Ashley's Arabian Adventure

I have made many references to the paying to pee in London, I'm sure. It irritates me anywhere but in Victoria station. I'm sure you are asking why, so let me answer that for you. Most places cost 50p (about 75 cents) and they are gross toilets. If you can't keep them clean, why in the world am I paying to use them? Anyway, Victoria's potties only cost 30p and they have those super cool speedy hand dryers. You know, the ones with the "air blade?" And Victoria's toilets are usually really clean. I'm down to pay when I know it's going to be clean.

So let me find my way back to the point to my story. Oh, so you have to have exact change for these superior toilets. There are change machines about two feet away, so no big deal. But what do you do when both change machines are out of change and you are about to pee your pants? Yep, I had to jump the arm thing. I was a bit embarrassed and slightly worried that someone would come after me.

The trip to Scotland was probably my favorite so far. We were only there for two days, but we had the best time. We participated in this torch thing for the start of Hogamany, climbed a volcano and watched a cheesy video about the Loch Ness monster. Well, and of course we did a ton of shopping. That was a lot of fun, but the most important thing was the amazing mexican food! We ate at the same place both days. It was so good. Yeah.

Oh the new year! It's always a bit exciting. We get to get all dressed up and go to a party and make new year's resolutions that we will ultimately forget about in approximately 4.7 days. Then we feel like failures of course. Why do we even make new years resolutions? Do we feel like we can only make major changes in ourselves when a new year begins? Why do people make 15 of them and really believe they will achieve something?

Well this year some friends and I were joking and making resolutions for each other. Of course it doesn't take long for that to hurt someone's feelings, as I'm sure you can imagine. The one that was made up for me was to be nicer. I tend to think I am generally nice, but as I started to think about it I realized that I'm not. Sure, I'll do anything for people I like. I'll serve in anyway I can...when it's a person I like. And even when I consider the people I like, I'm still not very nice to them. In any given conversation, I will probably say something sarcastic or rude. Even when I am trying to be nice or consciously thinking about not being sarcastic, it comes out somehow. I started to ask myself why.

I guess it goes back to about 7th grade. I realized that all the cool kids were the ones who had something sarcastic to say about everything. There was this guy called Andrew who was the funny guy that everyone liked. He always had a funny little quip for anything that was said or done. Being in the 7th grade and wanting to be cool, I started doing this. It's been downhill ever since. Now, ten years later, I can't shake it. I have been able to keep a small portion of these comments in my head, but there are times, well lots of times, when that filter seems to be out of order. And really, I would like for these comments to go away completely. I want to be filled with love for people rather than rude thoughts and words. But, in all actuality, I don't know how to be nice. I don't know how to stop this monster.

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.