Chapter 2: A Narrative of the Life of Freder---------------------- ME.

Hi, how are you?

Oh, you know, not much, just living in England and stuff.

You know, every time I sit here to write, I completely forget what I was going to say. Yet, all throughout the day, I'm constantly thinking "This is totally blog-worthy!"

So, to help my memory, I like to make lists. I also like to make lists because I am a control freak.

Now, you are going to have to excuse me, but I have been feeling rather blue in the past few days. Yes, it's that time of the month.

Let's move on (everyone, come with me).

1. I have horrible, almost unbearable hip pain. Yes, I guess all the walking finally took its toll on my 90-year-old body. I think it's also due to that one fall I told you about a couple blog posts ago. Anyway, I can feel my hip bones like... grinding (twerking?) against each other. It has caused me to stop walking as much and to take the bus more, which I detest because

2. The free bus system here (free for students) is ALWAYS LATE. I've had to wait up to 40 minutes for a bus. Since I'm pretty much American, I find this to be a torture. Waiting? REALLY? And speaking of waiting

3. Waiters are horrible. In England, the waiting staff does not depend on tips at all. This basically means they can get away with a lot of crap. People ain't tipping anyway, so why emotional-labor your way into their hearts? We went to an Indian restaurant on Saturday and the waiter was soooooooooooooooooo incredibly upset because only 7 of the 8 people we made a reservation for showed up. Then he was upset because we were taking our time to order. I, with all my experience in customer service, naturally wanted to knock him unconscious.

The same thing happened at one of the pubs. We were trying to order food (yes, you have to get up and go order at the counter. No one comes around) and the bartender said, waving his hands in the air, "I don't have time." I grabbed my things and left. Ain't nobody got time for that.

4. I have to go out with a thin jacket on or else I become a walking sauna. It's horrible, because I'm cold at first, then I walk, warm up, then I'm completely soaked, and I get cold, but I can't put my jacket back on because it's wet. SO WHAT'S THE POINT OF JACKETS?! MIGHT AS WELL GO OUT NAKED.

5. I cannot get any work done. I start reading only to fall asleep on my bed or get distracted by people outside my room (i.e. two Indian men singing Adele songs). I am so behind on my reading and yet I am sitting here writing this instead of reading Lazarillo de Tormes.

6. I had my first real class today. It sucked. I'm sorry, it just did. The professor is GREAT and the other students are BRILLIANT. So, naturally, everyone communicates everything telepathically. Words are a waste of time. Moreover, the classmate that makes the most comments has the thickest accent ever, so I cannot understand a word he says.

Excerpt from class [transcribed to the best of my ability]:

Prof: Yes, let's talk about the unspeakability (not an actual word) in Dorian Gray. What about art and sex? Aesthetics and Decadence? Beauty and desire?

Student: sdkfasd asdasdjvadfcvandf avdf adfv awrfgvaek wef ansdvlaksd asdcnasdsmdfna sdga dfasdfjas dfklasjdf sdkfjas kljaw erfawosfjasdf ag

Prof: HAHA! Excellent point, you are absolutely right. Has any of you read Dr. Seuss' To Kill a Mockingbird? Well Seuss mentions the theory of relativity in relation with gender roles in 13th century Indonesia. And that's just what this is.

Me:

In other words, I am lost.

7.  Downton Abbey has been freaking horrific. YES, THAT'S WHY I AM SO UPSET AND THIS LIST IS SO NEGATIVE. I am so depressed. I want my mommy. I want cookies and Christmas TV movies and Pope Francis videos. 

8. I have a doctor's appointment on Wednesday and the lady that booked it over the phone was VERY RUDE, so I am scared and not looking forward to it.

9. My student loan money came in last week, but get this: it takes  A WHOLE WEEK for my bloody British bank to accredit the deposit to my account. Like... yes, you read right, 5 business days. That's a million years in America. Meanwhile, I continue to live off charity.

10. I have cramps.



NOW,  I need to make an effort to be positive, right? So I can at least come up with a short list of positive things:

1. I made some Jesus-loving friends! I am very happy to be able to share my fandom of the Big G! This comes in handy in a time when one is so far away from family.

2. I cooked a full-blown Mexican Feast for my dorm friends and they loved it! People here think I can actually cook!! (no Southern Belles to compete against, phheeew).

