She's overseas--Article for SCAN

Heather Simons
16 October, 2006
h.simons@lancaster.ac.uk


I was in London for a month this September. I stayed in Chelsea, no less, which is simultaneously a terrible and a brilliant place for an American student. Terrible because the currency exchange rate immediately cut in half the savings I spent three months working for, and brilliant because Chelsea is one of the wealthiest, and therefore nicest, suburbs (are they called suburbs here?) in the city. With its fancy stores and Starbucks on every corner, King’s Road treated me well, though I did begin to wonder if I would ever make it out of London with a penny to my name.
For four weeks I subsisted on peanut butter and jelly and cans of soup, rejoicing whenever I could afford to add a bit of meat to my diet. I bought one-ply toilet paper and bread for 28p that had an odd chewy texture and tasted like cardboard. Brand name cereal or shampoo was absolutely out of the question. I did, however, splurge on a jar of Nutella, and this I slathered on everything, chewy bread in particular.
To live in Chelsea, even for a month, required some sacrifice, but I surrendered such small luxuries willingly. Although I had never once left America (besides the time when I was fifteen and my dad took me to Jamaica where I spent a week bartering for shoddy souvenirs and refusing drug offers), London felt curiously like home.
Back in the States I attend university (we call it a college) in the small town of Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, consecrated site of some of the bloodiest battles of the Civil War. Gettysburg is home to many ‘majestic’ battlefields, a slew of ghosts, and not just a few Civil War fanatics. It is not at all unusual to wake up in the morning to the drum beat of a brigade of Confederate Soldiers marching down the sidewalk, rifles resting on their shoulders. I once ate dinner next to a Civil War era family, mom sporting a giant hoop skirt and bonnet, dad and son in knickers and suspenders, all three scarfing down a pizza while their pick-up truck plastered with American flags waited outside. (This never actually happened, but it definitely could in Gettysburg, PA.)
Clearly, Gettysburg is a far cry from London. But I didn’t always go to school in such a quiet, historical town. I spent my first year of university on the other side of the state, in the smoggy city of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. Though the University of Pittsburgh was located in a more cultural, centralized area, it was also an utterly vast and impersonal campus. Every night I fell asleep, or didn’t, to the sound of ambulances whizzing by on the street below and the deafening roar of helicopters landing on the roof of the nearby children’s hospital. I decided the city was not where I wanted to spend four years, so I transferred and joined the ranks in Gettysburg for my second year at university. And now I am here. It’s hard for me to claim a home when I’m at school, what with all of the moving around I’ve done. But for whatever reason, London comforted me, and now, in Lancaster, a five hours’ drive north, I feel the same way. It must be England.
Since I’ve had the opportunity to settle in here at Lancaster, I’ve noticed some changes in myself. Quite suddenly I developed a craving for chips, and I call them chips because the fries here are not the French fries offered in America. They’re simply chips, and they are far better than anything I have sampled at home. I rarely even eat fries in America. In fact, I never do, because they’re no good. But here, they are a part of life. And what a tasty, salt and vinegar smothered life it is.
While I’m on the topic of food, I have to mention digestives, which I discovered within the first few days of arrival. My initial reaction upon hearing a sort of dessert referred to as a ‘digestive’ was a mixture of curiosity and repulsion. Granted, I realize the name was probably chosen in reference to the biscuits’ relatively high fiber content, but honestly, couldn’t McVities have come up with a more appealing moniker? Regardless, I bought a pack, and thus my addiction began. My British flat mates, who have been lucky enough to eat digestives since birth and, I think, take them for granted, have branded me an addict. I prefer the term ‘enthusiast.’ And I’m not the only American who feels this way. More international students are discovering digestives daily. Already I’ve discussed at length with other Americans how we can sneak some back to the States in our suitcases.
On another topic, the porters here are fabulous. Having a familiar point of reference at every college, 24 hours a day is truly unique. At Gettysburg we have Resident Assistants, which are just slightly older students who accept the position of pseudo-authority for the free room and board and the large single dorm room (the single-style living here in England is a phenomenon—in America they stuff us into cinder-block cells in twos and threes like caged animals). To be truthful, I’ve developed a bit of a crush on my friendly porter (do you think he reads the newspaper?). We bonded the day he kindly walked me to the storage room and let me shop for perfectly useful pots and pans left by former international students. What a gentleman.
In terms of academics, the independent study here is quite a change. In America we are constantly being tested on our knowledge through large exams and smaller quizzes and receive paper assignments weekly for every course. You’d think the British mode of learning would be a relief, but it’s actually just as overwhelming—for a conscientious student, that is. Otherwise, slacking off has never been a more viable option. But seriously, British students are very fortunate when it comes to education and its accessibility here. For instance, every time I tell British students the price I pay for my college tuition, their eyes bulge in disbelief and it typically takes a few minutes before they stop cursing and calm down.
I could go on about how delighted I was when I found that tea time actually occurs here, or how shocked I was when I looked at the Fresher’s Week schedule and realized that every school-sponsored event involved alcohol and how impressed I was when I noted just how well the 18-year-olds here can hold their alcohol, at least compared to Americans of the same age. Also, I was stunned to find that clubs and bars here play indie rock music, and girls and guys (!) actually dance, and like they’re straight out of the eighties. It’s pretty much a dream come true when you compare it with the simulated sex that occurs on American ‘dance floors’, which are really just seas of sweaty, unfamiliar bodies shimmying far too close for comfort. I didn’t know such dance party havens existed in the world.
But I won’t go on forever, because I’m sure I’m just repeating what’s been heard before, and I would hope that all of the native Brits here at Lancaster University already appreciate the fabulous and unique aspects of their diverse country. The point is that studying abroad in England is the best thing I have ever chosen to do with my life. I know that last sentence sounded tired and clichéd, but it’s true in so many ways that I couldn’t possibly articulate in one article. When I boarded the plane to come to England, all I could think was, ‘I’m completely crazy’ and ‘What the hell am I doing?’ But I made it to London, and I’ve made it to Lancaster, and I haven’t looked back once. In fact, I’ve been living completely in the present and enjoying every moment, which is something that I can’t even say when I’m back home in America. And yet, I’ve gained a new appreciation for the U.S. since I’ve been here. Naturally, it has its flaws, but it truly is a beautiful place which holds foundations in honorable philosophies of equality and decency. And it’s where my family calls home.
So, when I take that flight back to the airport in Newark, New Jersey on December 16th, I’ll step off the plane and throw myself into the arms of the people I love, because I have missed them terribly. But later, in the car, on the way home, I’ll think of my experiences over the past four months—the people I’ve met, the things I’ve done and seen and learned about myself and the world—and I’ll solidify the place in my heart I’ve already begun to develop, the little place within me that England will forever occupy.