It's technically my third day in London and I haven't posted anything yet, and I want to keep a relatively updated account of my experience here. I don't want to put restrictions on it, like I must update every 24 hours or something, because I know I will just end up disappointing myself. But I don't want to forget anything that happens here, so let's see what I've done so far.
Well I took the plane Friday night after having a bad reaction to some face cream which left me looking like I had a red mustache. Excellent start. The flight was okay, but I didn't sleep much, maybe an hour or so, just watched Everybody Loves Raymond reruns and listened to music. Looking down at cities at night is so beautiful, but once we got up past Canada it was nothing but darkness. They were preparing us for a lot of turbulence but it didn't get very bad until the end of the flight, maybe the last hour. There were lots of Brits on the plane as far as I could tell, and after being here a few days I definitely see a difference in the way Americans and Brits look. I don't know exactly what it is, but you can tell who belongs here and who is just pretending. As much as I try to fit in, I know I haven't really got it down yet (it IS only the third day) but I'm not sure what I need to change - clothing plays a big part, but it's also the way they carry themselves, or their stride, or something in their faces that tells you what their accent will be before they speak.
Anyway, the woman sitting next to me was very small, Asian, young, late 20s early 30s perhaps, and we talked briefly. She lives in Westminster, which ironically enough is not the town that I am living in. I live in Marylebone (appropriately) but the main campus is in Westminster.
After the flight got in at Heathrow, I went through the passport check and got my luggage, and the first thing I saw when I walked out of the terminal was a Starbucks. At 7am, for someone who has eaten some airline chicken/pasta/corn/broccoli dish the night before, Starbucks looks like a sanctuary. Except for the fact that the prices were in pounds. I awkwardly shoved my luggage cart between the tiny tables at the Starbucks and then faced the dilemma of leaving it there while I waited in line. In Britian, everything seems small and narrow - the aisles, the streets, the sidewalks, the people - definitely not big enough for me, my backpack, and my luggage cart. When I sat down next to my luggage and used a Sudoku puzzle to disguise what was actually careful contemplation over how exactly to order my drink without abandoning my belongings, everyone around me seemed to be lurking predators who saw through to my undeniable (and inadequately masked) naïveté. Eventually I felt comfortable enough (and the line had gotten shorter) so I ordered my drink and then sat down to drink it, and all around me people were arriving - families, friends, lovers. I felt very alone, which was a marvel considering the huge luggage cart and stuffed backpack that accompanied me at that Starbucks table. It didn't help much when the shuttle bus came and I was its only passenger, or when the driver (who had in earlier days sold hotdogs in the venue while the Beatles played) said "So ya cayme heah aw bie yosewf, didja? At's a bit daunting isnit." Even with the phonetic alphabet I'm not sure I could accurately capture the pronunciations.
After a slight communication issue with both the reception desk in the main building and the security guard in the residence hall (both probably due to the fact that American English was my first language while British English was their second or third) I made my way up to 7J in Marylebone Hall and, upon opening the door, found myself in a hallway that ended in a desk and a window. Upon further entering the room, I realized that one of the walls of this hallway was partially made of a bed, and that this hallway, albeit a wide one by British standards, was to be my home for the next 5 months and 3 days. The doors on the left wall made up some fragmented version of a closet, and the door on my right was, indeed, the WC. Which had no TP. After calling my parents for what was surely a very expensive 9 minute phone call, I unpacked my bedding (a lovely coral-orange sponge-painted-wallpaper pattern) and collapsed into the migraine that had been demanding attention since my flight.
I awoke to the sound of my new Nokia ringtone, looked at the number that was calling me, remembered that I wasn’t familiar with British phone numbers in the first place, and answered anyway. It was Jess Durante and the rest of the Marist kids at FIE who had arrived a few days earlier, and they invited me to go explore with them. Thank God they did, because I had nothing planned and probably would have ended up sitting in my room with nothing to eat, working up the courage to step outside my building. They were meeting me at the Baker Street Tube stop, so I set up my internet, put on my coat, and went to get to know my surroundings a bit better.
