tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27175973637020783042024-02-19T21:16:16.736-08:00Calling London HomeAmandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14007997708103096676noreply@blogger.comBlogger11125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2717597363702078304.post-20054903508404942982009-06-13T00:53:00.000-07:002009-06-13T00:54:37.326-07:00Day Final. (154?) Home<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Well it is the final day, final morning, my stuff is (mostly) completely packed and I am only a few forms of transportation and 16 hours away from seeing my family again. I am excited to go back and see them and show them pictures and give them souvenirs, and eat American pizza and Wawa, and have the free groceries and laundry facilities that come with living at home. And I am without a doubt very excited to go back to a place where the exchange rate is 1:1. And while I’m not hugely enthusiastic, it will be nice to go back to work and breathe some life back into my bank account, which has been on parental life support for at least a month. I’m glad I get to go back and help my mom out – makes things a little easier to have another driver in the house when Dad is away and Jess is busy. I’m not exactly looking forward to my writing project (the deadline for which is creeping up rather quickly) as much as I thought I would be, but hopefully as I begin it will get easier to write. I am going to attempt to do a collection of short nonfiction essays, essentially each a portrait of a character I met while working at Garden State Flower Market, and hopefully it can be titled Portraits from a Flower Shop. I’m working with Lea Graham, and I don’t want to disappoint her.<br />So basically this summer will consist of selling shoes, writing stories, GRE review/reading, and helping out around the house. I’m sure I’ll be able to sneak in a few beach trips, and my 21st IS only a month and a half away. It will be busy and not very lazy and I don’t have as much of it as I usually do, but summer is going to be relatively enjoyable regardless.<br />I know that in between all the business, though, I’m going to be missing London. I’m going to miss obvious things: the history, the nightlife, the architecture, the sheer vastness of it, the ability to walk out my door and find just about anything I need within 15 minutes, the Tube, the accent, the cider, the pub food, the view from my window, the taxis, the markets, the shopping, and yes, even thelondonpaper. I’m sure that there is so much more that I will miss that I can’t even think of right now because I am too accustomed it. But I’ll realize when I go back, without a doubt. I’m expecting this to feel like a break-up, but one that I must suffer through privately. People at home are going to be offended if I keep talking about how great London was and sharing memories that they can only appreciate for the plot. They’re going to get sick of me talking about my travels, because their lives went on as well. That’s going to be the hardest part I think... the lack of someone to share it all with, the lack of someone who understands that I’ve grown attached to London – it’s home to me. But I guess that’s where you come in, blog dear, and I’ll just relive all my memories and release my homesickness on your virtual pages.<br />And I’ll be back here. Maybe to study, maybe to live. At least to visit. But it’s only a matter of time.<br />I’ve only just realized, but I’ve officially called London home. So I guess that’s a good spot to end my journey for now. And it’s a good thing because I only have an hour before I have to check out of my residence hall!<br />Cheers!<br />Love,<br />Amanda</span>Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14007997708103096676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2717597363702078304.post-18650185283432195152009-05-13T17:57:00.000-07:002009-05-14T02:41:05.717-07:00Day One Hundred Twenty-five: Finally Florence<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Well I didn’t leave you behind forever, don’t worry. Exams are over now, and I find myself in an awkward lonely span of days in between visiting Hayley’s house with Joy and meeting Flor, Dana, and Johanna in Paris. Joy and Rachel are in Paris at the moment, and when I go there they will move on to Nice in the south of France. Hayley is still at home, and I am basically alone here. It really makes me realize how much I have relied on having Joy around, and I honestly don’t know what this semester and my whole abroad experience would have been like without her. Having a close friend that lives down the hallway from me and clicks with me on so many levels has allowed me to do things in this city that I would have been afraid to do alone, and regardless of what we do we always have fun. I am so glad I’ve shared this abroad experience with her and I know that we won’t ever lose touch even after we’ve gone back to the States.<br />Anyway, while I’m sitting alone in my room without her comforting two-room-away presence, I figured I had better put my lazy time to good use and update this thing that I’m attempting to pass for a blog. And so here is Chapter 1 of the long-anticipated lengthy detailed Italy trip entry.<br /><br />I started out my journey at 7am, headed to the tube station with my £12 carry on suitcase (compliments of Primark) and backpack and purse, and made my way (with the help of several people who pointed me in the right direction) to the Victoria Coach Station, where I was able to get on the 8:35 National Express coach to Stansted Airport, where Air Force One would be landing later that day to deliver Barack Obama to the G20 Summit that was occurring in London that week. I checked in, checked my bag, and waited in line for security, who had to search my precisely packed backpack because my makeup set off the liquid sensors. Somewhere along the way I started talking to the grungy Irish guy in line behind me, who turned out to be a history PhD. on his way to a conference, and the smell of alcohol that permeated the air around him was explained when he told me he had haphazardly packed earlier that morning when he was still drunk from the night before. Having nothing better to do, I helped him find more whiskey in the Duty Free shop and he helped me find an Italian phrase book at the airport Waterstone’s, but when he invited me to have some tea with him, or should I say assumed I would have tea with him, before our flights left, I drew the line and insisted that I should really be heading to my gate since Ryanair flights queue early and I liked the window seat. </span><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></div></span><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335479100485234834" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrIz9v0KhyEgPRTWD5H_NVSU595F8I4ha8u5mYIYlpsLkLEkNhGbdAc_lAdMmqVI74fcIR-FszwM1C00ESsRvW9wzvhdmdAXAifKO0ZiIUS-dubB7iYyTAL2feNpl94-77R_AZgjVckFU/s320/Italy+001.jpg" /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">When I got to the Ryanair section of the terminal there was an employee checking carryon luggage. I stopped and proceeded to take 10 minutes to rearrange the contents of my backpack so that my purse would fit inside, thus abiding by their one-carryon-only rule, but as groups of people started walking by with suitcases, backpacks, purses, and shopping bags with only weak protestation from him I realized that he wasn’t really checking. As soon as I got to the gate I unpacked the contents of my purse and my purse itself from my backpack and waited for the flight to board. Despite being one of the first ones there I was one of the last to get on the plane, but the flight wasn’t full, so I ended up sitting on an aisle with one empty seat between me and a clearly Italian man sitting by the window. We didn’t say much to each other, and beyond the initial “Hi I’m sharing this row with you whether you like it or not” smile and the “Oh jeez there is a four-month-old two rows in front of us” grimace, we didn’t communicate at all for most of the flight. I intermittently studied my new phrase book and mouthed “Vorrei un biglietto di andate per Firenze,” fell asleep, and listened to music, and he was intermittently engrossed in a book titled “Degustations” and the view, but when we began our descent we started to make small talk. He probably between 29 and 32, and was wearing leather shoes, tight dark jeans and a black turtleneck, his hair was spiked Guido-style and his right eyebrow sported a piercing. It turned out he was a sommelier at the Ritz Hotel in London, originally from Italy, on his way to a wine-tasting conference in Verona. Impressed, I shook his hand and introduced myself, and we chatted about London and Italy, the conversation lightly skimming our separate pasts and futures that somehow connected in the present. Afterwe landed, I went to collect my checked bag and we parted – his name was Fabrizio Panchetti, and I was going to find him on Facebook, and maybe we could get together for a drink in London when I got back from my spring break trip.<br />Overwhelmed by the new country and essentially being asked out at an airport twice in one day I made a frantic call to Johanna before opting to take the Terravision bus instead of the Trenitalia (not to be confused with genitalia) train and I finally completed my journey to Florence.<br />Johanna was standing there with a sign (of course) when I got off the bus, and we screamed and hugged and then started walking toward Via Pronscola 9, their flat, which was literally right next to the Duomo.</span><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"><br /></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335479104304247650" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJGHMh9S1NLziOdnjjSVNMuawDvPLPew7QJvX3ybKIZ5q_5JSir1r-gvmW119T3BoDdvdZvKYRBSjY7e_HkjztIhNLlqbB2klQdzVb4j_WKKepzaSi8V3N1SyhryyzyWH84iKueyeNKQw/s320/Italy+005.jpg" /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335479107372881458" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDrMloyDayagI8KQRmuk1O2f8_dA99mHRprUM10p3uxnD7cUuAvsFgBcI0hedQMyej8pr71oIlwyRUAoUViraw7sYKn10x-GAsphXQyBsdojnUnzWaxLF_ssC8HqSe89oQTB9RrL7Eg18/s320/Italy+006.jpg" /></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I dropped my stuff off at the house and freshened up a bit before heading to their school, Lorenzo de Medici, where I was accompanying Johanna to her Italian class. I had a tomato-basil-mozzarella panini beforehand, since I was starving from my long travels, and I learned from Johanna that in Italy, if you get food in a cafe, you sit and eat it first, taking your time,and then you pay after. It is also insulting to tip them. I could get used to that. I saw Dana briefly before the class started, because she was going to her Tuesday night wine-tasting class. Beginner Italian was fun and it was especially interesting to learn a little bit with the knowledge I had from French and my Italian phrase book, but also from my linguistics class this semester, Word and Sentence Structure. Being able to pick out patterns in a language really speeds up the process of learning it, and since most of the vowels are pronounced phonetically, rather than silently as in French or unphonetically as in English, I definitely think it is a language that I could grasp. After the class, we went back to their flat and had some dinner – pasta with a sauce made out of vegetables that were essentially stewed together with some garlic, herbs, and olive oil. We had some fresh bread as well as some wine in an attempt to catch up with Dana (who was quite happy as she apparently is every Tuesday night after her class) and overall the meal was delicious and I was stuffed. After sitting around the table and chatting with their flatmates and friends, we went to get some gelato. In fact, every subsequent day I spent in Italy save one I had a piccolo cuppa or a piccolo cone of gelato. At only 2 Euro it was both addicting and delicious and I tried out many flavors before I left, including Tiramisu, Pannacotta, Fragola (strawberry), Cherry, Hazelnut, Nutella, Coconut, Mixed Berry, Dark Chocolate Orange, Lemon, and Stracchiatella (chocolate chip). Mmm calories. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335479112485947522" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil0wsZPOJi5Ry9B72OUZbzCXJDvZ6ZkCZ-Nd6As5VXK-N_TJ1YUpHSCIvxaRQ3R3UnnK9obnSCJRJ5FeQFOX8t0qMJEDDmHvApHsrWfPvpEbTyWmQTInXAgL5CyRZlFmJdKjpCVYNCGIw/s320/Italy+014.jpg" /><br />The next day I went to the market with Dana. We walked around the stalls selling leather and scarves and jewelry and souvenirs, and then we made our way to the indoor fresh market, where we picked out fresh bread, salami, mozzarella, and tomato to make sandwiches for lunch. Then there was a two hour block where both Dana and Johanna were in class, so Dana left me in line for the Accademia, the museum where Michaelangelo’s David is housed. The queue was pretty long but I had two hours to kill, so I waited. And waited. And moved a few feet. And waited. I had moved about halfway through the line in the hour and a half that I waited, and after that I gave up. I wandered around the Duomo and found my way back to their flat, and after I let myself in with Dana’s keys I took a little nap, still exhausted from my travelling the day before. When they got back from class, we all had lunch, and then they showed me around Florence a little. We got gelato (of course) and went to the leather market, and then Dana had to go to another class. Johanna brought me to the Ponte Vecchio, a bridge crossing the Arno River that’s lined with little shops hanging off of the sides of it.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335482998848646098" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFjlKdqlLdFkMm6wDWXLjp4zG3H8yS6OdfXJfdTh2CSKz4TetdWpMRwc7DUOI5KHYekCn6ISpSKF5exrPbQSRyhLJkY1mO_1Bg4Mfs8fg2XZJCQ7k3hYXMZ589E0sVD_IcT0smIJLTAOo/s320/Italy+035.jpg" /><br />It is so picturesque and very pretty. We walked around the river for a while and I was amazed at all of the yellow buildings – in Paris, every building was pretty much made out of the same stone, and they were all white, and in Florence, they are all yellow with red roofs.