I'm not really sure if this is an American thing or just a 'me' thing, but before I met my hubs I never really realized how different British and American cultures are. This probably sounds dumb, but I always just thought, 'Oh, we speak the same language, so it must be pretty similar.' (I also had never been to the U.K. before meeting Hubs, so that may have contributed to my naivete.)
When we started dating, I began noticing tons of ways in which we were different. Certain things would come up in conversation, and he would say, 'Oh, that's a British thing.' But it's really hard to know what traits are specific to an individual and what traits are more representative of a culture.
But after being here awhile, there are definitely some things I'm noticing that are starting to make sense. For one, Americans are much more direct about everything. I remember shortly after I met Hubs' mom for the first time, I sent her an email about something and copied him on it. He wrote back to just me and admitted that he thought my email was a bit rude. I was completely shocked (and embarrassed) because I thought it was a very generic email, and I was definitely not trying to be rude -- but apparently something about the way I asked questions wasn't polite enough.
Now fast-forward a few years, and I can finally see where he's coming from. It seems no one can just ask a direct question here. For example, instead of saying 'Do you want to go to dinner on Saturday?' you might say: 'Well I was thinking of eating dinner on Saturday night... and I didn't know if maybe you were also going to be eating dinner that night, and if you're not too busy... but I completely understand if you can't make it...'
And the same goes with confronting people. Whether it's due to bad customer service or just a rude stranger, Brits will rarely admit when they're displeased. I had noticed this about my hubs when we first started dating -- although he's actually become much more outspoken since then. But it's become clear that this is a trend. Case in point: We went to the Kensington Roof Gardens last Saturday night, and we ended up waiting in a massive queue. (Brits love a good queue.) After about 20 minutes of waiting, another couple got out of a taxi, walked up to the line and just casually slipped in ahead of the couple right in front of us. And what did they do? Yep. Nothing. That would definitely not fly in New York.
Wednesday, August 14, 2013
Monday, August 12, 2013
A Long Hiatus
So it turns out living in a new city and starting a new job at the same time tends to make a person very busy. Also very stressed. But either way, I've pretty much been shit at this whole blogging thing. But hey, better late than never.
Another handy excuse for my complete abandonment of Streaky Bacon Struggles? It's actually been a gorgeous summer here. I've learned very quickly that English people love talking about the weather, so I've had tons of conversations about the lovely sunshine. I've also learned that English people have no idea what a real heat wave is. I mean, they issued actual heat warnings when the temperatures teetered around 85 degrees -- a perfect summer's day, if you ask me.
But enough about the weather. (God, I'm British already.) It feels very strange that we've been here nearly 3 months already. I do feel much more settled: We've moved into our new flat. I have a pretty strong grasp on public transportation. (I've even gotten over my New York-bred hatred of buses.) Things are (sort of) working out with my job. And I'm really enjoying exploring our new neighborhood on the weekends.
But in some ways, I still feel very unsettled. There are plenty of things left on our admin To-Do list: register for a doctor (apparently that's a thing here), finish hanging our pictures, find a house cleaner, etc. And I'm yet to master the time difference when it comes to keeping in touch with my family. But the hardest adjustment has definitely been on a social level. In New York, I had a ton of close friends, which meant there was always someone around to get lunch with or meet for happy hour. Here, not so much.
Don't get me wrong: The few people we know here are being so wonderful and introducing us to their friends and setting me up on girl dates, but it's almost like going on job interviews. I just want to be with people I already know, and sit on the couch and watch trashy TV while we each drink our own bottle of wine. Is that too much to ask?
But overall, I feel like I'm in a pretty good place for the 3-month mark. I knew coming into this that it wasn't going to be a super easy transition and that it be several months before I felt at home. And as my friend's English husband told me, 'London is not a city that's just going to open her legs for you right away. It takes time.'
Another handy excuse for my complete abandonment of Streaky Bacon Struggles? It's actually been a gorgeous summer here. I've learned very quickly that English people love talking about the weather, so I've had tons of conversations about the lovely sunshine. I've also learned that English people have no idea what a real heat wave is. I mean, they issued actual heat warnings when the temperatures teetered around 85 degrees -- a perfect summer's day, if you ask me.
But enough about the weather. (God, I'm British already.) It feels very strange that we've been here nearly 3 months already. I do feel much more settled: We've moved into our new flat. I have a pretty strong grasp on public transportation. (I've even gotten over my New York-bred hatred of buses.) Things are (sort of) working out with my job. And I'm really enjoying exploring our new neighborhood on the weekends.
