An Early Farewell

After weeks of procrastination and avoidance I’ve decided to bring this lovely blog to a close. Although I have greatly enjoyed writing entries and keeping my family and friends updated on my life “in Africa;” this public journal has unfortunately become just one of the many things added to my to-do list… and seeing as I only have 6 weeks left in Ghana, there are many things that take priority over updating my blog (such as learning how to balance things on my head and carry babies on my back). But not to worry, there will be many more blogs to come… as soon as I figure out which country to go to next!

Until next time…

Jenny

Finding My Fellow Anarchists!

I recently realized that although I've painted an accurate picture of the very conservative values shared by most Ghanaian, I have yet to portray any of the more progressive ideas that some people posses here. To do so I'll share with all of you some interesting photos I've taken... enjoy!This was a feminist section in the only book store I've found here. When I saw it I got so excited I jumped and down, I scared the cashier a little, but I just couldn't contain myself!
This might be my favorite... totally inappropriate here, but hilarious!
A homeopathic medicine stand at the Trades Fair... this ones not progressive, just very strange and inappropriate.
Finally! Someone who has some clarity!!!!
Yes... she is sitting on the crapper. This one's not particularly liberal either... but it is improper!
Seeing as the word "vegetarian" doesn't exist here (in English or Twi) this poster took me by surprise... then again I was at the only vegetarian restaurant in Accra.

Happy Anniversary!

Today marks Ghana’s 53^rd year of independence from British rule, and my two-month anniversary of being here. In honor of Ghana’s liberation the National stadium hosted a celebratory Reggae concert last night, which I of course had to attend. Not surprisingly, this place was filled to the brim with Rastas. I’ve never seen so much weed in my life! The arena was literally filled with smoke. There was absolutely no security and everyone was free to smoke their ganja out in the open; which is crazy because technically weed is not only illegal here, but according to the rule books you get a ten year sentence in prison if caught in possession… clearly this law is not enforced.

My favorite part of the night was meeting my new friend “Shepherd.” We met because I couldn’t stop staring at his large plate of weed balanced precariously on his lap as he rolled some joints and bounced along to the beat. We hit it off instantly, better than my new friend “Bush Doctor,” and yes that is his name. “Bush Doctor” is an herbalist, and a self proclaimed Nazir, that I managed to thoroughly scare. After a brief conversation about my own proclivity to homeopathic, holistic, and herbal medicine, I somehow mentioned my interest in voodoo and palmistry, and a million other things that are seen as very dangerous by devout Christians like “Bush Doctor.” As if I hadn’t already scared him enough, we started discussing the biblical story of Samson (the most famous Nazir), and the feminist that I am, I defended Delilah, the character in the story that like many other biblical tales is portrayed as a wicked being that uses her sexuality to seduce Samson into breaking his pact with God. Needless to say, he steered clear of me the rest of the night.

I’m hoping to celebrate the holiday tonight at one of the many raves happening around Accra. I’ve never actually been to a rave before, but it could be pretty hilarious here, especially considering the fact that ecstasy and techno (the two key ingredients for a rave) are basically nonexistent here from what I can tell, so this should be interesting!

Purim in Ghana!

As someone who wanted to be a costume designer almost her entire life, I take Purim very seriously. My costume must incorporate 3 out of the major 5 elements of a good costume. It must be witty, fear-invoking, somehow involving body paint, made from recycled (non-fabric) materials, or relevant to the occasion it is worn to.

It was clear that I had to be a Juju man. For those of you that don’t know, Juju men are voodoo witch doctors found throughout West Africa. This was the perfect costume for me for many reasons. 1. I love all things magical and mysterious, especially voodoo, considering its’ strong link to New Orleans 2. I wish I was a Juju man and I’m currently desperately trying to find out how I become one 3. I get to wear lipstick on my face and tell everyone it’s blood (that would be the fear-invoking aspect) 5. Juju man sounds strangely close to jewjew man, which is just very ironic considering voodoo falls into the category of hedonistic idol worship, a big no-no in Judaism 6. I got to run around with my mini tambourine gragger on a drum-stick shaking it like Rafiki in the Lion King! In case you were wondering, Rafiki was the baboon version of a Juju man, one more reason why he was my favorite character (not to mention the blue butt)!

