The Hostel Blues, Again

Yesterday I left the hotel with a full stomach and a healthy dose of optimism. Breakfast was included with the room, served buffet-style in the restaurant downstairs; it was delicious, filling and had a full variety of goodies. I read a complimentary copy of the Sunday edition of The Daily Telegraph with my meal, and as I left, I didn’t feel a great deal of disappointment for having to stay at the hostel again, mainly because I knew things would be much better in a week. For most of the remainder of the day, I was at the British Library, and in the evening I saw Burn After Reading with Nicole at a theater in Islington (INSANELY good, by the way; it was the kind of movie that left my mouth hanging open, aghast, for most of the time, and laughing during the rest of it).

Right now, however, I wish I were at the hotel. It’s almost 4 PM and the most I’ve accomplished is buy some groceries at Tesco* and eat a grilled cheese sandwich. I don’t know whether it’s because I haven’t showered, or because I might be on the verge of catching a flu or something, but I feel really down right now. Things are nicer now, since last night I didn’t have to sleep under that French jerk raining spit from the top bunk; my new roommates are more sociable, and even the nearest bathroom is a bit larger than the other one (which certainly makes dressing better). But, it’s still a hostel. The air smells vaguely of cigarettes and body odor, most of the inhabitants speak a foreign language, I’m constantly trying to make sure my things don’t get stolen, I’m afraid to use the shower (it’s filthy and not in any way private – it’s completely co-ed), and the internet’s not free to use (it costs £2 per hour). I’m unwashed, uncomfortable, and feeling generally pessimistic about finding a job (truthfully, I haven’t even looked since last week; moving around has taken its toll time-wise, and the search has gotten so monotonous… I really can’t wait to move into my new flat, when the comforts return and I’ve finally got my own address).

I can barely imagine doing anything tonight. I texted both Nicole & Katie last night about the movie, and Katie wasn’t able to come but offered to go somewhere tonight. I have no idea where or what I’ll be doing… maybe another movie? None of the other movies were too appealing. Maybe I’ll see Wall-E again? I’m not in the mood to go to a pub, and it’s really the only thing I can think of at this point. Oh, how nice would it be if the hostel had a spa… Or even just a private bathtub. I feel so grubby right now.

You know what? Forget it. I’m paying the 15/week unlimited fee and getting some internet usage…

*I completely forgot about the hostel’s “no outside alcohol” policy… I bought some California (yay!) red wine to make some Italian food with; there’s a £50 penalty fee if it’s found. Guess it’s staying at the bottom of the bag until I can move it to my new flat. Oops.

From Panic to Indulgence

I’m quite cozy right now… Earlier today, I was a little panicked. I don’t like the feeling of not having a plan; it definitely puts me on edge. But, a couple things have been settled that put me in such a good mood that I was humming random melodies for some time, feeling rather swell.

For one, I called back about a flat I saw a couple weeks ago, located just across the street from Hyde Park/Kensington Gardens. The only reason that held me back from a decision last time was the concern of sharing a bedroom with two other girls. It’s a really big bedroom, actually, but I wanted to do the research and see if I couldn’t find myself something comparable but with more privacy. Well, even with the change in strategy (trying to get a shared flat with Katie), that didn’t happen. And over time, I came to regret my hesitation over this one. (When I walked the length of Hyde Park on my birthday, I felt it the most; I was already kicking myself over it.) I thought it’d be long gone by now, but by luck or destiny, it was still available today! So… I went to see Tatiana this afternoon, and now that I’ve given her the deposit, I’m set to move in next week, Monday!

Meanwhile, I’ll be living in the hostel for another week, only this time with the knowledge that I’ve got a beautiful flat waiting for me. I’m going to be moving some of my stuff over there already sometime soon.

The second thing that was nice to take care of was a bit expensive, but necessary, and kind of a treat, too. The hostel I was staying at was booked solid for tonight, as were all the other hostels. The only really cheap accommodations available on such short notice were located in Greater London (e.g., Heathrow) and neighboring towns (e.g., Luton). So rather than go far away, I opted to spend a bit more; and I could have spent a LOT more, but I got lucky. So, right now, I’m sitting atop a comfy bed in the Waverly House Hotel in Bloomsbury. I’ve just had a lovely bubble bath with hot cocoa and “Viennese whirls” (vanilla biscuits). I even watched some “Strictly Come Dancing” and Stephen Fry’s American travel show earlier. It’s very clean, well proportioned (I really like the high ceiling), with all the necessary conveniences, and it even comes with breakfast, served till noon. The building itself is quite old, but well kept (it does wonders for my imagination).

It’s easy to feel a bit smug right now… So cozy in my pajamas in this hotel, with my own privacy, knowing that some of my friends are in hostels at this moment; and for those that aren’t, knowing that the flat I’m going to be living in is much swankier than theirs (I’ve even got a porter and a cleaning lady!). Ah, sooo cozy…

By the way, in between watching TV and having a bath, I walked towards the West End to check out Chinatown. It’s nowhere near as big as the Chinatowns I’ve seen before (Los Angeles & San Francisco) – it’s only a few blocks across, actually – but it had plenty of Chinese restaurants. I had dinner in a sort of mixed Asian restaurant; it had Chinese, Japanese and Thai food on its menu. I wanted something filling, so I opted for pork ramen and a green tea. I read some of Steven Pinker’s The Seven Words You Can’t Say On Television meanwhile, and I can’t say the part I was at was particularly appropriate for dinner-reading. Perhaps I would have preferred to read some manga with my ramen.

(Nothing like a little CSPAN to encourage sleep… I downloaded an episode of “This Week In America” on the BBC iPlayer. By the way, I’ve appropriated all the extra pillows in the closet… There’s a down pillow, too!)

Life in The Clink (a first-time hostel experience)

When all is said and done, at least I had a nice night out. The part before that was uneventful, and the part following was, to put it lightly, annoying.

At the beginning of the day, I packed up my things in the guest room and Gill drove me to the Harpenden station and saw me off. I pre-paid at “The Clink” hostel, lunched and browsed the internet for a few hours at the British Library, and went back to check-in. They gave me a sheet (but no towel), told me about the free breakfast, and instructed me to check out by 10 the following morning. I’d made some plans with Katie to meet her and several other people at a pub in Shoreditch, but I still had a couple hours before that, so I took the time to explore St. Paul’s and the surrounding area (I’m sad to report that the pigeon lady of Mary Poppins is no more).

I won’t bore you with dialogues, but I had a great time at the pub with everyone. Katie, Matthew (Katie’s boyfriend), Nicole, Andrew, Keith, Keith’s girlfriend (I can’t remember her name), and Jackie were there. I had a pint of apple cider (not the Martinelli’s kind), meanwhile thinking it would be a really good idea to have some dinner, so it was little surprise that I was all gung ho about Jackie’s idea to go to a “Tennessee-style” chicken place up the street. Bad idea. I ordered 3 pieces of chicken, coleslaw, and an apple pie, which under normal circumstances (i.e., KFC or Popeye’s) would make me feel a bit guilty perhaps, but not so bad overall. The chicken was very greasy and the skin was baggy; the coleslaw had too much mayo & vinegar; and the apple pie was dry and tended to stick to the insides of the box, making it difficult and messy to eat. On the positive side, I got to see Andrew’s place; Nicole, Jackie and I accompanied him to his flat to eat. As far as inexpensive London flats go, it wasn’t bad; it was clean, and the location was convenient.

