A new start for the new year

While I generally focus on the lighter side of things, especially when it comes to the professional, work hasn't been so cheery over the past six months. I encountered a number of pretty serious issues when it came to the company I'd chosen, so Nicolas and I have decided to make a clean break for the new year, in a stronger and more dynamic market where my skillset will be properly remunerated. So, after spending all but a few months abroad since June '08—I can hardly believe I'm writing this—guess who's moving back Stateside? Yes, we've gone home for the holidays, and this time it's to stay.

Bye bye, Brighton!

Moving is hard work for kitties. Our little monsters have been camped out with Nicolas's mom since our highly adventurous overnight trip to France in mid-December—a story in itself. They're both booked to fly with me to the US on Jan. 5.

We rather blindly leapt into this decision to move Stateside only to be horrified by our eye-opening discoveries of the rights of US citizens to bring their foreign spouses into the US (or rather, the lack thereof). You see, Nicolas can't follow me. Since he has no means of obtaining a non-tourist visa to wait out the first 90+ days in the US before initiating his green card application, he has the complete the full procedure from abroad. Read: the full 9-12+ month procedure. And, for the cherry on top, he cannot even enter the US to visit me during this time. This means that I'll be working with an American-style vacation schedule (what, maybe 10 days per year??) and I somehow have to find a way to squeeze in as many trips to France as possible just to see my husband in 2018. (TransAtlantic weekends, anyone?) 2018's not looking so shiny from this side of the new year.

For now we've been trying to make the most of our holidays. First, we powered our way across the Northeast US, where we hit up Boston, NYC, and the suburbs of Philly/NJ in all of a week's time.

Nicolas's first trip to Boston, complete with a wild turkey siting in Harvard Square and a trip down my old dormitory hall, 5W, which is now sporting an awesome new cat Lego mural!

Nicolas not only survived but thrived at his first Repak/Aloia family Christmas. He was even this year's champion of the Cousins' Campout Cards Against Humanity showdown.

NY round two: somehow Nicolas and managed two trips to NYC in just one week, but we didn't really photograph the first.

We're in the midst of a very hectic week or so in Paris before we say our final pre-green-card-application goodbyes, hoping it won't be too long until we can start planning our next visit. (I swear, if we ever get around to going on that honeymoon we'd planned, it will be more than well-deserved!) At least you can't say our life is boring. Although these days, we often wish it would be!

And as for where I'll land, there are a few exciting leads to follow up on during the first week of January, but for now I'll keep that up my sleeve. As we've wrapped up our lives Left of the Rabbit Hole, stay tuned for future adventures at my latest blog: An Expat Homecoming.

Happy New Year!

Loud and proud

June may be Pride Month, but the UK saves its biggest celebration for the start of August. And this year, the rainbow flags came out in full force to celebrate fifty years since the partial decriminalization of homosexuality in England and Wales. Pride began bright and early on Saturday morning, with grannies in their wheelchairs draped in flags out for their morning stroll (roll?) through town by 9am. (The fact that I too was convinced to be up that early, en route to my spin studio's 10am "Pride Ride," is still beyond me.) The Parade floats and drag queens were also out and about, mulling along the Hove Lawns awaiting the start of the big parade. The detour through the Lawns en route to my "Pride Ride" thrilled me, since we'd made the mistake to accept an invitation in London on the Saturday of Brighton's Pride, meaning this was about the closest I'd make it to most of this year's parade.

Snippets of Brighton's Pride 2017

The LGBT community first paraded in Brighton in 1973, though the Pride Parade didn't become an annual tradition until 1991, when it returned as a mostly political march. My how times have changed. Today, Brighton Pride a massive city-wide party, drawing crowds of 300,000, according to the BBC, and leaving the city looking like an abandoned war zone by 1 in the morning, when we returned from our day in the capitol.

