Let me tell you. I got pretty darn lucky when I came over here. At first I was a bit wary because no one was in the flat and I though I would spend the next six months in complete silence. (Think a nun in an abbey. Or that funny joke where the monk can only say two words every year.
First year he tells the guy in charge: Bad food.
Second year he says: Hard beds.
Third year he says: Too cold.
Fourth year he says: I quit!
To which the guy in charge says “I’m not surprised. All you’ve done is complain since you got here.”
Ha! Anyways, this might be the longest parenthetical statement ever. Moving on!) So, it was quite silent. But then the girls got here, and I found out that they’re really nice and extremely interesting. I have a flat mate from:
Germany/England
Brazil
Bulgaria
Brunei
Hong Kong
Nigeria
Monterrey
Romania(? Not quite sure about her.)
Wahw! I almost can’t believe it. So now I know some interesting facts. For instance, lions don’t randomly walk around the cities of Nigeria. Ah well. (I wasn’t the one who asked that, if you were wondering. Though really, who knows?) One of my flat mates speaks seven different languages. One of them gave me Turkish Delights. (I didn’t even have to betray anyone to get them!) One of them doesn’t feel cold. One of them has homemade honey that her grandmother made. At least three of them are psychology majors, which could be good if I get an inferiority complex since I’m starting to feel boring. The only thing they all have in common is that they are all really kind and inclusive. Score!
Later today we’re going to Colchester to explore and have Portuguese food. What is Portuguese food like? I have no idea. But I’m excited. Hopefully I’ll be able to wander around the castle, and maybe find a “secret garden” that sounds tremendously intriguing. I find it especially interesting since it’s a secret, but has signs explaining how to get there. Maybe the secret is more sinister: It’s a secret man-eating-plants-of-the-world garden, but they couldn’t put in the extra words because then the secret would be ruined. I’ll keep you posted, unless my arms get bitten off. Wish me luck!
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I think the secret gardens are where the flesh eating gorillas live.
ReplyDeleteThat's what I was thinking! I'd stay away from it if I were you.
ReplyDeleteBut my adventurous spirit cannot be swayed by something as trivial as a horde of flesh eating gorillas! Just kidding- I actually didn't go to the garden because those comments scared me so much. I bet you feel guilty now.
ReplyDeleteGuilty for saving your life!?!?! I think NOT!
ReplyDeleteThat's the thanks we get!
ReplyDeleteI do feel a little guilty knowing that some poor flesh eating gorilla is going to bed hungry tonight....
ReplyDeleteOh I see where your true sympathies lie. That's ok, I understand! One should always be concerned for one's own kind primarily.
ReplyDeleteWell, I am a monkey's uncle....
ReplyDeleteJim, You are not a monkey's uncle. To Jenika you are "uncle monkey."
ReplyDeleteJen, you mean it's not a nunnery? I'm not sure I approve of your time in England if you are not at a nunnery.
I guess that would explain the dance parties and such.
Hey, nunneries might host dance parties too! True word about the uncle monkey bit though.
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