I accidentally deleted all my study abroad posts. Working on fixing that.
In the mean time, may I direct your attention to the pictures pages?
Slice of life, Museum reviews, and my experiences abroad.
Thursday, April 5, 2012
Friday, January 6, 2012
The University of Glasgow Spring 2012. Prologue ( It is very long).
I don't necessarily buy into omens. But if I did, most of the trip to Scotland was full of omens screaming, "Turn Back Now!".
1st January: Wake at 4am. My connecting flight was cancelled. So my mother and I had to wait in line as two full flights were ushered past us to be helped first. When I was helped, the earliest arrival date was 4th January. My orientation began on the 3rd. I called the continental airlines customer service, and was told again that the earliest time of arrival would be 4th January. By this time there was no one waiting for assistance at the desk, so I returned, this time to a different person. Mom started freaking out and she was ready to chew this agent to shreds. I could tell, because I've become acutely aware of the warning signs of "you are in trouble" from mom over the years. I got mom to calm down and calmly dealt with the agent, explaining my problem. Miraculously she was able to book me a flight that would arrive in the morning of the 3rd! Which departed later on January 1st and contained a series of terribly long layovers and red-eye flights.
Mom and I returned home for a few hours and had lunch with my older brother Erik at a Panda Express. The servings were so large I almost believed I wouldn't have to buy airport food because I'd eaten so much. Alas, this was not the case. We returned a bit later to the airport, assured that security would be really full and should arrive early. It was surprisingly quick, which meant I got to spend a lot of time sitting at my gate and looking at the half-ruins of the old airport restaurant from the window. After I sketched it and got frustrated, I set my teeth to finish Patrick Rothfuss' "The Name of the Wind". It is a solid two inches and a good challenge to boredom.
I sketched some more at the LA airport as I waited for my next flight. It was difficult to locate drinking fountains, and my computer power cord refused to work at any of the outlets I came across- the wires were severely frayed. I found a Ruby's "dinette" and decided to eat something. The vegetarian options did not have protein, so I opted for a clam chowder bread bowl, advertised with bacon. I heard last year that most "bacon bits" are not actually real meat anyways, in fact a vegan product! ( I have no idea if this is true, but it got me to order the bread bowl). It was quite delicious and I couldn't taste any bacon in it at all. After this I got a hazelnut iced coffee at the Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf, which I was sure I would miss in Scotland. Thus armed, I set to read some more. After a little bit I looked at the clock, sure I'd spent at least two hours this way. I was saddened to see only half an hour had passed. After this I attempted to time my self reading and come up with a page-per hour rate. I was disappointed when my calculations showed that I could read a whopping 62 pages per hour. I had expected much more. I grazed the booksellers, looking for something that would help induce a faster reading speed and came across a funny little red book called, I think, "the Guide to being Snarky", which featured a series of quotations dripping with sarcasm. I figured I would find it in other airport bookstores and finish reading it later. I did not find it again, unfortunately. I whiled away the hours by thinking of how to reach the Arcadia orientation from the Glasgow airport, writing down odd thoughts, and making lists of things I'd need to buy during the times when I couldn't force myself to read anymore of " The Name of the Wind".
Cleveland. 2nd January after the red-eye, I walked into the terminal, excited at the prospect of having to wander all over to find my next gate. Unfortunately, it was directly across from my entry point, not fifteen steps away. I was quickly bored an walked to sit in gate C4 merely because it reminded me of explosives. It was empty, and unlike the gate I was supposed to wait at for a good part of the day, I could only hear one terrible radio station, rather than two playing over each other. I could not get any sleep on the flight and was very tired, but worried about sleeping too long and missing my next flight. There was nothing I could see out the windows of any interest, so I didn't sketch anything. I looked for a place with free internet so I could check my e-mail, like a starbucks or something, but found instead a crowd of people ( at 7am, mind you) in front of the Gelato place. I also came across a very large "crocs" store, a Museum of Rock gift shop, something titled, "Cheeburger cheeburger", many phone accessories but no power cords for laptops, a sale rack of jackets at the "low" price of 110$, and all of these horrors were accompanied by alternating green and red lights from the ceiling, and the strains of Cyndi Lauper and what seemed to be an assortment of failed impersonators. Where there weren't green and red lights, my socks glowed like in ultra-violet light. I tried really hard not to think about the health effects. It was difficult to find any clocks, and my hands at this point had begun to blister from hauling my heavy carry-on. I was determined to take a nap. I succeeded for a total of 15 minutes. I went to the gelato place to see what the fuss was about and got a cliff bar and apple juice for less than the price of the least expensive gelato. I found internet, but without a means of powering my computer, I was online briefly- just enough to get directions as to how I could get to my orientation location from the Glasgow airport. My ticket did not register for the next flight, but I managed to get on, and slept for a bit.
