Day Tripper

The time has come, the students said, to explore the many sights.

Like fish and chips and Beatles bars,

Like cathedrals and high heights.

On Saturday, approximately 300 students left Leeds for a day long excursion to Liverpool; owner of one of the busiest seaside docks in the UK, home to the largest Anglican church in the world, and birthplace of a little band called The Beatles.

After dragging my resistant body out of bed at 7:30am and trudging to the buses on what was the coldest day since my arrival, I was told that my bus was overbooked. They offered anyone who volunteered to get shifted to another coach free chocolate. That's all it took to get my hand up in the air. I joined a group of five others chocoholics but quickly began regretting voluntarily standing out in the cold, and subjecting my face to the violent, subzero winds. After 20 minutes of waiting to see which coach we would be placed on, the organizer informed us that they had miscounted and we could take our originally assigned bus. So basically, I volunteered to board the coach last and received no choco-reward. Solid start to the day.

The rest of the trip more than made up for the slightly rocky morning. Alysha, Jessica and I traveled the entire town on foot which proved to be the best way of exploring the city. We were dwarfed next to the massive Anglican church, treated to fresh fish and chips at a local cafe, and then surrounded by Beatles memorabilia. The day was so full of adventure that unlike the boisterous morning bus ride, the trip home was completely silent with almost everyone awkwardly leaning against a window, their chair, or their neighbor, lulled to sleep by the coach motor and dimmed city lights.

Highlight of the trip: Visiting the Cavern, the underground pub where The Beatles got their start, and singing along to the classics with Beatles fans from all over the world. Since you couldn't be there with me, pour yourself a pint and watch the video for a little taste of what it was like.

My street and Leeds City Hall

This ain't no vacation

As my first week of classes comes to a close, I must confess that I have not yet reentered the academic swing of things. I finished up my term at McMaster in mid December, and was mentally on vacation far before that date. I was on break for over a month before I was ever forced to return to the classroom and the ridiculous length of my leisure time put me into a state of perma-holiday. Now that classes have started, I am slowly attempting to get back into things; however, it's not going so well. I feel like a sugar high toddler being forced to stand still when I want to do is run around. There is so much to see and do in Leeds that confining myself to a lecture theatre almost seems like a disservice to my experience here. Then I remember the main reason that I am even here is to complete an academic semester. It's time to suck it up and study.

Though I was battling a particularly nasty case of procrastination, I managed to get myself into the library a few times this week. Brotherton library, with its two story pillars, polished wood floors, chandeliers, and decorated dome ceiling, definitely helped ease my transition back into the world of academia. Even if my required readings didn't force me to visit, I would go in there just to wander. When the sun shines (rare, but it happens), the entire core area of the library is bathed in light. Though this sends some of the more intense library regulars running for the shadows, it has made Brotherton my study spot of choice. Each time I go, I manage to stay for a little longer.

Current record: 1.5 hours
Level of work accomplished: Low
Explanation: My eyes moved down the page, but in my head I was planning a Euro trip
Reason for departure: NEEDED to go buy some jeggings (i.e. jean leggings, best of both worlds)

Ok, so it's a work in progress but with a little discipline, slightly more effort, and some Brotherton magic, I'll be back to full out nerd status in no time.

See what I see

Happy one week anniversary

I have reached a milestone in my new relationship. Though I was only introduced to Leeds a short week ago, I have come to feel at home in its streets, stores, and student life. I no longer wake up wondering how I ended up so far from home. Instead, I can slowly feel Leeds becoming a new home. My mental map of the city is beginning to fill in and everyday I find new things within the city. For instance, today, a few friends and I wandered down to the water and stumbled upon the gorgeous city hall. A few days ago, we took an alternate route to get groceries and happened to find a giant public skating rink in front of the Leeds City Museum. It might be too early to use the "L-word", but Leeds is definitely finding its way into my heart.

Unfortunately, my honeymoon period is coming to an end. Tomorrow is the official beginning of second semester and starting at 11am, I will once again have classes to attend. Despite the fact that with school comes work and with work comes hatred for all that is good, I can honestly say that I am really excited to start my courses here at Leeds. I filled my semester with courses that I wasn't able to take back home and the result is a schedule filled with lectures and workshops that I am genuinely excited for, such as:

Internet Communications - Where I not only learn about online media but am also taught to apply my knowledge by making a website. 

