I overslept Friday morning and found myself scurrying around
and praying that I’d have enough time to get dressed, run to Bonington, trim my
artwork, pin it up, print off a final copy of my story, and figure out how to
display it before meeting my friend Chris at the bus station. The fact that I had already packed all my
clothes except for one dress really expedited the outfit selection process, so
I actually did manage to get to Bonington within a reasonable amount of
time. Gavin had brought in a cool
leather cover thingy for sort of framing my story, plus he had found a sort of
lectern to stand under the artwork so the words and the art wouldn’t have to
vie for space on the same wall.
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| My final project |
After enlisting Megan, McKenzie, and Gavin to help pin up
the panorama and asking Gavin to pretty please print off the last copy of my
story (in my defense, his staff card was what gave us access to the printing
lab at all), I dashed off to find Broadmarsh Bus Station. Although I was successful in meeting up with
Chris, the walk made me a little sad because I realized there were still whole
districts of Nottingham I hadn’t yet explored – and I had run out of time to do
so.
Chris’s classes had already ended, so he had decided to come
up to Nottingham for a day trip. It was
fun getting to be the tour guide, and it helped me realize just how much I had
absorbed in my weeks here. I took him to
the castle for the obligatory picture with the Robin Hood statue, then down to
Ye Olde Trip to Jerusalem for lunch. We
caught up on our favorite experiences of the summer and reminisced about
Bellarmine before I pointed out the caves in Castle Rock and told him the story
of Mortimer’s Hole. From there, because I knew he’d appreciate
it, I showed him the plaque marking where Charles
I started the English Civil War. He
enjoyed all these sites, but noted that he was disappointed in the lack of
singing animals in medieval clothing (sadly, life is not a Disney film).
Since my exhibition was starting soon, we meandered toward
Market Square, where I pointed out the Council House above the hubbub of the
“beach” and introduced him to Oscar and Leo, the Right and Left Lions. From there I showed him the NTU campus (upon
seeing Arkwright, he said, “So you go to school in a castle”) and led him
through the twists and turns of the labyrinth that is Bonington to the
exhibition space.
Everyone else’s pieces had turned out really well. Megan did album covers inspired by our
outings; McKenzie wrote a story and created an accompanying tree out of
pictures she had taken throughout the program; Marissa wrote poems; Katie
designed coats of arms; Ali reimagined the Nottingham coat of arms
incorporating things like Phantom of the Opera; Abigail created a
display depicting the battle of experiencing a place while looking for gluten
free food; and Carson wrote several epistolary and almost prose poem pieces
which he displayed across a wall. All in
all, I was thoroughly impressed with our group’s efforts.
Several of our tutors showed up, along with Allie and Lauren
and Steve, who brought scones and champagne for everyone to share. Everyone mingled and complimented each
other’s art and tried not to think about how it was almost over. As Marissa would later point out on Facebook,
when we gathered for a group photo, our cuddliness was a far cry from the
not-sure-how-to-get-into-formation people in our first picture on our first
day. There’s something about exploring a
strange country with complete strangers that bonds you. And yet, despite the bond that had formed, we
would probably never be in Nottingham together again.
After an evaluation of the Fulbright program (likes,
dislikes, goals completed, goals turned to dust, surprises, etc.) with Valerie,
we dragged ourselves back to the flat to finish packing, still trying not to
talk about how this whole thing was nearly at its end. We still had dinner with Steve, Allie,
Lauren, and Gavin, after all, and probably some pubs after that. We had whole hours left. It wasn’t over.
I personally found myself reaching my limit by the time we
left the Rescue Rooms, the first bar we visited after dinner. Hugging our guides goodbye, I headed back to
the flat one last time to cram my dress into my suitcase and quadruple check my
flight itinerary for the next day.
Eventually I just tried to get some sleep, even though the endless
checklist of Travel Stuff kept racing through my head. The cabs would come at 4:15 a.m., at which
point it would truly be the end.
In the quiet stages of tiredness, we were much more willing
to discuss our sadness at the end of the Fulbright program as the taxis zipped
through the darkened, empty streets. The
surreal atmosphere of the world that early in the morning, I supposed,
complemented the surreal feeling of our time in Nottingham having sped by and
gone slowly all at once. So we said our
goodbyes to this English city that had come to feel something like home, and
off we went into the darkness.
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