In Tokyo: "You are not doing well", dame, and being insulted

Before arriving in Tokyo, our firm gave us a handbook called the "Tokyo Inbound Starter Pack: Essential Information". It set out some helpful tips like:

• "Do not be afraid of long pauses in conversation. If you are doing most of the talking, you are not doing well".
• "Seminars are formal events. Jokes are not well received".
• "Avoid conversations with your colleagues. If you are not talking to the client you are not doing well".

As you can tell, Japan has a very formal culture with many unwritten rules. Luckily, Westerners are exempt from a lot of these rules. As my handbook says "Japanese people do not expect others to understand their etiquette and are very forgiving". That said, I felt prepared for the high chance that I would offend someone and that even after a few months of living here, I would probably be "not doing well". 

Now that I'm two thirds of the way through, I can safely say that I was right - I would offend poor polite Japanese people. But what I didn't expect is that sometimes I would get offended too!! There are some things that do not transcend culture.

1. Dame

Ok so one of the most important things I've learned since being here is the Japanese word dame which means "Don't do that / No good" (pronounced "dum-ay"). I was blissfully unaware of dame until my friend pointed it out to me. From that day on, I've noticed that I get dame'd all the freaking time!

Ten minutes after my friend first described this to me, we were trying to cross the road while the red signal was on, and the traffic guard dame'd us. 

For Aussies, it's like the "No deal" sign on Deal or No Deal...

...except there is no smiling and the man yells at you saying "DAME DAME DAME DAME" i.e. "NO NO NO STOP THAT" then probably mutters to himself "stupid gaijin".

2. Dame at the gym

I seem to get dame'd the most at the gym. First time I went, I walked straight in and headed to the treadmills. This poor Japanese gym attendant just looked at me with wide eyes, almost fearful.

I didn't know why he looked so uncomfortable, so I just kept walking in the direction of the treadmill. He then beckoned to me, trying to get me to walk in the other direction and I said something along the lines of "No, no, I know the treadmill is that way, thanks anyway". He just looked at me even more awkwardly, and tried to usher me in the other direction. I finally agreed to follow him, and he took me to reception where the lady told me I needed to hand in my card before I could access the gym. Oops! I probably ruined that poor guy's day.

Another time, I went into the ladies changing room and walked straight in with my shoes on. A female attendant came out of nowhere and apologetically and nervously pointed to my shoes and gave me a mini dame. I went back to the door, took off my shoes, and then walked back in. She CAME UP TO ME AGAIN. She pointed at my bare feet and motioned back to the door. I was like:

What am I supposed to do here? Just stand by the door?? Turns out there were special slippers that we were supposed to wear in the change rooms. Sigh. Sorry lady, my bad.

3. NOT COOL Japan!

So there have also been a couple of times where a Japanese person has offended me because of something that didn't quite translate. 

"Only small and medium! Only small and medium!"

I went to a shopping centre with my friend the other weekend, and we were in Zara. The fashion here is for very loose and baggy clothing, which doesn't always suit non-Japanese women. My friend bought a lovely lace dress that was a little boxy, so she got it in a small size to fit more tightly. It looked fantastic on her. At the counter, the shop assistant said to my friend: "This is a small". My friend said "Yes I know" and the shop assistant replied "Are you sure? It's a SMALL"

We were like:

Then we headed to another store, and started looking at the pretty dainty clothing there. I was starting to take a jacket off its hanger when a shop assistant lady came running up to me and gave me a little dame. I thought to myself "oh great, what have I done this time?" And the woman, while waving her hands at me, said in broken English "No no, only small and medium. Only small and medium!"

It suddenly hit me. 

She was saying that literally nothing in this store would fit me and that I should leave. I just looked at her like:

Ok I get it. Japanese women are tiny. You could have broken it to me a little gentler though.

"Small face"

I was having my Japanese class a couple of weeks ago and we were learning adjectives. I had to go down the list of adjectives and use them in different ways (e.g. positive and negative, present and past tense). We got to the adjective "small". I didn't really have the vocabulary for this kind of exercise, so we puzzled over an easy noun that I could remember which could be described as small. 

