Like an old friend

London. Åh London. Det var dejligt at se dig igen. Alle der kender mig ved, at jeg elsker London. Jeg elsker, hvordan alle maser sig frem på Oxford Street med favnen fuld af enten den efterhånden ikoniske brune papirspose med de tynde lyseblå bogstaver fra Primark eller den skriggule fra Selfridges. Primark-posen  skriger kvantitet over kvalitet og Selfridges står for kvalitet. Jeg tilhører selv den første gruppe af folk, der ikke har råd til at mæske os i Selfridges luksus. Oxford Street er altid spændende. Der sker altid noget. Især hvis du gør dig selv imødekommende. Så snakker folk til dig. Det kan jeg mægtig godt lide. Såsom idag, hvor der var to pakistanere, der spurgte mig, om jeg var fransk. Not cool man. Den har jeg alligevel aldrig hørt før. Snakker I hollandsk i Danmark? Eller da jeg stoppede ved to fløjtespillende mænd, der så meget sydamerikanske ud. Og såmænd de ikke også var det. Bolivia og Peru. Jamen dog! Det var rart. Snakker I spansk i Danmark, spurgte han mig. I wish. Der sker altid noget i London. For nyligt opdagede jeg, at sprogudveklingseventet, som jeg gik til konstant i Buenos Aires, endelig er til at finde uden for Argentinas grænser. Selvfølgelig til London som det første sted. Så jeg tog to finske veninder under armen, hvoraf jeg skal bo under samme tag med den ene på vores kollegie i Aberdeen. Det var smadderhyggeligt! Jeg suger alt der kan minde mig om Argentina til mig, det er vist ingen hemmelighed. De tre arrangører havde også været i Buenos Aires og meget indforståede blikke blev udvekslet. Vi savner det alle sammen. Det er ikke kun mig. Jeg fik dog en del af Sydamerika i form at portugisisk. Det er rustent, men det var der. Lyttede til en del finsk og konkluderede, at jeg aldrig nogensinde skal lære det sprog. Der var som sædvanligt ingen danskere. Gudsketakoglov. Det argentinske flag var til at spotte men de var ikke til at trænge igennem til, så min søgen fortsætter. To be continued. Det spanske ligeså, og dem der kender mig, ved også at jeg elsker Spanien og alt relateret dertil. Eller rettere sagt, jeg elskede. Now not so much. Sydamerika ændrede alt for meget! Jeg tog endda mig selv i at spørge en spansktalende gut, hvorvidt han var fra Spanien og da han nikkede, tog jeg mig selv i at sukke højlydt, hvortil han grinte. Jeg tror godt han forstod det. De er ikke i så høj kurs mere. Eller også havde han set mit argentinske flag. Hvem ved. Alle i Sydamerika gør grin med den mumlede spanske accent og nu er jeg også begyndt at kunne identifiere det komiske i den. Så ja, i stedet for at skulle anstrenge mig for ikke at grine af dem, når de snakker til mig, foretrækker jeg helt at holde mig helt væk. Det giver da mening, gør det ikke? Og hvis de har et brændende ønske om at konversere med mig (for hvem har ikke det?), så må de imitere den skønne røst, der er den argentinske rioplatense accent. 

Jeg har haft en par rigtig gode dage i London. Jeg har været ude i forstæderne, hvor jeg boede første gang jeg var her, jeg har mødtes med nogle af andre førsteårsstuderende, der også skal til Aberdeen, jeg har været til en fantastisk (og gratis!) intimkoncert/meet n' greet med Nina Nesbitt, en skotsk sangerinde (inkl. cupcakes, drinks og verdens største goodiebag fra Forever 21) og jeg har mødt en helt masse nye fantastiske mennesker. London skuffer aldrig, det kan jeg vist godt konkludere nu hvor jeg har været her 3 gange. Og nu er klokken ved at nærme sig 21, kalenderen siger d. 5. september og jeg sidder pt. og stirrer ind i min skærm, som er åben på min universitets email konto - min indbakke bugner allered med beskeder om informationsmøder, registrering, tutormøder, mentorprogrammer og alt det hejs, selvom vi ikke engang er startet endnu. Jeg kan ikke tro, at det er nu. At det faktisk er i dag, at jeg stiger på en bus, hvor destinationen er Aberdeen. Imorgen er dagen, jeg har ventet på i efterhånden mere end 6 måneder - lige siden jeg fik nyheden om, at jeg var optaget. Jeg tager bussen i aften ved midnat og ankommer imorgen ved middagstid. Og så går det løs - snart kan jeg kalde mig universitetsstuderende i Skotland!

