In a feeble attempt to give myself a cathartic experience through writing, I am going to retell the tale of "The Rat" in full detail. It may be traumatic to bring my mind back to these events, but for the purposes of entertainment for my readers...I will sacrifice my sanity to bring smiles and laughter to those I love.
Since I started working, I feel blessed that I am able to walk to work everyday. It's great exercise, fresh air, and it helps to reduce my carbon foot print...which to be honest, has been like a gargantuan troll stomping through the forest. It is a great part of my day. Usually.
Today, my experience of walking to work was tainted irrevocably. All of my pleasant strolls along the bank of the Thames are now stained with distasteful memories and painful reminders. I am changed after a simple walk to work, went horrifically wrong.
Nearing the end of my walk, getting close to the building my team is based in (Mulberry Place)there is a huge intersection in which roads, tunnels, and bridges all cross each other. There is a path for pedestrians that goes underneath this intersection and comes out at the foot of the Blackwall DLR train station.
There I was, ipod in my ears, jamming out to some Michael Jackson, unknowingly approaching the underpass that was about to change my life. As I rounded a slight corner and began walking under a foot path, suddenly, out of no where, something fell on my shoulder...slid off...and hit the ground with a thud. My brain, for some reason, immediately deduced that the most logical explanation was that a bird had flown into the side of the bridge and killed itself and then fell on me.
So I looked down with trepidation, expecting to see a mutilated bird, but instead I saw IT. The biggest RAT in the ENTIRE WORLD.
A RAT HAD JUST FALLEN FROM THE SKY ONTO MY SHOULDER. ONTO...MY...SHOULDER!!!! This Rat would hold the Guinness book of world records for the biggest rat of of all time. It was the size of a small dog... and bigger than most Chihuahuas. I don't know if you fully understand the gravity of the situation.
A MASSIVE RAT FELL ONTO MY SHOULDER!!! A RAT!!! A DISEASE INFESTED VERMIN!!
I hadn't realized that a woman had been walking towards me and was just a few feet in front of me, and had watched the horror unfold. We both had froze for a few seconds, letting our brains compute the fact that a ginormous RAT had just fallen from the bridge right above our heads. Once we realized what it was we both let out blood curdling screams and threw our backs against the wall as though this rat was surely about to bring us to our demise. The rat, terrified, or possibly amused if you ask me, began running around in circles at our feet, only prompting us to scream louder!
Finally, when it ran off, the woman and I just stood staring at each other, mouths agape and panting with relief. I'm sure she was quite relieved that the rat had fallen on me instead of her. How do you recover from something like that?? When your morning starts off with a Mutant RAT falling ONTO your shoulder, that's pretty much a wrap on the rest of your day. It's going to be really hard to have a happy day after something of that magnitude.
I am traumatized. I'm quite sure that I will need to seek professional help because of this incident. I am scarred. It is inevitable that I will have nightmares about the sky's opening up and raining rats down onto me.
I just wanted to share this, because if you were having a bad day... well...now you know it could have been worse.
A rat could have fallen on you.
Friday, 30 April 2010
Wednesday, 21 April 2010
It's Always Sunny in London
Yeah right! But it has been sunny in the last week anyway! It's so rare to find mass quantities of sunshine anywhere in England, but the last week has been absolutely gorgeous. The forecast for the next 10 days is sparkling sunny skies and temperatures that keep creeping up as the weekend approaches to a wapping 21 degrees celcius (70 farenheit for those of you who, like me, are metric-challenged). I can't speak for the rest of England, but I can tell you London comes alive on a whole new scale when there is an abundance of sunshine...the whole city smiles. Everyone, and I mean everyone...is happy. It's wonderful.
Hence my absence from the blog. Sitting outside along the river surrounded by smiling, happy faces has been much more appealing than sitting on my couch clicking away on my netbook. But tonight I have succumbed to the power of the sun setting over the river and the fact that there is no better place to admire it then my very own living room, given the view from my bodacious pad.
There is something I have wanted to address in recent days which is the current political climate here (quite intriuging).
Most of you in the US probably aren't aware that the elections for Prime Minister are likely to occur in less than 2 weeks here. I say "likely" because unlike us they do not have a set date that elections happen on. They are considering May 6th to be the day, but that has yet to be finalized.
After experiencing the fervor and intensity of the last US Presidential election, I am completely dumbfounded by the complete opposite citizen reaction here. As you may well remember, in The States we were inundated and overloaded at every turn with campaign advertisements, debates, and interviews. We couldn't walk down the street with out having every sense bombarded with something related to the election. In my experience, I was so passionate about the election, that it consumed me, quite literally for almost a full year on a daily basis.
That is why I don't even have words to describe what it is like here, 2 weeks before the leader of one of the most powerful countries in the world is about to be elected. There is no passion, no emotion, no conversation, very little media, nothing. It is absolutely bizzare. I have yet to hear any person voice either their approval or opposition of the three potential candidates (Gordon Brown: Labour Party and current prime minister; David Cameron: Tory Party; Nick Clegg: Liberal Democrat Party). There is only ONE thing I have heard from at least 15 people. It is almost always with regard to the funding of something or budget concerns.
"We will just have to wait and see what happens after the election".
Thats it. I swear on my life that, word for word, that is the only utterance I have heard regarding the election of the leader of Great Britain. Afterwards, there is never any semblance of a "side" the particular person is on, or who they hope does or does not get elected. Just this flat, neutral statement.
I think part of it may have to do with the difference in the issues which are relevant between the US and the UK. For us, I think there are very concrete ideals and perspectives that make you either a Democrat or a Republican. Many of things that we can be so passionate about changing (or keeping the same) in the US, aren't even really considered problematic here. For example the never-ending abortion debate - a colleague informed me that all three candidates here would be pro-choice, if it was even an issue. Or Gay Marriage...again, not an issue, all three would be a proponent of such.
Another interesting part of the political system here, which I just learned about is their actual election process. On the day of the election, when the masses come out to vote, people are not actually voting for one of the three prime minister candidates. Instead, they vote for their local MP (Member of Parliment) and whichever party has the most Members of Parliment elected is the candidate that wins. I had NO idea that this was the process. Every election process has its flaws I suppose, but man, this process seems REALLY flawed. What if, for example, you hate the MP running in your local area, but you very much want the candidate of that political party to be Prime Minister? It's a terrible position to be in!
