For the Love of England
/
The very first meal I ate on British soil came from a food
cart near a sidewalk on a busy street in London. The man who sold it to me (30
pence!) wore a newspaperman’s cap and got impatient with me when I couldn’t
figure out the coins.
Nothing fancy, nothing exotic. Just a slice of cheddar
cheese squished between two slices of white bread with maybe a little butter on
it, but I’ll let you in on a little secret: it was the best sandwich I’ve ever
eaten.
I was a 21-year-old college student, far away from my family
for the first time and had just flown across the Atlantic with the group from
my college with whom I’d be studying and sharing the summer. First stop: London.
My roommate and I dropped our bags in our hotel room,
grabbed the girls from across the hall, and headed out to explore. None of us
had been in London before, and none of us had any clue where we were going, but,
armed with a few pounds in our pockets and an insatiable sense of independence,
we ventured forth.
To the sandwich cart on the street below.
And that’s pretty much where our independent adventure ended
for the day because as we were munching on white bread sandwiches, jet lag hit
us right between the eyes and none of us could walk a step further.
But in that moment, sun streaming down on us (confusing me
even further because isn’t London supposed to be rainy?), I fell in love. And
this has been a love story that has spanned nearly three decades and six visits
(and counting!).
I’m not sure I’d consider myself an Anglophile. I know some
things about the United Kingdom, but not as much as a true Anglophile would.
I’ve visited a few times and have a pretty good understanding of how to get
around, even while driving on the left-hand side of the road. But I’m often
overcome by how much I don’t know about England and how much I’d still like to
know. So I don’t call myself an Anglophile (too often, anyway).
What I do know is this: a long time ago I visited a place
that captured my heart. A place that I have shared with many and still wish to
share with others. A place that is as calming and as beautiful and as
soul-saddening as any I’ve ever visited. A place that calls my name every year
about this time.
I’d like to share a little bit of my love for that place
with you over the next few weeks in a series I’m calling “For the Love of
England.” I hope you’ll come along as I explain why I love
that place and why I keep going back. Maybe you'll fall in love too!
In the meantime, tell
me . . . is there a place that has gotten under your skin? Where is it and why
do you love it? Share in the comments!
