Moving Day

Leaving's hard. Fortunately, there's drink. Two of my oldest friends, Mike and John, came down from the Poconos on the last day of packing and took me to lunch, which is a euphemism for having a few beers in the sunshine. Not a bad way to spend the afternoon, and I almost forgot that I had a house full of men piling our stuff in the driveway.

I love getting together with these guys because, as any of you who've had friends in the 25year + range will appreciate, they know all your old stories. High school, college, early career. The trouble with these stories is that they are at beast meaningless and at worst, downright boring to anyone who wasn't there. So whenever we get together by ourselves, we have license to reminisce and laugh manically at things that would make our wives just roll their eyes and wander off to check on the kids.

John was the first of my friends to have children. You'd think he'd have warned us, but nooooo. All he did was talk about how great it is. After about the third month of not sleeping after Caroline was born, I called him up and said "what the hell?!?" "Oh, yeah," he said, "I left that part out." Thanks, John.

All is forgiven now, though, as the children finally do sleep through the night. Turns out John was the smartest among us, having them early and all. Now, as I'm trying to drag my mid-thirties body around after my three and five year olds, he's kicking back on the couch in the basement with a beer while his girls hang with their friends upstairs. It's clearly a young man's game, this. Thanks for the warning, John.

Mike, on the other hand, waited even longer to have kids. To be honest, I really never thought he'd settle down. I figured his life would just always be one long party. Kudos to his wife Ali for attempting and accomplishing the seemingly impossible. I clearly remember how shocked I was when he called me and said they were having a baby. It's so odd to see him in daddy mode now, because I still think of him as the same kid I met in 7th grade.

Everything changes, I guess.

Caroline

Caroline's settling in to the routine of going to school. I took her the other day, so I can say that it's a LOT different from school back home. For one thing, there's a lot of commotion in the morning - all the classes line up in the schoolyard. The kids have to put their lunchboxes in a certain place, then they line up to go into the classroom and have to put their bookbags, water bottles and gym (yes, GYM) bags in designated spots. Caroline's in the 'plum' group, so her stuff goes in the bins with the plums. Which sounds easy, except that the plums on the gym bag box look more like, well, I really don't know what. Burgundy colored eggs, I guess. Speaking of eggs, I keep forgetting to mention that they don't refrigerate eggs here. Really. Just one of the many small differences that seem to leap out at you when you live in a place.

Caroline's still a little shy at school, but she's made a bunch of friends. The other day she was quite pleased with herself when she told me that three girls were fighting over who would get to play with her. She's also started changing her pronunciation of a few things (tonight she said 'fahn' and 'dahnce') and using Briticisms like loo and bum. I'm sure she'll have an English accent by the end of the year. She has Michael saying loo and bum, too, which is kind of funny.

She and Michael have also started putting on shows for us, as shown here. This does NOT mean that they've stopped bickering over absolutely everything, just that they do occasionally play together, and it's actually pretty funny when they do. Michael, too, seems just a bit more grown up than he did before we left.

Caroline still says she misses Ryan and Kerri and the girls at school, and frequently asks why we had to move, which of course is a delicate question to answer since we didn't, in actual fact, HAVE to move. I've thought about telling her that mommy is wanted in three states, but that would require too much explanation. Hopefully she won't hate us when she's older. Not for this, anyway.

Michael's Birthday

As you may know, Michael's 3rd birthday was on the 22nd, so we had a Lightning McQueen cake for him (Lightning is the main character in the Disney movie Cars, for the uninitiated). As you can see, both Michaeland Caroline enjoyed it immensely. It was an odd cake - the frosting was hard, like some sort of edible plastic, but I have to say that it was actually kinda tasty. There's a sort of raspberry jam used to stick the frosting unibody to the cake, and the cake itself didn't have that sickly sweet box cake taste. It's no Daily Bread Bakeshop cake, but then we didn't have to pay duty on it. Oh, wait, yes we did - 17.5%...

Anyway, Michael had a great birthday, and thanks to all who sent him cards!

