The Magic of Gumtree, and Trickery

I miss flat-hunting.  I miss fantasy flat-hunting online, and I feel like I missed out on the thrill of flat-hunting through the streets.  Is that weird?  Don't get me wrong, I'm delighted that Jon and John and Sam found us a place.  I'm really looking forward to  moving in one month from now and exploring the neighborhood (Jon and I are probably going to wander around Clapham on Saturday to get a feel for the area).  But I was having fun searching!  That's definitely weird, isn't it?

I've found a replacement, though.  I've moved on from www.findaproperty.com to www.gumtree.com.  Sure, you can use Gumtree to search for houses and flats, too, but I use it to look for nannying jobs and bicycles.  I've moved on in my fantasy world, you see.  If I don't get one of the trillions of development jobs I've been applying for, I'll babysit full-time!  And even though I wouldn't commit to nannying until September, I need to see what's out there now, just to get a feel for things.  Also, I've always wanted to be one of those cute girls who rides around town on a vintage bike with a basket, her skirt blowing in the breeze.  You know, like in this photo:

via

(For now let's forget about the fact that I have never been and will never be "cute" and that the idea of bicycling around London terrifies me.  As does the possibility that I may not have a job come September.  Maybe Gumtree is a psychological tool I'm using to convince myself that it'll all be okay.  Hm.  Could be.) 

English Nationalism?

I was pointed to an interesting article from the Guardian, written in the aftermath of Sunday's rather humiliating loss against Germany.  Well, I say "humiliating," and Englishmen all over the country were unquestionably upset about the outcome of the match and, certainly, about the disallowed second goal scored by England, but, honestly, everyone seems to be taking the whole thing really well.  Gary Younge writes, "There is a maturity in [their] despondence."

The article isn't actually all about football, though; it's also about England's national identity.  You all know I've been thinking a lot about this recently - what is England, and who is English - and that I've been reading Jeremy Paxman's The English: A Portrait of a People.  (Still haven't finished it, but whatever.)  Younge and Paxman seem to come to at least one common conclusion: English identity, such as it exists, is a fragile thing.  Young ties English identity in with pride in the English football team, saying, "For, when England's national team ceases to exist as a viable entity - as it did at the weekend - the nation and, to some extent, its national identity goes with it."

Younge talks about the fluidity of English nationalism, especially when compared to the Welsh or the Scottish.  He points out that, according to a survey, 14% of Scots "choose 'British' as the best or only way to describe themselves," compared to 44% of English people polled.  It's funny, but having witnessed Wimbledon somewhat first-hand for the past two years I would have to agree.  I noticed last year that when Andy Murray was winning, the English claimed him as British; when he was losing, he was denounced as Scottish.  (Murray, on the other hand, feels no love for England and even barely bowed to the Queen when she came to watch a match a week or so ago.)  Similarly, it isn't usually the English who jump down my throat when I accidentally talk about a "British accent," it's the Scottish, Welsh, or Northern Irish.  The English - in my experience - don't seem to mind being lumped into a larger British identity.

This may be, Younge concludes, because the English don't have a state.  There's a British government, sure, and the Scots and the Welsh have their own Parliaments.  But the English?  They're only represented as part of the larger whole and, for the most part, I haven't heard any Englishmen raising arms about this.

I only just got here - I don't know as much about English identity or nationalism as I'd like, and I need to keep reading and asking questions and researching.  I do think it's important for me to try to figure this out, though.  After all, I live here now!

One Weekend Down

Well, the first weekend is almost over.  Jon and I are being very domestic - we just made a stir-fry and are now watching Top Gear.  This is actually the most quality time we've spent together since I got to London.  When I arrived at the airport, Jon warned me that he was coming down with something, and boy, was he ever.  He's been terribly flu-y all weekend.  Obviously I'm sad that he's been sick, but I'm also sad that he wasn't able to be out and about with me.  I have been keeping myself busy, though!

Saturday's Evensong was a blast - there were about 45 of us, and everyone was really friendly.  We sang the Finzi Mag, the Holst Nunc, and, of course, Tallis' Spem in Alium.  If you don't know, Spem is a 40-part motet, which means that there were one, sometimes two, voices on a part. I was one of the lucky sopranos who was doubled - lucky because I had never sung the piece, and had only seen the music for the first time at rehearsal on Friday night.  I'm actually very impressed with myself because I thought I'd lean much more heavily on the other soprano I was singing with, but I ended up holding my own very confidently.  We all went out after the service - it was great to be with old friends who were in town (one of those small world things) and to make new friends.  Anyway, it's a gorgeous piece - I'm going to embed it here to encourage you to listen to it!

Football fever was in full force today for the England/Germany game.  England lost pretty spectacularly, though, so I won't talk about it - I don't want to rub it in for anyone!  But now both England and the US are out of the running, so I wonder if people here and at home will be as enthusiastic about the World Cup as they were before today's match.

I've been prepping for tomorrow's job interview all evening.  They set me a task, so I have to make sure I'm prepared - wish me luck!

Jumping in the Deep End

I woke up this morning, and my first thought literally was this:

London.  I live here.

How crazy is that!?

IAD -> LHR

Well, I'm here!  After nine months of long distance with Jon, six months of planning, two months of visa nightmares - I'm in London!

My departure was fine, if sad.  Mom and I were crying on and off from the moment we got into the car to go to the airport until... well, I was still teary in the security line, long after Mom and Dad had left.  She pointed out that we'll probably communicate more now than we did when I lived at home.  She's most likely right, but I'll still miss knowing that she and Dad are around!

I ended up having to buy the option of checking a third bag (so that's $100 for two checked bags on top of the one checked bag they allow for free).  My dad made fun of me for packing so much, but I am moving my life across the ocean - damn straight I have a lot of luggage.  Humph.

The flight itself was fine, though we sat on the runway for about 30 minutes after landing because our plane didn't have a thing to taxi to.  Very frustrating.  I managed to rush through customs - the line was ages long but moved quickly - and grab my bag all in about an hour.  Jon was waiting for me at the end and we had a very Love Actually reunion - it was so wonderful to see him!  It had been four and a half months since we were last together; now we're going to be together so much we'll get sick of each other!  I can't wait.

