Quandaries

The UK is very similar to South Africa (or should I say that South Africa is similar to the UK) in so many ways making the adjustment to moving to a new country decidedly easier. There is one thing that has confounded me since the minute I arrived though. As you know, in the UK (as in SA), people drive on the left. In a number of the subways and passages in the labyrinth of the tubes signs, stipulate that you should stick to the left when walking to make rush hour more orderly.

Why then are all the escalators going down on the right and why do all the slow people stand on the right and let the faster people pass on the left. There are even signs requesting slower people to pass on the left. This defies logic. Don't they know? Bly links, ry regs verby. I've really given it a lot of thought. J suggested that maybe it was because pedestrians are supposed to walk into the oncoming traffic ie. on the right. This is a good point but doesn't hold because the elevator situation is the same here as in the States and they drive on the right.

The only feasible option I have been able to come up with is that the escalators were designed by someone from a country that drives on the right and the oversight was only picked up after it was too late. Isn't that what happened on Hospital Bend? A Dutch (I think) civil engineer was involved in the design phase which is way the onramps to and from town both come onto the fast lines.

I decided to sms my question to 6XX6. The service that claims that they answer any question you could want but then didn't respond when we asked them whether it was safe to camp on a cliff in the Isle of Wight. We suspect it was because of a liability issue. I'll keep you posted with the answer.

Other London highlights

1. Punting down the Thames in a smart dress in Oxford (and not falling in!)
2. Being the only one getting asked for ID at the Merton Bar in Oxford
2. Meeting friends for a quick drink and finding ourselves less than an hour later watching the Dave Matthews Band
3. Going camping in the Isle of Wight for the bank holiday weekend and surviving the massive storm that blew in on the Saturday night. At least we know our tent is waterproof for Glastonbury!
4. Meeting Zackie Achmat (and a Dutch princess)
5. The Lock Tavern in Camden

Eternal sunshine

I think summer is officially on it's way. I don't want to get too excited because everytime I do a cold spell descends. None-the-less, its definitely coming. What amuses me the most is the way people here react to a splash of sunshine. Everyone heads to the park, pulls off their tops and arranges themselves in such a way as to soak up the maximum amount of vitamin D possible. Even the ladies on their lunch breaks whip off their blouses and tan in their bras!

I don't want to rip people off too much because that could be me soon. Before I know it I'm going to be exclaiming "Oh isn't it hot" when it's a mere 18'C.

Sirens

If the symbol of London is the red telephone box then the sound is the siren. Every time you walk along a road either an ambulance or police car will come zooming past you with sirens blaring. You never really know if they are off to an emergency or trying to get back in time for their lunch break. Either way it's pretty annoying. Especially in our area where it emerges there are 3 hospitals and a police station in a 500m radius. Great for emergencies but not so cool for late morning lie-ins.

Egyptian Cotton

A couple of Christmases my folks gave me an awesome Egyptian cotton duvet and pillow set. There was no better feeling than climbing under the freshly ironed duvet and resting my head on the crisp, cool pillow.

Until I had to iron it myself that is.

Egyptian cotton it turns out is VERY high maintenance and drys all wrinkled no matter how you hang it. "How hard can it be to iron a duver cover?" I thought to myself. Good thing I was unemployed because an HOUR AND A HALF later I was still ironing the frikkin' thing. Just when I thought I was nearly done I would pull the cover around and expose an entire area that I hadn't even seen. No wonder everyone in this country buys fabrics that you don't have to iron!

Something tells me this might be one of the last times I sleep in ironed bedding.

Squatters

Yesterday was an absolutely ba-yoootiful day. There was not a cloud in the sky and it must have been at least 26'C. I whipped on the most summery outfit I had and literally skipped up the street. And then it descended. Hundreds and thousands of cubic meters of of pollen invisibly yet insidiously crept up my nose and into my throat and set up camp. I suffer from hayfever but this was a whole new level. Within minutes my eyes had become slits and the back of my throat was sore from sneezing.

Apparently hayfever sufferers have a particularly hard time in London because they have to deal with a combination of pollen and the city pollution.

Bring on the non-drowsy anti-hestamines.

I'm a nut

I have to say that I am going a bit mad here at home. I'm not sure how well I could work from home in the long run. Every day everyone goes to work and I look for jobs. I send emails, I phone people, I look through recruitment sites with only the workers redoing the stairwell of our block of flats and my other personalities for company.

The other day I actually phoned myself. A recruiter emailed me and said that she wasn't able to get through to my mobile. To check, I rang my cell phone from the land line. As my cell phone started ringing I quickly got off the landline in order to answer my cell phone! It reminds me of the chorus of a song we used to sing at school.

CHORUS
I'm a nut, I'm a nut,
I'm a nut, I'm a nut, I'm a nut.
Called myself on the telephone
Just to see if I was home.

