Ashley's Arabian Adventure

I thought I had it this year. I mean last year was my first Christmas without the family and all, so this year I should be a pro at it. Aaaand my wonderful friend Anna is here sacrificing her Christmas with her family to spend it with me. That means I shouldn't be having a pity party, right? I suck at this.

We have known each other for many years, but there has never been any attraction. Actually I have been quite avoidant all this time. However my interest was peaked this summer. We spent a lot of time around each other and it was rather unavoidable. As I considered it, I thought it might actually work. It couldn't possibly be as bad as I thought at least. I gave in little by little and by the end of the summer I was all about it. As I returned to the UK my interest didn't falter, but grew stronger and stronger. This week I realised that it is official; I am head over heels. It kind snuck up on me, really. Who knew I could like coffee this much? I may need to switch to decaf though.

I have recently discovered that being in my line of work and living in a cool place like England makes for many trips to the airport. And when there is a great coffee shop with a great view of the international arrivals area, who can complain? Well last night I went to go pick up a friend from Madrid and her flight ran a little late. That was fine because we still had an hour until the last train back. Well, she had some problems coming through passport controls and we ended up on the last train home. This would have been fine except the train wasn't making the usual announcements about where it was stopping and such. I didn't realise this until the train was leaving my stop. Yikes! So we got off at the next stop and discovered that there wasn't another train going the other way and stopping at my stop. We debated on going back to the airport and taking a taxi from there since it was much closer than where we were, but that train wasn't leaving for 40 minutes and is was almost 1am anyway. In the end we decided to just take a taxi from there and about $60 and over half an hour later we made it home. I am pretty sure the guy took the long way, but oh well. I was just thankful that the first time I ended up stuck I wasn't alone! The sidewalks pretty much roll up at about 6:00 here, so 1:00 in the morning would be a bit scary alone, I think.

British boys like to cry. Actually most European men seem to be a bit too in touch with their feminine side. They wear manpris and skinny jeans. As it turns out, English guys aren't very good looking either. I must have forgotten how good-looking American men are. I first noticed this several months ago with that English guy I went on a couple of dates with. I actually met him the day after I moved here. The first time I saw him, I did not think he was cute at all. Several months later, when we started hanging out, I noticed that he was actually good looking. Or so I thought. When I was in America for a week I caught myself checking out just about every guy I saw. I kept thinking that there was an unusal abundance of hotness in my vicinity. It turns out, I realised, that I just wasn't used to seeing manly, hot guys.

As The X Factor was sending Diana home, Eoghan starts bawling. Yeah, he's going to feel pretty retarded when he sees that later. A friend of mine, after seeing this display of emotion, was telling her daughter to date guys who sweat and not guys who cry. This can be a difficult task when living in any European country, I believe. But as I thought about that statement I realised that it pretty summed it up for me. He has to love Jesus and he has to get sweaty. And I guess the only other important thing is that he has to be hilarious. So I guess I want a funny, sweaty man of God.

After writing this I realised that it may not quite be appropriate to post since I gave this blog address out to everyone, including little old ladies from my church. But I am just going to acknowledge the awkwardness and post it anyway. That's how I roll.

I just got back from the states this morning and though I really enjoyed my trip, I am so glad to be home. I guess the best cure for homesickness is an overdose of home. I think I am good for a while. It's funny how that works, isn't it?

The trip was really, really good though. I got to see most of my friends and I got to eat Taco Bell a few times. And of course I made a massive Walmart run. I had to stock up on Velveeta and other wonderfulness like that. I have been wanting to see Johnny Cooper in concert for a long time and I finally got to do that. I am pretty sure I got food poisoning from Red Lobster and I thought I might not be able to fly home, but after a small prayer and one more run to the bathroom and I was good. Well, good enough to be able to stand up without feeling ridiculously nauseous and faint, I guess. But enough about that. I got a whole row of seats to myself on my long flight. A Tylenol PM and and a whole row of seats makes for a nice solid night of sleep and I can't complain about that. I think I am going to go start on the huge task of unpacking now. I brought a sewing machine back!

