Eating pecan pie and beating Clemson

Finally the festive season is upon us... and for those of us lucky enough to be living in the Land of the Brave, get to celebrate Thanksgiving before the consumer orgy of Christmas descends. Obviously, this is all of us Internationals' first ever Thanksgiving, which is held in celebration of the food that the Native Americans shared with the Pilgrims when they first arrived in America, enabling them to survive... to then go massacre the Natives. But we don't talk about that. Anyway, basically it's when everyone goes home and eats. Which kinda sounds odd, but it's now officially one of my favourite holidays...mainly because I like holidays, and I love food. So, Anna invited Rachael, Lucy and I to her family Thanksgiving which is held in Atlanta, at her uncle's house. So we borrowed her mum's 7 seater car and set off on the three and a half hour journey...which was largely uneventful, apart from when I started freaking out because I had seen a "genuine red neck!!!" He had a grey beard, camo peaked cap and jacket and was driving a filthy pick up truck, complete with mandatory Confederate flag on the licence plate. I felt like I was on the set of My Name is Earl. But aside from that, we passed the time quite nicely by listening to the radio, which seemed only to want to play about four songs on repeat, mainly Party in the USA, and Fifteen... both of which I now know pretty much every word to. We arrived in Atlanta in the afternoon, after a food stop at the most ghetto McDonalds I have ever come across - in one short Filet o' Fish based meal, I saw massively obese people, black guys in ghetto outfits, the American equivalent to chavs, a lot of tracksuits, and a couple of soldiers in full military gear. Gotta love the South! Atlanta is all very modern, as the Union forces burnt the entire city when they moved through it in the Civil War - and me and Rachael honoured Scarlett O'Hara by running through the streets shouting "Ashley! Ashley! The Yankees are comin'!", but the lack of columned white houses didn't help me get into character much. We wandered about downtown Atlanta, going to the Olympic Park, which had various statues and lots of flags (though no Australian one, much to Lucy's disgust), and a very bizarre set up of water fountains that shot out water at varying heights and arrangements in time to songs such as "Dancing in the Street". I didn't understand this at the time, and I am not going to attempt to explain it. It was dancing water fountains, and that is all. We looked at the Coca Cola factory and the aquarium from the outside (lack of funds), popped into the CNN centre, and then attempted to go to the mall just outside the city. Unfortunately, the directions given to us by a woman who worked in a pizza place sent us not to the mall, but to a row of strip clubs. Bummer. So we gave up and headed to Anna's 'Grandma Ginger's' house, where we met some cousins and an aunt, and ate green beans, chips, coleslaw, pork and chocolate chip cake. Then we headed off to Anna's aunt and uncle's house, where we would be staying. The neighbourhood was beautiful, full of massive detached houses, and covered in trees with their leaves turning orange, and a golf course and p

layground and a pool for the whole estate, which everyone drives around in their golf buggies instead of cars. (We even saw them parked in the car park in Walmart....). The next day was Thanksgiving day, so after waking up and being wished "happy thanksgiving" for the first time in my life, we watched the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade on TV. This is run every year by Macy's department store, and consists of hundreds of floats with massive, eight storey high inflatable figures on various themes - pilgrims, pirates, santa claus, dogs, Pokemon, disney characters, princesses, M and Ms, etc etc, with people singing and dancing on the floats, and children riding on them waving, and marching bands with majorettes, dancers and cheerleaders. It goes through New York City, and it's very exciting and festive, and very American. And then finally it was thanksgiving dinner time... we went to Anna's cousin's grandparent's house (the whole extended family, about 20 of us, were there), which is beautiful, and all decorated inside with turkey figurines, autumnal themed tablecloths and leaves... and a ridiculous amount of food greeted us! After saying grace, us (being the honoured visitors) were allowed to dig in first. There was a whole table stuffed with green beans, mac and cheese, brocolli salad, two types of stuffing, sweet potato souffle, the biggest turkey I've ever seen, plus two other types of meat, two gravies, hard boiled eggs, redcurrent sauce, bread rolls, cheese cake, angel food cake, brownies, pecan pie, and my new favourite thing in the world, strawberry pretzel cheese cake. Which consists of a layer of crushed pretzels mixed with butter, a layer of strawberry jelly with strawberries in, then a layer of whipped cream. I could eat it forever. And so we spent the next three hours just eating and eating and eating.... and then we napped on the sofa, when everyone else watched the NFL american football on TV, and then woke up and ate more, and then went back to Anna's aunt's, and ate cold leftovers whilst watching The Santa Clause. It was incredible. I could eat that food everyday and never get sick of it. I am bringing Thanksgiving back to England, I swear! The rest of our evening was spent in the outdoor hot tub, under the very starry and bright sky, seeing our breath in the cold air and drinking white wine and talking about anything that came into our heads. The next day we had to return to Columbia, as the big football game was the next day. The journey was uneventful except I had my first ever Taco Bell... and listened to the same songs over and over again!

