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until now, i've dedicated this blog to the exciting/humourous/pleasurable bits of my experiences here. now i want to open up a window into a part of my smaller, daily reality; what goes on when i'm not distracted by amazing architecture or stunning vistas. i'm not playing down the "highs", so to speak, just injecting a dose of reality by letting you know a little about the "lows" as well. here goes...
there were a lot of things they didn't tell me during our compulsory (and thus far, useless--at least to me) study abroad orientation. they didn't tell me that i would be living on potatoes, or that i would become addicted to chocolate-covered digestives, that it would be cheapest to travel by train, or that it would cost more than a dollar to send a postcard home. they lectured me about not losing my passport or my tickets, about making sure i could pick up my own suitcase, and about being a "good representative of the linfield community", but what they really failed to mention was anything meaningful about the reality of living abroad. they tossed in the catch phrase "homesickness," and warned us not to fall prey to it, but they never told us what that might mean for our experience while abroad. for me, "homesickness" is a daily reality that i like to call "being in two places at once".
_____
i knew, before i left for this trip, that being away from home for such a length of time would be really difficult for me. last year was just so packed with amazing--so much growth and discovery and pure joy--that there was no way that the transition would be easy. i felt like i had finally found home again (an idea that had started to drift away sometime toward the end of my freshman year)--a place where i belonged, with people who knew me and understood me and genuinely cared about me. i experienced the greatest academic challenges of my life so far, and for the most part was able to rise to the occasion. i struggled through leadership challenges and stressful schedules, and learned a lot about myself through that.
and i found love, and embarked on a whole new journey there. pretty much just as i was starting to piece together a life that i was feeling and loving with my entire being, i decided to pack a few pictures, and plunk myself down in a situation that i had never seen before.where i landed in was not entirely unfamiliar: i had, after all, started from scratch just a couple of years ago when i came to college--a new place, new people, new opportunities and ways of doing things. here i ended up in a dorm full of 18 year old freshmen, still high on the idea of freedom with a capital "F". they were itching to get out, par-tay, and "meet" people (as much as that is possible after consuming copious quantities of alcohol), and i found myself distancing myself from that. i'd done it once (minus the alcohol part), and didn't quite feel up to pushing myself that way again. that worked out okay, as i fell in with some other, older students who likewise felt no need to partake in 'freshman year madness, round two'. what i found myself longing for most, during the first weeks of being here, was some sort of normalcy. i absolutely craved the start of classes, where i would once again be in a realm that i knew i could navigate. so classes began, and i started to grasp a stronger footing. then i went out for the ultimate frisbee team here, and met some really cool people who could have fun without alcohol being involved (on the field at least). and then i started traveling. and you would think that all of that activity would have to be the solution to this issue of homesickness.the reality of homesickness is that it isn't that simple. you can't distract yourself 24 hours a day, 7 days a week for almost 5 months... it's just not happening. i found that every moment i wasn't otherwise engaged, i would be (and still am) overwhelmed with a longing for home. more recently, i have been realizing just how much of myself i left at home. i left a lot of my heart there: it's tied up in erik, and in becca and sam and joy and all my other friends... in my favorite corners all over campus, in the SO-AN department where i spent half my life last year, in the familiar smell of the melrose hall classrooms, in the hugs and smiles i am so lucky to share and see every day at home. homesickness is far more than just being lonely, or missing silly things like peanut butter: it's coming to the realization that you've split yourself into two pieces, stretched across enormous distance, and that you have to learn to live with the constant ache that follows.this doesn't mean that i'm not having fun here. not at all. i'm having an amazing time traveling, i've met cool people, i'm having a blast playing frisbee, and classes are interesting and stimulating. but, it does mean that when the distractions fade away, and i find myself alone at night in my room, that i am far less than happy. in those moments, i often dissolve into tears, as i (unfortunately) dwell on the fact that i'm missing out on things at home, as i count the weeks and then the days until i will be flying back and realize how far away it really is, as i wish that i could sit down and have a talk with friends over tea, or crawl into bed for a cuddle with my love. sometimes the harsh reality that none of that is happening for a long time yet is just too much to bear. sometimes i'm really sensitive to little things: like seeing a couple walk by holding hands, or a nearby group of friends burst out in laughter. other days i just feel so shut down, and i'll have trouble getting motivated to do things like homework or going for a run. i sometimes feel like i walk through the day like a zombie, not really here, because that part of me i left at home is tugging