With my return to America drawing ever nearer, the past few days have taken on a decidedly nostalgic tone. But not nostalgic like the end of summer camp nostalgic. Nine months of experiences can't be distilled into a 2 hour "sharing" time with other campers. Instead, what could best be described as a subdued hysteria has enveloped 67 Homefield Rd. People are almost fearful of uttering the words "Tuesday," "America," or "going home." Last night, we all presented our "I, Traveler" papers, which were about how we grew as travelers throughout the year. I sort of dreaded what looked to be one last drawn out class period, but it actually turned out to be incredibly fascinating and fun to hear everyone's various stories of travel and growth. My paper was about the differences between traveling England and Europe, and how England becoming my home affected that. So cool to hear all of these insights into people that hadn't really made it out before.
After 8 hours spent cleaning the flat, we all got dressed up and went out to a fancy dinner at Ben Bowers, a pretty schnazzy Notts restaurant, courtesy of Mark and Carol. Following our return to the flat, we had what is probably the closest we'll get to a "sharing" session. Mark and Carol shared some remarks on the year, which were at times both extremely funny and tear-jerkingly (literally) poignant. Mark wrote a limerick for everyone of us, while Carol gave out "awards." I was named the "hardcore traveller," the "dreamer with le mot just," and the "intense historian." I also had my baseball playing and tromboning mentioned. Much as Mark and Carol have frustrated me this year in terms of trip planning and vague essay assignments, let's face it. Not only have they directed the program, taught the classes, and led us around England, they've also been our surrogate parents. I will genuinely miss their educated wit, fresh perspective, and general good naturedness. This year would have not been the same without them, no doubt. And I thank them so much.
Anyways, Kate is leaving early this morning to head to France for a month in Grenoble, so tonight is our last night as "the Nine." Being a geek, I always equated us nine travelers with the nine members of the Fellowship in Lord of the Rings. Nine companions on an epic journey in a foreign land, unsure of what the future held. We came from different backgrounds, we came with different interests and talents. Nine people who could not be more different, people I would never have dreamt of associating with at Luther. But like the Fellowship, our travels and adventures bonded us. Over coffee at Starbucks, innumerable bottles of cheap wine in overwhelming European cities, pints of ale at the Lion, and the common fate of being stuck as travelers in a land other than our own, we became family. We even had semi-serious discussions about getting the word "nine" or Roman numeral tattooed on our feet. So, it's a pretty emotional night, the Fellowship being broken, so to speak. Kevin and Mary made a movie consisting of music, video, and photos from the year which we sat down and watched. It was so cool to reminisce as a group, to see from the present the many adventures and experiences we've had together throughout the year. Nine of us, plus two directors. Missing even a single one would have lessened all that has happened. It is always sad to say goodbye to people you love, and it will be very difficult to confront that when we finally part ways on Tuesday for good. Actually, difficult cannot even begin to describe it. I've always been an only child, but I now feel like I'm going to be torn away from brothers and sisters. From good friends. Not the friends that you see once or twice a month, or have a class with, or sometimes stop over to chat. No, these eight other people are the friends that really matter.
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