Last London Thoughts

Here it is: The end!

All the other students in my group have left, and I’m leaving tomorrow. Boston via Iceland. After Katie and Megan left, I finished packing and decided to take one more stroll downtown while the light lasted. It’s been getting dark here around 4pm. So I started walking towards Islington centre, grabbed a bus and got off at one of my favorite shops. I looked for the last time at all their cool stationary and funky kids toys. I stuffed my hands in my pockets and headed out into the cold, intending to catch the bus.

But instead, I walked. I looked for the last time at the three story brick faces of the buildings that lined the street. I said goodbye to the tiny chimneys (that still remind me of Mary Poppins every time I see them). I said goodbye to the bus stops, our tube station, the hilariously named pub next to our tube station (“The Famous Cock”), and lastly to Highbury Fields/ the walk home. 

I don’t know how many times I’ve done that walk. To and from the tube station. The beautiful townhouses that line the street, and the large green park lined with trees. When I came to London, the trees were green and there was always a Piccadilly Whip van on the sidewalk. He left when october came, and the leaves colored and fell with November. Now the bare trees surround a still green park, and as I walked by today I relished the familiar site of dogs running leash-less to catch a ball.

As I took a last glance at the town houses, I marveled one more time at their dizzy symmetry, reminiscent of a Bridget Riley piece. I looked for the last time at the busy tennis courts, and my favorite place to get an americano—the oasis in the park cafe. 

It was sad, but I’m ready to hug my mom.

love, actually.

We all watched ‘Love Actually’ this week, and as one of my favorite and most watched movies, I was surprised to find something new when I watched it this time. All the background scenes of London are now sort of familiar!! Crazy, right? The first time there was a shot of the millennium bridge and St. Paul’s we all squealed—“We’ve been there! We know where that is!” Other, less recognizable ‘London’ scenes had us guessing—“Is that off of Oxford Street? Is that on our way to church?” We recognized places and for that reason alone it was a great movie to watch together as a London group. On the downside—I always forget how ‘Love Actually’ is a fairly awkward group movie, and the only reason I like it is because I’ve watched it so many times that I just laugh at the unnecessary parts and have grown to love the characters more over time. In that way I was probably a bad person to watch it with, because I laughed and gasped when I knew something was coming, and tried to constantly make excuses for the characters. So here, I want to apologize to anyone who’s movie watching experienced was tarnished by my enthusiasm. Please watch it again, if only for the catchy theme song.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=meU4cxhdjJI&feature=related

Hazel

When my friends visited they were able to meet Hazel, my favorite older woman from church. Rachel and I met Hazel after a few Sundays of attending church. I think the first week we sat with her friend from Northern Ireland, and heard all about her job as a missionary teacher, before she retired to her home in Northern Ireland. I believe it was that day that Hazel first warmly greeted us with a mile wide smile and nodding head, probably saying her usual “Good morning! Good morning! How are you girls today?”

Hazel is famous at church for her cakes. Every Sunday all the kids line up and wait for Hazel to lay out her cake on the dessert table. Her cakes are the best, and usually really interesting flavors. The two I remember the most are a nut cake with coffee frosting, and a chocolate cake with balsam plum with chocolate butter cream frosting. Delicious and made by Hazel! Every week she’s been such a wonderful encouragement and welcoming personality. But she also shared with Rachel and I about her struggles, about the people in her life she needed prayer for and about her searching for God through a crazy schedule.

Her honesty inspired me to think honestly about my struggles, and her hospitality inspired me to be genuinely welcoming. Hazel is one I will definitely miss. And not just because she makes amazing cakes.

friend visit

My friends Monica and Kristen visited me in London. The coolest part was that they were here to visit me, not to visit London. That made me feel under less pressure to be a tour guide, and able to just relax and show them the London I love and not just the big London sites. We wandered through Angel on our first day, looking at all the cute shops and sipping a latte at an Italian café. We just talked, and it was wonderful to be with them, just talking. They went with my to my service project and saw what I do every Wednesday night—serve food, hang out with Denise and Jo and eat delicious leftovers. We spent thanksgiving together, in the morning we toured around Carnaby Street and Oxford Street—a highlight was when we stopped at Sacred café for a latte and then found the Oxford Street Anthropologie—AHH!!!! And then in the afternoon I cooked with my fellow Londoners while they both took naps. After dinner we went to Wicked and then stayed up late watching Glee and laughing.