Anyway, London.  LONDON!  I feel like I never left.  We came straight to Jon's mom's flat off Oxford Street - going Jon's house would have been terribly inconvenient for the day's schedule - which was a pain in the you-know-what because of all of my bags and all of the different transit options we ended up using.  (Last year I lived near King's Cross, which you can get to from Heathrow with a straight shot up the Picadilly Line.  I think I was spoiled.)

Jon and I spent the rest of the morning together before he had to flee to work.  Once he left, I buckled down to productivity: I went to the bank and tried to sort out my phone situation.  (Heads up: here are the nuts and bolts of living in the UK.)

Most expats have complained - absolutely understandably - about the ridiculousness of opening a bank account in the UK.  Luckily, I've had one since early October 2008, when I was here as a student.  Because of the type of account I opened I didn't have to jump through quite so many hoops as a professional would have had to, and now that I have the account I can easily just switch it to a more grownup account if I want to.    The only bummer from my bank visit was coming to the realization that my debit card had expired - I have to get a new card and a new pin number, and that will take about a week.  On the bright side, that will stop me from spending too much money because I'm hesitant to overly use my US card here.  On the downside, it complicates the phone situation.

When I was here as a student I bought the cheapest, crappiest phone I could find and worked off of a pay-as-you-go scheme.  If I hadn't met Jon that probably would have been a good idea; as it was, I spent way more than I should have because we talked and texted all the time.  Since I'm here for good now I want a real plan - it should save me a lot of money.  I went to the 02 store and the guy I talked to was very helpful - but then he told me that I need a UK debit card to get a contract.  Boo.  So I'll have to use the pay-as-you-go phone of poo for another week, or until I receive my UK card.  Then I'll go back to the store and get myself a brand new shiny BlackBerry for free with the contract!

(Side note: all the stores are having massive sales right now.  It's killing me.)

Nap time!  Jetlag's a meanie.

The Dawn's Early Light

Apologies for last night's wee-hours-of-the-morning post.  Clearly, my soul was fraught with stress and sleeplessness and crazy emotions.  But now - lo!  How soft the light through yonder window breaks!  My soul is lifted by the bright of the day, and I am happy again.

I managed to get a bit of sleep and woke up pretty refreshed, actually, and raring to start this last day in DC.  I finished packing this morning (woohoo!).  I checked in to my flight online and chose my seat.  I had to buy extra baggage allowance - you're only allowed one checked bag on Virgin Atlantic if you're in Economy, which is ridiculous - but I have so much stuff to bring over that it was absolutely necessary.  Now I'm sitting in my favorite cafe/bar/restaurant watching the USA/Algeria game.  (Go USA!)  Then I have a haircut, some last errands, and then back home to make sure I have everything together.  We leave for the airport at 3:30pm - that's so soon!

So yes, I am in a much better mood, and so excited to start my adventure in London.  See you on the flip side!

Bad Case of the Nerves

Can't sleep.  It's 3:38am - I have been awake for 52 minutes.  My stomach hurts.  I'm thirsty.

Methinks I have a bad case of the nerves.

Don't get me wrong, I want to go to London.  I'm thrilled I'm going to London.  I can't wait to get on that plane later today and go to London.

But it's all hitting me rather suddenly (it snuck up on me on Monday night) that I'm not just going - I'm actually leaving.  And that's rough.

I had my massage yesterday at Elizabeth Arden.  It was blissful.  It was so relaxing, in fact, that I cried.  Right there on the table.  The poor masseuse!  I tried to explain to her that I was moving away from my family and friends - her response was to encourage me inhale more lavender.  It did calm me down, I guess!

My last night in town was pretty perfect - except for the crying.  I had dinner with my babysitting family and Gen and Kate, two very good friends who are also, conveniently, the next-door neighbors of the babysitting family.  When I said goodbye at the end of the night, I welled up.  I managed to quell the tears pretty quicky, though no one besides me seemed embarrassed.  (The babysitting family is coming to London in July, so it was only an au revoir for them, but Gen and Kate I will miss terribly.  Kate - you're the one who made me cry!)  Then I met up with a handful of my close girlfriends from high school at a bar and had a blast learning to play poker.  Four of us ended up closing out the night by drinking wine on my friend's stoop.  It was ideal.  I managed not to cry when we all said goodbye - until.  Oh, until.  Nikki, one of my very bests, gave me a ride back to my car.  We had a pretty emotional farewell, but I did not cry.  I did not cry!  I didn't cry until I got into my car and watched her drive off down the street.  Then I put my head down on the steering wheel and sobbed.

I was a mess.  If a cop had pulled me over for distracted driving (which he would have had every right to do) he would have taken one look at my tear-stained face and assumed the worst.  It was a disaster.

But I made it home and crawled into bed - where a few tears may have leaked out onto my pillow - and tried to sleep.  Turns out I am unsuccessful at sleep tonight.  I need to sleep!  Although I suppose if I'm tired when I get on the plane in 14.5 hours I'll be more likely to sleep the whole way across the Atlantic, which would be a good thing for my sanity.  Hm, maybe I should try to stay up...

Quality Family Time

I think I'm on London time already.  I woke up at 5:30am for the second time in a row!  I know I'm excited to go to London, but this is too much - body, do you hear me?  I need my sleep!

We saw Toy Story 3 last night as a family - it's very us to have dinner at home and then to see a kids' film and to count that as quality family time!  I think we're all regressing to when Sarah and I were in elementary school.  Anyway, the movie was fantastic.  There were seriously scary parts - if I had been younger I think I would have been a little freaked out.  But then again, a lot of the scary bits were scary because they had adult themes, so maybe they would have gone over kids' heads.  Obviously - because this is a kids' movie - I sobbed for the last ten minutes straight.  (I won't tell you why, though I will tell you that it was mostly happy crying!)

Two bonus things from the film: a trailer for another funny pulls-at-your-heartstrings animated movie called Despicable Me and a cute Google ad before the movie - have you guys seen the Search Stories adverts for Google? My favorite one is "Parisian Love."  Watch it!  They did one for the new Toy Story, too, and it's adorable.

