liljaysmom-blog

[liljaysmom-blog]

Not enough luggage

All of our readings, theater experiences, and discussions over the past three weeks have contributed to the metaphorical suitcase that I’ll be taking home with me in a couple of days.  It will be difficult to unpack and to figure out where all of its contents should go.  No matter where I go or for what reason, I am continuously learning that I have so much to learn, and that having expectations are somewhat useless (with some exceptions, of course).  Our discussions about how we define natural and unnatural was particularly eye-opening for me.  I understand that people can be vastly different from me, but it’s good for me to get a glimpse of what that looks like, to give these other ideas names and faces to go with them, giving them validity instead of an overpowering sense of “otherness” alone.  I hope that this learning experience will go with me as I endeavor to focus on my career, working within this diverse world, helping others to open their minds so that they can be lifelong learners as well. 

#London19

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Ghoul Gate

I chose the above pictured grave as my ghoul gate because it seems to have most of the qualities required to be deserving of the term.  It has “cracked or broken stone, scraggly grass... about it, and a feeling... of abandonment.”  It is also difficult to read the words engraved upon it and is also “headless” in a way; I’m not sure what was once mounted at its peak.  It is also sprinkled with a lichen-like substance, altogether giving it the appearance of a ghoul gate.

It was difficult to choose just one grave for this post, as Highgate Cemetery is quite literally packed with stones and such.  Some are very old and some are quite new, but all in all this cemetery looked as though many of the grave sights were piling on top of one another, so much so that I wondered when the people who run it would consider it to be at its full capacity.  Walking through such a crammed cemetery, I couldn’t help but think about how finite life is and how infinite death is.  Although I don’t believe the dead are there, actually “living” in such close quarters for all eternity, it saddens me to think how forgotten most of them probably are.  They were here for a while, but now they’re gone forever.  It makes me wonder if—at the end of their lives—they were pleased with how they spent their time.  This of course leads me to consider the same question for myself.  As Dr. Kitta said during a class discussion, time is the only thing we can’t get back or make more of, so I hope that I’ll have wasted as little as possible.

#London19

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Ghosts and gender

For the most part, I don’t consider the gender of ghosts when hearing brief stories or legends unless it is specifically mentioned.  If the apparition is described as either a man or woman, that’s pretty simple.  But when physical objects move and the ghost is unseen, I feel that some people may assume the gender depending on what it does.  If the actions are more hostile or violent, I think that most people would assume that the ghost is male (the Extreme Guy).  This of course can be contested with the idea of the Angel in the House and her “evil twin,” the Deviant Femme, making it possible for a ghost of any gender to be either kind or menacing regardless.  However, knowing the history of the space you’re in can alter your assumptions about the gender of a specific ghost.  

From a superficial standpoint, one might think that the gender of a ghost is irrelevant.  For those of us who are interested in not just the what of ghost stories but the why, gender can definitely play an important role in understanding the ghost’s actions and intentions as it pertains to their haunting business.  If a ghost was mistreated in life or even murdered, we often feel that their victimization justifies their behavior.  In fact, I think that in our growing feminist society that the Angel in the House (as well as the Deviant Femme) is often sympathized with due to her mistreatment in life.  Likewise, if a male ghost is one who was killed in battle, he can be respected as one who gave his life for a greater cause.  

It is difficult for me to see humans (or ghosts that were once humans) as genderless, so the idea of the Genderless Presence only comes to my mind as a ghost or “presence” that doesn’t look much like a human.  Using the Ghostbusters movies as an example might seem silly, but I don’t have much experience in this field and therefore not much to draw from for contribution.  In some of the movies, the ghosts clearly have gender, but some of them are simply blobs or spirits that inhabit living humans and do not give the audience a clue as to their gender.  This is what I think of when I see the words Genderless Presence

#London19

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A Kinston ghost story

The story goes like this:

“A home during the Kinston Battle in December of 1862, had served as a field hospital and the battle had raged all about it. During the twentieth century the William’s family lived in the same house that had served as the field hospital.

Once when their grandson came to visit, after he had gone to bed  an apparition appeared. It was a man dressed in a Civil War uniform. The boy laid in fright frozen to the bed. This happened again on another visit. The second time it happened the lad ran scared from the room and he never again would sleep there.

Upon growing up he became the owner of the property and has always maintained the story is true of the apparitions he saw. To this day he feels uneasy when he is at this property that he now owns and rents out to someone else.

