Week Four
Here is week four January 25th - February 1st. Wow, a whole month in already! Check out the Gilman Foundation’s website http://www.iie.org//programs/gilman/index.html to see if you’re eligible for financial aid to study abroad. $$$$$ = Good. Gilman = $$$$. Therefore, Gilman = Good too!
January 25th
Now that I have a lab, my Wednesdays last from 9am to 7:30 at night. That’s not counting waking up, eating, and bus time. I miss not having class and just wandering aimlessly throughout the city.
Sprung for chips with mozzarella chips melted over them. Oh, the things these people do with fries! And people actually make fun of English food! Almost decided against going to the chippy, (a place that sells fries/chips), but I’m pretty sure this homeless guy was following me. He slowed down, sped up, and crossed the street with me, so it was kinda scary. If I’m going to get mugged, first I’m going to eat my chips, dammit!
My lab was…aggravating. I couldn’t sign on to the computer for some reason, so I ask for help. Big mistake.
“Have you put your password in there?”
(Uhhh, yeah. I do this like 10 times a day. Thank you very much) “Yes”
“And it’s the right one?”
(NOPE, you got me! I thought it was wrong password day! The one and only day of the year where you just put whatever you want in there and it works out hunky dory!) “Yes”
“Well try again.”
These are the people teaching me?! Something isn’t working and I should just keep beating my head against the wall doing the same thing?! Especially when I HAVE been trying for like ten minutes now! Why did I bother in the first place? I just move to another computer, and it works out fine. Stupid British technology
So then, I notice my wallets missing. Why, because Einstein over there wanted me to really REALLY inspect my password so I took it out for a look. Fun stuff. So, I’m patting myself down like cops on a drug search, and basically tearing my little section apart. My money, debit card, student ID, and bus pass are all in there; my life basically. If that goes, I’m rather screwed. Meanwhile, another lecturer comes in and is getting the class started and explaining everything. Good, good, way to start off right here Greg. The computer guy thinks I’m an idiot, the class thinks I really enjoy patting my ass, and the professor thinks I’m un-prepared. Excellent. Well right now I’m a little too distracted to care what they think, or what he has to say. I find it under a keyboard, thank God.
So now that I’m completely lost, I ask for help again. I get the professor and his little teaching assistant. I should’ve learned the first time.
“Sorry about missing that, but can you just tell me where to click to get started?”
“What!?”
(What am I doing? Speaking Chinese here?) “How do I get started? I can figure the rest out myself.”
Remember those professors I said were so nice and helpful? He isn’t one of them. With this question, the professor rolls his eyes and walks away. This is the guy I asked for help about my presentation before, and he wasn’t so great then either. I notice the Timberland boots he’s wearing never have any mud on them, and he’s probably just trying to seem taller. Perhaps the stick up his ass is meant to add a few inches too.
So his little TA chick gets me started and I’m well on my way. It’s a rather elementary program about neurons actually, something like you’d find in high school. Especially a high school that doesn’t have the money to do real tests on real nerves, so you settle for this virtual simulation piece of crap.
Ms. TA lapdog comes by to check up on us.
TA: So are you managing all right?
BRAIN: Doing a bit more than just managing thank you very much.
MOUTH: Just redoing this part ‘cuz I’m pretty sure I did it wrong the first time”
TA: Well, why’d you do it wrong?
BRAIN: I dunno, maybe if I knew it was wrong, I wouldn’t have done it this way in the first place, you stupid bitch!
MOUTH: I dunno…
TA: Well everyone else has 45 for their values and YOU only have 2!
MOUTH: Like I said, I did it wrong. (That’s a bit better mouth, good job)
TA: Well you shouldn’t have done it wrong!
BRAIN: Do you hate everyone, or is it just me? America maybe? You’ll make a great teacher some day, with your students knowing how wrong they are all the time.
MOUTH: “I know, that’s why I’m DOING…IT… AGAIN.” (All right, good compromise brain and mouth)
I think she can see that I’m getting a bit pissed off, and that she is being a bit of an asshole, but of course she can’t admit that to a student, so she just walks away. Good, I know what I’m doing now and don’t need her anyway. She’ll probably have a stimulating evening of watching Big Brother, and telling her cat that she is purring wrong.
Lesson here: I will not let myself be belittled and spoken to that way again. Even by Dr. Short stuff and his sidekick Captain Constructive Criticism. They can piss off.
January 26th
Woke up very sick and very filled with snot today. This whole week has been kind of crappy. Maybe this is my “week of depression” they said everyone experiences at orientation. This is the week where everything goes wrong, and you want to go home. Well it hasn’t been THAT bad, but it hasn’t exactly been great either.
Went to city center to look for a present for my sister, but had no such luck. She’d go nuts here with all the shopping she could do.
Went to a German grocery store near the Curry Mile (how diverse!) called LIDL. Its too far away to do regular shopping, but the place has really good deals. Too bad I don’t know what most of the stuff is; maybe I should learn some German.
