Untold Journeys
London. Marseilles. Callander. Aix-En-Provence.
When I visited certain places, I felt it worth more to embrace the immediate experience rather than force a blog post.
A week ago today, I stood at Buckingham Palace and watched the guards parade on horseback to the front gate. My face almost slid between the iron bars as I stood on the concrete lift. I was yelled at by a guard the minute I tried to walk across the street. I strolled through Green Park, which was quite brown due to the chilly December weather.
This day (in fact, this entire week) I did not travel alone. My sister joined me in Scotland for the final week of my study abroad trip. We managed day after day of home-cooked meals, Christmas sugar cookie baking, cancelled trains to London at 6:06am and taxi rides between 5:30 and 7:45. We had afternoon tea outside Buckingham Palace, searched Regent Street for boutiques and restaurants unique to London, were declined Big Red Bus rides with a simple shake of the head, and managed to walk from Picadilly Circus to Westminster and Waterloo with a record total of 35,000 steps.
These are the untold journeys of my trip abroad.
My fall break, I took a trip to France, where I visited some family friends in their Marseilles apartment. This was my second time to the city, but now I had the chance to see it through fresh eyes — without my family — and relax.
From a famously painted mountain, to the intellectual Aix-En-Provence, to the wall-surrounded Avignon, to an art show inside a medieval village’s rock quarry, I gained experiences which are better captured through photographs than my blurry, repetitive descriptions.
It is hard to comprehend the amount of travel crammed into these two weeks of time. I realize why my mind reels incessantly; the places to see and things to do are endless.
I take Caroline on a hike through a highland village called Callander two days before our flight out of Scotland. This is the first experience she has outside of London, England, and I hope the mountain town is as cute and idyllic as I remember. It definitely is, and we find perfect souvenirs for both my mother and my grandfather. Even a sign pointing to the Loch Lomond and Trossachs National Park gives me joy; we find Bracklinn Falls, a natural site I’ve wanted to visit since I first researched the area.
I take her to Edinburgh to experience both the museums and the Scottish charm. We spend time in shops, dine at a dark pub, gaze at the Christmas-ready St. Giles Cathedral the day before Christmas Eve, and enjoy the cold but sunny sky.
It’s a whirlwind trip. I’m not sure whether I would do it all again. It was exhausting, where my trip to France was rejuvenating. In Marseilles I received a complimentary French massage, spent a day watching old movies by candlelight, and popped open some wine to join a set of sausage and fromagerie delicacies. When Caroline arrived, I spent too much time calling taxis and trying to cram the experience of living in Stirling into one day.
But these are the weeks I felt most like myself. Surrounded by familiar faces, people I can call more than acquaintances or friends. Maybe the sentiment of travelling with someone makes writing down the experience that much harder. I finally have a companion to share the journey with; a person to hold my memories accountable and even fill in the gaps. I decide to live in the moment.
It is a relief to fulfill my craving for travel, and at the same time, I learn that I am exhausted. Public transportation is reliable but unnerving. Asking for directions over and over again becomes a habit that I want to break. I feel I have fully explored Scotland; this emotion is comforting and encouraging. Between a trip to London and a trip to Marseilles, I expand beyond the expectations of a study abroad experience.
I am a confident, engaging world traveler. Now it’s time for me to come home.
