Adventures and Absurdities (and alliteration)

I really don't feel like doing work right now, so I'll blog instead. I was going to remark on how quiet this week has been, but then I remembered that I would be lying. It's been an interesting week! It all started with Monday, which was the most absurd day of my life. Stephenie and I decided to head down to Ipswich, which is the capital of Suffolk. It is not as cool as Norwich. Bottom line: when Lonely Planet tells you that a town is not worth a detour, listen! We made it to Ipswich without a problem, but we quickly realized that we were the only two Americans in the entire city, and later we extended this to include the entire county. We were super subtle and had a book of city walks in East Anglia, and we got a lot of strange looks. I mean a lot. We stopped counting around 35, and we'd only been there for two hours. That was enough time to realize that Ipswich is actually really boring and completely depressed (maybe because it was so dependent on the docks that are no longer used? Norwich has been able to develop a pretty good tourist trade to make up for its loss of industry; Ipswich not so much), and we got bored of walking around.
So we decided to move on to Sutton Hoo, which we thought was just a short bus ride away. We were sitting there at the bus stop, waiting for the 71 bus, when what I can only describe as an Australian bush van came careening to a halt in front of us. I didn't even realize that it was a legitimate bus until I saw the numbers on the back - 71. I just burst out laughing so hard that I started crying, boarded the bus with tears streaming down my face, and then held on for dear life because I thought that I was going to die. It was ridiculous. Steph and I were keeping an eager eye out for Sutton Hoo, and as we flew past it I pressed the stop button. Now, on most buses the driver waits for the next legitimate stop and then lets you off the bus. Not the 71 - the driver screeched to a halt and left us on the side of the road, so we had to wade through waist-high grass to get to Sutton Hoo. Oh dear. Then we had to take silly pictures by the sign, of course, so all of the motorists stared at us. We were those tourists.
We finally made it to the actual site of Sutton Hoo (had to walk by a farm first), which was interesting even though there wasn't a whole lot to see. Archeologists still don't really know why Sutton Hoo was used as a burial ground, because there wasn't a settlement on the site. But it was clearly a very honored burial ground for either the Angles or the Saxons (archeologists aren't sure about this either, although the text at Sutton Hoo buys into the idea that it was Anglian. The scholarly debate is between two kings - the Anglian king Raedwald and the Saxon king Sigehberht, whom I refer to as Redwall and Sherbert, respectively). Because East Anglia changed leadership between the Angles and the Saxons so many times, it's difficult to determine who was in power at the time that Sutton Hoo was created. Regardless, it dates from the seventh century, right around the time that Christianity was spreading throughout England. Sutton Hoo is famous because it contains two huge ship burials, one of which still contained a vast treasure, including the Sutton Hoo helmet now on display in the British Museum. This find was monumental because it demonstrated that the early East Anglians were much more sophisticated than archeologists believed, namely because of the influence of other cultures on the burials. Coins from Merovingian France were found in the burial, and the very idea of the ship burial came from Danish culture, so there must have been trade between those two regions and East Anglia (no similar burials have been found elsewhere in the country). The find also legitimized Beowulf as a sort of anthropoligical record of Anglo-Saxon culture. Today you can see the burial mounds, which have been reconstructed following extensive excavations in the late 1930s. Not much to look at, I'm afraid, but the historical significance is huge.

Following our adventures at Sutton Hoo, Steph and I got back on the bushwhacker van to return to the center of Woodbridge and catch another bus back to Ipswich. Well, we got on the right number, but it was going the wrong way. We only realized this after we got out of the city and saw a lot of fields, so I swallowed my pride and my panic and went up to the busdriver. The conversation went kind of like this:
me: "So, we were trying to get back to Ipswich, and we obviously got on the wrong bus. What do we do?"
