I have literally nothing insightful to talk about from the past week. I have been sick with some odd flu/infection/earache/headache/unknownretrovirusthatwillmorphintothenextpandemic. To keep it simple, I've done nothing worth talking about that will give people a slice of English life to mull over or help anyone going abroad or thinking about going abroad build up their confidence about why they should make the trip to Where-ever, World. In fact, the amount of complaining I'm about to do might turn people off to the whole experience, but don't let me deter you I'm just some American guy in England with a blog, not the definitive expert on studying abroad. However, if you are someone thinking about going abroad that has stumbled upon this on accident or by request of one of the advisors at C-Geo, make sure you read the other blogs I've written or will write after this one as they'll offset the ridiculous amount of frustration I'm about to unleash. So now that the disclaimer is there, off we go to into the office Chris "The Criticism Captain" Thorburn.
I came back from Paris at noon two Sundays ago feeling good. I had just spent the week with my best friend sightseeing and joking around in Paris and London. However, as I sat down to eat lunch I started to feel tired which quickly thereafter went from travel exhaustion to full-fledged sickness. I spent the next 6 consecutive days in bed with myriad ailments ranging from fevers, shivers, coughing, sneezing, wheezing (whatever else they list on the Night-Quil commercials), thinking I'm going to throw up, ear aches, jaw pains (which apparently is normal with ear infections), complete sinus blockage, and it was all topped off with a 3 day mother of a headache like I've never had before. I'm not one to call home when I'm sick, but after about 5 straight days of this crap I had to call my dear old mother (she used to be a nurse) and get some thoughts. Since I literally couldn't breath out of my nose or get any type of (get ready to be grossed out) phlegm movement, I started wondering about clots and whatnot (one of the funny things you think about when you can sleep and muse that it might be your deathbed). She suggested, as I had already been doing, taking a really long hot shower. So back into my pod (it's a plastic room with a shower, sink, and toilette all together) for another hour of steam therapy I went.... to no avail. Luckily that night I fell asleep due to shear exhaustion while dreaming about what it felt like to live in Communist Russia.
Right, so last Saturday I wake up and decide I need to see a doctor (This is going to lead to my two major complaints about England which has, for the most part, been a very good and fun place to live). Since it's a Saturday the bus only runs every 30 minutes, however the bus guy arrived early meaning I waited for another 30 minutes on the street, sick and freezing in the cold (it might not have been that cold but my condition sure made it seem that way). So I waited and waited and waited giving me time to think and mull over some questionable things I've noticed here. First, for some reason the number of people at the University of Leicester is up in the air. Based on the percentages they gave in regards to student population versus city population, I surmised that the Uni has about 12,000 students. However the number 20,000 keeps popping up all over the place on school stuff. I refuse to believe that there are 20,000 students at the University, there is no way the amount of housing for first years and the size of the campus could support that many people. Maybe they have 20,000 people sharing internet through Beaumont Hall (our internet here is horribly slow), but there is no way that 20,000 people actively attend this University. It's gotten to the point that I feel like a character in one of those dystopian novels where the protagonist is forced to believe that a black pen is red by the people pulling strings behind the scenes. It's like the university says, "There are 20,000 people here" and everyone believes it because no one cares. Anyways so that's a lot of rambling, but it leads me to this complaint about the Uni. If there are, for purpose of argument, 20,000 students here... why are we relying on some crappy national bus service like Arriva with drivers who will half-ass the schedule when our university SHOULD be able to afford their own buses like we have at UT? If the University of Texas can have consistent bus service every 3-10 minutes throughout most of a city like Austin (horrible, horrible road system with the amount of traffic that goes through it), why can't the University of Leicester have a bus that will be there every 5-10 minutes? It's not like this is a major city and people live far away. It's Oadby and Leicester, stop making students wait 30 minutes to go into town or get back to their dorm.
Anyways back to the story. So I wait for 30 minutes, finally get a bus and ride it up to the campus medical center to find, surprise surprise, that it was closed. I don't know much about socialized medicine, but this is one topic where I'm going to vote "no" the next time some third-party member puts it on his Presidential agenda. What kind of sickbay is closed at 2 in the afternoon on a Saturday at a major University? I don't have a car, hardly anyone here does, so what am I supposed to do call an ambulance because the flu is beating me up? To make matters worse I mosey back over to the bus stop to realize that, surprise surprise, I have to wait another 30 minutes for the next bus.
So by the time I finally get back to the housing area, I've decided that I must make the trek up to ASDA to get some medicine. This is where living in a different culture really "shocks" you. Over-the-counter medicine really seems to be exactly that. I don't know if this is how it works at all drug stores and whatnot, but at this particular ASDA if you need anything medically-related (even bandages), a clerk behind the counter must get it for you. Now I was a bit relieved when the cheery clerk came up to me being all talkative asking me about my accent and where I was from," This is good, I'm going to get some relief," I thought to myself. WRONG. I don't know if she thought I was addicted to cold medicine or what, but she refused to sell me Sudafed after questioning me about my symptoms. Instead she advised me to seek "medical services" which I explained to her were closed upon which she responded, eerily like a recorder, the exact same thing she had just told me. "I advise you to seek medical services" appeared to become her mantra for the moment as all my rebuttals were responded to with a stark disdain for any real thought. Eventually she decided to "advise" me to use hot water treatment... thanks mom. So I left in utter frustration, cold, and quickly realizing that I had spent the past 2 hours of my life getting absolutely no medical treatment or help for an ailment which had afflicted me for nearly a week. Again, not voting "yes" for socialized medicine.
