Nearby points of interest

Despite living in the London boondocks of Wandsworth, I have noticed this far-flung suburb has its fair share of urban curiosities.

- The Royal Victoria Patriotic Hall is literally right next door to my apartment building. This Victorian monstrosity has existed as a orphanage, a hospital and German spy detention center. Lauren tells me there are tunnels linking the basement to the nearby Wandsworth Prison. Oh, and the building is haunted.

- As mentioned in an earlier post, I'm within a 7 minute walking trip to the UK's largest prison, the Wandsworth Prison. All but hidden from view by busy Trinity Road, this 160 year brick complex has held it's fare share of celebrity ne'er doers over the years.

- One of the rail lines that hem in my neighborhood was the site of an unfortunate train crash in the 80's. A humble memorial is dedicated to the 35 victims of the Clapham Junction Rail Crash and is located next to the sidewalk I stroll by every time I go to Clapham Junction.

- Clapham Junction Railway Station is one of the busiest train stations in Europe. A 15 minute walk will take you to the station and anther 10 minute overground train journey will take you over the river to Victoria Station - my favorite London train station.

- There's a 100+ year old fire station down Trinity Road.

- Chez Bruce, London's "favorite" restaurant, is on the other side of the common from where I am. Lauren and I might pop in tonight and drain our bank accounts.

Thats all for now folks. As I continue to uncover hot spots I'll be sure to post em up.

Oh no, snow

With great unenthusiasm I can officially announce London is experiencing its first snowfall of the season. 

I stepped out of the apartment this morning and into a cold mix of rain and snow. It was just warm enough for the snow to melt as soon as it made landfall.

It caught me completely by surprise as this was maybe only the 2nd or 3rd time I've left my apartment in the morning for work and faced inclement weather. 

Winter, it would appear, has finally arrived. 

Me commuting to work.

Tidbits from the past week

- Observed a man chase after a woman exiting an underground train only to watch him hand the woman her wallet. It must have fallen out of her purse as she got up to leave. Hope in humanity partially restored.

- Also on the underground, a seat opened up next to man A and woman A. Man A offers the empty seat to woman A, she politely declines. While Man A insists, another woman, woman B, spots the vacant seat and proceeds to snatch it up. Oblivious to woman B, woman A finally caves and proceeds to sit down just as woman B does. Much awkward fumbling and apologizing ensues. Woman B eventually gives the seat up to woman A.

- Was slapped with my first council tax bill. Council tax pays for local services like police, fire, garbage collection, libraries etc. I owe £120 and change by January 1st. The tax would be higher but since I am living with two students the Queen gave me a 25% discount.

- Started Christmas shopping - for myself. Lauren and I went to this massive mall on Saturday complete with an ice rink. I bought a personal record of 3 pairs of shoes for myself.  To be fair its been almost 16 months since I've purchased any footwear. Also, some stores were so busy there were lines outside like you see at night clubs.

San Pedro's Landslide making headlines in London

Pedro escaping into the Pacific

Video of Saturday's mission to the Tate and Borough Market

Click Here

The only photo I took of our trip to the Tate Britain

Can you guess who got what? 

Am I said I'm missing out on Thanksgiving? Yea, sorta. But to be honest the only time I lament its celebration is when people mention it. Considering this food fest of a holiday is MIA on this rock, it's never  brought up, therefore I hardly think about it.

Check out the picture I snapped of myself with the handy dandy webcam built into my even handier and dandier IMac.

Working hard.

Video

In case reading about our trip into town wasn't enough, you can relive part of the journey with this video I shot. Sadly the memory card ran out room before I could capture more exciting moments. Anyway, enjoy.

Occupy London Continued

So, after a quick train change at Victoria we finally made it to St. Paul's Cathedral - ground zero for the London franchise of the Occupy movement. Note, I'm no Ansel Adams so my photos aren't anything to speak of, but they do give you something to look at as you gloss over the text. Eventually I'll get a proper camera and take quality photos to give you a better idea of what's going on.

Lauren and I approached the church from the backside and initially did not see any activity. We rounded a corner and immediately came across tents hugging the walls of the church.

Hippy shantytown or noble protest site? 

The area was lively. Police officers, tourists, journalists and protests were all mingling about. The camp was freely accessible to the public. We were allowed to walk around the tents without any trouble.

The majority of the tents were for habitation but a number of them had been set aside for specific uses. Among others we saw a University Tent, a food distribution tent, and several journalism and media broadcasting related tents.

The Occupy London Times 

Broadcasting tents of some capacity

The front of the church saw the most activity. A man with a megaphone was yapping about pseudo religious topics to a crowd mostly composed of curious tourists. We saw a handful of people wearing Guy Fawkes masks and wearing Anonymous shirts. For people watchers like me this place was a gold mine.

Mega phone guy

 It was nice to check out the camp in person after reading about it almost daily. Time will tell if anything meaningful will come from the occupation but I wish them the best of luck.

