Day 148, 3 June: The End

Sacramento, California, US, Day 148. The End

Leaving London

Me and Charlie

As the last gesture of friendship, Charlie woke up early and joined me in the car as his dad drove me to the nearest Piccadilly Tube station. I was so grateful for Charlie and his dad, and his mom yesterday, and all that they had done for me while I was in London for the last time on this 5-month journey. I said thanks and waved good-bye, feeling the weight of my bags in my shoulders and arms but feeling the greater weight of sorrow that I was leaving. I was leaving all this that I had lived in since January: the thrill of adventure abroad, the fun and the friendships along the way, and the time of my life in many ways.

      I stepped down into the station and flashed my Oyster card. The green light appeared. I went through. Twenty plus stops and a bunch of pages of Lord of the Rings’ Two Towers later, I was at Terminal 3, Heathrow Airport. Bag check-in always comes with the ominous-and-made-more-ominous-by-the-friendly-façade of the official asking me why I was here in England, how long, etc. It made me shudder inwardly, but I was finally cleared, my two bags placed in check-in, and my next stop at security. This was easier to go through, after the laptop was out of the case, the belt off, the boots off, and all the rest, but I made it. After an hour, the gate number flashed on the departures screen and I was off and within the hour on board the American Airlines flight to Los Angeles, California.

      On the plane, the food was just enough. I had to embrace the disgusting butter to eat all the calories I could of the limited food I was given and not feel hungry. Both guys next to me spoke English as a second language and if I wasn’t so confused, I would’ve found it amusing when one of them pointed to my then unused headphones and said ‘headphones’. I said ‘yes’ and then saw him take it and use it, realizing that he had meant to use them. Oh well, I didn’t mind.

      Most of my waking time was spent finishing the Two Towers and starting The Return of the King, but I tried much of the time to sleep. Very little I got, and only through the use of an Advil P.M. The seats were stiff.

      I landed in LAX, the Los Angeles airport, and customs did not make it easy for me. I had forgotten to eat an apple, but at the time I completed the Customs form, I didn’t think to declare it. Well I should’ve, but luckily the officer let me off, dropping the perfectly good apple into the trash bin in the process. I walked off, relieved nonetheless.

     My second flight was an hour, LA to Sacramento. The cries of the baby next to me had to compete with Ben Howard playing in my ears. Then finally I was home.

      On the first plane I had woken up at one point and got to thinking of my whole experience abroad as what I had come for, adventure, friendship, travel, even academics (UC Berkeley does that to you, wherever you go), and felt sad to think that it was now a daydream, a long-reaching, multi-faceted, complex narrative, or memory. In Sacramento airport, I felt oddly dropped from the sky into a place so familiar, refreshing, but a little strange too—I converted what I thought a 9-dollar sandwich would be into pounds, I thought of 20s instead of 60s and 70s in temperature, and I heard the wider vowel sounds of the American tongue more as one from the outside looking in. I had been detached long enough that there was a bit of adjustment.

Home

      I saw the familiar Subaru car outside the airport, hugged my mom and dad, rode on the familiar highway, and saw our house in which not a detail was out of place from how it was before I left. Except for the Mini Cooper in the garage, my mom’s new car. Once in the house, the laundry room was one of my first locations, the second being my bedroom where my cat Rex visited within a half-hour of my arrival. My brother Johnathan said hi when he came home. In an hour, my family went out to Mexican.

      In the next hour, I saw another mini cooper drive up to my house. I ran to the car as the door opened. Katya was in my arms.

      A week with her went by, romantically, refreshingly, humourously, lovely, wonderfully, and here I am typing the belated entries up on a Sunday after I came home. I cannot tell you how odd it feels to finish this blog, after all that has happened, all that I’ve seen, all that I’ve done, all that I’ve met. So ends the final chapter of my journey, save for the last few words, of a daily blog that feels like a book.

      To my flatmates who have read this so often, to my international and UEA friends, to my family back home, to Katya, and to everyone else, thank you for reading and best of luck to all of you and that your journey, whatever it may be, may be thrilling and fun and always one to remember.

The End…

But as a friend once told me, the adventure…never ends.

