by Layla
I would start this blog with an apology for a fortnight of silence and blame it on our new glamorous lifestyle, but really my parents' 10 day visit, mostly involving the receiving and building of flatpack furniture (hope they didn't think they were here for a holiday!), Roz's departure for Christmas in London, and an all-consuming fight with rubbish internet company Verizon (resulting in no internet til a couple of days ago) distracted me. On the latter point, it is fascinating how difficult it is to get on the internet here, and very much an advert for the free market. In the UK, there are about 30 broadband companies, all competing on price, speed, customer service, and quality. In DC there are two. Both are expensive, slow, and have appalling customer service. But the population has nowhere else to go, so both continue to thrive despite their inadequacies. When we told people we were seeking internet connection, every one of them had a horror story about one or other of the two companies to impart, and told us to brace ourselves. However I didn't quite imagine the month-long hassle that awaited us. Even after we'd managed to get an account and received a happy little email telling us we were now connected, we sat there, gazing hopelessly at the flashing light on the modem, and awaiting the technician, one hand holding a non-stop phonecall to customer service. On the first day that the technician was supposed to come between 12 and 4, he didn't (but claimed he had). On the second day he didn't come between 12 and 4, but bizarrely at 10:30 at night. I almost had to receive him in my pyjamas! But all of that is a longwinded way of saying hooray, we have internet!
And we almost have a bank account (though it took a discussion with one of the very top people in the whole bank for it to happen, and we still have a 10 working days wait for our bank cards). And we may nearly have iPhone accounts. (But that is unclear). Utilities do not seem to be DC's strong point... But we do have seven lovely bookcases, a cool new sofa and dining table, a cinema projector and a ping pong table. Most of our art is on the walls. And we've figured out how to have a log fire. So life is frankly quite pleasant.
I am not much further in acquiring a job - I have two potential options in the pipeline, one at a university and one at a think tank. I've been talking to more people, learning things, expanding my CV from 3 pages to 12 (somebody suggested I should aim for 50, but I really couldn't) and being very delightful, but things do tend to wind down around Christmas. So I've been writing a paper on international policies for disclosing medical errors to patients (as you do), taking my parents out for posh breakfasts in fancy local restaurants, attending multiple Jewish events (including a fab storytelling one at a quirky synagogue) in honour of Hannukah, and meeting a visiting London friend for tea as though it were Camberwell (well, a posh bit). Roz and I went to a great NASA event organised by the International Space University alumni association in a cool little bar called the Science Club. And to a LOT of glamorous Christmas parties related to Roz's work, including three in one night! Indeed, the schmoozing has been so great that I have been obliged to get business cards printed, even though I do not have any business to speak of. When I was in Boston, some of you may recall that the first thing people said in any sort of social situation was 'what lab do you work in?'. In DC, it's 'Do you have a business card?' This is rhetorical, and my lack of one so disconcerted people that I was obliged to acquire some and now hand them out willy nilly.
Christmas was spent with a walk in the sun to the White House, hot chocolate in the posh W Hotel, and an incredulous grin that we live here. Last night we hosted our first dinner party. And now Roz is off work for 5 days and we are planning a 'staycation' to explore our new home.
Saturday 31 December 2011
Sunday 11 December 2011
In which Roz and Layla schmooze, accelerate, and learn fast
By Layla
It’s really starting to feel like we live here now. Today we went ice skating at the outdoor rink at the Sculpture Garden. It was reminiscent of a couple of years ago when, on our honeymoon in NYC, we held hands, glided across the ice, and together imagined a life when we lived in America. A very funny feeling to realize we made it come true. We’ve bought some furniture (not arrived yet), we’re getting to know the local restaurants, and we’re settling into a routine. For me, this involves going to interesting health events, meeting people, and generally schmoozing. Someone from the World Bank this week told me that I shouldn’t rest til I’d had coffee with at least 50 people. I’m probably at about 15: oh dear. But what is becoming increasingly clear is that Washington is a town of connections – it’s very, very important who you know, and everyone’s raison d’etre seems to be building networks.
