Cremation stories in Birmingham and other adventures of the last week or so…

Thursday, I wrote the qualifying test that allows me to continue into the second year of my degree.

I spent Friday studying a bit for a presentation I have in a couple of weeks [that is 10% of my final IR mark], and then went to Birmingham to catch up with Natalia, a great friend from France that I met while on a German lit. course a few years ago. Birmingham was great – I very much liked the city, and I couldn’t help but notice how Marxist and industrialist the architecture was – long, factory chimneys everywhere [even as a highlight of the University of Birmingham], terra cotta red bricks, very geometric, symmetrical buildings adorned with sickles, hammers, miners, hardworking members of the proletariat, etc. You get the point. So different from Oxford!

As Nat and I walked back to the bus station on Saturday afternoon, I realized my left foot was hurting [I just found out that I have a sprained ligament]. It was all a result of Nat’s courageous French quest to find all the cute and edgy restaurants in town. We dined at a place called the Warehouse Cafe [check out their menu online], and had lunch the next day at Handmade Burger Co, which, I just found out, is a chain [see here]. I had the cajun burger, and by the time I finished eating it, I wanted to have another one – it was really good [they claim their meat comes from cows fed grass in natural conditions, without any chemicals, maybe that's why it tasted so good].

At the bus station, a hippy-looking couple, returning from Scotland, where they clearly spent their holiday camping out [they had huge bags, the ones you stuff tents in]. The woman, with a shaved head, , wearing six earrings on each ear and sporting a small, wallet-like purse made of hemp, and showing off her sky blue shorts, asks me if I’ve come from as far as her and her boyfriend. I smile and say “No, I just came from Oxford.” She adds, “I’m from Oxford! Where are you from?” – “North America.” – “I have some music from Indian Americans in my backpack.” – (smile) – “Is she your girlfriend?” – (smile) – “My husband died ten years ago. He was thirty-five years older than me. You know what killed him? Smoking. And funny, he smoked himself to death, and then wanted to be cremated. On the same day, I had barbequed chicken, which might as well be cremated. It was all about smoking up that day! (laughs) – (I don’t know how to react, so I turn to Nat).

She goes on: “But now I’m vegetarian. I don’t eat meat. I don’t even eat his meat (points at her boyfriend…The man blushes). And you?” I turn away once again. As I enter the bus and I settle in my seat, I overhear her story about the cremation again: She’s telling it to the people opposite her seat. Great memory from Birmingham!

I’ve spent the last few days counting the hours before I get my marks. Now I’m indifferent and sort of think I don’t want to know anymore [I really do, but I don’t want to think about it anymore…).

did I mention that I like the fact that cash machine withdrawals in Britain are free? It’s great!

Oh, I also just learned how to say “wha’eva” in English accent…