mid-september, 2

so I should be asleep, but I noticed right before clicking the laptop shut that UC EAP United Kingdom's facebook page had posted a photo album of the orientation for the students going to the University of Manchester. I decided I had to look through these and then, of course, I was wide awake again.

I forget the progression, but then I was back on Megan's page looking through her pictures and being generally jealous that she's there already; for whatever reason I ended up on google maps, searching for the High Holborn Residence so that I'd know what to expect when I was there.

The tube station I'll exit from is very close to the H.H.Residence, and the walk should take me probably ten minutes with luggage and a crowd pressing in on me. Check-in to EAP orientation isn't until 15:00 on Monday, and I'm arriving at Heathrow at 11:15. After I get out of customs, it'll probably be noonish (I have no experience and could be totally off on this estimate, but I'm trying to overestimate as opposed to the opposite), and then I have an hour's tube ride to Holborn. Plus the wait time in lines to buy a single-fare ticket. So I figure it will probably be around 13:15 or 13:30--trying to get into the habit of the 24-hour display, I apologize to American readers--before I get to the H.H.R., but even then I'm still an hour and a half early.

So what will I do? I've researched my options several times. I'll be allowed to check my luggage in to a locker room, but I can't go to a room to rest/clean up until I've checked in at 15:00, and I've also heard it's good for jet lag to be outside as much as possible and drink as much water as I can. These two things in mind, I've had the general idea that I will probably go visit a cafe and drink as much h-two-oh as I can in those minutes. (It's possible things will play out differently, since I've recently gotten in contact with the other UCI student attending UEA and therefore the same orientation as me. She's arriving in London on Sunday, though, so I might meet up with her? I'm not sure, but there are possibilities open to me.)

The reason I'm writing is because while I was on google maps I was exploring High Holborn and +Drury Lane--YES, IT EXISTS, I'M GOING TO FIND THE MUFFIN MAN--which is right off High Holborn and behind the H.H.R., (I feel like I'm writing the U.S.S.R. when I do that for little apparent reason besides the repetition and the 'R' but it's currently 2:30 {am}, so there you are). I decide to use the nifty little "search nearby" option and type in "cafe" as I haven't had much luck locating anything with food and drink besides Domino's. And several options pop up--this is London, after all--but the first one on the list and quite near to Drury Lane is Poetry Cafe.

I immediately choose this one--what English major wouldn't? what writer wouldn't?--without looking through the other options and look up directions. It looks like a three minute walk from the H.H.R., and google provides me with a +website link, so I decide to check it out.

I see a lot of things on the page, but what's the first thing? That it's vegetarian cuisine on the menu. And next? Poetry readings every night.

It almost makes me wish I was staying in London for longer; and it definitely makes me feel just that much more excited and hopeful. This is real, and now. It is in my life, and it is right.

mid-september

4 days till liftoff.

Many of my friends have already landed in London: Megan, then Angela, and I was talking to Kelsey last night on Facebook at 2 AM, two hours after which she was heading off with her mom to the airport. Next Monday, around 3 AM pacific standard time, I'll have landed at Heathrow myself after a 10.5 hour plane ride. Although, Angela did mention that hers was only 9 hours, and she also flew Air New Zealand. So we'll just see, I guess. Won't we? (Already going British~)

Yesterday my mom made a recipe book / folder for me containing vegetarian staples such as pancakes and veggie pot pie. Dad was unconvinced that I'd be cooking at all, since I don't at home, but at home there are also people supplying the breadbox with a pretty constant stream of bakery goods, and abroad I'll have to fill in that role myself, plus there's the added pressure of not wanting to get fat(ter) in the presence of a lot of British kids. Eheheheh.