More Travelogue

Today, we went to the London Borough market. It's held every weekend near London Bridge. Don't worry, it showed no signs of imminent collapse. The market is really the embodiment everything we moved to London for - food, wine, interesting people. We bought far more than we can actually use, but it was great fun, prowling the stalls, talking to the vendors, noshing on the free samples. As you can see from the pictures, Michael and Caroline enjoyed the market, too.

Probably my favorite thing about the market today was buying wine. It was only £3 for a bottle, and that includes a £2 deposit. It may not be great, but for a quid, who cares?

We didn't see a quarter of what there was to see, but we wandered out and into the churchyard of Southwark Cathedral, where we sat on a bench and noshed on the sausage I'd just bought on impulse. Delish!

I needed a toilet, so I went for a wander while the kids chased pigeons at the cathedral. Along the way, I found a replica of Sir Francis Drake's ship. The kids LOVED it. They had me going up and down the steps, crawling through the gun deck (which is no more than about 5 feet high, and bashing my head on just about everything in sight. It was great fun as you can see from these...

Once we'd had enough of the sailor's life, we retired to the nearby Thameside pub for a very pubby lunch of fish and chips and mashy peas(with an ale for me). Unfortunately, we had to sit outside, much to the children's dismay, as it was a little breezy. Lunch wasn't exactly pleasant, what with the kids whingeing about being cold and alternately loving and hating the fish, but we made it through without anyone getting thrown overboard.

Despite the less than ideal lunch, it was still a great day. We really do like living here...

A few thousand words

It's not that I haven't had anything to post all week, it's that I've been really busy with work. More accurately, with social events around work. We've had guests in both of the last two weeks, so there have been an extraordinary number of after work events in the pubs around the office. Being a true company man, I feel compelled to attend all of them. But now it's the weekend, my hangover is gone, and I'm ready to write. But now the family needs some attention, so we're going to the market. In lieu of wuch writing today, I'm going to offer a few snaps of our excursion to Wimbledon Park last weekend. This is a bit of a distance from the house (1 stop on the tube and then a short walk), but a really nice venue, as you can see from the below.

Perfect Day

What a great day. Really. No sarcasm. I went to the little corner grocery store first thing in the morning because we needed milk (the largest quantity of milk available here is a litre, which doesn't go very far) and had a nice chat with the clerk, which is something I always enjoy.

Then I took Caroline to the neighborhood park, which a short walk through a nice leafy neighborhood to a broad open space with a nice playground. By "nice" I mean well supplied with the sort of playground equipment that would make a personal-injury lawyer turn cartwheels. Interesting thing about this country - they're not nearly as litigious as we Americans are. You'd never see a merry-go-round in an American playground. You remember those - everyone would sit on it and someone would run around pushing it as fast as they could before jumping on. Sort of a little kid centrifuge.

We met a really nice Brazilian family in the park, I hope to get together with them soon. Caroline had a good time with their daughter, who was kind enough to share her fruit. Now, I really resent the useless dad stereotype (you know, the one the advertising hacks like to use in commercials for cough syrup, wherein the mother is too sick to get out of bed so the father feeds the children cake for breakfast while overflowing both the dishwasher and washing machine and letting the cat have a crap in the piano), but I must admit that I do have a tendency to go off adventuring with the kids wholly unprepared. Today was no exception. No food, no water. Fortunately, people still exist who take pity on such helpless creatures as myself and are willing to share the benefits of their foresight.

We have an amazing Italian bakery just around the corner, so on the way back we stopped in for some cheese and cookies. No, these don't necessarily go together, it just happens that La Bottega del Pane has a fantastic selection of both. By the way, cookies are "biscuits" here, which is slightly confusing because crackers are also "biscuits". I've no idea what they call "biscuits". Probably something obvious like "jimby-wimbies".

After lunch, we all had a little playtime in the backyard. Michele and Caroline beat Michael and me in a soccer match. This is no great feat, given that Micheal's two and I have no athletic ability whatsoever. My ankle is still swollen where Michele kicked it. I think the doping committee wants a word with her.

After dinner, a short stroll into town to buy staples: biscuits (of the cracker variety) for the cheese, a roasting pan, a good bottle of wine and some ant spray. Kids in bed by 8, dinner, wine, cheese.