Day 147, 2 June: The Final Day, Part II: Living in London

Hackney, London, England, Day 147. The Final Day, Part II: Living in London

Charlie in Front of his Secondary School, Stoke Newington School

The drive was nice—I felt as I would back home, leaving university after the term’s end by car, all to return home. But with a twist: the cars going past were on the right side of the road and the road was not I-80 East—it was London Road. Charlie and I both fell asleep and woke up in Hackney, the northern part of London he and his family lives in. The exotic element to his neighbourhood were the orthodox Jews, clad in formal black attire and tall, cylindrical, black hats, walking the streets. It was Saturday, the Sabbath, and Jews cannot drive or do any work on the Sabbath.

FILM 'LIBRARY'

      We parked near the house and brought my three bags and the boxes of Charlie’s things into the first London house I had ever set foot in. It was nice. There were technically six different heights to the house, the basement, the kitchen, three steps (not literally but relatively) up to the living room and the foyer, ten steps up to Charlie’s brother’s former room and a bathroom, ten steps up to Charlie’s room, his parents’ room, and another bathroom, and another ten steps to the office room (or as I’d like to call it, the film library!). His dad greeted me and soon after all the luggage was indoors, Charlie gave me the tour of the house. The film library on the top floor was the highlight: DVDs upon DVDs stacked from floor to ceiling and apparently there were other stacks behind the ones I saw. Charlie denies this as a film ‘library’ but I have no better word to describe it. It was incredible. And justified. Charlie’s dad and mom are both film critics, receiving movies in the mail quite frequently. Charlie’s room was fun too. On one wall he held pictures of stops in his area, another had pins and buttons, and above his bed was a bookshelf—he had the Harry Potter books but with covers more appropriate to the children’s books that they are than the American book covers (more mysterious, darker, etc.).

      At his suggestion, we set off to roam his neighbourhood on bikes. We passed through a park and memories of biking through Amsterdam and Rome streamed through me. Now, a third city, London, is another I’ve biked in abroad. There is always a nice liberating feeling to biking in a new place; the excitement of new scenery blends in with the thrill of the wind and the speed of the pedal. Charlie showed me his secondary (middle and high school) and primary (elementary) schools, along with the row of shops and restaurants near the park. I got a picture of me in front of Spence’s Bakery. We made it back much the way we had come and arrived back at his house just in time for dinner, Indian take-away. Plates in one hand, beer in the other, we sat on the couch and watched the latter half of the American movie ‘Bad Teacher’. It dawned on me in a new light how the British know so much of American culture and terminology. The mainstay of modern cinema comes from Hollywood and the American idiosyncrasies manifest on screen.

      After the movie, Charlie and I headed up and hung out for a bit before calling it a night. I felt so glad that I could spend my last night at a friend’s house instead of in the cold, stiff chairs of Heathrow Airport in the dead hours of night. That had been my original plan too. I owed it to Charlie that I had a bed to sleep in, a dinner that night that wasn’t a cold airport sandwich, and a glimpse into living in London.

                                         

Day 147, 2 June: The Final Day, Part I: UEA Good-Byes

Norfolk Terrace, UEA, Norwich, England, Day 147. The Final Day, Part I: UEA Good-Byes

Charity Event in the Square: Pimp My Wheelbarrow

On my last day at the University of East Anglia, it began with the first of the good-byes. I saw Jen crying in the corridor, her room being emptied, and a large group of the flat hovering around the activity, not wanting to miss her leaving. Steff arrived, helping to carry Jen’s stuff to the van with Jen’s dad. The three of them were finished by ten, and through it all, our small flat group remained in the corridor. Gemma, Alvin, Charlie, Vinnie, Marie, Dan, and I. We were there to hug and say good-bye to Jen—and Steff, who also left that morning for Wales too. Once outside the flat, we waved at the back of the van carrying Jen, her dad, and Steff. Charlie asked, ‘Is there going to be a cheeky wave out the window?’ A final wave? I hoped for it, but the more feet the van drove I was sure I had to be satisfied without it. Then in an instant, Jen’s head slightly leaned out the window and her hand waved back at us. I was glad. We all waved back.

