I've Lived a Thousand Lives...

"Good friends, good books, and a sleepy conscience: this is the ideal life"

- Mark Twain

The hardest part about this trip was not the fear of the seven hour plane ride, nor was it being in another country for three weeks. Rather, it was deciding on which books I was going to bring along. I remember my first plane ride by myself when I was much younger. I was going to Ohio to visit my aunt and uncle and I was scared because it was the biggest trip on my own. However, I brought a book (sadly I can't recall which) to help me through the experience. From then on, every flight I've ever taken I've had a novel by my side.

The day before departing Duluth, I choose "White Tiger" and "The Sun Also Rises," the former I have completed before. Never did I think that in the first week and a half of the trip I'd have already bought three new books, read one, and have started the most recent (Jane Eyre). I suppose what I love about books so much is the stories they tell. Stories about life, love, loss, travels, adventures, mysteries, and a plumage of other equally fascinating topics. A person lives a thousand lives between the pages of books. Whilst I may be no Austen or Tolkien, in the short time I've been abroad, the best souvenirs I'll have are the stories I'll be able to tell.

Speaking of books, yesterday the 19th, our group went to the British Library of which we had a fantastic tour. Our guide lead us through ages upon ages of works behind huge glass walls and showed us reading rooms dedicated to every subject imaginable. To be able to access the wealth of knowledge stored one must acquire a special library card in order to get into said rooms. The guide also told us the library is required to gather all printed material in the UK, which to me is not only astounding, but also nearly incomprehensible.  It would be a dream to be able to sit in the humanities and religions reading rooms and just let me mind wander. Let my eyes pour over volumes of text, soaking the messages like a new plush towel. I could spend hours, days, weeks looking through shelves and not even made a tiny dent on the enormous collection.

The last room in the place we visited was their 'treasured collections' room which help some of their more famous texts (sadly not the Gutenberg bible). There were texts ranging from the notes from Winston Churchill to sacred Hindu texts. People's hearts were displayed on papyrus behind glass cases. Stories were told from the tip of a pen, quill, paint brush or typewriter. That room alone had so many immortalized lives, I did nothing but admire and let my jaw swing like a tire swing from an old willow tree.

Theater, baseline, is story telling in a visual form. There's no escaping stories, so you might as well tell them, or be doomed to live a life of lonely memories. I've seen so many things, like shaking hands with Sir Ian McKellan, and watching Luc nibble away at four chocolate muffins like an eager chipmunk, and it's only halfway done. My goodness, my sleepy conscious is ready for new adventures along the Thames, through the Tube, and into the beautiful country of England.

Sincerely,
     Thomas Gallegos