Don't Jay-Walk

Well, the count is down to three days now...if you count like I do. That is, you should never count today, and you should never count the day you are leaving. So yeah, three days to go. I find this to be an optimistic not unrealistic outlook. Today also marks the three more shifts at work count. Today, tomorrow, and Tuesday, then I will be jetting across the ocean to London and beyond. Crazy thought.


I have made great strides and tremendous breakthroughs in the packing world. The spare room was for a time covered in all my clothes, shoes, and various accessories and electronics. Of course, I almost left my soccer shoes and shin guards at home, but that's no surprise to anyone who really knows me at all.

Other than that, I am officially read to hit the road. And I honestly think I could fit more in my suitcase if I wanted to. I've never been able to zip one up so easily.

Yesterday I went to visit Kathryn at her new apartment in Ithaca, which was amazing. How crazy that I have friends with apartments now. We had a chill night. Hung out, cooked dinner, caught up on life, watched Disney movies (including Robin Hood which was totally appropriate), and went for walks through the various neighborhoods. All in all, the perfect night discussing England related adventures to be had over thanksgiving break (for her) and just a regular old week for me in England! I didn't want to leave this morning with the prospect of work right around the corner, but the next time I see Kathryn will be at the airport in London. Think about that. Aren't we sounding very international?

My friend Leah (who is absolutely famous, so if you don't know who I am referring to, I would figure it out) was kind enough to send Ash and I a list of tips the other day. She visited England and some relatives a few months ago and was able to pass on to us some expert advice:

1. Don't jay walk. Cars don't stop for pedestrians in London, they'll just hit you. Really, it almost happened to me haha.

2. Get an Oyster Card. It's for riding the tube. Although I'm almost certain that they'll tell you that, and maybe even give you one.

3. Keep a map of the tube on you at all times.

4. Look at some sort of visitors guide. There are a shit ton of random little museums, and a lot of them are free. And worth checking out. Like famous dead people's houses and whatnot.

5. When you're on the escalator down to the tube (or up from the tube), stand to the right, unless you're moving really fast. The people who are on the left are in a freaking hurry, and they will blow you out of the way.

6. Check out Soho. Super cool shops and restaurants. And of course Oxford Circus and Piccadilly Circus.

7. When talking about pence/pennies, the locals just say "p," like the letter p. "That piece of candy costs fifty p." Pounds can be referred to as quid, but you guys probably already knew that, being the experts you are ;)

8. For god's sake, buy some Cadbury chocolate. They have varieties over there that you've never even dreamed of. Definitely try the Flake and the Whispa. (This advice she comes by genetically, I do declare!)

Amazing. So, we've got the advice, the tickets, the suitcase...now all that's left is the actually leaving. We're getting closer.

"Suddenly, in the space of a moment, I realized what it was that I loved about Britain--which is to say, all of it. Every last bit of it, good and bad--old churches, country lanes, people saying 'Mustn't grumble,' and 'I'm terribly sorry but,' people apologizing to ME when I conk them with a careless elbow, milk in bottles, beans on toast, haymaking in June, seaside piers, Ordnance Survey maps, tea and crumpets, summer showers and foggy winter evenings--every bit of it." --Bill Bryson, Notes from a Small Island

"I do find London exciting. Much as I hate to agree with that tedious old git Samuel Johnson, and despite the pompous imbecility of his famous remark about when a man is tired of London he is tired of life...I can't dispute it." --Bill Bryson, Notes From a Small Island

You're still here?

The dreaded question, asked every time I go to work (or anywhere at all really) has come to grate on my last nerve. Politely, as I have a hundred times before, I explain that I leave the 29th. Although I am the last person to expect anyone to remember every detail of my life (as I can never remember any detail of theirs), I have come to dread this question. It acts as a constant reminder that I am in fact...still here. However, hope remains. I get to smile and answer: "Two weeks now".

I contemplate the date two weeks from today with a mixture of excitement, anxiety, and relief. I've just started packing, which mainly involved ironing a colossal pile of shirts and folding them up to sit by my suitcase, and laboriously hauling in a worrying number of shoes.

