Looking forward

I've been in London for a year now, and am starting to see some of the annual events come around again--Wimbledon, Kenwood House concerts, the Shoreditch festival, Hyde Park Calling, BBC Proms, etc.--but I realized I don't have anything to look forward to.

That is, when I was in downtown Los Angeles for a year, there were many things I looked forward to -- the farmers' market on Friday, the downtown art walk on the second Thursday, Cal Plaza in the summer. If I took the subway in the evening -- to see a movie or play on the west side -- I treated myself to a chile relleno burrito and agua de jamaica at Ye Olde Taco House; if I went to Union Station, I stopped at Olvera Street for taquitos de papa. I spent many hours at Disney Hall, the Ahmanson Theater, and McCabe's guitar shop.

I've done so many things in London, but there's no routine, no structure, no rhythm to my life here. There's not even anything on television that I look forward to. (I do watch the Daily Show just to keep up on American politics.) I think part of the problem is the weather--life is more compressed in LA, whereas here everything is tied to the seasons--and part of the problem is choice; there is just so much more to do in London. But more than either of those, I think the problem is I've been working so hard to 'experience' London, I really haven't spent any time 'living' in London.

These emails stopped being a travelogue long ago, focusing on my own issues and using London only as a backdrop, a bit part in a bit play. So to that end, I think I should stop writing for a little while, and focus my energies on enjoying the terribly brief summer here. And who knows, when the trees are bare, the days are six hours long, I'm wearing five layers and still freezing, and all anyone talks about is taking a holiday to Mauritius to see the sun, maybe I'll have something new to say. (And I will definitely be looking forward to the spring lambs and the bluebells.)

In the meantime, I'm still available for private emails, suggestions, jokes, etc. You can even reach me via a US number -- (678) 389-9123. I'll be back in California in September, though I don't know if I'll have time to see anyone. And if you're going to be in London, you're welcome to crash at my flat.

Have a great summer!

Citizen of the world

I knew I was ignorant, but this is embarrassing: Given a blank map, I could only identify 64 countries, out of 194! Plus I didn't know Greenland was part of Denmark, I thought Bangladesh and Bahrain were cities, and I thought Qatar was an airline. (In my defense, I did overlook a few that I should have gotten, such as Finland, Lebanon, Kuwait, Ethiopia, Indonesia, Nepal, and the Philippines. And yes, I know I mis-label Malaysia and Swaziland, but I was close.)
If I'm going to be a world citizen, I need to do some more studying. So I'm setting myself a goal that this time next month, I should be able to identify twice as many. Hopefully this will go better than my Italian studies.
If you want to take your own test, get a blank map here. (If you want to cheat, you can get a list of countries here. Answers are here.)

P.S. Hopefully I won't cause an international incident if I recognize Taiwan as well.

Anniversary

It was with no small amount of irony that I disembarked from a British Airways flight this morning, exactly one year to the day after I moved here. The difference, of course, was that now I had a home, a job, friends, and Jessica. I didn't feel stressed or confused, and I wasn't lugging everything I owned in three large suitcases. I just had a small carry-on after spending the weekend with my aunt and uncle in Georgia.

Looking through my diary from a year ago, my first month is filled with scintillating entries such as: Buy voltage converter, unlock cell phone, and open bank account. There was nothing romantic, hopeful, or even whimsical. (There was one entry that read, “Explore Notting Hill/Camden,” but even that was just a practical task in search of permanent housing.) Reading it, one would think I moved here because I was bored.

But the reality is that I came here to explore, to learn, and to have fun. I could have stayed in Los Angeles and been comfortable and successful, but that wasn't enough. I wanted to stretch myself, and that is exactly what I've done. I had a lot of lessons to learn, but now that I've achieved the basics, I feel like I can finally get started. The UK is a very small place, but the whole world is practically within my grasp. I just need to stretch a little more.

And so, getting off the plane this morning, I thought to myself: It's good to be home.

