1st Trip to London (Notting Hill Carnival)

When I decided to start this blog I had two main purposes. First, to document everything I experience so one day if I find myself in a tight place I might look back and remember my youth. And second, to enable my friends and family to live vicariously through my journey through Great Britain. After several semi-depressing entries regarding the visa troubles and overall unpleasant experiences, I decided it was time to write about something... well... different.

Today I woke up thinking that I might walk around campus a bit and perhaps go to the gas station for a snack. By eleven o'clock I was walking towards Bracknell (the large town next to Binfield) with a group headed towards London to an area called Notting Hill. Of course, all I knew about this was from the few clips I've seen in the movie with Hugh Grant and Julia Roberts. A girl from Canada invited me and several others to go into Notting Hill today for what is called the Notting Hill Carnival that happens once a year.

To give you a little history, the carnival started in the 60s by British immigrants. After World War 2 the British realized that a huge portion of the population had been wiped out and they needed to bring immigrants into the country to fill jobs. So, they started passing out green cards to essentially anyone who was breathing.

Nearly 20 years later, the African population in the city began battling it out for their freedom with the government and this parade was the product of their protest.

It started out as a very violent festival of angry immigrants seeking justice (which resulted in lots of stabbings and other violent acts at the carnival). Today, it's just an excuse to blast rhythmic music and dress in fanciful attire while trash ing the streets of Notting Hill with food, beer cans, and empty stolen purses.

(From Left: Karlee, Susanne, and Sophia)

The size of the crowd that covered about six square blocks

(Karlee and Kasyn)

He was strapped into a huge pair of wings and was falling over

He was dressed up as some kind of Egyptian animal king with bad make-up, a belly hanging out, and lots of animal print

After wandering around the parade for several hours, we went into Central London and stopped in a hidden courtyard (Kingly Court) from some smoothies and tea.

[From Left: Susanne (Norway), Synne (Norway), Lars (Norway), Karlee (California), Katharina (Germany), Mark (England/Pakistan), Sophia (Korea), Kasyn (Canada), and Michelle (England/Pakistan)]

Mark and Michelle are siblings and Mark was our unofficial tour guide during the whole outing. He lives in Binfield but studied in London for four years and knows his way around everywhere. At the end of the day with our legs incredibly soar from walking, we finally got to the river to see none else but Big Ben, Parliament, and The London Eye.

This is the London I came to see.

Hold-up at Customs

Standing in the line at customs in the London Heathrow airport is a bit like being cornered. You get narrowed down one by one in a tight line and it's all up in the air as to what kind of customs officer you'll be dealing with. There was a young hispanic woman I was crossing my fingers to get - she smiled and seemed pleasant enough. But it was finally my turn for the next available customs officer that, I kid you not, looked like Hitler himself. I told him I was a student hoping to get into the country on a Student Visitors Visa and handed him my passport and paperwork. At first it seemed to be a breeze, but when he found out after scanning the barcode on my passport that I had been denied a Student Visa he got a sour expression on his face:

"You know love, it's quite ridiculous thinking that you can just come in on a Student Visitor's Visa after being denied a Student Visa. How ever am I going to believe that you're just coming in for a few months?" (Who knew they could look up all my immigration history?)

"Well, I have purchased my plane ticket for my return home in December..." I started a list of reasons why it shouldn't be a problem when he interrupted me.

"Yes, but how am I to know that you aren't going to stay past that? I'll tell you right now it doesn't look good. You'll probably be denied."

He quickly scrambled to fill out a sheet of paper saying that I was being held for further examination, took my passport and said he would return soon.

It's been a long time since I've bargained with God in a tight spot, but while my blood pressure soared through the roof and I started sweating the pleas just flowed out of me. Ten minutes later he returned and summoned me to his post at customs.

"What I'm trying to understand here is how I'm to know this school really even exists? I mean, why would you plan to come for a whole year and just change your mind to just come a semester? We don't even use that term in England, semester."

I started spouting off everything I knew about the college, it's association with Andrews University, and the Seventh-day Adventist Conference. Again, he interrupted me and ran off into a back room again, saying something about how he had to look something up on the internet.

At this point I was sure he was going ship me back to the states. I sat down for just a few minutes this time. When he came back out again he showed me my passport with a "Student Visitor's Visa" stamp in it. Giving no explanation, he told me to never ever do this again while he hurried me through the gates at customs.

I had little time to process what had just happened and say a few prayers of thanksgiving while I rushed down to baggage claim to pick up my luggage. It wasn't on any of the carousels so I went over to a luggage help desk and waited for them to locate my suitcases on the other side of the baggage claim area. I wrestled my 50 pound bags and two large carry-ons onto a cart and headed for the exit.

The problem with customs taking over an hour to go through and having to locate all of my luggage was that there was a gentleman from the college waiting outside baggage claim to pick me up. When I finally got out to the international flight lobby he wasn't there. No sign that said "Newbold College" - nothing! Come to find out, he had waited an hour until the announcer said that all passengers from United flight 938 were gone. He went back to the campus.

It's nearly impossible to get ahold of anyone on a Saturday at a Seventh-day Adventist institution, but an hour later my parents finally located the driver back at school and asked him to come back out and get me.

So nearly three hours after arriving at the airport, I was finally on my way back to the school with a nice-enough man from Croatia (though he charged me double for having to come out to the airport again after leaving the first time - 50 pounds, over 80 dollars for a 30 minute ride).

So now, the real adventure beings - finding food and getting over jet-lag!

