Playing at the Grocery

      In an attempt to not be too overwhelmed by the insanity that is moving to one of the largest cities in the world, I've been breaking my days up into little missions that help me get to know the neighborhood/prepare for life here. One of my missions today was to go grocery shopping at the Tesco Metro in Covent Garden, about ten minutes walk away.

Going to this grocery story was surprising fun, because it wasn't too big, and there were all sorts of reminders of how hilarious the British are in most every way. Here are a few examples.

    -Their regular sized bags of crisps (potato chips for us yanks) are filled with smaller bags, which are filled with "ready salted crisps" so to actually eat a chip--that, oh thank goodness, you are not required to salt yourself (???)-- you have had to open two different bags.

    -The egg cartons go into very specific detail about the lives of the chickens that laid them
And a follow-up about eggs:
    -No one buys them in portions larger than 6, apparently
    -AND even though the carton says "best kept refrigerated" the British rebelliously place them on a normal shelf across from refrigerated butter, etc. Those rogues.

    -You may purchase orange juice "with bits" or "without bits"

    - There is an entire section of an aisle (in a small grocery store with limited space) that is set aside for chocolate biscuits

    - When you're trying to use the automated till and they think you've done something improper (like add something to your bag without scanning it), a red light flashes and a loud, cheery voice bellows "Help is on the way!"

I was encouraged, though to find that groceries really weren't overwhelmingly expensive. I ended up paying about the same amount for a week's worth here as I would have at home (twenty pounds, or about thirty dollars).

So, to conclude:

If the British can find a silly, cutesy way of referring to something, they absolutely will. For instance, a stubby torch. What is a "stubby torch," you ask?

It is a small flashlight.

Stubby torch.

That is all.

Falling with Style

     When you're so jet lagged that you lie awake in bed until 6 am, you do some crazy things. Like get in floor and do crunches. And yoga. And text everyone on your home time zone to complain. And finally, because British Netflix is much better than American Netflix, you watch Toy Story. 

       Woody was always my favorite character in Toy Story, but last night, half-crazy from jet lag, I felt a lot in common with Buzz. Buzz Lightyear is the new kid on the block. And when all the other toys ask if he can really fly, he just shuts his eyes, goes over to the ledge, and jumps. Can he really fly? Nope. But he's so sure that he can that by some miraculous turn of events involving hot wheels he soars around the room, lands in his feet and wins the day. 

     I'm sitting in Queen's Lane cafe in Oxford, wasting time until my can catch my coach back to London and move into my room. I ate breakfast, miraculously--my jet lag is such that my stomach growled all night and now I feel a little sick at the thought. 

Later today I'll have a place, with a bed to call my own and possibly a down the hall neighbor and the beginnings of a new adventure. This is a wonderful thing. No, I don't have everything figured out yet. No I'm not in this time zone or on this eating schedule. No I don't really know anyone (except Sally--thank God for old tutors nearby). 

        So for now, I'll just shut my eyes, jump off the ledge. Fall with style until the wind catches me.

Thanks Buzz. 

Beginning Again

      I planned to start a brand new blog for this year, but somehow it seems appropriate to start my European adventure right where I left off on the last one. Two years ago, this was my European Studies blog, and now I'll use it for the next 9 months of life attending graduate school in London. I gave it a little overhaul too. The title "It's gonna be a great day" heralded many wonderful days on European Studies--here's to hoping that it brings many more now! 

      Yesterday I got off the plane and stepped into fall weather. The highs have been in the 90s in Little Rock all week--now they're in the 60s. People are (maybe a little prematurely, c'mon England) already wearing their peacoats and gloves. I'm wearing one of my thickest sweaters and somehow can't get warm. I think I might be slightly sick, actually, though I'm not sure if its a real cold or one my body made up for me as an excuse not to push to hard these first few days. 

       I left my luggage at Duchy House on The Strand, where I'll be living this year. I got a chance to see my room, which is minuscule and slightly more expensive than the "small" rooms. I really can't imagine how small the small rooms are. Still, I have high hopes for it. I'm looking forward to moving in and unpacking there tomorrow. 

       After leaving Duchy House, I wandered my way around Victoria Coach station for a while looking for my bus to Oxford. I had to ask for help twice from the guy at information and the second time he laughed and asked my name. 

Him: "Your name's Robyn? Well, we've got a Robin in here! There he is, there." (opening door so that another guy could wave at me) 

Me: "Oh yeah? I'm Robyn with a Y."

Him: "Well he's Robyn with an R!" 

Oh the English. 

    I napped helplessly on the bus, especially since the traffic was horrible getting out of London. Then I chatted with the coach driver on the way into Oxford. He could tell I was a student and asked all about me. I got off at High Street and walked right down to Lincoln College with no trouble at all--sometimes you don't remember how familiar a place is until you're there. 

     European Studies gave me such a warm welcome, and seeing Lincoln again was magic. I was a little worried about going to the last European Studies formal dinner, partially because I'd forgotten my dress and partially because I felt a little uncomfortable not knowing everyone on the program. But I was made to feel extremely welcome by everyone and the food and company was wonderful. I think I needed to see familiar faces and sights arriving here. It's one thing to look forward to and dream about something for so long--it's quite another to actually move to a foreign country and realize that everyone you love is thousands of miles away and you are more alone than you've ever been in your life! That kept me up a little last night, but I slept out of desperation eventually. 

      Today I slept until noon and spent the day wandering and remembering Oxford. It's the most beautiful, peculiar place in the world, I think. Along with Venice. There's nowhere like it anywhere, and I've loved it so much without ever having a very real part of it. European Studies was a dream, but I still felt like I barely scratched the surface of the city. I walked today, wondering again at what a baffling experience it must be to be a student here. So steeped in tradition, nearly limitless resources as your fingertips. London had all the resources and all the history, too, but it's a different vibe, definitely. I liked strolling and seeing new students carrying suitcases down cobblestones. Not so different from me, embarking on new journeys. 

     I don't know how many times I'll end up doing this--having a first day somewhere. Next week is "Freshers' week" at the Courtauld, and somehow, even though I'm doing an MA, I'm included. First year. New student. It isn't so different, no matter how many times you do it. Just like in Highschool, just like at Rhodes. You don't really know anyone (scratch that: You definitely don't know anyone. literally no one.), you don't know where anything is. You have to blunder along blind for a while and try to be charming and cool and look like you know exactly what you're doing when you're nervous and out of your element. And I'm fairly certain it will never stop being completely terrifying. No matter how many times I live a first day, it will never be easy. It's exciting and fun too, of course. But there's always that little nagging uncertainty. What if no one likes me? What if I'm too American or too enthusiastic or just a little out of step? What if I can't keep up? 

I think everyone feels this. I hope so. Because what you have to do in moments like that is push those thoughts away, remember all the people you have at home who love and care about you, and put on a very bright lipstick. Because no one can say no to a bold lip.