If At First You Don't Succeed...

Our new view

Okay, so last year I started my life as a lady of leisure with a bunch of goals, one of which was to get healthy. Well, I failed. Miserably. It didn't help that I lived in a super hot sweatbox, sucking my will to live along with any desire for physical activity. I just wanted to stop sweating and my logic was that if I'm sweating by just sitting then who needs to exercise. Silly logic.

But, early last month we moved to a luxurious apartment with air-conditioning and an elevator. We're calling our new home The Hotel because it's like a freaking Intercontinental. We live in a goddamn Sofitel. There's no pool but our building does have a fitness room. Score! No more excuses!

A long time ago, when I was still in my 20's, I read an article that stated that both your body and health begin to deteriorate in your 40's so your 30's are your last real chance to provide a good foundation for your body as you age. I'm 37. Shit's getting real.

So, I'm giving this healthy living thing another try. In addition to running and cycling, I'm now also doing this 30 Day Push Up Challenge. I'm on Day 20 and making some real progress. I read somewhere that your arms are the fastest to respond to exercise and that push ups are the best non-aerobic exercise for overall body strengthening, so I'm hoping to be motivated by some positive physical changes shortly. My strength is already improving but I get the sense that arms need to be continuously trained in order to maintain their strength. Thus, I know that this is just the first step to a push up filled future. Yay.

practicing the dangle

For a long time I've had a goal of being able to do a pull up because someday I may fall off a cliff or building or have to hang onto a window ledge to hide from human traffickers who have broken into my hotel room. Eventually I'll need to pull myself up off the cliff / ledge or, at the very least, dangle until help comes. Today, I'm so weak that I would fall to my death almost instantaneously. I'm hoping that a well-executed series of push ups will strengthen the muscles needed for a life saving pull up and that this 30 day challenge may be the first step in eventually saving my life. Plus, how awesome is the person who just starts doing pull ups at any given gathering of friends? Um, super awesome.

Of course, exercise is just a small piece of the healthy living puzzle. Apparently, diet is even more important. My weakness used to be baked goods (cakes and Pillsbury Grands especially) but, not only are those not as easy to come by here, we also don't have an oven, so that problem has really just solved itself.

I do still possess a weakness for the drink though. Namely gin and tonics. There was a time I thought these were zero calorie because tonic is just water and gin is just...I'm not sure of my logic here. Maybe clear? Anyway, I was wrong and they're not. In fact, most of my daily calories were coming from booze. Thus, new rule, no drinking during the week (except if out with friends because no one likes the teetotaler). So far abstaining from my nightly G&T hasn't been too bad. Perhaps gin and tonics don't taste as good as healthy feels? (Yes they do but I'm employing will power here.)

With some additional dietary adjustments (more fruit, less everything else, etc.), I'm really hoping to begin to see some real changes soon. I used to have a goal to run a destination marathon for my 40th birthday. That goal has fallen to the wayside but I might revive it. Or, maybe hike a long trail, like the Pacific Crest Trail or Appalachian Trail. Or, maybe something more exotic? Hiking definitely sounds more my speed than marathoning. I might also enjoy a good, long bike ride. Either way, I'm resolute this time. I'm writing it down. People know about it now. Healthy living, here I come.

New York State of Mind

As Mike begins applying for jobs abroad and we begin planning our escape from New York I can't help but reminisce about our move to New York and the plans we had for this place. We've been here over a year now and, in our current state of disenchantment, it's hard to recall our excitement at the prospect of calling this city home but, even with the sadness we had about leaving London, we were genuinely excited about moving to New York City.

I remember being so excited about our move here that I would force my officemates to listen to optimistic New York tunes on our shared Spotify playlist ad nauseam. After one too many Alicia Keys' "Empire State of Mind" plays my buddy introduced me to LCD Soundsystem's "New York, I Love You But You're Bringing Me Down" to balance out the vibe. Perhaps I should have adopted his perspective then because, while I still enjoy the occasional "New York, New York," I'm finding my current empire state of mind is more LCD Soundsystem than Alicia Keys; more Ray LaMontagne's "New York City's Killing Me" than Frank Sinatra.

We had grand plans for this move, believing New York was going to be our permanent home. We were going to be so happy here. We were going to put down roots, become members at a few of the museums, volunteer at a few others, make amazing friends. Mike was going to be an artist. I was going to work at the Clinton Foundation or United Nations. After a few years, maybe Mike would open up his own gallery.

Perhaps, amidst all our hopes and dreams, we briefly considered that New York City might not work out but we never fathomed that our perception of New York City could be so wrong. I guess, "if you can make it here, you can make it anywhere" is actually less optimistic than we had perceived. Damn you and your catchy tunes, Frank Sinatra. Damn you.

