I started going to camp when I was nine. This was proper sleep-a-way camp, eight weeks straight through, no going home for the weekends. I saw my parents once a summer, at visiting day. I was incredibly homesick. Even though, for the first two years, I had  a great time, I still begged my mom and dad to take me home. By the third summer, when the issue became something more than that, it was still assumed that I was just homesick and I should stick out the summer. I switched camps at twelve and, though I still dealt with occasional bouts of homesickness, it wasn't nearly as bad as it had been.
Flash forward to 2012. Though I went home at Christmas, I chose not to do so for the Easter holidays. Coming back from break, one of my coursemates asked how I was doing, since it had been so long since I'd been home and I do tend to miss my friends and family. The truth is, I was doing just fine until my friend Matt and his fiance Heather came to London for a few days, followed quickly by my friend David,  who spent a week with me. 
It was so great to see Matt and Heather, and to show David around my new city. I had a wonderful time. And then, Thursday morning, David got on a plane back to New York. And I cried. I cried because I was going to miss him, yes, but also because I miss everyone. It's kind of strange- I didn't go back to New York at Easter because, when I went home for Christmas, I felt like I wasn't supposed to be there. My life is meant to be in London right now and I know it. I have amazing friends, I'm seeing terrific theatre, and I'm doing good work. I know I'm supposed to be here now, but I'm missing the goings-on back home terribly. The homesickness, which somehow held itself at bay for five months, has finally reared its ugly head. I'm not ready to leave London- nowhere near, in fact. I just miss my mommy (and my dad and brother and grandparents and aunt and cousins and friends).
My grandparents and cousin Dana will be coming towards the end of next month and I'm really looking forward to seeing them. When they arrive, it will have been six and a half months since I last saw my family. That's a long, long time.
When I was a kid, I couldn't get past the homesickness. It was there, all summer long. I have enough faith in myself now that I know I can move beyond it, not let it get too much in the way. I'll be fine soon enough. London friends, I might need to lean on you a little bit more for the next couple of days. Folks back home, I love you and I miss you. 

Central is on break at the moment and I’ve taken it as an opportunity to travel. I’ve gotten myself a certificate in International Arts Management after attending conference in Vienna; explored seven museums in four days in Berlin; had a bizarre David Lynch evening in Amsterdam, which included a complete stranger getting his hand tangled in my hair, the video for Billy Joel’s “Uptown Girl,” getting hit on by a married English electrician (but not his friend, who was the reason he was talking to me in the first place), and a Native American midget with a broken arm; bought nearly forty euros worth of chocolate in Antwerp; and been kissed repeatedly by an amorous Italian on the streets of Brussels. I’m still in Brussels at the moment, though hopefully Giovanni has gone back to Italy. I’m not too enamored of Brussels, though the chocolate is to die for. I think if the weather was nicer, I’d be having a better time. Yesterday, I dodged showers in order to see Mannekin Pis. I’m glad I did; there’s no running between the raindrops today.

Traveling on my own is a challenge, not because I have difficulty keeping my own council, but because I want to share the things I’m seeing with someone else. My friend Beth was with me in Amsterdam (which was awesome for a whole host of reasons, not the least of which being, she’s really freakin’ cool), but since Monday afternoon, I’ve been alone. Tomorrow night, however, I won’t be! I’m arriving in Paris a few minutes past six, and I’ll be staying with my old friend Joyce and her lovely boyfriend Pierre.  

I can’t tell you how excited I am to be going to Paris. I’ve only been there once before, for three or so days on a family trip. I remember happening into a sale at Printemps, discovering Sephora before it was on every corner in New York, eating sushi (tres Francais, non?), going up the Eiffel Tower, and going to EuroDisney. This is going to be a very different visit. I’d still like to hit up Sephora if we have the chance, but only because I’m running low on foundation. This time around, I’m hoping to go to the Louvre, see Notre Dame and Monmartre, go to Mariage Freres for tea, and (if I have the time and the weather cooperates) visit Versailles. Of course, I’ll only be there until Monday, so chances are I won’t be able to do everything. My guess is, Versailles will be the thing I’ll miss.

One of the things that I’m really psyched about is being with Joyce. I’ve not seen her since September and I’m really looking forward to catching up with her. She’s been living in Paris for almost two years now (I think), so she’s got the proverbial lay of the land. I’m hoping to see the city through her eyes a bit. It’s funny; the first time I traveled alone, it was to visit Joyce in London, and now I’m visiting her in Paris with London as my home base. Weird.