- London isn't as bad anymore. It could be that I'm just getting use to all of it now... Cramming into the carriage of the Tube to get to work, the pushing, the public drunkenness that I witness as I walk home... It's all starting to be normal. It's not to say that I like it or anything.
- However, I do like the job. Sometimes, the motivation to go to work isn't there... partly because I'm not getting paid enough to survive and partly because I want to go to all these places that I'm researching on.
- A perk of the job? The swag!!! (For those who don't know what swag is, it's basically promotional items or gifts that are given away by companies or organizations. Or Stuff We Ain't Got.) On Friday, one of the beauty editors asked if I was interested in free makeup. Now, even though I'm not exactly the glamor queen, I couldn't really pass up free crap. I ended up getting pretty prime stuff that one would pay a small fortune for. (Bobbi Brown and MAC stuff!!!) Now, I need to be friends with the technology editors.
- It's a bit odd to find the laundry machine in the kitchen. I wouldn't mind the machine in the kitchen if it works properly. However, this laundry machine, which is a washer and dryer in one, has been my Everest to overcome. It turns on whenever it feels like it. It locks itself and thus imprisoning my clothes in its "cleaning" receptacle. And it takes about 3 hours to dry 4 pairs of socks. I think it's trying to screw with me, but I will win. Just wait and see.
- One of the best ways to survive in London? Head to Sainsbury (or any big grocery chain) and look for the "reduce to clear" sticker. One night, I managed to score meals for the entire day for only 60p ($1.20). Gotta love it!
- Living in hostel-like conditions suck... especially since I'll be living here for the next 3 months. Let's just say the bathroom situation leaves a lot to be desired.
- For the guys... Consider going to Spain. I walked into the kitchen today to find one of my housemates, a Spanish girl, cooking in the buff. Shocked, I quickly turned around and walked back to my room. She said it was ok because it's an all-girl houses. Now, I'm not sure if this is going to be a regular occurrence. However, the few guys I told this story to wants an invite to see if this hypothesis bares any truth.
- It's almost 3am. The bar is closing. HALLUAH!!!
Saturday, April 14, 2007
A Retrospective... Of the Last 2 Weeks
As I lay in my bed wanting so desperately to go to sleep but can't because the bar that's two doors down from my flat is still open at 2:16am, I'm left to reflect on life in London. So, here goes...
Monday, April 02, 2007
My Whole New World
Current location: London, England, UK
Visiting London and actually living in London are 2 very different things. I can't decide if I like it or not. I've come up with 3 theories as to why I can't decide: 1. It's because I've gotten use to living in Asia; 2. It's a big, crowded, busy city; or 3. It's because it's London.
I started my new job today in the exciting world of publishing. I showed up with my business clothes while everyone in the office were in jeans and a t-shirt. Right now, I'm trying to write a little blimp about places that use to be other places for the Easyjet (a budget airline that flies around Europe) in-flight magazine. (For those flying Easyjet any time in May, check out the "3 of the best" section.) It's hard to concentrate in an office full of chatter. (Times like this requires a cafe to sit in and people-watch, a carmel macchiato, and the ipod.) The people in the office are a bit closed off, but I think that's more of a British thing. But all-in-all, it was a pretty good day.
Lots to learn and so little time to do so!!!!!!!
Visiting London and actually living in London are 2 very different things. I can't decide if I like it or not. I've come up with 3 theories as to why I can't decide: 1. It's because I've gotten use to living in Asia; 2. It's a big, crowded, busy city; or 3. It's because it's London.
I started my new job today in the exciting world of publishing. I showed up with my business clothes while everyone in the office were in jeans and a t-shirt. Right now, I'm trying to write a little blimp about places that use to be other places for the Easyjet (a budget airline that flies around Europe) in-flight magazine. (For those flying Easyjet any time in May, check out the "3 of the best" section.) It's hard to concentrate in an office full of chatter. (Times like this requires a cafe to sit in and people-watch, a carmel macchiato, and the ipod.) The people in the office are a bit closed off, but I think that's more of a British thing. But all-in-all, it was a pretty good day.
Lots to learn and so little time to do so!!!!!!!
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Parle Vous Ingles? Because I Definitely Can't Speak French!
Current location: Paris, France
My funny little French story. I was sitting underneath the L'Arc de Triomphe waiting for the crowds to thin out when an elderly French gentleman of about 60 years old sat beside me. About a minute later, I heard a loud and deadly fart coming from the man's direction. I turned to look. He smiled, said "pardon," then got up and left. About 5 minutes later, the man returned and sat next to me again.
