I don't like going to London much.
I don't like going to London, because I don't feel comfortable in big cities with all their crowds in haste.
But mostly I don't like going to London because I like it too much. Like Paris. Like Berlin.
I spend the day doing the touristy stuff, pushing my way through crowds, being pushed myself, clinging on to my handbag and to Paul's hand so that this whole unspeakable energy and movement would not suck me in and make me disappear.
But then we sit somewhere for a drink and I start watching people walking past and my mind starts imagining the lifes they have, what it would be like to be their friend or colleague or neighbour, and I spot a street with particularly nice (interesting, unusual, ugly) houses (trees, shades, lamp posts, you name it) and I start wondering what it would be like if that street was mine, if I lived there/walked past it every day, if the pub/cafe I'm sitting in was my pub/cafe, what friends I would have if I was hanging out here, what kind of job I'd be doing, and a whole new unknown life starts unravelling itself in my mind.
The itch.
Later on I get back home, I wash off all the metallic dust of the underground, and I feel relieved that all that buzzing and chaos are far away from me and I am safe in my little house. The itch subsides a little.
But then I go to bed and I fall asleep listening to the cars driving past my window and I wonder where they are going to, are they going to one of those unknown lives I lurked into earlier on that day? Or to yet a different one, in yet a different place?
What is it like? What would it be like to live there?
And it saddens me that I will never find out...
Showing posts with label travel. Show all posts
Showing posts with label travel. Show all posts
Thursday, 26 August 2010
Monday, 20 April 2009
Homeless
Last time we went to Aix, in late October, just like any time I had gone back after my move to the UK, it felt like going home and being there was both great and really difficult, cause, of course, I didn’t have a home there anymore.
This time the homey feeling was gone and it was just this place that used to be home and where people-who-know-me are. At least some of them, cause James is gone and Jannick is as good as gone in a way, besides, lets not kid ourselves, it is not the same as it was when I was actually there.
So Birmingham, but how much of a home is it really? I do have some friends, but none of them can be qualified as people-who-know-me just yet. I live in a house share, which is fun, but is by definition as un-homey as it gets, by definition temporary, no potential to settle down what so ever. And my local pub is in… Milton Keynes.
So Milton Keynes then? Well, I don’t even live there. The plan is for me to move there, but as long as I haven’t found a job, it isn’t so much a plan as a wish.
And so the sad truth is that I’m living on the boxes with no end to it in sight for now and, quite frankly, I’m growing more and more tired of it.
This time the homey feeling was gone and it was just this place that used to be home and where people-who-know-me are. At least some of them, cause James is gone and Jannick is as good as gone in a way, besides, lets not kid ourselves, it is not the same as it was when I was actually there.
So Birmingham, but how much of a home is it really? I do have some friends, but none of them can be qualified as people-who-know-me just yet. I live in a house share, which is fun, but is by definition as un-homey as it gets, by definition temporary, no potential to settle down what so ever. And my local pub is in… Milton Keynes.
So Milton Keynes then? Well, I don’t even live there. The plan is for me to move there, but as long as I haven’t found a job, it isn’t so much a plan as a wish.
And so the sad truth is that I’m living on the boxes with no end to it in sight for now and, quite frankly, I’m growing more and more tired of it.
Tuesday, 14 April 2009
Flying Ryanair
Marseille Airport, 20:40 – so far so good, the luggage check-in started on time. I’m slightly worried that my suitcase is over 15 kg, in which case I would have to pay £8 or something per each excess kg on top of the £12 that I have already paid so they would let me take a suitcase at all. Luckily it isn't.
22:00 – Waiting Lounge. The screen announces that our flight is now boarding through gate F. The crowds rush forward and so do we (let’s note the abnormality of the situation: for once we’re actually boarding on time, my hitherto experiences show an average delay of at least 20 minutes).
22:15 – All passengers have been neatly crammed into three waiting lines, one Priority Line (for those who were silly enough to spend extra money on priority boarding, which in reality doesn’t give them anything at all or almost), two other lines, we’re waiting. The plane is noticeably not there (although it should have landed at 22:10).
22:25 – The plane is still not there. Everyone’s starting to get annoyed obviously having missed the point of boarding in the absence of a plane.
22.40 – Due take off time, the plane is still not there.
22:50 – The plane is there. We watch people get off it and then we are ushered through the doors and onto the plane. On the plane, the main stewardess, or whatever you call them nowadays, encourages the passengers to ‘move down the aisle and promptly take seats in order to allow for a quick take off’. That would have been ok if the frequency and the tone of these messages did not imply that it would be our fault if we landed late.
