Today was a particularly nostalgic day in London. After my friends enjoyed an afternoon tea bus tour (which I opted out of last minute because, who am I kidding, we all know buses make me want to vomit), we met back up at our old stomping grounds: Kensington. Normally, a college student wouldn’t be able to afford to live in the ritzy, Royal Borough of Kensington and Chelsea, but due to our dorm’s location, we had the privilege of calling it our home for four months.
So naturally, we had to pay a visit to the mediocre college that brought us all together ten years ago and say a quick thank you for all the memories it bestowed upon us.
Our journey first called for a returning trip to our tube stop, Gloucester Road. Upon arriving, and even after coming up to street level, I still didn’t feel like we were back. But the minute The Gloucester Arms pub came into view, it all came rushing back. We stopped in for a pint, recalling all the times we’d pop in for a drink before heading out for the night, or all the nights we just decided to grab one on our way back to the dorms, too tired to go anywhere or do anything else.
I reminded everyone of one particular noteworthy night, when four of us were in for a drink and gained some young admirers, boys who slipped me their number as the rest of my group waited at the bar for more drinks. Yes, we texted them. Yes, they invited us to another bar nearby. Yes, one of my friends and I decided to go, even though it was clearly not the best idea. Yes, the boys made a comment about how they were “definitely at least 18.” Yes, it was after that comment that we were ready to call it a night. It was one of many ridiculous stories we hold in our memories, one of the numerous ones that made our study abroad trip what it was. It’s part of the reason this trip back after all these years is so meaningful. Recounting all the “remember when’s” and reminding each other of times almost forgotten has been part of what has made this return trip to London so much fun. It was a big deal that I spent four months of my 19th year of my life living in this amazing city. But I digress.
After we enjoyed a beverage at “our” pub, we made the short walk down the street to our old dorm building. It looked exactly the same as I remember it ten years ago. We even paid homage to the terrible trash compactor (whose location seemed to have been moved, perhaps as a result of us throwing a bunch of crap out of our windows at it the last night we were there in revenge for waking us up so many early mornings all semester?), the trash compactor who interrupted so much of our sleep on a regular, 6am basis. Really, why must the trash be compacted at such an early hour? Again I digress.
It was bizarre seeing the school again but not entering as students. So much of our time was spent in that dorm, preparing for nights out on the town, planning long weekends away to visit other countries, pretending to study. It was a special feeling to go back, almost a way to get closure, because I truly don’t know if I’ll ever be back to this wonderful city again. I’d like to hope so, but with so much of the world left to see, I just don’t know that it’s likely.
So in a way, it was good to go back. To say thank you. To reminisce. To say goodbye.
We only have a few short days left until it’s back to the good ole USA, but I intend to make the most of it. Let’s just hope the weather and my stubborn body cooperate for the remainder of the trip!
mind over madness 