Sorry about the cliffhanger. Due to numerous reasons, I wasn't able to post the final installment of the Sleepless in Seattle series. In case you haven't seen the rest and have no idea what I'm talking about you can see parts 1, 2, 3, 4 and 5 by clicking on the respective links.
So where we left it was thus: We'd made the decision to move to Seattle.
Our final day in Seattle saw us having lunch with my husband's boss and telling her that yes, we would like to move there. We rounded it off by seeing one last school before catching our plane and flying back to the UK.
Getting home, we kicked all our plans into action. We told friends we were moving. We contacted estate agents to put our house on the market. My husband told his company to start finding his replacement. I started making plans about my business.
It was all systems go.
But I still wasn't sleeping. I had hoped that having made a decision at last, I could settle down to the practical business of moving, rather than the woolly umming and aahing that we'd done for months and months. So why was every fibre of my being saying that this was the wrong decision? I kept telling myself that it was just nervousness about moving to a new place, that it was normal to feel this way about such a big move. But how do you distinguish between a nervous knot in your tummy and a gut instinct that's telling you it's the wrong decision?
I began to look at the world around me, the British world I had not only taken for granted, but felt didn't live up to my expectations. And suddenly I saw everything with new eyes. The gentle spring days that offer up a soft, subtle loveliness. The friends we have here, both old and new that add richness to every day. The quirky quaintness of virtually everything. The proximity of so many cities all within a few hours, all offering variety. Having Europe and all that it offers right on your doorstep. The BBC. Never ever underestimate the marvellousness of the BBC. The lack of underlying aggression and tension which I felt in the US. The sense of humour.
It was as though blinkers had been taken off my eyes. For so long I'd been looking for perfect. And the grass seemed greener just about everywhere except where we were. But we caught a plane to take a look at the grass. And it wasn't greener. It was different. And probably better in some ways. But on balance, there is a reason why William Blake described England as a green and pleasant land.
I realised that moving was the wrong decision. I figured that if we invested even a small part of the amount of energy we'd have to put into moving and starting from scratch, we could create a life right here that works for us. After one particularly lovely weekend with friends, my husband realised it too.
We cancelled all moving plans. And instead, put into action our 'Create the life we want right here' plan. I will be making changes with my work (more on that later in the year). My husband is going to be putting a new virtual working model into practice where he works at home most of the time instead of commuting into London, compacting his time spent there and abroad into specified weeks. We're changing our house around to use it better. My husband is getting involved in the local community. We're looking at new clubs to join. We're taking what we already have and making it better, instead of starting from scratch. Mostly, we're genuinely appreciating all that living in good ol' Blightly has to offer. It may not be perfect. But it's a lot more perfect than we realised.
I'm still getting the email alerts from US estate agents and a tiny part of me thinks: 'It would have been lovely to have one of those huge houses. And it would have been a grand adventure.' And I do find it quite terrifying to be able to see what our future looks like, rather than the freedom of the unknown with the wealth of possibilities it offers. But this whole experience has made me realise that life can be an adventure wherever you are. It's what you make of it.
Most importantly, I am sleeping soundly at last.
PS - to celebrate the brilliance of having Europe on our doorstep, we're off to France tomorrow. Happy Easter!
Showing posts with label Seattle. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Seattle. Show all posts
Friday, 15 April 2011
Monday, 7 March 2011
Sleepless in Seattle - part 5
Wednesday rolled in with a bright blue sky and bags under my eyes. We decided to spend the morning revisiting some of the places we'd already seen. We browsed the suburbs. Drooled over houses we could never afford. Stopped at small lakeside parks. Imagined playing there with our boys. Generally drove aimlessly about hoping that a large sign in the road up ahead would say: take this decision -and steer us to the right answer for our family.
We stopped at a supermarket so that I could remind myself of US food products. When we used to the live in the US, I remember being utterly amazed at how many different types of cereal you could get. Most of them with bucket loads of sugar. I also remember always buying sliced turkey from the deli counter yet I NEVER buy sliced turkey in the UK. Why is that?
Heading into the supermarket it struck me again how loud the packaging was in the US. Everything seemed to scream its message in neon or primary colours. Where were the understated whites & creams with simple Copperplate fonts on a box of biscuits? You know - sort of Dutchy Originals. I started thinking that I could move there if only to start up a range of products that came in simple, quiet packaging as they would stand out in a quiet little bubble on the shelf amid all the noisy colours.
I left the shop (store) feeling mixed. Not up. Not down. Just kinda blah. As though new products which ordinarily would leave me over excited, just felt meh. Being influenced by the novelty of silly things like foreign foods might have been fine when I was young, free and single. But this was a decision that would change the course of our children's lives completely. I needed more than pepperjack cheese to win me over.
We headed over to another school. A state elementary. It seemed nice, but beset by problems most state schools suffer from - funding. But apparently the PTSA was 'super involved' and 'super active' to ensure that the kids had a 'super nice time' at school. As we were leaving, the lady showing us around said: "Sorry about all the book bags lying on the floor. They belong to the kids at ski school." "Ski school?" we asked. "Yeah," she said. "They finish school early on Wednesdays and some of the kids get taken to the mountains for skiing lessons. It's just a 40 minute drive away."
Skiing as an after school activity. Check. Not something readily available in Berkshire. That went onto the pros column.
We headed south of the I90 to check out a place called Newport Shores, a small suburb of very fancy houses right on the lakeside with little canals in between for more moorage space. This was Wisteria Lane, with kids running in the street, shooting hoops, zooming around on scooters. It was a kids' paradise. And it had it's own yacht club. Another plus.
