Lost in Translation...in Reading

I spent a good deal of my time in Reading and not in London. I must say, with the exception of the rude and intolerable Pakistani bus driver, the people in Reading were a breath of fresh air. Granted, most of the people hanging around during the day were in their twilight years since Reading is a commuter city, with the chunk of the people commuting into evil London for work. It was funny. During the day, loads of pensioners and empty bars and restaurants. It was truly a bit surreal. At one point, I felt like there were definitely more stores and shops than there were people. We went into a pub – what was clearly the busiest pub on the waterfront – and there were 2 other people in there. In the evening! A far cry from the sweaty underarm crowds and throngs of London.

But everyone was super polite. Every single person got off the bus and thanked the bus driver. The rare young person got up to give up their seats. There was no loud, annoying passenger or aggravating teenagers. Of course, the rude Pakistani driver tainted the idyllic paradise that was Reading. I got on the bus and quickly realized it did not have the bus stop monitor which usually signals what the next stop would be. Not being from Reading, and on a solo adventure, I had no clue where I was going and simply asked this gem of a driver to stop when he got to Stop X. Oh but this was too hard…he could not do that and made a grand production of it. The nice lady who got on the bus acknowledged his universal stupidity and kindly offered to tell me when I was approaching my stop. The only profanity on the bus at that point came from me as I had to let him know what I thought of him. Nothing too caustic, I promise. Lol

Still…Reading. It’s no London!!

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Today was not the Day

Y'all better hope and pray my car gets sorted soon, or this blog will become a daily rant about public transportation.

Oh
My
God
!!!!

It's a nightmare. This afternoon I sat in a taxi that was old, clammy and frowsy smelling. Add the frowsy smelling driver and the frowsy smelling backseat passengers and it was a frowsy experience. Then this driver decided that I was well positioned to listen to him rant about the local drug trade. The trouble was, he needed some mouthwash. I turned my head to the open window and said a silent prayer.

Then tonight, I got the craziest maxi driver ever. Besides wooing me with a fried chicken dinner date (the privilege!!!), he was just totally outlandish. He kept cursing people who did not want to take his maxi, even after I indicated to him that perhaps the people were not ready to go home or not going where he was going. He stopped for one lady and just as she was about to open the door, he drove off, after realising she was "too fat for the small seat" and "she would put [him] in expense when she mash up [his] maxi seat". The poor lady looked so confused as he sped off in a gust of diesel smoke. Then he stopped for a man and again, just as he was about to open the door, he sped off a second time. This time, he said the man was crazy and he did not want "mad people in [his] maxi" cause the man would "probably shoot up the maxi".

It would all be amusing in a very demented way if I were not so tired and annoyed.

As a side note, I ran into a woman I used to work with - one of these old, miserable and farse types who have nothing good to say about anyone or anything. I ground my teeth as she stopped me for a chat and I caught her sizing me up from head to toe, her old, nasty mouth itching to say something - probably about "how fat I got" cause that is always her opening line. I was ready...and waiting. I was waiting with annoyed anticipation to reply with either:

1. Waaay. Who do that weave for you? It's jacked up.
2. Lady, white eyeliner is so 1960. Where you even get that to buy?
3. And it certainly does not match that horrible gold eyeshadow.
4. You wanna go to Pennywise and maybe find a good concealer for the black circles under your eyes?
5. And while you're there, some nail polish remover for the chipped and nashy nail polish.
6. Your husband still with you with you looking like this? He has real belly!

(or all of the above...that was the kinda mood I was in)

Yes. I was waiting. Patiently. But she probably saw the glint in my eye and she said NOTHING. Today was not the day, lady. It was not the day!!

Then, just one more thing. So I am already annoyed that Rituals opens at 6.30am, which is way too late for the early o'clock South-North commuter. I cannot fight the system and I really needed a coffee to stave off sure homicidal urges this morning, so I got to POS at 6am and actually waited for Rituals to open at 6.30. I endured the ole talk from random weird men and the smell of Frederick Street...just for this coffee!

At 6.29.59, I pushed open the door and announced that I was ready to get my caffeine fix. The woman looked at me and said "We not open yet." I asked her if they don't open at 6.30. Her response:

"We not open until we get the doughnuts".

My response:

"I just want coffee."

Her: Well, we have to wait for the doughnuts.
Me (in my mind): What the a... doughnuts have to do with you making me a cup of coffee??

What kinda rubbish this girl was telling me - tired, angry and caffeine deprived? Doughnuts had nothing to do with me. Just grab a cup and start whirring the lil machine and make me a coffee. I had to wait a next 5-8 minutes for her to realise - the doughnuts late! Aye...today was not the day, girl.

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Penis on the Train and other Funny Weekend Moments

Nicki Minaj rocks this orange wig. Hot!
Photo credit: Thirsty Roots

Something is wrong with me. Why was I awake at 8.00am on a Sunday, especially considering that I have not had a full night's sleep in a few days, that I was up at the crack of dawn yesterday to keep my salon appointment, and that I was out late last night? I really do not appreciate you, internal alarm!

So as I mentioned at the end of the last post, my hair seems to be totally f...d. It was just falling out and was completely jacked. It caused some minor to major depression and I just decided my hairdresser in London would have to double as therapist. I was perfectly prepared to go pixie short for the cause, but she told me not to do anything that drastic just yet. So while it looks a bit better, it's still pretty crap. I'm not happy.

Needless to say, I joined the hordes of black women in London yesterday who wear fake hair as I pulled out my awesome wig for a night out. Funny, as I walked through the tube station, a gust of wind caught it and I was praying to all the gods under the moon and sun that this thing did not blow off. lol. I pictured the wig blowing off my head, landing on the tracks just before the train gets there, causing a disruption on the Northern line, thus causing hundreds of London commuters to be plotting to kill me, all because I am a bit vain. Well, I held on to said wig to avert this scenario.

Then I had a good chuckle when I went into Sainsbury's after dinner cause I had a craving for sausages again. You know how I love me some UK sausages. And behold, there were sausage bargains. And 25p bread. A student's wet dream!! The 25p bread caused a bit of a scene in the bread aisle as I, poor, hungry, unemployed student, thought - wow...25p bread. I must have this. On the other hand, employed Londoner, was aghast that I would consider buying bargain bread and made such a big deal about the bread. Really, buddy? But then he makes a big deal about a lot of things beyond my comprehension. Nothing was wrong with the bread except that its expiration date is Aug 2, by which time the bread would be consumed anyway. But noooo...it was a bread argument between me and the Sainsbury's girl, trying to explain that 25p bread was perfectly good bread, and employed Londoner on high horse, who felt I should get 89p bread. lol. Needless to say, the 25p bread is in my fridge and I had 2 rolls for breakfast and they were lovely. I have no problem in buying 89p bread, dammit, but why let a bargain pass me by?

