Watch: the Fabulous and the Functional (Week 3)

I love watches. Classic elegant, neon green rubber, suave leather, blingy gold, snap-on pink  – so many options, it's just so exciting. As a fashion-forward child, I always wanted a watch (because I would go through them pretty quickly; don't ask how). Unfortunately, I never needed a watch. No one really does. In elementary school, I couldn't tell time anyway. Junior high and high school were dominated by bells telling people when to leave and come, and every classroom and hall way had at least one clock. Besides, around the time of high school, everyone had cell phones for the time. Watches were basically obsolete, functionally; they became merely a fashion accessory.

Ever since I got a cell phone, I stopped wearing my watch. Occasionally I'd wear one if I had an important test in an unfamiliar building or if I wanted to look more professional for a presentation. But most of the time, there was no need for it.

In London, there is a need for knowing the time all the time. I've worn my watch almost every day since I got here. And I'm not the only one. Places are pretty stingy with clocks, and phones have gotten so big they have to go in a purse or large pocket. Because it is so important to have the time right then, it is very difficult to dive into a purse, conduct a search for a phone, and emerge triumphant. It is much easy to wear a watch.

Before, I thought I was fairly monochronic with my time. I don't like to be late, and I follow schedules pretty well. In fact, it drives me nearly bonkers when someone flakes on me or fails to have a concrete plan. But I am nothing compared to the giant system of London. It runs on schedules and precise planning. London is Time, a giant clock commanding everyone's life.

A main cause of London's monochronic personality is the public transport. Usually, I'm not too bothered by waiting for the Tube or a bus because there is nowhere I have to be at a particular time. However, my Wednesday trips to Southampton are proving to be intensely involved. I have to be at Clapham Junction at a particular time to catch the train. To get to Clapham Junction, I have to switch from the District line to the Overground. Each change has to be calculated so I will have enough time to catch the right train. If I'm late, I miss the train, and I have to wait and wait forever until there is another one. If I'm early, I have to wait some more.

Because trains are supreme, people wait. Because everyone needs to be somewhere at a specific time, people wait. Because being late is frown on, people wait. The monochronic atmosphere in London forces a Molbius strip: monochronic system gives value to time which the inhabitants waste waiting for the monochronic system. Like time, this dilemma will not end.

Fight fight fight! (Week 2)

On my way home from school today, I saw something frightening–a fight almost broke out on the tube. Yes, Londoners were actually snapping at each other and being very rude. More specifically, a business man (in a tailored suit–need I say more) was arguing with a tube worker A perfect storm of a long day and tired people, the antsy disagreement crescendoed into fifteen to twenty minutes of waiting for the tube to continue on its way. (Note to future self: don't argue against the man with the power to hold the train; you can't win.)

It was about seven, the end of a long work day. And a Wednesday no less. The tube, like usual at rush hour, was pretty crowded. Because we were at Clapham Junction (the end of the line), hordes of people were waiting while everyone got off. Naturally, it took a while to unboard and reboard. When everyone was getting on, somehow the door kept closing. There are a thousand of reasonable explanations as to why. Well, at least two: it just does that or someone kept knocking the close open accidentally. But some tired P.U.S (poor unfortunate soul) was convinced it was the station worker purposefully closing the door on him. I guess when P.U.S gets tired, his mind doesn't make very logical conclusions. Then again, maybe he actually does believe the world revolves around him and his suit.

Whatever the reason, his mind or his suit, the P.U.S stood there, hating the tube. While he never raised his voice, the P.U.S kept arguing with the man with the power–the tube worker. "You're abusive, that's what," said the P.U.S, repeatedly. I couldn't actually hear what the worker said ever, but I gathered that he wanted the P.U.S to step off the train to deal with the situation. Of course, however, the P.U.S had other ideas, namely he wanted to go home. Unfortunately, so did everyone else except the worker, who held the train. For twenty odd minutes. Waiting the the P.U.S.

Later, once we were out of the line of fire, I started to think about the clash of personalities. In the US, I don't think the people in the compartment would have been so quiet. During the incident, there was one man who would periodically yell for the P.U.S to quit arguing, and one mother with an autistic child who was worrying (and the child who was...getting anxious). Oh, and one other man who was trying to smooth out the situation. Everyone else was either silent or having a very quiet conversation with one other person. In the US, this probably would have been upgraded to calling the police to subdue the train because everyone would want to have his opinion known. As it was in London, I think people were super annoyed with P.U.S (at least, I was), and I think they were surprised at the argument and didn't know exactly how to handle it. So, being English, most minded their own business.

