"Autumn Leaves"

Last night, Matthew and I picnicked in the park, and it was lovely. We sat on the grass at Jesus Green and watched people ride by and watched this guy play frisbee with himself for about half an hour (good thrower, bad catcher...the cartwheels were quite good, though). And we were simply surrounded by nature, gorgeous nature (and this guy who desperately needed a boomarang). It seems that suddenly, within just the past week, fall has arrived. The trees are turning beautiful colors and the air is crisp. And unfortunately, I'm used to this weather being around Christmas, so I'm a little time-warped.

And then we fed the ducks.

And then this afternoon we took a walk along the river Cam to this little town called Grantchester, just south of Cambridge, and had "cream tea" (which is actually tea, plus scones with clotted cream and jam) in the middle of this orchard where apparently Virginia Woolf and other famous people used to go all the time. But the whole trip was gorgeous! Just classic British countryside, overcast skies and everything. It was wonderful. Like something straight out of a Jane Austen novel. It makes me want to go home and practice my penmanship.

If you have some time and are in the "fall" mood like me, check out this video on the left...

Which brings us to tonight's Word...

So, we've officially been here a month. Some things are getting a lot easier: I no longer feel as though I will be trampled and left for dead in the middle of the grocery store. I've even been complimented with questions for directions (which, unfortunately, I can only give about half the time). But at the same time, I am still very much in a different country. I've recently learned that it has been a very long time since I've ridden a bike and that I have a tremendous fear of narrow roads with lots of traffic. And it's getting harder to sit at home and do nothing while Matthew enters his exciting new world at the University, full of regular schedules and new acquaintances. There are good days when I find several new jobs for which I can apply, but there are also bad days when my most exciting task is checking every hour to see if the laundry has dried. But this recent milestone of our adventure (if you can call a month a milestone) has brought to my attention that this is a very temporary time of my life. If a month still "feels like yesterday," how will I feel in 6? or 36? I don't really know how to explain it, but there's some sort of comfort in the fact that I have a very limited amount of time to enjoy this country, this city, this lifestlye. It calms my fears of not being able to find a tube of Pilsbury biscuits and not knowing exactly how to mail a letter. These are minor adjustments to a much bigger life experience. And I'm glad I get to stumble my way through the cobblestoned streets of Cambridge whose names change every 20 feet. I'm glad people laugh in my face when I don't understand that a "CV" is just some fancy Brit lingo for a common resume. I'm glad I have to jump through hoops just to watch basic American television. Hey. I'm a foreigner. And that's tonight's Word.

The Apartment

Hello friends and family, we're alive! After fifteen hours and three forms of traveling, we finally arrived in Cambridge and laid eyes on the smallest flat imaginable. Such is our new home. But over the past few weeks, we feel we have settled in quite nicely. The flat is about 300 sq. ft. and fully furnished. Our bright green front door opens on the side of the building to a small hall dividing the bathroom; to the immediate left is the shower, and to the right is everything else, housed under the stairs to the flat above. (I'm surprised Matthew doesn't have to duck.) Through the "hall" and to the right is the living/front room. We really enjoy the light we receive from the front window that looks out onto the street and the large mirror above the mantel; keeps things looking bigger. But the gas fire is nice. If you turn left from the hall, you will be in our kitchen, fully stocked with most everything we need. The fridge is tiny, meaning we're constantly buying milk, but everything works well. The kitchen also houses our washing machine, which lives under the sink. This is why the sink is sitting on top of the counter and also why I need a step-stool to do the dishes. From the kitchen, you move into the bedroom, which has a wardrobe and closet full of shelves. And through the french doors lies the most glorious aspect of the property, the garden. And with the weather being as nice as it's been, it really is lovely. There's a paved area with table and chairs surrounded by lots of green and a shed in the back, without which we would have no place for our luggage or to lock up our newly purchased bicycles. And that's our flat. We bump into each other a lot, but it's nice to be able to talk to each other from any room. We'll see how much the rooms shrink as the days move on...