O City, My City!

This is a continuation of my previous entry London Calling! about my love for and my experiences in the UK and more specifically, my beloved London.

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When I got on the plane in Atlanta to fly to London for the spring semestre in 1997, I had no idea what wonderful adventures and experiences awaited me. I had, of course, heard the stories of previous study abroad students, but nothing could have begun to prepare me for what awaited me when I got off the plane at Gatwick Airport that brisk January morning.

We arrived in London and took a coach from the airport to the study center where we would be living for the term to get settled into our new digs. I was excited to see all the famous sights I'd seen pictures of, but as Gatwick is about 30 miles outside central London, I was forced to wait a little bit as we trundled along in the coach. I nibbled on the Cadbury's chocolate that our program director had given us as we arrived and watched green fields, houses, petrol stations, shops with unfamiliar names, and the flow of traffic on the left side of the road instead of the right.

Yummy, yummy! An assortment similar to what we nibbled on that first morning.

The ride was narrated by our study program director, but I barely heard her over the excitement in my brain. I am finally here!!! O city, MY city!! I am here!!! Several of my fellow students were drowsing despite the caffeine in the chocolate, but I was soaking it all in as I we rode along. Eventually, in the distance, I saw Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament, the dome of St. Paul's Cathedral, Tower Bridge, the Globe Theatre, and so many more familiar sights. Our coach took us through narrow lanes, main thoroughfares, and side streets and before long we were stopping in front of a set of neat row houses with a common sidewalk. I peered through the window and easily found the large black number "12" on the porch where the driver and program director were now standing with a couple of suitcases as the students began to file out. The columns of the porch were a pristine white with a set of grey stone steps leading from the sidewalk to the porch and the welcoming dark brown wooden front door. A quick glance up revealed several windows surrounded by beige brick and about four stories above the main entrance.

My home sweet home in London.

We clambered in through the two sets of doors and crowded with all our suitcases and bags into the front sitting room for a brief chat about house rules and a rundown on how room assignments would work. After this, we were instructed to take our belongings and go pick a room on the designated floor (male students on the second floor and females on the third through fifth floors). I made my way with the throng of twenty-one other students, panting and grunting as we hefted our suitcases up the red carpeted staircase. By the time I'd gotten to the third floor, I was pooped, so I grabbed the first room that I saw as I reached the landing. It was a smallish room with a desk and chair, chest of drawers, a bunk bed, and sink with two faucets and a mirror above it. I stood in the doorway to catch my breath a bit and then saw the window. Immediately I was seized with the need to look out and I was not disappointed.

It was out of that window that I saw my first glimpse of central London from a little bit of height. Just below me was the coach parked in the street, but at eye level was the beautiful foliage of a tree across the street on the hotel property and then beyond that, more row houses. I opened the window and leaned out a bit to look left and right down the street. Parked cars and more row houses, black taxis, the odd tree or shrub. I was captivated by all of it. When I looked to the right, a head popped out of the window adjacent mine and looked at me. It was one of my fellow students who'd had the same idea. We both grinned at each other with a look that clearly said, "I can't believe we're finally here!" and then ducked inside and met each other in the hall to chatter excitedly as we went all the way to the ground floor (below where we'd come in) to breakfast room as we'd been instructed.

The breakfast room was a large spacious room with several oblong tables surrounded by chairs. At the back what looked like two large, deep book shelves which were empty at present. There was a small refrigerator against one side wall and a long table stretched the length of the front wall. On the same side of the room with the refrigerator, was an open doorway in to what was obviously a kitchen of some sort. There was a hot water kettle, tea bags, and milk and sugar on the long table at the front of the room. After several jet lagged yawns, I decided to make myself what would become the first of many cups of tea during this semestre. Our program director welcomed us all to London and gave us packets with more information about the house rules and procedures which she went over verbally.

After her presentation, she announced that to keep us awake for the duration of the day (it was only about 9:30am) we would be leaving in a little bit to go on a walking tour of our neighbourhood and parts of central London with a registered Blue Badge guide. We met the guide in the entryway and he took us all over the neighbourhood. Some of the things we learned included that one of the duo of Gilbert and Sullivan had lived just a block away from us, that Queen Elizabeth was at home (look for the flag above Buckingham Palace), and that there are four connected parks in the middle of London -- Kensington, Hyde, Green, and St. James. When we got to St. James park, our guide bid us farewell and our program director told us that we were free to explore London on our own for the remainder of the day. She admonished us to force ourselves to stay up until at least 8:30pm to help our bodies adjust to the +6 hour time difference between Alabama and London and then she waved goodbye and we were all on our own.

St. James park, looking west toward Buckingham Palace

A frisson of excitement went through me at the prospect of being all on my own in this amazing international city, able to roam about unfettered by parents and do absolutely whatever I liked without worrying about anyone approving or disapproving or telling me that it was dangerous or worrying about something happening to me. I and a couple of my fellow students set out together, walking, window shopping, and soaking in everything we could see. We stopped for a sandwich at lunch and hit the winter sale at Harrod's where we planned what we might come back and buy. There was a beautiful black hat that caught my eye. Only £25! After our lengthy tour of Harrod's department store, we meandered our way back through Knightsbridge toward home.

Harrod's of Knightsbridge -- an entire square block of everything and anything you could ever want from food to furs to jewelry to shoes to furniture. Want something they don't have? They'll order it for you -- no matter what it is.

When we got to the corner where our local tube station was, we all decided to grab a bite to eat at the corner pub. Inside, it was a bit smoky, but not stifling and after placing our order at the bar, we grabbed a table near a window to watch the world go by outside. In the UK, the legal drinking age is 18 and as we were all well past that, my friends all decided to partake of a pint of beer with their food. I was the lone non-drinker, but I didn't care. I was just thrilled with the idea that I could order a drink legally if I so chose. Our food arrived and everyone tucked in. I had ordered an Indian chicken curry. It came with chips (what we Americans call fries) which was very strange to me, but is apparently quite common in Britain. It wasn't good at all. I'd never had Indian food, so I wasn't sure what it should taste like but something told me that it wasn't supposed to taste like this. Maybe it was the combination of curry and chips or maybe it just wasn't the best thing to order at that pub. Either way, I only wound up eating about a fourth of it before giving it up as not worth it.

The pub nearest our study center. Not a bad place, just don't order the curry! ;)

After supper, we stopped by the adjacent 24 hour grocery for a few items for the next day and walked the two blocks back to the study center. By this point, it was just after 7:00pm and we were all thoroughly exhausted from the combination of jet lag and all the adventures of the day. The rest of my companions decided that it was close enough to 8:30, so they were going to ignore the program director's admonition and go on to bed. I was sorely tempted to follow suit, but decided to stay up. I got into comfortable clothes and padded down to the landing between the second and third floors where the payphone was located to make a couple of calls. The first was to a British friend of mine who was, at the time, living and studying in Cardiff, Wales. I wanted to let him know I'd arrived, chat a bit, and try to find a time to get together. Second, I wanted to call my parents and say hello. I'd called them earlier in the day just to let them know I'd arrived safely, but I hadn't had much time to talk. I filled them in on my first day and then, because I was practically falling asleep sitting up, I said my goodbyes and headed upstairs to bed. You would think that I would be able to close my eyes and go unconscious immediately, but as soon as I laid down, my mind was racing, thinking of the day's events and wondering what the next day would bring. Eventually, even with all my excitement, my body's need for rest overtook me and I slipped into sleep.

"To sleep, perchance to dream..." -- Hamlet, Act III, scene I