Last Friday after work I went to Bar Salsa on Charing Cross Road. It was a fun night and it was packed as ever. Weird thing was, I’m usually always ready for a dance if the music is good, but I felt really uncomfortable when I decided to have a quick baile. Unless you’re dancing as part of a couple, you feel out of place on that dancefloor. That feeling was really palpable and I’ve never experienced it before.

When I went there for my birthday a few weeks ago, one of my mates nearly got into a fight with a couple when the guy knocked into her and then the woman stepped on her foot with stilettos (ouch). When my friend said something to them about it, they were like – we’re dancing, this is what happens. No apology.

I still got in a couple of dances with some guy friends, so it wasn’t a total waste.

So, at this moment I’m at an internet cafe in The Gambia, West Africa. I’m halfway through my 2 week holiday here, staying in the Senegambia / Kololi area. It’s my 3rd time in West Africa (my first trip was around my 30th birthday last year, when I went to Senegal, then I went to Gambia again last June). The whole story about my previous trips would take at least another blog post or two, so I’ll leave that for later.

I’m going to have to work on a proper journal of my activities this time, as I’m already starting to lose track, but the highlights so far were holding a Royal Python in my hands at the reptile farm in Kartong (I was too chicken to hang it around my neck like another guy), and visiting the clever monkeys at the Bijilo Forest Park. Photos to follow!

I’ve gotta say though, that this can be a challenging place for an introvert to visit. The people here are very friendly and gregarious and are naturally curious about tourists, so you’ll often get stopped as you walk down the street and asked your name and where you come from, etc. It’s almost impossible to go for a quiet walk anywhere without being interrupted, so I prepare myself for that whenever I leave my accommodation. It is so beautiful though.

I was only in the busy Accident & Emergency waiting room for a few minutes, as my chest/heart issues were prioritised over the old guy with the crutches and other victims of mishap. My heart rate and blood pressure were checked, I was X-Rayed and then my blood was taken. I waited on a trolley bed for a doctor to review my results. I was unprepared for the hours of waiting as I hadn’t brought along a book, so I drifted in and out of sleep until my mum turned up.

In spite of my sickness, I couldn’t help noticing Hot Doctor. He was a good-looking fella, probably in his late twenties. However, I think he probably knew how hot he was as he wasn’t wearing blue scrubs like his colleagues; he wore khaki combat pants and a tight blue top which had sleeves that ended just above a tattoo on his bicep. Though I spied the beginnings of a bald patch near his crown, he was still a hottie, and I hoped that he wasn’t going to me my doctor, as I wasn’t sure that being in his proximity was going to help my misbehaving heart.

Luckily I was seen by a female doctor who said that my heart was beating normally again and all my other results were okay, so I could leave. I was so happy to leave the hospital – there was so much misery and pain in that place – plus I was worried about catching MRSA or something worse.

One thing that struck me was how professional and pleasant the staff were, from the nurses to the porters who took me to and from the X-Ray Unit, and the doctor too. Of course the NHS isn’t perfect, but those at the front line are trying their best to deliver a good service.

Image: Suat Eman / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Saturday will be my 30th birthday. Funnily enough, I’ve been so busy worrying about malaria tablets and mosquito coils, etc. that I haven’t had much headspace left to agonise about turning 30 and being unemployed.

I may be able to update you on how things are going during the trip, but if not I’ll definitely give a summary of my experiences after my return on 31 March.

Cheerio.

The truth is that there are just a couple of people who I know in real life that know about this blog (because I chose to tell them about it), and they aren’t actually people that I deal with on a regular basis.

There isn’t anything on this blog that I’m ashamed of. Sure, I wouldn’t want to share this blog with a future employer, but it’s not half as revealing as some people’s Facebook pages. I’m hardly Belle de Jour (and yes, I know that she’s been unmasked now).

I can be quite open on here because this blog isn’t linked to my real identity; I never use my full name, I change the names of any friends I mention, and I am usually vague about locations. I use a contact form so my email address is hidden unless I choose to reply and my domain ownership info is masked for privacy, so I think a random weirdo is going to have a hard time finding me in person.

What do you guys think? Should I be more concerned?

Photo by rpongsaj

Tomorrow will be my last day at my current workplace. It will be such a relief to leave there and have a fresh start. Last week was quite a nightmare; it was impossible to get any of my work done and I ended up taking some reports home to write up.

