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.

Catching Up

Apologies upon apologies to my devoted followers (if you exist...) -- it has been a crazy few weeks since my return to US soil. Although I can't say I brought back any souvenirs from my trip, I can say that I seem to have brought back some sort of virus that has rendered me almost completely useless up until a few days ago. Blame it on late-nights of London escapades or long days of sight-seeing in Rome, but whatever took down my immune system is still trying to keep me confined to the couch, cuddled under a blanket and armed with a bottle of ibuprofen. It seems as though I've almost shaken this pesky cold, however, which means that my brain can focus less on willing my body to rest and more on sharing my wit and wisdom to the blogging world.

More importantly, though, I, like the rest of the Boston community, have been dealing with far more difficult things. Thankfully, my family and friends are all safe, but not everyone was so fortunate. Please consider donating to The One Fund, which was established to raise money for the victims and others affected by the Boston bombings that occurred last week at the Boston Marathon. As Mayor Menino said during the memorial service for the victims, "We are one Boston. Nothing can tear down the resilience of this city." I know that I and many other people from the Boston area are forever grateful to law enforcement officials, first-responders, and other selfless people who offered their help throughout this past week. Please keep the victims, and their families and friends in your thoughts.

The One Fund Boston

Ciao for Now...

My ex- boyfriend, Big Ben.
We couldn't survive the distance

I know there have been times when I go M.I.A. from posting, but this time, it's for a reason! If you've read two of my most recent posts, you'll know that I will be travelling to London and then to Rome over the next two weeks. Try not to miss me too much -- I will share tales of my adventures and, most likely, misadventures upon my return! Cheers!

 

Returning to Rome... three years later...

TMI: How Much is Too Much?

Thanks for letting me know.
http://tbonecafe.files.wordpress.com/2012/01/social-media-explained.jpg

When I first started my blog, it was meant to document my seemingly hopeless pursuit in job hunting as a post-grad and the subsequent transition from college life to, sigh, real life. While unemployed, my most controversial posts consisted of what type of cookies I baked that day and my success at avoiding kitchen fires. However, with each post, I often faced the question of deciding what to share from my life. What would prove most post-worthy or relatable? What did the readers want? After all, I only had so much from my personal life that was even anecdotal enough to warrant publishing on my blog.

Once caught in the middle of my job search, though, and then later, when finding an actual job, I realized that I couldn't impetuously or haphazardly post to my blog like I did before. There were certain details now that I was working (and continue to work) that just weren't suitable for posting online -- not because they were inappropriate, but because they compromised professionalism. Despite wanting to give you, my readers, an authentic view into my life with all of its details (for better or worse), disclosing certain aspects about what was currently going on in my life (i.e. how things were going with my employer or even potential future plans with a different employer) could put me in a risky position.

All of this led me to thinking about sharing information in an era where over-sharing (much like a certain degree of narcissism) seems to be the norm. Certainly, giving readers access to every minutiae of your life establishes authenticity, insight and a connection -- yet, there needs to be a line drawn somewhere, right? How can you maintain some semblance of privacy in 2013, when all you need is a little strategic sleuthing to pull up pages and pages of information on a particular person?

Obviously by writing a blog I am opening up parts of my life for public consumption. At the same time, though, I can't open up every single part of my life for the taking. If I were to post about resuming my job search while currently at my job, well, that is just a bad idea. Certain things need to be kept under wraps for the simple reason that sharing these things could risk not only current opportunities, but future opportunities. I constantly read tweets, status updates and view Instagrams that sometimes border on too much. Yeah, there are the annoying posts that reveal intimate family moments, egregious and unfounded personal opinions and overall, questionable taste in judgement. I've seen tweets from funerals, Instagrams of half-naked bodies, and Facebook status updates letting me know of people's every single action from sunrise to sundown. For the most part, these things are harmless, albeit sorta tacky. However, these sorts of posts are not the ones that concern me the most . What about the posts where you rant about your boss? Or the millions of tweets you post while you're in the middle of an important meeting? Or an Instagram of you celebrating getting that new job -- when you already have a job?

Just because we can post with the click of the button doesn't mean we always should. Your Twitter/Facebook/Instagram needs to reflect some process of thoughtful curating. Yes, I understand this suggests a bit of manipulation: only showing things that we are permitting the public to see. But what exactly is wrong with that? Aren't we all entitled to a bit of privacy? And even more so, aren't we all entitled to you keeping things private from us? (There are certain things I don't need to know, folks.) I think we could all benefit from exercising a bit more discretion.

Again, this is not to say that we need to lose that element of authenticity from our lives and from our social media platforms, but I think that there is a reason "TMI" has become so integrated into our everyday vernacular. With crotch-shots being a regular facet in tabloids these days, it's clear that our society has blurred the line between what should be considered private and public. Social media platforms have only confounded this issue even more, as each facet encourages constant use and egotism. Maybe people do want to know more rather than less, but I think that ultimately, they want authenticity. They want to know that the person behind the posts is real and they're being thoughtful -- that what we choose to share with each other is a result of wanting to make genuine connections. The moments/opinions we choose to share online are a reflection of ourselves online, so I guess my last question is, what do we want our online-selves to say about our offline-selves?

As an avid-Tweeter (perhaps, even over-Tweeter), I know that a little self-reflection on the matter will probably benefit myself, future opportunities and most definitely, the people who are reading my tweets. Sorry guys!

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...