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335479113041848610" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTQI13v5tXcy2VLpij-nkZcPWRl918KIL9r5iTeqhxaJReEy-Cvr4BzOHd6LHVDGvmE3C-Kps-8QfxVNpBeilJkEmxJ_Cz5an3yqaqHbRxTqa5Z6jKUEt3iGhR33rWuwgZsFEeBnM2F-I/s320/Italy+031.jpg" /></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">We walked back to the Duomo but it was closed for the day so I couldn’t peek inside, and then Johanna had class and Dana got out of hers. I got an iced coffee and Dana and I walked around the market again, where I bought myself a scarf that I proceeded to wear every remaining day I was in Italy. One of the girls from Pronscola 9 had her parents visiting, and they came over to make dinner for us – mini pizzas. Little saucers of fried pizza dough + homemade tomato sauce = yummO. That night Johanna and Dana took me to a nearby bar (which turned out to be London themed!) and we caught up over some sangria.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335483002491801266" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-X0LdYnfjClpnC_VP0tczwFRhZKlEhEcwE5KXSp5cxk8uVzDIQzw4qLmpfsLwFPkjSoxkH8aX_nF7cCpjw05vJQdZPvsEF2mdILa-nQM9uNi__0irARJL5_tlkJ4rMx_IZN195i19cL0/s320/Italy+041.jpg" /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">We then went to another bar that had a dance floor, and were there for less than 10 minutes when we decided it wasn’t really happening. Johanna and Dana had brought their umbrellas because it was raining outside, but when we went to leave the bar the umbrellas were gone! After searching the bar and questioning innocent civilians with similarly colored umbrellas standing outside, we gave up and embraced the raindrops streaming from the sky on our way to the secret bakery. Sadly I don’t have any pictures from it, but the secret bakery is a bakery that illegally stays open for business for 24 hours. After closing time, while the staff inside is busily preparing the next day’s pastries, the hidden back door is unlocked and those in the know can venture inside and get the previous day’s giant scrumptious sweets for 1 Euro each. I had something that Johanna referred to as a “crema” but all I know is that it was a sticky sweet flattened croissant. Mmm. After we finished licking our fingers we snuck back out the door marked “Shhh... Please be Quiet” and headed back home in the rain, passing the bars we had been to on the way. We were lamenting the loss of our umbrellas when I spotted a rose salesman walking toward us who looked slightly ridiculous with his unmistakably feminine teal, brown, and white polka dotted umbrella. I alerted the other two and we marched forward angrily. Johanna went right up to him, seized the umbrella handle and informed him: “Excuse me, THIS is OURS!” He knew he was in trouble because he let Dana’s umbrella go immediately and started hurrying away, with Johanna incredulously reprimanding him from behind: “Why did you take it?!” We never found Johanna’s umbrella, but we were all pleased to share Dana’s on the way home, and we collapsed into hysterics every time we replayed the encounter in our heads.<br />On Thursday morning Dana and Johanna took me across the river to the Pitti Palace, where the Medicis used to live. I paid an ungodly 10 Euro to gain entrance to the Boboli Gardens surrounding the palace, but they were enormous and breathtaking so I guess I got my money’s worth.<br /></span><br /><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdRjU7hYYCUQ3aaVmfCDWqXdCcwu6brtk3HMTidDZKcpZLrmlGnRC8LOr-_SONvc9PbA5CZxWcno5ArGTnqjLyqTW41ckNFxPyMGuQU1c6sQj676WnzcBlpYm-0eG5HdOsR26ItXJo69I/s1600-h/Italy+120.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335483010815044018" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9zT307OXfCllKD5OcUERD1UinO4JpGyGm4iA9vuvIbn0nMPLyXclrCOhrN4yalxIWoVqAzuv-ZGyFaOlJQd9ipu8ODE3IItFCAqFIkd2y5yT4uLwbONssjzSoL2LI54GbCFsqjPkn30c/s320/Italy+088.jpg" /></a></p><p><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335483004255143906" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtuHs9Rwi4VCTNVcfuv9QQpRUYZCM3LQX8p_LCIgdAdlCFDH3S8VeIVE1y1QwP9UNsUv-NwbLri4bdZ8ms1VzD-B2eEHDRsxrgOOk19opTSFpu23lecgX_I-zMdTn-d3L7weog42FRV9E/s320/Italy+084.jpg" /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">We had nice views of the city of Florence and it was a lovely warm day – I was actually sweating! We also saw the costume museum where they showcased the actual clothing that members of the Medici family were buried in. Weird. When we were done walking around we walked along the street in front of the Pitti Palace and found a cute little nameless cafe to get lunch from. The lady was super nice and I got a pepperoni (which in Italy is “spicy salami”), tomato, and arugula panini drizzled with a little olive oil. We went and ate our sandwiches on the pavement in front of the palace and just enjoyed the sunshine. Dana had class and Johanna and I were going to go to the train station to pick up Flor when her bus arrived, so we got some gelato from the same cafe and ate it on the Ponte Vecchio before it was time to go. We waited for what seemed like forever next to the bus stop at the train station and finally Flor arrived in Florence!<br /></span></p><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335483015324962626" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdRjU7hYYCUQ3aaVmfCDWqXdCcwu6brtk3HMTidDZKcpZLrmlGnRC8LOr-_SONvc9PbA5CZxWcno5ArGTnqjLyqTW41ckNFxPyMGuQU1c6sQj676WnzcBlpYm-0eG5HdOsR26ItXJo69I/s320/Italy+120.jpg" /></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">We were her quintessentially crazy friends – me with my camera and Johanna with her sign, and both of us jumping up and down and waving – and it was wonderful to be reunited again! We brought Flor to Pronscola 9 and she settled in, and after Dana got back we all went out to dinner at their favorite pizza place, Gusta Pizza. The pizza they served there was similar to Pizza Express, but it tasted absolutely incredible because everything was made fresh right in front of us, including the dough! They only had 5 or 6 choices of pizza and they were only 5 or 6 Euro each. We sat on chairs pulled up to glass-table-top-covered barrels, and I really enjoyed my margherita pizza. Since Johanna and Dana are regulars, they had heard that the chefs there also made a special dessert pizza – a pizza dough topped with nutella and sprinkled with powdered sugar. It was a great end to the meal, and when we went up to pay, he gave us the dessert pizza for free! Molto grazie!! On the way back home, we stopped at a liquor store that Dana had found, and bought some peach vodka for the following night when we were going out to a discothèque. The owner gave us a free bottle of white wine with our purchase, and as we were walking out, he also gave us free lollipops! It was a night of freebies! It had been a long day full of excitement and good food and friendship and I was exhausted. We headed back to Pronscola 9 for the night and fell asleep.<br />I think I’ll close this chapter of my Italy story for now. I still have to talk about Friday-Sunday in Florence and Sunday-Tuesday in Rome, not to mention the rest of my month of April and now the first two weeks of May... but I am also getting tired and I hope to write more in the morning.<br />Bueno notte.<br />Love, Amanda</span></div>Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14007997708103096676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2717597363702078304.post-79464050294134477502009-04-29T12:42:00.000-07:002009-05-07T14:31:42.993-07:00Day 111 – Short and unsatisfying<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I am truly awful at lying but I still manage to do it convincingly to you, blog. Maybe it’s because you don’t have a face, or maybe it’s because I just feel so far removed from my (three? four?) readers. But for some reason it’s possible for me to lie to you blatantly. Well, I do it with good intentions. I had so much time on my hands – of course I was going to update about Italy! I should have done it the following day.<br />Anyway, I’ve been feeling really kind of anxious these past few days. My time here is running out, I’m in the middle of exams, I’m making last minute travel plans, and my bank account is shriveling up faster than the Wicked Witch of the West in a water park. (Sorry if that was cheesy.) I feel like I’m losing control. Things are slipping out of my hands as I’m trying to hold on to them – minutes, memories, essays, and pound notes alike. It’s as though I’m trying to slow down, but everything is speeding up and surging ahead around me, and I’m just caught up in the stampede. We’re stampeding toward the end of this semester and being abroad, yes, towards the summer and home and family and sun and warmth and making money instead of spending it. I’m stampeding toward my 21st birthday. My sister is graduating high school and going to college. I’m going to be a senior. I’m going to be a SENIOR. I was just a senior in high school. They warned me it would fly, whoever they is, and I heeded their warnings. I savoured everything, I captured memories, I didn’t take experiences for granted. But I don’t want it to end. I’m ultimately stampeding towards the unknown. There’s a cliff up ahead that I’ll be parachuting off. It’s like a video game. I’ll have to parachute off and try to land on the ledges below that are marked “Employment” or “Grad School.” I’m on my first and last life though. And I don’t even know what to do with it.<br />I’m probably being overdramatic but that’s the way I’ve been feeling lately. Ever since that guy who started talking to me in the bar laughed and told me that being an English professor wasn’t a real job. Not that the opinion of a stranger should really matter to me – especially a Portuguese man who insults my life’s plan as his pick up line – but still. It makes me remember the hairdresser who, after engaging in the obligatory small talk with me, said “a professor? Why the heck would you wanna do that?” And I had no answer. Just because there’s nothing else. What else is there to do? What else could I be? What do I want? Where do I want to end up? What am I doing with my life?<br />Well this is overall a really emo and self-pity infested post but maybe I should just post it before I forget and/or get sidetracked. I will update about Italy, hopefully soon, maybe tomorrow, or maybe after my last two tests are done next week. And I will tell you about my goings on since Italy. But I will warn you in an attempt to be completely honest. The next 45 days are going to fly. And in my attempt to keep up with them, I may leave you behind.<br />Realistically/Idealistically conflictedly yours,<br />Amanda</span>Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14007997708103096676noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2717597363702078304.post-57690574918674792812009-04-09T20:08:00.000-07:002009-04-13T09:30:54.507-07:00Day 90 – The Sparknotes version of my March 2009<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Wow. I cannot believe it has been over a month since I updated. Fourty days and fourty nights – maybe I can excuse my lack of posts by saying that I gave up blogging for Lent?? Time is flying by – I can’t believe I am a week into April already! And I am very sorry that I havent been keeping up with my blogging. Between traveling, fleeting romances, and coursework, March flew by and every time I started to update, something else would capture my attention before I could devote enough time for an entry. “Update Blog” has been on my dry-erase to-do list for a month now and far too much has happened for me to put it off any longer. Even if I am sitting here until 6am, I will update you on my life. Perhaps it won’t be as detailed as previous entries have been (I’m sure you are thankful for that) but I will do my best to summarize the goings-on that have taken me away from blogging.<br /><br />Let’s see... where to begin... The first week of March I was concerned about preparing for my Paris trip March 6-8 and thus had to find a camera since mine had broken at Fabric the week before. I ended up settling on going to Paris without a working flash and my parents bought one in the States and sent it to me after the trip, since it wasn’t worth it to buy a new one for the prices they were being sold here in the UK. I also went to see Hairspray with the Social Programme, which was really good and really funny! Although I think I like the movie better. I also met up with a guy and went out for some drinks. We really hit it off and ended up wandering the streets of London for a while, and I had a lot of fun.<br />On Friday March 6, Joy, Hayley and I ventured to Paris! Joy and I were rooming together, and we ended up hanging out with Hayley’s roommate the whole trip too, who was ironically enough also named Hayley, an Australian studying abroad. We took the Eurostar into Garre de Nord and then got on a coach for a sightseeing tour with out Paris tour guide Laurent, or “Larry from Pari” haha. He was an excellent tour guide, and in our first hours in Paris we got to see Place de la Concord, </span><br /><br /><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQM28QutYn3U4G2sPMREpHLaUw-8ON2IZqEqZADrYT6aBUTsVIycp-eKQd9QuVttpjgZJm34EQ0PnX8juo5YslwkSA3-wjcTVGQIqqd_VH_H1XHK2Xwm8FJSLCP_wUtsrPy1p4hzjjl-o/s1600-h/Paris+035.jpg"></div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322896065376164786" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQM28QutYn3U4G2sPMREpHLaUw-8ON2IZqEqZADrYT6aBUTsVIycp-eKQd9QuVttpjgZJm34EQ0PnX8juo5YslwkSA3-wjcTVGQIqqd_VH_H1XHK2Xwm8FJSLCP_wUtsrPy1p4hzjjl-o/s320/Paris+035.jpg" /></a><br />Champs-Elysees and Arc de Triomphe,<br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322896071201964594" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwf8tB7AELrjBSqwiNuaqvqd4uF7_Ii2Bm3BiMjwhJteqO2JMGNqifR9_xapTJHb2as-xuONeDG_TiamDt-Ik_G6WY_c_ZkWx-XLuqLmfajgnd9NgfSpcT3mCskArwtgR1j6upKw0v348/s320/Paris+037.jpg" /><br />Eiffel Tower, </span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /><div><div><div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM7p-AZDccWZUOtoj2teK6t5Pbl9uaE3mE6Vnmg78j-iiQIQ2N6qWUlgbcx4hLCvw6QcVFy9O87qTfmOfySm9MDApJyzDTKp2VvfGTOanxFBqbkPO0yM0S2m1gpeoKY5qsr4sJ1ylya5U/s1600-h/Paris+054mod.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 222px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322896076345924962" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM7p-AZDccWZUOtoj2teK6t5Pbl9uaE3mE6Vnmg78j-iiQIQ2N6qWUlgbcx4hLCvw6QcVFy9O87qTfmOfySm9MDApJyzDTKp2VvfGTOanxFBqbkPO0yM0S2m1gpeoKY5qsr4sJ1ylya5U/s320/Paris+054mod.jpg" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4Kzsl6gE7QjQinn12ULbZ32htyFgbZrsUVU8CRf8A4oKRcm_b8YsDoQ4uxsN3y_vsA8ayUMXNxUZ0I0krsOP_-OkPd-2CMcDTktvYyvWuJEp0W48p1c2MPP6hz-UHdNbd43GgQLoM2BQ/s1600-h/Paris+061.