Re-PADI-fied

I survived !!! I immersed myself completely, head under water with a weird air generating nozzle stuck in mouth and I came back up with a huge smile on my face.

I received both my OWD and Advanced PADI over 5 years ago when I took a year off to travel through SE Asia and China between my Masters and my first job (how am I going to explain this second bout of travelling to my future employer, i don't know). Given the complete lack of underwater diving activity since I took those certificates, I was feeling a little nervous about the idea of giving it a go while in Central and South America. The thought of having a sexy and tanned mexican explaining to me the ins and outs of getting a air tank on my back did feel quite appealing for a minute or two but reason got the best of me and I opted for the (equally sexy) french version.

To generalise, I would say that French people are not the friendliest of bunch (an english person in a pub beats a french person in a brasserie - no contest!). But these guys (and gals) were really nice, open and friendly people. David, my one-to-one instructor (jealous? you should be - this guy was hot!) went through the basics of scuba diving in less than 30 minutes while we were on the boat powering out of Nice to our destination (I think I had initially covered this material over a few days while doing the Open Water). We went through the signs ok - not ok - no air - i am cold (etc) all very important signs to know while you are deep underwater and the only other way of communicating would be through "the panic raised eyebrows look". We also did a few crucial exercises such as "lose your air thingy and get it back" or "take the mask off, don't panic and put it back on". But my favourite must have been the "pretend your buddy has no air, what do you?". I personally think these exercises are really important to make this activity safe (or as safe as it can be). A funny fact: the french have their own scuba diving certification system which has a completely different way of teaching and does not require an irregular diver (like me) to go through these exercises. Scary.

Anyway, I had a blast. It's a great feeling to be able to breathe underwater. Although the Med is a great place to swim, I was spoilt in m previous experiences in Thailand and Oz. Today, I think I saw more scuba divers than fish! Needless to say that I am going back on Friday!

On the negative side, the friggin' sun allergy thingy has come back with a fury (luckily my face has been spared!) despite putting protection 50 on. I am popping antihistamines like candy - but unfortunately i am still feeling itchy as hell. Why didn't I get my dad's egyptian skin?

28th August - Tomorrow Diving

The last time i got a mask, flippers and air tanks on (all at the same time) was 5 years ago when I took my advanced PADI in Oz. So I have decided to take a refresher course in diving (better do it here than in some dodgy caribbean location eh!) .

I have been hanging out at the 50 m pool, trying to get some laps in. I've started my "training" (no, i haven't decided to swim over to London in September) with sessions of 20 laps a day with 2 laps increases everytime i go. I've bought a 10 ticket pass, which I plan to finish. That's the p-l-a-n. That's the one thing that London lacks - a good swimming pool. Enough with the crappy LA Fitness 10 metre pools. London should have something like this, but indoors (let's be realistic!)

Piscine du Port, Monaco

The temperature has been hitting the roof recently, averaging 28C during the day. The negative is that my allergy has started up again so i am popping antihistamines like there's no tomorrow.

26th August - Dad's Birthday

A big shout out to my Dad, who celebrated his 59th Birthday today(clap clap clap!). We have been celebrating his birthday over the past two days. I never thought I would say this but my tummy cannot take any more cake. Even if you offered me the most delicious looking Fraisier, I would say no.

Birthday Cake No. 1

On the first day (Saturday) , we soaked up the sun and mountain air in Luceram, a small village in the "arriere pays nicois" (translated as "somewhere in the Nice back country"). The back country is famous for its artisanal products, of which olive oil is probably the most famous.















It's a fun 45 minutes drive up the mountain from Nice. There were very few cars and the roads were wide enough for me to pretend to be a rally driver without scaring my passengers to death. Although, they did look a bit green by the time we got up there.

Day two (today) was spend on the boat. Boat outings are quite an expedition. The picnic has to be prepared with roast chicken, fresh gambas, vine tomatoes, cheese, baguette being the norm. Then, of course the Rose wine and Champagne have to be chilled (in advance) so that they can be enjoyed at the right temperature once we decide where to drop the anchor. Last but not least, the numerous friends have to be notified of the time and place of the "anchor drop". This time, we ended up in the Golfe Bleu, a beach in Roquebrune (the city next to Monaco) in the company of two other boats which were quickly moored to our boat (yes, it becomes a 3 boat party with people hoping from one boat to the next!) . We were lucky, the weather was perfect, the sea was jellyfish-free and we didn't have to get rescued by the coast guards! It turned out to be a fantastic family day out!

Maybe I will get a tan....

Day 3 or is it Day 5 ?

....I can't even remember. Days of the weeks are getting blurry. I guess that's the clear sign of "decompressing".

