British Military Training

Trepid with uncertainty, I walked into the gym hall where more than 50 people were finishing up the previous aerobic class. Most people were huddled in groups of five chatting away about this or that. I slipped next to an athletic looking boy, who, like me, didn't seem to be here with anyone else. Lucky for me I thought. I'll just stand close enough to him that people will think I'm not alone. Then I'll follow his lead and won't be completely lost. My plan was only flawed in that I had no clue what was happening and he didn't see to want to chat. I resigned myself to being an outcast and stood anonymously, scanning the room for a hint to what to do.

A older gentleman walked the center of the room. Everyone else, at this point, hugged the perimeter of the gym, still lost in conversation. Out of no the man pulled a whistle and gave it two short blasts. Immediately, without batting an eye, everyone in the room commenced moving. Some jumped up and down, the people next to me started doing sit-ups, one group was hurdling benches, and others were doing calf raises. Still dumb founded I stuck to my original plan: do exactly what the kid next to me is doing, which was hard to decipher, so I just start jumping around.

By this point I've figured out this is not the weight resistance circuit training I'd anticipated. The room is full of about 20 stations. Each station is a different aerobic activity: running, jumping rope, and wall squats. At each station are about five people. Anyone doing the math can determine there were about 100 people in that room. 100 hot, sweaty, panting athletes. I got to about the second station before I could barely breath due to a lack of clean air. I bet I smelled pretty bad, but unfortunately for me the worst sweat-transgressor seems to be a hairy bald guy in the group in front of me. Every time he got up from sit-ups he left a fresh layer of moist sweat behind. He was wearing a thin white beater that did little to cover his bear-like back hair. After walking past him once--smelling the most horrendous odor I'd ever wafted--my only objective for the rest of the night was not to be in sniffing range of that man. I made it through the rest of the night fairly unsuccessful: his stink left a trail to each station.

The two circuits we completed ended the same why they began. Everyone just knew when to stop and in unison started to clap. This time I joined in vivaciously. I couldn't wait to be as far away from the smelling man as possible!

However, the workout was not quite over. People started picking up mats, which I thought meant we should all chip in to pick up, so I picked up a paper sign that had one of the station's direction on it and looked around for where it belonged. But people who knew what was happening had taken their mates and were having a seat on the ground. The older man with the whistle said something that was undecipherable, so I stood dumb-faced with my piece of paper in hand. Then the whistle man said something again and everyone ran to take a seat. Apparently we didn't move quick enough for him, so everyone had to do five push-ups. Then he continued to speak some incomprehensible form of British and yelled "Oye." A small group of people yelled back at him. Again, we had to do five push-ups. This time when he yelled "Oye" I made sure to raise my fist and give a hearty "Oye."

The workout continued by him leading us in various strange exercise that were all but impossible. When he finally released us I ran for the door, and left the clean up for someone else to do.

Maybe I'll go back. But only so I can see if the faces of any new comers are as baffled as I was.

How to Talk British

Although some may say British people speak English, communication is more complicated than one would first imagine. For several reasons cross-Atlantic communication is almost implausible.
First of all, no two British accents are alike. There are such a wide range of accents in England that make it more than impossible to understand some people, while others conversation flows effortlessly. The posh Hugh Grant accent I was expecting is hardly in ear shot. Apparently his accent is an Southern academia accent. Here in Leicester, I'm told, most of the people speak with a southern influence, although none really sounding like Hugh Grant. As I'm told northerners seem to be a bit more lazy with their speech and tend to blur words together. I think it's the northern accents that leave me staring blankly at some unfortunate souls. The longer I stay the better I will be able to spot the differences between accents, and, even more impressively, the better I will be able to understand all of them.

Another interference in communicating with the English is slang. Here's a list of words and phrases that aren't quite the same in both countries:

Brolly= Umbrella
Trousers= Pants
Pants= Underwear
Are you alright?= How ya doin'?
Lift= Elevator
Cheers= Thanks/Hi/(whatever you want it to mean)
Toilet= Bathroom
Bathroom= your going to have to pee your trousers unless you think to use the term toilet
kilograms= i don't really know how much I lifted at the gym yesterday
pitch= soccer field
blades= cleats
football= soccer
American Football= football
fit= hot (good looking)




Note: hand gestures are also not the same. A backwards peace sign that in America would mean "I'll catch you later dude" is equivalent to the middle finger in England.

I've heard of a few other differences, but none that I've had to deal with. When I do come a cross a difference I'll be sure to update this list!

My Room

I deliberately signed up to share a room with someone. I thought it would be the best way to force myself to have a friend. However as soon as I got here I was given a single room. I didn't really think I would enjoy being isolated, but I must admit the privacy is delicious! I've already read a book and I never have to consider the feelings of a roommate. I don't know how I'll adjust to having a roommate when I go back to the states. Right now I'm loving having an entire room to myself!

Phoenix Theater

Background: Phoenix theater is an independent cinema in the city center. It is an intimate setting with a cafe on the top floor and bar on the lower floor. It's become quite apparent that no one in Leicester is expected to do anything without a proper lager. Myself, not quite in the ale drinking spirit, was quite pleased to find they served ice cream! Aside from a few sparsely located Baskin Robins I haven't been able to spot any decent ice cream shops.

The Movie of the Night (drum roll please)... Slum Dog Millionaire. Wow, what a production. I can never again complain about being cold, or being hungry, or being poor. The movie was moving, inventive and eye opening. I can only imagine what the lady next to me thought as I squirmed to shield myself from some of the intense images on screen. Not that everyone would have this issue; I suffer from a meek heart. If you haven't already see this film; it is a glimpse of one life in the slums of India.

Getting to and from the movie theater wasn't bad at all. I really feel like I'm getting a handle on the bus system and the layout of the city center. It's been easy sailing for today, at least.

How I come to blog

Now that I've been in Leicester for more than a week I'm already forgetting what my first impressions were of the new people and places I'm seeing. This blog is to share my experiences and impressions of England with the people from home. I love you all and hope this is a better way to explain what I've seen and done whilst studying abroad...