You've got to credit to the party planners, who ensured that by 10 this morning, the city was sparkling (and not just from the tiny shards of broken bottles that couldn't be swept away). Having purchased Sunday Pride tickets, we hit the streets mid-afternoon to see what the Pride village party was all about. Answer: for the most part, one massive, afternoon, outdoor clubbing scene. Not exactly us. But you can't live in Brighton and never try Pride. So now we've been there, done that.

Next year I think we'll just catch the parade, admissions-free, and then wind our way down to the beach with some blankets and drinks. And how amazing to be able plan for next year! It's only been a year since I picked up our keys to our first flat in Brighton, during Pride weekend 2016, but after the uncertainty this past year has brought, it's an exquisite luxury to think about the sitting under the sunshine on the Brighton beach a year from now, and know that we can (probably) count on it. Well, except perhaps for the sun part. This is England, after all.

Further left of the rabbit hole

As of this week, our new home was officially "moved in" enough to bring in a cleaning woman. (I cannot say how much I love being grown up enough to have the income and priorities to employ someone else to keep my home sparkling.) Well, if the flat is now feeling like home, it seems to me to time to share my handy work/the object of my obsession over the past couple of months.

Last I'd checked in on our housing front, we were broken-heartedly packing our bags and bidding farewell to our home just left of Alice's rabbit hole.

Us at the mouth of Alice's rabbit hole, in our private gardens just outside our old home

Now, rather than simply making a left at the mouth of the tunnel and escaping the gardens to reach our front door, we've added another 5 blocks to the trek and lost the magical key to the gardens where the rabbit hole hides. Today, our private gardens are a mere strip of manicured flower beds protected by a sign that says No Dogs, rather than 5 acres of Wonderland under lock and key. But life's not all bad 5 blocks further left of the rabbit hole.

Without more ado, welcome to our anything-but-humble, eviction-landed-us-here, seafront flat (which yes, we share with a flatmate—no way we could afford this on our own, but no it's not that bad). No, this is not too bad at all.

Welcome in! Walk into our home (see top left photos), and open the door (bottom left). You'll see two hallways side by side to your left. Peering down the first one (bottom middle photo), you'll see the door into our flatmate's suite. Just beyond it, you can take a peek into our hallway (top right photos, and bottom right). But first, let's take a turn to the right and into our shared spaces.

Welcome to our living room, which we happen to share, though that's easy to forget with a roommate we hardly ever bump into! In the top left, you've got the view as you enter the room, and next to that, another view from the back of the room looking across to our couch and dining area. In the top right, you can see shots of our modern kitchen that opens up into the living room, as well as the bar corner with the latest incarnation of our bendy bookshelf. On the bottom left, there's a close up on our "coin apéro" (aperitif corner), where I tuck myself in to a quick breakfast before catching my 7:20am lift to work. In the bottom middle, a view of our fireplace, one of the few things reduced in grandeur compared to our previous home. (But when you're complaining about the side of your Edwardian fireplace, it's probably time to stop complaining.) And finally, in the bottom right, our gorgeous dining set has found its new home.

A close up on the Paris-themed French art from the "coin apéro" (aperitif corner) of our living room

And one more close-up this time to show off our dining corner. Although half of these decorations had hung in our previous kitchen and the other in our living room, I think they paired nicely in this iteration of chez Nicolas et Emilienne

Wander into our bedroom suite. Top left: just past the Brighton photo frame, you walk through the door to what delineates our private part of our flatshare. Top right: peek over your shoulder as you let the door slide shut behind you. Bottom left: continue down our private hallway. Bottom middle: turn your head to the right as you reach the end of our hallway to peer into our massive bathroom. Not only do we have a tub, but behind the bathroom door is nestled a shower stall, and even a bidet. We're that fancy now. Bottom right: enter into the lower level of our bedroom suite.