3. As part of the college dorm experience, my flatmates decided to set the fire alarm off last night at 11:30 p.m. It was a great opportunity to finally meet all those introverted people who now hate everybody in flat 1 because we woke them up in a school night. It was pretty hilarious.

4. I went to a formal dinner! It's like a super fancy, three-course dinner at the Castle. While we wear our robes. It's pretty ridiculous: they have a security guard making sure no one stands up or puts their elbows on the table. Yes, like an actual muscular security guard for that shit. And no, no one is allowed to stand up, not even to go to the toilet. You have to wait until the main guy, the master (apparently of the universe) gets up. These brits are pretty cray about tradition. Ironically, the conversation was as trashy as an episode of Geordie Shore.




5. I went to my college's soccer try-out and actually did really well, so I'll be able to play intramural soccer. Except my hip is a mess. But that's why I'm going to the doc doc in 2 days!

6. I was invited to join a book club at church. I don't like the idea of reading an extra book, but I do love the fact that I was invited by a local. Maybe I'm doing something right?

Parenthesis: you know when people call a quirky person "an old soul." I don't think that's what an old soul is. My idea of an old soul is a person that gets along better with people who are much older (who could be your mom or your grandparent). So, me. Although I must say... I seem to have the ability to connect with people of all ages except those in my own age cohort (22-28). Ah well, my mom knows I'm not normal. 

7. I ate Indian food for the first time and I loved it!!!

8. I got to go on a night tour of Durham Cathedral and it was awesome AND they finally did let us take some pictures, which is remarkable. To make it even better, I went to this tour with a Sikh. L O L

9. I was asked to join the church choir! I know, amazing, right? Except I would have to go to the mass at 6:30 p.m. and walk home, alone, after mass, in the dark, lonely streets of Sunday Durham. On a quick note: Monday morning Durham is quite a sight to see: puke on the street, beer-piss odor, gloomy and hungover town--a reflection of its inhabitants.

10. I bought an umbrella for cheap, lost it at the bus station, and had a friend find it, a few hours later, in the same spot where I had left it and bring it back to me. What an amazing feeling!

Small Triumphs and Gigantic Failures in the UK... powered by The Office gifs

Greetings and Salutations!

Allow me to apologize for not having posted anything in the past.... three days. Oh, that's right, I HAVE BEEN POSTING. It's just that my readership has gone significantly down. I know who you are. 

Anyway, the tide is turning and I am slowly getting used to this life--except for the fact that the town dies of old age every Sunday at 5 p.m. only to resurrect Monday morning, hung over and worried about school assignments. 

On that note, let's recap what's been going on in a little segment I like to call... Small Triumphs and Gigantic Failures.

1. Small Triumph: going to Tesco (Wal-mart equivalent) and finding a small Mexican food section (food that we would deem Tex-Mex in the US, but it will do). Products include: flour tortillas, pickled jalapenos (yaa-llaa-pee-noes, as they call them here), sour cream "topping" (which I will be trying soon), guacamole "topping" (hell no), fajita seasoning, and canned refried beans. PRAISE GOD!

2. Gigantic Failure: I tried for the University's soccer team. With no ACL and all. So you can imagine this over-weight, out-of-shape Mexican (who is terrified of rough sport contact and soccer balls flying at a great speed) running around trying to look busy in the field. Also, about 6 years older than the majority of the team. Anyway, I figured I'd give it a try, and I "convinced" myself that I was going to be fine if I didn't make it to the team (which I knew deep down I wouldn't). Yet, we got the email saying "thanks but no thanks" yesterday and my little competitive ego got mortally wounded. 

3.  Small Triumph: I am a badass at economizing. I have had zero money for the past 5 days and I have manage to be absolutely fine. I used my last 40 pounds for groceries and have not been going to any restaurants. My student loans should come in about 10 days. Can you say fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-cha-ching!

4. Gigantic Failure: seeing people here who remind me of people back home SO MUCH but being unable to actually say WHO they remind me of.

5. Small Triumph: classes are only every fortnight. Only have four classes. The break down: odd weeks I only have class on Thursdays for two hours; even weeks I have class Monday, Tuesday, and Friday, two hours each day. This blog ain't going anywhere.

6. Gigantic Failure: I fell. In the middle of the street. Slowly, all the way to the ground. While wearing my expensive "walking boots."