The Trip Over

The two days before leaving last Friday consisted of packing, weighing, unpacking, and packing again ten times over. At the beginning of the summer I had a brilliant idea to save room in my suitcases - Space Bags. The problem with this is that while it gave me extra room, everything inside my suitcases weighed the same. And when my suitcases, empty, each weigh over 15 pounds, that's a problem. So it was my first adventure - how to get everything I need for a year into three suitcases.

However, this feat was eventually accomplished and my bags weighed in at the airport at 49.4 and 49.8 pounds - just under the 50 pound limit.

The morning of my trip over went great. I woke up refreshed and ready to take on the world. I had a breakfast of sorbet and oatmeal. Elliot gave me a shirt with one of London's famous phone booths on it and I was ready to go.

My flight from Spokane to London consisted of one flight from Spokane to Chicago in one of the tiniest United Express planes i've ever flown in. There were about 15 rows back with four seats across and I sat next to a real nice older gentleman from Spokane flying to see his children in Kentucky. My connecting flight from Chicago went straight to London. I've flown an international to Peru before in a much smaller plane than the one I was about to get on. It was sevens seats across with two aisles and individual television monitors. After I had sat down in my seat and the plane was about ready for take-off, a young British girl - Tessie - ran in swearing and sat down next to me.

She was quite friendly, giving me all kinds of advice about being an American and living in the UK (she was a dual citizen herself). We had two meals on the plane and watched several movies while talking about college, literature, and the difference between cookies, biscuits and scones. The flight was only eight hours and I was thrilled to be landing - little did I know there would be trouble around the bend.

Visa Troubles

Taking time out of a normal American life and traveling to another country for an extended period of time can be sneaky. You never think there are going to be complications until they come jumping out behind corners and out of dark alleyways.

I am always over-prepared for everything. I pack way too much in my luggage, I email lengthy inquiries to triple-check what I already know. Sometimes it can take the joy out of spontaneous adventure because, well, nothing is spontaneous about it. But I can't sleep at night unless I know everything is in order.

Five months ago, April 2009, I began preparation for my Student Visa from the UK Boarder Agency. I was making calls overseas at 2 am, calling my bank every week, emailing throughout the day to try to get my Student Visa sent in with all the proper paperwork and in enough time to get an answer from them before I leave. At the end of June I finally had everything I needed: transcripts, letters of recommendation, bank statements, bank letters, passports old and new and then some. A month and a half later I received a notice on my door step that I had a package from the UK Boarder Agency waiting for me at UPS. I rushed down to open it with excitement wondering, "What does a Student Visa look like?" "How did my picture turn out?" "Will they send me my paperwork back?"

As soon as I opened the package, there it was - REFUSED ENTRY CLEARANCE. And you know the saying, "It's all downhill from there..." My life is no exception.

I have no choice but to go into the UK on a Student Visitor Visa - very different from a Student Visa. So after a summer of no work, I will not be able to get a job in the UK, I have to return to my home country within six months, and I have to buy a plane ticket home before I leave after already being out $250 for the first Student Visa application that was refused.

I tried calling the school - they tried calling the UK Boarder Agency only to get an automated telephone service. I tried visiting both of my State Senators' Offices - they tried telling a foreign government (the British no less) to let me into their country only to get laughed at by the state department. I tried sending in an Administrative Review for an appeal - they told me I wasn't qualified for a review because I was denied my Student Visa (it didn't make sense to me either).

What a first impression of a country I will be spending the next 10 months in.

Oh yes, and in the mail Saturday I receive my first Jury Duty Notice, six days before I'm supposed to be in another country. Is this a sign?

Three days until I leave.

A little background...

This last year I was a freshman at Walla Walla University in College Place, WA.

About eight months ago I was sitting in my dorm room reviewing my results from a career test I took in our school Career Counseling Center. You see, I am still a declared "Undecided" major with absolutely no idea as to what I am going to do with my life. About half-way through the year the college sends out a letter in a panic to all students that have yet to decide what they are going to do with the rest of their life at the ripe age of 19 - or at least the students who admit to not being set on a major and are still "Undecided".

The Career Center gave me a 30 minute questionnaire digging deep into my personal likes and dislikes (such as my favorite time of day, weekend activities, and social situational preferences). They then match these answers to other professionals' answers to give you some idea of what you might enjoy. The results were as follows:

1. Attorney

2. Librarian

3. Minister

First, while I may be strong willed, I fear not being right. The mere fact that there is an official opposing side in law invites the possibility of another person having a better grip on reality than I, which means someone else might be victorious in any given scenario.

I therefore ruled out Attorney.

Second, while I am a devout introvert, I do not need any help nurturing this character trait (though I would make a fantastically alluring librarian).

I therefore ruled out Librarian.

Third, my father is a minister. The desire is already in me to lead a congregation and inspire change. But it was just too suspicious that this result was on my top three. After the complete hit-and-miss of the first two.

I have yet to rule out Minister.

As I was sitting in my room I knew I had go somewhere other than WWU. My options were:

1. France

2. Spain

I have taken Spanish two years in high school and with our ever evolving bilingual nation, this would be an obvious first choice. However, I spent the past year in college in an incredible French class with Jean-Paul. After a few moments of contemplation the choice was clear: Newbold College - 40 miles west of London. This may not seem to you as evident a decision as it seemed to me, but at the time it was clear. Admittedly it is rather irrational, but several thousand pounds and a nonrefundable plane ticket later - I am going.

I officially have 5 days (and 1 hour) until I leave.