Walking into the West Campus Dining Hall is not unlike the scene of “Mean Girls” where Cady Heron enters the cafeteria in her stereotypical high school. She quickly likens the social groupings to those of animals she’s observed on a savannah. The jocks, the weird kids — they’re all present in a single space, but oh so separate.
After spending my childhood in one of those stereotypical American high schools, extreme separation and all, the West Campus Dining Hall was not all that terrifying for me. It was just how things were done. I suppose I say this from a place of privilege, because I was walking into what some would consider a hostile environment, though usually armed with a sidekick or two. Strength in numbers, I suppose.
However, I’ve made the trip alone a number of times, mostly by choice. Yet, while entering the dining hall alone, I knew that I was actively solitary. What I mean by this is that there is an unspoken rule that one shall not interact with other solitary dining hall goers. This is not a sad movie where the individual walks past groups of other students longingly, just waiting to be accepted. No, this is college, and this is Boston University to be specific. Sometimes we need our alone time.
Since arriving at the University of St. Andrews, I’ve been forced to take all of these preconceived notions of mealtimes and fling them from the most prominent precipice I could find.
Because I’ve been drawing an unnecessary number of Harry Potter comparisons, I might as well continue to do so. Imagine the long, wooden tables of the Great Hall, though instead of having treacle tarts magically deposited upon your plate, one must actually rise to serve oneself. But, that is beside the point. The fact of the matter is that seating is, unlike American dining halls, quite limited. One is sometimes even forced to sit on a bench next to another individual, perhaps even someone you do not know. You end up inevitably sharing your space with approximately 20 other students who live in your hall.
Mealtimes here also diverge decidedly through their scheduled times. Dining halls here are not open from 7 a.m. to 9 p.m. We have set mealtimes for breakfast, lunch and dinner. If you choose to be absent, then you will not eat. It is as simple as that.
Both changes remind me what it actually means to sit down to have a meal. While I am at BU, I sometimes scoff at the bizarre combination of foods I put into my body on a daily basis, most of which are selected on the basis of convenience or price. Eating something at home is a matter of staving off hunger pangs as a means to get through an essay or assignment before meeting friends or some other lame excuse for actually enjoying a meal.
Here, meals are meant to be relaxing. It is a time to chat, check in with friends and plan. Ironically, I’ve found that my meals here are absolutely delicious, while I don’t think I could name a single meal I’ve found delectable at BU. It’s not to say that I don’t enjoy my time in the dining hall at home. I think I’ve laughed harder in the dining hall than anywhere else at home. But here, there is a balance. We commune around our mealtimes and there’s something very homey about it.
It contributes significantly to feeling like a little hall family. And for that, I’m infinitely grateful. If I’m not having the best day, I know that there will always be someone in the hall at 5:45 p.m. The sticky toffee pudding doesn’t hurt either.
