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I can drive around a place, even slowly and with intelligent running commentary, but I can’t decide whether I want to live there until I walk its streets. So Saturday afternoon, kids in tow, we headed for Hampstead.

Friday afternoon, during our nineteen flats in one day sprint, we found one that stood out. It was too expensive, too large, too fancy. But it had a private garden that opened onto a 3 acre communal garden — and the garden had kids. Not sculpted rows of flowerbeds, not tennis courts, not cute little park benches, but open green fields for ball playing, trees you could climb, and a small playground. There were people playing in the communal garden (others we saw had been empty) and the agent told us that the community would get together on occasion for cookouts and such.

So it isn’t Eno Commons, but it looked like it could be home.

Our flat hunting consultant, Linda, recognizing how much we liked the flat, immediately scheduled an appointment for us to see it again on Saturday with the kids.

The flat is very close to the Finchley Road station on the Jubilee line. We took the tube to Swiss Cottage, the next stop to the south, and walked to the flat. Finchley Road has restaurants that appeal to us, a thrift store, a dollar store sort of place, a large Waitrose grocery store, hardware stores, a furniture store. Lots of useful-looking places to acquire what we might need.

The street itself is beautiful, filled with well-preserved Victorian buildings. We strolled down one side of Greencroft Gardens and back the other, admiring the decorative architectural elements. We were somewhat hoping we’d find the nearest state school, but failed at that, finding instead a private Montessori.

Our second tour of the flat only confirmed its magnificence. The kids were delighted with their brightly lit bedroom and the gardens. I was pleased to find that the kitchen had a large refrigerator and both a washer and dryer. The flat also has lots of built-in storage, which appeals a great deal. The only really big drawback is that it is unfurnished. And expensive.

We left Greencroft Gardens and decided to walk more of Hampstead, headed toward our second most likely flat and Hampstead Heath. Unfortunately, we had not realize how much hill we’d have to climb to reach High Street. Although the houses were lovely, and I still cannot see the street named “Frognal” and not smile, Tallis was in a thoroughly foul mood before we crested the hill.

We checked out a bit of High Street, which Linda thought we’d find appealing. No, not really. Shops and restaurants that expensive don’t get much business from me, and nothing but the overpriced ice cream shop appealed to the kids. Garrett discovered that he likes salted caramel. Drat! Now I won’t be able to hoard that flavor all for myself.

By the time we got to Hampstead Heath, Tallis was too irritable to even enjoy the open space in which to run around. He was also terrified that the English ivy climbing the trees was poison ivy. Eventually he snapped out of his funk enough to climb some trees, but then he was outraged when we announced that it was time to go home for dinner.

We’ve been living with only what we carried onto the airplane, and none of our family games made the cut. Tom looked up game stores (how I’d make it about without a smartphone these days…I have no idea) and we decided to add one stop on the way home to buy something our family could play together. Only Tallis, even when told this plan, and even when told that yes he could spend his allowance, refused to come. Pitched a super-stubborn silent tantrum and refused to enter the tube station. We dragged him onto the tube, but as we attempted to exit, he fought us so much we had to stop and tell him that if he didn’t cut it out, the staff were going to assume we were kidnapping him. That changed his behavior instantly, and the rest of our day went smoothly. But oh, living with that kid right now….

We found one store that carried a few games, but more “fandom” type stuff. I saw some women dressed in Lolita fashion, and I really would rather not have seen them. Ladies, you’re supposed to look CUTE when you put on your costume, not scary bad. Tallis and Garrett eyed the Star War Legos, the Munchkin games, and the Magic cards, trying to figure out how much they could get with their allowances. Tom couldn’t find what he wanted, and the next shop was only two blocks away, so we left.

The Orc’s Nest WAS the right store. A tiny space, but filled floor to ceiling with board, card, and dice games, a sizable number of which we already own. Each of us found a nook and started browsing…until Weyland announced the dreaded “I have to pee.” No, they didn’t have facilities, but there was a nearby Pizza Hut that might let us in? And off we went….

Luckily for me, Pizza Hut was nearby and accommodating. Luckily for Pizza Hut, Weyland recognized what he smelled and made immediate and firm plans for what he wanted for dinner. After finalizing our gaming purchases we decided to give the UK version of American food a try. It was delightful, though somewhat more upscale (shrimp appetizers at Pizza Hut? sure!) and harder on the wallet. My veggie pizza even came topped with wild rocket (a popular salad with a nice bite, like watercress).

