The London Chronicles Weekend Edition: Field Trip to Bletchley Park or 158 Million Million Million

Sometimes, the planets align really nicely, to make you experience things that are extraordinary. As someone who works in security and tech, Bletchley Park  was the first thing I penciled in as a "must-do" over the weekend.   In anticipation, I went to the Barbican and watched the movie on Friday night.   I already had a membership to the Barbican and was curious about its Brutalist architecture. I am looking forward to coming back next year for CumberHamlet (it should be amazing, or it better be, as I stayed up until 4am to score those tickets, but I digress).  I had a few minutes to kill before the movie, so after having some pre-film dinner, I wandered around, and came across the London branch of my alma mater having some sort of social.

The movie was really good. It felt a bit rushed towards the end, but all the actors did a fine job of portraying their characters (although, I'm sorry but Samwise will always be Samwise, until he learns other facial expressions). 

The script was well written, 4 stars, would see it again.   After the movie, I went back to my temporary home as I had an early train to catch with a coworker. Side note:  Londoners do not knit in public. A few curious people came by to ask me what I was knitting (wrap), and if I'm a good knitter (debatable).

I couldn't sleep after the movie because I was too excited about my excursion. 

We took the train from Euston to Bletchley, and I had a great guide (my coworker who'd visited Bletchley 8 months ago with another friend/colleague).  We talked about work on the way for about 45 minutes, then talked about different paths we took that allows us to work together, which is extraordinary in itself - a Romanian soon to be UK citizen and a Japanese American (1st gen).  2014 isn't such a bad time afterall?  We talked about slave nations and personalities, and by the time we got to Bletchley I was ready for some fresh air.   

Apparently, the whole park was renovated recently thanks to Google and other sponsors (coughGCHQcough), and it was very well manicured, although the "huts" were tiny and damp. Some of the huts were more colder and draftier than others, and it was amazing to stand where the codebreakers once stood, many of them who took their secrets to the grave, and marvel at the brainpowers they harnessed. They were also running an AI contest based on the Turing test, which looked like a lot of fun.

I won't spoil too much in case you are planning to visit - but the Colossus (in the National Museum of Computing next door) and the Bombe rebuild is a must-see.  The docents and volunteer guides are really dedicated and happy to tell you tidbits of history and answer all sorts of questions.  Also note to the gift shop: You need moar (better) T-shrits!  Sell those ties and scarves!  My colleague and I spent the entire time scheming how to convince one of the workers to give it up. I bought a lot of books here.   They also spent time cracking Japanese code, which was very fascinating. It's one of the most difficult languages to master, and these people shortened a 5yr lesson into 11 weeks or so. Seeing their practice notebooks and flashcards and pencil writing of kanji characters really made them feel, well, real.  

Oh, and we also had a celebrity sighting!  Mr. James May of Top Gear fame. He seemed to be filming a segment for his Science show. I look forward to catching it on BBCAmerica when I return. 

We stayed for 6 hrs yet we ran out of time. I'm definitely going back.

The trains here run pretty reasonably, but wow the apologies!  The transit system actually apologises when it's late. "We are sorry that this train is running approximately 11 minutes late...we are very sorry". DK would feel right at home about this, if only he wasn't Canadian. 

I will now kill you with pictures, because I'm too lazy to type in 1k more words. 

Still in love with St.Pancras

Birthday pub lunch!

Meat the Pieminister! 

Inside Barbican Centre

Marvelous! 

Architects' tools 

I wonder if kids today use compasses

Architects send the BEST holiday greetings IMHO

My glamourous pre-movie dinner

why?

It's like being inside the white lodge

Sweet ride

Enigma

Japanese Dictionary

The Turing Bombe Rebuild Project 

Photographic Evidence 

Geekery

Almost like a Vegas spinwheel

Delicious on the inside

Mihai charms the lady

My favorite - a handmade Monopoly board to beat Turing

Turing's Bear

Oars

The perfect Billetee

Step Inside

He chained his tea mug to the radiator so nobody would use it

they have a room dedicated to carrier pigeons! 

Proud Pigeon Champion 

Sorry, What am I Supposed to Do Again?  

Solitary

The Boss' chair

When Can I Move In? 