Back at the hostel, I gulped down a huge glass of ice water at the bar to make the greasy chicken feeling go away. When Nicole and I went to our separate rooms, it wasn’t long before the other 7 people living in my room showed up, and I suddenly had a much greater appreciation for my previous situation. Much greater. I don’t know how I can emphasize it enough. They all crashed into the room at about 2 AM, laughing loudly and speaking French; only one of them attempted a half-hearted excusez moi. They must have all thought I had a stick up my arse because they thought it terribly funny to talk about me (I’m not fluent in French, but I knew enough in the circumstances); the one bunked over me jostled the bed to excess and even tried to drop a huge wad of spit on my head when I was using the reading light at the end of the bed (the words tête and “spit” caused a lot of laughter in their conversation just then), the dried, foamy remains of which were still there in the morning. (I wonder, what’s the French word for “assholes”?)

The breakfast this morning wasn’t impressive… There was nothing but toast and cereal; to drink, there was tea, cocoa, and instant coffee. £18 per night well spent, right? Well under the present circumstances, even that would be just fine. I was only able to book for the one night, and now I can’t find a single hostel with a free bed for tonight. I’ve been frantically searching the internet for options, but the best I could find so far is located far away, and more expensive. Or, MUCH more expensive, and fairly central. It’s easy to get a little panicky at this point.

Birthday in London

Today was a different sort of birthday. On this day, I turned 24 (ancient!), and it was the first time I’ve ever had my b-day away from my friends and family. Normally, today I would be receiving tons of phone calls and going out in the evening for dinner with my family; furthermore, I would be planning my party for the following weekend. Halloween would be in full swing just about everywhere (it’s practically non-existent in the UK), and I would plan my party accordingly – on Saturday Megan might have been over already from the night before, and we would be putting the decorations up. It could have been themed (last year was ghostly pirates; two years ago, it was Nightmare Before Christmas; this year might have been the 20s, with some kind of Halloween twist), or more general, with a sort of black streamers and cobwebs sort of look. The cake would already be in the fridge (either chocolate or glazed fruit & custard), and all the snacks would have been ready in the kitchen, with fruit and cheese Danishes for the morning following. The details of the party itself would vary, but as per tradition, at some point we’d be having cookie dough and watching movies into the wee hours.

Sadly, there shall be no cookie dough this year. Even if I wanted to (how sad would eating cookie dough alone be?), it would be “biscuit” dough… and that certainly doesn’t sound as appetizing. I don’t know what I’ll be doing this weekend, anyway.

But enough of being hypothetical and sad… Let me tell you about today.

It took some doing to get myself out of bed and into the world this morning. I had one of those “where am I?” sort of moments that follows deep sleep and a long, vivid dream (I forgot it instantly). Abby was the first to wish me a happy birthday when she brought me tea at 8 this morning (usually she or Gill does, every morning). I lay in bed for about an hour more, letting the chimes of bird calls, the “Unbirthday” song, and “London Calling” pass me by as each of my mobile phone alarms went off. At about 8:40, I’d realized I’d have to wait for the 12:17 bus if I missed the 10:17, so I quickly took a shower, dressed, and left the worries of hair and makeup for later. Gill left me a quick breakfast of cereal and a croissant on the counter, and with it a white envelope with my name on it. I ate quickly and jogged out the door, opening the envelope on the bus a little later – it was a very lovely birthday card with poppies on the cover, signed from everyone in the family. (Aww!!)

Once on the train, I actually had no idea where in London I wanted to go. For the past three weeks, I’ve always at least had an idea where I’m off to; there’s always some errand to accomplish. Anything else has been incidental. Today, however, I therefore decided to get off at St. Pancras (instead of Farringdon, from which I go to BUNAC usually) and from there head to Hyde Park. I had a few hours to spend; I wouldn’t be meeting Nicole and Katie till 3.

It was odd setting off on my own, still thinking of my birthday and how different this one would be. It didn’t feel particularly birthday-ish, and it was easy to feel a little sorry for myself (I wanted to call Kim & Megan so badly!). When I entered Hyde Park, even though I consulted the map at its entrance, I had barely the faintest idea of how huge it all was. I just picked a trail and went with it.

I’ll spare you the details of everything in Hyde Park & Kensington Gardens, but I will say that what I encountered reminded me of why I chose London. It’s easy to fall under the spell of familiarity, having been here for a little while, but there are certain things that are so strikingly awesome that I’m inclined to either pinch myself to be sure I’m awake or just stand transfixed, taking it all in and willing the scene to stay with me forever. There is nothing like seeing an amazing place for the first time, and today will stay with me for a long time. Once I got past The Serpentine and entered Kensington Gardens, I was convinced this was London’s birthday gift to me. It was like jumping into one of Burt’s chalk murals in Mary Poppins, only infinitely more expansive. It was one massive painting, full of Italian fountains, statues, memorials, and gorgeous landscapes; the old-world ideal of Man’s taming nature into a Victorian Eden. To see one highlight after another was a surprise, and I’ve still got plenty to discover yet. (By the way, I must say of the Albert Memorial: OH, MY. I knew Queen Victoria was in deep mourning for some time, but I didn’t quite expect to encounter such a huge and expensive tribute!)

(*YAWN!* Wow, is it already 2:15 AM?!)

To describe the rest of my day would be mostly a retelling of a series of conversations, which of course I’ll avoid here; I can, however, describe the venues…

I met Nicole & Katie at the Kensington High St. tube station, and from there led them to the Orangery. Neither of them had ever had an English afternoon tea, and from my previous experience there with my mom & Kathy last spring, it was the perfect place for it. Curiously, though, neither of them had tea; both had chardonnay and desserts (shortbread & scones/clotted cream, to be precise). I had one of the full tea settings – champagne, tea, scones, salmon sandwiches, and chocolate cake with heavy cream on the side. We probably spent like an hour and a half there, just chatting and enjoying the atmosphere.

That was as much as I’d planned, so after that I pretty much followed their lead… Katie had already planned to go to a lecture on the politics of climate change at the London Economic College (I think that’s its name) in Holburn, and Nicole and I went along with her. Andrew met us there.

The lecture was by Professor Lord (!) something-rather-Giddens, and he was enjoyable to listen to, even though the subject matter caused my attention to drift occasionally. Apparently he’d advised Tony Blair & Bill Clinton on the topic in the past, so that added an extra dimension to the experience. And apparently that particular college is famous among economic students… Not being one, I hadn’t a clue, but Nicole & Andrew assured me that it was kind of amazing just to have experienced a lecture there. Ah.

After the lecture, we sort of arbitrarily chose a direction and walked until we spotted an interesting-looking pub. On this occasion, it was The George on Aldwych. According to a golden plaque, it was built in 17-something and a famous con man that liked impersonating vicars rented a room upstairs in the 1800s. We each got a pint, and from there talked until almost 11, when Katie started to worry about having to be up at 5 the next morning. Even after that, when all but Katie were at Kings Cross, it took a while before we finally split for the evening; the parting of the ways seemed to cause more conversations than actual parting.

