Week 8 Impressions by Sarafina Tabrum

Halfway through our London study abroad program, I have already heard the cries, “Don’t talk about going home.” We have adjusted to our British/English/cosmopolitan lifestyle with frequent walks through Hyde Park and tea with milk-chocolate digestive biscuits. We participate in the pub culture and all have learned to enjoy a strong cider or two. Yet, in a blink of an eye, February ended and we began to hear of midterm exams and half-term break.

“So, you are on half-term break next week?” asks my colleague at my internship in Wandsworth Prison.

“Half-term break?”

“Darling, half-term breaks are school holidays. Don’t you know if you are getting one of those?”

Of course, I know the exact dates of spring break and have filled the vacation days with plans for a North African holiday. I’m afraid to say that the dates of our midterms were more foreign to me. In the past two months, I have learned of the wanderlust of the British. The adventurous spirit and perpetual quest for sunshine that compelled them to colonize half the world exists in the function of tourism. Brits are amazing travelers. They host a large number of international tourists and also use the British sterling to build the tourist economies of other countries. While the United Kingdom does not have weather to boast of, they are in close proximity to countries of a more sunny disposition.

Attempting to follow this cultural practice of the Brits, my fellow LC Londoners and I used our spring break/half-term holiday to follow the sun. Unfortunately, some discovered that the first week of March does not always mean sun in Southern Europe. As it were, this particular week yielded snow in Venice, snow in Madrid and icy rain in Rome. Portugal was okay for the most part, but the locals certainly looked strangely at the girls who decided that 65˚F was warm enough for shorts. Early Monday morning after our break, we shuffled into class and discussed the common shortcoming of most trips. “It was cold,” we whined to our professor. He looked at us a bit pityingly and said that most go skiing in France or Austria over the February/March break.

Venturing a bit further than Southern Europe, I spent the week in Fez, Morocco. I found the sun as well as the cold desert night winds. In a true tourist move, my only source of warmth was my black hoodie and several scarves that I bought in the souks of the medina. By day, I sat in the sun in the café terraces and drank hot, sugary mint tea. By night, I went to bed early- there really wasn’t much of a nightlife for the solo woman traveler in this Islamic culture. Instead, I discovered the secrets of the narrow footpaths that turn and wind amongst the stalls and residences. I met the artisans of the markets and saw the craftsmanship in action. I also met up with fellow LC students who were studying Arabic and living in home-stay families. My experience in Morocco illuminated many of my London habits and rituals. I found myself missing Café Momo down the street from Metrogate or craving the company of my London comrades. At one point, I even missed the dry humor of my colleagues at the prison (which I usually just smile and nod to--‘Haha, good one, Michelle’). Rather than miss familiar Portland or even more familiar Ojai, I thought of life back in London. Now, back in our London home away from home, I can frequent the places and talk with the people I dearly missed after just a week away. And I can purposely not think about leaving London in April.