Best museum ever!

I'll admit it, I was the crankpot of the century yesterday. I was bitter about having to spend 6 hours on a train to go see war stuff in Ypres when I wasn't really interested in it. Plus I was stressed about figuring out Oktoberfest. As it turns out Ypres is pretty cool. The Flanders Field museum is phenomenal. It's pretty interactive and has a ton of stuff. Plus we got to climb an awesome belfry. It may be one of the coolest museums I've ever been in. They give you a poppy bracelet that's personalised to you. It's basically  a museum from the future. After this we're renting a car and driving to Munich to get sloshed. I'm happy Eric forced me to come here though. It really did give me some perspective. I've been complaining about not showering and training it for 6 hours which is a total cakewalk compared to trench life. To sum up, sorry Eric for being a whiny bitch. You were right to culture me.

Aahhh....finally a hotel

I don't have much to blog about today since Eric and I essentially spent the whole day getting to Ypres/Ieper. I won't lie, I have basically no interest in this place, but it has a cool WWI museum and I guess it's always good to be humbled by war stuff. The good news is that we have a real hotel room so we're living it up! I don't have to share a bedroom and bathroom with six other people. This is as luxurious as it gets.

What is there to do in Noordwijk?

As it turns out Noordwijk is kind of cool. Or at least our hostel was. We played Jenga with some New Zealanders. I didn't lose one game despite my lack of hand-eye coordination, so that was a big accomplishment. Then we went and stood in the North Sea under the stars, which was amazing. We also met this 20 year old from Edmonton who's skateboarding his way around Europe. He's taking trains and stuff, but skateboarding wherever he goes. He actually hitchhiked to our hostel. I wasn't aware hitchhiking was still a thing so I was pretty impressed. All things considered it was decent night.

I wasn't smoked by a bike!

This was my biggest accomplishment in Amsterdam. Those guys stop for no one. They're out to get all pedestrians. I don't actually get the big deal with Amsterdam, but I'm also not into pot, hookers, and riding bikes. On the bright side I hung out in a park, had some good beer, and got to hang out with Shannon. It was worth it, but Eric and I are excited for Munich because we're all about the beer. I find Amsterdam pretty in a lot of ways with the canals and the park, but the Red Light District disturbs me. I just want to pay for the education they're hooking for and send them on their way. That would require money though so they're out of luck. I think I'm just too old and boring to hang out in a place that's main attraction is getting high. So instead I'll head over to a place where I drink beer all day with guys sporting lederhosen.

So we're in....Noordwijk

Well, I've developed a charming drinking voice. If I didn't seem sketchy before I definitely do now. On the plus side, I got to shower so at the very least I'm clean. Our hostel is in Noordwijk, which is in a beach town/the middle of nowhere. Oddly enough there's another Canadian in our room who made the same mistake we did in booking this place. Basically Canadians are poor planners. We're meeting up with Shannon so she can teach us about Amsterdam and then who knows. If we're lucky we'll find a way to get back here tonight.

Belgium, it's been a slice!

I'm going to miss Belgium. Everyone there called me Robin Sherbatsky, which is only because I'm a Canadian with brown hair, but I'll miss it just the same. Today was pretty awesome. We went on a free walking tour, to a chocolate museum, and toured a brewery. Best fact I learned, Bruges has to have at least 62 swans in the city at all times because of an old curse. It's actually a law. Bruges might actually be the most gullible city in Europe. They also built a church for some guy because he said he had a cloth with Christ's blood on it. Anyway, we're on the last train to Amsterdam now so we'll see how that pans out. I'm pretty sure we're going to have to sleep in the train station.  No big deal.

When in Bruges....

Tonight we're staying at St. Christopher's Hostel in Bruges. We have hand soap in the bathroom so I'm pretty sure we're moving up in the world. I basically know absolutely nothing about this place except that I feel like a princess here. Minus the fact that I'm poor, wearing dirty clothes, and am unwilling to pay €2 for a towel. This place is ridiculously picturesque. It's filled with old buildings, a river, and people on bikes. I'm not sure what there is to do here though. We're going on a pub crawl run by our hostel because Belgium is all about drinking beer and Eric and I are apparently on a mission to develop alcoholism and/or need a liver transplant by the end of this trip.

Time for more beer....

My time in Brussels is almost at an end and here's what I can pass on. The beer is cheap and plentiful and Belgians may have a few screws loose. And I kind of like it. Brussels isn't the most exciting place, but it's fun and quirky, so I dig it. It's 5:30pm and we're already beginning our night. That's enough to get me on board with any city.

Brussels Update

I may or may not have thrown up last night from too much alcohol. In my defense I was drinking with a fellow hosteler, so I wasn't some loser drinking alone. Not in my defense, I only had 4 beers, but the last one was peach flavoured and that one shouldn't have happened. Anyway, I found the €1 beers and a place that has the Guiness Book of World Records for serving the most kinds of beer. I think they served 2,004 and they had a giant menu in alphabetical order. I would have dishonoured Belgium if I didn't puke last night.

Game on, Brussels!!!

I've arrived in Brussels! I amazingly didn't get too lost getting to my hostel. I was trapped in the subway station for a bit, but I'm pretty sure they designed it as an experiment to weed out the idiots from Belgium. Nice try, Brussels! After 30 minutes I caught on to your sick game.

So far this place is super random. On the subway a woman wearing trackpants serenaded me. And by me I mean the whole car. She even had her own mic. I'm pretty sure she didn't even make enough to cover the cost of the subway and rightfully so. It was 2pm. That is the least romantic time to perform a subway serenade. Everyone knows that.

After finally escaping the maze trap that is the Brussels subway system I made it to my hostel. They gave me a sweet map showing me where to get cheap beer, so that's what I'm doing tonight. Eric is either showing up late tonight or tomorrow morning. For me this only means that I may wake up in a ditch with no money/clothes and a wicked hangover...I'm sure everything will work out fine.

Laters, London! Brussels in T-13 Hours.....