Megan bought me a foot long hotdog at the potato stand today, which was really nice of her. She’s been looking after me since I’ve been sick, and it’s been a big help. Hotdogs here are more like a brat-worst than the hot dogs we’re used to at home. Still delicious though.
Went home and she went to rest for a bit. Aha! My chance has arrived. Megan is kind of bossy in the kitchen, and gets to do all the fun stuff. I usually end up with the jobs like opening cans, or putting the plates out. Sometimes, if I’m really nice, I get to help drain something. I like to cook, and it’s really frustrating because I never get to do anything. (Personally, I think I could do a better job than her, but that’s another conversation).
So, I’m doing great. My pastas boiling, the sauce is heating up, the veggies are chopped. Fantastic. Then, she wakes up, and proceeds to take over. All hell breaks loose. She dumps all the rest of the pasta in, yeah, all of it, enough for four people. The pots not that big either, so we have pasta spilling out everywhere, we aren’t going eat all this, and I hate wasting things so I’m ready to just jump out the window here. Now, I can’t even mix the sauce in, because A) there is too much pasta in the way, and B) Megan will probably do it! I was doing sooooooo good. And she ruined it! Ahhhhhhhhhh! Not only was my job taken away from me; she stole it AND did a bad job cooking it.
It gets better. Then, she drinks all the milk. And there was loads left too. She just drank it! Didn’t ask if I wanted some, didn’t save any, didn’t care, she just drank it. Grrrrrrr! So now I have to make it through breakfast, tea, lunch, and some more tea without milk.
This normally is not a big deal. But I guess this is the depressing week from hell, and everything is just piled on top of everything else, and…it just plain sucks.
January 27th
Oh man. I’m so tired.
Waited in line for ten minutes with the cold wind and rain for the cash machine, only to find out they had no money left. This is still better than getting up there and finding out I have no money left, so I’m taking this as a bonus.
Went to drama today and realized I didn’t read a play I should have for class today. Whoops. Well it wasn’t even on the reading list, so I don’t know how everyone else knew what to do. Good news though, my lecturer lost her voice so I only had one out of three hours of class today!!! That also means I didn’t have to discuss the play I didn’t read. Excellent. Things are looking up for Greg. Will have to be more on the ball next week.
Met up at Ramsay’s flat around three for the drive to Nottingham. His Dad, Mohammed, is originally from Iraq, and has been a doctor here for quite a while. Short and stocky like Ramsay, he is darker and bigger. Some might say he is the human Iraqi version of Fred Flintstone.
We drove on the M6 from Manchester through Birmingham all the way to Nottingham. It was about a 2-hour drive, but that’s with a Friday afternoon traffic. These roundabouts have discouraged me from attempting any kind of driving in the country. (Americans with a normal driver’s license can actually drive here for up to a year before getting a British license.) Passed lots of green fields, and sheep, which always reminds me that I’m England. Not that I forget, but sometimes you just get these moments like “Whoa! Dude, I’m in England. Holy Crap!” Ramsay lives in a little village just outside of Nottingham called Radcliff on Trent.
Met his mother, Rona, who looks just like Ramsay’s sister Najwa. If you squint I guess you can see some Ramsay in there too. His little brother, Liam, is like a little personal pan version of Ramsay. Half the size, but twice the energy. This kid also knows everything there is to know about the Simpson’s.
His mum cooked a wonderful dinner with chicken and veggies in a tomato sauce, served with rice, as well as pita bread, hummus, and cucumber sauce. And an actual salad, not just lettuce and tomatoes like in the dorm, but like with real leafy greens and what not. We had an awesome chocolate cake, with cream poured all over it, for desert. Everything was delicious, and it was so nice to sit in a real dining room and have a family sit-down dinner.
Even if they’re not my family, or even American, it still reminds me of home. Mohammed seems to get Ramsay and Liam confused quite a bit, his Mum is trying to get Liam to stop talking and eat his food, and Ramsay is obviously happy to be back home and get some great food and his washing done. A homecoming is pretty much the same everywhere I guess. Watching The Simpsons was a nice touch of home too.
January 28th
I woke up today with the sun shining over another one of those green pastures out my window. His family probably thought it was a bit weird to be taking pictures of the empty field in their backyard, but its very scenic.
Ramsay’s mum and dad made us one of those traditional English breakfasts I’d been hankering for. I was not to be disappointed. Fried eggs (some covered in cheese, what a good idea!), sausage, bacon, black pudding, baked beans, and diced tomatoes. Mmmmmmmmm. Breakfast won’t ever be the same again. The bacon here is not nearly as fatty, so you actually get some meat to eat instead of just gristle. I think the idea here is to put a fried egg on toast, then put a little but of everything else on it too and have like an open-faced breakfast sandwich. It’s well nice. Beans and tomatoes are a nice (and healthy) addition to any meal.
