"Every Place I Go, I Take Another Place With Me"

Dear Readers,

July nears its end, and I've yet to complete my own Canterbury Tale, which concluded over a month ago.  I apologize that my inspiration to write was lost, suspended somewhere over the Atlantic, and that since I set foot in the states, I have struggled to find any sort of motivation to post a last entry. However, after talking with many, I have discovered that those of you who spent the last year following my story through my words and my photographs need closure to this chapter in my life just as much as I recently realized I need for myself.  So, here it is.

Pre-departure, September 18, 2010.

The ten months that I spent in Europe were, without a doubt, the most meaningful, surreal, happy, and life-changing that I've experienced in my 22 years.  A year ago, I would never have believed that today I'd find myself constantly bringing it up, relating and comparing experiences that happen to me now to those that happened while I was in England.  In doing so, I fully believe in reverse culture shock - readjusting, yes, but mainly in that I feel somewhat of an outcast in my own home - as though I'm bombarding friends and family with stories that they don't necessarily not care to hear, but that they are unable to respond to, or try to, but simply cannot understand.  And this makes me homesick for the streets in the place I call my city, for the friends from around the world whom I call my family (don't get me wrong, relation!), and for the life that I left behind in Europe.

As I packed my suitcases for the last time, in between saying goodbyes, knowing that it wasn't for an exciting new adventure to an unfamiliar country, knowing that eventually I'd have to take down the photographs and posters from the walls of the room that I'd come to know as my home, leaving them as bare as the day I'd arrived, I sat in the middle of my floor, surrounded by all of the things that would be going back with me, and I began to cry.  Scratch that.  I began to sob.  And in my attempts to choke back tears, laughs began to fill the gaps.  I was taken back to the day in September when I landed in England, to the moment I sat on the very same spot on the floor, surrounded by all of the same things, and sobbed because I was there.  I failed to mention those moments in this blog, mainly because I didn't want to appear weak, or scare anyone who may have been considering study abroad away from the idea of doing so.  But after the rush of saying goodbye to loved ones, navigating the airport, attempting to fathom the fact that I was heading halfway around the world, meeting other students, and finally ending up in my room alone, I unzipped my suitcase and out poured home.  The only place I'd ever known.  And I asked myself why on earth I'd left it, how I was going to survive (obviously those anxieties were forgotten quite quickly).  And nearly a year later, there I sat, wondering the same thing about going back.

I sat atop a suitcase outside of my flat early on the morning of my departure, waiting for my taxi.  To my left, quiet, empty rugby and football fields, typically filled with laughter and crowds. To my right, only a few occupied flats, typically with students hanging from the windows and sounds Bob Marley and The Beatles filling the air.  Somewhere in the distance, I heard the university bus making its first morning stop, and wished I was waiting for it instead.  My driver pulled up, and for the first time, I dreaded getting into a cab.  I watched the city fade into the distance as we pulled away, the cathedral that had always led me back to Canterbury standing still, watching me leave it.  The ride seemed long, and I tried my best not to think.

Thirteen hours later, I landed in Chicago.  With my passport stamped, I was officially back in my own country.  And yet, it felt foreign, until walking down a long aisle after getting my luggage, I saw my mom and brother waiting through the windows of a pair of double doors.  It's a rather strange feeling, landing in a place where you see familiar faces waiting for you - after months of landing amongst strangers.  Although I was elated to see them, the drive home served as a reminder that everything was just the same as the day I'd left, and yet, my whole world had changed.

Since then, everyone I expected I would talk to and be with upon returning have been in my life the least, if at all.  The people I thought I would never hear from or see again are those who have made several appearances in the month following my return.  It's funny, and sad, and surprising, the way the world works, the way things change in a year's time.  Part of me wishes things were the way they were when I left in September.  But more of me hopes that they're never quite the same again.

I am trying my best to make the most of the way things are in the moment here.  One thing I've learnt in all of my experiences, not only my European adventure, is that, cliche as it may sound, life truly is what you make of it.  I only want to take what I am given, do with it the best that I can, and be happy.  I am not sure what my next move is, but things seem to be falling into place for now, and I have no doubt that they will continue to do so in time. I played Bon Iver on a loop during my last few days in England, and a line that jumped at me time and again was, "Every place I go, I take another place with me."  I like to think that none of my visits, travels, experiences, days, or moments are really left on the other side of the ocean.  Yes, I left little pieces of my heart all over Europe...