Weather-wise, this was probably the nicest day we've had since we arrived. It was bright and warm, with a nice breeze for most of the day. Some heavy overcast around lunchtime, but otherwise, simply glorious. On the way home tonight, with the warm brown Victorian brick standing against a crystal blue sky, it struck me that I'm actually living in London. Wow. That's kinda cool.

I've been told that London summers are the only reason anyone lives here, and summer's clearly on its way. And all along, I thought people came for the jimby-wimbies.

A Dirty Joke

Before we moved in, our landlord supplied a new washer-dryer, which is installed in one of the kitchen cabinets. Note that I said 'washer-dryer', not 'washer-AND-dryer'. This machine is a single unit, which is designed to save space, water, energy and, by extension, the entire planet. This machine also a useless piece of crap.

Now, I must point out that this is not the fault of the landlord. It's pretty much a standard issue unit, and I don't think it was cheap. I must admit that the idea of a single unit that does both washing and drying does have a certain appeal. Many times I opened the lid of our old washer only to find towels that had been washed days earlier growing moldy from the damp. The trouble is, because the new unit is so energy efficient and, well, just do darned small, it takes all day to do a load of laundry. Last weekend, I washed 2 bath towels, a hand towel and a couple of washcloths and it took over four hours.

As you might imagine, with 2 adults and 2 kids, we generate a lot of laundry. Maybe Brits don't wash their clothes every time they wear them. I don't have a problem with that - I rewear my jeans and t-shirts several times before I throw them in the laundry. I picked up this habit in college, when my laundry money and my drinking money came from the same source. But with kids it's different. I'm not sure where the ick comes from on their clothes, but it's a rare day that we don't have to either wring out or scrape off some unidentifiable remnant of food or, well, I just don't want to think about what else it could be.

Point is, we generate laundry faster than we can clean it. The instructions are pretty explicit - don't put more than 2.5 Kg in if you're going to use the dryer function. For you metrically challenged folks, that's a little over 5 pounds. 5 lbs. just ain't a whole lot of laundry. When we first arrived, we had so much laundry (from staying in the hotel and with family before we left) that we ran the thing constantly. I think we did 10 loads in the first two days. The dryer takes so long that we resorted to hanging clothes on a wire clothes rack left over from the previous tenants.

Interestingly, though, we seem to have gotten used to it. Rather than doing laundry once a week as we did in the US, we do it every day. Several times. It's worthy of comment now when the washer isn't running. It feels like something is missing. So I guess we're settling in.

"It'll be done by Tuesday" and Other Amusing Stories

...and we're back.

Sorry about the lag in postings, we've only just tonight gotten our broadband working. More on this shortly. But first, a little Q&A to catch you all up.

Q. Have you moved in to your house?
A. Yes. We oficially moved in, furniture and everything, last Wednesday. Our air shipment arrived on Friday, which contained clothes, some linens and pillows, some pots and pans and a few surprises (like books) which we hadn't expected to get in this shipment, but which were welcome nonetheless.

Q. Has Caroline started school?
A. Yes. She went for a few hours last Friday, and began her schooling in earnest yesterday. She looks so cute in her uniform! She like school, and has made friends with the "two Sophies" and the "girl with the Barbie glasses". She's still at a bit of a loss as to what to do when she arrives at school, but she'll soon adjust, I think.

Q. How do the kids and Michele like living there?
A. I think it's safe to say that they're adjusting well. It's easier for me because I go to work now, but they're stuck here. We had tea with some neighbors a few days ago. They live a few doors down and have kids the same ages as ours (though their boy is the eldest). Really nice folks. As it happens, we met them through our landlord, Roddy, who lives in South Africa. His cousin and our neighbor Nick grew up across the street from each other, and Nick and Roddy met at the cousin's wedding a few years ago. I'd emailed Roddy to introduce myself a few weeks before we moved and he kindly passed my email on to our neighbors Nick and Sophie. They've been very kind to us.

Q. Have you started your job?
A. As alluded to above, yes, I have, yesterday. Still adjusting to the commute, which is about an hour. The time isn't as much of an issue as is the lack of air conditioning. Now, you wouldn't think that you need AC in a place that's normally as cool as London, but the problem, you see, is the humidity. It's so damp here that I start sweating the instant I walk out the door and don't stop until I get to the office. I'm going to have to keep a change of clothes there. It doesn't help that everyone seems to walk around dressed for winter, either. Just looking at them with their heavy wool coats and scarves gives me heatstroke.

