HEADLINE: American Lost In Hundred Acre Wood!

The great A. A. Milne wrote one of the most popular children's books of all time. You may recognize the name... Winnie The Pooh. His literary talents have captured audiences for decades, as he made the lovable bear and his entourage come to life in the magical place called "The Hundred Acre Wood". So, when I discovered that I was only a short hour away from the actual forest that the cuddly Pooh Bear originated from, I decided to embark on an adventure of my own.

The Hundred Acre Wood is, in reality, The Five Hundred Acre Wood which is set inside Ashdown Forest in East Sussex, England. In case you couldn't gather from the name, it's a big forest. Really big. I had been in dire need of some nature...forest, landscapes, fields... as I have missed it terribly. I believe that my close proximity to all things "country" my whole life was taken for granted, but is now in the forefront of my mind whilst surrounded by tall buildings and city congestion. So I set off at about 9:30 by train. I was disappointed when I got to the station and realized the forest was much farther away than I thought, and had to take a cab to get there. I started at the Hartfield Church... and was supposed to be hiking for about 3 1/2 hours (about 8.7 miles). Before leaving, I had written down a specific hike that I found online that appeared to have pretty good directions.

The hike first took me through a set of four different fields. The view was green with rolling hills with trees sporadically laid over the landscape. I had to climb over three or four fences to stay on the foot path that went through the fields. The directions took me to a back road, and on either side were fields of cows. I thought at first that they were buffalo...they were the color of buffalo and had horns, but upon closer inspection they were just good ol' cows. Even here, I was in awe of the rises and dips in the land. Miles away I could see the green and brown patches of fields in perfectly crafted squares of farmland, neatly cut and tilled.

Shortly after passing the farms, I entered the wood. It was a rather cloudy day and the overhang of the treetops above made things dark and dreary looking. The path was thankfully clearly marked, although it looked as though no one had been on it for quite some time as overgrowth began to suffocate the space that parted through the trees. Leaves were piled high on the path, and my foot would sink down an alarming 6 inches or more with each step. I heard something to my right...something was crunching in the woods. I stopped short, suddenly very aware of my seclusion and isolation. Again...I heard leaves and branches snapping, they seemed to be getting closer. My heart began to pound in my chest. I stood frozen. I thought to myself...

"Hmm, if pooh bear was based in this forest, maybe he was based on the sighting of a real bear?".

Within seconds I talked myself into believing whole heartedly that I was about to be mauled by a bear that had been the inspiration of Winnie the Pooh. Then came the growl... I heard a deep low growl, finished by a deep hoarse bark. Yep it's a bear. Definitely a bear. I'm going to die. The bear will definitely eat me. Again, I hear the growl/bark and I silently reach into my side pocket of my bag and my fingers fumble around and grab hold of a pen. Maybe I could stab it in the eye and then....

Just as I was thinking that courageous and very threatening plan of defense, I heard the cracking of sticks even more so...it was deafening. And it was moving towards me. Fast. I went from freeze mode to flee mode and just as I raised my leg to begin my sprint of escape I looked up and there...oh God, there it was...

A herd of about 25 deer running through the woods in front of me. I froze again, dumbfounded with my mouth gaping open, unsure if I was more shocked that I hadn't been mauled by a bear, or by the sheer amazement of the sight in front of me. It was beautiful. A large 10 point buck was bringing up the rear of the herd, and he stood for a minute, looked towards me and wouldn't you know, he let out a long growl at the end of which turned into a grumbling, warning bark. I stood there laughing to myself for a moment, collected my nerves that i almost expelled all over the forest floor, and carried on my journey.

The woods lasted for quite some time, and finally I came to the A.A. Milne memorial in the forest. It rested high atop one of the hills and looked over miles of English countryside. I sat there for some time, breathing in the sight, soaking it into my memory. Despite the clouds, some sunlight managed to trickle down from the sky leaving a brilliant effect on the ground below, highlighting the patches of green and tan landscape that rolled away into the horizon. This was about 7 miles into my journey and I should have had only about 45 minutes left to go. All that was left was Pooh's Bridge.

