One of the best parts about being back at my Kentucky home is the treasure trove of nostalgia — from baby photos to my college admission essay to the travel journal I kept on my very first trip abroad in 2006. I have no recollection of it, but apparently I kept a little log of my 8 hours in London and 7 days in Italy. I was in college at the time, but my high school Latin teacher was taking a group of students to Italy and invited me to join them since I had expressed interest in the trip years before. Since it was a classics-centric trip, we took advantage of our 8-hour layover in London and hopped on a bus from Gatwick Airport to the British Museum, saw the Elgin Marbles and other classical pieces, then hopped back on the bus to Gatwick to catch our flight to Naples. This is why when we first moved to London and people asked if I had ever been to London before, my answer was “Yes, but only for 8 hours.”
This is the exact journal entry I wrote on June 7, 2006:
I have transcended time. I no longer know whether I’m tired or wide awake. The line grows thinner by the minute.
Things that make London awesome:
-They have the world’s greatest public restrooms (toilets). Full doors, beautifully scented soap and dryers that literally blow your skin off.
-Very few people wear flip flops. Those who do are probably tourists.
Things I don’t like about London:
-Everything is horribly expensive.
-Food is horrible.
Keep in mind that my only real experience of London was Gatwick and the British Museum, but it cracks me up how accurate my assessment was. In 2006 Dyson Airblade and other high-speed hand dryers weren’t mainstream in the US yet, so the ones in Gatwick may have been my first encounter with them. I’m pretty sure my “Things I don’t like about London” section came solely from my experience of lunch at the airport. I bought some ready-made sandwich which probably cost around £6, but in 2006 the exchange rate was closer to 2 to 1 so it would have been close to $12. I can’t remember what kind of sandwich I got, but my American palate was obviously not used to the gloriousness that is the British ready-made sandwich (or I just chose a bad combination). My memory of what we saw at the British Museum is foggy, but I do remember the horrible weight of jet lag, a feeling that has become all too familiar in recent years.
This is one of the few photos I took in London. My 2006 self found the concept of a 99p store (akin to a dollar store) hilarious:
My notes from Italy are sporadic and either way too detailed (one night I had pasta with zucchini, breaded fish with lemon and tiramisu for dinner) or vague inside jokes and bits of conversations I don’t remember having, but I obviously thoroughly enjoyed. However, I did compile this list of Things I Learned:
-It’s impossible to eat Italian bread without crumbs
-There’s no such thing as a line
-All road signs are suggestions
-“They’re Italians, they don’t care”
-Sleep is for the weak
-Peeing is a privilege you sometimes have to pay for
-Pope on a rope and popener (pope can opener)
-80s music is cool (didn’t have to tell me that!)
-Don’t remember street names like the computer Dell. They all start with that. (Via del ….)
“Ciao. I’d like a cheeseburger. Grazie.” is perfect Italian
-There is no such thing as too much walking or too many Roman ruins
-Non appoggiarsi does not mean “we are not sorry”*
-Cities are good, but it’s the people you’re with that make it great.
I think I wrote that last line when I was missing Stephen. At the time we had been dating for less than 6 months. When I threw my coin into the Trevi Fountain, I never dreamed I’d be returning to Rome 5 years later with Stephen and my entire family. Or that 4 years and 4 months after eating that dreadful Gatwick sandwich I’d be living in London and happily living off Tesco sandwich meal deals for a full month. Funny how circumstances change and tempus fugit! (That’s Latin for “time flies”)
* “Non appoggiarsi” was written on the doors of the Roman metro. Google translate tells me it means “do not lean,” which makes sense. For some reason the little group I hung out with on the trip thought “non appoggiarsi” was the funniest Italian phrase and pronounced it “non apologarsi,” like an Italianization of “apologize.” After a glass of wine or two we may have bumped into random Italians on the street or on the metro and declared “non apologarsi!” before erupting into a fit of giggles. I like to think I’ve matured over the past 9 1/2 years, but writing “non apologarsi” still made me chuckle a little.