Running Away from Home

You always hear about people picking up and disappearing in the midst of trying times. I definitely have to be the only person I know who runs away from home with a carefully planned out grant application, and 20 boxes of stuff. Well, 9 boxes so far. Here’s hoping the Royal Mail turns up with the other 11.


I’ve been in London for a week now, and I’m starting to settle in – sort of. If I can get past dropping to the floor and crying over my TV (BT Vision – WTF is that? total scam), wandering from cellphone store to cellphone store, looking for someone willing to take my money (seriously, why is it always the phones?), and walking 15 minutes each way just to buy some groceries (most of which are unrecognizable), I might actually get used to the new digs.

In truth, I think the problem is that I didn’t anticipate any problems. Well, that’s not totally true. I knew there would be an adjustment, but I didn’t realize the things that would get to me, the first being actually living in a city – and without a car. In NY, Boston, DC and Monterrey, I basically lived in the ‘burbs. And, I always had a car. The one exception is when I was in Oxford – no car, a lot of walking. But, of course, I was 15 years younger then! And, I didn’t have to be quite so self sufficient. I hate that I have to make so many trips to the supermarket just to stock up on my necessary items because all I have is the one shopping cart (which is a bitch to lug up the two flights of stairs). For someone with a bad back and bad knees, this seems to have not been well thought-out.

I am also dying to have a real and true conversation that’s not with the postman, the clerk at (insert store name here), or the staff of a New Dehli call center. That should improve a bit once I start work next week – for which I remain in a state of terror that I will be unable to teach anything to anyone. At least then I’ll be talking all day, so I should get sick of myself.

Missing the doggies terribly, and hoping all goes well with their flight Friday, and their arrival on Saturday. At least when they come, I’ll have someone to talk to! Of course, if they start talking back, I’m in real trouble. I’m a little worried about them here in the apartment. Not in a big way, but there’s a lot of noise outside in the afternoons and evenings – people milling about. Its’ pretty loud, and they’ll bark. And that is going to be a problem. Brooke’s going to have to live in that anti-bark collar, and Cali’ll be dodging the jingly bark buster thing constantly. Hmm, maybe they’ll surprise me (not likely – Brooke remains dog most likely to cause an international incident).

Here’s a really weird thing. I have found in my first week that I am speaking to everyone like I’m in a library – very soft spoken. I noticed myself doing it, and couldn’t figure out why. Then I hit on it – I’m trying to hide my accent, like I don’t want people to know I’m American. It’s a completely irrational thing, but I feel like they’ll immediately peg me as a tourist, not as someone who lives here (although, after a week, I’m hardly a local). The funny thing is, in Mexico, I spoke Spanish with a good Spanish accent, and blended in fairly well. Not that I wasn’t known to be an American (you couldn’t work at the consulate and not be known by the locals), but I carried on well with the locals, in part because once I gained in confidence, I spoke Spanish more or less like a native. I was even complemented on my Spanish by people at the visa window. Yet, here, I’m speaking my native language (that said, there are A LOT of words that are different), and I would never put on an English accent (even though I do a pretty good one). And, there’s plenty of American ex-pats here. So, I don’t really know what my hang-up is. Now that I’m aware of it, I’m making a conscious effort to talk like a normal person, and not someone who’s afraid of spooking a sleeping cat (or dog).

In a surreal twist, I’m engaging right now in my latest addiction – British panel shows (I REALLY need my satellite tv!). Right this moment, on “QI,” the panelists (including Emma Thompson) are discussing English actors in Hollywood, and the fact that, if you have an English accent, you automatically become a villain. One of the panelists is doing a really spot-on Alan Rickman impression (love him, by the way!). The final quote, “If you’re an English actor, there’s a good living to be made being beaten up by American action stars.” Sums up us Yanks pretty well, actually.

Well, I think “Mock the Week” might be coming up next, so I’d better run off and get ready (it would help, though, if they showed episodes that are a little more recent. Last night they discussed the Bush shoe-throwing incident of 2007! Still funny, but really . . .). Maybe tomorrow I’ll go to the theatre, before I find myself in the midst of a 12-hour panel-show marathon, unable to pry myself off the sofa!

9 boxes down, 11 to go!