KPMG gives us two options for a car.  We can take an annual car allowance and purchase a car, or we can forfeit the allowance and use a car from the company’s fleet.  For convenience mostly, we decided to just lease a car from the company fleet.  Unfortunately, (but not surprisingly) they didn’t have a car in their fleet big enough to fit our family so they are going to acquire one.  (Buying a car just for us! Yay!)  In the meantime they have given us this VW Touran to drive until September.  (It is a rental.) 

It is so small compared to our van from the states.  It’s size hasn’t been a problem yet, in fact it makes driving in the city so much easier, and this car is on the big side of things.  I can’t imagine trying to drive anything bigger than this.  It seats seven, two in front, three in the middle and two in back.  It’s quite cozy.  There is no way for me to “walk” to the back and hand out snacks like I could in our Sienna.  Sorry kids!  There are no aisles or very little legroom to speak of.  But the biggest difference is the “boot” or the trunk of the car.  It fit one suitcase, as opposed to the Sienna that could fit six or seven.  

A lot of things that are new to us with this car aren’t unique to the UK, they are just new to us.  For example, it’s a hybrid, so whenever the car is at a standstill with your foot on the break for more than a few seconds it turns off.  This is such a strange feeling! At first I kept thinking the car was dying over and over.  It was unnerving and it takes some getting used to.   To get the engine running again you just put your foot on the gas and it fires right up.  

It has no “oomph” at all. Which suits me.  I’ve never had a need for speed and I do believe in being ecologically responsible so I’m willing to sacrifice that for fuel efficiency.  And did I mention 

IT IS SO FUEL EFFICIENT! 

Here they call gasoline “petrol.”  And it isn’t cheap.  But our little road trip to Ramsgate and back only used about half a tank of petrol.  Not too shabby.   

I was under the impression that all distances here would be measured in kilometers, and sometimes they are. But most of the time they are measured in miles.  And all the speed limit signs are in mph.  Time is usually done in what we call military time on digital clocks.  2:00pm=14:00.  That is taking a little getting used to.  And temperature is in Celsius, which I am still trying to make myself familiar with.  19 degrees Celsius is just barely starting to mean something to me.  (That seems to be the average temperature of our house.)

Anyway, the car is working quite well for us.  Richard has already become an all-star parallel parker.  And you can park on either side of the street, facing either direction.    The problem is, the roads are so narrow that if you are driving in a neighborhood and someone is coming from the other direction, one of you has to pull over into a parking spot in order for the other one to get by.  This usually goes smoothly and naturally, but sometimes it doesn’t.    

Driving on the other side of the road takes some getting used to, I’ve had to remind Richard a time or two that he needs to be on the left, and as I mentioned I’ve had my own moment of mental lapse.  

We don’t plan to use the car much.  It’s easier for me and the kids to get around by bus or train and Richard will never drive to work, all for the same reason which is parking.  I will probably have to drive the kids to school because we chose a school that didn’t happen to be very close.  And by very close I mean that it is 1.3 miles away and my walking limit is one mile.  (With the kids anyway.) And we will probably drive to church.  Otherwise it will be used mostly for little day trips or weekend holidays.  

So that’s that.  Our {little} car.  

Once we found out we were getting a car I planned a little roadtrip.  I was dying to see the ocean and we had to get out of that apartment.  Someone at church had suggested Ramsgate, and then I saw on the map that it was close to Dover Castle and the White Cliffs of Dover.   We packed light because of our little car and off we went! 

The traffic in London is terrible.  The other day when it took two hours to get to IKEA, Richard said 

“Oh Eagle road.  I’m so sorry for thinking you were so awful.  You have never caused me as much grief and frustration as I am currently experiencing.  Except maybe turning left onto you from McMillan.”

But in terms of distance it doesn’t take long at all to get to the countryside.  And it’s so beautiful.  So many trees! And sheep. All told, it only took about an hour and a half to get to the coast. 
  