Presumably related to this, another DC quirk is the practice of having two events per evening. So if someone invites you to dinner at 7, it is reasonable to assume that you’ll be leaving at 9, so that you and your hosts can head off to your respective ‘second sittings’. We hadn’t realized our faux pas in scheduling one social event per evening. Fortunately we’re getting with the scene and tonight we have two – a dinner party with the local lesbians I previously mentioned, and then the gay foreign affairs people’s festive party. Indeed, it is a gay social weekend for us, with a brunch with a lesbian couple tomorrow, and dinner with Roz’s book blog boys tomorrow night. Bizarre.
All of this fast paced life makes us worry – when do we have the time to become clever? By the time a DC-ite turns up at work, he’s done some exercise, and read the Washington Post and Financial Times, is up to date with his blackberry emails (of which when Roz wakens she typically finds about 70 since she closed her eyes), and is raring to go. At what time do people wake up? I can’t imagine. But not knowing what’s in these papers is a social embarrassment. The chat is typically about the day’s politics and if you can’t hold your own, I get the impression that you don’t belong in DC. It’s a different pace, there are different rules, and different expectations. Hopefully we’ll catch up soon.
Of course it’s not quite so frantic for me. Which is why my Kindle reassures me that I’m already 17% into Poor Economics, the clever tome du jour. As Roz dashes off to work, I potter around, doing the washing up etc, and then head out for my day’s entertainment. Which usually means jumping on some shop’s wifi to check my emails, having coffee with someone interesting who pertains to health and development, and attending various health/development events run by think tanks and universities. This week I enjoyed a lecture by a Harvard professor at Georgetown University on the history of smallpox eradication on Monday, a half-day conference on global health cooperation in the BRICS countries on Tuesday, an award event for ‘Commitment to Development’ on Wednesday, a World Bank meeting on Thursday, and a conference on the strategic power of vaccines on Friday. And of course some glamorous events at Roz’s work (where I am disconcerted to hear that my conduct and actions are being scrutinized and reported to Roz’s boss…). And we have had our first visit from someone from the UK, one of Roz’s previous colleagues. We went out for tapas. Georgetown really is excellent for restaurants. We also tried another 20 of them this week. I particularly liked the Ethiopian restaurant we went to last night, though amusingly the food is better at Camberwell’s version.
As I muse upon whether to apply for university, think tank, NGO, or multilateral organisation jobs, I am keeping myself occupied by becoming a ‘Visiting Scholar’ at Johns Hopkins University, a title dignified and distinguished enough to make me feel I ought to buy a cape and a monocle. This will involve a long commute to Baltimore a few times a week, but have the benefit of enabling me to churn out some publications on subjects pertaining to patient safety and having a glamorous affiliation til I figure out what I’m doing properly. It should be good fun. And all that commuting will be helpful as I try to finish off Poor Economics…
It’s really starting to feel like we live here now. Today we went ice skating at the outdoor rink at the Sculpture Garden. It was reminiscent of a couple of years ago when, on our honeymoon in NYC, we held hands, glided across the ice, and together imagined a life when we lived in America. A very funny feeling to realize we made it come true. We’ve bought some furniture (not arrived yet), we’re getting to know the local restaurants, and we’re settling into a routine. For me, this involves going to interesting health events, meeting people, and generally schmoozing. Someone from the World Bank this week told me that I shouldn’t rest til I’d had coffee with at least 50 people. I’m probably at about 15: oh dear. But what is becoming increasingly clear is that Washington is a town of connections – it’s very, very important who you know, and everyone’s raison d’etre seems to be building networks.
Presumably related to this, another DC quirk is the practice of having two events per evening. So if someone invites you to dinner at 7, it is reasonable to assume that you’ll be leaving at 9, so that you and your hosts can head off to your respective ‘second sittings’. We hadn’t realized our faux pas in scheduling one social event per evening. Fortunately we’re getting with the scene and tonight we have two – a dinner party with the local lesbians I previously mentioned, and then the gay foreign affairs people’s festive party. Indeed, it is a gay social weekend for us, with a brunch with a lesbian couple tomorrow, and dinner with Roz’s book blog boys tomorrow night. Bizarre.
