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.

family togetherness

My family is one of the rare kinds that actually really all likes each other. Everyone says, "love you," when we talk on the phone, we still eat family meals together, and not a day goes by that I don't at least call a family member. So the thought of me moving to a different country for several months is a shock to the system for us all. Add to this shock the fact that I chose not to live at home this summer, and I'm surprised my Dad hasn't suffered cardiac arrest.

That being said, my family decided to plan bonding activities during the two week stretch of time I'm home this summer. Last night's activity (my idea!) was a picnic dinner and outdoor concert tickets at the lovely Saratoga Performing Arts Center- one of my favorite places in New York. Sure maybe the Allman Brothers Band with the Doobie Brothers doesn't draw the most family-friendly crowd, but it's something we all enjoy.  Or it would have been, if it didn't downpour rain.

Just as the Doobie Brothers started warming up the crowd, the sky opened up and the blackest clouds I've ever seen dropped buckets of rain on our umbrella-less, raincoat-less, uncovered group. We wound up using my Grandmother's homemade quilt (previously our picnic blanket) as a tent (see above: dad, sister, and my legs). People were sliding through the mud and more than one mud wrestling fight broke out. Even though we left early, the memory of it- just like the mud stain in Grandma's quilt- is one we won't be getting rid of for awhile.

side note

I like all sorts of books, but especially ones that are known for being good. I like to read the books everyone's heard of and knows they're supposed to read, and I'm (slowly) making my way through Time's Top 100. So for three or four lovely hours this afternoon, during some unexpected time off, I finally read outside on the grassy Syracuse quad. And I lay like this, stretching out under the hot August sun, hoping to tan my body, which, having spent the summer working 7am-7pm, has little to show for itself during these months of "freedom" except a mild caffeine addiction. 

In the early pages of On the Road, I came across some lines that really resonated with me, reminding me of late college nights spent exploring with new friends, on the other side of town, where I'm not familiar with the street names or faces:

"I shambled after as usual as I've been doing all my life after people that interest me, because the only people that interest me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones that never yawn or say a commonplace thing... but burn, burn like roman candles across the night."

In typical side note fashion, this post has no relevance to my upcoming trip to Europe- but good writing is something that sticks with you, and should be shared with others. Enjoy.