An American in Leeds

Happy (belated) Thanksgiving, my fellow Americans! Just wanted to relay this quick story to you: I accidentally bought garlic mayonnaise in the grocery store tonight. I thought it was garlic butter. Anyway, before I realized it was mayonnaise, I slathered it onto a piece of bread, folded it up, and stuck in my mouth. I inadvertently ate a mayonnaise sandwich. That I made myself.

The hunt for a permanent place to live has begun, and, fingers crossed, has ended. I put a deposit down on a studio apartment by the River Aire on Saturday. It is PERFECT. Open brickwork, small, in my budget, tons of natural sunlight, view of the river. It's not even really a studio- there's a dividing wall between the living room and the bedroom. And it's across the street from a pub. This makes me worried that something horrible is going to happen, and I'm not going to get it. Because the universe loves to laugh at me. Guess what universe? You owe me, big fracking time. Be glad I'm not charging interest. Anyway, I'm looking forward to having a permanent home. I've been living out of two duffle bags and two small boxes, because I don't want to unpack. Unpacking would be like settling in, and I don't want to feel settled in my temporary abode, as cool as the building is: Although, even with my two duffle bags, and two small boxes (which gets "Tw...

When I had the brilliant idea to write this blog, I decided that it would be a combination of a picture blog, a story blog, and a repository for my thoughts and feelings on moving and living in a foreign country. Today's post is going to be one of the third kind. So if you're not into feelings, or text heavy posts, best to sit this one out. I am a creature of habit. I like to go on autopilot, especially in the morning. While getting dressed, and making my coffee and breakfast (shut up, Toph, I can hear you laughing), I organize my day in my head. While at work, I can think "I need to do X," and I can do X without having to think where am I going to get the materials, where that piece of equipment is, etc. It wasn't until I had NO routine that I realize how much I rely on my routine to get me through the day. And by NO routine, I mean I couldn't even make a cup of coffee because I didn't have a coffee maker. Or make a copy, because I didn't know where t...

A small sampling of snack foods from my trip to the grocery store this evening. Yes, I know, Kit Kats are not just a British thing, we have them in the States, too. But! The package is different! And they're FOIL FRESH here! Upon opening the package: The sweet smell of chocolate wrapped around a wafer. Reminds me of late afternoons at the lab, and getting a Kit Kat from the vending machine, then eating it at the back door of the building with the smokers while we're all hiding from our PIs. Ah, memories. Upon tasting: There must be something to that FOIL FRESH claim because this Kit Kat's got some bite to it! Crispy! Upon opening the bag, one catches the light scent of shrimp cocktail, as served at one's grandma's house at Memorial Day. A hint of ketchup, and shrimp sitting out in the sun a smidge longer than is safe. Upon savoring, one gets the taste of plain ol' salt n' vinegar chips. After eating a Kit Kat- ah, there's the taste of shrimp. More chocol...

in a continuing series. Trousers: Biscuit: Washing up liquid: Fob: Hob: EDIT: Since I've been asked: the hob is the stove top. Coriander:

Or rather, Kat vs. The British Washing-Drying Combo Machine. Which I wouldn't have known was a dual-purpose machine off the bat if my boss hadn't exclaimed happily that I could wash AND dry my clothes the day he dropped me off at my temporary abode. Believe me, this story is a lot more entertaining than Kat vs. The Radiator. That fight boiled down to realizing that I only had one dial to turn on both radiators (one is in the living room, the other is in the bedroom), and I had to remove said dial from one room to the other when I wanted to turn them on/ off. This adventure actually started the day before, when I tried to buy laundry detergent. The good: everything is smaller here, so I didn't have to lug home a behemoth-sized bottle. The bad: there is no such thing as dye-free, fragrance-free detergent, so my skin may curl up and die. This weekend, I decided I needed clean socks, dishtowels, and jeans. Side note: why do clothes you wear while traveling always smell so bad b...

I arrived in Leeds just over a week ago, on Halloween. Upon landing in Leeds, I first collected my belongings, then was shuffled off to the grocery store because one does not come to live in England for any length of time without having the materials for making a cup of tea. Tea procured, and life is as it should be. So! My first impressions of Leeds, in pictures. This is not technically Leeds: but it is the first store I saw in the terminal for domestic flights at London Heathrow. I think I'm going to like this country. I opened up the phone book to find a bank, and this is what I found: One and one-third page list of public houses (pubs), without any large ads. This made me laugh: Because I am perpetually a 13-year-old boy. On my way to work: Because, really, what more do you need? And finally, not Shakers, but... Quakers!