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July 10, 2012 / Stephanie Vermillion

When the City of London starts to feel like home

There’s something appealing and oh-so-chic about being a Londoner. While I’ll in no way, shape, or form ever truly be part of this group (I still can’t distinguish my pence), I realized today that I’m getting pretty close for a Midwesterner who can’t say football without picturing Tom Brady.

Beautiful run through Hyde Park, London

The combination of knowing the city and interning daily 9-5:30 has me more comfortable with London and feeling like I fit in than I had ever imagined. Here are just some of the many reasons I’m starting to call London my home (that is until I move to my beautiful Mt. Adams apartment, of course!):

–       My last few dreams in Ireland were of The Crofton, which I never realized I’d miss until being overseas without my own bed, without my hot shower and without that runner’s paradise of Hyde Park down the street

–       The Tube is no longer a novelty, and “mind the gap” isn’t cute – it’s a sign I have to put my head down and plow through sweaty bodies so I don’t miss my stop 

–       Lunch break isn’t just eating, it’s an experience, especially when spent with co-workers sitting outside in downtown London, listening to free live music and chatting about upcoming weekend plans

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Albert Memorial

–       I’m starting to have “my spots,” the places I migrate to subconsciously because it’s what I’m used to. Back in Boston I had a certain spot I’d sit by the Charles to read, and I never, ever sat anywhere else. Kind of weird, (never claimed to be normal) but I have those same spots here, most notably the Albert Memorial in Hyde Park where I stretch after a run or soak up any sign of London sun

–       Weather is becoming my go-to topic, not because I can’t think of anything else to talk about, but seriously, it’s a big deal here (even the BBC says so). Just like complaining about the Tube, you can make friends with the most unexpected people your first few days at work just by joking about the most recent torrential downpour(s)

Sure, these are pretty typical for a long-term traveler, and I may never be a true-to-form Londoner. But if the next four weeks are anything like the past few days, I may come home with the hint of a British accent and a (hatred of transit, habit of saying “bloody hell”).

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