I can't remember when my obsession with London started. When I try to figure it out I get the same headache provoked by the Big Bang theory. Just like NYC, London has all the charms of a big city, specially for someone who grew up in the middle of nowhere like me.
Somehow I got sidetracked... And well, lots of "but back then", moving on... It wasn't until June 2011 when I came for a few concerts (of the same band -yes, it happens) that I fell in love with the city. It was its soul, its lights, its splendour, its cosmopolitanism, its movement, its majesty... I was captivated by London's charm. I was in the centre of the Universe, this was the place to be.
For personal reasons, I did not resume my plans to move here. Just one year ago, on February 2012, I was living at home, broke, unemployed and absolutely helpless, watching my youth going by (I call it the couch potato syndrome).
On March, I started the most meaningless internship in Journalism of my life. It was a joke, just not particularly funny, except for the time when they brought up the Watergate scandal; I couldn't help but imagine Woodward and Berstein spitting their drinks all over the floor. Anyways... I got fired (after a month) because I was allegedly shy.
The led to April when I got my driver's license (1100 euros, btw) and then my friend from the university came to visit. I was miserable. I thought I would never be a journalist, I felt I was a failure. I had just had a major personal disappointment and all of a sudden there were no pills or sharp objects at home (just kidding!). So I told my friend that I felt I wasn't cut out to be a journalist and she said: "What? One of the top students in the class is not cut out to be a journalist!" That kind of switched something on in my brain. Being with her reminded me of the projects we had at the university, of the passion I had once for journalism and the dreams I cherished of seeing the world. There were no more than a few ashes remaining from that fire, but something ignited in me again.
The first thing I needed was a change of ambience. There was nothing in Malaga for me, and the only place I felt I wanted to go to was London. There was something here for me. So I checked on Gumtree http://www.gumtree.com for jobs. I was looking for any type of job, but I couldn't help checking out the media section, even though I knew nobody would hire someone who is not a native English speaker to work as a journalist in English.
There was an ad for freelance work. It was about writing articles and, well, applying couldn't hurt. It was perfect because I could do them at home and get some money. The editor was American and she requested two samples. I had to write them for them on the subject she gave me. I submitted them and she liked them. Yes, I had had people (English native speakers) proof reading them for me. What are friends for, anyways? :S
This is one of the articles I sent: http://www.sexynwet.com/OnDemandBlog/ride-the-wave-in-mundaka.aspx
May was all about getting my driver's license and writing articles. I wrote 90 articles on May and then I got assigned 34 more articles due on June 7th. It was a lot of work yet it was heaven-sent because I was broken-hearted. The articles gave me the motivation I needed. When the project was over, I was already too caught up in having no time at all. I immensely enjoyed writing those articles. Most of them were about travelling. At the same, I was tutoring English, so I saved some money. I went to Yoga classes and visualised myself in London. Positive thinking, positive thinking.
When I submitted the last articles, I was so anxious because I had nothing to do that I started looking for a job again. Within two days, I got an interview for an internship that could lead to a full time job in a business magazine. The interview was going to take place on June 14th and I just said yes. So it was a bit crazy and I knew I wouldn't get the internship, but I had saved money from article writing and the tutoring, and I really needed to get out of Malaga.
It was exhilarating to get on a plane again. I had been lying on a sofa for so long in a small town that the thought of an airport fascinated me. I stayed at a hostel the night before the interview, I put on a blue dress and I told myself that even if I wasn't going to get it, I would give it my best shot.
I got lost getting there. I walked down Oxford street and then arrived at Berkeley square. I envied everyone who lives in this city. The buildings, the flags, the parks, the cafes... I wanted to live here!
After the interview, I went back to the hostel and I met two Spanish guys at the Internet room. I took the chance to ask many questions since I had been misled by a Dutch friend who told me that to be able to live in London, you need to work 90 hours a week.
They told me a fair few things. It is possible to live in London without being a slave, it is a wonderful experience and you don't need that much money to move there. "You should have come for a whole week and give CVs out in every restaurant. We have a friend who got a job within two days", one of them said. They also told me that it wasn't that expensive to live there. "It depends on the area where you live. Zone 1 or central is the most expensive one, and the prices go down as you move farther from the city centre. We share a room and pay 80 pounds a week in zone 3".
Indeed, you only need to want it bad enough to get over your fears and have the courage to do it. And that is what had been stopping me for so long. Fear. I was afraid of facing life, of taking care of myself, particularly in such a big city -couch potato syndrome at work again.