The directions had been very easy to follow, up until this point. The paths were no longer marked, and rather than one direct path, there were several paths splitting off in various directions. I followed the directions as closely as I could, but when I came to a main road I felt disoriented and thought it best to turn around and take a different route, as the directions said nothing about a road. So I turned around and walked about 2 miles in the opposite direction. Again I came to a point were several paths went in, literally, 6 different directions. I looked towards my right and saw a horse (thankfully with a woman riding it) trotting up the path. She informed me that I should never have turned around and instead, should have crossed that road that I came to and carried on in the wood. Trying my best to keep my composure, I turned around and walked the two miles back to where I had been. There seemed to be more people walking along this part of the path, all who graciously pointed out the way to Pooh Bridge for me.
I was excited to see Pooh Bridge... the one that had come to life in the Winne The Pooh stories. The place where they play Pooh sticks! yay! And when I had happened to finally come upon it, it was....it was....very anticlimactic. Quite frankly, it was disappointing. It was a small foot bridge that crossed what one could barely consider a stream. Although, I suppose, this was a vestige of A.A. Milne. When thinking on it, I can hardly imagine some flashy Hollywood inspired conundrum in the middle of this forest that has so far been totally unscathed by human advancement.

I took a picture, and carried on, so thankful that I was close to the finish. My body was exhausted by this point and I was already an hour and a half over the time it should have taken me. I noticed as well that dark would be quickly approaching. It was about 3:50pm and with the scare I had earlier, I did not want to be stuck in this forest in the dark. No-thank-you. The last piece of my directions said to go through a few more fields, following the footpath and when I came to the main road, take a right back into Hartfield.

I came to the road, surprised to find it a bit run down and with no visible spot to walk on each side. I started down the road to the right and every time a car came, I had to jump up on the steep embankment bordering the road so I was not run over by a car. I was so very tired, and there was nothing around me on this road. Something seemed off. I came to this old woman who was sitting on the side of the road (not sure what her deal was) and asked her if the direction I was walking was the way to Hartfield. She nodded but said nothing. So I kept going.

I walked and walked and walked. I realized that I was now racing the sun. Darkness was falling upon me. There were no people, no houses, nothing. Screw this, I thought to myself. I got out my phone to try and have a cab pick me up from where I was. Damn it! Emergency calls only. No service. So I kept on walking, although I had a small festering fear in the pit of my stomach. There was no real civilization in sight and I had already walked about 2 1/2 miles on this road. My legs were about to give out, and I had no water left. I was drenched in sweat, because I realized I wasn't just walking on the road, I had actually been climbing a mountain when I turned and looked behind me at the downward slope. I thought "ok, this isn't funny anymore, I'm going to have to call for help". I fully intended on calling the police, as my phone was able to make emergency calls. I pulled my phone from the depths of my bag and to my utter dismay...my phone had died. No battery. Dead. Gone. I choked back tears and I was ready to collapse. Hitchhiking actually crossed my mind...but I was in that "Texas Chainsaw Massacre" kind of area, if you know what I mean, and couldn't muster the courage for such danger.

It was almost dark and I feared all hope was lost until I heard the sound of a hose... Up ahead I saw a large gate leading in to some kind of estate. The gate was closed, but I was able to lean over it and I saw a short little old man washing some caked mud off the tires of his old pickup truck.

"Excuse me! Excuse me, Sir?"

"Yes love, are you alright?" The man inquired gently.

"Can you tell me...is this the way to Hartfield?" Pointing in the direction I had been walking for the last 3 miles.

"No, it is back that way quite a few miles I'm afraid. Are you alright dear?" the man asked.

When he informed me that I had walked three miles...almost an hour and a half...up a mountain...in the wrong direction trying to race the sun...I broke. I literally dropped to my knees and started sobbing. Yup. Balled like a baby in front of this poor old man's gate.

