Since I have been far from comprehensive for some time, I will spend the rest of my spring break making up for it by writing about London and beyond instead of studying for my Poetries of Asia test, because it is frankly more important.
Narration is based on an ex-letter and scattered journal entries over the week.
I overslept when Bailey's brother was picking us up for the DC flight to Canada over Thanksgiving. I missed the taxi when I was rushing to take the Greyhound to Arlington before going home for winter break. Then, I woke up to blinding sunlight on a day when I was to catch a 4.30am cab for my 6.30 flight to London.
I wanted to punch myself in the nose, even after the first icy realization, even after finding a solution after some frantic phone-calls. My cab driver was the real WT deal, bristly with trucker cap, barking "Git off the road! That's what sidewalks are for!" to unfortunate pedestrians, but a gruff angel neverthless. I didn't say much, just laughed at his "Off we go into the waaide blue yonder!" because I was scared as hell.
My new flight had a layover in the DC airport from noon to 9pm, so that's where I hung out in punishing limbo. The above picture shows my Oreo milkshake from Potbelly's, the only place in the terminal that sold something other than fastfood and liquor. It came with two mini-Oreos and a savoury flower-shaped biscuit with a hole in the centre like a doughnut, pushed through the straw, how cute is that? A+ for presentation.
An Indian man on the flight to Frankfurt seems mildy offended by the fact that I study here and speak American. I think he was hoping for something more from a foreign face. I forgot that, on my way out, I no longer needed the college student blanket.
I saw GOF on the plane; it is ferociously re-watchable. I noticed things I hadn't seen the first two times, things normal people would have caught with no trouble, like Ron's Chudley Cannons blanket and one of the twins grossly and uncharacteristically calling "See you later, Ced!"

Life's like an hourglass, glued to the table

My bed in my brother's apartment is a sofa right next to the front door and shoe rack, covered with everyone's coats and hats. So if a mad axeman decided to break in, I'd be the first person he'd bring down. It's deliciously comfortable, though. Also, my dad snores like a creative thunderstorm, so this is greatly preferrable.
My mouth wouldn't stop falling open, fish-like, when I was on the bus on the way into London, Big Ben, cathedral and so huge I wanted to climb out and measure myself against it. But first thing I was put on a bus to Cambridge from the airport. My new dream is to go there - or Oxford - on exchange, but to brave the mighty Oxbridge is no small matter. Oliver Cromwell, C.S. Lewis, W.H. Auden - they were there. Philip Pullman's Jordan is there still. I can dream.

Coach to Cambridge

Huixin waits for my parents to catch up

The first of many very photogenic trees

King's College

Mum at punting place

Cattails

Toothy smiles, punter looking murderous in background


Bridge of Sighs, or where students cross, shaking in their shoes, to collect exam results

Huixin's dorm room comes with a private bathroom with shower, sink, toliet etc. The hall also has a common bathroom with a tub for anyone who just feels like bathing in a bathtub. That's insane, and not college life at all. That, all, is private school all over.
I had dinner with Shuyang at La Tasca, fab Spanish restaurant where we had to wait 45 minutes for our seafood paella, but how comforting to know there is a place where it is an enjoyment to wait quietly for good food, accompanied by easy conversation with an old friend who remembers everything! Shuyang is one of those lucky, serene people who's completely seasoned for overseas study, spending her first semester showing other first-years around and going on an eleven-day Germany tour because it was a dream. She doesn't have her own bathroom, but does have a single big enough for a stellar CD player, two wardrobes, and three friends to sleep over, truth. On food and friends,

Paella!

Huixin cooked for me! How sweet is she?

Shuyang's abode - the incomparably beautiful Newnham College

I am hardly discontented with UVA, of course, but Europe has the tradition and gravity that American turntable talk cannot explain away. I have no idea what that has to do with my prattle about bedroom sizes. Maybe it was how Huixin fried cabbage and chicken in the sunlit kitchen on Monday morning, as opposed to quickie dining halls with take-away options, or the library that, in place of arguing Comm school kids, has every novel ever published in the English language.