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322896074325259234" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4Kzsl6gE7QjQinn12ULbZ32htyFgbZrsUVU8CRf8A4oKRcm_b8YsDoQ4uxsN3y_vsA8ayUMXNxUZ0I0krsOP_-OkPd-2CMcDTktvYyvWuJEp0W48p1c2MPP6hz-UHdNbd43GgQLoM2BQ/s320/Paris+061.jpg" /></a><br /><br />Les Invalides (where Napolean is buried),<br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322896082515777170" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2rrHQ-v3O8UTnseLXpIi0Fakxq1Qf3TZnN6kDogvxkyTflEyVx4bLzqUnFeR_jmTm_S598LL2vZwtrnbtLEXh5QZdztR8-l0sVB9L8dsbvIrlLNR1UGTj8jd5Ro0Qzy0wwPRD2ke7E88/s320/Paris+070.jpg" /><br />the Louvre,<br /><br /></div><div><div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMWy5K9tO5RsLXb1Tv0qHCibEKX_FinPFwMG9nBUsL_yspylTP4IR1AldkezJC1Fy8cuY9E9oTrQhl4TQNxUdF3kIBrn_ZoAdUDc7_lpiUgeRy553nTeXX1iUPc335GCipZNrqTdP0ceE/s1600-h/Paris+117.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322897476654948770" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMWy5K9tO5RsLXb1Tv0qHCibEKX_FinPFwMG9nBUsL_yspylTP4IR1AldkezJC1Fy8cuY9E9oTrQhl4TQNxUdF3kIBrn_ZoAdUDc7_lpiUgeRy553nTeXX1iUPc335GCipZNrqTdP0ceE/s320/Paris+117.jpg" /></a><br /><div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzX6T82ibURd4wDvoGRHqwcVrCZrtTfCspDWy6tNgdBSTk4YO8zUjSRU0YhUai3gDtY3zPmkkWANbNf8orjcquqOwvXd-c_u1n1uLr0nHDlH4umClic1dTEdsvXB73IhfOvVHaad9zCXs/s1600-h/Paris+122.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322897467106718594" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzX6T82ibURd4wDvoGRHqwcVrCZrtTfCspDWy6tNgdBSTk4YO8zUjSRU0YhUai3gDtY3zPmkkWANbNf8orjcquqOwvXd-c_u1n1uLr0nHDlH4umClic1dTEdsvXB73IhfOvVHaad9zCXs/s320/Paris+122.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div>and the Bastille (which our hotel was near). </div><div><br /> </div></div></div></div></div><div></div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322897471633162802" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJhYwy37WlzIDH3wjBYwldpgrJa0a8GhO3i30ZfYQ4oUg_OtjklyEO_50kPM8FtN086d7KG0bVpHGET-rupABT__SELDDqA8G6Ipj9l6a5HhaFcyb9VcxtUIFwBkCz3smHghQoo6xYAAs/s320/Paris+145.jpg" /><br /><div>After settling into our rooms, the four of us went exploring, armed with maps and snippets of half-remembered high school French. We headed to the Louvre, which turned out to be a very long walk, and I got a toasted brioche and nutella sandwich on the way – I ate more nutella that weekend than I have in my whole life I think, but it is so delicious! It’s like a food group there! Laurent had told us that the Louvre was free on Friday nights after 6pm for under 26 year olds, so we were able to go in and follow the mass exodus of people to the Mona Lisa and then to the Venus de Milo. Photography was surprisingly allowed, and we saw a lot of other art in between, including Winged Victory, but we were tired from our long day and all of it started to blur together. The Mona Lisa was such a small little frame on a huge wall, and the room it was in was full of other artwork that was somehow deemed less worthy of viewing. Everyone was clamoring into the roped queue to snap a picture of her, to prove that they had seen her. But everyone’s seen the Mona Lisa a million times – she’s everywhere! – and she doesn’t look any different in person. It was the same with the Rosetta Stone – no one was really taking the time to appreciate the piece, they were just pointing and snapping to prove they were there. I know I am guilty of it too, but it just seemed so...superficial.<br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322897478445940386" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPrGid2PCyz0uUzL9sWua2ANjRLdYF9uu63bLA5AbqCkj4SnvYAp4g2yVZZ7WBfRxuumH6ljHsbVZyZTsnrsAEE7keEcq-SrhVB0RaBKNxWMoIS9Np0TthkZ8G4tvVVb5EAdANz-md0Mk/s320/Paris+131.jpg" /><br />This is a picture of the crowd of people taking pictures of the Mona Lisa, reminiscent of that scene in The Sixth Sense when all of the parents in the audience of the school play put up their video cameras to film it. For the record, she is smiling. We went to the Latin Quarter for dinner and then headed back to the hotel to collapse into our pillows. (The beds were exceptionally comfortable and I slept like a rock.)<br />Saturday we woke up and went to breakfast, which was included in the hotel stay. They had a plethora of croissants, fruits, breads and of course, nutella, so we stocked up and wrapped food in napkins to bring with us for lunch. We began our walking tour of Marais, and we got to see a lot of very old buildings in the neighborhood our hotel was a part of.<br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322897483130254290" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoWMaIbyze2HPQaUlGblySR_cJCOiVXV6hVEx623jjwYw9s7i1KmICcdP3q9xu6ygVaChFkp93wRut4N7Q3R9eJS9Cyp1f3e3HxK_Zor2b-9-gueXmUtv5nRS_HGN5ZfYKD-pRFR-IVaY/s320/Paris+183.jpg" /><br />The tour ended at Notre Dame, and we were able to go in for free.<br /><div><div><br /><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322898791062544642" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8O5qboQgFtYo6dOPbX4NB8MLiTLWL5VHXg-gi7bcQGEZgA_lB1m9wlt1KkWE6fgAlb6EztQFV4LmK1pzCSn_P1bbz9Hz7wzflNMwEx2KzaB4fNQj_mvZlk7j9sJIWQcFbgLHphfAJPaA/s320/Paris+233.jpg" /><br /><div></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6rsQxm_HOlyYsOOZv_IBp1HO9bmLlQja94zdX3CeKL4sm8Nazn_lduH4j5M82Tsufldxp0YqcNONGc2fRpTZQuqXkw0Vx9JSDRkHZP6lmUjWue_dCKVmkDzRRclwYAs2_M5KWC7bPQO0/s1600-h/Paris+198.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322898776677639554" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6rsQxm_HOlyYsOOZv_IBp1HO9bmLlQja94zdX3CeKL4sm8Nazn_lduH4j5M82Tsufldxp0YqcNONGc2fRpTZQuqXkw0Vx9JSDRkHZP6lmUjWue_dCKVmkDzRRclwYAs2_M5KWC7bPQO0/s320/Paris+198.jpg" /></a> </div><div><div></div><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322898780564855906" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJn0Y8o8tPAbdfYTmQbqeWYqS8Jisc4vm_XG9KpNBFzWK2AVWusG95hqvuSLB0k1unUBiD94RDXo8UAr6NJaVmOp1tLe-oiGhUCEJqskm_UvMwjhg04BLWPDucbHqHOTp2OG4K_SmkXYU/s320/Paris+216.jpg" /><br /><div>For the most part the atmosphere inside was reverent, but there was a service going on despite the tourists walking around the perimeter of the church, and the sanctity was somewhat compromised by souvenir stands and Press-A-Penny machines in the church. It was still amazing to be inside the cathedral, and I was in awe of the rose windows.<br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322898786608446482" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQgnBA7-4Exg5FRzEMMGQTUvEwqSx-utOE3epL9WqH1v_JYuMocykH1gWsC7qhQtMWQAfzzDP4S5rhi9TFK74n9FgKOS1qkp87KDlmwntvb9wJbVQE8-ZvaN3NAd2NHINPAGdqsXhtYjY/s320/Paris+203.jpg" /><br />They are made of the original stained glass, which was carefully numbered and taken down during World War II so that it wouldn’t get damaged. We did some souvenir shopping on the street next to Notre Dame and ate lunch in the gardens behind it, near the flying buttresses.</div></div><br /><br /><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322898795373723538" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuVYSP5VdKWjudFSG6O3aiRwWD4e2cebVl_NK0hLDK8YV63yhlBInhHUFcr5LFO6pJofY-fhjWYNvysVuiqi0254G-lKTXt2vIaAX3f_jP2IbWjUjUyezerN6bZxxliXxHMbrOU4O6u0M/s320/Paris+222.jpg" /></div><br /><div>I really think “The Flying Buttresses” would be a great name for a band. Then we took the Metro to the Eiffel Tower, and went up to “Le deuxieme etage” or the second level.<br /><br /><div><div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw-MVmeu3PynJRnWNA5u1fxBQa1gtZIXpSpJDlq6AwKNHOTUyieSzlaCCYn8fzsHQugb9mi9iKzGdbdqptI5xDMB2tkIuhwfvfsnf8osTAjOjE3GHoGPLWpTXRY-vu5TaPzDHjA6jKUqg/s1600-h/Paris+289.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322899985003935634" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw-MVmeu3PynJRnWNA5u1fxBQa1gtZIXpSpJDlq6AwKNHOTUyieSzlaCCYn8fzsHQugb9mi9iKzGdbdqptI5xDMB2tkIuhwfvfsnf8osTAjOjE3GHoGPLWpTXRY-vu5TaPzDHjA6jKUqg/s320/Paris+289.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5cRuz9Gf5a_2UVTH3vOxZKb_038mlOo_cIupFVyOjaEPpxlaKe2mcC0_d5-GSj_Js0cJNtc2Es8jhvjAWmryyLB7A-eYjqPjiffO_TvY-9lBk6ZD-Zd-5s7HQTtOsKkfN013Zr2F1nOI/s1600-h/Paris+243.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322899981361090146" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5cRuz9Gf5a_2UVTH3vOxZKb_038mlOo_cIupFVyOjaEPpxlaKe2mcC0_d5-GSj_Js0cJNtc2Es8jhvjAWmryyLB7A-eYjqPjiffO_TvY-9lBk6ZD-Zd-5s7HQTtOsKkfN013Zr2F1nOI/s320/Paris+243.jpg" /></a><br />We could have gone up to the third level, at the very tippy-top of the tower, but the view from where we were was absolutely incredible and I was not very anxious to add more height.<br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322899988240803986" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvtH4g4XXSwJuyZqOdru42XFsHmWJ1dovVgzpohI89jO09_lCu5dQvQUHVYIDBa9Ulit7d34pqDERO6demLh9mVYCrGMct2Ex8CV1mAoBgPj5tVUSTvzq451LUl-MEPwe6X_6B8lUQVFM/s320/Paris+280.jpg" /><br />All of Paris was before us and its white buildings stretched as far as the eye could see. It will be even prettier when I go in May because the trees were not in bloom yet, and all of the park spaces were that dull brown-gray that large groups of bare trees always are. It was beautiful, though, and no pictures can really capture the view (although I tried valiantly to do so). Reluctantly, we came down from the Eiffel Tower and started walking towards the Arc de Triomphe (another very long walk) and when we got there we sat for a while watching the free-for-all traffic in the Place de l’Etoile surrounding the Arc, and then we walked down Les Champs-Elysees! </div><div><br /></div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322899990098584578" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgUDgJ-QfEYkpcycQOd7YY6Yqdzq1-406XmpqXjXVIDTbieAGvb5Y7a9KIVgXJu_EO3mLQN78FiiJ2AL5cSyDzG7NknrNecPeD0kMVQazdoav2avFLb5gfSjLe2KD9gh6zlugEw9wh16M/s320/Paris+294.jpg" /> </div><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322899995420076930" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbzQDPt61XwM56c-pfEDMMl1443RmW81tkgb-q1ZuXrSnxlNaRAvDL3O2Fu74bV5jxpfvm196NT52x9u918eXWEwL_-z-E470V82hgJdeRMNE96P59xVcMsyyk-LPPbVpZ58P8F-4pxTA/s320/Paris+296.jpg" /><br />I was humming the song the entire trip. It was actually kind of disappointing – there wasn’t that much good shopping down the street – lots of big names like Louis Vuitton (we went into the 5-story store that was there) but nothing I could really afford, and nothing that was really specifically French.<br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322900909250438498" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiln30VtEPiuPmXcNKVu8ew7qCWI31k1yEAk3rU38t-UeU7isls7_1WTWBORLWgM9_QYX7vVSnVaUsAjpaYLxGFek9xz5YVe_lqVvD2TATx7dZb7oqv_u9_3zZOR0Z8X7ZlWc02OwafuGQ/s320/Paris+299.jpg" /><br /><br />After that our shopping craving hadn’t really been fulfilled so we took the Metro to Les Galeries Lafayette – the biggest department store I have ever been in. It spanned both sides of the street – one building was the main building, and the other one was Les Galeries Lafayette Homme (men). It was the size of a mall and it was only one store! This is the ceiling.<br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322900913273622610" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPHknmYxBCkliG6yeeWTczFmYX9To9y5rs9OvXWrUwpH8cHO7eQHzsFYpnfYDSHqvDxZ_Y7boUhm1CsCDXULIzATaLv6kHN8b9YMKmfF7crlzEo7EUFswWmNhZo9rgTk1brePQdj8Ydi8/s320/Paris+301.jpg" /><br />It was all “tres cher” stuff there but I managed to find the cheap jewelry section and bought myself a chunky ring for 7 or 8 Euro. We were all pretty worn out and cranky after our long day, but we quickly felt rejuvenated after we ate at an Italian place – French Italian, perhaps Fritalian? (Starbucks commercial, anyone?) When we got back to the hotel after that we had every intention of going out, but we realized we were too tired to fathom getting dressed up and instead went on a hunt for cheap French wine (which tasted as expensive as it was) and talked before bed.<br />Sunday morning it was raining, but we still managed to check out the fresh market that was right outside our hotel, and we got fresh crepes and nutella – yummO! </div><div><br /><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322900915628361666" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW5rCHKrmN5iTnz5w-ZU81bmZiWOA1UAFMSWfa7Skf38lxk9b9h0JTG44QwxFwkXYYPDod1jS-9nXy_Qaq1jcq9yPp4sG8Wxyaec3ezLnNG9WxFb9pXJfHO_79kPE0n3eSnj8RSxqof94/s320/Paris+307.jpg" /><br />We got all of our luggage packed up and ready to take on the Eurostar back to London later that day, and then we took the tube to Montmarte and saw Moulin Rouge, which means red windmill, and explored the area. </div><div><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322900927001318690" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfWRYBywrVf6T1W6zDKz_06UmE0Tsi7oMUvbCrlq73_0Uil8Jh1ciFGHHhTVe44SmdefRmFphOtMF3IPlGTrUBGbbcLDGkkUzACKFp_Uu2AMr003OVWG0YFMIku73kuoDIkWbSu7e92T8/s320/Paris+308.jpg" /><br />Which was full of sex shops.<br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322900927447685458" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhohwVuIzneHKKi_bFLsHYMZmsQardtCKXaTAigMuuGOS5YOXdrPH_Bn-mn-dN4XVj1fbY947CB_EINst6AdsHHu-L2ctKGSfH4AnrTo0rGDKfrBkFpMf75vLlqSe8L_bIXPw5a0LX4iHI/s320/Paris+309.jpg" /><br />Then Laurent showed up and gave us a tour of the hill of Montmarte, which is a cute artistic area full of little cafes and aspiring artists. He took us winding our way up the hill, and on the way I saw where Van Gogh and Picasso lived, and we had a beautiful view overlooking Paris when we got to the top.<br /><br /><br /><div><div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRdloEg6xPOBwEPVn2nnOjvcTI4hNnAAb-fL3JFD3xkYLOQ6YzCSDnW4tnbS4LC8uUiN6m2VB9lpEeAPrI43I1DOdLd_FpDUaGrlCwykO4x636fGNkcB36bSkc87S21YkrBzFOdslnFPE/s1600-h/Paris+364.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322903743102203762" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRdloEg6xPOBwEPVn2nnOjvcTI4hNnAAb-fL3JFD3xkYLOQ6YzCSDnW4tnbS4LC8uUiN6m2VB9lpEeAPrI43I1DOdLd_FpDUaGrlCwykO4x636fGNkcB36bSkc87S21YkrBzFOdslnFPE/s320/Paris+364.jpg" /></a><br />The Sacre-Coeur was magnificent and the whole area was lovely.