It’s been over two months since I left London and came back home to Kansas City. I’ve asked myself over and over again, “What was the point of my time in London?” I haven’t figured it out yet. I am reminded of the Steve Jobs anecdote about how he dropped out of Reed College, and then for the pure fun of it, audited several calligraphy classes there. Years later, these calligraphy classes became the foundation of Mac computers’ typefaces. So perhaps I will discover the purpose in the years to come.
When I was in London, I had all these grand plans for side trips throughout Europe: Barcelona, Vienna, Copenhagen. But I fell in love with London. I fell in love with the rows of tiny chimneys atop the townhouses, with the Capability Brown designed parks, and with the winding streets that revealed a bit more of the city with each turn. I fell in love with my long walks along the Thames, with the electrifying theater of the West End and with the inspiring programming at the V&A.
And I fell in love with the English countryside too. The rolling hills of Yorkshire, Derbyshire and Lincolnshire; dabbled with white sheep and their little black faces; each view more beautiful than the next. But most of all, I fell in love with the quiet politeness of England. A country so thoroughly courteous and thoughtful, that I hope it stays with me forever.