A day trip to Wales!

Today, Kristin's friend Diane - a British ex-pat - took me to the town of Wales, Mass. There's nothing particularly special about Wales, Mass but I wanted to be able to say I'd gone there!

Diane lives in the town of Oxford, which is about a twenty-five minute drive from Northbridge. I'd resolved to get there under my own steam; no easy task considering I've previously only driven on actual roads a total of four times, under careful supervision and for very short distances. Actually, I think my previous fears were just that - completely in my head - as I completed the journey (even navigating lucky dip truck drivers doing silly things) with ease, feeling relatively relaxed and enjoying both the sunshine and the aural delights being delivered to me courtesy of WAAF FM: Disturbed, The Offspring, Metallica and Godsmack.

Diane's home is stunning - set on a corner plot of a peaceful lane, it is surrounded by beautifully landscaped gardens, with a small waterfall cascading towards the decking area. Inside it is lovely and light and airy, with white walls, natural wood and neutral furnishings. She has a cat who could be the twin of my Willow - grey and white, with a dainty face. It is a peaceful home and I instantly felt relaxed there.

Diane drove us to the historic town of Sturbridge for lunch and then onto Wales itself. Most locals don't actually seem to know much about Wales; I guess there's not really any need for them to go there. It is, in actual fact, a rather pleasant little town (although, geographically, it's really not that small). Most towns here look rather alike: they have a centre which consists of a green (either sporting a bandstand or a flagpole); a town hall; a library and at least one (probably white slatted and very pretty) church. From this centre, roads spread in every direction. They will probably lead to a school, a police station and many, many forested roads dotted with large slatted houses, all individual yet also somehow rather alike. Wales is no exception to this. It even has its own lake with natural beach, which is another common feature of the towns here.

The only thing seemingly lacking from Wales was a shopping area or eating establishments (most towns have a smattering of pizza places/ a Dunkin' Donuts/ McDonald's/ Burger King/ a quirky cafe and/ or diner plus a small retail park, akin to Newport Road in the 'diff, or those in Merthyr or Cwmbran. Not that I minded this: unlike most of my gender, I hate shopping!

Diane and I explored the local cemetary, looking for Welsh names and concluded that the town had, in actual fact, acquired its name from a founder called Mr Wales (as there was a gravestone engraved with this very name). We also found a family plot reminiscent of the opening to Great Expectations: the graves of a mother and father, next to five small stones - those of their infant children.

After a delicious meal with Diane and her husband, I navigated my way back to Northbridge - in the dark and via a gas station, where a pump attendant filled my tank for me! I found it hard to get away from the attendant as he seemed fascinated by my reason for being there (as in, in New England, as opposed to in the gas station filling my car with petrol), asking me endless questions. I left to his assurances that I was going to be brilliant teaching here and his best wishes. Driving home also went smoothly; the roads seemed very like those back home in the dark. And, of course, I had a further dose of aural pleasure. Good times!

Red Sox, Fenway Park, Boston

Me? Watching Sport?! Surely not…

On Saturday Michele and her friend John took me to Boston to watch the two biggest baseball rivals – the Rex Sox (Boston) and the Yankees (New York) play at the infamous Fenway Park Stadium. Not that we were actually *in* the stadium; tickets are hard to come by as every game sells out and most season ticket holders have to inherit their seats! Now, back home, I would never so much as entertain the idea of watching any sort of sport as it bores the (British) pants off me, but when in Rome and all that. Baseball is incredibly popular here, possibly more popular than any sport in the UK and so I’m glad that I was able to experience this one as it’s given me a far better insight into the local culture than I could otherwise have obtained.

The area surrounding Fenway Park was awash with all manner of red and navy Red Sox attire, with a peppering of dull grey Yankees shirts for good measure. Adorned in a borrowed Red Sox t-shirt, I fitted right in! The atmosphere was electric – something I’ve only ever previously experienced whilst at a gig. Fans filled the streets and the humid air was heady with the aroma of hot dogs. The excitement was tangible.