Things I did yesterday:

• "finished" packing my suitcase, but I do still have to shove in a few wall decorations and moar socks etc.
• finished packing my carryon backpack, although it's likely I'll remove one of the outfits and put it in the suitcase so there's weight allowance for my laptop charger, which only weighs 100 pounds.
• broke open the little cheap lock that came with this suitcase, which I'd dumbly locked onto one of the zippers last time I used it. Of course I had no idea where the key was, so I pulled out a fettling knife from my box of ceramics/sculpting tools and borrowed a small screwdriver from dad's toolbox/tower/thinger (thinger is a word I learned from Angela and I like it) and then proceeded to pry it open from the seams. My first step actually was to try to trick the lock into accepting a hair pin as a key, but what happened wasn't that and actually when I pulled the hairpin out of the lock it broke in half. It took me a decent amount of time but I managed to break the seam apart and then poke the top of the lock out, and it all fell apart. evidence of my superhuman strength above.
• weighed the luggage. I have a one-bag allowance before I have to pay to check in luggage, and it's really a 50lb one-bag allowance, because I'm sure I could get a lot more than that in a single bag. Megan's, for example, weighed 50.5 lbs, and she had "packed light." OK.
• suitcase: ~37 lbs
• backpack: ~13 lbs
• worked on a story, cleaned out my wallet, cleaned out my purse, and added all makeup items to my liquids bag in my backpack.

Today I found out my attempts to set up a bank-to-international card transfer online failed, so tomorrow I have to go to the nameless bank (oh joy! oh rapture!) to get them to set up ACH transferring. I will ignore nameless banker with all the determination of a bullheaded...Lily. Friday, I'm going to have lunch with a coworker from the Library and probably turn in my key, since I won't go back to work until January. I'm also looking forward to a break, hoping that I'm more pleasant when I return.

If you follow my other blog, after I post this I'm going to post a "summer in pictures" summary of what I've done for the past few months, since my last post there was on the last day of school in June. Oops. I also should finish my post about my dad's shenanigans to post there for all your reading pleasure.

For now, I'll leave you with this video of the song that has always been a background track to my love for England and the UK. 

hell is empty

and all the devils are on the I-5 -- said Shakespeare.

It's the one thing I've been able to say from the beginning that I will absolutely not miss from home while I'm abroad: the commute to school. Today it was a commute to the most boring hour and a half of my recent life story. Traffic is always unpredictable and usually when I leave by 7:00, I'm ahead of the bulk of it, and I did leave the house at that time, but I did stop to get gas along the way and I ended up boarding the freeway at 7:18. From the Avery onramp to Jefferson/University on the 405, I only got up to speed (~65 is pretty good for my car after traffic) once, and whilst in traffic the speediest I managed was around 40 mph. The car was roaring like it meant it, though. Speed is just a number.

The moral of this story: if you ever notice me getting nostalgic or misty-eyed remembering the good times I had in the grey-and-yellow mornings before school in the car....someone...someone send me internet slaps. Because Shakespeare's right.

More pertinently, I managed to finagle Quicken into displaying my correct account balances. All three, which is impressive for someone of my caliber. And, to top it all off, the error was 100% user-caused. Derp.

Also pertinently, I managed to get luggage tags and a startrek water bottle and a huuuuuuge water-proof backpack to use as my carryon instead of the overnight bag I have that is well, real luggage, because after hearing about the nightmare escalators etc at the airport, I'm not enthusiastic about my prospects when I consider lugging a 50lb rolling suitcase, an over-night handbag and my laptop. Oh, cool thing about the backpack is that it has a laptop sleeve in it and a million pockets, which I will fill with miscellania. Also I hope to use it as my travel bag when I manage to hop a train to Scotland or Wales.

Even more pertinently, I've added a page to the blog displaying where my friends who are abroad in the UK are, and if I can get their permission(s), I'll try to find a picture of them each abroad to add sparkle. I'll get permission first (edit: have permission, link on "mah frans" page), but my friend Megan is keeping a travel blog as well and she's 100x more eloquent and good at life than I am, so her blog is much nicer and much more emotional to read. I'm sure you're all potatoes after you read my posts.

early september, 3

earlier today in US Pacific Time one of my English-major friends landed with her mom and step-dad in London. We had talked so much beforehand and are probably equal-status Anglophiles, and seeing her there has made the idea of my own adventure seem terrifyingly real.

