Meg

I don’t care that my body thinks that it is 4am. I don’t care that I’ve been awake and travelling for 23 hours. I don’t care that I have lived through 8pm twice tonight. I don’t care that for my tea I had a cereal bar and a bag of low fat pretzels. I don’t even care that every single person I have spoken to has said, ‘Why on earth are you going to Iowa?’ I don’t care because I am in Love. I love that the lady I sat next to on the plane and have only known 7 hours has invited me to her family’s Christmas celebrations on the beach in Florida. I love that when I walked into the Eastern Iowa Airport’s baggage claim and arrivals lounge I automatically knew that every person in the room was an Iowan. I love that the shuttle bus I was picked up in to take me from the airport to the hotel was a white, miniature version of a the stereotypical, yellow American School Bus – complete with ‘awesome’ lever that the driver uses to open the door without leaving his seat. I also love that my shuttle bus appears to be free. I love that the petrol stations have retro gas pumps. I love that everywhere I look I spot a brand or a structure or a sign that I have seen on TV or in movies. It’s like being on a ginormous film set. I love that when I enquired at my hotel about where to go for breakfast I was directed to the International House of Pancakes. I love that there are tall thin chimneys dotted around with red lights running up them that makes me feel as though I have found a little bit of Eggborough Power Station, the symbol of home, in Coralville, Iowa. I love that tomorrow I get to start my new life in the Hawkeye State. Some might call this culture shock, but I prefer, putting it simply, to call it Love.

Until today, all my observations have been recorded in one of two forms. Firstly, as amusing, anecdotal Facebook statuses, or secondly, hand written inside my holiday diaries. I should point out that the reason for this blog is because I am leaving my cosy, familiar Yorkshire village, with my reliable and trustworthy pensioner neighbours, and I am getting on a plane, alone, to America. I’m swapping village life, where we don’t have access to fibre optics yet and our amenities total one pub, a post office and an Italian restaurant (for some unknown reason), for the biggest superpower on Earth. The photo below is the main street in my village. As you can see, it’s not exactly bustling with people.

As such, I thought it was about time my inner most thoughts jumped on the bandwagon and became available for public consumption. I’m rejecting my pen for the keyboard and chronicling my time abroad online, partly so I have a record of everything that is going to happen this next year, partly so that prospective and current students (like yourself) can see University life through my eyes, but I’m mostly doing it so that my Mum knows what I’m up to, (Hi Mum! x) My specific destination is the University of Iowa in Iowa City, Iowa, which is where I will be spending my third year of University before I return to the University of Hull for a final year before collecting my degree in American Studies.

I suppose I am anxious, but I am also excited and thoroughly ready for my American Dream to begin. However, before I begin pouring all my thoughts on Football, sidewalks, the correct pronunciation of aluminium and the novelty of two pronged plugs into the abyss that is the internet, I need to get on a plane first.

Look for posts from Meg soon.