Brighton Way

So it is time to finally say goodbye. I've been back in the states for 18 days now. I feel like I've just been hiding in my parent's house trying to trick myself into feeling like I am still abroad and not dealing with the fact that I am back in St. Louis. Maybe writing this will help.

As I was driving around my neighborhood (major down side of being in the U.S. is that I have to drive. I HATE driving), and I started noticing that all the streets and neighborhoods are named after places in the UK. There is a group of streets near my house called Westminster and an apartment building called Chichester. It's laughable. But then I saw a street sign that said "Brighton Way" and I almost drove into oncoming traffic because I was so distracted. It really warmed my heart that there was something in St. Louis named after my favourite (yes I spelled it the Brit way) place in the world right in my own home town.

Even though it is sentimental and a bit silly, that sign represents to me the intersection of my time abroad and being home. That even though I have left Brighton physically, living in the UK has changed me in a lot of ways, including:

1) I enjoy meeting and hanging out with new people a lot more. I used to just hang out with people I already know, but I've realized I miss out on so much if I ignore other people just because I don't know them yet.

2) I'm much better at finding the good parts of any place. I used to think St. Louis was boring, but now I've discovered there is a lot of great art exhibitions, restaurants, bakeries, custard places (ok, most of it has to do with food) here and I'm better able to seek out and enjoy the good in a place.

3) I'm better able to deal with change. Hopefully this will help me as the big "G" (the-event which-must-not-be-named, Graduation for all you thick people) approaches.

Alright, enough gooshy emotions. Time to say goodbye. For all the people I met at Sussex, there is an open invitation for you to come visit me in St. Louis or wherever I happen to be, and hopefully our paths will cross again because I loved getting to know you. And thanks to everyone who took time to read my blog.

Last comment/expression of my feelings: I'm just so excited to see what happens next.

Progession towards the END

My last week in Brighton is so fun to look back on. I hit up all my favorite Brighton places with all my favorite Brighton people. I finally had fish and chips (well, chicken and chips) on the beach, complete with vinegar on my chips, and I praised the ingeniousness of such a tasty meal in such a perfect setting. Although, the highlight of that week was going to the bars on campus drinking with Olivia and her flatmates Aoife and Amy. It was so nice to spend my last night in Brighton with my adopted flat and just feeling a part of campus, since all the third years (seniors) has just received their results and were celebrating, or drinking away the sorrow, depending.

And then of course there were the goodbyes. I got to say goodbye to most people, though of course there are people that I missed saying goodbye to, which is incredibly sad but also spared me the heartache of actually saying goodbye.

After I left Brighton, I lugged all my luggage up to London and enjoyed my last bit of London with Cecily. We went to the Tate Modern, which I enjoyed. And being a hard person to please (I generally hate modern art), showed that once again, London museums are superior. There was one room that had a giant table and chairs which made me feel like I was in Alice in Wonderland.

Then after London I went to Dublin to meet up with family friends from when we lived in Bangkok, Thailand. They were so hospitable and I really love Dublin as a result. The city also reminded me a lot of Edinburgh, in that it has really Incorporated nature into the city. In fact, it feels like the city is second fiddle to the surrounding hills and scenery. And we went to a pub in Dublin and the bartenders were as friendly as Irish people are rumored to be.

We also went to Belfast, or near Belfast. On the drive there, as we pulled into their neighbourhood, there were Union Jacks and the flag of Ulster everywhere. In fact, there were more union jacks flying in that one small neighbourhood than I've seen in the rest of the UK. The reason for all the flags is that July 12th is coming up, which is when the Protestants (I was in a protestant neighbourhood) celebrate the Battle of the Boyne in which a protestant king defeated some catholics (my knowledge of history is astounding). So they celebrate this event my holding a parade, which goes through catholic neighbourhoods and obviously trouble ensues. I hadn't expected to actually see evidence of "The Troubles" during my very short stay (less than 12 hours) in the Northern Ireland, but I did.

Then I came back to London to collect my things, and get on the coach to Paris. I thought it would be a nicer and greener was to travel given that I've been taking so many (too many) flights. What a horrible, horrible mistake. I felt like such a snob, but honestly the people who were on the coach were the weirdest bunch of people with whom I've been forced to share an enclosed space. Just to give you an example, one guy laughed in his sleep, loudly. I felt like I was in a moving insane asylum. And the bus smelled.

I cried as we left Dover. I think my sadness was increased by how awful the coach was, but I was really sad to leave. I told people that I will be back soon. And hopefully I will. If I could control the future, I would move to Brighton after graduation. But given that my bank account is hurting, and that I learnt that we have very little control over where life takes us, I honestly don't know when I will next be in the UK. And I met so many awesome people and really got used to living there.

