One night, I was walking home at 5:30 ish in the morning and a guy starting walking alongside me and chatting me up, pushing for personal details (name, school, place of residence, social security number, dog's name, you know, the usual). I kept trying to ignore him or be extremely short with him because for all I know he could have had a switchblade in his back pocket and I could have ended up bloody, dead and in a dumpster with no witnesses except CCTV. When he finally turned a corner, he called out to me, flicked me off, and said, "That's for not telling me your name!" Looking back, it wasn't too scary a situation because there weren't any knives or guns or piano wire involved, but at the time I was severely disturbed. Lesson learned: do not walk home in a mini skirt at 5:30 in the morning!
Other times random men jump out of restaurants lining the sidewalks and yell out "ching ching chong" or "konichiwa" as if pretending to speak a fictitious East Asian language or a real language you don't speak will prove alluring to young women.
I don't know when these creepsters will learn that girls don't like being objectified, eye raped, grabbed, or flicked off by strange men at odd times in the night!
My point? A douchebag is still a douchebag no matter what country, city or principality you are in. The accent, the clothes, and the messy hairdo that took an hour to perfect all fail to mask the douchebaggery that they ooze.
Maybe it's because I've been brainwashed by the American media for the past 20 years of my life that there is a serial killer or rapist stalking every dark corner of my neighborhood, but I literally get heart palpitations every time I pass a shadowy area on my trek home. All the beauty and charm of the cobbled streets and storefronts dissolve at sundown and make me wish I had my inhaler...or that pepper spray wasn't illegal in the United Kingdom.
Those sickos aside, I love London! The fact that skeeze balls exist just make it that much more authentic a metropolitan environment. I love the fashion, I love the tumor pictures on tobacco packaging, I love the markets, I love school...it's really great. I haven't done a dollop of work in the past few weeks, which I really intend to attend to this weekend, but I've had loads of fun in work's place. I couldn't ask for a more perfect environment to spend a year in at this time in my life.
So far, I'm in the full swing of classes and should start working at my internship in the next week or two. I believe I'll be working at Le Monde Diplomatique's English edition and I'm super excited to get involved in the journalism scene in London.
Things I have done since I've last blogged:
1. Visited Oxford! The Harry Potter geek in me loved that parts of some of the films were shot on random bits of this campus. The big tree in the picture below is where Draco Malfoy was turned into a ferret in the fourth movie by Mad Eye. I also loved the robes that the students wear for formal occasions. It was matriculation day when we went and everyone was donning these adorable cape-lets and skinny ties. We also watched The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus (I really don't recommend it although the cast is epic). Also the Oxford Covered Market has the best milkshake place I've ever been to called Moo-moo's. I had a delicious raspberry white-chocolate cheesecake concoction that caused lots of calorie guilt, but was so worth it. Go if you're ever in the area.
2. Made shameless purchases on Portobello Road. I bought the most darling sparkly beaded flapper hat from the 70s. I know, not as authentic as from the 20s, but it's got a lot of spunk and makes me look like Cleopatra.3. Went to the library for the first time! This was an adventure. Everyone in the library is studying so intensely that it makes for an awkward situation when you have to scoot between the intense studiers to look for a book that you need. It was comforting to find that I am indeed (barely) competent enough to find books.
4. Tried absinthe! Basically, it just tastes like black licorice and goes down really easy (unless you gag at the thought of black licorice, then I don't recommend it). Beware, though, it really, really does the trick so drink in moderation.
5. Had lots and lots of Subway sandwiches. It really is the perfect drunk food. And it's the only place open by the time we come back from our night out. All the people who work there recognize our faces when we go there.
6. Run into maybe a thousand club promoters. There are like 20 from the same bar standing on the same street corner harassing you to go to their night club that night. I feel like maybe 5 might be enough. 5 makes you think about it. 20 makes you want to stab them in the face.
Fun Fact: Indian food is so common here (equivalent in pervasiveness as Mexican food in America) that the McDonalds has Curry Sauce as one of their sauces. It's the one next to the ketchup in the picture.
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