All Hallow's Eve and Beer Pong

Yesterday night was my first proper American party, and a Halloween party at that. If there's one main difference between Halloween Stateside and back home, it's that here it's sexier. The raison d'etre of most girls' costumes seems to be as slutty as possible. There was a flight attendant (with "Mile High Captain" badge), a nurse, and a couple of very scantily-clad witches. There were some pretty lame costumes as well, particularly among the menfolk. One chap came as "a member of the russian mafia", just dressed all in black. Another fellow just had a T-shirt on bearing the slogan:

"THIS IS MY COSTUME. NOW GIVE ME THE DAMN CANDY."

It was a proper American party as well, with people drinking "lite", tasteless beer our of cardboard cups, "jello shots" (vodka jelly to you and me) and jock-ish drinking games. The main one was Beer Pong. This involved setting up a "rack" of half full beakers of beer at either end of a long table, arranged in a triangle like a rack of pool balls. The combatants would then take it in turns to try and toss a ping pong ball from one end of the table into one of their opponents' mugs of beer. If you got one, your opponent had to drink that cup, and you got another go. Needless to say, as the cups get fewer and the player gets drunker, the game becomes harder and harder. Lots of fun - I wasn't bad at it either.

I went as a giant. I can't claim this idea for my own - I copied it off something a London friend did a couple of years ago. I bought an old shirt from a charity shop, and sewed little toy knights onto it as if they were climbing all over it. I then blotched it with red paint to make it a bit more halloween-y, as if the little bastards were trying to stab me. People generally didn't get it at first, but once I'd explained in detail it was generally appreciated. I must have been the only one who did anything home-made, I think - everyone else had bought their costume wholesale from one of the numerous Halloween shops around here, which will presumably morph into Christmas shops in a couple of weeks.

Here's a farily poo photo taken with my phone of my work of art:


And here's a "detail shot" of one of the little blighters climbing on my shoulder:


There wasn't a great deal in the way of potential romantic action (the reader can probably detect a thread running through my various posts!). There were two really very attractive Jewish sisters, one of whom I chatted to for a while and (another theme) was digging the accent. No joy though - she passed out soon after talking to me, which thinking about it may not be a particularly good sign... A journalist from New Hampshire seemed very interested, but she would be touching my leg one minute, and talking about her boyfriend the next. Talk about confusing...

So I've now followed up with 3 of the girls I met speed dating, and I can see potential friendships evolving - they all seem to still be friendly after a few hours in my company anyway. I didn't post about the "date" I had with one of them on Thursday, but there's not an awful lot to tell. I use quotes because although we put each other down as friends on the speed dating site, it was just the two of us having drinks and chatting for a few hours, and it had something of a date atmosphere around it. Really pleasant evening though, and hopefully I'll see her again.

It's been cold, windy and rainy today. Proper New England weather settling in, I fear. Combine that with a hangover (I only got home from the party at 4 this morning) and I've only left the house to get the bare essentials - fruit juice, takeout pizza and cigarettes. Tomorrow I shall do something more constructive.

Poker Night

So, tonight I went to a poker night with 6 female teachers. Sounds good? Well, it was in many respects. Certainly interesting.

It was at the house of a girl that I met at speed dating last week, out in East Bumfuck, MA (well, Malden, MA, but it was right at the end of the T - what they call the subway - and seemed like the middle of nowhere to me). To begin with, it seemed like I was rather gatecrashing a girly, Sex and The City-type night - apparently this is a regular Tuesday night thing - but as expected they showed due interest in the fact that I was English. "Say English stuff!" "What's the deal with pants?" "Why can't Tony Blair think for himself?" etc etc

They were a fairly eclectic bunch - 3 from Massachusetts, 1 from New York, 1 from Arizona and 1 from Virginia. To be quite accurate, 5 were teachers at a local high school, and 1 is a web developer at a local bank. As far as romantic interest goes, it was pretty much a non-starter :-(...