"My God, are you in trouble my dear? Are you alright?" I realized later that he probably was concerned not only because of the incessant crying, but because of my appearance. My hair was soaked through and dripping with sweat, I had mud on my pants up to mid calf, burrs stuck to my shirt and I probably stunk worse than the animals in his barn. Ha!

My story of the days journey spilled out of me along with every tear my body could produce. When I finished, the man promptly excused himself and came back seconds later with his car and told me he was taking me to the train station. I thought to myself for a second that it may be dangerous, but I figured this man was so frail and old that if he tried anything sneaky...I could take him. He ended up being the sweetest man and drove me the 20 miles back to the station and asked for nothing in return. A Saint among men, truly. I thanked him profusely and went inside to catch the train.

When I finally reached home, I collapsed in my bed and fell into the deepest slumber. My body is still recovering from the perilous journey I put it through. What was supposed to be 3 1/2 hours and 8.7 miles, turned into 6 1/2 hours and 15 miles. It wasn't all in vain though. I did come home with some good memories and even more so.... a story to tell :)

The Wave That Wouldn't End

Have I ever told you that I absolutely adore the New England Patriots? It's true. I love them. And I love Tom Brady. And Randy Moss. And Wes Welker. Ok I'm done. Seriously though, one of the greatest times I have had here so far was seeing them play against the Buccaneers at Wembley Stadium here in London.


The stadium itself is massive...the kind that when you are walking around the outside, you can feel the crowd inside pulsating and alive with energy. And then when you get ready to walk in, your heart races and your breath is short because you can only imagine the spectacle you are about to behold! And then it takes your breath away a little when you look in and the space opens up because the sheer scale and splendor of the sight is incomprehensible. When we sat down, it took me a good 20 minutes to stop freaking out at how flippin amazing the seats were. We were about 37 rows up...and in a stadium that holds 90,000 people...let me tell you, that is pretty darn good! My roommate actually purchased the tickets online from a couple who had two extra tickets, and to our initial dismay, they were Bucc's fans. But later on they proved to be our biggest source of amusement and entertainment of the night, second only to the game of course.

So yes...the game. The game was awesome! I will admit, there were little expectations for the worst team in the NFL who are currently 0-7, but they threw in a couple surprises...two interceptions in the first quarter for instance. The stadium was actually hosting the Bucc's and had given away thousands of Bucc flags to the fans and every few minutes the crowd around the stadium turned into a sea of red and white flickering squares. My favorite Bucc's moment was when one of their wide receivers missed the most unbelievably easy pass. Our friend we got the tickets from (Neal) stood up and shouted with his face bright red and his eyes bulged "Oh come on!!! They pay you 9 million dollars a year to catch that f***ing ball!!! I coulda caught that ball!!! Jesus!" And there is me with a sly smile spread across my face and I just turn and curtly say "Yeah, considering your team is soon 0-7 you probably are better than any of their players". He shot me a look of unbridled contempt, but then broke into laughter. I could see the shoulders of the men in front of us rising and falling, chuckling at the despair of the poor Bucc's fan.

Neal's girlfriend was adorable as well, although if she emasculated the sport I love one more time, me and her were going to have issues. Every time the Bucc's defense got in position to play, she would scream "SQUISH EM'!!!, SQUISH EM'!!!". I glanced at Shari with a look of disgust and said "did she just say the word "squish" in football???" I think at one point she said to Shari "Those Pats are naughty boys!" And all I could think was, "alright lady, you don't use words like 'naughty' or 'squish' in football...if you continue to make my big masculine men sound like little prancing ballerinas, these fans will be lookin at row 37 instead of the game!!!". Haha...it was all in good fun though.