Part of me remains in a pub in Dublin, and on the sunny shores of Howth.

Part of me is left retracing the footsteps of John and Paul and Ringo and George throughout Liverpool.

Part of me will never leave the ancient streets of Rome or the waters of Venice.

 

Part of me will always be waving back at the royal family on Will and Kate's wedding day.

Part of me will forever be lounging in Gaudi's Guell Park, looking out over all of Barcelona, sitting beside the River Thames, and under the shade of a tree in London's Kensington Gardens, laughing with my best friend.  

Part of me will always be on the bench in city centre, listening to the buskers play, running through the cobblestone streets with friends by night, wandering through forests in the springtime, and making memories atop the hill overlooking Canterbury, the city where it all began.

While I left a piece of myself behind everywhere I visited, I brought a part of all of these places home with me as well, and I plan to hold onto them forever, whatever I may be doing and wherever I may end up.  They have helped to shape me into a better person.  I have more independence, more curiosity, more confidence, more patience, more desire, more respect, more spontaneity, more hope, more trust, and more love in me as a result of the last year.  The places I visited, the experiences I had, and the people I met along the way have changed my life forever...

And it doesn't end here.

Always,

Aly

Final Hour in Canterbury

As I sit here in an empty room, watching the rain fall outside of the window that I've spent so many hours gazing out of in the last year, I struggle to find the words to describe this moment, let alone the past ten months of my life.  Of course, when I get home, I plan to write one final post, but for now, I simply don't have the words.  Amazing, unforgettable, perfect... they all come to mind, but none of them are enough.

Sometimes you get a feeling deep down that's kind of impossible to sum up in the form of sentences.  Traveling and experiencing life abroad has moved me in a way I'll never be able to get across by way of a blog post.  But it's like this...

I'll leave you with that, while I head to London for the last time... and head across the ocean.  For home.

Until next time,
Aly

For the Love of London & The Pursuit of Spontaneity: A Week of Goodbyes

Before I get into writing about my last adventure in, and goodbye to, London, there are a couple of memories, involving other goodbyes, worth noting that have taken place in the last week as well.  Firstly, our friend Jonny Walker returned to Canterbury (which I later learned was a result of my inquiring if we'd see him again) to busk for the weekend and say farewell to Leigh Anne and I.  As an added bonus, we got to meet his lovely and lively fiance, Philippa, a writer and editor at Glamour UK!  She also writes for a travel magazine (which is why she and Jonny will be enjoying a honeymoon in New York on July 4th without worrying about expenses.)  Listening to Jonny and getting a bit of advice from someone who has a degree in literature like me, and does what I want to do, was a perfect way to spend the holiday weekend!

Passersby stopped to stare as we made a scene that involved several hugs and lots of loud, theatrical sobbing (but real, genuine sadness) and said our final goodbyes.

Later, on the evening of the Bank Holiday, we decided to have a cookout as the weather was warm and sunny, with a few friends that we knew we probably wouldn't be seeing again.  I attempted to make grilled vegetable kebabs, while Leigh Anne and the boys attempted to grill burgers on disposable foil grills.  It was a learning experience.  But practically anything can taste better with cheese or a pinch of salt, right?  And it all looked nice, anyway!

Just as we were finishing our grilled delicacies, a huge, dark storm cloud made its way right over the top of the house, and we had to move inside.  Sam was wonderful enough to bring some red wine, which she and I enjoyed, while everyone sang along to the various songs that we took turns choosing, and watched as the guys made about 100 different goofy faces for the MacBook camera.  After awhile, we remembered that we still had our (improvised) s'mores to make.  Graham crackers are unheard of here, as are Hershey's, so we used plain biscuits (cookies) and Cadbury chocolate buttons, and because it was raining, the marshmallow roasting was done on the stovetop...

Sadly, this makes for a much less messy s'more experience, albeit an equally tasty one.  We enjoyed watching the British make their very first s'mores... and seeing their reactions to taking the first bite.

Yep, overall it was still a success and the Americans, not surprisingly, all had one too many, but we were content with that!  Due to a sugar high, a lack of sleep, and an attempt to forget that we were saying so many final goodbyes, we all caved into the random urge to run out in the rain to try to find bunnies (and hedgehogs) to feed our leftover lettuce to.  This was a failed attempt, because some of us forgot that screaming, "BUNNY!" isn't the best way to go about getting close to one and we watched as they all scampered into the shrubberies throughout Parkwood.  The boys had had enough when the girls decided to run and pudde-hop down the sidewalks, and this led to our saying our goodnights and final "it-was- great-to-meet-you,-we-will-probably-never-see-you-agains."  Yeah, they're tough to cope with.

