{"id":1474,"date":"2019-03-04T06:00:48","date_gmt":"2019-03-04T14:00:48","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/depts.washington.edu\/chidint\/journal\/?p=1474"},"modified":"2019-03-11T23:47:24","modified_gmt":"2019-03-12T06:47:24","slug":"there-was-no-lace-in-nottingham","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/depts.washington.edu\/chidint\/journal\/2019\/03\/there-was-no-lace-in-nottingham\/","title":{"rendered":"There Was No Lace in Nottingham"},"content":{"rendered":"

I participated in the UW English Department\u2019s Summer in London program in Summer 2018. \u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

I wrote this poem\u00a0when I came back home, as a type of self-reflection on my experience in that specific city. Prior to my trip, I was set on certain things I wanted to see, purchase, and try in England, within the short span of time I had there. Additionally, I went to great strides to perfect my flaws beforehand, in order to display a new persona in a new country. What I want readers to take away from this poem is the question, when you\u2019re alone and by yourself, do you like you? Travel is the perfect place to discover whether you are comfortable in your identity, which is why I am such a voucher for self-discovery via travel.<\/em><\/p>\n

\n

North of London, there is a city knitted into the landscape behind River Trent.\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a01
\nIt\u2019s a place where they salt their fish and chips,
\nand allow you to squeeze lemon and vinegar all over the fried cod
\nInstead of London\u2019s congested, bland blubber.<\/p>\n

The intention of this weekend excursion\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 4
\nwas to find a lace scarf, or lace ribbon,
\nor just half a yard of the fabric to bring home.
\nI planned to feel it and wrap my head in it
\nor attach them to the windows of my home
\nSo I could twirl into them like a spinning wheel and shawl myself
\nletting each piece of my fat and muscle stencil against the holey material
\nwhile looking through its\u2019 white, mesh-like net.
\nI imagined delicate, web-like flurries
\nmade of thread
\ndarning the English cobble streets of the city.
\nI pictured warehouses of snowy seams
\nfilled with machines that could sew hundreds of yards at a time
\nas I walked down, what was called, Lace Market.
\nAlas, none. no lace.<\/p>\n

Later that evening, I walked into my hotel bedroom\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a019
\ndefeated in my quest for lace.
\nYet, the material was embedded into the curtains near the side of my bed,
\nfacing a window with a view of a neighboring brick building
\nwhere the muffin top view of the sky was colored Van Gogh pink,
\nmixed with bits of light, so yellow, it looked white.
\nThese lace curtains didn\u2019t exactly block the light
\nfrom hitting the room, like a curtain should.
\nAcross from the curtains was a mirror,
\nAnd I stared, hoping my body had trimmed from the days of walking,
\nbut it was the same,
\nAnd I wondered if I was happy with that.
\nWhy did I want lace in the first place?
\nIt would probably tear in my backpack on the way home.
\nIt\u2019s delicate, like cutting paper snowflakes in an elementary classroom before winter break.
\nIt\u2019s pretty, but only lasts so long once touched.
\nWhen by itself, with no one to admire it,
\nIt just sits there without purpose.<\/p>\n

The next day, I stepped out of my cotton pajamas, naked in the mirror\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 37
\nThe knots of Nottingham stitched into my veins with a tightened beauty of my solitary self.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

I participated in the UW English Department\u2019s Summer in London program in Summer 2018. \u00a0 I wrote this poem\u00a0when I came back home, as a type of self-reflection on my experience in that specific city. Prior to my trip, I was set on certain things I wanted to see, purchase, and try in England, within […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":673,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[115],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/depts.washington.edu\/chidint\/journal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1474"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/depts.washington.edu\/chidint\/journal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/depts.washington.edu\/chidint\/journal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/depts.washington.edu\/chidint\/journal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/673"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/depts.washington.edu\/chidint\/journal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1474"}],"version-history":[{"count":5,"href":"https:\/\/depts.washington.edu\/chidint\/journal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1474\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1580,"href":"https:\/\/depts.washington.edu\/chidint\/journal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1474\/revisions\/1580"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/depts.washington.edu\/chidint\/journal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1474"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/depts.washington.edu\/chidint\/journal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1474"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/depts.washington.edu\/chidint\/journal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1474"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}