Not in Siloam anymore.

Ladies and Gents, I no longer live in America. It may be English, but when you have to say, “Excuse me? What?” four times (before you still don’t understand and just nod and smile anyway) the “same language” thing doesn’t count.
BUT I don’t care very much at all because I would rather speak Irish. In this Irish form of English people say cheers instead of thank you, trousers instead of pants, give way instead of yield, sit-in instead of for here, and a bus driver calls you My Love instead of ma’am.
It’s beautiful. It’s all just beautiful. And I can’t believe that I live here for the next 3 months. It’s this precious, city place where the kids in school look like they go to Hogwart’s, exit signs are a picture of a running man, I always ride the bus, and the buildings all are exquisite, just works of art.
Anticipating it all and hoping to look less silly as days go on. It’s confirmed, I am Amercian. But quite a happy one, so who can complain


This is city hall. My bus stop for Bus 8AorB is right around the corner. Cutesy picnicers, ya?


And this is Queens University where Jess and I went today. Gorgeous.