On Jan. 5, 2011, two years ago today, I woke up at an ungodly hour, went to the train station, and rode five and a half hours to New York City; I caught a cab to JFK airport, boarded a flight that headed across the pond, and “woke up”—I didn’t really sleep—in London’s Heathrow Airport.
Two years ago today, my semester abroad in London began, and it changed my life.
Unlike some of my classmates, I didn’t live with a host family, but rather stayed in a dumpy cozy flat our program owned. For four months, I slept in a bunk bed, my first time since sleep away camp.
Unlike some study abroad programs, London didn’t offer rigorous courses, but rather classes that were city-specific like “Food, Society, and Culture,” which examined the history of British food and “Sporting London,” which examined the future host of the 2014 Olympics. (I’ll…
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