2 - Random first impressions (UK version)
“-To observe, Mr, does one need leisure time, or a guide, or a book? No, really! There are people who could spend twenty years in London, and would still come back less edified than others after twenty days there. (…) For who knows how to understand things, everything tells a story and describes; the edifices are explaining the institutions, the physiognomy of the street, the looks of the passer-by, appear as some effects whose causes are revealed, everywhere the eye only meets symbols, and stones have a language. (…) The French rarely leave their country, and when they do venture outside, they travel too fast.” — Francis Wey, Les Anglais chez eux (1854)
Pause. I know what you’re thinking, the quote, it’s pretentious. But I just bought a 3.2 kilogrammes book (a bouncing baby boy) on the Franco-British relations since Louis XIV, so I’m planing to use it.
It’s now been exactly a month since I landed in Leeds. I say landed, but I still haven’t got the impression that I touched the ground at the end of my ‘big jump’.
The 13th of September, I did take the Eurostar, then changed in London for a national train to Leeds, escorted by my redheaded boyfriend and my mother, as sympathetic baggage porters (❤).
To see one last time my dear neighbourhood of Gare du Nord (literally ‘the northern railway station’) before my departure could almost have made me shed a tear, except for the fact that I really could not stand it anymore.
When coming back 3 weeks later, I would notice quite depressingly that the passer-by already had forgotten my name, since they persisted to call me ‘babe’ or to do delicate noises with their mouth to catch my attention. How forgetful.
And this is precisely one of the first culture shock (more than positive in this case) I was confronted to:
- In England, you can wear an extra short skirt and a photoshoot make-up, and people will leave you ALONE. In fact, it’s more than that. You have to wear a mini-skirt and heavy makeup for your night out, it is the rule. Local particularity: the intensive use of glitters.
To make up (haha) for lost time, I want to do a non-exhaustive list of these micro-culture shocks that struck me as soon as I arrived.
For starter…
- Their campus, man, it’s something.
But also…
- In Yorkshire, the cashiers call you ‘hon’ (for ‘honey’), the sales assistants ‘mi love’ and the waiters ‘darling’ and ‘dear’.
- The Liverpool accent is quite tricky to understand, as I was able to observe with two of my flatmates. For example, ‘my family’ becomes ‘mi famili’; and ‘the snow’ becomes ‘the sna’.
- Despite the English bars being a 100 times cooler than ours in France, having 10 000 different (and less expensive) biers, and their waiters being 100 times more polite… I already miss the Parisian ‘cafés’.
- Good to know: the typical English will only go out of his way for you in the street if you look at him in the eyes. Otherwise he will not move for you even of an inch. You two are risking to crash into each other’s, even if he knows perfectly well that you’re coming right at him.
- He barely had arrived that one of my flatmate had to leave, since the bed was too short for him. #Typical cliché of the tall English guy looking like the Prince Charles.
- BEANS AND PIE EVERYWHERE.
- Their special relationship with cemeteries:
- Here, wearing a hijab or even a burqa, even in class (as seen), it’s not the end of the world. The Islamic Society had the front stand when I got to the club and societies fair.
- Oh, and they have a lot of these clubs and societies: more than 320, totalising 19 000 students in Leeds. I’m thinking about joining LSTV — the only student tv of England to broadcast on a real tv station (!) — (EDIT: I did it), and maybe Leeds Student Action for Refugee (STAR), the Backstage Society — which manages the ‘behind the scene’ of several shows and performances — , the French Society — wines and cheese guaranteed— , and/or the History Society.
All of these clubs belong to the Leeds University Union (LUU). Its brand new building comprises a supermarket, crowded restaurants and bars, a night club, offices for the societies and clubs, a huge refectory… and a shop selling University of Leeds merchandising.
As for me, I fell for a badger teddy bear.
- Since I’m here, I’m rediscovering the significance of good teaching methods and the real utility of the university administration.
Every each person I met — the teachers in each of my classes, my tutor, the people in charge of the School of History (my ‘parent school’), of the Global Community, International Student Office, Study Abroad Office, and Student Support and Wellbeing, as well as various associations — literally everyone, insisted that they were the first person we should talk to if we encountered any difficulty whatsoever, and were ready to redirect us towards the appropriate service if needed. We were given tons of clearly written prospectus and recapitulative emails. (Which contrasts with the Sorbonne University and their never-ending ‘Oh, I can’t help you’, without providing any further help.) - English teachers don’t go on strike because their social benefits are at risk. English teachers go on strike mostly because their freedom to teach is called into question. Recently, it was against the possibility of firing them for quote ‘other substantial reason’.
- A little counterexample? My young (and adorable) teacher in ‘Men and masculinities’, with half of her scalp shaved, and cheerfully asking us to introduce ourselves and to give our favorite animal, during our first class… Typically English, right? No, she is in fact French.
This article was a little bit of a ‘catch-all’ rough draft, but after a month without posting anything, it needed to be said! I hope that in spite of that it gave you a little glimpse into my life in Leeds :) See you next time, in less than a month I hope! (EDIT: fail.)
