Sas is digging the sun

Bangkok day 4. This morning I moved from a swanky hotel to one of the very few hostels in town. Nice homey feel, they even do a new years gift swapping thing the 31st. Loads of comfy chairs and stuff and a large room (en suite, by myself, my dorm days are well and truly over). All good. Will miss the pool tho, how nice it is to lay on a 16th floor rooftop sunbed overlooking the city! New place is in a slightly seedy street off Sukhumvit. "We offer confidential and massage" (sic) kinda signs in the shops. The sex tourism is one thing I will never ever get used to, it is so disgusting. And there's a fair bit of it in this part of town. And my god, the men are ugly. If not by nature, than self inflicted. As much as I love tatoos, a tattooed had is just a no. Also like to be able to see some skin on upper body and arms.

Finally decided what to do after coming back from Hong Kong. Decided I do need my beach fix, so booked a flight to Krabi to stay in a simple resort that you can only get to by boat. Not as 'The Beach' as it sounds, pretty touristy, but should be fine for 2.5 days.

Update:
The buggers were fully booked. Half an hour later I still hadn't found anything decent on the net apart from the Sheraton. Fourtyfive minutes later I had booked the Sheraton. Sod it, I'm on holiday. And on the euro rather than the pound (who'd have ever thought that'd be a better option?!). So five star resort....I am ready!

Bangkok

"My name is Saskia and I have an internet addiction." "You're so brave Saskia." (is that what they say at AA meetings?) Ah well. After two 6 hour flights and very (very!) little sleep, this is a good way to stay awake for another hour or two so jet lag won't kick in too badly. Gatwick was deserted yesterday, even most shops were closed (which is probably not a bad thing considering I have a lot of shopping time in Bangkok and Hong Kong). Flights were fine, and I got to watch Mamma Mia (James Bond can't sing to save his life which makes it all the better, what a fab film), listen to Pete Murray's new album and to Estelle's not so new album. Emirates chucked in The Economsit, InStyle and Hello magazine as well. The new Patricia Cornwell was finished in no time too. Dubai airport wasn't as fab as Abu Dinges (as bro calls it), but the sheiks in their headthingies are a pretty awesome sight, I felt like taking part in a Tin Tin cartoon.

Being the keen traveller that I am, I managed to have five currencies on me but the Baht. Which I didn't discover until I handed the cabby 1000 riel for the highway and he asked if I had any Thai money. Aaaargh. Luggage guy at the hotel was so kind to pay my taxi from his own wallet (and I reimbursed him of course). Saved me a 20m walk to an ATM which the cabby and luggage dude decided was no option. Cabby was the sweetiest guy who spoke very little english and seemed utterly unimpressed by my Thai (after six visits I can still only say hello and thank you). Thought it was pretty cute he kept referring to NYE as Happy New Year. Apparently the place goes off on that night. Cannot wait to celebrate with Scott and Anso.

Merry christmas all

Not x-massy, but one of my fav songs (from the Dublin-made film Once, with Frames singer Glen Hansard) and the melody is right for this time of the year!

Almost there

Two more sleeps and I'll be on that plane to Bangkok. And man, do I need it. Was I fine with years of not going on hols at uni, since I started working I do struggle to go for a whole year without going on holiday. This year a lot of my time off was used to pack, move and find a new pad. Three days in Italy were lovely, but not enough to recharge. Two more work days and off I am. Can. Not. Wait.

A bit of Bridget?

For years, my uncle has been comparing me to Bridget Jones. I'd always written it off as a bunch of b*llocks, assuming he hadn't seen the film. Then again, neither have I. Yesterday, a friend compared my London life to that of Bridget Jones. So I thought I'd do some research, and see how much of a BJ I actually am. Not much, I decided.

1. I do not fancy my boss. Nor do I fancy a man who wore a reindeer jumper when we first met.
2. I do not own a rabbit suit.
3. I do not keep a diary of ciggies and alcohol intake.
4. I do not own a pair of grandma knickers.
5. I never answer the phone saying I am a sex goddess with a very hot man between my thighs.
6. I've never had to leave my job cause I shagged my boss.
Then again, I am completely useless and utterly immature when I fancy a man. I am an appallingly bad public speaker. And I have once had two men physically fight over me....

Take that

Unlike many girls, I was never a Take That fan. I didn't shed a tear when they broke up. Take that was for utterly stupid girls who knew bugger all about music. Shamefully, I have to admit that I now quite like them. They were on the beeb yesterday, and I am now rewatching the show (not for them, but because I missed the first 1,5 hours) and actually think they're quite cool. Then again, I also think Girls Aloud are pretty cool. Would my musical taste be deteriorating?

Christmas party

Well well, I am still eagerly awaiting experiencing a proper english x-mas party. Yesterday's party was nice, but very demure. Noone got very drunk or embarassed themselves. One guy did manage to spil beer over my Mulberry bag and new coat but he was clumsy rather than drunk. It was all lovely, and we were given a small bottle of Moet on the way out but a proper english office x-mas party? Nope. Maybe next year?

Single

The whole single concept does suit me. Loads of hobbies and heaps of friends mean I am never bored and not having another half taking up time means loads of time for gym and friends. However, there are times being single sucks. Like at weddings. And like moments when you are really thirsty, really lazy, and really have your eyes glued to the footy. And when there is noone you can ask to make you a cuppa. Damn.

Freedom

Papers and tele today talk about a London doctor in her early fourties who went missing. Or missing...police suspect her parents are holding her against her will, forcing her into a marriage in Bangladesh. I feel for her, and it is awful but somehow it didn't quite surprise me so much as the convo I had with a Singaporean colleague last week. She is going home next month, after a year in London. A year of freedom. When she goes back to Sing, she will move back in with her parents, aged 29. There is just no alternative. If you are single, you live with your parents. Easy as that. So from total freedom in Europe she goes back to very little freedom, despite the good relationship she has with her parents. She told me one can't even legally buy a house in Singapore as a single under-35-yo. One of the things I most treasure in life, is my freedom. For the past 16 years, I have lived by myself. Made my own mistakes. Celebrated my own successes. Being increasingly less dependent from relo's and more so from friends that I turn to in times of trouble (and fun, of course). I feel for my colleague, and for the Bangladeshi doctor. How hard must it be having known so much freedom and losing it?

And I was working from home today :-)

"London News: Tube bosses warn Friday 5 December will be the busiest day ever in the history of the Underground

COMMUTERS face Tube hell as bosses warn today will be busiest day ever in the history of the Underground.An estimated 80,000 additional passengers are expected on the Jubilee, Northern and Piccadilly lines alone – the equivalent of Trafalgar Square filled eight times over."

Good timing, Saskia. The Jubilee line is the line I take every day. And I so do not like feeling like a canned sardine!