The first night we drove straight to Ramsgate and ate dinner at a place called “Oh My Cod!”  Talk about a hole in the wall.  It was run by a family from Cyprus.  (I love asking restaurant owners where they’re from.  It’s a new hobby.)  It was an older couple, their daughter and her husband and her little girl.  She was also due any day with #2 and she served us in sweat pants.  We had fish and chips and we had the restaurant to ourselves.   They were so kind and chatted with us about our kids, where we were from, and of course the World Cup.  Thank goodness for the World Cup!  It’s been an automatic ice breaker in so many conversations I’ve had including the Nigerian IKEA delivery guy, the Brazilian server, and the Turkish restaurant owners, just to name a few.  

Most everything else in the city was closed for the day so we just walked along the harbour and let the kids gaze upon the sea while we tried to force appreciation on them.  Richard says he didn’t see the ocean until he went on his mission at age 19.   

We checked in at our hotel where the concierge was American and gave us some great suggestions about where to go and how to get there.  We had to get creative with sleeping arrangements because the room was so small but it was reallly inexpensive.   It took a little while and some smacking but eventually the kids calmed down and fell asleep.  Richard and I were forced to read books of all things because we couldn’t watch t.v.  But eventually it was relaxing and quiet, just as a holiday should be.  

In the morning we drove to the White Cliffs.  (After a tasty continental breakfast wherein I consumed multiple croissants and Simon consumed pork and beans.  For breakfast? Seriously?) 

There have been many things that have fallen short of the way I imagined them.  Reality is sometimes disappointing.  But the White Cliffs of Dover gave me the special experience of being better than I imagined them.  They were majestic and I felt euphoric standing on the edge with the sea breeze blowing my hair and feeling on top of the world.  They have their own beauty, sheer white cliffs so high it takes your breath away.  And history too- I imagined what a welcome sight they were to many an Englishman sailing home from the mainland.   I could have stood there, or sat down for a really long time if it weren’t for hungry and tired kids, who probably needed to use a toilet.  (Or poor Cameron’s desperate pleas for me to come away from the edge.)  

It took most of the morning to hike out to the viewpoint and back.  There was a lighthouse Eli really wanted to walk to, but we were pushing our luck with the kids and so we didn’t go for it.  We grabbed lunch in the town of Dover and then went to the castle. 

It’s almost midnight here, what a day!  Our internet access has been inconsistent because we haven’t arranged for internet service yet, but you can pay a few pounds for temporary internet access through local hot spots. I’m not exactly sure how it works but I begged Richard to get me connected to the world again! 

I have spent the last two days assembling furniture.  My knees are sore and my back aches and my forearms are weary.  But little by little our house is starting to feel comfortable.  It won’t really feel complete until all our belongings from the states get here.  (Probably in a couple weeks still.)  As a side note, when people ask where I am from I always say “The states.” And they look at me confused.  So I say “America” and they nod and say “Ohh. Okay.”  But I was once told that South Americans and Canadians resent it when Americans from the USA monopolize the term “American”.  But maybe that’s all hogwash.   (Side note to the side note- I’m sorry if my punctuation is bad tonight, or always.) 

Tonight I did two brave things.  I drove for the first time! And I went to grocery shopping and bought more than ten items for the first time.  It happened like this. 

The supermarket I went to is less than a mile from our house, and I would normally walk but it turns out when you move into a house with nothing there is a lot to buy.  Let’s face it, the Ramen-ish noodles from the Indian market could only go so far… I didn’t want to send Richard because I wanted to get what I wanted to get, and he couldn’t be trusted.  (Sorry babe, love ya.)  And because today was his first day of work, which meant my first day alone with the kids cooped up in this house with no toys and no t.v. all. day. long.  All of that to say that I was forced to drive.  

Aside from trying to get into the car on the left side (something I laughed at Richard for doing) and not knowing how to turn it on, the drive to the store went quite smoothly.  I need to write an entire post about the car but I’ll save that for later.  

I took all these pictures with my phone so they are what you get from a phone camera.  What makes the house so loveable to me is that it has a lot of “period features” but is modern in the important areas.  (Kitchen and bathrooms.) 

