The last few weeks have been a blur between trying to get through a full day of work without hiding in the bathrooom for a cry to attempting to pick up the pieces of a life planned.  None of this has been helped by the constant rollarcoaster that has become Beni and I.  Neither ready or able to let go of the person we hoped to build a life around, we have manged to get back together, break up, and date again all in a span of 2 weeks.  Some moments have been reminders of why we were together in the first place and others were hints of why we could never work.  It's become an exhausting pro and cons list, only made worse by our imminent departures.

As part of my attempt to get off the ride, I booked a ticket back home for a month, a move that is admittedly half self preservation, half running away.  And incase none of this was enough, Beni will be returning to Albanian for an unknown amount of time, a move that is half family duty, and half unfair family selfishness.  So with the clock ticking, we have been trying to repair our cracked relationship and come to terms with what may be a very long seperation. 

And all the while, I can't help wondering if the trust has been broken beyond repair.  For me even the good moments have become clouded by doubt and every comment has been laced with a hint of uncertainty.  So the only question left is can love be enough to overcome the fear of being hurt again....or should we cut our losses and try to move on...

I have no idea what the answer is but I'm counting on the fact that a month surrounded by my friends and family will get me a bit closer to figuring it out....

The deep divide

Sometimes things end as beautifully as they began, they take an unexpected turn, and those decisions will leave your life forever changed. I didn't expect the feelings that followed a passionate kiss almost 2 years ago, just as I didn't expect the heartbreak that followed. But with each act, my life is and will be changed forever. In the beginning it was making room in my dishelved life for another and now I will have to find a way to fill the empty spaces he has left. But there aren't enough tchatkis in the world to fill the space, its as if that picture has hung on the wall forever, the outline of something removed is impossible to miss. It's become a constant reminder that things went too far and things have changed without my permission or desire.


But there were one too many fights and one too many differences to keep the pieces together. Neither of us are without blame or fault and we will both have to live with thoughts of what we could have been. Our goodbye was filled with as much love, compassion, and comfort as our hello. Forehead to forehead, entwinded on the couch left us both wondering if we could every really allow the space to come inbetween our embrace. But his fear and my mistakes have driven a deep divide between us, so deep it may never be filled in. It is not a choice I would have made but it is one I will have to live with. I could see in his eyes that he was still the same, that he had not stopped loving me. His words promised that we would be forever connected, forever friends, and forever in the heart of the other. A fact that offers no consollation to how I feel now. But he is not himself, he is broken, and despite all efforts he cannot seem to find the strength or reason to put himself back together again. I can't stop myself from hoping there is a fresh start for us but I know that even time and space may never bring him back even if he wanted to.

But at least for one last time, we meant every hug, every kiss, and could ignore the space between us. I loved him across all borders and boundries but for now it isn't enough to fix it. I will have to find a way to start over, move on, pick up the pieces and try to make London a city that is mine, not ours.

I haven't been sleeping much, I can't seem to turn off the internal calculater, constantly talleying up my student loans.  It took about 2 days after finding out I passed, for the panic to set in.  Further intensified by a few threatening emails from the all powerful loan corporations.  In my best efforts to man-up, I called Citibank to discuss options aka cry my way into a deference extension.  Apparently, Citi understanding the time are tough, sympathizing with the American student....eliminated all payment plans, consolidation, forbearance, and anything else that might ease the pain of overwhelming debt.  So, I am instantly behind... as if $180,000 in loans wasn't enough of a handicap.  I'm trying to turn this into handicapable... but its not working, how is anyone supposed to recover from this?  I mean I knew it would happen, the debt would catch up, but I thought somewhere out there, there would be something in place for people like me.  No wonder the Brits were up in arms over tuition increases....they saw it was one step closer to opening Pandora's box aka America's education system.  I don't know how much longer I can hold out hope that my 8 years of education will get me anywhere near where I need to be to pay Uncle Sam back.....

On top of having to beg another bank to take my debt and set up a payment plan....I am flathunting.  It would be exciting, except I am 2 weeks away from being flat-less.  My fingers and toes are crossed that something, anything, gives....

Masters #2

Please hold the applause, we've done this a few times before but I swear this will be the last time.  Well that's unless I have a heart attack the first time I see the student loan bills, then and only then will: PhD have a nice ring to it!  I kid, I kid, I'm never doing this again.  I must admit, I struggled with this last one, for no other reason than a severe lack of motivation and inspiration.  I used up all my scholarly interest long before the dissertation was in.  In true slacker fashion, it was printed 10 minutes before the deadline.  It took a week of all nighters to finish something I didn't love but no sense crying over smudged ink.

I don't know how my procrastination didn't bite me in the ass, I was sure it would one day...luckily, it hasn't yet.  I have officially passed my dissertation with a what I think is a merit worthy score.  So tonight I can officially enjoy a drink as Gwen, BA, MS, MA......

School days are over....FOREVER!!

Now off to celebrate my freedom!

CROATIA #17

It's impossible to not love a place with Tiffany blue water and gelati stands on every corner, despite some rough patches, I loved every second of this place! My companion, Ms Murphys Law herself, made sure to keep things interesting with a series of snafu's. Nothing like starting off the trip with forgetting your ATM card in the machine in the airport only to then leave her wallet on our bus, (over 2 hours away from where we were staying), luckily a sprint up the hill proved successful. But what can you do but drink some local vino and laugh about it?

Like, all our trips, Ashley and I went because it was cheap! £45 was enough to get us Rijeka, only a few miles inland from the Adriatic sea. Croatia's tourist season starts at the end of May, which allowed us to enjoy the weather and afford some 3 star diggs. As cities weren't really our goal this time around, we decided to stay in the small, lesser known Baska on the Island of Krk, a true Mediterrean dream right on the sea. It's become a popular tourist destination for its pebble beaches and beautiful accomodation, but lucky for us, it was empty! A long, bumpy ride through the mountains left us feeling like we would never get on the beach but the ass numbing pain disappeared as we walked down the hill lined with colorful buildings, staring at the bright blue sea. It was ideal, even more ideal if you are on a lovers getaway! But Ash and I are traveling buddies and since it was her last journey before returning Stateside, we decided to go big...lovers getaway big! For once we had no plan or internerary, well nothing beyond laying on the beach, eating mediterranean cuisine, and enjoying massages!

