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Apr. 26th, 2007 12:38 amThe airport was much harder this time, and the packing. In the past, I've been good at making the last moments happy and regular, and a bit unreal. I've been accused many times, with some accuracy, of trying to duck out on any semblance of a goodbye, although I will stretch a "good night" for years if possible. However, this time, I was in tears pretty much start to finish and completely unable to banter. Ciro hugged me and petted me and fed me bits of blueberry muffin. I also burst into tears several times on the plane, which didn't bother anyone because it was an almost empty flight, exchange rates being what they are.
Once on the ground (the flight arrived ahead of schedule), it was a quick hop through airport security, even though I was kind of hoping they'd throw me out and was therefore overly brisk. Unfortunately, this endeared me to them. I got through immigration just as my luggage came out on the carousel. After that, it was an hour's slog through various sections of the Underground while carrying almost my body weight in clothing and electronics.
I am staying at the International Students House, which was founded just after WWI with the aim of stemming nationalism in young people by throwing them together with bright and friendly people from other nations. To stay here, you have to be a full time student at a respectable university, and to show a willingness to participate in the culture of the house - which has a cinema, music venues, billiards, a ballroom, and regular outings. It feels cheap, but friendly; it's basically a safe stopover. I've said that my living situation is what I've always imagined for travelling girls' orchestras in the '30s, but it's just as close to The Happiness Hotel. Which, come to think, was where Kermit and Fozzie stayed in London. Hmmmm.
I'm in a room with three other girls, one of which I haven't yet spoken to other than to ask her the time while she was on her way out the door, but the other two are nice and friendly. Nadia is a slavic (I'm not sure from where) fashion major who sleeps late, stays up late, and spends most of her time on her computer, which is pretty much what I do. Melissa is an Algerian pursuing a PhD in Economics, and she's pretty awesome - her thesis is on direct investment by rich countries in poor countries.
School doesn't start until Monday, so I've been busily getting things done. I've been much more effective than I expected, which sort of leaves me at loose ends. I mean, today I already got a phone, got my loans sorted, met Les Blair (who will be this and next term's tutor), got the number of the liason at the National Gallery, bought groceries, sent my first text message ever, set up internet, figured out how to work the shower, and made plans to meet![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
treehavn for the usual pint. All I have left to do is collect the stuff I left with Emma, and register my address with the bank and the NHS.
And, oh yeah, write some scripts so I have something to film when school starts.
My big challenge may be finding a good place in which to work, or rather, buckling down and getting some work done. I was definitely right to book a quad, though; it's good to be surrounded by people, and smack in the middle of the city. It makes it harder to feel lonely, and stops me from wistfully imagining what it would be like if Ciro would be here - it's a tiny cot in a room with three other people.
I of course still miss him terribly, although he's set up a webcam so I can see him when I talk to him. (Which makes it easy to notice that he's clever and handsome.) Although it's horrendously unlikely, I am hoping he'll be here by his birthday.
final notes:
- I am very glad I have a sleep mask.
- Chad rocks.
- On Tottenham Court Road, there is a gentleman's club called "Spearmint Rhino." Ciro and I have found no explanation for this name, although he found various overly serious websites about it. Thoughts? My best guess so far has been "our girls are horny and refreshing," but this is unlikely to be the real answer.
Once on the ground (the flight arrived ahead of schedule), it was a quick hop through airport security, even though I was kind of hoping they'd throw me out and was therefore overly brisk. Unfortunately, this endeared me to them. I got through immigration just as my luggage came out on the carousel. After that, it was an hour's slog through various sections of the Underground while carrying almost my body weight in clothing and electronics.
I am staying at the International Students House, which was founded just after WWI with the aim of stemming nationalism in young people by throwing them together with bright and friendly people from other nations. To stay here, you have to be a full time student at a respectable university, and to show a willingness to participate in the culture of the house - which has a cinema, music venues, billiards, a ballroom, and regular outings. It feels cheap, but friendly; it's basically a safe stopover. I've said that my living situation is what I've always imagined for travelling girls' orchestras in the '30s, but it's just as close to The Happiness Hotel. Which, come to think, was where Kermit and Fozzie stayed in London. Hmmmm.
I'm in a room with three other girls, one of which I haven't yet spoken to other than to ask her the time while she was on her way out the door, but the other two are nice and friendly. Nadia is a slavic (I'm not sure from where) fashion major who sleeps late, stays up late, and spends most of her time on her computer, which is pretty much what I do. Melissa is an Algerian pursuing a PhD in Economics, and she's pretty awesome - her thesis is on direct investment by rich countries in poor countries.
School doesn't start until Monday, so I've been busily getting things done. I've been much more effective than I expected, which sort of leaves me at loose ends. I mean, today I already got a phone, got my loans sorted, met Les Blair (who will be this and next term's tutor), got the number of the liason at the National Gallery, bought groceries, sent my first text message ever, set up internet, figured out how to work the shower, and made plans to meet
treehavn for the usual pint. All I have left to do is collect the stuff I left with Emma, and register my address with the bank and the NHS.And, oh yeah, write some scripts so I have something to film when school starts.
My big challenge may be finding a good place in which to work, or rather, buckling down and getting some work done. I was definitely right to book a quad, though; it's good to be surrounded by people, and smack in the middle of the city. It makes it harder to feel lonely, and stops me from wistfully imagining what it would be like if Ciro would be here - it's a tiny cot in a room with three other people.
I of course still miss him terribly, although he's set up a webcam so I can see him when I talk to him. (Which makes it easy to notice that he's clever and handsome.) Although it's horrendously unlikely, I am hoping he'll be here by his birthday.
final notes:
- I am very glad I have a sleep mask.
- Chad rocks.
- On Tottenham Court Road, there is a gentleman's club called "Spearmint Rhino." Ciro and I have found no explanation for this name, although he found various overly serious websites about it. Thoughts? My best guess so far has been "our girls are horny and refreshing," but this is unlikely to be the real answer.