Boring babe

Another week gone. A partly fun week, as Elena stayed here for two nights. But a boring week otherwise. Work, gym, sleep, or work, read, sleep tend to be my standard days. Next week won't be any different. Even my weekend will be gym, read, sleep, although am meeting friends for Dim Sum on Sunday. I just so want to go on holiday. In less than three weeks I will be in my beloved Bangkok. And when I come back, I hope to be a re-energised, not so boring babe!

Thanksgiving

This year, I had a Vietnamese-American/Vietnamese-Australian/Chinese/Japanese/Dutch Thanksgiving. With Chinese fried rice, Vietnamese chicken-mint salad & spring rolls, French Moet, Japanese whiskey and English apple pie. Some American, Dutch and Japanese music finished off a truly international celebration. Five non-English, together in Heather’s wee apartment in Putney. Good food, good wine, and more importantly, good company. Just the way Thanksgiving should be. Turkey or not!

To do

I should be cleaning the house, doing my nails (toes and fingers a mess), cross referencing a gazillion spreadsheets, take out the garbage and paper, collect a parcel at the concierge and do god knows what. Instead I am off to bed, read A Thousand Splendid Suns and fall asleep knowing I will feel much better tomorrow. Yoga, a wee bit of shopping and a belated Thanksgiving dinner is just what the doctor ordered. Bloody hell, how tired can one be?

Drama drama

Since I have moved to the UK three biiiig things have happened. The banks started going bust. Russ and Ross misbehaved on air. John Sergeant left Strictly. One might argue Barack Obama winning the US elections was also a big thing, but judging by the attention in the papers, it wasn't. It was more or less up there with Hamilton winning the F1. Now I have to admit I read Metro, London Lite and London Paper during the week. Not quite your Guardian or Times. So maybe a day-to-day Guardian reader would have a different perspective.

Anyway. That last biiiiiig thing. John Sergeant, the dancing pig on Cuban heels. When he decided to leave Strictly this week, BBC flagged it as Breaking News on their website. My (male) colleagues were in shock. The country was outraged, and even MPs felt the need to publicly express their opinion on this. Shocking. One aspect of English society I so do not understand.

Weekend

A fun filled weekend. The Leonard Cohen concert on Friday was amazing, all 2.5 hours of it. Amazing how a man his age can still perform like that. He had an amazing band, sang all my fav songs and I was really moved by it all. Amazing, to use that word for a fourth time...

Then yesterday was my introduction to Twickenham. Pub, Hodge's (a mate of a mate who lives near the grounds with his wife and three gorgeous daughters), match, Hodge's, pub. Then Burger King on the way home. Keeping up with Australian men is not a clever thing, as my hangover told me this morning. Must have had about ten pints. 30 laps in the pool and 10 minutes in the steam room got rid of most of the hangover but I still feel a bit rough.

Time flies

Not only did this week fly by, the last couple have just gone so fast. And when I saved a document under 14 November today, I was slightly shocked to realise it was, indeed, mid November. Six weeks and the year will be gone! A year of many changes: from injured and hungover in weekends to sensibly drinking gym bunny, from Amsterdamer to Londoner, from having friends living close by to having friends an hour away from where I am, from village to big city. I cannot believe how much has happened in the past year and how fast it has all gone. 40 sleeps and I am off on my hols. Ending the year in South East Asia, a few hundred kilometers from where I started it. The excitement is slowly building up. Six weeks of work left. Let them fly by!

Stuff

Leonard Cohen gig, England-Australia @ Twickenham, another dinner at the Commonwealth club, Annie Leibovitz exhibition, Manon (a ballet) , Donovan Frankenreiter gig and a daytrip to Brighton. All in the next two weeks. How exciting!!

Christmas - part 2

It is not yet sinterklaas. It is not yet thanksgiving. I have accepted the presence of christmas stuff in the shops (and secretely was happy about it as I needed chrissy food for my folks). But christmas commercials on tele is just not on. I don't need to wear a coat yet. My street is still covered in yellow leaves. Let it be autumn first. And then worry about christmas. Silly poms.

Mix and match

One of the things I love most about working in London is the diversity. In the advisory FS (Financial Services) group in Adam we had some foreigners, but not many. Here, the team of about 30 includes people from the UK, Pakistan, India, Iran, Singapore, France, Czech, South Africa, Canada, America and Holland. A fantastic mixture. And since yesterday, China can been added to the list.

The British and Chinese governments sponsor a training scheme for young Chinese graduates. Companies like ours, JP Morgan and Accenture have implemented the program. Ten very talented chinese students, one of whom is in my team, have joined the advisory FS practice here. Yesterday we took three of them out for lunch, a proper English pub lunch. The three graduates were just lovely. One was a big fan of Dutch football, which made for good convo. England must be a complete culture shock for them. Imaging being so young and living in a completely different culture, not having left your own country before. They'll stay with us for nine months, and then join the Chinese firm. There will be a lot of mutual learning in these nine months!

Sleepy

It's kinda stupid to try and stay awake for the election results, knowing there is no way I will be staying up all night (well, I could do what bankers do and get some charlie, but let's not start that habit for the sake of an election night). Yet I so want to know the result when the rest of the world knows! The Blackberry is defo coming to bed with me tonight. And every time I wake, I will check. I will get up at stupid a clock to read the highlights. Off to bed now.

And back home

The weekend in the Dam was fab. Loads of great convo with friends, dinner with the folks, and even a walk in Westerpark on Sunday morning. And I so do not feel like working now!

Dambound again

Ah ah, one more workday and I am off to The Dam again! No weddings or work meetings this time, just a lazy weekend in good old Amsterdam. Staying with Vicky and Craig, ladies who....lunch on Saturday followed by dinner with the folks and beers in De Pijp and a Bakkerswinkel brunch on Sunday. I sincerely hope next week won't be busy workwise as I will need to recover big time.

To fully prepare myself for all this hardship, I will sprint out of the office at 5pm to get to the spa for a facial and massage. Then foodshopping for the English friends I am staying with this weekend. Then nothing. A whole lot of it.

Not so clever

Just like part of me refuses to grow up, part of me refuses to accept summer is well and truly over. Hence me leaving the house this morning with bare feet in ballerina shoes. Cold!!

Fashionorexic

The fashionorexic is hot in London. I'd be a lousy fashionorexic. I love fashion, but love food even more. A fashionorexic will happily eat two minute noodles for weeks to be able to buy Anya Hindmarch's latest bag or a pair of must have Louboutins. So I'd be a crap fashionorexic. But if the papers are to be believed, an increasing number of young women finds it easier to go without proper food than to give up on the lastest fashion. I do wonder though if these birds realise that missing out on loads of important nutrients will give them pale skin, crap hair and low energy. Not sure a Chanel dress will look so good on them a few weeks into their diets...

