A car alarm blares suddenly, making me jump. Motorcycles whiz by, each trying to evade the slow crushing movement of traffic lagging behind them. I hear ambulances approach, their sirens loud and squealing, and then they fade away, the sound disappearing along with any thought of where it was headed to begin with.
Living in London has been both overwhelming and inspiring. Every day, I encounter more people than those that live in my hometown. The bustle of lives around me leaks through my window, the snippets of conversation and lives of others never letting me have a moment to myself. From a distance, I see into the existences of my neighbors, seeing them at the supermarket, running to catch the bus. I’m struck by the fast-paced nature of everyone’s lives, and that the quietest streets are only so because I’m the only one there.
Each stage of growth in my life has been accompanied by a move to a more largely populated environment. I left my quiet street of eight sleepy houses for college in Boston, and I suddenly found myself with new sets of obstacles to overcome. Public transportation, although first an enemy contriving against my internal compass, quickly became my closest friend for exploration. I could hop on a bus or a train and be transported from the suburban Tufts campus into the heart of Boston, leaving behind the days of endlessly driving through the tree-lined streets.
The roads back home fight a losing battle with the forests on their edges, tiny cracks and clusters of plants springing up as the forest wins back the land. In London, it is a war between pedestrians and cars, both running and swerving their way through the other, desperate to make it through the last seconds of a green light.
I’ve thought a lot about home while I’ve been in London, though I haven’t seen it in nearly three months. Even now, listening to the rush of engines and wind outside my window, I wonder if home is really as quiet as I remember it to be. Are the streets the same? Will I find the same people working in the local coffee shop that have always worked there? Or have they been replaced, have they all moved on like I’ve moved on?
Every return from Boston reminded me how peaceful my town is. How the come and go of the seasons barely diminishes its New England charm and beauty. The faded echoes of cars on the highway miles away that float through the dead silence to my house, drowned out by the softest chirping of birds outside or a meow from my cats. With the constant pressure of sound and activity in London, I wonder if home will be unbearably silent or an oasis of peace.
Sometimes I forget I’m in London, it only too often reminding me of more familiar cities like Boston or New York, cities I’ve grown up with and explored a hundred times over. I wonder if London can ever be as familiar. I have a keen sense of direction, but even so, I have a nagging feeling that I’ll never truly feel at home here, that I’ll forever wander with a stab of doubt in my intentions.
I’ll always be an outsider, immediately labeled as one as soon as I open my mouth. Somehow, even with the most neutral-sounding Connecticut accent, my voice still sounds sharp and out of place among the smooth English and European tongues. There’s an eerie fascination with me, one that’s confronted by complete strangers after a simple greeting in passing.
“Oh, you’re American?” they’ll ask, as if that somehow explains everything. I’ll murmur a yes and a brief explanation of my abroad student status, only to be drowned out by questions of hometowns, schools, and thoughts of the city. I’m a bit of a curious display, not a tourist exactly, but not a permanent resident either. My time here has an expiration date, and I’m too quick to let everyone I meet know it. Maybe that’s why I’ve had trouble feeling at home completely, even though I’ve adjusted to and felt settled in my routines for months.
I know my life here is not permanent, nor is it a definition for how the rest of my future will turn out. It’s an experimental blip in my timeline, one that calls for adventure and stepping outside my comfort zone. It’s one that can shape me in ways I wouldn’t expect, and maybe it already has. I’ve already done a thousand things I never could’ve seen myself doing a few years ago. Being in a new place, a new country, and with a new identity has been incredibly fantastic and liberating. I wouldn’t trade my time here for anything.