      For the next few hours, I let myself work out, doing abs and running off last night’s fun, and take on the final stages of packing. At the risk of sounding paranoid, I already had done a prep run of packing all my clothes away. That worked all right with my parents-bought-this-for-me-in-London messenger bag and the huge green bag that both Charlie and Marie—and Charlie’s mom—told me at different times was bigger than me. I hadn’t anticipated closet coats. As far as my Jansport backpack went, all my appliances, laptop and books/papers fit, but overall some things I left behind. Adaptors, a pair of Converse shoes, a pair of jeans, orange rain coat, pens, loads of cheap Primark white shirts, etc. I moved onto my kitchen supplies and eventually put all my unwanted items either into my kitchen cupboard or in a charity bag. After my last shower in the flat, I heard Irish Laura in the hallway and ran out (yes, clothed) to say bye.

Joe and I

      Amid all this packing and flat activity, I stopped at the Square on UEA’s main part of campus for a special annual charity event: Pimp My Wheelbarrow. I found my flatmates perched up near the Travel Store, overlooking the costumed groups upon groups arriving into the Square. Every group centred around one theme and one wheelbarrow. From Scooby-Doo’s Mystery Machine to Willy Wonka to Lord of the Rings, so many costumes and cardboard-enhanced wheelbarrows animated the square with colourful confetti. One orange-faced, green-wigged Oompa Loompa approached me—Joe! I got a picture with him and said a first good-bye—I saw him later by his group’s wheelbarrow, with Vinnie dressed as the fat kid in Willy Wonka and Sean (Day 7) as Mr. Willy Wonka himself. Joe, apart from his unique accent (as I hear it), is also one of the funniest guys I travelled with and knew abroad—his take-no-bull attitude mixes in with a light-hearted love of life that does him well. I will miss him.

Vinnie and Sean

      I saw Vinnie too and realized that this was good-bye. He had been a good roommate, his quiet entrances into the room after I was asleep to his polite questions of whether he could listen to music without headphones. If he reads this, I want him to know that I wish him the best back at school and best of luck in the future.

The Fellowship

      I stopped by the Lord of the Rings wheelbarrow as well, seeing my friends Helen as Legolas, Liam as Aragon, Sophie as the Elf Queen, Kate as Frodo…and when I pointed out that the Ring looked very much like a bracelet, Stef said, ‘Yeah, it looks a lot like my bracelet…wait!’ Laughter ensued, as I sadly realized this was the last time I’d be seeing them. I said farewell to them and Helen exclaimed, ‘No, Spencer! What are you doing? Leaving us!? THIS is the breaking of the Fellowship!’ Thus the good-byes were amid costumed fun and laughter. And that was one of the things that helped make the good-byes more about the fun that was than the loss.

My Empty Side of the Room

      I said good-bye to Marika and Alex above the Square. It had been nice to hang out with them this past week seeing as others were departing left and right before I knew it. They both had another week, or half, left in Norwich.

      I headed back to the flat to finish cleaning and placed all my leftover cutlery and food and items in my kitchen cupboard with a post-it note: ‘Formerly Spencer’s—FREE STUFF!’ Finally Charlie came for my stuff—I was leaving for London with Charlie and his mom—and I headed out to his mom’s car, meeting his mom and successfully fitting my stuff into the car. Remaining in my hand was the Rubik’s Snake/Twist, which Alvin asked to complete one last time. Early in the semester (Day 20), he had set the flat record for it at 33.34 seconds. Months later, he completed the Twist (from line to ball) in 5 seconds. I watched it with my own eyes, incredulous until it was done.

Alvin, Dan, Gemma, Marie, Matt

      The flat good-bye was fast but memorable: I saw them there, giving up part of their afternoons to see Charlie and me off, and I felt a surge of good-will, of the close-knit community that our flat had, through and through. There was Alvin, always game to play, party, and talk in-between his intense study hours as a medic; there was Dan, nicknamed ‘Mother Hen’ for his protective nature of us during nights out, but also generous in letting me borrow his acoustic guitar so often that I felt like I had my own guitar in England and a constant presence in the kitchen, him and Jen; there was Gemma, company in the kitchen and like Alvin, balancing social with study life; there was Marie, always excited to see me and hug me and animate the kitchen with her fun, happy self; there was Matt, always starting conversation in the kitchen from recent news to his trials and enthusiasm in his medic studies. And then there were me and Charlie, waving good-bye to them from the car and so glad to have known them. In the moment I took the picture (shown here), I realized as I had when I looked at the last flat dinner picture that I’ve really loved being  here with these friends, with a flat that got along with each other. Friendships can happen anywhere at any time, and I’m very glad they happened here, at UEA, in Norwich, in England. 

