This past weekend, I underwent some of the initial stages necessary in becoming a full-fledged Brit: traveling outside of London and, most importantly, taking some time to rest.
London is terrific. I’ve purchased some of the best food I’ve ever had from vendors decorating the streets with mini markets. I’ve seen comedy shows, been feet away from Cleopatra of Thebes’ mummified body and have the tube and bus systems down like a pro.
But London is also a massive city, and for someone who loves nature, having to make a deliberate effort to find a tree sometimes takes its toll on me. It’s been hard to justify spending moments of rest in a city that seems to offer more than I could ever accomplish. Lately, I’ve been missing Pit sits and relaxing in Polk Place before class, so an escape to the suburbs of England — known here as the villages or countryside — was in order.
Thankfully, a new British friend, Elise, has taken me under her wing, and my plans to get out of the city for the weekend were met with her enthusiasm for me to experience England outside its largest city. On Friday, we boarded the train to her hometown in southern England, Reading, pronounced not like what you do with a book, but like the color “red” with an “ing.”
From being with Elise and her family, I learned about the small cultural fabrics that make up the English personality. I ate my first pub dinner — Cumberland sausages and mash — I learned that right behind the Brits' dedication to the Queen is their infatuation with a baking show, “The Great British Bake Off,” and that afternoon tea is actually way more than just tea.
On Saturday, Elise and I rode to Hampshire, a county on the southern coast of England, where Jane Austen’s house museum is. As I walked through Austen’s home, passing the desk where she penned some of the most profound literature of all time, I felt starstruck by what lies outside of London and how incredible it was to remove myself from the business of the city for a bit.
For the first time in weeks, I actually felt like I was resting.
I tend to typically get caught in the day-to-day logistics of life without taking a step back to pause. In a few months, I know I’m not going to be able to take the train to Jane Austen’s house when I need a break, but I also know this behavior of recognizing when I need rest is one I need to bring home.
