All little girls should be told they are pretty, even if they aren't

Day 08 - That Time I Made A Great First Impression

Today was the first day of lectures but, in Groningen, the whole city shuts down on a Sunday (even all the big supermarkets, the restaurants and cafes etc.) and they don't tend to reopen until midday/early afternoon on the Monday so lectures on a Monday don't start until 11.

I think I should have been born Dutch.

I went to the first class which was Anthropology of Law. The professor was quite a young guy who was one of those teachers that likes to sit cross-legged on a table at the front of the class and have Deep and Meaningfuls with his classes. It looks like a really interesting class and I think he will draw out some interesting debates even though for the first session we just introduced ourselves and then he let us leave an hour early.

Because, you know, we only have 6 weeks to get this whole course in with just one two-hour lecture a week.

My second class was European Private Law.

I fear I may have made a grandiose error in picking this subject without reading the summary of what the course involves.

I appear to be learning about how Roman people invaded Germany and how that changed the way they transferred property.

I hated Property Law in my first year at University, especially transfer with deeds and titles, and now I've elected to take this module. That serves me right for picking subjects based on the days off I would have.

Lesson learnt.

When we got home we ended up cooking a vegetable curry and watching an hour of Bridget Jones' Diary on the TV. So glad we have a couple of English channels! The curry was actually really nice despite the fact that it was cooked in the kitchen that time (and cleaning supplies) forgot. It's really quite foul in there and none of the other students appear to clean up after themselves.

Plus, someone has stolen my cupboard. Boo.

Eventually my friend and I went to get ready for the 'Dutch' party organised by the University where everyone had to wear orange. After doing some tequila in her room we wandered off to get the bus because, alas, we still don't have lights on our bikes and it's a 60 euro fine if you get caught. And, you know what? I could probably buy another bike for that (a better one than my beloved Hoj I'm sure) so I'm not going to risk being stopped by the police.

We got on the bus and the driver informed us that we'd have to change buses at the Station Noord which we were fine with. We went to get on another bus and asked the driver if he was going to Grote Markt and he said he was so we sat down. But then, when we pulled away, we realised the bus wasn't facing the right way and we appeared to be driving out of the city. We looked at each other and were suddenly not quite so sure where we were headed. Thankfully, the bus went back on itself and we headed back into town but my friend still pressed the stop button too early. So the bus driver stopped and just waited.

And waited some more.

Until, eventually, I had to totter to the front of the bus and explain what had happened. To which he laughed and said he had seen the whole thing in his mirror and was waiting to see what we were going to do.

Bastard.

We made it to the orange party but it was so packed in &Zo that we ended up having to go outside every half hour or so because of the heat. I met my next door neighbour which was so surreal! He and a mate came to talk to Orty and I and he asked where we lived and then, when it turned out that was his building too, he asked what room and I realised he was in the one next to me. Score one for Amy with the nice Spanish bloke living next door.

We moved on to Rumba and decided to have a dance but we made an executive decision to go home when my friend had been grabbed for the umpteenth time that night and she'd had enough. She also had lectures at 9 and it was approaching 3 am so we called it a night and got a taxi.

Wherein the taxi driver informed me of this notion that all English girls are ugly. It had been mentioned to me twice before (in a roundabout way) but I had no idea about this assumption.

Is this what all foreigners think? That English women are the ugly bints of the globe? Is this a common stereotype for people outside of Britain? And where did this come from if it is?

I feel like I should defend my country and state, here and now, that I know plenty of absolutely stunning English women so back off world. Nyeah.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to pretend that I haven't spent the whole morning in my pyjamas with my hair like a bird's nest and act like I'm very busy with important University work.

&&Fin