Saturday dawned with bright blue skies and sun, and Anna and I caught the bus at 9 45am (possibly the first time I've seen that time on a weekend in about a year) , dressed in our Gamecock colours, to go tailgating before the game. We wer

e playing Clemson, who are the other South Carolinian university, and our biggest rivals, who have beaten us for the past seven years, so the game was bound to be intense. We met up with Anna's friend from

high school, who took us to her family's tailgate, which was in a private, gated area, with proper toilets and speakers playing The Beatles (made me feel at home). We had mini muffins and fruit salad for breakfast, and drank mimosas ridiculously early in the morning, watching the pre -game on the two wide screen TVs they'd set up from the boot of their 4x4. And then it was game time... the atmosphere in the student section of the stadium was insane. There was 89,500 people in attendance and every single one was vocal, especially the

students. Everyone was chanting, singing, dancing to Sandstorm, making the gamecock hand sign, waving towels around and jumping up and down on the bleachers screaming. It was intense for the entire three hours the game lasted, and as it became more obvious that USC was going to win, we got even more over excited, to the extent that there were shoulder to shoulder police along the edges of the pitch to stop us rushing the field. Fans starting waving their keys at the Clemson fans (code for go home), and when we won there was fireworks, music, screaming and dancing on the bleachers, complete strangers jumping on each over, hi

gh fiving and hugging... it was amazing. It was so intense, so exciting and so much fun, I finally fell in love with american football! And the celebrations afterwards were equally good... some people from Clemson were over, crashing on our bedroom floor, and drinki

ng games, Pop's Pizza, and going downtown dancing ensued... I woke up on Sunday, walked into our living room, and saw four fully clothed (including shoes) students passed out on our floor, with Smirnoff Ice bottles, beer cans, half full cups of vodka coke, and empty wine bottles lined up along our counters and filling our sink. What a weekend.

45 important life lessons I have learnt this semester.

1. Flying loses its appeal very quickly.

2. Americans really do have great teeth.

3. When you need to look sad, think of a bear...dying...eating another bear.

4. You miss the smallest things about home the most.

5. Vodka pineapple, Jagerbombs, Tiffany, a pack of cards and your crowd of rowdy International girls is all you need for a really good night.

6. I am actually very patriotic and proud of my country... who knew?

7. "Having the shits" means being annoyed in Australian... snigger.

8. Hill Billies really do exist - witnessed on the Interstate to Atlanta.

9. People really do think that if you live in England, you live in London. And think it's funny when you quote Forgetting Sarah Marshall , "it sounds l

ike you're from LUN-DUN!". No, I am not. And I am quite obviously not a cockney, either.

10. You can make some of your closest friends in the space of a few short months.

11. English skin can tan.

12. Skype has prevented me having a nervous breakdown.

13. The old adage "you don't know what you've got 'till it's gone", is so, so true.

14. Sweet tea, raw cookie dough, Marble Slab ice cream, black bean burritos from Moe's, unlimited pancakes at IHOP, and Insom

nia Cookies make everything better.

15. I really, really, really love my family and my friends from home.

16. I actually enjoy watching American Football....

17.... but can't play it to save my life.

18. Thanksgiving is pretty much a holiday celebrating food. And therefore one of the best holidays ever.

19. I am pretty much married to my room mate Rachael. We argue over toilet roll.

20. Teenage girls are pretty much the same, regardless of which country they come from... and I love them all.

21. South Carolina has the most beautiful sunsets.

22. Porching is a great pastime.

23. I couldn't live without Ed. And our four hour long Skype chats.

24. It is perfectly acceptable to shout "COCKS!!!" at the top of your voice, as long as you're in the vicinity of William Brice Stadium.... or any Gamecock fans.

25. Frat boys really are exactly the same as in the movies.

26. Jumper = Babygro, pecan is pronounced pe KANN and aluminium is spelt differently.

27. When you're an underage drinker, whenever you see any police, at any time of the day, you immediately feel very guilty, and as if you should possibly jump behind the nearest wall.

28. I could live in San Franciso.

29. "Holla!" is a perfectly acceptable greeting.

30. I want to be a Hooters girl.

31. I have a lot of Tiffany's sisters.

32. They really use Solo red cups here... and play beer pong like it's their job.

33. American dollars are not Monopoly money.

34. I have made friends that I hope I keep forever.

35. Monsoon standards of rain is pretty average in South Carolina.

36. I love seafood...especially clam chowder and fried calamari and apricot sauce!

37.Americans really do say "y'all", "awesome" and "holla"... and now I do too.

38. I love sky diving.

39. American rap music is funny... strangely enjoyable.

40.I love all my new international friends

41. And my friends from high school

42. And from Warwick

43. And my family

44. And Ed.

45. I am the luckiest girl in the world.

Things I miss about England...

Bright blue, freezing cold sunny mornings.

My parent's roast dinner.

£1 Archers and Lemonade in Kasbah on a Monday.

My smelly dogs keeping my feet warm.

Eating M&S rocky road biscuits with Polly.

Pitchers of Frilly Tutu from Spoons.

The countryside.

Radiators....instead of air con.

Hot water bottles.

Watching crappy t.v. with my family in the front room.

Sitting in bed with Hetty on a Tuesday morning, swapping gossip from the night before.

Cold weather.

Proper vegetarian food.

The In betweeners.

Going shopping in Harrogate with my mummy.

Drinking legally.

Good dance music.

Not having people stare at me because of my accent.

Watching Top Gear with Rory. ..... and Sarah and Keiran.

Having insanely lazy days with Ed, watching t.v. and eating fatty food all day.

English accents on the t.v.

Hour long hot baths reading novels I've read three million times over already.

Indian takeaways.

F2.

Going running by Rootes lake... and being chased by canada geese.

Healthy food.

Having alcove days in Rootes with rose wine, Kettle Chips, chocolate and chick flicks.

Custard creams.

Lying in Jess's bed, distracting her from doing work, along with the rest of F2.

Having sleepovers in Grassington.. and Keighley... and Carleton... and Cononley.

And the people who know where these places actually are.

BAD KITTY.

Dr Who. The X Factor.

Seeing someone you know every time you leave the house.... whether in Skipton or Warwick.

Cuddles from my parents.

Having a bitch with my big sister.

Topshop. Primark.

Well dressed people.

Posh British accents.... and Northern accents too.

Public transport.

Being able to see the people I love by just getting on a train, not by an 8 hour flight.

Saying "babes" and "lol" and people knowing you're being sarcastic.