How obnoxious is that title?  Since I'm bad at blogging while traveling I'll give you all a bit of insight for the plan in Brussels.  Eric and I will most likely be there for two days.  And by most likely I mean that's what we've booked at the hostel, so unquestionably two days.  The hostel is called 2GO4 Quality Hostels.  It was about $30/night each, so not the sketchiest place, but probably not the nicest either.  We're staying in a dorm room that can have as many as 10 people, 8 others if you exclude us.  It's apparently in the heart of Belgium, which is the true selling point for me since I'm lazy and love to walk everywhere.

This place almost seems too classy for me.  Why does it look so clean and organized?  What have I signed myself up for?  I know Eric's not reading this, but I call top bunk!  Above all else the true selling point is that we get free coffee in the morning.  Here's my question, is the coffee unlimited?  If so I'm downing three cups in 20 minutes and gearing up for the day.  I will drink my weight in coffee just to make the room worth the $30/night.

Welcome To Clapham!!!

So today I roamed around Clapham/Battersea/Probably somewhere else.  I have no idea what the areas are around here.  They just suddenly change and you don't even know it happened.  I think I belong to the Borough of Lambeth.  That's what I'm going with because I saw it on a piece of mail at our house today.  It sounds impressive, but anything that starts with "borough" sounds pretty sweet.  My phone says Wandsworth on it though and that's the nearest major road to me.  I like this because it has the word "wand" in it.  When you send me mail just put Lambeth/Wandsworth/Weird girl in a box on the street.  It'll get to me.  The post office and I worked out a deal.

Moving on....so today I went to the Southside Shopping Centre to buy some bedding.  I had bedding yesterday, but no comforter.  So I went there and discovered the beauty of Primark.  Primark is a place with cheap clothes and home stuff.  It's wonderful and I love it.  My roommate (Flatmate?  I'm not in a flat.  Does that make me seem less cool?) said he's not a fan of Primark, but they provided me with towels, bedding, and socks, so they're okay in my books.  If they supplied me with peanut butter we'd be true besties.  The peanut butter here must be laced with crystal meth because it's ridiculously expensive.  I know I brought this up before, but I found some in the corner store and it's £2 for a jar I could easily eat in one sitting.  Since I know this about peanut butter here I'm rationing the jar I have and anyone that comes to visit me must pay a tithe of one 2kg jar of peanut butter.  This only seems fair.  Where was I?  Oh, right.  Primark is awesome.  I love it.  They had some cute dresses and leggings, so maybe I'll get into that look.  Also, please note that I will bring up the peanut butter tithe a lot so that people take it seriously.  I think right now people think I'm joking, but they're dead wrong.  I will turn you away if you show up at my door without peanut butter.

Okay, so Clapham, my new area.

http://www.loveclapham.com/10-clapham-facts-you-didnt-know/643/

Here are some fun facts for you to read so you can get an idea of where I live.  I will point out that I've already seen that weird Sainsbury's and that cinema.  Most importantly, read #6.  Author of Harry Potter used to live where I'm living right now!!!  Yeah, I bolded that.  That's how stoked I am about this revelation.  I shockingly didn't know this before moving here, but if there was ever any doubt in my mind about the area I've chosen it is now dispelled.  JK Rowling and I are practically best friends.  Don't tell her I said that because she doesn't like to talk about it.



I was trying to get a good shot of the street, but I felt like people were getting weirded out by the sound of my phone camera going off.  I was trying to be discreet and epically failing at it.  Maybe I'll go out one day at 5am and get some money shots to properly show you what everything looks like.  Or maybe I'll learn how to work my phone so I can turn the camera sound off.  I'll choose whichever one takes less effort.

Today was remarkably sunny and beautiful, so I decided to go to the massive park in the middle of Clapham fondly known as Clapham Common. Naturally there was a football match going on because what would England be without a local game of football going down?  Then I just sat around this random pond for an hour because I'm unemployed and I can.

Welcome to Clapham, blog readers (aka my immediate family)!

Moving Day....

I may or may not be a bit tipsy right now.  Please don't judge me.  When my flatmates took me to the corner store they said "Will this bottle of wine do?  There are so many hours left in the day."  This a Sunday.  I love these people already.  A bottle of wine is typically my night out and for them it's a Sunday night.

Admittedly I was a bit worried about moving.  On the way here I was about 90% sure everyone on the bus suspected I got evicted.  I was wandering around with all my worldly possessions and I wore about ten layers of clothes just to get here.  I got some weird looks and my luggage kept bowling people over.  Not to mention the fact that as I was leaving my current residence I found some of my clothes drying on the heater (What are those things called?  Seriously, a bottle of wine.  I'm lucky I remember my name.)  My shirts were literally just hanging around the house and I had to tell the lady "If you find anymore of my clothes just send a message and I'll come back for them."  This stems from my social awkwardness.  Instead of giving a heads up that I was leaving I just went "Ummmm.....so I'm leaving now because I found a place to live.  You were awesome and thanks for everything."  I'm not sure why I didn't give more than 10 minutes notice.  I just didn't know what to say so I avoided it.  If a psychologist is reading this please diagnose me with something.

Anyway, I've been here for less than 24 hours and already I'm in love with my roommates.  Alicia, Mhairi, and Steve.  English, Scottish, and Australian.  They all love drinking and over what would be Thanksgiving we're going out and getting drunk.  I forget why, but when we made the plans there was a good reason.  It may have just been to get drunk.  Oh my gosh, seriously, I forget why. They fed me too much chocolate and booze.

Okay, so I know what you're thinking.  Did they just paint this place blue to distract from the poverty that resides within Brazilian style?  The answer may be yes, but in reality the inside isn't so bad.  My bedroom is a decent size, we have a washer (Why don't they believe in dryers here?) and the bathroom rules.  So it's not a bad place.  We're in a cool area that I love and we're near a lot of transportation.  Not to mention the badass keys.  What's with the three that are old school?  This place' is definitely new.  Is that just to make us think we're living in an old Victorian house? I have yet to find out.  I'm still pondering why we decided to go out in two weeks.  This is my new life.