A short ways down the road was Harriet’s Chapel, a Baptist church (pictured above). The history of a Massachusetts Regiment tells of soldiers in the Battle of Kinston who were moving forward with the sound of rifle fire and cannonading all about them.  

The cannon blasting had caused loblolly pines to catch afire and they were burning all around them. Suddenly one of the men had his head severed from his body by that of a cannon ball. His blood and brain matter splattered onto the soldiers near him. But the battle raged on, and a call came for a double-quick march.

The nearby soldiers scared and in despair had no choice but to leave his mangled and beheaded body lying on the ground. The hearts of these men must have been beating rapidly with dismay as they continue forward into battle. Could it be possible that this northern soldier’s spirit has found no peace due to the horrific cause of his death and his soul is trapped in an in between world?”

This story forces me to recall conversations we’ve had in class, as well as some of our readings, about the usual look of ghosts.  This one too was dressed in period/military clothing, and the sight of him caused the young boy to freeze where he lay.  The fact that so many horrible deaths occurred in this area is definitely a contributing factor.  As this article continues with other ghost sightings in my hometown, the writer agrees that it’s no wonder that Kinston would have ghosts due to the Civil War battlefields there.  We now have a Civil War museum of sorts in town which I have yet to see.  I think I’ll make it a priority to check it out sometime after I return home instead of continuing to live the life of a disinterested local.  I’d be interested to see if ghosts are even mentioned there, and to see where certain battles specifically took place.

Source:

https://www.neusenews.com/index/2018/10/26/it-was-not-halloween-on-the-lenoir-county-battlefields-but-there-was-horror-and-terror

#London19

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Sorry, not sorry

Things I will miss about London:

-the diversity

-the theaters

-the good food

-the cultural immersion

-plenty of intellectual conversation

-the beautiful gardens

-face-to-face discussions with professors and classmates

-the randomness

-the ancient buildings

I suppose most of these things that made my list have something to do with the blandness of everyday life.  The repetition of people, places, things, and conversations make me appreciate just getting out of town, away from my usual responsibilities.  I’m sure that ENC has plenty of good food, theater, and gardens within driving distance, but it goes unappreciated when life gets bogged down with work, children, etc.  It really has been wonderful to take advantage of these past three weeks and all that London has to offer.

Things I will not miss about London:

-it takes an hour to get just about anywhere

-good food is expensive

-the walking

-the weed smell

-all the F bombs

-the constant construction outside our window

-all of the walking

-sugarless coffee

-the half-door to the shower

-the business cards in the phone booths

-lemon in my soda

-so much walking

#London19

[liljaysmom-blog]

Week 2

If I could sum up in a single phrase what I’ve learned throughout my experiences here in London over the past couple of weeks, I would say that things are not always what they seem at first.  Before embarking on this study abroad journey, I had a very elementary idea of what it means for something to be supernatural or even unnatural.  Likewise, I’ve always had very stereotypical and superficial thoughts about ghost stories, local histories, and graveyards.  It was odd for me to learn that people actually enjoy visiting cemeteries and that haunted spaces can contribute to a city’s character.  I had no idea that such morbid topics of discussion could be, well... normal.  I shared in an earlier post (I think) how much I enjoyed walking through a graveyard while in Edinburgh.  I learned then that not all resting places are the same; they’re not always dreary and creepy but can be quite beautiful, showing signs of life rather than of lives lost.  They can be places of peace and comfort rather than of darkness and despair.

I’ve also learned that you can be on the right track but heading in the wrong direction, thanks to the tube and bus systems here in London.  Just because you get turned around doesn’t mean you’re completely off course.  Although this may not seem like an ideal situation to find yourself in, at least you’re not so far gone as to have a hard time setting yourself straight.  All you have to do is realize that you’re heading the wrong way and turn around; problem solved.  

This has been my first travel abroad experience in which I stayed long enough to grow out of the honeymoon phase.  I usually have a hard time returning home, but I have a feeling that it won’t be as difficult this time.  If it is, it will at least be not so unwelcome as my homecomings have been in the past.  While this doesn’t have much to do with the curriculum and coursework, I’ve definitely learned a lot about myself that previous trips were unable to teach me.

