IKEA

Last night Tom, Caron, Leo and I made a trip to IKEA to pick up some essentials we'll need when we move into our new places at the end of the week. This was Tom and Caron's first trip to the land of cheap and plenty, but we're now experts at it. Every IKEA is exactly the same. It's always located in some suburban strip mall area, surrounded by KFCs and Pizza Huts. It always smells the same - some plastic/wooden/perfumey blend. The entrance is alway difficult to locate. The pathways through the store are circuitous. And you always spend more than you thought you would. The IKEA in Edmonton was no different. After getting some food and beer, to make the shopping a bit more bearable, we embarked on our mission for bedding, dishes, and kitchen stuff. An hour and forty-five minutes later, we were broken, exhausted, and praying that we'd never have to come back...that's the IKEA charm!

Thank you Heather and Aaron: Our dinner at St. John

Last night we went to our favorite restaurant in London (so far), St. John. Our friends Heather and Aaron got us a gift certificate there for our going away/anniversary gift. Thank you, thank you, thank you! For their benefit, I shall now recount our meal in their foodie speak:

We ordered a bottle of Côtes de Provence Domaine de l’Ile (2003) and started with the Langoustines & Mayonnaise and Pig's Spleen with Bacon. The langoustines were enormous and very sweet. The mayonnaise was a bit tangy, so a perfect complement to the sweetness of the meat. One of the langoustines was full of roe, which we learned we could have mixed in with the mayo, but instead we just ate it on its own. The spleen tasted like liver, and was rolled with the bacon into discs. It was served with cornichons, sliced red onions, and vinegar (I think it was red wine vinegar). All of the accompaniments cut the creamy, organy flavor of the spleen.

For our main courses we shared the Chitterlings with Dandelions and Pintail with Jerusalem Artichokes. The bitterness of the dandelions nicely cut the fatty, buttery-richness of the chitterlings. The pintail may have been soaked or cooked in tea, since it tasted slightly of Earl Grey. The meat was a deep burgundy color, and tasted almost like organ meat, which I love! As an added bonus, I found two bird-shot pellets in the meat (by "found" I mean bit down full-force and was afraid I cracked my tooth). For dessert, Leo had a glass of Fernet Branca and I got a glass of Muscat, and we shared a half-dozen fresh, out-of-the-oven Madeleines, which were buttery, airy, and delicious. It was a wonderful meal all around. So thanks again!

Pretending to be tourists

This weekend, Leo and I did a ton of walking - taking in the sights, observing the people, and eating the local cuisine...well not all of it was "local" but it was all good. Saturday we attempted to find Temple Church, which I think is so hard to get to in order to keep all of the Da Vinci Code fanatics away. Once we finally got to the church, we were disappointed to find that it was closed due to scaffolding being taken down. So we headed west on the Thames until we found another, bigger, more ornate church - Westminster Abbey - passing Big Ben on the way (which Leo and I had both thought was actually on Tower Bridge, and the bridge was the Tower of London - at least we are starting to figure things out).Once we became overwhelmed with the Abbey, we headed for home-base, stopping along the way for Leo to purchase two essential items - an umbrella and a ukulele. Unfortunately, I encouraged the ukulele purchase, not realizing that his playing the instrument would be more grating than his constant harping that he wanted to purchase one. At least having a ukulele lying around will give me something to entertain myself with, since I'm still not working yet. For dinner we decided on sushi, which in New York was a staple for us, but here seems a tad more difficult to come by. The place we went to, Pham Sushi, was wonderful - just like a New York sushi place - very fresh and filling, and about as expensive as a good sushi place in New York. Only negative is our new apartment is just a bit too far out of their delivery area.

Today, we took a tour around our new neighborhood - timing how long it takes to get to our place from the tube, checking out bus stops, and food/drink stores. Only 5 days left until we move in! We also checked out the flower market, just north of our new place, on the way to getting a traditional Sunday roast at the Royal Oak, which was awesome. For those of you not familiar with the Sunday Roast, it usually includes a huge plate of a roasted meat, served with vegetables and Yorkshire pudding, all covered in gravy. The roast with a pint of beer on a Sunday afternoon is my favorite new tradition.