The term pudding is used a little loosely in this country. I have yet to see any Bill Cosby, “there’s always room for J-E-LL-O” kind of pudding, but there are random things that seem to constitute pudding here in the UK. Black pudding is oats, some wheat; pig parts (which ones? Who knows, who cares?), and the black part? That’s pig’s blood. I didn’t know that when I ate it, but it won’t deter me now. The stuff is actually quite nice. It supposedly tastes like haggis, but I compare it to a sausage without any of the spices.
We rode through the village on the way to Nottingham castle, which is exactly what you’d imagine when you think “typical English village”. Passed over the River Trent for an excellent view of the countryside, and then boom, we’re standing on Maid Marian Way in front of a giant castle. Learned a lot about England and Robin Hood. Ok, so I learned A LOT about Robin Hood. My God. There sure is a lot of stuff for a dude they’re not even sure is real or not!
The tour of the castle was excellent. The view at the top overlooking all of Nottingham is just amazing. There is the little village to your right, and the more developed city parts to your left; there are mountains off in the distance. Everything is covered by a thin fog, and when its reflected off the sunlight, everything is tinged in light blue.
Then we went to Tales of Robin Hood. Its kind of an interactive museum all about Nottingham’s favorite son. We squeezed into this ancient cart thing and they rode us around the place, while wooden characters popped out and lectured you on Robin and his merry men. Although the place is mostly for the younger set, it was cool and we had some laughs.
Then we walked around the city center and warmed up with a coffee and a pasty from Gregg’s; a little deli type place. Our pasty was delicious; imagine a flaky, handheld chicken potpie. It really warmed us up after spending all day outside in the frigid English wind.
Our last landmark was Ye Olde Trip to Jerusalem. This is the oldest pub in the world. Built in 1189, King Richard stopped here to recruit men to fight in the crusades. This was probably the last taste of home many crusaders had before they were slaughtered in the desert. Outside it looks like a quaint English house, but on the inside you see how the pub has been carved into the living rock that Nottingham Castle rests on. Its still rather nice, despite the fact you’re drinking in a cave. I drank the beer they actually make, also called Ye Olde Trip, and it was really good. Bitter but not overpowering. We watched some locals try to swing a ring onto a bull’s horn, an ancient pub game.
Then we went bowling with the family and all their friends. Bowling is completely different when you do it with a bunch of drunken Englishmen. Thankfully, they used the gutter guards and I got my score out of the 80’s.
We had dinner at a really nice restaurant in downtown Nottingham called Punchinello’s. This was a swanky kind of place, but with a friendly and casual atmosphere. Lots of good food, good drink, and good friends.
By the way, our wonderful hosts paid for everything. These folks have really rolled out the red carpet for us, and I am thankful beyond words.
We took the bus home from the restaurant, and it stopped right in front of Ramsay’s house. Where I’m from in America, you only find buses running through the business district or poorer parts of town where people can’t afford cars. I’ve never seen a bus in such a nice neighborhood, and with such a class of people on it. In Manchester I ride the bus with homeless people and folks that always look angry for some reason, but here I’m riding with jewelry clad women and dignified looking men carrying bottles of champagne.
Well after all that, I’m absolutely knackered. Goodnite!
January 29th
Today we awoke to discover the grease and fat of the delicious English breakfast had been replaced with the fruit, cheese, and baguettes of a French styled one. All the food in this house is delicious. Our cooking is good too, but I don’t want to leave this wonderful hearth of palatability!!! (Thank you thesaurus for that one)
Liam must think I’m really athletic or something because he gathered up all his tennis balls, his baseball bat and glove, and his American football for our trip to Sherwood Forest today. Hope I didn’t disappoint him too much.
Only a half hours drive through the rolling hills of England, Sherwood Forest was the alleged home of Robin Hood and his men in tights. The even have a massive 1,000-year-old oak tree that is believed to have held his tree fort hide away. Although 80% of the place has been lost to industrialization, the forest is still massive.
We even got to practice some archery, and that was pretty cool. A very Nottingham kind of thing to do I guess. I am pretty crap at archery, I hate to admit. My ancestors must’ve been farmers, because we all would have starved to death with my aiming skills. I just managed to hit the still target; imagine what hunting moving game would’ve been like!
That night we had an awesome roast Sunday dinner, which is another kind of tradition. We were treated to yet another “false pudding”. Yorkshire pudding is really just a crunchy bread bowl, stuffed with whatever you want at the moment from your current meal. Very tasty, but still not pudding.
After another sleepy 2-hour drive, we arrived at our dorm. Megan and I must’ve been nice guests because in the trunk we found a surprise box packed with leftovers, 8 pints of Guinness, 3 bottles of wine, and Ramsay’s own special addition a bottle of absinthe from Portugal. This absinthe is 57% alcohol, or 114 proof, and like all absinthes, is illegal in the states. I am going to have to find lots of folks to share this stuff with.
Well I can’t say enough good things about Ramsay and his family. They are some of the kindest, most generous people I’ve ever met, and despite being 3,000 miles from my family I truly felt at home. They are excellent ambassadors to their country, and I hope someday to return the favor.
