Onward!!

Last night, after a day that seemed like it had lasted years, I made it home via a quick bite at the pub. I like it in the new place – the warm light in the stairwell shining through the front door is not ecological but really, really welcoming. Equally welcoming were my tipsy housemates who, giggling, informed me that they had a confession to make. For a second I thought that there was something serious I was about to be told but it turned out that they had drank the wine I brought and hadn’t saved me any. Phew, sigh of relief.

The bottle they had had and the subsequent one we corked made for lots of laughter and revelations. I had wanted to learn a bit more about the people I live with, and I got a heaping portion last night, from relationships to relatives, including a sister who’s in a successful bubblegum pop group.

The landlord is supposed to come round to do something in the house today. Since the place could nicely be described as looking “lived in” we decided to work some magic and clean the kitchen and hallway then and there, at a quarter to midnight. With the help of some loud music and division of labour we got the place looking really nice quickly. That, too, reminded me why I was attracted to the flat despite it being a bit inconvenient for my usual commute. It just looks and feels nice and welcoming, despite (or maybe because of?) IKEA prints and trimmings. Now just to make my room as pleasant to be in.

Moving into a new place has strange effects: In the mornings I have a desire to make my bed even though I know it’s better not to. I’ve got tons of space in my room and all my stuff is in neat piles (though not yet in their final locations) and my clothes are all neatly hung in the wardrobe. Even without colour-coordinated new IKEA furniture, my room is a caricature of Scandinavian mnimalism.

The rest of the house is a happy-go-lucky jumble of clutter and drying laundry. Finding pots and pans is an exciting adventure before setting down to cook dinner. Well, not really. Being the new guy in the house just makes it feel like it. My flatmates are all actors in various states of employment, meaning they embody the bohemian carefree attitude a fair bit. One is on tour abroad, but I’ve spent two evenings with the other two.

I say spent, but really it’s been the two of them largely concentrating on an essay that’s due or on filling invitation envelopes for casting directors. Invariably, the TV has blared in the background. And that’s where I come in to another strange aspect of being a new housemate in a new place. I guess I could have asked if I could change the channel and watch something boring like the news, but somehow I preferred to chat to them occasionally from the sofa and trying to get some reading done. I like my housemates, and I’m sure they don’t mind having me around. This process is just a type of coming-to-terms with the changed social dynamic.

Tonight I think I’ll try and get done with my presentation outline for next Monday’s class so that I could concentrate on a new project tomorrow. Hopefully the housemates won’t be as immersed in doing stuff and we could have a sit-down and get to know each other a little bit more. Maybe finally crack open the wine I brought on Sunday when I moved.

Tomorrow night, I will be sleeping in a new bed in a new place. I won’t have the way home that’s become so familiar after going out- the crowded bus, the walk past the kebab shop, the closed storefronts of the Caribbean café, the nail salons and the bakery, the church and the betting shop, the nice but expensive pub (sometimes with revelers still inside, other times in the process of being closed or already with chairs stacked on tables in the darkened room), the boarded-up building with no purpose… the walk over the now-familiar sidewalk tiles, the turns I could probably do in my sleep (and often do in a fair approximation of it).

I’ve had it pretty good, with transport links and flatmates and everything. I’m definitely leaning on the positive with my experiences up to now. While I do regret leaving, I’m also looking forward to the new place, new flatmates and new experiences of stumbling home. Hopefully it won’t be bad. Theoretically, I should have decent night bus connections. Transport in London isn’t always as good as in theory, though.

Also, an amateurish mistake I have to confess to: A lager, a Żubrówka, a glass of wine, a shot of sambuca and some vodka with a mixer result in an absolutely horrific aftertaste for the bus ride back home.

Now, to hit the hay for the last time in this house.

Since some of my friends left for a week’s field trip in New York City, and I’m spending a drawn-out afternoon at work, I decided to splash out American style (read: “eat big”) and go to Subway for lunch. The lady asked me if I wanted my sandwich with double meats and get a free drink. Sure, why the hell not, I thought.

It may have been a terrible mistake. When she handed me the foot-long packed sandwich (Italian BMT with double meat, single cheese, all greens and chilli mayonnaise) it must have weighed 2 pounds. I wasn’t going to chicken out though, so I managed to finish it all. Staggering out after the food and a big soft drink I felt absolutely terrible. Gluttony of that sort really isn’t good for you, especially if you’re used to a relatively meager student diet. Why would someone subject themselves to this on a regular basis?

A brief Helsinki news story caught my attention this evening. A man had been found suffering from smoke inhalation after a fire had started in his flat which was on the same street as my father’s place. I messaged my brother and asked him to call him up and ask if he’s ok. Within a minute of me reading the story, I knew he was all right and had no idea about any fire, which was good. I would have never found out about the possibility had I not read the news snippet on the Internet. I don’t think I could have found out so quickly without cell phones and instant messaging. I’m not sure which would be better if it had indeed been my father – to find out quickly after my brother trying to call him, or hear afterwards after they would contact family.

Either way, I’m glad he’s ok and do appreciate being able to instantly call or message anyone on my own mobile phone. That’s pretty cool, if you think about it for more than an eyeblink.