Oh, you’re American?

I have been living here just over a month now, and any doubts or worries I might of had of living here are gone. I LOVE it here. There are things that are new and different, but I’ve been rolling with the change and have been adapting to my true/new environment. One of the many thing I love about London is that there are so many cultures here that it’s hard to keep up with all the different restaurants. There are, of course, even Americans here although not as much as I would have thought. Yes, there are tons of Americans here, but at the same time I would certainly not call us the majority of the internationals here.

There are plenty of us visiting here, but maybe not a lot of Americans living here. We must be a somewhat rare a commodity because it feels like every time I open my mouth, someone is there to ask: “American or Canadian?”

Right there. It’s that moment when you know that by your answer there will be immanent judgment coming right at you. And you also know that you’re answer of ‘American’ maybe not be the best answer. Yes Americans have a reputation, I know it, and I know that some countries don’t like us. Hell, I even understand why they don’t like us. But I actually think that this question is coming up even more so because of the presidential election coming up.

Now don’t worry I’m not going to get political here. There are few things I really do hate in life and politics is one of them. It’s probably because of the whole ‘keep your friends close and enemies closer’ that I do keep myself up to date on everything and keep myself in the know. But that does NOT mean I want to talk about it. And yet as soon as I tell people that I am American it’s like I’ve suddenly become the US spokes person on current political affairs.

“Have you seen the debate?”

“What’s the general view of Romney?”

“How do Americans feel about Obama Care, and where do they wish for it to be taken?”

Do I look like I have a podium in front of me for a news conference? Do I look like Barbara Walters? No. Why? Because I am not here to speak for all Americans or to break down any debate or speech topic by topic.

And I am not exaggerating. I finally purchased a Rail card, which is the most amazing thing that gives you discounts on train fairs or tube/bus fairs, and I was getting it combined with my oyster card (the card you use for tubes/busses) and it was only supposed to take 10 seconds, but the guy behind the counter had just been reading the New York Times about the last debate and he started questioning me. He was clearly not a fan of the US, as he continued to explain to me why it’s an empire. After a failed Star Wars joke, I realized I just had to let him rant and do his thing. Why didn’t I argue or make any kind of hissy fit? It did annoy me, he was insulting the country I was born and raised in, and no one wants to hear that, but there is no point in arguing. I hate politics, and there was nothing that I could say that could have made that man realize that I’m not part of the US Senate.

It may seem like I’m sitting here bitching about my beloved British people. But I don’t blame them. They just want to know what’s going on and want to hear it from an American. Who I do blame is Mr. Romney and President Obama. This part is for you two gentlemen.

I get it. You both want to be president. You both want to change/help America in your on way, and it looks like it’s going to be a close call so you have to work hard for it. But take a step back guys and calm your shit down. Do you really need the one liners? The smart mouthing? The rolling of the eyes? The offensive comments? The hard punches? The entire concept of discussing things like civil human being seems entirely out of question. And that’s for the both of you. I can even just imaging that you are both actually in cahoots with one another, good drinking buddies… ok not drinking, but good buddies and are just doing this for the attention. I’ve seen episode of Toddlers in Tiaras where the moms are less attention seeker then the two of you. You are both putting on a good show, but who is the one doing positive PR abroad? Me. And other people like me, who are just living their lives abroad. The next time you give a speech or appear together, just remember the American who are out there doing damage control.

Hope that wasn’t too political for you, if it was then I’m sorry. I will get you a cookie. No I won’t, but it’s still the thought that counts.

-Jac-

What transition?

Before I moved to jolly ‘ol England, I had a good number of people warning me about the transition. “Oh you know it’s different there. You have to walk everywhere! And everything is going to smaller then what your used to. And you won’t be able to get everything you would want right away.” I would then respond that that is exactly what i love about England, and depending how much they pissed me off I would tell them to shut up. I get that this type of living is not everyone’s cup of tea, but it is mine. So with that, I’ve realized that I’ve practically skipped over the whole transition period; I’m here!

I’ve lived my entire life living in some suburb or another, which is great for growing up, but I’m a city girl at heart. City living is the best, it’s fast, there’s always something to do, and (I mean this in a good way) no cares about you. There are millions of people here, according to Google 8,174,100 to be exact. Do you think anyone is going to care what crazy outfit you wear, or in your beliefs, or where you’ve come from. It allows a different type of freedom to be the kind of person you want to be.

Yet with London, it is very easy to take a pause from the hurried life style of a city. Step into a pub, have a pint, or just go to a park and you are able to take a breather and suddenly life isn’t going so fast and you’re able to smell the roses. Sometimes literally.

It was the other day when I realized that I’ve transition just fine into living in London. I had an appointment with a bank in central London to start up my account, an appointment that should have lasted only a half hour ended up being an hour and a half just because we were chatting for so long. By the time I left it was rush hour in London, and in central London that one hell of rush. Everyone walks around with a purpose, they know where they’re going and when they need to get there. That’s one way I’ve learned to tell who the tourist are. They’ll stop to look around, probably wondering where the are. I’ve already helped some tourist find their way around. Yes, I am fully gloating.

There was a Boots (sort of like a Target, but with less options) across from my tube stop, so I figured that I would run the errands I needed to and grab a cup of coffee while I was at. Towards the evening, there are people giving out a free news paper of the evening news. The other times I’ve been to London I’ve seen people on the tube all smooshed together, reading their free evening news paper. A dream has been realized, I was one of those cramped up people, with coffee, and reading the news while the tube would take off. Maybe it’s the honeymoon phase for me for London, it’s not like I enjoy being pressed up to random strangers in an over heated carriage, but if it’s part of the package of what come with living in London, then I’ll take it.