January 30th
Well its back to the daily grind for me. Realized in Art today that I should’ve read a novel for today’s lecture, but no I did not. Not that I forgot, but everything else in this class we’ve gone over were handouts delivered in class, and I thought today was going to be the same. No, it was not.
I was close to skipping the seminar because I thought all we would be doing was talking about the book, I’d be totally lost, and the lecturer would be mad at me. I decided to go anyway, thinking if he wanted to be mad at me fine, at least I would show up and make an effort. Good thing I did too; we hardly talked specifically about the book, and only 4 people out of 20ish people had copies. Even the people with copies had only just started the book, and the professor was totally cool with that. Sweet! He was actually really happy to see me, because the book was set in America and he had lots of questions to ask us Yanks. In fact, the three American exchange students were the only ones participating. The class would be a lot more interesting if people would actually discuss what is going on.
Had an egg barm for lunch from the potato stand. I didn’t know what a barm was, but the egg part sounded nice, and it was the cheapest thing on the menu. Its basically a fried egg sandwich, in a giant, fluffy, buttered roll. These things are great; cheap and nutritious. Now I won’t have to stress about buying lunch.
January 31st
I’ve spent today catching up on the study portion of this study abroad trip. I’ve read a play, completed the work for it, took some notes, fixed yesterday’s sloppy notes, read another play we’re discussing Friday, took the notes on it, studied for a plants and medicine test next week, drawn two graphs, and started two novels that we’re discussing next week in Art. Soon I’ll have to find a copy of the book I was supposed to read last week. My brain hurts.
With class just being just once a week and no quizzes or tests to study for, I tend to neglect my assignments and studying more than with it being spread out 2-3 times a week. Not that I don’t get them done; just now they’re all clumped together on my free days instead of nicely spread throughout the week.
You know it’s a boring day when grocery shopping is the most exciting thing. With Megan in class I went by myself and actually enjoyed the solo trip. I got to walk instead of taking the bus, found everything about 30 minutes faster, saved some money, and didn’t have to hear about how heavy all the groceries were (trust me I know how heavy they are). Megan also has this thing about not leaving the cart alone (AH! No one is going to steal your groceries, we’re in a friggin’ grocery store, they can just go down the aisle!), and some crazy rule about whoever drives the cart can’t look at the list at the same time. WHAT!? Is this too complex or something? Is she just walking down the store, face buried in her list, mumbling, “Porridge, porridge, gotta get the porridge” over and over? You can keep something in your head, whilst looking about for it right? Everyone has their own system that they don’t want messed with I guess.
Got e-mail about a beach cleaning volunteer trip. It’s a pretty sweet deal: free transportation, free lunch and drinks, meet new people, do something good for the Earth, and see some of the country. I’m thinking about heading out on that, and hopefully I’ll get more info soon.
Tried some of that wine we got from Ramsay’s fam. Its really nice, but kind of strong. I feel like a little siesta, except that its only 7:30pm! However, in my tipsy state I did win 6 games of solitaire in a row. Will have to try this little experiment again.
Making plans with Marcus to go see a Man. City match next Sunday. My first soccer game, exciting.
February 1st
I really enjoy my physiology lectures, probably because I feel more at home there. These health science majors are my people. We study too much, watch the Discovery Channel, and find interest in the structure and function of hemoglobin. Nerds, my brethren. Whereas in the drama and art classes everyone is very artsy, creative, and basically everything I’m not. Sitting between Angsty, Too Many Piercings, Emo Guy and Ms. Hiking Boots with Orange Fishnets Combo, I definitely feel a little out of place. Also, the whole group has been taking classes since they were in uni while I’m just the guy with a funny accent who doesn’t know anything about the “dramatic effects of romanticism on an audience”. They are very nice people, and its good to diversify your life and learn from others, but I still feel like the odd man out.
Anyway, my poor physiology lecturer was just begging for some student participation today, and if I probably would have felt bad for her if I wasn’t so sleepy. I think she is a new teacher and is very concerned with lecturing so we understand; she does things professors are supposed to do like slow down for questions, get students to participate, and relates complex ideas to real life. I give her about a month before she becomes jaded with the apathetic students and just quickly breezes through her notes like most everyone else.
Thought it smelled like snow today so I took a big whiff and discovered it was just diesel bus fumes and cigarette smoke. Whoops.
The potato man shouted at me today. I was a little scared because the potato man is this big, burly, Englishman who looks like he could just knock your head off just by looking at you. Imagine Tony Soprano, only English, working a potato stand. You’d be kinda scared of him too. Anyways, it was a friendly shout, because he smiled and gave a little wink after whatever he bellowed. Between his accent and my shock that the fearsome Mr. Potato was hollering at me I have no idea what he said. Maybe its because I was staring at the menu dumbfounded, “Cottage cheese on a potato??? These Brits have thought of everything, what a good idea!” and he thought I was retarded. Maybe its because I was wearing my Man. City scarf; the “team of the people” as they’re known. Perhaps he now thinks me a fellow “man of the people”, and we’re brothers of the proletariat class. Perhaps I’ll get free potatoes now in our struggle together against “The Man”. Perhaps I’ve just been doing too much Marxism in my classes, and am rather hungry.