                        

Day 146, 1 June: Waves and the Last Games

Norfolk Terrace, UEA, Norwich, England, Day 146. Waves and the Last Games

Stef (with her fading highlighter), Me, and Collins

In the air, on Facebook news feed, everywhere, I felt the change was almost tangible: the summer month of June had arrived. June 1^st. I spent the morning writing letters and blogging until noon. This was my last full day at UEA, beginning the onset of the waves and seas of good-byes. Stephen, my flatmate, stopped by my room in the early afternoon and said good-bye. I hadn’t seen him around the flat in the last month too much, but all the same, he brought something to the dynamics and personality of the flat. My next stop was the library, visiting Stef and James Collins in the single-desk carrels, busy studying/ freaking out for their Shakespeare exam. It was good to see them, hearing Stef’s light-hearted agony over her fading highlighter and Collins’ holiday he took before this week. After the picture (shown here), I waved and headed out of the library, returning to the flat.

      I put on a small free-for-all in my room: anything on the desk was game. Dan and Charlie were the first on the scene, Charlie ending up with a nice jumper I never wore (and he wore it for the night out, which made me sure that it was in better hands now). Irish Laura and Gemma later came in, for books and other items. Alvin took the last of the nice pens that everyone seemed to like. It felt good to give away things, especially to my flatmates who had welcomed me and Vinnie into the flat midway through the year. Dan was generous enough to let me use his guitar this semester; Charlie offered to let me ride with him to London tomorrow; Irish Laura cleared up a piano room swipe card issue for me; Marie and Jen extended me the opportunity to walk around the lake with them (and go otter-spotting); and there are so many more examples of my flatmates’ kindness.

                                    
       Excitement soared when I heard about a USA Special meal deal with Charlie, Dan, Alvin, Vinnie, and Steve (Marie’s new boyfriend). We finally ordered around 5, getting with each £20 order two pizzas of any topping, a 2-L coke, garlic bread, slice of chocolate cake, and chips. Once it came, the kitchen table was checkered with cardboard pizza boxes and garlic bread boxes—and layered with plastic containers with chocolate cake and chips (that is, French fries). 

The Final Game of Yaniv

      Soon the final Yaniv card game began. Steff joined in for a bit, and Steve played too, helped by his good luck charm Marie. The game was set to last ‘til 100 points, but then we upped it to 150. Alvin outdid everyone with a score of 69, with Vinnie doing pretty well for himself with a score of 75—everyone else got into the three digits. It’s hard to explain the scoring for this game, but essentially if your result for one round brings your accumulated score to a multiple of 25, you go down 25 points (i.e. you have 33 before the fourth round; by the end of the round/when someone calls ‘Yaniv’ (cards having to be at or below 5), your cards might be something like a joker (0 points), King (10 points [for all face cards]), an ace (1 point) and a six. Your new score brings you to 50, which then goes down to 25. Viola).

      Then it was the final pregaming—more card games but involving enchantments. Charlie played the music from his room at first, the group of us (Marie, Laura, Gemma, Jen, Charlie, Alvin, Dan, Vinnie, and I) first started out in the corridor and then moved to the kitchen table. A new game was played: Minority. The players begin by saying two things: Ben Howard or Justin Bieber, for instance. It’s all about choosing one. Everyone begins shaking one hand side-to-side (like the gesture for ‘so-so’), making a sharp sound that crescendos to a ‘nah!’. At this point the players have thumbs up or thumbs down, up supporting the first thing said (Ben Howard) and down for the second (Justin Bieber). In this case, everyone but let’s say one loser has thumbs up. That one Beiber fan has to partake in spirited consumption. And so on.

