Richmond Park

As promised, here is the newest entry describing another “first” and, also, general animal confusion.

Putney Along the Thames

But first, let me tell you a bit more about where I am. Like where I am right now. Like RIGHT now. Often, I go into Putney to write these blogs for the very simple reason that I very much dislike being alone in my room for long. Granted, that rarely happens. There is always someplace to go, some shopping to do, someone to visit, and of course some running to do. I am constantly busy and classes haven't even begun! But in those rare moments of down time I walk to Putney, the town I've mentioned many times, just a quick two miles away. Putney is mainly residential but there are two or three “main roads”, the biggest of which runs perpendicular to the other two and will send you straight into London, basically, if you were to take it far enough north. While you can't do much in the way of clothes shopping here you can, however, buy all the essentials. They have all the most common stores like Sainsbury's for groceries, Boots for pharmaceuticals and drug store items, Vodafone and Orange for all your mobile phone needs, and of course the usual fast food and cafe eateries....among other things. The sidewalks can be quite crowded during the days but less packed than sardined pedestrains in Central London. Like most of London, Putney is an old town with old brick and stone buildings. It had two connections to the tube and two train stops for the line that terminates at Waterloo station. 

A Random Italian Restaurant You'll Pass on Your Way to the Tube

It's here in Putney, like I said, that I most often come to write. You can find me at the corner of Putney Hill Road and Montserrat Road in a front window seat of Cafe Nero, a chain coffee place much like Starbucks. Normally, I'd prefer a quieter cafe, a local place hidden down a narrow side street, but those don't have wireless connections. Oddly enough, it's harder to connect to the wireless internet in London than I would've thought prior to coming here. Regardless, from my spot in the window seat at a tiny high-topped table I can both write and people watch. 

Literally THIS Cafe Nero, I'll be the one in the Window on the Left in this Picture View

The thing that I admire most is how those giant double-decker buses navigate these miniature streets while bikes crowd the traffic from every side and ridiculous tourists run out into oncoming traffic. From here I have yet to witness a collision. Farther up the road, however, back towards school, I did see the aftermath of a reckless motorcycle driver. They're known for weaving between cars and that morning one's hurried maneuverability didn't quite pay off. The bike was smashed to bits in the road and the driver of the car that hit it was in a neck brace, still strapped in the car. They had to cut off traffic on that road, the main road through Roehampton, during London's rush hour. If you thought Cleveland was bad.....

I've Been Told the Thames in Putney is Where They Hold the Famous Cambridge/Oxford Rowing Competition

Thankfully, the is a flip side to the chaos of London. Some time ago some genius English ruler thought to install/maintain a slew of public nature reserves across London and incidentally put the largest of these right next to my campus. Richmond Park existed before the school despite the fact that Roehampton is one of the oldest schools in London. It was once a manor house, built by a gent of some considerable wealth, to overlook the park, intentionally facing the opposite way away from London's skyline. After its conversion into a school, developed with the intention to be one of the first universities to admit female students, no less, dorms and additional buildings were constructed, each of which face the park as well. My room, today, overlooks the park from afar. 

Lovely, Lovely....

Finally, after days of anticipation, I made the 10 minute jog to the main entrance of Richmond Park with the intention to explore its grounds on foot. This first excursion took place close to dusk which initially left me fearful. Being the intelligent girl I am, I am ingrained with a dislike of new-place-exploration in the dark. However, I wanted to run and with luck I figured I might make it out again before complete sunset. 

These Shots Barely Do Justice to the Size of this Park

Alas, I did not. But I was happily surprised by several things all at once. First of all, my immediate reaction upon entering this park was awe and disbeleif. Again, I am living in one of the biggest, most populated cities in the world. Yet there before me was an open expanse of nature as far as I could see. Miniature rolling hills, trees, rivers, and paths going off in every direction. A runner's paradise. Not wanting to get lost in the dark, though, I took the paved, straight path, pointed toward the center of the park, I guessed. This paved path ran parallel to the road that also passes through the park. I was pleasantly surprised by an absence of traffic, though, as the gates close at dusk and only bikers and people on foot can enter. So the park was intensely quiet.