We briefly took joy in our 3 star accomodation, there really is something to be said for actual beds over bunk beds, before heading out to dinner. Since this wasn't our first stroll around the block, we spotted some divine looking grub on the walk into town. Note: A good tourist always makes a mental note of good smelling restaurants and gelati stand locations! Our restaurant selection was everything we hoped for and then some! As one of the only tables in the joint, we got lots of attention from our server and his waiter cronies. I usually don't obsess too much about the food but seriously I would do Croatia all over again just to eat my way through the country. I'm gonna go out on a limb and vote it better than Italy (gasp!) Ash and I are pretty cheap when it comes to eating, merely because we have to be, our budget doesn't factor in Michelin stars. But in a place like Croatia, we can eat till our pants burst with an 9 to 1 exchange! We started with a plate of fresh prosciutto and sheep cheese, topped with local olives and oil. To continue our foodie's wet dream, we ordered steak and local fish wrapped in bacon (yup wrapped in bacon) with fresh meditteranean grilled veggies. Barely able to breath, we polished off more wine before moving on to dessert, which was a tray of traditional goodies. Of course eating 3 desserts is completely unacceptable, unless its in the name of exploration, which of course it was! And if that wasn't enough, we were urged to take 3 shots of the local hooch, some of which taste a little too close to Rocki (the Albanian liquor). When I mentioned this, our waiters were amazed I knew what it was and after explaining, the response was at least I'm not dating a Bosnian. With our bellies busting at the seams, we walked back for a decent wine induced sleep. We awoke in a panic, somehow I still manage to forget to adjust the time zone when leaving England and we were 5 minutes late for Helga. Helga (or some foreign variation of that) and her posse were waiting to give two hungover Americans their massages. Which was my version of heaven (just add proscuitto), I'm not one to do the spa or massage thing but I think I could learn to be after 45 minutes of Helga's magic hands.

After that, there isn't much choice but to relax by the pool and drink a beer, especially when said beers cost 50 cents. There was no urge to sightsee, the mountain backdrop was enough of a view for me. We left only to return to our restuarant for a mid-day feast and then the beach. Our new friends, brought us cold beers out on the pebble beach. Maybe it was the food, the beer, the gelatis, or the sheer relaxation of it all, but we promptly fell asleep, a fact I would take back to avoid the lobster look we sported the rest of the weekend! Thoroughly crispy, we went for an afternoon nap with the constant Croatian breeze. Fully refreshed we decided it was time for more eating and a walk around the village. Our walk was disrupted by our waiter friends, who invited us to join them for drinks. Before we knew it, we were in a one room, local restaurant watching piles of meat being ushered to the table. Very similar to the Albanian style, everyone ate with their hands from central plates piled high, urging us to eat as well. And how can you say no to the hospitality. We were then escorted to another local restaurant for a full meal before meeting up with our new friends at the one and only bar/club. We had no intention of staying out but there was something fascinating about the smoke filled glorified hut where the music came from a man with a laptop and speakers. Like moths to the burning liquor fire on the bar, we danced and drank with our new friends until the early hours of the morning. Which we regreted in the morning as we ran for the 7am bus to Krk city.

Krk is the capital of the island and our last stop before returning to London. It's rests on the coast. as a much larger version of Baska. We walked through the maze of the streets along the water to our hotel higher in the mountains. It was advertised as a romantic hidaway and they truly weren't lying. With 3 infinity pools and a spa surround by the woods, overlooking the sea, it was a Sandels ad in the making. We wandered the city before returning to the pool for another relaxing day. Unfortunately, the downside to traveling off season is many tours, boat cruises, and attractions are closed. But I guess exploring the small islands and caves of Krk is nothing more but a reason to return. Slightly disappointed we didn't know what to do with ourselves after dinner, so unsure, we considered playing Bingo at the hotel. We were about 40 years below the average guest so Bingo was on the calendar. We would have played, except for the fact that not even the early birders wanted in. Talk about irony....the youngest guests at the hotel are the only ones who want to play! So we drank wine in the hotel bar and got a little sappy reminiscing about our various trips around the world.

We often said that we didn't want to go back to London throughout the weekend and apparently the travel gods listened, or Ashley's bad luck returned because we spent the next 36 hours trying to get back home. Nothing like a flight canceled and having to travel across the country to catch another a day later. But the travel nightmare was well worth the trip! Croatia is unexpectedly high on my list!

Prost'in in Berlin

So many times, a friend's visit comes right at the right moment, those moments when I feel completely disconnected from the states. Katie's visit came at exactly that time and because she is the person you can pick up with right away, as if no time has passed, those feelings disappeared immediately. Her visit was made better because we were able to hit up Berlin for a mid-week break.


If there was a country that rounded out the bottom of my travel list, it certaintly wouldn't be Germany. How could a country that is known for celebrating beer, disappoint? Not to mention, it is the culture I identify with the most. Like most Americans, I am a cultural identity mut....but thanks to my Oma, I know spetzel, goulash, and of course beer runs in my blood! And I would have made her proud with the amount of stroudel, sausages, and beer I managed to fit into 3 days!

After a jetlegged induced nap, we braved the bitter cold to see some historical sights, to which there is no shortage of in Germany. My first love in Berlin, are the infamous little green and red men! The walk/don't walk signs are just so damn cute, with the little hats and balled hands still create a clear marking divide between East and West. I love these little guys! Anyway, on to the actual cultural bits! We stopped first at the National Jewish Museum. The original Jewish museum was closed by the Nazi regime, in the 1980s a architectural contest to rebuild began. The new museum, a zigzagged design took over 10 years to open. The design is supposed to be representative of a contorted star of David, with sharp lines cutting through the design. The hallway inside mirror the outside design creating a maze of rooms and lines through the museum, creating 3 intersecting axis' that symbolize the 3 realities of Jewish life in Germany: 'Continuity with German History', 'Emigration from Germany' and finally 'The Holocaust'. The emigration tunnel leads to the garden of exile, an outdoor maze through concrete pillars. The Holocaust tunnel leads to the Holocaust tower, a narrow, endlessly tall, empty silo closed off by a heavy steal door. The door boomed shut with deafening silence in the cold dark room. It's the kind of space that makes you skin crawl with the feelings it provokes, we didn't manage to stay in long but I suspect that's the point. Needless to say, it's a museum that doesn't offer a hit of clarity, instead it only increases confusion and questions of 'how did this happen?'

