Hello Blog! My name is Maggie Jenkins, and I am currently a junior at Wellesley. At the moment, however, I am not writing from our small Massachusettsian campus, but rather from my small flat in London, England. As a result of months of meticulous planning and a decent amount of self-prescribed British telly, I am spending my fall semester studying English language and literature at University College London.
As I’m writing this, it is Day 12 of my life as an imitation Londoner and Day 1 of my classes at UCL. My first two weeks here have been replete with relaxation, tasty food, and roughly one million trips to the nearest Boots, Tesco’s Express, or Co-Op to pick up yet another item I somehow forgot during my previous visit—because seriously, how many types of soap can one person need?
Airplane in airport terminal
Seeing as this was both my very first time leaving the United States and traveling alone, I had no expectations of a perfect journey. After a loving farewell to my parents at the airport and the TSA song and dance, I flew for about six hours from the East Coast to Hounslow, England. I lugged my parcels from baggage claim to the London Underground in the lower level of Heathrow Airport and sat on the tube for about an hour, sharing a nice conversation with a British woman, and keeping a fixed eye on all of my bags next to me—I will NOT be feeding the infamous London pickpockets, thank you very much.
Underground tube platform
Upon arriving at my station, I faced what must have been the most treacherous journey of my life, apart from the everyday lunch rush at Bae Po Lu Chow, the student center on Wellesley’s campus. Due to my exorbitant wardrobe and guitar-playing being one of my main hobbies, I ended up hauling one large suitcase, one carry-on, a guitar case on my back, and an over-flowing backpack on my front. This extremely hefty load coupled with my prolonged weightlifting hiatus turned what was supposed to be a twelve-minute walk into about forty minutes of huffing, puffing, and assuring strangers that I would be alright, which I’m sure was very obviously a lie, as given away by my puzzled face and melon-sized sweat stains. Eventually, though, after taking several breathers and reciting mantras I’ve adopted from ultra-marathoners, I made it to my flat, got checked in, and collapsed on my bed until it was time to do the responsible thing and pick up a pizza for dinner—which, by the way, pales in comparison to New York pizza, but you already knew that.
Iced matcha latte with pastry
Scene of Notting Hill on rooftop screen
Other than that first day of burdensome luggage and my impression of a trip to Mordor, my time here has gone very smoothly. I’ve already done lots of shopping (mostly to claim the world record of “Most British Sweets Consumed in Three Months”) and fallen victim several times to the seductive “matcha latte and pastry” combo. I’ve ordered plenty of takeaway, namely falafel wraps whose deliciousness can’t be described by words alone, binge watched Heartstopper in my room, and even attended a rooftop viewing of Notting Hill, because what better time and place would there be for me to watch it?
French toast and tea from Cappadocia
Union Jack flags in Soho
These past two weeks have already been such a formative period in my life so far that I can’t wait to see what’s in store for the rest of the term. Thank you for reading, and I hope you stick around for this adventure as I find myself and, more importantly, the best eats in London!
Cheers! xx
Red telephone booths outside of Euston Church
Series of buildings and cars lining street
Red double-decker bus passing through the street