Jenny's blog

Dear London,
 
I haven’t even left you and I am missing you already. You have been so good to me.  While my time with you wasn’t always easy, you made me better. You introduced me to wonderful people, helped me try new things, and pushed me to be the person that I really want to be.

When I first met you, I was timid, uncertain, and didn’t really know what I was doing with my life. But you showed me what the world has out there for me. You showed me the good, the bad, the beautiful, and the ugly. You taught me how the world is so rapidly changing. I caught a glimpse of your riots, experienced the occupation at St. Paul’s, and have watched a crisis unfold from the doorstep of Europe.  You gave me the chance to travel and an appetite to see the world. You also taught me how to slow down a bit and just relax…something I was never good at.  You made me confident. Though I am still not exactly sure where I am going in life, I am sure of myself and my aspirations.

We did have quite a bit of fun together. You sure do know how to have a good time. Though I may not fully recollect what we did some nights, I know it was fun. I will miss your pubs, though they close too early. I wont miss your cabs…they are just too expensive. I will miss the Tube; it’s fast, clean, and so polite, as the voice over the intercom kindly tells me to “Mind the gap.” I will miss your people; they are a lively bunch.  I won’t miss the mess that is Oxford Street. I will really miss Marks & Spenser’s. Where else can you go grocery shopping and buy yourself some knickers, all in the same place? I will miss your Pret a Manger. I know we have them in New York, but they just aren’t as delicious there. I wont miss your exchange rate that has bee so unkind to my bank account. I will miss getting lost in all your museums and wandering aimlessly in your beautiful parks. I will miss all your nooks and crannies and little places that I have found to call my own.

I am very sad to leave you. I have even contemplated ways that I may violate the parameters of my visa and evade the UK border agency.  But it is time to go home. I miss New York City and all the wonderful people that I love back home. This isn’t a goodbye; it’s more of a “see you later.” I know I will see you again. I could never forget you. You are a special place. I look forward to seeing how much you have changed when I return.  I know I will be quite different myself. So London, thanks for everything.  It has been wonderful.
 
Until next time,
 
Jenny





(The picture shown is my own)

Choosing NYU London wasn’t fully a decision of my own. I essentially chose London because it was the only site that would satisfy my major requirements. I was initially hesitant about studying abroad half-heartedly. But I told myself, “better to study abroad than not study abroad at all.” Now, at the end of the semester, I find myself in love with this place. I haven’t even left and I can’t wait to get back. If I had discouraged myself from going to London with my preset notions, I would have missed out on an experience of a lifetime.

So to anybody who may be teetering on the idea of whether to study abroad or not, JUST DO IT. No matter where you go, the chance to experience life, cultures, and ideas outside U.S. borders is an eye-opening adventure.

Now, for anyone who plans on studying in London, I recommend that they extend the Nike “Just do it” motto to all aspects of their life in the U.K. Throughout my time here, I have never regretted doing something new rather than sitting in my comfort zone.  
 
I hate “must do” lists. Part of studying abroad is making your own “must do list.” But to anyone who studies here, here are just a few aspects of London life that cannot be missed:
 
The British Pub: Pub life is a huge part of the culture here. Get out there and drink good beer, meet great people, and have fantastic conversation.  The best part is that it is for everyone. If you walk into a neighborhood pub (not a tourist-infested pub by Trafalgar Square) and you will find an array of university students, professionals, and retired folks- all enjoying a pint in the same friendly atmosphere.
 
The Museums: Do them and do as many as you can. They are fantastic and most of them are free! I have probably been to about 10 different museums/cultural sites thus far, and I am still trying to cram in the rest on my list before I leave.
 
The Parks: Hyde Park puts Central Park to shame- and that is just one of the countless public parks and gardens that populate this city. This city is a very green city and the parks here are shared and enjoyed by everyone.
 
The Evening Standard: Read it. It’s free and you can pick it up every evening outside of any Tube station. It’s amusing and so quintessentially British. My picture this week, one of the headlines from the paper, is an example of its sensational take on news. Tabloid news is very popular with Brits.
 
Walk: Walk everywhere. London is a bit spread out and sometimes difficult to navigate. But once you get your general sense of direction, walking is the best way to see the city. London’s range or architecture is amazing and you will find the best places by just wandering about. My wanderings have brought me to beautiful garden squares, quirky hat shops, and musty used bookshops.
 