      Next the night brought all of us out to Carnival, where I ran into Vito for the last time. I was glad I could say good-bye, a fellow European traveller of mine during April and May. Those trips were some of the best. He mentioned how his own farewell was going to be bitter, leaving after residing there for a year and all. Soon all of the group, listed above, headed to Prince of Wales, where we entered some free-entry places. As Charlie put it later, ‘They both sucked, but we had a good time anyway.’

      Back at the flat at 3:30am, there was a final walk around the lake and sleeping in the hall (a few, Vinnie, Dan, and Jen, brought out their mattresses and slept there), but I couldn’t stay awake for any of it. I dropped into my bed and sleep simultaneously.

Our Last Night Out

                                

Day 145, 31 May: The Final Flat Dinner

Norfolk Terrace, UEA, Norwich, Day 145. The Final Flat Dinner

Today the final flat dinner was served. The kitchen held the entire flat, except for Wilson, tonight. For Charlie, it even reminded him of the Christmas dinner, which made me happy to know that the Christmas picture of the flat I’ve seen time and again on the kitchen wall finally had a repeat. Since the morning, Jen had prepared the pastas and sauces; since early evening, Dan had prepared the meats; Vinnie worked with Charlie on cleaning out the dirty boxes of neglected dishes and cutlery; Laura cleaned off the kitchen table surface; Charlie, Jen, and I put on the tablecloth; Jen and Steff teamed up for the salad and dressing; Dan counted off the mini-sausage rolls and drumstick for the plates, and so much more happened up to the hour we all sat down, passing plates around to complete our meal with salad and slices of microwaved quiche.

      Matt took the timed picture and saved the moment. Then we ate. There we all were, Matt, Ryan, Laura, Dan, Jen, Steff (honorary flatmate), Vinnie, Charlie, Marie, Laura, Gemma, Alvin, Stephen, and me. The only one missing was Wilson/Gum Gum, back in Hong Kong for the summer.

      Charlie began the conversation: Who was the funniest? The most generous? The most in the kitchen? The best Yaniv card player? The one who made the biggest cooking disaster? And so many more questions were tossed around, and with the answers came stories. How Jen loved the snow, how someone burnt a pizza to a crisp, how Laura lost her Irish accent, how funny some nights turned out. And so on.

      It felt so good to see the kitchen full, perhaps for the last time, and the way we helped each other get to foods across the table, the way we took turns doing the dishes, it all made for a good memory of how we all can get along. After dinner was a break before dessert—many of us went on a group walk around the UEA Broad (not a lake exactly) and took many pictures while plucking this certain ‘sticky plant’ from the ground and lightly placing it on each other’s backs. Upon returning to the kitchen, we had dessert: vanilla ice cream, cake, and fruit salad.

      As far as the rest of the day went, I went for a slow 50-minute run—feeling a nice runner’s high afterwards—and I did a preliminary pack to see if everything can fit (success!) and I skyped Katya. The middle of the day was burdened with rain, so most of the day was indoors.

      There was a great vibe to the last flat meal together and I will miss everyone, the quirks and the fun. It has been a great semester with these friends and they have in large part made this UEA experience for me really, really incredible. 

Day 144, 30 May: Special Entry: The Untold Stories

Norfolk Terrace, UEA, Norwich, Day 144. Special Entry: The Untold Stories

I believe the time has come. Months ago, I started a post-it note list of untold stories during my time abroad. There are a mere handful of them, and none of them are horrendous. At the time that each story occurred, though, I was either scared out of my wits, confused, or amused, or a mix of those and other emotions. There is no rhyme or reason for why they weren’t told, except for maybe remembering some of them days later. Here they are: The Untold Stories.

I.      Catastrophe at Zest

In the third week abroad, I was at Zest, the diner on campus. I finished my plate of assorted meat and veggies and my salad bowl and proceeded up to the conveyor belt where the grey trays were placed. The conveyor belt has three vertical levels of metal compartments, each able to fit one tray. The belt moves endlessly around in a circle.

The Square--Zest is on the right with the lights on.

