Author Archives: Ivar the Salacious

The Wedding

0
by

I woke up at 3 AM to catch my bus to Stansted airport. One bus arrived about 10 minutes early and gave me a proper scare when the driver said he’s not going to Stansted and the next one was due for 5:25 AM. My flight’s boarding gate closes at 6:05 AM.

Luckily that bus driver turned out to be an idiot and 10 minutes later another bus came in which took me to the airport. I also bought a return ticket to the airport and back – saved £5 (the ticket is valid for 1 month) and was particularly pleased with my financial planning skills during that bus trip. Looks like the past 6 months in a financial advice office is finally starting to pay off.

I reached the airport only 25 minutes before the gate closure. Unfortunately it was very crowded – huge lines before the security checks. I remember I became religious during the 20 minutes it took me to go through the beeping gates. I prayed for a miracle and promised to never do anything bad ever again if I didn’t miss my plane. I’ve been an angel ever since. 🙂

Once I was on the other side the amazing race began. I had to run and zig-zag past all the slow people with their carry-on luggage. Luckily I made it to the boarding gate in time and had at least 10-20 minutes to cool down in the queue before boarding the plane. All this panic for nothing!

My previous trip to Estonia taught me that I will need some reading material for the flight. Since I’m studying for my next exam I took my study stuff with me – once a nerd, always a nerd. I was impressed how productive I was.

Very beautiful weather greeted me in Estonia. I took the bus from Tallinn to Tartu and continued my studies. This is commitment to my craft… Watch out, soon a new financial advisor will ravish the streets of London.

I still needed to buy a wedding gift for my sister and after about 2 hours of windowshopping in various malls it suddenly hit me – the perfect wedding gift. Or at least it made perfect sense as a gift. I thought that a wedding day is probably one of your life’s luckiest and happiest days, I should buy the bride and groom a big bunch of lottery tickets. The way I see it (by completely ignoring everything taught during my statistics studies) one’s probability of winning the jackpot is maximized on that person’s wedding day. Foolproof logic!

 

I had one day until the wedding and scheduled a meet-up with my homies Pete and Siim. It was a great success. We had lots of fun catching up, had a few drinks and did a bit of grilling. One of the night’s highlights was when I tried opening a wine bottle with my shoe. Well… uhm… I saw it once on YouTube but wasn’t able to replicate the method. Basically all you need to do is put the wine bottle into the shoe and tap the shoe on a hard surface so that the pressure and the wine’s momentum will push the cork outwards. Just 3 wonderful seconds after my brilliant idea and a few knocks the wine bottle cracked into a million tiny pieces. YouTube owes me a bottle of wine. Sergey Brin, I’m talking to you!

 

The Wedding

I put on my best clothes and a tie. I think I looked a lot like a bank employee. That suspicion became certainty after two random strangers in different locations asked me “is Swedbank still open today” and “where’s the closest ATM”.

It wasn’t a huge wedding – about 30 people with family and friends. My old history teacher was the one who held the wedding ceremony. She read a long poem and shortly after that announced my little sister and her fiancé as husband and wife. A lot of congratulating and photographing followed.  It was very sweet.

Lots of photographs later we went to the wedding party. Everybody was fairly shy in the beginning – we had a lot of people who didn’t know each other – I didn’t know the majority of people. Things changed after consuming alcohol for an hour or two – people loosened up and started mingling. At least that’s what I did. So in that sense it was a truly Estonian wedding.

I “danced” with almost every girl that night and had a little chat with them. They all seemed very nice and friendly. None of them could dance and I hope I didn’t make them feel too bad about it. I feel quite incompetent when I dance with advanced girls in my classes, so I can relate to what it was like. Sorry ladies.

I left the party before midnight because people were getting a bit too drunk and I hadn’t really found my place in the crowd. I’m sure my sister had a good night and that’s all that matters to me.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0GSrrmM0MOE

The next day I planned to meet up with a few friends. My planning and communication wasn’t too good and I wasn’t able to see all the people I originally planned to meet. Oh well, maybe next time.

