We'll take a cup o' kindness yet...

It’s hard to know quite where to start after a week like the one I just had. It makes sense to start at the beginning, but really, how interesting is a chronological account of a journey abroad? And, how does that make any sense when I can't even keep the order of events straight? Why proffer a contrived semblance of reality when the madness is so much more fun?

After seven days in the UK and a bit of a hike/walk through the entire city of Newark to catch my second train to London, I tucked into a seat next to a older English man who seemed utterly unamused by my presence, even after I did my best oh-look-how-cute-and-American-and-confused-I-am. Apparently, he didn't like redheads. Trying to soothe my aching self, I pulled out a delicious gluten-free sweet that I had bought. This incredible concoction of gastronomical heaven helped me to cherish my last few hours riding along in a bouncing train in the English countryside--truly a perfect moment. As I read the label (of course I did), I started to realize how amazing this company Honeybuns actually is. Not only do they make gluten-free food, but they also use their business to contribute to making the world a better place. Their labels talk about the efforts they take to be green as a company and about an organization they sponsor called Samaritans which offers a listening ear. What a notion! To live simply and happily and to make the world a better place.

After a short meditation on simplicity and the beauty of living, I spent the remainder of the ride reflecting on the experiences I'd had over the last week, which felt like a lot longer than a week, and what perhaps that aching feeling inside me meant.

The greatest moments were the ones that couldn't be planned. Hiccups in the plan or twists in the road (sometimes literally) wove together into this perfect tapestry of unexpected brilliance. From five hours alone in the car with my new brother-in-law getting to know him to his lovely friends who became our Edinburgh companions, everything was amazing. Hogmanay (the New Years' celebration in Edinburgh) was outstanding with some of the greatest fireworks I've ever seen and a rousing rendition of Auld Lang Syne which prompted a Scottish fellow to tell our group that we sounded like cats. 

The "Big Wheel" as the Brits called it.
Beautiful and fun to ride!

Melissa and I-typical self-portrait.

Lovely fireworks!

After three days of barely seeing sunlight, my sisters Tiffany and Melissa took me on a tour of London. I saw the changing of the guard in front of Buckingham Palace, rode the tube, walked around Piccadilly Circus, listened to the drunken rants of an Irishman (made me proud), saw Big Ben and Westminster Abbey, and spent a great day with my sisters. The two moments that stand out most were the least planned. First, we stopped into a beautiful church just to have a peek and wandered into the rehearsal for that night's performance of Handel's Messiah. A rather normal looking fellow stood at the front and after a false start or two, the orchestra started playing harmoniously. For a moment I zoned out and then this booming, incredible, completely unexpected voice came out of the man in front. We stayed for the entirety of the song, swept up by the beauty of that moment. Later, we went to Melissa and Tiffany's (dare I say) favorite play Blood Brothers. It was outstanding. The acting was phenomenal, the story line devastating, the songs beautiful and compelling. All in all, London was incredible. The next day was spent at Tiffany, Rob, and Melissa's new place in High Wycombe. Mostly we just hung out and watched The Inbetweeners (a hilarious, terribly British TV show that makes me laugh in that embarrassing way that so many of you are familiar with. You know, the one where I start crying and laugh for about five minutes after everyone else is over it. Yeah. That kind of laughing).

Rob and I drove three hours to Lincoln where I spent my last day wandering through the city alone (with my giant bag on my back). On the way there, I was nervous and afraid that maybe I would hate having to explore by myself, but as soon as I said goodbye to my brother-in-law and set off to see the cathedral, that old part of me came back to life. Being alone is such a wildly comforting feeling, especially when I know it's only temporary. I spent a few hours in the cathedral, another hour just wandering around by the castle and the other old parts of the town, and then finally an hour or so in the pub. Now, that, my friends, is a day in England. Somewhere between the pub and my train ride the next day, I worked on my posh (which stands for Port Out Starboard Home, the name of the expensive cabins on boats back in the day) accent, realized it had been over a year since I'd been abroad, and felt truly happy.

The lovely town of Lincoln, UK

The Cathedral during the day

A reflection from the Cathedral onto the sidewalk
that I thought was really cool.
Seriously, I have like fifteen of this same photo.

A grandfather and his grandson playing and making
shadows in the light of the church.

The Cathedral by night.

As for the aching feeling I felt on my train ride back to London, let's call it one part nervousness about making my flight (which I did just in the nick of time), two parts befuddlement, and one part exhaustion. My befuddlement, of course, was at realizing that yet again I had found another little piece of the world to love. Yet again, I had found people I could be friends with, places I could explore, and a public transit system I could use (I'm guessing by this point in my blogging, you understand that I am obsessed with public transit. Having grown up without it, I think it is a modern miracle. One day, I'd like to write a book about how I think public transit says a lot about a place...one day). My befuddlement was also at the realization that I long for foreign lands. Sometimes, I think I have convinced myself not to feel that way, but I do. I want to be somewhere...else. Now, I'm not particularly interested in the roots of this feeling (I can just hear some psychologist in a crazy German accent saying, "As you can see, ze child wizout a stable childhood growz up to be ze adult wiz ze wanderlust.") I do, however, wonder what it means for my future. There is so much of the world I have yet to see and I wonder how I will see it all. Mind you, how. Not if.

Finally in the plane about to depart from Heathrow, I had left another little piece of me in England. I'm not worried, though, I have plenty of reasons to go back. And, the flight takes the same amount of time as flying to California.

All of these thoughts and memories swirling inside me, I am slowly getting back into my routine here in Somerville. I'm in the laundromat as we speak, excited to have clean clothes. I'll work all weekend and next week I'm attending a poetry workshop two of my friends are running. Hopefully, somewhere in the midst of all that, I'll be able to knock a few things off my ambitious to-do list.

Life is good here. I'm a little restless, but no worse for wear. 

In honor of the time of year, may we all raise a cup o' kindness yet for Auld Lang Syne. Happy New Year, everyone!

-Sierra

On a final note, my New Year's Resolution is to spend Saturdays for self-care (running, getting in long bike rides, playing with my dog, sleeping) and staying in contact. Hopefully, you can expect a new post from me on Saturdays, though there may be points where I slack...