Thursday, March 18, 2010

Hell Week: The UK Edition

The British schooling system differs in many ways from the standard Canadian university. Courses are called "modules" and only require three hours of class time a week. Despite the limited number of required hours, a full course load can be as little as three classes per semester. Add this to the fact that the average module only requires one assignment per semester plus a final exam and you'll understand how UK students are able to spend every night at the pub. However, though the university structure in Leeds contrasts Mac in many ways, there is one thing that both universities have in common: hell week.

"Hell week", by definition, is that week right before a break in the semester. It is the five day period in which literally every course has some form of major assessment deadline. The libraries are suddenly more popular than the pubs and there is a visible decline in student sleep and hygiene. This past week I witnessed the UK Edition of Hell Week and while the libraries may have been more posh and the students better dressed, all the familiar elements were present. There were line ups for library computers, students surrounded by fortresses of books, and coffee consumption was at an all time high.

Tomorrow is the official conclusion to this horrendous period. By 4pm everyone will have submitted their papers and Easter break will have officially begun. That's the biggest difference between Canadian and British Hell Weeks, the Brits emerge from the shadows of the library into a sunny, month long break. If you're going to go through hell, it's nice to know there's a vacation of heavenly proportions waiting on the the other side.

Thursday, March 11, 2010

Morning Sunshine

These past few days have been so delightfully sunny that I don't even mind that I have routinely been woken up by a symphony of chainsaws, construction, and freshman feeling the effects of a good night out. Sun makes me smile, despite the unappealing soundtrack to living in residence. 

Wednesday, March 10, 2010

Nether-Netherlands

Desperately seeking a break from mushy peas, academia, and grey skies, I left the island and made my first official trip to Europe. For this inaugural journey, I went to the stay with my family in the Netherlands. Unlike the vast expansiveness that is Canada, Europe's attractions are all concentrated onto a small area of land. Thanks to this fact, I was able to fly in and out of Dusseldorf, Germany to avoid the high cost and intense crowds of the Amsterdam airport. During my journey there, I kept myself entertained by reading the Diary of Anne Frank, which I had picked up because we were planning a visit to the Anne Frank House in Amsterdam. Unfortunately, I got so absorbed in her story that by the time I arrived in Germany, I was absolutely terrified of the aryan Gestapo; sorry, immigration officer. Thankfully, they allowed me to enter the EU despite my clear nerves. After meeting up with Kavita and Erwin, we hopped into the car and made a quick (i.e. 226 km/h) getaway out of Germany on the autobahn.

Amsterdam, the European city of sin, was my first official tour. "Window shopping" takes on a whole new meaning in the red light district where brothels put their, umm "products and services", on in their store front displays. It's like a racy version of Macys. Coffee Shops too are no longer just for a cup of joe and socializing, these are the tourist hubs that dispel a thick fog of "herbal" smoke from their open doors. Despite it's main claims to fame, the XXX reputation that precedes this city does not do justice to its beauty. The cobblestone streets, city markets, WWII landmarks, canals and wonderously tall and skinny buildings (and people), are what I will remember of Amsterdam. Most of all, I will remember the bikes.

In the Netherlands, biking is an integrated mode of transportation. There are separate streets and traffic lights just for cyclists and it is so safe that no one wears a helmet. While in Amsterdam, I visited my friend Jenny and the two of us decided to "go native" and ride two people to a bike. The locals do it, how hard can it be?

Attempt #1: Jenny was peddling and I was sitting side saddle on the back. I had to jump off the moving bicycle to narrowly avoid a crash.
Attempt #2: We crashed.
Attempt #3: Toss aside our dignity and have the passenger straddle the back of the bike as if we were on a motorcycle. However, we quickly realize that doubling the weight on a bicycle makes for some intense exercise.
Attempt #4: Try and switch drivers half way, but I could not keep the bike straight. We swerved all across the bike lane like a drunk toddler.
Attempt #5: Finally get the hang of it only to get chased by swans all the way home.

The rest of my days in the Netherlands were filled with numerous forms of waffles and pancakes (stroopwafels, PannekoekenPoffertjes) as well as the added delight of home cooking. I was able to fulfill my childhood fantasy of being in more than one place at once in the Southern Netherlands where I was able to stand in Netherlands, Germany and Belgium. simultaneously. We visited a windmill, wandered the streets of Tiel, tried to describe a pomegranate to a local fruit vendor and even attended a Dutch dinner party. The whole experience was such a refreshing change from student life, the UK, major tourist attractions and the quick trips that I have been doing. It was nice to have time to just relax and smell the tulips.

Highlight of the trip: Getting to visit family.

Monday, March 1, 2010

Our ice, our game, OUR GOLD

After weeks of staying up until odd hours of the night to watch the Olympic hockey games, it all came down to one night; and what a night it was. There is something about hockey that brings Canadians together, wherever they are, in fierce passion and pride. We had to deal with BBC commentators comparing us to "Canadian geese", calling the goal a "net minder", and occasionally referring to the puck as a ball, but it didn't matter. It was a nerve wracking game, but with the unwavering support of our fellow Canucks, we made it through. Ok, the pitchers may have helped too.

I hope that our cries of pride, elation, and total excitement could be heard all the way across the pond.

Wandering the countryside

Photo credit: Alysha Selves 

International students have a keen sense of adventure. No weekend is complete without some form of trip, regardless of whether your travels take you to mainland Europe or a small English town. Keeping it low key this weekend, a few of us hopped on a city bus and took it as far as it would go into the English countryside. We visited two towns, Skipton and Ilkley, nestled in between the dales. The English dales are essentially large valleys that cradle picturesque communities between lush hills. From the tops of these hills you can look out onto the vast expanses of the English Moors, and you're almost guaranteed to run into some sheep along the way.

Now,  I've always been of the opinion that hiking is just walking in the woods by another name, and is therefore much less than exciting. However, seeing the amazing views, dodging sheep poop, and doing "Sound of Music" reenactments was well worth the hike. 

Highlight of the trip: Hiking up the steepest, muddiest hill, slipping on the way, finally clambering up to the top, only to realize that there were stairs less than 100m away.