Let’s take a journey back in time. Back before our trips were cancelled, before we were confined to four walls and a few trips to the grocery store, before we were feeling old and jaded and lonely. Let’s go back to when we were younger.
A few years ago, I went to London for the summer. The reason, ostensibly, was to study British library practices for my MLS program. The real reason, of course, was that I couldn’t stand to stay at home without a trip anywhere outside the region for any longer without becoming completely miserable. So when the informational email came through my school inbox for a British Studies summer program that included a library science course, I applied.
I’m not sure if I was expecting it to be difficult to get into or not. All I knew was that I had to get to get out of the US and get to somewhere old and beautiful and historical and haunted. Somewhere where I could walk on ancient ground, somewhere where medieval buildings would tower above me and posh people would live in beautiful eighteenth century houses on quiet streets while a few blocks away traffic rushed and blared, and underground trains shuttled busy people from one corner to the city to another. If there is anywhere where this is more true than London, I don’t know where it is.
Luckily for me, I did get into the program, and the next thing I knew I was researching how to pack light, how to navigate the Tube, where to find low-cost theatre tickets, and how to get to the Tube station from my dorm (I needn’t have worried, as it was almost right beside Waterloo Station). I read British editions of fashion magazines to help decide what to pack. I stared at maps of London. I placed myself in Street View and virtually walked around. I read packing lists and blog posts and forums. Of course, when you arrive, you realize that there isn’t much you can do to prepare yourself from afar. You can really only know a place once you get there.
You think Britain will be pretty similar to America, especially when you live in an area settled by English and Scottish people. Of course, you know it’s an older country, you know that things look different, you know that there are traditions and pageantry that we just don’t have. But the differences go beyond that. I thought I would be prepared, having visited before, having watched mostly British television during my upbringing, and having studied English literature in college. I was wrong. It was more different, more wonderful, than you can imagine.
Did you know that you can wander into the tea room of any museum and usually for under five pounds get a cream tea in the afternoon? Did you know what a cream tea is? It sounds like it’s going to be some sort of milky tea latte sort of thing, but it’s not. It is a lovely little pot of tea served with a scone, a tiny jar of jam, and a serving of clotted cream, which sounds baffling and strange but is actually very like a richer sort of butter. Did you know that if you order a beer, they automatically give you a pint unless you specify otherwise? It is not at all unusual to get it with lunch. Then there are rules that you’d be well advised to do your best to get right; always stay on the right side of the escalators if you’re standing still, or a harried British man will immediately materialize behind you and begin shifting around uncomfortably and perhaps clearing his throat (I realize this really doesn’t sound like that bad a consequence, but you don’t want everyone to hate you). I’m sure you knew that Britain has a reputation for being cold and rainy. The thing that made it both more and less convenient is that during this trip it rarely rained all day, but would often rain briefly. Therefore, you needed a small umbrella to carry with you in case of a shower (fortunately I had one of these based upon the suggestion of those packing lists I read before I left!).
Some things I packed to take on my trip: Seven dresses, ranging from long-sleeved to no-sleeved. A pair of black jeans, a pair of blue jeans, and a pair of shorts, just in case. A couple of t-shirts, a sleeveless top, and a long-sleeved top. A denim jacket and a raincoat. Pajamas. A bathrobe. A light hoodie. A small black crossbody bag and a larger cloth bag (which was technically a diaper bag; it had lots of pockets and a waterproof interior). A pair of black Converse hi-tops, a pair of bebops (also known as saddle oxfords), and a pair of chunky-heeled sandals. My laptop and a plug converter. Beauty products. A few pieces of jewelry. A small notebook, pens, and pencils. Some books. All packed in a backpack and a carry-on-sized rolling suitcase.
This was actually the trip that refreshed my memory about how important it is to pack light and early. It looks like a huge amount of stuff all written out, but it really wasn’t too excessive for a summer-long trip. I had enough clothes that I didn’t have to do laundry constantly, but not so much that I had to check multiple bags or desperately try to meet the weight limit. In retrospect, I might’ve taken less, but it all worked out. The main thing was that I didn’t get everything into my bags long enough in advance, and I was still moving things around in the trunk of the car right before I left. This is not ideal. I promise you will be happier if you only have to get up, put your clothes on, and take your bags to the car before your flight.
Mild packing drama aside, the morning went well. I defeated my luggage frustrations and finally got everything organized as I wanted it, hopped in the car and was ready to go. If at all possible, get someone to drop you off at the airport and pick you up when you return. It makes any trip much easier and cheaper when you don’t have to hassle with and pay for parking at the airport. Your kind driver pulls up in front of the doors, you hop out and grab your bags, say your goodbyes, and you’re ready to stride through the doors of the airport and away on your next adventure.
