slightly long, but there are pictures!

Bank Holiday weekends are the best. Really, I don't understand why the States don't invest in having some of their own. It would do a world of good for the entire workforce!

This weekend I went to Scarborough to visit with the fam, and it was glorious; as it always is.

Auntie Mary getting ready to keep pushing her bike across the beach.

Uncle Paul, Auntie Mary, and I went on a 23 mile bike ride/push on Saturday. Yes, you read that correctly, 23 miles. I haven't ever gone that far on a bicycle in one try. There were points where I'm surprised I didn't need to have an oxygen tank wheeling alongside me on the path to make certain I didn't pass out. Now, when I say we pushed our bikes, there literally was no other way to get the bikes to where they needed to be at times since some of the hills were SO steep.

Okay, seriously, only in England would this happen at first sighting of the sun!

We were mighty chuffed with ourselves though (despite not being able to walk properly that night). It was a beautiful day in the English countryside :D

Oh pretty bike ride path!

Also saw my grandparents and the rest of the fam there as well. Honestly, there are times when I just don't understand how I'm so blessed with the family that I landed in. The constant talking, the quick wit, the perpetual laughter, the insane knowledge, the love of God, and the love for each other all just amaze me.

Moving on from sappy things though...Who wants to hear more adventures of riding public transport with Em? That's what I thought...I've got three little golden nuggets for you today. All from this weekend.

• Okay, I took the train up to Scarborough from Gipsy Hill. The long stretch of it I had an assigned seat at a table; meaning there were three other people seated at the table with me. My table had two young girls and their mum, and part of me was slightly dreading this because I just wanted a quiet train ride.
  
  The mum at some point had asked me if I had an American accent after I had asked if I could put my bag under the table; to which I obviously said yes. The girls were amazed and wanted to know where I was from, and they were even more amazed when I said Florida. They both exclaimed, "WE'RE FROM THERE TOO!" Excited doesn't even cover their reaction. Turns out they're from Tampa and living in London for a year.
  
  Through the course of conversation the mum had asked me where I went to uni. When I told them Florida State, the little girl next to me just stopped what she was drawing and stared at me and her sister just gasped. I looked from them to their mum, and she laughed and said, "I work for Florida State's study abroad program in London for the year." One thing led to another, and she was giving me her phone number, email address, etc. and telling me to get in touch with her so that she could take me out for coffee and that she would love to show me around when I get back. Both her girls were so insistent that I get in touch so we can hang out again. It was an absolutely pleasant train ride, and infinitely better than the "quiet" ride I had envisioned. My Auntie Miriam and Uncle Paul told me that it's whole lot better getting that than Nigerian molesters ;)

• I was on the escalators leaving the Underground at London Bridge today to get to the railway bit when from behind me I heard, "Are you from Australia?"
  
  All he would have seen from the back would have been this...No, that is not a prayer mat. It's a floor runner that my aunt sent me home with.
  
  
  Next thing I know there is this guy walking up the steps next to me who then stopped in front of me and turned around. I told him I wasn't, but that I have visited there. He proceeded to talk to me about where I was from, if I was looking for a hostel like he was, etc. He told me all about his time on the Continent (because I had asked in order to keep the flow of convo going as he was going nowhere fast). He walked me to the part in the train station where it shows when all the next trains are leaving, and told me that it was great meeting me. He shook my hand, winked, and left. Now I must say, I didn't mind this at all because he was not a complete creeper at all and he didn't hassle me for my number!

• Today there were obscene amounts of rail works going on, and I had to go completely out of my way in order to get home. It should have been a 20 minute straight shot from London Bridge. Instead, I had to connect two more times. On my last connection, the stop is not sign posted very well. I went into the information area to find out which platform I needed to be on. The guy in there immediately started to pretend that he was asleep, and so I laughed and then asked him which platform I needed. He told me, but also said that I just missed it and the next one wasn't for another half hour. I went outside and grabbed a seat.
  
  I knew I forgot something...my life-size dragon head.
  
  Ten minutes later, I notice out of the corner of my eye this guy with a dust bin and broom sweeping up some rubbish and then he came over near me and swept near my feet. He then proceeded to ask me where I was from, telling me how much he loves my accent, and that he just had to come and find out where it was from. Blahblahblah...It wasn't a real nuance, and I figured I'd never see him again so I'd be nice. His tactic was he wanted me to teach him how to sound like me; which I told him I can't teach anybody how to sound like me. Convo constantly had how much he loved the way I spoke, how friendly I was, and "your smile, you just don't get that around here, your smile is amazing." Awkward for me as I never know what to do in these types of situations as I'm completely not used to them still.
  
  Turns out he's originally from Cameroon. He asked if I've ever been to Africa, and I told him "No, but it's on my list of places to go." He told me, "Ohhhh....if only I had enough money, I would take you to Cameroon myself, we would have a free place to stay, and I could show you around." Let's just say I choose to ignore parts of the conversation, namely that part.
  
