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.]

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.

Preparations: Part II

Six days left until I'll be in England, dragging my heavy bags through the turnstiles of the London Underground to some hostel -- or rented room, if I can get one by then.

Today has been a day of bank-shopping and flat-hunting. With my mom, I made some calls and went to several banks to inquire about UK accounts, wire transfers and exchanging currency for some travel cash. So far, it seems the best deal is to arrange my UK account upon arrival, wiring funds to myself from Washington Mutual (the only one to make transfers fee-free, as I've found). Once there, I'll possibly use Citibank, HSBC, or another bank with local origins. I'll be getting my British Pounds in a Wells Fargo bank in Westlake tomorrow morning. It would have been nice if a closer bank could have taken care of that part today, but as it was, closer Wells Fargo branches could only offer overnight FedEx shipping; Bank of America was worse -- it would be shipped to the bank by next Monday. Too close for comfort!

So I suppose tomorrow I'll also be at a salon, bright & early - ready for some unpleasant business involving hot wax and a cloth. Then Westlake, then more flat-searching... hopefully I can find something cheap & central, if possible no more than £100/week. I'd be so relieved if I can arrange something before arrival... and even more so if I can line up a job interview or two for the first week.

Is there anybody out there reading this looking for a journalist/copy editor/researcher/photographer/etc.???