In spite of my whinyness earlier today, the day is slowly looking up. I still haven't gotten out of my pyjamas, but I have made myself somewhat productive. In fact, I've read three journal articles and am about to start on the fourth. I've cooked (Nasi Goreng - a rice/chicken/egg-based dish - enough to do me about 4 meals). I've even begun compiling my notes on a fantastic new program that Microsoft has put out with Office called OneNote. I love it. It would be even better if I had a tablet PC, but that's another story.

But, to top it all off, I've had 'real' contact with my previous life. I had a great MSN conversation with one of the girls from work this summer. She was having a tough time with some of her coworkers, and evaluations have finally come out (although since they're mailed out, I doubt I'll get mine for a while yet). And, yes, she was vindicated. Her ratings were fine, her coworkers' (the ones that were giving her trouble, anyway), were crap! Not that I know that. But gossip travels amazingly well in some circles, and I hear that said coworkers will NOT be coming back to FEP. YAY! She seems very positive, which is always good, so hopefully I'll get to see her when I go home for Christmas.

There are days when I wish I had my apartment back. Not that I'd give up this experience for the world - I'm meeting great people and learning great things. But it's pouring rain today and it's disgustingly windy, and I'd like nothing more than to curl up on my IKEA sofa and light a few candles, put on a pot of hot water, and sip hot chocolate all day whilst watching movies (or potentially actually reading some of the journal articles I should be reading at present). I could wander around in my pyjamas all day, should I choose to do so. But no. At present, I live in one room, no TV, my DVD player refuses to play anything that isn't from North America, candles are prohibited in residence (well, technically they were in my apartment, too, but I have a feeling that would be more rigidly enforced here). At least I bought a small coffee pot, so I can definitely have coffee. But no sofa. If I want to curl up anywhere to watch anything, it's usually in bed, which leads to me falling asleep. And although my flatmates have said they're cool with people wandering around in their pyjamas, I'm still not comfy with that whole notion - they're almost complete strangers, so it's odd.

Anywho.... Back to "Honor and Gender in Early Modern Rome". Oh joy.

I already knew that the Brit's don't do crisps... potato chips... whatever... the way we North Americans do. But some of their ideas don't sound all bad - cheedar and onion flavor... that sort of thing. I still haven't been able to bring myself to try the ever-present "prawn cocktail" flavor that all brands of chips here seem to sell like... I don't know... BBQ or Sour Cream and Onion back home. But I stumbled upon, like, a 'premium' version of Walkers crisps in the grocery store. And this particular flavor is "Oven Roasted Chicken and Thyme". Intriguing. I like chicken. I like roast chicken. I like thyme. I like potato chips. But would I like them all together?

The answer, ladies and gentlemen, is yes. While the flavor is quite salty, it's also ridiculously yummy, and I'm afraid now for my own sanity. I only bought a tiny snack-snized bag, and they're so good I just want more... More! MORE!!!

Yes, that's right folks, I have my life back. The sad, sad life that it is, but it's back. My computer came home yesterday evening, and as a result, I now have my stereo, DVD player, and everything else that I cherish in life, including the ability to download obscure journal articles from online databases without having to pay about 15 cents per page printing/photocopying. Yes, that's right, 15 cents a page is about what it works out to when you figure in the conversion and all that. To print. And photocopy. I'm buying myself a printer/scanner/copier this weekend. It'll hurt in the beginning, but save money in the long run.

That being said, I also managed to upload several of my photos - they're online at the KODAK Gallery... but just to give you a taste, here are a couple of my favorites:

Is very much like Alberta weather, in the sense that if you wait 20 minutes, it's bound to change. Take today for example. At 11 it was sunny. Bright and sunny in fact. Calm, bright and sunny. I would have gone outside and just sat in the sunlight if I could find a patch of grass the ducks and geese hadn't shat on (disadvantage of having lake in the middle of campus, and literally 20 feet from my front door). 11:30. Things are looking grey. The wind has picked up. 12:20 - it begins to pour. Not just kinda, but really. I'm in the computer lab, and I feel drops of rain from the open window behind me. And now it's 12:30, and although it's still quite windy, the downpour seems to have stopped, and there's actually some blue sky out there to the west.

