That’s your boyfriend

Yesterday, on my way to celebrate the New Year (yes, I know I made fun of the Ethiopians yesterday… but at least we’re ahead and not behind) I encountered horrible rush hour traffic on the Tube. Dressed in my good clothing (aka not jeans and a tee shirt) I found myself, rather unfortunately, wedged under an Indian man’s armpit. Happy New Year to me. When I arrived at the Kantor’s house I was extremely frazzled from the journey but in true British fashion they offered me a cup of tea and I settled right in and forgot the horrible trip over. The family couldn’t have been more welcoming and fun. We had dinner at their friend’s house with about thirty other people. The dinner was rather strange- it was all cold foods but the company was a ton of fun. They were all so interested to hear about my studies in London and if I found adapting to life here challenging. But what they really wanted to talk about was my “New York accent”… I didn’t realize I had a strong one. Anyways, it was nice to have a place to go for the holidays.

Today we went to a really cool museum, the Sir John Soane House. It was one man’s collection that he later donated to the state. The house was crammed with shit. Things were hanging on the walls, the floors and covering every possible surface. It was honestly very overwhelming. Being the true scholar that I am, my friends and I played the “that’s your boyfriend game” while touring all of his collections. Essentially the game is played as followed: find a ridiculous sculpture, drawing, or artifact and then, for example, quietly whisper to a friend… hey, see that urn with the naked man skinning a goat… “THAT’S YOUR BOYFRIEND!”. Needless to say, I was entertained for hours.