Saturday

 Saturday was a busy day for Lauren and myself.

Lauren had a doctor's appointment at 10 am, so we woke up bright and early at 9.

Hurry up Lauren, we'll be late! 

A 15 minute walk later we found ourselves inside Heritage Medical practice, our local doctors office. Situated inside in an house on Northcote Rd, Wandsworth's busy commercial street, my visit to this office would be my first exposure to universal healthcare - a foreign concept to an American like me. Lauren recently registered with this doctor and was able to land an appointment only a week or so later. Considering it was a Saturday, the office was relatively empty. The wait wasn't too bad either. We were out of the office in 30 minutes. Hooray for socialism!

Next stop, Starbucks. I was surprised to find coffee on this rock was given to you in straight mugs (if you're sitting in) instead of paper cups like they do in America Land.

Here Lauren finished her portion of our letter to my friend Patrick. He is currently making his way through boot camp in Georgia.

After a quick stop at the post office to mail the letter we hopped on the overground to the center of London.  This is the abandoned power station at Battersea viewed from the train. Plans are in the works to convert the area into a bustling city within a city.

Our first destination was the Occupy London camp. Ahh we're getting close!

To be continued...

The Night Before Bonfire Night

London is alive with fireworks this weekend as Britain celebrates Guy Fawkes Night, or for the PC observers, Bonfire Night. Check out this video I shot this evening of some of the festivities.

In other news, I sat next to a golden retriever on the Tube tonight. Commuters around me would normally have been miffed at the thought of a coveted seat being occupied by a K9, but it was such an adorable dog he received more friendly pets than scowls.

Commute

Best part about my commute: all the free newspapers and magazines. For my morning commute I snag me a copy of the Metro. On my return trip I grab a copy of the London Evening Standard. For someone that read the LA Times daily back home, the Metro and the LES are a welcome replacement. Occasionally content overlaps between the two papers but other than they are fun a read and they keep me up to date on happenings here in London and worldwide.

Thursdays are a bonus day because the weekly free magazine,The Shortlist, comes out. The Shortlist is a magazine for all things male - movies, technology, sports etc. Don't worry women you're not left out, the female equivalent, The Stylist, comes out every Wednesday.

Part of their appeal is the British sense of humor that's reflected in their writing. The sarcastic commentary, dry wit and funny photo captions contrast sharply with the formal American journalism I'm used to.

Only in London...

...Will you hear American accents from people who are not Americans.

Last night Lauren and I went to a friends Halloween party - at least I think it was a Halloween Party, decorations were plastered everywhere but costumes were non-existent. Anyway, I heard a group of people chatting away who I would have bet my life on were Americans. I butted my way into my conversation and learned one was from South Korea, one from Belgium, another from Turkey and the last was British but spent time in the US as a child.

Along with McDonald's and Starbucks, it looks like we've exported our accent.

Work photos

Photos from my workplace. 

I'm forced to use a Mac. #firstworldproblem. 

View from my desk. That would be my cup o coffee in the foreground

Office shot.

Another office angle.

Outside view from my desk. My boss uses the computer on the left.

 Hackney street scene.

View from the office looking south. My building looks similar to the 5 story building in the center of the photo.

Cheerio.

Brit Speak

Funny British pronunciations of common words.

Oregano - Ore-ee-gahn-o
Tortoise - Tore-toys
Aluminium - Al-you-min-e-um
Stipend - Stip-end

I'll expand the list as I come across them. I know there are more, I just can't recall them at the moment.

Picture Hour

Aftermath of the August riots, Clapham Junction.

 15 minute walk from our apartment.

 A sunny day in Wandsworth Common.

 Well manicured bowling green, Wandsworth Common.

 Cheese Toasties..

 Nearby upper middle class hood.

 Mainline to London.

 Northcoate Road, Clapham Junction.

Our busy living room. Lauren on the right, Amy on the left. 

Summer

Out of the 20 days I've been here it's only rained once. Sure it's been occasionally cold, sometimes overcast with  an errant gust of wind, but other than that, we've enjoyed unseasonably warm, dry weather. In contrast to this past summer where monsoonal rain and cooler temperatures were the norm. It would appear summer has hit London fashionably late. Timing couldn't be better considering my arrival.

Last night I was told I sound like "I came straight out of the tele". I'm forgetting how different I sound to the rest of the population as my ears becoming accustomed to the various accents.

Today Lauren and I registered with a local NHS doctor. The doctor's office, or surgery as they're refereed to here, is located in an old house. The living room is receptionist office and the kitchen area is now the waiting area. Certainly different from what I'm used to. It will be interesting to see what treatment is like.

This and or that

Interesting article about the hood my office is located in: Linky . Old Street is my Tube stop.

I'm slightly offended at the opening sentence!