Luckily Flipper had just returned from his hockey match and was nice enough to go up to ASDA and buy me some Sudafed. I have no idea why they sold it to him and not me, but whatever. He was also smart enough to get me some orange juice citing the whole rhetoric around vitamin C and your health. So after drinking some of that, taking some Sudafed and sleeping well that night, I finally started to feel better. However even today, 3 days since getting the medicine, I still don't feel 100%. Anyways, because I've had two papers to turn in this week and because I excel in the art of procrastination, I've avoided going to the doctor. "Why go when you're getting better?" is my motto.
Anywho my last round of complaints is going to be about the papers due not-today and not-today. Confusing right? Well I have no one to blame but myself for the confusion about one of those papers that wasn't due today. My friend Lauren said they were due Tuesday so I assumed she meant today when in fact she meant next Tuesday. That's ok cause I had been working on it for awhile and finished it over the weekend. The paper that really busted my butt was my History of Arts paper about Alfred Hitchcock and David O. Selznick. This paper is due tomorrow, that's Wednesday, and I knew it. Yet last night at dinner my friend Bart planted a seed of confusion when he said it was due today, that's Tuesday. So I was very surprised this morning when I checked my inbox and found an email about turning in my History of Arts paper today at 5pm. In a mad dash I set to work (thank God I had done a good bit of preliminary reading) finishing my reading and forming a case study around the film Rebecca. I started at 10:30, worked till 1 when I had to go up to campus to give a presentation, and finished it while I ate lunch at the Red Fern (campus restraunt/pup that trumps anything we have at the good ol' Forty Acres). I finished about 3:30 with my paper and bibliography (for some reason I had to explain why I used each source besides the obvious reason, they talked about my topic), and went to turn it it online only to discover, surprise surprise, that the paper meant to be turned in today was for another History of Arts class. I'm not trying to whine too much about the practices at the HA office, this was after all my own fault for not reading the email as carefully as I should (who really reads emails seriously anyways?), but why on earth am I getting an email about another class? I'm not enrolled in this class, so isn't it logical that at the end-of-term-crunch-time I shouldn't be getting emails in regards to a class that I have nothing to do with? Again it's my own fault, but c'mon with 20,000 students (I jest) you should at least have some sort of up-to-date emailing system that differs between a History of Arts student in American Filmmakers and the Studio System versus a History of Arts student taking Film Analysis. It's one of those points that is probably moot and will annoy those of you who actually read this because it was my fault, but seriously c'mon figure out how to use Microsoft Office and email databases.
Ok so that's it, I'm sorry for the crass and massive amount of complaining and whining I've done but I'll end it on a light note. The main tower has this utterly frivolous lift system that is like a wooden elevator with multiple carts traveling up and down continuously on a pulley system. It's like some archaic form of movement (stairs instead of escalators anyone?) that makes even less sense, besides the obvious danger, because 10 feet away from it is a very nice and advanced elevator. Anywho, I seriously love this thing. The first time I rode it I thought I was going to die as it plunged into the abyss below floor 2 (who knew that "Alight Here" meant "Get off"?). As I was succumbed by darkness I convinced myself that this was the end, the cart would fold itself into some weird shape and crush me. Of course when you're life is flashing before your eyes you aren't thinking logically... would they actually make an elevator that crushed anyone who didn't get off in time? Of course not, only myself and Edgar Allen Poe (and maybe the people running The Spanish Inquisition) would devise such a device. Right, so I know this contraption makes no sense but just imagine one of those Hot Wheels lifts they have in the parking garage that lucky little kids get at Christmas. Anywho, so today I'm riding the thing because it's actually in service and I get the two biggest delights of a rather, wrongfully, stressful day. First I'm positive I saw Screech Powers riding one ahead of me and second this really rude women (she berated a friend of mine cause SHE bumped into his backpack) jumped on my cart which led to a moment of realization of profound proportions. Men actually have more style sense than women at times. Yes it's true, call my a misogynistic pig or "Chauvinistic Chris" or whatever have you, but please ladies DO NOT EVER wear purple lace stockings with purple shoes and a purple dress. In fact never wear purple lace stockings with anything, boycott the industry, down with whoever makes purple lace stockings.
Alright I'm done, peace out.
Chris
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Monday, March 19, 2007
In regards to social discrepancy and the return of The Prodigal Son...
Spring Break Part II: Please read the previous post as it's easy to miss that I updated earlier today.
Alright, so this week was fun. Adam, my best friend from Austin, came across the pond to the little island for a visit. However there were some complications.
First a foremost, make sure you charge your phone before taking a transatlantic flight. All I knew about his trip is that his plane got to London a little after nine and that he would be catching the train to Leicester (about a 1 hour ride) at noon. So I moseyed up to the train station getting there around 1:30 to find, surprise surprise, no Adam. On top of that his phone was going straight to voicemail meaning that a) it was dead, b) he couldn't get service in another country, c) he was in a bad situation. Assuming it was option a or b, I waited..... and waited and waited. I waited till the cows came home, which is about about 3:30 in lay terms, before submitting to hunger pains and hitting up the local Dixie Chicken. By the way, these little boutique chicken joints are a godsend. They're cheap, filling, and remind me of something you can only find on Riverside. I love it.