busdriver: *blinks*...silence... "You wanted to go to Ipswich?" *bursts into laughter*
I was not encouraged, espcially when he pulled the bus over because he was laughing so hard. True story. It turns out, however, that he was very nice and that he got me to find the humour in the situation. His was the last bus of the day, so even if we'd gotten off to wait for the bus going the other way, it would just be him on his way back to Ipswich (finally), so he told us to just stay on the bus and keep warm. To make a long story short, we made it all the way to the North Sea, saw quite a bit of scenic Suffolk countryside, and then saw it all again! During our 3.5 hour adventure on the bus I got a lot of reading done for class, and the driver would frequently glance into his rearview mirror and say something witty such as, "Any of this look familiar?" or, "So you were 40 minutes away from Ipswich, but now you're an hour and 40 minutes away!" and my personal favourite, "Oh, I can't believe you did that - you made my day!" He seemed to take quite a liking to our misadventure, so he actually dropped us off right in front of the station, a special trip, with a warning to us to get on the correct train. Oh, wonderful busdriver, I am forever indebted to you!
I never thought that I would be so happy to see Norwich as I was after that trip. Steph and I treated ourselves to a wonderful Italian dinner at a restaurant in city centre, including an enormous ice cream sundae drenched in amaretto. Completely necessary. I didn't make it back to my flat until 11:30, when I did some reading and then fell into bed, only to be woken an hour later by screaming outside. Normally I can sleep through such outbursts, but this time someone was screaming my name. It took a few miinutes for my groggy brain to comprehend that Amy was under my window yelling for me, and that it was Alessio yelling, "She's ignoring you!" before breaking into Lady Gaga. There was no going back to sleep after that, especially when Alessio proceeded to run up and down the hallway shrieking, "Fire hazard! Fire hazard!" while throwing toilet paper everywhere. Oh flatmates, I love you.
On Tuesday I decided to get lost more locally, so I took my Norwich A to Z (pronounced zed here) and a walking route that I had gotten from the city website and wandered downtown Norwich. It was much more successful than the previous day's adventures!
The rest of the week was pretty quiet. Four of my flatmates went home for the weekend, and it was on the cold and rainy side. On Saturday morning we had our last walking tour as a giant, obnoxious group of 27 Dickinson humanities students. Professor Qualls assigned each of us a site in Norwich, so we had a lovely four-hour tour in the raw, wet weather. Huzzah! But I do love the city, and we did see some cool spots, including a street that was used in the movie Stardust. After our epic tour we all went back to Professor Qualls's house to have a wonderful lunch, and I ended up playing Apples to Apples with his son. It was an excellent way to spend a rainy Saturday afternoon!
So whereas it's been relatively quiet for me, it has been a fairly dramatic week in European politics. The coalition government in the UK announced huge budget cuts this week, combined with higher tuition fees and a rise in the pension age. As with all budget cuts, there's a lot of debate over who the cuts will affect the most. There haven't been the outward reactions in Britain that there have been in France (BBC News had an interesting editorial on the French strikes and the American way - ) because the Brits don't really seem to get riled up by much. They grumble and then carry on, although Nick Clegg, the Lib-Dem deputy prime minister, has spoken out over unlimited increases in tuition fees and welfare cuts, both of which are part of the budget cuts. What I don't understand is the inefficient way that the wellfare state is set up - it's not dependent on economics. As far as I can muddle it out, all families, no matter how wealthy they are, get money from the government for their children. Similarly, all people over a certain age receive a larger heating allowance than younger groups. This sounds nice, but it means that millionaires are receiving government support when they are perfectly capable of paying for their own heating. This makes no sense to me - I feel that it would make more sense to base services on income. I don't claim to have anywhere near a perfect understanding of the situation, however. We'll see what happens.
November has turned into travel month, so I should have many exciting adventures to report to you soon! And Happy Halloween!

"I'm Very Fond of Walking": Finding My Inner Elizabeth Bennet

We've been on two treks into the greater Norfolk area since the last time that I blogged, AND I've learned a lot more about the history of said area! Huzzah! I'll just orient you a bit: this area has been settled at least since the Bronze Age. During the Iron Age (ca. 800 B.C. to A.D. 43) it was inhabited by the Iceni tribe. When the Romans took over Britain in A.D. 43 (See? You knew that from my earlier blogs!), they pillaged Iceni lands, killed the Iceni chief, and tortured his queen and raped his daughters, so said queen, Boudicca, led an attack on Colchester and London. She was eventually executed, but not before kicking some serious ass. This tangent is brought to you by the letter B and the fact that archeologists think that the Iceni headquarters may have been where Norwich Castle is now.
