Hello crazy kids! Here's the "back entries" of the blog starting from when I was waiting for the plane to London...
Wednesday, 18 September, approx. 6:22 pm - Chicago O'Hare airport - I am terrified. The flight from KC went absolutely swimmingly - not a single murmur of complaint from either of my ears, and without decongestant, too - but I'm to board the flight to London in about an hour and I feel as though I might throw up. Looking around in the gate area, I see other teenage-types that could easily be in my Study Abroad program [Ed. Note - Most of them were, and we are all great friends now.], but that brings me little comfort at the moment. I won't see my parents or most of my friends again till May. That's a tremendously long time. And I'm afraid my sweet kitty will forget me. I consider it quite an accomplishment that I haven't collapsed into a squishy mess of tears yet. Either that, or an example of serious denial.
More and more people keep collecting, asking the woman at the counter if this is the gate for London. I'm afraid to go to the bathroom in case they all decide to hurry and leave without me while I'm not looking. Oh God, there's a well-dressed English businessman over there and the woman sitting across from me sounds exactly like Angela Lansbury. More later.
At which point I ran away to the bathroom in a fit of terror. But it all ended well, as you know. I sat next to a lovely man from Newcastle on the way to London, who told me all about various places in Northern England and Scotland I should go visit. And the flight went just as well ear-wise. What on earth was I worried about?
19 Sept., 2002 - Well, I'm finally here! And I really do want to write a meaningful story about it, but...I'm exhausted. And a little worried that I won't wake up on time tomorrow (I have to be at St. Mary's at ten - that's 4:00 am Kansas City time - and I forgot my alarm clock. But! It's only nine o'clock or so here (3:00 pm Kansas City time - hah!), so if I go to bed now, I should wake up in time despite being incredibly sleepy. Yes.
20 Sept., 2002 - 8:21 am - Ugh. - Turns out I'm even more tired after ten hours of sleep than I was before. I had weird little nightmares all night and yet slept most soundly at the same time. But this morning I woke up and all my back top teeth hurt and there's just enough sinus pressure behind my eyes to make me want to go back to sleep. So it's probably a good thing that Ann (my landlady) brought in a little alarm clock for me just after I finished writing last night. Hmm. Going to take a shower now.
Sat. 21 Sept. 2002 - 10:40 pm - Hello, I'm Granny! - After visiting Erin's precious host family yesterday and seeing how well she was getting on with Conner (her host brother, age 8), I felt all wistful and sad about having not formed such a lovely bond with Ann and Jay and their children yet. So this morning when I realized I'd missed my chance for the coach tour, I decided to resolve myself to using the sudden free time to Get to Know My Host Family.
Obviously it didn't work out, seeing as how I was sitting in an internet cafe at 2:00 pm instead of on a spontaneous outing to Richmond Park or a boating trip with my newfound British kin. When I trotted briskly downstairs this morning, bright and fresh and ready to be showered with love, Ann was helping Julia look something up on the internet for school.
"Since I overslept and missed the tour of central London today, I thought I'd just go explore Twickenham for a while," I announced, fully expecting to be asked in for a chat first, since we hadn't really had the getting-to-know-you talk yet.
"Oh, that'll take you a full five minutes," said Ann, with a sarcastic smile.
I was slightly thrown off, as though I was being told I'd picked the stupidest way possible to spend my time. Then:
"Don't you want your breakfast?"
Of course I did! She wasn't being condescending, she was being all maternal and worried about my nutrition. Resolved to graciously accepting what was being offered me, I went to the kitchen and had...a bowl...of cornflakes. Which were tasty! But no one came in to talk to me while I was eating, which was a little sad and lonely. But I dutifully put my dishes in the dishwasher, and then poked my head back in the family room.
"I'll just be off, then!"
"Okay, bye! Have a good time." A disembodied voice floating in from the other room. Suddenly had need of a hug.
Ask for suggestions on how to spend my time, that's what I should have done. Anyway, I made my way to Twickenham and wrote in my blog for the first time [Ed. Note - That was the first entry I published after my arrival. Good, now you know when all this took place.] I got a creepy feeling while I was writing that my host family was very close by and could read what I was typing. When I finished up and left the cafe, there they were, Ann and Julia, sitting right outside having tea.
"Yes!" I thought to myself as I walked home. "Psychic abilities finely tuned! Must be the cornflakes."
But anyway, when I got home this evening from The Moon Under Water (a pub where we all went to celebrate the birthday of one of the guys in the program, An), after feeling all inferior all day with regards to the bonding-with-host-family situation, I was greeted by a small, stoutish grey-haired old woman who said, "Oh, hello! I'm Granny!"
Melt! "I'm Ruth!" I said. "I don't know if you know about me..."
"Ohhh," she scoffed in a don't-be-silly-of-course-I-do sort of way and shook my hand. "Are you all right, then? Do you like it here?"