There's a bit at the end of the movie (I'm not really giving anything away here) when Andy's mom gets emotional because he's going off to college and she says something like, "I wish I could always be with you!"  I absolutely bawled - I've been so focused on how amazing London will be and how much I'm looking forward to seeing Jon that I forgot I am leaving my family.  Suddenly, at the end of the movie last night, I realized that I'm not just moving to somewhere, I'm also moving away from somewhere.  I know we have the magic of Skype (and you know I'm gonna use it like mad!) and we'll visit as often as we can, but it's not the same as being with someone every day.  I think, actually, that it will be a harder adjustment for me to not live with my parents than it was to live with them when I first moved home.  I'm really going to miss them!  Mom and Dad, if you read this - I love you so much.  (I swear I'm not tearing up as I write this... well, not much.)

Last full day in town - I've got it packed full of activities.  First up: a massage!  Then some personal appointments, a couple hours with the girls I babysit for plus dinner with their family (also to be missed like crazy, but more on that later) and then out with my girlfriends!  Luckily I'm almost all packed, so there won't be much to do tomorrow.  Must be at the airport at 4:30pm - 32.5 hours from now.

(I can't believe my first weekend in London is already chock-full of things to do, too!  Crazy.)

Notes on Moving

1.  If you're shipping a couple of boxes overseas, go old school and use the post office.  USPS charged me $150 less than UPS would have - so worth the extra week it will take for the boxes to arrive!  (Of course, if you're actually moving your whole house you should use a company, and I am the wrong girl to ask about that.)

2.  Don't pack any clothes you haven't worn in the past six months.  You didn't wear it then, you won't wear it now.  For that matter, don't own any clothes you haven't worn in the past six months - or that don't fit you.  Give them to friends or to a consignment shop or to charity.  Seriously, you don't want to lug that "if I just lose x pounds I'll fit into it" dress across an ocean.

3.  Ask yourself what you'll really need from home to start a new life.  Your chosen county will have most of what you'd be bringing over - save yourself the luggage weight by buying new things there.  I'm talking about shampoo and bedsheets and alarm clocks.  Actually, your American alarm clock won't work in the UK anyway - most electronics won't, so you might as well splurge and get new ones once you arrive!  (Plus, that way you have the fun of exploring new shops!)

That's all I can think of for now!  More to follow, I'm sure.

At Long Last...

MY PASSPORT/VISA is physically and literally and other concrete adjectives BY MY SIDE.

It has arrived.

Glory, glory, hallelujah.

Last Days in Town

I think I've been subscribing to the childish idea that the earlier you go to bed, the sooner you'll wake up and find that it's tomorrow!  I was zonked yesterday - I babysat for nine glorious hours, four of which were pool- and sun-filled and very draining - but also I was in a hurry for it to be Monday, and so I went to bed at 8:30pm.  I didn't think my sneaky let-it-be-tomorrow-now plan through, though, and was very surprised to wake up at 6am.  Oops.

Obviously, the reason I wanted it to be Monday is because my visa arrives on Monday!  I've been tracking the UPS package sent by the consulate in New York, and apparently it left Laurel (my local UPS depot, I guess) at 6:26am to be delivered!  I'll definitely have it in my hands today.  Woohoo!

Man, I've got a lot to do to get ready to leave on Wednesday.  I was talking to a new friend recently who is also moving to London, and we were marveling at the fact that we're moving our entire lives across an ocean.  It's quite a feat to accomplish!  There are so many little things that you accumulate over the years, so many bits and bobs - just the ephemera of life - that it's impossible to take with you.  I suppose that I'll begin a new collection of little nothings that mean something once I get to London, but it's hard to leave them behind in DC.  (Another friend is moving to San Francisco today - she's packing her car and driving west!  I so admire her for that.  Especially for the "packing her car" part!)

So today I have to wait at home until the UPS package arrives - it must be signed for, and I don't want to risk not being at home when it shows up at my doorstep.  I've got plenty to do here, though.  I'll be shipping two boxes over to London today filled with photos and cookbooks and things that I won't need right away but that I know I won't be able to live without.  (The boxes are very heavy and will cost a fortune to ship.  Oh, well, it will be worth it to open them on the other side of the ocean!)

Besides these two boxes that I'm shipping I will be bringing over on the plane two big suitcases, the biggest carryon I can get away with, and a huge purse.  (Traditionally, in my overseas moves, the big carryon has held all of my shoes.  It's a good way of packing!  Plus, if the shoes are in my carryon I know they won't get lost, which would be a tragedy.)  I'm not ready to completely pack the two big suitcases - I 'll start today and finish tomorrow- but what I will do today is put aside in neat piles all of my winter clothes.  My mom might be coming to London for business in late September, and if she does she'll bring a suitcase full of cold weather stuff that I won't need now but will then.  I want to make it as easy as possible for her since she's doing me such a huge favor.

Then there're all the things I have to check off my to-do list and all the errands I have to run.  It's going to be a busy two-and-a-half days!

Tonight is family night: we're going to have a nice dinner at home and then see Toy Story 3 (in 3D!).  Tomorrow - my last night in town - I'll have dinner with my babysitting family, which is really my second family, and then will go out with my girlfriends.  It'll be the perfect ending.

Speaking of endings and beginnings, by the way, happy summer!

Happy Father's Day!

Wishing all dads out there - and my dad especially - a very happy Father's Day!  Mom, Dad, and I had a lovely lunch together today (Sarah's in New York for the weekend) and tomorrow the four of us are going to see Toy Story 3 and have a last family dinner before I go off to London.

There are lots of great father/daughter songs, but this moment from The Sound of Music is hands down one of my favorites.

Flat Found!

First piece of good news: my visa has been issued!  It should arrive at my house on Monday, which means I can fly out on Wednesday!

Second piece of good news: Jon and John and Sam found us a flat!  (We paid the holding fee, so it's officially off the market.  It's ours!)

Actually, they found us two flats, and decided on one - how nice is it to have a choice!  The one we choose is lovely; it gets lots of light and has gorgeous common areas.  It's in a nice residential area between Clapham and Wandsworth but, apparently, close enough to fun bars and restaurants and shops and only ten/fifteen minutes from a big Tescos.  The master bedroom - which goes to me and Jon - is huge.  There are two other double bedrooms, one a good size and the other smaller but livable.  We're going to get a futon, too, so that we can have guests stay over.  (Come visit!)