Fyi, Lauren and I strolled by the prison entrance on Sunday during a break in her work. Aside from the dozens of cameras pointed in all which directions, the place has the grandness of most buildings built here in the 19th century. I'm hesitant to take photos of it for obvious reasons!

Also, last week I passed a restaurant called "The Chicken Cottage". The jolly, friendly name reminded me of that seafood joint next to the Condo on PCH, Fish Camp.

Edit: It should be noted that the article is not *about* the area I work in, but it mentions it as well as California, so I thought it was relevant blog material.

Prison Time

So, over a round of drinks last night I found out I live about 1000 feet from London's largest prison, HMP Wandsworth.

The prison is home to a slew of infamous criminals including at one point Julian Assange of Wikileaks fame. I've walked by the joint numerous times but thanks to clever landscaping never noticed its existance. Creepy stuff.

I recently read that The City of London - the square mile sized financial district in heart of the city - has had all but 19 streets blocked off. This was done in 1993 in response to IRA terrorism threats. 2 cameras are positioned at the entrances of each street, one to record the car and license plate and the other to record the driver's face. I went from having a big sister to having a big brother.

First of all, help! Some how the language on blogger.com has been switched Vietnamese. Diddy mao.

Chrome has offered to translate the page for me into English. Thanks, bro.

Anyway, today was my second day of work as an intern (paid) for a nascent web start up. I interviewed with them on Tuesday and was offered the position that afternoon.

I made an utter UK noob mistake right before the interview. So I get to the building, hit the buzzer and Tim, the guy I'm meeting with tells me go to the second floor. Alright cool. So I walk up one set of stairs on an ancient wooden staircase, pass a fire place, and enter the double doors ahead of me. I pass through another door and find myself in an office with a couple guys huddling over some tables. They hear the door open and look over their shoulders to meet my eyes. "Hi, uh is Tim here?" I stammer. They respond with a confused looks. "Nope, not here mate" says one. Crap, I think. Then it hits me like a ton of bricks, I'm actually on the first floor. In the UK they count our first floor as the ground level, so our second floor would be considered the first floor here. So I flip a B,  head out the doors and come face to face with Tim, who said, after introducing himself, that he figured I'd make this mistake.

The interview went well, was relatively informal. He asked me the usual interview clichés and I answered with my well rehearsed, carefully prepared responses. He then asked me what areas of the company I'd be interested in participating in. Figuring most of the work would be IT related, and area I have zero experience in, I told him marketing is of interest to me - despite also having zilch experience, but I figured I could learn it relatively quickly. Ah, but I have learned, quickly, be careful what you wish for.

Two days later I'm up to my bushy eye brows in direct marketing techniques and print media nonsense. Despite having a marketing agency on their payroll, they've made me their sole in-house marketing guru. And by guru I mean bumbling idiot.

So far however, they've liked the drivel this guru's cranked out.

The office is actually a large open air, live work loft style deal. It's a corner unit with large windows and we all sit around tables like a university computer lab, but with much more room. I heard the unit is worth more than a million pounds and this company pays in excess of 5,000 lbs a month to rent the joint. Apparently Keira Knightly lives up stairs from us. There are 7 employees, down from 8. At the end of the day one of the interns was sacked. Lacking in enthusiasm was his downfall. The other intern is from Nepal. I don't think I've ever met someone from Nepal in my life and was impressed when I was able to explain roughly where it exists. Booyah, geography skills.

The surrounding hood is very busy, tons of street and foot traffic. We're either located in Hackney or Shoreditch. I keep getting conflicting information on which. The Old Street tube stop is a 7 min walk away. By the way, thanks to some signalling issues or someone on the tracks, something like that, the train sat idling for 15 minutes half-way between two stations. My second day of work and I'm already late. My boss, Tim, was sympathetic however. Don't make it a habit he said. Tell that to the Northern Line :/

Departure

I feel blessed. I've read horror stories of international couples struggling for years to get their partner a visa, spending thousands of dollars on immigration lawyer fees, or getting denied entry to the UK at Heathrow and booted onto the first plane back to the US, regardless of its destination. It was a relatively painless and simple process for me. A couple birth certificates, documents confirming I was not adopted, $233, and several passport photos later a red booklet with a coat of arms on the cover showed up on my doorstep. It was through complete luck that my mother was born in the Kingdom and that citizenship is transferable. Had that not been the case, grad school or the M word would been my tickets in.

Another 4 months later, I breezed through customs at Heathrow. Other than a "Cheers", the immigration officer didn't utter a single word to me. He scanned my British passport, handed it back to me and waved me on. I was concerned I'd be the subject of intense scrutiny, much like American citizens are when we return to the States. I had a whole list of prepared responses to the IO in case he started inquiring about my nationality  and why my accent did not sink up with the passport. But alas, all for nought.

By the way, dig the unprentious blog name? I considered using some witty, pun filled title but opted out when I decided I didn't want to look like a complete d-bag.