Well, folks, this is it. My bags are all packed, my room is all clean, and my friends just left to go out. In the morning, I'm taking a taxi to a train to a tube to a plane to a plane to a plane to my car to my house. My time in York, England has come to an end.
I'm going back home.
If I could describe my study abroad experience, it would be "real." For my whole life, I've gone to strange schools and hung out with strange people who had strange ideas of fun. The most important part of high school was getting pop tabs, my friends back home would define a good night as one where we see if I can eat a hard taco in 3 bites (I can), and we're constantly saying things like, "I wonder what real people do. I wonder what real school is like. I wonder if we could ever be real." In my time in England, I've done things that I never thought that I could ever do. I like to go clubbing. I like sitting in big lecture halls. I like seeing popular films in the cinema. I know now that I can be a "real person."
But it's time to go back to my world of fandom tees, debates about Narcissa Malfoy's intentions, Walmart parties, and talking about Rastamouse with my professors in the middle of class. It's time to hang up my little blue party dress in favor of the MacLeod tartan kilt. It's time to stop living my Hannah Montana life and go back to being Miley Stewart.
Don't get me wrong. I am way too excited to go home. I've missed my friends and family so much. I need to be at camp. I need Wooster. I need Lakewood. But I also need York. Halifax College. Flat L. My friends in both America AND England.
The goodbyes were tearful, to say the least. Well, no. "Tearful" is an understatement. I cried on several separate occasions tonight...including right now. Shoot, now I'm sobbing again. Please give me a moment.
Deep breaths, Ellen. You have the Internet, after all. We've promised to snapchat and IM and keep in touch.
At least I'm too upset about leaving to be nervous about missing all of my connects! That's always something...right?
York, it's been real. I can't wait to re-visit you in the future. But until then...
As my time in England nears its end, I've found myself thinking a lot about what I'm going to miss the most. I'm going to miss the creepy plaster face above my bed. I'm going to miss getting Mama Noodle Cups and microwavable chicken patty sandwiches at Nisa. I'm going to miss walking on the bridge over the lake and running away from the terrifying geese. But I know now that the thing that I'm really going to miss the most about this country are the friends that I have made.
As a person with generalized and social anxiety, I have a really difficult time thinking that people like me. I know that I'm a likeable girl and that I've got a ton of friends all over the world, but the anxiety part of my brain is constantly telling me that everyone hates me or that everyone's judging me. I've been known to have anxiety attacks whenever I have to walk down to the kitchen to get some food or walk outside to take the bins out for fear of people seeing me and judging me. I spend a lot of time sitting in front of mirrors reciting the reasons why people keep me around. This isn't a pity call, however. This isn't an invitation for everyone to tell me that they love me. I genuinely know that. It's all very hard to explain, but it was necessary to say to make you realize why the next bit meant so much to me.
Yesterday at around 6pm, I was sitting in my room after a long group presentation preparation session in the library when one of my friends messaged me and said that we were going to hang out in the kitchen at 7pm. I thanked him and went back to my internetting. However, the more I thought about it, the more confused I became. Why were we hanging out in the kitchen at 7pm?! Not only was that really early, but if we ever hang out, it's in somebody's room. However, I decided not to question it any further, figuring that no one felt like giving up their room to host that evening.
At 6:59, I was almost finished getting ready when another friend knocked on my door. I answered it and she told me that we were all in the kitchen. I thanked her again and promised that I would be down in a moment. I re-thought that that was odd, but brushed it off again, thinking that perhaps my two friends hadn't communicated about the fact that I had been informed of this gathering.