Now, onto London!  Leigh Anne and I have known for a couple of weeks that we'd be visiting the city, but did not purchase our coach tickets until just hours before leaving, book a hostel, or have any idea whatsoever about what we wanted to do aside from attending The Civil Wars concert on Thursday evening.  I threw an extra shirt in my bag, wrote down a few hostels' phone numbers, and scribbled down walking directions to the pub where the concert would be taking place before we left to catch our coach.  We were beyond excited to be doing something so spontaneous and last minute - and even decided that it was entirely possible to save money by pulling an all-nighter instead of getting a hostel room.  The sun was shining, and we were feeling lucky.

By the time we got to London, white clouds had rolled in and it looked as if it were going to pour down rain at any moment.  We were a little concerned, since neither of us had brought along a warm jacket for the night, not to mention an umbrella, since the weather report had said to expect sun and a major heat wave for the next two days.  However, just moments after getting off of the coach, the sun began to peek back through the clouds, and we breathed a major sigh of relief.

We immediately went in search of food, which we ate in a tiny park, soaking up the sun and deciding our travel plan for the day.

I know what you're thinking... Shorts?  Sun?  Heat wave?  In London?  It's true.  We were anything but cool while sitting in the sun, and it seemed that practically all of London was as excited as us.  There were lounge chairs overtaking the park, and a festival along the Thames where we saw half-dressed sunbathers enjoying cold drinks and live music.  It was extremely tempting to do the same, but we had other sights to see!

We walked around the Udderbelly Festival for a bit before heading toward Parliament.  I'm pretty sure that everyone is bound to be drawn to an area with a giant, blow-up cow as a stage.

Walking along the River Thames is always an adventure in itself, and we took our time watching a few of the street performers, and getting creative with an impromptu photoshoot, the London skyline as a backdrop.

 

From there, we walked towards across the bridge toward Big Ben, and got on the tube to Tower Hill... I had not yet seen the Tower of London or Tower Bridge!

Having heard so many horror stories about the terrible punishments that those sent to the Tower of London faced in the past, I felt a little guilty thinking that it was rather beautiful.  Of course, the greenery and purple flowers added to that!  We discussed the tortures that Kings and Queens had sentenced many to... the chopping off of heads, being dragged through the streets, the burning of one's innards while he or she watched... yep, none of it was pretty!  I dreaded the thought of how I might be punished...

And Leigh Anne didn't really have time to worry about it, as she was swiftly stabbed in the back!

We decided we would to return later that night, to see the creepy, supposedly very haunted tower in the dark, to look for ghosts and listen for the cry of the six legendary ravens that guard the Tower, and the kingdom.

Next up was Tower Bridge...

We decided that while the bridge was very lovely, for some reason (its colors?) it looked almost fake - like a giant Lego piece!  I was excited to return when it was dark for that as well, to see it all lit up.

But before we could see London by night, we had a very important date... with The Civil Wars!  If you haven't heard of them, they're a folk-rock duo from the states and you definitely need to give them a listen.

We had a bit of trouble finding the pub, as it was in a non-touristy part of London, but after asking a few people here and there if we were on the right track, we made it to The Slaughtered Lamb (cute name, huh?)

We immediately fell in love with the place, as it is just the right size, not overly crowded, has comfy couches to lounge on when seats run out, and serves the best chips (french fries) we've had in ages.  We grew more and more excited as the time until the concert lessened.  Before we knew it, the doors to the venue (located in the pub's basement) opened, and we made our way down the stairs.  As we walked through the doors, my heart skipped a beat (or five.)  I made direct eye contact with John Paul (the guy of the group) who was just standing there near the entrance, talking to a fan.  I looked from him to Leigh Anne, who's look of shock resembled mine, then back to him, then back to Leigh Anne, then to another girl who was in the same position as us, who nodded excitedly.  We were able to chat with him for a bit before the opening act, and snap this picture, which both of us have spent unhealthy amounts of time staring at each day since:

Of course, we were all giddy and in complete disbelief at how laid back the place (and the people!) were.  Loveseats and seating built into the wall were scattered about the tiny venue, and we were just a few feet from the stage.

