Touristing

Hello, C. here.

Today, we played the roles of tourists. G's likely to start work on Wednesday next week, so we're going to knock over a few tourist destinations before then. Unfortunately, most of these are located in the Old Town, around the Royal Mile...which means walking downhill, only to have to climb up again. We were both pooped by 4pm, when we were heading back to the bus stop to head to Sainsbury's. Pathetic? Maybe, but then you aren't sleeping in our incredibly uncomfortable, small bed. Yeah.


Anyhow, we went to the Queen's Gallery, and happened to be there on the first day of a new exhibition of Italian Baroque paintings. They were really impressive, and you could stand literally 2mm from the paintings (or closer, if you want your eyeball to touch the canvas). The talent of the painters was remarkable and unmistakeable, and we were both really affected by how realistic they were. I was quite excited to be so close to a Caravaggio. Not sure why exactly, but yeah.


After the gallery, we popped over to Holyrood Palace, which was right next door. This is the Queen's official residence in Scotland, and only one of three such residences she has. Building started in the early 1100s, and Charles II and Mary Queen of Scots lived there, among other monarchs. We saw Mary's quarters, including the room in which she was dining when her husband burst in with some flunkeys, dragged the Italian ambassador away and stabbed him 56 times (and we also saw the spot on which his body was left including, I swear, the blood stains!). The highlight was undoubtedly a miniature portrait of Charles II, around which Mary had embroidered a decorative border in her own hair. I guess during the long winter nights you made your own entertainment.


I'll end this post with a photo of a menu item we could have chosen today for lunch, but did not.

Things

It’s G here. C pointed out that it’s our blog and not just her blog so I’m taking a turn. It’s been a bit warmer here today, maybe around 8, and quite calm unlike the last few days so seemed comparatively balmy. I still need to get an overcoat and gloves, but having some difficulty in forking out 170 pounds for a coat, which seems to be what I’ll be needing to pay for anything decent (i.e. it’ll keep me warm). Obviously, I’ve assimilated the stereotypical Scottish thriftiness quite quickly. No doubt the dropping temperatures will force the issue.

Things: I landed a job today with the TrainLine (hooray) although I’m a bit apprehensive now as I’ve just read C’s previous post about what she’ll do when I get a job. Hopefully, it won’t rage too out of control. The office is right in the middle of Edinburgh with views of the castle, which is nice, and is about 25 min walk to our place that we have applied for (fingers crossed we’ll get it).

The girl from the agency through whom I found the job asked me if I was having any trouble understanding Scottish accents and I replied, ‘Not really’, and added that we got a reasonable amount of British shows on TV in Australia so we were used to all sorts of British accents. She, and her colleague, looked at me as I if I had said I enjoyed wallpapering fish. I don’t really know why what I said could have produced that reaction, but the meaning of communication is the response you get so I guess there was a glitch somewhere. Further to this, when I got a call from her to let me know that I had the job, she said that she would shout me lunch. I light heartedly responded with, “Ooh, I hope it’s somewhere nice like McDonalds or Burger King”, to which the slightly shocked and earnest response was, “Oh no! It’ll be fine dining.” Maybe my delivery is off….
Speaking of off things, when we were doing the rounds of the op shops in Portobello looking for 2nd hand coats, C accidently stepped in something unmentionable. Let’s just say the dog sitting at the entrance to the florist we had just passed was looking guilty but somehow subtly triumphant. As a consequence, only I went into the last op shop on the way, C considerately not wanting to contaminate a heated and closed up room. No good on the clothes front, but I overheard an interesting snippet of conversation from the two ladies who worked there.
“Hae yea nor tried Guinness, then?”
“Aye, I hae tried it. Ah don’ laike the tairste but ut’s fool o’ vitamins soo ah drunk ut wharle ah wass preegnunt”
(Apologies for this poor attempt at a phonetic representation of an Edinburgian accent (Edinburgh-ite? Edinburgher? What do you call someone from Edinburgh, anyway?))

