The All-American Girl

The University of Lancaster is huge.  There is a campus square that sits in the middle of our out-in-the-country school and it is measurably the size of a small, bustling town mall.  Shops line the covered corridors, the brick pillars have comical posters slapped on them, slightly askew, begging the new freshmen to join the many assorted clubs ("freshers week: drink: check, sleep: check, drink more: check, join the canoe club, check!), small quads appear at every turn, a quaint garden sits somewhere between the Great Hall and Bowland, and the massive learning centers and offices are sprawled out across the square as well.

Needless to say, I have no idea where I am half the time.  Though I did manage to give a poor kid directions to the library, which I had just left from registering where I met some very nice Australians, too.

Left is the Learning Zone, right are shops, and millions of corridors break off to more vast areas

 I realized that my role was best played as the kindly put, All-American Girl, or as the British see me as, the completely ignorant American.  The second I begin to speak with my perfect real American-English accent, all the Brits smirk and nod politely as I refer to their "toliets" as restrooms (and their "queue" as a line).  I'm sorry, that's the polite way.  That's fine, Brits, two can play at this game.

Rick the Brit: Casually chatting to his mate about the snowboarding club
Me: "So, like" hair twirl, "Do you guys do any, like, snowboarding here?"

I would like to add that I knew, and have always known, that England doesn't get much snow, and therefore, snowboarding would only be done if it was man-made, preferably northern England where it would keep.

Rick: looks at his friend and laughs amused.  "No, silly American girl, we would go to France or Germany for that."

Alright, Rick wasn't that rude, but collectively this is how I feel the Brits view us Americans.  Or maybe it's just me, which is probably more accurate--the MTV watching, manicure acquiring, bubblegum popping American teen, which everyone knows that's exactly who I am.


Despite it being overcast and in between drizzling and rain, the grounds are lovely and I've yet to explore half of Lancaster:

My building, Greensodd, is directly on the right

Introducing the room: bigger than Bissman's double, but much smaller than my previous awesome triple with Kate!

The bedding is cheaply made and the pillow seems to be stolen off an airplane

....But it's a single, and I have my own sink!

 And as far as the story of my wallet that's wanted to spend a few extra nights in London...

 Well, let's just say I found a new mantra.

Here's to being a gun-toting, cowboy boots-wearing, hotdog-guzzling, loud-mouthed American.  Cheers.