The Rest of the U.K.: Yes, there is more to the U.K. than just London. While it is tempting to jet off to some exotic European city for the weekend, don’t forget about the rest of the U.K. Go to Oxford or Cambridge to get a taste of University life. Venture outside of England- to Scotland, Ireland or Wales. The cultures, ideas, and accents all vary from place to place. Get an idea of what life is like in the rest of the U.K. while you are living here.
 
From living in the U.K. for three and a half months, I have learned to love it and all its quirkiness. Though I have attempted to explain it in past posts, the U.K. is quite inexplicable. This place holds so many different people and so many different ideas, that you can never truly know it unless you live here.
 
So to anyone who is thinking about studying in the UK: Just do it. Do everything. You wont regret it, I promise.

I had always felt somewhat sheltered growing up in the United States. Though the U.S. is still arguably one of the world’s most modern and progressive countries, it hangs on to a sense of isolation. I remember that throughout my elementary school education, I was only exposed to the world in an American context. We had no foreign language education and our history lessons were primarily based on the history of the United States.  Looking back now, it was such a close-minded system. It even seems a bit pretentious in a way.  When we share this world with 7 billion people and 190-something other nations, why should we only know the history and culture of our own nation?
 
 While the U.S. is still a major global power, globalization is stripping it of is singularity and influence. As a result, the U.S. seems to be having an identity crisis. If we aren’t number one, where is our place in the world? This shifting of influence shouldn’t be viewed as the downfall of America, but rather as the advancement of the world as a whole. Today, we are so well connected with the rest of the world. We receive news instantly, we have no difficulty in communicating with somebody on the other side of the globe, and we can travel long distances with relative ease. We are witnessing a revolutionary era of emerging economies. Though there are many countries that are struggling to develop, as a whole the world is changing at an incredible rate.
 
Since leaving the U.S., I have realized just how small our world really is. London itself is a product of globalization. It is an incredibly diverse and cosmopolitan city. The majority of the people I have met here speak more than one language. Many hail from a different country and posses an incredible global perspective. While there are many diverse areas within the United States, I think many Americans lack this global perspective. Some seem to cling to the identity of American power and singularity and we haven’t fully freed ourselves from our isolated views. From our earliest educational experience, we do not receive the global exposure which is critical to understanding the world outside  U.S. borders.
 
Through my experiences abroad, I have come to realize just how important it is to understand the people we share our world with. We are far beyond the antiquated era of isolation. The world is opening up, borders are diminishing, and people’s lives are becoming entangled in an ever-growing web of globalization. As I have learned from one of my favorite rides at Disney World, "It’s a small world after all"…. And it keeps getting smaller.

As I’m sure we all have experienced throughout this semester, it can be very difficult to burst the proverbial “NYU bubble.” We feel the influence of the NYU bubble at the Washington Square Campus, but it seems that its gravitational force increases exponentially when studying at an NYU site abroad. We are in a completely new place, yet we are surrounded by an American college community. This is an easy comfort zone, which makes us feel at ease in our new home. This comfort makes it that much harder to break out and experience life outside the bubble; life that is defined by the people and cultures of the country in which we reside. I know many people who have stayed inside the bubble and haven’t formed any relationships with Londoners. And by relationships, I don’t mean with those random people one may meet at a bar or pub, whom they will never speak to again.

When I came to London, I feared becoming trapped by the bubble and initially, I was. The first group of friends I hung out with (though all very fun and awesome people), were very much in and of the NYU bubble. We socialized primarily amongst the NYU community and when we went out, we went out to places that were popular amongst American study abroad students. Before I new it, the novelty of being abroad wore off and. I felt like I was back in New York. Needless to say, this got old very quickly, and I sought a truly authentic experience abroad.

I was fortunate enough to meet two girls who happened to share in my views on the NYU bubble. It is much easier to burst the bubble when you are not alone, and in the company of great people. So, with my two new friends, I burst out of the NYU bubble. We ventured to the more obscure neighborhoods of London, we went to places where we were the only Americans, and we met and befriended some wonderful people who were not from NYU. Ever since, I truly feel like I have been making the most of my experience abroad and have never been happier.

The great thing about studying abroad is that you meet people from NYU that you never would have met back in New York. Coming from different schools and different social circles, I would have never met these two amazing girls who have helped make my semester abroad unforgettable. Without their help, I may still be stuck in the bubble, unaware of how I could have been having a truly authentic and amazing London experience. 