How to print stuff and do laundry London style

I was on fire today.  I somehow managed to be super productive and now I get to do nothing all night.  I bought a blow dryer and loofahs.  This may not seem that impressive, but I've come to realize that I depend on Walmart for a lot of things.  Basically anything where you go "Hmmm.  Where should I get that?"  The answer is always Walmart.  They have just about everything, so you're guaranteed to find it.  I got a tip from someone about this place called Argos.  It's basically this store with a bunch of catalogues.  You go in, select what you want, pay for it, and then they call your number and give it to you.  It's a very efficient way of shopping and I'm kind of a fan.  It requires very little human contact and I don't get lost in the store.  Wins all around.

Then I went through the painful task of trying to sign my lease.  I had to sign and scan it to the guy because he's out of the country this weekend.  You'd think this wouldn't be hard, but without a printer or scanner it's actually extremely difficult.  I went to the Croydon library to try and figure it out.

Second library card down.  I'm on a roll with these things.  Two in less than two weeks.  I'm coming for you next, Clapham!

As it turns out Canadian libraries are like a dream compared to British libraries.  At the Croydon library (and presumably all London libraries) you have to register for a computer.  You can't just hop on one and enter in your card number.  You have to go to this creepy station and enter a password and then it gives you the option of booking a computer at any library and you're like I'm here why would I want to book at the one across town.  Anyway, I basically decided that was too much work and walked to a super creepy internet cafe where there were two cops interviewing the owner.  On the bright side I only had to pay £1.50 for the whole thing because the guy was so distracted by the police.

Now I'm sitting in bed watching Scooby Doo 2 and doing laundry, I think.  I feel like everyone here only has a washer, which is cool, except I don't really get how that works with underwear.  Is my landlady going to hang it up in her backyard?  Do I hang it up in the bathroom?  Do they do laundry every week because to hoard it university style creates a logistical problem?  This is how I'm spending the remainder of my Saturday...pondering how I'll dry my underwear.  

Frites biere, et chocolat....coming up next

I can't fall asleep so I'm looking up stuff about Brussels....aka my next destination.  So far I've learned they've got great fries, beer, and chocolate.  Basically I'm just going to find a bench to sit on and work on that.  Then if I have time left over I'm going to check out some peeing statues.




As for what I did today, I sat in the Tuileries Garden reading after walking along the Seine for a bit because I'm living the life of luxury and that's what one does.  They sit around in gardens that were originally made for royalty and piss away the day reading Game of Thrones.

In case everyone hates me at this point because I'm rubbing in all of the amazingness that comes with being a traveling vagabond, I will say that tomorrow (slash today since it's past midnight) will be very boring.  I'm doing all of the mundane things that come along with moving to a different house, such as lease signing and making sure I have funds in my British bank account.  So at least you can all rest assured that my Saturday will be just as boring as everyone else's.  Maybe even more boring.

Total side note, I'm already going through baguette and meat platter withdrawal.  Why did France have to spoil me with so many good foods?  Today I actually just walked around with a baguette because I was too cheap to pay more than a euro for my lunch.  I felt super French and classy, but I got some weird looks.  I don't think I was rocking a Parisian look with my plaid shirt and dirty jeans.  People may have thought I was a hobo.

Last Day in Paris

Today is my last day hanging in Paris. I have to sign a lease and figure out some bank stuff tomorrow. Then I'm meeting up with Eric in Brussels on Tuesday because I'm a baller. The other day I actually messaged my friend in Amsterdam and said I might swing by Amsterdam for a couple days if she's around. The fact that that's even an option almost makes me sick. No one should be this lucky.

This is the view from the balcony at the Boufforts. I want them to adopt me.

Paris....I'm too lazy for a title

Today Eric and I killed it. We saw so much stuff. The opera house, the concord, Champs Elysse, Arc de Triumphe, and we climbed up to the second floor of the Eiffel Tower.  Thankfully I qas a bit drunk. Otherwise I would have complained about the physical exercise.

Luckiest Bitch Alive

I wpke up to a spread that involved two baguettes, homemade jam, and maple butter. Then I roamed the streets of Paris while downing a bottle of wine that cost less than $5. Life is awesome.

Bonjour, Paris!

No big deal. I'm just in Paris. How much do you hate me right now? I took the Eurostar to Paris to meet up with Eric and stay with my old pal, Lucas. And by old pal I mean much younger exchange student from last year. Since the dampness and stress of London has reeked havoc on my face this mini vacation will be welcomed. I'm excited to relax, go sightseeing, and hopefully blow dry my hair. Bon voyage, London. That's what I said as the train pulled put. I got some weird looks from my fellow passengers. Anyway, the Boufforts are amazing. We can see the Eiffel Tower from our room. Please don't hate me.

Best Day Ever?

Today was such an awesome day!  I'll say it, the constant rain was getting to me.  It was relentless and my feet were always wet and I was getting distressed about a couple things, but alas, the sun came out to bless me with its sweet, sweet rays of joy.

Holy shit.  Total side note.  There's a website called mysinglefriend.com and you can sign your friend up for online dating and say what's good about them.  This is amazing and I want a single friend to do this to.  The advert went something like this "My single friend is a bit naughty.  My single friend needs a man, not a boy."  This would be mine: "My friend is super awkward, lives in pajamas, and swigs milk out of a jug."  Any takers?  I know someone wants a piece of this hot mess.

Okay, back on track.  Today I came to the conclusion that Barclays and I are banking soulmates.  We're telepathically connected and it's beautiful.  I had my appointment for my National Insurance Number today and I was like "Damn, I don't have proof of my address."  Lo and behold, my landlady shows up with three pieces of mail from Barclays.  So, that was awesome.  I was able to sign up for my NIN.  Then I go to the library and open up a library account.  As it turns out, they have different library cards for different boroughs of London, so now I have one for Wandsworth that I will never use, but that's not the point.  The point is I got it.  Also, this gives me a new London goal.  Sign up for a library card in every borough.  I'm not sure if this is achievable, but I'm going to have fun trying.

