I hardly ever hang around the financial area of Lima, a part of town that is usually filled with executives, bankers, business people and the like hustling about and lots of headquarters of national banks and big companies. Huge and imposing skyscrapers are not my kind of thing and neither is the huge expressway with vehicles rushing past 24 hours a day. Nevertheless, I have been going to this part of town to teach an English class at Banco Continental, where I happen to do my banking. As expected, the building is overpowering humongous and one could get completely lost if it weren't for the security guards' assistance. After walking down several hallways for about five minutes I have to turn in my ID, get a visitor badge and wait for the lift which takes a while given that there are hordes of people coming up and down all the time. There are four spacious lifts on each of the twenty-one floors but it still takes a while to get to where I need to go. Needless to say, the building is absolutely gorgeous inside. It is one of those places that makes you feel important. And teaching the employees is quite fun.

One of my other classes is at a company that supervises insurance companies. It's a much smaller place that looks like an old colonial house. There's a black gate outside and a guard always asks who I am and what I'm there for but he won't let me in. He goes inside the building, or house, and comes back 2 minutes later to open the gate for me. As soon as he does that, he asks to check my backpack and he also asks if I'm carrying a laptop. Once he's inspected my bag, I have to walk through a metal detector and get frisked by another guard. Once then I am allowed to go in but I have to turn my mobile off and give it to yet another guard who will put it away in a locker. I am then escorted to the conference room where I teach my class. It seriously feels like going to a prison to visit someone and it became even creepier when my student told me they have security cameras all over the place, including the conference room!!!!

It is quite interesting to see the different socio-economic classes here in Lima. This language school I work for mainly caters to professionals in really big and important companies and I can tell the students are not your typical working-class Peruvians. All of my students live in nice areas of town, they are independent and they drive nice cars. Not your average Peruvian. It just blows my mind to see the differences in social status, but there is something that simply annoys me and this is not in regards to my own students but to people in general.

That feeling of superiority people have. I was at the supermarket yesterday and this lady, who was clearly an upper-class lady, was acting all important towards the check-out girl. The tone of her voice and her whole demeanor was nothing but pedantic. Clearly she thought she was the best next thing and suddenly, she got out an American passport and ordered the check-out girl -- yes, she didn't ask, she ordered -- to put her passport number on the receipt for whatever reason. She walked off without so much as a thank-you and I had to laugh at the whole thing. I got this awkward yeah-this-happens-sometimes smile from the check-out person. Now a lot of this people have not always been upper class. Lots of them have worked hard to be where they are which is good, but why do they have to change? Even if they were born upper-class, why do they have to have this imposing I-am-so-bloody-important attitude and treat others like they are meant to serve them?

Oh, the mentality!

A child.
An innocent being.
A cheerful and full-of-energy little person.
A funny little thing.
A child.

A raucous being.
A spoiled and tantrum-throwing little person.
An unnerving little thing.
A bloody child.

The shrieking of a more-than-necessary-loud little girl is piercing my ears. No, it doesn't stop. The maid does her best to calm her down. To no avail. The little girl wants to watch a Mickey Mouse DVD. Clearly she has got something against Winnie the Sh!t and Friends. The maid will not play the DVD fast enough. The little princess throws one of those tantrums that make you wonder if she has gone nuts. Dad tells her to calm down and so does mum. The black rat comes on the telly and quietness has been restored. A few moments later she is thirsty so she asks for some orange juice. Her juice comes and daddy asks her what she is supposed to say to the maid. She keeps silent. Daddy asks one more time. Cat got your tongue? Daddy will not give up. The little child needs to learn to say thank you. Sometimes she does but most of the time she doesn't. Mummy asks her daughter to say thank you. Ten minutes later, a tiny voice says "thank you". Daddy is in class but daddy's little girl does not understand so she keeps interrupting.

