I’ve had something of a taste of being an international student since arriving in DC, though I’m not sure it is really comparable to the experiences of other international students, because English is my first language—even if I don’t quite speak (or spell) American. Still, it’s been a constant challenge that I’ve arrived at apartments, at houses, at basements and had to explain that I’m Australian, and figure cultural translations as I go. I assume that because I am Caucasian and speak English fluently I must have a much, much easier time than some of the other students I’ve met—but then, everyone I’ve met has been incredibly helpful. People are interested, ready with advice. I find it ironic that from the stories I have heard the Off-Campus Housing Department seem to have been the least friendly, least helpful people the students who’ve been looking for housing this week have met. In my part, these are only stories—I suppose I had already figured out that there was no magic equation to make finding a place easier. Everyone looking has access to the same resources—everyone has been sharing war stories of Craigslist for the past week. Dreary, expensive basements, ritzy condos, shared bedrooms, and, too, the rare bargain. It’s been quite a week.

Today I signed a lease. This in itself was a difficult process: I’ve found a home (a lovely, and too-expensive home—as far as I’m concerned it will be like living in the Hilton long term…) with a new flatmate, Annie. I met the landlord today, and provided every scrap of financial information I had with me. Because I’ve never had a US bank account before, or a credit card or social security number either, I have no credit history. Some international students haven’t had to go through that, while I was told that along with the letters and references I have provided, the landlord will also run a background check on me, and see if he can get an Australian credit report as well. Nonetheless, I’ve signed on for 12 months, and move in Saturday morning. Tomorrow I’ve got to go searching for a mattress, so I will at least have something to sleep on, and Annie is helping me with some basic furnishings—bookshelf, desk, chair—and bedding.

Tonight I went out with new friends. I met Sheena (a Londoner, and a linguistics grad student) a few nights ago in the bathroom while brushing my teeth, and chatted to her for a few hours again last night. This afternoon I dropped in to say hello to her and met Janine (from Luxembourg, studying German literature) who was starting to get distressed because she hadn’t found a place yet. We all talked it out, and reassured her that no matter what, on Saturday when we leave the Georgetown dorms, she would be able to stay with one of us until she found her home here too. After this conversation she got an email about a shared basement, and we walked her up to 37th and T: after a haphazard tour, it looks like she’ll be taking the place there, in a furnished student sharehouse. Knowing that we were all taken care of, we went to The Tombs and shared a plate of hummus (delicious) and had some drinks. Anna (Colombian, studying Foreign Service) regaled us with stories of her earlier American College experiences when she’d attended a college in Massachusetts. “You will see people turn up to classes half an hour late in their pyjamas. No pens, just a coffee. Wearing pyjamas is allowed. It’s considered free speech.” I suppose, when undergraduate students have to live on campus for their first two years, sometimes it must seem easier than getting dressed. But you won’t catch me doing it.