I have been hanging out with V these past few days. It's been a strange but extremely enjoyable experience to have her around these parts of the world. What are the odds that V's aunt works in the same city I grew up in ? In my world the odds are small, probably as small as having an ex colleague (and now friend) with in-laws that know my parents.

I got to witness an extremely cool and novel way of using a surf board and a boat. We've all heard of water-skiing and now wakeboarding. Well, get your hands together for the new and improved "surfing- the- wake- of- a- boat-with-no-hands" experience.... never been seen before!

So how does it work?

First you need a powerful boat, a surf board, a rope and an able body (preferably tanned).

Add a fair bit of agility, balance and dexterity and you might manage to stand up on the board while being pulled by the roaring boat.

Slowly pull yourself close to the back of the boat and once you hit the wake, let go of the rope.

There you have it - you're surfing the wake of the boat!

I thought I would add the one picture I managed to take where our experienced specimen is about to crash into the water (it's only fair - let us remember that we are after all human!).

Imperia, Ligura

I drove to Italy today to a small town near Imperia (the town after San Remo) which is part of what the italians call "the Italian Cote d'Azur" (yes, i know it sounds weird but we're not that far!). Although I am completely biased... trust me, the italian part is not as nice as the french part. I always find italian villages to be quite depressing, especially the ones nested up high in the mountains.

I met up with an ex-colleague who has also left London and now lives in Geneva. We have this ongoing joke about mis-perceptions. Before the Euro kicked in French people (ie my family) would drive to Italy because we thought everything was cheaper. Once, I actually told him this and he burst out laughing. It appears that Italian people (ie his family) would drive to France because everything was cheaper there too...at least I am pretty sure the Limoncello was cheaper in Italy :)

I could finish this post talking about the French post office worker that I nearly had to aggress in order to get a prepaid envelope that was different to the one he was trying to flog off. But that would be pointless as the delights of french customer service is known by most already.

Aaah....loving it.

Mi casa es.... mi casa

Well ... as they say:"home sweet home"!

How does it feel? Familiar but odd. I can't quite put my finger on it. Actually my mind probably thinks that I am just on holiday and that I will be back in London prepping for September meetings in a few days. But Noooooh!

First, let me give a little hi-lo about my journey home. I had planned for the cheapo shipping company to pick up my boxes on Monday, pleading for a pre-15h pick up time. No such luck. I ended up waiting not so patiently, swearing sporadically at my dodgy internet connection and getting more and more nervous by the minute. In the end, I had to leave (post 15h) not knowing if my boxes were going to be picked up. Needless to say, I was already stressed (PS: the Voovit guy picked them up in the end - phew and hurray!) .

As I made my way to Standsted, I was already imagining the Orange Coats behind the EZYJET desk rubbing their hands with glee as they slapped me with a bill for excess weight. The gods must have taken pity, as I sailed through check- in and airport security without having to pay anything (hip hip...). Also, I was cunning enough to find a loophole in the hated-by-many 1 bag carry bag policy. You can walk through security unharmed with one bag and anything else as long as it isn't in a bag (I managed to pass security carrying (in my hand) a bulky (but oh so cool) piggy bank (yes, a leaving present)). So it is literally one bag only. Cunning, moi?

Today was spent wondering where I was going to put all my stuff. My mother has taken over my room and feigned indignation when I asked for more space. She muttered, "but you have those four shelves, do you need more?". Can I go to jail for mental homicide?

I survived....

After spending three years walking in and out of the Regent Street office - I walked out for the last time (sounds so dramatic!) yesterday. I was touched to see so many friendly faces and I will miss working there. I even managed to get a few good drunken hugs (I am a sucker for a good hug!) How does it feel to be out of what the french call " la vie active". I guess I will tell you on Monday when everyone goes to work and I don't (inward gasp!).

Leaving London is an odd one. Having lived here for the past 5 years, I have grown accustomed to many things: god awful public transport, drinking standing up, seeing Big Ben every so often, people apologising when you bump into them (I like that one!), being able to go for a drink after work without it being planned 2 weeks in advance, an efficient and stimulating working environment....i could continue. But the point is that I have been in my comfort zone (and a good one at that!).

So now what? Well, the first thing I will need to do is adapt to a life without structure. What am i doing on Tuesday? Dunno. On October 27th ? Dunno. Apart from Christmas day (which I can predict we will wearing crowns and opening presents), the next 6 months will be completely structure-less. Am i excited? Yup but at the same time I am feeling disconnected. It's odd.

Ok, I still have a lot of packing to do (moan) and Sunday will be spent doing some lastminute shopping (woohooo...thanks for the vouchers!) . My flight leaves on Monday evening. I hope my parents don't forget to empty the trunk of the car before picking me up from the airport. I don't fancy sitting with my bags on my lap during the drive home (yes, it's happened many times before!).

Voovit...

