White Knight

So, seeing as I am not living in Kyiv anymore, it is time to jump back to this much-neglected blog. (If you have nothing else to do and wish to read of my adventures, you can find them here.)

Pictures always make everything better. I am already missing this place

Right now I am in London, sitting by myself in the London Airport and eating a lovely breakfast of eggs and salmon and toast with marmalade, in my little corner, in my hat. I must say I feel quite sophisticated. This is not to say that I am, but do I have a feeling London has a way of making even the most uncoordinated creature feel sophisticated. I am really gonna miss this whole independence travel the world adventuring thing.  But that's an entirely different rant. I made a mistake last night, and it happened somewhere in-between Kings Cross and Royal Victoria.

     Here is what you find on the platform when you board the tube. For some reason I am fascinated by the way they phrase things

You see, I went to Kyiv with one carry-on, one large suitcase, and one medium one. I ended up having to throw away the medium one, send the large one home, and have been living out of a teeny tiny carry-on for the past 18 days (Britney, your backpack has SAVED ME, ha) How I have accomplished this downsize, I still do not know. As you can imagine, my little carry-on has gotten significantly heavier since we started out, as I have been picking up souvenirs here and there and everywhere, and after visiting 15 cities and 7 countries, my suitcase is REALLY HEAVY. I'd say almost a good fifty pounds. That may not sound like a lot, but when you throw in a backpack and take into account my marshmallow arms, it is quite a challenge running around to different train stations and airports all night long.
Last night as we were trying to find our hotel, we got a tad bit lost. It got a little tricky pulling around all that luggage. At one point, I was trying to haul my suitcase up a big flight of stairs when a young man going the other way decided to stop and ask if I needed any help. I imagine I looked pretty flustered, which is great because it probably hid the bright red hue that surely hit my cheeks the second he turned around and spoke to me in his lovely british accent (then again, probably not, thank you genetics). I was already half-way up the stairs, and if course my instincts tell me that you can totally do this on your own. So of course I told him thank you very much but I was alright. He asked again throwing in this huge smile. I really think I looked pathetic at this point. "Are you sure?" ---yes, thank you so much! and kept right on swinging and hauling my little 5-ton suitcase up those stony stairs.
A few seconds later I was totally kicking myself. What a nice guy, and why in the world did I turn him down? Not in an, oh, he was really cute, swoon, sort of way, but in a, wow, he was really being kind and I should have let him help me sort of way. Because really, this world is so caught up in the business-woman working women doing everything on her own woman sort of thing. A man opens the door for us, and we tell him, "thanks but I am perfectly able to do that on my own." Then another man doesn't open the door for us, and we start ranting off about how Chivalry is Dead and how men have no respect for women anymore.
Well, what do we expect them to do?
I decided that next time a man offers to help me with something, I will let him and be all the more grateful for it. Yes, I am perfectly capable of doing it on my own, but that is the tried and true system, and it is fabulous! To all you many men out there who aren't afraid to be a gentleman, thank you! I praise you! You are appreciated! Keep it up.
That's my rant for the day.

Now off to board a plane! AMERICA here I come :)