The Journey Home

I woke up Saturday morning with a fairly large task at hand: fitting everything I had acquired during the semester into my two suitcases, one carry-on and one personal bag. In a definitely non-hoardish way, I had collected a lot of random ticket stubs and magazines over the semester (my desk drawer was stuffed with random papers) and was hoping to finish scrap-booking and throw the rest of the scraps away. But with our coach bus arriving in two hours, there was no such time. Rather than risk throwing away a potential scrap of paper for my book, I decided to bring it all with me to the airport (Am I brilliant or what??). So I stuffed my backpack with trash, squeezed the rest of my clothes into the two suitcases, and looked around. I had no room for all of my school books. I absolutely had to bring them home. Ignoring the time, I decided to pack them in a box and mail them to Ellington. (Dad has since told me that it would have been cheaper to re-buy all of my books than it was to mail them home. But oh well.) So as everyone else in my flat was taking pictures of themselves in and around the house in tearful goodbyes, I was making my way to the post office. 

All my bags are full. Now what? 

I probably should mention two other things. First, I had laundry in the wash. (Why? Because  I wanted clean clothes to wear for the flight and it seemed logical at the time.) Second, I was wearing my pajamas; all my clothes were either packed or in said wash. And unlike in America, no civilized person in London wears pajamas in public. Furthermore, the buses were infrequent because it was weekend, so I had to walk the entire way down the hill to Archway. Carrying a heavy box. Wearing heavy rain boots. To say I was stressed would be an understatement.  

My anxiety continued to increase once I reached the post office. The line for sending packages was almost out the door, and there were only two staff members working at the desk. Fully aware of how disheveled I looked, I tried to pass the time by making conversation with an old English couple who were sending Christmas presents to their grand kids. I probably further solidified the "Lazy, Impatient American" stereotype  but that was the least of my worries. Time was ticking. The coach bus was expected to arrive at 11:30 and it was already 10:30. I began to imagine what it would be like to miss the bus entirely. 

Waiting for the bus that never came...

The man at the front desk could tell I was stressed, and rather than working faster, he decided to try to calm me down. He left for what felt like five minutes and came back with a glass of water, telling me to "drink and you'll feel better." Um, thank you but all I need is for you to process my package, please. I left with a 300 dollar charge on my credit card, but I was too concerned with making it back up the hill to worry about it. 

Waiting for the guy to come back with water...

I reached the driveway to find the coach bus already there. It had arrived early. Panicked, I ran to the laundry room. Anna had switched my load for me, but my clothes were far from dry. I debated wearing wet clothes to the airport. Then I threw the load back in and went upstairs. I hadn't managed to fit everything into the two suitcases, so I decided to use several bags and work on consolidating when I got to the airport. With minutes to spare, I brought everything down to be loaded onto the bus, and then stood waiting in front of the dryer. (Every minute counts, right?) I was get a few "goodbye" photos in while I waited, and miraculously, the load finished before the coach bus guy was ready to leave.

(Left: Kellie and Me, Middle: My room before I threw everything into a random bag, Right: one last glance at my flat). 

I brought scissors and glue with me on the coach bus, set up a trash bag, and managed to finish my scrapbook during the drive to the airport. Throwing away all the scrap paper, I had plenty of room in my backpack for my newly washed laundry and the other odds and ends I had with me. Scrapbook? Check. Consolidation? Check. I call that a success!

At the airport, we said goodbye to Emma Grant (our Student Services Officer at the London Center, right), checked our bags, and headed for airport security. In case you are wondering, scrap-booking scissors are not allowed through!

Emelie and I continued our tradition of airport dining. Conveyor belt sushi :)

And then we boarded the plane. I still had one last final to submit, and I planned to work on it on the plane. I was too giddy, though, and ended up watching Tarzan and talking with friends until we arrived in Newark. 

Marisa, Anna, Amanda and Me as we stood in line to leave baggage claim; minutes before seeing our families.

Our families weren't allowed to meet us at baggage claim, so we said most of us our goodbyes as we waited for our luggage. It was a sweet moment, albeit hectic; I was experiencing so many mixed emotions. I couldn't wait to see my family, but I knew that as soon as I left baggage claim, my semester abroad would officially be over.   

And now that it is (and has been for awhile), I've come to several realizations:

10.) I learned that Europe has mastered public transportation.

9.) I learned that putting milk in tea is not as gross as it sounds.

8.) I learned that UK school systems are vastly different from ours...dare I say better? 

7.) I learned that dressing up for school every day is not the worst thing. 

6.) I learned that Thanksgiving is (almost) as good overseas. 

5.) I learned that the United States is very large (in more ways than one).

4.) I learned that money is just that. 

3.) I learned that nothing replaces family.

2.) I learned that I'm just a little spec in the universe, and that can get kinda lonely. 

But, most of all:

1.) I learned that God is the same God in London and that there are plenty of "kindred spirits" all around the world...I just need to let Him lead me to them!

It’s been a crazy journey. Thanks for following along! 

Goodbyes

We are already reaching midterms for the spring semester, and I haven't completely finished my blog entries for my time in London. So here are some pictures from the bittersweet last week in my temporary home:

(Left: Abriel made sweet cards for all of us, Middle: We decorated Christmas cards for the Arcadia staff, Right: Claire and I made one last meal using up the rest of our groceries)

Our flat Christmas party took place on Tuesday, and gave us all a well-needed break from studying. Anna gave out superlative awards and each of us won at least one. (Mine were, respectively, "Most likely to study for a test after the test" and "Most likely to be late to her own wedding.")