Speaking (writing) of accents, I caught a cab the other day after a job interview out in the sticks, and when I jumped in the car, the cabbie said something like “Weerdablochnaeglochennow?” (or similar). I sat thinking furiously for a few seconds trying to translate what he had just said into ‘Strine, after which, watching me blinking and staring, he felt prompted to helpfully add, “Gillblanegoonoddabumudlee?”. I made a cognitive leap and said, “Livingston North train station”, which seemed to satisfy him and that’s where we ended up so I’m guessing I leapt in the right direction. We ended up overcoming our communication problems sufficiently during the journey for him to learn where I was from and, like a lot of locals we have spoken to, express disbelief that we had chosen to leave an Australian summer to come to a Scottish winter. I don’t think that they realise what a sticky, debilitating and overpowering heat is a part of a Brisbane summer. Things are always greener.

Tomorrow we are planning on going to Holyrood castle and abbey ruins. I found out today that “rood” means cross, which has cleared things up greatly. I still think “Holyrood” sounds like some sort of sacred object, the absolute rudest possible, worshipped by a devoted bunch of really rude people.

That’s about all for the moment, however, I’ve just realised that I haven’t talked much about C in this entry so I think I should mention that she is, of course, as always, quite wonderful and the best companion I could have on this adventure.
Bye for now,

First priorities

G made the point yesterday that it's a stressful thing to move to a new country. Concurrently, you are moving house, finding a new place to live, working out which are the good areas of town, finding work, opening new bank accounts, registering for the equivalent of tax file numbers, navigating different protocols for various things, and generally just figuring out what on earth is going on.

Doing any one of these things is a handful; doing all of them at the same time is madness. It's probably good that we didn't think too long and hard about this before we left. Of course, we realised that we'd have to be doing all of these things, and we didn't assume that things would fall blithely into place without any hassles. However, I don't think that we should have thought too hard about all this otherwise the instinct to take the path of least resistance might have kicked in, and we might have stayed. It's only been a week, but we don't have any regrets so far (this might change once the cold weather kicks in).

The good news is that G has a third interview for a job today, and according to the HR rep this one is more-or-less a formality before he's offered the job. We can only hope! We put in an application for a place to rent yesterday, so having one of us employed would certainly smooth things over in that regard. I don't want to write too much about the place we applied for, because I don't want to jinx things....hopefully there will be more to come shortly.

So, on to the title of this post - our (or probably my) priorities. I am sick already of all the clothes that I brought. The suitcase looked big when it was empty, but it feels like I have about three outfits now, and I'm tired of all of them. Pleased as I am with my 3.25 pound op shop coat, I don't really want to build of wardrobe of second hand clothing. So, for me, a priority is getting more clothes! There are plenty of shops here, almost, it seems, more than back in Brisbane. And I love winter clothing, so it seems to be perfect, really. The minute that G hears about a successful job offer, I'm hitting the shops to buy up big!

Some interesting observations:

• Scottish people love their gambling. It seems that there are two or three betting agencies on each street, and there are many, many different ones to choose from (including, inevitably, one called "McBet"). Bingo halls are also popular, but one must be a member in order to play. There are also various small private casinos, which is bizarre for someone from a city with only one, giant casino.
• You can't move without coming across Australians, which is almost disappointing - weren't we supposed to be the only Australians in Edinburgh? We went to a tiny cafe in the outskirts of Edinburgh, and were served by a bloke with a broad Aussie accent. We also came across a Brisbanite in the local pub, who greeted us with "Team Brisbane!" when we went back there yesterday. As G observed, when you meet someone in Australia, the first question is usually "What do you do?" When you meet a fellow Aussie over here, you ask instead "Where are you from?"
• They slug renters a lot more here than in Australia. We had to pay a 175 pound application and credit check fee when we applied for this place, which is non-refundable regardless of whether you are successful or not. Plus, each property is charged a monthly Council Tax, for things like rubbish removal, road upkeep etc - essentially council rates. However, WE have to pay this fee, not the landlord, which is a bit rough. Ads for rental places do not include this in the monthly rent, so you have to ask what the council charge is - luckily our current landlords alerted us to this, or else we would have had no idea about this when the first bill arrived.

Anyhow, better go...

Much love

Hello again

Hi there, it's C here.

I had thought I was over my jetlag, but I collapsed in a heap at 8.00 last night, and then of course woke up really early this morning. So far, it's 9pm and I'm doing okay. G seems to be over his pretty well by now, so that's good for him.