All of this fast paced life makes us worry – when do we have the time to become clever? By the time a DC-ite turns up at work, he’s done some exercise, and read the Washington Post and Financial Times, is up to date with his blackberry emails (of which when Roz wakens she typically finds about 70 since she closed her eyes), and is raring to go. At what time do people wake up? I can’t imagine. But not knowing what’s in these papers is a social embarrassment. The chat is typically about the day’s politics and if you can’t hold your own, I get the impression that you don’t belong in DC. It’s a different pace, there are different rules, and different expectations. Hopefully we’ll catch up soon.
Of course it’s not quite so frantic for me. Which is why my Kindle reassures me that I’m already 17% into Poor Economics, the clever tome du jour. As Roz dashes off to work, I potter around, doing the washing up etc, and then head out for my day’s entertainment. Which usually means jumping on some shop’s wifi to check my emails, having coffee with someone interesting who pertains to health and development, and attending various health/development events run by think tanks and universities. This week I enjoyed a lecture by a Harvard professor at Georgetown University on the history of smallpox eradication on Monday, a half-day conference on global health cooperation in the BRICS countries on Tuesday, an award event for ‘Commitment to Development’ on Wednesday, a World Bank meeting on Thursday, and a conference on the strategic power of vaccines on Friday. And of course some glamorous events at Roz’s work (where I am disconcerted to hear that my conduct and actions are being scrutinized and reported to Roz’s boss…). And we have had our first visit from someone from the UK, one of Roz’s previous colleagues. We went out for tapas. Georgetown really is excellent for restaurants. We also tried another 20 of them this week. I particularly liked the Ethiopian restaurant we went to last night, though amusingly the food is better at Camberwell’s version.
As I muse upon whether to apply for university, think tank, NGO, or multilateral organisation jobs, I am keeping myself occupied by becoming a ‘Visiting Scholar’ at Johns Hopkins University, a title dignified and distinguished enough to make me feel I ought to buy a cape and a monocle. This will involve a long commute to Baltimore a few times a week, but have the benefit of enabling me to churn out some publications on subjects pertaining to patient safety and having a glamorous affiliation til I figure out what I’m doing properly. It should be good fun. And all that commuting will be helpful as I try to finish off Poor Economics…
Monday 5 December 2011
In which Layla and Roz make their first friends, see their first DC storytelling, and explore new areas
by Layla
Ah, it is always a great sorrow when a weekend draws to a close, but particularly for me, as I have had a lovely weekend of Roz time and Monday approaches with her going off to work and me seeking purpose in my life… but that’s still a while away.
We had a very nice weekend. It started with Roz going off on a run to Capitol Hill, still overexcited by the fun of seeing all the sights of Washington on one’s running route. I tarted up my CV and had a sneaky read of my book. And then we headed out to Dupont Circle, to meet our very first potential non-work-related friends, a boy who writes a book blog introduced to Roz through her London book club circles, and his boyfriend. And we had a really lovely lunch. Upon sitting down, book blog boy produced a bag from Kramer Books, crammed with six volumes – it turned out he’d bought six books for Roz, his top recommendations covering the different aspects of life in America. We were both quite overwhelmed by both the thoughtfulness and generosity. We had a cheery lunch afterwards, chatting about all sorts of things (yet more clever people with exciting jobs), and eventually left with promises of meeting up again.
We turned around and ran straight into a lesbian couple we’d met at a party on our recce visit last month, on their way back from a visit to the women’s art museum. Delightfully stereotypical, and it made us feel very local. And so we headed to Georgetown for some unsuccessful furniture shopping and some more successful chocolate shopping…
That night was our first big Washington expedition – to a storytelling event at the other side of the city. I peered nerdily at the maps until eventually Roz rolled her eyes, threw me in a cab, and soon we emerged at a Hackney-esque area, home to the Atlas Arts Centre and our storytelling night. Other than having to down beers after buying them, only to be told we couldn’t drink in the theatre, it was a brilliant night. The eight stories were all winners from previous storytelling nights throughout the year. Immediately afterwards, we looked up the next one and booked it up!
After dinner we decided to branch out from the ubiquitous Italian and venture to the local Indian restaurant, Taj Mahal. And very nice and cheery it was too, with lovely staff and pleasant food. We sauntered home afterwards, feeling very pleased with ourselves.