Go figure.

So the lovely Toshiba repair people call today. Yup. That's right. My bloody f*cking keyboard is on bloody f*cking backorder and they have no real idea how bloody f*cking long it's going to take.

F**K!!!! I want my computer back!!!!!!

Ah, the joy of IKEA. I hadn't realized how much I'd missed my IKEA furniture and accessories - cheap, but stylish and damn comfy - until I went to IKEA yesterday. The Overseas Students Association trip to Leeds was fairly well-organized. Well, it would have been, if only most of the overseas students understood instructions in English. There were four busloads of people - 200 people-ish, the vast majority of which were Chinese. I learned later there is a Chinese market in Leeds. Only about 50 of us went to IKEA, but those of us who went had a great time.

There were some things I NEEDED - baskets to organize my room (KASSETT style, and some others), a laundry bag (went with BULLA...), some things I could really use - a coffee pot (one of those fun ones with the plunger that you can use for coffee or tea (KAFFE), an alarm clock (I had one, but it beeped every hour and drove me nuts, and didn't beep loud enough to wake me up), a cutting board, a lamp (SKYAR! Like I had back home! I hate fluorescent lights, and three guesses as to what the light above my desk is), and some stuff that was definitely a splurge - new bedding (TANJA - to get away from the institutional-esque stuff that the university provided me with), a throw (POLARVIDE) to keep me warm, and a stuffed tiger. I needed some company in bed at night.

So. Spent about two hours at IKEA, and then got to spend a couple of hours in Leeds City Centre. Had no idea what to go and see, but thanks to the wonders of the internet, some of the ladies at an online community to which I quasi-belong (it's a fansite, just to warn you all, for the author Diana Gabaldon) were able to provide me with some suggestions. I was told to go see the Corn Exchange, and to see the Royal Armoury, which has recently been moved up from the Tower of London. Unfortunately, I had made the mistake (?) of chatting with an American girl earlier in the day and then felt obligated by politeness to not abandon her in the middle of an unfamiliar city. And she wanted to go shopping, not be a tourist. Fine. Went into a couple of shops with her. Even bought jogging pants (which I _did_ in fact actually use today) and a polar fleece hoodie (ostensibly to go jogging in when it's cold, but I'm wearing it as a regular top today anyway). But towards the end of our time there, I insisted on seeing one or the other. We looked at the tourist signposts, and the Corn Exchange was a little closer.

I really had no idea what to expect. I had been told it had a bunch of quirky shops and that there was a fairly strong goth culture in the area. I assumed it was a street or something. Wrong. It is a building. A HUGE building. It's kind of oval in shape, with three levels, and on each level is a concourse around a middle open area (think... like... middle areas of shopping malls where you can see down to the floor below). But this building is old! It's got these ornate wrought-iron staircases from one level to the next, and ... oh... I wish I could post the picture I took of it. Stupid stupid laptop in the shop. Dammit. But, anyway, around the oval there are TONS of little shops, and she was right, some of them are fairly quirky (an entire shop devoted to condoms?!?!), but there are also some booths with beautiful handmade goods that are fun and funky. And I was actually surprised by the lack of gothyness. I didn't look totally out of place in my jeans and my powder-blue sweatshirt. Yay!

So today, I went to one of York's tourist attractions. I don't have a lot to do besides readings for school, which is nice, so I went on a bit of an excursion into town. Anywho. I went to Jorvik, which is the Viking Centre in York, where you're supposed to be able to meet real, live Vikings in a real historic setting and all that. Fun, right? Good times? Costumed interpreters... Viking history... ya know.