<br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322903748532143026" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFk0hWaUTBjFn2r5Vwb-WeQktm27lNWRKFYAJLLnGvkJfLRj4NCUdbrRiuu50OodQbaOnjfxMVE9a9sWbxFAVIfn7diHGccMrgYjRzBiuP9VtNJ6IBL_2JpM9qY8Sthf2qB7cWUka152s/s320/Paris+344.jpg" /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322903752017032738" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9fA7IoZBCQAkeJrfxhZfpMQdhp0FrZovKA7NfybyxXafoMXEdNt2YowQpGpUNbgdmDK_lhe-UjxC0jtnTvvhlqsJ62a82LxGfJ2cO0LhQuxmWyhnc1M0glTvKOy5AVlAYtOlRdzXBgk0/s320/Paris+369.jpg" /><br />We headed back to the hotel, and I got my last pain au chocolat before we headed back to London. It was so nice to be back, even though it had only been 3 days, and I really felt that I could call London home. Getting back to Baker St. felt like coming back home. It’s a nice feeling.<br /><br />After the Paris trip, my thoughts were preoccupied with the aforementioned budding romance, but after the magic of a second date, a first kiss, and a night out together faded, it became clear that the fairytale was nothing more than a fling. It was fun for a while, but quickly became forced and wasn’t enjoyable for either of us. I don’t regret it at all, because it was a good learning experience, but it is kind of sad that something that seemed to have so much potential has amounted to little more than a wince and small smile at a memory for me. But life goes on, and the whole experience really made me think about my relationships, and to appreciate what I have with Richard. I had been ignoring how much I missed him, a self-protection method surely, but I realized how much he meant to me and how it wasn’t worth losing him because of the distance. I really can’t wait to see him again and I am looking forward to next year at Marist. Speaking of next year at Marist, I chose the classes for my second-to-last semester of undergrad! Since NOT getting into these classes is not an option if I want to graduate on time, I’m just going to assume that I have them all: Honors Edith Wharton, Honors Ethics, English Capping, Abstract Algebra, and Probability/Statistics. Blagh. Another rough fall semester, coming right up! But it will be good because if all goes according to plan (::crosses fingers::) we will be living in Lower Fulton with Jess Link and Lauren, and Valerie is also staying an extra semester as well! So it will be 518 + Jess and Lauren, which will be super fun and I am so excited for it!<br /><br />Anyway, what else happened in March?? It was my sister Christina’s 15th birthday (ahh I feel so old!) and I sent her a purse I had gotten her in Paris. I wanted to be there but she and Jessica were busy because it was the week of the high school’s musical (sans Zac Efron). I really miss my family (and my cats!!).<br />We took our final Social Programme trip to York and the North of England, and I was away from the city for the first time since January! It was lovely to explore York (which included climbing a 275-step spiral staircase to the top of York Minster Cathedral) and to be in the countryside. This is York Minster.<br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322903757551283858" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSuFQVFfWMyvvNG3hf_cu52HBdZSzEMovYxog-To3mM2f_lY4osUdlVqNEpITUkfnkVzWDGkSxvsR-Bl1a1oEtxjEl3wdMar_0uy59vAudBivuSkETEupSMAtMztb8Ris4YBta0bqnAZM/s320/York+032.jpg" /><br />Fountains Abbey was gorgeous and we had beautiful weather – we could even walk around without our jackets! </div><div></div><div><br /></div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322903761245540178" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV1f50Orja-26VZISBXLw0Eg_GlcojZR_wDdaQQEBOs5pQmXzsCeMJpwXgTz77dcl5HXBrqEVd07jFtUWNQJ9HDsCjfVNX9TPiaml_VvILNwt0xvOmqXxk5sIY4mm90gxcT0k1n1ralV4/s320/York+141.jpg" /> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8URqLP2ZlYE1LQSRBmHFsGBv2qudrsWLcZWWSRLxBPq0c-Fs9UO3ne3k6PVJdgyj1NjmQN9WpZ-VYPXE_pl7sM5j3goNb9lcwfCliM7_0H2fFgsoHtBNILHv71M06o9va-2urSWPnkXg/s1600-h/York+118.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322904645583270674" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8URqLP2ZlYE1LQSRBmHFsGBv2qudrsWLcZWWSRLxBPq0c-Fs9UO3ne3k6PVJdgyj1NjmQN9WpZ-VYPXE_pl7sM5j3goNb9lcwfCliM7_0H2fFgsoHtBNILHv71M06o9va-2urSWPnkXg/s320/York+118.jpg" /></a><br />We finished the trip in Haworth, where the Bronte sisters lived, and Joy and I had delicious cream tea before the long coach ride back to London. </div><div><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322904647404227474" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi56IL7NRcdMnPBI32o08wMb0xqNuZMMaCyCUV-5u9zkdX4ymmjDdR5shBSabghQxC8CHiOO2ex8RR5sVGWMIHX7IFM-LzRQ9FJAhSL8ga9PgisrxRivH2NyaCOD20D9RL7ZtqKo6JTG6w/s320/York+179.jpg" /></div></div><div><div></div><div></div><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322904653979924738" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZDCndVfpJh88WYcBS1e-hDgXleI0-SE9lSeG1uaE7jgL71vCBzAhnMS-Qgt4RQzKzteuO5M2if5zeJ24G6lccBu-wSIOD8mX4xzm1P7BUW9w2QFD8e_vRafbmLhqLPPdW6I9S_4CnKf4/s320/York+183.jpg" /><br /><br />St. Patrick’s Day was fun! I proudly put on my bright green shirt and green converse and refrained from painting shamrocks on my cheeks before I went to class, and it’s a good thing because NO ONE else was wearing green!! The only other people I saw wearing green were other Americans in my classes. I guess it’s not that big of a deal here. Thankfully when Hayley, Joy, Verity, and I went out to O’Neill’s that night, everyone was wearing green. We waited a long time in line but we met two Irish guys while we were waiting. They were from Belfast and I could have listened to them talk forever. We ended up seeing them again when we were inside and I danced the night away with them. They were playing an odd mix of hip hop, techno, and fiddle, and every so often a traditional Irish song would come on and everyone would stop grinding and jig. It was pretty amazing and I had so much fun. The highlight of my night was probably when a creepy guy came over and put his hand on the back of my neck and said “You’re from New Jersey, right?” (he must have overheard me in line since he was behind the Irish guys) and I mouthed the word “H-E-L-P” to my friends and Verity said “Excuse me, that’s my girlfriend.” He looked mortified and apologized and left. Whew. Crisis averted.<br />Valerie came to visit London as well! She stayed with the other Marist kids at their flat and we all met up to go out for some drinks Friday night. Turns out they decided to go to the Hilton at Hyde Park, to the Penthouse Restaurant. We all were mortified at how fancy it was, and we ate lightly, buying the cheapest bottles of wine and having only one course of food each. We exceeded our expectations and disappointed the staff’s with our bill of £308. I had bread, water, one glass of white wine and half of a dessert featuring real edible gold and dark chocolate, and I managed to come in at only £15. I also opted not to spend £12.75 on a cocktail at the Penthouse Bar. It may have been expensive, but it was still fun. Then I hung out with Valerie and Mike on Sunday, and we went to high tea at Harrods, which was also expensive but fun and definitely worth it. They offered free refills of the finger sandwiches, scones, and pastries that came with our tea but we were so stuffed that we didn’t even need any. I discovered that I really like Jasmine Tea! I have never liked tea before in my life, but who knows?! Maybe breathing in the London air has done more than pollute my lungs – maybe the tea-loving atmosphere has finally gotten to me! In any case, the tea was definitely worth the £21, and we walked through Kensington Gardens and hung out at the FIE flat for a while before we headed to Brick Lane to get Indian for dinner. It was great to see Valerie and to hang out with the Marist kids (they leave so soon!!) but I had coursework on the brain since the following week was Week 10. I had two essays due, and despite struggling with the word limit (2300 words for a 1500 max paper) and the printers I managed to turn everything in on time. Hayley, Joy and I celebrated the end of classes with some Pizza Hut, but it was quite sad because Hayley is staying at home now, except for finals and of course visiting us. Hopefully we can go visit her too – an actual British house! And she has a million and a half pets, including a tortoise named Gerty! How cute! Rachel, Beth, Joy and I went out to eat at The Shakespeare pub near Victoria and it was really nice, but it was also kind of sad, since we were all going our separate directions. Rachel’s mom was coming to visit, Beth was going on a 3 week tour of Europe, Joy was going to Germany, and I was going to Italy. It was weird to say goodbye, but at least we still have two months (is that all?? ack!) before we have to say goodbye for real.<br /><br />Other March happenings? Joy and I booked our Ireland trip – June 4-7, right before we come back to the States! I am super excited though because there is a 3 day tour of the Southern countryside and County Kerry (my homeland!) that we will probably be able to squeeze in. Our flights only cost £5 each way (so naturally the total Ryanair bill came to £59) and we still need to book the buses to and from Stansted and our hostel there. Other than Paris May 16-19, (and Stonehenge/Bath at some point) that will be the only trip I have left to take.<br />My sister got into UPenn! We were waiting forever for all 10 colleges she applied to to make up their minds, but after being rejected and waitlisted and discouraged, she got in to her dream school! She is still deciding between that and BU but I am so proud of her and happy for her and I’m going to brag about her a lot. =)<br /><br />All right I think I have pretty much caught you up on March. I will post about my trip to Italy separately, but let’s just say that I had 697 pictures from the trip, so you can guarantee it will be a lengthy post.<br /><br />Well it only took me until 4am, or maybe 4:30 once I get the pictures in there. I guess now it is technically Day 91, but oh well. My time here is coming to a close, and I am digging my heels in as time drags me toward June 13. It’s not that I don’t want to go back, because I do and I miss everyone from home. But I just can’t imagine NOT being here. I’ve grown very attached to this city, and I do feel like it is my home now.<br /><br />Until soon,<br />Buena notte,<br />Amanda</span></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14007997708103096676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2717597363702078304.post-15467463714381733312009-02-28T16:10:00.000-08:002009-02-28T18:10:16.661-08:00Day 49 - Roller Discos, Animal Raves, and U2. You know, the usual.<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">So much has happened and I am getting so caught up in life here that I have not been very disciplined in doing this, and it’s a vicious cycle. I am busy, so I don’t update, and then when I have a chance to update I am overwhelmed at the amount I have to write, so I put it off. And when I put it off for a few days, I just add more things to my growing list of things I have to write about. And I want to write even less. But alas, here I am. It is a light homework weekend since I only have reading to do – the next written coursework is due the final week of March, which is also the final week of classes. I feel like I have so much left to see and do before June so I am attempting to pack my schedule pretty full and not waste a day, but at the same time my schedule-packing is making time go by faster and I am trying to savour it. Yes British spelling. I’m embracing everything Britishly linguistic after getting told off by my cute-but-probably-gay PhD student lecturer in Word/Sentence Structure for sounding “very American” and speaking in “the American dialect.” Don’t worry, I gave him a hard time about it (he was trying to tell me that “They really tried hard” and “They tried really hard” were semantically the same) but I realize that fully experiencing England includes the language and I pick up little nuances every day and of course can’t remember enough of them to record in here.<br /><br />Anyway let’s go through the highlights of the past 12 days. I’ll try to keep it limited to the highlights or I will have a novel. I left off two Mondays ago when I was about to go make ziti for Joy and Hayley and they liked it so much that we decided to make dinner together every Monday night, and we would each pick a different dish to make. Joy made breaded chicken this past Monday (and btw breadcrumbs are different here! They’re literally crumbs of bread, not evenly crushed and with no spices on them at all. They are crunchy and chunky so we ended up adding our own spices and trying to crush them further but they still didn’t work as well. We’ll have to crush them up thoroughly before using them in any other recipes.) But I’m getting ahead of myself.<br /><br />Tuesday my Third World Studies professor decided that the projects would be individual and not group-based in the least, after all that stressing. Thanks. And I wanted to get it over with so I volunteered to go the following week. I don’t think anything else eventful happened that day.<br /><br />Wednesday (Feb 18th so you can get your bearings) we had the Shakespeare walking tour at 6pm so I missed my night class (yay!) and we met at Blackfriar’s Tube Station (which as of this coming Monday will be closed for 2 years for construction work!) and as Joy and I were walking to meet our tour group, we saw none other than Jess Durante and Mike Takach, who were with their Shakespeare class going on a tour by their Shakespeare professor! I hadn’t seen them since the first day I was here so it was weird but at the same time completely familiar to see them, and it was so funny that we were both doing Shakespeare tours the same night! I told them I’d see them at the Globe with a laugh and left to find our tour guide. The first thing he said to us was “I hope none of you are too disappointed, but we won’t be seeing the Globe tonight. I’ve learned not to include it on my tours because everyone usually goes to see it on their own anyway.” Well let me tell you, buddy, I was disappointed! And so was my aunt who had wanted souvenirs and pictures to show her high school literature class! Ugh. Yet another thing to put on my to-do-before-I-leave list. The tour was decent but nothing very exciting; he did bring us to parts of London that we probably wouldn’t have found on our own, but he mostly pointed to buildings and said “this major Shakespearean landmark used to be here” and then speed-walked to the next site, snapping at us when we were too snap-happy with our cameras. But oh well. I did walk down the road that Shakespeare lived on...