I love this place.
January 25th
Now that I have a lab, my Wednesdays last from 9am to 7:30 at night. That’s not counting waking up, eating, and bus time. I miss not having class and just wandering aimlessly throughout the city.
Sprung for chips with mozzarella chips melted over them. Oh, the things these people do with fries! And people actually make fun of English food! Almost decided against going to the chippy, (a place that sells fries/chips), but I’m pretty sure this homeless guy was following me. He slowed down, sped up, and crossed the street with me, so it was kinda scary. If I’m going to get mugged, first I’m going to eat my chips, dammit!
My lab was…aggravating. I couldn’t sign on to the computer for some reason, so I ask for help. Big mistake.
“Have you put your password in there?”
(Uhhh, yeah. I do this like 10 times a day. Thank you very much) “Yes”
“And it’s the right one?”
(NOPE, you got me! I thought it was wrong password day! The one and only day of the year where you just put whatever you want in there and it works out hunky dory!) “Yes”
“Well try again.”
These are the people teaching me?! Something isn’t working and I should just keep beating my head against the wall doing the same thing?! Especially when I HAVE been trying for like ten minutes now! Why did I bother in the first place? I just move to another computer, and it works out fine. Stupid British technology
So then, I notice my wallets missing. Why, because Einstein over there wanted me to really REALLY inspect my password so I took it out for a look. Fun stuff. So, I’m patting myself down like cops on a drug search, and basically tearing my little section apart. My money, debit card, student ID, and bus pass are all in there; my life basically. If that goes, I’m rather screwed. Meanwhile, another lecturer comes in and is getting the class started and explaining everything. Good, good, way to start off right here Greg. The computer guy thinks I’m an idiot, the class thinks I really enjoy patting my ass, and the professor thinks I’m un-prepared. Excellent. Well right now I’m a little too distracted to care what they think, or what he has to say. I find it under a keyboard, thank God.
So now that I’m completely lost, I ask for help again. I get the professor and his little teaching assistant. I should’ve learned the first time.
“Sorry about missing that, but can you just tell me where to click to get started?”
“What!?”
(What am I doing? Speaking Chinese here?) “How do I get started? I can figure the rest out myself.”
Remember those professors I said were so nice and helpful? He isn’t one of them. With this question, the professor rolls his eyes and walks away. This is the guy I asked for help about my presentation before, and he wasn’t so great then either. I notice the Timberland boots he’s wearing never have any mud on them, and he’s probably just trying to seem taller. Perhaps the stick up his ass is meant to add a few inches too.
So his little TA chick gets me started and I’m well on my way. It’s a rather elementary program about neurons actually, something like you’d find in high school. Especially a high school that doesn’t have the money to do real tests on real nerves, so you settle for this virtual simulation piece of crap.
Ms. TA lapdog comes by to check up on us.
TA: So are you managing all right?
BRAIN: Doing a bit more than just managing thank you very much.
MOUTH: Just redoing this part ‘cuz I’m pretty sure I did it wrong the first time”
TA: Well, why’d you do it wrong?
BRAIN: I dunno, maybe if I knew it was wrong, I wouldn’t have done it this way in the first place, you stupid bitch!
MOUTH: I dunno…
TA: Well everyone else has 45 for their values and YOU only have 2!
MOUTH: Like I said, I did it wrong. (That’s a bit better mouth, good job)
TA: Well you shouldn’t have done it wrong!
BRAIN: Do you hate everyone, or is it just me? America maybe? You’ll make a great teacher some day, with your students knowing how wrong they are all the time.
MOUTH: “I know, that’s why I’m DOING…IT… AGAIN.” (All right, good compromise brain and mouth)
I think she can see that I’m getting a bit pissed off, and that she is being a bit of an asshole, but of course she can’t admit that to a student, so she just walks away. Good, I know what I’m doing now and don’t need her anyway. She’ll probably have a stimulating evening of watching Big Brother, and telling her cat that she is purring wrong.
Lesson here: I will not let myself be belittled and spoken to that way again. Even by Dr. Short stuff and his sidekick Captain Constructive Criticism. They can piss off.
January 26th
Woke up very sick and very filled with snot today. This whole week has been kind of crappy. Maybe this is my “week of depression” they said everyone experiences at orientation. This is the week where everything goes wrong, and you want to go home. Well it hasn’t been THAT bad, but it hasn’t exactly been great either.
Went to city center to look for a present for my sister, but had no such luck. She’d go nuts here with all the shopping she could do.
Went to a German grocery store near the Curry Mile (how diverse!) called LIDL. Its too far away to do regular shopping, but the place has really good deals. Too bad I don’t know what most of the stuff is; maybe I should learn some German.
Megan bought me a foot long hotdog at the potato stand today, which was really nice of her. She’s been looking after me since I’ve been sick, and it’s been a big help. Hotdogs here are more like a brat-worst than the hot dogs we’re used to at home. Still delicious though.