Anywho back to the story. On my way back to the train station I ran into Flipper upon his return from a weekend away meaning I was lucky enough to have a companion loitering at the train station with me. However this didn't last long as my patience ebbed and I returned to my room to start playing detective. First I tried calling Adam's dad, but because Skype calls show up on caller ID as the most random assortment of numbers (and maybe letters?) that anyone has ever seen, he didn't answer. So I finally succumbed to calling his ex-girlfriend to get his parent's number. Now don't get me wrong, I wasn't really worried at this point but I was quickly moving down the path of mother hen. So when I got ahold of his step-dad Mick, I may have flagged some worrisome parental nodes in the poor guy when I said "Adam is 5 hours late and I can't get ahold of him". I've never heard someone's demeanor go from cheerful (and Mick is an extraordinarily cheerful guy) to borderline panicked in such a short time. It's was like when pregnant ladies have those vicious mood swings that sitcoms love to showcase. Anyways he took down my cell number and I proceeded to go through my disaster checklist. First up was to check cnn.com for plane crashes. Second was to see if his plane arrived on time. Third was to call customs and see if he was being detained. Fourth was to get ahold of the train company (this proved impossible on Sunday). Luckily amidst the flurry of phone calls and webpage loads (the latter was more a sloth-like flurry considering how slow the internet is at my dorm) Mick got a hold of me saying Adam had just arrived at the train station. So although it was a bit worrisome, everything ended up just fine. However I did lose five hours of my life I'll never get back, and for that I blame you and your inability to use a pay phone Adam, fear my wrath. Luckily (for his sake) he came bearing peanut butter cookies which quickly diverted my fury focusing it on the consumption of cookies.
The first leg of SB2007 (I wonder how many peopled got that tattooed at South Padre or Cancun) took us to London on Wednesday early afternoon. We had a bit of trouble finding our hostile which appeared to be in a bootleg ghetto (yes this is possible, a weak ghetto) where young kids were screaming at us from the balconies of their counsel house balconies. Our group compromised of us two from Texas and six girls from Buffalo, two of who go to Leicester with me. In all honesty, I'm surprised no one was mugged. At one point in our trip we saw a domestic dispute at a chicken joint (HFC this time) which ended in some guy throwing a cup of Sprite at his lady friend and her attacking him then running out of the building with him in full pursuit. This felt like the part of London that Cops (tm) would make their living if they brought the show to England. Despite the constant fear of danger and worry about STD's from the hooker infested streets (err that sounds wrong, it was a dirty area that's all I mean) we got through the two days safely. My one regret about London day 1 (there is a day 2!) is that Adam didn't get a chance to go inside Westminster Abbey or The British Museum which I think have effects that no where in America can.
So the second leg of our journey took the prodigal son (that would be me) back to Paris for the second time in exactly six years. This trip was a little different than my previous travels, the first noticeable difference was the hostile we stayed in with our six companions. When I say that this hostile had a gangsta-lean, I literally mean it was leaning. Walking up to our fifth floor room proved to be quite a hassle not because there were so many steps, but because the steps leaned and sunk in odd ways bucking our awkward movements up and down the stairwell. On top of that, there was no desk person on duty for... well at all. The cleaning lady let us into our rooms, and we never really found anyone to properly check in. I'm still not sure whether we paid for our rooms or not, this place was thuggish ruggish to say the least. Another thing I didn't recall about Paris is how pricey this joint is. Adam broke down and paid 6.50 Euroes (about $9) for a glass of coke at one restaurant and the average tab for the 8 of us was about 70 Euros. This doesn't seem that bad until you realize that for the most part only Adam and I ate. The girls somehow convinced themselves that saving money by not eating was a good idea, I'm still not sure whether or not they realize that this behavior is a certifiable eating disorder (shopaholics we call them). We did manage to have a good time but the fun was taxing. I spent most of the time on the verge of sleep with sore feet. Adam and I only managed to hang at the Louvre (btw it's free for students after 6 on Weds/Fridays) for a little under two hours which is horrible by my standards. I mean this place has some of the most important art collections and easily the most famous individual work (Mona Lisa) in the world. Somewhere in the mix, we were able to visit Notre Dame, The Eiffel Tower, Champ Elysees, Arc de Triumph, and walk 45 minutes downriver in the wrong direction (my bad). One thing I found personally satisfying is the confidence I have as a traveler in unfamiliar cities. At one point Adam asked me if I was worried about being in a country where I didn't speak the language and the answer was a hearty no. This is a huge upside to going abroad and one of the few things that Austin and The University of Texas can't offer. I remember being in NYC last summer and being hesitant to use the subway by myself, now I'm all over the Metro, Ubahn, Tube or whatever other strange names different cities call their subways. It's a great feeling and an attitude that very few people have naturally, for most, like me, it only grows through experience.
