For every season turn turn

Hello, Spring. I never thought you'd get here.

I feel like skipping through the streets with unfettered joy at the blue skies, hot air, flowering trees, and friendly breezes. I feel like because of the harsh Winter people are just going to be crazy as Spring continues to spread. Good crazy or bad crazy? I'm not sure, only Spring can tell!

Saturday I took a long run/walk around the Capitol and then through Eastern Market for some lunch and flowers.

Sunday I went with the roommate to church for Easter and then out on a few errands.The church service ended with the Hallelujah chorus from Handel's Messiah. I think every day should start with the Hallelujah chorus and warm weather.

Right back where I started from

Apologies as usual for not writing sooner/more often. I’ll be better this year, promise.

I’ve been back in London for a week now. It was great to get away, but it’s also nice to be back.

Christmas at home was AMAZING. Nothing spectacular or exciting, just home. Which in itself can be pretty spectacular and exciting when you’ve been away for four months. Christmas was like it always is, which is exactly what I expected and wanted. Same traditions, same food, same feelings. I knew as soon as I walked into my house that I had made the right decision, that the number on the credit card statement pales in comparison to everything else. In addition to all of the wonderful aspects of being with my family in my house, I also got Bojangles biscuits, Pizza Inn, and El Rodeo. I got to spend a perfect night in Chapel Hill with my friends, and got to re-connect with an old friend at home. I got to see Anderson and CNN and part of a “My Super Sweet Sixteen” marathon on MTV. (I think they knew I was coming home.) I shopped at Target and got a caramel apple cider from Starbucks – in Goldsboro. I soaked up the Southern accent to the point that I am still drawling. (And being teased mercilessly at work for it.) I got to sleep in my bed, which truly is the softest place on Earth – at least compared to the bed here. (I felt like I slept on air my first night.) I got to watch 1 ½ Carolina basketball games. I got hugs. But most of all, after a month of not being that happy, of being exhausted and frustrated and confused, I got to re-charge, got to get back to a part of myself that I didn’t realize I was missing.

And that was my Christmas.

I got back on the 30th, and spent New Year’s Eve at a flat party in Bayswater with my flatmates. No watching fireworks at Big Ben or any other tourist things, does this make me a real Londoner? No, probably just made me smart and warm. I’ve never really been out on New Year’s before and it was a lot of fun. Free drinks made by someone who actually knows how to make drinks, lots of picture taking by the roommate and I while waiting for the clock to strike midnight, lots of being ignored by the people at the party, as they were all older and married. (Not as bad as it sounds – we made our own fun. And it was interesting and a learning experience to say the least.) At midnight I got my New Year’s kisses from several people – all of the European kiss-kiss kind. And then, in a very nice and embarrassing gesture, everyone sang “Happy Birthday” to me. It was nice of Marissa to tell the guy throwing the party, and nice of him to make everyone sing to me, but embarrassing because I just don’t like attention like that. But mostly it was a nice thing. J So 23 started with kisses on the cheek, champagne, a little dancing, and French fries at 2 a.m. at a Halal restaurant on the way to the tube. What this means in ways of prediction for 2007, not sure. But I look forward to finding out.

And that was my New Year’s.

The first day of my 23rd year was uneventful. Seriously. Finally letting the jet lag get to me, I stayed in out of the cold and rain, watched “The Little Mermaid” with the roommate, and then had birthday cupcakes, courtesy of Marissa, and then birthday Nutella and Pandora, courtesy of the flatmate Angelo. It was a good birthday and I have no regrets about how my year has started. It was weird not being home for my birthday, watching the Rose Parade, taking lots of calls from family, but it was still nice. And I did get my family birthday before I left, complete with “Breakfast at Tiffany’s” themed décor and yellow cake with chocolate frosting. I always seem to end up with more birthday cakes then I know what to do with, and this year was no different. I’m still not happy about turning 23, for starters I don’t like odd numbers, and I just am not ready to be another year older. But I guess all in all 22 wasn’t a bad year, lots of changes, that’s for sure, but a lot of good things as well. So hopefully 23 will be alright as well.

And that was my birthday.

Life started again on the 2nd, or at least the semblance of a life I have here. Back to work, though work, and pretty much all of London this week, has been pretty dead. Apparently they’ve had a record number of office workers taking holiday or calling in sick. Work still managed to be stressful at times, but still a little too slow for my taste and I’m hoping things will be closer to normal this week.

This week was perhaps my most trying week here, however, as the SALES have started. Every store window declares, in hot pink, green, and of course, RED, 50% off, 75% off, LAST CHANCE. Every store I pass on Oxford Street – to and from work and on my lunch break – pulls at my self-control, and debit card. So far I think I have done very well. I’ve only bought stuff I will really wear, and got some really good deals in the process.