It was good to see Michael again after 4 or 5 years. I had lunch with him and his 20 friends. Mike doesn’t travel alone you see. He seemed quite energetic compared to the last time I saw him. I also learned that I always need to specify what vegan means when ordering food because my dish had cheese on it and even a piece of bacon. I didn’t want to make a scene because I’m no diva, especially in front of 20 people. I removed the vast majority of cheese with my spoon to the side of my plate and ate my risotto like a little bitch. Om-nom-nom. Not!

I was lucky to catch a ride back to Tallinn with Marget. I think I was quite tired and not too chatty in the car. I’m sorry. Maybe we talked about everything the last time we saw each other and not much has really happened in the last 2 months. Oh well, was good to see her… she always reminds me of Australia. And I love Australia.

I organized a quick meet with Erik and Reet too, just before leaving for the airport. We studied statistics at uni back in the day. One hour was not enough. I’m looking forward to seeing you guys again.

 

To be honest, I was quite happy to leave Estonia. Just two days before my arrival, Obama visited as well. He gave a speech and said that the USA and NATO will back the Baltic States if Russia decided to do something similar here as it did in Ukraine. A part of me didn’t feel safe in Estonia anymore.

Stay safe,

Ivar the Wedding Crasher

Bros before hoes

0
by

BrosBeforeHoes

A week ago I asked my female colleagues for a calculator. I needed one for my personal taxation (CII R03) exam which was on the following day. Normally I’d use my phone’s calculator but mobiles weren’t allowed during the exam. I asked one of the girls and she said no because she “was using it at the moment”. The second girl gave me the same answer. It felt a lot like as if I asked them for a kidney.

Yeah, sure you need a kidney and are using it at the moment. BUT a calculator… who? What? Why can’t you live a day without a handheld calculator?

I think this was strange. By the way I get along really well with them which makes it so weird.

Then I asked Steve who had no problem what so ever lending it to me. I should’ve asked my bro first. Go SteveO!

Exam day. I felt very confident I’d pass because this exam had a good bit of maths in it and I’m good at that. Turned out I failed the exam. I had too many questions about trust taxation which I knew was my weak spot but I thought they’d ask only one or two questions about it. I underestimated the importance of trusts and maybe was a bit unlucky with the exam I got.

I rebooked the exam for today. I did a bit of revising over the long weekend (Monday was a bank holiday) but didn’t feel any smarter than when I first took the exam.

I even went to my Latin dancing classes yesterday – a day before the exam – and came home late in the evening. Gotta know my priorities… The good news is that I passed. I’m a genius!

I really did feel quite good after the social yesterday. I had this little high from the evening. I think it’s because I decided to dance only with the ladies I have most fun with. And then I left on a high note. That high note stuff is powerful!

Some girls are absolutely amazing when it comes to technique, timing and remembering combos but they’re Nazis when it comes to mistakes or improvisation. It’s great to learn from these girls and they give fantastic feedback but they are dull dancing partners. I don’t aim to become a super fancy dancer, it’s entertainment and a hobby. I don’t take it too seriously. On many occasions I look forward to that moment when I mess up the steps and fix it with my own never-seen-before “styling elements”. That’s how I roll! Literally! A good bodyroll is a perfect comeback from any awkward and embarrassing situation. 😛

 

On a different note I will go to Estonia next week – my sister is getting married. This time my visit will last only 3 days which is great. I had mixed emotions about my previous 10 day visit, so this time I’ll keep it short and a bit more organized.

If you’d like to catch up in person and happen to be in Estonia 5-7 Sept, then send me a message on FB or comment below and let’s have a meet.

 

Ivar the Tax Professional

 

Home sweet home

0
by

Home sweet home

home-sweet-home

I once gave somebody some really good advice. Right now I find myself in a similar situation my friend was in. In fact I’ve been in this tight spot for almost 6 months. My friend wasn’t too happy with the place she was living in. My advice for her was to move out and find another place – problem solved. Too bad I’m too stupid to take my own bloody advice.

I’ve been living in a sharehouse for about 6 months and it’s not great. In fact it’s shit. This is the worst place I’ve ever lived in.