Alright so I just realized how long and bulky the last paragraph was getting so I'm randomly starting a new one, deal with it. I was getting into the realm of horrid editing technique that only Peter Jackson (The director not sports analyst) is currently a member of from his Illiad and the Odysee length Lord of the Rings films. So back to the story, by the time we got to day 3 the two of us were so worn out (him from jetlag/travel and me from just being a wuss) that we spent three hours at an internet cafe playing video games with French people and perusing the internet. Somehow playing counterstrike against French guys became one of the highlights of our trip, I don't know how either but it was memorable. We finally got to the train station, couldn't find the girls, and boarded last minute without knowing where they were or if they had figured out the confusing process of getting on the Chunnel. With this particular eve being St. Patrick's Day we decided to hit up a pub called The Three Stags for some Guinness where the nice bar tender lady hooked us up some uber-dorky leprechaun hats for free. I'm pretty sure Adam is still wearing his.
Anyways, Adam and I woke up at 6:30 the next morning to get him back to the US and me on my way back to Leicester. Along the way my train broke, yes you read it right it broke, and I was forced to switch trains. With my keen eye for rule breaking I used this opportunity to upgrade myself to First Class on the new train, deal with it Mainline. Despite the posh treatment and cushy seats, I still didn't rest up enough to avoid to consequent sickness that came from travel, lack of sleep, and staying in the scariest hostel ever. When I got home yesterday I went down hard. You know what I'm talking about, I might as well have had Howard Cozel screaming "Down goes Thorburn! Down goes Thorburn!" to a live televised broadcast. I ended up staying in bed from about one yesterday afternoon till eight this morning. Somehow I mustered the strength to get up and write this, but I'm still in my PJs and my nose is running down my face at record pace.
So that's about it. It's been a long two weeks filled with ups and downs, travels, visits, good food and bad food, getting lost in London, getting sick in Leicester, babysitting, reading, and generally being worn out. But it's been a good two weeks and I've enjoyed myself.
And now for some random things I've learned or noticed:
Love peace chicken grease,
Chris
Alright, so this week was fun. Adam, my best friend from Austin, came across the pond to the little island for a visit. However there were some complications.
First a foremost, make sure you charge your phone before taking a transatlantic flight. All I knew about his trip is that his plane got to London a little after nine and that he would be catching the train to Leicester (about a 1 hour ride) at noon. So I moseyed up to the train station getting there around 1:30 to find, surprise surprise, no Adam. On top of that his phone was going straight to voicemail meaning that a) it was dead, b) he couldn't get service in another country, c) he was in a bad situation. Assuming it was option a or b, I waited..... and waited and waited. I waited till the cows came home, which is about about 3:30 in lay terms, before submitting to hunger pains and hitting up the local Dixie Chicken. By the way, these little boutique chicken joints are a godsend. They're cheap, filling, and remind me of something you can only find on Riverside. I love it.
Anywho back to the story. On my way back to the train station I ran into Flipper upon his return from a weekend away meaning I was lucky enough to have a companion loitering at the train station with me. However this didn't last long as my patience ebbed and I returned to my room to start playing detective. First I tried calling Adam's dad, but because Skype calls show up on caller ID as the most random assortment of numbers (and maybe letters?) that anyone has ever seen, he didn't answer. So I finally succumbed to calling his ex-girlfriend to get his parent's number. Now don't get me wrong, I wasn't really worried at this point but I was quickly moving down the path of mother hen. So when I got ahold of his step-dad Mick, I may have flagged some worrisome parental nodes in the poor guy when I said "Adam is 5 hours late and I can't get ahold of him". I've never heard someone's demeanor go from cheerful (and Mick is an extraordinarily cheerful guy) to borderline panicked in such a short time. It's was like when pregnant ladies have those vicious mood swings that sitcoms love to showcase. Anyways he took down my cell number and I proceeded to go through my disaster checklist. First up was to check cnn.com for plane crashes. Second was to see if his plane arrived on time. Third was to call customs and see if he was being detained. Fourth was to get ahold of the train company (this proved impossible on Sunday). Luckily amidst the flurry of phone calls and webpage loads (the latter was more a sloth-like flurry considering how slow the internet is at my dorm) Mick got a hold of me saying Adam had just arrived at the train station. So although it was a bit worrisome, everything ended up just fine. However I did lose five hours of my life I'll never get back, and for that I blame you and your inability to use a pay phone Adam, fear my wrath. Luckily (for his sake) he came bearing peanut butter cookies which quickly diverted my fury focusing it on the consumption of cookies.
The first leg of SB2007 (I wonder how many peopled got that tattooed at South Padre or Cancun) took us to London on Wednesday early afternoon. We had a bit of trouble finding our hostile which appeared to be in a bootleg ghetto (yes this is possible, a weak ghetto) where young kids were screaming at us from the balconies of their counsel house balconies. Our group compromised of us two from Texas and six girls from Buffalo, two of who go to Leicester with me. In all honesty, I'm surprised no one was mugged. At one point in our trip we saw a domestic dispute at a chicken joint (HFC this time) which ended in some guy throwing a cup of Sprite at his lady friend and her attacking him then running out of the building with him in full pursuit. This felt like the part of London that Cops (tm) would make their living if they brought the show to England. Despite the constant fear of danger and worry about STD's from the hooker infested streets (err that sounds wrong, it was a dirty area that's all I mean) we got through the two days safely. My one regret about London day 1 (there is a day 2!) is that Adam didn't get a chance to go inside Westminster Abbey or The British Museum which I think have effects that no where in America can.
