Author: alexandrachoudhury

For free reality TV, take the tube home on a Friday or Saturday night. 

On a ride back to my flat from Regent Street, I eavesdropped on a conversation of two young women next to me, talking about a failed date. (But is it really eavesdropping if you’re not even trying to listen, and you hear it anyway?)

“I can’t believe he had the absolute nerve to text me after I arrived at the bloody restaurant. I texted him, like, are you mad? Is he seriously taking the piss right now?”

Before arriving in London, I, like many Americans, thought that the extent of British slang was “‘ello love,”, “‘innit bruv” and posh things like “tea and crumpets” or “pip pip cheerio”. I was very wrong. British slang is much funnier than I originally thought. Here are some of my favorites that I’ve heard so far: 

• Cheeky (spontaneous, something you shouldn’t really be doing, i.e. cheeky Nando’s)
• Quid (British pounds, £)
• Knackered (tired)
• Maccy D’s (McDonald’s)
• Ledge (legend)
• Daft (dumb, stupid)
• Mental (crazy)

To demonstrate these (read in a British accent for full effect):

After a mental day at uni with my daft classmates and no quid in my bank, I was absolutely knackered, so I went down town in the tube with the lads to Maccy D’s — but my mate Willy realizes he has some quid left on his Nando’s gift card, so he’s like, “mate, let’s have a cheeky Nando’s on me” and I said “Willy, bruv, you’re an absolute ledge” so we went to have an extra cheeky Nando’s with a side of Top Quality Banter.

(Note: Nando’s is a South African multinational fast casual restaurant chain that specializes in Portuguese flame-grilled, peri-peri style chicken. Very tasty. Go try it if you haven’t.)

Some other short phrases I like are: 

• “Taking the piss” (“Are you trying to make a fool of me?”. But it can have quite a range of meaning, from “Are you kidding?”, all the way to “I’m just teasing/joking”)
• “How’s he done that then?”
• “You ‘avin a laugh?”
• “Look at the state of that!”

There are a lot more that are very explicit (but hilarious), so I can’t include them here. Just know that lots of Brits can have quite the foul gob (mouth) when they want to. If you’d like to experience some for yourself, hop on the line of your choice in the evening, but preferably at least after 7pm when everyone is done with work but is also done indulging in happy hour and is a little more loose-lipped. Just sit back, relax on the brightly-colored seats, and listen in on some conversations. Who needs to pay for Netflix anyway?

Speaking of listening and observing: If you like staring like a tourist while trying to look like a local like me, this next bit will be of interest to you. I recently learned about psychogeography, or the study of how a person’s physical environment or the place that they live in affects their actions, character, and emotions. This was the focus of my first class for Writing London, and I quite like the concept. The idea was coined by French philosopher Guy Debord in the 1950s as a critique of modern urban life. Debord’s argument was that cities are built for capital, and not people. The commodification of everything in urban spaces limits creativity and spontaneity by filtering out authentic experiences, since individuals travel around the city almost exclusively for work and commerce and are exposed only to “predesigned spectacles”. Think of all the overpriced, mediocre cafés that only exist for Instagram purposes that you will encounter on the main streets of any given city, which are the primary “attractions” you will see when you walk around. It’s designed to be that way. Generate views from Instagram, then reap the profit from purchases of watery oat milk lattes. According to Debord, when people practice the freedom of everyday life along these sorts of predetermined urban routes, freedom becomes “a mere image of itself”, where authentic experiences are limited both physically and mentally because everything is designed to revolve around things you can either buy (cafés, souvenir shops, etc.) or produce (going to work).

Debord’s remedy to the disconnect between city and person is “the dérive” (“the drift”), or what I can only describe as the art of meandering. The “dérive” is the practice of wandering throughout a city without a particular destination in mind, simply following your own curiosities (“this thing looks interesting, therefore I will go this way!”). Drifting through space then allows you to explore how the city is constructed, as well as how it makes you feel, without the added pressure to buy something or go to work.