The White Cow Behind King's College Cambridge

Quiet until I hear an astoundingly loud 'mooing' off in the distance. There I was, simply admiring the scenery and the fact that both gravel and grass paths weaved across the hills and fields and off into the far away distance when all of a sudden I'm disrupted by what I assumed must be a cow. A cow, alone, in a public park, sounded beyond suspect. However, it's not unknown. I'd experienced free-range cows in Cambridge. Literally free-range. A white one often trespassed across the boundaries established by the university to keep the great unwashed public out, away from the brilliance of its students. Cows, on the other hand, could pass this barrier willingly and without retribution, apparently, because no one bothered to send it on its way. It lounged directly behind King's College Chapel, along the Backs (as they called the 'Backs' of the colleges), most days, lazily soaking in the sounds of the chapel choirs, I'd bet.

So while I was running, minding my own business, a suspicious cow-like moo reached me. Imagine, then, my surprise to come nearly face to face with an entirely different beast once I crested the hill. At first glance I thought it was a moose, sure to attack. Its giant size lended to a most threatening appearance. But upon further inspection, if not speedy inspection, its true identity was revealed: a male deer, a buck with antlers the size of tree limbs. Praying it saw me as less of a threat than I saw it, I hurried past just as it called out in its cow-moo-voice again. At that point, seemingly out of harms way with the animal remaining quite still behind me, I relaxed....and noticed the entire herd of deer just beyond that single male. I'd wager that buck was watching over the herd. They were about 30-50 in number; it's hard to be too accurate with a population count because the deer blended so effortlessly with the dry grasses, and then they stay perfectly still.

Lots and Lots and Lots of Deer, Everywhere.

Since my first run in Richmond Park I've returned to it almost daily. Again, I hope to get photos up soon. One of these days I need to force myself to get out and about and just snap away at everything.

Cheers!

First "Firsts"

I'm now able to introduce my friend, the one I talk so much about, because he is now an avid reader of mine ;) Though I believe he was amused by the “Red Pants” title, it seems more appropriate to use his name. So without further ado, allow me to introduce Mr. Jeppe Fensholt!! It's because of this guy that I have had several “firsts” this week, and anyone who knows me is well aware I am a collector, if you will, of new experiences. I really, really love trying new things. Luckily for me a giant part of moving to a new country is navigating through first-time-experiences. Heck, for the first few days/weeks/months, even, almost everything is new. While many of these “newnesses” can be challenging and irritating many more are entertaining and exciting.

On day 1 of our Roehampton Uni experience we overcame a few minor language “barriers”. Some things that exist in Norway don't exist in the US, and vise versa, and in the case of Norwegian to English the literal translation of a word doesn't always make sense, which is easy enough to imagine when the thing being described doesn't exist in any English speaking country. The first of these we came across in conversation is a food product that they call KNÄCKEBRÖD, or “Snap Bread”. It's not like a cracker and it's not like bread. It's more like a wholegrain wafer about the size of a coaster, kind of a darkish brownish color, harder than burnt toast but not crunchy. See, there's really nothing quite like it! So imagine trying to explain the item in a language that isn't your first. Now, don't get me wrong, all the international students speak English perfectly and they amaze me day after day. Since no native English speaker is forced into learning, like REALLY learning, a second language the people that DO learn one fluently, like all my friends here have done, impress me to no end. I mean, they can read, write, and speak English just as well as anyone who was raised on it. Seriously, just amazingly impressive.