From what I'm told, if I could vote here, I would almost certainly belong to the Lib Dems. Just the name makes me believe this is true! They are the underdog for this election apparently, which is unfortunate. After watching the first debate which was just last week, I was pickin up what Nick Clegg was laying down!
So in closing, I suppose the appropriate thing to say is "We will just have to wait and see what happens after the election"! :)
Hence my absence from the blog. Sitting outside along the river surrounded by smiling, happy faces has been much more appealing than sitting on my couch clicking away on my netbook. But tonight I have succumbed to the power of the sun setting over the river and the fact that there is no better place to admire it then my very own living room, given the view from my bodacious pad.
There is something I have wanted to address in recent days which is the current political climate here (quite intriuging).
Most of you in the US probably aren't aware that the elections for Prime Minister are likely to occur in less than 2 weeks here. I say "likely" because unlike us they do not have a set date that elections happen on. They are considering May 6th to be the day, but that has yet to be finalized.
After experiencing the fervor and intensity of the last US Presidential election, I am completely dumbfounded by the complete opposite citizen reaction here. As you may well remember, in The States we were inundated and overloaded at every turn with campaign advertisements, debates, and interviews. We couldn't walk down the street with out having every sense bombarded with something related to the election. In my experience, I was so passionate about the election, that it consumed me, quite literally for almost a full year on a daily basis.
That is why I don't even have words to describe what it is like here, 2 weeks before the leader of one of the most powerful countries in the world is about to be elected. There is no passion, no emotion, no conversation, very little media, nothing. It is absolutely bizzare. I have yet to hear any person voice either their approval or opposition of the three potential candidates (Gordon Brown: Labour Party and current prime minister; David Cameron: Tory Party; Nick Clegg: Liberal Democrat Party). There is only ONE thing I have heard from at least 15 people. It is almost always with regard to the funding of something or budget concerns.
"We will just have to wait and see what happens after the election".
Thats it. I swear on my life that, word for word, that is the only utterance I have heard regarding the election of the leader of Great Britain. Afterwards, there is never any semblance of a "side" the particular person is on, or who they hope does or does not get elected. Just this flat, neutral statement.
I think part of it may have to do with the difference in the issues which are relevant between the US and the UK. For us, I think there are very concrete ideals and perspectives that make you either a Democrat or a Republican. Many of things that we can be so passionate about changing (or keeping the same) in the US, aren't even really considered problematic here. For example the never-ending abortion debate - a colleague informed me that all three candidates here would be pro-choice, if it was even an issue. Or Gay Marriage...again, not an issue, all three would be a proponent of such.
Another interesting part of the political system here, which I just learned about is their actual election process. On the day of the election, when the masses come out to vote, people are not actually voting for one of the three prime minister candidates. Instead, they vote for their local MP (Member of Parliment) and whichever party has the most Members of Parliment elected is the candidate that wins. I had NO idea that this was the process. Every election process has its flaws I suppose, but man, this process seems REALLY flawed. What if, for example, you hate the MP running in your local area, but you very much want the candidate of that political party to be Prime Minister? It's a terrible position to be in!
From what I'm told, if I could vote here, I would almost certainly belong to the Lib Dems. Just the name makes me believe this is true! They are the underdog for this election apparently, which is unfortunate. After watching the first debate which was just last week, I was pickin up what Nick Clegg was laying down!
So in closing, I suppose the appropriate thing to say is "We will just have to wait and see what happens after the election"! :)
Monday, 5 April 2010
I Have A Terrible Illness: The Travel Bug.
It's true...I've been bitten, stung, and jabbed by the Travel Bug. I can't get enough. As soon as I leave the house to go on one trip, I'm already thinking about where I am going to go next. For the purposes of this blog, I will at least try and stay focused on just one location at present though.
Germany was Wunderbar!! At first it was a little jarring because everything is in German (obviously) which is one language that I can recognize almost nothing. Most Germans that I encountered almost always spoke English as a second language. That is except for the 90 year old woman that cut in front of me when buying train tickets. I believe she heard us speaking English and for some reason deduced that we would be incapable of operating the ticket machine (despite there being a glaring symbol for English translation on the machine).
She began pointing at the machine and speaking loudly in German. So picture a short, old woman with stark white hair, deep set wrinkles and tired eyes behind thickly framed glasses, practically shouting something that sounded like the following: " sldfjowiek, lsdfiehghe...sdfk...iyhy weuszhe fheosie PXZHEHSKED!!". The look on my face surely must have been enough to say "Lady, I have no freaking clue what the hell you just said", but just to be sure I just shook my head and just said "English". It didn't register... here she goes again.... "oiassxwz werfsuz sedeausghg weaiudfbtg WHIAUSHEZ!" I just stared at her. She was too old to see reason. Thankfully there was a man next to her who obviously picked up the signs that we were not in any way German and said "She is telling you how to use the machine and how much it costs!" We laughed and finally the old lady walked away still signing off to us and wishing us well in her thick German tongue! Bless her heart!
We dropped our things off at the hostel and asked the girl at the front desk where a good place to start exploring Hamburg was. She pulled out a map and circled the area that she claimed had good things to see and do and we headed off in that direction.
Being that it was Good Friday, every single shop, store, and most pubs were closed. More importantly, the deranged and sadistic girl from the hostel, sent us to what I'm convinced is the absolute worst place in all of Germany. Maybe in the entire world. Actually, in all of God's creation there is nothing more terrible.
I remember getting off the train and walking around thinking "Oh my God, is this really where I have to spend three whole days"? Forget about the drunks, prostitutes, and drug dealers for a moment....but there was really nothing to see. The streets were unremarkable, the architecture of the area was forgettable and boring, and there was literally nothing that warranted the small effort of sifting through my purse for my camera. Every few meters there was a drunk person staggering all over the place, or men smoking in front of unmarked steel doors that looked as though they led to the cavernous depths of hell itself. We were followed by a man in a car for at least three blocks. He slowly drove next to us as we continued walking, hollering in German out the window, beckoning us towards the car. Feeling dejected, but neither one of was wanting to verbalize the unfortunate circumstance we were in, we decided to head to he nearest pub and discuss a plan of action over a beer.
After some schnitzel, sausage, and German beer, we saw a tour bus across the street. The idea was that by the grace of God we would perhaps see a part of the city that wasn't crime-ridden and didn't have imminent danger lurking around every corner. Luckily, that's exactly what happened. About 2 miles down the road from where we were, it was like the heavens opened up and angels were singing! There were amazing cobblestone streets, bridge covered canals, artistically groomed trees, and stands advertising delicious German beer everywhere. An oasis had opened up! I immediately began cursing that wench at the hostel for sending us to the only ugly part of the city!
