Just BEEing Friendly

Here's the BUZZZZZ...

This past Sunday I decided to try out a church down the street from our flat. I had heard that the 9:30 service was lively, had great music and attracted a large group from the Jesmond community. I thought this would be a great opportunity to meet some people as well as find a local church to attend. James was studying all day for his Unified Exam that was the following day; this left me braving a new group of people on my own.

Typical to my time table, I was running a little late as I rushed into the church right before the first hymn started. I sat down next to the only other person who looked under seventy years old. She seemed nice, in her twenties and like someone who could potentially be a friend. However, when I smiled she was dismissive and looked down at her hymn book. That was the first indication that she had no interest in socializing. The service continued; when it came time to greet my fellow parishioners I said good morning and asked my unfriendly neighbor if she always attended this church. She informed me that it was her first time. I asked what church she usually went to and she gave a short reply.  When I asked why she no longer went to the previous church she looked at me with a scowl and said, "Because it is too social, they all just want to be friends. I come to worship." After that I sincerely got the message and zipped my lips. However, I mentally noted the church she used to frequent. I will definitely try that out next week!

The church I attended is a Church of England, so they take communion every Sunday. However, instead of distributing individual plastic cups or dipping the bread in the chalice, like I am accustomed to, the entire congregation drinks from the same cup. I know I sound like a horrible person, but I just cannot get on board with that. All I think about is the backwash and germs spreading from the hundred (or so) other people in the church. As I told James, I'm sure God understands why I pretend to drink from the chalice.

When it was our turn to take communion the unfriendly girl sitting next to me got up and walked to the front of the church to take communion. While she was away I was innocently sitting in my pew when I heard a buzzing and felt something on my finger. A HUGE bee landed right on my index finger!! Of course I freaked out, squealed a little and shook my hand violently, which accidentally sent the bee flying directly into the unfriendly girls purse! When the girl came back I tried to tell her that a bee landed on me and flew into her purse when I shook it off. I warned her not to put her hand into her purse before looking because she might get stung! The girl just looked at me and without a word, lowered her head to pray. Was she praying for me to shut up? There was nothing else I could do! Hopefully she listened to my advice; only the bee knows the buzz.

The moral of the story, I suppose, is BEE nice to others, or you might get stung!

Immigration Interrogation

One would think that because James and I are married, it would be easy for me to attain a United Kingdom visa to join him during his study abroad. As a seven and a half hour detainee, I now know better!

In July I was denied a dependent visa, which would allow me to accompany James during his studies in Newcastle. They said because he will only be in the United Kingdom studying for nine months and not over a year that I, as his wife, am not eligible for a visa. Although upset, we resolved that I would come three months during the first semester and three months during the second semester. This would leave us away from each other for three weeks at the end of each term. Although hard, we figured it was the only way and I would try to work something out by pleading my case to the British Consulate once inside the United Kingdom. Knowing I did not have a visa and would be entering the United Kingdom as a visitor, we set off for our time abroad. 

Upon arrival at London Heathrow, we proceeded to go through customs and immigration. My parents, and mother-in-law all made it through without trouble. James and I were stopped. They said they did not have fingerprints for James and they had some questions for me. Great! About an hour later, after missing our flight, an immigration officer came back and told James that everything was clear with him and he could go through. James asked if he could wait with me until my issue was resolved, but his request was denied. They forced him to go through security, leaving me alone in the immigration detainee area. After another two hours of waiting, immigration took away my phone and told me they had to search through all my bags, get my fingerprints and take my photo. I asked why I was being stopped and the case manager informed me that he couldn't tell me until the interrogation portion. 

I started to cry because I thought they were going to send me back to California, which my case manager said was a likely outcome. Because I was sobbing and obviously don't look like a threat, I think he started to feel sorry for me. He ended up telling me that because my visa was denied, and I still came to the United Kingdom a month later, it seemed like I was trying to live in the country illegally. I explained to him that I just wanted to stay with my husband while he studied; I had no intention of living in the United Kingdom. I told him that we had enough financial support and wouldn't be living off the government. In desperation, I added that I would help boost the economy because I like to shop... a lot!! Hearing that he chuckled and the mood lightened as he continued to search all my carryon items. He said I didn't pack as much makeup as most women, but I made up for it with jewelry and accessories. One of my carryon bags consisted solely, pun intended, of shoes: Prada loafers, Christian Louboutin pumps, Rag and Bone booties, Charlotte Olympia and Gucci sandals as well as some of my other favorites. When he came to that bag and it literally popped open, he laughed, looked at me and said, "You will be good for the economy!” To close it again, I literally had to sit on top of it. I just looked up from my bag, while forcing it shut and said, "I told you so". 

After all my bags were searched they took all my belongings away and held me in the immigration detention area again. Keep in mind this is about 4 hours after I was initially stopped. Parched and hungry, I was told to wait until the next case manager was available to interrogate me. Another hour after that, the same case manager came and took me into the interrogation room, where he asked many questions, wrote each answer down and had me initial each statement. I was interrogated for roughly another hour. At the end of the interrogation, he asked for James' phone number so he could ask him a few questions as well. 

This entire time, my parents and James were worried sick, calling my phone repeatedly, trying to figure out what was happening, and making sure we could all get on the next flight to Newcastle if I was granted admission into the country. My mother-in-law had gone on to meet up with my brother-in-law who was already in Newcastle. When James got the call from the immigration case manager, he said he felt like he was on a newlywed's game show. He had to answer loads of questions about me, our relationship, his education, my education, our monetary situation, my family, his family and anything else you can think of. 

While they were interviewing James I continued to wait even longer. Since this is the closest I have ever been to jail, I was terrified! Luckily, one of the detention guards took pity on me, and snuck me in “a cuppa” of tea. First lesson of jail, always make friends with the guards! As another hour passed, my case manager finally came in and told me I was granted admission into the country and I now have a special pass, which allows me to stay with James for the duration of his study abroad! Yay!! However, they told me I cannot work, and don’t even think about volunteering; At least that leaves shopping! J After I was released, I ran through security, where they stopped me and made me take out everything from my bags once again. Third time is the charm! My parents, James and I barely made the last flight of the night to Newcastle, arriving at our hotel around midnight.

Although my time as a detainee was the worst seven and a half hours EVER (I learned later they can only hold you for nine hours; I almost reached the max!), everything worked out to our benefit. It was tiring, stressful and emotionally taxing, but in the end we are OK in the UK. 

New Year, Newcastle!

This past year has been a whirlwind of adventure, excitement, hard work and stress! After one year in the Grenada, forty science units in 9 months and a MCAT quickie, my lawyer/doctor-to-be husband, James, is now in his first year of medical school!

St. George's University provides a unique educational experience. One available option, upon acceptance to St. George's University, is the opportunity to take part in the Keith B. Taylor Global Scholars Program ("KBT"). This program allows students to complete their first year of medical school at Northumbria University in Newcastle Upon Tyne, United Kingdom. After a year in Newcastle, the KBT students then complete their second year of medical school in Grenada at St. George's University and last two clinical years at teaching hospitals in the United States. Since we already spent one year in Grenada, during James' post-baccalaureate program, we decided to switch it up and experience a year in England between our Grenadian adventures!

Considering my last blog was titled, O.M.Grenada, it didn't seem appropriate to keep it going during our UK stay. This blog is to keep everyone up to date on our latest and greatest quips, tips and tales! I hope you enjoy, OK in the UK! xo