Enough whining. So, Paris. I had a great day in Paris consisting mostly of eating and looking at art. I don't know how the french do it, but they manage to make something as simple as flour, eggs, milk, butter and sugar (ingredients for a butter, sugar crepe) taste so mind-blowingly great. I also made a stop at the Louvre, and while running away from the annoying crowds (I actually had someone ask me to move out of their picture while I was trying to enjoy the art!!! I accidentally gave them such a glare) I found a couple of cool rooms of Northern European religious art.

As I left the Louvre I walked back to the apartment I was staying in near La Fontaine St. Michel and watched the sun set on the Seine with all of the people picnicing. Taking my inspiration from them, I decided to get a baguette, some brie, olives and a bottle of Cote Du Rhone wine and that was dinner. A prefectly tasty ending.

American Pancakes

I find myself missing the oddest things from the U.S. I miss the bacon turkey bravo (a sandwich) from St. Louis Bread Co., and I don't even really like Bread Co. I miss California, and while I've been there a lot, I'm not from there. And the worst craving of all, is that I miss American Pancakes. Here, the word "pancake" refers to what Americans, and more importantly, the French, call "crepes. " So finding "American pancakes" has been a struggle. I could make my own, but I'm lazy and my kitchen in York house is growing new kinds of mold never before seen on earth, so going in there might be damaging to my health.

But I found a restaurant that had American pancakes on the menu. I decided to go with my friend Amy as a post-exam treat (although I've been celebrating being done with course work for three days now). The cafe we went to had this great outdoor terrace and was so relaxing. I was so excited to dive into some big, fluffy, butter-smeared, syrupy pancakes with a side of bacon. But when my plate arrived, there were three small (hand palm-sized) pancakes stacked on top of each other with layers of bacon and strawberries in between. Most unorthodox of all, the so-called "American pancakes" were served with a SIDE SALAD of rocket. The American pancake experience was almost as upsetting at that time that I ordered a fajita and it had mayonnaise in it. Ewwwww.

However, while the American pancakes weren't what I had expected, they were still tasty. I don't really have time to phrase this nicely (I'm racing the sun--I want to go outside and read in the sun, but I'm worried the weather will change suddenly and ruin my plans) so I am just going to say it plainly. Basically, I think it is unfair to bring all of my expectations and comparisons based on the U.S. to England, which is another country and culture despite the shared language. So my dissappointment at that nice cae was really my own issue instead of any relfection on the cafe.

I've been thinking about this a lot, mostly because the Americans here have been complaining about England a lot. They don't like the food, the customer service, the weather, how all the shops close at 4:45pm etc. But the truth is, if you stop having expectations that are based on your experiences in the U.S., all those annoying parts of England seem less significant,. Yes, there are some waiters who forget to refill your water, or take forever to get the bill etc., but there are also really nice enthusiastic shop sales people who like to tell you all about how the shoes in their shop were designed in Brighton etc.

So while my American pancakes (and even the gross fajita) weren't what I expected, they were still good, just different (I'm being very generous towards the fajita). And I guess that is what study abroad is about: adapting to a different situation and trying to make it successful. Too bad I finally realized this two weeks before I have to leave. Maybe I'll just stay...

Quick sidenote: I keep meeting really cool, interesting people right before I have to leave. WTF, life? Life is cruel.

Just Another Benedict Arnold

So I've been entertaining traitorous thoughts in many forms.

The most shocking is that, unlike France where I would (quite pathetically) stalk Americans just to hear English spoken in an American accent, I have begun finding American accents really difficult to hear. Of course there are exceptions. My American friends at Sussex are alright. But if I am sitting on the bus, walking around Brighton or generally going about my life in the UK, and I hear an American accent, my ears start to shrivel because the accent sounds so harsh. Like blunt knives attacking my eardrums. I might have to invest in ear plugs for my first few weeks back in the U.S.

I previously posted things I am going to miss about the UK, but losing the diversity of accents is really going to hurt more than anything else. Here in the UK, the amateur linguistic part of my brain is constantly stimulated. It will be sad to go back to a place where everyone sounds about the same.

Scotland was even better for hearing a diversity of accents. One night in Edinburgh, when Daniel and I were deciding what to do, I told him that I just wanted to go someplace where I could sit and hear Scottish people speak. Luckily, we went to a pub that had Scottish music and we met these older Scottish guys (around 60) who told me about Robert Burns (Scottish poet they all pee their pants over), traditional Scottish music (they sometimes use spoons for percussion) and offering me their sons for marriage. I would have taken the offer. Can you imagine having Scottish babies?