Even though it also celebrates the Jewish culture, we only lasted about an hour. Next stop Checkpoint Charlie: the 3rd checkpoint that allowed Westerns to cross the border into East Germany. While the original guard house has been removed, a replica stands in its place as a tourist photo op. Across is a section of the wall paying homage to the victims of the Wall, along with their stories of attempted escape. Again, how did this happen? It's amazing the lengths people went to, both the escapees and those that tried to assist, most of which ended in a blood bath. Which all played out for the world to see. It would just be like a wall running through South and North Jersey, of course that would never happen....



And then from one side to another, we went to the Topography of Terror museum built upon the site of the former Gestapo and SS headquaters. The boundary between American and Soviet occupation ran along the site, this section of the wall has never been demolished. I guess it's fitting that the site of torture and imprisionment is now a memorial and museum, well as fitting as possible. The museum focuses on the Third Reich officers and their crimes, through mostly harrowing photos. I think it's a requirement to see photos depicting the crimes in World History, but nothing like this was in my books. But maybe they should be. I don't know what's more disturbing seeing the SS enjoying a nice day at the beach dated during the height of the torture, or the men, women, and children hanging from trees almost as if in a warning to others. Each photo was more disturbing than the last, the evidence of the torture seemed never-ending. And then they put faces and places to something that most of us weren't around for, most of the worst of these so called leaders, escaped public capture and judgement. Just as I'm getting depressed writing this, we decided it was far too much for one day. From the words and stories of the Holocaust victims, to the words and stories of third reich, there is only so much you can take on a holiday.....and for that we decided it was best to skip the concentration camp tour the next day.

In need of a lighter note, it was time to enjoy Berlin for their other contributions to the world....beer. We found a slightly odd looking bar and ordered a feast of comfort food and beer. God, I could eat goulash and spetzel everyday, all day!!!! With our handy guide book, we attempted to find a good night out. I don't know if it was the mid-week or the cold, but it was proving impossible to go out. We followed the music only to be led to a bar of Justin Beiber groupies and passed another place that looked like a prime sport for druggies to OD. FInally after much wondering we found a street of bars/pubs, it was quieter but it would due. On our way to the next cheap guidebook recommendation, we were stopped by two Germans, who asked us where the party was. Ha! Before long, we were in the pub drinking pints, learning some key phrases. I must admit, Katie was much more the natural than I was. Within 20 minutes, they were keen to know our American thoughts on Germany and whether we hated them? There is obviously a clear complex that has been passed down from generation to generation. After a couple pints, we followed our new friends to an electronic club, the same one that druggies go to die, the one that Katie said she would never go to....there we were. But Berlin is known for underground bars and being the hub of all things electronic and trendy. Even without drugs, it was still a good time, maybe it was the beer or maybe it was watching all the people on a variety of drugs dance around unaware of even themselves. Quite an experience with our new friends!

When you only have three days, every hour counts, and it is completely exhausting. So exhausting we forfeited the walking tour to wonder on our own. We saw the Brandenburg Gate (a dividing line along the wall and where trainwreck David Hasselhof performed at the falling of the wall) Reichstag, Bebelplatz (site of the Nazi book burning), Berliner Dom, Museum Island, Potsdamer Platz, Alexanderpaltz and Hitlers Bunker, Ironically now a condo parking lot. We also walked through the Memorial to the Murdered Jews in Europe, a memorial made up on over 2,000 concrete slabs of varying height on a slopping site. Again a very eerie site! I have to give Germany credit there is a lot of honest representation of their past, even if it did take them a little too long to do it, I think it is still better late than never!

Our final stop before heading back to the hostel was the East Side Gallery. It's 1.3km section of the wall filled with over 100 pieces paintings & murals from artists across the world. The pieces representing freedom. I couldn't help but take a photo of almost every one!!! Each painting was completely different from the last. By far my favorite area of Berlin!

The thing I love about hostels is the potential to meet some amazing people. Our hostel in Berlin provided some wonderful Brazilian and Peruvian buddies to have a good German meal with. Us 5 tourists headed to a beerhaus for some sausages and sauerkraut....amazing food and company! One of our new friends joined Katie and I for another attempted night out. Again, finding a place became tricky so we ended up in a karaoke bar, yup I said it a German karaoke bar, sadly not one Hoff song was sung. But we did give it a go after some harsh convincing from the german and irish guys. I guess our voices brought us all together (Not!) because we spent the rest of night (till 5 am) celebrating St. Paddys with the Irish in Germany.

I'm not dead...I'm just lazy

it's been 3 months since my last confession... I wish I could say its because I am simply way too busy to take 20 minutes a day to write but I could always write instead of watching a 7th episode of Criminal Minds. The truth is sometimes its just too daunting to write a story with no ending, and other days I am sick of the characters, and even more of those days I cannot handle the analysis that comes in the wake of writing. But in an effort to get back to reality....


Here's what you missed since the last episode: I aged another year and had some unexplained issues with 27. I drank beer with some legitimate Germans and stood in front of the concrete that divided a nation and the increasingly involved world powers. I've experienced the fun of seeing travel through someone else's eyes. I've laid on the rocky beaches of Croatia. I've slammed the school book shut, hopefully for the last time ever! And once again I am in the midst of making life decisions, but this time not alone.

If there has been one reoccuring theme in all this, it's I want to go back. I have yet to find a country I don't like, even Egypt, with its seedy moments, still offered an amazing experience. I've wanted to re-do it all, go back and see it from another angle or in most cases another city. With the exception of Egypt, I would go back to every place I've been. Croatia, Wales, and Germany are no different...I want to do it all again.

Wales:

I knew it was going to be a trip unlike the rest, mainly because I would have a boyfriend in tow. Without too much dramatics, I was prepared for a make it or break it journey. We were rocky for weeks before leaving....apparently sometimes a firey Albanian and a fiesty American are the oil and water of relationships so alot more rided on this trip than orginally planned. I've traveled with boyfriends twice before, neither my trip to Paris with an arrogant sweater vest doning boy or A booze filled trip to the Bahamas with my partner in drinking turned out well. In fact things got pretty ugly immediately following the voyage. So I'm skeptical about these Sandles-esk getaways.

Beni has never understood my constant obsession with last minute traveling. I can tell he gets tired of the frequent...'I booked a ticket to (insert random country here) and leave next week'. But there are alot of things we still have yet to understand about each other so I boarded the bus excited and slightly worried that I might smother his cute face after a long weekend traveling! We made our way to the hotel (I splurged this time, hostels are really hot beds for romantic getaways) dropped off our bags and started the sightseeing. Cardiff is not unlike England because well let's be honest it is England.  Except Wales is friendlier and filled with more castles, 631 castles to be exact.

