I suddenly realized that I've been living in a foreign country for more than a week now. It's rather odd to think about that, especially with the knowledge that I have about another two-dozen weeks to go. I think it's safe to say I am definitely enjoying the prospect.
I'll begin with the random aspects of my trip so far... Like "cheers." I'm not entirely sure if I understand the usage of this phrase enough to get away with actually using it myself. In the states, we say "cheers" when we clink wine glasses, as if to say "I'm very happy that something is in my glass/the person giving the toast has stopped talking." In England, someone said "cheers" to me after handing me my plate in a restaurant and I thanked him ("you're welcome," "enjoy" perhaps?). Then someone said cheers to me when I handed him a pitcher of water after church today ("thanks"?). I've also heard it exchanged between people when parting ways ("see you" or maybe "take care of yourself"). I thoroughly interrogated an English person about it yesterday, with little luck. He gave an explanation of "cheers" as a "thanks" or "I'm leaving now" sort of phrase. All I know is that I need to adopt this, because it is seriously cool English slang.
I've also noticed that probably the main difference between British English and American English, besides random bits of vocabulary and diverse spelling, is in the vowels. American English has a slightly more nasal pronunciation of "a" sounds, "ay." While, the British "a" is more aspirated, like "ah." Ah-men, not Ay-men to finish a prayer. The English also have words like "paedophile" instead of pedophile, or "anaemic" instead of anemic. Redolent of the Latin ae, it makes these words almost kinda glamorous.
Know your astrological sign. Even if you're not into that sort of thing. The immigrations officer asked me if I favored Aries or Pisces more, since I'm on the cusp of these signs, just to see if I knew when my birthday occurred. Luckily, I had looked this up once upon a time, and could more or less coherently answer something about thinking I was more an Aries.
England is as wet as everyone says it is. Or at least, it's rather damp most of the time. I don't think it has actually downpoured yet, but usually a light drizzle can be expected at least daily. This is rather lucky, because rarely is this particularly uncomfortable. Though the sky seems to be resigned to be permanently oatmeal coloured. On a further discussion of the weather, it is not nearly as cold as it is in the US right now. It seems that my profound fears of freezing before spring arrived were misplaced, touch wood (which is the British way of saying "knock on wood").
I've discovered that even prestigious universities such as Oxford are just as disorganized in some aspects as Mercer is, fancy that! I've been looking for opportunities to get involved in the English equivalent of intramural sport teams, but had some trouble because many of the websites hadn't been updated in the last five years. I did finally get in contact with the Fencing Club and the (ballroom) Dancesport Team, which have both been most welcoming. Especially the Fencing, which has classes just for beginners, like yours truly, who have no prior experience or equipment. I can't help grinning, thinking of having stories about "when I Fenced at OXFORD." How posh is that?
I've also found a church, which is pretty exciting. There are an astronomical number of churches for the size of the town of Oxford. This might be explained by the fact that each of the 20-odd colleges has a chapel, in addition to the various denominations that must be represented. It kinda puts the Bible Belt in the deep south to shame. Wesley Memorial Methodist has quite hooked me. Funny how Methodism is a recurring theme in my religious career. A newly made friend, another OOSC student, brought me to one of the college age activities and it just felt like home. I think making jokes about dividing by zero with some math majors over a game of Smath (scrabble with math, go figure) helped a little. Fantastic to find there are lots of equally nerdy people here. They've also recruited me for the choir, which might be interesting... We'll see how that goes. First practice on Friday. The lady I mentioned my passing interest to nearly squealed when I mumbled something about perhaps wanting to try out for the choir, especially when I mentioned I was a soprano.
Classes are going to be something entirely new. I can honestly say I can't wait until my first formal tutorial on Tuesday. My French tutor is amazing. End of sentence. This professor speaks 20+ languages fluently and she works in a world renown library as her day job. Dr. Susan Halstead has a soft, swift voice that seems to flutter over her sentences, turning them into liquid, not sound.
I've already heard Dr. Jacquie Rawes lecture, and honestly, I was entirely entranced. She gave a lecture on Jacobean Drama, which I've studied in a 380 course with Dr. Richardson. While Dr. Rawes gave an overview of the topic, only an hour for the subject, she thrilled us with the tumultuous tangles of this genre. Revenge, murder, honour. Gotta love it. When I went to her house for the preliminary meeting, we finished talking about her expectations for the course and establishing a list of dramatic works to read, then chatted for another half hour over local theatre. Apparently, her brother is a minor celebrity in stage theatre, having played Scar in The Lion King on West End for a few seasons and the titular role of Macbeth.
And lastly, a brief sketch of my house. I live in a lovely little house, quite comfortable for a young family of about four or five, though there are only three of us here. Emily, a fellow Mercer student, Jack, from Hendrix and myself. Our tiny driveway has a little wooden gate with a rusty latch, leading to a sitting room complete with a set of weights, oddly enough. The kitchen puts Mercer apartments to shame. I have two miniscule fridges, a dishwasher, washing machine (no drier, but a clothesline), and a gas stovetop. Over the kitchen sink one can see the doubledecker buses drive by with loads of tourist. I desperately want to ride one. Through the kitchen, you pass a bedroom on the left, Jack's. We've compared it to a cupboard under the stairs. On the right is a half-bathroom, which I might as well call a toilet, because that's what the English would do. Then the front door, leading to another walkway punctuated by another charmingly pointless gate. The stairs are rickety and steep, I've been warned about climbing them while drunk. Not sure what to think about that advice, but good to keep in mind. The bathroom upstairs is fully equipped with a shower and leftover shampoo and conditioner. Though one must say, plumbers in the US have the right idea. Toilets here are most dispirited and will only give a half-hearted attempt to flush. The shower too, is rather wimpy when it comes to pressure. A short corridor, Emily's room, a spare bedroom, and two linen closets down, is my room. I think the Warners must have given me the biggest room because I'm the youngest on the trip and a girl to boot. I think it might be as big as my bedroom and common room back in Shorter. I have a wardrobe much too big for my one suitcase of clothing, a short dresser and a mirror topped vanity table. My desk is currently cluttered with a sea of books and papers, does that sound familiar Sara Brantley? The bed was a bit of a challenge, very springy, all up and down my spine. Until I stuffed an entire comforter under the sheets; since then, I've no cause to complain. All in all, a very liveable house. I think this is the start of something potentially epic; I'll keep you all posted.
