Last night I had settled in and commenced “freaking the fuck out”. Wondering why I’m here, instead of just about anywhere else. Where I really want to be is home with people (and cat) I love and care about. I’d even settle for back in the French countryside where I’ve loved whiling the last few days away in the blossoming garden of a friend’s villa, listening to her stories, and laughing what felt like continuously and a little too loudly.
Maybe last night’s pissing rain was a sign of good luck for the journey ahead. Maybe living in this shit apartment with its peeling walls and its scary shrieking water heater will be great fodder for the novel I one day write about my quarter life crisis.
I called an amigo who’s doing an internship in a developing country and requested some Skype therapy. He’s having a genuinely magical summer. Not the fun and high-flying stuff you want to capture in a photo and put on facebook so that everyone else at INSEAD can see how your summer is so much cooler than their summer. But a summer of experiences that cannot be related. The conversations that last until the wee hours of the morning and have nothing to do with who’s-hooking-up-with-whom INSEAD gossip. Eating exotic fruits you don’t know the names of. Waking up with nothing to do but read Borges and stroll to the seaside market to buy clams.
I had the same panicked, sinking feeling when I first got to Fonty, which didn’t serve me well. So this morning I woke up and resolved to make this town mine.
Step 1: food. The nearest Marks&Spencer is three blocks away. The Tesco is closer, but I still have my self-respect. Soho is walking distance and has tasty pork belly. I’m still on the lookout for a Waitrose and the odd farmers’ market. The coffee is served in large cups. Heaven.
Step 2: classical music. The BBC Proms start this Friday, I’ve book-marked all the schedules for other venues and I have a list of Evensong services to attend for every night of the week.
Step 3: Art. The Royal Academy of Art Summer Exhibition blew my mind. I resolve to use this summer to make up for my philistine ways of the past six months.
It’s going to be okay. Oh, and I start my job tomorrow. Collated copies and coffee, oh boy!
Hey! Welcome to London. If you’re in NW16 then I think you’re about 5 blocks away from me! See you Wednesday!?!
And the honest breakfasts, amiga, do not forget about the honest breakfasts…
oh amigo… ‘fraid that this gringa is skipping breakfast this summer.
Better no breakfast than Mcmuffins…
tienes razon.
¡Pero el desayuno es la comida más importante del día!
[...] is) had a myriad of topics on their minds as well. INSEAD ‘09 MBAMrs, after a momentary funk, became determined to make Fontainbleu ‘hers.’ McCombs ‘10 Paragon2Pieces was thinking about money and men and asked her readers how long [...]
*London. Fontainebleau is my bitch.
this gringa won’t be eating any McMuffins this summer either…or ever again for that matter
oh good! once you’ve had the queso fresco for breakfast, there’s no way you’d crave a McMuffin.