Over the past few days, we've been trying to find somewhere to live. This has involved taking buses back and forth across the city, and luckily the bus network is pretty comprehensive. The bus company that we use has a cheap all-day ticket which we are glad to take advantage of, and it's pretty exciting to sit on the top level of the bus (though not so fun trying to climb down the stairs while the bus is moving).

It's been a bit tricky to work out where to live, as we don't know the city at all. We caught the bus out to the west area on Saturday and liked the look of it. An estate agent we talked to said that, yes, the west is the good area of town. Our current landlord said that it would be pretty clear when we entered a dodgy part of the city, and that's proven correct too so far. On Saturday afternoon we went to look at a house in a not-so good area, and the agent was kind enough to drive us to look at another house, and then dropped us in town. He also gave tips about areas to look at, including the advice to avoid the suburb of "Niddrie", which sounds dodgy anyway.

This agent also explained the reasons for the high level of road works on at the moment. Apparently last year the city council wanted to introduce a congestion tax like the one in London. They put this to the popular vote, and it was soundly trounced at the polls because most people weren't keen on paying 6 pounds each time they drove into the city. The council was none too pleased about this defeat, so they gave blanket approval to every application for road works they had received. As a consequence, there are 392 different construction sites on Edinburgh's road network, so I hope the council is happy with their success.

Anyhow, back to our house hunting: we saw two nice properties today, but one had a tiny kitchen, while the other was too expensive. We have our fingers crossed for another one tomorrow, but we shall see. We have another week here at our self-catering flat, though the lack of connecting door between the bedroom and the kitchen is wearing a bit thin. I don't think we will feel properly settled in Edinburgh until we find a place to rent and call our own (and we have Maxi with us).

In other news, G had a job interview today, and then has a second for the same job tomorrow at 1pm. I waited at Starbucks with coffee as it was rather cold outside. The heating must be broken at Starbucks, as I had to put my coat on. Today has probably been the coldest day so far, with bone-chilling wind and a sharp rain in the afternoon. It's going to take a bit to get used to the early nights, because it is dark at 5pm yet feels much later.

We found a public swimming pool (and Turkish baths) about two minutes walk from our place, so we had a swim on Sunday. It was a novel experience being in the 'fast' lane, though to be honest no one else was in it for half the time. Saturday afternoon was spent exploring the Royal Mile, which seems to consist mainly of ghost tours, Loch Ness Monster tours, and shops selling traditional Scottish fare such as kilts, bagpipes and tartan cigarette lighters. We scoured these stores for the tartan of most interest to us (you know the one...), but only located a family crest in one shop. At the top of the Royal Mile near the castle was a tartan mill museum, so we popped inside expecting more luck. There was none to be had - we asked a shop assistant whether they had any of this tartan and she said that it "wasn't very popular." They clearly don't appreciate quality. She brought up a picture of the tartan on a computer with a small blurb about the family history, and offered to print it out for five pounds (we declined). We assume that they would make up a kilt in the tartan if we ordered it, but if they charge five quid for a piece of paper I shudder to think of the price of a whole outfit.

G has yet to get a proper coat, but considering today's brutal weather it won't be long until that situation is rectified. I shall also get a proper coat (that is a bit more stylish than my current 3 pound coat, though it is a pretty warm jacket), and some winter boots.

Not much else going on, as we spend a lot of our time poring over maps of Edinburgh and the bus route to find the next rental property to view. Hopefully we'll have some good news to report soon.

Much love

The Journey: Pt 2

Hello again.



So, after being met by Megan at Heathrow, we caught the Heathrow Connect to Paddington Station. It was rather surreal to be on the train, which was above-ground, because it illuminated the fact that we were actually in a foreign country now. Spending 25 hours on a plane doesn't necessarily make you feel that you've actually gone anywhere, but travelling through the suburbs of London brought home the reality of the change that we've made to our lives. Catching a black London cab from Paddington to Megan and Brett's home made the experience even more exciting. Unfortunately, though not surprisingly - it was about 4.30 by the time we got in the cab - the traffic was pretty heavy, although we travelled past some landmarks, like 22b Baker Street...and I'm sure there were others too.