So the second leg of our journey took the prodigal son (that would be me) back to Paris for the second time in exactly six years. This trip was a little different than my previous travels, the first noticeable difference was the hostile we stayed in with our six companions. When I say that this hostile had a gangsta-lean, I literally mean it was leaning. Walking up to our fifth floor room proved to be quite a hassle not because there were so many steps, but because the steps leaned and sunk in odd ways bucking our awkward movements up and down the stairwell. On top of that, there was no desk person on duty for... well at all. The cleaning lady let us into our rooms, and we never really found anyone to properly check in. I'm still not sure whether we paid for our rooms or not, this place was thuggish ruggish to say the least. Another thing I didn't recall about Paris is how pricey this joint is. Adam broke down and paid 6.50 Euroes (about $9) for a glass of coke at one restaurant and the average tab for the 8 of us was about 70 Euros. This doesn't seem that bad until you realize that for the most part only Adam and I ate. The girls somehow convinced themselves that saving money by not eating was a good idea, I'm still not sure whether or not they realize that this behavior is a certifiable eating disorder (shopaholics we call them). We did manage to have a good time but the fun was taxing. I spent most of the time on the verge of sleep with sore feet. Adam and I only managed to hang at the Louvre (btw it's free for students after 6 on Weds/Fridays) for a little under two hours which is horrible by my standards. I mean this place has some of the most important art collections and easily the most famous individual work (Mona Lisa) in the world. Somewhere in the mix, we were able to visit Notre Dame, The Eiffel Tower, Champ Elysees, Arc de Triumph, and walk 45 minutes downriver in the wrong direction (my bad). One thing I found personally satisfying is the confidence I have as a traveler in unfamiliar cities. At one point Adam asked me if I was worried about being in a country where I didn't speak the language and the answer was a hearty no. This is a huge upside to going abroad and one of the few things that Austin and The University of Texas can't offer. I remember being in NYC last summer and being hesitant to use the subway by myself, now I'm all over the Metro, Ubahn, Tube or whatever other strange names different cities call their subways. It's a great feeling and an attitude that very few people have naturally, for most, like me, it only grows through experience.
Alright so I just realized how long and bulky the last paragraph was getting so I'm randomly starting a new one, deal with it. I was getting into the realm of horrid editing technique that only Peter Jackson (The director not sports analyst) is currently a member of from his Illiad and the Odysee length Lord of the Rings films. So back to the story, by the time we got to day 3 the two of us were so worn out (him from jetlag/travel and me from just being a wuss) that we spent three hours at an internet cafe playing video games with French people and perusing the internet. Somehow playing counterstrike against French guys became one of the highlights of our trip, I don't know how either but it was memorable. We finally got to the train station, couldn't find the girls, and boarded last minute without knowing where they were or if they had figured out the confusing process of getting on the Chunnel. With this particular eve being St. Patrick's Day we decided to hit up a pub called The Three Stags for some Guinness where the nice bar tender lady hooked us up some uber-dorky leprechaun hats for free. I'm pretty sure Adam is still wearing his.
Anyways, Adam and I woke up at 6:30 the next morning to get him back to the US and me on my way back to Leicester. Along the way my train broke, yes you read it right it broke, and I was forced to switch trains. With my keen eye for rule breaking I used this opportunity to upgrade myself to First Class on the new train, deal with it Mainline. Despite the posh treatment and cushy seats, I still didn't rest up enough to avoid to consequent sickness that came from travel, lack of sleep, and staying in the scariest hostel ever. When I got home yesterday I went down hard. You know what I'm talking about, I might as well have had Howard Cozel screaming "Down goes Thorburn! Down goes Thorburn!" to a live televised broadcast. I ended up staying in bed from about one yesterday afternoon till eight this morning. Somehow I mustered the strength to get up and write this, but I'm still in my PJs and my nose is running down my face at record pace.
So that's about it. It's been a long two weeks filled with ups and downs, travels, visits, good food and bad food, getting lost in London, getting sick in Leicester, babysitting, reading, and generally being worn out. But it's been a good two weeks and I've enjoyed myself.
And now for some random things I've learned or noticed:
- I haven't seen Phil in over two weeks, apparently he's broken his record for longest time away from Uni and is up to nineteen, yes folks that's right NINETEEN, consecutive days without being here. Hopefully I can get ahold of him and hit up Edinburgh during my epic length Spring Break which goes from March 28th-May 3rd. I'm pretty sure Peter Jackson is editing the dates for that break.
- Alastair and Charlie are definitely a couple. They nitpick, argue, fight, wrestle, tickle (weird huh?), and practically live together. Of course when I say they're a couple I mean it in a totally manly-man way.
- Another funny thing I've noticed is that these two wrestle as if they were brothers. Not a day goes by without Charlie trying to tackle Alastair, however Ali always wins. His monopoly over their fights might change soon as his girlfriend recently divulged Ali's weakness, nipple twisters.
- Also I just realized that Alastaire's email is frodo_huddy@hotmail com. I don't know what this means, but I'm intrigued.
- Flipper is coming to America to live with me and Adam, it doesn't matter what he says about our country this guy is our new little brother.
- Adam smells funny.
