1/6/2008 11:31pm

In 38 some-odd hours I’m moving to a country I’ve never been to. I know three people there, one of whom will live at least 200 miles away, the other two will be in dorms across the way, however though they will have only been there a week longer than me.

What I’m leaving is a house with impromptu polka dots. Every twenty feet there are four squares of different colors. From the street it looks like the mark of a stark raving lunatic, but from the inside you can learn it’s about to be painted one of those four colors… eventually

One of the toilets doesn’t flush. One of them never stops flushing. The sink in the kitchen gets hot when you turn the “cold” knob and cold when you turn “hot.” There’s been a beer can on the patio table since New Years, and a Nerf dart stuck to a mirror downstairs since the going away party last night.

The house, which has been for sale for a year now, is a casualty of the divorce that started 13 months ago. Both of my parents have promised me that it’ll be finished by the time I come home. Dad told me tonight that if the house sells while I’m gone his new home will be mine as well.

He also told me as he was going down to bed that he’s not going to die while I’m gone. While this is reassuring, the fact that enough people have told him they fear that he might, even without him having anything concretely wrong with him, is not. I was the first to tell him this a few years ago. He tells me that this “truly saved his life.” He’s profoundly sad that I’m leaving. He’s sad in a way I’ve never seen him before.

Mom on the other hand, who has been living in Texas since June is more scared than anything. She knows we can handle not seeing each other for a semester, but being 1,000 miles seems very different than 7,000. We spent an hour practicing using Skype today, running every possible scenario. Her computer calling mine, mine calling hers. She called my cell from her computer, I called hers from mine. With and without webcam. We covered our bases.

She reminded me today that when I got to the airport on Tuesday that I “really need to make sure (I was) through customs before (I) start to dilly dally.” I visibly winced, shook my head and started laughing to which she replied “I love Skype! If we hadn’t been webcamming I’d never’ve seen that reaction!” I assured her, in my own words, that I’d get through the gates before I started to “fuck around.”

When I think about England, I get an image of a narrow street with three story brick buildings on both sides. All of the windows have festive awnings, and a red double-decker bus is driving by with cigarette smoke pouring out of the windows. Steam is coming up through a sewer cap in the middle of the road, and that’s just London. All of that I’ve seen in movies, but I’m not living in London.

When I think of where I’ll be living, Norwich, I come to a huge void. It’s like in the video game Command & Conquer (and every other war strategy game ever), how the enemy base looks before you build the spy satellite. There’s a bunch of trees and hills, an alligator and a polar bear pacing uncomfortably close to each other, all of this surrounding a big area covered in black. They call it “shrouding.”

I know Norwich is the home to The University of East Anglia, where I’ll be studying. I know Ian McEwan studied there. He’s the author of “Atonement,” which I haven’t read, and “The Comfort of Strangers,” which I have. I know that they do not sell macaroni and cheese, but that peanut butter can be found at any “international grocery store” and that the university has an indoor swimming pool.

Everyone I’ve talked to, whether they’ve been to England or not, offers me advice. You’ve got to go to Pickadilly Circus.You’ve got to go to a soccer game. Don’t try and stay up all night the night before and sleep on the plane: you can’t beat jetlag.

What this boils down to is that I’m going to a country that I know almost nothing about, to live in a city that I really know nothing about, and other than three people I’ve hung out with a handful of times, I’m going alone. This is the first night I’m feeling nervous about most of this.

My wonderful friends from home threw me a going away party last night. It was the most intense mix of people I’ve ever spent time with, but it was everyone who wanted to see me off, and most of them – all of the close friends – have told me that they really wish I weren’t going, but know why it’s important.

I’m glad I’m feeling nervous. This is supposed to be scary. I’m not just going somewhere new by myself – I’m going far enough away that coming home due to homesickness is not an option. I’m going to be there until June 16^th, and that’s all there is to it.

There will be no girlfriend at home who will call me to start fights just to make sure I don’t get lonely. My sister won’t live ten minutes away and lovingly invite me to her parties when I neglect to go out and find my own. This is going to be nothing like freshmen year – because I’m going to do it right this time. I don’t have a semester to get used to things. I have a semester.

I have three suitcases, seven framed photographs, and a few thousand dollars. What that equates to, I’m not sure yet, but it’s going to change my life. If it doesn’t, it’ll only be because I didn’t do it right, and I just can’t let that happen.

CONTACT INFORMATION FOR DAVE IN ENGLAND (To be updated as I get more information.)
Phone: +44-798-529-0855 (if you don't include the + sign it won't go through. On some phones holding 0 makes it appear. If not, call your service provider and ask.)
AIM: MaximumBandit
Skype: darobbins10 (Skype is free VOIP, free international calling, free webcamming. It’s wonderful… and it’s also the only way you’re getting me on the phone.)
Email: maximumbandit@gmail.com

Mailing Address:

David Robbins
Ntc006 Norfolk Terrace
University Of East Anglia
Norwich, England
NR4 7TJ