Words being spelt right.

Words being SAID right.

Heat magazine. And More.

Grumpy people.

My Yorkshire girls.

My F2 family.

My actual family.

Ed.

<3

Homesickness and Hicks.....

So, the hot American weather finally decided to break and turn into something vaguely resembling regular Autumn weather. Unfortunately, for South Carolina this means a convincing attempt to mimic India during monsoon weather. Equally unfortunately, neither me or any of the other Brits thought it could get even slightly cold Stateside (at least in comparison to Northern England) so therefore left out essentials such as boots, coats, jumpers and umbrellas whilst packing. But we do have a lot of flipflops. And summer dresses. At least we have an almost valid excuse to not go to class on a Monday morning now...serious risk of drowning. But the temperature is still sub-tropical compared to good old England; at the moment it's still around 20 degrees during the day. I can't believe how fast I've adapted to this weather - at home that would be mid summer, and I would be in shorts... and now I'm whining that it's chilly, and wearing my Ugg boots! Pneumonia may well be actually a serious concern when I return to Yorkshire over Christmas...As well as the depressing weather, I have depressing amounts of studying. I have an exam every ten minutes on average (ok, maybe a slight exaggeration), and about three million papers (not an exaggeration....). Although the content is significantly easier than in England, it's the sheer volume they demand that's scaring me.... and also the fact that you are expected to learn pages of facts and regurgitate them, rather than learn a few then apply them in an essay exam. So whilst in theory it should be easier, it's just very different and hard to get used to! A nice diversion from the awful weather and the awful work though, was a trip to the state fair last week. I know I keep saying this, but it's actually true; everything in America is bigger! For those who have experienced the Skipton Gala (you poor things), you probably know what I class as a fairground. SC State Fair is not quite the same. It has probably about thirty full size fairground rides, and going on a hundred food and games stalls, all lit up with millions of neon lights. It is pretty much the epitome of Southern cliches; pure bred Hicks, with moustaches and chewing tobacco and checked shirts with hundreds of grubby children, big black women with cornrows, metal detectors you have to pass through to get in, and the encouraging sign assuring that anyone wearing "gang related clothing" or carrying concealed weapons will not be allowed. Thanks for the reassurance, guys. I don't even know where to start with the food; let's just say, I'm beginning to realise quite why obesity is such a problem here. Corn dogs are hot dog sausages, dipped in a batter made of corn bread crumbs, then deep fried. Elephant ears are flat dishes of deep fried pastry covered with cream, sugar and chocolate. Think deep fried Mars bars are gross? Here, you can get deep fried cookie dough, Oreos and even deep fried Pepsi - the latter being balls of deep fried batter with Pepsi injected into the middle and soaking through. My conclusion is that everything I tried from the above list tasted like variations of Yorkshire pudding. Elephant ears tasted like Yorkshire pudding with sugar on. Deep fried Pepsi tasted of Yorkshire pudding soaked in Pepsi. Unfortunately none of the international students had any idea what Yorkshire pudding was. But trust me on this one,they did taste like it. As well as State Fair shenanigans, we have been celebrating multiple birthdays in the past few weeks, mainly centering around going for a drink and a dance downtown, and also a trip to another, odd American oddity; the disco bowling alley. I.e., we went ten pin bowling, and at about 10 30pm, they switched on loud club music and disco lights and started to serve alcohol. Strange indeed. Another thing America does bigger than England is Halloween; this weekend we went on a search for our outfits, to the biggest, exclusively Halloween store I have ever seen. It was the size of the average Topshop but entirely Halloween orientated; wigs, outfits, tattoos, tutus, stockings, fake gravestones, eyeball bubblegum, transvestite shoes, dog dress up, baby outfits, pumpkin carving sets.... anything you could ever desire to celebrate October 31st, and for any sane person, far more than you would ever desire! But we secured some amusing outfits for Saturday; She wolves, convicts, go go girls, flappers, sailors and nurses. I feel sorry for the people of South Carolina when a large group of rowdy International girls hits them... and this time, in fancy dress! Now I've been in the States for ten weeks, this is officially the longest time I've spent away from home in my life...I'm definitely beginning to really look forward to going home in six weeks. I'm missing the home comforts of my parent's cooking, my dogs cuddling up next to me on the sofa and my own bed, as well as all my family and friends who are continuing on with their lives that I am no longer a part of! It's very weird... on one hand, I feel like I've been here for years, I fit in so well and have made so many great friends, but at the same time I can't believe I'm coming up to the home straight of my first semester already. As I get older, I begin to realise how fast life goes by...I'll be retired and a grandmother before I know it!

We got more bounce in California than all y'all combined...

One of the very few advantages to being in a long distance relationship is that you can pretty easily justify extended holidays to your other half's location. Which is what I've been doing for the past week in California with my lovely boyfriend, Ed, who is studying abroad at UC Berkeley. So on Tuesday afternoon, two hours after my last midterm exam, I hopped on a plane for eight hours as if it was the most normal thing in the world. My steadily worsening flu didn't add to the flight's enjoyment, but I had a lovely suite in the Hilton waiting for me in central San Francisco, so I couldn't complain (upgraded, thanks to pulling the accents card, again.) Our first day in San Fran was spent waltzing around high-end stores, pretending to have enough money to shop there. We ate amazing noodles downstairs in Macy's, admired diamonds in Tiffany's, and had canapes and champagne in Armani - where I oogled the actual dresses worn by celebrities on display (Madonna, Victoria Beckham, Charlize Theron etc.) to various awards ceremonies, and Ed decided what kind of suit he'd buy, if he had a few thousand dollars going spare. The evening was spent on a boat trip to Alcatraz - the "inescapable" prison on a rock, off San Fran. The view of the Golden Gate Bridge and the city from the water was stunning, especially as we were there in time for the sunset. The prison itself was also really interesting - I felt like I was on the set of Chicago. The cells were tiny and miserable, as were the shower rooms and dining hall. An audio tour described the various escape attempts, only one of which was successful - although the three men who escaped were never heard of again, thought by many to have escaped to South America, as they were allegedly learning Spanish before they escaped! What is more likely, unfortunately, is that they drowned or were attacked by sharks off the rock. Al Capone was an inmate there, too, for a few years. After landing, we wandered along Pier 39 and had incredible seafood for dinner.

