emeroo abroad: chapter one

Photography - @joseeedge

It feels like it's been a HOT MINUTE since I was quite comfortably trapped inside my grandparents house by heaps of snow, forced to do nothing but write and plan for this moment. Now I'm here, writing to you in yet another room I've never been in before. That pretty much sums up my life the last two weeks. Very seldom am I entering rooms and spaces I could call familiar, and it's absolutely magical. There's a constant sense of awe underneath my skin that emanates every time I encounter a new window to look through or new couch to get comfortable on. The room I'm currently in, a relaxing space made up of plush Easter colours and sandy beach wood, contrasts with the world outside in the cold. A world full of gnarled trees, and wind battered brick. It's the difference between bubblegum and crisp grass on either side of the window I'm gazing through.

The everyday requirement for adjustments since I landed at Gatwick airport has kept me on my toes. It's difficult to feel homesick when you're constantly excited to see what's on the other side of so many thresholds. In high school I was taught the symbolic meaning of thresholds, but never fully understood it until now. Every single day that I spend in my new home, I'm exposing myself to future friends I'll know for the rest of my life, situations that will likely make me uncomfortable and wiser, and places I might one day deem familiar. And all these things are on the other side of various thresholds, whether that be literal or symbolic. It's an incredible feeling not to have any idea of what's coming.

I promise not all of the "chapters" of my adventure will be as self-reflective, but this journey has just begun! You can't blame me for getting a little bit philosophical.

The pictures you see here were taken in the beautiful town of St.Albans, a place I very much plan on re-visiting. When you're wondering (and let's be honest, tripping) down a cobblestone ally-way, listening to a busker sing Back to Black, with your friend by your side, it doesn't matter how unbelievably cold you are. You soak it in. You learn to love the less than ideal moments, such as waiting two hours for a bus you've already missed twice, shivering while you sing along to Queen to pass the time. You learn to ponder ancient art and appreciate architecture that's older than the country I call home.

I still have so much to soak in, so many conversations to have, and so many adventures to share with you. So, stay tuned!