What's missing in this picture?

This is a photo of the front door to our temporary flat. Many front doors that I have encountered are missing the same item, seen as essential in the US...namely, a doorknob. If anyone can tell me why the Brits are opposed to doorknobs, I would be thrilled to hear it. Bathroom stalls and front doors never seem to have them, whereas interior door sometimes do. Many doors have a small metal hook on the bottom of the key whole, I assume for allowing you to pull the door closed, by sliding your finger in the hook. We've used our to open bottles of beer, so it is quite useful. Just odd.

Glimpses of home

It is weird the things that make you miss home. And that those things, at the same time, make you feel very comfortable in your new locale. The other evening, I was walking to meet Leo for a drink near his office. I think I was walking down Clerkenwell Road and I glanced to my right and saw what for an instant looked like the Capital building in D.C. On second, and more reasonable glance, it turned out to be St. Paul's Cathedral.

It sounded like a Scottish restaurant

I'm not sure why my friend Caron (the other New York transplant) and I wandered into the McDonalds on Whitechapel street, but it did make for an interesting experiment. We had just spent the afternoon walking around what after February 1st will be our new neighborhood, and we had worked up a bit of an appetite. After wandering through numerous Bangladeshi markets, we had curry-overload, so we decided against one of the many curry houses. And then we saw it - Caron's eyes went for the McFlurry sign and I was caught up by the unexpectedly hip interior and neon decor. There were no frightening Ronald McDonald sculptures, gone were the red and yellow plastic booths, and the nasty chemical smell which usually accosts you at the threshold to the restaurant. But how was the food?I opted for a quarter pounder with cheese. I've probably eaten at McDonalds twice in the past year. But a McDonalds burger is a taste you never forget. And you can tell their burgers from sight as well - the patty is slightly gray, rubbery, and almost completely obscured by the crushed bun. The vegetables are anemic looking or non-existent. The first thing I noticed with the UK version was that the patty looked and smelled like actual beef. When I picked it up, juices flowed and pooled in the cardboard container. When I bit into it, I bit into fresh and tasty pickles, tomatoes, and onions. It tasted like a real hamburger. And for under ₤2, it's was a good deal as well. But for 500 calories and over 20 grams of fat, it will remain a rare treat.

My first day off

Now that I'm employed, I can look at every day in which I'm not working as a day off. So this morning I was in vacation-mode. I slept in. I took a long walk (and returned an alarm clock whose alarm didn't work). Then I took another long walk in the opposite direction, ending up at the British Museum. Unlike most museums in the states, most here are FREE. So to just pop into a museum to view a few rooms is an enjoyable and economical way to spend the afternoon.

On the brighter side

I realize some of the past posts have been a bit...gloomy. Well, here's a little something to sing about:

We got a bank account!
We got an apartment and are signing the lease tonight!
I got a job!

WOW!!! Can you tell I'm excited. I don't even care that it is raining again.

The Broker vs. the Letting Agent

We're New Yorkers. We know how hard it is to find a good apartment in Manhattan. You can rarely ever find a place rented by the owner, so you are forced to go through a money-grubbing, blood-sucking, idiot of a broker. He'll show you crap. He'll never be able to get the right keys. He'll show you things out of our price-range or places with a fee when you ask for no-fee only. We've come to expect that.

In London, however, we have no idea what to expect. Is our very kind letting agent trying to rip us off? Does he offer us tea every time we meet just to soften us up? Is his polite and refined demeanor just an act? Is he a New York broker?