23:15 – The plane starts moving, the security briefing begins just to be almost immediately interrupted by the said stewardess in order to tell people off for not paying attention while it is for their safety. I turn my head and I don’t see anyone not paying attention. What I see is a steward rushing down the aisle to take his spot.
23:25 – We are finally airborne. I check that there is a life jacket under my seat and that neither the jacket nor the oxygen mask panel have been equipped with a coin slot. I mean, they were planning to fit those on the loos, so you never know right?
Other travel entertainment consisted in the same stewardess telling several passengers off for trying to use the toilet while the seat-belt sign was on. She had indeed informed us each time that the toilets would not be available, the intercom however was regulated at a volume where no one could have possibly heard it. I mean, I thought being nice was part of her job description… but then again, how long can you keep being nice if all you do all day is deal with frustrated passengers?
22:00 – Waiting Lounge. The screen announces that our flight is now boarding through gate F. The crowds rush forward and so do we (let’s note the abnormality of the situation: for once we’re actually boarding on time, my hitherto experiences show an average delay of at least 20 minutes).
22:15 – All passengers have been neatly crammed into three waiting lines, one Priority Line (for those who were silly enough to spend extra money on priority boarding, which in reality doesn’t give them anything at all or almost), two other lines, we’re waiting. The plane is noticeably not there (although it should have landed at 22:10).
22:25 – The plane is still not there. Everyone’s starting to get annoyed obviously having missed the point of boarding in the absence of a plane.
22.40 – Due take off time, the plane is still not there.
22:50 – The plane is there. We watch people get off it and then we are ushered through the doors and onto the plane. On the plane, the main stewardess, or whatever you call them nowadays, encourages the passengers to ‘move down the aisle and promptly take seats in order to allow for a quick take off’. That would have been ok if the frequency and the tone of these messages did not imply that it would be our fault if we landed late.
23:15 – The plane starts moving, the security briefing begins just to be almost immediately interrupted by the said stewardess in order to tell people off for not paying attention while it is for their safety. I turn my head and I don’t see anyone not paying attention. What I see is a steward rushing down the aisle to take his spot.
23:25 – We are finally airborne. I check that there is a life jacket under my seat and that neither the jacket nor the oxygen mask panel have been equipped with a coin slot. I mean, they were planning to fit those on the loos, so you never know right?
Other travel entertainment consisted in the same stewardess telling several passengers off for trying to use the toilet while the seat-belt sign was on. She had indeed informed us each time that the toilets would not be available, the intercom however was regulated at a volume where no one could have possibly heard it. I mean, I thought being nice was part of her job description… but then again, how long can you keep being nice if all you do all day is deal with frustrated passengers?
Saturday, 1 November 2008
English weather in the South of France
I’m back to Brum after a week of what was supposed to be sunshine, wine and cheese, and well, sunshine didn’t happen. Apparently the first weekend was glorious, but I missed it completely as I spent it dying in bed, cause as usual in the beginning of a holiday my body said ‘No more work? Letting go!’ and put me through all colds, migraines and stomach troubles it had bravely resisted through school time. Uh, oh.
I was going to put updates up regularly, but I found myself cut from the internet as my adoptive grandma’s computer died on her the day before our arrival. And now I’m at a loss, cause recounting everything would take pages and pages and so I should probably try to sum it up somehow, which is not easy at all.
It was blissful. In spite of the weather. Just seeing all those faces after having missed them so much!
Two huge emotional moments, first when spotting Sainte Victoire from the plane, then one evening at the dinner table, when I just wanted my life there back, but of course that is not possible and, of course, if I had not moved away, then… etc.
My still growing hair was a big hit, apparently it looks like a lion’s mane and I hide rainbows in it (as one can see on little Guillaume’s portrait of me, which he unfortunately refused to part with, cause wanted to remember me by).
Everyone was excited about meeting Paul, I was excited about everybody meeting Paul, Papi loved Paul absolutely which, if you know Papi, you know is not to be taken for granted.
And well, it was all smiling, hugging, making merry, talking, eating and drinking (uh, oh, body needs tea-totalling for a while now!).
All to be done all over again at Easter (cause it got somehow decided that we would be back at Easter and well, we did not protest too much) but hopefully in a better weather and in less of a hurry!
I was going to put updates up regularly, but I found myself cut from the internet as my adoptive grandma’s computer died on her the day before our arrival. And now I’m at a loss, cause recounting everything would take pages and pages and so I should probably try to sum it up somehow, which is not easy at all.
It was blissful. In spite of the weather. Just seeing all those faces after having missed them so much!
Two huge emotional moments, first when spotting Sainte Victoire from the plane, then one evening at the dinner table, when I just wanted my life there back, but of course that is not possible and, of course, if I had not moved away, then… etc.