Anyway, there was never actually a Roman settlement in Norwich, although there were people here. Then in 870 the Danes conquered East Anglia, but in 917 they were defeated by Edward the Elder (good title) and the area passed into West Saxon hands. Norfolk comes from the Saxon term meaning "North Folk" (ergo Suffolk = "South Folk"). Norwich began to grow as a city out of several smaller Saxon settlements, and it was becoming increasingly important for trade with the Low Countries. Norwich is kind of like Hartford - it was the farthest point inland that ships from the North Sea could sail, therefore it was a thriving hub of a place. The Danes, who were angry at losing East Anglia, conducted lots and lots of raids during this time, and their influence can be seen in the ship-burial at Sutton Hoo (where I'm going tomorrow!). They got their revenge in 1013 when the Danish king Sweyn conquered England from the Saxons, but he died immediately afterward. Sucks for him. His son Cnut took over, though, and England was under Danish rule until 1066 when the Normans came, invaded, and built lots of castles and churches, many of which are in Norwich! Norwich was actually really important during Norman and medieval times, and was the largest city in England after London. It was famous for its agriculture (lots and lots of rich wetlands) and its sheep, hence there was a thriving wool trade with the Low Countries. Eventually a number of Dutch weavers moved here, and Norwich became famous for textiles, a position that it held until textile production was mechanized and moved out of East Anglia during the Industrial Revolution. There are still a lot of sheep here, though. So there you are, your mini Norwich history lesson.
Besides reading about Norwich until my contacts fell out (you think I'm kidding - I'm not), I've also been frolicking about the countryside. And by frolicking I mean walking at a fairly leisurely pace, stopping to smell the proverbial roses frequently. Last weekend the Dickinson humanities group, under the fearless (and sometimes wayward) leadership of Karl Qualls, took a train to Sheringham, an adorable little town full to the brim with chocolate shops. It was once a popular Victorian beachside destination, although I can't really imagine the Victorians letting their hair down and frolicking in the waves, especially in the North Sea. That water is COLD!
But we enjoyed Sheringham, and several of us want to go back to eat at the Robin Hood pub (we think that it's named this because Sheringham = Sherwood + Nottingham. Yes, this is what we think about sometimes).
So we commenced our hike at the coast in Sheringham and walked through some beautiful countryside. I'm pretty sure that we passed throug Elf counry, and I found where I want to live someday (hint: little stone house with ivy crawling on it). We ended our country jaunt in Cromer, another coastal town, where I spent the afternoon exploring a used book store and dipped my hand into the North Sea. While eating ice cream. Not the best plan that I've ever had! It was a really great day, though.
This past weekend's destination was Ely, a small town in Cambridgeshire (I think). It's name literally means Island of the Eels, and before the Fens were drained it was an island in the wetlands, with lots of eels. They were used as currency for a time! Ely has a gorgeous Norman cathedral, as well as Oliver Cromwell's home, and it's a quintessential British town.
We were lucky enough to catch the apple festival while we were there, so we got to eat delicious apple goods on the town green in the shadow of the cathedral. There was hot cider, homemade apple turnovers, apple and pork burgers, homemade honey and applesauce, pies, everything apple you could imagine or want, plus flowers, crafts, and other festival-type things. Including a Renaissance band! Everytime there was music, I looked and saw a group of adorable elderly folk dancing and playing various instruments! It was the kind of day that I wish that I could have packaged up and sent home to share with everyone there, because it was so wonderful. There isn't really a way to describe it (also, I think that reading Wordsworth and Tennyson is getting to me.) But the real reason we were there: the Oliver Cromwell homestead was a bit silly, but the cathedral was beautiful.