Went home and she went to rest for a bit. Aha! My chance has arrived. Megan is kind of bossy in the kitchen, and gets to do all the fun stuff. I usually end up with the jobs like opening cans, or putting the plates out. Sometimes, if I’m really nice, I get to help drain something. I like to cook, and it’s really frustrating because I never get to do anything. (Personally, I think I could do a better job than her, but that’s another conversation).
So, I’m doing great. My pastas boiling, the sauce is heating up, the veggies are chopped. Fantastic. Then, she wakes up, and proceeds to take over. All hell breaks loose. She dumps all the rest of the pasta in, yeah, all of it, enough for four people. The pots not that big either, so we have pasta spilling out everywhere, we aren’t going eat all this, and I hate wasting things so I’m ready to just jump out the window here. Now, I can’t even mix the sauce in, because A) there is too much pasta in the way, and B) Megan will probably do it! I was doing sooooooo good. And she ruined it! Ahhhhhhhhhh! Not only was my job taken away from me; she stole it AND did a bad job cooking it.
It gets better. Then, she drinks all the milk. And there was loads left too. She just drank it! Didn’t ask if I wanted some, didn’t save any, didn’t care, she just drank it. Grrrrrrr! So now I have to make it through breakfast, tea, lunch, and some more tea without milk.
This normally is not a big deal. But I guess this is the depressing week from hell, and everything is just piled on top of everything else, and…it just plain sucks.
January 27th
Oh man. I’m so tired.
Waited in line for ten minutes with the cold wind and rain for the cash machine, only to find out they had no money left. This is still better than getting up there and finding out I have no money left, so I’m taking this as a bonus.
Went to drama today and realized I didn’t read a play I should have for class today. Whoops. Well it wasn’t even on the reading list, so I don’t know how everyone else knew what to do. Good news though, my lecturer lost her voice so I only had one out of three hours of class today!!! That also means I didn’t have to discuss the play I didn’t read. Excellent. Things are looking up for Greg. Will have to be more on the ball next week.
Met up at Ramsay’s flat around three for the drive to Nottingham. His Dad, Mohammed, is originally from Iraq, and has been a doctor here for quite a while. Short and stocky like Ramsay, he is darker and bigger. Some might say he is the human Iraqi version of Fred Flintstone.
We drove on the M6 from Manchester through Birmingham all the way to Nottingham. It was about a 2-hour drive, but that’s with a Friday afternoon traffic. These roundabouts have discouraged me from attempting any kind of driving in the country. (Americans with a normal driver’s license can actually drive here for up to a year before getting a British license.) Passed lots of green fields, and sheep, which always reminds me that I’m England. Not that I forget, but sometimes you just get these moments like “Whoa! Dude, I’m in England. Holy Crap!” Ramsay lives in a little village just outside of Nottingham called Radcliff on Trent.
Met his mother, Rona, who looks just like Ramsay’s sister Najwa. If you squint I guess you can see some Ramsay in there too. His little brother, Liam, is like a little personal pan version of Ramsay. Half the size, but twice the energy. This kid also knows everything there is to know about the Simpson’s.
His mum cooked a wonderful dinner with chicken and veggies in a tomato sauce, served with rice, as well as pita bread, hummus, and cucumber sauce. And an actual salad, not just lettuce and tomatoes like in the dorm, but like with real leafy greens and what not. We had an awesome chocolate cake, with cream poured all over it, for desert. Everything was delicious, and it was so nice to sit in a real dining room and have a family sit-down dinner.
Even if they’re not my family, or even American, it still reminds me of home. Mohammed seems to get Ramsay and Liam confused quite a bit, his Mum is trying to get Liam to stop talking and eat his food, and Ramsay is obviously happy to be back home and get some great food and his washing done. A homecoming is pretty much the same everywhere I guess. Watching The Simpsons was a nice touch of home too.
January 28th
I woke up today with the sun shining over another one of those green pastures out my window. His family probably thought it was a bit weird to be taking pictures of the empty field in their backyard, but its very scenic.
Ramsay’s mum and dad made us one of those traditional English breakfasts I’d been hankering for. I was not to be disappointed. Fried eggs (some covered in cheese, what a good idea!), sausage, bacon, black pudding, baked beans, and diced tomatoes. Mmmmmmmmm. Breakfast won’t ever be the same again. The bacon here is not nearly as fatty, so you actually get some meat to eat instead of just gristle. I think the idea here is to put a fried egg on toast, then put a little but of everything else on it too and have like an open-faced breakfast sandwich. It’s well nice. Beans and tomatoes are a nice (and healthy) addition to any meal.
The term pudding is used a little loosely in this country. I have yet to see any Bill Cosby, “there’s always room for J-E-LL-O” kind of pudding, but there are random things that seem to constitute pudding here in the UK. Black pudding is oats, some wheat; pig parts (which ones? Who knows, who cares?), and the black part? That’s pig’s blood. I didn’t know that when I ate it, but it won’t deter me now. The stuff is actually quite nice. It supposedly tastes like haggis, but I compare it to a sausage without any of the spices.