Social Communication - Learning from Dr. Taylor, a leading author in the field of mass media, about how media impacts society by looking at cultural products of the media such as "celebrity culture". 

Drawing - Exactly what it sounds like, but even better because my classes are held at the beautiful City of Leeds Art Gallery. 

The Olympic Games - Not only will I be taking this course in parallel to the 2010 Olympics in my home country, but I will be learning about all aspects of the games from its business to culture to history to politics. Not only is the material atypical for a university course but the evaluation is based on student generated podcasts rather than the traditional essays or exams. 

I guess this is the type of schedule you get when you're interested in everything and but directed at nothing.  Personally, I wouldn't have it any other way.

The rain isn't in spain

I was justly warned about UK weather, but since my arrival here in Leeds I haven't had to face more than a light drizzle; until today. I left my flat this afternoon to meet Celeste, a McMaster student on full year exchange, to help celebrate her freedom from exams. I looked out the window to gauge the weather, and determined that although it was sprinkling it was nice enough to wear my leather boots and wool coat. The UK weather that I had experienced up to this point had been damp and dreary but nowhere near the level of precipitation that I had been prepared for. I met up with Celeste at one of the Leeds student union bars called "Old Bar" where I had my first taste of cornish pasty, which is akin to travel style pot pie. The pub was packed with students heavily celebrating the end of exams. The atmosphere was one of relief, happiness, and general exuberance. After we finished up, I left to return to my flat, but as soon as I got to the door of the pub I realized that my journey home was going to be slightly soggy. The weather had taken a turn for the typical. It was now raining so hard that the cracks in the sidewalk had turned into rivers feeding into the massive puddles that engulfed the pavement. I had naively thought that the casual drizzle that we had been getting was indicative of the weather that I could expect, so I had left my raincoat, boots, and umbrella comfortably resting in my closet. As a result, by the time I got back to my flat, my leather purse was streaked with dark droplets, my coat smelled of rain, and my makeup had run down my face to the point that I resembled members of KISS.

Lesson learned: NEVER leave home without an umbrella.

Same stress, different country

I'm not quite sure what it is about university, but my relationship with administration has always been slightly dysfunctional. I am constantly fighting to take the courses that I want, get time slots that actually fit in my schedule, or get into lectures that are required for my degree. These battles have loomed over my entire university career and they were one educational aspect that I was hoping to leave on the other side of the world. Unfortunately, as I found out today, university bureaucracy spans oceans.

I woke up at the uncomfortable hour of 8am determined to sort my module schedule out. Negotiating with faculties and departments is hard enough, but it becomes a monumental task when you don't know your way around campus. It took me two wrong attempts and a solid three hours to find the Communications Department only to land on the monuments of paperwork that were waiting for me. In my quest to find the Fine Arts department, I ended up at Leeds Fine Arts College, a completely different school that is in no way affiliated with Leeds University. It took an in-depth conversation with the receptionist AND  their academic adviser to make me realize that I was neither in the right place, nor speaking to the right people. I walked out trying to look as bashful as possible so as to not seem outright dimwitted.

After tedious hours of running though administrative buildings and trying to squeeze my way into courses that didn't want me, I was ready for a pick me up. I met up with Alysha and a few of her flatmates (Hannah and Calum) and we proceeded to go vintage shopping. After trying on some old knitted jumpers, I accidentally put my shirt on backwards and therefore proceeded to the front of the shop with my tag sticking out of my side as if I was playing flag football. The shop owner, a rosy looking man dressed in chords and an old wool sweater, chuckled to himself and pointed out my mistake. Embarrassed I told him that I would change it later, but he informed me that it was bad luck to reverse it. Not wanting to face anymore bad luck, I conceded and left my sweater bearing its seams to the world.

Tomorrow will be brighter; probably not weather wise, but definitely in the positive sense of things. Yes, tomorrow will be brighter.

