“Nothing contributes so much to tranquillise the mind as a steady purpose —a point on which the soul may fix its intellectual eye.” — Mary Shelley, Frankenstein

I always dreamt of traveling to Europe, but I never imagined for a minute that I would end up relocating there.

Early Days: It was the spring of 2000. I had been contemplating on sitting for the licensing exam for a while, after all, it had been 2 years since I completed graduate school. However, an opportunity arose in the summer of that year which involved moving to England. I thought this was a decision that was not to be made lightly. It took countless days and endless nights of deliberation on my part because it meant I had to leave my family and friends and the beautiful white sand beaches of Florida. A couple of friends attempted to persuade me to stay. They were fraught with anxiety as I did not know anyone in England and they feared that should things go south for me, I had no one to turn to. I did not want to leave the country either at the time, not yet anyway. Another factor that made me hesitate in making my final decision and weighed heavily on my mind was the wedding of one of my sisters in the fall of the same year.

I was not averse to change or moving to a foreign country for that matter. After all, this was not my first time to relocate to another country. At the time, I looked forward to a new chapter in my life, but it did not make for an easy decision. I was at the start of developing a career I love and thought getting licensed to practice was a sort of way to seal my fate to something I truly believe was my calling. However, I made a commitment to someone and I was not one to go back on my word. In the end, I shelved the thought of being licensed in my profession; sold my car and most of my possessions; and said my goodbyes to family and friends. The prospect of moving to England stirred my desire to see more of the world.

Upon arrival, the accommodation, which I thought was booked and confirmed, was not. My prospective landlord, unbeknown to me, made other arrangements for me. She was pleasant and apologetic, but I sensed a tad of awkwardness on her part. I suppose she expected an American Caucasian prospective tenant and I happened to be an American with Asian ethnicity. Anyhow, a cup of tea later, she handed me the keys to another flat a few doors down, owned by one of her friends. Let me just say that my stay in that flat did not last long either because, like the supposed landlord, her friend made other arrangements too and I had to leave the flat.

A couple of months later, I found myself at a flat in a small village not too far. Apart from the Chinese gentleman who owned the Chinese food takeaway, I was the only other individual of Asian descent in the 10-mile, perhaps more, radius. Hence, village life in the midlands had commenced.

I read somewhere that the winter prior was the sunniest ever recorded in England, but that year when I arrived was the wettest ever recorded since 1907. So, this Floridian experienced first-hand a typical cold, wet English weather.

A few weeks in, I was psyched to do some exploration. First stop, petrol station — to fill up the car and venture out. Looking through my front room window, I could see the petrol station. I noticed a long queue of vehicles out there — it had been like that for days. I initially thought that it must be one of those busy petrol stations with a one-stop shop next to it. Then I realized that, unlike in America where a household owns two or more cars, England has a brilliant public transportation system (compared to America) and each household does not necessarily own a car! So, a long queue at the petrol station was a rare scene. I learned later on that there was a disruption in the supply of petroleum products because of the ongoing protests against the rise in petrol and diesel fuel prices across England that year. In the end, I opted to get on the train with London as my destination.

My first stop was "The Bridge" — Not Tower Bridge. Not London Bridge (the original has not been in London for approximately 54 years — it was relocated to Arizona). "The Bridge" was Stamford Bridge. I had been a Chelsea supporter a few years prior to my move to England and was following the progress of the football stadium renovation online, curious to see what the finished product actually looked like. In case you are wondering, football in Europe (and in other countries outside of the U.S.) refers to soccer. As part of my initial exploration of London, I also went to see the usual tourist sites like Tower Bridge, Buckingham Palace, The Parliament, etc.

A month later, approximately 30 miles west of central London, I found myself in Marlow, Buckinghamshire. I agreed to accompany a friend who had an interview appointment there because it was an opportunity for me to explore the town. While waiting for my friend, I took a stroll and happened upon the former residence of none other than Percy Bysshe and Mary Shelley. Mary worked on her novel, Frankenstein, there. I read somewhere that the house was put up for sale in 2015 for approximately £1M.