Mind the Gap

Today we were getting onto the tube and someone fell through the gap. The gap between the platform and the train is very small but suddenly it became clear why the automated lady monotonously tells you to "please mind the gap" at every station. I don't think this is a very frequent occurance. I was with Alaistair and Brian at the time. Alaistair has been in the UK for nearly 8 years and he says he has never seen anything like it.

The poor girl was obviously far too engrossed in talking to her friend and literally stepped into the space between the train and the gap. She didn't fall all the way through but far enough in that she lost one of her very lovely shoes. You can imagine how mortified she was as she hobbled to a chair with one high heel and one bare foot. I was all keen to fetch it for her until I was told that the railway lines are electrified. Note for the future.

Money, money, money

London with the GBP is obviously quite a bit more expensive than at home. What I am struggling to get to grips with though, is the equivalent prices.

eg. 1 block of cheddar = 1.5 blocks of brie = 6 hangers = 1 coke = 1 tube trip within zone 1 and 2 = 1 hour at an internet cafe = 1/3 of a glass of wine at the pub = 2 tape measures = 1/2 punnet of beans = 1 avo = 4 tomatoes = 1 mielie

So the morale of the story is become a tee-totaller, cut fruit and veg out of your diet and wile away your weekends buying hangers and tape measures.

Traffic

Pedestrians are not king in London. You cross the road and even a pedestrian crossing with aprehension and an enormous awareness of the oncoming traffic. A far cry from Vancouver where if you as so much as point your toe in the general direction of the road all the cars come to a grinding halt.

You really can walk everywhere in London but there are things that you have to consider that wouldn't even cross your mind back home eg. do I want 1 or 2 litres of milk, keeping in mind that I have to carry it home and still have a couple of other things to do on the way home?

Louise goes to Ireland

I decided to take advantage of my unemployed mobility and head over for a bit of a road trip with Dave and Lee Lee in Ireland. I fell into the new Londoner trap of thinking that Stanstead airport, London is actually anywhere remotely close to London. It suddenly became quite clear to me why the 6.30am flight was so incredibly affordable - because I had to wake up at 3am to get there on time! Luckily the Stanstead express bus stops just round the corner from our house so it wasn't too bad but it was still a REALLY early morning.

The airport itself was a bit overwhelming at 5.30am. It was a bank holiday weekend so it was packed, particularly with Hen and Stag parties. I knew this because of the matching outfits they all insisted on wearing. The amount of groups I passed on the way to my gate wearing matching pink antenae or tight tees with "Lucy's hen weekend" or some equivalent splashed across the front was ridiculous.

Dublin itself is very cool. When I arrived it hadn't rained for a full 10 days and everyone was getting very concerned about a possible drought! I was loving the sun though. We of course headed straight to the Guiness Brewery where we were treated to the most amazing 360' views of the city and I confirmed that I really don't like the taste of Guiness. Lee lee, Dara and Dave treated me to a true Irish welcome. Check it out: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sg8sMM1VJVg. Lee lee even got dressed as a Leeannprechaun for the occasion.

We went out to "Howl at the Moon" on the first night and I was a bit taken aback when quite a number of people asked if I had any crack. I was just beginning to think that I obviously looked like an Irish drug dealer when it was cleared up for me. 'Craic' is Irish for fun or good times, much like 'jol' in Afrikaans I think. So when someone says "Have you any craic?" , they are not asking if you have any drugs but rather if you are having fun. You could also say "the craic is mighty" or "was it good craic?". "Are we going to have a craic?" Is not correct, I discovered after trying to be clever and introduce myself to someone.

Our road trip took as to the seaside in Tramore where I almost swam but didn't and for a night in a castle in Kilkenny. Folksroth Castle was huge, old and riddled with ghosts according to the dubious claims of one of its semi-permaent guests. In Kilkenny we also went to an amazing old round tower which was built in 849. It's over 100 feet tall and has a mere 2 feet foundation. The countryside of Ireland is really beautiful. Most of the time, I felt like I was off on an adventure with the Famous Five driving down all the country lanes and between the impressive hedges.

Louise goes to London (and Dublin, a little)

So I´m safely in London. I say "I" because Brian was unavoidably detained due to some last minute issues with his visa and will only be joining me on Wednesday. There was a moment of panic when we weren´t sure how long it was going to take but it all seems to be in order now.

The more trips we go on, the more I realise the limitations of the ¨Green Mamba¨ aka the South African passport. Everywhere we go, our friends with EU and other non-South African passports blithely stroll through passport control whilst we have to start sweating about a month beforehand getting all the necessary documentation together for whichever, inevitably ridiculously expensive visa we need. It doesn´t help that my brother has an Irish passport and I am not eligible for one.

