Dear Journalist . . . Know Your Laws

There is no written rule that says you can’t come to the Britain and work as a journalist but there is a rule, at least at the University of London that says if you’re going to study to be a journalist as a graduate student you must pass their media law exam. Let’s get to the shock value of such a course…. in the fall semester you meet every week for 2 hours and listen to the instructor compare U.K. media laws to U.S. media laws (and let me just tell you now, our laws are SOOOOO much better!). You are asked to keep up with the three textbooks reading the instructor has given you just for this one semester. I’m not going to lie… by week 5 my brain was fried and by the end of the semester I was lucky if my brain wasn’t oozing out of my ears. Anyways, back to the shock value. You read, you have a hard time understanding the british laws because some of them are very stone age. For example they only started allowing request for open records in the beginning of the 21st century, and after your weeks of constant studying for this course and others you have holiday. You get to go home for Christmas and New Years and spend time not thinking about media law. Well not so fast. You still have a pocketbook you have to read and keep up your knowledge as best as possible. Then you return to university refreshed, ready to take on the media law world and then you’re right back in the same lecture hall, with the same instructor, and now you have five weeks to memorize nearly 200 pages of laws and counter laws as well as your rights before exam time. And it’s not just any exam. Weeks before you actually test you receive an official document in the mail specifying exactly what items you are to bring with you, where these items are to go on your desk while in the exam room, what type of pens you are allowed to have and the list goes on and on. It feels as if you’re getting ready to take the bar for the first time. If you fail this “test” you mine as well set up shop on the university grounds for the next year as you will be spending yet another fall semester at the school while everyone else is done and preparing for graduation and you wait for an official test date to re-take your exam.

Let me tell you now, the worst part about taking this exam is the date they decide to give it which is right smack in the middle of your one week off from school in the middle of the semester. It’s called “reading week” but it’s more like spring break. While all your friends are out enjoying themselves in Brighton (the beach) or Paris you are in the same spot reading and attempting to memorize laws that you think a lawyer should be paid to know. Then the day of the exam comes and you think to yourself ‘I can’t possibly remember ANY of this!! I’m doomed.’ Your nerves get the best of you while you pray to just survive the three hours of long sentence writing you’re about to do.

The exam is exhausting while the only thing you obsess about afterwards is that one (or two, or three) question you got wrong or didn’t answer completely. It took me 3 days to feel the weight lifted off my shoulders while I can’t help but wait impatiently for my grade to be returned to me. If there is one thing this exam has taught me, it’s i’ll take U.S. 1st Amendment laws to journalist any time, any day.

Amsterdam... Welcome to The Show

Amsterdam… its Europe’s version of Vegas. There’s no sugar coating it and nothing is surprising. “Coffee shops” are on every corner. Of course you can get a cup of java in these locations but you can also enjoy some good vibrations while watching other tourists wondering down alley ways and stone streets.

I had the pleasure of spending a few days in this part of Europe. Upon arriving at our hotel after a day of traveling a schoolmate and myself had just enough time to attempt at making ourselves up and run to the closest train station, as we had reservations at one of the cities most known hidden clubs. Luckily our hotel was just down the street from a train station and there was no shortage of running while praying we hit the platform before the train doors closed. With success we barely made the train and after being on for a few moments realize the obvious; It was the wrong train. Crap! And to make matters worse, neither of us speaks Dutch and nothing is in English. Have I mentioned yet that our phones were pretty much useless as there was no internet connection and neither of us had the chance yet to buy a Netherlands SIM card? Yep… this trip was going to be a lot of fun ;)

We hopped off the train and caught the next train thinking ‘Ok now we’re good!’ Yeah… not really. After about 10 minutes we checked our GPS that was somehow still operating only to realize we’re on the right number train but going in the wrong direction. FUCK! Really!?!!?!? Ugh. Now, third times a charm! Right train, right direction and we’re 30 minutes late for our reservation. Oops. Well it was bound to happen sometime during the evening.

We made it to the marketplace and start our way to the Red Light District and it hits me, I’m completely under the spell of the city. Even at night photos do not do this centuries old city justice. The building are captivating with the leaning structures and artistic sculptures that tell generations of history. I’m sure Katie was laughing at me walking around the city with my jaw on the ground. Red Light District is literally that… prostitution everywhere you look and I’m just going to say it, some of the girls are drop dead gorgeous. Sorry but just like in the champagne room there are no photos allowed even from the street unless you want to dare getting your butt kicked all the way to Poland. Therefore I have no way of proving this piece of truth.

If you’ve ever been to Amsterdam, you know the alley’s are misleading. You think there’s nothing down the nicely lit back streets but after walking in circles (literally) for another 20 minutes while making jokes that we were looking for a hidden door we finally gave up and asked someone. Little did we know we were right. The door to the club was nicely constructed within the building wall with a TINY little note that says “congratulations you found us! Now ring the bell to get lost in Wonderland.” The moment you stepped into the club itself your world is completely transformed. Anything goes. Rules were an idea for reality and reality didn’t exist here.

