The End

I apologize for the long lapse since my last update, but considering my previous difficulties with blizzards and volcanoes, I thought it would be prudent to enter the Natural Disaster Victim Protection Program well in advance of my departure date. However, I’ve been safely back in the States for more than a week now and so far no earthquakes, fires or tornadoes have found me, so I think the coast is clear.

Let’s catch up on my last few days across the pond, shall we?

Do you ever notice how you never seem to have time to visit that castle in the town next door, so you just keep putting it off because you can see it anytime? No? It must just be me. Seven minutes away from Brighton by train, there is a little town called Lewes, which is home to your run-of-the-mill medieval English castle, and somehow, I never made time for it. Fortunately, Giulia G. and I scheduled a trip for the Friday before I left, and this was one of the best decisions I made in the last few weeks. I won’t bore you with my standard “awesome sense of history” spiel, and instead I will just give a round of applause to whoever manages the property. The main attraction is the castle’s exterior because there isn’t much left inside, but the grounds are beautiful, and when you stand on top of the tower with a beautiful view that extends for miles, you can pretend for just a moment that you’re not carrying a cell phone in your pocket and that a horse, rather than a train, will take you home. And if you need some extra help getting into that frame of mind, Lewes Castle has you covered. Quite literally. Two floors of one of the medieval towers have been turned into large, walk-in closets filled with medieval dress up clothes for the young and the not-so-young. Giulia and I spent the largest chunk of our visit trying on funky hats and robes and taking ridiculous pictures, and it was one of the highlights of the day.

I picked a good summer to be in England, because how else would I have discovered how patriotic the English can be? A few weeks ago, English flags started popping up everywhere. Cars, windows, you name it, there was a flag. Being the political science student that I am, my first thought was that it was some sort of symbolic support for the British National Party, an extreme right party that is sometimes identified with the flag. However, the term “World Cup” kept floating around, and I put that fine university education I’m supposed to be getting to work to connect the two. The England vs. USA match just happened to be on the Saturday before I left, and fortunately, I stumbled upon a small enclave of familiar American, Iranian and non-English faces in the middle of the crowded and very patriotic English pub. The stares we received when we cheered at the English goalie’s fumble? Priceless. I couldn’t have had a better introduction to this strange sport called “football,” and I’m officially hooked on the World Cup.

I took my final exam on Monday, and after a frenzy of shopping and packing, I had my last supper in Brighton with my friends at the Asian buffet I mentioned a few weeks ago, and then we met up with more friends for drinks on the beach. I almost cried when my friends presented me with going away presents, including a UK flag with all of their signatures, a cute book about this unique town that I’ve called home for the past few months, and a new travel journal (even though none of them knew that I kept a travel journal or that it had recently run out). Thanks again, guys! <3 I couldn’t dream up a better sendoff.

The next day, we gathered one last time for coffee and cake, and many hugs later, I lugged myself and 50 kilos of luggage to London, where I came full circle and stayed over at Riki’s flat. We had a delightful evening at a Caribbean restaurant (people who knew me when I refused to eat anything other than pizza, hotdogs and grilled cheese sandwiches, did you ever imagine I would write such a thing???), and I was awake and out the door the next morning probably before most of you back home had even gone to sleep.

Despite the stack of books, the three complete meals and the extra clothing I stuffed in my backpack, there were no travel disasters. Not one. The plane took off on time, I had a window seat, and despite an unpleasant neighbor, I caught up on chick flicks. Without further drama, my European adventure came to a close.

I’ve had almost two weeks’ distance from England, and I’m far from done with processing and reflecting on the experience, but since I like lists, here are some preliminary thoughts:

Things I’ve learned:
-What zucchinis look like.

-Volcanoes are public enemy #1.

-Karaoke is actually fun, even if I sound like a dying ground squirrel. (Trust me, I’m writing this from Galena, I know what a[n alive] ground squirrel sounds like.)

