Heads Carolina, Tails California

So a little over a week after I return from my adventures in the US of A, I've finally gotten around to writing about it. Sorry for the delay. Boredom, apparently, doesn't inspire you to actually be productive... This is super long, so I'll finish it in a follow up post later.

For all the country fans out there, you may recognize the title from Jo Dee Messina's song (I encourage you to play the song while reading this post, just to get in the right frame of mind). Like the loser that I am, this was the first song I played when I began my trip last Wednesday. I bobbed my head along to this old favorite at our little train station, and thought seriously about flipping a coin right there, just to see. While I was impatiently waiting for my train to Rennes, and listening to my special-made playlist, I was randomly accosted by this very peculiar Austrian man who I think drives trucks for a living, but it was early and I admit that I wasn't really paying attention. I only mention it because we don't get randoms in our little corner of France very often, and I think he was quite happy to meet an English speaker (he wasn't, it seems, very fond of the French). Oh the delights of travel.

On the train to Rennes (and the subsequent train to Paris, 5ish hours in all) I was productive, and I will brag about it. I started and finished two philosophy articles that I printed on the sly in the teacher's lounge. It felt good, really good. I go in and out of moods where philosophy is exciting to do. Normally, it's the days where I am totally bored that I can't muster the ambition to buckle down and dive into a good article or chapter. That's why I need to be in school. When I have stuff to do, I get other stuff done too. I'm funny like that. Anyway, I got to Paris and took the long RER trip to CDG, only to wait at CDG for another few hours. Really, this was all a drag. I wait, just to sit on a train, and then wait some more, just so I can sit on a plane and wait even longer. Lots of doing nothing is involved in travel. That's why I prefer to have an amiga with me. Although, sometimes the waiting can be fun. I do enjoy people watching, and mass transport does provide the perfect setting to see a wide variety of people, and believe me, I saw quite a few characters wandering their way through the Paris airport. Good times.

After my long, and not all that enjoyable flight (the TV screen was at an awkward upward and to the side angle, making movie viewing not all that comfortable...but a bored passanger can't not watch the movie screen in the aisle, so to heck with the muscles in my neck...). When I got to JFK I had to race through customs to make my connecting flight. The plane for my next flight was literally a toy plane. I was in a row that was one seat wide. Needless to say, it was nice to spread out a bit without fear of unknowingly falling asleep on an unsuspecting neighbor. When we landed, I had already been traveling for close to 24 hours (or rather, sitting around). I was finally in North Carolina. And then it hit me: how am I supposed to find the student picking me up? I knew he drove a red and brown pickup truck and was going to pick me up outside...but that's not all that specific. I had no number in case he didn't find me, and it was close to 1am so no one was manning the desks in the airport. Hmm. I waited outside baggage claim for lack of a better idea and I sat. I sat for a good 45 miniutes and my fatigue was not helping my overall anxiety at the fact that everyone had been picked up and I was out there alone. Me and my suitcase, chillin' on the curb, awesome. I was so tired, and my lack of a backup plan was really starting to worry me. I thought to myself, all I want is a bed, or maybe just a pillow, heck I'll just lay down on the bench if that's what it comes to, I don't think my ride is ever coming... I'll have to call the department in the morning, but I'm not sure how... Thankfully, my ride showed up, and really not all that late. We landed early and I had checked my bag so I was able to zoom through baggage claim and was outside waiting at around the time my plane was supposed to land. But when you're exhausted, you don't always think rationally. It felt like forever.

I got dropped off at my host's house and was ready to go sleep. My host was very nice, and a fellow badger, so the guest room I stayed in was decked out with Wisconsin stuff. By 2am (around 8am France time) I was in bed, only to wake up less than 6 hours later to go to breakfast. My day was jam packed. I met with professors, chatted awkwardly about stuff I know next to nothing about, and tried to keep up my energy level. Everyone was extraordinarily nice, and the department felt really comfortable. It seemed like a place where I could definitely study philosophy. I sat in on a class, which was exciting for the first half, but by the second hour I was about ready to crash. Some strange adrenaline rush kept me going up until about 3pm, and then I was ready to curl up in a bed again. I was also annoyed at my throat, which was starting to feel pretty soar. Stupid circulated stale air on airplanes. Somehow though, I trucked through it and met some students and chatted it up with more professors, all of whom seemed pretty nice. After dinner I took a nap, because I was scheduled to meet some first years later that night.