I could totally do this 

The Mansion

That "object" is a dead animal 

Costumes and props from the Imitation Game 

Keira Knightley and Benedict Cumberbatch's costumes 

The bar set 

Handmade star chart

Turing killed himself with an apple laced with cyanide

The Machine Prop and I 

Hardware porn

Look at this!  LOOK! 

You called? 

Let's just hoist this thing over here...yup, easy peasy

The London Chronicles Day 12 : In Which I Fly on Emirates Air Line

Today I went to a conference near the outer banks of London, which involved taking all sorts of transport. Northern -->  Jubilee --> Emirates Air. Yup, took a quick detour to Qatar. No, not really. Instead I got to ride the Air Line, remnants of the London Olympic.  Readers who know me in real life (RWKMIRL, as I affectionately call them) may be very aware that I am incredibly afraid of heights. In particular, I am terrified of being in confined space with transparent walls and floors that go up really high, and wobbles unexpectedly.

I used to not be like this. I don't know why, but it just keeps getting worse.  I now choose aisle seats on planes, and the sight of ferris wheels makes my palms sweaty.  So when my coworker cheerfully suggested that we take Emirates, I was confused, but nodded, because I don't want to be rude. Maybe Emirates is a nickname for the District Line? How would I know? I'm not a real Londoner, and every time I attempt to say anything, the Brit coworker cringes.  So there we went, up and down the Tube stairs and escalators,  to find out that Emirates Air Line, is this. 

Lovely. So lovely. 

"Pretend you're going skiing!"

I confessed my fear of heights as the doors shut on the death grape thingy.  She was very kind and stayed very still so as not to freak me out further by vigorously shaking the thing.  Had I been less fortunate (i.e. ride with a certain portion of my male coworkers), I probably would have been screaming to kill them mid-way.  I tried to relax. I asked her to keep lying to me that it's almost over. She took pictures of me faking it till I make it. It worked. Nobody (=me) died.  

The conference itself was a wash, but one of the booths had a mini golf pad so my coworker and I ended up having ferocious competitive putter fights. I won by a shot.

Tasty (huge) pizza!
How do you stay so slim, London? 

Fake it 'til you make it! 

So much laser and bass! 

I also went to see Perfume at the Hammersmith Apollo yesterday. 4th row, center!  Way too close to the hardest working ladies in EDM!  They were adorable - like dolls that just sprang to life, although at this range you can see how exhausted they must be from all the touring.  It was touching to see many fans from all over the world (lots of Japanese, but lots more Euro-fans, too, all screaming out lyrics and Japanese words they know).  All in all, a fun night!

The London Chronicles: Sandwiches

I'm running off to a conference, brb. In the meantime, enjoy the art of British sandwich making. So cool to be in a country of artisans!

The London Chronicles: British Marketing = Amaze

As a fan of British mystery,  I've been wondering when I'll get to see people running after villains or discover hidden stairways between bookcases, but so far that hasn't happened yet. Instead, there's a ton of US cop shows (like NCISEIOIO or Law & Order.  Come on, US lawyers don't even wear wigs! Boring!). The corpse is greener on the other side?  Something like that.  

So, there's not much action to report on a daily basis now that I've figured out the transport (just roll with it) and working in between. I am trying not to eat at the same place twice, but I might have to break that rule already as my coworker took me to the best gelateria in town.  Bocca Di Lupo (mouth of the wolf), apparently one of the best Italian places in Soho, has a gelato store across the street.  I had a mint stracciata and pumpkin cinnamon, and ate it before I took any photographic evidence. It was heaven.  I'm pretty sure I'll fill the buy 10, get 1 free card pretty quickly (and how cute is their graphic design!?).

Next flavour: Licorice & Salted Caramel 

It seems like there are more coffee places than tea shops.  Soho has some great ones. Nude, which is on the same block as my office, is great, and there are gorgeous girls who work there (and in-office crushes to match). Monmouth Coffee is crowded but also really good. I didn't think I'd buy beans in London, but I might have to.  I also have my order down (Flat White, 1 sugar).  Nude girls make it with sugar, and Monmouth makes you add it later.

Last night, after wandering the streets with my ever-patient coworker who took me to a pinxos place for dinner, we walked up and down Oxford Street to look at the Christmas windows.  Wow. I've never seen so much glitter (glass glitter, I think) in one place.  Selfridges had a fairy tale theme, while John Lewis had their famous penguins.   I learned about the meerkats, too.  British Marketing = Amazing.