In my opinion the next "Amazing Race" should be set in South Africa. Each contestant will be provided with a South African passport and access to certain documentation and then told to go and get a Schengan, Canadian and American visa. I would be willing to bet that none of them would be able to accomplish that in less than ten days.

Leaving SA was rather sad but luckily I didn´t have too much time to think about it as I was madly trying to sell my car, wrap up everything at work, see everyone before we left and do all the last minute admin that always seems to be far more time consuming than you originallly expect. Our farewell was awesome and the touch of Britannia theme helped us to acclimatise. We were obviously all on the same wave length because there was a tea cup, a tea pot and a queen!

I´m quite proud that I managed to get to London safe and sound without losing anything - you may recall my almost phone loss on the way to Chicago and the almost passport, credit card and forex loss two years ago. I did have a bit of a panic when I realised that I´d left my camera at the internet cafe and rushed back to get it only to find it wasn´t there. It ended up being a false alarm as it was still sitting ¨safely¨ at the bottom of my bag.

Our house is amazingly situated and is literally AT the Edgeware Road tube station ie. 20m away which makes travelling around a breeze. It´s a big old flat with high ceilings and more than enough room for Marissa, Jus, Mems, Brian and myself. Our house is also
* a 5 minute walk from Hyde Park
* a 7 minute walk from Oxford Street
* a 10 minute walk from Regent´s Park
* around the corner from a pub called the Green Man (for if we are feeling homesick although it is a good deal smarter than its South African equivalent)
* 50m from Marks & Spencers
* 150m from Tescos
* 250m from the second story of the building where Alexander Flemming discovered Penicillin in 1928 (according to the plaque)

The job search is going somewhat slower than I expected. The weather has being playing along nicely for all my missioning around with sunny skies and only a slightly chilly wind. My first priority was setting up a bank account and getting a cell phone (my new number is +447872167544 by the way). Setting up a bank account was infuriating as only bank bureaucracy can be. I didn´t have proof of my address in London so then had to prove my residential (not postal) address in SA. Now all my post got sent to my PO Box at work or emailed to me so I didn´t actually have anything sent to my residential address. Luckily after much searching I managed to find the little address slip that they put inside your ID. Although decidedly outdated, it seemed to do the trick. The irony of the whole thing is that I actually have a bank account at this bank already but apparently that doesn´t count as a proof of address- just smile and nod!

Then I had to go and find bedding and other essentials. My wanderings took me into Debenhams and when they announced over the loudspeaker that there were free giveaways on the fourth floor in the kitchen department I couldn´t resist. It turned out they were giving away free garnish knives with which you could make watermelon baskets and kiwi flowers. ¨Free¨ as in ¨free if you sit through this demonstration of our new and amazing, all-purpose vegetable cutter¨. I figured I was unemployed so I may as well sit through it. The sales guy completely enthralled me. He didn´t stop speaking for the entire demonstration and was so convincing that I almost bought the veggie cutter (it was a special price just for us you see). Luckily common sense and my unemployed liquidity prevailed. The whole experience ended rather messily that night when I gouged a huge whole in my hand whilst trying to impress the girls with an apple flower made with the surprisingly sharp garnish knife.

In regard to working in my chosen field, it turns out that 50% of the working population of London want to get into the area of Social Development/Corporate Social Investment. I´m gradually making progress but by the looks of things I might be unemployed for at least another few weeks.

I decided to take advantage of my unemployed status and pop over to see Dave and Lee Lee for the bank holiday weekend. I'm actually in Dublin at the moment but I´ll save those stories to regale you with next week.

Home, Sweet Home

I suspect that my feet swelled on the plane. My work shoes are hurting me almost as much as the slightly too small snowboots I rented on the one day did. They were more uncomfortable than the most uncomfortable stilettos I have ever worn. You see I have broad feet. I blame my mum’s side of the family – my uncle, my cousin, my mum, my gran and my youngest brother all share the same ridiculously broad feet. The problem is that the heel is still narrow (picture a flipper) so when it comes to shoes such as snowboard boots where your heel should not move you have to strap them so tightly you cut off the blood in the top of your foot in order to ensure that they fit.

Every time I go on holiday I vow and declare that I am not going to go straight from the airport to the office but then closer to the time everyday of leave seems so precious and who in their right mind would chose a day chilling at home over another day of snowboarding? I’ve been at work for a matter of hours and I am already regretting that decision. Jet lag, it is clear, is far worse going east than west. Perhaps it was because I had 2 and a half weeks of holiday to look forward to on the way there so I didn’t notice but it is only 12pm and I am already seeing squint.

Whistler

Whistler is every bit the picturesque ski town you imagine it to be with its wooden houses and snow laden pine trees. It’s even got the stereotypical Mounties dotted aboot. (I practised saying aboot instead of about for about two months before going to Canada. Interestingly I have yet to hear a Canadian say aboot. Apparently it is a Quebecois thing).