Clearly my Purim was a huge success. Aside from an awesome costume, I got to celebrate with all my Ghanaian dorm-mates at our lovely Purim party hosted by the always wonderful "jew-unit," (three amazing girls who help me not disappoint my grandparents)… we even made Hamantashen and reenacted the Purim story… I was Vashti of course. Who knew being Jewish in Ghana could be so fun??

The Inevitable Plunge into Uncharted Territory

"And the earth swallowed her up," a line I'm sure was uttered last night after I not so soberly fell into an open sewer. Between the biblical undertones and the accurate depiction of the events that ensued that description would be very fitting in this country. To be completely honest, "fall" might be giving me too much credit. It makes it sound as though I tripped or lost balance and collapsed into the sewer, which is very possible, but not the case. On the contrary, I actually walked right into it. Completely oblivious of the gaping threshold before me, I continued to walk as though I could walk on air, but apparently I don't have that ability. I always hoped that in a time of need my fairy wings would magically sprout from my shoulder blades and bring me to safety, but maybe this just wasn’t the right moment, I know they’ll come someday.

Considering I’m only 5’2 and the sewer was probably around 2 feet deep, it looked as though I was performing a magic trick. Now you see her now you don’t! It was like a game of peek-a-boo, too bad my only audience was a group of middle aged Ghanaian men that responded to my tumble with the same “Oh!” they use when their favorite futballer goes down hard. I can’t lie, I was a little flattered.

I knew that I’d have to get up close and personal with a sewer sooner or later. At least this one was empty, it could have been a lot worse. And I came out without a scratch, although that saying really doesn’t account for any injuries that don’t fall under the scratch category. But aside from a very large, bruised knee, and a bit of a hobble, I made it out okay.

In the ongoing battle between myself and the open sewer I think I won this time. It must be karma after my almost arrest involving another gaping hole filled with shit. Final score 1:1, who will be victorious next? Only time will tell.

Sisterhood of the Traveling Toilet Paper

After a week of good food, mommy-daughter slumber parties, and medical mishaps, I finally had to say bye to my mom on Thursday night. Luckily, I had no time to get homesick because I left promptly at 5:45 am the next morning with five of my girlfriends to Green Turtle Lodge, an eco-lodge about 6 hours away.

From magically finding six seats on a sold out bus, to getting the last two tents available, it seemed as though karma was balancing the scale after a week of somewhat horrible luck. This weekend was exactly what I needed to revamp. I was getting a little overwhelmed by all the smoke and exhaust polluting Accra and a camping trip under the stars, on a beautiful sandy beach at an environmentally friendly lodge was exactly the medicine I needed. Plus they had really good french toast!

We had so many adorable Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants moments this weekend. Between star gazing for shooting stars with our heads in a circle, sleeping on the beach till it rained at 3 am, and playing sober truth or dare, it was basically the best slumber party I've ever been to!

While at Green Turtle we got to go on a canoe ride through the river that runs along the local village. After convincing Emmanuel, our tour guide and the captain of our ship, to sing to us in TWI and asking him many strange questions I somehow found out that he loved to draw. Apparently, he really would like to be an artist but has no formal training whatsoever. When I told him that I also do a lot of art he got really excited and asked me if I could teach him how to mix colors. I gladly obliged, and spent the afternoon teaching him about the color wheel, 3-D vs 2-D, different mediums.... When I go back I'm going to bring my watercolors and oil pastels so he can try something other than drawing!

Talking to him really made me appreciate everything I've been blessed with. Being here has already made me realize how lucky I am to have even the simplest things, like water and power on a consistent basis, but I never really think about how lucky I am to have art supplies and an education system that, even with all of the budget cuts, still provides an artistic outlet to children. I couldn't even imagine my childhood without crayons/markers/finger paint/play-dough/charcoal... and I definitely can't imagine my adult life without art supplies. Being here has really helped me put a lot in perspective. Obviously acrylic paint is not a necessity, but it really does make me happy, as do hot showers, air conditioning and tofu. Being here has taught me that I can live without many things that we in America consider necessity, but that doesn't mean that I have to go back and continue to take bucket showers and not be able to flush the toilet for days, it just means that I have to be more appreciative and realize that the majority of the world can't even comprehend the kind of life Americans lead.

Moreover, my actions make a negative impact on the entire planet, so I should be more cognizant of how much energy I'm using and be aware of my carbon footprint, because everyone is being affected by climate change, but one country (my country) is disproportionately causing much of the problem due to our lavish lifestyle. So now that I know I can live my life with a severely smaller amount of water and energy I should work to cut down my personal expenditure.