After my nap we went to Hell. Apparently, Hell is the bar frequented most by the philosophy grads, and it also happens to be a bar that's pretty tight on security. Believe it or not, I did not bring my driver's license to France, because a passport usually does the trick. For less secure venues I just bust out my International Student Identity Card. And apparently, my ISIC card is not considered sufficient identification to prove that I was born before 1987. I thought I looked the part, but I guess to some people I still look pretty young. The funny thing was, my host and her friend thought my ISIC card would suffice and told me not to bother with my passport, but I told them I'd bring it just in case. I also lied, I guess, because when I went to get the passport out of my wallet it wasn't there. Oops. So we drove back to my host's house, I dug through my bag and actually brought my passport with me the second time. My bad. Overall the first years were very cool, and they seemed much less socially awkward than your typical philosophy students. I think there may be some self-selection giong on here because UNC has a reputation for being more social, so the more socially inclined tend to choose UNC in the end. But that's just a theory. I also beat two guys in a game of pool, because as you may remember me and the other assistants have some mad pool skills. The one thing that seemed pretty uniform from the first years was that the department and professors are great, but UNC is a college town, and with that comes the feeling of not being in the real world. There's not much to the city outside of the college, and to some of them (thought not all), that was a real downside. But overall, it was good, and I was able to pick their brains for a good amount of time. I think it helps being the only prospective there. Unfortunately, my throat was really hurting now, and every swallow of my drink really hurt. But I tried to push that out of my mind.


That night I only slept on and off. I would wake up super thirsty, but when I tried to drink my water I could barely swallow. I also alternated between being over hot to freezing. Again, like the stoic warrior I am, I pushed it out of my mind, forced down some more water, and tried to go back to sleep. When I woke up, however, my throat literally felt like it was completely closed off. Ouch. Every swallow was torture. I told my host that I was pretty sure I had strep throat, but also that I was pretty sure I didn't have my American insurance card with me (not needing it in wonderful, socialized France). She wasn't sure what to do, tried to assure me that it was probably just allergies, and I agreed to wait it out and see if it got better during the day. That was stupid of me, really stupid. I have allergies, and I've had strep throat, and I know the difference. A fever and not being able to swallow anything is the difference, but again, I put it out of my head and tried to enjoy the day. I had some good old southern cooking at a lunch with some of the professors and a visiting professor from Norway. And then I made the rounds with professors once again, and sat in on the lecture by the visiting professor. The lecture was hard to get through, and although my throat felt slightly better, I was freezing. It had been raining all day, which didn't help, but it wasn't that cold outside. I knew I was the only one that cold, and it wasn't because of the weather.

Other than that, my overall impression that UNC has a very friendly atmosphere was confirmed. I only had two incidents that sort of put me off, and they were comments made by two students about religion (or religious people) that were derogatory. I know that I will encounter those things everywhere I go, but for some reason they caught me off guard and I was put off by them. The professors were over the top nice, and the students all seemed to be friends with each other, and I really did like it there. In my head I was 80% sure that I would go to UNC after seeing it. I was expecting this to be a "gut" feeling that I'd end up there, which I did not have, but before I left I was leaning towards UNC and my visit gave me no reason to change that preference. In my mind (and out loud to some people), I thought that the only way I would choose UCLA would be if it somehow blew my socks off. But I didn't really expect that to happen, not after my visit to UNC, so after seeing UNC I was pretty confident that I would be there next fall.

Saturday morning I woke up to fly out to LA. That night was much like the one before it, only my fever (or at least, what I could only assume was a fever) felt worse, and my throat seemed even more inflamed then before. Even my lymph nodes hurt when I touched them. Things were not looking good. My flights, to top it all, were horrible. The pressure made my head and ear drums feel like they were going to explode (my ears didn't pop until Sunday, grrr). I was freezing, and I could barely drink my water. On top of that, I hadn't had a good night's sleep in 3 days. I was exhausted and miserable. I rarely break down, as many of you know, but on that plane (particularly the 2nd flight that was 4 hours long) I was very very close to breaking down in tears. I just wanted to be at home in my bed. After all, I was in the States, so why couldn't I just be home?? I rarely cry, and that day was no exception (thankfully). Somehow I managed to hold it in, and I tried my best to sleep. Fortunately, two good things did happen on that flight that made me smile. I think God made sure I had a window seat to try and cheer me up, because we passed over both the Rocky Mountains and the Grand Canyon. I've never seen either, and the view from the plane was amazing. God's glory in nature can have a very calming effect. Also, while on the plane I decided that the first thing I was going to do in LA would be to go to the doctor. I rechecked my wallet and low and behold, behind my American Red Cross blood donor, I found an old copy of my American insurance card. Holler back. I'm going to the doctor.