I walked down Marylebone Rd and around the corner onto Baker St to get a feel for what was in close proximity. Within those two streets there reside: Pizza Hut, Kentucky Fried Chicken, McDonalds, Starbucks, a Post Office, Boots (like CVS), Tesco (a mini grocery store), Costas (like Starbucks), Pret (which is like the food portion of Starbucks only bigger) and Eat (which is like Pret). While I’m on the subject, sparkling water is a big thing here, but I haven’t tried it yet. This morning at orientation it was either coffee, tea, or sparkling water. You have to ask/look for “still water” if you want plain old H2O.
Anyway, I bought my first tube ticket (4 pounds ack!) and went with them to the Westminster stop. It was kind of weird to be in London with all of these Marist kids, but at the same time they were so familiar that it seemed relatively normal. We stepped out of the underground and literally right there in front of us was Big Ben.
Well I took the plane Friday night after having a bad reaction to some face cream which left me looking like I had a red mustache. Excellent start. The flight was okay, but I didn't sleep much, maybe an hour or so, just watched Everybody Loves Raymond reruns and listened to music. Looking down at cities at night is so beautiful, but once we got up past Canada it was nothing but darkness. They were preparing us for a lot of turbulence but it didn't get very bad until the end of the flight, maybe the last hour. There were lots of Brits on the plane as far as I could tell, and after being here a few days I definitely see a difference in the way Americans and Brits look. I don't know exactly what it is, but you can tell who belongs here and who is just pretending. As much as I try to fit in, I know I haven't really got it down yet (it IS only the third day) but I'm not sure what I need to change - clothing plays a big part, but it's also the way they carry themselves, or their stride, or something in their faces that tells you what their accent will be before they speak.
Anyway, the woman sitting next to me was very small, Asian, young, late 20s early 30s perhaps, and we talked briefly. She lives in Westminster, which ironically enough is not the town that I am living in. I live in Marylebone (appropriately) but the main campus is in Westminster.
After the flight got in at Heathrow, I went through the passport check and got my luggage, and the first thing I saw when I walked out of the terminal was a Starbucks. At 7am, for someone who has eaten some airline chicken/pasta/corn/broccoli dish the night before, Starbucks looks like a sanctuary. Except for the fact that the prices were in pounds. I awkwardly shoved my luggage cart between the tiny tables at the Starbucks and then faced the dilemma of leaving it there while I waited in line. In Britian, everything seems small and narrow - the aisles, the streets, the sidewalks, the people - definitely not big enough for me, my backpack, and my luggage cart. When I sat down next to my luggage and used a Sudoku puzzle to disguise what was actually careful contemplation over how exactly to order my drink without abandoning my belongings, everyone around me seemed to be lurking predators who saw through to my undeniable (and inadequately masked) naïveté. Eventually I felt comfortable enough (and the line had gotten shorter) so I ordered my drink and then sat down to drink it, and all around me people were arriving - families, friends, lovers. I felt very alone, which was a marvel considering the huge luggage cart and stuffed backpack that accompanied me at that Starbucks table. It didn't help much when the shuttle bus came and I was its only passenger, or when the driver (who had in earlier days sold hotdogs in the venue while the Beatles played) said "So ya cayme heah aw bie yosewf, didja? At's a bit daunting isnit." Even with the phonetic alphabet I'm not sure I could accurately capture the pronunciations.
After a slight communication issue with both the reception desk in the main building and the security guard in the residence hall (both probably due to the fact that American English was my first language while British English was their second or third) I made my way up to 7J in Marylebone Hall and, upon opening the door, found myself in a hallway that ended in a desk and a window. Upon further entering the room, I realized that one of the walls of this hallway was partially made of a bed, and that this hallway, albeit a wide one by British standards, was to be my home for the next 5 months and 3 days. The doors on the left wall made up some fragmented version of a closet, and the door on my right was, indeed, the WC. Which had no TP. After calling my parents for what was surely a very expensive 9 minute phone call, I unpacked my bedding (a lovely coral-orange sponge-painted-wallpaper pattern) and collapsed into the migraine that had been demanding attention since my flight.