So my second treacherous thought is that I think I might prefer Scotland to England. When I mentioned to the older Scottish guys that I have been studying in England and that I really like it, they responded with dead silence. I quickly picked up that my love of England was not an acceptable expression in a Scottish pub and a rushed to say that while I like England, I love Scotland, and that seemed to placate them. And though I was altering my feelings so as to not upset them, it is somewhat true. I think the Scottish are more similar to Americans (in a way I enjoy) in that they are really friendly and warm. And from the walking tour we did, it seems that the English really have been major bastards to the Scottish. For shame.

Last night, I was hanging out in Olivia's flat and I had been showing her flatmates the Lonely Island videos (they hadn't seen I'm on a Boat!!!), and I blurted out, "I miss America!" They looked at me rather bewildered. And I was bewildered too. Because while it is true, I do miss home, as soon as I said it, the other part of my brain said, "Don't be silly, it is much better in Brighton."

Basically, study abroad is making me have multiple personality disorder. Fabulous.

Everybody Limbo!

So I think my last month in Brighton is going to be characterized by "Limbo." The problem is that I am genuinely starting to feel settled into Brighton. I'm now starting to accidentally pronounce words in an English accent and I am using new idioms with abandon.

But most importantly, I have finally, finally, found eateries that I want to return to and count as one of my "places". Before, when asked about the restaurants where I had gone out to eat in Brighton, I would usually respond, "it was alright. You know, good, not great." And it was true. Everywhere I have eaten in Brighton (that I could also eat at frequently with my budget) up until this month was decent, but never inspired a return trip.

Well, we have recently discovered a couple of places in the North Laines that I have frequented almost everyday this week. The first love is Brighton Coffee Co. The coffee is good, but not mind blowing. Its the attic that attracts me. Whenever I go up there I feel this wonderful mix of peace and creativity. The space is simultaneously enclosed--its feels isolated and private--and also expansive since the window looks out onto the rooftops of Brighton. And they play interesting, mellow music, so it is not oppresively silent and then just quiet enough to think or read. I want to live in their attic. Maybe I will make it my happy place, and revisit it mentally next year when the stress of WashU living hits.

My second love is Lick. It is froyo, but it is literally just yogurt they have frozen and is fat free and probiotic, i.e. healthy! Plus when you put honey on top the honey slightly freezes which makes it thicker and the texture is just...well, if I go on I might pass out from happiness.

And lastly there is RedVeg which serves vegetarian hamburgers, fries, falafel, and other wraps. This place satisfies my craving for an American style greasy burger, and takes away the enviromentally-concious-guilt I usually feel from supporting the cattle industry. Plus, they have this sweet, jelly-like, spicy sauce that you eat with the chili potato wedges. I was so happy to find food (especially potatoes) with actual flavour.

At long last I have found food I like in the UK! Hurrah!

But the feeling of Limbo comes from the fact that I am ready to go home in some ways. Two of my Sussex friends left for the U.S. this past Monday. And this is just the beginning of a steady stream of people leaving to go home. Other people leaving makes me think what it would be like if I left, and then I start losing the place I've created for myself, in my mind, in Brighton.

So, Limbo it is and Limbo I will learn to be comfortable with for the next month. It's not so bad, really.

Lists Rock

I am susceptible to my generation's obsession with lists (the fb notes, the countdown shows etc.) and can't think of a better way to pass the time.

I'll start with the negative so that I can end with positive.

10 Things I am Happy to Leave in Brighton:

1. The Seagulls

The Seagulls here are the size of chickens. Bigger. And they are the meanest bastards you will ever meet. I am a generally peaceful, nonviolent person, but the damn seagulls here are so infuriating that they make me want to kick them. I considered hunting one of them and stuffing it to bring home as a souvenir. I might have problems at customs though.

2. Messy Freshers (that means freshmen). Uni of Sussex doesn't have a meal plan, so everyone has to cook for themselves. Imagine what WashU might have been like if we were all given and expected to use kitchens during our freshman year. There has been a box of dirty, hazardous to your health, dirty dishes that the cleaning staff is threatening to throw out. And the smell. Oh god its bad. Plus, there is so much litter on campus. Lots of people go up to the hills around campus to drink and eat, but then they'll often just leave crumbled up cans and wrappers strewn everywhere. It breaks my heart because the countryside here is so beautiful. I might even cry one solitary tear.

3. The pound. My money is worth shit here. And I constantly feel poor and like I shouldn't buy anything.

4. Missing people I love back home.

5. Paying £3.60 to get into Brighton by bus and then having to pay an extra pound after midnight, which works out to be more than five dollars. I know someone at Sussex who drives a car because it works out to be cheaper than taking public transit. So while the public transit is much more extensive, it is also more expensive.