We drove past another of the secondary schools - amazing sports facilities. Honestly, better than most local English sports clubs have. We stopped in at a mall for some lunch. We sat in a Red Robin, surrounded by high school kids. It was fascinating to watch them. The cool kids. The Asian kids. The nerds. The nerds checking out The Girls. It was exactly like in the movies. Only the kids actually seemed really nice and not too posey, but that was because we were South of the I90 and away from Uber Posh-ville.
So there we were, eating our buffalo chicken wings with bottomless fries and bottomless soda, and we asked each other: "So, what do you think? Should we move here?"
And there it was. The ninety million dollar question. How do weigh all the pros and cons up, when some pros weigh so much more and some cons could break your heart?
We made up a list on the ipad.
Pros:
- a 15 minute commute for my husband vs 1.5 hours each way
- a husband/father who didn't travel abroad for work 80% of the year
- great schools (but scarily big)
- much bigger houses
- beautiful area
- better off financially
- the chance of a better quality of life
- the chance for me to find a new career or something completely different to do
- a grand adventure (those who know me know that I'm always looking for the Next Big Thing)
Cons:
- the weather is no better than England
- it is very, very, very far away from just about everywhere
- leaving behind our friends, what little family we have here and the network I've only just built up. Ripping up those fledgling roots just as they were starting to get a good grip
- the plastic feel to the place - no heart or character
- would life really be different or would my husband still work all the time?
- raising children with a completely different culture to either of ours
- our quality of life right now is pretty good, bar the missing husband/father. There's the chance we could make it worse. Why walk away from a sure thing?
- what the heck would I do for a job?
It was a long discussion. One that seemed to drift around in circles without ever feeling as though we'd really found the perfect answer. We just kept coming back over and over and over again: if we don't move, how could we make it work in the UK? How could my children see more of their father and how could I be a single parent less of the time? And there just isn't an answer to that. Not one that works. And believe me, we have brainstormed them all.
So, four large soda pops and two large baskets of fries later, we decided that on balance the pros outweighed the cons. We should do it.
We pondered our decision as we walked through the Cougar Mountain National Park. The beauty of the place (very Twilight type woods) seemed to reinforce the rightness of moving there. But we slightly questionned it again once we studied the sign at the start of the trail which gave instructions on what to do if you come across a bear or a cougar (do look a cougar in the eyes, but don't look a bear in the eyes - you really don't want to muddle those up).
We then had dinner at another ex-work colleague's house which had the most amazing views over the whole of Seattle, the lakes and Bellevue. It was so jaw-droppingly beautiful that it seemed to reaffirm our thinking.
After another lovely evening with lovely people, we went back to the apartment and actually slept.
We still had a day to go but our decision was mostly made. I just wished that I could silence the niggling rumble of worry in my belly.
We stopped at a supermarket so that I could remind myself of US food products. When we used to the live in the US, I remember being utterly amazed at how many different types of cereal you could get. Most of them with bucket loads of sugar. I also remember always buying sliced turkey from the deli counter yet I NEVER buy sliced turkey in the UK. Why is that?
Heading into the supermarket it struck me again how loud the packaging was in the US. Everything seemed to scream its message in neon or primary colours. Where were the understated whites & creams with simple Copperplate fonts on a box of biscuits? You know - sort of Dutchy Originals. I started thinking that I could move there if only to start up a range of products that came in simple, quiet packaging as they would stand out in a quiet little bubble on the shelf amid all the noisy colours.
I left the shop (store) feeling mixed. Not up. Not down. Just kinda blah. As though new products which ordinarily would leave me over excited, just felt meh. Being influenced by the novelty of silly things like foreign foods might have been fine when I was young, free and single. But this was a decision that would change the course of our children's lives completely. I needed more than pepperjack cheese to win me over.
We headed over to another school. A state elementary. It seemed nice, but beset by problems most state schools suffer from - funding. But apparently the PTSA was 'super involved' and 'super active' to ensure that the kids had a 'super nice time' at school. As we were leaving, the lady showing us around said: "Sorry about all the book bags lying on the floor. They belong to the kids at ski school." "Ski school?" we asked. "Yeah," she said. "They finish school early on Wednesdays and some of the kids get taken to the mountains for skiing lessons. It's just a 40 minute drive away."
Skiing as an after school activity. Check. Not something readily available in Berkshire. That went onto the pros column.
We headed south of the I90 to check out a place called Newport Shores, a small suburb of very fancy houses right on the lakeside with little canals in between for more moorage space. This was Wisteria Lane, with kids running in the street, shooting hoops, zooming around on scooters. It was a kids' paradise. And it had it's own yacht club. Another plus.
We drove past another of the secondary schools - amazing sports facilities. Honestly, better than most local English sports clubs have. We stopped in at a mall for some lunch. We sat in a Red Robin, surrounded by high school kids. It was fascinating to watch them. The cool kids. The Asian kids. The nerds. The nerds checking out The Girls. It was exactly like in the movies. Only the kids actually seemed really nice and not too posey, but that was because we were South of the I90 and away from Uber Posh-ville.
So there we were, eating our buffalo chicken wings with bottomless fries and bottomless soda, and we asked each other: "So, what do you think? Should we move here?"
And there it was. The ninety million dollar question. How do weigh all the pros and cons up, when some pros weigh so much more and some cons could break your heart?
We made up a list on the ipad.
Pros:
- a 15 minute commute for my husband vs 1.5 hours each way
- a husband/father who didn't travel abroad for work 80% of the year
- great schools (but scarily big)
- much bigger houses
- beautiful area
- better off financially
- the chance of a better quality of life
- the chance for me to find a new career or something completely different to do
- a grand adventure (those who know me know that I'm always looking for the Next Big Thing)
Cons:
- the weather is no better than England
- it is very, very, very far away from just about everywhere
- leaving behind our friends, what little family we have here and the network I've only just built up. Ripping up those fledgling roots just as they were starting to get a good grip
- the plastic feel to the place - no heart or character
- would life really be different or would my husband still work all the time?
