Day 13-15 Germans - so annoying. (13.09.10 - 15.09.10 and thoughts blended in that are not bound to any date)

Where should I begin. I am already sitting here for about 15 minutes not knowing how to start. What a waste of precious time I actually get to rest.

While there is always some kind of input everyday - let it only be these little impressions you get while being on the tube -I often just get home from work, have a little chat with my host for maybe 10 or 15 minutes or so, do this and that, skype home and fall asleep while watching an episode of The Sopranos. Friday is Pub day with the colleagues, and sometimes I actually manage to eat dinner. I posted a picture of every dinner I've had so far except the two times I ate fish and chips, but that's really not worth posting and I'll try to avoid that in the future as it is soggy, rather greasy and not really tasty (it's at least that way where get here). But I still need time and energy to find a good place for a take away in this area and as you get that right at he station here it's a save choice when close to starvation. So you can actually see how little I usually eat here so far (just saying, not complaining). I would LOVE to cook, but then again I find it rather difficult for one person alone and the kitchen is not too inviting. I could use it if I wanted to, but... no. And I could get TONS of microwaveable stuff, what I actually try to avoid as well. And the energy again. Can a person be too exhausted for cooking? Yes. Definitely.
My diet mainly consists of one slice of toast in the morning (which I slowly can't stand anymore - every bloody day the same sh*t. White bread, peanut butter, orange and strawberry jam as well as chocolate-hazelnut spread.), a pack of sandwiches for lunch along with a portion of fruits - mostly fruit salads (no sugar added) or grapes - some crisps and/or some kind of little sweet treat. Mostly something different everyday so I get to try new things. I theoretically COULD store something in the kitchen but the cupboards are filled with Bisto (instant sauce/spice you can get here for a variety of dishes), canned food and old shit. I COULD use the fridge but then again it's stuffed and filthy. Again, I am not complaining as I already came to terms with that, just saying how it is. I am a (paying) guest in this house, renting a room and being allowed to use the bathroom (where she is leaving her pink plastic shavers including hair everywhere). The rest is extra. If I start cleaning (really noticable - I do clean little parts every day) she'll think that I think she is messy. What she is. But I am going to stay here for 2 1/2 months still and we get along pretty good so far. But don't let me do her wrong. She DOES hoover regularly and there sometimes seems to be some chlorinated cleaner in the toilet. But still.

And why AM I taking and posting pictures of food? Who cares? I do.

Beside of the practical aspect of posting food - it actually encourages me to try eating something else each time - there is so much more about. I won't sit down now and copiously ponder about what food means to me - which would be interesting another time actually (oh I miss cooking...) - I'll just put it like this for now: Do you remember that one time in summer when you were a child you ate at you grandparents'?  See.

I had venus clams once in my life when I was ten in a restaurant in Italy and I still remember how they tasted, who was with me, how the location was and how it made me feel.
We link scents, textures and tastes (basically everything we prerceive with our senses) with memories and vice versa (nothing new, I know) so I hopefully will remember eating that delicious bowl of hoisin duck soup (lots of ginger again - yum) along wish frozen yoghurt and strawberries as dessert at itsu I had last Thursday (16.09) , the vegan falafel wrap I had at Portobello Market on Saturday (18.09) and the simmered goat I had on Sunday (19.09) when I was with Katja in Brixton again. (All this will be included in the next post.)

Now I still don't seem to have written a lot about the actual week. Well. I'll come to it.

Wednesday 15th was the complete waste of time I expected it to be. Actually - it was worse.
A few days prior I got that mail from the internship agency inviting me to a meeting with other German interns in London together with the "Germanic Society of London" or some bullshit along those lines. At first, I did not want to go at all (I'm not here for meeting even more Germans...) but then I thought I could just give it a try as there was nothing I could have lost and maybe there would have been some nice people after all I could do something with at the weekends as I don't know too many people yet yada-yada-yada. Waste of time.

South Kensington - posh.

When I saw the the bar we were supposed to meet at was located in South Kenstington I just thought "Hmmm, rather posh. But they know we are interns - we cannot afford that much.". Uh-huh. Small water: 3 Pound. Gin-Tonic: 7.30 Pounds. I even missed the place at first as that tiny little logo thay have is perfectly covered by the marquise as you get close enough to actually read it. It was dark, small and smelled like dirty dishwasher everytime they opened the door as they put us down the stairs right next to the kitchen ( their "meeting room" - according to them). When I arrived, I sceptically looked at a tall blonde girl waving at me with some kind of paper having a logo on it or something like that from the "basement". Down there were the agency's boss giving a shit about any intern, talking with members of that society who equally gave a shit, their interns and a guy having an internship in the same building. After the obligatory who I am, how my internship is, where I stay and so on, two other interns came along. Both blonde, one starting, the other finishing her internship (same company I think it was - something with fashion events). One from Austria, the other from Bavaria. Pu-LEEZ-ah.