Suddenly in popped Julia from the other room with a little half-bounce-skip. "Hello!"
And we were off. The three of us just began gabbing away like old chums about jet lag, public transportation, Disney Land (Julia explained that she understood about being tired but unable to sleep because, "we went to America once and went to Disneyland and were there all day, and you can't sleep in the planes because it's all quite small, so it was just the same."), and Cornwall - Granny just moved here from there eighteen months ago ("to be near the children"), and it's apparently like home in that everything's spread out and you really need a car to get around.
Grannny (who never told me her proper name and whom I will always think of as "Granny" for all time even if she does) was just getting a hot water bottle on her way up to bed.
"Granny sleeps with a hot water bottle even in August," Julia told me. I noticed at one point that Julia does that same little hop-jump thing that I do when I'm really happy to be finally meeting someone or discussing a particular thing. Insta-bond becuase of this.
Hooray! I am a success. I was so worried all summer that my host family would be cold and business-like that just because I wasn't instantly sworn in as a surrogate member of the family I immediately began to worry that they hated me. But I need to keep remembering that it's only been three days,since I got here. [Ed. Note - Now it's been almost a week and things are progressing along nicely.] By the end of the year I'm sure we'll all be excellent friends. But thank goodness for Granny, who's staying the night while Ann and Jay are out for the evening, and who made a long-anticipated friendly chat possible at last.
Sunday 22.09.02 - 7:01 am - Last night I put my alarm clock across the room after setting it so I wouldn't just completely sleep through it. Seems to have worked out quite well. But blimey, I'm tired.
That one was just an excuse to say "blimey."
9:15 pm - A very lovely and productive day. I met up with some girls (Anna, Katie, Kate and Anne - I didn't realize how ironic/confusing that was until I listed off all their names together in my head for the first time) at the school this morning at 9:00. One other was going to meet up with us (another Anne - truly bizarre, no?), but had apparently decided not to. Anyhow, our goal was to do a little exploring of central London on our own.
We walked to Strawberry Hill Station (about halfway between my house and school; I cross the train tracks every day) and bought all-day travelcards. These are wonderful, because they cost only £5.00 and get you on all the trains, buses, and tube stations until the end of that day. So £5 for a day of travel - not bad if you make good use of it.
We took the train to Waterloo Station, which is right in the middle of all the big-city craziness. It's truly like a small airport. We walked from there along the Thames to the Globe theatre (about 15 min.) to inquire about what would be showing that night and if there would be tickets available. (The Globe's season is over in a week, so we're trying to get that in while we can.) Showing tonight was A Midsummer Night's Dream, which was naturally sold out, but we were assured there were almost always plenty of returns. We agreed to come back at 5:15 pm to queue up for that - and learned that the student price for groundling tickets is only £6.50. Not bad, considering it's in the theatre where all of Shakespeare's plays were originally produced. (Granted it's been rebuilt, but still - shut up. It's the frickin' Globe.)
We decided to go have a look at Buckingham Palace. We intended to take the bridge across the Thames to Blackfriars tube station, but when we got to the bridge some friendly be-raincoated policemen told us it was closed due to the protest. The protest! We'd thought we'd managed to avoid it. A bunch of contry-dwellers are protesting the ban someone's trying to put on foxhunting, demanding the right to be heard and wanting to protect tradition and what-not. Anyway, we were advised of another route which, while complicated, would still get us where we were trying to go. They told us that if we had nothing better to do we could join the protest. It was weird, because a lot of families were marching together almost as though it was an outing or something. Protests here are very peaceful and polite, as it turns out. Odd.
We found the tube station, and after a lot of transfering which I didn't at the time understand (althought through the course of the day, I have become suddenly enlightened and the fundamental workings of the tube have become suddenly clear), we came out at St. James Park station. We wandered through the park, caught (by accident) the Changing of the Guard, and had a hot dog. Or at least I did. We all ate different things, obviously. Anna, for example, had a brie and cranberry sandwich - which in retrospect sounds delicious.
The Buckingham Palace tour was nice. Lots of chandeliers and expensive paintings in there. We saw the ballroom, where knightings and things take place. It was all sort of...quiet and pleasant. Anyway. We also looked at the super-posh gift shop, where you can buy something as inexpensive as a pack of postcards to something as crazy-pocket-depleting as the Queen's Golden Jubilee Tea Collection (it's a set of china).
After this, Katie, who had been here before and knew her way around, decided to go see the Queen's Gallery and meet up with the rest of us back at the Globe. The rest of us took the tube to Covent Garden (!) where there would be somewhere for Kate to buy a purse.
Emerging into the big square in Covent Garden was like coming home. The street was lined with mimes. You know, the type that don't move a muscle until you drop a coin in their tin. And there was a guy playing a flute somewere, on a mic, and the music permeated the whole area, making everything seem really nostalgic and meaningful.