We headed off to Cardiff Bay which is similar to the banks of the Thames, its filled with restaurants, bars, and beautiful views of the city. We took advantage of the rare sunshine and boarded a boat cruise around the bay. The captain recommended we get off on the other side for the views, on a clear day you can see the coast of English seaside. Unfortunately it was not a clear day but the views we still amazing. Beni and I sat on the docks, lined with amateur fishermen and their sons waiting for the ultimate catch, with some classic Flake cones before heading back to the other side for cocktails. Got to love, the UK's 2 for 1 cocktaits. Over a boozy lunch, Beni and I talked about some of our common misunderstandings, nothing like a mojita driven therapy session to let the gaurds down. With the typical British rain dampening our parade, we decided it was a great time to head back to the hotel. To keep it classy, we stopped at the off-lincense for supplies: a case of beer, crisps, and a bottle of wine. Afterall what do two people who never get alone time do when given the hotel keys (strictly PG excerpts I promise): Well they drink Corona's in the bath, jump around on the bed, and dance around in their underwear to Jennifer Lopez. OK I'm actually slightly embarrassed about the latter, but I have to pick my battles and Beni loves him some JLo. After tearing ourselves away from the splendure of our Cousin/Brother/Flatmate free zone, we headed out for drinks. We decided it was going to be a low-key night, because the next day was the day I forced Beni to sign up for an all day tour. Low key went right out the window after a bunch of drinks and club recommendations from the Italian waiter that Beni made best buddies with at dinner. If its not an Albanian, it's an Italian with Albanian cousins.....we can't go anywhere! As soon as we got to the club, Beni and I became the people we were before living together....the shot taking, can't get off the dancefloor, nothing but fun couple. It was one of the best nights I have ever had on holiday, made even funnier by random drunk girls repeatedly asking Beni if he was the new Manchester United striker.

Slightly hungover and crabby, I forced Beni out of bed for the big tour. Beni didn't understand why we had to pay someone £40 each to drive us around, he was convinced that we could find someone on the street to take us for £20. The tour had to live up to my hype or else I would never live it down. And while I am impressed by old broken buildings that are glorified as ancient ruins, I was worried Beni would only see structures that would still be standing if an Albanian crew had built them. (I still have to convince him that a popular London restaurant has an open ceiling and unfinished brick work because its trendy not because they ran out of money before finishing the job.) Beni could not have been less impressed with the energetic Welsh tour guide, it was going to be a potentially long day! We started the tour by driving through the preserved Roman town of Caerleon meaning 'Fort of the Legion', first stopping at the Roman amphitheatre. It was as perfectly entact as possible, the green grass covered the missing wooden bleachers, yet it was still a steep drop into the center. All it took was the mention of gladiators fighting to their death for Beni to perk up, he kept asking me if this is just like the movie, to which I of course said yes( I can't burst his man vs. man and sometimes lion to the death bubble.) With the leader sending us on our way to explore, my Albanian gladiater led the way by jumping down from the top into the center of the ring, most of the others including me used the stairs. I stood there shocked as Beni gave his best Gladiator impression, climbing the walls, leaping across from one section to another, and running around like a child. He was further hooked in the Roman Bath house and that infatuation carried over into the museum and the bookshop. He made sure to by a book, most of which he can't read, to show the familia where gladiators died. We continued on across the Usk and Wye rivers, into the stunning Wye Valley patches into sections of bright yellows and greens to our next stop Tintern Abbey. A overhwelmingly massive monastic ruin of the Cistercian monks. While it's considered ruins, much of the main building is still entact. There is something quite peaceful and beautiful about it, far beyond the beauty of the building. The green grass flowed through the openness of the building, with columns and stair cases still standing, it was a perfect spot for exploring. Beni and I layed down in the midst of the monastary with a perfect view of the sky and shade from the hot sun. We lasted a while before Beni started climbing on things again..... With its location far from the medival hustle and bustle, it remain relatively untouched, until Henry VIII abruptly ended their run in the 1500s. The monastary was just another captured pawn in his bloody game of control against the church. The backdrop of the Abbey addes to its splendure, set against the Wye Rivers and forrests, it is an amazing sight. Somewhere along the way, Beni became the social one, possibly because the tour was mostly middle aged women who found him adorable. We ate lunch with some fellow travelors at Beni's request (it's amazing what a holiday can do!!!) and drank some local brew before exploring the forest. Hot and sunburnt, we boarded the bus for our last stop: Raglan Castle deep in the Wye Valley. Ahhh castles, what can I say my love affair with all things drawbridge and princess in the tower related, will never end! Not waiting for the go-ahead, Beni was the first to cross the drawbrigde, by the time the rest of us entered the castle, fit with a moat, Beni was on his way up the first tower. With only a few other tourists, Beni and I climbed to the top of each tower and into each dungeon-like room without so much as a view of another tourist. It was perfect, how often does a gal get an empty castle...never! Again the backdrop was as magical as climbing around the castle. With the day of touring over, Beni was hooked with travel, over a romantic dinner on the water, he told me he finally understood that I did more than drink my way through Europe.

Our final day in Wales was spent exploring Cardiff, with a trip to Cardiff Castle (much more touristy than Raglan) and the National Museum. After Raglan, Cardiff Castle didn't have nearly as much character as I hoped. Don't get me wrong, I'd make good use of that tower if it was mine, but there was something much more corporate about it. It was used and expanded multiple times throughout history, even so recently as WWII when its walls were modified for the use of bomb shelters. The state rooms were filled will beautiful artifacts from different time periods but they didn't keep me from enjoying the other better. Maybe it's the fact that I didn't have to pay £15 to get in the other...I understand they need to make money and what not but come on....

We headed to the museum next, which turned out to be Beni's favorite part. They had a billion stuffed animals of the extinct nature, Beni spent 20 minutes trying to convince me that Albania has Wooly Mamouths and multiple other animals that are big, scary, and originate no where near the country! With a mostly rainy British summer, we spent the rest of the day outside in the parks sipping cider. The next day when we boarded the bus to head back to the Big Smoke, we were both disappointed that we had to return. It was the perfect break from reality and an amazing experience for both of us. Beni is anxiously awaiting the next trip.....

Katie's here!!!!!!!!!!!!

