A few bits and bobs.

Hello humans. Here we are, Week 6.5 of my time in England town and its hard to believe that in less than 2 months I'll be rocking around the Christmas tree! Funny how being around actual season-appropriate weather can put you in the holiday mood. I have always abided by my strict no Christmas music until after Thanksgiving rule, but if they don't celebrate Thanksgiving in England then am I exempt from this limitation? ;) *sprints to computer and blasts Harry Connick's Christmas album.

These past few weeks I have been spending trying to intentionally pursue my newest love affair--the city of Canterbury. Oh, how it was love at first sight the second I stepped foot on her cobblestone street. But my love has only grown the more time I spend with her and--yeah, okay, this is getting creepy. What I thought I would do is give you more of the scoop on what daily life is like around these parts because yes, contrary to popular belief, I do go to class.

For the most part, my life looks like a normal Uni student who gets herself into the typical shenanigans that one encounters whilst studying in a different country. My friends and I had our first UK concert experience, buying last minute tickets to a band that was playing on campus. What we learned is that despite the open bar that seems to accompany every student-run event here at Kent (and you would think would elicit some form of loose movement), the Brits don't like to dance. I swear I was the only one who so much as clapped my hands the entire time. Have no fear, in typical Cameron fashion I had gotten a few people to at least stand up near the front and look like they were enjoying themselves by the end of the show. Those Brits. Gotta love that enthusiastic demeanor.

It was lovely to have a break from uni students when my wonderful grandparents came to town! It was quite a surreal feeling to feel like I actually know this city well. So much so that I knew where to direct them and already had ideas in mind of places to eat and things to do. Of course, in true Omi and Grandpa form, though they were visiting my territory they had to make sure I had one, somewhat-odd, random, cultural, "teachable moment" to expose me to. And that is how I found myself in the crypt of the Canterbury cathedral on a Friday night with a bunch of 80+ers, listening to a singing and story telling performance. Their mission to outsmart me in my own city was a successful one. Well played, Grandparents, well played.

Also not unlike Omi and Gramps; as they were dropping me off at the bus station I was telling them about this particular bus driver who is always so mean and my friends, and we do anything we can to avoid her. Well, I get on 2nd level of the bus and am waving them goodbye. Next thing I know I look out the window and Evil Bus Driver has gotten out of the bus and begins to have a friendly, 5-minute conversation with Omi and Gramps. They're laughing and carrying on, all the while everyone in the bus is getting annoyed that the bus still hasn't left. I was in disbelief. Only my Omi and Gramps could charm the bus driver who hates everyone else. As Grandpa later texted me, "She affectionately patted me on the arm, and with a 'toot-toot', there you went into the darkness with that lovely bus driver..."

Omi and Gramps, and said butch bus driver.

This week is reading week, which means everyone travels or goes home and no one actually reads. I had flirted with the idea of taking a few day trips but with my multiple upcoming trips I decided to revert to my over-achieving ways and actually use this time to get ahead in coursework. Well when I got sick of doing that, I did what anyone would do, and accepted an invitation to go on a Zombie Bar Crawl on a Tuesday night.

Never being one to half-ass a costume, my friend and I loaded up on all of the Halloween makeup kits we could find and went to town. Just as I was putting the finishing touches on my dead and decaying face, it was time for the fake blood. And wouldn't you know, with the grace and poise that I always posses, I tried to take the lid off the blood the entire bottle exploded and squirted all over me and...my white walls. There were no shortage of "what'd you do, murder someone?" jokes, but if you saw it you would say the same. A complete murder scene all over my bed sheets and my walls of flake blood. One week later and I can report that no, not even a magic eraser can get it off and yes, I will get charged for maintenance re-painting after I leave. I may need to leave a note to the painters assuring them that is not real blood (or an unfortunate Aunt Flow incident...) before they think they have another Amanda Knox situation on their hands. I swear this stuff only happens to me.

Deciding to put that fiasco on hold for the night, we went on to have a mind-blowing (get it? because brains?) good time. The best part was getting to meet other Brits who will automatically assume the position of your best friend the instant they hear that you're from California. Not America, California. Though I was sad to see Halloween come and go without dressing up for the first time in 21 years, I'm counting this zombie experience as my costume for 2015.

I will end this post with another everyday occurrence in the city of Canterbury, and that is that it is always hosting some sort of festival or fair. Honestly, I'll walk into town on a normal Tuesday afternoon and theres a random Ferris wheel or food truck just hanging out. The other day I noticed an international food fair in the middle of the street. As I walked past, I saw scrumptious baklava, potent curry, danish pastries...it was a dream! Then I got to the United States booth. Behold. An obese, redneck woman (A US stereotype come to life) surrounded by Kit Kats, Sun Chips, and Oreo cookies. In other words, the world only knows us for our junk food. It made me chuckle.

One more note about food; a few weeks back I had my first traditional, English Sunday roast (kinda a big deal in these parts). It was the most magical experience in my existence and I would willingly bathe in a tub filled with dat gravy. Feast yer eyes: