Conclusion

The snow, the cold.... no, it's not England, it's the American Northeast.

Sitting in the airplane, it still hasn't hit me that I'm leaving. My boyfriend, his family, my co-workers, my flatmates, my friends, the BMX bikes in the living room, Daisy's Pub, the yellow double-decker buses, sausage rolls, TopShop, Lemsips, Grazia magazine, and Orange Wednesdays becoming an ocean away every second.

Arrival is bittersweet. American accents greet me in Detroit, Michigan, my layover, but under less than fortunate circumstances. With almost three feet of snow halting life in cities in New England, the airport is a circus. I'm surrounded by unhappy Christmas travelers. Some crying in corners with bags of overpriced airport crap littered at their feet. Others pacing back and forth with rage, vented on their cell phones. Most are sleeping on the floor, or waiting dead-eyed and defeated in long customer service lines. Merry Christmas, anyone?

Soon I join the hundreds of stranded, as I miss my connecting flight to Cincinnati, although it's not weather related, I'm just fucking retarded (long story that I'm not getting into). I make my way to Holiday Inn Express via shuttle and sleep.

I wake up. It's 4 a.m. I don't need to be up until 6:30. And I know I'm going to continue to be on London time for a while. Luckily, I make my flight and in an hour my dad's greeting me at Northern Kentucky Airport. I find myself secretly observing everyone around me, trying to soak up middle America.

The weather is cold. The streets are clear but snow is firmly planted on every unploughed surface. Usually when I come home for Christmas from California, I'm freezing. But having lived in the ice and snow for the past months, I'm just fine, warmer even.

We get home, pick up my brother and head for an early breakfast at Frisch's Big Boy, an All-American classic. The white wedge-capped, red checkered, doe-eyed plastic Big Boy in front is oddly comforting. I order a Number One: two eggs, hash browns, bacon and toast but then instantly crave England's HP brown sauce, a tangy dark barbecue-like breakfast condiment that I've grown to love. And then I sadly realize I'm never going to have a Full English Breakfast from my work ever again.

My mom comes home from work around 7 p.m. And we have our Christmas celebration. They've saved the presents until my return. I tell them of my experiences, the differences, the weather. I tell them how on Christmas Day my boyfriend, his mom, her husband, and myself broke open traditional crackers, which are small cardboard rolls filled with a joke, a small toy, and shiny crown to wear, and they find the shiny hats a funny tradition, just as I do.

Sitting besides the Christmas tree, surrounded by my loving family, scratching our traditional Christmas lottery ticket games (I only won $7, but two years ago I won $275), I know it's good to be home.

Being away made me realize how much I love America. How proud I am to be an American.

Only now, as I sit here writing my thoughts do I get the full effect this trip has had on me. How this trip has become an eye-opener to the American-way, as well as the English-way.

How lucky people in America are to be in school until 18. Sixteen, the age where the required schooling is finished in England, seems too early to know what direction you want to take, or if you want to go to continue school or not.

I think of how lucky America is to have such a vast and diverse homeland. Where we can travel from coast to coast experiencing so many different climates, accents, lifestyles, without a passport or changing currency. Yet, I find it incredibly amazing that people in England have so many countries to explore just a short jump across the English channel.

I've realized how wasteful I have been. How in England, my flatmates always turned off all the lights in the house when they didn't need them, how they hung there clothes to dry instead of a using a dryer, how they did the washing up by hand and not by dishwasher. How each individual electrical outlet had an on-off switch to conserve energy. How the recycling bin was far more larger than the rubbish bin.

Walking around in the Kentucky malls, I notice the the same stores and the same clothes for sale as in England, yet all the people surrounding me are dressed completely different. I miss the fashion forward people of England. I'd say their style is most like New York fashion, where it's less about conformity and looking "hot" but more about individuality and standing out. There wasn't a day that went by in England where I wouldn't see a bald girl or a bright pink dye-job. And it wasn't like you had to be in the right trendy, scene place to see that, it was simply country-wide fashion.

I remember vividly a cold day in England, walking along the beach listening to Pink Floyd's The Dark Side of the Moon, and more specifically the lyrics, 'Hanging on in quiet desperation is the English way'. Now, having been and lived it, was it, in fact, true? And yes, in a way, those lines seem suiting. Behind the exciting football games, hipster hangouts, lush countryside and pub quizzes there seemed to be an element of desperation or sadness, especially on the cold, rainy days. Seasonal depression, they call it. When waking up to gray skies day after day zaps the happiness out of life.

Every other week, it seemed, whether it was at work or at home, I would hear news of someone leaving, going on holiday, trying to escape. In America, you may go on a vacation for a week or two, but in England it seemed people, not rich, just your average Englishmen, would go away for months at a time. I clearly remember telling a friend about my impending trip to Australia with my family. When I told her we'd be there for two weeks, she was dumbfounded. "That's it?" Well yeah, I think that's pretty long.

I don't think America is better and I don't think England is either. I'm simply content with my life, my country, and that I have the means to travel and see my home from another perspective. This journey has made me grow as a person, has helped the transition from college student to adult, has solidified my relationship with my boyfriend, and has brought me new friends and family that I will remember forever.

Although I've spent almost all my money and have to endure the stressful task of relocating back to Long Beach, CA and reestablish myself all over again, this trip was definitely a success and something I'm proud of myself for doing.

Thanks to all who have followed my journey on this blog, and who have given me support throughout. I will post again if I decide to continue writing about my trip to Australia and moving back to Long Beach. This was meant to only be about England, but we'll see!

Also, I had the opportunity to write an article about my birthday trip to Brighton Beach for TeaTime-Mag, a free, online magazine to help people learn English. My piece should be in the January issue, so I will keep everyone updated.

Cheers! x

♡ - Kristen