London Southern Belle

my kaleidescope

 

At times I can walk along the streets of London and completely become lost in culture and nearly forget the country in which I roam. The diversity of those in which I brush elbows so incredibly vast I am amazed at what the city offers.

The streets buzzing. A kaleidescope of colour and sound nearly overloading my senses and get I crave more as if an addiction I simply cannot kick. London is an incredible place. I am thankful I have the opportunity to experience it all, whenever I feel inclined. I am gradually becoming accustomed to British holidays like the celebration of St George's Day [pictured above]. It all adds so much to an already lovely experience. 

Aced!

In order to gain naturalisation and a British passport, I had to pass the 'Life in the UK' test. Today, I finally managed to stop the insanity of procrastination and took the dreaded test.

My test taking strategies were in place and it paid off. I aced it with flying colours (Union Jack colours of course)! Now, time to fill in that application for naturalisation and hand over £655! (booo!) I will then have dual citizenship!

First site of spring

Early spring is in the air here in Londontown.  I captured this dainty flower on yesterday and quickly wished I could have shared my woolly mittens with her. I adore the heart on the inside of this flower - nature's little valentine to me.

I have seen the sun. For three consecutive days I have felt the sun and how glorious it feels on my face. The last time the sun greeted me with a certain length of warmth was before winter. It feels so good.
I ran across my very first blog post and wanted to share. Hard to believe I have been sharing my life since the date below.

Monday, November 08, 2004

The ultimate question this morning: Is it possible to buy the Eiffel Tower? If so, is it possible to buy it without being too arrogant?

My Purpose

Inspired by the former airline attendant who was fired due to posting sexy photos of herself taken on the plane-- I begin my very own blog. However, at this point, have no real job for anyone to take from me. Nor, do I plan on flight attending. Therefore, if I plan on splashing such photos of myself for the world to see. I may. We shall see how that gets on....

My life over the last several years has been forever changing. Changing for the good and for the bad. My first thought is to pick up a giant eraser and vigorously erase all the negative circumstances. Yet, when I reflect on those issues, I wouldn't have had it any other way. I have always been the type to learn things the hard way. It is almost as if I don't know any better. Regardless, those experiences have molded me into a new person. I know more about myself now than I have ever known. Granted, I have lost a lot. The "things" don't matter, but the people lost--they do matter. People that I have loved, that I had no recollection of ever losing or hating even. I use that term loosely, for I dislike the word, even though the feeling has overtaken my soul on numerous occasions.

So that is that. Maybe I will use this as an opportunity to post my thoughts, my aspirations, and my regrets. Or, could this be a chance to discuss life with forever friends or friends recently reunited.

I hope it is put to good use.  Most importantly, I hope our lives are put to good use.

Why not share.

Roots or Wings

I have never been one to take chances. At least, I like to think of myself as grounded and safe within the life I live day to day. Surprises have always made me feel slightly unnerving which in the past has completely spoiled the merriment for those who plan such moments of delight. Escapade weekends of “let just see where life takes us” [as handsome man o’ man gently puts it] is enough to make my anxiety itself hail a taxi back to our flat and find refuge in normal scheduling, a palm pilot and routines with no hidden agendas. “Let me check my diary,” should be engraved on my tombstone. If only I could let my hair down. Perhaps some day I will.

Since moving to England, I have found that I am somewhat forced to talk about myself. No matter where I turn and how much I [try] to disguise my steel magnolia thick as molasses southern accent, someone is bound to notice it. Immediately, questions follow. I imagine thoughts of,

“Ice in her tea? Oh, how absurd!”

Instead I hear,

“How on earth did you end up on an island like England?”

Or,

“My! You are brave!”

Brave? Yes, so I packed everything I owned into three suitcases [everything I could fit] and bought a one way plane ticket to England. And, I did it for love; love that found me in the most of unconventional ways over ten years ago. Turns out, I am capable of taking chances. But, does that make me brave?  Choosing to walk away from my southern roots and not fill a front porch of wicker chairs rocking a handful of babies. Fiddle dee-dee! I was twenty-five and unmarried. According to the old speckled hens on the second row [right side] of our family’s church congregation felt I might as well die an old spinster. Infertile? I might as well brand myself with the scarlet letter of “I”.

“You and I are one in the same,” a newly acquainted friend of mine said one afternoon as we sip afternoon tea and nibble scones in Liberty of London. “You have wings,” she said profoundly. I discretely pick out the cranberries from my scone and look at her with a bamboozled expression.

“Wings,” I repeated.

“Yes indeed.  And, not wings that live in a wire cage where you sit pretty all day and sing familiar tunes. You have wings that take you to life.” She then went on to explain how she never could root herself to her original home and felt the need to fly from the nest early on. I admire her travels to Japan, Morocco, India – these spectacular places she bravely travelled single-handily travelling alone to far off lands. It’s so Peter pan. It’s brave. It is …exactly…what I have done.

It took an afternoon tea spent with an old soul to realise that my life encompasses exactly what I have always feared most – bravery. I shall never forget my roots as a southern American girl, but will forever be grateful for my wings.