It turned out to be a gorgeous day and even better it had been confirmed that my good friend Dan was going to be able to join us for the weekend and would be there by the end of the night. Dan was in France on business and happened to have a car for the duration of his stay so the crazy fool decided to drive 7 hours from France to Hamburg, Germany. I waited in the hostel bar for him for four hours, the whole time chatting with a Brit named Charles. After over-indulging on the delectable locally brewed beverage I couldn't wait any longer and decided to hit the hay. I fell asleep quickly.
I woke up to the sound of rustling and giggling. Apparently, Dan had come in the room and thought I was the other American guy, Derek, that we were sharing the room with! Derek has long blond hair, and the last time Dan saw me, I was a blond. So when he got in the room he saw the mass of blond splayed over the pillow, got right down in his face, and began shaking him saying "Julie! Julie! Wake up!". Derek, having been in a dead sleep, woke up to this big man shaking him and yelling my name into his face. Shari woke before I did and said "Uh, Dan... that's not Julie!". He stepped back, a little confused and a little embarrassed... "Oh, sorry man"! Luckily Derek was quite a laid back dude and rolled over and shrugged it off easily.
We explored Hamburg on Saturday, did some shopping, ate great food, drank exceptional wine and tapped into the endless variety of German beers. Dan and I went to the Red Light District, called Reeperban at around 1am. The debauchery knew no bounds... drunk people staggering everywhere and a cataclysm of yelling, laughter, and coughing from all the various forms of smoke. The main strip had glass windows with displays of scantily clad women in sheer lingerie with fuzzy red handcuffs. Every side street was lined with bars and clubs. Music poured out into the streets through their open doors. There were hookers on each corner, baring cleavage and everything else. We knew they were prostitutes because they all had fanny packs on, which I am assuming is where they kept their money. I remember as we were walking by a group of them I heard a young American lad say "dude! it's only 30 bucks for a blow job!". I bet he ended up with quite a few stories that night!
As we were making our way back to the hostel, we realised the sun was coming up. It was 6:30 and I was beat. Sunday definitely called for a late check-out. Because Dan had a car, we decided to take a day trip to the nearby city of Bremin. It was my first time on the Autobahn and it wasn't incredibly exciting. But we did get to drive quite fast!
All in all, another good trip. And even better...I got my first paycheck last week and I'm on annual leave until Thursday! Might be doing a little more traveling this week!
I miss all of my US peeps and fam!
Germany was Wunderbar!! At first it was a little jarring because everything is in German (obviously) which is one language that I can recognize almost nothing. Most Germans that I encountered almost always spoke English as a second language. That is except for the 90 year old woman that cut in front of me when buying train tickets. I believe she heard us speaking English and for some reason deduced that we would be incapable of operating the ticket machine (despite there being a glaring symbol for English translation on the machine).
She began pointing at the machine and speaking loudly in German. So picture a short, old woman with stark white hair, deep set wrinkles and tired eyes behind thickly framed glasses, practically shouting something that sounded like the following: " sldfjowiek, lsdfiehghe...sdfk...iyhy weuszhe fheosie PXZHEHSKED!!". The look on my face surely must have been enough to say "Lady, I have no freaking clue what the hell you just said", but just to be sure I just shook my head and just said "English". It didn't register... here she goes again.... "oiassxwz werfsuz sedeausghg weaiudfbtg WHIAUSHEZ!" I just stared at her. She was too old to see reason. Thankfully there was a man next to her who obviously picked up the signs that we were not in any way German and said "She is telling you how to use the machine and how much it costs!" We laughed and finally the old lady walked away still signing off to us and wishing us well in her thick German tongue! Bless her heart!
We dropped our things off at the hostel and asked the girl at the front desk where a good place to start exploring Hamburg was. She pulled out a map and circled the area that she claimed had good things to see and do and we headed off in that direction.
Being that it was Good Friday, every single shop, store, and most pubs were closed. More importantly, the deranged and sadistic girl from the hostel, sent us to what I'm convinced is the absolute worst place in all of Germany. Maybe in the entire world. Actually, in all of God's creation there is nothing more terrible.
I remember getting off the train and walking around thinking "Oh my God, is this really where I have to spend three whole days"? Forget about the drunks, prostitutes, and drug dealers for a moment....but there was really nothing to see. The streets were unremarkable, the architecture of the area was forgettable and boring, and there was literally nothing that warranted the small effort of sifting through my purse for my camera. Every few meters there was a drunk person staggering all over the place, or men smoking in front of unmarked steel doors that looked as though they led to the cavernous depths of hell itself. We were followed by a man in a car for at least three blocks. He slowly drove next to us as we continued walking, hollering in German out the window, beckoning us towards the car. Feeling dejected, but neither one of was wanting to verbalize the unfortunate circumstance we were in, we decided to head to he nearest pub and discuss a plan of action over a beer.
After some schnitzel, sausage, and German beer, we saw a tour bus across the street. The idea was that by the grace of God we would perhaps see a part of the city that wasn't crime-ridden and didn't have imminent danger lurking around every corner. Luckily, that's exactly what happened. About 2 miles down the road from where we were, it was like the heavens opened up and angels were singing! There were amazing cobblestone streets, bridge covered canals, artistically groomed trees, and stands advertising delicious German beer everywhere. An oasis had opened up! I immediately began cursing that wench at the hostel for sending us to the only ugly part of the city!
It turned out to be a gorgeous day and even better it had been confirmed that my good friend Dan was going to be able to join us for the weekend and would be there by the end of the night. Dan was in France on business and happened to have a car for the duration of his stay so the crazy fool decided to drive 7 hours from France to Hamburg, Germany. I waited in the hostel bar for him for four hours, the whole time chatting with a Brit named Charles. After over-indulging on the delectable locally brewed beverage I couldn't wait any longer and decided to hit the hay. I fell asleep quickly.
I woke up to the sound of rustling and giggling. Apparently, Dan had come in the room and thought I was the other American guy, Derek, that we were sharing the room with! Derek has long blond hair, and the last time Dan saw me, I was a blond. So when he got in the room he saw the mass of blond splayed over the pillow, got right down in his face, and began shaking him saying "Julie! Julie! Wake up!". Derek, having been in a dead sleep, woke up to this big man shaking him and yelling my name into his face. Shari woke before I did and said "Uh, Dan... that's not Julie!". He stepped back, a little confused and a little embarrassed... "Oh, sorry man"! Luckily Derek was quite a laid back dude and rolled over and shrugged it off easily.
