We are in Brighton in a Cath Kidson store (kinda like the tea-and-crumpets-drenched British cousin of Vera Bradley). Amongst the explosion of rose printed everything, I spot an adorably knitted little cap.
"Ah darn," I lament. "It’s too small for my head!"
"You idiot," my charming friends respond, "That’s not a hat -- that’s a tea cozy."
Since arriving in the big bad city of London for my semester abroad, I had felt that I was constantly dodging flying on slaughters to my dignity and well-being really, cutthroats like the Barclay’s ATM machines, snotty shopkeepers, the exchange rate, the weather, Tube maps, Regent Park swans, you name it -- all out for my blood. As much as I wanted to love London, the crowds and the January chill wore my morale thin.
Looking back, some of my self-consciousness was no doubt my own projected insecurities. But at the time it seemed as if the city knew I was a lamb out for slaughter. Especially in London. London is a city for models and royals and people who think nothing of popping into Topshop and dropping a hundred quid. Everyone was interesting, and me, I was merely the peasant standing next to them on the Tube hoping it would drop me at Waterloo, not Timbucktoo. To banally quote Dickens, “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.”
Eventually, however, I learned to adapt and survive. I figured out the major Tude and bus routes and how to tell things in military time. I bought Chelsea boots, plaid scarves, and a cheap Zara overcoat and wore them like camouflage. I even learned to speak like the natives as well -- words like "biscuit," "lovely," and "modules" all slyly slipped their way into my vocabulary. I learned to stop caring about what people thought of me, and start enjoying my surroundings. I learned that London is both a park stroll and an urban cowboy standing behind you in the Tesco queue. It’s a Pret-A- Manger on every corner. It’s market days and a pint after work with the lads. I learned that the city was a modern, multi-ethnic and yet cobblestoned entity, and while I don’t think I truly learned all the ticks and tricks to London living, I marveled at the way the city pulsed.
And here’s the most important thing I learned -- living abroad can change the way you live. Because living abroad is one of the most challenging and exciting things a person can do, the very process unearths a different you -- a person who is comfortable with the uncomfortable, whose worldview has swelled, and whose capabilities have doubled as well. You can never go back from that, but you can strive to fill your life with the same wonder and beautiful that was apart of your life then. I miss London, but today I dream of the other adventures to come.
