The day of departure has arrived. I can't think of anything else to cram into the bags sitting ready in my bedroom, and aside from one more hostel reservation I think I've made all the arrangements I could possibly make. The trepidation of the past few days has settled down into a flutter in my chest, and every glance at the clock emphasizes just how close I am to stepping off the plane in the London airport.
That is, if I can survive the layover in France first.
If you're reading this blog, then you probably know enough about me to know that this is not my first time abroad. Specifically, it's my tenth. What you might not know is that the last night before departure still strikes me with a sort of gravity. Last night I curled up with my Bible and my journal to write and think for about an hour before I went to sleep in my own bed for the last time prior to departure.
The journals I've kept over the past few years are littered with "last nights" and the thoughts that come with them. Typically, a "last night" is a good time to let the reality of the trip sink in (as much as it can before you actually get over there) and to let the bigness and excitement of a journey commenced engulf you for a moment. But it's also a good time to look back at what you're leaving behind. My journal for this past year has helped my capture one of the best, strangest years of my life in quite a while. I've been able to make fantastic new friends, grow closer to the friends I already had, reunite with old friends and watch all of those relationships change in wonderful, surprising ways. It's been an incredible adventure, and as I thought about it last night I realized how grateful I am to belong to the community I'm about to leave, and how glad I am that I will get to rejoin it.
During the past week or two many of my friends here have returned to school, and the constant influx of "I'm so glad to be back at college!" Facebook statuses have made me feel a little bit like the Hogwarts Express left without me. I'm going to miss being part of their adventures, being in the midst of their company, being present to listen to their problems and to seek solace in them for mine. While I'm gone, my brothers are going to get taller, my dogs older--in short, everything is going to be different when I return. But that's part of the adventure too. And in the meantime, I'm actually going to Hogwarts (okay, not Hogwarts, but you get the idea).
On "last nights," I always take a moment to think about what I want from the journey I'm about to take. Last night I thought about it and prayed over it, and this is what I came up with:
1. I want this to go slowly. The other day I read Robert Frost's poem "October", which perfectly captured the way I feel about this coming semester. The last few days have been a whirlwind, but I don't want the trip to be like that: I want time to sit by a river and just think, and read, and absorb, and be. I want every moment to count, and I don't want a single one to slip by.
2. I want to grow. I want to grow as a friend to the people going with me, and I want to grow as a friend to the people I haven't met yet. And I also want to grow by myself--just me, figuring myself out.
3. I want to learn. Everything. Anything I can get my hands on, about England, Oxford, literature, life, and, specifically, God. I've heard good things about Oxford offering a good theological community of enlightened discussion, and I'm excited to tap into that. There's a reason I've chosen C.S. Lewis as my major, and it isn't just because I'm still convinced I can find Narnia if I open the right closet.
Ten hours until liftoff. I think I'm going to go play with my dogs for a little while. The next time I write to you, fellow travelers, I'll be on the other side of the Pond!
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Monday, August 29, 2011
Sinking the Island (but not really)
This story actually started a few months ago. My friend and I were sitting in my room, pretending to do our homework but actually talking about our pending acceptance into our school's study abroad program to Oxford University in England. A number of people had applied, including two other close friends of ours, and I asked with a thrill of anticipation, "Can you imagine what would happen if you, me, Kalie, and Aidan were all set loose on England at the same time?" Sean looked up from his Great Books text and said, quite seriously, "We are going to sink the island."
Nine months later, I am preparing to leave for merry old England in just three short days. In the time since I found out I was going, my excitement has swung from long periods of dreamy happiness at the thought of the future, to outright ebullience, to (most recently) oh-my-gosh-what-was-I-thinking-trying-to-plan-international-travel-in-the-last-month-before-departure anxiety. I've spent the last two weeks spending as much time as possible with the friends and family I'm going to miss over there, drinking in their presence before I have to leave them for four months. After I wrap up my last visit to my college friends, I'll hop home to pack the last few things and, on a red-eye flight leaving Wednesday, I'll be on my way with a friend to explore Ireland for two weeks before the Oxford term starts.
A lot of people have asked me if I will be keeping a blog while I'm abroad. This is it. I've had the domain for a month and haven't done a thing with it because I've never had a blog before. (This entry was actually my third attempt at writing a "first entry," and I'm much happier with it than the other two.) But I'm going to do my best to update regularly and to tell the stories that I think are going to make anyone who reads feel like they're over there with us.
I feel like, before this adventure begins, I ought to explain the title of my blog, because titles are important and I spent a long time trying to come up with mine. "We" is the first important word in the title, because I don't see this as just my adventure. My favorite stories involve many people coming together, and I'm lucky enough to be traveling with four of my dearest friends--the three I mentioned earlier and one more from another school. The fact that I'm going to get to share these experiences with them makes me so eager to get started. They are the "we" I was thinking of when I formed the title, but the pronoun encompasses more than just the American friends I'm getting to take with me. "We" will include all the English friends we make along the way--and, if you want, it will also include you as you read our stories.
