A Thank You

Don't go where the path may lead, go instead where there is no path and leave a trail. 
                                           - Emerson
Well reader this completes 35 Days of London Adventures while Studying at the London School of Hygiene and Tropical Medicine. It has been an invaluable experience and one I have thoroughly enjoyed writing about every day. Thank you all for reading my words and serving as my travel companions, I never once felt alone.

Though, for all the words and tales and pictures I could have brought you, nothing could ever match the potency of living the experience for yourselves. So with that I wish you all the gift of great wide adventures to come and far travels to places you've only dreamed of.I wish you limitless landscapes, boundless vistas and views that take your breath away. I wish you poignant moments that change your mind and sacred spaces that teach you things you never knew about yourself. I wish you endless paths that lead to unexpected horizons and meandering roads that take you to places you never planned on going.

I wish you discovery. I wish you wonderment. I wish you wanderment and I wish you travel. See all the worlds you can for as long as you can. Keep your eyes peeled, your ears filled, your head up and your feet moving. Stay hungry. Stay foolish. Stay curious. And always, always, always stay with your heart wide open. 

I wish you all the best on your adventures to come and thank you all for taking this one with me.

Happy trails.

Day 35: But Never Forgotten

The taxi circled right by me the first time it came around the block despite my frenetic hand waving, but eventually found its way back. 
The sun was only just beginning to rise and the cold sting of the frigid morning wove its way in my damp hair. No one was awake yet in the house when I brought my bags down, but I didn’t have the heart to wake them, it was too early and too cold. As I placed my last bag in the black hackney cab, Mrs. Maby came running out of the house in her nightgown to wish me farewell. 

As I hugged her goodbye and quickly shoo’ed her back  inside for fear she’d freeze in place standing out in the cold, the sadness that had hitherto been just below the surface of my face in the last 24 hours, made its way behind my eyes and poured out as tears. I was officially sad to be leaving.  
I took a few final pictures of the street and the house with then sun rising behind it and then got into the cab and headed for Paddington Station. 
The Heathrow Express out of Paddington Station lived up to its name, I was at the airport in 15 minutes! I barely had time to settle in before they were announcing our arrival at Terminal 3. Grabbing my bags I headed toward the Virgin Atlantic ticket counter. As expected, I was over the weight limit from all the souvenirs I had brought back and had to pay the additional overage charge, but I didn’t mind. The weight of gifts being brought back was just one sign of this journey’s abundance. My cup, and my suitcases, had runneth over.
I had about two and a half hours to spare before boarding time. The central waiting area of Terminal 3 was packed. Travelers awaiting flights to Dubai, Scotland, Shanghai, Delhi and Canada, to name a few, huddled around internet docking stations and limited computer monitors, waiting their flights to be called. 
I strolled through the duty free aisles of perfumes and alcohol bottles, trying on the occasional new fragrance finding nothing to my liking, thumbed through the newest paperbacks and magazines finding nothing that held my interest, and rummaged through a bin of used DVDs but found nothing to watch. 
In truth, I was listless. Having just ended five weeks of a very significant time in my life, finding anything else to inspire or hold my attention at this moment was going to be a challenge. I bought a cup of coffee, found an empty seat in the middle of a crowded waiting area and sat there and thought. Thought about the weeks gone by and all that it had taught me. I’m not one for the light use of superlatives. Their exclamatory overuse can tint the most inspiring of experiences with a thin veneer of kitsch if not carefully used. Adding –est to the end of any adjective for me meant it was hard won and earned.  But when I thought back on the last five weeks and all I had seen and all the places I had gone I couldn't help but put –est’s on the end of all the experiences I had come across. 
I had walked miles and miles over and under and through the city. I had seen it by underground, by bus, by train, by boat by foot and by cab. I had scoured its halls from the Paleolithic pageantry of the Natural History Museum to the marvelous modernity of the Tate. I had seen iconic relics like the Rosetta Stone and the Elgin Marbles and novel wonders like the high speed train and the Gherkin building. I had seen first drafts of the Beatles and Beethoven, laid eyes on the first Bible ever printed and seen the last printing Gutenberg survived. I'd seen established landmarks and famous paintings and seen things I could have never dreamed of like a room full of porcelain sunflower seeds.

