And
so it happens, as it so often does, that the journey ends precisely where it
began. Back home with friends and family, on the day after 4th of
July nonetheless, I find myself needing to submit some kind of closure to my
time in Europe if for no other reason than to confirm that I did, in fact, make
it back to land of the free and the home of the brave. The strangest thing
about being back, more so than the different accents and food, is the fact that
London still feels so close even though an ocean now stands between me and it.
I feel like if I were to walk outside I still might be able to make it to Regent’s
Park if only I would walk long enough. Sometimes I go to sleep and wake up
thinking I might be in my dorm room still about to get up and grab a bite at
the Refectory before going out and making a day of it. Thankfully my mom’s
cooking is fifty times better than the food at the Refectory, so it’s actually
a nice surprise to realize I’m back home after all.
My last week in London was an
eventful one to say the least. From finals to last minute sightseeing, I had my
plate full at almost any hour in the day, but I wouldn’t have had it any other
way. Some final destinations of note that I hit before leaving were the Tower
of London, one of the Olympic parks, and of course, the shopping monstrosity
known as Harrod’s. Out of these three, I think the Olympic park will stick with
me the most, merely because the athlete in me was geeking out the whole time I
was there. I can’t wait for the end of July when I can watch on TV the venues I
saw in person come to life with all the competition and energy that comes every
4 years during the games. The Crown Jewels in the Tower would definitely
contend as a close second, however. When I saw them I could hardly believe that
everything I was looking at was actually real diamonds, gems, and gold; it
looked like some overzealous kindergarteners had gone overboard during craft
time and stuck as many sparkly things on each crown and scepter as humanly
possible. I finished off my tourist adventure by finally watching the changing
of the guard at Buckingham Palace. You would have thought I would have gotten
around to this a lot sooner, but no, I enjoy waiting until the last minute to
cram in more things than is healthy. The little ritual they have for changing
the guard is pretty amusing what with the marching around, stopping, staring at
one another, playing music, marching some more, riding horses, and then eventually
shutting the gates knowing the queen is now sufficiently protected by red
jackets and black puffy hats. In real life, though, some of the guards pack some
pretty serious heat, so I would think twice about a mad dash for the palace if
I felt so inclined.
After it all, the time finally came
to say goodbye to the streets, buildings, and blessedly cool air that we had
grown to know and love. Suiting up with our obscenely large bags, we made our
way back through the tube stations and train platforms just like we did at the
onset of the trip, only this time not being quite so burdened with crushing
ignorance and general state of confusion amidst the crowds. I didn’t believe
that I was actually leaving. This was just another weekend excursion and I
would be back at Regent’s by Monday ready to go for another week. Sadly, the
nine hour plane ride and border security begged to differ. As I was in the air approaching
America, I couldn’t help but remember a thought that had popped into my head
during the plane ride over to London as I looked out of the window and caught
my first glimpse of Europe. Watching little rivers snake across the green
spaces of the ground below and hills and valleys cast their shadows like flecks
on a canvas, I thought to myself “This could be anywhere.” From way up there
you can’t tell where one country ends and another begins, it’s simply a place. Only
once I had touched down and lived in that place for a month and a half did it
become something more, something real, something I’ll be able to remember for
the rest of my life. In the same way as I flew back over the fields and lakes
that all look the same from 30,000 feet, I knew that what I was looking at wasn’t
just some place: it was home. After all the sights, all the sounds, all the tastes,
all the experiences, I had made it back to the one place on earth that I can
place the four lettered label on. I count any trip a success that comes full
circle to a warm bed, loving friends and family, and good old fashioned
southern cooking. I hope this isn’t goodbye forever, but I’ll miss you, London.
We had a good run together.