- raising children with a completely different culture to either of ours
- our quality of life right now is pretty good, bar the missing husband/father. There's the chance we could make it worse. Why walk away from a sure thing?
- what the heck would I do for a job?
It was a long discussion. One that seemed to drift around in circles without ever feeling as though we'd really found the perfect answer. We just kept coming back over and over and over again: if we don't move, how could we make it work in the UK? How could my children see more of their father and how could I be a single parent less of the time? And there just isn't an answer to that. Not one that works. And believe me, we have brainstormed them all.
So, four large soda pops and two large baskets of fries later, we decided that on balance the pros outweighed the cons. We should do it.
We pondered our decision as we walked through the Cougar Mountain National Park. The beauty of the place (very Twilight type woods) seemed to reinforce the rightness of moving there. But we slightly questionned it again once we studied the sign at the start of the trail which gave instructions on what to do if you come across a bear or a cougar (do look a cougar in the eyes, but don't look a bear in the eyes - you really don't want to muddle those up).
We then had dinner at another ex-work colleague's house which had the most amazing views over the whole of Seattle, the lakes and Bellevue. It was so jaw-droppingly beautiful that it seemed to reaffirm our thinking.
After another lovely evening with lovely people, we went back to the apartment and actually slept.
We still had a day to go but our decision was mostly made. I just wished that I could silence the niggling rumble of worry in my belly.
Friday, 4 March 2011
Sleepless in Seattle - part 4
Another sleepness night. Jet lag and life changing decisions are a killer combo in the sleep stakes. So day 2 rolled in with a blur. We had to head out to the far side of Bellevue to go see a school. A high school. Our children are nowhere near high school age but we figured we needed to know what was awaiting us down the line.
The school was in a less affluent part of town but the buildings were immaculate and the sports facilities amazing. We met with one of the deputy heads. Apparently the school has 1500 kids (aged 15 - 18) and there are over 60 different first languages spoken by the pupils. It made my mind boggle. Despite the sheer numbers being overwhelming, we left feeling pretty impressed by what we'd seen. For a state school, it looked slick.
We then explored all around Lake Sammamish, the lake on the East side of Bellevue. Although nice, we decided that having one lake between us and the city was enough, so there was no way we'd consider putting two lakes between us in suburbia and life outside the picket fences.
We nipped into another private school for a prospectus (lovely looking school but completely stuck up their own backside reception staff who couldn't have been less pleased to see two prospective parents willing to shell out $60k per year for two kids to attend). So we left and headed for our third school of the day, another private one.
This school turned everything I thought about schooling on its head. For a start, the school building was an old office park. It's curb appeal was low. For a private school charging a LOT of money, where were the beautiful buildings and acres of sports fields? But once inside we began to realise that this was no ordinary school. They teach children in a completely different way. They teach them to think. Not simply to learn, but to question and enquire. We were given a mock science lesson. And both my husband and I sat enthralled as they took as through the content. It made me want to go back to school.
They use tablet PCs for the kids and if a child feels that a teacher is going to fast in class, they send the teacher a private instant message and the teacher knows to recap without the child feeling embarrassed. It's also hands on learning - the kids have built a rock climbing wall, a wormery for all the food scraps, their own black box theatre where they do all their drama productions and they have to build their own canoes. Proper wooden canoes. If they float, they've passed. If they don't, they have a swimming lesson.
Their mission is: think critically, act responsibly, lead compassionately, and innovate wisely. I love that. And it's so current. It teaches and prepares children for today and tomorrow's world.
I left with one thought: I want my kids to go there. Sure they'd have to make the grade (they have to be very bright and have a natural curiousity about the world around them) and we'd have to live on bread and beans to afford it, but wow! It was just such an incredible place.
After leaving that school on a high, we then discovered the suburb of Kirkland which actually had a little downtown area with restaurants and shops and access to the lakeside beaches. And although it was still a bit plastic, it felt more like a proper neighbourhood where you might actually get to meet your neighbours. What's more, it would still only be a 12 minute commute to work for my husband. 12 minutes vs his current 1.5 hours each way (when he's in the country).
And slowly the ticks in the pros columns started lining up.
We ended the day with a couple my husband works with, eating amazing food at their gorgeous house, learning all about what it's really like to live the American way with kids and a job. They seemed so happy and together. And I started to imagine us living in a house like that and it seemed doable.
We collapsed into bed with brains aching from over-stimulation. The see-saw of emotions - could we live here? could we not? - was leaving me feeling a little sick. Or perhaps that was just too much good food and wine. Either way, we had one more full day to make our minds up. Thursday would be decision time.
The school was in a less affluent part of town but the buildings were immaculate and the sports facilities amazing. We met with one of the deputy heads. Apparently the school has 1500 kids (aged 15 - 18) and there are over 60 different first languages spoken by the pupils. It made my mind boggle. Despite the sheer numbers being overwhelming, we left feeling pretty impressed by what we'd seen. For a state school, it looked slick.
We then explored all around Lake Sammamish, the lake on the East side of Bellevue. Although nice, we decided that having one lake between us and the city was enough, so there was no way we'd consider putting two lakes between us in suburbia and life outside the picket fences.
We nipped into another private school for a prospectus (lovely looking school but completely stuck up their own backside reception staff who couldn't have been less pleased to see two prospective parents willing to shell out $60k per year for two kids to attend). So we left and headed for our third school of the day, another private one.
