Day One: The One

Although my hair was slightly damp, beginning to curl naturally – uncontrollably. I pulled, trying to loosen the tight sheets while surfing the channels trying to find BBC news, but I didn’t really care. My eyes drifted in and out as I laid there, my pillow becoming cool from my hair. All of the tension easing from me.

Our flat mates, minus one, walked through the neighborhood. Homes all white or brick, making me feel as though I was near brownstones in Brooklyn except fancier. Learning to look down at the signs on the ground, directing unknowing travelers of which direction to actually look to see the small speedy European cars.

We made it. We were early for our appointment, but we crept up the tight stairs and entered into a small office with a man, Alan, and his wife. Both of whom were the nicest Londoners I’ve met outside of ICLC.

His office had plaques with sand-script, pictures of loved ones, and a small espresso maker. It was tight, the size of a walk in closet. 

“First, before we get started," he said, "Would you like candy?” He handed me a box of chocolates, we each took one. Very old school, I thought.

He's worked with ICLC before. He knew the deal, we were cheap and needed everything fully furnished. Silver ware, everything. We wouldn't break anything. We wanted to be in a safe neighborhood, near the school. 

“I will show you one flat for now. If you love it, you will get it. If you like it, we can lower price. For now, we will look at just this one.”

It was just down the road, less than a five minute walk away. It was the only building with scaffolding, the outside was just being repainted, but it would soon look like the other homes along the small street that I envied earlier.

We decided this was the one. Four girls to one room, two guys to the other. Large living room, an eat-in kitchen. Wifi and washer/dryer. Balcony (after the scaffolding is taken down). What more could we ask for? After negotiations, we were set to pay the deposit later that week. 

My eyes drifted. I had been awake for longer than I expected. I peered over at the clock. It was in military time. At that point, it wasn’t worth doing the math. It was clearly time to finally rest. The worst part was over and the fun was just about to begin.

This was the fourth piece in a four part series. For the beginning of the story, click here. 

Day One: Customs

This day could have been much worse, I thought while fighting the urge to pop the Mount Vesuvius sized blister on my heel. Who thought it was a good idea to buy the shoes that were slightly tighter than the ones that were blatantly too big? Oh yeah. Me.

The line for customs seemed endless. I stood with half a trees’ worth of paper, praying that the customs agent wouldn’t give me a hard time. Facebook had been blowing up all week with questions from other students about Visa papers.

Sweating, I went up to desk 18. A gentleman with gray hair stood there, smiling. How can you smile when you’re supposed to interrogate me about my “work placement,” not my internship because that would be a paid job, or why I am staying here for four months?

“Hello, how long will you be in England?” He said smiling. Why are you smiling?

“I’ll be here for four months, I will be studying at the Ithaca College London Center and I have a work placement with the charity Attend.” Did I really say that all confidently? Do you need any papers? Please, trust me.

“Where will you be staying?” Oh goodness.

“I don’t have a flat, yet, but the address I have for you if for the London Center. It is in Kensington. I hear it’s a very poshy neighborhood.”

“You’re very right, it is very nice there. What are you studying?”

He could tell I was nervous.

“Well, my degree is in journalism in politics so I am taking a few classes in that but I am also taking Shakespeare.”

He chuckled. Stamp. Stamp.

“Alright, you have a wonderful time. You’re all set.” 

“Thank you, sir.”

I found my bag and met my driver, Simon. He is a friend of my stepmom’s. Whenever she comes to London he drives her. Simon handed me his card before we even reached the car.

“I told Michelle I would do this, but if you ever need anything or find yourself in an area you do not know, please call me.”

He gleefully told me everything about London that he knew, from why the English drive on the correct side of the road (knights on horses drew their swords from the left side, so they could fight on the right when another horseman came. Also it was a Papal decision as well; the U.S. and France rebelled after the Revolution), England’s “most undemocratic democracy” as Simon put it (their politicians are actually real people, and are put in their place constantly. They’re also not technically “elected” – the party is elected at the leader of the party becomes Prime Minister.), and how the unexplainable loyalty to the Queen during times of trouble.

It was absolutely breathtaking to see his love for his country. Simon dropped me off at the hotel earlier than the other students were transported from Heathrow. I curled up in a hotel lobby chair, my feet just beginning to burn.

I expected traveling to be the must difficult part of my day. At least, that was what I thought before I had to find a place to live.

For the third piece on this four part series, click here for "Day One: Finding Flat Mates." 

Day One: In the Air

The boiling water seeped into the opening blisters on my swollen feet as I laid there, in the tub of my hotel room, alone my first night in London. Jet lag was hitting me, but all of the stress and anxiety of the day eased out of my tense body as the water cooled.

There has been no previous time that I could remember, during the short two decades of my life, were I had accomplished so much in 24 hours. Well, I cannot really remember if it was 24 hours. You see, I kind of time traveled when flying to London, cutting out a few unimportant hours in the States for a jam packed day; finding people to live with, finding Jamie, a flat, discussing a lease, getting a phone, did I mention jet lag? But, it all started in the air.

“I am so sorry to bother you, ma’m, but is it alright if I peer over your shoulder as we land? I’ve just never seen London before.”

“Is this the first time to the U.K.?” she said cheerfully. “You’re just going to love it.”

The woman told me she’s lived in England her whole life, except for eight years she spent in Manhattan. She grabbed her heart, remembering New York and telling me you’re just going to love it here. There is so much to do.

We both peaked at the countryside. Fog was lifting in the crevasses of small hills between the checkered plots of farmland.

“You can tell we are getting close to the city because of the motorway (highway). There is a large circle all around London. You never know how we are going to land in Heathrow, like JFK. We may come in around the city, or go straight threw it.”

Our plane paralleled the Thames. We were going straight threw the city.

She pointed first to the Olympic stadiums, then Buckingham Place and the gardens, the London Eye which is near Big Ben and Parliament. Then we flew over rows upon rows of identical houses, all like the ones from Harry Potter.

I couldn’t have asked for a better tour.

“Thank you, so much. You have no idea how excited I am.”

But she knew. It was like being in NYC for the first time. A city with endless history and possibilities.


For the second piece of this four part series, click here for "Day One: Customs."