Reverse Culture Shock

Here in London, I have more possibilities for evening activities than I have had in the nine months since I moved to Atlanta, Georgia.

I told one friend that I would meet her for sushi in Soho (people say Atlanta has good sushi restaurants, but I am not convinced. It is just too far away from any water). Then another friend told me she was going with a pack of people to a roller disco in Vauxhall. I am tempted, although we would probably be the oldest people there by about ten years.

Then I heard that the play, War Horse, is phenomenal. A gruff Glaswegian told me that he teared up at the end. I teared up looking at the photo of the horse’s eye on the website. So I am going to try to convince my sushi friend to go see it with me.

In Atlanta, evening options are a bit more limited. We joined the High Museum, and enjoyed their Friday night jazz show. But I have yet to find a roller disco in Atlanta.

But London’s not perfect. It was so cold and rainy yesterday that I had to buy a scarf. I wore it on top of my jeans, boots, and sweater. And it’s August.