Seriously, their libraries are like palaces on the outside.

This image is really blurry, so you can't really tell, but that's me with my library card.  I took better shots, but trust me, you want the blurry version.

So I leave the library to head over to a viewing of a house.  On the way I see a rainbow.  A fucking rainbow, people.  If that's not a good omen I don't know what is.

Anyway, the house viewing went well.  I think I've found a place to stay, but I may have bullied them into it.  I just booked a train to Paris and I'm in coach 3, seat 47.  Another good omen!  Both of those are in my top five favourite numbers.  3 because it's a great number and my birth month number.  47 because it was my track number in grade 5.  The only time I was the fastest runner in any category.  Don't judge me.

To celebrate this big day I'm eating pizza in bed and swigging milk out of a jug.  You stay classy, San Diego.  That quote didn't make sense.  I just wanted to say it.

Dear Compass App, Thanks for rocking my socks.....

Major breakthrough!  I can't believe I forgot about this.  When you have an Android phone your google apps are synced with your account, so when I got this new phone all of my apps came back on....including  my compass app!  I feel foolish for not having remembered this before. I have the great misfortune of having an internal opposite compass.  Every time google maps tells me to go south east on a street I take a stab at what that might be and it's always wrong.  I should just go the opposite way of what I think, but then I think that will be wrong.  Today on my trek home from a bar in Central London I suddenly remembered the app and it was like a dream come true.  It showed me where south east was, I followed it and it led me to a victory.  To you, google app store I dedicate the heartwarming theme song to Golden Girls, "Thank You For Being a Friend."  I'm not saying I'll never get lost again, but at the very least I'll be able to follow the first instruction on google map.  For anyone reading this who also has no internal compass, do yourself a favour and download the app.  You won't regret it.

A Sunday Afternoon Spent Indoors

Today I'm spending the day in.  I was going to go buy some much needed rain boots and a blow dryer, but I've been pretty sick, so instead I'm going to lay in bed and watch Columbo.  I know this is pathetic, but since I'll be going to Paris on Tuesday it's a must.  I don't want to be a groggy mess in Paris.  How will I seduce all the boys?  That was a joke.  I have no seducing skills.  I just don't want to be that gross sick person.  To help me with my cold I'm taking the British equivalent of NeoCitran, Lemsip.  On the back it gives you directions for oral use.  I'm glad they explained it to me because I was just going to snort it.  I'm guessing that would have led to something bad.  Oh man, Columbo's busting his criminal.  Here's what I love about Columbo.  He pretty much just annoys the murderer into a confession.  He always knows who it is right at the beginning and then he spends the whole episode showing up at inopportune times to ask seemingly stupid questions.  "But why did you use sugar that day when you usually use sweetener?"  They just don't make 'em like that anymore.  If you want to get a mental image of what I look like right now I'm swigging milk out of the jug while eating Indian food from Tesco's.  In my sweatpants, of course.  Classiness has always been high up on my priority list.

A Stroll Through Central London

Today I decided to throw caution to the wind and head into Central London.  Prepare yourself for this.  I didn't get lost.  You can't see it, but I'm fist pumping right now.  Before you get too excited by this big development all I had to do was take the tram to Wimbledon and then take the District Line to Westminster, so it was pretty hard to fuck up, but that's never stopped me before.  Anyway, I made it and I somehow made it home too.

Total side note, I'm watching X Factor UK and it's so phenomenal.  There's a woman named Heather, but she wants to be called Souli Roots and sings songs about the recession.  I wonder if I can get in on this as her back up, Lil Souli.

Okay, so today I saw Big Ben, Westminster, Buckingham Palace and then walked through St. James and Hyde Park.  In Hyde Park there was some triathlon expo on.  It was really intense and my self esteem plummeted by about 80% just by being around all of the athletes.  They all had amazing calves and made me sick with their fitness level.  I was just starting to get impressed with my walking endurance and now that is shattered.

The highlight of my little walkabout was this.

I'm sure there's a good reason for why this is happening, but I don't know what it is.  All I know is that I'm so relieved unicorns and lions are finally living in harmony.  That was an awkward couple of centuries.

In other random news, I met the other two guys staying in this house.  Both German and very smart.  I had dinner with them and learned that I'm extremely glad to not be German because they crush children's dreams there at the age of 12.

The Subtle Art of Finding a Flatmate

I think I'm getting progressively creepy with my messages to people looking for flatmates.  I started off being very formal and stating my finer points, such as being easygoing and tidy (that's not entirely true, but by comparison I'm usually not bad).  Then I transitioned to saying stupid things like "I'm short and can fit in anywhere."  As if this is something people look for when seeking a flatmate.  It's my pathetic attempt at humour, but then I remember that usually humour doesn't translate well in these situations and I just come off looking like a desperate idiot who's using her small stature to her advantage.  Now I'm at the stage where I'm just laying it all out there and showing the world how unbelievably weird I am and hoping that someone else out there is just as weird as me.  Here's an example of how downhill I've gone.  There's this thing called "buddy up" where you can find someone who is looking for a room, but would also consider buddying up with someone to fill two rooms in a flat or getting get a flat with you and finding other flatmates.  So I messaged this guy and was like "Yo, you seem funny.  Let's maybe do this and we can find someone else to get in on it.  That sounded like I was inviting you to a three way.  I'm sorry.  I'm super creepy.  This was probably an alarming message for you.  I don't expect to ever hear from you."  That was almost verbatim my message.  Thankfully my address isn't on there because if it was the police would probably be arriving to arrest me tomorrow.  In my defense I'm still sleep deprived, but in reality I'm just letting my freak flag fly and acting like a serial murderer who finds their victims on roommate sites.

Update:  The guy who I messaged about the buddy up is actually willing to get a drink with me to see if we want to be flatmates.  I bet it was the three way comment that got him.

Happy Friday the 13th!!!