I immediately shut myself down. All of them were giggly, moaning self-obsessed Wendys. It's actually rather difficult to explain what a Wendy is. Wendy is actually a German, horse-centred girl's magazine/comic with its main protagonist - Wendy, duh - epitomising that "Heile Welt" (ideal world) "Ponyhof" (pony stables) persona. (take a look: http://www.wendy.kessybabe.de/wendyframe.html ).

All they did was whining about how hot and crowded it is in the tube, how many people there are in London (uh-huh, you don't say...), how slutty girls dress when they go out and that they don't bother dressing up anymore as there 'is always someone dressed worse around'. "Deutsches Kälteempfinden" bla bla. They all agreed that they could not live here. Who would have seen THAT one coming...

I could. And that is pretty much all I need to say about it.

I my me mine all night. Superficial, dumb, obnoxious Wendys, hysterically laughing when realising that they all agree to everything they say. If they can't handle being here, maybe they should have settled on Dartford instead.
That guy was talking with an englishman who happened to work at the agency about German beer the whole time- not one of my favourite topics either.

I politely finished my drink and left together with too other girls from the Cologne area that turned up after a while and seemed to enjoy themselves as little as I did.

Maybe a revised version of this entry may come, who knows. I may manage to finally catch up. Who knows.

Day 12: Camden Market revisited and the nightly Thames on Fi-AH!

Ok, so here I write again, almost one week delayed... what can I say - being busy all day and exhausted at night. That's about it. I want to have this blog and I like posting on it, but I really need to work on my time management probably. The moment it turns into a burden I should rather stop, go on hiatus or shorten the posts. But I don't want any of this to happen, actually.

Last Sunday was amazing. It started rather slow with me waiting for Katja and Sarah in Camden as there had been issues with their train, but that gave me the chance to circle the area around the market. I actually thought that I am going to be late as I missed the bus and were caught up in a traffic jam later, so I texted apologetic messages without realising that there is no chance of getting a signal on the tube, but nevermind. It was better this way. I prefer waiting for someone than having someone waiting for me - so I can at least pretend that I am pissed in the end. ;)

What I did not know before is that Camden really is a real nice place to live, I would say and rather on the posh side even. Just one street above the market and you would not imagine it's there: nice, clean and quiet area, terraced houses (which is mostly the only kind you'll see - as far as I can judge so far as I have not been to too many areas north of the Thames except the central ones) with lovely front gardens.

And then again, right beneath the market - shabbiness. Not so pretty.

When Katja and Sarah finally arrived, it naturally was time to enter the fray again. Walking around the market, shopping (them, not me) and eating some chinese/japanese/whatever mix it all 4 GBP a dish.

After Camden, we had to say goodbye to Sarah und went to the oh so awaited carnival. Westminster it was - so I thought. So we went there first (Katja claiming right from the beginning that it must be Waterloo Station), saw nothing but the usual crowd, and decided to take the bus to Waterloo afterall. So far so good. Alas, the bus did not head to Waterloo, but these are the things you only notice when you are driving for a while already. When it then finally dawned on us - off we went, straight to Elephant & Castle and right to Waterloo via Tube, then.

Waterloo Station is rather big - an actual train station with the tube underneath. When we finally reached the Thames we knew we were at the right place: Little stalls selling food, clothes and schnick schnack, and trees beautifully illuminated with blue and white lights. We were just on time for watching the ending of a performance involving dancing and water(ing), but the highlight really was the parade.

 

It was pretty much a coincidence that we saw where
it started: We were just walking, wondering what else there might be, saw some weird artistic thingy and whoop, music and people in costumes. Unfortunately, others new what was about to happen, so we could not really see alot (some of the picures were taken with my hand held as far up as I could). While continually walking further, we happened to see the same part of the parade over and over, outrunning it again and again, until we finally found a somewhat enjoyable spot. The rather oldish guy right next to us was not as enjoyable as he tried to push us away so he could film the whole thing with something that looked like a mobile installed on something that seemed to be a bar with a kind of light - never seen it before; probably some failed electronic gimmick he still clings on. Nevermind. Persistent, and a little featherbrained he kept waving at the participants trying to motivate them to do likewise, but only achieving to equally weird them out as he did us. I just imagined this poor man's collection of tapes with a whole lot of weirded out people on them... oh my.