With 20 minutes left of my birthday, I finally got on a train to St. Albans. From there, I took a taxi. Back at the house, it took me about 40 minutes to get into the house… My back door key wasn’t working, and it took a long time before Gill heard the doorbell and let me in. (I was getting worried I might have to stay up all night, outside! My taxi was gone and there was no other way back!) Tired and relieved to be inside, I was pleasantly surprised to find a silver present with a card on my bed! All the frustration and anxiety of ringing the doorbell for almost an hour melted away. I unwrapped it; it was a book – The Most Amazing Places to Visit In Britain – and there was a note inside, dated and signed from the whole family. I’m still gushing over it, even though I feel like a complete zombie right now. (How I’ll ever manage to wake up tomorrow morning will be something of a superhuman feat!)

Well, hopefully tomorrow will be very productive. I have to leave this house before the weekend, as Gill’s 80 year-old father will be needing the guest room, and it’d be very nice to have my own place, of course. Otherwise, I’ll be staying at a hostel, which can’t be all that pleasant; also, I’d have to carry a lot more with me all the time – Nicole has already had her laptop stolen from her this week. Alternatively, I hope Katie’s hosts will allow me to stay with them. She’s told me they have a spare bed; she’ll be asking them tomorrow.

Photo-Walk in Wheathampstead

Just this once (I hope), I'm making an exception and simply reposting content from my Buzznet page. Mainly because 1) I'm sleepy, and 2) there's not much else to say on the topic.

HOWEVER, just because I think you're so special (and you really must be, if you've made it here), I'm including other images from my photo-walk today, NOT included on Buzznet (yet).

"Today I went for a walk along many of the footpaths that surround Wheathampstead, and for the first time since arriving in the UK, I brought my camera with me.

It must be the best proof that I've been really busy... Normally you couldn't pry the thing away from me.

The sky was wonderfully dramatic all afternoon, going from dark to light continually and dropping spotlights on trees and houses seemingly when I wanted it to. I saw dozens and dozens of dogs on leashes, gorgeous autumn foliage, and that trademark English lush green-ness that comes from endless raining. I enjoyed listening to my iPod for most of the time, and even did a little journaling in the middle of a field at sunset."

Other Images...

My Comments on a Commentary Show... And Other Stuff

I’ve been watching “Most Annoying TV… We Hate To Love” for almost an hour now. Very educational, actually. It’s quite a lot like the VH1 list shows I’ve watched a million times, except this time I have no idea who the commentators are and more than half of the shows listed I’ve never seen before. Which is a good thing… It’s an education in British pop culture. Makes me wonder at their sense of censorship, though, when the word “fuck” gets repeated again and again, but out of nowhere some other word gets bleeped – at least by American standards, the “F Bomb” is the worst possible thing you could say on television. Apparently it’s not “twat” that got censored… I just saw that word said a moment ago. Not that I approve of censorship or anything; I’m just really curious about where they draw the line!

…11: 50 P.M. The show just ended (what an odd time for anything to end…). Number 1 “most annoying…” was “Hollyoaks”. I was curious about that show, incidentally. I’ve heard of it before, and I’ve seen it listed in the regular programming on the TV’s guide feature, but I’ve never been interested enough to watch any of it. This is probably better, though, because now I’ve got a taste of how it’s generally received here. By the way, there was absolutely no advertising during the program.

Shanghai Knights just came on. Kim & my mom were watching it on the night before I left. As novel as it would be to watch all the parts set in London while here, I’m going to get to bed very soon.

Twenty minutes later… Well, maybe until they arrive in England.

…12:12 A.M. Hooray, they’re in England!… Boo, it’s the villain!… OMG, it’s Victorian Charing Cross!… Yay, another fight scene!… LOL, a gag about bad teeth!… Umbrella-fighting! God, Jackie Chan’s awesome… Ha, Owen Wilson’s being an Old West-style “ugly American” with the palace guard…. A Beatles reference (“Vera, Chuck and Dave”)…

12:40 A.M. Perhaps it’s time for some pyjamas… Maybe after the next fight scene…

12:55 A.M. Okay, so it’s finally off now.

By the way, regarding the rest of the day, I’ve nothing new to report. I called almost a couple dozen places to enquire about flats, but didn’t make much headway. I was hoping to arrange some viewings this weekend, but it doesn’t look like any will be done quite so soon. After the internet connection became annoyingly slow, there wasn’t much else I could do, so I spent a lot of time watching cartoons and playing games with Poppy in the afternoon and early evening. I feel pretty good about the influence I’ve had… I introduced her to “Tiny Toon Adventures” and The Nightmare Before Christmas.* I think I’ve got her hooked to both! Her childhood is therefore significantly more enriched now, thanks to me. It doesn’t even stop there – I got her a birthday present already (it’s next month): The Stinky Cheese Man and other Fairly Stupid Tales. I must admit, I’m some kind of brilliant influence. Ha.

*On a really sour note… my best friend and my mother (!) saw DANNY !@$%#% ELFMAN at the Nightmare Before Christmas showing at the El Capitan last night!! I was going to go, if I hadn’t made plans to be here, as I have ALWAYS done, for the last several years. And OF COURSE, this ONE time, the one person who I would be most excited to see there (way more than Tim Burton, really) shows up and talks at length! AND is followed up by a live performance by Evanescence doing “Sally’s Song”!!!! I will NEVER get over that!!!! GAAAAH!!! (And now that I’ve just reminded myself of that annoying fact, I will go to bed frustrated. Lovely.)

Just Thinking of Disneyland...

I’ve been listening to nothing but Disneyland music today… Listening to Main Street marching band music in Charing Cross Station, the submarine ride soundtrack in the British Library, Main Street Electrical Parade on Farringdon Road in Islington, the Country Bears show on the train to Harpenden… ironically enough, the Haunted Mansion soundtrack came on when I was walking by the St. Pancras church on Euston St. and I spotted a HUGE banner advertising that the crypts are open to the public (and from what I saw, it was a very creepy church indeed… large, grey and with enormous gothic-looking women sort of holding up the building as columns; I’m actually quite anxious to check it out, now!).

It was sort of like living in a twin reality; having been to Disneyland so many times, merely hearing the sounds can make me feel like I’m almost there. Though the weather was cold and grey, I was transported into the warm, morning sunshine of Main Street Disneyland with nothing on my mind but how many times I would be going on Space Mountain* that day and what ride I’d be going on once I’d collected my first fast pass… (Probably Pirates of the Caribbean.) And yet it’s equally strange to take in all the iconic features of London and realize I’m really there. I had a strange feeling today, when walking through Soho, that it was much too much like a Universal Studios back lot set that never ends. (I suppose that means they’re doing their jobs well at Universal.) Possibly because the multitudes of tourists, or because of the sheer force of character the place possesses… Maybe both. It was sort of funny (to me, at least) to know that I could keep walking on for a very, very long time and still not run into the next themed area. I’d have to go for a swim in the Channel before it starts to look like a French back lot.