A visit to Golden Gate Park was equally memorable - contrary to the name, it is nowhere near the Golden Gate, but beautiful nonetheless. We knew it was big, we didn't know it was big enough to be lost in for about four hours...slightly different from the parks we know and love in England! This one had playgrounds, museums, aquariums, galleries, botanical gardens - and a host of vicious, overly tame squirrels and Canadian geese, both of which everyone else appeared to find cute and cuddly, whereas me and Ed quite literally ran away from a flock of geese at one point. And were continually attacked by squirrels. But we ended up having a lovely afternoon in the sun, eating cinnamon sticks (warm sticks of doughnut-like batter, dipped in cinnamon sugar), and massive portions of battered mussels and coconut shrimps, with sweet chilli sauce and sweet potato chips. Our stay in San Fran ended on a rather more crazy and intense note - by attending lovEvolution. This is a massive, world renowned rave music festival, of which there are two components, the parade and stands during the day, and an after party at night. After checking in at our hotel, located conveniently close to the nightclub (but also conveniently close to a lot of tramps, strippers and drug dealers, it appeared) we wandered down to the area which had been cordoned off for the festival. It was packed out with girls in neon corsets and tutus, girls in bikinis, with thigh high platform boots and pink hair, and fairy wings.... and boys with brightly coloured bracelets all up their arms and pierced faces. They were like walking works of art, and nearly everyone single one was drugged up to their eyeballs, at 4pm on a Saturday afternoon, in front of City Hall. This could never have happened in South Carolina... or England for that matter! There were no police around, just some relaxed-looking security, so the atmosphere was laid back and fun. Live acts were playing and we jumped along to them before grabbing massive slices of pizza and heading back to the hotel to get ready for the afterparty. It was the biggest club I've ever encountered - not that it was even a club, but an auditorium. The acts, including Groove Armada, who were amazing, were up on the main stage, and all the floor and balconies were open for the ravers to dance in. There was probably around 8.000 people there, all dressed up and throwing themselves about. It was so, so much fun - it wasn't intimidating at all, because everyone was having such a good time. It was far friendlier than your average beery British nightclub, the music was incredible to dance to, and the outfits were beautiful. After raving non stop for about four hours, and probably being the only ones in there not high as kites, Ed and I hit the local fast food joint for some grease at about 4am. Where we were instructed by a black girl with attitude to stop being so nice to the servers "You ain't in England no more! You gotta put your foot down here, ya know what I mean?" It was actually probably very sound advice, seeing as our order took forever to come...So, San Fran treated me well. I could definitely live there; it was so much more chilled than somewhere like London, there's a lot less rushing about and a lot more kicking back going on (probably due to all the weed that gets smoked). It's a beautiful place, with incredible amounts of quirky, hippyish shops down backstreets , smelling of incense and dreadlocks, contrasted with the decadence of the expensive shops and tourist traps. There are so many homeless people there - the city is apparently very relaxed about them. The vast majority seem completely harmless, and bizarrely, a lot of them are really clever - they sit around reading library books and holding witty signs, pushing all their belongings around in overloaded shopping trollies, black bin bags swinging from the sides and a couple of cans of beer rattling around in the bottom. They are also very complimentary - if I ever find myself desperate for male attention, I'll head back down to the parks of San Francisco. Ed was advised to marry me, told he was a lucky man and was asked if I had any sisters (Gillian and Polly - you were, by default, hit on by a tramp approximately 7000 miles away from you. Good work!). A woman in dungarees also commented "Daymn dude, your woman's hot!" Haha. Oh the joys of being attractive to the homeless and the gay. So, leaving behind San Fran and onto the campus of Berkeley, about forty minutes on the subway. Obviously, it is known for its academia, but also for its radical anti-Vietnam war and pro freedom of speech movement in the 1960s, and this still leaves an inherent mark on the campus. It is not free standing, but rather situated in the city of Berkeley, with a few main streets as the centre of campus. There is lots of green space to lounge around on, which students do, with their laptops and books. Ed and I lazed around in the heat (how odd for October!), reading The Economist and eating the best frozen yogurt ever encountered - with flavours like peanut butter, gingerbread, milk tart and strawberries and bananas, all topped with piles of heath bar, kitkat, cookies, choc chips, condensed milk, gummy snakes, fresh fruit and M & Ms. There is far more of a political feeling there than I've encountered at either Warwick or South Carolina - the communists were out in force, shouting "All you've heard about communism is a lie! Capitalism is a failure! Revolution is the solution!", as well as the pro-Palestine brigade, and the beardy students in jeans handing out flyers encouraging walk outs in protest at the recent cuts in funding at the university. Just off campus, there are rows of lovely little quirky shops and market stalls, selling piles of tie dye t shirts and leather bangles and big silver rings. Ed took me to the most adorable Brazil cafe for lunch, which was basically a shack on the street, painted with bright murals of Brazil, where they cook the most amazing, spicy food, huge sandwiches filled with jalapenos and avocado, and lashings of hot sauce, and cups of delicious mango smoothie to soothe your burning lips. They give you brightly coloured "wish ribbons" printed with the words "aihar do senhor do bonfim bahia", which you get someone to love to tie around your wrist in three knots, and to make three wishes - when the knots fall out, your wishes come true. Ed's house itself is as quirky as its surroundings. It is an ex fraternity house, (now jokingly renamed "Alpha Commenwealtha" by them, as the residents include English, Scottish and Australians. It is filled with a mish mash of people, and covered everywhere with dark wood panelling. It was his room mate's (actual room mate, they have to sleep two a room in Cali, the housing's so expensive) 20th birthday, and in true male style they decided how to celebrate it on the day itself. What ensued was a masterpiece of luck, blagging and serious motivation. Greg had no idea what he was doing for his birthday - he was simply told to don black tie and get in a car with a few other boys and me. After a confused two hour car journey, where we managed to go over the same toll bridge twice in about ten minutes, we saw, in the distance, tiny figures jumping out of planes, their bright parachutes trailing behind them. Yes, we were going sky diving. In suits. I had only been told this about an hour before I left, so I wasn't exactly prepared for such antics - but still, I had been wanting to do it for a while, and with some gentle encouragement (i.e. booking me a place without asking me first) I was up for it. Due to my lack of black tie, I got a fetching red jumpsuit to dive in. We were all strapped to instructors, with a camera man for each of us to take photos as we jumped. Two miles up in the sky, in a tiny plane, the ground looks pretty far away, trust me. Especially when they open the sliding door on the side, and the wind is rushing past so loud. But by then, you don't have any choice. Luckily, only one boy jumped before me - had I been the last one I would have been screaming like a baby watching everyone fall out face first of a plane, then having to do it myself. When you're free falling, you think of nothing. The air is so cold on your face, your lips might freeze, and you feel the freest you ever will in your life. It's the most amazing, invigorating, endorphin boosting experience. It's onyl when the parachute opens that you begin to register you just jumped out of a plane. Parachuting is the most beautiful thing - you really do feel like you're flying, watching all the tiny houses and people below, and the fields and bay and horizon stretching out in front of you - I never ever wanted to land. I got to fly my parachute too, pulling one arm out to turn around to see the rest of the boys jump from the plane, to spin right around in circles, and moving my arms up and down to drop faster or slower. I really was ridiculously happy up there, as if I could fly forever. Also, I was less likely to die now that the parachute had fully opened, which is always a cheering feeling. All these crazy experiences took up a lot of time, and all too soon, I had to leave Cali and Ed. On our last night, we climbed the hill overlooking the campus up to the "big C", a 20 foot painting of a C (for California) on the side of the hill, to watch the sun set over the city, bay and San Francisco in the distance. It was so beautiful, all the mist hanging over the clock tower turning pink, and the marching band practicing below us, the sounds of the brass floating upwards. As I flew back to South Carolina, I looked out of the plane window. We were flying above the clouds, and the moon was shining down on top of them, making them look like rolling, fluffy hills. It was such a breath taking sight, knowing all these people were living their lives miles below, whilst I watched the clouds float above them, illuminated like greying candyfloss. Although I missed Ed like a physical pain in my chest, wanting to spend every second of my day with him, and faced a long weekend alone catching up on my study, at that moment I realised how far I'd come, and how ridiculously lucky I was. There's nothing like counting your blessings miles up in the sky, with unknown city lights peeking though moonlit clouds.

