Oh, This Wacky Island!
This One Time, in England... - 2.5.04
Anne
Hello from England. As I'm reporting, picture me in field khakis and a pith helmet with a vaguely nervous look on my face, just to add a sense of drama. Of course, that image would be entirely false. There aren't any bombs falling here, only rain. Lots and lots of rain. This is a country of copious puddles and mud that makes an oddly satisfying squelch noise under your boots as you walk.
The weather is the first thing people usually talk about in England, and it's as good a place to start as any. Indeed it does rain most of the time here, and even if it isn't raining, it's usually overcast. This has lead some to believe that this is a country where God thought a dimmer switch would enhance the mood. Or, to paraphrase Henry Rollins, it rains all the time here so that guy from the Cure will have something to write about. People here are especially interested in what I think of the weather, since I am from the Sunshine State, after all. Sure, you do start to miss the sun after a while, and you may occasionally worry about getting rickets, but generally it isn't that bad. You get used to it with astonishing speed.
England makes up for its lack of sunny weather in other ways, though. One of these ways involves an awful lot of alcohol. People here are more than happy to buy you a round or three, especially if you tell them you're an American. I think it has something to do with our fairly abysmal alcohol tolerances and their desire to see us get smashed out of our minds. Even the most hardened frat boy would blink and mutter "dude" into his beer funnel while watching British boys and girls in all their bar-crawling glory. The difference in the definition of alcoholism between Orlando and Newcastle is about... oh, about 20 shots of vodka.
Recently I've taken to punishing my liver in a way that would probably worry my parents. I take it in stride though, because, on the whole, the bar scene here has a totally different feel than in America. Things are much more laid-back here, in the sense that no one at University drinks because it's the cool thing to do. It's simply one of the only things to do, especially in the lovely Northwest of England, where I'm currently living. Of course, there are a few of the younger students who've never lived on their own before and take every opportunity to assert their independence by seeing how much liquor they can possibly retain and then vomit up. But for the most part, that kind of attitude is rare. On the whole, this is a good thing, although it does mean I'm regularly spending more on drinks than I am on food as my tolerance goes up. This is something that I'm working to rectify, though I wonder if the British economy would crumble if everyone took up a Temperance movement. The world may never know.
In spite of (or perhaps because of) their tendency to saturate me with alcohol, the people here have been extremely friendly. Of course I've had to answer a lot of questions about American politics ("No, I don't know how Bush became President, either...) and even more questions about Disney World. But still, I enjoy it. I also share a hall with several American Studies majors, so I get to impart to them my vast knowledge of State Capitals, little known facts, and other random crap. Many of the people I've met wear a lot of black and seem vaguely gothic without realizing it, which is always a plus in my book.
These are, of course, just my vague and rambling impressions, and I've only been here a month. There's plenty more to talk about: the perils of international spelling, that crazy British sense of distance and this so-called "metric system," the mythical Happening Music Scene, and beans on toast. All this and so much more! So strap in, kids. It should be an interesting, if slightly sodden, five months.
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