I may be in a different country, but some things are exactly the same.
Friday after class I agreed to walk with Allison for (what I thought would be) a simple trip to the post office. Her friend Peter had mailed her train tickets and since she wasn't at our flat to sign for them, she needed to pick them up. Easy, right?
Wrong. Peter, in a brilliant moment, put his name instead of Allison's in the address line when he sent the tickets. Since Allison is not Peter and could never in a million years pass for Peter, the man at the post office couldn't give her the envelope with the train tickets. That wouldn't have been so bad if we had a way to prove Allison lives in our flat, which was the address on the envelope. Problem: apparently Syracuse University (which arranged all our housing and did all the paper work) has no record/proof of who lives in which flat (which is a bit concerning). The man at the desk said we would just have to purchase new train tickets. At that point, I was extremely worried about his safety because Allison looked like she was winding up for the punch (for the record, she is extremely friendly...but my money is on her in a fight with anyone).
What happened next is further proof I am turning into my mother. The Sylvie in me was not about to leave without those train tickets. Both Sylvie and my own experience from working front desk at a hotel have taught me that being mean will get you nowhere ("You're right, sir, you absolutely should be yelling at me right now because it is 100 percent my fault we don't have an ATM machine in the building. Actually, we used to have one, but I heard you were coming and might need to use it so I had it removed moments before you arrived").
So after just over an hour of smiling so much my face hurt, assuring the man at the desk that we absolutely understood why he couldn't give us the tickets and we were ever so pleased he was doing his job so well, saying what a shame it was that we poor university students would have to shell out more money for train tickets that we already had sent to us, Allison showing about eleven forms of identification, and shameless flirting on both our parts, we walked out of the post office with the train tickets. Of course, now Peter has pronounced me the "pushy American" (what a silly idea), but I prefer the term "assertively friendly." Peter, the only reason Allison has allowed you to live is because we got those tickets. You owe me a beer.
We rewarded ourselves with delicious food on the school's trip to Brighton. The day was absolutely perfect - beautiful weather, beach, lots of time to explore, shopping...we've already decided we're going back at some point before we leave, if only for the people watching. We saw about five different hen parties (you could pick them out because they were all wearing matching t-shirts), a 40-year-old man sitting outside a pub in a wedding dress (he was drunkenly asking if anyone wanted to "jwoin in his merriments;" we declined) and lots of boas and devil-horn headbands. I also noticed the disturbing trend of British men wearing either very short shorts or capris when it is hot out. I know London is supposed to be the best place for men's fashion or something like that, but that is one fashion I think America can do without. Guy thigh is never a pretty sight.
The following day we realized how spoiled we've been with the weather here. It had barely rained since the day we arrived, but on Sunday it POURED. So naturally we decided that was the best day to do a Jack the Ripper tour. Genevieve and Doug had flown into London that morning as part of their EuroTour, so they braved the elements with Jennings, Allison, Crystal, Mike and me. Although Jennings and I were disappointed that our favorite tour guide from our last trip wasn't there, it was really interesting. Our guide went into a lot of detail about the murders though, so Allison and I had to watch a light-hearted movie before we went to bed to avoid Jack the Ripper nightmares.
Looking for a way to stay fit in London? Don't join a gym; climb the stairs of the Monument. All 311 of them. Gen, Doug, Allison and I took on the challenge, and it was definitely worth it. The view at the top is absolutely beautiful (not to mention the sense of accomplishment you feel and the certificate you get on the way out).
Once we caught our breaths, we ventured over to St. Paul's Cathedral, which we could see from the top of the Monument. We didn't go inside, but it was neat to see the building up close. I've learned so much about it in my European Cities class with Professor Western last semester (it's actually illegal to obstruct the view of St. Paul's, but new buildings are changing the view and it's quite controversial), but I hadn't comprehended that I would actually get to see the Cathedral in real life. It's surrounded by beautiful gardens, and if you don't get killed by a bus on the way there, it's definitely worth a look.
