And just like that, the first week draws to a close. Since my plane touched down a week ago, there has been no stopping; from site to site, I have quantitatively seen, heard, and felt more than I ever have before. To relay all my experiences and the accompanying sensations would be a vain pursuit, but, all the same, I assure you that my travel has thus far been amazing. 

A part of myself certainly feels as though it has come home: with all the reading I did while growing up, part of my spirit has come to identify with this land where literature and life are seemingly actualized in a distinct and idyllic light. It is heartwarming, an awe-inciting country worthy of each and every accolade; but despite the grandeur of it all, England is grounded in reality--a reality defined to a great degree by fallen human interaction. While it has been easy to get caught up in all the hype, embracing the joy I envisioned so often before coming here, I was, through an abrupt series of events in the new Olympic Park, brought to the realization that London, England is not separate and distinct from the world, but, rather, stands as a monument for all of humanity's accomplishments and failures. 

I made it: after long hours of study, packing, and anticipation, I am finally walking the streets of London, basking in the history and beauty of a new milieu. As I stepped off the plane this morning (11:30 a.m. by London's time), I couldn't help but grin: for the first time, I was out of North America, experiencing something entirely new and different--and I knew that that was just the beginning.

After going through customs and reclaiming our luggage, our group was able to head promptly to our hotel, which is located right in the heart of London. Needless to say, we were all pretty tired. For some (including myself), the past thirty hours had been spent awake, anxiously preparing and failing to get some "shut eye" on the plane flight across the atlantic. Fortunately spirits were high upon arrival and we were able to keep our sleep deprivation at bay.

Twenty-four hours from now I will airborne, being whisked east in route to London's Heathrow International Airport. After weeks of concentrated study and escalating anticipation, I finally stand upon the threshold of a monumental life experience; but even as my expectancy grows all the closer to actuality, so also do certain anxieties mount. As I experienced a few weeks ago when preparing for the program, the pressures of packing and pulling everything together loom oppressive between myself and the moment when I am able to rest, assuredly flying over states and waters on my way England.

There is much to be taken care of between now and tomorrow evening. Between laundry, packing, and paperwork--checking through all three multiple times to soothe every concern--I have given myself little time to actually sit down and just reflect upon my upcoming travels. Instead of basking in the excitement of the moment, I have allowed stress to take hold as I attempt to prepare myself for travel.

Despite such worries, however, brief moments have granted time in which to consider England and the travels I will have therein. I have thought of all the places that I will go and all the things that I will see, but much of it still remains a mystery. I'm unsure of how things will turn out, whee I will go and who I will meet this summer; but I have continued to anticipate, becoming more cognizant of my desires and intentions for the summer. Through all my reflection and preparation, I have been confronted by one distinct question that I continue to ask myself:

What am I expecting?