I awoke to the sound of my new Nokia ringtone, looked at the number that was calling me, remembered that I wasn’t familiar with British phone numbers in the first place, and answered anyway. It was Jess Durante and the rest of the Marist kids at FIE who had arrived a few days earlier, and they invited me to go explore with them. Thank God they did, because I had nothing planned and probably would have ended up sitting in my room with nothing to eat, working up the courage to step outside my building. They were meeting me at the Baker Street Tube stop, so I set up my internet, put on my coat, and went to get to know my surroundings a bit better.
I walked down Marylebone Rd and around the corner onto Baker St to get a feel for what was in close proximity. Within those two streets there reside: Pizza Hut, Kentucky Fried Chicken, McDonalds, Starbucks, a Post Office, Boots (like CVS), Tesco (a mini grocery store), Costas (like Starbucks), Pret (which is like the food portion of Starbucks only bigger) and Eat (which is like Pret). While I’m on the subject, sparkling water is a big thing here, but I haven’t tried it yet. This morning at orientation it was either coffee, tea, or sparkling water. You have to ask/look for “still water” if you want plain old H2O.
Anyway, I bought my first tube ticket (4 pounds ack!) and went with them to the Westminster stop. It was kind of weird to be in London with all of these Marist kids, but at the same time they were so familiar that it seemed relatively normal. We stepped out of the underground and literally right there in front of us was Big Ben.
After taking a good amount of photographs we walked farther down the sidewalk and then we got a good view of Parliament, which also resulted in several pictures.
Finally we walked far enough down that we could capture both of them in one shot, which made for more even better pictures.
Turning around, we had a great view of the London Eye.
And so, slowly but surely, in varying intervals of flashes, and stopping every few feet or so to snap another, we crossed the Westminster Bridge.
This was London, breathless and grandiose and photogenic. And freaking cold. After the shock of seeing the quintessential London sights faded slightly, I realized that I hadn’t eaten anything of sustenance (a Tall Caramel Frappuccino doesn’t go very far) in close to 24 hours. So we asked and found the nearest pub, All Bar One, on Chicheley St, directly behind the London Eye.
I was too nervous to order a pint, because 1) I have never ordered a drink from a bar before in my life, 2) I don’t know anything about beer, 3) I ESPECIALLY don’t know anything about foreign beer, and 4) I don’t even like beer in the first place. So I chickened out and split a bottle of wine with Jess and Lindsay with my burger and “chips” (which they disappointingly referred to as “fries” on the menu). It was nice just to hang out with everyone though, and to get to know them all a bit better. Uh oh, I just said “a bit” – the British is getting to me already!
When we headed home, it felt as though it was late at night, but it was really only around 8pm. I took the Tube and walked back from Baker St, and felt very accomplished. My first day in a new city and I was already a pro! Well, not really. But I could handle this!
Day Two – Okay, now that I’d mastered the walking-around aspect, I needed to master the making-friends aspect. My mission was to meet someone on my floor, or at least someone from the Study Abroad Program. I slept in, unloaded my All-Unied pack into the kitchen, and went to use my padlocks on my cabinets, and realized I could not figure out how to change the combination from 0000. “Perfect conversation starter!” I thought. “Hey, what’s up, I’m Amanda, I’m studying abroad this semester, do you know how to work these locks?” It would be great. I would seem friendly, casual, and not too desperate. So I fixed my hair, looked as stylish as possible, and went out into the hallway. I knocked. And I knocked. And I knocked. No one came to answer their doors. “Maybe they’re not in there, or maybe they’re asleep at 2pm,” I thought. “It’s fine.” Then I came to my next door neighbor, who had been in and out all morning, and whose music was blasting, heightening the obviousness of her presence. I knocked. I heard the shuffling of feet and the rapid clink of the peep hole being opened. And then the shuffling of feet back towards the music. Where they stayed. She didn’t even open the door – just left me standing there, the friendless foreign American, foolishly grasping a padlock that clearly lacked the key to companionship, becoming swallowed by loneliness in the deserted hallway. Defeated, trying to shake off the blatant display of unfriendliness, I went in the kitchen and put my locks on with their 0000 combination, and then – a miracle – another human was around! It turns out it was the mean girl from 7I, looking at me warily from around the kitchen door, enquiring (more British) “Ah you nyew heah?” We had a halted, slightly repetitive conversation (mostly because I am not yet used to the British accent since this is the first conversation with a Brit I’ve had consisting of more than just “Can a get you sommin to drink mam?…Wot size?”) that consisted of me stumbling over my words and clumsily fumbling with the padlock still in my hands. I don’t even remember her name, but she ended by telling me just to ask if I needed anything before disappearing out the kitchen door. As of right now, 5pm the following day, that was the last time that I saw another person on my floor.