I actually intended to not really show any people on my blog, but I'll make an exception for these, as they must be well aware that their pictures are going to be taken when actively participating in a parade (I'm still trying to refuse showing children, though).  I remember one little girl in particular that was part of a group holding up colourfully decorated sticks, waving them rhythmically from side to side who was dancing all the time (contrary to the others). And I only do so probably because Katja saw and mentioned her as well.

Right when the last drumline had finished, we heard the first skyrockets cracking. With uncanny enthusiasm, a great amount of parade spectators ran - almost hysterically - towards the waterside just like they had never seen fireworks before. Admittedly, it was quite a stunning sight.

So the evening really ended with a bang when we tried to get to Waterloo Station again before the place was too crowded.

Day 11: No festival, but a mochi instead?

Sooo alright, I kinda got the dates wrong and the night carnival I was opting for turned out to be Sunday...nevermind. I took a nice, longer evening walk from Westminster to Leicester Square instead. Passing churches (have to check how all these buildings/churches are called in Westminster again....), Trafalgar Square and parts of Soho (esp. some part of Chinatown).

Oh btw, reading through my blog again, I notice all these stupid spelling and grammar mistakes I tend to produce at times but still I decided to leave everything the way it is for now (until I cannot stand looking at them anymore anyway...). I wish I'd have more time for blogging on the one hand, but that on the other hand equals less time for actually DOING anything in the end, so sometimes I hastily write some bits down (still as detailled as possible at that certain moment; so by revisiting my blog later the memories turn out to be more vivid - that's the intention, at least), making the most stupid mistakes or keeping certain parts of an unfinished sentence that turned out differently, in the end. That's also why my posts happen to be rather lenghty - maybe too long for some people to follow - but in the end, all this is solely the result of my own egoism. ;) But still, if anybody else is interested in the things happening around me and My Two Cents, even better, and all my love belongs to you. ;) Oh, and not to forget the times I'm waaay too exhausted even to think properly, but still try to write something down so I'm not tooo far behind. But this state of mind changes rapidly when one of my bestest eight-legged friends decides to drop by again - but then I can say farewell to everything rational...

Anyway, I cannot remember having ever been at Trafalgar Square before, but I felt that it can't keep up with its own reputation. I mean, it was nice, rather pretty and crowded, but not too stunning. Sure, you go there so you can cross it off your list of things to see in LDN, but that's about it. There are way more striking places (the national gallery is supposed to be impressive, though, but did not have the time so far).

The Westend in London equals the New Yorkan Broadway, so to say, so there are theatres after theatres, and I will definitely see one or two (or three or...) shows eventually, but not today. Reeeaaaallly hungry, I ended up in Chinatown. I honestly intended to actually eat dinner at a restaurant, but then, seeing all these groups or couples, it seemed too pathetic to actually go somewhere all alone at night. It's different at lunchtime or in the early evening, but past eight - the impression would have been too sad.

So instead I went for a chinese pork dumpling (they called them bun for some reason) they sold on the street for only a pound twenty, and some yummy yummy mochis as a dessert later at 'home'. Je ne regrette rien. The dumpling was soft, resembling a Germknödel in its consistency - but savoury. The filling was actually mystery meat again, but hearty and delicious (and no sickness of any kind afterwards, so whatever). Unfortunately, right before it was gone, one drop of greasy liquid ended up on my chinos. :( Hope I'll manage to get it out - maybe it's time to visit the laundry service not too far away...

Back in Streatham, it was mochi time. The big sesame one was filled with sweet read bean paste, and the small ones covered in coconut were filled with peanut paste (I DID NOT eat all of them at once - for the record). I like the gooey texture of the outside, and it's quite filling as well.

That was the end of Saturday - I hope that it won't take too long for me to write about my awesome Sunday with Sarah and Katja, revisiting Camden Market and the nightly Carnival at the Thames that ended with a BANG! I did not even really look through all the pictures yet.....

Cheers!

Day 06-10: First week of work

Ok, I really cannot manage to write everyday, especially not as detailled and the way I want to form my phrases, but I'm trying to keep up, and everything interesting (or any thoughts that I feel deserve/need to be shared) will end up here eventually - but delayed at times, I'm afraid.