It’s funny how something so small can have such a big effect. Here’s what happened on my first week in this house. I woke up and went to the kitchen to make myself a banana and berry smoothie. I put everything into the blender and blended happily away. Then I heard steps coming from upstairs and Princess popped in in his underwear. It was 8 AM and it wasn’t pretty. I received an unhealthy dose of negative verbal feedback for my “crime” and was threatened he’d throw my blender away if I ever used it again at such an early time. Princess slammed the door and left to get his beauty sleep.

I was and still am disgusted by the way Princess handled the scene. It was my very first week in the house and I already received verbal threats and was yelled at. Asshole. Any normal person would’ve approached me in a calm way and asked me to wait a bit longer until I used the blender. You know.. act like a normal decent human… and then maybe have a glass of smoothie-goodness with me as well. But he chose to go all psycho on me. It must’ve been that time of the month…

That incident was quite traumatizing for me and I haven’t felt safe in the house ever since. I mean whenever I use the blender I always feel like I’m about to commit genocide. No matter what time it is, I don’t feel safe using the blender. I suck at dealing with threats.

The crap didn’t end there. It turns out that Princess likes everything done his way. For example I figured out I can’t put my washing into the washing machine before going to work and take it out once I get back (I’m usually the last one to leave the house in the morning and first one to come back). That idea didn’t fly with Princess. He said that would make the washing machine stink. I complied because I already knew what he’d be like if he lost his temper.

Another morning. This time it was a work day and around 7 or 7:30 AM. I was in the kitchen having breakfast and turned on the radio. The music wasn’t loud, just some background noise which I didn’t even notice. One or two minutes into my breakfast I heard loud and angry footsteps coming downstairs again. Princess came into the kitchen and first thing he did was turn off the radio. He was all huffing and puffing but didn’t say a word. Another 5-10 seconds of huffing and puffing and he went upstairs.

I think he realized what a dick he was but that was after he had already turned the radio off. He didn’t want to embarrass himself further and left. At least that’s what I’d like to think happened.

OK… no blending and no radio in the mornings. I can live with that, not a huge adjustment.

I came home once to just use the toilet and grab my wallet or something from my room and I left the front door unlocked. I figured I’d leave the house shortly anyway and there was no point in locking the door. As luck would have it Princess came home and the first thing he told me “the front door was unlocked”. OMG. Such a control freak. God forbid the front door was unlocked for 10 minutes. I didn’t stay to debate the issue because I was in a rush to leave the house.

Another thing I don’t like about Princess is his smoking. Smoking is not allowed in the house but he smokes on the window. The problem is that smoke comes right into my room when my windows are open (I like to keep my windows open in the summer). Why do I have to breathe in his second hand smoke? I did not sign up for this shit.

I understand that Princess might not like me but what’s the deal with the others? There have been several public holidays here and some guests were invited over for beers/lunch/dinner etc, but I was never on the guestlist. None of those social events were even mentioned to me. I believe that my housemates should’ve given me a heads up and for the very least offer me a beer or something. Not just ignore me. Who does that? I was not impressed.

There’s a girl who lives here as well and I’ve walked past her on the street a few times. I’ve said hi but she’s completely ignored me. Twice. She didn’t even look at me, just continued walking. What’s that all about?

Anyway, maybe she had a lot on her mind or had a busy day… whatever. It bothered me for a few weeks until I decided to make peace with it and accept it. If she wants to ignore me, that’s fine, I’ll respect that. On other occasions she’s said hi back and that’s all we’ve ever said to each other (and some other basic greetings). The way I see it, it’s a major improvement. Generally I think she’s a lovely girl with a very good taste in music.

Another night I came back home around midnight. My Latin dancing classes and the social end around 11 PM and I felt like having a snack before going to bed. I had some grapes in the fridge. I took ‘em out and started to wash them in the sink. The whole procedure took me a maximum of 30 seconds and then suddenly I heard footsteps on the stairs again. Now what? What did I do wrong this time?