As your bedroom suite opens up, take a glance to your right (top left), to see what's become of our Alice in Wonderland themed guest room décor, now perched just along the convertible Murphy bed-desk that's suddenly serving us much more regularly (in its desk configuration) than it ever did when hidden off in a guest room way down the hall of our previous home. Top, second from left: as you've entered our bedroom suite, you can glance over our Murphy bed-desk (still ready to host guests!) and our library corner. (How I miss those shelves in our previous living room!) Top, second from right: as your climb the staircase, take a glance over your shoulder to look down over the lower level of our bedroom suite. I am completely enamoured with those massive windows that overlook our terrace (which can only be accessed through our flatmate's suite). And I am a huge fan of our massive lower level carpet, purchased to protect the landlord's carpeting from two overly playful kitties. And how classy is that armoire? Did I mention our flat came with zero closet space? Top & bottom right: From our upper-level balustrade, you get a great view across the lower level, excellent for staking our your prey. Bottom left: In our cozy upper level, we've still book-ended our bed with matching chairs from the dining set purposed as nightstands. Bottom middle: Just a nice view from above across the lower level, which generally serves as our private living room/office/guest room.

And in case you didn't notice our bedroom chandelier in the previous collage, let me dedicate an entire subsequent collage to it, because I am pretty damned proud of this thing. The Venetian mask chandelier is my own, original, one-off creation, a reincarnation of a very different chandelier that I accidentally smashed during our move...

Yes, believe it or not, this was the previous life of my Venetian mask chandelier, until it befell an unfortunate and unintended fate at my hands.

And, saved the best for last: the views from that expansive living room.

Yes, every morning I drag my butt out of bed for, and every evening I come home to these views. Is a #blessed too cliché here? Yeah, I know, I'm rubbing it in. But after our eviction on top of all this year's shit, we've earned it.

Day 2

That's right, yesterday was a big one: I finally ended my nearly half-year stretch of being a kept woman. Last week, a certain letter from the Home Office was warmly welcomed into our lives, and work papers were rapidly assembled. Now I've got my 9-5, and I certainly can't complain about the first twenty minutes of my daily commute.

The first twenty minutes of my commute, biking along the sea front and then waiting at the bus stop at Old Steine, just outside the Royal Pavilion

The next three and a half hours of commuting, on the other hand, I could do without. Let's just say that car ownership is very much in the works.

A Fringe-worthy performance or two

The Brighton Fringe: England's largest annual arts festival, and the reason that the Old Steine has been teeming with life for the past month, from pop-up bars to circus tents to cage dancers. With more than 970 events over the course of 4 weeks, it didn't seem right to only see one. A friend from circus class and I had gone to (what else?) a circus performance mid-May. Freshly returned from Italy, it was only right to make sure Michelle got a bit more of a proper introduction to Brighton before sending her back to the States. And with Brighton proudly strutting it's stuff for the final few days of the Fringe, the timing could hardly be better. In a half week, with a very complaisant Nicolas, we managed to squeeze in both the Bad Luck Cabaret and a Friday night performance of Circus'cision: the Ones that Made the Cut. As someone who's been studying circus for the past year, can I just saw, wow and wow. Also, a thank you to Nicolas, who sat with us in the front row and was singled out for a beating from a clown. (That's not the sort of stuff I learn in circus class.)

Snippets of Circus'cision 😉

We've seen better days

In all the hubbub of our first few months in Brighton, I never took the time to share our new home. I was planning to finally post some collages of our lovingly decorated home in the space between our wedding and the arrival of my UK visa. Little did I know how packed that space of time would become. Before I dive in to the latest chapter in the saga of our first year in Britain, let me show you the place we've loved calling home since last September.

You already saw glimpses of it in our wedding photos, but here is the street we've called home.

And the views to the sea from our front door.

Now, take a step inside. Welcome to the world's most glorious living room, just to your left as you walk in the front door. Notice how the ten-seater dining table is dwarfed under these ceilings. For the first time in our adult lives, last November's Thanksgiving, with 18 guests, didn't feel overcrowded. (Well, okay, maybe just a little.) But just check out all those shelves. So much storage space, we hardly knew what to do with it! (But we figured out fast.)