My lounge is now nicely decorated with an extra 3 Voovit boxes . Voovit is a lo-cost shipping company which has provided me with the means to ship three boxes full of useless stuff home. My parents as you can imagine are extremely happy about this. I don't think they were expecting the spare room (i.e. my old bedroom) to become my "stuff room". But there you have it. I can already picture my mum dragging me back into my room and repeatedly asking me "do you really need/wear this?", in the vain hope that I will get rid of my precious possessions. I wonder if money and blackmail would work?

I have just read an excellent article from the Economist about cliches. Isn't it amazing how languages evolve and change with time. I will always remember the first few months living with V and L, spending numerous evenings in the company of their friends trying to decipher their language (ie. French but "young people's french!"). I am happy to say that I am now fully fluent in "le langage de la rue".

I could conclude this post by mentioning Thursday night's evening at the Albannach where one drink turned into five ... but that would be pointless :) . Who am I going to change the world with come next week ?

One before last....

One down only one to go. Weekends that is.

This weekend was spent with friends, enjoying the weather and a few of London's fine institutions (i.e. the pub) .

Saturday, I willingly undertook a little self-hurt by getting my eyebrows shaped using an ancient persian technique called threading. Once my eyebrows were shaped we were ready to go and hit the town red (which we did) although we didn't get very far , ending up in "Clockwork" (down the road).

Sunday was spent strolling through Hyde Park with friends, trying desperately to burn off the succulent breakfast/brunch from Ottoemezzo. Although extremely pleasant, I managed to sprain my ankle in the process. The injury occured while undertaking the extremely risky "text while walking" manoeuver. Luckily, my ankles have become injury resistent with the years, or maybe the many ankle injuries I sustained playing basket ball have made me more resistent.

I also mustered enough strength to go for a run at St James Park. Proud of myself ? Yes, I am ! I actually think that I might be getting into this running thing. Forced into it when my gym subscription stopped (I call it the poor man's gym), I have surprised myself and actually enjoyed it.

I actually paid for a cinema ticket this weekend. What do I mean ? Well, I have been the happy owner of UGC card for the past two years, which I have used extensively and actually made a profit out of ! I recommend you see an excellent independent film called Waitress with the actress from Felicity (anyone remember Felicity?) . Although it is a romantic comedy it has a bit of an edge to it, which might appeal to cinema-goers that avoid rom-com like the plague (you know who you are!). The film got good reviews at the Sundance Film Festival. Sadly the director of the film Adrienne Shelly was murdered before the film was released.

Tonight, I will re-live my teenage years by watching Dirty Dancing in London's West End.

Quote of the Day

"World shares continues to slide, amid fears of a credit crunch, we've been saying that. . .oh my god there is a dog with two noses!"

By yours truly (reading the BBC website a few minutes ago!)

Exeter, MAFI

(writing this post listening to Mana - Mana Rocks!)

I met up with two friends from my Exeter years last night. I hadn't seen them for 5 years or so. I always getting mixed feelings about meeting up will old friends. Part of the conversation always revolves around "what have you been doing" (translated as - have you done better than me!). I usually enjoy the second part more, which is when you managed to bridge the gap with the past and start talking about the present / future.

Both of my friends have just arrived in London, having spent the past 5 years working in Exeter and studying for a PhD. My PhD friend is now working for an investment bank. He looked tired having only been in the job for 10 months or so. London is a tough place, people live by the "work hard, play hard" ethos but few actually munster the strength to "play hard". But as he said, it was a choice. It was nice to talk to him as he is going through a similar experience to the one I have had to think about (although my "pb" is much smaller and more complicated - well i think so !). The key question is when you chose work (over the rest) how do you go about living a balanced life? In the end, we concluded that it was all a matter of timing and ultimately choices. Helpful but problem still unsolved :)

On a personal note, I wish I could concentrate on the good as opposed to the complicated. I am a ball of emotions at the moment. I have to deal with leaving the people that have made my final year in London rich in discovery, laughter and happiness. It's a lot tougher than I thought it would be.

Classic CV

I have just had the opportunity to take a sneak peak at a CV which has triggered a stream of tears to roll down my face. Sad, I hear you ask ? Not at all, these are laughter tears!!!

To put this in context, I do not work in the "ubber" trendy media industry, or the ultra competitive Investment Banking world. None of that. I work in investment consulting, which is more relaxed but at the same time benefits from the presence of the "almighty actuary".

"An Actuary in Action"

Actuaries are finance professionals that look at the financial impact of risk and uncertainty. This is key to the UK investment consulting environment as most of our clients are pension funds. Pension funds basically have a stream of liabilities that will be incurred at some point in the future. So they use investment consultants to help them find a mix of assets that can generate enough return to cover these future liabilities (very basic definition -sic) So there are two parts to the equation, the asset side (where should you invest) and the liabilities side (how much risk do you have and what are your "future costs"). And the winner of the game is the one that manages to get more assets than liabilities and ends up in a surplus.

