Homecoming (A Belated Post)

Where am I? It’s dark, a little muggy, and very late. Certainly not in the last location I blogged from. Must be my bedroom back home in California (at least the fan is on full-blast, and my bed is very comfy – I’ve got a new memory foam mattress cover).


Allow me to give you a little summary of the time spent since my last entry…

Back home, the old routines have returned, for better and for worse. It’s nice to be with family and old friends again; we’ve had quite a few mini-adventures since, for which I’m grateful. I missed being able to hug my dogs and play with them every day. Even just being able to enjoy all the goodies from Trader Joe’s is a well-appreciated indulgence. I’ve kept myself occupied in a productive way – I took up an internship as a production manager for a documentary (now in hiatus) – but at present, there are too few things to keep me on regular hours, which is a bit of a downer. I’ve picked up a couple good habits, though – I’ve joined the YMCA (I’m going every other day) and I’ve just about completed my first knitted scarf (I’m making another for my grandma next).

Occupation-wise, I’m not happy. I’ve been applying to every worthwhile position on the ‘net I can think of, in bursts of can-do-spirit and bouts of laziness. I’ve done a few small things, however. A sweet older couple (friends of the family) paid me to tutor them on their computer; I’ve got a well-paid house/pet-sitting gig this weekend; plus, I’ve finally got a good number of photos submitted to a stock photography website (no sales yet, however). It’s not terrible, but I’ve still got a way to go.

My dad has been pushing the idea of me continuing CSUN into grad school, studying Anthropology. Because of a few less-than-wonderful grades on my transcript, I must take the GRE test, so I’ve got some studying to do now (mainly math). Honestly, I’m not entirely sure what I’d like to do for my thesis; I simply enjoy the field, and I’ve been pretty good at it thus far. I’ll likely do something within cultural anthropology (though I’ll be tempted to take a few more classes in archaeology). And then after grad studies… Well, time will tell.  Times are difficult enough that I’m becoming more flexible by the minute.

In other news… My grandma was hospitalized, underwent chemotherapy, and now lives in a nursing home in Santa Monica. She’s going through physical therapy in order to get herself walking independently once more (she walked into the hospital and came out atrophied – I can’t tell you how furious my mom was at her doctors). It’s a very long story.


Well now I think I’ve said enough. If I keep at this much longer, the sun will be rising and once I get to sleep, I’ll be doomed to wake at some depressingly afternoon-y hour. I’m set up for a late wake-up as it is.

I’m not sure about the future of this blog… Its purpose has already been met, as the description should have made clear. I wish I were back in London now, only with a full-time job this time.

Sorry I haven’t filled in more details about the Paris and Barcelona trips… perhaps I’ll do a little of that from time to time.

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.

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.)

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.]