It’s funny frequently thinking about your nationality. You (or at least I don’t) don’t think about the country you are from until you are outside of it. Over here, I’m like, “Yes! I’m an American!” But, I may add, the Scotsman in our group is just as passionate about his country.
So here, we are, just over a month living in the illustrious city of London.
I’m sharing a flat with two girls, living with 10 people over all. I have a 40 hour work week, a small collection of clothes to keep me warm in this increasing cold. It doesn’t feel like home yet.
I love the river Thames and the Queen’s Walk, which goes along it on the south bank. I have picked up knitting as a caveat to my job, a way to befriend some of the locals. I am reading recreationally again, after four years of university. Right now, I am reading Vanity Fair (all my lit friends would be so proud).
My appreciation and knowledge of coffee has broadened as I have been educated on our espresso machine at work. My career as a barista is burgeoning. So yeah, what I miss of American cuisine is being compensated for over good coffee.
I am working on my goals for the year. I like it here most days.