Being in a bar, with good food, drinks aplenty and a generous sprinkle of cheesy rock music helped to make the experience all the more enjoyable for me. I was fascinated by the game at first – trying to make sense of it, with Michele’s help. Our closest equivalent would be Rounders, I think. A Rounders game which lasts an average of three-and-a-half hours! The bar was packed with supporters, every eye riveted to the huge screens displayed at every available angle. They cheered loudly, clapped madly and sung along to whatever song was played when the Rod Sox were scoring. I was fortunate enough to see a good game – the Red Sox beat the Yankees 14-1. These two teams had already played each other the evening before (and they were to play again the following day, with each game’s score counting separately). When the game was finally over, everyone – except me, it seemed – broke into a rendition of ‘Sweet Caroline’, which I now understand to be something of a tradition (Michele gave me the film ‘Fever Pitch’ to watch as ‘homework’ but I only saw it after the event) and this was followed, much to my surprise, by the Dropkick Murphy’s ‘Tessie’. I had no idea that they were affiliated with the Red Sox or that ‘Tessie’ is some kind of unofficial theme song for when the Red Sox (finally) won (they’d had years and years of losing every game) back in 2004.

I don’t think I’ll ever be a sports fan but I’m really glad I got to experience the atmosphere – all-in-all, it was an enjoyable day!

Cape Cod

Top of the World**

One of the best experiences I have had thus far was a mini-holiday in Dennis, Cape Cod. As aforementioned, I’d been invited to spend a few days at a holiday rental with Michelle and it turned out to be just the tonic I needed to shake off my negativity and turn that corner: I found myself again, there on the beaches and with good company.

The drive up was pleasant – a distance roughly equivalent of Abergavenny to Exeter passed quickly. Michele was a brilliant companion and we chatted easily. We drove up at night and arrived at the sweet little cottage just after midnight. I immediately liked it: it was light, airy and, well, beachy! Inhaling the salty air whilst being caressed by the sea breeze, the change in my temperament was pretty much instantaneous. We settled in, nibbling on pretzels whilst we waited for the others to come home. When they did, I took an instant liking to Sharyn, Matt and Monique...who seemed equally pleased to meet the ‘Wale-ish’ girl (!)

I opted to sleep on the futon on the porch, as it was enclosed (and therefore private) and away from the noise of the fans. The sea breeze and welcoming quiet quickly lulled me into the best sleep I have enjoyed thus far, since leaving home. I awoke refreshed – and happy!

We breakfasted in the centre of Dennis. Cranberries are a local speciality (summat to do with providing sailors with vitamin C, I believe) and I enjoyed the buttermilk cranberry pancakes, though the portion was way to big to finish. The rest of the day was spent at West Dennis beach. Now, I have never been one for sitting on beaches as I never tan anyways and I’ve always preferred to explore. However, two days at the beach made for a nice change and I found the experience to be relaxing. Luckily for me, Scott, a fellow red-head, came armed with a large umbrella and we were able to enjoy sitting in the shade.

Being extremely self conscious, I was positively over-dressed for the beach in cut off leggings and a sun dress. I never show the general public my legs or shoulders, so I was shocked when I was ordered to remove my ‘pants’! Fearing Michelle’s wrath ( ;) ), I complied though that merely encouraged her to set off on a mission to get me down to my swimming costume. She won. I ended up in the sea – something I never thought I’d do – which was lovely and warm, though sadly quite shallow and with a rocky and seaweed-covered floor.

When we returned to the house, I discovered my new favourite thing: open air showers! I was a little reluctant to try it at first but actually it was very private and showering with the sky above you and the breeze on your skin is an experience I’d recommend to anyone.

That night, Michelle, Michele and I headed to a different beach, Mayflower beach, which is on the opposite side of Dennis – the Atlantic side as opposed to the bay. This beach has dunes which gently slope into the water and the sand is, well, sandier! It’s more of a Mediterranean beach: the sea is crystal clear. We lay on the sand and listened to the sound of the waves whilst gazing at the myriad of stars which studded the night sky, ooh-ing and ahh-ing at the shooting stars we observed. We even think we saw a comet. It was magical.

Day two saw a return to see the ‘sandier’ beach in daylight. It was beautiful and we spent another pleasant afternoon, in an out of the water. Miraculously, I escaped sunburn, though I have freckles in places I have never had freckles before! We ended the day with a lovely meal cooked by Michele on the grill before heading for home.

I slept. I laughed. I gained perspective: I shall now appreciate the opportunity I have been given.