We explored Hamburg on Saturday, did some shopping, ate great food, drank exceptional wine and tapped into the endless variety of German beers. Dan and I went to the Red Light District, called Reeperban at around 1am. The debauchery knew no bounds... drunk people staggering everywhere and a cataclysm of yelling, laughter, and coughing from all the various forms of smoke. The main strip had glass windows with displays of scantily clad women in sheer lingerie with fuzzy red handcuffs. Every side street was lined with bars and clubs. Music poured out into the streets through their open doors. There were hookers on each corner, baring cleavage and everything else. We knew they were prostitutes because they all had fanny packs on, which I am assuming is where they kept their money. I remember as we were walking by a group of them I heard a young American lad say "dude! it's only 30 bucks for a blow job!". I bet he ended up with quite a few stories that night!
As we were making our way back to the hostel, we realised the sun was coming up. It was 6:30 and I was beat. Sunday definitely called for a late check-out. Because Dan had a car, we decided to take a day trip to the nearby city of Bremin. It was my first time on the Autobahn and it wasn't incredibly exciting. But we did get to drive quite fast!
All in all, another good trip. And even better...I got my first paycheck last week and I'm on annual leave until Thursday! Might be doing a little more traveling this week!
I miss all of my US peeps and fam!
Wednesday, 24 March 2010
Inserting thoughts into brains one child at a time!
I love the work that I do. I love what the role stands for in general. Caring for the underserved and disadvantaged populations of the world. Taking a non-judgemental stance when working with people and analyzing their big picture and empowering each and every person. Listening to the client and hearing what it is they need as opposed to what the "system" believes that they need. These are the fundamental characteristics of social work, and for the most part they are transferable from the US to the UK. Beyond those basic ideas that this work is predicated on, there is little that is the same. I have wanted for some time to write about the major differences between social work in the US and social work in the UK. Many of my colleagues and the student social workers ask me if it is very different....and the truth is, it REALLY is incredibly different.
First off social work in the UK is almost entirely associated with Child Protection. Part of the struggle in my current role, is trying to reduce the stigma that is associated with being a social worker in this country. While there is a stigma that is similar in The States, i.e. if you are a social worker, your job is to take people's children away, it is much more pronounced here. You even say the words "social worker" and you can watch people shifting their weight in their chairs and tensing up almost instantly. At one meeting, I introduced myself to about 50 parents, one of them expressed fears that I was going to "put thoughts in their child's head". As irrational as that may sound, I respect her fear as it has been fostered over many years of media vomit about the shortcomings of social service in this country. I really can't stress enough how much people genuinely HATE social workers here. Several of my schools have even asked "can we tell families that you are something other than a social worker?" I politely say "no you may not". If I wasn't called a social worker, and families actually began to trust me and realise that I am not some malevolent villain, how would the perception of social workers ever change? Not to mention I worked my a** off to get to where I am and I earned the title!
As some of you reading this may know, social work in the States is actually quite clinical... hence the title "Licensed Clinical Social Worker (LCSW)". In the States, social work is arguably the most versatile graduate degree one can have. You can work in a hospital, a prison, an outpatient clinic, a rehab, a school... the list goes on. But in each of these posts there is some level of therapeutic work going on. Particularly in schools. In every school across America, Elementary, Middle, and High School, there is a social worker doing some sort of work that at least has clinical components. Here, in the UK, there are not social workers in every school. Schools actually have to "buy" a social worker from the local government and they are not in the same school every day. They bounce from school to school, being at each only one day per week. That, of course, has it's ups and downs. I like having a different atmosphere every day, but it is incredibly difficult to sustain relationships with parents, children, and school staff when only seeing them one day a week.
Another major difference is that in the UK they have 7 different people in 7 different positions to do the job that 1 social worker does in the US. In every school they have a Home School Support Worker, a Learning Mentor, a Behaviour Support worker, an Attendance Welfare Advisor, a Special Education Needs Coordinator, a Child Protection Lead, and a school Counsellor. In the US one social worker does the jobs of all of these people. You can imagine that for families it can be frustrating to have involvement with so many different members of staff. It has been difficult for me as well, as I am trying to solidify for myself and for the schools what exactly my role is. There is so much overlap with these other workers that it can get very confusing and has sometimes left me asking the question "why did this school even ask for a social worker"?
The truth is, a social worker is really the only person out of the aforementioned group that is qualified to do all of those jobs..., and from the way that senior management has been talking lately, I think they are attempting to make a shift towards putting a social worker in every school and try to slowly get rid of some of the other positions.
Even in other positions, other than schools, social workers are basically, what we know in the US to be, glorified case managers. Basically just assessing and making outside referrals, making sure files are up to date, etc. For example, even in Community Mental Health Teams, there are many social workers, none of whom are doing any direct provision of mental health treatment, which I find quite shocking. They are basically "assistants" to the psychologists and therapists. In the US, in settings such as these, social workers and psychologists work side by side, doing the same exact therapeutic work.
I feel very fortunate to have acquired the position that I did because there is so much opportunity for autonomy and for my own interpretation of the role. I have made it very clear that mental health is my interest, and I feel certain that the schools are understanding the type of work that I am capable of doing. I actually just received a referral yesterday for a mom who is suffering from severe panic attacks and her GP (General Practitioner, aka what we know as a family doctor) is doing nothing to help her. The school, knowing my background and training, directed her to me for treatment. I am hoping that those are the sorts of things that I will continue to do within the schools, because that is what I love. And I certainly didn't go to school for six long years to be a case manager! Again, I think my previous experience played a huge part in why I was actually hired...a qualified social worker that was trained completely different from every other in this country.
Well, all of this should give you some idea of what I'm talking about when I say "It's VERY different!" And now, I must head to my wonderful job for the day and then come home and pack to get ready for GERMANY TOMORROW!!! Woot Woot!!!!
I'll be sure to let you in on all of the crazy details when I return! Happy Easter everyone, and I hope you have a great holiday weekend!
P.s. Yes Dad, relax, I will get you a damn Harley Davidson t-shirt from the motherland!