OK, I think that's all the general news. Now for the mad ranting.

There were a number of items to be addressed in the house before our arrival. These were stipulated in the lease, and I'd assumed that they'd been done. Imagine my surprise when I arrived on Tuesday to get the keys, only to find that the oven door was still broken, the carpets were a mess, the back garden was still full of weeds, the front room hadn't been painted, and the toilet looked like an Army latrine.

Fortunately, Michele and the kids remained at the hotel that day, or it would have been chaos. As it was, I split my time on Tuesday and Wednesday between scrubbing the kitchen floor and giving tours of the house to various tradesmen. I must admit, though, that I'm quite pleased with the responsiveness of our management company. They admitted that they'd made a greivous error and worked quickly to correct it. Short of everything being perfect when we arrived, that's about the bease I could ask for.

There are still a few things to be done - the carpet in the front room still needs to be replaced, the oven is still broken (a new one is supposed to be installed on Friday), the carpet is still a disaster and the outside of the window still needs to be repainted, but we're getting there.

Apparently, this "we'll get to it when we get to it" sort of attitude is prevalent here. I am fortunate to work in a place where now means now, but this doesn't seem to be the norm. Come to think of it, I guess it's not the norm anywhere else, either. Getting BT to connect my broadband has been something of an ordeal, too. I was quite impressed when the self-installation kit showed up on the day I got the keys (in fact, I think the man delivering it was the first person to come to the door). But when I finally got around to hooking it up, no joy. Three days and several phone calls later, still nothing.

I happened to mention this experience to someone at work and discovered that we have several people whose job it is to help out with stuff like this. And even better, they sit literally right next to me. It was pretty funny listening to Ryan on the phone with BT pretending to be me. At one point he said "hang on, I have to go ask my wife," and I nearly fell out of my chair. Anyway, my alter ego seems to have come through because tonight, wonder of wonders, I have broadband.

I'm sure that this will make me the envy of the office, because everyone I've talked to so far has said that it took them at least three weeks to get connected. Ha, ha! They haven't met my husband, Ryan.

Apart from having to share it with a Jamaican carpenter, a Czech painter and a bevy of Russian cleaners, our house is actually pretty nice. It's just a few blocks from the main street in Wimbledon (called The Broadway), where we've got three grocery stores, two wine shops and a handful of betting parlors. The train station is a 5 minute walk and there's a YMCA with drop-in classes for Michael. This is especially convenient, since you all know Michele likes to play the ponies :).

Our new UK Kitchenaid and Cuisinart arrived the other day (I just had to have these - you'll laugh, but I consider them absolutely essential), so I made dinner on Sunday night. This required a trip to the market in the rain, but believe it or not, I didn't really mind so much. And the fact that I could make the dinner with rosemary from our garden more than offset the inconvenience of having to wrap the flour in a bag to keep it from getting wet on the way home from the store.

So far, on balance, I like living here, and I think Michele and the kids do, too. We miss everyone back home terribly, of course, but there's a certain satisfaction in carrying out this huge change without killing ourselves. And that, I think, is precisely why we moved here.

58 Years

At this point, I want to make a brief departure from my usual travelogue/mad ranting and mention that today is my grandparent's 58th wedding anniversary. God bless 'em. They raised 5 teenagers in the 60's, which I'm sure would make our incessant chasing after Michael seem like, well, child's play. Congratulations and Happy Anniversary, Grandma and Grandad!

London, Day 4

I'll have to come up with more interesting titles for these posts, or both of you will stop reading. Today's activities, like typical London weather, were a mixture of highs and lows. In the morning, after a nice breakfast at Embankment Cafe (where we always seem to end up, even when it's closed), it began to rain. Now, the forecast has been calling for light rain every day since we arrived and it hasn't, so we've started to mostly ignore it. But of course today was the exception. And it wasn't a "light rain", either.