After Covent Garden we took the tube back to Waterloo so we could walk over to the Globe area again, grab some supper, and then meet Katie in the ticket queue. We went to a crepe place (mmm crepes), where I had a lovely chicken salad baguette - lovely till the crunchy European bread (which I love so well) rubbed the roof of my mouth raw. Grr. *shakes fist at quality bread* Where's my squishy American sliced stuff?
Anyhow. When we got to the Globe there was already a reasonably-sized queue. Katie had been there for a while and told us they were only selling tickets one or two at a time, as they freed up. Three of us (myself, Kate, and Anne) decided to come back another day and left as soon as we were certain that Katie and Anna had tickets. Our feet were quite sore by this time.
I got to be our navigator on the way back (Yes! Yesss!), and the only time we got lost was within Waterloo Station itself (it's just so big and crazy).
When we got on the train we decided that I would get off at Strawberry Hill and they would stay on till Teddington, which would get them closer to where they live. But when the train stopped at Strawberry Hill, and I pressed the 'open' button next to the door, nothing happened.
"Open!" I whimpered, like a four year old. Nothing. Panic. Pushed the button again, repeatedly. "Opeennnn!"
The only other occupant of our car, a young man in his twenties, helpfully pointed out that I was trying to get out onto the train tracks. "It's the other side," he said, gesturing. A thought bubble appeared over his head. You stupid Americans, country's infested with the lot of ya!
"Oh!" I said cheerfully, overcompensating. Oh God oh God. Oh God. I successfully opened the door leading onto the platform, but then it quickly snapped shut again (nearly nipping my fingers, I'll admit), and the train rolled on.
I sat back down with Kate and Anne. "I'll just go to Teddington with you," I said, casually, trying to pretend the whole thing was my idea.
The walk from Teddington wasn't too confusing, just a little long considering the sore feet. I did miss a turn at one point, but doing so resulted in my stumbling across a really lovely row of shops that I hadn't discovered before (which I now intend to explore), and I quickly found my way again.
I suddenly feel independent and self-sufficient. If I ever get lost in London, I can always get the tube to Waterloo (not after hours, but you know what I mean) [Ed. Note: Not during STUPID BLOODY TUBE STRIKES either. Grrr.], and I can always get home from there. So I'm no longer afraid to go looking for something in London by myself, even if I only have a vague notion of where it is. And I think we've all mastered the art of not looking like complete tourists - we were asked for directions three times.
Ooh! I actually live here!
All right, riding on the tube is not nearly as cool three weeks later when you already know how to use the bloody thing but it'll never let you go where you want to. Boo, hiss. Although, truly, I love public transportation here. It's just the buses that are the real problem. Why doesn't Kansas City have some sort of subway system? Why? Whyyyy?
Monday, 23 September, 2002 - 8:09 am - I am getting ready for registration - just about to brush my teeth and then pop down for a bit of breakfast. I was looking at myself in the mirror just now and was suddenly struck with the sneaking suspicion that I could be getting visibly more trim and curvy. [Ed. Note - It's true. I am visibly watching the circumference of my thighs shrink, little by little. I'm sure you all wanted to know that.]
Extreme dieting plan for the new paradigm: move to England for a year where you will walk hours each day and hate the food. Oh, I hate to think what will become of my figure when I go back to the States, the land of peanut butter and barbecue sauce and pumpkin pie...Not all at once though, ew.
8:50 am - just got back upstairs from breakfast. The morning meal has been the most terrifying routine of all here so far - previously because I kept not having the time/stomach for it, and today because the cereal wasn't layed out as usual and I didn't know where itw as kept. I couldn't bear to be caught poking around the cabinets like a burglar, and at the same time I couldn't bear to ask for it. Every time i have to ask for something like food, medicine, a ride, etc. of someone already showing me hospitality by letting me stay for extended periods in their home, I get all panicky and feel that my request is somehow gluttenous. You know how it felt when you were little and were caught juping on the bed, or with stolen chocolate all over your face? Guilty, and embarrassed and overly self-indulgent? That's how I feel in asking for thinkgs like that of people (even most friends) - and accepting stuff once offered is pretty much the same.
Hmm. Possibly have some sort of anxiety disorder. Oh God, I am a lunatic.
Note - getting better about this. I am trying to consciously replace the previous broken-record inner monologue of "Everyone here hates me and wants me to die" with something more constructive. Slow progress. So far I have come up with "I hate everyone and want them to die." I think it's a step, don't you? ;) [Side note to the side note - not really, I'm being wry. Although the anxiety thing really is getting better.]
11:24 pm - This was a post-pub recount of what I'd had to drink that night and is an intensely boring entry (plus becomes somewhat illegible towards the end), so I will ommit it and just say that I wish cider was more prevalent in the States. Or maybe it is, what do I know?
posted by humanbecoming 6:22 AM
Meanwhile, in London... 
Wednesday, September 25, 2002