The high cost of failure

I've said it before, and I'll say it again: My life is blessed. It may not be ideal, of course, but everything always seems to work out for the best. For example, I did not want to commit to an apartment until I found a job (because I was worried about a long commute), but just after I signed a lease, I found a job that lets me work from home. I'd also stopped looking for a "good" job, and was willing to take any job, when I found this practically ideal job. But the most incredible thing of all is that just last month, I learned that to renew my UK work permit next May, I would need to prove my income for the previous 12 months. That meant I needed to be employed May 1 or I was going to get booted out of the UK next year. I started this job April 27.

But even though these things work out, that doesn't mean they are easy, and sometimes they leave scars. A year ago, I was so sure of myself I was willing to change continents, alone and unemployed. I met an amazing woman, experienced a whole new city, and really learned a whole new way of life. I felt invincible, my life was wide open, and everything seemed possible.

Today, though, despite achieving more than I'd hoped for, I feel much smaller. The possibilities have closed in, and I am feeling all my years, my fears, and my failures. I think the problem is, I moved to England to find myself, and I don't like what I found.

But the reality is that I'm still learning, and still growing. Off the top of my head, I can count a dozen experiences I would have never even known about had I not moved here and met Jessica, including bluebells (photo attached). Perhaps the real problem is that I'm looking at myself through a new context -- moving from a small pond to a big pond, as it were, and finding I'm not as big a fish as I'd imagined.

11 months

I left my job in LA on 24 May, and will start my new job on 28 April. In 11 months I could have written a book, travelled the world, lost 30 pounds, learned to play the guitar, gotten a teaching certification, learned Italian, taken an art class, given 4 pints of blood, started my own business, or taken a minimum wage job and earned £10,000. Instead, I spent at least 1,000 hours looking for a job.

When I first arrived in London, I was confident I'd find a job quickly, so I posted my CV on the job boards and waited for recruiters to call. And call they did--I have seven interviews in the first two months, but I was so cocky that I was being very selective, and they could tell. (Feedback from one of my interviews was that I did not seem to be the type of person who would "pitch in and contribute as needed.") Then in August the credit crunch hit and I didn't get a single phone call the entire month. I re-evaluated my options, and considered taking a minimum wage job, but decided I would be better off working full-time finding a programming position. Thus began the process that, five months later, would result in severe depression and a near breakdown.

Of course, at the time, I thought the credit crunch was a blip on the financial radar, not the start of a global depression. So each morning would begin with perusing the job boards -- of which there are many -- and applying to various openings. (In the beginning, I was quite selective, but near the end I was applying to just about everything, with equal results.) In six hours I could go through a hundred listings, of which five might be appropriate, and I was lucky if one person called me back. Usually I never heard back from anyone. I had only six interviews over the next seven months, and most of those were not a result of my applying to positions, but of recruiters finding my CV online. Occasionally, friends would give me contacts in London, only to find their company was in the process of layoffs, or they had just been laid off themselves. (This actually happened five times, and I was afraid to call anyone else.)

It was frustrating, depressing, degrading, and although I kept telling myself it wasn't my fault, the constant clutch of failure was oppressive and inescapable. If I took any time off to do something fun, I criticized myself for not working harder on finding a job. Much of the frustration, of course, was the amorphous nature of the task: Although the goal was clear enough, I had no idea what steps, or timing, or circumstances were necessary. As I result, I probably worked harder finding a job than I've ever worked at a job. (And it was unpaid.)

In February, I got a call from the most annoying recruiter I've ever met. While I appreciated his diligence -- which was in marked contrast to most of the recuiters I'd dealt with -- he would call me two or three times a day just to let me know he had no updates. That first call, however, while on a tube to Ruislip to check out a flat, he told me about a small consulting firm building database systems for utility companies (which weren't affected by the depression). He set up a two-hour phone interview with the company just before I left for Israel.

