Burlaki on the Hudson

On our excursions with cousins to the central London over the weekend, we have been talking about the advantages of living in a big city. Now, it should be noted that they live in a small town well north of Los Angeles, while we spent the last seven years before our relocation in the bliss of New Jerseyan suburbia. Furthermore, I always avowedly subscribed to the pleasures of peace and quiet that you can only achieve in the countryside.

But we all agree that dwelling in a big city has its advantages, as many of you undoubtedly know. It can all be summed up in one contraposition: walking vs driving.
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Chronicles, Expat Topic, London & Environs

In my posts, I occasionally touch upon subjects that could be collectively described as Things You Tend To Not Spend Time Thinking Seriously About When Making Decision To Relocate. Since I’ve gathered a few of those after all these months, I figure I can devote an occasional post to such a topic exclusively.

So, what about relocating with your kids?

First of all, why the question?

The reason is fairly simple. I know many expat couples that have kids – and they are all faced with similar kid-related logistic problems. And while every one of those families obviously spent considerable time figuring out how to set up said logistics, nobody actually goes far enough to think of the overall implications. Until it becomes a nuisance, that is, at which point changing it may be an undertaking of the same magnitude as the original relocation…

I am not going to give you any advice here, just some food for thought.

There is no argument that bringing your kids to live abroad is a stupendously positive experience. Okay, let me qualify that. No argument, unless your destination is of an oppressive, authoritarian or otherwise inherently dangerous to foreigners type. But with relocating to Western Europe, the benefits of exposure to different cultures and places and of expanding children’s horizons cannot be underestimated. (And if you happen to disagree, I am sorry to say that that is the thinking of a stereotypical narrow-minded and ego-centric American – I did not come up with the stereotype, mind you, I am only borrowing it from some America-bashing Euro intellectuals).

But you would not move half across the world just to expand your offspring’s horizons, would you? No, for most of us, a professional opportunity is the big part of the picture. And chances are, the adults in the family are themselves keen to experience different people and places and a different lifestyle. The kids will simply tag along.

Not so simple, unfortunately.

Let’s see. We came to Europe because we like to travel. But anybody who’s ever went with the kids to something other than a beach or the Disneyworld will know that you end up adjusting your plans around children’s stamina, or lack thereof, as well as their attitudes towards playgrounds and souvenir stores (cool!) and museums and idle walks (bo-o-o-o-ring!).

Oh, we certainly considered it beforehand. And overrode our own concerns with Well, we’ll do our best. And if you have been following our adventures, you’d agree that we’ve done reasonably well thus far in satisfying our wanderlust and keeping the kids happy at the same time.

Of course, I have two bright girls, who are normally receptive to the idea of a museum visit and sometimes even surprise me with their appreciation of what they see. And they can always be negotiated with, even on their most restive occasions.

But suppose that they were less curious. Or less amenable to spending time on what the parents like to do in exchange of a promise of following that up with something that they would enjoy. (How about we go to see Van Gogh for a bit and then hire the water bike? And we’ll let you pedal!)

Or suppose that the kids are simply too small to be travelling and sightseeing. Do you forgo your travel plans? Do you always go only to leisure destinations? Do you leave the child(ren) with the nanny and spend your getaway constantly feeling pangs of guilt and worrying about the neglected little one?

Travel, after all, is just a discretionary pleasure. School is a whole different matter.

You see, in England, living near a good public school does not guarantee that your child gets into it. It certainly improves your chances, but a good school is likely to be a popular choice of many, and if it happens to be oversubscribed – or already full when you apply – then your child may end up being “invited” to another school in the same district (called catchments here). Quite possibly, no longer within walking distance.

You may get lucky and get into the school that is your first choice. Or you may decide to go for an independent (that’s private in American) school right from the start, and that will allow you to look for a permanent accommodation after the school situation is cleared up (which is not really possible with public schools since you normally cannot apply to one without having secured a residence in the catchment to which it belongs).

But it is very likely that you’ll first find yourselves a suitable house or an apartment, and then realize that your 12-year-old daughter will have to take two connecting buses to get to the school which is a couple of miles away. And there are no school buses even as a concept.