</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308008241642732706" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 324px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWufUYdxApNzw1BcAspd0XyRrJdNvuqI8cHFaAGswMP6wJ5uzJXEejS-IOUU17TTDEGT7KAUfw2h-RTPWJCD6T0KbzNCHZ8SxLm4wdtYSXSNGOFQxt6ssTiRP0vBzNWQAGBtIQ-vaF0uM/s320/London+338.jpg" border="0" /></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">...and I got to see the birthplace of Milton...</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308008250692494962" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ4Lu4f6rSvk9XOBpNwZdh12fzyz3qkPbn3bM9p7hWSdMQUtqf6gP-tcuswdCwDlILj0cUMBTFJ6BdNevECibl68yQOwOLNrPtaYCz0sdEHxEPpinq8PfI2GWThJLGAzgDspF1oTUEYn4/s320/London+353.jpg" border="0" /></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">...as well as the fragments of the wall that was originally built around London when the Romans ruled in the early ADs (If I remember History of the English Language correctly, sometime before about 700 AD, but I could be wrong).</span><br /><br /><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308008255075949570" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5syssD-JWRXX4Ix78S-eAvVKM6ohU2KnQEGCcYDvgk8juqUenv5_k-MeYmDVj2-xRsUC_BjnKmNVBzqgJojYKZMlfhqaLOGCdHCGomg3sxD2q5u4ClxvdS3z3P__E3W5Kkl974hmCcjI/s320/London+359mod.jpg" border="0" /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">(statue of Shakespeare above the graves of Heminge and Condell who published/performed most of his works)</span></div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><div><div></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_A7lPnO1tmYkzhfcouUrTcbVOj3_UrQUGx-cwYYnOirErNyoqajre50coOJtZK56KiQaQsIca6GsJZ8C8PldLJQ5779hH9qrivLJhcNizBmaXLOBktH56ULFflV05EtSZJOeFJh9Vz6g/s1600-h/London+344.jpg"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308008244676283826" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_A7lPnO1tmYkzhfcouUrTcbVOj3_UrQUGx-cwYYnOirErNyoqajre50coOJtZK56KiQaQsIca6GsJZ8C8PldLJQ5779hH9qrivLJhcNizBmaXLOBktH56ULFflV05EtSZJOeFJh9Vz6g/s320/London+344.jpg" border="0" /></span></a></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">(totem pole of heads inspired by Shakespeare's "All the world's a stage..." speech)<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Thursday I went to my class, stopped at Mortimer’s on the way back with Christy and Megan and got a delicious pain au chocolat – chocolate croissants are sooo delicious and I could probably eat them any time of the day. Then Joy, Hayley and I did a Primark run since later that night, we would be going to an 80s Roller Disco. Yes. As in an 80s theme club with alcoholic beverages, disco music, and roller skating. In case you don’t know, the last time I went roller skating was when I was 10 years old. In Fredericksburg, Virginia, for my 5th grade skating social. With the help of some friends – Paul Loehr I distinctly remember – I had strapped my roller blades on and had gotten out on the rink after practicing (and falling, and crawling) on the carpet. I had successfully made it to the far side of the rink, football-field-sized in my memory, inching my way along the handrail, when they called for everyone to clear the rink for the hokey-pokey or some equally-dangerous game. I panicked but managed to inch my way all the way around to the exit without getting in trouble. That is an infamously negative day in my head for various reasons – it’s the day we found out we were moving to New Jersey, and it’s the day my mom’s arthritis took a turn for the worse – so I don’t associate skating with anything remotely fun. But Hayley and Joy were excited about it so I decided to step outside my comfort zone and embrace something that I blatantly wasn’t good at. Dressing in 80s gear is always fun though, and we went all out, complete with matching pink legwarmers from Primark and coloured tights. I also sported some killer purple glitter eye liner. We were a sight to be seen.<br /><br /></div></div><div><div><div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwvI0prDZ5pqOhY500Iqk8EXf2Qi_gh4ylowK0S9nbCaPpTKEXiKgilIeFiIFv12HuT34pNGh6qnqcVg3uh9TVPstmErzlN5UFgziPHIb3qtyCM4oEXLaWMA6YNbxVBB1BDVAEXxCKG4Y/s1600-h/London+378mod.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308008253789492274" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwvI0prDZ5pqOhY500Iqk8EXf2Qi_gh4ylowK0S9nbCaPpTKEXiKgilIeFiIFv12HuT34pNGh6qnqcVg3uh9TVPstmErzlN5UFgziPHIb3qtyCM4oEXLaWMA6YNbxVBB1BDVAEXxCKG4Y/s320/London+378mod.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />We got off the tube (yes, we attracted plenty of stares) at Vauxhall where the Roller Disco was nearby, but to our dismay, no one in sight was sharing our enthusiasm for retro fashion faux-pas. A guy came up to us on the escalator and asked us if we were going to the roller disco, and after jokingly replying, as if offended, “What makes you think that?!” we learned that he was going there as well, albeit not in 80s gear, for his friends 21st birthday, but that he didn’t have directions from the tube station to the actual address. He accompanied us as we got lost despite having written the route down, and we eventually found the place, which we’ve since seen in the daylight, and it is a dump wedged underneath a railroad bridge. At night, though, it is transformed into a roller rink time machine. Joy and Hayley insisted that they were awful skaters but let me tell you, they had NOTHING on me. I took about 20 laps with the instructor next to me, who came to my aid the second I stepped (rolled uncontrollably?) onto the rink, and he taught me to bend my knees, point my feet outwards at angles, and to step gently left right left right left right. Doesn’t sound too hard but I guess I am very lacking in the coordination department because I really couldn’t get it. I kept at it though because I didn’t want to give up and could actually get around without holding on or losing my balance by the end. There were people there for whom skates seemed equivalent to sneakers though, because they were out there doing tricks and busting moves to the music like it was nobody’s business. After I semi-got the hang of it, I had a lot of fun, and if I kept practicing I would get better. I did fall once, and even today I can feel my bruised tailbone. A guy offered his hand to help me up and proceeded to have a conversation with me despite my awkward physical position and obvious painful tailbone shock which ended in him asking for my number. I’m not sure what my facial expression was (confused? annoyed? incredulous?) but I replied no thanks. Who knew that 80s Roller Discos were places to pick girls up (literally!)? </div><div><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308009792359539186" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid0gmPB69IXTc2KHNjZOPQZWgWjCGYRi9InBlfuuN9PHdgTDAJFs_0EymQqmTaqdF2vWOxf0e7qBju_HrfC1vUizp5G9PohF18yU1HX626fxuTeR8pgqV9ljGuuTBYnX_4bjkbouHIaBQ/s320/London+394mod.jpg" border="0" />(me and an instructor)</div><div><br />Friday I didn’t do much. I lazed around, did some homework and some research for my swiftly approaching presentation for which my topic was now Neoliberalism’s Effects on Latin American Education Systems and Literacy Rates. I applied (of course on the last possible day) for the NCHC Conference, my final one, which will be in D.C. this year! I submitted my thesis from research methods on Lolita, and hopefully Nabokov’s fancy prose style will seem interesting enough to the Student Interdisciplinary Research Panel judges, but just in case I submitted for poetry as well. As far as I know, Amy, Flor, and I are the only ones who submitted. I hate that our honors program is dying. But nevertheless it should be a fun trip – I can even see Joy while I’m there! We attempted to go see a movie on Friday, but it ended up being almost sold out and not discounted for students, so we decided just to grab a bite to eat and head back home instead, because we had an early call in the morning. I was grateful to save the money, and we ended up getting 99p McFlurries at McDonalds even though we didn’t know what the candies were. Smarties = M&Ms. Ironically enough.<br /><br />Saturday morning we checked out Portobello market in Notting Hill – and it was HUGE. Started out with antique stores and gradually moved into jewellery and accessories, which somehow transitioned into a full fledged farmer’s market. I got some produce – 14 plums for £1! It was definitely worth it to keep pushing through to the back of the market, because the prices got lower the farther you went. Still not entirely as cheap as I would like it, but pretty good. I would like to get another ring I think – something slightly chunky but that I can still wear everyday for a little extra pop. I’d definitely like to go back there in the future. We were worn out after it though – a long day, a long walk, and an INSANE amount of people really tired us out.<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisOu0ieQ3meAv-KZfs9mavqmIRucfONsuWnlFa7mj0NYXrmJv2qMYF2K7gWHqrLsK_S7OpJy3t_TerXpZPNRhEiE_q5I1rgdgS_OWjA5DamYpy2kWQXpGSJ5VmO3Yd5jb_y08PAleqQ6c/s1600-h/London+399.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308009106807035474" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisOu0ieQ3meAv-KZfs9mavqmIRucfONsuWnlFa7mj0NYXrmJv2qMYF2K7gWHqrLsK_S7OpJy3t_TerXpZPNRhEiE_q5I1rgdgS_OWjA5DamYpy2kWQXpGSJ5VmO3Yd5jb_y08PAleqQ6c/s320/London+399.jpg" border="0" /></a> (necklaces that were so bright in the sun that a bee actually came over and repeatedly landed on them trying to pollenate - kind of sad!)<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVXX8yBW3iOEC7PEMt_kLCZAWsrCxsUxLEVSqLRO_GviFIGigL8bQpsHkN1bpFb62Gl6OIm_hjfwADMD7FQPVzFFvr_yNu_TzyfcZ5kGgqMXpMosGQyi9rudiuQmtfHj7WcwCxNFFI0f0/s1600-h/London+398.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308009099884533362" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVXX8yBW3iOEC7PEMt_kLCZAWsrCxsUxLEVSqLRO_GviFIGigL8bQpsHkN1bpFb62Gl6OIm_hjfwADMD7FQPVzFFvr_yNu_TzyfcZ5kGgqMXpMosGQyi9rudiuQmtfHj7WcwCxNFFI0f0/s320/London+398.jpg" border="0" /></a> (shot of the market with all of the multicolored shops along Portobello Rd)</div><div><br />Sunday I went with Joy to see the Wallace Collection right off of Marylebone High St. She had to go for her Art & Society class project and I would never miss an opportunity to go to a free museum. We explored the Marylebone farmer’s market on the way there – small compared to Portobello, but much closer and more convenient, and I am a sucker for fresh bread and produce! It is only open on Sundays and closes at 2pm, but it is not half bad for a little local market. We saw the art museum, which was very nice, and I enjoyed the Rococo paintings that Joy’s project is on a lot. On the way back we stopped for some quick grocery shopping at Waitrose, where my £20-a-week grocery budget was wholly and completely destroyed. £32 and 2 grocery bags later, I left horrified at what I had just spent on the necessities and wanted to cry for the rest of the day. I hate spending money when I have no income. I was depressed about it for a good amount of this past week, but I just have to remember that I will earn the little I have back eventually and that it is okay to spend it because this is a once-in-a-lifetime experience and I don’t want to have regrets. ::sigh:: It still sucks though.<br /><br />Monday I worked on my presentation most of the day and managed to finish it up a little after midnight – pretty good for me – and we had a lovely dinner of breaded chicken cutlets and rice. And seeing as the smoke didn’t take too long to clear out of the kitchen, the fire alarm never went off, so I consider us lucky. Freaking “breadcrumbs.”<br /><br />Tuesday was Mardi Gras, which, I was stunned to learn, they don’t know about here, as well as National Pancake Day, which Hayley was stunned to learn I had never heard of. I was subsequently stunned to learn that it was apparently National Pancake Day in the U.S. as well, and IHOP was giving away free short stacks, because it was news to me. Maybe they just made it up this year. Regardless, I had pancakes to look forward to when I went to Third World Studies to give my presentation, which I thought went very well. Try to fit a presentation on a huge topic into 8 minutes and 5 slides – especially when I am such a big fan of talking. He approved my topic (and my topic was much less broad than that of the other three students who went) and was exasperatingly vague in his explanation of what we had to do – we had to demonstrate a theory’s pros and cons in a real life application – and yet when we had all gone, he criticized us for being too broad, not focusing our topic enough, and for taking too long in presenting. He actually interrupted my presentation when I was mid-second-to-last-sentence to tell me to watch my time – how rude! If I go over in my time, then deduct from my grade accordingly, but don’t interrupt me to tell me to hurry it up! I asked my classmate and he said mine didn’t seem longer than anyone else’s – I figure I might have done a 10-12 minute presentation tops, and 8 minutes is a ridiculous amount of time for an oral presentation anyway. It took me a minute just to say the title! Still waiting for the grade on that, which is 15% of my final grade. I have a report to do on the same subject that’s only 1500 words, and I already have about 750 from notes, which is due week 10, and other than that and the final I am done with that class. Yay!<br />For dinner that night we had pancakes. And the word pancakes should really be in quotation marks because they are not American pancakes. They are basically crepes. Very thin, watery batter that you put in the bottom of the pan and roll around until it coats the bottom. We made 3 each with the guidance of Hayley, and no, we did not coat them in butter and maple syrup – we topped them with a large scoop of Bailey’s Irish Cream Ice Cream and Dulce de Leche Chocolate Toffee flavoured syrup.<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308009108362015970" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQSuk2qGvFN9waJrSClE2mrQKUrB0LbXmhXLRtAO_mHWRg4gElfyBjwuOcwoyW2aAfVahI-scY6cwS1o6xkIZOCk-HocS3jp3uxmPQ5CrFPPh7GTVy81CgplDeLl-34wkdtjQ2Y6J2qXA/s320/London+418.jpg" border="0" /><br />In the words of Rachel Ray, Yum-O! Hayley told me that I had made my pancakes much thicker than she usually makes them. They were about 3 mm thick. Joy and I told her that we have to do les pancakes americains at some point. But it was fun to see this version of them!