When I walked downstairs and rounded the corner to the kitchen, I saw that there were white balloons taped up. I walked inside and heard everyone yell, "SURPRISE!" I looked over and saw that all of my friends were sitting at a table covered in burgers, hot dogs, sausages, crisps, chips, and scones. There were England balloons taped all over the place, England bunting on the rafters, and a great big bed sheet that looked like the American flag and the British flag with "We'll Miss You!" in the center. "American Pie" was playing in the background. I brought my hand to my mouth, deeply touched, got a bit blushy, and turned to leave the room for a moment from being so shy and delightfully embarrassed about the whole thing. (If you're friends with me on Facebook, there's a video of my reaction. And if you're not, feel free to either add me or watch it on the Facebook of someone who is my friend). When I sat down at the table, there was an adorable teddy bear card at my place setting. After "American Pie" finished, we all listened to the Frozen soundtrack and had a lovely dinner party. We then got ready to go to my favorite club, Club Salvation, and hilarity ensued ;)
I am so blessed that I have these wonderful people in my life. Whenever I think about my times in England, I'm not going to think about touring St. Paul's or seeing Big Ben. I'm going to think about sitting around eating Chinese food, those fun couple of hours before going to the clubs, the adventures that took place while we were buying food, bickering while playing board games, and sitting around watching films. You know. The wonderful genuine moments that I spent with my friends :')
Thank you, Flat L, not only for my party, but for accepting me without any judgement or reservation. No one has ever done anything like this for me before. You guys truly don't know how much this party and your friendship all meant to me.
The birds are chirping. The sun is shining. The breeze is blowing. I only have to wear a light hoodie when it comes out. You know what that means. It's spring!
Alright, so it's been spring for a good month now. But as a native Ohioan, I know to never trust spring. Whenever it starts to get warm and you get excited that spring is here, it gets really cold again and a huge blizzard rolls in and kills all of the pretty flowers. However, seeing as how it's June tomorrow, I'm 99% sure that this blog won't jinx the warm weather and cause Queen Elsa to set us into an eternal winter.
England is absolutely stunning in the spring. Everywhere you look, there are beautiful flowers and gorgeous trees. The country has gone from being grey and bleak to looking like a postcard. While the plants aren't doing much for my spring allergies, or "hay fever" as it's called here, they're lovely to look at.
The campus is built around a nice sized lake filled with many different kinds of birds. While the ducks are cute, the majority of the geese and swans terrify me to no end. I finally understand why kids run for their lives when playing games of "duck duck goose." However, since it's spring, all of these birds have babies now, and nothing is cuter than a gosling. I tried to get a good picture of them, but since their mamas and papas tend to hiss at you if you even look at their babies, I got one on the bridge and ran away before the mother goose could come and gouge my eyes out with her terrifying goose beak.
Mama Goose is glaring at me...
Nothing says spring and summertime like ice cream. While I was playing football with my friends, they were asking me if I've ever tried certain kinds of ice cream bars. It was then that I realized that not only are the sweets here different than they are at home, but the ice creams are as well. So I bought a couple and was NOT disappointed! Let me tell you...if I could figure out some way to fill my suitcase with British ice cream bars, I totally would!
The first one that I bought is a Twister. A Twister is a ice cream treat that has a sherbert core and is wrapped in both creamy vanilla ice cream and hard popsicle. Marius and Cosette's part from "One Day More" popped into my head when I took my first bite.
The other kind of ice cream that I've tried is a Maltesers ice cream bar. Maltesers are the British version of Whoppers. However, while America's only got the malted milk balls, England's also got a candy bar called a Maltesers Teaser, which is like a crunch bar with malted milk ball dots instead of puffed crunchy rice. It quickly became my favorite sweet over here. The ice cream bar is like a Teaser bar, but better.
In other news, in two weeks from now, I will (hopefully) be at the Heathrow Airport, waiting to board my flight to JFK. (I say "hopefully" because I'm still stressing out about getting the bus to the train station, the train to London, and the tube to Heathrow) (But that's another blog post). I'm trying not to think about it. I'm not sure if I'm ready for more goodbyes.
For the past five nights in a row, I've had dreams about coming home from England. Some of them have been rather odd and unbelievable, like the one where Avengers 2 was being filmed at the camp I work at and Samuel L. Jackson was driving me around in a golf cart, but some of them have been so realistic that when I opened my eyes and saw that I was in my room in England, I was confused as to when I had flown back. In the evenings, I spend a lot of time thinking about home. I miss the sound of my back door opening. I miss the church bells. I miss the dog. I miss my American friends. I've been away for so long, and I really miss it all.
But as much as I want to go home, I don't want to leave England at all. I'm not ready to. There are so many wonderful things here that I can't get in Ohio. I love taking the bus into town and getting lost in streets that are older than my entire country. I love going out with my friends here. I love going to the shop here and knowing exactly which brands I like and which brands I can do without. I love learning about the cultural differences that we have with England. I love those little moments when I think about how much I have changed. I've been here for such a short time, but I'm going to really miss it all.