We rounded out the evening with a silly fun game of Munchkin Bites. Small World was a hit with everyone when we played Sunday. I’d love to make a post titled “and on the seventh day, we rested” but really, what is there worth sharing about a peaceful day gaming and watching television at the flat?

On Tuesday, August 28, Tom and I really got down to serious flat hunting.

We started by giving Garrett and Tallis something more interesting to do: a sports-themed summer camp. I combed the internet and found only one camp available in all of London. I suppose that everything else was either full, or the programs didn’t want to run a camp on the last partial week before fall term started (bank holiday on Monday). We were lucky. The camp had swimming, tennis, arts and games; both of them could go to the same camp; it was only a half mile walk from our flat; and they had an “extended hours” option that we used on Friday for our flat-seeing marathon. The boys loved it, Tallis made a friend with whom he had a fun playdate this week, and Tom and I could walk and walk and walk neighborhoods.

Tuesday we tackled Notting Hill. Linda, the home search consultant that Google contracted to help us, recommended that area. It has a great street full of interesting shops and a regular street market. It is full of parks, although most of them are gated and if you don’t live on the block, you can’t get the key. Still, very pretty. We stumbled upon a children’s library and took a storybook break for Weyland, who otherwise was just riding along on our backs, looking at the world. Just south of Notting Hill is Holland Park, which has an assortment of lovely playgrounds (so grateful that Weyland napped past that bit) and ball fields and a cafe. Just south of that is a more upscale district where we had a delicious Indian lunch.

We kept up our habit of wandering into rental agencies. (Although we were seriously inquiring after flats, it was also a good way to find a toilet and refill our water bottles.) After lunch an agent showed us two properties — one was a dump with a landlady who didn’t like kids, the other was a pretty cool maisonette. “Maisonette” means that an old house was converted, but instead of putting each flat on one floor, the floors are stacked one on top of another in a narrow space. Entertaining effect, might be a bit of a pain to live in. The one we saw was nice, and it was entertainingly close to Simon Cowell’s residence (our agent pointed it out) but we weren’t ready to make an offer and other offers were on the table already, so we let it go.

Wednesday we met Linda for the first time. She drove us around (and oh boy, am I glad I’m not trying to drive and park in London) to show us several likely neighborhoods. She also had an assortment of flats for us to tour, but all of them were wrong. Too expensive, often too large, too fancy, wrong sorts of neighborhoods. After several hours looking at flats and talking with her about what we wanted, what we liked, what we needed, she finally admitted that we were like no Americans she had ever helped relocate. I think this meant: grocery shopping and a decent kitchen was more important than nearby restaurants and bars, and we didn’t expect huge flats.

She picked an excellent restaurant for lunch — Banana Tree — and that gave us real hope for her ability to select flats for us.

Thursday we “did our homework” and walked through Islington, as she recommended. It would be a very convenient tube ride for Tom, but she’s right — not much greenery or park space. Boring shopping district. Even strolling down Raleigh Street (random detour through residential area) didn’t make us fall in love. Or maybe it was the intermittent rain. We told her to cross that off the list of places to look. And then we went back to the flat to rest for the afternoon. Even dedicated flat hunters get tired.

We also collected information about which secular state schools had spaces for our boys. There are Church of England and Roman Catholic schools that are free state schools, but those don’t seem right for our family. Many schools had no more spots for children in both years 3 and 6, and so our search was narrowed rather a bit by school availability. Without even  limiting for school quality or reputation, we found our housing impeded by school districting. I know this is normal, but it was the first time WE’D experienced having to juggle this factor in our home choice!

Friday our marathon started at 8:30. Weyland, who had been nothing but a little charmer on Wednesday, showed clearly how sick of this in-and-out-of-car-and-flats routine he was. He spent many short trips in the car riding on my lap, grabbing a quick nurse and avoiding the car seat straps. Show children just once that the rules can be bent, and you’ll suffer for it forever.

We were immediately cheered by the flats Linda had selected — the first three we looked at all seemed like good possibilities, and one was downright fantastic. She had preferentially scheduled garden flats after seeing how delighted Weyland had been on Wednesday by all the outside spaces. OK, he’d been delighted by the fifth floor balconies with flimsy railings, too, but I hadn’t been. Garden flats were a WAY better compromise.

One space that really awed us was a gothic house built for a wealthy merchant, that had been split into flats. Wood floors! High ceilings! Stunning shared garden! Although it would be a fantasy home for  history geeks, it was not right for kids. Sadness.

