Uh-Oh

My time in England began and ended in the same way - with uncertainty about how the weather would affect my travels. The night before I left for Norwich it began to snow at my brother's. Nothing too significant, but this was in outer London, so who knew what it would do when I started to head east and out of the city. I arose on the morning of my departure to see a lovely white layer out the window. National Express reckoned the way was clear, and so I set off. Battling through the Tube at the end of peak hour with an enormous backpack plus extra bits was certainly an experience, and one I couldn't have survived without big brother there to pretend half of it was his. But we made it to Victoria Coach Station, and parted ways as I hopped on my coach and set off for the east country.

I knew only a little about Norwich. The interwebs had told me little bits and pieces, I'd driven around it on google earth, and the uni had sent me lots of info about things they thought relevant. But who really knows anything about a city until they arrived? I knew Norfolk had a similar reputation to Tasmania, even sharing some incest jokes, and that it was fairly flat, and had history. I'd chosen the University of East Anglia because I had very little choice - UK exchanges were offered between my uni and UEA, Warwick and Hull. Now, Hull, that was never an option. Warwick looked alright, but in the end I decided UEA looked the nicest on google earth. And so that decision was made on completely superficial grounds. Never regretted it either.

The coach trundled along, completely overheated, and for 5 hours I sat and stared out the window at a motorway, another one, some fields, a few little villages and then, I was there. I stepped out of the coach, utterly directionless. Arriving in January meant I missed all the usual welcome that happened at the beginning of the autumn semester, and had to find my own way to the uni without nice welcome umbrellas and signs at the various points.

I considered getting a taxi to the uni, but all the taxis outside the coach station looked really old, battered and slightly scary (I soon worked out they all looked this way), so I tried to find the bus stop. The first person I talked to had the strongest Narfolk accent I encountered in my entire time, but I eventually worked out where to go

Hopped on a bus, hoped I'd know when to get off, and we set off through slushy streets. To this day I still don't know if it was route 25 or a 35. Noticed a few others laden to the eyebrows with suitcases, and we all quickly established that we were all in the same situation. Another kind soul took pity and told us "I'm going to the uni, I'll show you where to go."

And then I was there. The exchange group that semester was small (compared to the next semester), and mostly female. We had cups of tea and biscuits, warmed up, then were taken to our accommodation. This was when I first met the completely discombobulating maze of streets around UEA. Of course now I know which way were were driven with our luggage, but for those first few days I wandered around quite disorientated.

When I got to my flat I was met by someone with the room opposite the front door who took me around to meet whoever else happened to be in. I quickly forgot all their names. I'd nominated the middle of the range accommodation as my first choice, largely for the prime location on campus, looking over the lake. And quickly I realised that despite my anticipation about sharing with raucous 19 year olds, sharing facilities with up to 13 other people, God had provided, and the flat was perfect.

And so I arrived at UEA. Without delay. Without nervousness. Without travel sickness even. I was welcomed warmly and at no moment regretted my decision.



Coming soon, day two, awakening to snow. Watch this space.