A baby on the phone. A crying baby on the phone. Mum is holding the baby and the phone at the same time as if my ears didn't get enough noise. I'm trying to listen to what the lady is saying but the baby's cries drown her voice out entirely. Would it not make more sense to put the baby down for a bit and then come on the phone? Not to this lady who can't even spell her own name. On the bus back home there is a woman sitting behind me. She has, of course, a boy. The boy is what you may call an annoying chatterbox. You want to smash it into pieces to see if it will stop. Not only is he talking his head off but also out of his arse. Why is the name of that bank BCP? What happens to animals when they die? What's that building there? Geez, boy, have you not been taught to keep your mouth shut?

My cousin has a 3-year-old and they happen to be home when I arrive. She's playing with her toys and with her little cousin and then they start to fight. So it's time to say good-night. Both babies cry and I feel like my brain is going to die.

If you have children, I want you to know I have a lot of respect for you. It must take a lot of love and patience to raise one or more. It is time and energy-consuming. It is a job. It is an art. I truly look up to those who can undertake the task. I know I couldn't do it.

The void within me

As I sat at the table this morning sipping a cup of tea, my student's 3-year-old daughter was watching telly when suddenly she says, "Mummy, I need the toilet!". It was her first time asking to use the toilet. Off to use the toilet she went with mummy. A foul fragrance filled the room and a few moments later both mother and daughter proudly came back to the dining room. Dad was also quite proud that her little princess had used the loo for the first time. "She is growing so fast", said Mum. "She certainly is", I said. As the cute toddler retires to the sitting room to watch over-the-top happy Mickey Mouse, Mum's face becomes somewhat grim and without looking at me or her husband, she says, "I feel like I'm losing a leg".

"How do you mean?", I replied in astonishment and confusion. "I was speaking to Mariella over the weekend and she was telling me that when her daughters went to Europe she felt like she was losing a limb. And that's sort of how I feel right now. My baby is growing and it makes me feel like I'm losing one of my limbs." Being the cheeky lad that I am, I said, "Well, in 5 year's time she will be in elementary school, in 10 year's time she'll be in secondary school and in 15 year's time she'll have a boyfriend!" Mum and dad both say, "Oh, shut up!" After having a good laugh, mum says, "Oh how I wish I could stop her from growing." "Well", I say, "We can't stop the course of life, can we? As much as we wish we could."

On my way to the supermarket for my daily croissant and Pepsi I thought of my student's wife's words and my own. I feel like I'm losing a limb. That is how I feel as well. I miss my friends in the UK dearly. It feels like, in a way, I have lost a part me. And that part of me has stayed in London. I feel like something is missing inside me. Then my own words came back to me. "We can't stop the course of life". I need to move on. It has simply been so hard. I feel like I have changed so much. I didn't know I could miss a place, that I could miss people so intensely. To the point of feeling empty. I have been reminiscing all the great times I've had with the people who have come into my life. It fills me with joys and tears. At the same time, life goes on. The earth will continue to circle the sun. The birds will keep on singing. I will one day be old.

So I feel like I've lost a limb. And somehow, I have to carry on without it.

Cholo de m....

It is quite customary to hear latinos call each other names which in other cultures may be taken as an insult. A husband may call his wife gordita (fatty), a wife may call his husband negro (black), a mother may call his son chino (Chinese/oriental) or a man can call his mate flaco (skinny). These are all terms of endearment in Hispanic culture, if the right intonation is used of course. I personally do not like being referred to as flaco, zambo, etc. even if it comes from a family member or a close friend with the best intentions at heart. It's just one of my pet peeves.

Now some words which make reference to someone's ethnicity can be used in a very offensive manner. For instance, we have the word cholo which describes someone who has a lot of Inca (native Peruvian) ancestry. A serrano would be someone that comes from the Andean mountains.

