Why I Need to Live In London, and Why I Never Will

“amazin iz it might seem this ordinary wurkn man got up wan day n wuz herd tay rimark thit it wuzny sitcha bad day tay be alive”

~Tom Leonard, Unrelated Incidents, (7)

It’s been a few weeks since I’ve gotten to London, and I’d like to take some time to reflect. 

Before coming, I had to complete cultural sensitivity training, which felt foolish because how different is British from American culture? As it turns out, the similarities make it that much weirder to be here. It’s like home, but just a little bit…off. Uncanny is the word I like to use.

And the people are not very kind. It really feels like everyone thinks I’m an idiot as soon as I open my mouth, but I’m getting used to it (as in, I don’t open my mouth much anymore). 

I was waiting in line at a bakery one day and was cut in line. The cashier, upon seeing this, exploded at the woman who cut me and vehemently urged that I go first, even after expressing that I was okay with it. 

The Brits love their lines, or queues, as they call them.

I went to Cambridge, which was beautiful, but boy, do those students have a collective stick up their ass. I thought we were bad. Maybe it’s because they aren’t allowed to walk on the grass within their campus; isn’t that crazy? Only senior lecturers are provided that privilege. I think it’s insanely elitist of them. But what can you expect?

I’ve visited many museums because England is said to have the best ones.

I wonder why.

But it is true, despite the fact that they obtained very little in an honest way. My favorite so far is the Victoria and Albert Museum, which has the most breathtaking exhibition of precious stones set as rings. I’m still thinking about them days later. When (if) I get proposed to, I think I’d rather a star sapphire than a diamond. 

Speaking of, I also went to see the crown jewels, which were incredible - and certainly have their own body count.

I feel as though I’ve done a lot of complaining, and I’d just like to clarify that I do love it here. Every building is interesting to look at, and full of history. It makes me feel smart being here, learning things. Do you know what a palimpsest is?

It’s a manuscript that’s been written over with something else entirely. I went to see early - like B.C. era - pieces of ancient Greek poetry that had been written over with Quranic scripture. 

!!!

Besides fueling my knowledge-based ego, the city just scratches an aesthetic itch for me. Let me paint a picture for you; I am sitting in a family-owned coffee shop, writing poetry for my creative writing course, and sipping on a flat white while the rain falls on cobblestone sidewalks. This is my life. It feels like I’m living a modern-day Jane Austen novel.

And then I get up for a coffee refill and realize I have absolutely no money left in my international account. And I come crashing back down into reality. Both my rent and transportation are covered by the College; if I were to stay here, I would be working every day, paying off debt and generally surviving. Weekend trips to Budapest would be less likely. And drinks would be less frequent.

But maybe that makes me more grateful for the time that I have now. When am I going to have an opportunity like this again? Never…which sucks, but what a waste of time to think that way. And then that makes me think, gosh, this is my peak in life.

But I don’t think it’s right to think that way either. More like, every day is going to be better than the last. Maybe in a different way, but better, nonetheless. And aren’t you curious about who you’ll be in, say, ten years? Twenty-five? I know I am. Because despite the pain of being away from family and friends here, I feel myself growing into someone new, a little more each day. Maybe she’s more independent. Maybe she’s louder. Maybe she’s in love. The point is, I’m very excited to wake up and meet her every morning.

She better have that sapphire ring.

Maybe she’ll buy it herself.

I often like to end this reflection process with an existential crisis, checking in on my position in this universe as of late and my trajectory at the moment. All of it is subject to change, which is scary, but also exciting. So where am I?

Twenty years old. More than halfway done with college. Three thousand miles from home. 

Fine. It’s a little nerve wracking. Nothing I can’t handle, though.

Where am I going?

I don’t know. 

And I used to think that was something I couldn’t handle. But since being here, since having all these experiences with no true companion but myself, I realize that no matter where I end up, I’m going to be okay, with this head on my shoulders that is constantly adapting to its surroundings. And I hope it never stops.

Maybe it’s harsh to say I’ll never live here. I think the point of saying it, besides getting your attention, is that what I’m getting out of this trip is going to come with me when I leave. 

London will have served its purpose, and I will move onto the next adventure.

Carpe diem…Carpe vita.