nickinshoreditch

This is something I may do going forward that would be more in the nature of the New York Times’ Metropolitan Diary.

I was walking through the market near our flat yesterday and thought I heard Frank Sinatra music. I came around the corner and, under a tent there was this old guy with a  speaker set up and a small crowd watching. He was doing his between song patter to the crowd, and he sounded like you’re basic Cockney taxi driver. But then the canned music  started, the Sinatra music began and the accent changed to New Jersey.

We finally got our other four bags from Judie’s law firm, where they had been in storage since July. I pulled out my leather jacket, since it was starting to get chilly. I immediately went from street guys trying to sell me things to people coming up to me and ask me for directions.

Judie and I were eating the best masala dosas we had ever had when my phone rang (this was the first time this is ever happened when Judie wasn’t on the other end). It was Craig Hirshberg, who is visiting her daughter in London, inviting us to have dinner in three hours. So  we walked off the dosas and we ended up having an amazing dinner at a Hunan restaurant in SoHo.  I ordered duck tongue which was delicious, but I discovered, to my surprise that these little duck tongues actually have a bone or maybe it’s a cartilage going right through the middle. Anyway, now I can say I’ve eaten duck tongue. Judie said she was imagining little mute ducks walking around unable to quack.

Judie needed hangers so she could finally unpacked her clothes. So I trudged off to Argo’s to get her some. I’ve concluded that it is Kmart without the charm. It would be difficult to conceive any way to make the shopping experience more miserable. I’ve learned my lesson.

The Interim Minister at our UU Congregation at Montclair recently sent me an e-mail about the British and bureaucracies. The Brits didn’t invent bureaucracies. I’m certain that the Romans and Greeks had them and probably King Tut before that and I suspect that some neolithic cave man insisted that you provide him with two flints and a description of what you were going to paint before he let you into his cave. No, the British didn’t invent the bureaucracy, but they perfected it and, indeed, turned it into an art form.

Our saga trying to open a bank account continues. We tried, back in July to open an account, but were told that we needed a visa. You might ask why our immigration status is relevant when we are just trying to give them our money, but, fair enough, it is an international thing. So we get here Friday, a week ago, with our visas, only to find out that the banks are closed until Tuesday and, not only that, but you can’t just walk into a bank and open an account, you need to make an appointment. And the next appointment won’t be until September 8th. You might wonder why the British make it so hard to open an account. It is the nature of bureaucracy that such questions are unanswerable. As you peer through the fog of paperwork and procedures, you are simply advised that these are the rules that must be followed. No one knows why.

But Judie pulls Bryan Cave strings to get us an appointment on the 1st and we get there and are told that we can’t open an account because, although we have our visas and everything else we need, we don’t have our residence permits (the British equivalent of a Green Card–only here it is pink). Of course, the British government won’t give you the card in the US along with your visa. (I’m trying to come with a rationale for that.) No, you have to pick it up at a post office (and Judie and I are, mind bogglingly, assigned different post offices). They know that we are coming and presumably have created the cards, but for some reason the cards won’t be available until September 4th. We go to the bank with the letter from the Home Office, telling us to pick up the cards on or after the 4th, but that isn’t good enough, so we are yet again out of luck. However, at least they take all of our information, put it in the computer and give us an appointment near Judie’s office for Friday, when we will have the cards.

So today, we appear at the time and place, this time with everything we need, figuring that we can just cruise in and out. Two hours and fifteen minutes later, I stagger out of the branch. We have bank account number (Hooray), but we don’t have debit cards (they will arrive in the mail next Thursday or Friday, but they won’t actually be usable since the PIN numbers will arrive separately, days after that), and we don’t have credit cards (they’ll allegedly arrive in around 10 days) and we don’t have checks (who knows when they will arrive).

I’m not sure that this will interest anyone and all this whining reminds me of Bill Bryson’s writings, but I had to write it down to ease my frustration.

I am trapped in a world of what seems like a decades old internet connection, so trying to work on this is problematic. After today, there is a good chance that there will be no internet in the flat, since Judie may have to return the portable WiFi hotspot to the office. That could mean a two week black out for me, except for taking my phone somewhere with free WiFi. All I’m saying is that if this Blog gets very quiet soon, it won’t be permanent.

More exploring Shoreditch on Sunday. There are so many clothing stores here, it is really hard to believe. Vintage clothing is especially popular. And there are countless street food vendors at every market or open area you come to, selling all sorts of cuisines, from pulled pork sandwiches, to cupcakes, to thai food, to curries, to pasta, especially as you move towards Brick Lane. The best nearby grocery stores seem to be Indian or Bengali, although there is a natural foods store in our building and a mediocre Tesco a block away.