London, my dear friend. It was incredibly nice to see you again. Anyone who truly knows me also knows that I love London. I absolutely adore London. I love everything about London. I love how, when you walk down Oxford Street, can't avoid being squeezed by busy people waving either a brown paper bag that has the word Primark on it, written with those almost iconical ivy blue letters, or the yellow Selfridges bag that's a bit classier in my opinion. It's either quality or quantity. You choose. Primark is the latter. I fall into the category of deprived people who fall for the cheap tricks by Primark. They know how to market themselves. I fall for it. I also love Oxford Street because there's always something going on. Very Londonish. People talk to you if you put on your extroverted face and make yourself available. Or maybe you'll casually meet two Latino looking guys playing the flute and you ask them where they're from to which they answer with the softest Latin American-accent "Yo soy de Bolivia y él de Perú". Or you'll casually get approached by two guys from Islamabad asking you if you're French. I never heard that one before. Finnish, Dutch, American, Swedish.. But never French. Why not Argentinian, huh? I could totally pass for being latina. Or maybe, you discover that your favorite language event, an event you used to attend all the fucking time in Buenos Aires, finally expanded and can now be found outside Argentina. Where? London, of course! So I went. Of course I went. I went with two Finnish girls. One of them's gonna live in the room next door in the residence halls in Aberdeen, so we decided to meet up while we're both in London anyways. It was awesome. The guys who'd arranged it also went to Buenos Aires. Understanding looks were exchanged. We all miss it. It's not just me who's going nuts, guys, okay? I also got to speak some Portuguese (getting better everyday!) and listen to some Finnish. I can now conclude that Finnish will never be my language. As always, no Danes. Argentinians were to be spotted but no chances to mingle. Next time. My search for genuine (and approachable) Argentinians continues. I actually found myself asking a Spanish-speaking guy "De dónde eres?" and when he said España, the disappointment was written all over my face. I said 'Oh..', kept on walking and he laughed. It was kinda funny. Tragicomic. It's funny partly because I used to love Spain, Spaniards and everything related. But now.. Now I even find myself avoiding to talk to them because literally everyone in South America makes fun of the Spanish accent and now I can't help but notice it every single time. And I can't help but giggle. They do not like that. So I figured it's easier to avoid them, right? I have an unhealthy relationship with Hispanic things. The other day at Pizza Hut I actually found myself undertipping my waiter solely based on the fact that he, of course, was the only non-Hispanic waiter there. Can that be classified as racism?
Another thing that's also bound to happen in London is being met by very friendly cahiers and at least half of them will refer to you as love. It's lovely. Of course that's not just in London, but all over England. I love it! You say "Have a nice day," and they say "You too love!" How can that not make you all happy and giggily? 

So, to sum up, these past few days have been amazing. I've met up with lovely people who's going to Aberdeen as well, I went to see my 'old house' in the Northwestern surburbs where I lived with my hostfamily during my language travel in 2011, I went to a free meet-the-artist/intimate concert with Nina Nesbitt who's a famous Scottish YouTuber (and it included cupcakes, fruity drinks and a huge goodiebag from Forever 21 - score!) and I've met a bunch of amazing people. What more could you ask for? 
And now it's finally Friday the 5th of September. Which means it's showtime tomorrow! Or actually, it all starts tonight in my case - I'm taking a bus from Victoria at midnight and then 12 hours later, tomorrow at noon, I'll arrive in Aberdeen.  As of right now, I'm just staring at my computer where my university email account is open. Notices about welcome sessions, personal tutor meetings, career programmes, registration sessions. I've been waiting for this day for more than 6 months and now it's finally tomorrow. It's hard to believe, but one thing is for sure; I am utterly and beyond excited! This is it!

