Things I DO understand and things I DON'T understand here...

Now, of course I'm still working hard to find a job. It's been interesting, to say the least. Sigh. However, one has to take some time out to enjoy this fabulous city and all it has to offer...just a bit...From interviewing to my wanderings around the city, I'm learning that there are things I get...and not so much.

I went out for a GNO (that's Girls' Night Out) with KerryAnne and Mel-Jen. (Her name is Mel, but she is absolutely-creepily-spookily the same as Jen of Ben-and-Jen fame, that I've renamed her Mel-Jen. They have the same mannerisms, behaviours and, although I know full-well that Mel-Jen has a posh English accent and Jen does not, they speak the same way, same tone or something. It's really odd...)

Anywho, back to the story. Mel-Jen suggests we meet down at Suburban in Wimbledon, a simple ten-minute bus ride from my 'hood, which is having "2 4 1" drinks on this particular GNO night. Rock on. Now...while I'm well-versed on cocktail-speak, I figured 2 4 1 (and yes, that's how they write it) drinks would mean that if you order one, it's just half-priced. Um...no. That means, in fact, that if you order a martini, they give you two. Yikes. We started out well enough, but I think each of us had a tiny bit too much by the end of the evening. Whew. Mental note: find a drink that we all like and actually engage properly in 2 4 1. Sigh. Chalk up 1: Something I didn't know.

Moving on...Steve Mafia and I went out on Friday evening. I had suggested we go down to a Halloween-themed Asylum Hill, which sounded nice and spooky (my fave!). He accepted and, in response, noted that it would take us 32 minutes on the train, 9 minutes to walk, leaving 4 minutes to purchase our tickets. Cool-o. Um...until we realized that neither of us knew where we were going. With such accurate and precise times given, I was sure that he had mapped out the way. And he thought that since it was my idea, I had mapped out the way. No worries, we figured, we'll just pop into a pub or something. He led me down to Hoxton Square, and we had a happy drink (or two) at Apprentice. It was super-cute, in a funky little area of London. I was shocked at one of the sights, however: There, on the corner of this picturesque little square was an odd triangular object. Steve explained to me that it was where men could urinate. "Like, right here on the street?!" I asked incredulously. I had to snap a picture (whilst he pretended not to know me). Thank goodness that no one was using it at the time. Crikey. Number 2: Another thing I didn't know.

After our drinks, we tubed it on back to the 'hood. As we went up the escalator, we heard a familiar voice. There was Tree (short for Trina, but not Katrina, thank you!), saying hi. (As a side note, I'm not sure if that's how she spells it, but it can hardly be spelled "Tri"...that would be weird...hehe) Ah, finally: something I do know: seeing familiar faces. Yay!

Tree had just returned from seeing Priscilla, Queen of the Desert at the theatre. Upon leaving the tube station, we hopped over to the Tup for a quick drink together. Good times...

Steve Mafia took Star and I to Richmond on Sunday for a pleasant morning walk through the park. This place is huge -- and incredibly beautiful. There were herds of deer (No, Star, you can't chase them! It's illegal!) that seemed hardly to even care about the people and puppies wandering around them. The views were amazing, and the whole place was well...just so natural. I know, I know, that sounds ridiculous, it being a park and all. But it's one of those parks where they allow ferns and brush to grow wild...and it adds to the fabulousness of the place. I'm proud to report that Star handled herself very well, running off the leash, and having a field day sniffing wood. I, myself, didn't realize that wooden logs were so astounding, but...Meh. I noted that I'd wished Star would be that interested in a stick and would play a game of fetch. "She wouldn't?" asked Steve.
"Nah, I think she'd just look at me like I was an idiot. I've always wanted to get a ChuckIt for her, but I don't think she'd play along."
Steve, mimicking Star's would-be reaction: "'Why'd you throw that away? You're going to have to go get that, you know!'" Hehe...Good times.
One of the more interesting sights in the park was a parade of folks on horseback dressed in costume. You may notice Scooby Doo riding the horse in the pic. There's something awfully funny to me about a dog riding a horse, and I can't quite put my finger on why...Number 3: Something I do get - wandering around on a beautiful autumn morning through an amazing, fab park. (Not like anyone would actually believe that, but really...it's true...)

Let's keep on the roll of things I do get and move on to my Monday, where I had a meeting with a recruiter. Julian texted and invited me to meet him for lunch afterward near Holborn, where we could do a bit of wandering around one of my favorite areas of London, Lincoln's Inn Field, where barristers (not to be confused with baristas) live and work in buildings that seem so proper English. I love it.

