How is it going? Fantastic. I have found my one true love in the form of a country.
Today marks exactly one week since I first came here. Seven days ago, I arrived jeg-lagged and excitable, landing in a hostel that was A) awesome, B) filled with lovely Australian boys (I wore one boy's wooden Dutch shoes, ooh la la), C) quite clean and D) once again, just awesome (free breakfast included, yeah!). After one pretty bizarre night in the hostel, I had to move into my school apartment in the Bloomsbury neighborhood, on Bedford Place.
The apartment is standard, but a lot of fun. We're situated in the academic neighborhood, and everything is conveniently in walking distance. I've been to lots of coffeeshops, bookstores, flower markets, and so on, encountering many interesting people along the way.
How are the English? Exactly like they are on American t.v. - only better. I've already recounted a certain airport story to a few people: When I first got into the Heathrow airport, I had lots of heavy luggage. I was in a rush since I had been held up at customs, so I piled all my bags onto a trolley and without looking, swung this cart around, laden with 100+ pounds of tacky earrings, nail polish, clothes, etc. Clearly at fault, I proceeded to accidentally bang into the shins of an unsuspecting middle-aged man, who, instead of cursing me like any born-and-bred American, looked horrified and said, "So sorry miss!" He then made sure I was okay before rushing off toward the Underground. I smiled because I knew I was in England then.
I had been warned about this peculiarity of the British (apologizing unnecessarily) in the required course reading, Notes from a Small Island, by Bill Bryson. I have had to find out a few other British things on my own, however.
Which leads me to this entry's topic, Strange Recurring Phrases of the British.
Yesterday, I was sitting at a table, just outside a coffeeshop I like. It's the perfect place to people watch (Do you think Billy Idol would book a room in the National Hotel? I swear I thought he was leaning out of a window... I will check up on that later...). I was reading and writing a bit, when I noticed this dude lurking around in a red baseball cap. He looked over at me, and then he actually came over and out of the blue asked,
"Are you all right?"
"Um, yeah. Are you?" Why the hell was this guy asking me if I was okay? Do I look upset? I know I'm pale, but wow. I was totally weirded out because, how bad can things be when I'm reading and drinking a cup of tea? Things were wonderful! This guy offered no explanation for his inquiry and then began to comment on how he thought my handwriting was pretty, like a French person's. Eventually, he left and I just sort of shrugged off this weird incident.
Then today, I ventured way down to Norbury to meet a family who might want me to watch their children (who are adorable, by the way). I was walking down to the road the family lived on, when another random guy asked me if I was all right. "Yes, I'm fine!" Do I really look that much like a tourist? I know I'm wearing flared jeans over here, but honestly, I had neither my tube map nor Nikki's copy of the London A-Z book of maps out. I knew where I was going! I had eaten that morning! Everything was fine, fine, fine!
The more I thought about it, the stranger it seemed, and when strange things arise, I utilize Google. Which is how I found out "Are you all right?" is the British equivalent of the American, "How are you doing?" Weirdness solved. I was being unknowingly rude to these poor people who were only being polite. And now I don't have to be the uncivil American anymore.
And that's quite all right with me.
Dan, wearing his wooden shoes (he apparently wore them through airport security... Australians, hmm...)
The hostel room. There were five other people in the room: Three Australians, a girl from Turkey, and a girl from Brazil.
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