Sunday, 29 August 2010

Blog Comments

To those of you who may have been trying to make comments at the end of any of these posts, I'm very sorry I accidentally set up my profile in such a way to block reader comments. Steve brought it to my attention and now I have fixed the problem, so you are all welcome to leave any comment you wish. :) Cheers!

House Hunt

The last few days have been a blur of house viewings. Some of you, dear readers, will wonder to yourselves, "Why are they viewing houses? Didn't they already find a place to live?"
Yes--we do have a short term rental lined up (we'll move in on Tuesday) but we have been viewing houses to purchase since we had some in-processing days assigned to us. We have looked at old houses, and brand new houses, attractive houses, and horribly disgusting houses. Many of them made us wonder aloud to each other once safely sealed back into our car, "Why on this earth would someone put paisley carpet in her livingroom?"
We've viewed houses in Mildenhall (the little village just outside of Lakenheath) and Bury St. Edmunds which we love but is a little far. Friday we saw 6 different properties and to be honest, although I wasn't crazy about any of them, they all started to look exactly the same.
There is one house that I have absolutely fallen in love with--it's a beautiful three story townhouse in Mildenhall. We have one more hopeful house to view tomorrow night, so we'll have to see what happens in the next few weeks with this international house buying stuff. Should be interesting, especially considering the dual nature of the house choosing process.
We are looking for a house that serves two imporant and distinct purposes: it must be a place that Travis and Lego and I can comfortably, happily inhabit for the next 3.5 years. Perhaps more importantly though, it must be the sort of house with long-term American rental appeal. If we choose to let* it out for a few years after we leave England, it will be easiest for us to use the military network for marketing and managing the property. This means we'd most likely be letting to an Americn couple/family, and the house should be a) close to the base(s) and b) have the general features that make Americans choose one rental over another (ie more than two bedrooms, more than one bathroom, rooms larger than 6x6 etc.) British houses are very small and cramped; it's difficult for incoming Americans to adjust to a drastically different house style than what they're used to. "American" style houses let much more easily here than older style English ones.
[*that's "rent" to you Yanks.]

A new friend and I drove down to IKEA in London yesterday to get a few things for outfitting the horrible little rental that we will soon be occupying. We plan to have the Air Force hold on to our household items until we move into our purchased home (hopefully this fall) so we won'y have any sheets, blankets, dishes etc. and the only clothes we have are the ones brought over in suitecases from Texas.
We needed exactly two plates, two bowls, two drinking glasses, one large frying pan with cover, and a set of silverware. (We are preparing to put down a sizable down payment for our new house and wastefullness is not tolerated in our family these days--buying the entire set of silverware was a splurge that I can only attribute to my low blood sugar at the time...probably because I hadn't had breakfast in an attempt at frugality.)
IKEA was, as always, a lovely experience, and we found all the things we required. As a matter of fact, I was able to find the same set of dishes which Travis and I use as our actual daily plates, which were packed up during the move. I bought two additional matching drinking glasses etc, so that rather than having one random tiny set of dishes that don't match anything else, I can simply add our newly purchased set of two into our larger set when it arrives and is unpacked into our new home. That made me feel pretty good about myself...!

We are missing all of you and though we are having a wonderful time, we're feeling a bit alone in our little corner of the world. Will probably be much better when we start actual work next week and we get to know the other Air Force people around. Talk to you soon!

