This is day two back in the UK, the first filled with the drama (trauma) of lugging two 50-pound (that's about 22 kilogram) bags from Heathrow airport to SE London via the tube transit system, followed by about a mile of wandering aimlessly trying to find my flat and a way in. I was doing fine up until the last 1/2 mile or so of wondering, when I hit a quiet side street lined with shady-looking individuals... "Al-roit," I told myself in an odd British accent, "head down, move forward" - awkward bags and all.
Luckily I managed to find my appointed spot and was rewarded with two undergraduate bag-luggers. Joy. Extra joy because I was exhausted (did I mention I only slept an hour and a half en route?) and my room turned out to be on the fifth floor of the flat (good news: great view). Once in my new room I thought, "hmmm... this is like Bristol," and simply passed out for the next four hours. Then I got up and unpacked, and unpacked and unpacked. Then I passed out again, this time for 12 hours.
~Waking up this morning was tough. I was sad mostly, my heart still in America, and most of my head too. My stomach was definitely in London though, and it is what finally got me going. I decided to make it a day of exploration, to feel out my little piece of London (photos coming soon). And it's been good. I haven't managed to find a phone card to call home, or even a public phone on which to make such a call, but I did satisfy my stomach with two supermarket trips. The highpoint though was definitely reading an email from Kelly and her latest blog updates. The one about detox and becoming the observer helped me a lot as I work with my own anxieties and defense mechanisms of being in a distant and unknown city.
Anywho - time's up at the net cafe. Until next time.