Warning: If you think you might ever go to Jorvik and don't want any potential surprises spoiled, stop here.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Holy crap I am _SO_ unbelievably thankful for what we had at FEP. Should you have attempted to do the conversion, I spent about $14 (Student rate!) to be greeted by a sort of 'mad scientist' figure, who really wasn't all that 'mad' - he was actually quite a nice British chap, an older gentleman, probably retired. We proceeded to go into this 'time machine', (benches in a room with a screen at the front and some fun lighting effects around it) and then to go 'back in time' (think... much tamer version of the Back to the Future ride at Universal Studios) and end up in 975 AD. The door opens, and you're herded down a hallway where you're greeted by... a Jorvik employee in their standard 2005 AD-issue red polo shirt, who seats you in a lovely little roller-coaster-car-type-thing, with speakers in the headrest, and basically you're taken on a 'tour' of the Viking village (in your choice of five languages - just choose from the panel in front of you!). Illusion effectively completely ruined.

It was fairly standard - as you go drifting slowly by in your thoroughly modernized mechanized conveyance, you get to see a leather worker's shop, a wood carver, a blacksmith's (although only the outside), a family home... all populated by... yes... Mannequins. Some even with little automated bits. The poor wood carver was condemned to turn a lathe for all eternity, back and forth, back and forth, never quite getting to actually shape anything... Kinda Sisyphus-esque. I did take a couple of pictures, but without my computer, I have no way of getting them onto this post, I'm afraid.

Perhaps the most intriguing bit of historical interpretation was created by attempting to reproduce the smells of a Viking settlement in 975 AD. Much as I LOVE to smell someone shitting on a 10th century toilet, it certainly didn't make me want to come back to Jorvik at any time in the near future. Nor did the stuffed animals posed in various positions of mid-movement fixity - a cat leaping off of a roof, a dog pissing in a corner. And I wasn't a big fan of the animatronic chickens. Nope. Not at all.

About 10 minutes later, your ride is done. You've passed through the tiny village, and there's nothing left to see. I still haven't seen a live Viking by this point, nor have I been able to communicate with anyone about any of the things I've seen. This entire site is supposedly based on an archaeological excavation that took place in the late 70s and early 80s, so good on them for attempting to bring the past 'to life'... if you can call that life... but I digress.

So the ride is over, you get out, and you're back in the present all of a sudden (not even some strobe lights or sound effects to mark the change! I felt gipped!), and you're herded yet again into a room with modern museum-style exhibits - glass cases and all that - showing some of the actual artifacts from the dig. Labeled? Not really. A case would have maybe a dozen or two items in it, and the only real information to go with it would be a general description... like "Bone. Bone was used to make combs, blahblahblahblah". So you didn't actually know what any of the stuff in the cases was. And was there anyone to ask? Nope. Oh, and periodically, the lights would come up in part of the display case, and you'd see 'someone' (yes, more mannequins) at work with the tools displayed in the rest of the case.

In the next room, I saw my first Viking. 3rd person from the moment you walked in - but how could he be in first when he was surrounded by modern amenities? Granted, you were in a room teaching you how to do Viking crafts, and I should have realized by this point that the target age for this attraction is probably 8-10 years old, but nonetheless, the promise that I was going to meet 'real, live Vikings' was looking more an more like an empty promise, nothing but words.

The next room was a 'be an archaeologist' sort of a room. Again, an 8-10 year old would probably have been fascinated. I, on the other hand, can't be bothered sifting through rubble that other boogery 8-year-old hands have sifted through in order to find the piece of 'bone'. They did have one interesting thing in this room, though - a skeleton, and they had labeled all the wounds and medical information that was available by looking at the bones. I once considered going into forensic anthro, so this was actually really interesting. Poor guy went through a lot - wounds all over the flipping place!

I met my 'next' Viking on the way out. But he seemed so sullen and dull and bored and completely uninterested in his job that I couldn't bring myself to ask the one real question that I had - there's lots of archaeological evidence for shoes - they actually found shoes at the site, but what about clothes? Clothes generally don't survive that long, so I was wondering how they figured out how to clothe all those mannequins. My curiosity will never be sated.

Oy.