It doesn't happen very often, but when this song is played at my church I get really confused. I see the words and I hear everyone else singing those words, but it just isn't right. Then I quickly remember that the Brits have their own way of doing this song, as well as some Christmas carols. So today I had to come home and listen to it done "the right way." Anyway for your listening pleasure I have included a video I found of it being done the British way. Please note that most of the people in the crowd are drinking beer.

Coming from a warm culture and being pretty outgoing, I have found it difficult to get used to this cold culture I live in. However, I have lived here for more than a year now and I thought I had it mostly figured out. This morning on my way to work I learned something new. There is this lady in my building (I don't know her name) and she has a dog. We often say hello as we cross paths inside the building and I often stop and pet her dog. Well I saw her walking the dog as I was on my way to work and I smiled and got ready to say hello and she totally looked the other way. It was obviously to avoid talking to me. I have learned not to talk to people you don't know at all, but since we have spoken before I thought a hello would be okay here. Obviously not. Maybe the rule extends to not talking to people in public unless you know their name or are actually friends with them. I don't know, but I guess I am still learning this crazy culture.

It hasn't been all that long since I posted about the wonderful things that you can find in souvenir shops around here and one of the things I hoped to see. While my parents were in town we did some souvenir shopping and you will never believe what I found!So it isn't a teapot and it isn't Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II, but it's pretty darn amazing. Ten points for the first person to name this queen. I have to say this was almost as good as the tour we took at the Tower. Quite amazing.

Well speaking of my parents being in town, I have another rather funny story. I took them to Paris for a weekend and my dad's only request was to see Jim Morrison's grave. I didn't know who he was either, but apparently he was the lead singer in the group The Doors. And apparently my dad has a man crush on him. Anyway, I located the cemetary via google maps and we found our way there. My dad insisted on buying a rose to put on his grave (see, man crush). On our way there we met some Canadians that were also there to "see Jim." As we approached the gravesite we saw a rather large crowd. The next thing I know my dad hands me a camera and is headed over the barrier.

There is he is, rose in his teeth, behind the barrier to get to Jim. As my stepmom and I are yelling at him to stop, my dad says "What would Jim do?" If you remember the WWJD bracelet fad, this may be even funnier to you. Anyway, the Canadians then encourage him with a "Yeah, man!" and "You go, man!" And here is my dad achieving one of the goals on his bucket list.
For more photos of my ridiculous vacation with my parents in Europe, you'll have to hit up the facebook page. Also, I have to admit, I finally figured out how to add photos and make them go where you want them on here. So maybe I will start adding them more often. Maybe.

I made an appointment at the dentist and they called me to change it. So I changed the appointment time and they sent me a letter in the mail to remind me of the appointment time. I showed up early for the appointment and they sent me to the waiting room. Almost an hour later I thought I should probably ask how much longer it might be. I went to the receptionist and asked and she kindly replied that I had no appointment today. Seriously? I got a phone call and a letter telling me that I had an appointment and when I checked in I was sent to the waiting room. You might ask yourself why did the receptionist not tell me when I arrived that I didn't have an appointment? Why did I get a letter and a phone call? Why did they not tell me when they realized the mistake? Why did I sit in the waiting room for almost an hour? In my year overseas I have learned it is better not to ask the "why" question and just go with it. I remind myself that I am not in America and things don't have to make sense here.

I got to take a trip to Amsterdam this week and it was great. I saw the Anne Frank house, the canal, the Van Gogh museum, which by the way does not contain Starry Night. It's in New York at the Met and I was a bit disappointed by that. But my favorite is Almond Blossom and I got to see it and I bought a print. It's lovely. Our hostel was almost in the red light district, so I saw that as well. It was actually not quite as scandalous as I was expecting, but it was pretty bad. I also didn't really think people would be smoking pot everywhere, but they were. I don't know why I was so surprised.

When we first arrived we had to ask for directions to try and find our hostel. The guy we were talking to warned us to watch out for the bikes because they think they own the place. He was right and I now have unnatural fear of bikes. Just kidding, but I really did get hit by one. I was walking and I heard someone screaming and the little bell ringing. I knew a bike was coming at me so I just stopped. I figured she could go left or right if I stopped, but she didn't. She had managed to slow down before hitting me though, so I was able to walk away unscathed. No trip is complete without some kind of incident, I suppose.