Mexican Geordie: First Weekend

It's me again!!

How the heck are you, anyway?

Well, I've been experiencing all the spectrum of emotions throughout this first week. And I know, I'm going to sound like a jerk, but by Saturday I was already regretting coming here.

I know you want to kill me.

Don't get me wrong. I am very grateful for this opportunity, and, if anything, I was blaming myself for "this mistake." I felt very discouraged because I live so far from everything, I had been walking non-stop for two days, I had no mom cooking a hearty meal, it's too cold for September (gotta blame Texas for that), and I was being bombarded with information. And feeling terribly alone. To the point where I have to have music playing in the room at all times. Suddenly, I didn't want this so bad. I wanted to go home (especially after the shitty Friday night I had).

Thus, I don't remember much about Saturday. I remember more feelings than actual events. I probably shopped, I went places, had a free meal somewhere, and I don't remember the rest. Oh yeah... I remember going out to look for my nearest Catholic church and being unable to find it. So there, just a crappy day.

Moreover, if you know me at all, you know it takes me quite a while to get used to new people and to warm up to them enough to consider them friends. An introvert in disguise, I find meeting too many people in a short period of time really exhausting. And you cling to these acquaintances because they really are all you've got here, but you know, deep down, that you are strangers thrown together in the same situation. It's a strange feeling.

Anyway, Sunday arrives. I wake up early, get ready, and walk. Walk. Walk. Until I find it. St. Cuthbert's R.C. Church. The church seems to be falling apart from the outside--it might be sinking into the ground or something like that because there are metal beams going up and down the walls of the building, as if supporting the structure. It's in shambles. As I go in there, I feel my heart filling up with a strange combination of nostalgia, love, and peace. I love this little tiny and modest church. I am home. No, no usher greeted me. Even better--Jesus greeted me personally. MY LORD AND MY GOD!!!

Anyway, my non-believing friends might be sick to their stomachs or simply bored by now, so moving on. Mass was (as always) extraordinary. I received my Savior in communion--whole body, blood, soul and divinity (aah well, I can't help it, non-catholic friends. He is, after all, the love of my life). After spending this hour in my new home, the sky seemed bluer, the breeze felt gentler, and the day was brightening up. With renewed strength, I went back home just in time to hop on a train to....*DRUM ROLL*

NEWCASTLE UPON TYNE!!!!!!

This is the nearest city to me. About 15 minutes by train. And it's a nice, nice place. The Geordie mecca of the world!

I went there with a few others from my building. We went to the shopping mall. I tried clothes, I complained to the mirror about my body, bought stuff, and just walked around. Here are some pictures: