on the road: Somewhere over the Atlantic

Farewell Florence Road

Writing on the airplane here from Heathrow to Newark.  I’m five hours, two movies, and one terrible meal into the flight.  We had to sit on the plane for about an hour before takeoff because the flight needed a different captain who was more familiar with the aircraft.  So that’s always reassuring.  I’m just hoping the delay won’t prevent me from making my connection in Newark, especially since I have to get my luggage and go through customs during the layover.  Speaking of luggage, I am absolutely amazed they let me on the plane.  I was definitely pushing the limits on every size and weight constraint possible.  Thank god they don’t weigh carry-on bags, because I put all my shoes, purses, and belts into mine and I’m pretty sure it weighs more than my checked luggage.  Coming over here, I checked two suitcases and carried on my backpack and a large tote that can hardly qualify as a “personal item.”  For the journey back, I bought an enormous £10 duffle so I could make sure to fit in all the coats and sweaters that were mailed to me once I’d arrived.  The backpack was then packed within the duffle, and my smaller suitcase became my carry-on.  I think I’m getting good at this.  Granted, I can’t move an inch without a luggage cart, but that hasn’t been a problem thus far.  This whole week of packing and arguing with myself over what I could bare to leave behind has been tough, but it had to be done.  Thankfully, one of my flatmates had this amazing luggage weighing contraption that allowed me to fill both checked bags to precisely 50.5lbs (they usually let that half pound slide).  Investing in one of these is a must for any traveler.  Gone are the days of weighing myself and then subtracting that from the weight of myself while holding my suitcase and desperately trying not to fall over sideways…probably causing future back problems all the while.  The fact that I’m on my way to the US is too weird.  The week after Italy was bittersweet and full of goodbyes.  A few of my friends left before me, while others are staying till the end of the summer or even till the end of their degrees.  I’m happy I left somewhere in the middle.  That way I don’t have to stay and endure the unending sequence of goodbye gatherings.  I’m not good at goodbyes, but I’m excellent at see ya later’s, which is the most I could hope for anyways.  I spent my last day in Brighton walking around and getting a good last look.  I turned in my house keys and walked out on the pier, refusing to leave before riding “The Booster”, AKA- the scariest ride on Brighton’s seafront.  “The Booster” whips you up into the sky in great giant circles, while your own chair simultaneously flips around and around in smaller, yet doubly dizzying loops.  After all, upside down is the only appropriate way to get that perfect final view of the city and sea.  The day ended with a single English pint at our neighborhood pub.  And That was That.  I had previously warned my friends not to be pissed off if I didn’t cry when I left, given that I’m generally not very sentimental about goodbyes.   But I swear to them now that there was at least one tear (or maybe just watery eyes) while the bus pulled out of Brighton this morning, and I can’t believe I won’t be seeing them tomorrow, or the next day.  But don’t think I’m gonna forget about our scheduled 2010 reunion in Mexico, that is unless Andrea’s wedding comes first!

Now the question of whether or not this is my last blog post:  I’ll probably do a follow-up post or two, but I’m not sure about after that.  I’ve gotten lots of encouraging words to keep it up, but I’m afraid my post-study abroad life would put people to sleep.  After all, it was intended as a travel blog.  I guess I’ll wait and see if the mood strikes, or maybe I’ll make a new one.  Regardless, I can’t emphasize enough how much I’ve enjoyed writing about my experience, and I want to thank everyone for keeping up with me through this long journey.

Signing out,
Sarah

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