Newark. Pros: no music, no scary lights. Cons: Shops. Everywhere. It was like a huge mall with airport on the side. I waited at my gate for a while, could not access internet, and decided to change some of my money into pounds. The exchange station had a huge line, of course, so I indulged in sushi and egg foo young at "Wok and Roll". I was a bit embarrassed by the name, but the draw of Asian food overpowered my reservations about restaurant names.
Finally they began to board the last flight I would take on this journey. I felt a rush of happiness, as brief as a gasp, and imagined being content after finding and making my bed, wandering a street in Glasgow, signing up for classes, and wiring for some spending money. Though, to be honest, a shower was my greatest concern.
3rd January: The flight was very long, and due to gale winds in Glasgow, we were redirect to Manchester. There was a great deal of waiting. In the plane (the stewards served pretzels and orange juice which I wouldn't serve to my enemies. But then I get really picky about my orange juice). In Customs we waited as well, in a "queue". I asked the man looking at my passport to honor my student Visa and he refused. I was quite upset. He claimed I would have to go to a Visa office in Scotland. He returned my passport to me, saying, "this is good enough for now". After customs the flight waited an hour or two for our check luggage. I surveyed the group and could only spy five boys that were vaguely attractive, and three of them seemed to be traveling with their girlfriends. I was unsuccessful at starting or joining conversations with anyone. My stomach hurt a great deal- I had been given a Chicken dinner on the flight because when my tickets were switched "Vegetarian" was left off. And I had a headache. A horrible screeching beep sounded to alert us that luggage was coming. This happened three times before any luggage actually came. After getting our bags, we were directed to a pick-up lobby and given vouchers for 5 pounds to get food and drink. Everyone swarmed a gas-station type of place. Then the buses to take us to Glasgow finally arrived. Waiting here, I met two other American study abroad students, Jill and Jane. But neither was in the mood to talk for very long, considering the trying circumstances. There was not enough luggage space and so a small group of us had to wait for two more hours. There was a bus rest stop with a few shops. I got a "Canadian maple" nature bar for dinner and was all set to call my Arcadia contact to let them know I was finally on the bus and give them my time of arrival. I'd get to go it in a spiffy-looking red phone booth and everything. But the bus was locked by the time I went back to retrieve the number from my bag. We arrived at the Glasgow airport at 5pm.