This weekend I was out and about in London in a way I haven’t done in awhile. I went to Hammersmith on Saturday morning, and then Canary Wharf in the afternoon. I went to the Docklands Museum first, and then sat at a Starbucks in Jubilee Place and wrote.

The Docklands Museum covered the history of the Docklands of London – bet you couldn’t have guessed that – from when it was the Roman port of Londinium to now, with the DLR and rejuvenation of Canary Wharf. It was very well put-together with lots of interesting pictures and artifacts. The artifacts were especially amazing, as they were real objects, no replicas. I love seeing a Viking axe that they just happened upon while excavating in Covent Garden in 1984! They had a jawbone from a whale – twice my height! I think I started at it for five minutes.

The exhibit that I liked the most, however, and the reason for journeying to the museum in the first place, was on Jamestown. It was actually smaller than I had expected, but had lots of artifacts from Jamestown and interesting facts I did not know. For instance, I never knew that orphaned children from England were sent to the colony as servants. They had real tobacco in a barrel at one part of the exhibit. Mom made fun of me when I told her it made me think of home. She’s right, we may live in the country but it’s not like I’m around cured tobacco – ever. But for some reason the smell sent me instantly back home.

My favorite part of the museum was a map labeled “the Southern part of Virginia.” In actuality, it’s North Carolina, turned on its side, so the Outer Banks are at the bottom, but still, it was North Carolina. Cape Fear and Cape Hatteras, as well as Roanoke Island were labeled. There were drawings of animals along the Eastern part of the state – apparently lions roamed wild around the Wilmington area! J Instead of the Atlantic Ocean – it was called the “Southern Virginia Sea.” And the area around Beaufort was simply described with “this is a swampy wilderness.” I think I studied the map for 10 minutes, and then came back two more times before leaving it. It was very well drawn, in colored pencil, and very detailed in its rendering of the Outer Banks and various inlets. The map made it worth the long tube ride to Canary Wharf, and the even longer walk, in the cold, bitter, wind and rain from the tube station to the museum.

Sunday I went to church and then sat in a coffee shop and read. I think I may have finally found a coffee shop that I can read in and feel at ease, relaxed, and just good. It’s the Café Nero on the second floor of Paperchase on Tottenham Court Road. It’s close to church, work, and only about a 30 minute walk from my flat, and it only took me four months to find a place to chill and read and write in!

And that was my weekend. As usual it was too short, but I feel good about the week ahead, and that hasn’t happened in awhile.

Bonnie's Brighton Beach Memoirs

Brighton was a pleasant break from the hustle and bustle of London. I hadn’t realized how tiresome I was getting of the constant crowds, noise, and busyness until I got away from it for a bit. But it is good to be back.

The busride was uneventful. I got a window seat on the top deck, with an empty seat beside me to stretch out. I had the same luck on the ride back, only that time with no one in front of me so I was free to sit in my preferred way of scrunched down with my knees propped against the seat in front of me.

I liked Brighton, even in, according to my guide book, “it’s sea-side tackiness.” The pier was typical of beach-front piers, I suppose, but it seemed more old-fashioned to me for some reason. Detailed edging and embellishments, long lines of benches, and the free deck chairs along the railings. Right away we did as Jill suggested and bought “American style” doughnuts. 3 for £1.30 and worth every pence. Warm and sugary treats that melted in your mouth. The warm was especially important as it was overcast all day, and windy. After exploring the pier, and being disappointed that a go on the carousel would cost £2, we headed for the beach.

I had never been to a beach that wasn’t white sand, and I was enamored of the sheer quantity of the pebbles, and their smoothness. I liked that I sat on them for awhile before they became uncomfortable. And just as it used to intrigue me when I was younger, digging to no avail at Atlantic Beach to reach the bottom, the same was true of the pebble beach. Though pebbles are much harder to dig through than sand.

I decided to be brave and take off my socks and shoes and literally dip my feet into the other side of the pond. I honestly can’t remember if the water was really old or not, because as I was trying to take a picture of my feet in it, the water came whooshing up and soaked the bottom of my jeans. After that, however, the water was cold!

We then found a stand selling cheap fish and chips. As much as I want to be British and eat the fish, I just can’t. Even the smell makes me nauseous, so I opted for a hot dog and chips for the same price. But it was more like a sausage dog, only with an odd odor and taste, though I did eat the whole thing. There is something about paying double for all my food that makes me eat it all no matter how much I don’t want to.

It was then back to the pier for a bit, where I tried my hand at some dumb 2p game in the loud, but warm, gaming hall. Kids were trying desperately to win at the claw game, as fruitlessly here as it is back home, or at the game I tried, where you drop a coin and it falls onto a rack with other coins, hopefully to fall off the rack and onto the big pile, thus pushing the “riches” through the slot to you. It would take a lot of the 2p coins, however, to constitute riches.

