Four Hundred and Thirty Four Square Feet of Love

We are pretty well settled into the temporary apartment now, and have even started to establish a workday routine. We knew when we decided to come here that we would be making do with less space, and this apartment is definitely testing the limits of that theory. It's four hundred and thirty four square feet, and we are attempting to make use of every inch. We actually do feel that were it not for the cats, we could probably be pretty comfortable here. With the cats, however, somebody is always stepping on somebody.

The unit is well laid out for its size. It has a decent-sized bedroom, surprisingly reasonably sized bathroom, and a small kitchen which is open to a small living room.

The bedroom has a double bed, a dresser, and a built-in closet. We have managed to fill every drawer and hanger quite easily. I do feel like it's enough space, though just enough. The bed is technically longer than I am tall, but more often than not I do find my feet hanging off. Such is the life of a tall person. The real challenge comes when both cats decide they want to be on the bed. They tend to prefer Mary's side, and when they are both there it leaves an absurdly small amount of room for her. Eventually they take the hint with all the kicking and make there way elsewhere.

The living room has a small couch, coffee table, and television. The TV has pretty limited choices, which is actually fine. We have been spending our time figuring out the new realities, so we're not wanting for things to do.

The kitchen is smallish, but well laid out and very modern. Using it is like cooking in a spaceship. All of the appliances use icons instead of words. This makes sense in Europe, since many languages need to be supported, but also makes doing anything in the kitchen an adventure. We also have an induction range ("cooker" or "hob" in the local lingo) which can burn stuff in record time. We are gradually getting used to it, and have actually cooked several meals at home since we have been here. We have also successfully run the dishwasher, cooked a frozen pizza in the oven, and mostly successfully ran the washer/dryer combo (we think we may have washed twice, then dried once, but whatever works.)

We are definitely aiming for a bit more space in the longer-term rental, though time will tell how much more we get -- we want a fairly short commute, and budget hangs over all. We are checking out a few more neighborhoods this weekend, and then next week hope to start the hunt in earnest.

The Adventure Begins

We have landed and are mostly settled into the temporary apartment!

The travel day went about as smoothly as can be expected. We were doing cleaning tasks and packing until about ten minutes before the taxi picked us up. I had thought that this might keep us from stressing about the travels, but it did backfire a bit and cause my wife to double stress. Live and learn.

Living Room Chicago

Over the weekend the cats started to notice that something serious was up, and that there may be more to the boxes than just a cat playground. As more and more things got packed up, they became increasingly suspicious. After the movers, things got serious. There is nothing quite as forlorn as an anxious cat sitting by the one thing left in the condo (in this case, a box of garbage bags.)

We arranged for a mini-van to pick us up and bring us to the airport, and even with that we were a bit tightly packed. In retrospect, we really should have pared things down a little more than we did for luggage. We ended up with five checked bags plus the two cats, and while some of what we brought was probably a bit extraneous we did want to make sure that the temp place felt to some extent like home.

The cat check-in process was easy, if lengthy. It took about 30 minutes (the cab meter running the entire time), mostly of waiting for stuff to happen. Because that process had been so ill-documented and our understanding of it had changed so many times, I was worried until the very end of it that they might find something off in the papers and send us packing. Thankfully they did not, and our darlings were off to their own big adventure.

The flight itself was smooth, and largely empty. We took a red-eye flight (the only one that cats are allowed on) so we were able to spread out a bit for napping. We never sleep overly well on planes, but we at least managed a bit of a doze. We also watched Pitch Perfect, the existence of which is a running gag with us for boring reasons. It was surprisingly decent. I have adopted Anna Kendrick, so I was happy it didn't stink.

Living Room London

From Heathrow, we arranged another mini-van to take us and our increasingly absurd-seeming amount of luggage to Animal Reception Centre (the spelling theirs, not mine.) This is where the cats cleared customs, and while still at Heathrow managed to be a fifteen minute ride. Big airport. The lobby at the Reception Centre had a half dozen couches and a few vending machines, which we grew to know quite well. The cats took about four and a half hours to clear, three and a half of which we spent in that room waiting. We struck up a conversation with a man waiting on his dog after a trip to Florida whose anger with American TV we are still joking about.