So anyway, back to the “snap bread”. Since that first day the term has morphed into a commonly used phrase, referenced whenever we come upon a similarly unfamiliar object. But it wasn't until our Ikea adventure that I finally understood what the thing really is. Ikea, being a Swedish chain, sells this food item and so, of course, Jeppe had to buy some and, being the wonderful friend he is, let me try it. The most common way to eat a “snap bread” wafer, so I've been told, is to top it with cream cheese and then just dig in. But there's yet another twist to my story: Their cream cheese comes in a tube, like a toothpaste tube. And it's NOT NOT NOT like regular cream cheese like we're used to in America, either. We are familiar with the fruity flavored cream cheeses, like the Philidelphia Strawberry flavor. BUT in Norway and England and Sweden and the rest, their cream cheese is on the saltier side of the palate menu than ours. I think Americans generally cater to a sweet tooth, instead. So thisless-sweet version of cream cheese, this tubed cream cheese of theirs, has MEAT in it!!! So when Jeppe whipped out this stack of snap bread wafers and a tube of ham-chuncked cream cheese I was incredibly skeptical. But, certain he wouldn't steer me wrong, I trusted him with this concoction of unusual food stuff and, lo and behold, I actually really, really liked the combination. Who woulda thunk? So that was a climactic first-time-experience, to say the least. And yeah...there's absolutely NOTHING like it in the US. Either that or I'm just entirely ignorant of it, which is 100% possible.

Plus

 Equals

 

 

My second Jeppe-induced first-time-experience was another bit of foodie education. In Europe people gorge themselves on kebabs instead of Taco Bell/McDonalds/late night fast food after an evening out. Europeans are WAY into Indian food so Open Late kebab places are incredibly common. Needless to say when my dear Jeppe discovered I'd never tasted the wonderment of a real kebab he insisted I try one. These are certainly less fishy-sounding than hammed-cheese in a tube so I was a willing participant again, particularly after the first ultra-questionable food experience went so surprisingly well.

We found a legit kebab place in Putney, the biggest shopping area near the school, run by two Egyptian men. The place was empty minus the two of them but the place was cheery enough. It was brightly lit and had peachy orange walls. The two men spoke very broken English but they were very friendly, so much so that they asked if Jeppe and I were married! Frankly, I didn't think we gave off that vibe at all but I said as a means of clarification, “No, we've only known each other a week.” But apparently these men thought that meant, instead, that we are engaged and they couldn't be told otherwise; it just wasn't sinking in for some reason. 

They also told us all about Egypt and Cairo and how you can use camels, the animal not the cigarette, as currency. 

One camel is worth about £7,000, so they say. In fact, you can even purchase wives using camels as a fair trade. They guessed I would be worth about 100+ camels, which means about £7,000,000!!! Not too bad, not too bad. But that's beside the point because in addition to this extremely interesting conversation we also ate kebabs, I for the first time. Again, Jeppe was quite right. Amazingly good. Lamb with lettuce and cabbage and tomato and onions mixed with a few kinds of sauces all wrapped in a flat bread. Delicious, especially since it's served hot off the cooker on chilly nights.

Next time I'll tell y'all about another “first” in which I mistake a large deer for a cow.

Cheers.

Freshers Adventures

The week before classes begin is dedicated to the freshmen and any other new arrivals on campus, including international and/or postgraduate students. This is most definitely not orientation week; those semi-meaningless activities have come and gone. No, this is Freshers Week and all over again I feel much like, well, a freshman. 99% of my friends here are, in fact, incoming freshman because, let's be honest, freshman are more than eager to have fun. Many times I forget that this is their first time out on their own, so to speak though I'm perfectly aware I'm both the oldest in the group and the only American. The majory of us, meaning my friends and I, live on the same campus. Roehampton is split in three parts and we are on the southern-most of the three, Whitelands campus. Unfortunately I haven't taken photos yet but this week, I suspect, I'll have time to start taking some pics of the campus and of the surrounding areas. That way, in the future, you can imagine the scenery whenever I mention these location. Anyway, like I said, I am not only the oldest in the group with more experience than most people my age at switching schools and starting over at new colleges, but I am the only American amongst my friends.

It was only two days ago, Sunday, the day I last posted, any of the British students arrived. So until then my group was entirely Norwegian plus me. I know I said the first friend I made, the guy wearing Red Pants at the airport, turned out to be my closest friend. Well, that remains true a week later and so far we've really bonded over these days of shared experiences.

Yesterday marked our second day of home-shopping adventures. He and I and another of our group made a seven hour journey to Ikea, the Swedish homes store, packed to bursting with absolutely any household item any person could possibly want. 

