Since the last couple of days have been incredible sunny, I had planned to write my first blog entry outside my student room, enjoying fresh air and the sun in my face.
So I came downstairs with my laptop and a mug of piping hot tea, in the hope of finding a nice spot to sit and just let inspiration come. I spent around three minutes sat on a cold stone bench in front one of Lupton blocks, just until my hands got so cold that I couldn’t type on my keyboard – in that moment I knew my plan of enjoying the beautiful sunny day wasn’t going to work. Now I’m just admiring it from my room window.
Yet for me, days here in Leeds are so cold, especially when you come from a country where the temperature rarely drops beyond 8° or 9° Celsius degrees, and that place is Mexico.
I flew across the Atlantic Ocean to land in England and have my year abroad for my Journalism degree, an experience that promises to change the way I see life.
I have been in Leeds for six weeks and I must say that the exciting rush of finding everything new has passed. Now I have that strange yet comforting feeling of having known the place for a long time.
I feel that the person who arrived on 16 January is not the same as the one who is writing now. I arrived into a totally unfamiliar city after 12 hours of flight plus 6 hours to adjust to local time; I remember I grabbed a taxi from the airport straight to Lupton Flats, then ran to Wilkinson to buy a bed set and after that, not even knowing on which side of the road I was supposed to take a bus to the University.
Now that seems like a far memory. Week after week, I adapted a little more to my new life, which has incredibly changed. I met amazing people from many parts of the globe that I now call friends; we took long walks to the frosty city centre, exploring it in search of coffee shops and other handy shops, we bought Hunter boots (perfect match to the not-so-nice British weather) and even got bus passes (now I can pretty much tell you all the bus routes that take me to Uni Steps).
I love how I’ve became independent, with common issues like walking every week to the City Market and to Morrison’s to buy food and cook quite acceptable and delicious student dishes; to more relevant aspects as how to organise my time to balance academic and social commitments.
But to be honest, the most difficult part of these six weeks has been the famous and beloved British accent. Come on! I won’t apologize for being used to – and talking with – American accent, you British people speak so awkwardly, I swear, I barely understand!
This has really been an object of my frustration. It’s not good at all when I’m trying to socialize with local people – such as my classmates – and my facial expression just goes blank and I can only think “what did he just say?” It’s not funny, to go over again and politely ask “Can you repeat it please? Sorry, I didn’t understand”.
Apart from my daily doses of embarrassment, I also have to deal with figuring out the meaning of new words and phrases commonly used here. So yes, while I both enjoy and suffer my new college life, I get lost in translation every day.
Oh dear, I remember the days when I use to say that I loved the British accent…
Image source:
http://www.pochoblog.com/assets/2011/08/british-accents-to-american.png