I stepped out of the room for a moment, and when I came back in, my Japanese teacher was looking really pleased. She said excitedly "I know a good word for "small" that you can use!" My first thought was "she's going to say mouse", but I humoured her and said "Oh yeh, what's that?" 

She said:

"YOUR FACE"

...........

Um?

I'm pretty sure that's an insult. An insult to my face. Kind of like:

Why would my sweet, kind, Japanese teacher say that?

I tried to control my emotions, and said to her "Well I guess I kind of see that, I do have a small head, I mean buying hats has always been kind of difficult for me..." 

She looked a bit confused, and said to me "No, no, in Japan small face is a very big compliment! Everybody want a small face. Actresses, models, they all have small face. Japanese women even have surgery to have small face. It's very good".

Ok.

So in Japan, having a small face is a compliment. I guess I must be "doing well".

I appreciated the thought, but honestly, I can't help but think of this:

Some things will just not transcend culture. But me and my small face can live with that :)

In Tokyo: Three unexpected things about working in Japan

Hi everyone!

I am over one-third of the way through my time in Japan, and the time has absolutely flown. I've well and truly settled into a routine now, though until I learn more of the language I couldn't say I'm at home! One place that does feel familiar is The Office, because I work in an English-speaking environment filled with mostly British and Australian lawyers and bilingual Japanese support staff. That said, there have been a few surprises about working in Japan which I'm going to share with you now.

1. Business cards

The one piece of information I knew about Japanese business culture was "something something business cards". Before I left to come here, multiple people gave me their two cents on business card practice and then this was reconfirmed at our "etiquette training" as soon as I arrived.  Hold your business card ("meishi") in two hands with the Japanese language side facing up and pointed towards the other person. Swap business cards. Study the contents of the business card with an "interested look on your face" and make small talk about the contents if possible. Easy huh?

I was lucky enough to go to a preliminary meeting at the arbitrator's offices for one of our matters. I made sure I wore a suit, was ready to keep my mouth shut, brought lots of writing material, FORGOT TO BRING ANY BUSINESS CARDS. 

Sigh, I try SO hard .....

When we first entered the room, only the opposition and his lawyer were present and I had to stand awkwardly to the side while everyone else slowly exchanged business cards one by one. I explained honestly that I didn't bring any. The arbitrator and his secretary then arrived, we had the meeting, and at the end I had to stand to the side yet again while everyone exchanged business cards with them.  

Mr Darcy gets it:

I then lied and said that I'd run out. It didn't help - you're supposed to carry 100 business cards with you wherever you go. 

I went to a networking event soon afterwards, and two Japanese women kindly explained the business card rules. Apparently, you should try and serve your business card underneath the other person's card, because that means you are being humble and polite. The other person will also try to swap their card underneath yours, so eventually it becomes a bit like:

2. "Lift Commander"

There is an interesting phenomenon that happens in the lifts at work, particularly for the "express lift" that goes directly up without stopping. 

We all shuffle into the lift and then one person will always (I mean always) take up the position right next to the panel of buttons. I call this person the "Lift Commander".

The Lift Commander is in charge of pressing the "closing door" button as soon as the last person has entered the lift. We then stand silently, facing the direction of the door. The doors open and we shuffle out again. The Lift Commander honourably stays until last, holding the "door open" button until everyone has left. Only then will the Lift Commander leave.

I keep forgetting this unspoken rule: I'm very trigger happy when it comes to closing the doors...

...but then I'll also walk out of the lift first...

Lately I've been remembering though, and when I take on the role of Lift Commander, the Japanese people in the lift are noticably surprised and grateful. Sometimes I'll get a soft "arigato gozimasu" (thank you) or a teensy little bow as they leave.  Just goes to show that they don't expect much from foreigners, but if you manage to do something right, Japanese people will be grateful!