Yet more football and cockroaches....

This post has an over riding theme, which is football (again). The cockroach only comes in at the end, so hang in there if you want some more skin crawling bug antics. Firstly, my new experience of this week was that I attended my first ever home football game at USC's William Brice Stadium, which was very exciting. Everyone had told me in advance what a big deal "game day" is, but I hadn't realised it was to such an extent. At about 2pm on Saturday afternoon, us girls all started getting into our black dresses and doing our hair - for games here, a lot of the girls go quite formal in black dresses with garnet accessories (our school colours) and wear nice make up and shoes. We accessorised with tasteful USC logo temporary facial tattoos and cracked open the vodka and orange - even for me, being fully made up, dressed in evening wear and drinking vodka at 2pm on a Saturday was a little strange! After a few (too many) we headed off to go tail-gating on the shuttle bus the university runs to cart all us rowdy students to the stadium about twenty minutes away. Tail gating is a massive deal here, and is nothing like we have in England. Everyone parks up their massive SUVs, gets out the bbqs and six packs of beer and all sit around outside their open car boot doors, drinking, eating meat, watching the pre-game commentary on TVs in their boots, and just generally being very, very american. And usually drunk. And wearing a lot of black and garnet. By no means is this just students; rather the opposite. Some of the best tail gating spots in the car park outside the stadium can cost $10,000 a season - even by London standards, that is one hell of a car park fee! A lot of the crowd are alumni, families and just locals who all come along for the ride. College football here is just as popular as league football, and the entire area support the local university team, paying a lot of money to buy tickets for the 80,000 seater stadium. Once we'd battled our way in, past all the fast food and drunken college students and settled into our seats on the "bleachers" I began to realise just how vast our stadium is. To put it in context; the O2 arena in London holds about 20,000. Wembley holds 90,000. The Gamecocks's stadium is huge. And it was a sea of garnet and black, all cheering and chanting and smelling of beer and sweat and excitement. The cheerleaders were fresh out of Bring It On, complete with midriff exposing tops, massive white bows in their hair and painfully excited smiles. I'm not going to lie - when the game was actually in play, I had no idea what was going on. I just cheered when everyone else did, and still didn't grasp the concept of why the teams keep swapping over every five minutes. But it was still so so much fun - the Alma Mater (USC anthem) and National Anthem were sung - both of which I knew not one word of, there was the school's massive marching band at half time (who practise outside our Halls every Sunday morning, so I already knew their repertoire inside out), and a girl twirling flaming batons. The Navy cadets from the military base on campus (yes, apparently it's fine for military bases to be on university campuses here) unrolled a huge American flag, and it was all very red blooded and patriotic and good fun. Unfortunately we ended up leaving just after half time, as the combination of painful shoes, heat, screaming and early-afternoon drinking had got to us all, so we bailed and went to Bojangles for buckets of diet Coke and piles of fries.