Of course, in Israel I had my little melt-down, and upon returning to the UK I recognized I could not continue as I had been. I stopped looking for a programming job and first focused on finding a place to live, then started looking for a retail job. Of course, if I thought being rejected from a highly-paid, highly-skilled position was bad, you can imagine my horror to find I wasn't even qualified for unskilled labor! I shouldn't have been surprised -- unemployment was at a 20-year high, and in some areas there were 30 people for every open position -- but it was still rough. It was an employers market and they were being very picky, looking for people with previous retail experience, or their own car, or a full driver's license (I still only have my learner's permit). I couldn't be a cashier, a waiter, a mini-cab driver, a cook, a security guard, a meter maid, or a pizza delivery driver!

Then, in an unrelated (and unexpected) turn of events, the owner of the B&B I had stayed at fired the front office clerk and offered me his job! I eagerly accepted the offer -- after all, I had no prospects other than this one company I talked to six weeks ago, and even though I got daily calls from this annoying recruiter, he didn't have any updates. I was scheduled to start 7 May.

The consulting company finally called me in for a face-to-face interview with the three directors who started the company. It turned out the company was only 8 people, and they were scattered across the UK and did most of their work from home, which was why it took them so long to schedule the interview. I was expecting a decision after the interview, but instead they asked me back for a third interview, which they couldn't schedule for another week.

By now I'd spent six hours interviewing with them, and about 22 hours talking to the recruiter, who was driving me insane. (I tried not taking his calls -- sending them straight to voicemail -- but then I just got 10 voicemails, plus a couple of texts, asking me to call him back.) When they finally offered me the position, I took it with no negotiation whatsoever. The salary is fine, and I certainly can't complain about the commute since I'll be working from home 3-4 days per week. I don't know about the other benefits, but I get 20 vacation days per year plus 10 bank holidays.

Oh, and the company name is "datb," which actually stands for "Day At The Beach." You can check out their website at datb.com, although if you can understand it then you're probably qualified to work there. (It begins with, "datb offers a real alternative to the business constraints imposed by off-the-shelf packages and lengthy, expensive and risk-laden bespoke development.")

And as for the B&B, the owner wasn't surprised -- she said six months ago that as soon as she offered me a job, that's when I'd find work. It turns out she was right.

P.S. Thanks again for everyone's support and encouragement through this ordeal, especially to my similarly-situated friends who commiserated with me. (See? There is hope!) Many thanks to Luci at the Merlyn Court B&B, who always looked out for me, and of course my eternal gratitude to Jessica, who has dealt with so much in such a short period, and believed in me the entire time. It is with no small amount of irony that I got the job on her birthday!

I am...

employed.

4 more days...

A week ago I was wheeling a TV around town in a suitcase, so it shouldn't surprise you to learn that the next day I carried a barbecue two miles across town.
It looked shorter on the map.
The guy who gave it to me was moving back to Texas, and he gave me very specific instructions on how to smoke meats and grill steaks. I just let him talk, figuring if he knew I was vegetarian, he wouldn't let me have the barbecue. But I've already got a bag of charcoal and I'll be grilling asparagus, corn, veggie kabobs, and mangoes on my little patio this summer. :-)
What else have I done this week:

• I planted four tomato plants that I got from a neighbor. I am also going to plant some ivy in large pots (to try and cover the wooden fence), a few herbs, and maybe a deck chair. (The fence isn't strong enough for a hammock.)
  
• I stained and varnished the TV stand as Jessica suggested, and it now looks like a piece of furniture instead of Ikea junk.
  
• I went to a Passover dinner (Seder) with another 20 or so of Jessica's family. (This is on top of the 40 I met in Israel.) It was like Thanksgiving except with some reading, a few rituals, and followed by singing (mostly in Hebrew, plus Bohemian Rhapsody).
  
• On Good Friday I took Jessica to hear "Messiah" at the Royal Albert Hall. (Interestingly, it's tradition here to stand during the "Hallelujah Chorus," apparently started by King George II.)
  
• I watched the "The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas," which was just unflinching in its story of the holocaust. Highly recommended.
  
• I went to three yoga classes. (I planned on going to six, but I caught a cold and was just miserable for several days. Some of the classes are not much more than "stretching for seniors," but a few are quite challenging.)
  
• I bought tickets to see Chris Barber's jazz band next month. My uncle told me how he had invited the band back to his house after a gig one night, some 50 years ago, so I googled them and found they were still touring! (I also planned to see Dave Brubeck at the Barbican in June, but unfortunately he withdrew for health reasons.)

