The first few days here, I counted every minute. I was literally recapping myself as often as possible: "Okay, an hour ago, I was sitting on C.S. Lewis' favorite bar stool. A day ago, I was getting a tour of the library that holds every book that has been published in England since the 1700's. A week ago, I was reading Harry Potter in Maryland, completely incapable of guessing how amazing all of this would be ... "
Now that tutorials have started and I've turned in my first essay, I have been inherently thinking that living here is easy. That I know things.
And then something unexpected happens. I turn down the wrong street, or I hand a cashier the wrong coin. I check out a giant novel that I need to read in forty eight hours, only to get home and find out it's written in French. I lock myself out of my college's private library in twenty degree weather. I still forget to flip the switch for hot water in the shower.
The first week it was exciting, but now it's exhausting. After surviving freshman year of college, we are used to feeling like pros. We're used to schedules and libraries that let us drink coffee while we read and stores that stay open past four o'clock. We never expected that we wouldn't be able to own a T.V. or ask for oregano in stores because we pronounce it incorrectly (or-ee-gah-no). The minor differences here add up to some pretty big frustrations, but we have to adapt.
Don't get me wrong, I am not complaining. In, fact, I'm grateful because I know that it means I am one step closer to actually maybe sort of fitting in here.
Plus, at the end of the day when I just want to break down and sob (okay, maybe I sobbed a little on my way home today, but, no, I don't think anyone noticed so it doesn't count), I get to come back to 3 Ferry Hinksey and compare horror stories with my flatmates. By then, pulling all those obviously labeled PUSH doors and trying to pay for your Starbucks with an American debit card is just funny.
Thank goodness.
