A weekend on the coast...

The city of Brighton, England, is known as the country's coastal resort town. It's where the wealthy and famous -- and yes, even common people -- have been vacationing for hundreds of years.

We took a 2-hour train into the city. We didn't have a map or a place to stay for the night, so we made those two things our top priorities upon arrival. We found an information office where we picked up a free map. We then proceeded to find a bed & breakfast just off the seafront. We had a balcony view of the ocean and breakfast was included. What more could we ask for?

We spent most of our time in Brighton just walking. And walking. Shopping. Walking the coast. Eating. Walking. Shopping. Walking.

Brighton Pier is really a sight. It extends a couple hundred yards into the ocean and is lined with doughnut and crepe shoppes, a huge arcade, a restaurant, stores, and even a carnival (with rides) on the tip of the pier. Imagine riding a roller coaster just feet above the ocean! (side note: We were planning to do a ride but we thought otherwise after eating a large meal of fish & chips.)

Brighton was chilly, but still comfortable. I didn't mind the wind and slightly cloudy weather. I was just happy to be on a beach. The ocean does something to me. I feel so alive when I'm near open water. Maybe it's the nature or ocean air or the feeling of being out in the open. I don't really know, but I love it.

Brighton is definitely a unique town... Or at least unique to the rest of England. In fact, I didn't feel like I was in the UK while I was in Brighton. I can't quite put my finger on what made Brighton so special. Maybe it's uniqueness factor stems from the excitement that the city radiates. Or maybe I just liked how "quirky" the city seemed. Upon arrival I felt happy and adventurous and excited. I even found myself wondering if I should have moved to a smaller city like Brighton rather than London... Working on the seafront of a foreign country... Living on the water and yet just hours from Paris, Belgium, London, Ireland, etc. But then I remember that everything happens for a reason. I chose London, and I am making the most of my time here. I live in the greatest city in the world.
Oh! This life I lead is amazing!

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On a more low-key note, work at London South Bank University is going well. I can't believe I've been working here 5 weeks already. I work on an IT helpdesk in the Learning Resources Centre and, for the most part, things are pretty slow. But, we have an occasional disgruntled student who yells at us in a different language. (Last week we called security, and somehow 3 police cars showed up, too). Today we had a fire scare when the fire alarm went off and we had to evacuate some 300 students into the street. However, on an average day, the most exciting moment is a paper jam that I successfully cleared.

Sometimes I feel like just a boring, 9-5 working girl. But then I'll glance out my office window and catch a glimpse of the London Eye (ferris wheel), or I'll spot Big Ben over my lunch break. And the people. You can't imagine the different types of people I'm meeting over here... whether students or co-workers or random people on my work commute. I'm surrounded by people of every color, race, ehnicity, and background. Each day is a learning experience here. I either acquire new facts about one of my co-worker's native country... or I hear a British opinion of Americans (usually something I have to clarify or explain or justify)... or I discover something new about myself... or I learn a new computer fact. I just never know what my day is going to hold.

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Tonight after work I'm going to see the Lion King musical at Lyceum Theatre. Roarrrrrrr!

x Ashley

The Love/Hate Relationship

I love/hate the Underground tube.

For so long I praised public transportation. What a miraculous idea --- public transportation. I pay. I ride. No traffic. No gas tank to fill. No worries.

For those of you unfamiliar with the London Underground (or the "tube"), there are several lines that run throughout the city. I live near the Queen's Park stop on the Bakerloo line. I have a great commute to work every morning. Most people have to switch trains to get on different lines, but not me. I take Queen's Park all the way down to the Elephant & Castle station... without ever having to switch trains.

This morning I arrived to Queen's Park platform 2 to find a sea of people staring at an empty train. I couldn't understand why they weren't boarding. Finally I heard an official say over the P.A. that the fire brigade was investigating a fire alarm set off at Piccadilly Circus. All trains on the Bakerloo were to be shut down.
Great. What now?
I got out my "London, A-Z" atlas. It would be a 6 mile walk to work. Hmm.
I could take a bus but it would only take me about a third of the way and then I'd have to search for another bus (or 2) to complete the journey.

Time wasn't on my side. I always leave with just enough time to arrive a few minutes before my shift.

The announcer came back on the P.A. and said that the Bakerloo line would run, but only to Paddington station. Bingo. I jumped on. At Padddington I had to switch trains and ride quite a bit out of the way. I switched to another train yet again before finally reaching my final destination of Elephant & Castle. Due to one line being shut down, the other train lines were crowded beyond belief. We were like sardines in a tiny train-shaped can.