This morning the sun was still out and after some pfaffing, breakfast, CV polishing, and fighting with the internet, we headed out on the Circulator bus to Logan Circle to continue our doomed hunt for furniture. But first we needed fuel – in the form of Masa 14 restaurant’s bottomless brunch. Over mimosas, ‘breakfast pizza’, ‘home fries’, and other such tasty morsels, we gathered strength and then headed out to splutter at the cost of sofas and long for a DFS equivalent.
Still lacking in furniture, we took a bus and metro to Friendship Heights, home to lots of big department stores such as Bloomingdales, and also – oh joy – TK Maxx, where we bought lots of items of the sheet/towel/pot variety before hopping sofa-less onto a bus that took us straight home. Excellent.
It’s tempting to stay at home tonight but we haven’t quite mastered shopping yet… and a local Lebanese restaurant is calling…
Ah, it is always a great sorrow when a weekend draws to a close, but particularly for me, as I have had a lovely weekend of Roz time and Monday approaches with her going off to work and me seeking purpose in my life… but that’s still a while away.
We had a very nice weekend. It started with Roz going off on a run to Capitol Hill, still overexcited by the fun of seeing all the sights of Washington on one’s running route. I tarted up my CV and had a sneaky read of my book. And then we headed out to Dupont Circle, to meet our very first potential non-work-related friends, a boy who writes a book blog introduced to Roz through her London book club circles, and his boyfriend. And we had a really lovely lunch. Upon sitting down, book blog boy produced a bag from Kramer Books, crammed with six volumes – it turned out he’d bought six books for Roz, his top recommendations covering the different aspects of life in America. We were both quite overwhelmed by both the thoughtfulness and generosity. We had a cheery lunch afterwards, chatting about all sorts of things (yet more clever people with exciting jobs), and eventually left with promises of meeting up again.
We turned around and ran straight into a lesbian couple we’d met at a party on our recce visit last month, on their way back from a visit to the women’s art museum. Delightfully stereotypical, and it made us feel very local. And so we headed to Georgetown for some unsuccessful furniture shopping and some more successful chocolate shopping…
That night was our first big Washington expedition – to a storytelling event at the other side of the city. I peered nerdily at the maps until eventually Roz rolled her eyes, threw me in a cab, and soon we emerged at a Hackney-esque area, home to the Atlas Arts Centre and our storytelling night. Other than having to down beers after buying them, only to be told we couldn’t drink in the theatre, it was a brilliant night. The eight stories were all winners from previous storytelling nights throughout the year. Immediately afterwards, we looked up the next one and booked it up!
After dinner we decided to branch out from the ubiquitous Italian and venture to the local Indian restaurant, Taj Mahal. And very nice and cheery it was too, with lovely staff and pleasant food. We sauntered home afterwards, feeling very pleased with ourselves.
This morning the sun was still out and after some pfaffing, breakfast, CV polishing, and fighting with the internet, we headed out on the Circulator bus to Logan Circle to continue our doomed hunt for furniture. But first we needed fuel – in the form of Masa 14 restaurant’s bottomless brunch. Over mimosas, ‘breakfast pizza’, ‘home fries’, and other such tasty morsels, we gathered strength and then headed out to splutter at the cost of sofas and long for a DFS equivalent.
Still lacking in furniture, we took a bus and metro to Friendship Heights, home to lots of big department stores such as Bloomingdales, and also – oh joy – TK Maxx, where we bought lots of items of the sheet/towel/pot variety before hopping sofa-less onto a bus that took us straight home. Excellent.