- French guys have the best accent to mimic ever. It's so simple and can easily be used to confuse other American tourists and beggars.
- Spanish women are smokin hot.
- Spanish women are smokin too many cigarettes. Not hot.
- Being sick is really not fun, especially if your mother or girlfriend isn't around to dote on your every need.
- Scotch and tea is not a good remedy for a sore throat.
- Cold weather + sickness makes me really lazy, walking to ASDA (Wal-Mart) is such an annoyance to me that I've been two days now without minutes on my pay-as-you-go cell phone or cheese.
- It is freaking cold here. When you couple sickness with weather that Texas doesn't get on sunny days like this, you start to notice just how different the climate really is.
- I must be the only person who prefers rain to sun. Maybe it's due to my painfully pale skin, but I'm going to attribute it to the serenity of a shower.
- I need to figure out how to import Strongbow to the US. I'm for real, this drink is a serious cash cow. Every American I've talked to here loves the stuff and whoever gets the rights to distribute it in the US is on their way to millions.
- There is nothing that draws in attention like drunk American girls. Holy cow I was so busy defending their loudness, yelling at them about their loudness, apologizing to French and English people for their loudness, and arguing with the crass French dude about whether or not it was my job to police the girls actions or not (I say it's not).
Love peace chicken grease,
Chris
Hokay so here is the earth...
Since it's been a long time since I last posted, I'm going to break this blog down into two parts as I have a lot to talk about. The last two weeks have been really busy with school, friends to entertain, and travel but somewhere in the mix of all that I actually had time to sit and ponder some of the things you miss when living abroad.
I remember a former study abroad student telling me that my time in England would feel like one big vacation, and so far he's been right. I travel quite a bit, only have to attend 3 classes per week, and have more free time than ever before. I fill my days with guitar, soccer, reading magazines, lounging, and playing computer games with my friend Flipper. It's not too much different than home, just less taxing. However despite that I constantly feel tired which can only be attributed to travel and lack the of feeling at home. Don't get me wrong I'm definitely comfortable here, but it's not home and the subsequent comfortable feeling home gives. This might be due to some mild form of culture shock or whatever, but I'm gonna attribute it to what I like to call vacation-pains. You all know what I mean. Think about that feeling you have after returning from a ski trip to Colorado, or Spring Break at the beach, or a trip to New York with someone who wants to see every site (sight?). It's that mild exhaustion you get after spending hours in airports and just need to be in your own bed, however I can't be in my own bed. So it's not that I'm unhappy or anything like that, just feel a bit stuck in vacation purgatory.
Another downside to being abroad are the family events that I miss while across the pond. I'm not going to lie part of the point of this semester is to scout out other countries I would be interested in living in, even if just for a little while. England is a great country and I'm enamored with the city of London, however moving here full time would be a tough choice. I'm used to seeing my parents, siblings, in-laws, and nieces and nephews all the time. I don't feel as if being here has taken a toll on me or that I'm in some despondent rut, but I do miss the interactions with people I'm used to having around me. For instance, about two weeks ago my brother and his wife had their first child and all I've been able to see is a picture whereas my parents flew out to see them. I'm not saying I could have pulled the strings to get out to California for Ben's birth, but I'm not saying that I couldn't have either. On top of that, last week my closest Cousin got married which is a wedding I definitely feel I should have been at, but it's just not practical or economical to return home for a single weekend.
To me this is the anomaly of being abroad. Taking this journey really is rewarding in terms of getting out of your comfort zone and growing as an individual, at the very least I'm fortifying my resume. However I'm also missing some important family events which I will never again have the chance to attend. This makes me wonder about the impact it would have on me if I were to move here for work after graduation. At this time I can't really form a solid answer or opinion, after all this still feels like one long vacation. But I must be honest there is something enchanting about this country, and I'm not at all opposed to trying to live here if I find a job after graduation.
Speaking of graduation, I'm in a weird place because I've started to realize, little by little, that within a very short time I will be on my own and needing a job. So, assuming my career as a chef doesn't pan out (Still no one wanting to sponsor my TV show!) I'm going to need to line something up in the very near future otherwise I'll be moving back to the guest house which I doubt my father would like to happen. I'd like to take this time plug in some shameless self promotion. If anyone reading this works for or knows a company in the market for a young, handsome, dependable, future UT grad with a knack for communication and grammar skills that borderline obsessive, hook me up. One thing I've learned is that having the degree matters most and since ESPN hasn't gotten back to me about that job as a senior NBA columnist (I would sooooo be money) I'll take anything interesting.
Anywho, I'm sure the melancholy undertones of this post sent off all kinds of motherly instincts in my mom (send sugar cookies please!) but rest assured I'm not depressed or anything like that. I'm just having to deal with the realities of living abroad and being away from people that matter to me. As I said before (at least I think I did...) weighing the pros and cons of moving away from home is a tough line to walk. There are upsides and downsides which are plain to see, but making a choice about which points hold more merit is not so simple.