People all around me are hanging on for dear life by the handles and bars on the train. I don't like being a sardine with my face smashed in a stranger's armpit. And I was 35 minutes late for work.
That is why I love/hate the tube.

I am a Singing Superstar on Valentines' Day!

Christine is our British friend. She lives in East London in a very posh apartment. Beth, Jen and I were excited when Christine and her best mates invited us over for a Valentine (Anti-Valentine) party.

Christine's roommate, Louise, made a delicious meal of Chinese stir fry followed by lemon cheesecake. They provided the food, so we brought the wine and chocolates. Dinner was an interesting mix of conversation. They wanted to hear all about Minnesota and Indiana. They thought we were very adventurous and brave for moving over to England with no job or housing or real plans. And they couldn't seem to understand why we had picked "dreary, cold London." We really had no explanation for their question, "Why London?!" We simply said, "Well, it's LONDON."

It seems so strange to me that they find London as just another city. True, it's cold and rains a bit too much, but it's LONDON. I suppose if you live here your entire life and are ready for change London might not seem that great. But to an outsider, specifically one who seeks adventure and history, London is a goldmine.

With the end of dessert our conversation about London also concluded. We moved on to play a board game... AMERICA vs. ENGLAND. haha. Sadly, the Brits, Christine and Louise, defeated us. We blame it on home-field advantage.

The night was still young so we played a karaoke game on Christine's Playstation. It involved 2 players singing into microphones and receiving points based on the number of words sung and notes hits correctly. Louise and I did a glorious Spice Girls duet. Other performances included "Baby Got Back" and Meatloaf's "I Would Do Anything for Love."

It was a great Valentines' Day. I improved my singing skills as well as my British slang and lingo.

Cheers, everyone.

I took a bath in Bath

Ah, the Roman Baths (Bath, England). The place where the Romans built baths and a temple around naturally-occurring hot springs. In ancient times it was used, as its name suggests, as a place to take a bath. Even today, many of the ancient buildings and baths remain.

My Bath journey begins on Friday afternoon. I left straight from work (southside of London) and hurried up to Paddington train station (northwest corner) in hopes of catching the 5:36 train with Beth and Jenny. We met up and made it to the ticket counter with time to spare. We were planning to buy a round-trip ticket costing £48, and so you can imagine the shock when the ticket lady said one-way to Bath, £68. Turns out the price was significantly different because we were trying to leave at rush hour. If we waited until 7:00 p.m., the cost would go down. We waited. Beth, being our "mom," had packed a bag full of food and fruit juices. We plopped down next to a bronze statue of Paddington Bear, where we ate our picnic dinner.

The train was packed, but we ended up finding three seats together. We pulled into Bath train station around 8:45 and immediately started the next leg of our journey by foot. We were off to find our accomodations for the night, The Prior House Bed & Breakfast. After a few wrong turns down dark alleys we found ourselves on the right road. A feeling of deja vu swept over me. We walked and walked and finally there it was.... No, not the Prior Bed & Breakfast we were looking for... It was the hotel (bed & breakfast) I had stayed in with my Harlaxton friends three years ago. I told Beth and Jenny about it, and they thought it was a cool coincidence.

The sight of the hotel got me thinking... Three years ago when I left the steps of Hotel St. Clair I never dreamed I would be back in Bath, England, and definitely not this soon. So much has changed in those three years. Six new cousins born. Two loved ones lost. A college degree. A cruise to Mexico with friends. A heart attack scare. Roadtrips. Games won. Games lost. A little brother driving. A crown won. Mistakes made. And lessons learned.
I look back at myself three years and wonder if I had any idea what was in store for me. Unlikely.

Anyway, back to present day 2008... We found our bed & breakfast just around the corner. The owner and her husband were out for the evening but had left has a note with instructions to a hidden key. It was super sneaky.... like a scavenger hunt....James-Bond-style. Okay, so not quite that exciting. We found our room on the top floor. It was lovely. Three beds. Quaint.
I took the bed next to a painting of a windmill. :)

Saturday morning we rose early to find a full, continental-style breakfast spread in the dining room. After refueling, we went down to Bath Abbey (huge cathedral) to join a walking tour of the city. It was really interesting, and the tour guide knew his stuff. I learned a couple random facts... For instance, did you know all the gates, railings, posts, etc, in England are painted black? Well, they are. You want to know why? When Queen Victoria's husband Albert died in 1861 she ordered that all railings and such be painted black for her mourning. They remain black to this day.

