Reuniting with My Former Flame: London

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It's been just over a month since I returned from my tryst across the pond in good ol' London town. A little under two years since my summer there, I arrived at Heathrow airport sans companions, alone with my luggage, an old Oyster card and a wave of jetlag on the brink of rendering me incapable of functioning. I remember when I had arrived there in June 2011, fueled by nervous adrenaline and a pit in my stomach that can only be described as the harsh realization that I was thousands of miles away from every single person I knew. This time, both the pit and adrenaline were gone. I focused on getting a cab -- I knew exactly where to go, what to do and what to expect. The fear that my overseas excursion would swallow me whole and leaving me cowering in the large belly of a foreign city was a distant memory. Instead, I sleepily made my way to my friend's apartment, encouraged by familiar sights and early morning London traffic.

Despite all of this, hopping right back into things, it didn't actually hit me that I had finally returned to the place where I had so many fond memories. In fact, it wasn't until the next day (Saturday) that I was faced with the reality: I was back in London. It hit me when I was riding the London Underground -- the tube. After a bit of assistance, my Oyster card was not only re-activated, but even had some money on it. I headed to one of my favorite spots/events: Borough Market.

My friend was sleeping in, so I set forth alone, safely hiding my A to Z map in my bag, lest anyone mistake me for an annoying American tourist. I could hardly be called that -- I had a UK phone number! A working Oyster card! A decrepit tube map! As I headed towards the appropriate platform to board the tube, I was shocked at how effortless it all seemed. It had been two years, but all of the city's familiarity embraced me. Steadying myself for my ride towards the London Bridge stop, I felt like an old friend was hugging me -- granted, that may have just been the fact that I was packed like a sardine into the subway car, but I felt an amazing sense of contentedness. I was back. Had I even left? There may be a famous song about leaving one's heart in San Francisco, but in that moment, I was sure my heart had been left in London.

The rest of the week was a happy medium of sightseeing, relaxing and partying. There was no pressure to fit in tourist attractions/major sights nor was there an urgency to plan my schedule down to the very last minute. I had a few goals -- visit an old friend, see the British museum, have a Kinder egg -- that were easily attainable and would insure a successful trip.

I remember talking about my trip prior to leaving with a friend I met that 2011 summer in London. We were trying to figure out whether or not our love for London was something that would pass with time or with another visit. I wondered that too while en route to the city. However, once roaming those all-too-familiar streets, emerging myself in the London's busy activity and foot traffic, I realized that my love affair with London was far from over. If anything, it only reaffirmed my fondness for the city and its people. Certainly, I could list some of the things I love about London: the almost seamless way it blends modernity with its rich history, the wit and dry humor shared by its friendly inhabitants, the way it welcomes a diverse international population and yet still is very distinctly "British..." And yet, still, I know that other cities exhibit qualities similar to these (in their own way). I'm not sure what it is, exactly, but I believe Samuel Johnson says it best: "when a man is tired of London, he is tired of life." Suffice to say, I am anything but exhausted.

Why Hello, Old Friend: Thoughts on Returning Abroad

Oh, hey girl.
(http://images.fineartamerica.com/images-medium-large/queen-e-pop-art-terry-collett.jpg)

I've had a case of the Fridays all day (is that a thing?) and all I've been able to do is look wistfully towards the weekend and my upcoming vacation in order to get me through the final afternoon slump. Freedom is on the horizon -- in the form of Saturday, Sunday and a ten-day getaway across the pond.

As I lose myself in daydreams, I realize that in returning to London and Rome (but especially, London) I will be reuniting with old stomping grounds. I visited Rome briefly for a few days during a college trip to Italy, but I spent an entire summer in London. How strange that a foreign city could seem so familiar, while remaining so geographically distant from my everyday life. I'm not sure how I'll react to landing back in Heathrow, riding the Tube and meandering through the same streets I explored just under two years ago. Will the city welcome me back or dismiss me as a once-tourist and now-stranger?

It's different from other vacations I've had where I've returned to the same place. Every year, my family skips out of suburbia and plops next to the beach in Cape Cod -- but that is a two-hour drive from home, littered with Boston-pride and New England's creature comforts. I have friends who live on Cape Cod and I'm not relegated to a once-a-year visit to Massachusetts' hook, or even once-every-so-many-years visit. London, on the other-hand, is obviously not so easily accessible from this side of the Atlantic. With a six to seven hour flight separating me from the the US's former frenemy (circa 1776), I wonder if I will seamlessly re-acquaint to the city or be overwhelmed by a surprising exoticism of it all. Is it just like riding a bike? Will I hop back on that metaphorical Schwinn only to find that I need training wheels? Or will I be able to pedal around the city, finely attuned to my place on the left side of the road?

My summer in London left me with an indelible affection and attachment to the city. Whenever I click through Facebook photos or peruse my old travel blog, the nostalgia inevitably resurfaces and I think back to everything I did there -- both the trivial and the anecdote-worthy. I'm obviously curious to be back there and perhaps even re-trace some of my old steps, to see if this nostalgia returns full-force and if I remember the same sights and smells. Some of my favorite memories are the least ostentatious or illustrious. I remember walking to Kings Cross in the morning to take the tube to work and just feeling like I was a part of it -- as though, I was one sort of minute piece of energy contributing to the overall life of the city. The air was fresh and crisp, the streets still wet from the morning rain, and yet, amid the serenity of climate, the people's vibrancy propelled me forward, invigorating me. I always felt a rush whenever I was diving into a different part of the city -- whether it was getting lost and then surprisingly stumbling upon my desired location or when I simply took the time to take in the people as I walked through the streets. I suppose this sort of sensation is not purely indicative of my experience of London, but of travel, in general, but because I had these inaugural feelings of developing familiarity with London, I now think of it as an old friend associated with a summer filled with memories.

I'm not quite sure what to expect, really. I'm hoping to fit in time to see some familiar faces, but also to  venture to corners of the city that were left unexplored while I was there.I'm sure this trip will not signify any sort of end to my love affair with the city. Instead, I'm almost certain it will rekindle it, as I feel as though once I am, again, caught up in London's energy, I will feel the overwhelming urge to ditch my flight, stay put, and peddle my way into some sort of Notting Hill apartment. 

If you don't hear from me in April, it's probably because I'm still there...