Black hole of work
Sleep (a little)
Office by 6:30 (am)
15 minutes for lunch
Leave office (as late as possible)
Go home
Eat pasta
Collapse
Sleep
I wouldn’t really qualify this as a fulfilling existence.
I stop at a bagel place on Brick lane most mornings to pick up something for breakfast (we are given free breakfast at work, but I get bored of the same things over and over…)
The people know me, and we chat, there are not many people on brick lane at that hour- the night revellers have gone home, and normal people are not up yet. The bagel guys know I work in the city, they know the weird hours I work. The cleaner tells me I am lucky to have a job- his daughter is my age and has been unemployed for nearly a year. “they are prats down there, but you should put up with it until the recession is over” he tells me with paternal concern. Of course he is right.
But how much longer is the recession going to last?
21.7.09
budapest
There is possibly no place I would rather be on a warm july afternoon than outside a café on Liszt Ferenc ter having a glass of wine with friends.
It is truly amazing how the standard of living, at least when it comes to such minor daily pleasures, is significantly higher here than in the north western regions of the continent. It has been six years since I moved to this city, and five since I left, which in itself shocks me. It seems so recent. I can still vividly remember the mornings running down Andrassy ut, late for a historiography lecture. Every time I come back here it seems like time has stood still for me. I went back to my old department, and wandered around the campus. Little had change, which reassured me that not too much time had passed. In the evening we all met again, the great ceu gang. It had been two years since we were all reunited in one city, and it was good to catch up with everyone. On the surface not much had changed, although new boyfriends and girlfriends appeared, struggling to catch up on our cliquish and ancient gossip (do you remember 4 years ago when….). We were all there for Kati and Gabor’s wedding, it was warm and sunny, and the mood was festive. We drank, ate and smoked far too much, and I realise that while I will never and probably could never live again in this wonderful place, I do indeed miss it terribly. In the middle of the night I walked back from the castle district to my hotel in Pest. Climbing down the steps below the castle, I stopped for some moments and looked back, amazed at just how beautiful Buda is all lit up. I eventually found my way down to the embankment, there was a concert being spontaneously staged by some guys with guitars and an amp. People were playing football and table tennis alongside the Danube. Skateboarders and cyclists were still out, and meat was being grilled on open fires. It was a carnival atmosphere, and yet it was just an ordinary summer Saturday evening. The music echoed across the river, and I could still vaguely hear it as if got off the Chain bridge in Pest, and stumbled off to my hotel.
It is truly amazing how the standard of living, at least when it comes to such minor daily pleasures, is significantly higher here than in the north western regions of the continent. It has been six years since I moved to this city, and five since I left, which in itself shocks me. It seems so recent. I can still vividly remember the mornings running down Andrassy ut, late for a historiography lecture. Every time I come back here it seems like time has stood still for me. I went back to my old department, and wandered around the campus. Little had change, which reassured me that not too much time had passed. In the evening we all met again, the great ceu gang. It had been two years since we were all reunited in one city, and it was good to catch up with everyone. On the surface not much had changed, although new boyfriends and girlfriends appeared, struggling to catch up on our cliquish and ancient gossip (do you remember 4 years ago when….). We were all there for Kati and Gabor’s wedding, it was warm and sunny, and the mood was festive. We drank, ate and smoked far too much, and I realise that while I will never and probably could never live again in this wonderful place, I do indeed miss it terribly. In the middle of the night I walked back from the castle district to my hotel in Pest. Climbing down the steps below the castle, I stopped for some moments and looked back, amazed at just how beautiful Buda is all lit up. I eventually found my way down to the embankment, there was a concert being spontaneously staged by some guys with guitars and an amp. People were playing football and table tennis alongside the Danube. Skateboarders and cyclists were still out, and meat was being grilled on open fires. It was a carnival atmosphere, and yet it was just an ordinary summer Saturday evening. The music echoed across the river, and I could still vaguely hear it as if got off the Chain bridge in Pest, and stumbled off to my hotel.
7.7.09
on spain
It is frustrating launching a major project involving Spaniards, particularly in the Summer. Their working hours are just completely at odds with the rest of the continent.
I am dealing with some of the country’s most important bankers, insurers and automotive executives. Yet, when it is not a national or regional holiday, which it often is, many of them have “summer office hours” that run from about 8-3, making it impossible to get anything done after that hour. Even the banks that stay open “late” seem to have highly flexible working regimes. For example, last week I called a contact in one of the Spain’s biggest bank at 2pm. I called on his mobile and could hear the clinking of plates in the background. He said he was having lunch in a restaurant. I asked when it would be convenient for me to call back, to which he replied that he THOUGHT he would be done eating by 4:30! My French colleague and I stared at each other in disbelief, and jealousy. On Thursday I tried to arrange a meeting with another banker for the following morning….but no, he had decided, at the last minute, to take a four day weekend to go to the beach, and asked us to rearrange the meeting until the following Tuesday!! He then preceded to describe his envisioned weekend: the beach, relaxing, having some drinks….i work daily with industry players in Germany, Italy (yes even ITALY) France and the UK, and all of us are stuck in the office for at least 10 hours or more a day. Yet arguably the best European bank at the moment is a Spanish one…so what the hell is the secret? I confess, I am jealous, horribly, horribly jealous.
I am dealing with some of the country’s most important bankers, insurers and automotive executives. Yet, when it is not a national or regional holiday, which it often is, many of them have “summer office hours” that run from about 8-3, making it impossible to get anything done after that hour. Even the banks that stay open “late” seem to have highly flexible working regimes. For example, last week I called a contact in one of the Spain’s biggest bank at 2pm. I called on his mobile and could hear the clinking of plates in the background. He said he was having lunch in a restaurant. I asked when it would be convenient for me to call back, to which he replied that he THOUGHT he would be done eating by 4:30! My French colleague and I stared at each other in disbelief, and jealousy. On Thursday I tried to arrange a meeting with another banker for the following morning….but no, he had decided, at the last minute, to take a four day weekend to go to the beach, and asked us to rearrange the meeting until the following Tuesday!! He then preceded to describe his envisioned weekend: the beach, relaxing, having some drinks….i work daily with industry players in Germany, Italy (yes even ITALY) France and the UK, and all of us are stuck in the office for at least 10 hours or more a day. Yet arguably the best European bank at the moment is a Spanish one…so what the hell is the secret? I confess, I am jealous, horribly, horribly jealous.
Inscription à :
Articles (Atom)