Obviously I haven't seen it yet - I wasn't able to visit with the boys - and I won't be able to see it until we move in because the current occupants will be there right up until we take it over in early August.  But the photos are very appealing and Jon and I are going to walk around the neighborhood on Saturday so I can get a feel for the area.  It looks promising - I'm excited!

Visa Success!

MY VISA WAS ISSUED!  It should be delivered on Monday.  I am over the moon - YAY!

You all were right - the joy of getting my visa totally outweighs the stresses of the past two months!  Thanks for all your support along the way.

London, here I come!

Gilbert Love, Part 2 (Homesickness)

Can one be homesick for two places at once?  I'm finding myself in the strangest of situations: I'm homesick for London, and I'm homesick for DC.  Yes, I know this is strange: I haven't yet made a home in London, and I'm still in DC.  Let me try to explain.

I think I'm homesick for the home that I will have in London.  I'm homesick for the life that I will make there.  I'm homesick for the flat that we will have, the job I will hold, the friends I will embrace.  I suppose that this could just be called longing, but it feels the same way homesickness does - and what is homesickness but longing?

In the same way, I'm homesick for DC the way it was before I started this whole visa process.  I'm homesick for my wonderful job and my amazing colleagues, for comfortable mornings in the kitchen with Mom and Dad, for spontaneous happy hour outings with friends, and for the routine I took for granted.  I've talked before about how I feel I'm in limbo while waiting for my visa, and somehow that feels physical as well as emotional.

I'm going to quote Elizabeth Gilbert's Committed again here - bear with me.

"I was feeling - more than I had ever felt in my life, or maybe even for the first time in my life - homesick.  As in: sick for a home.  I longed like mad for a house, an address, a small private location of our own.  I longed to liberate my books from storage and alphabetize them on shelves.  I dreamed of adopting a pet, of visiting my old shoes, or living close to my sister and her family... "Make no plans," our immegration lawyer kept repeating, but still, I could not help myself.  I dreamed of plans.  Floor plans."  (92-93)

This isn't the first time I've felt like this.  I blogged about it in Paris when I was 20.  Uprooted, I said I felt then.  It's funny, I don't feel uprooted now.  I feel very rooted.  The problem is that I feel rooted in London - and I'm not there.

Like Gilbert, I'm being told not to make plans.  (The consulate was very clear when they told me not to book a flight until I knew for sure when/if I would have my visa.)  And, again like Gilbert, I'm making plans.  Floor plans.

Jon and John and Sam have been actively flat-hunting - I've helped as I can from abroad by relentlessly searching for properties online - and I may have something positive to report on that front very soon.  Stay tuned!

Bits and Bobs

Am home sick tonight - was supposed to go to see Mrs. Warren's Profession at the Shakespeare Theatre tonight with my friend Alex, but literally couldn't stomach leaving the house.  Boh.  Think I'll use this opportunity on the couch to catch up on some bits and bobs that I've wanted to share here for a while but hadn't had the opportunity to yet.

Newsweek article on the evolution of English into a global language.  I took a class in college called Human Communication (very interesting, even though I didn't do too well) and I remember the professor complaining about grammar purists.  Now, I'm definitely a grammar snob, but what he said made sense if I'm remembering it correctly.  He essentially told us that language is supposed to mutate over time, and that that's the mark of a successful language because if a language doesn't change over time it will eventually die.  So when sticklers for the "correct" use of a language insist on the strict maintenance of rules for that language they are really burying it.  Interesting!

Gorgeous photo shoot for the July issue of US Vogue starring Ewan McGregor, whom I have always loved, and Natalia Vodianova.  I'm crazy about the '50s styling - the 1950s has always been one of my favorite eras for clothes.  Maybe that's part of the reason I like Mad Men so much!  You can find the whole shoot here,  but this is my favorite image from it.  Love love love the blue Vera Wang dress - and the James Dean bartender!  Ewan, you've got competition for my heart!

NY Times article (that hit a bit close to home) about those of us in our 20s taking longer to grow up than previous generations.  I've always considered myself independent, but I have been living in my parents' house for the past year and accepting - gratefully - their generosity.  I suppose there are different kinds of independence...

Think that's about it!  Goodnight, all.

Rocking Out

The concert last night at Wolf Trap was absolutely amazing!  Great friends, great music, great weather - what a wonderful way to take my mind off of everything.  (If you haven't been to Wolf Trap, go!  Even if you're just visiting DC - it's so worth it.  Such a great venue.)

My friend Liz organized the whole evening as a last hurrah before she and her boyfriend move to San Francisco.  We were a fun bunch of nine - we all brought blankets and picnic food and wine and made a party of the night.  (I made lamb and my favorite orzo salad with feta and tomatoes.)  There was eating and drinking and lots of general merriment - and that was even before the John Butler Trio started!

Oh man, the John Butler Trio.  They.  Were.  Fantastic.  We listened to their CD in the car and I liked them, though I wasn't terribly bowled over.  But live - live they were electric.  I have to admit I don't know which were my favorite songs since I wasn't familiar enough with the band to recognize any, but there was one instrumental piece that was wild.  I found it on YouTube:

Isn't it incredible?  So much energy!  Yowza.  Needless to say, we were on our feet the whole time they were playing, dancing away like banshees.  (Do banshees dance?  Or do they just howl?  Oh well.)

What a great night - thank you, friends!

Gilbert Love, Part 1 (Forced Optimism)

Today I woke up to an inquisitive email from a prospective employer in London.  It's amazing what that and an early morning field trip to the gym can do to one's outlook!

I finished Committed, by Elizabeth Gilbert, on the bus yesterday.  I didn't love it - I generally go for fiction with meaty plots, and this is an autobiographical study of marriage over time around the world - but, somehow, it really spoke to me.  Maybe this is because I find parallels between my situation and hers.  Gilbert and her boyfriend are essentially "sentenced to wed" (her words, not mine) by Homeland Security when they refuse to allow him entry to the United States as a tourist; if they want to live together in America they must get married.  They roam the world - luckily, they have the funds to do so - for months, waiting for their application for his fiancé visa to be approved, enduring bureaucratic snafu after bureaucratic snafu.

