Greg Wesson's Esoteric Globe

"Only a few weeks until you move to London. Are you getting excited yet?" a friend asked me a few days ago.

"In all honesty, I don't even really think that it's hit me yet. I know that I am moving, but my emotions haven't had time to catch up. I have way too much stuff left to do," I replied. When I took off the month of May to prep for my move to the UK, I was expecting a little more leisure and a little less of what I have been faced with, which is a lot like work without the paycheque.

I look around my apartment that is filled with 10 years accumulation of stuff. Last week I took 5 bags worth of clothes and shoes and 3 huge boxes of books to the Goodwill to donate, but I still have a tonne of stuff left in the apartment. I was going to try and sell it on Craigslist, but I soon discovered that 10 year old Ikea furniture is of little to no value, and the best you can hope for is that someone will cart it away from your place for free.

This week I have to start packing up the stuff that I am not taking to London (at least not right away). A subset of my remaining clothes, my CDs, some favourite books, a collection of photo albums and other odds and ends will all need to be boxed up and somehow delivered to a storage unit.

Whatever furniture I can't give away for free in the next few weeks will need to go to either one of two places. The first is a charity, which charges $250 to pick up the furniture (it's a donation to cover the expensive of the guys and the truck). Many people (myself among them) were surprised to learn that you can't donate stuff for free, at least not if you want them to come and get it from you. Any furniture that the donation folks won't take (which I assume will be my one crappy couch and my sagging bed) I will need to pay someone a further couple hundred to come and cart away to be recycled or trashed. I knew that collecting all this stuff was pricey, but who knew that getting RID of stuff would be so expensive!

I've also tried to get my future life in order. Now that I have my visa, I have been applying for positions. There are a few nibbles so far, but nothing concrete yet. I was hoping to have this all squared away prior to my getting to the United Kingdom, but always, I have underestimated the amount of time it takes to do interviews and get a job. *sigh* Well, at least I'll probably have some time to explore London in a little more detail when I first get there, as I won't have a job to go to during the days.

The other thing I wanted to do was get myself set up for banking in the UK. Strangely, it is proving harder to get a bank account open in the United Kingdom than it was to get permission to work there. Her Majesty the Queen and her government decided within 3 days of receiving my application that yes, I would be a welcome addition to the workforce. Banks, on the other hand, seem very suspicious of whole concept of someone coming into the country. Luckily I have a relationship here in Canada with HSBC, but trying to get an account open over in the United Kingdom still required me to fill out 6 pages of application forms that I had to sign in 5 different places. $200 and 2 weeks later, I will find out if they have accepted me into their "club" of customers. Keep your fingers crossed for me! I'd hate to be over in the UK will the ability to receive a paycheque but no way to cash it.

HSBC ad from my last trip to London. Who knew it would be so prophetic. Romance and Madness - it's the only explanation!

Not all is gloomy, though. A plan is starting to come together, though. Thanks to the internet, I have both transportation over to London and a place to stay when I get there.

I have booked a flight to London, leaving Toronto on June 3rd and arrive in London the next morning. I will collect my bags and take the Heathrow Express to Paddington Station. I wonder if I will run into the eponymous bear there? I will then wander over to the Paddington tube stop, and hope on the Bakerloo line to the Elephant and Castle Station, where I will change for the Jubilee line. I will take the Jubilee line to Willesden Green station, place a call to my new (temporary) landlord, who will take me to my studio apartment, which I have rented for a month until I can find a more permanent place to live.

Once I am in that studio apartment, though, I am not sure what happens next. I have stuff I need to do - find a job, find a place to live, get a national insurance number, find a doctor and find the nearest HSBC branch.

That first day though, I'm going to take it easy. All I'm planning on doing my first day in town is to find the nearest pub, have a small meal and a beer and let it sink in. On June 4th, 2008, I will be a Londoner.

So you've read my last entry and a natural question pops into your head, "why are you moving to the United Kingdom, Greg?"

The quick answer is that the timing was right. I'd been thinking about living abroad since I started travelling for work back in 1997. In fact, I almost moved from Toronto to Denver back in 2001, a move that was thwarted at the last minute by the "tech bubble crash" and a subsequent drying up up the telecommunications market in the USA, which was a major industry in Denver at the time.

