little things

Homesickness comes in waves. Every once in awhile I suddenly realize that I can't go home for months. At school, going home is always an option. I'm so used to calling home when I'm walking somewhere around campus or on my way to grab coffee, but I can't just check-in quick here. When conversations with loved ones are so few and far between, the smaller details often get left out and the trivial parts of one another's lives become tiny mysteries, not detrimental to a relationship but adding up to make a kind of space that didn't used to be there. E-mails and Skype calls stick to the basics: what did you do? are you okay? is everyone healthy? So now I know my sister starts a new year at work, but I can't help her decide what to wear. My friends say everything in Syracuse is the same, but I don't know if they ordered cookies at 2am or who they're looking up on Facebook. 

I've had to get around 20 new room keys at my hotel because I keep putting it by my phone and deactivating it, I have four blisters, and last night I ordered sausage pizza at 3am and it was one of the best pizzas I ever had- although we got a super large and it was only 8 tiny slices. I won't remember to tell you those kind of things when we talk again, but it makes me feel less separated to have you know now.

drinking with British boys

Most of the Syracuse program went out to local pubs near the hotel (Shakespere's Head and O'Neils) together Tuesday and Wednesday night, so come last night a fair share decided to stay in. I can order a pizza and watch a movie in America but I can't wander the streets of London or drink a pint of Guiness there, so obviously I did not join them.

After taking a cab to a "bar/club" that wound up only having a dozen or so people drinking casually, my future roommates and I wandered past shops and closed restaurants for blocks. Things were looking pretty grim when we came upon what must have been the theatre district, lit-up by a Dirty Dancing poster and the Lion King musical's venue. When it seemed like our night out was doomed, we turned the corner and found a small but busy pub filled with music, young 20-somethings, AND cheaper pints! 

We were about to settle in to a little table, when we got up the nerve to go talk to some locals. Thank goodness for liquid courage! Our new friends were completely cool with the fact that we know nothing about their country. I expected the Brits to be a bit snotty, cold, and unwilling to give directions or recommend restaurants, but these guys invited our whole group to sit down, bought us a round, and took out a map. They circled all the spots we should see while we're here, then got out our Tube map and showed us how to get there. 

Before we left, they asked how long we were visiting for. "We'll be here until December," we told them. "You're not tourists," one said. "You're residents now."

first impressions

London is beautiful. The people are like the buildings- classic and charming with a sense of style that makes you feel as though you have to be dressed up. Everything is just a little bit fancier, even McDonalds makes fresh deli sandwiches and Pizza Hut has cafe-style outdoor seating. The accents here are adorable, and so far everyone has been very helpful when I've had to ask for directions (which is often) or when I got confused with the currency (one pound coins look so much like nickels to me!)

I feel very guilty for it, but after three days here I still haven't seen any major landmarks. Our days have been filled with orientation activities and trying to find a flat to stay in these next few months. Mix in our jet-lag, the after-effect of going to pubs every night, the fact that we're living out of suitcases and having to dine out for all our meals, and trekking it to Big Ben just hasn't seemed plausible yet. 

Once I move in Sunday, I plan to get started seeing the sights and learning the city. Finding a flat in London was simple. By the first night here it seemed obvious which friends clicked, so getting roommates wasn't hard even though I didn't come over with any of my closest friends. On noon on Wednesday we contacted a highly-recommended landlord, fell in love with the first flat he showed us, checked out a few more places, and by 2 we were enjoying a celebratory lunch. Brilliant!

planes, trains, and automobiles

Deciding to go to London was easy. Getting here was not. Apart from all the preliminary things, like getting my passport and visa and tickets, there was the basic issue of getting to the airport. We drove to the bus station, I took a bus from Albany to New York, had to walk (with all my luggage!!) to a different station, wait, take a bus to Newark- only to find out that it wasn't going to the airport, just Newark. From there I walked around for awhile (still carrying the luggage) until I realized where I was, got a cab, made it to the airport, and waited over four hours to get on the plane. My arms ached halfway through the day. The flight was long and the crowded seats made it hard for me to sleep, so as excited as I was to get here, I nodded off a bit on the bus ride to the hotel- missing my first sights of London. Luckily, my first few British hours aren't characteristic of the trip. After a nap and shower, we were having an orientation dinner and discovering the pubs. Cheers!

SUCCESS

This just in: I am wonder woman. 

Everything fits! I have even managed to pack my winter coat! All the things in my "maybe" pile have now been upgraded to "packed" and, amazingly, I have room left over and 20 pounds to go before I reach the weight limit! Space bags are the eighth world wonder.

packing, continued.

Preparing to leave for London is like trying to sprint a marathon. It's a million different things all at once. It's to-do lists, to-pack lists, to-remember lists that never end. It's five different notebooks of reminders. For two days, I've had the feeling you get when you drink too much coffee in a short period of time and then everything you do happens in rapid, uncoordinated movements. I buzz. There are things to buy, things to clean, and obviously things to pack. On top of this, there are also goodbyes to be said and precious leisure time to be had with people I won't see for months. 

With just a few days left to go before the big send-off, I'm finally starting to accomplish things. My bags are nearly packed and most my errands have been finished. Bit by bit, I'm crossing things off the list. My plane ticket came in, my visa had been issued, and my passport returned. If all else fails, come Monday morning I will still have the basic things I need to start this European excursion. That's good enough for me.

packing, part 1

Today I made my first attempt to pack. It failed. Before I walked into the guest bedroom where I've been keeping all my things for a week, I felt pretty confident that packing would be a breeze. After all, I left most of my belongings and clothing in Syracuse so I wouldn't need to worry about sorting through everything. Two main problems gave me false confidence that I could pack quickly: 1) I didn't realize just how much I brought home, and more importantly 2) I didn't realize just how little fits in two suitcases. 

Packing part 1 unfolded like this: I walked into the room, really looked at the heaps and mounds of things piled in there, turned around, left, and shut the door tight behind me.

There's always tomorrow.