I remember a former study abroad student telling me that my time in England would feel like one big vacation, and so far he's been right. I travel quite a bit, only have to attend 3 classes per week, and have more free time than ever before. I fill my days with guitar, soccer, reading magazines, lounging, and playing computer games with my friend Flipper. It's not too much different than home, just less taxing. However despite that I constantly feel tired which can only be attributed to travel and lack the of feeling at home. Don't get me wrong I'm definitely comfortable here, but it's not home and the subsequent comfortable feeling home gives. This might be due to some mild form of culture shock or whatever, but I'm gonna attribute it to what I like to call vacation-pains. You all know what I mean. Think about that feeling you have after returning from a ski trip to Colorado, or Spring Break at the beach, or a trip to New York with someone who wants to see every site (sight?). It's that mild exhaustion you get after spending hours in airports and just need to be in your own bed, however I can't be in my own bed. So it's not that I'm unhappy or anything like that, just feel a bit stuck in vacation purgatory.
Another downside to being abroad are the family events that I miss while across the pond. I'm not going to lie part of the point of this semester is to scout out other countries I would be interested in living in, even if just for a little while. England is a great country and I'm enamored with the city of London, however moving here full time would be a tough choice. I'm used to seeing my parents, siblings, in-laws, and nieces and nephews all the time. I don't feel as if being here has taken a toll on me or that I'm in some despondent rut, but I do miss the interactions with people I'm used to having around me. For instance, about two weeks ago my brother and his wife had their first child and all I've been able to see is a picture whereas my parents flew out to see them. I'm not saying I could have pulled the strings to get out to California for Ben's birth, but I'm not saying that I couldn't have either. On top of that, last week my closest Cousin got married which is a wedding I definitely feel I should have been at, but it's just not practical or economical to return home for a single weekend.
To me this is the anomaly of being abroad. Taking this journey really is rewarding in terms of getting out of your comfort zone and growing as an individual, at the very least I'm fortifying my resume. However I'm also missing some important family events which I will never again have the chance to attend. This makes me wonder about the impact it would have on me if I were to move here for work after graduation. At this time I can't really form a solid answer or opinion, after all this still feels like one long vacation. But I must be honest there is something enchanting about this country, and I'm not at all opposed to trying to live here if I find a job after graduation.
Speaking of graduation, I'm in a weird place because I've started to realize, little by little, that within a very short time I will be on my own and needing a job. So, assuming my career as a chef doesn't pan out (Still no one wanting to sponsor my TV show!) I'm going to need to line something up in the very near future otherwise I'll be moving back to the guest house which I doubt my father would like to happen. I'd like to take this time plug in some shameless self promotion. If anyone reading this works for or knows a company in the market for a young, handsome, dependable, future UT grad with a knack for communication and grammar skills that borderline obsessive, hook me up. One thing I've learned is that having the degree matters most and since ESPN hasn't gotten back to me about that job as a senior NBA columnist (I would sooooo be money) I'll take anything interesting.
Anywho, I'm sure the melancholy undertones of this post sent off all kinds of motherly instincts in my mom (send sugar cookies please!) but rest assured I'm not depressed or anything like that. I'm just having to deal with the realities of living abroad and being away from people that matter to me. As I said before (at least I think I did...) weighing the pros and cons of moving away from home is a tough line to walk. There are upsides and downsides which are plain to see, but making a choice about which points hold more merit is not so simple.
Monday, March 5, 2007
The week that that was...
Last week was one of those "blah" weeks that the chick flicks showcase and end by having the actresses veg out with some desserts and movies at home. You all know what I'm talking about, those weeks that really just take it out of you and cause you to turn hermit al fin de semana (that weekend) and not do anything. For me this meant not going to Scotland, clubs, bars, dinner, breakfast, the bathroom, outside etc. A psychologist might have called it "depression" I call it mandatory nap time.
Now it might not seem a great topic to talk about but there is a lesson here. After all there is a lesson learned in anything, right? I'm not sure either but that's what adults have always told me. Anywho, the important thing that I realized and anyone considering coming abroad should realize that there are down weeks where you just have to put your nose to the grindstone and muscle out some work and then take some alone time instead of jetsetting across Europe for the weekend. As my adviser (and maybe one of yours someday) Laura Bayne put it, this is part of the roller coaster of going abroad. It had to happen eventually, the low point where you get homesick and need to just mentally flush things out. It was a build up of factors, lack of sleep, drinking, traveling to Berlin all weekend, and actually having to do some serious work that just built up and knocked me down. And maybe it took me a few days to get over it, but once you do it is freakin sweet. You get your energy back and actually feel like being productive (see I do write my blog!) so I guess it's just important to note that you'll get over the dip, you just gotta keep going.
The downside of the "downside" is that I don't have any good stories this week. I lost my bus pass in Berlin last weekend so I pretty much just stayed in as paying $3 to ride the bus one way isn't very economical and neither is riding the bus to a place where I'll just spend more money. Some American friends of mine are surprised that I don't ever go to City Centre because they love it there, in all honesty it probably reminds them of home a bit. Malls, department stores, people shopping etc. I have this problem about being a compulsive spender and so I know that if I go anywhere near that place I'll spend because I can somehow (go:figure::stinking:advertising) rationalize needing a new jacket or shoes.... which I unfortunately did on both accounts the one and only time I've been to city center. The other downside is that you're buying regular consumer quality products that you can get in the US or here, but you're paying twice the price when considering how much butt kicking the pound is doing these days in the global economy.