When is the last time you went to the zoo?

Most days my classroom feels like a zoo - me being taunted by the monkeys - but, that is beside the point. The last time I visited anything zoo-like was while living in Chicago. I frequented the Lincoln Park Zoo as it was in my neighborhood. I also would happily watch Mr & Mrs Otter and family at the Shedd Aquarium for a full afternoon. Perhaps I am sad, but I found it ever so relaxing to purposely get lost in museums or zoos, sketching and taking photography of tourists from afar in a buzzing city like Chicago. Many wintery weeks I hunkered down recluse-like in the corner of a local coffee shop, situated on the vivacious and energetic intersection of Clark and Broadway. There, with my laptop glowing, I eagerly worked on my writing. The locals are comfortable in their GAP jeans and hairy sweaters. They would have genuine smiles and actually read books and entertain philosophical banter. I felt safe there. For me, it was a refuge from the roar of the city. A refuge that smells of top quality coffee; the kind that you sip slowly in fear of not having enough pocket change for a sweet replenish.

Today's trip to the zoo was similar. Something different and far away from my weekly planner, heels and lists of things to do. It is nearly impossible to worry about life when there is fun to be had at the local zoo. We snapped a few photos of animals in a sweet slumber, had an ice cream each and headed to our abode. After we arrived home, we let our own feline explore the outside world and play amongst the daisies, lavender and delelctible bugs. Little does she know that she will have a baby brother next month. After feeling guilty watching her chase the neighbours dogs to play with them, we picked out a new kitten [that is also a Bengal] for her to play with instead. We have nearly made it in life - A eco-friendly family with one car, a home, 2 cats and a soon to be baby. Ahhh, life. It can be spectacular.

Enjoy the photos!

Pure Haven [that's southern belle speak for 'heaven']

I am surprised it has taken me this long to reveal such since living in England. Alas, another reason why I love London.

WC1

These five-star facilities are more than just restrooms. For a fiver (that's brit speak for 5 pounds sterling) stressed out shoppers (and germaphobes, like moi!) and women on their way from meeting to meeting, or work to date can relax, revive and be pampered.

WC1 provides hair dryers, straightening irons, toiletries and cubicles that are roomy enough to change clothes in. Loos are sterilised and hygienically sealed after each visit. A large circular powder-room offers space and good lighting for touching up hair and make-up, and attendants are on hand to
sell 'rescue products', from nylons and sewing kits to make-up and toothbrushes. For an extra fee, customers can book neck and shoulder massages in a treatment room.

With crystal chandeliers, stone floors, dark wood, fresh flowers and carefully calibrated lighting, the entire ambiance conveys luxury and spa-glamour, reflecting the fact that WC1 spent GBP 1 million+ creating the ultimate boutique powder room. The Oxford Street outlet is the starting point for what is planned to be the first chain of branded women's facilities in the world.

All the more reason to break a sweat whilst shopping, right?

Baby Buying = Home Buying = Merciless Property gods

Busy as a bee. That's me! While the excitement of our adoption process is overwhelmingly exciting, life must continue. Our living room is full to the brim with catalogs of baby furniture, prams, cot beds and colorful mobiles [and my graduate assignments that are due this Thursday!]. It is as if I just found out I'm pregnant and ready to make a nest for our baby before the arrival. My colleagues/friends insist this is normal. I feel it is borderline 'jumping the gun'. Nevertheless, I will continue to browse and refrain from buying for a bit longer.

The weekend was filled with over-excited phone calls to friends from work, family back home and text messages of "we begin our introduction to adoption course next month!" to those who actually have a life and did not pick up their phones. I arrived to work on Tuesday morning with a desk full of baby gifts and cards. It was surreal. To live with the thought of "infertility" lingering in your mind for ten years to suddenly receiving baby gifts is difficult to fathom at times. I still cannot believe it.

Going hand in hand with the motherly nesting instincts comes home buying. We are incredibly ready to buy our first home. The most difficult hurdle is my mind converting Pounds Sterling to American Dollars when viewing home prices. Come to think of it, when buying anything really. "That cheese is £8. That's nearly $15!" I must stop converting.

Our home-to-be here in England [we hope] will consist of two double bedrooms, one single bedroom [practically a walk-in closet], kitchen, dining room or conservatory [sun room], bathroom and if we are lucky a practical back garden with grass [back yard the size of a walk-in closet]. Sounds great, right? Wait for it. Homes here in England come in several forms: Detached, Semi-detached, Terraced, Flat or Bungalow.

Many homes here in our area are either semi-detached or terraces. The best way for me to describe a terraced home is a town house. Which is what I lived in during my university days. And, that is exactly what I think of when I think of buying a terraced home, "This is what college students live in!" That is not the case Queen's land. These are family homes. Yes, we could spend the equivalent of half a million dollars on a terraced home where we can hear what the neighbors are watching on night-time tellie. It is somewhat frustrating.

