Sunny Days!

It's been a week since I have left England and it feels like much, much longer than that. I've spent the last week relaxing, taking care of the gardens and talking to the cats an alarming amount. I've also spent the last week unwinding from one of those travel experiences that makes me want to take a canoe back to England next month.

After school finished, Tom was waiting to take me down to Heathrow. Thankfully, there was no traffic on the road and we made it to the airport with a couple hours to spare. No issues with check-in, security and I was lining up to finally board the plane to get home. I was sitting in the back of the plane--second row to the back, to be exact--and realized I had a window seat. Not too bad. Then I saw the women sitting beside me--a mother and daughter duo, the mother in her 50s or 60s, mother in her 80s or older. The women were Israeli, spoke very little English and seemed to have brought their entire lives with them in the form of carry-on luggage: stuffed in the overhead, piled on my seat, piled under all the seats in the row, including mine, and more on the laps of both women . What the hell happened to one piece per passenger? Nevertheless, up they get, the luggage is shifted and I'm squeezed in next to mama--and mama is one hefty woman. 

 As soon as the in-flight entertainment was switched on, Mother gets me to bring up the map of our flight on her screen (which isn't an easy thing to do when you can't see the damn screen) and then Daughter wants the same. I tried explaining I couldn't see her screen but told her step by step instructions, through which she kept shaking her head, saying "no, you--you, no me--you" and pointing to her screen. Around this time, the in-flight service started and, ignoring the looks the dynamic duo gave me, I was more than happy for an in-flight drink.

 Every time I tried watching a movie, Mama would slap her large arm down on my armrest, effectively turning off my screen and making me want to pull my hair out. About four time, I tried delicately shifting her arm which just led her to really take hold of the arm rest and I gave up. It seemed like I wasn't destined to watch The Lorax after all. Well, turns out I was wrong.

 Mama removes her arm from my armrest and I gleefully switch my TV back on. In the 30 seconds between turning my TV and my movie starting, I hear a sound. Crying. Not the usual screaming-baby-on-an-airplane-crying. But definitely crying. I look over and see Mama just wailing. Dear God. I lean forward and then seen daughter with a veil over her head, hands over her eyes and she is rocking back and forth, praying--loudly. The racket was drawing attention from, well, everyone. The cabin crew took turns coming and asking if they needed anything and were effectively ignored. I always got a sympathetic look...which didn't do much to stop the staring. The dynamic duo finally quiet down just in time for dinner. God knows that they didn't want the kosher meal specially prepared for them and they wanted to have a picnic at 37,000 feet. What a stink! I don't know if the food was prepared when Mama was still a young woman or what they put in it, but the entire back of the plane started smelling like their food...and it was not haute cuisine...just saying.


The remaining 5 or so endless hours of the flight didn't see much improvement. There was no personal air-flow control on the plane and both Mama and Daughter seemed to overheat quite quickly. So they were up about twice an hour. Every hour. And all that baggage had to go somewhere. Onto the seats, under my seat, on my lap. Good God. I couldn't get off that plane fast enough.


So, I've made it home for the next six weeks. Aside from a trip to Halifax for my Visa, I plan on relaxing at home and catching up with friends and family. I'm finally getting to enjoy some proper summer weather; it's not going to be much fun when I have to start wearing makeup or shoes again. Well...33 days left to enjoy it. Excellent.

The Home Stretch

Well, I've finally made it to the home stretch. I am barely 2 weeks away from home and the end of my second year of teaching. It's been a long year, full of all kinds of new experiences, both the good and bad. There. That's the most reflective that I'll be in this post.

 I'm proud to say that I am able to cross another place off of my bucket list. I visited Tintern Abbey, just across the Welsh border, a few days ago. To explain why this place drew me so much...

In my third year of university, I was taking an English Literature course and we had a 5 pound textbook...I'm not even close to exaggerating (I weighed the sucker). In this textbook were all of the texts, poems, extracts, sonnets, passages, soon and so forth, that we needed to have in our possession to be a successful English student. One such poem was Wordsworth's poem, aptly named "Tintern Abbey." Alongside the poem was a beautiful picture of the Abbey. At that moment, I knew that I had to see this place in person one day. It was such a beautiful, ethereal and almost too beautiful for words.

If I thought a picture of the place was spectacular, being there in person is almost indescribable. It was beauty beyond words and a wonderful way to spend an afternoon. So, another country and another site off my list.

Not much else to report...I think everyone is in countdown mode now, students and staff alike. Roll on summer.

Oh. I suppose I must now eat my words. Not only have I reconciled with Tom (we all remember Tom)...we're dating. True story.

Damn.

The British men finally got me.