First off social work in the UK is almost entirely associated with Child Protection. Part of the struggle in my current role, is trying to reduce the stigma that is associated with being a social worker in this country. While there is a stigma that is similar in The States, i.e. if you are a social worker, your job is to take people's children away, it is much more pronounced here. You even say the words "social worker" and you can watch people shifting their weight in their chairs and tensing up almost instantly. At one meeting, I introduced myself to about 50 parents, one of them expressed fears that I was going to "put thoughts in their child's head". As irrational as that may sound, I respect her fear as it has been fostered over many years of media vomit about the shortcomings of social service in this country. I really can't stress enough how much people genuinely HATE social workers here. Several of my schools have even asked "can we tell families that you are something other than a social worker?" I politely say "no you may not". If I wasn't called a social worker, and families actually began to trust me and realise that I am not some malevolent villain, how would the perception of social workers ever change? Not to mention I worked my a** off to get to where I am and I earned the title!
As some of you reading this may know, social work in the States is actually quite clinical... hence the title "Licensed Clinical Social Worker (LCSW)". In the States, social work is arguably the most versatile graduate degree one can have. You can work in a hospital, a prison, an outpatient clinic, a rehab, a school... the list goes on. But in each of these posts there is some level of therapeutic work going on. Particularly in schools. In every school across America, Elementary, Middle, and High School, there is a social worker doing some sort of work that at least has clinical components. Here, in the UK, there are not social workers in every school. Schools actually have to "buy" a social worker from the local government and they are not in the same school every day. They bounce from school to school, being at each only one day per week. That, of course, has it's ups and downs. I like having a different atmosphere every day, but it is incredibly difficult to sustain relationships with parents, children, and school staff when only seeing them one day a week.
Another major difference is that in the UK they have 7 different people in 7 different positions to do the job that 1 social worker does in the US. In every school they have a Home School Support Worker, a Learning Mentor, a Behaviour Support worker, an Attendance Welfare Advisor, a Special Education Needs Coordinator, a Child Protection Lead, and a school Counsellor. In the US one social worker does the jobs of all of these people. You can imagine that for families it can be frustrating to have involvement with so many different members of staff. It has been difficult for me as well, as I am trying to solidify for myself and for the schools what exactly my role is. There is so much overlap with these other workers that it can get very confusing and has sometimes left me asking the question "why did this school even ask for a social worker"?
The truth is, a social worker is really the only person out of the aforementioned group that is qualified to do all of those jobs..., and from the way that senior management has been talking lately, I think they are attempting to make a shift towards putting a social worker in every school and try to slowly get rid of some of the other positions.
Even in other positions, other than schools, social workers are basically, what we know in the US to be, glorified case managers. Basically just assessing and making outside referrals, making sure files are up to date, etc. For example, even in Community Mental Health Teams, there are many social workers, none of whom are doing any direct provision of mental health treatment, which I find quite shocking. They are basically "assistants" to the psychologists and therapists. In the US, in settings such as these, social workers and psychologists work side by side, doing the same exact therapeutic work.
I feel very fortunate to have acquired the position that I did because there is so much opportunity for autonomy and for my own interpretation of the role. I have made it very clear that mental health is my interest, and I feel certain that the schools are understanding the type of work that I am capable of doing. I actually just received a referral yesterday for a mom who is suffering from severe panic attacks and her GP (General Practitioner, aka what we know as a family doctor) is doing nothing to help her. The school, knowing my background and training, directed her to me for treatment. I am hoping that those are the sorts of things that I will continue to do within the schools, because that is what I love. And I certainly didn't go to school for six long years to be a case manager! Again, I think my previous experience played a huge part in why I was actually hired...a qualified social worker that was trained completely different from every other in this country.
Well, all of this should give you some idea of what I'm talking about when I say "It's VERY different!" And now, I must head to my wonderful job for the day and then come home and pack to get ready for GERMANY TOMORROW!!! Woot Woot!!!!
I'll be sure to let you in on all of the crazy details when I return! Happy Easter everyone, and I hope you have a great holiday weekend!
P.s. Yes Dad, relax, I will get you a damn Harley Davidson t-shirt from the motherland!
Tuesday, 16 March 2010
I Love Me Some Scotts
Well Scotland is quite something! Edinburgh was one of the most beautiful cities I have seen, in my limited experience. Cobblestone streets and buildings that have seen the likes of hundreds of years, weathered and worn. Beautiful, happy people...really just a damn good time. We set off for The Calcutta Cup which is the rugby game between arch rivals, England and Scotland. I also had a separate agenda of finding the equivalent of Scottish born Gerard Butler and having him fall in love with me in under 48 hours and proposing to me in the castle....
Hmmm.... *sigh*......
I was itching to get out of work on Friday and basically bounced the whole walk home because I was so excited for my first bit of European travelling. The whole trip seemed to be defined by "just made it in the nick of time" type moments. By the time my flatmate and I left the house we realized it was too late to take the tube because we would have had to switch trains and what not. We had to take a train from Kings Cross to Luton Airport, so we decided to take a cab to the station. To our dismay, when we walked in there was a horrifically long line for tickets... and our train was going to leave in 7 minutes. Shari ran over to a rather portly, balding, worker and after just a few seconds, waved me over. After working her charms ever so cleverly, the man let us jump the line and we literally RAN down to the train and the doors closed right after we jumped on, panting from the full on sprint. We got to the airport with literally 15 minutes to spare before our flight left, and were the last ones on the plane! It was a close one all the way around...
I have heard people gush about staying at hostels for years, but have never had the experience myself. After imagining it for so long, I suppose I had morphed the concept into some sort of twilight zone experience. Well let me tell you...I wasn't that far off!
As soon as I walked in the door of Castle Rock Hostel (voted number 10 in the world) I fell in love. Suits of armor populate the corners and funky pictures of castle-esque themes adorn the walls. And the people are incredible and are all there for the same purpose. Because they are young, love to travel, experience new things, and have a lets get crunk kinda time.
So basically... it's college life, frozen in these little accommodations all over the world. And it is fan-freaking-tastic!
This was how night #1 went....
We went out shortly after arriving and made our way down to a stretch of pubs on a street below the hostel. Some French men joined our table and chatted with us for a good hour or two. They also were in town because of the Rugby game and 16 of them had traveled to Edinburgh for their friends bachelor party (whom they managed to pressure into wearing a kilt the entire time). They also pretty much saved our entire weekend by informing us that the game was actually on Saturday, as opposed to Sunday like we thought. WOW. That could have been TRAGIC. Thank God for the Frenchmen!
