Video Update

Green Grass and Dying Leaves

In the morning, sweepers come through the borough and remove all the fallen leaves from the sidewalk.  I'm not sure if this is done for aesthetic purposes, or so the commuters don't have to slip on the rain-soaked leaves.  Either way, it has made me forget that autumn is coming to an end and winter is creeping up.  As more and more leaves begin to fall, the daily sweeping is no longer enough to keep them tidied up, and so I end up shuffling through piles of foliage as I walk back from the underground station in the afternoon.

 Morning leaves all nice and orderly

Clean streets, dreary skies

London leaves are funny things. In North Carolina leaves (that aren't pine needles, that is) turn amazing shades of red and yellow before they finally break loose.  The leaves around my residence sometimes fall when they are still green.  Consequently, all the piles of leaves on the ground are shades of green and light brown.  It is a bit like they don't want to admit it is cold.  When I took the train out to Norwich for Thanksgiving at a classmate's house, the landscape was still rich and green, even in a temperature that would be considered "the dead of winter" back home.

Flowers blooming on a tree with dying leaves 

Green and brown leaves 

My residence hall, with fake grass on the far right

St. Saviour

This afternoon I hopped the tube over to Monument to see if the TK Maxx there had any good winter coats and sweaters. It isn't that far away from my dormitory, but I bought a travelcard this week (unlimited subway travel in my zones) so laziness got the better of me.  I had a small love affair with the discount store TJ Maxx back home, so it only makes sense that I'd cuddle up to the UK counterpart, TK Maxx, here.  The British version carries legit designer clothing alongside generic brands, whereas the US store only had moderately expensive markdowns, but even the normal clothing doesn't run quite as cheap as in the States.

I did manage to find a fitted wool-blend DKNY short jacket in a nice dark grey color for £60 ($98) marked down from £330 ($540) and a zip-up grey sweater for £20 ($33) marked down from £120 ($195). I have tried to branch out from wearing grey and black, but the best I've done was add a dark red sweater to the mix. It isn't intentional, I swear! The styles and designs I like just so happen to only be on sale in these colors.

Since the night was fairly warm for this time of year, and in an effort to avoid post-work tube rush hour, I decided to walk back over London Bridge to my dorm.  London is amazing at night.  Seriously, props to whoever was like "hmmm...I know! Lets put lights EVERYWHERE!" because the city looks lovely. I snapped some quick shots of the Anglican Southwark Cathedral.  There are assorted myths about the founding of a Christian site here, but the earliest date is around 600CE and something has been confirmed to be on the site by approximately 1000CE. Also known as St. Saviour and St. Mary Overie, the location has gone through many changes in the thousand or so years it has been used for worship. Also, it looks pretty.

Curry, Clothes, and that abominable four letter C-word: Cold

Up until around last week London had been unseasonably warm.  So much so that it was actually colder back home in North Carolina.  Not saying that it was hot out by any means, but it was warmer than England usually is in November.  Then shit took a turn for the normal and the temperature dropped.  It hasn't really gotten below freezing here yet, but the wind and giant lack of central heating makes it seem a bit worse to my whiny Southern self.  Thankfully, my dorm has pretty good insulation and a happy little radiator in my own room.

So this was me for most of last week and this week. Curled up underneath my fuzzy blanket from Primark (more on Primark later, a store of this magnitude deserves its own post), I switched directions on the bed so that my head was beside the radiator. This was due to the fact that our radiators have a pre-programmed timer to turn them off after about 45 minutes.  After talking to my dorm mates, Giulia and Saloni, we figure out that there is no way to take the timer off the radiator so that it just stays on. Stupid London fire hazard protections and stuff, guess they get kinda paranoid after about half your city burns down. I don't know if it is an American thing or just an East Coast thing, but I have actually never encountered a radiator before moving here. Are these common in all of England or just at my university? Not only do my dorms have the radiators rather than central heating (and no air conditioning at all!), but the primary buildings I have classes in on campus also have large scale radiators.