“As one saunters towards the sunset—and what with artificial light and mounds of silk and gleaming omnibuses, a perpetual sunset seems to brood over Marble Arch—the garishness and gaudiness of the great rolling ribbon of Oxford Street has its fascination” (Woolf, 26).  Just as Virginia Woolf so expressively illustrates, this was how the great rolling ribbon of Oxford Street appeared to me. However I was not blissfully sauntering, but rather hastily weaving through a sea of shoppers, businesspeople, and tourists as I was on a mission to find the very text that I am quoting.
 
I was informed by a librarian at the UL’s Senate House Library that Virginia Woolf’s, The London Scene, had mysteriously disappeared within the abyss of the closed stacks. I then proceeded to unsuccessfully rummage through five different bookstores in the Bloomsbury area. Apparently no bookstore in Bloomsbury, Virginias Woolf’s own neighborhood, had a copy of her essay collection on London.
I finally located the only store in London with the text in stock and ventured down to the dreaded Oxford Street.
 
 I hate crowds; therefore I do not like Oxford Street. I hate being corralled amongst herds of human cattle, tripping over rolling suitcases and bumping into people who think it is an excellent idea to stop, without warning, in the middle of the sidewalk in order to take a picture.
 
In the end, I managed to escape the madness of Oxford Street without injury and with a copy of The London Scene in hand. Though this small collection of essays is comparable to the size of a children’s book, it was well worth the price of 9 pounds and a half-day spent scurrying about London.
 
What was most striking to me about the collection, was not just how accurate Virginia Woolf’s  witty depiction of this city is, but how it has managed to maintain an  eccentric sense of timelessness. Virginia Woolf wrote these essays in 1931 for Good Housekeeping magazine, yet she may have been writing them last week. It seems that she had an astonishing foresight when she composed these essays.  Or perhaps such correlation speaks of the timelessness of the city itself.
 
Woolf describes St. Paul’s Cathedral as a place where, “death and corruption of death are forbidden to enter. Here civic virtue and civic greatness are ensconced securely” (53). The echo of these worlds still reverberates, as St. Paul’s currently serves as the base of the Occupy London movement. Throughout the protests, St. Paul’s has refused to take any forceful action to remove the protestors, at the cost of lost tourist revenue. Many high figures of the church have even expressed support and sympathy towards the movement, ensuring that, as Woolf expressed, “civic virtue and civic greatness are ensconced securely.”
 
Even Woolf’s opinion on the members of Parliament is strikingly similar to how some may view today’s MPs. Woolf explains, “with their chatter and laughter, their high spirits, and impatience and irreverence, they are not a wit more judicious, or more dignified, or more respectable-looking than any other assembly of citizens met to debate parish business or give prizes for fat oxen” (65). I suppose politicians are always the same, no matter what era they serve.
 
But what Woolf seems to do best is capture the true spirit of London (the “Genius Loci”, if you will). She harnesses the energy of the city by gauging the ebb and flow of society. She understands London to be an ever-transient place, one of excitement and sensation. She says,  “The delightful thing about London was that it was always giving one something new to look at, something fresh to talk about” (82). I cannot make an argument against this case. I have been here for almost three months. While I feel comfortably at home in this town, I am constantly jolted by some new sensation or happening. I knew I was in love with London, but I didn’t quite understand why until after I careened down the “ribbon of Oxford Street” to find Virginia’s answer.
 
 
 

It’s hard to get over the London-New York association. London is A LOT like New York. It’s a bustling cosmopolitan center of commerce and culture. On the streets you see a of diversity of people, hear the chatter of dozens of different languages, and smell the spices of different cuisines. Even the museums are flooded by the works of different cultures. One of my professors said jokingly, “Everything under the roof of the British Museum is stolen.” This statement certainly has its truth to a certain extent.

This all is not to say that London cannot claim its own cultural identity. Yet it can be a bit challenging to find the true “genius loci” of London. When I look for the spirit of London, I look past the tea drinking, fish and chips eating, and Queen loving stereotypes that first pop into your head when you think about the people and the place. London is so much more than that.

