As if there weren't enough reasons already to do so, I have discovered yet another reason to love the British - one stop grocery shopping and flu vaccinations! Yessir, it's true - I got my flu shot today at Asda . . . nothing says awesome like getting vaccinated at your local grocery store. When I was in Asda last week I saw signs advertising flu shots (or "jabs" as they're called here) for 8 pounds in the Asda pharmacy, so I went over to check it out, knowing that I should probably get one. I was told to come back on the 25th to either make an appointment for a later date or get one right then, so I took this afternoon before class to head over and get it taken care of. I now have a sore arm, but I'm quite happy that I managed to get that done, especially since they ran out of shots for us at Orientation. They also had some marvelous sales in the fruit section so not only am I ready for battle against the dreaded influenza but I also have a lovely pile of apples, bananas, and clementines (Fair Trade clementines nonetheless, so I'm helping promote agriculture in developing countries which always makes me happy) sitting on my desk waiting to be turned into a multitude of breakfasts. I'm very happy that Asda is so easy to get to on foot - just hang a left when Booth St. ends and once you pass Abdul's Store of Newspapers and the Somali Golden Center of Opportunities, you're practically there.
Speaking of breakfasts, the other day I had an opportunity to sample a traditional Indian breakfast dish called uma-something, courtesy of Avi and Nithya. It was the first time Nithya had cooked this, and it apparently turned out beautifully (never having had it before I didn't have anything to compare it to, but Avi said it was very nice). It was cooked in a frying pan and had a starch base with a little bit of tomato and some onions. There were other things that went into it but I don't really know what they were. It looked a little like a more interesting version of mashed potatoes, actually. Once it's on the plate you sprinkle it with coarse sugar and eat it like that. It was pretty good, although surprisingly bland for what I've come to expect from Indian food (Avi said it was indeed an exception to the rule). I liked it though, but I'd be hard-pressed to really describe what it tasted like . . . somewhere between potatoes and oatmeal, perhaps? But a sweetened version of potatoes, because of the sugar. I don't really know, but it was worth trying. I've also been invited to cook the awesome chicken next time they do it :)
Hebrew is incredibly difficult, although I know I can learn it, unlike French. I have an ear for this, which was missing with the French stuff. But I would really like to know who thought it was a good idea to write down a language without the vowels . . . it's the most frustrating feeling, trying to sound something out and all you get is "stghb," and not having any idea of what it's supposed to be. At least if letters are missing from a language you know, y cn stll rd t rltvly wll. Case in point. But this is so maddening . . . our professor seems to think that we can't read well because we don't know the letters, which isn't true - I can do my letter flashcards with the sounds flawlessly; it's just when you try to string them together without vowels, it's really difficult to get it right. And despite her assurance that the first time a word appears the book will vowel it, that has not been the case thus far. But I spent a lot of time with it this weekend and I feel a little better about it now, although as soon as I get to class that will probably collapse. There are some fun girls in that class though - two undergrads, Rachel and Ellie, who've taken to sitting on either side of me. They make it a little more entertaining. Ellie is one of those really sarcastic people with extremely deadpan humor - she reminds me a lot of Tess in how she presents things. And Rachel is a sweetheart; she actually went to highschool in the US and is going back for Thanksgiving.
The weather has turned colder the past few days, to the point where I've started wearing a coat outside (so you know that everybody else has been freezing for weeks already), and we're really excited for snow. Avi has never seen it and Nithya only once, so this is gonna be awesome. Avi said while we were in the kitchen the other day, "Ever since I was a little kid and watched 'Home Alone,' I've always wanted to see snow!" It was hilarious. But we're definitely looking forward to the arrival of the white stuff.
Next week is Reading Week, which is a fancy way of saying we get a week off, ostensibly to catch up on our reading but in reality to do whatever, so I'm thinking that it might be a good opportunity to take that trip to Ulverston and make my pilgrimage to Stan's birthplace. Waiting outside for class today I actually met a guy who lives there, and he seemed a little perturbed that my main reason for going there was because of Stan Laurel; he said, in a rather haughty manner, "You know, we do have other stuff there too. It doesn't have to be all about him; you can walk around and things." I did, of course, fully intend to do so, but there's no denying that my main purpose for going there is the Laurel and Hardy connection. Hopefully I'll be able to secure a railcard by then, which will make it a much cheaper adventure.
Kola mentioned to me the other night that the McDonald's down the street is hiring, so I might check that out; I hate having expenses but no income, and it's really bothering me. But I have to get a National Insurance Number or something first so I can pay tax on it. I was talking to a girl about it before class today and I think there's a job center down the road that can tell me what to do on that front, because I really would like to work somewhere and start establishing a nest egg for when I get back.
So about three weeks ago I was informed that I was invited to a reception with the NAFUM board (the ones who gave me that scholarship). It was near City Center by the main branch of the library, and it was a chance to meet and socialize with some big shot Mancunian muckety-mucks. I was one of only four scholarship-receiving students there, and I'd say there were about six or seven board members, along with one or two wives. I was making the rounds and all (you know how much I love meet and greets) and one of the guys asked me where I did my undergrad degree. I gave my standard response of "A really small college in upstate NY" because nobody around here has ever heard of Elmira, and he asked where in particular, so I told him. He then turned around and shouted for his wife to come over - it turns out that he had gone to Cornell, she was American, and the two of them had met on the EC campus one afternoon some 40-odd years ago. Small world. And of course, the first thing he says is, "What did you think about the Mark Twain connection? Pretty fascinating stuff, isn't it?" Gag me with a spoon . . . I'm gonna be haunted by dear old Marky T for the rest of my life. I still wish I knew what was up with the bubble writing on his tombstone. Anyway, as far as a meet and greet with board members goes, it was pretty good, and after an hour of small talk we were free to go home. I started walking back with one of the other girls who was there, named Mina. Obviously, since it was the North American Foundation board meeting I knew she was from the US or Canada (Mexico is not part of North America, according to the University; Carlos was slightly insulted by that), and by her accent I was pretty sure it wasn't Canada. We got to talking and I found out that she was from New Jersey. I told her that originally I was too, and asked her what part she was from. It turns out that she's from Englewood, and she couldn't believe that I was from Teaneck. She said, "I bet you were born in Holy Name, weren't you?!" After we got over our excitement, her first question was, "So that must mean you're Jewish!" Logical assumption, given that I was born in Teaneck and am in the Holocaust Studies program, but I told her that no, I actually am not (although Hilary did always tell me that I'm Jewish by association). That gave me a nice happy feeling and reinforced my faith in eventual world peace because she (Mina) is Muslim and was perfectly happy to chat with me no matter what religion I was. Take that, haters. I'm getting so sick and tired of people "wanting to believe" that the majority of Muslims are not terrorists and have no intentions of bombing us, but then no matter how many Muslims speak out against extremists, it's "not enough" or it "doesn't count." Our flat has done quite well with a Catholic, a Muslim, two Hindus, an Anglican Protestant, and two agnostic/non-practicing Christians - no violent religious confrontations yet, and I'm pretty sure we'll be able to hold off on that. As a matter of fact, last week we all sat in the kitchen for two hours and talked about religion and our various faiths, and somehow we managed to do it without killing each other. We even still like each other. Crazy, right?
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