The speakers we've had for class have been absolutely incredible, especially the ones dealing with media. I feel like I always leave inspired and with a new perspective on things. On Monday Justin Webb from BBC's Today radio program talked to us about broadcast in the UK; I definitely have a talent crush on him. He's so well-spoken and intelligent, and I appreciate that he treated us as equals instead of talking down to us as students. It was interesting to hear about a system where TV and radio stations are legally obliged to be impartial. If your questions don't challenge one party as much as the other, or if most of your guests are of a political persuasion, there are legal consequences. Here they also expect the interviewer to be quite rude to politicians in a way that definitely wouldn't fly in the United States. That's partially to compensate for the fact that journalists don't have the same freedoms in the UK as they do in the US.
But some things are the same in both countries. The UK still has the same problem of balancing world view with impartiality,of having to choose between what people want to hear and what they need to hear. And just as in the US, "Drama and acting are part of the job. You've got to be entertaining." My class was making fun of me because I was in full Amanda-nerd mode, furiously scribbling notes and asking questions, all while trying (unsuccessfully) to hide the fact that I had a crush on a man more than twice my age.
We also talked to Taylor Downing, who runs an independent TV production company. He's not a journalist, but he's all about long-form pieces and storytelling (right up my alley). We watched a documentary his company made about the Cold War, and by the end of the lecture I was starting to seriously think that kind of work is something I'd like to do. He wrapped everything up by saying, "I believe all of us can be taken by a good story. It's almost like narrative is in our DNA." I was hooked.
Our political speakers have been very good, too. We talked to John Trickett, a Liberal Party Member of Parliament. I don't agree with his politics, but he's a very likable, persistent person with a fascinating story. Liz St. Clair from the Conservative Party also came in and spoke to us about women in the Party and in Parliament. The guys didn't like her (they thought she was "too feminist;" I think they were just uncomfortable when she was talking about the double standards for men and women in politics). I liked her a lot, probably because she reminds me of my mom.
Packing for Dublin...can't believe we're actually going! More updates after this weekend.
Thursday, 9 June 2011
Friday, 3 June 2011
Punting, Polling, and "Harry Potter Church"
I've been here a week and it feels like a day. I should have been writing things down as I went along because now I'm having a hard time remembering it all - in the best way possible, though, because I'm having such a good time!
On the first day everyone was absolutely exhausted. So many of us had spent our entire days traveling, and the flight from JFK to London was no picnic. It was my lucky morning though...as we were landing we encountered a bit of turbulence...that's right...I was THAT girl who threw up on the plane.
Fortunately that wasn't a sign of things to come. A few hours later I discovered I had lucked out with the rooming assignments. Allison and I hit it off right away. It's a good thing she's so laid back and willing to put up with me...I have a feeling other people wouldn't be so thrilled if their roommates had been here a week and still hadn't fully unpacked. I'm getting around to it, I swear.
There are about a hundred of us here through Syracuse (I think), but everything is pretty much split up by program. My program (Politics and the Media) is a really good mix of people. The first day/night was an appropriately awkward getting-to-know-you affair (with Allison and I being the loudest, and Mikey-Mike laughing at us the whole time, naturally), but everyone seems to have settled in by now. I feel like I've known some of these people forever.
Of course the first weekend involved a lot of exploring. There was a big soccer game the night a bunch of us went to Trafalgar Square, and it was absolutely incredible to hear the singing and chanting and to see everyone dressed in their team's colors. I've never been very into soccer, but that night helped me see why it's so important to people. There was such pride and an incredible spirit that I have never seen replicated in any other sport.
Sunday we took a group trip to Greenwich. It was great, except for one very small problem...I fell in love with my tour guide. I'm only half kidding. Jennings and I were sitting in the front row with ridiculous 13-year-old "I have such a crush on you" grins. British, attractive, British, charming, British, smart, British, funny, British....I think the other females on my bus are on the same page.
I think I've cooked more in the last week than I ever have in my entire life. Granted, the only things I've made have been cheesy bread and salmon, but still - I think my flatmates would agree that they were successful. Of course, my definition of successful is making it through without burning anything down or injuring myself or anyone else. Maybe this trip will be good for my domestic skills?
