For all those scientists who have been scratching their heads wondering why the Earth slowed down every day after January 7th when it was daytime in England, you no longer need to recheck your calculations because I can now report that time here passes as quickly as it does anywhere else. Although I’ve only been at Sussex for three weeks, it feels like so much longer, and I was excited for a weekend away in London.
On Friday afternoon at Brighton station, I met up with the other Wash. U. students studying at Sussex and our guide for the weekend, Sorrel, who is possibly the friendliest person I’ve met on either side of the Atlantic. A quick hour later, we arrived in the city and were soon at our bed & breakfast, a charming little place located in central London. The room was nice, and I especially appreciated the complementary hot chocolate and “biscuits.” I shared the room with the other Sussex/Wash. U. girls, but unfortunately, the hotel only had one key for our room. (Seriously, who puts four beds in a room and thinks only one key is necessary???) But we all decided to worry about this minor inconvenience later, and we set out for a yummy Turkish dinner, paid for by ACCENT, the company Wash. U. hires to ensure we survive the study abroad experience.
There, I was reunited with fellow Wash. U. students studying in London, and it was lovely to see Hannah again. And for those of you who are not yet convinced that I have outgrown my picky-eater ways, you should know that I tried every appetizer the table was served (yes, that includes more than bread), and I ate a spinach and potato dish entrée. It would have taken a better strategist than I to figure out how all of my roommates and I could go out to different places and not risk sleeping on the street, and considering that I was tired anyway, it was a low-key night.
The next day, I woke up for an early but delicious breakfast of porridge (as far as I can tell, it’s just another name for oatmeal) and toast. I walked to ACCENT’s office a few blocks away and marveled at how nice the neighborhood is. The architecture is beautiful, the streets are wide, and there’s something to see everywhere I look. I can’t wait to further explore the area next time.
The morning was consumed with entertaining yet useless seminars on British culture. Yes, they tried to teach us British culture in a classroom. I laughed too. For almost two hours, we brainstormed famous British people, and when we had exhausted that extensive list (us Americans aren’t as insular as the lecturer seemed to think we are), we thought up symbols of Britain. The only useful information I gleaned from this discussion was the distinction between Great Britain and the United Kingdom. It turns out that Great Britain refers to the island consisting of England, Scotland and Wales, while the term United Kingdom is the political union of England, Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland. If you use this information to win a round of Final Jeopardy someday, I expect a fifteen percent share. Just so you know.
Anyway, I suppose it was all worth it since ACCENT took us out to lunch at an Indian restaurant, where I enjoyed spicy chicken curry, which apparently has become a national specialty. The afternoon session was thankfully shorter and more useful than the morning. ACCENT managed to convince me that no matter how careful I am, at some point in the next six months, I will a) lose my passport, b) have my purse stolen, c) be detained by French police because I forgot my passport or d) all of the above. I can’t wait.
After literally twenty minutes of interrogating poor Sorrel about the intricacies of the #24 bus line, I left for what has become my favorite place in all of England, my friend Riki’s flat. I felt reasonably confidence that I had actually hopped off at the right stop, and feeling smug, I started looking for the street I was supposed to walk down. When I couldn’t locate it within sixty seconds, I knew it was hopeless. Fortunately, there was a police officer standing rather uselessly at a corner, and I asked him for directions. He asked where I was from, and I soon became engaged in one of those stereotypical conversation Americans always seem to have abroad. It turned out he had visited Chicago not too long ago, and we talked about his trip for a few minutes. Then, he asked me what the hell was wrong with voters in Massachusetts, and we had a lively discussion about the benefits of nationalized (or nationalised, as I’m sure he would say) healthcare. He had his facts a bit wrong, but I give him an A for effort. I’ve been living in this country for three weeks, and I still couldn’t tell you what the current hot topic of debate is.
Dinner at Riki’s was delightful and delicious, and I finally met her daughter. I have to say, Iris makes the short list of the most adorable children I’ve ever met, and unlike most little kids, she actually seemed to like me! She’s not quite walking on her own yet, but with just a little assistance, she was more than happy to give me the grand tour of the place.
After some intense research, Riki and I (read: Riki) plotted the least complicated route to the Apollo Victoria Theatre, where I saw the musical Wicked with the rest of the Wash. U. students. It was amazing, even the second time around (I originally saw the national touring company when they came to Chicago five or so years ago). The actress who played Elphaba was fantastic, although Glinda wasn’t overly impressive, which is probably because I’ve been listening to the soundtrack. I don’t know what I was expecting, but the casts’ British accents took me by surprise and were more distracting than I anticipated (but in a good way). I had another quiet evening, which is just as well since I had to get up early for ACCENT’s tour of the city.