Journey to Southampton (Week 1)

I always thought how quaint the Tube stations' names are: Parsons Green, Picadilly, Oxford Circus, Clapham Junction. They just sound so innocent and utterly English, like you can just stroll through the station with your umbrella tapping out a melody on the ground. Not true. Usually, that same umbrella is sopping wet. The stroll is in fact a mad dash from station to station, desperately ducking out of the mass of suits' way. Case in point: Clapham Junction. I supposed I assumed it was a junction of old lanes with a history of being where Queen Victoria would walk with her husband or where Cynthia caught the London Coach. I never thought of the vast network of rail work, hordes of uptight businessmen, and the stench of stale coffee. There were 18 platforms. 18! It was a stressful maze. But we managed to catch the right train (to Woking, as it happened). I truly felt British when we successfully transformed to another train to Southampton to meet with the dreaded Dr. Woods.

As it turns out (as things like this usually do), Dr. Woods doesn't actually bite. Or snarl or glare. He did sort of bounce off the walls a bit, but he was willing to sit still long enough to actually have a conversation with me. He was interested in my project, and worked with me on it by asking me questions while helping me answer the tricky ones. It was interesting–he was clearly the more intelligent one, but I was still in charge of my project. A good start for my statistics.

One odd note: Brits have a strange obsession with shut doors. The math building I was in was small (tall, but narrow) but each floor had at least four sets of doors for halls and staircases, and all the office and classroom doors were closed, making the halls very dark and claustrophobic.  

Cultural Immersion (LJ 4/9)

As this is my last learning journal for the semester, I want this to be a fun one to write. One of my concerns (from a bit of list) about my field study is spending too much time chained to my computer. Or even being inside too much. It's England! I need to immerse myself in the culture--otherwise there is no point in my going. In order to get myself out of the stat lab and away from my computer, the following is a list of things I need to do to get myself into the culture. (Having a list will motivate me a little more to get out and about.)

1. British Museum. I still have not seen the Lindow bog man. Poor Pete was on loan last time I was in London, so I was unable to meet him. And three years later, I am still disappointed. 
2. National Gallery. I'm a bit of an art history fanatic.
3. St. Martin in the Fields. Free piano recitals, but not of third graders who never practice. 
4. Borough Market. Food. Enough said.
5. Queen's way. Kebabs, waffles, and a high concentration of cigarette smoke--c'est la vie!
6. Gardens
7. Science Museum. I'm a mathematician, k? 
8. Bridge Walk. This was my favorite thing to do during my study abroad. There would be a group of us who would walk along the Thames from the Center to the Tower Bridge at night. 
9. Tube at rush hour. I'll just make sure I leave valuables at home that day.
10. White Cliffs of Dover
11. Theatre, anyone?
12. Pub crawl, just without the alcohol. 
13. Biking through London.
14. V & A. I only spent probably 45 minutes here last time. For shame.
15. Area around the V&A. I never managed to explore that area of town.

This is just a sample of activities to do to get involved in London's culture. There will be need to be another similar list for Southampton, but one thing at a time, love.

You can't do a study abroad for statistics! (LJ 4/6)

Yep. That's what my professor told me today in my Modern Regression method class. He was bemoaning the fact that there are no field trips we as stats students could take. There was just no point. Statistics is the same around the world.

"I attended a meeting," he said, "about teaching for a study abroad. But statistics? The people were so patient and long suffering.
'You need to teach something in the country.'
 And I said, ok...I'll be in the country.
'No, teach something related to the country like Victorian literature or Shakespeare.'
Ok, I can teach Shakespeare...I won't be amazing at it though.
'Not literature. Something related to statistics.'
Shakespearean statistics? You can't do a study abroad for statistics!"

This was when I pointed out that I was in fact doing a study abroad. In England. Studying statistics. "So what...you'll visit Bayes' grave? Fisher's house?" Lots of incredulous laughter.

