Maybe I'm not alone after all...
I was advised when I moved to London not to wait for new friends to magically turn up to do things with, that I should just go out and do them anyway. That's what I've tried to do, and have been pretty successful at seeing the sites and generally doing fun things on my own...living life and just getting on with it. I have, however, started to become bored with my own company. I feel a little pathetic about that. I welcome solutions to this problem.
Sarah clued me into another gal's blog with this great posting of an American's life in London (exceprt pasted below). It made me feel not quite so alone, and tells it like it is. Too true, this is:
Sarah clued me into another gal's blog with this great posting of an American's life in London (exceprt pasted below). It made me feel not quite so alone, and tells it like it is. Too true, this is:
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The First Rule About Fight Club
I left the US in November 1999. I havenÂt lived back there since, although I have managed to visit the States nearly once a year since leaving. There are things that I miss, I won't lie-I think Target is about the best shop in the world (100-count box of tampons? Excellent. Ten gallons of Tide? Perfect.) I do miss the constant availability that is restaurant life. Fancy Chinese? Or Indian? Or Mexican? Or Texmex? Or Mexican Infusion? How about a Saskatchewan/Szechuan, because there's one of those off Central Expressway.
I sometimes miss knowing how everything works-I know how to get utilities hooked up, I know where to go when it's time to vote, and Oscar Night was always a big night.
But there are some pretty good trade-offs about living here. The Indian food is killer.
TV can either be cutting edge or complete crap. There are houses around the corner that are 600 years old. Angus' hometown's church has the tombs of three witches, burnt at the stake. I don't have to drive to work (other than the 5 miles to the train station), as I can walk or take the tube. And I have the most magnificent view on my way to work.
I don't regret moving to Europe for a single second. There is something that you have to note, though, if you are thinking about moving here. Unless you are Australian or a New Zealander, you won't have a fallback community (the Aussies I work with have regular barbecues. They all know each other and don't hesitate to talk to a newcomer. They can drink them some beer and like hubbly bubbly pipes. I love them.) I work with an American from Boston named Derek. Derek and I get on well. We always chat when we see each other in business meetings. I make time for Derek, not because he's an American, but because he's good at what he does.
But Derek and I don't socialize outside of the office. Not because we don't get on, but because there's an unwritten rule, a silent code-if you move away from the States, then you must make it on your own. You don't group in obvious clumps and knock back beer together on a weekly basis. You don't call each other to compare Ribena versus Vimto. You can't commiserate on the hierarchal structure that is English working environments (which, it has to be said, is also found in the States.) You chose to live here, so you suck it up and get on with it. You don't commiserate. The first rule about Fight Club is you don't talk about Fight Club.
I left the US in November 1999. I havenÂt lived back there since, although I have managed to visit the States nearly once a year since leaving. There are things that I miss, I won't lie-I think Target is about the best shop in the world (100-count box of tampons? Excellent. Ten gallons of Tide? Perfect.) I do miss the constant availability that is restaurant life. Fancy Chinese? Or Indian? Or Mexican? Or Texmex? Or Mexican Infusion? How about a Saskatchewan/Szechuan, because there's one of those off Central Expressway.
I sometimes miss knowing how everything works-I know how to get utilities hooked up, I know where to go when it's time to vote, and Oscar Night was always a big night.
But there are some pretty good trade-offs about living here. The Indian food is killer.
TV can either be cutting edge or complete crap. There are houses around the corner that are 600 years old. Angus' hometown's church has the tombs of three witches, burnt at the stake. I don't have to drive to work (other than the 5 miles to the train station), as I can walk or take the tube. And I have the most magnificent view on my way to work.
I don't regret moving to Europe for a single second. There is something that you have to note, though, if you are thinking about moving here. Unless you are Australian or a New Zealander, you won't have a fallback community (the Aussies I work with have regular barbecues. They all know each other and don't hesitate to talk to a newcomer. They can drink them some beer and like hubbly bubbly pipes. I love them.) I work with an American from Boston named Derek. Derek and I get on well. We always chat when we see each other in business meetings. I make time for Derek, not because he's an American, but because he's good at what he does.
But Derek and I don't socialize outside of the office. Not because we don't get on, but because there's an unwritten rule, a silent code-if you move away from the States, then you must make it on your own. You don't group in obvious clumps and knock back beer together on a weekly basis. You don't call each other to compare Ribena versus Vimto. You can't commiserate on the hierarchal structure that is English working environments (which, it has to be said, is also found in the States.) You chose to live here, so you suck it up and get on with it. You don't commiserate. The first rule about Fight Club is you don't talk about Fight Club.
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On another note, I just read that Ann Richards passed away last night after a long struggle with cancer. She was one fiery, fiesty woman, and one of the reasons I got interested in politics. I am proud to have worked on her gubernatorial campaign. R.I.P., Ann. You made a difference.
posted by Eleanor @ 1:08 pm
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