My Saturday Night Out

“My Spirit is too weak–Mortality
Weights heavily on me like unwilling sleep,
And each imagined pinnacle and steep
Of godlike hardship, tells me I must die
Like a sick Eagle looking at the sky.
Yet ’tis a gentle luxury to weep
That I have not the cloudy winds to keep,
Fresh for the opening of the morning’s eye.
Such dim-conceived glories of the brain
Bring round the heart an undescribable feud;
So do these wonders a most dizzy pain,
That mingles Grecian grandeur with the rude
Wasting of old time-with a billowy main-
A sun-a shadow of a magnitude.”

-John Keats, “On Seeing the Elgin Marbles,” 1817

I read this poem after a long night. It started when I went to a friend’s birthday dinner party at a Latino restaurant in glitzy, American tourist-infested Leicester Square. At one point after dinner, while walking through the winding streets of the Square and its environs, I remember talking to one of my new friends about taking the things that are closest to us for granted: she living in Glastonbury but never attending the famous summer music festival there and I, attending school near the British Museum but hardly ever making the five-minute trek to see the relics of civilization. This was just small talk and I didn’t think much of it at the time. Instead, I went about with the rest of the night. After a while I decided to be a party pooper and retired back to my dorm to get an early start to my essay (not a paper, because that will get you funny looks in England, but a proper essay) due day.

Or so I thought. After an hour and a half of sleep, the fire alarm woke me up at about three in the morning. And me being me, I had a tough time falling asleep afterward. So, to help get through the night I opened up my textbook from my English class and flipped through the pages to find something to pass the time, eventually stumbling on the Keats’ poem.

Even though I wasn’t able to fall asleep until 5:00 in the morning, I wasn’t upset. Instead, I was too busy laughing, having experienced two of life’s many ironies on my Saturday night out.

Hooray Barack Day!

Instead of joining the millions of people gathered on the National Mall to witness Barack Obama take office, I was one of the hundreds of people packed into my school’s student union to see the spectacle unfold on BBC News. Nonetheless, it was still wonderful– so wonderful that, for a while anyway, I stopped regretting not being in DC to watch the inauguration. Anyway, the campus was beaming with excitement about Obama’s inauguration. And my classmates even congratulated me on what became known as Barack day, at least on facebook anyway. The screening at my school turned out to be a party with students arising from the downstairs bar, booze in hand, to stomp and holler with friends as Obama took office and boo when the camera switched to show outgoing Pres. Bush. However, as the new president began to deliver his inaugural address, the room became silent in anticipation of what might come…

Even though the whole screening lasted for only an hour, after everyone had left and went about with the rest of their day, I felt that some special feeling had been left behind in the student union, possibly excitement of the possibilities that lay ahead or just relief for the end of the Bush regime. Whatever it was, it’s a feeling that I shared with my fellow SOASians and something that I won’t forget anytime soon.

(Again, read about more of my adventures at staffordstravels.blogspot.com)

The Takeover: So What’s The Fuss

Campus has gone bloody mad this week! This past Wednesday, a group of students at my study abroad institution, the School of Oriental and African Studies, rose up in arms and occupied a campus building. The university has been abuzz with news of the takeover, reminiscent of 1960s student takeovers in the US, particularly at a New York school that shall remain nameless. Though news of the takeover quickly spread throughout the university, I was unaware of all the commotion until my brother, nearly 3,000 miles away in New England, informed me of the morning, student-led takeover in the halls of the Brunei Gallery. And those are all the details that I know about the takeover: simply that a group of students occupied a building.

Even though I was short on details, that did not stop me from hearing of the takeover, as it remained the hot topic throughout the day in the rest of my classes. For instance, one of my tutors, noting the low attendance of tutorial, joked, “I guess everyone must be at the takeover,” to which the few of us in class replied with smirks and giggles. And many of my classmates discussed the takeover, whether it was right or wrong, what were the goals of the students, were these students demands good or bad, anger at the protest from impeding their ability to go to the bookstore in the Brunei Gallery, etc.

The funny thing about the takeover is that I have no clue why it began. There is talk that it is a demonstration against the Israeli attacks in Gaza, but I have heard that it was a protest against a British war exhibit. At first, I thought that this was indicative of how I, as a foreigner, am estranged from my English. But a few days later, I realized that, after talking to my English flatmates, they were just as confused as I about the takeover. Yet, despite the confusion about all the commotion, protests have spread in clusters across the UK to a protest at the Houses of Parliament in London and to the University of Edinburgh.

Throughout all of this, I can’t help but ask, “So what’s all the fuss about?”

Well, that’s all for now,

Dominique

You can follow more of my adventures at staffordstravels.blogspot.com

My first day back

London was not the same city that I had left behind three weeks ago. For starters, I was amazed to see the shining sun and the blue skies as the plane descended onto the runway, a complete change from the gray, damp city that I had left behind. It was the first sign that this semester would be a lot different from this past Fall. Instead of feeling overwhelmed and out of place like a fish out of water, I arrived to hugs and greeting of “welcome back” from my flatmates– not suitemates, but flatmates. The first to welcome me was another exchange student, Samuel, who, coincidentally, was also the first person to greet me when I moved in last September. But it wasn’t until I saw Charlotte, my flatmate from Worcestershire (pronounced Woo/ster/sheer) in the Midlands, that I felt back at home, giving her a big hug. It felt so nice to be back in our kitchen, the main lounge in the flat where the seven of us come from our separate rooms to join together, often cooking side by side and sitting down for dinner. With that sense of familiarity in the kitchen, with the usual pots and pans drying around the sink to the smell of someone else’s cooking, I felt right at home. Charlotte and I chatted a bit as she “did her washing up,” discussing how much schoolwork we have already, before I retired to my room, weary of jetlag.

Later that evening, I caught up with the rest of my flatmates in the kitchen: the diminutive Jane, a freshman studying Traditional Chinese; my neighbor from across the Hall, Emily, a Turkish major who came to college after growing up in the forests of the south of England; and William, a post-grad student studying development. Also, later in the week, the kitchen was the same place where I ran into Hikaru, an exchange student from Tokyo, who, after describing her whirlwind travels across Europe during her Christmas break, retired to her room to finish a paper due the next day.

Overall, it felt good to be back, comforted by a sense of familiarity, as well a feeling that this semester would be different.

It’s Winter Break…Waiting to go back abroad

Hello, I am Dominique. After 3 months of studying abroad at the School of Oriental and African Studies this past Fall, I am returning to London town this Winter for another semester of gray skies, rainy weather and bad food. At least those are the images of London that come to mind when I tell all of my friends that I’m returning to London. They don’t really understand and I can tell by the look on their faces that they are wondering why I would return.

There are several reasons. First, London is just so vast that I need more time to explore all of the hidden gems. From Notting Hill in West London to the clubs in South London to the East Enders, to the street markets in North London and, finally, Central London, my home, there is so much to see and so little time (now that the sun sets at 3pm). London is delightfully cosmopolitan and diverse with much to see and lots to do. Second, I don’t want to say good-bye to all of my friends that I’ve made at school. They are a great bunch and you will be hearing more about them in the upcoming weeks. Third, London has a historic feel, hard to describe, tangible when walking around the city. For example, my favorite moment was walking along Westminster Bridge, the site of William Wordsworth’s Composed Upon Westminster Bridge, and seeing the very places that inspired the poem—the dome of St. Paul’s Cathedral, the National Theater and the Thames River. It was grand to witness the splendid beauty of the city.

Anyway, writing this entry from my tiny room in Baltimore makes me nostalgic for London. I can’t wait to return and update you about my adventures.

Until later,

Cheerio!