London

Although this post is dated for today, the 20th of March, it is but a collection of thoughts from the first half of my time in Europe; a conglomeration of memories, journal entries, and artifacts from my time there. If you have ever traveled you may know that sometimes, the most interesting way to describe the experience is not chronologically or factually but fluidly, going from experience to thought and back again. I would like to tell about this trip as if for the thousandth time I was being asked "So, how was you're trip?" and instead of the automatic (and expected) response of "Amazing!"....a more worthy response.

When I think of London I think of many things even the least traveled might conjure up - Telephone booths, red double-decker busses, muggy weather, fantastic accents, tea and scones, soaring architecture. Because all of these things are there, and apparent. But I also think of the sensation of warm cornish pasties on a freezing cold night, the lingering oder of incense and the almost tangible holy silence in Westminister Abbey. I think of the weight of my backpack thumping against my body as I barely made it on to the last tube of the day, the feeling of loss as I walked deeper into the tragedies of the Holocaust in the Imperial War Museum.

To say that for me, London was more than a beautiful city would be an understatement. With every museum and experience, from the incredible tour that showed me the meaning behind otherwise simply beautiful paintings in the National Gallery, to enlightening conversations with Russians and Brazilians in my hostel, I learned more. I affirmed my independence, proving to myself with every tube ride and hostel bed slept in that I was capable of traveling light, making friends, and being content by myself.

I was comfortable in London. This may not seem like a big deal, but perhaps because I have only travelled extensively in non-english speaking countries, not having a language barrier made every other barrier appear less daunting. It was also my first experience being completely alone, trusted to make the most of this experience, to book my own hostels, transport myself, and being in certain places without someone with me every step of the way. I think I am so proud of this trip because of this sense of comfort. Knowing all of the work I had put into it before even landing in Gatwick, from the relentless research of hostels to the history books and conversations with friends met travelling, all added up to this experience. It was a big realization for me, that hard work pays off. That being friendly, confident and flexible really could get me further than being nervous or unsure of myself.

Another grant recipient and I decided to travel together and I owe a lot of my comfort to him. As we checked off our list of sites, we also discovered each-others' niche, his most often being in navigation and mine in communication. As he explored the war vehicles meticulously in the War Museum, I excitedly explored the literature of the traveling exhibit of food-systems in World Wars. In the National Gallery our eyes rest on different pieces with differing motivations, and our choices in food often spanned the menu. And although these differences may seem typical, they were some of the best teachers for me throughout the trip. I learned that such different people could not only get along well enough to basically live with each other for two weeks, but that we could appreciate things equally. I learned that even when traveling with someone so closely, you can have very different experiences, and that truly each person makes his own journey regardless of the company.

I am truly grateful for everything that led up to this experience, because although this trip consisted of many sites and experiences in different cities, it is London that served as a beginning and ending point. It is where I discovered my independence but also my love of good company. I was only there for a short time, but will always remember London as my first truly independent travel experience.