A couple months ago I downloaded the IKEA UK catalogue on my iPad and perused it’s pages.  Then a few weeks before we moved I spent a couple hours doing a more specific search for the most inexpensive and practical furniture.  It was really fun and I had a great time choosing things.  I imagined going to IKEA and wandering leisurely through the showroom and market and warehouse gathering the items I needed to make our new residence a home.  KPMG gives us a relocation allowance so I was thinking “What could possibly be better than shopping at IKEA with someone else’s money?!”

Let’s just go ahead and add that to the list of things I’ve romanticized about moving to London.  

We made our first trip to IKEA last Tuesday.  We took the train to get there and it was relatively easy and straightforward. I had made a list from my favorites in the catalogue and brought along my trusty notebook.  We planned to leave the kids in Smaland and have a much needed break.   Turns out the kids can only stay in Smaland for an hour, so we only got about 2/3 of the way through my list, recording the item numbers, and locations in the warehouse.  Then we hurried back to pick up the kids and called it a day.  IKEA will only deliver items one or two days after purchase, so we had to wait until Saturday to buy everything anyway. 

By Saturday we had received our car so we decided to drive to IKEA.  So we drove.  And drove and drove.  We actually drove down the longest high street in Europe, Streatham High Street.  Traffic was terrible.  And then we got lost.  The British equivalent of Siri was telling us the most bizarre things.  We could SEE the tall smokestacks in the IKEA parking lot, with the blue and yellow banners but we could not GET to them.  It was infuriating.  By this point we had been driving for nearly two hours and the kids were hungry and impatient and someone had to use the toilet.  (WHY DO MY KIDS HAVE TO PEE SO MUCH?!) 

It was pouring rain and by the time we got into the store I was already grumpy.  There was a 30 minute wait for Smaland so I let Richard sit with the kids and I got a head start, which turned out to be grossly insufficient.  By the time our hour was over we still had a lot left to do so there was kid shuffling, kid distracting, a trip to the cafeteria, a few trips to the loo, walking walking walking.  I’m sure every IKEA is busy on a Saturday but I’m quite sure this IKEA was exceptionally busy. 

The thing is, picking out pillows and mattresses gets really boring.  And then it becomes really stressful when you throw four kids in the mix.  We had to have everything delivered so in sheer desperation we opted for an extra 10 pounds to have IKEA staff get our items from the warehouse for us.  SO WORTH IT.  

We had a cart full of items we needed to pay for, and the lines were horrendous.  And then we had our list of items that needed to be retrieved and delivered, and arranging for IKEA to do that apparently requires enough paperwork to organize a small country.   I kept taking the kids and leaving Richard to do said paperwork and then he would have to chase me down in that HUGE store to ask me a question.  Because, did I mention, his phone had died? 

At last the work was done.  We got ice cream cones, made one last trip to the loo and were off!  Trouble was, Richard’s phone was dead, and I’m still figuring out how to to get a functional data plan on mine, so we were on our own without the help of Mr. British Siri to get back to our apartment.  But we made it, in half the time! And no one had to pee the whole way home.  Thank goodness because I was utterly exhausted. 

The only part about the whole experience that makes me smile (at this point, maybe I’ll feel better when the boxes and boxes of unassembled furniture that surround me actually resemble FURNITURE) was that the IKEA staff loved the little American kids.  They loved them on Tuesday and they made a big fuss when we were back again on Saturday.  And it’s a darn good thing, because guess what? 

We get to go back again tomorrow.  

Today is our last day in our apartment.  I have mixed feelings about this.  There are so many things I’m not going to miss. For example, all the doors in the apartment are spring loaded and close automatically.  I understand this is for fire safety but it’s quite a pain, it makes for difficult temperature control for one thing.  And it’s also really impractical with the kids.  The kids sleep on the first floor and we are up on the third floor and although you can hear surprisingly well from top to bottom due to the small spaces, if our door was closed at night and the kids doors were closed we would never hear Eli wailing when his leg fell asleep or Simon whimpering because he wet the bed.  Wait a minute… maybe I’ve misjudged the value of the spring-loaded doors…  But in the meantime I’ve been propping open the doors with our huge suitcases.