-Chivalry is really sexy. I’m talking to you, American guys.

-Italians do almost everything together. Laundry, cooking, grocery shopping, bus ticket shopping…and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

-Europeans kiss. A lot. “Hello” and “goodbye” aren’t European unless they are accompanied by a kiss (or two, or three, depending on nationality). I’ve been kissed more this semester than in my entire life (on the cheek anyway…)

-I can survive and thrive in a foreign country, albeit one as easy linguistically and culturally as England.

-I know what it feels like (I think) to be an adult. At Wash. U., I never really feel like a grownup (probably because I still use that word). Yes, I live away from home, but I have the cafeteria a few steps away, my parents are easily accessible by phone 24/7, and I’m insulated from the real world in the people I see, the place I live and the things I do. At Sussex, I cooked for myself, I unclogged my sink, I paid for my groceries (it’s not as convenient as just swiping my student id!), I went off campus multiple times a week (as opposed to multiple times a year, if I’m lucky, at Wash. U.), and I figure out how to get myself from one building/city/country to another. While those responsibilities come with their share of stress and frustration (does anyone remember my rants about black mold?), it also comes with a healthy sense of independence, and I truly hope that is a feeling I can transfer to my life here in the States.

-My mother won’t be happy to read this, but if I had to, I could live there. A few people asked me if I would ever want to leave the States to settle in Europe, and up until mid-May, the answer was always been a resounding “no.” It’s not that I don’t appreciate some of the perks of living in Europe (like efficient public transportation), but in general, I find quality of life to be better in the U.S. (I’m sorry Europe, I just love my air conditioning too much) and of course the most difficult part of the last few months has been being away from all the family and friends that I love. None of that is likely to change, so my preference right now is to stay in America. But I discovered that it’s the people I surround myself with who make all the difference in the world, so if I knew I would be living with people as amazing as the friends I’ve met here, I could do it.

Things I don’t miss:
-Anything and everything about York House (except the porter who almost cried when I left, and while giving me the tightest bear hug in the history of the universe, said “I wish that everything you touch turns to gold.”)

-Windows without screens (but not the cute guys who show up shortly after incidents involving screen-less windows).

-Sinks with two faucets, one for lukewarm water, one for scalding hot water.

-Scrimping and saving for weeks to have enough pound coins for laundry. You wouldn’t believe how difficult they are to come by.

-Being turned away from the gym I pay a fortune to use when I forget a sweat towel.

-Sussex bureaucracy. If it’s not a hassle to get done, you’re doing it wrong.

-Sitting on a bus (even a double-decker) for an hour to get to and from Brighton.

-Unintentionally smoking a pack a day just by breathing.

-Queuing. For. Everything.

Things I miss:
-British English. When I use words like “biscuit,” “revise” and “queue,” I get all of the accomplishment that comes from speaking a foreign language without the difficulty of actually learning one.

-Sinks in bedrooms.

-The BBC iPlayer. Every show that airs on any BBC channel is available for the next week online. For free. I love it.

-Primark. Think Wal-Mart prices, department store quality. What’s not to miss?

-Having conversations like: “What are you doing this weekend?” “I’m going to Paris/
Amsterdam/Berlin/Venice. No big deal.”

-European dinners. I have been fortunate enough to experience mealtimes in a variety of countries, as well as on a regular basis with my friends on campus, and the contrast to American dinners is striking. While I may not have witnessed “typical” European dinners because I was often a guest in friends’ homes, I don’t think I can be accused of being too naïve if I make a few generalizations. The length of the meal is the first hint that you’re not eating in the country that invented fast food. European meals are long and leisurely, and even longer if you’re eating with people you don’t like. At home, we may gobble down our food in under thirty minutes, just in time to catch a Scrubs rerun, but there, dinners can easily last 1 1/2 hours or more. Part of the difference is due to the absence of tv watching and because of the multiple courses; sometimes, there’s an appetizer, a main course, a cheese course depending on the country, and dessert, with plenty of wine throughout. I’m still trying to figure out how Europeans don’t top the list of the world’s most obese people. Perhaps it’s only the presence of food and drink that I wasn’t used to, but European dinners often feel a little more special than American dinners. They’re a perfect ending to any day, and they’re an event, not just another scheduled activity. It’s not that I never have nice and special meals in America, but they’re less frequent than in Europe.

