A lot has happened in the past several days and yet it feels like next to nothing has been accomplished, all at the same time.I am officially enrolled and scheduled my classes (which are only on Tuesdays...) and along the way I met some friendly and interesting people.
The first friend I made this week was before enrollment. I walked up to the front desk of the building, put on my Miss America smile, and kindly asked in which direction I could find the room for my International Orientation. Somehow I hadn't noticed the guy next to me, which now seems impossible because suddenly he turned to me and said, "Are you AMERICAN?" (This happens a lot, to which I usually smile and say yes, while inside I want to say that no actually, I was born and raised in Yorkshire or someplace of the like.) I smiled and politely replied yes, noticing the amazing oddity that stood before me.
He was a young black man--22 years old to be precise--who stood easily well over 6 foot. None of this would be entirely alarming except for his forearms. From the wrist to the elbow of each arm lay well over twenty bracelets a piece, each one slightly different from the one that proceeded it. There were crosses and tribal symbols, chunky wood beads and African looking bangles. I stood dumbstruck by the image in front of me, telling myself repeatedly not to stare when suddenly his arm was around my shoulder as he was telling the receptionist, "Don't worry, this is my American wife. I'll take her to her room." I laughed appropriately and, because it seemed I had no choice what with him being twice my size, walked off with this completely interesting and bizarre stranger.
He told me his name was Renni, or Remmi, or something like that...I'm still no good at understanding anyone that was born and raised outside of London. He kept his arm around my shoulder, rambling on about his job as head tour guide when I quickly realized we were in windowless corridors, vacant and alone. Stupidly the first thought I had was, "My mom will be so pissed if I go missing because of this crazy guy. She told me to watch 'Taken,'" so I gripped my keys firmly between my fingers, just like they teach you in self defense, and kept my eyes peeled for possible escape routes.
It turned out he was quite the nice guy; he showed me to my room and with a half an hour to spare, so then he offered to take me on a tour of campus and help me learn the layout. I asked him about the beads, which he explained were a tribal tradition that he found quite lovely, and then informed me that he is third in line for the throne of some Caribbean tribe. (He swore to me that this was true.) We had a nice talk while he tried to explain the winding hallways to me, as well as introduced me to the staff of the building's cafe, although I am fairly positive the tour might have been more to his advantage than to mine, seeing as he kept his arm around me and introduced me as his American wife like it was show and tell day at Uni. He even had me speak with some of his friends, as if my voice was the validation that he was officially cool for knowing an American girl. He was very friendly and very nice and I am sure I'll see him around again sometime, especially since he informed me that his acting troop periodically performs in the courtyard.
I met several other interesting people as well. I talked to a man from Karachi who has a cousin in Reynoldsburg, several people from a scattering of different US States, and a blind girl from Russia, who lived in Texas for the past few years and is craving Tex-Mex food just as much as me. (We're planning a girls night out to the old Texas Embassy, now one of the few Tex-Mex restaurants in London.) I've made friends with a girl named Lauren in my program, from Florida of all places, and took her to Greenwich yesterday where we devoured copious amounts of foods from varying countries at the market.
I know that people say it a lot, but you really won't find a bustling city with friendlier people than London. They are patient and helpful and always know exactly which bus you need to take to get you to your destination.
The cats here are a different story altogether.
I came home a few nights ago to a cat meowing outside my apartment door. She was a little tiger kitty and purred when I spoke to her, but the combination of my horrible allergies and the stern rules set in place by my landlord kept me from bringing her inside. (Don't worry its not as cold here as it is back home. Its actually in the 50s and feeling a little like spring.) Then, this morning, I woke to a low, guttural sound coming from outside my window....at 9 am on a Sunday for crap's sake. When I finally acknowledged the fact that the noise was not something I could ignore, I crawled to the end of my bed, hoisted (hehe Alison) my blinds, and found a fat orange cat perched on my outside windowsill. He didn't seem to notice me and kept on with the low grunts, so I tapped on the glass hoping to scare him off. Instead he turned and looked at me with indignation and then proceeded to hiss in my face. To my own embarrassment I found myself talking back to the damn thing, saying, "Don't hiss at me, this is my damn windowsill." I looked up to the right and there perched on top of the fence was another cat, evidently the cause of the fat cat's foul mood. The cat on the fence proceeded to hiss at me as well. I was about to yell at the second cat when my brain finally began to function and I realized there was no reasoning with animals that don't speak English.
The cats haven't been back yet today but I suspect if they return tomorrow morning I will resort to throwing books at my window instead of trying to reason with them. I don't need my neighbors thinking I'm crazy this early in the game.
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