3. "Career women" and power dressing

One thing I did know about Japanese business culture before coming over was the "salaryman". According to Wikipedia (I went there), salaryman "refers to a man whose income is salary based, particularly those working for corporations. It has gradually become accepted in Anglophone countries as a noun for a Japanese white-collar worker or businessman. The term salaryman refers exclusively to men".

This was the kind of image I had in mind:

The pleasant surprise for me was that there are quite a few business women around as well. From what I've heard, it is difficult being a woman in business in Japan and I wasn't sure what to expect. As Wikipedia continues, "The term salaryman refers exclusively to men; for women the term [is] career woman or, for lower prestige jobs office lady is used". I can tell the career women because they will be wearing a type of uniform of a black skirt suit and white shirt, with the collars opened up wide above the blazer collar.  Apparently dressing formally in a suit signals to the world that she is a "career woman" and is to be taken seriously. Power dressing. 

Whenever I see these women around work, I just want to go:

In Tokyo: I Have No Idea What I'm Eating

While I spend most of my working week in an English-speaking bubble known as The Office, as soon as I step out of that bubble I am repeatedly reminded that I do not speak the language of this country. Every Japanese person I have met has been so patient and kind, but there have inevitably been some very awkward moments which, of course, I will entertain you with throughout my trip. We begin with food....

1. Grocery shopping

Supermarkets are ranked #1 on the list of Places You Will Most Likely Confuse Others. You could be forgiven for thinking that I could just enter the store, pick up a few items, hand them to the shop assistant along with my credit card in total silence and be able exit with my dignity intact. What you don't realise is that I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT I AM BUYING. I can't read any of the labels...

... and a lot of things I should have recognised come in very different shapes...

An incredible variety of mushrooms...if I don't know what the thing I'm eating is, it has usually turned out to be a type of mushroom or a type of seaweed

My last resort has been to type into my Google Translate app and show it to a shop assistant, who will take me to what I need. Sometimes they will type something back to me - as a system it works ok.

Once I was hoping to cook dinner at home (mistake) and I had no idea which of the sauces I was supposed to use. A very kind shop assistant led me over to the sauces. I showed her my translation for "I am allergic to onion and garlic", which she understood. She then said in broken English "what...cook?" and I showed her my shopping basket, which included tofu. She got excited by the tofu and pulled a few sauces off the shelf for me, which I then bought. I still have no idea what the sauce is, but it is delicious with tofu. 

Last week was embarrassing. As usual, I was trying my now standard Just Smile and Hand Over Your Credit Card routine. As I was paying, the shop assistant started putting my items in a bag, and she said "Something something something receipt something something?" Thinking that she said "Do you want a receipt?", I said "Iie" (which means no). She then froze, her hand poised above the bag....she stared at me confused....then with a raised eyebrow she slowly started pulling things out of the bag and putting them back on the counter. I quickly said "Hai uh I mean iie I mean hai bag yes bag yes" and she smiled confused and put the items back in the bag. She must have been like:

2. Dining Out

Dining Out is #1 on the list of Places Where You Will Most Likely Be Confused Yourself. On our first night in Tokyo, we had dinner at a delicious izakaya. As soon as I slid across the wooden door and entered the restaurant, the chefs and waiters started yelling at me! One of the other trainees then said to me "Oh you'd better take your shoes off before going in". So I assumed that they were yelling "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! TAKE YOUR BLOODY SHOES OFF?! WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE COMING IN HERE WITH YOUR SHOES ON!" We then had a lovely dinner with delicious food, and a week goes by. I later recalled the event in a conversation, and said to my friend "Yeh...like that time we were yelled at when we entered the restaurant". He turned to me and said "They weren't yelling at you. They were welcoming you. The restaurant was loud and they were just welcoming you inside".

Right.

So when I entered the restaurant last week, they were just saying "WELCOME!! COME IN, WELCOME TO OUR RESTAURANT WE HOPE YOU HAVE A GREAT TIME HERE, YOU ARE SO VERY WELCOME ENJOY OUR FOOD". Ok.