-the English attitude towards alcohol. It’s much more relaxed than the American perspective. The English may drink at inappropriate times, and they may drink in inappropriate places (buses, beaches, theaters…you name it, you can drink there), and yes, they may drink ever so slightly more than the doctor-recommended one glass of wine a day, but they’re much less dramatic about it.

-Hand in hand with the last point, being legal. For about a month anyway.

-Rock beaches. Despite my initial misgivings, I found that they are superior to sand beaches in every way.

-The international community in Brighton. It took me longer than it should have to really tap into this fine group of people, but I’m glad I found my way to them in the end. There’s a sizeable population of foreign students studying in Brighton, some just for a few months, and some for a full degree, but no matter where they’re from or what they’re doing, what sets them apart from other groups is how inclusive everyone is. The dominant mentality is “the more, the merrier,” and this applies to dinners, picnics, parties, clubbing and outings of every kind. If a few people are going out, no one thinks twice about texting or messaging their friends (or people they just met, which benefited me a few times!), with the expectation that friends of friends will come along. In this way, almost everyone knows each other, if not by name than at least by face. From my experience, this is not an American attitude at all. It’s not that Americans tend to be purposefully cliquish, but it just doesn’t occur to most people here to include those outside of their circle.

-My social life, especially in the last few weeks. I had my core group of friends who I saw almost every day for dinner, dessert or a study break throughout my time at Sussex, and then there was the larger group of friends and acquaintances who I often went out with. The only time I was alone in the last two months was when I wanted to be.

-I’ve alluded to it, but just for emphasis: my wonderful friends. Even though I was barely there for five months, I found some amazing people who made the ups and downs that come with starting over in a new place more than worth it. They are the largest reason this was such a good experience for me.

-Waking up with a purpose every day. This is tough to explain, but I’ll try. A lot of time, money, and opportunities were sacrificed for me to have the experience of living and studying in England for the semester, and the only way to make it all worth it was to embrace the experience and everything it could teach me. In a weird way, I gave myself permission to make the here and now the center of my world; not my studies, my social life, others’ expectations, my past or my future, but the present. Sometimes I succeeded, other times, I failed, but I never doubted that I was there for a reason, to learn and enjoy my time to the utmost. It felt like a long vacation from my real life. Although just to be clear, I should point out that this isn’t an absolute truth. Of course I paid attention to my classes, of course I applied for internships in the interest of my future, and of course I didn’t forget about my life in the U.S. It’s just that these issues lost some of their intensity with the physical distance, and now that I’m back home, it’s hard to feel that same sense of purpose with all of these concerns back in focus.

-Lastly, blogging. Constantly writing a summary of my time there forced me to reflect on this journey as I went along. This was valuable in so many ways, and in the process, I created a (novel-length) document that I will look back on in five, ten, and fifteen years to remember this exciting period of my life; in addition, I think it has made me a better writer. Perhaps even more importantly, I’ve gained confidence in my writing from all of your compliments and just knowing that someone other than my parents thought this was worth reading. So, a big thank you to all of you for bearing with me through exams, volcanoes, clubbing and everything else over the past few months. And if anyone has suggestions for any future blog topics, let me know! There’s no topic I enjoy writing about more than myself…

I’m no good at writing conclusions, mostly because as you’ve seen over the past few months, my writing goes on, and on, and on... I don’t know what I would do with myself if I wasn’t typing. So, I will lamely conclude that if you’re reading this, chances are I want to hear from you, so I look forward to seeing and catching up with you soon!

The End