A Lady in London

My boyfriend was kind enough to upgrade me to Business on my flight home from the U.S. to London.  When I arrived at Heathrow at the crack of dawn, my boarding pass allowed me to get into the American Airlines arrivals lounge in Terminal 3 so that I could take a leisurely shower and get some breakfast before starting my day in the UK.

Being germ-phobic (save for pork products, which I will eat regardless of the threat level of swine flu in London (my last post can attest to that!)), I took a shower with my trusty flip flops on.  No foot fungus for this Lady in London!

At the end of my shower, I stuffed said flops in a plastic bag to keep their moisture from oozing into the rest of my suitcase.  I thought I was being smart.

I wasn’t.

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I love ham. When I was a kid, the woman who ran my day care center nicknamed me The Ham Girl. While the other kids were on their best behavior for the prospect of a Sweet Tart or some Pop Rocks, I practiced the art of decorum in hopes of a few slices of Weight Watchers Deli Select.

My mother, who could easily eat her weight in chocolate (and has probably tried), has always been a bit disappointed in my lack of interest in the sugary things in life. However, she is indefatigably supportive of my love of ham. So much so that the other week she threw a big family birthday party for me, complete with a giant honey baked ham.

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I have always disliked LA. I can’t help it. Growing up in Northern California, I was taught to think less of my state’s lower half. Teachers made fun of LA in school. Parents warned us against the dual evils of smog and plastic surgery. Aside from Disneyland, there was no good reason to visit the greater Los Angeles area.

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I’m at my mother’s house, where the speed of her Internet connection is about as fast as the speed of her car on the highway. That is to say, very slow. (I have to poke fun at my dear mother in hopes that she gets a new computer before I’m back in CA next!) As such, I’m going to keep this short for now and add more later.

Last weekend took me to Los Angeles, where I visited my cousin, who just had a baby on April 1. Needless to say, she was the cutest baby girl in the whole world.

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On Monday I started a new job in London. On Tuesday I hopped on a plane to travel to San Francisco for three weeks of job training at company headquarters. Ironically, the company I’m working for is headquartered in Silicon Valley about three blocks away from my high school. My life has a funny way of bringing me back to California.

So far I have spent the entire week in the Valley, which is something I haven’t done since college. It’s strange to be back in the area where I grew up. After living in London for a year and a half, I’m seeing things from a completely new perspective.

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After spending half of January, half of February, and half of March outside of London, I wanted to spend some good quality time with my home city this weekend.

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Last month I took a whirlwind trip through northern India. I saw the sights in Delhi, visited the Taj Mahal at sunrise, explored Rajasthan, and went searching for tigers in Ranthambore National Park. It was an amazing experience, except for one thing: I only got to see a tiny part of the vast, diverse country that is India.

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