Sinterklaas

A sweet gift from a sweet friend. The two biggest chocolate letters I have ever seen. That will get me through the short and cold days up to Sinterklaas. Thanks Rishma!

Poppy time

In Flanders fields the poppies blow

Between the crosses, row on row,

That mark our place; and in the sky

The larks, still bravely singing, fly

Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead.

Short days ago

We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,

Loved and were loved, and now we lie

In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:

To you from failing hands we throw

The torch; be yours to hold it high.

If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep,though poppies grow

In Flanders fields.

(by John McCrae, May 1915)

New friends

When I came to London, my friend Zoe moved here with me. I have a couple of Australian friends here who I met in Sri Lanka, an English friend who moved back here from the Dam and I made a Dutch friend via a blog. And that was fine. I have enough friends in Amsterdam, enough in London and don't necessarily need the sometimes ridiculously busy social life I had in the Dam. Decided I couldn't be bothered to put effort into making new friends and rather spend my time chatting to old friends.

New Yorker Heather joined our team a month ago and asked if I wanted to go for dinner shortly after that. And that turned into a frequent thing. When she, english colleague Viv and I went for dinner last week, Heather invited an Australian colleague to come along too. And when Heather, she and I decided to meet for dinner tonight, the aussie brought another friend.

And so I found myself in a Thai restaurant with a Vietnamese New Yorker, a Vietnamese born Melbournian and a Thai born, kiwi bred Chinese whose family moved to Melbourne in his teens. The melting pot that is London. I just love it. And some new friends are worth the effort!

Commonwealth Club

Clubs are not something I am used to so much. Or rather, clubs in Amsterdam are rather different from clubs in the English sense. The Amsterdam ones tend to be called Club Prive or Club Ramona or something. The only two proper clubs I can think of are De Industrieele Club and De Kring, and as I am neither a top business/government exec nor an artist, I haven't been to either.

London is full of clubs, and one of them is the Commonwealth Club. My mate Zoe works for the Royal Commonwealth Society, who run the club, and use the profits for their charity work. Last night we met at the Club for dinner. Nice food, a beautiful restaurant, and a beautiful location: Northumberland Avenue. As I mentioned to Zoe, I will be more than happy to sponsor the charity more often by eating in this lovely place!

On the topic of Commonwealth countries: try and come up with all 53. We didn't get any further than 40. Way too many tiny islands in there!

Amazing

What a fantastic trip. Such a beautiful place. We walked, and talked, and ate our body weights in sea food. Beautiful local wine, way too tasty cointreau coffees. My legs hurt like hell from the gazillion steps we walked, but god was it worth it. Even the 100+ steps to my hotel room were rewarded with the most beautful sea view. The few days feel like a week. Three high light photos are below, Flickr tells the rest of the story.

This weekend

- The company of two English and two American 'Amsterdammers'

- Loads of nice food and nice wine

- A B&B and a little hotel with seaview balconies

- Hours of hiking

- Many megabites of photos

- Two two hour BA flights

- One leaning tower (and no, I am not going to Bedum!)

- Two one hour train rides

I have been looking forward to this weekend since July. Three nights only but I expect it to feel like a holiday. Cinque Terre, here I come!

Mid year

In an organisation like ours, there is a constant flow of appraisals on projects, deliverables et cetera. All of this comes together in an informal 'mid year' and a formal 'year end appraisal'. Today I had my mid year, three months into being here. Not that UK years have six months as opposed to twelve, but the appraisal year ends in March, hence the mid year being now.

I so wasn't looking forward to this. Don't think things are going too well, haven't been in a comfort zone in months and am not really feeling to happy about the work I do. Luckily the boss had a different view. My attitude rocks, I fit well in the team and overall he is just very happy to have my on board. The fact that his quality standards are a bit higher than mine is a very fair point so will improve on that. Big relief overall. Have been worrying for nothing, seriously wouldn't have been surprised if he suggested sending me back to the Netherlands. Stupid how my brain works....

Christmas

Christmas doesn't really do it for me. Too much food, too much tv, too much of much. And as my work doesn't really permit long holidays outside July/August or the Christmas period, I always escape the European winter for a few weeks in that period. Which means I have had many a great Thai or Australian christmas in recent years. Christmasses that involved nothing more than a curry in a plastic chair at the beach restaurant on Koh Samet or a picknick on Coogee Beach (with the exception of x-mas '06 that I spent with my mate Emily and about 40 of her relo's).

What I love however, is the whole x-mas build up. And London is the best place for this I think. That said, they do start a bit early. Where the americans wait for Halloween and Thanksgiving to be over, and the dutch don't really start after Sinterklaas, the poms start their x-mas season in October. At restaurants you will see the christmas dinners advertised, the supermarkets already stock christmas chocolate and the many card shops have christmas cards on sale already. When I passed Trafalgar Square on Thursday, the carols were being advertised, two months in advance. And I must confess, I slowly start getting into the mood. So far I have only looked at places to listen to the carols, but Handel's Messiah in Royal Albert Hall has been booked. And I have to admit, shamefully, that I also bought my christmas cards last week. But that is it for now. It is still 17 degrees and sunny, so no more chrissy until the days go shorter and the weather gets gloomier.

Pilates

Man, this better be good for you, it is such hard work! I feel like a wuss when looking at the two 60+ women who usually come to class. But slowly and steadily the exercises get easier. I bought a cheapo pilates dvd to do exercises at home too to speed up the process. It is very rewarding if things I thought I couldn't do are finally mastered. Like today, the star (on photo). Not every time I tried, as going from press up into this position requires slightly more core balance than I often have, but it worked a couple of times. The next challenge: sideways plank. And please please please let teacher Paul not resign. He is bloody awesome. Need him on my journey to fit bottomed girl!

Lovely day

My day off started with doing useful stuff. Catch up with the boss by phone, a run, cleaning the apartment, laundry, admin. Nothing exciting. When done, I gave Lynne a call and we agreed to meet at The Old Ship in Hammersmith to enjoy some riverfront wines in the sun. It was such a beautiful day, that we decided to take the bub and ourselves for a walk along the river to Westminster to take the tubes home. We did get all the way up to Putney, but found ourselves in a Thai resto in Shepherd's Bush with hubby and mate a few hours later. And now? Now I just want to sleep after all those hours outdoors and all that food. Zzzzzzzzz.