7. Small Triumph: I cooked! I cooked chicken and pasta with a special chipotle sauce. My mom's recipe. First time doing it and it was delicious. My flatmate ate some too:

To be fair, he is Indian. He knows nothing of Chipotle sauce.

                                     He just wanted free food... bastard. 

8. Gigantic Failure: I shopped for clothes without trying them on... turns out, the size 12 here for blouses is like a size 6 in America. Can't even get my wrist through the sleeves. 

9. Small Triumph: I found a parish and have been attending regularly. I met the priest and some of the people of the Catholic Society. I also had Soup Lunch on Friday with some of the parishioners. Might not have known anyone, but I felt at home.

10. Gigantic Failure: I hung the picture of Our Lady of Guadalupe above my bed using some self-adhesive hook I bought. It fell on me in the middle of the night. Didn't even last up there 24 hours.

11. Small Triumph: the city market. It's like your favorite flea market... British version. I bought some locally produced bacon. And a little shopping basket with wheels so I don't have to cut my wrists with heavy plastic bags.

12. Gigantic Failure: my little trolley for shopping. The streets of Durham are not the most evenly smooth streets. So my little shopping cart tips over... all the time. And the groceries fall out. And I paid 15 pounds for the thing.

13. Small Triumph: I'm walking somewhere between 5 to 10 miles each day. Which means I can eat, like... forreals. It's comforting to know that I won't put on weight (losing weight is out of the question--try walking 5 miles every day and see if you're not starving all the time).

14. Gigantic Failure: I have not been able to do ANY work since I arrived to Durham. I can't read for more than 30 minutes without falling asleep. What am I going to do?

Friday, 27th of September… A day that will live in infamy.

We head to the Castle early in the morning for coffee and a brief introduction to the college. Blah blah blah, we are the best, who wants a rape whistle? Take this invisible marker that works only with UV light and mark all your stuff, beware of people throwing eggs from cars, more blah blah blah, the “chaplain” (a woman “priest”) is here to drink tea with you when you need someone to talk to, and more blah blah. Apologies, the blah is just to fill in the parts where I couldn’t understand what people were saying. Still trying to get used to the accent.

After that comes the good part of the day: A tour of the Castle. It was glorious. Dutch tapestry from the 17^th century, Romanesque architecture from the 11 and 12^th centuries, a medival underground chapel with amazing Anglo-Saxon engravings on the walls and columns. The oldest continuing running kitchen in Europe. IN EUROPE. A kitchen that has not stopped working one single day since the 12^th century. Go figure (naturally I would kill to work there).

Anyway, turns out that the castle is a hodge-podge of architectural styles because it used to be the prince bishop’s palace for the Catholic Church and later the Church of England, and each bishop really wanted to out-do his predecessors and make the castle more badass. The castle was donated to Durham University in the 19^th century and now is Castle (University) College. Because of the engravings on the columns in the medieval underground chapel, the castle is a World Heritage Site (the Cathedral is as well).

Picture of the amazing Anglo-Saxon Chapel

In short, what a wonderful day it was.

Except....

I walked around 1.5 miles carrying 5 heavy bags of groceries. Need I say more? It was so painful my whole body cried uncontrollably.

I thought I was going to get stigmata because them plastic bags were cutting into my skin so bad. You might think, "hey, listen, 1.5 miles isn't that bad." BUT LISTEN. My bags were easily 20 pounds... and the trek home is on a fairly steep slope. It was all poor planning on my part, and it made me wish I was dead. I flicked off a bus that didn't stop for me. It wasn't its stop... I just wanted it to stop specifically for me. Clearly, I was delirious. 

When I finally got home (drenched),  all I wanted to do was sleep. BUT NO, my heart kept saying “go to the international students party, you will regret not going.” Freaking FOMO. 

Well, now you know better, dummy. Don't listen to your stupid heart. Not going to lie, it was a great party. But I walked like two miles in high-heeled boots to get there. ALONE. And when you are by yourself, parties suck. That’s that.

There was karaoke, dancing, drinking, socializing. It was awful.

The truth is I was trying to find a way back home as soon as I got to the party. Luckily for me (not), I ran into the only other Mexican in Durham, who happens to live in my building. I asked if I could share a cab with him and his friends and he said “of course!!!”

AT LAST, I WAS GOING HOME!!

Except we had to make a little stop. At a club. For clubbing. For many hours. It was horrifying.