After the tour I went shopping and bought a bathing suit. Yes, a bathing suit in England. Beth and Jenny decided they wanted to spend a few hours at the Thermae Spa. It's a recent addition to the city of Bath and apparently it's presence has caused quite a fuss. You see, it's a big deal to build a very modern-looking multi-million £ (pound) spa in the middle of a historical city such as Bath. We didn't let that bother us. We spent a few hours sitting in steam rooms and soaking in mineral baths, just as the Romans would have done. Well, not quite the same, but you get the idea. The coolest part was probably the roof-top bath. We relaxed in the open-air waters while looking over the beautiful city and adjacent countryside. (And at sunset! How lucky am I?!)

Cheers, everyone.
More adventure from the weekend to come later :)

Jack Ford, 95 years old.

I spotted him across the grocery store. I was in the frozen foods; he in the bakery. He was the cutest thing I ever saw: not much over 5 foot, with white hair and a big overcoat. I noticed he was holding very tightly to a shelf of breads. I waited and watched. After I was certain he wasn't going to move on his own, I approached him and asked if he needed any help.
"Would love some," he said.
He said he was looking for some nice buns to go with his dinner. After helping him, he went on his was to the till (cash register).

I proceeded to finish my grocery shopping. Twenty minutes or so passed. After paying I headed down Kilburn High Road looking for the bus I would take home. As I prepared to cross the street I saw him again. This time he was clinging to the stoplight post and waiting, along with a large group of people, for the opportunity to cross the street. He looked up, saw me, and said, "My angel has returned." I gave him my arm and we crossed. Slowly but surely we made it to the other side. I have no idea how long he had been hugging that pole, and I'm quite certain he wouldn't have made it across that road alone.

I learned alot about Jack Ford on that bus ride home. He's 95 and getting knee replacements soon. Lived in Kilburn, London, nearly his entire life (93 years). Owns an apartment building, which is also where he resides. Alone. He has no family. He was in a war. I'm not sure which one, possibly multiple. Afterall, he was born in 1913. Can you imagine the stories he has?

Conveniently, Jack and I were getting off at the same bus stop. His apartment was in the opposite direction of mine. He said it was only two streets down. I asked if he would be alright. He said yes, but then he went on to curse himself for not bringing his cane. I said, "Only two streets away, you say? Why don't I just walk with you? I've never seen this part of Salusbury Road at night."

And once again, Jack gratefully held onto my arm as we walked down the road.... A road he has, no doubt, walked a million times in his 95 years, and one I had yet to experienced. He stopped walking and I asked if he was alright or if he needed to rest for a moment. He said he was fine, and added, "You're very good at this."
"What?" I enquired.
"Helping an old lad get from one point to the next."
I smiled. It was clear why he found me so helpful and experienced at this "job." I had, afterall, done it for Grandma Eloise a few hundred times or more. I then realized that I needed Jack on that evening of grocery shopping almost as much as he needed me. You see, the week following Grandma's passing was a whirlwind of funeral preparations and other sorting. Just two weeks after all that I was on a plane to London. I was sad through it all, but I never really mourned properly. And so that night after meeting Jack, in the comfort of my own apartment, I cried with my two Minnesota friends. I cried and I laughed. I told stories.
And I finally said goodbye.

Goodbyes of any kind give me an uneasy feeling. And yet I find comfort in the fact that I'm a Christian and a goodbye isn't forever. I also find comfort knowing that Grandma would have been proud of what I'm doing. Of course she was a little uncertain about her granddaughter moving to London by herself. (Honestly, who wouldn't be?) However, she also told me that when she was my age she was searching for adventure too. =)
We're a lot alike, Eloise and I.
I really miss her. Some days I even forget that she's gone. At Windsor Castle this weekend I viewed a huge collection of royal dishes. She always loved her dish collections. I thought to myself: I bet it wouldn't be a real big seller, but I wonder if they have a postcard of the royal dishes in the gift shop. Grandma would love it. And then yesterday a co-worker found out I was Methodist and he mentioned that there is a church where John Wesley (founder Methodism) preached and is buried. Instinctively I thought how excited Grandma would be when I would tell her that I went to a Sunday service at John Wesley's church.

I think she would definitely be proud of my adventure.