Day 5: CULTURE SHOCK

(Or what happens when you plug in an American clock into a British outlet)

My alarm clock died today. Or maybe yesterday. I don’t know I’m all jet-lagged out.

I guess that’s better than my alarm clock. It just stopped working. The adapter I bought for British sockets wasn’t intended for clocks. As a result, the high voltage fried my American clock.

The past three days have been a blur, as I try to adjust to a new culture. I guess the clock story could be considered a humorous* anecdote. But, okay, I like it as a metaphor.

I’m feeling a bit fried myself.

Most students abroad are juniors. As a senior, I know few of my classmates. So I’m more lost than most as we all look for affordable housing in the heart of London. Luckily, I’m taken in by two photo students I know—and six other photo students. I’m grateful for their hospitality. But, as always, there’s a catch.

I will spend the next four months living with these eight trigger-happy photographers. For the next four months, wherever we go—we are cursed to look like the most tourist-y of tourists. (If only Londoners could tell the difference between a Single-Lens Reflex D300 with a telephoto lens—and a Kodak disposable camera. If only I could.)



Photo majors even photograph their alcohol.

Each group of students, was assigned a native Londoner to help with the housing search. We received a poor ol’ unemployed actor named Gary. Much later, we found out he was only acting when he said he was a poor ol’ unemployed actor.

We discovered a decent-sized home owned by man who looked eerily similar to Brick Top of Snatch fame.* Of course, he was much more humane (like a Pikey or even Brad Pitt). And soon we had cheap enough housing that it was covered by Syracuse’s per diem.

Just off the Edgware Road tube stop on the Bakerloo Line, we made our home.

After a hectic three days, holed up in a shoddy hotel paid for by SU—we now were no longer homeless. No more worries about housing meant it was finally time to start looking around and appreciating London.

But first I needed a nap. And, afterward, a new alarm clock.

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Foot notes:
*humourous
*Brick Top in Snatch famously dispatched of his enemies by feeding them to pigs. There were no pigs where we secured out housing. But there was a monstrous fish. And on our trip to check out the house, Brick Top’s son explained the fish had killed (other fish) before. I think it was clear. A message was being sent.