On my way to work today, a pizza delivery guy attempted to run the red light, which he didn't manage to do. An upset, if not outraged, pedestrian yelled at him and then turned his attention to a police officer nearby. After pointing out to the policewoman what the motorcyclist had done, he shouted, "Cholo de mierda" (fucking cholo). Now, as a Peruvian, I have Inca ancestry in me, just like that delivery guy and that pedestrian do. So why would a cholo insult another cholo? Why use such word to insult someone's ethnicity which happens to be the same as my own? Sadly, I hear people say things like this all the time. "Deberian mandarte de vuelta a tu tierra" (they should send you back to your hometown), "Serrano bruto" (Stupid Andean man), etc. Some racial remarks can be very hurtful and insulting. But once again, if we as Peruvians have some of that cholo and serrano in us, because in the end we are all mixed and have a bit of everything, why do we have to base our insults on what we are ourselves?

Please feel free to comment.

Sunflowers

There is a small coffee shop my friend Martin and I used to go to for tea. We had made a habit of going there after strolling in Victoria Park or lying on the grass in London Fields. A couple of weeks before I left the UK we were on our way to the coffee shop, this time, however, we were walking along Regent's Canal. We stumbled upon some beautiful sunflowers and we stopped to have a closer look and take some photos. These sunflowers were truly gorgeous. Their leaves were so smooth and yellow, and the central part was a dark vibrant brown. The stem was also quite long and they were on the side of the pavement in front of a wooden fence. As you may already know, the leaves and flower head of a sunflower follow the direction of the sun, changing their orientation from east to west during the day. After admiring the splendour of these flowers we moved on. It was a sunny, warm August afternoon.

It has been three months since I left London and the weather has grown colder in the UK. Temperatures are below zero and snow has been forecast. I was speaking to Martin, who told me he'd been walking along the canal where we saw those sunflowers. There, where beauty once was, now lies death. I could not help but think that we human beings, just like sunflowers, live on this earth for a very short time. Just like those sunflowers, we grow, we reach the climax of our lives, we grow old, we wither and eventually we die. As time goes by, with every day, every hour, every minute and every second going by, we will eventually come to the end of our existence. We will not always have the softness and brightness of those sunflowers. The sun will not always shine and the warmth that gives us life will one day be gone. Someday we will start to get wrinkly. Someday we will become droopy. Someday we will no longer be here.

Lots of people will walk along that canal and look at us. And so whilst we are yellow and following the direction of the sun, we should try and absorb as much energy as we can. We should try and make the most of our time whilst we are still full of life. And when we are old and withering, people will look at us and remember the beautiful sunflower standing tall and pretty along the canal.

When you do your job right, you expect people to commend you...

... but such is not the case for bus drivers in Lima. This past Monday I was on a bus that did not have a conductor. So the driver was making people pay him as soon as they hopped on the bus. Now, how dangerous and reckless is that -- dealing with money and giving tickets to passengers whilst driving a vehicle!! Not an unusual sight in this city, however.

It is impossible to sit on a bus, enjoy a pleasant journey home or to work and relax. You just can't do it here. Why, might you ask? Because a) the driver may be playing music and it can be a bit loud and it may not be what you want to listen to b) Both driver and conductor are loud and rude. More so the conductor c) The horn is always unnecessarily honked by every driver on the road d) Because these buses are trying to get as many passengers as they can, they will drive recklessly. To add to this nightmare, traffic rules are never obeyed. Buses stop just about everywhere to pick up and drop off passengers. There are some signs along the sidewalks saying it is prohibited for a bus to stop there, but it's just a suggestion. They will stop when the light's green to get people to get on the bus, but then, when the light's red, they will run it.

People complain that bus drivers do not do their job right. Passengers treat them like dirt and they are quite rude in return. Much to my astonishment, this driver was actually doing his job the way it should be done. He wouldn't stop at every bloody corner to pick up a 50-cent passenger and he wouldn't drop anyone off wherever they wanted. He was also encouraging people to get on and off the bus at bus stops and he wasn't being rude or sarcastic. He was clearly and politely telling people he could be fined if caught by the police. I could hardly believe it. I had to pinch myself. I wasn't dreaming.