We figured that we should try to toughen the kids up and decided to have a walk over to Buckingham Palace (actually we'd set out in that direction before the rain, and, in the absence of any better plan or a map, soldiered on in the deluge). We'd have made it, too, but for some peace protest or other blocking the way. I suppose we could have found a way around it, but between the rain and the crowds, it just seemed like too much effort. So we just did what any middle class American family would do - we went back to the hotel, watched a movie and had a little snooze.

Watching a movie and having a snooze with Michael is a frustrating endeavor. He's fine for about 20 minutes, which is just long enough for you to close your eyes and start dreaming, when he decides you've had enough rest and wants to play. With everything. He has this incredible ability to ferret out the one thing he's not supposed to have and fixates on getting it while we try to keep him from it. This usually degenerates into tears or tantrum. Oh, and Michael doesn't like it much, either.

So, after a few abortive attempts at napping, we thought we'd have a little lunch. We'd heard that the Smollensky's down the street, part of a high-end steakhouse chain, caters for families at lunchtime, and indeed they do. Perhaps a little too much. The key to successful dining with a child possessed of Michael's, er, inquisitive nature is to install him in some sort of restraining device and to have as little distraction on the table as possible. Despite the extensive kiddie menu, Smollensky's only has high chairs of a size suitable for Cabbage Patch dolls or very premature newborns, and the bags of goodies contained a quantity of little colored pencils which, when lashed together with some vines, could have made a raft big enough to send the entire cast of Gilligan's Island home for the weekend. The clown was a nice touch, too, but he went home early.

The good news, though, is that while we were busy keeping the boy from eating the eraser or grinding his finger into the little pencil sharpener, the clouds broke and, wonder of wonders, the sun shone. So, after lunch, we resurrected our plan to show the kids the house where the Queen lives, with somewhat more success this time (no protest). Unfortunately, with the sun came a mighty wind, and with it, pollen which was exactly the texture of Fiberglass insulation. As you might imagine, this made for rather uncomfortable and slow walking, owing to the frequent stops to remove stuff from the kids' eyes. We did, however, get to see a large number of ducks, geese and other waterfowl in St. James's Park, which runs along the avenue leading to the Palace. And a little girl gave Caroline some bread to feed to the wildlife, which was fun until a flock of pigeons elbowed their way in to the action.

And just as we coughed and sneezed our way up to the Palace perimeter, tears streaming down our faces, with the late afternoon sun glinting off the gilt coat of arms on the Palace gates and beheld the glorious sight that is Buckingham Palace, Caroline started whining about when we were going to do "something fun".

And therein lies the rub. "Something fun" for me is sitting outside a pub in the afternoon sunshine, reading newspaper articles I barely understand and drinking warm beer. "Something fun" for me is getting lost in a maze of narrow, crooked and possibly unsafe streets and stumbling on a really great restaurant. "Something fun" for me involves two trains and maybe a bus to get to a weekend market to buy some green beans from the guy who grew them. "Something fun" for me does not involve anything that moves in a circle, wears a costume or is sticky.

After a festive dinner of Pret a Manger sandwiches in the hotel room (not at all as expensive as the room service ones), we thought we'd score some ice cream from our favorite Cafe in the park (the ice cream is REALLY good), but it was closed, so we settled for hot chocolate and shortbread from Starbuck's. Michael did not find this an acceptable substitute for the promised ice cream, and apparently thought the drink would be better if first poured on his shoes. But we had a nice little run in the park, and by that time the wind had died down, so it was really a pleasant evening. See, I'm developing the distinctly British positive outlook already.

London, Day 3

Much better day today - kids finally fell asleep around midnight last night (late, yes, but still better than 3am), up at 10 this morning. Breakfast in what has become our regular cafe in the park, then on to Wimbledon for our first look at the house since our trip in March.

It seems smaller than I remember.

The kids were singularly unimpressed by either the house or the Wimbledon area at large. "Boooring," was the extent of Caroline's review of the town, though she did manage to find a few flowers and leaves to pick. She also noticed that our house is "'tached together with the other houses". It wasn't clear whether this was a positive or negative comment or whether she was merely making a factual observation.

