Education.

Today, my satchel and I went to our first classes. I set off at 10.25, giving myself plenty of time to grab some food and find the building for my 11am class. Turns out the class was actually at 11.30. Silly Hannah. With an extra half an hour on my hands, I found myself, Starbucks in hand, sat under a tree in the Quad. Yes. The Quad. I felt thoroughly North American.
Class no. 1 was Shakespearean Drama. I think I'm going to like this class. The prof seems lovely, although he basically worships Shakespeare, which, as anyone who took the first-year Shakespeare module in Exeter will know, is a rather different attitude from the skepticism with which we were advised to view Shakespeare. Nonetheless, he's clearly very passionate, and I love Shakespeare, and it'll be nice to view the great bard from a different perspective.
I promptly ambled my way across campus for History of Ethics, which was simply a brief introduction to the course and then we were let out after half an hour. Unexpected hour-long breaks are wonderful things. Anyways, that class looks set to be really interesting, and I finally get to study some philosophy, so I'm happy. :)
Final class of the day was British Literatures II. For someone on an exchange in Canada, I still seem to be doing an awful lot of British classes. Oh well. Stick to what you know and all that. Another class that I think I'll enjoy. Not quite as enthused by it as Shakespeare, but we'll see. We're covering a lot of texts, so it'll be a lot of reading but also a lot of breadth and variety, which I like. :)
Tomorrow brings Aboriginal Literature at 8.30am (kill me now) and a three-hour class on James Joyce deceptively named "20th Century Fiction". The jury's still out on whether or not I'm going to stick with that one, but we shall see.
Before that, however, I have a choir audition, for which I have no music, so I'm going to sing them the Welsh national anthem, because I'm awesome. Then later tonight I'm going to watch a basketball game. Don't laugh. I'm actually going to go, and attempt to enjoy it. Somewhere, deep down inside of me, there is a sports fan waiting to emerge. I'm sure of it. Kind of. Ish. Not really. We'll see. I can but try.

Guess which society I joined...

One of these days I'll remember what my degree is actually in, but for now the music geek in me will continue to reign.
Today we had academic orientation. We weren't sure if we actually had to go because we're not freshman, but we thought we'd go anyway, if only for the free tshirt. It turned out to be a couple of hours of waiting around as they piled 4000 students into one room for convocation: a weird event involving bagpipes, the national anthem, a very anecdote-happy guest speaker and pledging to be good students and not let ourselves die. It was strange. We planned to hang around for the free food, but the prospect of standing in a massive queue for the sake of a burger was a bit much. Instead we went to Chicken Chicken, which is next to Pizza Pizza. They really go for ingenious company names here.
I spent the afternoon lounging around eating Malteasers and watching Chalet Girl. Ed Westwick makes me happy, although in my head I think I spent the entire film thinking of him as Chuck Bass. <3
Later came the Expo (freshers fair/squash) where I considered joining the Quidditch team, before realising that no amount of Harry Potter references could make me run around a field on a broomstick chasing someone in a yellow tshirt. Although it does slight worry me that it's the actual running around and not the general ridiculousness of it that's putting me off.
We then established that Carleton really doesn't have talent. Really.
The big event of the day was a talk from MTV's The Buried Life. For those of you who don't know (I certainly didn't) they're basically four guys who travel around trying to complete their bucket list, and trying to help other people do things on their own bucket lists. They've done some pretty cool stuff, like sneaking into the Playboy mansion, riding a bull, playing basketball with President Obama, as well as helping people reconnect with long lost children etc. It sounds amazing, and not at all like anything you'd ever associate with MTV. They spent the time talking about what they'd done and encouraging people to do what they want to do and to make dreams a reality. I'll be sure to take them up on that advice once I've figured out what my dreams are. Anyways, listening to these guys talk and hearing students share the things on their bucket lists was really interesting and gave me a lot of respect for Canadian people. In true British fashion, I've been pretty cynical so far with regards to the passion and enthusiasm that these people have, but I actually think that it's lovely that these people are so happy and open. Yes, the screaming and cheering can be a little a lot terrifying and I find myself missing the reserved and repressed ways of the Brits, but the spirit and pride that these students have for their school, their country and just the fact that they're alive is something to be admired. Having said that, an entire song about how much they hate the University of Ottawa (culminating in a chorus of "Fuck you Ottawa U) is a bit much.
Classes start tomorrow, which means I should probably get some sleep, since tomorrow alone I have almost as many hours of classes as I did in an entire week in Exeter, and I'm not sure how well reacquainting myself with education is going to go.
And yes, that is a Carleton University bandana in my hair. Go Ravens!

Today was good day.

I slept, watched Doctor Who & Outnumbered, properly unpacked so my clothes are no longer sprawled all over the floor (that won't last long), ate a Beaver Tail (first of many, I predict) and watched a pretty light show on Parliament building. Today did not involve pep. Hannah is content. :)

Curled up in bed with this man...

Hurrah for iPlayer, VPNs, duvets and chocolate! The only thing that could make this better would be a cup of tea, but since I have neither a kettle nor any tea bags, that could be problematic. Never mind. Matt Smith is more than enough to keep me content. :)

In other news...

I said "parking lot" earlier. I nearly disowned myself. Bad times.