  Eventually the train came. He shook my hand, and introduced himself. I can't remember his name anymore though...It was something like Jacob, Jordie, Jacobie, etc. He walked me to the train and carried out his job in letting the conductor know when it was safe to leave. As it started to move away from the platform, he knocked on the window to wave goodbye to me.

Now, please don't get the wrong impression. It's not always men. I've gotten several women who seem to find me an inconvenience when they sit on the aisle seat of the bus next to me, and I have to leave before they do. They like to roll their eyes at me, and it makes me giggle when I finally convince them to swivel around in order to let me squeeze my way past.

I'm still alive

I just haven't had internet access outside of work. Not sure about you, but I figured it would not be appropriate to update my "blog" at work....Besides, those computers are slower than molasses.

Anyways....So much has happened in the past month. Angry Polish men run-ins, Somali delivery men, more weird people just randomly striking up conversation with me. Those will all deserve their own bullet-like post. That is, when I get internet access at my flat.

Where am I at the moment? At the pub up the street from my flat. They have free wi-fi, and Melissa and I have carted our laptops up the hill and have set-up shop. We're currently experiencing internet highs - much like junkies do. Our tolerance levels aren't quite as high as they once were. So this fix should last for a couple of days...I hope. Don't judge us.

I've met someone since we've last talked though. His name is Lucas. Lucas Eggling. He's a pretty good listener. Not very talkative, but has a very calming presence. Melissa sometimes worries that I might be getting too attached. That he doesn't talk too much back to me. I think she may be secretly jealous....

Don't worry about the lack of hair though. He'll be growing some lavender soon (hopefully I've got a green thumb).

Until next week, at the latest, my dear friends and family.
lovelovelove
ems

quick like a bunny

This weekend I shall be saying goodbye to the house with the red door. It has been BEYOND fabulous living with this family. I really could not have asked for anything more amazing :)

Nevertheless, it is time to find a place of my own to settle down in. You know, simple things like being able to NOT live out suitcases will be excellent, and not having a hour commute into work.

All I've been hearing is how fast this has all happened. I fully agree though. It was only a week and half ago that Melissa and I even saw the flat, but it's more than we could have ever imagined. Location is amazing! It's right in-between the bus stop we'll need to get to work and the train station to get into the city; grocery store a few minutes walk up the hill; cafes and cute little bread of many nations restaurants close by; a HUGE park about 10-15 minute walk away; nearby a police station and a post office. Most importantly, we aren't in an area where we will likely run into clients!

Oh, and the rent is not too shabby either. For future guests, the reception room (aka living room) has a door; which means you can sleep-in and not feel like you're in every body's way :)

This is what the new place will look like.

We're going to have the top floor. This means we won't have to deal with anybody stomping around overhead!

Come see us soon!!!!

P.S. I would be remiss if I did not send out my love to my favourite newly engaged couple.

Celebrating the excitement of this awesomeness all the way over here in London-town.
I love you guys dearly!!!!

misadventures of me

Work was done for the day, Melissa and I had just finished getting some sodas at Tescos, and she dropped me off at the train station on her way back to her "home". I continued walking into the sketchy station that is nearby where my office is and heard this slightly rotund middle-aged man say behind me, "Hey, sister"

Obviously, I didn't respond; I mean, the only person who could legitimately say that to me lives in South Florida.

And is a female.

There happened to be a train load of people getting off at the platform that I needed. Since it's a smaller station, there was no way that I was going to be making my way down the stairs with them all flowing up towards me like salmon on their yearly migration upstream. Waiting at the top of the stairs took a couple of minutes, and during this time the man that I previously mentioned had made his way in front of me.

He turned and looked at me and said, "Are you in a haste?"
I was confused. Did he really just say "haste" to me? "Pardon?" I replied.
"Are you in a haste?"
"Oh...? no"

We made our way down the stairs, eventually.

He didn't leave me alone, as I was grabbing for my mp3 player in my bag.
I'll be honest, I can't even remember how he even segued into the next part of the conversation. Perhaps there was no segue. Maybe he is beyond forward.

He stood there and then proceed to ask me, "So, are you married?"
"Huh?"
"Are you married?"
HOLY CRAP! What is this man getting at?
"Not yet"
"Why not?"
"Oh, I'm not ready yet."
Please, just leave me alone!!!
"So, what do I have to do to marry you?"
Seriously, what is going on here?
"What?"
"What do I have to do to marry you?"
He wants my hand in marriage!!!! Why do weird, older, foreign men always do this to me?
"Oh...I'm really not ready to get married right now."
Isn't he getting the hint?
"Well, I can be your friend. Everybody needs friends."
"Pardon?"
"I'll be your friend."
"Oh...right..."
::brain explodes::

Silence

"Was that your sister out there?"
"Who?"
"The girl who left before you entered the train station."
"Oh, no. She's a co-worker."
Because he wasn't creepy enough already...Doesn't he notice I'm NOT giving him much to go on?

He then asked me about what I do in the area, where I've come from (since he could tell I didn't sound like the Brits), etc. Which were all answered with the bare minimum answers...During this point I found out he's originally from Nigeria and is "self-employed," but I'm not convinced by the latter part of this.