The dream became a lot more concrete back in 2005, when I ran into a woman on the train from Beijing to Hong Kong who was originally from Canada but had moved to the UK. She was travelling with a UK passport, which I found intriguing. That's when I learned about the UK Ancestry Visa, which allows those who had a grandparent born in the UK to return and work there. After a 5 year stint of working the UK, you can then apply for indefinite leave to remain, and finally citizenship.

As my grandparents were originally from the UK, this seemed like a good idea to me. The UK speaks English, which is good because the state of my French or Spanish would preclude me from working in Paris or Barcelona, save perhaps in the sex industry, but then I'd be thwarted by my looks. The UK is a stable economy, and with my background in consulting and IT, it should be easy to find a job.

The idea of moving floated around in my head for a few years, and then through a stroke of timing, everything kind of came together.

First, I got my hands on all the needed paperwork (which was basically a set of birth certificates so I could trace my lineage back to the UK). Secondly, I had a slow period at work, along with the downturn in the US economy and a few resignations of key people who I had worked for in the past made me think that perhaps looking for another job might not be a bad idea. Third came the news that the UK is considering scrapping the Ancestry Visa. Now, I could apply to be a skilled worker and probably get into the UK, but the Ancestry Visa is much less restrictive in the type of work I am allowed to undertake and it is a good path to citizenship, so I preferred to get in using that Visa.

Then the really kicker came. I came home one day to find my roommate and his girlfriend sitting on the couch with big, giddy smiles on their faces. "We just put an offer in on a house," they said. 24 hours later, with the offer accepted, I was left with a decision about what I now needed to do about a place to live. I could continue to live in the apartment and find a new roommate, or I could give up the place and find a new place to live.

I thought, "well, if I am going to be looking for a place to live, I might as well look for a place to live in London."

And so that's the answer.

Now, you'll be sitting there and saying, "That's a fine answer for the question if you put the emphasis on why you are moving to the United Kingdom, but what I was really asking is why are you moving AT ALL?"

I am moving because it I feel it is something important.

Back in the early years of this decade, I got myself entangled in a relationship that didn't go well. It ended poorly, and I noticed that I had a history of poor relationships with women. "I need help to sort this out," I thought to myself. "What am I doing wrong that I always seem to end up bruised and battered emotionally at the end of every relationship I have with the opposite sex?"

So I did what any reasonable person would do. I consulted the experts – daytime talk show hosts. Those who want emotional reassurance and comfort turn to Oprah. Those who want psychic help from a chain-smoking blond turn to Montell. Those who want to feel better about themselves by comparing themselves to trailer trash turn to Jerry Springer. Those who want to distract themselves by spending time guessing "which of the girls on stage is really a man?" turn to Maury.

But those, like me, who want some kick you in the pants and pull no punches advice turn to Dr. Phil. Whether or not Dr. Phil's brand of down home brutality peppered with southern sayings actual helped me is debatable (as I haven't had any better luck with women since undertaking my "quest" to figure out what I kept doing wrong in relationships), but one show, completely unrelated to my poor relationship skills has stuck with me.

In that show, a woman who lived in the mid-west of the USA, very far from any ocean, was on asking Dr. Phil advice's on if she should move to California. She was divorced with a child. She wanted to move, and her child was excited about the possibility of the move as well (probably imagining skipping school to go surfing with beautiful people). Her family and her ex-husband didn't want her to move, though, because they didn't want to be so far from the kid.

"Why do you want to move to the west coast?" asked Dr. Phil.

"I've always wanted to live in California by the ocean. I like the climate, I like the lifestyle and I think it would make me happy," responded the woman.

"Do you believe geography can play a part in how happy you are?" Dr. Phil asked.

"Yes," she replied.

"So you truly believe that you'd be happier if you moved?"

The guest nodded her head and said, "Yes."

At this point I expected Dr. Phil to come down on her. Tell her how place isn't important, that happiness comes from the inside and that if she wasn't happy in the Mid-west, moving to California was certainly not going to make her happy.

I think the guest expected the same response from Dr. Phil, because she had a sheepish look on her face, like she was ashamed to say something as trivial or banal as I'd be happier living in California.

