Flags

American flags are everywhere. I mean really, everywhere. Maybe it's just that the Americans are prouder of their country than the English, but if you put up a St. George's Cross in England, then either it's the football World Cup, or you're a member of the BNP.

I'm lost

I would never have thought that I would do anything quite so pathetic as become addicted to a TV programme, but it has happened, and I've decided there's no longer any point denying it. So here we go:

I am a Lostaholic.

But if being addicted to such a popular drug wasn't bad enough, my dealer, ABC, is quite the cunning one. He'll give out a couple of juicy episodes, at regular weekly intervals, but then hold back with no warning or reason, not even a major sporting event. I'm not sure I can cope any more.

Whether the weather...

I have just returned from several days hiking and camping in the Lake District, which whilst being a lot of fun, was incredibly damp, in every possible way. We barely saw a patch of blue sky, and although the torrential rain was confined to the night-time hours, the days were completely overcast, and visibility was very poor on higher ground. Basically, the air was just wet. Full of water. As was the ground. And everything else after a few hours.

Now, I'm not an expert on Chicago weather, but I haven't seen a single day like that since I've been here. In England there are many days when the sky is overcast and there is a permanent drizzle in the air, but that just doesn't seem to happen here. Either there's blue sky, or it's properly raining or snowing. None of this half-hearted inbetweenness.

Boxes

Post box:


Mail box:


I think it's clear which is prettier.

Bacon, bacon, bacon.

This has only come to my attention since returning to the UK, but it is not possible to buy back bacon in the US. The only bacon available is streaky bacon. Nice as this is, it is not ideal, and begs the question: what do they do with the rest of the pig?

You may begin

Exams, exams, exams. You wouldn't think they'd be all that much different across the pond. Maybe it's just Cambridge that's backwards, but to me procedures over here just seem way too informal. Let's look at the differences:

How things work in Cambridge:
1. Students arrive at the exam hall with nothing more than a few pens and pencils in a see-through pencil case.
2. All bags/coats must be left at the back of the hall.
3. Exams are taken anonymously, and you must sit at the desk specified by your candidate number.
4. If you wish to leave the hall to use the bathroom, you must be accompanied by an authorized invigilator.
5. There will be one, or maybe two invigilators, wearing official gowns.
6. The exam ends after the exact length of time stated on the front of the paper, and at that time students must stop writing immediately.

How things work at Northwestern:
1. Students arrive at the exam hall before the examiners get there, laden with books, bags and coats.
2. They keep their books open until the very last minute, when many announcements must be made in order to get them to put them away, which means onto the floor somewhere near their chair.
3. Students sit wherever they want, names are written on the front of the exams. And anyway, instructors already know the students handwriting from the masses of quizzes they've taken throughout the term.
4. Students wander in and out to use the bathroom whenever they want. Questions are asked throughout the exam, many often asking for more details than mere clarification.
5. There can be anything up to 5 or 6 invigilators (proctors) who chat amongst themselves, thoroughly distracting the students.
6. If the invigilators feel like it, they can give the students five more minutes, just to be nice.

Bleak wilderness

O'Hare International Airport is by some measures the second busiest airport in the world. In 2005 it served 76,766,776 passengers. And yet the International terminal is horrifically undercatered for. Before security there is one small cafe and two shops. After security there is nothing. Nothing. Just a desolate desert of emptiness.

Hit the hay?

Apparantley, in Kansas, if one 'hits the hay', it means you're going to bed. Sounds more like a romp in the hay to me...

In England, we hit the sack. Which actually makes no more or less sense to me than the hay, thinking about it.

Thank-you Professor...

My undergraduate calculus students here call me 'Professor', even though I am clearly (I hope) far too young to be anything of the sort. Maybe they're just more polite over here.

One thing never changes though: on neither side of the Atlantic can undergraduates pronounce or spell my surname correctly.

Guinness is good for you

In celebration of St. Patrick in Chicago, they dye the river green:


And their hair. And their beer. Then they all dress up in green and have a parade which seems much more political than a parade has any right to be. All the pubs are packed to the brim, and some have very small men dressed as leprechauns dancing around on the bar. However exciting this may be, it seems to me to be a little excessive. Recent census data shows that only 6.6% of Chicago residents actually claim to be Irish.

What is it exactly about Irishness that appeals to Americans? I'd like to know what the real Irish (that is, those in Ireland) do on St. Paddy's Day. Do they dye their rivers/hair/beer green?

In Cambridge, we were happy enough with a few pints of Guinness from the lovely Guinness girls and the chance to win a free fleece jacket.

Yield, damn you!

I had been planning on writing this morning about the informalities of the US university examination system, but having been almost run over (again) on my walk in to the office I have decided instead to moan about American drivers.

There is a road I have to cross every morning, into which many drivers take a right-hand turn. There is a very clear sign which states that "right-hand turns must yield to pedestrians". This morning, one woman, in her giant 4x4 (which I very much doubt has ever been anything like off-road), did no such thing. I even 'alerted her to my presence' by a wave of my arm, but the bitch didn't even slow down.

It almost makes me want to let her hit me so she loses her license for completely ignoring the rules of the road.

Txt Msgs

Text messages: in England everyone sees them as a great thing. U can evn abbrevi8 thm 2 lk cl 4 ur m8s.

But Americans just don't send them. And do you know why? Because it costs money to receive them. A whole dime (that's 10 cents for the uninitiated) to some people. Which is clearly absurd. The US phone system doesn't distinguish between landlines and mobiles, so it makes a kind-of sense that on a mobile phone you have to pay to receive calls, because the person making the call won't be paying any extra. But to pay to receive a text? Someone has already paid to send it... what is going on?

The benefit of this to me is that prepaid phonecards don't distinguish between landlines and mobiles in England, and I can call a British mobile for 4c a minute. Which is less than if I was just down the road.

Lunch

American academics go for lunch a lot earlier than their British counterparts. In Cambridge, we used to go for lunch on Fridays and I was always ravenous by 1pm and still trying to get everyone together to leave the building. Now, is just past midday, and my boss has declared she is hungry and we should leave immediately. I like this way much better.