It was founded as a monastery in 673 by the Saxon princess St. Etheldreda, but the current building was constructed in the 1080s as part of the Norman castle-cathedral building craze. It's gorgeous inside, and apparently it's one of the country's best examples of Norman architecture. My favorite part was the Prior's Door, which has maintained its original Norman carvings from 1135. Can we discuss how amazingly old this is?

After engaging in much apple-y deliciousness, we set out for Wicken Fen. I mentioned the Fens last time, but now I've a much better idea of what they are! Basically, they were marshlands and peatfields that stretched more or less throughout the whole of East Anglia. Peat was used for building and for heating, but after it started to run out the Fens were drained for agricultural purposes about three hundred years ago. Now they're full of reeds and sedge, which is harvested and used for thatch roofs. The wind blowing through all of the sedge sounds like the soundtrack to a horror film, so Sarah and I decided that it must be where Harry and Ginny were chased by Deatheaters behind the Burrow in the sixth Harry Potter movie. This obviously means that we were close to the Burrow, which was probably enchanted to look like a windmill. Yeah. We were able to climb up into an eighteenth-century sentry tower to get a view over Wicken Fen, which was beautiful.
I overuse that word, as well, but I don't use it insincerely.

I came to this country determined to find everything beautiful - I wanted that romantic, Masterpiece Theatre image of England. Little villages, rolling hills and fields, the whole nine yards. And I've gotten that, to some extent, but I've also learned to look beyond that. Because the truth is that that particular England doesn't really exist anymore. The villages are still there, and there are apple festivals with Renaissance bands playing by medieval churches, but the churches aren't used nearly as much anymore, and the little Tudor storefronts open to mobile phone stores and boutique shops rather than butchers, bakers, and candlestick makers. There has been at least one Starbucks everywhere that I've gone (except Stonehenge). England has changed - it has to, since it's a cosmpolitan, modern country. What I do like is that the romantic view that I was searching for can still be found - it can coexist with motorways and even with Starbucks. I think that this is possible because the Brits are clever enough to realize that this is what tourists want to see, but also because they really value their heritage, as well. Preserving historical sites is very important here, and I for one am glad.
So even though London wasn't what I expected, for instance, I am still managing to have the time of my life. I worked so hard to get here, and I am going to enjoy myself come hell or high water (this being the more likely of the two, as it rains all of the time). This means that I'm going to try to do as much as possible, and I am going to accept whatever comes my way and make the best of it. Since coming to England, I've changed, not just my view of the country. I've learned to be more patient with people and that a little bit of reaching out goes a long way. And I've also learned to always look on the bright side of life (or at least ninety percent of the time) and to have fun in unexpected places.
I came across a quote from E.M. Forster while reading Howard's End that I really liked: "Life is indeed dangerous, but not in the way morality would have us believe. It is indeed unmanageable, but the essence of it is not a battle. It is unmanageable because it is a romance, and its essence is romantic beauty."
I'm done being soul-searching now, and I won't try to give you any more history during this blog, I promise! (I switched from my introverted, thinking music to Journey, just to make sure.) To make up for it, here are some excellent British insults that I've picked up:
Chav – stands for “council-house associated vermin,” and describes someone whom we in the States would call trashy. Basically the cast of Jersey Shore. In Britain this means someone, usually a girl apparently, of the lower class, who wears track suits in public (a huge fashion faux pax over here), fake designer brands especially of the Ugg or Burberry variety, and bling, and who talks in “common” language, which means that they’re loud and say “like” a lot. (Don't worry, there's a separate stereotype for Americans who do this.)
Wanker – This is probably my favourite word, just because it’s fun to say. A wanker is an inconsiderate, sexist, really egotistical boy. A lot of football (soccer) players are considered wankers here. You can also use wank an adjective, as in, "That guy was totally wank." So go try those on your friends (or not-friends, which would make more sense...).