"Wander" is the second really important word in the title. I paradoxically love and hate planning. (Remember that really long, overly hyphenated phrase I used a few paragraphs ago? That culminated at about one o'clock yesterday afternoon, and it wasn't pretty.) If I have the choice, I prefer to fly by the seat of my pants with only a rough outline of what I'm doing, trusting that everything will work out in the end. Fellow travelers, this is sometimes a very stupid thing to do, particularly when logistics of survival are involved (like when you're arriving two weeks before term and, four days before you get on a plane, you realize you don't know where you're going when you land). Other times, though, it is the very best part of traveling.
Wandering--with no agenda, armed with only a sense of direction and curiosity--is one of the very best ways to get to know the place you're visiting. My friend Aidan, whom I mentioned earlier, once told me that his favorite approach to exploring a city was to get as lost as possible and then to wander until he found his way back. You become so attentive to your surroundings when you go into them without knowing what to expect. Mental wandering is good, too: when you leave behind your expectations of what you thought this experience was going to be, in favor of discovering what it really is. I've found that on any journey, the parts that you didn't plan--good or bad, external or internal, mental, emotional, or physical--sometimes end up being your favorite parts of the trip. The best things sneak up on you when you aren't looking for them--when you are, instead, just wandering.
I intend to wander everywhere. All over London, all over Oxford, all over England and Ireland and wherever else my feet and a rail pass will take me. With friends or on my own (safely, though; don't worry, Mom). I intend to explore every alley and curve in the road, and to seize every opportunity I never expected to appear. I anticipate being surprised and confused and sometimes frustrated, but I expect to learn a lot that way.
Eventually I'll wander home. But that's four months from now, and though I'll miss it here I don't want to hurry my adventures there. I can't wait to get started.
Nine months later, I am preparing to leave for merry old England in just three short days. In the time since I found out I was going, my excitement has swung from long periods of dreamy happiness at the thought of the future, to outright ebullience, to (most recently) oh-my-gosh-what-was-I-thinking-trying-to-plan-international-travel-in-the-last-month-before-departure anxiety. I've spent the last two weeks spending as much time as possible with the friends and family I'm going to miss over there, drinking in their presence before I have to leave them for four months. After I wrap up my last visit to my college friends, I'll hop home to pack the last few things and, on a red-eye flight leaving Wednesday, I'll be on my way with a friend to explore Ireland for two weeks before the Oxford term starts.
A lot of people have asked me if I will be keeping a blog while I'm abroad. This is it. I've had the domain for a month and haven't done a thing with it because I've never had a blog before. (This entry was actually my third attempt at writing a "first entry," and I'm much happier with it than the other two.) But I'm going to do my best to update regularly and to tell the stories that I think are going to make anyone who reads feel like they're over there with us.
I feel like, before this adventure begins, I ought to explain the title of my blog, because titles are important and I spent a long time trying to come up with mine. "We" is the first important word in the title, because I don't see this as just my adventure. My favorite stories involve many people coming together, and I'm lucky enough to be traveling with four of my dearest friends--the three I mentioned earlier and one more from another school. The fact that I'm going to get to share these experiences with them makes me so eager to get started. They are the "we" I was thinking of when I formed the title, but the pronoun encompasses more than just the American friends I'm getting to take with me. "We" will include all the English friends we make along the way--and, if you want, it will also include you as you read our stories.
"Wander" is the second really important word in the title. I paradoxically love and hate planning. (Remember that really long, overly hyphenated phrase I used a few paragraphs ago? That culminated at about one o'clock yesterday afternoon, and it wasn't pretty.) If I have the choice, I prefer to fly by the seat of my pants with only a rough outline of what I'm doing, trusting that everything will work out in the end. Fellow travelers, this is sometimes a very stupid thing to do, particularly when logistics of survival are involved (like when you're arriving two weeks before term and, four days before you get on a plane, you realize you don't know where you're going when you land). Other times, though, it is the very best part of traveling.
Wandering--with no agenda, armed with only a sense of direction and curiosity--is one of the very best ways to get to know the place you're visiting. My friend Aidan, whom I mentioned earlier, once told me that his favorite approach to exploring a city was to get as lost as possible and then to wander until he found his way back. You become so attentive to your surroundings when you go into them without knowing what to expect. Mental wandering is good, too: when you leave behind your expectations of what you thought this experience was going to be, in favor of discovering what it really is. I've found that on any journey, the parts that you didn't plan--good or bad, external or internal, mental, emotional, or physical--sometimes end up being your favorite parts of the trip. The best things sneak up on you when you aren't looking for them--when you are, instead, just wandering.
I intend to wander everywhere. All over London, all over Oxford, all over England and Ireland and wherever else my feet and a rail pass will take me. With friends or on my own (safely, though; don't worry, Mom). I intend to explore every alley and curve in the road, and to seize every opportunity I never expected to appear. I anticipate being surprised and confused and sometimes frustrated, but I expect to learn a lot that way.
Eventually I'll wander home. But that's four months from now, and though I'll miss it here I don't want to hurry my adventures there. I can't wait to get started.
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