When I arrived at LAX I couldn't find my host, so I blew $10 on a calling card to call my host's cell phone. I kid you not, as I finished dialing his cell number, I saw this guy walk through the entrance and look around with a hand made sign that had my name on it. Well hot dog! Hey, that's me, I'm Lindsey. Awesome, no need for the card, and off we went. I got in the car and he and his girlfriend introduced themselves. They asked what I wanted to do first and I meekly said, "Can I go to a clinic or to the hospital or something? I'm 90% sure I have strep throat..." Ohh, okay. I skipped the small talk, because frankly, it hurt and I wanted some antibiotics. They certainly weren't expecting that, and a few phone calls later, they decided that the only place to take me was UCLA's ER. Alright, I think it's important to check out the campus hospital, after all, health care is a very important factor in my decision, at least it will be if this stupid illness doesn't go away. So we went to the ER, and after 3 hours I was able to chat with the doctor, tell him my symptoms and told him I'm sure it's strep, he said that I know the symptoms for strep quite well, I said that I've had it before, etc etc. One look at my throat and he agreed, no test or anything. The nurse said, "You're dehydrated so you need to drink some juice deary [sic], what kind would you like?" ...Um, apple? A few minutes later she returns with over 30 ounces of apple juice. Whoa. So I drank, and drank, and it hurt, but gosh darn it I was going to finish that mega drink. An attending came by and told me, very seriously, that I either have strep caused by bacteria or a virus. Crap, I know where he's going with this... If it's caused by bacteria, the antibiotics will clear it up in a day or so, if it's a virus, well then I have to tough it out. He went on to say that it could also be mono, which has similar symptoms and it's pretty common among people "my age"... what he was implying I could only guess. Needless to say, I prayed it was the former, because I really didn't want some 6 month tired-virus mooching off me. He said I could have one shot now or 10 days worth of pills... the shot, the shot! And that's what I got.

My hosts let me relax for a few hours, and after that I already started feeling better. The weather was, as you can imagine, beautiful (70 and sunny). They took me to Venice beach, and we ate some at some authentic Japanese supermarket foodcourt--better than it sounds, and the warm noodles felt really good on my throat. Then they called over some other 5th years (the people I met at UCLA were much older than the crowd of 1st and 2nd years I met at UNC) and we ate at this fun Cuban place. Lots of good ethnic food for me (we later ate Mexican, Thai, and something else that escapes me). That night I went to bed early, well LA time early (around 10pm), and I slept for 14 hours. It felt good. On Sunday they took me to see Santa Monica, downtown LA (every block is like another country, the diversity is awesome), and we drove home through Hollywood and the posh Beverly Hills. When I told them that the stuff I know about LA I learned from the Hills, they told me that they both love the show. Yes! I don't feel like a total flake now. So they drove me by through Lauren and Heidi territory, and believe it or not the Hill's theme song came on the radio. Coincidence?

Monday was the day for business (and the first day of full health! apparently it was bacteria). I had an hour or so to explore campus for myself, and I loved it. It really was gorgeous, and I loved that everyone still wore UCLA shirts and sweatshirts. I pictured UCLA being a bunch of buildings mixed up with the city, more like UWM or something, but it really is a campus just like any other, only it happens to be in a larger city. Very cool. Even the library was pretty awesome. My meetings with professors went well, and by this point I think I got the over my fear of them. My token question, "What do you think I should know about this department?" That question is purposefully vague, and they have a lot of room to elaborate (with less questions from me, I really am this lazy). But also, it shows what they think is important in a philosophy education, because whatever they emphasize is what they push for. Is it finishing in 5 years or doing imaginative/thorough work? For UCLA I'd wager to guess it's the latter. All in all, it was pretty cool, and I was pleasantly surprised by the friendliness of the professors and students. And, as it turns out, a lecture that was scheduled for Wednesday was moved to Monday so I was able to catch one of my new favorite Christian philosophers in the flesh (Robert Adams, that is). I was quite sorry, of course, that his wife was sick and couldn't give her lecture, but the fact that Adams was even at UCLA (he's now at Oxford, but used to teach there) let alone that he spoke on the only day I was on campus seemed more than a little providential. It's funny how those things work out, huh?

