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rinueMy roommate Nadia is completely unaware that when she makes noise, the rest of us hear it - even though it is her and only her who is making it. When her alarm wakes us up, she is surprised. She yells all phone conversations, with as few pauses for breath as possible. From the occasional lapses into laughter and/or English, I am sure that despite her volume, she is not angry. Her phone's ringer is at maximum volume, and when she gets calls at three in the morning and I look at her phone, she is confused. I can't get mad at her, since it's so obviously not malicious - it's just some kind of cultural sound-blindness that I'm told is common in some areas of Eastern Europe.
I am still adjusting to the double cheek kiss that is the standard hello and goodbye here. I come from a land of hugging, or occasionally handshakes. When someone leans toward me, I start to put my arms up. I figure things out midway through the first kiss and relax. Then the second kiss starts to happen, and I am caught by surprise again. Then I get paranoid and wonder if it was a signal to hidden henchman that I am marked for death. I haven't really gotten the hang of it, and I'm pretty sure I'm doing it wrong. I hope people don't mistake my stiffness for revulsion, because it's really very nice to be kissed.
Similarly, I am confused about the etiquette of buying people tea or beer. People are always buying me tea or beer, and I don't tend to get the chance to offer back. Or I say "can I get you a cup of tea?" and they say "no," and so I don't. Only I think I might be supposed to get it anyway. Certainly, whenever people offer me things and I say "no thank you," they give me twice as much. It is a very strange country, and I worry that in my bewilderment I come off as some kind of freeloader who perhaps lives in a tree.
There was some kind of fashion event at the National Portrait Gallery on Friday, and it looked pretty cool when I stopped by, but I was too upset about a directing class that went poorly to really appreciate the people in platform heels and glittery antlers. I also barely missed Trafalgar Square being covered with turf for two days. I have taken a picture of them rolling the grass up, and will henceforth claim that I Photoshopped the whole thing.
I now know a critical mass of people in London, such that I regularly bump into someone I know when walking around and can no longer assume a cry that sounds like "Romie!" is actually "mommy." I ran into Jimmy* and his wife Rachel at the British Museum on Saturday, during an anniversary celebration for Britain's first colonies in the new world. Considering my ancestry goes back to Jamestown (and through Raleigh, illegitimately), I thought it prudent to attend.
There were some Elizabethan musicians playing cool instruments including a hurdy gurdy, which I managed to identify from written descriptions despite having never seen one before. The hurdy gurdy is like a 15th century synthesizer, or the string equivalent of a bagpipe; you turn a crank that spins a rosined wheel which does the bowing for you by rubbing against six strings as it rotates - three drone strings that provide accompaniment, and three keyed strings that play the melody. A spinning rosined wheel that does the bowing! Ingenious!
As long as I was there, I revisited the Museum's coin collection, which I've already seen three or four times; I'm a little obsessed with the history of anti-counterfeiting measures, perhaps because it's closely related to information security. (As in many other areas, Ben Franklin was particularly badass.) I also took in the Sutton Hoo artifacts, which included Anglo Saxon nail clippers and Q-tips. I normally try to avoid this area of the Museum, because I start lusting after the jewelry and getting crazy ideas. For instance, my tour guide had an excellent hair clip, and I had to keep my hands occupied with my notebook so I wouldn't try to steal it.
*Jimmy is my favorite of the screenwriters, and probably my favorite person at the school other than Alan (the head of the filmmaking program). He's kind, funny, and intelligent and loves a lot of the same stuff I do - particularly Primer. He and his wife are expecting their first child, which he's tremendously excited about. He's also a medical doctor who can answer all kinds of obscure science questions. He graduates after this term, and I'm really bummed about it. He was my first friend at the school; we started a conversation during the start-of-term party, and it's never really stopped.
I am still adjusting to the double cheek kiss that is the standard hello and goodbye here. I come from a land of hugging, or occasionally handshakes. When someone leans toward me, I start to put my arms up. I figure things out midway through the first kiss and relax. Then the second kiss starts to happen, and I am caught by surprise again. Then I get paranoid and wonder if it was a signal to hidden henchman that I am marked for death. I haven't really gotten the hang of it, and I'm pretty sure I'm doing it wrong. I hope people don't mistake my stiffness for revulsion, because it's really very nice to be kissed.
Similarly, I am confused about the etiquette of buying people tea or beer. People are always buying me tea or beer, and I don't tend to get the chance to offer back. Or I say "can I get you a cup of tea?" and they say "no," and so I don't. Only I think I might be supposed to get it anyway. Certainly, whenever people offer me things and I say "no thank you," they give me twice as much. It is a very strange country, and I worry that in my bewilderment I come off as some kind of freeloader who perhaps lives in a tree.
There was some kind of fashion event at the National Portrait Gallery on Friday, and it looked pretty cool when I stopped by, but I was too upset about a directing class that went poorly to really appreciate the people in platform heels and glittery antlers. I also barely missed Trafalgar Square being covered with turf for two days. I have taken a picture of them rolling the grass up, and will henceforth claim that I Photoshopped the whole thing.
I now know a critical mass of people in London, such that I regularly bump into someone I know when walking around and can no longer assume a cry that sounds like "Romie!" is actually "mommy." I ran into Jimmy* and his wife Rachel at the British Museum on Saturday, during an anniversary celebration for Britain's first colonies in the new world. Considering my ancestry goes back to Jamestown (and through Raleigh, illegitimately), I thought it prudent to attend.
There were some Elizabethan musicians playing cool instruments including a hurdy gurdy, which I managed to identify from written descriptions despite having never seen one before. The hurdy gurdy is like a 15th century synthesizer, or the string equivalent of a bagpipe; you turn a crank that spins a rosined wheel which does the bowing for you by rubbing against six strings as it rotates - three drone strings that provide accompaniment, and three keyed strings that play the melody. A spinning rosined wheel that does the bowing! Ingenious!
As long as I was there, I revisited the Museum's coin collection, which I've already seen three or four times; I'm a little obsessed with the history of anti-counterfeiting measures, perhaps because it's closely related to information security. (As in many other areas, Ben Franklin was particularly badass.) I also took in the Sutton Hoo artifacts, which included Anglo Saxon nail clippers and Q-tips. I normally try to avoid this area of the Museum, because I start lusting after the jewelry and getting crazy ideas. For instance, my tour guide had an excellent hair clip, and I had to keep my hands occupied with my notebook so I wouldn't try to steal it.
*Jimmy is my favorite of the screenwriters, and probably my favorite person at the school other than Alan (the head of the filmmaking program). He's kind, funny, and intelligent and loves a lot of the same stuff I do - particularly Primer. He and his wife are expecting their first child, which he's tremendously excited about. He's also a medical doctor who can answer all kinds of obscure science questions. He graduates after this term, and I'm really bummed about it. He was my first friend at the school; we started a conversation during the start-of-term party, and it's never really stopped.