I had seen the skeleton of the tallest man who ever lived (The Irish Giant at the Hunterian Museum) and stood by the most expensive painting ever sold (Picasso’s Nude, Green Leaves and Bust at the Tate Modern). I had stood 365 feet at the highest point of London (atop St. Paul’s Cathedral on Ludgate Hill) and at absolute zero, longitude 0°00'00'' atThe Prime Meridian of the World. I had touched the oldest object I’d ever come across (the 4 billion year old Gibeon meteorite at the Royal Observatory) and slept under the largest moon of my entire life (the perigree moon on March 19^th). I had even gone back to the very first house I had ever lived in. For all my reluctance to use it, this journey was full of -est's and I was forever changed by them.
I had seen gardens and palaces and libraries and crypts, climbed hills and stairs and ladders and lifts. I had drank gourmet wine and feasted like kings, then ate simple fare and fried onion rings. I drank tea and ciders and pints and ale, ate pasties and pastries and sweets without fail. I jumped in the crowd and moved at their pace, then sat down alone in calm sacred space. I’d seen pomp and regalia of royal legacy and eaten with students on campus refectory. I’d done it all and yes, it was exciting and thrilling and fascinating and never left me without inspired wonder at the end of each and every day, but it was nothing compared to that which mattered most to me on this trip, the people who touched my life.

I had reconnected with a long lost past of friends and neighbors who had known me before I was even born, who still knew and spoke of my parents though they were a thousand miles away and a lifetime ago. I had made new friends from all around the world, who I had only known briefly, but hoped to know for a long time to come. I had lived with a family who had taken me in as their own and never once made me feel like I was too far from home.  The memory of these magnificent lives who had touched mine and the love they had shown me were the cherished gifts I was bringing home with, ones that would not soon be forgotten.

The lights on the monitor flashed my flight's boarding. I picked up my back pack, took a last long sip of my coffee and headed for the gate. As I passed the long glass corridor that overlooked the runway, I saw the plane that would take me home, the cloudy grey London day behind it, my heart full of sentiment and nostalgia. I handed the attendant my boarding pass and took a step up onto plane, with a final breath and sigh, I said a silent farewell to London in my heart.

I knew I would miss this place, this time, this experience. It had restored me, rejuvenated me, reignited a flicker in me, showing me sides of the world and myself that had been long hidden until my decision to arrive. The longing in me would beg for return, how could it not. They say the place you were born stays in you no matter how far you go from it. It was true. I was born in this city and would forever hold it somewhere deep within me. 
As the plane ascended flight off the runway from the birthland to the homeland, I looked out the window and watched the ground disappear, it was soon gone, but I was certain, it would never be forgotten.

Day 34: Memories To Hold

River Boat Tour on the Thames

St. Paul's

Waking up on my last full day in London, I was filled with a mixture of nostalgia and an already established  intense desire for return. I was determined not to get too sad today so decided to fill my time with some last minute sightseeing. 

 Despite an aggressive and ambitious sightseeing schedule over the last 5 weeks, there were still so many places on my list I had yet to see, but time was up. I would have to pick only one or two for the day. It was an unusually warm and sunny day, so I decided the river boat tour on the Thames that I had been flirting with for all these weeks was in order. It was time. 

Happy to be in the sun!

With suitcases nearly packed, I grabbed my sunglasses and a purse full of coins I needed to use up and headed for the Westminster Pier.

Tower of London

Taking my final walk to the tube through Highbury Fields, I tried to breathe in every detail I saw, memorizing as many moments as I could to take home with me. There were no weight restrictions on these memories. I tried to remember the vibrant yellow cups of the daffodils against the almost astro-turf green of the grass, the sound of stroller wheels along the sidewalk, the clanking of chains around dog collars, the arc of tree branches, the rumble trucks on adjacent streets, all of it.Walking across the street towards the Highbury and Islington underground station, I took my last Metro newspaper from the now familiar news man, and swiped my Oyster card along its entrance gates for the last time, a pang of sadness welling up with each of these final acts.

Such a tourist!

