Ready, Set, Go...

I don't know why but all of a sudden I'm dreading starting classes tomorrow. Maybe it's because I haven't been in a classroom in over a year or maybe it's because I'm far more concerned with finding a job that will pay enough to allow me to live in London once I graduate a year from now. The prospect of taking on one of the biggest cities in the world is just a wee bit daunting at this point. I know no one in this country beyond my peers/classmates who, no offense to them because they're all wonderful people, don't “carry as much weight” as an adult. And while I'm quite used to living and being alone I'm not used to arranging an entire living situation outside of a university setting on my own and in a foreign country, nonetheless.

It hit me hard today, my looming future, as I walked to Hammersmith, the next area north of Putney, across the Thames. I walked there and back in 4 hours; all in all, about 10 miles? Ish? I think? Not important. The point is, as I walked up and down, street after street, I passed dozens of homes 'To Let', or more familiarly, 'For Rent'. And the more of these rental homes I passed the more deeply it sank in that I have ONLY a year to find a new place to live, since I can't stay on campus after graduation. Not only do I need to FIND a decent place to live, you know, like a place with plumbing and not just a cardboard box, I also need a job that pays well enough to allow me to live in London. Ideally said job would allow me to live beyond the brink of poverty. Sure, I could tolerate living in a closet with rats and mildew, starving to death, barely scraping by from measly paycheck to measly paycheck, but I would so much rather, um, not. Heck, I can live frugally. I always have! But pure poverty, the thought of it, is already scaring the $h!t out of me.

This is actually my school

One year from the day I set foot in this country my VISA expires and if I am still unemployed by then, if I don't have a new sponsor saying I deserve and have the right to remain here, I'll be kicked back to the US. And I really, really don't want to go back there. That, to me, would be the equivalent of failure, ending up back in Cleveland because I couldn't make it in the UK on my own. All I would think, every day, was how I should've tried harder somehow. So right now is my one chance, my only chance to get it right. It's not as simple to go apartment and job hunting in the UK when you live in the US as you might think. Meaning it's borderline impossible. So I have one shot at this. Ready, set, go. 

And while I panic, you, my readers, can enjoy the lovely scenery of Hammersmith and Putney (yes, all these photos on this post are mine):

My Own Personal Abercrombie Model

A day that started out like any other....Ok, wait. I lied. When your day starts with 'Shoe Shopping on Regent Street' in London it is far from any ordinary day. When your mission involves a jaunt on a speeding underground train into one of the biggest cities in the world just to buy a pair of shiny black stilettos, you're not in Kansas any more, Dorothy.

Beautiful People

That's right, another trip into the big city today. And while I didn't find the heels I craved I DID find a pair of cute brown boots, a pair of shiny flats, and two new shirts I simply couldn't live without. But there's even MORE exciting news than just that. Much, much better news, as a matter of fact. My dear friend and shopping buddy, the every-present-in-my-London-life Jeppe, was approached today by an Abercrombie & Fitch “talent agent”. Oh, I didn't mention Jeppe looks like a runway model? Oh right, THAT detail. Oops, guess I left that out until now. Yeah. Well. He does. So this guy, the “agent” person, literally tracks us (and by us I mean Jeppe) into a store and approaches my wonderful friend while we're perusing the women's shoe section and asks “Would you be interested in being a store model for A&F?” Thinking the talent scout is talking to ME, the poor darling, my friend just stares at me, unaware that he's the one the scout is after. So literally right then and there Jeppe is invited to an interview for the same day at 4:00 PM. He's handed directions to 1 Old Brompton Road and then the scout vanishes into the crowd. 

Another Example

Only in London.

Once the guy disappears we have our mutual freak-out moment right there in the store, despite the fact that I'm not at all surprised. If anyone should be a model it's this guy, I swear.

The next 3-4 hours we spend hypothesizing over the fame and fortune that will inevitably follow. Each designer store we enter is a future employer, every clothing item on the shelf is something my friend will undoubtedly wear one day on the catwalk.