Side note :  My dress code in London is "villain". I studied the Jaguar ads, so now I'm an expert. My stylish coworker hugged me upon arrival and said "You're assimilated",  so I think I blend in. But, wow, people definitely dress differently here. I dress about as sexy as a piece of cardboard compared to the ladies here, who teeter delicately on pinheels and have theatre-ready makeup, leaving a cloud of perfume in their wake.  You'd probably really stand out like that at 1st & Market, but on Tottenham Court Road, you'd be part of the scenery.  The men here are not afraid to wear color (pink, watermelon, sky blue, duck yellow, are acceptable pants colors here. Not just yacht pants), or mix and match patterns. It's really daunting. I prefer to wear black and work behind the scenes.

My favorite window, with Rodarte Star Wars dresses! 

Ridiculously huge meringue

Islington Fire Station. A study in symmetry and accordion

The London Chronicles: Armistice Day

The people here wear a poppy to commemorate those who died in the wars.  It reminds me of the red feather pins people wear in Japan around this time of year (although that one's for regional charity).  Both of my grandfathers were in WWII, and two of my uncles had a military career.  I've been watching the installation they have at the Tower of London - glass poppies, 888, 246 of them, to commemorate the allied dead from the WWI.  The tower looks like it's bleeding out, and the effect is staggering. You can read more about it here.

It's a working Tuesday here (Armistice Day). We went out last night as the CTO of our company was also in town, and had really tasty Peruvian.  The pisco sour was also really good - I finished it, and I was able to hold it pretty well, which all points to a good #lushvember, where I'm trying to build up tolerance.  If I believe wikipedia, people with an acetaldehyde deficiency are prone to late-onset Alzheimers, so I better start fighting that by getting drunk and then forgetting about it all later.  I've also had a few requests from the Motherland to bring back some tasty gin (and fancy tea, like Lapsung Fucking Souchong), so I do need to know where all the bars/gins/cocktail places are. Fortunately, I'm in good hands here. The office is so multinational, I love it. The Brits are outnumbered, and conversation veers towards lining up our differences and laughing over them. It's also bringing me back to a smaller startup feeling, where everyone has to do everything, which has its perks and downsides.

What I really love though, is that I'm NEVER late for work here. The timezone differences makes it easy for me to be 5-6 hrs ahead (ok, technically 8, but I sleep in) of my friends on the West Coast, so I don't have that dreaded rush in the morning.

The London Chronicles Week 1.5: Learning the Language

I'm doing what any alien would do when they're thrown into new surroundings - watching TVelly and picking up local customs and languages. 

t-5 seconds to pronouncing her name  

Here's what I've learned so far. 

"I'm shattered" - 3 EMT trainees from the Midlands said this after their shifts, so I assume this means they're tired, not devastated. Or both. 

"cracking" - The weather forecaster cheerfully announced "It's going to be a cracking day!".  I assume this means I need to hurry? Get cracking? Get crack to get cracking? 

Also, there's an onslaught of Christmas commercials on repeat, because there's no 'merican buffer of Thanksgiving in existence here.  So we just go straight into the magic and sparkle of Christmas. This M&S ad was cute the first time I saw it, but after viewing it 50 times you wonder where the other faeries are, and why they still use timecards. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uhuadZHqwwA

The London Chronicles Week 1: Haddocks Are Huge

Darwin Lived Here

I've been in London for almost a week now, and happy to say that I've managed to survive so far, although I have not yet succeeded in waking up before 9 AM or falling asleep before 1 AM.  I've been warned by colleagues that the apartment/hotel I'm staying at will be on the "Ground Floor" which is an elaborate way of saying basement. It reminds me of Laverne & Shirley's joint, but with less interesting foot traffic.

Most of the week was spent mainly getting used to the new environments (glass and paper are recycled but al-eww-minium is not), realizing I have to pretty much walk everywhere, and coping with all sorts of joint pain (I'm Forever29 but my joints are 59) you enjoy after a 10hr flight in the middle seat with a lovely chav chap laughing at the entertainment out loud every 15 minutes, and an adorable 9 yr old and her Dad from Shropshire who kept flailing her limbs at me while she slept (this was more forgivable, although she nearly stuck her hand in my mouth at one point).   I was really tired after the adrenaline from the first few days of survival mode wore off, and it didn't help that the Cumberengagement was announced 2 days after my arrival, making it very clear that I did not arrive in Fairytale London (TM).

