London Called. It wants its screaming children and inappropriately breastfeeding mothers back.

Well the title of my blog pretty much sums up the 7 hour and 50 minute flight to London, so I'll just skip the gory details. So I'm blogging from my flat in London. I wish I could say that I was out, drinking a pint on my 20th birthday and already creating an all around life of debauchery, but instead two of my flatmates and I are gathered around our small kitchen table (which happens to be in the living room) devouring the somewhat brief episode of free wireless by sitting around doing "work" on our laptops and telling of our scary gynecological episodes. We just finished grocery shopping and stored away all our goods in our respective cabinets. For my part, I did my best to buy the cheapest foods, one of them being a canned Irish stew. Interesting. I don't want to get into the boring details of my trip so far because basically the only places I have gone have been from Heathrow to our neighborhood in London, a pizza place, and a small grocery store. But all in all, there really doesn't seem to be that much difference between London and a typical U.S. city. Students studying abroad and tourists are so common here that people don't even really notice what sort of accent you have and certainly don't care enough to ask random strangers where they are from. Not much seems to be different. Even the television is the same. You can't imagine how disappointed my flatmate, Mackenzie, and I were when we turned on the telly to get a little British progamming and ended up with Ricki Lake and Friends. Although finally we watched some authentic British reporting on BBC News...all about John McCain's VP pick. Tomorrow we have a free day which will be spent exploring the tube and the bus systems. Perhaps new and exciting differences will present themselves then. But for now, London is just the U.S. with an accent.