And now I'll stop myself before I get too carried away about climate change, although I probably already have!

You're Never too Old to Want Your Mommy

Surprise! My mom came to visit me all the way in Ghana! Well, it wasn't a surprise for me, but it probably is for everyone reading this. So Yay!!!!! You can all get excited with me!

When my mom got here on Thursday I already thought I was the luckiest girl in the world, first because my mom came all the way to West Africa to see me, and second because by some magical twist of fate she got in to Ghana just hours before a last second dance performance I was in. The timing of her visit couldn't be more perfect, or so I thought until I got a little injured at the rehearsal before the show. Due to the energetic, somewhat violent nature of the choreography, another dancer and I collided and apparently my tooth went through my face. (That sounds grosser than it looks I promise!)

At first I thought that I had just bit my lip pretty badly, but when I saw everyone's scared faces I realized there was blood all over my chin. Thank goodness everyone in Ghana carries a handkerchief with them to wipe the sweat off their brow, because it came in handy when I had to go meet my mom. I didn't exactly want to greet her with blood running down my face, if my mom was gonna cry when she saw me I wanted it to be happy tears, not fearful ones. Luckily, it stopped bleeding enough for me to perform and my mom was there to hold my hand afterwards at the pharmacy (pharmacies are more reliable here than hospitals). I really don't know what I would have done if she wasn't here. Even at 20, in a developing country in West Africa, it still helps to know that my mommy is nearby!

The good news is my face is looking a lot better! It looks like I either got a really strange piercing that went very wrong, or like I got in a fight that didn't end well for me. Between the gash and the cornrows I got for the show, I kind of look like a bad ass if you ask me, or at least more than I ever have before. I think I like it!

Reality Check

After over a week of intense bloging writers' block I finally have a lot I want to say. Today I experienced the biggest culture shock I've had since I arrived over a month ago. It slapped me in the face harder than the realization that there is no 911 here, scary.

This cataclysmic crash into reality happened in my social work class, entitled "Working with People Living with HIV/AIDS." Although I have already had this class multiple times, before today there was only slight foreshadowing of the extreme narrow mindedness shared by both the students and the teachers in this class. Aside from making multiple statements that prolong false myths and fears related to HIV contraction, the professor gave us a startling lecture about gender and sexuality, my minor, and a subject I feel very passionately about. Aside from her false definitions of sex and gender, she also told the class that people needing counseling due to sexual deviance were homosexuals, lesbians (as if they don't also fall into the category of homosexuality), "masturbaters," and those engaging in bestiality. I don't know if I have ever felt such an extreme array of emotions at once. I wanted to cry, I wanted to scream, and I even wanted to laugh. It all was just too much for me to handle. I knew that Ghanaians frowned on homosexuality (enough so that sodomy is illegal), but I never thought a professor for a course that deals specifically with a sexually transmitted disease would share such discriminatory views.

The horrifically false statements only continued with hypothetical situations of people contracting HIV from sharing toothbrushes and unclean manicure instruments. When I joined this class I was excited to be at the forefront of West African HIV education and prevention techniques, joining the most progressive Ghanaians in a quest to de-stigmatize a disease that not only ends people's physical lives, but due to stigma, ends their personal and social lives as well. However, I was greatly disappointed by what I found. As someone who is usually very outspoken about my own sexuality, I am scared to openly speak to my classmates and peers for fear of being ostracized.

Rough day, but at least my Theater for Development class is incredible. We're making a puppet show to educate people about climate change... I won't even get started on all of the misconceptions related to the environment, but at least we're working towards a good goal, which is more than I can say for our HIV class.

You Have the Right to Remain Silent. Will You Marry Me?

As you all know, I am somewhat of an environmentalist. I reuse all my plastic bags, make recycled art, have a compost heap, and even try to buy clothes made out of sustainable fabric. So you can imagine how horrible it feels every time I have to litter in this country. Unfortunately, like India, Ghana has a severe lack of garbage cans. Because of the scarcity of bins and abundance of rubbish, large mounds of trash accumulate in all of the open sewers I described in earlier posts.

For the first two weeks I was here I still couldn't bring myself to throw my trash in the gutter, but after 14 days of stashing trash in my purse I finally began to give in to this disgusting habit. I figured when in Ghana do as the Ghanaians do... but that was not my best idea. Apparently even though every single person partakes in polluting this country, it is in fact illegal to litter. Who knew? I sure didn't.

