I have been very disappointed with the quality I have experienced since eating in the city. The stands on my street are nothing to brag about and I’ve actually taken to ordering popcorn chicken as opposed to my favorite meal. While staying at a hostel in North East London I had a kebab that topped my list of London kebabs; it was spicy and fresh, but nothing prepared me for the delight that Eastern Boy found at a kebab stand near his work. We decided to skip the river cruise and headed to the Alegate East area of London for me to make my rating. Two Indian guys run the shop and the naan bread is made fresh to order in front of your very eyes. The chicken is tenderly cooked to perfection and freshly cut off the skewer, topped with mixed salad and cabbage and complete with a mix of three sauces, garlic, spicy chili and ranch. Need I say more? Yum!

I’ve been lucky to find a small group of girls to call my friends! We have started meeting in Clapham Junction every Thursday night to socialize. While this in no way is intended to be a “girls night” most nights, unless Eastern Boy braves the girl chat, that is what it has become. The goal is to each week invite every person we know in London and slowly grow our group, and meet new people and new friends. The group has consistently grown from two people to about six to eight every week and we have a blast!

I’m slowly figuring out this new life and learning my way around. I’ve actually been two places in the past day where I didn’t need to use Google’s walking directions to find it. So far, Samuel Johnson, I am not tired of London or life!

Somewhere To Call Home

Well it’s been almost a month since I posted my last blog and I must apologize. I freaked a little when I realized people actually read it, but now I believe it’s time to get started again. I can’t promise that I will be 100% diligent in the posting - given schoolwork and life, but I will do my best to stay up to date.

I guess I should answer the question that has everyone wondering. Yes! I found a place to live. It’s a short term solution, but I am very thankful to have a place to call home. I’ve taken residence in an area of Southwest London called Earlsfield. It is about 12 minutes by train to Waterloo and Central London and about 20 minutes to “Uni” (University as termed by the British). And, it is important to always refer to a school of high education by this term, as I found out my first day when I went to enroll at the “college” that I was a little old for the high school courses. Anyway, I digress. The flat is directly across from the train station and in the main hub of Earlsfield. There are cheap food places, primarily chicken and kabab stands and local bars just seconds from my door. On many a night I enjoy watching in the dark out of my 2nd story window as a couple drunkenly quarrel below. Oh how I love other people’s drama. Now, the flat is nothing to brag about, simple but clean. The problems have seemed to be endless; however, after a few calls to the landlord most have been fixed. I am learning to live with the hole the plumber cut into the wall in the bathroom to reach a pipe – this is still pending repair. However, at least I now have running water in the bathroom.

School work has begun to overwhelm me as I struggle to learn British Law and Policy – it seems a lot more complicated than it should be for such a small country. My first assignment is due on Monday and then the whole class is going out for a celebratory drink! My one ray of hope is that they are all as lost as I am; at least we are in this together.

London is an amazing city! I invite everyone to come spend some time and check it out. I bought the Lonely Planet guide to London and have been spending most of my free time trying to check everything off the list. The major museums are free to visit right now. However, there is a motion on the table to change this privilege. While the proposal is only suggesting to charge one or two pounds per admission, I’d much rather go while they are still free! I’ve also found a pumpkin patch in Surrey that I am hoping to visit sometime this week. This same farm grows Christmas trees and I am more than prepared to take out anyone who tries to stop me on the train in order to get my tree home!

Well, there’s a brief update with more to come in the near future.

"Have you found a place to live yet? Cause we prayed for you in church."

The search for a flat in London has been no easy task. "I’ll find a place in a couple of days of hard searching," I'd told my mom leading up to the trip. "I mean how hard can it be? It's a big city; lots of people are offering room lets!" Well, I was right about one thing; lots of people are offering room lets. I just didn't take into account the enormous amount of people looking for room lets. I thought that Saturday and Sunday would be great days to see a few places, given people's schedules could be a little less busy -- wrong again. I am beginning to realize viewing apartments is a little like a business and on the weekends it's closed. Of course, as an American I don't think any store, office, establishment should ever really "close". We have 24-hour stores; bank ATMS, restaurants, etc. Here the harsh reality is at 7 p.m. if you haven't eaten or gotten what you plan to eat from the supermarket -- don't expect to go there. Saturday was a complete bust when no one returned any e-mails, calls or text messages. Kelly suggested I take a day to not think about it and try again on Monday. But the thought of having school and searching for a flat is too much for my little mind to contemplate at this point. So the search continued late into the night on Saturday night. I must have searched through 100 plus room advertisements, e-mailed at least 20 people and texted even more! I've found that to be a player in this game one must be aggressive. The rules of calling and texting people you've never met are much different than in the States; while the stores might close the people don't. I've sent e-mails to people about rooms and gotten texts from them at 11 p.m., 1 a.m. 8 a.m. etc. There are no boundaries when finding a home/flat mate (unless it means SEEING it on the weekend)!

