(Mr.) Sheffield's Induction

PART I "Meet the Gang".

Now this is by FAR my favorite part of the story.

I drowsed off a little between periods of window sightseeing, eyeballing my itinerary from time to time. And then, when the moment came, I got down and changed buses.

It suddenly dawned on me how former British colonies (that are now proper nations of their own) have this subtle yet undeniable aesthetic aura that exposes the source of their upbringing (and consequently conforms their self-imposed raison d'etre, or as they prefer to call it: "The Commonwealth"). It's like a stamp of the Queen on your forehead, as I see it. I had had the opportunity to visit South Africa, Canada, the USA, and New Zealand in my short yet curiously amusing lifetime (which enabled me to establish parallels among them), but nevertheless this was my very first time experiencing the whole of *THE MOTHERSHIP* 

Now everything made sense.

I got down at the main station and sluggishly waded through the crowds towards yet another bus that would, according to the webpage as well as the gods of mercy, take me to the Endcliffe Student Village (where my accommodation for the Induction was booked). It was a tortuous hike, since the bus-driver dropped me off four entire blocks ahead of my truer destination, and time was ticking like crazy but I walked it off (literally, having no other choice) until I was finally where I was meant to be.

Once again soaked in my own perspiration/eau de xaillette, I got to my room and put on a dry chemise, a scarf, snatched my bag and rushed out of the building as fast as the wind!

After some minutes of anxious wandering about and around the entire university campus in search for the right building, I finally turned the map upside down (yes, I did) and realized my precious haven was staring at me from behind. I turned 180 degrees and entered a little courtyard which led me inside a room within another room where a certain conference had already begun. Bog, was I late again, confirming my inevitable "mexicanity". Ironic or cynical... maybe both.

I apologetically rushed forwards between lines of occupied chairs, and found an empty spot right at the front, where apparently only the speakers were supposed to be seated (oh, the exponentially escalating embarrassment!). But I took the space, anyways, since it was either that or standing in the middle of the room, looking like a bimbo Bambi, mother-and-brainless. 

The show went on, and each and every representative of the universities that put together the consortium went on about what they had to offer to us Mundus newbies. I was finally getting at the real stuff! 

There seemed to be a lot of girls around but no boys... oh wait! Just spotted one at the back. By the looks of him he seemed to be enjoying the gender ratio ('wouldn't blame him, it was like a nerdy Amazonian paradise). 

So what is it that we're supposed to be studying? NOW THAT'S THE REAL QUESTION.

It appeared as if we were hanging out at a local playground, sort of making up our own games as we went along: mashing up tag with underwater hide and seek, but using a ball that happened to be on fire (Greek fire, why not?), but only those who wore their glasses upside-down were allowed to play, without wearing any socks. That's the way I was picturing the whole thing.

And the reality isn't that different: Our masters program is called "Crossways in Cultural Narratives", and on the official webpage one can find the following description:

Since 2005 Crossways in Cultural Narratives has been one of the few EU approved and funded ERASMUS MUNDUS Masters programmes to specialise in traditional humanities with a modern languages background, taking European Identities and European cultures as its theme.

The Crossways in Cultural Narratives Masters Programme is one of 30 (out of 177) projects selected by the European Union for funding from 2012 onwards.

(Source from http://www.munduscrossways.eu/ if anyone's interested).

So it's a cross between sociology, art history, philosophy, and comparative literature, as I understand it; where the main focus is to generate knowledge on what cultural identity means, from different perspectives and/but according to European standards (which interests me A LOT, since it's the basis for many of the undigested syndromes us former colonies in the new world are suffering from: displaced ancestry lacking an endemic/"autochthonously" clarified ground-leading to various forms of self-loathing). We need to know and furthermore understand where it is that we come from (by practicing an evolving conscious exercise of awareness of our own selves) in order to help ourselves grow as individuals, as a first step in the process inherent to the able-bodied workings of a healthy community-apparatus. Heel, Iago, HEAL!

Any way, excuse my wording: it's just that I get really excited when talking about these things, and sometimes I don't seem to find the proper words to express what I truly mean to say (maybe we need to invent more ourselves, to broaden our linguistic horizon!). Just like Octavio Paz wisely demanded in his famous poem Las Palabras: "CHILLEN, PUTAS", (referring to the words themselves) right? they're never enough.

.....................

I just have only one thing to express using this language: I had never in my lifetime met such a group of preposterously/amazingly/brilliantly-out-of-this-world individuals gathered ALL together, out of pure entropy, in the same blipping space. KARMIC MAGIC. I couldn't bring myself to breathe enough oxygen out of inhaling so much inspiration from around. *she sighs, exhausted from all the hyperbolic descriptions her tiny brain was able to conjure in order to describe such a glorious little moment*
Don't get me wrong; I love my friends, and I've met a lot of truly valuable people in my lifetime, but not all at the same time and to the same degree. I mean, this was a baroque Christmas birthday party piñata in The Day of The Dead (look it up, it's Mexican and it's great fun).

People who thought exactly like me existed!! They were real!!!! Believe me, I poked them just to make sure (and they came from every corner of the world, strangely).

We had an official introductory session, where each had the opportunity to share with the others* what tickled their own interests/intellects, and what they consequently wanted their projects to more or less be like. I had found the Holy Grail, El Dorado se queda pendejo. It was as if I was hearing fairies and mermaids singing in the depths of my own most sacred inner cravings. I could not believe my ears nor my eyes.

And when the time came, I stood in front of everybody and muttered as genuinely and humbly as I could what my personal project looked like in the abstract form...

... to be continued...