We went out for lunch the next day and ordered a delicious meat fry-up. There was Japanese-style battered chicken and other meats with a side of salad. One of the trainees speaks Japanese so he was very kind in ordering for us. Once the dishes were laid out on the table, the chef personally came around to ask how we were enjoying our meals. We all bowed and smiled and said arigato gozaimasu. The trainee translated that the chef said not to forget the sauce. My friend reached for one of the sauce bottles and squeezed it generously all over the chicken. Suddenly, the chef cried out. I can only imagine he was saying:

Turns out my friend had just poured salad dressing all over her fried chicken. Poor chef.

Through my "Everything Once" philosophy, I have tried not to let my complete unfamiliarity with Japanese cuisine stop me from trying new foods. Yakitori is my absolute favourite at the moment - it's a delicious Japanese style of skewered chicken, although they don't just limit it to the breast and thigh:

So far I have eaten off a skewer:

• Chicken hearts
• Chicken tails
• Chicken liver
• Chicken skin

And then from a bowl, chicken intestines. I completely agree that if you're going to eat an animal, you shouldn't let any of it go to waste. That said, I'll be happy if I never have chicken liver or heart ever again...

An Aussie London Lawyer in Tokyo: Settling In

As most of you know, I was extremely lucky to be sent on secondment to Tokyo for my third rotation. I know you all want an update, because my inbox is flooded with kind messages from dear friends but all saying the same thing: "HOW IS TOKYO!?!"

There is a lot to say, more than I can cover in this post, so let's start at the very beginning. It's a very good place to start....

Being me, I packed a ridiculous amount of stuff to take with me to Tokyo. Not only filling up the two boxes allocated to us by our firm, but also taking an over-the-top amount of luggage on the plane which was physically impossible for me to carry (my friends very kindly helped me carry it up the hill to our apartments).

Speaking of apartments, I am thrilled to report that I have exactly 575% more space all to myself than I did in London - we each get a studio apartment, and my old 2.5m x 2.5m bedroom pales in comparison.


I was so happy to confirm that we had Japanese toilets in our apartment. At least ours have pictures where you can kind of gauge what their function is: bidet spray, warm seat, warm air etc. I went to a work dinner last week, and hung around in the bathroom for what seemed like forever, pressing all the buttons (and getting some unpleasant surprises) until I found the one that made the toilet flush!

A few hours after landing, we were taken out by the outgoing trainees to a delicious izakaya (type of casual Japanese restaurant, though its business card suspiciously calls it a "Specialty Store". That must mean something different here). It was not only our firm's trainees who went to the dinner, it was a group of the trainees of all the different law firms here in Tokyo. Apparently this will be my main social group while I'm here.

There's a word here, gaijin, which means foreigner. When I think of the word gaijin, I think predominantly of white "expats" who stick together and don't bother to learn the language. It's used almost like a punchline here - "a gaijin supermarket" or "ordering like a typical gaijin". It seems like the goal of those who live here long-term and speak Japanese is to be as little gaijin as possible, but it's not something you can ever escape. I really hope I can learn as much of the language and customs as I can, so that I'll at least be a respectful gaijin!

On our first whole day in Japan, we headed to the office to receive Emergency/ Earthquake training. Well frankly that scared the sh*t out of me. THAT'S the first thing on the agenda? We were told all about the Fukashima earthquake 5 years ago, and how the building swayed back and forth so much that the solicitors got motion sickness. At least they were safe! We have an "emergency pack" both at work and at home, which feature canned food, water, helmets, blankets and first aid (mine is below). Apparently there are so many tremors and small earthquakes here that I will definitely experience at least one during my time here.

We then got given our Japanese business cards (English on one side, Japanese characters on the other side). The absolute best thing was that our names had been translated into Japanese pronunciation. My last name was SOOOOOOOO fantastic. An example is watching Friends in Japanese (PS available on Netflix) - over here we get Chan-de-rah Bing.

