Grand Tour 2017 Begins

Looking back I don't see any entries from my wonderful experience doing the Grand Tour two years ago.  Not exactly clear why I feel motivated to re-start the blog this year, but here goes.

I'm ensconced in a micro-"studio" up on the top floor of the International Hall residence-annex at  University College, London, having EuroStar'd under the Channel from Brussels, where I'd gotten over my jet lag with my brother Julius.  Though the time is nearly 10PM the sky is still light--no matter how many times I experience this strange phenomenon of far-Northern life, it still takes me by surprise. There's an ever-present hum emanating from my tiny bathroom, because the exhaust fan is on constantly--supposedly to guard against condensation--and I have already done some prospecting with my Swiss Army knife phillips-head for ways to disable it temporarily, as even with the door closed it is almost as loud as the jets passing in the distance.

I put "studio" in quotation marks because there is a galley-style kitchen along one wall, but there is no cutlery, no nothing anywhere, and the tiny fridge was off when I got here.  If the heatwave of last week had not broken, I probably would be slitting my wrists right now, because I'm sure the place was a sauna; the weather is cool now and for the foreseeable future, but if it warms up I'll probably ditch the fridge because of the heat it throws out.  Compounding the problem of southern exposure is the lack of air circulation: in the wake of the Grenfell Towers inferno, propping doors open is frowned upon, but according to a longer-term resident, the powers downstairs (like Norby the Hungarian chap who remembered me from two years back) have relented rather than face a revolution...  I've placed the (single) bed against the wall instead of where it was, dominating the entire room, so now at least there is a feeling of more space (e.g. for stretching or push-ups), and I suppose it's my way of making the place more "mine."

My students arrive on Saturday afternoon, and I have some logistical details to work out before then, even as I have already arranged most things (or verified that my Davis program coordinator arranged them).  It's a big group--29, plus an onsite coordinator--and I have only the slightest clue what sort of group it will turn out to be: I have met about half of them at info sessions and at the pre-departure orientation in May, but as I know from skinned-knuckle experiences, there is no foretelling whether there will be psychos or troublemakers or drama addicts who will spoil the entire experience.  One of my chores is to make some notes for my on-site orientation, in hopes of instilling a sense of cameraderie or discouraging the toxic back-channel talking that ruined several of my SA teaching experiences in the past.

That right there is a source of anxiety, as this year with all the stuff that has been happening back home, I feel as if I have less of a good-energy reserve to tap into, compared to past years where things were more stable on the homefront.  Some of these things were family related, some were just screw-ups and hoop-jumpings that emerged in the run-up to my departure.  If stress is like allergies, I had had a whole series of insults, and the threshold for resistance to future ones is thereby diminished.

That said, I enjoyed my leisurely mosey down from St Pancras International, where the Eurostar dumps you, not quite remembering the right combination of streets but not really caring, as I had no schedule and the weather was neither oppressively hot nor uncomfortably cold.  After dropping my stuff (and verifying that the exhaust fan was indeed supposed to run constantly, and was not defective) I elected to walk unencumbered over to the British Museum just because I could--no entrance fee, only a cursory weapons check to get in an hour and a half before closing.  Might as well practice what I preach to my students--that getting a little lost is fine, and that going into a museum and watching people / aimlessly wandering around is a great way to pass some time, an insightful alternative to the ultra-determined blasts through museums that so many tourists indulge...