extra hard for some reason.most days i can fight it off, thanks to the necessity of class, the fun planning my next adventure, and that life-saver called skype. others i don't, though, and i worry that this constant torn feeling will end up holding me back. i don't want it to prevent me from doing things (though i really don't think that it has yet), or enjoying them as much as i should. i want to be present to what is happening in my life, since that made such a difference for me last year, but i'm finding it difficult. i think that this is just a new reality that i need to learn how to deal with, and i'm learning to do that (my journal is my best friend). but, let me tell you this: being in two places at once isn't as romantic as it's made out to be.but, never fear my friends--i still laugh as loud as ever, and say random things that don't make sense, and do awkward celebratory dances. the picture here is proof of that. :)i also want to send a quick thank you to all of the people who have been so supportive of me:erik--thank you for keeping me sane, love. i don't know if i could have gotten this far without you being there for me at every turn. :)becca--thank you for still sending me notes "just because", even though i'm an ocean away.sam--thanks for diligently reading and commenting on my blog. and for sending me letters in hello kitty envelopes.joy--thank you so much for sending me your music so i can listen to your voice!nadia--thanks for swapping frustrations with me. we'll get through this together. :)ansley--i can't wait to see you and talk to you in person! until then, thanks for your wonderful, supportive emails.brett--thanks for being ridiculous like you always are!jesse--thanks for giving really good hugs and amazing travel suggestions.katie (williams, that is: i know a lot of katies)--thanks for being an amazing travel buddy!emily--thanks for making me laugh, and for laughing at me. i appreciate it a lot!katie (ouzounian): thanks for being amazing, and for asking me the questions that inspired this post to begin with.mom and dad--thanks for keeping me up to date on the homeplace, per usual. i'm glad to hear that life is still sort-of normal in some places! :)cheers,b
my trip to LONDON was an interesting experience, marked by imposing buildings, equally imposing crowds, and a lot of contrasts. i will say off the bat that london will never be my favorite place in the world. for me it was too big and too hurried and too chock-full of people to be exceedingly enjoyable. the history of it was interesting, as were the contrasts between the old and new bits of the city (or the trendy and less so), but on the whole i found it to be overwhelming.
i think the feeling of the city (or the very limited parts of it that i walked through) is that it is very much like the enormous buildings which it is famous for: large, imposing, and apt to make you feel small. the buildings are beautiful, the people are diverse (i heard many more languages than i could possibly recognize walking on its streets), the public transport fantastically convenient and easy to navigate, the food delicious... and yet my impression of it as i left, which is nothing more than that, is that it is a city that could easily become rather cold and inhospitable if you didn't work to find its smaller, more human, more accessible corners.
what thrilled me most about this trip wasn't seeing the sights (though they were very photo-worthy and i took my fair share of pictures), but rather things like the morning that katie and i spent on a playground near our hostel: jumping on the swings even though they were soaking wet, goofing off on the merry-go-round, and watching adorable children play as they chattered away in french. or walking through the tibetan peace garden we stumbled across outside the imperial war museum. or the service katie, brett, and i attended in westminster abbey. or the hours we all spent together sitting under the london eye, talking about life over boxes of take out noodles (and later, over coffee). each of these moments was marked by a certain intimacy that i'm not sure you can find while constantly surrounded by strangers and mile-high marble. having never lived in a city, i can't speak speak of it, but i imagine that this is what people who do live in one spend their time doing: cultivating that intimacy, so as not to be lost in the immense ocean of comings and goings that comprises such a place. no different than other places maybe, but perhaps with a greater sense of urgency than those who abide in a "smaller" place.
i have been continually learning more about myself during this trip as i visit new places, and london was no exception. spending just a few days there cemented in my mind the fact that living in an enormous city probably isn't for me. i have too great a need of open spaces, and times that i can't hear/see/otherwise percieve human presence. i love people--i find them fascinating and perplexing and beautiful, but after a while i really find myself needing to get away. i need to get back into contact with the voice inside of me, and it isn't strong enough to be heard above sirens and traffic and an endless hum of other people's conversations.
so, instead, i'll visit them, and marvel at their beauty and complexity and unique flavors. and take lots of pictures of course. below are a few of my favorites from LONDON. enjoy!
b
tower bridge.
westminster abbey.
in the tibetan peace garden.
portabello road, site of a gi-normous street market. do it. it's worth the crowds.
people watching in front of buckingham palace.
totally sweet car buzzing by buckingham palace. :) and yes, we were blinded by sun the entire weekend. most excellent!
spectacular night skyline.
riding the london eye.
view from the top. it's a spectacular skyline, no doubt.