Our two weeks in Whistler were awesome. Everyone gradually trickled in until the full complement of 21 of us were there. We had great conditions with lots of snow bar our second day which was incredibly icy and during which most of us sustained our minor injuries. You are reminded of muscles you never even realised you had when you ski. If you had walked into our house on the second morning you would be forgiven for thinking you'd walked into an old age home by the way we were all hobbling aboot and dramatically clutching our backs. But a couple of hours spent in the hot tub every evening did wonders for our aching bodies and if that failed we could always stretch our limbs out on the dance floor later.

For a group of 21 people we emerged after 2 weeks miraculously unscathed aside from the usual aches and pains of using muscles we didn’t know existed. There were a couple of close calls though:

• Brian: Large bump resembling tail on tailbone
• Liv: Bruised shins after a day of skiing in boots 2 sizes too big and not done up properly
• Mads: Bruise the size (and curiously the shape) of Alaska on ass
• Louise: Left knee swelled to 3 times the normal size after a hard day boarding but nothing a little RICE (rest, ice, compression and elevation, hot tub and Myprodol couldn’t sort out)
• Paul and Lou: Tongues emerged unscathed after licking the chair lift Dumb and Dumber style to see if tongues would stick
• Volpe: Danger of suffocation from the classic Scarface face plant into the powder
• Jimmy: Bruised back from a number of scorpion falls – falling face forward so hard that you hit your back with your board
• Simon and Al: Bruised image for their practical but incredibly eighties full ski suits with braces and zips on the ass
• Lee-Lee – Panic attack on the slopes and crying three times before getting to the bottom
• Frikker – Bruised ego for taking 2 hours to get home on the cat track and still having to take the bus
• Shacks and Paul – Dented reputation for renting hard-core American
• Paul B - Sore stomach from laughing so hard at Rob hanging from a tree branch over a precipice after an over ambitious jump and doing nothing to help
• Al - The worst smelly feet in history
• John – Almost dented head from irish jigging in the Dublin bar so vigourously that he almost caused a fight
• Big Air Robair - For suffering from near exhaustion after never going to sleep EVER
• Nic – 48 hours of severe Mexican Wrap induced gastro
• Lucy –For not being an ambiturner
• Carl - For treating us all to his regular flatulence
• Dave – For suffering from excacerbated Gold Fish syndrome
• Nic - Damaged reputation as a result of his pink board
• Dave and Brian - Damaged pride after incorrectly predicting that Joey and Dawson get together
• Mims - Being diagnosed with pneaumonia on her arrival back in SA
• Everyone except Liv - Emptier pockets from her cleaning us out at Poker TWICE

Quotes of the holiday:

• Queen or Beaver?
• Mayhaps not too far enough enough
• When I was in Winterpark
• Has anyone seen my mojo?
• I have an elegant proof that is too long to fit in this margin
• Gnar, gnar, gnar
• Living the dream
• I’m not that parfait with the system
• Piyew, PIYEW, piyew

Vancouver

Raindrops kept falling on our heads in Vancouver and on and on. In fact it did not stop raining for the entire three days we were there on our way to Whistler. It made sightseeing a little difficult but it didn’t stop the coming together of old friends and gave everyone took the opportunity to purchase some top of the range equipment. I realised that the enjoyment of shopping is relative to what is being shopped for when we had to spend 6 hours snowboard and gear shopping. I took refuge underneath a rack of jackets while the boys just shopped and shopped.

We stayed in my spuncle's place just outside of Vancouver. He kindly lent us his A-team van for the trip which I adored and wanted to bring back to SA with me. Many a happy hour was spent pimping round Vancouver with tinted windows and tall tales. Driving on the right hand side of the road wasn’t too bad but became increasingly tricky when there were no cars on the road to get your bearings which I discovered when I went from left to right around a traffic circle.

We spent two more days in Vanc on the way out in which the sun made an appearance and made the newly washed city quite beautiful.

London town

A ten hour layover in London split our two 11 hour flights on the way into Canada. We decided to take the opportunity to go and check out our future abode and have lunch with Marissa and Justine. We walked out of the Edgeware Road tube station and RIGHT in front of us was our building. It brought a whole new meaning to the concept of centrality although the noise factor will still need to be established. The weather was disarmingly gorgeous and we spent the rest of the day wandering around Hyde Park.