Wander down our delightful front hallway, whose walls are not quite parallel, and an image of the very modest bathroom (top right).

Off the front hallway, here's the master bedroom, with its high ceilings that never ceased to impress me. I love how the light from the Turkish lamp on my bedside dances up its walls.

Turn down the back hallway, past the bathroom and hallway closet, to reach the guest room and, finally, the kitchen.

We (okay, I) designed the Alice in Wonderland themed guest room/office in homage to the tunnel that may have inspired Alice's rabbit hole, right in our private gardens. The construction of the horizontal Murphy bed-desk, on the other hand, was a two-person effort and a real labor of love at that.

And at last, welcome to the deliciously retro-style kitchen, which opens to yet a third hallway/bike storage area. We had to buy a special tray to shuttle our dinners back and forth from this kitchen all the way to our living room.

Lucky you!, you might say. Oh, lucky indeed.

As you may remember, we had to plan our wedding in just 3 months' time since I lost my job and thus my right to live (with Nicolas) in the UK. We only moved to the UK last September when I landed a consulting gig, but after just 9 days on the job, the company let me go— they've since fired almost 50% of their staff, but it's rough to move to a new country for only 9 days of work!! Especially considering I'd left a stable job in Denmark, and my firing meant not only no salary, but no visa to live in the same country as my partner. (Hence the wedding bells.)

As luck would have it, I got a new job the week before our wedding— right near Brighton! Yay! After flying all over Europe and the US for job interviews, we were so happy to get the good news that we'd be staying in this town we love. I've signed the contract, but I need my spouse visa before I can begin working. To that end, the week after the wedding, we filled out a several hundred page application with all sorts of weirdly invasive questions about our relationship. No sooner had we finished filling out and assembling all the application (and paying immigration lawyers!), but we got a notice of eviction— for no reason!! The landlord has decided to repossess the property, likely so he can sell. That's right, the lovely home I just paraded before you, it's gone, now all in piles scattered across a new flat with overwhelmingly blank walls.

We faced the seemingly insurmountable task of finding a new home without having any written proof of my right to live in the UK, nor any payslips from 2017. (Nicolas's earnings are all in cash.) Who would ever rent to us?? Luckily, our realtors agreed to vouch for us if we stuck with them, but they only had a single flat available that was in our budget and would accept our cats— and this flat was uglier and more expensive than our actual home. Our realtors were also able to offer us (with only light begging) a bigger flat, if we "had an interested friend."

Along the waterfront, a few blocks closer to town center, this flat was tucked away behind a teensy private garden. With full sea views and ceilings, believe it or not, even higher than our previous flat, it has incredible potential. Plus, the two separate hallways leading to double bedrooms each with their own en suite make the ideal layout for flatshare among more mature renters who appreciate their own space.

A very hectic 24 hours ensued, but we found a nice person online who was also in a pinch, and was willing to pretend to be our long-time friend looking to move in with us. (This new place is pretty fabulous, actually, if you get past the idea of moving into a flatshare during the first month of marriage.)

We're now in the process of disassembling out lives and rebuilding them a few blocks away. It seems like if it's not one thing, it's another. And since 2017 seems to be going this way for us, we got another surprise: our electricity and gas company, who we contacted to close up our account, discovered that they completely forgot to charge us the electricity-half of our electricity-and-gas bills for the past year, so now we've got an extra year of electricity bills thrown at us! It seems we really can't get a break.

There is still a slight chance that I won't be able to get my passport back from the UK Home Office (the people processing my UK spouse visa application), so I may end up missing my own wedding, and skyping it in... but Nicolas will be there for sure. It will actually be the first time he even meets my extended family. I'm hoping I get to introduce him in person!

Happy one month anniversary to us.

