Day… I’m not too sure.

I’m not even entirley sure if it’s Wednesday or Thursday, let alone what day I’m on. And as I’m sleepy and not at my own computer, I can’t be bothered to count. Heh.

I do know that on Saturday I’ll have been in London one month. As such I’ve started reflecting a bit on my time so far.

I should mention that life took an extreme detour since my last post, so some of what I mentioned in there is no longer relevant. But I don’t care to discuss that in detail, other than to say I was about ready to fly home on Monday afternoon. But after some excellent advice from some amazing people, I’ve decided to plow through it.

Anyway!

I spent 8 months in the UK in 2005-2006, but in an experience far different from the one I’m having now. At that time I was here through a Canadian univerisity, surrounded by fellow Canadian students and instructors (for the most part), living a very sheltered life. Not to say there weren’t opportunities to become less sheltered, but as a shy, awkward 18 year old, I didn’t take any of them up.

Now I find myself emersed in the British culture and way of life. It’s exciting and challenging. Challiting, if you will.

I find being here like being in a strange alternate reality. It’s like Pete’s World in Doctor Who. Everything is so similar, while being ever so slightly different. I speak the language, yet can not understand what people are saying. It’s a strange position to be in.

There are the big things that most people know about: Driving on the opposite side, the accent, the outlets, the currency. But then there’s a million little things that I’ve just been learning through trial and error. The computer keyboard, the tumble dryer, looking the right way when crossing the street, the television times, calling landlines versus calling mobiles, and the terminology.

It’s not a store, it’s a shop. It’s not a backyard, it’s a garden. It’s not a buck, it’s a quid. It’s not a resume, it’s a CV. It’s not a cell, it’s a mobile. It’s not a closet, it’s a wardrobe. It’s not gas, it’s petrol. It’s not a pharmacy, it’s a chemist. And a million other little things.

I think I’m slowly catching on though.

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