The GirlAlive Blog

A few years ago when I was living in Seattle, one of my best friends, Kat, told me all about when she lived in the UK and how much she loved it.  After I moved here, I pretty much thought she was maybe a little crazy.  But I think I've changed my mind.  You see, she didn't live in Edinburgh.  She lived in Manchester.

After spending a long weekend in Liverpool, I can see how in a lot of ways, the northwest of England is much different from Scotland.  The people seemed to pretty much mind their own business.  There were cool artsy and gothy type people all over, with no one staring at them.  And the cost of living is lower than Edinburgh.  A kebab that would easily cost 6 pounds in Edinburgh cost only 3 in Liverpool.  

There has been talk in my house the last few days about maybe moving elsewhere.  Edinburgh is surly, grumpy and overpriced.  I think I'd be happier elsewhere.  Maybe Liverpool.  Maybe not.  There are a few other cities, like Cardiff, under debate.  We'll see what happens.

In other news, the women in my office have been outright shunning me.  Since I got back from my long weekend of immigration crap, no one other than my boss has spoken to me in the office.  I don't know what happened there when I was gone.  I don't know what their deal is or what they suddenly have against me.  I also don't know if I care, since I have practically nothing in common with any of them, and I've already been looking for a new job.

Alana 

Posted by Alana at 08:09 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I had to go to Liverpool to go for an interview with immigration because my spouse visa expired October 12th.  Normally I could just go to Glasgow, but they were booked up, partly because the royal mail has been striking every few days and no one can trust them with a postal application.

So, Thursday morning we piled food into the guinea pig cages, and gave them giant water bottles and topped up Binky's  food and water and then got on a bus at 7:30 to go to the train station.  Halfway there, an idiot in a van parked in the bus lane and refused to move.  The bus driver had to call the cops, and meanwhile we were stuck there.  After about 10 minutes, Neil was starting to panic about catching our train, and I told him, "You are large and intimidating.  We can use this."  So Neil started walking, or actually more like storming, to the front of the bus.  The driver looked up the aisle and saw him coming, and suddenly let us all get off and catch other buses.  We got to the train station on time.

We bought ourselves some sandwiches for lunch and got on the train.  It was pretty uneventful.  We had to switch trains at Wigan, and they had appalingly bad bathrooms at that station.  I wanted to have lunch on the train from Wigan to Liverpool but I couldn't because the train smelled weird.  So we ate in the Liverpool train station.

We found our hotel (a Travelodge in the center of Liverpool) and then went on to the interview place because it was too early to check in.

We had to go through a lot of searches at the door of the building because we still had all our luggage with us.  It was a big pain in the butt.  Then we went up to the interview room, which had glass booths with the interviewer people in them.  We waited for our number to be called.  It didn't take too long.  They pretty much just took our piles of documents and sent us back to wait.

They called us back and told us that they might have to refer our case to London because I didn't have enough documentation from October 2005 to May of 2006.  But he said he'd ask his manager if maybe they could put it through here.  So we waited and started quietly freaking out.  My visa expired the next day.  I didn't know if I would even be able to go home or if I would have to leave the country. 

About 8000 years later (or maybe 5 minutes) the guy came back and said, "We're going to do it for you."  I didn't quite immediately believe him.  But he said that there was no question in his mind that we were a legitimate couple and I had good reason for why I didn't have documentation for that time peroid (I didn't get any mail).  So since it was 3:30 in the afternoon and they didn't want that kind of extra paperwork, they put it through.  I just had to wait another 20 minutes or so for the visa to be attached to my passport, and we were done. 

The rest of that day was just kind of a shell-shocked recovery from that meeting.  The only great revelations after checking into the hotel were that a) Travelodge is not a particularly good hotel and b) takeaway food in Liverpool is very cheap, but does not come with forks.

The next day we had breakfast at a little cafe next to the hotel that was cheap and really good.  Then we went to the World Museum of Liverpool, which was free and pretty nice.  Then we went to the Boots (drug store) in the train station to buy the hairbrushes Neil and I both forgot to pack.  Then back to the hotel to order more takeaway food and relax for the night.  (4 kebabs and 4 cans of pop for 12 pounds)

Saturday did not start off well, as it started at 1:15 in the morning with the fire alarm going off.  We stood outside in the cold for a long time.  Neil says ten minutes, but I think it was a long time.  Then the firemen came and decided that the building was not on fire and let us go back to bed.  I hadn't really been sleeping anyway because the bed was very bouncy.  Like sleeping on a trampoline.  Or possibly a bouncy castle.

We got up later that morning and checked out of the hotel after finishing the rest of our kebabs for breakfast.  We went to the Cavern Club, where the Beatles were discovered.  Then we found a very nice shopping area.  I bought a snoopy scarf and a blue stuffed monkey that I have named MonkeyPuppy.

After that, we met my husband's parents in the train station (since they live not too far away in Wigan) and had a nice conversation and coffee with them for a few hours.   Then we all got on trains heading home.  We went from Liverpool to Preston than on to Edinburgh.  There were a lot of Girl Guides on our train.  Then we just barely caught a bus home. 