yay for new friends!
and old ones too! :)
i could sum up this past weekend in three simple truths: i love trains. i love hostels. i love brighton. but... in true beth-fashion, i have no intention of limiting myself to that, so brace yerselves and read on.
this weekend was absolutely fantastic. i had the chance to travel to brighton (it's on the south-east coast of england pretty much directly south of london, for those that don't know their geography--don't feel bad, i don't yet either), and spend four days falling in love with travel and with another bit of beautiful england.
thursday morning marked the commencement of our travels (bless the heavens for four-day weekends), and the start of my love affair with all things train-related. i traveled with a new friend from virginia, katie, who was responsible for remembering to do important things--like write down our train departure and arrival times, and the confirmation number for the hostel we booked in brighton. i, the true greenhorn, spent most of my time just trying not to look too much like a tourist, but still gazing open-mouthed at the high ceilings of the nottingham train station (or out the window of our speedy, efficient train... or the window of our hostel room at the unbelievable view, but more about those in a sec). i have decided that train stations are possibly the most aesthetically beautiful man-made environments i have ever experienced. there's something so marvelous about these large, heavy, iron-work-clad buildings that seem to defy their undeniable heft--and float, because they are so full of light and air and the movement of people on their way to some new adventure, or on their way home. i could (and did) spend hours watching the sunlit bustle of these places. oh, and did i mention that they are clean, efficient, full of helpful people, relatively inexpensive (thank you, youth rail card), and that the trains are always exactly on time? marvelous.
okay, enough raptures... the point is, actually getting to our destination was in itself an experience. so, we successfully navigated our way all the way to the door of the brighton train station, thanks to dozens of helpful signs, and in the distance we saw... sun-kissed ocean! and we made a beeline. lucky for us, our hostel was located directly on the waterfront, overlooking the pier, only steps away from a gorgeous rocky beach. oh. my. gosh. katie and i were absolutely pinching ourselves with glee when we found ourselves standing at our hostel room window on the third floor of a fantastic, creaky old building (bar below, winding and mildly treacherous halls above), looking out over the english channel. we had arrived! and we were hungry. we left in search of food, which turned into a several-hours-long wander through the streets of brighton. we did find food (pad thai delicious), and enjoyed getting mildly disoriented on narrow streets, stumbling across amazing historic buildings and hidden corners, all better explored in daylight. that didn't keep us from lingering extra long to watch the sun set from the pier, and then we turned back to the hostel, heads already full of plans (well, vauge ideas) for the next morning.
time for my piece on hostels: i think they're fabulous. granted, this one was in an amazing location, full of friendly staff, had free breakfast, a shower that worked, perfectly civil guests, and was my first time. yes, i lost my hostelling virginity on this trip. let's just say it was a positive experience. ha! but anyway, i digress... i just really love the basic idea behind hostels--providing affordable housing to young (and young-at-heart) people in a good jumping-off point for exploration, along the minimal amenities needed to make it an overall more enjoyable experience (showers are nice after all). it was fantastic to hear german, spanish, and english (of various origins and accents) all spoken around us, as guests asked questions about the history and the must-sees of the city, and to walk back into our room to find a new roommate from a new place nearly every night we were there. the copious amounts of toast at breakfast, football (that means soccer y'all) games playing on the tvs all afternoon, and crowded, friendly bar in the evenings didn't hurt any either.
friday morning i woke up to a gorgeous, sun-filled, sea-filled view from my top-bunk perch. i decided to be ambitious at 7:30 am, and went for a run along the waterfront. it was a fantastic way to take a surreptitious look at the early morning life of brighton. there were other runners, lots of people zipping by on bikes, swimmers braving the freezing cold water (yikes!), and above it all you could hear the slow rumbling of a city shaking off sleep. after my run, i strolled back along the beach for a bit, and had a chance to marvel at my position. i, the girl who had hardly left oregon, was sitting on the edge of the english channel, watching the sun light up the seafront buildings of a totally unknown city just waiting to be explored. how amazing to be young, alive, and on the edge of so many adventures! the fact that until that moment things had been a little less than stellar, that i've struggled to make friends in this place so far from home, and that homesickness continues to be my closest friend here, no longer mattered. i'm in england baby! :)
the rest of friday was spent wandering under a sunny blue sky cut by a chilly wind. basically, katie and i chose a direction to head in, with an eventual goal (like ‘let’s get coffee somewhere this afternoon’), and went. neither of us were too worried about itineraries, or about getting lost, or even about what we saw--we just wanted to get out and see the city. this worked to our advantage, as we ducked into doorway after doorway of funky shops, followed roadside signs to flea markets and antiquey type stores, and visited every bookstore that we found. many were staffed by cheerful old men who greeted us with a “good day, ladies”, as we snuck past to wander through mazes of knick knacks, guitars, scarves, books for a quid, and lots of old naughty photos and accompanying books with intriguing titles like “the history of sex in britain”. i don’t know if it is because we stuck to slightly sketchy shops, but everywhere we went we found something vaguely pornographic. very strange, but funny after a while, because your only reaction is “really? here? weird.”