This didn't bode well for me when I was caught littering outside of Makola market in downtown Accra. I was stopped by five officers who proceeded to tell me that I had offended the law and now was in their custody. That's Ghanaian-English for "We're arresting you." Luckily, my roommate had the foresight to call the director of our international program (a Ghanaian man) who could talk some sense into the cops that so clearly were just looking to get a nice meaty bribe from some rich Obrunis. While Mr. Kwasi was saving my ass on the phone I decided to play into the Ghanaian fetish for surprisingly friendly Obrunis and sweet talk them into letting me go. I put on the fakest smile I have in my arsenal and attempted to charm them in my very broken TWI. It somehow miraculously worked! Within an hour I was free to go and had two invitations to two officers' homes, and a marriage proposal.

Oh ya I forgot to mention how common marriage proposals are here, they've become a regular part of my daily routine. So much so that I've begun to tell people I'm engaged to ward off all the taxi drivers, tro tro mates, and apparently police officers that attempt to take me as their wife. But I don't think I'm fooling anyone with the peace sign ring on my finger, I'm currently on the market for a cubic zirconium engagement ring to make it look more believable. I've also tried telling the men here I was gay but that just went way over their heads. I don't even want to know what they would say if I said I was transgender, I guess there's only one way to find out!

Neverland

Yesterday was my first day of my internship at the Orphanage and I think I fell in love. My heart literally melted. These children are so sweet and affectionate, and they have such big personalities! When they're not climbing on you and eating soap (no unfortunately that's not a typo) all they want is to be held. I'm gonna be so ripped at the end of the semester after holding all these adorable children. I've already mastered holding two at a time, but I'm aiming to do three by the end of the week.

In the morning I help with their schooling, which is a lot more challenging than I expected. I knew it would be hard to control the children, because they know an "obruni" (white person) won't hit them, but I didn't realize how emotionally taxing it would be. The hardest part was realizing that one of my six year olds didn't know how to count to ten. No, actually the most heart breaking part of my day was finding that none of my kids knew how old they were. I don't know if that's because the orphanage doesn't have that information, or if the children just don't know their numbers well enough to know their age, but regardless, it needs to change.

The orphanage is really a wonderful place though, the children receive an incredible amount of love and affection from all of the staff and volunteers, and from each other. The four and a half hours I spent there yesterday may be the best four and a half hours I've had since I arrived. Exhausting, but incredible.

The latter half of my day there is a bit more fun. I get to do basically whatever I want with them, so naturally we did Native American rain dances and a million head stands and cartwheels! They are very fast learners. But they taught me too! They showed me a ton of different ways to hang upside down from the monkey bars, and we all made crazy monkey noises! Needless to say, when the head of the orphanage asked who the dancer was I got a little scared that she was going to tell me I have to stop encouraging strange behavior; but instead she asked me if I could choreograph a dance for the kids. I don't know if I've ever said yes to anything so quickly.

I'm so happy I'm working with kids here, when I'm around kids I feel like I'm in my natural habitat, where I can be who I really am- still just a little kid who wants to eat ice cream, dance in circles till the sky looks tilted, and laugh so hard she pees in her pants! Speaking of which, I forgot to mention the funniest part of my day yesterday. I got peed on. No joke, I smelled like a urinal all day. One of my little girls didn't make it to the toilet, but instead of telling me she decided to show me... by sitting on my lap. I'm usually a fan of non-verbal communication, but this might be an exception. Especially because I still don't have water. So again you all are very lucky you can't smell me!

A Different Kind of Time Change

I am currently sitting in my mosquito net covered bed, listening to my neighbors sing sunday prayers, getting my awesome tie-dye sheets sufficiently covered in sand, and waiting for the water to turn back on. That's what I call multi-tasking. Taking a shower here is like playing Russian Roulette, you never know when you're gonna get stuck with shampoo still in your hair or a toothbrush full of toothpaste... or in my case a body full of Bojo Beach sand. The down side is you end up smelling a little on the funky side more often than you'd like to, but the up side is you always have an excuse for being absolutely disgusting!