Quotable

"Bursting with juicy bits"

                - label on Tropicana orange juice with lots of pulp

Waking up on the other side of the world

Today was my first full (and fully coherent) day in Leeds. I woke up after a solid 13 hour sleep ready for a day of adventure, exploration, and errands. At noon, Alysha and I met up with my friend Celeste, a student from McMaster who is attending Leeds on a full year exchange. After we enjoyed lunch and my first taste of English cider (i.e. liquid candy alcohol), Celeste showed us around Leeds. The city is absolutely beautiful with its cobblestone walkways, vintage clothing shops, and old British architecture. The setting was completed by typical English weather which consisted of chilled temperatures and a damp, dense fog that hovered over the city. Though I was warned that I would hate the climate here at Leeds, the chilling air was just cool enough to be refreshing without being painful. I think I might even like it.

Photo credit: Celeste Orr

After we left Celeste, Alysha and I went to some of the local convenience stores to get some more essentials. I decided that it was high time that I stopped attacking my food with my hands, so I stopped into Wilkinsons, a local cross between Walmart and Dolorama, for some cutlery. When I reached the front of the queue, the clerk surprisingly asked me to hand over my ID rather than my money. Apparently in the UK, you must be at least 18 to buy a knife, or as the clerk put it, "Ya hafta look 21 but be over 18" (*insert English accent of your choice).

End of story: Everyone beware because I am now legally armed with a butter knife.

24 hours and counting

I did it. I was under the weight limit, got through security, got past the border, got my baggage, found my train, and finally arrived in Leeds, England. Hurrah!

The voyage was surprisingly uneventful. As a girl who has been through bomb threats, 24 hour delays, random searches, and drug sniffing, I figured that a journey of this magnitude was just begging for some ridiculous curve balls. At the very least, I was prepared for quite the hassle at the border. I chose to avoid the bureaucracy of getting UK visas and was therefore armed with a binder full of official documents to prove my legitimacy. Immigration was the one pivotal point that could change everything. For instance, had the agent decided not to let me into the UK, my writings would have been less about an amazing trip, and more about me hitchhiking my way back to Canada. I went in fully prepared for interrogation and scrutiny, but to my surprise, I was simply asked why I was in the UK and told a few jokes by a jolly balding Englishman before being promptly sent on my way.

Though my travel companion, Alysha, and I did not hit any significant hiccups, we did encounter one major problem: the time change. We officially left Canada at 4pm EST and got into England at 4am local time. The five hour time difference and constant traveling kept us on our toes and prevented us from any significant rest. While we waited for our connecting train from Machester, I tried to get some sleep; however, every few minutes I would wake up, completely confused as to where I was, the time and date, and how I had gotten there. The travel induced haze made me forget everything but my own name and by the end of the day, even that was becoming foggy. I decided to pass the time by watching an impossibly fat pigeon fly around the station and eventually poop on the seat next to an old woman. By the time we arrived in Leeds, we were drunk on adrenaline so we decided to try and keep up with the local schedule. We stayed outside and on our feet for majority of the day in order to ward off any encroaching snooze attacks. Unfortunately, a side-effect to lack of rest seems to be uncontrollable flailing and complete loss of coordination which resulted  in me breaking my new adapter the moment I took it out of its case.

The goal is to stay awake until 7pm, a respectable time for 90 year olds and weary travelers to turn in for the night. My theory is that if I completely mess with my system to the point that time is no longer fathomable,  I will be able to adjust to the time change that much faster.

It is currently 4:30pm local time and 11:30 Toronto time. I have been up for 27 hours and the patterns on my duvet cover have begun to dance in an attempt to seduce me into a slumber.

And so it begins

Today's the day.

All my bags are packed and I'm raring to go. If all goes according to plan, I will be stepping onto my flight at 4pm this afternoon. Though I know I'm prepared, I don't yet feel ready. I don't know if it was nerves, excitement or a nauseating combo of the two, but I wasn't able sleep last night. Instead, I laid awake for hours going over every detail and potential adventure that might be waiting for me on the other side of the ocean.

To all those I'll be leaving behind: Miss me while I'm gone because you can bet that I'll be missing you.
To the city of Leeds: Ready or not, here I come.

My Life in 44lbs

I have a weight problem. I ignored it for as long as I could, but I have to face facts. It’s time to shed some pounds and lighten my load.


