It all started on Monday. (Kentucky Monday, not England Monday. Unless they're the same Monday. Time is confusing.) I had been feeling a little under the weather for a couple of days (and by 'under the weather' I mean headache, sore throat, chills, and a fever of 102), and Mom decided to take me to get it checked out on that Monday. Just pick the one that best fits your world view. After an ironically long wait at the 'Urgent' Care Clinic (sarcastic apostrophes added by me), I was diagnosed with strep throat. Yaaaaaaaaaaay my life. I got medication for it and that was that. I would just have to deal with it until it stopped. Unfortunately, this meant I also had to deal with it during my 19-hour happy travel fun time.
I flew out of Lexington on a very uneventful flight to Dallas/Fort Worth, fully armed with anti-strep horse pills, anti-dizziness ear drops, and a full bottle of ibuprofen. Once there, I realized just how big airports can be. When it takes your plane 5 minutes after landing to taxi around to the correct gate, you know you're in a biiiiiiiiiiiiiig airport. The ibuprofen I had taken earlier was beginning to wear off, and my symptoms were returning. Shivering the whole way, I took the tram to my departure terminal (DFW is spread out over, like, 5 different buildings, connected with a tram system) and ordered some Popeye's chicken nuggets, shivering all the way. As it turns out, chicken nuggets aren't the best thing to eat when your throat is sore. Too hard and crusty and poky on my poor soft fleshy esophagus. Oh well, lesson learned for next time. I was able to access the WiFi there and Netflixed it up during my 4-hour layover.
My flight to England was on a really big plane. Like, really big. Like, 10-seats-in-a-row big. Although big and comfortable don't necessarily go together. Which was a bummer, because I had planned to sleep the whole way. By getting sleep on the plane and starting my first day in London rested, I foresaw the evils of jet lag flying by me, my body already adjusting to the new time zone. I was able to get some rest, but it was a long and fitful flight. My chills returned a couple times, and although I spent a lot of time with my eyes closed, I don't know exactly how much I slept. I do know how long 8 hours can be at the moment when you realize it's only been 4.
In any case, I landed in London's Heathrow Airport ready to go. I left the airplane and then walked approximately three and a half thousand miles to find a sign that didn't tell me to just keep on going where I'm going. Like I said, big airports are BIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIG. I went through customs just fine, which surprised me. I had heard that they would require me to shill out my passport, student confirmation letter, bank statements, proof of a flight back, and my first through third children, each with an apple in his/her/zir mouth and each holding one of my limbs. But the woman just asked me for my passport, my student confirmation letter, asked me some information I had forgotten to fill out on my landing card, and then stamped me in and I was good to go. It was simple. I like simple.
I grabbed my checked suitcase and wandered out into the lobby to find the LDA shuttle. Sure enough, there was an older British man holding a notebook on which he had penciled "Fordham LDA." Well, that's me! I walked up and they already knew my name (which shows that they're devoted to their students, not that they're creepy) and his younger female partner walked me over to where several other LDA students were waiting. We introduced each other and had a fine time, waiting for the others to arrive. Finally they did, and we departed on our 45-minute bus journey to Kensington, the neighborhood in London where we're staying.
I had heard Kensington was one of London's nicer districts, and boy were they right. Most of the buildings are straight out of a Dickens novel, entire streets of tall brick masterpieces crowned with cast iron or of towering alabaster flats with columned stoops. There are no vents spewing the noxious contents of the city's underbelly onto street level. Instead, the streets are lined with flowering trees, many of which are already starting to bloom. One does smell exhaust, admittedly (it's a city of 8,000,000 people--of course you do), but with every other breath you inhale the sweet scent of whatever blossom you happen to be passing by. Everywhere you look, there is a cobblestone ally winding its way off of the main highway into the beautiful antique facades. I am staying at Heythrop College, located at the end of one such ally.
While the area is very visually appealing, I do have some issues with how Heythrop runs its operation (most of which, I'm sure, are due to my underexposure to actual problems). For instance, we got Heythrop student IDs which only let us on to our floor, the doors lock strangely and don't stay open, and you have to push a button to unlock the door from the inside. I ask you, WHAT IS WRONG WITH JUST LEAVING? Anyway. They also told me to bring sheets and a towel, which I begrudgingly did, and then provided me with sheets and a towel. In case you don't believe me, I present:
EXHIBIT A:
Great. Glad I took up all that space in my suitcase.
But these are small complaints. The city is absolutely stunning, and the people seem really great. I'm excited to start classes next Monday (this one had better be an England Monday), so I can report back on the real reason I'm here. But more on that later.
Until next time,
Ian
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