Becoming Lancastrian: Notes from a Study Abroad Student

You don’t need to be at Lancaster University for long to realise the campus runs on rituals – tiny, funny, strangely endearing rituals. Within weeks, you find yourself doing them too, as if the place quietly rewires you through the rain and sausage rolls. What I didn’t expect as a Study Abroad student was how quickly these rituals would feel comforting. There’s just something special about a place where the people say “you alright?” as a greeting and laugh through winds strong enough to rearrange your entire personality.

When I arrived in Lancaster at the end of September, a week before classes were due to start, I thought I knew roughly what to expect. I’d been to England before after all, albeit only the South of it; at the time, I wasn’t aware there’d be such a big difference between the different regions. More fool me. The trees were golden with their last specks of green, rustling constantly in the gusts of wind that never sleep, and despite the blue skies, I found myself shuddering beneath my cardigan. As I walked across the County South Quad, someone passed me in shorts and a t-shirt. I suppose there’s always bound to be a way to tell apart the locals from the exchange students.

I would love to tell you something sentimental and romantic about my first night sleeping in an unfamiliar bed halfway across the world, but the truth is that I slept like a baby and don’t remember much. Travelling for a good 23 hours straight will do that to you, I think. After those first few foggy days of adjusting to the time difference and wandering around campus like a confused robot vacuum, I started noticing the little things and everyday quirks that make Lancaster University… well, Lancaster University. I suppose every campus has its clichés, but Lancaster’s feel oddly specific. You start collecting them without meaning to, almost like souvenirs and trinkets you didn’t realise you were picking up –– and yet, here they are, in your pocket.

To start us off, I have to, of course, mention the weather discourse. I genuinely used to think that small talk about the weather was a stereotype only found in songs about heartbreak and film scenes of awkward first dates. But here, it’s practically a cultural practice: I’m fairly certain entire friendships have been founded on shared complaints about the rain. Then there’s the student population’s incredible devotion to Greggs. To the untrained eye and the uninitiated, it appears just like a queue for pastries – but don’t be fooled. It is, in fact, a pilgrimage. During a trivia night held on my second week here, I was told that the Lancaster University Greggs is apparently one of the busiest outlets in the UK. I was surprised then, but now and if true, it makes perfect sense. This wouldn’t be an article about the quirks of LU if I didn’t include the 'Spine shuffle': a survival skill you learn without much of a choice. Honestly, it’s less a walkway and more an ecosystem: bikes, leaflets waved about for societies and events you probably won’t join, and other commuters doing near-acrobatic dodges to avoid puddles that could probably be classified as small lakes.

While these traits and quirks shape everyday life, it’s in the socialising that I learned how truly warm it can be up in the North. The colleges and their bars are a defining feature of social life at LU. Each college, from County to Pendle, has its own quirks and loyalists. Pub trivia nights, karaoke, and society socials aren’t just good fun (although that they certainly are!); they’re part of the scaffolding that holds life away from home together. Something I also truly hadn’t expected was the sheer amount of hyper-specific societies. From medieval re-enactments to competitive board gaming –– if you can think it, there’s probably a club for it. I’ve been part of the Craft Society and Writers’ Society, and am always pleasantly surprised at how welcoming and inclusive it all is.

Amid the chaos of trying to get my assessments submitted and my groceries restocked, the warmth of Lancaster University shines through –– oddities and all. Impromptu friendships formed while out on the town have led to incredible memories, and the friendly quips from strangers also in line at Coastal have made a difference in the quality of my day. It’s in these moments that the quirks stop feeling strange and start feeling like the invisible threads holding everything together.

Now, as a student here, I should probably write something about the academic aspect of my time at Lancaster University.

My favourite thing about studying here has been the seminar sessions. Even though there’s often quite a bit of reading to do, I enjoy the self-paced learning style and always look forward to discussions. I’m constantly intrigued by how there’s always a new perspective that would have never occurred to me on my own. Despite the hazards of a possible union strike and the stress of deadlines, there’s an undeniable charm to studying at LU. There’s a sense that everyone — even the stressed, the tired, the perpetually late — is participating in the same shared culture. And that’s made for an incredible experience for me.

Being at Lancaster for just a single term is a peculiar kind of immersion. I arrived as a cautious observer, and before I’d even noticed, I was swept and absorbed into the rhythm. It’s oddly comforting: there’s a sense of belonging in learning the steps of this local dance, even if I know my role in it will be fleeting. As I approach the end of my Michaelmas term here, the university leaves its mark on me not from any monumental experiences, but in the accumulation of these little rituals. The warmth, the humour, the chaos, and the small gestures of community are what make it unmistakably Lancaster University — a place that feels simultaneously familiar and entirely unique, especially to someone lucky enough to see it through fresh eyes.