Yet, I am hopeful and it is just one of the many aspects of living in the UK that I am having to adapt to. I drive my car on the left side of the road, take milk in my tea and drink wine on my lunch hour - surely I can live in a semi-detached home.

Here is a taste of what our half a million dollar budget will get us in the area we live in...[try not to wince]

Thus far, my favorite is the light yellow cottage with the white picket fence. The inside shots you see are also of this lovely cottage. The area we are less than thrilled about. If only we could take a little from each home - we could make our perfect haven! Or, we can move to Northern England say, Liverpool ..

and buy a four bedroom detached home....  [just to add insult to injury]

At this rate, I will be having wine for breakfast, lunch and dinner!

 

Euro trash, Barbie & Ukraine Tranny

 
The blessed event - Eurovision 2007 made its glorious appreance on the tellie last night and I stupidly felt the the UK's entry had a good chance. We receieved 19 measely votes from our neighboring country (how sweet)  Ireland and a couple from Malta. Nineteen points is not good. Those of you non-EUs (that's European Union! *wink*) that have no clue what a bunch of Europeans with a vision on tellie is...I will tell you and you shall be a better person for knowing.

Eurovision is a once a year (thank goodness) event where each country in the EU selects one act to represent their country. As you can see even Barbie and friends were excited about this event! (this display happens to be a huge conversation piece).  There is the semi-final round where only a select will make it through. Now, the UK is considered one of the "top 4" and automatically make it through to the final (it is a no wonder we are not liked by other countries in this contest!) I believe this has something to do with funding, but I cannot be sure. After the semi-final  evening (which is not televised) the finalist sing live to win votes from countries other than their own. A total of twelve acts are chosen by phone in votes and narrowed down to which twelve receieved the most votes for each country. The presenters of Eurovision then speak to a representative of each the twenty-eight EU countries to get their votes. (We had out very own score sheets-- priceless.fun.)

And, so the moment you have been waiting for. A select few competitors from last night:

UK's Entry: Scooch

Ukraine's Entry: Verka SERDUCHKA Serbia's Entry (The Eurovision 2007 Winners): Marija ŠERIFOVIĆ

Ahhhh....Just another reason to live in England.

[photos taken via mobile phone. Excuse poor quality, please]

Quackity Quack! Don't talk back!

Last night handsome man o' mine and I went for a leisurely walk into the town high street. Our high street is lined with quaint shops. Quaintness that can never go unrecognized. Exposed beams, wayward and leaning foundations, sturdy wooden doors with iron door knockers tempting enough to lift and find out who is resting in their own quaintness. The pubs and coffee shops are spilling with those enjoying the freshness of the air in between neighboring smokes.

"Let's go and have a drink," my husband states as we gaze at the newborn ducks.  There was one baby who could not seem to get up the stream with his mother and the other ducklings. It chirped loudly, listening for his mother's reassurance that she and the others had not left it behind. Darren knew we were not leaving this tiny pond until I knew for sure this frantic duckling made it safely to its family.

"I have on sneakers." I gasped. "And, jeans."

He gave me the glance. The same one I get when he has arrived home from work early and I am on my hands and knees obsessive compulsively scrubbing the toilet in the bathroom. Perspiration soaking my clothing, hair tied back with vintage material and thoughts of, "darn it,  he can't know I sweat....  fart.... or snot..." And, soon to follow I get the glance from him that reminds me he loves me exactly the way I come - not always polished.

"Perfect. I'll order you a glass of champagne," he says with a smile as he grabs my hand.

And so, there we sit outside a french inspired cafe sipping champagne in my old running shoes.... It was the perfect unpolished hour.

Dearest Queen of England, do you ever get sock fuzz between your toes?

With so many happenings in my life lately, I am finding it increasingly difficult to write just one post with a single focus. My mind is currently incapable of focusing and the task is as daunting as not eating the Krispy Kreme doughnuts that are perched on my kitchen counter [oh how my heart loves a bit of comfort food from home right here in jolly England]. Yes, I think it is fair to say that I just managed to focus on something – a sugary pastry filled with even more sugary cream and topped with chocolate icing.  I hate to imagine just how interesting that post would turn out. Then again, with my thought process I am more than confident I could link cream filled doughnuts to philosophies of life. I’ll spare you. 

Doughnuts aside, life has been overall pretty fantastic. We have finally settled down after our initial meeting with the adoption social worker and I have made a fair attempt to stop analysing every single answer that we gave during the,

 “Now this is the part of the interview where we find out just why you think you are suitable to adopt.”

To give me peace of mind, we have phoned other agencies in London that are willing more than willing to interview us. I like a backup plan. It gives me security.

Meanwhile, we have regrouped, given ourselves one heckofa’ pep talk and enjoying moments like shedding my boots in Hyde Park and taking in the sun on the nearest park bench. I could think of nothing more pleasing to the soul at the moment than sock feet in London’s prettiest park on a day full of sun rays. I need more sunshine in the park kind of days. Days where my mind has time to ponder important things like if the Queen has sock fuzz between her toes.

Pencilling in planner...

park…sunshine…most weekends…for a much needed happier soul…