Belgians in London!
UK Return Part 5: Old friends, accessibility and spontaneous tears
We woke up in our youth hostel in Bath, England that morning and had instant coffee in the hostel kitchen. We then navigated the bus route downtown, grabbed a Cafe Nero coffee (paying with spare coins we needed to use up), and then caught the train to London. The train ride was pleasant, and we did some reading along the way. When we got to London, we parted with my parents (they headed to the hotel) and my partner Carp and I took our towering backpacking bags into the packed London subways with no clue how to get where we were going (depending much on luck, wifi, and the kindness of strangers).
A few hours later, and a few failed attempts waiting at incorrect bus stops, we successfully made it to a hotel downtown where my old study abroad friends were staying. They had come to visit us in London from Belgium with their child. Writing about this now makes me emotional, but when I saw them it felt like no time had passed and I was simply grabbing dinner with friends in Kansas City. It was only after we left them that evening that I realized I couldn’t quite identify the feelings I was experiencing (which is rare for me) and I’m still unpacking them.
I reunited with Eva, Loic and their son Noam in the hotel lobby, introducing them to my partner Carp and meeting Noam for the first time. “Annie, you did this!” Loic and Eva said about their son Noam, since I was part of how Loic and Eva met. Loic had brought a US dollar bill that I had written on and gifted him 12 years prior. He said he still carries it around with him in his wallet. It was so odd, inspiring and sad to be reunited and intimately connected with these friends who I hadn’t been in touch with for most of the 12 years. I think this was why I couldn’t quite identify the emotions I was feeling, because they were spanning quite a range. Guilt, excitement, normalcy, and a reminder of the comfort they had been to me during my time abroad/ still were in this moment. We still had the ability to quickly connect in our communication styles after all this time apart, and a different language and culture. I think it was also a reminder of who I “used to be” and who I felt I had lost within myself, but was getting a peak into how I could get her back.
It wasn’t quite flowers and roses, though. There was the awkward elephant in the room: all that time. What had happened, how did we bridge that time, did we even want to, or just start right here where we were? I think we did a mix of all of it while walking around London. Loic and Noam zoomed ahead on Loic’s wheelchair and led the sightseeing tour, while I walked behind with Eva and talked with her. Eva was one the first friends I met in England, and though she didn’t live with us she was always over at “Hastings House,” the name of my mixed 20 person co-ed dorm. We have lots of shared memories of people and events that I literally hadn’t thought about in 12 years until I was walking with her. We also face timed her excited mom and dad in Paris, who had hosted me 12 years ago and shared an excellent classic Parisian spread of pate, pasta, escargo.
I think part of my mixed feelings was regretting how I had acted in years following our study abroad, but also nostalgic for that freedom and person that those immature decisions had potentially embodied. It was a weird mix of missing my “chaotic” self, and also being ashamed of her. And also being so proud of baby Annie for even being in England in the first place and making these friends. And as I’m getting older I’m coming to terms with how important those long-term friendships are- those people who knew you then, and are still in your life today.
We left our bags at their hotel and toured London for a bit, saw Big Ben and other classics, then took the subway back toward their hotel. Accessible routes in England are called “no stair” entrances, and we took an elevator down to the subway platforms to get back to their hotel.
Back at the hotel, Loic suggested a pancake restaurant for dinner. Having never heard of a “pancake restaurant”, and also thinking that they must be good pancakes if a Belgian was recommending it (Loic takes great pride in Belgium, and especially waffles of Belgium) we made our way there. It was, truly, a dinner restaurant that specialized in only pancakes! I got an Australian savory pancake, Carp got a “classic American” and our Belgium friends got pancakes with fruit. They told us that in Belgium pancake places were fancy and top-notch, which was funny to us from an American point of view where pancakes are cheap (but delicious) breakfast food. We said that crepes were the fancy food in America, and they laughed at that (apparently pancakes are to Belgians what crepes are to Americans and vice versa). These are the kind of revelations I thrive on uncovering. It’s totally possible to come by revelations in your own country, but so much easier when you’re interacting internationally to get to casual mind bending differences.