The next day they slept in while I worked on my art paper and then we met Danielle for lunch at Hummus Bros, a delicious unconventional lunch spot. After lunch we wandered around St. Pauls and across the Millennium Bridge and took pictures with the Tower Bridge in the background. Then we jumped on the tube and headed to Covent Garden, ate some Ben’s Cookies, walked through the market and then down a side street. We walked until we found ourselves at Trafalgar Square, and then per my suggestion, popped into the Waterstone’s bookstore. Kristen found lots to buy, and Monica found lots to laugh at, so we spent a lot of time just looking at books and laughing.

That night we picked up dinner and ate it in PJs while watching ‘Peter’s Friends’ a kind of sketchy but well acted movie.

The next day we did some hard-core tourism hitting a bunch of major London spots: Notting Hill, Abbey Road, Baker Street, Regents Park, Harrods, and Platform 9 ¾ Kings Cross. Exhausting but fun, I think it was necessary to have one busy touristy day in order to get everything done.

Sunday we went to church, and then they left! Going to church with them was so fun because at home they are the friends I go to church with. I’ve missed sitting in the same pew with them this semester, and after the service talking about the sermon we’ve heard. I love my church family here, and it was such a blessing to me to have some of my church family from home visit my church family here. So going to church was probably one of my highlights from their visit.

Bronte Country

Yesterday I walked on the Moors of Bronte Country. I saw the sun rise over the bleak beds of heather and many moss covered boulders. The atmosphere of the moors was bleak, gloomy and awe inspiring. Charlotte could have walked through the same muddy path.

Saturday I walked through the Parsonage where the Bronte family lived, now a museum displaying their personal artifacts and chronicling their lives. Standing in their small sitting room, where the three sisters, Charlotte, Emily and Anne walked around the table together discussing their writings before sitting to write their masterpieces, was just so cool. If only those walls could talk, the story they could tell would be one of heartbreak and disappointment, the deepest of familial love, and the scrapings of young people trying to understand the world around them. After the deaths of Emily and Anne, Charlotte continued their nightly promenade around the sitting room, alone. How devastating is that? I had never realized before how she must have felt to be the living survivor of her closest companions. 

I also never knew how rough a life their brother had. As the only boy in the family, much was expected of him, and he was crushed under that responsibility. He lived half in the real world, and half in his own imagination. He was an impressive artist, but lacked commitment and constancy. He bummed around the countryside, working for a while where his sister Anne was as a governess, until his affair with the widowed mother of the children he taught was discovered and he left. Spurned by this woman, he returned home and was consumed by an addiction to alcohol and opium.

His dark and disturbed life, I’m convinced, had great affect on the  writings and musings of his literary sisters. Especially his sister Anne and her novel, Tenant of Wildfell Hall.

Walking the streets of Haworth today, their dark past is only visible through the lens of imagination. At the time of the Bronte’s Haworth was situated between two factories, the main occupation of most villagers was spinning wool in their homes. The streets ran with sewage and as a result disease ran rampant in the small town. Living in the parsonage, they basically lived inside the cemetery, and they must have heard funerals very frequently from inside their house. Death completely surrounded them.

By just reading about them, I would not have been able to understand like I do now about their situation and environment. By going there, walking in their shoes, seeing the same streets, cemetery and moors they must have seen: I understand more deeply. By visiting the Bronte’s like you would a distant relative or new friend, I understand them better by taking the time to get acquainted.

missing

I put one boot in the Metropolitan line, and you hit me like a wave
dripping from the carpeted bucket seats, running down the isles
you splashed into every crevice
you made the air full with your humidity
will you cloud the windows?
Corrupting the bushes, obscuring the pot shaped chimneys
on red earth roofs.
Will you leak on my neighbor
the suit stricken news paper glued tight upper lip?
You’re not allowed on my face, my eyes are dry,
oh new friend leave here
Let me continue on my journey,
leave me without anymore thought of home—
look: Baker Street.
Go to the Sherlock Holmes Museum, waste
some unsuspecting time there
like other tourists
splash on the streets and clean the corners of London
by yourself 

British thinking

The conversation about British Culture and American Culture in Travel writing class was stimulating. It was a good reminder to me that I’m living in a different culture, a fact that’s easy to forget because we speak the same language and I hang out with other Americans the majority of the time. 

