Now, about that sanity.....

A love/hate relationship

robbiewolf — Wed, 01 Dec 2010 07:17:32 +0000

Well, I can be called many things, and lazy is definitely one of them when it comes to writing. I find it hard to sit down and focus on the words. I’ve been doing a writing course as part of my studies here and, while the primary focus was on essay writing, there was also a large creative writing component. Surprisingly, I’ve actually been enjoying it, although sentences such as “you’ll look on that dash with awe” remind me why I don’t like arts courses. But it has certainly taught me a lot about writing, and about why I’m so reluctant to write.

I think my laziness is mostly due to the fact I don’t think I can ever quite say what I mean. Verbal diarrhoea isn’t an option because the meaning gets lost, but being too concise has the same effect. Especially when writing about something as complicated as living abroad, it becomes a daunting task to put pen to paper (so to speak) and compose coherent and eloquent sentences.

Living here is a bit of a love/hate relationship. Love the people, love my surroundings, hate the academics and the style of the university. For most people over here, it’s much the same. Life would be great if we didn’t have that pesky work. Especially as here, they don’t really differentiate between school and university. They call it college, the lecturers are teachers, the lectures are classes, there’s homework and you get marks for attending class.

What the hell? Am I 16 again? Nothing about this system treats you as an adult. Especially in the lower level courses I’m taking, I may as well be back in school for all the difference there is. My italian class is so bad I’ve been counting down the classes I have left (one, an oral exam and a final). Oh, and when they warned us about academic differences they didn’t mention that students here are major league suck-ups.

If someone back home tried this shit in a lecture, they’d get shouted down, taken behind the sheds and shot. But here, fawning is encouraged and even required as exams aren’t blind marked. Getting good grades, good research placements and favourable recommendations requires laughing at bad jokes and pretending to like lecturers. Takes some getting used to, that’s for sure.

Americans also have some “interesting” ideas about pastoral care. UCSC has some fucking weird rules, like if someone under 21 is in an apartment no-one can be drinking or even have alcohol in the fridge. Guess how often that gets broken? Took me three weeks to fall foul of campus security and get on housing warning. Since then I’ve been getting a lot of practice at hiding under the bathroom sink if the CSO’s come knocking.

The sheer enormity of the differences between home and here is overwhelming sometimes. Everyone’s mood has been switching on a dime and long periods of depression aren’t uncommon. Days will go by and someone will emerge from their room asking what they missed. Hell, I’m trying to dig myself out of yet another one at the moment. It’s rough, and when combined with the homesickness a flight home can seem incredibly attractive.

But then I look out of my window onto the redwood forest, remember that last year I looked out onto a disused construction site and everything seems a little less grim. Walking across this campus is amazing, even after 10 weeks I’m still stunned by how beautiful it is. Three times a week, as I pass through the arts-media complex in the middle of campus, I see the most amazing view out over the Monterey bay. On the worst of the worst days, that view still brings a smile to my face.

The people are amazing. Not in general, but the people who live in my residence for sure. My hall is half American and half international, so in my flat there’s a French guy and two Americans. There are a lot of very intelligent, cultured and sparky people here, who I’m glad to spend my days with. But Americans as a people, that’s different. I have never before encountered such a high level of ignorance, indifference and stupidity as I have here.

One night, soon after I got to Santa Cruz, I was in a bar ordering a drink and the guy behind me overheard my accent. “Where are you from?” he asks, so I tell him I’m from the UK. His reply? “You speak English over there?”. That’s not even an uncommon experience. There is such an American bubble, such a sense of entitlement and greatness that relatively few Americans move beyond their borders and learn about the world, or even their own country. Only 27% of Americans even own a passport and some of the Americans I meet in lectures don’t even have any concept of geography beyond California.

I am happy here, at times. Right now, I’m going through a rough patch. It’s similar to when I was in Canada, the first few months are the roughest. I’m better than I was, but it’s still hard. But it’ll get better soon, hard as it is for me to believe right now. I know it. I just wish soon was now.

A few days in San Francisco

robbiewolf — Thu, 16 Sep 2010 23:31:07 +0000

Well, there’s so much to say I’m not quite sure where to start. San Francisco really is a phenomenal city. I love it. Don’t think I’d want to live here, but it’s a brilliant place. Over the past few days I’ve done all the major tourist things, and several that are most definitely not in the tourist guides.

I’m staying at the Green Tortoise hostel, which is in the middle of the red light district and sandwiched between Chinatown and Little Italy (oh the hardship). It’s an awesome hostel, not the nicest building ever but a really good vibe and a very interesting bunch of people. It took me a while to get back into the swing of hostels, but now I’m really enjoying it again. I’ve met so many people and had so many experiences that it’d be impossible to give more than a brief overview so I’ll give a few of the highlights:

Bar crawl with the nazi-esque leader and the “German invasion”
Yerba Buena gardens (more later)
Golden gate park (getting lost, and accidentally stumbling across the Californian Academy of Sciences)
Exploring Paridisio with Vignon
Free keg, crazy dutch people, and the ensuing mayhem
The hippies in Buena Vista park (definitely not for the tourists)
Hiking the Golden Gate bridge, Sausalito and the $8 pint (not happy, but needed beer more than money after a 10 mile hike)
Free day at aforementioned Academy
Telegraph hill and views over San Francisco
Many crazy crazy people

I think my absolute favourite place in San Francisco has to be the Yerba Buena Gardens. Just off Market Street (downtown San Francisco), hidden among the skyscrapers is this gem. A grassy area, a waterfall fountain, beautiful trees and fragrant plants. I’ve been there almost every day now, and twice I’ve ending up enjoying a free concert. On Saturday I met up with a mate from Manchester at university at UC Berkley and we wandered into Yerba Buena to find this Latin Jazz band playing their heart out to a fairly large crowd. Nothing else has felt quite so American as that, basking in the midday Californian sunshine sitting on the grass, letting the music and the atmosphere wash over me while surrounded by this bustling city.