✈ The travel chronicles ✈ - the people

Imens jeg prøver at komme over mit omvendte (og desværre stadigt eksisterende) kulturchok efter mit relativt korte USA-eventyr, har jeg tænkt meget over følgevirkningerne af turen og hvordan den har påvirket mig. Nej, faktisk over effekterne af alle mine ture. Mine eventyr, som jeg ynder at kalde dem i daglig tale. Godt nok har det ikke altid indebåret regnbuer og candyfloss-farvede græsmarker,  men det har været mindeværdigt. Selv alle de katastrofale og ulykkelige øjebikke. Up's and down's. Og det er vel det, det hele handler om, ikke sandt? Og nu, nu skal det handle om det at rejse. Jeg vil jo så gerne have en rejseblog og det nytter jo ikke noget, at jeg kun skriver, når jeg er on the road. Refleksionerne hører vel også med, og eftersom jeg er i Danmark, er der jo ikke mange eventyr at rapportere om i skrivende stund. Så jeg vil bruge tiden på at reflektere lidt over det at rejse.

Folk har ofte spurgt mig om, hvorfor jeg godt kan lide at rejse. Især mine gamle klassekammerater fra min gymnasieklasse, der blandt andet ikke kunne forstå at jeg gad tage en måned til Spanien for at lave noget "så kedeligt som at studere spansk". Og jeg har længe ikke vidst, hvad mit svar burde være. Jeg kan godt lide at se ting, jeg aldrig har set før. Den første gang, man ser et berømt vartegn, for at nævne et eksempel. Jeg glemmer i hvert fald aldrig det øjeblik, hvor jeg, totalt overgearet og lykkelig, så Big Ben for første gang i horisonten med mine nye venner på sprogrejsen til England. Jeg glemmer i hvert fald heller aldrig den ubeskrivelige følelse jeg fik, da jeg stod ud af bussen på Times Square omgivet af 120 andre ekstatiske piger fra alle afkroge af verden. Men det bedste ved at rejse? Mennesker. Forskellighed. Mangfoldighed. Det bedste ved at rejse er alle de mennesker, man møder på sin vej. Sådan er det i hvert fald for mig. Jeg fanger tit mig selv i at tænke 'hvordan har jeg været så heldig at få lov til at blive beriget med dette menneskes selskab?' Jeg har også tit tænkt 'åh gud, hvad skal jeg gøre for at slippe af med hende her?' Man må jo tage det sure med det søde.

Om det var den ekstremt stereotypiske russiske pige, hvis selvlærte engelsk klart overtrumfede mit og alle de andre studerendes, om det var den israelske fyr, hvis skriftsprog decideret lignede volapyk for os andre, om det var den pige, der, da jeg mødte hende i Skotland, ikke kunne svare på spørgsmålet om, hvor hun kom fra, da hun ikke vidste, hvad hun skulle kalde for hjem, eftersom hendes forældre ejede huse i Los Angeles, Christchurch og London, om det var den fremmede mand i Texas, jeg endte med at støde tilfældigt på to gange og som, på trods af ikke at kende mig, alligevel satte sig ned og tog sig tid til at snakke med mig om det at være væk hjemmefra.

Det er næsten underordnet. Det fascinerende ved at møde nye og anderledes mennesker er deres historie. Hvem de er, hvor de kommer fra, hvem de gerne vil være og hvor de skal hen. Og hvorfor de er her. Der er altid dem, der overrasker mig; dem der ikke passer ind i den kasse, man på forhånd har placeret dem i og man derfor er tvunget til at kasserere de fordomme, man havde om dem. Der er dem, der, når jeg har sagt farvel til dem, har efterladt mig med en tom og opgivende følelse - det værste ved at knytte sig til folk, som man har eventuelt kun har kendt i et par dage, det er tanken om at man ikke har en jordisk chance for at vide, om man nogensinde ser dem igen eller om man overhovedet kommer til at holde kontakten. Heldigvis træder den følelse for det meste i baggrunden og bliver erstattet af en anden; følelsen man får, når man opdager at man lige har fået en ven for livet - oftest på den allermest tilfældige måde. Venner, som du ved altid vil være der for dig, selvom afstanden mellem jer er enorm. Derfor er det min yndlingsting ved at rejse. Venskaberne, historierne og de lange samtaler til langt ud på natten med mennesker, du ikke kender.. men alligevel aldrig har lyst til at forlade igen.