I swear on my life it was the biggest store I have ever seen. And that, dear readers, IS saying something considering I am an American and from the land of all things huge. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Half the fun of any adventure is the journey, no?

After a frightful morning of dealing with banks and international transactions, our trio hurried off campus around noon with the hope of meeting up with my friend's mom, who was in town with a group of friends, herself. (By the way, I'm intentionally not mentioning my friends' names because they don't know I'm writing about them. They're all perfectly good sports, a cheerier group than most, I'd say, but just to be kind.....) We are practically masters of “getting into London Central” already; just hop on the #85 bus which speeds you away toward the train station, Barnes Station, which is where you, duh!, ride the train until it terminates at Waterloo Station just west of Central London. There are several tube lines connecting from the station and, with the intention of meeting His mom, rode the Central/District Line to Glouchester (pronounced GLAW-ster) Road, which happens to be the same station I would exit the tube when I “lived” in London two years ago. This exit is in Kensington, one of the nicest, wealthiest parts of London (which is saying something considering some of the wealthiest people in the whole world live in London). It's also known as the White City because of all the white buildings with their white pillars and white marble stairs and ornamentations. 

Anyway, though we missed His mom (she had to catch her plane back to Norway) we stopped at her hotel to pick up a care package she left behind. I've been in a few hotels in London and each one is so unbelievably, unimaginably nice I can't even begin to fathom who could stay there. No human being is clean enough to walk through these places, each of which is spotless and shining and perfect in every way, like a museum or a Grecian temple. I suppose a proper British couple, clad in a mink coat and fitted three piece suit respectively, looking appropriately snobbish and haughty, might fit the profile. But three students bumming around London in jeans and carrying big shopping bags? Certainly not. Luckily, the concierge staff were entirely friendly and even gave us faster direction to our destination, in addition to His care package.

Our trio stumbled back onto the tube's Bakerloo Line, headed north into a section of London I had never seen before. Which was just as well because it was certainly nothing much to look at. The further you get from the center of London the poorer the neighborhoods become. Our stop was, thankfully, next to a free shuttle to the Ikea store, specifically. Initially I found that incredibly odd, that a single store would offer its own shuttle right from the tube. Then I realized, upon arrival, why, indeed, they have their own shuttle. This store, like I said, the the most gigantic thing, nothing like it. I was told, by my friends, it's very popular in Europe because they offer so much STUFF and it's all dirt cheap. Example: I got a frying pan for £1.00, which translates to $1.60-ish. Heck, even if it only lasts the year while I'm at school I'm satisfied. The other surprising thing about this store is that to get to the “marketplace” you must pass through the “showroom”; a right of passage system, apparently. In the show room, as the name suggests, they show off all their crap and you're not allowed to touch it. You have to write down #'s for any specific item you want and then re-find it again once you've passed into the “marketplace”. I managed to find every household item I had left on my shopping list for a mere £12. Win.

Well, if you think it's a long journey to the complete opposite side of London, try making the same trip back at the end of the day, 6 hours later, carrying a load of shopping bags. On the tube. Switching between lines. It's fair to say everyone was completely exhausted by the time we alighted at Putney station, the closest to Roehampton, about 2 miles away. One last bus ride and, viola. Home again, home again. Barely.

 

And then I went running. Yes, yes I did. In the dark. In a still strange city. Smart? Probably not.

The Learning Curve

Today I experimented with a coffee press.

This is a coffee press. Notice the Pressing Action.

You put the grounds in the bottom of one tube and push water through them using a plunger-type device. It ought to be simple but I managed to screw it up the first time despite the fact I was reading the instructions simultaneously. Go figure. I'm feeling more and more like the typical “dumb American” when I make stupid mistakes like this. Luckily, no one was around to witness my mishap. Plus, I managed to keep all the liquids contained without spilling any on myself or anything else. I just got a clump of coffee grounds floating in a cup of boiling water, thus demonstrating why proper filter placement is critical for successful coffee brewing.

On try #2, however, the coffee press lived up to it 5-star rating and positive reviews. And it turned out to be 20 times faster than waiting for an entire coffee pot to heat up...and with the “Pressing Action” you get a rich flavor characteristic of a yummy, dark espresso shot. Add some “British Vanilla Flavored Milk” from ASDA (our equivalent of Wal Mart. Classy!) and VIOLA! Instant vanilla latte! 