The cab ride into London was actually a bit sobering. Heathrow is well outside of the city, and on the opposite side from where our apartment is. Additionally there are many fewer highways than in the US, so much of the driving was local. The city isn't exactly on a grid system, so there were two or three dozen turns involved in getting from point A to B. This is actually true of most of the European cities we have come into by cab, but it never fails to terrify me with the prospect that we will eventually need to navigate them on our own. Add to that the fact that this is home for a bit, and I will admit to finally feeling a little bit of "What have we done?"

We arrived at the apartment in mid-afternoon and were met by the agent with keys. This is good, as I realized as we approached that we hadn't specifically arranged anything in advance. The place is a smallish one bedroom, but we have managed to get unpacked into the space. The cats are still a bit unsure of it, but seem to be slowly adjusting. Especially to the bit under the sofa. We've located a nearby grocery and done some dry-run walks to work, and are adjusting fairly well ourselves. We wanted adventure? We got it.

Lassie Goes to the Moon

When we tell people that we are moving to London, one of the first things they ask is, "What are you doing with the cats?" While there was a very brief time when we asked each other this same question, it soon became clear that we would be bringing them along. In part, they are part of our family and part of our life, and in part we wouldn't wish them on others. I am half kidding.

The process of getting them legal to travel is called the Pet Passport program. While it's theoretically less involved than the human process, the need for strict timing on certain things makes it seem more complex. It also seems to be poorly understood, certainly by us. Our understanding of the process has changed four times in the past two days.

The actual process is this:

1. You need to get a ISO compliant microchip implanted in each cat, turning them into unstoppable cyborg killing machines.
2. At least 22 days after the chip is implanted, the cats need to get rabies boosters.
3. No more than 10 days before the date of departure, you need to get normal checkups for each cat.
4. You now need to take the rabies forms, the forms from the checkups, and a special NEW form to the USDA Vet who is open from 8:00 am until 1:00 pm, weekdays only, 30 miles away from home.
5. Pack up the cats, we're moving!

This process in some ways highlights the weird possession/living being dichotomy of pets. There is nothing like having to document the "replacement value" of a loved one to make you feel like you have enslaved a race of (mostly) benevolent furry beings for your own amusement.

There are definitely a few absurdities in which our furry slaves are getting the last laugh. For starters, their plane tickets cost more than ours by a material amount. They are also going to take 3-4 hours to clear customs once we arrive, thus prolonging the process even more. Finally, the airlines have requirements on the style and size of the carrier. Those requirements are absurd. Our carriers are sized for medium-sized dogs and are 28" x 20.5" x 21.5". For reference, that's about 13 times the volume of the larger of the two cats. Prepare the villa indeed.

Math

As I mentioned in a previous post, I have re-discovered the joy of math. I have been using Project Euler to refresh and improve my Perl knowledge to help with my new role at work and have worked my way through a few dozen of the problems. I am not ashamed to admit that I am finding it quite fascinating, and very much enjoying it.

The problems cover a fairly wide range, from some combinatorics issues (counting paths in a grid, finding permutations) to number theory (factorization, many problems related to primes.) Thus far they have been fairly easily defined and haven't required any crazy math (i.e. calculus.) That said, as the problems have gotten more complex I have found myself doing some wikipedia research into the underlying concepts. This is great, since I have been interested in number theory (and numerical analysis) for a while but never actually found a reason to dig into it much. I am a huge nerd. He said in a post on a blog about programming about math.

As I have worked through these, I have definitely gotten better at Perl. I still don't love a lot of the choices they made but at least I am learning how to use the more advanced concepts. I've built complex data structures with references (god forbid a language provide multidimensional arrays without making you go through flaming hoops) and even built my first Perl object, which handles arithmetic on arbitrarily large integers. Perl's objects are weird, and carry through the general frat party abandon of the rest of the language. There are no access levels (private, protected) and a lot of the fundamentals of OO seem to exist purely by convention. It's very odd, and very Perl.

Once you solve a problem, a forum is unlocked in which you can discuss that problem. It's common for folks to post their solutions there, and looking over some of the designs can be very enlightening. For every awful brute force approach or esoteric language I have never hear of, there are some very clever analyses that can really expand your knowledge. It also strikes me how often folks 'cheat' in their implementations. For example, if a problem has you summing one hundred fifty-digit numbers and you use a library function that does it in one line, what's the point? Since I am in this at least in part to dig into the math, it just feels like cheating at solitaire to me. I suppose everyone is in it for something different.

