The one in which I don't really answer the question...

Everyone asks me the same answerless question:  “How are classes?”  They’ve been asking me this practically since the day I arrived in London.  For the first two weeks, I didn’t have any classes.  I got tired of explaining that classes haven’t started yet, the international students are the only ones here, that the other students have arrived, but now it’s Freshers’ Week and everybody is settling in, that yes, classes have started, but we’ve only met once and all we did was go over the syllabus and I have no idea if it’s a good class, we haven’t done anything.

So I got creative.

“I don’t know how classes are.  I haven’t been to any yet.  I’m up all night getting drunk and having sex with strangers, and by the time I wake up, mid-afternoon, with a hangover and a few STDs, I’ve already missed most of the lesson, so I just don’t bother.”

It’s fun.

But now I’m six weeks into classes and I feel I can no longer avoid this question.

On Mondays, I have Gender and Sexuality in Ancient Greece with Professor Deacy.  It’s a fascinating class and Professor Deacy is very enthusiastic about the subject.  I sit with a girl named Kelly, who lives nearby.  She and I have lunch together after class. (That’s right.  I made a friend. Feel free to express your awe and wonder and extreme pride at any time.)

On Thursdays, I have Ancient Greek Religion, also with Professor Deacy.  I don’t talk to anyone in this class, except for Professor Deacy.

On Fridays, I have Sexist Language with Professor Mooney.  This class may well be my favourite, as it’s based more in discussion than in lecture, and what amazing discussion it is.  One of the most interesting issues we confront is how we identify sexism in “language” when we don’t even all speak the same English.  The majority of the class is, of course, British, but Professor Mooney is Australian and I’m American.  There are a few other students from other cultures as well, and we take great pleasure in comparing our various ideas of similar terms (e.g. when do we use “lady?”) and our various terms to describe similar ideas (e.g. Dr Mooney asked one day if there’s a male equivalent to “lollypop lady,” and if so, if the term is lexically symmetrical (lollypop gentleman?).  The class started tossing ideas around, and I, completely lost, asked “what’s a lollypop lady?” Dr Mooney said they’re the people who stand at crosswalks with stopsigns, which look like giant lollypops, and indicate to schoolchildren when they can cross.  “Oh!” I said, “Crossing guards!” “America!” Dr Mooney cheered.  Dr Mooney is often enchanted by Americanisms, especially when we neatly sidestep gendering terms.).  Also, we mock the saccharinity of traditional romantic ideals together, which is always fun.

Oh, and on the bus today, two dogs (a golden shepherd and a yellow lab) snoozed under the seats in front of me.  They were quite possibly the highlight of my day.

Food-from-home craving of the moment:

Chicken thumbs from Copper Blue.