By rlubitz
I’ve been here for about two and a half months now and I’ve got one month to go. I’ve got just under two weeks left to go of class and I’ve been sleeping until 1pm and staying up until 5am writing papers/watching The Hour. I feel worthless, constantly pinching myself over the fact that I can go outside and look at Big Ben for three hours if I wanted to but I don’t.
In the last few weeks that you’re in a foreign country where you don’t know when you’ll return you feel a lot of guilt. I feel guilty that I didn’t go out every weekend and that I haven’t seen Princess Kate coming out of a hair salon. I feel guilty that I haven’t met Judi Dench and that I haven’t been inside a real castle.
But I’m proud of my first week here. My first week here I went to every museum even if I was by myself. I went to all the markets just so I could say I saw them. I should have kept up my momentum but then I wouldn’t have made the great friends I’ve made and I wouldn’t have discovered how damn good The Hour is. My first week I was so full of anxious energy that I was rushing around in a panic checking things off my list. I checked most of them off and in the next two weeks I’m gonna check more off in an effort to stop myself from wasting it.
There are Christmas markets to see and the crown jewels. I need to see Prince Edward’s crown because when I was in the second grade I made a replica of it for class like a true NeRdDdDd. Thinking back to little me making that crown in my garage and then big me seeing it ten years later is really special.
Every time I go to a place now to see a new exhibit or to breathe some new air, there is a cloud of melancholy because I know that it will be my last time being there for a very, very long time. My days are numbered and I have to seriously pressure myself to never forget about my time here. In one month hearing a British accent will be exciting again. In one month I will have something called a job and some others things called responsibilities.
I’ve grown into this city. I always know where I am and where I’m going. I want to get lost again in the little back streets, I want my heart to race again knowing that it’s getting dark and I don’t know where I am. What’s beautiful about a city like this one is getting lost in it and finding a little record shop or quaint boutique and falling in love even if it’s for just a few seconds.
I’ve never gotten homesick and I’m still not at this moment but I can see myself sitting in class or at work thinking about the little breakfast place in Notting Hill with the blueberry pancakes or the shoe shop on Charing Cross with the killer oxfords. I’m gonna miss the graffiti and the filth. I’m gonna miss the smell of this town, a mix of street and sweet. I’m gonna miss people calling me ‘dear’ and my hairdresser who thinks I’m actually Australian. I’m gonna miss getting pushed around on the sidewalk and the taco place with the happy hour.
To be honest there’s not much I miss about Washington, DC but I’m gonna say that’s because I’ve never gotten truly lost. I’ve never not known where I am and I’ve never really stumbled on anything at all. When I get back I need do that because that’s what I realize now has made me fall in love with all the cities I’ve visited.
After all my papers are turned in I’ve got just a few days and then I’m off on a European adventure by train that is both exciting and nerve-racking. I love life on the road, sleeping on moving things and waking up in a different world. You can get lost every day, fall in love every day and live every day knowing you'll never do it again.