And no Saturday night would be complete without a night cap and some penis. On the train, no less. Look away if you are a prude. Look away now. Faces hidden to protect the innocent.

Hen night, obviously. She and her tool caused quite a stir! lol.

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The "Me" Day That Wasn't

The official mascot for my blog - Pablo!

Firstly, special thanks to EVERYONE who visited me and commented on my blog on my SITS Day. I cannot tell you how overwhelmed I was by your kind words about my little old blog. I have been really trying to visit everyone who commented/followed but it is a work in progress.If you have not seen me on your blog yet, have no fear - I will get there. Eventually. But thank you! I feel very blessed.

The plan yesterday was to have a quiet day with myself. I woke up late, took a shower, had grilled cheese on an onion bagel with some sorrel, and then looked up the trains I would need to get to Leicester Square to meet this overwhelming craving I have been having for Haagen Dazs. I had already packed my book, which was a freebie cause I am being asked to review it and freeness is and always will be a huge plus in poor student world.

I certainly, based on what I have read so far, recommend it

However, in the middle of my bagel, I got a text and then somehow invited this guy on my ice cream run. So we met and I ordered my Chocolate Waffle with extra whipped cream, cause yes, Valerie, I am bad ass! lol.

I think I had an orgasm after the first bite. God, I am so easy! I did struggle to eat it all though. Got some help.

We talked, and laughed and then the sun came out (eerie).

The plan after that was to just go to Tesco, make my groceries, head home, have dinner and get back to my book. My cousin was going to be out and I would have the house to myself. That did not happen either. We ended walking through Covent Garden, I tortured myself by trying on jewellry I simply cannot afford but which looked ravishing on me nonetheless, and taking in the quirky sights and sounds of the market.

The plan was further decapitated when after said Tesco stop, somehow I found myself dressing for a party and heading out the door, never coming back in until 4.30am*. The book is sitting on the bed, laughing at me.

Am I complaining? Hardly. I had a good time. Dude had a good time and was a good sport cause it was  mostly Caribbean music (of course) and Caribbean people, and he was very at ease in the midst of the bacchanal. I can have my me time today. The house is empty again and the book is next to me. And I probably should not answer any text messages today.

*Of course, I had to face my greatest nightmare which is having to take the night bus. I think the world knows I HATE the night bus, but luckily I had company. Still, it did not make it any less revolting. The young woman 2 seats ahead of me - if you cannot hold your liquor honey, don't drink. She was a total mess and sick too. She proceeded to "light" up my life and the bus, when she threw up in a bag. She then placed said bag on her lap, at which point it started to leak...all over her hands, her dress...and the floor! Her friends then proceeded to double bag the mess, but not before spilling some more of her puke all over the floor. I almost had to do a long jump over the mess to get off the bus. I kept saying to myself - I miss my car...I miss my car...I miss my car. 

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Transportation Diva - That's Me

Maxi taxis - not fun!

Trinidad has a chronic traffic problem. When my daily life was more heels than flip flops, aka, when I was employed and part of the corporate rat race, I would be forced to wake up at ungodly hours (3.30am!) to get ready to hit the highway and avoid the morning frustration known as bumper to bumper traffic. If you were to ask me what I valued most, after the requisite family and friends answer, it would have been my car. This can explain the reason the roads are just oversubscribed by private motorists cause I suspect many people feel the same way. Why? Public transportation sucks.

I am not a fan of public transportation. In London, it is better than many places but still, I leave early to avoid what I call the armpit crush of London, i.e. having to stand on a crammed train with someone's armpit against my face, or if I am lucky to have gotten a seat, having to sit with someone's ass against my face.

Public transportation on my little rock though - abysmal. For most of the mini-vacation, I have had use of a car to go on my adventures, but I have had the moments of madness where I had to brave the streets by hand, i.e. sticking my hand out to flag down a taxi or maxi.

Last Sunday, I decided to exercise my rights as a poor student and refuse to fork out the ghastly $345 fare from Piarco to home. Instead I chose to maxi/taxi it all the way home - a ride that involved 2 taxis and 2 maxis. First, it was the maxi ride from Arouca with the driver who probably never heard of Colgate, flossing or mouth wash and who clearly did not realise that his breath was so heinous that my Japanese titanium glasses frames almost melted everytime he opened his mouth. This dude kept talking and talking and my eyes kept watering. Then there was the taxi ride from Curepe to San Fernando where this swami looking character or as he called himself, a spiritual counsellor, decided he would pass out flyers promoting his services as a counsellor to the soul. Nothing wrong with that. What I did not appreciate was him putting his hand in my handbag as he tried to push this flyer into my bag, and maybe help himself to some money (?). Needless to say, I did not use swami like language to make my point that he needed to not be all up in mih so and so bag!

Friday was the worst as I decided I would take the public bus home and everytime I asked the bus terminal attendant for an ETA on my bus, he responded "5 minutes babes...5 minutes". It was the longest 5 minutes of my life and after an hour I still saw no bus and was forced to pocket my ticket and walk to the taxi stand. That was another drama cause by this time I am fuming and brother man decides to take a back road, pick up some woman with bundles that could not fit in the truck thus displacing me from my comfy seat in the back and asking me to sit next to Mr Not-so-Delicious in the front. Then the smells from the man in the maxi from San Fernando to home.

Yesterday was another winner as I got a taxi driver who clearly thinks he is God's gift to women - greasy face, body odour and all. Just a side note: Trinidad is a damn hot place and being a taxi driver is bound to be a heated experience. Please...invest in a tried and tested roll on, and some mouthwash for good measure. And also wash your clothes after one wash - dried sweat smells, okay?

Anyway, he decides to make some phone calls, despite the fact that it is illegal to drive and talk on the phone, especially when going at least 40km over the speed limit. The first call went something like this:

Wha yuh cook?...Nutten?...I doh wanna buy food. I fed up eat Chinee food and roti. I passin' just now. Make sure it have food there when I pass.

What a charmer. But then he makes another call, to another woman. Trust me when I say the fact that he even had ONE woman was shocking to me, but two???

Babes, I brokes. Buy a phone card for mih nah. A Digi....What? Yuh cyah do that for your man? $10? That cyah call nobody! Buy it and text mih the number, right? .... Yeah, yuh know I love yuh.

