Ok, so I have Internet access. Finally. It’s been a really freaking long trip, but I’m finally in the dorm, mostly settled in. I’m not completely unpacked yet, but I’m getting there.
The story so far:
The plane took off about 45 later than scheduled because of some late passengers. I guess it’s nice to know that they wait for people, but whatever. I was really tired, but couldn’t sleep at all. There’s just not enough space in a typical plane seat. And the couple next to me sounded like they had tuberculosis or something. The guy sitting right next to me had a particularly loud and braying cough that not even my headphones could cancel out. But I don’t appear to have caught anything life threatening, so that’s ok.
We landed more-or-less on time after a very long and tedious flight. I had about an hour to catch my bus to Stansted when I got in line at customs. By the time I was through the line, I had about 15 minutes. The lady checking my passport asked to see a letter of acceptance from the university. I told her it was in my luggage, and that I had been told my visa would be enough (I had been told that. I’m a bit miffed with my councilor at the moment, for this among other things). After much deliberation and, on my part, sweating, she let me through anyway and I went into the actual airport area to grab my bags. I saw Dowd (Daud? tall guy. red hair.) there too, but didn’t get a chance to say hi because I wanted to catch my bus. I grabbed my bags and went out into a very confusing area with signs for several different buss terminals pointing in several different directions. Then I saw a lady with a sign around her neck saying “Students! Ask me for help!” yay! So I asked her for help and she directed me to the proper terminal for my bus. “Just down the ramp, follow the signs for Central Bus Station. It’s about ten minutes walk.” After giving these directions, she asked if I had a ticket. I said yes and held it up. she said
“Oh, 9:40... You’ve got time, but you must go now.”
“Yes. Thank you.” said I.
“Now that’s just down the ramp.”
“Yes, thanks.”
“And follow the signs.”
“Ok, I will, thank you.”
“It’s the Central terminal.”
“Got it.”
“It’s about ten minutes.”
“Then I guess I should go, thanks bye!”
I fled. It was a five minute walk. I reached the bus with time to spare, though not much. It left ten minutes earlier than scheduled, so I got lucky. After a long drive, during which I slept for about fifteen minutes off and on, we arrived at Stansted airport, where I would catch my next bus.
I got off the bus and started walking down the row of busses, checking the destinations of each. Turns out, my bus was the very last in the long row, and it pulled out just as I was close enough to read “University”. Argh. Not a huge deal, those busses are hourly, so I settled in to wait. As I was waiting, more people began to gather. One of them was a girl named Kelly, who is in the Army. She’s originally from Liverpool, was stationed in Germany, and was on holiday to see her boyfriend in Colchester. I told her I was studying at Essex, and she got a look on her face that rather plainly said “why?”. She proceeded to inform me that “Oh, all the sluts come from Essex” (it sounded much more charming in an accent) meaning the county of Essex not the university, but really, didn’t give me a great opinion of the area. Ah well.
Another girl came up to me eventually who is also from America. We introduced ourselves and I promptly forgot her name, which I think, having been awake for over 24 hours, is forgivable. She was also going to Essex, so that was good: we could find the Accomodations Office together and perhaps get food. We boarded the bus when it came. The driver was rather surly, but we didn’t have to talk to him so that’s fine. An hour and a half later, we got off at the University stop (it would have been sooner if the driver hadn’t stopped for a smoke break). Erin and I (I found out that is her name a few hours ago) got off and looked around for any clue of where to go.
Essex university is situated in a rather hilly area. Buildings are built on top of hills and in the low places between the hills. We were standing at the base of these hills with huge suitcases and little sleep. We could see the North Towers, though, and I had read that the Accomodations Office was between them, so we proceeded upward along a poorly paved bike path, stopping frequently for rest. Finally with got to almost the top of the hill, and the bike path ended. We were pretty close to the North Towers but didn’t really know where to go next: we couldn’t see any pavement on which to roll our suitcases. So Erin went on a scouting mission and found the office while I waited with the suitcases. She came back a short time later with her housing info and pointed out where the offices were. We parted ways, rolling jerkily across the grass. I think there’s still grass stuck in my wheel actually... I should see to that.