When asked to describe British Culture the first thing he said was that the British do not like showing emotion in public. Whether it means joy or tear, emotion is not for public display. So today, when traveling alone in London to meet my friend for lunch I tried to embody this British attitude. I walked down the street purposefully avoiding eye contact instead of searching for it, like I usually do. I sat on the tube, reading my Islam Class notes with extreme fervor. I noticed when I walked down the street that I felt different when i consciously decided to not think about the people around me. It was a much more introspective trip through central london. 

This cultural experiment made me think about how much the culture we espouse really effects every part of our lives. It’s revealing to think about this, and even scary. Because if so much of my life is dictated by culture, how much of my life is really under God’s control? I constantly try to live in a way that is glorifying to God, but how much of that is contextualized in my culture?

For instance, hospitality is an attitude that Christians practice. Also, a general command to be friendly is often tagged onto the big umbrella term ‘Hospitality’. For example, I think it’s one of those unspoken American regional stereotypes that the South is friendlier than the North, probably because they are more culturally Christian. But how much of that simply is cultural? Because Christ sure isn’t asking us all to be southern Christians, He’s asking us to be genuine and giving and espouse His attitude towards each other. And that looks very different depending on what culture you’re living inside. 

The more I learn about the world, the more I see how God is Big.

Things I didn’t know/ know now!

My nails have grown, my hair has grown, my feet are tired, my arches falling. My eyes have seen places my mind has imagined my whole life. My brain hurts from being stretched by thinking new and unexpected thoughts. My wardrobe has grown despite the tiny room and non-existent closet. I never thought this much about how much money I spend, and what is right to buy and what is just plain selfish. I didn’t think about God’s plan for me including poetry and art, I didn’t actually think much about either before now.

I never knew what homesickness felt like. It hurts to think of home, and my grandparents, and how desperately I want to give them hugs and hear their hearing aids hum in my ear. I miss home, down to the pot holes on my cul-de-sac. I miss faces and expressions on my closest family and friends. But weirdly—I never knew how much Europe could feel like a place I belong.

I didn’t know that I could understand the tube system as well as I do now. I didn’t know that being out at night in the busy city could be comfortable, even hilarious. I wouldn’t have guessed that I could feel comfortable ordering a burger in a pub, or traveling by train to places I’d never heard of.

Who knew?

tuesday poem

My heart flaps free, a flag
open, unfurling in conflicting winds
closed often, a shell escaping turtle
you gone, I cannot bare
the thought breaks the wall, opens what is closed
You safe, a thick wet fog
curls and chills and obscures
turning my collar, snaking my scarf around my neck
I want warmth to stick and soak to every fibre
the fire is far but the moment clear and bright

an edinburgh walk, composed a week ago.

I went out on Saturday morning for a walk by myself. I woke up early, bundled up in all the layers I brought, and grabbed my room key before heading out the door. The rising sun shone brilliantly around me, but didn’t warm the bitter November morning one bit.  I walked up the street towards Edinburgh Centre, the cold air making my eyes water. After a number of rainy days, I felt like a bird on her first flight walking around in the sun. I was stretching my wings that morning, all alone in a new place I could breathe a little fuller, excitement mixing with adventure filling my lungs. My original idea was to reach a park off of the main street that I saw quickly from the second floor of a double-decker bus. But after walking a bit my stomach reminded me that I needed to get back within the next twenty minuets for breakfast. So on a whim I cut off onto a side street. The little winding road with trees and ivy covered sandstone walls lead to a bigger street with impressive sandstone houses. The garden walls and sidewalks were edged with a layer of green moss, the result of the damp cold characteristic of Britain. I consulted my map briefly to figure out a route back to the guesthouse via back roads. Strolling down the side streets I let my mind wander and expand, trying not to think specifically about anything but just look and absorb my solitary surroundings. I took a few sly pictures and slowly returned to my friends, completely refreshed and ready for an exciting day at the Castle.