I’m still having a hard time believing that the first term is over! Though it seems like just yesterday that I arrived here, the calendar tells me that I’ve now been here eleven weeks and the Michaelmas term is now behind me! At times, it seems like one big blur: the classes, late nights, essay deadlines and required readings, sustained largely by copious amounts of (not-so-gourmet) coffee.

As I reflect on the term gone by, my mind wanders back to how I found my feet in London the city, even as I adapted to LSE the university. Moving to London was so highly anticipated, and the LSE prospective student website, the brochures, offer packs and newsletters all helped me connect with the city before I had even set foot in it. Even before my visa came through, I was spouting names and places like a walking tourist book. Yet, no amount of paper information or internet research could have really prepared me for London and actually living in the city.

My first few days were a blaze of introductions – new names, new faces and trying to remember that St Clement’s Building is not the same as Clement House (a painful lesson, when you have to rush up the seven floors of Clement House!). And after the first week, the enormity of it all hit me.

I was not unhappy, far from it, but I think I was overwhelmed. It seemed like I had to hit the ground running and there was just so much to absorb. My classmates seemed so much more experienced, my teachers so accomplished and the course so demanding. Career fairs and campus recruitment presentations were ongoing even before the first class had begun! It seemed like everyone was so focused, so competitive, that there was no place for a lost kid who was clueless about her future. A strange kind of uncertainty crept in. I’d had a very comfortable life in Kenya … a proper home with my loving family, a really cool job, awesome colleagues, some amazing friends and a network of people who respected and cared for me. Here I was nobody. Just another pair of feet on the ever-busy streets, one more person trudging up the escalators at Holborn Station, one more student in a city teeming with them, another one of millions pursuing their life’s dream in London. I wondered why I had given up all that comfort and stability in Kenya for this. Had I been wise to give it all up to join a rat race? Maybe I was too young to be here!

These thoughts lingered in my mind, a vague spectre as I got over my initial euphoria at living in the world’s biggest city and studying in the best university. London was so immense, with everyone so busy trying to chase their dreams. I noticed that people here, especially on the tube, avoided looking at each other, and complained about how people scarcely smiled at each other. I mean, people aren’t taxed for smiling, so why the reluctance?  Where did I fit in, in this big city? And so it went, amidst the excitement; a twinge of malaise, a sense of bewilderment, even a pang of insecurity.

Until one day when it all changed.

It was a Sunday morning in early October, and I had decided to head to the library for my first essay (said insecurity at work here). It was 8 am and the sun was shining brightly – casting a lovely golden glow on a beautiful autumn morning. This grand epiphany came to me when I exited Holborn tube station, with a book-laden backpack on my shoulders. Yet as I stepped out, I noticed the difference. The streets were silent, almost deserted. It was strangely calming to see Kingsway, normally so busy and crowded, quiet in the golden morning sunshine. Asleep. And as I marched to the campus, revelling in the solitude, I felt almost like I owned the streets. In fact, I felt like a conqueror!

And the discoveries continued. I reached the library and walked in to find it empty! (At LSE, this is a rare feat) I could choose any seat I wanted (read here) and the books of the library were waiting for me! I could even play my music very softly; there was no one to be disturbed by it!

I’m sure it was not the silent street or empty library that changed me, but I think the realisation that came as I walked alone, king of the streets, awake as London slept. The realisation that in my insignificance lies my independence. That the fact that nobody really pays attention to anyone else is not a barrier to me being myself. And this cognisance was not just liberating, but empowering. I am free, free to choose my pace and standards, free to chart my path, free to just be me! And all that matters is that I be the best me that I can possibly be.

And from there, I think, there was a perceptible change in my life. I stopped caring so much about what others were doing or what they thought, and did what I honestly felt was right for me. I stopped worrying about how good others were or who had already locked a dissertation topic, and who had already lined up a job. I began to compete the way I always had – against myself. I was not afraid to walk tall, a spring in my step and to smile broadly at people on the streets, whether or not they so much as looked at me. And soon enough, people began to smile back!

I cannot say for sure if this moment-of-discovery was indeed such a pivotal time in my early days, but I can say this much for sure – I have been so happy in London, so content, so much more confident, so free – all because I found the answer in me.

London is such a huge city and though it might seem stark at times, I believe this city has a heart – one that pulses with dreams, beats with life and above all, one that has plenty to give. I have realised that this city has all my dreams and more to give me – I just need to reach out and take my chance, carve my slice of the pie (chocolate with berries and cream, but I digress!).

And I realised that my first step towards this is to be free, to be me.

PS: Smile, it’s tax-free! :p