Had a bit of a wander through the back streets of town, still like it, though it's really not at all as pleasant a place when the weather's grey as it was in the brilliant sunshine in March. It will definitely be an adjustment for all of us to be living in such crowded conditions.

But we soldiered on, to the highlight of the day, the Morden Hall Show, which is a sort of country fair in one of the parks near Wimbledon. Apart from being about the most expensive carnival I've ever been to $3.00 for 4 minutes on a trampoline and $4.00 for a carousel ride, in addition to the $30 to get in), it was actually a pretty nice event, I thought. In general, both the people attending and those working at the event were pleasant, polite and helpful. At one point, a couple of 8 or 10 year olds accidentally knocked something out of Michael's hand as they ran past him and one of them actually came back and picked it up for him!

There were also beer and Pimm's stands scattered around the place, which made for a really festive atmosphere. If you don't know what Pimm's is (I didn't until a few months ago), it's some sort of low-strength liquor which they mix with "lemonade" (actually 7-Up) and to which they add strawberries, lemon, orange and cucumber (of all things). It's really yummy and quite refreshing.

The best value-for-money attraction of the day, though, was the butterfly tent, in which you paid 50 pence (half a pound, or around $1.00) to go into a tent filled with all kinds of butterflies. Caroline loved it and, although the butterflies scared her a little, she picked up a number of them and generally had a great time. Unfortunately, most of the butterflies had broken wings by the end of the day, so she was a deeply concerned about their health and well-being. I didn't really have much in the way of comfort for her on this point, as I'm fairly certain that butterflies don't regrow broken wings.

The kids are back to their on again-off again sleep routine. The least little noise sets them off. I wonder if they'll ever sleep right again...

London, Day 1 (and 2)

Well, we're off to a somewhat slow start. Kids were great on the plane, but Caroline threw up as soon as we got into the airport, then again while waiting (and waiting. And waiting.) for our bags. And once more while we were loading the car. London is just as cold, grey and expensive as I remember.

Room was ready at the hotel when we arrived (hurrah!), so we settled in, took a lengthy and much-needed nap and ordered room service for lunch.

Plane fare for four: $7000. Porter for 10 bags: $50. Four sandwiches, two bottles of water, two glasses of milk from Savoy room service: $150.00. Exchanged looks with spouse of shock and dismay: Priceless.

Oh, well, it's only money. And hey, we sold our house just before we left! Hurrah, hurrah!

Last night was abysmal. Started off just great - kids in bed by 9, Michele and I watched a little British television (which is strangely not quite as funny as it was when I was just a visitor). Asleep by 11. The fun started at 11:30 when one of the kids woke up. Then the other one woke up. Then we were all up until 3. Fortunately, they slept until noon, but that only means that tonight is going to be more of the same.

Today, we took a walk in a park, had lunch in a little cafe in said park, rode a carousel, rode the London Eye and had an early dinner outside on a boat.

This all sounds very civilised, and it would be but for one thing - children. Trying to find the interesting sights in a strange place while keeping them entertained, fed at regular intervals, and free from greivous bodily harm is probably the least enjoyable exercise I can think of. Michael insists on retrieving every piece of trash he can find. At one point he proudly presented me the still-moist wad of gum recently liberated from the chomping jaws of a none-too-bright girl from California.

Caroline is a bit easier to manage - she generally doesn't do what you tell her not to - but at age 5 she still tires easily, and thus requires quite a lot of coaxing and carrying from her parents, who have really had just about enough of this sight-seeing thing, thank you very much.

Children don't tolerate hunger very well, either. You might think that this low tolerance would give rise to a willingness to eat nearly anything put in front of them, but you'd be wrong. Plain pasta with butter becomes 'yucky' when garnished with a bit of parsley, and a stack of 'chunky chips' (really just extra large French fries) is eyed with the distaste normally reserved for wet wads of gum. Go figure.

We turned a corner, though, on the walk back to the hotel. After a miserable, expensive and largely uneaten meal on the heaving foredeck of the Hispaniola, we thought we'd have a wander back through the same park we'd come through earlier in the day. The same cafe where we'd had lunch now displayed a sign for ice cream. What the hell. The kids deserve a treat for, um, well, for no reason in particular except that we feel compelled to try to provide at least one bright spot.