That night, we were taken out by the entire firm for a "Goodbye old trainees/ hello new trainees" night out on the town. Wow. I mean what a crazy night. It started off with pre-drinks, followed by dinner at a restaurant where the size of your drink doubles every time you order. By the end, the size of the glasses become ridiculous!

We headed to karaoke after that, it was so much fun! The group had booked a private room, and the drinks kept flowing. Unlike in Lost in Translation, where one person has the microphone and people respectfully listen to their awful singing, we had 4 microphones and the entire group was dancing and singing at the top of their lungs - no cause for any stage fright!

It was not this calm

We then headed to a club. By this stage I had acquired stickers on my face, and when we went inside and pushed our way through the crowd, the Japanese club-goers stared at my face. They were understandably puzzled as to why I had stickers on my face, but what was less understandable was when they started to push the stickers. Multiple people poked at my face as though they were pushing buttons and were curious to find out what each button did (now that I think about it, kind of like my fascination with the toilet buttons). My friend tells me not to flatter myself, and that the stickers were probably falling off and the Japanese club-goers were helpfully sticking them back on. For whatever reason, it was a strange end to a strange night.

And that concludes my tale of the first 1.5 days of my secondment!

Pro bono and my first ever "appearance"

This is a bit of a long post, but you will be rewarded with a highly embarrassing story at the end.

A speedy update

Firstly, I'm sorry for the two month delay. The end of year period was exceptionally busy and then I headed back home for Christmas. Two blissful weeks at home in Australia, over our summer break (I have to constantly remind people at work that Santa prefers his business trips to Australia):

Coming back to London felt a little bit strange and I was homesick. The grim cold snap didn't exactly help either:

Pro bono work

One of the things I had to look forward to on my return was a hearing for my pro bono client (I don't think they're technically our 'clients' in the legal sense, as we're volunteers helping them to help themselves, but I'll use the term here as a shorthand). This would be my first ever appearance...but I'm getting ahead of myself...

Our firm has great programs where we have the opportunity to give back to the local community. I've seen a few people now, and wanted to share the most interesting stories with you here:

1. The surprise offender

My first time at the clinic involved shadowing an experienced trainee (a good friend of mine). We saw a middle-aged man who spoke to us in broken English. He seemed vulnerable and I was glad that we could help. Eleven years ago his credit card had been stolen, and £2,000 was spent online before he was able to shut the credit card down. He reported it to the police. Now, 11 years later he got a bill for £2,000 from a debt collection agency on that same closed credit card. My friend and I were excited to problem solve and right this wrong. Part of the process we must go through is a conflict check, and unfortunately in this case there was a conflict and so we could not take on the case. The conflict check did come back with an interesting result however: our potential client turned out to have been jailed for 3 years for heroin dealing, and was a member of a known narcotics gang. We were like:

Now of course that doesn't mean that he should be charged £2,000 for a debt he didn't incur. As my friend also pointed out, it doesn't mean he wasn't vulnerable - we really had no idea what was going on in his life. I was sad to call him and refer him to other programs, but it did give us a window into a very different sort of London life.

2. The cheapskate

The third person I saw was not quite what I expected. He was in his mid-twenties, white, British and clearly well-educated. He was upset that, as a consultant, he had not been paid his bonus. Having reviewed the documents, it did seem like he had a case (albeit a weak one). What really ground my gears though, was discovering that HE EARNED MORE THAN I DID AND COULD HAVE AFFORDED ACTUAL LEGAL ADVICE! 

What I wanted to do in the interview:

"You're taking resources (i.e. my time) away from other people who actually could not afford legal advice?? Go and hire a lawyer you cheapskate!!"

Instead, I probably looked like this:

We helped him anyway, even when with further evidence it was shown that his case wasn't as strong as we had initially thought. He eventually decided to accept the situation and give up on his bonus. Little shit.

3. A clusterf**k of injustice and my first 'appearance'

The person on whom I have spent the most time has been a Hungarian man in his early 50s, who cannot speak or read English. Incredibly, to register a car in someone's name all it takes is a single signature on a form which is then posted to the DVLA. The DLVA does not run any ID checks but instead plugs that name straight into the system. What a ridiculously idiotic system, vulnerable to all kind of abuse.