Knight in shining armour! And all this time his eyes are sometimes on the road and sometimes on the chest of the cute lady in pink in the front passenger seat. I also had to ensure I had the exact fare cause he kept picking his nose and I did not want to hand him a $10 bill and have him finger my change with that hand, so I dug around desperately praying I had the $7 I needed to escape that fate.

Private transportation also has its own challenges as I learnt last night when we were locked out of the car and had to call the troops and enlist the assistance of strange men to assist. However, being the germophobe, hygiene anal diva that I am, it beats any challenge public transportation can ever hope to offer. If hating the smells and sounds of public transportation make me some kind of diva, then I am a rabid, ball busting diva!

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Working It Out

Ah yes. Another day. It was sunny the past couple days but lucky me, I woke up and headed to class amidst grey and rain. So a friend asked me if I had been getting any exercise since being here since as most of my early entries on this blog were all about fitness and gym adventures and my daily efforts at the sweat shop to stall frumpiness and keep my awesome ass in shape. Well, while I do not have a gym membership here, this was my answer to her.

My day, when I have a 9am class, goes something like this:

• 5.15 - wake up...hustle a 'fresh. (take a quick shower)
• 6.30 - leave the house to catch the 6.34 bus. It is a 7-8 min walk. lol. It becomes a near sprint.
• 6.36 - see the 6.34 bus driving by...I cuss the driver even though it is my fault
• 6.37 - run my ass like Usain to catch the bus behind it...thank him kindly for waiting
• 6.45:57 - run like ass from the bus stop to the train station to catch the 6.47 train...breathless. I usually miss this train by the way, so my running is usually for nothing, so I have lately, just stopped running
• 6.56 - run like ass up the stairs and up the ramp and down the stairs again, to catch my second train
• 7.09 - speed walk up the ramp then speed walk maybe another 1500m , then run like ass either down the escalator or the stairs, and then run like ass the last 200m to catch the last train for the morning
• 7.34 - get to my university town...go to Tesco for water or whatever
• 7.36 - see the bus turning the corner...run like ass to catch it or risk standing in the cold for a next 15 mins
• 7.something - walk to class

Exercise. What's that? lol. It may not be as effective as my 2 hour workouts at the gym but they keep the  hips from spreading to massive proportions and that ramp walk at Waterloo really works the glutes. lol.



God..this is nasty! Stop!

In other travel news and in keeping with my V-Day trend until Monday, I am all for love and people being in love and wanting to show their partner they love them and all, but do all that at home. I was unfortunate enough to have to sit behind a most nauseating Middle Eastern couple who kissed all the way to our final destination. Maybe they were not Muslim, but if they were, they were showing the world they could PDA with the rest of us. It was full blown lovin'. Not just little love bites, but amateur smacking - *smack smack spit smack*. It was really disgusting. What was worse was the fact that the train was full and I had nowhere else to go, so I sat there and suffered in silence. I mean, I always believe that when people behave in this manner in public it has to be one of a few things

1. As Trinis would say, they "never-see-come-see" or "never-expect" which basically means, it's like they never had a man or a woman and never expected to have one, so when they get one, the world has to know. Buddy, the chick ain't all that...keep that on the down-low.

2. It's not YOUR man or woman. It's someone's wife or husband you be smackin' on. I remember taking a taxi as a 16 yr old and in my school uniform and a couple in the backseat with me could not be bothered that a young, impressionable person, in her school uniform no less was next to them - they kissed it up the entire way. My innocence - tarnished forever especially as I later found out the woman was married...not to Casanova in the car but to another poor sucker.

3. You live with your mama and have nowhere else to take your woman to snog it up. Well, hotels can work too. Not the train. Please.

PDAs are not cool. They can be, if done tastefully, and you may even get an "awwwww" from me, but not when it's a slobbering, greedy, desperate mess. Spare us. Spare me. Please.

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Day Off, Night On

Courtesy Caponata. This was very good, by the way.

Friday was my day off. Yes, we all need a break from time to time and I needed one. I was not able to focus on Thursday and I was staying up late and getting nothing done - a clear sign of saturation. So I went into town. The primary purpose was of course, as mentioned before, to get my beauty stuff from Boots. But I cannot see a clothing or shoe store and just walk past. C'mon. I laughed when I saw the flip flops were on the shelves of some of the shops, as I pulled my jacket closer to my body. Flip flops. Clearly to go to a resort somewhere. I eventually got my eyebrows threaded, raided the Boots beauty aisle, getting my Mudd mask in the process and after what was supposed to be a half hour retail adventure, I got on the bus home 3 hours later.

Friday was also date night. I have these "dates" ever so often and they do a great job in reminding me I am a human first, a robot last. After some toning (Boots' tea tree and witch hazel toner for £1.24 or whatever is really the answer! I tell you, go with the cheap stuff anyday!) and my Mudd mask, and some primping, I headed to dinner. In the end, by the way, I thought I looked pretty damn smashing, but I am biased.

Photo courtesy, Caponata. Great wine selection, as well.

Well, dinner was beyond lovely. We dined at Caponata, which offers a very Sicilian menu. I enjoyed my orders a lot. I am so glad that Sainsbury's 2 for £2.70 pasta meals have not ruined my palate. I'm not one of those people who go out to eat and whip out a camera to take photos of the food so I can post it on online. I have done it, but it's not a usual thing. Again, if someone wanted to pay me to do this (hint hint), I would. But take my word for it - it was pretty awesome. I had the almond crusted lamb which was so well done I almost cried. No ready meal here! And the service was stellar. Did not like the live band downstairs so much - they kinda ruined the ambiencefor those dining upstairs. My one small peeve about the place.

The weather though - junk. And I missed my train so had to take the dreaded night bus and again, almost missed my stop. Finally, when I felt my body giving in to the sleep..I am on the bus. lol.
I am 98% (fingers crossed) finished with this nightmare of an assignment and hopefully I can get some sleep and maybe some fresh air tomorrow. Oh...sorry. Today. It's 5.00 am. Joy.

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London Under Snow, Again

Image courtesy Getty Images via Times LIVE

So it's snowing again, and again, London has been paralysed. This time though, it can snow all bleedin' day as far as I am concerned cause I have no school, no nothing, so I have no reason to go outside. I just snuggled up with a glass of white wine, which should send me straight to dreamland in a few minutes, and I am officially in hibernation for the next two weeks. The weather has created problems for friends trying to make their way home for the holidays though and for this, I am sorry. For me, that was never an issue, cause as the world knows, I am not able to go home, and the depression is very real, but I promise not to dwell on it. I am thinking of  volunteering at a centre over the holidays to remind myself that life is pretty damn awesome.
School is closed for the next couple weeks but we have 2 exams as soon as the break is over so I have stuff to keep me busy and to keep my mind occupied. Not the things I would have anticipated but hey...