The “genius loci” of London is complicated. You are not overwhelmed by the singularity of some strong, certain feeling, but rather you are assaulted with a hodgepodge of diverse senses and ideas. London stands on a layered foundation of profound history, that spans from the conquest of the Roman Empire to modern globalization. This layered history is embodied by the layered architecture of the city. Modern skyscrapers tower over Gothic churches. Beautiful Georgian town homes are neighbored by plain, late-20th century buildings that typically stand in the place of that which the Blitzkrieg destroyed. The immensity of the House of Parliament (as seen in my photo) is eclipsed by the ever-turning London Eye. Winding streets of chaos are interrupted frequently by the countless garden squares that serve as peaceful retreats from urban life.

However this architecture only fulfils the visual sense of the “genius loci.” There is an aura of London that is truly unique. While most of this sleepy town is closed before midnight, the city still pulsates with a constant energy and excitement. Enduring history does not clash, but flows with the flourishing modern society. The English culture has been fused with an array of global cultures, without losing its lasting influence. Traditions of monarchy are upheld while a modern democracy commands global influence. Such balance of conventionally opposing forces creates a sort of equilibrated multiplicity, which permeates London’s atmosphere.

The “genius loci” of London is easy to feel, but quite difficult to discern. Through varying architecture, people, and ideas, London is defined by the diversity of other cultures. While the “stolen” contents of the British Museum epitomize centuries of global influence and conquest, there still remains an overarching spirit that is unmistakably British. Yet the definition of “British” is ever transient. What it means to be British is constantly evolving with rapid and globalized modernization, while still managing to maintain meaningful and historic institutions.

This all being said, I still may not completely know London’s “genius loci,” but I certainly still feel its distinct presence, which can be felt in no other place but London.

Just a couple of blocks off Euston Street, you can find a shabby brick building with a green facade. It’s managed to find a quiet niche in which to settle itself, amongst the bustling of the surrounding, well-travelled streets.  A bright, white awning reaches over rod iron tables and chairs that twist into whimsical floral patterns. The words “Patisserie Deux Amis” are playfully painted on the large, sunny window in a happy script.

Everyone has their own “place,” in the big city or small town in which they live. It may be a quaint shop, a friendly bar, or a warm coffee shop. Whatever that place may be, you take pride in your place. You know the people, they know you, and you feel more than just a customer. You love to take your friends to this amazing place you know, so that it might become their place as well.  You take comfort in this place and always feel at ease. It’s more than just a place… it’s your place.

Patisserie Deux Amis is my place in London. It’s a small place with only 6 tables. The tables are draped with white, lacey tablecloths and are surrounded by a hodgepodge of antique wooden chairs. The antique medley continues atop the tables, with a jumble of daintily porcelain sugar bowls and shabby silver. The back wall of the place is made of pleasantly framed windows, which look out to a modest, yet charming garden. The counter is adorned with elaborate towers of pastries and sandwiches, which look too perfect to eat, but are too delicious to resist. The high-pitched ring of the antique register sings throughout the café every time the drawer springs open. Across from the register is a shelf, stocked with an assortment of fresh breads, which are used to make sandwiches or sold directly to customers.

It’s hard to tell whether it is the hand-painted china cups or the warm smiles that greet you, that make the coffee here taste so good. It’s nice to enjoy a carefully made cappuccino, in a pretty cup, handed to you by a friendly face. It makes coffee drinking a happy experience, far from the chaos of Starbucks in which a cardboard cup, marked with your incorrectly spelled name, is shoved into your hand as you rush out the door.

It’s nice to be a bit lazy sometimes. Patisserie Deux Amis is my lazy place. When I have a free afternoon, with no particular plan or sense of direction, I usually find myself at my place, sitting contently on a wobbly wooden chair with a book in one hand and a cappuccino in the other. 

Back in the States a typical college student’s Thursday is typically associated with the consumption of alcohol in celebration of the coming weekend. Since coming to London I have put a more constructive spin on my Thursdays (though I typically still find myself at a pub by the end of my Thursdays). Thursdays have become my official museum day. I strategically arranged my schedule so that I only have class Monday through Wednesday, leaving me with a nice four-day weekend. However most of my friends have class Thursdays, so I am usually left with a day that is all my own. So, every Thursday I venture to one of London’s museums.

London museums are numerous, first-rate, and usually free.  Like in most cities, the museums of London play a crucial role is representing the city in which they stand. London museums do not only present all that is English. The city’s history is not so simple. The museums exhibit the unique blending of cultures within London and Great Britain, from its very beginnings to present day.

