Because I haven’t been writing much lately, or at all to be honest, I thought it would be appropriate to share with you what has taken over my brain and prevented me from doing anything else except binge-watching ‘Baby Daddy’ and making gigantic ‘To-do’ lists.
A week from today, I will be moving to London. And no it’s not London, Ontario (you won’t believe how many people have asked) but the other London, the one with the queen, and the tea, and the whole ‘driving on the left side’ thing.
You can see that my vision of London and the UK in general mostly revolves around stereotypes and scones, because I have actually never been there before. I have a lot of British friends from high school and university so I’ve gathered most of my information from them. For the rest, I’m going to have to figure it out all on my lonesome.
When I moved to Montreal for my BA, I’d already been there before. Granted, it was only for a week-end when I was 13 but still, it wasn’t completely unknown territory. I remembered the horrible Lebanese restaurant I had eaten at, and the shopping centre. These faint memories were my security blanket once I rediscovered the city.
Having spent most of my life in France, people are often surprised that I have never visited the UK before. Because of my amazing high-school, I have had the opportunity to go on exchange to Canada (during which I hopped down to NYC), and Australia. However, the UK strangely never made the list. In hindsight, I could have visited the UK twelve times instead of spending all the savings of my 16 years of life on a plane ticket to Australia. I wouldn’t give back that experience for the world and I can wait till I’m 32 and can afford another ticket to the land down under.
It’s now time for a whole new experience and let me just tell you, I’m half excited, and half terrified. There are so many things to figure out, papers to sign, bank accounts to open… I’ve already achieved two of the hardest tasks: sorting through my books and my nail polish collection, but there are many more to come. When I moved to Canada, I was 18 and clueless. I mostly did everything wrong: health insurance, picking my courses; I didn’t even know the address of my residence when I got into the cab to drive me there. It took me two years to buy a pillow and three to figure out how to tip. Through all these mishaps, I’ve gathered a lot of knowledge and I’m pretty sure I can only do better this time around.
Now I just need to sort through my clothes (another hard one) and get on to the Eurostar next Friday. Hopefully, I’ll get safely to the other side. Claustrophobic me is not looking forward to the ‘tunnel under the sea’ portion of the trip.
On that note,
Ps: This was very relaxing to write. I might change up my posting schedule and add a Life Update segment so I can keep track of what’s going on inside my brain as I have no idea most of the time. More on that later.