*01:02 pm
*09:02 pm
“Instead of saying, “How are you?” the English say, “Are you OK?” This one still gets me because my response is always a defensive “Yes, why wouldn’t I be?” I then try to explain to them that “Are you OK?” in the States is used as a nice way of saying, “What’s wrong.””
“I dressed in what I deemed my finest outfit, one that I had laid out the night before just for old times sake. I wore my favorite jeans, a white cotton button-up, my previously mentioned new striped sweater vest, a blazer with my “It’s never dull in Hull” button, and leather boots. I felt quite snappy actually as I walked/danced to school with my iPod providing a soundtrack.”
“It’s like a gratifying hiss of confidence-building-reassurance. With each Pissssst I imagine an English woman narrating: “Good shift. Nice turn. I wouldn’t have breaked either.” To quote a phrase, it is brilliant.”
“Once you catch the wrong train, specifically one heading in the undeviating opposite direction, things become difficult. And once you realize that you don’t have the phone number to the person meeting you at the station in Hull AND that the train you’ve just gotten on is actually a different company and you’ll either have to get off or buy another ticket things become even more difficult.”
“As I move on to Hull I’m met with mixed feelings. I am excited for what lies ahead, seeing my home, beginning school, meeting my hall, and everything else that lies in wait, but I have really loved London and I don’t feel ready yet to leave it behind. Granted my love is still in the premature, infatuation stage, where I only see her good and not her flaws. But still, as the title suggests, I am smitten with Britain.”
“Tottenham, possibly even more so than Central London, is a hodgepodge of culture and people. By walking around, taking the bus, shopping in the grocery store etc, I have met people from Russia, Poland, South America, Vietnam, Jamaica, loads from Africa, even more from Lebanon, India, Pakistan, etc.”
“Outside I took in a deep breath of air and said to myself: “I’m in England. I am in bloody England!!!” For the first few minutes I couldn’t help but have this cheesy grin plastered to my face. I had arrived.”
“New Yorker of course is the languageless language of the city. Typically it is all done with eye movement, head movement, or strategically placed fingers. I chose the head moving dialect. It occurred as I was exiting the Subway, I was heading to an elevator when a hard looking man all “thugged-out” in his Roccawear finest, put out his arm and held the elevator door for me.”
“As I walked to gate A14 I looked for someone, anyone, who looked like they were sharing my feelings. I wanted to see someone crying, someone longing to hang on to what they were leaving. But I saw no one. And 2 minutes into my big adventure I first felt it. I am alone.”