Change of plans

My hols were planned in July: couple of days in good old Bangkok, then off to Laos for two weeks. Then I found out good friends Scott and Anso from Melbourne were arriving in Bangkok on the 31st of December. How could I pass the change to spend NYE with them? So I decided to stay in BKK a bit longer, which leaves less time for Laos. And Laos deserves proper time. Fairly randomly I decided to give Hong Kong a go instead. When I mentioned that in my Facebook status so many people recommended it, that I have now booked. Will be in Hong Kong for 8 nights in January. Flight with Emirates, hotel with roof top pool on Hong Kong Island and loads of tips from friends and ex-locals on what to do. Less than three months away now, woohoo!

Shows

Ever since I saw 'Zeldzaam' aged 13 or so, I have loved musicals. In Holland I saw Les Mis twice, loved Aida, went to see Saturday Night Fever as my musical teacher had the lead role, and saw Miss Saigon. All fine and well, once I got used to the songs in Dutch. But London is just a different league. Before I moved here I saw Bombay Dreams on the day my nan had died, which made it hugely emotional and even more memorable. I also saw Chicago and We Will Rock You. All by myself, was generally here to see friends who weren't into that thing. Whenever I have friends in town myself however, I love it when they suggest to see a show. With Canadian Danielle I saw Wicked, with Italian Marianna I saw Les Mis, and Thursday I will go see Avenue Q with American colleague Heather. Don't think my Dutch friends are too keen on seeing shows... Avenue Q didn't appeal to me at first, but friends who saw it were raving about it, so I'm sure I'll love it too. It seems to be Muppets meets Sesame Street for adults. Update on Friday!

Tired body

My body is tired today. Not so strange, looking back at all the exercise I did this week. Steps class on Tuesday, 3k run on Thursday, 700m swim on Friday, pilates on Saturday and aerobics this morning. My ribcage and abs are so tight it ain't funny. A sixpack must be developing underneath the excess kilos. It's great to see my body changing and getting stronger. I know I had two options when I came to London: live a really healthy lifestyle with loads of sports and limited calories, or do the full-on expat thing and drink and party like mad. So far, I am glad I chose the former. Not only is it healthier and does my body look better, it also saves me a hell of a lot of money, that goes straight into my clothing budget. To the extent that I just bought a Nicole Farhi alpaca (lama-like animal) wool cardi. Elena can rest assured though. No new shoes since I last saw you!

Nice hot lattes

For almost three long months we tried. Sometimes it worked, very often we were just incompatible. My expectations just weren't met and I ended up unsatisfied well too often. Just too impredictable. So what does one do? Replacement is the only way. Despite its fancy SMEG label my mike just left me with burned milk and cold dishes. A new one was quickly ordered on Amazon. Black and shiny, it could have been a welcome addition to my kitchen. Had it worked. But it didn't. And 55 quid and 23 liters is a bit much for a clock, which was all it was. So Thursday night I went online, told Amazon I wanted to send it back and have it replaced. This morning the concierge knocked on the window, pointing at a big blue bag. My new microwave. Gotta love english customer service. And damn, those two lattes this morning were great. Silly, how a functioning mike can make one so happy!

He's quick, he's red, he speaks like Father Ted!

An opening goal by my fav dutch player. Keane's first for the reds and Stevie G's 100th. How f-ing cool! And at the same time one of these night's I'd have loved to be in Dan Murphy's with my mate Sat. But you can't have it all. And thank god for Facebook!

Christmas party

Yesterday I received my first Christmas party invite. Or rather, christmas lunch that will go on for a bit. I have had chrissy parties before of course, but not in England. And they are (in)famous in England. From my understanding, everone gets fuelled with enough booze to start their own Wetherspoons. If held in or near the office, you should have your bum photocopied. At least one person pukes in a plant, en someone will tell the boss what the team really thinks of him (my boss is safe from that I think, he's a great guy). A (dutch) friend of mine even managed to fall asleep in the loo on her first christmas party here and woke up in a locked and empty bar. Thank god for fire extinguishers and large windows (minor detail is she left her purse behind but she picked it up a few days later and noone ever suspected anything). Ours is on the 18th of December, so we can recover in the boss' time (Friday) as well as our own (Saturday and possibly Sunday). It will be a theme party. Belly dancing may be on the cards, which would be amazing. I have several colleagues whom I'd love to see making an arse of themselves belly dancing. Quite a few sleeps still, but exitement has kicked in already. Watch this space!

ps: anyone who hasn't heard of the british christmas parties: get a copy of the christmas special dvd of The Office - bloody brillant

My Sunday morning

Close to my home is this lovely place, overlooking the Thames and with the Gherkin in the background. On its left: dim sum resto. On its right: Italian resto's and the Four Seasons. Not bad!

Lacking inspiration....

....but here's a very useful word of warning re Panda Beer from my mate Dale. Well, useful if you ever go to Syria that is. Damn I wish I could write like him (then again, he is a journo and I am a finance nerd. Surely he must be wishing he as as good a finance nerd as I am. Or maybe not...).

"I’ve discovered the world’s worst beer. Panda Beer – which presumably gets its name from the fact that if you have more than one you wake up the next morning with two black eyes – has 11 percent alcohol content and leaves an aftertaste not unlike that created by the liquor distilled from used tyre rubber. I doubt that last tyre-rubber-liquor drink actually exists but if it did I would suggest that a ready market for it is available in Syria, although the life expectancy of its enthusiasts can’t be guaranteed. Holy hell, what a truly awful beer. I’ve consumed a fair number of the world’s endangered animals in beer form (Elephants, Tigers, Lions) but the Panda is the first to actually make me want to purchase a large calibre rifle and shoot its namesake. In fact, if I were a Panda, I’d get some legal representation and sue the manufacturers for undermining the good name of Pandas everywhere."

Speed dating

Never done it, never will. It sounds like an odd acitivity to me, but each to their own of course. London saw an interesting speed dating event last week I must admit. Apparently, Adelaide (South Australia) has a shortage of single females, and a surplus of jobs. So the local government decided to find some yummy South Australians (home to the mullet, let's hope they found some guys with proper haircuts), and 40 single pommie girls, and bring them together in a speed dating event in London. Haven't heard or read of any emigration of those yet, but will keep you updated of course. ;-)

Knackered

What a rollercoaster of activities and emotions.... One of my best friends visited me Friday to Sunday. Loads of talks as she is going through a rough time, nice dinners, Les Miserables and a long walk along the Thames. As soon as I'd dropped her off at Can Wharf, Frank was there to visit. Another walk along the Thames, a walk in Greenwich park and dinner. Twenty past nine and we were both in bed, too tired for words. Monday morning I left early to go to the Dam and I only just got back. Lovely being back in the home office. I got the best welcome possible, everyone was so excited to see me! And likewise of course. Dinner with some of the guys from the team, and an intensive meeting today.

