London's scale boggles the American mind. Every time I walk to a new neighborhood, I'm expecting a lot of sprawl interspersed with high density areas, but everything here is high density.
I love to walk, and I've walked a lot in the three weeks I've been here. (My old jeans are a size 38; my new jeans are 34.) I tried to map out where I've been:
They say women like a man with a sense of humour, so...
10. Tell her she has something in her teeth, even when she doesn't. If she asks if she got it, tell her "not yet."
9. Shortly after meeting, suggest she completely change her hair. And her make-up.
8. Make up stories about how you were in Viet Nam, even though you were only 2 during the Tet Offensive.
7. Ask the waiter for his cheapest bottle of wine, then say never mind, you'll both just have water.
6. After dinner, announce in a loud voice that you brought "protection."
5. During any lull in the conversation, start humming.
4. Throw bread rolls playfully at her.
3. Go up to someone with a pretty date and announce, "You win."
2. At a quiet moment, look her deep in the eyes and say, in a meaningful way, "Whoa, I can see myself."
1. Tap her on the shoulder, yell, "Tag, you're it!" and run away.
I didn't say these were good things to do on a first date...
Descriptions from match.com (no names this time)
"I have a proven track record when it comes to commitment."
"Want a challenge?"
"my date must calm, lovely, gently, like smile, patient, love music & dancing or singing, sport, cooking, loves home, not drunken master, not smoker, enough money to cost our children until they..."
"Yeah I'll do."
"I like surprises and hope you do too. That's why there's no long descriptions here."
"I'll try anything twice"
"Sunny and bright, occasionally stormy. I love unexpected adventures and getting lost inside my head or someone else's."
"I'm taking a break from this and so not an active member at the moment... " [This from an active member.]
"I'm just me"
"OK.I am here. Now what."
"Funny, aware, caring, late, calm, confident, nice arse" [aware?? late??]
"just looking for a normal guy...Not too many requirements"
"Someone you could have"
"as for love, i just want the right and best one to me. if not, i'd rather be alone"
"I would like to think that I'm intelligent and attractive and good company"
"I'd like to meet someone who is...definitely not perfect and aware of his imperfections."
"Feeling Lucky? I am."
"Friends / colleagues would describe me as intelligent, successful, confident and outgoing. ( but then they better say that!)"
"I am a halfling." [Something about being part South African, but to us Tolkien fans, we know she's hot.]
"Mewling, elf-skinned" [Us Tolkien fans have no idea what that means.]
"I have been told by my friend who is standing behind me and cajoling me to write this as we speak that I am apparently...G-O-R-G-E-O-U-S !"
"Studied Law at Greenwich University, which was sooooooooo boring."
"its not easy to say amazing things about myself"
"I am an incurable romantic... who dont take life too seriously."
"Fun french social butt" [I'm sure she meant to say "butterly" but the search screen only shows 22 characters.]
"I'm outgoing (not loud), tactile (not clingy), affectionate (not soppy), intelligent (not highbrow)"
"Must like marmalade sandwiches"
"Looking for Mr sunshine" [Obviously won't be looking her up]
And someone that I am definitely going to look up--
"Handle with care. Happy, relaxed and constantly curious with an irreverent sense of humour, mischievous but not malicious, playful but not a player, broad-minded and non-judgemental but not easily led, feisty but fun..."
Unfortunately, although everyone liked the "You are..." format, I realized that in the search screen the first 200 characters were displayed, and it came off really controlling. I tried to juggle it around but it just didn't work--my cousin said the result was "direct and to the point" and my uncle said I sounded like an accountant. So I went back to the drawing board--twice--and here's what I came up with. I am also going to buy tighter jeans. (Don't ask me where that request came from.)
search screen:
gregg_from_la
A study in contrasts
I find my life is not neatly encapsulated: I'm a romantic who doesn't buy flowers, jewellery, or chocolate; my sense of
full version:
I find my life is not neatly encapsulated: I'm a romantic who doesn't believe in flowers or chocolate; I'm not materialistic but I need my creature comforts; I'm a homebody who loves to go out; I love animals but am allergic to anything with fur; I can be both independent and needy, intelligent and absent-minded, shy and inquisitive. I have no interest in sports, though I do play a little tennis. My sense of humour tends toward the irreverent and obscure. I'm fully domesticated and love to read, cook, and snuggle. I'm very affectionate, and need someone who will reciprocate.