the last few nights I've climbed into bed before my regular 3 AM curfew and have been entirely unable to sleep. I think of all the things I have to do before I leave, I think of passing out on the plane, I think of falling asleep and having to be woken up when the plane lands, I think of getting lost, I think of getting turned away by customs. I think about who will pet the cat when I am not home. I think about having tissues on hand at every moment because I'm unsure how my allergies will collide with cold(er) weather. I imagine myself against backdrops. I worry, fear inflating my chest, peeling my eyes open. And then I leap out of bed and sit at the computer, I look up the weather in London, I make sure Norwich and Edinburgh still exist, I write two lines of a short story, I re-read journal entries from last february, I turn off the fan and turn it back on, I trip over the cat, I check twitter, I knit a few stitches, and somehow in the morning wake up two hours after the time I'd set my alarm for.

by this time exactly a week from now, I will have been on the plane for just over two hours. When I imagine myself on the plane I am either 1) crying or 2) sleeping while they bring around the food. I've yet to imagine myself hopping over passengers to get to the bathroom but I'm sure it's only a matter of time.

I have yet to finish packing; to get my room clean enough to sit still for three months; to make five copies of every piece of paper I'm taking abroad; to feel any of this is real for more than a glimmering, stomach-hammering moment.

tomorrow I'll attend an hour-and-a-half session on ergonomics for work. It's required once in three years and I can't help feeling slightly irked at how unfortunate the timing is. I don't earn enough per hour to pay off how much it may take in gas to drive over, and beyond this, it starts at 9 AM, so I have to leave unspeakably early to avoid traffic. Have I mentioned that 3 AM is my usual bedtime?

but when it's done, I'll pick up luggage tags and pester Mom to help me find the box with all my towels and tupperware in our backyard storage shed.

Dad has helped me figure out what to do about a phone/international card in the last few days, as well, so I'm feeling slightly more prepared in material ways to set off.

early september, 2

So today, I went to a branch of nameless bank in another city because they have a "foreign teller" who keeps pounds on hand. The exchange rate today was a pound to 1.666 dollars, so not the best I could have hoped for, but the point is, I now have quite a few different types of British notes to tote around. Because I am modest, I will not post a picture of my specific notes, but here is what they look like, generally (or always...):

The pictures don't make it clear, but the notes vary by size, according to value, so the larger the value, the wider and longer the note. I don't know if you can tell but the lines running down the left-hand side of the notes are iridescent, too. I had to fold the fifty in half "hotdog style" to fit it into the drive-thru envelope the teller gave me for the cash because it's so large. 

BTW: this is not an advertisement to burglars, o k.

I went to the local Marshalls to look for luggage tags but they didn't have them, at least where I could find them. However, they had 234847598439547543 pairs of women's shoes and 34985793475934 women browsing those aisles, so I wasn't sad to leave. I've seen luggage tags at Target, so I might just go back there...my favorite place! 

And then I went to the store to buy ice-cream because summer.

You might be wondering why I decided to have cash on me, besides the novelty of actually touching things that have actually come from Britain. I have a two-fold, partially-straightforward answer. 

1) I have to pay for my student visa at customs when I get into London and for whatever reason it seems less overwhelming to consider paying cash.

2) I've been told it's a good idea to have a bit of cash on me for smaller transactions, and because it's easier to track how much U.S. dollars you spend that way.

So that's my post for today, thanks for reading.

early september

Well, it's been a few days since I last updated and that's mostly because I haven't done much in the last couple days related directly to my leaving, but I've got some news today, so.

A few days ago I received an email from UEA asking me to fill out online registration, which is the first half of the registration process. There are meetings once I'm there that will complete it. It was just regular, boring informational stuff so I won't go into detail about it. I did have a little trouble uploading the picture for my campus card because the last step told me to read something that wasn't there and then click a button that wasn't there...so I emailed the technical team and we'll see what happens, I guess.

The reason I'm writing is because I've found out what classes I'm taking! I sent in a module enrollment form which had the classes I was interested in and then a second and third choice for each. My first choices, of course, were the creative writing classes for poetry and fiction, and then a third-year module for children's literature, but I was warned several times that classes fill up quickly in creative writing and it's more than possible I'd be placed in my second- or third-choice modules.

I didn't know we'd even know what modules we were enrolled in until we got there and talked to a counselor because I'd read something like that on the website, but when I finished registration I saw a tab called "student" up in the corner and clicked on it, and it took me to a page that contained some information about my student information. There was a link at the bottom that said it was my timetable; without much thought of classes at all, and more thought of registration and orientation information, I clicked through, and found neither registration nor orientation information, but rather my module timetable.