6. Customer service, or lack there of. Speed doesn't seem to be as much of a priority.

7. Everything closing early. The pubs will often kick you out at 11! And you can stay out at night clubs, but if you just want to sit in a coffee shop or at a bar, you're out of luck.

8. Lack of work. While I love having very little school work, I do feel really lazy and I am ready to get back to my American work ethic.

9. The academics. In my English course, it is expected that all of the opinions you express in a paper are back up with secondary sources written by scholars and critics. They really don't seem interested in just hearing your own opinion, which offends my sense of individualism.

10. Drunk and loud people. I don't know if I don't notice it as much back home, but my impression is that the U.S. is a lot less tolerant with public displays of drunkenness. And honestly I find super drunk people a little frightening.

10 Things I Will Miss About Brighton

1. DESSERTS: scones, clotted cream, the thousand different kind of biscuits (cookies), cadbury's products, and how cake is an acceptable afternoon snack.

2. The Brighton beach. The old pier is, cliched as it is, hauntingly beautiful.

3. The English countryside. I can't define it but it is definitely different from the U.S. And when the weather is nice here, it is so much more magical just because its rare.

4. Villages. We have nothing like it in the U.S. In Rottingdean the neighbourhood tea room was built in the 1500s, which is 200 hundred years before the U.S. was even created.

5. Theater/music/art/comedy. All four of those things are so accessible and plentiful here. I went up to Falmer village recently to buy some veg and someone had installed this eerily beautiful sculpture of a man and a woman leaning towards each other in the middle of the village pond. It just seems that artistic expression is more integrated into life here. You don't have to go to a museum to see art.

6. But if you do go to a museum (in London at least) it is free and phenomenal. The mark of a good product, in my opinion, is if it makes you want to create something as well. Bad sentence. I mean that, a really well written song makes me want to write songs, a really funny comedian makes me want to do stand up and the museums in London make me want to study art history and be an art curator. The picture on this post is from the British Museum.

7. Travel accessibility. London is an hour by train, and most of Europe is only a three to four hour plane trip.

8. The people. I've met some really fantastic English/Irish/Welsh/Scottish and American people here. And I feel like I've barely had time to get to know them.

9. Lack of work. Adjusting back to having more responsibilities and courses, plus senioritis, is going to be rough. And I just feel so much healthier in some ways this semester (def not in others, I've eaten too much pasta and potatoes) because I've had so much less stress.

10. Variety of Accents. Even when my lectures are incredibly boring (most of the time, in fact) I can still amuse myself by listening to the lecturer's accent and trying to mimic it under my breath. No wonder no one sits next to me at lectures, wah-wah.

Oh Hell No

I hoped that this day would never arrive. If there is one thing I am more afraid of than being attacked and/or popped on by a seagull, its that I will develop a Madonna-esque fake English accent. If I can avoid both of those, then my time in Brighton will have been a success. Its just so horribly pretentious, and SO uncomfortable when I know that someone is American and they are trying to pretend like they have an English accent. I cringe inside, and sometimes I physically shudder as well.

For example, there is this girl in one of my seminars who I am sure is a decent, nice person, but she puts on this fake English accent and I know she's from Seattle. Even more embarrassing, her "English" accent is especially strong when she is impersonating someone pretentious. I keep wanting to pull her aside and tell her, "You aren't in the states. You are in ENGLAND. We are surrounded by people with the accent that you are making fun of. We are out numbered and they could hurt you."

So I've been monitoring my accent and trying to stay as A-meRr-ican (how George Bush says it) as possible. Although with Maryse visiting I started to realize how many English-isms I've picked up, such as "doing the washing up." But today I was buying frozen yogurt in the laines with some friends and I was saying which toppings I wanted. I asked for cookies and cream (they were plain old oreos), and then, a moment I wish I could take back, I asked for "Bah-nah-nah." After I heard myself pronounce "banana" in this way I flipped out and corrected myself and apologized to the worker who was helping me. He just smiled in a conspiratorial way, which was cute. I also dropped my two pound coin and it rolled away for a really long time. All in all it was undoubtedly the most bizarre frozen yogurt buying experience of my life.

So even though it was scary for me, the frozen yogurt worker's reaction was nice. And then we went to another dessert place (yikes!) called Choocywoocydoodah (the picture is of this store). And I asked one of the workers there (they are all really cute and I have a big crush on them, the store, the whole package really) what some other customers were drinking (hot chocolate with a ton of whipped cream). He asked me where I was from and I think he was kind of impressed that I was from Missouri, which is probably a first for me. He said, "Missouri is a long way from here. Do you like chocolate, have some," and then he gave me free chocolate! So, I'm in love. He had tattoos too.

So, Brighton is really growing on me, despite an unfortunate trend on my part of adopting some of the accent.