There are many ways to kill a rat

Yesterday I walked into the kitchen just in time to see a rat scurrying into a little hole at the bottom of the cupboard. I hate rats. I've hated them since I was 5 and I had a story teller book and tape about the Pied Piper of Hamlin. The pictures were dark and frightening and the storyteller had a goosebump inspiring voice when he spoke about the rats coming into the kitchens at night and their tails "trailing through the butter". There is no doubt we have to get rid of it but the question is how. All of the ways I can think of are fraught with disadvantages:

1. Rattex (also the name of my brother's pet rat which I loathed): At first glance, Rattex seems to be the least messy option especially if you go by the advice of the handyman that used to attend to my digs in Rhodes. He told me that Rattex causes the rat to dehydrate and so it goes outside to look for water and dies outside. I don't know if he was trying to sugar coat the whole experience for me but I found out last night that Rattex causes the rat to internally bleed to death for up to two days. Often it doesn't make it outside as was the case with a friend of mine who eventually traced a curious stench in his house to his roof where one of the afore mentioned rats lay gently rotting
2. Traditional mouse trap: The traditional mouse trap is also an option but it sometimes doesn't kill the rat in which case you have to do it yourself when you come upon it before you've even had a chance to have your morning tea. And then you still have to pick it up and throw it away SHUDDER
3. The new "more humane" glue trap: These days you can get a trap that is covered in glue. When the rat walks over it becomes stuck fast but it doesn't hurt it. I'm not convinced that this is more humane. In digs last year to get rid of a similar problem, Rob used this trap. He came in in the morning to find a rat that had been struggling to unstick itself the whole night but was still alive. He then had to kill it. I know that I couldn't do that.
4. Doing nothing: The last option is to convince yourself that if you don't do anything it might go away by itself. That's all good and well but then you never know if there are tracing of rat dropping on your kitchen counters or whether you're going to feel something small and furry scuttle over your feet at any time.
   

And then what if there are more than 1? Are rats solitary animals or do they hang out in packs? Do you set a number of traps? Do you reuse them each night?

Someone help!

Poker face

This weekend, B and I went away with a whole lot of his work mates to this awesome game farm about 60 kms past Rustenburg. It always amazes me how good you feel after going away and getting out of the freneticism of Joeys. On Saturday night we decided to play a bit of poker, Texas Hold 'em style. I've never really been a big fan of poker or to be honest really played it properly.

Let's just say that now I'm converted. The rush of your first win gives you an inkling of how people can get addicted to gambling. We played for hours. A bush fire loomed ominously on the horizon and panicked everyone else but did not deter us from our game. At 2am in the morning it was just 3 of the original 10 players remaining. I felt like I should have been wearing a green visor. The game ended in a couple of rash "all in" rounds as we started getting tired. Next time I'm playing for money.

Home sweet home

I'm back after an exhausting 36 hours of travelling armed with a good supply of Twizzlers and very glad to see the summer sunshine. My jet lag doesn't seem to be too bad although I have been wide awake since 4am - bright eyed and bushy tailed. I expect it to hit me in the next couple of hours.

Section 1

Religiously litigious

Last night we made our way to the much talked about Cadillac Ranch (or more accurately "The Place We Cannot Name"). Cadillac Ranch is a large and rather cheesy bar with Thursday night Karaoke that I suspect the guests of the Q centre have been keeping in business for the last eight years. Faculty (me) are not allowed to talk about it or encourage participants to attend because this country is so ridiculously litigious.

The Q centre and Accenture cannot have any affiliation with the Cadillac Ranch for fear that someone may come to some harm there and then blame them. We are not allowed to refer to it by name hence we call it "the place we cannot name". I went and asked about the transportation to get there at reception. They had obviously received the same memo and were even more guarded. "Hmmm.... we don't have anything to do with it but I believe there is a private bus company that takes people there in the evenings". As if they haven't noticed the school buses (brought by an enterprising St Charles resident) that have been ferrying the majority of their guests to and from Cadillac Ranch every Thursday without fail for the last 5 years.

I had to hold back on the Karaoke because when I was here two years ago I lost my voice for ten days from an obviously overzealous singing session. I managed to get in a song or two though. Our section (the guys we taught) sang "You've lost that loving feeling" from Top Gun. The Karaoke guy announced it the best song he had heard all evening which is not saying very much considering some of the other more cringe-worthy numbers but an accolade none the less.

Nature calls

It amazes me how human nature spans both creed and culture. In my class I have people harking from as far as Moscow and yet everyone falls neatly into the stereotypical team roles: the natural leader, the facilitator, the (inevitably hungover) space cadet, the shy, but intelligent non-contributor and by far the most irritating when you are trying to teach, the smart alec.

Superbowl Sunday

On Saturday after class we all missioned through to Chicago in a couple of limos - it's very bizarre but it's actually cheaper to travel by limo than mini van. We almost froze on our way to a dinner of Chicago's signature dish, deep dish pizza. Deep dish pizza is pizza that is made in an enormous pie dish with a layer of cheese about 3 centimetres thick and topped with tomato paste. It's worth trying but incredibly rich. We went from there to Enclave, one of Chicago's most happening spots of the moment at which one of the analysts had organised us access and our own bar for a nominal amount. Good times.