Its an instant relief when a friend walks out of the arrivals hall. I knew it would be no different with Katie. Since Katie lives in DC, hours away from the rest of our group, we are used to going months without seeing each other. By the time we boarded the tube, it was pretty clear that we would jump right back into where we left off. There was a year of stories and details to catch up on but we had a whole week to be brought up to date. With limited time, we dropped off her bags and headed out for a day in my life….a very hectic day.


To take advantage of the nice weather, we started the day at Portobello market for some low-key antique browsing and hummingbird cupcakes. With jet-lag setting, we slowed down for food and coffees before meeting up with some of my girls from Uni. A martini or two is a perfect cure for jetlag. Of course all my visitors need to see the sights of London,but equally important is meeting all the people I spend my time with. So Day 1 was all about the people. First the girls, then as always….the Albanians!
There was no doubt the Albanians would love Katie, they have a weakness for women, especially beautiful blond ones. I think I have single-handedly upon their games. Almost all my American visitors have fallen willing victims of their huskey accents and dark features….It’s only a matter of time before one of Beni friends will understand the joy and agony of dating a lady of liberty. I can’t say I wouldn’t be anything less than ecstatic!!!

After a couple martinis and celebratory champagne, it was time for a break before a night out. While Katie rested I joined my flat mates and Albanians for some unnecessary pre-gaming. A whole lot of booze later, my flat mates were drunk and ready to join in. It didn’t take long before my male flat mates threw their hat into the ring for Katie but their drunken slurrs and bad lines, were no match for the understated Albanians. My flat took us to an overcrowded excuse for a trendy bar…it took two rounds before we couldn’t take the mind numbing display of bad techno. By following another suggestion of my flat mate, Katie saw first hand the overpriced London nightclub. As if promising a kiddie pool in the club was an excuse to charge £15.…but we made the most of it with drunken dancing.

Over the next couple hours, I watched the competition, the Albanians hung back and waited for their moment, while my flat mate attempted to bulldoze right in. It was a new level of cockblocking….

By 3 our wallets were empty and we were the perfect level of kebab drunk. Good way to start off a London visit if you ask me. Of course the classier folk would disagree.

Day 2 started with a hangover and some much needed brunch. I’m mad it took me this long to realise the greatness that is a Bloody Mary. They are my new favorite Sunday drink. The rest of the day was spent with Beni and his darling walking through the city. Beni entertained the group while Katie got a glimpse of some of the sights. I couldn’t have been happier with how Beni and Katie got along…I know he likes someone when he wants to take a million photos with them. We ended the night early, after a couple of pints by the water.

Lots more to come..............

A much needed visitor!

The last couple of months people on my London contact list seem to be shifting categories...friends becoming acquaintances, acquaintances becoming just another notch on my Facebook bedpost, and some of those I rely on heavily for friendship are getting ready to return to their respective homelands. But as one of the few, staying in our adopted home, I can’t help feeling slightly left behind and lost.


Some of my friendship took a lifetime to build, I know those cannot be replaced or replicated in a year. I have created some amazing relationships abroad but when all is said and done, and my closest London buddies board their planes, will I become that girl that only has her boyfriend? I mean he’s a great one to be stuck with but a girl’s gotta have people to run to when he’s being a twat! Maybe it’s just the idea of more changes that have me shaken but a visit from a friend could not be more needed at the moment. Thank god I don’t have to wait much longer for Katie’s visit, I can really use some good old fashioned quality time with a close friend.

One for the Girls

When Laurel Thatcher Ulrich wrote 'Well Behaved Women Seldom Make History', in her study on Puritan funeral services, she had no idea it would take on a life of its' own.  Emblazoned upon magnets, t-shirts, and a whole host of feminist tchatchkes, it has become one of my personal favorites.  After it's the naughty rebels that make headlines and shake things up.  I don't think its worthy of the likes of trainwrecks like Lindsey and Britney...but it is worthy of the well intentioned badass ladies.  And since its Women's Day....and Pancake Day, Faschnaut Day, and Mardi Gras.... this one is for all my girls, even those who have earned their beads the honest way...

I am very lucky to be surrounded by amazing women both home and abroad.  Ones that have picked me up after a drunk fall, wiped my beer tears, opened their doors, and lost hours of their lives listening to my latest drama at a diner.  My ladies are the girls that take down Christmas balls with shots from a BB gun.  The girls that boot (in the closest cup) and ralley.  The girls that rock langerie and aren't afraid to admit they like a little youporn.  The ones that can pull off pearls and the ones that can bark just as loud as they bite.  The ladies that out drank the boys, danced on bars, and walked barefoot home through the city.  There has been bottle service in a strip club, drunk disney sing alongs, road trips, tailgating and plenty of day drinking.

But they are more than great drinking buddies and excellent wingwomen, they are the most amazing gals I know.  They ride, run, and work in hopes of making a difference for charities.  They work tirelessly to educate little bastards.  They are resilient and able to rebuild when life changes.  They create beautiful things from nothing.  They somehow find a way to continue to make leaps of faith.  They follow dreams across the country and put their dreams on hold when they are needed at home.  They turn personal tragedies into a lifetime of helping others.  They are funny, smart,  independent, compassionate and of course ridiculously good looking!  They haven't always been angels but if we are going to make history, we need to be a little naughty!

To all my favorite girls:  GAME ON!

Ding Dong...

The Big Bad Bitch is Gone!!!!!!!!!!!!!

It only took a month or two of awkward silences and passive aggressive manuevers to get our way....well those in addition to a legal document giving a 30 day eviction notice.  The terrible dirtbag, finally gave in, and moved on.  With the help of 5 trips in a moving truck, I came home to a new flat.  A quieter, cleaner, hostility free home! 

Of course the empty room, only meant we were in store for a flood of potentials.  A sea full of characters filled the flat:  The Turkish guy who tested the faucets, flushed the toilet, and stayed way past his welcome, The Morrocan man with two translators in toe, made sure his love of clubbing and women was passed on in his broken english, while measuring space for an extra bed in his room.  The Chinese interpreter, who said next to nothing.  The polite Spanish boy who seemed shy but sweet.  The French girl who sat and chatting, promising wine and some homecooked meals.  Those in addition to about 10 others made our place feel like a whore-house....a less entertaining whore-house, of course! 

Sal and I debated,  well Sal debated, my pick was clear:  The French girl.  Maybe its because I have a soft spot for anyone who recently moved to London, someone who doesn't have a base of friends, or maybe its because I will be slowly losing my London buddies to their home countries...but  I liked her, she seemed like someone I could be friends with.