Waking up Sunday morning was a little disappointing when I found only one person out of at least 20 people had responded to my e-mails/texts. But I was able to confirm a time to see a one bedroom apartment way out of my price range ... maybe I could find a roomie? Desperate times call for desperate measures! As the day progressed I received a couple of more texts and was able to set up three viewings for Monday evening after my 9-5 induction lectures are finished. These are closer to my price range and cheaper, in the areas I wish to live and seem really wonderful! The flat mates seem like a fun crowd as well. Things might just be looking up.

The hostel where we currently reside is actually a pretty cozy place. The owners have completely redone the inside and it's nicer than any hostel I've ever stayed! There are marble floors in the hallways, tile in the kitchen and hardwood floors throughout the bedrooms. The all girls dorm of eight only have four girls staying, including Kelly and myself. The room is complete with a fireplace, crown molding and mood lighting in the ceiling. There are two kitchens on the first floor and both have granite counter tops and stainless steel appliances. There are 4 ovens, 4 microwaves, 7 toasters, washers/dryers, free tea and toast and much more. Over all it’s not a bad place to spend a couple of days. Of course, the bathrooms in hostels are always a challenge. I’ve never been so happy to have my wet wipes along! A swift wipe of a wet wipe allows me to sit comfortably! Yesterday Kelly and I went to the fabulous Waterloo flat to take “one last good shower” since Alberto had been so kind to allow us one extra day to move our things (many thanks again to Douglas for the use of the flat!). We enjoyed every minute of the clean bathroom and good water pressure and bare feet. However, tonight when I climbed into this hostel shower with my shower shoes I was not disappointed! It felt as if someone had turned on a thick water hose of warm water. It wasn’t until I turned off the water that I realized that I was in fact still in the hostel!

My current roommates are pretty great as well. One girl’s name is Pam and she will be 27 on Wednesday! When I told her my birthday is tomorrow she graciously invited Kelly and me along to her birthday dinner on Wednesday with some girlfriends she thinks we’d get along with well. She said we could have a joint celebration. We graciously accepted!

The other girl has been here four weeks while waiting for her boyfriend to move to London. She was talking about how he is hopefully moving this week and they will just go out and find a flat on Friday. She said, “It won’t be quite hard. There are loads of people around offering flats. We’ll just pick a place and be out of here.” I almost laughed out loud. She sounds like me just a week ago! Perhaps she’ll have an easier “go at it”.

The hostel does offer free wireless internet, but it is spotty at its best and non-existent the rest of the time. I had written on Will's wall earlier in the day yesterday and I was a little disheartened when I saw he had been online but hadn't responded to me when I noticed his wall post, "Have you found a place to live yet? Cause we prayed for you at church." Keep those prayers coming little brother! :)

I realized tonight while drying my hair in the hallway (because there are no plugs in any bathroom or bedroom – I just don’t understand the logic! There MUST be a reason) that I’m happy here. Yes, I’m homeless. Yes, I am over an hour commute to school daily. Yes, I have to wake up at 5 a.m. and leave before 6 a.m. Yes, they are doing work on the tube so I’ll have to catch two buses, three tube lines and then the train to school, but I still really like it here. I’m so excited to get settled. Once that happens I expect a steady steam of visitors, because this is one of the best places in the world!

Laugh to Keep from Crying

I am not even sure you can call the last few days a week. Since landing in London on September 14th I believe I have actually been living one long, long day. The adventures are endless. The first few days were a mad dash to check things off the list 1) get luggage to temporary flat (£134 taxi ride later - Thank you, Mom!) Check. 2) Find our way to the school (this was rather uneventful given that we had all been up for over 24 hours at this point and were beyond the point of thinking) Check. 3) Get "enrolled". eerrkkkk screeching halt! Enrollment was to begin at 1 p.m. We arrived between 1:15 - 1:30 to find the line of international students to be unimaginable. We were given a number on a green sticky note and told it would be a two hour wait! We walked around the Welcome Center and asked about phones -- the young student barely spoke English and couldn't answer any of our questions. Strike 1. After giving us a magazine about different companies we moved onto the next station: transportation. Again, the student was an undergrad 3rd year and spoke very little English. Where did we move again? Last I heard English was the common language! We asked about the Oyster Card (this is a prepaid magnetic card which gives slight discounts and quick access to London public transportation) -- he didn't know what it was. We asked about the lines and buses -- he said he'd never used them. We asked about what time the public transportation closed -- he said we should ask at the train station. Strike 2. Next we tried to register with the health center, but without an address they told us this was not possible and asked us to leave. Strike 3. We spoke to some banks, all of which said we would need a "bank letter" from the school in order to get an account. Bingo! The next station was for bank letters. What? You can't get a bank letter until you have officially "enrolled"? Strike 3. We should have been out then! After waiting in line for 30 minutes to register with the police department just to find out that Americans are not required to do this, we decided to take a seat on the cold hard tile floor in the hallway to wait and with so many people around we just wanted to be out of the way. We waited and waited and waited and then waited some more. At 4 p.m., after 2 1/2 hours of waiting they finally told us that we would not be able to enroll today and to come back the next morning at 9 a.m. Finally, completely struck out! Feeling tired, cold and completely depleted we dragged ourselves in the typical foggy, light rain, cold London weather back to the train station and rode the 45 minutes back to Waterloo Station.