Someone had used my client's name to register a car. We think it was his dodgy ex-housemate who had been charged with drug offences and had the police attend my client's house on numerous occasions looking for him, but we have no proof. In 2014, my client started getting penalty charge notices (i.e. parking fines) in the mail. But because he could not read English, and would not be expecting a letter in relation to car (given that he had never owned a car and did not have a UK drivers licence), he ignored them. Mistake. 

He paid up, frightened, not really understanding the situation and thinking he had no choice. He reported the fraud to the police (who did nothing about it), and hired a translator who helped him to file witness statements to the Court. The witness statements were again, in broken English, and he did not attach any documents. The Court refused to accept his witness statements out of time. The bailiffs kept coming to his house.

He could not afford legal advice, and in Hungary there is no such thing as Citizens Advice Bureaus (in Australia called Community Legal Centres) who provide free advice. Finally he met someone, who knew someone, who knew about these centres and eventually they got in touch with us. He had around 20 parking fines from 4 different Councils, totalling over £3,000. It was an insight into how difficult life is as a migrant to a country where you don't speak the language or understand the legal processes.

My friend and I were like...LET'S DO THIS.

We've spent months challenging each fine, with one Council (I am going to name drop here - the London Borough of bloody Newham) being particularly obstinate. We finally appealed all the way to the Environment and Traffic Adjudicators. This was the hearing I had to look forward to on my return to London.

The hearing - a saga so ridiculous it would only happen to me

The night before the hearing, I prepared for hours. I wrote some oral submissions. I created a diagram showing how the signature on the form was different to his signature. I had just spent the past 2 weeks in a public inquiry, and so was feeling inspired by all the barristers and cross-examination that I saw. I was ready.

The next day, my friend and I headed to Angel Tube Station. We exited the station and she suddenly said: "Wait why did you bring us here? The Tribunal is at Chancery Lane". Shit!! 

We jumped into a cab, thinking it would be quickest, but of course it immediately ground to a halt and we were stationary in standstill traffic. Shit!!

We finally got to Chancery Lane, and I took my friend to where Google Maps indicated. She said "Why are we in this street? Furnival Lane is over there". Shit!!

I sprinted to the Tribunal, making it there with 3 mins to spare. Luckily the hearing was running late, so I had about 10 minutes to regroup and calm down. Deep breaths. I started to psych myself up again. I was ready for this. I was finally going to do the work that lawyers do on TV. This was my Alicia Florrick/ Diane Lockhart moment!

We walked into the small room and sat down. I started to speak, but the Adjudicator cut me off and spoke directly to my client and his translator. I was literally sitting on the edge of my seat. I was thinking, "c'mon, ask me a question! Any question! I know all the answers!" 

The adjudicator introduced himself and said that the result of this adjudication would be binding. He then said: "Now before I go any further, I have read your appeal submissions and seen the evidence that you presented, and I agree with your submissions that Mr X was not the owner of the vehicle at the time".

Wait what?? ... That's it??

Oh my god, that's it. I didn't get to say anything.

Did I realise this at the time and shut up? No. 

I kept trying to add some kind of value but I was simultaneously trying to stay quiet and look disinterested. If I'm honest, I was still like this:

At the end of the short hearing, the adjudicator indicated we should return to the waiting room and he would write and print his judgment immediately. As we stood up to go, he turned to my friend and, glancing in my direction, said "I'm afraid I must have cost your colleague the chance to practice her advocacy"...

Yep. He really said that. My Hermione-esque performance must have been all over my face.

And that, my friends, is the story of my first ever appearance as a lawyer. Classic.

My love / not so love relationship with London

"Hate" is much too strong a word about this great city. London is such a unique, vibrant, diverse and bustling city and I've really enjoyed living here the past 9 months. So I thought a little summary about what it's like to live in London might be timely - the goods and the bads!