I have not been bitten by Rudolph, or elves or whoever or whatever is supposed to bite a person to get them feeling all Christmassy. Between school and this nasty, persistent flu, Christmas has, until now, been the furthest thing from my mind. Now with the snow, I am loathe to change out of my comfy, warm pyjamas to attempt going out into London to do anything. But I have noticed the neighbours putting up trees and strings of lights and Santa hats. One neighbour has a sign up that says

WELCOME SANTA! WE BELIEVE!

I really hope Santa does not disappoint them. He has disappointed me on many a Christmas so my sign should read:

SANTA! BEWARE!

I am not sure how people even contemplate having a social life in these conditions. I am unwilling to even go walk the few hundred metres to the jerk chicken shop to get some jerk pork, far less, stand at a bus stop or train platform to go into London for a good time (been really craving the jerk pork though...I wonder if they deliver?). I am making my good time at home tonight, though if my cousin has his way, we will be at another Caribbean party not too far from here. I guess it all depends on how soon I start going stir crazy in here. I am busily searching for sites where I can watch movies online since Sky really is shit. Looking outside every 5 minutes though, and seeing only white, sure does cure me of any wanderlust.

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Awesome Trini weekend in London

Well, the birthday had the potential to be a real stinker. I was depressed most of the week, and frustrated with an assignment that try as I might, would not let me finish. I had also hoped for some specific plans which also, try as I might, just would not develop nicely. So come Thursday, I was in a horrid mood, crying and wanting my momma. But willpower is a great weapon against idleness, and with a wave of my mascara wand and a couple emails, life was good again.

Friday night, I finally met up with the other Trini students at my school and we headed to the Trinidad and Tobago High Commission in London for a Christmas reception. I love Trinis. Always looking out for the poor ready-meal dependent students. The food was very welcome. The Trini hospitality more so. The High Commissioner was very pleased to have us raid his larder of all the goodies they had prepared for us. For most people, it was the first real meal in weeks. I thought I was the only one eating meals out of a box but nope...noone cooks. Lots of books, but no cooks. Great Trini food, with great Trini friends. Perfect.

Then the birthday. I had a really nice day on Saturday, starting with a mimosa breakfast. I totally LOVE mimosas. I had mentioned it to my cousin earlier in the week and lo and behold, there were mimosas as I waddled downstairs for what was supposed to be a cheese sandwich type of breakfast. Gotta love the cousin. I then got dressed and put all the books aside, incomplete assignment and all, and headed into London to mail off some Christmas cards to the 'rents and the sibling unit and family, including the nephew and spend some proper me time in the city. I have not done a London day since my first week here. So with okay weather, I toddled into Soho to meet a gf for lunch. I felt like having either Trini food, Cuban food or Thai and we ended up having Thai because neither of the other two were available. I man-gaped for the entire time I was there as well. Always good gaping in Soho. There was also a pretty decent market near my train station  before I got to London Bridge, where I saw a nice portrait I may probably get the cousin for Christmas.

Though I did not have a lot of time because my cousin sent me a text demanding I return home to have birthday drinks, we still managed to grab a couple cocktails and do a sprint through National Gallery, which is undoubtedly one of my favourite places in this wonderful city. I had really wanted to see the Christmas tree in Trafalgar Square but sadly, my fellow students had burnt it to the ground earlier in the week. Needless to say, images of Churchill's statue being defaced and a young girl swinging from the Union Jack were alarming to me and I am not even British. You can be angry and yes, they have a right to be angry but this is your national heritage you're defacing. But that's just me...

Anyway....

Yes, I dug right in to that bad boy! Yummers!

When I got home...the cuteness. My cousin's kids had gotten me a card, cookies and there was also the sexiest looking chocolate cake ever. Mojitos and more champagne and good friends. My dad had called first thing that morning, and my mum called later that evening, with the sibling unit sending an email from work. And the two words that are music to any student's ears on their birthday - wire transfer! lol

The evening was spent with Trini friends at a Caribbean, though more Trini than anything else, party in London, which went into the wee hours, meaning, 1) I had a fantastic time and 2) I had to take a night bus to get home and of course, as with all my late night bus adventures, I missed my stop. I was sober. I was awake. I still missed my stop. I blame not knowing the area, not having chance to check the little grid on the bus shelter to see just where my stop was in relation to the journey because I was pelting down the street at 5 in the morning to catch said bus, I blame the cackling women who overpowered "Erica*" and I did not hear said stop being announced.

* Erica - the name I have given to the female voice used by London public transport. I love her especially when she says "Welcome to the Southern service to Sandwich". lol. Oh, I have also disvovered some new towns with stupid names - Hook, and also Ham. Really???

Anyway, after maybe about, oh, 10 stops I realised I had indeed passed my stop, but it was not an issue cause I knew where the bus was going and I decided to chill out and then get off at the stop nearest to my house and get my regular night bus, the one I was supposed to get at the stop I missed. The point of all this waffling on is I had to sit in this cold bus and then on the cold corner waiting for said bus, in nothing but one coat over a not so warm and snuggly outfit (one built more for the hot temps of a nightclub than the cold streets of London) and now I have a post-birthday cold that just came out of nowhere. This morning I woke up with a sore throat. This evening, without warning, I have a full blown cold. Funny. But I was a happy and sexy icicle. I needed it. I really needed the weekend and needed the birthday to not suck. I was really having a horrific week and to top it off with a sad, desperate birthday would have killed my spirit. And no offence to the Brits and Europeans, but I really really really needed to be around Trinis. The homesickness at this time of year is insane so to hear the sing-song lilt from every mouth, and experience the vibes that only a Trini can create, and bask in the warmth. thoughtfulness and good nature of Trini friends - I was a happy bunny. Where there is life, there is hope. Where there is a Trini, there is the potential for fabulousity, folks. Never forget it!

In any event, I have taken some meds for this stinker of a cold, and I am going to take a nap so I can wake up a bit more cognisant of my environment, to start assignment #100. School closes for the holidays this week. I should be hopping and skipping but I have to study during those 2 weeks. But at least I can sleep in late every morning. Small blessings.

p.s. Can I just say as well, that Bank underground station is the f...g worst!? It sure beats back the one at Elephant and Castle. My goodness. But Vauxhall is another stinker. I should do an entire entry on the underground stations. Waterloo and London Bridge are among the better ones, along with Westminster. But that's another entry isn't it? Mind the Gap, peeps.