It’s tempting to stay at home tonight but we haven’t quite mastered shopping yet… and a local Lebanese restaurant is calling…
In which Layla and Roz spend their first DC week in glamorous and less glamorous manners
by Layla
Friday was our one-week anniversary of living in Washington DC. It’s been a funny week. I’ve not been quite sure what to do with myself. Tuesday was a particularly odd day. The sun vanished behind a raincloud. Roz went off to work, and I called my parents, then her mother, then had the landlady fix a couple of things in the flat, then went on a long trek to ‘Target’ and ‘Bed, Bath and Beyond’ in Columbia Heights to buy an array of household items. Typically, I got indecisive and stressed and came back with a rather random array of items as opposed to the sensible list my dear wife had presented to me. And when I say ‘came back’, I mean ‘was driven back by a random stranger’ – when I asked the cashier about the best way back to Georgetown, the posh woman behind me in the queue overheard – she lived practically next door and offered me a lift. On our ride home she pointed out sights of interest and discussed her life as a journalist, covering warzones, while I mused upon the very clever nature of everyone I meet in DC, and my relief that she probably was not going to abduct me…
With Roz out at a work dinner, I prepared for a quiet night in and started feeling a little morose about my possible interminable future as a housewife, but then she called and said she had an hour to spare – so we both dashed to the cool little bar in Kramer Books and drank wine and caught up with our respective days. Very cheery. Then we both pottered off to our events – hers a fancy dinner with glamorous people to discuss something intelligent; me to the late night shops to acquire some coffee for our new cafetiere. But she had found me the contact details of a ‘spouse’ of a colleague who had a proper job, so I started to have hope that life may hold something for me more sensible than housewifeliness (at which, to use an American phrase, I suck).
The next couple of days passed more cheerily, with me making lots of health world contacts, going to an interesting presentation by the World Bank of their new development report on gender equality at the Centre for Global Development (a great think tank near Dupont Circle) and a ‘congressional briefing’ on integrating family planning and HIV services in developing countries, in one of the glamorous, marble-clad government buildings, right next door to the Capitol building (at which I asked a question about whether there were any disadvantages to the approach they suggested, which resulted in my receiving dirty looks from the entire audience, and the panel staring at me, stumped).
We’ve also been doing some evening socializing – a lovely trip to the cinema that’s just a hop, skip and a jump from our flat on Wednesday (My Week With Marilyn – quite enjoyable), and a brilliant St Andrews Day celebration with the Scottish government and various fancies on Thursday, at a museum dedicated to women’s art, randomly. My parents, having heard about our invitation to this decidedly glamorous affair, had immediately ordered sashes in the family tartan for both of us, and we had spent a week waiting on tenterhooks to see if they would arrive. Sure enough, Roz’s PA extracted them from the post room in the nick of time, and we looked excellent. It was a cheery night and our first time meeting a few people nice enough to hope they might become our friends…
Yesterday, I was up early to meet the delightful and intelligent director of global health for another think tank – we had a lovely, and fascinating conversation about global health in the US over lunch, until I realized I had to leave for an event that was so very opposite that it left me feeling entirely confused as to my identity: the official spouses’ coffee morning. This took place in a mansion just outside of town that made me fear Roz ever being invited to anyone else’s house and realize that we might have lived there rather than our little Georgetown flat… The spouses in attendance (9 women and a solitary man, clutching a small daughter for protection) were very nice, but the conversation was absolutely dominated by the discussion of children, of which each attendee had a few (some present; the others mostly at the same school). Children were so dominant in their identities that four of the ‘spouses’ sported gold necklaces proclaiming ‘MUM’ in various scripts. The absence of such a necklace around my neck was rapidly noted by all present.
People tried to engage me in conversation but when I embarrassedly admitted that (1) I did not have children (nor was I desperately trying to acquire some), and (2) I was intending to seek a job, and furthermore, not even a designated ‘spouse’ job, the conversation dried up. I sat there awkwardly, sipping my cup of tea and wondering how to extricate myself from this odd little parallel universe of homework and sports days.
Fortunately one of the spouses was driving home in my direction and gave me a lift (the event clearly finishing in time for the end of the school day). I hopped off at the school gates, walked home through the woods, then up to Roz’s work to snigger at her massive office and have drinks with the boss and his wife, and then – oh joys – it was the weekend!