And a few things coming up:

• I am (hopefully) going to hook up with a new tennis partner next Sunday. (My old tennis partner got a job. How rude was that?)
  
• I should recieve my bike lock tomorrow, so I can go riding. (And you do want to watch this video all the way to the end.)
  
• I should also get my ZipCar membership card, so I can go driving again. (I'd looked them up when I first got here--because I'd been a member in Los Angeles--but they wanted £50 to join! Now you can join for £25 and get £25 in driving credit, so its effectively free.)
  
• I was going to see Lord of the Rings with live musical accompaniment (by the London Philharmonic Orchestra!) at Royal Albert Hall, but it's standing room only and the movie is 3 hours long.
  
• I'm getting cable TV + broadband in 4 days. In 5 days I'll be complaining there's nothing on TV.
  
• The British Film Institute is doing a James Bond program on IMAX, including an all-nighter with 4 movies starting at 11:30pm. (It costs £26, too rich for my blood-shot eyes.)
  
• Saturday is the "Incredible Veggie Show" and Sunday is Shakespeare's 444th birthday.
  
• I'm having lunch with Sue, whose flat I rented while she was in Africa. (Apparently she sold the flat just after I moved out!)
  
• Jessica's birthday is also coming up, and in spite of my fear of heights I've offered to take her to Go Ape.
  
• I have an interview tomorrow with a small consulting firm. Wish me luck.

Hope everyone had a good Easter. (And in case you ever wondered, Easter is the first Sunday at least 13 days after the first new moon after the vernal equinox, and it has absolutely everything to do with Passover.)

On your bike

Getting a bicycle has been on my to-do list since I arrived in London, but I put it off for various reasons--mostly because I wanted a folding bike which cost £600. This morning, as part of my "putting down roots" campaign, I finally picked up a used mountain bike just to ride around the bicycle trails in Ealing park. (Only an idiot would ride on London streets.)

Except, to get the bike home, I had to ride on London streets. Worse, I had to go straight to the gym for a yoga class, so I had my yoga mat and workout clothes in a bag slung over my shoulder. And I haven't ridden a bicycle in three years. Needless to say, it may have been the scariest 20 minutes of my life, and my yoga mat fell out three times, unrolling itself into the middle of the street each time. Did I mention the yoga mat is bright purple? When I bought it (in LA) the gym lady assured me it wouldn't stand out at all. Well, it stood out alright. I finally lashed it onto my back like a sword; I'm sure the locals thought gay liberation had finally come to Ealing.

Then I realized I would need a bicycle lock when I got to the gym. I could have stopped at a store and gotten a cheap lock, but what do you do with your bike when you're buying a bicycle lock? It would be embarrassing to have owned a bike less than an hour before it was stolen...twice. (The first time I was only 12, and I'd like to think I am a little smarter now.) But it didn't matter because I had a brilliant idea: I could use the lock I had for my laptop! Now, if you're familiar with computer locks, you'll immediately recognize the fallacy in this plan, but it wasn't until I was at the gym did I realize that the computer cable just slips through a loop and then plugs into the laptop. With nothing to plug into, effectively all I was doing was tying the cable around the bike like a piece of rope, and hoping a thief didn't notice. But again, it didn't matter because by this time I was too late to join the class, so I just came home. (I ended up ordering a lock over the Internet which cost as much as the bike itself! However, London has a very high theft rate, so a cheap lock is just an invitation to steal, and I figure the inconvenience of losing my bike while away from home would be much worse than just the financial loss.)

In the afternoon, I went to a "drop-in" tennis class at the park, except I was the only one who dropped in. I asked someone and he told me they hadn't done that in two years, and I must have been looking at an old web site. (I was.) He said they'll have classes on Friday if he can get at least four people signed up, but including me I think he only had two people, so I'm not holding my breath. There's another tennis school nearby that has drill sessions on Sunday, but they are expensive (£12 for non-members!) so I'm thinking about going there once just to see if I can find someone who will play me on the free courts.