On Sunday, we had a colorful character named Angie guide us around London, using the tube and bus system. It was daunting at first, but now I think I could theoretically (emphasis on theoretically) figure out how to get myself from one part of the city to another using the public transportation. We walked around Westminster Abbey, Big Ben and the House of Parliament, and we saw the changing of the guards at Buckingham Palace, which I vividly remember from ten years ago. This was the first time since I’ve been here that I’ve actually felt and acted liked a tourist, and I had forgotten how much fun it is. I was disappointed that the Queen had obviously not received my invitation for afternoon tea since she wasn’t home, but I’m sure we’ll get together next time I’m there.
After lunch at a Chinese restaurant (it was an Eastern themed weekend on the food front), I decided it was time to go back to Brighton. I left the group and walked back to my hotel to collect my bag. The porter spent a good ten minutes in front of a huge map with me, trying to explain how to get to Victoria Station, which you astute readers may remember is the infamous location that caused me so much stress on my last trip to London. Despite his clear instructions to go to a particular tube station to catch a bus, because I am me, I managed to walk right by the correct bus stop. Twice. In fact, I wandered all the way to the next tube stop and waited ten minutes while a very friendly employee printed instructions to get me back to the correct bus stop. After that, I only had to ask one more person for directions before I found the stop, almost an hour after I left the hotel. I am beyond asking what is wrong with my brain, and I only wish that just once, JUST ONCE, I could get somewhere without getting lost! It’s true that I now have great confidence in my ability to eventually reach a destination no matter how turned around I get, but it would really be a pleasant change not to have to allot an extra hour for any sort of travel…
This time around, I went to the right part of Victoria station and bought the right ticket on my first try. I’m impressed, and you should be too. I made it to the station with twelve minutes to spare before my train left, and as it pulled out of the station, I patted myself on the back and began to plan the rest of my afternoon, since I would obviously be back in Brighton in an hour, tops. But I should have known that when I travel in England, it always has to be an adventure. My earlier unexpected walking tour obviously wasn’t enough for the travel gods, and soon, the conductor’s voice came over the loudspeaker and announced that we would be detouring at seven extra stops. At first, I didn’t think anything of it and assumed that we would be making a few local stops in between the larger stations that the train usually stopped at. However, two hours later, it was pretty clear that we had been rerouted completely out of our way. I had no idea where I was or how long it would be until the train made it to Brighton, but on the bright side, I had a nice tour of the English countryside, at least until the sun set. I did eventually arrive in Brighton, only a total of two and half hours after I had intended to return.
And that was my weekend in London. The next notable event occurred on Wednesday, when I was awakened by loud pounding on my door at an ungodly hour (okay, it was 9:45 a.m., but I didn’t have class that day and was looking forward to sleeping in!). It was the housekeepers, who had arrived to clean the black mold that has been cohabitating with me since I moved in. Here, I could make some snarky comment about how the cleaners only showed up a mere two and a half weeks after I reported the problem, but I wouldn’t do that…In any case, I was very much looking forward to my room’s odor disappearing. They opened the curtains, where the mold lives, and the two of them quite literally gasped in horror. Apparently, it was a pretty bad case of mold. They were able to get rid of about half of it, but the rest has become embedded in the paint. They said they would send someone to paint over it, because obviously that eliminates the problem of mold growing in my room…The best advice they could give me about preventing it in the future is to keep my window open (which doesn’t have a screen, by the way). In the middle of winter. And that funky odor in my room? It turns out that’s from the carpet, which probably hasn’t been cleaned since I’ve been alive. Even the housekeeper admitted it was unhygienic. Wash. U. housing, where have you gone??? Whew, thanks for bearing with me as I get that out of my system...I promise not to complain again for at least a week!
Thursday, I had a major presentation in my psychology class, but the less we say about that, the better…Last night, I went back to my favorite pub in Brighton (shush, I am allowed to call it my favorite even if I’ve only been there once before!) with friends for live music. We didn’t stay too long, but it was a good time, and I stand by my pick for favorite pub.
Tomorrow, I’m looking forward to another chance to be a proper tourist when I go to Windsor with the International Office for the day. In the meantime, keep your fingers crossed that the London weather doesn’t decide to follow me on this next mini-vacation!
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