A braver parent might just let the kid travel on her own (and surely I did so at an even younger age myself), but I am not that brave. So, instead, I drive Becky to school every morning, which takes me over half an hour since I have to come all the way back to the house. Natasha then picks her up in the afternoon, occasionally spending well over an hour in the car on the account of traffic. Talk about different lifestyle! My morning commute, which I was so keen to reduce compared to what I used to have in New Jersey, is pretty much stuck at the same hour-and-a-half.

So, there you have it. The questions of school and travelling with kids did not get enough of consideration when we were considering relocation. And they certainly should have.

Now, in truth, it is unlikely that we would have changed our minds even if had the foresight of my morning school runs. But who knows?

Children, Expat Topic, Schooling

Weather again. Some portions of England have experienced the worst flooding in 60 years over the last couple of days.

Watching the news last night, I’ve noticed a clear convergence of events. Deluge in England… Floods in Texas… Inundation in Bangladesh and China… Is it too late now to start building an ark?

The anchorwoman on the news asked her weatherwoman counterpart point-blank: “Is all of this the result of the global climate change?” The poor weather girl could only manage something along the lines of “We are studying it”…

At least, the overall British weather seems to refute any notion of global warming so far. I know I am going to jinx it eventually, but we have not yet felt the absence of air conditioning in the house. With July almost at its end, it is still reasonably cool and, truly according to stereotypes, consistently damp.

But let’s talk about our weekend exploits, for a change.

Despite intermittent rain, we did finally go to the Royal Botanic Gardens at Kew. To be honest, my approach to botanic gardens is once you’ve been to one, you’ve been to all of them. When I go to one, I am not looking to be impressed, but rather to spend a pleasant time walking around far away from car traffic and maybe incidentally learn something interesting along the way. But Kew Gardens is certainly an outstanding specimen of botanic gardens variety.

The gardens are vast, but walkable, with various “points of interest” in different corners. Strategically positioned numerous memorial benches (I came by one commemorating a Mrs. Neate “who loved these gardens” and her husband “who didn’t”) provide welcome respite in the shade. Impeccably maintained lawns are a prime real estate for picnics.

There are several glasshouses that contain enough educational information to keep the kids – as well as curious adults – engaged. In addition, there is a number of thematic gardens, which always go well with young ladies (the Rose Garden, which, unlike in many other places, is laid out on an open plaza, is utterly magnificent). Kids playground, beautiful vistas, quiet groves – for an unhurried day out, very little can beat a nice park.

We met up with our friends Anya and Ari and their cute toddler Ben, and spend the day alternating between spending the rainy spells inside glasshouses and the rest of the time strolling around. I foolishly at some point gave in to my children’s prodding to play tag with them – and seriously felt it afterwards.

At the Waterlilies House, the display was spiced up by sprouting pepper plants. Becky, and then Kimmy, thought nothing of harvesting a few fruits for themselves. A bit more than a few, actually. More than you would normally buy at a market. Of a dozen different varieties. Becky decided to try some there and then, but we ended up bringing home a fairly large pepper bounty.

Sunday was spent visiting our friends Anya and Alex. We literally sat down at the table around 3pm and got up when it was time to go back home about six hours later. Anya, as is her custom, produced a multi-course dinner. Unlike British aristocracy, I had red wine with fish, but it was delicious nonetheless. Catching up with friends is always nice…

The elder Popivker kid, Arthur, has grown old enough to overcome his erstwhile shyness, and played very amiably with adult and kid visitors alike. At some point, as Kimmy decided to busy herself with some drawing, he positioned himself to her side and spent quite a long time quietly observing…

For the grand finale today, a couple of totally unrelated items.

We have pre-ordered the last Harry Potter book, and it arrived on our doorstep on Saturday morning. Becky immediately dived into it, and is close to finishing it up. I am slightly surprised to say that mass hysteria has touched me as well – I am just a bit anxious to read the book after she is done. Normally, I am perfectly fine to wait until the book comes out in the mass market paperback edition, relieving me from the need to lug a huge tome around in my bag. Not this time.