The Chronicles of Norwich: Freshers Week(s)

Contrary to what it may seem, I was not eaten by a mad sheep upon arrival in Norwich, I just haven't been updating my blog. But now it's Friday night and I've gone and caught a sniffle (Indiana Jones reference? anyone?), so instead of going out to the pub (because there is one on campus), my flatmate and I are getting ready for a night with ice cream and Pride and Prejudice. Fun fact: the British version of the movie doesn't end with the cheesy, un-Austen-like "Mrs. Darcy, Mrs. Darcy" business, because the test audience here thought that it was ridiculous. But you probably don't really care about that.
So yes, Norwich is excellent. I was honestly just so excited to leave London that any change would have been nice, but Norwich is absolutely adorable. We're talking cobblestone streets, winding backroads with corner pubs, a meandering river with arched bridges, Tudor-style buildings, and did I mention the castle in the middle of the city? (Really. It's just a giant stone cube as far as I can tell right now, but we're touring it later), green fields everywhere, sheep in said fields... It's everything that I hoped that England would be. I don't know nearly as much about Norwich as I do about London, so don't worry, but I can give you a really broad overview: before the Industrial Revolution, Norwich was one of the four largest cities in England. It was a very important center for the medieval wool trade, both because there were a lot of sheep here and because of its proximity to Amsterdam. Norwich is in Norfolk, which is in the eastern part of the country, and it was/is mostly wetlands. The wetlands were drained some years ago and became very rich agricultural ground, called the Fens. I'll be learning much more about this later - be excited. Today, apparently, Norfolk is kind of like West Virginia to the English. It's not so far north as to be considered completely redneck, but national lore says that people here are all inbred and so have webbed feet. I haven't seen any of this, but then again everyone has been wearing shoes. I've been waiting for a nice day to go into the city to take pictures, but there hasn't really been one of those yet. It rains all of the time! And supposedly this is the driest county in England. Awesome.
The University of East Anglia is built on the outskirts of town, so we have to take a bus to get into Norwich. The school (and you can't call it a college, because that means something different here. Teenagers have the option of going to a "college" during their last two years of high school in order to better prepare for their A-level exams. A-levels, as far as I understand them, are kind of like NEWTS. You have to have certain grades on your A-levels in order to be accepted to study that subject at a university. Once you pick your subject, you stay with it forever becuase your entire time at university is based on that subject. No such thing as a liberal arts education over here. My flatmate wanted to do literature, for instance, but her best A-level grades were in psychology, so that's what she's doing. I think that it sounds awful.) was built around the 1960s, so the buildings are all actually really ugly. I mean, really, really ugly. Absolutely nothing like quaint, medieval Oxford. Thankfully, the land is beautiful. There's a river right behind my dorm with more weeping willows than I ever imagined in one place, and sheep and horses grazing just on the other side. I've been going for lots of runs by said river and by the lake near the academic buildings, which is good, because I've also been eating lots of chocolate. Cadbury's is so much better over here!
Anyway, I live in University Village, which is the freshers living area on the outskirts of campus. We live in flats - I think that there are 26 in my building. My flat has six people in it, but for the first few days it was just international students. So basically, it was Dickinson people and a few Australians. And the crazy Italian kid in the flat across from mine. Can't forget him. We each have our own rooms with a teeny, tiny bathroom attached. The shower is literally 2 feet by 2 feet, and it's just a drain in the floor. They're affectionately known as "shoilets" because you could in fact use the toilet, wash your hair, and brush your teeth at the same time. So yes, it's tiny, but it's really nice to have my own space again. The one downside is that my window faces the courtyard, so I can hear all of the drunken conversations that happen below my window. Last night there were several Dickinsonians gossiping about other Dickinsonians,and one night I was woken up at three o'clock in the morning by someone playing guitar and singing "Little Lion Man" at obscene volumes. I was so confused that I thought it was Kyle, and had literally thrown on my coat and run half way down the hall before I realized that it was three a.m. in England and it would be a physical impossibility for him to be outside.