#London19

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A Monster Calls

From the very first page onward, Conor teaches us so much about himself through both his words and his actions.  I love how he literally tells the invisible monster to “go away” out loud, as if it will hear him and obey.  This reminds me of how powerful the spoken word can be.  In the Bible, God tells us that only He is omniscient; so when the enemy is bothersome, we need only to say His name aloud.  This is why we pray “in Jesus’ name.”  Likewise, Conor verbally rebukes the monster instead of just wishing it would leave him alone as if it can read his mind.

We see Conor’s impatience in these first few pages as well.  As he hears his name repeated, he says with irritation, “What?” wanting to get it over with, whatever “it” is.  He goes on to show both sarcasm and cynicism when the monster tells him that he wants to talk.  “Yeah, sure... because that’s what monsters always want. To talk.”  The monster itself later notices Conor’s sarcasm, although it seems unfamiliar with the concept beforehand.  

I enjoyed the fact that the “monster” is not the stereotypical creature the reader, as well as Conor, initially assumed.  This monster goes much deeper than simply trying to frighten or get the attention of his “victim.”  He makes Conor think by challenging him with questions like, “Who is to say that it is not everything else that is the dream?”

I think that reading a novel like this one is extremely helpful in increasing our understanding to what monstrosities truly entail.  The supposed monster within, while described as large and unsightly, is eventually found to have no evil intent for Conor; looks can be deceiving.  In “Monster Culture,” Cohen shares the common theory on what makes a monster (the stereotypical kind).  We see evidence of these theses in the horror movies we watch and in the stories we read.  For example, the monster always gets away, and it is often ambiguous as to what it actually is.  This usually leads to its being an outsider with no place to fit in or belong, which spurns its horrific actions.

As I mentioned in an earlier post, the real monsters I’ve noticed over the past two weeks have been scary but in a real world sort of way.  Monsters such as poverty and homelessness are much more frightening than a tree could ever be.  A common monster I found in many of the plays we’ve seen over the past two weeks is dishonesty.  A lack of honesty can destroy a person, a family, a livelihood.  In Top Girls, discovering that her aunt was really her mother sent that little girl into a tailspin, so much so that she considered murdering the woman who raised her.  In Strange Fruit, not knowing the truth about his father’s character negatively affected the younger son as well as his relationship with his mother, while not knowing the truth about their heritage and homeland greatly affected the older son and subsequently his relationships with both his mother and brother.  In Present Laughter, the constant lying to his partners and hiding of multiple people in his home nearly drove him mad with the stress of it all.  Sometimes, our own choices become the monsters we have to deal with.

#London19

[liljaysmom-blog]

Unnatural, Monsters

When we think of the word “supernatural,” images of strange, unnatural, or even the impossible come to our minds (generally speaking).  We think of things that may be beyond reason or explanation, such as ghostly activity and the negative aspect of spiritual matters.  However, when we dig a little deeper into the subject, many of us may think of varying things as unnatural since what we think of as “natural” could be very different.  These are not spooky cemeteries or haunted houses and may not even be things at all.

Let’s take Peter Pan as an example of the unnatural or supernatural.  I think most of us would agree that his ability to fly makes Peter supernatural, but I believe that he is extremely unnatural for the most part.  He’s an immortal being who looks like a six-year-old boy but who also kills grown men.  He doesn’t want to grow up (while most kids can’t wait to “do whatever they want”) while simultaneously enjoying Wendy’s mothering.  I suppose wanting the best of both worlds is a natural feeling most of us can relate to after all.  

A city the size of London—and all that keeps it running—seems very unnatural to me.  Having always lived in a spacious but relatively small town in rural USA, I see so many “unnatural” things and occurrences as I simply move about in London.  What looks like the absence of hospitality is really just the locals doing what they must to get through their day in this metropolis.  Ignoring the strangers who reach out to me is difficult because it is contrary to my nature.  The poor, the homeless, the beggars on the streets and in the subways, they are unnatural to me as well.  I know they exist in my town, but I don’t walk by them every single day.  It’s safe to say that (in my mind) poverty and homelessness are very real monsters, not just in London but transnationally.  These monsters look like sunburnt faces, sleeping bags that never get cleaned, and paper cups for spare change to be tossed into; they are hopeless souls resting on cardboard.

In a nutshell, I think the unnatural impression London gives me overall is that, while she is full of people as well as their interactions with one another, she is a bit dehumanizing and more like a well-oiled machine.  I get on the tube or wait for a bus and can’t help but think that this city runs like clockwork.  What if a bus broke down, or the city didn’t have enough employees?  Just like any other machine, if one part stops, the whole machine will go down.  I honestly don’t know how a city of this size keeps moving.  Seeing so many of those moving parts and not understanding how they all keep going is what I find most unnatural about London.