** PM5K ;)

Stereotype(s) **

Thus far, the most common stereotypes folk here have for British people are:

1. We drive using kilometres.
2. We drink warm beer and pubs don’t have any ice to put in drinks.
3. We all have bad teeth!

Fascinating!

'When you are a skunk, you learn 'ow to 'old your breath for a long time.'

So said Pepe le Pew, and having smelt my first skunk when driving back from Boston t'other night, I can quite see why. Even when safely ensconced in a moving car, with the windows fully up, the stench was overpowering and lingered for a fair distance. I'm not even sure what an accurate comparison would be: it was like inhaling all the evil in the world. No wonder that cat kept running away!

Hiraeth

In a recent email from my mother, she commented that, for me, to feel homesick is almost to be expected - because of my nationality. 'It's a well known fact,' she wrote, 'that the Welsh take longer to settle in a new place than anyone else.' I pondered this for a while and concluded that she was probably right: after all, the Welsh language does have it's own word to express a deep longing for home, 'hiraeth'. If I were a better linguist I may know whether other languages have an equivalent. I suspect, however, that they don't: the sense of cultural identity is strong within any Welsh person; especially if that person is no longer in Wales!

Yet I do believe I've turned a corner; I'm settling, slowly, into my new environment but I think that hiraeth will remain within me until my feet are firmly back on the soil of my motherland.

When I went to University in Exeter, I distinctly recall that even though I loved my time there, an underlying hiraeth remained deep within me, calling me back to Wales once I'd graduated. It was also the only time in my life I'd actively listened to a Male Voice Choir! And funnily enough, when browsing some of Kristin's photos of the area around my house, I again began to 'hear' 'We'll Keep a Welcome in the Hillsides', a traditional Male Voice Choir song. A little bizarre, I agree, but I think the lyrics are poignant:


Far away a voice is calling,
Bells from memory do chime
Come home again, come home again,
They call through the oceans of time.

We'll keep a welcome in the hillside.
We'll keep a welcome in the Vales.
This land you knew will still be singing
When you come home again to Wales.

This land of song will keep a welcome
And with a love that never fails,
Well kiss away each hour of hiraeth
When you come home again to Wales.

Pondering...

When shopping for bits and bobs at a local supermarket with Amber earlier, I happened upon a British section on the shelves. Now, homesickess (which I now have in its most literal sense. Joyous.) is a funny old thing: for the first time in my life, a packet of Coleman's sauce and a tub of McVities chocolate digestives evoked strong emotions in me. It's ridiculous, I know, but the presence of something familiar (branding is different here, even on familiar brands, or the product is the same but the names have been changed*) was actually rather comforting, whilst simultaneously make me long for home even more (not that I ever actually eat Coleman's packet sauces, but still...). I wonder if that is a global phenomenon, or just my own eccentricity?!





* to protect the innocent.

Boston

** UPDATE**

I drove on actual roads today, without endangering myself or others. Result!

Falling to Pieces

I’ve now been in New England for just over a week, and in the States for almost exactly two weeks, and the honeymoon period has well and truly ended: this here FNM video pretty much sums up my current state of mind! That’s not to say that things here are awful – far from it. Everyone I’ve met has been incredibly welcoming, open and generous and I’ve been spoiled by their generosity. I couldn’t possibly have a stronger support network, on either side of ‘The Pond’. Yet, despite all this, I am struggling with the thought of being here, or, more specifically, being apart from my loved ones, until Christmas: right now, I desperately want to come home!

True to the theme of my (recent) life passing in a blur, this past week has been incredibly busy. Kristin has shown me around her town and introduced me to a plethora of locals, paving the way for me before she leaves for the UK. We’ve run endless errands…and I’ve been introduced to my new classroom and to driving, US-style. It was at the point where I was in the school ‘parking lot’, struggling with Kristin’s SAAB, that I began to fear that everything was not, in fact, going to be fine. Driving here terrifies me: everything is so unfamiliar and I am scared that even having mastered the basics, I am somehow going to end up causing an accident by automatically heading for what I perceive to be the ‘right’ side of the road (as opposed to the *right* side of the road, which is where I absolutely should be driving!). I also had a go at driving her son’s automatic Saturn, which was much easier to get to grips with, though I still find that I’m reluctant to attempt the open road. Having always been highly independent, the reliance I have had on others thus far (nothing’s really in walking distance) hasn’t helped my state of mind!