<br /><br />Wednesday I had class and then met Hayley and Joy at Oxford Circus because that night we were going to Fabric for an “Animal Rave!” Yeah I didn’t know what it was either. The flyer online said something about free face masks, face paint, a giant bouncy castle, chocolate covered bananas, glow sticks, snakes and ladders, all drinks for £2.40 with a student wristband, and a VIP room where you could get your picture taken with live boa constrictors wrapped around your body – but we were sold at the bouncy castle. We needed some alcohol so we went to the giant Sainsbury’s we had seen across from the 80s Roller Disco in Vauxhall. You’d be surprised what a difference a decent grocery store makes in your level of happiness. Tesco Express was disappointing, Sainsbury’s Local was manageable, Sainsbury’s Central was satisfactory, Waitrose was uplifting, and this gigantic Sainsbury’s was blissful. They had clothing as well, but it was mostly grocery store, and when I walked in I thought “Now THAT’S what I’m talkin bout!” and repeated that thought when we got to the alcohol section. The other grocery stores have a large wine selection but the hard liquor is usually limited to the basics and located behind the counter. We opted for Peach Schnapps for £5.65 and Lemonade (aka Sprite sans lime) for £1 and with that, we redefined the term “cheap drunk.” They also had a deli counter! Hallelujah! And I got some “thin sliced” roast beef that was sliced twice as thick as my pancakes had been. Oh New York. When we came back I had PB&J and a yogurt, and then read for the rest of the afternoon until it was time to go to my night class. I had a grilled cheese before class, at around 5:30pm, and then waited patiently through my aforementioned insulting linguistics class which was actually chock full of notes rather than awkward silences for once. I half-walked, half-skipped back to Marylebone after my class to get ready. Jess Durante was coming too, but Rachel and her friend weren’t able to make it, so it left our crowd to be me, Jess, Joy, Hayley, and Verity. The peach schnapps/lemonade combo was gorgeous and I couldn’t even taste the alcohol, which led to me drinking a good amount without even blinking, and unfortunately without recalling that I had only had a small amount to eat that day, which led to me becoming very very drunk happy. [I love you Mom! I’m sorry! Maybe you should just skip to Thursday afternoon right now!] After haphazardly grabbing everything I needed (oyster card, student ID card, drivers license, room key, money, phone, camera) and stuffing it in a wristlet we left, taking the tube to Farringdon. Thank god I wore flats.<br />When we got there (around 11:30), we couldn’t find a lot of the advertised stuff, but we, or at least I, was too drunk to care and we proceeded to get our dance on. We did see the giant bouncy castle, which we waited in the queue for, but while we were waiting they deflated it – apparently it was only open until 1:30. That didn’t phase us though, and I danced the night away, taking (mostly unflattering) pictures every 5 seconds. No guys danced with us, but we were having too much fun to think anything of it, and looking back at the pictures my facial expressions/dance moves might have been the reason behind that, but we had a great time dancing and it was a lot of fun! When we were leaving my heel got caught on the edge of the stair and I fell a little, landing hard on one knee, which also didn’t phase me. I sat there, shocked for a second, and Joy repeatedly asked me if I was okay. Sprawled on the staircase, I told her “Let’s not make a scene” and carried on my merry way. (Hence the title of the facebook album.) When I got back to my room I had some drunken aim conversations and caught up with some people I hadn’t spoken to in a while, and then went to bed around 4:30, setting my alarm for 8:30 since I had Modernism at 10.<br /><br />When I woke up Thursday morning, I quickly realized that I was in no shape to attend my class. Not only was I chronically nauseous (in vain, I’m afraid), but I hadn’t eaten in 15 hours and had consumed alcohol instead, so I was weak, dizzy, and my limbs were shaking. I drank lots of water, managed to swallow some crackers, and decided to sleep until I wasn’t nauseous anymore. Not fun. And I really like Modernism. Next time we go out I will make sure I eat plenty beforehand, or we will just have to avoid Wednesday nights. I didn’t do much of anything on Thursday, except attempting to feel better and getting some reading done.<br /><br />Friday I brought my camera (which had suffered almost as many injuries at Fabric as I had) to get repaired by a little shop near the British Museum, and then I walked around a lot for the rest of the afternoon. I walked around the Museum, up and down Tottenham Court Rd and Charing Cross Rd, went into some book shops, invested in a £2 copy of Moby Dick as well as a pocket-guidebook/mini-map of Paris, and headed up Regent St towards our campus. There was a rumour floating around that U2 was going to be showing up there between 6- 6:15, and when I got there a little after 5 there was already a crowd forming. Joy met me there and I had picked out a good spot on the steps of the church on Langham Place – U2 would be performing a surprise concert from the roof of the BBC building across the street! It got very crowded, and eventually they closed down Oxford Circus tube station as well as Regent St, letting the crowds fill the entire road. Finally by about 6:50 they decided to start playing, and it was unreal! There was the legendary Bono, complete with sunglasses, leaning over the railing of the BBC building roof and crooning undecipherable words to us as a helicopter swooped around overhead. And it was completely normal. This is London.<br />They played 4 songs – 2 that they had never played live before, from their newest album, as well as Vertigo and Beautiful Day, which we (kind of) knew the words to. I was freezing by the end because, after all, I had been outside nonstop since 3pm, and though it was a relatively warm day, my fleece was not appropriate for the after-sundown weather. Joy and I made a quick Tesco run before heading back, and I got some frozen fish and chips to make since it was the first Friday of lent. I gave up cookies btw! I had a lovely evening until there was a knock on my door. It was the girl who lives at the end of the hall, next to Hayley. I would have no problem with her except for the fact that she leaves the kitchen a wreck every time she uses it, doesn’t wash her dishes but just piles them up on the counter, complete with leftover bits of food in them, for 2 weeks at a time, leaves the oven/hob on, treats the kitchen garbage pail and its vicinity as her own personal dumpster, uses other people’s dishes if they are left out, and blasts her music (which I can hear loud and clear in my room, 4 rooms away) every morning at 8:30-9am. If you’d like the sparknotes version, she is rude. And she knocked on my door (with her boyfriend standing aggressively in the background) and asked me if I had used her pot.<br />Apparently on Wednesday night when I had retreated into typo-ridden AIM conversations, the other girls had returned to the kitchen, found our alcohol had been drunk while we were out, and decided (drunkenly) to make a point. This rude girl’s dirty pot had been sitting on the counter for a few days, and to get their vodka-vengeance, someone put other random bits of food in the pot – cookies, paprika, etc. It sat there all day Thursday and most of the day Friday, but apparently the girl had finally cared enough about her dirty dishes to take a closer look. Since the other girls in our hall were gone for the weekend, and she was convinced that it had happened that day around lunch time (because she is so conscientious about her kitchen utensils), that left either me or Joy as the suspects in the paprika-pot predicament. She was very accusatory, though it took me a while to realize that she was there to insinuate blame on me – my attitude had to change very quickly from removed yet sympathetic to defensive. I told her that I had no idea what had happened but I had not touched her pot, nor did I need to (nor would I want to – how long was it sitting on the counter dirty?!) because I had pots of my own and I am not one to touch anything that isn’t mine. She said “Oh, well then it must have been the other American girl,” and I tried very hard not to laugh aloud because the idea of Joy being malicious is just… well… unfathomable! I told her I was sure it wasn’t Joy and she said all right then, who did it? Someone from a different floor came to our floor and used my pot to make lunch? and I was at a loss for words. I hate confrontation and I am a bad liar and she was making me feel guilty simply because I knew who had done it, and that I was connected to them. I insisted that I didn’t know what to say, but that I didn’t touch her pot, and she gave up eventually, threatening that she wouldn’t hold a grudge but she would just like it cleaned, because she likes to cook too. Next time she leaves a mess in the kitchen (as of when I had dinner, there was a dirty roast pan left in the oven as well as an already-boiled potato floating in water in a cold pot on the stove, in addition to the signature smattering of dried pasta on the floor) I’ll say no hard feelings, I would just like this cleaned up because I would like to cook too. In any case, I quickly informed my friends about it and the responsible parties took care of it, and I actually got a reluctant, warped, self-righteous, tight-lipped apology from the rude girl today, but nevertheless there was an apology in there somewhere. Ah maturity.<br /><br />Today I actually got out of bed without hesitation, opened the windows, did ab-jam, and was dressed and ready to go when I knocked on Joy’s door at 11:45. We were supposed to be meeting Rachel and Beth and seeking out Platform 9 ¾ at noon, but when Joy answered the door she had clearly just rolled out of bed. We made it to King’s Cross by 12:45, only to find that the actual Platforms 9 and 10 were under construction, and so the honorary Platform 9 ¾ had been relegated to a brick wall opposite some dumpsters off of Platform 8. Yes. Very disappointing. But I got my pictures (on someone else’s camera since mine is being operated on at the moment) and hopefully it might be back to its original spot before June 13. We wandered around the area a little and found the British Library, and the sight of all the books made me want to cry with happiness. The King George Library is four complete stories of bookshelves behind climate-controlled glass that only staff members have access to, but all of the leather-bound books resting there on the endless shelves looked so satisfied. They had a good home. And I loved them. I was content with just ogling them through the glass since I was clearly not worthy enough to hold them, open them, or read them. Maybe when I’m doing PhD work at Oxford hah! Definitely have to go there with Flor when she comes to visit.<br />As far as vocabulary lessons go, this word is a good one to know, and it comes up a lot. This is too long of an entry already to think of more, and I have laundry to do, so here you go.<br /><br />rubbish – 1. n. garbage “I can’t believe you’re making me help you carry a week’s worth of rubbish to the bin.” 2. adj. without quality, crappy, substandard “Compared to the Evening Standard, the London Lite is a rubbish paper.”<br /><br />And now, 7 single-spaced pages later, you are finally caught up dear reader. I apologize for the length but hopefully you enjoyed hearing about my occasionally embarrassing, occasionally humorous, occasionally poignant adventures. We go to see Hairspray with the Social Programme Tuesday night, and then Hayley, Joy, and I are off to Paris at the end of this week!<br />And I’ll leave you with a poem that I wrote. Finally. One. Hopefully there is more where that came from.<br /><br /><em>Looking outward from my seventh-storey Baker St. perch, I turn the handle, pull<br />Open the window, with effort, and welcome in the morning air, which seems as though its<br />Never been polluted – a lie, but a convincing one. Glaring young sunshine<br />Deceives me, has me thinking everything can be reborn. But all around me, tragically, dwell<br />Old buildings crumbling, scarred with time or scaffolding that hides architectural cosmetic surgery,<br />Not noticing the new eyes, mine and Helios’s, that gaze rapturously upon them.</em><br /><br />Love,<br />Amanda</span></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14007997708103096676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2717597363702078304.post-6308071803556275982009-02-16T12:46:00.000-08:002009-02-17T09:02:55.495-08:00Day Thirty Seven - Warning: Spending £s and dancing could lead to a sense of attachment<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Helloooo America!<br />Well here I am for my belated check-in, despite having convinced myself last week that I was going to update again. I am doing pretty well, and now that my fifth week of class has begun and there are only 5 weeks left, I am beginning to realize exactly how fast this is going. June still seems far off, but February is a cruelly quick month, and it will be March before I know it, and I will be finishing up classes and turning in coursework and making presentations and going to Paris and York and then it will be spring break and I’ll be on my way to Florence and Rome… and then I come back and take finals sometime between April 20 and May 15 and then Johanna and Dana and Flor will meet me in Paris May 16-19 and then Flor will come to London with me until the 24th and Dana and Johanna will join us on the 22nd after spending a few days in Dublin and stay until May 27th and THEN it will almost be June. And I need to fit in a seriously quality Ireland trip at some point. And Bath/Stonehenge. Also maybe Cadbury World, the Cadbury Chocolate factory. Mmm. Who invented money?<br /><br />Anyway I suppose I should give you the illustrated play by play.<br />Thursday after I left off we went to the London Eye and then walked along the South Bank. Just as I feel the most scared when I’m waiting in line for a roller coaster, I wasn’t nervous about the height until I was standing directly in front of the Eye.</span><br /><br /><br /><div><div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjICbqY8y_Af_5mg4_sHvocqMx2a8A84VrKlulSUTqkJNLtsqX2MyVvYpdC1CrxGLzbeHbc3h_on4_YP7qrR6Uf4fE3IIpKDmOBD3f5oFAiM1Lw3fdCZLYMn5qfaM0F731hBJP6TWmQ8gw/s1600-h/London+275.