In which I am American (surprise!)

I find it weird that people don’t realize I’m American immediately. Sometimes I will be talking to someone for a number of minutes before they realize. I guess I’m used to being treated as I was in France, with immediate recognition either because I was speaking English or because of my inferior French accent. The guy I was talking to yesterday asked me if I was American or if I was “just putting it on.” That is a hilariously ridiculous concept if I have ever heard one. The situation itself was bizarre – he fell into step with me as I was walking to the library and asked if I knew of any good sandwich shops nearby. I love the idea of a British person being approached by a stranger and immediately affecting a perfect American accent. Ludicrous.

I do love hearing British people do American accents – it literally never gets old. They vary widely – Ben has a Southern accent straight out of “Gone with the Wind,” Jarrai has perfected hers from years of watching American TV and it’s so accurate that it freaks me out when she does it, and then there’s the sandwich guy. I didn’t even realize he was trying to sound American until he added “sista” at the end.
I’m hoping to develop a consistent and passable British accent by the time I leave; it’s hard because I know people from so many different regions. I tried doing an impression of someone once and Jarrai told me I sounded Cockney.

So much more work this term! This week I had my philosopher essay due Tuesday, my tutorial Tuesday afternoon, and I have a presentation on an entirely different subject (Rousseau and his reveries) in class Friday morning and an essay on women due next Tuesday. It's nice to be busy and in tutorials with people my age but I am glad that I was eased into it last term with my one short essay a week.

My tutorial is very different than last term. Whereas my first tutor was tutoring for the very first time, my new tutor has clearly been around awhile. What he studies (16th and 17th century French medicine and science) interests me to an extent more than what my previous tutor studied (business and media history). Our tutorial was neither him lecturing nor solely discussion. The best history and art history professors I’ve had recount historical events like they’re reading a storybook. And they always seem newly mystified at that which they are talking about. There was an enjoyable amount of this kind of "storytelling" in the tutorial. I also enjoyed our discussion yesterday because I felt like I had more of a grip on the subject than last term (stupid 19th century England). Not only because I’d read about it for the last week but because I honestly could happily talk about any part of French history until the end of time.

Plus my tutor gave me written feedback (with handwriting more difficult to read than Grandma’s) on my essay which is always helpful.

Now that my subject matter has changed ever so slightly, I have found myself in the downstairs of the Keble library where the French books are kept. Guess what they have downstairs? The fancy slide-y ladders to reach the upper shelves! I used one the other day and mentally added climbing one to my life list just so I could check it off.

One of my greatest pastimes is judging other people at the library. Hey, guy sitting next to me, I think unbuttoning your shirt three buttons might be a BIT MUCH for studying. Hey other guy over there in the turquoise jeans, button-down, tie, sweater, and tweed jacket. With a vintage briefcase. Take it down a notch. Or you, dude, smiling at your computer because obviously you are Facebook chatting with someone amusing. Adding to the list: people who cough all over me, obnoxious girls who talk over the barrier between the desk, couples who come to study together (I find this half cute, half obnoxious)

I have a love/hate relationship with the absolute silence in the Bodleian. I get a perverse pleasure out of silently shaming the person who forgot to turn their phone on silent but I would also like the ability to carelessly turn the page if I want to. The silence is literally almost too loud. And you have to sit there and endure it because no books can ever leave the Bod. You have to take a vow about it upon becoming a student here and they check your bag every time you come in or go out. Keble Library on the other hand is populated with familiar people and friends who have no qualms about telling other people to shut up. I am allowed to check books out there. But it’s also dark and old and lacking a lot of the books I need. Not to mention the librarian who thought I was pregnant is there almost every day. Eesh.

Lastly: my tutor amused himself immensely by telling us what French philosophers thought of the New World. He told me that I, being American, must have always learned that the New World was the hope and future of the world (in fact, I can’t remember anyone ever teaching me about the New World outside of “Pocahantas” and books about the pilgrims). French philosophers instead saw it as a wilderness which would never be civilized. Also, next time someone asks me where I'm from, I am saying "The New World. And you?"