Feet

I am crippled. I've been limping around time for a few days now, with ups and downs. It all started on Sunday, after mass (mass in the cathedral crypt, not as impressive as it sounds, but still good). I walked out and all of a sudden my feet hurt excruciatingly much. And it didn't really stop. So on Tuesday I went to the doctor's and now I'm scheduled for an ultrasound of my foot to see if I have a little thingy on my nerve of my foot which they then have to inject and it should be fine. Or it is not that and then I will need new support soles. Either way, I am temporarily crippled. Not fun.

Winter in Liverpool

When the cold hits in England, it truly hits home. While in Belgium you can more or less ignore it til the start of December, at least, everyone has been complaining about the weather since the start of November, if not even from before. Cold is different here. Cold is more penetrating, more icy, more encompassing. I have been wearing the standard two pairs of socks since the start of the month and when I plan on staying at the library I always take my hoodie as an extra layer against the slumbering cold. I am yet to come into a house where there is not a hint of a draught coming from the windows or the door, creeping up on you while you are watching tv or reading a book. My house in particular is absolutely freezing during the day, as we only put on the central heating between 5 and 9 at night (and 5 and 7 in the morning, but I am never awake at those times and therefore my heating is never on). Before I left, my good friend Lance gave me a blanket-sized fleece and whenever I want to watch some tv in the lounge I trail it along, covering myself up and trying to hide my frosty toes underneath of one of the pillows. The cold is so bad that I barely eat, as it means getting out from underneath of the covers and making myself some supper. Which means I am of course even colder, as I have no energy to burn. And the winter has only just started. You can imagine how grateful I am to myself for taking my dressing home back with me on my last trip to Belgium. It has kept me warm on many a day in the past few weeks.

Today was the first day I had to face the dreaded English rain. I must say, it is not as bad as Belgian rain (English rain is either heavy or light, Belgian rain is a standard drizzle, soaking you through and through in a matter of minutes but still not heavy enough to take shelter), but the wind makes it almost unbearable. I had to bike from the university to the Jobcentre and then home (all in all about 30 minutes), and boy, was I cold and wet when I came home. And I couldn't dry my clothes on the heating as the boiler wasn't on til about three minutes ago. I can only hope my shoes will dry out nice and clean and will not smell of damp clothes as my old pair did. But yes, the rain. In the past week the rain has been almost a constant to our lives, making us run from building to building and forcing students to take shelter in the libraries, resulting in packed and damp floors with almost no computer to spare. Luckily I have taken my refuge in the Harold Cohen Library lately, the science library which has so many computers at its disposal that you never fail to find one. Plus the widescreens are amazing. Anyway, I always managed to beat the rain by walking with my hood pulled tightly over my eyes for short distancing and taking a bus or taxi for the long ones. But today I had no choice, I had to cycle the long, cold road which is named Lawrence Road (never doing that again, that is for sure) while the rain splattered in my face and the wind blew my hood to the back of my neck. It wasn't fun and it made me crawl into bed with my duvet and my fleece blanket when I came home, tracky bottoms replacing my soaked jeans and my dressing gown firmly tied around my waist. And still I am cold, though the heating is slowly coming to life. But it's not the cold or the rain which is worst. Oh no, that would be an easy task to carry, sitting inside with hot chocolate and biscuits, while Jeremy Kyle gives his advice to the scallies of Great Britain. No, the worst of all is this bloody daylight saving time. In Belgium it is bad enough, the sun sets at half four and everyone creeps back in their houses trying to preserve some warmth and light in their lives. But in Liverpool, the dark hits at three o'clock, half three if we're lucky, and before you know it, it feels like it's evening and all is cold and dark and scary. Your day feels like it is over, while you are only halfway (only one fourth if you're me, waking up at twelve). It is depressing and makes me wonder how the town does not empty itself once November hits, everyone travelling to the sun. Money is of course the issue, but by Jove, if there is one thing about England I thoroughly dislike, it's the weather and how it makes me feel. I haven't felt this miserable for no particular reason in a long time, and I am quite sure my mother (and most of my family) would positively drown themselves if they were forced to live here for longer than a week. Luckily I can bear it a little, blaring away the darkness with a brightly lit laptop screen in front of me and some chocolate at my disposal. Let's hope Spring comes soon, and Summer next.

Studenthood

So. It has been some while again. I am currently in the library, typing on a qwerty keyboard, the clock reads slightly after ten and my eyes are swollen and red. Ergo, this is too early a time and too serious a place to be at. And yet there are a whole bunch of people around me. The study-culture in Liverpool is so very different from how students live and work in Belgium. It seems to be a "constant vigilance" situation (in the words of Mad-Eye Moody), and yet it is not as if the evaluation is actually much harder than in Belgium. I would even claim the opposite: to pass in the UK one only has to obtain 40% and the biggest paper I have had assigned to me has been one of 3000 words. I don't really know what to write about, I would be very happy if our professor just gave us a range of subjects and we could just choose one, as I have no idea where to begin if I can just about write about anything. So, this should be interesting. Now, I certainly wouldn't say I am afraid of the exams, I am just a little in dubio as to whether I will be able to perform properly, as this system is so very different from the Belgian one. Then again, I have spent the last four years learning how to write papers, so I don't really see how it could be a problem to write yet another couple. I am sure I can charm my way into a pass (and by this I of course mean with my words, not with anything else).