Happy New Year! (or, F U 2013)

2013 was a rough year for us. Although no one died and we've still got our health, we did encounter a few too many challenges for our comfort. Without question, part of the problem, like when we moved to Dundee, were our high expectations. We thought we knew what we were getting into (e.g. moving to a city we'd been to before, back in the USA) and would be safe expecting a certain level of comfort and familiarity. We were wrong.

Happily (you have no idea), we not only survived the trials of 2013 but prospered, even enjoying a good portion of it - admittedly, most of which was during the latter half - and are ending it in a much better position than when it began. As a consequence of our rough beginning though, we find ourselves a bit less confident of our decision making skills but a bit more self-assured of our resilience.

As we begin to map out our ideal 2014, we're hoping to apply the lessons we've learned over these past years to the obstacles and challenges which will inevitably befall us. Especially with a big move planned for July, we must remember these lessons so as to avoid landing in the same difficult spot yet again (fool me once, shame on you...). With that in mind, in addition to the traditional health and happiness that we always hope for ourselves, we're adding the secular sentiments within the Serenity Prayer to our annual refrain.

...serenity to accept the things I cannot change;
Courage to change the things I can;
and wisdom to know the difference

In particular, the serenity and wisdom would be nice traits to acquire. And, though you might think we have courage in abundance, this year really beat it down and we now find ourselves lacking it in certain situations. Hopefully it regenerates because we'll need every bit of it if we have to make some hard choices this year (e.g. where to live).

Due to our rough year, we haven't had the opportunity to see many family or friends this year, though we're closer to most than we've been in a long while. Hopefully 2014 will bring more opportunities to see those we love. In the interim, we hope your 2013 was a good one and we wish you a happy and healthy (and serene, courageous and wise) 2014.

Missing Europe and What Could Have Been

Mike enjoying the fruits of his labor
(yes, that is a bride at a bar mitzvah)

Mike has been working some crazy hours.  We think this is what happens when one becomes an adult.  We don't like it but we're accepting it, for now at least.  Since Mike started his job in mid-April, he's been working six days a week and at least 12 hours each day.  Crazy, right?  Happily, this past weekend was the last event he has on until September and yesterday we received word that the end of these crazy work hours just might be nigh.  More importantly, we're looking at the possibility of actually getting some paid time off over the July 4th holiday.  I was initially very excited upon hearing this news because I love to plan our holidays but, after just a few hours, my excitement has turned into a whole bunch of other feelings.

I'm not sure if I've discussed the utter devastation we experienced last year when the UK eliminated our visa scheme, essentially destroying our 20 year plan.  Perhaps due to the mind switching into survival mode, and all our efforts being focused on our forced return to the US, I may not have mentioned our heartbreak, or at least not harped on about it.  But, now that we've come out the other end and staunched the downward spiral, I would like to state, for the record, how utterly devastated I am that we gave up everything for only a two and a half year experience.  I could've accepted the absolute loss for a 20 year adventure but for just two and a half years?  Perhaps time will change my mind but right now I'm not fully convinced it wasn't an absolute failure.

To be honest, Dundee was horrid.  Even with my sweet government job, we were still two people living on one person's very low salary in a horrible small town surrounded by scary hillbillies.  We lived in almost complete isolation during this time and, with the bulk of our two and a half years abroad spent there, this may explain my feelings of resentment, remorse, and anger.

Once we got down to London our fortunes changed immensely and, had we not had to save every penny for our imminent transatlantic move, we would've been living quite comfortably.  We had an apartment we liked, great friends, and jobs we both loved.  We were able to experience what could have been for about 6 months, and it was very nearly perfect and exactly what we had hoped it would be.  Losing that reality is no doubt the source of my sadness.

The Plan had us living in London for two years where we would've, with no doubt in our minds, been very successful.  If The Plan had been allowed to continue I would've accepted every sacrifice as having been worthy but that's not what happened and today we find ourselves worse off than we were as newlyweds, back in 1999.  I can't help but compare where we were to where we are.  Living abroad is different; because we had never been there before we had no basis for comparison.  But, starting over in an American city; we've been here before.

As I begin to plan our first real holiday since returning to the US I can't help but recall our recent past and how it could have all been very different.  If we'd gotten to stay in the UK, I'd be comparing Portugal to Croatia or Finland to Austria.  Instead I'm comparing Boston to Providence and Maine to Vermont.  There was a time when our current situation - living in New York, comparing east coast cities for upcoming holidays - would've been acceptable and exciting but after everything we've been through I can't help but feel like a giant failure.

