Wednesday was supposed to be an internship day, but, given my shift in mentality, I decided to report back to the CAPA center to get my life sorted. I woke up tired, as most people do every day, and decided that, since I had no classes or job obligations, I was going to wear yoga pants and my Asics running shoes. In public. In London. My feet were thrilled by this decision, but, as soon as I made it to the tube, I started to regret it just a little bit.
To justify this life decision, I decided to do the 20-minute walk to East Finchley Underground Station rather than hopping on the 102 bus to get there as I normally would. As I walked through the brisk morning, I encountered this adorably fluffy Golden Retriever waiting for his owner outside one of Hampstead Garden Suburb’s little shops. Now I’m about to disclose something to you, my readers, and I hope desperately you will not judge too harshly. It was early in the morning, I am a deprived animal lover, and I can be incredibly blonde at times. But, as I passed this dog, I thought to myself, “I wonder if the English dogs have English accents as well.” Yes. Okay. Take your shot at me. I know.
Let me please take this opportunity to share with you some American winners from last week’s orientation sessions, though. I am not the dumbest one here.
One of the orientation sessions was concerning our accomodations while we're here and what to do if certain things happen. As we were talking about facilities issues, one girl asked her friend, “What do we do if we clog a toilet?”
Of course I had to lend my knowledge to the poor girl! “Actually, that doesn’t happen here because English people don’t poop.”
The girl’s friend looked enlightened. “Ohhhh. That must be like a Darwin thing here because they don’t have very much space so they just don’t generate waste anymore.”
The girl look frightened. “Wait,” she cried, “does that mean I’m going to stop pooping while I’m here?”
I quite literally could have burned my American passport right then and there.
Another favorite was a discussion I had with two friends from Ursinus about their wanting to go to some sort of festival for a J.K. Rowling book signing. As we are going to Bath this Saturday as a CAPA student body, I felt it appropriate to mention that the Jane Austen festival is going on in Bath this week. One of the girls behind us, who had been mildly engaged in the conversation up to this point, responded, “Oh, cool! Do you think Jane Austen will be there for book signing, too?”
I wish I was telling you lies.
Moving on, I arrived at the station around 9:00am, which was later than normal for me and a wonderful experience. No sleeping mob of people pushing each other onto the trains, seats available where I could sit and journal all the way into the city, and no Tube Farters! I was pleased with myself for remembering my iPod for the commute, as every proper Londoner should, and plugged myself into my classic country playlist. I’m officially the girl who walks around London in yoga pants, pondering conversations with dogs and listening to country music. I’m not sure that’s exactly where I was headed with my life or what I had in mind when I embarked upon this journey of growth and self-discovery, but I think I’m okay with the conglomeration. I make for an interesting person, I suppose. Until you talk with me and find out that by “interesting” I mean “crazy.”
After I got to CAPA, I talked extensively with the internship team about my quarter life crisis and one of the coordinators found another internship option for me in sales and marketing. Of course, this was right about the same time Andy Steves emailed me with an actual offer to come aboard for a WSA internship this fall. While this situation is tricky at present and has yet to be settled, all of the above are amazing opportunities.
I came home and spent the day lounging, catching up on blogging, and photo posting. While I should probably look into the option of doing schoolwork at some point in the near future, I feel there is plenty of time for that later in the week.
Thinking time was abundant throughout the afternoon as I pondered when I would run out of things to say in my blog or grow tired of this city. “The man who is tired of London is tired of life,” Samuel Johnson said. Maybe he was right. Maybe it could never happen.
After over a week of living here, I finally tonight experienced my first London rainfall. Just as my first ride on the tube excited me, so did this. I ran to the window to watch the fifteen-minute storm. It sent cold bursts of wind through my room and left gentle droplets lingering on my second-story picturesque windows, and I enjoyed the experience immensely. Is it sad I am also excited for the first time I get to use my baby polka dot travel umbrella?
As it is the spirit of the day, I will make one last confession before I retire: I think the British jam habit is sinking into my spirit. I’ve just returned from a midnight snack run with a piece of bread with jam in hand. Perhaps I really could be a Londoner when I grow up.