We then travelled down the lane to Biddy Mulligans, which we became "regulars" at in just a short weekend. Several pints and a jagerbomb later, I remember a strange young man with a bic'd head, his older awkward friend, and the whole pub breaking out into song every ten minutes. Scottish people LOVE to sing... they sing all the time, in unison. It was one of my favorite things about Edinburgh.
Back at the hostel, Shari was talking to the front desk guy (she has been at this hostel before) and I made my way to the Great Room. Think of it as a student lounge in college....aka the most freaking fun you could ever possibly have. It was like a straight shot of "youth" mainlined into the crick of my arm. I found my way to the nearest couch where a bunch of people were just hanging out. Met some guys from Romania and Spain... who were pretty cool... at least i think they were. I know we talked about my motorcycle, each others homelands, and what brought us to the hostel. At the young hour of...oh, hmmm.... about 5AM I finally crawled up to bed and didn't have to wait long for slumber to find me.
Day #2:
Went back to Biddy Mulligans for breakfast (bangin omelets). I wasn't moving too fast because I over did it on the "fun" the night before. Explored some cute shops picked up a souvenir or two, including my beloved travel gnome key chain which ended up being stolen from a bathroom (long story). Then we caught a bus and made our way to Murrayfield stadium for the gameeee!!
On the top of a double decker bus, we got the birds eye view of tens of thousands of people... half of them who were men in kilts... all making their way towards the stadium. Just like the Pats game we went to...the seats were FAB!
I had been praying all day that this would be the day I met my Gerard look-a-like...and while we were walking to our seats, I happened to catch the eye of the man I would be sitting next to. And he...he was....about the farthest from Gerard Butler one could get :( . Not even remotely close to Gerard. He was basically the complete and total opposite of him. What could have been my future husband, was actually five rows down from me, but because the universe hates my life, it wasn't destined to be. The only good part about sitting next to him was that he gave me his Scottish hat, and offered to buy me a drink. However, he came back with no drinks because he said the Police arrested him outside because they thought he was someone else. Riiiggghhhtttt. As Shari called him... "dodgy" very "dodgy". Unattractive AND a potential criminal, sweet! I was then harassed for my phone number and to have a drink with him after the game...luckily with some slick maneuvers I was able to escape that little scenario.
The game itself was rather boring as far as rugby games go. And even more anticlimactic was the fact that no one won. It was a tie! But the experience was phenomenal in itself. Hearing 60,000 Scottish people sing in unison, several times was pretty awesome. I really like the sport and hope to get more into it in my time here. After the game, went and had some Italian, then went back and passed out cold because my body said I wasn't allowed two nights in a row of all that fun.
Day # 3
Spent all day exploring the city. Architecturally breathtaking, with views of castles on every street and just a really cool old-world feel. One of those places where the structures seem to tell a story of the years gone by.
I was dreading the overnight bus trip back to London that left at 10pm. I'm not the type of individual that finds it easy to sleep on public transportation. So I thought it was a fantastic idea to do a pub crawl in order to make myself "drowsy" enough to sleep. Fast forward through six Scottish pubs later and I'm trailing behind Shari, backpack in tow, late for our bus, singing the "I would walk 500 miles" song in a poorly imitated Scottish accent the whole way.
Needless to say, I did sleep on the bus. Pretty much for the entire 10 hour ride. Arrived back in London at nearly 8am, managed to run home, shower and run to work by about 9:30. That was not a pleasant day.
So all in all, BOMB weekend. SO fun!! I am a traveller to my core and intend on doing a whole lot more of it!
Stay tuned for more adventures...and hopefully soon to come...another update on the job!
Monday, 8 March 2010
School Is Too Cool.
Those who know me well know that I've had my share of ups and downs. My downs were pretty far down. In fact they were comparable to living with Lucifer himself. I'd like to think that I learn from my mistakes, and if that's true... after a good solid 7 or 8 years straight of nothing but mistakes, theoretically, I could be the next edition of a Britannica Encyclopedia set with all of that knowledge. I fully believe that some wounds run too deep for time to mend. I've done so many things wrong in my life, and there are times when I look back on all those years and my heart gets heavy and I think "What would my Mom have thought of the person I was?" The weight of that is almost too much to bear, and I have to swallow hard to push the guilt back down.
There is one thing that negates my near-decade of faults and fumbles...and that is my education. Each year that goes by I value my education more and more. It is a powerful tool in the sense that even when I feel stripped and vulnerable, it serves as an impenatrable, untouchable sheild. And for me, it is the one thing that erases all of my wrongs, and I know with every fiber of my soul that if there is only one thing I did right... it was that. Even moreso, if there is one thing my Mom can be proud of me for, it is my six years of higher education. My heart is at peace when I think of such things.
My education acted as it's own entity, my own saving grace that plucked me from the wrong path and steered me toward the right one. My education brought me here. All of this is so clear to me now, being here in London, with this incredible job...living a life that I once thought could only be fantasy. I haven't even really started full force into the work in schools yet, but this job is everything I could have ever dreamed of for my career. I am so lucky and so blessed and I thank God every day.
Forgive how whimsical this all my sound, but the experience I am having in these last two weeks is like no other. It's like a convergence of the totalities of my life experience, meeting all in an East corner of London, known as the Isle of Dogs. I am so so so happy. And while I miss my dear friends and family back in the States....something about this feels inherently...right.
I will continue to update about actual, real details of the job....but I just had to get the mushy "I love my life" stuff out of the way. Thanks for following along, and I hope all of you are well!
Until next time, you stay classy ______ (insert name of city you occupy)!!!
There is one thing that negates my near-decade of faults and fumbles...and that is my education. Each year that goes by I value my education more and more. It is a powerful tool in the sense that even when I feel stripped and vulnerable, it serves as an impenatrable, untouchable sheild. And for me, it is the one thing that erases all of my wrongs, and I know with every fiber of my soul that if there is only one thing I did right... it was that. Even moreso, if there is one thing my Mom can be proud of me for, it is my six years of higher education. My heart is at peace when I think of such things.
My education acted as it's own entity, my own saving grace that plucked me from the wrong path and steered me toward the right one. My education brought me here. All of this is so clear to me now, being here in London, with this incredible job...living a life that I once thought could only be fantasy. I haven't even really started full force into the work in schools yet, but this job is everything I could have ever dreamed of for my career. I am so lucky and so blessed and I thank God every day.