We browsed Tiffany's, DKNY, Dolce and Gabbana, Yves Saint Laurent, and Chanel, just to pass time while pretending we were disgustingly rich. After all, a single sportcoat in Yves cost as much as our college tuition. Go figure.

THIS is Where We Shopped. No, REALLY.

At 10 til 4 we headed over to the Abercrombie headquarters and marched 5 flights of stairs to a tiny door at the top. There, I was commanded to vacate the premises. Only “real” applicants allowed, apparently. Thus, with a wish of good luck I left my dear friend in the clutches of potential employers and, myself, returned to the streets of London to bide my time for the next hour. I made my way back out to Regent Street, the main road for the casual shopper in London who can't afford the designer brands, and made a few more purchases thinking all the while about the fate of my friend.

The London A&F Storefront

I returned early to the Abercrombie and Fitch door, only to notice the store itself attached around the corner. I went in and was surprised to find models EVERYWHERE showing off the clothes, posing with customers, and greeting people as they entered. They didn't even have to fold clothes or do anything other than stand there and look beautiful. Tough work, huh? The store itself was two stories and it was very dark, crowded, and loud so I didn't stay long. But the one thing I did notice was how gorgeous everyone in that store was, even the shoppers. London. Amazing. The city where beautiful people thrive.

With excitement and energy after such an excellent meeting with A&F we navigated the streets of London's Westminster Borough in search of a random, cozy cafe. En route we saw a brand new black Lamborghini parked like no big deal on the street. I DID take a photo of that one ;)

We finally snagged some food at a Pret a Manger hidden away in a tiny courtyard called St. Christopher's Place. Ah, coffee and a place to sit after 7 hours of shopping and riding the tube? Nothing beats it. The weather was perfect so we sat outside and people watched and bragged to his friends and family about the day's good fortune and the luck he had. 

Looking into the St. Christopher's Place Alley

This is Right Where we Sat, Our Vantage Point from Pret

I think we need to go into the city more often. OBVIOUSLY it's a place where you're bound to have good luck!....or at least a great time ;)

Cheers!

EM

Richmond Park

As promised, here is the newest entry describing another “first” and, also, general animal confusion.

Putney Along the Thames

But first, let me tell you a bit more about where I am. Like where I am right now. Like RIGHT now. Often, I go into Putney to write these blogs for the very simple reason that I very much dislike being alone in my room for long. Granted, that rarely happens. There is always someplace to go, some shopping to do, someone to visit, and of course some running to do. I am constantly busy and classes haven't even begun! But in those rare moments of down time I walk to Putney, the town I've mentioned many times, just a quick two miles away. Putney is mainly residential but there are two or three “main roads”, the biggest of which runs perpendicular to the other two and will send you straight into London, basically, if you were to take it far enough north. While you can't do much in the way of clothes shopping here you can, however, buy all the essentials. They have all the most common stores like Sainsbury's for groceries, Boots for pharmaceuticals and drug store items, Vodafone and Orange for all your mobile phone needs, and of course the usual fast food and cafe eateries....among other things. The sidewalks can be quite crowded during the days but less packed than sardined pedestrains in Central London. Like most of London, Putney is an old town with old brick and stone buildings. It had two connections to the tube and two train stops for the line that terminates at Waterloo station. 

A Random Italian Restaurant You'll Pass on Your Way to the Tube

It's here in Putney, like I said, that I most often come to write. You can find me at the corner of Putney Hill Road and Montserrat Road in a front window seat of Cafe Nero, a chain coffee place much like Starbucks. Normally, I'd prefer a quieter cafe, a local place hidden down a narrow side street, but those don't have wireless connections. Oddly enough, it's harder to connect to the wireless internet in London than I would've thought prior to coming here. Regardless, from my spot in the window seat at a tiny high-topped table I can both write and people watch. 

Literally THIS Cafe Nero, I'll be the one in the Window on the Left in this Picture View

The thing that I admire most is how those giant double-decker buses navigate these miniature streets while bikes crowd the traffic from every side and ridiculous tourists run out into oncoming traffic. From here I have yet to witness a collision. Farther up the road, however, back towards school, I did see the aftermath of a reckless motorcycle driver. They're known for weaving between cars and that morning one's hurried maneuverability didn't quite pay off. The bike was smashed to bits in the road and the driver of the car that hit it was in a neck brace, still strapped in the car. They had to cut off traffic on that road, the main road through Roehampton, during London's rush hour. If you thought Cleveland was bad.....