3 were gay - I think two of them were a couple
1 was a little too old for my taste (over 30 methinks)
1 was the girl from speed-dating, who is a really nice girl but I don't really fancy her
1 was really very attractive, but turned out to be engaged to a Harvard Law student

So there ya go. But hey, romance isn't everything and I had a very fun evening. We started off with some french onion soup and grilled "american" (i.e. tasteless) cheese on toast, before moving on to poker. Predictably, given my meagre experience with the game I was pretty diabolical, but we only played 5 or 6 hands. Then it was out to the garden (or "yard") to smoke some cigars - not something I was expecting, but very welcome nonetheless. During this one of the girls decided to imitate my accent, which came out extremely posh - like the Queen would sound if she were trying to make a good impression.

Rather hilariously, during the course of the game I somehow managed to break the chair I was sitting on. Due to the unexpected number of people a reserve chair had been brought forth from some backquarters, and it was this unfortunate soul I chose to sit on. I felt a slow sinking feeling, and then before I knew it I was on the floor in a sea of splintered wood. And I wasn't even drunk, or particularly fat. It provided plenty of amusement though and my blushes didn't last too long.

After cigars it was time for brownies (mmm), followed by listening to bits of a musical that was written by one of the girls (she's a drama teacher). It was the story of Jack and the Beanstalk, and I dare say her songs were pretty good (in the broadway musical tradition) but to be honest it's not really my thing, so I just nodded appreciatively. Then, since we were in the arse-end of nowhere and the trains had stopped running, I got a ride back with one of the girls (the engaged pretty one) who lives in Harvard Square, just round the corner from me.

All very entertaining. They were a fun lot, and I'm sure I'll see them again. As Tommy said in a comment to an earlier post, I'll be buggered if any of the people I meet actually stumble across in this blog, but I'll just have to risk it or this will be incredibly boring.

Now, I need to get a Halloween costume sorted...

Hockey, beaches etc.

I'm on the train back to Boston after a tiring but fun couple of days in New York. For a change, as well, my friend and I didn't just crawl around the bars of Greenwich Village - we actually got out and about and did (vaguely) constructive things.

I came in on the overnight flight - they call it the "red-eye" here - from my meeting in San Jose on Friday. The flight was via Los Angeles, which is another city I can add to my list of those that I've flown through but not actually visited when I really should do (think the others are Chicago, Denver and Las Vegas). LA viewed from the air is utterly vast - even as we were beginning our descent all you could see was a carpet of grid-pattern streetlights stetching into the distance in all directions (apart from the ocean of course).

So getting ito NY at half 6 on Saturday morning, having got as usual very little sleep on the four-and-a-half-hour flight, was not perhaps the best way to begin a fun weekend away. I went straight to my friend's flat on the upper west side, and collapsed in his bed (he spent the night at his girlfriend's) for a couple of hours. Breakfast at midday was a slice of pepperoni pizza sitting on the swings in Central Park, which was eminently pleasant while we ruminated on what do with ourselves till it was a decent time to start drinking. It was a gorgeous autumn day, so we wanted to do something outdoors-y rather than go to a gallery or similar, so we decided to go to the beach. We got on a train at Penn station and rode out on the Long Island Railroad to the nearest beach that looked promising, which was Long Beach. Long Beach wasn't a particularly exciting town, but the beach was very nice indeed - acres of fine (clean!) white sand, deserted but for the occasional jogger or dog-walker. The sea front wasn't much to look at (and was pretty shut down), but if this is anything to go by, then places like the Hamptons further up the coast must be beautiful places to spent the summer.