I agreed and set out to walk up there from my appointment to Holborn, checking my A-Zed every few blocks to ensure that I was on track. I am horrible with maps. I think I don't have that section of my brain...or perhaps I lost the brain cells with one too many pub visits...I don't know.

In any case, as I wandered past Blackfriars, I came to a corner with a building that was boarded up on the ground floor. Looking up to get a better check of the pretty windows on the second floor (that's the third floor to us Yanks, of course), I giggled: There was spray paint on the windows, a la the movie Sid and Nancy, where Sid Vicious comes into the London flat and starts spray painting anarchy signs on the walls. Yup -- this building must've housed Sid the Squatter, too. In one window was written "No war," in the other, how classic: an anarchy symbol...Made me chuckle. I'm not sure if that falls into the category of what I do understand (i.e. I've seen the movie) or what I don't understand (i.e. I'm not pro-anarchy), but meh...

Last for now is another one of those terms that I absolutely missed on first glance...I was at my beloved Tup, enjoying the great back patio for which it's famous (ok, near famous?) and saw two signs on one side of the patio: One with "Barbie scrum" (scrum is a rugby term, of course) and the other with "Party and Barbie zones - no charge." What the..? I hear the word Barbie and automatically think of the doll. And that just didn't really make sense to me. A party and Barbie zone? Is that an area for wild blondes? Added to that was the sign on the opposite side of the patio, "Barbie zone hooker," which truly added creepy images to my mind. No, no, Steve Mafia had to explain..."It's barbie, as in barbeque," he corrected. Oh. Whew. I was near wondering what type of anarchistic place I'd moved to! Winks.

Yeah, it's really not...I absolutely love this place, and truly feel as though I made the right decision moving here and trying this life! Yay! Now off to watch the Arsenal game...

Getting a lay of the land...but still no Halloween here...

Now being in Londres for a few weeks, I'm starting to find my way around, especially within relation to my immediate lil' 'hood, Colliers Wood, where I'm even making friends with the local shop owners. I think I made a really great decision living in this area, though to be honest, I don't even know how it came about. I suspect it started during a conversation with Julian about living "south of the river" and then moved to the option of Wimbledon and the surrounding areas within the SW19 post code, as I'd found on RightMove. Or maybe I just got desperate and took the first place I could after the one flat deal fell through last minute and I started to freak out that Star and I would be homeless wandering around Piccadilly.

In any case, Colliers Wood is a relatively unknown little pocket in South West London. One can name Tooting (just slightly north) or Wimbledon (just slightly west) as landmarks, but say Colliers Wood and you're likely to get a tilted-head, confused look, akin to Star when I pose philosophical questions to her.

There is a nice park, Wandle, just a few blocks from my flat, where dogs are allowed off the leash to run around at will. Star and I enjoy a short, leisurely walk behind the high street to get there, smiling at the quaint little row houses that line the back streets. (Well, I smile. Mainly, she just sniffs.)

While I wasn't sure how our little StarBar was going to do with this off-the-leash bit, I gave her the opportunity to try. Perhaps it's best for me not to note here that it was when I was a bit perturbed with her having ripped open the garbage all over the kitchen. "Go! Find another home, then!" I said, as I took off her leash. She looked at me quizzically (yes, tipped head), as she's never known such freedom before. A few tentative sniffs and then she was off, running around, returning back every few seconds, and sitting in front of me awaiting a head-scratch in approval.
Since then, Star has proven herself worthy of the free-run-of-the-park...and I love it. She prances and chases squirrels, all of the while not (thank goodness!) attempting to bite children. I think this is what has finally made her happy to move here.

That said, I was again none too pleased when last night she decided to jump into the river Wandle whilst playing tag with a dalmatian. Sigh. Wet, stinky dog = not fun.

I'm also loving the local pub, The Colliers Tup. It's very reminiscent of my ol' Al Mike's or even my Selwyn Pub of yesteryear. Akin to Cheers, it's a place to meet up prior to catching the tube downtown (or to Central London...whatever) or just to unwind with a couple of drinks and laugh-y conversation, where you're guaranteed to always find a smiling, familiar face, both in its staff and patrons. Love it.

Trivia question of the day: Without clicking on the 'net, what in the heck is a "tup"? Yeah, it's pretty clear from the sign. I took a survey, however, and only one of the group answered confidently. Who knew? I then learned yet another English word. This whole vocabulary change has been fun..."I don't know her from a bar of soap" was one expression used the other night. And words like "minging" (adj. "dirty") and "nick" (v. "to steal") are now starting to enter my personal lexicon...mainly 'cos I just think they sound cool.

