School Disco and Eggplant Parm

I've generally been dividing my time here between being a tourist extraordinaire (look, Big Ben!) and being an oh so studious uni student (not college student. College means something else entirely here, and that has lead to mad confusion). When not reading and underlining, I've been examining mummified cats at the British Museum with Team Beehler, hitting the markets with some people from QM, spending an inordinate amount of time walking to and from the supermarket, and stumbling upon the disturbing practice that is the British School Disco.

Here is the scene. It's Friday night, and me and some American QM students want to go out and experience trendy London clubs (aka not only ever go to East End pubs, delightful as it is to hear the round-bellied cockney men talking about their "missus'"). We think about going to Leicester Square, then take a peep at entrance fees and feel too cheap for actually trendy London clubs. So instead we go to the campus bar, which is having some kind of big theme night and a lot of people are going. Awesome, we think.

The theme is School Disco, which is apparently a thing here in the UK. At a School Disco (and before I go any further I should clarify that disco refers to perfectly modern and hip dancing that would properly scandalize John Travolta) one dresses in one's old high school uniform. For boys, this means white button up shirt, school crest tie, and perhaps a grey sweater if we're really feeling the theme. For girls, it means this. Think Halloween, only British and possibly even sluttier. It's some kind of trend to put up your hair like Baby Spice and draw on freckles too, thus really clinching the whole fetish orgy vibe I was already getting from the place. I felt either severely overdressed or underdressed, and couldn't quite decide which. Even the Woo Girls I'd gone out with were uncomfortable. Dude. Brits can slut.

Anyway, that's the update for now. Other moments of note include finally finding a nearby open air Arab market from which I purchased...wait for it...FRESH FRUITS AND VEGETABLES!! After two weeks of cereal and ramen I was able to avoid scurvy and make a delicious and fresh eggplant parm tonight. There was so much rejoicing. And I think my flatmates finally respect me as more than That American Who Lives off Nine Pence Ramen From Sainsbury's.

See? Told you I suck at brevity. Ending this now before I get too out of control.

Day 1 of Week 1

Well today was your typical Bad First Day. Some highlights include:

-showing up to an English seminar where you are the only one who hasn't read the book everyone else has and gets shit for it from your intimidating professor (seriously, dude, I got this class two days ago and the library wasn't even open until today. What do you want from me?), and then finding out you have to give a fifteen min presentation of a close reading next week because that's the only slot left.

-Coming home from that terrible class to find a note from facilities telling me I have bed bugs and they've treated my mattress yet provide no helpful hints about where I'm supposed to sleep while the chemicals dry.

-Trying to figure out how these European laundromats work so I can scrub my bed bug-infested sheets and accidentally turning my beautiful white scarf brown despite my 7 years of laundry experience. Then locking myself in the laundromat. (You think I'm kidding. Ask the dude who let me out.)

-Queuing for 45 min to get a new ID card, then finding out I need to print a form before I can get a new one and still have no clue how to print anything. Ditto for purchasing my course packet. Sidebar: I've come to the conclusion that Brits get their politeness from the sheer amount of time they spend standing in line. I wish I knew exactly what percentage of an Englishman's life is spent queuing. It's like the constant waiting has beaten them into gentility.

But on the bright side I spent a lovely, touristy day on Saturday with fellow jumbo Mitch (hi Mitch!). We hit up Trafalgar Square, Westminster and Millenium Bridges, a slightly sketchy arcade by the London Eye, and the tesco express next to Big Ben. At the National Gallery we played a rousing game of "find the Jesus."

Some were easy...

Others were more difficult .

Tomorrow I'm being touristy again with Claire (yay!), but for now I'm off to play catch up with the reading. As they say here in the East End, ta ra, lads!

We're here!

So I finally manned up and made a blog. Because I've been here for a week and have about 4000 pages to update, I won't be that guy and make my friends and loved ones suffer through an annoyingly long blog post but instead post a few high (and low) lights:

1. British signs are incredible. British people talking is incredible. A Welshman at orientation was talking to us about "London transport," and literally shivered when he described "these new horrid bendy buses." I'm just delighted by anything anyone here says.

2. The Brits don't a) share rooms or bathrooms (what upppp), or b) use the internet for registration. The first is far better news. I queued for just so long yesterday. I queued at departments, at the enrolment office, at the computing services, realized my schedule didn't work and had to queue again at departments...it's really a kind of terrible system that they are bizarrely proud of. Makes no sense.

3. Went out to my first East End pub last night and lived to tell the tale! Although I was far from drunk I still lost my newly minted Queen Mary ID (I guess it fell out of my pocket? Unclear). So now I'm going to be that dumb American and go back to the pub asking if it turned up. Good.

4. Apparently I need to read about 4 books per week per class. But hell if that's going to stop me from leaving my room ever - this city is awesome!!!

5. I saw Sporty Spice play Mrs. Johnstone in Blood Brothers in the West End. It was every bit as terrifyingly horrible as one might expect. Why must erstwhile pop stars try to assert their legitimacy by invading good theater?? It's just not fair to the theater-going world at all.

Anyway, that was my stab at brevity. It's mostly complaints, but anyone who knows me know that complaining is what I do regardless of whether I'm happy or not. And I am very very happy! I miss you all so so so much, and maybe I'll update at least one more time before the semester is out!

E

PS Extra credit points to the person who correctly identifies the quotation in the title of this post