What am I doing to celebrate this momentous holiday/insignificant day?  Watching Murder, She Wrote, what else?  I'm hanging with my girl, Jessica Fletcher, solving mysteries and cracking jokes.  What more could a person want out of a Friday night?  Certainly not going out to the bars and drinking with other human beings.  That would require risking my life while a serial killer runs loose.  Seriously, Jason's like the best of the best.  He can use anything.  Crossbow, knife, chainsaw, his bare hands.  I'm not messing with that shit.  Also, I'm really tired.  I foolishly walked around for about 8 hours today.  Since I'm too lazy to invest in an umbrella and boots I've been combating the rain assassin style.  Hood up, crossbow at the ready.

Would you mess with that girl?  I've got my passport/serial killer face on and I'm ready for anything.  And by anything I mean watching Murder, She Wrote.  In retrospect, I should have spent at least an hour trying to find boots and umbrellas.  I entered the mall on at least five separate occasions.  There was no reason for my laziness, but is there ever?

P.S.  This is my 13th post, which I obviously planned.

Watch Out for the Humped Zebras

I didn't want to disappoint anyone by actually finding my way downtown today, so I got lost as per usual, but on my roundabout journey to the core of Croydon I found this gem of a sign.

This is maybe the most amazing sign I have ever seen in my entire life.  All I know is that a humped zebra crossing is basically a free for all where a car just weaves in and out of lanes.  It's dangerous to pedestrians, but hilarious nonetheless.

I'm sitting in the Green Dragon again.  It's 3:30pm and there are at least ten people drinking beer in here.  If I don't get a job soon I'm just going to commit to my impending alcoholism.  If nothing else it will make me more fun to be around.

Day 2: An Expert's Guide on Getting Lost

Obviously I've gotten lost about 15 times at this point.  I refuse to take full blame for this.  First off, the street signs are insanely low to the ground.  I'm only 5'2", so if they're too low for me they're too low for everyone.  Unless you're a hobbit.  I'm pretty convinced that Croydon was actually founded by hobbits.  On top of this Google maps told me to go straight through a roundabout to stay on the road I was already on.  That's not a real thing.  You can't just go through a roundabout.  That's the whole point.  You have to go around.  I think Google maps was created by a group of pranksters who purposely confuse me so that I can look foolish to the locals.  Here's where I am to blame.  I'm trying to trick people into thinking I know what I'm doing, so I never ask for directions and I just walk until I see something I recognize.  Oddly enough Croydon was designed for stubborn idiots such as myself.  The city planner of Croydon has done me a solid by making it so that every road somehow leads to the downtown core.  Even when I get severely lost I manage to get to where I need to be.  So tonight I toast my beer to you Croydon city planner.  I will say this for getting lost, it allows you to see way more of the city than if you were to just stay on the proper path.  I managed to find Croydon Minster and Old Town during today's roaming adventure.  They were both pretty cool and I'm glad I got to check them out.

This is a shot of Croydon Minster.  Admittedly I was across the road at the time, but I eventually got over there to see it and then found my way downtown.

Time for a tip of the day.  If you ever need to open up a bank account in England and you don't have a permanent address, go to Barclay's.  They are like a dream come true for awkward and unprepared travelers.  I can actually get a debit card with my picture on it.  I don't necessarily want one, but I like the option.  Anyway, they didn't need a permanent address, only the address that I'm currently staying at.  In fact, it was easier to open up a bank account than to open up an account at the library.  Since I have no proof of address I couldn't get a library card.  In all fairness to the library, I do have an outstanding fine of $10 back in Burlington, so I'm not the most trustworthy book borrower.  That being said, the people of Croydon beat me hands down though.  The other two people in line with me owed £50 and £28.  How does that even happen?

This is the main library branch (aka the place that denied me free books because I'm technically homeless).

Even though I said that I've been lost a lot I have managed to learn the name of a whopping three streets.  George, Wellesley, and Surrey.  If you're ever in the area just know those three streets.  George and Wellesley both have a lot on them and are on the tram link, so as long as you can find them you can get anywhere.  Surrey has a market on it seemingly everyday of the week.  My two favourite vendors of the day: Meats From Around the World (This included kangaroo and ostrich.  I have every intention of trying this vendor one day.) and Street Cheese.  This isn't actually what it's called, but that's essentially what it is.  You can just buy all kinds of cheese there.  Need I say more?  This is clearly a place I want to visit everyday.

Now I'm back in The Green Dragon.  It's officially my favourite place in Croydon.  There are always people playing pool here, I just heard the theme song to Veronica Mars, and The Simpsons is on TV.  I'm pretty sure the city planner of Croydon also designed this bar.  He's my hero.  I hate to admit it, but as of right now I'm on a bit of a Medieval times diet.  I've had more beer than water and keep eating various kinds of meat for dinner.  In an hour I'm going to challenge the pool sharks to a duel.

I'm still alive!!!

Well, I shockingly made it here in one piece.  I have to admit that I felt really cool going through the British customs line.  Although I had to ask the customs officer if I had to declare my peanut butter, so I feel like that probably brought down my street cred a bit.  Let me start by saying that I forgot how adorable England is.  I spent a solid hour and a half on a bus because it kept getting stuck in traffic.  I loved every minute of it though.

Things I saw and loved on my way to my temporary home:

1.  "School of Motoring" on the side of a driving trainer's car.  How do they even make that sound better?
2.  The area known as Old Malden contained numerous elderly care homes.
3.  They had housing named Maple Court and Lime Court.
4.  A corner store I passed was named "Newsagents and Grocers".  Again, so classy.
5.  The electronic's store here is called Curry's.

Okay, so I arrived at my place.  I didn't get lost, which for me is a big deal.  It's not the best place in the world.  I get the loft, which is sweet, but it's definitely an old place, but it's right off the tram line and close to stuff.  Now I'll let you in on a little secret.  Croydon is awesome.