Tuesday, 24 August 2010

Automobile Drama

Yesterday, we found a car--that's right, we are now no longer British car renters. We own a righthanded car. The story is not pretty, but here it is:
We knew we would eventually need a second car, even after my Corolla arrives and is legally converted to British standards (headlights and mandatory fog lights etc), so we decided to try to save ourselves a little moolah and buy a cheap, get-you-from-here-to-there kind of car. No specific requirements, except that we were hoping to be able to use said beater car to haul the tandem bicycle from here to there, if need be, and we weren't willing to pay much for it.
We looked at cars on base--sold by military people to military people, usually upon the occasion of leaving the country. They tend to be inexpensive, as their owners must be rid of them quickly before they PCS out of the base. We saw a few that met our criteria, but two or three of them had already left the country with no forwarding information--not helpful. We were running out of time on our rental agreement and would have to either renew or return the car, so yesterday--on the day the rental car was due--we took a last-ditch drive around the villages which surround the base, hoping to see cars on the side of the road for sale.
This was wildly successful--we saw numerous cars and called numerous owners, deciding that--barring any red flags--we would buy the car we could resonably purchase the fastest. We reached a human being when we called the owner of a dark green Volvo hatchback and prompty met him for brief test drive. The owner was kind enough to recognize the pouring rain, and chilly weather; he had the car running and all heated up in anticipation of our arrival. Travis liked the handling, I liked the color, and--voila!--we decided we had to have it. At only 695 pounds it was within our budget and has plenty of room in the back for Lego to ride in style.
The only problem was payment. How were we supposed to pay this gentleman 695 pounds, since only very few British ATMs will accept an American card and those that do will only give so much at one time, not to mention the limit set by our bank on withdrawls from ATMs? We may have looked shady, but we drove in the rain, from ATM to ATM, collecting as much as we could on each of our cards until we had the money (in small denominations--we surely looked like drug dealers) and returned to our Volvo.
The owner handed us the keys and paperwork; we handed him a wad of cash, and he was off. We thought ourselves so lucky--we still had half an hour before the rental was due and it was only just around the block! We'd saved ourselves the hassle and expense of renting the car for another week--how savvy and smart we are!!
We realized only after the new car wouldn't start--still in the pouring rain--that the previous owner was perhaps not only being thoughtful when he uh, warmed up the car for us. The battery (and perhaps the alternator/starting mechanism/engine) was shot. Not even a rumble--dead as a doornail. A kind van-driving motorist jumpstarted the Volvo and we dropped off the rental, feeling rather ill.
Ten minutes into the drive back to base, we realized there was no fuel in our new little gem--below "E." Knowing we could get petrol on base, we wanted to get only a small amount off base. Shortly after finding the local station and buying one liter of regular unleaded (it's 3 times more expensive off base than on--we get a greatly reduced rate), we were again headed towards the base when it occured to us that we had forgotten the Garmin Nuvi in our rental car's glovebox. Still pouring, pouring, pouring rain.
We drove onto the base after a long ordeal getting the Nuvi back--hungry, crabby, and feeling like gullible, stupid Americans. We had just bought the worst lemon in the history of the world. It was probably a stolen vehicle, being pawned off to us for drug money. We discussed how little information we had about the seller. How we'd paid in cash. How the car would probably shudder to a stop at any given moment, at which point, the local police would arrest us for car theft and we wouldn't have a leg to stand on.
When we rolled into the base auto shop, it was 10 minutes before they closed for the day, and they wouldn't look at it. We sighed and headed home, defeated and foolish.

This morning, we crossed our fingers and hoped she would start. Holding our breath, Travis turned the key. VROOM! She roared to life!! Hallelujah! We drove her to the auto shop across base, waiting for her to die at any moment. She somehow made it the 5-6 blocks, and the auto folks took a look at her. After an hour or two of diagnostic testing (during which we ate a DELICIOUS meal of caprise salad, filled pasta from Germany, toasted bread dipped in balsalmic and olive oil, and olives shipped directly from Italy filled with soft cheese) the mechanics announced that there was nothing wrong with the Volvo except the battery--they charged it up and tested it (perfectly fine, only needed the charge) and the whole thing cost us 5 bucks. Whew! The car is worth twice what we paid for it, according to the mechanics and online surveys.
We are geniuses after all!! We are so savvy and smart!

I've included some pictures of the base, for your viewing pleasure. You can see the entrance to the base:

...and the hospital:

...and the street to the hospital. Very green and leafy :)



Saturday, 21 August 2010

Bury St Edmunds

We've found a house! Well...sort of.
We have a lovely little temporary house in Bury St. Edmunds (about 20 minutes Southeast of the base) which will do very nicely until we find the house of our dreams (and budget) to buy. We have a short lease on the current little home; we're hoping to find The House and close on it in the next 3-4 months. In the meantime, we'll be in lovely Bury!
I haven't any pictures of the house yet--we won't move in until the 31st--but we did go to view the house and check out the town and the commute again, so I did get a few shots of our day out. We started out the day at the Abbey Gardens--where there are beautiful ruins of a very very old cathedral scattered about the modern park. The interesting thing about the park is that unlike American historical monuments, people can climb about on the crumbling old bits of building. There are no little ropes or barriers or signs telling tourists not to let their children use the remaining rock formations as a jungle gym! People take their children and pets and picnics and it's altogether a very pleasant place.
The gardens themselves are very well-maintained, and there is now a "modern"* Abbey, playgorounds, duck pond, walking trails, all with little stone ruin-clumps scattered througout(*by which I mean post 7th-century!)
For more details on the park/gardens, click here: http://www.stedmundsbury.gov.uk/sebc/play/abbeygardens.cfm