While I may not make it through all 409 (and growing!) problems, I do think I will keep going for a bit. After all, I have to finish my sweet sieve of Eratosthenes that can dynamically grow when larger numbers are requested.

You Can't Take It With You

Time marches on, and we are getting serious about packing. Though we have been in this place for seven years, we traditionally tended to move every few. Because of this, we have packing down to a science. We start a month or so before and pack one box a night of stuff that we don't need at the ready. Books, CDs, DvDs all go first. After that, lessor used barware and kitchen stuff, spare closet bits, and the like go. This time around it's a little different, because we actually have three pools of stuff. What we are packing up now are the items that we want to keep long-term, but don't need with us in the UK. A lot of the same early-packing stuff of tradition fits into this category, and it will go into a storage unit. The second batch is the everyday stuff that we are having shipped. The oddness here is that for insurance purposes we need to let the movers pack that. Weird. Like, super weird. While we are all about having burly men come lift our stuff, having them do the packing is very foreign to us. This also means that we can't really start packing up any of the 'important' stuff until the day of the move. The third batch is what will go into our suitcases. This is mainly clothing and a handful of convenience items. Because our temp housing is fully furnished and comes with dishes, linens, and kitchenwares we don't need to worry about that stuff. We will likely pack some cat stuff, to deal with them on the day of arrival (extra food, disposable litter pan, etc.)

The most entertaining part of the packing -- other than finding all those treasures we've packed away in the backs of closets -- is the rules on what can come into the UK. Most of these fall squarely into "duh" territory: Controlled drugs, firearms, counterfeit currency. Then there are the interesting ones. "Obscene materials" sounds legit (if a bit overly broad) until you find out that it specifically covers Horror Comics. Horror comics? Really? A quick web search shows that this is due to a law enacted in the 50s, then largely ignored. I know that there are plenty of these in the US as well (I think of them as "You can't marry your horse in Texas" laws) but it's always odd to come across them. I have already packed my few graphic novels anyway, so it won't effect me. Also disallowed is pornographic material "that can not be freely purchased in the UK." There is one part of me that wants to ask the internet "What kind of pornography is not available in the UK?", but I realize that that's a rabbit hole I don't want to enter. There are just things you can't unsee. Live animals also can't be shipped, but that's a whole 'nother process (and a whole 'nother post.)

How Did They Move The Satellite So Quickly?

Over this past weekend, we watched Captain America (colon the first avenger.) I like the movie quite a bit but it does have this one, tiny little detail which grates on my nerves every time I watch it. It goes like this: When Captain America first gets his shield the scientist specifically mentions that the reason it's so amazing is that it's made of a material (from a meteorite!) that absorbs all vibrations. Ok, sure, whatever. You need to explain it's awesomeness, I can roll with this. Then, seconds later he deflects a few bullets with it and the shield rings from the vibrations. This, more than any serum-injected supersolders in S&M gear shooting blue laser beams during World War II, is a detail that drives me absolutely bonkers because THAT'S NOT HOW IT WORKS.

Then, over the holiday, we watched The Avengers. While in this one they don't mention the magical vibration absorbing powers of the shield, they do have another scene with it ringing. Since we had seen Captain American (colon the first avenger) so recently, it bothered me again. Like, really bothered me. Like, talk about it on the internet bothered me.

There is actually a phrase for this behavior in the marriage code, and that is "How did they move the satellite so quickly?" This derives from my brother's response when we asked him about one of the more recent bond films (either Goldeneye or Die Another Day.) Despite all of the inherent absurdity of these films (Space lasers! Invisible cars! Tank chases through Moscow!) the speed with which the satellite moved was what he could not get past. We laughed about it at the time, but in his defense, we have both found ourselves falling into similar traps since.

I think that as analytically-inclined people with a basic understanding of science, it bothers us to have folks drop details and then not live by them. The blue lasers those supersolders are shooting? Totally alien technology. Ok! I am fine with that. I don't know about aliens, but I can buy that they shoot blue lasers. Why not? But I do know how sound works. And my brother, apparently, knows how satellites work.

So the next time you get hung up on some silly little detail of a film like this, ask yourself, "How did they move the satellite so quickly?" You know Mary and I will be.