This school turned everything I thought about schooling on its head. For a start, the school building was an old office park. It's curb appeal was low. For a private school charging a LOT of money, where were the beautiful buildings and acres of sports fields? But once inside we began to realise that this was no ordinary school. They teach children in a completely different way. They teach them to think. Not simply to learn, but to question and enquire. We were given a mock science lesson. And both my husband and I sat enthralled as they took as through the content. It made me want to go back to school.
They use tablet PCs for the kids and if a child feels that a teacher is going to fast in class, they send the teacher a private instant message and the teacher knows to recap without the child feeling embarrassed. It's also hands on learning - the kids have built a rock climbing wall, a wormery for all the food scraps, their own black box theatre where they do all their drama productions and they have to build their own canoes. Proper wooden canoes. If they float, they've passed. If they don't, they have a swimming lesson.
Their mission is: think critically, act responsibly, lead compassionately, and innovate wisely. I love that. And it's so current. It teaches and prepares children for today and tomorrow's world.
I left with one thought: I want my kids to go there. Sure they'd have to make the grade (they have to be very bright and have a natural curiousity about the world around them) and we'd have to live on bread and beans to afford it, but wow! It was just such an incredible place.
After leaving that school on a high, we then discovered the suburb of Kirkland which actually had a little downtown area with restaurants and shops and access to the lakeside beaches. And although it was still a bit plastic, it felt more like a proper neighbourhood where you might actually get to meet your neighbours. What's more, it would still only be a 12 minute commute to work for my husband. 12 minutes vs his current 1.5 hours each way (when he's in the country).
And slowly the ticks in the pros columns started lining up.
We ended the day with a couple my husband works with, eating amazing food at their gorgeous house, learning all about what it's really like to live the American way with kids and a job. They seemed so happy and together. And I started to imagine us living in a house like that and it seemed doable.
We collapsed into bed with brains aching from over-stimulation. The see-saw of emotions - could we live here? could we not? - was leaving me feeling a little sick. Or perhaps that was just too much good food and wine. Either way, we had one more full day to make our minds up. Thursday would be decision time.
Monday, 28 February 2011
Sleepless in Seattle - Part 3
As we tried to find our way across the bridge using our delightful, not fully functioning satnav, we got a bit lost. In the process, we managed to see more of the lake, a beautiful park and some really, really dodgy parts of town. The bits you don't want to see ever, much less when you're trying to decide whether to move to a place. So far there were definitely more cons than pros.
We finally found the bridge and headed over Lake Washington, stopping at Mercer Island on the way. This, we had been told, was one of THE spots to live with fab schools and a very nice area. But all we saw was one shopping arcade and suburb after suburb after suburb. We decided to call it quits as we were in dire need of food and figured that there wasn't much more to Mercer Island than lots of houses. Nice houses admittedly, but where do all the people in those houses go when they need to pop out for a pint of milk? There didn't seem to be such a thing as a corner shop or local Chinese take-away. It was simply suburbia....for miles.
We finally entered the promised land of Bellevue. Initial impressions were underwhelming. It was a mini city with sky scrapers and a mall and lots of 'retail parks'. By retail park, I mean the kind of places you'd find on the outskirts of a British town that tend to feature a Homebase, sports shop and possibly a Matalan. You know the feeling that goes along with those places. It's not a shopping pleasure. It's a shopping chore. You're going there with the express purpose of getting something, normally not something you want to buy, but something you need to buy. So it was that feeling which seemed to permeate the place. And I was starting to realise that it was places like these that serve as the corner shop or the hub for an area.
It wasn't helped when we returned to our car, having nipped into a pizza joint for a bite to eat, to discover we had a parking ticket. Apparently we were a 'walk off'. In other words, we'd parked in the retail park but had crossed the road and eaten at the pizza joint facing the car park, rather than going to a shop in the car park. Luckily when we came to pay for this ticket, the man on the telephone found the concept of a British credit card very complicated and he kindly cancelled the ticket. (Incidentally, good pizza.)
We then began exploring the suburbs of Bellevue. Think Desperate Housewives. Think Wisteria Lane. Think perfect houses on perfect streets, with perfect cars parked in front of perfect garages. It was surreal. And strange. Again, no corner shop. No feeling of a suburb/village centre. Do every one of these people hop in their big cars and drive to the mall to get a loaf of bread? Really?
We did see people walking, but where were they walking to? Was there a mystery destination we were yet to find? If there was, we never did find it.
So we drove around confused, simultaneously drooling over the size and marvellousness of the houses, but not quite getting it either. It all just felt a little bit Stepford Wives. There were some suburbs that were particularly gorgeous, with tiny roads winding down to the edge of the lake. I decided that if we were to move there, then it would be one of those houses I would want and covet. But I'd have to sell several of my internal organs to afford one.
After a lot of driving we finally headed back into Bellevue to check out the mall (cool with good shops) and meet a friend for drinks. She had very kindly arranged for several of her friends to join us so that we could pick their brains as to what it is like to live there. There was me (South African), my friend (South African), my husband (British), an Irishman, an Australian and an American who had mostly lived abroad. And there were two local Americans. All there to give us their perspective.
In general the ex-pats seemed to love it, but had a hard time saying why. In short, they said that living in the US was like falling onto a squishy pillow. It's soft and easy and comforting, but not very edgy. They said life was ridiculously easy and incredibly cheap in comparison to the UK (yes, we noticed that when we filled the car and it cost just $30 as opposed to the £70 it normally costs us). And the tax rate was much lower, so financially you're far better off. And there is plenty to do in the area, like skiing and hiking and sailing. All good.