After reading on a parkbench for a while and watching lovely British families push their prams and scold their children, we decided that sitting in the sun had taken a lot out of us. We knew it was time for some food.
We headed up about a block to the town square, where we found a very agreeable little French restaurant where I promptly ordered a latte to help me survive until we could look at a menu. It arrived with little sugar-clumps and made me very happy.
When we tried to order lunch from the very nice little French woman--with a VERY thick French accent--she informed us that she was so sorry, but she was not serving lunch; the restaurant serves only breakfast until noon on weekdays. This enamoured us to the town and to the restaurant and to this particular watiress forever.
We ordered the "Petit Dejeuner Anglais" with scrambled eggs, mushrooms, grilled tomatoes, bacon, seasoned sausages, and beans...and with a side of French crusty bread and toast.
We sat and ate, looking out the window at all the shoppers walking by...it was altogether a lovely meal.
We viewed the house, decided to let it for the time being, and returned to the base, happy and full.
Now, we must get to work finding a car--we can't keep renting at L50 per week!

Tuesday, 17 August 2010

Week 1, "Jetlagged-Amazingness"

We have not yet been here a full week, but an awful lot has happened since our flight here...firstly and most importantly, Lego is doing very well; he is happy and settling into British life nicely--thanks for asking.

We checked into our new duty sections on Friday morning after sleeping a solid 10 hours at the end of our travel day.

Carrie says: "I'm super excited about working in the Emergecy Room here--it's a 4 bed unit (very small by AF standards) but people seem nice and all were polite and very welcoming. Travis' unit seems great, too; they invited us to a game night Saturday and we've been able to get to know a lot of nice folks who will be working with him."
Travis says: "Hi." [Travis is a little cranky because he is still a little jetlagged, even as I write this. He requires a regular nap in the afternoon in order to make it through the evening.]

We are both very excited and happy to be here, and we've seen a lot of cool things, not only in the local area (more on that later), but also in this Wing of the AF. Perhaps San Antonio was wearing on us more heavily than we'd realized, because everything here seems more fun, more cool, and generally a better experience than Texas. The base is lovely--very green and in the middle of farm country, the weather is everything we could ask for and more--cool and drizzly with occasional sunny warm periods, though the air is fresh and clean and very British.

We've explored some of the local area--Saturday we went south about 20 minutes to Bury St. Edmunds--our best friend, Bob the taxi driver from the airport was kind enough to take us--and we visited the charming town centre and Abbey Gardens...and saw some British ducks quacking and splashing in a very English manner. Then a new friend generously donated her Sunday to take us to Newmarket (a town Southwest of the base) the birthplace of horseracing (the horse belonging to the King of Saudi Arabia is rumored to be stabled there). We had a lovely lunch in the local pub and looked at some very British houses; the best part of the day was certainly when we walked by an open gate, through which 50 elderly, all-white-wearing Brits were playing Bocci!

We rented a car--yep, a righty. Travis and I have both learned the basics of navigating on very narrow, curvy roads, and on the wrong damn side of the street. (As a point of interest, we were told several times that there are two reasons Brits drive on the left: 1) Old school folks kept their swords in their right hands, so driving on the left meant they could keep their weapons between themselves and any passing foes. 2) Europeans in general all drove in sort of the middle of the road (avoiding the side of the road muck and refuse) until Napoleon Bonaparte decided that enough was enough. He arbitrarily decided that the French would drive on the right--in order to avoid collisions--and the Brits, naturally, could not follow suit with the French in any way, so they drive on the left as a matter of principle.)

A few things we've noticed:
*"Unlimited" does not ever mean unlimited as it is known in the States. Here, they mean "unlimited" up to a certain limit. You must ask what that limit is. This refers to internet usage, cell phone minutes/texts etc. (This is because of the Fair Usage Policy which is part of the generally more socialist nature of this country.)

