I’ve caught a cold from something or someone. I am blaming the cleanliness of hostels. I have a lot to say but this paper is calling and I must… finish. have to finish… now..

It’s 1:11AM right now (London time). Tomorrow I want to go to Giants Causeway and the only way I can is if I do this. Can I?? Yes… Will I???

Cambridge has proven to be an unbelievably intellectually stimulating experience. I am constantly writing down titles of books I must read and poems I must lookup and writers I need to know about. At first I was very nervous about the very full days, but I have seemed to adjust and I have met some great people to help make the days pass by quickly; however, there is no rush for them to do so. I went through a period in Portugal where I just wanted time to fly, but now that I am here and have regained composure and self-confidence I realize how great it is to be where I am right now. Don’t get me wrong though, I’m really looking forward to the months ahead.

It’s amazing; I’ve been so lucky and have had such a great time in college. I was looking through all of my pictures on facebook today and was deeply moved to see all of the different grounds covered and more importantly bonds built. A year ago two people that were some of the closest people to me in the world were still in my life, and today they are no longer here but still somehow I am ok- I am happy. Nonetheless my heart still hurts when I think about either of them: the death of my aunt and the split up with my lover/best friend. It amazes me how even with different grounds covered you still take who you were with you. I am still very much the same, just more chizzled by experiences and much more aware.

Already, I have finished four classes in this Academic boot camp. Wordsworth vs Byron, although was a rather dry topic at times, I have come to learn an insane amount about both and have especially found (as you may have read earlier) a fondness for Lord Byron. I also took, Charlotte Bronte Jane Erye & Villette, Sophocles Tragedies and my most favorite of them all: Variations of the Tragic. Variations of the Tragic was a great class where we read different modern tragedies. The play I was most moved by was Death of a Salesman: it truly is a must read for Americans. It touches upon such important and relevant themes in American society—something I am sure many many can identify with. The conversation in class over the play was very invigorating, and it was especially interesting to see the perspectives of non-Americans in reading such an American play.  After the class my heart was racing and I my mind was reeling from academic debate, I loved it.

Things I haven’t liked? Oh of course there are a few. One is that everyday there is a mandatory Plenary Lecture before lunch. We have had a few interesting speakers over the past couple of weeks, but most unfortunately they have been dreadfully boring. A lot of these academic types just get up to the podium and read their academic papers. They assume the audience has heard of some of these obscure authors or topics. I’ve been unimpressed by these people, how can you teach for one of the best universities on the planet and not know how to engage an audience – it’s one thing if that’s not what you do – but as a “professor” one should know how to profess properly and interestingly. Fortunately the professors for my classes have all been pretty spectacular.

Currently making my way through 8 books I need to read in two weeks before my British Empire through Literature and Film starts in early August. I’m reading, for the first time, Rudyard Kipling and loving him.

I still don’t have a camera, and I lost my iPhone at the Portugal airport. I have to pickup my camera at the post office, but it incurred a 55 pound importation fee which I will have refunded after I pay it and prove that I am a student here. I would have paid it by now, but I am currently really broke and am anxiously waiting for my stipend from Northeastern. Wow, it’s already 10 PM here. I can’t believe how time flies. Well, I really should get back to reading.

Some great quotes from Death of a Salesman by Arthur Miller:

“I don’t say he’s a great man. Willie Loman never made a lot of money. His name was never in the paper. He’s not the finest character that ever lived. But he’s a human being, and a terrible thing is happening to him. So attention must be paid. He’s not to be allowed to fall in his grave like an old dog. Attention, attention must finally be paid to such a person.”

“A small man can be just as exhausted as a great man.”

“You can’t eat the orange and throw the peel away – a man is not a piece of fruit.”

“After all the highways, and the trains, and the appointments, and the years, you end up worth more dead than alive.”

One passage in particular rang true to me, and I thought I’d share it:

“Where rose the mountains, there to him were friends;

Where roll’d the ocean, thereon was his home;

Where a blue sky, and glowing clime, extends,

He had the passion and the power to roam;

The desert, forest, cavern, breaker’s foam,

Were unto him companionship”

- Canto III. Stanza XIII.

Often times when traveling, you learn to take refuge in the nature around you.  Sometimes even, you don’t have the indulgence of someone else to be with you to share the experience and you are seeing these wonders alone. I say this, and then I think… well, that’s not entirely true. For me, as much as I did find peace in nature and appreciating the natural beauties of say southern Portugal; I also did have something there to share it with me. I wrote in my journal one day while strolling along the coast after a day of sunshine at the pool:

My camera is my companion sharing with me these experiences. Its pictures will remind me of what I saw like an old friend does at a much overdue lunch. It will remind me of the times gone by; it will be my keener and more vivid eye as my own memories begin to fade.

This is true though, not just for traveling purposes but also in remembering times that have long since passed. I am not quiet like Lord Byron at all in anyway, but I can relate to him in some ways: the seeking refuge in traveling – hoping to escape the memories of love and other times of happiness – and then falling victim of painful nostalgia. It seems, that no matter how far you go, these memories can still grab a hold of you and feel as sharp as it would anywhere in the world. I like when Byron says, “What deep wounds ever closed without a scar?” and those scars are painful to remember. Yet we carry on, through the adventures… then pretty soon your other pictures are buried with newer pictures, of new sights sought and lands conquered. I have come to realize that scars tend to fade with a lot of sunshine, a tan can cover a lot of things up; nonetheless, covering it up does not mean that they do not exist. Now I am getting lost in metaphorical messages, enough.

