Through the Looking Glass

When one thinks of studying abroad the ultimate question is "Where to go?" Most people would think that because I chose to study in England I'm copping-out, but even when I feel like England isn't very different than the States I almost always eat my words.

The differences are quite literally like day and night. During freshers' week in England the days of filled with bureaucracy and the nights filled with borderline hedonism. There are events every night from fancy dress parties, pub crawls, and in the case here at Edge Hill even a mass takeover of a three story club in Liverpool. I might as well dye my hair blonde and put on my blue frock, because I have officially stepped through.

Painted girls who are proper ladies in the day drink like men, polishing off pints like they are going out of style. The boys walk around the dance floor posing with bottles of the European equivalent to Smirnoff Ices, sporting haircuts that are more expensive than mine. And I can't help but look around and wonder "When did I take the Merseyrail into Wonderland?". I can't see because there is so much smoke and so many strobes I feel slightly epileptic and paranoid because amazingly, even in a sweaty thrall, I feel alone. But even though it's quite different and frightening, it's the best fun.

The University almost seems to encourage students to go out and party, especially during freshers' week, and to this American this is the strangest most foreign thing imaginable. But then again, the attitudes here are different. They seem to understand how to balance nights of partying with studying and writing papers in a way I have never seen before. The older generation looks not on the younger with contempt about the chaos they cause. They do not look at them as if they are anything but young people. Here the adults seem to understand that this is what goes on when one is young, and they seem to never have forgotten that they too were young once and stayed up until four pressed up in a tiny pub full of sweaty people with nine o'clock lectures in the morning.

Other things I learned my first two weeks in England:
Boys expect the first move, which is a. utter crap in my opinion and b. surprisingly accepted by many of the girls.
The student union has a bar, which to be true is common enough in America, but how often does a person in the states see students drinking pints (and in rare cases vodka and Sprite) at noon in between classes?
You have to really try to get arrested by the cops. If the cops "break up" a party they essentially just tell you to keep it down. No scatter drill required. Things that will get you arrested: punching a cop.
A quick way to a man's heart is by telling him you drink Heineken. Or by downing a pint. Or making fun of him. Whichever comes first.
Boys do, indeed dance.