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While I'm still trying to deal with my reverse culture shock, I've had a lot of time on my hands to think and reflect on the thoughts and the speculations that my stay in Texas has undoubtedly left me with. Which made me reflect on all of my adventures. Because that's what they've been. Adventures. Not exactly the kind of candy floss pink fairytales with unicorns at the end of the rainbow, but adventures. Journeys. They have all been memorable, even the many moments of sadness, giving up and just plain out irrationality. The up's and down's. It all counts. And really, that's what it's all about, isn't it? That's what this is gonna be about. Travelling. Afterall, I do claim this to be a travel blog, so why not use my travels as an inspiration, even when I'm not on the road? All the aftermath is just as much a part of it as the physical journey itself. The reflections are a part of it and since I'm currently back in Denmark, those delightful travel-related experiences are out of the picture. So for now I'll spend the time reflecting on the thing that is to travel. 

I've often had people asking me why I like travelling so much. Especially my old high school classmates. Some of them simply couldn't comprehend why I bothered living in Spain for a month for something as boring as that of studying Spanish. For a long time I didn't know the answer. I still don't. Sometimes I ask myself the same questions. Then I think back and remember all the feelings, the people, the adrenaline. Suddenly, I don't remember why I ever had any doubts. I like seeing things for the first time. The first time you see a famous landmark, for instance. One thing is for sure, I'll never ever forget the first time I saw Big Ben. I was with my new friends and my international class and we had anticipated the moment for what felt like years. It was breathtaking. I'm also positive I'll never forget the moment I stepped out of the bus at Times Square at nighttime. But my favorite part of it all? People. Diversity. Multiplicity. The best part of travelling is all the people you'll meet. Sometimes I catch myself thinking 'how on earth have I deserved to be blessed with the company of this person?' Other times, I catch myself thinking 'oh dear god, how am I gonna get rid of this person?' No light without darkness.

Whether it was the extremely stereotypical Russian girl, whose self-taught English without a doubt made the rest of us feel utterly inferior, the Israeli guy whose written language literally looked like nonsense to me, the girl, who, when I met her in Scotland, couldn't quite provide me with an answer to my question of where's she's from, as her parents own houses in Los Angeles, Christchurch and London or whether it was the stranger in Texas I accidentally ran into twice, who, despite not knowing me, still took the time to sit down with me to discuss the subject of being away from home.

It doesn't matter. The fascinating thing about meeting new people is their story. Everybody's got a story. As it turned out, the stranger in Texas was in fact not Texan; he was from Wisconsin and even though he hadn't even left American soil, he agreed that Texas does feel like a different planet. We all have a story. I did too. He felt drawn to ask me about mine because I was on Skype speaking a language he could make no sense of. Our story. Who we are. Where we're from. Who we want to be and where we're going. And most importantly of all, why we're here. There are always people who manages to surprise me: they're the ones that doesn't fit into the box you've already put them in even before they've opened their mouth and you therefore have to dispose of all your prejudice. There are the ones, who, right after I've said goodbye to them, have left me with an empty feeling - the worst thing about bonding with people you have possibly just known for a few days is not knowing when you'll see them again. Or if you'll ever see them again. Fortunately, that feeling tends to fade and turn into another; the feeling you have when you realize that you've possibly just gained a friend for life. Usually in the most random way possible. A friend you know will always be there for you even though the distance between you is four-digit number. That is why it's my favorite thing about travelling. The friendships, the stories and those hour long conversations in the middle of the night with people you're only just getting to know but somehow never feel like you want to leave.

When a man is tired of London, he is tired of life; for there is in London all that life can afford

London er fortsat den by, jeg holder allermest af. Sprogrejsen i 2011 var det mest sublime, jeg nogensinde har oplevet. Ikke engang New York eller Tokyo har ændret på det.