I also won’t miss being on the 20th floor and worrying about what the kids are dropping out the windows or throwing over the patio wall.  But then of course there are so many things I WILL miss.  I will miss being on the 20th floor with almost an entire panoramic view of the city, especially the view at night.  

I will not miss living in the financial district which is not family friendly, it is a hustle and bustle and we are constantly battling commuter crowds.  But I WILL miss living in the financial district with the smart looking people in their business suits and all the posh shops and restaurants.  

I will not miss living with something else’s belongings and worrying about what my kids are doing to them.  But I will miss having the maid come and clean.  

It has also been hard to maintain any kind of kitchen.  I mostly buy only what I need to make a single meal, which has its advantages but can also be problematic when I go to saute the veggies and have no olive oil or anything that resembles it.  I will not miss having empty cupboards and an empty refrigerator.  But I will miss having per diem and eating out at tasty new places.   

I’ve really come to love Canary Wharf. I’m familiar with the trains around here and the restaurants.  I love running along the river.  I like the simplicity of our apartment with so few belongings.  But we are so done living out of suitcases.  We moved out of our house in Kuna on June 4, so it has been a full month of transition.  We’ve packed up our suitcases and changed locations four times now.  We are all jonesin’ for some stability.   This week we took a little road trip and Simon was so confused about where we live.  In a hotel? In the apartment? At Baca’s house?  In our new house?  

So tomorrow we will go to church, and then when church is over we will walk down the hill to our new, completely empty house where we will meet up with the agent and the key.  Then Richard gets the pleasure of using our little car to shuttle our 12 suitcases from the apartment to our house.  And hopefully IKEA will deliver our mattresses so we can have something to sleep on besides the hardwood floors.  

Parks have been our saving grace the last three weeks.  This one is our favourite- Sir Jon McDougal Gardens.  We all loved this cool swing.  

I’m still working on posting this holiday… maybe my subconscious just wants to keep re-living it every couple of weeks. 

On Thursday evening after we got back from Dover castle we went back into Ramsgate for dinner and had Fish N Chips again.  Then we took a walk down by the beach.  It was breezy and cool but that didn’t stop a few beach goers.  For awhile we watched a man doing some sort of sailing/surfing.  He would ride the board out, with the wind pulling his sail, and then coast back in.  He did it over and over.   I want to put it on my bucket-list; whatever it is. 

I wanted to try to get one of those cool jumping pictures that are all the rage for bridesmaids and best men and weddings these days.  This is what I got instead.  

The next morning was Friday, the 4th of July.  We wanted to do something patriotic so we went to a WWII museum.  It was small and had two exhibits: a Spitfire and a Hurricane.  Those were the two British bomber aircraft flown during the war.  The boys weren’t too impressed at the time, but now that they’ve learned so much they are dying to go back and see them again.  

The coolest part for me was that there were three old men there, and two of them had been pilots during the war.  They took their jobs so seriously, even though I’m sure they just volunteer their time there.  They answered all our questions and took pictures for us.  

Spoiler Alert: There is a picture of me in this post! 

After the museum we went out for lunch at then drove to a beach that was recommended by our hotel concierge.  

I’ll let the pictures do most of the talking. 

I will mail European chocolate to whoever can offer me a satisfactory explanation to this mystery.  All over the beach were these little piles of sand and little holes.  I know they look like turds, but they are sand, I promise. You can see them in the pictures above.  It’s as if someone pressed sand through a pasta maker in little piles all over the entire beach.  Then the tide would come in and wash them away.  

Chasing the birds. 

I didn’t even pack mine and Richard’s swimsuits because the forecast said it was going to be 68 degrees.  I figured kids aren’t too picky about weather for swimming but I didn’t think the adults would be interested.  It ended up being over 80 degrees and we were wishing we were in the water!  I’ve never seen a forecast be so terribly incorrect and been so disappointed about it. 

After we finished at the beach we drove back to London, sandy and exhausted, for our last couple nights in our apartment.