In Which I Wear the Worst Shoes for Cross-Atlantic Travel

My first bit of wisdom garnered from my year abroad experience – wear well worn, broken-in shoes for travel. I oh so foolishly decided to wear a new pair of ballet flats that, although comfortable when I tried them on at the store, were a nightmare on my feet. The blisters on my heels are currently doused in Neosporin and band-aids, but still twinge. I am glad to say, though, that my shoe choice was the worst bit of the trip. Everything else went very well, from the lovely 7 hour flight to navigating my way from the airport to the university housing. I believe that part of this is due to my size and 12-year-old-esque face. People are so much more willing to be helpful and kind to children, and I received my fair share of “huns” & “loves”.

The Great Dover Street Apartments is where I will call home for the next 9 months. My room is tiny tiny tiny, and the walls are the most interesting shade of yellow-green, but I’m making do. Least to say, I need to come up with something that will cover the walls. I can only stand mental hospital décor for so long.

My Bathroom


My Room, as viewd from the bed

My Room, as viewed from the doorway

And so, after a little over five weeks of being home, I am officially back in London. It is a weird mixture of comfort and nerves – comfort because the city that I called home for two months this summer still feels like a place I belong, and nerves because this time around everything is different. New people to meet, new areas of London to become acquainted with, and oh yeah, the whole reason I’m over here, a new university to attend!