Okay, first day at work, time to put on business clothings. Beige slacks, brown leather shoes, bordeaux coloured slip-on with a mallow coloured shirt. And my glasses. I'm just writing that down to emphasise the thought I had given to my outfit - the reason for this will come in a jiffy...

As there was an horrendous but reasonable strike on the tube (major cuts in employees; replaced by machines), I got up an hour earlier just to make sure that I will make it on time - I really did as my route was not in any way affected at this time. So being an hour early, there was nothing to do for me than sitting down on a bench, nervously waiting while looking at the Thames and the palace of westminster.

High uncertainty avoidance, sometimes you just notice your own culture. ;)

So, when it was about time I went to the entry, saw that I had to go to the 9th floor and did so. The elavator is mighty fast, I still feel a bit sick each time I use it, but nevermind.
The door only opens by using a card (similar to some rooms at university), but I just slipped through.
For a moment, dressed up me was just staying there while everybody minded their own business, until a guy in jeans came by and asked whether he could help me.

New intern, uh hu. X? No, Y. Alright I'll get her.
Hi, I'm Y, this is A, B ,C (and so on), back there are some sales people and there some IT and Marketing guys. This will be your computer, sit here while it will be prepared. Meanwhile, you can read this please...

So much for the introduction. So I sat there and leaved through the big folder that was just given to me. Excited, confused and a bit disoriented maybe (where was I again? What was that name again? Who ist that?? so on) I did, withouth really getting what I was reading, something about how to use a program I never saw before (I will never really write in detail what I'm doing at work as I am forbidden by contract to do so). After a while I was handed over another pile of stapled papers - the ones I was actually going to need.

The dress code. I saw a guy with a hoodie, a girl with some pink bling bling clothes and a lotta washed out t-shirt. So much about that. 

Nevermind, work until now: People don't really speak to me so far. They are not avoiding me either, I say hello every morning and goodbye every evening and so do they. It was not until yesterday that anybody actually asked me what I was studying. Don't get me wrong, it seems to be a really nice, chatty, funny group - I'm just not really part of it. Well, I'm not expecting to be after one week - of course not - I'm just trying to write matter-of-factly how the situation is so far. There are the occasional two sentence conversations that lead to nowhere. One factor I completely underestimated and that still frustrates me endlessly is that I really have problems understanding the british accent(s)! How can I integrate myself into any conversation when I only understand half of it? It really isn't the language, it's the pronounciation.
I can understand my host fairly well, television even better (btw. I saw 5 minutes of EastEnders - the British Lindenstraße so to say - and it was the most ridiculous over top acting I ever saw. Some pub, Queen Victoria the name I think, burned down with explosions, flames and hyterical shrieking).
I haven't had problems understanding Americans for years now, it is just so different here. They speak fast, colloquial and with I don't know how many accents. They are not all from London, and even here it is almost like one can pick any borough and people there will have a different accent than in another one. It's all part of the process, I will learn and in only a view weeks, problem gone. Actually, I've improved already. Right when everybody left work yesterday, I was told that they go to a pub every Friday together (not everybody every Friday of course, but always somebody), so I went along spontaneously. Good Idea. Some people I knew, some people I saw, some people I never did before. For the first time I was asked what I was actually studying and there was more talking than during the whole week. Less than I wished from my side (hearing comprehension still in process, but increasing) but the night was fun and a step into the right direction. I was told I look like Jack Black haha, is that so? I kinda could not take that as a compliment (about 4 years ago, some girl said the same...hm :< ) Oh, I actually did not have to pay for my drinks the whole night (a guiness and two gin-tonics and I was embaressingly tipsy as the last time I had eaten was 10 in the morning and it was only a granola bar from pret.) as "she earns a lot more than me, darling", so my co-worker in her mid fourties - a really nice, cordial person. I appreciate the gesture, but I will make it up to her next week, I don't like to be kept.

Off-work:

Tuesday was HARD. As I said, I did not have any trouble getting to work on Monday, so I was so stupid to not really check how it is going to be the next day. Northern Line's running. Great I thought. Too bad that half of the stations were closed (which they only told you right before you reached them...), including mine. Alright, plan B. Wait until whatever-station-it-was, jump on the District Line to Westminster and walk - that is not too far away. You see the place from work. No biggie. Well it did not turn out. End of story, I had to walk all the way from Waterloo Station to Vauxhall which is not TOO long - only when it's early and you need to get to work on FRICKIN TIME ON YOUR SECOND DAY! I am actually proud of me that I was only 10 minutes late, if I had chosen the bus, I'd been there later. Trafficjam deluxe as everybody was freaking out due to the strike. I got home by overground. Works just as well, but I still don't like it for some reason.