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London Paralysed Again

Photo courtesy BBC -
Rail line between London and Brighton under snow.

I had decided yesterday after freezing my booty off on the platform waiting for my train, that the 9am class today was not worth the trouble and though I don't like missing the 1pm class, I was not going all that way, and through all the trouble of readjusting my journey plans to get a train that actually is running for one class either. Thus I had written off Thursday December 2, 2010 as a home-day. So when I saw the email from school that campus was closed, I felt vindicated. I was also a tad bit alarmed because what if I had decided to put the "S" on my chest and to actually go today? The email came at 7.44am by which time I would have been out in the Tundra already, maybe on my way to campus. I would have been so pissed. But intuition won and the school was spared a torching and I am a bright YELLOW today. The public transportation system has been under serious pressure and God, I can only imagine the chaos today.

It's really cold outside though and I envy noone out there today. I am working on assignments today, though I am more inclined to get back under my blanket and sleep. It's really a challenge to study and be productive when the view from the front door looks like this...

The view from my window is pretty cool, but snow is only beautiful when you're not outside in it.

My main concern now is not the snow and the hundreds and thousands of people stranded somewhere out there, but will this damn snow mess with my salon appointment on Saturday? That's the real crisis! I hope the weather gets better. Dear God, I just want 8 days of okay weather starting on Saturday, so I can get my hair done, get my birthday on and just be a happy bunny. Is that too much to ask? I think it might be, so let's just work on Saturday morning and I can be content with that. I have a great week ahead and great week and great mood has to start with great hair...even if it is under a hat all day.

I am happy I am home to watch the World Cup bid announcement live as well. I am rooting for the Brits on this one. I wonder if all the people out there at the stations are even thinking about it. So sad.

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Winter Fashion Update

So I have created a public transport mood chart since I do not want to harp on the crappy London transportation every day since it is clearly going to be an issue for the rest of the winter. Today had the potential to be a RED alert but I took the bus this evening and it was the first time in living history that I enjoyed the bus ride from the train station to home. I had a seat at the back, near the engine so I was toasty, and I had an Evening Standard with Becks all over it, looking as sexy as ever (he is getting better with age I tell ya). Bliss. So after the horrible morning, where I waited almost an hour for my first train following cancellation after cancellation, and where the day at that point was hot red, it ended on a more subdued orange. The other colours are red, as previously discussed; blue for days when I am just either indifferent or just plain depressed, and yellow for the smurfy, happy days when they get it right. Something to aim for, London transport peeps. I imagine the people who had to sleep on the train to Kent or wherever it was last night, were a boiling red.

Anyway, I manage to surprise myself every time I face the stove. With the chill gripping my bones every evening after school, I decided to make myself another soup this morning before class. And after Sainsbury's not having my pre-cooked chicken breasts last evening, I was left with the task of making a veggie soup instead. I did find some scraps of ham and some mushrooms and I got some potatoes, onions, garlic, scallions, pumpkin, cauliflower, carrots and broccoli. What a wondrous concoction this was. I just had some with some crusty bread and it was pretty damn awesome. Add some orange juice and rum and it was a really warm experience.

And in winter fashion news, I am secretly stalking my neighbour's dog. Not having a dog of my own and missing having one, I listen out for him when he goes out into the backyard to chase foxes. He is a little thing, a Westie, but he is quite fierce in his own mind. Anyway, this weekend, in the deep chill, I saw my lover run out in the cutest little red coat and I actually found a spitting image of what he looked like.

Cute. I really love the doggie winter fashion. I love seeing the dogs in their coats and love that their owners love them enough to keep them nice and warm in this awful weather. And they are really stylin'. I mean, these dogs look better than some people!!

And it's not just the little dogs either. Brutus gets cold too.

It's so fun and sweet and can really put a smile on the face of someone stuck on a train platform for what seems like zonks.

And good luck to England tomorrow in Zurich. It's funny that the Brits are depending on a Trini (FIFA Vice President, Jack Warner - key to the 3 CONCACAF votes) to win their 2018 World Cup bid. Can I then demand perks tomorrow?

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Mind The Gap

So last night, it seems as though everyone was up waiting for snow. I was up idling on social media and so happened to catch the many cries for snow from weird people in London. Don't believe me?

I called it the Great Snow Watch 2010. At a little after midnight, I put on the floodlights and sure enough, objects looking like specks of dust were floating past my window. Twenty minutes after that, the specks were gone and the snow watch was over?

Lie. I woke up to snowfall and cars covered in this white shit. Oh, was my first snow experience supposed to be romantic? I assure you - IT WAS NOT. Snow is a helluva nasty thing - it turns to brown slush, it floats down on you and melts, making you a soggy, cold mess. It's cold. Snow is not fun.

And yes...all the silly people who were wishing for it last night and so upset that places like Kent were under pressure while London was so pathetic for not having snow - I hope all of you were stranded at the train stations like I was because the "pathetic London snow" caused delays of up to 2 hours. The train to Sandwich lived up to its name today. I was clearly the burger pattie in a British sandwich on the train to Sandwich which I had to wait over 45 minutes for, while the little notice board ticker said "Due in 2 mins" for 45 minutes.

From the perspective of someone coming from the developing world aka Third World, into a developed country aka First World country, this was abysmal. It cannot be safe to have half of London packed like sardines onto these trains. I mean, people were hanging on for dear life out of doors while the conductors pleaded for them to move down into the train so the doors could close. And then when you get to your stop, noone wants to get off to let you off because there are another million people on the platform waiting to take that spot. It was a nightmare. And it was not even a blizzard. Okay, it got a bit heavier as the day wore on but I have seen images on tv worse than this. London worse than POS, man. A little bit of rain and we flood. A little bit of snow and the whole city shut down. Really?

And I ask again, how is this city going to host the Olympics in 2012 when it can hardly transport the people in the city now? Add hundreds of thousands of tourists and this has to be a recipe for disaster. I would love for someone to tell me how this is going to work.

This was the worst day of my life and I have at least 3 more months of this? Oh God. Winter wonderland, my ass. I foresee a few days of missing school. No lie.

But the good news is, I have a flask to top up with rum to keep the soul and bones warm during the nightmare called winter! And I just got some really sexy potatoes from the Afro Caribbean shop (run by Pakistanis) to make a vegetable and ham soup tomorrow morning. Cheers!

