It’s been 2 months since I’ve arrived back in California after living in London for 3 months. Assimilating back into my normal routine hasn’t been a challenge at all. In fact, sometimes it feels like I never really left. I haven’t really talked much about my trip to my friends back home besides saying that it was nothing short of amazing, extremely expensive, or “so much colder than California” Occasionally I’d reveal stories like how I almost missed my flight to Barcelona or the time I paid 18 dollars for a cold sandwich, chips and a bottle of water. But all of the details about what I seen and how I felt got lost in translation between all of the inconsistent Face time calls with friends.
I miss London. I miss planning day trips with friends, trying foods I’ve never ate, walking paths I’ve only seen in photos. I miss people watching while walking around the city, seeing people walk to work, sitting on the tube, going about their daily lives in fashions so different from my own. I miss studying geography from british professors in a classroom full of british students. I miss going out for pre drinks at Spoons, and ordering sunday brunch. I miss meeting new people at hostels. Where is the Canadian guy I met in a Barcelona hostel who studied engineering but decided to follow his passion in music and travel around Europe? I miss spending too much money on drinks because I was legal, and all of the bad decisions that followed. I miss going to bars and clubs and buying bagels at 2 am. I miss wearing my black chelsea boots and bomber jacket and scarves I knew would collect dust back in California. I miss living a life in a new city where nobody knew me.
After reminiscing, I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m
Sometimes I get worried that I’ll never settle because of how much there is to see in the world and how much I’m willing to leave everything behind to do so.
Until I figure out how to be happy with where I’m at, I’ll be going through my camera roll for the 23432452th time.