I've Been Told the Thames in Putney is Where They Hold the Famous Cambridge/Oxford Rowing Competition

Thankfully, the is a flip side to the chaos of London. Some time ago some genius English ruler thought to install/maintain a slew of public nature reserves across London and incidentally put the largest of these right next to my campus. Richmond Park existed before the school despite the fact that Roehampton is one of the oldest schools in London. It was once a manor house, built by a gent of some considerable wealth, to overlook the park, intentionally facing the opposite way away from London's skyline. After its conversion into a school, developed with the intention to be one of the first universities to admit female students, no less, dorms and additional buildings were constructed, each of which face the park as well. My room, today, overlooks the park from afar. 

Lovely, Lovely....

Finally, after days of anticipation, I made the 10 minute jog to the main entrance of Richmond Park with the intention to explore its grounds on foot. This first excursion took place close to dusk which initially left me fearful. Being the intelligent girl I am, I am ingrained with a dislike of new-place-exploration in the dark. However, I wanted to run and with luck I figured I might make it out again before complete sunset. 

These Shots Barely Do Justice to the Size of this Park

Alas, I did not. But I was happily surprised by several things all at once. First of all, my immediate reaction upon entering this park was awe and disbeleif. Again, I am living in one of the biggest, most populated cities in the world. Yet there before me was an open expanse of nature as far as I could see. Miniature rolling hills, trees, rivers, and paths going off in every direction. A runner's paradise. Not wanting to get lost in the dark, though, I took the paved, straight path, pointed toward the center of the park, I guessed. This paved path ran parallel to the road that also passes through the park. I was pleasantly surprised by an absence of traffic, though, as the gates close at dusk and only bikers and people on foot can enter. So the park was intensely quiet.

The White Cow Behind King's College Cambridge

Quiet until I hear an astoundingly loud 'mooing' off in the distance. There I was, simply admiring the scenery and the fact that both gravel and grass paths weaved across the hills and fields and off into the far away distance when all of a sudden I'm disrupted by what I assumed must be a cow. A cow, alone, in a public park, sounded beyond suspect. However, it's not unknown. I'd experienced free-range cows in Cambridge. Literally free-range. A white one often trespassed across the boundaries established by the university to keep the great unwashed public out, away from the brilliance of its students. Cows, on the other hand, could pass this barrier willingly and without retribution, apparently, because no one bothered to send it on its way. It lounged directly behind King's College Chapel, along the Backs (as they called the 'Backs' of the colleges), most days, lazily soaking in the sounds of the chapel choirs, I'd bet.

So while I was running, minding my own business, a suspicious cow-like moo reached me. Imagine, then, my surprise to come nearly face to face with an entirely different beast once I crested the hill. At first glance I thought it was a moose, sure to attack. Its giant size lended to a most threatening appearance. But upon further inspection, if not speedy inspection, its true identity was revealed: a male deer, a buck with antlers the size of tree limbs. Praying it saw me as less of a threat than I saw it, I hurried past just as it called out in its cow-moo-voice again. At that point, seemingly out of harms way with the animal remaining quite still behind me, I relaxed....and noticed the entire herd of deer just beyond that single male. I'd wager that buck was watching over the herd. They were about 30-50 in number; it's hard to be too accurate with a population count because the deer blended so effortlessly with the dry grasses, and then they stay perfectly still.

Lots and Lots and Lots of Deer, Everywhere.

Since my first run in Richmond Park I've returned to it almost daily. Again, I hope to get photos up soon. One of these days I need to force myself to get out and about and just snap away at everything.

Cheers!