Because, you know me, I hate clubs and all. But this club was scarily packed AND had the heating on. It was a sauna in there. Girls with booty shorts (practically thongs) and some gay guy groping one of the guys I had just met...just post-apocalyptic chaos. Did I already mention it was horrifying? It made me want to take a blanket and pillow and go to sleep at the feet of the Tabernacle inside the nearest Catholic church, in the fetal position.

I waited and waited. Worse part is that I could tell there were people among this little entourage that soooooo didn’t want to be there, but they wouldn’t say anything.

We are a peculiar set of beings, us humans.

So, at 12:30 a.m. I broke my chains and said F**** IT, I’M GOING HOME!! And no one seconded me on that, so I went home alone. As I was waiting for the cab, a drunkard came my way and tried to help me.

Drunkie: Heeyee, ye lost? Wheredyou live?

Cris: Keenan House (You think I’m going to tell a drunkard where I live?)

Drunkie: don’t be… I’m juss tryna help. What college are you?

Cris: University College.

Drunkie: But whissssch college?

Cris: University. That’s my college.

Drunkie: Here in Durham? But whissschhh college?

Cris: oh, there’s a taxi. Good bye now.

Transition to:

Taxi Driver: where are you from?

Cris: Mexico, but live in USA.

Taxi Driver: how old are you?

Cris: twenty-six.

Taxi Driver: errr.... are you married?

Cris: .............................................................hmm....no.

Taxi Driver: but...eerrr... you have boyfriend in America?

Cris: 

"yes.... My boyfriend is in America."

Made it home. Thanked Jesus. Lights out.

Chapter 1: This is the best title I could come up with.

Dear reader,

Allow me to attempt to remember what has transpired in the last four days. I knew this would happen--I waited and waited to write this post and now I don't remember shite. Therefore, this post might sound like I am high--literary people like to call this "stream of consciousness."

Wednesday, 25th of September.

After hours of struggling with my luggage, I decide to check an extra bag with British Airways for a modest (ridiculous) amount of money. When I get to Durham, I will regret this--you will find out why.

I get to the airport in good time, with all my crap, and check in. My bags weight more than they should, but the nice British lady pretends they're only 50 lbs. (in her defense, they were only around a pound over). I have a sad moment in which I say goodbye to me parents (yes, me, not my) and then they both give me their blessing.

By this point, I am pretty convinced this was a bad idea. I mean, I love my family, I love my house. Why would I want to leave all that? And have to pay for it? WHAT'S WRONG WITH ME?!!?!? Anyway, the thing is done, what can you do, right? Moving on. I go through security and I get on the escalator to get to the top level where the gates are. As I am going up the escalator, I can see my parents on the other side of the glass wall dividing the security checkpoint from the terminal. And as they look at me going up, they do this:

They love me. Blame me for it. I taught them well.

I go now and wait for a billion years at the gate, trying to use the crappy airport wi-fi--oh that's right, THEY DON'T HAVE ANY. You get a crappy 45 minutes of "free" wi-fi by a company called boinking or something like that. 

TURNS OUT, NO BOOK APP ON A TABLET WORKS WITHOUT THE INTERNET. EVEN IF YOU BOUGHT THE BOOK. Great, what a huge waste of money that was (you will find out why).

Finally we board the huge plane. And, of course, a douchebag enters the scene. 

[Enter Cris, with a large carry on, attempting to put on overhead bin of plane. She sees half of the overhead bin is occupied with a small laptop bag and a jacket]

Cris: Hi, yes sir, do you think I could possibly put my bag there and then your bag and jacket on top of my suitcase?

Douchebag:

Me:

[Douchebag thinks he's being so generous he must make a big fuss about getting up from his seat to move his jacket himself.]

Douchebag [with a slight French accent--duh]: But, where am I going to put my jacket?

[Cris loses her shit]

Cris: YOU KNOW WHAT? Just forget it man. [takes bag to the other side of the gigantic plane].

SCENE.

Note: it is important to mention that by this time I already had a psedo-British accent. What the hell is wrong with me, you ask? I know not, to be honest.

Well, so I get in my seat. Sit next to a lovely British couple who say absolutely nothing to me the whole way. I attempt to sleep. Watch Monsters University (eh), watch  Robot & Frank (ugh), break my neck trying to sleep, then I stare at the North Pole (yes, we flew very high up north... though it was probably just Canada). I don't see much there. 

