Letter Home (SHINE Competition Entry)

[This is something I whipped up for some international student competition a few months ago I wasn’t planning on entering but at the last minute decided to have a go at. Didn’t win anything in the end, but it was fun to write. Thanks to all of you who tell me my stories are entertaining, whether they actually are or not.]

 

Dear Mum and Dad,

Life in the UK is good (oh, I learned the difference between ‘England’, ‘Britain’, and ‘the UK’, by the way). More than good; it’s fantastic. My main source of information on Britain having been childhood literature like Robin Hood and Harry Potter, I had some pretty fanciful perceptions which I fully expected to be disappointed. They were not.

Sure, there aren’t wizards flying around on broomsticks (that I know of), but history and culture is positively oozing from every building I see. Before I left Japan, when I would tell people I was going to Bradford, aside from never once failing to have the link between my name and that of my destination pointed out, I certainly received a number of surprised looks from those who’d heard anything more about the city. However, the slight worry that began to stir in me was unfounded. It’s lovely here. As you saw, I couldn’t help but snap loads of pictures as soon as I arrived, and not just because of ingrained Japanese tourist tendencies.

I quickly took the opportunity to do a bit of traveling around West Yorkshire, which only served to confirm my amazement. In addition to modern city features such as malls and museums in Bradford and the nearby Leeds, there’s also wide countryside, rustic villages, massive ruins, the whole gamut. It might just be the faery-tale lenses on my eyes, but I think colours are more vivid here. The sky definitely is; it’s certainly not dreary grey as often as I was led to believe.

Speaking of added colour, since coming here I’ve expanded my vocabulary with words such as ‘rather’, ‘smashing’, ‘cheers’, and ‘yoright’, which basically means, “What’s up?”. I’ve also learned to spell properly, but it seems that I don’t pronounce things quite correctly.

On that front, however, I have had a kind of success. Like many others, before coming, I was guilty of assuming there to be a sort of ‘standard’ accent, like there is in Japan and, to a certain extent, the US. There doesn’t seem to be, or if there is, it’s certainly not to be found in Yorkshire, much less this uni. To the contrary, I’ve been surrounded by a mad swirl of different pronunciations since arriving, but am slowly starting to match accents to regions and cities. Fortunately, I picked up early on that no matter how curious I am to see whether my fledgling instincts are correct, I must never ask, “Is your accent Scottish or Irish?”.

Even though I had very little idea what I’d be studying in my chosen course, “peace studies”, this too has turned out to be excellent. I’m learning so much about, well, everything, and because we’re given a range of essay questions to choose from, I basically get to study what I want. One day I read all about the Chilean coup of 1973, the next day I went from knowing nothing about the British political system to having a much better understanding of it than either the American or Japanese ones. This culminated in getting to sit in on a Parliamentary session in Westminster, which most people would probably find boring but for me was, like all else, enchanting. It was a bit of a struggle towards the end of term to finish all my essays, but I was able to pull through and emerge into the sunlight of five glorious weeks of break.

I had the most amazing Christmas and New Year’s experience because I chose to spend a chunk of that break in London, the mecca of my magical expectations for this island. For twenty days straight I walked the streets, took in the sights, visited museums, and stayed at strangers’ houses thanks to a wonderful travel website called Couchsurfing. Between that, trying out hostels for the first time, and Megabus, I was able to have this entire adventure for quite cheaply; in fact, with my remaining few days of break I did the same with Edinburgh and was blown away, again. I’m absolutely chuffed to be making friends not only at uni but ‘all throughout the land’.

People ask me what my favourite thing in London was, and I suspect they wouldn’t be entirely satisfied with ‘standing amidst broad, old, tall, new buildings with my senses wide open, soaking in the the very spirit of the city itself’. But that’s the truest answer and also a pretty fitting description of my experience in Great Britain in general. It’s exceeded my expectations in virtually every aspect, and often I feel it’s almost unfair that my life should be so good.

I suppose this is what all those hours of teaching English last year really were for. And the complexity of getting academic transcripts and bank statements from both Japan and the US. And the scholarship essays. And the risk of committing three years to a place I’d only seen the website for. Well worth it.

So that’s been my first few months trying to convince the natives how great their country is, and I’m looking forward to what the next semester, and next few years, will unveil.

Love you much, and yes, I’ll try to be on Skype more regularly this year.

-Bradley

Exercise Of The Body And Mind? Or Just One At The Expense Of The Other?

I don’t have a TV. I don’t watch live TV on my laptop. And yet I am still bullied by the TV licensing organisation (read: mafia) to buy a TV licence for the exorbitant fee of £145. They threaten that if I’m caught watching TV without a licence I’ll have to pay over a £1000 in legal fees. They say things like, “We know students watch TV on their laptops.” “We know the laptop is the new TV. But did you know…” And on and on with the menacing language, the posters everywhere, the constant mail.

At first I was worried; I thought it might include things like iPlayer – recorded shows. But I looked at the fine print on the posters and letters and though they do their best to hide it, it’s obvious that you only need a licence if you’re watching live TV. I’ve heard people say it’s actually only BBC that matters, but I don’t know about that. Regardless, I wasn’t watching live TV so I followed the instructions in the letter for how to tell them through their website that I don’t need one. I filled out the form and they said they might be sending people around to check (because bla% of people who think they don’t need a licence actually do), and I said, pssshhh. Right. They’re gonna come around checking dorm rooms, and what? Look at my internet browsing history? That would certainly be an infringement of some kind, and it wouldn’t help them – the same sites offers live and playback.