For example, I received a ring from my downstairs buzzer on Wednesday morning. When I asked who it was, I was told, "Royal Mail for delivery." Indeed! I, little ol' Andrea, was receiving Royal Mail? How absolutely fabulous and regal I felt...

I flew down the three flights, opened the door and signed for a package from the parents. Realizing the importance of the upcoming Halloween holiday, Mom and Dad sent me the most fun of care packages, filled with candy, a spooky electric ghost candle that glows, and some other treats. Hooray! A pic is to the left, of course, where one will clearly notice that Mom has yet again won another Peeps battle. Grr...

Wait, Mom. Just you wait. I'm certain they have an English equivalent to Peeps and I will have Her Majesty's Service delivery them personally to you across the pond! (winks)

Internet access? Check! (Finally...)

I'm feelin' pretty good about this moving stuff now...almost.

I finally (!) have Internet access in my flat as of yesterday. I can't tell you how good of a feeling it is to be plugged in again to modern society. While admittedly, it was pretty awesome to work at the British Libary, the only place I found with free wi-fi in London (save for Starbucks, which I personally boycott), it was getting pricey taking the tube each day. The other bummer is that I only found out about the wireless resource last week. Sigh.
Nonetheless, the library is absolutely huge, with children's field trips wondering through on an hourly basis. Zagat calls it "a 'bibliophile's dream' which is one of the capital's 'hidden gems' and therefore 'not particularly busy.'" It's true, too. Not-exactly-hidden next to cool-o King's Cross/St. Pancras (which rises like Sleeping Beauty's castle in the background), on the day I snapped this pic, the weather was absolutely gorgeous, with a Carolina blue sky, yet surprisingly, the courtyard wasn't overflowing with businesspeople eating lunch in the sunshine.
The second floor provides a wide pathway lined with chairs for folks to power up laptops and work away. Dimly lit and quiet with a three-floor wall of books across, it's a perfect refuge in which to send off CVs and search for employment, which is my job only right now. Sigh...

Of course, even with the search for work, one must enjoy the sights of this amazing city. On Friday, Steve and I trekked downtown (which is a word that does not exist in his vernacular for Central London -- "it's just 'town,'" he told me, rolling his eyes). While we were not to step foot in Leicester Square, for fear that he'd turn to stone being with all of those (a-hem!) tourists, we did take a stop at two of my favorite city places, first stopping at Gordon's Wine Bar. I love this place. It's cave-like, offers some of the best wines ev-ah, and boasts all sorts of old newspaper clippings in frames decorating the walls. Steve said he didn't believe they were real. I begged to differ. "Look at the crease in the middle of the paper," I defended. "Of course it's authentic!"
"Now really," he reasoned, "if one were to make a reproduction of a newspaper, of course one would photoshop in a crease for it to appear genuine..." Meh.

After Gordon's, we walked down past Trafalgar to my other fun nightspot, The International. This is the place that Tracy and I hunted desperately for during the entirety of our first trip to London in May 2006, after randomly discovering it the first night of our arrival. The reason we were unable to find it? We were mistakenly told that it was called Metropolitan. Humph. Thus, every time we'd ask, "Do you know where Metropolitan is? We want to go there again!" the response was always, "Um, no -- never heard of it." The last night of that trip we coincidentally fell upon it with some locals. It was then that I learned a very important lesson: When traveling, should you come across a place you really enjoy, take a picture of the outside and its name. Sigh.

Anywho, The International boasts one of the best (read: most American) martinis that I've ever found in this city. Hooray! Added to that is its impressive Pimms drinks, served with a veritable buffet of food in the cocktail itself. Seriously. It's a cocktailer's dream.

Saturday was spent in Clapham at The Avalon for Ruth's birthday celebration. The champagne was flowing at her table and everyone was enjoying the company and the fun surroundings, which included a chain chandelier that I believe was to be in the spirit of King Arthur...Good times.

Now back to work and finding a job. Thankfully, my new sofabed will be delivered tomorrow morning, between (yikes!) 7-9 a.m. I'm oh-so-looking forward to it, as sitting on an air mattress in my front room seems incredibly Bohemian...and not in a good way.

And the ten boxes of my stuff (clothes, kitchenware, shoes)? Still not to be delivered until 27th October...if then. Argh. Five pairs of shoes is just not enough for a month's time. This rots and I desperately want to be reunited with my 78 pairs of shoe friends...

I'm becoming a Londoner...yeah, in my dreams

So...More time has passed, yet I've still no Internet access in the flat. Argh. Apparently, the same sense of urgency is just not felt here at all. I picked up a bed and a sofabed for the flat. The bed was delivered only days after the purchase (thank goodness, as that inflatable mattress was really for the birds!), and the nice man huffed and puffed it up the three flights of steps to my room. The sofabed, however, is another story. Although it was purchased more than a week ago, delivery is up to 35 days. Good times. I'm still sitting on a bathmat on the floor of my front room for my morning paper and cup o' tea...and will be until the 1st November date they've promised. Grr.

