So, my first week in DC is drawing to a close. Ironically, it feels like a thousand years since I left Heathrow, stumbling away from my parents and through security in a misty fog of tears like a scene from a depressing country song. I think it's because I've seen so much, done so many new things and met so many new people in such a short amount of time that a week here equates to about 6 months of my normal life in London. So hopefully once I grow more accustomed to life here time will start to go by at a normal speed, and not continue at a pace akin to that of an arthritic grandmother.
But on first impressions, DC is a pretty special city. Very different from London, a lot more chilled out and laid-back (apart from car drivers - who seem to take pleasure in honking at anything and anyone. Even the fire engines toot their way down the road, as apparently the blaring siren in its own right just isn't enough; thus a deafening cacophony of both is seemingly more appropriate). I was appalled to find that the Metro (DC's tube equivalent) only comes every 10 minutes on weekends! The rage is palpable if I have to wait more than 3 in London. How do these people survive on such paltry transport regularity?! And also THERE IS NO KETTLE IN THE KITCHEN AT MY HOUSE. WTF?! Don't they know they are putting up an English person who basically survives on tea? I cannot continue boiling water in the microwave. It is just wrong. And when I put the tea bag in (Yorkshire, brought over with me specially) it goes all frothy. Gross.
But anyway, on I go to Foggy Bottom (teehee) metro stop every morning and, as promised by everyone I know who has been to DC; Georgetown is beautiful. Like the Notting Hill of London, except with a canal and a river. And an abundance of Americans. All the streets are tree-lined, there are cobbled streets, cute jewellery shops and sweet little bars and restaurants. There's even an Irish pub I might try out one of these days. If Georgetown was filled with English people instead of crazy yanks, it would be the perfect town!
That being said I am steadily growing rather fond of my new countrymen, they're so straight-talking and confident it's hard not to be simultaneously intimidated and impressed by them. The other day on my first bus journey downtown, a friendly, loud-talking black guy got on after me, started having a loud conversation with the driver about Mother's Day, then turned to me, asking "And how 'bout you miss? D'you have a mother? Did you have a wonderful mother's day?" To which I replied, "My mother is back home in London, so unfortunately I didn't get to see her." He then proceeded to yell "Well I'll be damned! Are you a mother?" I politely explained that I am 23 and thus hoping not to become a mother for quite some time, then returned to my map of DC and pretended to study it furiously.
Obviously this incident in itself is a culture shock; as being a born and bred Londoner if anyone speaks to me on the street they may as well be holding a gun to my face. It could be something that I have to get used to, either that or I must accept the fact that I just generally attract the crazies.
I'm two days into my job now, but as it's the settling in period and my colleagues are just finishing off projects there's not a lot for me to do yet. So I'm here, writing my blog, all chilled out in my little cubicle. But something tells me that in a few more days, shit is about to get REAL. My boss wants me to start project managing things. I have never really project managed anything in my life (apart from my boyfriend's wardrobe choices), so it should be an interesting/stressful experience. At least I get to write, which I think will be the best thing about this job.
Stay tuned for more tales from the East Coast. :) I'm off to sit outside at Starbucks by the harbour. Laterz.
C xx
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