From the beds with what looked like short brunch tables on the sides of the club both upstairs and downstairs to the dance floor in the front of the massive room, then the 5 course, 5-star meal you made the reservations to attend your mind is blown. Between each meal is a fantasy/fetish show i.e., five meals and five shows.  It was truly a night to remember and not just thanks to the AMAZING food and show! The entire experience was definitely an Alice in Wonderland experience. After dinner the club ignited with main floor dancing and below grounds bar/dancing.

Once fatigue started to catch up with us, we realized sleep was a must. Leaving the club was like experiencing your 15 minutes of fame within a few moments. People attempting to get in was insane. There had to be at least 75-100 people surrounding the entrance with security holding as many of them back as possible and you… well you had to attempted to get out the door and passed the Amsterdam hungry Friday night party goers. One thing that I’m not a fan of is the lack of public transportation on a weekend in any major party city. Thank goodness for taxis or else I think we would have just slept in the middle of the city.

Wait... is This London or Atlanta?

Vacation or as they so awesomely call it in Europe holiday, is a time to enjoy the fact that one does not have classes nor any type of obligation outside of waking up past noon on any given day and staying out til the sun rises. However, when you’re in a masters program in Europe you still have homework. Or worse yet, final papers. Yes universities are asking students to complete 5,000, 8,000 and even 10,000 word documents right after new years. I personally made it a point to complete my assignments before leaving for said holiday as I knew (and was right) I wouldn’t get any work done during break.

Before I left for England in September my very slick soon-to-be hubby warned me that upon my return to the states I could find myself having a difficult time readapting to life. Allow me to explain… many many moons ago my hunny served in the U.S. Armed Forces. He was stationed in South Korea and Germany for a total of four years therefore his experiences with returning to states was/is very familiar, especially after being away for large periods of time. Now, I being the woman I am thought to myself, oh that was just him; I won’t be like that. Oh boy… how I was wrong (yes, you just read that right). December 12th came around and I was ecstatic to come home. I missed my guy, our friends, our little ones and most of all my job! There’s no going around it, I was BEYOND HAPPY to be returning to work. Just don’t tell my boss. ;)  From the moment I arrived I wondered if and how I would notice little differences and out of the blue I was metaphorically smacked upside the head. From the simplest things like taking the escalator (hello! People really should stand on the right so those who want to go around you can on the left!) to going through customs. I’m learning if you’re an American rules really don’t apply to you.

From the way people acted to driving on the right side of the street or even driving on an interstate I realized I had spent the last few months being fully engulfed in a different culture and I MISSED that culture. I’ve become so use to public transportation and 19 roommates that readjusting myself was not only going to take some time but effort on my part. The best way to describe it, its as if I was in one reality, pulled into another and as soon as I started to adapt and become truly comfortable I was taken out of that reality and put back into my old one. While I was home it dawned on me, this IS my life… our life since I share my life with my fiancé, and truth be told but I’m not completely happy with that life nor the one I live in England. I’ve had time to sit and think about what comes next. What changes I can make both for my future and my families.

It’s now January and I’m back in the U.K. for spring term. I’m not going to lie I’ve missed some items from the states and I made it a point to return with some said items. For example, macaroni and cheese (my favorite guilty pleasure), a rather large jar of Jif Peanut Butter and popcorn. Yes I said popcorn. It really is the simple things in life that make me the most happiest and right now its popcorn for those movie nights with friends.

As Buzz Lightyear would say, “to this year and beyond!” Ok, that’s not right but it is a new year and I plan on making it a good year no matter how many times I’m dropped from my England reality to my U.S. one.

Missing The Scene of Direction

So it finally happen… I got on to the wrong train. It took me nearly three months to do and while a 16 pound turkey was on my back. Well in my backpack but STILL. Haha. :P

I had to travel more than an hour to Kensington to the closet Whole Foods for the thanksgiving bird and on the way back I went in the wrong direction. It only took me two stops to figure it out but the epiphany was humorous all on its own. As I was on the near empty train I began to notice more trees and less buildings. Immediately I looked out the window to see I was heading into the country side of London. Ok, well maybe not country as some of my southern friends would picture in their minds but it was definitely out of the city. 

I jumped off the train only to find out in order to get onto the other side of the tracks I had to swipe my payment card to exit then swipe my card again to gain entrance for the same tracks going in the opposite direction. Oops.

The trip back home took me nearly two hours thanks to the weekend track maintenance. For those who decide to come to London I say familiar yourself with the transportation system as soon as you can (the map of the Over/Under Ground and National Rail below) and if you still get lost, make a day of it. Have some fun, just without the turkey on your back. ^_~

For those who want to come here and drive on the wrong side of the road I say fly into one of the smaller airports outside of the city and then go crazy. Otherwise you will never want to drive in the U.K. ever again (they’re crazy!!). Better yet, you too should get familiar with the transportation map(s). You never know when you’ll be traumatized by their “driving” style. 