Today I also re-learned to look both ways when crossing the street.

Thankfully, the Brits cater to idiot tourists and put this at every intersection:

Or this, depending on the direction you're headed. Duh!

 

This is because the British drive on the wrong side of the road. Now everyone's making bets as to who will get run over by a double-decker first! 

Once you're in London most Americans should expect to stand out like a sore thumb. Thankfully, I know my way around well enough that I fit right in! I can fly around London's transport systems like a seasoned pro and have so far, even in just a few days, had a handful of people asking ME for directions. My friends and I have been into Central London a few times already and when we are I'm automatically put in charge, being the only one among us experienced enough with London life to know how to navigate around the city. 

Try figuring THAT out on your own! Actually, I love taking the tube. It's great for people watching. As you can imagine you get quite a variety of individuals riding along side you. Businessmen with briefcases and shiny black shoes to the weirdos in stained t-shirts and short shorts hauling a ripped backpack, soaked from the rain outside. Plus, you can always tell the newbie riders from the seasoned ones. Here's a hint: the newbs cling to the rails and flop around when the train starts up and moves around the corners. Basically, they cling on for dear life and then stumble out, looking self-conscious and unsure whether or not they're at the correct stop.

I've already revisited the big attractions in London; Big Ben, The London Eye, and Westminster, to name a few. Once I have a chance to go out on my own I'll cover ground I haven't in the past and begin my photo collection. So far I only have pics of my new room:

This is a bathroom (above).

My View

I look out over the Whitelands College "quad", if you will, instead of out over the street on the opposite side of the building. This is a good thing because that means I actually have a NICE view, and in the distance is the golf course, which backs up to Richmond Park, the biggest park in London. Which is actually saying something. Because the parks here are HUGE even though they're in the center of one of the biggest cities in the world. 

And now I'm basically up-to-date on everything I've been doing, since no one wants to hear about the intricacies of my social life ;)

And That Was My First Day in London

Today, Sunday the 18^th of September, marks the 5^th day of my life in London. LONDON, baby!!!

They've kept us so busy I haven’t had time to do any necessary paperwork, let alone blog. But I’m happy for that. They, meaning the Roehampton Student Union people, have done and excellent job of preventing seclusion. Clearly they know students and their/our tendency to keep to ourselves unless forced to do otherwise. Especially now with the internet it's so easy to cling to friends from home instead of stepping out and making new friends. Luckily enough, one of the very first people I talked to after arrival onto campus turned out to be my closest friend (if you can call him a close friend after knowing each other for so short a time). But I'm getting far ahead of myself. Let me start from the beginning.

My prior post, though uploaded only moments before this, was written days ago while I was still on US soil. In New Jersey to be exact. I mentioned the number of young girls on the same flight as me and this point became of particular interest after landing. My plane arrived at Heathrow earlier than expected. Favorable conditions and all that. I'd spent that last 7-ish hours next to an elderly British couple, a pair who kept to themselves and spoke very little to me, quite unlike the women on the Cleveland-New Jersey flight. We disembarked at Terminal 4, I already sweating under the weight of my two carry-ons. I hadn't made it 20 feet before I wished, after a sleepless night, that i''d packed nothing at all. More than one I was tempted to abandon everything I had on me. The blessed arrival of a push cart made my life easier, particularly when I was hauling two additional duffle bags. Surprisingly, I had to take the tube between Terminals, from 4 to 3. 

The Tube

This required me to abandon my push cart and haul my luggage using sheer brute strength. What a joke. If it wasn't for a good Samaritan, an American man in a pink polo, who hoisted a single bag as if it weighed nothing, I never would have made it beyond the train platform. After that fiasco I arrived at terminal 3 only to discover our Roehampton meet-up group was nowhere to be found. Thankfully I'd experienced this same “abandonment”, if you will, when I arrived in London for Cambridge, and new just to wait and be patient. As it turns out, those same girls I'd seen waiting for the plane in NJ were waiting around the terminal now. Before long we'd all gathered together, realizing we were all headed toward Roehampton. I, being the only London-seasoned traveler in the group, was immediate labeled “leader and spokesperson”.