*Try listening to the Space Mountain soundtrack while going down one of the longer escalators in the tube stations… it’s sort of farcical when you replace the beginning incline of the ride, with all the flashy lights and anticipation, with a long (and sometimes shiny – but the only flashy lights you’ll get come from the dozens of video advertisements along the escalator at Charing Cross) corridor of people waiting to get on an underground train. But you do get the effect of riding inside a very large, fast worm once you’ve arrived, and that can be exciting, too. You just couldn’t tell based on the miasma cast over every tube traveler’s face.

[Sorry for not having much to say today… I went to a job interview at Foyle’s bookshop today, and I met with Katie to discuss sharing a flat. That’s about it.]

First BUNAC Pub Meet

It’s been a long time waiting to get to this exact spot – on a bed, in my pyjamas, having just finished a cup of tea and a couple chocolate chip shortbread biscuits. Most of the day was pretty monotonous – I went to BUNAC for little more than 40 minutes, and then went to the British Library for about four or five hours to use its wireless connection, during which I had a berry tea with lemon cake (which was delicious, by the way – very moist and filled with a layer of lemon crème). Many, many emails were sent. I’d left my headphones at home (oops), so the time passed very boringly. I had hoped to make time to visit a flat in Bow, but it got late quicker than I’d realized, so it’s been rescheduled for tomorrow.

By the time I left the library, it was after 6:30. I knew that Gill was busy, so even if I’d left then, she wouldn’t have been able to meet me at the station. Kevin wouldn’t have been able to meet with me, either, since he was to be working later than usual. Obviously, it was too late for the buses, too, so whether I left then or not I’d have still needed to get a taxi home. Tonight there was a monthly BUNAC pub-meet at the Cantaloupe pub in Shoreditch. Normally, I’d just skip out on social events (fear of awkward moments, or something like that), but I gave Nicole a call, and she was planning on going, so I’d at least know one person there.

I hopped on the Northern Line, which took me to Old Street, and from there I figured out the directions to Charlotte St. in my A-Z book. I was a little bit early… So I walked a block or two up the street and back. Not much time was killed. I went inside, had a look around, and didn’t spot anyone familiar. I stood around the bar, trying to occupy myself with my cell phone, sending texts and reading old ones. At that moment, I would have preferred a nice quiet café with a cup of tea and a peaceful corner to read in, and I considered what a wallflower I must seem. Maybe it was just paranoia, but I felt some eyes were on me. (Pathetic!) I went downstairs – a lot of them, actually – to the bathroom. I tried to kill some more time, but it just wouldn’t roll over and die. I found myself upstairs and feeling awkward again… I gave Nicole a call. Fortunately, she was just out of the tube and on her way. (There is a god!) I bought myself a pint of Guinness and got a booth in the restaurant area.

The rest of the evening went very sociably; everything seemed to fall into place. I can thank Nicole for that – she got me started in talking to a couple people, which led me to speak to more people, etc. etc., until a sort of circle-of-friends was created. I talked to some people more often than others – notably Katie (from Texas; moved to Portland, OR) the two Andrews (both Canadians), Stephan (a German photographer), Chris (another Canadian!), and Andrea (from Chicago – a fellow journalism grad). Katie’s living with her boyfriend’s family, but seems quite keen to move out – she and I may even look into sharing a flat. One of the Andrews (the one not from Vancouver), Katie and I made an agreement to go to a concert together. Oh, and Katie wants to go for tea at the Orangery this week, and Nicole wants to go, too. All sorts of plans have been made. The time passed so well. We discussed travelling (Vancouver Andrew is the most well-traveled of the group – he’s spent months all over Europe; Katie spent three months in Italy last year), US elections (I had my voter information with me – it made a marvellous conversation piece), Briticisms (e.g., How does one answer to “cheers”? It’s not exactly “thank you”, so “you’re welcome” isn’t exactly correct… The consensus seemed to be that one must mumble awkwardly in response.), Canada, hostel life (Nicole’s at war with some noisy Croatians in her room), and so on. As slowly as the minutes seemed to drag at the beginning, the time had passed so smoothly and enjoyably afterward. It got late – it was after 11 PM by the time we’d noticed most of the room had cleared and we were on our way. A number of us took the tube to King’s Cross together; we didn’t split till I headed for St. Pancras to catch the 1st Capital Connect to St. Albans.

In a way, tonight reminded me of an evening in Cambridge a few years ago. The one night I didn’t meet up with Laura, I went with some fellow Gonville & Caius students to The Anchor, on Silver Street by the Cam. I don’t even remember how it was any of us got talking… only that during dinner previously, I was talking to Takeshi and someone else (I can’t forget that conversation – I retold Laura most of it afterwards; he was so anxious to ask me questions about Los Angeles and all the glitzy stuff of Hollywood; his friend – also Japanese – had to remind him that Universal Studios existed in Japan, too), and later someone mentioned going to the pub… I hadn’t arranged to meet Laura anywhere that time, so I just went along. We had cranberry spritzers on the lawn outside the pub (we took pictures of each other then, but I have no idea what became of them), and went inside when it got dark. Most of the time we chatted about cross-culture differences… there were a number of backgrounds sitting around that table in the corner; among these I remember Scottish, German, and possibly French. It was the first time I’d ever had a truly international conversation, with such variety. It’s one thing to come from a sort of “melting pot” city like Los Angeles, but it’s another entirely to be in a far-off country, making conversation about other countries. I don’t very well remember all the topics that passed over that table (I do remember once disagreeing with a German girl that some German words are easy to figure out in English – well if “garten” doesn’t sound a lot like “garden”, what on Earth else could it be??), but I remember the atmosphere to be so warm, easygoing, and full of laughter. Not much unlike tonight.

Revisiting Tourist London

(Photos: The first image was taken on my phone just before writing; the second was taken shortly after.)

It’s strange. (Though maybe I use that word too much – “strange” – especially as a word interchangeable with “weird” and “surreal”. In any case, it’s nothing ordinary as a matter of chance for my life up till now.) To explain: The reflection on this glossy screen of a laptop is not that of a bedroom or an office. The view behind me is of the London Eye, Parliament, Big Ben, the Thames, Scotland Yard, and the quintessential postcard sunset of London melting over the jagged peaks of some roof or another. There are street performers on the sidewalk behind the bench that I’m now seated on; directly behind me, there’s a “headless” man in a black suit with a skeletal umbrella, and more to my right there’s a street musician playing an electronic keyboard. (I’m not sure what she’s playing… I’m listening to my iPod.) Tourists are lining up to take their pictures. I’m right smack in the middle of Tourist London. The last time I was here I was with my parents and Claude & Kathy, taking pictures – at this same time of day, come to think. I’d captured a picture of a sunset just like this one, which later became one of the most-viewed of my London/Germany gallery on Buzznet. I sat on a bench then, too, but it was facing the other way. I’m facing the lawn at the moment.

By the way, I can’t believe I’m getting a wireless connection here… There are precisely 16 connections available, most of which, of course, are secured. But I managed to connect to one called “something wireless” with a very good connection (3/5 bars).

Truthfully, I’m killing time here. I’m not bothering to spend the extra £3 to make an extension on my rail ticket – since I bought it after the rush, I got it for cheaper, which puts conditions on the times I use it unless I spend the difference. I’ve got about 40 minutes till I need to be on the train.