He didn't tell her she was wrong, though. Instead he agreed with her. He said that place and geography could be an important part of happiness, and that if this woman felt that she and her child would have a happier, fuller, better life in California, than she shouldn't let the opinions of her ex-husband or family sway her.

Ultimately, Dr. Phil said, she was responsible for her and her child, and if she felt that the move was best, she should do it. In fact, to kowtow to the demands of her family would be doing both her and her child a disservice, as she would be sacrificing improvements in their lives for the demands of other people.

That really struck me.

Now, to be clear, I don't know if moving to London will make me happy. In fact, I'm not even going to London to be any happier than I already am (because I am already a smiling, goofy nut). Rather, I am going because I feel it is an important thing to do. I admire those that have pulled up stakes and headed to a new country. It seems brave to me to leave behind what you know for the chance to experience something new. As well, those who have moved elsewhere seem to me to have a deeper chest of experience to draw upon. They've operated in different arenas, and I think it gives them a flexibility to deal with the unfamiliar.

I feel like that I need to try to do that, to leave behind what I know and gain the experience of learning about a new culture by immersing myself in it.

I've partially had that with my work as a consulting, spending anywhere from 3 to 14 months in various cities in North America (and one lucky time in Paris), but it was always a bit of a sham, really, because I never really moved to those places. I always had an apartment back in Toronto and the option to return home at any time. There was always that safety net. Emigrating to the United Kingdom and giving up my life in Toronto takes that safety net away.

So that's really the answer. It's something I feel I need to do. I feel like I need to try it, or else I'll always wonder if I could have done it, and what amazing experiences and lessons that I have given up.

I am moving to London because it's important to try being someplace else. I don't know what emotions I'll be subjected to by emigrating. Maybe I won't end up being happier or more patient or more flexible, but the alternative is not to do it and I do know that would leave me with an emotion I don't want.

Regret.

Those of us who travel a significant amount for business often call ourselves "road warriors." We tend to be very efficient at travel, and I would for the most part agree with this Inc. article's assessments of the skills needed to be a road warrior:

• Tidy
  
• Thifty
  
• Flexible
  
• Adaptable
  
• Agile
  
• Patient
  

Despite our self-profressed patience, though, we Road Warriors can also be a bit of an insular and surly lot, especially when confronted with "leisure" travellers who have packed liquids or can't manage to take off their shoes and belts before arriving at the x-ray machine.

Anyway, all that's behind me now, I think. After 10 years and 10 months in consulting and almost 8 years at my present company, I resigned my position today. It has been a spectatular time, and has allowed me to see many places all over the world, either because of work trips, or the result of tons of air miles and hotel points earned on the road. So cheers to the road warrior lifestyle for that.

But lately I have been thinking about something different, something new. Much like I always seem to get itchy feet for new places, I have gotten the itchy feet for a new work and living experience.

So, somewhat fittingly, my last day is Earth Day. One less road warrior on the road, and 30 tonnes of carbon kept out of the atmosphere from my flying.

This also means an end to the business travel part of the blog. My next move will probably see me keeping a lot more grounded when it comes to work.

This doesn't mean that there is an end to this blog though. I am currently in the process of looking for work in London, England, and am expecting to move there sometime in the summer. (An aside, hello to any potential employers that have found my blog. I promise I won't write about you in here!) I am looking for a job that is in "industry," which is consulting speak for non-consulting. If anybody has any suggestions or contacts in London, feel free to drop me a line.

I'll write a little more on my decision to move abroad in a future entry, but living abroad will obviously offer me the opportunity to experience a foreign culture in a new way - by totally immersing myself in it. Even though Canada and the UK aren't so different, I'm sure I'll still have enough misunderstandings and culture fumblings to provide a few funny moments in the blog.

In addition, the proximity of the UK to continental Europe will still provide me the opportunity to travel, this time it'll be around Europe instead of jetting around North America.

So say goodbye to the road warrior, for he is no more, and say hello to the future immigrant, for he is about to be.

Cheers,
Greg

There was a song released by song in 1992 called "Bad Day for Trains" by Patricia Conroy. She's a Canadian, so maybe you never heard the song.

This past few weeks, though, have been bad days for planes.

It started in London Heathrow. The shiny new Terminal 5 at Heathrow Airport in London has turned from a story of the opening of a state of the art terminal to finally make LHR a nice airport into a public-relations disaster, with British Airways rethinking their move in schedule to the new terminal, and the executives at the airport getting called before a special session of the House of Commons transport committee.