After that it was back to Long Beach town for yet more slices of pizza. Next stop was an ice hockey match. We had wanted to go to a baseball game, but the season was over. Failing that, a basketball game, but the Knicks were playing away, so ice hockey it was - the New York Islanders v the Carolina Hurricanes. The arena was absolutely in the middle of nowhere - we had to get a 10 minute taxi ride from the closest train station, and we mis-judged the timing so that we arrived mid-way through the second period. I'd never really paid much attention to ice hocky before, but it was a really fun game to watch, and the basic rules obvious enough to begin enjoying it straight away (get the puck in the back of the opponent's net). While the scoring rate is low, the game is very fast and end-to-end, like basketball, and the skill of the skaters is really very impressive. It's a very odd and compelling combination of grace and violence - players will glide beautifully around the rink, dribbling the puck and fluidly passing to their teammates, before being uncerimoniously shoulder barged into oblivion by an opposing player. We only saw one actual fight though.

Unfortunately our grasp of the rules did not extend to the playing time - I was under the impression there were 4 quarters, so at the end of the 3rd "period" we slipped out for a cheeky cigarette. A couple of minutes later, everyone came streaming out and we realized we'd missed the final passage of play, which was a little silly. Lots of fun though - I think I could get into hockey.

Getting back to Manhattan proved a trial - there were no taxi ranks or bus stops at the stadium, and every offical looking person we asked about same looked at us blankly, clearly not comprehending why anyone would contemplate going there unaided by a car. The lights of a Marriott hotel were not far away though, so we trudged across the car park and were able to order a taxi there, which took us back to Manhattan after we decided we really couldn't be arsed waiting an hour for a train. The Long Island cabbie really didn't know his way around Manhattan unforunately, so it was left to us to navigate him from the Brooklyn bridge up to the upper west side. You'd think with the numbered grid system it'd be fairly easy to pick up, but no. He really didn't get it, and ended up getting a pretty meagre tip by American standards.

From there, given that it was a Saturday night and we'd been such good chaps so far, we went to a couple of bars to finish with. The second had one of those very exuberant and flirty (and drunk) barmaids that you get over here. She ID'd me, and looked at my passport;

She: "What happened?"

Me: "What do you mean?"

She: "Your passport photo is really good looking - what happened?"

Me: (Chastened) "I was only 16 - it's been a couple of years"

She then made me retrieve the passport from her bra, which was a little embarassing. We did get some free shots for it though.

Today was rather less eventful - we went to see an American Football game in a bar with some American friends. It was the first time I'd ever enjoyed watching the sport - probably because I was with people who cared about the result, and so I cared by proxy.

It looks like this week I won't need to venture from Boston, which will be a nice change. I need to sort out a Halloween costume for Friday, though it doesn't necessarily need to be scary here. The girl who invited me suggested I go as James Bond, which is easy but boring. Others have suggested Austin Powers or David Beckham, clearly going for the British thing. Any ideaas welcome...

Friday evening in San Jose airport

So I'm in San Jose at the moment. Strange place - it's like a technology theme park. Northern California has a pretty good reputation overall. It has a gorgeous climate, one of the great US cities in San Francisco, and one of the largest economies in the world. San Jose (and the rest of Silicon Valley, spreading all the way up to San Francisco) is like a gigantic technology theme park. You can't move for the offices of some of the biggest tech companies in the world - driving down the highway you'll pass Yahoo!, Google, eBay, Cisco, McAfee and Sun, to name a few. Stanford University's just down the road, as well.

What that means is that people are so well paid here that the property prices are some of the highest in the country outside Manhattan, despite it being really rather a dull place to live. Over the last few weeks I've spent quite a few days in downtown San Jose, and it has less charm and things to do than Milton Keynes. And there aren't even any roundabouts to keep you amused.

[That reminds me - a bit of an aside this, but I'll mention it anyway. One of the few European flavours to be kept at Ikea in Massachusetts was that the (presumably purpose built) complex had lots of roundabouts in, which are unheard of here. It was increadibly amusing to see Americans drive up to them and just sit there in confusion. "Consarn it! What in Sam Hill am I supposed to do here?" They might have said...]