I'll be the first to admit, there is no need to studying statistics in a foreign country. You can use statistics in a study abroad (i.e. carbon dating artifacts in Rome, analyzing a survey in Finland, setting up an experiment about mother education in Mexico), but you do not need to study statistics in another country. That is not to say you can't; it just isn't vital. A mean is a mean is a mean, regardless of where you are.

So...why is a field study a good match for me to study statistics? It has been a struggle for me to justify it. I will not gain anything by "visiting the grave" of a statistician, even a famous, significant one. In my field study proposal, there hardest part is answering "How will you benefit at this point from a program aimed at cultural immersion and understanding?" and "Is the proposed experience relevant to the program location?"

 Therefore, the justification for my field study does not come from the statistics; it comes from the personal experiences I will gain. As a statistician, it is necessary to be able to discuss and brainstorm with others from different backgrounds. Other perspectives lead to different approaches, analysis, and hence results. For example, in fitting even simple data, there are over ten different approaches to fit a line. And in those ten approaches, there are countless ways to apply them (cleaning data differently, having different cut-off values or significance rates, or even using different software). It is then necessary to collaborate with others to compare methods in order to be complete and more accurate in the final results. On my field study, I will be learning how to work with people of a different background. Currently, the only experience I have with collaborating is with my fellow graduate students and my professors--all Mormons, mostly from Utah. Even when I worked with the VA, the project manager was a Mormon, and my partner was my office mate.

In addition to needing to work with a British statistician, I need to be in England. Well...'need' is a strong word. But it would be beneficial for me to be in England because it will get me out of my comfort zone (by a ways) and force me to work with people I have never met before; good preparation for my real life that starts when I graduate.

Doctors in the House (LJ 4/4)

So, I apparently have an obsession with British doctors. First there was Doctor Who, and now there is Doc Martin. My dad recommended that I watch Doc Martin when I was on my hiatus from Doctor Who. Doc Martin is about a high-powered, brillant London surgeon who inconveniently develops a fear of blood at the height of his career. Forced to step down, Dr. Martin Ellingham becomes a GP in a small village in Cornwall. In the series, Doc Martin and the villagers are consistently at odds with each other as they are forced to interact with each other.

Don't worry; there is a point to this learning journal. In all of the episodes I have watched, there have been perfect vignettes illustrating several phenomena noticed by Kate Fox in Watching the English. For example, when Martin is first setting up his surgery, all of his "patients" come by just to talk about the weather, which of course infuriates Martin who is all about efficiency, not chitchat. The "Importance of Not Being Earnest" is clearly shown in the humor of the show.

It has been helpful to actually see the "English" in their natural habitat rather than just reading about it. Not only is it easier to see the bits of culture come to light, but also I can notice the response from all the participants involved in the situations so I can learn what to do and what not to do. It gives me something more concrete to emulate. And what words are insults and should not be repeated.

Depressing Culture Shock (LJ 4/2)

The premise of my learning journal today is from reading "Coping with Culture Shock." First of all, did anyone else notice that the list of culture shock symptoms was basically a list of depression symptoms?
Boredom, withdrawal, need for excessive amounts of sleep, compulsive eating/drinking, loss of confidence, and fear of the worst happening: manic depression disorder in the making. Even the "treatments" for culture shock follow the guidelines for preventing depression (my dad's a psychiatrist so that's where I know these things).  For example, "learn to live with ambiguity", "make a conscious effort to be empathetic", and "learn how best to manage stress" most certainly are part of a treatment program. So I am not sure why there needs to be a separate title for culture shock; just label it an on-set of (mild) depression. I realize that culture shock and depression are not identical. It was just interesting to note how similar parts of them are.

Given the similarities, I am going to suggest more ways in which to prevent or alleviate culture shock besides the obvious "preparation" the article gave. First, exercise as soon as you arrive. Not only does physical activity stave off jetlag, but it allows you to get into a routine quickly as well as increase your endorphins. Second, get sun. In the article, this would fall under the "familiarizing" oneself with surroundings and basic life skills. Get outside, be adventurous, but don't forget a map. Lastly, socialize. With depression, this entails connecting with family and old friends, but in context of a field study, this means getting to know your host family.

I am planning of having a horribly rough first few weeks of my field study. But having already accepted this and implementing the above "treatments," I should be able to make it through the rough parts and then being able to enjoy the rest.