And on the way home from the airport I had the best taxi ride ever. The old cabby was so super super friendly. He asked where I worked, and when I said London Bridge, he immediately knew the company. 'You guys are the only ones making money at the moment!' he said. Then we got into a whole discussion whether accountant or consultant was a more interesting role, both agreeing it was defo the latter. Almost home, he asked me if I was from Northern or Southern Ireland. He was not amused when I said I was Dutch, he really felt ashamed. I assured him I took it as a compliment, and really, the Irish are such lovely people you can barely insult someone with that. Finaly he gave in. We talked a bit more about accents and dialects and I was home. We then talked for another five minutes, until I really, really wanted to go inside. A lovely end to a lovely trip.

Lousy joke but funny for insiders

A/W

Autumn/winter. Buzzword in the clothing sections of the papers and magazines. And I laaaaaaaaaave A/W 08 daaaaahlins. Pussybows, checks and loads and loads of cardies. And in an attempt to do my bit for the UK economy, I went slightly nuts in French Connection today. A blue pussybow check shirt (two hits in one go), a very soft grey cardy with gorgeous buttons and a dark grey pussybow cotton dress. Just above the knee, but very suitable for work with leggings and heels (bearing in mind that my standards are still well below those of your average City girl). And the best thing: the dress is a size 38. Not that I've gone skinny all of a sudden, but the sizes at French Connection are very friendly for the mind. A nice thing when you're one a weightloss mission.

Thames Festival

What it was exactly, I wasn't sure, but I decided to go to the Thames Festival nonetheless. On day three of a four day hangover* (caused by impromptu drinks with colleague on Thursday, planned drinks with colleagues on Friday and visit of an Australian friend on Saturday...Monday was to be day four), I decided to be good and go to aerobics in the morning (still suffering from the previous arvo's pilates), and headed to the Southbank of the river afterwards.

Four hours later, I still didn't know what the Festival was. Food and drinks, that's for sure. Loads of foodstalls selling jerk chicken, sushi, curries, wraps and what have you. Some living statues and some jazz music. Jewelry and bags for sale. A rowing competition in old vessels (won by old men, I might add). The whole concept of the Festival never became clear. But who cares? It was warm, sunny and bright, I had my camera with me, and I had dinner and a boat trip to look forward to.

The free boat trip was organised by the Chiswick council (west London). I stumbled upon it online and booked it for my friend Chantal and me. We caught up over a quick bobotie-dinner and headed for the boat. Interesting commentary, interesting gin tonics and good company. Hadn't seen the city from the water before, let alone my office. We docked close to the London Eye to watch the Thames Festival (whatever that may be) fireworks. Loads of oohs and aahs. God, I love fireworks. Shortly before midnight I went to bed, to wake up to day four of my hangover the next day. The day described below. Probably for the best the head was a bit hazy.

* these days caused by five drinks only, I am either lacking practice or getting old. God forbid it's the latter.

Wth??

I have not had a stranger Monday morning. Ever. To come into work and find Lehman Brothers has gone bust, and Merrill has been bought by BoA is Big News. There was the weirdest buzz in the office. The secondee from New York seemed pretty shocked, most of us were mainly curious.

Few hours into the day we heard we are the administrator for LB's European business. Anyone who can spell FS (for Financial Services) is apparently lined up for the project team. Which means someone out there has very little confidence in my spelling abilities as I haven't had a call. So maybe we are actually trying to send a team with investment banking and capital markets experience. Of which I have none. I think I actually doubled my knowledge today just by reading the papers. But it is weird being here in this period. Even partners compare it to 1929 and we are all a bit afraid of what's to come.

I actually pass the Merrill and Lehman offices every day. I bet half of the guys I always see drinking at the pubs on my way to the gym won't be there tomorrow. How weird must it be coming into work on Monday morning, knowing things aren't great but assuming they're okish, and getting knifed like this? The paper mentioned a poor Frenchy who was a few days late for his first day of work (thanks to Eurostar), and ended up being fired on his first actual morning. Odd and exciting times.

Knife crime

Knife crime is hot in London. I lost count of the amount of teenagers killed by knife crimes this year, but I think it is well over 20, many of which took place in the 2.5 months I have been here. Noone seems to know what to do. Lily Allen met major Boris Johnson for tea to discuss it, but I don't think a sloany, no matter how wannabe-chav, really gets it. Her 'we need to have an awareness concert' hasn''t really materialised to anything. The council I live in, Tower Hamlets, doesn't quite get it either. They hired a reputable advertising agency to come up with this video. Somehow I doubt the kids who carry them are really that worried about being killed by their own knifes...

Bath was fab

And a few pics to prove it. Rest can be found on Flickr.

Paris

....and Bath. Man, do I travel the world and the seven seas! Bath on Sunday with Zoe, a daytrip by train. Am as excited as a kid going to camp (or Victoria Beckham in a Laboutin store, you get the drift). It's supposed to be really nice there, I love views from trains and I will get to do some photography. Then on Tuesday I will board a plane to Paris (I don't like trains enough to go Eurostar). Originally, I was due to fly home the next day, but I just had a call today from a Dutch colleague to ask if I could deliver a 'close to report'-training (finance process) with him for the Eurofirm University. On Friday. In Paris. Or Paris, Disneyland would be more accurate. So Tuesday to Friday I will wash my hair with Mickey shampoo, clean my fingers with Donald napkins and have a cuddle from Pluto before going to bed. Can't wait!

Amsterdam

Wow, what a lucky girl I am. Two days of great friends and great weather in the world's most beautiful city. The wedding was loving and sweet and beautiful and catching up with Erik and his 'jaarclub' was great. From 20 year old brats, they are now grown ups with grown up jobs and kids (well, most of them). And still great guys. The sunny post ceremony champers at the little church in Noord was just lovely. Both Saturday and Sunday morning I walked for ages along the Amstel, waiting for the city to wake up and feeling the sun in my face. A few hours with friends on Sunday were enough for dim sum, ice cream and a chin wag with all. All good!

Back to the Dam

One of my oldest friends, Erik, is getting hitched tomorrow in Amsterdam. So I have booked my flights, packed my suitcase and am off to City Airport in a bit. A suitcase for only two nights may seem a bit extravagant, but it is a proper wedding. With hats and all that. No hat for me tho, as apparently hat season is done with after Ascott and forking out £200 at Selfridges seemed a bit excessive. But two dresses, a clutch for the day and a small bag for the night and two pairs of heels take a bit of space. I don't think I will ever have looked so stylish. From the pedicured feet to the clutch, it is so not me! Or so not the old me, I should say. The new London-me likes stiletto's, girly dresses and nicely painted toenails. The old me is still there, of course. The girl boarding the plain will be wearing brown havaianas on her feet, clear nail polish on her finger nails as a DIY-colour-paint is still asking for trouble, and a simple top on a shabby pair of jeans. No make up, her in a messy bun. I will save all my not-so-effortless styliness for tomorrow!