*We were surprised how the "same language" doesn't necessarily translate into the same road signs. Yield is posted here as "Give Way," and Detour as "Diversion." Yes, we can understand these messages, but it does cause one to give a second look.

*Our taxi driver Bob told us that there are only two 4-way stops in the UK: one on Mildenhall Airbase, and one on Lakenheath Airbase (both American bases, of course). The Brits use roundabouts instead, and some of them drive around said roundabouts at alarming speeds and with less focus on the other drivers than you'd prefer they use.

Most of the Air Force people here say things like, "yeah, the base isn't that bad" or "this isn't a bad assignment," and though we may lose our naive, childlike wonder at everything around us, we are convinced that they are all a bunch of idiots who don't appreciate how great this place is...This is such a lovely change from the politics of Lackland and the heat of San Antonio that we have nothing but breathless anticipation for the future!

Saturday, 14 August 2010

Travel Day

Our adventure has begun!! We left San Antonio on August 11th, and after months of preparation, paperwork, vet visits, frantic e-mails to England customs personnel, and more paperwork, we left Lego at the San Antonio Airport cargo drop-point. That particular part of the trip was made especially difficult by the staff working at said cargo drop-point--it seemed to both Travis and me that they had never heard of an animal being shipped overseas before, that this was their first foray into live cargo. They did not request specific paperwork that we knew to be required at the customs checkpoint in Houston; I suggested that it would be needed and they vaguely muttered that yes, probably wouldn't hurt.
Knowing that Lego would not go through any sort of customs screening until his layover in Houston, I was uneasy, thinking that if there were a problem during his paperwork review, Travis and I would be unavailable to correct it or provide additional documentation, as we would already be in the middle of our own transAtlantic flight! Nevertheless, we boarded our flight and hoped for the best.
Our flight was uneventful; we landed in London Heathrow at 0640 on the 12th and breezed through customs and baggage pickup. The base had sent a taxi to retrieve us and the very kind driver, Bob, was waiting just past the securtity point to take us to the Animal Reception Centre down the street in order to pick up Lego. Since Legs was scheduled to arrive on the flight after ours at 0930, Bob was kind enough to take us to a nearby cafe, where we shared our first British meal--fried eggs and bacon and sausage on fried bread...with chips, of course. We chatted (well, Bob chatted--in detail, about every person he had ever driven in his long and accomplished career as a taxi driver) until we returned to the Animal Reception Centre with high hopes of picking up our little black dog.
These hopes would soon be dashed, however, as the flight which Lego was supposed to take had been delayed, and would not arrive until 1330. The especially alarming bit of news however, was that the personnel at Heathrow saw that four dogs had been manifested on the flight, and that Lego was not among them. It appeared, they said, that Lego's paperwork had not cleared, and he was still in Houston. The staff at Houston, however, said they did not have any little one-eyed, black puppies in animal waiting area, and with that, Continental Airlines lost our dog.
The best thing to do, we were told, was to wait for the 1330 flight. Perhaps Lego had been put on the flight without anyone noticing...? (At this point, Travis and Bob and I began grumbling that FedEx packages were tracked much better than live animals) Bob was able to rearrange his afternoon schedule, and he very patiently agreed to wait with us to find out if Lego was on the afteroon flight. He also took us to a British grocery store in order to get some British currancy at the ATM, and Hobnob cookies, which are quite possibly the most delicious things on this planet.
After waiting several hours, we checked in with the Animal Reception Centre at about 1400. The staff told me that they did not yet have information about whether Lego was on the flight or not. Houston still could not find him, and the pet travel "agency" which Continental required us to hire *in order to fly Lego could not confirm whether Lego's paperwork had cleared US Customs. *By "hire," I mean that we had to pay them exorbitant amounts of money and they did...nothing.
It took 2.5 hours after the flight landed for news to get to us that Lego had indeed been on the flight--he was safe and sound, fed and watered, and we only needed to wait a few more hours for customs to clear his paperwork. We left the airport at 1730, after having waited for Legs for 9.5 hours, longer than our total flying time. At this time, we hit stop-and-go London afternoon traffic.
We arrived on the base in our little temporary housing unit, starving (Hobnobs can only take you so far) and exhausted. Thankfully, our Air Force sponsors are very thoughtful people and they had brought us basic food supplies in preparation for our arrival. We ate turkey sandwhiches and milk and promptly fell asleep, all three of us.

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.....