Forgive how whimsical this all my sound, but the experience I am having in these last two weeks is like no other. It's like a convergence of the totalities of my life experience, meeting all in an East corner of London, known as the Isle of Dogs. I am so so so happy. And while I miss my dear friends and family back in the States....something about this feels inherently...right.
I will continue to update about actual, real details of the job....but I just had to get the mushy "I love my life" stuff out of the way. Thanks for following along, and I hope all of you are well!
Until next time, you stay classy ______ (insert name of city you occupy)!!!
Saturday, 27 February 2010
Blogging May Now Resume
My, my, it has been quite some time since my last entry. In the almost three month hiatus from this blog, I traveled back to the states to obtain the ever-elusive "Working Visa/Permit". In retrospect, it would have been easier to wrestle a grizzly bear to its death than to get legal immigration status. But there has been enough time wasted on that stupid Visa so I don't care to say another word about it....
Lets talk about this fabulous new job of mine! Oh. My. Gosh. Greatest job in the entire world! I just finished my first week and while my elation is mirrored with exhaustion, all in all it made me realize how lucky I am to live the life I lead.
So just as a reminder, my job is through the London borough of Tower Hamlets Children and Families Directorate. My (very) official title is "Extended Schools Social Worker". I am working within 4-5 different primary schools, each one on a different day of the week, doing assessment and intervention with students and their families. However, this role is very different than any school social work position I have seen in the States or elsewhere for that matter. The key focus of this position is on early intervention and prevention. So I'll be doing early intervention work with kids who have family dysfunction, behavioral issues, family substance abuse problems, acculturation issues, mental health diagnoses, self-harm, potential for sexual exploitation, learning disabilities, socialization problems....the list goes on, you get the idea. But yeah, the key is that I would be the first contact when any of these things first get noticed or red-flagged in a child....I would not be working with kids who have a long standing history with social services, as that is clearly not "early intervention".
So let me paint you a picture... I wake up on my first day of my first job which is essentially launching my career...in a different country... and I am....surprisingly calm. I feel collected and poised ready for what London had to throw at me. I manage to wiggle my way on to the sardine can that poses as a train in the 8-9am rush hour in London's busiest banking hub. (*Note* I won't mention that many unnecessary hours of traveling and nearly £10 later, I was politely shown by a coworker a way to walk to work from my very doorstep in under 15 minutes instead of joining the mass of suits on the sardine can every rush hour that would take up to a half hour one way.... but hey, what do they want from me? I am an immigrant!) Since I am continuously bouncing from school to school, I am actually based out of the Town Hall, aka Mulberry Place. This is where my bosses are, where team meetings are held, and where some of the other social workers in the team come to do paperwork.
When I walked in it was not what I was expecting. It was all rather corporate, each floor set up in the same identical square with groups of four or five computer desks clustered together, snaking the entire way around. The monotonous drone of printers and copy machines filled the room and the clickity clack of 9 inch high heel shoes started to sound like something out of a Gene Kelly Broadway production. The entire floor is the various teams that make up Children's Services. What I want to know is what are professionals who work with children doing in 9 inch stripper heels?? These women are out of their mind! Does shoe fashion know no boundaries, or morals for that matter, in this country?
But I digress...I managed to find the "Extended Schools" corner amidst the chatter of the morning settle. Both of my team managers are delightful...Vrinda, who interviewed me and consequently hired me, is so very dedicated to the concept and role of extended schools social work. Her tireless hours of shaping and molding this program over the last five years now show in the slight circles under her eyes. Sharon, the other newly hired team manager is one of those constantly-busting-your-balls type in the jolly way that makes the workplace all the more casual especially when someone else other than me is the target of her wit and playful sarcasm. I learned quickly that if I want to get any work done, I can't sit within 20 feet of her because her boisterous laugh is infectious and I am easily roped into her prattle.
Everyone was very welcoming and right away I just got that intuitive feeling that has happened to me on a few other occasions in my life. A metaphysical experience that tells me, by the powers at be, I am exactly where I am supposed to be the exact moment I am supposed to be there. So with every procedure read, with every induction meeting I had, I could feel myself breathing in contentment and swimming in complete happiness after what will prove to be one of the most challenging periods of my life.
Most of the first few days revolved around reading policies and procedures, getting trained on their database and intranet and really getting a feel for what exactly the role of extended schools social worker is. A lot of time is also spent trying to fill in the gaps between the American way of doing things in this field and the English way of doing things...especially when it comes to child protection (CP). And while I shouldn't be dealing with that often, it is bound to come into play here and there. And man oh man can they get crazy about child protection stuff here! Ever since Baby Pete died the whole country is up in arms about CP... everywhere you go it's Baby Pete this and Baby Pete that... good grief, it gives me anxiety! While I realize it was tragic and sad, Baby Pete is gone for goodness sake, so lets not focus on dead babies but the ones who are still living and need help! (If your interested just go to google and literally type in Baby Pete).
But the best part of the week by far was when I got to visit 2 of the schools that I will be working in. My start dates at the school haven't been solidified yet so it was just an informal meeting with the Head Teachers...whom we in the States know as Principals...to introduce myself. Both meetings were absolutely fantastic. Both of the Head Teachers seemed to be so dedicated and honestly beaming with excitement and enthusiasm of having a social worker in their school. It was great to talk about how flexible my role could be and that really I would become whatever the school needed me to become based on the most pervasive needs an issues.
Architecturally, the schools are quite interesting. Nothing like the schools in the States with long corridors and classrooms all running parallel to each other. Here the rooms are scattered all about and vary greatly in size and shape. Hallways are narrow and winding with a step or two here and there. All of the walls, ceilings and floors are a barrage of colors and every child is in a uniform. One little girl approached me and asked me my name, at which time she told me "Julie is a cool name", and then showed me a picture she had just drawn. She very excitedly was pointing to my face and practically shouted " Hey! Hey! Look Miss Julie, the girl in my picture has the sparkly thing on her nose too, just like you!!!" (referring to my nose ring). I was beside myself with amusement at this precocious little girl.
I am super excited to be working with such diverse populations as well. One of the schools is made up of 90% Bengali (Bangladesh) students and the rest Somalian. That school in particular has about 230 students, only 6 of which are Caucasian. But this isn't surprising considering that it is about as "inner city" as it gets and deprivation runs rampant. Working with families who are having difficulty adapting to the new culture they are living in will also be part of my job description so that should give you some idea of just how multi-faceted this position really is.
