Epilogue: England 2018 (Part I - Travel Home and Reflections)

My Journey Back to the States

Getting home was very smooth. I checked out of my hotel at 6:30 am and it took all of one minute. My room was actually down the block from the main entrance of the hotel where you check in and out, so I worried a bit that a hotel employee wouldn't be available that early (you have to be buzzed in), but it was no issue. It was a super friendly older guy that I hadn't seen before. I took one last glance at the large world map pinned with hotel visitor hometowns and left my London hotel for good.

I then walked about five minutes to the nearest Underground station, Russell Square Station. This part is what I was probably most nervous about for the entire trip. I have been on the tube before, but never by myself. I was concerned about buying my ticket, getting on the right train (different trains take you to different terminals at the airport), annoying every day rush hour passengers, etc.

Once again, my worry was pointless because I was the only one buying a ticket and one of three people waiting to board. A nice man pointed me in the right direction right away and I boarded at 6:46 am, headed towards Heathrow.


The train was pretty full, with every seat taken and a few people standing. I stood for the entire ride, which was fine because I had a little ledge to rest my butt on. I definitely was expecting the train to be much more full, with only standing room. Perhaps the trains heading into London are more packed at that time of day. Heathrow is on the outskirts on the west side so I was headed away from the city center.

The ride had many stops and took about an hour. I had screenshotted all of the stops so that I could track where I was at any given time. I would recommend doing this! The train itself was also super helpful with electronic boards and announcements about what the next stops were. You don't always get that on every train or bus. The nice part about this ride is that it was a straight shot; I didn't have to change trains. If I go to London again (which I will...DUH), I feel like I could probably handle figuring out the tube, even with changes. I'll have to remember how confident I felt this time.

I arrived at the airport at 7:55 am and went through the rigmarole of checking in and security. I had once again checked in via the United app, but had to do a bit of electronic passport screening. They had kiosks set up where you scanned your passport and the computer took your photo. It then printed out your flight details with the photo, which you presented to some sort of agent who verified who you were. This whole process (including TSA) was super quick. I got to my gate within 30 minutes of arriving to the airport. 

I settled in near my gate but decided to go into some of the stores so that I could spend my last £8 in cash. I needed nothing really, so bought consumables--mostly Cadbury candy which I enjoyed the first few days home.

This flight felt longer than the trip over, but not 7 hours long--maybe more like 5 hours. I watched the Mr. Rogers movie (what a great guy), Interstellar, more episodes of Bill Hader's show Barry, and the commentary from Cord and Tish (Will Ferrell and Molly Shannon) on the Royal Wedding. The flight was not full at all and I thought about switching seats, but ended up staying where I was. I always book an aisle seat, but I will have to remember to book a middle section aisle seat next time because if there's no one in your row, you can lay down! In general I feel like there are better odds that you won't have someone next to you in the middle section. Noted!

We arrived at O'Hare at about 1:30 pm CST, 7:30 pm England time. I exited and asked an employee where I could buy a Peoria Charter ticket and she said it was in a different terminal or I could purchase online. I promptly sat down and bought a ticket on my phone. I was so glad that our flight was on time (early, even) because the next charter picked up at 2:30 pm. I had just a little bit of time to wait. I had a raging headache and figured it was due to not having coffee, so went to the McDonald's and got a pop. It's funny to me that the only restaurant/store you see upon international arrival into O'Hare is McDonald's. Welcome to America!

It was so nice to board the charter and know that I was only a few hours from a location I knew like the back of my hand. My next stop was Uptown Normal and I could relax. I don't even know what I did during those two hours on the bus. I think I listened to music, read a magazine, reflected on my trip, observed the clouds (they were super fluffy and defined), and felt grateful. I arrived in Normal at about 5:00 pm. Philip had parked near the station to pick me up. And I was home.

Reflections

I've been asked several times what my favorite part was and it is nearly impossible to answer that question. Just being there. I am an Anglophile, so my favorite part was everything. However, if I had to pick some specific things, I would choose the following.

     

Cambridge. It will always hold a special place in my heart. It's like a second home. Walking the familiar streets, seeing the famous sites again, and meeting up with my supervisor from my internship were all wonderful. The afternoon tea in Grantchester is unforgettable. I was only in Cambridge for two full days, which was enough for this trip, but also not ever enough.


Durham Cathedral. The grand scale, the Norman architecture, the guided tour, the trip up the northwest tower, the cloisters, learning the history of St. Cuthbert and visiting his shrine, and the happy, uncomfortable accident of participating in evening prayer.