At long last, about an hour later, our Roehampton Uni (RU) coordinator met us and announced we'd remain in the terminal until more students arrived. After an hour or two 20 or so disheveled travelers, over encumbered by luggage, congregated in Terminal 3. Me, still “spokesman”, did my fair share of speaking about the nature of London, etc. It was then that I set eyes on my soon-to-be “best friend” at RU. He had also arrived at Terminal 3, the most obvious among us in bright red pants and perfectly ruffled blond hair. At a glance I assumed he must be french and freshly tanned from being near the Mediterranean. 

These Are Not HIS Pants. Just FYI. But They LOOKED Like This.

The bus took us to RU in about 30 minutes and I had my first views of Putney and the outskirts of central London. The traditional brick and stone homes all clustered together, with their tiny front yards, brought me straight back to my summer at Cambridge and I new then I wasn't going to experience a moment of homesickness because London is where I'm happiest and most at home.

At RU they split us up, the newly arriving International students, sending us away in groups to each of our respective campuses where we would spend the rest of the day unpacking and settling in. It was on this bus ride to Whitelands campus, the Postgraduate/Sciences/Psychology campus, that I had my first exchange with Red Pants boy. He sat next to me on the mini bus and spoke first. I couldn't catch his name but I was informed (stupid American that I am) that he is not, in fact, French but actually is Norwegian. Instead of my 7 hrs, he'd only spent 2 hrs on a plane to get here. And not only are flights between European nations cheaper than they are from the US, they're also cheapEST for Norwegians because their money is worth more than almost every other currency in the WORLD. Nice for them.

I was so jet lagged and physically exhausted that I barely had time to unpack anything before collapsing on my bed, sweaty from hauling luggage on an uncharacteristically warm British day.

And that was my first day in London.

3, 2, 1, Takeoff

I didn't realize the Newark-Liberty Intl airport was so close to NYC. That view from the air as we cruised past was the first I'd seen The Big Apple. I would've taken a photo but digging my camera out of my overstuffed bag would have been near impossible. That city skyline, compared to Cleveland's, is gigantic. Cleveland is just an ink spot in comparison. And then there's London. Much bigger by far than NYC. So big I can't hope to see all of it in a single lifetime, let alone in one year at school. I could spend every day walking the streets of London, morning and night, and never cover its whole expanse.

I was lucky enough to sit next to two friendly moms from Bay Village on that first flight, a pair who, themselves, were off to London, ready to shop and hit the town! The one, Debbie, was the bubbly blond who told me all about Las Vegas and the best shows to see, describing in detail some of the live nude scenes that popped up to surprise her. Her traveling companion, Kathy, was the quieter, well-traveled mom, who just raved about London. Naturally, both were jealous to discover I was moving there. I suspect this will be the first of many interesting introductions during the course of the year.

I have about two hours to kill between flights so I'm making all the necessary domestic Last Calls. No more cell phone for me after this, as hard as it will be to give up texting. That, even more so than phone calls, is what I will miss. Texting comes in third on the list of “US Things I Will Miss Most” after Family and Friends. The ability to communicate with people while “on the go” has become quite the addiction. Thank god for skype, email, facebook, and blogs. 

Here's My View of a Full Moon Outside the Airport in NJ

I'd like to thank everyone for the outpouring of well-wishes today. Even now as I stare onto the concourse at the flying boat, wondering how anything shaped like THAT can FLY, I'm receiving text messages and FB posts from all you guys, my lovely friends. I wish I could pack you all into my carry-ons and bring you with me. But as it is, I'm hauling luggage that weighs at least 1.5 times my own weight. I had to prioritize and shoes won out this time. Notice below the number of shoes I THOUGHT I could take:

Didn't happen... I have to severely downsize and then pack and repack everything to meet the weight limit. However, also notice the lovely black and pink color scheme that exists within my shoe collection. How nice would that have looked in my London apartment?