Liz Lawrence, an energetic and very talented guitar player and singer opened for the Civil Wars, and we already felt like we had underpaid for such a great show.

The Civil Wars gradually made their way up to the stage, occasionally stopping to share a laugh with a fan and sip on their glasses of red wine.  When they went on, they not only had our attention for the music, but for their stage presence and wonderful senses of humor!  Dancing, joking around with each other and the audience both during their songs and in between them... no doubt I'll be seeing them again!

After the show, we hung out for a bit and got autographs before grabbing one more drink and heading out to see London at night... probably one of the most beautiful cities in the world when darkness falls.

We sat on a bench with a gorgeous view of Tower Bridge, singing Civil Wars songs and trying to decide what two twenty-somethings should be doing late on a weeknight in London, as we're not typical students who like to club and whatnot.  It began to get a bit chilly, and this caused us to consider either going to a hostel (comfier) or riding the night buses until the sun came up (cheaper.)  We called a few and got the prices, then hopped a night bus just to buy some time before making a decision.  When, an hour later, we were standing on a sidewalk, shivering in each others arms, huddled together for warmth, and Leigh Anne began making laughing noises in her half-sleep, we decided that that particular bit of spontaneity just wasn't our cup of tea and went to a hostel, where, thankfully, we both enjoyed the best kind of sleep, grabbed a free breakfast, and started the day refreshed rather than grumpy!

Our first stop of the morning?  Abbey Road!  THE ABBEY ROAD!

Having been there and in Liverpool, I think we've walked in some of The Beatles' most important footsteps, and in both instances, left us singing Beatles songs for days afterwards!  We hung out on Abbey Road, watching cars and people go by, singing, wishing we'd been the age we are now back in the 1960s, and moved to the Abbey Road Studios wall to leave a little piece of ourselves behind.

It was a tough decision, deciding what to write on the wall that already had thousands of notes scribbled on every single inch of it.  But sometimes, there are Beatles lyrics that just keep coming back to you.

 

 

After Abbey Road, we made our way to the Victoria & Albert Museum, which I hadn't been to yet, but had been advised to visit time and again.  It was most certainly worth our time!

 

Ancient jewelry, real stage costumes, old statues, artifacts from all over the world... all in one stop!

Afterwards, we grabbed a milkshake since it was almost unbearably hot, and decided to try to find our old friend, Caspian, the most beautiful tree in the world, who we met back in October, in Kensington Gardens.  After a few moments of, "Is that him?"  "Wait, no, he's more magical than that, over here!" we found ourselves lying under his giant, shady branches, reminiscing about all that has happened in our lives since our first meeting.

            

 

After a couple of hours (we really didn't mean to stay that long), Leigh Anne spotted the cutest creature in the world, Edward the Squirrel, perched on Caspian, watching us.

He crept closer... and closer...

...and closer, and even closer still...

...until the only option we had was to cave and feed him the rest of our Ritz crackers!

 

We were a little sad to leave what has become one of our favorite places in all of London, but I was itching to see Shakespeare's Globe before we had to head for our coach back to Canterbury.

Unfortunately, we couldn't get inside as there was a play that evening, but I was glad to be in the area, which we spent a little extra time hanging out in, and since we had about an hour left, we thought we'd rush toward Westminster to watch the sunset over London - and were so glad we did.

 

So, my last adventure (for now) in London ended there, in that beautiful and perfect moment.  Leaving for the coach station was a rather odd experience, as neither of us really felt down or thought that this would be our last visit to the city.  As we descended the stairs into the Underground station, Big Ben gradually disappearing from my view and the sounds of the busy streets growing quiet, I knew this wasn't a "goodbye" moment, it was an "I'll see you later."

Since then, there has been a lot of running about Canterbury, squeezing everything possible into my last week here.  Unfortunately, there won't be a trip to Amsterdam as I simply cannot afford it at this time (keep in mind, I am a broke college student, just like many of you are or have been!), and because there are just too many people to be with and places to say goodbye to here in the next four days.  Thankfully, I'm entirely content, more than content, with all I have experienced and seen in the past ten months, and I have no doubt that I'll be back to add to my adventures in Europe soon - that's a promise to myself that I wholeheartedly intend to keep!  For now, I still feel like the luckiest girl in the world.

Until next time,

Aly