1) University Workloads
Warwick is a great school. Of that, there can be no doubt. A small victory, but, for my course, Warwick sits atop the university rankings. To celebrate being top of the rankings for American Studies is a bit like celebrating being top of the 'Pass Completion' charts whilst you sit bottom of the Football League, but nonetheless, no-one can doubt the pedigree of my home institution.
Having said that, I have literally never had as much work as I do now. The University of Toronto has recently been ranked as the top university in Canada, and, Christ, does it feel like it. Having visited
my sister down in Cambridge on many occasions, the atmosphere is definitely more akin to Oxbridge than I expected, and, frankly, there's nowhere to hide. In Warwick, if I was behind on work (rare, but it happened), I would perhaps 'forget' to read an article here, neglect to complete a Spanish exercise there. With grades given out for participation in North American universities, and a hefty percentage at that, not reading an article and being caught out could be fatal. It does, seemingly, punish shy people, but as someone whose contributions veered from hefty to absolutely minimal back home, I can categorically state that this manner of work has forced me into contributing in seminars, and as such, work, and, ostensibly time, has flown by.
2) Frosh vs Fresh
Every year, articles are written in both university and national newspapers condemning and celebrating British Freshers' week. I was a Fresher in October 2011, away from home for a concerted period of time for the first time, and thoroughly enjoyed it. I relished the opportunity of speaking to everybody, jumping up excitedly when anyone new came into the kitchen, like my pet Cairn Terrier. Only I didn't wee over people's shoes. Much. All this, despite not being a massive drinker (by British standards anyway)- alcohol being a huge part of British Freshers' week.
So, imagine a Freshers' week where you can meet people, join societies, explore your new surroundings- but, and it's a big but, you can't drink alcohol. That, essentially, is 'Frosh' week, Canada's bastardisation or enhancement of our experience, depending on your viewpoint.
Neither is without controversy. The University of British Columbia has been embroiled in controversy following a disgusting chant advocating under-age sex. And, of course, we will soon be treated to pictures of British Freshers falling out of nightclubs, whilst journalists forget they were ever young once.
The comparative innocence of Frosh week may well be dictated by the law- the drinking age here is 19- but nevertheless, it makes waking up in the morning that little bit less dicey.
3) Parties and the Famous Red Cups
Whenever myself and the rest of my Warwick mates spoke about our upcoming Years Abroad, house parties and Red Cups always cropped up. Bizarre, really, when you consider what else we could have mentioned, but for some reason, they seem to have become the Official Drinking Vessel of the CAS Year Abroad for 2013-14 (TM).
I went to my first 'proper' house party on Friday, on the outskirts of Toronto (bit of an understatement- it took me about an hour to get home), and, lo and behold, there stood the Red Cups, laid out in beer pong formation, like the Red Arrows, signalling something special. There have been several 'Wow!' moments on this Year Abroad, when I've had to step back and register that I, Ed Higgs of Droitwich Spa, Worcestershire, one-time fruit picker, am studying for a whole year at a North American university.One of those moments was standing for the national anthem at a football game, which I wrote about last time. One was getting soaked at Niagara Falls. And now, I have had the Red Cup moment, brought to you by tequila.
This definitely felt like a North American party. There were Italian-Canadians asking me 'how YOU doin', Red Cups, and the cops got called. All in a night's work.
4) Coping Away From Home
As alluded to in an earlier paragraph, the amount of work I've had has made it difficult to stop and think, let alone miss home. I'm bloody lucky with the Internet, admittedly. The novel I'm studying at the moment is, weirdly, about an Englishman travelling to Canada and having to write letters to his family back home, with frantic correspondence coming back fearing for his safety amongst the bears. I don't have this problem. Firstly, I'm more likely to get ravaged by homeless people up the road at the shelter than bears, and secondly, with Skype and email, it hasn't really felt like I'm any further from my family than Warwick.
My Nan's emails are a particular staple of the old 'missing home' diet. Remember those books you used to read when you were younger? It's like that.
'Me and your Grandad went to the beach. We love the beach. We took the dog. He loves the beach too. He didn't go in the water. Maybe he's scared of water. Then we went home'.
Or...
'Went to a garden fete today. You're probably wondering what that's all about'.
Dunno, Nan. Gardening, maybe? Take these emails away, and I'd probably be lost.
Missing family is one thing. Missing England is quite another matter. Sky Sports, for one, is now just a distant memory, like nursery, or Blues being in the Premier League, and I miss the old conversations I used to have with people about football.
The longing that I have for certain foods is quite gut-wrenching, at times. A Pukka Pie, some toad-in-the-hole, a bit of proper gravy, would all come in handy. Heck, I even miss Carling.
 |
| MUST ASSIMILATE, MUST ASSIMILATE! |
So do I miss home? Of course I do. But then I missed home when I went to London for three days when I was 9. I missed home when I travelled round Italy for three weeks last summer. There's a point where homesickness doesn't really get any more painful. It's not like I wake up and think 'SHIT! BEEN HERE 30 DAYS INSTEAD OF 29 AND OWWWW!' It cometh, and it indeed go-eth.
***
A month has gone by. Do I feel assimilated? I'm drinking coffee out of a Toronto Maple Leafs mug, wearing a University of Toronto sweatshirt, whilst listening to Celine Dion*. I think it's safe to say I do!
*possibly not true
PS: Good luck to all my friends starting back at Warwick this week.
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