comfortable and strange at the same time

Can't believe it but I'm in London. England.

I feel comfortable and strange at the same time. I keep having sudden realizations that no, I'm not home. In fact, I am thousands of miles away from home. An ocean away in this old, old place. Despite every street dripping with antiquity, I walk them with an air of familiarity. Perhaps this could just be a posh, older section of Toronto... But no, wait, that building has been around since before my country was a 'country'. Oh my.

I think this weird level of comfort has to do with the fact that I know that everything and everywhere is English. As in, the language. So I don't have to worry too much about getting lost because I can always ask for directions. But at the same time I am such a foreigner. I gawk at everything. I say things like 'bin' and 'lift' and giggle to myself. I die repeatedly at the cuteness at little British accents from little British children. The streets and buildings fill up my heart with a romanticism that is perhaps completely lost on the locals. My wonderful hostess Sam has so far put up with my enthusiasm and giddiness and has been a saint, taking me around to revel in all of these amazing places. Tomorrow I venture out on my own for the first time. I am excited and nervous and so so so grateful to be here.

Everything is amazing. I am here. The realization hits me like a double-decker bus.