Confessions of a Week-Old Londoner

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!)

London skyline from Savage Garden, a rooftop restaurant/bar near Aldgate
London skyline from Savage Garden, a rooftop restaurant near Aldgate that I went to with my flatmates

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: 

Cheese toastie at Queen Mary’s Gardens in Regent’s Park
Cheese toastie (or what was left of it) in Regent’s Park
Daunt Books in Marylebone
Me at Daunt Books in Marylebone
  • 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

Introduction to Internationality

As I made my way through the tiny airport in Rennes, France, I was keenly aware that I was the American study abroad student who was encroaching on the lives of French citizens who have most likely lived in this country for their entire lives. I instantly felt as though I did not belong here. I knew that sulking in my own self deprecation was neither productive nor positive. Instead, I decided to take pride in my hyper independence and make the most of a beautiful and culturally rich city.

By the time I had settled into my nine square meter apartment, I was excited to start my year in the French program at SciencesPo Rennes. After two weeks of sampling each class I was interested in, I found five classes that were the most enticing: French as a Foreign Language, French History and Civilization, Oceans: Territories at Stake, Sociology of Public Action, and External Actions of the EU. Choosing these classes was not an easy feat. It took a lot of time and deliberation in order to commit to my final schedule.

I know that I have already been here for a month and that I have missed out on writing about some crucial aspects of my study abroad experience so far, including some adventures and unexpected culture shocks.

After the first week or so, I was craving adventure outside of Rennes. A small group of friends and I took a day trip to St. Malo, a stunning walled city on the northern coast of Brittany. The salty wind, crashing waves, and cobblestone streets were a welcomed change. We walked along the old city ramparts, drank cappuccinos, and napped on the beach. I stood on the shore watching some of my friends swim in the water and realized that I felt infinitely grateful for this experience.

Our second escape from the city happened only two weeks later where we explored Paimpont, a tiny village in the heart of the Brocéliande Forest, a place that is famously associated to the legend of King Arthur and Merlin. We walked through the forest and picnicked on the shore of a small lake where we witnessed a wedding occur at the only chapel in town. In Paimpont, there was nothing but greenery and serenity.

Despite the whimsical nature of our adventures, I still faced difficulties. When adapting to a new country, there is a strange sense of urgency to be perfect at everything. Even though this is the mentality that I have adopted, it’s not one that is sustainable or productive but instead counterproductive and psychologically detrimental. I came upon this realization while sitting in a small cafe here in Rennes named Maison Bécam. I had been listening to a song that mixed French and English together (a lyrical bilingual anomaly), when I realized that this is what the inside of my brain sounds like—a strange mix between the two, both of which I am forgetting. It’s true. When you’re stuck between two languages, you forget words in both your mother tongue and foreign language. For me, the word “toothbrush” or “brosse à dents” got lost somewhere in the back of my brain. I panicked. This is the worst possible thing you can do in this situation.

You cannot expect to be perfect. Locals will speak English to you even if you speak to them in their language. It will be frustrating. However, it is understandable, you’re not a local. Don’t try to be. Don’t try to change your personality, style, mentality, or anything else because you want to fit in. You will be exhausted by the end of the day if you pretend to be someone you are not. 

When adapting to a new country, a new culture, a new language, you must be patient with yourself. I, decidedly, am impatient. Don’t be like me. Take your time—listen to the people around you, read in the language you’re trying to learn, speak as much as you can even if it’s just with a fellow international student—tune out the voice in your head saying that you cannot learn another language.

Despite what one might think, it does get better after the first few weeks. You end up finding friends who come from all over the world and talk about your home universities, where you grew up, and about the friends you have left behind in order to gain a new experience. I know that there will be ups and downs, but it comforts me knowing that I am not alone in this new chapter of my life.