Arriving at Westminster Pier, there was already a long line, after all with weather as good as the one today who wouldn’t want to be on a river boat down the Thames! The copper glow of Big Ben and Parliament glistened behind me as the slow turning wheel of the London eye rotated in front.  German, Spanish, French and Chinese accents surrounded me and a group of school children bounced up and down in place excited for the trip ahead. I took my seat on the top deck next to an elderly woman who was also traveling alone. She was on vacation from Australia visiting her nephew who worked in the Australian Embassy. We exchanged stories on where we had gone and what we had seen on our last few weeks of touring London and swapped tips on when best to avoid lines and crowds and how to get early tickets.  We took each other’s obligatory pictures by the boat’s railing and then we were off.

The Tower of London

Final lunch

It was already nearing noon, so the sun was high in the sky. The top deck was full and the crowd was enthusiastic. It was nice to feel the sun on my face after so long despite the slight chill that was still in the air. 

The boat made way as the Captain gave a commentary on all the landmarks along the way. As we turned away from Big Ben towards St. Paul’s Cathedral the entire splendor of the City along the Thames was so poignant in that moment that I unconsciously said out loud, “God, I love London.” To which my new found travel companion from Australia replied, “I have a feeling you are going to miss it very much after five weeks.” And she was right. I really was.

My lunch companion

Marble Arch in the Background

Seeing the city from the river made it difficult to decide which bank to look at at in any given moment. St. Paul’s on the right, Tate on the left, The Gherkin on the right, The Globe on the left, back and forth, back and forth. I felt like I was watching a tennis match of historic landmarks, where one bank’s serve was outmatched by the other’s return the further down we went.  It was one of the happiest moments of the entire trip sitting atop the deck of that Thames river boat. I couldn’t have asked for a better ending to my last day.

The Gummy Family

The boat docked at the Tower of London and I disembarked. I decided to take the boat one way and walk back the other.  I wanted to see the city on foot for as long as my feet would let me. The plan was to walk to Hyde Park, pick up lunch on the way and have a picnic. I hadn’t seen Hyde Park yet on this trip so I set off. I walked along the streets of Oxford Circus doing some window shopping. The streets were especially crowded on this sunny lunch hour. The smell of freshly made waffles with ice cream from multiple street vendors was almost too much to resist, but I did. I wanted to be really hungry by the time I reached Hyde Park to savor my last lunch.

I found a Pret a Manger a block away from Speaker’s Corner and bought a tuna Panini and a soda. This was going to be a great lunch and my last one in London. I perched myself atop a little grassy hill that looked straight onto a magnificent, suspended horse head sculpture! I was mesmerized by the sheer engineering and dynamics of such a sculpture to even be erected let alone the beauty of its design.It was quite inspiring to look at.

I was quite content to spend my lunch with him. Behind me a small crowd had gathered around Speaker’s Corner to hear a man speak about the war in Libya and what was the US and the UK doing in there anyway. I wasn’t in the mood today for politics, so I didn’t listen too intently. Today was a day of sentimental goodbyes and last-minute memory hoarding, there would be plenty of time to debate the constitutionality of the US involvement in Libya when I returned home. Today was about creating the memories I would hold.

Spring in Hyde Park

I photographed some of the flowers and sculptures in the Park and then lay down on the grass. I purposely kept my iPod at home on this last day. I wanted to hold on to the sounds of London as much as I wanted to hold on to its sights.  I must have taken a much longer stroll through Hyde Park than I expected because the next time I looked down at my watch it was already time to head over to the pub to meet the gang. It was to be our team’s farewell drink. 

The Marlborough Arms on Torrington Place right next to campus was a lively and loud, but classically beautiful, English pub. Marie had already arrived and we were lucky to have procured the last remaining table by the window. I went to the bar and ordered a Bulmer’s Red Apple Cider with ice, I was getting really good at ordering apple cider at pubs now, and headed back to Marie. As my birthday was only a few days away, Marie had sweetly brought us all fancy chocolate and strawberry pastries. 

Let them eat cake!