I really enjoyed having our first few days here without the freshers, because it allowed all of us international students to get to know each other a little bit first. I have an Australian flatmate, Laura, who is the coolest person ever. She spent the last three months traveling everywhere that you could imagine in Europe. So jealous. We would all head to the pub on campus at night, where they had international trivia, karaoke nights, and other fun/cheesy icebreakers. It was all very low pressure, and I met some really awesome people.
It was a bit overwhelming at first when our British flatmates moved in, but we've been having a really good time since then. We all get along really well, and it's been fun. We've been sharing various cultural elements (my great contribution has been A Very Potter Musical. Yay, America!) and trying out different accents and foods. I made Amy and Becca American pancakes one night, and I think that they fell in love. They've promised me an English breakfast in return. I've also gotten close to some Dickinson people whom I didn't know as well before, so it's been really great. I feel like I'm overusing that word. Too bad, 'tis the truth! The only downside of living with freshers is that they have almost no work to do--their first year at uni doesn't count toward their GPAs. Why? I don't know. But they only go to uni for three years, and all that they have to do their first year is pass, which, by the way, is a 40 percent. This seems incredibly silly to me, because they have absolutely no incentive to do work. So I'm over here writing a 12-page paper comparing commercial theatre in London and New York, and reading tomes of Romantic poetry for class, and my flatmates are going out every single night. Grrr. Ah well.
So the past two weeks have really involved getting back into the business of living, figuring out how to budget my own food (SO SICK of chicken. Oh my gosh. I got frozen shrimp today--big step), going to class and getting back into academic mode, meeting people, and joining societies, and all of that good stuff. I've joined the crew team on a whim, so I'll let you know how that turns out! Professor Qualls had all of us over for dinner our first night here, so we got to meet his family and have delicious food. After dinner, there was a miniature flea market to help us set up our flats--we each got to choose bedding, and then there was a lottery system to get cooking utinsels, lamps, and whatever else people have left over the years. I think it was great that he did that, although Jess, David, and I got some really weird looks walking back to campus hoisting comforters under our arms (or, for David, Superman style) and weilding frying pans. I got similar looks the first time that I spoke in my Condition of England Novel class (great class)--my instructor was apparently so stunned by my American accent that he literally stared at me for thirty seconds and then just moved on. Good start! But my flatmate assures me that people here think American accents are sexy, so I'll take his word for it (note: I don't think that this is why my lecturer was staring). I love this country!
Professor Qualls also took us to a football game in Norwich, which was hysterical. Norwich's club is nicknamed the Canaries, sure to strike fear into the hearts of all, but we beat Leicester City 4-3. It was actually a really good game, and I loved listening to the fans. I couldn't understand a thing that they were screaming, but one was to the tune of "Always Look on the Bright Side of Life." Oh, football hooligans.
I've also been to my first nightclub, which was...an adventure. I couldn't hear for the entire next day, but it was fun. My entire floor went and danced all night long, and I had a really good time. Apparently, the club that we went to is full of "chavs," however. I'm still unclear as to what a chav is, but I think that it's a guy who thinks that he's really cool but isn't. So basically a middle school boy, or a lot of frat bros. Regardless, I enjoyed myself, but I'm pretty sure that this is the reason that I'm sick now. Ah well.
My goals for Norwich have been a) to stay upbeat and positive, and not to worry about the little things, b) to try as many new things as I possibly can, and 3)to get better at meeting people and being more social, and so far all things seem to be going well! I've just been trying to take advantage of things as they come, whether I wanted them to or not, because I have literally been working for years for this opportunity. For instance, Laura, Amy (another flatmate), Jesse, and I booked tickets to Dublin spontaneously because Ryanair was offering roundtrip flights for fourteen pounds. Does it get better than this? I don't think so.
Tomorrow we're going on a hike along the Norfolk coast with the Dickinson group. I'm so excited, so hopefully I'll be feeling better. We're going to see the beach where the end of Shakespeare in Love was filmed, and, more importantly, I get to hike along the British coast! Phase one of Frolicking Through the English Countryside is a go. So yes, I'm having an absolutely amazing time, but I miss all of you and think of you often! Much love!