In an effort to get some work done and get motivated, I promised myself my most favourite London dish if I made it out of bed, showered and dried my hair and put on makeup, and made it out to my department building on Kingsway to get some work done.  So today, after braving the Saturday tourists at Borough Market, I grabbed myself some green Thai seafood and chicken curry from Furness Fish and Game and am now updating my blog while eating my treasures on campus.

It doesn't look like much compared to the artfully arranged dishes at most fancy Thai restaurants, but the taste is pretty much on target, especially given the price. This container, packed full to the point I have to wipe down the sides with napkins, fills up a very hungry me or works as two servings for a normal hungry me.  The cost is £6, which comes to about $9.70 American, but I've learned a lot about the cost of things after living in London for some time.  Primarily, London is expensive. Far more expensive when compared to back home in NC, especially considering that the exchange rate is not in America's favor. This being said, the best advice I ever got was to get used to "normal" here and not do the exchange calculations in my head too much to determine if it is a "good" price. This isn't saying to not be vaguely aware of it, or to not be careful of being overcharged, but to realize that what you are paying for goods isn't insane by local standards.  Outside of London, the cost of living is much better, especially in regards to booze and rent, but the exchange rate still sucks.  That rant aside, this curry is very filling because they do put a nice portion of rice in there for some carbs and to absorb the curry sauce, but the dish is made up of very large chunks of dark meat chicken and heaping amounts of seafood.  Since Furness is actually primarily a high quality seller of fish, poultry, and game, all of their seafood that they use in their food is fresh and large.  I have always loved shrimp, but their Thai curry introduced me to mussels and non-fried calamari (and their calamari rings are big!).

The other half of my curry is currently in the TRS (Theology & Religious Studies) fridge. Yep, you heard me: refrigerator. Our department was one of the lucky few that got moved from a dingy hallway on the Strand Campus down the road to the new and renovated Virginia Woolf building on Kingsway this semester.  Since the building is open to postgraduates with keycard access 24/7, I like coming here to study. I have no idea what this building was before our university took over it, but they were still putting the finishing touches on remodeling it when we had orientation, and they are still having issues replacing the elevators (thankfully our department is only on the third floor, rather than the 7th, so I just walk up the stairs) Here are a few pictures I took during orientation when we first got to see the building.

A picture of our happy little kitchen, complete with microwave and fridge. 

One of my classmates, Em, also excited about the building.

The postgraduate study area. Mostly (unofficially) claimed by Postgraduate Taught and PhD students, but there is usually space for us too.

My preferred study area: the lounge. I like curling up in that sofa beside the corner and the window since there is an outlet at that wall and a nice view of Kingsway. It is usually empty, but apparently the Coptic class meets in there sometimes, as I accidentally walked in on them once. Ooops. There is another connected area with more study carrels beside this room, and the kitchen on the other side.

 And here I am, because my dad complained that I don't have enough pictures of me! Okay, it is really hard to take pictures of yourself, especially without looking like a weirdo in public. Or in my case, looking like more of a weirdo than I already do. The cooler temperatures caught me by surprise and I was completely unprepared.  I knew it would get cold, I just didn't know exactly what cold was like!  It is easy to be like "okay, I'll layer and be fine. I have my wool coat" and then you realize you don't want to trudge around in a wool coat when it isn't quite that cold yet, or that your layers just don't quite cut it. There was also the simple fact that I didn't own enough heavier layers, like sweaters, because I didn't need them in the States and cold weather clothing wasn't really out in force yet when I left at the beginning of October.