A ceremony to celebrate French war veterans had just taken place, hence the crowds. As the veterans began to leave, the elderly man tapped my arm, pointed to one of the men and said "mi papa" with a beaming smile across his face. Since I know no French, I just nodded and smiled back. Then, in French, I think he said that his father was stationed in Korea, China, Vietnam, and India (or that's the story I made up in my head while he was talking to me). I asked him "Parle vous Ingles?" afterwards where he promptly responded "NON!" This led to some awkward silence. Then man got up quickly when he saw that the people had cleared, grabbed my arm, and gestured the "take a picture of me" motion.
So, I went. (There were plenty of police around so I didn't worry too much.) He took a picture of me. (Ok, well, half of me. I think his eyes are bad.) Then, he took me around the monument, again giving me the commentary all in French. After my personal tour was over, he turned to me and said "Cappachino?" Thinking about all my past brushes with strange guys in foreign countries and since I had nothing else better to do, I went with him. (Again, I made sure we were in a very public place.)
We headed off to a French fast food place where the gentleman got me caramel ice cream and orange juice. (He pointed at the wall of the restaurant and said "no cafe.") We sat there in more awkward silence. He kept staring at the lady at the next table who looked like she was going cry. I kept flipping through my Paris guidebook, hoping there was French survival phrases I could use. Finally, after pulling all my neurons together, I finally remembered how to say "my name is..." in French thanks to my 1 day in French class as a freshman in high school. I said "Je m'appelle Helen" (my alias). He smiled and said "Je m'appelle Daniel." Slowly, we had some form of a conversation as I read through my guidebook while the man corrected my pronunciation.
After we were done eating, we left the restaurant, I thought it was time to say goodbye. I kept looking at my watch (and making sure he saw that I was looking at my watch) and chimed in "metro" every other minute. When we got to the Metro stop and as in the middle of my "au revoir", the old man asked "Arc de Triomphe. Up?" I hesitated a bit. I really did want to go on top of the monument to get a view of the city. And the sun was setting on a clear day. And it did cost €8 to go up. So, what do you think I did?
Yes, I went up with the guy. And we even took the elevator up so we didn't have to walk up 284 steps. He showed me all the different places that can be seen from the top of the Arc de Triomphe... the Louvre, the Orsay, Norte-Dame, the Opera House, and Versailles, off in the distance. It was pretty cool. 30 minutes later, I decided that it was time to end it all. I kept fake-yawning to make it look like was really tired. And when we got to the Metro stop again, I said "merci" and "au revoir" and quickly ran underground without looking back before he could say anything else.
For the record, I did NOT go on a date with an old guy, even though Annie says otherwise. I was just meeting a local and he bought me ice cream. That is all. I learned a lot. It was an enlightening experience. Now, all I want to know is why do all the weird old guys talk to me?! Blah, I say. BLAH!
My funny little French story. I was sitting underneath the L'Arc de Triomphe waiting for the crowds to thin out when an elderly French gentleman of about 60 years old sat beside me. About a minute later, I heard a loud and deadly fart coming from the man's direction. I turned to look. He smiled, said "pardon," then got up and left. About 5 minutes later, the man returned and sat next to me again.
A ceremony to celebrate French war veterans had just taken place, hence the crowds. As the veterans began to leave, the elderly man tapped my arm, pointed to one of the men and said "mi papa" with a beaming smile across his face. Since I know no French, I just nodded and smiled back. Then, in French, I think he said that his father was stationed in Korea, China, Vietnam, and India (or that's the story I made up in my head while he was talking to me). I asked him "Parle vous Ingles?" afterwards where he promptly responded "NON!" This led to some awkward silence. Then man got up quickly when he saw that the people had cleared, grabbed my arm, and gestured the "take a picture of me" motion.
So, I went. (There were plenty of police around so I didn't worry too much.) He took a picture of me. (Ok, well, half of me. I think his eyes are bad.) Then, he took me around the monument, again giving me the commentary all in French. After my personal tour was over, he turned to me and said "Cappachino?" Thinking about all my past brushes with strange guys in foreign countries and since I had nothing else better to do, I went with him. (Again, I made sure we were in a very public place.)