Our sunset on the beach

Our rings are carefully tucked away, my make-up and hair are washed clean, and my family and I are all happily crashing at home. We made it! The whole evening just went from good to better. My biggest regret is that we didn't pay our photographer to stay and capture the whole extravaganza! After our ceremony, the guests were treated to a bi-lingual after-hours guided tour of the Royal Pavilion while Nicolas and I had our newlyweds photo shoot, whose highlight was unquestionably the moment a little girl came up to me to ask if I was a real princess, since I'd just emerged from a palace wearing a Disney princess gown and a tiara. *Dying just thinking about it. *

Inside the Royal Pavilion (mostly the Music Room)

Touring the Royal Pavilion grounds (and meeting another little princess)

We met our guests in the Music Room, where we ran through a few family shots before taking it outside.

Family of the bride

Family of the groom

Nicolas and I finally got our grand bubble entrance as the full wedding party, all of those who'd been in the ceremony and those who'd live-streamed it from the bar next door, welcomed the newlyweds out of the Royal Pavilion. It turns out that bubbles are even cuter and much less corny than I'd feared.

Introducing, ladies and gentlemen, your newlyweds!

Next came the photographer's to-do list:

Group shot: check

Ladies of MIT: check

Sorority sisters: check

All the beauties rocking English hair accessories: check

Before I knew it, I was ready to get my my fur on for a stroll through town. Esin guided most of our guests to our waterfront reception using our custom-made lantern designed from our unused Burning the Clocks kit. Who'd have imagined this fate for our lantern kit when we ran out of time for crafting last December? Tagging along a few minutes later (dresses don't bustle themselves!), we enjoyed a barrage of compliments and congratulations as we walked through the Lanes and across the waterfront.

A celebratory stroll through the Lanes and across the waterfront to our reception

And those awful clouds that darkened the backdrop of the Royal Pavilion? They cleared just in time for us and all our guests to bask in a glorious sunset as the evening festivities began.

A quick shot in front of Brighton's iconic West Pier, just before slipping into Alfresco, our reception venue

Check out that sunset in the works! Our photographer had warned me not to hold my breath for this. Ha!

The table of honor, awaiting us

But before we took those sunset snaps, I enjoyed one of my best wedding decisions: the second dress. Slipping out of the gorgeous but lung-defying corseted Ian Stuart gown just in time to start eating and dancing absolutely made my night. In a 50's inspired tea-length lace dress, I breathed deeply for the first time in hours, and skipped my way back onto our pebble beaches for those last few professional photos. (Did I mention I also wore flats? Count that in as the other best decision of the day.)

And there you have it, our sunset on the beach. Brighton did us proud.

Then came the food, the dancing, and the toasts. And, unlike what everyone told us, we definitely got the chance to eat, and eat well. There was just so much fabulous food to choose from. I wouldn't hesitate to recommend Alfresco for anyone looking for a waterfront wedding reception in Brighton.

Our fathers both charmed with their lovely toasts, but it was Nicolas's eldest sister's family who stole the show with their personalized rendition of the YMCA song, set to our initials, NKER. And with that, the dance floor was open. We threw our months of dance lessons to the wind with our first dance to Hall and Oates's You Make My Dreams Come True, which our families kindly agreed to storm us on, half way through. Soon enough, the dance floor was packed and the night was flying. The most brilliant moment was Nicolas and my impromptu pole dance, video of which I have yet to acquire after more than a little asking around. (I haven't given up yet.)

What a party! 💖 💞

As cliché as it sounds, there just wasn't enough time to greet to all our guests. I found myself hugging people and saying my farewells before I'd hardly had a chance to thank them for even showing up! But one thing's for sure: neither Nicolas nor I forgot to enjoy our wedding. What a fabulous, pull-out-the-stops way to celebrate our first evening as husband and wife.

We do!