The Americans took their job, of informing us about the place, very seriously. They were lovely and very kind to give us their time and I couldn't fault them. Except that they weren't like the ex-pats. There was less swearing. Fewer hilarious jokes. Just a little more earnestness in general. Which in itself told us a lot. It is a nation of people like these that we'd be moving to. Would we fit in?
Luckily the ex-pats told us that there are a ludicrous number of ex-pats in Seattle thanks to companies like Microsoft and Google. They even play rugby and tend to hang out and tell rude jokes, saying words like twat which apparently Americans equate to the the C word over here. Not that I'd want to move all the way to the far side of the US, just to hang out with a bunch of ex-pats. When in Rome, be Roman and all that. But it was comforting to know that we could get our fix of Britain should we need it.
In all by the end of the night, I was feeling more optimistic. They seemed a very nice bunch - all of them - and they all had good things to say about living there, despite the weather.
There was only one thing I found a bit odd about the evening. The bar we were in had the five girls in our party and possibly another 5 women in the entire place. The rest of the people there were men. Where were the women? All at home being Stepford Wives, getting the casseroles out of the cooker in readiness for the return of the man? Perhaps it was simply the location of the bar being near hotels where business men are likely to be, but it was odd nonetheless.
So by the end of a very, very tiring first day, our conclusion was: net neutral. Not for or against. Just completely undecided. If anything, more in the against column but the evening's banter had pulled it back towards neutral ground.
What followed was a sleepness night in Seattle, a few hours of coma-esque sleep followed by a jet-lag induced 3am wake up call with a waterfall of thoughts cascading through my brain. I was hoping that day 2 would give me more clarity. Because the one place I didn't want to be was sitting on a picket fence....
We finally found the bridge and headed over Lake Washington, stopping at Mercer Island on the way. This, we had been told, was one of THE spots to live with fab schools and a very nice area. But all we saw was one shopping arcade and suburb after suburb after suburb. We decided to call it quits as we were in dire need of food and figured that there wasn't much more to Mercer Island than lots of houses. Nice houses admittedly, but where do all the people in those houses go when they need to pop out for a pint of milk? There didn't seem to be such a thing as a corner shop or local Chinese take-away. It was simply suburbia....for miles.
We finally entered the promised land of Bellevue. Initial impressions were underwhelming. It was a mini city with sky scrapers and a mall and lots of 'retail parks'. By retail park, I mean the kind of places you'd find on the outskirts of a British town that tend to feature a Homebase, sports shop and possibly a Matalan. You know the feeling that goes along with those places. It's not a shopping pleasure. It's a shopping chore. You're going there with the express purpose of getting something, normally not something you want to buy, but something you need to buy. So it was that feeling which seemed to permeate the place. And I was starting to realise that it was places like these that serve as the corner shop or the hub for an area.
It wasn't helped when we returned to our car, having nipped into a pizza joint for a bite to eat, to discover we had a parking ticket. Apparently we were a 'walk off'. In other words, we'd parked in the retail park but had crossed the road and eaten at the pizza joint facing the car park, rather than going to a shop in the car park. Luckily when we came to pay for this ticket, the man on the telephone found the concept of a British credit card very complicated and he kindly cancelled the ticket. (Incidentally, good pizza.)
We then began exploring the suburbs of Bellevue. Think Desperate Housewives. Think Wisteria Lane. Think perfect houses on perfect streets, with perfect cars parked in front of perfect garages. It was surreal. And strange. Again, no corner shop. No feeling of a suburb/village centre. Do every one of these people hop in their big cars and drive to the mall to get a loaf of bread? Really?
We did see people walking, but where were they walking to? Was there a mystery destination we were yet to find? If there was, we never did find it.
So we drove around confused, simultaneously drooling over the size and marvellousness of the houses, but not quite getting it either. It all just felt a little bit Stepford Wives. There were some suburbs that were particularly gorgeous, with tiny roads winding down to the edge of the lake. I decided that if we were to move there, then it would be one of those houses I would want and covet. But I'd have to sell several of my internal organs to afford one.
After a lot of driving we finally headed back into Bellevue to check out the mall (cool with good shops) and meet a friend for drinks. She had very kindly arranged for several of her friends to join us so that we could pick their brains as to what it is like to live there. There was me (South African), my friend (South African), my husband (British), an Irishman, an Australian and an American who had mostly lived abroad. And there were two local Americans. All there to give us their perspective.
In general the ex-pats seemed to love it, but had a hard time saying why. In short, they said that living in the US was like falling onto a squishy pillow. It's soft and easy and comforting, but not very edgy. They said life was ridiculously easy and incredibly cheap in comparison to the UK (yes, we noticed that when we filled the car and it cost just $30 as opposed to the £70 it normally costs us). And the tax rate was much lower, so financially you're far better off. And there is plenty to do in the area, like skiing and hiking and sailing. All good.
The Americans took their job, of informing us about the place, very seriously. They were lovely and very kind to give us their time and I couldn't fault them. Except that they weren't like the ex-pats. There was less swearing. Fewer hilarious jokes. Just a little more earnestness in general. Which in itself told us a lot. It is a nation of people like these that we'd be moving to. Would we fit in?
Luckily the ex-pats told us that there are a ludicrous number of ex-pats in Seattle thanks to companies like Microsoft and Google. They even play rugby and tend to hang out and tell rude jokes, saying words like twat which apparently Americans equate to the the C word over here. Not that I'd want to move all the way to the far side of the US, just to hang out with a bunch of ex-pats. When in Rome, be Roman and all that. But it was comforting to know that we could get our fix of Britain should we need it.
In all by the end of the night, I was feeling more optimistic. They seemed a very nice bunch - all of them - and they all had good things to say about living there, despite the weather.
