Cambridge from Castle Hill

When I was little, I used to read a lot, like a lot, a lot. The majority was on my own, books I’d picked out from the small school library or books I convinced my parents to get me at the store. But what sticks with me most were the ones my mom and I read together every single night before bed. All the way through fifth grade I would curl up next to her in my parents’ big bed and she would read to me. I only read on my own because it was impossible for her to read to me as much as I wanted to hear, but if I could choose I always preferred her voice over that of the one in my own head.

My mother’s absolute favorite genre, so then of course mine as well, was historical fiction. We read about all sorts of people from princesses in Hawaii at the turn of the century to poor girls in England during the First World War. My favorite series were the American girl books and the Royal Diaries. The one book from the hundreds that I read that comes to mind during my travels thus far is the one about Queen Elizabeth I. Here I am, living in the country she ruled. I used to dream of being royalty, having no idea of the price that that would entail. Then, during the first week of my travels, I got the amazing opportunity to go to the Tower of London and walk around the streets that she lived in. All the names and the stories came rushing back to me, Queen Mary, King Henry the VII, Jane Grey, and there I was. I intensely studied the crowns they wore, the armor they fought in, and the stones upon which they died. It’s definitely hard to wrap your head around, but it is also one of the coolest things I’ve ever done in my entire life.

Tower of London

I’ve had a lot of those coolest-in-my-entire-life moments since I have been here. I landed six days ago. The first drop jaw moment I had was when I was waiting in the New York airport for my flight and realized that everyone around me had this lovely British accent and they were all so interesting. A man two rows behind me had broken out his guitar, yea, his guitar, in an airport, and was just rocking out. The lady who needed by me said “Cheers” instead of “Thank-you,” and I was just elated. Then I got on the plane and found my seat. I didn’t get a wink of sleep the entire flight, maybe I was too excited or maybe it was the awkward German man who kept falling asleep in my lap, or maybe it was a combination of the two. Either way, when we approached London and I saw the pretty lights in the shallow darkness of morning twinkling back at me, I couldn’t wipe the ridiculous smile off of my excited face. I watched the cars driving the opposite way on the roads and even from thousands of feet above them, I found it hard to comprehend all the differences that I was so excited to experience.

The ADORABLE British Taxis

St. Stephen's Tower (holds Big Ben)

The next couple days flew by in a blur of jet-lagged bouts of tiredness, squeals of “that _______ (insert anything here) is so adorable and British!!”, and long walks around Cambridge. Before I knew it, I was on my way with my thirteen other comrades into the big city of London! The arrival into King’s Cross Station was exciting, but nothing compared to the moment we came around the corner and spotted the tower housing the most famous bell in history (Big Ben is the name of the bell, not the tower!). At that very moment, the clouds that had been hovering over us all day separated into lovely bunches allowing the sunlight to stream down and send lens flares into all of my shots. The blue sky made its appearance and it was like London, with Big Ben and Parliament, were just begging to be photographed, and I happily obliged.

The next day we went to the London tower, the castle of England’s monarchs, and there I was, walking the streets remembering all those stories my mom read to me. I felt like I was cheating her, going there without her, she would love to see this so much. So I tried to take in as much as I could, for her sake. I have so many memories of her wandering around in museums reading every single sign, moving at snail’s pace trying to comprehend every little bit. I did my best to walk in her footsteps that day and I hope one day I can take her there, to the place of our fairytales. I am so blessed to have the chance to come to a place that can make history come alive for me. And I’ve been here less than a week, I cannot wait to see what else Europe has in store for me!

Feel free to take a look at all my pictures here and follow me day-to-day on Twitter!

It’s December 26^th and I still find myself saying “happy Christmas” here in Chicago. The cars are massive, people are less polite, and portions seem too much for any human. Being home for the holidays has been a mixed bag of nostalgic longing for the cobblestone culture of Cambridge, and the warm feeling of family and friends whom I’ve missed dearly.

I carried more than a few English phrases with me from Cambridge. It’s easy for travelers to develop a snobby Stockholm syndrome with their destinations; I cringe when I hear crass comparisons between stereotypes of cultures. “The way they it is so much better,” or “Wow, how American of you.”

Coming home, I’ve learned to define what it means to be culturally American. The idea of American culture as being vacuous and vapid is somewhat inaccurate. One professor of mine proclaimed the American four-way stop as a sign of the highly civilized nature of American driving (I laughed in his face).

The truth is, much of the pretentious attitude carried by study abroad students comes from a nasty case of “the grass is greener on the other side.” The great cities of the world – Paris, London, Rome – all have citizens who dream of visiting the great American cities – Chicago, New York, San Francisco.

I try not to be a travel snob, and occasionally it comes through. So forgive me, and forgive the rest of us.

Love, regardless of how one defines it, is not something that exists independently. It requires attention and devotion; that is to say, you have to work at it. Randy Pausch once said, “The brick walls are there to give us a chance to show how badly we want something.” Relationships function the same way.

