The Next Chapter: Divergence

I can definitively say that this is going to be an exciting post for all of us, right here, right now. It just occurred to me how damn tired I am. I worked it out, and it's physically impossible for me to have slept more than two and two thirds of hours last night. Which is generally one of my favourite excuses for sub standard phrasing and grammar. Plus, being in Sweden (Oh. My. Goodness. ) the keyboard is whack and shift is replaced half the time with this variation of 'alt'. And to give you an idea of the conditions in which I am typing it took me about a minute to figure out how to make an apostrophe. And you can rest assured I'm not joking. But, completely inexplicable and just as noteworthy I am in fact obscenely happy! Mitra (My neighbor Ramteen's aunty off whom Í am currently freeloading) is singing to a Gun's and Roses power ballad in a beautiful Persian/Swedish accent which I love! My belly is warm with a generous helping of her acclaimed cooking (I was under a joy induced coma at the time that it was being served), my body is clean as the streets of the River Thames after one of my famous 30m showers, my clothes are being washed as we speak, and the fresh memories of the past day are coming to me like the plot to Quantam of Solace. Disjointed but delightful.


So where we left off I will assume was yesterday morning because I really cannot be bothered to check the last post. Unless there's a comment. In which case just re post it onto this one cheers. See how lazy I am after staying with Mitra only a matter of hours? She is incredible! Her passion for hospitality rivals the gong team. And let me tell you, that is no throwaway remark. So the morn of yest was memorable mostly because it was the third (Third? We're so lame) time that nick and I had promised crepes to katie and not delivered. But as a disclaimer we were woken into a volotile set of circumstances that justify our shortcomings. Mainly because katie had organised a removalist to come in 20m time and literally half of her apartment was nowhere near being ready for storage. Plus katie had her work farewell the night before. Need I say more? So we got it all done in fantastic time for the removalist to come. I can say without an inch of hesitation he was the worst removalist ever. His greatest moment was when (as we were still packing boxes) he came into the room looking as if he was about to burst into tears and with a clearly laboured breath he whined in his high pitched voice 'Is there anything more?'. There should be a manual for handling the emotionally needy who seem to forget that they're actually paid to work.


So katie took us to b'fast, then we went shopping. Like a great dam my wallet burst open from the pressure of months and months of frugality bordering on complete minimalism and I bought this gorgeous coat and a scarf. This improved my mood to no end! So I went home, packed my bag (years of tetris paying off) and went out to dinner with the underhill's cousin Patrick. It's a new approach for me to meet the people I'm going to be staying with over here. Tonight's Indian trumped lasts over and over, evident in our ruthless scouring of every dish on the table. Then it was time for town. Green and red, the tequila bar of brick lane, turned out to be quite the climax of my first stint in London. (So) many photos later, at 0130 (Yes, that was the actual time) katie and I left nick (or what was left of him) to catch my last bus.

This is where London opened up for me. This is where it was at. I sat down, and as soon as I had this lovely girl from south London turned around and asked about my guitar. Being disposed towards talking about anything that relates to me we talked until her stop at Picadilly. My next friend was upstairs. A shift worker from the south coast of England who spoke with this slow and precise accent about all things from ambition to success. Getting off at terminal 5 was where things began to unravel. A brief sleepy sojourn on the bus left me dull witted and disoriented. I remembered my mum's words though to keep a level head and not to let stress affect your deciison making. A bus driver I spoke to gave me a ride (FREE OF CHARGE!) to another central bus station where I met a man from Nigeria who told me I needed terminal 4. So with less than an hour left the scene can be captured in an image of me, bags and loose clothing strewn across my shoulders, running towards the check in gates. I woke up after each flight (In Amsterdam and Copenhagen chronologically) with my plane food on my lap and just kept moving. Asking people about anything has been so useful. So next thing I know I'm on my way to Malmo along the ocean finding out the first Swede I met was not only unemployed but a drug pusher and I'm thinking, this so so damn awesome! Europe, it's all about the people!

So, having a taste for the cocktail of uncertainty and éxcitement that was backpacking I am looking forward to both Mitra's incredible meals now and the void beyond. And I know for sure that this is where I was always supposed to be at this moment, here and now.

P.S bloody hell I just thought I deleted this entire post but I am stoked to say nothing in the room was mutilated. I probably wouldn't have written another one today!