I have finished four full days here at Cambridge. I have been more than comfortable in my accommodation, and I have quiet literally received a royal treatment here; it is truly an academic oasis and it is inspiring. I do not have a camera right now (long story), but it was supposed to have arrived on Monday. Hopefully, when I do receive it, I will be able to share some photos and in turn document some memories.

Currently sitting in my hostel, with a sleeping French guy diagonally on top of me (I mean he’s on the top bunk next to me). Everyone else is downstairs hanging out in the lobby, I’ve done my share of that this week, and now I am here. Exploring the slue of websites I have accumulated over the years, I have come to realize that I really miss making videos; in any context. I wish I had brought stuff to edit, or my camera didn’t die, or my external hard drive wasn’t stolen. I guess my creative film odds were against me, like they were in Australia. Every camera I had broke while I was there, except for my most loyal techno-companion: the iphone. So it remains my most loyal techno-companion, I am knocking on every piece of wood I see, and I urge you to too (if anyone reads this??). I don’t really believe in the whole knocking on wood thing, but hell anything is better than nothing.

Tomorrow I am bussing south to Lagos. I am excited about it, for I plan on getting my tan on. I also want to bike around, and I have this vision of reading in the shade of gigantic ocean rocks on the beach; we’ll see if my vision comes true.

It is hard to believe that in exactly two weeks, I will be moved into Cambridge. Wow. Anxiously discussing these plans with my family and friends seems like it was just yesterday, but at the time the plans felt like they were years away. Time sneaks up on you and the predictions become the present almost faster than you had the ideas to begin with.

I took the train from Prague to Krakow. There is a stopover and because our train broke down and caused a two hour delay, I was required to share a van cab with a Canadian, a couple from Singapore and a guy from Vienna. It was one of those side trip random adventures that I’ve always thought only happened in movies. While we were driving through Poland, I couldn’t help but note that a year ago I never would have expected to be driving through Eastern Europe – Poland even. I’m happily surprised; I like not being able to predict what great adventures await me.

So far I’ve been to: Madrid, Barcelona, Prague and now Krakow. I’m headed back to Prague on Sunday, I’m going to try and take the night train. However, someone told me that it’s a bit unsafe in standard 2^nd class on the night train, so I’m probably going to either upgrade to 1^st class or just take the day train. I’m going to have to make my way to the train station tomorrow and figure it out.

Barcelona was beautiful, but it really does have a sketchy feel. Matt and I were constantly being offered drugs. I also didn’t like the feeling that I always had to be worried about my wallet being stolen – in fact what I did was wear my passport neck wallet underneath my shirt – but that just made my shirts look weird. See below.

Somehow Matt and I survived Las Ramblas (the main tourist street in the old part of Barcelona), and neither of us had anything stolen.

Prague was fun the two days I was there, but I didn’t really get a chance to sightsee. I was mainly hanging out with Matt before his trip, he leaves tomorrow. When I get back Sarah and I are going to be starting our journey together and we will have a very packed itinerary in Prague and everywhere else.

Right now I am happy to have a really nice room (I’ve never had such a nice room in a hostel) and am ready to catch up on some sleep debt that I’ve accumulated these nights of fun.

Tonight I had some real Polish pierogies. They were potato cheesy deliciousness- especially since they were SO cheap. I love Eastern European prices, love them. I am 25% Polish and my Great Aunt, whom I was extremely close with was 100% Polish and was very proud of her heritage. She would be really happy to hear that I am visiting where the Gabriel family first started. It’s so crazy to be in the country where your name originates, not that I am meeting anyone from the family or anything; it’s just warming to be in your family’s homeland. No one else in my family has been back here, so it’s also cool to know that even though I am one of the youngest, I am still interested in remembering our roots.

The night of our goodbye party, I mentioned in conversation that it is a sad realization that “this is the closest we will all ever be again.” My friends and I from this trip will probably never be in such close proximity at the same time, and as close again emotionally. There are always exceptions to the rule, but it is unlikely and that is a sad realization. For, there are not many times in life where you grow close with people and know for a fact that this will be as close as you will ever be, I guess when certain friends are moving or you are leaving you always assume that you’ll have the chance to be close again because you’ve had them part of your life for so long. With study abroad it is a bit different than that.

I guess that is what makes studying abroad such a highly regarded experience: for a short while you experience what it is like to live and create a world in another country, with different friends, different foods and life-altering experiences. For the most part, all of these experiences and ways of life are temporary-, which in a sense romanticizes the whole thing. Already, I have a tendency with nostalgia only remembering the good and forgetting the bad—oh sweet memory. As I think about the times from Australia, I remember them with fondness and appreciation more and more.

My friends and I at our goodbye party

I had incredible luck with checking my bags, but I’ll talk about that once I get to Boston – I don’t want to jinx my luck. Until then…