Weekend in Woking
As part of Arcadia’s study abroad program, we spent this past weekend in Woking, a biggish town in Surrey, just a little bit outside of London (translation: a 2 1/2 hour drive through barely moving traffic). I lived in a house with two parents (Mark and Karen) their two 13- and 15-year-old daughters, two Polish boarders, a Doberman named Ruben, 3 birds, and Matt, another American from our program. Over the three days we visited Windsor Castle, went to a driving range, hung out at the local pub, saw a film at the local cinema, watched some football and cricket on TV, and ate plenty of British food. Some observations:
There is no concept of political correctness in England. Our host mom’s friend slash our co-host for much of the time, Patricia, told a story about how her boarder from Botswana’s friend was “so black” and an American staying with her was shocked. She then asked, “well what do you call them? We had to stop calling them coloured a few years back.” She also made numerous comments about how small Chinese people are and about her “unskilled Polish labourers” when we had barely even met her. England is definitely a different country, but I like it a lot. The laid back attitude to political correctness is refreshing.
English food is alternately delicious and disgusting. The first night we had a home-cooked stew made from chicken legs (bone and all), potatoes, peas, and carrots. The first morning we had egg-on-toast for breakfast, an English favorite, which consists of a fried egg on top of a slice of toast liberally coated with butter. This brings up a crucial point. Liberally coating something with butter is entirely different in England. A friend got a free pastry at a caffe one of the first days we arrived, and what we thought was a coating of cream cheese turned out to be butter. They use lots. Regardless, the egg-on-toast was a good start to the day. The next day for breakfast, we had a similar dish of bacon and egg sandwiches with brown sauce. The other two dinners were also home-cooked, but were from some of England’s favourite ethnic fare, a chicken curry one night and spaghetti bolognese the next. All the home-cooked meals in Woking were wonderful, but I don’t understand how all English country folk don’t weigh 500 pounds.
Patricia left us in Woking for 4 hours to go pubbing Friday night, warning us we better be drunk when she picked us up at 1 am. There is nothing quite like hanging out in a crowded pub while a local English bar band plays covers of the Fratellis, Oasis, Blur, and Kaiser Chiefs. So cool.
Windsor is incredible. There is room after room of cool pretty old stuff, but Henry VIII’s pot-bellied armour was probably the most amusing thing there. Had a mid-afternoon pint at a pub that had been in operation since 1518, complete with a dungeon-looking area in the basement.
Got a chocolate bar called a “Penguin” from my host-mom. It’s slogan is “p…p…p…pick up a penguin.”
Football matches are fun to watch, but watching a full cricket match would be awful. I understand the rules now after Mark’s explanation, but the games never end.
Final Destination 3D is a terrible but hilarious film. Not worth the 11 pounds it cost to get into the cinema, despite the cool 3D and worthless acting. As expensive as films are in the USA, it’s much worse most places here.
That’s about all I have for now on the homestay. Really the best part was just talking to English folk, talking to Patricia’s Dutch/Botswanan kid Alex, and trying to soak up what life’s like outside London. Currently I’m in the midst of Fresher’s Week (New Student Week England style) and will post about those happenings soon.