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How I Have Managed to Survive Grad School

My status on Facebook today read:

If UK food chains like Sainsbury's and Marks and Sparks did not have ready-to-go meals, I think I would be dead.

I told you on Saturday that I went to the store and got some veggies and seasonings, including a great piece of pumpkin and some mushrooms. I managed to find time to finish seasoning the cuts of chicken and shove it all in a pan and into the oven. That's easy. As for the rest...no time allotted. I ended up hitting my neighbourhood Sainsbury's and getting some 2-minute meals to once again, fill the pasta drawer. I also bought stuff like bread and ham for breakfast-on-the-run.
 

The bread never made it into the real world this morning. In my morning "dash for the bus that comes whenever it damn well feels like coming" moment, the most effort I could put into breakfast was shoving a packet of Nescafe mocha mix into my bag. Thank God for Marks and Spencer's at Waterloo, and their cheese sandwiches. I also grabbed a bottle of water and I was reassured that I would not pass out from hunger at school.
 
I came home tonight and had an awesome salad with my chicken and some pasta - the salad being out of a ready-to-go box from Sainsbury's as was the pasta. I have 2 sets of research to do tonight, one for assessment and cooking is not really an option. So you see, despite my best efforts to "turn a pot", I always fall back on M&S, and Sainsbury's and now with the new Tesco's having opened near my final bus stop, well...I am surely the perfect choice for ready meals spokesperson/spokesblogger. Anyone out there willing to pay me to review these meals? 
 
This is probably why I have been unable to effect the same kind of weight loss I managed during my undergrad because with the exception of fast food, ready meals in supermarkets in Jamaica were nasty and few. It was either eat the nasty Grace ready meals, face the microwave and the ramen noodles cupboard or face the stove. In my first semester, I had every flavour of ramen noodles ever made. My mother did not recognise me when I got home that Christmas and her mission was to fatten me up, which she did. Here, I just go to frickin' Sainsbury's and have a decent meal, and worse if they are on special. They are in fact very good and I am really picky and finicky about food so that is saying plenty. I will though make some time for my pumpkin and mushrooms this week before they go bad. The life of a struggling student!!!
 
And speaking of my cheese sandwich, the Brits have some really odd names for towns here. It has now become a pasttime of mine to listen out for new place names while waiting for trains, and have a laugh. Today I got on a train heading to Sandwich. I kid you not...the place is called SANDWICH. Can you imagine sending a letter to someone living in Sandwich, United Kingdom? Hilarious. I also sometimes get on a train heading to Battle. That one is worse...
 
Oh where are you going?
I'm off to Battle.
 
Gotta love the Brits. Gotta love 'em.

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If You Like It Then You Shoulda Put A Ring On It

The thing is I don't like it.

Well, friends another assignment is behind me. When the file was uploaded electronically on Sunday evening, there was relief. When the hard copy hit the bottom of the assignments box 10 minutes ago, there was frickin' euphoria. I almost did a cartwheel. Two down, a million to go. I am unwillingly married to the books, the library, school - I shoulda put a ring on it!!!

The weather is shit today. I had read the forecast on Saturday to determine how early I needed to roll off my warm bed this morning to make sure thisn assignment was in on time. Gale force winds it said, and heavy rain. They weren't kidding. They need to give the Trini weathermen some coaching because the weather report was spot on. My umbrella - the one I tote when I suspect the rain will be more than a light drizzle, and not the cheap £4 shit from Primark - could barely take the pressure from the hurricane-esque winds. Weather for the mattress, NOT the library.

So though I still had 3 projects to work on this weekend, I managed to leave the house on Saturday evening to go on a pub crawl with a friend. Nice drinks, nice convo, nice time, not so nice weather. The mist hanging over the main street after 2am when I exited the final pub was enough to almost send me back to the bar. But I was too tired. So tired that I fell asleep on the bus, something I swore never to do, and sure enough...lol...when I next opened my eyes, I was in some odd part of the world, having missed my stop. It took me another couple stops to realise that yes, I was not going to magically be transported back to my stop if I did not get off this bus immediately. It was no fun standing in the same mist I was dreading a million stops before to get the bus back. Funnily enough, it was the same bus and the driver looked at me and smiled. I smiled back. Don't drink and commute, peeps.

I also felt very peckish yesterday. Not for the normal crap like cake or ice cream, though some Haagie would have been nice, but for tomatoes.

I just woke up craving a nice tomato. So after I uploaded said assignment, I chucked on some clothes and walked to the corner store. A note about my friendly neighbourhood veggie stop. It's called the Afro-Caribbean store, but it's managed by Pakistanis. I find that amusing every single time I see the sign. Every time. So I get there and my heart was lifted because there were the sexiest, reddest, most beautiful and orgasm-inducing tomatoes I had ever seen. I quickly selected 3 of the hottest, and some mushrooms and some other stuff, and I was set. My Sunday dinner was complete. Sorry I did not take photos but my camera is shit. But in the end it was a lovely veggie rice, with baked chicken in a red onion and mushroom sauce, and a marvellous fresh mushroom and tomato side, stir fried ever so lightly in some olive oil to keep my tomatoes nice and fresh. The magic. I felt human once more.

Until I opened up assignment #2 for the weekend. What a nuisance.

Anyway, it's been real. Hoping this week is less stressful with less time spent in the library than last week. Listening to some Movado, among others on the MP3 player. So he's not Trini, he does not have a "first thing I wanna see on Monday morning" kinda face, and it's not soca but it's great and it's one love. Take me home to the islands, Movado. Love you all. Coffee time!!!

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Coffee is my friend

The photo below is a print screen I did of a document I typed while typing this entry on the train after class. My seatmate has roving eyes. I have no mercy. I smiled to myself when she looked again and quickly turned away realizing she was busted. I amuse myself.

 

 

 

The temps have dropped drastically. It was summer weather – albeit freak weather for this time of year – on Friday and Sunday. Now it is not even safe to run outside for a quick smoke (if I smoked) without a heavy jacket. The little sweaters are not cutting it anymore. Have to bust out the big guns now. My troubles as a woman who was born and bred in 35 degree Celsius heat have begun.

 

Doing my blog post from the train for a few reasons:

• Tired of looking at frumpy, sour faced Londoners and immigrants – all wretched looking after doing the hamster run, and from the cold weather 
• My seatmates are not easy on the eyes. It saves me from having to accidentally catch a glimpse of them. This is why I hate these forward facing seats.
• Don’t want to waste too much of my precious after-school home time on blogging. The assignment is king! And my energy levels are low so need to maximize whatever time I have with at least 45% sleep reserves on doing actual work.