Natasha was eating a piece of a chocolate bar last night, when we noticed a label with the word Vegetarian on the wrapping. It was like a revelation to me. So, that’s why I don’t particularly like chocolate – it has no meat in it! Who knew?

Chronicles, Family & Friends, London & Environs

England went smoke-free on July 1st. Smoking in all public establishments is now expressly prohibited. The word pub is actually a contraction of public house, so these quintessential Anglo-Saxon establishments are certainly included in the ban. The rooms previously perpetually filled with thick smoke are suddenly clear and breathable. In restaurants, there is no longer a question of “smoking or non-smoking”…
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Chronicles, That's England, Travel

Getting up in the morning full 40 minutes later that normal for an otherwise regular arrival at the office did nothing for my customary beginning-of-the-day discontent – I still felt denied the pleasure of staying in bed a bit longer… I also ended up staying late at work. Hope there is no correlation, or I should be worried.
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Chronicles, Travel

Becky’s school year is over. A bit more sleep in the morning for me until September (although I was foolish – that’s another word for professional – enough to agree to an 8:30am meeting on Monday, signaling to all those willing to notice that I no longer have the drive-daughter-to-school excuse to decline early meeting invites).

And if my American readers are a bit incredulous at the mid-July end of the school year, let me assure you that only going to a private school allows Becky to start her summer holidays this early. Poor Kimmy still has a week to go…

For anyone who is waiting to hear how my charity golf outing went (I mentioned it here), I can report that it went exactly as expected. In other words, it was a dismal performance. Should there have been an award for the Most Inept Participant, it would undoubtedly go to me. Thankfully, nobody bothered to recognize my extraordinarily horrid play.

No, seriously, playing to the highest possible handicap, I managed to score a puny total of 15 points on the Stableford system. I scratched on a couple of holes where I knew I was not scoring, but my overall stroke total could be charitably established at 135. One of my playing partners, who was playing to the same handicap and visually has only marginally better skills than me, scored 30 points with a stroke total of 107…

The funny thing is, I always thought that if I managed to reach the green without losing too many shots, I’d be okay, given that I could lob the ball decently and putted reasonably competently…

Riiight! On Thursday, I actually drove the ball quite well off the tee (maybe three bad drives all day); I followed almost every drive on non-par-3 hole with a decent iron shot from fairway or first-cut rough. And, then, on every single hole save one, my game fell apart: I shanked pitches, I lobbed way over the greens, I got stuck in greenside bunkers, I four- and five-putted… Luck was not on my side either – three of my better putts lipped out.

My best hole, a par-3, turned out to be the one where I actually drove way right of the green and ended up needing a low pitch between some trees. With the way I was pitching, my effort appropriately produced a high lob that hit some tree branches… and bounced to the middle of the green. A lip-out and a conceded putt later, I had a natural bogey for 3 Stableford points… I actually had a couple of other bogeys on par-5′s, but based on how handicap is applied – which is not something that I understand even after people explained it to me – I only got 2 points for each. And I never came any closer than that to a decent score.

But the course itself was gorgeous; the weather, which started out cheerless and drizzling, improved all the way to bright blue skies; the time flew by; and it was all for charity. I certainly had a good time, a hundred pounds in fees and donations notwithstanding.

On Friday, Kimmy, Natasha and I went to a circus performance at the Bromley theatre that we have visited a couple of time already (to see Nutcracker and Swan Lake on ice). It was not exactly Cirque du Soleil, but an enjoyable performance nonetheless, almost all of it acrobatics, some of which was very impressive (no trapeze or high rope, but a couple of excellent aerial numbers, pole acrobatics and ring jumping). A troupe of dancers spiced up the proceedings with some sexy numbers and the mime who doubled as a ringmaster was hilarious (he also did a fantastic job twirling a huge cube-like structure made out of thin rods). Kimmy absolutely loved the entire thing.

Becky, meanwhile, celebrated the end of school year and the birthday of one of her friends with a trip to the movies to watch the newest Harry Potter and a sleep-over. She says that the movie is the best Harry Potter yet, and promises to join me when I decide to go watch it.