But in some ways, I still feel very unsettled. There are plenty of things left on our admin To-Do list: register for a doctor (apparently that's a thing here), finish hanging our pictures, find a house cleaner, etc. And I'm yet to master the time difference when it comes to keeping in touch with my family. But the hardest adjustment has definitely been on a social level. In New York, I had a ton of close friends, which meant there was always someone around to get lunch with or meet for happy hour. Here, not so much.
Don't get me wrong: The few people we know here are being so wonderful and introducing us to their friends and setting me up on girl dates, but it's almost like going on job interviews. I just want to be with people I already know, and sit on the couch and watch trashy TV while we each drink our own bottle of wine. Is that too much to ask?
But overall, I feel like I'm in a pretty good place for the 3-month mark. I knew coming into this that it wasn't going to be a super easy transition and that it be several months before I felt at home. And as my friend's English husband told me, 'London is not a city that's just going to open her legs for you right away. It takes time.'
Saturday, May 25, 2013
Finding a Home
It looks like we have a flat!
One of the many perks that has come with Hubs being transferred here by his company, is the fact that the relocation package included time with an estate agent. I moved three times in NYC and never used a broker (mostly to save cash), so this was a pretty awesome luxury.
We met Jeanette bright and early at Angel station to start our search. (And obviously when I say 'bright and early' I just mean early. I'm learning that it's never 'bright' here.) We had decided that we wanted to live in Islington, so she was prepared to show us 15 flats all around the borough. (We picked Islington because my best friend from childhood lives there with her English husband. They told us that it's a cool, young neighborhood -- and I pretty much would have wanted to live near them regardless because I need friends.)
So the weird thing about renting a flat in London is that most places come furnished. Now, as a New Yorker, this was a very unnerving concept. Obviously, my first reaction was: 'Umm...bed bugs?' But Jeanette quickly assured me that, no, London does not have bed bugs. Of course, I responded with, "Until now... Muahaha (evil laugh)."
I digress. So once I got used to the idea of sleeping on someone else's possibly-piss-stained mattress and lounging on a couch that had undoubtedly made contact with a stranger's bare ass at one point in its life, I came around to the idea of a furnished flat. Especially since most of the places we saw had furniture that was 10 times nicer than the Ikea crap we were shipping over.
After seeing most of the flats on our agenda, Jeanette advised us that if we had a favorite it would be smart to put an offer in before 4pm. At that point, they all were starting to blur together in my mind a bit, so I had to consult my notes. Luckily, I had unearthed my snap judgment skills from my sorority days. (During rush, we met so many girls that we had to take quick notes in between rounds. This was just like that -- except while my rush notes said things like "quiet.. awkward... unfashionable," my flat-seeking notes were more like, "nice kitchen... limited storage space... CATS!")
Luckily, Hubs and I agreed that there was a clear stand-out: a lovely 2-bedroom flat near Highbury & Islington station with a gorgeous view of a the community garden in the back.
After our offer was accepted (yay!) we went to what we hope will be our new local, The Alwyne Castle, for a couple celebratory pints. Cheers to living like an adult married couple and not with our parents!
One of the many perks that has come with Hubs being transferred here by his company, is the fact that the relocation package included time with an estate agent. I moved three times in NYC and never used a broker (mostly to save cash), so this was a pretty awesome luxury.
We met Jeanette bright and early at Angel station to start our search. (And obviously when I say 'bright and early' I just mean early. I'm learning that it's never 'bright' here.) We had decided that we wanted to live in Islington, so she was prepared to show us 15 flats all around the borough. (We picked Islington because my best friend from childhood lives there with her English husband. They told us that it's a cool, young neighborhood -- and I pretty much would have wanted to live near them regardless because I need friends.)
So the weird thing about renting a flat in London is that most places come furnished. Now, as a New Yorker, this was a very unnerving concept. Obviously, my first reaction was: 'Umm...bed bugs?' But Jeanette quickly assured me that, no, London does not have bed bugs. Of course, I responded with, "Until now... Muahaha (evil laugh)."
I digress. So once I got used to the idea of sleeping on someone else's possibly-piss-stained mattress and lounging on a couch that had undoubtedly made contact with a stranger's bare ass at one point in its life, I came around to the idea of a furnished flat. Especially since most of the places we saw had furniture that was 10 times nicer than the Ikea crap we were shipping over.
After seeing most of the flats on our agenda, Jeanette advised us that if we had a favorite it would be smart to put an offer in before 4pm. At that point, they all were starting to blur together in my mind a bit, so I had to consult my notes. Luckily, I had unearthed my snap judgment skills from my sorority days. (During rush, we met so many girls that we had to take quick notes in between rounds. This was just like that -- except while my rush notes said things like "quiet.. awkward... unfashionable," my flat-seeking notes were more like, "nice kitchen... limited storage space... CATS!")
Luckily, Hubs and I agreed that there was a clear stand-out: a lovely 2-bedroom flat near Highbury & Islington station with a gorgeous view of a the community garden in the back.