The cracks are starting to show among the class. People have started skipping classes, the coffee machine is over-subscribed, ciggies are the rage, frowns are ubiquitous, tears are real.

 

One thing about being older and back in school is that I have been through enough crap to laugh about it all. Man stress, work/boss stress, money stress. This essay is like cotton candy. Well, not quite but I think I am coping pretty well. It’s just the sleep deprivation and that has resultant signs and symptoms, namely total annoyance and low tolerance with stupid people, or just with people. I am not a happy person when I am exhausted. Really. Take note.

 

I was at the library at 7.35 this morning and by the time I got to my 1pm class, I was ready to run amok from fatigue. It was as though the lecturer read my mind when she announced a break after just an hour and 20 mins (it’s a 4 hour punishment). The coffee was like a shot of adrenalin straight into my veins. I think I want to marry a coffee magnate or worst case scenario, a barista. We may be poor, but at least there will be coffee.

 

Thinking of overnighting at the library on Friday night just to make my Friday night/Saturday morning deadline for this essay so I can remember what a social life is like this weekend. Willing to make that small sacrifice. . I snickered when the lecturer, after winning me over with the early coffee break then decided to drop the nuclear bomb aka HER essay assignment on us. The joy that filled my heart was unbearable.

 

Typing this on the train made the time fly and I am almost home. Not willing to get some cyber germs from someone else’s wireless connection so will copy and paste before I hit the books.

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Sleep Deprivation, Cultural Distance and Observational Analysis

I got 3 hours sleep last night, trying to do this now infamous essay, and there are two occasions when one should really not try to talk to me

1. When I am hungry
2. When I am sleep deprived

I was really not in the mood for crap today. Frickin' bus took zonks to get to the bus stop this morning and I wondered if the bus driver in his nice warm bus, with his coat and hat thought about me standing there in the biting 6am cold waiting for his late ass. Or whether he thought him being late and thus causing me to miss my train would be fun.

The day went downhill after that.

But after a crap day at school, which included going to a session that was absolutely pointless and which was the reason I was up in the dead of morning on one of the 2 days I have late classes, I was tired. I thus decided I had had enough of the train and watching frumpy, tight lipped white people, so I decided to take the bus with loud, often strangely unique black people.

What an error of judgement. You would think after the bus adventure this morning, I would have learnt my lesson but I was too tired to do all the walking for this train and the bus was the solution to laziness. I also was significantly grossed out by the dude this morning who sneezed a nasty, grimy, phlegm-coated sounding sneeze into his left hand and then grabbed the handlebar with the germy hand. I had had enough.

But the bus comes with its own issues. It takes eons to get to your destination for one and then it's always a crap shoot for a seat. Then the buses in this area get the weirdest people. The Jamaican lady next to me was having a highly animated phone call about her dislike for England. As she wrapped up her call she turns to me...lucky me.

Woman: You ah like Hinglan'? (translation: do you like England?"
Me: (to self: whyyyyyyyy is this woman talking to me??) It's okay.
Woman: Me nah like it. People inna dis country too nasty. Dem too nasty, man. And dem cyah dress.

This elicited a snicker from the rotund woman next to me and a smile from the Jamaican herself as she believed she had found a sisterhood. I agree - some of the people here are beyond frickin' nasty. I cringe every time I have to sit on the train or the bus for fear that I am sitting on dried piss or vomit. As for the fashion, it's often entertaining, let's just put it like that. But I was not prepared to have a bonding session with this mad woman either.

Then after almost an hour on this rahtid bus, it burned my socks when this driver announced that we would have to get off the bus and wait for the bus behind us. In the cold. WTF! I watched as the poor pregnant lady with her pull along with the wheel that constantly fell off, shivered in the 4.55 pm breeze as this wicked man put us off his bus.

And another thing - I am Trini and love my Trini-ness and by way of a good education and self-esteem, my accent is one of those that can easily be recognised and understood. I think if you're coming into another country where your thick accent may not be the most understood, oh gosh....learn to say a couple phrases in an intelligible fashion. So for example, if you are...oh let's say...a bus driver and you have to pelt people off your bus, learn to say it in the Queen's English nah man. I heard the man speaking and at first I did not know what the hell he was saying as he said it in the thickest, duttiest Jamaican accent I had ever heard in my life. This is saying a lot as I have lived in Jamaica myself. I had to ask the lady next to me what the man said. The same goes to you Mr Indian storeman and Mr Pakistani fruit man. Please...practise some phrases. Help a sista. lol.

I have 2 last observations today

1. I passed a place called Zeki's Chicken, and the sign on the window said ALL DAY BREAKFAST. How is this even possible??

2. Is there some kinda law in London that says children must be in a stroller until they marry? I cannot understand why these gigantic children, i.e. children who can run, let alone walk, are still being pushed by tired mothers and fathers in a stroller. The children are ginormous! Can't they walk? What's the deal here?

Woo...needed to get this all off my chest. England play some little foolish nation tonight so that means the house will be filled with loud men, distracting me from my essay. The library started its 24 hour service on Sunday so I guess it will be an even earlier morning for me tomorrow to make up for the noise and revelry or sorrow as the case may be, tonight.

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Cultural Distance: A Brief Analysis

It's 3am and my nap turned into a full on snooze. I have my highlighter in hand, texts on the bed and my hot new reading lamp on full glare as I try to compile info for an essay on the implications of cultural distance in marketing.

I can however give you a full on report of the implications of cultural distance on my everyday life. Firstly, the implications of poor oral and general hygiene. I am not saying that Trinis are the cleanest people on earth but I think my encounters with smelly people in London far outnumber my daily interactions with them at home. I sat in class today and kept second guessing whether I had put on deodorant this morning because there was a pervading smell of rank underarm in the room. And while I understand that 2 showers a day may not be essential for some, as the temps are so low here most of the time (I take my 2 showers), one shower is a must. Also, toothbrushes aren't retro, and even if you're doing the hamster run, please carry a bottle of mouthwash with you. Spare the rest of us.

Then there is the corpse syndrome on the trains. Trinis are naturally gregarious, in your face, overly friendly and often farse* people. It is a real shock to the system to sit on a train where eye contact is presumably outlawed and where saying good morning or smiling with a stranger makes you look like a psychopath, sex offender or terrorist. I have followed the adage, when in Rome, do like the Romans with this one because London is not ready for my natural Trini persuasion to be outgoing and fun. I stick my nose in a textbook and scowl at others just like the rest of the surly lot. It does not augur well for the rest of the world after that. It almost puts you off for the rest of the day.