Okay, so what I'm going through is nothing like that, except that I need a visa to be with the man I love and am suffering through bureaucratic nonsense to get said visa.  Point conceded.

But her writing is so welcoming and warm and her approach to some things (some, definitely not all) that life throws at her is so much like mine that I feel kindred spirits with her.  I imagine that many women feel that way - that's what marks Gilbert's success as a writer - but this blog is about me!

I had been thinking even before I finished the book that this blog has been sort of bipolar recently; I've vented my frustrations one day and then sung about my brilliant outlook the next.  And then I read this, which sums up perfectly how I'm dealing with my visa issues:

"I, in turn, reacted to his befouled humor the way I'd been taught by my mother to react to a man's befouled humor: by becoming only more cheerful, more upbeat, more obnoxiously chipper.  I buried my own frustrations and homesickness under a guise of indefatigable optimism, barreling forth with an aggressively sunny demeanor, as though I could somehow force Felipe into a state of lighthearted gladness by the sheer power of my magnetic, tireless merrymaking." (p. 207-208)

Substitute "my/myself" for "his/Felipe," and you've got a pretty accurate picture of what's going on in my head.  I'm working very hard convincing myself that there are reasons to be sunny and cheerful and, usually, I am successful.  I'm sure I will have a catastrophic meltdown at some point soon when it all gets too overwhelming, but for now you all will have to read about my efforts to trick myself into "indefatigable optimism."

This doesn't mean that I'm not taking the kind words I'm receiving from all of you to heart - I am, and thank you for them.  I just don't know how else to deal.  This has been my modus operandi for years!

To that end, I am going to have a wonderful day.  I am going to make myself have a wonderful day.  And tonight: the John Butler Trio at Wolf Trap with friends!

Moaning v. Complaining, and Taking Control

"Visitors to Britain are rarely able to grasp - sometimes even after decades of residency - the vital distinction its inhabitants make between complaining and moaning.  The two activities seem similar, but there is a profound philosophical and practical difference.  To complain about something is to express dissatisfaction to someone whom you hold responsible for an unsatisfactory state of affairs; to moan is to express the same thing to someone other than the person responsible.  The British are powerfully embarrassed by complaining... They do love to moan, though... Moaning, a source of entertainment in its own right, is also an important psychic blanket, a way of venting resentment without taking responsibility for effecting change."
- John Lanchester, "Letter from London: Party Games," The New Yorker


The above excerpt is from a New Yorker article about the outcome of the recent British election, though I liked it mostly for this first paragraph.  Lanchester goes on to intimate that while moaning is a British thing, complaining is the default position for Americans, who are much more proactive than the British when they don't like something.

I don't know if this is fair as a universal statement, but for me it is true.  I don't like moaning.  I don't find it productive.  I complain plenty, but I like my complaining to have a purpose and, hopefully, an outcome.  That's partially why I'm finding this whole visa debacle so frustrating: I can't complain successfully.  I have tried to complain, but I have gotten nowhere.  I have failed at finding the parties responsible for my frustration and holding them to account.  Well, I found them, but they have been elusive and sneaky and not responsive and un-hold-accountable.  Yargh.  (Question: is this because they are British and therefore unused to complainers?  Or because they work in America and know how to avoid complainers?  Hm.)

Anway, I am definitely a type A girl.  I like to know what's going on, I like to know when things are going to happen, and I like to know why things happen as they do.  I like to be in control.  (You know this about me, friends, you do, and for that I am sorry!)  Clearly, none of these likes are being satisfied by the visa process that I am going through, which is part of the reason I'm so frustrated.  Patience has never been my forte - I am incapable of just sitting and waiting!

What then can I do?  It's pretty obvious that I can't do anything about the visa situation.  I need to find something I can control, like my emotional and physical well-being.  The past two months of visa stress have totally taken a toll on both.  Emotionally I've been a mess: I've been on the shortest fuse - apologies to anyone who has been around me when I've exploded - and I've had a hard time focusing on non-visa-related things, including my relationships.  Physically... well, I've gained ten pounds since this whole thing started at the beginning of May.  I've been eating junk (and too much of it) and have not been exercising.    Both of these things are going to change today!  (Or, well, I started trying to change them yesterday, but whatever.  "Today" sounds more emphatic.)

I'm going to be more relaxed - I'm going to breathe more and deeper - I'm going to focus on my friends and my family.  I'm going to eat better and exercise more.  I'm going to take care of myself.  This, my friends, I can control.  Consider this my complaint to myself - it is my fault I am dissatisfied with my emotional and physical well-being, and I am going to make a change!

Monday in New York

I am in a very good mood today, which is surprising because things lately have not been going my way, as you know.  What might be the cause of my excellent humor?  I will tell you.

a) I am in New York!  My family is from here, I went to college here, I have friends here - the city is a home to me.  I wouldn't want to live here for my whole life, but I feel like I belong here anyway.  The energy of the city infuses me with... well, with energy, even though the weather is pretty dull.  I'm only here until Tuesday afternoon, so if you're here and I am not seeing you, forgive me, but I don't have much time.

b) I went to the gym this morning, something I am going to make a concerted effort to do much more often.  I went last Thursday, mostly because my sister peer pressured me into going with her, but other than that I really hadn't been in months.  Exercising really does increase your endorphins, or whatever scientific thing it is that it does to make you happy!

c) I stopped by the British consulate.  I was unable to speak to anyone official - the visa office is, apparently, always closed - but the guy I did speak to was very nice and helpful and called to talk to the official person upstairs (whomever he may be) on my behalf.  The answer from upstairs was pretty much exactly what I expected: I just have to wait.  This could have massively bummed me out, but I decided I wasn't going to let it.  I decided to think, "I did something.  I could have sat on my butt and been frustrated by the consulate's seeming inaction, but instead I got up and went out and did something.  I went to the consulate.  I asked for answers.  I didn't get any, but I was proactive, and that's what matters."  I'm still working on believing that, but I'm getting there!

d) Jon and the boys are going to look at properties tomorrow.  We will be moving in early August (fingers crossed) and so we have about six weeks to find a place, which is plenty of time as the London property market moves.  Jon's showed me a few of the properties online, and they look very promising.   I'm sad I won't be there, but excited that they're getting a start on the process.