My first meaningful meander was with a classmate after my first class on Monday. We had no plans after class so we picked a direction starting from Regent Street and just walked. Not far from our campus, we passed along a street full of embassies: Sweden, Kenya, Poland, and China, to name a few. As we chatted, we continued along through Regent’s Park, then to Marylebone High Street. I liked meandering, wandering, drifting, loitering, whatever you want to call it. You can learn a lot by simply letting your feet, eyes, and ears follow what you think is interesting. Look at that tree with plastic bags all over it. There are birds I’ve never seen in Regent’s Park. Why does that woman keep touching her pockets? Is she a tourist worried about the notorious London phone snatchers? These are things I noticed, but someone on their own meandering journey will take interest in completely different sights and sounds.

Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, a beloved Brit who created Sherlock Holmes, once wrote, “You see, but you do not observe.” There’s no point in living in a complex, bustling city and restricting yourself by treading the same few paths every day. Being abroad forces you to slow down to look at your surroundings since everything is new. But mastering the art of noticing and being curious is something that helps you feel more present and take home more memories from the whole experience. I think that in modern times, we focus a lot on what we can present to other people from our travels. What souvenirs can I buy and take home to show my friends? Where is the best spot to get an aesthetic photo for my social media? In other words, the goal of travel can quickly become a contest of “who had the better Instagram story” rather than authentic experience. I’m a victim of this too. I obviously have to take pictures for this blog and to show my parents that I’m alive and doing things, so I find myself thinking “hmm, this looks like something I should take a picture of and post” more often than I really need to. It’s not a crime to take pictures, but it shouldn’t become the main goal.

This reminds of a quote from one of my writing inspirations, Anthony Bourdain: “Be a traveler, not a tourist.” Being a tourist is easy. It’s easy to pull out your phone and snap some pictures of Big Ben, hit post, and call it a day. It’s easy to open Google for Best Places to Eat Near Me. It’s easy to follow simple routes of predetermined excitement in a new city. Tourism becomes travel when you make a conscious decision to see what experiences unique to you that the city has to offer, rather than “proof” that will show off the fact that you’re more well-traveled than anyone who sees your Instagram story. What’s ever going to be more unique than the memories you have?

My advice is to be your own Google when looking for things to do: Ask your Sainsbury’s cashier what parks are best for a scenic walk. Stop strangers in the street and ask where they got those cool shoes. Tell your classmates who live in the area that you’re looking for a good lunch that won’t break the bank. Meander, drift, wander where your heart takes you. Above all else, be present and enjoy the ride.

Since arriving in London and learning about the dérive, I’ve been making an effort to get off my phone (except for directions or telling my friends that I’ve arrived at our pub of choice) and keeping my headphones out of my ears in order to hear the sounds of the city in addition to seeing them. Meandering meaningfully is a skill I’d like to continue to develop while abroad and take home with me when I’m done. 

Thanks again for reading. Take some time to meander around your own city. I promise you won’t regret it. 

Have a lovely day, 
Alexandra

During the 10-year construction of the Elizabeth Line in London’s tube system, the city found two plague pits scattered along the planned route, with about 65 skeletons across both pits. If you don’t know what a plague pit is, it’s a giant hole that people dug during the black plague in the 16th century to bury individuals en masse who were victims to the disease. Though the pits have been long sealed off, the discovery of such old remains in such recent times is a reminder of London’s long history that makes itself apparent at every turn. It’s something I’ve found myself noticing at every turn—there are buildings and little landmarks with some sort of tiny plaque explaining their historical relevance everywhere; even if the “significance” is just “the King farted here in 1763”.

The Elizabeth line is one that many individuals, including myself, will take on their journey from the Heathrow International Airport to get to central London. Although the thought of the plague pits isn’t a particularly happy one, the trains themselves are very pleasant. Quiet, efficient, and equipped with screens that display maps and stations, the line named after the late queen can be slightly misleading as to what you would expect from the rest of the London tube. Many of the trains are screechy and have graffiti all over them, and there are questionable stains on the seats (I’m looking at you, Central Line). I wasn’t really bothered by the old seats or spray paint on the doors, but I was surprised at how quiet the cars are, aside from the violent screeching from the tracks. British passengers tend to keep to themselves, and when you try to have a conversation in a quiet Circle Line car, it basically feels like you’re a Town Crier (Hear ye! Hear ye! My Oyster Card is running out of funds!)

