These streets have too many names for me

Before I begin to spew my first impressions of London town, I want to mention briefly the time I spent at Yale before I went away. To start off with, I want to apologize to anyone who wanted to see me but who I was unable to see while I was there. There were just too many awesome people and no where near enough time to chill with them all. But don't worry, I will be back in January and we shall have glorious times upon my return.

Are you familiar with that feeling you get when you first get back on a school campus after a long break? You pause for a moment, look around, fill your lungs deep with the surrounding air and then let the breath rush away as you propel yourself into another year, another fresh start. Well on my most recent stay at the beloved blue and white, I tried to do this. I paused for that moment (check), I looked around in a nostalgic manner (check), I took the deep breath (check), and I let it go (check). But for some reason something was different. For some reason, it didn't feel the same.

Now, I say for some reason, but I know exactly the reason why. I was not truly back on campus. I mean yes, I was physically on campus, but I wasn't truly back. Being at Yale for those few days, knowing that I was not going to be moving into my room, frantically bluebooking the night before classes start, planning what shows I was going to audition for, and deciding the best ways to fulfill my core requirements while doing the least amount of work, was an interesting experience. I felt very separated from the students around me, as if I was on the outside of a window, peering through it, seeing all of the business and preparation, yet not being a part of any of it.

While this brought with it a feeling of sadness, it also gave me an immense sense of freedom. My only goal in those few days was to chill with friends and enjoy the little taste of Yale that I was able to get before my trip across the pond (btw, New Morse looks amazing). And that free sense did not just simply come from me not having to get anything done in those few days, it also came from, and was rooted in, the fact that I was not going to be returning to Yale until January.

While I love my university to death, it is has become known for creating what is affectionately called the Yale "bubble." When on campus, it is so easy to get dragged into and blinded by all of the activities you want to be a part of, and groups you want to join, and auditions for this thing and that thing, and all of the awesome classes you think you are going to take, etc. (I could go on forever) that it is very very easy to lose sight of the big picture, not seeing the forest for the trees, to use a cliche.

This time around, I could see the forest, and while part of me wanted to jump back in and disappear in the foliage, the rest of me was sort of happy to get a semester's respite.

The feeling of freedom was a welcome surprise for me, but, by far, the MOST welcome surprise of my stay was a party that was thrown for me by a couple of my friends. It was in honor of my going away for a semester. Now what surprised me the most was no so much that there was a party planned (I mean, the thought is shocking, but the surprise was a bit ruined when I first got onto campus by a friend mentioning it and then hastily trying to cover up by saying he was misinformed) but the number of people who actually came to this thing. It was very touching to see so many people show up (and if you are reading this and thinking to yourself "why was I not invited?" I'm sorry, I was clearly not the one responsible for the guest list :-P)

I slept well that night.

The next day I saw a couple of other people that I had neglected for the past couple days and then I headed back home to finish packing for London.

Now that I've recapped pre-London, we have reached arou feature presentation.

The tube is one of the best railway systems I have ever ridden, but the layout of the streets make absolutely no sense whatsoever. My attempt to walk from the tube station to my residence hall was one that I will not soon forget. Picture this: me with a large rolling suitcase and a smaller duffel bag on top being dragged around by my right hand, a shoulder bag strapped around one shoulder, a laptop bag strapped around the other and a suite bag tightly gripped in my left hand. Now picture me walking around southern London for an hour and a half in what felt like circles looking for a road that everyone knew the general direction of but no one was able to give me exact instructions on how to reach. They were all only able to offer the advice of "zigzagging" in a vaguely diagonal fashion until by the grace of some higher power, I actually happen upon this elusive destination.

After about what according to my feet and arms felt like a years worth of walking (and I say walking, but what I mean is walking and stopping, walking and stopping - the stopping being due to the fact that after a while the already heavy bags began to feel as if they were made of solid marble) I decided to just give up any semblance of shame and whipped out an entire map of London in hopes of finding my tiny little road on a tinny little corner of the map that was clearly more catered towards those looking for large tourist attractions such as Big Ben and the like.

Thankfully, after about 15 minutes of rotating the map around in circles in the classically "I'm so effing lost" fashion, I was rescued by this wonderful British gentleman (and his American companion) who knew EXACTLY where the road I was looking for was and was able to even tell me how far down the building I wanted would be. Where was this guy an hour ago?? Oh well, no matter.

I thanked him, and I was on my way. With his direction I found the place no problem and was able to move my things into the room.

There is more than I want to say, but I will say it at a later date. It is about 1am at the moment and I need my sleep.

Until next time!