I immediately noticed that I only have class on Wednesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays. As I wish to travel on the weekends, this was highly welcome information. All the class information is in a sort of code that I can't read, though, so at first glance I couldn't tell what classes I'd been assigned.

I brought up the course catalogue and found that I've been placed in "Eighteenth-Century Writing," "Modernism," and "Creative Writing: Prose Fiction."

I'm slightly exasperated that it seems to me that I'm rather bent on doing poetry in an academic setting and most of the feedback I am receiving is working against that. However, I'm thrilled to have made it into the fiction course, as that will complete my emphasis in creative writing in fiction once I get back to UCI, and then I'll just have two classes left for poetry. That and, the main reason I chose to attend UEA without much thought about other options is because of their creative writing program, which is highly successful and well-regarded.

Taken directly from the Course Catalogue for the school of Literature, Drama and Creative writing:


2012/3 - LDCE2Y11 EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY WRITING

This module reads major British fiction and some poetry of the eighteenth century in terms of its relation to the development of society which is recognisably modern. We will examine such writers as Defoe, Swift, Pope, Richardson, Fielding and Sterne, and exploring the ‘rise of the novel’, the coming dominance of prose representation in journalism and fiction, the rise of the middle class, the move to an urban cash- nexus society governed by reason and contractual economic exchange, and the construction of new kinds of subjectivities for men and women according to the needs of middle-class patriarchy. In many ways, this module studies the development of the ‘modern mind’.

&


2012/3 - LDCE2Z15 MODERNISM

The purpose of this module is to study the literature of the early decades of the twentieth century - very roughly 1900-1930 - in particular the work of those authors who attempted to break with received norms of literary style and content. The module is organised as a series of thematic explorations - poetic experiment, memory and desire, myth and innovation, and so on - and thus does not follow a chronological structure. The sequence of guiding lectures focuses its deliberations on a set of specific texts, with their contexts, and these are taken up for discussion in the accompanying seminars. 'Modernism' is this constructed gradually over the semester as a mosaic of closely related issues, each one reflecting on the others. As well as providing an overview of defining textual features, in prose and poetry, the module is concerned also with the interrelation of text and context, offering a range of ways of conceiving of modernist literature as both of, and self-consciously ahead of, its historical moment.



I'm least excited for Eighteenth-Century Writing, though I'm sure that I'll enjoy it once I'm actually in the class. I've read all the aforementioned writers save Sterne, and I even really enjoy Defoe, so at the least, there's that. As for Modernism--it sounds a lot like we'll be studying some history as well, which sounds interesting but I hope it's more interesting than the course description. (i.e. that is only possible if we study Virginia Woolf. Have I told you, I'm naming a daughter Adeline?)

I have an appointment with STA travel tomorrow to book a return ticket and I have to go by financial aid and call the bank and then research on the international student ID card to see if I can use it for transactions abroad instead of the account I just set up with nameless banker at nameless bank. Feeling slightly--er--stressed, but I have time to pull last-minute things together before I leave.

ahem

I thought you might be interested that I've purchased medicine so I won't explode or die abroad.

late august, 3

today I went to the bank (which shall remain nameless) to see a banker (who shall remain nameless) to talk to them about setting up an account for my abroad things. Forgive the quality of that sentence, but it's 90 degrees outside.

and I understand that I'm slightly--er--touchy--on the subject of being treated as an independent, intelligent young person, but I suppose it's because that feels like a right to me. I understand, too, that I do look a great deal younger than I am and perhaps to some more innocent, more able to be led into certain things, more clueless. And in a lot of ways that's true. But I don't suppose it's anyone else's business, either, that it is.

mostly, I say this only because while the nameless banker was informative and he answered the questions I had and setting up an account wasn't a problem, there's a certain--I suppose--code of conduct that I expect from a banker who is clearly much older than me and wearing a suit (ahem) and across from a desk from me in a professional situation. I expect someone out there is thinking loosen up! And perhaps I should. But this isn't a post about that, so.