Remaining on the topic of football, we went to watch an away game at a house party last week in the Woodlands, which is a local student housing complex - though nothing like ones in Britain, bear in mind. These ones have an on-site gym, outdoor pool, tanning parlour, wide screen tvs and bare wood floors in the apartments. As expected, most of us got bored of watching a game we had no understanding of ,so we all ended up reclining in the super sized hammocks by the pool. Unfortunately, the sophisticated and relaxing evening turned into havoc when the boys arrived. Men's minds are obviously wired in such a way that this is their thought process; Water. Jump in. Throw everyone who looks vaguely dry in with you. So one minute, we were all made up, well groomed and wearing cute, well thought out, outfits. The next, there was a lot of mascara running and rusting jewellery. Still, it was more amusing than being inside drinking warm beer. Luckily we left approximately three minutes before the police came and busted the party. Somehow, I think we may have looked a little suspect had we attempted to blend in with the general, non-partying population. "Honestly Officer, this freak raincloud came out of nowhere and soaked us. Pool? I ain't seen no pool....."

We had another run in with football when our first all girls flag football match came around last week. Suffice to say, we weren't the best team USC has seen. To the extent that the referee had to tell us what the rules were...and how to play the game. But we had a lot of fun, and we worked as a team which is what counts, right? So what if the only contact I had with the ball is when Anna threw it in my direction and it hit me right on my left cheekbone? I burnt a LOT of calories running away from the ball, and from the scary, serious freshman girls on the other team. Unfortunately for my team, I was injured this week - they could hardly cope without such an esteemed athlete as myself. Ahem. My injury was caused by trying out another American tradition (I'm pretty much a US citizen now, I swear, I've done all the initiations), a "batting cage" i.e. one of those machines which fire baseballs at you and you hit them (in theory), as if you're playing the actual game. Racheal and I were treated to this fun, but ultimately painful, experience at a classy establishment named "Frankie's Fun Park", where I also experienced my first game of crazy golf. The only crazy thing about it was how aggressive we were at hitting the golf ball, resulting in losing four and only completing 11 holes... then stealing another few balls because they were fuchsia and really quite pretty for such a mundane object. We also had a near death experience on go karts. Racheal passed her driving test the day before leaving for America. The go karts went very fast. There was a strong smell of petrol. And no helmets. And some arrogant man behind us kept bumping our kart. This time, I'm not even exaggerating much when I say near death. Apart from this exciting new experiences, the last couple of weeks have been dominated by a sudden and unwelcome influx of study. I wrote the first "response paper" of my life ( a bizarre concept, in which the general instruction is to read an essay, then say what you think/feel about it. In two pages. Hmm.), and took my first ever one-word-answer Politics exam. The marking system here is crazy -I got 86% in this test, which is a B+. For any British university student, you know this is completely different from our system.... where are my three hour essay exams, thirds, two ones, firsts and 40% pass mark now huh?! Finally; the cockroach. Wow, these things are getting waaaay too frequent an occurrence in my life. Basically, there was a cockroach in my room this morning. It was dead. When I got back from class a few hours later, it's legs were moving. It was definitely, definitely dead this morning. But it didn't just move a little bit, then die again. It got more enthusiastic and started trying to flip over. You can probably imagine my reaction. I'm ashamed to admit it, due to my (obviously flimsy) feminist ideology, but I did get a heroic man to deal with the miracle cockroach. Seriously, SINCE WHEN DO COCKROACHES COME BACK TO LIFE?! Only in America.

Road tripping

So, the elusive Labor (sic) Day weekend arrives. Elusive because no one can tell me why we get a day off classes for it, and what it actually is - but it's a holiday, so I ain't complaining! The plan was for a small group of girls to travel down to Charleston for a relaxing weekend. As with most plans, the plan didn't go to plan. So we ended up in Charleston with about forty other international students. The town didn't know what had hit it. Anna's mum lent Anna her car for our transport - I say "car", it was practically a mini bus. It would have fitted eight girls in pretty comfortably, had we not all brought massive suitcases for a two night stay. Yes, we DID need three going out dresses and a few pairs of shoes each, honestly. As it was, it was a bit of a squeeze, with Anna's rear vision seriously impaired by the tower of bags, and the passengers all getting numb feet from lack of leg room. But it was a funny trip, enhanced by crisps, Cosmo and lots of songs on the radio we could sing loudly along to. As we approached our hostel where we would be staying for the next two nights, we began to believe the people who had warned us it was in the ghetto. It was in the ghetto. Lucy handily pointed out the fact that we were very close to a hospital, funeral parlour and florist should one of us get shot by our sketchy neighbours. Awesome. Thanks to our combined map-reading skills (or lack of them), we managed to pull up in front of a very dodgy looking grimy house, whose curtains appear to have been slashed by a knife, thinking, (incorrectly, as it turned out,) it was our hostel. Luckily Anna double checked the address just as Rachael raised her fist to knock, asking to check in.... Cue screams of "Get back in the car. GET BACK IN THE CAR! WE'RE GOING TO GET SHOT!!". Not an over reaction at all. The hostel turned out to be far more pleasant than that, yet distinctly hippy-ish, and also supplied us with mixed sex dormitories. The staff happily introduced a 35 year old New Yorker male as our "new roomie!!". Suffice to say, we all crashed in one all-girls dorm. Initially, all was going well hostel-wise until about 12pm on the second night of our stay. As I and three others of the party were getting ready for bed, a massive cockroach scuttled across the bedroom floor. Predictably, chaos ensued. Jordan couldn't decide whether to laugh or cry, but there were tears involved. Anna hysterically took photos of both us and the cause of all the fuss, as I clung for dear life, inexplicably, onto her t shirt sleeve, balanced on a very old and rickety bed. At the time, what we did next was logical, rational and sensible. Looking back, we may have over-reacted somewhat. We packed all our bags, screaming/crying/laughing all the way, keeping an eye out for the roach now making it's way across the ceiling. We then put all our bags into the car boot, and preceded to discuss what would be a more sensible option; to sleep in the car with the seats reclined, or to make the three hour drive home now, to avoid sleeping in cockroach room. We were seriously considering both, Luckily, Rachael rationalised the situation slightly with the suggestion we all sleep in the other room we booked; but we spent all night feeling imaginary cockroaches crawling all over our legs, and on a constant adrenaline high.