Those are four happy-inducing things.  I like these four things.  Yay for these four things!

Happy Monday to all of you, too!

Draw!

Did you watch the USA/England World Cup match today?  Jon and I had quite a fierce text message battle going on during the game.

Jon @ 2:36 - You want to turn the TV off now x

Betsy @ 3:13 - Oops, your bad.

Jon @ 4:25 - Probably the best result for our relationship x

In case you didn't watch, what our exchange narrates is the goal that England scored in the first five minutes, the USA goal that English keeper Green let slip through his hands just before the end of the first half, and then the outcome: a draw at 1-1.  It was a very exciting game to watch, if frustrating at times.  I have to admit, soccer/football is one of my favorite spectator sports.  It's so easy to get into the game!  I don't know what the draw means for the rest of the World Cup or US/English relations, but I can say this: thank God we didn't lose!

If you did watch the match and were confused or if you plan to watch future matches and need to bone up on your soccer/football rules, let me point you to The Onion's Interactive Introduction to World Cup Soccer.  It's very funny - and sort of true!  (Thanks, Jon, for sharing.  Your condescension is very sexy, really.)

I did a whole Polyvore board to try to find red/white/blue clothes and accessories to wear to watch the game, but then I realized that England's colors are red and white and so I'd blend in with any unlucky England supporters who happened to be in the bar.  I redid the board when I learned that the USA players would be wearing white and blue.  This is what I came up with:

[ dress / sunglasses / bag / shoes ]

Love the military buttons on the dress - a good way to remind the English that we beat them in 1776 and 1812.  The sunglasses are classic Hollywood, and the Michael Kors bag is pure Americana - love how structured it is!  And it can fit my life, which is nice.  The shoes - well, I guess they're part of the militant look.  Mostly I just like them, even if the only Kurt Geiger stores I have ever seen have been in England.  (Oops.  Sorry, America.)

And if you're wondering: no, I wasn't conflicted while cheering for the USA.  The UK is being very inhospitable to me, and so I had no desire to cheer for one of the countries that makes up Great Britain!  Humph.

Life Flows Better With Visa

(Post title - Visa's new advertising campaign, an advert for which you can see here.  No, Visa's not paying me to share this; I just think it's cute.  Another fun World Cup ad, this time for Nike, can be found here.  More on the World Cup will be posted tomorrow.  And, as you will understand when you reach the bottom of this email, this post title is meant ironically.)

I had been having a good day today.  I really had.  I slept in luxuriously.  I called the service that the consulate uses and spoke to a very nice, if not very helpful, woman, which made me feel slightly more in control of the visa situation.  I went to the National Building Museum to help my friend Alex, who works for the Washington Wine Academy, set up for tonight's Toast of the Town wine and restaurant tasting event, which I was really looking forward to attending.  I had a lovely long Skype date with Jon.

And then I got an email from the consulate.  Yay, I thought.  An email!  News!

I can't copy and past the email here in case the consulate somehow finds out and denies my visa because of privacy issues, but basically it said that they have to do more research on my visa and they estimate it will take up to twenty business days from today for a decision to be made.

TWENTY BUSINESS DAYS.

OMFG, as Gossip Girl would say.

There's a sinking feeling in my stomach that says that this wait is not a good sign.  I'm rapidly losing my positive outlook on this whole situation.

1. Twenty business days from today is July 9 - that's a full month away.
2. I'm going to have to completely scrap my flight - that's $1200 down the drain.
3. Another flight will have to be purchased - that's another $800 gone, maybe.
4. Jon and the boys will have to start house hunting without me.
5. This is another month in which I'm unemployed, essentially, and not making much money.

These are the first five "oh crap" outcomes of this situation that I can think of.  I'm sure I can come up with more.

[Expletive.]

Jon's being a darling about the whole thing, obviously, but he's just as frustrated as I am.  We both feel so powerless!  I have to be careful to not take my frustration out on him, because it's not his fault at all, but I definitely sometimes feel overwhelmed by what's going on.

I'm still going to go to New York - seeing my friends up there will be lovely - but I'm not sure there's any point anymore in even trying to go to the consulate.  I did email them back asking why there was a holdup - why my application demands further enquiries - but I don't expect a response.  We'll see.

Yargh.  Yargh times 10 to the nth degree.

Summer Dreaming

Visa update:  I received an email from the service that the British consulate uses telling me that my application is still being processed.  They didn't give me any sort of time frame.  I'm going to call later this afternoon and demand at least an estimate as to when I might receive a solid yes or no - I can't wait in this limbo any longer! We've way exceeded the estimated 10 business days these things usually take (and that was the outside time frame they gave me) and so I feel comfortable putting my foot down a bit.  If I haven't heard anything more by close of business on Friday I'm going to head up to New York and face down the consulate first thing on Monday morning.  I need to know what's going on - what the [expletive] could the hold-up be?

But let's keep thinking positively.  I could get the visa any time in the next nine days and still make my flight.  So: let's talk summer in the UK.

(Note: this is an idealized summer, one in which I have a job contract that starts at the beginning of September and an infinite wallet and endless days until then.)

We'd be based in London for the summer, obviously, and the weather would be as beautiful as it was last summer.  (Last summer in London was glorious - totally unseasonable - consistently sunny and warm, even hot sometimes!  I've been spoiled, and expect to be sorely disappointed this summer.  But this is an ideal summer, so I can fantasize about the weather.)  I'd nanny during the week because I love working with kids and to make some extra cash.  We'd live London - mornings wandering around museums, afternoons picnicking in Hyde Park, nights dancing at the Blues Bar.  Weekends we'd trip gaily to Paris, Lisbon, Venice.  August we'd mostly spend in Suffolk with Jon's family, walking over the heath (Jon's mother is determined to make me a walker), taking in the sea air in Aldeburgh, and generally enjoying the countryside.  Of course, we'd have our new house/flat with the boys by then, so we couldn't be exclusively in Suffolk for the month; I'd have to spend some time in London making the house/flat our own so that when I started work in September it would feel like a home.  I'd have to scour flea markets and home decorating stores (oh, Habitat, how I miss thee!) for great finds to complete the place, which would come partially/mostly furnished.  My birthday weekend (29 August is a Sunday, dontcha know) would be a fab end to the summer - but no, I won't plan that now!

