I went to Wimbledon with Jeanie and Rebecca (and Abby and her friend Yas joined us later). Rebecca originally called me at around 6:00 AM asking me if I was ready to go, to which I responded that there was no possible way I was waking up before 9. So we waited, and got to Wimbledon at around 10:00. At which point the queue was six hours long.
We had nothing to entertain ourselves with and no food. I didn’t bring a book, and I wasn’t even properly dressed. We waited in a field, then walked a long a golf course, and finally got into Wimbledon after 5:00. We sat on the hill and watched Andy Roddick lose and then later Andy Murray win. We cheered with the Brits as their countryman played so well. I ate strawberries & cream. Rebecca and I stalked an eighteen-year-old ginger tennis player (who I still follow on Twitter) with his parents sitting near us as his only fans.
I loved going to Wimbledon. Next time I’ll buy a ticket first.
I’m not in London anymore. It’s been four days at home watching the Olympics, not worrying about cooking my own food, and generally enjoying not having to wake up to go to work. But I do miss all of it.
I miss being in London, walking down the street every morning to catch the bus, eating my lunch on the church steps on those rare days when it was warm enough, and hanging out will all the people I already miss so much.
I had some of my photos developed and spent the rest of last night looking over Lisa’s photos. It’s amazing seeing film prints. Digital just isn’t the same, and even though I’ve taken probably more than a thousand photos, I think I like all of the film ones a thousand times more. It made me miss London so much. And Amsterdam. And Paris. And Barcelona.
I can’t believe everything I’ve done this summer. I just can’t wait to go back.
Tomorrow is my last day of work. I’ve been in London for (roughly) 46 days. And as I sit here watching Batman Begins, I’ve started to think about a whole lot of things that I’ve learned and all the memories I’ve accumulated during my time here. I’ve been to two other countries besides England (soon-to-be three, hello Spain!), one of which I didn’t speak the language in. I’ve been to Wimbledon. I’ve been to the beach at Brighton and put my feet in the English Channel. I’ve bought myself a Burberry trench coat. I’ve ridden the Night Bus, taken the Tube, and know all the bus routes to work like the back of my hand. I’ve taken (probably) two thousand pictures. I’ve learned how to work my film camera again. I’ve had time to myself, I’ve listened to new music, found new loves, and read a book. I made six really good friends (not including my workmates, hopefully). I’ve decided what neighborhoods I’m going to hang out in when I come back for school.
Basically, I’ve learned a lot about myself in these past six weeks, and I’m really sad it’s all coming to an end.
I really don’t want to go home.
Though, the weather is generally nicer there, I’ve kind of gotten used to the rain.
What It Feels Like to Live In London
Aside from the misspelling of Daniel Radcliffe’s name and the fact that she thinks I would ever root for Manchester United (Arsenal, baby!) this is pretty true.
A Lonely Day at Work
Everyone I work with is gone today, story-writing for a project we’re working on with a consulting firm. I’ve been sitting alone in my bank of five desks, trying to focus on my work but it’s actually harder for me without someone here. I just keep getting distracted by all the emptiness.
But, I guess it’s the perfect chance for me to tell you about what I do at work everyday. I’m assisting the Service Development Project Coordinator with a project called the Knowledge Base, which is essentailly a Wikipedia of information for the customer service consultants (a fancy name for the people you talk to when you have a complaint). It’s very time-consuming work, and I’ve been working on this task for the past five weeks. For the past two weeks alone I’ve been working on a comprehensive store list of all the Burberry stores in the world (fun fact: THERE ARE A LOT OF BURBERRY STORES IN THE WORLD).
It’s not hard work, but I love it.
Currently, sitting alone in front of my computer, staring at Australian store lists (Melbourne, Perth, Sydney!) I’m also listening to some excellent 8tracks playlists, periodically playing Temple Run when my eye starts to twitch from staring at the computer screen for too long, and wishing I had more of the caramel Ghiradelli chocolate someone brought yesterday.
And the sun is shining. It’s a great day.
flashback: day 1
The first fight I had with my parents over the CEO London experience was when we attempted to book a flight. They had fully supported my decision to apply to intern for the summer in a foreign country (thanks, parents! I love you!), and never once told me that this wasn’t a good idea. The flight, though. That was the problem. I was in New York and my dad was in California, and trying to organize a trans-Atlantic flight over the phone is not an easy task. “No, not that flight! The one on page 15, the one that is x number of hours long instead of y” was my most common phrase. I wanted the shortest flight time, my dad wanted the cheapest one (thanks, Dad for not caring about whether a six-hour layover in Houston sounded excessive)*. In the end, my flight to London wasn’t direct (I almost cried) and left from San Francisco to Newark and then from Newark to London. With the time change, it took nearly 24 hours.
When I finally arrived in London (LONDON! LONDON!), I was exhausted, annoyed, and smelled like bad airplane curry (curry on an airplane! What a terrible idea.). I had too many bags (3). I had no idea how I was going to get from the airport to Acorn (again, thanks Dad for wanting the cheapest option and not allowing me the simplicity of a cab ride, that train was buckets of fun)*. But then, in the middle of a classic London downpour, everything kind of fell into place. I made it to Acorn, the nice Polish lad helped me with my luggage, and I linked up with fellow CEO-er, Jeanie, for our walk to Byng Place.
Nearly twenty-seven hours after I’d left from San Francisco, I was in my new home. I looked around, admired my clean Ikea furniture, and proceeded to sleep for the next twelve hours. It was the best first day I ever had anywhere.
*Dad, if you’re reading this, I really do love you and all above mentions of you are used purely for comedic effect. Please don’t stop paying my tuition.
an american in london