The walk to work

So some of you know that I live in East London, which is walking distance to work. After hitting my snooze button 4-5 times I'm usually running late, so I always leave the house feeling a little flustered. In an attempt to regroup and get a little zen before arriving at the office, I always take a deep breath in to relax...

...only it's London and there is tonnes of traffic next to me and the air doesn't smell so good. And that's on a good day. Every few times I take that deep inhalation, I happen to be walking past one of those red old-timey phone booths that someone has taken a piss in. Yep, I take a big gulp of piss air.

On the other hand, walking to work can be great BECAUSE of the traffic. Back home, one of my favourite things to do was to sing in the car. No-one could hear me (although my family know a highly embarrassing story that proves that's not always true) and so I could sing to my heart's content. Now that I have no car, I live with house mates and in a high density area, I don't have anywhere private to sing. The unexpectedly good thing about noisy London traffic is that I can sing on my way to work and no-one can hear me!! It puts me in such a good mood:

The weather

Well you all know what I'm going to say here, though I really didn't expect it to be this bad! Because my room is so small, I only have room for two season's worth of clothing at a time, which I alternate. In June I optimistically swapped over to my "summer clothes" in anticipation for some much needed Vitamin D and warm weather. I can tell you that NOT ONCE did I wear any of my summer dresses, let alone shorts - I mean what was I thinking by bringing out my shorts? This is a better description of England in summer:

On the plus side, the UK does the holiday season really well. When I was studying here last year, I was amazed that Bridget Jones Christmas jumpers are actually a thing - it wasn't exaggerated in the movie. And this man proves that you can still be handsome in a ridiculous Christmas jumper.

Another great thing about winter in London are the ice rinks - there is one opening up right near my work! I started to think about how my life will be infinitely better now that I have my own personal ice rink to go to after work. But then I remembered that I work in a law firm and that I'll most likely be inside watching the holiday goers laugh their stupid laughs and have their stupid fun and I'll longingly gaze at them wishing I could have some of that:

The tube

I can't post an update about London without mentioning all that is weird and wonderful about the tube. You see some really great characters there. My favourite was definitely a guy in his late-20s, with some serious dreads, who brought his own old school boom-box on the tube at around 11.30pm. Everyone was really lifted by the music and were smiling embarrassed smiles. It didn't quite have the effect that The Lonely Island said it would, but it came close!

On the other hand, there's also so much potential for awkwardness on the tube. There's the squishing onto the carriage during peak hour, not knowing where to hold onto, you take so long to make a decision that the tube starts moving and you jolt and instantly grab onto the nearest thing which of course happens to be another person's hand. 

That's nothing though compared to my experience last weekend. I was sitting on an almost empty tube and I had forgotten to bring something to read. I glanced over at the guy reading his newspaper next to me, and was intrigued by a headline, so I leaned a little closer and kept reading. I might have leaned in a bit more. He realised that someone was breathing heavily right into his ear, turned around slowly and we locked eyes:

It was horrible. 

The other thing that I can never seem to get right is to remember to take out my oyster card when I'm about to get to the ticket barriers. Stepping off the tube I always elect to walk up the escalators (it of course counts as exercise for the day) and I walk up those steps focusing on not appearing too puffed and sweaty and like I'm regretting my decision. As soon as I reach the top, I reach casually for my oyster card before I realise that I have no idea where it is:

I end up having to awkwardly shuffle out of everyone's way before I can have a proper dig through my handbag. 

London's little mysteries

There are still some things that I want/ need to figure out before I leave this city. At the top of my list is to find out the identity and purpose of this one man who works in my area. On my way to work I sometimes choose the quieter option down narrow, hip Old Street lane ways. When I do, I pass by a particular window and this same white-haired man is sitting right in the window typing on a laptop. Who is he? And why is he working at 7.30am in the morning? And why does he never look up - his location is perfect for people watching and yet he is so dedicated to his computer. Yesterday was a revelation to me, because I SAW SOMEONE ELSE IN THE ROOM. I will get to the bottom of this if I have to knock on his window myself.