Wednesday after work I finally met Katja! As I wasn't sure the strike would not affect Wednesday as well, we met at Westminster Station - right before Big Ben (I know it's the bell, but still sounds good). She lives in London for one and a half months now and still never got off the station there!!! So it was a good place to meet.





There was a little rainshower right before, but as the sun was shining again, we saw this: 

Double Rainbow! What does it mean? (get it)

After aimlessly (really) walking around for a while, looking for a place to get something to drink, we decided to go to Oxfort Circus (I had not been there so far this time in London). I had the longest run ever to get to the proper train on the tube ever ever! It can be a real maze down there.

Having arrived there, we went to one of those Bella Italias you can find from time to time (seems like half of the restaurants belong to some kind of franchise in LDN), with an unfriendly bitchy waitress that refused to bring us food outside while we watched another table having a feast (no tip for you Russian waitress - Katja noticed - with skanky clown make-up). Afterwards we took a stroll again around the area, saw the Liberty right at the Café,

a guy playing the keyboard while a blonde girl performed oral sex on a saxophone (it MUST have been her intention, I can't think anything else the way it looked), got some free fans at a Mango, and - the best of all of those - girls with a wig dancing to Don't Stop Believing at another clothing store.

I will try to upload the videos this night or tomorrow.

That was Wednesday. Thursday I had my first real panic attack ever in my life, but first the good part:

After work, I decided to go down to Brixton again and eat some good, warm meal after quite some time (remember the Döner incident, please). First I wanted to go to London town and have something Japanese, but I realised I was actually craving for something jerked. Still a bit careful after the Döner, I played it safe and went to the same restaurant I was with P before exactly one week prior. This time, I had Jerk Lamb with plantain along with some Guiness punch again. So, so GOOD! There was more marinade on the meat than on the chicken before, hence even more flavour. Look at it, it really does not look fancy, maybe even weird for some people because of the dark colour, but it is all about the FLAVAH. Next time I'll have goat maybe, who knows. The staff and friends/family/whatever who came in meanwhile gave me one of these slightly irritated but appreciating looks and one women asked whether the food was good (" daaarlin' "). Maybe because I came alone, maybe because I was the only person there or maybe because I am not Caribbean, who knows.

Now the horror. I mean, really. "Home", right before I was going to bed, I came up again after brushing my teeth and found this right next to my pillow (only still alive, of course).

See, I'm an arachnophobic, and I don't mean as in I'm disgusted/afraid by spiders (that would not be a phobia), I mean the real deal. I panic. Thank god the adrenalin let me keep my head clear, so I took the first book I could grab (sorry "Annotated Alice") and pressed it so hard on that MOFO until I heard it cracking THREE times. HUGE FUCKER, ON MY BED. NEXT TO MY PILLOW! HUGE FUCKER.  What followed was a nightmare of cold sweat, panickiness and paranoia, all while searching through the whole place pinnickly. My reaction had never been that bad. I don't mind small spider (anymore), even the big ones would not startle this much elsewhere, except in the bedroom. I cannot sleep in a room where I know there is any kind of spider, but THIS was way more than I could have handled. LOOK AT IT. That was bad. Really, really bad. But other people can't understand anyway. Cold sweat. whole body.

I said sorry to my host for all the noises, explaining her the reason and showed her that picture. "She would have shat herself". Soviel dazu. She gave me some spray.

Yesterday I came back from the pub with some Fish'n'Chips (last time I ate: 10 am, remember), where I was greeted by one of the same kind in the corridor, not that big than the one before but still. I sprayed the shit out of that thing I thought I'd get unconscious. There was another spray there so I used both simultaneiously.

Later, I did like she told me: sprayed the room, left it for ten minutes and came back. After 30 minutes I saw another one in my room again, only half the size, same kind. While I handled that one way better, falling asleep will still be hard for the next days or weeks. I really checked everywhere the night before, closed all windows and checked everytime I left the room, putting a scarf underneath the door. Still. Another. Bloody. Spider. I don't mind insects at ALL. Just spiders. Two nights to remember. Now it is Saturday and I spent half the day blogging and washing my clothes meanwhile. I'll leave now for the festival at the Thames today and tomorrow. I'll keep you informed. ;)))