Added to this delayed fun is the fact that my ten boxes o' stuff still haven't arrived, though they cleared customs a week ago. They have to be scheduled for London delivery, which, I've been told, will take 2-3 more weeks. In the meantime, I've made good use of the tiny lil' washing machine (pictured in my kitchen) which holds two tank tops and a pair of socks if I'm lucky.

Onto the good stuff...

My first night, I went down to my local Colliers Wood pubs after Julian had left. The first one, The Standard, was very local and everyone was at rapt attention for the football (no, not NFL) game on the tvs. The second one, just yards further, is The Colliers Tup -- and it's fab. It's friendly, reasonably priced, sells nachos, and has a great beer garden ("the best in southwest London"). There I met my new friend, Steve, another Colliers Wood local...though he can't tell me for sure what a "tup" is, either.

Steve introduced me to his friends and last week, a half dozen of us went to the NBA game at the O2 arena, where the Utah Jazz and Chicago Bulls battled it out in front of a packed 17,000-fan audience. The Bulls pulled it off by one last-minute point. Fixed..? Oh, of course not...Note: English fans are not big on the yelling, screaming "wooop! woooop!" thing...

Understanding that I must be the most geographically incompetent person in the world, I set off to find the British Library, where it is rumoured to have free wi-fi access throughout. Yippee! I checked my London A-Z (that's pronounced "zed" -- not "zee" -- thank you!) and saw that it's situated right next to King's Cross/St. Pancras tube station, which is where Harry Potter catches the train for Hogwarts. (No, seriously.) It being so close, I didn't take the A-Z map book. Big mistake. I wandered around for over an hour trying to find it until I finally just gave up, found a book warehouse shop and picked up a sale book of gory fun, Underground London: Travels beneath the city streets to read over lunch at a pub. (It must be noted, however, that I did finally succeed in finding the Library, which is where I'm working on job hunting. How I missed it in the first place, I've no idea. It's huge, with lots of people milling about, and has a big "British Library" sign on it. Um...yeah.)

The funny thing about my geography incompetence is that it does not extend to pubs. Case in point: While wondering around Borough Market/Southwark area prior to meeting up for the NBA game, I very randomly came across The George, one of my favorite pubs. It's actually London's last remaining 16th century galleried coaching inn. Another one of my great pub quest stories occurred just the other night. There was a place that Phil Squirrel and I frequented, typically on the evening before I had to return back to the States. I knew it was somewhere near St. Paul's cathedral, but could never remember where...or even what the name of the pub is. Steve and I ventured out to Central London the other night, grabbing a bite of Greek food at a place on the Thames. Over dinner, I told him how desperately I wished I could find my pub, and he shrugged and said he was up for the quest. Rock on.

We stopped at a pub on the way, met up with some older, drunken rugby/business man, Frank Wright (no Lloyd), who called me attractive -- until he learned I was American. After our quick drink, we asked the pubmaster lady for a pub called The Black Friar, which magically popped into my head. "I know there's a pub called that," I told Steve, "but I don't know if it's MY pub." Sure enough, it was. Yay! And as you see in the pic on the right, we found it!

Steve proved to be a better tour guide than I'd originally thought. (Most times, it must be pointed out, I'm quite sure I know more about London than he does...and that's definitely not much!) We went up to Camden Town, the funky/punky market area where I was hoping to pick up my £1 lucky bracelets (no luck there), and then went further north and wandered through Hampstead Heath, a really pretty green park area. One of the ickies I saw, however, was a bathing area (swimming area) part of a lake that was roped off for folks to use. (See pic on right.) Ew, ew, ew. It was near the sledge-y side where the swans and geese also were swimming and I can only imagine the blue scum and algae that would eat one's skin and make one glow in the dark were one to actually jump into the lake. Indeed.

We continued through the Heath and up to Parliament Hill for the city's best view of London. It was truly magnificent. The fact that the day was crisp and blue didn't hurt, either. You can see for miles up there, including all of the familiar landmarks of the London skyline, from St. Paul's to King's Cross and, of course, the gherkin. The opposite side of the view (er, other direction...whatever...See? I said I was geographically challenged!) was this super-quaint little town, which proved too fab and inviting that we could hardly resist following through the park and into the village to see if we could find (of course) a pub. We did, in a little place called The Bull and Last. One of the things I found truly interesting herein was that the blackboard highlighting its suppliers were all UK ones. That is, this tiny island is so incredibly self-sustaining, from the beef raised nearby to the fruits, veggies, herbs (pronounced with the "h," remember), seafood, olives, vinegars, whatever. That's pretty cool, I should think. The only thing they don't have and can't get? Petrol. But really -- who in the world can? No wonder it's so costly to drive here!