But, hey, I bought a mobile phone today, and found the La Senza in town, and set up a bank account, so it wasn't an entire waste of a day. But I could really use those 45 minutes back. *sigh*

I don't know if it was random so much, but...

So I got home from school yesterday, and was putting some stuff away in our kitchen. One of the other girls, from China, was in there making something.

Now, for a bit of background, my flatmates are mostly great. When I see/interact with them, that is. It's like a bunch of dorm rooms in Schaffer (sorry, Nicky, can't figure out how to do the umlaut on blogger), whose doors close automatically, with no common lounge area... so really we just share a kitchen. They all seem really nice, but with the exception of 1 other woman (out of 6 of us!), no-one is from an English-speaking country. Well, maybe the Ugandan, but if she's speaking English on the phone, it's with such a heavy accent I can't understand it. As such, they do what all foreign students EVERYWHERE tend to do - hang out with "their own kind". Which is great. Nice to have someone that understands your language and culture, right? But I sometimes feel like my kitchen has been invaded by the Chinese embassy, as my Chinese flatmates tend to cook for ALL their friends at least once a week - I gather they sort of go on rotation.

But back to the story. I'm putting stuff away. I'm coughing. I'm asthmatic - it's what we do, especially after we've just booted it back across campus in the attempt to minimize time away from the phone (I was praying Toshiba would call... still no word from them though - but my phone did ring the other morning - but when I got to it to pick it up, it stopped. Bugger). But Jacquie (Jing is her real name) looks up at me with an expression of concern and asks if I would like to try some pear soup (which turns out to be really sweet - lots of icing sugar in it). This comes out of nowhere, and I must have looked completely flabbergasted, because she goes on to explain, in her cute broken English, that pear soup is a sort of Chinese home remedy for coughs and colds, and it just happens to be what she's making at the moment. Now, the sharing of the soup isn't what touched me. Sharing food is one thing, but she went on with her explanation. Her parents, she said, used to make pear soup whenever anyone was feeling sick. It's a childhood memory for her. I felt extremely privileged to be let into such a private moment, and to share in that particular memory - especially coming from someone from (forgive me for creating/perpetuating stereotypes) that part of the world: they don't tend to be the most emotionally open people I've encountered.

But now I'm off to - get this - the York Colleges Guild of bell ringers. They have a handbell group, and since I used to dabble in ringing when I was in high school (I play a mean four-in-hand!), I figured I'd give it another shot. And it'll get me out at least one night a week... although having to walk into that pre-formed group all by my lonesome scares the hell out of me. And, should I feel the strange desire to do so, I can wander into a centuries-old church on Thursdays and ring the giant bells in the spire there. Cool!

Gotta run!

And now that I've potentially gotten "Tom's Diner" in your head, I apologize. But that one little phrase of Suzanne Vega's is totally summing up my life right now. It's a waiting game.

I called Toshiba today, and the courier DID manage to get my laptop there. Turnaround is about 5 days... so it's looking like AT LEAST early next week before I get my computer back. Oy. It's currently sitting in their depot awaiting 'spare parts'. Which is probably what happens to Canadian peoples' laptops when they request that they have a US-style keyboard rather than a UK-style keyboard when their laptop is repaired. Sigh.

I'm also waiting for Saturday. 'Cuz Saturday should be fun. I'm going to play at IKEA! Yay! The nearest IKEA is in Leeds, which is a bit of a drive away, but the Overseas Students Association is organizing a bus there on Saturday, which cost a whole £2 (about $4CDN)... and I'm definitely excited about the possibility of getting myself a laundry bag, a drying rack, and, potentially, some sheets/duvet cover that aren't the ugly ones the University gave me. Not that they're god-awfully ugly, but they're definitely not my style.

I'm still waiting for my information to come in the mail so that I can get my bank account opened. Hasn't arrived yet. Should've gone with something other than HSBC - their website was less than informative, their customer service has been absolute shite, and I'm still waiting, more than a week later, for the paperwork to open my bank account. And then I have to wrestle with TD Canada Trust to see if they'll let me wire transfer without being physically present, since they won't do it over the phone any more. Bugger.

