So this is England, and this is a blog.
Exactly what I thought it would be--both of them.
Actually, that's not true. But how else would you imagine a blog to be. And how else do you imagine England?
Besides the fireworks that I hear popping outside of my window right now, England is just as you might think it is: Narrow streets, small cars--fast cars. Accents: it's Canaduhr, gayrawj and the loo. The houses are old. And it's possible that dentistry isn't a popular occupation.

The skies are often grey and the countrysides are green, but this all goes without saying, right? I'm in England.
This might actually be my fifth day here, but I might experience it as my first. The old, English couple I served back in Canada in June, the same ones who picked me up from the airport and have taken care of me ever since, dropped me off today at uni. So it is the real world from here on out--quite literally so though (you'll find quite peppering my copy now, it's really quite annoying actually).

Walking down Cromwell road in search of the nearest food vendor, I realized I'm in a country of some five million people, nearly all of whom don't have the slightest idea who I am, let alone worry about my wellbeing. This might sound trite, but it's slightly significant for a girl who has grown up in the same small city her entire life. And I'm not saying it isn't obvious either. Of course it is, and of course I've pondered the possibility before: that there is a world of billions, myself being only one. But it is another thing altogether to walk down a busy road in a strange country unaware of one's destination, and then to realize that in the real world (as painfully cliche as the phrase is), no one really notices.

So I thought about it but it didn't necessarily knock me off my rocker.

The real world also includes: bedding that needs to be purchased and still ends up being only satisfactory; imperative hair appliances that cannot be plugged into UK outlets, and endless queues of electronic store employees that are either quite incompetent or getting their kicks out of telling the Canadian girl it is practically impossible to use North American appliances in the UK in any way. In the real world, you will also find: clueless and much too straightforward foreigners (this isn't a reference to myself in the third person), a lack of towels and a lot of questions.

But questions are good; someone even went so far as to say that there are no stupid questions, didn't they? Welll there are rhetorical questions; I've heard "that's a good question," and I bet there is more than one impossible question. Oh, and questions of life.

Those must be the ones like, "why did the chicken cross the road?"

Hopefully there are a lot of questions in the real world, or at least in England, because apparently I'm finding answers here. I can't imagine answers without questions. Before I left, I used to joke when people asked me what I was doing in England: "Well, apparently I'll find myself there." Yes, apparently this trip is spiritual. Or is it supposed to be fun?

Will someone look up the word fun in the dictionary (damn, forgot to pack one of those), because I think it is quite possible one of the most overused words in the dictionary outside of the word like. Certainly England will be fun, but I hardly think it will be the defining word for this trip. It will be many things, including fun.

I'll tell you what would be really fun right now: someone knocking on my door with a ready solution to my severe lack of hair appliances. Jolly good fun. But in all seriousness, if anyone wants to post me an answer, feel free. Other things to feel free to do: send me a care package containing food (preferably sinful), money and or a small puppy/kitten; write me an e-mail; or show up at my door with that raedy solution to my severe lack of hair appliances I was talking about.

Welcome to England.