God Save the Queen
We arrived in Heathrow last night and after an interminable walk along what seemed like three miles of moving walkways (here they call them conveyors) we finally reached customs. The line wasn't too long, but it still took about 45 minutes to get to the front, and then another twenty minutes or so to process our visas and biometric information. In the future it will be quicker, but since this was our first time in as residents they had to match our fingerprints, etc.
The kids made it through the long plane ride and the long customs line like troopers. Some kids who no doubt had endured longer travel, less sleep, and more lines, entered full meltdown stage in the customs line. One boy about Becca's age took a huge stuffed dolphin and hit his dad furiously again and again screaming, "Die!" Another boy (from a different family) sprawled on the floor in a full-blown, fist-pounding tantrum. The kids looked on with wide eyes. The parents for the most part ignored them, probably overwhelmed themselves and a bit embarrassed. They needn't have been, for anyone with any sense could entirely sympathize, indeed empathize, with those kids. I felt like hollering myself after lugging our carry-ons through those lines. I did want to pick up all the sad kids, though, and read them a story or something, give them a snack, tell them it was almost over. Seems like customs could try to make it easier somehow on families with young kids, but I guess they do the best they can.
While we took our turn in the line, and our customs official ushered us smoothly into the country, I also thought about how fortunate we were to be getting in so easily when there are so many hundreds of thousands of people in the world who yearn for life in a safer country than their own. Here I was, with my Teir 1 Visa (thanks to my Exceptionally Talented husband, according the Her Majesty the Queen) moving from one rich, free, safe country to another. It felt a bit extravagant.
But my musings were short-lived, as I then had to haggle two kids and five bags through the checkpoint and onto the Baggage Reclaim. I picked up our four more checked bags there, and then went through the Nothing to Declare door to look for Eric. From there, we found Eric (helpful that he is a foot taller than everyone else and therefore easy to spot in a crowd), and drove to our hotel.
We couldn't see anything last night (other than headlights coming at us from the wrong side of the road :)) but this morning when we woke up and took a drive we saw green fields and sheep as far as the eye could see. If I had a pound for every sheep I've seen...
We found a restaurant open on New Years' Day in the city of Bicester (pronounced Bister). The food was amazingly delicious. I've heard so many jokes about British food, but honestly our traditional breakfasts were delicious, and the food so much cheaper (and higher quality) than what we're used to in America.
Now we're back at the hotel and Eric thinks it's a bit ridiculous that I'm blogging rather than looking for houses (we are, after all, technically homeless, or should I say, without permanent accommodation at the moment.) So I'll go look for somewhere to live. I just feel compelled to write all this down so the kids have a record of it all, and a blog seemed like the easiest way to do that!
The kids made it through the long plane ride and the long customs line like troopers. Some kids who no doubt had endured longer travel, less sleep, and more lines, entered full meltdown stage in the customs line. One boy about Becca's age took a huge stuffed dolphin and hit his dad furiously again and again screaming, "Die!" Another boy (from a different family) sprawled on the floor in a full-blown, fist-pounding tantrum. The kids looked on with wide eyes. The parents for the most part ignored them, probably overwhelmed themselves and a bit embarrassed. They needn't have been, for anyone with any sense could entirely sympathize, indeed empathize, with those kids. I felt like hollering myself after lugging our carry-ons through those lines. I did want to pick up all the sad kids, though, and read them a story or something, give them a snack, tell them it was almost over. Seems like customs could try to make it easier somehow on families with young kids, but I guess they do the best they can.
While we took our turn in the line, and our customs official ushered us smoothly into the country, I also thought about how fortunate we were to be getting in so easily when there are so many hundreds of thousands of people in the world who yearn for life in a safer country than their own. Here I was, with my Teir 1 Visa (thanks to my Exceptionally Talented husband, according the Her Majesty the Queen) moving from one rich, free, safe country to another. It felt a bit extravagant.
But my musings were short-lived, as I then had to haggle two kids and five bags through the checkpoint and onto the Baggage Reclaim. I picked up our four more checked bags there, and then went through the Nothing to Declare door to look for Eric. From there, we found Eric (helpful that he is a foot taller than everyone else and therefore easy to spot in a crowd), and drove to our hotel.
We couldn't see anything last night (other than headlights coming at us from the wrong side of the road :)) but this morning when we woke up and took a drive we saw green fields and sheep as far as the eye could see. If I had a pound for every sheep I've seen...
We found a restaurant open on New Years' Day in the city of Bicester (pronounced Bister). The food was amazingly delicious. I've heard so many jokes about British food, but honestly our traditional breakfasts were delicious, and the food so much cheaper (and higher quality) than what we're used to in America.
Now we're back at the hotel and Eric thinks it's a bit ridiculous that I'm blogging rather than looking for houses (we are, after all, technically homeless, or should I say, without permanent accommodation at the moment.) So I'll go look for somewhere to live. I just feel compelled to write all this down so the kids have a record of it all, and a blog seemed like the easiest way to do that!
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