Spurred on by the hope inspired by the possibility of a connection with another human being, I confidently set out to find the Tesco Express Google Maps had told me lay just down Baker St. It took a while to find what I needed, and the cashier gave me a dull blink as I brightly apologized, it was my first Tesco experience, while searching for the appropriate cash. I cooked pasta for dinner and returned to Tesco for a six-pack of Evian after realizing I hadn’t bought anything to drink. It was a quiet evening in my tiny room, cold (from a drafty window I think) despite the heater on high and I spent it talking on Skype and posting pictures to keep myself occupied, but as I lay in bed trying to get some sleep for my orientation in the morning, I could hear the girl from 7I in her room, with friends over, all happily talking in their jolty British accents, laughing, and I could only pick out certain words that I understood. On the other side of the wall, huddled underneath my sponge-painted blankets, alienated, lonely, and missing everyone (especially Richard), I cried for the first time.
The second day was the hardest when I moved in to Marist, I remember, and I tried to remind myself of that. I would make friends tomorrow, at orientation, where everyone is in the same boat as I am – everyone is foreign and lonely for the moment, I reassured myself. I woke up and headed to the New Cavandish campus on foot, trying to take in the sites while maintaining the pace of a local. There, I met Magnus and Ana Marie from Norway, Juliana from Brazil, Fernando and Maria from Mexico, Mohamed from Morocco, Phillip from Germany, Gina from Chicago and Rachel from New Hampshire. The last three are a part of my Orientation Challenge group, which we are meeting for tomorrow after our registration appointments at 12:45. Rachel is also the only one from her college here at Westminster, and we exchanged numbers. Other than Phillip, though, they didn’t seem too keen on hanging out (more British expressions!) beyond what’s necessary for the challenge. Hopefully I can be friends with Rachel though. She and Gina live in the same residence hall, and they are both vegetarian, but I really hope I can squeeze in there. It was so nice to be able to talk to other Americans, not that I would mind becoming good friends with someone outside of America – actually, I would prefer it. It is only the third day, but I still don’t feel as though I’ve made any worthwhile bonds. I know friendship takes time, so we’ll see what comes next. I feel pretty satisfied after today though, because I finally had a decent amount of social interaction. I also walked around a lot and found my way home, which makes me a little more confident in my geography skills.
Well, it’s almost dinner time and I think I’m going to run to Tesco to try to get some soy sauce and some salt and pepper, and maybe some sweet stuff because I have just run out of gummy bears, and hopefully later tonight I will finally be able to put pictures up and maybe stick my toes into Ulysses. We’ll see. This has taken me 2 and a half hours, but I’m glad I got it all down.
I’ll write again soon.
Love,
Amanda
When we headed home, it felt as though it was late at night, but it was really only around 8pm. I took the Tube and walked back from Baker St, and felt very accomplished. My first day in a new city and I was already a pro! Well, not really. But I could handle this!
Day Two – Okay, now that I’d mastered the walking-around aspect, I needed to master the making-friends aspect. My mission was to meet someone on my floor, or at least someone from the Study Abroad Program. I slept in, unloaded my All-Unied pack into the kitchen, and went to use my padlocks on my cabinets, and realized I could not figure out how to change the combination from 0000. “Perfect conversation starter!” I thought. “Hey, what’s up, I’m Amanda, I’m studying abroad this semester, do you know how to work these locks?” It would be great. I would seem friendly, casual, and not too desperate. So I fixed my hair, looked as stylish as possible, and went out into the hallway. I knocked. And I knocked. And I knocked. No one came to answer their doors. “Maybe they’re not in there, or maybe they’re asleep at 2pm,” I thought. “It’s fine.” Then I came to my next door neighbor, who had been in and out all morning, and whose music was blasting, heightening the obviousness of her presence. I knocked. I heard the shuffling of feet and the rapid clink of the peep hole being opened. And then the shuffling of feet back towards the music. Where they stayed. She didn’t even open the door – just left me standing there, the friendless foreign American, foolishly grasping a padlock that clearly lacked the key to companionship, becoming swallowed by loneliness in the deserted hallway. Defeated, trying to shake off the blatant display of unfriendliness, I went in the kitchen and put my locks on with their 0000 combination, and then – a miracle – another human was around! It turns out it was the mean girl from 7I, looking at me warily from around the kitchen door, enquiring (more British) “Ah you nyew heah?” We had a halted, slightly repetitive conversation (mostly because I am not yet used to the British accent since this is the first conversation with a Brit I’ve had consisting of more than just “Can a get you sommin to drink mam?…Wot size?”) that consisted of me stumbling over my words and clumsily fumbling with the padlock still in my hands. I don’t even remember her name, but she ended by telling me just to ask if I needed anything before disappearing out the kitchen door. As of right now, 5pm the following day, that was the last time that I saw another person on my floor.
