Posted on

Mind the Gap

 

On the morning of my first day at work here, I stepped out of our temporary apartment into the February cold and tried to keep my mind focused on the immediate task: just getting there. Walking through the station parking lot, I fingered the new Oyster card in my pocket. How hard can this be? I thought. It’s one train. It’s a few minutes on one train.

We’d made a trip the day before to go shopping in Watford, just up the line from Northwood, so I (sort of) knew the stops along the way: North Harrow. Pinner. Northwood Hills. Northwood.

After swiping my Oyster card to get through the turnstiles, I stopped. Which platform? Northbound or southbound? And what’s this National Rail Services? Impatient people mostly avoided running into me while I puzzled. How hard can this be, indeed. Northbound. I need northbound.

I took the stairs down to the northbound platforms. Yes, there were two. A train rolled up. I looked at its destination board: Metropolitan Line. All Stations. Uxbridge.

I dove on, found a seat, and relaxed. There. That’s taken care of.

“This is a—Metropolitan Line Train to—Uxbridge” said the automated announcer in her pleasing, presumably neutral accent with odd, fill-in-the-blank gaps.

The doors beeped a warning, then closed and we got rolling. “The next station is—West Harrow.”

I’m sorry, what? I looked up in alarm. Did I get on the wrong train? I GOT ON THE WRONG TRAIN!

At the time, I was mortified. When I got off the train at West Harrow, I was sure everyone knew what I’d done. I trudged over to the other platform, burning with shame.

Now, of course, I know that everyone gets on the wrong train sometimes. It happens. I also know how to navigate Transport for London’s magnificent transit system a bit better than I did, so getting around town isn’t such a daunting prospect any more.

Whether you’re here for a visit or moving here, your first step on arrival should be to buy an Oyster Card. This is a pre-paid travel card that costs £5 initially, plus whatever advance fare you put on the card. You can probably get away with £20 initially, bringing the total outlay to £25. You’ll find ticket booths at the airports and rail stations, or you can purchase from an automated kiosk. Our advice: choose pay-as-you-go as it’s cheaper than the “Day Travelcard” option. One card per person!

You can use those same kiosks to “top up” or add more credit to your Oyster Card. We had no trouble using our US debit cards in the kiosks. If you’re staying, once you have a UK debit card, you can register your Oyster Card to top up automatically so pay-as-you-go travel will be fairly hassle-free.

Your Oyster Card will get you on any London City bus (the modern red ones), Underground and Overground rail, RiverBus, some National Rail Services trains within Greater London, and the Emirates Air Line aerial tramway.

By now, you’re probably wondering how the Oyster Card got its name. Three reasons: the card is essentially a protective shell around a traveler’s cash the way an actual oyster is a hard shell containing a pearl, the association between London and oysters in the River Thames, and the idea that with the freedom to travel, “the world is your oyster.” (The more you know.)

As I discovered on my first morning commute, it helps to have the proper tools to navigate the TfL system. If you have a smart phone, download the Tube Map and Bus London apps. These make it possible to plan a trip without having to stand in front of the map at a bus or Tube stop while you puzzle out the connections between where you are and where you want to go. They’ll also tell you how long you’ll have to wait for your bus or train and warn you if there are any delays expected.

A word of caution about those apps: Don’t use the travel times they give you as gospel. That 42-minute travel time from Eastcote to Liverpool Street on the Metropolitan Line begins when you actually board a train, so factor in the time you’ll be waiting for a train’s arrival. Usually, that’s not a big deal; I’ve rarely had to wait more than eight or nine minutes for the next train, and it’s usually less than five minutes. Even so, if you’re planning to catch a train out of town, that short wait for the Tube at the beginning could make you miss your departure.

We quickly came to love the Tube. It’s so well laid out that it doesn’t take many trips to understand where the connections are located on your local line. If you’re like us, that’ll give you a sense of connection with this wonderful city and make you feel a little like a native.

Plus, there’s something primal about climbing up to the street from below ground, like a metaphorical rebirth. Not all Tube lines are completely underground; once you’re out of central London, they tend to run above ground. But the famous places you’ve dreamed about—Covent Gardens, Leicester Square, Piccadilly Circus—you get to by being underground.

My first look at Piccadilly Circus, and you guessed it, I’d just come up out of the Tube station.
Historic buses have made way for more modern double-deckers with hybrid engines. They’re cool, but not THIS cool.

Except for those romantic double-decker buses, London’s bus system is undoubtedly similar to any you’re familiar with. There is one key difference: They don’t take cash. Here, your Oyster Card is essential, unless you have a UK contactless debit card.

 

Once you’re on the bus, though, go ahead and climb up to the upper level, take a seat, and enjoy the view. Please be careful coming back down. The stairs are steep and it’s easy to take a tumble, especially if the bus is moving.