Bishop Auckland. Coming up the hill and spotting the location of my great-great grandparents marriage that my grandma also visited in 1988. The epic performance, Kynren. Taking a ride from a stranger and not dying (jk--although I did like not dying).


Seaham. The splendidly beautiful, rocky coast with a built-in scavenger hunt for sea glass.


London. Platform 9 3/4 at King's Cross and the state rooms tour at Buckingham Palace.

I had quite a few people from home and even locals while I was there say that I was brave for doing this, which is a compliment. I wonder how much of that has to do with the fact that I'm a woman. Would it have been brave if I was a man? I suppose, in general, it did take a certain level of courage. I was a bit nervous for a few aspects, but was bolstered by travel blogs that encouraged me to just do the solo trip that I was dreaming of. I would have regretted it if I hadn't booked the plane ticket in May.

Something that was refreshing while I was there is that I was pretty unconcerned with my appearance. I wasn't seeing anyone I knew, so who cares? I looked in the mirror once in the morning and usually never again until evening. I did not spend the kind of time I usually do criticizing my skin and therefore left it alone...and had less zits! Having only six shirts to pick from (more on what I packed in a future post), I had no real choice about what I was wearing. It made me realize how much energy I put into what I look like and makes this feels more daunting now. A fun milestone that I reached while I was there is that I grew my first white eyebrow hair. *high five*

This trip also made me realize how little room you actually need. I've stayed in small European rooms before, but nothing like the one in Durham. Our three bedroom, two and a half bathroom house for just two of us feels absurd now. Amount of space and possessions to fill that space are starting to mean less and less to me.

I was made to feel incredibly humble on this trip, asking for help and having things explained to me a lot. Talk about courage--it can be hard to reconcile that you don't know what you're doing and need to ask someone. I know I looked a fool a couple of times and probably annoyed people more than a couple of times, but we're all humans here. You kind of have to let your pride go a little bit in terms of taking photos, as well. You very much stand out as a tourist when you stop to take a picture of something that, to a local, is mundane (a normal-looking English street that is actually super charming) or, on the other side of the spectrum, is so completely touristy (King's College Chapel). Asking a stranger to take your photo when you are alone also requires a certain level of humility. I do regret not taking a few photos for fear of looking like a blatant tourist or a pitiful loner, but for the most part, I forced myself out of my comfort zone in this way.

In the car on the way home from the bus station, I started telling Philip a few things and I mentioned that it was weird to hear my own voice with sentences strung together. There were only a few times over the course of the past couple weeks where I had spoken in such a conversational tone. I had kind of forgot what my voice sounded like and it was nice.

Driving into town for the first time on my own when I got back, I really noticed the Illinois landscape. You can see for miles. The shadows of clouds on the crops on an otherwise sunny day was really lovely. The English countryside is known for its beauty and there were times when I was observing it out of a bus or train window and thought to myself that it didn't look unlike the midwestern landscape. One main difference, I think, is that there are just wild fields in England--unruly hedgerows and weedy looking areas that are just charming in their own way.

I woke up in the middle of my first night back not knowing where I was. "Am I in Cambridge? Durham? London? Where am I?!" I didn't recognize the room. This was probably only a couple of seconds, but it felt like minutes and the confusion was palpable. Finally, it occurred to me that I was in my own room once I started to place the location of the closets, bathroom, and door. So strange.

I know on this trip I wrote a lot about my eyes welling up--every day, multiple times a day. The reasons run the gambit of why I was so emotional. I was overwhelmed with gratitude that I was able to be there, disbelief that I actually was, and pride that I had done it. I was feeling more connected to those who came before me and, in turn, more connected to myself. I feel as though I am acutely aware of how small I am, so hearing about a place that has been there for 1000 years, a span of time that I can't really fathom, humbles me. I found myself tilting my head towards the sky, closing my eyes, and just breathing the experience in. I was missing my grandma and wishing she was alive to be there with me or be able to share about it with her when I got home. I feel like there are other reasons why I teared up so often that are harder to put into words. Think of doing the thing that you are most passionate about and try to describe how it makes you feel. It's difficult, right? No one but you can understand it, unless that person has the same level of passion about it.

I was reading the book Love Warrior by Glennon Doyle while I was there, but finished it when I got home. (Great book--you should read it if you haven't.) There is a quote towards the end that really resonated with me and perhaps best pinpoints why my emotions were running wild on this trip and in my life, in general, these days.
When asked why she cries so much, she said, "for the same reason I laugh so often--because I'm paying attention."
And that concludes my reflections on the trip. However, I do want to leave you with Shia Labeouf, trying to talk you into following your dreams.