The British Museum houses many of the relics that were obtained by the once vast British Empire. Its Asian and African collections are not merely examinations of another culture, but also tell the story of an age of colonization. When wandering through the British Museum, one can grasp how expansive the British Influence was, as many of the exotic artifacts were acquired through conquest. The Rosetta Stone, perhaps the crowning piece of the British Museum, not only carries the history of the ancient Egyptian script, but carries the history European conflict. The Rosetta Stone was first discovered by Napoleon’s army, and then turned over to the British after his defeat. While the Rosetta Stone was critical in the understanding of hieroglyphics, it was also at the center of one of history’s greatest power struggles.

Themes of global influence are continued in the Victoria & Albert Museum. However, this theme is also reversed, as the museum exhibits how global cultures have influence the British as well. The museums vast collection of furniture includes several Japanese-inspired Victorian pieces that exemplify the influx of ideas from Japan, which had just opened itself to the world. There are also several pieces of furniture, which were crafted in India for consumption in Great Britain, which illustrate Britain’s exploitation of Indian resources during its occupation.

The Wallace Collection, a small collection housed in a beautiful Georgian townhome, at first appears to be a purely English Museum. However, on exploring the collections, it is soon discovered that much of the work is not British at all. The furnishings of the home reflect the great French influence on design. Many of the paintings, sculptures, and serveware are also French. While there are of course some English pieces, much of the work is everything but. The collection includes Italian Renaissance art, Spanish and Dutch paintings, and Sevres French porcelain.

The most prominent theme of the museums of London is not English history alone, but also the intermingling of British cultures with others. This is not to say that the British culture is lacking in its own identity. British culture is made more complex and diverse through it’s globalized history. While there are many controversies about the British influence on other nations and its negative effects, there is no denying that Britain has shaped how we all interact with foreign cultures. As our world is rapidly globalizing today, it seems that Great Britain sparked this monumental phenomenon and promoted the blending of cultures. 

In New York, a tourist is bombarded by inauthentic airs of what it means to be a “New Yorker.” “I Love New York” t-shirts, dirty water hotdogs, the bright lights of time square, horse carriage rides in Central Park, etc…. I think we all acknowledge that theses things which are widely viewed and quintessentially New York in the eyes of tourists, are far from what we believe to be truly New York. 
 
Such is the problem in any major metropolis, including London. Trafalgar Square is lined with “authentic” British Pubs, which boast signs that read “Tourists Welcome!” Authenticity can be a challenge to find when you are presented with all the allures of what Talcott Parson calls “front areas” (Macannell, 589). As strangers in a new place, we desperately try to seek out the “back rooms” (And by back rooms we do not mean those sketchy back rooms on Canal Street where you go to buy the “real” fake designer handbags). These back rooms are what we consider to be purely authentic experiences. Nobody wants to be the tourist with the fanny pack and the perfectly white sneakers, who feels compelled to snap a photo in the middle of busy sidewalk. Personally, I feel tempted to run those people over. I loathe tourists and I hate being one.
 
Though I suppose that we all must go through a bit of a tourist phase whenever we arrive in a new place. We need the maps and the guidebooks to acclimate ourselves. You need to see Buckingham Palace and Big Ben, no matter how many tourists swarm these attractions. But when all of that is said and done, we have the ardent desire to rid ourselves of our proverbial fanny packs and become a “local”. Macannell explains, “the term ‘tourist’ is increasingly used as a derisive label for someone who seems to be content with his obviously inauthentic experiences” (592). With such a negative stigma attached to tourists, I don’t think anyone would have the desire to be one (unless they really like fanny packs).
 
The more time you spend in a place, the easier it is to gain entry into the “back rooms.” When I first arrived in London, I relied heavily on a map and went to the front areas which my guidebooks led my to.  I even went on one of those painfully touristy boat cruises on the Thames (as depicted above). But after breaking out of this touristic phase, I began to feel like I belonged in the back areas. I have found pubs with not a tourist in sight, I have befriended some fantastic Londoners, and I have discovered an authentic London.
 
