my place and time

It is indeed a chance to look through a window at a different world. This picture is of the scenery out of my dorm window and while it is not stunningly picturesque, it reminds me that I am in a different place and almost a different time. But London is a lovely place and this is time well spent.

The place I am in is old. 1776? Hah, many of these buildings predate that year by a few, but the age is not measured in buildings, but rather in a culture that has been multicultural longer than we Americans have existed. I am no Anglophile, I dearly love my land and my home, but neither am I opposed to learning a lesson or two from my elders. One of the first lessons I learned here was that the Brits as a whole are far more knowledgeable about America, and by a stretch more respectful of America than we are of them. It was rather humbling, and was obvious almost immediately. This is a land of beauty as well, from the architecture of city streets to rolling hillsides of wheat ripening for harvest and hay being mown. Thatched cottages and lead roofs, I find the beauty in diversity.

I find that I do not need them to be like me, nor do I need to be like them, and neither do I see their culture as the Other, rather I realize that they are me in the other place. And there is room for both of us. I appreciate being their guest for this time and place.

Time is different on the journey. I could lie and look wise by saying that this is a time of deep reflection, but the truth is that like all journeys, it is a busy time. So much to do and so much to see, I have contented myself that I will see what comes before me, as it is more than I would have seen had I not been in this place. I do reflections however, my professors demand that I do so! They act as if they control my grades. And so they do. So I turn away from trying to decide between Indian Cuisine and solid Pub fare, and instead ponder the significance of Mithras to the early Christians in post-Roman Britain, or the symbolism rampant in Tolkien’s invented Elven languages.

“Today by five you say! Bloody Professors! Taskmasters! They dare to teach me something new and wondrous whilst I try to be a good tourist!” I put down my bitter, and my nose goes to the grindstone and I put off blogging home another day and save another site for another trip, God Willing. And the time flies, and each day is rich with experience and sights to reflect upon.

Photographs, by the hundreds to be gone thru another time, some to become priceless, all to be mine. London is mine as well. I am learning her allure first hand. The noise and smells and vibrations, her visages and inspirations. The ability to come home to the King’s College in Hampstead alone on her massive transit system and not be lost, now that is priceless. An education in and of itself!

There will be more. This trip cannot be absorbed in a matter of weeks. This place and this time, they will become a part of me, and I will be a part of them. I need not write it upon a wall, I was here. July 2011.