I never stay in one place for too long. Heck, I only live in my "home" for less than 10 weeks out of the entire year! I'm always moving into Wooster. Back home. To camp. To a different cabin each week at camp. Back home for a week. Back to Wooster. Home. Wooster. Home for a month. Wooster. Home. Camp. In fact, York is the place that I've lived in the longest since June of 2011! It's really started to feel like home. I really want to stay here. And the fact that I have to deal with putting everything I own into two suitcases again just makes me want to cry.
Why can't my two worlds just combine?! I simultaneously want to live in both of these places at once. It's hard having so many places to call home. Sure, I miss the Ohio home right now, but once I get back to Ohio, I'm going to start having dreams where I'm back in York with all of my friends here. It means that I have to spend my entire life feeling homesick.
Perhaps I should stop whining. After all, ten years ago, if you would've told me that I have four different places that I call home (home, Wooster, camp, York) and that each of those places has a group of people who genuinely like me, I would've laughed in your face and told you that no one could ever like me that much. I guess that it's a blessing and a curse to have so many places that this song applies to:
"With 1,000 places I call home, I know I'm not alone."
In England, Mother's Day is celebrated at the end of March. But in America, it's celebrated in the middle of May. I was curious as to why that is, so I did a bit of Internet research to find out.
Apparently in the UK, Mother's Day comes from a day that was celebrated on the 4th Sunday of Lent called "Mothering Sunday." This tradition, which dates back to the 16th Century, was a day when Christians would go back to their "mother church" to worship, reuniting the Christians not only with their roots, but with their families as well. Today, it's just a day to show your mother how much you love her.
In the USA, Mother's Day came from a woman named Julia Ward Howe, who wrote a Mother's Day Declaration as a call for peace. In 1914, President Wilson made the day an official holiday, where citizens would honor the mothers of people who died in the war. Today, like in the UK, it's just a day to show your mother how much you love her.
So while the current holidays are extremely similar, with greeting cards, flowers, going out to dinner, and plenty of hugs and kisses, the roots of this holiday could not be more different.
My mom is honestly one of the most wonderful people I know, and I love her more than words can express. I'm so happy that the two of us have such a strong relationship and that she's a part of my life. I can't wait to get another one of her perfect hugs in another month <3
So even though mother's day is on different days and has different roots, if there's one thing that I've learned during my time abroad, it's that mothers are mothers no matter where you go. A mother's love knows no nationality.
Warning: The above link was made by Disney, so it's got the most emotionally manipulating music I've ever heard. Get the tissues before watching it. Oh, and just as a bit of a warning, a couple of clips of Dumbo are included, so my own mom might not want to watch it ;)
I know that it's been a long while since I've posted last. And it's funny, too, because since I've last posted, I've been on two different holidays to London, once with one of my best friends, Meaghan, and once with my family. Perhaps someday, I'll blog about those trips. They really were quite fun. But for now, I have something else on my mind.
The more comfortable I become in England, the more I'll chat freely with other people. And the more freely I chat, the more I realize that I shouldn't do that anymore. When I keep my mouth shut, no one knows that I'm any different then they are. The second I start talking, they realize that I'm from America. And the second I start chatting, they're aware that I'm an American.
A couple of weeks ago in one of my courses, we were reading documents about the French Revolution. The leader of the workshop was saying that the French Revolution was the introduction of a free nation to the world and that these documents pretty much laid out what human rights should be. When the class was working in small groups, I raised my hand to call him over. When he did, I felt a bit nervous, but finally said, "Back home, I've always been taught that the American Revolution was the world's introduction to freedom, and that took place before the French Revolution." He chuckled, "You would think that. But really, the French Revolution is the one that has all of the scholarship and writings about it." I wanted to mention the Declaration of Independence, the works of Thomas Paine, and Patrick Henry's "Give Me Liberty or Give Me Death" speech, but decided against it so that I wouldn't sound too American.