The hamster was happy to see me, especially since I gave him banana chips.  The guinea pigs were annoyed with us.  Fudgie bit Neil when he was sweeping out their cage.  But Neil is getting back at him by giving the piggies baths right now.

By the way, if you could all maybe keep our piggy Spike in your prayers, that would be appreciated.  He's always been a bit sickly, and lately he's losing some fur on his belly.  We're going to try to get him to a vet soon, but we probably won't be able to get him in any earlier than Friday.

Oop.  Sounds like I need to dry a guinea pig.

Alana 

Posted by Alana at 01:27 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I have been putting together a listography page for myself, cause sometimes it's easier to think in lists.

You can read it at http://listography.com/girlalive.

Not much else going on.  I have my immigration interview on Thursday and I don't want to go.  If all goes well I'll have permanent residence by Friday.  If all does not go well, I'll be hiding out in Ireland until I figure out where I can legally live.

Alana 

Posted by Alana at 09:20 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I was watching a tv show on the topic of hair removal a couple nights ago.  In this show they were talking about the American and British compulsion to remove all evidence of body hair from women, and people who are obsessed with removing hair and people who couldn't care less about it.  

I personally come from a hairy family, but I really don't care about removing all of it.  I shave my legs and armpits whenever there's a chance they'll be visible in public.  But I cover most of my skin all the time, so most people don't know or care if I have hairy legs.

There was one woman who shaved her entire body every day, sometimes 2 or 3 times a day.  She very literally had obsessive compulsive disorder surrounding hair removal.  But she was not the most disturbing person on the show.  The one that disturbs me the most even several days later is the one they interviewed about why she was getting a "Hollywood" wax (removal of all pubic hair).  Her answer with no irony or joking in her expression was, and I couldn't make this up:

"I used to get a Brazillian wax, but then everyone started getting the Hollywood wax, and you have to follow the trends, don't you?" 

Wow.  I mean, wow.  So this woman is getting all the hair forcibly ripped from her genitals by a complete stranger on a regular basis just because she thinks that everyone else does it.  She is the living example of, "If all your friends jumped off a bridge, would you?"  She totally would.

Do they even teach the concept of individuality and resisting peer pressure here?  Probably not, I guess.  I mean, you would get Americans who are slaves to fashion, but none of them would ever admit it.  My parents and friends in the US complain that the heavy influence on individuality in America is destroying the concept of community.  The people here are in no way indivifual, and yet there is still no sense of community.  Conformity doesn't equal community.  Conformity just makes you unoriginal and boring.

Alana

Posted by Alana at 05:33 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I figured out one of the things that irks me about this country.  It's crazy.  Literally.  Like the whole country is bi-polar.  When you meet someone here, you don't know if you're meeting the meek little "mustn't grumble" British person, or if you're meeting a raging violent drunk who will punch strangers in the head for little or no reason.

Actually, it reminds me of my favorite movie, Serenity.  (Spoilers follow, but the movie came out 2 years ago, so you should have seen it by now.)  In that movie, there is a planet called Miranda where there is a gas pumped into the atmosphere to make people calm and peaceful, but it made 10% of them become cannibal rapist monsters.  That's what living here is like.

Most British people automatically, without thinking, do whatever they're asked.  I've heard stories of British muggers being foiled because their victim asks them to "please give me the knife", and they do.   They can't help it.  Most of them are meek little sheep who have never asked the question "why" in their entire life.

"That's not true!" a bunch of you are yelling.  In my office, they have told us that we have to have everything done within 6 weeks.  Who made this rule?  Why 6 weeks?  To what end?  No one has ever asked.  Except me.  And when I did, people looked at me like the building might blow up if I asked one more "why".  I asked for special leave for my immigration stuff, and I was told that I'd have to use vacation time instead.  When I asked why I couldn't have special leave, the reaction was like I had just opened fire with an AK-47 in the file library.  No one asks why!  You just do what you're told, and adopt the proper British "mustn't grumble" attitude.

Then there's the other 10%.  They're nutbags.  I was standing at the bus stop yesterday and some idiot on a cell phone rear-ended a #8 bus.  I'm not sure how he possibly could have missed the bright red double decker bus right in front of him, but he managed to.  There is no doubt that he was an idiot and an awful driver.  He got out, and so did the bus driver and they calmly exchanged information like normal people.  Then the Raging Lunatic showed up.  A skinny woman from the top deck of the bus ran into the street and started screaming at the driver of the car about how she had 2 kids on that bus and where did he get off endangering them.  She has to be subdued and dragged back onto the bus.  Let's think about this logically a moment.  This guy's tiny French car hits a DOUBLE DECKER BUS and she's worried about him hurting anyone in the bus.  She even had to ask the driver if the car behind had hit them before she went on her tirade, that's how little damage he did.  It wasn't her bus.  It wasn't her car.  Yet she felt a need to attack a complete stranger with a big screaming hissy fit.  She is one of the 10% for whom the chemical in the British atmosphere has had the opposite effect, and now she's a raging lunatic Reaver.

I don't think I'll ever get the British.  And I'm not sure I want to.

Alana 

Posted by Alana at 06:51 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)