While we’re on the subject of safety: They’re not kidding when they say, “Mind the gap between the train and the platform.” There may be a height difference between the floor of the train and the platform, particularly for the older trains, many of which date back to the 1970s when there was less concern for passengers with mobility challenges. Another hazard to look out for is that some platforms are curved, and while trains bend, the individual carriages don’t. That can leave a surprisingly large gap between the floor of the carriage and the platform, big enough to step into. Really, please do mind the gap.

When you get here, don’t let the bowl of spaghetti that is the London Tube map intimidate you. Take a few minutes to plan your trip before you go somewhere new, and before long, there’ll be a moment when you realize you understand how the brilliantly laid out system works. It’ll probably happen on a train.

Posted on

House Hunting

Our house hunting “process” began about the time of my first job interview, six months before our move. Initially, it consisted of looking at real estate websites (we preferred www.rightmove.co.uk) and dreaming of the possibilities. We both kept running lists of favorites, hoping that the Real Estate Gods might favor us with one of them.

That didn’t happen.

The housing market in the UK is incredibly active, and according to our agent (a lovely woman named Manjit), most houses spend less than three weeks on the rental market before being spoken for. That seems about right. We sent her a list of the houses we wanted to view on February 21st, and by the time we ventured out to look at properties on the 28th, none of the houses on our list were available.

The plus side of all that surfing and hoping was that we arrived in England with a clear idea of our requirements: Three to four bedrooms, en suite master bathroom, a room that could be used as a dedicated writing space, and since we knew that we’d be going without a car for a while, a location within easy walking distance of the Tube. We also wanted a place that looked English, rather than cookie-cutter modern.

In the States, I never went through a real estate agent to find a rental property. I looked online or in the paper, and once or twice, I just called a number on a sign outside a place that seemed like a nice place to live and spoke to the landlord or the manager directly.

That’s not how it works in the UK. Over here, the process is more like buying a house: You hire an agent, tell them what you need, they consult the listings for potential matches, line up appointments, and then go with you to see each place, where you’ll be greeted by the landlord’s agent.

We looked at several houses in two days of searching. As you’d expect, most were minimally maintained. The back fence at one place was partially collapsed. Two smelled heavily of mold. One smelled like urine. These were not inexpensive properties we were looking at either.

One was almost perfect—a Tudor-style four-bedroom cottage with a distinctive blue front door and a name. I’ve always wanted to live in a house with a name. After all, Lizzie Bennet had Longbourne and then Pemberly, Ross Poldark has Nampara, and Jane Eyre has Thornfield Hall.

Judging by the color of the interior walls, however, the owner of that lovely named cottage with the blue door was clearly fond of lilac and purple. These are fine colors, and I have nothing against them, but not every day. Not to wake up to. What decorating compromises would we have to make? Lavender upholstery, no doubt.

Moving on.

Another surprising thing about viewing houses for rent is that the current tenants don’t seem to make any effort to be out of the house when you arrive. When we reached the house we eventually settled on, that was the case. When we walked in, it felt as though the occupant was judging us, or at least me. When we learned later that he’s a dentist, I thought, “Well, that makes sense, then.”

After you’ve selected a home, things get more complicated. Quoted rent prices aren’t the flat price they are in the States. Here, you make an offer through your agent and wait for it to be accepted. After the landlord takes your offer, you pay a deposit of one to two weeks’ rent to guarantee that you’ll follow through. If you withdraw or fail the credit check, the landlord keeps your deposit.

While you’re waiting for the credit check to clear, your agent reviews the rental agreement, and like buying a house in the US, landlord and tenant (and their agents) negotiate rental terms. Pay attention: there will be small, almost non-sensical clauses in the rental agreement like, “Tenant agrees to keep the existing landline phone number.”

On signing day, you’ll have to have your first month’s rent plus a deposit of at least six weeks’ rent. If you have pets, the deposit will typically be two full months’ rent. The deposit goes into a holding account that the landlord will only get access to after you move out, so there’s little danger of them absconding with your deposit.

Move in day is a much more complicated process than we Americans are accustomed to. Both landlord and tenant hire inventory agents whose job it is to inspect the property and note any issues. They work separately but simultaneously, comparing lists at the end. In our case, there were a few items that needed to be taken care of by the landlord: some of the lighting wasn’t working and the lawn needed to be mowed. Mostly though, the validated list just documents the state of the place when you move in and serves as a point of comparison for the end of your tenancy. They don’t make allowances for “normal wear and tear.” If something breaks, you either get it repaired or the landlord pays for the repair out of your deposit after you move out.

Unless your moving expenses are covered by your employer, you can expect to pay between 300-500 quid for all these agents and services. This ain’t a cheap place to live.

Even with all the hassle and expense, it’s completely worth it. Yesterday afternoon, after our trip to Windsor, I stood by the back window watching the rain, and I was struck by how beautiful it all is. “We live here,” I thought. “We live here.”