This picture doesn't do it justice, but the downtown area is everything you could hope for in a downtown.  Loads of shops, cobblestones, and a Chinese food vendor, which isn't in the photo, but I had to mention.

Today is a Wednesday and they had markets all over the place and there are a million shopping centres.  It was insanely convenient for me as I ran around trying to sort out getting a phone and I found the bank, but too late.  Turns out the Brits don't believe in having the bank open super late like in Canada.  They close at 5pm.  I assume this is because their pubs close at 11pm, so they need to get a head start on drinking.  Speaking of drinking, I'm in a pub right now.  I'm officially that weird chick who's eating alone and doing stuff on her computer while everyone else is playing pool and socializing.  Oh wait, there's another guy sitting alone.  I haven't slept or showered for over 24 hours, so I'm not really in a social mood, but I also don't want to just go and sit in a room.  Instead I'm writing this while guzzling down a pint.  I would be completely satisfied if this was the rest of my life.  Unfortunately, I'll have to find a job at some point.

This place is called The Green Dragon and it's pretty awesome.  I may come back here tomorrow for lunch.  Mainly because they have free wifi and they didn't ask for my ID when I ordered a beer.

On the agenda for tomorrow:  Open up my bank account, look at an apartment, maybe apply to some jobs, walk around the market, and probably try some Chinese street food.

Sketching it out at Buffalo Airport

I'm sitting in the Buffalo airport waiting for the first leg of my flight.  Now that I'm finally done with my goodbyes I can see that I was a major drama queen in the first part of this blog.  I mean I quoted Jen Lindley.  That was actually awesome.  I would quote DC everyday if I thought it was appropriate.  Anyway, I was majorly self indulgent writing posts about how I need to be strong and I want to grow up.  That was uncalled for and I sincerely apologize.  I feel like I apologized before, but I thought I'd do it again because I really mean it.  On a lighter note, I'm starting to get really excited because now I'm in an airport and I get to tell everyone I meet that I'm moving to England.  So far I met an old lady in the security line and I told her that I wish I was wearing sunglasses so that everyone couldn't see that I was crying, but that might make me seem suspicious.  Needless to say I did not make a new friend out of this woman who looked upon me with total pity.  I'm now donning my sunglasses and I feel like a giant tool, but the alternative is that people see my freakishly bloodshot eyes.  This is a combo of my sleep deprivation and crying (and my meth addiction).  I'm mentally exhausted, but so insanely excited to get to London.  I've looked up some coffee shops and pubs so I can at least go out for a bit if I want to when I arrive.  Thankfully everything in the area closes around 11pm, so I don't have to feel like a loser when I leave the bar at 10pm.  Only an hour before close is totally legit.

Yeah, this is the look I'm currently rocking.  I will not be making any friends at the airport today.  When you're in Buffalo and you're the sketchiest person you can see you know something's wrong.

So Long, Canada! Don't forget me.....

Good morning, old sports.  I just finished watching Great Gatsby with my mom.  I thought I'd try out Gatsby's catch phrase since it made him extremely wealthy and popular, but I'm not Leonardo DiCaprio, so I have a feeling I can't pull it off.  Gatsby also dies alone at the end so I'm not entirely sure I want to emulate him anyway.  I've now given away at least three endings to shows and movies in this blog.  I'm kind of an asshole.

Since it's past midnight it's officially the day of my departure. 1:40pm from Buffalo.  I have a huge layover in Chicago, which I sort of don't mind.  I almost always have massive layovers when I travel and I find them oddly calming.  It's one of the few times in life where you don't have to justify your laziness because there's nothing to do.  I like to sleep with my sunglasses and baseball cap on.  I like to think I'm tricking people with that outfit, but obviously everyone knows you're sleeping and they don't care.

Anyway, I'm very sad to be leaving Canada because once again I think it's a great place and I love all my family and friends.  On the other hand, I'm so excited to be going to England.  Despite the fact that I have a zombiesque look to me from the lack of sleep and constant nausea, I'm actually feeling pretty good.  I'm fairly certain I'll get lost when I first arrive because no matter how hard I try to follow directions I always manage to get lost, but I've got all day to figure it out so it doesn't matter.  Once I arrive where I'm staying I have to promptly message my family because they're convinced I'll be dead within an hour of arriving in London.  After that I'll likely pass out and sleep until someone's poking me with a stick to check whether or not I'm dead.  Then I'll eat some dinosours and begin my adventure......

Ode to Bean

I promise that my incessant posting will taper off once I hit London.  I'm on my computer all the time right now trying to figure stuff out, so I'm completely neurotic and forcing anyone who reads this blog to share in my neurosis.  It's not pretty and I look forward to being a somewhat normal person again soon.

Today's post is dedicated to my favourite living creature on this planet.  Her name is Abby, but I like to call her Bean/Love of My Life.  This naturally concerns my family because I'm in love with a dog instead of a human.  My mom especially dies a little every time I talk about how I'll never love anyone as much as Bean.  It means that the chances of her getting grandchildren out of me are fading into the distance.  Okay, so Bean is my dog and I'm completely obsessed with her.  I've repeatedly said that she's the one I'll miss the most and so far she's the only one I've cried over.  I realize this is pathetic and that after a month she'll forget I even exist, but after 12 years of feeding, walking, and sharing a bed with her I can't help it.  Dogs are just the best because as long as you take care of them and show them a bit of love they'll love you unconditionally.  Before we got Bean I'd actually spent 7 years begging for a dog.  I waited and waited, so when we finally got her I went crazy.  I was obsessed with her from the beginning.  Now we're at the point where we've taken on each other's habits.  She goes up to bed at 10pm because that's when I usually head up.  Her favourite food is peanut butter because that's what I always feed her.  Well, actually it might be cheese, but all animals just love cheese.  That doesn't sound like much, but there's more.  I just don't want to sound like a total loser.  Although I'm pretty sure it's too late for that.

I forced Bean to take this picture with me last night.  This is probably a good indication of what our relationship is like.  She only likes me when I'm feeding or walking her and I like her all the time.