First "Firsts"

I'm now able to introduce my friend, the one I talk so much about, because he is now an avid reader of mine ;) Though I believe he was amused by the “Red Pants” title, it seems more appropriate to use his name. So without further ado, allow me to introduce Mr. Jeppe Fensholt!! It's because of this guy that I have had several “firsts” this week, and anyone who knows me is well aware I am a collector, if you will, of new experiences. I really, really love trying new things. Luckily for me a giant part of moving to a new country is navigating through first-time-experiences. Heck, for the first few days/weeks/months, even, almost everything is new. While many of these “newnesses” can be challenging and irritating many more are entertaining and exciting.

On day 1 of our Roehampton Uni experience we overcame a few minor language “barriers”. Some things that exist in Norway don't exist in the US, and vise versa, and in the case of Norwegian to English the literal translation of a word doesn't always make sense, which is easy enough to imagine when the thing being described doesn't exist in any English speaking country. The first of these we came across in conversation is a food product that they call KNÄCKEBRÖD, or “Snap Bread”. It's not like a cracker and it's not like bread. It's more like a wholegrain wafer about the size of a coaster, kind of a darkish brownish color, harder than burnt toast but not crunchy. See, there's really nothing quite like it! So imagine trying to explain the item in a language that isn't your first. Now, don't get me wrong, all the international students speak English perfectly and they amaze me day after day. Since no native English speaker is forced into learning, like REALLY learning, a second language the people that DO learn one fluently, like all my friends here have done, impress me to no end. I mean, they can read, write, and speak English just as well as anyone who was raised on it. Seriously, just amazingly impressive.

So anyway, back to the “snap bread”. Since that first day the term has morphed into a commonly used phrase, referenced whenever we come upon a similarly unfamiliar object. But it wasn't until our Ikea adventure that I finally understood what the thing really is. Ikea, being a Swedish chain, sells this food item and so, of course, Jeppe had to buy some and, being the wonderful friend he is, let me try it. The most common way to eat a “snap bread” wafer, so I've been told, is to top it with cream cheese and then just dig in. But there's yet another twist to my story: Their cream cheese comes in a tube, like a toothpaste tube. And it's NOT NOT NOT like regular cream cheese like we're used to in America, either. We are familiar with the fruity flavored cream cheeses, like the Philidelphia Strawberry flavor. BUT in Norway and England and Sweden and the rest, their cream cheese is on the saltier side of the palate menu than ours. I think Americans generally cater to a sweet tooth, instead. So thisless-sweet version of cream cheese, this tubed cream cheese of theirs, has MEAT in it!!! So when Jeppe whipped out this stack of snap bread wafers and a tube of ham-chuncked cream cheese I was incredibly skeptical. But, certain he wouldn't steer me wrong, I trusted him with this concoction of unusual food stuff and, lo and behold, I actually really, really liked the combination. Who woulda thunk? So that was a climactic first-time-experience, to say the least. And yeah...there's absolutely NOTHING like it in the US. Either that or I'm just entirely ignorant of it, which is 100% possible.

Plus

 Equals

 

 

My second Jeppe-induced first-time-experience was another bit of foodie education. In Europe people gorge themselves on kebabs instead of Taco Bell/McDonalds/late night fast food after an evening out. Europeans are WAY into Indian food so Open Late kebab places are incredibly common. Needless to say when my dear Jeppe discovered I'd never tasted the wonderment of a real kebab he insisted I try one. These are certainly less fishy-sounding than hammed-cheese in a tube so I was a willing participant again, particularly after the first ultra-questionable food experience went so surprisingly well.

We found a legit kebab place in Putney, the biggest shopping area near the school, run by two Egyptian men. The place was empty minus the two of them but the place was cheery enough. It was brightly lit and had peachy orange walls. The two men spoke very broken English but they were very friendly, so much so that they asked if Jeppe and I were married! Frankly, I didn't think we gave off that vibe at all but I said as a means of clarification, “No, we've only known each other a week.” But apparently these men thought that meant, instead, that we are engaged and they couldn't be told otherwise; it just wasn't sinking in for some reason. 

They also told us all about Egypt and Cairo and how you can use camels, the animal not the cigarette, as currency. 

