to the last of the rainy days in London

Sunday night, coming down off my "market' high from earlier that morning, I decided to procrastinate and not study for exams. Instead I made an attempt to pack my bags. With each article of clothing, a memory of my time abroad flooded back, making packing all the more painful and frustrating. The jeans I arrived in, the shirt I wore in Dublin, the dress I bought in Portugal, the blouse I sweat a gallon of liquid in at my first real nightclub in London. How could I possibly pack all the memories and take them home with me? Especially when I was still ready to make so many more. I thought about what I would do when I got home, and all I saw was a blurry haze of work, GRE test prep, endless emails and phone calls, and cleaning my bathroom. The real world was slowly creeping back into my mind from the deep, dark cave I had banished it to on January 6th, and it looked more horrifying than I remembered. But what about my friends, my flat mates, the crazy group of people who had become my brothers, sisters, lovers?

Who will I drunkenly rave about Alexander Skarsgard with if Pa isn't there? Would I ever tell ridiculously stupid jokes with Jamie again? Would I ever walk out my door to find Pa Nhia waiting in line for the bathroom in the morning?  Who will I turn to for fashion inspiration without LC around? Will anyone ever be able to sleep with as many random items on their bed as Anna does? Who will entertain me with drunken sassy-ness when Lizzie isn't around? Who will take care of me when I'm obviously incapacitated on the tube if Amanda doesn't? If Katie L isn't there, who will bitch about GRE's and LSAT's? Whose cute love life can I creep on without Sara and Ben? Will I ever hear Max say words like "rage" and "clutch" again? Who will give me searingly sarcastic glares without Paige around? Who will make me laugh when John isn't around? Which one-day-celebrity will I hang out with if Karl isn't around? Will Brandon and I ever continue our debate about medical research on animals, and still be friends afterwords? Will I hear Matt Byers chant Hebrew again? Who else could understand the true meaning of "struggle bus" other than Brian? Who will be my ridiculously handsome gay friend without Sam? Who will invite me to killer coastie parties and wear designer sunglasses endlessly without Stavis around? Who will accompany me to killer coastie parties if Kovas is busy? Who will be down to have a great time with me, not matter what we do, if Katie T isn't there? Will I ever again hear the sound of Lauren's happy and contagious laugh coming from 2A? If Sean isn't there, who will make sure I get home from Camden music (excuse me, booze) tours? Where would I be without Ethan's witty film-buff comments and sarcastic remarks? Who will I borrow the best hair curler ever from if not Clare? Who else will I always find in pajamas if not Noel? Who will listen to all my crazy stories and still like me if Mandy isn't there? If Leigh isn't around, who will lay down the law and still look classy doing it? Who would have eaten a second dinner with me if Alyssa wasn't around? Who could I always turn to for a smile without Carolyn? Who can I count on for an interesting conversation if not Casey? Who will make my hand so tired from writing if Alaura doesn't give incredibly informative presentations in History of London? Who else will be the resident couple if Abbey and Chris don't live with me?  If I don't see Stephanie, who will make me feel like I need to burn my entire wardrobe and start over? Who else will admit they're too out of shape to run 10 blocks to War Horse if not Sam G? When party planning, who will come up with hilarious teenage games to play if Allie T isn't around? Whose incredibly cute J Crew clothes will I admire if Ariel isn't with  me? Who will battle creeper pics with me if not Katharine? Who will I talk dirty about boys with if Isabel isn't there? Who can I count on to look classy at theater performances and wear my high heels when my feet hurt if not Matt Apel?  Who else will share my love of models and my favorite movie if not for Sarah S?  Will I ever slip into the kitchen for a late night snack and convene with my gossip council again? Will I ever dodge piles of dog poop while walking down Gloucester, terrorized by bratty children on scooters and ruthless posh moms with strollers? Will I be able to go to Spain for a weekend trip, or visit Paris with the person I love most in the world? Will I ever have fun again?


What about my professors? Would I ever fear the questions of Mark Wheatley in screenwriting, so hung over I couldn't open my mouth for fear of vomiting? Would I ever watch John Makey chain smoke on a walking tour, or hear him make a sly comment regarding sex?  What about Josh and Mary? Would I ever go into Josh's office, intending to quickly sign up for a pound trip, but stay for 15 minutes gushing about Barcelona with him? Would Mary ever give another one of her famous lectures about cabs, weed, or "the washing up"? Would I ever hear Justin use the word "visceral" or talk about the Clash again? And what will I do without Steven, most beloved of the UW London Spring Semester professors, with his constant encouragement, his vivacious smile, vibrant sunglasses and down to earth personality? What will I do on Wednesday afternoons at 4:25? A POWER LECTURE? NOOOOOOOO!

Suddenly, screams erupted from the kitchen, echoing down the hallway with a menacing tone. I ran to find Leigh and Jamie squealing as Pa pulled something out of the cabinet with a dish towel. At first I couldn't tell what it was, and then the realization, and the smell, hit me. It was an entire loaf of bread, completely fuzzy green with mold, rotting in an open plastic bag. It smelled like a rat had eaten a feast of carbs and subsequently died. Screaming along with the crowd that had come to witness the spectacle, I had another thought. That bread could be my time here in London. Let a good thing go for too long and it starts to get moldy. All good things have an expiration date, and just like the food in London, it always seems too soon. It's probably best I'm leaving London on  high note, so that in my mind it will always remain my London, the London I knew and loved. The London I spent way too much money in. The London the best semester of my life was spent in. The London that let me embrace her, and the London that I made my own.