I’m going to get things wrong, but over dinner we discussed support system differences between America and Belgium. They said in Belgium parents get $250 per month for each kid til the children are 21. Also in France (where Eva is from) kids don’t go to school on Wednesdays, and in Belgium they only do half days on Wednesdays. We asked how this worked for parents who were working and would have to find childcare or lunch for the kids on those days and Loic’s response was that that was not an issue in Belgium, and people simply asked for and got money from the state when they needed it.
They also mentioned they are getting a very expensive medical treatment, but only paying 3 Euros for a 90,000 Euro shot three times a year. They said it was cheaper because of disability, but if they weren’t on disability it would just be 20 Euros still (!!!!). This kind of health care coverage is simply unimaginable in America, and to Americans.
They also said that typical doctor visits without insurance is 60 Euros or so (20 on disability), but in Belgium they buy insurance not to get it down to a $60 copay like in America, but to help pay for the $60 bill. They also said that disability coverage in Belgium doesn’t just cover rent and food (like in the US) but also pays for attendants to come and help with chores, daily tasks, etc. which is not something that’s happening in the US at all.
In Beligum they have a rule against taxing no more than 80% of rich peoples’ income, but in the US it’s capped at 25% for the wealthy. Which is where the rub is. ($$$$$)
After dinner we went back up to their hotel to grab our bags, and they gently told their child that “These are friends like Jisu.” This statement brought a tear to my eye, and it still does now. Jisu was another of our good friends who I had lost touch with but they still talk to, she is from Korea. Another dropped friendship, which makes me reflect back on my storyline and who I’ve been. I think I thought at the time that I would be international for the rest of my life, and I would keep making international friends if these friends thought I was too much. Now I realize that those international friends were gonna be the big ones, at least up until now. I didn’t know it at the time.
The real reason for the tears was because when they said “these are friends like Jisu”, Noam’s face fell. He had had so much fun playing with Carp and seemed to be warming up to us, but when he heard we were friends like Jisu, he realized he wasn’t going to see us again for a long time.
We said goodbye and thanks so much for meeting us in London. I gave them a Kansas City Public Library t-shirt, and then we left. You know, I spontaneously casually cried outside the subway station, no big deal.
“Why are you crying?” Carp asked. “I don’t know.” I said.
Carp’s theory, which I think is a big part of it, was that this place and these people were where I found confidence in myself for the first time in my life. And confidence and a feeling of freedom has been hard to find because of OCD spirals and my mental health hanging out near the dumpster for years, honestly. England was reigniting me with direction and freedom, and touching base with that late bloomer inner child within me.
While I probably won’t ever study abroad again in the same way, that same energy is really everywhere if I look for it and challenge myself to explore. Back at our hotel that night I took the elevator back up to the room alone while Carp stayed to journal downstairs. A girl my age came in next to me, trying to grab my attention with her eyes. Finally I turned around:
“It’s freezing! It’s not cold at all in India!” she exclaimed. She had just landed at Heathrow, and was in England/ outside of India for the first time. And writing about this makes me cry too. It’s not about the specific people, though the specific people are great. It’s the idea that life is about challenging yourself, at least that’s what I want my life to be about. And challenging myself in a way that is not always horrible ERP (Exposure and Response Prevention, the treatment for OCD), but instead in a way that turns into a consistently life affirming and intoxicating presence of being. Like, wow. I can’t believe I’m in England right now. And wow, I can’t believe she was in India this morning and now we’re in an elevator together sharing a euphoric travel moment. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to truly write out how meaningful this return to England was for me. It’s not about the place, it’s about the mindset. And I’m so fucking thankful I was able to do it, and so thankful to my parents for making it possible and pushing me, and I want to continue to carry that energy with me daily. This blog series is an attempt at reminding myself about it when I’m needing that push in the direction.
Superbloom.
