The end?

Well here we are. The last blog post.

I've been avoiding this.

I arrived in Seattle, safe and sound, late Saturday night. Marysville is as dreary as ever, but I've enjoyed reuniting with my family and friends. Missing London like mad.

A few thank you's are in order:

1. To my lovely homestay. I couldn't have asked for a better family to live with.

Esme & Belle, Suzan and Bubbles

2. Peter, Tom, Jessica, and Mike (and the UW English Department): for organizing and teaching this wonderful program.

Jessica and Peter in Regent's Park

3. The entire group. Missing you all very much. 

All of us at Hampton Court

4. My friends and family back home. Thank you for all the support and love. Hope to see you very soon. 

And if you've enjoyed following this blog, you may be interested in following my other blog, Metacognitive Potential. Silly title, I know. But the blog's two years old now and I can't bear to change it. I mostly write about books and other nerdy subjects. Whatever strikes my fancy. 

Although I've reached the conclusion of my study abroad trip, this is not the end. London and I are not finished. Someday I will be back, perhaps on a more permanent basis. Until then, my dear city. Until then.

Much love,

L

Goodbyes

a series of vignettes

Wednesday: In my excitement, I forget to say goodbye to 6 Great James Street. My final exam turned in, I rush out of the classroom and into the afternoon sunlight. Several of my classmates are lingering on the corner of Great James St. and Theobald's Road. Next to the Cafe Nero. 

On our way back to Holborn Station, we discuss Art & Architecture exam. Who sculpted the man and python statue? Lord Layton. About what time period was Stonehenge constructed? Around 2000 BC? We're unsure. How does this older photograph of Trafalgar Square differ from how it appears today? There are significantly less tourists in the older picture. Cheeky. We are lighthearted and amiable and done. Class finished.

We part ways at the station, exchanging see-you-tomorrows and good-luck-with-that-last-paper. Ticket through the barrier, a descending escalator toward the Piccadilly line. I am swept up in the rhythm of the underground. 

I forget to say goodbye.

Thursday: We begin to trickle out of the Fentiman Arms in groups of two or three. Tom, Jessica, and Mike have already said goodbye, leaving Peter Professor Peter, not to be confused with tall Peter to finish the end-of-term party with us.

Everyone hugs. This is the last day of the term and tomorrow we disperse. Some return to Seattle, some remain in England, and some continue travelling throughout Europe. I remember the anxiety I experienced at the beginning of the trip. Would I make friends? Would we get along? How would the group interact? My worries seem silly now; I am completely attached to these people.

Stephanie and I walk back to Oval Station. It's past eleven yes we'll still make the tube but the evening is warm and still. My tender parting with Peter professor is running through my head. I try to memorize the evening.

I've said more goodbyes than I can count.

Friday: As I near Piccadilly Circus, I realize that this will be the last time I see Central London. At least  for now. My pace slackens as I try to absorb the city, the tourists, the Londoners, the Nash buildings, the Jubilee preparations, the flags, the illuminated signs.

Too quickly, I reach the stairs leading down to the Underground. I pause and take one last glimpse of the city my home away from home. I take the stairs slowly, one step at a time. Reluctantly.

Goodbye London. Until next time.

~L

Three thoughts

• If my feeling attachment love affection for this city were audible, it would sound like "Nimrod" from Elgar's Enigma Variations.

• It's the first of June, and I've had a passage from Mrs. Dalloway stuck in my head all day. 

"Such fools we are, she though, crossing Victoria Street. For Heaven only knows why one loves it so, how one sees it so, making it up building it round one, tumbling it, creating it every moment afresh; but the veriest frumps, the most dejected of miseries sitting on doorsteps (drink their downfall) do the same; can't be dealt with, she felt positive, by Acts of Parliament for that very reason: they love life. In people's eyes, in the swing, tramp, and trudge; in the bellow and the uproar; the carriages, motor cars, omnibuses, vans, sandwich men shuffling and swinging; brass bands; barrel organs; in the triumph and the jingle and the strange high singing of some aeroplane overhead was what she loved; life; London; this moment of June." 

- Virginia Woolf, Mrs. Dalloway (page 2)

• I have never been this unmotivated to pack before. As evidenced by the fact that I am blogging, instead of packing and/or sleeping. 

The Great Packing Failure of June 2012

~L