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303506443497255970" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjICbqY8y_Af_5mg4_sHvocqMx2a8A84VrKlulSUTqkJNLtsqX2MyVvYpdC1CrxGLzbeHbc3h_on4_YP7qrR6Uf4fE3IIpKDmOBD3f5oFAiM1Lw3fdCZLYMn5qfaM0F731hBJP6TWmQ8gw/s320/London+275.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">It was HUGE. But it ended up being completely fine. You couldn’t feel the movement of each “capsule” as it rotated throughout the “flight”. It was hard to take pictures at night, unfortunately, but I managed to get a decent shot of Parliament and Big Ben, directly across the Thames (pronounced “tems”).</span><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303506445439231122" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaYDi8Jf2ph6A8nHdiXHNy4brHJFd0L6BzrYQkdt6bDQ8jOQCZgNFbllOvTZ3HWRzkmVtfNaREdj0GIBCdyIVcmr0APDxkKUKjd702kX9dpMPjmeDPoydJaztgq2l9nmONmPuigyT8M2A/s320/London+282.jpg" border="0" /> </div></div></div><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">We proceeded to walk along the South Bank away from Big Ben, and after a prolonged exposure to the frigid air we finally arrived at the first pub. Here’s a shot of the sign in front of the pub with St. Pauls in the background.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303506454671642754" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVQ252gk4jBpwUxz0gtmJYWUVI_hEyc0CLO5Z3aqmkJiwGXfV2-UqVlf9K-yeuw73CtpG4glFR5_GEmgSZgYkJ6qzzleXopvl8WdHWMT1dBmfHZLSJMDIkvRUb3U9P4KnF1tESVeVBxkg/s320/London+290.jpg" border="0" /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The pub was right on the river and it looked like a nice place for a meal any day. And it was WARM. After about half an hour and a half pint of Strongbow we went back out into the cold, and walked past the Globe Theatre and the Tate Modern and a bunch of other important things that I simply must go see at some point. Here's the Globe, which was hanging out by the river nonchalantly, as though it didn't belong to Shakespeare or anything.</span><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303506460469765538" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0H3nj_DrE2xjHqr4cfXSqN1MJRcideDjR4XSuzD-S0MGdt8YxVP-wl7D3pjNKmVqz9oNhiQlscqhO-l8yKpnYq-iKZu0maDhEbmyUSFQBYGDWTgvUsAWbAWXfErgSh8wXaYnQ-IPp01Y/s320/London+292.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">We went to the second pub, which was nearby London Bridge, and just down the bank from the Globe – The Anchor. I’d heard of that pub before, although there are probably about 15 pubs called The Anchor in central London alone. Apparently the first English dictionary was written by someone who frequented it, and Shakespeare’s actors often changed costumes in between acts there as well. We had some complimentary chips and sausage, and the former were significantly more enjoyable. We were pretty worn out and cold by then, so we abstained from the third and final pub. I was on my way to a different pub, O’Neill’s, with a girl I knew from my Modernism class and her friends. I met them at Wigram and after hanging out for a little we took the Tube to Piccadilly and found O’Neill’s, which was across from or in Chinatown. I’m not sure if it had one L or two Ls but we’ll go with two for now. They had been there often enough that the bouncer knew them and let us in without even IDing us. It was free to get in on Thursdays, and we skipped the £2 coat check by piling our coats on a counter in the back corner. The drinks weren’t too expensive, £4 for a Smirnoff Ice and £5 for a double vodka and cranberry, and there was a live cover band playing rock songs from the 80s and 90s – from my childhood! We danced and sang along to Teenage Dirtbag, All the Small Things, Mr. Brightside, and others that I can’t remember. When the band wasn’t playing they played typical club music. It was overall a lot of fun and I had a great night. The flat boots were a good choice, but of course the following night I would wear my heels.<br /><br />Friday we were celebrating Rachel’s 22nd birthday, which was the upcoming Monday, and after a lazy afternoon sleeping in from my late night at O’Neill’s, I got ready and went with Joy to Wigram for a few drinks before we left for Fabric. Fabric is a nightclub near Farringdon and Holborn and it is pretty famous I think. When we got off the bus we were right in front of St. Bride’s church – the inspiration for the modern-day multi-tiered wedding cake!</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303506461528418194" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi511guguIf25llXhEI-8LK_n0JXF25sDi2eZOPk9S5xO4dJzCMZAjdS812krcEXZnSIsmCRWekGq_0F0Pa4mfzbzH_uSz9KaWJHR92nB9uTaSZTph-2U9GKdbMAtDIMaMpE-5L1ozfPAU/s320/London+301.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">It is expensive to get in to Fabric – Saturday it’s £16, but on Friday and with the student discount it only cost us £10. It is, unlike Tiger Tiger, a techno club. I was a little apprehensive as to what we would find and what the music would be like, but we had an amazing time. The club was very cool, expansive rooms, halls, and stairs, without too much décor to make it feel busy. The people and the lights did enough of that. We didn’t get drinks except for £4 Smirnoff Ices, and there were plenty of places to sit – including 2 large black leather mattresses across from the black leather couches outside one of the rooms. Convenience is everything I guess. It was an experience. I danced with Liam, a 20-year-old British soldier stationed at Essex at the moment who had recently been in Afghanistan with “my lot,” who told me I was "f*cking gorgeous," who was also father to a baby boy, whom I saw a picture of, although Liam “wasn’t with the boy’s mum anymore”. How reassuring. The dancing styles that we saw there were… different… to say the least. But we got the hang of it pretty soon and we rotated between the three main rooms as they rotated DJs, and we eventually found ourselves in a laser-disco-mosh-pit-techno room. There were enough people packed into the room for it to be considered a mosh pit, there was trance techno music thudding through our bodies, there was a giant disco ball with a diameter approximately the length of me, and there were green lasers shooting out of one side of the ceiling.</span></div><div><div><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZM67RhN6v4bSIvP_lJEAoII9QaKqPMqZkzbUrAkbCO3vOP_z3SN_0lJkmuqhyWl9bB57RMJspwDZd1dvvAxCAsuUFUf3SRro9JqTgNjLMn38N9HQhilM-CyvQYHL4A3o1drtkDzGIxOE/s1600-h/London+317.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303507493910877906" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZM67RhN6v4bSIvP_lJEAoII9QaKqPMqZkzbUrAkbCO3vOP_z3SN_0lJkmuqhyWl9bB57RMJspwDZd1dvvAxCAsuUFUf3SRro9JqTgNjLMn38N9HQhilM-CyvQYHL4A3o1drtkDzGIxOE/s320/London+317.jpg" border="0" /></a></div></div></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">It was amazingly trippy. And if I had been on any assortment of drugs like most of the people there, it would have been even more amazingly trippy. It was open until 8am, and we probably could have stayed that long if it weren’t for our feet being pulverized by the constant bouncing up and down in high heels. Next time, we will be in flats, and we’ll stay until the dawn. Coat check had only been a pound, but the line to get them back at 3 was pretty long. While we were waiting, our feet had a chance to get the feeling back into them, and they were not happy. Both Joy and I took our heels off while we waited in line, and my feet were swollen like I couldn’t believe. We managed to limp down the street past tons of minicabs that the abroad office had been successful in steering us away from, and it was with great relief and excitement that we hailed a black cab when we got to the main road. Transportation after midnight really sucks in this city. We would have had to take 3 buses to get back, but we decided to save time by paying for a taxi to Piccadilly, where Rachel and Beth and Joy and I could go our separate ways. Joy and I prepared to wait at bus stop Y, where I had spent a significant amount of time waiting for bus 453 just 24 hours before. For 40 minutes we waited. We saw plenty of bus 94, bus 159, bus 88 at that bus stop, and we even saw the Baker St.-bound bus 18 pass by several times, but it didn’t stop at that bus stop. Finally, in the distance, I could make out the numbers 453 on the front of an approaching bus.</span></div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303507497602567682" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZNKcpDqGacIzFKXVTzH0-VQMamXZ7VA_I0HTXshKkhlgwWxF4rLZo4iBMyRB4pilFE839kpUXVOexwpum_nhmcz4tuT16BgJVr6jVLY46pEVywGXVT5zYL4hFzcw9ll8Dl-MIpphbv0Y/s320/London+323.jpg" border="0" /></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">With almost-frozen glee we hailed the bus. It looked like heaven on wheels as it pulled up after that long night, and the second we limped into the elevator back safely at Marylebone, Joy and I pulled off our shoes and let our feet expand to their swollen size.<br /><br />Saturday I appropriately slept in until 4pm and then got ready to go out to dinner with Rachel and her friend Mayumi, whose grandparents live next to Rachel in New Hampshire but who lives with her Oxford-professor-father in Oxford. We went to Pizza Express, which is quickly growing on me, although its not REALLY pizza. You have to eat it with a knife and fork. But it is delicious. We went back to Wigram after our meal and sang some karaoke as we reminisced through Rachel’s iTunes library, much to her neighbors’ dismay. It was fun, but I was worn after two late nights of dancing, and I was looking forward to talking with my friend from home. I went back to Marylebone around 11 and for not-too-various reasons went to bed around 7am.<br /><br />Sunday, you guessed it, I slept in. I didn’t do much, but made a brief excursion to Tesco for groceries that I thought would last a while. Joy and I made a nice dinner of spaghetti and meatballs and salad and garlic bread and pudding in anticipation of celebrating Hayley’s return from being snowed-in at home since the blizzard a week before. She didn’t end up coming back until Monday morning, though, so we saved her leftovers and enjoyed the dinner ourselves.<br /><br />Monday I went to my lecture and didn’t do much for the rest of the day until we met for Rachel’s actual birthday dinner. We got Indian and I wasn’t in love with it. It was pretty expensive if you did it right, which was to order a rice/bread, a curry, a vegetable, and a meat, so I ended up getting Tikki chicken or something like that, which was chicken baked in red spices, and a samosa, which was good.<br /><br />Tuesday I left early for my Third World Studies class so I could figure out how to print notes and the avant-garde manifestos from the Regent Library, but it wasn’t hard and it is only 5p a page. I got to my 3WS seminar and our tutor started talking about the project and presentation that we have to do, and the subsequent report about it, that makes up our grade in addition to the final. He told us that we are to start our presentations next week, and turned to me and asks what I would like to do mine on. Everyone was stunned – he hadn’t even explained the work involved yet – how could we present next week? It was a very frustrating class made more frustrating by the foreign accent and the vagueness with which he described the project, but we were separated into groups and, from what I could gather, were supposed to work on individual projects within the group, but make sure they all have a common ground on which to debate upon within the group. After keeping us after our lecture he resigned to let us choose a topic for each group and then to email him during the week. Well, I have that seminar tomorrow and we still have not conversed as a group to decide upon a topic. I hate being the overachiever but I like to follow the rules and when he says “email me with your topics” I take it to mean before the next class. I’m the only one who has proposed an idea so far and I have never even studied this area before so it is a pretty bullshit idea. But looks like that’s the one we will be using. And we might have to present in a week! It wouldn’t be such a daunting thought if I had any confidence in the other members of my group, but they haven’t given me reason to have much confidence in them whatsoever. Happily, Tuesday night Joy and I went to go see Avenue Q, which I had seen before in NY, but Joy had never seen a musical before!</span></div><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxVba70Gx_dadTImlv70PhnTKoq3bv7EfD7pPsFw_9oKqyI2-2gqC1DV-4Gk_SyRjJDW962cnayuKR5xW-KkQzEtLZD6cgxBrTSuR-ILmkWlD_jmwiUq8itG5gd4hJFoEaHfs81s818u8/s1600-h/London+326.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303507502986708354" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxVba70Gx_dadTImlv70PhnTKoq3bv7EfD7pPsFw_9oKqyI2-2gqC1DV-4Gk_SyRjJDW962cnayuKR5xW-KkQzEtLZD6cgxBrTSuR-ILmkWlD_jmwiUq8itG5gd4hJFoEaHfs81s818u8/s320/London+326.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">We got tickets in the “stalls,” or the orchestra, for £25 each, regularly about £60 each. I overheard a boy in front of us bragging that he had gotten his ticket for £45. I just looked at Joy and we smiled smugly. The theatre, Noel Coward, was very nice, but I was shocked at British theatre customs! First of all, there was no free playbill like on Broadway – you had to pay for it. Second, we sat down and noticed that everyone around us was walking in with beverages. Glasses of wine, soda, and liquor. They were serving them from the bar in the lobby. Then I noticed that everyone also had bags of snacks. The lady behind us pulled out a plastic package of popcorn, other people had chips. Food and drink, not only allowed, but sold and encouraged in the theatre! I was horrified. Then, to my right, I saw a young girl posing in front of the stage curtain, and her father snapping the photo. Aww that’s so nice, I thought, and then it slowly dawned on me. Photography. In. A. Theatre. I am STILL scarred from trying to take a group picture in Spelling Bee, a low budget, non-famous, show – and our picture was facing AWAY from the stage. If we had been in NY at least two ushers would have run and tackled that man before he could have said “Cheese”. But nope, here, wide open photographic opportunities before the curtain went up. Fine, I said, and I snapped a picture.</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303507507988342962" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqSwv7hpXCOswRcs6er3Pe-wIgvY91QN27yxNNETdEg2UsemhQQQnSXU7THpe1MeQa2ZS-5NPOYmIGOQXyIA5-FML09PB1n-bMJapiGXw4fgngXjiPvspx3zWKmo6uSh3ToLv2I-Cvghs/s320/London+327.