Now I’ve been in London for about two weeks. I’ve had little issue with navigating the tube thanks to modern technology (the TFL Go app, Citymapper, and my trusty Apple Maps). Compared to the car-centric United States, I’ve been content to let the trains take me where I please without having to worry about crashing a 5,000 pound vehicle all the time.

However, I am used to the privacy of a 5,000 pound vehicle. The rush hour in London is no joke. I made the mistake of trying to return to my flat from Oxford Circus at 5:00pm on a Monday. I am also used to the air conditioning of a car. Oh, air conditioning. How I miss you. The tube is really just a personal sauna disguised as a public transportation system. 

Life so far consists of using the Underground to get to Regent Street or Marylebone for various orientation events, and then some walking around and doing some sightseeing with my flatmates. Nothing is really in full swing yet for me in London, but things are already going by fast at DU. I’ve been texting some of my friends who are still at home, already telling me about obscene amounts of reading they have to do, or the state of campus in general. I’m feeling the DU hustle from abroad, too. I’m the Editor-in-Chief of the DU Undergraduate Research Journal (DUURJ), so I’ve got a lot of responsibilities—answering and sending emails, making the timeline for the year, managing submissions, and organizing our affairs with the Writing Center—that are only more difficult because of the time difference. Time travelling into the future via study abroad is vastly overrated when you are receiving all your emails at midnight when you’re just trying to sleep in your scratchy university-provided bedding. I’m very lucky that our editors are very capable and can handle pretty much anything while I’m abroad, or else my responsibilities at home would be eating at me more than they already are.

Another feeling that comes up a lot is the frustration I get when the emails start piling up in my inbox like the tube during rush hour. No one tells you how many emails you will receive while studying abroad. Reading through emails seems to have taken up more of my time than any orientation event I’ve had so far. There are emails about pre-arrival. There are emails about arrival. There are emails about pre-arrival to orientation. There are emails about pre-arrival to enrollment. There are pre-emails to the orientation and enrollment email. There are post-orientation emails about the orientation that are followed by three more emails about orientation events that could have just been one email. There are emails about pest control in the flat. There are emails about changing your schedule. There are emails about your internship. There are the emails from DU about on-campus events that I will not be attending since I am over 4,000 miles away. There are emails apologizing about typos in other emails. There are emails about emails about emails. The worst part is that in the tumultuous sea of Outlook, one email will have absolutely crucial information, and you *will* lose track of it. I nearly missed my virtual appointment to change my schedule this week because I couldn’t find the email with the link to the meeting. Being in a new country and figuring out how to do everything and wanting to have fun is very difficult when you have a constant stream of important information coming in on your phone, which makes you feel like you’re behind even if the email is just about a staff member coming to check your room for bedbugs (I do not have bedbugs, by the way. I would probably cry if I did). As a tip, try and mute your email when you’re out and about trying to enjoy your life, and read/answer them all at once when you’re at home.

This post is already getting to be quite long, so I’ll summarize some other things I’ve done so far: 

• Been to some wonderful little stores and bookshops (Daunt Books in Marylebone has been my favorite. I bought the 25th anniversary edition of Anthony Bourdain’s Kitchen Confidential)
• Sweated through all my clothes dragging my bag of home goods from Primark back to the flat
• Knocked on the doors of everyone in our building with my flatmates, attempting to make a giant group chat
• Been absolutely flabbergasted at the price of doing laundry (seven whole United States dollars for the washer and dryer)
• Spent a concerning amount of time on social media looking for things to do and places to eat (you could probably have breakfast, lunch, and dinner at different restaurants every day for your entire life in London and still never see them all)
• Eaten a delightful cheese toastie from Pret a Manger in Queen Mary’s Rose Garden in Regents Park

So what do I plan on doing next? Hopefully, clearing out my inbox. And also starting my classes and internship next week. 

Thanks for reading!
– Alexandra