The whole thing brings to mind the song "I'm So Worried" by the boys at Monty Python. Despite being written in 1980, seems very timely with the verse:

I'm so worried about what's hapenin' today, in the middle east, you know
And I'm worried about the baggage retrieval system they've got at Heathrow
I'm so worried about the fashions today, I don't think they're good for your feet
And I'm so worried about the shows on TV that sometimes they want to repeat

The Heathrow baggage mess has even spawned a video game, where you play British Airways CEO Willie Walsh in a game called Terminal Panic. You try and move the luggage from the pile on the floor to the luggage belts.

Then, to add to the mess, in the past few weeks 4 budget airlines have gone backrupt. Aloha Airgroup, ATA Airlines and Skybus Airlines in the USA and Oasis Airlines in Hong Kong have all stopped operating, cancelling all flights, leaving passengers stranded and potentially out of the cost of a flight.

Finally, in the past few days, American Airlines has cancelled 1000s of flights due to wiring problems in the MD80s, one of their most popular planes. This is all coming on the heels of the revelation that the FAA, the governing body of airline travel in the USA was allowing Southwest Airlines to fly planes that had missed important inspection dates.

Luckily for me, I haven't been travelling much in the past few months. I have been working in Toronto, which has gone from being snow-covered and cold to sunny and warm in just a few weeks. In fact, I have enjoyed more than a few casual beers on the open patios this past weekend.

It may be bad days for planes, and by extension business travellers, but luckily for me my business travel is way down and it's been a good few days for patio weather.

P.S. I know there isn't much point in this entry except that I felt a little bit like gloating over the fact that I have enjoyed sleeping in my own bed for much of the past two months, and to share the funny Terminal Panic game. Enjoy.

P.P.S My Dad is over in the UK right now, and hopefully won't get tied up by the mess at Heathrow. If he does, then I'll feel bad about my gloating, and will have to post an apology.

A few weeks ago Toronto was getting another blanketing of snow. I was standing in the vestibule of my apartment building doing up my jacket’s zipper and securing my hat and gloves. A man walked into the vestibule also readying himself to head out into the falling snow.

“Bad winter, eh?” I said

He shrugged his shoulders and said, “it’s Canada.” Then he turned and walked outside, letting twister of blowing snow into the vestibule and causing a chill to creep up my spine.

“I don’t know, seems bad to me,” I said to no one, before hunkering down my shoulders and heading out into the snow.

That encounter got me thinking, though, whether or not I’d become some sort of softy when it comes to the snow. After all, my usually constant business travel usually keeps me on the road during winter in places that are warmer and less snowy than Canada. This winter, though, I’ve mostly been here in Canada. Perhaps all my travel has zapped me of the usual Canadian stiff upper lip when it comes to the winter weather.

Turns out, though, that isn’t the case. It is a bad winter here in Toronto. Last Saturday Toronto was in the middle of a blizzard delivering another 30 cm – 40 cm of snow, and we’d already had 20 cm earlier in the week. A front page story on the Toronto Star laid out the truth. We were very close to being the worst winter every in Toronto.

After the 40 or so centimeters that fell on Friday and Saturday, so far this winter season Toronto has gotten 189.6 cm of snow (almost two metres!), and is only 17.8 cm away from the all time Toronto record of 207.4 cm set in 1938-1939. With still half of March and the very real possibility of some snow in early April, Toronto could break the record yet.

This is further contrasted by the fact that last year Toronto only got 60 cm of snow all winter, the second lowest total on record. So it’s not just my imagination, it is a bad winter!

Sunday was a beautiful sunny day, so I went out to capture some of the aftermath of Toronto’s latest snow storm.

Snow banks above car roofs. Cool!

The rest of Canada probably won’t think this all that impressive, of course. Ottawa, just a 5 hour drive away, has had 411 cm of snow so far this year, and Montreal has gotten 348 cm of the white stuff. In fact, Toronto is just 79th on the list of snowy cities, and our all time high of 207 cm is just above the AVERAGE snowfall across Canada of 200 cm a year.

Just another reason why the rest of Canada can continue to hate Toronto.