I went directly to the bus that would take me to the rail station so I could catch a train to Edinburgh. It was already very dark. It seemed unfair that I was minutes away from the city center and Glasgow university, but had to brave an hour more on the train instead. I could not understand the bus driver the first three times he spoke at me, clarifying my purchase of a " single fare" ( one-way) ticket. On the bus, I asked two dentistry students about which stop I should get off at. Thier accents were spectacular, and I was so tired I felt no embarassent about listening in to their conversation. From my stop to the rail station, luckily, I did not get lost. At the rail station, I bought a ticket at a machine, but it asked me to swipe my card twice. Two tickets fell out, for the price of 12.50 pound each. I hope I wasn't charged as such. I was just in time to board the next train in about three minutes, and was terribly relived, until I saw that it had been cancelled. There was a moment of panic when I thought I'd gotten myself half an hour from the safety of an airport and I had a strong urge to find the nearest policeman and cry into their arms. But there was another train at 6:30. So I waited. I tried to use the pay phone in this time, losing 2 pound and 50 pence before giving up the attempt. I considered asking someone for the use of their mobile, but what would calling really do? I would be there as soon as was possible, and the program ( according to my schedule) was concluded for the day. If I couldn't find anyone at the inn, I could call from the desk and take a room. I decided I could spare the taxi fare which would take me from the rail station to the inn. It was dark, I was tired, and had no idea how far it was. On the train, I read more of "Name of the Wind" leaving less than a centimeter, and looked up with full alertness, ready to bolt off the train at every stop. Of course mine was the very last. I walked out to the street, looked at the map once more, and sought a taxi. The driver asked me, "Do you know precisely where the Jury's Inn is located?". In my mind, I was rather flippant in reply. " Well of course not, otherwise why would I be asking you to take me there?!" I just smiled and shook my head "no". He took a deep breath, like I was seriously wasting his time, before he gave me walking directions. I lifted my bags (neither of which had wheels or waterproofing, and the ground was wet), " You sure its not too far to walk?" I asked. He assured me and I went. It was rather close, and I would have felt stupid arriving by taxi, but my sore arms and hands would not have minded. At the inn I let the receptionist know I was with Arcadia and asked how to contact someone. She dialed for me and gave me a room card. Hamish answered ( I was expecting a woman's voice, as the contact number was listed under "Anna West") and told me to grab some dinner ( to be reimbursed) and get some sleep, and to meet the next morning. I put my bags in the room and pushed the light switch ( which is more button- like than the American lever). Reception was busy, so I got dinner. I didn't expect to be reimbursed but I went to the Inn's restaurant and had delicious soup and gnocchi because I didn't want to walk anywhere. The gnocchi was a bit dry, and had eggplant all over it, so I took it to my room to eat if I got hungry later. There was something oddly comforting about the familiar action of calling reception for a wake up call. I NEARLY finished the stupid book ( which, of course, wasn't getting to the end of the story- I thought in 2 inches the man could have the decency to write a complete story) but favored a shower and sleep over empty victory of reading the last page.
4 January: I woke, read a few more pages of "Name of the Wind", checked my bags in the luggage storage room, and got breakfast. I'd like to say that the dinner and shower and sleep were the best I ever had, but it is not true. Sleep and food had not shaken off my headache, I was now congested ( for which I took congestion pills at every occasion of food), the hotel "conditioning shampoo" had irritated my (very testy) hair, my skin was very dry, and I had an odd rash on my calf, almost like someone had drawn a mark with a pen. Still, I was where I was supposed to be, and had much to discuss- my Visa, I believed, was invalid. I had ten or so minutes to kill so I went to the Greyfriars conference room early, hoping to grab a chair. Unfortunately, I was denied access, so I read and waited, sitting on a low covered pipe. Then I met Hamish and Anna, and the rest of the Glasgow University group ( all female) and listened to the very helpful information they spewed for the next few hours. Hamish then took me out to lunch and stuffed my brain even more with the information I had missed while I was waiting in Manchester Airport. On the bus back to Glasgow, I saw lovely fields with sheep which I imagined to baa with a Scottish accent, and felt a little better at having braved my ordeals. Deposited at my suite, I checked in and unpacked rather quickly. My computer was near dying and didn't tell the appropriate time. I tried plugging in the power cord, but no success. I had a cunning plan. Though exhausted, I went to the Common Services Building to seek out other students. They, surely, would have phones, perhaps loan me an alarm clock, or call me when they woke up in the morning. I met three ladies from China playing table tennis, who were exchange, but for the whole year and would not be attending the orientation. A suite-mate from Australia had just arrived and would be going as well, so we all went to the suite after the tournament was complete. Giselle agreed to call me after I called her later that night to give her my room extension. We all shared a delicious dinner. I was so relieved, I didn't really mind the cold gusts of wind and rain making my teeth chatter. When I got to my room, I checked my phone, which I had thought I had successfully set up when I arrived. Not so. It was quite uncooperative and no matter how long or how often dialed ANY extension, I got a busy signal. Defeated, I showered, and finished "Name of the Wind" which was terribly unsatisfying, but the ending of the book synchronized with the end of my very long journey to Glasgow.