I could go on for days about how much I love it and how excited I am to hurl myself right into the thick of it and get going. But I probably have gone on too long as it is. So in closing, I couldn't possibly have had a better inaugural week and look forward to whats to come and what I can do with this position. My goal is to update this each week, to capture my work experience, and of course all of my experiences living here as an American expat.
Stay tuned and keep on keepin on! Peace and Love my friends!
Lets talk about this fabulous new job of mine! Oh. My. Gosh. Greatest job in the entire world! I just finished my first week and while my elation is mirrored with exhaustion, all in all it made me realize how lucky I am to live the life I lead.
So just as a reminder, my job is through the London borough of Tower Hamlets Children and Families Directorate. My (very) official title is "Extended Schools Social Worker". I am working within 4-5 different primary schools, each one on a different day of the week, doing assessment and intervention with students and their families. However, this role is very different than any school social work position I have seen in the States or elsewhere for that matter. The key focus of this position is on early intervention and prevention. So I'll be doing early intervention work with kids who have family dysfunction, behavioral issues, family substance abuse problems, acculturation issues, mental health diagnoses, self-harm, potential for sexual exploitation, learning disabilities, socialization problems....the list goes on, you get the idea. But yeah, the key is that I would be the first contact when any of these things first get noticed or red-flagged in a child....I would not be working with kids who have a long standing history with social services, as that is clearly not "early intervention".
So let me paint you a picture... I wake up on my first day of my first job which is essentially launching my career...in a different country... and I am....surprisingly calm. I feel collected and poised ready for what London had to throw at me. I manage to wiggle my way on to the sardine can that poses as a train in the 8-9am rush hour in London's busiest banking hub. (*Note* I won't mention that many unnecessary hours of traveling and nearly £10 later, I was politely shown by a coworker a way to walk to work from my very doorstep in under 15 minutes instead of joining the mass of suits on the sardine can every rush hour that would take up to a half hour one way.... but hey, what do they want from me? I am an immigrant!) Since I am continuously bouncing from school to school, I am actually based out of the Town Hall, aka Mulberry Place. This is where my bosses are, where team meetings are held, and where some of the other social workers in the team come to do paperwork.
When I walked in it was not what I was expecting. It was all rather corporate, each floor set up in the same identical square with groups of four or five computer desks clustered together, snaking the entire way around. The monotonous drone of printers and copy machines filled the room and the clickity clack of 9 inch high heel shoes started to sound like something out of a Gene Kelly Broadway production. The entire floor is the various teams that make up Children's Services. What I want to know is what are professionals who work with children doing in 9 inch stripper heels?? These women are out of their mind! Does shoe fashion know no boundaries, or morals for that matter, in this country?
But I digress...I managed to find the "Extended Schools" corner amidst the chatter of the morning settle. Both of my team managers are delightful...Vrinda, who interviewed me and consequently hired me, is so very dedicated to the concept and role of extended schools social work. Her tireless hours of shaping and molding this program over the last five years now show in the slight circles under her eyes. Sharon, the other newly hired team manager is one of those constantly-busting-your-balls type in the jolly way that makes the workplace all the more casual especially when someone else other than me is the target of her wit and playful sarcasm. I learned quickly that if I want to get any work done, I can't sit within 20 feet of her because her boisterous laugh is infectious and I am easily roped into her prattle.
Everyone was very welcoming and right away I just got that intuitive feeling that has happened to me on a few other occasions in my life. A metaphysical experience that tells me, by the powers at be, I am exactly where I am supposed to be the exact moment I am supposed to be there. So with every procedure read, with every induction meeting I had, I could feel myself breathing in contentment and swimming in complete happiness after what will prove to be one of the most challenging periods of my life.
Most of the first few days revolved around reading policies and procedures, getting trained on their database and intranet and really getting a feel for what exactly the role of extended schools social worker is. A lot of time is also spent trying to fill in the gaps between the American way of doing things in this field and the English way of doing things...especially when it comes to child protection (CP). And while I shouldn't be dealing with that often, it is bound to come into play here and there. And man oh man can they get crazy about child protection stuff here! Ever since Baby Pete died the whole country is up in arms about CP... everywhere you go it's Baby Pete this and Baby Pete that... good grief, it gives me anxiety! While I realize it was tragic and sad, Baby Pete is gone for goodness sake, so lets not focus on dead babies but the ones who are still living and need help! (If your interested just go to google and literally type in Baby Pete).
But the best part of the week by far was when I got to visit 2 of the schools that I will be working in. My start dates at the school haven't been solidified yet so it was just an informal meeting with the Head Teachers...whom we in the States know as Principals...to introduce myself. Both meetings were absolutely fantastic. Both of the Head Teachers seemed to be so dedicated and honestly beaming with excitement and enthusiasm of having a social worker in their school. It was great to talk about how flexible my role could be and that really I would become whatever the school needed me to become based on the most pervasive needs an issues.
Architecturally, the schools are quite interesting. Nothing like the schools in the States with long corridors and classrooms all running parallel to each other. Here the rooms are scattered all about and vary greatly in size and shape. Hallways are narrow and winding with a step or two here and there. All of the walls, ceilings and floors are a barrage of colors and every child is in a uniform. One little girl approached me and asked me my name, at which time she told me "Julie is a cool name", and then showed me a picture she had just drawn. She very excitedly was pointing to my face and practically shouted " Hey! Hey! Look Miss Julie, the girl in my picture has the sparkly thing on her nose too, just like you!!!" (referring to my nose ring). I was beside myself with amusement at this precocious little girl.
I am super excited to be working with such diverse populations as well. One of the schools is made up of 90% Bengali (Bangladesh) students and the rest Somalian. That school in particular has about 230 students, only 6 of which are Caucasian. But this isn't surprising considering that it is about as "inner city" as it gets and deprivation runs rampant. Working with families who are having difficulty adapting to the new culture they are living in will also be part of my job description so that should give you some idea of just how multi-faceted this position really is.
I could go on for days about how much I love it and how excited I am to hurl myself right into the thick of it and get going. But I probably have gone on too long as it is. So in closing, I couldn't possibly have had a better inaugural week and look forward to whats to come and what I can do with this position. My goal is to update this each week, to capture my work experience, and of course all of my experiences living here as an American expat.
Stay tuned and keep on keepin on! Peace and Love my friends!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