Ah, what a wonderful summer I have in front of me - in my dreams, at least!

Londoners out there: any recommendations for things to do and/or places to go?

Update: Just called the service that the consulate uses again, and they said there's nothing further they can do.  I have to wait for the consulate to contact me.  It looks like I'll be going up to New York this weekend.  Yay for seeing my Columbia friends, but boo to this being necessary.

Time Hypnotizes

"No matter how hard you try to be what you once were, you can only be what you are here and now.  Time hypnotizes.  When you're nine, you think you've always been nine years old and will always be.  When you're thirty, it seems you've always been balanced there in that bright rim of middle life.  And then when you turn seventy, you are always and forever seventy.  You're in the present, you're trapped in a young now or an old now, but there is no other now to be seen."
- Dandelion Wine, Ray Bradbury

Edits, Continued

I can't stop thinking about this concept of blog-as-definition-of-the-self.  Questions have been gallivanting through my head very mischievously.  What is motivating this blog?  What does it want to say?

The first question is easy to answer: life.  As Disney-Channel-cheesy as that is, it's true.  Life is motivating this blog.  I'm inspired by so many things, including the daily and the banal, and I want to share it all with you.  I want to share my life with you!  Not because I think it's extraordinary - it's not - but because it is an adventure, and adventures are worth sharing.

The second question is harder to answer.  The blog wants to say everything.  It is galumphing and tearing on into the wild wonderful in a way that I don't always control.  That sounds funny, doesn't it?  Shouldn't I be able to decide what I write?  Well, yes, I should, but no, I can't, mostly because I don't know what I want the mission if this blog to be.  The blog is writing itself, not I it.

That should be okay.  It is essentially okay, I think.  There's nothing wrong with a blog having a life of its own.  I should be okay with that.  I think I can be okay with that.  I just need to get used to the idea.

I've been going back over my Paris blog these past few hours (I am funemployed now, you know, and am a lady of leisure) and wondering why I didn't feel metaphysically stressed out and exhilarated by writing that blog.  I think it may be because I hadn't discovered the world of blogging - the community of bloggers that I now know and love.  It was a very private blog, read only by family and close friends.  And the blogs I read, for the most part, were written by family and friends.  They knew who I was, and I didn't have to struggle to define myself.

I guess that having a blog is like going to a new place and reinventing yourself - or, at least, having the opportunity to reinvent yourself.  The problem is, I don't want to reinvent myself.  I just want to be myself!  That shouldn't be hard, right?  I generally know who I am - this really shouldn't be hard.

AHA!  Aha.  I have had a revelation, just now, while typing.  All of these questions of identity - they're springing from the state of limbo in which I currently find myself (and no, I haven't heard anything from the consulate regarding my visa).  I'm so excited to begin my new life in London and, to a certain extent, I'm excited to end this chapter of my life here in DC.  The problem is, I'm living in a protracted ending, and that is not good for me!  I don't know how to define myself through this blog because I don't know how to define myself in this in-between-place of frustration and yargh.  I think - I hope - that means that when I get to London (or at least when I know what the [expletive] is going on with my visa) this blog and I will both have more focus.

Man.  I apologize for the meta-ness of this post.  If you've gotten this far, congratulations.  (And if you've gotten this far, can you tell me if you wonder about these things, too, please?)

I'm not a butterflies girl - sorry, Mariah Carey - but I do like this print that I found while browsing Etsy.  Translated, it says: "It is never too late to be whom you want to be."  The message seemed appropriate for today.

via

Edits

I deleted yesterday's post because - well, it didn't feel like me.  It felt contrived.  I mean, I believed what I wrote, but who are we kidding?  This is a blog about me, as egotistical as that may be, not about interior decorating.  If you're here for how I plan to decorate my new flat in the fall, welcome!  I will share all of the trials and tribulations of flat hunting and flat decorating alongside three boys as my partners in crime.  But if you're here for tips on how to decorate your house, you need to be redirected to somewhere - anywhere - else.

A dear friend began a blog recently, and in an early post she mused that she was reconsidering her take on food blogs.  "A few months ago," she writes, "I might’ve hailed food blogs as the be-all, end-all in online procrastination entertainment. Today, at the wizened age of 24-and-five-months, I am here to say: not so! Food blogs are a dime a dozen, and seem to inspire an obsessive, gnawing urge to either a) cook b) eat or c) define yourself by your interpretation and inspiration with regards to a and b."  I don't disagree with her. I really don't.  And I have to admit to reading food blogs and succumbing to a, b, and c.  But whereas El Bruns seems to frown on c, I don't think that there's anything wrong with it.  The issue is what you do with said interpretation and inspiration.

I've been thinking a lot about personal identity recently, in part because of a book I'm reading called The English: A Portrait of a People by Jeremy Paxman.  The questions he seeks to answer in this book - which I am not finished reading and thus cannot yet provide you with the answer(s) - are these: "Who are the English?  How do we define them?  How do they define themselves?"  He prefaces the book with the complaint that "Being English used to be so easy…  It is all so much more complicated now."  The chapter I just finished, "Funny Foreigners," makes the point that, due in large part to their insular island mentality, "It is hard to escape the conclusion that, deep down, the English don't really care for foreigners."

I took a class on power and identity in the Middle Ages (called, funnily enough, Power and Identity in the Middle Ages) in grad school in which we discussed "the other" as a point of reference in defining the people about whom we were learning; essentially, the class agreed, we define ourselves in relation to those around us.  Therefore, we define ourselves by defining others; for instance, she is tall, I am taller.  However, I also think that we define ourselves by our reaction to the environment around us - or, as my friend El Bruns would say, by our interpretation and inspiration in regard to the environment around us. There's nothing wrong with this; in fact, I don't think we can help it.  It's not second nature, it is nature.  We react to everything and everyone around us - it's a Darwinian thing.  That doesn't make self definition good or bad or true or false.  It just makes it our own.

So how does this relate to blogging and the deletion of yesterday’s post?  Here’s how: I have to admit that I read other blogs and define myself in relation to them.  Now, I know I’m no Apartment Therapy or Tiny-Ass Apartment, but I read those sites and ones like them and I think, "I could do that."  And, honestly, maybe I could.  But it's not who I am - it's not how I define myself.  I define myself as many things, and I like most of them.  But what I don't like is me demanding I define myself competitively.  Just because they do it - whatever it is - doesn't mean that I have to do it.

