I cannot, however, speak of the English in the same light. Half an inch of snow or an overnight freeze brings British civilization to a sudden and screeching halt. The light snow that dusted London overnight on Tuesday resulted in widespread closings and delays. While I normally would find this frustrating, it provided me with a great excuse to stay at the flat and nurse my jet-lagged body and catch up with a best friend I haven't seen face to face in over a year. I was less amused yesterday when some minor morning flurries left me stranded at the bus station in Canterbury for nearly two hours. I was admittedly lucky, as many bus routes were no longer running. I was assured that my bus to London would come and was given numerous updates as I sat patiently and waited. It was nearly on time, it was running behind, it was broken, it was on its way. The truth, the bus seemed to up and vanish. I wasn't expecting this type of inefficiency in England, but I suppose I will do as the British do and blame it on the weather.
In just a few more days I will be landing in Chicago and I will have five weeks of subzero wind chills and blizzards to contend with. I think I am ready for it, yet I can't help but wonder why I don't ever come home in the summer. From what I remember, Wisconsin is lovely in the summer.