The Week's Tales, Part 2

Continuing my description of the week:

On Sunday, I got up and made my way to church around 11AM. Interesting thing, though, is that as it was ending I gathered up my things and made my way towards the door so I could get started on the afternoon's sight-seeing. One of the deacons stopped me, shook my hand, but was surprised that I was leaving so soon. I was mildly confused, but the pastor was nearby and mentioned that in the States people usually leave right after church. I found out that Bethesda has a tea and coffee fellowship after their service. I'm not sure if this is standard for English churches-- in fact, I'd wager it's not because this church seems particularly intent on having its members together outside of church services.

In the afternoon, I took the Tube over near the Thames River and found the house were Benjamin Franklin stayed for 16 years. Because I had twenty minutes to kill before the tour started at 2PM and hadn't eaten lunch, I took my peanut butter and jelly sandwich and wandered up the streets a little ways to find a place to sit down. And what did I happen upon? Trafalgar Square! I had no idea it was nearby and just randomly found it. So I found a place along the side, ate my sandwich, and watched all the tourists running around. It was a neat experience.

The tour was a multimedia presentation taking visitors back to Franklin's time. I felt like I was there it was put together so well! Again, I was fascinated that my footsteps were creaking the same boards that Ben's did over 200 years ago.

Afterwards, I went back to Trafalgar Square, took some pictures (which are on the broken computer...), and wandered back to the Thames River to search for Cleopatra's Needle, an obelisk purchased in the mid-1800s by Great Britain to celebrate recent war victories. It had a little scaffolding by it, so I couldn't see everything, but it was pretty neat.

I went back for the church's afternoon service at 4PM and afterwards we went to the park for a picnic. The pastor's wife and I stopped at Subway to get sandwiches-- did you know you can put corn on a sandwich here? Or, that jalapeno peppers are called chiles? After arriving at Kensington Park, we ate and later started up a game of volleyball. They just had a ball, so we made do with boundaries marked by purses and an imaginary net. It was so fun!

As I found my way back to the flat, I was sad. The day was beautiful and I got to spend it with some great people, but I was sad that I wasn't at home. I wasn't out back of our church playing volleyball with my sister and her pals or going out to Dairy Queen some Sunday night with a few church families. Walking through the park to the Tube by myself, I smelled a barbecue grill and very much wanted to be back home with my family, my mom making her burgers on the grill for a typical cook out meal. Here in London I feel like I'm missing the very essence of summer-- hot, humid days, tall glasses of iced tea or lemonade, ice cream bars, lightening bugs, stars late at night, Alabama trips, church work nights, late night TV, bickering siblings, boredom. None of that is here. Summer is...well, I don't know what summer is here. I don't know what winter is either. I don't know a lot of things.

And so the weekend ended. It was neat, and I got to do some very cool things, but while I've adjusted to living here, I know there's always that nagging feeling of being abroad, of not being present for things at home. It's always there, and the strangest things trigger a desire to be back. Eight weeks tomorrow.