After our offer was accepted (yay!) we went to what we hope will be our new local, The Alwyne Castle, for a couple celebratory pints. Cheers to living like an adult married couple and not with our parents!
Thursday, May 23, 2013
Hello, London
Well, I'm in London. And so far...it's not great. But, before you go saying all I do is complain (like my hubs has said about 57 times), let me explain...
Right now, we're living with his parents. In the suburbs. Two things that do not sit well with me. Now don't get me wrong: My in-laws are wonderful, sweet people who I love spending time with. But that does that mean that they are people I want to live full-time with -- especially in their home.
It's been kind of hard to explain how I'm feeling to Hubs, who seems perfectly happy to be back in his childhood home. It appears that he could let his mom make him cups of tea and wash his dishes for weeks on end. I, however, just don't feel comfortable. My mother-in-law has urged me to make myself at home, but I just feel like I'm a little kid again living with my parents. I can't lounge around in my pajamas on the couch or eat chips out of the bag. And his mom has been so sweet by cooking dinner for us most nights -- but that means I have to eat whatever she makes. (There goes my pre-summer diet!) Of course, making matters worse is the fact that I'm working from (their) home -- and there have been several days where I haven't even left the house. Sad, I know...
But there's a light at the end of the tunnel! We're going to look at potential flats tomorrow, so I'm hoping we'll be out of mom and dad's house and into our cool new London home in no time. Stay tuned...
Right now, we're living with his parents. In the suburbs. Two things that do not sit well with me. Now don't get me wrong: My in-laws are wonderful, sweet people who I love spending time with. But that does that mean that they are people I want to live full-time with -- especially in their home.
It's been kind of hard to explain how I'm feeling to Hubs, who seems perfectly happy to be back in his childhood home. It appears that he could let his mom make him cups of tea and wash his dishes for weeks on end. I, however, just don't feel comfortable. My mother-in-law has urged me to make myself at home, but I just feel like I'm a little kid again living with my parents. I can't lounge around in my pajamas on the couch or eat chips out of the bag. And his mom has been so sweet by cooking dinner for us most nights -- but that means I have to eat whatever she makes. (There goes my pre-summer diet!) Of course, making matters worse is the fact that I'm working from (their) home -- and there have been several days where I haven't even left the house. Sad, I know...
But there's a light at the end of the tunnel! We're going to look at potential flats tomorrow, so I'm hoping we'll be out of mom and dad's house and into our cool new London home in no time. Stay tuned...
Saturday, May 18, 2013
Goodbye, New York
The last few days have been... stressful. They've also been fun, emotional and exciting. But mostly stressful.
My hubs left for London two weeks ago, leaving me to wrap up our NYC lives on my own. To be fair, he needed to get over there to start his new job, and I needed to stay here to go to a Bachelorette Party in Las Vegas. (Hey, I have my priorities!)
Well, Vegas was Vegas -- meaning it was an incredibly awesome four days filled with lots of drinking, lots of dancing and very little sleep. So, not surprisingly, I got super sick as soon as I got back to New York. Of course, I had to fight that sickness and somehow get through the packing, admin stuff and final goodbyes that come with leaving the country.
The movers came on Thursday, and I only broke into hysterical tears twice. (Considering the circumstances, I was okay with that.) The main stress of the day came from the fact that the Time Warner Cable guy was supposed to pick up my cable box and totally stood me up. And no one on the phone could understand why I didn't want to just reschedule my appointment. (Because I'm leaving the country. Tomorrow. No, I don't want to drop the box off myself. Because I'm sick and stressed and can I speak to a manager?)
Somehow I pulled myself together and was able to enjoy my last celebration with my girlfriends -- aka Fancy Girls Night. We got unnecessarily dressed up and went to a late dinner at one of my favorite spots, Buddakan. (For people like me who are still not tired of Sex and the City references, this is the spot where Big and Carrie have their rehearsal dinner in the first movie.)
The next day we did brunch at Dos Caminos, followed by drinks at a local dive bar. Most of my NYC crew showed up to say goodbye -- and as I made my way around to hug each of them, the last six years ran through my mind. The ups: getting my first job, meeting my husband, swapping stories over brunch with the girls. And the downs: losing my first job, not being able to make rent, getting my heart broken. After all, these were the people that had been there with me through it all... my New York family.
So naturally, I started crying at that point and just walked out of the bar. Figured there was no good way to say goodbye, so it was best to just run away.
Now I'm on the plane flying over the Atlantic. Thanks to Business Class (and hubby's company!), it's super comfortable -- and thanks to This Is 40 (and Paul Rudd), I've stopped crying and am in a much better frame of mind. Now I'm ready to land at Heathrow, reunite with my man and start drinking loads of tea.