I may even go so far as to say I feel like a Londoner myself. I don’t claim that I am truly a Londoner by any means, but at times my authentic experiences lead me to I feel as though I might be one. I have found that there is no set definition of a Londoner. London is a very cosmopolitan city and Great Britain is rapidly diversifying. Being British no longer requires one to fill the WASP stereotype. In one of my classes, the Professor discussed how the recent influx of different cultures over the past several decades has redefined what it means to be British. The fact that one is not of British heritage does not bar them from being a Londoner. To be a Londoner is simply to be in and of London. 

            “What a wondrous place this was—crazy as fuck, of course, but adorable to the tiniest degree” (Bryson, 379). Bryson couldn’t have summed Great Britain up in a better way. It is an “adorable” nation, filled with little charms, friendly proprieties, and modest mannerisms. But when one is fully immersed in the British lifestyle, one can find Britain to be a country that is, how Bryson so eloquently put it, “crazy as fuck.” Now if you haven’t experienced Britain yourself, you may not be compelled to do so after hearing such a statement. Crazy as fuck? What kind of place is this?

            Well, it is a wonderful place and certainly crazy as fuck. Not crazy in the offensive or frightening sense, but crazy in a whimsical, capricious, nonsensical kind of way. In Notes from a Small Island, Bryson defines Britain by its unique, eccentric quirks and foibles. He calls these, “congenial small things” or “incidental civilities” (50). One does not go looking for these incidental civilities, but rather they present themselves to you in the most curious and surprising ways. Like tripping over a loosened paving stone on one of London’s furrowed side walks (which I have done countless times), you may stumble over the most unassuming pleasures at the most accidental moments.

            Just this week I was enjoying a casual stroll through Hyde Park when, in accordance with the fickleness that is British weather, the gorgeously crisp and sunny autumn day was dampened by a short lived monsoon. In a scramble to find a bit a cover, I darted behind some shrubbery that abutted the path I was meandering on and stumbled over one of those “congenial small things.” I found myself in a picturesque rose garden, one that would be likely to grace the pages of Better Home and Gardens. Then, just as swiftly the monsoon conditions materialized, the rain let up and the sun came back to reclaim the day. I then spent a blissful afternoon in the garden, reading of the “incidental civilities” Bryson stumbled over himself.

            Sometimes the things we stumble upon lead us on a trail of pleasant happenings. A few weeks ago I was out with some friends for “Fashion’s Night Out.” If you are not familiar with this event that is also staged in New York (but on a much larger scale), it is an evening where designers, department stores, and boutiques throw open their doors for an evening of fashion, music, and most alluringly, free alcohol. While wandering off Regent Street, we found a welcoming little art gallery. After exploring its collection, we struck up a conversation with the gallery’s director. We were then invited to an opening for an Italian artist, which we were told we could not miss. So this week, we returned to the gallery for what became an evening of unforgettable happenings. We met the artist, Alessandro Algardi (not the be confused with the Baroque sculpture), who graciously thanked us for attending by signing our programs with the beautiful script he incorporates into his unique artwork. Through the course of the evening, we had met so many interesting people who shared their own unique stories. We met a husband and wife, who were accomplished artists themselves. They spoke of how they fell in love in the 70’s and worked together to become who they are today. The husband had imparted us with one piece of advice that cannot soon be forgotten. He said, “Never be comfortable in life. Surround yourself with dynamic people. You will then be inspired.”

            This is the lovely craziness of the UK and this is why I’m falling in love with London. A content moment will be taken over by another moment of friendly tumult, leaving you with a pleasant surprise. I have had so many pleasant surprises here: happening upon whimsical gardens, meeting the most interesting people, discovering a wonderful bookshop in a quaint alleyway. These eccentric happenings and everyday amazements are constantly shaping and reshaping my experience here. No matter how I plan my day, I always find myself thrown out of kilter in some way or another. But that’s the magic of this “Small Island.” It’s unpredictable, unconventional, and “crazy as fuck.”
 
 
 

Much is said about London’s notoriously dreary weather, but I have yet to see any of it. In the month that I have been here, it has rained just a handful of times. For the most part, the weather has been beautifully mild. The air is crisp with the sent of autumn and the comfortable temperature requires only a light sweater. The forecast for this weekend: a tropical 27 degrees Celsius, with not a cloud in the sky. Am I really in London?

