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After a lazy sunday, monday was all about finding a flat and a job. I had booked the hotel for a week so I had to find a place to stay quickly. Armed with my "London Bible" I made my way to the first letting agent. Being Swiss and used to cleanliness and tidyness I was a bit surprised by the mess in the office but didn't let this get into my way. I paid the usual fee - learning later that it was too high and good for nothing - and made my way to the 3 flats he organised for me to visit.
It had to be a studio, preferrably in a nice area. Not that I had any idea where the nice areas in London are, I knew about Knightsbridge, South Kensington, Chelsea, Fulham and a few others. Needless to say that there was no way I could ever afford to live there, even bedsits were too expensive.
I spent Monday travelling first to West Kensington - which is clearly NOT a nice area, then to Putney, then to Holland road. I saw 3 studios and funnily they got worse one by one. You don't expect a ballroom for 150 GBP a week but a 10sqm hole that stinks of smoke and other non defined odours with toilet to share is below my level of comfort.
This evening, I went back to the hotel with blisters on my feet, tired and hungry having forgotten to eat all day. I certainly wouldn't give up that quickly, well, not that I could but my levels of expectation regarding accomodation sunk that day - a lot.
I went down to the Indian Restaurant right in the hotel for dinner that night, feeling like I not only deserved a good heavy indian curry but also that I could certainly take it - calorie wise.
It was one tasty curry, that until I had a quick glimpse into the kitchen. Watching the cook slicing chicken, I saw a piece fall on the floor. I also saw him pick it up and putting it back into the bowl with the other slices. I was hungry enough to finish my meal but it did somehow taste a little less enjoyable after that... It's true what they say: You don't know what happens in restaurant kitchens and you shouldn't know!
I spent the rest of the evening in my room, which had an amazing view over the victorian buildings on Gloucester Terrace.
http://maps.google.co.uk/maps?hl=de&q=Paddington+London&ie=UTF8&ll=51.514189,-0.179252&spn=0.00464,0.009613&t=h&z=17
I then enjoyed the beauty of these buildings, all the same, same entrances, same colour, same windows. It was only later that I understood how this is part of the English way of disapearing in the crowd, of not showing any identity to strangers. This may be beautiful to the eye when it comes to buildings - it's not so beautiful when you travel to and from work in rush hour and observe the people in front of and next to you. All the same expression, or lack thereof, sitting or standing there like they were not really there. Not reacting to anything, not looking at anything and God forbid anyone. The more apathic they are in daily life the crazier they get when they're drunk, but that's another story - later more.
21/11/2008
October 15, 2005, the arrival
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3rd time I landed at Luton Airport, 1st time it was going to be to stay.
Carrying my 20kg suitcase to the bus, I felt nothing. It was a normal day, I had just arrived in London and would make my way to the city, get a cab at Marble Arch and go to the Hotel Prince William near Paddington Station.
I don't remember a single thing about the bus ride, was it different in any way? No memory!
I do remember how heavy 20kg of luggage without any wheels are though, especially if you have to carry it through Marble Arch while trying to get a cab at 6pm on a rainy day. There I was, dripping wet, exhausted, fighting with other people for one free cab. It took about 20 minutes until one lovely guy stopped and offered to get me to the hotel, even though he had finished his shift and was about to go home.
First night at the hotel, they had to give me a different room, as the one I was supposed to get had been double booked... it was tiny, a bit filthy with toilet on the floor. Not what I had booked, not what I wanted but I decided not to make a fuss for one night - I wasn't going to start my adventure this way.
Having unpacked, I decided to go for dinner. The Angus Steak House right up the street seemed like a good option, I was starving and what's better to start a new life than a juicy rare steak with fries!
I now realise how often I dined in this steak house, usually sitting at the same table, watching the people rushing by. I also remember the Cafe Nero right around the corner where I consumed countless Espressos and latte Macchiattos, the Italian Restaurant with the awesome Spaghetti Carbonara and the charming italian waiters. Even after I had a flat in Sheperd's Bush I went to Paddington a lot, mainly for the Internet Cafe, where I spent ours looking for jobs and emailing friends and family back home.
Paddington, the first step in my London adventure, an important one, as everything that came later started from there...
3rd time I landed at Luton Airport, 1st time it was going to be to stay.
Carrying my 20kg suitcase to the bus, I felt nothing. It was a normal day, I had just arrived in London and would make my way to the city, get a cab at Marble Arch and go to the Hotel Prince William near Paddington Station.
I don't remember a single thing about the bus ride, was it different in any way? No memory!
I do remember how heavy 20kg of luggage without any wheels are though, especially if you have to carry it through Marble Arch while trying to get a cab at 6pm on a rainy day. There I was, dripping wet, exhausted, fighting with other people for one free cab. It took about 20 minutes until one lovely guy stopped and offered to get me to the hotel, even though he had finished his shift and was about to go home.
First night at the hotel, they had to give me a different room, as the one I was supposed to get had been double booked... it was tiny, a bit filthy with toilet on the floor. Not what I had booked, not what I wanted but I decided not to make a fuss for one night - I wasn't going to start my adventure this way.
Having unpacked, I decided to go for dinner. The Angus Steak House right up the street seemed like a good option, I was starving and what's better to start a new life than a juicy rare steak with fries!
I now realise how often I dined in this steak house, usually sitting at the same table, watching the people rushing by. I also remember the Cafe Nero right around the corner where I consumed countless Espressos and latte Macchiattos, the Italian Restaurant with the awesome Spaghetti Carbonara and the charming italian waiters. Even after I had a flat in Sheperd's Bush I went to Paddington a lot, mainly for the Internet Cafe, where I spent ours looking for jobs and emailing friends and family back home.
Paddington, the first step in my London adventure, an important one, as everything that came later started from there...
13/11/2008
Where do I start
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It may seem strange, to start a complete new blog about something I have already written a lot, this back and forth.
Well, being back in Switzerland for almost half a year now, I do feel the need to relive certain events, revisit certain places in my head, even feel certain emotions again.
Being an expat is something you cannot explain to anybody who hasn't done it, too much is relied with it especially emotions so strong you cannot put them in words.
From the excitement to risk something to the fear of failure, from hope to despair, from adjustment to the new life to homesicknes, from being overwhelmed by the busy rhythm of this vibrant city to the missing of a quiet place to find some rest - all these and many more are now a part of me, they are memories, some conscious, some hidden, they will be with me forever and influence every decision I'll make in the future.
What I'll do is try to revisit all these, with all the hurting it will cause - some experiences were very painfull and still are - but also with all the strengh they gave me.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/London
It may seem strange, to start a complete new blog about something I have already written a lot, this back and forth.
Well, being back in Switzerland for almost half a year now, I do feel the need to relive certain events, revisit certain places in my head, even feel certain emotions again.
Being an expat is something you cannot explain to anybody who hasn't done it, too much is relied with it especially emotions so strong you cannot put them in words.
From the excitement to risk something to the fear of failure, from hope to despair, from adjustment to the new life to homesicknes, from being overwhelmed by the busy rhythm of this vibrant city to the missing of a quiet place to find some rest - all these and many more are now a part of me, they are memories, some conscious, some hidden, they will be with me forever and influence every decision I'll make in the future.
What I'll do is try to revisit all these, with all the hurting it will cause - some experiences were very painfull and still are - but also with all the strengh they gave me.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/London
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