My hubs left for London two weeks ago, leaving me to wrap up our NYC lives on my own. To be fair, he needed to get over there to start his new job, and I needed to stay here to go to a Bachelorette Party in Las Vegas. (Hey, I have my priorities!)
Well, Vegas was Vegas -- meaning it was an incredibly awesome four days filled with lots of drinking, lots of dancing and very little sleep. So, not surprisingly, I got super sick as soon as I got back to New York. Of course, I had to fight that sickness and somehow get through the packing, admin stuff and final goodbyes that come with leaving the country.
The movers came on Thursday, and I only broke into hysterical tears twice. (Considering the circumstances, I was okay with that.) The main stress of the day came from the fact that the Time Warner Cable guy was supposed to pick up my cable box and totally stood me up. And no one on the phone could understand why I didn't want to just reschedule my appointment. (Because I'm leaving the country. Tomorrow. No, I don't want to drop the box off myself. Because I'm sick and stressed and can I speak to a manager?)
Somehow I pulled myself together and was able to enjoy my last celebration with my girlfriends -- aka Fancy Girls Night. We got unnecessarily dressed up and went to a late dinner at one of my favorite spots, Buddakan. (For people like me who are still not tired of Sex and the City references, this is the spot where Big and Carrie have their rehearsal dinner in the first movie.)
The next day we did brunch at Dos Caminos, followed by drinks at a local dive bar. Most of my NYC crew showed up to say goodbye -- and as I made my way around to hug each of them, the last six years ran through my mind. The ups: getting my first job, meeting my husband, swapping stories over brunch with the girls. And the downs: losing my first job, not being able to make rent, getting my heart broken. After all, these were the people that had been there with me through it all... my New York family.
So naturally, I started crying at that point and just walked out of the bar. Figured there was no good way to say goodbye, so it was best to just run away.
Now I'm on the plane flying over the Atlantic. Thanks to Business Class (and hubby's company!), it's super comfortable -- and thanks to This Is 40 (and Paul Rudd), I've stopped crying and am in a much better frame of mind. Now I'm ready to land at Heathrow, reunite with my man and start drinking loads of tea.
Monday, May 13, 2013
It's Really Happening
I am moving to London.
Ten years ago, I was moving to North Carolina. I had just graduated high school and had chosen to go to a university several states away, where I didn't know anyone. But that was easy. I had other students and frat parties and keg beer to keep me company.
Six years ago, I was moving to New York City. This time, it wasn't exactly easy. I had no money, no job and was renting a crappy apartment in Brooklyn. (The scary part, not the trendy part.) But I was following my dreams of living in the Big City, and I couldn't wait to start my adult life.
Now, after completely falling in love with NYC -- and completely falling in love -- I'm leaving it behind and setting up shop in Mother England. Why, you ask? Is it because I adore roast dinners and cups of tea? Is it because I find sunny days a bit too pleasant? Nope, it's because I'm very happily married to a Brit.
Before we were married (or even engaged), I remember talking to my mom about our future. I told her that if I ended up with this guy, he may want to move back to England at some point. And you know what she said? "Honey, you do what you have to do to keep your man!"
Of course, that's not to say I'm not excited about the move. Quite the opposite, in fact. But it is hard to say goodbye to NYC: home to my closest friends, the cheapest cabs and the booziest brunch spots. Yes, I'm leaving the city I love -- but I have a sneaky feeling a steamy affair with foggy Londontown is about to begin.
Ten years ago, I was moving to North Carolina. I had just graduated high school and had chosen to go to a university several states away, where I didn't know anyone. But that was easy. I had other students and frat parties and keg beer to keep me company.
Six years ago, I was moving to New York City. This time, it wasn't exactly easy. I had no money, no job and was renting a crappy apartment in Brooklyn. (The scary part, not the trendy part.) But I was following my dreams of living in the Big City, and I couldn't wait to start my adult life.
Now, after completely falling in love with NYC -- and completely falling in love -- I'm leaving it behind and setting up shop in Mother England. Why, you ask? Is it because I adore roast dinners and cups of tea? Is it because I find sunny days a bit too pleasant? Nope, it's because I'm very happily married to a Brit.
Before we were married (or even engaged), I remember talking to my mom about our future. I told her that if I ended up with this guy, he may want to move back to England at some point. And you know what she said? "Honey, you do what you have to do to keep your man!"
Of course, that's not to say I'm not excited about the move. Quite the opposite, in fact. But it is hard to say goodbye to NYC: home to my closest friends, the cheapest cabs and the booziest brunch spots. Yes, I'm leaving the city I love -- but I have a sneaky feeling a steamy affair with foggy Londontown is about to begin.
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