As a platinum card holder in perfectionism, failure isn’t an option. But the inability to immediately feel confident driving here did chip my confidence, a chip that quickly became a chasm after I’d been talked through the curriculum I’ll be teaching in a few weeks’ time. The education systems in the US and the UK couldn’t possibly be more different. The focus here is very much on teacher assessment: pretty much EVERY assignment/ homework carries some credit towards the students’ grade average, which they need to pass the year (and if they don’t, they re-sit the year). If a student isn’t graded for something, they aren’t likely to do it. And grades come in a myriad of forms: homework, quiz, vocab quiz, test…and that’s before you get to the *actual* exams, like MCAS! Each have a certain percentage of the overall grade and there are ‘rubrics’ (English department: these are similar to our matrices!) for the type of assignment given. Grades equal a score out of a hundred. There are also textbooks for pretty much everything. Add to this mix a timetable which rotates through A to G days, seemingly at random and you will pretty much get the formula which sparked my allusion to Faith No More’s classic tune. We were told we’d feel like a newly qualified teacher: I feel like a newly qualified teacher who was just handed a teaching certificate when all I’d actually been doing is watching endless re-runs of Jeremy Kyle. I want to do a good (neigh – a bloody fantastic) job here, to make my own school and family, and friends proud but right now, I’m simply terrified.

I believe my current desire to say, “you know what, I can’t do this” and make for the nearest airport is born largely from my fear of failure, but also from the fact that I’m really not coping with being apart from those I care about most…[/emo] But I wouldn’t want you to think this week has been all diagonal floppy fringes and shoe-gazing – far from it.

Kristin threw welcome/ leaving ‘cook out’ on Thursday where I was welcomed and spoiled by her closest friends and colleagues. I was given a host of lovely cards and gifts from my colleagues: a Yankee candle with the scent of ‘Home Sweet Home’, a real (and I’m assured, much coveted) American League baseball, a fantastic super-sized mug adorned with Massachusetts/ Boston colloquialisms and a book of the area, so that I can decide where I want to go! Everyone reassured me that they’re going to be there for me and that I’m going to be brilliant (oh, how I wish I could believe that!!). I got further offers of tour guides and visits, plus a place to go for Thanksgiving.

On Friday, I was taken to Boston by Michelle and Michele (the former has invited me to the Cape next week and the latter will be driving me there – what lovely and generous people) for dinner, a stroll and dessert in a fab café in the Italian quarter. We saw a street festival too (the slideshow of the evening should appear above this post). Saturday saw more generosity, this time from my colleague-to-be Amber and her husband Adam, who enabled me to get to WalMart and took me to meet their friends over drinks and dinner. They then dropped me at The Raven, Worcester, where I met Michele and her friends to watch no less than four rock/ metal/ punk bands (\m/). I even scored a free pass to the next gig night!

I am therefore trying to focus on these (most excellent) experiences and the fact that I should be making the most of this opportunity, in the hope that everything will be ok in the end…as someone entirely anonymous once said: 'Everything will be okay in the end; if it's not okay, it's not the end’

Home Sweet Home...

'My heart's like an open book
For the whole world to read...'

Motley Crue


After a mere 48 hours of being in New England, it does indeed feel like home: I could have been here for months! From the minute I arrived at Logan Airport in Boston, I immediately felt at ease. Being met by Christina and her boyfriend helped - just like with Kristin, I immediately connected with them and from the moment we hugged hello, it was as if I'd known them for years. I was immensly grateful for the help with my luggage, too! The journey to Northbridge revealed a beautiful landscape: endless shades of green, golden in the sunset. The slatted houses and picket fences are really pretty and the whole area is peaceful. I feel safe here.