it was just little things: he was friendly, conversational. I'm consistently being told by friendly and conversational people that I never "look" how I should for a certain situation, and this time, I didn't "look" excited about my trip. I will take a moment to point out a couple of reasons why this is a preposterous statement: 1) I'm at a bank encountering an entirely new situation by myself, quite aware that I appear to be twelve years old and unwilling to allow you to use that to your advantage; 2) I'm at a bank, why should I look excited about anything?; 3) it's none of your business; 4) how would you know what I look like when I'm looking forward to something?; 5) this is a specific moment in time. I cannot feel the only emotion you'd expect to see on my face at every moment until I arrive in the UK.

after a moment of thought I decided it was best to be polite and made an excuse for myself, that I was nervous about going abroad for the first time. And that's true. But the story gets better, because he was talking about how it was good that at least in England they don't speak a foreign language, so I'll understand everyone. While this is not 100 percent true, I nodded anyway, because that is one of the factors that I considered when I decided to apply to UK schools rather than ones in Spain. I made the mistake of relaying that information to this nameless banker and he asked me why I'd chosen Spain first, and I said because I can speak Spanish and had been interested in the culture because of Spanish class; and, this is all true, before I could finish this sentence he interrupts me and says "it's because you like Spanish boys, isn't it?" and I was nearly stunned out of speech because, as a private person, I'm not wont to give that kind of information out to strangers and because we are at a bank and I am here on business.

and I will admit that I might have taken care to squint at him an extra moment before replying. I said something like "I hadn't taken that into consideration," but it doesn't matter what I said, because it wasn't a real question.

anyway. The rest of the appointment passed while he talked gregariously and got business done between sentences and I sat and extracted all the information from him that I could. I was pleased to have the opportunity to confirm to him that his writing was "chicken-scratch" after he made a comment about it himself. Small pleasures.

the point of this is mainly to tell you that I've gotten an account set up and now know where to go to get my hands on British Pounds before I fly. I'd also like to add that had I had a similar encounter in a non-professional setting, I probably wouldn't have been overly pleased, but I shouldn't either have been affronted. Sometimes I think that I'm probably too sensitive about this, but it's hard looking eight years younger than your age and trying to be taken seriously. I'm not a down-with-the-man feminist but I do believe that a person is a person first, before anything else, and should be treated as such. I can't imagine nameless banker presuming to ask a twenty-year-old man if he liked Spanish men, and whether or not that was the reason for him choosing Spain as a country in which to study and spend most of his savings.

i.e. proof i am nocturnal

today Mom and I went to Target. I went because I needed last-minute ~things~ for the trip and Mom came because I didn't want to go alone. And I'm unsure why, because most of the time I spend shopping I spend in contemplative, comfortable solitude.

it wasn't anything big: a "dressing gown," travel-sized everything--which includes a foldable toothbrush, by the way; toothbrush!--socks, and tights. I'm pretty concerned about transforming into a popsicle this autumn/winter, so layers are high up on my priorities.

still looking for miscellaneous, such as a case for my makeup.

but the big news is that I've packed! Not everything--I still have probably about a third of the clothes I want to bring to pack, and I haven't packed books yet. I'm restricting myself to three: The Waves (Virginia Woolf), Anna Karenina (Leo Tolstoy), and Betrayed by F. Scott Fitzgerald (Ron Carlson). I'm on my way towards finishing Anna Karenina before I leave, though. In the case this happens I'll probably tote along the Collected Poems of Dylan Thomas.

well really the news is that I did all this packing post-midnight, which is my most productive hour.

so, not news at all. but there.

late august, 2

some information that you might be interested in:

I'm flying out of LAX into London Heathrow on Sunday, September 16th, 16:45. I'll arrive in London on September 17th at 11:15. 

