The Chinese, man love and 'the cage'

Can't believe it's been more than a week now since I moved up to the city of constant rain. Already im starting to use words like 'mega' and 'champion', although not to describe the weather, which at best can only be described as shitty.

Monday was my first day in the great city's great University. My timing was perfect, as always, and I arrived 45 minutes early. Turns out my time buffer zone for the metro was entirely unnecessary, although a cattle prod would be a sound investment in order to keep the masses who are crammed into each train from standing on my feet and generally being annoying. I decided to celebrate my earliness with a visit to the departments little boys room to make 'use' of the facilities. Something which winningly used up some spare time also.

Upon walking into the induction room we were scheduled to meet at at 9.00am, I walked through some sort of travel portal and found myself in China. Now im not being racist, and by starting my sentence with this you will immediately assume that I am and hopefully go elsewhere for your 5 minute literary fix, but I would say the majority, and by majority I mean about 97%, are international students. Baffled by the hubbub of languages of which I had no clue (I struggle with English) I found myself wondering what I had let myself into. After a while a guy walks through the door and looking just as scared and baffled as me asks me, in English, if this was the right place for our induction. I immediately assured him it was and refused to let him out of my sight, latching onto him like a leech. Turns out he was on the same course as me. We had a brief man love moment. You could say our eyes caught each other across the room and that was it but that would be a lie. And a little gay.

The week has been spent indulging in induction activites, mostly involving field trips to various places of the northern water persuasion in beautiful sunshine with temperatures of tropical proportions. Didn't rain at all and I didn't come home each night looking like a drowned rat and smelling like a damp tea towel. I certainly didn't get grumpy at any time or make disparaging remarks about what we were doing.

All said and done though it was actually a great week. Got to know the guys and girls on our course. There are some guys from Italy and Austria, some girls from the US, Namibia, China, Ireland and Essex, and the rest I haven't bothered to ask as they are either male or very obviously English. A good interesting bunch, on what is promising to be an amazing course.

Friday night was to be my first night out in Newcastle, guidance and drinking companionship provided, free of charge, by the guy off my course and his housemates. A Newcastle graduate from undergrad he knew the sights and places to be. We went to 'Sinners'. Well actually, we went to this heavenly place after indulging in a sophisticated and well mannered gentleman's game known as 'Ring of Fire'. Almost as sophisticated as my new nickname, Cardiff Boy. After a bottle of wine and numerous concoctions courtesy of over eager tipping into the central pint glass, I discovered the main delight of Sinners. Cheap Trebles. £2.50 for a treble. A treble being three shots for those without a drinking problem. Treble gin and lemonades went down, well, like lemonade and I soon discovered the lure of the actual main delight of Sinners (I lied before). The Cage.

The Cage - In the right hand corner.


Now people dance in this thing. If you imagine sexy hot girls grinding away in an endless display of lavish sexual prowess then more fool you. Admittedly as the night goes on the girls that do venture in there begin to look like this but I feel this may be due more to the increasing number of trebles being consumed than some magical increase in sexual attraction and dancing ability. We decided we were going to jump on in and show the crowds how it is done. In we went. Or at least they did, I got partially in before realising I hadn't used the correct entrance where the bars are wider to allow for bodies of such ample proportions as mine to gain admittance. So there I was, half in, half out, hanging there like a manhandled chiwawa.

What a manhandled Chiwawa looks like.


I eventually got myself out, my stomach cramping like a camel on it's period but like the man that I am I continued to shake my stuff like nothing had happened. A damn good night. I slept on Alex's sofa enjoying that lovely water bed motion that being slightly inebriated likes to grace you with when you finally call it a night.

So a week has gone, I am officially a Newcastle resident and already i am settling into a routine. The course is as intense as meeting the inlaws, but it's worth it (a fact often not the case with the inlaws). Certain plans have had to be cancelled due to workload and exams, Kayaking:Pyrenees/Skiing...we'll say no more on that subject.

In other news, in a quick roundup of the weeks slightly less interesting happenings, I have been cycling lots, getting lost lots, seen insane amounts of wolf poop and have watched 4 films so far in one day in what has been one of my most epic hangover days to date. Until next time.