Just like Washington, everything is on a bigger scale and houses are enormous! Kristin's dogs - two beautiful golden retrievers - are also enormous and being very much a cat person, I hope I'm going to be able to handle them alone! On Saturday, Kristin took me to a party which could have been taking place on the set of 'Desperate Housewives' - the road looked just like it! The house was simply stunning, and so big mine could probably fit inside the garage(!) There was also a pool in the back garden (or 'yard'), which is normal here. I got introduced to lots of people, all of whom were incredibly friendly and welcoming; I have several offers of a place to go if I feel lonely and a list of people who want to take me out and show me places, which is fantastic. I was also introduced to a Year 6 student who has just been awarded a place on an 'Ambassador' programe - he'll be visiting all four corners of the UK next July - and his reaction to being told my nationality was astounding. He could not have appeared more awed or excited to be talking to me if I'd been introduced as a film star...or possibly even God! It was a very surreal scenario...I could get used to it ;)

The party had a live rock/ blues band playing on the lawn, which, upon discovering I rather like the Foo Fighters, dedicated 'Times Like These' to me. I had to go on the mic first though, and say my name and a few sentences so they could all hear the way I talk - and people keep repeating the things I say, mimicking my accent, which is also surreal. Everyone seems genuinely interested though, which is nice (even if I was mistaken for an Australian at one point!!). I'm also learning American colloquialisms, and may post a brief list at some point, if I have time. I also had my first real American hot dog (which doesn't look especially appetising but tastes great) and burger (which was out of this world), plus shrimps (king prawns to the UK contingent reading this) and clam chowder, which was yummy. Clam chowder is a typical dish here, as are steamed clams and lobster (both of which I tried today, by another pool, this time olympic-sized) but my favourite food at the time of writing has to be the pecan pie!

So what's it like here? I hate to repeat myself, but it really is just like the films! I'm going to be living and working in what is essentially 'Pleasantville', fourty or so years after the town became technicoloured, I've been to a party in a 'Desperate Housewives' type house and I've even got shopping from the supermarket in a huge paper bag (which caused me much excitement, much to Kristin's bemusement). I've been fascinated by the wildlife: tree frogs, possums and hummingbirds. The people are the friendliest and most generous I've ever met - the lobster and clams dinner today occurred simply because I'd said at the party I'd never eaten either and everyone I've met has told me I'm welcome in their home anytime and that they're all here for me. Tomorrow, I get to see inside my new school, and have a go at driving, both of which should prove to be interesting experiences! That said, with such and incredible support network, and beautiful surroundings, I think I'm going to be just fine (...well, hopefully...).

I learned something today...

William James once said: ''Wherever you are, it is your own friends who make your world' and whilst I've always wholeheartedly agreed with him, my current circumstances have given his words added poignancy for me.

After only a few days with Kristin, I already feel like I've known her for years and I trust her implicitly; I feel we've developed a bond and from day one her very presence put me at ease. Our bond has, I feel, been strengthened through the events of the past week (which I *will* be writing about - eventually! Honest.) and through walking (and talking) non-stop for four-and-a-half hours through the avenues of Washington!

To remove yourself from everything and everyone you know for x number of months is exciting, but it's also scary. As I prepare to leave for Boston and my final destination of Northbridge, Mass later today, I do so with more excitement than fear. This is in part due to my emerging friendship with Kristin, but it's also largely due to the contact I've had with Kristin's friends.

I've mentioned this briefly already but the fact that several of her friends and colleagues befriended me via email and Facebook before I'd even left the UK helped me enormously: it took some of the uncertainty away and reassured me I would not end up isolated and lonely. And Kristin's friends have risen way beyond their call of duty. I hope they won't mind me naming them, but Amber and Christina's wishes of a safe and happy journey and Christina's offer of a lift from Logan airport meant a lot to me: I can now proceed with the last leg of my journey secure in the knowledge that I'll be met by a friendly face and without the stress of having to find my way to Northbridge. Having had many - albeit typed - conversations with Michelle, I feel I already know her - almost as well as Kristin, in fact - and I can't wait to meet her! She's the main contact who's been offering me specific events to look forward to and I suspect we're going to get along very well indeed :D

And last, but not least, there's my colleague-and-friend-to-be, Matthew. I am mentioning him last because he posted a comment on my Facebook wall last night that really touched me and will stay with me, even in my darkest moments (and there *will* be dark moments, because that's life). Hopefully, he won't mind me quoting (some of) what he wrote:

'We'll make it home for as long as you stay here'.

So there you go: I'm going home.

:D

Cymru Am Byth

So our last full day of Orientation is culminating tonight with a 'Cultural Fair'. Each country has to perform something representative of their culture. The UK Fulbrighters decided to break into groups that represent all four countries and the Welsh contingent (aka myself and Gil from Canton) plumped for 'A Pocket Guide to Wenglish': we'll role play a 'typical' Wenglish conversation (written by moi) and then peform it again using Standard English (marinally less embarrassing than performing 'I'm a Little Teapot', methinks, as the English are doing. Yes, they *really* are!). For those of you who have never heard of the term 'Wenglish' it's basically the dialect used by English-speaking Welsh people, which incorporates Welsh words and grammar. Here's our script:



A Hiya!
(Hello!)