Mid-March Update

Here we sit.  It's now March 14 and we don't have much to show for it.  We're still both unemployed.  As I suspected, I failed at my first attempt at my dream job.  Luckily, they saw my potential and offered me the opportunity to interview for another position within the organization.  I had my final interview for that position this past Monday.  Sadly, I won't know if I succeeded this time until next week.  Preliminary reports say I 'interviewed very well' so I'm cautiously optimistic.  Mike's had no luck whatsoever though.  Poor guy.

Brooklyn side of the Williamsburg Bridge

We're continuing to explore our city on foot to help fill our days.  We just discovered that there is pedestrian access on more than just the Brooklyn Bridge so we've decided to walk across all the bridges.  We started this past weekend with the Williamsburg Bridge.  With fewer people than the Brooklyn Bridge, and separate paths for bikes and pedestrians, it made for a much nicer walk across the East River.  It's also somewhat protected from the elements and has the added bonus of being used for the J train.  The pedestrian and bike paths are above the car and train traffic so you get to watch trains pass below you while walking across the river. I thought that was fun.

Bumping into a friend from London in the LES

While walking from Chelsea to the Lower East Side for our Williamsburg Bridge walk this past Sunday afternoon we bumped into a friend from London.  We're just walking down Bowery when someone yells my name.  It was so awesome!  Seriously, what are the odds?

This has happened to me once before though.  We were in Washington DC in 2008, staying at a small B&B in Columbia Heights, when one of the few people also staying there turns out to be someone I went to high school (or junior high) with back in Utah.  Crazy how small this world is, right?!

Anyway, that makes two friends from London and zero friends from the US.  I'm not sure why that's something I'm keeping track of.  I just find it interesting.

Hopefully next week brings good news for our family.  We need some good news.

And Then I Was Bottled

at the house party
before the attack

In the early hours of a recent Sunday morning, probably around 12:30am, Mike and I were making our way home from a friend's house party in Walthamstow.  We had decided to take the tube home (our first trip on the tube since returning to London) as we were quite a distance from our place in Bermondsey and didn't want to deal with multiple bus changes in strange neighbourhoods at night.

We jumped on the Victoria Line at Blackhorse Road station but our train terminated just a few stops down the line and we were forced out at Seven Sisters (still quite a distance from home).  As we went for a bench to await the next train a group of boys left another car of the same train in the midst of a fight.  Mike and I just sat down on a nearby bench and waited (we were drunk and numb to any possible danger).  At this point I also decided to start filming the commotion with my mobile.  When the fight dispersed the remaining boys turned their attention to me.  One of them threw a bottle at me.  It hit me in the face.

before my stitches

The next six hours were spent in the hospital.  I received four stitches, had an X-ray to make sure there was no glass in the wound or broken bones and a CAT scan to determine if there was any brain damage.  The cops who had driven us to the hospital (because the ambulance was taking too long) stayed with us throughout and drove us home afterwards.  We made it home around 6:30am.

Sunday and Monday were spent nursing my black eye, which swelled to the point of closure, and just generally recuperating.  I stopped at my doctor's office before heading in to work on Tuesday to make sure everything was healing as it should, which it was.  On Friday I had my hair cut (with fringe; by a professional) which helped my mental healing a bit.  The stitches were removed the following Monday, eight days later.  Almost three weeks after the attack and my black eye has almost completely healed. Although the scar is looking better than I had expected I'm still traumatised whenever I look at it and I still don't have feeling in parts of my head due to the nerve damage.  But, I'm healing.

my new haircut,
almost two weeks after the attack

With the station's CCTV and my video, plus the fact that the bottle-thrower is rather easy to pick out in a crowd (think dwarf), the cops are pretty confident they're going to find the guy and get a conviction.  They tell me I'm a victim of an unprovoked attack causing GBH (gross bodily harm) and the guy is in a whole lot of trouble.  I haven't heard anything further about the case though.

There are a million ways this could've been much worse (and at least a few where it could've been avoided entirely) but my mental healing requires me to not think about the what-if scenarios.  My focus right now is on my healing (more mental than physical at this stage) and moving forward.

My support network here has, once again, proved amazing and my new friends, coworkers and employer have all been very supportive and protective and understanding.  Mike is taking excellent care of me too.  Once there's more time between me and these past few weeks, I'm sure I'll be fully healed as the doctors have predicted but, right now, I'm still pretty fragile and jumpy.  I allowed myself that first week to hide and cower but I'm slowly returning to normal and eventually I'll be fine.

my scar,
almost two weeks after the attack

The immediate aftermath had me doubting our move to NYC in January but then I remembered a coworker in Seattle's story.  She moved herself and her teenage son to New Mexico.  Two weeks after the move her son was killed in a car accident.  Death, violence, bad things happen everywhere.  We could move to the safest city in the world but it wouldn't guarantee anything.  We're still moving to NYC in January and, though I can't guarantee anything, I know I'm smarter than I was before I was bottled.  Another life lesson from this time abroad.  This one comes with a physical reminder, though.

