Hello, London.

As with any relationship, London and I have had our ups and downs these past few days. We seem to be shaky friends at this point, with a sincere hope in each of our hearts for something more. Fortunately, with each passing hour, I have accepted another of this crazy city's interesting quirks, and I believe her continual appeals to my heartstrings and thoughts have created more of a friendship than I had expected upon arrival.


There's a chilly breeze in this blank flat (apartment) and the many buildings outside of my window look inviting with curtains and furniture blocking the windows of my neighbor's little pieces of the city. We may not have much (really, nothing more than a table and a few ratty couches) in this room, but outside, London breathes deeply and heavily with excitement, comfort, and a distinctive personality different from anything I have ever encountered. 


She's calling me to come play. 
But, for today, I think I'll have a grown up come to the door and explain I'm feeling a bit sick and should "lie down for a while" (winkwink). 
Sometimes it's difficult to make new friends when your heart is with the old.


For those of you reading, new or old friends, family members, strangers--you should know I see you at every single corner and at every park bench in the near-by Hyde Park. I search for your voices-familiar signals of home-and my senses beg for smells and sights of something from where I came...besides a McDonalds or a KFC. I know you are with me on this journey, and I would never be able to do it without you. I would greatly appreciate it if you could hop on a plane and join me, but seeing as this city is more expensive than the American ones I just left, I understand if you can only capture your messages in little bottles and send them to me overseas.


Don't worry about the address...I'll find them.


London, thus far, is a city of chaos. People are constantly rushing, preaching, begging for change, bumping into one another-like little particles of a complicated chemical. Everyone seems to have something on their mind, or hidden in their accented words and actions-a little key to life-that only fits to the door of answers we are all searching for. But while they're eyes are focused on the street in front of them, mine are focused on the backs of their heads, their children, and the way in which they walk and interact with one another. 


It's quite a bit like home, and then quite different. (And now I'm using the word "quite" because that's "quite" common here...)


After re-reading the paragraphs above, I feel as though I should clarify the muddled mess in my mind for those of you reading. I've not slept (well) in a few days, my heart is heavy with homesickness, and my shoes are constantly on my feet for fear of contracting a disease from the carpet in this room. My eyes are bright with hope, but heavy with exhaustion. And my mind is full of questions, observations, memories, and the surface panic attacks of which tube-line to take to make it home. 


I suppose I simply had to tell someone besides my leather-bound journal about the conflicts I am currently experiencing. London and I are working out the kinks, and I believe in the next two days, we shall grow quite close. 


(She knows I'm in love with her cuisine, already.) :)


For now, I will leave you with an existential note of hope, happiness, and submerged bliss somewhere beneath this chilly, pale skin of mine.


It's time to close the window. But tomorrow is another day, and I think I'm finally ready to explore.


Good Evening, London. 
You may now relax.