The next day, we gave our professor a superlative and a container of cookies. Then I spent the rest of the day focused on two finals.

On Thursday, I met up with Natalie to get ready for the Koinonia Christmas Party.

When she found out I had never had a Cadbury chocolate orange, she made me get one and open it right away. This video is of me struggling to understand how to correctly open one of these:

Soon, the rest of the gang showed up and we rushed to decorate the room for Christmas:

We played a swap game with the presents in which we could swap gifts throughout the entire evening. Some of the Koinonia boys found out I really wanted a mug with the map of London on it, and kept swapping to keep the mug in my hands. It was really sweet. I realized in that moment how much I had enjoyed being able to be with them every week.

(Left: Me and Amy, Right: Christmas Crackers: this game (with a similar concept as the Thanksgiving wish bone) is a holiday tradition in the UK. My friends were surprised I had never played before!) 

After the Christmas party, the gang headed to The Jack Horner pub, and it was there I said my goodbyes. As I was leaving the pub, Joe, the director of Koinonia, offered to walk me the station, so we walked together as I held back tears. 

Boy, do I miss this... I'm there in the front row, leaning over from laughing so hard. Good times. 

Friday consisted of packing, writing my last final, and scrap-booking.  

(Left: Claire, the ultimate packer; Me bidding goodbye to my worn out clothes and boots, My suitcase with several "Evening Standard" issues about America on Election Day for safekeeping.) 

I went to bed in classic Leah fashion: unpacked and with a detailed "To-Do" list for the morning. In less than 10 hours I would begin the journey home!

City of Love (Part Two)

I was looking forward to Monday morning all weekend because of one specific place. And it involved food (which is reason enough for excitement):

Olivia raved all week about this fancy, overpriced café with DELICIOUS food and superb service. Café de Flore, on Boulevard Saint-Germain, is one of two famous cafes frequented by Ernest Hemingway. It did not disappoint. 

Their hot chocolate is actually the best thing ever. 

Olivia loves this place partially because last time she visited, they willingly spoke French with her and her mom to help them practice. I let her take over ordering for the both of us :)

I highly recommend the Quiche :)

After a long brunch, we found ourselves at the bottom of the many steps that led to Sacré-Cœur:

 "Selfie-stops" gave us a good excuse to stop and catch our breath:

One of my favorite spontaneous moments of the entire Paris trip took place at Sacré-Cœur. I was a little nervous to be around a lot of pick-pockets. Olivia warned me about people who come up to tourists and ask them to sign a petition, which they use as a distraction tool to then steal a phone or  wallet. There were many "petitioners" around Sacré-Cœur, and it was almost too stressful to enjoy the view. So instead, we walked around to the back of the building and found several beautiful photo-worthy sights. (I'll spare you the many pictures):

The best part: all the other tourists were still in the front! It was so quiet and peaceful...with no "petitioners" in sight. 

The gardens here were so beautifully laid out...I can't imagine what they looked like in the spring!

After a little bit, we made our way back to the front to walk back down the steps. At the bottom of the hill, in front of Sacré-Cœur, we stopped for macaroons at Olivia's favorite shop:

Very aware that my days in Europe were coming to an end, I planned to take this (expensive!) package of sweets home to share with my family. That idea lasted about thirty minutes as my hunger reasoned with me: 1.) They might get squished in the luggagee  2.) They might lose flavor in the next few days and 3.) There were only four which meant one person would be left out...

 Needless to say, the macaroons did not make it to the United States!

The last landmark we visited in Paris was also a special moment. Here is the famous "Love Wall of Paris" ( a wall covered in the phrase "I love you" written in hundreds of different languages). 

I noticed an American couple near the wall, and offered to take their picture. In turn, they took this picture of Olivia and me. Turns out they were only in Paris for a short time, and were leaving for London next! Excited, I gave them my spare Oyster Cards along with several suggestions about where to visit. I realized in that moment that somehow I had officially become a Londoner.  I was as confident in my directions of London as I would be of any directions I gave around Ellington. (Quite frankly, maybe even more confident!) This realization hit me so suddenly I almost started to cry when I saw him put my Oyster Cards in his wallet. I didn't want to leave Paris because it meant I would only have a few days left in London.  

Olivia and I sat down on a bench near the wall to share a baguette. It was almost time to catch the metro back to the hostel. We watched the American couple leave, and I looked down at the business card he had given me. They were wedding photographers, and he told us girls to be in touch "down the road if you're looking for one." I laughed, but then I realized he wasn't kidding. He viewed me as as the adult I had become. After all, I was travelling without my parents in a foreign country...a trip I had planned entirely by myself and my friend. I wasn't a kid anymore.  

Disclaimer: I'm in no position to get married anytime soon!

Olivia and I got back to the hostel, returned our keys, and took our bags from the lockers there. At the airport, we were forced to go our separate ways at (our gates were in opposite directions). We weren't expecting such an abrupt goodbye, but managed to get one quick selfie before leaving. 

And just like that, I was back in London. With four days, three finals, and two essays left. 

Before I sign off, though, here's on last picture of Paris with a story that cracks me up:

As some of you may know, I tend to mix up words a lot. Olivia and I passed this bakery several times (it's right near our hostel) and she explained to me that "Patisserie" means "sweet bread" in French. I thought about this for a minute as we were walking, and then blurted out, "Oh, that makes sense! It's sweet. Like Patisserie chicken is kind of sweet." She looked at me, confused, and started to nod. Then she said, "Do you mean Rotisserie Chicken?" It's a good thing I'm good at laughing at myself. :D That 'Leahism' will probably go down in the books as one of the best.