Heathrow - in which I wondered whether my London experience was to end before I left the airport...
No matter how organised you are, there is always that moment of sheer terror when the immigration person with the stamp asks you a question which you answer and instead of stamping your passport, they start asking more questions. This is even harder when you have been having difficulty processing the really difficult questions on board the plane from Hong Kong, such as "would you like a snack?" to which I had to think for half a minute before I could formulate an answer in a language that resembled a standard language for communication.
The guy: "Why are you here?"
Me: "To study."
The guy: "Until when?"
Me: "Until December."
The guy: "Where's your letter?"
Me: (Thinking *#&$@!!!!!!) "What letter?"
The guy: "The one that says you are going to study here."
Me: "I didn't know I needed the letter. It's all there on the visa."
The guy: "Anyone can get a visa. Otherwise how do you prove you are going to study here?"
Me: (Did you ever try to get a freakin' visa, jump through all the hoops and get all the paperwork together? They're more uptight than you are!) As sweetly as utter exhaustion permits "I can print it out, if you can get me to a printer."
The guy: "We don't have time for that." (The he stamped my visa. Not that I'm complaining, but really, it didn't seem like it was fun for him to give me a hard time, so why do it?)
The rest of the day continued on a much more promising note. I actually managed to get my many bags and myself to JB's place near Regent's Park. The taxi driver was kind enough to put my very heavy bags by the front door and the rest kind of took care of itself.
In desperate need of coffee but realizing that it was now late afternoon, I wandered down the street towards Le Pain Quotidien, hoping for good hot chocolate. On the way, I stopped by a real estate agent's front window to see what was available in the area and voila! there was a one bedroom apartment. I had no idea where Devonshire Street was, but I thought I'd check. Like so many other things which have fallen into place for this particular venture, it turned out to be ridiculously easy - the flat was directly above the agent's offices (and about a 5-minute walk to the Cordon Bleu).
I know I said I could suck it up and stay in a studio for nine months, but the fates have conspired against such a plan - there wasn't much of a price difference between the studio flats and 1-bedroom places in the area, except that most of the other places were too far away or had something quite wrong with them (i.e. opening onto the end of a railway line). As absurd as it may sound, it seems that the perfect little apartment presented itself before I had been in London for more than three hours.
Deja vu
I also quickly stuck my head in at the Cordon Bleu. It turns out that Marylebone Lane doesn't go all the way through from Wigmore Street to Devonshire Street. It's also crooked - charming, but confusing if you are expecting a grid pattern to the streets (flashes of wandering for an hour last April in search of Bond Street to Picadilly, only to end up right where I had started, haunted me). Clearly Manhattan and the Sydney CBD (Central Business District, for your non-Sydneysiders) have spoiled me. Having to learn North/South is unnatural and should not be required in order to find one's way around a city.
In which I learned that I can't fake tech-speak...
And now for the complicated part: setting up a bank account and a mobile in the UK. If you don't know the difference between terminology, what's included on what plan, etc. etc. the whole process can be a bit overwhelming. Luckily the guys pointed me in the direction of a chain of stores named something like Carphone Warehouse (sorry guys, I really can't remember it) where a helpful fellow whose name I also can't remember got me set up with a mobile and mobile broadband. Of course this required some investigation when I eventually crashed my computer. I blame it on new software rather than user error...
Oh, by the way, the coffee at Le Pain Quotidien is drinkable.
A vacation day in London...
This morning started a little later than yesterday - I woke up at 5am instead of at 3:30. There was a mad dash to get ready for class - there's a dance studio nearby! I thought I was so organised, but then I couldn't find my tights, then my shoes, then my hairpins. Boots sells hairpins (they're not quite big enough, but when you're desperate...) As much as I wanted to stay for another class, on this occasion discretion was most definitely the better part of valour.
In which I discover that time has disappeared at an alarming rate
So it is now Sunday night and I forgot that a couple of days have passed since I last updated this blog...so, high points of the last few days, because I am tired and afraid that it will take me 2 hours to write 3 sentences.
Friday night - VT's birthday drinks at Players - some club that is underground in SoHo. SoHo, apparently, does not stand for anything in London. Except for the cool part of town - kind of like in Hong Kong. I have decided that any place that is SoHo must be cool, regardless of where it is.
Went to Swan Lake at the Royal Opera House yesterday. The Royal Ballet was amazing and I was lucky enough to attend with another person who appreciates ballet, one of ACP's work colleagues. NB knew enough that we could exchange glances of appreciation when something particularly spectacular happened on stage. The amount of skill and strength it must have taken to make it look that effortless defies words, so I won't try.
Then Vietnamese dinner by Leicester Square and Liam Neeson (Unknown) at the movie theatres. Fun was had by all and we got to give reviews to the others who hadn't seen it yet.
Breakfast this morning in SoHo - some of JB's flatmates had a mission in mind but the place was packed so we ended up at a place with a French sounding name and what appeared to be Mediterranean influenced food. Good coffee (first good cup in London!) and pretty yummy food - eggs cooked with butter and Turkish sausages. The sausages were beef, not pork (I checked) but tasted a lot like chorizo. I could have that with rice and not miss Portuguese sausages, eggs and rice at home too much...although it did mean that I missed the Russian ballet class which kicked my butt the other day. Used it as opportunity to try a different ballet class - learning experience, but I won't be taking class with this particular teacher again.
Spent afternoon looking at printers because have started reviewing reading lists - the updated one is different from the one in January. I know they said they were reviewing the material, but come on! Have realised that I will have to compare all of my readings and that I could have saved myself the weight of schelpping 5 weeks' worth of readings with me. Also that an extra unit has been added to the course. Have decided that the early bird not only doesn't get the worm, it gets pissed off that it got up early at all. I could have packed sweaters! So much for doing things early.
Made a very large salad for dinner. It didn't start out that way, it just ended up being really big once I got the couple leaves of lettuce, other veggies, cheese and chicken added to it. I think I ate enough to feed 50 rabbits. At least. Also that the veggies from Waitrose are delicious. Didn't make it to the markets today, so will try for later in the week. For someone who has nothing pressing to do, am very busy...
Have determined that tomorrow I will sign the lease for the flat and hope that my bank will accept instructions to wire funds from the US to the UK when I tell them the amount in British pounds because I don't know the exchange rate. Realise that they may tell me they can't do that and then will have to make alternate arrangements with letting agents. Note to self: must ensure that the lease document allows for this - because it doesn't have anything in it yet about the funds except that they must be paid in advance...
Until next time!
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