By Alexandra Salerno
Advisory Editor
I’ve lived in London for five months, but I’ll call it home forever. In a perfect world, I would blend the best parts of my London home with my Bonaventure home and my hometown in Pennsylvania.
I’m already dreading the pain of missing England in a few weeks. London has been a city full of adventure, and I know it’s something I’ll ache for once I’m stateside again. I’ll miss anything and everything.
I’ll miss the thrill of crossing off a feat from my “London Bucket List.” It’s funny how that random to-do list scrawled on a piece of purple card stock during my first night of orientation quickly became one of my most important possessions.
I will miss warm days walking along the Kingston High Street window-shopping and occasionally actually shopping before wandering up the to riverside to eat ice cream. I’ll miss dreary evenings sitting in my attic bedroom doing homework and listening to raindrops beat down on the roof.
As the Brits like to say, “There is no such thing as bad weather, only unsuitable clothing.” I’ll miss their unfailing sense of humor.
I’ll miss planning a day in central London start to finish while secretly hoping I’ll run into Kate Middleton every time I turn a street corner. I’ll miss navigating the Tube and, despite occasionally mixing up the Piccadilly and Victoria, feeling like a true Londoner once I mastered the underground lines with their corresponding colors.
I’ll miss the street performers in Covent Garden and the wild deer in Richmond Park. I’ll miss the sights and smells of Chinatown and the buzz of energy before shows begin in the West End. I’ll miss wandering through Borough Market tasting free samples of cheese, bread and Turkish Delight. I’ll miss Britain’s fascinating tabloid newspaper industry. I’ll miss feeling blessed to study my subject in a country whose journalism culture is a part of its national identity. I’ll miss booking planes and trains and the allure of the unknown each time I arrive in a new European city.
Most of all, I’ll treasure the memories. These past few months I climbed lion statues in Trafalgar Square, toured the Harry Potter movie set and stood inside Parliament’s House of Lords. I climbed the dome of London’s most famous cathedral, visited Windsor Castle and posed next to the stage of Shakespeare’s Globe Theater. I marveled at paintings in the National Gallery and hunted for bargains and oddities in Camden Lock. I spent late nights at the pub with my newest friends and watched as we each found our regular drink order. (Mine is Pimm’s and lemonade with ample amounts of fruit and a sprig of mint in case you were wondering.)
My time abroad has flown by at a speed I didn’t even know existed. As much as I’m devastated my era as a Londoner is almost over, I simultaneously long for Bonaventure. I love every inch of the 500 acres in the Enchanted Mountains as much as I love the urban London’s 607 square miles.
When you’re living in St. Bonaventure, N.Y., it’s easy to complain about it. We say it’s too small, we say it’s in the middle of nowhere and we complain that there is nothing to do. But it’s because of Bonaventure I had the remarkable chance to study in London in the first place.
I’ve never been prouder to represent the Bona Nation from across the Atlantic, but I’m ready to be reunited with fellow Bonnies for my senior year. The fall ahead brings Bonaventure basketball, pizza orders from Napoli’s, weekends out with my best friends and the return of crazy black squirrels, and I couldn’t be more excited.