Not being accustomed with fitting a day of golfing into my weekly routine, I was rather beat by the end of day Friday, and we decided to alter our plans for the weekend, which initially included a trip to Kew Gardens (the Royal Botanic Garden). Instead, Natasha and the kids went to an indoor beach on Saturday.

Even if you do not know what it is, you certainly have heard at least once about the Millennium Dome, a huge exhibition center in Greenwich, built for millennium celebrations and opened on January 1st of 2000. It was controversial, never appealed to the local populace, cost tons more money than initially planned, and ended up disused after the original exhibition had closed. Several years later, re-christened as O₂ Dome (after the mobile phone company), it has been reopened as a recreational complex, with restaurants, performance arenas, and, yes, an indoor beach.

So the girls went to check it out. And surely enough, the water did not come included with the beach. This beach turned out to be a big sandbox with various activities for the kids and a place for parents to pretend that they are lounging on the seaside. Huge disappointment! To make something good of it, Natasha had kids partake in various activities, so the visit was not a complete loss. She also says that there is a variety of diverse eateries inside the dome, which may be worth checking out one day, so let’s chalk it up as a somewhat useful reconnaissance trip.

Tonight, we are continuing with our recent trend of going to central London for a dinner out with friends. They made a reservation at a fashionable seafood place…

And tomorrow, our cousins from California arrive for a couple of weeks. Should be fun.

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There are new pictures in the Summer album of our Picture Gallery – feel free to check them out.

Chronicles, London & Environs, Sports

Unlike my friend Brian, who writes his blog when he really should be sleeping, I tend to value a good night’s sleep well above many other seemingly worthwhile endeavors. Which is why I often find myself unfamiliar with concepts that other bloggers have long mastered.

One of those concepts is Internet Meme. And Brian tagged me with one of those in a recent entry.

Well, a challenge is a challenge, so here goes nothing…
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Stuff About Us

Of the newly selected Seven Modern Wonders of the World, I’ve only been to one, the Colosseum – and actually was left underwhelmed by it. I have been to a few places that did not make the final cut – Alhambra, Neuschwanstein, Eiffel Tower, Red Square, plus a tour boat took me close enough to the Statue of Liberty once to count that as well, – but the list highlights how many things there’s yet to see… The only consolation is that almost every single entrant has been on my personal list of future destinations long before I became aware of the contest.

That’s not what I planned to write about today, though. Enough of idle musings, let’s go back to the family chronicles.

The summer has finally given us something to be cheerful about. Both Saturday and Sunday were sunny, warm and inviting. After so many rainy days – June this year was truly the wettest in England in recorded history – we had to take advantage of it.

The weekend was actually kicked off on Friday night, when we went to the city center for a dinner with friends. Trafalgar Square was in its full “event” mode, for the opening ceremony of this year’s Tour de France. Since the opening festivities and ensuing prologue and first stage only served to increase congestion problems in and around the city for three days, – as if London traffic needed any help in getting worse, – and road cycling has got to be one of the boringest spectator sports, I can’t see the point of all that brouhaha. But the opening ceremony certainly drew a huge crowd, which we safely skirted on our way to Chinatown.

We went to a rather modern Chinese restaurant, both in terms of dishes and their presentation, and also in terms of staff equipment – all waiters had hands-free phone cords hanging down from their ears, into which they continuously barked what I could only assume were orders and requests. They also immensely annoyed Natasha with all too frequent visits to our table to take away plates, even ones that we were still working on and simply paused our consumption of.

And we had to pause plenty, as the cuisine was decidedly on the spicier side. Very delicious, but very hot. I had mixed meat in a “fiery” sauce, which required some careful picking through to avoid unbearable sensations. The portion was huge as well, and I had to admit defeat at some point… It was certainly a great culinary experience!