B ‘right butt, how’re you, ‘en?
(Hello my friend, how are you feeling today?)

A ‘Been better, like – my bad leg’s been giving me gyp again
(I have felt better, in all honesty – my injured leg has been causing me discomfort.)

B Fair dos, you’ve had that bad leg for yonks. You under the doctor?
(Oh my, you have been suffering with an injured leg for a long time now, poor you. Have you consulted a doctor?)

A Aye, but she’s proper didoreth like and a bit twp.
(I did indeed visit my GP but sadly she’s rather useless and more than a little stupid.)

B Is it?
(Really?)

A Aye
(Yes)

B Dew! It’s tamping down out there!
(Goodness me, it is raining heavily outside!)

A No change there then! Look – there’s Dai the Milk; he’s carrying on with Shinko’s girl now.
(It’s always raining in Wales (!) Look – I can see the milkman called David, who has recently started a relationship with Mr Jenkins’ daughter.)

B Where’s he to, ‘en?
(Where is he? I can’t see him.)

A He’s over by there!
(He’s standing there!)

B Oh aye, so he is. So, pub later, is it?
(Oh yes, I can see him now. So, would you like to accompany me to the pub later?)

A Tidy.
(I certainly would like to accompany you to the pub, yes.)

B ‘gis a cwtch then.
(I would like a hug goodbye.)

A + B Ta ra
(Goodbye.)


...I'll be glad when it's over!

I'll post more on Orientation when I have time: I have a role play to learn ;)

Cymru am Byth! ( which roughly translates as 'W(h)ales Forever' - the more observant of you will understand my addition*) :)


** Update**

So I survived the cultural dinner...just! It took all my willpower to get on that stage as lots of people were photographing the participants and those of you who know me will understand just how badly I wanted to run far away, in the opposite direction, at that point (Gil wouldn't let me out of her sight though. Foiled!) Our Wenglish sketch seemed to go down well though and the overall UK presentation (performed as if it was an episode of 'Britain's Got Talent'. Scotland won...we were a close second) was, according to the British Council peeps, the best they'd EVER seen!!!!1! Go us! I also got told by all members of a large American exchange family that they thought the Wenglish act was one of the best of the night; they'd 'voted' for us and thought we were really funny. Oh yes! *smug face* Personally, I enjoyed watching the other cultural presentations more, especially when they involved dancing.

Orientation proved to be an interesting week. I thoroughly enjoyed getting to know Kristin and meeting my fellow Fulbrighters from the US, France, The Czech Republic, Turkey, Ghana, India, Hungary, Mexico, Switzerland (apologies to any country I can't recall at the mo'). However, I would have liked more 'quality' time with both them and Kristin as opposed to sitting in endless lengthy lectures on the education system in the US and how to teach effectively (...) For those exchange partners who were heading to their respective posts on the Friday, there must have been a great deal of uncertainty as we were only given two and a half hours of allocated partner time all week: I feel fortunate to have ten further days with Kristin. Organised events, such as the bus tour of 'DC, would, I feel have been far more productive and effective. Kristin and I learned far more about each other and our exchange in the four-and-a-half hours we were browsing the museums and walking the streets of 'DC whilst chatting than we would have in any number of lectures. Still, I got to see a lot of the city, have dinner in Georgetown and attend *the* club to go to, so it was all good really!

* pro-tip: look *really* closely at the picture: comments welcome!

Root beer is liquid Germoline. Fact.

The Next Chapter...

As I write this, from my room at the Renaissance M Street Hotel in Washington DC, my first day of Orientation is drawing to a close. I find it hard to believe I’m actually here! My last month in the UK passed with ridiculous speed – a whirl of organising, sorting, cleaning and saying goodbye. The goodbyes were by the far the hardest part. Even though I know the next few months will probably pass far too quickly and I’m embarking on the experience of a lifetime, leaving my loved ones – especially my boyfriend, Ry – was the hardest thing I have ever had to do. I don’t think I’ve ever been so emotional; certainly not openly so.