I bought a coat while my mother was here (Okay, she bought me a coat), and recently I hopped down to Oxford Street to get some more warm weather clothing.  London has some pro's and con's when it comes to shopping.  On the positive side: there are a lot of different places to shop.  There are expensive designer stores down to cheap fast-fashion places, and there are a lot of them.  There are thrift stores, vintage stores, charity shops, markets, and everything in between. On the down side: It can be insanely busy.  Okay, it is usually insanely busy.  Your best bet is actually to avoid Oxford Street like the plague (Is 350 years too soon for an off-colour joke?), because all the tourists flock there.  It is a an epicenter of shopping insanity, there are multiple iterations of stores on the same street because the crowd supplies enough business for them.  The clustering of stores is why I sucked it up and went to Oxford Street to do some winter clothes shopping, so I could hop from one shop to the next without having to walk too far.  The sweater, or jumper as it is called in England, I'm wearing above I bought at H&M for about £15. The picture makes it look purple, but it is actually burgundy.

So now I am going to be productive and work on my readings. I have a presentation on Tuesday on Iain R. Edgar's "The 'true dream' in contemporary Islamic/Jihadist dreamwork: a case study on the dreams of Taliban leader Mullah Omar"

Dialogue

Scene: The new departmental building, late at night.

<enter Me>
Security Guard: Wait! Are you a student here?
Me: No. I'm an eccentric heiress who wears secondhand clothing, doesn't shower regularly, carries around a shit ton of books, and hangs out in dingy academic buildings during the wee hours of the night.

Yes, I'm a bloody student.
Piss off.

Yogi Bear(ly)

I hate yoga. I figure I should get that one out on the table at the very beginning.  I really really want to love yoga, but that shit just ain't in the cards for me.  Sometimes I get all politically correct and tell people that I dislike yoga because of its basis in colonialist Western appropriation, or I cache in on the elitist "religious studies" bit and tell people that I just can't take it seriously after learning about what real yoga entails.

But the reality is that I hate it because I suck at yoga.

I used to be a member of a big gym and, at one point in time, got into going to their yoga classes. I would stake out my spot on the floor and unfurl my yoga mat while the classroom filled up with women of all ages.  When the lights were dimmed and Enya's version of Indian music began to play, I would fall into the zone of posing and stretching.

Then, inevitably, my eyes would stray to the women on either side of me.  To my left would be the classic sorority girl, clad in only spandex shorts and a sports bra, twisted upside down in a slightly suggestive backbend or leisurely touching her immaculately manicured toes in a full split.  She was always perfectly glamorous, without looking "try hard", with just enough abs to give her that flat stomach body envied by all bikini-wearers. To my right would be a woman pushing 80.  This average looking grandma, wearing sweatpants perhaps woven from sustainable bamboo, would be casually meditating, in full zen mode, with her feet behind her head like a human pretzel.

These two Yogi Archetypes would effortlessly waft from pose to pose, all while I panted and strained to maintain downward dog for more than thirty seconds (my shoulders no likey).  Switch to the warrior poses and I'm tipping over and landing on my butt.  Can we just cut to the chase and go straight to corpse pose? An hour of corpse pose. That would be my type of yoga class.

I know I shouldn't compare myself to others in the class, especially those who may have been doing yoga (or "their practice" as it is apparently called) for much longer than I have, but I'm only human.  Even when I attempt to do yoga alone, I get frustrated by my lack of flexibility and balance.  No matter what I do, I just can't make yoga enjoyable for myself.

That all being said, I fully acknowledge that yoga can have health benefits.  Ignoring the spiritual claims, as I'm still skeptical of those, the stretching and steady breathing of yoga has been shown to be good for numerous different ailments.  My gastroenterologist even recommended I try yoga to help relieve my IBS symptoms.  So I have been attempting to do yoga every morning in lieu of normal stretching for my health issues, and to help me wake up and get moving.  I put together a little ten minute routine gleaned from the classes I used to go to, and I try to do it as soon as I roll out of bed in the AM.  I'll put the emphasis here on attempting. Some mornings I just don't have the extra time to do yoga, or I would much rather hit the snooze button one more time, so I'm trying not to be too hard on myself if I miss a morning or two.

Namaste and shit.

Reading Week

In the UK, students have a week off in the middle of both semesters called Reading Week. The idea is that students will use this time to catch up on reading, assignments, and such.  I find this to be a marvelous idea.  In reality, however, it seems that most students use this time to travel and party.  My mom (or 'mum' to the Brits) came to visit with me during Reading Week!  She hasn't traveled outside the country since my sister and I were little, and it has been about 22 or so odd years since she visited England.