One of the counsellors fell ill and I ended up taking him to the hospital as the emergency services apparently had no ambulances available due to the snow…

While I was in the waiting area, waiting while the counsellor was seen by a doctor, a guy sat down a couple of chairs away from me. A minute or two later he got up and asked me to keep an eye on his bag as he’d dropped his hat and wanted to retrieve it. I nodded my assent as he didn’t look like a nutter.

After a minute or two I became concerned about ‘suspicious packages’ but he came back, hat in hand, not long after that. Then he started talking to me, telling me about something that he said had changed his life for the better; it was basically to do with reciting a Japanese phrase as a mantra. What I found most interesting was when he said that he didn’t say this stuff to everyone, but he was telling me because I seemed ‘open’. Anyway, he was called away by a nurse, so that was that.

Later that day I met up with my previous manager at the talking shop. Spending time with her again reminded me of how supportive she was as a manager, and underlined how bad things had become for me since she’d left. She was very encouraging of my plans to leave and start my new life and made me feel a lot more positive about everything.

This evening I finally told my mum that I’d quit my job. She was surprisingly okay with it. That’s one thing I don’t have to worry about anymore, though I know she might change her mind if I don’t find a job soon.

Onwards and upwards.

I did it at the end of one of my weekly meetings with my manager. She seemed glad on my behalf, but I wasn’t sure if she was just glad to see the back of me. She also asked me not to discuss it with anyone at work as she was planning to implement several big changes in our department and she didn’t want my leaving to distract from those issues.

So no one knew about it for a couple of weeks, until the director mentioned it to one of my colleagues. Then I was able to tell my co-workers, but I only told a couple of the counsellors, the ones that I was friendlier with. So it’s been really strange, having this big secret which has only been shared with a few people at a time at every stage.

About a week ago, my colleague sent around a memo about my leaving, so now everyone knows. Everyday last week I had counsellors telling me how sad they were to hear that I was leaving, and asking about my plans for the future. They’ve all been really sweet, and it was nice to know that my hard work has been appreciated there, even if my relationship with management hasn’t been great.

Although the plan had been to leave by the end of December, I’ve ended up offering to stay until the 3rd week of January as they owe me so much overtime that I’d have to leave tomorrow if I took it all this month. The benefit for me is having another month’s pay, and they get my knowledge and experience for another month. My post has already been advertised on Gumtree, and had 50+ responses before I left there a few hours after the ad went live, so they may even find a replacement before I leave.

I still haven’t told my parents about my decision to leave. My initial reason for delaying was that I wanted to have a clear plan of action before I told them. I still haven’t sorted my plans out, and I know my mum will panic if I tell her this without something else up my sleeve. And then I’ll feel even more anxious with that added pressure. I’ll have to tell her soon though.

I feel like I’ve made the right decision. It feels right to leave, but I’m worried about what I’m going to do next. Should I travel? Should I study? What would I study? Should I look for another job?

The only thing that I’m considering is to carry on with the website stuff, and try to make some money that way. It’s not an easy option, and there are no guarantees (but nothing in life is guaranteed anyway). I guess if things get difficult, I could do some office work/temping, but I’m reluctant to go straight back into that field. I’ve been looking for work online and in the newspapers, but nothing really jumped out at me.

I would like to travel abroad for a few weeks. I’ve been thinking about going to Senegal to have some African drumming lessons with my old teacher, but I’m not sure how safe it would be for me to be out there as a solo female, so more investigation is needed.

I’m thinking about quitting my job tomorrow, but I’m not sure of what else I could do to keep afloat. I’ve been thinking of leaving there for over a year and a half, since before my previous manager left, but I’ve carried on there in the hopes of finding another suitable job. Nothing promising has materialised yet, though I’ve been looking at newspapers and websites.

The trouble is that I don’t want to carry on with admin / reception work; I’ve been working in administration for the past 7 years and I just find it really draining, not to mention unfulfilling.

As an introvert too, I think I find my current job particularly difficult because I’m not naturally good at coping with constant interruptions. I also have a high level of sensitivity, so I often absorb the tensions of others around me. Add an workplace fraught with office politics, and you have my nightmare working environment.

Since my predecessor left in January, I’ve taken on a lot of her duties, and it’s basically impossible to do my job in the hours allocated to it. I’ve been juggling a lot of balls in the air, and it’s inevitable that I’ll drop a ball or two from time to time, and then I get it in the neck. They’ve told me that they can’t pay me overtime when I stay late, so either I give up my own time and stay late to complete various tasks that I wasn’t able to complete earlier due to various interruptions and emergencies, or leave the work undone and get criticised later.