And I always recounted my stories of Trini men approaching me in the streets of Port of Spain, declaring their love for some part of my anatomy or wanting to marry me or something. Their pickup lines were always original and hilarious, e.g. "Miss, I want to ride you like Seabiscuit". That was a classic one. Man, don't you miss the water when the well runs dry. Again, corpse syndrome. With the exception of the psychos in the bar on Sunday, the men here are Johnny Conservative and it then becomes necessary for the woman to be like a raging cougar, or at least to make the first move...risking stares or being labelled, as before, a psycho, sex offender or terrorist. lol. Today I played visual cat and mouse with this HAWT dude on the train. I saw him first on the bus and lo and behold when I got on the train after purchasing my hot new lamp, there he was again. It was a sign. I caught him staring at me, then he caught me staring at him but that was it until he got off at his stop. I was actually more concerned with keeping my seat on the packed train, especially with my brand new lamp being such a burden, than getting up to go say something. At least he made the 25 minute ride entertaining.

 I really missed home today. Not a heart wrenching, beat up the pillow crying kinda homesickness, but a yearning for the things and the people that make me smile.

Okay, that was my abridged report on cultural distance. Please give me an A+.

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The London Hamster Sprint

The unthinkable has happened.

I have found myself running for buses and trains. I have found myself cursing the fat woman or the slow moving tantie in front of me, strolling through the underground corridors as if she has no f...g place to go, as I am trying to pelt my ass and my bookbag to the next available train for fear of missing my overground train and having to wait another 25-30 minutes, thus risking being late for class or just being late for home. I am one of those tight-arsed, tight-lipped Brits, peeps. My God.

I was actually strolling to my train this evening as I was just frickin' tired and then somehow got caught up in the hamster sprint with a train sitting at the stop and quite forgetting myself, I jumped on it, getting pushed and squeezed in the process. It was only after the doors had closed that I cursed to myself - this ain't even my so and so train. lol. Had to jump off at the next stop, take the train back to my original stop and guess what? Wait half hour for the next one. lol. I can laugh now but I was not laughing then.

And another thing - it really knots my socks when you're sitting on the train, trying to de-frazzle, with your schoolbooks etc on the seat next to you and some pervy asshole asks to sit next to you when there are empty seats ALL AROUND...in any of the EIGHT coaches. But no...I must move my bag and my books and inconvenience myself so you can breathe my air. Take it from me, you're not going to win any brownie points by doing that. I will move my bag if the train is filling up, but gimme a lil chance nah. Gosh man.

I am finally home and showered and lotioned up. If anyone wants to make my prayer list for the next year, you would buy me this..SERIOUSLY.


Nothing else works. I use Palmer's Cocoa Butter...not the real butter but the watery shit in the bottle. I use Buffy. I use Keri. But only Lay It on Thick keeps my skin from becoming like an alligator's. And from itching in this dry, cold air. Oh please please...someone. Get to your nearest Bath and Body Works and send me a tube. I am on perhaps my last squeeze. lol.

Other than that, I have work, group assignments (postgrad group assignments are as annoying as undergrad group assignments and maybe worse cause patience in my case, decreases with age) and during the week, no life. I feel like I am home, at work - the only difference being, I get paid to work and have no life. lol. I am the one paying others to offer me inconvenience on a silver platter. It is hilarious. But no...it's a lot of work, and the end seems miles and miles away because there are a million chapters to read before next week, but I know there is a light at the end of the tunnel. Somewhere. Maybe it's the train I am running for. Maybe. Anyway, I live for the weekend. Trying to plan drinks after Eff Dem Friday - classes til 5pm. And anything involving a laugh and maybe a cute boy.

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Rain, Traffic and Taxi - Lethal Combo

When it's raining, there is traffic and you have to take public transportation, you know it's going to be a bad day.

Today was my first day in a long time not sitting behind the wheel of a car. Having sold my car, my last 2 days at work will mean I have to bus it or taxi it. This morning was horrendous. Just horrendous!

First I got a taxi from my town to the city. It would usually take approximately 18-22 minutes. It took 8. This man had zero consideration for my safety. I don't care if he wants to die, but being so close to something I have been looking forward to for so long, I did not want to end it now. Eight minutes later I crossed myself and said never again. Additionally, why do I always get a taxi where at least one person smells like old gym socks? He is on a roll with the prizes this morning, because the driver was REAL frowsy smelling. When I first sat in the car, I smelled baby powder from the woman in the front seat, Curve from Indian fella next to me, and add my Heat by Beyonce and things were shaping up nicely in the aroma department. Then the driver entered the car and it all went downhill from there. I don't think he has washed that t-shirt in years, but wow...he was really frowsy. If he has a wife, shame on her for sending her man out smelling like a bag of old clothes.

Of course there is also always some ass who has ZERO consideration for the fact that I took some time to try to make my must-visit-salon hair neat and presentable. This prize goes to the clown (the Curve fella) on my right who rolled the window down and the 4am breeze threatened to whip my hair into a frenzy but while I was probably prepared to crash due to the Mach 10 driving, I was not willing to have f...d up hair, so I had a word with him and the window went up. Priorities.

So now I needed to get a taxi to Port of Spain and before I could close the car door, the North-South vultures all swooped down on me and my $15. I saw one guy, sniffed him out, scoped out his taxi and then had a stern word with him.

Me: Driver, I just want to tell you right now, I cannot handle any speeding eh.
Driver: Nah. Yuh safe
Me: I safe? Doh be mamaguying me for my $15 you know. If I feel like you're going too fast, I will not be paying eh.
Driver: Nah darling, yuh good. Just tap me on my shoulder if you feel I going too fast for you.
Me: Because I have plenty to live for. I have a lil nephew I want to see get married and ting.
Driver: Oh gosh darling, why you hadda talk so?
Me: Because the man I just came up with clearly did not appreciate my life
Driver: Come come. You safe with me.

Needless to say, when I sat down in the very clean, fresh smelling taxi, and heard the gospel music and the sermon on the radio, I said, this man will not lie to me. And he had not. He handled himself and his taxi nicely along the wet roads, in the traffic. He did do some shoulder hogging but that is expected but my life was not in any danger, at least not from him. Maybe from the guy snoring like a garbage truck crusher next to me, but not from high speed drama. When we got to POS, I thanked him for his consideration and he told me come again. lol.

Little does he know that if I have to sell my body to ensure I have a car when I come back home to avoid ever having to do this again, I will.

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