It was good to see this man was trying to make a difference. Yet, his passengers started hurling insults and being absolutely heinous at him. I will not even begin to mention the score of nasty things he was told. It is going to take years for the public transport in Lima to become decent. And if the people do not cooperate to change this chaos into order and civilisation, then it's going to take even longer. I may not be around to see it, and I still got a long way to go... or so I think.

Back home.

I know it has been a good while since I updated my blog. Life just became quite busy when I was in the UK and I completely forgot I had a blog where I explain/talk/rant/bitch about life in general. I will try to get back into the habit of writing.

I am now back home in Peru after spending 13 months in the British Isles where I supported people with learning disabilities to live as independently as possible. If, 5 years ago, anyone had told me I'd spend such a long time in a northern European island helping the mentally disabled, I would have wet my knickers laughing. I love helping people when I can but, 5 years ago, I would not have seen myself as the type of person who would go out of his way for a whole year and a month to help the mentally handicapped in a foreign land. I just wouldn't see it happening. However, the time came when I felt I was really ready to leave Peru for a while and experience life abroad. I looked into several options but I could not find anything that took my fancy. Nor could I find something where I met the criteria. After months of searching and a really annoying itch to get out of the country, I met a bloke who was getting ready to go to Scotland to do voluntary work. At first I wasn't too keen on the idea of volunteering but I thought it could be an experience. And so it was a year later that I decided I would do voluntary work in the UK.

Initially, I was going to spend a year in Edinburgh helping the socially unhinged but I could not get a visa due to a piece of documentation the charity failed to submit. So much for that. I did not stay downhearted for too long, however. I got another job offer from a charity in London. The rest is history. The rest was amazing. The rest taught me so much about myself. The rest is something I will never forget. Supporting people with disabilities was a challenge at times, and yet it was so humbling and rewarding at the same time.

Now I am back home. It is good to be back but I have to re-adjust to life here, even if I was only gone for about 400 days. I want to thank, once again, all of you who came into my life this past year and those who followed me throughout my journey. What's next? You'll have to read my blog...

A visit to ZSL London Zoo.

I went to the zoo with one of my service users for the second time today as we didn't get to see all of it the first time we went there. You could spend an entire day at that zoo and probably not see all of it!

Getting to London Zoo can be a bit of a lengthy trip if you don't live around the area, but it is certainly worth a visit. I was a bit dissapointed that there weren't any elephants and panda bears, but there were meerkats, otters, okapis, insects, reptiles, camels, bearded pigs, lots of birds, gorillas, and llamas!!! A zoo is never complete without llamas.

So my service user and I visited the bits we didn't see the last time and we also took a short stroll around some of the areas we'd been before. I was telling him what the animals were called, what sort of family they belong to and what skills they have. All that info I read off the walls and signs at the zoo, of course! So I'm telling my service users that tigers and lions pounce on their preys and bite their necks, monkeys like to climb trees, llamas spit if you get too close to them, camels molt in the spring, spiders spin webs, etc.

On the way to the bus stop I asked my service user what he saw in zoo. I was hoping I had done a good job at explaining what the animals were and what they did, and I must have been great because his enthusiastic response was:

"I saw lots of different animals!"

:/

Making use of my NHS benefits in the UK.

As a temporary worker in the United Kingdom, I am entitled to NHS (National Health Services), which means I don't have to pay for medical care. And I'm certainly making good use of it -- this is the second time in 4 and a half months that I make a trip to the Accident & Emergency unit!!