Mom's visit killed two birds with one stone, if you'll excuse my cliche. She got to travel abroad with her free time now that she has sold her business, and she also got to kick my ass into organizational gear (I mean... see me. Yeah, see her daughter).

We did somewhat touristy things while she was here, but thankful nothing horrid.  I have a staunch aversion to anything touristy, which I think comes from growing up in a smaller tourist town.  Come summer time, people would flood into my hometown to visit the beach and generally make asses of themselves.  I'm not saying that all tourists are assholes, but that some are spectacular assholes. They'd come to my coffee shop and piddle around, comparing everything to how it is "at home" and leisurely enjoying their vacation.  London is no different, and this would be no problem is everyone was on vacation.  But everyone is not on vacation. So hurry your ass up, place your order, and get out of the way, because I have to get to work.  Stop gawking in the center of the sidewalk at Big Ben, if you want the perfect photograph go buy a postcard because you're blocking my way to class.

That rant aside, we did have fun.  The British Museum is always a classic, and the tour of St. Paul's Cathedral is lovely.

Mom also went with me down the Asda (Wal-mart) to get assorted things, like a frying pan and groceries.  I actually do love cooking, but having to buy utensils and such meant travelling out of my way and figuring out how to carry it all back on the bus without killing myself.  I also introduced my mother to the beauty that is the UK Kit Kat Bar.  I like American Kit Kat bars, but I looooove the British ones. They actually taste like good chocolate, rather than wax.

Long time, No see

I've been a bad blogger, but I have an excuse! Classes started and the metaphor of "hit by a bus" applies.  I am not entirely sure if it is because of the differences in the UK system or because it is graduate school, but there wasn't the slow and steady build up that I was used to. I also decided to take a class outside of my Masters program in beginner Arabic, so I have more than a full load to deal with.

I have learned a lot of things about living in London, but I also realize that everyone's experiences will be different depending on where they live and who they hang out with.

Eating out costs more here, but you generally tip less, so it evens out.

Walking is the cheapest mode of transport, followed by the bus, the the tube.  You tell yourself that you are going to walk places, then it gets cold and rainy so you take the tube everywhere.

A lot of things close earlier on the weekends, and there is a lot of repair work on the tube on the weekends.  Long story short: stay home on the weekends. Especially on Sundays.

Food tastes different here. Some better, some worse. It is almost like a game, Russian Roulette of food. Diet Coke is better here, Pepperoni is worse.

When you live in central London, going to the big grocery stores is an event.  I have to take the bus to get there, so I usually just walk to the local mini-Grocery.  It costs more and doesn't have as much, but it works.

That being said, when you live in central London you sometimes have to really search to find things.  Central London has everything, but it may not be conveniently located.  The local mini-Grocery only had one pack of tampons and they are the kind without applicators. They did, however, have Reese's cups, which I have been trying to find since I got here.

USA = frozen microwave meals galore. UK = refrigerated (fairly fresh) microwave meals.  I did find that strange.

You say "sorry" constantly, even if it is someone else's fault.  And you mind your own business. That part I love.  The Brits seem to have a "stay out of my way, I'll stay out of yours" motto of politeness going on.  You fall down, they help you up and everyone goes on their merry way.  In general, they are extremely helpful when need be.

Skincare products rock here.

In the morning you prepare for London weather as such: Look outside. Is it raining? If yes, then put on your raincoat and open your umbrella.  If no, then carry your raincoat and put your umbrella in your purse, because it probably will rain later.

"Dress in layers" is an understatement, especially if you are taking the underground.  It may be freezing outside, but the tube is always sweltering and stuffy.  Fainting can occur and make sure to carry extra powder with you, because you will sweat your makeup off.

They don't really use comforters in the UK, they use duvets.  Flat sheets are also considered somewhat old fashioned.