Sunday dawned bright and clear and although it didn't seem possible even colder. After a precursory stroll down the Magnificent Mile of Michigan Mile and a trip to the 99th floor of the Hancock Tower to take in the breathtaking views we headed to the ESPN zone (filming site of the famous Superbowl shuffle of '85 and from which ESPN radio was broadcasting) for the much publicised Superbowl between the Chicago Bears and the Indianopolis Colts. Bizarrely enough this is actually my third Superbowl although the first time that I have been in the home town of one of the competing teams. Almost every single person was saw was decked out in the orange and blue colours of the Bears. The response of the crowd when the Bears scored (or is it made?) a touch down in the first 5 minutes was awe-inspiring and entirely deafening. Unfortunately for us the performance of the Bears rapidly declined from there and the Colts emerged victorious.

What I learnt in Chicago:

1. Wear a hat to prevent freezing


2. If you wear a hat to prevent freezing, don't take it off in public at any time because you will have VERY BAD HAT HAIR.

Baby it's cold outside

We're off to Chicago this weekend for a spot of sight seeing and to catch the Super Bowl. I heard it was cold but I was very comfortable in my little bubble of oblivion until I converted the temperature from Fahrenheit to Celcius. Check this out:
YIKES - and that is without the wind chill factor off the lake!

A tribute to teachers

A week into teaching the course I would like to take my hat off to teachers everywhere. Teaching is one of the most exhausting and draining things I have ever had to do. The entire day you have to be engaged and a step ahead of the class. You are the one that has to draw them out of their sleep deprived stupours by trying to make the module of the moment vaguely interesting when all you want to do is go to sleep yourself. Have you ever tried to wake up people whilst simultaneosly telling them about packaged software configuration? Let's just say I've had to get VERY creative. At 6 or 7 you grab a bite to eat and then retire to prepare your course work for the next day. The first opportunity to switch off is at 9 or 10 at night!

So much for my dreams of reliving my analyst school heydays.

WOOHooOOO. What an adrenaline rush! I've sky-dived and bungy jumped but I have to say that presenting in front of 150 people with your face broadcast pore-noticingly close on the screen and your voice booming over the mic that is attached to your lapel is nearly as exhilirating. I opted out of opening up with a joke which I'm sure most of you will agree was a good move on my part with my tendency to fluff my punch lines. Instead I did a quick IQ test - I learnt it years ago but it never fails to get a laugh.

THE IQ TEST
Basically you get a volunteer and demonstrate to them how you press a coin to your forehead and test your intelligence by trying to knock it off by hitting the back of you head. When you demonstrate, the coin sticks to your own head for about four or five klaps. Then you press the coin to the volunteers head. Press it really hard to "make it stick" and so that when you remove your hand (and the coin with it) the volunteer thinks that the coin is still there and proceeds to try and hit it off. Again. And again. And again. Until they twig that the coin is no longer on their forehead or when you show them. The audience loved it.

Training day

Today was our first day of training. It went quite well except that I managed to spill Pepsi (this is a Pepsi only establishment) all down the front of my cream corduroy skirt within about the first five minutes of the day. Beautiful. You would think I would learn.

I am completely pooped. I never realised that teaching was so exhausting. To make matters worse I just found out that I have to do an hour long presentation to all 150 students first thing tomorrow morning! It's a little intimidating because there are four massive screens across the length of the room onto which they project a close up of your face while you are presenting. Must go to bed now and get my beauty sleep so that I look presentable.

Bowling for good times

This evening all of the faculty went bowling and then for drinks afterwards. I managed to get a strike right in the beginning but unlike everybody else who improved I just seemed to get progressively worse as the evening wore on. At one point I think my finger got caught in the ball as I was hurling it up the alley - it launched into the air and landed with such a resounding thud that I was convinced I had broken the surface of the bowling alley.

After that we went for drinks in the humming nightlife of down town St. Charles which was cool except for the fact that Kippy over here swapped bags just before she went out and arrived at the bar only to realise that she had left her passport (and only form of ID) in her other bag at the Q centre. For those of you that don't know, in the States everyone has to show some form of ID when they go into a drinking establishment - it doesn't matter if you walk in with a blue rinse and a Zimmer frame, you still have to show that you are over 21. Luckily for me the owner intervened. "No she's definitely over 21!" he exclaimed. I felt a little insulted I have to admit but mostly just relieved that he let me in.

Minority reports

I am one of only three females in our group of sixteen faculty. The numbers have dropped significantly since I was at analyst school 2 years ago when it was two guys to every girl. It is still better than Moira Cameron, 42, from Argyll in Scotland who is the Tower of London's first (and only) female beefeater.

Hmmm..... I wonder if they allow vegetarians to be beefeaters?