So that was the normal part of my day.

I mentioned in my last email that getting broadband + phone line + cable TV was cheaper than broadband by itself, but neither would do me much good because I didn't have a phone or TV. I found a cheap, second hand TV on gumtree (the UK equivalent to craigslist) that was just a short bus ride away. Of course it wasn't a flatscreen, but it was only 21" and I figured I could carry it to/from the bus. However, no doubt because I haven't been to the gym in two months, I could barely lift it. The seller offered me a large rolling suitcase that he was getting rid of, which he taped shut, tied off with a yellow LAN cable, and then wrapped two wire coat hangers around. It looked like something out of Sanford and Son, but it worked, and I rolled the TV a mile back to my place. (See attached photo.)

The TV is still in the suitcase, however, as Jessica suggested I stain the TV stand a darker color. I'm also going to see if I can string up a hammock in my little patio space.

P.S. "On your bike" is the British equivalent of "get lost" or "take a hike."

Comfort food

My brother was in LA this week, taking his kids to some of the places our dad took us. You have to understand two things about my dad, though: He didn't have any money, and he loved to drive.  As a result, we used to go all over for cheap food..  Of course, this is now comfort food to me, even as I would never go back to most of these places.

 

(Before it got trendy, when it was attached to a bowling alley)

Of course, there were many places that I don't even remember the name, and could never hope to find pictures of.  He kept a large crock pot in the car, and would often pick up egg drop soup on his way home.  Near his work was a Mexican stand that made the best taquitos.  And near church was a home improvement store that we would invariably stop at every Sunday, and the only thing that made it tolerable was the hot dog stand outside.  I can remember waiting in the car, listening to Chuck Cecil on KFI playing "The Swinging Years."  I hated it then, but of course I love it now.  (And amazingly, 30 years on, Chuck Cecil is still at it.)

My dad also loved The Magic Cork in Bellflower, which was a 90 mile round-trip from our house, but the food was incredibly cheap, and quite good. (I remember a sign on the table that said, "Our steaks have gristle.") He would also drive to Redondo Beach Pier for a $10 lobster dinner that my brother and I would share, and he introduced me to shawarmas, which I thought were the greatest food on earth.

Of course, there were some places my parents liked that I was not a fan of...

I was never a fan of Tommy's or In-n-Out. The Pantry, downtown, is also disgusting. I guess if I have any regrets, it's not visiting Roscoe's Chicken 'N Waffles before I went vegetarian, as that place is legendary.

Ironically, Philippes is where I went vegetarian, back in 2002 or so.  I had (accidentally on purpose) not eaten meat in about six months, but had no intention of going vegetarian, and was quite looking forward to a lamb sandwich covered in mustard.  One bite, though, and I realized I no longer had any interest in meat, and haven't touched it since.

Thanks to "LA Time Machine" for several of these photos, and lots of memories.

Day One

I have to say, I did an amazing job clearing out the refrigerator and pantry before leaving Brentford. Granted, I ate some very...unexpected...combinations of food during my final week, but I threw out very little, and I only took with me some soba noodles, two packets of instant oatmeal, a bottle of sherry, some ketchup and bbq sauce, and half a packet of fajita spices. These stayed packed while at Jessica's and so arrived at my new flat, where they practically filled the available cupboard space. (Did I mention the place was small?)

Today, I took an inventory of everything I needed for the flat. Now, bear in mind that I was essentially housesitting in Brentford, so it was fully stocked with dishes, cutlery, utensils, spices, etc. I only bought a few things to complement what I had; now all I had were those few things. So I had a rice cooker, but no pots. I had a mixer, but no bowls. I had an apple corer, but no peeler. You get the idea.

I took my (rather long) list down to the Robert Dyas store, which bills itself as an "ironmonger," but it's more like a Big Lots in that they have a bizarre selection of household goods, from hammers to tupperware. I bought some ice cube trays, a soap dish, and a screwdriver. (I can't imagine anyone who knows me being surprised that, of all the things I needed, these are the things I bought.) I also added a number of things to my list, such as a water filter, a colander, a cheese grater, a can opener, a kitchen timer, a kitchen scale, a toilet brush, coat hooks, candles, an hibachi grill, a bird feeder, and a printer/scanner. (I told you they had a bizarre selection.) However, I didn't buy any of these until I could do some price/quality comparisons.