Marlborough Arms Pub

We celebrated my birthday yet to come with pints and pastries and laughed about the comic interludes of our group’s work over the last five weeks. The warmth of the alcohol rising to my cheeks, the sweet licks of custard on my lips, the laughter of Marie and Anna in my ears with the view of a beautiful English pub down the street from campus on the final day of exams before Spring Break behind them, were almost too much happiness for one single moment to fit in, but it did.   

Birthday cakes for me?! Yay!

Sitting in that corner table by the window next to Anna and Marie, celebrating my birthday in the country I was born, awaiting the rest of the crew to show up, was a moment brim-full of joy and beauty and one I fixed in my memory to stay.

We ended the evening with hugs and goodbyes and everyone walked their separate ways. I thought I would have felt lonelier in that moment walking away from all of them, turning my back on my final walk away from campus, but somehow I didn’t. 

I was undoubtedly sad, but tenderly so. I had made some meaningful friendships on this trip and ones that would not soon be forgotten. Swiping my Oyster card on its final run at Goodge Station, the cool night air behind my back, I made way for the warmth of the underground below.  I was glad I spent my final day in London on a solo farewell in the day with the warmth of friends at night. It was the perfect balance.  

Priceless.

 I wasn’t sure if I would ever see Anna or Marie or the rest of the group ever again, but I sincerely hoped I would. We had planted the seeds of friendship and what remained now was to watch it grow, watered with the hope that one day it would. 

I'll miss you guys!

Holding on to the rail as the train departed the platform, I closed my eyes letting my body to sway to the moving carriage, fluidly letting go, grabbing on tightly to the memories I would hold.

Day 33: Skin and Bones

The Hunterian Museum

I was heading into my last two days here.  Looking back through my photographs, I realized just how much I had seen and done in the last 33 days! Wow. But I wasn’t done yet. I had spoken to my mom a few days before and she insisted I visit the Hunterian Museum at the Royal College of Surgeons before I came home. Apparently, she told me, when my father was training for his FRCS (Fellow of the Royal College of Surgeons) he would come to the Hunterian Museum and my mother would quiz him on the specimens displayed. 

The 'Irish Giant'

As I had gone to another medical museum, The Wellcome Collection two days after I got here, going to the Hunterian Museum seemed fitting two days before I left, symmetry.

The Hunterian Museum is on the top floor of the Royal College of Surgeons on Lincoln’s Inn Fields. Housed within this museum are over 3,000 specimens of formaldehyde prepared, curated, and preserved animal and human body parts. The central hall, the Crystal Room, is a two-story floor to ceiling display of glass containing bones, organs, teeth, guts, eyeballs, you name it.  This place was amazing!

There was the skeleton of the tallest man who ever lived, Charles Byrne, the ‘Irish Giant’ as well as that of the shortest woman who ever lived, a skeleton of a Dodo bird, of extinct animals and insects and numerous shelves of skulls and bones.  

Poor guy.

This scientific mausoleum of memento mori held specimens of hands and feet covered in small pox, syphilitic skulls, TB infected bones, tumors of all kinds and drawers and drawers of pathological specimens. 

Dodo bird skeleton

The precision and detail of some of the anatomical dissections, especially the ones showing intact nerves, such as the Evelyn tables, was incredible. The museum showcased various dissection and preservation techniques since the 1700’s. Upstairs they had a section on modern advancements in surgery including a heart-lung bypass machine, a laproscopic surgical machine and videos on actual coronary bypass, brain tumor removal and arthroscopic surgeries. This place would have been a house of horrors had it not been for the fact that all of it was archived in the name of science. 

Siamese twin skulls

To think, some of the human specimens were over 300 years old! Unfortunately photography was not allowed (ahem) so I wasn’t able to archive my own collection of specimens, but I did manage to get a few sneaky pics in.'

 I was glad I took my mom up on her advice and came to the Hunterian Museum. It was fascinating spending the afternoon with 3,000 dead and preserved body parts. 

Syphilitic skulls

As I headed down back to Holborn Station on yet another sunny day in London, I bought some fruit off a street vendor.

An entire pig epididymis- dissected!

Look, big foot!

Munching on grapes as I cut through the park, I was happy to be a live specimen in this wild and wonderful world.