Blimey, that lift is a bit dodgy.

I’d like to say that the large time gap I’ve given myself to write this since I left has been deliberate, but I’d be lying. In all honesty, I’ve been avoiding this post like the plague, but I’m realizing that it was probably for the best that I didn’t attempt a retrospective post immediately.

I left London feeling confused and a little empty. I was a different person in London. True, we are always learning and growing, but my environmental changes magnified that, and I left feeling like I both had learned and lost a little bit of myself. I came home and just wanted to be alone, sort through myself. It was an incredibly odd sensation.

But mostly, I felt my conscious straining under the multitude of things I didn’t do. I was plagued by regret. I let it under my skin for far too long.

It wasn’t until a few weeks into my break that I gained some perspective and realized that, while there were reasonably some things I didn’t do yet had time for, there will always be millions of other things I didn’t have time for, and I can’t dwell on that. Because I lost sight of all the amazing things I DID do, and those need not be upstaged by memories unlived.

Part of my problem comes from constantly comparing myself to others, and what they’re doing, but I can’t live both my life and all of theirs. With this bout of perspective, I also realized that the life I lived this past fall was an amazing orchestra of London immersion and self realization. I reached out, completely alone, to a frisbee team belonging to an entirely British university. So fine, I did cling to the other Americans on the team, but that’s natural, and I might not have stuck with it were it not for their wonderful taste of home.

I lived more independently than I ever have. Devoid of preexisting relationships, an overbearing class/frisbee schedule, and a meal plan, I spent a lot of time with myself. I’ve learned about some things I like and need, and some things I think I want but really shouldn’t give in to. I became more self aware and assertive, and because of that, the acceptance of others felt more genuine and real. I stopped making excuses and gave harshly real answers. I confronted who am I in the context of the world, my surroundings, my peers, and I embraced it rather than trying to mold it.

Oh, but what about London, Julia?
London was a disappointment, and I’m finally not afraid to say it. The culture didn’t challenge my core like it had hoped, but my situation did, so that was ultimately enough. I enjoyed the city, but I missed New York a lot. The constantly cloudy weather was sort of a downer, and my unfamiliarity with the neighborhoods was both exhilarating and annoying. It is fun to explore new places, but it’s more fun when there are safety nets to discourage anxiety. I’m glad I went. I’m even more glad I got to travel to Spain and France and Italy. But I’m most glad to be headed back to NYC, to live with my friends, to play frisbee, to place myself in an environment and context that I now understand is exactly what I need.

Perspective.

Always. No matter if it’s a coach, a trainer, an athlete, a student…this is always always always different.

They’re the same thing.

Craziness. Retrospective post to follow.

#firstworldproblems

In London.
For free (thanks NYU).

My life is amazing.

To be honest, before I came to NYU I made almost no connections with Florence. Didn’t know where exactly it was in Italy, or why it’s significant. In fact, I never considered the place much at all before some friends went to study abroad there last Spring. I didn’t have a clue as to what one should see or do during a visit; so one of the first things I asked upon arrival is “What is Florence known for?”

It’s where some great people came to think, came to create, came to be inspired. It’s “the birthplace of the Renaissance,” the home of many movers and shakers.

It wasn’t until I was flying home that I realized Florence had touched me in the exact same way. Veronica (an old friend from home) and I spent hours upon hours thinking, talking, discussing. We dissected the complexities of the seemingly conventional: money, food, marriage, …everything. We exhausted all we could offer in terms of facts and feelings. Questioned perspectives, gained perspectives. Shared and attempted to confirm our new knowledge of money, the eurozone, globalization, and the economy, now that we are more global citizens, and thus directly affected. We laughed and awed at the inaccuracy and accuracy of horoscopes. Spoke of family, home, comfort…Maryland and New York. We drank, we ate great food, and lived the Florence culture.

This wasn’t a trip about sight seeing, and it became a trip about discovery. A trip spent thinking. It was refreshing, a real vacation. Devoid of the stress of attempting to fit Florence into a weekend, because by now I understand that no matter what, the more I see here in Europe, the more I’ll want to see, and I simply can’t do it all. So relax. Enjoy. Immerse.

The streets were entirely comprised of cobble stones, and cars were scarce. Sometimes I forgot we were on a road, it was wonderful. It made the city feel even more small and intimate, truly of the people; especially the San Lorenzo street market that we cruised for probably an hour or more. I’m normally skeptical of dense street vendors, but in Italy…the leather is real, the prices are high, and my suspicion was down (maybe ignorantly).

There were more Americans than I expected and the city was smaller than I expected (300,000something in the limits, 1.5M in metro area).

And of course, I ate the most delicious food of my lifetime:



Saw Michelangelo’s David (gorgeous):

Gawked at the beautiful Basilica of Santa Croce:


Not to mention I vulnerably immersed myself in the nightlife including delicious aperitivos. But mostly shopped. Italy’s sense of fashion is inspiring. A pleasure to surround oneself with.

The city felt like a small community, not a dense metropolitan. It was so wonderful, I enjoyed myself more than I can adequately put words to. And it made me yearn to see more of Italy.

OH and I almost forgot! I flew in through Rome and had to go through security again before continuing to Florence. When my boarding pass was checked, the guard said something in Italian, but I didnt understand and said, “Sorry?” He asked me where I was from, and I said America. He said, “Your last name is Italian.” All I could think to do was smile and say “Yeah.”

It’s been unusual discovering all these people in Europe who are 100% their nationality.
America is cool.

Or, America is more religious than Britain.

I don’t have the facts or the numbers to support this, but it has been said by numerous  lecturers to the students of NYU in London. And by a couple of my professors.

They ONLY use ‘tick.’ Like, on our gym lockers you have to “enter a number and then hit the tick.”