There was only one thing I found a bit odd about the evening. The bar we were in had the five girls in our party and possibly another 5 women in the entire place. The rest of the people there were men. Where were the women? All at home being Stepford Wives, getting the casseroles out of the cooker in readiness for the return of the man? Perhaps it was simply the location of the bar being near hotels where business men are likely to be, but it was odd nonetheless.
So by the end of a very, very tiring first day, our conclusion was: net neutral. Not for or against. Just completely undecided. If anything, more in the against column but the evening's banter had pulled it back towards neutral ground.
What followed was a sleepness night in Seattle, a few hours of coma-esque sleep followed by a jet-lag induced 3am wake up call with a waterfall of thoughts cascading through my brain. I was hoping that day 2 would give me more clarity. Because the one place I didn't want to be was sitting on a picket fence....
Wednesday, 23 February 2011
Sleepless in Seattle - part 2
We spent the first part of our first day walking around downtown Seattle. As we walked from our apartment to the centre of town, I didn't feel massively excited by what I saw. It was a strange place - a beautiful waterfront blotted out by a double decker freeway. Some really fab looking restaurants followed by run down buildings with strange looking people lurking around outside. I'd read on the in flight magazine on the way over that Seattle was a city of misfits and our first impressions certainly bore this description out.
The Seattle uniform is a cross between grunge, punk and hobo in the young people. For the middle and older generations the look comprised flat shoes (moccasins or trainers) with straight-legged jeans or straighter legged trousers, with tucked in shirt and a parka. Usually made of fleece, with a waterproof outer. Seattle-ites don't carry umbrellas, despite the near constant rain. It's not cool apparently. If I had to sum up the general Seattle population with a very broad brush stroke, I'd say it's Geeky. But then again, it's the home of Microsoft, so go figure.
We found a coffee shop and instantly discovered three marvellous things. 1. Coffee that tasted amazing. I mean seriously amazing. I am not one of those people who likes coffee that's strip-the-plaque-off-your-teeth strong. I am happy with a cup of instant. Honest. But this coffee was just right.
2. As I sat down on the squishy sofa enjoying this wonderful beverage and starting to feel less like a jet-lagged zombie, I fired up my ipad. And yip, instant connection to the free wifi. No 'please pay £5 to enjoy this wifi'. Just turn on and start surfing. 3. Finally, having drunk our coffee and surfed maps of Seattle online, we headed out. But we obeyed the sign that said: 'Please bus your own table.' Now that's not a saying you hear much in the UK. We discovered that there were multiple bins so that everything could be recycled. Well there you go, Seattle is a green city - apparently the second greenest in the USA. That went into the pros column.
We ambled further downtown and started remembering what it was like to live in a city, where you can stroll under high rise buildings, nip into cavernous bookstores and grab a cab whenever you like. And all the shop staff were like the TV presenters, perky and friendly, only less irritating.
Our spirits were definitely on the up. This place was pretty cool.
We got into our hire car and fired up the Hertz NeverLost, the delightful satnav system which we quickly renamed Hertz Never F*ingOn or alternately, Hertz Never Shuts Up. It was temperamental.
We headed over to a posh suburb - Madison Park - we'd been advised to take a look at. The houses were old (as in turn of the century as opposed to the 300 year old cottage we currently live in) and much smaller than the ones I'd seen on the internet, but they had character. And best of all, they all had basketball hoops facing outwards onto the street. I could just picture neighbourhood kids shooting hoops on a quiet cul de sac. It was lovely.
Making our way from there, we stumbled - literally - into one of the top private schools we'd been advised to see. We hadn't managed to get an appointment, but popped in all the same. We were met with more perky friendliness and handed a stack of information including the fees schedule. Weep.
So we left and found the 'village centre' of Madison Park. It was nice. But didn't exactly rock our world. There wasn't much there and it felt slightly lacking in some way that we couldn't quite put our finger on. Nevertheless, we pulled into a Starbucks for another coffee and more free wifi, before deciding to head out across the 520 bridge spanning Lake Washington and into Bellevue, our potential new home.
We were finally going to see the places I'd been studying on Redfin for months, for real. Google streetview and reality were about to collide. This was the big reveal....
The Seattle uniform is a cross between grunge, punk and hobo in the young people. For the middle and older generations the look comprised flat shoes (moccasins or trainers) with straight-legged jeans or straighter legged trousers, with tucked in shirt and a parka. Usually made of fleece, with a waterproof outer. Seattle-ites don't carry umbrellas, despite the near constant rain. It's not cool apparently. If I had to sum up the general Seattle population with a very broad brush stroke, I'd say it's Geeky. But then again, it's the home of Microsoft, so go figure.
We found a coffee shop and instantly discovered three marvellous things. 1. Coffee that tasted amazing. I mean seriously amazing. I am not one of those people who likes coffee that's strip-the-plaque-off-your-teeth strong. I am happy with a cup of instant. Honest. But this coffee was just right.
2. As I sat down on the squishy sofa enjoying this wonderful beverage and starting to feel less like a jet-lagged zombie, I fired up my ipad. And yip, instant connection to the free wifi. No 'please pay £5 to enjoy this wifi'. Just turn on and start surfing. 3. Finally, having drunk our coffee and surfed maps of Seattle online, we headed out. But we obeyed the sign that said: 'Please bus your own table.' Now that's not a saying you hear much in the UK. We discovered that there were multiple bins so that everything could be recycled. Well there you go, Seattle is a green city - apparently the second greenest in the USA. That went into the pros column.
We ambled further downtown and started remembering what it was like to live in a city, where you can stroll under high rise buildings, nip into cavernous bookstores and grab a cab whenever you like. And all the shop staff were like the TV presenters, perky and friendly, only less irritating.