There is nothing in the world that can compare to Primark.

Everything is busy.  Living in central London means you will probably never be the only person in a bar or restaurant.  Coming from a small town, I only really had to make reservations on special occasions.  Here, it is common to make reservations for a weeknight dinner and to queue (wait in line) for an average restaurant for lunch.

Food tends to be healthier here. Saying that, you can eat absolutely horribly (and I do, lets not kid ourselves), with greasy kebabs and such, but there is a bigger emphasis on freshness and health.  I guess what I am saying is that if you want to eat healthy, it is easier here than in the States.

While credit cards are accepted most places, it seems that cash is still preferred.

Borough Market is the best and worst thing in the world, and everyone should try it.  I live near it, it is wonderful, but dear lord it can suck your money.

Wifi isn't as common here as it is the the States.  Places have it, but it isn't freakin' everywhere like I'm used to.  And sometimes you have to jump through hoops to sign on to it for a whopping 30 minutes. And sometimes it is terrible signal (I'm looking at you, University Library...).

Customer service tends to be pretty horrible by American standards.  Starbuck is hit or miss here, I do miss my American Starbucks, but that comes from working at one for almost six years.  People here tend to go for tea or real coffee, not frou-frou lattes.  I went to Costa coffee to study and got their seasonal Orange Mocha.  I was the only one with a very milky and whipped cream topped drink (there are extra taxes if you get food items "for here", and all drinks that are not takeaway ("to go") are made in ceramic or glass mugs).

That is all I can think of right now, considering I'm having a Ben and Jerry's sugar rush headache.

Love you.
Ali

Gardens and Pies

I think my current favorite thing about London is its green space.  It seems like anywhere they can, and even some places they probably shouldn't, the people of London plant trees and grass.  Trees are planted crammed in sidewalks and buildings attempt to incorporate the foliage in any way possible.  You'll be walking past high rises and pass the open gate to a small public garden wedged between a shop and an apartment complex.  These aren't half-assed green spaces either; the parks are well maintained, if not intentionally overgrown.

I have walked past St. John the Evangelist church and it's attached mosaic garden in Waterloo regularly to get to the Strand campus. I ducked inside the gate today to check out exactly what was going on back there in the little garden across the street from Britain's largest IMAX cinema.

In the back corner of the mosaic garden I ran into a man and his son sitting on a large mosaic bench.  They explained to me that this garden, and the bench they were sitting on, is dedicated to the homeless who live and die in the area.  The names of the local homeless who have died are written on the tiles of the bench by anonymous people. I couldn't get a full shot of the bench, because the man was sitting on it and I felt awkward taking a picture of him.  The following statue, with the owl, is a dedication to the pets (of the homeless, I believe) who have passed away.

After this I wandered down onto the Southbank to sniff out a small restaurant/food stand I had read about online.  Unsure of exactly where it was, I just started wandering through the crowds, figuring that I would happen upon it eventually.

I finally turned a corner and landed in Gabriel's Wharf. To my surprise, there it was! Pieminister!

I had been craving filling and meaty food, along with mashed potatoes. This is no surprise for all who know me, I pretty much could live off mashed potatoes and be satisfied.  I ordered their Shamrock Pie with mash and gravy, with a bottle of Victorian Lemonade to try.  The Shamrock Pie contained beef and Guinness gravy and could of easily been a meal by itself.  Add in the large quantity of mash and a good helping of gravy and I was stuffed.  The pictures don't look that glamorous, but I think anything covered in gravy isn't that photogenic.  I'm pretty sure even Angelina Jolie covered in gravy would be unappealing to the camera.

It was very hard to decide on which pie to get. They all sound so amazing.  The pie was huge and tasty, and the mash was very creamy with the wonderful gravy.  The Victorian Lemonade was a mildly sweet lemon-ginger soda, complete with pieces of ginger and lemon floating inside of it.  Actually really refreshing, I was pleasantly surprised considering that I am usually iffy about ginger in my drinks.  But oh, I will be back.  With their prices set pretty damn low for what you're getting, Pieminister will be seeing much more of me.

