Brigitte is in B'ham - and this is her blog... Truth be told, I never expected myself to ever start a blog, never fancied myself that kind of girl... whatever that kind of girl is. And now, here I am, scribbling away at this electronic travel journal for those of you back at home, waaaay across that great big pond. I don't even know where to begin...
It was over three weeks ago now that I found myself sitting alone at the bar in Pearson airport, discreetly crying as I poured over a little package put together for me by my best friend, wondering what the heck I was doing getting on a plane with a one-way ticket to a city where I knew no one, in a country that wasn't mine. It's been a long three weeks - but a long three weeks that have flown by. I have had my good days and my bad days, had my ups and downs. And although I frequently pause for brief moments of disbelief at my being here, I am settling in. I found a flat in the first week, where I have been for over two weeks now. I live on Thimblemill Road, in a house with great flat-mates. Lesson about myself: I am not a good vagabond unless I have a place to hang my hat... and that isn't really a vagabond, then, is it?
I suppose I should include in this little journal the reasons behind my temporary (but indefinite) move to Birmingham - or rather, to the UK. Reason number one (aka the superficial one): teaching. As many of you know, I recently fiinished teacher's college. I needed a job, and the UK likes to recruit us teachers from Canada as they are in dire need (for reasons which I may touch on another time...). Apparently I was not needed in Toronto, so here I am. Experience is a necessary thing... so why not get some here. Reason number two (and honest answer): un 'tit adventure.... or, travel. I thought if I was ever going to do some traveling alone, I might as well do it now... time's a tickin'. Travel is great, and if teaching allows me to do that from here, than great. I might as well take advantage. Reason number three (the real McCoy), has to do with my dad. My father came and lived and worked in England when he was 25... for some reason - whatever it may be - I have always wanted to do the same thing. Perhaps it is an attempt to get closer to my father, an attempt to get to know him better by experiencing something similar to what he experienced, an attempt to connect to something... While I acknowledge the extreme cheesiness of the whole thing, I am only being honest (and how easy that is when I don't have to face those to whom I am "talking"... ha). I am also aware, in all of this, that I may be chasing something I may never find... I may be attempting to fill a void that cannot be filled - as the physical presence of one person once gone cannot be replaced. I thought of this at some point prior to my departure, and breifly worried that I was making a mistake, fearful that I would be disappointed if I didn't feel that gap - or that void - was going to be filled. But a good friend of mine reminded me that some people go on living without chasing anything at all... and so even if I don't find that thing that set me off, I know that it will be a trip well worth taking for the experience in itself... and I will likely find something worthwhile. and so the journey begins...
more later on mushy peas, curry sauce and bacon fries.