I also got my utilities in order. The landlord took care of water and council tax (similar to property tax), and gas and electric just took a phone call. Internet, on the other hand, took six hours, cost £10 in cell phone charges, and I ended up doing exactly what the landlord suggested I do, which was ordering phone service from the local cable company.

The thing is, I didn't want a phone or a TV. I just wanted Internet, because nowadays you can make phone calls and watch TV over the Internet. I checked the local cable company--Virgin Media--and they charge £20 per month for Internet, or £25/month for phone, TV, and Internet, plus a £50 credit if you order all three. In other words, a phone and TV would only cost £2/month more, so it seemed silly not to take them. The only thing I didn't like was that Virgin required a 12-month contract, and I don't know that I'll be in this flat more than six months.

My other option was DSL, which was cheaper -- about £18/month -- but then I had to get a phone line. I called British Telecom (BT) and they said they could activate the phone line "within 4 weeks" and it would either be free or £122, but they couldn't tell me which until I placed the order. Then they told me they required a 12-month commitment as well. I also looked at a dozen DSL providers; O2 was the cheapest, but to get the lowest rate I would have to switch my mobile!

So cable was looking pretty good--it was £5/month more than DSL but twice as fast, included TV, I only had to deal with one company, and I'd probably get it sooner. But the real death knell for DSL came when Jessica pointed out the telephone jack: it was by a window, three feet off the ground, next to the dining table. There wasn't even an electrical outlet nearby, so I'd have to run a wire across the entire room, and hide the router behind a chest of drawers. The cable, on the other hand, was conveniently located, so I called Virgin and signed up. Even better, the rep not only gave me the £50 credit, but also gave Jessica a £60 credit for referring me.

My final goal was to go to the gym, since I haven't been in two months, but it was almost 7pm before I packed my gear and headed off. Then I realized I didn't bring any water, so I popped into the market on the way. Then I realized I was starving--I only had 2 bagels and a biscuit all day--but they didn't have anything that was appetising, and I thought eating a candy bar before going to the gym was self-defeating. Then I saw flour tortillas, and I remembered the half packet of fajita mix in the cupboard, and a little light bulb went on in my head and I bought a bell pepper, onion, and a big mushroom. Then I realized a) I was still starving, and b) what the hell was I going to do with this stuff at the gym? So I went home.

I mentioned in my last email that there were two markets on Pitshanger Lane, but I didn't mention they were both the same market. It's called "The Co-operative" and it's just a chain, but it's kind of weird having two on the same street, one block apart. This evening, though, it was very convenient because I realized I forgot cooking oil, so I popped inti the other one. When I got home, I also remembered I didn't have a knife, a pan, or a spatula. Instead, I sliced the vegetables with a plastic knife, cooked them in a pot Jessica had loaned me to boil water, and used a potato masher as a spatula. I also used the serrated edge of the cake server to open the pack of tortillas (scissors are on the list) and ate off a paper plate.

Oh, and did I mention the sofa was in the kitchen? The landlord was supposed to clean the carpet before I moved in, but naturally that didn't happen. He assured me it would be done today, so this morning I moved everything out of the living room, pushing the sofa into the kitchen. Naturally, he called in the afternoon and said it would be the next day, but it was too much effort to move the sofa back, so I just cooked around it.

Well, I think that's enough adventures for one day. Tomorrow I will pick up the rest of my belongings which I left at the hotel, including my camera bag, tennis racket, and all of my clothes hangers. (Why I didn't bring those with the clothes is beyond me; right now my clothes are literally stacked in the bottom of the closet.)

P.S. Here is a photo from Wadi Rum. From left: Martin, Anita, Gerald, Marcelle, Jessica, Ella, me, Yael, and Simon. (There was another photo of us all doing the high kick.)