Wednesday, September 15th seemed to have a better start as the bright sun shined through the fabulous flat my uncle so kindly arranged for us to stay in the first few days. Today would be better. And indeed it was! We beat the rush at enrollment. Although, even without the crowds of hundreds of international students it was clear that organization is not a strong point at the University. Still, enrollment was complete and our student IDs were in hand. There was a slight hiccup at the bank letter table when the printer wouldn't work but after some instruction on how to find the LCR (also know as a library) letters were in hand and we were off to the bank! Banks sure do like taking advantage of international students and require £8 a month and a 12 month contract in order hold an account. However, the bank rep would let me open the account without an address -- so I guess I'll eat the £96! Now on to getting a cell phone… I had met a nice man named Sam who worked at a cell phone provider shop the night before and we decided to make the long trek back into Central London to talk to Sam about our cell phone options. He was a huge help! I am now a pay as you go Vodafone member, as well as Mom and Kelly! Feeling quite proud of ourselves we headed off to eat some cheap Chinese and hit the sack.

Thursday, September 16th was my first day of orientation or what they call induction week. I must admit it came as quite a shock to find out that my school requirements were beginning more than a week earlier than the original date told to me months ago. The lectures started at 9 a.m. and were to last until 5 p.m. Thankfully, I was able to leave around 3! Feeling rushed and beginning to get a little nervous about not having housing the next day when we were scheduled to leave the fabulous guest flat things began to fall apart. For the first time since landing in London the tears landed too! And they just wouldn't stop! From 7 p.m. until 1 a.m. the tears fell -- there wasn't a dry eye in the flat!

Friday, September 17th would have to be a better day, but could any day get worse than the day before? Mom left at 6 a.m. that morning. It was so hard to see her go! I knew she felt bad about the tears from the night before and the thought of tackling flats (and making a decision) on my own felt like more than I could bear! I'm not sure at this point if we were just beyond the point of hysterics or if it was a conscious choice -- but we began to laugh to keep from crying. After asking to be excused from induction for the day Kelly and I began to tackle the task of moving our luggage. It would only take 45 minutes we said -- wrong again! Two rollers, a hiker’s backpack and an over night bag (each) weighing well over our total body weight were dragged from Central London to Northeast London. Finally we arrived… three hours later! The hostel turned out to be a pleasant surprise; clean, remodeled, and in an all girls’ dorm. Can't get much better than this! We had been able to schedule appointments to view flats for that same day. We showed up to Kelly's first appointment only one hour late. It was a small studio apartment that really didn't fit her needs. The next place was a winner and she later called and took the room. One girl down -- one more to go! My viewings were not as productive; and the walking instructions on google aren't always to be trusted. We walked over four miles to a studio apartment in what felt like the middle of no where just to walk into a room nastier than anything I've ever seen which happened to be in an area that made me very uncomfortable. However, I'm not sure what's worse, the fact that the stove was right next to the bed (which could only be convenient if I wanted to cook from bed and was more likely a fire risk), the dried pee and pubic hair left on the toilet seat from the previous tenant or the fact that the shower was not big enough for me to shower -- if I had wanted to. In about one minute we had viewed the room and graciously thanked the jerk who showed us. He had refused to give us directions but fussed when we were 20 minutes late. The next stop was better, but not by much. On the flip side the roommates would have been worth taking the room! But when he told me that the landlord lived in Africa and didn't even know the rates of his house I realized this wasn't the best place to be. It was not my definition of clean and very much looked like a frat guys’ college house. The only reason to take the room would be to have fun friends living around -- but even he said he was looking to move closer to the city. So, we made the hour long trip back to Northeast London and called it a night. It was well after 8 p.m. at this point. Once we finally arrived home around 10 p.m. we realized we had been so busy we hadn't eaten all day. A quick trip to the Salibury's market, a few strawberries, some chocolate, two cold beers, a frozen pizza and a long chat with the super friendly cashier who was close to 50 and openly flirting with us, we were good to go -- straight to bed! Tomorrow is bound to be a calmer day, we said...

Where do I go from here?

Getting started is always the hardest part of doing something new. Like this blog for example -- where should I start? Maybe it's best to start at the beginning. Until college graduation life pretty much had a set path in order to reach the ultimate goal -- adulthood. Elementary school, lead to middle school, middle school lead to high school graduation, at which point I thought I had it tough! Which school should I attend for college? At least I knew then the next step was college and college would last a whole four years before I reach freedom! I dreamed of working "nine to five" and having a life with my own money - lots of it - and no homework. I mean, isn't that what the real world is? So when four years flew by in a matter of seconds I was left asking myself "now what?" What is the big block in the middle of my path? Oh -- what's that it's asking? "What are you going to do with you life?" Wait! This is the real world? This can't be right! So here I find myself a year after graduation still trying to get my life started. Getting started is always the hardest part.