Work?

Halleluja, it seems I may have a project. Part time, and two weeks only, but a project nonetheless. A colleague who is going on hols asked if I could cover for him in his project manager role. For those of you who are interested how MCEV and EEV relate and how this compares to IFRS profit: ask me all about this project. For the normal people amongst you: just be happy for me. I am actually one of those weirdo's who finds this very interesting. Or will that make you feel sorry for me?!

Long weekend

Pakistani dinner with Amsterdam friends (a very serious looking Sat in the pic on the left), running, swimming, aerobics and a music festival in Clapham Common (Loaded in the Park, with Kate Nash and loads of DJ's whose names I didn't quite get) were the highlights of this bank holiday weekend. Ah, and shopping. A gift from my nan bought me a gorgeous classic leather bag, a pair of knitted Ugg boots and Jo Malone's Wild Fig and Cassis cologne. One happy girl. Having just done 36 laps in the pool, I am quite sure the rest of my day will be spent on the couch. All relaxed and grateful for many things.

Beautiful

Sometimes I just forget how beautiful the Docklands are. On my way to and from the tube station, I like the view of the big tall buildings but that's it really. If i go for a run however, the beauty of my surroundings strikes me every time. Running along the Thames, I see the boats, the odd rower, the old City with its gherkin landmark. Running past Canary Wharf and back towards my place, there are so many ships, so many landmarks that remind of the original docklands, with the grain trade and all. The old big cranes that are no longer in use are a constant reminder of the local history. Might run to Greenwich next time, and explore another bit of this interesting part of London!

Boreout

If I do not slowly die of boredom, then surely I will suffer from a boreout very soon. Six weeks now of doing very little. I have become the go-to-girl for all shitty pieces of work. Proposal support on subjects I know nothing about, internal strategy documents, and so on. No problem normally but with no client facing work all of this just bores me to death. I knew this could happen, joining a new firm in the holiday period but it is starting to get to me know. A workfriend who is seconded to the Sydney office suffered exactly the same fate when he joined earlier this year and he is my chat buddy on many a morning now, trying to cheer me up. I keep going to the gym four times a week, keep trying to be cheerful and keep enjoying my nights and weekends. But bloody hell, the office is a tough place to be at the moment. :-(

Sports

Generally, I am an ABE supporter. Anyone but England. In cricket, ruggers or footy you will never see me cheer for England. But during these Olympics, I find myself genuinely happy for the English and their succes. Every time I hear God Save Your Queen (as the aussies sing it), my heart makes a quick jump. Super Saturday and Surprise Sunday or whatever they call it, have been amazing. They did so, so well, and the athletes interviewed on the Beeb were such great people. My heart will remain orange or green or gold and green (depending on the sports), but my temporary home is filling the wee spot in the corner.

Yoga

The intention was there. The Sweaty Betty bathing suit was there. But even after ten minutes in the steamroom there was no way I could simultaneously move my arms and legs. Which makes swimming kinda impossible. Even Phelps wouldn't be able to. So no swimming after my yoga class. I do like yoga. I like coming to class early and lie on my mat for ten minutes in complete silence. I like turning and twisting and stretching myself. I like the feeling after a good workout. But when the instructor said this would be a vigorous class, I was getting worried. He may have been on hols for three weeks, the class hadn't! I wasn't the only one struggling, but I was by far the most inexperienced of the people around me. Not only did this class get my hard racing more than I bargained for, but the positions! Don't know what they were all called, but picture standing on your left foot, with the left hand on the floor, right leg stretched towards the ceiling and twist your body as if you were in between two close walls and then look at your right hand pointing to the ceiling. Get it? I didn't.

So no swimming today. Instead I will go into town for a nice lunch, read the paper in a park and meet Canadian Danielle from the Dam for dinner and a show. Well deserved.

Feet

Looking for an investment? Buy stocks in band aid producing companies. I go through a pack a week. Surely, that must boost their profits. It's not that I got really clumsy or started cutting myself: it's the shoes. The London ladies tend to wear stylish shoes to work. I used to do jeans and nice sneakers on non-client facing days or jeans and flats if I felt stylish. Not in this country tho. And before, if I did wear heels, I'd walk from my car to the office or the client, which doesn't really add up. Not in this country tho. I walk at least 40 minutes a day. There is the flipflop option, that I sometimes use while commuting, but in the office I'm f&*ked. Since my arrival I bought two pairs of strappy sandals (that are awfully elegant and ok from a blister perspective just bloody hard to walk on) and two pairs of wedges (one giving me '9' blisters on a scale from 1 to 10, the other maybe a 7). Surely this must get better at some point. At which band aid sales in the UK will decrease notably. So better buy those stocks now, before my feet get used to belonging to a London gal.

Working from home

Picked up my wine rack from the concierge and filled it.
Got rid of the refuse.
Did my receipts filing.
Read Sunday's paper.
Watched some olympics.
Had a nice baguette with plakjes kaas.
Finished the last ten pages of Zest.
Bought sports clothes online at Sweaty Betty.
Played scrabulous.
Am ready to go for a wee walk when it is lunch time.
And I am getting through all the work stuff I had to do too!!! Looooooovely.

Saskia was home for a wedding

08-08-08

Working on this special date would just be wrong. So I took the day off. My fridge is empty bar some Tim Tams and OJ, so the first mission is the large Tesco in Can Wharf to stock up. Then it's off to Sloane Square to see how the high and mighty live. Windowshopping most likely, and a nice lunch. Tonight I'm meeting my mate Dale and some of his friends for dinner in Finsbury Park (which means I will travel all over the place today). I will be good tho, as I am on the red eye flight to Amsterdam tomorrow morning, to head straight from there to The Hague. My oldest friend is getting maried and I am the wedding photographer!! Very excited. I just bought a new portrait lense, which I'll take with me today to get to know it. Also looking forward to spend Sat nite with friends in the Dam too. Strange to visit home, but oh so nice!

Projects

Well well. After a couple of weeks of not having too much to do, my name now is in two proposals. One in Holland, one in Sussex. I guess there is a good chance I'll be living in a hotel soon... :-(

Englishness

Books

What is it with this guy Russell Brand? He wears make up. He talks funny. The couple of times I have seen him interviewed he talks shite on top of that. Yet his book My Booky Wook (now what kind of title is that....) stares at me from every bookshop in town. Get lost! Go away! Now a book that should be staring at every one, silently saying 'buy me, buy me' is Netherland by Joseph O'Neill. One of the best books I've read in years. Longlisted for the Man Booker Prize and favorite of the bookies. A story of London and New York post 9/11. About The Hague, about love, about friendship and to a lesser extent about cricket. A must read. Forget stupid wookybook...