all shopped out, we paused for lunch at a local co-op store. sitting at the window bench, breaking into bread with fresh plums and cheese reminded me so much of lunches at harvest fresh with friends back at home. at least until we were politely informed that “customers don’t usually eat in the shop. but (‘don’t worry!’ was her tone) it’s okay this time!” apparently those stools weren’t meant to be used. whoops. time to make an exit, and head to the beach. so, we wandered down a gorgeous lane of houses, each a different shade of ice cream, to the sea, where we sat for several hours writing (me), sketching (katie), and watching the waves, people and sunset (both of us). perfect.
friday night we were joined by two other companions (claire and emily, both from linfield), and katie and i spent saturday showing them around to all of the fun places we had found. they got to see the royal pavilion, the artist’s quarter (where katie and i had spent most of our time on friday), we went out for coffee, and then wandered around to some different shops we hadn’t been to in search of warmer layers to protect us from the gale force winds and rain that had whipped up overnight. our last two days there were characterized by running for cover every 10 minutes and waiting for a downpour to pass by, or alternatively, bracing ourselves against some of the strongest winds i have ever experienced, topped off by brief breaks at the hostel to thaw and dry out. some storm watching, a lot of people watching, and a plate of the most delicious fish and chips i have ever eaten rounded out the last of our days in brighton. my only regret of the weekend is that i failed to get my feet wet in the english channel. i just might have to go back to brighton. and what a shame that would be. :)
that's all for now, friends. long it was... and hopefully entertaining as well. due to the sad reality that my camera decided to kick the bucket after taking a grand total of one picture in brighton... i will be posting some more “borrowed” pictures (like the one at the top) sometime soon. and stay tuned for details of my trip to london this coming weekend! i really could get used to this...
cheers!
b
whumph
swirl
chink
"three pound eighty, please" & "thank you my lady"
sit
soft leather bench & morning light
lift, sip
"mmmmm"; settle
foreign accents & friendly conversation
sip
chink
foam-cushioned bittersweet
liftsip
savor. slowly. & linger:
strong latte in a white china cup
a little disclaimer at the front: this is all based on my own personal experience and opinion, and isn't meant to be universalizing. cheers!
coming to england is an interesting experience being a 20 year old law-abiding american (yes, they do happen along occasionally). you are suddenly transported from the land of "NO! NEVER!" to the land of "YES! AND OFTEN!" when it comes to drinking alcohol. i always knew that drinking was a significant part of the social scene in britain, but i don't think i really understood what that meant: it's what they do. when we hang out at home, we go to someone's apartment and watch a movie or something... here, they go to the pub or the bar. it really is a part of culture.
the great thing about being here is: there is no pressure to drink. so unlike the united states, where there are not only expectations that you will before you're 21, but people push it on you and react oddly if you choose to disclose the fact that you haven’t drunk alcohol before. here, it is totally cool to tag along to the pub and not order anything. so far in my experiences, things are low key and the drinking is not the focus--socializing is. very refreshing.
however, being from the US, inexperienced with alcohol, and not really the "party" personality, the new openness with alcohol can be challenging. sometimes it feels like the only way to get to know people here is to either go out to a bar or (especially) a club. participation in these alcohol-associated activities seems key to meeting people here, and i haven't quite been able to reach that hurdle yet. i'm not really worried about it, but i do feel like i'm missing out on opportunities to meet british people just because that isn't really my thing.
that said, i am excited for the opportunity this trip is affording me to get over my personal hang-ups on alcohol. frankly, i have always felt a little afraid of alcohol, and was never really all that tempted to drink it. curious, yes, but not enough so to join the masses (pretty typical of how i operate, actually). now i have a chance to do so in a low pressure environment, which is great! but don’t worry: all of my aspirations of alcoholism (because i had so many) will likely fall short due to the reality of fairly shallow pockets. the occasional drink with friends though, hopefully in some fantastic pub, will have real potential now.
