Watch out for the falling leaves.

My roomate has to be the funniest person on earth. Several weeks ago I wrote about my roomate asking me if I wash my ears when I shower after telling him that I had a cold and that it was making my throat and ears hurt. Here's another funny annecdote.

I have already stated numerous times how much I hate the weather in this island. Well, thanks to the horrible weather again, I have a bit of a cold. It's not as bad as the previous one but it's still annoying to have to blow my nose. So I was talking to my roomate about my cold and suddenly my eyes got a bit itchy and watery.

Me: Crap, not only do I have to blow my nose but now my eyes are feeling funny.
Roomate: You have to be careful when you're outisde because it's autum and the leaves are falling and they could hurt your eyes.

This time I nearly fell over and went PLOP like Condorito.

What a night!

Living in Hackney didn't seem so bad as people said it would be until last night. Before arriving in London, several people told me Hackney is one of the most dangerous places in London along with Brixton, Peckham, etc. Hackney is an inner-city borough and it's got a bad reputation. There are lots of Vietnamese stores and Turkish restaurants and sometimes I don't hear English spoken on the streets. The place doesn't look so bad, I must say. Granted, it's not Beverly Hills, but it doesn't have that ghetto look like the Bronx in NY or La Victoria in Lima. Here are some pictures of Hackney.

I met with my friend Colin in West End for a beer and then I had to meet another friend in the east part of London at 11pm. Speaking of beer, you should try Strongbow if you haven't. It's got cider and it's sweet. After two pints of Strongbow, I needed to sober up a little before meeting my other friend. A can of coke, a walk down the street plus a long ride on the subway did the trick. My friend and I were smoking Shisha when suddenly the police came into the place and asked everyone to leave. The place we were in was not supposed to be open after 11pm and they were not supposed to have people smoke upstairs because, according to the police, it was not dafe to smoke there (like, there were no emergency or fire exits and the ceiling was decorated with Indian fabric which could easily get on fire).

By now it was 12:30am and I took the bus back home. There were quite some people on the bus when these teenagers got on it and started being really loud. Then a different teenager got on the bus with some kind of fireworks in his hand, which he lit up and threw at the other teenagers. The fireworks, of course, went off inside the bus, which scared everyone to death. The smoke made everyone open the windows but then most people decided to leave the bus even though those punks were still playing with fireworks outside. For some reason, the doors would not close and so the bus would not move. I was too scared to step off the bus and wait for another bus outside, so me and 2 other guys just stayed inside the bus until the next bus came along. If that wasn't enough adrenaline for the night, when I got off the bus, some drunken white dude was walking along the streets kicking the walls and the wastebaskets and looking for a fight. You could just see the dude was thirsty for blood. Thankfully he just walked past me. Scary!

Getting kicked out of a Shisha bar by the police, surviving fireworks going off on a double-decker bus and dealing with white drunken violent guys. And I thought my neighborhood was safe. What a rough awakening! Welcome to Hackney!

See you in heaven.

Random people make my day and there are plenty of random, weird, insane people in this city. I was in the tube this morning and this old man (I reckon he was maybe 68 or so) started making the sign of the cross in front of each passanger on the train. He made his way from the very front of the carriage to the very back of it and he did the sign of the cross in front of each person. The he stood next to me and, because I'm a good young man, I asked him if he would like to sit down.

Me: Sir, would you like to sit down?

(Old man does not answer so I speak louder this time)

Me: Sir, would you like to sit down?

(Still no answer. Even louder this time)

Me: Sir, would you like to sit down or not?

(Old man looks at me and grins widely)

Old man: I work for God.

Me: Really? That's cool.

Old man: Yes it is. (Train stops and doors open). See you in heaven! (Man jumps off the train)

Why do all these weird things have to happen to me? I must be cursed...

Wash your ears.

I'm finally getting rid of this nasty cold I had for about a week due to the change of weather here in the UK. I still have phlegm in my chest and it makes me cough every now and then, but that's about it.

I was talking to my roomate (the epileptic guy that benefits from the charity) and I was telling him about how much it hurt to swallow saliva or water and how it was also making my ears hurt(you know, sometimes your ears hurt when you have a bad throat). His response was simply hillarious. The converstation went like this:

Me: My throat really hurts when I swallow something, be it water, saliva or food, and it also makes my ears hurt at the same time.

Roomate: What, do you not wash your ears when you shower?

I almost fell over and went PLOP like Condorito.

Excuse me, I ordered lemonade.

It's simply funny how things are just different in other countries. Not only do I have to bag my groceries at the supermarket (poor little me) but I also have to drink juice out of a carton at a restaurant instead of real fruit juice. This came as a complete shock when I ordered cold lemonade at a pub several weeks ago.

Me: I'll have a glass of cold lemonade, please.
Bartender: Ok.

(A glass of sparkling water arrives)

Me: Excuse me, I ordered lemonade.
Bartender: That's what I got you.
Me: No, this looks like sparkling water.
Bartender: (Looking at me funny) It is lemonade. Taste it.

(Shock -- fake lemonade out of a bottle)

Me: (Still in shock) It is lemonade.

(Bartender giggles and walks away. Not funny, dude.)

Oh, the things you take for granted...

Eyed Park.

The Brits (specially those from the lower-class in London) tend to drop their h when speaking English. They may speak like the Queen with a proper accent, but it kills me when some of them simply do not say their h in words like have, handy, behave, etc.

There's a very big and gorgeous park called Hyde Park (check out the "More London pics and friends" album on facebook). I took Sylvia, one of the service users with learning disabilities, to Hyde Park to go for a stroll, a cup of coffee and to visit Princess Diana's Memorial Fountain. Sylvia kept saying "Eyed Park" instead of "Hyde Park". She kept dropping the h until I had it. We were walking so I stopped in the middle of the walkway and asked her to repeat after me.

Me: "It's not Eyed, it's Hyde" (I aspirated my H a bit harder for her to hear it)
Sylvia: "Eyed"
Me: "No. Listen to me. (I took a deep breath and made my H a bit harder and longer) Hyde"
Sylvia: "Eyed"
Me: "Take your time, Sylvia. Listen carefully, 'Hyde'"
Sylvia: (Taking a deep breath) "H-H-H-Hyde"
Me: Yes!
Sylvia: "Hyde Park".
Me: "Yes, you got it! Now say, 'We are at Hyde Park'"
Sylvia: "We are at Hyde Park!"

Don't you love that feeling of accomplishment and fulfillment? That feeling of pride that is born in your chest and radiates to every cell of your being? That deep breath and the following relieving sigh that makes you fill like you're the best? That is exactly what I felt when I accomplished my goal. But it was short-lived. 10 seconds later, Sylvia says, pointing at the sky:

"Look! An elicopter!"

So much for my little English pronunciation session.