Mountains of STUFF!!!

I was lucky enough to have one last hoorah in the states before I packed up and headed out. I actually drove to Michigan two days before my flight to go to a concert that wouldn't be in Cleveland until tonight, Tuesday, the night I fly out. Go figure. And I almost couldn't go, anyway, because three different people backed out of going with me. Luckily my dad found me a new friend, and just in time, who was willing to drop everything and drive to Michigan with me to see Blink 182. If you've ever been to Blossom Music Center the Michigan venue looks very similar, minus the fact that the walk through the park itself to get to the stage is like walking the paths of a zoo, minus the animals. It's very manicured with walled paths and tall trees, dotted with food stands instead of wildlife cages. The place was stuffed to bursting and each one of those people packing the place up was going wild, dancing and singing along. My friend and I, by mere fortune alone, was handed two tickets for the front row. Meaning we got $250 seats for free! Up close and personal is the ONLY way to see a rock concert. Especially when the drummer does his solos on a flying platform that floats out over the audience's heads. We looked straight up and he was almost within reach. If only I'd been given the gift of height I could've grabbed on an swung out over the crowd too!

Close Enough to Get Frickin' AWESOME Pics!

Now, two days later, I'm in New Jersey.

There seems to be an unevenly distributed population boarding this flight, meaning an unusual majority of us are young females. I'd say about 50% of our small crowd at this gate fit that description. Apparently London is the place to be for college-aged youngsters. Maybe I'll get lucky and sit next to one of them on the flight instead of the man next to me right now who can't chew with his mouth closed to save his life.

The next time I write I will be in LONDON!!!

Au revoir!

All That Prep Work Finally Paid Off

SO, my dear readers, I’m back earlier than anticipated. What can I say? I live with a constant itch to write!

Now, at long last, it is a mere 8 days until my international relocation. I’ll leave Cleveland Hopkins >> Newark, NJ airport >> London Heathrow, arriving at a bright and early 7:30-ish AM the following day. Yep, I’ll be living life 5 Hours ahead of you guys…I’ll exist in the FUTURE!! ;-)

A lot of people, ok EVERYONE, asks me at least one of three questions in response to my “moving abroad desire”. They ask “Are you coming back?” or “Aren’t your parents going to mind?” or even “Aren’t you scared?” In response I answer in sequence: No, No, and emphatically No. But allow me to elaborate:

First, I am not planning on coming back. I didn’t buy a round trip ticket because I WANT to stay there. For those of you familiar with my bad habit of school-hopping, I can assure you I won’t be hopping back across the Atlantic if for no other reason than the cost. That doesn’t take into account the fact I’ve spent the last year and a half prepping for this, or that I’ve wanted to live in England since I was mindful enough to even HAVE ambitions, or that I’ve ALREADY lived in both Cambridge and London and loved every single moment of it and had not an ounce of homesickness. I already have friends in Europe and to me there’s no place more beautiful than England. Say what you will about the weather, but I’m from Cleveland, Ohio. If I’m not used to days of endless rain no one is.

Second, my parents do not mind. They have both been entirely supportive of each subsequent school transition.  By now (I think, at least) they have faith in my ability to survive on my own and make intelligent choices. I may be small but I’m tough, resilient and smarter than most people, if I’m allowed to boast. Besides, what better excuse exists for parents wanting to travel overseas than when a personal tour guide and free living quarters are at their disposal?

 Third, I am not at all scared, and how absurd that anyone should think so. I’ve been a student at eleven, yes ELEVEN, different schools during my “academic career”. Therefore, acclimating myself to a new life (and time zone!) bears no burden on my mind. And thankfully I’m entirely independent, perhaps too much so, thus the prospect of having to make new friends all over again is but an afterthought, something that just happens when it happens and all in due course.

 

 

What I AM worried about, however, is how I’m going to haul luggage that weighs more than I do!!!

Ok, time to sign off on this one, but be sure to add your email to the subscribers list so you know the SECOND something new gets put up here! Just type your email address in that little box in the upper right hand column. But only if you want to. No pressure. But you should. For real. Do it now.

Toodles!

EM