And after a week, it is pretty clear, our flat is now feeling like a home.  We spent Friday, eating, drinking, and watching movies together.  It seemed only fitting to invite them both out on Saturday and to my surprise they came.  Unsurprisingly, we had a great time!  I'm liking the new flat, we all chat, eat, and things are becoming more shared.  Thank god, the bad witch is out,....it made room for a good one.....

One Year

For almost as long as I have been in London, I have been someone’s girlfriend. I spent a mere month in the running for the International hook-up cup, before bowing out. I can barely remember what it’s like to rush into class, detailing my latest exploits with, Ireland, England, Jamaica, (insert country here). It took one weekend or in my case a hat trick of the UN variety, before I was the clear leader. But then I had to go and fall in love…

It’s not like I’ve never been here before, I have, 3 times in fact. I have run the gamete between love, lust, and even luke warm a few scars over. I’ve dated puppies, party animals, and most frequently the ones that don’t fit into any category other than What was I thinking? There have been serenading All-americans with freckles, Division 1 athletes, uniform toting jugheads, over confident frat boys, Philadelphia’s finest, men of match and of course more than a few questionable beer goggle finds. I’ve been woo’ed and wounded with words, almost as much as I have woo’ed and wounded others. Before him, there has been puppy love, fun love, and even a fake love or two.
But puppies never stay puppies long enough, their faces change, their hot breath turns stale, and they never have as much energy as in those first months. He was classically trained by rom-coms with flowers, candies, trips, and even poems were an ideal jumping off point to my love life. But that was until my puppy grew a beer gut and bit the hand that pet him.

Then there was the fun love, the kind that starts and ends with a beer pong. Our dates consisted of pimps and hoes parties, TGI Fridays, and binge drinking. But he was sweet, adoring and great with a guitar. It was perfect until I became the girl that not even a sweet boy could love.

Those shaped me just as much as the fake loves. The men that just weren’t that into me. The ones, I hoped would change. And even the one that loved his dick enough to immortalize it in latex. But without them, I wouldn’t be ready for the serious love.

Things have been challenging since the moment we met, since the moment he stared right through me and I watched him dance through the crowd, wondering how I could manage a snog away from the eyes of my date. But like most things, he took the plan right from under me, pulling me from my path to the bathroom and kissing me passionately enough for both of us. And since that kiss, my planning has been pointless. My plan was to sample the international buffet of men. To spend a year erasing each disappointment, fully realizing my inner Samantha or Carrie. My time of liberation and independence was interrupted with passion, comfort, and adoration. And no girl, even armed with an itinerary, can ignore that. We all want to be someone’s princess….

And I am his, one title I am comfortable with. Even at the eye of my storm, he can still find it in him to look at me with amazement (its probably because of the volume of my rants) and love. I wake up to words of adoration and tender kisses, even hours after those battles. He makes what is his, mine. He thinks it is his job to take care of me, financially and emotionally, yet still finds plenty of time to call me lazy when I litter his room with clothes or sleep past 10. Some days our challenges and differences seem impossible. And in those moments Glasses have been smashed, pictures cracked, and jealous words have been spoken at a deafening volume. We have never been perfect, our words don’t always translate and our actions can be misunderstood. But then tensions break and before I know it, I am back to the place we both feel safe, the nook.

And just like I thought following our first date, there is still something about him. Maybe it’s how he dances around in his underwear singing songs in Albanian, Turkish, or Greek. Or brings me coffee in bed and calls me to say good morning every time we wake up in separate beds. But mostly it’s the way he looks at me…

I don’t know where we will end up, maybe this will be just another great love in my story, maybe we will cross countries in defiance of visa battles, or maybe we will be exactly what each other needs to save us from ourselves.

PRAHA: Part 2

With beers to a variety of beers to pregame with we headed back to our hotel to clean up for a night out. Distracted by exhaustion and reports of turmoil in Egypt, we moved slowly through our beers and primping. Knowing full well, that this was not the time to watch news in bed (not that anytime really is), we rallied with a half ass power hour. Finally we were ready to brave the cold again…..


Armed with recommendations from fellow travelers, we headed for the Little Goat Bar but as fast as we were in, we were out to find the non-dinner crowd. On our way to the next stop we ran bumped into the bar crawl crowd. 50 tourists, in matching tshirts, overpaying for the comfort of other internationals and an American drink leader….that and a few cheap shots of vodka. But blind promises of the best night ever, were not enough of a reason for us to part with £35.…nonetheless, the leader took a liking to us and told us to follow along, sans matching t-shirt of course. We followed along, unimpressed by the group and the cheap shots of vodka, so we decided to make our on way when the leader urged us to follow to the next stop. After the bar was pretty cool, it looked as if it had been carved out of a tunnel system and the beers were cheap. As we left, we avoided the crisscrossing crawl crowd and headed to the Harley bar. It was, as recommended, crowded and wild. The bartenders donned in drag, were the first to serve us the burning that is absinthe. The taste of fiery black licorice lasted longer than it probably should have. Making friends with fellow Americans and the crowd around us, we spent the rest of the night there… With the help of another shot and one too many cheap beers we were stumbling lost on the streets toward the hotel by 2.…so much for a 5am night….

It may have been the dehydration that woke us but for the first time in our travels we were up early enough to take advantage of the free breakfast (even if it was just rolls and yoghurt). Even with an after roll nap, we were still out in plenty of time to seize the day. But first, we had a score to settle with the sausage cart…what kind of food cart closes before the drunks have a chance to stumble out and make questionable eating choices? Much to our disappointment we never got to take advantage of the glorious looking pretzels and sausages after our crawling. So before any sites were seen, we were determined to soak up the green, unfortunately it looked much more appetizing than it was. The chewy, hardness of it made me almost loose my cookies. With a quid wasted, we opted for the save bet of pizza. Greased up, we were off to check out Josefov, the old Jewish ghetto. Despite the Nazi occupation, a few synagogues, a cemetery, and town hall still remain, preserved on Hilter’s orders. In a twisted fashion, only Hitler could muster, Josefov was his planned museum of an extinct race. Much to my disappointment, virtually everything is closed on Saturdays during off-peak months. We peaked through gates to view the cemetery where one grave topples on top of another, the crowdedness of it all is disturbing. From there we tried out the trolley system to take us to Mala Strana to pick up the funicular railway for Petrin. The trolley dropped us at the Memorial to the victims of communism. I’m rarely one for modern art but there is something striking and eerie about it. A series of statues, standing on steps, each more broken and cracked than the previous. At the end, there is virtually nothing left of the man.