Lost in translation

It never occurred to me as a first language English speaker that I might have a problem with people understanding me. Let's just say that I have been getting a lot of blank looks lately. I experienced this a little in India, especially over the phone, but then I had Chanda to act as translator for me. The US accent is if nothing else at all times audible and clear. Unlike the South African accent, it is always clear when an American is reaching the end of the sentence because of the consistent inflection. It doesn't help that the more excited I get the faster I speak!

Yesterday we were going through a few ideas for energisers we can use in our section room to up the energy levels in the class when the participants are beginning to flag. One of them is a very basic but quite fun game called "all my neighbours". It's a little bit like Red Rover. Basically, everyone stands on a place holder in a circle with one person in the middle. The middle person makes a statement that is more than likely common amongst the group eg. "All my neighbours that have been to New York". At this, everyone who has been to New York has to leave their place and run to a new place holder. The slowest person gets stuck in the middle and so the game begins again. I got stuck in the middle quite a few times. Do you know that there are only 2 people in our group of 16 that have milked a cow?

So then it was my turn in the middle. At a loss I called "all my neighbours that have worn mascara" and prepared to run. No one moved. Complete blank looks. It is at times like this that I look to the Europeans who are more familiar with the British accent to bridge the gap. I repeated it again and looked at the Europeans in my team beseechingly. German, Danish, Spanish, French, Hungarian, Romanians and Americans alike remained rooted to the spot. Not one of them understood me. Chanda...... come back.

What I should have said it emerged is "All my neighbours that have used (not worn) mascara (pronounce mass[as in weight]-cah[as in Camobodia]-rah[as in Rambo])

It reminded me of when I worked in Winterpark, Colorado as a waitress (server) and had to offer people the tomayto and bayzil soup because they didn't understand me when I offered them the tomato and basil soup.

You live and learn.

The rules of engagement

This week we are doing prep in anticipation of the next two weeks of teaching. One of the things that we have been delving into in quite a bit of depth is facilitation. If you thought that it was just a case of standing up in front of a group and talking you were WRONG. There is way more to it than that. What follows is just a small selection of the tips, tricks and things to keep your audience engaged and participating:

• Use humour to keep people engaged. Try to keep it at your own expense to avoid offending anyone. ALSO, unless you are a really good joke telller don't try and be a stand up comedian. I console myself that it's ok if noone gets my quips. People will generally laugh if you are cracking yourself up, even if they are laughing at and not with you.
• Try to be encouraging at all times. Instead of saying "Mary, have you not been LISTENING? We've just been talking about this for the last ten minutes?" rather say "Thanks for your question Mary. I think it highlights just how difficult the previous topic can be to grasp." Our facilitators are awe-inspiringly polite and patience. They just never seem to lost their cool.
• Be confident. Studies have shown that confidence and not ability convince people that you know what you're talking about.
• Know your tell. Like poker, in public speaking, people often have a "tell" that gives away that they are nervous like speeding up or tailing off their sentences.
• Vary your tone and volume.
• Work the room - apparently there's no better way to bring a delinquint back into the discussion then to subtley go and stand behind them and present from there for a while.
• Take your cue from the editorial yawn. Read your audience. If they are losing focus, take a break or do an energiser or something. Also recognise that there are high and low energy times during the day. Straight after lunch is a notorious low energy period when everyone's blood is rushing from their brain to their stomach and it's time for a siesta.
• If your audience is being non-participative employ the 7 second rule. Ask a question and then be absolutely quiet. Guaranteed, someone will crack under the pressure of the silence by the time you get to seven seconds.
• Unless you are using it, put the pen/white board marker/ruler down. You are not conducting the audience. You are speaking to them.
• Get the right speed. Whilst you don't want to bbbboooorrreeee yyyyoooouuuurrrr aaauuudddddiiieeennnccceeee to sleep, you also don't want them to mss th pnt either.
• Avoid being patronising and treating people like they are in primary school. Going up to someone and slamming their laptop closed because they are checking their email may not be the best way to deal with a situation.
• Try and get everyone to participate. Coax the quiet people to contribute too.
• Oh ja. And don't try and picture your audience naked. Not only is it distracting for you but it can also be a little creepy - "Is she undressing me with her eyes?"

Jet lag

I think I've managed to kick my jet lag. I've wised up you see. On Friday, Saturday and Sunday nights I wouldn't let myself go to bed before 11 despite almost being asleep on my feet. The problem now is that I seem to have developed a kind of eating jet lag instead. I find myself getting hungry at the oddest times. At first when I realised I wasn't hungry at meal times I got all excited because I thought that maybe I had finally developed the small appetite I have always dreamed of but alas, this was not the case. Instead I find myself waking up at the oddest hours completely starving.

The variety of food here is amazing. Anything your heart desires is available from sushi to spaghetti, if you want it, it's there. Luckily, although it all looks good it's not always that tasty. My personal favourite and the one thing that never fails is the help-yourself soft serve ice cream machine with sugar cones and any topping you can imagine. I'm going to have to ration myself on that one.