The other time of note during the game, came about midway through the second half. Across the stadium, directly parallel to where we were sitting we noticed that the crowd all seemed to be moving together. No. It can't be. Tell me they're not trying...yep. The Wave. The crowd across from us was desperately trying to start the wave and one section kept failing to follow through and would kill it every time it got to them. It would get two or three sections down and then be dead in the same spot every time. And this is how it happened: So I would go back to diligently following my future husband, Tom, leading the team to victory. But again I was brought out of my trance of love when I hear someone yell "oh my God! They got it finally! They are doing the wave!!". And before I knew it the mass wall of hands was speeding closer and closer to our section and then "WOOO!!" up we went! All around the stadium, you could see all four tiers moving like dominoes across the field. And then again, it came around... up we go "WOOOO!". Yay for the wave! So glad they finally got it!! Ok...wait they are doing it again? Ok....and the crowd starts a unanimous crescendo-ing "OOHHHH" before it hits us again and the "WOOOO!"...up we went again. Ok, so yeah, how bout the game? Yeah! Alright! back to the game!...ok lets watch....Why aren't they playing? Oh no. Wait...it's still going? Really? AGAIN?? and wow, yup, ok ... "OOHHH!!!" "WWOOOO"!!!! No one wanted to get up anymore...but this wave was no ordinary wave...it was mystical...it had us all like puppets under its spell. We wanted to sit...we really did...but every time the resounding "OOOHHHH" started, we knew our legs would force us up and some external force would pull our arms up over our head!

Ladies and Gentleman...I was part of the longest running wave that ever graced American football...TWELVE MINUTES of the wave. A little inclining of how long this wave lasted.... the players on the field had to STOP playing. Literally stopped. They stood on the field just looking around for the damn wave to stop! It was out of control... I was shocked they didn't just sit down on the bench for how long it lasted. The only way it finally stopped was some genius started waving their damn white and red Bucc's flag and then the crowd decided they would rather wave their flags together at that point, rather than keeping standing up and down together. And finally the wave was dead. Finally over. And the game can resume...but I can't help but imagine that all of the players are laughing to themselves at something they have never witnessed in America...a uniquely English experience....pretty cool.

The game ended with a 35-7 win...woot woot! I was still desperately wanting some sort of merchandise to take home with me. We took our time leaving the stadium, and immediately regretted that decision when we look out towards the Tube Station and saw 80,000 people lined up for 1/2 a mile in a one-way road. Along the ominous and tortoise paced walk, there were only a couple stands still open and one place only had scarves left so I was sad that I wasn't going to be able to buy anything. Although, a man at one of the concession stands did yell to me and said since I was the most beautiful girl he had seen all night, I could have the scarf for free. Aww how sweet. *Runs away quickly with the scarf before man changes mind*.

A special shout out to my roommate, who bought the tickets for me! Thank you so much! I needed that night so very badly...and it was a smashing good time! What a team. What a game. What a night! P.s...Toni Braxton sang the national anthem! Random!

Photos

Close to the city center, and what a typical London street looks like.

The view from my "flat". It never ceases to amaze me :)

A park nearby. English sheep and an awesome cityscape...Love it!

Ice? You mean frozen water? Never heard of it.

So since this blog is devoted to documenting my experience in London, I thought I may point out a couple of things that have really transcended the normal reactions one would have in a new place….

1.) In pedestrian traffic areas there is no established side that people walk on. In the states, we drive on the right and in most situations would walk on the right as well. So here…people drive on the left, so there would be an assumption that people walk on the left as well. Wrong. Wherever you walk it is one big helter-skelter of a mess with people dodging each other as though it was a professional sport. You can tell there are some who are better at it then others too because they have sophisticated side-step moves and the ability to squeeze themselves between people walking closely together. In the tube, signs actually say “stay to the right”. In my opinion this is the source of all the mystification regarding proper walking etiquette in this country. That one instruction throws off everyone’s equilibrium, as everything in their body is inherently telling them to walk to the left because that is how their brain has been trained.

