Day 23 and 24: Tea and Tarts and Then We Work

Tottenham Court Rd at Night

The Morning Metro: 500 Days to the Olympics

The night came upon us faster than expected. We had been plugging away at charts and graphs and tables now for almost nine hours. Although our first draft proposal was generally met with good results, we still had the devil to deal with; the details. 

As we sat around the conference table hashing through papers and powerpoints I realized that more and more lately, if I did not remind myself I was in London, I forgot that I was. I began the morning reading The Metro, and ended the day reading the Evening Standard. I had mastered navigating the City by tube and my local barista knew my order when I walked in the door, “grande non-fat, no foam, latte to take-away, right?” Right. I was calling cookies, biscuits, TV, the tele, the underground, the tube (pronounced chube), and soccer, football. A friend was a mate and an apartment was a flat. I was bagging my own groceries, using coins without looking at the numbers anymore, crossing the street looking in the correct direction, and best of all, I was helping other lost souls find their way around town! Yes, there was no denying it, I was becoming a regular. 

The Evening Standard: Japan

Work,

Although I was born in London, I was very young when my parents moved to the States. What I have known about London has been through my brief visits on vacation here through the years, but I have never known it the way I know it now. This time, in the last twenty something days I’ve been here, I’ve unlocked an understanding of it I’d never appreciated before. I had finally seen this city for its lines and its detours, for its intricacies and its details. I had gotten lost in its cracks and crevices and found my way out. I wasn’t just becoming a part of it, it was finally becoming a part of me. We took a much needed study break and sat around the refectory lounge sipping tea and nibbling on diabetes-inducing cherry Bakewell tarts that looked like treats the Mad Hatter would serve at his tea party. We talked about crazy British sitcoms and then about the devastation in Japan.The newspapers had been divided today. In the morning The Metro, triumphed the “500 days to the Olympics” countdown, advertising the tickets that began selling today.

The walk home

Work

And in the evening, The Standard reported the ongoing threat of nuclear meltdown showing photographs of the rescue efforts in Japan. The world was on its way to London, London was on its way to Japan, and we sat in the basement of our international campus discussing our points-of-view on what would happen next. I remembered just how far from home I was and realized just how at home I felt.

Treat from the Mad Hatter

Then more work.

There was a certain comfort in being in these surroundings now, a familiarity of being on study break with my group, the night fast approaching, around a cafeteria table in London. It felt easy. Walking back through the lamplit turns of Highbury Fields, it was already dark outside, but I knew the way back now, even in the dark. Sure-footedly I crossed the path where the tennis courts met the playground, turned at the bus stop where the “zebra-crossing” lights flashed and traversed decidedly onto the street where I lived. The scent of dinner teased the night. Late arrivers pulled into their car parks, wearily making their way to evening tea.

Tea and Tarts

Young kids on their scooters made their final race around the cul-de-sac, high schoolers hurried back on their bikes, and the last strollers came wheeling down the block. It was the end of the day.

Oh, those Brits and their sense of humor!

"Thames Water"

I made my way to my room, took off my shoes, put on the kettle and did what I’d become used to doing now all these days after school, I made some tea and read the rest of the Evening Standard. I was at home.