[Note: I’ve just now tried to use the connection, and drat it all, it’s a pay-for connection. I’m trying a different one now. If it doesn’t work, it doesn’t really matter. It’d be kinda nifty, though.]

But, I digress… (Sorry.)

What I suppose strikes me the most strange being here, typing on this bench, is the realization that I’m not really here as a tourist. Of course, I’ve only been here for little more than a week, but I’ve gotten a taste for the annoying, desperate feelings that go with looking for a job and a place to live in London. Today was no real gleam of hope. True, I’m not sitting on a bridge in tatters with an empty cup in my hands (I saw a few of those on the way here) – I’ve got funds, a place to stay, friends, and an exit plan, if necessary. (My apologies to anyone who’s ever felt that way, but I’m not exactly Victoria Beckham, either. I’ve got a right to be frustrated, right?)

I’ve started to look at some of the more smartly-dressed people on the Tube and at all the nice Georgian brownstones and felt a twinge of envy and resentment. How on earth did they get a job? How do I get a nice flat like that? Surely not on Gumtree! What am I missing??

Today, my day went as thus: Barely made the 10:17 bus from Wheathampstead, took the train to Farringdon, perused the listings at BUNAC for an hour or two (saw Nicole there for a bit), made some phone calls/texts, and then had some lunch at the British Library whilst utilizing their free wireless internet for as long as I could (at one point it just disappeared!) before taking the long Circle tube route to Embankment and realizing that it was too late to go to Carphone Warehouse and the bank as I’d planned. Then, I ended up here, mainly for lack of any other ideas.

How many of the people here are here to sightsee? I guess a show of cameras could answer that question easily. There are just a few couples scattered across the lawn, either holding onto each other or just chatting… I can’t tell much more from this angle, sitting like this with my back facing the Eye and everything else. I must look too comfortable to fit in, sitting like this with my nose in a laptop. When I was walking across the bridge from the Embankment station I pictured in my mind the scene of Bridget Jones walking across that very bridge, lost in her thoughts, as the picturesque views of London were lost to her. (God, now I really wish I’d found that DVD before leaving California… I searched EVERYWHERE!!!)

Now I’ve gotten to rambling, so it must be time for me to finish and leave. I’ll take in the views a bit and head back to Embankment so I can take the tube to Blackfriar, and then back to Wheathampstead. The remaining evening will probably result in a mix of comfort (mainly because of the food – hot dinner, tea, and biscuits… m’mm) and self-inflicted guilt-tripping, resulting in a mad flurry of Google-searching and emailing.

[Closing note: No joy on the wireless connection. But I didn’t try all that hard.]

Some Progress... Not Much

Because I’m too tired to write normally, I’ll keep it simple once again.

Today I went to London, met up with Nicole at BUNAC, both made & received some phone calls, went with Nicole to the bank (we got our new cards), Carphone Warehouse (there was a problem with her phone; I got a new micro-SD card & reader for mine), and to a sandwich shop by Trafalgar Square for lunch (I had a bacon and sausage sandwich… too fatty, unfortunately). Then she went back to the hostel to shower & dress for an interview and I killed some time in the National Portrait Gallery before going to the very fringe of Zone 2 to view a flat (first one, too). Pros: it was very cheap and came with wireless internet. Cons: it’s out of the way and not very clean; plus, it’s a room share.

Hopefully tomorrow I’ll get plenty of other viewings done. Nicole’s moving out of her hostel and into another one, but we’ll probably meet after that’s done.

By the way: I’ve been listening to a ton of recordings on FreeSound.org, and now a handful of them are on my iPod.

Now the zombie’s going to bed… good night. Braaains…

Short & Unsweetened

Today I stayed in. I haven't been getting enough sleep, and this time I overslept.

The day was spent making phone calls, sending emails, and reading, reading, reading. Somewhere in the middle of all that, I took a bath to clear my head. It worked. For a little while. Then I went back to the grind.

I hope things are at least more interesting tomorrow.

Oxford Street: A First

I’m barely awake… The late hours have been adding up, and my day was quite exhausting anyway. Basically, I spent some hours at BUNAC making phone calls, sending emails, and signing up for flatmate-finding websites. Around 2:30 I decided to seize what I had left of the day and go shopping. I went to Primark, on Oxford St., as per a fellow BUNAC-er’s suggestion a few days ago. It was huge, it had a lot of great stuff, and it was definitely well priced. The only thing wrong with it was the huge lines to the fitting rooms & checkouts. And I still hadn’t figured out the UK version of my shoe size. I also got Abby a birthday present at Borders, on the same street. (Side-note: I can’t believe there are THREE H&M stores on Oxford Street, and all well within a mile of each other. I like H&M, I really do, but do they really need three?!)

Getting home was more of an issue than it should have been… It began with taking the normal route from Blackfriar to St. Albans, only this time the end of the line wasn’t in St. Albans. I was alternating reading my new book (just got it from Borders – Dead Funny) and the free papers they’re always thrusting in your face in London (they’re really quite good for variety), and I was listening to my iPod. Thank goodness Gill called me after I passed Luton, or else I wouldn’t have noticed it any different. I would have been in for a surprise when I reached Bedford! But, I did go to Bedford. The only way to correct it was to get off and take an opposing train. By the time I was in Bedford, my phone had just run completely out of minutes (£10 really doesn’t get you too far, apparently), so I had to borrow a stranger’s for a minute to give Gill an update. I wound up taking a Luton-bound train to Harlington, and then from Harlington to St. Albans. Between stations, I was shivering on a bench, almost entirely on my own (I spotted some shadowy figure at a bench on the other side of the tracks once… and eventually some girl in a black trench and dress shoes crossed my path); I fiddled with my phone’s camera and read my new book to pass the half-hour that kept me there until the next train. I admit I wasn’t comfortable at all, but I’m mostly sorry that I inconvenienced Gill & Kevin to that extent… Gill had waited at the station for a half-hour during the original time I was to have arrived, and Kevin drove to the station to meet me when I was finally off the train in St. Albans.

So that’s the short version of my day. There actually was quite a lot more wandering about London around Oxford Street, but I’m going to slump over my computer any minute if I don’t get to bed.

Ditched by the Bus

(Another late bedtime… Ugh.)

The bus to St. Albans’ station ditched me today – it was just me and a kid there, and I got up and was just at the curb, but it kept going anyway. The next bus was in two hours, so it really wasn’t worth the wait. I took a walk around the area for the first time; mainly, I saw the beautiful 12th century church (St. Paul’s, I think) with its crumbly, askew headstones in the churchyard (didn’t walk inside, though) and the more obvious features of country-life – namely horses & fields. I even nibbled a few wild blackberries along the footbath.

Then, I spent a few hours making phone calls, sending emails, and filling out more applications back at the house. Gill came home and then dropped me off in St. Albans so I could do some shopping, mainly because I was still on the lookout for grey dress-pants. It was faintly drizzly for the most part, but not too cold for the coat I was wearing. I bought a lamb & mint Cornish pasty from a shop and ate it under an old 14th century clock tower while the rain sprinkled all over me, but it wasn’t enough to bother me. After that, I explored the St. Alban’s Abbey – which was so very massive and full of elaborate medieval stonework. It took me a while, but I saw the whole thing. St. Alban himself was even there (his relics, anyway); I left a donation and lit a candle at his grave.

