Relocation Woes and Mastering the Art of Extreme Frugality
“Frugality is founded on the principle that all riches have limits” — Edmund Burke
R-r-relocation. Nobody ever said it was easy. In fact, most people are smarter playing it safe. As in not relocating. Sticking to what you know. If it ain’t broke don’t fix it right? Then, there’s a small minority of us itching to dip our toes into the unknown. We take-off. Even if we are shitting ourselves inside about doing so. Eternal wanderlust. Searching for something more profound. Even if we don’t exactly know what that profoundness is. We relocate. Somewhere new. A million miles away from what we consider “home.” Sink-or-swim. Do-or-die. Make it work. Or go home.
Hindsight is a beautiful thing. Only in hindsight, do we fully appreciate every painstaking emotionally upheaving facet of what relocation entails. Jumping on that plane well, that is just the beginning. Once you’re there. In that new location. In the thick of it. Best laid plans go out the window. You’re on your own. In a dog-eat-dog-city. That’ll shit on you if you don’t have your wits about you. You can avoid bird-poo moments though. Dodge the puddles of mud before they ruin your white-and-red Stan Smith Adidas sneakers. You do this by letting go. Putting a big fat match to preconceived notions you have about your new location.
Surrender. Dorothy.
Finding courage in the face of adversity.
Facing the everyday mountains you will have to conquer.
Focusing on why it is you decided to relocate in the first place. Why you chose to sacrifice family. Sacrifice good weather. Sacrifice the beach. Sacrifice “your normal.”
It is up to you kid. Do you play it safe? Or walk on the wild side?
Either way, you must choose and be prepared to learn things anew.
The Joys of Flat-hunting and Decimating Your Bank Account…
“Money is only a tool. It will take you wherever you wish, but it will not replace you as the driver.” — Ayn Rand
This will be your reality, if, you’re over the whole flat-sharing-living-with-pigs-thing. If you want privacy, you’ll pay for it. If you don’t have a job yet, you are destined to kiss goodbye a shit ton of money. Welcome to my world in London. Paying six month’s rent upfront + security deposit + administration + inventory fees. Bang. Within four days. Put in an offer on a flat. Parted with a shit ton of moola. There goes my inheritance. Virtually.
Now the real fun begins.
The rental paperwork. An arduous process. Eighteen days of waiting. And waiting. And waiting some more. Reference checks you end up failing because you have come from another country with no job lined up yet. Delving back into your past, to find a landlord who can vouch for your pristineness and paying rent on time. Financial straight jacketing is on.
Big time.
The leasing agent is breathing down your neck yet again. When you don’t hear from him, you start getting nervous. That it is all going to fall through and you are going to be homeless. You are supposed to be moving in five days. And the tenancy agreement still needs to be amended with additional clauses. Fuck my life. Fuck my life. Fuck my life.
The landlord’s wife wants to renegotiate the terms of your contract. A six-month lease now. By the end of month four, if you can’t pass another reference check or, are still in a probationary job period, (massively likely!) it's more moola upfront. You manage to renegotiate another 3-month’s upfront. That’s if you’ve been invited to extend your lease agreement. For another six months. Three-monthly chunks. Twice. Fuck my life. All is not lost though. If things are pear-shaped for me in six-month’s time, I can move out. Flatshare or go back to Australia. Simples.
The lessons you learn when you are in your new location. I had no idea that I would have to part with so much money so early in the piece. The joys of practically decimating your bank account before you have even begun. Welcome to big city life in London! Adulting the hard way in a city reeking of Brexit uncertainty for an EU-citizen. Familiarity is a million miles away. I have lost my mind. Completely.
Right now, all your thinking about is home. Divided by a wall. That separates you from Australia. From family. Homesickness rife. Three weeks in. Perfectly natural to want to throw the towel in, isn’t it? To want to jump on a plane and go back home. To doubt everything. Mostly myself. But the aim is to survive. Work to survive. Then reassess options later.
It’s about riding out those tumultuous, routine-less, job-less first few weeks. In fact, right off the first month at your new location. It has no doubt been hellishly gruelling as mine is turning out to be…
Hang in there tiger!
It’s gonna be okay.
Even if right now things don’t feel okay.
You Can’t Do Zip Without an Address…
“My address is like my shoes. It travels with me.” — Mary Harris Jones
In London, having an address is paramount. Without one, you cannot do zip. Can’t open a bank account. Can’t get a UK sim. Can’t get appropriately settled. If you are anything like me, you’re still finalising your tenancy agreement. Going back and forth with the leasing agent and landlord. A never-ending game of rental ping pong. It’s frustrating. My Airbnb hosts are now simultaneously temporary landlords and default references for referenced checks. Thanks, guys!
Rental paperwork in the UK is tedious. Fact. Housing-limbo is the new norm. For someone who is usually a routine-rat-with-things, it’s taken some getting used to. This is my new normal. The new normal for us relocators doing things our own way. Not dumping in with friends, couch-surfing and pissing off other people’s flatmates.