Anyway, back to San Jose. Despite the soporific nature of the town, everyone here (who works hee, anyway) is fantastically intelligent. Most of them seem to have PhDs from Stanford, and that makes business meetings here rather more interesting than they might generally be. Not more productive, as having a room full of bright sparks is no guarantee to getting something useful out of a meeting, but certainly more entertaining.

Finally, did you know Chicago is so-pronounced because it was mostly populated by the French? I didn't. Mental note: find out how significant the French influence was in the early US and proceed to annoy Americans with tales of how the "cheese eating surrender monkeys" helped to build their treasured nation.

Right, I may be in San Jose airport on a Friday evening, but I'm on my way to New York for the weekend, which should be fun. Hopefully there'll be some Tales To Tell.

The Windy City

Crikey, Chicago is cold. I'm here on the way to San Jose for a meeting tomorrow, and just stepped outside for a cheeky smoke. Cold enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey, as my Dad would say. Boston's postively Mediterrenean by comparison.

Quick update on the speed-dating: I didn't put anyone down for a second date in the end - just friendships, from which I have already secured a Halloween party invitation for next week. She wants me to come as James Bond...

Speed Dating

OK, so just to prove that I'm not just sitting in building furniture and writing on this blog, tonight I went speed dating in downtown Boston. The motives weren't primarily romantic, you understand, more just to get out there and meet people in a more efficient and less creepy way than randomly approaching people in bars.

It was moderately successful too. I had eight eight minute "dates". One was an absolute psycho - she didn't want to be there (was dragged along by a friend), wasn't very forthcoming with the conversation, and seemed to be a teensy bit racist. Ah well.

Most of the other seven were reasonable fun though, at least to talk to for eight minutes. I was fortunate in that the English accent and the fact that I've just moved over gives me an immediate head start, and can fill the conversation for at least 6 of the available minutes. Unexpectedly, pretty much everyone seemed to have lived in Massachussetts all their lives - I was expecting Boston to be a little more cosmopolitan than that, though I shouldn't base my judgement on a sample of eight presumably rather desperate ladies. The other thing in my favour seems to be that American men are all idiots. I went for dinner afterwards with two of the girls, and listening to their accounts of their other dates I wonder how men in this country ever manage to find mates.

So I think there are 3 or 4 that I'll try and meet up with again as friends, and one that I'll go for putting down as a second date. She was the one person in the room who wasn't from the area - she was a "military kid" and spent time in Germany, England and all over the US, and she was the only one that I vaguely fancied. In fact, maybe "vaguely" isn't quite enough...

My bed

I've made my bed (from an Ikea flatpack that is):


Now I'm going to lie in it. Mmm, cosy...

Harsh words at the social security office

I had to go to the social security office today to register myself for whatever meagre benefits I may one day be entitled to, and there was a large, particularly draconian notice there that rather caught my eye. It went something like:

WARNING!
IT IS A FEDERAL OFFICE TO KILL, KIDNAP, ASSAULT, THREATEN OR
OTHERWISE INTERFERE WITH A MEMBER OF THE STAFF OF THIS OFFICE.

You'd think most of that would go without saying...

Noisy hotel

The hotel currently in in San Jose is so directly under the local airport's flightpath that they see fit to put earplugs on your bed... Priceless.

Cinammon and leaves

Phew, that was quite a day. I didn't manage to get quite as much done as I wanted, but pretty good nontheless.

The first challenge (and a significant one) was finding a car. "No need to book, it'll be fine", I thought, like a nonce. Turned out that every single rental car in central Boston was booked out for the weekend, and I ended up having to go out to the bloody airport to find one. Even then, it was on the 3rd go that I actually found one. The whole thing was made rather more annoying by the fact that I did my stupid thing of wandering around assuming I'll find something rather than being organised about it. First thing, I looked up the 4 closest rental places on Google, and then walked around each of them, with no result. The thinking was that (it being Sunday) I would be best off getting out there knocking on doors early, but it would have been SO much easier to wait an hour or so and phone round. Doofus.