The ice cream was really very yummy and got a warm reception from the kids, who, reenergised by the sugar, positively danced their way back through the park. Perhaps this traveling with children thing isn't so bad after all.

P.S. it's now 10:50 pm, and the kids are still awake. Well, Caroline's still awake and Michael just woke up. I suspect he thinks it's 6:50pm, that he's just woken from a nice little nap and that shortly he'll be getting a bit of dinner and some play time. Did I mention that traveling with children is about the worst experience imagineable?

Goodbye, New York

(Note: I wrote this last Thursday, but neglected to post it)

Some of you may know that I don’t like endings, and some may have gathered that from the other posts in this blog. When I read a book, I start feeling a little hollowed-out when the falling action starts, and by dénouement, I’m utterly drained. I’d almost prefer that the end come swiftly and with a minimum of warning, so that I can skip the out-of-phase feeling I drag myself around with for days while I slog through the final chapters. This move is not much different. I’ve been saying goodbye for at least 8 weeks now, and I’m feeling a pretty gutted by the whole experience now.

I’m happy to say, though, that today, I bid a final goodbye to something which I will not miss in the least – my weekly trek to New York. For those fortunate enough to have a sub-three hour commute, please allow me to share with you some of the joys of this weekly (or more) event.
My day starts at 4:55am when the alarm goes off for the first time. Normal people might not need to set the alarm this early for a 6:05 train, but I need at least two snoozes before I actually get up, so I can get 30 more minutes of junk sleep. 5:15 out of bed, out of the house by 5:45, at the train station by 6:00, train at 6:05 when it’s on time. One thing I’ve learned in the 8 years I’ve been doing this is it’s healthy to develop a Zen-like acceptance of inconvenience. This makes those days when it’s 9 degrees out and the train hasn’t come by 6:30 somewhat more bearable.

It was also useful for me to develop deafness, or at least to have acquire a decent set of earbuds (thanks, Mom!). This so that I can block out the woman across from me humming tunelessly in between retching into her cell phone about nothing in particular, or make it easier to bear the idiot in front of me playing with the ringer on his phone (both of these going on as I write this). By the way, when I become king of the world, my first royal decree will be to make it not only legal, but an outright obligation of every citizen to throw from a moving vehicle anyone with a pop music ringtone.

Dash up the steps to change to another train in Philadelphia, or, as is the case today, take a leisurely stroll to Dunkin Donuts for a bagel and coffee, and return to my train. Arrive Penn Station 8:30, Biblical parting of crowds to get to subway, long ride to South Ferry, where you “must be in one of the first 5 cars to exit” and apparently must also be “stone deaf” as conductor announces this on full volume in heavy Jamaican accent.

I should mention here that my department moved some years ago from some fairly nice offices in Midtown Manhattan to offices downtown. Now, I shouldn’t complain, since downtown is still Manhattan, but it’s about as close as you can get to not being Manhattan without actually being there. In fact, downtown is really a suburb of New Jersey. There’s a story that our downtown building was the basis for the 1970’s disaster classic, “The Towering Inferno”, but I believe the real buildings were in Brazil.

In fact, our building could have been the basis for “The Poseidon Adventure” because every time it rains, there’s a good 3-4 foot wide puddle which I’d have to ford in order to get to work. There is apparently a bridge somewhere in SoHo, but that’s just too far to walk.
There ARE a few things I’ll miss about New York, though. For one thing, a bunch of us would always order curry on Thursdays. Towards the end, the Chicken Tikka Masala (CTM to those of us in the know) was just about the only reason I went on Thursdays. Thanks, WinOps guys for turning me on to Little India.

I’ll also miss the energy that New York gives off. It’s hard to explain, but if you’ve never been there, you should really go. I’ll miss the coffees with my friends and colleagues, I’ll miss the parties (though as we got older, these slowed down considerably). And I’ll miss the great views we had of New York harbor, particularly when an interesting ship would glide past the windows. I’ll even miss the way the subway comes screaming into the station. I’ll miss my conversations about Islam with the guy who used to drive me home when I stayed late.

OK, so I have some good memories of New York. I really always loved being there. It was getting there that was a burden.

Goodbye, New York.