On the way check out the shopping district, we stopped to gawk at the Royal Pavilion, a palace that looks like it was taken out of India and dropped in the south of England. I was really impressed with the structure, even though a good portion of it was under construction, and took lots of pictures. I didn’t go inside though. For some reason I’m not big on the inside of palaces, they always seem too cold and un-homey. Lots of gold and high backed chairs and tapestry just doesn’t scream “Come in, sit down, eat and relax.” More like, “Wipe your feet and don’t touch anything.” I much prefer a simple two-story grey house on a quiet street in the South if the latter was to ever be an option.

We then made it to the Lanes, a truly confusing series of streets of shops that transported me back to Venice, being crammed against other people, never seeing the same place twice, and of course, claustrophobia raging. I did however come across an “Ollie and Nic.” Last year I bought a pink Ollie and Nic wallet at a TJ Maxx in Salisbury for £10. I knew I was getting a good deal because it was real leather and oh so cute, but I didn’t realize just how good of a deal until I went in there store. Far too expensive for my taste. Ok, not my taste, but certainly my wallet.

After deciding most of the stores were too much for our wallet, and not really in the mood for browsing, we headed back to the seaside, bought some of Brighton’s famous rock candy, not at all the kind of rock candy I was expecting, which is good since I don’t like that kind, and then into some cute, and some tacky, shops. By the time my bus was leaving at 5 I was entirely too exhausted for the day, and glad to be headed back for London. The way back seemed to afford better English countryside scenery as well, including English sheep! I don’t know why, but I find something quintessentially British about green hills and sheep. But especially the sheep. I remember seeing them last year on the way to the Midlands and just exclaiming in my head, “English sheep! English sheep!” It may have something to do with the fact that two of the first, and everlasting impressions of the British countryside that I still refer back to are from “Three Men and a Little Lady” and “Four Weddings and a Funeral”, and I’m almost certain at least one of them had sheep in it.

I feel like I don’t even have to bother mentioning Sundays as it’s a pretty set routine. Church, lunch, relax. Although this Sunday Marissa and I did finally join the local library. The one in Marylebone is the closest, but also rather small. I still did check out two books, but I am refusing to read them until I have finished the last two of the six I bought here. Yes, believe it or not, I am actually going to read all the books I bought before moving on to others. I think that is unheard of for me! But after the library I read in Regent’s Park for a little, but despite the sun being out and blue skies, the wind was enough to drive me back to my flat where I settled on the couch for far too long with Amy Tan’s “Saving Fish from Drowning,” a really interesting, though different, read thus far.

I'm now at work, waiting for it to be my turn for my lunch, mad that I left my leftover spaghetti at home and will have to buy something. Monday, Monday...

Everybody's working for the weekend

My weekend was fairly relaxing, but not boring. I got up Saturday to do a few errands and, after Mom demanded it, spend a little money frivolousy. So I went to Dorothy Perkins, where the already cheaply priced store was having a sale, and bought two headbands and a shirt. Later I would spend a little more frivoulousy and buy three books at Border’s for the price of two. I am a crazy woman!

So after the brief shopping excursion, I headed to Canary Wharf to walk around a bit. I wasn’t that impressed, it was quite Americanized I thought, complete with a mall, but I took a few pictures and then took the DLR to Greenwich. The plan was to meet up with some of the young adults from church, but it turned out to just be me and the associate pastor. I really appreciated him coming along and not cancelling because it was just me, and it was good to just talk to someone one-on-one. I really liked Greenwich, it’s a quaint little area that doesn’t really feel like you’re even in London. We walked past massive maritime museum, and through what used to be one of the Queen’s houses, and headed up the steep hill to the observatory where I stood on the Prime Meridian. I was surprised to enter the observatory gates and have it right there, just out in the open. I don’t know if I expected it to be under glass or armored guards or what. But it was nice to see and stand on something I used to study about in school.

We then made our way through the exhibits, lots and lots of clocks, all set to Greenwich time of course, which my watch was almost in sync with. It was a good outing though and the view of London from the observatory was beautiful. I could see the rainclouds rolling in, and the city looked so small and un-intimidating, it was nice. I remember thinking the same thing last year when I saw London from the Eye. It wasn’t like standing at the top of the Empire State Building and feeling dwarfed and overwhelmed by the city below, it just felt good.

After Greenwich I headed to Oxford Street and Borders, where I spent close to an hour deciding on what three books I wanted. I finally decided on “Wicked” by Gregory Maguire, “Saving Fish from Drowning” by Amy Tan, and “The Year of Magical Thinking” by Joan Didion. I’m working on “Wicked” right now, which is different from the musical, a bit heavier, but I like it. My goal was to read 50 books this year, but as this is only my 23rd I’m not sure I’ll make it. But it’s still nice to try.

