here we are.

Well. I think I’ve become a woman. Who ever said you have to have babies and get married before you’re a woman maybe doesn’t know the victory and triumph of successfully being independent. I’ve maneuvered my person and my scarce belongings across the ocean through train stations and airports with few mishaps—but close calls—to a new home. This is a fascinating endeavor, and everyone has been so nice. Things of note: every person who has helped me in different stores calls me “love” and “sweethaht”. This makes me feel so special, and I always flash this hopeless grin, because what perfect stranger in America would call me love? But I think they really do this with every girl, and so I shouldn’t get so excited. I’m in surreal, numb, exhausted, travel mode as I write this and I don’t think any of my experiences have fully soaked in yet. Lindsey and I arrived to London at 6:30 this morning, and we immediately hopped on the tube (subway) to Paddington Train Station in central-ish London to catch a train to Swansea. Right now I’m sitting in Paddington, surrounded by mounds of ridiculous luggage, while Lindsey has traipsed off to take a picture. A pigeon just landed on the floor next to me (this is an indoor station, mind you) and is searching for crumbs. To his dismay, I cannot figure out how to exchange my money at the moment and thus I have no crumbs to drop for him, much less for me. Other notable things: British people’s teeth are outrageously crooked…compared to American teeth, since every kid and their mother had braces at one time. At the same time, I think I have never seen more beautiful people. Europeans are not tan, rarely blond, and not really tiny/petite, which seems like the beauty standard in the US. Still, these people are so gorgeous. Perhaps it’s their style. It reminds me of how mary poppins might dress if she decided to ride her umbrella to the 21st century. I don’t know how to explain what I mean, but that’s what it seems like….
I think maybe only in Europe could I sit and listen to people all day long and feel no need to talk. They have such a beautiful, fluid vocabulary. And, bless my heart, it’s all I can do to NOT respond with my own fluttery, butchered imitation. A habit I seem to have taken to: staring. Awkward, long stares at people. Staring to the point where they look at me with that “yeeeees?” expression. I probably do it because everyone is so pretty. I don’t really know what the deal is, but I should probably stop. Well, I just figured out how to exchange money, and I had maybe the best salad I’ve ever had. Spinach, fresh mozzarella, avocado, cherry tomatoes, and pesto. It was incredible. At a train station. We are leaving for Swansea soon so I will add to this later. Farewell for now.