Anyway, I got to the Accomodations Office and got my keys. One thing I’ve noticed about Britain so far is that, if you want any information you must ask for it. People do not volunteer anything that might be useful. I asked about my bedding and about internet access. The woman told me that my bedding had been sent to a place called Central Stores, and that I should ask around to find where that was because she couldn’t mark it on a map (really, if you could see this map, you’d know why. It’s the most unhelpful map I’ve ever used... or tried to use). Also, I should go soon because they close early. As far as internet, I would have to register my computer with the Computer Help Desk, to which she gave me (inaccurate) directions.
So I went over to Tawney Tower through what looks suspiciously like a loading dock but is, I am assured, the main entrance. Since then, I have learned that all doors look like that at the University, and you should just ignore the signs that say “Emergency Fire Exit, Alarm Will Sound” or you will never get into or out of a building. I found the lift and went up to the eighth floor and stepped out into the elevator lobby... maybe elevator cubicle is a better word. And stopped. I had no idea where to go next. There were no hallways leading off the cubicle, and only one door, which was marked “Fire Escape”. I have since then found the other door, which was cleverly disguised as a wall, but at the time I was forced to take the long way round. I have not yet found any stairs other than this fire escape, so it looks like I won’t be getting my exercise that way.
My first look at my hall was.... frightening. The hallways are extraordinarily narrow and dim. So are the doors. I found room 12 and went in. Ah. the rooms are at least wider than the hallways, but despite the attempt at hominess in the seafoam green walls, it still looked like a prison cell. I figured some bedding and my stuff on the shelves would fix that, so I put down my suitcases, emptied some heavier stuff from my backpack though I left my laptop inside, and set off to find Central Stores and the Computer Help Desk.
It was not easy. It was not fun. After asking directions of SEVERAL people, each of whom gave me conflicting information, I happened upon the place by chance. It is in the basement, which is a sub-sublevel built in the depression between two hills. Navigating this campus is like playing a Zelda game – you know there’s a treasure on another cliff level, but you can’t find the stairs (or they’re all marked “Emergency Exit”). I finally overcame my (apparently cultural) avoidance of enormous metal double doors which, in America, would have KEEP OUT, FACULTY ONLY, etc stamped all over them, and found a way down to the basement. Excellent, Central Stores was still open. Things were looking up.
I went in and signed for my package. The guy handed it over. It was enormous and weighed a LOT. Probably not so much to someone who hadn’t been up for as long as I had, and who didn’t have a computer on their back, but a lot. And it was awkwardly sized – tall and narrow, or long and short, however you want to look at it. I gave the guy a look that was like “seriously?” and he shrugged and was like “It’s not too heavy.”
“And I’m to carry this?”
“Yeah. Where do you live?”
“North Towers.”
“Ah well that’s not too far.”
Yeah. Not too far as the bird flies, but as I walk, it’s up several flights of stairs and through several sets of door that are not meant to be navigated with a tall heavy package in one’s arms. I had to rest several times. I passed several people, none of whom even offered to lend me a hand, but I finally got it up to my room. Then I went BACK out to get my computer registered. I found the computer help desk after similar misadventures, and asked the man how to register. He handed me a pamphlet and said I could do it from my dorm. FINE.
I walked back to the dorm and decided I did not want to deal with it. Instead I would put my sheets on the bed, shower, and go to sleep.
I couldn’t get the box open. Apparently, they don’t believe in regular old packing tape. This was the stuff with cloth threads running through it. My pocket knife did the job, but so did brute force. Scissors would have been much easier, but my pair were in the box, so... yeah.
