I was taking a walk around the area near my flat; I figure if I’m going to live here for the next year, I might as well get to know the place a bit. I’m cruising along, getting a feel for the lay of the streets, when suddenly PIGEON! Damn thing flew down in front of me and nailed me in the stomach. I suppose it was inevitable, there are pigeons everywhere. Waiting at Heathrow Central bus station, there were pigeons wandering around inside the terminal, cocky as anything. (Cocky. It’s a bird pun.) They’ve got ‘em all over in Bristol too, with the charming addition of the occasional seagull.
Obviously I made it to Bristol. At the moment, my circadian rhythms are pretty much kicking my ass. For anyone who’s never experienced true jetlag, it’s basically a mindscrew for your body. You don’t know what’s what or when, and it sucks. A lot. Can’t sleep at night, because my system insists it’s only 4 in the afternoon, can’t wake up in the mornings because it feels like 2 am. I need a reset/synchronize button in a bad way.
There’s a ton I could write about right now, descriptions of the flat and Bristol and all the like, but that can wait. The flat won’t change significantly in the next week or three, and I don’t want to make a monster post. I’ll probably try to get a few first impressions recorded in the next day or two, while I still remember them, but that’s going to have to wait until I’m thinking a bit more clearly. For now, I think I may go check out the International Office at the Uni. Maybe they’ll have helpful advice for a poor, lost Yank.
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