Having been ill in the final weeks of school, the last week of term was an organisational blur. I was pleased with my final efforts though and am confident that I’ve left everything in good order for my exchange partner, Kristin. I was reminded of just how fantastic my department are when I was lured, under false pretences, into my Head of Department’s classroom to find they’d organised a ‘half birthday’ party for me as they won’t see me before my actual birthday on December 23rd. I was spoiled with an incredible range of presents – most of which were geared towards my travels – some lovely cards and a huge strawberry and cream meringue cake. I love my colleagues to bits anyway, but the fact that they’d done that for me made it very hard for me to retain my composure; I was genuinely surprised and very touched. My brilliant prefects, Bonnie and Sasha, also surprised me with flowers, chocolates, a card and a ‘Travelling Tunes’ CD which had been made with a great deal of thought and I certainly wasn’t expecting any of it: I don’t think I can adequately express just how much these gifts meant to me. It was great sadness that I closed the door on my classroom for the final time this year.

The past two weeks have been hectic. Obtaining car insurance for Kristin proved to be the most challenging process of the exchange so far but we worked together and many, many phone calls later we finally secured a policy. I made endless lists and methodically worked through them to ensure I had done everything possible to ensure I was ready to live and work in the US and that my house was ready for Kristin and Micaela to live in. In between ticking off items on my list, I spent as much time as possible with my parents, friends and Ry. The actions and reactions of my friends over the past couple of weeks has reminded me just how lucky I am to have them, and also affirmed that I am as important to them as they are to me – and as much as I miss them, that’s an unexpected bonus: I don’t think enough people have the opportunity or inclination to stop and reflect on the value of their relationships with others. This process has forced me to do so. I know that I will never, ever take them for granted.

Despite my growing sadness at the prospect of leaving those dear to me, my excitement began to build with each message I received from Kristin’s friends and colleagues, wishing me a safe journey and offering, in effect, their friendship to me before they’d even met me: I have, for example, been invited for a few days to a holiday home on Cape Cod in the coming weeks. Their generosity and kindness has helped me enormously: they have given me specific events to look forward to and I cannot wait to meet them.

When Monday 3rd of August arrived, I was forced to say the hardest goodbye of all. I never, ever want to experience that feeling again. Having barely slept, by the time I arrived at Heathrow I already felt shattered and emotionally drained. The United queue was huge and despite having a group booking, I had to wait in line even though the rest of the group – most of whom had stayed in a nearby hotel – were way ahead of me. We weren’t allowed to check in online and when we (or rather, I) finally reached check-in, we were told we wouldn’t be allocated seats until boarding, as during school holidays they only allocate seats to parents. Lovely. I must look somewhat dodgy, as I was the only one of my group asked to remove my shoes when passing through security (either that, or they’d heard of my dislike of any form of footwear and were kindly giving me a break from my trainers…somehow I think the former is the most likely explanation: airport staff universally appear devoid of a sense of humour). And thanks to United’s rather substantial queue, we barely had time to traverse the departure lounge before it was time to board our flight.

At boarding, we learned that we’d been upgraded from Economy to Premium Economy (which basically meant we’d still have fully functioning legs at the end of the flight. Hurrah), though two lucky sods were upgraded to Business Class. Alright for some. Having only travelled on planes with three seats either side of a central aisle, the Boeing 777 seemed huge to me – there was a bank of seats in the middle of the plane and two aisles. Typically, and as ascribed by the laws of a certain Mr Murphy, I’d been allocated a seat in the middle section, which was possibly the worst seat I could have been placed in; I like to see where I’m going! Luckily, a fellow Fulbrighter who wanted to sleep most of the way (I have an inability to sleep on anything that moves) swapped with me and I got a window seat, albeit one right on the wing! I made like a stereotypical tourist and photographed the view prior to taking off, the Lost Boy clouds part, an aerial view of Massachusetts, and several aerial views of our descent, including the Hudson river and touching down at Washington Dulles. The view was considerably more interesting than the so-called ‘in flight entertainment’ which consisted of a range of dire films and equally dire ‘music’ (ipods ftw), though I would never otherwise have known that Limp Bizkit’s ‘Nookie’ appears on the soundtrack for 17 Again…mainly as I would, under no other circumstances, have watched that film! Well, it’s trivia that *could* come in handy sometime. Maybe.