See. I told you it was funny. 

An English Thanksgiving

Thursday was Thanksgiving and as many know, it’s only celebrated in the U.S. but just because it’s an American holiday doesn’t mean you can’t celebrate it no matter where you are in the world. This year because I was away from home (obviously) I decided to celebrate it with new friends, my course mate family, and flatmates. Those of us in the TVJ program had filming on the actual holiday therefore Wednesday was the night! I left classes early, started on the bird and american goodies of side dishes.

I was extremely nervous because it was my first time ever being in charge of the special day. Not to mention explaining the holiday to friends who have never heard of it. “Well… see there were these indians…. no wait…. it’s about being thankful…. yeah, yeah, that’s it. It’s about being thankful.” It was rather difficult but I was able to make stuffing from scratch (I still think Stove Top stuffing is WAY better), sweet potatoes with marshmallows, garlic roasted mashed potatoes, and bourbon gravy. Yes that’s right, I just type bourbon gravy. Each of the recipes I found were thanks to Martha Stewart but I will admit, she’s not the best cook out there. At least recipe wise.

We had around 20 people packed into a kitchen designed for 10, many from other countries including Canada, Germany, France, Greece, Italy, Pakistan, Egypt, China, Nigeria, India, even Argentina. Everyone brought something whether it was a dish from their own country, a bottle of wine or dessert. Many laughs were had, Christmas music played and there were no leftovers to speak of. 

Thank you to everyone who came. It really brought a little bit of home to London. 

I think for my first solo Thanksgiving with friends we rocked it. I don’t know how I’m going to top this next year. :)

Pub Food . . . Yes or No?

I feel like I am in a constant episode of HIMYM sometimes as there are a number of great pubs within steps of my flat but I continue to go to my favorite, the Old Haberdasher. Recently, I found myself enjoying a pint with friends when the realization of hunger came over us. Upon my viewing of the usual “bar food” I found they have nachos. Looking at what was included (guacamole, salsa, sour cream and jalapeños) I thought to myself ‘how bad could this be? I mean they’re nachos.’ Ordering of the bar goodies was made and food was delivered to our table. Do you see where this is going yet? And no, it’s not in a good direction.

Everyone knows I am from San Diego and I will admit, I have been spoiled with GREAT Mexican cuisines including carne asada burritos, tamales, enchiladas, homemade salsas and most of all yummy guacamole and in the end all I can say is...

Dear Britain,

I understand you like to think some of your foods are edible but in the end putting ketchup in what you think is salsa is a cardinal sin. Please stop torturing ketchup in such a manner. There are no words to describe just how disgusting this truly is. Oh and your peanut butter is horrible as well.

Sincerely,

Breanne

Other foods that I highly recommend any visitor to Britain stay away from:

Onion rings -They don’t use real onions. (Do wha!?!?!?!? I know my mind was blown as well)

Peanut butter -Its more like oil butter with a hint of peanuts added in.

Coffee from Costa -Coffee is not meant to be burned. Where ever you got this idea, FORGET IT!

Any type of Mexican food dishes -You’re Britain, not Latin America. While we thank you for trying, please just give up and stick to your fish and chips, thanks.

Cheese -Just trust me… it’s not what you think.

Now I’m sure one day this will change, but for now I felt so bad for my friends that I decided to make homemade salsa and guacamole for them to enjoy. I mean no one should have to endure such horrors as ketchup in ’salsa’. Yuck.

Print vs TV -Round 1

There is this underlying animosity amongst the journalism students and TV journalism students. Today, I think I figured out what it is... they're douches. When I started at Goldsmiths the gossip around the various journalism courses was TV and (print) Journalism did not get along. I being the open minded individual that I am ;) allowed this to go in one ear and out the other. Well it’s six weeks in and I have to admit, those rumors aren’t too off.

Could it be that radio and television just get to have more fun? I mean think about it... we’re the ones running around, going out getting the stories, watching the action happen live good and bad. We are as they say ’in the trenches’ but Journalism. . . well so far I’ve noticed they sit in a room all day long and talk about us while writing stories for a “news” website dedicated to what is going on in the boroughs surrounding our university.

Now don’t get me wrong... journalistic writing is NOT easy by any means. I continue to work to perfect my writing everyday but there are those times when as a TV journalist you can’t help but want to take one of those journalist out of their comfy little cubicle and away from their little computer with all the knowledge they hold dear, throw bags upon bags of gear at them then send them out into the freezing cold or the blistering heat while saying “now go get the story and don’t come back until you have every piece of it!” I don’t really think they would make it. If they didn’t drop dead from carrying the weight of the equipment to and from the tube, when they returned to find out they are the only one to edit their work, I think they would understand TV journalist are not lazy nor do they have it easy by any means. 

So, to my future journalist of all mediums I say this: in the end the littlest things matter. Like not pissing off your cameraman or getting the date of an announcement correct. Because one day you might have to do my job, which lets be honest, is f’ing hard.