Goal weight: 44lbs

Airplane companies have become notorious for their restrictions; however, I have found a company that tops them all. Air Transat only allows its passengers to check around 44lbs (20 kgs) worth of luggage. This presents quite a challenge since my shoes alone could fill that limit. Add that to the fact that I am packing for five months, three different seasons and unknown events/festivities and you’ll understand the weight of my problem.

Knowing full well that this challenge was going to require some strategic planning, I began experimenting. I used numerous different bags, suitcases, and backpacks; if I was only able to bring 44lbs worth of stuff, I wasn’t about to waste my weight on the bags themselves. I ended up using my pack and duffle bag and began strategically filling them with everything from sweaters to flip-flops.

As my weight escalated, I became increasingly obsessed with my scale. Every pound mattered. As I watched the numbers swell, I quickly learned the difference between needs and wants.

Underwear = need
Sexy heels = want
Jeans = need
Seven pairs = want

Though I spent four days sweating over my baggage, I just kept packing on the pounds. I finally managed to get my luggage to a solid 43.5lbs; however, meeting the requirement came with some major sacrifices. Not only did I have to surrender my “just in case” and “what if” outfits, I also had to check a little bit of my dignity. Airtransat may be immorally constricting, but I discovered a loophole. They can restrict my check in, they can limit my carry on, but they can’t control the clothing on my back. As a result of this revelation, on Sunday I will be wearing my heaviest jeans, a tank top, a sweater, a long sleeved shirt, a sweatshirt, my winter jacket,  a scarf, and my rain boots for the duration of my travels.

Thanks to Air Transat, my first introduction to England will be dressed as the Michelin Man.

Ex(change)

Logically, in the week leading up to a trip of this proportion, one would spend most of their time packing and preparing. However, I have been procrastinating and my poison of choice has been the creation of this travel blog. In the past few days, I have spent countless hours testing blogs on various websites. It took me the duration of family movie night to realize that Wordpress wasn't worth the effort. This revelation was followed by a lesson in the downfalls of Tumblr the subsequent morning.

After what felt like an eternity of frustration riddled with html code and cheesy blog backgrounds, I decided to stick to what I know, and what I know is Blogger. I racked my brain for the perfect title to sum up my impending exchange and after polling friends and family, I settled on the title "The Local Foreigner". This title encompassed the fact that during my trip I would live the life of a local while remaining a foreigner by nature. Unfortunately, "thelocalforeigner.blogspot.com" was already claimed.

Upon my mother's suggestion, I kept the title and simply changed the url to be "Ishani's exchange". Later that day, I proudly showed the product of three days work to my close friend. As I typed in the url, she turned to me with her eyes wide and then burst into fits of laughter. Once she caught her breath she showed me that my new and improved url "ishanisexchange.blogspot.com" did not just read "Ishani's exchange" but also "Ishani Sex Change".

Though I have been told that this trip will make me into a whole new person, that was a bit more of a change than I am ready to handle. I quickly removed the blog from the interweb to avoid any calls from concerned relatives and came up with an entirely new site. This blog may not have the same dramatic title as its predecessor, but my trip is meant to be transnational, not transgendered. To settle any confusion, gender-related or otherwise; I needed a change.

My Firsts

When I tell anyone that I’m going on exchange, the immediate response is always in reference to my level of excitement:

“Exchange? That’s so exciting!”
“Are you excited?”
“How excited are you?”
“You must be so excited!”

The word has lost all meaning and these responses now top up my personal FAQ list.

On Sunday, January 17th, 2010 I will be “leaving on a jet plane” and flying off to Leeds, England for my semester long exchange. With my date of departure less than a week away, most people expect me to be bursting with excitement; however, excited is not the word I would use.

They say that there is a first time for everything, and with my exchange, almost everything will be a first. It is my first time visiting Europe; the first time I’ll be living outside of Ontario; the first time studying at a different university; and the first time I’ll be travelling completely on my own. Though the prospect leaving my comfortable routine for the unfamiliar is daunting, there is no doubt in my mind that this trip will be a momentous experience.

So no, excited is not the right word. I am nervous, I am overwhelmed but I am also TOTALLY STOKED!