Anyway, it was a relief to make our way up to Megan and Brett's sixth-floor loft, which has a sloping ceiling and a view across to the financial district, including the Gherkin. A shower never feels better than one had after a long plane journey. I had to down three cups of coffee in about fifteen minutes (not an exaggeration!) to stay awake, while G had a cup of tea. To pass the time before we were due to meet Michelle at a nearby restaurant, Megan introduced us to some wonderful British TV, including the afore-mentioned "Golden Balls" and a Japanese obstacle course show, much like the stupid "Wipeout" that was on Australian television.



It was lovely to see Michelle again, and G & I were given a belated wedding present from the three of them - tickets to a West End show, overnight accommodation in a hotel, and breakfast the next morning, to be taken at a time of our choosing! We're looking forward to the experience.



The jetlag had the effect of making everything anyone said seem really hilarious, which probably just made me seem drunk. The dinner was great, although neither of us were that hungry, and the high cost of eating out in London became clear when the bill arrived. Luckily, the wait staff had failed to factor in the half-price deal that the restaurant had on that night, so it wasn't quite as expensive as it first appeared (but still expensive). Plus, we received free drinks because our meals were late, so all up it was a good dinner.



We were so glad to get to bed and slept immediately, but woke up around 4-ish. We both read for a while, then G went back to sleep while I finished my book. G woke up again around 7am, and we ate breakfast (vegemite on toast - like we never left!) with Brett when he got up. We left the flat at about 8.30, and Brett escorted us to Old Street tube station and made sure we got on the right train. It was only two stops to Kings Cross station, but struggling through the crowds as we made our way to the long-distance trains was not fun. Picking up our tickets was so easy, and because we'd booked on the internet (yay internet!) we were able to skip the long queue of people purchasing their tickets there and then. We had quite a thrill when we looked at the departures board and saw we were on The Flying Scotsman up to Edinburgh. The train was relatively empty (though we still had an encounter with a Mr Grumpy, who ruined the start of the journey), and we both had window seats across a table from each other.



The trip up to Edinburgh was just lovely, and I'd recommend this to anyone travelling between London and Edinburgh. We passed so many iconic British scenes, including canals with barges, white sheep with black feet and faces, actual scarecrows in fields, swans, typical English houses, and rolling green fields. It was just wonderful to see. The train stopped at a number of stations, including Peterborough, York, Newcastle (with the train crossing the Tyne on a spectacularly high bridge), and Darlington. At one point, about an hour before we arrived in Edinburgh, I looked to the right and saw the sea! That was unexpected, and such stunning scenery.



Arriving in Edinburgh, it was cold, but not as cold as we had expected. We caught a cab to our accommodation (we were never going to make the bus, as our landlady had suggested), and had a chat to the cabbie. He was very friendly, but essentially said we were idiots who hadn't thought through our plan to move overseas. So that was a bit of a downer. Our rooms, though, are quite good and our hosts very nice. We have a bedroom with ensuite and a kitchen, and unfortunately they decided last year to try to sell the house and so blocked off the door that was between the two. This means that we have to go out into the communal corridor to get from one room to the other and unlocking the doors, which is a bit of a pain, but nevermind.



We unpacked our suitcases and then went for a wander down the main street of Portabello. The beach at Portabello is a real beach, with actual sand instead of pebbles, but it's still hard to imagine wanting to take a dip in the waters. We bought ingredients from a convenience store (called Kost Konscious, clearly competing with Cost Cutters) for a pasta meal, and some Irn Bru, which is actually pronounced "Iron Bru". After a quick dinner, we went to bed quite early again.



Unfortunately, this meant that G woke up at around 3.30, and me an hour later. We got up at about 5-ish and watched tv, which was wall-to-wall coverage of Obama's victory. Stirring stuff.



Yesterday was spent exploring Princes Street to find a suit for G to wear at his job interviews today. It was starting to drizzle, too, and the rain felt like ice. (We're definitely getting warmer jackets, but will probably get them from a charity shop until we decide (and can afford) to get nicer ones.) G finally found a good suit, and had the trousers taken up. I bought a hat, which made such a difference, and also an umbrella. The highlight of the day, however, was definitely going into McDonald's to see if they had Irn Bru on tap, and they do!



We went back home, after getting some groceries from Morrisons, and then had a nap. We were woken by the sound of intermittent explosions, and remembered that it was Guy Fawkes day! Hurrying outside (it was cold!), we tried to follow the traces of fireworks in the sky, but didn't seem to be getting any closer to them. We ended up heading to the beach, and sure enough, there were a number of bonfires dotted along the shore. People were setting of fireworks, which seemed quite dangerous, and we saw at least one firework backfire. It was pretty special, seeing people celebrating Bonfire Night, and we tried to take photos and video the events.

