As I may have mentioned once or twice in the course of this year, I have not had a lot of exposure to life outside the Southeast. This is not to say that I have never left the South -- I went to Alaska on a cruise with my family when I was nine.
This was not an entirely positive experience. I never could get used to the sunlight streaming in my cabin at 4 a.m. (trust me, "Land of the Midnight Sun" is NOT as cool as it sounds) and part of me never really got why we were in Alaska in the first place. I feel like people spend their lives trying to get out of Alaska, and here was my family, dressed up in faux Eskimo clothing, traipsing around the frozen wasteland like it was Disney World.
In the process of traipsing, every member of my family managed to suffer an only slightly less-than-mortal injury. We spent most of our time in the cruise infirmary with a "doctor" who, under ordinary circumstances, I wouldn't have trusted to fold my socks, much less examine me. In retrospect, the only rational explanation is that we went for the food, which was put out trough-style for the cruisers to snarf down about once every four minutes. God, it was delicious. ... but I still would not consider it sufficient justification for a trip outside the continental U.S.
My Alaska trip pretty much curbed any enthusiasm I had for long-distance travel at a very young age. Unlike some of my friends, who had aspirations of backpacking across Europe with only a couple of dollars, a trusty goat and some sort of primitive medicine man (a cruise doctor perhaps?), I was content to spend my summers at home sprawled out on the beach getting quasi-tan. Any previous desire to go to Europe about equaled my desire to give up my collection of mesh hats and Polos and transfer to Virginia Tech.
I can't point to any single factor that made me decide to forego my tradition of basking and burning all summer for taking a class in England. It could've been the influence of my friends, most of whom are going to study in Spain this summer. Still, I really doubt this is the reason. It is my personal belief that some of them are not going to make it through the full five-week program.
These friends are staying with Spanish families, and I'm inclined to think the first time one of them stumbles in drunk and passes out in someone's paella, she is going to be back stateside faster than you can say Jose Cuervo. I have my own concerns about this. The first night I arrive at Oxford, I am supposed to go out and drink with my fellow classmates and professors. All signs point to my Euro-nervousness leading to inappropriate drunkenness and spending the rest of the trip labeled as "that girl." Wouldn't be a first.
Some might suggest that it is my desire to explore a new culture that is leading me to England this summer, but I think that would be kind of a stretch. I have actually begun to have nightmares about England. I keep dreaming that I can't communicate with anyone, despite the fact that everyone speaks English. This dream terrifies me, and I don't find it preposterous in the slightest. In fact, I think it is a startlingly legitimate fear considering my slight Southern drawl and my inability to understand the dialogue in "Love Actually" and "Bend it Like Beckham."
Speaking of Beckham, it might be the possibility of going to a new country full of hot, eligible boys that is drawing me across the pond. Believe it or not, Jude Law, Prince William and a certain Englishman I met at U.Va. this year definitely do it for me.
What doesn't do it for me is the music I've been informed is played at clubs in Europe. I do not enjoy techno and seriously doubt that I could woo any self-respecting male of any citizenship by dancing to it. There goes my chance with the English fellows. My dancing style (and, okay, my lifestyle) is not conducive to incredibly fast movement. I prefer to put my body on auto-shimmy and let people watch. Doing anything else would likely result in me looking like a tripped-out hedgehog. Not so sexy.
I guess the real reason I am going to board two planes and cross an ocean this summer is simply because I never have. As the school year, my first half of college and my "teenage-hood" wind down, I have become increasingly aware that certain parts of my life are ending and some opportunities may not knock twice.
I feel like now is the time to do some stuff that is a little scary, whether it be exposing yourself to something new, getting right with something old or yes, even leaving behind the beloved South for the sake of new experiences (techno dancing and accent adjusting included). Things could get kind of shady, and it's debatable whether I even have the sense to make it to Oxford on time. But whatever happens, I can promise you this: It'll make for a hell of a story in the fall.
Good luck on finals, play around this summer and thanks for reading.
Erin's column runs biweekly on Mondays. She can be reached at gaetz@cavalierdaily.com.
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