Classes kicked in this week, and I was definitely a little worried on the first day. It was mostly lecture (to get us up to speed with how politics and the media work in the UK), and I just can't sit still for that long unless I have an IV of coffee going into my veins. Fortunately the subject matter was very interesting and as the week went on we went to different places and talked to different people.
We went to The Times on Wednesday to listen to Danny Finkelstein, the Executive Editor. I walked out of there inspired and ready to go out and be a journalist. It was so refreshing to hear someone say positive things about the industry. I'm so used to hearing about how stations are consolidating and cutting back, no one is hiring, you'll be poor forever, the lifestyle is difficult, you have to sacrifice everything for a thankless job, etc. But Finkelstein has such faith in people's desire for news and in journalists' ability to fulfill that desire.
One thing he said that really stuck out was, "The more times you shoot at the target, the more times you score. So just go out and do it." Every since seventh grade, I've known I was going to go to Syracuse to become a broadcast journalist. It was never a question - it was a decision. In the past three weeks, I've been second-guessing that decision a lot, wondering if the pursuit of an awkwardly ambitious 13-year-old's dream is worth everything it comes with. Finkelstein made me realize I've been over-thinking it. I just need to do it, to keep shooting at the target. I may not succeed; I may not even end up in journalism. But I've never been so committed to making sure I know that I shoot at target as many times as humanly possible.
On a lighter note, yesterday's trip to Oxford was the most fun I've had in a long time. The tour of the Union and the debate itself reminded me of my mock trial days, and watching all those people speaking in front of everyone had me itching to do a closing argument just one more time (Ken, I think I'm starting to turn into you).
But before the debate we managed to get into Christ Church without paying, thanks to Jon's smooth-talking abilities. We saw the Great Hall from Harry Potter and the beautiful chapel...Allison soon dubbed the place "Harry Potter Church," which I found completely appropriate. I'm proud to say we were "those Americans" while we were there, sneaking into places we weren't supposed to be, trying to figure out how to get past the places that were roped off. It worked about 90 percent of the time.
Our biggest adventure of the day, though, was punting. There were four of us in a large flat boat - at any point during the trip one of us would have a very large rod that we'd use to steer the boat by pushing it off the river floor. I'm proud to say, with as much humility as possible, that I was the best at it! Jon was not pleased that the people running the boats saw he had given the driver's position and heavy rod to the girl in the dress ;)
As a group, we've already done so much of the wonderfully touristy things - Platform 9 3/4, Greenwich, Oxford, Trafalgar Square - but so far my favorite "activity" has been the early-morning walk I took with my roommates one day before class. We didn't have a particular destination in mind. We just...walked. And by the end of it I felt like I was actually a part of the city, cheesy as it sounds. Yes, I get lost every five seconds, and if I tried to use the charming British accent people would probably throw things at me. But that morning it hit me that I live here now. It's a thrilling, terrifying, and comforting thought, all at once.
So many parts of this trip remind me of France - especially the train ride last night. I was leaning against the window about to fall asleep and I had a huge flashback of using Chase as a pillow on the way to Nice (and everything else), lost passports, explorations of Paris, late-night "rebellious" activities....Chase, Allison, Katrina, Lexie - can we go back? Please?
On the first day everyone was absolutely exhausted. So many of us had spent our entire days traveling, and the flight from JFK to London was no picnic. It was my lucky morning though...as we were landing we encountered a bit of turbulence...that's right...I was THAT girl who threw up on the plane.
Fortunately that wasn't a sign of things to come. A few hours later I discovered I had lucked out with the rooming assignments. Allison and I hit it off right away. It's a good thing she's so laid back and willing to put up with me...I have a feeling other people wouldn't be so thrilled if their roommates had been here a week and still hadn't fully unpacked. I'm getting around to it, I swear.
There are about a hundred of us here through Syracuse (I think), but everything is pretty much split up by program. My program (Politics and the Media) is a really good mix of people. The first day/night was an appropriately awkward getting-to-know-you affair (with Allison and I being the loudest, and Mikey-Mike laughing at us the whole time, naturally), but everyone seems to have settled in by now. I feel like I've known some of these people forever.