So, I finally got me a car (and with one of those whizzy satellite navigation things, natch) and headed off to Ikea about an hour outside Boston. My mood soon improved with the beautiful drive. For a start, it was pretty exhilarating just to be driving (it's been a few years) and in another country as well (it was a first time for driving on the right, as well). It was an utterly gorgeous day as well, and my first glimpse of what they call "The Colour" (or "The Color", I suppose...). One hears all kinds of things about the New England fall, but based on today it's incredible. It's not just the colours of teh Massachussetts countryside - vibrant reds, browns, even purples and every shade of green available. There's something especially different about the light though. Granted, today was an absolutely clear day, but everything seemed to be incredibly sharp - it felt like I could see individual leaves as I was flying past the foliage on the freeway. It's just a shame they don't have Guy Fawkes' night, or their autumn would be perfect.

Anyway, back down to earth, and on to Ikea. The Americans don't seem to have taken flat-packed Swedish furniture to their bosoms quite as much as the British have - the store was tucked away with no signposting and wasn't particularly busy given that it's a Sunday of a bank holiday weekend (tomorrow is Columbus Day). In England, you would have taken along some sort or sword to be sure of fighting your way through the crowds. The place had also been Americanised to some extent - the cafe area had the same overwhelming stench of cinammon that airports tend to. Before I came here, my only significant exposure to the stuff was when my Mum put it in an apple pie (which was always a brilliant move - her apple pies were to die for), but Americans go pretty overboard with the stuff.

Anyway, I came away from Ikea with a full car, and my apartment is now fitted out with kitchen stuff, a matress, a bedside table and one of those bendy Ikea chairs. Table, sofa etc will be delivered in due course...

New dawn...

The sun rises on my first day in Boston - the rather groovy view from my hotel:

On the way

OK, here goes. It would be a little remiss of me to not post from the flight over, so here I am. I'm currently pretty much mid-way over the Atlantic, in the lull between films when they show Creature Comforts. I'm hungover, excited, nervous, knackered and daunted all at the same time - it turns out moving to another continent is quite stressful business.

The last couple of weeks have been pretty hard going - I seem to have had endless leaving parties and drinks, and said goodbye to so many friends. What with all the logistics as well, and the fact that I couldn't really organise anything American (as without a social security number and bank account Im' effectively a non-person), it's been very frustrating. Over the next couple of weeks I have to sort out all sorts of things and it all feels a little overwhelming, particularly since I have an enourmous amount going on at work at the moment. For example, this week I'm going to be spending 3 days in Sanf Francisco and one in Charlotte - not exactly ideal for getting settled in and sorting out my life!

But I should stop grumbling - it's probably just the headache talking. This is a very exciting time for me, a fantastic opportunity I've been angilng for for the last year or so and I can't wait to get started. How will I fare trying to start a whole new life in a new country? Will I like America or end up coming back in a year gagging for pint of proper beer and a cricket match? Will I find all my time swallowed up by work, flying around the country in and out of hotels like I'm auditioning for Fight Club? How much am I going to miss London and my friends there?

On the last question, I think quite a bit (London that is). The monosyllabic driver of the cab I took to Heathrow this afternoon unwittingly took me on a tour of some of my favourite places in London. It was an utterly gorgeous autumn day, and we meandered through north London - past the places I've lived in Highbury and through to Camden, round Regents Park (looking absolutely gorgeous), down Marylebone High Street with the yummy retaurants and poncy shops. London is still, I think, the greatest city I know - I only really know western cities, but Paris is too one-dimensional and New York just doesn't quite do it for me (yet). Maybe Barcelona is in the running, I don't know. I feel ready for a change though - I've lived there for 6 years now, and while I should think I'll go back I don't mind a change at all.

So here goes. Watch this space...