      I saw from afar every compartment filled with stacked dishes that night, but something struck my eye: a fork, of all things, too far out of a bowl, barely brushing against the wall. The next rotation, though, the fork struck the wall again and its bowl jutted closer and closer to the edge. I saw it before it happened. Putting my tray in one hand, I reached out and tried to save the bowl from falling. It was jammed. I thrust it out, saving the bowl, only to see my plate slide off my tray in the other hand. Porcelain fireworks spanned the floor around me. In the second of witnessing this, my tray again tilted and the bowl crashed to the other side of me. I looked up to a room of people in hushed silence, all eyes watching me.

      Luckily, the manager came round the corner and broke the tension. I wasn’t responsible for the damages—she understood the congestion around the conveyor belt, I assumed. At that, I quickly made my exit.

II.     Trapped

The next story takes place on Monday, the 13^th of February (Day 37). It was a night I went to UEA Choir rehearsal and as I generally did, I headed off to play in the practice rooms afterwards. The rehearsal went to 9:30 like usual and soon after, I lost track of time playing piano. It was around 11 when I called it a night and decided to leave. I pressed the handicap button, which are strangely used by and large by most people around campus, and the first door opened. Then there is the outer door. I pushed. It wouldn’t budge. I pulled. Nothing. It was locked.

      Frantically, I shook the door as if this would help, but I knew it was futile. I was trapped in the Music Hall. I had thoughts of how I would have to spend the night here, maybe try to sleep on the carpet. I looked down the corridor to what hopefully looked like another exit. It was an emergency one and looked like it had an alarm. I traced my steps back to the front and looked around. To my left was another door labelled ‘emergency exit’ with an arrow. I thought I heard the faintest sound of a band playing in a backroom somewhere. Biting my lip, I went up to the door and entered.

      There was a dark corridor before me, but the sound of the band was louder now. I inched my way straight through and found myself at a door with a dim street light showing through from the other side. I heard the band beside another door, so maybe this was their exit. But it was an emergency one. Oh no, it’s not budging, and what if there’s an alarm and what if I’m stuck here all night and—

      It opened. I let go of my anxious breath and walked out into the night air.

III.    The Carnival Kiss

There is a small club in town named Carnival. I was there with a group of my flatmates on Friday, the 10^th of February, and the air had a ring of holiday love—er, maybe ring isn’t the right word. I’ll settle with ‘subwoofer’. This was the weekend to celebrate Valentine’s Day.

      A girl in a cardboard box came up to me and explained that she was doing a fundraiser for charity, asking for a pound donation and then allowing the donor to kiss her. She asked me and I shook my head, smiling. It came to the point where I explained that I had a girlfriend back home and so I couldn’t. She said, ‘How about the cheek?’ I still shook my head, but I held out my hand to give a donation anyway. But she wouldn’t accept it.

      ‘How about my hand?’ Suddenly I felt like a medieval knight paying respects to a lady of a castle, or in this case one made of cardboard, and I accepted. Her friend and cardboard girl thanked me and went on their way.

IV.   Getting Nowhere Closer to the Arch

It was Day 83, March 30^th, the second night Katya and I were in Paris. Today we had done so much already, from Luxembourg Gardens to the Louvre, but we wanted to visit one more thing: the Arc de Triomphe.

      We set out from the Avenue des Champs-Elyéese and made it to the street just before the arch. The yellow lights made the already majestic arch live up to its victorious title, as it stood utterly beautiful against the black sky. We wanted to get closer. There was just one problem: there seemed to be no crosswalk. Cars upon cars zoomed onto the circular street surrounding the arch.

      We concluded that maybe we just had to walk around to the next street over from Champs-Elyéese Avenue. Maybe there was a walkway there. Nope. We tried the next. Nope. Let’s try for the next!

      ‘Hey, isn’t this familiar?’ Katya asked.

      ‘Um, yes.’ I was confused. We were right back where we started. Then it dawned on me. ‘Wait…we’ve been walking in a big circle!’

      ‘Well, it is a roundabout!’

      We laughed and found an English-speaking person to tell us where to go. The walkway was underground. Oh…that made so much sense.

V.    Jumped

This one happened relatively recently. It starts with the explosive sound of the bedroom door opening and the whispers of Vinnie and a student (friend of another flatmate). I was straddling the line between dream and reality at this point, somehow stuck in this Harry Potter alleyway past midnight while hearing that the student was looking for a place to sleep that night, not liking the floor idea.

