I'm here?

My first steps on international soil were greeted at the passport check, by a beautiful, but altogether scathing British accent:

"You should really take your passport out of the booklet next time."

Next time, I will.

Everything's so green--greener than you can imagine. I guess that's what happens when it rains constantly. The highways leading into downtown London are framed by pretty wooden fences that keep back the rough bramble. There are cows and ponies and really cute houses in little suburban neighborhoods with quaint courtyards. Driving into the city, you can see the red rooftops of thousands of houses--all inched as close as sardines, but tastier--giving way to bigger, taller, grander buildings. The facades lining the street seem ancient and roads wind around. You start to forget you're driving on the left side of the road. 

My flat is on Hogarth, on the fifth floor. I have 100 pounds of luggage. There is no elevator.

Photos to come.