Nebrask-huh? Haha.
BLOG #1
I usually find that moment getting off a plane or train in a new place to be clouded by a short frenzy of trying to figure out what is going on, rather than an enlightening euphoria you see in films. We landed in Lincoln late, like 10 or something, but on my body clock it was closer to 4am. Lincoln airport is small and nice, quite homely. It’s essentially one big room with an escalator leading to the four gates that feature there, a model plane hangs from the ceiling like a mobile and there’s only one luggage conveyor belt. Not only that but the whole place is finished with a lovey green carpet, if I wasn’t so tired I probably would’ve quite appreciated it.
Elise plods, so I got downstairs before her to be greeted by the very enthusiastic (and poor vibe-gaging) international students who’d already spent a year or two at the university and volunteered to transport us all to the airport. They would scream and jump at the sight of each new person who stepped off the escalator and throw a name badge and welcome pack in your face before bombarding you with questions of where you come from, what you do, how old you are, why you chose Nebraska etc and didn’t seem to notice how drained everyone was from 18 plus hours of travelling. They were the most American non-American’s I’d ever met, they had the accent and everything, maybe I’ll be like this after a year, I thought, and come back to Brighouse absolutely insufferable to everyone and everything I come into contact with. Hopefully not, my one aim during this year was to maintain my accent, not least because of all the myths of how American girls react to an English accent (but also because of the brutal and merciless bullying I’d receive back in England if I returned saying stuff like y’all and ‘za (short for pizza)). I didn’t feel like talking to them, so I grabbed my bag from the Lincoln’s only baggage claim conveyor belt and sat down to wait until enough people gathered to fill a bus, joined by Elise a couple of minutes later.
My first night in Nebraska didn’t consist of much, as I’m sure is the case with many nights in Nebraska. We drove to campus that was just on the edge of town and any tired glimpses I got of Lincoln didn’t tell me very much. I didn’t really get to see much of campus either because my accommodation- Schramm Hall -was right on the edge of it, conveniently, as I found out a week later, on the opposite side to where all my lectures would take place. I was too tired to do much thinking or observing anyway and was still getting over leaving everyone at home for so long, it was weird to think that they’d be up in a few hours and just like go to work and stuff while I woke up in Lincoln Nebraska and had to literally live here now.
We got to Schramm and me and Elise got out and walked over to the big grey cinderblock looking building that held our rooms, which was more of a challenge for Elise who kept allowed her bag to fall onto the side with no wheels and the proceeding to just drag it along the concrete- apparently not realising this made transporting it a lot harder, despite studying physics. Schramm made up one side of a kind of square courtyard thing on the edge of campus with identical cinderblocks Harper and Smith making up the two adjacent sides and the dining hall completing the little party. We got in to a nice little lobby type area with a desk where someone sat (obviously), some chairs, letterboxes and lifts, around the corner were vending machines, a few little study rooms and a huge chill space with a games area, sofas and a fucking massive TV.
Schramm and I a couple of days after arriving in Nebraska.
We had a mixed relationship.
This stuff I noticed in the next few days as in that moment I was slowly losing the wrestling match I as having with jet-lag, so we got the keys to our respective rooms at the front desk (I was on floor five) and went to the lifts. The lady showing us the way gave us welcome packs with a few cereal bars, a toothbrush and I forgot what else. We got to floor five and I said bye to Elise and wandered over to 506 where I immediately dumped my stuff and laid on the bare mattress, taking off my jacket and having to use it as a pillow and turning the air con up to avoid shivering, not the comfiest of nights sleep. I didn’t know Americans liked their rooms freezing cold? Why? Despite the sub-par sleeping conditions, I passed out and woke up early the next day, tired but not sleepy- don’t you love jet-lag?
It was raining a shit tonne that morning, I was awake at like 8 and sat on my bed and looked at my room for what felt like the first time. It was really big. With the door on one side, windows on the other side and a big, white, tiled floor in between them, I have to say it did not feel homely, especially without a sheet on the bed. There was a mirror, drawers and a wardrobe on each side of the room as well as a desk as you’d expect. I was pretty much done exploring my room after the first few seconds of looking from my bed and sat there for a minute thinking ‘what now?’ before laying down with my phone for a bit. I walked over to the window after about ten minutes and stood there admiring the view of the car park, the road at the end of it and the funny looking piles of sand a bit further along. They looked like they belonged to a factory or something. It was still raining but I had to do some things that day.