What a Terrible Tragedy

Not really.

But, I am at a terrible impasse.

There are two travel studies this summer that I'm interested in.  One is to Italy for two weeks, and it's a whirlwind of art and the literature of "famous Victorian British travelers, including Charles Dickens, Robert Browning, George Eliot, and others, who wrote about Italy in travel narratives, novels, and poetry."  From what I remember, the cities we'd hit are Milan, Venice, Rome, Florence, and Assisi.  Two weeks of nonstop action.



On the other end is England for nearly four weeks, living at Oxford (That's right, University of Oxford) and heading over to London quite often, as well as "Stonehenge, Bath, Canterbury, Dover, and more while studying Shakespeare and the gentle art of watercolor in the tradition of Turner and Constable."  Shakespeare and watercolor, and possibly, a course on one of my favorite poets, T.S. Eliot.  When I went to the UK two years ago, I had eleven days to experience all of it plus Ireland.  That meant mere days within England itself, most of which were running around London to try and cram in every touristy thing we could manage.  Hectic and stressful, and I was so tired that the later we stayed in the UK, the more delirious I got.  I learned how to sleep sitting in a coach or lying in a tiny, overnight compartment on the way to Edinburgh, Scotland.  Sometimes it felt like I was sleeping while resting on a bench in the Tower of London or standing next to the Thames, looking out at Tower Bridge.


Clearly, I have some history with England.  Not only within my own experience, but over half of my ancestry is English.  I can't help but feel connected to the Motherland, so to speak.


One day, I looked out of my window here in Virginia.  It was a grey, rainy day, much like today, and I glanced at the sky, at the bumpy, brown horizon line, and I thought I was in Scotland.  I don't know why.  I had just woken from a nap, which probably explains why I wasn't in my head completely and why I felt, even for a millisecond, that I was somewhere I wasn't.  I was in Scotland, and then I did a double-take and I was back in Virginia.


I do the same thing with England, usually on rainy days like today.  I step out and there's a ghost of a breath dissolving in front of my face, and the ghosts of other breaths hanging fragile in the air; collected moisture, from all those who breathed in that space before me.  And I feel like I'm in England, but I always realize that I'm not because the ghosts in the air don't taste the same.  They taste like Virginia and America and the other students that walked that way before me.  It doesn't taste like the perfume my ancestors wore or my own excitement of being free.


So yes, I will always have deep love for the UK, and there's no question that I would adore every blessed moment in England.  Like I said, I didn't get to visit Stonehenge or Bath or the cliffs of Dover when I was there.  It's not like I would be retracing my steps or not seeing anything new.  Although even that would be exciting for me.


But I have been to England.  Maybe not to Oxford or Bath, maybe not carrying a watercolor case and paper, but I've been.


And Italy, I haven't.  I have no idea what the air in Italy might taste like, or what kind of incredible adventures I might be able to take part in.  


Or what hot Italian men I might be able to make the acquaintance of.

WHERE IS ITALY GET ME THERE IMMEDIATELY

So, I'm torn.  As a hopeful world traveller, should I try to get as many countries under my belt as possible, or as an English major and English girl at heart, should I take another trip back to the Motherland and explore it further?  Clearly, there's the price and things like that to consider (Italy is quite a bit cheaper), but that's because it's shorter.  And I know that the whirlwind kind of adventure is exciting but supremely exhausting, and it'd be stressful enough being in a country where I don't understand anyone but my own group and the random Italians that have picked up enough English to harass me about buying something.


You guys tell me.  England or Italy?  Four weeks or two?  Watercolor or Renaissance Art History?  Victorian or Elizabethan?

Also, I feel the need to warn you.  Prepare yourself for something amazing to be revealed in my next post.  It involves my friends and cool things and this blog, and if you can't connect those dots then you haven't read my last post, and shame on you for that!

Now, get outta here, you crazy.