Home Again

After a 7 ½ hour flight to New York, a three hour layover, and a 1 a.m. landing in Syracuse, I finally made it home early Friday morning. This past weekend has been spent reflecting on my semester and basking in the familiar comforts of Baldwinsville. My time in London has affected me greatly, but the experience is hard to put into words.

Let’s be honest. I really didn’t go to London just to study. Getting credit for classes while there was like an added bonus. I went to London to learn about the world, and ended up learning even more about myself.

London taught me about different cultures, different ideals, and different values. It showed me that these can coexist, and that these differences should be celebrated, not ignored or rebuked. This lesson is one I will always remember, and will apply to all aspects of my life.

In London I learned that I could survive in a big city far from home. Before this trip, I had never been away from Central New York for more than two weeks at a time. Being away makes home much more special and comforting. I learned that I can manage my budget and negotiate a rent. I learned that I’m not a horrendous cook, but that I do have a horrible sense of direction.

I learned of all these things while making London my own. To me, London is my city, although I’m sure all of my peers feel the same way. It was my route that I took to school each day, where the store fronts became landmarks and countless tourists asked me for directions as if I was a local. It was my grocery store where I went to the same cashier each week because she was the fastest. London is my city, just as it has been the city of millions before me and will be the city of millions to come.

This weekend I relished in everything I had missed – seeing my family and friends, playing with my dogs, watching the Buffalo Bills and Syracuse basketball, driving my car. Although I could not have imagined a better first weekend home, I have to admit I was a bit torn. Part of me still longed for London, for the hustle and bustle of the big city where there was always something to do, for my own flat.

I suppose that’s the mark of a good trip; I wanted to stay and to come home simultaneously. I hope to go back someday and re-visit all of my favorite haunts. London was the best experience of my life, and I have hundreds of pictures and memories to prove it. Please forgive me if it’s all I talk about for the next, oh, five years or so.