Pep rallies are terrifying.

I am tired. Very tired. Travelling yesterday was interesting. After they boarded us over an hour after the flight was scheduled to leave, we then sat on the plane for an hour before being told to get off. Then they gave us free food vouchers (win!), so we knew we'd be there a while. It was lovely though, because I made some friends, and during the flight the four of us found an empty row at the front of the plane and proceeded to talk and giggle and flash lights hilariously and obnoxiously, and I could think of no better way to pass the time. :) We finally boarded for departure over 5 hours later than scheduled, and set of on the 9-hour flight.  On the plane I watched Glee. As the name suggests, it made me happy. A later connecting flight meant that I arrived at Carleton at about 12.15am. After an hour of wandering back and forth between Prescott House and Res Commons, I finally actually got into my room and promptly slept badly due to a lack of bedding and warmth. It was stressful.
Today was better. Today I saw Canadians being Canadian and crazy people helping people move in. And I saw a chipmunk. It made me happy. I went to Walmart, which was less exciting than aniticipated because it was busy and confusing. Apparently women's spray deodorant doesn't exist here. Who knew? I did, however, buy comfort chocolate to ease my tired soul, which was gratefully received by my stomach. Speaking of which, the food hall is AMAZING. There's just food everywhere, of all different varieties, and you can eat as much as you want. I had bacon and maple syrup. I felt thoroughly Canadian. Soon, I shall turn into a moose. A very fat moose.
This evening, we went to a pep rally. There were (not very good) cheerleaders and chanting and stunt men/acrobats and cheering and massive beach balls and a crazy woman screaming nonsensically on a stage and a video of Rodney the Raven pissing on the University of Ottawa. It was an interesting and sweaty experience. We tried to be enthusiastic, but we reserved Brits just don't have the spirit of these high-on-life Canadians. In true British fashion, we proceeded to the pub, only to find that it was shut for Orientation. This was not well received, but we were all too tired and jet-lagged to care.
So now you're all caught up, I'm going to go and be unconscious for a while, because 10.30pm is just about justifiable, in spite of the fact that I've been tired for hours. Tonight I get to sleep with an actual sheet, pillow and quilt, rather than a towel, a folded hoodie and a not-quite-big-enough blanket. Yay. :)

Packing.

Over the past 12 months, packing has become the bane of my very existence. This time last year came the great university adventure, which involved packing suitcases and boxes with my mountains of stuff and transporting it 99 miles south. As any student will know, unpacking your life into a box room and a tiny kitchen cupboard is no easy task. Pots, pans, baking equipment, clothes, shoes, a keyboard, a violin, a bassoon, a printer and all sorts besides were somehow found a home, much to the distress of my dear mother, who was handing me plastic storage boxes left, right and centre.
Then, over the course of the year, came the trips home, where one weekend in Wales would require hauling a massive pink suitcase onto the train in order to accommodate the number of clothes that needed washing. And let's not even mention moving home, when I made perhaps my biggest packing faux pas. The plan was simple: Dad would take most of my stuff home in the car, leaving behind only what I needed for the next two weeks, which I would then bring home on the train. Simple enough, except when you forget to send your large hardback dictionary home in the car, and you end up dragging a suitcase, two holdalls, a rucksask and a handbag around a crowded train, while strangers comment on the poor girl who was "carrying her whole life around".
And then came the summer, during which I have essentially lived out of a suitcase, not really bothering to unpack and repack during the sporadic days at home between adventures and holidays. Now, once again, I have to pack. This time for Canada.
Now, I know that I should be grateful that I get to travel and go to university in another country and all sorts of excitement and that I shouldn't complain, but I really don't like packing. Some people are good at packing, and organised with packing. When my dad's colleague went on holiday, he was packed a good week in advance; a man from church is known to do a practice pack a week or so before he actually has to pack; one friend of my sister, when packing for two consecutive trips, even drew up spreadsheets. That's far too organised for my liking. I much prefer to just wander around and pick things up and decide whether or not it's going. There's one slight problem with this method: it has turned me into a notorious overpacker, for, I reckon, these reasons.

1. I'm indecisive. Really indecisive.
2. I like my clothes. Now, don't get me wrong; I'm no fashion icon, but I do like the clothes I have, and I have a lot of them. I'm not the kind of person who just buys clothes because they're cheap or in fashion or whatever. Everything I buy, I really like, which makes choosing all the more difficult.
3. I'm the queen of "it might come in handy one day". I look at everything and imagine its potential purpose, however unlikely. Not long ago, I justified keeping a top that I haven't worn in years because it might come in handy if I ever have to dress up as a zebra. Yeah.

And as a serial overpacker, the likelihood of me fitting a year's worth of stuff into one 23kg suitcase is very slim, so it looks like I'll be paying the extra $50 for another case. Bye bye money.
So, in less than 24 hours I am leaving for Gatwick, and this is my progress so far:

Now, while my boots and free Exeter University hoody will come in handy, I might need a bit more, so I should probably stop rambling in this blog about packing and actually pack (I'm also very good at procrastinating, which will become apparent over the course of the year). So I suppose I should probably get to the big questions such as "where's my toothbrush, is there room for the Welsh flag, where's the donkey going to go and is my giraffe costume really necessary?"