Twenty Four

Within the last twenty four hours, I have managed to:

- say a tearful good-bye to my family and friends for the next six months or so
- smuggle a Canadian orange onto my flight, across the Atlantic Ocean and into the UK
- fly across the Atlantic for the first time (I have officially participated in Transatlanticism)
- create a comfy bed for myself with three pillows and two blankets on the plane since the two seats next to me weren't taken
- sleep for maybe two or three hours
- negotiate Gatwick's customs line, luggage trolleys and buy myself a train ticket to Brighton
- figure out how to use British pay phones and come to strongly dislike them
- realize that voicemail here isn't what it is back in Canada (i.e.: it cuts you off at five seconds so before you've said anything of importance, you've lost your 30p or 40p - that's 0.75 to 1.00 CAD for a phone call!)
- carry all of my luggage (travel back, suitcase, carry-on, laptop case, camera bag and Nalgene bottle) while wearing a coat, two scarves and a hat down a large flight of stairs without falling over
- take my first taxi ride through Brighton, love driving on the left side of the road and not tip the driver (it's not customary to do so here)
- feel like I'm in Harry Potter Land and fall in love with the city
- be reunited with Immy!
- have a hot cup of tea while hanging out in the coldest house EVER
- take a shower in the coldest washroom EVER
- take a walk through Brighton, see The Lanes (love!), see the seaside (LOVE!)
- have a drink special to Brighton in one pub and deliciously mulled wine in another
- nearly get run over by a double decker while jay-walking across a busy road (and dart away just in time)
- be treated to a tapas dinner with my friend's boyfriend's parents that included my first ever dry sherry, sangria, and white wine
- get really excited to go to Spain and eat
- be seranaded (along with the rest of the restaurant) by the friend's boyfriend's drunken father in Spanish, supposedly
- pay ten quid (that's nearly 30 CAD! oh, the exchange rate is killing me here) to have just two more drinks in another pub (basically, I drank a lot of alcohol tonight)
- attempt to speak in a British accent (as a result of the alcohol perhaps?)
- go to the Honey Club and dance to different music in different rooms and have a load of fun
- lose the coat I was wearing which (belonged to my friend, actually) and included my favourite sweater/shrug from Beijing, my nice scarf, the gloves my brother got me for Christmas, some lip balm and gloss, a tube of liptstick and oh, look at that, my wallet too
(good thing I emptied out the contents of my wallet and put them into my pants pocket - now how's that for good thinking or sheer good luck?)
- realize that when bouncers in really busy clubs have nothing better to do, they walk around and find stashed coats and turn them in so that people have to either wait until three in the morning to get them back, or go home in the freezing cold without them and call the next day to get them back (we opted for #2 which means that I'm in England for the next week sans extra sweater and gloves - incidentally, they had their first snowfall the morning I arrived and there's an expected snow storm tonight - YAY)
- still like Brighton even though my first night on this side of the Atlantic ended badly
- stay up until three in the morning packing for my week alone in England and give my body just four and a half hours of sleep after a night of only getting two or three
- sleep in the coldest room EVER (they weren't kidding about that 'wet-cold' over here)
- start thinking in a British accent
10:01 pm