Speaking of the economy, I get really annoyed with my American peers who translate every pound they spend into dollars and then complain. I know it might sound a bit hypocritical after my previous paragraph but bear with me here. When I complain it's about lifestyle products, clothes, shoes, sunglasses etc. Some of them do the calculations for everything including food, drinks, bus passes, feminine products or whatever. Basically things that most people consider essential (if you're not a minimalist) to life. My argument is that when you consider the ratio of income to spending in England, it's about the same as America. If someone in England Makes 50,000 pounds a year and spends 45,000 of those pounds, they have pretty much the same lifestyle as an American who makes $50,000 and spends $45,000. So yeah while it hurts those of us here, I think it's a bit ridiculous that some Americans assume English people are wealthier just because they have a stronger currency. On a side note, it's pretty simple to see why England doesn't want to jump on the Euro bandwagon (or as my friend Flipper called "a flaming train wreck"). All national pride aside, it comes down to simple economics.
In other news I've become the resident chef of Beaumont Hall Block 3. My skill with the blade, block, and steel (read: pans) have rendered me a formidable reputation around this joint. Be looking for me line of cook books, cutlery, and pots and pans at your local Targets, Wal-Mart, ASDAs, and Saks 5th Avenue. I haven't decided on my namesake yet, it's either Chris "The Pasta Blasta" Thorburn (they pronounce it pa-sta, not pah-sta here) or Chris "The Raman Shaman" Thorburn. I'm leaning towards the latter.
I'm already planning my first infomercial. It'll be like a Barry Scott or Emeril, "Bam, this is Chris "The Kitchen King" Thorburn to sell you my cookbook 1001 Ways Raman Noodles Can Improve Your Life". You guys can see where this is going, up baby! (Seriously, someone fund me it's a sure success)
Au'revoir,
<3 Chris "The Pasta Blasta" Thorburn
Now it might not seem a great topic to talk about but there is a lesson here. After all there is a lesson learned in anything, right? I'm not sure either but that's what adults have always told me. Anywho, the important thing that I realized and anyone considering coming abroad should realize that there are down weeks where you just have to put your nose to the grindstone and muscle out some work and then take some alone time instead of jetsetting across Europe for the weekend. As my adviser (and maybe one of yours someday) Laura Bayne put it, this is part of the roller coaster of going abroad. It had to happen eventually, the low point where you get homesick and need to just mentally flush things out. It was a build up of factors, lack of sleep, drinking, traveling to Berlin all weekend, and actually having to do some serious work that just built up and knocked me down. And maybe it took me a few days to get over it, but once you do it is freakin sweet. You get your energy back and actually feel like being productive (see I do write my blog!) so I guess it's just important to note that you'll get over the dip, you just gotta keep going.
The downside of the "downside" is that I don't have any good stories this week. I lost my bus pass in Berlin last weekend so I pretty much just stayed in as paying $3 to ride the bus one way isn't very economical and neither is riding the bus to a place where I'll just spend more money. Some American friends of mine are surprised that I don't ever go to City Centre because they love it there, in all honesty it probably reminds them of home a bit. Malls, department stores, people shopping etc. I have this problem about being a compulsive spender and so I know that if I go anywhere near that place I'll spend because I can somehow (go:figure::stinking:advertising) rationalize needing a new jacket or shoes.... which I unfortunately did on both accounts the one and only time I've been to city center. The other downside is that you're buying regular consumer quality products that you can get in the US or here, but you're paying twice the price when considering how much butt kicking the pound is doing these days in the global economy.
Speaking of the economy, I get really annoyed with my American peers who translate every pound they spend into dollars and then complain. I know it might sound a bit hypocritical after my previous paragraph but bear with me here. When I complain it's about lifestyle products, clothes, shoes, sunglasses etc. Some of them do the calculations for everything including food, drinks, bus passes, feminine products or whatever. Basically things that most people consider essential (if you're not a minimalist) to life. My argument is that when you consider the ratio of income to spending in England, it's about the same as America. If someone in England Makes 50,000 pounds a year and spends 45,000 of those pounds, they have pretty much the same lifestyle as an American who makes $50,000 and spends $45,000. So yeah while it hurts those of us here, I think it's a bit ridiculous that some Americans assume English people are wealthier just because they have a stronger currency. On a side note, it's pretty simple to see why England doesn't want to jump on the Euro bandwagon (or as my friend Flipper called "a flaming train wreck"). All national pride aside, it comes down to simple economics.
In other news I've become the resident chef of Beaumont Hall Block 3. My skill with the blade, block, and steel (read: pans) have rendered me a formidable reputation around this joint. Be looking for me line of cook books, cutlery, and pots and pans at your local Targets, Wal-Mart, ASDAs, and Saks 5th Avenue. I haven't decided on my namesake yet, it's either Chris "The Pasta Blasta" Thorburn (they pronounce it pa-sta, not pah-sta here) or Chris "The Raman Shaman" Thorburn. I'm leaning towards the latter.
I'm already planning my first infomercial. It'll be like a Barry Scott or Emeril, "Bam, this is Chris "The Kitchen King" Thorburn to sell you my cookbook 1001 Ways Raman Noodles Can Improve Your Life". You guys can see where this is going, up baby! (Seriously, someone fund me it's a sure success)
Au'revoir,
<3 Chris "The Pasta Blasta" Thorburn
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