My impression of UCLA? Of the city: very cool, and I thought I'd hate it. It is kind of like a tropical sprawling suburb, but I can do suburbs, they're almost all I know. The weather, mountains, ocean, etc were also pretty awesome, not to mention the fact that LA is a city with stuff to do and not only white people. I liked that. I asked around about the status of women in the department (since they usually don't fare well in philosophy, but at UNC there's a 50/50 ratio), and all the students told me you don't get messed with at UCLA. They attributed that to the three strong and extremely intelligent women faculty members, but anyways, it was good to hear. Some how, I was just impressed with everything. The students were nicer than I expected, the professors were more open than I expected, and it really seems like the goal at UCLA is to produce well rounded thinkers who can see the big picture and actually contribute in a non-trivial way to the field as a whole. I got the impression that they train you pretty hard, and they have very high expectations, but that if you go there it's because you want to meet and exceed those expectations. At least, that's the impression I got, and I really liked that. I just had a good feeling about it, something I couldn't put my finger on, and I thought maybe I felt that way because I was finally healthy. Either way, I really did feel good about that school and that department.

My trip home was better than my trip there, with the exception of the taxi ride to the airport. The night before my host told the cab company that I only had a credit card, so whoever came to get me needed to have one of those credit machine things in the cab. When I got to the airport and handed my driver the card, he flipped out. He can only take cash, his machine is broken. Well my friend, we told the company that I only had a card. I repeat, I do not have $20, sorry. It was early, and I wasn't really in the mood to push it, but what could I do? I didn't have the money. Oh wait, I don't have dollars, but I do have euros. And what did I have left in my wallet, a 20 and 5. Well 20 euros is pretty much like giving him a 100% tip, but whatever, I have to go. So I gave it to him, much to his dismay, and then tried to explain that I was the one getting the short end of the stick in this bargain. Ugh. Whatever. Other than that, the plane rides were peaceful and I watched a lot of movies (this time I got to choose), and for my flight to Paris the seat next to me was empty which was pretty awesome.

There was only one problem with my trip: it made it even harder for me to make a decision. Before I left I thought for sure I would end up at UNC, but after my trip I was less sure. I was quite impressed with both schools, and I didn't really have a good way to decide. On my flight back I made a comparison chart. And you know what? It didn't help. I honestly thought I was going to have to pick some arbitrary way to decide (the NCAA tournament suggestion was nullified when both lost in the final four). I was sort of freaking out on the inside, because I didn't know how to decide. But then I took a step back and tried to think about how I felt at each school. I liked UNC, but if I'm being honest, I loved UCLA. I know I loved it because I expected to hate it so I think my standards for it were tougher than for UNC. My only hesitation was that my gut reaction could have been enourmously influenced by the fact that I was sick at UNC and not at UCLA. It was also raining at UNC and sunny at UCLA. Then there were those comments by the students at UNC about religion, but I'll get that anywhere. I mentioned this to Daena (about the sickness part), and she said that sometimes God uses weather, people, even illness to affect our "gut" reaction. Maybe God wanted me to be sick, have it rain, hear those negative comments, etc to warm me up to UCLA. Maybe the random coincidence of Adams giving his lecture was a sign. Maybe a lot of things, maybe none of it. Maybe I read to much into it, or maybe the fact that I'm even reading that much into it proves that I'm leaning towards UCLA. Maybe. But I wasn't even accepted to UCLA yet, just top of the waitlist. So maybe UNC is where I ought to go, and I did really like it there. I also know that I can do the south, but can I really do LA? So much uncertainty. I talked with people about, and kept going back and forth (though I only had a few days to decide before the deadline). In the supermarket, Irene made me flip a coin, like the song. I used a good old American penny.



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