So it begins

New job, new home, new people

Published Date : July 26, 2003

Tunnel beneath the Thames

On Saturday I slept until about 10:30 then I headed out and about.  I started with a walking tour of Greenwich.  I walked through the tunnel under the Thames, which was rather cold I might add, and spent about an hour on the North side of the river.

I was only planning on being there for about 10 minutes, but an interesting old guy struck up a conversation with me.  He was Maltese-American, but born in England.  He basically told me his life story, but he’s done some interesting things.  He told me how to earn millions in shark fishing; about how he was in Vietnam as a scientist during the war and was shot by an American soldier (even showed me the scar). And apparently he’s built a flying car, but it’s too expensive to be sold commercially so it’s just sitting in his garage collecting dust.  He was there waiting to see his wife (or ex-wife, couldn’t quite be sure) who was a river boat captain.  Apparently she was supposed to be spreading somebody’s ashes just off Greenwich pier and he came by to see it.  I’m not entirely convinced about the guy’s sanity, but it was an interesting conversation.

Watching the world sail by

While we were chatting, I watched 3 eight-man rowing teams racing a city tour boat.  One of the teams actually beat the boat!  Leaving my new pal, I headed back to the south side of the river.  There I watched a WW2 artillery demonstration at the Maritime Museum.  Then it was past the Old Naval College and a nice stroll through Greenwich Park before catching a train into the city centre.   I was planning on watching a French street performance in Trafalgar Square, but it started over 2 hours late, so I checked my e-mail and wandered instead.

Monday I had my last job interview.  Tuesday I found out that I got the job.  Woohoo!

Wednesday was spent looking for new digs closer to work, and starting the odyssey that is opening a bank account in London.  I checked out a few other hostels in Bayswater and Kensington, and settled on one in Earls Court.  Olave House is only £60/week and it’s about a 25-minute walk from work. Excellent.
The banks are being even less co-operative than I remembered.  If it’s possible, they’ve made it even more difficult to open a bank account than the last time I was here.  I tried Lloyd’s TSB and NatWest today – both were less than helpful.  Once I get my work contract sorted it should make things a bit easier.  I think I’ll hit up the building societies too; sometimes they’re easier to open accounts with.

Thursday was my first day on the job.  My co-workers are all quite nice and surprisingly young.  I think the average age is about 28 or 29.  Also a very multi-cultural group: there’s a South African, an Ethiopian, a Greek, a Mexican, a couple of Scots, and the rest (about a half dozen) are English.  Quite an interesting mix.  They don’t seem to expect very much from me, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing.  They seem to be sticking to the British motto of employment: “Why hire one person to do a job when you can hire five?”  Makes for a stress-free if slightly boring day.

Back in Greenwich, I went for a drink after work in the hostel’s pub and was hit on by a late-thirty-something Londoner.  What is it with the older men?  He even admitted that he thought I was younger than I am – then why the hell are you even looking at me in the first place?!  Pervert!

Saturday was moving day.  When I tried to checkout of St Christopher’s there was nobody to be found anywhere.  I checked the bar as well, but only the cleaning staff were there – nobody who could run the desk at the hostel.  I ended up just leaving my key on the desk with a note.  Not my problem if they lose it.

When I arrived at Olave House around 11am, my roomies were all still sound asleep.  I tried to unpack a bit, but I have a top bunk (it’s only a 4-bed dorm…how sweet is that?) and the room was pitch black, so I decided to go out for a bit and come back later. After wandering around town for a while, and getting my bearings, I headed back to the hostel to find that my roomies were all still sound asleep at 2:30 in the afternoon.  Oi.

Dear Banks: I'm not a terrorist

Published Date : July 31, 2003

The new hostel is working out great. I love the atmosphere; everybody is really friendly.  Added bonus is that there are no creepy Nigerians stalking me!  It turns out my roomies, Emma and Jess from Australia, were recovering from a big night out when I arrived, which explains the sleeping at 2:30pm.  Both are really nice.

The day after I moved in was pretty quiet but the night was a blast.  A big group of us were sitting in the garden out back of the hostel drinking and chatting.  I polished off the entire bottle of Tia Lusso that my Aussie roomies at Greenwich left me, and got to know a lot of the people staying at the hostel.  Good fun.

I’m starting to settle in at work now and get into the swing of things.  I think it’s going to end up being not a bad job.  No stress at all – just the way I like it.  Hopefully I manage to save some money while I’m here.  I should do.  As much as I drink, I don’t think that even I could spend £300/week on it!

I’ve got a routine going already.  Work during the day, go out for drinks at night.  The weather is miserable today so everybody is staying in.  There are a whole lot of South Africans staying here – I forgot how many there are in London.  But that’s not a bad thing; they’re my latest fetish ��

Other than work and too much socializing, life is all about the bank account right now.  I’m still having problems.  They want proof of address and I don’t have it, so it could take a while.  They want you to prove that you live in the UK and are not just laundering money, which is fair enough.  But for proof of address they want a utility bill, a British driver’s license, a medical card, or a credit card statement: all things that a broke backpacker isn’t going to have.  Apparently a work contract (which is a legally binding document I might add), a pay slip, and a letter from the hostel just aren’t good enough.  On top of that they also want a copy of a bank statement from home, but it has to be the actual statement, not a downloaded copy from the bank’s website.  Yeah, this could take a while.

Overall, I’m really enjoying myself.  I’ve discovered that the key to enjoying London is to have money.  The last few times I’ve been here I’ve been looking for work or utterly broke.  It’s much more enjoyable when you don’t have to worry about basic things like food and shelter.