One major difference we've found is that in London you have to bid on a flat, like when you buy a place in the States. The owner of the property (and perhaps the letting agent) come up with what seems like an arbitrary number for rent. Then, if you like the place, you negotiate the fee. You can ask for the rent to be lower than the asking price. You can ask for a contract of any length. We've even found you can ask for more or less furniture in a furnished apartment. It's an evil, manipulative, stressful game - especially when you have no idea who is on your side.

Right now, we've put a bid on a flat. We underbid, since our letting agent said we could probably still get it and the place was on the higher end of our budget. We asked for furniture, since we left all of ours behind. When our offer was placed, there were no other offers on the table. We were confident. We began to research the neighborhood, getting excited by all of the interesting shops and markets. We discussed how we would arrange the furniture. Life was good, but then we got the call from our agent. The owner had received another bid. This one was at the asking price and they wanted a longer contract. So, reluctantly, the gamblers in us took over and we bid slightly higher. Then we waited - but we didn't hear back from our agent. Yes, it was Saturday night, but he had said he'll call us back. So we called him and were informed that we had the higher bid, but our rivals had asked for less furniture and a longer lease. So now we wait for the owner to decide who gets the place. And we wait...

Horribly Shitty Banking Center

When we decided to move, we tried to round up as much information as we could about what we'd need to open a bank account in London. There was no one site or book with a comprehensive list about items we'd need to have on-hand. So we decided to bring everything and anything we could. We had our bank write a letter for us saying we were in good standing. We printed out pay stubs and bank statements. We got a letter from Leo's employer stating his salary and confirming his employment. We had an invoice for the flat we are temporarily renting. Of course, we had our passports and visas. We'd even gone to the US branch of the bank to ask questions, as well as to a branch over here to make sure we had all the necessary identification.

So we walked into the very well known, worldwide bank mildly confident that we'd be able to open a bank account...and we were denied. Apparently, in order to open up the better "immigrant" account (the one we would be able to get a credit card with, and we'd be able to open jointly) we'd also need a bill in our names from our permanent residence. So, we decided that we'd open up the basic immigrant account - what they call a Passport Account. The name alone made us confident that we'd be leaving with a place to store our money. But we were denied again. We were told that the invoice from our temporary housing, and the letter from the employer were not enough to prove that we could handle the responsibilities of putting money into their bank. Instead we'd need another letter from the employer stating where we were living. Once we came back with that, we'd be able to open up an account for each of us (the Passport Account can not be a joint account), we'd pay about 7 pounds per month, and in 6 months we'd be able to switch to the better immigrant account (also with a fee).

We left in the rain, disheartened and afraid that no one would take our money. After a pint, we were willing to try again with another, friendlier looking bank. The woman helping us was very nice and helpful. All they'd need was a passport in order to open the most simple account, but they run a credit/background check on us to see if we qualified for a better account (which she was confident we would). We weren't able to get it done that day, but could make an appointment to come in later, which we will. Hopefully, the next update on this topic will be a happy one.

The keys to survival

When you're young, you are taught that man needs food, water, shelter, and sunlight in order to survive. When you move, especially to a new country, you realize there are more items on the list. Man needs the ability to communicate with other people - a.k.a. cell phones. Man needs money, and that money needs to be easily accessible by man. The money and the ability to communicate are necessary in order to obtain shelter and food. Employment should be on the list as well, since there needs to be a flow of money (so as not to deplete all of your savings, which will be necessary for shelter and food in the future). The only problem is that many of these needs for survival are contingent upon one another. 

Lets take the example of getting a bank account...in London. To get a bank account (one which you don't have to pay a ton for and actually gives you useful benefits like a credit card) you need a permanent residence and a letter from an employer stating your salary and confirming your residence.  You'll also need a letter of recommendation from your US bank and a personal reference. Easy enough. However, in order to gain a permanent residence, in most cases, you need a bank account and a credit history - of which we have none in the UK (so much for a truly global economy). In some cases you can bypass the credit history by paying up to 6 months rent upfront. You'll also need a letter of recommendation from your previous US landlord. To get a credit card, not through a bank, so that you can have a credit history, you need a permanent residence and a prior credit history, unless you want to pay exorbitant fees. To get a cell phone, you'll need cash on hand, since your American credit card probably won't be accepted, since you have no chip and PIN. If you have cash on hand, the only cell phone you'll be able to purchase is a pay-as-you-go phone, with much higher fees, since to get a monthly plan you need a permanent residence and a credit history.