Last week I overheard my manager and a colleague of mine having a laugh at my expense; a few months ago my manager also suggested that I should consider leaving, as I seemed unhappy…

In the current economic climate, I know that I should be happy to have a job, even one that I hate. After all, I only work 3 days a week, and the money is pretty good.

However, I exhaust myself so much when I’m at work that I often end up in bed for much of Thursday and Friday recovering. It has even gotten to the point where I tell friends to call me later in the week as I know I won’t have much energy to be social on my workdays. It stresses me out so much that I often don’t sleep properly, worrying about work issues in the middle of the night.

The idea of working part-time was originally to give me time to write and study, but it hasn’t turned out that way. I had to withdraw from a home study photography course a while ago as I couldn’t focus on it adequately.

A few people have suggested taking time off sick due to stress (like my predecessor did), but I’d rather not do that if I can avoid it. I’d rather leave and get on with my life.

The question is, what can I do next? I’ve been trying to make money online, but the money I’ve been making from my main site has decreased since last year and definitely isn’t enough to replace my earnings. I have several plans for new projects, but my energy levels are so low that I don’t focus on any for much time.

Other than that, I guess that I could look into temping. Maybe just a change of scene would be good for me. I’ve also thought about teaching English abroad, but I don’t think I’d enjoy teaching a class of people. I’ve also signed up to freelancer.com to see if I could get some web design / coding work, but it’s early days yet.

In one way, there aren’t many barriers stopping me from taking a chance; I don’t have to support a family, and I don’t have a mortgage or any real commitments. If I took off tomorrow for Alaska I’d only have to promise my mother to call her everyday.

My fear is that I’ll never leave this job if I don’t give myself a kick up the butt. The thought of leaving and jumping into the unknown is scary, but equally scary is the idea of staying where I am for another year. I have some money saved, so I could manage for a few more months without a job.

A while ago I made myself a promise that I’d leave this job by the end of this year. As I’d need to give them 2 months’ notice of my departure, that brings us to tomorrow.

Unfortunately my friend changed his mind due to his financial situation, but I still needed to get away from my life for a few days. In the end, I decided that the easiest and cheapest option was to go to Paris again. I sorted out return tickets with Easyjet and contacted my friend Claudette* to let her know that I’d be around. Although I’d stayed with her in the past, I was tempted to book a hotel for the freedom and personal space. However, Claudette insisted that I stay with her, so I accepted her offer. Unfortunately, when I arrived I discovered that Claudette was feeling unwell, so although she was quite welcoming, I felt a bit awkward about being there.

Anyway, I was set on visiting the Eiffel Tower (I’d seen it from a distance in the past), and as per Claudette’s instructions, on the morning of my second day I took the metro to Iena Station. When I exited the station I looked around, expecting to see the tower in view, but instead I discovered a lovely market. It was quite a varied market, with everything from clothes and jewellery to fresh fish, flowers and an African food stall.

One of the sellers gave me directions to the Eiffel Tower, and so within a couple of minutes I    found myself gazing at it across the Seine. I crossed the bridge and joined the massive queues. I went all the way up to the 3rd floor and saw some wonderful views of the city; it was definitely (and literally) the high point of my trip.

I was quite surprised by the number of young men who were all trying to flog the same tacky Eiffel Tower replicas and scarves around the tower and on the way to Trocadero station. They were especially in force at the exit from the tower, where you had to run a gauntlet to escape more than twenty of them.

Later on I wanted to visit Galleries Lafayette (a large department store), but after a quick walk around I ended up at the Food Hall where I picked up some Madeleine cakes and Lindt chocolates. I carried on walking around Boulevard Haussemann and the surrounding areas and found the Academy of Music, which I’d seen on a previous trip to Paris.

After taking a break in Starbucks (I know!) I came across Surcouf, a great computer store. I have never seen such a collection of netbook cases in an assortment of colours and designs – I almost wished that my MSI Wind hadn’t come with its own case so I could justify getting one.

Although I was flagging from all the walking around, I had to try to keep myself amused until at least 5.30pm, when Claudette returned home from work. I wasn’t feeling so great that day, so I definitely regretted not booking a hotel to retreat to.