We rode through the village on the way to Nottingham castle, which is exactly what you’d imagine when you think “typical English village”. Passed over the River Trent for an excellent view of the countryside, and then boom, we’re standing on Maid Marian Way in front of a giant castle. Learned a lot about England and Robin Hood. Ok, so I learned A LOT about Robin Hood. My God. There sure is a lot of stuff for a dude they’re not even sure is real or not!
The tour of the castle was excellent. The view at the top overlooking all of Nottingham is just amazing. There is the little village to your right, and the more developed city parts to your left; there are mountains off in the distance. Everything is covered by a thin fog, and when its reflected off the sunlight, everything is tinged in light blue.
Then we went to Tales of Robin Hood. Its kind of an interactive museum all about Nottingham’s favorite son. We squeezed into this ancient cart thing and they rode us around the place, while wooden characters popped out and lectured you on Robin and his merry men. Although the place is mostly for the younger set, it was cool and we had some laughs.
Then we walked around the city center and warmed up with a coffee and a pasty from Gregg’s; a little deli type place. Our pasty was delicious; imagine a flaky, handheld chicken potpie. It really warmed us up after spending all day outside in the frigid English wind.
Our last landmark was Ye Olde Trip to Jerusalem. This is the oldest pub in the world. Built in 1189, King Richard stopped here to recruit men to fight in the crusades. This was probably the last taste of home many crusaders had before they were slaughtered in the desert. Outside it looks like a quaint English house, but on the inside you see how the pub has been carved into the living rock that Nottingham Castle rests on. Its still rather nice, despite the fact you’re drinking in a cave. I drank the beer they actually make, also called Ye Olde Trip, and it was really good. Bitter but not overpowering. We watched some locals try to swing a ring onto a bull’s horn, an ancient pub game.
Then we went bowling with the family and all their friends. Bowling is completely different when you do it with a bunch of drunken Englishmen. Thankfully, they used the gutter guards and I got my score out of the 80’s.
We had dinner at a really nice restaurant in downtown Nottingham called Punchinello’s. This was a swanky kind of place, but with a friendly and casual atmosphere. Lots of good food, good drink, and good friends.
By the way, our wonderful hosts paid for everything. These folks have really rolled out the red carpet for us, and I am thankful beyond words.
We took the bus home from the restaurant, and it stopped right in front of Ramsay’s house. Where I’m from in America, you only find buses running through the business district or poorer parts of town where people can’t afford cars. I’ve never seen a bus in such a nice neighborhood, and with such a class of people on it. In Manchester I ride the bus with homeless people and folks that always look angry for some reason, but here I’m riding with jewelry clad women and dignified looking men carrying bottles of champagne.
Well after all that, I’m absolutely knackered. Goodnite!
January 29th
Today we awoke to discover the grease and fat of the delicious English breakfast had been replaced with the fruit, cheese, and baguettes of a French styled one. All the food in this house is delicious. Our cooking is good too, but I don’t want to leave this wonderful hearth of palatability!!! (Thank you thesaurus for that one)
Liam must think I’m really athletic or something because he gathered up all his tennis balls, his baseball bat and glove, and his American football for our trip to Sherwood Forest today. Hope I didn’t disappoint him too much.
Only a half hours drive through the rolling hills of England, Sherwood Forest was the alleged home of Robin Hood and his men in tights. The even have a massive 1,000-year-old oak tree that is believed to have held his tree fort hide away. Although 80% of the place has been lost to industrialization, the forest is still massive.
We even got to practice some archery, and that was pretty cool. A very Nottingham kind of thing to do I guess. I am pretty crap at archery, I hate to admit. My ancestors must’ve been farmers, because we all would have starved to death with my aiming skills. I just managed to hit the still target; imagine what hunting moving game would’ve been like!
That night we had an awesome roast Sunday dinner, which is another kind of tradition. We were treated to yet another “false pudding”. Yorkshire pudding is really just a crunchy bread bowl, stuffed with whatever you want at the moment from your current meal. Very tasty, but still not pudding.
After another sleepy 2-hour drive, we arrived at our dorm. Megan and I must’ve been nice guests because in the trunk we found a surprise box packed with leftovers, 8 pints of Guinness, 3 bottles of wine, and Ramsay’s own special addition a bottle of absinthe from Portugal. This absinthe is 57% alcohol, or 114 proof, and like all absinthes, is illegal in the states. I am going to have to find lots of folks to share this stuff with.
Well I can’t say enough good things about Ramsay and his family. They are some of the kindest, most generous people I’ve ever met, and despite being 3,000 miles from my family I truly felt at home. They are excellent ambassadors to their country, and I hope someday to return the favor.
January 30th
Well its back to the daily grind for me. Realized in Art today that I should’ve read a novel for today’s lecture, but no I did not. Not that I forgot, but everything else in this class we’ve gone over were handouts delivered in class, and I thought today was going to be the same. No, it was not.