The doorbell rang. Our photographer, Jacqui, had arrived. Nicolas was back from work and was battling with his necktie. (Yes, my wonderful husband found a way to work on our wedding day in between the family breakfast and our 2:30 photography appointment.) Wasn't it about time to start feeling nervous or emotional or something beyond slightly suffocated by my corset? I smiled for the camera, and felt a smidgen disappointed that the corset couldn't suck in my waist a bit more. I guess everyone imagines a Cinderella-esque transformation after the Fairy Godmothers, aka the professional hair and make-up team, work their magic. So there is a moment of deflation upon discovering that the reflection peering back from the mirror is just a shinier version of oneself, imperfections and all.

A shinier version of me, ready and waiting to show off to my almost-husband

Me and my little princess, waiting for our Prince Charming to emerge

Was I right about my mom having a way with flowers or what?

All dolled up

Posing with the proud parents

I remember the relief, there was certainly that emotion. It was high time to be done obsessing over this day. And about time get my hands on a wedding certificate and all the associated rights. There was also the calm joy, muted by all the other events that led us here so quickly, but the joy nonetheless to be making Nicolas my husband. Although we'd been living together for years, and we share a home, cats, and a joint bank account, there's still something so affirming about officially committing to a lifetime together. Still, I thought I'd feel, I don't know, something more.

I just love this picture. I'm not sure my husband will ever learn to tie a tie.

The "Big Reveal" was entertaining enough, especially since there wasn't much to surprise Nicolas as I'd already showed him photos of my dress, never expecting that he'd respond by telling me he'd rather save it for the wedding day. Mr. No-Proposal-My-Fiancee-Can-Find-Her-Own-Ring suddenly believed in tradition? Still, we played along. Geraldine covered Nicolas's eyes as she guided him to me in the living room.

Our "Big Reveal"

And then we had the photos, countless snaps as we toured our private gardens with our own secret tunnel to the sea, our witnesses by our sides. Yes, my dear reader, cue the photo dump.

Yes, that's an Easter Bunny! This was Easter weekend, after all.

So. Brighton.

And suddenly, it was time to call a taxi. The Royal Pavilion awaited!

Taxi'ing to our wedding

I was still entertained by how we'd managed to squeeze some many fancy-looking people into one plain taxi as I emerged into the throngs of wedding guests mulling about outside the Royal Pavilion. They had come from all over to be here for us! And they all looked so happy! Yep, this was really it.

Our wedding programs, ready to be handed out

We peeled ourselves away to go confirm our details with the registrar, and then we barely had time to launch a live stream video with Esin's help before lining up the processional.

Our wedding procession, presented chronologically, clockwise from top left corner

The ceremony didn't go off without a hitch— it seems Nicolas's parents didn't quite get the concept of walking a child down the aisle, and our officiant certainly could not wrap her head around our French names. But all in all, for a simple civil ceremony, it was surprisingly lovely. I was particularly pleased that we said our vows in both English and French, as it meant a lot to me that we each made such big commitments in both our native tongues. But I was also glad we just stuck to the legal vows. I felt no compulsion to make this ceremony long and sappy. It was a joyous little moment, not the time for over-sentimentality (apart from an instant when my parents "gave me away"), but a time to revel in our fantastic fortunes to have found our best friends and life partners in each other.

We put a ring on it!

For once, I felt surprisingly present in the moment, and very happy to be there. And I couldn't help notice Nicolas, my emotional blank canvas of a husband, getting a little teary-eyed, which made the moment that much more touching.

Showing off my new ring in between signing our marriage certificates

Sing along now: We-are-family! 

Take that, world! Marriage certificate in hand, I can stay in the same country as Nicolas and take my new job too!

After a brief interruption right at the end of the ceremony when a staffer came in to discuss a missing tour guide, we danced our way out to the sounds of The Darkness's I Believe in a Thing Called Love. In that moment, I like to think the whole room believed too.

♫ I believe in a thing called love... ♫