2.) There is no ice. Ice does not exist in the country of England. Well, ok, it exists but people look at you with a mixture of bafflement, contempt, and pity when you ask for it. In our first couple of weeks here, every time I asked for water it would come back, room temperature…no ice. So one day I said “is there anyway I can get ice in my water?”. And the waitress paused for a second, stammered on a few syllables and said “Ice? Um, yeah, I think we can do that”. And then she came back with a glass on her tray and I could hardly stifle my excitement. Finally! Ice! It may have even had a glowing aura of light protruding from the rim and angels were singing… it was quite the moment! With conviction and pride she set the glass down in front of me, pleased with herself at the victory of fulfilling such a monumental request. I look down with trepidation and anticipation… And there I see them; two of the most miniscule, barely-there, shards of ice known to man bobbing back and forth in my water glass. Mocking me… laughing at me. Two ice cubes? REALLY??? What am I going to do with TWO of the worlds smallest ice cubes!! And they weren't even cubes! They were just little slabs! Ice can be found without such a zealous effort at your finer establishments of course, so apparently only people with money in this country deserve to have cold beverages.

3.) Public displays of affection are much more acceptable here than in the US. There hasn’t been a day yet where I haven’t passed a couple (or two, or three, or four couples) engaging in some tonsil hockey…literally devouring each others faces. Those are rather unnerving and unnecessary and I have to suppress strong urges to scream “Get a room!”. However, EVERYONE holds hands here. It is the cutest thing. Especially elderly people. Any couple one may come across holds hands while they walk, while they eat, on the tube, everywhere. A clear, palpable message that two people very much enjoy each other. Yup, I dig it.

4.) The word “Cheers” is ubiquitous… It is used as Hello, Goodbye, Thank You, You’re Welcome, See You soon….basically every form of courteous verbal gesture and/or small talk can be substituted by the word Cheers. I have yet to start saying it because it just feels weird, that …and I am just not that fond of it to be honest. I like words too much to have one be used as a universal transaction.

5.) Lastly, the one that takes the cake for me is the street signs here. Wait. Let me rephrase that…The one that takes the cake for me is the total, utter, complete LACK of proper street signs here. Oh sure, there are street signs…they do exist, and sometimes you can find them dangling from a nail on the third or fourth building down the street up in between 2 second story windows. It is infuriating, and it is beyond me how anyone navigates this city without anyway to identify what road they are on!


Well there ya have it. Just a couple of things I have noticed in this land I am living in. Beyond that…there are no real updates. The job search is still in full throttle and I am just waiting to get some sort of normalcy in my life underway. Until next time…Keep on keepin on.

A bit glad, a bit sad.

Ok, so I am totally fed up with this no job business. I feel like a complete waste of space. I'm sorry to say that my painstaking measures of remaining optimistic are dwindling. Small bits of positivity are burning up and flying away in fragments of ashes. I NEED to work... or start volunteering very soon before I completely lose my mind.

For the most part I have tried to make the most of an excessive amount of time with a very minuscule amount of money. In the past couple of days I saw all of the touristy things that London has to offer...you know, Big Ben, Parliament, Westminster Abbey, Trafalgar Square, The National Gallery, a couple of markets. All quite impressive I might add. The architecture of these buildings is awe inspiring. It is crazy to be standing in front of a building that is hundreds of years old and know that you walked in the same steps as historical figures. I guess I'm just a dork like that though, ha ha.

I had a few times in this past week where I had a small ache in my heart for the people I miss so very much already. One of those times was when my best friend sent me pictures of her wedding dress...I'd lie if I said I didn't cry AGAIN. It was an absolution for me that this planning that we've talked about since we were little girls was going to go on even while I'm in London...without me. I can't help but feel as though I broke an unspoken promise or oath between the two of us, and for that I am apologetic.

Sometimes the scale of what I've done, packing up and moving to a different country, really hits me, like when I think about who I left. I know that someday, hopefully soon, the goodness of this decision will start to bear fruit and the doors that have opened will be innumerable. Hopefully.

In the meantime, on with the job search and hopefully starting to volunteer this week :) In closing let me quote the great Robert Frost who has been on my mind lately... "Two roads diverged in a wood and I...I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference".

A Glorious Rejection From the Malevolent Huffing Matron

I wish I could start this entry with "Yay!! I got a job and don't have to worry about those little things like having enough money to live and gaining a proper visa so I'm not deported from this country!". Sadly, I regret to inform everyone that I did not get the job.