And so I sit. And I wait. And Ms Vega runs through my head incessantly.

So. Of all the things they could possibly give me, my first assignment is a book review. Which isn't too bad - it's only 3 pages or so, not the 12-page monster I was once assigned (who the hell writes 12-page book reviews? Apparently students of Canadian history). But, with my laptop in the computer hospital, the air conditioning in the computer lab broken... I think I'm in book review hell. Seriously. I may curl up and fall asleep on the keyboard. It's so warm in here.

Isn't procrastination wonderful?

School really starts in earnest this week. Hence the book report due. It says I'm supposed to circulate it around. I suppose that means I have to print a copy, then photocopy it for everyone else to have as well. Hm. I also have to give a presentation (in conjunction with one of the guys in my course) on Thursday, but that should be short and sweet. I hope. In the meantime I've been bored as all hell. I'm so used to having my life scheduled to the hilt. I mean, last school year at this time I was working 2 part time jobs, filming a TV series with Access, taking a full course load and attempting to have some sort of a social life. And right now I've got school. That's it. Eep.

Ok, now I really should write that book review. Bugger.

This seems really flippant and trivial, especially considering my last post, but my laptop got shipped off to Toshiba today. Perhaps soon my entertainment centre and lines of communication will be reopened. Yay!

They're Holly McNarland's words... not mine... but they couldn't describe the situation more accurately. I just received an email from a friend informing me that her father had committed suicide. I can only imagine the grief and marvel at her amazing strength in this situation.

Things not to do when you arrive in a foreign country:

1. Spill coffee on your laptop. So now several keys on my keyboard don't want to work. Fortunately, though, (and I bought a Toshiba for precisely this purpose), there is a certified/authorized Toshiba depot in this country that will send a courier to pick my baby up, they'll fix it, then courier it back to me. So hopefully I'll have it back and on my desk in working order in a couple of weeks tops. But in the meantime, I'm using the public computer lab, which is awkward as all hell, 'cuz I don't know where half the keys are. For some stupid reason, for example, the " key is shift+2, while the @ is shift+'. The number sign is over one key from ' and the £ sign is shift+3. I'm never going to get used to this. Argh. But it means that MSN messenger is out (if you read my name you'll probably be able to discern what some of the disfunctional letters are now...). Sigh.

2. Get sick. I was working with a crapload of people who had colds, I've been messing with my internal body clock, and yesterday I spent the day in town exploring - it was pouring rain and I got absolutely flipping soaked. So now I have a cold. And no one really to whine to - although I did call my mother and cry after the coffee incident.

But, anyway, once I get my computer back from the Toshiba depot, I'll post some pictures of my adventures in York - with Margot, a Canadian... an Albertan in fact... who studied at the U of A... in the Dept. of History no less... and is now here doing her MA in Medieval History. What're the odds?

In other news, I've already bought a ticket for a concert that's coming up here soon - York is the home of the National Centre for Early Music, and they have a Christmas festival each year - I'll be going to see Machaut's "Messe de Notre Dame" (Mass of Our Lady) at York Minster on December 8, performed by the Orlando Consort. Medieval music in a medieval setting - what more could you ask for? And the student rate was stunning. The whole thing is costing me maybe 9 bucks Canadian. The Orlando Consort is actually fairly well known, and the regular adult rate is £15 ($37-ish). Kate's student-y status makes her eligible for a £3.50 ticket. Oh yeah.

But that about sums it up for now. I'll check in again in a couple of days tops - tomorrow is an intro to my dept, then Tuesday is intl. student orientation, so when that's over, we'll see what my impressions of this place are.