One camel is worth about £7,000, so they say. In fact, you can even purchase wives using camels as a fair trade. They guessed I would be worth about 100+ camels, which means about £7,000,000!!! Not too bad, not too bad. But that's beside the point because in addition to this extremely interesting conversation we also ate kebabs, I for the first time. Again, Jeppe was quite right. Amazingly good. Lamb with lettuce and cabbage and tomato and onions mixed with a few kinds of sauces all wrapped in a flat bread. Delicious, especially since it's served hot off the cooker on chilly nights.

Next time I'll tell y'all about another “first” in which I mistake a large deer for a cow.

Cheers.

Freshers Adventures

The week before classes begin is dedicated to the freshmen and any other new arrivals on campus, including international and/or postgraduate students. This is most definitely not orientation week; those semi-meaningless activities have come and gone. No, this is Freshers Week and all over again I feel much like, well, a freshman. 99% of my friends here are, in fact, incoming freshman because, let's be honest, freshman are more than eager to have fun. Many times I forget that this is their first time out on their own, so to speak though I'm perfectly aware I'm both the oldest in the group and the only American. The majory of us, meaning my friends and I, live on the same campus. Roehampton is split in three parts and we are on the southern-most of the three, Whitelands campus. Unfortunately I haven't taken photos yet but this week, I suspect, I'll have time to start taking some pics of the campus and of the surrounding areas. That way, in the future, you can imagine the scenery whenever I mention these location. Anyway, like I said, I am not only the oldest in the group with more experience than most people my age at switching schools and starting over at new colleges, but I am the only American amongst my friends.

It was only two days ago, Sunday, the day I last posted, any of the British students arrived. So until then my group was entirely Norwegian plus me. I know I said the first friend I made, the guy wearing Red Pants at the airport, turned out to be my closest friend. Well, that remains true a week later and so far we've really bonded over these days of shared experiences.

Yesterday marked our second day of home-shopping adventures. He and I and another of our group made a seven hour journey to Ikea, the Swedish homes store, packed to bursting with absolutely any household item any person could possibly want. 

I swear on my life it was the biggest store I have ever seen. And that, dear readers, IS saying something considering I am an American and from the land of all things huge. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Half the fun of any adventure is the journey, no?

After a frightful morning of dealing with banks and international transactions, our trio hurried off campus around noon with the hope of meeting up with my friend's mom, who was in town with a group of friends, herself. (By the way, I'm intentionally not mentioning my friends' names because they don't know I'm writing about them. They're all perfectly good sports, a cheerier group than most, I'd say, but just to be kind.....) We are practically masters of “getting into London Central” already; just hop on the #85 bus which speeds you away toward the train station, Barnes Station, which is where you, duh!, ride the train until it terminates at Waterloo Station just west of Central London. There are several tube lines connecting from the station and, with the intention of meeting His mom, rode the Central/District Line to Glouchester (pronounced GLAW-ster) Road, which happens to be the same station I would exit the tube when I “lived” in London two years ago. This exit is in Kensington, one of the nicest, wealthiest parts of London (which is saying something considering some of the wealthiest people in the whole world live in London). It's also known as the White City because of all the white buildings with their white pillars and white marble stairs and ornamentations. 

Anyway, though we missed His mom (she had to catch her plane back to Norway) we stopped at her hotel to pick up a care package she left behind. I've been in a few hotels in London and each one is so unbelievably, unimaginably nice I can't even begin to fathom who could stay there. No human being is clean enough to walk through these places, each of which is spotless and shining and perfect in every way, like a museum or a Grecian temple. I suppose a proper British couple, clad in a mink coat and fitted three piece suit respectively, looking appropriately snobbish and haughty, might fit the profile. But three students bumming around London in jeans and carrying big shopping bags? Certainly not. Luckily, the concierge staff were entirely friendly and even gave us faster direction to our destination, in addition to His care package.

