I’m now in Cambridge seeing a friend whom I consider an aunt/second mother. Cambridge is my happy place; I feel uncharacteristically relaxed here. On the plane from Reykjavik to Heathrow, I was trying to figure our how many times I’ve visited. I estimated ten. Kinda crazy to think that this is my eleventh.
And now for a overly detailed report about what I’ve been doing and how things have been going.
November 26–27
- I did the responsible thing and informed the flight attendant that I have a seizure disorder. She was super nice about it. In an amazing Icelandic accent, she said, “Please do not concern yourself. We have many of those in Iceland.” I wasn’t totally sure what she meant, but it was strangely comforting.
- I didn’t have a seizure on the plane! Victory! I also slept for two hours tops. Whoops.
- I ate skyr in the Reykjavik airport while waiting for my connection. I wanted a world-famous Icelandic hot dog, but for whatever reason, they aren’t sold at 6:30 a.m. Weird.
- I managed to allow the UK immigration officer to handle my passport, reminding myself that I had no choice if I wanted to enter the country. I think this is called “exposure therapy.” I hate it.
- I took the tube to King’s Cross, took the train to Cambridge, and then met the friend I’m staying with to say hello before meeting a childhood friend and his family for a quick visit.
- I immediately began eating many of my favourite UK things, which include mediocre conveyor-belt sushi from a chain restaurant. My husband doesn’t understand why I’m so obsessed with this sushi, so since I know you’re reading this, A, let me sum it up for you using two words: predictability and novelty. Yes, it tasted exactly the same as it did the last time I was here, and yes, the conveyor belt gimmick again succeeded in making me consume significantly more than I should have.
- I was incredibly tired last night but went to bed all like, “Tomorrow I’m going to take advantage of my one full day in Cambridge and do EVERYTHING.”
Today
- I woke up at 1 p.m. This impeded my ability to carry out point 7 of the previous list.
- I sat around in a sleepy daze for a little while, suddenly realized that I was incredibly hungry, and ate. A lot.
- I had a lovely afternoon in the historic city centre.
- I had a fantastic exchange with a cashier at Marks and Spencer, who noticed my accent, asked if I’m American, and, after I told him I’m Canadian, asked if I know Drake (the conversation was much lengthier; if you want the non-paraphrased version, I’d be more than happy to provide it).
- I just finished eating Marks and Spencer moussaka, another of my favourite UK things. (Yeah, yeah.)
- I’m resisting the urge to go to bed. Since I’ve been awake for less than nine hours, it seems a little premature, plus I want to spend as much quality time with my friend as possible. The triple whammy of jet lag, Topamax fatigue, and the aftermath of a partial complex seizure I had last night are, however, really hitting me hard. Pouty face.
Tomorrow I’ll leave Cambridge (sniff) and head to London (yay!).
KG out.
