The thing about being a transplant is, the most mundane, trivial things can add up to make life feel totally surreal (and I won't even get into the language barrier—oh yes there is one). Today I'm going to Barclays bank to apply for a high-interest credit card, for without one, I cannot get a mortgage. Isn't that a kick in the head? I worked and scrambled and paid my rent for 20 years in Manhattan, but now that I'm in the U.K., I have no credit history here and must build one from scratch. So the advice is, get one of those terrible 34.9 percent interest cards (the "normal" ones with low rates reject me because I haven't lived here long enough), charge the groceries once a month, and voilà, a credit history.
It works the same for immigrants in the U.S., so I'm not complaining, it's just a little humbling. It sort of makes you feel like a nothing—which is ridiculous. One isn't one's bank account. Or lack thereof (you can apply only for the most basic student-type savings account here too). If only I still had my 18-year-old figure to go with my slimline accounts.
In other news...I have a lot of news. Various updates, stories, and new links coming shortly as I am determined to get this blog thing off the ground this year. Trouble is I kind of hate blogs; I was envisioning more of a website full of resources, but the longest journey starts with a blog.