Up until the fall of 2014 I had never strayed far from North America though I did have great intentions to do so. As a freshman, I decided that, despite many lasting memories of growing up from high school and playing hockey, my life needed a new element to it. Traditionally, I had been a minimal risk taker and usually did things by the book. This is why the decision to move nearly four thousand miles across the pond came as such a surprise to most that knew me well. Granted, some of my motives for leaving were based on experiencing international academia and internship opportunities, but wholeheartedly my true intentions were based on finding a new experience.
I took the red-eye from JFK to Heathrow at 9 p.m. on September 3. As I passed through security I gazed toward my family until they were out of my line of sight. I embraced the lack of guidance that was bestowed upon me. At this moment, the umbilical cord was cut and I was to be on my own for the next few months. It was a brief moment of confusion, excitement, fear, faith and clarity. I will never forget this moment; it was a point of realization for me and without it I do not think that my experience would have been the same. I arrived at my flat in London the next morning.
Given my rigorous work schedule coupled with a day and a half full of coursework, my weekdays were not necessarily conducive to intercity travel, which is why I cherished the time I had on Tuesday afternoons to explore. I would spend a few days researching a neighborhood and then scope it out after class. Sometimes with a friend and other times alone, but either way I came back with new insight on the city that had become my home. It was more than an afternoon looking at the work of Turner or eating at that week’s “best spot for curry” on Brick Lane. I became acclimated to some of London’s hidden gems such as Neal’s Yard, the roof of One New Change Shopping Center and the gum art on the Millennium Bridge. I was part of the city, yet almost every day I was able to find something new.
Most of those who were close to me were aware that my camera came with me everywhere I went. Days into my semester abroad I realized that I needed to document many of my experiences. Photography was a new interest of mine before I left, and I am fortunate enough to have some great friends who were experienced photographers who taught me tricks of their trade. My focuses were mainly landscapes and street art. Living in Camden and spending plenty of time in Shoreditch allowed me to constantly be surrounded by street art. In these neighborhoods, the streets were a medium for expression, which was something that I had not encountered before. I studied a course in British pop culture that lured me to this new interest. Photography was an important part of my travels to other cities as well; my camera was always the first thing I packed.
Before September 2014, I visited two countries; between then and the end of December I went to nine. During these travels, I saw historic gems such as the Sistine Chapel, Stonehenge, the Mona Lisa, the Berlin Wall, the Anne Frank House and many others. I was also fortunate to see personal sites such as La Porta Santa Maria in Naples, where in 1902 my great-grandfather embarked on the American Dream. I was the first member of my family to visit Italy since he had departed. My time abroad was an opportunity for self-discovery, and coming back to my family’s roots played a pivotal role.
One of my more humbling (sober) moments came at 2 a.m. on a Monday on following one of many enjoyable hockey practices in Streatham. I had taken the bus to the city centre for a transfer to Camden and walked across Westminster Bridge between stops. As I stood in front of Big Ben, I scanned my surroundings and recognized that there was not another person in sight, not even a car or bus. At this modern marvel, which millions of people pass by on a daily basis, I stood alone. As simple as this brief event may seem, to me it was incredible. I tried to explain it to friends the next day and no one was able to relate, which is perfectly fine. This was a truly personal experience, and I learned that the moments that often cannot be by anyone other than oneself are a critical part of the adventure.
I spent an unforgettable four months living and traveling in Europe. If I could do it again I would. The experience has opened many new doors for me in many aspects of my life. I made friends from all over the world and made a lifetime of memories. For those who are uncertain of whether they should stray from the beaten path for a while, my advice is: buy the ticket and take the ride.