We headed off to a French fast food place where the gentleman got me caramel ice cream and orange juice. (He pointed at the wall of the restaurant and said "no cafe.") We sat there in more awkward silence. He kept staring at the lady at the next table who looked like she was going cry. I kept flipping through my Paris guidebook, hoping there was French survival phrases I could use. Finally, after pulling all my neurons together, I finally remembered how to say "my name is..." in French thanks to my 1 day in French class as a freshman in high school. I said "Je m'appelle Helen" (my alias). He smiled and said "Je m'appelle Daniel." Slowly, we had some form of a conversation as I read through my guidebook while the man corrected my pronunciation.
After we were done eating, we left the restaurant, I thought it was time to say goodbye. I kept looking at my watch (and making sure he saw that I was looking at my watch) and chimed in "metro" every other minute. When we got to the Metro stop and as in the middle of my "au revoir", the old man asked "Arc de Triomphe. Up?" I hesitated a bit. I really did want to go on top of the monument to get a view of the city. And the sun was setting on a clear day. And it did cost €8 to go up. So, what do you think I did?
Yes, I went up with the guy. And we even took the elevator up so we didn't have to walk up 284 steps. He showed me all the different places that can be seen from the top of the Arc de Triomphe... the Louvre, the Orsay, Norte-Dame, the Opera House, and Versailles, off in the distance. It was pretty cool. 30 minutes later, I decided that it was time to end it all. I kept fake-yawning to make it look like was really tired. And when we got to the Metro stop again, I said "merci" and "au revoir" and quickly ran underground without looking back before he could say anything else.
For the record, I did NOT go on a date with an old guy, even though Annie says otherwise. I was just meeting a local and he bought me ice cream. That is all. I learned a lot. It was an enlightening experience. Now, all I want to know is why do all the weird old guys talk to me?! Blah, I say. BLAH!
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
On The Road Again
I'm experiencing a bit of déjà vu at the moment. I'm sitting by the computer typing on the blog while a big, red suitcase sits across the room empty and waiting to be filled. Yup, I'm leaving again. Tomorrow, I start my world domination in Europe. At the moment, I'm feeling more indifferent than anything else. But I was the same way when right before I left for Japan. The anxiety attack kicked in around my layover in San Francisco. I ended up sucking my phone card dry calling people and checking that I wasn't crazy. Hmm... oh well. If anyone hears from me tomorrow, it's because I'm losing it (again).
Sunday, March 18, 2007
The Vultures
I love Costco. Where else can you get 3lbs of blueberries in a box, 15 extremely oversized muffins in one neat package, and books you don't really need all in one place?! However, if you ever want to experience chaos and madness at its best, go to Costco around lunchtime on a weekend. And if you want an extra special treat, go to one located in or near an predominantly Asian community. Why? Free food samples. Lots of them. And if the sample is located in the freezer section (i.e. warm food), people will swoop in like vultures and do whatever it takes to get that sample.
I witnessed a lady pushing her her wheelchair-bound father around so she could get ahead in line. After getting 2 samples, she quickly grabbed the sample away from her father and dumped it in her plastic bag she had hiding in her purse. I watched her for a good 10 minutes as she rotated between sample lines, intermittently leaving her father behind the sample lady so she wouldn't be as easily recognized. She had a pretty good collection of chicken bakes and nut clusters when it was all said and done. And I'm very sure she left the store without even buying a thing.
I also watched a group of 3 in action. Each person would stand in a different sample line and get 3 samples. They would meet up somewhere in the middle and divvy out the goods. Once eaten, they would go to a separate sample line and repeat. At least these people had some intention of purchasing something.
So, what is the moral of the story? Never wave anything free in front of an Asian (ok, Chinese) person. (I'm Chinese so I can say this. Why do you think my family and I were at Costco on a Sunday afternoon?!)
I witnessed a lady pushing her her wheelchair-bound father around so she could get ahead in line. After getting 2 samples, she quickly grabbed the sample away from her father and dumped it in her plastic bag she had hiding in her purse. I watched her for a good 10 minutes as she rotated between sample lines, intermittently leaving her father behind the sample lady so she wouldn't be as easily recognized. She had a pretty good collection of chicken bakes and nut clusters when it was all said and done. And I'm very sure she left the store without even buying a thing.
I also watched a group of 3 in action. Each person would stand in a different sample line and get 3 samples. They would meet up somewhere in the middle and divvy out the goods. Once eaten, they would go to a separate sample line and repeat. At least these people had some intention of purchasing something.
So, what is the moral of the story? Never wave anything free in front of an Asian (ok, Chinese) person. (I'm Chinese so I can say this. Why do you think my family and I were at Costco on a Sunday afternoon?!)
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