Leith (in English)

After spending a week cut-off from all civil forms of communication while trapped in the snow with a bunch of French sixth-graders, I returned this week to the land where my love of travel and life abroad all began: England. 

For the holidays, I'm spending a full two weeks with an absolutely lovely family who's become closer than family to me over the past few years.  With my sister in tow, we're all planning on spending the next few cold, snowy, holiday cheer-filled days exploring the beautiful English Dales and stuffing our mouths with chips and wine until I have to waddle back over the French border come January.

Granted, I love France and am even growing used to French culture, but there's something about spending time with something a bit more familiar and comfortable over the holidays...  Of course, given that my own family and boyfriend are 6,000 expensive miles across the map, my surrogate English family is a comforting memory of when I first fell in love with living life on the other side of the Atlantic. 

As an added bonus, for the first time in three months I can greet people on the street in English, crack jokes and actually be understood, and just sit back and relax by the Christmas tree as the snow drifts by the window.   But nothing could possibly top the feeling of watching the made-for-t.v. movie on the telly about England's Fattest Man and his alcoholic nurse, con-artist manager and pregnant runaway friend who force-feeds him healthy food to make him lose weight (and thereby his only means of making money).  No one does heartwarming Christmas programming like the English. 

Man, it's good to be home away from home.