And That Was My First Day in London

Today, Sunday the 18^th of September, marks the 5^th day of my life in London. LONDON, baby!!!

They've kept us so busy I haven’t had time to do any necessary paperwork, let alone blog. But I’m happy for that. They, meaning the Roehampton Student Union people, have done and excellent job of preventing seclusion. Clearly they know students and their/our tendency to keep to ourselves unless forced to do otherwise. Especially now with the internet it's so easy to cling to friends from home instead of stepping out and making new friends. Luckily enough, one of the very first people I talked to after arrival onto campus turned out to be my closest friend (if you can call him a close friend after knowing each other for so short a time). But I'm getting far ahead of myself. Let me start from the beginning.

My prior post, though uploaded only moments before this, was written days ago while I was still on US soil. In New Jersey to be exact. I mentioned the number of young girls on the same flight as me and this point became of particular interest after landing. My plane arrived at Heathrow earlier than expected. Favorable conditions and all that. I'd spent that last 7-ish hours next to an elderly British couple, a pair who kept to themselves and spoke very little to me, quite unlike the women on the Cleveland-New Jersey flight. We disembarked at Terminal 4, I already sweating under the weight of my two carry-ons. I hadn't made it 20 feet before I wished, after a sleepless night, that i''d packed nothing at all. More than one I was tempted to abandon everything I had on me. The blessed arrival of a push cart made my life easier, particularly when I was hauling two additional duffle bags. Surprisingly, I had to take the tube between Terminals, from 4 to 3. 

The Tube

This required me to abandon my push cart and haul my luggage using sheer brute strength. What a joke. If it wasn't for a good Samaritan, an American man in a pink polo, who hoisted a single bag as if it weighed nothing, I never would have made it beyond the train platform. After that fiasco I arrived at terminal 3 only to discover our Roehampton meet-up group was nowhere to be found. Thankfully I'd experienced this same “abandonment”, if you will, when I arrived in London for Cambridge, and new just to wait and be patient. As it turns out, those same girls I'd seen waiting for the plane in NJ were waiting around the terminal now. Before long we'd all gathered together, realizing we were all headed toward Roehampton. I, being the only London-seasoned traveler in the group, was immediate labeled “leader and spokesperson”.

At long last, about an hour later, our Roehampton Uni (RU) coordinator met us and announced we'd remain in the terminal until more students arrived. After an hour or two 20 or so disheveled travelers, over encumbered by luggage, congregated in Terminal 3. Me, still “spokesman”, did my fair share of speaking about the nature of London, etc. It was then that I set eyes on my soon-to-be “best friend” at RU. He had also arrived at Terminal 3, the most obvious among us in bright red pants and perfectly ruffled blond hair. At a glance I assumed he must be french and freshly tanned from being near the Mediterranean. 

These Are Not HIS Pants. Just FYI. But They LOOKED Like This.

The bus took us to RU in about 30 minutes and I had my first views of Putney and the outskirts of central London. The traditional brick and stone homes all clustered together, with their tiny front yards, brought me straight back to my summer at Cambridge and I new then I wasn't going to experience a moment of homesickness because London is where I'm happiest and most at home.

At RU they split us up, the newly arriving International students, sending us away in groups to each of our respective campuses where we would spend the rest of the day unpacking and settling in. It was on this bus ride to Whitelands campus, the Postgraduate/Sciences/Psychology campus, that I had my first exchange with Red Pants boy. He sat next to me on the mini bus and spoke first. I couldn't catch his name but I was informed (stupid American that I am) that he is not, in fact, French but actually is Norwegian. Instead of my 7 hrs, he'd only spent 2 hrs on a plane to get here. And not only are flights between European nations cheaper than they are from the US, they're also cheapEST for Norwegians because their money is worth more than almost every other currency in the WORLD. Nice for them.

I was so jet lagged and physically exhausted that I barely had time to unpack anything before collapsing on my bed, sweaty from hauling luggage on an uncharacteristically warm British day.

And that was my first day in London.