1st January: Wake at 4am. My connecting flight was cancelled. So my mother and I had to wait in line as two full flights were ushered past us to be helped first. When I was helped, the earliest arrival date was 4th January. My orientation began on the 3rd. I called the continental airlines customer service, and was told again that the earliest time of arrival would be 4th January. By this time there was no one waiting for assistance at the desk, so I returned, this time to a different person. Mom started freaking out and she was ready to chew this agent to shreds. I could tell, because I've become acutely aware of the warning signs of "you are in trouble" from mom over the years. I got mom to calm down and calmly dealt with the agent, explaining my problem. Miraculously she was able to book me a flight that would arrive in the morning of the 3rd! Which departed later on January 1st and contained a series of terribly long layovers and red-eye flights.
Mom and I returned home for a few hours and had lunch with my older brother Erik at a Panda Express. The servings were so large I almost believed I wouldn't have to buy airport food because I'd eaten so much. Alas, this was not the case. We returned a bit later to the airport, assured that security would be really full and should arrive early. It was surprisingly quick, which meant I got to spend a lot of time sitting at my gate and looking at the half-ruins of the old airport restaurant from the window. After I sketched it and got frustrated, I set my teeth to finish Patrick Rothfuss' "The Name of the Wind". It is a solid two inches and a good challenge to boredom.
I sketched some more at the LA airport as I waited for my next flight. It was difficult to locate drinking fountains, and my computer power cord refused to work at any of the outlets I came across- the wires were severely frayed. I found a Ruby's "dinette" and decided to eat something. The vegetarian options did not have protein, so I opted for a clam chowder bread bowl, advertised with bacon. I heard last year that most "bacon bits" are not actually real meat anyways, in fact a vegan product! ( I have no idea if this is true, but it got me to order the bread bowl). It was quite delicious and I couldn't taste any bacon in it at all. After this I got a hazelnut iced coffee at the Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf, which I was sure I would miss in Scotland. Thus armed, I set to read some more. After a little bit I looked at the clock, sure I'd spent at least two hours this way. I was saddened to see only half an hour had passed. After this I attempted to time my self reading and come up with a page-per hour rate. I was disappointed when my calculations showed that I could read a whopping 62 pages per hour. I had expected much more. I grazed the booksellers, looking for something that would help induce a faster reading speed and came across a funny little red book called, I think, "the Guide to being Snarky", which featured a series of quotations dripping with sarcasm. I figured I would find it in other airport bookstores and finish reading it later. I did not find it again, unfortunately. I whiled away the hours by thinking of how to reach the Arcadia orientation from the Glasgow airport, writing down odd thoughts, and making lists of things I'd need to buy during the times when I couldn't force myself to read anymore of " The Name of the Wind".
Cleveland. 2nd January after the red-eye, I walked into the terminal, excited at the prospect of having to wander all over to find my next gate. Unfortunately, it was directly across from my entry point, not fifteen steps away. I was quickly bored an walked to sit in gate C4 merely because it reminded me of explosives. It was empty, and unlike the gate I was supposed to wait at for a good part of the day, I could only hear one terrible radio station, rather than two playing over each other. I could not get any sleep on the flight and was very tired, but worried about sleeping too long and missing my next flight. There was nothing I could see out the windows of any interest, so I didn't sketch anything. I looked for a place with free internet so I could check my e-mail, like a starbucks or something, but found instead a crowd of people ( at 7am, mind you) in front of the Gelato place. I also came across a very large "crocs" store, a Museum of Rock gift shop, something titled, "Cheeburger cheeburger", many phone accessories but no power cords for laptops, a sale rack of jackets at the "low" price of 110$, and all of these horrors were accompanied by alternating green and red lights from the ceiling, and the strains of Cyndi Lauper and what seemed to be an assortment of failed impersonators. Where there weren't green and red lights, my socks glowed like in ultra-violet light. I tried really hard not to think about the health effects. It was difficult to find any clocks, and my hands at this point had begun to blister from hauling my heavy carry-on. I was determined to take a nap. I succeeded for a total of 15 minutes. I went to the gelato place to see what the fuss was about and got a cliff bar and apple juice for less than the price of the least expensive gelato. I found internet, but without a means of powering my computer, I was online briefly- just enough to get directions as to how I could get to my orientation location from the Glasgow airport. My ticket did not register for the next flight, but I managed to get on, and slept for a bit.
