Wick-Um, Not Why-Comb

Hello, Trolly People, and good evening. Evening for me, though most of you are probably getting out of class or heading to an early dinner. I am please to inform you that I not only survived my first day of class, but the train to the country for my voice lesson, too.

Yesterday I took the tube to Marylbone station and waited for my train (TRAIN!) to High Wycombe. I got there an hour early, and after printing my tickets I bought a bag of "piggie chews" (gummies in the shape of pigs. Awesome). I decided it would probably be a good idea to use the rest room, or "toilet" as is said here. (I never called it the toilet at home. It seems too blunt and crude. But here, no one knows what a rest room is, and no one says loo either, which I was looking forward to.) I turned into the Women's room and was met by an IRON FENCE, telling me I needed to insert 30p to enter. 30P! MONEY!! THEY WANTED ME TO PAY MONEY TO GO TO THE BATHROOM. In the battle for which country is cooler, though the U.K. has had a number up on the U.S. so far, America gets the point on this one. I would NEVER have to pay money to go to the bathroom in the United States. ON THE ISSUE OF TOILETS: AMERICA:1 ENGLAND:0

But I caved and peed, and then boarded the train. Now, it should be noted that I walked around asking a number of people which train was the High Why Comb, just to make sure. They all answered or pointed, and it was only after the conductor announced the places the train would be "calling on" did I realize I had been pronouncing it wrong the whole time. It's wickum, not why comb. Bollocks.

The lesson went very well. When I told my teacher I had bought the train tickets online the night before, she said, "Well, aren't you a smart bunny!" We're doing lots of French (gack!) but my French is abysmal and she loves the language so I should learn a lot, whether I like it or not. I missed my train back but took the next. I should note that while there are a number of "hamlets" and cows and sheep and England countryside looking things, the train from London to High Wycombe is strikingly like that between Chicago and South Bend. It was somewhat comforting.

Today I had my first classes, starting with Ethnic Conflict in Northern Ireland. I know NOTHING about this topic, so it should be a good class. Our prof is from the Midwest, his parents emigrated from Ireland and he's lived here for 20 years. He's got an American accent but he says certain words like "Ireland" and "Parliament" with an Irish accent. So that's cool.

The second class was Britain on the Screen. We watched Sean Connery as James Bond in "Dr. No." Now, the only James Bond movie I had seen before was "Quantum of Solace," so I was up for anything. I must say, Sean Connery was one...hunky dude. I will forgive the eyebrows and keep the chest hair. The film itself is ridiculous, but very fun. Very 60's.

Our flat has opted to do flat dinners four nights a week. There are five of us, and one girl doesn't want to cook so she's on permanent dishwashing duty. (Yay! No dishes!) So far it's the best part of the day. I come home to a warm kitchen with food set out on chopping boards and going in and out of the oven. We all try to chip in, stirring something or setting the table. We sit down together, the five of us squished onto a too-small table, and eat and drink and laugh for over an hour. We've tended to start a meal and then a while after decide we should create some sort of dessert, and before we know it it's 10pm and we've been talking and laughing for hours.



It's the perfect way to end the day. It makes the all-alone-in-a-new-country business far more bearable, knowing I can come home to a "family" dinner. People have started joining us, too. And tomorrow (my night) we are going over to another flat for lasagna, so I'm making a massive salad. I barely eat during the day (too expensive for fast food+too busy+nervous most of the time so I lose my appetite) so it's LOVEly to come back and have a huge, home-cooked meal. (I'm eating, Amanda! I promise!!)

I do, though, miss home. I miss my family, and I miss Notre Dame. I miss Folk Choir rehearsals, I miss Opera Workshop, I miss my Albatross and I miss my Quad. Good Lord, I miss my Quad. I keep thinking, here I am, brave new world! I'm here to learn and explore and discover! But it becomes all the more apparent, with missing my friends and anticipating dinner each night, the journeys aren't about the places you go, they're about the people who go with you. And you are all with me, whether you know it or not.