The UK Transition

So here I am across the pond for the first time at somewhat of a loss for what exactly to expect. Truth be told, the first few days went considerably smoother than I had imagined. I got no sleep on the flight over (as expected) which was NOT delayed despite recent terror threats as well as the altogether unsurprising snow flurries that whipped through Copenhagen around the time of my connecting flight. Even going through customs and my route from Heathrowe to the hotel seemed to plan itself as if I had commuted in London before. For the most part things are peachy: great people, lovely atmosphere, and I even like my room despite not having a tv and regressing back to a bed the size of a large shoe. Enrollment and course registrations played out as many would expect who have gone through the process before: a small tree's worth of forms and sheets, redundant meetings, meaningless errors due to lack of interdepartmental communication, and hours of queuing (it is London after all). In all, the first week of settling in went by so surprisingly smooth and comfortable I am left with a bit of a sense of unease about the whole situation. This ominous feeling stems from the undeniable fact that nothing truly went wrong. Not horribly wrong, not somewhat unsettling, not even marginally wobbly. Nothing. After years of experiences when it is generally understood and even expected that whenever this many people and agents are involved in a coordinated effort, in this case getting myself and scores of other students enrolled in the university and settled in, that something inevitably will falter and cause headaches. But not this time (yet...).

So rather than spending my time cleaning up some form of clerical error, I have a measurable sense of calm that I am sure is disproportionate to the amount of work that went into finalizing all of the logistics of my transfer. Even as I navigate around much of London town for the first time untested in the European life style, I can't suppress the feeling that I have been here before, that the city was expecting me, that I almost could belong here. Even the unprecedented snow makes me feel reminiscent. But I get ahead of myself. This is not a claim that I conquered London in a single week, but that one expects the first few days to be either hectic or a week long endorphin high due to the novelty of the situation. My week in contrast has been pleasant and relaxed like visiting an old friend except for one major frustration that will continue to be an issue everyday until a solution can be found: what to eat for dinner.

Don't get me wrong, the food and restaurants around London are great and will constitute their own specific consideration and exploration in due time. The issue here is simply monetary in that I still operate on a college budget and can not afford to drop five pound a night on dinner. It adds up quick. The simple solution is to carry on preparing my own dinner as I have been for quite some time, but then there's the rub. I had spent the past few years slowly building up a respectable collection of kitchen tools and cookware which are now sorely missed sitting alone and unused back in the states. It's not like I could pack my cast iron skillet or my spice rack, so it all had to remain behind. Similarly I can not justify buying everything anew when it will end up staying here when my term is up in a few months. The solution it seems is a 'band aid' fix: beg, borrow, and deal to fill in the blanks. Even with some help from a few friends who lend/share some of their hardware with me, there were still some essentials that had to be purchased as they are items that any cook can not do without. Basic pantry items, a utility knife, 16cm saucepan, wooden spoon, and a coffee press.

So it's back to basics, again. Armed with a limited supply of the bare essentials and a shared kitchen, I must recommit to stretching every dollar, or pound rather, without expanding my waist line. And so help me there will be flavor, there will be curry, and there will be ale on cask.