Today, we were reading the 1955 South African Freedom Charter. While I read it, I realized that it sounded a lot like our Declaration of Independence and our Constitution. The freedom charter even begins with "We the people." I was also going through and circling bits that are essentially word-for-word in the American documents, feeling excited by my findings. When I shared what I was doing with my friend, she asked me if all Americans have to know about these documents and if we know them word for word. I told her about how they're really well taught in schools and told her about this song:
She told me that that was so strange and that Americans really have a lot of national pride. I found it to be strange that other countries didn't have the same national pride that Americans do, but I didn't say that. Instead, I made a joke about how Americans always get really passionate about the Olympics, and the conversation drifted to American sweets.
When I raised my hand to share my USA document parallels to the Freedom Charter, the leader of the workshop got kind of awkward about it and skirted over it. I'm starting to think that these American documents which we learn about all the time in school aren't that relevant in the rest of the world.
Last night, I re-watched the Disney Channel Original Movie "The Color of Friendship." I remembered that it was about Apartheid and watched it in preparation of the workshop I attended today where we were discussing some of the documents of that time. However, while I watched, I noticed myself relating more and more to Mahree, the 14-year old exchange student from South Africa. Not because I believe that I live in an extremely racist society or anything, but because she was somebody living abroad in another land who honestly doesn't know if she's doing or saying anything that's weird. For example, there's one scene where the girl she's living with, Piper, asks her if she wants to go to the movies. Mahree is confused for a moment, then smiles and tells Piper what movies are called in South Africa. Piper laughs and tells her that that name for it is weird. I've had similar conversations when discussing card games and stuff with my friends. (Pro tip: In England, "ERS" is "Snap.") It's just hard living someplace and trying to fit in just to realize that you really don't.
This is not to say that I feel like an outcast or anything. Please don't get that impression! My friends are extremely welcoming and accepting of me. Just the other day, when we were sitting in a pub, one friend told me that I've really adapted to and blended with the culture very well...the highest compliment that an abroad student can receive. I just know that my nationality makes me feel different than anyone else. I've never been in the minority before, and it's an odd sensation.
I also fear coming home, because I know for a fact that I've picked up a ton of English customs and jargon that my home friends will think is strange and weird. I've developed opinions over here that other Americans might not agree with. I'm not the same girl that I was in December. We'll just have to see how well this new girl fits in when she gets back to Ohio.
American Ellen in a John F. Kennedy shirt on July 4th
English Ellen with a Lego statue of Queen Elizabeth II
This morning, when I was browsing around the Internet, I came upon the following post:
I thought back to my first week here, where I was making a grilled cheese and a couple of people in my house...I can't remember who, since I was still learning names and tend to avoid eye contact at all costs...were looking at me funny. I thought it was because I was pathetic at using the hob, but now, I'm guessing it was because I told them that I was going to cook a grilled cheese sandwich and did it in a frying pan.
So I snapchatted some of my friends here and sent them the above image, asking them how they make their grilled cheese.
"You make cheese toasties in the pan?" my friend Mimi replied.
"What other way is there to make them?" I asked.
"On the grill," she said.
"The grill outside?" I asked her.
"No, the grill in the oven," she sent back.
"There's a grill in the oven?!" I asked, quite confused at this point.
She sent me back a picture of her oven with the grill knobs circled.
"Then what's the grill outside called?" I asked her, even more confused.
"Still the grill...confusing," she sent.
"But wouldn't you burn yourself?" I asked, thinking about sticking your hand in the oven.
"Burn yourself on what?" she asked me. I realized that she had a point, so I replied:
"Idk. But wouldn't the butter drip?"
"No, we put a pan underneath it. Not sure what that's called," she said.
"Why not just make it in a pan?" I asked her.
"Nah, too confusing," she replied to me.
It's those little things that truly remind me just how different America and England truly are.
Curiosity got the best of me and I decided to go back to the Internet to see what the good people of the world thought about this grilled cheese v. cheese toasty issue. Please note that only a very small number of the posts that I found are represented here because most people are so passionate about this matter that they decided to emphasis their points with a naughty word that starts with the letter "f."
One point to England.
Good point, America. You get a point as well.
girlsgotafacelikemurder is the ultimate peace maker, it seems.
bakiufo is just as confused as I am.
I'm not really sure if I understand that simile, but I like the enthusiasm!
This is the one that made me give up.
In conclusion: I am now extremely hungry, so I think that I'm going to go put some buttery bread and cheese into a pan and turn it into food.
