The Third Country

I've talked a lot about dreams on this blog so far this year. 2016 is, for me, the year of dreams since so much is happening. I went to London and Paris. I'm graduating. I have endless possibilities for the next step in my life.

Things have been happening recently. One thing I'm holding on to for a while, but you should know soon. The other thing is plans for spring break, my last spring break for the foreseeable future.

I'm going to Canada.

I've dreamed of going to Canada since I was young. I don't even know why. I'm just fascinated with the country. To me, it's what the States could have been if we'd been under British rule longer or if France had a stronger presence. Just colder and nicer. (Also, Tim Hortons.)

I want to know what's up there; I want to know what it's like. When I told this to my friend Danielle, she wanted to join in. So come March, the two of us are packing up my Honda and heading north while our peers seek sunnier shores.

If you have any suggestions for things to do or see while we're in Canada, please let me know in the comments below!

Toronto, here we come.

Leeann

Dear London

Dear London,

I expected to fall in love with you and your double-decked buses brightening up every street. I expected to stop and eavesdrop on conversations just to hear proper British accents dressing up even McDonald's orders. I expected to master the Tube and envy Oyster cards. I expected to feel closer to Hogwarts than I ever had.

But your true beauty, London, didn't come from these things. It came from the people, friendly but not trying to talk to you at every corner, and the history. In a way, America's history is connected to that of England. A book my Colonial Mysteries class read talks about how Roanoke is really the start of the United States' history. But does it really begin there? Does history ever really "start," or has it been here all along?

I felt comfortable walking down Kensington High Street alone, but still very American in my short black coat and Vera Bradley purse. The minute I opened my mouth people would know, if not my nationality, my continent. There is a culture here, one that history did not remain in the States 240 years ago. And I feel as if we're missing out on it.

You are one of the safest cities in the world. And yes, that requires cameras staring me down as I descended to the Tube platform. But it also means I let my purse hang free, I didn't hesitate to ask strangers for help. I felt comfortable not talking for once inside each. Something America rarely lets us do.

London, I never wanted to let go of you. I wanted to blend into the crowds on Oxford Street and live near Soho. I wanted to eat non-pub food and make jokes about Nando's. I wanted to grow up in a crisp school uniform with a matching coat and hat. I wanted to sit in your bookstores and soak in the art on the cover of each book, something drastically missing from the States' shelves.

So to the homeless man we passed everyday on the street, to the bartender who apologized for carding me, to the countless Underground workers who let me through once my card stopped working, and to the Beefeater who gave us the best tour of a historical site I've ever had: you are my London. And London, you are my city. 

And I can't wait to return.

Leeann

The Last First Day

My best friends Jordan and Hattie posing with me for our Last First DAy of School photo.

I've grown up going to school. My life has been organized based on class and breaks, basketball games and social functions, homework and tests. The three years I spent not at school are long forgotten in my mind, and were still spent learning--albeit how to eat, walk, and talk.

Yesterday was my last first day of school, the last time I start a fresh batch of classes with new school supplies and books in hand. I had mixed feelings.

On the one hand, I love the first class. Fresh paper, a new syllabus, writing everything in my planner, getting exciting over course material--the first day reminds me why I like school and learning so much.

But it also reminded me how, at least for now, this is the last time I get to learn for the sake of learning. Anything I want to know about colonial America I need to learn now. Any pieces of writing I want multiple people to critique needs to be written and read this semester.

A lot is uncertain about life after May. I might go back to school one day; I might not. This is the semester to participate to the fullest in class discussions, read every assignment, write the things I've always wanted to. 

It's scary and sad to think I'm leaving college behind. But it's also incredibly exciting to think of all I can do in the time I have left.

Leeann