But there is still so much to sort out. I need to get money, somehow, and my registration seems still incomplete, and what about my tuition fees? I have not had a moment of peace since arriving here, or not really, at least. There is always that worry in the back of my mind and I cannot wait til I finally sort everything out and can focus on university and stress about THAT. Because even though I am very confident about my abilities to pass, and pass with a good grade, a student always feels a certain anxiety which lies in the fact that in the end, it is the professor who decides your grade and fate. That thrill, the tiny beating of your heart, is slightly intoxicating, exciting, reviving. It is the thrill to studying, the edge, so to speak, and I haven't really had time to feel it at all. At the end of the day, I feel less like a student than anything else, and I miss the feeling to be one. So let's hope that once I get my life sorted, I'll feel the freedom of university once again.

Belgium: the follow-up

According to my housemate this is now the wrong blog to post on, as I am actually in Belgium. Which makes quite a valid point, were it not that I do like to write about being here and that I desperately need some new posts. So, Belgium.
I have been very busy meeting people and catching up with them, so busy even that I have never once succeeded in checking all my blogs in one day. And that says a lot. Anyway, I arrived late on Tuesday night, stuffed some fries down my mouth and went to bed. On Monday, lunch with the housemates was lined up, followed by a social call with two others, dinner with Preparee, followed by training and Reynaert. Wednesday was of much of the same stramine, involving some shopping for contacts (those are SO expensive!), lunch with Katrien, coffee with Bee, dinner with Hannelore and Birgit, watching Kick-Ass (such a weird film) and drinking with the housemates. Early night, which was good (some catching up with Liverpool was prone). And today, well, today is busy again. Lunch in twenty minutes, then drinks at 5 and dinner at 7. Should probably find something to do inbetween. Or someone, but that sounds rather rude. More impressions later, when I do not need to get cleaned up and dressed in less than fifteen minutes.

A night's travels

I ended up stuck in Lille and in Brussels (not at the same time, as these are in two separate countries), calling friends but not having any salvation, crying my eyes out in despair, almost ordering a taxi with three other strangers for the humane price of 16 euros each, considering playing out different taxi drivers against each other, until all of a sudden the train to Leuven flashed up on the announcement screen and I ran up the stairs, accompagnied by ecstatic bouts of laughter, spent a train journey discussing Belgian politics in English with a Wallon software engineer who wanted to practice his English and has a vintage online clothing shop and finally arriving at my old dorm at one o'clock in the morning, where three of my old hallmates welcomed me, before setting out for a bit of true Belgian fried food and a nightly stroll, followed by a solid night's rest and a wake-up to Belgian morning.

Belgium

I want to go home, now. At the moment, so many things are on my mind, of which money is, as always, the biggest issue, and all I wanted to do is go home and relax. And what do I get in my inbox today? An email from Eurostar saying that my train home has been cancelled. If I'm lucky, I'll be stranded in Lille (France) on Monday night and then maybe one of my friends will come pick me up, if I'm not, however, I will be spending the night at Euston station. I am not happy, at all, right now. I am so stressed and just had such a bad day today, where everything that could go wrong went wrong, that I just want to cry and sleep and not wake up til I have heaps of money and everything goes well for me in this world.
Belgium was supposed to be amazing, a breath of fresh air, a week of unforgettable memories, and this has just made it a stressful event which I wish I could just skip. Or better even, not just a trip, but an actual coming home. I am so tired of not having money, of not knowing where my next meal is coming from, how to pay next month's rent. I just want one stroke of good luck. That's all. And what do I get? A cancelled start to my trip.

Time for bed. Time for sleep. Time for tears.

Quickie

I have been so very busy the last week that I simply haven't had time to check my emails, let alone write a blogpost. I have been having heaps of fun and am very happy, but I am also ridiculously tired and ill. I have caught Fresher's Flu and am suffering from it, to such a degree even that I will not be able to go to class tomorrow, no matter how badly I want to. It'll be a day of staying in as much as possible, sleeping in, cleaning my room, calling some people and trying to get some money matters sorted. And then frisbee at night, of course.
But, I am happy, and that is what counts. Speak to you all soon.

Oh, yes, before I forget: I dropped Latin. Well, I didn't exactly drop it, I just dropped going to class. Why? Because I had six years of Latin in secondary school and it turns out that that is useful after all. It's strange how quickly it all comes back to you. Easy pass? I think so!