The Little Things

When I decided to move to another country for graduate school, I figured I would stick with one that spoke English, considering it is the only language I am fluent in.  I have taken Latin, French, German, and Japanese courses during my educational process, but all those fall somewhere behind Lumalier, Klingon, Quenya, and other fictional languages in comprehension.  I knew there would be some terms and phrases that would be unfamiliar to me on this side of the pond, but every now and then something new pops up that I was not expecting to be different.

Then I went to buy cleaning products.

Gearing up for Me vs. Tesco, round 1

I have to go easy with the shopping, considering that I'm not very big and I have to carry all my purchases on the bus back to my dorm.  Nothing like swinging a shopping bag and clockin' an old lady in the head.  Stay classy, Americans.

I, in my brilliance, decided to start my adventure during shopping rush hour.  Note to those who have never shopped in another country: you have no idea how much you stand and stare at shit you're unfamiliar with until you get in other people's way while doing so.  I, and probably most people, are so accustomed to seeing certain brands and branding that the differences in it spiral you pretty firmly into the 'culture shock' category.  In most places, the off-brand or store-brand items are styled similarly to the brand name, so you just have to glance for a common marketing theme.  Ain't no Windex here, guys.

This is not a diss at the UK and their cleaning products, this is making fun of me for being pretty incompetent and confused.

This is laundry detergent.  I know because I posted a picture of it on Instagram and received confirmation from my friend in Wales that it is the kind she uses. Before I picked this up I spent ten minutes staring at the "fabric conditioner" before I Googled it on my phone and realized that it was fabric softener.  Also, couldn't find dryer sheets.

You probably can't read that bottle due to the awesome mirror effect, but it reads "Washing up liquid". This, my friends, is dish soap.  Thankfully the cheap Tesco brand has pictures of glasses and plates on it to help me figure this out.  Other things I noticed about UK cleaning products: Awesome scents. I haven't actually opened any to see if they smell like what they advertise, but lime and lemongrass, blueberry, pomegranate and honey, cucumber and aloe.  Seriously!? Why don't we get these cool scents in cleaning products in the States?

As I was walking down the isle of Booze (Liquor in the grocery store? Be still my heart!), I came across this little bit of hilarity.  Is that a little kiddy milk carton? Nope! Mini-boxed wine.

I will be back to the Tesco this weekend to actually get food products, but I rewarded myself for my diligence (and stress) with a mint Aero bar. This is officially my favourite UK candy bar.

Video Update

Where They Charge for Water

When I was in the States I used to drink a lot. No silly, not booze (okay yeah, that too), just in general. When I ate dinner I would go through three or four glasses of water.  After one week in London, I've realized that that shit has got to stop.  Free refills are a thing of the past. Oh, and they charge for water. Tap water included, at most places.  I'm used to going out to eat like a poor college student, but there is a learning curve on what qualifies as "poor college student eating" in different counties.

After the Master's student meet-and-greet today (more free wine, woohooo!) I went with the only other person I've found from the entire Theology department to dinner.  Carefully examining the Thai menu, I realized that the only water offered, the tap water, was priced at £2.  This, along with the high price of alcohol, is why the vast majority of college students frequent BYOB restaurants that advertise "no corkage fee".  So my classmate, Em, and I bucked the trend and got mango juice instead for only 50p more.

So when in London, do as the locals do. Save some quid and skip the water: bring a bottle of booze instead.

PS- I swear I'm going to eat my weight in crunchie bars while I'm here.

My Funny Face and Sainsbury

PS: I got a cellphone too!

Orientation in the City

I haven't gone grocery shopping. I haven't bought bedding. I haven't put up my clothes. I haven't opened a bank account. I haven't gotten a SIM card for my cell. I haven't been on the tube or buses.  I haven't paid for any food off campus.