I am almost through with the daunting experience of reading through the entirety of my guidebook on Great Britain (which of course includes England, Scotland, Wales, and North Ireland...a virtual, page turning, tour de Empire). The guidebook has perhaps caused more trouble than good as I now have a burning desire to go to every obscure little hamlet in the United Kingdom. For instance: yes, of course I want to visit Tintern Abbey ("Do I behold these steep and lofty cliffs, That on a wild secluded scene impress Thoughts of more deep seclusion; and connect the landscape with the quiet of the sky") and perhaps even compose some lines a few miles above it. And as long as we're on the topic of literature, obviously I want to go to the castle and see the room where Macbeth was "murdered". And why not see the church where the Magna Carta was written? Walk alongside Hadrian's wall? Visit Anne Boleyn's childhood home? Find the Forest of Dean for the simple reason that Harry Potter camped there in the Deathly Hallows? These are all important places...and in my opinion are not to be overlooked. Hmmm. Which town do the Weasley's live in again? And can I run around with my wand in it and complain of Wrackspurts buzzing about my head?

AND...what about Ireland????? Perhaps it was the Irish Festival on Saturday...or maybe it was the two hours of Flogging Molly I listened to on the way back, but I have had an unfortunate (but strong) desire to go back to Ireland. Anyways, is there anything stopping me from going on a weekend excursion to Galway? I'm thinking I need to get back to a place where people say "cheers" as a way of greeting or thank you, and crack usually doesn't involve the use of drugs, and where bands are paid in the pub with pints, and people make shamrocks in the foam of their Guinness. It's been too long. Is there such a thing as too much traveling?

Anyways, tomorrow marks the big two week countdown. If you haven't already marked up your calendars...I suggest you do so. Because soon I'll be drinking Pimm's and punting about Oxford.

"Tell me one last thing," said Harry. "Is this real? Or has this been happening inside my head?"
"Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?"

HWAET!

For those of you who are not English dorks, this is how the epic Beowulf begins...so what better way to begin my epic adventure across the Pond? Today begins the official 4 week mark, and I find myself itching to begin the journaling. Anything to trick myself into believing the plane ride is just around the corner. I begin today because of a very exciting package I received yesterday: shipping address: Oxford, England. Now that's an address. Anyways, the package contained all manner of items to get excited over. Vaccination forms, contracts, the Worcester College handbook, directions for safe cycling in Oxford (which in my case might mean not cycling in Oxford), order forms for Commoner's gowns and Fresher's T's as well as the two most exciting items...the "Provisional Induction Schedule Michaelmas Term 2010" (for those of you not in the know, this is the Orientation Schedule for "Fresher's Week") and a letter from my Oxford "parents".

Apparently new students in Oxford are presented with college parents. Don't worry, I was assured that this is not "quite as creepy as it sounds". At Worcester students are part of a college family system that often includes (but is not limited to) parents, brothers and sisters, grandparents, estranged lover's, etc. Interesting. However, both of my "parents" sound really cool. My Woosta father is named James and he is the college hockey captain ("of the field variety, not ice") and hopes that I am in possession of some "stick skills". My college mother is named Catherine, claims James' geography major requires the "coloring in of pictures) and says she spent that past year rowing very, very badly. In short, I am already loving school.

The college handbook includes a glossary of specifically "Oxford" terms which I will now call Oxfordisms. Here are some of my favorite:

Bop: A college party usually held in the bar and organized by the JCR Entertainment Committee
Commoner: What undergraduates become after matriculation and stay until they graduate
Cuppers: Inter-collegiate competitions in just about anything
Fresher: New student
Pigeon Post: University postal network
Tute: Slang for tutorial

I'm sure there will be many more Oxfordisms to follow once I have been fully indoctrinated into the Worcester system. If you haven't already...be sure to check out the links on the left of the site. They include the Oxford University, Worcester College, and IFSA Butler sites and will give you a better idea of where I will be this coming fall!

"In a story you only had to wish, you only had to write it down and you could have the world...It seemed so obvious now that it was too late: a story was a form of telepathy. By means of inking symbols onto a page, she was able to send thoughts and feelings from her mind to her reader's. It was a magical process, so commonplace that no one stopped to wonder at it. Reading a sentence and understanding it were the same thing; as with the crooking of a finger, nothing lay between them. There was no gap during which the symbols were unraveled."--Ian McEwan