Anyhow, better go as this is a long post. More tomorrow!

Much love

The Journey: Pt 1

C here.

I'm writing this from our self-catered flat in Edinburgh, watching a game show called "Golden Balls". Yes, it is as intriguing as its title suggests. We arrived here about three hours ago, and drinking hot, caffeinated drinks to fight against the jet-lagged.

The excitement of our overseas odyssey came before we'd even left Brisbane. I went through the security check ahead of G, and after walking through the x-ray thingamy, two security guards whisked me away to a booth for a random sample check and body search. Unfortunately, G didn't see this happen as his backpack had to go through the x-ray machine twice for some reason, and therefore assumed I'd gone through the passport check without him. My sample check (all clear for drugs and explosive residue) and body search (more intimate than your usual pat down) took about five minutes, and when I emerged he was already at the desk having his passport examined. The problem was that G had my passport while I had both our boarding passes, so neither of us could get through customs without the other. I had to skip the queue, which probably annoyed everyone else, but who cares?

The flight from Australia was long, but okay. It left Brisbane at 11.45pm, which I'd hoped would help encourage the sleep, but no luck. G managed to snooze for a while, and I watched several movies. At Singapore, we had a three hour break, and luckily G had enough Singaporean coins left over from his last trip to Germany to buy two bottles of water. Our seats for the flight to Heathrow, which were exactly the same as those on the first leg, were the aisle and middle seat of a three-seater by the window. After we got settled, the window seat in our row continued to remain unoccupied and we became rather excited with the prospect of having three seats to ourselves. Then we noticed that about eight whole rows in our section were empty, and kept our fingers crossed that there wasn't a last-minute influx of passengers. When the plane began reversing away from the gate, we gave a silent cheer, as the idea of comfortable sleep on the plane became a reality. After the first meal was served, I popped a sleeping pill. G wasn't feeling tired, so he moved to the empty row behind ours, while I lay down across our three seats and managed, for the first time ever, to sleep on a plane. Hooray! Later on, G found an empty three-seater on the other side of the plane and slept too.

For some reason, our flight was half an hour early landing at Heathrow, and we were vaguely concerned that we might miss Megan. However, we needn't have worried because border control was soooo busy. I went through the UK passport lane, whereas G had to go through the slower "all other countries" queue, which took about fifteen minutes longer. After he got cleared to enter the country, the passport man told him he could have come through with me, as my spouse. That's good to know for future reference! We must have been some of the last people through, as there were only about ten pieces of luggage left on the carousel, and no one else waiting. I was paranoid that someone had nicked our suitcases because we were late, but thankfully they were still there. We loaded up our trolley, walked through the exit gates, and spotted Megan waiting for us. Yay!

Anyway, that's the first part of the trip from Brisbane to Edinburgh, more to follow...

Much love

Auf Wiedersehen!

So. This is it.

We're leaving for the airpor in one hour. We have managed to pack our lives, for the next two years, into two suitcases, a backpack and a carry-on bag. And a ball of white fluff, who is currently pulling his cousin around by the ear, oblivious to the exciting journey he'll be taking in a few weeks.

Many people have asked me over the past week if I'd packed yet. I know some people like to take their time packing, but both of us prefer to leave it to the day and then cram everything into the suitcase at once. When you're a hoarder like me, who keeps everything on the off-chance they might come in handy one day, the more time left for packing provides more opportunities to convince yourself that, yes, you will need that decorative pen from Employee Services at your old job. And the pair of pink socks with flowers. And the brown burberry scarf, despite having packed five scarves already. Therefore, leaving everything to the last minute helps to avoid arriving at your destination unable to find a pair of clean undies, yet having that brown jumper that you haven't worn in years but brought just in case this trip provokes the desire to wear it.

We dropped Max off at H's, his home for the next few weeks. It was a lump-in-the-throat moment, yet the emotional parting that I'd envisioned was destroyed by Max's discovery of some rawhide. He gave a brief "Yeah, bye" over his shoulder as we left, and pranced off into the shadows. Oh well, can't have it all.

See you on the other side of the planet.

Much love