Blog 2: Not Even Three Weeks

The sun was out in Kensington Gardens

Walking down the street I began to realize how much in just less than three weeks I have been affected by my trip here. I wake up and the first thing I try to do is make myself culturally knowledgeable. I have been going through a list of some fifty-odd things the woman on the plane had told me to do while in England. Looking at artists’ work who I have always dreamt of seeing I came across a little girl, about eight or so, sitting cross-legged on the ground of the National Gallery with headphones in and her sketchbook and colored pencils in her lap.  Basically I looked down and saw myself and couldn’t help but sit and admire how she decided to spend her Sunday afternoon.  Many of us, including myself, have forgot to enjoy the little things that are so easy to access. I have come to a country that values its art whether pictorial, theatrical, or musical. Peers of mine are all attending the theater and orchestra, and this is not only just for fun but on a school night. At the National Portrait Gallery I took the time to read the placard in each room of all three floors to learn the history of British’s rulers, its switch from Protestant to Catholic rule, monarchy versus Parliament authority, and Britain’s part in Civil Wars, World War II, and the colonization of the world. If you know me, you know politics and history along with all the geography I have learned in planning my trips to all twenty-seven countries have never been an interest of mine. I would say I’ve feigned ignorance and now, I don’t know why I was so closed-minded. I have had my eyes opened and am very thankful for it.

This includes in respect to the literal meaning. With public transportation and no real need for a cell phone I walk down the street with my eyes up and scanning the sights. I study people on the tube and along the street and watch which side of the sidewalk they even walk on. People here like to go about their own business so I like to play a game and try to guess which is a tourist and who is British. Walking around the galleries where it is the most quiet I like to stand or sit still for a second just to listen to the accents and languages around me.  Everyone has a different style of dress and goes about looking at the art differently. Some get real close and seem to study every detail while others look from afar and others go back and forth from piece to description, and I really mean back and forth.  Some prefer to be silent clutching something in their arms while others point things out to their friends standing nearby. I have no problem going on my own into the galleries or into little bookshops or any place that catches my fancy.  I bought a book and am finding myself enjoying a book, that I actually picked out, for the first time. I never pick out books and if I do, rarely do I ever open them, let alone enjoy them.

So I spend a lot of time reading, thinking, and on the flipside have become fearless when needing to speak up. I can stop and ask for directions and speak with locals for advice and have found my ability to socialize to have increased. And thankfully I have been able to keep in touch with those from home thanks to their perseverance which I hope will continue into the upcoming months. I have already made some amazing friends with whom I have explored the city and will travel throughout Europe. I love learning people’s stories and can’t wait to learn and explore the world through their words and for myself. Three weeks ago I would never have thought I’d had this outlook. I am very thankful for my family for presenting me with such a life experience. This trip is for you and I can’t wait to share it in six months. I already have places I am dreaming of taking you and I promise to scour the city until I find the very best for you.

Travel itinerary to be posted soon.

Countries Visited: 1

Blog 1: Sweet Sorrows

University College London

If anyone had asked me months ago if I wanted to study abroad, I’d say “no.” Even after being pushed by my parents to turn in a last minute application I thought, I’ll make the decision later. Then upon acceptance I still thought, “who cares?” I was very happy with my life in Los Angeles and even more so after coming home Christmas break. I have my best friends in Los Angeles and my lifelong companions and family at home. As the days wore down to my departure, truth be told as the hours and minutes wore down, I still didn’t know how I felt. It wasn’t until I was ten pounds heavier, eating everything in sight, and no longer sleeping to have the energy to work off all I’d eaten, did I realize the stress I had put myself under. I did not know if this was right. I am still second-guessing this entire trip where I am isolating myself (almost abandoning or running from I could say) from everything I know . As I said goodbye to my last friends, heard I was left without housing and had secured only a hostel for two nights, I was told by my friend Rachel Sussman, “this really is an adventure.” So that is how I will look at it, just that: an adventure. Who will I meet, where will I go, can only be answered with experience and time. I want to be safe while going with the flow. Getting back to the difficulty it took to get me to where I am now, typing from my seat on the airplane, I have to say, I’m happy. This is only after the tears it took as I hugged my dad for the last time, looked at my grandmother for what may be the last time in my life, and the bawling I did as my mom and I laughed as we looked at each other and synonymously realized “we are one.” This epiphany may have only happened when I spoke on the phone with the overly excited mother of best friend Taylor Wildeson who wished her daughter had the opportunity I’d been given. Rachel Sussman told me that by staying in Los Angeles I was depriving myself of an opportunity to escape my bubble and become cultured and worldly. She is the one who convinced me to sign my name on the dotted line. And it was Karen Wildeson who told me I’d made the right choice.  I stopped shaking, put down my phone, and breathed for the first time waiting for my plane.  I made my last minute phone calls and then got in line to find my seat.  I’ll admit I’m judgmental and yes, a little shallow, and when I saw a woman sitting next to me who was a bit older, but not too old and who seemed well normal, I forgot how genuine these people are. I sat next to a “greenie” who works as an eco-friendly architect between London and San Francisco and I could not be happier to have sat next to someone who, well, was like me. She is in love with the arts, knows fashion yet is practical, likes to go out but keeps it at a manageable amount, and who is adventurous and loves exploring the outdoors from the River in London to the Highlands in Scotland. She and I spoke nonstop for four hours, luckily tiring me out by 9 pm California time, and she told me everything I needed to know from the arts, to shopping, to lodging, to groceries, to transit, and to commoner things. I know now the difference between a pub and a bar, beer and ale, US alcohol and UK alcohol. I know the meaning of “posh.” I know when to take the tube, the bus, footpaths, bridges, and which train station for which direction and what time to take all the above, safety included. I know how to obtain and “top up” my oyster card and that it can be used for the tube and bus. The English are much more brilliant than us Americans, everyone knows it but won’t admit Europeans are just ahead of it all, and they have a bike card where you can take a bike, use it, and park it somewhere else to be used by another stranger nonetheless. The English and all Europeans along with their culture will fascinate me, but as a disclaimer I will speak of things so highly in comparison only due to excitement as I am an American through and through. I’ll miss America very much and everything unplanned and fatty that comes with it (I’m kidding?), but now it’s off to London and a new chapter in my life. Wish me luck