Realizing that we haven’t been out on any sightseeing in England in almost two months, we spent Saturday at the Hever Castle, in Kent, about 25 miles away from our house. Having had been built about 800 years ago, it was acquired by the Astor family (of Waldorf-Astoria fame) at the end of the 19th century and exquisitely rebuilt. The inside of the castle is not overly remarkable, but boasts several beautiful period rooms and holds a couple exhibitions (including an extensive one on the ubiquitous topic of Henry VIII and his six wives). But the grounds are nothing short of spectacular, with pristine lawns (heavily used for picnics), several gardens (amongst them an absolutely magnificent Italian garden), a lake (we hired a paddle boat for a leisurely ride – the girls spent most of the time alternating in a largely futile attempts to move the boat along), a water-obstacle maze (we came prepared with additional sets of clothes for the kids), a children’s playground, and so on.

We did not have picnic supplies with us, and instead spent time walking around and partaking in all attractions. The day went by in a flash…

We at first considered doing something similar on Sunday, but instead decided to chill at home. But thinking ahead to an upcoming charity golf event that I am participating in, I went to a nearby driving range. After all, the last time I picked up my clubs was more than a year ago.

Turns out you skills positively deteriorate when you don’t practice them… but you also pick up different ones. I am a terrible golfer, rarely able to hit it straight, never long, and struggling with pretty much any club. I am not too bad around the greens, when a 50-yard flop shot is the recipe, and can two-putt on most occasions. It’s the process of getting close to the green that is always the problem, with only a 3-wood providing some semblance of consistency, albeit for no more than 150 yards off the tee. And then it’s a choice of a succession of 9-irons (which occasionally mean reaching a par-5 green in 6 shots) or hitting worm-burners with long irons (which almost never brings about a better result than reaching a par-5 green in 6 shots, if that).

But I pull out the driver at the range, and suddenly I am hitting straight and reasonably good-looking shots that go beyond 200 yards. Then I try a 5-iron, and I can lift the ball off the mat and have it carry 120 yards (which is certainly much longer than my best 9-iron shot). But I can’t hit a good one with a 3-wood, nor can I get any consistency while practicing my flops.

So, the bottom line: I am still a terrible player, and I will most likely come in last or close thereabout in the tournament. And if I thought I knew my limitations, I obviously do not anymore. Now I am going to be screwed up mentally as well…

The driving range is excellent, though, with various amenities and an electronic ball feeder on every practice tee (not something that I’ve ever seen in the States – maybe in some private clubs?). And it is practically around the corner from where we live, although due to its highway-side location, I have to drive past it in an opposite direction, circle a roundabout a mile away and then come back…

After I had my fun, Natasha and Kimmy had some of their own, at a birthday party for one of Kimmy’s friends. The family is from Croatia, and they celebrate in style that is very familiar to us, with friends and neighbors bringing stuff, the man of the house barbecuing, with loud music and lots of drinks. Natasha, who was driving, had to limit herself to a single glass of champaign, but still had a good time, making an acquaintance was a couple from Kiev. Kimmy simply did not want to leave, drinks having nothing to do with that…

Alas, the summer weather did not last long. I got seriously soaked on my way home today…

Chronicles, London & Environs, Sports, Travel

So, Winter Olympics in Sochi. Manifestly due to direct involvement of charismatic Putin, who popped up in Guatemala and charmed IOC members in French and English, swaying the majority in Russia’s favor.

One of my Russian friends, whom I correspond with regularly and who is avowedly apolitical, has sent me a hyperventilating email with repeated verbiage around “our victory”, “a shot of adrenalin”, “the might of the country”… I can only imagine the hysteria in Russian mass media – actually, I’ve read a few articles, nothing to imagine there. Putin is now only an inch away from being anointed a saint. Irina Rodnina, discussing the suggestion of Putin opening the Games in 2014, agreed that it will certainly be appropriate regardless of which position he will occupy at the time; then, matter-of-factly, “In truth, people of Russia are not against him doing that in his presidential capacity”…
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From Russia, Of Russia

NEWSFLASH: Natasha has passed the theory test for UK driving license with flying colors.

I guess I might as well take an opportunity and describe what the test entails.
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Expat Topic

The American School in Central London costs around £20K per child per year. Unless you receive on-going subsidies as part of your expatriate package (see my treatise on relocation packages for further reference), you would probably be put off by this price tag. We obviously were, although the cost was only one of the reasons why we put our girls into local schools in England.
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Expat Topic, Schooling