After walking home in the snow for around 20 minutes, nature called and I needed to use the loo, as it is called here. So I opened the bathroom door and, because I'm smart and cautious, I put my left hand on the hinges and shut the door with my right hand, thus getting my left index finger caught in the door. The pain was excrutiating and there was blood coming out of my fingernail, which started to become purple. I stood there for a while trying to breathe deeply but blood kept coming out and it started to make me a bit dizzy and my head started buzzing. Still, I had business to take care of in the bathroom, so after getting that out of the way I ran downstairs to take some paracetamol. The pain was still strong and I could not move my finger or my hand at all without wincing. I put a band aid around my bleeding fingernail and went out in the snow again to catch the bus to the local hospital located in the most ghetto and dodgy part of Hackney.

After checking in and seeing the triage nurse, the most fun part of going to the hospital came. Waiting for a doctor to call your name. One of the doctors made an announcement that because of adverse weather conditions -- in other words, a couple of inches of snow -- the A&E was short on staff and we needed to be patient. So I sat there listening in on other people's conversations. A woman who slipped in the ice and injured her wrist was talking about how it took her two hours to get to the hospital and she'd already been waiting for a doctor for an hour. Another woman brought her pregnant friend in because she fell on her back. So I guess a bleeding nail was not all that bad. After 2 hours, a doctor called my name and we went into one of the cubicles. By this time, my nail had stopped bleeding and I had a huge scab. The doc ordered x-rays to make sure I didn't fracture the bone. After getting the x-rays done the doc and one of his colleagues suggested that I could either take painkillers to treat the nail, or they could poke my nail with a needle to get the blood out from under my nail.

I asked if the needle would hurt and they said it wouldn't because nails don't have any nerves. However, because the hematoma was at the base of the needle (where the needle grows) poking a needle in it might not be all that necessary. In the end the doctor decided to do that. A nurse and a med student popped in to watch the action. I should not be scared of needles but I am. I was told it wouldn't hurt but it did. As the English would say, BASTARDS! I was told to keep still, so I did until I screamed for the whole hospital to hear. Another doctor came in and I begged them to not do the needle again.

In the end, they decided it would not work as the hematoma was too close to where the nail grows and the painkillers should do just fine. Now I have a hole in my fingernail. BASTARDS! I was given an anti-inflammatory and paracetamol and I got my fingernail wrapped in dressing. Next time I'm not putting my hand on the hinges before closing a door or walking in front of a motorcycle.

In Britain...

- You don't walk on the sidewalk. You walk on the pavement.
- You don't watch your head when walking through a low door. You mind your head.
- You don't take the elevator. You take the lift.
- You don't watch TV. You watch telly.
- You don't get fired. You get sacked.
- Things don't get taken care of. They get sorted.
- You don't go out with your buddies. You go out with your mates.
- You don't eat cookies. You eat biscuits.
- You don't wear pants. You wear trousers.
- Actually you do wear pants instead of underwear.
- You don't wear sneakers. You wear trainers.
- You don't ask your friends how they are when you see them. You ask them if they are allright.
- You don't watch the gap between the train and the platform. You mind the gap.
- You don't get yelled at. You get told off.
- You don't get an attorney. You get a solicitor.
- You don't have a cell phone. You have a mobile.
- You don't ask your friends where they are. You ask them whereabouts you are.
- You don't use a stove. You use a cooker.
- The engine is not in the hood. It's in the bonnet.
- You don't put your luggage in the trunk. You put it in the boot.

*Feel free to add to this list!*

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.

Mahatma...

... is my middle name and I hate it for many reasons. Not only does it make my legal name longer (Luis Junior Mahatma Moya Rojas, good grief, what were my parents thinking by giving me 5 names!) but it is also a very uncommon name and people used to make fun of it. I have always entertained the thought of dropping it but I'm not sure if it's worth the hassle.

I went to the bank to open an account here in London and the lady was from India. When she noticed my name was Mahatma, she asked me if it came from Mahatma Ghandi. Yes, I told her and I also told her how my mom read about him in a book and decided to name me after him. I didn't tell her how much I hated the name because I didn't want to sound offensive. Then she told me she was from the same town as Mahatma Ghandi! Cool, I thought. When I told her I was here doing charity work for disabled people, she said it was like really cool that I was doing the same thing my namesake used to do. That's the coolest thing I have ever been told about being named Mahatma.

