Delirious Unpacking or The Brits are smarter just listen to their accents!

The beginning, its a very good place to start...
September 3rd:
I flew out of SFO at 10:30am. My Mother, grandparents and I spent the day before in San Francisco at Japantown. We paled around all day and had a delicious Japanese dinner together with my Cousin Olivia. That night we stayed in a hotel near the airport to avoid traffic. Before going to sleep my mom and I did some creative rearranging to stave of my last minute "packers remorse", (realized I wouldn't be able to get my backpack under my plane seat). Packing your life for the next 2 years into a suitcase is not easy, just incase you wondered. But there is something deliciously refreshing and simple about the success of it, because if you can't jam it into a few suitcases do you really need it? (I reserve the right to change my mind about this). That night, I slept, surprisingly. We got up at 7 left the Hotel at 7:45 and I was in the correct terminal, (after a brisk jog from the international terminal where I thought my flight left from, across the airport to the AA terminal), by 8am. I then made my way quickly through the line only to find out my bag was over the overweight limit. No worries, mom came to the rescue a few blazers were voted off the island and things were quickly righted.

A few words about airport goodbyes

I hate them.

I have gradually been saying goodbye for the past 3months. The airport goodbye is to me cheap. I don't cry at the airport because I have already by that point been through the grieving process, why wait until the last possible moment to say goodbye. I will concede that these remarks are coming from someone who is often found saying, "Is that thought/ emotion useful to you right now? Is it helping you get what you want? No? Then stop it!" (how's that for a grain of salt). So anyways goodbyes were said. Hugs were given and those are always awesome, I felt very loved! (thanks Grandpa and Grandma, My dear mother and my Father who wanted to be there.)

The facts or The boring parts
Fast forward through security, my last mexican breakfast, a 3.5 hour flight, a 3 hour layover in in Dallas   my last delicious BBQ dinner, a dramamine induced 8.5 hour flight next to 2 friendly British gentleman, a quick trip through customs and 16 hours of travel I found myself in the London Heathrow Airport!

Here I must say a word about my luck in finding a place to live. For those of you who have never tried to find I place to live overseas, let me just say, I hope you never have to. I spent months looking, frantically, and happened to get very lucky. I am living with a really wonderful family, who has already taken such good care of me. My landlady and new found friend Jan, has a Brother who happens to be a cab driver, and he offered to pick me up so I didn't have to navigate the tube for the first time with all of my heavy weight championship luggage, bless them both.


10:30 am London time 2:30am Cali time??? or curse you math!!!!
September 4th:
Jan's Brother Glenn, or Hip as in Hippo as his family calls him, was holding a sign with my name written on it in a huge crowd of people. I smiled at him and he asked if I was Katie. With as haggard as I looked, it's a blessing he didn't just run. Instead he kindly helped me with my bags and together we made our way thorough the busy airport to his little black cab in the parking lot. Along the way he explained to me that the main road, that he would normally take, was blocked with an accident and we would have to take the scenic route. We chatted as he pointed things out and swerved thorough the maze like streets and busy traffic of London. In my first hour in London I saw Hyde park, Big Ben, the London Eye, Harrods, a few museums, Buckingham Palace and the changing of the guards! He heard no complaint from me on our little detour! (you will see some of the pictures I took through the cab window at the bottom of the page)

It was fun to see the city of London melt into outer boroughs, still urban but more quaint. Until finally (now 18hours after my journey began) I found myself in Loughton/ Debden, my new home. Inside waiting was Jan's sister Boo and her daughter Devin (If any of you are reading this please excuse my spelling of your names) and a hot cup of tea. They stayed for a bit to help me settle in, Hip (bless him again) carried my bag upstairs to my room. And then they were off, Jan and her son Matt were at work and I was left to my own devices.

Delirious unpacking or the unavoidable paradox
Overcome equally and simultaneously by hunger, heat and exhaustion I had to come up with a game plan. There was no way I could, in this disheveled condition, cut out on the streets of Loughton in search of food. It was about 85 degrees outside (unseasonably warm and muggy) and I was wearing pants, a sweater and a jacket. I needed to change but in-order to do that I need to unpack, but in-order to unpack I needed to eat...BAH!  I Sat down, drank some water and began to unpack, this didn't take long as I brought very little. I then jumped in the shower (best shower of my life), changed, made myself moderately presentable and decided to hit the streets.

Uncharacteristic timidity or "The Brits are smarter just listen to their accent."
As I walked the few short blocks to Debden's, The Broadway where all the local shops are located. As I walked I heard a new little fearful voice inside of me say, "What are you doing? Where are you? Is it polite to  make eye contact on the street? What is a quid? Just go back home, try again later." Spurred onward by hunger I rounded the corner on the long street of shops and tried to make my way thorough the small crowds of people. A butcher shop, a barber shop, a bank, a bakery and there it was a Kabob shop! In the door way was a small gang of Turkish men and it took me 3 passes before I got the guts to force my way in. Inside was the most delicious smell. I ordered a lamb shish and was asked several questions which; given the dyslexia, jet lag, the fact that one of my ears had yet to pop from the flight, and the Turkish/ English accent; were utterly incomprehensible, all of which I responded with yes. While they cooked my food, I wondered if it was impolite to stand at the counter while I waited, or if I should go into the dining room with the local Turkish mafia. Luckily I little boy of 5 or 6 came and decided to flirt with me and before I could decide what to do, my food was ready. I wrapped it up, put it in my bag and waved to the little boy as the Turkish men smiled. Feeling a bit braver I entered the store next door to buy some hangers and a hamper. When I got to the counter I didn't understand what the man said but I handed him a 20pound note and he smiled and gave me change. I realized I was fooling no one, as I walked home to eat my shish. Since that day I have though about my sudden uncharacteristic timidity and have come to the conclusion that it must be the accent. In american pop culture the British accent brings with it a status of elevation, intelligence and sophistication. My American pop culture DNA was giving me an inferiority complex. It still is to a point, but it gets better every day.

Later that same evening...
I finally got to meet Jan my landlady, who I have already said is wonderful. Jan's Daughter and Son-in-law Haley and Richard, who live just down the street, brought home Jan's dog Bells. Bells is a beautiful English Bulldog mix and has quite the personality. She likes to it on chairs and she is so heavy that when she comes up stairs I always think someone has come home until I hear the thumping of her tail on the floor, outside my door. I love her, and it is nice to have a dog again! Haley and her husband are also lovely! We spent some time chatting while Jan picked up her son Matt from the bus station in Chigwell. They both work for american companies and travel to the states fairly often. Matt, Jan's son, is my age and just spent the past 2 years traveling around the world. He works as an electrician a few towns over. We spent the rest of the time chatting about both of those things while Jan made a dinner of Jackets. Jackets are essentially baked potatoes. We had english baked beans and ham on ours. Delish. I didn't last much longer after dinner. I curled into bed and didn't wake up until 10am the next day.


Enjoy the pictures below. Many adventures to come in the next Blog including braving the tube, exploring Westminster a looong walk along the Thames and groundling tickets at the Globe! (that post should be up tomorrow) Cheers!

First sighting of a double decker bus.

Harrods through the taxi window.

Hyde park

Buckingham Palace 

Changing of the Guard

Looking back on another Black Taxi

My House!

My Bedroom

Decorations 

Kitchen

Living room

Bells

Delicious take away chips and sausage

Debden, The Broadway

They have rhubarb everything here!