To my surprise it wasn’t Princess who popped into the kitchen. It was FourEyes. He mumbled something for literally 3 seconds and then left. I did not understand a word he said. Maybe FourEyes was sleep-walking or something but I guess he came to complain about the noise I was making when I washed my grapes in the sink. Wow… running the tap at night must be a real crime against humanity.

The only roommate I like is Andrew. He’s very laid back and doesn’t bitch and whine about anything. All my other housemates have a lot to learn from him. I once invited him to try a Latin dancing class and he decided to give it a shot. Another time we went to play a bit of golf. He’s a good kid.

Yesterday I received a phone call from my landlord who asked me about how I was “mixing” with the other housemates. I didn’t beat around the bush and said I didn’t feel safe in the house, mostly because of Princess, his short temper and passive aggressiveness.

My landlord also said that he received a complaint about me “hoarding” the washing machine and asked what I was washing. The thing is that I do a bit of running training and need to wash my training clothes after each run. It’s because I only used to have one set of training clothes (I’ve slowly bought more in the last few months) and since I also hurt my left ankle a few weeks ago and haven’t done much running, my washing machine requirements have decreased dramatically.

What annoys me is that I had no idea I was causing anybody trouble with the washing machine. This was the first time I had heard of it. Why did the person report to the landlord instead of talking to me? Besides I always leave my empty laundry bag next to the machine, so that once the washing is done, all you need to do is take the stuff out and put it into the bag, then continue with your laundry. Basic stuff. My housemates haven’t been that mindful and on a couple occasions haven’t left a basket or laundry bag around… so I couldn’t take their washing out after the cycle finished. Not cool.

 

 

So. I think it’s time I took my own advice and moved out. I’ll be looking for a new place and hopefully can move out sooner rather than later.

 

Ivar the TroubleMaker

Some things never change

1
by

One guy from work had this genius idea that we should all go and watch cricket together. I thought it’s a good opportunity to get to know each other a bit more in a non-work environment and said yes. I wasn’t too excited about cricket because I remembered my last time I saw the game in Australia. It was boring as hell.

Friday arrived and after work I went to the game. I wasn’t too happy about it because there was a party at my dancing school. I’d rather go there than watch cricket. But hey… opportunities for social capital are few and far between.

Having extensive knowledge of my last cricket game experience I decided to buy a few drinks before I sat down. The logic I used was the same as when men consume alcohol to make the women look good again. Armed with my cider I bravely marched towards my seat of death by boredom.

Most of my other work mates were already there. They all knew I didn’t know much about the game. One guy explained me what it was all about and he did a great job. Now I know the gist of it but more knowledge didn’t do a thing to decrease the boredom.

I wanted to leave after the first half (alright that’s a lie, I wanted to leave after the first 10 minutes) but thought it would be rude to do so. So there I was – sitting in the sun, sweating like a pig, without sunglasses, trying to fake some interest but c’mon guys, nobody can fake for 3 hours. Nor did the alcohol help. I was glad when it ended. I walked home knowing that tomorrow would be a good day. How right I was…

Changing gears matafakas

Any way you want it, just the way you need it, any way you want it…

Epic Pause

 

Tomorrow – that awesome day I’ve been looking forward to – arrived. Canada called me and woke me up. She asked me where I was – we were supposed to meet up in London. I did a bit of planning and took the train.

By the way I met Canada in Australia (you should know that if you read my blog, if you don’t shame on you!!!). We went on a road trip on the east coast and watched an opera in the Sydney opera house back in the day.

She had not changed a bit. We spent the whole day doing touristy things – for example walked in Hyde Park and saw the Buckingham Palace. That was pretty much it. We didn’t really care much about that stuff… we only had eyes for each other. 😀 We also watched Godzilla. Man, that’s an awesome movie!!! I loved it!

I like that about London i.e the fact that I can still meet my friends from Australia. I guess the UK’s not that bad after all.

I was jealous of all her stories. She did a 2 month eurotrip. Hiked in the Alps and what not. My personal best marathon time and passing an exam was no match to her highlights. She inspired me. I need to spice up things a bit. I need action… I don’t know what I’ll do but I’m slowly dying here.