Productivity takes on a whole new meaning in Ghana. At home a productive day for me means I've accomplished a large to do list of homework assignments, errands, or fun activities. Here, a full day is one that accomplishes one task... if that. For example, yesterday my day's activity was getting lunch. I kid you not, it literally took me all day to get to and from a nearby restaurant that serves veggie friendly food. It was totally worth it, but a little frustrating. I'm still not used to the fact that taking out cash or getting groceries is a day long activity, but I'm getting there. I'm sure by the time I get back I'll have a whole new perception of time.

Today my days' activity was going to a beach about an hour away from Legon. It was beautiful and only semi-touristy, but even an hour away the beaches here are still decorated by an inordinate number of plastic bags. The coolest part of the beach: Ghanandolas. Pretty awesome.

Tomorrow's to do list is class and shower, that is if the water goes back on. Not too exciting. It's funny because every time I try to write an entry for this blog I realize how

few stories I have... or at least not in the traditional sense of a story. For example, today the Mate on my tro tro told me he loved me. We had never met. Now that was a pretty funny moment, but that's it- the story doesn't continue. Start to finish in one sentence. And there are many more where that came from. It makes the "what did you do last night" conversation go a lot faster, which is kind of nice, but blogging is a little challenging.

So now that I've explained my predicament I'll share some of my one-liner stories.

Last night I went to a benefit concert for Haiti where the Ghanaian version of Paris Hilton (a rich heiress with no real talent, covered in lots of glitter and attempting to sing on key) performed her hit song "Ete sen? Eye" (which means "How are you? Good," real clever lyrics). The rest of the concert was amazing, but she was not rockin it.

Earlier this week one of my professors didnt show up to the first day of class because the classroom was too far away. He somehow managed to relay the message to us that it was our job to find a different available classroom closer to the main entrance. I still have no idea where that class is.

Ghanaian karaoke might be the funniest thing I've ever seen. All I have to say is Cher+Ghanaian accents=a beautiful thing.

Finally, I saved the best for last. A woman asked me today if I was jealous of her beard, and yes she did really have a beard, and yes, I was jealous.

The Trials and Tribulations of a Vegetarian

After only being here two weeks I've managed to already unknowingly eat animals three times, the only three times that's happened in the last 4 years that I've been a vegetarian. Needless to say, Ghanaians don't really understand the concept, I literally have to say in TWI, "My body doesn't like it" (which means I'm allergic) for them to even slightly understand. But the last time I said that I found a fish head in my okra soup :(. Seriously, a fish head, not a scale or piece of meat, the HEAD! I almost cried. For all of those reading this who already know too much about my life, you know I've had recurring nightmares about killing a fish with my bare hands, so holding a fish head in between my fingers was pretty horrifying.

I've learned that eating traditional Ghanaian food probably just isn't a good idea. Aside from the hidden, and not so hidden meat in everything, it's ALL fried. I thought the south was bad with fried food, but Ghana kicks their ass in the fried department. The only vegetable like substance found at restaurants and chop bars here are french fries, fried yams, and fried plantains... scary. But I've been finding some loopholes; I'm sure by the end of the semester I'll have a million things to eat, but for the time being groundnut paste (peanut butter) has become my new best friend. I think the love is mutual!

Chocolate, Children, and Everything in Between

Its only been four days since my last post but I've already done so much! If I were to describe it all in detail this blog would soon become a novel, so to spare you all and make it slightly more interesting Im just going to turn this entry into a picture diary. There will be more photos published on facebook but for now I'll share the ones that paint a picture of my recent adventures. Enjoy!

Learning how to make Cocoa at Ghana's first cocoa farm. 40% of Ghana's exports is cocoa, it is the second largest cocoa producer in the world.

Playing with children at the nearby school!

Hard at work at the wood carving village.

Manual pump gas station. You turn the handle, wait for the glass vile to fill and then let it empty in to your car, then repeat.

Beautiful hollow tree in the Aburi Gardens!

The only tree I've ever climbed from the inside!

The first lighthouse ever built in Ghana, only seconds away from the hungry vultures picking through garbage on the beach.

You're All Lucky You Can't Smell Me From the US!

I am currently redefining the word dirty. Even after my 8-day spree of no showering in India, nothing compares to the utter filth coating my body at this very moment. My feet are literally brown from dirt, not to mention my face, body, and clothing. Nothing is spared by the ever present Ghanaian dirt. In fact, there's probably some up my nose at this very moment, but I'm too scared to check, I'd rather be ignorant of my internal filth.