It took me far too long to find H&M – even though Abby had shown me last Saturday. Somehow I’d gotten it in my head that it was in a completely different direction, and as a result I spent a lot of time wandering up and down the high street, and on obscure little roads. The rain started to come down pretty heavily just then. When I finally did find it, I didn’t find the pants. But, I found a nice grey woolly hat that I liked – albeit too late to keep my head dry. But I wore it after anyway, because disguised the fact that I looked like a drowned rat. (I also stopped at Boots for some bathroom things – face wash, cotton balls… that sort of thing.)

Gill picked me up at 4:15, and after she made some pasta for Poppy, she took Abby to her yoga class and I watched Poppy for a while. Most of the time, I just made sure she ate, and then we played some games. We played Connect Four and Guess Who, and then I taught her how to play Go Fish.

Gill came home shortly after we started Guess Who. After the games, I watched about an hour of “Scrubs” and had dinner with everyone except Poppy – beef, apple and stilton pie with steamed veggies & baked potato. I had some delicious Cornish vanilla ice cream for dessert – it was extremely creamy. It’s official – every time I’ve had ice cream in the UK, it’s always way better than any ice cream I’ve ever had. As far as I’m concerned, Great Britain is the Ice Cream Capital of the World.

So… I did some more stuff on the internet after dinner. Watched the season premiere of Heroes on BBC iPlayer, applied for more job stuff, answered a lot of emails… and at one time (nearly just before starting to write this), had a few minutes to panic after Daddy replied to an email asking how the dogs are with “I need to speak with you.” Definitely not a good place to reply so vaguely and yet so urgently… I texted him, asking if it was really so urgent, and he called me back within the minute. I’m hesitant to use it so much because it’s a pay-as-you-go, and when I set up my voice mail earlier, it warned me that I need to top-off soon. So you can understand why I would prefer if he could just email me more often. Anyway, it wasn’t good news, but thank goodness it was nothing to do with the dogs. Angel & Major are fine, and I can go to bed relieved.

So on that note, good night.

*Yawn!*

It's presently 1:32 in the morning. I'm up far too late again - I'll be getting up at 8 again to catch the 9:17 bus to the station. Why, oh why, do I put myself through this insomniactic torture?

Today, in 120 seconds of typing:
I went to BUNAC all day pretty much... all phone calls, emails, applications and laughs at the expense of a room full of Canadians and Australians. Seriously, there was only one other American (well, maybe two -- I wasn't always paying attention) in the room, and by far he was the only other one from California. And, as slim chances would have it -- he was from CSUN! He came from Omaha originally, but...

[Okay, make that 180 seconds...]

...came to CSUN because of the high rate of film-related jobs its students receive. So after a few of us exited together (two Americans and two Canadians) upon closing, toward Farringdon Station, we'd decided to all go out for a late lunch/early dinner. As we progressed, we lost the other CSUN-alum, then another to a nearly-late flat-viewing appointment, and finally, it was down to me and the remaining Canadian guy. So it was with empty stomachs we went to a pub across from the station, called The Castle for burgers and ale. Nicole had done most of the talking to him earlier -- mostly comparing how superior Vancouver people think they are compared to Toronto people -- so the dinner conversation began fairly afresh. We mostly chatted about favorite things about our home-cities, European traveling, and several random, rediculous topics suitable only with a half-empty glass of ale. I probably did too much of the talking, because I can mostly recall going on about Disney theme parks, the Getty Center, the white picket fences of the 1950s San Fernando Valley, and funny German words. I promise I didn't monopolize the conversation too much, though.

[Oops. I went over several minutes longer than intended.]

Anyway, I got back at St. Albans at about the same time as Kevin, so I met up with him again, and we stopped for petrol and fish & chips on the way back, telling him about my day en route. Then I told Gill all about it, and I later had some tea & chocolate biscuits whilst playing World of Warcraft (at last!) and listening to Stephen Fry's Podgrams.

One Rainy Sunday Afternoon

Today has been... relaxed. Not much exciting has gone on, but in a nice way.

My alarm woke me up at 9:30, but I stayed under the covers a little longer anyway. By 10, Abby brought me a cup of tea. While letting the tea cool, I fell back into sleep till 10:30 - when I got up suddenly, realizing that breakfast had already been in progress. Not bothering to change into regular clothes, I went downstairs in my jammies & joined everyone mid-breakfast. There was a full spread - sausages, veggie sausages, scrambled eggs, chocolate muffins, tea, juice, bacon, baked beans, and roasted mushrooms & tomatoes.

I hung around the kitchen a bit, watched some TV, and went upstairs for a shower. Unfortunately, by the time I came downstairs, Camille, Mark & their daughters had gone.

The rest of the day was divided between working on my CV & cover letter and playing with Poppy - watching films (she saw Singin' In The Rain for the first time - and, to my delight, loved it), pretending to be "spies on holiday", and "camping" in her pretend-den (a sheet tent in the living room).

We had pizza & salad for dinner, with leftover lemon tart (with crème fraîche) for dessert.

Fin. (For now.)

Dinner Candles & Conversation

I admitted to being half nervous and half excited about coming to the UK for the six month duration. But after this evening, I must say, I feel rather comfortable. Staying with Gill & Kevin has been the best possible way to arrive.

I feel so cozy right now, satisfied by a wonderful meal and the happy warmth of good conversation, and now I’m just winding down in bed with a nice cup of tea.

Tonight had. been prepared in honor of Ally’s upcoming birthday (it’s this Wednesday). After we all come home from a day of shopping and lunching in St. Albans, Gill went to the kitchen and began preparing a dazzling feast. I watched Monsters, Inc. with Poppy sitting on my lap while Kevin snoozed away on the sofa (Mark was there doing the same for part of the time). Camille was with Gill, and I suppose Abby, Jess & Ellie were upstairs in Abby’s room. Dinner was served with candles and champagne; everyone but Kevin, Poppy & myself had opted to dress up. As per their tradition, everyone at the table got a wrapped present on their plate. When everyone was seated, the wrapping was shredded; Kevin & Mark got chocolates, Gill got a block of stationary, I got a passion fruit perfume, and the others got draw-on-yourself plates with permanent markers. It was a fun tradition – even little presents add a lot of spark to the beginning of a meal. (I’m thinking of adopting the tradition, too!) The starters were seared scallops with baked garlic, Parma ham and pulverized peas, and a mozzarella alla caprese salad with avocado (though Gill gave it another name – something to do with “three colors” in Italian).

We had about an hour to wait before the main course could be served, and thus a decision to make on how to spend the time. Abby brought down some cards for a game of “Would you rather…?” – and it filled the time so very easily. It started out in turns and eventually mingled into regular conversations – and I must admit, the champagne may have helped. It was fun, silly, and engaging. At the beginning of the evening I occasionally felt a little outsider-ish, but it wasn’t long before that feeling went away. Camille & Mark have even invited me to come stay with them – and I think I may take up their offer, possibly en route to visiting Ellie (Glasgow Ellie, obviously) It’s funny; I could picture myself like Julia Roberts’ character in Notting Hill a little – think of the scene when she comes to dinner for the first time. By the time the main course was finished (it was chicken stuffed with feta & wrapped in bacon, and an unpronounceable but extremely flavorful Turkish veggie dish involving potatoes, sweet potatoes, curry, some kind of fruit, cilantro, and other things), I had finished two glasses of champagne and begun a glass of something called a Kea (?), and the time had passed as smoothly as if on greased rails. We had dessert after; it was an and/or choice of blackberry & apple crumble (with custard or crème fraiche – I chose the latter) and/or a French lemon citron tart (I had both).