I want to be a part of it, NEW YORK, NEW YORK

I arrived in NYC after a 2 hour delay refuelling in Dakar, airsick person sitting next to me on the plane and a 45 minute wait for my bag. Ruing my decision not to buy the Accessorise hat and gloves, I took the airtrain to Jamaica station where the climate couldn’t have been further from Jamaican.


New York is truly a mengelmoes of cultures and there is no better place to observe this than on the train where you have a complete cross-section of society. You hear more foreign languages spoken than you do English. If you are thinking of moving over and looking for a business opportunity I would recommend nail decorations. Every third women on the train had long manicured nails with all kinds of funky patterns adorning them.

Eventually I made my way to Stu’s very nicely situated east Manhattan apartment. After a quick freshen up we headed off for a visit to Ellis Island (sans hat and gloves), the famous first point of destination for immigrants between the early 19th to 20th centuries. I have lived in -20’C temperatures in Colorado for 2 months but I think I can unequivocally say that I have NEVER experienced such cold. I ventured onto the deck of ferry to take a few pics of Ms. Liberty and in the short few minutes that I was out there my lips completely froze so that I couldn’t talk properly. I arrived at Ellis Island resembling an immigrant myself with my scarf wrapped carefully about my head.

Ellis Island itself was very impressive. There's an enormous display of all the trunks and boxes that the immigrants brought their life's belongings across in in the entrance which reminded me of the boxes I saw in India. Recalling the scene in Hitch when Will Smith takes his date to Ellis Island to show her her great uncle’s entry in the registration book (who is actually a serial killer) I wandered around looking for the registration book. Eventually I asked one of the guides.

Me: “Excuse me, where is the registration book”
Guide with disdainful roll of eyes and despairing sigh: “There is NO registration book. Will Smith is a liar!”

Whooopsi. Something tells me that I am not the first person to ask him that.

Needless to say, straight after Ellis Island I went and bought a hat.

We also went for a stroll in Central Park and ended my New York experience with an obligatory play on Broadway - Beauty and the Beast.

Start spreading the news, I'm leaving today

Don’t you hate it when you’re running late for your international flight? You rush home from work, recklessly throw everything into your bag knowing that you are almost definitely forgetting something important and mission through the afternoon traffic to the airport. You get there only to discover that your flight has been delayed for 2 hours. This basically means that instead of 2 hours you have 4 hours to kill at the airport:

• 17:10 – 17:20: You clear passport control in record time. Of course this only happens when you have a spare 4 hours to stand in the queue if necessary
• 17:20 – 17:40: You experiment with new lipstick colours and smell perfumes until you look like a clown and your nostrils have gone numb
• 17:40 – 17:50: You frequent Accessorise and try on all the hats. As you do this you realise that one of the important things you forgot was a hat and gloves. You resist the temptation to buy a new hat and pair of gloves.
• 17:50 – 18:10: You hang around exclusive books for a while but your browsing has a limit with both lap top bag and hand bag and coat in tow. By this time your feet, foresightfully decked in fur lined boots are VERY hot
• 18:10: Now you are bored. The metal latticed seats do not look very inviting. You chance the SAA business lounge. You luck out and get in.
• 18:10 – 18:15: You sit in the sports lounge and watch cricket for a while (stranger things have happened).
• 18:15: You think to yourself “what the hell am I doing in the sports lounge watching cricket?”
• 18:16: You decided to get back into blogging

I’m BBBBBBBAAAAAAACCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKK.

Well it must be said that all is going relatively well for now considering the last time I went to Chicago I managed to lose my travel wallet with credit card, passport, ticket and forex inside in the Heathrow airport. I found it again after 40 panic stricken minutes, thank goodness. Someone had handed it in.

BTW, for the blog name, credit must be given to the Big Blue B2 change management team.

I spoke too soon

• 18:40: Bump into digsmate Kevin in the SAA departure lounge on his way to Dubai for a horse show (or something along those lines).
• 18:40 – 19:30: Sit with Kevin and his boss for a while in the sports lounge. Why am I back here?
• 19:30: Kevin leaves and I find a comfy couch and read my book
• 19:40: I realise that my phone is no longer on my person. Knowing myself I carefully and thoroughly check my computer bag and handbag before raising the alarm bells.
• 19:45: No phone. Calmly check comfy couch and surrounds, bathroom and sports lounge
• 19:50: No phone. Raise alarm bells.
• 20:00: 50% of rather packed SAA lounge is helping me look for my phone. It is still ringing which is a good sign but none-the-less nowhere to be found.
• 20:10: Called to reception where Emirates air hostess hands me my phone. Kevin took it with him by mistake.
• 20:15: Sheepishly exit departure lounge. Think my cover of business class traveller may by this stage have been blown.