"You Win"

I can’t believe it’s been 3 weeks since I’ve written. The time has flown by and Thursday was the one-month marker of when I arrived in Wales.   I was thinking about that the other day and about how I’ve only got 4 more to be here.  It made me sad/desperate and (believe it or not) happy at the same time.  Sad because the time has gone be so fast. Desperate because a whole month has gone by and I feel like I haven’t done any of the things that wanted to.  I feel like I’ve wasted so much time, but this isn’t entirely true. Things just haven’t happened exactly how I imagined they would in my mind. And yes, I was sort of happy to see how fast the time is passing. I was very surprised and somewhat disappointed in myself when I finally admitted this to myself. But I’m not wishing myself somewhere else, and the only time that I get close to being homesick is on Sundays for some reason.

Three Sundays ago Mt. Pleasant had what they call “special Sunday.”  On these Sundays, the whole church eats all 3 meals at the church together and spends the whole day at the church.  I definitely enjoyed this because I was able to get to know students who go to the University, and I got 3 free meals. J

That whole week, it snowed! The first night was the best though.  The rest of the week the snow wasn’t enough to be of any use and was just enough to be annoying but still pretty. Monday night all the students in the village were out having separate little snowball fights.  After about an hour, a few guys got the entire student body who live in the Woodside flats (this is about half of the student village and the section that I live in) to come together in one big mob and gave orders to attack the student houses on the other side of the village. It was epic.  There were quite a lot of us and I was told that we were pretty scary looking when we first rounded the corner. The next day classes were canceled and again most people were out throwing snow at each other.  It didn’t matter if you knew the person or not. If you were outside, you were going to get hit.  Open windows, people building snowmen and people walking in and out of doors were also primary targets. I was sore for the next 3 days, but I’ve never had so much fun in the snow before.  A couple of nights later, I was sitting at my desk when a snowball smacked against my window. I nearly fell out of my chair. Thinking that it was a couple of guys I had met on Tuesday during the snow fight, I opened my window and called out to them. One of them answered but wouldn’t come out from behind the car they were crouching behind.  I took this as an open challenge. I had my coat on and was out the door before the guys behind the car knew what was happening. They took off and hid behind some bushes where they continued to hurl snowballs at me. I had the advantage because I had access to the snow on the cars and pretty soon they had to give up. The whole time, I was talking to them and calling their names out, but I never saw their faces. Finally, they came out. “You win!” they said. But something was terribly wrong. Tidal waves of embarrassment and shame swept over me. I didn’t know these guys. What could I do? My gut instinct told me to throw more snow in their faces and run away before they got a good look at me. Looking back now, I wish I had. But no. I introduced myself, shook both their hands and carried on small talk for another 3 minutes. They seemed a bit dazed and I can see why. They had gotten more than they bargained for when they hit my window. Because of course, they were just hitting random windows never thinking about the impulsive natures that might govern the lives of the people inside. As they walked away, I noticed that one of them had half a snowball stuck to the back of his head. They didn’t lie . . . I had won.  Shame turned to pride almost instantly, but a healthy amount of embarrassment still hovers over me.

On Saturday of that week, I went to Mumbles with three other girls (Heidi Richards, Siusan Buie and Britny West). Mumbles is on the other side of the bay and about 25 minutes away by bus.  It has no historical importance that I know of. It’s just a very pretty little town at the beginning of the Gower.  The Gower is a beautiful stretch of coastline complete with caves and ruins of castles that I have yet to explore.  The most memorable event of the day was probably eating at Joe’s.  Joe serves ice cream. I can’t decide if I’m happy about discovering Joe’s or not… it will be very hard to go back to any other ice cream after this. Joe’s is only found in the Swansea area. His ice cream is by far the best I’ve ever tasted, excepting my grandmother’s custard of course. It’s better than Bop’s, Marble Slab, Cold Stone and even Ben & Jerry’s. I know it’s hard to believe, so if you don’t believe me then I won’t hold it against you. It’s ok. You’re not no account; you’re just ignorant. ß (That is a quote from the Andy Griffith Show, so if it didn’t make any sense, just ask any of my family, Davis Morgan or Bryant Hawkins. I’m sure they’d be happy to explain.)  On Sunday night, I hung out with the British students who go to Mt. Pleasant.  They taught me how to do the Oky-Koky, which is their version of the Hoky-Poky. And because they are British, they of course think that their way is the right way. J

Last Wednesday, I finally went to play Frisbee with the University club team.  They were having a practice. Just for the record, this is only the second time I’ve actually practiced Frisbee. I think it’s a little strange to do Frisbee drills and such but whatever. I was desperate to play.  I was glad when we finally played a game, but I was severely handicapped. The field we played on was little more than a massive mud puddle. Everyone was wearing cleats except for me. All I had were my running shoes.  No cleats = no traction. Therefore, I fell down a lot and ran into people who could stop quicker than I could.