Finally get to London. I see a castle from the plane. It was UNBELIEVABLE. Not sure if it is Buckingham or what--I'm sure there is more than one castle.  Then, I get off the plane (after the one million years that it took me to find my bag on the other side of the plane) and realize that I am running kind of late. And that "kind of late" becomes REALLY LATE once I can't figure out where to go to catch my flight to Newcastle. To top it off, Immigration is slow and the security checkpoint is very crowded. The gate is supposed to close at 1:20. I leave the security checkpoint at 1:17. 

I get to the gate at 1:20. And people are barely starting to board the plane.

Note: British people are not as strict about time as Americans are. 

Get on my plane and sit next to a GHETTO British guy who is wearing girly shoes that look kinda like crocs with cargo shorts and a winter vest. He is also wearing sunglasses the whole time and has his headphones AND HIS PHONE ON THE WHOLE TIME, EVEN WHEN WE WERE SUPPOSED TO TURN IT OFF. He also mumbles "we're fucking late" as we wait in a line of planes to take off.

GREAT FIRST IMPRESSION, BRITAIN. 

Thank God Jane Austen taught me better.

Finally, I arrive at Newcastle. Yikes. Tiny airport... sort of dirty-looking. But it's ok--OH! THERE, DO YOU SEE THEM KIDS WITH THE PURPLE HOODIES?!?!?! DURHAM REPS, BABYYY!!!

Then I meet this really sweet Chinese girl, and I have a bus buddy for the rest of the way :)

The rest of the way being like three extra hours because we wait for ever for other people.

The driver of our bus is very GEORDIE. VERY. I couldn't understand a word he said. But he sang and whistled and was funny, so I liked him. 

AT LAST, we get to Durham, County Durham, United Kingdom. 

As you get the first glance of the Cathedral, your heart stops. Then you see the Castle, and you may or may not crap your pants. It's a Castle, and you'll get to eat inside of it because you got switched last minute to "university college" which is based off the castle.

Parenthesis: UK universities work in a "college system." Durham is divided up in 16 colleges that have nothing to do with academics. Depending of your college is where you live. So, basically, "college" is what we in the States call dorms.  I was originally accepted into St. Cuthbert's Society, but ultimately got switched to University College, which is the oldest college of this university and is, as previously stated, based off of this 12th century (that's right) castle. 

When I finally reached my dorm, Brackenbury (the name of the building--make yourself familiar with it because it sounds freaking awesome), it was 6:15 pm, and a bunch of strangers that live at Brackenbury were going to a bar, so naturally I flung my luggage into my room and went with them. Little did I know that, later that night, I would be freezing my arse off over a coarse mattress that had no sheets, pillows, or blankets because I didn't buy anything that day. Keep in mind, however, that every store but one in the whole bloody town closes at 5 or 6 p.m. And I thought Conroe was bad. 

We went to a bar and I ordered this little sucker...

Not too shabby. 

Right around the time I realized I hadn't had food since 8 in the morning,  they invited us up to have dinner at the GREAT HALL (of the Castle, of course). DANG TO THE DANG TO THE DANG. I was wearing jeans, you guys. And I hadn't showered for a whole day. 

(the Queen was at the Castle two years ago, by the way, for her Diamond Jubilee...yes, that's bleeping awesome).

After that, we went back to the Undie (bar at the Castle, underground) until I begged enough people to go back home (I hadn't slept, you guys). 

I showered, put on layers of clothes, and went to sleep. Fell off the bed twice--F****** MATTRESS!!

Parenthesis:

Summary of my dormitory.

Ground level with a big window--beware thieves and always change in bathroom.

Dark blue curtains with a spot of... I want to say "salsa," on them.

Ugly light-colored "wood" furniture. 

Single bed--killing me.

Nice desk. Good reading lamp.

No wi-fi... not a laptop computer if you can't move it from the desk because of the internet cable.

Bathroom is nice BUT toilet takes up an insane amount of energy to flush. You have to say a prayer, gather all your strength, and hit that lever like it's a hammer at a county fair and you're trying to win a stuffed animal. 

NO CLOSET. Just a small armoire. See why I shouldn't have brought so much stuff from home?

I apologize for the fact that I'm not actually posting a lot of pictures. I have no internet on my phone and my computer doesn't detect the pics when I connect my phone through USB drive. Kill me now. But, to make it up to you, here's some pics of the Cathedral (used my digital camera instead).