My good friend Einstein once said that you can’t expect to get different results by doing the same things. I need change. I want to feel alive again.

Rachel and me near the Buckingham thing

Rachel and me near the Buckingham thing

Looking normal

Looking normal

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times

1
by

The plan. I’ve been planning surprising my mom on her 50th birthday for quite some time. I had a vague idea of what I wanted to do – basically show up at her place on her birthday with flowers, presents and wish her a happy birthday. I’ve been away from Estonia since Dec 2011 – that’s about 2.5 years – I hope she still remembers who I am.

I’m writing this in the Riga airport in Latvia while waiting for a bus to Tartu, Estonia. It’s strange to be back in a place where the majority of people don’t speak English – it’s either Russian or Latvian. I’ve been living in English speaking countries and need to adjust to my new (or should I say old?) surroundings.

The flight from Stansted (London) to Riga Airport sucked balls. It was freezing at the airport and there was nowhere to sit to wait for your flight except on the cold floor. All benches were full of people either sleeping or dozing off. The floor it is, I decided decidedly in a decisive manner.

You might have figured out that I had an early flight. Congratulations Sherlock! The lesson I learned from all this is that I should never show up at the airport before the bag drop counters for my flight open up.

I feel a bit like Santa at the moment. I’ve got a bag full of presents for my family. I hope they like ‘em.

I did a good job keeping my plans a secret. Only my sister and a few VIP friends know I’m nearby. My baby sister will “hide” me at her castle for a few days (my mum’s birthday is in 3 days). In the meantime I’ll try to spend some quality time with my niece Vanessa who was born when I was on the other side of the planet. I’ve got high expectations: I plan to teach her to do a cartwheel, double salto, a few headstands while juggling 7 balls with her left hand and doing my taxes with her right hand on a “dumb” phone.

The bus trip. I. Hate. Latvia. Alright, I don’t hate the whole country, I hate its buses and roads and its airport. First of all I had to wait 5 hours for my bus and then had to prepare myself for another 5 hour bus journey. I believe it took me about 2.5 hours to fly from London to Riga (1691 km in a straight line) and now this 244 km trip will take twice as long. Welcome to Eastern Europe.

On the bright side the bus had a free Wifi connection and an outlet for my laptop. There were also tablets on the back of each seat. I took advantage of that and watched two movies. GrownUps 2 was hilarious – it was so funny my laughter was disturbing the peace of my fellow travellers. ‘twas a jolly good ride, me mates!

The second half of my bus journey was slow and just as entertaining as watching grownup men running around on a field chasing each other and trying to kick a ball.

I spent the next few days at my sister’s place in Tartu. I enjoyed my first day there a lot. The highlight was my long lunch with Erik and Liina. It was easy to talk to them because they’ve travelled the world a bit as well. I look forward to seeing them again.

 

Big 50. All the kids got together and drove off to see my mum. I had several ideas about what would happen once my mum saw me. What followed was not a huge American style expression of joy at all. What happened was a lot like a train leaving Liverpool station at 6:32 AM with an average speed of 60 km/h moving towards another train from Manchester leaving its station at 6:44 towards Liverpool at an average speed of 55 miles/h. That’s how dramatic our reunion was! That’s as good as it gets in Estonia.

I quickly discovered how out of place I was. To be fair I re-discovered it. Basically everybody was talking and I wasn’t. I felt how different I was from everybody else.  After my mums birthday I already wanted to leave. I remembered some of the reasons why I left back then.

ESTrip. Me and me mates went to Hiiumaa and it was awesome!!! Me, Pete, Olav and Siim rented a cabin in the dark and scary forest of Hiiumaa. Naturally we engaged in social drinking and banter and did a bit of “sightseeing”.

There’s not much to see in Hiiumaa except a few lighthouses and a military museum (I wasn’t a fan of either “attractions”). If I had to pick a favourite it would be the Eiffel Tower. See the video below.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lloMOWHgpiA

Basically it’s the prototype of the Eiffel Tower in Paris. First it was built in Hiiumaa and then the evil Russian communist pigs stole the blueprints and lost them after a party in Paris. A French janitor/hobby-artist found the blueprints in an empty vodka bottle (back in the day the Russians’ most secure means of communication was by message in a bottle). That janitor’s name was Eiffel, he built the tower for his exhibition and the rest is history.