Now for some information that I’m sure you will find extremely amusing. I’m learning a variation of a traditional Irish dance. It’s along the same lines as the Lord of the Dance. Look it up on YouTube. It won’t have the fancy footwork that the dancers in these clips can do, but it’s to the same kind of music and we are dancing in pairs.  There are no guys in the class with us so I have to be one of the gents since I’m taller than most of the girls there.  And here’s the best part:  we are going to be putting on a show with the other dance clubs some time in April! Haha- You know those clips you’ve seen with the girls in black tights and black skirts skipping and prancing around… that’s going to be us! Oh and each pair is going to have matching capes that the instructor will make. We’re going to look legit! Heidi and Suisan are doing this with me. They’re the reason that I’m even doing this at all, but I’m excited about it. I’ve always loved Irish dancing, and when am I ever going to have this opportunity again? I’ll make sure that I take loads of pictures of this so that you all won’t just have to imagine what I will look like. Although, I’m sure that the mental pictures you are seeing right now would work just as well and are probably more comical. J

 

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

First Few Days

Everything went incredibly well considering how scatter-brained I am.  After I made it to the Chicago airport around 2, I had a 6 hour lay over, so I sat in the terminal and watched the interesting people walking by. I also watched CNN drool all over themselves while covering the inauguration.  At 8:00, we boarded the British Airways plane. It was a 8 hour flight, and I think I slept 2 or 3 hours of it.  I asked loads of dumb questions and looked like a deer in the headlights. Made it through customs without a problem... actually, no one was there to check my bags. It made me feel like I had somehow skipped that step completely.  Anyways, I made it to London Paddington train station without too much trouble. When I got there I needed to go to the bathroom. By this time I was feeling pretty confident and sure of myself. I had successfully made it this far and I soon found the desired bathroom. I rounded the corner only to find that the my destination was down a flight of stairs. So, I took a deep breath and headed down the stairs rolling both of my bags behind me. Each step I took brought the loud clunking noise of the wheels on the suit cases crashing down on the stairs behind me. "I'll never see these people again. Just don't make eye contact." I don't remember how I made it back out of there and I'd rather not think about it.  Thankfully, the train ride to Swansea was uneventful. I slept a little, but I didn't want to miss anything that we were passing so I kept waking up. I got to Swansea around 3:00, and Sarah Davies picked me up 45 minutes later.  She brought her two kids Ben (3) and Anna (2) with her. Then she took me to the Student Village where I'm living and, I dropped off my stuff in my room. I ate dinner with Sarah and Dan (Sarah's husband) that night. The next morning Sarah took me to Tesco and the Swansea Market.  Tesco is a smaller version of Walmart with fewer choices and less stuff. The Market was really fun. It is inside a building with a tall ceiling. People set up booths to sell their merchandise. They sell fresh meat, fish, bread and pastries, fruits, and vegetables as well as purses, scarves, coats, books, and lots of other things.  I bought my adapter there, but I thought it was the wrong thing. I wasn't able to get on my computer because the charge on my battery had run out. I took it back today along with my computer charger only to discover that I had had the correct one all along! Thursday night, I went to Woody's with two girls (Abby and Sarah) that I had met earlier that day. Woody's is the bar in the Student Village. It didn't really seem like a bar. I would probably describe it as a coffee shop that served beer instead of coffee and that played techno dance music instead of the easy-listening, mood-music that is played in our coffee shops.  So, I guess it's nothing like a coffee shop really. Yesterday (Friday), all the American students had orientation. I'm only going to have 3 classes, but those classes will have tutorials and seminars that meet at different times and assign homework as well. That took up most of the day and I was dead tired afterwards.  When I got back to my room, I finally comprehended the implications of the term "self-catered." (Does that make sense?) It was all up to me. What was I going to do? I made two pieces of toast and went to bed. Today, I scrambled 2 eggs for myself and felt a certain sense of pride as I ate them. Later, I walked to campus from my flat with 3 other girls (Abby, Sarah and Kim). It took us 50 minutes but we made it. Tonight, I made 3 cute, little hamburgers from the ground beef I bought on Thursday. I also peeled two carrots with a knife because there was nothing else to peel it with. Now, I have 2 happy hamburgers in the fridge waiting for me to come back to them. Once again, that sense of barely contained pride at my success welled up inside, nearly choking me. I haven't been homesick yet. There's just too much to see and think about. The closest I've come to being homesick was when I found out about sweet little Margaret McKinney! I couldn't help crying and wishing myself back in Hattiesburg.