Andrea in London for a week. No blog post? BAD!

After a great sendoff with my fabulous family and a last night in Huntington with Casey and some guys who were SO Brooklyn/Long Island at the local pizza place ("Ok, hold for da shot -- one, two, tree..." Um. Ok), I was ready to leave my home country...kinda. (winks)

Mom and Daddy dropped me off at JFK on Tuesday afternoon. After checking in Star, relatively uneventfully (thank goodness!), we went to the passenger terminal, where my carry on baggage was WAY too heavy (about three times the allotted amount. The young girl at the Virgin Air counter was rather helpful, asking if I could transfer some to my (also too heavy) checked luggage. She seemed much more forgiving after seeing the Chelsea Handler book that Susie had given me for the flight. "Oh! I read that! It's great!" hehe...

Mom, Dad and I had a lovely drink together at the caviar bar in the airport. Once done, it was time to say our sad goodbyes...wait -- they're not "goodbyes," they're "till laters"...

Mom was a little bit tearful, Dad was a bit consoling and I was a bit excited. It's definitely not the last time I'll be in New York, of course!

My flatmate for the flight was a 27-year old rugby player/fireman (er, that is, officer of the fire brigade). He was absolutely huge and fun to talk to and told me to look him up if I'm ever in York. Um...ok.

Julian was awaing my arrival as planned, and we took my HUGE three suitcases and somehow miraculously fit them into his ol' skool Mini (none of that big-new-Mini-Cooper stuff here!). Of course, Star still had yet to fit in, too. Now that proved to be a bit of another challenge. She squashed in amongst the baggage and we were off. (This was, it must be noted, after we'd driven around in circles for nearly an hour trying to find the Animal Reception Centre. Sigh.)

I met Lewis, obtained my flat keys and we were off to see my first London flat. It's phenom and fab...and I love it. Bright, right on the High Street, great bedroom view (a la Oliver Twist or Sound of Music chimney sweeps or something). It's awesome.

Here are a few pics of the view...
The first three are looking from my living room window, then up and down the street. Please do note my fabulous photographic timing in getting the traditional red bus in the shot, thank you!

After getting my uber-heavy luggage up the three flights of stairs, Julian and I went to Sainsbury's to pick up household goods I'd need "straightaway." I picked up cheap plates, towels, glasses, etc. and also some groceries. It's really convenient to have this place up the street. It's like a Super Target, really -- clothes, groceries, home goods, camping equipment, whatever. There's also a huge Marks & Spencer attached, but I didn't go in there...a bit too pricey for my cheap blood at the moment. Sigh. Maybe once I have a job, pray tell..? (winks)

To celebrate my arrival and my newfound digs, Julian took me to Wimbledon, a quick trip up on the 151, 200, 57 buses. We, of course, opted for his car, so we could take Star to a pub with a beer garden. It was lots of fun and it really hit me during a jaunt to the bathroom (I know -- that sounds odd) that for the first time in my life, I don't have to leave in just a week. Like, I'm here for awhile. Of course, Julian then noted that means about 1,000 days, and that I should begin counting them down now. Oh, what fun to have a cynic as a friend. (winks)

We went back to my flat after having a quick spot of food and opened up the newly-purchased Sainsbury's champagne in my flat to celebrate. It really felt as though I've arrived, and I'm not even yet doing what I want to be (e.g. working, living, exploring). That all comes next -- and now -- as I begin to network, look and apply for jobs, try to get a bank account and Internet access within my flat, etc. Truth be told, it's been more overwhelming than I'd imagined. I don't know why I figured this would all be sorted out in just a few days' time, but that's so not seemed to be the case, sadly enough. I feel very unconnected to the outside world (where's my Twitter and iPhone?!?) and have limited use of phone/Internet. Ugh...It hurts for this chick who likes techno fun...


I'll of course write more about my first week's experiences soon (tomorrow?) but just must now find some more pounds -- the currency, not the weight -- to sort out more time at the Internet cafe. This stuff can get very pricey!

I've been overwhelmed, by the way, of the many good wishes and notes from my friends, and am so lucky I've got such great people behind me, supporting this move...most especially my parents. God love 'em for helping me as much as they have! Ah, again -- what would we do without the love and support of fabulous family and wonderful friends?

If anyone wants to reach me, by the way, you can call my new UK mobile. Love, love!