London has been spoiling me. On a typical day I wake up to a beautifully sunny morning. As I walk to class, I wander around lush gardens surrounded by gorgeous Georgian townhomes. Eventually I walk up the steps to one of these townhouses, ascend a dramatic spiral stair case, and find my place in a bright classroom overlooking the flourishing Bedford Square. My professors are of the typical British variety: intelligent and quick, always armed with a witty phrase at the tip of the tongue.

During lunch I will typically grab lunch from the nearby Pret A Manger (not particularly exotic, but addictively delicious) and nibble away in the courtyard of the British Museum or on a bench aside the bubbling fountain in Russell Square. After class I may wander to the Senate House Library at University of London, or go to one of London’s beautiful (and free!) museums.

My friends and I, in the proper British tradition, might pop into one of the numerous local pubs for a pint. I had a general understand of the pub culture before arriving in London, but had no idea of its immense popularity. At about 5:30, every weekday evening, pubs are packed with professionals and students. The masses overflow into the streets, and you will find flocks of pub goers enjoying a brew on sidewalks and street corners. Drinking on the street is not only legal here, but encouraged. London may be a bit of a sleepy town after midnight (compared to New York), but the British sure do know how to have a good time.

As the sun sinks into the west, I usually find myself jogging along the banks of the Thames. With a steady pace and some great tunes pumping into my ears, I watch the city spring to life. The London Eye pulses with an electric blue current, the clock tower glows proudly, and the countless bridges sparkle against the ebb and flow of the Thames.

It’s the random moments I encounter when jogging on the riverbank or turning a street corner, the moments of subtle beauty and discrete amazement, which truly make me feel that I am somewhere else. 

The picture is my own- A scene from one of the numerous garden squares in London. 

 The image is a cartton I found on speaking "English" 

Being off the New York grid is a bit unsettling. I don’t remember street names. I navigate by the precise numerical order of the streets and avenues. London, however, is a jungle of winding roads and obscure alleyways.  Knowing the names of only a few major roads and junctions, I find myself orienting myself be landmarks, such as The Gherkin (the pickle), St. Paul’s Cathedral, and the clock tower of Parliament; NOT Big Ben, as I have been told. Big Ben is the name of the bell, which cannot be seen from street view.
 
Nothing, however, can be as disorienting as stepping out of an establishment at a questionably early hour of the morning.  If New York is the city that never sleeps, then London is the city with an early bedtime. With the exception of a few areas populated by clubs, London shuts down after midnight. Streets are poorly lit, sparsely populate, and not particularly welcoming for late night strolls. While the Tube closes early, a few varying modes of transportation remain available in the early hours of the day: public buses, safe but expensive black cabs and sketchy unmarked cabs (which immediately recall scenes from movies like “Taken”).
 
One morning, a few of us stumbled out of one of these establishments and debated on how to best find our way home.  In the midst of our discussion, we were acquainted with a group of Lithuanian students who had just pulled up to the curb in a rickshaw.  They recommended this form of transportation so much so that they even paid the driver for our ride home before we had time to accept an offer. Now, I remember what my Mother told me and I never accept rides from strangers. However, my fears were soothed when I saw that the rickshaw driver was clearly licensed and that the emblem of a well-known rickshaw company marked his vehicle. Before we knew it, we were snuggly tucked into the carriage of the rickshaw, cozy blanket and all, waving goodbye to our generous Lithuanian friends.

Over the course of our journey, we got to know our driver as he spoke of his passion for biking all over Europe. He claimed biking was the best way to see the world. I was quickly convinced, as I took London in with the blur of its lights, the swerve of its traffic, and the rush its crisp, early morning air.

The rickshaw is not only an exciting form of transportation, but also a social one. We made many friends along the way as we tooted our bicycle horn. We even got into a drag race with a rival rickshaw and were challenged with a bet.  The terms were agreed upon, £50 was up for grabs, and the rickshaws lined up at the starting line. The turn of the traffic light initiated a violent clicking of spokes. Along with some bystanders, we cheered our driver to victory.  We took a victory lap around the intersection and endearingly nicknamed our hero Lance, claiming that he could take Mr. Armstrong in the Tour de France any day. The defeated party pedaled off in shame, neglecting to give us our spoils of victory. But despite this poor sportsmanship, getting home was just as fun as going out.

I often find myself frustrated when I don’t have an exact idea of where I am, not realizing that getting lost can be an adventure within itself. While it is necessary to avoid obviously dangerous situations, we can find excitement in our disorientation. Through our aimless wanderings, we can discover new places, meet interesting people, and find ourselves in a head-to-head rickshaw race around Trafalgar Square. 