What’s more is they said they’d stop sending (black)mail around but I’ve received two more letters since then, and more than a few weeks after I filled out the form, too. True, the letters were dated from before I said I didn’t need a licence so it could be the fault of the cleaning lady (who for some reason delivers only these letters when we have proper mailboxes downstairs – well, semi-proper if you read my story about that – must be getting subsidised by the evil company itself). But this is definitely overkill. They’re arrogant, mean-spirited, and greedy (the company, not the cleaning ladies. They’re just..mm, yeah).

I mentioned to a German friend that the thought of suing the company for harassment had crossed my mind. I could sure use the cash for tuition. He replied, “This isn’t America.” Oh…right. Have I really been that influenced?

But I actually didn’t start this post to whine about pestering media mobs. I haven’t heard from them for a while so perhaps it’s blown over. No, I actually started this to tell you about my sports centre. It’s just a few steps up the hill from my halls so going in the morning is easy-peasy (fun to say, not so fun to be heard saying) and their equipment is ace. Yes, I probably paid for it with the sizeable membership fee, but I think it’s worth it. I’m making it worth it.

My favourite pieces are the treadmills. Not only do they have headphone and iPod jacks and FM radio, they’ve also got TV (and I don’t have to pay for the licence, that’s what reminded me of that and got me off on that preliminary tangent). I plug in my earbuds, start the belt, and turn on Friends. Used to be Friends. They recently changed it to a lame comedy so I haven’t been as motivated to go exercise.

But the change of show is probably a good thing because I’m more likely to instead choose to watch the news. And that’s where the point of this entry really comes into focus, because lately I’ve been quite busy writing a politics essay. I don’t know much at all about politics. Or I didn’t, before my copious reading.

It’s about UK politics and I just moved here; I didn’t have a clue. But even if it were about Japan or America I wouldn’t have been much more clued in, and oddly enough now I know British politics far better than any other country’s (it’ll be interesting to see how that shapes my interaction with the subject for the rest of my life). But my knowledge is largely theoretical, so I would benefit from the practical aspect of watching David Cameron do the Question Time in the House of Commons, for example.

So I amused myself with the thought that perhaps I should go work out to study for my politics essay.

There, that’s basically all I’m trying to say with this. I probably won’t even do it, I’ll just trade exercise time for reading time. But in a few days I’ll be done with these two essays (the other one being on the Chilean coup of 1973 and a bit more interesting, though equally involved with a subject completely foreign to me – economics. My brain is literally expanding with all the knowledge I’m taking in, guys) and be off to see Emma Watson and the Deathly Hallows Part 1.

Quite excited, yeah.

Other Happenings and Thoughts

I was scared this morning [the morning of the 16th]. At least very worried. I was opening my mail, of which I had a surprising amount, considering I only just got here, but I figured it was all welcome and offer stuff from local businesses.

The first letter I opened looked unfamiliar, and even with a closer look I didn’t recognize any of the names or items on what seemed to be some sort of business confirmation. In fact, it almost seemed like it was for someone else. I picked up the envelope once again, which I had not examined that closely before opening it, and saw to my horror that it was addressed to someone else. I looked at the rest of the mail, and found that it was all addressed to other people, and all looked very official. Not a single one was for me, but every addressee had a last name starting with ‘L’. Ah, so that’s what the receptionist had meant by “The mail is sorted alphabetically by your last name, so you get the ‘L’ box, see?”

Throughout the process of this realization dawning on me I had wondered, in the back of my mind, if it was someone else’s mail, but that was always quickly countered by a “They wouldn’t let allow the possibility of someone stealing another person’s mail so easily…would they?”

Clearly they would. I thought stealing an IKEA bag was bad, but stealing mail – that’s a federal offense. And I’ve only been in the UK for one complete day.

I decided my best bet was to reseal the envelope, but then I realized I didn’t have a gluestick. In times like these, I really hate being a new student in a new place with minimal belongings. But I closed the envelope and it stuck somewhat, so I decided to go with that. I was able to covertly return the stack to the ‘L’ box, and hope I never hear of that again.

It’s interesting the things that seem to be built on trust here. For example, I didn’t actually have to prove any of the academic qualifications I claimed in my application process until after I was accepted to the uni. I suppose preemptive limitations and knowing something won’t fly in the end are equally powerful deterrents. Britain seems to choose the latter in most cases. During this orientation week, nothing is really required except for registration (there’s no program), but I’d be an idiot not to take advantage of all the tours and presentations offered. And I hear that they place much more importance on large paper assignments than smaller homework or tests, much more than, say, America. These are all different sides of the same issue: less being taken care of, more responsibility on me. Which will be good for me.

In other news: This evening I was talking with the only other resident of our flat at present, and he mentioned that he might be taking some English classes this year. That reminded me of the fact that I’d taught English for the past year, but along with that thought came a feeling of distance, as though that had been a long time ago or even in a different life. A lot of things change when you move to a new country and start a new phase of life – a complete shift from the previous – the least of those things being perception, probably.

But I need to remember where I’ve come from, or else I won’t go in the direction I ultimately want.

That’s my cheesy one-liner wisdom for the night.