This one's for the lovers......

Disclaimer: This post title doesn't relate to anything you'll read below.  I was too lazy to think of a proper title and I thought I'd throw in an obscure Love Actually reference because I don't want to wait until Christmas to have to start using Love Actually quotes as post titles.  I don't have that kind of self control.

I'm sure nobody is actually looking at this on a regular basis, but if you are and you're wondering why the blog looks nothing like it did before it's because I have ADD and got bored with the other one.  In my defense the other one was very dark and somber.  Or perhaps it was sophisticated and this new one just looks like a 5 year old went bananas designing it.  Either way the blog is likely to change again very soon because I'm not sure how I feel about what's happening with this one.  Again, the only thing that's for sure staying is the Dawson's Creek inspired rock salt font.  That's going nowhere.

I'm not going to say much here except that the BBQ went surprisingly well.  I almost cried 17 times, which is weird because I find crying to be weak and humiliating, but I couldn't help it.  Everyone was so nice and encouraging.  If you've read the previous two posts you probably noticed that I was having a minor meltdown.  This is precisely the reason why I haven't told my friends and family the name of my blog yet.  I'm too nervous that if they see it they'll lock me up in an insane asylum before I get the chance to flee the country.  Anyway, the point is that I have some truly amazing friends and family.  They made me feel like this is actually a good decision and that I'll have fun doing it.  If I can keep riding this good feeling my posts will hopefully stop being so self indulgent and I'll avoid using giant pictures of Dawson's Creek.  That was more for me than anyone else.  My apologies.

Tip of the Day and some DC Wisdom

Basically every time I start to gain confidence about this move someone likes to swoop in and give me a reality check.  They like to bring up that the job market blows or that since I'm a 5'2", scrawny girl there's a good chance I'll be stabbed and mugged if I stay out past 7pm.  It's at this point that a spiral into panic mode and think that I'm making a huge mistake and this whole thing could be a disaster.  The simple solution would be to stop talking to people, but that's not a viable option on the day of my BBQ.  So here's my tip of the day.  If you're ever making a big life change and have severe anxiety issues like myself consider running on a treadmill.  This will likely be the first and last time I endorse any sort of physical activity.  I pretty much only go to the gym so that I can eat more ice cream later that day, so to mention it even once is a bit hypocritical.  However, I've found that for the past couple of weeks my trips to the gym have been the only time I can stop thinking about my move.  When I'm running on a treadmill all my focus has to be on moving because otherwise I'll get slammed into the control panel and be the laughing stock of my gym.  That's why I recommend the treadmill over running in general.  You can just stop running, but on the treadmill you have to keep moving.  If you run on a treadmill at a gym you also feel the pressure to impress the physically fit people around you.  Even after I'm done at the gym I have about a solid hour of clarity where I remind myself that shit happens.  I might not be able to find a job and I might hate living in London, but I can always come home.  This whole thing will be worth the risk in the end because when I'm old I'll be able to know that at least I tried it out.  I've wanted to live in England since I was a kid and if I never even attempted it I'd be one of those old ladies bitching about missed opportunities that all the nurses hate because they're bitter and always hitting people with their canes.

Now time for some true wisdom from the most underrated character on Dawson's Creek, Jen Lindley.  She's a fucking sage and if you ever get a chance just look up quotes from the series finale.  She basically just throws out wisdom bombs every time she's on screen.

"You’re just gonna sit here for your entire life waiting and hoping for the world to come to you? Because the point of those stories, Joey, is that people’s lives – their real lives – only begin when they step out into the world. And when you do that, when you meet it head on, maybe you change the world, maybe you don’t, but the point is that it changes you. And that is what people mean when they talk about growing up."



That's not actually from the finale, but it sums up what I should be saying to all the people who like to force me to think about reality.  Jen Lindley gets it and so should everyone else.  I'm trying to force myself to grow up instead of waiting for something to happen.  I should have done it when I was 22, but I was poor and lame back then.  Now I'm still lame, but I have money so that's good enough for me.

So Long, Farewell....I'll see you at the BBQ

So straight up, that last post barely made any sense.  I'm blaming it on the sleep deprivation.  I'm pretty sure at the beginning I was going on and on about getting lost and how that's my #1 concern and then later on I said it was going to be my inability to make any friends.  I don't doubt that I'll struggle to make friends, but I'm a hermit, so that wouldn't be a primary concern of mine.  An ideal night for me is when I'm in my pajamas at 7pm and watching a TV marathon of anything.  If I make any friends in London it will be a miracle.  Sorry, that was a tangent.  The point is, my posts will be incoherent until I get settled in London.  After that they'll probably still be incoherent, but then it will be from the meth (Once again meth is code for McDonald's.  I'm just trying to impress people by acting as if I know what a meth bender is even like.  I imagine it's very similar to my food comas after McDonald's, which is why I'm acting like they're interchangeable.)

Since today is my farewell BBQ and I have to say goodbye to a bunch of people I guess I'll talk about the awkwardness of saying goodbye.  I feel like I'm being sent to my death in London.  Everyone's acting like I'll never return to Canada in my lifetime.  As if I'll move to England and immediately decide that Canada blows and everyone there can suck it.  I'm going to take this opportunity to tell my friends and family that I love them and no matter what I will find a way to come back and see them.  I'm not going to London and never turning back.  There's a good chance that after six months I'll decide that I miss my dog too much and run back home to her.  Even if I don't do that I can still just buy a plane ticket to come home and visit.  Until that time there's Skype and my annoying emails.  There are so many ways to communicate long distance these days that it's amazing anyone is ever missed.  People will probably be begging me to stay away once they discover what life is like without me.  I guess I'm saying all this because I'm not a fan of goodbyes.  I don't like the finality that it implies, so instead I'm telling everyone I'll see them later because unless some freak accident happens I will.  That being said, I know that some people like a proper goodbye and I'm sorry that I've denied you that by dismissing the whole thing.  I'm also going to add that I love Canada and it definitely doesn't blow.  I think it's a great country and I'm so proud to be from here.  I'm only leaving it to pick up some awesome British slang and to get married to a lord that looks and acts like Colin Firth.  Then I will return to Canada a hero....or at the very least a lady.