I have an orientation with the EAP UK contacts on September 17th starting at 16:00. We'll check-in to the High Holborn Residence near Convent Gardens a bit earlier than that; though I'm hoping, as it's only a five minute walk from the Holborn stop on the Piccadilly line out of Heathrow T4, that I'll be able to drop off my luggage and sit outside somewhere. I've heard that's good for jet lag, which I'll undoubtedly have, if only that I don't feel it right away. (Here's to hoping that I manage not to get on the wrong train~)

You might be, at this point, wondering what EAP means. It's an acronym for "Education Abroad Program" and it's run by the UC system. They've got partnerships with various schools across the map, or something like that anyway. (Here's their homepage if you're interested in learning more.) I'll probably be referring to EAP regularly, as I'm told I'll need to be in touch daily with an EAP contact. To convince them I'm still alive and not yet a drug addict, probably.

I've been sent several emails that contain the itinerary of my nearly two-whole-day / three-calendar-day stay in London. I'll be writing about them as soon as I can after they've actually happened, but here are some things to look forward to reading about:

day 1: meet other UCEAP students going to the University of East Anglia. We will go into "town," apparently, and then after 8 PM will have free time in the city.

day 2: the schedule says we'll be going about for 12+ hours. I'm not sure I'll be awake for everything, but assuming I'll be able to report on activities, we'll be visiting the Tower of London, Convent Gardens, a batch of "culture-awareness" orientation talks, dinner at a popular restaurant and will end the day in a West End show: Chariots of Fire.

day 3: taxis will collect us at 10:15 and take us to Liverpool Street Station, where we'll take a train to Norwich and arrive at 12:30. There'll be taxis to take us to UEA.

I think the UEA exchange student orientation will start on the 19th as well, but I'm not totally certain.

* * * 

Today I'm planning to go out and get travel-sized liquids to bring with me on the plane. Apparently the largest we're allotted is 100 mL of each liquid, which is conveniently never the size that regular things come in. Similarly makeup like mascara and "lip gloss," according to the airlines website, have to be in the same bag as the shampoo and things.

Amanda's been on long international flights before and told me I need to bring my own blanket and pillow. I'll probably get a neck pillow but I don't know that I want to take up space in my carryon with my snuggie, which is what she suggested I bring along. I want to bring my laptop as my "personal item"--the thing they allow you in the cabin besides carryon luggage--because it's probably the single heaviest thing I'm bringing along and I don't want to take up pounds in my 50 lb allotment for baggage.

I've been told to sleep on the plane, drink a lot of water on it and when I arrive, and stay outside as much as I can after I get to London to avoid jet lag. I've never had it, so I don't understand how serious it is, but I think for the first few days it's possible that adrenaline will string me along. This is completely new for me--flying abroad, and alone!--and while I am not afraid to do new things it's not too often the chance presents itself.

It's funny that I've always felt, whilst encountering something new, that somehow I'll feel different, that somehow I'll be different in a place that feels deep: in my bones, in my chest, at the back of my neck. And I've been talking about this recently with a friend who's felt the same, but it's never that we instantly become someone else; I think we're only always ourselves, carrying the same worries and outlooks and needs; and I think that what's the strangest out of everything is that we're always at the forefront of our own life's line, and we have all the choice possible spread out before us at every moment, and these are large moments, but we each still inhabit the same body, with the same mind, and same heart. When I began college, I magically expected to become social and "cool" and it seems silly to say it now, but of course I didn't! I suppose that much the same thing is occurring this time: I've always expected to feel twenty, to feel prepared. I'm doing the real things, the things outside of the body, to make this happen, and it still feels entirely up in the air. The way that big things are a dream forever until they happen.

I know myself in these ways: I have never been a preparer, I've always been a rather passive person, I have always had large, explosive dreams. And I think I'm at the point now in which it's advisable to move, and keep moving. I think things will start to fall into place.

late august

It is now edging into September. I've decided it's high time to live up to the promise and establish a blog through which I hope those of you interested in my travels to England this autumn will be able to keep in touch with my activities.

I am not a person highly regulated by routine, but I mean to make a special effort to keep this updated as both a way to stay sane through this completely, completely new event in my life and an effort to let you all know that, well, I am alive each time I update.

Here are the facts about this blog:

1) I have created it because I am going to use it to keep a record of my trip to study abroad at the University of East Anglia in Norwich, UK: a record which will ideally include pictures and stories.

Here are answers to potential questions you might have about these facts:

1) Yes, really.

Wish me luck; cheers, ta, and everything else the British say.

((please send peanut butter in advance!))