I spent my last two uneventful days at my brother’s place. I believe I was a lot of trouble for him because he had to take me to a vegetarian/vegan restaurant and it wasn’t easy to find one (I was happy with the 3rd place we went to). In the future I’ll opt for a cafe and order a black coffee – I did’t enjoy being a “problem”.

A glimpse of Australia. Just a few hours before catching my plane back to the UK I decided to see if I had any friends in Tallinn to arrange a catch up meeting. I was very lucky to see Marget again (I met her in Australia). I noticed that she didn’t have the same vibe (or lack of any vibe whatsoever) as other Estonians did. She was energetic, cheerful and radiant – completely out of place. She reminded me of so many things I miss about Australia. It was great to reminiscence.

This trip to Estonia made me realize how lucky I really am. I’ve seen, lived and experienced so much which wasn’t possible in my tiny home country. Going back felt a lot like falling asleep for 2.5 years and then waking up – nothing had changed about the country. I think I’ve changed or maybe I just see the world through a different lense.

Oh the humanity

0
by

Human nature baffles me. I just don’t understand some things. Here’s  an example: I washed my bed linen and the blanket cover, then put it on the line to dry but when I went to take it off it was already gone. Somebody (I suspect my housemates) took my stuff (to be fair it’s technically not my stuff – I found the linen and blanket cover in a closet near the TV-room on the day I moved in, and I’ve had it for 3 months). Still, “my” stuff was taken and not even a peep about who did it. I understand if you want to do the right thing and take my washing off the line before it starts raining or something… but just taking it like that… there’s no good reason why somebody would do that. I’ve looked for my bed linen and they’re nowhere – any rational person would put them into an easily to find place for the other housemate to find it. Anywho… I don’t even want to get it back, I hope the thief (or rightful owner) will get sleep apnea while under that blanket cover and is taken straight to hell to burn in the eternal fire of Hades with the power of a thousand Suns.

Hell

(I like the pic. It looks like the skeletons are dancing and the volcanoes remind me of New Zealand…. so I guess it’s a NZ party hell!!!)

Oh well…. I decided to let that fantasy of having good decent housemates go and bought new linen and a blanket/pillow cover. Problem solved!

You might think that the above is a pseudo issue but it caused me a lot of anger and frustration. Why? Why? Oh the humanity, just tell me why would anybody do such a thing?

 

Running. My training is going really well but I’m nowhere I want to be with my speed yet. I’ve discovered that during my long runs  I’m OK the first 25 km. After that my heart rate goes above my upper limit (149) very easily and it’s difficult/impossible to keep a good pace with a heart rate below 149. It might be a hydration thing… or maybe the day gets gradually too hot for me during my run?

Two days ago I ran a marathon – it wasn’t a race, just a training run. My goal was to finish in less than 4 hours. It was a beautiful day and the first 25-27 km went really well. Then it became difficult to keep my heart rate below 149 and I decided to ignore it. The last 10-12 km weren’t pretty – average heart rate around 160 which didn’t feel good. I also passed one of my colleagues from work. It was good to have somebody cheer me on on my marathon. I kept going and finished in 3:55:02.

You’d think I was happy about it but that’s not the case. I didn’t experience any joy from achieving my time goal. My brain immediately told me …”oh whoop-dee-doo, it took you 1 year to shave off 10 minutes from your marathon time”. Plus I felt like crap because I kept my heart rate near 160 for about an hour. Maybe I’m depressed? Maybe I can’t feel positive emotions anymore?

I don’t feel depressed… but maybe I’m in denial? – There’s no way to win this debate.

 

Today was another great day. I’m studying for exams which are required to become a financial adviser. These exams turned out to be much harder than I anticipated. Earlier today I took the first exam (it’s called R01) and passed it.  One down, eleven more to go!