My still growing hair was a big hit, apparently it looks like a lion’s mane and I hide rainbows in it (as one can see on little Guillaume’s portrait of me, which he unfortunately refused to part with, cause wanted to remember me by).
Everyone was excited about meeting Paul, I was excited about everybody meeting Paul, Papi loved Paul absolutely which, if you know Papi, you know is not to be taken for granted.
And well, it was all smiling, hugging, making merry, talking, eating and drinking (uh, oh, body needs tea-totalling for a while now!).
All to be done all over again at Easter (cause it got somehow decided that we would be back at Easter and well, we did not protest too much) but hopefully in a better weather and in less of a hurry!
Thursday, 23 October 2008
Obscenities
I’m hot.
A simple solution to that problem would of course be to turn the heating down but that can not be done as heaps of clothes I just washed are drying and need to be dry a.s.a.p. cause I’m packing! One more day of cheeky brats and then, after a brief stop in MK, it’s all wine, cheese and sunshine – although some of you did not fail to point out that it’s actually raining out there right now. Well, if I’m to trust Metcheck, I shall bring you sunshine!
In the meantime, here’s a funny one for you:
I’ve spent last few days at a school specialising in languages, although I mostly taught English, but that is not the point. As many other schools with the same specialism, all signs inside this one were not only in English but also in other languages spoken/taught in the school. One of the languages this school included in its signs is Polish – not that they teach Polish or that I’d have encountered any Polish kids, but that, once again, is not the point. The point is that this morning, as I was walking through the building, I noticed the signs on the languages classrooms and stopped dead before starting to giggle uncontrollably: the sign said ‘languages’ ‘langues’ ‘Sprachen’ ‘lenguas’ and the same thing again and again in other languages unknown to me, but next to all that I read ‘grubiaństwa’, which is Polish all right, but means… ‘obscenities’.
I can’t help but wonder if it is a result of a failed attempt on translation by someone who didn’t actually speak Polish or if someone played a practical joke on the school.
I’m also trying to decide whether I should tell someone in the school or leave it for other random Poles to enjoy…
A simple solution to that problem would of course be to turn the heating down but that can not be done as heaps of clothes I just washed are drying and need to be dry a.s.a.p. cause I’m packing! One more day of cheeky brats and then, after a brief stop in MK, it’s all wine, cheese and sunshine – although some of you did not fail to point out that it’s actually raining out there right now. Well, if I’m to trust Metcheck, I shall bring you sunshine!
In the meantime, here’s a funny one for you:
I’ve spent last few days at a school specialising in languages, although I mostly taught English, but that is not the point. As many other schools with the same specialism, all signs inside this one were not only in English but also in other languages spoken/taught in the school. One of the languages this school included in its signs is Polish – not that they teach Polish or that I’d have encountered any Polish kids, but that, once again, is not the point. The point is that this morning, as I was walking through the building, I noticed the signs on the languages classrooms and stopped dead before starting to giggle uncontrollably: the sign said ‘languages’ ‘langues’ ‘Sprachen’ ‘lenguas’ and the same thing again and again in other languages unknown to me, but next to all that I read ‘grubiaństwa’, which is Polish all right, but means… ‘obscenities’.
I can’t help but wonder if it is a result of a failed attempt on translation by someone who didn’t actually speak Polish or if someone played a practical joke on the school.
I’m also trying to decide whether I should tell someone in the school or leave it for other random Poles to enjoy…
Sunday, 6 April 2008
Back in Brum
It was snowing as I woke up in London this morning and it made me feel peaceful. I must be a winter person, in spite of being prone to light-deficiency induced depression.
The winter scenery didn’t last though, and as I arrived to Brum, after almost three hours of blissful staring out of the window of a National Express coach while listening to the music, there was no snow left outside. But it is snowing again now. So there’s hope for another soothing winter view before the craziness and stress and hectic life start all over again tomorrow.
The winter scenery didn’t last though, and as I arrived to Brum, after almost three hours of blissful staring out of the window of a National Express coach while listening to the music, there was no snow left outside. But it is snowing again now. So there’s hope for another soothing winter view before the craziness and stress and hectic life start all over again tomorrow.
Friday, 28 March 2008
Aix en vacances
Travelling to places you used to belong to is a messy business. On one hand, you’re thrilled to see all the people and places you have been missing so much, but on the other hand you’re disheartened by the realisation that they are moving on without you, and, even worse, regardless of you.