I’d been told to prepare myself for the fact that, despite having a common language and exposure to ‘American culture’ in the media, Britain and the US couldn’t be more different. This became evident to me from the moment we stepped off the plane: we were loaded on to…I don’t even have a word to describe what we were loaded on to; ‘contraption’ would be the first term that comes to mind: huge rectangular structures on wheels that appeared to have chimneys in them! We were then herded into long queues for immigration where I was tortured: after scanning in your fingerprints they take a photo. A happy bunny I was not. This wholly unpleasant experience was compounded by the fact that the immigration official seriously lacked interpersonal skills. I wasn’t exactly made to feel welcome! Luckily, my mood was somewhat improved by the fact that all my luggage met me at the airport (I’d read so many bad things about United that I’d packed all my essentials for Orientation in my carry-on bag!) and that the all-American guy at customs treated me like an actual human being and bid me welcome to the US. We finally emerged into the oppressive Washington heat (akin to stepping into an oven): the UK ‘cultural ambassadors’ reinforcing stereotypes by unanimously remarking on how hot it was!

Our transport to the hotel was some hybrid of a truck and a limo. As fascinating as this was, and as much as I wanted to absorb every part of the journey, to take in everything and store it for prosperity, by this point I was exhausted. Although only about 4pm, by my body clock it was 9pm and I’d been travelling since 6.30am, having barely slept. I’d been traumatised by separation and photographs and I badly wanted to reach my hotel room for some personal space. I think I’d reached the lowest point I have encountered as yet by this point: by the time I’d finally reached my (rather lovely) room all I wanted to do was cry. And then cry some more. I felt very, very alone and a little bit sorry for myself. I indulged in a brief spell of emo-ness and then forced myself to go and register.

The AED team, who run the Orientation programme, told me Kristin had been waiting for me (and that they love the word ‘brilliant’). I was also given some money and a Fulbright badge, Score! They helped me to look for her, to no avail. And then I heard my name. Or rather I heard ‘Samantha’, which I only really ever hear when my mother is angry with me! Despite this, I liked Kristin immensely from first sight. We hugged and chatted easily; I felt like she was an old friend and not someone I was meeting for the first time. Her friendly eyes and dazzling smile indicate she is a genuine, kind individual and I have no doubt whatsoever that she is going to fit right in at Fairfield; definitely within my department.

Day one of Orientation started, for me at least, in the computer room AED have provided for us (at the moment, the need to communicate with those back home as frequently as possible is strong within me). After a rather lovely breakfast and the most delicious illy moca (so delicious I imagine it must require some sort of health warning), we were given a lengthy talk by a collage professor on cultural differences. Lengthy would be the key word in that sentence! He did provide some interesting anecdotes and thinking points (such as comparing culture to an iceberg: it’s a person’s values, which may not be visible, which are the greatest part of their identity). This was followed by lunch and then a guided tour of Washington. The architecture here is fascinating; there are old houses preserved in their entirety yet (quite literally) surrounded by modern structures: they have become part of the new buildings. The oblisk at the Lincoln Memorial was especially striking and standing on the same steps where Martin Luther King gave his ‘I have a dream’ speech was quite a powerful experience. My only experience of the US to date is through films and tv programmes…and it all really is just like being in one! The tour was followed by a formal dinner with talks from a Senator of State and a descendent of Senator Fulbright and then a group of us spend a rather pleasant hour or so sitting outside a cocktail bar round the block from the hotel.

So what have I learned so far? Everything in America is on a large scale. The people too, are as I expected: the hotel staff are uber polite and accommodating (although the bus driver who took my bag qualified this gesture by explaining that he didn’t want me to fall and sue him!) and there is certainly a higher level of customer service. Conversely, I haven’t yet had a single “Have a nice day!” I’ve learned I really like the custom of instantly refilling your drink (free of charge) the moment it’s empty (or nearly empty) too. It’s magical! Whilst chatting at the bar with Kristin on our first night, I put down my glass and glanced back a few seconds later to find a brand new one in its place – at first I doubted my own sanity, wondering if I’d imagined drinking it (which was entirely possible in my discombobulated state). I definitely think the UK should follow suit! More importantly, I’ve learned that I couldn’t have been given a better exchange partner and I think I really *can* do this…only time will tell, I guess!