Funny anecdote.

Sometimes I get asked by people if I'm from the United States here in London and I'm not sure that's a good or a bad thing. Anyhow, I went to the supermarket today and the check-out lady made me feel REALLY American.

(In America you use dollars and cents, but here in the UK people use pounds and pence)

Check-out lady: It's 8 pounds and 20 pence.
Me: I'm sorry, how many cents?
Check-out lady: 20 pence. We don't do cents, we do pence, darling.

We had a good laugh, but it made me feel like such a foreigner. :P

It feels like autum!

Greetings from sunny and chilly London! The weather is changing here. The air is chillier and we're getting fewer sunny days. It has also rained some recently -- not unusual in this city at all -- but it's supposed to be sunny this week.

There is a lot to write about but I don't know where to start. Things are going great here in the UK. I have been doing plenty of volunteer work in the morning and a lot of travelling around London in the evening. Working with people who have learning disabilities is very rewarding but it's a challenge at the same time. One of the service users (meaning one of the persons that the charity supports) got robbed as he was getting off the bus. We had to go to the police station to file a report and I'm glad I was there to help him out. My roomate had a seizure a few weeks ago and I needed to call the ambulance.

So basically I hang out with disabled people. We'll go to a pub or a restaurant or a museum and things like that. It's already been a month and time seems to be going by SO quickly! My roomate and I have a dog I have grown very fond of. His name is Snowy and we enjoy going out for a walk in the park.

Things are very different here in the UK but it feels great to be here right now. I miss my friends back in Lima, but I know the UK is the place to be for the time being. Cheers!

So what's going on?

Greetings from sunny London! It's summer here and it's lovely -- this coming from someone who hates summer!

I have already started my volunteer work after a week of "shadowing" other members of the charity. My job is to pretty much hang out with people who have learning disabilities -- some of them have mild disabilities and some of them have severe disabilities. So my job involves taking them out to a museum or a church, doing touristy stuff and whatnot. I'll briefly describe the people I work with:

Cris: He's my roomate and even though he's got cerebral palsy and epilepsy, he's very independent. He does his own cleaning, cooking, shopping, etc. He's planning on moving into an apartment of his own soon. I spend about a couple of hours a day with him talking and hanging out. He was the main person I was gonna work with but it turns out he doesn't really need that much help. So I mainly support the other service users in the area.

Gary: Gary is 25 and a lot of fun. He's got dislexia and stutters a lot. He loves playing pool and going bowling. He just got a CD mixer and he's getting into beat-boxing.

Hymie: He's an older Jewish man who has difficulty communicating. He's a painter and has sold lots of his paintings -- and he makes quite some money!

Peter: Peter has cerebral palsy as well. He's also quite independent but pretty forgetful. He loves museums and he enjoys a boat ride on the Thames.

Sylvia: She's so sweet and loves to talk and visit churches. I'm not sure what her disability is but I have noticed she always repeats what other people say.

All of these folks are great people and they're very aware of who they are, where they are and what's going on around them. HILT (the charity) aims at helping them live on their own, making their own choices with as little help as possible. Your prayers for these people will be eternally appreciated!

I haven't had a major attack of culture shock yet. Things are so different here but I think I'm still in that stage where everything is fun and games. I'm glad I can communicate just fine in English, though. That sure helps a lot! Impressions:

- London is so diverse. More than 200 languages are spoken in this city and there seems to be people from every single country. My neibourhood has lots of Vietanmese and Turkish immigrants, but there are also lots of Polish, Brazilian, Spanish, you name it. There's a wide variety of food also.

- The public transportation system is excellent. Both the buses and the underground/overground are simply fantastic. Everything is very well-organized.

- There is a lot of history here and lots of very old and pretty buildings and churches. London is deft a hot spot for tourism.

I will continue updating as much as I can. Cheers!