"So, do you have your mobile with you?"
"Yeeeeaaaahhhhhh???"
"Oh good! Here get it out. I'll give you my number."
SHIT (yes, that was the first thing that came to mind...)
"Oh...well...the battery is actually on it's last leg and I'm really trying to conserve it at the moment."
Is that really the best you could come up with?
"Well, how am I going to get your number?"
How about not?
"Ummm...why don't I write yours down? ::as I grab some pen and paper::"
Please work, please work. Why isn't anybody saving me and pretending like they know me?!?
"Well, how am I going to get yours?"
I should just run over to one of the random young guys sitting on the benches and act like I was supposed to meet them....
"I'll just write yours down. What's your number?"
"It's ::insert lots of numbers:: and my name is Ekema."
"Awesome, great, thanks. ::puts notepad away::"
Oh, please let it die. My brain is made out of mush after legal proceedings all day long...No good escapes come to mind...
"Well, why don't you put it into your phone now and text me so I can get yours?"
Crap, this man does not give up easily...and where the heck is his train?!?
"Ohhhhhhkay....::as I reluctantly pull out my phone and text him::"
I should ask him for the 10p he just wasted me ;)
"Great, so what are you doing this weekend? Saturday? Sunday?"
"My family already has plans for me. It's really good to be able to spend time with them now that I'm back in the country."
He looks sceptical... but that is mostly the truth. Better than the stupid battery lie...
"What about during the week?"
Oh good his train is pulling up!!!!!
"I can't make any promises."
"I'll text you."
Doesn't mean I'll reply! Excellent, he's leaving!

You can't make that kind of stuff up! How does that sort of crazy always find me? I told my rental mum about it once I got home, and she just laughed and said that things are never dull with me. She then put in a request for me to get a random proposal from a man in Italy who happens to own some property. That way she could finally get her Italian summer holiday set ;)

Oh! Don't worry dad, I've already saved that number in my phone as "Don't Answer Nigerian Marriage"

P.S. Sorry for the lack of photo, but nothing I've got could do justice to craziness of the story. Today's was a word picture hopefully!

secret admirer?

Flowers arrived for me early this morning, while I was still sleeping.

The family that I am staying with was desperately trying to figure out the mystery of who was sending me a HUGE bouquet of flowers. The consensus was a secret admirer; despite the fact that I've only been in the country two weeks.


When I emerged after getting ready, the dad was the only one home and asked me who was sending me flowers and telling me about the secret admirer theory they all had. He left, and their son popped in quickly between a hockey game and a rugby game. He questioned me concerning the sender of the flowers as he was searching the kitchen for food. The secret admirer theory was also discussed. He left quickly thereafter to make it to the next game. Then, the mum got home and asked me about the flowers. She was saying how they all were rather impressed, thinking that someone spotted me rather quickly, etc.

The truth is, that it was NOT a secret admirer who was sending me flowers. It was my lovely Auntie Mary and Uncle Paul who sent me the flowers to congratulate me for completing my first week of work! So kind and sweet.

We all had a good laugh at the secret admirer theory though. The mum said it's probably a good thing that one of the Croydon boys hasn't taken notice of me yet. That I could do better ;)

TCP

They do not sell rubbing alcohol in this country. Store clerks have looked at me like I've had five heads whenever I've asked if they have it in the store. I even asked for "Isopropyl" and explaining that it is a disinfectant that is ethanol based. Still, I'm the strange one asking if they sell crack cocaine on aisle one.

Instead, the lady in Boots told me to get something called "TCP." That it serves the same basic purpose. She forgot to mention that it smells like butt. Well, not literally. You get the point, it smells nasty and it lingers. (Yes, I'm aware that rubbing alcohol does not smell like roses either; however, the smell doesn't linger in my nasal passages.)

Word Fest

London's Word Fest started this past Saturday. My cousin's brother-in-law, Jon Bilbrough, was playing on Sat. night, and him and his wife had invited me to join in the fun with them. Let's just say that I'm rather glad that I did. He had a pretty legit set.

Jon's last piece was in collaboration of some friends of his who own a printing press, Henningham Family Press. It really was one of those "You had to be there moments," but maybe some visuals will help you slightly understand the ingenuity of this piece. (Must apologize for the fuzzy quality of them!)

So, you've got him up in the front, strumming along, singing his song.

While the Henninghams' are starting to do some screen printing, on top of the story/lyrics of the song, in the back.

It became a hive of activity then. They put the posters on a clothes line with directions printed on, telling Jon what to do next.

They then move the posters down the line.

When it came to a light, that was strategically placed in the middle of the clothesline, Jon did what the poster told.

Things moved along in this fashion for the course of the song. It was quite interactive, to say the least.

Obviously, they sold them. I mean, seriously, why would anyone NOT want to buy one?

Whenever you come to visit, it's your job to spot where I've displayed mine ;)

In other news, had my first day of work today. We were shown around all the council buildings that we'll need to know, and introduced to heaps of people that I don't remember their names. All in due time though. Training/Intro stuff seems to be planned for the next 2 to 3 weeks.

That's all.

p.s. check out Jon Bilbrough on itunes.