(The picture: I took this picture of the Millenium Bridge, showing a little of London at night. Sorry for the blurriness! I played around with the size of the image and this is the clearest I could get it to displayed on the website) 

Since the UK shares the same national language as the US, it wasn’t so easy to see how I would be studying somewhere foreign.  There is no struggle to order at a restaurant, no confusion with navigating by street signs that I cannot understand. People would tell me, “You will love London, it’s a lot like New York!” Don’t get me wrong, I love New York, but I am not going abroad for a semester only to find something that I already know.

I have been to London once before, but I was about 9 years old. My greatest memories from the trip are ridding those big, red, double-decker busses, and going nuts in the toy department at Harrods (I think my interests have changed a bit since then). My other experiences of British culture have come from Jane Austen, Austin Powers, Spice Girls, and the “Charlie Bit My Finger” clip from YouTube.  As much as I have enjoyed these things (Charlie is just so darn cute), I’m not so sure they have painted me the best picture of what life in the UK is like.

Even though I was a bit discouraged, and even began to second-guess my abroad site of choice, I did find encouragement from my Aunt. My Aunt lived in London for a few years, so I took her as the authority on all things British.  Aside from recommending what sites to see and what trips to take, she also filled me in on cultural colloquialisms, getting around London, and how to “top up” my mobile. But most importantly, she talked about how she adored her time in London, meeting great people and seeing wonderful things.

Hearing her talk about her experiences made me realize that it’s not so much where I am going, but what I am doing. While places may share similar characteristics, they also provide different experiences. It seems that it is our experiences (the people we meet, the adventures we take), not the place itself, from which we form our fondest memories.

So it’s with this mindset that I have started my semester abroad, and so far it seems to be working. While I have turned down a street or two that could have easily been mistaken for being in New York, I know that my experiences in this city will be nothing like anything I have known before.
 
 (The picture is something that I found painted on the side of a building in Notting Hill. Maybe it’s the little surprises we stumble upon each day, not the major attractions, that make a place most interesting.)  
 
 
 
 
 

          I have never been one for introductions.  I am absolutely miserable at those silly icebreakers or name games played amongst a group of strangers. “My name is Jenny, J is for….umm jolly?” Jolly? Might as well introduce myself as jolly, old Saint Nicholas. Perhaps I will be asked to say some interesting fact about myself. Well let’s see, I am a relatively average girl from suburban Massachusetts.  I am a junior studying Economics, while dabbling in Politics and English. I have no particularly extraordinary talents: Average athleticism, minimal foreign language knowledge, no exotic hobbies. Let’s be honest, I am a twenty year old college student, with no major life experiences, still trying to figure out what the hell I’m doing with my life. To tell you where I want to be, rather than where I have been, would paint a much clearer picture for you of who I am.
            Where do I want to be? Everywhere.  I can’t remember just when I caught the travel bug, but I can’t seem to eradicate the thing from my system. I avidly follow travel blogs, I save clippings from Travel and Leisure in a scrapbook, and I idolize Samantha Brown. For some time I struggled to find the source of my travel obsession. It wasn’t until I came across a copy of “The Art of Travel” in The Strand my freshmen year, when I found the cause of my symptoms. De Botton explained how, “The constant calls of screens, some accompanied by the impatient pulsing of a cursor, suggest with what ease our seemingly entrenched lives might be altered were we simply to walk down a corridor and onto and craft that in a few hours would land us in a place of which we had no memories and where no one knew our name” (37). I then realized that my affinity for travel was derived from its sense of escapism.  How thrilling it is, to arrive in a new place, explore a new world, and explore a new side of yourself. So, when I came across “The Art of Travel” in the University Registrar, I became excited to explore my semester abroad, based around the book that helped me realize just why I wanted to travel.
            This is my first big adventure, and I’m adventuring to London. Though it may not be one of the most romantically foreign cities, it provides this travel rookie with a platform to dive head first into all that is British, while getting my feet wet in some European culture.  For me, this semester isn’t about racing to see all that I can within the next three and a half months; it is about discovering myself as an individual and as a traveler.
 
I look forward to sharing my experiences with all of you and reading about everyone’s international adventures!

 (The attached picture is one that a took on my first day out in London by the Household Cavalry Museum)