Of course the first weekend involved a lot of exploring. There was a big soccer game the night a bunch of us went to Trafalgar Square, and it was absolutely incredible to hear the singing and chanting and to see everyone dressed in their team's colors. I've never been very into soccer, but that night helped me see why it's so important to people. There was such pride and an incredible spirit that I have never seen replicated in any other sport.
Sunday we took a group trip to Greenwich. It was great, except for one very small problem...I fell in love with my tour guide. I'm only half kidding. Jennings and I were sitting in the front row with ridiculous 13-year-old "I have such a crush on you" grins. British, attractive, British, charming, British, smart, British, funny, British....I think the other females on my bus are on the same page.
I think I've cooked more in the last week than I ever have in my entire life. Granted, the only things I've made have been cheesy bread and salmon, but still - I think my flatmates would agree that they were successful. Of course, my definition of successful is making it through without burning anything down or injuring myself or anyone else. Maybe this trip will be good for my domestic skills?
Classes kicked in this week, and I was definitely a little worried on the first day. It was mostly lecture (to get us up to speed with how politics and the media work in the UK), and I just can't sit still for that long unless I have an IV of coffee going into my veins. Fortunately the subject matter was very interesting and as the week went on we went to different places and talked to different people.
We went to The Times on Wednesday to listen to Danny Finkelstein, the Executive Editor. I walked out of there inspired and ready to go out and be a journalist. It was so refreshing to hear someone say positive things about the industry. I'm so used to hearing about how stations are consolidating and cutting back, no one is hiring, you'll be poor forever, the lifestyle is difficult, you have to sacrifice everything for a thankless job, etc. But Finkelstein has such faith in people's desire for news and in journalists' ability to fulfill that desire.
One thing he said that really stuck out was, "The more times you shoot at the target, the more times you score. So just go out and do it." Every since seventh grade, I've known I was going to go to Syracuse to become a broadcast journalist. It was never a question - it was a decision. In the past three weeks, I've been second-guessing that decision a lot, wondering if the pursuit of an awkwardly ambitious 13-year-old's dream is worth everything it comes with. Finkelstein made me realize I've been over-thinking it. I just need to do it, to keep shooting at the target. I may not succeed; I may not even end up in journalism. But I've never been so committed to making sure I know that I shoot at target as many times as humanly possible.
On a lighter note, yesterday's trip to Oxford was the most fun I've had in a long time. The tour of the Union and the debate itself reminded me of my mock trial days, and watching all those people speaking in front of everyone had me itching to do a closing argument just one more time (Ken, I think I'm starting to turn into you).
But before the debate we managed to get into Christ Church without paying, thanks to Jon's smooth-talking abilities. We saw the Great Hall from Harry Potter and the beautiful chapel...Allison soon dubbed the place "Harry Potter Church," which I found completely appropriate. I'm proud to say we were "those Americans" while we were there, sneaking into places we weren't supposed to be, trying to figure out how to get past the places that were roped off. It worked about 90 percent of the time.
Our biggest adventure of the day, though, was punting. There were four of us in a large flat boat - at any point during the trip one of us would have a very large rod that we'd use to steer the boat by pushing it off the river floor. I'm proud to say, with as much humility as possible, that I was the best at it! Jon was not pleased that the people running the boats saw he had given the driver's position and heavy rod to the girl in the dress ;)
As a group, we've already done so much of the wonderfully touristy things - Platform 9 3/4, Greenwich, Oxford, Trafalgar Square - but so far my favorite "activity" has been the early-morning walk I took with my roommates one day before class. We didn't have a particular destination in mind. We just...walked. And by the end of it I felt like I was actually a part of the city, cheesy as it sounds. Yes, I get lost every five seconds, and if I tried to use the charming British accent people would probably throw things at me. But that morning it hit me that I live here now. It's a thrilling, terrifying, and comforting thought, all at once.
So many parts of this trip remind me of France - especially the train ride last night. I was leaning against the window about to fall asleep and I had a huge flashback of using Chase as a pillow on the way to Nice (and everything else), lost passports, explorations of Paris, late-night "rebellious" activities....Chase, Allison, Katrina, Lexie - can we go back? Please?
I have a funny feeling that if I blink, this entire trip will be over. Guess I'll have to focus very hard on not blinking.
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