Sunday I got up for church, it was rainy and cold but nice to get out. After church, while walking back home down Tottenham Court Road, I came across what may be one of the most wonderfully perfect stores ever made: Paperchase. A whole store full of journals, notebooks, pens, pencils, calendars, planners, and other little stationary supplies. Yes, in case you didn’t realize it before, I’m a dork, but those kinds of things make me happy and it is about the simple things in life after all. I consider it a testament to my strong will, or my incredibly picky nature, especially when it comes to journals, that I left the store with only one journal, one pen, and one pencil. And I really needed all three things, honestly. I seriously can’t wait to have an excuse to go back. So if anyone wants a journal, I will gladly pick one out for you. I mean you’ll have to pay me of course, but it will be worth it, promise.

So after settling on a new journal to use for the remainder of the year, and picking up some hummus and pita bread, I got caught in the cold, hard rain heading back to my flat. It was windy and just miserable, plus I was wearing a skirt and no-traction flats, so once I finally made it back to my flat, after wrestling with my inside-out umbrella several times, I settled in for the day with my book, blanket, and newly heated room. (Newly heated because we just turned the radiators on. Cozy is the word of the day.)

Even though Marissa and I weren’t able to continue our Sunday tradition of relaxing in Hyde Park, I had a good, productive, and relaxing weekend. As it is getting colder, this weekend I probably will head out to a museum. There is a Da Vinci exhibit at Victoria and Albert, and a Rodin exhibit at the Royal Academy I may check out. There is also an exhibit at one museum full of Tiffany jewels I really want to check out, so we’ll see what happens.

First week of work = dead tired. I am just not cut out for a 9 – 6 day, it’s completely unnatural. I’m beginning to learn my way around the office, remember some of the names, hit the right buttons on the phone. I haven’t hung up on anyone or transferred anyone to the wrong person, like I did a lot of this summer, especially the hanging up part, so that’s good. It’s still hard some days because I feel like I should be doing more, but I know it’s not forever. A hard part is remembering names, since I’m terrible at that, and getting people to tell me their names when they say stuff like, “Leaving for a bit, let so and so know.” First, I don’t know who you are, I don’t know who so and so is, and I don’t think so and so is going to understand who I’m talking about when I say the guy in the striped shirt and perfectly creased pants just left. (Sidenote: Seriously, how do people get their pants creased so perfectly? Is there some trick no one’s ever told me because I can never get it right.) Other than that, it’s a lot of small stuff to remember and get done that will take time, and since I am not exactly known for my patience, it’s frustrating.

Took pictures of the flat just have to get them uploaded. Will do soon.

Sunday I finally made it out to a church, the American Church in London. It’s American style of worship, with a lot of Americans in attendance, but also has quite a few British people and other internationals. I really really liked it there and will definitely be going back. And file this under it really is a small world. The associate pastor, who came and introduced himself before the service, went to Duke Divinity and knows someone I know from BSU. He also worked at a church in Chapel Hill that I went to once, and I am almost certain I met him there. The reason I think this is today, before he came up,I thought, “Hey, that guy looks like Eric Montross.” and I remember thinking that the time before. I stayed after the service as they happened to be having a newcomers lunch, got some free chicken and potatoes and bread, and met some nice people. There were also two British teenaged girls who were completely enamored of me and this other girl because we are American. They asked us all these questions, about if the stuff they see in the movies is true, like about prom, big houses, and high heels. And they loved our accents, which is so weird. It was so cute and I told them to see me next weekend if they had anymore questions.

This week I have been struck more than anything, yet again, by British food. Sometimes I feel like it all might as well be in another language when I’m shopping and I have the hardest time finding exactly what I want. Some random observations (that may apply just to my local supermarket, Somerfields):
-They have a whole section of shelves for varieties of mayonnaise, but only ONE kind of mustard. ONE. And it’s not French’s.
-Fish is everywhere. Maybe it’s like that in the states and I just never really noticed, but here I definitely noticed when in my fruitless (and in vain, I know,) search for pizza rolls left me empty-handed.
-They have chicken nuggets marketed as “Southern-fried.” Unless the southern UK is known for their chicken frying talents, which they very well may be, I can’t help but smile. Though I have not been brave enough to try it yet.
-I can buy a thing of spaghetti for 17p. That’s just awesome. And it’s good.
-I just realized I have yet to buy any Nutella and that is just a travesty.

So yes, right now I really am missing American food. But the plentiful and free biscuits (biscuits=cookies) at work help ease the pain. But really, I eat way too many, but who can resist free McVitties or Kit Kats?