I'm looking for someone who's also a bundle of contradictions: Outgoing and introspective, playful yet serious, strong but feminine, simple and sophisticated, smart but speaks from the heart. You are independent but like to be taken care of. You love surprises and are always up for an adventure. Your family is normal, or they live far away. (Mine live far away.) Drugs are simply not an option.
I just moved from Los Angeles, and am looking for a great friendship that may lead to a committed relationship.
[quoted "somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond" by e.e. cummings]
for fun:
All the usual: cinema, theatre, concerts, museums. I love watching old films on the big screen, meteor showers, and anything new/unusual. I love to walk anywhere--beach, city, country, doesn't matter. Don't do roller coasters or adrenaline sports.
my job:
Software developer
favorite hot spots:
Fall foliage in New England, Balloon Fiesta in Albuquerque, the island of Kauai in Hawai'i, the entire state of Arizona (but I wouldn't want to live there), and San Francisco (and I wouldn't mind living there). Also loved Morrocco and Amsterdam.
favorite things:
Films: Casablanca, Roman Holiday
Books: Another Roadside Attraction, The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test
Current music: Norah Jones, Swell Season, Alison Krauss, Kasey Chambers, Mindy Smith, Madeleine Peyroux, Corinne Bailey Rae
Food: tofu, avocados
last read:
"Newcomer's Guide to London" :-)
Now I just need to choose a primary photo...
A web site after my own heart: http://www.londonisfree.com
Just check out some things going on this week:
Plus all summer:
And of course, all museums here are free, as well. I may be living on the streets, but I'll be doing it in style!
I can't move. Every muscle aches, and I just want to stay in bed.
I met this girl at the gym--really cute, Asian with blond hair, tattoos all over her body. I'm not sure where she was from, but she didn't have an accent. She had a really nice voice, too. Funny the things you pay attention to.
Anyway, I'll skip the boring stuff, and just say she had amazing stamina, and was strong as an ox. From the time we started to the point I collapsed on the floor, we must have been going 90 minutes. She had me on my back, on my stomach, on my side, on my knees, on my feet--you name it, and she wouldn't let up. Several times I had to stop just to get some water before I passed out.
Laying on the floor, drenched in sweat, I realized I was not ready for an intermediate yoga class.
There's another yoga class Friday that someone else is teaching, but I don't think I'll be back to Cat's class--I just can't keep up.
Addendum: On Friday I went to Carl's class, which was much better except he had this nasty habit of coming over and stretching you much further than you wanted to stretch. I can't believe nothing popped, snapped, or tore. The nice thing about going to a weekday morning yoga class is that I'm the only guy there. The bad thing is that all the women intimidate me--people just shouldn't bend like that.
I was thinking -- as I lay awake at 4am -- that this is the first interview I've had in 14 years.
Or, at least, the first interview I cared about.
I did have one phone interview in San Francisco, but I'm fine over the phone; it's in person that I tend to freeze up. I had a couple of interviews with Capital Group, but the consulting agency was paying me anyway, so I didn't care if I got the job or not.
This interview was already important before I learned I'd need to come up with £4,000 ($8,000 US) to rent let a flat, which was half my savings. Now this interview took on epic proportions.
So how did I do? "Crash" and "burn" come to mind. One of the senior developers got me on a couple of esoteric C++ questions. (Dynamic casting from a derived class to a parent class, anyone?) I actually boned up on C++ yesterday, since it's been a while, but obviously not enough. Well, except for 2 or 3 questions, I think I did fine, but we'll see. (And I'm taking my C++ book back to the store for a refund.)
In the meantime, my resume CV is also being presented to BP, so now I have to reconcile all of my environmentally-conscious ideals with cold, hard cash.
P.S. Yep, I was rejected for not having "enough experience" in the aforementioned esoteric technical skills, which I'm pretty sure they're not even using at their shop. I suspect they'll call me back in a couple of weeks after they finish the other interviews and realize what a prize they let slip through their fingers, but I'm moving on.
Today your journey will begin with a one-hour warm-up at Soho Gym, just a few minutes from your hotel, because you wouldn't want to break a sweat walking to the gym. Much of the equipment won't be familiar to you, so stick to the exercise bike. (Also, the weight-lifting room will be full of large, muscular men, so try not to embarrass yourself.)