Thank god for Airbnb. I’d have been homeless by now without it.
Never-Ending Stairs Everywhere You Go…
“Always remember that striving and struggle precede success, even in the dictionary.” — Sarah Ban Breathnach
A tremendous pain in the arse. Stairs everywhere. No fucking lifts.
Taxis are a no-go. Unless you are desperate. Even then, avoid at all costs. It’s normal in London to struggle through the underground, and the overground with your entire life packed into a suitcase and copious bags stuffed full of stuff. Rain, hail, or shine.
No lifts. Just stairs. Like in the tube. Like in the overground. When you are lugging-around-heavy-arse-luggage-and-struggle-towning-in-the-process. It’s stairs only. Trying to haul things up and down stairs is impossibly horrific. I know. I’ve done it. Experienced it. It ain’t fun. You end up bruised and battered and your tolerance levels at breaking point. Pulling every muscle in your body. Or off the bone. You start pondering, was relocation worth all this pus and pain? Nope. Going it alone sucks you decide.
But you’ve got to get on with it. You can’t start losing your shit now. There is nobody to help you. Aside from the kind strangers, you have managed to cross paths with fortuitously. You thank your lucky stars for them being there. Restoring your faith in humanity. At this point, somebody offering to lug your suitcase up and down endless stairs is like winning the lottery. Gratitude-plus peeps. To all the good people of London, thanks a bunch!!!
Job Anxiety + Unemployment = Extreme Frugality…
“You gain strength, courage, and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You are able to say to yourself, I lived through this horror. I can take the next thing that comes along.” — Eleanor Roosevelt
The joys of endless job hunting. Once you’ve organised your flat, temporary living arrangements and guaranteed, you won’t be homeless anytime soon. But there’s always a delay moving into your new abode. You’ve got to wait. Weeks in fact. You didn’t expect that, did you? Nope. Last time you were in this town you rented half a bedroom and did flatshare via gumtree.
At the moment, you are following two trajectories. Hitting up recruitment agents and applying for absolutely everything via reputable job websites. Chained to your iPhone. Chained to your MacBook Pro. Anxiously waiting for somebody to call. With a job. Trying to be positive amidst so much uncertainty. The universe, please help me!!!
You keep telling yourself you need to have a job locked-in-and-loaded by the end of the week. The next week. MAX. Your mind is on your dwindling finances. What little money you have in your Australian bank accounts. You blatantly refuse to think about dipping into your emergency fund. Out of the question. Mojo stays. Untouched and untouchable.
The joys of withdrawing money and having to double it against the pound to keep track. Converting back to Australian dollars. Constantly. Creating and adding to your London expenses list in the notes section of your iPhone7s. Detailing every amount you spend each day. Learning to master the art of extreme frugality. Apart from treating yourself to a caffeine hit of a day, you learn how to spend as little money as possible. Stretching those pounds as far as they can go, girl. This is your unemployed reality.
But it’s working.
You’re surviving.
You can do this! (as your four-and-a-half-year-old nephew would say!)
Surprise. You can survive on very little money in this town. If you know how to cut back effectively. Not starve. There are ways to eat healthily and cheaply. I am actually astounded at how tasty pre-packaged meals at Tesco’s and Aldi are. Seasonal fruits and veggies are cheap at high road market stalls too. And better quality than the supermarkets. BOL vegan-style meals have become my specialty and saviour. Sicilian Pasta. Thai Coconut Vegetable. Mexican Bean. Sri Lankan Sambar. You can jazz these meals up with tuna, avocados, tomatoes, cucumber, hummus and chia seed, muesli or pumpkin seed crackers from Aldi. Delish and cheap as.
Mastering the art of extreme frugality is learning how to adult within your means when times are tough. Sometimes you will be skint. Other times you won’t. It’s about being wise with your moola. Before you have landed that dream job in your new location that will make it all worthwhile.
It’ll make you appreciate things when the going gets good again.
And the going will get good again.
You just have to ride out the tough times.
Adapt and embrace the frugal way.
“Courage, sacrifice, determination, commitment, toughness, heart, talent, guts. That’s what little girls are made of.” — Bethany Hamilton
Relocation is definitely not for the faint-hearted. Most people don’t do it because it’s too scary even to comprehend. An emotional rollercoaster of ups-and-downs. It means leaving family and friends behind. It means walking on the wilder side of life. It means stepping into the unknown. Outside of your comfort zone. It means being brave when you’re feeling anything but brave.
But.
Relocation can be a good thing. It pushes our boundaries. Broadens our horizons. Tests our resilience. Our endurance as humans. Gives those of us who are brave enough to do it, the chance to find what we are looking for. Make our own successes. Achieve our dreams. Hell, do something different. Have a different kind of life experience. Something to tell the grandkids, one day right? It doesn’t have to be a “forever experience.” But it will be a transformative experience on every level that I can assure you.
It’s about doing what’s right for you in this world.
Relocate your way. Or don’t relocate at all.
Whatever makes you happy.