There were some furnished flats, blah but livable. There were plenty of unfurnished ones. We even looked at one place that was larger than the house we own in Durham. A couple of places were carpeted with white or very light carpets — no way on those. And carpeted dining room? Are you KIDDING?

Some were close to Hampstead Heath — very pretty “wild” outdoor space. Many had sweet little private gardens, although every time we would comment approvingly on the “little” garden, the agent we were with was usually quick to point out how spacious the garden was. Sorry guys, size descriptors do vary with your frame of reference, and no, we’re not adapted to London living yet.

One fairly likely place had the ODDEST sort of utility room. It was set up with a full washer and dryer (not this miniature combined washer /dryer contraption, which based on my experiences with the one in our temporary flat, is entirely inadequate for a family of five) but the washer was the only thing you could reach easily, and you had to bend over through a four foot high door to do that. To get to the dryer, you had to lean to the left, past the washer, and you could only half open the dryer door. Converted historic houses are WAY cooler than custom-built residential buildings, but they do have their share of quirks.

We came home exhausted with pages of notes and only one clear winner. We needed a weekend to think about the options, list the pros and cons, and talk to the kids.

Hunting for a flat is mentally and physically EXHAUSTING. It would be less confusing if I knew anything about London. It would  be less physically taxing if I were more fit. According to my pedometer, last week I walked about twice as far as my stateside norm.

Day One: Saturday, August 25th

After many days looking at flats online, this was our first afternoon “on the ground” investigating neighborhoods. We went by the Google offices on Buckingham Palace Road, where we used the printer and snagged some healthy snacks. Food does wonders for improving the moods of children.

Then we tried to open a bank account, but were unable to do so. We’ll have to wait until Tom’s first day of work, when he’ll be able to get the appropriate paperwork in order. Until then, we’ll just keep using our U.S. credit card and paying the fees for currency exchange.

Just after the bank stop, rain started. It was harmless enough at first but grew steadily heavier, and since we lacked umbrellas (it had been a gorgeous blue sky moments before!), we took shelter in the offices of a letting agent. There seems to be one of these on every other corner. So many different agents! So many different websites to peruse!

While we looked at fliers about potential properties, the skies opened up. The agent we were with commented on the unpredictability of the weather and the inaccuracy of forecasts. We showed him the up-to-date doppler radar we were accustomed to consulting in North Carolina and he was amazed. Weather Underground, oh how we miss you.

When the rain lessened, we left and set off to see some of the streets with potential flats. Down by the Tate Britain, the rain intensified again. When we got tired of lurking in a bus shelter, we slogged toward the nearest tube stop. We were quickly soaked to the skin and miserably cold. Such experiences are NOT a good way to convince either adults or children of the beauty and desirability of a neighborhood.

That first Saturday afternoon we walked from Victoria Station (across from the Google offices) through bits of Westminster and Pimlico. Victoria and the area just to the west are way too expensive for us. Westminster and Pimlico have affordable properties, but our housing consultant insists that they are not for us — lots of transient people, lots of professionals who rent something there for the week and go home on the weekends, too much assisted housing, too little shopping nearby. Tom would be able to walk to work, but there probably wouldn’t be a good community for the kids.

Sunday morning we ignored housing questions and instead enjoyed the Museum of London. Well, four of us enjoyed it; Tallis grumped and complained the whole way through. We only covered the exhibits about prehistory, Roman times, and the great fire of 1666. Can you believe that the kids wanted to skip the Medieval section entirely? We will definitely have to go back.

Sunday afternoon we spent at home. There are three televisions in this flat, and the kids love them. I have a new Android, and they vie for chances to game on that. The couch cushions and drapes also make fantastic play forts, and we did pack an assortment of toys.

We are so close to St. Paul’s that Sunday before each service a cacophony of bells cascades through the open windows. Shopping for dinner just before a service, we got to watch the end of the procession of notables in fancy robes as they entered the cathedral. The cars parked beside the building were all decorated with heraldic crests. Interesting.

