bonjour from london!

preface: i decided to decline the queen's offer to stay in her castle's west quarter, and do the hostel thing instead...sorry liz. the problem is, before i left for london i never got around to clipping my toenails. so i've spent the last couple of days in this crowded hostel trying to figure out how i'm going to take care of this without repulsing everyone. a fellow traveler (his name is "ty" but he's not "thai") told me that someone at a hostel in japan was complaining about a guy in the bunk above him who kept dangling his feet over the rail and clipping his nails into the bed. i decided to go outside and do it by a bush. take that, bush.

actual posting: ooooooooohweeeeee after spending the first day walking around in the rain, and the second day walking around in the overcast, today was finally sunny!!!!!!!!! i even walked around in my thong.

last night was aimless walking around picadilly circus, and realizing how international my contempt for the club scene is. don't get it twisted...just because they call it the "disco" doesn't mean your night's going to be filled with rollerskates and hotpants (which is my ideal). prepare yourself for jam-packed bars with ooncha-ooncha-ooncha-ooncha music, as well as a whole lot of hey ya and 1 2 step (remember those songs?)

today was much more awesome...or should i say aussie-um???? i chilled with a bunch of australians and frenchies, stacked up on baguettes, cheese, and wine and had a proper picnic on the hill.

i must admit, i feel myself selling out to the game. everybody here pronounces their rrrr's so softly, i've caught myself doing it to. it doesn't really come out as a british accent though, and actually it probably sounds more chinese than anything. so maybe i'm not selling out. yeah, that's right! i'm taking it back to the roots--correction--back to the loots!!

anyhow (see? i never said anyhow before..), there was a point after i booked my trip that i realized, hey! i'm hella about to visit my colonizer! after a moment of feeling like i wasn't keeping it real with my hong kong brethren, i decided that maybe it's not just me, but rather an all-encompassing cycle of the oppressed thirsting to sip of the teet that once held it in an iron fist. what is it though, for real? was there something subconsciously implanted into my mind to make me want to come to england so bad all of a sudden?

yeah, i'm getting sleepy. more on this later.