Our trio stumbled back onto the tube's Bakerloo Line, headed north into a section of London I had never seen before. Which was just as well because it was certainly nothing much to look at. The further you get from the center of London the poorer the neighborhoods become. Our stop was, thankfully, next to a free shuttle to the Ikea store, specifically. Initially I found that incredibly odd, that a single store would offer its own shuttle right from the tube. Then I realized, upon arrival, why, indeed, they have their own shuttle. This store, like I said, the the most gigantic thing, nothing like it. I was told, by my friends, it's very popular in Europe because they offer so much STUFF and it's all dirt cheap. Example: I got a frying pan for £1.00, which translates to $1.60-ish. Heck, even if it only lasts the year while I'm at school I'm satisfied. The other surprising thing about this store is that to get to the “marketplace” you must pass through the “showroom”; a right of passage system, apparently. In the show room, as the name suggests, they show off all their crap and you're not allowed to touch it. You have to write down #'s for any specific item you want and then re-find it again once you've passed into the “marketplace”. I managed to find every household item I had left on my shopping list for a mere £12. Win.

Well, if you think it's a long journey to the complete opposite side of London, try making the same trip back at the end of the day, 6 hours later, carrying a load of shopping bags. On the tube. Switching between lines. It's fair to say everyone was completely exhausted by the time we alighted at Putney station, the closest to Roehampton, about 2 miles away. One last bus ride and, viola. Home again, home again. Barely.

 

And then I went running. Yes, yes I did. In the dark. In a still strange city. Smart? Probably not.

The Learning Curve

Today I experimented with a coffee press.

This is a coffee press. Notice the Pressing Action.

You put the grounds in the bottom of one tube and push water through them using a plunger-type device. It ought to be simple but I managed to screw it up the first time despite the fact I was reading the instructions simultaneously. Go figure. I'm feeling more and more like the typical “dumb American” when I make stupid mistakes like this. Luckily, no one was around to witness my mishap. Plus, I managed to keep all the liquids contained without spilling any on myself or anything else. I just got a clump of coffee grounds floating in a cup of boiling water, thus demonstrating why proper filter placement is critical for successful coffee brewing.

On try #2, however, the coffee press lived up to it 5-star rating and positive reviews. And it turned out to be 20 times faster than waiting for an entire coffee pot to heat up...and with the “Pressing Action” you get a rich flavor characteristic of a yummy, dark espresso shot. Add some “British Vanilla Flavored Milk” from ASDA (our equivalent of Wal Mart. Classy!) and VIOLA! Instant vanilla latte! 

Today I also re-learned to look both ways when crossing the street.

Thankfully, the Brits cater to idiot tourists and put this at every intersection:

Or this, depending on the direction you're headed. Duh!

 

This is because the British drive on the wrong side of the road. Now everyone's making bets as to who will get run over by a double-decker first! 

Once you're in London most Americans should expect to stand out like a sore thumb. Thankfully, I know my way around well enough that I fit right in! I can fly around London's transport systems like a seasoned pro and have so far, even in just a few days, had a handful of people asking ME for directions. My friends and I have been into Central London a few times already and when we are I'm automatically put in charge, being the only one among us experienced enough with London life to know how to navigate around the city. 

Try figuring THAT out on your own! Actually, I love taking the tube. It's great for people watching. As you can imagine you get quite a variety of individuals riding along side you. Businessmen with briefcases and shiny black shoes to the weirdos in stained t-shirts and short shorts hauling a ripped backpack, soaked from the rain outside. Plus, you can always tell the newbie riders from the seasoned ones. Here's a hint: the newbs cling to the rails and flop around when the train starts up and moves around the corners. Basically, they cling on for dear life and then stumble out, looking self-conscious and unsure whether or not they're at the correct stop.

I've already revisited the big attractions in London; Big Ben, The London Eye, and Westminster, to name a few. Once I have a chance to go out on my own I'll cover ground I haven't in the past and begin my photo collection. So far I only have pics of my new room:

This is a bathroom (above).

My View

I look out over the Whitelands College "quad", if you will, instead of out over the street on the opposite side of the building. This is a good thing because that means I actually have a NICE view, and in the distance is the golf course, which backs up to Richmond Park, the biggest park in London. Which is actually saying something. Because the parks here are HUGE even though they're in the center of one of the biggest cities in the world. 

And now I'm basically up-to-date on everything I've been doing, since no one wants to hear about the intricacies of my social life ;)