Monday was a bank holiday, and we spent it being low-budget tourists: we walked from our flat south across the Thames on the Millenium Bridge, then east along the riverbank until the Tower Bridge. Along the way we looked at the peregrine falcons on the Tate Modern using the RSPB scopes, the reconstructed Globe Theatre, a Tudor tallship and a WWII light cruiser, some lovely and diverse architecture spanning the centuries, the outside of the Clink Prison Museum (Tallis was oddly interested in paying the entrance fee), the London Bridge, an outdoor exhibit of large photographs mostly of people in war zones or areas of famine, many different artistically decorated sculptures of Wenlock and Mandeville, the Tower of London, a pay toilet that wouldn’t accept our coins, multiple restaurants and shopping districts that didn’t seem quite worth the effort of stopping to sample, a touchable 3D map of the buildings near Tower Bridge, construction-obstructed sidewalks, a building made out of pretty green marble, street vendors selling tempting roasted nuts, and the ruins of Winchester Palace.

We stopped to read maps so often that now Weyland puts up a fuss if we attempt to walk past a large map without consulting it. There is one every few minutes along major routes in the city, but really, do YOU want to tell the curious two-year-old that reading a map is not important?

A couple days after arriving, I thought “why did I pack these useless CLOTHES? We need familiar FOOD!”

Things will improve once we get a permanent location…because I won’t rent anywhere that doesn’t have a good-sized grocery nearby. For now, we’re in the City, in the middle of the banking district. The shops cater to business types zipping in and out to grab a bite; they carry few basic ingredients. It was comical trying to get the man (admittedly a non-native English speaker) to understand that we wanted cinnamon. You know, cinnamon? The powdery spice? For my kids to put on their porridge in the morning? Never mind.

My unconventional grocery shopping habits make my frustration worse. I like to do a huge ($300) shopping trip every few weeks, stocking up on items on steep discount, buying few items at full price. I kept a rather full pantry. When organic raisins went on sale, I bought not two boxes, but twelve. I gave away loads of food when we moved because 6 weeks was nowhere near enough time for us to eat our stockpile.

Now I’m pining for simple things…salsa, refried beans, and tortillas. Peanut butter in large jars. Whole grain crackers. Parmesan cheese for pasta. Plain raisins, not a fancy gourmet mix. Bags of frozen vegetables I can add to dinner at the last minute.

I’m buying convenience foods because they’re all I can get — not one huge tub of yogurt plus frozen berries to add, but individual disposable yogurt cups. Bagged salads, not heads. Single serving meat pies. My kids are confused — I never buy this!

They also don’t appreciate the frequent trips. I fill a cloth bag or two (thank goodness I had the presence of mind to pack those in my luggage) daily. Five people eat a lot of food, and I don’t have a large car to fill with two weeks worth of groceries. The kids are getting tired of the trips to the three different nearby markets. And I really have to go to them all on different days — each carries a slightly different selection, and the kitchen cupboards are empty.

We never eat out this much, either. I just can’t come up with much dinner variety from these markets. But eating out is so EXPENSIVE. Makes me feel like a tourist.

The only thing we really love about the local Marks & Spencer Simply Food is the 7:00 hour, when the staff goes through marking down everything that needs to be sold that day, especially baked goods. I came home with a big bag of bread and pastries last night — enough for dessert, breakfast, snack, and lunch today. And we still have a whole grain loaf to enjoy with our dinner.

We arrived Thursday on a red eye. I got  a couple quick catnaps between re-settling a restless toddler. Thankfully the flight attendants didn’t mind him sleeping in my arms instead of buckled in as he should have been.

Our meal arrangement worked well by accident. I was brought my vegetarian meal before the main carts rolled through, so Weyland could start eating early. When the cart came by I could choose a meal for him, and whatever he didn’t want to eat, I could nibble. Even so, I finished much more slowly that most passengers. Taking care of a toddler is time consuming.

We sat in the center aisle, so we had limited views of the morning sun over the English countryside, but still, landing was emotional. All this work to get here, and…now I was here! Another country, a new adventure. A chance to learn…a gift from my beloved husband. I admit to a few tears.

Then came lines for immigration and baggage collecting and customs (which wasn’t too bad, honestly).  I saw the Paralympic wheelchair racing team from Australia. Then the interesting trick of cramming all our luggage (three 49.5 pound bags, five back packs, and one standard size carry on) plus five passengers and a carseat into a standard black cab. Honestly, the cabbie wasn’t sure we’d fit.

The ride through town was exhilarating. Besides Olympic signage, there are still patriotic banners left from the Diamond Jubilee. Mostly, I was so glad to be HERE. Cute, narrow houses! Ornate churches! Bright green parks and seemingly impossible trees dotting everywhere, despite the city! New, sparkling, interesting architecture!