Our spirits were definitely on the up. This place was pretty cool.
We got into our hire car and fired up the Hertz NeverLost, the delightful satnav system which we quickly renamed Hertz Never F*ingOn or alternately, Hertz Never Shuts Up. It was temperamental.
We headed over to a posh suburb - Madison Park - we'd been advised to take a look at. The houses were old (as in turn of the century as opposed to the 300 year old cottage we currently live in) and much smaller than the ones I'd seen on the internet, but they had character. And best of all, they all had basketball hoops facing outwards onto the street. I could just picture neighbourhood kids shooting hoops on a quiet cul de sac. It was lovely.
Making our way from there, we stumbled - literally - into one of the top private schools we'd been advised to see. We hadn't managed to get an appointment, but popped in all the same. We were met with more perky friendliness and handed a stack of information including the fees schedule. Weep.
So we left and found the 'village centre' of Madison Park. It was nice. But didn't exactly rock our world. There wasn't much there and it felt slightly lacking in some way that we couldn't quite put our finger on. Nevertheless, we pulled into a Starbucks for another coffee and more free wifi, before deciding to head out across the 520 bridge spanning Lake Washington and into Bellevue, our potential new home.
We were finally going to see the places I'd been studying on Redfin for months, for real. Google streetview and reality were about to collide. This was the big reveal....
Thursday, 17 February 2011
Sleepless in Seattle - part 1
Right, where to begin. The weekend before last my husband and I abandoned the children to one of the lovely people who I sailed across the ocean with (thanks Blue) and headed off on a plane to Seattle. This was not a holiday. This was a reconnaissance mission to answer the big questions: Could we live there? Could we leave behind all of our friends and the limited family we have here? Could we raise American children? Could we start from scratch all over again?
With these not insignificant questions weighing heavily on our minds, we set off. Luckily we managed to get upgraded to premium economy and then again to business class. So at least we arrived relatively well rested.
A friend of mine had arranged for us to stay at a work colleague's apartment for the duration of our stay as he was out of town. His apartment was right in down town Seattle, two blocks from the famous Space Needle, so it was a great base.
After a restless night - both of us wide awake at 3am - we began our day. This involved turning the TV on. Except it wasn't a TV. It was a media centre and required a PhD in electronics to figure it out. But we got there in the end. And bam! There it was. American TV. Worse than that. Local American news. Let me explain how that works:
The hosts (perfectly coiffed, none of that hardly done UK-style hair) obviously had Starbucks loyalty cards and were on their tenth grande latte of the day. Because they were perky. Very. And crap. Now admittedly it was the day after Superbowl Sunday, so that subject was going to dominate a fair share of the news. But the 'news' stories ran as follows:
- the actual Superbowl result and game
- deep analysis of which superbowl ads were best
- a bit more about which of the ads were best
- a bit about which of the ads were worst
- further deep analysis of which merchandise at the superbowl sold best
- commentary from fans about the superbowl
- commentary from the players/coaches about the superbowl
- the earnings made as a result of the superbowl
- speculation about what next year's superbowl will be like
- a repeat of all of the above
- the fact the US teens are snorting a new drug - bath salts - two mentions
- the funeral of a female police officer who had been shot - brief mention
Now please understand that none of these stories ran consecutively. There would be one of the above items, followed by the weather lady who had obviously had even more caffeine than the hosts. She managed to tell the same day's weather in at least 12 different ways. I particularly liked the way she said that a band of rain was 'scooching its way over the city'. Can you imagine the BBC's Carol Kirkwood saying: 'Well folks, you all are gonna want pack a rain fleece today as we've got a cold front scooching in over Wales.' Probably not.
After manic weather lady, we had even more manic traffic guy who had a very handy dandy map which showed which roads were moving well vs being jammed to a halt. The man spoke about a billion words a minute and felt quite passionate about jams, pleading with the cars in that area to 'sort their stuff out'.
While all of this was going on, there was the normal news ticker running across the bottom only with the addition of a big fat logo (Pepperidge Farm I think it was). Nice. Branded news. The mugs the presenters drank out of were branded too. And if that wasn't enough branding for you, they interrupted the news every 3 minutes for 5 minutes of ads.
Suffice to say that by the time we headed out doors in search of a coffee of our own (and in Seattle you are always sure to find one within three steps), I already had my reservations. It was going to be a long four days....
With these not insignificant questions weighing heavily on our minds, we set off. Luckily we managed to get upgraded to premium economy and then again to business class. So at least we arrived relatively well rested.
A friend of mine had arranged for us to stay at a work colleague's apartment for the duration of our stay as he was out of town. His apartment was right in down town Seattle, two blocks from the famous Space Needle, so it was a great base.
After a restless night - both of us wide awake at 3am - we began our day. This involved turning the TV on. Except it wasn't a TV. It was a media centre and required a PhD in electronics to figure it out. But we got there in the end. And bam! There it was. American TV. Worse than that. Local American news. Let me explain how that works:
The hosts (perfectly coiffed, none of that hardly done UK-style hair) obviously had Starbucks loyalty cards and were on their tenth grande latte of the day. Because they were perky. Very. And crap. Now admittedly it was the day after Superbowl Sunday, so that subject was going to dominate a fair share of the news. But the 'news' stories ran as follows:
- the actual Superbowl result and game
- deep analysis of which superbowl ads were best
- a bit more about which of the ads were best
- a bit about which of the ads were worst
- further deep analysis of which merchandise at the superbowl sold best
- commentary from fans about the superbowl
- commentary from the players/coaches about the superbowl
- the earnings made as a result of the superbowl
- speculation about what next year's superbowl will be like
- a repeat of all of the above
- the fact the US teens are snorting a new drug - bath salts - two mentions
- the funeral of a female police officer who had been shot - brief mention
Now please understand that none of these stories ran consecutively. There would be one of the above items, followed by the weather lady who had obviously had even more caffeine than the hosts. She managed to tell the same day's weather in at least 12 different ways. I particularly liked the way she said that a band of rain was 'scooching its way over the city'. Can you imagine the BBC's Carol Kirkwood saying: 'Well folks, you all are gonna want pack a rain fleece today as we've got a cold front scooching in over Wales.' Probably not.