It's 5:50 a.m., and the jet lag is making it impossble for me to sleep - I would have just been heading out to the movie set at this point at home - nights seem to have royally messed with my internal clock. So, anyway, I needed something to do. I copied Adele - I stumbled upon this whilst searching for the pic of the Greek kittens

i live: in a small study bedroom in a 'flat' in a graduate college at the U of York

i work: hard, but only after I've procrastinated hard, too

i talk: very seldom - I listen more.

i wish: I could have the best of both worlds

i enjoy: Learning fun new things about history

i look: out for myself and for others.

i must: register with the National Health Services next week and see about getting some prescriptions renewed.

i forget: things frequently. Like today. I'm in the grocery store and forgot to get toilet paper. Oops.

i find: that people on campus are so far mostly friendly.

i smell: my Cranberry room spray from the Body Shop.

i listen: to the music in movies. Like, really listen. Movie soundtracks fascinate me.

i hide: my chocolate sometimes.

i pray: as a last resort, to some being up there...

i walk: All over campus trying to find things

i write: the way I speak. Hence all the ...s

i see: my cluttered desk and want to clean it up.

i sing: semi-professionally, any time.

i laugh: really loudly.

i left: this room to go grocery shopping and watch Spooks (MI-5 in North America - you too can watch it on A&E - probably later this year)

i won: a whole bunch of awards in high school but I'm not particularly proud of any of them.

i can: cross-stitch, knit, crochet, sing, play piano, cook on a wood-burning stove

i own: not much. I could only bring 2 suitcases with me when I came, so at the moment my room is bare.

i watch: people. It's fun.

i yearn: to see a plug-in that looks like the ones back home

i daydream: about finding someone to love

i fall: asleep really soundly, and can't be woken up by most loud noises, including cats fighting right outside my bedroom window.

i want: to be successful in this current venture.

i cry: a lot. Especially when tired.

i burn: anything flammable in moderate quantities. I'm a bit of a pyro, and even just having a candle around makes me much happier.

i read: textbooks... historical fiction... sci fi...kids' books... anything, really, but mostly the first two.

i love: my friends and family

i rode: bareback once. Woo.

i sometimes: just need some chocolate

i touch: my hair. A lot. I have to have it pulled back or else my hands are constantly playing with it.

i hurt: myself with a suitcase. There is a giant bruise on my ankle from where I must have banged it or something.

i use: fun pens to take notes in class. Gotta do something to liven it up.

i break: sewing machine needles. Just ask Adele

i eat: whatever's in my poor starving student cupboard.

i quit: singing lessons when I hit university and I've regretted it since.

i bathe: rarely now. There's no bathtub in this whole place. Showers are what I'm stuck with now.

i still: don't know what I want my thesis to be about.

i drink: lots and lots of caffeinated beverages.

i stop: functioning properly at hour 6 of an 8-hour day.

i save: my school-work-in-progress in three different spaces - on my webspace, on a disk, and on my hard drive.

i lost: my naivete but not my innocence

i take: criticism badly - but not constructive criticism.

i trip out: rarely... and then usually only because I'm ridiculously tired.

i hug: sparingly; only the people i trust - Adele said it first, but I have to agree.

i play: Sid Meier's Pirates! and Spider Solitaire. Way too much.

i miss: being able to cuddle - with a pet, with another human, either way.

i hold: on to everything. I'm a packrat.

i forgive: but it takes a lot for me to forget - Another one Adele said better than I could.

i drive: myself crazy worrying sometimes.

i learn: arcane facts about a long-gone period in history.

i dream: rarely. At least that I can remember. Although I had a dream last night that involved Brad Pitt. Stupid movie.

i have: to get out and meet people. I'm in England, a country where I know a whole 1 person enough to call up and say "hey, wanna go for coffee", and I know 5 whole other people by name besides.

i remember: green carpet in my parents' first house - but they say they got rid of the green carpet before I was born.

i don't: do all-nighters. I get physically ill without sleep.

i like: the smell of vanilla, sleeping in an extra 15 minutes, having 24/7 access to the 'net in my room...

i made: my first knitted project this summer. It was a dishcloth. Does that count?

i kiss: little these days.

i believe: that there is something out there, but what it is, I don't know.

i wait: for phone calls that probably won't come

i need: a bath sponge. Couldn't find one at the ASDA this evening.

i owe: my parents both monetarily and for so many other things.

i hate: intolerance

i feel: my back aching due to the unfamiliar mattresses and shitty pillows

i can't: touch my nose with my tongue

i know: that I'll get through it, even if it doesn't seem that way at the time.

i applaud: anyone who makes a concerted effort to accomplish something extraordinary

i am: getting settled into this new life

i figure: it'll all work out in the end, so just kick back, relax, suck it up and deal with it.