After I was supposed to hear the decision yesterday, I waited anxiously by my phone every hour of the day and night. When noonish rolled around today I wasn't willing to sit and wait any longer. My patience had worn down to just a thin wafer substance by mid Monday so I'm surprised I lasted that long. The woman who is the chair of the department (who I am thoroughly convinced is huffing some sort of aerosol product, indicated by her tortoise pace of speech and droopy gaze) finally picked up the phone and said "I'm sorry to say that we went with the woman who interviewed yesterday, as she scored higher than you did". She claimed she "left me a message" which is a damn lie. She also said that it wasn't that they weren't impressed with me...they were...but it came down to just a few points difference. That's all fine and dandy... the roll that job was demanding from me was a bit above and beyond my experience anyhow...so if she had just said "the woman had more supervisory experience than you" I would have been totally cool with that. But she didn't say that. She said that "You haven't really done enough crisis work, so we went with the other person." WHAT?? Are you out of your mind you crazy, huffing, tool??? I'm pretty sure every ounce of experience and expertise I have to offer is in the form of acute crisis intervention! UGH!!! And lets not talk about how I waited SIX weeks after spending over $1500 to fly to an interview that couldn't wait and then you don't have the decency to call me or contact me at all during that time! Some of the bureaucracies in this country literally make me feel unhinged. I was treated unjustly through this whole process, with or without job in hand.

All that being said...I'm Ok with this. Weird I know. From my aforementioned rant, one would think that I am foaming at the mouth and doubled over with devastation. But in all honesty, I kinda didn't want this job. I mean, sure I wanted A job just to feel secure with money and my status in this country...but after thinking on this and praying with everything I've got, something started to not feel right about it. Everything from day one was so shady with this place. I was never treated the way that I deserve to be treated. I believe that I have very VERY good intuition and I trust it implicitly. When I went for the interview, I did not get the best vibe from the place and even back then, though I was blinded by the lure of the big pay check, I knew that something didn't feel right about it. I didn't have that feeling of pure joy and instant reassurance that this was exactly where I was meant to be at that exact moment like I did at Polaris or at UConn. On Monday, when I hadn't heard from them, it was about 1pm and I said to Shari... "I know I didn't get this job". And strangely enough, I started wishing for that very outcome. Crazy, I know! But I believe wholeheartedly that I am meant for something different and I'm pretty excited to find out what that is now.

A good thing that happened today: Right after my glorious rejection, I received a phone call from Viv, who is one of the people who interviewed me for my cherished refugee job. She received all of my paperwork, and I should be able to begin volunteering with her in the next week. I told her that until I start working she can have me full time if she wants. Mind you this is a pretty sweet set up as they are offering to pay for my transportation and are offering me free supervision as well, not to mention endless networking prospects. If that job would have been full time, that literally would have been the dream job. Refugees are a new peaked interest of mine lately, so this experience will be invaluable. She also suggested that I volunteer half the time with her and half the time with her boss at a community mental health agency. So, that is definitely something to look forward to and something that will most likely greatly impress any future employer (hopefully near future employer).

So to all my cheerleaders out there...fear not. My hopes are still high, my heart is still full, and my chin is still up. I wasn't meant for that job. Period. I trust that concept and can't wait to find out what the next chapter in this saga will be!

I'll have some football with a dash of Anti-Americanism on the side please

I just got back from central London after hunting down only one of two places in the entire southern portion of this country that broadcasts American football. A little place called "Bodeans BBQ" nestled in a little side street off of the bustling version of London's fifth avenue. Let me tell you, this place was teaming with Americans which was an oddity because I kept forgetting that I was still very far from home. I met a man from Hungary who offered me the only seat left in the house; he graduated from Northwestern and just so happened to be a Pats fan. My kinda dude.

