So I'm firmly re-established in the lovely city of Bath. It really is nice to be back in my house; however, the walk up the hill with 20 pounds of groceries (weight, not currency) to restock the empty fridge was not something that I had been looking forward to with much pleasure.
On Saturday, the city of Bath was a sea of black and blue (not bruises, colors. err, actually, maybe bruises too, but not until later in the day). Bath Rugby, which is Bath's rugby team (bet you wouldn't have guessed that, huh?), had a home game-- and when that happens, half of the residents walk through the city in their black-and-blue-striped rugby jerseys. Since several of us (myself included) had bought Bath Rugby jerseys a few weeks ago, we looked like real locals-- I had two people come up to me and ask for directions to places within five minutes of walking into the city centre.
Most exciting of all, we had tickets to the game! A big group of us met up with Beth and Hadrian (our "student liasons"-- they are enrolled at the local university, and come to hang out with us and get us better acquainted with social life and such), and got pushed along with the current of people heading to the rugby pitch.
(But not, of course, before we could take some fun pictures):
The debate over the proper way to pop one's collar.
Game faces!
(I just think that this picture is hysterical.)
So we got to the pitch, and realized, after walking around for quite some time looking confused, that our tickets were for stands in which one actually stands-- we didn't have seats! This was a bit disappointing. However, we discovered that this put us with the intense fans, who were willing to stand for all ninety minutes of the game, and they are the fun ones, so this was fine. Anyway, we packed in like sardines...and only then did I realize that Hadrian, who was supposed to be explaining the rules of the game to us, was way the heck on the other side of the sardine can. Woops.
My friends around me proved to have no more knowledge of the game than I did (which is to say, none of us had any knowledge whatsoever), and we were in the process of resigning ourselves to the fact that we would look and sound like stupid Americans in the midst of the super duper cheering section, when we were distracted by the appearance of the team on the pitch:
Why, helllllo.
Looked like we would be resigning ourselves to be stupid Americans who would also be oogling the rugby players for the entirety of the game. Since none of us really knew what was going on, we spent a good deal of time deciding which player was our favorite.... based on fitness, of course.
(I should probably take a moment to note that "fit" in England means something slightly different than it does in America--it's more like saying that someone is "hot," not necessarily physically in shape, though both of these qualities might be encompassed in that particular individual. Or, in this case, two full teams of rugby players.)
This guy was my favorite, even though he was on the other team. I have a good reason though-- his last name is Cohen. A Jewish rugby player?! How could he not be my favorite? (Also, he's pretty.)
Anyway, the game is going on, and we don't really know what's happening. I made a valiant effort to figure out the rules, and by the end, I at least had a general idea of how points were scored and stuff. Mostly though, we just cheered when everyone else did and booed when everyone else did, and watched the scoreboard (and the men).
Despite having missed much of the game's nuances, I will try to provide you with at least my account of how the game went:
1. It started out with the cutest little team of rugby players in the world waving flags while Bath Rugby ran onto the pitch.
2. Rugby is to American football as whisky is to chocolate milk. This sport is played with no pads, and considerably more tackling occurs, and the rules are much more complicated. The Brits call American football a "sissy sport," and I'm pretty sure they're right. Injuries are attended to on the field whilst the ball is still in play, and the players hop back up after an injury that would have sent a football player off the field for the rest of the game, and keep playing. It's insane.
3. Interestingly enough, for such a violent game, there is an awful lot of civility on the part of both the players and fans. During what is the equivalent of a penalty kick or field goal attempt, the crowd is silent. After everyone piles on top of each other in a tackle, they help each other up. Cheers are relatively tame, and occur with little frequency. Hardly any heckling occurs (the worst I heard was a chap yelling, "Tackle 'im! Tackle 'im! Tear 'im apart!", and that only happened once).
4. Speaking of cheers.... the best cheer-er in the whole stadium, as far as I'm concerned, was the five year old boy behind us, who yelled more than anyone else around us, and was adorable-- yelling "Come on, Baaaahth!" in his little British five year old accent. Also, we had a lot of difficulty joining in the cheering, because the usual difference in pronunciation of the "a" in "Bath" is exaggerated dramatically when the word is held out for a longer period of time, as it is in a cheer.... so we sounded stupid yelling, "Come on Bath!" when everyone else was yelling "Come on Baaahth!". It was a problem.
4(a). British cheers are strange. The only things we heard that were repeated or chanted in unison were:
-"Heeeyyyyy yooooouuuu, Baaaaaahhhh" (which we later discovered was supposed to be "Bath," not "Bah", but that's what it sounded like). This was a positive cheer.
-"Rubbish! Total rubbish, ref!" This was a negative cheer. We spent much of the day simply yelling "rubbish!" whenever something was not to our liking.
5. This is a scrum:
5(a). This is a big pile of limbs:
- I have yet to figure out the difference.
Anyway, we all had a jolly good time. We intend to come back again (and next time, we'll read up on the rules beforehand). After all, we have to get our money's worth out of the jerseys we bought! Also, and probably more importantly, Bath Rugby won-- 31 to 16. Take that, Sale Sharks! Hah.
After the game, a few of us went out with Beth and Hadrian to a milkshake shop that we didn't know existed-- but we are very glad that we know about it now! They had approximately eighty bajillion things that you could put in a milkshake (and you could even order your milkshake hot, which was terribly confusing for my poor little brain, but made lots of sense to my tastebuds when they got to try Clay's). I had a delicious milkshake made with Terry's Orange Chocolate (you know, the chocolate that is shaped like an orange and you can peel apart the little sections) and Jaffa cakes (British cookies with orange jelly and chocolate on top), and I couldn't have been happier with my life at that moment.
Other than that, the evening was relatively uninteresting. Much sitting around and talking while procrastinating beginning homework occurred.
Today, after reading a huge chunk of Mansfield Park (which I'm actually disliking more upon second reading-- sorry, Jane Austen), I spent six hours preparing dinner (this included the super fun grocery trip that involved dragging my provisions up the hill of doom). My absolutely amazing dinner consisted of:
-Cornflake-breaded chicken fingers.
-Green beans.
-Homemade mac and cheese.
-Apple pie.
(I must be missing American food or something)
It was delicious. And I made so much food that Clay and Ali and I will have leftovers for the better part of a week. Great success.
And.... now I'm off to bed. Back in Bath, back to work-- I forget that I actually have homework to do here sometimes! Goodnight, dear readers; I leave you with this picture, so that you can meditate on the concept of "fitness":
Ruggers are awesome, but they never seemed "fit" to me :)
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