That doesn't mean that I didn't have a panic attack when I got the email from the magazine congratulating me on getting the internship.
Somehow I got sidetracked... And well, lots of "but back then", moving on... It wasn't until June 2011 when I came for a few concerts (of the same band -yes, it happens) that I fell in love with the city. It was its soul, its lights, its splendour, its cosmopolitanism, its movement, its majesty... I was captivated by London's charm. I was in the centre of the Universe, this was the place to be.
For personal reasons, I did not resume my plans to move here. Just one year ago, on February 2012, I was living at home, broke, unemployed and absolutely helpless, watching my youth going by (I call it the couch potato syndrome).
On March, I started the most meaningless internship in Journalism of my life. It was a joke, just not particularly funny, except for the time when they brought up the Watergate scandal; I couldn't help but imagine Woodward and Berstein spitting their drinks all over the floor. Anyways... I got fired (after a month) because I was allegedly shy.
The led to April when I got my driver's license (1100 euros, btw) and then my friend from the university came to visit. I was miserable. I thought I would never be a journalist, I felt I was a failure. I had just had a major personal disappointment and all of a sudden there were no pills or sharp objects at home (just kidding!). So I told my friend that I felt I wasn't cut out to be a journalist and she said: "What? One of the top students in the class is not cut out to be a journalist!" That kind of switched something on in my brain. Being with her reminded me of the projects we had at the university, of the passion I had once for journalism and the dreams I cherished of seeing the world. There were no more than a few ashes remaining from that fire, but something ignited in me again.
The first thing I needed was a change of ambience. There was nothing in Malaga for me, and the only place I felt I wanted to go to was London. There was something here for me. So I checked on Gumtree http://www.gumtree.com for jobs. I was looking for any type of job, but I couldn't help checking out the media section, even though I knew nobody would hire someone who is not a native English speaker to work as a journalist in English.
There was an ad for freelance work. It was about writing articles and, well, applying couldn't hurt. It was perfect because I could do them at home and get some money. The editor was American and she requested two samples. I had to write them for them on the subject she gave me. I submitted them and she liked them. Yes, I had had people (English native speakers) proof reading them for me. What are friends for, anyways? :S
This is one of the articles I sent: http://www.sexynwet.com/OnDemandBlog/ride-the-wave-in-mundaka.aspx
May was all about getting my driver's license and writing articles. I wrote 90 articles on May and then I got assigned 34 more articles due on June 7th. It was a lot of work yet it was heaven-sent because I was broken-hearted. The articles gave me the motivation I needed. When the project was over, I was already too caught up in having no time at all. I immensely enjoyed writing those articles. Most of them were about travelling. At the same, I was tutoring English, so I saved some money. I went to Yoga classes and visualised myself in London. Positive thinking, positive thinking.
When I submitted the last articles, I was so anxious because I had nothing to do that I started looking for a job again. Within two days, I got an interview for an internship that could lead to a full time job in a business magazine. The interview was going to take place on June 14th and I just said yes. So it was a bit crazy and I knew I wouldn't get the internship, but I had saved money from article writing and the tutoring, and I really needed to get out of Malaga.
It was exhilarating to get on a plane again. I had been lying on a sofa for so long in a small town that the thought of an airport fascinated me. I stayed at a hostel the night before the interview, I put on a blue dress and I told myself that even if I wasn't going to get it, I would give it my best shot.
I got lost getting there. I walked down Oxford street and then arrived at Berkeley square. I envied everyone who lives in this city. The buildings, the flags, the parks, the cafes... I wanted to live here!
After the interview, I went back to the hostel and I met two Spanish guys at the Internet room. I took the chance to ask many questions since I had been misled by a Dutch friend who told me that to be able to live in London, you need to work 90 hours a week.
They told me a fair few things. It is possible to live in London without being a slave, it is a wonderful experience and you don't need that much money to move there. "You should have come for a whole week and give CVs out in every restaurant. We have a friend who got a job within two days", one of them said. They also told me that it wasn't that expensive to live there. "It depends on the area where you live. Zone 1 or central is the most expensive one, and the prices go down as you move farther from the city centre. We share a room and pay 80 pounds a week in zone 3".
Indeed, you only need to want it bad enough to get over your fears and have the courage to do it. And that is what had been stopping me for so long. Fear. I was afraid of facing life, of taking care of myself, particularly in such a big city -couch potato syndrome at work again.
That doesn't mean that I didn't have a panic attack when I got the email from the magazine congratulating me on getting the internship.
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