#London19

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“Unnatural” Poetry

Casting Bones at Last Dusk

The unnatural light / on this last dusk of July / sends the grackles /                  into the cedars / rattling their wings / in the evergreens / making a sound /        like Ishmael did / casting his bones / around the deck / of Ahab’s ship.

Kudzu Comes to Paradise

Through a sparrow’s eyes / paradise must look a lot like / that overgrown lot of scrub / pine, leafy vines and what not / behind my fence that I view /                  as an eyesore just waiting / to be taken over by kudzu.

Ink That Disappears When Day is Done

You who lie there / in the shade / of stone and wreath / we write your names /    in a moment of grief / on our memories / with ink that disappears / when day is done / until the sun shines on / again another May / or maybe come November / if we remember / you still bear the weight / of sacrifice in the dark / soil above your graves. 

These poems by a single author (found on the poetry blog linked below) each made me think of London or of our topic of discussion as to what is natural.  The first does so by referencing “unnatural light,” an unfamiliar bird and its bones, all of which add to our subjects pertaining to darker things.  The second I love since it speaks of the wild kudzu making the man-made fence better by covering it; although the fence is the intended, the greenery is what’s natural.  The last poem reminds me of all of the people we’ve learned about who have passed on before our time whether they be people of prominence such as royalty or the women who were murdered by Jack the Ripper.  We think of these people momentarily but life goes on, and sometimes our lives are affected by what they accomplished or by the mere knowledge of them.  The amount of history contained within this city is an incredible thing to ponder.

https://hellopoetry.com/only-me/

#London19

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Home v. Here

After a week and a half in London, getting around has gotten “easier” in a sense.  It still takes an hour to get almost anywhere, along with more walking than a person who owns a car is used to, but one’s sense of direction is typically better by this point.  Common intercity travel mistakes made in the first week are (usually) a thing of the past as most of us have learned our lessons the hard way.  For example, we knew that the Northern line on the tube would take us home, but we forgot that there’s a Northern Northern line and a Southern Northern line as well.  Same goes for the buses; getting the bus number is only half of the success while getting the correct direction is the other extremely important half.

Back home, if I wanted to go somewhere, I would simply get in my car and arrive at my destination within a reasonable amount of time.  Here, you have to plan ahead; you have to consider the time (rush hour is a smelly time of day to use the tube) when deciding which mode of transportation is best.  I don’t do much of this back home if I’m at my leisure since backtracking doesn’t waste much time.  In London, it’s extremely helpful to carefully plan your excursions.  Taking one wrong bus or train can cost you some time and walking, both of which you’re not likely to want to spare if you’ve had a long day.  Again, I miss my car.

One thing I love about London is her diversity; she is diverse in her people and her food.  I enjoy having so many different food choices just around the corner.  Although, I daresay this would be the case in most any large city as opposed to my little town.  I love how art (the theater and books) is such a large part of the city and the people who live and/or work in it.  Although most commuters utilize their headphones while travelling, I’ve also noticed that Londoners read on the tube and on buses more than I would have presumed.  

Coping within a more dramatic transnational experience is something I’ve done a few times before.  Although the language barrier and such can be more intense, I think the intensity of London has been just as frustrating (if not more so) since we expected less stress in going to an English-speaking country.  I’ve had more stressors here than I remember having in Bulgaria or Ecuador; because one expects communication and such to be easier, the lack thereof can be irritating.  I don’t know how many times I’ve asked for directions only to find that no one could get me where I needed to go.  I think that’s more stressful than assuming beforehand that a local might not even understand me or I them; no harm done there.  Have I mentioned that I miss my car?

#London19

[liljaysmom-blog]

Supernatural

adjective

1. (of a manifestation or event) attributed to some force beyond scientific understanding or the laws of nature.

Since my understanding of what is scientifically possible is limited, and my awe of what humans are able to accomplish through scientific means is overactive, my thoughts on what is supernatural may include more examples than those of more educated persons.  I suppose my thoughts on what is supernatural is more likely to reflect what I consider to be miraculous, unbelievable, or simply weird (in my opinion).  Anything from incredible skyscrapers and ancient bridges to vast gardens and gorgeous graveyards.