 

Ivar the Adviser

Pollution of Trust

2
by

Remember the fiasco about the room I “rented” from Turkey? I filed a fraud case with the police (ActionFraud) more than a month ago and here’s what they wrote last week:

Your report has been assessed by the National Fraud Intelligence Bureau (NFIB) and the information you provided has enabled the police to take action to disrupt the activities of suspected criminals. This activity can be in the form of requests to suspend or take down:

• Fraudulent websites or email accounts,

• Telephone numbers,

• Bank accounts or foreign currency exchange accounts.

It can take time for disruption requests to be fully processed, so please be assured that this activity is in progress and that no further action is required on your part. You should not hear from us again in relation to this case, unless further analysis by the NFIB links your report to another crime in the future, in which case we will contact you to provide details of that referral.

I don’t know what to think of the letter. I don’t care about suspended telephone numbers or email accounts – I just want to get my money back. My trust in the police has reached a record low.

On another note: my relationship with Maria also ended. I can’t say I didn’t see it coming (after all she lives on the other side of the planet) but what made me very angry was that she didn’t tell me. I had to find out on my own. Since moving to the UK when I was asked if I had a gf I always said yes… but it turns out I was lying. She’s been seeing someone else for months.

All I wanted to do was to hurt her back, to break something or blow something up. That went on for a few days until I cooled down.

Maybe it’s for the best anyway: I was quite stressed and unhappy in my first month in the UK and adding bad news would’ve made everything worse. So maybe finding out the truth months later was a blessing in disguise.

I hope she’s happy. I truly do. I will remember the joy she introduced to my life and keep the good memories. Good bye!

“There is no real ending. It’s just the place where you stop the story.” ― Frank Herbert

Full stop.

First month in Chelmsford

0
by

Chelmsford_sign

Life is very quiet here, I’m not really doing anything exciting. The highlight of my week is Tuesday evening when I take my Latin dancing classes. It’s good to spin those girls and dance with noobs. The last time I twisted a girl’s arm a bit (I wasn’t trying to do anything fancy, she just wasn’t following) and we learned some dips which were very entertaining because the girls don’t trust me to hold their weight in my big muscular arms :D. Oh… sometimes I wish I could do a dip 😀    Nope. Not really.

 

I resumed my running training. So far I’ve run 53, 59, 59 and 65 km per week. I also bought a heart rate monitor after doing some research. I read an article Want speed? Slow down! by Phil Maffetone.  That article convinced me to give it a shot so I bought the heart rate monitor. Basically the whole idea is to run at or slightly below your maximum aerobic heart rate (180-age-5 if injured) and build your running base. In time your body will be able to run faster while keeping the same heart rate. So far I’ve only run 3 times with my HRM and I’m slowly getting used to the feeling of running at the correct heart rate.

By the way the roads were better in Brisbane for running. Also Brisbane had lots of bats but here we’ve got many squirrels and birds who sometimes scare the crap out of me on my runs. For the record… I’m not afraid of those little creatures per se, it’s just that sometimes they fly out of the bush making all kinds of noise when you least expect it. I’m sure these little bastards are the real reason why some runners get heart attacks and die on their runs.

If you remember in a previous post I wrote that I got a job at a financial advice company (technically it’s an IFA – independent financial advisor). You might recall that I needed to pass a series of exams if I wanted to become an IFA. Let’s just say that I started studying for my first exam. I haven’t booked an exam date (you can take the exam every week or so) yet since I’m new to the financial services regulatory world in the UK – my first exam will be in markets, ethics and regulation. Once I feel a bit more confident I’ll take the exam.

 

I’ve lost weight since I left Australia. I was 80 kg when I left Brisbane. Two months in New Zealand shaved off 5 kgs and now since I’ve started training I’ve lost another 3 kgs. Today in the morning I weighed 72 kg. I need to start eating more crap!!!

I remember Vera (the German girl I travelled with in NZ) once told me her New Year’s resolution. She said with that cute cheeky smile of her’s… “What if this year I’ll do the exact opposite of what I normally do? This year my resolution is to get fat!” 😀   I just laughed because I thought that was such a ridiculous idea. Usually people get fat because they’re lazy as fuck – not because they want to. But hey… I wish her luck with her endeavors.