I have waited in a lot of really fucking long lines. Excuse me, queues. I have walked until I got blisters. I have gotten soaking wet because I didn't pack an umbrella (and I'm okay with that). I have gotten a lot of free swag from orientation. I have eaten free food and drank a bottle of free wine.  I have been asked for directions four times.  I have ordered whiskey, straight up, and gotten noticed for it.

King's held a reception for new international students with lots of food and wine.

When you're outside of the Strand and Westminster proper it is easy to forget that London is a big city.  Americans are used to associating big cities with new and tall. There are a lot of those buildings in London, but in some of the boroughs just outside of the central areas all the buildings only go to about four or five stories and were built ages ago.  Whenever I forgot how big London is, all I have to do is cross Waterloo bridge on my way to or from campus.  At night, the city lights up in all colors.

I'm Here!

Layovers

As I type this, I am two and a half hours into my 8 hour layover at Boston Logan airport.  Yesterday my mother and I drove up to Raleigh so I would already be in town for my early morning flight. When you're a Murphy, you learn to prepare for Murphy's Law in advance.  Knowing my luck, had I decided to drive up the morning of my flight, my car would have broken down halfway there.

We piddled around the city that afternoon, mostly wandering around the mall.  Mom got me Urban Decay's new lipstick in Shame (a dark berry) and a roller-ball of one of my favorite perfumes (Narciso Rodriguez for Her) as a going away gift.  I crashed early because I wanted to get up early and wash and blow-dry my hair before the flight to help me wake up.

So at 4:15 this morning I dragged out of bed and took my last shower in America.  After a lazy continental breakfast (They had peanut butter! and whipped yogurt! Yay!), Mom and I took the Holiday Inn shuttle to the airport and said our goodbyes.

The ladies at the JetBlue check in were really nice. After discussing my concern about having to recheck my luggage during my layover at Boston airport, per my booking through a discount flight website, they checked their records and figured out how to reroute it to my connecting flight to London.  Rechecking my luggage was the part of the trip I had been most terrified about, because my arriving and departing terminals were quite a distance apart and well... lets just say I have a lot of stuff.

The dark one in the back was overweight by about 15lbs. Extra fees but more books I don't have to ship!

I am still not going to feel comfortable about my luggage until it is in my hands at London Heathrow.  Knowing Murphy's law again, my suitcases are probably still spinning around the luggage carousel back in Terminal C.

The walk from Terminal C to E could definitely be called a trek.   I followed the signs hanging from the ceiling past baggage claim to were it veered off away from the other terminals.  Still following the signs for Terminal E, the area became more and more vacant until I felt like I was walking through an office building on Sunday rather than an international airport.  I actually did pass a lot of doors that were labeled as Employee Only offices, but the signs claimed I was going in the right direction.  Finally I went outside, back into another building, up an elevator, and finally, ten minutes later, I was in Terminal E.  And I had to go through TSA AGAIN.  The woman who checks IDs/tickets stared at my boarding pass as if I had handed her a monkey instead.  I had to explain to her that I was the only one from my previous flight connecting here, and yes, I was in the right Terminal even though my boarding pass had none listed.  She finally let me pass onto the actual checkpoint.  As I threw all of my belongings onto the scanner and pulled off my shoes for round two of the checkpoint, the TSA agent looked at me and said "You look like you do this a lot! Like a pro!". Gee, thanks, I guess.

So now I am curled up in a far corner of Terminal E trying to kill some time.  I raided the Dunkin' Donuts for energy ala a Boston Creme doughnut (when in Boston...) and a frozen Mocha.  I have never actually had Dunkin' Donut's drinks before, but they're actually pretty damn good. I may raid the Duty Free shop for chocolate, maybe a Toblerone, before the flight this afternoon.  I really should be reading, but who are we kidding, people watching and eavesdropping on the Japanese travelers (sorry, not sorry) beats that one by a long shot.

Loves,

Bored in Boston

PS: I REALLY really want to slide down the metal banister from level two to level one, but I don't think the airport staff would find it as amusing as I would.

PPS: I did not proofread this. So sue me.