Next, you'll spend some time with the owner of the hotel showing him how to use Google AdWords and Analytics. He won't understand much of it, but he will offer to lower the price of your room by 20%. For some reason, you will argue with him, even though you still don't have a job.
Finally, if it's a beautiful day, you'll head out to walk around the city. Heading north on Earl's Court Road, you'll soon pass into Kensington and then Holland Park, a 22 hectare (55 acre) green space in the city, with playing fields, wooded paths, and open greens. Because it's a beautiful day, the park will be filled to capacity. Notice, too, the young ladies sunbathing in their bikinis.
Emerging from Holland Park, you will be in Notting Hill, or at least close enough that your friends and family won't know any better. (They only care because of the movie of the same name, and somehow they will feel better recognizing at least one place you've been.) Next, head east along Holland Park/Notting Hill Gate/Bayswater/Oxford St/New Oxford St/Theobalds/Clerkenwell. Note that although the street numbering scheme makes absolutely no sense (even and odd numbers on the same side, numbers on one side having no relation to the other side, etc.) the street names change so often that it is easy enough to find what you're looking for.
On your right, you will pass the dual parks of Kensington and Hyde (no relation to Jekyll and Hyde), which together encompass 280 hectares (about 800 acres), similar to Central Park in New York. These, too, will be filled to capacity, because a beautiful day in England is, apparently, quite rare. You will find that, in itself, a depressing thought, but soldier on--you've still got quite a ways to go.
Once past New Oxford St you will be in Camden, Holburn, Islington, and/or St Pancras. To be honest, you won't really know where you are most of the time, so try not to get worked up over it. The point is to get a feel for the different neighborhoods, and you will soon realize that the point about this neighborhood is that it's nearly deserted. Since you don't like people, that's a good thing. You're just a few minutes from the City, so it's undoubtedly a zoo on weekdays, but here you can have the weekends to yourself. You'll even find a pedestrian-only street full of little shops and restaurants (some open).
But don't stop to eat, even though it's 6pm, you've been walking for two hours, and you're quite hungry. Instead, head down Guilford Street to Coram's Field, a large gated park with a sign that reads, "Adults accompanied by children only." This will remind you of the most offensive joke you've ever heard*. (The reason for the park is just across the street: The Great Ormond Street Hospital for Children.) Continue down Guilford until it dead-ends into Russell Square, a beautiful little garden that would be the perfect place to live near if thousands of other people hadn't had the exact same thought over 100 years ago. (You are also just steps from the British Museum, even if you don't know it.)
From here, you are close enough to Covent Gardens to visit again and see if it's as nice as you remember. Head south on Southampton/Kingsway to Aldwych, turn left when you should have turned right, and go all around Bush House, home of the BBC. If there's anything even remotely tourist-related on this journey, this is it. Of course, they're closed.
Now head southwest on the Strand until you are comfortable that yes, indeed, Covent Garden is perfectly situated. It's now 7pm and you are famished, but a friend has told you about a vegetarian cafe in Leicester Square and you think you can just about make it (before you pass out) if you take a short-cut through side-roads. Half an hour later, you are back at the Strand, trying to figure out how to get around Trafalgar Square. Your blood sugar is dropping and you're getting really annoyed, but taking it out on Admiral Nelson isn't going to help.
Eventually you'll find your way to Wardour Street, and in your blind search for a street number, you'll walk right by the cafe. When you finally find it, you will be amazed that they are still open, and they will be amazed that a new customer has come in after closing time. Apparently, the food is prepared in large batches and then sold by the scoop--as unappetizing as that sounds--but they have already taken the food "downstairs," which is probably code for "binned it." They are willing to sell you some at full price, and at this point you're so hungry you would have eaten straight out of the bin, anyway. Take your takeaway down Shaftesbury and through Soho to eat at the steps of a statue in the middle of Piccadilly Circus, with traffic swirling around you. (Hence, "circus.")
Finally, take the tube back to Earl's Court, content that your five-hour journey has gleaned three key pieces of information:
* Joke by email only. Actually, I probably won't even send it to you. Forget I mentioned it.
