Week 12 Impressions by Nora Germano

The other day during our weekly group meeting Tom asked us to outline a stage model of our time spent here in London. We got into small groups and talked about how much things have changed since we first arrived here. Our group came up with three stages: the blind tourist stage, the busy commuter stage, and the wanderlust! stage. My favourite stage model, created in part by the always clever Diana, was the marriage metaphor. We began with the Wedding--lots of planning before hand, lots of nervousness, and then the Big Event--the plane ride into London. Next came the honey moon phase, characterised by our first four days in London. For these first four days we were left to our own devices. Having no obligations, we partied every night and spent every day rushing around seeing the various sights. We were in love! Then was marital bliss--we were just settling in, we were getting a sense of the city, and there was still lots to do. Next the lull--the reality of class and classwork, and then our internships.

I think what the ‘busy commuter’ and ‘marital lull’ stages get at is the sense that we are truly living here in London. The touristy period is over. We know the city, are masters of the Tube, and are working nine to five three days a week. Routines have set in, and London has really become home. Alex says this is typified by the fact that we are all really pissed off our favourite grocery store, Sainsbury’s, is closed. We must be locals now.

But is London really home? Our notions of home are complicated by all the shifting identities and situations we’re finding ourselves in as we study abroad. In London, when people ask me where I’m from, I say I’m from California but I go to school in Oregon. California is where I grew up but Portland and Lewis & Clark are home for me as well. In Dublin waiting in the rain in the middle of the night after a ruckus St. Patrick’s Day, Kate and Sasha and I couldn’t wait to get ‘home’, but home that day was our warm beds at my cousin’s house in the Dublin suburb. ‘Make yourselves at home’, my cousins said. We were free to make tea and raid the fridge just like we would at our houses in Oregon, California, Colorado, or Ohio. Coming back from his travels in Germany, Andrew was happy to be ‘home’, which for him was back in our South Kensington converted hotel residence hall. Some of us are even lying about home. Just for fun, one night at a club Lauren and Lauren were Mary Kate and Ashley from Alaska. On the more somber side, Katie and her friend Ally made up stories of ‘home’ to avoid being treated badly while traveling. During spring break in Italy and Spain, home became Canada or London. Describing home as the U.S. risked them being stereotyped and mistreated as 'ugly Americans'.

Spring has come, and that means it’s time to register for classes next year. As we pick out our classes for the fall many of us are also busy planning our housing for next year. Will it be an on-campus apartment or an off-campus house? Where will I be for the summer? Where will home be next year? Will I feel at home when I go back to my parents’ house? Will I feel more at home back at LC? Or will I be so used to London by then that I will want to go back home to my little dorm room at 3-7 Queensgate Terrace? Will I ever actually miss our tiny kitchen? These are all questions that remain to answered (ok, except for the one about the kitchen), but I think one thing is certain. All these shifting identities, experiences, and senses of home are what we wanted from this experience. This is what we signed up for. We’ve gained so much and grown so much.