Well, folks, after several exhausting hours of flights, I finally made it to England, heading out the doors of Heathrow airport into the real world at about 10:15 p.m. local time. Caught a cab to Allison's from there, and for the first time I've ridden in one of those London taxis... ya know the ones... the classic black things with the cool insides... um... let's see if I can find a pic... Oh, the internet is great - absolutely riddled with pics of the bloody things! But, anyway, it being 10 p.m., it's dark out, of course, which means that I got to see the sights in London at night. It was gorgeous! I mean, I've done it before, in February, when I got to hang out with Allison, but for the first time it was just me in the back of the cab (which is huge, by the way - seats at least 4 people back there!), staring out the window as London passed by. To get to Allison's place it's about a 50 minute drive straight through London, and so I passed absolutely every single sight, each of which is floodlit at night, and it's absolutely freakin' gorgeous. Buckingham Palace, Westminster Abbey, the Tower... lovely.

I didn't bother playing the tourist this time around, though. No open-topped double decker bus rides for me, I'm afraid. I I spent most of Tuesday cross-stitching in Allison's sitting room, watching British daytime TV... There's this program on BBC1 about the effects of alcohol in Britain, which is fairly interesting, and there's another one on BBC1 or BBC2... maybe 2... where the presenter has been showing off the links between classical music and modern pop and the weavings and interlinking facets of the two. On Tuesday it was about the Beatles, then yesterday it was about Cole Porter. It was pretty cool. Tuesday evening, Allison and I went out for dinner at a curry place near her work, then wandered back to her place to watch Bridget Jones' Diary, which I still hadn't seen. I laughed. A lot. It reminds me that there's still hope for my romantic life yet, even if Bridget is a completely fictional character. It was nice to see Allison again, and she might even be on the same flight as me back to Edmonton for Christmas, interestingly enough.

Yesterday was spent packing up again (not that I'd unpacked much at Allison's anyway), catching a cab (not the cool London sort, unfortunately - those are stupidly expensive) to King's Cross Station (where I neglected to find out if there was a Platform 9 & 3/4 sign up yet again!), and then hopping on a train up to York. Hopping. Hm. Not hopping so much as struggling with all my luggage. I was dreading having to deal with the stuff at the other end since the York railway station, unlike King's Cross, has several staircases that you might have to take in order to reach the exit. Thankfully, just as the train was slowing down to pull into York, another guy on the train saw me hauling all my luggage down and offered to help with a suitcase or two since he just had a small bag. He helped me to the taxi rank with my stuff, and I shoved it into a taxi, then it was off to the University, which is just outside a little village called Heslington... although it's difficult to tell where York ends, the University begins, and then where the University Ends and Heslington begins.

Heslington really is a tiny village. A couple of banks, a post office, a couple of pubs... that's about it. Quaint and cute, but not that much there. I wandered down there to open a bank account today, only to be told by the bank in question that I had to make the initial application online, wait for them to mail shite out to me, then head into the main branch of the bank in York city centre to actually activate the account. *sigh* Thank god for the Visa card. I may actually need it.

