So I noticed that it's been over a month since my last blog post.

All I can say is: wow. I can't believe it's been a whole month. That being said, I can't believe I've been an ex-patriot for 5 months. Time has stopped making much sense to me outside of so-and-so is leaving in two days etc. The most frightening acknowledgment of time is that I leave in two weeks. Back to the reality and responsibility of work, school (because who am I kidding when i say I'm "studying abroad"?) family, and relationships that last more than five months. And as my extended vacation draws to a close, I have inevitably been thinking about what my time in London has been worth. Not just because in order to get credit for this semester, I have to write a paper about this, but also because reflection is one of those habits people stumble into when they're about to make a big change in their life.

No memorial in Berlin dedicated to the Jewish people who died during the Holocaust will be uncontroversial. In fact, a lot of people will hate it.

I, however, found the Holocaust Memorial built by Peter Eisenman and Buro Happold provocative and moving. My hostel tour group was brought there one gray Tuesday afternoon. The tour guide gave a brief blurb of information and then allowed us to explore.

A List of Lessons Learned in London (that don't deserve their own blogpost)

1. Tea shops need more than one bathroom stall.

2. There's a law that says a business isn't allowed to stay open for more than 6 hours on Sunday, with the exception of Tesco, which is always 24 hours regardless of outdated Christian laws.

3. Meal Deals are life-savers (2 pound 50 for a sandwich, drink, and chips)

4. Don't bother trying to convert pounds to dollars. The amount of money you're spending will drive you crazy if you think too hard about it.

5. London is expensive.

The Middle

The Missourian writer “Mark Twain,” (or Samuel Clemens), could be easily recognized by admirers on the East Coast by his wardrobe: a bear skin coat and coon cap. Of course, no sane person in Missouri would ever have worn this outfit, but Samuel Clemens embraced the stereotype that the high society readers from New York or Boston held about Westerners. About a hundred years before Twain, Ben Franklin performed the same charade for the Frenchmen who believed all Americans were rugged outdoorsmen.

Now, I wouldn’t go so far as to say that people in London are surprised I’m not wearing a raccoon on my head, but I have had to come to terms with the fact that a person from the Midwest is held under certain stereotypes.