Abroad Diaries: 24 Hours in London
Sunlight streams in through the thin crack between my curtains; it is time to start another day of my First Year Study Abroad Experience (FYSAE). It is 9 a.m.– early but not too early that getting out of bed is unbearable. The chill of Britain’s wind filters through my iron-trimmed window, and that means getting dressed quickly is favorable. I put on my jeans, sweater, and boots, and take my time with the rest of the getting-ready process. Within an hour, my teeth are brushed, my makeup is done, my hair has been styled, my boots are on, and my backpack is stuffed with the necessities for a busy Tuesday in London.
My noise-canceling headphones are on, “Kiwi” by Harry Styles blasting, and I head down the stairs of the Princess Elizabeth House to make my way to school. But don’t worry, I’d never forget to pet the house cat, Casper, on my way out.
In a leisurely stroll, I head to the Archway Tube station– about a 12-minute walk from housing. I admire the cobblestone streets of our “posh” neighborhood, Highgate, as our tour guide called it during orientation week. Turning the corner out of Highgate and heading down a sizable hill, I begin to encroach on Archway, a neighboring town. Down the hill I walk; past a McDonald’s, a dog-friendly café, and a few Italian restaurants. I pull out my public transit card, tap into the Tube station, and board the Northern Line train to Bloomsbury.
After a 45-ish minute commute (not too crowded, I even got my own seat on the train), I arrive at Holborn Station and walk five minutes toward school. I have about 15 minutes until class, and Farmer J on the corner is looking more enticing by the moment. I head into the café and treat myself to a vegan chocolate chip banana bread muffin and an iced vanilla latte with oat milk. Goods in hand, I march about 30 paces to the Arcadia Centre and into my first class of the day.
It is now 11 a.m., and I am in “The London Novel.” We’ve been discussing The Picture of Dorian Gray and how Oscar Wilde depicts London as a transitioning city at the turn of the 19th century. Last week, we visited the National Gallery as a class to study a few different paintings from the era and relate them to the action of Wilde’s novel.
By 12:30 p.m., my literature class is over, and I cross the street from the Arcadia Centre and into a British classic: Pret à Manger. I purchase a Bacon-Lettuce-Tomato sandwich with crispy marinated mushroom substituted for the pork and throw in a bag of salt and vinegar crisps. Making a comfortable place for myself in the busy café, I throw those headphones on once again and enjoy my lunch with the latest season of Gossip Girl playing on my phone. Slightly hurrying is mandatory, as my second class has a walking tour today.
For my first-year required course, “Showcasing the Nation,” the professor is leading the class on a guided tour of Westminster and the surrounding area. We’re studying war memorials; we make sure to pay a visit to Trafalgar Square, which is chock-full of them. We pass by the prime minister’s house and Big Ben, and we end in Parliament Square to pay respect to some statues of famous figures (like Abraham Lincoln and Gandhi). By the end of the tour, my fingers are numb, but I definitely have enough good content to craft a thoughtful essay about the ways in which Britain memorializes tragic events.
After thanking my professor for his insightful guidance, my friends and I split off from the group and into Westminster Tube station to do some last-minute shopping in Soho. It’s around 3:30 p.m. now. Of course, we visit the famous Carnaby Street and its surrounding area. I spend a little too much money at Urban Outfitters and Brandy Melville– I can’t be blamed, it is unfortunately necessary that I immortalize my time in London by buying every bag and sweatshirt adorned with a Union Jack.
When my group decides we’re too tired to aimlessly wander the packed streets of the shopping district any longer, we head back to our house on the Tube and then take a bus up that aforementioned giant hill (there’s no way that’s getting hiked with my fifty-pound backpack). Finally, I am home at last. I change into comfortable clothes and realize Tuesdays are my nights to cook dinner– good thing I grocery-shopped yesterday. I chef up Greek-inspired bowls for my groups of friends made up of lemony roasted potatoes, falafels, vegan tzatziki, and a fresh, chopped vegetable salad. My friends are grateful for my cooking; it turned out to be delicious!
I am thankful for an adventure-packed day in London. Although I might be exhausted by the time my head hits my pillow, there’s no other way I’d want to spend these precious 15 weeks on FYSAE. Cheers to making the most of studying abroad and the eight weeks I have left!