Having arrived at the University, I checked in with the porter, got my keys, and hauled my luggage to my room, which looks like this:

It's pretty tiny, and the duvet cover is nothing to speak of, but hey, it's mine... and best of all, it has its own bathroom. A tiny, minimal, claustrophobic's-worst-nightmare bathroom, but a bathroom nonetheless. The residence is really modern - it was only used for the first time in the 2002-3 school year, so nothing is old, it's all still fresh and bright... It has a bit of sterility to it, but hopefully I'll accumulate stuff soon enough and have it decorated a little. I don't know if York has an equivalent to the Imaginus sale... and I just noticed that the date on those photos is totally wrong. Oops. I'll have to fix the camera (mom gave me her digital camera! Yay! There will probably be lots of photos on the blog now, assuming I can remember to take the camera places. The best bit of the whole thing, though is probably the view. Check this out:

Now that, my friends, is a view. The whole campus is centred on a man-made lake, which has hundreds of birds living on/around it - ducks, geese, etc. Those little black splotches in the photo are ducks. And there are these black birds with white splotches on their heads that I have yet to identify that are all over the place. And pigeons and such, of course. In fact, I can hear them outside my window right now. That might get annoying, but hey, I sleep through anything.

My 'flatmates', if you can call this a flat, seem fairly nice. Unlike the university rooms where I've been before, there's no real common lounge-y area with a TV and sofas and that sort of thing. Or if there is, I haven't seen it. I share a kitchen with 5 other girls, 2 of whom seem to be Chinese (I know one is... haven't actually said more than two words to the other one yet), one from Uganda, one from England, and then one who hasn't moved in yet, I don't think. If she has, I haven't seen her, and there are still all sorts of papers and things outside her room.

I'm going to have to get over my fear of bridges pretty quickly, though. If you want to get anywhere on campus without it taking an inordinate amount of time, you have to use those footbridges like the one in the pic. It's not too bad being on them, but it's definitely uncomfortable for me, since I hate the damn things so much.

I spent the morning this morning wandering into Heslington, discovering that you have to apply for the bank account online, then wandering around campus doing paperwork and the like. I have set up my email account with the university (yay!), which is nice, since I JUST received the email from the U of A saying they're going to cancel my account. Buggers. So if anyone wants to get ahold of me, send me an email quickly, and I'll let you know my new address. I also hit a stationery store quickly for pushpins and the like for the memo boards in my room. I'm seriously considering buying a printer as well, as they're only about 49 pounds... which reminds me that I really need to figure out how to type the pound symbol... I'm probably going to need to do that fairly often.

But to finish, I bring you all a list of the major differences I've noticed so far:

• Traffic (obvious, I know, but it's just reflex for most of us to look left, then right as we cross the street. Now I have to retrain myself to look right, then left.)
• Light switches. For some reason in this country, you flick the switch DOWN to turn everything on. So confusing.
• Electrical outlets. Different shape, different voltage. Luckily I bought adapters for my two plug-requiring electronic appliances before I left.
• Telephone cords. Different shape plugs into the wall socket. I attempted to use mine to access the phone line for dial-up internet before I got my network services set up, and failed miserably.
• The hot and cold water faucets are NEVER combined into one stream of water.
• The healthcare system is two-tiered. EVERYONE gets the basic stuff, which is decent in and of itself, but, hey, if you can pay for more, go for it! And they really don't have a problem with it over here. Honestly, I think it could be a model for Alberta and Canada - everyone DOES get service, and those with the ability to do so could put themselves on the upper tier, removing themselves from the queue for the lower tier, and hopefully alleviating some of the backlog. But, then, I've never discussed the healthcare system with a Brit, so who knows?
• Pillows have no loft whatsoever. None. It's like there's no pillow there at all. I'm seriously going to have to try and find someplace with real pillows.
• No one seems too keen on bedsheets. You have one sheet to cover the mattress, then to cover yourself up, you get a duvet. That's it. Forgive me, but I like my layers. I need to find an Ikea or something like it around here.

Now, fortunately, there are some things that are similar to home. While out shopping, I found Terry's Chocolate Oranges. Yay! I mean, I think they're a British invention to begin with... and here the slogan is "tap and unrap", rather than "whack and unrap", but it's still pretty much the same thing. And I found Special K Red Berries! Yay! And Fusion pens!