The beauty of Regent’s Park was otherworldly to me.  I’ve never come across a haven quite like it.  Although it gives the lighter aspect of a heavenly space rather than a dark or menacing one, the miracle of such a place makes it super natural in my mind.  

Similarly, I found the graveyards I’ve seen to be much different from the cemeteries I’m used to seeing back home.  In the states (or at least where I live) cemeteries and graveyards are either neatly kept or neglectfully overgrown.  In Scotland, I found the above pictured example of what I would consider to be a happy medium.  They didn’t look like places of death and despair; they were more like gardens, symbolizing growth and beauty.  This was strange for me, but it left me wanting to be buried in such a place rather than in the neatly trimmed and barren resting places I’m familiar with.  I imagine it is easier for loved ones to visit a place of remembrance if it is beautifully lush and inviting instead of cold and depressing. 

#London19

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As usual, I am in a grey area... this time pertaining to which of London’s two statues of Peter Pan is most complimentary to his character conveyed in Barrie’s book.  When I saw the one placed in Kensington Garden shown above, I felt certain that another could not be its equal; it was wrong of me to assume.  They are both relatively youthful representations of the six-year-old looking immortal, but his stance and those positioned around him add something to each of these statues.  

Early in Barrie’s novel, Peter Pan is described as cocky by both Wendy and her mother.  While it is debatable that this trait of his is seen in both statues, I personally think that the attached gives us more of him than the other.  In the former, he is placed above everyone else represented, showing how he is (in a way) worshipped by Wendy and the lost boys, who are supposedly beneath him.  

The hospital’s statue of Peter is quite the opposite, only displaying Tinker Bell who—although above him physically—is not getting his full attention as she wishes.  However, one thing I do like better about this statue is the look on Peter’s face, one that more accurately unveils his seriousness despite his youth.  The one pictured here gives him a more innocent, and incorrect, façade.  He is a killer, after all.

#London19

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Week 1

I think it is safe to say that the honeymoon stage has worn off; London is, in a word, exhausting.  My everyday life back home is usually pretty busy, but it is nothing compared to this study abroad experience.  There is more to do than time to do it in.  Reading. Food. Homework. Plays. Food. Field trips. Weekend travel. Food.  I wake most mornings with the realization that I neither got enough sleep nor got enough of my coursework completed.  A couple of frustrating days left me feeling as though I had done so much but accomplished so little; the wasting of time is one of my pet peeves.  London is wearing me out, and we are not even half done here.

I was not wrong in my initial post about this city having so much to teach me, but I have come to realize that three weeks here will not even scratch the surface, and due to my fatigue, I’m OK with that.  It is wearisome to attempt to do everything.  London is beautiful, but she is fierce.  She is diverse, but she is dangerous.  She is always moving, and yet it takes an hour to get almost anywhere.  I miss my car.

I mentioned in an earlier post that the direction of road traffic did not affect me as I had expected.  However, I am still struggling with this direction issue when simply walking.  In America, we always walk on the right side (just as we drive) and I often find myself swimming upstream here in London where people are used to staying to the left even when walking.  

Another realization I have come to deals with the fact that Londoners probably do not take things as personally as Americans do (in general).  Because of the population and often crowded streets and tube cars, the people of London are not phased by the slight pushing and elbow rubbing with one another.  This is something many of us from rural ENC would have a hard time with.  I too like my space, and not letting someone in front of me is considered rude.  But here... it’s different here.  If I let others go before me on the escalator, I’d be standing there all day.  If I hesitate to keep moving forward, I could lose my spot on the next train or bus.  People push and take what they need, but they aren’t being selfish.  It is so interesting how one’s behavior can either be acceptable or not depending on their environment.

#London19

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Peter Pan quotes

There is much to be said about Barrie’s characterizations, and of Peter and Wendy in particular (in my opinion); it is their quotes or descriptions that I will refer to the most.

It is entertaining to me how Peter is so much like a boy (his goal) but he also displays some manly characteristics and knowledge at times.  When he first meets Wendy and inadvertently hurts her feelings, he rectifies his mistake by flattering her--as wise men will--saying that “one girl is more use than twenty boys” (34).  He eventually explains that it is his desire to never grow up.  “I want always to be a little boy and to have fun” (36).  Although this may seem childish, he is smart enough to understand that adulthood is not all that kids usually think it is cracked up to be.  I love it when the lagoon story is being told and Peter cannot simply wait for the pirates to leave before rescuing Tiger Lily because “he was never one to choose the easy way” (116).  We may have differences in our opinions as the whether this is a trait of boys, men, or both.  Throughout the book, he goes back and forth between such examples of both boyishness and displays of manly wisdom, which I find extremely interesting.