It doesn't help that it's a million degrees outside with intense sun and high humidity. The sweat actually acts as an adhesive for the dust, it's quite impressive actually. I'm estimating that by the end of my stay here people will no longer be calling me obruni (the Twi term for white person), instead they will have to call me brown person!

Speaking of Twi, I started my Twi class yesterday, even though the registration period started today. I've learned a ton of new words already but my favorite is tikya, pronounced teachah. And yes, you guessed it, it is the word for to teacher. Pretty awesome.

Other than Twi, I'm not in any other classes yet. Today I began the registration process, which consisted of me trekking around the enormous campus to each and every department that I'd possibly like to take a class in. There is no such thing as on line registration here, let alone any centralized database of updated courses offered this semester. Therefore, to register you must first go to each department to simply look at the list of classes they will offer. Once you have seen all the departmental lists (which by the way are stapled onto very well hidden bulletin boards) you must create a list of courses you'd like to take. Then, you go back to those departments a week later, when they eventually post the time tables, and see if there are any scheduling conflicts among the courses you selected. Finally, you go back AGAIN to each department and register by writing your name on a list of students enrolled in the class.

Needless to say, I had a long day! But I'm starting to know my way around campus, after hours of wandering it would be scary if I didn't!

Must shower before the dirt eats me alive... Nante yie (Twi for good bye, literally translation: walk safely)!

Akwaaba!

A sigh of relief exits my lips as I see this much anticipated greeting plastered above my head at the Kotoko International Airport in Accra.

I have now been here for two days, but I swear it feels like weeks! Ghana is like no country I've ever seen before. All of the buildings here are very spread out, making tro tros a much more appealing option than walking. Tro tros are the public transit here, but they aren't like any train or bus in the States. A tro tro is a large van that crams around 22 people inside, give or take a goat or two. I've only been on a tro tro once so far but I really enjoyed it! People are really good drivers here, or at least better than Israel and India. However, there are no pedestrian laws so if you're gonna cross the street you better be ready to run!

In terms of what Accra actually looks like, I dont know if I can put it into words. Colors look different here. I'm convinced it's all the dust in the air. Everything is softer on the eyes, except the browns, there are a million shades of brown! I find myself enthralled by the ground below me, unable to look away from the rich indian clay colored dust. But I may also be focusing on the ground because of the open sewer system that runs down the sides of every street. I think I'm more endanger of falling into a gaping hole here than getting malaria! Walking down the street last night was like playing Russian Roulette, between the lack of street lights and the need to watch traffic, the odds of falling in a pit was pretty high - not a pretty thought. But I made it home ok and slept safely in my bright blue mosquito net until 6 am this morning when I was promptly awoken by mother nature's personal alarm clock... roosters. Just one more thing that I'm sure I won't even notice soon enough.

Unexpected Adventure

With 4 and a half months supply of toiletries, medicine, and clothing somehow shoved into one pack and haphazardly strapped to me I'm finally off to Ghana!...... or am I?

When I awoke early Thursday morning I never thought I'd be spending Friday night in London, but alas here I am. So here's the story... due to horrible weather in London my flight was six hours delayed, causing me to miss my connecting flight to Accra. As you can imagine, there's only one flight from London to Ghana a day so I'm arriving one day later than planned, and subsequently staying in London for the night. The good news is the airline is paying for everything! My hotel room, all my meals, even my ride to and from the airport, who knew delays could be so wonderful?

Unfortunately, I am missing my first day of orientation in Ghana, but I'm trying to at least enjoy myself in London for the time being. There's not much I can do considering I'm less than a mile away from Heathrow International Airport, not to mention the hilarious wardrobe predicament I'm in. As I mentioned before, I took packing light to a new level and brought barely any clothing with me, and what I did bring is meant for a Sub-Saharan climate. So you can imagine my dismay as I stepped into the snow covered streets in flip flops and a hoodie. It was more funny than sad really, but I do wish I was able to explore London for the brief 20 hours I'm here.

Instead I've been hiding under the covers trying to stay warm and enjoying cup after cup of English Breakfast tea, I'm convinced it tastes better here. And now here I am, at 6 am London time (I haven't yet adjusted to the time difference) starting what will be my blog for the next 4 and a half months. As a warning to all those reading this, I don't know how often I will be able to update this blog, and I'm not sure how interesting it will be. But I'm going to try to have some fun with it so all those devoted readers out

there (mom and dad) can at least get a little entertainment!

Until next time....

Jenny