In posting yesterday I challenged myself to rethink my own self-definition.  I liked it for a while - or maybe I made myself like it for a while.  But, after a good night's sleep, I realized that it's not me, and it's not this blog.  I want this blog to be a projection of how I define myself, not a projection of how I want others to define me.  You take this blog and you make whatever definition you want for me - go ahead, it's natural.  But for my own piece of mind, I need this blog to be me, to be my definition of myself.

So I delete yesterday's post - and I give you an essay.  That's much more my style!

Lazy Sunday

So no, I am not packing today.  I haven't heard anything about my visa.  I called the service that the British consulate uses for its visa stuff on Friday, and they opened an inquiry into the status of my application with the consulate.  They said I should hear back from the consulate on Monday.  (How rediculous is that, by the way? I have to contact a third party just to request a status update from the consulate - I won't necessarily find out if I've been approved, I'll just find out where I am in the process.  Seems pretty convoluted to me...)  The chances of me making my flight on Tuesday are pretty much nil at this point.  Not sure to when I should change it though!  I'd like to think this can't take more than another week, and I obviously want to fly out as soon as I get my passport back, but I don't want to be overly optimistic and then have to change the flight a third time.  Maybe I'll make it for the 18th?  That's twelve days away.  I have to get my visa by then, right?  Right?  Yargh!

Today's a bit of a lazy day.  I have some errands to do, but mostly I've been napping and watching Glee on Hulu (gotta get caught up before the season finale on Tuesday, natch).  I have to admit that I'm not too motivated to be productive; I can do things during my weekdays now that I'm unemployed.  Or funemployed, as the kids are calling it these days!  I give it three days before the fun wears off, though, and I spend my time stomping around and snapping at people.  I don't do well without routine or structure!

The wine festival was lots of fun yesterday, though it was hot as... well, it was hot.  The place was mobbed and all the tasting stations had lines six people deep, so Nikki and I sort of circumvented the whole process by tasting the wines from one vintner, buying a bottle of the wine we liked best, and then sitting on the grass in front of the stage and drinking it while jamming to the live jazz.  (This may or may not have happened more than once...)  I'm glad we both dressed casually, though, because it was much more like a county fair than what I expected from a wine event!    There were tons of tents for all the wineries, of course, but there were also tents for fair food like corn dogs and funnel cakes and soft serve ice cream and things.  Kids were running around everywhere - the demographic was mostly people under 40, I'd guess - and people had brought lawn chairs and coolers and I even saw a group of guys playing cornhole!

Since I generally find fair food totally disgusting, I packed a picnic of noodles in peanut sauce and cabbage salad for us.  I'd never made the noodle dish before, but it was yum - and so good cold on the hot day!

via

Cold Peanut Sesame Noodles

1 lbs whole wheat spaghetti
1 seedless cucumber
5 scallions, chopped
2 tsp white sesame seeds, toasted
2 tbs natural peanut butter (has less sugar than the normal kind!)
2 tbs rice vinegar
3 tablespoons tahini
2 tbs soy sauce
1 tbs sugar
1/2 tsp red pepper flakes
1 tbs garlic
1 tsp ginger paste

While the pasta is cooking, peel the cucumber and slice it into thin strips.  Whisk the last eight ingredients together until well blended - I found it easier to whisk after microwaving the mixture for twenty seconds.  When the pasta is cooked, drain and rinse under cold water.  Add to the bowl with the sauce and toss to coat.  Add the cucumber, scallions, and sesame seeds, and toss again.  This dish should be made ahead and refrigerated - it's fine at room temperature but even better cold!

Birds and French Fries

I'm trying very hard to have a more positive outlook on this visa situation.  We're headed home in a few hours, and it may be - it may be! - that my passport is waiting for me at the door.  It may be.

We saw a cute sign in a shop window in St. Michael's the other night, and I'm going to adopt it as my mantra for today:

via

Today I will be happier than a bird with a French fry!  Yes.  I will be.  Today I will be happier than a bird with a French fry.

And even if my visa isn't at my doorstep - which it might be - I have lots of nice things to look forward to.  I will be babysitting for my favorite girls all afternoon and evening today.  Tomorrow I'll be going to a wine festival in Virginia with two of my besties - wine and a picnic and live music, oh my!  And then - if my visa has arrived - I will pack all day Sunday.  I would like to be packing all day Sunday.  I would like to need to be packing all day Sunday.  Oh please, let me need to be packing all day Sunday!

I will be happier than a bird with a French fry.  I will.

Out of Positive Thoughts

It is another beautiful day at the shore: I'm on the porch, the sun is shining, the humidity is bearable (that's really all you can hope for in Maryland), and the breeze is flirting with my hair.  It's noon and I've already laid out by the pool, taken a quick nap, wandered along the beach, and made myself a yummy breakfast of scrambled eggs and sausage.

I am totally stressed the [expletive] out.

I knew I'd be stressed today.  Last night I tried to put myself in a zen mood to prepare myself for today.  I sipped a glass of wine, I enjoyed the sunset, I went to bed early...

All to no avail.  I slept terribly and woke up at 7:30am, restless as can be.  I've been keeping myself as busy as possible in the hope of distracting myself.  It's not working.

All I can think about is how I have heard nothing about my visa!

I received an email on Wednesday, 19 May from the consulate in New York saying that the processing time for my visa was estimated to be between five and ten business days and that they would email me when a decision was made.  Today is business day ten, and I have heard nothing.  Nothing!  What does this mean?  I thought my visa was a relatively simple thing - I'm eligible, and I did everything right.  I'm totally freaking out that they haven't emailed me yet.  WHAT DOES THIS MEAN?

Okay, breathe, Betsy.  There's a very slim chance that they haven't emailed me but they have mailed my passport back to me.  There's a very slim chance that it arrived at my doorstep while I've been at the shore.  There's a very slim chance that when I get home tomorrow it will be waiting for me.

Oh, please, let that be what happened!  I am totally freaking out here!  I want my visa!  I want to go to London and live happily ever after!  Yargh.