Spurred on by the hope inspired by the possibility of a connection with another human being, I confidently set out to find the Tesco Express Google Maps had told me lay just down Baker St. It took a while to find what I needed, and the cashier gave me a dull blink as I brightly apologized, it was my first Tesco experience, while searching for the appropriate cash. I cooked pasta for dinner and returned to Tesco for a six-pack of Evian after realizing I hadn’t bought anything to drink. It was a quiet evening in my tiny room, cold (from a drafty window I think) despite the heater on high and I spent it talking on Skype and posting pictures to keep myself occupied, but as I lay in bed trying to get some sleep for my orientation in the morning, I could hear the girl from 7I in her room, with friends over, all happily talking in their jolty British accents, laughing, and I could only pick out certain words that I understood. On the other side of the wall, huddled underneath my sponge-painted blankets, alienated, lonely, and missing everyone (especially Richard), I cried for the first time.
The second day was the hardest when I moved in to Marist, I remember, and I tried to remind myself of that. I would make friends tomorrow, at orientation, where everyone is in the same boat as I am – everyone is foreign and lonely for the moment, I reassured myself. I woke up and headed to the New Cavandish campus on foot, trying to take in the sites while maintaining the pace of a local. There, I met Magnus and Ana Marie from Norway, Juliana from Brazil, Fernando and Maria from Mexico, Mohamed from Morocco, Phillip from Germany, Gina from Chicago and Rachel from New Hampshire. The last three are a part of my Orientation Challenge group, which we are meeting for tomorrow after our registration appointments at 12:45. Rachel is also the only one from her college here at Westminster, and we exchanged numbers. Other than Phillip, though, they didn’t seem too keen on hanging out (more British expressions!) beyond what’s necessary for the challenge. Hopefully I can be friends with Rachel though. She and Gina live in the same residence hall, and they are both vegetarian, but I really hope I can squeeze in there. It was so nice to be able to talk to other Americans, not that I would mind becoming good friends with someone outside of America – actually, I would prefer it. It is only the third day, but I still don’t feel as though I’ve made any worthwhile bonds. I know friendship takes time, so we’ll see what comes next. I feel pretty satisfied after today though, because I finally had a decent amount of social interaction. I also walked around a lot and found my way home, which makes me a little more confident in my geography skills.
Well, it’s almost dinner time and I think I’m going to run to Tesco to try to get some soy sauce and some salt and pepper, and maybe some sweet stuff because I have just run out of gummy bears, and hopefully later tonight I will finally be able to put pictures up and maybe stick my toes into Ulysses. We’ll see. This has taken me 2 and a half hours, but I’m glad I got it all down.
I’ll write again soon.
Love,
Amanda
Hi. This is weird. But I saw noticed (due to wonderful oh-fabulous facebook notifications) that you had this link as your stat. And I was curious, so I clicked on it. And I read majority your blog (obviously) and I haven't finished yet, but I will. I just wanted to comment now before I forget or don't get the chance to later. Oh no. Wait, I didn't mention who I am...I'm a member of LAS...my name's Tahara. And I might be going abroad in the future and I want to go to London...sooo, yeah. But overall, I enjoyed reading it. The part about the bee trying to pollinate the necklaces was funnyyyyyy. :)
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