Sweet

That jet lagged feeling

robbiewolf — Fri, 10 Sep 2010 02:50:27 +0000

There’s no need for alcohol to get spaced out, just fly across several time zones. Right now it’s about 8pm in San Francisco, but my body clock has me at about 4am tomorrow morning. I’m at 22 hours without sleep now and I’m sure I’ve scared my roommates at the hostel. Anyway, I’ve arrived safe and sound, with a couple of misadventures and an epic hobo along the way. More when I can think straight.

London

robbiewolf — Sat, 28 Aug 2010 22:23:33 +0000

Perhaps the best way to start is by describing the place I call home, London. I’ve never been anywhere else like it. I get off the train from university and by the time I’ve moved out of the station concourse onto the road, I can feel that welcome that only London can give. The wall of noise, the hustle and bustle and, underlying everything, a sense of vibrancy and vitality that seems affect everyone, whether they notice or not.

As a north weezy kid (North West London to non-locals), the rest of the city is like enemy territory. Venturing across the river to south London feels, well, like entering a different county. Different language, different culture, different vibe. But then you can often get that by walking over to the next area. It’s a universal thing though; sauff Londoners feel the north is some kind of rich snobs enclave (It’s really not, trust me).

The city as a whole is hard to describe. It always feels like a city in motion, truly a 24 hour city. Even at four in the morning, there’s a quiet hum of noise as the cleaners and delivery trucks prepare London for the next onslaught. It’s so damn big though, people who’ve lived here their whole lives still can’t describe more than a fraction. Every area has it’s own groove, mostly dictated by whichever groups live there.

Spend more than 30 seconds here and you can’t help but notice how mixed the city is. Central London aside (tourist central doesn’t count), it’s not uncommon to see a flag wearing Rusta standing aside to let an old Hindu woman walk past while the local drunks at the Irish pub quietly watch the city flow by. Walking down one high street near me; I can buy Polish, Indian, Afghan, Greek, Turkish and Spanish groceries. Every wave of immigration brings something new to the city, and London always assimilates.

Finally, I want to mention the 7/7 bombings. Not for the act itself, but for the reaction. We had this tragedy occur in our midst, a terrorist attack on our public transport. Yet after the bombings, the vast majority of Londoners individually decided that it didn’t matter; that this has happened, ok, but I’m not going to let this affect me. And collectively, London gave the finger to the bombers. Our government panicked more than we did; while they pontificated and hastily drafted laws, London got on with it’s collective business. And that, as someone who loves London, speaks more about the city than anything else.

An Open Mind

robbiewolf — Mon, 23 Aug 2010 23:45:52 +0000

I’ve been informed that I have an outmoded idea of privacy. Apparently, wanting a private life isn’t the done thing any more, so to speak and as it were. To avoid starting yet another argument with my erudite if erroneous friend, I shall simply say that each of us has a choice when it comes to privacy, and mine is to keep it. Using this here space as a “private” diary has been a long running and most definitely failed experiment. If people want to know what’s going on in my life, they can do the old-fashioned things like email or, heaven forbid, phone.

Anyway, the old posts are gone and the site has had a revamp. Given my imminent departure from these oh so sunny shores, this site is going to become a travel diary, documenting my travels and travails as I make my way around the world. In a little over two weeks, I’m starting what is one of the most daunting adventures I’ve ever contemplated. What began as one of my crazy ideas has grown beyond my wildest expectations to become a serious plan. I’m off to California for a years academic exchange at the University of California at Santa Cruz (hereafter and forever more referred to as UCSC for obvious reasons). After UCSC, onwards to Australia, New Zealand and then Hong Kong before returning home sometime next August.

Unlike Canada, I have a place to live, money and two fully fledged support systems behind me before I even arrive. I don’t even have to find a job, lectures being provided as part of the package. Oh the luxuries. Having survived the application process, my encounter with US customs and immigration and my 2nd year exams, I have to say I’m pretty excited. And scared. But not bowel loosening scared, more a natural fear of the unknown.

Obviously, I have no idea what to expect. From previous experience, the best laid plans go horribly, horribly awry, so this time I’m trying not making many. A few months ago, I wrote an informal essay for a travel scholarship. The task was to write 250 words on five things you wouldn’t study abroad without. Sitting here over the last few days, finally staring down the barrel at this, thing, that has been a year in the planning, I’ve been minded of the final thing I would never study abroad without:

5) An open mind

Having an idea of what you want from an exchange helps you to find activities you’ll appreciate. However, having an open mind leads to a world of unexpected possibilities, like a chance conversation in a café that ends up in a 200 mile road trip to find the best new ski resort in the country.