I usually am pretty good at being places on time, especially for work, but London Transport was determined to make a monkey out of me.  It doesn't help that the wifi at the apartment is shot.  Day 1 saw me clocking in at 90 minutes from apartment to work, but by Day 3-4, I managed to at least figure out the minimum way to get from apartment to work and reliably back using something other than my animal homing instincts and bat signals.  I am enjoying the view from the upper deck on the London bus, although getting off at stops means I do a full-hurtle body slam down the narrow stairs and pray I roll out of the door on time. The buses here are way cleaner than good old MUNI.  I even tried the Tube and survived, despite claustrophobia (it seems to get worse every year), but I think I'll stick to the bus for regular transport.            

Laverne & Shirley's apartment

The weekend started off well - I went to the British Library to see the "Terror and Wonder: The Gothic Imagination" exhibit, which had a lot of precious books on display, and a good number of goths and non-goths in attendance. The gift shop was a little bland, but I enjoyed looking at Beardsley's illustrations, learning about The Castle of Otranto, and hearing Neil Gaiman (in video) talking about bravery. If memory serves, he said he used to get scared a lot when he was a child and hated it, because he thought he wasn't being brave, that being brave amounted to being not scared. Then, in his mid-30s he realized that being brave wasn't not being scared, but being scared but still doing the right thing anyway, and that is what he wants to teach his children.  Amen.  I then went on to drool at their floor to ceiling bookshelves and books. 

Afterwards I decided to go on a busing adventure, and hopped on the next bus that took me to Notting Hill Gate.  I avoided the busy streets as much as I can (weekends!), and found a little restaurant that looked nice and quiet, facing a row of extremely color coordiated pastel houses (I imagine  there'd be murder if new neighbours insisted on painting theirs neon or black).  I timidly asked if they seated people at this odd hour (3pm) and a nice guy who looked like a cross between a sweeter version of Gordon Ramsay and David Beckham (complete with that topknot hairstyle) in an apron came to the door and ushered me in, saying "It's Saturday! We seat all day! Anything goes on a Saturday!".  I got a nice cozy corner seat with a view out the window, and since it was a seafood restaurant, I ordered fish & chips.  They had choices of fish, so I casually ordered the haddock. I hadn't had haddock (say that 5 times, fast) as fish and chips yet. Mr. Ramsay-Beckham asked "The haddock?", and I said yes.  A group of women came in shortly after, and 2 of them ordered haddock. I felt smug, thinking that this was the right choice, how can 50% of a group of ladies be wrong? The waiter came by and offered a vegetable side to go with it, and I took him up on it because when you're traveling, you don't refuse vegetables. I always feel like I don't eat enough of those, anyway.  So I got a side of spinach, and was ready. Or so I thought.

The haddock, it turns out, is HUGE.  It didn't fit on the plate.  I tried, and failed, to make a dent in that thing. Apparently in the kitchen, they were having a jolly good laugh, because every waitstaff that came out after that was trying hard not to giggle at my face.  "Enjoy your food then", said a young chef bringing out a small cocotte of spinach. "I heard you couldn't handle the haddock? At least the cappuchino's on the house", smiled the barman.  On top of that, it was pouring rain outside.  Mr. Ramsay-Beckham came by, and I was worried he might yell at me for wasting a perfectly good fish (and it was delicious, I just couldn't summon up enough appetite between the jet lag and travel fatigue and general alertness from being some place foreign). He instead told me that the next time I come here, the fish will be on the house, and that I might go with the cod, it's smaller (wink-wink).   The food was delicious, and the people were really nice, so I may yet return, and yes, lesson learned: Haddock = HUGE.

Now, back to my apartment to see if I can figure out euro-washers.  xo, M. 

My Lifeline,  the bivalve card

The View from the Office

I'm in love with St.Pancras Station

British Library

books as far as the neck will crane

Posh Water

So nice of you to join me! 

The Haddock Before

The Haddock After (I ate another sliver after this, I swear!)