Visa Chaos

On Thursday morning at 8am our flat was raided by the UK Border Agency.  They had a warrant to search the premises and to arrest the former tenant.  Happily, they realised almost immediately that we were neither that person nor colluding with her and the whole episode lasted less than 5 minutes.  Still, it was traumatising.

This run-in with the law caused me to begin researching our post-study visa options, wanting to prevent any similar episode from happening again.  Unfortunately, what was supposed to be a simple transition now appears rather complicated.

Since arriving in 2010 we have been assaulted by the British government's anti-immigration rhetoric.  We've mostly ignored it though, since our visas were sorted until Oct 2014 (Mike's original graduation date).  However, now that Mike is graduating in June, our visas are no longer sorted and we are elbow deep in this anti-immigration tsunami.  In an attempt to prevent immigrants from stealing all the jobs, the Government has revamped the visa schemes, including those targeting international students.  The Post-Study Work visa, which we were relying on in order to stay in the UK after Mike's graduation, has been eliminated effective 5 April (yes, just a few short days ago), leaving us with few options to extend our stay past Mike's graduation.

We have sacrificed so much (houses, possessions, credit ratings, savings, etc.) in order to live abroad and for Mike's career and it was all going to pay off once we got down to London.  Now, we're faced with the reality that all that sacrifice may have been a bad investment.  Sure, Mike will now have a Bachelor's degree and we've gotten to travel a bit but that's it.  Was it worth it?

Mike will hopefully speak with the international student adviser at his university on Monday.  Hopefully, he'll get some concrete options from that discussion.  Based on the UK Border Agency website, if we want to stay in the UK Mike will either have to remain a student or receive a Graduate Entrepreneur visa, only 1000 of which are available this year.  Needless to say, Relocation 2012 is shaping up to be much more chaotic than its predecessor.

Epic Fail

We spent this past weekend in Inverness thanks to our Sainsbury's vouchers.  On Saturday morning, we grabbed the 9AM train and were in Inverness by noon.  Upon arrival, we immediately dropped our bags off at our hostel, where we'd be spending Saturday night, and began exploring the area.  Inverness is super cute and, like everywhere else in Scotland that we've visited, we liked it tons more than our own town.  Dundee is a shit hole.

Ness Islands trail

We decided, because of our late start, we would stick around Inverness for the day and explore Loch Ness on Sunday.  We headed west along the River Ness to explore the Ness Islands (lovely), with the intention of walking the first part of the Great Glen Way, a 117km walking trail from Inverness to Fort William.  Unfortunately, due to our late start and stopping for a meal, we didn't quite make it as far as we'd hoped before we had to turn back.

The part of the walk we experienced wasn't terribly exciting though.  There were no amazing views or great scenery.  Apparently, 'the capital of the Highlands' is a misnomer because Inverness isn't in the Highlands.  It's pretty though but that really isn't a replacement for what we had expected.

Great Glen Way

Our first night was spent uneventfully and we awoke on Sunday morning psyched for our day at Loch Ness.  Though we had originally hoped to get to Foyers on the east coast, for their legendary falls, no buses run to Foyers on the weekend, at least not during low season, so we were heading to the west coast of Loch Ness, to Urquhart Castle, as our Plan B.  Unfortunately, when we got to the bus station to buy our tickets, we were told the schedule we were using to plan our whole day was out of date and that there were actually no public buses running to Urquhart Castle, or anywhere along Loch Ness.  There was, however, a private tour company operating an all day tour for £27 per person that we could purchase.  We were screwed.

River Ness

Inverness is cute when just passing through but trying to kill a whole weekend in that small town proved difficult.  Saturday had been fun because we didn't expect to spend any additional time there.  Stranded for another whole day, Inverness quickly loses its charm.  Any shops or restaurants that were going to open on Sunday (not many) weren't opening until noon, leaving us with a few hours to kill before we could get a drink or go shopping.  We were bored out of our minds and it wasn't even 11AM.

We rallied as best we could and decided to take the scenic train route, via Aberdeen, home.  We jumped on the 3:30pm train and were enjoying ourselves until Elgin when we lost our seats to an old man claiming to be disabled (we were sitting in the priority seats).  The train was full and we wound up in the doors for 1.5 hours, without much of a view or comfortable seats.  By the time we were back in normal seats it was dark and the 'scenic' part of our train ride had passed.

I'd been having a pretty tough week, even before this weekend's epic fail, so I was absolutely broken by the time we got home, around 7pm Sunday night.  The whole purpose of spending a weekend in Inverness was to explore Loch Ness and we left without having even seen it, or much else.