The railway climbs up the hill bringing small groups up to a large park area atop the slope. Home of the Rozhledna aka a mini Eiffel Tower is what draws the tourists. For only £2, you can climb the tower, 1/5 the size of the original, as see stunning views of the city. Descending back down the hill, we mapped our way to Wenceslas Square, Prague’s ‘New Town’ for dinner and trinket shopping. We found a traditional Czech restaurant and gorged on salads and goulash, comfort food after comfort food, we were stuffed to food coma status. As much as I wanted to crawl into a warm bed, we forced ourselves to enjoy some pints at a traditional pub,U medvidku, a beer hall dating back to the 13th century. It reminded me of a cafeteria, long wooden tables filled a big hall, nothing fancy, just budvar and a cloud of smoke. A beer called Olgott and an order of warm apple strudel was just about my idea of heaven….when I die, I want to wake up surrounded by strudel and a case of Oldgott! But just like the UK, pubs close way too early for my liking… tired but not defeated we followed the sounds of music and pint glasses clinking. We stumbled right into expat country…not ours but the Aussies….if there is one thing we have in common, its that Americans and Aussies are everywhere! We chatted a little with some Brits, had shots poured down our throat by some over-excited Aussies, signed our name to the collage on the wall, and sang to along to some classic live music, and we even said ‘no’ when pressured to stay and enjoy the last ever night of that bar. Afterall, we can’t have a repeat of Spain!

PRAHA: Part 1

I don't often win the currency exchange game but everyone is a winner in the Czech Republic. £1= 26 Kc, even if it's slightly deceiving, it's still a pleasant surprise when £60 turns into 1,600 Kc. I don't often get the chance to carry around a 1000 note, but I think I could adapt to this much cash. Cash stacked, Ashley and I boarded the plane for country 14. I've always wanted to go to Prague, despite my limited knowledge about the country or culture, I've heard only amazing things about the city and its nightlife.


I grown spoiled by quick, cheap flights, allowing way too many travel options! I almost from my ass-numbing 7 hour flight back home over Christmas. But an 1hr 20 min and £50 later, we were in the Czech Republic, a sunny new country! With each country, we grow increasingly comfortable with public transport, why waste money on cabs, when a bus and train can get you there for a 1/8th of the price! Because Prague is a cheaper city, that and January is considered off-off-off peak, we found a hotel for the same price of our usual hostel accommodations. £20 for real beds, with sheets included, and an ensuite bathroom….my travel dream!

From our hotel, we started off to Stare Mesto (Old Town) which was considered the medieval center of the city. It creates a maze of streets and alleys, filled with shops, restaurants. We navigated into the center of the square, church steeples seem to be entangled among brightly colored buildings with intriquly painted facades. The paintings as much a work of art as the churches themselves, each with a different story. We wandered into the gothic Tyn Church, its spires peek behind shops making the entrance seemingly hidden. With a quick look around, we exited to the sounds of trumpets. Wanting to see what the fuss was about, we walked towards the crowd and stumbled upon one of the most famous sites in Prague, the Astronomical Clock. Hundreds of people crowd around each hour to watch little figurines of the Apostles shuffle past the windows. Below are the four threats to the city (in medieval times) Death carrying an hourglass and tolling a bell, the Jew with moneybags, Vanity admiring its reflection, and also racist the Turk fit with a turban shaking his head. A costumed trumpeter bellows during the show from atop the tower. The clock face and figures are relatively low on the tower, making it easy for tourists to watch the show each hour. It is no wonder why people crowd around it, it is beautiful and old fashioned. We stopped next to the clock for some grub. We sat at an outside café under heat lamps for traditional Czech lunch and mulled wine, a perfect way to warm up before exploring the city.

Unlike many other European cities, there is no visible damage from Hitler's wrath. Virtually untouched, at least physically, the city has maintained its medieval layout, with an abundance of stunning Baroque architecture. We made our way through the old town to Charles Bridge, one of the most famous monuments in Prague. Originally only adorned with a crucifix, the Catholic Church commissioned another 21 sculptures to be erected across the bridge during the 17th century. It’s not the sculptures individually that are fascinating, its that each is different in material and design. Buskers, beggers, and people hawking chaciques line the bridge in between the marble, gold, bronze and stone figurines. Most have faded with the centuries, except for spots polished by the touching of travelers. We couldn’t understand the importance or superstition of tourists rubbing a certain statue. Once across the bridge, we wandered up the hilltop to Prague Castle. The walls surround the castle, a cathedral, a basilica, and a ton of other government buildings. We joined the crowd ignoring the ticket booth and head straight for the Cathedral of sv Vit. I’ve come to the point in my travels that I am rarely impressed by a church, after awhile the stained glass begins to blur and fade from one cathedral to another basilica. But for the first time in the last 4 countries, I was impressed. It wasn’t the height of the nave or the gold statues adorning the walls, it was the stained glass. It was bright and vibrant, seemingly more modern than others I’ve seen before. Personally in awe, we set our to find out what else the castle had in store. It felt like we walked around the whole perimeter without stumbling upon a castle, at least not a castle we have come to know. Maybe we missed it but the rest seemed a little too modern to impress us, well except the view from the top, that wasn’t too bad at all!

Along the way back we passed various Absinthe cafes and stores. I’ve only tried Absinthe once, the smuggled souvenir of a friend, entertained us for hours. A lot is said about Absinthe, mostly about its hallucinating power, all I can say about it is, that night the bathroom seemed far enough to make me take a break half way down the hall. So it was decided we were going green….

Old Balls

I've heard stories about my flatmate's tendacy to go after older men, but now I've seen it in all its bald, white bearded glory.  Her age is unknown but I'm pretty sure she is in her late 30s.  Her and I have been at each other's throat the last couple months, mostly because she is a rude, inconsiderate, bitch of a woman.  Yesterday, I had the pleasure of running into a 70 something man coming out of her room.  I would guess it was her father or uncle but then he fixed his pants the way only a man who just got blown does.  I don't know what is more surprising, the idea of his old balls or that a man (anyman) would in their right mind enter her room.  It overflows into the hall way, filled with dirty dishes, and piles of clothes fill her bed.  Where would she even have space for seducing grandpa?

I know 'age is just a number' but when you start going uphill, its also early bird specials, walkers, and senior citizen prices, actually that last one might be nice!