Weekend

Totally knackered.... Work's not busy but nonetheless tiring. Or maybe tiring because of that. But tiring is not necessarily bad. Work's a good place to be. I really like my partner, team leader and coach, they're such great people. Some of my colleagues are just friendly and nice, others make me laugh all the time. I noticed this week we have Phil Collins, Harry Potter, Ron Weasly and Al Bundy look-a-likes. Not bad for a team of twentyfive. Or 24. As Ron Weasly had his farewell drinks last nite. Off to Melbourne, the lucky guy. A tradition he now wishes he'd never started got him dressed up as a carrot. He wore the orange gracefully. A day after making fun of the Dutch wearing orange. Nice timing.

Tomorrow is a busy day. Almost stressful. Yogaclass, sauna (I think, there is one in the gym so should try it), lunch with Zoe, facial, and a massage. Hard work for a Saturday! ;-)

And some pics of the current casa

Wet wet wet

Not here, don't worry. London is sunny now, was sunny yesterday and was actually sunny the past three weeks. Can't believe how wet it must have been in parts of the lowlands! The pics in the paper were shocking!

Went to Covent Garden yesterday to meet an old travel buddy (we met in the Alice in 2003) for lunch. I just stood in front of a shop and watched people for 20 minutes before meeting her. Amsterdam is surely not boring when it comes to the variety of people but London really is a different story. Amazing. Will go out soon with my camera and capture some of London's street life.

My body hurts everywhere from yesterday's yoga class which is kinda nice. The teacher said yoga is like cycling, and a four year gap in practicing yoga doesn't matter. I can assure you it isn't like cycling. Then again, I kinda lost the ability to cycle when I didn't ride my bike for a few years. So maybe it is just me. Aerobic's class in an hour, then head to town to get some bits and bobs for the house. Life is quiet and low paced and absolutely lovely.

A few pics (old apartment and view)

All done!

The billies and the ikea PS are assembled. The boxes are unpacked and the books are on the shelves, sorted by color as they were before (totally neurotic, I am fully aware of that). The bedroom looks like a bomb exploded but I am getting somewhere. It was one hell of a workout last nite but I managed by myself. Home is even homier now (the lillies on the coffee table help, too). I am meeting a handsome Australian journo for lunch (he's just a mate, mind you, but easy on the eyes is always pleasant). Live is good. And if BT could please fix my land line and broadband today, live will be even better.

Sporty spice

Not only did I go for a run yesterday (the first one since my bike-tramrail-accident), I also joined a gym. That itself doesn't make me sporty spice, but the intention is to keep running and to use the membership, so soon I'll be all toned from the yoga, pilates, aquarobic and other classes I intend to take. Now my old gym in the Dam is just your simple local small place. Nice and friendly. The Reebok gym I joined, is the size of three football pitches. Three floors of exercise. Sauna, steamroom, up to hair straighteners in the dressing room. The place is used by all the frustrated bankers nearby during the week, and will be used by yours truly in the weekends. Bankerfree is better I think. A new and improved version of Saskia should be available in a few months.

Pics

As my camera stuff is still in a box, I thought I'd just take the lazy option and post a few pics taken before I moved in. It's still the same flat and furniture only now it has a good amount of sasness over it.

In the news

Sydney magistrate before banning a man convicted of his seventh drink-driving charge from buying beer for 12 months: "Poor judgement on two counts there: drinking that much and drinking Melbourne bitter".

English newspapers publish so much non-news, it's fantastic. This one made me laugh for sure, can totally see an aussie judge make such a statement.

Chips

In the area around my office, there are loads of places to buy your lunch from. The obvious Boots, Starbucks and Pret but also a bagel place, sandwich/salad/jacked potato place, several resto's and god knows what. On Thursday and Friday Borough market is openened, a heaven for food lovers. So no complaints there. The one thing that annoys me is the chips stall closest to work. I love chips. But I try to stay clear from them, as they're not the healthiest lunch option. And this bloody chips shop just tests my will power every day when I go out to get lunch. The smell is just soooooo yummy. One of these days I'll give in, I'm sure. But so far I am strong!

Travel bug

Think I maxed out my credit cards (plural these days, work made me get a stupid amex for the phone contract) in the past week. Two weddings in the Dam in August, weekend in Cinque Terre with the girls in October, and Bangkok/Laos in December and January (flying home on a airbus 380, which I find as exciting as the trip itself). And had my bro not been travelling for six weeks, in Sept/Oct a trip to DC would have been added to that. Luckily some inward air traffic too, Marianna was the first to book a ticket and come over, and I am so dead excited about that!!!

Ah, and my boxes arrived today. And it became clear very quickly I have no storage space to speak of. Clothes are on the floor, booze is sitting on a shelf and the five boxes of books, cd's and other stuff won't get unpacked until Ikea has delivered my Billy's.

Shatwest

I always knew the Dutch bank system was ahead of most of the rest of the world, but Natwest are just totally backwards!!! One fuck-up after the other means I know have a debit card that was cancelled and all other stuff magically disappeared from this tiny little branch in a hospital they sent it to. Aaaargh. Thank god for my ABN Amro cards....

Busy bee

Dinner with Zoe in the docklands on Saturday. Drinks and dinner with a colleague on Sunday. Drinks and dinner with a friends' friend last nite and similar plans for tomorrow and Thursday. Tonight I am just staying in. Book, bath, and thinking of ways to murder a certain person (don't worry though, I won't execute!!).

In the office

When I had my interview with the partner in February, his PA collected me from the reception area with a large fruit basked in her hands. ' Is anyone ill?', I asked. But now, the UK firm gets daily fruit baskets for its staff so we stay happy and healthy. And as today was quiet, I feasted on a pear, banana and plum. There are also four gyms that offer corporate memberships for us, and there is support for our mental health too, by means of a coaching line or something.

The rest is good too. People are fun and friendly and have the cricket scores running in the background of whatever they are doing. The handsome director is leaving the UK for somewhere exotic and the funny-as-hell ginger guy is off to Australia soon. But plenty of nice people left. The partner walks around the floor and jokes, and seems as nice and human as the one at home.

Next step is to get myself on a project. So I show my nicest smile, talk to as many people as possible, and try to market myself well. Not tomorrow though. Tomorrow I am meeting a French colleague who needs some help, have my tax briefing by an Aussie woman with a Dutch name, and will meet a Dutch colleague who is in London for the weekend with his GF. After work drinks in Dutch tomorrow!

Miles and miles and miles

Fifteen minutes to the tube. Standing in the tube. Half a marathon in the tube stations when changing lines. Five minutes to the office. And all that twice a day. No big deal as such, were it not for the fact that I do this on heels. And I am a sneaker and flipflop girl, who partly converted to ballerina's when they became fashionable. Heels are fab when you drive your car to work, drive your car to the client, and drive your car back home. Or when you cycle to a bar, sit on a bar stool the whole night, and cycle home. Heels are awful when you do this marathon plus 40 minutes every day. Blisters everywhere, skin is not where it should be and my feet hurt like hell. Welcome to London.