Okay, I could not look more awkward in this picture, but I'm trying to prove that I love Canada by forcing my brother to stand on his bed in front of his Canadian flag with me.  I don't know why I'm defending my love for Canada so much in this post.  I'm about 93% sure Stephen Harper and/or Border Security aren't reading this blog, so they're not going to stop me from reentering the country.  Even if they did happen to stumble upon this they have to let me back in anyway because I'm  a citizen.  I should probably go to sleep now.  This is a ridiculously long post and I'm about five seconds away from posting the first verse of O Canada.

How Game of Thrones Calms My Nerves

Okay, I changed the colours on my blog, but only temporarily.  I was overwhelmed with the choices and basically just settled on the most hideous layout.  My apologies to anyone viewing it.  I'll change it one day.  Possibly when I'm drunk because I think it can only improve my sense of style.  On the bright side, I found the rock salt font for the title and it totally looks like the font used for Dawson's Creek.  That font will be staying and possibly used for every post from here on out.

Time for the real purpose of this post.  I'm at the point in my moving preparations where I'm intensely nervous about everything.  All of a sudden I'm having panic attacks about everything.  What if I make no friends?  What if three days in I get slammed with homesickness?  What if the people at McDonald's don't find it endearing that I'm ordering a Happy Meal everyday?  I pretty much get this any time I'm going somewhere new.  My main problem is that I get lost everywhere I go, so leaving the house to go anywhere new is always daunting.  I have a bad sense of direction, which is bad enough, but on top of that I also like to commit to a route that I know is wrong.  Even when I'm sure I've gone the wrong way I'll keep going for another 20 minutes until I've confirmed it's the wrong way.  At least where I live now I know that if I just start heading south eventually I'll hit Lake Ontario.  I'm not sure in London I'll have that luxury and that's a bit frightening.  Fortunately for me I've been reading Game of Thrones lately (I'm currently reading A Feast for Crows, the fourth one).  Even though I know that it's a work of fiction it always provides me with comfort.  The women in those books are all brave in their own way, even when they're scared.  I'm not saying that the move I have chosen to make is anything like what the characters in GOT go through.  My biggest hurdle is basically overcoming my social awkwardness to make new friends.  The ladies of GOT however are tough as nails.  They've killed people, slept with men to get what they want, watched their children die, birthed dragons, and been resurrected from the dead.  They've done it all.  They're awesome and if I ever need inspiration to get through a tough time I'm turning to the works of George R.R. Martin.  Moving to London is small potatoes compared to burning the corpse of your husband after unknowingly sacrificing your unborn child to keep him alive.  If nothing else I think I can assume my life in London will be easier than that.

P.S.  I'm sorry if I've spoiled Game of Thrones for anyone.  Also, please don't judge me for using fictitious characters to overcome my undiagnosed anxiety disorder.  It's totally nerdy, but that's what happens when you read books as a kid instead of playing in the park with other children.

2012 Packing List. Disclaimer: This post will make you pity me and fear for my life.

Well, I thought that putting my teddy bear as my #1 item to pack was the low point in my trip planning, but it turns out I was wrong.  May 11, 2012 was my true low point.  The #1 item on that packing list:  Lizard.  It’s a mini replica of a tile lizard found in Guell Park in Barcelona.

Don’t get me wrong, I like the lizard.  He’s cool and he reminds me of Spain, which is always good because Spain is warm and fun, but would I regret leaving the lizard behind?  He didn’t make it on my second packing list, so evidently not.  Not only did I have this on my list, but I also had three blankets on there.  I was actually prepared to bring a separate suitcase just for my blankets.  On one hand it frightens me that I was ever that irrational, but on the other hand I’m glad that I eventually came to the conclusion that 70% of the items on that list were completely unnecessary and you’d have to be a bona fide hoarder to want to bring them.  I’m going to say that I was most likely on a meth bender at the time.  And by meth bender I probably mean a sugar and/or McDonald’s high.  It’s the only explanation for that temporary insanity.  On the plus side, I’m almost done packing and I think about 90% of what I’ve packed makes sense.  Of course at one point and time I actually wrote down that I wanted to pack an “orange horse”, so who knows if my most recent and hopefully final pack job is actually that of a normal human being. 

*By orange horse I meant Pokey from Gumby.  This doesn’t make it any less bizarre, but at least the orange horse is sort of an action figure.  I couldn't actually find Pokey (that is how little I care for the item that was previously #10 on my packing list), but this what he looks like.

T-7 Days Until Departure.....

It’s officially one week until I leave for England! As you can see, my blog title is a bit presumptuous. It implies that I’m actually knowledgeable on moving to a different country and that my move will be a successful one. I’m hoping it will trick my family and friends into thinking I know what I’m doing so they don’t fear for my life. In reality my priorities regarding this move are a bit ridiculous. Example #1: The top item on my packing list is my teddy bear. Example #2: So far I’ve packed three journals and a small part of me wants to pack a fourth Harry Potter journal. Apparently I’ve got space to spare in my bags and assume that my impending loneliness will lead to a lot of self-reflection. Example #3: The first thing I want to do when I arrive in London is go on a Harry Potter tour. I don’t have a place to live or a job, but I can put these minor details on the back burner. Learning about where Harry Potter was filmed is far more important. Besides, I’m already prepared for my future career as a panhandler (after I can’t find a job because I have no skills), so I don’t have to worry about things like money. Thanks to my favourite show, The Simpsons, I know all about the six schools of begging. Bad musician, messed up vet, cripple, fake cripple, religious zealot, and crazy guy. If I run for over thirty minutes I might be able to pull off fake cripple. On my lazier days I’ll go for religious zealot. I already go to church, so I figure I’m halfway there. I’m sure my family has found this post very comforting and are relieved to hear that I have a firm plan in place.