Lost in London

So I'm a bit lost here in England, but in a completely good way. Everything is foreign, new and exciting... more so than I expected! I step outside and initially feel as if I could be home. Then I enter a crosswalk (or zebra crossing as Brits call it) and realize that everyone is driving on the left side of the street and they talk differently. Then I am pulled back into this reality that seems like a dream. A pretty amazing dream.

 

After spending a couple days on Newcastle's campus for international orientation, our Loyola program took a weekend trip to London. I have wanted to travel to London since I was young, and heard so much about it through others' experiences there. It was interesting to see how the trip would compare to what I always imagined it would be like. Once again reality exceeded expectations. I really hope this trend continues!

On the first day after everyone dropped their belongings in the hostel, we took the Tube for a night tour of the city. I wasn't exactly sure which sights were included on the tour. So when we walked up the stairs from the tube, my breath was taken away when I looked right up at Big Ben. I have seen pictures of the famous landmark, and all of a sudden it was right in front of me. As corny as it sounds, it took my breath away. It was one of those nights when I felt so happy that I felt a little sad too.  It's a strange paradox to say the least. I think it was the notion that I could never experience London like this for the first time again with such wonder. I reminded myself to take in every moment, and enjoy it all as it comes.

The tour was so beautiful at night, but I wanted to see the city during the day again. So we went back to see all the touristy attractions which included Buckingham Palace, the Tower of London, the British Museum, Westminster Abbey and Camden which were all equally amazing.

 

 

 

 

I have to say the best experience of all that weekend was going on the London Eye with two of my friends. The wait was long, but the view was completely worth it. Once again, I felt like I was in a dream. Seeing the cityscape from such a tall height reminded me of my view while skydiving. Everything looks so small, and not as intimidating anymore. Simultaneously, it was beautiful and breathtaking. Words can't really describe it even though I could go on forever about how great it was.

 

Although I absolutely loved London, I was happy to get back to Newcastle. London can be a little overwhelming, and I love the community atmosphere that Newcastle gives off, if that makes sense. Although it is a city, it feels more personal and close-knit than London.

So after a week or two of vacationing, orientation and Fresher's week, I finally am starting classes after five months off. I hope my brain still works. Even though I will have work now, I'm pretty sure I will continue to love it here. Wish me luck!

 

           

I'm Loving Geordieland!

First of all, may I say that Newcastle is absolutely amazing. I couldn't imagine it to be this beautiful in my wildest dreams. No exaggeration. Secondly, I had no idea that I would come across such a language barrier! Although the majority of students studying at Newcastle are from different cities in England, the locals (Geordies) can be quite difficult to understand for out-of-towners! During international orientation, we were handed a translation sheet to help us better understand the people we would be spending a good deal of time with for the next few months. A personal favorite of my friend's and mine is "Shy bairns get nowt", which literally translates to shy children don't get anything. Naturally, it became our little motto for our study abroad experience. I listed a few more terms below that I found interesting and amusing. I'm trying to become fluent in Geordie, but I'm not sure it's going too well. But I have to at least try! Remember, shy bairns get nowt!

Aa divvent knaa: I don't know

 

Aalreet?: How are things

 

Bairn: Child

 

Caad: Cold

 

Canny: Nice, pleasant, good or quite

 

Doon the Toon: In town

 

Geet: Great, large

 

Hadaway: Go away/I don't believe you

 

Shy bairns get nowt!: Shy children don't get anything; be assertive

 

Tra: Goodbye

Ten. More. Days.

Not that anyone is counting. Actually, I am counting. I have been counting this entire summer. I remember saying to myself way back when, only 80 more days... and now we're entering single digit territory! I don't even feel nervous. Is that normal? Who knows... I am just so excited and eager to get to Newcastle for the semester and settle in. The anticipation is really the worst!
 
So what am I doing during my last days in the states? Packing, packing and more packing.