I helped clear the plates and joined the girls in the living room, where “Little Britain USA” had JUST finished (credits rolling) as I entered (I didn’t even know the show was on the air already!), and “Live at the Apollo” had begun. I guess there must be a second famous Apollo theatre here, too, because Jimmy Carr kept addressing the crowd as Hammersmith. Anyway, it was everyone together again in the living room, all cozy on the couches and chairs (and air mattress, partly). The other performer (the main one) was Allan Carr. There were some jokes I didn’t entirely get – and Gill explained some of those references (e.g., an A&E is like an E.R.) – but it was funny nonetheless.

When that was over, Kevin and Mark turned the channel over to football (Blackburn vs. Manchester United – Gill cheered for Blackburn), and one-by-one the room emptied as the girls went upstairs, Camille went to bed, and then eventually Gill & I went up to bed as well, though I had planned to go on the internet a little bit before coming up here. But, I ended up changing into my jammies and writing, and only now I’m about to go downstairs for a little quality internet time. I’ll be checking my emails, of course, and maybe I’ll get a little World of Warcraft in, too – it crept into my dreams last night, so that must be some kind of a sign.

Oh, and tomorrow morning we’re having a “full English breakfast” before Mark, Camille, Ellie & Jess leave.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Post-blog note: (2:17 AM)
The problem with going online for 2+ hours after a cozy evening remains that I start to feel disconnected from the aforementioned cozy feeling. I’ve been sucked into the online world and subsequently spat out just in time for a few hours’ sleep. And worse still, I didn’t get the chance to play any WoW.

Post-post blog note: (2:22 AM)
The Flight of the Conchords’ “Hiphopopotamus vs. Rhymenoceros” is playing a loop in my mind, all because I used the word “subsequently” in the previous paragraph. “O-ther rappers dis me, say my rhymes are sis-sy…”

Orientation Day

I feel like I’ve already written about today, because I’ve done so much instant messaging this evening, but I’ll oblige whoever happens upon this page and tell about it again. (Warning: It’s none too exciting. Mostly things to do with walking.)

This morning began a little earlier – 7 AM – as Gill had to take Poppy to school after dropping me off at the station. By quarter-past 8 we were out the door, and shortly after, I was on the train once again, en route to London. I’d caught the slower train, but that was just as well, since I was very early to begin with; I passed the time watching an episode of Monk on my iPod (it was “Mr. Monk Buys A House”, since you’re so insistent to know).

I’d arrived at Farringdon Station just after 9, leaving me with more time than I knew what to do with. Orientation was at 10:30, and I had no idea how to pass the time in Islington (all I knew about the area really came from Dirk Gently). I started out by walking towards BUNAC – down Farringdon Road, toward Bowling Green Lane – and when I reached the Lane, I kept walking. I arrived at a fairly substantial intersection, turned right, headed down between a narrow path of shops and cafés, made another turn, and sat in a small park by a church to finish watching Monk. Then I walked all around again, making one different turn, bought a hot chicken & mushroom pastry and a sort of honey vanilla soy smoothie, walked some more, ate my food, etc. etc. I thought I’d killed some time, but I still had 40 minutes to go. A few minutes went by before I resigned from the idea and got in early. I signed in, filled out some papers upstairs, browsed the internet for affordable flat-shares and checked my email.

Then, the orientation began at 10:30… we watched a short film about a Scottish tour called “Haggis” whilst the remaining people filled out papers, then we looked at PowerPoint slides whilst Caroline (if I’m not mistaken) gave us the full lowdown for two and a half hours. (It wasn’t as excruciating as it sounds – she was a pretty nice speaker.)

(It’s amazing I’ve already filled a page’s worth of stuff for the most boring parts, isn’t it? Just pray I don’t get bored of this myself, and give up early.)

ANYWAY. So, with that, Caroline ended the lecture and released us into the wild. There were boards containing jobs, accommodations, travel deals, and so on; printed faxes to be read; and many, many lists to read. I copied down a few of them, gathered all the lists, and got a media-focused list of jobs, agencies and informational websites.

Starting that process, I chatted with some other BUNAC-ers; I got to know a couple Aussies a little bit, and eventually got to chatting with a Canadian – Nicole – for quite a while longer. In fact, the two of us didn’t do very much research in the time sitting there… we were there for about an hour after the orientation had ended, and all we’d really done was gather papers. She’d gotten her appointment for the bank, though, and eventually had to leave to make time. But, I didn’t have much to do for the time being except see to my phone problem, and I could do that nearby the bank anyway, so I tagged along. Since I’d taken the bus to a certain extent en route before, we followed the walking directions at first, and when we were relatively nearby, I led the rest of the way. We had a lot of fun comparing the differences between Canada and the US – or California, more specifically; all the stereotypes, pop culture, attitudes to sports, etc. And both of us really, really want to see the movie W in a London cinema when it comes out. Anyway… We reached the NatWest bank on-time, and unlike my experience yesterday, in which I was pointed in many possible directions before finally landing on the right place, I led the way once more, helping her skip all the nonsense I had to put up with. The rest of the process took much longer than expected, however; I sat outside an office and read a free paper cover-to-cover until she came out (she’d expected I might’ve just left by then).

After that… (Are you still reading this??) The both of us headed to a Carphone Warehouse on The Strand. I enjoyed the novelty of her experiencing it for the first time – The Strand is, of course, the idealized version of London usually best imagined, and especially with the sun shining through its center at that particular moment, with the dramatic clouds left over from an early morning rain – it was a sublime sight, like something from a Turner painting.

And so on, and so forth, etc. etc… Walking down the Strand, pointing out the hotel I stayed at with my parents last spring and that great little café next to it… So anyway, after much time and deliberation, I helped her chose a pay-as-you-go phone (unlike my phone, hers didn’t include a SIM card, so she needed a new phone altogether), and my own phone problem wasn’t in any way improved. (Meanwhile, back at the farm…) My dad was checking the code and advised me to check my email. So it was not without hope that I left that shop.

It was after 5 PM, and by then I figured it was a good time to head home. We parted ways at Charring Cross Station, with her taking the Northern Line back to the student hostel & I taking the Bakerloo Line to Blackfriar Station, where I could get a train back to St. Albans. (We’d already exchanged contact information.)

Back at St. Albans, Gill was unable to pick me up (she was getting ready to leave for a choir practice), but Kevin was en route via train from London right behind me, and caught up with me about fifteen or so minutes later (meanwhile, my dad texted the correct unlock code... yay!). One brisk, longish walk later, we were at the car and listening to BBC 4 go on about the credit crunch and billionaires not buying football clubs. Gill was just leaving as we were arriving; dinner was put in the oven an thirty minutes later we had a sort of pasta casserole with gorgonzola, bacon, and veggies, interrupted only once by my – now working! – phone, as my dad had called to confirm some details for the wire transfer from WaMu.