Now I could do what many London women do, and wear sneakers, flipflops or flats to work and change into heels there. But that looks silly. And I decided to become all elegant now that I am here and looking silly is not part of the game plan. So I grind my teeth and go on with it. Poor stupid Dutch feet!!

Is that a crunch in your pocket?

From a London paper:
City boys are buying up huge quantities of Viagra to cure their poor bedroom performance - caused by the credit crunch stress. And lawyers, bankers and hedge-fund managers are ordering deliveries at the office to avoid awkward questions at home. The credit crunch and long hours have led to a surge in under 35s who need help.

The same paper explains how the credit crunch increase divorce rates. Women don't want to be married to poor bankers anymore, men decide to divorce whilst their salaries (and therefore the alimony) are at a low. Gotta love the City...

Comparisons

Hundred-and-something channels and still, I only watch the beeb. And I thought Dutch tv was crap... On the upsite, DVD's are cheap here and I found a dirtcheap book store on Charing Cross Road today.

Supermarkets are a blessing. When aussie friend Scott went back home he was looking foreward to supermarkets that made AH look like a 7/11. Rightly so. The Waitrose near me has fantastic flowers that are cheap too, a whole range of indian meals and loads of organic food. Love it.

When I came back from Oz, I really had to get used to dutch lunch again. Ham sandwich, cheese sandwich, glass of milk. Lunch here is hearty soup, sushi or salads from Itsu, Pret or E.A.T. Costs a fortune sometimes but damn tasty.

The Sunday newspapers....fantastic. In australia there was generally very little news in it. But here: weighs a kilo but so much good reading! Even the Metro is doable in the morning.

On my way to the tube, I pass at least six pedestrian crossings. And cars stop. Every time. Incredible.

The one thing I will not get used to: English bread. So anyone who will come and see me: a grof volkoren please!

Wimbledon

Wow. Quite something. From the friendly guards on the way to the grounds from the 'Guide to queueing at Wimbledon' to the atmosphere on Henman Hill. Loved every minute of it. Saw Venus practice, was gutted that I missed Nadal practice, and watched some boring veteran tennis. And then it was off to HH for the ladies final. Zoe joined me after her band was done playing. Glass of pimms, chatting to an older American couple next to us and loads of sunshine (and sunburn, I have to add...). Great match, great place to watch it. Got to see the village of Wimbledon too, as we went to Zoe's parents, who live there, afterwards for a barbie. What a fun filled day!!

Arrived

Well, I am truly in London now! Just my luck to get a cabbie from the airport to have no clue where I had to go (bloody massive apartment buildings there, let alone a Raddisson). Guy was as rude as the Amsterdam ones, no escaping them!!

My temp apartment has a great view over the City and Canary Wharf (which has the most amazing shopping center I must say). Italian dude was waiting for me and explained everything, and than I was by myself. First thing: explore the organic food kitty I was given. Leave it to the poms to inlcude 80 teabags for a two week stay....

Went to see an apartment (or 'property', as the English like to call it) in Canary Wharf yesterday. Fantastic place, two bedrooms, right by the water and it has a balcony. Area's a bit quiet though, so need to think about it. More apartment hunting today in Islington, Clerkenwell and Borough. Hope to have found something by the end of the day!

Not much other news. Seem to be settling in well. Met friend for lunch yesterday, had a call from Zoe who just moved back to London from the Dam and watched Nadal kick Murray's arse in a little park with a big screen and hundreds of suits in Can Wharf. Oh, and I bought elegant platforms. The Dutch girl slowly has to transform into a more elegant English woman. Not today tho, today's Birkenstocks and jeans day!

Because I still can

Hollandse nieuwe, patatje met, berenklauw and kibbeling. Four dutch 'dishes' in two days. All of a sudden I fancied dutch food. Won't touch the jenever though. Let's not overdo things.

Getting there

The movers were here yesterday, 3,5 hours, or 36 boxes and a bike later, they left. Task two: clear the living room, for the laminate man to come today. Mission accomplished. A glass of verdelho in my hand, laptop on my...right, lap, and the new floor to admire. Fake oak. Actually really like it. My bathroom is empty but for the stuff I now use, and my bedroom is empty but for the stuff I will bring. Main worries: the living room and spare bedroom. I estimate another 3 trips to the paperbin and 10 to the basement. Yuk. Fed up. Had Enough.

But this wasnt't going to be a whinge-blog (am not in pommyland yet after all!). This was to be a blog about my new home. Temp home. Originally, I thought I'd like to live in London's docklands, assuming they'd be similar to the Ams docklands. Everyone who knows both me and London told me not to. So I won't. But....to see for myself, my serviced apartment for the first two weeks of my stay happens to be in the docklands. On Isle of Dogs to be precise. In the Ontario Tower, to be even preciser. A big fat huge tall residential tower of 32 floors. The wee corner on the 11th is mine for a fortnight. The pics tell me I have a nice view through the floor-to-ceiling walls from my bed. Exiting!!

Boxes boxes boxes

Crates with books that need to get to the basement (by themselves, please!). Boxes, bags full of old papers ready for the paper bin, dust everywhere and loads, and loads of stuff for the movers to collect tomorrow. Five meters of books, an amount of shoes and flipflops Imelda Marcos wouldn't be ashamed of, a load of booze, boxes full of kitchenware and clothes clothes clothes. When I moved to Sydney with only a backpack I was fine, yet the idea of shipping 8 cubic metres of 'home' is great. If only all the hard work was done.....

Anticipation

Seeing my very preggers friend Lynne. Wimbledon finals on Murray Mountain with Zoe. Big fat Sunday newspapers wíth the extras. Brick Lane. Marks and sparks underwear. Gloating about football. Pimms. No traffic jams (as in....no car). Borough Market. E.A.T. salads and sarnies. Shopping. Weddings to come home for which makes them extra special. No cat hairs (just kidding V&C!). Gloating about football. Owning an Oyster Card (bye bye strippenkaarten). Cricket at Lords. ITV and Sky Sports. Loads of new discoveries. The parks and the views. The markets. And had I mentioned gloating about football??

16 sleeps

16 sleeps before I move to London. 16 days of football, farewell drinks, partying with Emily and, minor detail, moving and emptying my apartment. 16 days of happiness, sadness, and everything in between. A two year expat contract means I am likely to move back to the Dam in 2010 (just in time for the World Cup, maybe). But for now: I am awfully exited and happy about making a new start in this massive, cosmopolitic city.