Enough of the jargon. Actuaries are highly technical people, who spend their time on Excel, modelling liabilities (again, amongst other things!). To give you an idea, there's an joke that says "Actuaries are the people that find accountants too exciting!". You get the picture.

So back to my CV. This guy hits full "actuary" marks, technical degree, FIA, CFA, relevant experience..etc..etc..and he's foreign (woohoo!). I skim read the document and reach the final sentence, the one that says Interests, and there it hits me.

" Mr. X is a passionate yo-yo player" !!!!!

Enough said.

Thought of the day

Don't you just hate it when people selectively reply to emails.

One day best friend, next day silence.

Nicely done.

H-a-m-m-o-c c-r-e-a-t-i-n-g h-a-v-o-c

We waited and waited for what seemed like an eternity. And Saturday finally, our prayers were answered. The Sun exhaled a few rays for the greatest pleasure of light-craving Londonners. It had gotten so bad that some people were on the verge of engaging in Mayan-like behaviour to entice it and lure it out of its hole. Finaaally!

Last night, V had the best idea possible for this time 0f year and purchased a hammoc. Although our flat is relatively small, we are lucky enough to have a bit of open space, which takes the form of a small terrace looking over the Sainsbury's depot (yes, it's luxurious!). So luxurious, that the hammoc has now taken over the terrace and currently presents itself as the sole occupier of the premises. I imagine that the table and fold out chair are less than happy.

Once we figured out how to "build" the hammoc (teamwork rules!), we took turns to test the merchandise. We decided to get the shisha out, hit the music box and kick back together.

We have only a few of these left which made the evening even more special. Change is on the horizon and as it gets closer, the reality of it is setting in.

Tourist Prayer

How many of you can relate to this ?

A Tourist's Prayer

Heavenly Father, Look down on us your humble, obedient tourist servants, who are doomed to travel this earth, taking photographs, mailing postcards, buying souvenirs and walking around in drip-dry underwear.

We beseech you Lord, to see that our luggage is not lost and our overweight baggage goes unnoticed at the customs.

Give us this day divine guidance in the selection of our hotels that we may find our reservation honored, our rooms made up and hot water running from the faucets.
Lead us, dear Lord, to good, inexpensive restaurants where the food is superb, the waiter friendly and wine included in the price of the meal.

Give us wisdom to tip correctly in currencies we do not understand. Forgive us for under tipping out of ignorance and over tipping our of fear. Make the natives love us for what we are and not for what we can contribute to their worldly goods.

Grant us the strength to visit the museums, the cathedrals,the palaces and the castles listed as "musts" in the guidebooks. And if, per chance, we skip and historic monument, to take a nap after lunch, have mercy on us for our flesh is weak.

(This part of the prayer is for husbands)
Dear Lord, keep our wives from shopping sprees and protect them from "bargains" they don't need or can't afford. Lead them not into temptation, for they know not what they do.

(This part of the prayer is for the wives)
Almighty Father, keep our husbands from looking at the foreign women and comparing them to us. Save them from making fools of themselves in cafes and nightclubs. Above all, do not forgive them for their trespasses for they know exactly what they do.

(Everyone)
And when our trip is over and we return to our loved ones, grant us the favor of finding someone who will look at our picutures and listen to our stories, so our lives as tourists will not have been in vain.

Slow (2)

Ah, yes - the "healthy" plan didn't go as well as expected.

The culprit: An over-consumption of alcoholic beverages in one of London's most acclaimed meat markets (TgrTgr) -

I blame A for getting everyone in the party mood. We witnessed some amazing dance moves from a variety of drunken characters. Aaaah...another highly enjoyable "leaving drinks" send-off. I am slightly worried about my upcoming send off (only two weeks to go :))

And now we suffer.

Slow....

Is it the weather or the sleepy atmosphere that has made the office feel ghostly. Lethargy seems to be ruling the castle at the moment.

A friend of mine is getting married in September, and the urge to lose half my body weight in the space of a few weeks (however unrealistic that actually is!) is feeling extremely appealing . I had already sub-consciously decided to adopt a healthy lifestyle for the next few weeks with the aim of becoming one with the term "detox". However, my plan to hit the ground running (so to speak) on the first of August tragically fell apart when one of my colleagues announced this morning that we were the second of the August and that I had already missed one day (does a salad (and glass of wine) at Pizza Express really count?)

Day 1 - missed out completely
Day 2 - not bad - fruit for breakfast , salad at lunch time and apples in between.

Please give me the strength to embrace all the green foods of this world and avoid all the"nasties" that tempt me on a daily basis.