Gill came home relatively early, right after dinner. I spilled the details of the day and he let me know about the weekend’s plans, inviting me to join if I felt inclined to. I won’t be going into London for the weekend – there’s no need – and I can easily take care of the other things (e.g., cleaning up my CV, writing cover letters, etc.) in addition. We’ll be waking at no particular time with a fairly open schedule; depending on the weather, we may go hiking, shopping, or do something else. Sunday will begin with a Full English Breakfast and the remaining day will be fairly relaxed. I’m looking forward to it all.

We’ll be doing these things along with some of their friends (drat, I forgot some names already…) from a more northerly region of England; they arrived around 11pm, and I enjoyed some time with everyone all in the living room (note: I still haven’t worked out whether that’s what they call the room in the UK; Gill may have seemed a little confused once when I mentioned it), albeit occasionally a little awkwardly on my part. I didn’t always get all the references, but Gill usually filled me in on things, and brought me into conversations (thank you, Gill!). They’re a great group; tomorrow should be quite fun.

Oh god… it’s 2:55 AM. Whoops.

G’night!

Lists

I have to get up early tomorrow, so I'll make this quick...

In sum:
1) I took care of my banking stuff; all I need now is to wire some more money from my home account.
2) I got a UK phone number (new SIM card)... but my phone's complaining about it being locked to the old network, and my mom got me some code that's supposed to undo that, but it's giving me trouble now... so I'm going to have to go back to the store later and get them to try it.
3) I roamed the National Gallery for a bit; most notably, I saw some famous Turner & Renoir paintings to my liking.
4) I got a sandwich (chicken & bacon, if you must know) and a ginger beer, went to St. James Park, and splurged on a £1.50 chair-for-rent (comfier than grass and more available than benches), where I had my little lunch & fiddled with my new SIM card.

Impressions:
I wasn't familiar with the more northern portion of London (where BUNAC's office is; I had to go there before heading to the bank); it was less remarkable than the more familiar parts of the city (Westminster, the West End, Kensington, etc.), but I figured it out soon enough (thanks to a lovely little pocket map book Gill loaned me). Going to the other areas was a different sort of familiar experience. I'd been to these parts before on vacation, and this time, being solo and with particular goals in mind... well, I don't know exactly how to put it. Maybe I felt a little better than the tourists this time. Maybe I felt a little more free, knowing that I didn't have to stop at every landmark; six months is a lot of time, and I can admire/take pictures of these wonderful things any time I want to now. And by the end of the day, I was happy to make the commute back to Hertfordshire. In Gill & Kevin's house, I can relax, watch some TV, and have some tea. They're more than gracious hosts, and I enjoy their company.

Tomorrow's plan:
1) Wake at 7 AM.
2) Leave the house at about 8 (Gill has some places to go in the morning) & take the train from St. Albans' to Farringdon Road.
3) Kill a little time in London before arriving at BUNAC at 10:30 AM.
4) ??? (I don't know what all the Orientation stuff will lead to.)
5) Possibly take care of the phone thing.
6) Get back to St. Albans before 7.

The First Morning

I’ve just woken up with that wonderful “Where am I?” feeling. It was nice to remind myself of where I am and where I’ll be going today. (Appropriately, I’d set my phone’s alarm clock to play “London Calling”.) I put on the radio to sort of wake myself up a little more, and I listened to BBC 4 – they were talking about Greek philosophy and Byzantine history. I can’t stress how much nicer it is to hear about that sort of stuff, compared to the talk radio at home. (No wonder my mom wakes up with a headache when my dad’s clock radio goes off!) To clinch the overall feeling, I opened the curtain and looked out on a vivid section of “this scepter’d isle” – a green field, thick hedges, and a few backyards (aka, “gardens”). There’s a largish brick building a ways beyond, with a full parking lot; and beyond the yards there’s a small road that’s frequented every couple minutes or so by some people out to catch the morning air.

Well, I need some breakfast. And some fresh clothes. Today will doubtless be a full one.

… Note: I’ve JUST gotten a wireless connection (at last!). My usual Firefox Google homepage has actually recognized that I’m in the UK – how cool is that!!

Arrival

Laying on this guest bed now, typing and listening to my iPod, I can barely conceive of the fact that I was laying on my own bed at home doing the very same thing just over 48 hours ago. It’s equally inconceivable that during half that span, I was en route, in Chicago for a few hours, then on an Air India flight to Heathrow (a strange experience, by the way – I was one of the approximately 1% of passengers that wasn’t Indian; combine that with the Hindi writing & announcements, the Bollywood in-flight entertainment, the predominantly yellow/white/red décor, the Indian food, and the sari-wearing flight attendants, and I half-believed my destination was actually India; adding to the feeling, I watched The Darjeeling Limited). It’s like being in an entirely separate reality, spaced only by a few lapses of regular consciousness from resting my eyes but never fully sleeping. Altogether the distance I’ve crossed, the places I’ve been and the people I’ve now met – the combined experience of two days bleeding one moment into the next makes for a pretty surreal impression of time.

It’s amazing I’ve still got the energy to write this. Getting to London was only half the battle. After that, I had to navigate the London transport system with a combined 100 lbs of luggage (two check-ins, one backpack), up and down stairs repeatedly. Fortunately, some people took pity on me and assisted me each time. And so promptly! I must have been quite a sight.

Some time after 4 PM, I finally made it to St. Albans’ station, where Gill and her daughter Abby picked me up. The rest of the evening has been a nice one, of getting to know the whole family. The youngest daughter, Poppy (going on five), has taken to me so well – she likes to tell me about all kinds of things, and sometimes she gives me presents (little things – pennies, an orange feather, & a gold star – for various reasons). Abby (fourteen) is enamored by California, and she plans on going there with friends in a couple years’ time. She’d visited with her parents before (my dad flew them around the area), but there’s much I’d like to suggest she visit. The former Camarillo State Mental Hospital (now CSU Channel Islands) was one I mentioned; she’d like to tour the spooky parts, I’d imagine. Kevin is more reserved, but we have a few favorite TV shows in common – like Doctor Who, Torchwood, & Top Gear. Anyway, we’d all been talking in the kitchen (Gill made a delicious beef stew with horseradish crème fraîche sauce, and baked potato & steamed carrots on the side) and the living room for much longer than originally intended – till it was already after 11 P.M. I’ve been settling in very comfortably. I’ve already had a bath (felt sooo nice after traveling!) and a few cups of tea with milk (chocolate biscuits, too). I’ve got my third cup of tea to enjoy in bed.

Tomorrow’s plans are thus: 1) wake at 9 A.M., 2) be dropped off at St. Albans by Gill at 11:15 A.M., 3) go to Bowling Green Lane (BUNAC) to take care of my banking stuff, and 4) get a UK mobile phone (or, as Kevin suggests, get a UK SIM card with some minutes, so that I can use my existing phone). And imagine if I could have some free time after that! Maybe I could stop by a museum or something. Fancy that! Jeeze, I can still hardly believe I’m just outside London right now – in a cozy English country village, and tomorrow I’ll be navigating London again… “There’s no place like London…” (She cheesily hums.)

Right. So… tea, iPod, and some more Bryson. G’night.