Our occupations during the daytime were slightly less dramatic. We spent a day on the beach topping up our tans, before hitting the nightclubs of Charleston, after which we enjoyed the biggest pizza I have ever encountered - and possibly the best I've ever found for sale at 3 30am. The next day we had a wander around Charleston, looking at the horse and carriage rides, visiting the market and purchasing tacky tourist keyrings, and browsing at the very up-market shops - Gucci, Louis Vuitton, Saks Fifth Avenue etc etc. Unfortunately the student loan didn't quite stretch far enough to make substantial purchases. Then the three of us who are proud of our geeky sides made a trip to Fort Sumter, where the first shot of the Civil War was fired. Located about half an hour's boat ride from Charleston harbour, it was seized by Confederate forces after a day of bombardment, and remained in Southern hands throughout the War, despite many Union attempts to reclaim it. There are many other surrounding Forts you can see from the island, including Fort Johnson, and the Union fort three miles away. Some of the Civil War cannons are still in place, though the walls are now only one storey high due to bombing during the Civil War. We also saw the original American Flag which was initially flown by the Federal Army, then torn up by the Confederate gunfire in 1861 and replaced by the Rebel flag. We also visited the Charleston Battery, on the harbour, where the Confederates shot at Fort Sumter whilst in Union hands, and later at the nearby Union fort. The Confederate Forts where integral in the blockade-running which enabled the South to survive as long as it did during the war, as they protected to an extent the shipping routes into Charleston.

We also walked along Rainbow Road, where all the biggest and most impressive ante-bellum houses are built - and decided which ones we wanted to live in the most! I have never seen houses anywhere near this big, and with beautiful white pillars and clapboard. One evening, we went to 'Bubba Gump's Shrimp Co.' diner, a Forrest Gump themed diner - apparently based on the Shrimp Company in the film, serving really good seafood on newspaper, and selling Gump-based memorabilia. One of my roomies managed to spend $50 on Forrest Gump orientated clothing. That's dedication. The walls were covered with stills from the film, and the tables had famous quotations written on them. The cocktail menu was on a pingpong bat, and you alerted the waitress's attention by changing your sign to either "Run, Forrest, Run", or "Stop, Forrest, Stop". We returned on Monday morning, after a brief stint in the factory outlet stores for some, and a viewing of The Time Traveller's Wife at the "movie theatre" for me (seriously emotionally draining but amazing for those who care), exhausted, sunburnt and thoroughly sick of each other's hysterical, immature and dramatic company. An amazing weekend. :)

"Football" is NOT rugby.....

Last night I was treated to one of America's most cherished institutions - American football. Or, as the natives insist I have to call it, just "football" (despite the fact everyone knows in that game you actually play with your feet, and certainly don't where shoulder pads and helmets.) It was the first game of our season, and oddly enough screened on ESPN - apparently college football's a big deal here....Due to an outbreak of respiratory infections/potential swine flu in my flat, we decided to stay in and watch The Game on our TV. Unfortunately for the first fifteen minutes or so, it was just me, Rachael and Lucy (a Scot and a Aussie) cheering the Gamecocks on. After a heated debate as to which team was actually ours ("We're garnet right? Isn't that the same as red?" "But the team in white has cocks on their helmets! *Snigger*"), we settled that discussion, only to be totally confused as to what the players where actually doing - apparently just jumping on top of each other, then leaving the pitch. Wikipedia did little to enlighten us as to what was actually happening, but fortunately the Americans arrived soon after to attempt to explain just why they feel it's necessary to have FIFTY TWO players, and what a "turn around" is. Still, I wasn't that enlightened, but then we ordered cookies online to be delivered (yes, you can do that here....) so I was happy. It turned out to be really quite exciting, once I'd worked out it was nearly like rugby and learnt just to cheer when everyone else did. We won, which is always nice, and apparently quite rare.

Continuing in the vein of american sport, my rooomie Anna decided it would be a good idea for us girls to form an all-girls Flag Football team to play in the USC league. This seemed a great idea at the time - good exercise, a laugh, excuse to make t shirts saying "Global Cocks" on - but after we had registered, we actually began to think about the logistics. Unfortunately, the Aussies had thought "football" meant "rugby" (that's what they call it in Austraila.... why? why??) so had willingly signed up. Us Brits just went with the flow, not really acknowledging the fact that we have quite literally no idea what the rules, aim of the game, or terms of American football is. So now USC has an international team for Flag Football who may actually be the worst American football players they have ever seen... as most likely, we will just play rugby. Could be amusing, anyway... as long as none of our limbs get broken by some die-hard female football players. Gah. I've also joined the "Feminist Majority Leadership Alliance" on the advice of my Woman's Studies professor, which looks so much fun - the first meeting consisted of eating Oreos and deciding what design we want on our Soc t shirts. But we also do fundraising for Columbia's Women's Shelter, including a "tongue in cheek" bake sale (feminists....baking....yeah?) where each customer is charged depending on their earning capacity i.e. white males pay the most, and black women the least. They also organise counter-protests at Pro Life marches, have feminist film festivals and run free women's self-defence classes. After watching "Marley and Me", Anna and I also intend to volunteer at the puppy sanctuary - where you basically get to sit around cuddling all the adorable puppies. The plan is to steal one and make it our room pet, though seeing as we've already had one pet death (Jordan's Bader fighting fish, Napoleon), maybe not.