I took a shower in my flat’s ONE SHOWER, brushed my teeth in the ONE BATHROOM (this may be an exaggeration: I have not yet been to the other side of the flat, which is separated by several doors, but I am sure they also have one shower and one bathroom), unpacked a little, and went to bed. It was 5 PM Essex time.
I woke up a little after 7 feeling very refreshed. I decided that now would be a good time to tackle computer registration so I could talk to my friends and family, and that would make me feel better too. So, I do all the stuff the pamphlet says, and get to the last step of registration, which is actually online, and find out I need a username and password, which I get off of my University ID, which would also have been really great to know before I went through all that crap.
I went back to bed.
This morning was the first day of orientation. I had most of my questions answered, and even found the lecture halls with a minimum of frustration. The University is mainly one building that all interconnects, with four courtyards, in a big square, but there are some stray buildings hanging out off on the sides. The lecture halls are in one of these. When you get a room number to go to for a class, though, they don’t name what building it’s in. You’ll get something like this: 3.411. The three means 3rd floor, the 411 means room 411. What building is it in? You actually have to guess. There is no other way to do it. Chances are, it’s in the main building, which helps a little (but it’s so big, that even that’s not much help). But it might be in one of the stray buildings. There is literally no way to tell. I asked.
“So you just have to... guess?”
“Pretty much, yes.”
“No building names?”
“No, but you get a floor and a room number.”
“Oh.”
All of the exchange students are pretty horrified. As for me, I will be leaving an hour early for class. Oh, but we did get our ID cards. And I paid my first term rent, which was A LOT OF MONEY. I can pay second term online though, and get a discount.
So, ID in hand, on my lunch break I went back to my room to register my computer and have some internet...
Or so I thought. For some reason my password didn’t work. I went back out to the Computer Help Desk, and had a word with the same guy. He told me that my password had expired, and I needed to change it. All right. Weird. But ok, sure.
“How do I change it?”
“Well, there’s a website.”
“Um?”
“Oh, use a computer lab.”
“Ok, how do I log in?”
“Use the username and password on your ID.”
“I thought it had expired.”
“Oh, it’ll work for that.”
This place has some issues. So I went back for the rest of the days’ orientation, signed up for the Cambridge trip Sunday, and got a lot of information on interesting things to do in England while on holiday.
I also found out that Good Friday is a public holiday hereabouts, so it’s no problem going home on the 21st, where normally there’d be classes. Also, rather interestingly, the last day of exams is June 6th. Not the 26th or 27th. June 6th. And you’re free to go after that. So... this may change some travel plans? I don’t know, if I had internet I’d send out a quick email but as it is, I am typing this in word.
After orientation, I went to a computer lab and changed my password. Then I remembered that the people today had suggested stopping by your academic department (in my case, literature) and picking up a handbook with advice about various things. I found that, got the handbook, and also found out that my councilor had neglected to enroll me in one of the classes in which she had told me I was enrolled (further miffedness on my part). I got that straightened out, found out what time and what room numbers my classes are meeting, and purchased the course packet for one of them. I’m told that the rest of the classes don’t have texts or packets: they just give you a reading list, and you read as much as you can off of it, and then write a paper at the end of term. Odd, but it means I can just check stuff out from the library instead of buying a bunch of books.
I then went to pick up a sandwich at a little convenience store on campus. The sandwich cost as much as the course packet, but I’m not sure if that means the packet was cheap or the sandwich was expensive. I think it’s both. Some girls were going down to Tesco’s, which I’m told is like a Wal-Mart, but it was raining and cold and a bit of a walk so I didn’t. Anyway, they were going into Colchester first, I didn’t feel like paying for a bus ride (going to church every week is going to get expensive). Maybe I’ll go tomorrow (to Tesco’s not church), because I really do need some food. Until the sandwich, I’d been living on granola bars.
Then I successfully registered my computer!
... annnd was told I have to wait up to two days before I have Internet access. argh. And now, a shower, reading, bed, and maybe tomorrow when I wake up, there’ll be an Internet waiting for me.