My girlfriend and I have survived a semester apart, an ocean and seven time zones away. The task was daunting at first, but at the end of the endeavor, I find that it has been a fruitful experience. Here are some of the things I’ve learned.

It’s important to know how to say goodbye (or see you later).

Spending a semester apart requires that a relationship be in its best shape before the term starts. Like a marathon, your chances are best when you are prepared fit; a relationship is no different. It’s important that each person knows what to expect, and to expect those expectations to be challenged and maybe changed. Settle all fights and resolve all issues before the semester, else they’ll fester.

It’s all a lead up to knowing how to say goodbye properly.

Distance will make you talk more.

When all you have is talking and writing to each other, distance will exacerbate any problems and highlight any strong points. In my experience, my girlfriend and I managed to learn so much more about each other in the time we were away, primarily because all we had was the foundation of any relationship: communication. This is a prime opportunity to talk to each other at a depth that hasn’t been reached yet. As you learn more about yourself, share that.

It will be difficult, and it should be difficult.

Be honest about your relationship: Is it really strong enough to endure a semester apart? It’s a tough question to ask, but it’s a necessary one. My girlfriend and I go to different schools and have dated for nearly two years, so we had experience at distance before going into this past semester. However, if you relationship is celebrating its fourth week, and you’ve never spent more than 24 hours apart, it’s worth a critical self-evaluation.

Break conventions.

Few relationships are the same. A close friend of mine turned his relationship into an open one, in which both parties were allowed to see other people. That may not be a set up that fits everyone, certainly not me, but for the right couple it may work. There are all sorts of ways to keep a relationship going. Don’t be afraid to break convention to make it work.

It doesn’t feel like I’m leaving soon. I’ve been on so many trips and excursions this semester that some part of me feels like going home is just temporary—that I’ll be coming back to Cambridge soon. In this sense, Cambridge has really become my home. The streets, the pubs, and the people have all grown on me and I feel like I could stay here forever.

Going home will be nice, though. Seeing family and friends for the holidays will most likely revitalize some of my energy. Of course, I’ll most likely lose all that energy in the first week of classes at Valpo. I could make a list of all the things I will miss from Cambridge, but none of it will do justice. Each and every one of those things fit together like notes in a beautiful symphony. On their own, they’re just things; together they combine to make this brilliantly magical.

Here’s a playlist of songs I’ve come associate with Cambridge.

Sigh No More – Mumford and Sons

To the Beggin’ I will go – Old Blind Dogs

Little Lion Man – Mumford and Sons

God Save the Queen – Sex Pistols

Scotland Yet – Old Blind Dogs

We No Speak Americano – Yolanda Be Cool & Dcup

Dominos – The Big Pink

Fight – DJ Fresh

I’m a Lady (feat. Trouble Andrew) – Santigold

Click here to listen to them. Cheers!

In exactly one week from today, I will be on a plane bound for Chicago. As I type this, I’m really not sure how I’m supposed to feel at this moment. I guess you could classify the feeling as bittersweet. I am so excited and happy to see the family and friends that I have been missing over these past few months, but at the same time, am sad to leave this wonderful country and to no longer be living with the amazing people I’ve had the pleasure of sharing this experience.

C-86 at our first common meal!

Although it is hard for me to admit, I was absolutely terrified to leave  the U.S.A and come to England. As I visited my friends back at Valpo during my last few days in the states, I was having more doubts than ever. Everyone was starting to enjoy their life on campus and get back into the swing of things, while I was about to have to start over in a new country. Could I really do this? Was it the right decision?

Mid-Semester, Before One of Our Nights Out.. What a Fun Group 🙂

The answer to this is yes, absolutely. I had heard it time and time again from everyone else that I knew that had studied abroad: “This will be the time of your life”, “Make the most of it”, and “Do everything you can in the time that you’re given.” I can’t even begin to explain how right they all were. It’s nice to know that I now will be one of those students telling other students to have the same experience, which is what I hope I have done throughout this blog.

Paris.. Definitely my favorite weekend of the trip!

Through this experience I have learned to take advantage of every opportunity life throws at you, no matter how challenging or different it may seem. I have learned to appreciate everything that I have at home in a way that I never knew before. I have learned that no matter where I go or what I do, I can get anything done, as long as I set my mind to it. Everything I have learned while I’ve been here has been completely invaluable, and I could really go on for forever about what this experience has taught me.

The next time I will be writing to you will be from the other side of the Atlantic Ocean, in Valparaiso, Indiana. Just as in the first blog I wrote to you, my life will be completely different, but just as this experience has taught me, I will be able to graciously accept that change and readjust to my life at home.

From Strangers, to Friends, to Family.. I Love C-86!

Thank you to all of my readers this semester, it has been a pleasure sharing this wonderful experience with you!

Signing off from England,

Julie