I was close to skipping the seminar because I thought all we would be doing was talking about the book, I’d be totally lost, and the lecturer would be mad at me. I decided to go anyway, thinking if he wanted to be mad at me fine, at least I would show up and make an effort. Good thing I did too; we hardly talked specifically about the book, and only 4 people out of 20ish people had copies. Even the people with copies had only just started the book, and the professor was totally cool with that. Sweet! He was actually really happy to see me, because the book was set in America and he had lots of questions to ask us Yanks. In fact, the three American exchange students were the only ones participating. The class would be a lot more interesting if people would actually discuss what is going on.
Had an egg barm for lunch from the potato stand. I didn’t know what a barm was, but the egg part sounded nice, and it was the cheapest thing on the menu. Its basically a fried egg sandwich, in a giant, fluffy, buttered roll. These things are great; cheap and nutritious. Now I won’t have to stress about buying lunch.
January 31st
I’ve spent today catching up on the study portion of this study abroad trip. I’ve read a play, completed the work for it, took some notes, fixed yesterday’s sloppy notes, read another play we’re discussing Friday, took the notes on it, studied for a plants and medicine test next week, drawn two graphs, and started two novels that we’re discussing next week in Art. Soon I’ll have to find a copy of the book I was supposed to read last week. My brain hurts.
With class just being just once a week and no quizzes or tests to study for, I tend to neglect my assignments and studying more than with it being spread out 2-3 times a week. Not that I don’t get them done; just now they’re all clumped together on my free days instead of nicely spread throughout the week.
You know it’s a boring day when grocery shopping is the most exciting thing. With Megan in class I went by myself and actually enjoyed the solo trip. I got to walk instead of taking the bus, found everything about 30 minutes faster, saved some money, and didn’t have to hear about how heavy all the groceries were (trust me I know how heavy they are). Megan also has this thing about not leaving the cart alone (AH! No one is going to steal your groceries, we’re in a friggin’ grocery store, they can just go down the aisle!), and some crazy rule about whoever drives the cart can’t look at the list at the same time. WHAT!? Is this too complex or something? Is she just walking down the store, face buried in her list, mumbling, “Porridge, porridge, gotta get the porridge” over and over? You can keep something in your head, whilst looking about for it right? Everyone has their own system that they don’t want messed with I guess.
Got e-mail about a beach cleaning volunteer trip. It’s a pretty sweet deal: free transportation, free lunch and drinks, meet new people, do something good for the Earth, and see some of the country. I’m thinking about heading out on that, and hopefully I’ll get more info soon.
Tried some of that wine we got from Ramsay’s fam. Its really nice, but kind of strong. I feel like a little siesta, except that its only 7:30pm! However, in my tipsy state I did win 6 games of solitaire in a row. Will have to try this little experiment again.
Making plans with Marcus to go see a Man. City match next Sunday. My first soccer game, exciting.
February 1st
I really enjoy my physiology lectures, probably because I feel more at home there. These health science majors are my people. We study too much, watch the Discovery Channel, and find interest in the structure and function of hemoglobin. Nerds, my brethren. Whereas in the drama and art classes everyone is very artsy, creative, and basically everything I’m not. Sitting between Angsty, Too Many Piercings, Emo Guy and Ms. Hiking Boots with Orange Fishnets Combo, I definitely feel a little out of place. Also, the whole group has been taking classes since they were in uni while I’m just the guy with a funny accent who doesn’t know anything about the “dramatic effects of romanticism on an audience”. They are very nice people, and its good to diversify your life and learn from others, but I still feel like the odd man out.
Anyway, my poor physiology lecturer was just begging for some student participation today, and if I probably would have felt bad for her if I wasn’t so sleepy. I think she is a new teacher and is very concerned with lecturing so we understand; she does things professors are supposed to do like slow down for questions, get students to participate, and relates complex ideas to real life. I give her about a month before she becomes jaded with the apathetic students and just quickly breezes through her notes like most everyone else.
Thought it smelled like snow today so I took a big whiff and discovered it was just diesel bus fumes and cigarette smoke. Whoops.
The potato man shouted at me today. I was a little scared because the potato man is this big, burly, Englishman who looks like he could just knock your head off just by looking at you. Imagine Tony Soprano, only English, working a potato stand. You’d be kinda scared of him too. Anyways, it was a friendly shout, because he smiled and gave a little wink after whatever he bellowed. Between his accent and my shock that the fearsome Mr. Potato was hollering at me I have no idea what he said. Maybe its because I was staring at the menu dumbfounded, “Cottage cheese on a potato??? These Brits have thought of everything, what a good idea!” and he thought I was retarded. Maybe its because I was wearing my Man. City scarf; the “team of the people” as they’re known. Perhaps he now thinks me a fellow “man of the people”, and we’re brothers of the proletariat class. Perhaps I’ll get free potatoes now in our struggle together against “The Man”. Perhaps I’ve just been doing too much Marxism in my classes, and am rather hungry.
I love this place.