The first thing you need to know about today is that last night after finishing my blog, I broke my alarm clock. I plugged it in to my adapter/converter, set my alarm, turned around to go brush my teeth, and then heard a "pff" sound. I whipped around to find that the alarm clock had been blown out, complete with burnt plastic smell. It was about one in the morning, and as many of you know I like my sleep, so my instant thought was that there was no way I was going to wake up in time for my nine o'clock class. Panic. Sheer, bloody panic.
By some miracle I sat bolt upright in bed around eight a.m., when breakfast is served. So I went down to the dining hall and had my first official Cambridge breakfast. Frosted Flakes and orange juice. Highly cultural it was not, but it was just fine by my standards. At the end of the breakfast hour, I went off to find my first class, which turned up to be in a room labeled Granger. This place manages to fuel my Harry Potter fervor at just about every turn; something about just being in Britain.
So, my first class was travel writing. Today was like the equivalent of syllabus day in many ways. We went over the goals and assignments for the class, and then critiqued a few pieces of travel writing. My professor, Andrew Merton, seems wonderfully laid back and I expect this class will be incredibly fun. My first assignment is actually due this Thursday. I have to write three pages, double spaced, on some sort of experience I've had since being in Cambridge. That being said, Dr. Merton would rather we do a piece that isn't purely personal; I'm going to have to do more research than I would have expected for this class. But I'm still looking forward to it! And since I don't have classes tomorrow I'm going to try and head out and find something worth exploring. I don't think it will be too difficult because everything here has a history.
My other class, 20th century poetry, was equally delightful, the only problem is that it is directly after travel writing, so I'm sitting in the same room for about four hours straight. Cultural anthropology this past winter prepared me well for this unique discomfort. Anyway, the professor for 20th century poetry, Dr. Glen Cavaliero, is absolutely adorable. He's this little British man with round spectacles and white, wispy tufts of hair. He pronounces my name "Kat-lynn". And he reads us poetry in his darling British accent. I'll be happy just to listen to this man talk for six weeks. Beyond that he has a lovely sense of humor. He compared the tastes of Hardy, Yeats, and Elliot to "those sweets in Harry Potter that you pick up and think will taste like raspberry but winds up tasting of something like garlic". I'm fairly sure my jaw dropped. Do you see what I mean about the cosmic references to Harry Potter? The man just made a reference to Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans in a 20th century poetry class. Brilliant. I'm sure there will be more Cavaliero quotes to come.
After classes I went out with a group of girls from the program and wandered about Cambridge. I had two things on my mind. The first being an alarm clock because there was no way that I would continue to wake up accurately; I do not expect daily miracles, after all. The second being a heavy sweater. Today was rather overcast and chilly, and while I was grateful that it didn't rain, my cardigan definitely didn't pull its weight. So we explored Cambridge some more and wound up finding a theater. I decided to stop ignoring the universe's mass communiqué about Harry Potter and the six of us bought tickets right then and there for The Deathly Hallows Part II. We're going Saturday night. I'm incredibly excited!
Then we worked are way back towards Gonville and Caius and grabbed some pizza at a Greek restaurant, which was delicious. The best part though was while we were eating, the British equivalent of Jerry Springer blared overhead. We watched spellbound as the host berated his sixteen year-old guest about becoming a baby daddy for his third time (at least allegedly, because of course there was a paternity test involved!). Absolutely hilarious!
After that, my day slowed down significantly. We had our weekly meeting at four o'clock with our tea. Tea is served daily at four here and I could seriously get used to this. I've never been much of a tea person but I think in England that's bound to change. They fairly well live and breathe tea here. Slowly but surely becoming a fan. I think it may be due to the petite cups and saucers more than anything else.
I did manage to find a heavy sweater and a travel alarm clock though. So I'm all set. Now if I can only figure out how to set the darn thing...
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