Little Frat House on the Prairie

Last night I went to my first ever frat party, at a fraternity called Delta Upsilon. It was like every other American party I've been to only slightly worse, because it was a lot more like a club night in the UK. It was sweaty and crowded. There was nothing that distinguished it as a frat party, other than the giant Greek letters outside the building and a school photo-style framed picture of all the members. At one point a lot of people were dancing on a fairly narrow raised platform, and I got pulled up onto the platform only to realise that I would inevitably fall off and hurt myself, so sat down on it for ages instead looking foolish. This is what the frat house looked like:

 
To continue the general American-ness of my weekend, I went to Starbucks today to read Little House on the Prairie, which I have to read for my course. Normally I'm not the biggest fan of Starbucks but there's no Costa here so I'm making do with what's available. I don't like how they write my name on the cups (it was mistakenly written as 'Ana' the other day, but today I was served by someone whose name was actually Anne, so obviously she got it right.) As for Little House on the Prairie, it makes me want to go the prairie and build a little house there with three young daughters, so obviously it's doing it's job. The workload here is immense in comparison to the UK, but it's just about manageable. For one of my papers I can illustrate a children's book, which is awesome.

Chicagogate and the American Health Service

There has been a lot of drama amid the British students at Indiana this week, in which certain people got invited on an extremely spontaneous trip to Chicago and certain other people (myself included) didn't. Some people going to Chicago have been extremely guilty and upset about this, having been invited through no fault of their own. Others perhaps less so. It kind of feels like we're all in Year Seven and someone's not invited certain people to their birthday party. A lot of times in the past few days I've suddenly found myself thinking "But we're in our twenties!" It also ruined some plans we had made involving tickets to see Blue Man Group which are so complicated and stressful that I cannot be bothered to explain, except that it is all fine because even though I am now not seeing them I have got my money back.

Although there are individuals among the Brits who I really like, I am relieved that I did not join the frisbee team, and not just because of the physical torture. It's all become a bit too cliquey, which I thought wasn't a thing that happened at university. 

On a separate note, I fell over and grazed my knee during a torrential downpour while attempting to climb over a small wall on the way to class (the path was blocked off and it was the only way to avoid being late.) It became infected and I spent this morning at the doctors and then this afternoon buying new jeans to replace the ones that tore when I fell. 

Here is what happened at the Health Center walk-in clinic before they looked at my knee. I had to see three different people:

1. They measured my height and weight.

2. They took my temperature

3. They took my blood pressure (I said "Um...I'm here about my knee.")

4. They listened to my heart and lungs.

5. They asked me if my parents were alive and healthy, whether I had any siblings, and whether they were healthy. 

6. They asked me about food allergies, medical history, and, bizarrely, drinking habits. I was completely sober when I grazed my knee, it was twenty past nine in the morning. 

As soon as he actually looked at my knee I was out of there within five minutes. It was cheaper than I expected, although more expensive than the jeans. 

On an unrelated note there is a frozen yoghurt shop about a ten minute walk from where I live and the choice of flavours and toppings is incredible. I was in there for two and a half hours with one of the other girls not in Chicago and it is my favourite place on campus. Frozen yoghurt is really good for you so it was basically like eating salad, but with cookie dough and chocolate sprinkles. 

Blood, Sweat and Tears

Tears

It's been exactly a month since I arrived in Indiana, and stress and emotion levels are running high.

Certain people (by which I mean me, but not just me) had a lot to drink and then cried at a party. I was not the first person from Britain to have a bit of a cry in front of other people, I think I was either the fourth or fifth, so that's not too embarrassing. Basically the accommodation situation is not ideal, because my building is pretty antisocial. Everybody seems to only be friends with their clone suitemate, who they share a bathroom with. I mean, literally, there are two large blonde girls with glasses, two pairs of really identical looking black girls, two athletic brown-haired guys, and a genuine pair of identical twins. It's like Noah's Ark. My suitemate, on the other hand, is a Chinese international student. She's really nice, I have absolutely no complaints about her use of the bathroom or anything, it's just she doesn't speak English.

Rather than moving like some of the other English people in my building are doing, which is a lot of hassle, I'm going to persevere. There's a social in the basement tomorrow anyway, and I've got plenty of activities and meetings lined up for this week. Plus I'm making headway with making American friends.

Blood

As for the blood test, it was amazingly ok. I lay down and chatted to the nurse, and at one point somebody called Meryl came to help with something blood-related (I don't know any more medical details than that because I was deliberately not looking or listening properly). As I didn't look at her, I'm going to assume it was Oscar-winning actress Meryl Streep. I didn't feel even a little bit faint, which was fantastic. Plus I've been told I have great veins, so that's a wonderful compliment.

Sweat

I actually have nothing to write about sweat, except that even though I'm excluding myself a bit I have no regrets about not joining the Frisbee team. Apparently yesterday they had to do five push-ups every time they missed the frisbee, which sounds like the kind of thing that might happen in the depths of hell or in a prison for people who have committed the worst crimes imaginable. I am positively celebrating the recent drop in temperature because I prefer to avoid unnecessary sweating.

