Well, my first official week in London has passed along sweetly. I had my LSE course induction on Thursday, where the details of my program were laid out, and I got to meet the rest of my classmates. We had a night out on Brick Lane, which was, of course, good East London fun.
On the walk to the pub, I got stopped by the police with my friends Kenta and Christian. They asked to search our bags as part of the ongoing terror watch. Being a snot, I asked to see their badges. They showed them, laughing a bit at the use of the apparently American term "badge" (they also asked me where in America I was from, and I responded "The 51st state. Canada!").
They gave us receipts for our records, but I used my "rights" and refused to give them my name and details (Police: Where do you live? Me: South London. Police: Well, that's pretty vague!). They were friendly, nonetheless (as were Christian and Kenta, who politely complied). When I got home however, I was disgusted to see that the officer had put my height as 5"8. Rude!
Yesterday we had a club night at LSE for Fresher's week. We had a beery and unhygienic game of flip cups, an American frat-boy classic, followed by lots of sweaty dancing to a regrettable soundtrack. On the walk home, I stopped on the middle of Blackfriars bridge and looked out at the Thames. It was windy as hell (as I've discovered London just always is), and the breeze whipped at me in a way that I could swear was cheeky but endearing.
I had spent the last week hurrying around the city, trying to look as local as possible. It's paid off, as I've had people asking me for directions almost daily (and so far, I've always been able to answer correctly). Last night, though, I threw that to the wind (literally), and just stood there for the longest time on the bridge, soaking in the city: my city. It feels so good to be here. Life is easy, for the first time in a long time. And I say that not really even knowing what "life" and "easy" really mean to me anymore.
But regardless, things are good.
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