I found my map of Aix unchanged and changed in the same time. I had a coffee on Cours Mirabeau in Belle Epoque with their rude waiters. I went to Papeterie Michel and felt the same urge to buy most of their stocks. I drove past my old boulangerie and the park where I used to jog. And I missed them not being mine anymore.
But what really got me was talking to my adoptive grandparents over home made dinner and explaining how I was subscribed to Iceland and the local Chinese, which made me think about cooking in my little kitchen corner at Roc Fleuri. It made me really want my life back.
I still think that leaving was the right thing to do. I have a constant mantra in my head, listing reasons why. But I had a great life here. Which makes me think, that what I really need to do, is get a proper life back in Brum.
But for now, I’ll put on my red shoes and dance the blues.
I found my map of Aix unchanged and changed in the same time. I had a coffee on Cours Mirabeau in Belle Epoque with their rude waiters. I went to Papeterie Michel and felt the same urge to buy most of their stocks. I drove past my old boulangerie and the park where I used to jog. And I missed them not being mine anymore.
But what really got me was talking to my adoptive grandparents over home made dinner and explaining how I was subscribed to Iceland and the local Chinese, which made me think about cooking in my little kitchen corner at Roc Fleuri. It made me really want my life back.
I still think that leaving was the right thing to do. I have a constant mantra in my head, listing reasons why. But I had a great life here. Which makes me think, that what I really need to do, is get a proper life back in Brum.
But for now, I’ll put on my red shoes and dance the blues.
Monday, 18 February 2008
Vikings
We went to York for the Vikings. Well no, we went to York cause neither Susanne nor I had been before. But then we found out about the Viking festival. So we wanted Vikings. At least I wanted Vikings. A lot. And there were Vikings all right. The first thing we walked into were hoards of Vikings training for battle. The problem was that, as we have later discovered, a big part of them were… Polish. The taxi driver who took us back to the hostel on Saturday night told us that each year there were loads of Norwegians coming for the festival, towing their long boats and all. So, in spite of the fact that on Saturday the ‘Vikings afloat’ were nowhere to be seen, on Sunday we’ve set out to find them anyway. Cause, of course, I wanted Norwegians. Unfortunately, the ‘Vikings afloat’ were still missing in action and the warriors swarming all around York were still, well, mostly Polish. That to say that when we went to see the Jorvik reconstruction I was sort of surprised that the sound effects were voices in Old Norse and not in, well, Polish.
I bought my Thor's hammer from a Swedish merchant, so at least there's an ounce of hope that it is more or less authentic and not, well, Polish.
I bought my Thor's hammer from a Swedish merchant, so at least there's an ounce of hope that it is more or less authentic and not, well, Polish.
Sunday, 3 February 2008
Everyone should have a Cate
I love train stations. Train stations are where everyone is going somewhere (which you can’t really always say about life). Everything has a sense of purpose, and there’s always something or someone waiting for everyone at the end of the journey: home, adventure, experience, something. Train stations are happy places. Life really happens there.
One thing that amused me while I was waiting for the train that was going to take me to Oxford, was the announcements. “I’m (extremely) sorry for the (severe) delay to your journey.” said the speaker and to my expat year it sounded as if the person making the announcement felt personally responsible for the problem.
I love going places, even if it often makes me way too thoughtful for my own good. You get to see bits of life that you would have wanted or could have had. Oxford is an academic city, knowledge and study seep from each stone and each angle. And one of Cate’s friends made me talk about my thesis, which sort of made me miss all that…
But most of all, I love Cate. Cate is someone that makes you think, review your opinions and form new opinions about things you never felt you needed to have an opinion on before. Cate is also full of random facts (did you know that banana was actually a berry?) and quick advice that always makes sense. So I’m back from Oxford untangled and back on track. My reason is back where it belongs and no longer absent without further notice. Everyone should have a Cate. And next time I go shopping I will buy chicken.
One thing that amused me while I was waiting for the train that was going to take me to Oxford, was the announcements. “I’m (extremely) sorry for the (severe) delay to your journey.” said the speaker and to my expat year it sounded as if the person making the announcement felt personally responsible for the problem.
I love going places, even if it often makes me way too thoughtful for my own good. You get to see bits of life that you would have wanted or could have had. Oxford is an academic city, knowledge and study seep from each stone and each angle. And one of Cate’s friends made me talk about my thesis, which sort of made me miss all that…
But most of all, I love Cate. Cate is someone that makes you think, review your opinions and form new opinions about things you never felt you needed to have an opinion on before. Cate is also full of random facts (did you know that banana was actually a berry?) and quick advice that always makes sense. So I’m back from Oxford untangled and back on track. My reason is back where it belongs and no longer absent without further notice. Everyone should have a Cate. And next time I go shopping I will buy chicken.
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