"Fall" is apparently on it's way, as the humidity has pretty much disappeared, which is such a relief, mainly to my hair. It's still bright blue sky every day though, and warm enough to wear shorts and flipflops, so if this is autumn I'm not complaining! We've already had some scary storms though, which are apparently just normal here - sheet lightening, monsoon rain and deafening thunder. Memorably, Jordan told Rachael and I "I don't think this one will turn into a tornado", just as we drove into the storm on our way to a restaurant. Thanks.

I'm experiencing my first road trip this weekend, to Charleston, as it's Labor (sic.) Day - no one actually knows what it's celebrating, but it's a day off classes so all good. Although all the girls I'm going with insist they're spending the whole weekend on the beach and shopping, I am nourishing my inner geek with trips to old plantations and museums , even if I do the ultimate loser thing and go on my own!

Welcome to America!

Welcome to my blog! I'm finally here in America, and have finally set up a blog in an attempt to track my progress across the pond. I'm only two weeks in, and am already sick of telling approximately three million different people the same information, so y'all can just read it on here instead :)

Firstly, America is just what I expected - everyone told me NOT to expect it to be like in the films, but it actually is. I feel weirdly at home here, mainly because I feel like I've seen everything before, but only on the big screen. The roads are ridiculously wide, to match the cars that are ridiculously big - both my American room mates drive massive SUVs as if it's the most normal thing in the world, which I suppose to them it is. The absence of round-abouts is odd, as is the

**(Above is me in front of my Halls!)**

fact that you don't have to have a licence plate on the front of your car in South Carolina!You pretty much can't do ANYTHING without a car - I haven't seen one bus or sign for a train station, and even getting a "quart" of milk results in a twenty minute drive to Walmart. The food is also ridiculously stereotypical - especially here down South. I've experienced burritos, pancakes, tacos, sweet tea (which actually nearly beats English tea) and the craziest "ice cream" called Dippy Dots, which are like Millions, as in the sweets, but instead of being chewy inside, are filled with ice cream. I didn't know whether to be impressed or alarmed when I was told they were originally made using a freeze drier designed for creating cow feed....the food in general is insanely unhealthy. Walmart doesn't seem to believe in anything natural...even the sliced apples come with a pourable caramel sauce. At the moment I'm surviving on Special K and pasta in an attempt to avoid the American trend of obesity!The photo on the left are coloured nachos....

I took advantage of America's economic depression last week in a trip to the "mall", and managed to buy lots of American labels for about a third of the price I would have paid in England - Abercrombie & Fitch hotpants for $30 and Haviana flip flops for $13! Despite my friends' jibes that I would be teetotal for a year, luckily we've managed to get our hands on plenty of alcohol out here. My friends from Australia are both over 21, and house parties are a big deal here. My first experience of a Frat party was intimidating - never have I experienced so much testosterone in a room! It was packed out with very muscular frat boys with their caps on backward, playing beer pong, watching American football on TV and chatting up every girl in sight. I thought I'd actually stepped into 'Mean Girls'.... Whilst not at class, we've been spending nearly every waking second at the pool, sunbathing and swimming. The gym is also incredible; a entire floor each of weights and cardio, a massive climbing wall, an inside running track and about five squash courts - although the fact you have to scan your fingerprints to enter makes me a little scared of what the American government can pin on me now!

Unfortunately, though, I actually have to do some studying....Classes started nearly two weeks ago, and they're very different from English university classes. Firstly, you don't have seminars and lectures, you just have "class", which is a group numbering anywhere between 15 and 100 people, in which the lecturer talks, and student occasionally contribute. Classes are compulsory, and attendance is taken - failure to turn up means your grade is reduced, meaning that skipping Civil War lectures at 9am on a Monday morning is just not possible like it is back home, damn it! The tutors are far more into teaching than those at Warwick, whom I think are really there just to research. This means that they explain things better, but at the same time they appear less intelligent and dynamic.... and are more prone to setting tests three times a semester as they can actually be bothered to mark them! ALL text books have to be bought - no one ever thinks of using the library, and you are only expected to read about two or three whole books for each class over the semester, compared to at Warwick, where you would read a couple of chapters from about twenty books. Classes are really interesting, and I'm just about getting used to being taught in an American accent - though whenever I speak the entire class turns around to stare at the girl with the funny voice! I've already been asked (both by tutors and students) whether I can carry a handgun in London, if we still eat steak and kidney pie, and queried as to if London is near England. I got off lightly; an Irish boy was told he spoke English very well!

Although in theory we speak the same language, I spend half my time asking people what they mean... Americans use so many different words to us, and the ones they use that are the same they pronounce wrongly! "Lolly gagging" is dawdling, "flannel" is a man's shirt, not a washcloth, a "jumper" is a Babygro, a "tramp" is a slut, a trolley is a "buggie", a "sham" is a pillowcase....duvet is pronounced "doo-VAY", pecan is said "pee-KAAN" and they don't say "bugger"!