      The alleyway lit up and the voices stopped. I heard a shuffle of feet. Who was in the alley?

      Then I felt something next to me, a body, jump onto my bed, back first. The shock left me gasping for breath. The alleyway was on its way out of my mind and I was awake.

      ‘You…scared…the hell out of me,’ I managed. I heard a giggle and frowned. In another moment, the girl left for the hallway and I started to breathe normally again. It took another fifteen minutes, but I finally found refuge in dreams once more.

That concludes the list of untold stories. I hope you enjoyed them. As for today, it was a blank—mostly cleaning and purging my room of the too much stuff I have to bring back. I’ll hopefully find a way. The highlights were the lunch with Sierra, Emily N, Emily H, Marika, and Alex (a last hurrah) and my run—I  went out and managed to get to the Railway Station in the city centre in just under 30 minutes. And after all those times of taking 40-minute bus rides. Gah. Traffic on those narrow streets really does take its toll. I made it back at the same pace, squaring the run off at an hour and 26 seconds. I don’t why I feel like being exact, but it feels good. I was in a good mood the rest of the evening. Oh, Charlie also returned to the flat, another good thing to the day.

Marika, Me, Alex, Emily N, Sierra, Emily H

Day 143, 29 May: City Centre and Stay-In Skype Day

Norfolk Terrace, UEA, Norwich, Day 143. City Centre and Stay-In Skype Day

We had what should be called ‘the Pathetic Picnic’ this morning. Stef, Helen, Dave, Liam, Kurt, Me, and another guy whose name I’m blanking on. Good bloke, though. Dave brought out a loaf of bread. That was our shared sustenance (Stef used up the last of the peanut butter…and so the rest of us just ate the bread…plain), while a few of us drank pineapple juice. I parted from the group and headed just the extra bit it takes to get into the city centre, through Upper St. Giles Street and found myself at a guitar store. Yesterday, I leaned the guitar against my desk and snap! The high E string exploded in its tension and it was no longer stringed. I bought a new E string today, then a sandwich and mince meat, and sat looking over the city centre from the benches near the City Hall steps.

      I have to be honest. I really miss home. The activity day in and day out is pleasant in its simplicity, its absence of stress and deadlines, but there is also a greater drive to be back after being gone for longer than I’ve ever been gone. 143 days. On the other hand, it’s hard to believe I will be here…for only four more nights, including this one. I’m at the point where I’m ready to go home, but also I know that I will really miss Norwich, UEA, and the people at UEA.

      Today I saw Alvin in proper attire from placement (that is, basically work experience/internship provided through the school), tired after essentially a work day (9-5 or 6pm) and entering the kitchen to eat. Dan cooked up a rad chick pea, chicken, and onion curry with boiling rice. Gemma took breaks from revision in the kitchen. So did Jen. Vinnie was out and about playing Frisbee (most likely Ultimate) with other flats just outside on the lawn between Suffolk and Norfolk Terraces, and his team won. Marie came into the kitchen with her best friend from home, Sarah. Marika and Alex (from Day 41…more than 100 days ago…unbelievable) brought over two frozen pizzas and we shared them. Alex is finally done with finals, I mean, examinations—had one the first day of exams in the final days of April…and one today. UEA has a really long exam period, 5 weeks. Back on kitchen news, James from the neighbour flat stopped by with a shirt for Vinnie for the night, striped shirt with red and white lines. Yep, that’s the theme for the LCR tonight. ‘Where’s Waldo’ (but as he is called in Britain, ‘Wally’, not Waldo) and Smurfs—so random.

      I got a chance to make this a Sunday Skype day as well. I skyped Katya on the spur of the moment, well spur of a 15-minute moment, and we got in quality time. I also saw my parents and my brother too. On skype. In the months I’ve been gone (but not because of it), my brother picked up poi, a fun activity that can be described as…okay, using Wikipedia: ‘as a performance art, poi involves swinging tethered weights through a variety of rhythmical and geometric patterns’. I’m excited to see what it’s like. We both heard about it one 4^th of July in a small former mining town in Trinity County.

      I ended the day with episode after episode of How I Met Your Mother: Season 7. So. Good.