That is one of the strange places about this area. When you look out our window to the West, there is a skyline of big, new glass buildings, as the businesses and money of the City have moved in this direction. Just two blocks west, it is all banks and law firms and corporations. But two blocks east is Brick Lane, with little shops and restaurants, street food, chaotic markets, a different smell. It is like we are on the line between two worlds. I was walking around in the afternoon and passed an Indian wedding. You also hear many different languages.

I found what might be a good wine store. It is nearby and they deliver, which is helpful when you don’t have car. I bought six bottles, which is their minimum order. I was beginning to worry that wine prices would be really high here, but that was just because my initial forays only found tiny shops around Spitalfields Market that also had outdoor seating and small plates. The wine store I found today has prices that seem generally equivalent to NJ prices, even with the currency conversion, although the selection is very different. Not much from the USA, but more from South Africa, New Zealand and Australia and, of course, France. I’m thinking of an expedition to Borough Market tomorrow or Tuesday. It is supposed to be an absolute foodie heaven, so I’ll see what I find there.

Another odd story which may reflect life in London: We really need to get some sort of basic things, like a clock radio and some clothes storage solutions and a few extra towels, and were told that we should shop at Argo, a department store. I looked them up on line and they had a big selection of goods and a store about a 15 minute walk away. So we walked over, but when we got there, there was no there there. No store. Just a place with some computer terminals and pay stations. You could look up want you wanted, pay for it and then give your receipt to a clerk, who eventually brings out your order. This seems to be in line with the quickly emerging theme of execrable customer service here. I suppose that they save some money by not having any employees (fulfilling the Thatcher dream) and they eliminate shoplifting, but they also eliminate impulse shopping and the entire shopping experience. It just seems so wrong to me, I didn’t even want to get anything after the longish walk, but Judie insisted. So now we have a clock radio.

One of the interesting things about Shoreditch is the amount of public art on the walls. It is a sort of beautiful graffiti, some of it quite monumental.  They are really everywhere. A few examples are below. Tried a new pub tonight: the Water Poet. It was on a quiet street, so we were hoping it wouldn’t be as crowded as the ones on the main drag near us, but tonight was a cider and hog fest and the place was a madhouse. It has possibilities though. Ate Mexican across the street from the flat (Boho Mexicana). Good food that is fairly authentic. Kind of pricey. But I guess I just have to get used to London prices. I’ll write more when I can.

Exhilarated, Exhausted, Frustrated. Mostly good, a little bad.

Despite the jet lag, which seemed especially debilitating this time, everything went pretty smoothly at first. We got to the flat (apartment) in time to me the person from the estate agent (realtor). The place is probably not quite as big as I recalled, but it is really nice. I love the view and it will eventually be comfortable as we move in. Photos will eventually follow. The sunset the first night was great. The bed was reasonably comfortable and the drunks on the street below were barely audible. And it is a completely different experience living in a building with a glass elevator and African concierges.

First night, we went to Poppy’s (about a block away and an acclaimed fish and chips places in London). Next day we went to Brick Road (another couple blocks away) for a curry lunch at a Bangladeshi place (pretty good, but I’m expecting better as we explore). It really is an amazing neighborhood. Lots of people wandering around and it is incredibly diverse. It is going to be fun to explore. I found a good hardware store today and it turns out that there is a restaurant wholesale place across the street (it will come in handy), right up from Brooklyn Coffee. We went to the Spitalfields Market and the Brick Lane Market (amazing street food) today. Tried the Commercial Tavern tonight in the beginning of the great pub search. So much more exploring to do. And we haven’t even left a five block radius yet!

As we unpack, we realize that we have brought too much clothes (I’m looking at you, Judie), especially since this flat has not much storage. We are going to have to buy some furniture and clothing racks. And we haven’t even gotten the other four suitcases we left at Judie’s law firm in July! But it is fun to uncover bits of art or other things that we did pack. It is a bit like moving into a hotel room that you are going to live in for over a year. We need to make it ours.

Now for the bad: British customer service is so terrible that it would lead to lawsuits in America. While we just walked into a bank in Montclair and opened a bank account last Wednesday in about 20 minutes, when we got here, we found out that banks are not open on Saturdays and that Monday is a “bank holiday” and that, in any event, you can’t open an account with making an appointment, which you cannot get for at least two or three days. If we are lucky, they might deign to give an account by the end of next week. No wonder their empire collapsed. As for getting cable service or an internet connection for an apartment that is already wired up, we have to wait until the 10th and the 15th, respectively, for a person to show up (and pay for the privilege). In the meantime, we are living without technology here. It may seem like a romantic throwback or something, but it is really just a pain. But this shall pass and in a month it will be an amusing anecdote (I guess).

Much more to follow.