Newark. Pros: no music, no scary lights. Cons: Shops. Everywhere. It was like a huge mall with airport on the side. I waited at my gate for a while, could not access internet, and decided to change some of my money into pounds. The exchange station had a huge line, of course, so I indulged in sushi and egg foo young at "Wok and Roll". I was a bit embarrassed by the name, but the draw of Asian food overpowered my reservations about restaurant names.
Finally they began to board the last flight I would take on this journey. I felt a rush of happiness, as brief as a gasp, and imagined being content after finding and making my bed, wandering a street in Glasgow, signing up for classes, and wiring for some spending money. Though, to be honest, a shower was my greatest concern.
3rd January: The flight was very long, and due to gale winds in Glasgow, we were redirect to Manchester. There was a great deal of waiting. In the plane (the stewards served pretzels and orange juice which I wouldn't serve to my enemies. But then I get really picky about my orange juice). In Customs we waited as well, in a "queue". I asked the man looking at my passport to honor my student Visa and he refused. I was quite upset. He claimed I would have to go to a Visa office in Scotland. He returned my passport to me, saying, "this is good enough for now". After customs the flight waited an hour or two for our check luggage. I surveyed the group and could only spy five boys that were vaguely attractive, and three of them seemed to be traveling with their girlfriends. I was unsuccessful at starting or joining conversations with anyone. My stomach hurt a great deal- I had been given a Chicken dinner on the flight because when my tickets were switched "Vegetarian" was left off. And I had a headache. A horrible screeching beep sounded to alert us that luggage was coming. This happened three times before any luggage actually came. After getting our bags, we were directed to a pick-up lobby and given vouchers for 5 pounds to get food and drink. Everyone swarmed a gas-station type of place. Then the buses to take us to Glasgow finally arrived. Waiting here, I met two other American study abroad students, Jill and Jane. But neither was in the mood to talk for very long, considering the trying circumstances. There was not enough luggage space and so a small group of us had to wait for two more hours. There was a bus rest stop with a few shops. I got a "Canadian maple" nature bar for dinner and was all set to call my Arcadia contact to let them know I was finally on the bus and give them my time of arrival. I'd get to go it in a spiffy-looking red phone booth and everything. But the bus was locked by the time I went back to retrieve the number from my bag. We arrived at the Glasgow airport at 5pm.