There were only a few English blokes in the place and I had to laugh when they periodically flashed the rules of American football across the screen. Also being the only woman in the place made me feel right at home too... right down to my suffering through all of the stories that college age American boys were telling of their drunken female conquests over the weekend. Pigs...haha. Luckily those guys in particular were all Baltimore fans so when the Pats had sealed the deal on the game in the last 30 seconds I howled without restraint and with victory!

Anyhow, this guy from Hungary told me that the Patriots are actually playing in London on October 25th against Tampa. Apparently they play one game per season here! I almost fell of my chair, mouth hanging open in disbelief... I am so there! Well if I get the job tomorrow that is. On my way home, in the quiet moments on The Tube, I mulled that over in my head. I love The Tube at night...void of all the entangled, sweaty limbs of workday travelers. It offers an unexpected tranquility and a quiet time to drift wherever the mind may wander. Mine wandered right into a prophecy of Monday afternoon when I receive the phone call about this damn job.

Anyway, I digress. So yes, this Hungary person, whose name escapes me unfortunately, was exceptionally congenial, which I have found to be the norm of most people I have met here. Please note that I very intentionally used the word "most". This blog would not be complete if I did not share the story of our first run-in with some Anti-Americanism from a man who will undoubtedly receive the Douche-Bag-Of-The-Year-Award. A couple of nights ago, Shari and I were sitting outside of a cafe in a mall having a coffee and just talking about flat related things and what not. Quite frankly the subject matter was rather mundane and nothing that would cause either of us to be boisterous or loud in any way. Keep in mind...we are in a mall...in a high traffic intersection of a mall...basically a food court in a mall. Ok, so this couple sits down next to us and a few moments later the man stands up and walks over to our table. The corners of his mouth are somewhat turned up, mildly resembling what the rest of the world recognizes as a smile, and he seems nice enough. He begins to speak in a conformed tone "So listen, you guys are neighbors yeah? Well I just want you to know that no one else around here can hear their own conversation because you are so loud... you are being ridiculously loud so you need to stop and be quiet so the rest of us can talk".

Now let me address that Shari and I can get on a laughing fit or on a certain topic of discussion...and hell yes we can be loud. But let me assure you, this was NOT in NO WAY one of those times. And we were in A MALL not a library. There was nothing inappropriate about our volume. The man's initial nice tone turned into a chastising...no no, better yet, a demanding, threatening command to obey his wish. Well anyone who knows Shari or I, knows that something like that just wasn't gonna fly. Who the hell did he think he was talkin to?? Obviously he had no clue. So I immediately curl my face up in disgust and spit back an "EXCUSE ME???" and Shari says to the man "Um, I would have had absolutely no problem being quieter if you could have asked me appropriately and were not so rude. What you just said was so incredibly rude...that was not Ok..."

And then...this man stands from his chair again, comes over to our table, bends down to about five inches away from Shari's face, his putrid breath invading our table atmosphere, clenches his fists, grits his teeth, bulges his eyes, pumps blood into his neck veins and with the utmost severity and conviction says "If you want to fucking see rude, I will fucking show you fucking rude!!!" *Picks jaw up off of floor*

Shari immediately shoots back a series of "you are the most ...arrogant, ignorant, grotesque human being, your behavior is disgusting, and I am getting a police officer". I stand up and look at the woman that he is with and she has no expression...just a blank stare looking down at her own folded arms resting on the tabletop. Ding ding ding! We have a woman beater ladies and gentlemen!

So as we stand from the table, I say, keeping my eyes on the woman, not the douche bag, "Wow, you must be an absolute JOY to live with at home". And while we were walking away he goes "Go to McDonald's" LOL!!! What??? And BAM there was our clue that it had a bit to do with our being American...and Shari says "NO! I'de rather get security instead". Haha, and she did...two officers who took care of the man after we left.