I think that Wendy is less of a complex character than Peter; although a child, she consistently displays characterizations that tell us her main goal is to mother all those who need mothering.  Not only does she literally jump out of a window for the chance to become the guardian of the lost boys, but she is also sympathetic to all who need a mother’s love including Hook’s lackey pirates.  When Smee asks what a mother is, “she felt that if you could have a pet pirate Smee would be her one” (120).  How insanely precious is that?!  However, Wendy does not just show her warm, soft side of motherhood, but we also see evidence of some of those little quirks many moms have.  When the mermaids would lay on Marooners’ Rock, “combing out their hair in a lazy way that quite irritated her,” I couldn’t help but laugh a little (112).  The girl is just a child, but she already can’t stand laziness; I love it.

#London19

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London Poetry

A London Thoroughfare. 2 A.M.

By Amy Lowell

They have watered the street, It shines in the glare of lamps, Cold, white lamps, And lies Like a slow-moving river, Barred with silver and black. Cabs go down it, One, And then another. Between them I hear the shuffling of feet. Tramps doze on the window-ledges, Night-walkers pass along the sidewalks. The city is squalid and sinister, With the silver-barred street in the midst, Slow-moving, A river leading nowhere. Opposite my window, The moon cuts, Clear and round, Through the plum-coloured night. She cannot light the city; It is too bright. It has white lamps, And glitters coldly. I stand in the window and watch the moon. She is thin and lustreless, But I love her. I know the moon, And this is an alien city.

#London19

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A Three-pub Day

London won me over today.  (Insert white girl victory dance here.)  Regent’s Park was a dream; I had no idea there were so many types of roses!  I enjoyed reading the names of many of them, as tackling all of them would’ve taken hours: from Ingrid Bergman to Doris Day, and Heart of Gold to Hot Chocolate.  I love flowers and really adore trees, so walking through this extensive heaven of flora and my favorite color was a highlight for me for sure!  

A lot of other “first times in London” were experienced today that further helped my affection for her to grow.  In Pub #1, I tasted my first Sunday roast (which I didn’t previously know was a thing) and Yorkshire pudding (which isn’t pudding at all), as well as fish and chips in Pub #3.  As a pretty big Sherlock Holmes fan, I was also a little excited to walk down Baker Street, but you know... no big deal. 😏 Ending the day with some live Irish music (in Pub #3) really culminated a day that feels more like a dream than reality.  

I’m thankful for all of the people who were a part of these experiences; sharing them with others made them even more special and enjoyable.  I don’t often get the opportunity to get to know new people (much less, a new city), so I look forward to continuing to learn more about London and my fellow travelers over the next three weeks.

#London19

[liljaysmom-blog]

Thirty-three hours up

Let me begin by explaining that, while this is not my first international travelling experience, this overseas venture is very different from the ones I’ve had in the past (both in purpose and location), and it has also been a few years since I’ve gotten out of the good ol’ U.S. of A.  With that being said, I must confess that London (so far) is not as I expected to find her, but we still have some getting to know each other to do over the next three weeks.  

Nonetheless, first impressions include my surprise that London is much like other parts of Europe I’ve visited.  I was not taken aback or in shock as I thought I would be over such details as the beguiling accents and driving on the opposite side of the road; acclimation to these aspects came easier than I had anticipated.  The view of the country from the airplane windows even reminded me of those I’ve seen prior to landing in Bulgaria.  Mind you, these are neither bad revelations nor concrete ones, just honesty about London not being what I was expecting to find, which I daresay is a likely outcome for me rather regularly when dealing with most any new experience.  

When we were able to explore the city a little bit on our first day, this feeling only intensified as I noticed more similarities in the people, how interesting their choices in clothing are and their diversity in general.  Again, none of this is negative or anything more than superficially telling about my new city-friend, just my initial thoughts on coming into the U.K. for the first time.  I know... it’s hard to believe that this energetic ball of giddiness found the homeland of many of her ancestors to be anticlimactic; maybe it’s the jet lag having its way with her perceptions.

Don’t worry; I’m still honeymooning.

#London19