I went directly to the bus that would take me to the rail station so I could catch a train to Edinburgh. It was already very dark. It seemed unfair that I was minutes away from the city center and Glasgow university, but had to brave an hour more on the train instead. I could not understand the bus driver the first three times he spoke at me, clarifying my purchase of a " single fare" ( one-way) ticket. On the bus, I asked two dentistry students about which stop I should get off at. Thier accents were spectacular, and I was so tired I felt no embarassent about listening in to their conversation. From my stop to the rail station, luckily, I did not get lost. At the rail station, I bought a ticket at a machine, but it asked me to swipe my card twice. Two tickets fell out, for the price of 12.50 pound each. I hope I wasn't charged as such. I was just in time to board the next train in about three minutes, and was terribly relived, until I saw that it had been cancelled. There was a moment of panic when I thought I'd gotten myself half an hour from the safety of an airport and I had a strong urge to find the nearest policeman and cry into their arms. But there was another train at 6:30. So I waited. I tried to use the pay phone in this time, losing 2 pound and 50 pence before giving up the attempt. I considered asking someone for the use of their mobile, but what would calling really do? I would be there as soon as was possible, and the program ( according to my schedule) was concluded for the day. If I couldn't find anyone at the inn, I could call from the desk and take a room. I decided I could spare the taxi fare which would take me from the rail station to the inn. It was dark, I was tired, and had no idea how far it was. On the train, I read more of "Name of the Wind" leaving less than a centimeter, and looked up with full alertness, ready to bolt off the train at every stop. Of course mine was the very last. I walked out to the street, looked at the map once more, and sought a taxi. The driver asked me, "Do you know precisely where the Jury's Inn is located?". In my mind, I was rather flippant in reply. " Well of course not, otherwise why would I be asking you to take me there?!" I just smiled and shook my head "no". He took a deep breath, like I was seriously wasting his time, before he gave me walking directions. I lifted my bags (neither of which had wheels or waterproofing, and the ground was wet), " You sure its not too far to walk?" I asked. He assured me and I went. It was rather close, and I would have felt stupid arriving by taxi, but my sore arms and hands would not have minded. At the inn I let the receptionist know I was with Arcadia and asked how to contact someone. She dialed for me and gave me a room card. Hamish answered ( I was expecting a woman's voice, as the contact number was listed under "Anna West") and told me to grab some dinner ( to be reimbursed) and get some sleep, and to meet the next morning. I put my bags in the room and pushed the light switch ( which is more button- like than the American lever). Reception was busy, so I got dinner. I didn't expect to be reimbursed but I went to the Inn's restaurant and had delicious soup and gnocchi because I didn't want to walk anywhere. The gnocchi was a bit dry, and had eggplant all over it, so I took it to my room to eat if I got hungry later. There was something oddly comforting about the familiar action of calling reception for a wake up call. I NEARLY finished the stupid book ( which, of course, wasn't getting to the end of the story- I thought in 2 inches the man could have the decency to write a complete story) but favored a shower and sleep over empty victory of reading the last page.
4 January: I woke, read a few more pages of "Name of the Wind", checked my bags in the luggage storage room, and got breakfast. I'd like to say that the dinner and shower and sleep were the best I ever had, but it is not true. Sleep and food had not shaken off my headache, I was now congested ( for which I took congestion pills at every occasion of food), the hotel "conditioning shampoo" had irritated my (very testy) hair, my skin was very dry, and I had an odd rash on my calf, almost like someone had drawn a mark with a pen. Still, I was where I was supposed to be, and had much to discuss- my Visa, I believed, was invalid. I had ten or so minutes to kill so I went to the Greyfriars conference room early, hoping to grab a chair. Unfortunately, I was denied access, so I read and waited, sitting on a low covered pipe. Then I met Hamish and Anna, and the rest of the Glasgow University group ( all female) and listened to the very helpful information they spewed for the next few hours. Hamish then took me out to lunch and stuffed my brain even more with the information I had missed while I was waiting in Manchester Airport. On the bus back to Glasgow, I saw lovely fields with sheep which I imagined to baa with a Scottish accent, and felt a little better at having braved my ordeals. Deposited at my suite, I checked in and unpacked rather quickly. My computer was near dying and didn't tell the appropriate time. I tried plugging in the power cord, but no success. I had a cunning plan. Though exhausted, I went to the Common Services Building to seek out other students. They, surely, would have phones, perhaps loan me an alarm clock, or call me when they woke up in the morning. I met three ladies from China playing table tennis, who were exchange, but for the whole year and would not be attending the orientation. A suite-mate from Australia had just arrived and would be going as well, so we all went to the suite after the tournament was complete. Giselle agreed to call me after I called her later that night to give her my room extension. We all shared a delicious dinner. I was so relieved, I didn't really mind the cold gusts of wind and rain making my teeth chatter. When I got to my room, I checked my phone, which I had thought I had successfully set up when I arrived. Not so. It was quite uncooperative and no matter how long or how often dialed ANY extension, I got a busy signal. Defeated, I showered, and finished "Name of the Wind" which was terribly unsatisfying, but the ending of the book synchronized with the end of my very long journey to Glasgow.
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