 

Alright back to the UK. I still haven’t received my money back from Turkey. Yesterday I filed a fraud report and hope that this will help me get my funds back. Long shot, I know. The last message from Turkey said that his mother died and he’s in Turkey blah-blah-blah… besides that he’s been ignoring all of my messages from the last 2 weeks. Turkey has my UK bank account details and could’ve made the transfer any day. He’s being a dick about it and that’s why I opened the fraud case.

 

I have days when all I do is wish to be back in Australia. The other day I saw a girl on a scooter and my heart skipped a beat or two because I thought it was Maria. Awwwww, shut up! Every now and then my Australian friends share an update or a video on WhatsApp and all that triggers so many memories of my life in Brisbane. It was a good chapter. A chapter I’d like to visit again.

Ivar the Dreamer

Getting over the hump

0
by

The level of bureaucracy in London is huge. It took me almost 2 months to open a bank account here. You might think that all you need to do is just walk into a bank with some ID an voila they’ll open your new account. Not that easy.

Banks here want two things: ID and proof of address. The ID bit is easy – a passport will do fine. Proving your address is difficult. I’ve already lived in 4 different places in London – I couchsurfed, stayed with a friend’s friend’s friend, shared a room in North London and now I’m living in Chelmsford, Essex.

I had several options for proving my address:

A utility bill (can’t be a mobile phone bill) – it takes time to get and in my case was a hard sale. I kept moving from one place to another. My landlords weren’t too excited about this idea.

National Insurance number letter – Barclays bank allows to use this letter as proof of address. It took me 4 weeks after the interview to get my NI number (I also had to wait 3 weeks for the interview in the first place). They posted the letter to my old North London address. Since it wasn’t my current address I didn’t use it. Might work, might not.

Tenancy agreement – my current landlord in Chelmsford provided me with a tenancy agreement but that wasn’t good enough for the banks. Since it wasn’t from a housing association they treated it as a private agreement and thus it was insufficient.

Bank statement – All I needed to do was change the address in my current bank and order a paper statement. On the downside it might take a while until you receive the statement (I had an Australian bank – CBA). I actually got my statement in about 5 working days – two days too late because I found another way to open a bank account. So I’m not sure if this option works or not for proving your address.

Letter from employer – this one worked for me. Obviously you need to find work first. All you need is a signed paper where your employer confirms you work for him/her with your current address. It needs to be printed on the company’s official paper (with logos, addresses etc).

This marvel document enabled me to book an appointment to open my bank account. Mhm… you can’t just walk in and open one – even if you have all the documents. My Chelmsford HSBC branch’s first available appointment was in 2 weeks time. So I asked them to schedule an appointment in any other branch in London to get it done ASAP. I got an interview for the next day on Oxford St.

I went to the branch and gave the guy my documents. He went to a backroom, scanned my papers and a bit later said he can’t open my account. It was because the letter from my employer had some pixelation problems in the bottom area – the address was printed in a small font and some dots were missing –  “anybody could’ve printed it” – a ridiculous reason to stop this process. It felt a lot like “I can’t open the account because I don’t like your face”. I rang my employer and she had a word with the bank’s representative. Then the man went to the back again, spoke to his auditor and five nervous minutes later he was happy to open my account.

You might think I was happy about that…but in reality I was just very annoyed. It was such a pain in the ass to open the account though I’m glad this bureaucratic nightmare is over.


 getting-over-the-hump

I was listening to a podcast the other day. A guy was talking about helping people relocate to other countries. Anywho he said that it usually takes about 2 months to get over the humps of living in a new country. After that things will get better.

If I look at it that way I’m doing quite well. I’ve got a job (woohoooo positive cashflow!!!), have a NI number, UK bank account and a place to live. Soon I’ll have a social life as well – I took 2 Latin dancing lessons earlier this week, met a bunch of people and had a good time. I’m glad the venue is only a 10 minute walk from home. I can’t wait to go back again.

Ivar