Finding entertainment and a new home in London

We have one week in London to find an apartment before I start work again on 5 June (this is where I'd put a frowny face if that was a thing I did). My firm arranged for us temporary accommodations and a real estate agent to find a more permanent abode. Outside of the two days we spent with our real estate agent, we made some tepid explorations of London.

We've been to Chinatown twice to scout restaurants. There is a Singaporean restaurant there, but sadly it is closed presently for some remodeling. Chinatown is lodged in the West End amidst many theaters and between Piccadilly Circus and Leicester Square, so it is very well-touristed, overrun in fact with people walking at a slow clip. It is actually a very "expensive" part of town, nearby a number of high end residential and retail districts, but it is so crowded, who would want to live there?

As Bobby is now quite an accomplished crawler, we took him to the Tate Modern, which has a huge open floor in its atrium, perfect for baby and dachshund athletic events. Well, its atrium is actually a giant room that formerly housed turbines for electricity generation. See, the Tate Modern is housed in a building originally used as a coal-fired power plant, now refurbished into a very popular modern art museum. Bobby mostly slept in his carrier while Christine and I looked at the art and laughed at the Chinese girls taking endless Instragram shots, each with a different pose, using the art purely as background.

Meanwhile, we found an acceptable apartment. Residential real estate conventions here are a bit different than in the U.S. We have to put in an offer and negotiate lease terms with the landlord. Fingers crossed it works out.

Bob and Dad out on the prowl for accommodations. This particular street, Green Lanes, had nothing but Turkish businesses on it; I'm not sure we really fit in. Bobby was trying to catch some sleep here -- we were driving around to apartments for several hours and kept waking him up in his car seat when we arrived at the next apartment. Poor kid was like, I don't care where we live; I just need a good nap, or I'll be pissed.

Checking out the rail lines outside the window of this old apartment building. Christine said no to this apartment because the bathroom had green tile and the kitchen had orange tile. Also, the kitchen was in a downstairs cave. You run into all kinds of weird places in an old city when real estate prices are sky high and the renters' budgets are below average.

At the temporary corporate apartment, Bob watches the washing machine work.

In Chinatown, one of us is having some Chinese tea, the other is excited to have some rice dough from Chinese pork buns.

We happened down a tawdry street in Soho, so Christine covered Bobby's eyes, lest he read the signs.

Just dominating the floor of the Tate Modern's Turbine Hall.

Motoring at the Tate Modern.