First Full Week

   

    Well, I've made it through my first week here. Every day gets a little better as I figure out how to schedule my time and navigate this Welsh city.  

On Sunday, Sarah Davies picked me up from my flat and took me to church at Mount Pleasant with her.  Mt. Pleasant is a Baptist church and the pastor there is Steve Levy. He is extremely friendly and possesses a deep booming voice and lovely Welsh accent that I find interesting to listen too.  Everyone I met were welcoming and curious about the new American.  They especially liked to hear me talk and thought it was the coolest thing ever that I was from Mississippi! I couldn't help laughing a bit at the excited respond that I received when I told them I was from MS. The church service was very good, and the singing was like nothing I've ever experienced in an American church. Their voices seemed to start somewhere deep down inside before they came soaring out of their mouths.  I've never heard people singing so wholeheartedly before, the he men especially. Proof that men can sing and still be manly. Another thing that impressed me about these Christians was the sense of urgency that affects everything that they do in church.  The way they pray, sing, read and talk about the Bible and even how they fellowship with each other is all done with such intensity. I think this is due to the society that they live in.  Britain is a very anti-Christian, anti-church nation. It's very different from the South where people get a little pat on the back for going to church or where "everyone" is a Christian unless they prove otherwise.  I don't think you would find many people here who go to church once a month or whenever they feel like it.  I could be wrong but that's the impression I got in the first week.  After church, I ate lunch with Dan and Sarah and and another girl (Anna) who also goes to the University also.  After lunch I was asked if I would like tea, coffee or squash.  I thought, "Squash?! What was that nasty vegetable doing among such wonderful refreshments?" Turns out Squash is a mixed-fruit drink (orange and maybe lemon, I don't know) that is served heated. It was very good. I spent all afternoon with them and that night went back to church with them.  This time around, the people who hadn't made it over to meet me that morning came to meet me and listen to me talk. I had quite an audience surrounding me and hanging on every word that I uttered, not because I was saying anything particularly interesting (sadly) but because they liked my accent. I don't think I've ever done so little to deserve so much attention! Unless you count all of the congratulations that I've received on becoming an aunt. :)  But I have to admit that I can't help really liking all this attention.  I could get used to this.  At some point during the evening, someone dubbed me American Molly. I think this is a generic nickname for all Americans who come through their church.  They had an American Dave last year, and Stephen was named "American Steve" while he was in Keele. This nickname morphed into Molly from Mississippi, which has since been shortened (I think) to Mississippi Molly. 

Monday, classes started. I decided I would try walking to campus just to see if I would be able to do it the rest of the term. As soon as I got out of my first class, I headed straight to the travel office and bought the bus pass.  It's been worth it too.  I have one 2 hour class (Society and Learning in Medieval Europe) at 3:00 on Mondays. I thought I knew where the class was, but obviously not. I followed the signs to class room K.  I found A through J but no K.  K was on the next floor down. Went down the stairs, through a couple sets of doors, walked down a hallway and found L and M. Where was K? The time when I should have been seated at a desk had come and gone by now. I retraced my steps looking for that dern K. I must have walk past it 2 or 3 times at least before I finally saw it.  And let me just say, the sign was not in an obvious place like the ones for L and M. From the direction I was coming, it wasn't in my line of vision. I would have had to turn completely around to see it. Of course, I should have seen it the first time I retraced my steps, but oh well. 

Tuesday, I had a 1 hour class (Intro to American Literature and Culture-- go ahead and laugh) and a 2 1/2 hour class (Childhood Across Time and Culture). Not much to tell about these except that I was late for the American Studies class too.   

Wednesday, I had another one hour session of American Lit. And now I'm done with class till Monday! I hardly know what to do with myself. It's like having a holiday every week... but I'm not the luckiest here.  I met someone Thursday night who only has 2 classes on Tuesday. So, if you're mad/frustrated/jealous that I have such an easy schedule, just remember that this guy has a much easier deal.  Try to reroute some of those negative feelings toward this unknown.

Thursday night, the school put on a fiesta for all the international students in the campus club called DV8.  The people I was with all ordered beers while I stood back and tried to see what they were getting.  I was completely lost. I have a hard enough time making up my mind about what drink to get at Sonic!  Here, my decision anxiety was multiplied. I ended up finding my roommate from last semester, Britny West, and she suggested something that wasn't very strong.  The rest of the night was pretty fun considering that not many people (that I know of) where getting drunk. I think most of them had been out the night before and were determined not to let themselves go like that again or at least not for another day or two.  The night before, one American had been in a fist fight and had a bottle broken over his head. I didn't see this; I just heard about it. He wouldn't drink anything but coke on Thursday night.

The drinking culture here is even more rampant than I expected. I knew that it was big but I had no context for understanding how crazy it really is. It's like clubbing and getting drunk are what they think about all the time. On the bus rides to campus in the mornings, there are at least 2 or 3 separate conversations that go like this...

"Did you have a good time last night?"

"Yeah, I did. Man, I was so trashed. I stopped counting after my 15th."

"You should have seen yourself...."

Of course, that's the cleaned up version, but they keep talking about it till we arrive on campus.  Last night some of the guys I was sitting with were talking about how much damage they've done to their livers since they got here or how much they've spent in the past two weeks or about how their tolerance has doubled already. Bravo! Congratulations! They talk about it as if it's some kind of achievement, which no doubt it is rather mind-blowing. But really who cares? The audience to which they are relating their great success sure don't. The audience are too preoccupied with finding a way to one-up the guy who's talking to give him the respect and applause he is asking for. All this constant drivel frustrates and angers me, but it also makes me appreciate my Christian friends and family here and back in the states.  

Ok, I didn't realized I had so much to say. Sorry, It's gone on for so long, but it helps to write my frustrations out. I hope ya'll enjoy it and tell me if some of this doesn't make sense.  I wrote most of it late last night. (1/30/09)

Cheers,

Mississippi Molly