Other Stuff

The International Student who is not from Kent and had to go to court for drinking three days before his twenty-first birthday had another adventure. This time he ended up in A&E because he was so drunk he had to go on a drip, and now he has to pay over $1000 in medical bills. Bets are being placed on how long he will remain in the United States

The Weird Stuff

America is great, but some things are weird and unsettling. For example:

1. Every day without fail there are a group of protestors outside the buildings where most of the classes are held. They carry signs with lovely slogans like 'Ask me why you deserve hell,' followed by a list saying that all fornicators, adulterers, sodomites, lesbians, fellatists, masturbators, vixens, porno freaks, drunkards, pot-heads, hypocrites, gossips, liars and non-Christians will go to hell. There were some other words that I couldn't make out from the Facebook photo (one of then looked like 'escalators' but it probably wasn't that). Often there a couple of guys outside them wearing rainbow flags reassuring everyone that they don't actually deserve hell, so that's something.

2. Most places that you would expect to sell ibuprofen don't sell ibuprofen. I had to go to the health center*, and then had to give my name and my student ID number twice, before being given a pack of 50 ibuprofen. So enough to last me the entire year then. 

3. A shop that sold toothpaste, deodorant, tampons and condoms did not sell tissues. So far I have not discovered anywhere that sells tissues. America needs Boots. I've not needed to buy new deodorant yet, but I've heard from reliable sources that spray deodorant is hard to come by. As are kettles, but that's a whole separate issue.

4. To be able to enroll in classes next 'semester', we have to take part in a ritual blood sacrifice. The unwilling tributes are summoned one by one for the bloodletting ceremony. Not only must they pay in blood but also in gold. By which I mean all the International Students have to take a blood test for TB, which costs $60. I can understand in theory why this is a good idea, but also I would gladly pay someone not to take my blood. Of course if I had TB I would literally be coughing up blood, in which case they'd be more than welcome to it. My test is on Monday and I cannot wait (no lie, I want it over.)

5. An International Student that I know, not from Kent, was breathalysed after drinking three days before his twenty-first birthday and now has to attend a student court, sort of like Mark Zuckerburg in The Social Network, so that's dramatic. 

6. The American roommate of a girl I know has eleven pillows. Eleven. 

On the other hand, the wide variety of non-alcoholic beverages that aren't tea sort of makes up for all of this. By which I mean, there's lots of pink lemonade and vanilla coke. I haven't dared try the Fanta yet because it seems dangerously orange. 

I also learnt today that during a screening of Disney's Beauty and the Beast for my Children's Literature course that Robby Benson, who is the voice of the Beast, is a professor at IU now, so that's pretty cool. Sadly he did not attend the screening. 

*American spelling only because it is called 'The Health Center', just like the Mall is called 'The Mall.' 

Lightning Storms and Ultimate Frisbee

Parties and Lightning 

I don't feel very well. I went to a party on Thursday night, Friday night and Saturday night, and on Sunday night I was hanging out with people until midnight. I only drank a lot on Thursday, so I am not hungover, just actually ill.

On Saturday night, I ended up at another party hosted by the frisbee team. I learnt another weird fact about America: in house parties where the alcohol is provided boys have to pay to get in, but girls don't. This is really, really stupid. I understand paying for alcohol but I don't understand the gender divide. Being allowed to shoot stray deer with bows and arrows actually makes more sense. It was raining quite a bit and there was the loudest thunder I have ever heard.

After the party, when it had stopped raining, I thought I was heading with a group of people to a party just round the corner from me, but it turned out I was heading off campus on an extremely long walk across Bloomington, to the house of a guy named 'Douchebag Nick.' (He introduced himself as Nick but the douchebag was implied). On the way, we got caught in a lightning storm. It was the heaviest rain I had ever been in, and there were actual lightning bolts rather than just flashes. Douchebag Nick thought it would be cool to take off his shirt and then walk really slowly in front of me.

We arrived at Douchebag Nick's house at around three am, dripping wet, and tried to call two taxis, neither of which showed up. I kind of think they assume we're prank callers with fake British accents. Douchebag Nick offered to drive us home, claiming he's 'a really good driver when drunk.' In the end a girl called her sister who also goes to IU to come pick us up, which was lovely.

Ultimate Frisbee

Despite feeling ill, I thought it would wrong to not show up to Ultimate Frisbee practice after attending two of their parties. I really enjoyed the first four minutes where we sat down on the grass, but after that they asked us to run around the field (I ran a quarter of the way and then cut across.) Everytime they asked us to do any exercise, I wailed 'Noooo' as quietly as I could. At one point I considered running and hiding behind a tree, but I knew they would see me before I reached a hiding place, plus I can't run.

One girl actually threw up halfway though, which was good because I thought it was going to be me that did that. It was awful. They told me it was light-hearted fun but it wasn't. Next practice is on Wednesday but I'm hoping they'll forget I was ever there, or assume my visa expired and I was deported or something.

Funny Questions: 

Is Scotland in England?

Can you run across this field?