 Maybe I'm trying to avoid being nervous about leaving the country for three months by only worrying about the clothes that I'm going to bring. But seriously how do I fit three months into one suitcase?! My biggest issue right now is trying to figure out which coats and shoes to bring. I don't want to leave any of them behind because I know I will have separation anxiety! Then I remember to tell myself, they're just clothes and they won't be upset if I leave them behind. They don't have feelings....or do they? Nah, just kidding. If my biggest worry right now is packing coats and shoes, then I am a pretty lucky person.

 When I look at the pile of sweaters, shirts, and jeans sprawled overwhelmingly across half of my bedroom floor, I think of the memories that will be made in them, and the potential that these next few months hold. The future is a completely blank canvas and I can't wait to splash it with vibrant colors (extremely corny, but I had to). 

 So I could be worried about my classes, finding my way around the university and town, and making new friends, but I'm not. I'm just throwing clothes around my room because that seems much more productive to me. Everything will work out! And I'll be in England so it will be awesome no matter what. Oh they don't use the word awesome do they? Okay, it will be BRILLIANT.

The Closest I'll Ever be to Flying (A Pre-Abroad Adventure)

Let's do something crazy. Like something that will make people question your sanity. What's the craziest thing you can think of? Jumping out of a plane at 13,000 feet? Okay, let's do it.

  No, I don't think I've always been this "crazy". If anyone told sixteen-year-old me that I would skydive three years from now I would probably laugh in their face and then maybe cry and hide in a corner somewhere. Seriously. I'll admit to having a serious case of FOMO (the fear of missing out for anyone blessed enough to be unfamiliar with this term). I also thought that if I went skydiving, I could prove to myself that I don't need to be afraid of anything else. If I took a huge leap of faith (literally), then I could be fearless right?

Well, when I stepped into that shockingly tiny plane, I wasn't afraid. I was in denial. This isn't happening. Nope, definitely not happening. If I were sane, I would never be doing this. Am I being Punk'd? Ashton, are you there? But Ashton was nowhere in sight. As that tiny plane took off, we crossed the threshold into reality. There was no turning back.

 Surprisingly, I felt calm and at peace as I peered out the window. While we were far from the safety of the ground, the view was spectacular enough to take anyone's breath away. Before I knew it, we reached 13,00 feet and it was go time. My instructor carefully attached his harness to mine. As the door of the plane opened, a rush of cool air flooded in. I inched closer to that side, and as I learned earlier from our training, I slowly shifted my feet out onto the ledge of the plane. Then I held onto my shoulder straps for dear life. "1... 2... 3... GO!" My instructor swiftly launched us from the ledge of the plane and we were off... falling at 120 miles per hour!

  That one minute of free-fall was the most exhilarating moment of my life. It was incomparable to any other experience. It didn't really feel like falling; it felt more like floating or flying through the sky, with an unbelievable burst of adrenaline and endorphins. Before I knew it, the parachute opened, which proceeded with me screaming, "HALLELUJAH THE PARACHUTE OPENED I'M ALIVE!" My instructor just laughed, because he had jumped about 1,000 times before me.

The next few minutes were completely surreal. I could see horizon as far as Massachusetts and Rhode Island. As we slowly declined in altitude, I observed neighborhoods with houses and cars that appeared doll-size. It wasn't so intimidating anymore. When my feet finally touched the ground and I unstrapped my harness, I felt that I never made a better decision in my life. In fact, I wanted to jump again. The adrenaline and views are enough to get anyone hooked.

It all got me thinking... maybe it's okay if I'm not fearless. It was fear that drove me to jump out of a plane anyways! I was afraid of falling, missing out, uncertainty and afraid of being afraid. But fear makes things interesting. For me, the experience of skydiving was even more rewarding because I thought my fear would hold me back. But I jumped anyway!

So I'm not trying to turn this into a cheesy metaphor, but I guess it's hard not to. All I'm trying to say is be brave and bold even if you don't think you can... because you can! I promise. And embrace the craziness, even if people tell you otherwise. You won't regret it!