But please, this man did not know who he was messin with, I diagnosed his ass the first time that vein started pulsating in his neck, and I saw his wifey with that apathetic gaze. Wow, even writing about it makes me start reeling again. Never in my life have I ever been treated like that before. But I know the difference between a normal Londoner and a person with severe and enduring mental health problems... and this dude was totally off his rocker and a total narcissistic predator. So yes, you could call it the first bout of some ethnocentric attitudes but I call it just another mental illness untreated. We processed it for a good two hours and then took a walk and went to sleep with no skin off our backs. Its all good. And now I am going to sleep happy with a very pleasant New England Patriots win still fresh in my heart and positive thoughts about the phone call that I'm getting tomorrow informing me that I DO have a job :) Goodnight all, until next time...

A week into the new life as a Londoner!

Soooo, this is my first go at this whole "blogging" thing. I have always been warm to the idea, but never felt that people needed to know that much about my life, until of course, I decided to pack up and move across the world to a foreign country. My life in 2009 has taken more unexpected turns than I could ever have anticipated and the level of personal growth I have gone through still astounds me when I reflect back on months past. In many ways, I just want to share my journey with anyone willing to follow along, because if you ask me, it's been pretty awesome as of late.

I have moved from my beloved home state of Connecticut, USA to the South East corner of London, UK known as "The Docklands", more specifically "The Isle of Dogs". My experience here has been a dichotomous one, with one half of me happy as a clam to be living in such a diverse metropolitan area and the other half on the cusp of a complete and total nervous breakdown because of all the things that have gone awry since our arival. I will spare you the details of the horror that our letting (which is the Brit word for leasing to clarify for my fellow Americans) agent caused us, but simply say that homicidal thoughts were pervasive in my body, soul, language, and inner most desires for several days. With the exception of two broken toilets, plaster strewn and dried in crusty piles all over my bathroom from the builder, four rooms not being painted as promised, and the FIFTH key that we did not recieve to get into the outside gate, things are actually on the upswing with this whole flat thing. Ha ha! And thats just the tip of the iceberg folks.

I am still jobless but am remaining optimistic. I have been offered two jobs, one was not enough hours as it was only part time and the other offered me a postion ten minutes after the interview, only to call me back in another five minutes to basically say that I was too qualified for that particular position and they would not be able to sponsor my Visa. Bitches. I took that particular let down surprisingly well... but perhaps in my heart of hearts I just know that my destiny is and always has been pointing to the job I WILL get on Monday when they call (finger crossed...very tightly).

People that I have met thus far have asked "So how do you like London?" and the first thing out of my mouth almost every time is "I love the diversity". This is honestly the most diverse place I have ever seen in my life and quite frankly even a bit overwhelming when first exposed to it. And yes people, even more than New York City....my roomate said it best when she said "New York is not a real melting pot like London, NYC is more like a tossed salad". I'm not just talking about ethnic diversity either, although that particular category of demographic is a spectacle in and of itself. You walk down any street and hear ten different languages, see different styles of dress, gay couples, interracial couples, differences in ages, traditional attire from the Middle East and Africa, etc. An inconspicuous blend of humaness with a general understanding that this is just the way life is. And then there is me of course... with my jaw on the floor half the time because it is all so different from what I know. Even in the Northeastern US, life can be considered pretty liberal, but I'de argue with anyone who said they couldn't feel tension in a room when an interacial group walked in, or a gay couple was holding hands, or a girl with a purple and lime green mohawk came around. Like I said, that tension doesn't happen here...it's just part of every day normalcy for your average Londoner...and I love it more than words can describe.

I have met a couple of people, mostly from local stores and church. Yes, I know, for those of you who know me well this may be a little jarring bit of news for you. But hey, I am embarking on a new journey and I am not limiting myself to any experiences, including religion. I want to be a well-rounded individual and feel a bit stunted in the area of spirituality...so really, why not? Oh and I should mention that my flat is just about the most mind-blowingly gorgeous place on the face of the planet...prepare for an influx of pictures and videos...cause honestly, yall need to see how I'm living!! For now I am hittin the hay and looking forward to a day at Mudchute Park tomorow which is apparently a sight to see in my hood. Keep it real and feel free to check back in to see where the wind takes me... which will hopefully be to some sort of employment real soon! Word.