London, at last?

The view from my room, at night

My disaster zone of a room right now--very colorful, huh?

So I'm HERE! Actually, I got here yesterday, but I guess I didn't really get my life together until today--which is strange, considering that I actually woke up maybe 5 hours ago? Still, I feel like I actually got my feet a little more under me today. But I guess I'm getting ahead of myself, so let's start from the beginning.

I flew over with Delta, a new experience on its own, but not unpleasant. There was one stewardess that I just couldn't seem to make happy, but even she wasn't enough to sour the fact that I had my row to myself, right by a window. I was just short enough to fit comfortably splayed out across two seats, which I did. I watched Something Borrowed, a weirdly excruciating experience, much like the book. I guess the whole topic of infidelity just doesn't make good, light entertainment--go figure. Then I read for about half an hour and ate dinner before giving into the sleep. By the time I woke up we were only about an hour and a half away, which I filled with breakfast and some more reading. I kept thinking I should write, force myself into that place where transition makes such a luxurious escape for words, but for some reason I feel strangely distanced from writing lately. Maybe its the vague feeling that I messed up helping Teeth as I should have this summer, or the way that writing seems like such an insignificant reaction to a summer of working hard with kids who really deserve the world and just don't have those opportunities. Either way, writing now seems hard enough. But I want to do this. I need a better log of my life for the next three months, even if it turns out to be more for me than anyone else.

Eventually my plane landed, and I was pumped to start discovering London, sure I was going to take the Tube in, get a little lost, but ultimately spend less money and have a better feel for my bearings. And then I got to the UK Border Agency, and those feelings ceased immediatly. The student line was long, like 3 hours-waiting-long. Like, being there long enough to meet some people long. Two people, in fact, behind me in line, both having flown in from Detroit and studying in London for the semester. Both seemed like really cool people, but my tongue kept doing the twister thing that it seems to do after I get any kind of reaction to telling someone I go to Yale. Which I did, after I told them. And even though they seemed to try really hard not to hold it against me, it always feels like I'm unfairly swimming upstream for some time, trying to get back to a place where someone thinks of me as more than "smart"--if only they knew! We did get along well enough after all the time in line though, so after passing security, we searched out our bags that had been quarantined to their lonely corner long ago and searched out some food options--12 hours is a long time to go with food and coffee. A panini and capuccino from Costa later, we boarded the 15 pound and 15 minute Heathrow Express to Paddington Station in central London. There, we parted ways and I took a taxi to Ramsey Hall, where I am staying until Astor College is ready. Astor and Ramsey are relatively close, and closer still to the main UCL campus, especially in comparison to the other college options. 

My immediate impression of London is that their taxis are fuckin' cool. I want a car with a ginormous backseat and comfy seating--yes please. Also, though, why have a back that looks like a trunk if you don't actually have a trunk? It's just asking to confuse poor, jet lagged American students dragging around over weight luggage. Which it did, my first big hiccup as an American in London. Which I suppose is interesting on its own, how much more I feel American in London than I ever seem to in America. Here, calling myself American comes so much easier, without that inkling of uncertainty, where I weigh my Paraguayan roots against my American upbringing and decided where the balance tilts for the moments. Here, I am just American. Simple. And maybe a little deranged--like when I handed the guy at the Vodaphone store money and simply asked him to fix my life. He did, God bless his soul, and he wasn't the only one. Most people here seem willing to help, if only a little impatient when lines, or "queues," are involved. Also, what the hell is a "swipe card"? Because apparently I have one and they don't accept them here. And my used cell's battery charger stopped working last night. And my lock stopped locking today, which apparently it tends to do when they turn on the heater, and I had to wait until the one man on duty could help me open it, so by the time I went to fix the charger situation, guess who was already closed? Right, the store who I'm starting to think jipped me. Joy. 

Tomorrow, I start orientation. I am hopeful--perhaps now I will fill fulfilled, busy again, finally. Ready to start my time at London right, hopefully not tired, and ready to meet new people and open to new experiences. Because right now, honestly, I'm still tired. And a little homesick. And missing everything familiar about the U.S. and everything safe about Yale and annoyed that I sound more and more like the teenager I was than the woman I want to be. The scholar I'd like to be. 

So, here's to that woman, who can face the craziness and coldness of London and its people without wanting to hide under a rock. Here's to that woman, who made the decision to put us in this position in the first, us being that woman and the little girl who wants a warmer blanket and some milk and cookies. 

I'm going to clean my room, which as you can see is a disaster zone right now, and then shower, wash my hair, and ready myself for tomorrow. And maybe go stare at some English coins for a bit 0.0 Because they are more than a little confusing...

love, from london

adri