As for us, we've gotten a pay-as-you-go phone and we are waiting on the letter from the employer so we can open the bank account - one with a credit card, hopefully. Our temporary shelter runs out in February, so we're trying to deal with that as well. 

An interesting comparison

Yesterday, we decided to pick up some food at the local grocery store, Waitrose. In New York, we rarely encounter a large grocery store, unless for some reason we go to the Whole Foods in Union Square. So, not only were we shocked by what we found in the store, we were initially overwhelmed with the size. Once inside, we searched every aisle for interesting products, good deals, and things to stock our tiny fridge with.

Our first big find were grapefruits. The prices were not only reasonable, it was cheaper to buy a Florida grapefruit here than in New York (if we were lucky in NY, and they were on sale, and in good condition, we could find grapefruit for 2 for $3, whereas here they are less than $1.40 not on sale). So we purchased some happily.

There was an entire aisle of prepared foods - mostly fresh, some frozen, and all with ingredients with names we could pronounce (a.k.a. no crazy additives). All were very reasonably priced and simple to prepare. We were also pleased to find complete liquor store withing the supermarket. The Whiskeys were amazingly cheap. Champagne and wines a bit more expensive than at home. And tons of interesting beers and ciders to test all inexpensive.

We left the store with at least 3 nights worth of dinners (for 2), 4 breakfasts (for 2), tea, snacks, and a newspaper for about $40 American. Less than we've ever spent for the same amount of food in Manhattan.

Our very humble abode

When we pulled up in our black cab to Endsleigh Court, we were exhausted and just looking for a place to drop our bags and sleep. We thought that anything would do, especially since it would only be temporary. But in our bleary-eyed haze, the flat looked dismal, smelled bad, and was anything but inviting. However, after we got some sleep, purchased some food and a scented candle, hung up some clothes, and had a pint, the place didn't seem so bad. Although, we will be starting our flat-hunting today.

We've made it

The flight was great. From now on, we will only fly Virgin's premium economy class - so much space, comfy leather seats, champagne before take off, shorter lines at security, attentive flight attendants. It actually makes flying almost enjoyable. We arrived this morning in London, with all 6 suitcases and a guitar intact. We crammed everything into a cab and are now at our not-so-luxurious living quarters (luckily it is only temporary). I'll post photos soon, but right now, it's nap time.

This is what we are taking with us

6 suitcases
1 guitar
2 carry on bags
(we also shipped 4 small boxes of books ahead of time)
Everything fit into Leo's parent's car, except for us. So we hailed a cab to the airport.

So many goodbyes

An American Goodbye

Tonight was our last night living in the USA. So to be as American as possible, we went out for BBQ at RUB followed by watching bull riding at Madison Square Garden. It was a night of meat, alcohol, funny costumes, hollering, new friends, old friends, and a drunk cougar. PBR began with a salute to America, complete with policemen, fireworks, and USA burned into the floor of the Garden. We then befriended a group of people from upstate New York, who shared their Southern Comfort with us and partook in betting with us on bull vs. rider. As I sat back watching the festivities sipping on my Lynchberg Lemonade, I realized that this was the perfect send off.

New Years

As if we didn't have enough to do, we headed up to Boston to celebrate New Years with friends who we probably wouldn't be seeing for a while. New Years festivities included drinking, eating, playing video games, watching movies, and more drinking. It was quite fun and relaxing - always nice to have a break from packing and cleaning. So, thank you Ned for putting us up (and putting up with us); thank you Lance for never changing; and thank you John for keeping us up with your sleeping habits.