When I finally got back to Claudette’s place, I found out that she’d seen her GP, who’d given her a sick note, so she’d been home all day. She’d wanted to take me out to a French restaurant on the other side of Paris, but as I was tired and in some pain I asked if we could stay closer to home. She seemed really annoyed about the change in plans, but in the end she made us some pasta, and we stayed in and watched dubbed episodes of Bewitched (Darrin Stephens is called Jean-Pierre, but Samantha and Endora kept their names!). I felt guilty for being a difficult guest.

As she wasn’t going to work the next day I was able to sleep in a bit (though honestly I found it difficult to sleep there — the walls seemed really thin as I could hear the neighbours on both sides). She seemed quite eager to get me out of the apartment, so I ventured over to Bercy Village. I visited some shops there, but enjoyed strolling around the nearby park too.

Then I went to the Maison Europienne de La Photographie, which had some great exhibitions featuring work by Henri Cartier-Bresson, Ferdinando Scianna and Gabriele Basilico. Unfortunately, I was kicked out before I could see all the exhibitions due to an electrical issue.

I found a Chinese restaurant where I ate a late lunch before I went to meet Claudette nearby. She took me around Marais, an arty and diverse area with Jewish influences. After leaving Marais we found a touristy area where I got some souvenir t-shirts. As I was a bit tired, I suggested going to the cinema; the only English movie (with French subtitles) was The Ugly Truth. I knew that it’d had bad reviews, but I just wanted a break from all the walking.

After the movie, Claudette took me to a creperie. She was really eager to get me to try some of the pancakes. When we got there she explained that you’d normally start with a savoury pancake, then follow with a sweet one. I tried the savoury pancake, but couldn’t finish it as I didn’t like the taste (I’m a really fussy eater). I was still a bit full from the Chinese meal I’d had earlier, and wasn’t really interested in any of the sweet pancakes, so I finished off with a mug of tea while she had hers.

I tried not to show my annoyance at the way she kept on telling me to try a sweet pancake, insisting over and over that I’d regret not having it. (I didn’t.)

At the end of the meal I offered to pay for both of us, to say thanks for her hospitality over the past few days. I took out my purse and discovered that I only had a couple of euros in change, and my credit card. I was baffled as I knew that I hadn’t spent all my money.

Claudette said that I must have spent it all, but I knew that wasn’t true. I paid for the meal with my credit card. Then she asked me if I had enough money to get to the airport…

On the way back to her flat I started thinking about all the things I’d bought that day. I’d started out with €180, and spent about €110 during the day. I couldn’t account for the rest. Then I thought back to the cinema; I hadn’t had enough change to buy a drink, so I’d broken a €20 note at the kiosk and got about  €17 back, plus I had a few more €20 notes in there.

Then I remembered that in the cinema before the movie started, I’d gone to the toilet and left my bags with Claudette. I couldn’t believe it, but I finally concluded that Claudette must have stolen my money.

I didn’t think that a pickpocket might have done it, as they would have just taken the whole purse – they wouldn’t have taken the time to open the purse, remove the notes and put it back. I might not have noticed a note or two going and would have assumed that I’d spent more than I thought, but taking everything was just too obvious.

I decided not to confront her about it, as I didn’t have real proof, but I felt violated and very disappointed in her.  An 11-year friendship down the toilet. The next morning I left for the airport with a heavy heart, but I was looking forward to going home.

Even without that experience, for much of my time during this trip I felt out of place, like I didn’t belong. Whenever I visit another city I feel like I’m almost auditioning it as an alternative home, in case I ever decide to leave London for a while (my short list includes New York and Tokyo).

I encountered some minor racial prejudice in Paris, and while it happens occasionally in London, it occurred quite frequently during my four days in Paris. Several times I noticed shopkeepers watching me like a hawk, and women suddenly clutching their handbags tightly as I walked past them. While I was out with Claudette I noticed that staff in shops and restaurants would acknowledge her and completely ignore me. I don’t remember experiencing  similar prejudice on my previous trips to Paris, but I chalked it up the right-wing establishment and socioeconomic factors.

I’d like to go on another trip again before the end of the year, maybe to Amsterdam, or a creative retreat or on the wolf-tracking holiday to Romania that I keep on thinking about…

Here are a few pics from my travels.

[Show as slideshow]

I’ll be back on Friday and will update you on my trip then. I don’t think I’m going to have much internet access (which is probably a good thing, as I need a break from it and everything else).