365 Days and Counting

There were days and even weeks when I never thought I would get here, it always seemed a little too distant to reach. But time has passed so quickly that I can barely remember walking into the International Arrivals hall dragging my life behind me. I only faintly recall the jealousy I felt looking at any re-united pair. I had never wanted my name on a sign so badly then I did in those moments. I struggled not to cry as the cab drove to the flat I had never seen, filled with people I never met. I unpacked only my photos before sleeping for what seemed like days. In those first days, it seemed like I spoke only to order an Americano coffee once a day, unsure of my own voice.


Almost a year to the day later, I de-boarded the same flight that took me from home, the weight of my luggage still barely manageable but the burden of my decision much lighter. I knew there would be no name on a sign or a friendly face to greet me but I didn’t need one. Because I am no longer the girl who sobbed and snotted through customs and I will never again spend an 7 hour plane ride in a panic stricken daze. I boarded the Express train before falling asleep to the comfort of knowing I was home.

It will never be home in the conventional sense, but everything has more than one definition. It isn’t where my family is or where I grew up but no one ever said you can only have one home. Of course Allentown, Philadelphia, and the USA will always be home but there is room for London too. Maybe I’m a home hussy but that’s ok because its just another long term relationship. Somedays you wake up disgusted by its cold, dark attitude, wondering how you have stayed so long with something that doesn’t love you back. Other days, the good days, you fall in love all over again with everything it has to offer you. In the best of homes, you are forced to try new things, open your mind, and just maybe become a better person.

So the answer is ‘I don’t know‘, well that’s the answer to all you smart cookies who asked the right question. And since I surround myself with Einstein’s, almost all of you did within minutes of seeing me. ‘When are you coming home?’ It was supposed to be a year, 18months max, a nice break before getting down to becoming a bona fide adult. But when I say I don’t know, I mean not for another year or two. Sorry Mom!

It only took 5 days in London to know I wanted to be here. Granted I was duped: it was sunny, warm, and the people were nothing but friendly. London conned me: it is never sunny or warm and the Brits aren't exactly known for embracing strangers on the street! It was all based on some modern day Scarlett O'Hara at the Twelve Oaks Bar-B-Que fantasy, sans 19 inch waist of course. I envisioned sitting outside at a quaint cafe, sipping cappuccino, surrounded by gorgeous metrosexual men, all of whom, in there husky accents, argue over who will be lucky enough to bring me a scone. After stuffing my face (daintily), my companions and I rush into a Black cab to get to the theater just in time for the curtains to go up on the latest West End show. Ok, I realise the reality is slightly different, the rain usually keeps me inside of the cafe and I don't eat that many scones to be honest but as different as it is, It is a dream nonetheless.

I am still trying to figure out why I left, some days I know I ran away from life and responsibility and other days I am content in believing I ran towards adventure and experience. It’s not as if my life was terrible, it wasn't, it just wasn't amazing and I was willing to pay for amazing. This extended vacation comes with the price tag of risking my already bleak financial future. A fact that keeps me up some nights when I think of the little IRS man tallying up my debt. But let's be honest, you all know me, I would still be drowning in debt with or without this adventure. Maybe I won't have a house anytime soon but I will have a ton of stories and photos to fill my future cardboard box.

So did I get what I was after?

Well I have journeyed to 6 countries and stood in awe of 2 ancient wonders of the world. I have mastered the art of squeezing myself onto a crowded tube carriage somewhere inbetween a smelly armpit and oversized luggage. I have spent countless afternoons laying in the Royal parks far from any evidence of 8 million people. I have accepted that the only drink sure to come with ice is a cider. I have replaced line, elevator, and take out with queue, lift, and take away. Things are now brilliant, bloody, or bullocks. I may finally be immune to a British accent. I appreciate a curry and love a kebab after a good night out. I have replaced my fears of pre-packaged sandwiches, escalators and eating alone with more sensible things like pigeons, wearing heels, and tube strikes.

I have crawled inside one of the Great Pyramids, pee’d next to the watchful eyes of camel, danced to Nubian chants around a bonfire, and drank beers in the Nile. I have donned a parka to drink inside a bar made entirely out of ice. Swam in the Blue Lagoon before almost dying by led foot driving around cliffs. I drank Sangria under a Spanish sunset. I kissed the Blarney stone, ignoring the myth that locals enjoy a good wee on it. I’ve stolen back some American flare from the French. I’ve driven through snowcapped mountains, watched the sunset over mirroring lochs, and learned the value of ’extra insurance. Sadly, I still do not know what is under the kilt…I vow to find that out during year 2!

I can’t hide the fact that I have dated, snogged, and of course shagged. My single girl run was short-lived, unless you can’t all those years state-side. A cute American accent wasted, if you ask me! I vowed to stay far away from anything resembling commitment which I did successfully for a whole month. But then girl meets boy in a shady nightclub, boy speaks very little English, girl doesn’t notice because he’s hot. Girl wants to keep things casual, boy doesn’t buy in to her bullshit. And then the twist that only my mother saw as inevitable, I fell in love. Yes, I know I wasn’t supposed to let this one happen, I was supposed to enjoy all the variety London had to offer and then report back the PG-13 details. And I certainly didn’t pick the easiest nationality, thank god for wikipedia or I would still be unsure of where he came from. But at least I didn’t throw all my standards out the window at the sight of James Franco’s doppelganger! (for anyone that remembers my deal breakers: He orders Jack and Coke, no diet, that according to him is a woman’s drink)

In 2009, I wrote: 'I want to learn to shoot a gun, write a book, and live in another country by the time I’m 30' : I haven't learned to shoot a gun but I figure a visit to Albania will tick that box. I have started a book....it might be only 20 pages but its a start, right? And I have successfully managed the last.

Then in 2010, I wrote: 'I am going to visit 30 countries by the time I'm 30' I'm well on my way...

Canada, Mexico, France, Netherlands,Italy, Bahamas, England, Ireland, Scotland, Malta

Spain, Egypt, Sweden, and Czech Republic (as of 28 Jan)

So I’ve decided I will stay until I’ve seen this through, until the good stops outweighing the bad, and then who knows….maybe it’ll be time to make room for a new home or revisit the original. It has been journey with more ups and downs that I envisioned but I wouldn’t change any of it. Even when I reach a breaking point, London shows some glimmer of sunshine even if for only a moment. And for once I believe I am exactly where I should be….