We had dinner in a pleasant but unremarkable Italian restaurant called Il Ricci, then popped in for a drink in our rather bizarre local pub/restaurant Mie N Yu where we had an unpleasant cocktail and a more pleasant glass of wine amid weird Thai/Turkish décor, a bellydancer, and an incongruous TV showing a basketball game. A fun and quirky end to a fun and quirky week. I wonder what next week will bring…
Friday was our one-week anniversary of living in Washington DC. It’s been a funny week. I’ve not been quite sure what to do with myself. Tuesday was a particularly odd day. The sun vanished behind a raincloud. Roz went off to work, and I called my parents, then her mother, then had the landlady fix a couple of things in the flat, then went on a long trek to ‘Target’ and ‘Bed, Bath and Beyond’ in Columbia Heights to buy an array of household items. Typically, I got indecisive and stressed and came back with a rather random array of items as opposed to the sensible list my dear wife had presented to me. And when I say ‘came back’, I mean ‘was driven back by a random stranger’ – when I asked the cashier about the best way back to Georgetown, the posh woman behind me in the queue overheard – she lived practically next door and offered me a lift. On our ride home she pointed out sights of interest and discussed her life as a journalist, covering warzones, while I mused upon the very clever nature of everyone I meet in DC, and my relief that she probably was not going to abduct me…
With Roz out at a work dinner, I prepared for a quiet night in and started feeling a little morose about my possible interminable future as a housewife, but then she called and said she had an hour to spare – so we both dashed to the cool little bar in Kramer Books and drank wine and caught up with our respective days. Very cheery. Then we both pottered off to our events – hers a fancy dinner with glamorous people to discuss something intelligent; me to the late night shops to acquire some coffee for our new cafetiere. But she had found me the contact details of a ‘spouse’ of a colleague who had a proper job, so I started to have hope that life may hold something for me more sensible than housewifeliness (at which, to use an American phrase, I suck).
The next couple of days passed more cheerily, with me making lots of health world contacts, going to an interesting presentation by the World Bank of their new development report on gender equality at the Centre for Global Development (a great think tank near Dupont Circle) and a ‘congressional briefing’ on integrating family planning and HIV services in developing countries, in one of the glamorous, marble-clad government buildings, right next door to the Capitol building (at which I asked a question about whether there were any disadvantages to the approach they suggested, which resulted in my receiving dirty looks from the entire audience, and the panel staring at me, stumped).
We’ve also been doing some evening socializing – a lovely trip to the cinema that’s just a hop, skip and a jump from our flat on Wednesday (My Week With Marilyn – quite enjoyable), and a brilliant St Andrews Day celebration with the Scottish government and various fancies on Thursday, at a museum dedicated to women’s art, randomly. My parents, having heard about our invitation to this decidedly glamorous affair, had immediately ordered sashes in the family tartan for both of us, and we had spent a week waiting on tenterhooks to see if they would arrive. Sure enough, Roz’s PA extracted them from the post room in the nick of time, and we looked excellent. It was a cheery night and our first time meeting a few people nice enough to hope they might become our friends…
Yesterday, I was up early to meet the delightful and intelligent director of global health for another think tank – we had a lovely, and fascinating conversation about global health in the US over lunch, until I realized I had to leave for an event that was so very opposite that it left me feeling entirely confused as to my identity: the official spouses’ coffee morning. This took place in a mansion just outside of town that made me fear Roz ever being invited to anyone else’s house and realize that we might have lived there rather than our little Georgetown flat… The spouses in attendance (9 women and a solitary man, clutching a small daughter for protection) were very nice, but the conversation was absolutely dominated by the discussion of children, of which each attendee had a few (some present; the others mostly at the same school). Children were so dominant in their identities that four of the ‘spouses’ sported gold necklaces proclaiming ‘MUM’ in various scripts. The absence of such a necklace around my neck was rapidly noted by all present.
People tried to engage me in conversation but when I embarrassedly admitted that (1) I did not have children (nor was I desperately trying to acquire some), and (2) I was intending to seek a job, and furthermore, not even a designated ‘spouse’ job, the conversation dried up. I sat there awkwardly, sipping my cup of tea and wondering how to extricate myself from this odd little parallel universe of homework and sports days.
Fortunately one of the spouses was driving home in my direction and gave me a lift (the event clearly finishing in time for the end of the school day). I hopped off at the school gates, walked home through the woods, then up to Roz’s work to snigger at her massive office and have drinks with the boss and his wife, and then – oh joys – it was the weekend!
We had dinner in a pleasant but unremarkable Italian restaurant called Il Ricci, then popped in for a drink in our rather bizarre local pub/restaurant Mie N Yu where we had an unpleasant cocktail and a more pleasant glass of wine amid weird Thai/Turkish décor, a bellydancer, and an incongruous TV showing a basketball game. A fun and quirky end to a fun and quirky week. I wonder what next week will bring…
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