November 17, 2009
for the two months i have been in glasgow, i get to hear at least once a week how wonderful my english is (the first several days it was literally once every couple of hours). i don’t have a slavic accent (you know, the one with the obscure “r” ), which is a good think – most of the times. with the exception of max (i think), almost everyone thought i was french. why exactly french, i have no idea, but i love everybody’s reaction as the find out that i’m actually from bulgaria.
now here’s where the funny part begins.
some time ago i decided to finally meet another bulgarian. just for the record, he’s doing architecture, though this fact doesn’t have a lot to do with the rest of the story. so, he was the first person to tell me that i had the accent of a woodman. and this coming from a person who refuses to talk in english. i’m not shocked at him, not at all. actually, i don’t give a fuck about his opinion. what makes me really angry is the fact that i talk in english all the time, and the moments when i have been misunderstood, are quite a few. but regardless those times, i still continue on speaking. because, you see, you don’t have another chance in here. you either speak, or you stick to the other bulgarians and you form a sort of chineese-like community. and, i’m sorry, but i can’t do that. i’m not saying i don’t want to meet bulgarians in here but if they all hang out with other bulgarians only (this has actually already happened, as strange as it may sound), i prefer to stay aside.
ps. the title refers to a joke brodie once told me. he said that every time i say “cheap”, he imagines my sentence will continue with “car insurances” because of a popular tv commercial.
ps2. by any reasons, french people with nickolay’s english, again – because of his accent.
October 30, 2009
several days ago i had to summarize my glaswegian experiences so far, and i was surprised (more in a good way) by the size of the letter i had written.
i suppose this month was the single most important month of this year. first impressions, first friendships, first falling in and out for someone. first birthday, first party, first getting drunk experience. everything was a first this month. 30 days of firsts. and every single day was the first one of many.
you know that the greatest thing about living here is? it’s the first for everybody, and no one knows what to do. especially in the morning.
October 19, 2009
if you happen to be a gsa student and you’re wondering where to go, the vic is THE place to be. most of the time you get in for free (simply because you’ve paid about 1800 pounds at the begining of the year), and even if you have to pay, it’s cheaper. for the rest of you, don’t worry – the booze is in general cheaper there than in other pubs.
but the vic is not a full-time bar. in fact, if you go there at midday (do it about 12-12.30), it will be almost as packed with people as it is at midnight. reason? it’s the fully working coffee shop of the gsa student union. and they make one of the most wonderful hot chocolates you’ll ever have the opportunity to taste.
let’s go back to the evening events.
to be honest, if you go there once, twice – you might as well have enough of it. but it will always be the plan B if you’re stuck on reverse and are wondering where to go and meet with friends (that’s in case you’re a poor student, of course). but it’s still A place. and there are some really good gigs, just read the info regularly.
(no photos of the place, because the neighbours will make me suffer.)
September 25, 2009
“oh, come on, guys, this is ridiculous. last week was like “heeey, it’s freshers week, let’s get drunk and forget our own names!” and now we’re “ookaay, we may now actually stay in someone’s flat and have a nice quiet evening with watching films and beer.”"
that is not that bad, by the way. when you come here for the first time, you cannot be not impressed by the size of the event during this sacred first week as a student. pubs, cafes, every place offers students discount, and sometimes that is really worth it. drinking is optional, of course, but everybody gets drunk at least ones in those seven days. it’s not a rule. it’s just the way it is.
but come and think of it, the whole week was epic, even the days were. you get to meet so many people, so many new faces. you have to repeat your name to the neighbour from the flat upstairs three times until he can hear you. in some extreme cases you try to remember everybody’s names for an hour. ten minutes later you have forgotten everything. but you will survive, don’t worry. everybody does.
and, yeah, everything comes to an end, but – hey – we’re real students now. and it’s gonna be legend-WAIT FOR IT-dary!
September 14, 2009
the whole week i’ve been here i was thinking – how to start? what is so important about surviving in glasgow that it just has to be in the first post? as you may suggest, the answer came by itself.
the three things you need to do (and as not usual, in the correct order) when you arrive.
. finding an accomodation (i can’t be really useful source of information about this one)
. opening a bank account (bank of scotland vs. barcleys. at least you have choices. and you need to get an appointment in advance, have it in mind)
. uk number. your choice.
okay, let’s talk about more important things. like how and where to spend your night.
where – i still haven’t got a clue, but tonight we’ll be going to the vic, which happens to be one of the important place to know here. and, yes, it’s in the campus. the other choice is to stay home.
quite honestly, i was really disapointed as i found out i was offered a place not at the halls i was hoping. but as i came here, i changed my mind. in about 10 minutes. you know, it’s not about the place, it’s all about the people. and here’s plenty of people who can put “arty” into “party”. i’m not saying that everyone’s a great person and we’ll become best friend forever (and this is something i would not advice you to do). but you can actually meet really nice people to talk to and have a pint with overnight. or have a ping-pong game on the dining table. literally.