I watched "Doctor Who" here tonight, which was much cooler than watching it in the US. There, it's just a recycled show, like Weakest Link, America's Got Talent, and almost all of the reality shows. Here, it's fresh and original. That, or I was just excited to see it after a 6-week hiatus. (Remember, I moved out of my apartment May 1, and have been itinerant since.)
I also found my money had been deposited in my checking current account, which was quite a relief. (Since all I had was a hand-written receipt, I really had no recourse if there was a problem.) Interestingly, they appear to have used an exchange rate of 1.98, which is much better then their stated rate of 2.11. Of course, they threw in a 2% commission, but I still came away with £50 more than I expected.
Not coincidentally, that was exactly how much a one-month gym membership cost. I also haven't been to the gym in 6 weeks, and I have been eating out every night. But that's not the real reason I joined; the real reason is that in the personal ad it asked how often I exercised, and I didn't want to be a liar.
Speaking of which, I have inadvertently become very popular on a dating site. I had filled out my match.com profile but set it as "invisible" so nobody else could see it while I was fiddling with it. Yesterday on the tube I saw an ad for datingdirect.com, so I opened an account there and copied my profile from match.com. Now here's where it gets weird: After I set it up, I was told I had to join to make it invisible! This is a monthly fee and I don't want to pay to have people not find me! So of course I refused, and today I got 9 winks and 2 emails from other members. Now here's the catch-22: To read the emails I got because I wouldn't join, I have to join.
And finally, I went and saw a letting agent today. This is kind of the equivalent to a real estate agent for rentals--they have listings, but they also vet the applicant, then collect some sort of finder's fee. I went in just to learn the process, but they pressed me for a number, so I said £300 per week. They laughed at me. A lot. Then they said I could get something dodgy in South Kensington for £350 per week, but even if I was shot or killed, I was still responsible for the first six months.
Now I've complained a lot about the cost of living here, but that's because the exchange rate is so bad, which doesn't affect Brits in the slightest. So a sandwich that costs an outrageous $10 for me is the equivalent of $5 for a Brit. But £350 per week is £18,000/year in an area where the average income is £34,000 for males and £21,500. So an average working couple is paying a third of their income on housing, and that doesn't include utilities or property council tax. (And forget about living alone.)
By comparison, in the US the median household income is $48,000, while the average rental is $633 per month, or 16% of income. (And that includes utilities and property tax.) So as a percentage of income, Londoners spend more than twice the average US citizen. (And if you actually open those links, you'll find conflicting information, so I selected for worst-case scenario in order to make the numbers look more dramatic. So sue me.)
P.S. What the hell is a "wink"? Is that shorthand for "you're not worth a letter, but what the hell"? I just looked up someone and it said she has sent 425 winks. Now, I'm not sure why they would post that information in the first place, but to me it just looks promiscuous. Plus she's 3 and a half hours away. And she's only 32. This is just so wrong on so many levels. How did I get into this? Oh yeah, my friend from high school suggested it. Thanks, Kathy...
This blog would certainly be improved by photos, or at least less text, but I'm not doing anything photo-worthy. Unless you want a photo of me searching for a job, doing laundry, going to the grocery store, enjoying my bread and water, swapping out sim cards on my cell phone, yelling at the bank manager, practising making change, or just staring off into space in loneliness, desperation, and mental exhaustion--it all just isn't very interesting.
The only time I wished I had a camera with me, in fact, was when I went to Docklands--not because it was photogenic, but because it was so incongruous. Apparently the wharves in East London were so dilapidated that the city just levelled everything and started from scratch, creating this beautiful pocket of gleaming new skyscrapers right in the middle of what is clearly one of the worst areas in London. That they didn't even try to improve the surrounding area speaks of class warfare, and impending riots.
Naturally, that is where my first interview is on Tuesday.
I'm actually quite excited by the prospect, as the job description is exactly what I want to do. In fact, I incorporated the job description into my resume CV, to let other potential employers know exactly what I want to do. The only problem is, this is my first interview, so I know I'm going to seize up. I wish I'd had a couple of "throwaways," where I didn't want the job but just interviewed for practice, but no such luck.
In fact, except for one phone interview in San Francisco, my last job interview was in 1994. Ever since then, my jobs have all been through references. It's quite terrifying, really.
P.S. Completely irrelevant note--"pita bread" in the US is "khobez bread" in the UK. They have pitta bread here, but it's smaller, thicker, and you have to heat it (so it puffs up) before you slice it.