We drove past the Natural History Museum, and my heart gave a lurch. I was GOING to spend time there, plenty of time there, and I would take my kids there, too. I felt a real blast of “you used to be a science geek, you still love this stuff” and that almost drowned out the awe of the next sight: the Victoria and Albert Musuem. The V&A! THE V&A. I’ve looked at so many books with images of their works, spent so much time looking at their online collections…and now I was here and could see the real stuff.

Our temporary lodgings are business apartments in the City of London. The relocation agent gave us two choices the day before we flew, and we chose the one right by the Cathedral of St. Paul.  We knew we wouldn’t end up living there, and the boys were fascinated recently by learning about the City of London (as opposed to London…for details, watch this video by C. G. P. Grey). So from the very first day, the boys have hunted for the city crest and marveled at the dragons which guard the City entrances.

Getting close to our apartments was easy, but the cabbie had some difficulty locating the exact address. It didn’t help when a street he tried to enter was blocked because the previous Saturday it had changed from two way to one way! But we arrived, unloaded, paid him almost half the cash we had in our wallets (having changed all our US dollars in the airport) and stumbled blearily into bed.

I can’t believe that I’m here, but I am. I’m writing from a temporary apartment in the City of London, having used today’s bank holiday simply to take a long walk along the Thames with Tom and the kids. I’m here. In England. For the first time ever. And I’m going to live here for the next year.

The members of my family here with me:

Tom, software engineer for Google. His 40th birthday is coming up in three weeks. His company is paying for this crazy adventure because they want him (well, someone who works on the Chrome software) here in London working with the Android team. They’ve done all sorts of things to help with relocation, but we’ve really pushed to make everything happen as quickly as possible so that the boys can enroll in school before the start of fall term. Tom is looking forward to joining an amateur medieval music group in London, doing some rapier practice, and generally soaking up the history that the city has to offer.

Garrett, age ten. He’s been homeschooled thus far and is feeling nervous about starting at a regular state school next week. I have concerns about him fitting in — he’s introverted, deliberately looks different (long hair in a ponytail) and has decidedly geeky interests like Magic the Gathering, Minecraft, and Dungeons and Dragons. But he’s smart and I think I’ll be able to help him transition to normal schoolwork. It took a little while to convince him, but he’s now solidly on board with the idea that this move is a grand adventure. I think partly it is that he is so adult focused, and so many adults have said what a great opportunity this is for us, he now believes them.

Tallis, age seven. He is the most extroverted member of our family, and thus the most miserable, as he has just been plucked from the only home he remembers (we moved to Durham when we was two) and from his network of neighborhood and homeschooling friends. He is also extremely nervous about the start of school, because his reading is well below grade level. He loves listening to stories and has a great grasp of vocabulary and plot comprehension, but he doesn’t enjoy the mechanics of sounding out words and reading for himself. I hadn’t been pushing him because Garrett was also at this point at this age, and he is already reading above grade level, because some education philosophies (like Waldorf) think that 7 is still young to teach reading, and because Tallis has such a stubborn streak that fighting with him to learn something that he didn’t want to learn didn’t seem like a winning strategy. I think that sports will help Tallis stay grounded, make friends, and have fun, but I have to have a flat to call home before I can arrange that for him.

Weyland, at two. He is confused by this move, but thus far is staying true to his nature — bright and sunny and excited. He loves trains and buses and planes and noises. About a month before we moved here he was sleeping on my lap while my mom and I talked with Garrett and Tallis about things they might see and do in London. Weyland woke just after we’d mentioned the Queen. He slid off my lap, stood up, raised his hand and announced “see Queen too!” Ever since he has, multiple times a day and especially if anyone said “England” or “London,” announced with great joy, “ride train see Queen!” We have already taken him on the tube, and he wants more riding the train. We have yet to see the Queen. The many sounds of the city — most especially the church bells — fascinate him, and he is constantly asking what that noise it.

And there is me, Challe, who will be 36 next month. I suppose that it is really my fault we’re here, because I got so involved in researching and recreating the clothing and fashion of women in England during the time Elizabeth of York (Henry VIII’s mother) was on the throne (1486-1503) that I exhausted the resources at the University of North Carolina and Duke University libraries. To make a more comprehensive study, I had to go to England, and so, thanks to a lot of luck and an awesome husband, here we are. I hope that with the children in school I will be able to work on my research. Perhaps I can even amass enough useful information to write a book.