The day to day life here is still entertaining for me. The concept of walking to the grocery store is not one I’m used to, but I was prepared for the walked so it’s not a surprise to me. The entertaining part for me is that the store that’s I’ve been asking people about, Sainsbury’s, everyone has told me that it’s a close, easy walk. If you’re a normal London walker, then it’s probably 10-15 min away, if you’re slow like me, it’s closer to 20 min. I realized as I was walking closer to Sainsbury’s, that’s it is right next to a tube station, a station that is only one stop away from the station where I live right next to. This is where the internal battle kicks in. Do you walk for just a brief bit that is probably even healthy for you, or do you waist the money and go on the tube and for some reason then feel like a bad person? Luckily I didn’t have my Oyster card and wasn’t able to make the decision and was forced to walk. It’s ok, I’m a better person for that. I just need to make sure I keep forgetting my Oyster card every time I go, so that I don’t feel tempted.

So that’s my life so far. Updates: I’ve met a ton of people and have been going out, so yay to having a life! That’s all you get for now.

-Jac-

One hell of a week

I have been here for a week and a half now and I cannot believe how quickly it all passed. But I have a feeling that’s what it’s going to be like for this entire school year. I came to the UK with my mom, she was only here for the first week, but was here helping me move in. While all my other flat mates were moving in and staying in their new rooms, I was back in the nice hotel with my mommy. I’m sure it made me look like the spoiled American, but the truth of the matter is that I knew saying goodbye to my mom was going to be painfully hard and I wanted to spend as much time as I could with her. Over all I think my mom and I did pretty damn good. This was her first time in the UK so I wanted her to check out the sites, and see what it is that I love so much about this place.

While I know the majority of people who are going to be reading this will be my family and friends, I figured if some random person about to go study in the UK stumbled onto this blog, I hope this part helps. Here is the break down of registering into a University, at least my University.

I arrived on the 15th, a Saturday. The 15th and the 16th was the whole move in weekend for pretty much everyone. We had all already signed our lease agreement online and had printed that out, so we brought that printed copy to the building, along with my passport, and the officials gave us my key. In theory, I would have been moving in right at that moment. Many people I saw dragging their luggage around, sometimes even backtracking while having to carry everything. That’s where my mom’s hotel room came in handy. We delivered my luggage one day at a time, which was an event just within itself. A 50 pound bag, and with a bus and a ride on the tube made me into an almost-not-really Londoner.

So for me, this part is the weird part. Back at Arizona State University, and I believe this will be the typical normal for the majority of the states, I would register for classes at least two months before actually starting school. I would already know what I’m taking, when I’m taking it, and it most part I would even have my syllabus a month ahead of time. Here I basically went into it having a general idea, and having already placed my request in for what I wanted to take. I’m majoring in Comparative Literature. I knew that everyone who was majoring in it had to take a core class and that would be taken for the entire year. I also understood that I had my choice of another class. One for the first semester, one for the second. And for those of you who are good at math, yes, that means I’m only taking two classes. And that’s me going full time. Many of friends were ‘jealous’ or said I was ‘lucky’. Bullshit! I know what two classes means. It’s like when a teacher lets your use your notes on a test, it only means the is going to be so hard that you would fail without it. That how I see it. Two classes? That means those two classes are going to make me their little prison bitch.

But I digress.

I had fill out an online question and answer, which was my pre-enrollment. I was then given a very specific and small time slot to go in and fully enroll. Still not the place where I would find out where what my classes were, when my classes were, and where my classes were going to be. While I am all for being lazy, I’m not the kind to sit around if I have a question. So my mom and I hunted for the office for my department. This is when I found out that they grouped the English (and all the it entails) with all the other arts in one building. Now that’s a whole other kind of rant, and it’s not anything against art, but I’m sure if there are any artists out there, they would understand and not want to be grouped with us English peeps. But that’s alright, I’ve now made it my mission to make the English department so awesome, we get our own building called the English building. Not “Arts”.

The very nice woman at the English office told me that I would find out more info once the head guy sent out an email. I did get my emails and it turned out I had to go to an induction meeting. It sounds intimidating and it was intimidating. It was at the head guy’s office. Proff O. He seemed really nice and he laughed at my jokes, so I like anyone who laughs at my jokes. Once I showed up though, I realized that there are only 3 of us in the program, and there are about 10 professors who are there to give us lesson and help us.

Well then. If that’s not a reason to freak the f*ck out, then I don’t know what is. Oh wait, I do. My syllabus. There were moments when we were reading over everything that we had to do, and I thought ‘yea, I’ve got this. Just wait till the feminist week and Marxist week, I’ll blow your minds!’ Then there were other times when I wanted to slip under the table and cry thinking that I’m out of my league here. But then I realized that’s good though. If I was going into something that I full know, that would be easy, and not push me, then what would be the whole point of this. To quote Glee, “If you’re not scared, that means you’re not sticking your head out far enough”. I must look like a giraffe then.

At this point my mommy has gone home and I’m still wondering how the hell am I going to make friends? I wasn’t worried about making friends when I first came here, I’m pretty social. And I’m not really worried now, I was just planning on meeting people in my classes. And Then I found out that there are only three of us dude A, and lady E. I didn’t even meet lady E. There’s only three of us and she didn’t even make it to the induction meeting. There is a brilliant humor about that.

I’ll make friends, just as I will kick these classes and dissertation’s ass. It’ll happen in time, that’s how life works out.

Much love,

-Jac-