After manic weather lady, we had even more manic traffic guy who had a very handy dandy map which showed which roads were moving well vs being jammed to a halt. The man spoke about a billion words a minute and felt quite passionate about jams, pleading with the cars in that area to 'sort their stuff out'.
While all of this was going on, there was the normal news ticker running across the bottom only with the addition of a big fat logo (Pepperidge Farm I think it was). Nice. Branded news. The mugs the presenters drank out of were branded too. And if that wasn't enough branding for you, they interrupted the news every 3 minutes for 5 minutes of ads.
Suffice to say that by the time we headed out doors in search of a coffee of our own (and in Seattle you are always sure to find one within three steps), I already had my reservations. It was going to be a long four days....
Friday, 4 February 2011
Off to the USA
I haven't blogged for a while or commented on many people's blogs (sorry about that). Just been a little frenetic trying cram in work while organising this trip to the USA. We're off on Sunday to browse Seattle. Like window shopping, only for a new country to live in. Weird.
We have 3 dinner dates, 1 drinks party, 1 lunch date and 3 school appointments lined up. I would have liked more school appointments but they're all really busy at this time of year with their applications for the next school year. I have a map of the different areas. I have memorised top schools by district. I know the average house price by area. We've had one call with a local mum/business person and one call with an estate agent. I feel sure I should have done more but not sure what.
I have written the List of All Things for the person looking after our children. I almost very nearly organised. Yet I feel sick with the stress of it all.
I am really hoping that we get there and that I either LOVE it or LOATHE it. Anywhere in the middle ground will not help this decision making process.
So here goes nothing. I will report back....
We have 3 dinner dates, 1 drinks party, 1 lunch date and 3 school appointments lined up. I would have liked more school appointments but they're all really busy at this time of year with their applications for the next school year. I have a map of the different areas. I have memorised top schools by district. I know the average house price by area. We've had one call with a local mum/business person and one call with an estate agent. I feel sure I should have done more but not sure what.
I have written the List of All Things for the person looking after our children. I almost very nearly organised. Yet I feel sick with the stress of it all.
I am really hoping that we get there and that I either LOVE it or LOATHE it. Anywhere in the middle ground will not help this decision making process.
So here goes nothing. I will report back....
Friday, 11 July 2008
It looks like rain
It looks like rain.
Now won't that just be jolly.
It looks like rain.
You know I thought it would.
It looks like rain.
I'd better get my brolly.
A short, sharp shower will do the flowers good.
This was a little ditty I learned in primary school. It was part of our elocution lessons so that we could speak in the Queen's English as opposed to sounding like little Souf Efrikens with flat accents. Living in a drought ravaged country - where water restrictions were so strictly enforced that to this day I still ask if anyone would like to share my bath water and only flush if it's vital - rain really did seem like quite a jolly thing.
That was then. Flash forward 25-odd years and quite frankly, I feel that even the flowers are gagging for a bit of sunshine and my brolly has long since given up the ghost. When will it sodding-well end?
The weekend is looming. Husband is going to Seattle....for a week. I shall be left alone with two caged up beasties determined to vent their frustration on my sofas. We cannot possibly bake anything else, which is our normal wet weather programme. I am already the size of baby elephant. My trousers no longer do up and even my boobs are escaping from my C cup bra so that I get that attractive double boob thing under a t-shirt. I don't do crafts. a) I'm not crafty and b) the boys only do the craft activity for about 30 seconds before turning the playroom into a glue/glitter/paint-tastic nightmare. I don't think even more TV is the answer. The track with its various forts is even starting to lose its appeal to the boys, and the throwing of stones in puddles is becoming a listless affair.
I despair. Somebody help me. Please.
Now won't that just be jolly.
It looks like rain.
You know I thought it would.
It looks like rain.
I'd better get my brolly.
A short, sharp shower will do the flowers good.
This was a little ditty I learned in primary school. It was part of our elocution lessons so that we could speak in the Queen's English as opposed to sounding like little Souf Efrikens with flat accents. Living in a drought ravaged country - where water restrictions were so strictly enforced that to this day I still ask if anyone would like to share my bath water and only flush if it's vital - rain really did seem like quite a jolly thing.
That was then. Flash forward 25-odd years and quite frankly, I feel that even the flowers are gagging for a bit of sunshine and my brolly has long since given up the ghost. When will it sodding-well end?
The weekend is looming. Husband is going to Seattle....for a week. I shall be left alone with two caged up beasties determined to vent their frustration on my sofas. We cannot possibly bake anything else, which is our normal wet weather programme. I am already the size of baby elephant. My trousers no longer do up and even my boobs are escaping from my C cup bra so that I get that attractive double boob thing under a t-shirt. I don't do crafts. a) I'm not crafty and b) the boys only do the craft activity for about 30 seconds before turning the playroom into a glue/glitter/paint-tastic nightmare. I don't think even more TV is the answer. The track with its various forts is even starting to lose its appeal to the boys, and the throwing of stones in puddles is becoming a listless affair.
I despair. Somebody help me. Please.
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