Adieu, London. Adieu!     

a sunny day wish list

One would assume that after three months of living in London, I would have done everything I wanted to do. Wrong. Living in London is like a complex math equation. Limited time, limited funds, yet unlimited experiences to be had add up to budget cuts, time crunches, and lost opportunities. If I could invent a time stretching machine, in which you could expand time in a frame, and if I could also be Warren Buffet's daughter, here is what I would have liked to do, but alas have not done.

1) gone on the London eye
2) meet a celebrity, preferably Keira Knightly, Colin Firth, Ben Kingsley, or Emma Watson
3) found a Joe Strummer and the Mescaleros record
4) break into Buckingham Palace and write nice messages on the queen's bathroom mirror, so that when the bathroom steams up, she'll see them
5) lost 10 pounds, instead of gained
6) danced with Prince Harry at a night club, and when he asks for a kiss, turn him down, but politely accept an invitation to the royal wedding
7) been on the top of the Eiffel tower: at night
8) walk into the Burberry store with nothing, walk out with a whole outfit, complete with purse and accessories
9) gone to Prague
10) gone to Vienna
11) visit Turkey
12) sunbathed in Greece
13) drink beer in Germany (probably Berlin)
14) gone to Bath
15) heard John Cooper Clarke speak
16) seen a musical
17) eaten at the Green House Restaurant
18) had more time to spend with Jacob
19) done a "famous rock n roll historical sites" tour of London
20) gotten my hair cut
21) partied in Amsterdam 
22) visited Brussels and Bruge
23) been discovered and become a fashion muse for any big name European designer  (Chanel, YSL, or Burberry wouldn't be half bad)
24)  rescued a puppy who would become our flat dog
25) spent less time sleeping and more time doing
26) shopped more during the sales at the very beginning of January
27) Visited Sweden and Norway
29) taken more photographs
29) not had to throw away so much moldy and rotten food
30) spent less time in the apartment, more time out in London
31) (probably my biggest wish/regret) met and been friends with British people

Although the list goes on and on, I'm incredibly grateful for the experiences I have had, and the time I spent abroad. Thinking about the future, which usually makes me nauseous and gives me a headache, I won't ever have an opportunity to do the things I've done in one semester ever again. I'll never be as young, and inexperienced, or with such a large disposable income ever again in my life. I've been lucky enough to have so many of my wishes granted. 

a rainy day tea party

 

A tea party? How quintessentially English! It was served promptly at 4, alongside scones, finger sandwiches, and, of course, a few pastries. Everyone was dressed to impress, and we all just stared in awe of each other for awhile, surprised how good we could all look if we only tried. Pinkies up everyone! After three cups of tea, each with a splash of milk and two sugar cubes, and plenty of delicious treats, it was time to go to the ballet. Watching graceful ballerinas twirl around the stage with perfect extension, their sparkling costumes sending glitter into our eyes while their silk shoes lifted effortlessly off the floor, a fundamental question drifted into my mind: is this my life?

And then I realized, my entire time in London I have been inhabiting someone else's life. A generous and mysterious fairy godmother came to me one night in January, turned a pumpkin into a plane ticket, and off I went to the best ball I’ve ever attended. I found my rags replaced by fashionable London clothing, and I no longer had to work. I danced the nights away in various pairs of slippers, and although none of them were glass, they were still magical. I was allowed entry into the elite world of foreign travel, fine dining, and leisure. I met a handsome prince who swept me off my feet, took me to Paris, and we lived as happily as any ever-after could ever be. I ate green beans, regularly, something I’ve never done before. I had a tan (for about 2 days, but still!). I walked across Abbey Road. I pet a Dalmatian in a fancy restaurant. Birds landed on my hand like I was a Disney princess. I met the most wonderful people, people I could never get sick of who were always around and ready for adventures. Another fairy godmother, Brit, would meet us on weekends and take us to magical places, telling us about all their wonderful secrets. A seemingly grumpy troll, Simon, would also lead us through the dark streets of London, but we soon discovered he wasn’t a grumpy troll at all, but a kind and gentle giant whom we’ve come to love dearly. I lived in a palace…well, I lived across from a palace in the nicest part of town. I took mini-break holidays to Spain. I lived like a princess.

            But the midnight hour of my ball approaches, and soon my fashionable clothes will turn back to work uniforms, my plane ticket will turn back into a pumpkin and I’ll be back in my old life. Worst of all, I’ll be found out. Everyone will know that wasn’t my life to live, that I never did anything to deserve the glamorous life of another. No, I have no evil step-mother or evil step-sisters. No, my father is still alive, and my prince charming knows my name. But never again will I get to have 4 o’clock tea in a fancy hotel, take weekend trips to ancient sites, or attend a ballet on a Wednesday. I won’t get to sit around and leisurely chat with friends. I won’t get to wake up early on Sundays for markets full of beautiful trinkets. But like Cinderella, I’ll always have my memories of the glorious ball I was never meant to attend, but by some miracle did.