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Ah, New York City. But</span> so conditioned am I that I could only take one and didn’t dare pose with it. We settled into a good show despite the distractions caused by the crinkling of popcorn bags and the scent of brandy and coke wafting over from the person on my right. Oh, and during the “interval” or intermission, they were selling mini Haagen-Dazs ice cream cups. I felt like I was at a baseball game, although they don’t know that game here, as my linguistics teacher admitted. Since we didn’t have enough money to partake in traditional British theatre cuisine, we headed to the McDonalds across the street after the show was over, and sank blissfully into milk shakes and fries from the 99p menu. I realized afterwards that it was Feb 10, and I had officially been there for one month, and had therefore honored my vow to abstain from American fast food chains for a month. Thank god that's over.<br /><br />Wednesday was a weird day. I had dropped my phone the day before around 3:30pm and had to reset the clock, but had forgotten that it follows military time. So when I set my alarm for 8:30 before I went to sleep, I did not realize that I should have set it for 20:30 if I wanted to wake up in the morning. I woke up around 22:00 and was incredibly confused because I couldn’t believe I had slept the entire day because I hadn’t even gone to bed that late, but then I noticed the sun coming in, and by the time I pieced together what had happened, it wasn’t worth going to my 10am seminar. My mom was having surgery that day though, and I was worried about it and the fact that I was so far away and couldn’t be of any help. So I decided to put my missed class to good use and I looked up Catholic churches in the area. I found St. James which was only a 5 minute walk away, and I went to noon mass. It was gothic style so it was huge with vaulted ceilings and it echoed nicely. There was no music since it was a weekday mass and that threw me off a bit, and there was a communion rail, which I had never experienced before. But I got the hang of it and I lit a candle for mom before I left. It was a feast day of Mary, and there were more people than I expected at the mass. On the way back I explored Marylebone High Street, which is one of my new favorite streets, packed with little shops and a Waitrose – finally a nearby BIG NORMAL grocery store. Hooray! The prices were normal and the selection was 10 times bigger than Tesco or Sainsbury’s, but still no Chex Mix. I had my night class, which was frustrating as usual because of the 5 or 6 people there I am the quickest learner. And I feel bad always answering so I try to do it in moderation but sometimes if I don’t answer we just sit there in silence. It is awkward and it is the longest 3 hours of my week. Mom’s surgery went fine, and I got to talk to her a bit on the phone via skype+cell.<br /><br />Thursday I had my Modernism class and then it was the weekend again. I stopped into a Ryman’s on the way home and got a dry erase board – finally a to-do list! And it’s a good thing, too, because there is a lot of stuff to remember to do this week. That night Hayley, Joy, Verity, and I went to see Benjamin Button since it had just come out Feb 6 here. I assured them it was a good movie, and it was just as good if not better the second time around. I noticed more details, and I could appreciate more artistic elements of the movie without focusing on the plot. And let’s face it, Brad Pitt is pretty amazing looking. It still threw me off seeing previews for movies, though. There was a preview for Grand Torino or something with Clint Eastwood and I said to Hayley “Oh my housemate Dana saw that, she said it was violent but good” and then the screen said “Coming Soon.” Weird.<br /><br />Friday I didn’t do much of anything. I guess I read and did homework and went on Facebook.<br /><br />Saturday I wanted to do something since I had been a lazy bum the day before and most people I knew were either in Amsterdam or Brussels and it was going to be an uneventful Valentine's Day and I began to realize that the time that passes is time that can never be recreated. So Joy and I went to Camden Lock Market. It was like a giant Hot Topic flea market. There was a maze of back-to-back, side-to-side stalls with clothes on racks piled so high you couldn’t see past the one next to you. There were some accessories too, and Joy and I each got a bag. I was looking for a big purse, because I have my Vera Bradley tote and my purple shoulder strap bag, but I needed one that was fashionable AND big AND collapsible enough to be worn out or packed. I found the perfect bag and I am in love with its many pockets and compartments and it will be a great carry-on bag for Italy because I can probably fit a change of clothes and some toiletries in addition to my normal purse stuff. We also went to Argos and I got a much-needed second set of sheets, red. And we went to the Pound Store right down the road, or more accurately, the 99p Store. And I bought some kitchen necessities and some snacks. When I got home I booked my flight back from Rome (which had dropped from 77Euro to 22Euro) and a bus to get back from Stansted in the wee hours of the morning on April 8. It was not a good day for my bank account.<br /><br />Yesterday I did homework all day and finished the reading for Modernism. I was actually very engaged in reading that novel, Riceyman Steps. Maybe because it takes place in London and they go to Madame Tussauds in it, so it’s tangible in a way.<br /><br />Today I didn’t have class but I will be missing Word/Sentence Wednesday night because we are doing a Shakespeare walking tour as part of the social programme, so I went to his other class that was today at 10:30. Only to find that this class is actually a week behind and I was settling in to the exact same lecture as last week. Great. But since I was already up I took a different route home, got a little lost, explored, walked down random streets, and got to Marylebone High St where I spent a quality amount of time (and £17) in Waitrose and got a lot of delicious food. Tonight I am planning on making ziti. Which I have to go get started actually.<br /><br />London Lingo for the week:</span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">"digestives" - cookies. More specifically, graham-cracker-based cookies.<br />“proper” as in “They were proper drunk.” – I’m having trouble translating it, because its sort of self-explanatory. I guess its something along the lines of “really,” but not really.<br />anything, everything = “Eh ni thing, Ev ri thing”<br />urinal = “your eye nal”<br /><br />I sit at my desk and look out at my view every day, and when I can see through the clouds, the sky is consistently scarred and rescarred with criss-crossing contrails from planes to London City Airport and Heathrow. I can watch the air traffic and can usually count at least 5 planes in the sky at once. And the thought just occurred to me that I will be on one of those planes in a few months. And just as actually coming to London was not fathomable to me a month and a half ago, leaving London is unimaginable at this moment. Who knows if I will ever come back? I’ve grown attached to this city in the relatively short time I’ve been here already, and I can’t imagine giving it up and leaving it behind me with a contrail.</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Love, Amanda</span></div>Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14007997708103096676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2717597363702078304.post-19426886820717199362009-02-06T21:07:00.000-08:002009-02-06T21:19:37.024-08:00Day 26 - A Day Late Friend<div><div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I have allocated myself about 10 minutes to update. Oops.<br />Well Thursday seems to be the day to blog since my weekend starts today; I had wanted to blog more than once a week but for now this is the way it is. It’s not even as though I’m horribly busy – it’s the opposite actually – I just don’t feel like updating half the time. I feel like sleeping. Or talking on skype/aim. Or playing tetris on facebook. Or eating. Usually eating.<br />Let’s see last Friday I got a pair of boots! I returned my Primark ones and got ones at Barretts, a shoe store on Oxford St. They had amazing sales going on, and I got these black flat mid calf leather boots with buckles, and waterproofing spray. They were regularly £50 and I got them for £20. Yay! It really made me so happy to finally have them!<br />I wore them on Saturday when Rachel, Joy and I went to the British Museum and I left my camera at home. I saw Egyptian mummies, Greek/Roman statues, and the Rosetta Stone. Which I can’t show you because I forgot my camera. Sorry. It is free so I will go back I promise. We ate lunch at Pizza Express and it was delicious, though not REALLY pizza. That night we decided to go check out a club (FINALLY!) called Tiger Tiger in Piccadilly and I remembered my camera. I was so tired from the museum that I came home and napped and had dinner before we went out. It was free before 10pm, so we arrived at 9:45 and of course had to wait for an hour on the queue. Here’s a pic of me, Joy, Rachel, and Beth waiting outside.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299919064274012402" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_j_DdCNvYfA89ht6LVjU2AukZ260T7USliOk8UMtb7hJ_NKO0VgffJN9lAe6XajKh7d3xVmOvfwwfEh5YH52352CzC0LF5ZU9-VllGv7ee-FnqVuO4A9Cb5FVEgHJDil_xq9Ad0rAqus/s320/London+234mod.jpg" border="0" /><br />We ended up having to pay the £10 cover but that’s not too bad, and they barely checked our IDs. Then it was another £2 per coat. I didn’t have a drink there but it was £5.60 for Joy’s Sex on the Beach. Average. It was pretty crowded and there was the constant thud thud of the beat but no one was really dancing enthusiastically, partly because there was barely any music playing. We checked out the upstairs after doing the coat check-bathroom-bar run and there were a good amount of tables and a few people were nodding their heads to the beat but no one was really into it. It would have been easier to start dancing if a lot of people were dancing as well but most people were there to hang out and talk, it seemed. The music wasn’t on very loud at all. As we were making our way back downstairs Lady Gaga Just Dance came on and of course that’s what we did. But the entire night was like that – 75% bad techno-esque music and 25% decent dancing songs. Around 1 Rachel and Beth left and Joy and I were standing in our spot for literally 30 seconds before 2 guys came up to us. They were from Dubai, and one of them was really enthusiastic. He grabbed both of us in a big bear hug and was like “WHY ARE YOU NOT DANCING!? DANCE WITH ME!” to which we nervously laughed and replied that the music sucked which was why we weren’t dancing. Crazy Dubaian started to dance/suffocate Joy after introducing me to/throwing me at his friend, Calm Dubaian. I was glad to have the politer one, who said something about working in a bank. Maybe that used to be impressive, but not any more. Although if you still have a job in a bank I guess it is sort of impressive. The recession, or “credit crunch” as the Britains have deemed it, has hit hard over here too. I hate the name they’ve given it though because it sounds as though all you need is orange juice and some toast for it to be part of this complete breakfast. After pretending to dance to bad music with a bad dancer (no coming-up-behind-you-hands-on-hip-bones-grinding here – I was holding his hand and he was twirling me around) I rescued Joy from being dance-floor-molested (he actually picked her up at one point. Maybe he was high?) and we escaped by using the boyfriend defense mechanism and by running for the coat check as best we could in hurting high heels through the sea of people that had gathered. Checking to make sure all of our body parts were still where they belonged – Joy had to do this more urgently than me – we got our coats and limped to the bus stop. The N453 looked like heaven on wheels.<br />Sunday I don’t think I got out of my pajamas. I just did some homework and read a little. Then it started snowing. Ladies and gentlemen, I was here for the London Blizzard of 2009.<br />Usually snow doesn’t stick here. But this batch did, and it was the most snow they’d had for 18 years. Five whole inches were on the ground by the morning, so naturally everything shut down. The Tube stopped running. Buses stopped running. Taxis were nowhere to be seen. People didn’t go in to work. Classes were cancelled. Every school was closed. Shops didn’t open. Ambulance service was limited to life threatening cases only. Five. Inches.<br />It continued snowing throughout the day and I didn’t have any classes to cancel unfortunately. Shouts from snowball fights could be heard out my window for about 24 hours straight. Impromptu snowmen reposed on every street. It was magical.</span></div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><div><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299919067991336002" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYwbWqgYqW4l58Ej315CGuwtp8i_PYZxbO8ENCR5Nok87F4rDRozTues-WGxr_xBb-8ROUauuHw-qT2KWfK-ve_YCQlhVIqGIlT2xBoOE8L558adcqD1uwkPliUlw0TlfqTi_BzbVwEhE/s320/London+255.jpg" border="0" /><br />By Tuesday the snow was black, as it gets in any city. The streets and sidewalks were icy, as London doesn’t have snow plows, and I was very glad to have my rainboots when I went to class. This whole week classes were half empty because of the snow. Apparently it is still snowing places. Hayley was stuck at her house after the weekend because the trains stopped running all week. As far as I know she is still there.<br />I walked through Regent’s Park yesterday and took some pictures of the snow.<br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbB38cNY_MmP4XJMAkC9KabZ1b3PV2UJUtsQIG6qSlGrAO5krzXcBJJwLMak_aaELtMkfnsQRiFVLMdtwjOZ8goNulB23aLZweXBR3pne6Dt4OQut70EcNuVR7EA5gf_w2II0oxWUwAjA/s1600-h/London+258.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299919073616549634" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbB38cNY_MmP4XJMAkC9KabZ1b3PV2UJUtsQIG6qSlGrAO5krzXcBJJwLMak_aaELtMkfnsQRiFVLMdtwjOZ8goNulB23aLZweXBR3pne6Dt4OQut70EcNuVR7EA5gf_w2II0oxWUwAjA/s320/London+258.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKc2z8iNPz65b2PAYwsQkByd2lfQRE_NeTkVsnpVG2IimltlPyJ6wmhfNs_w8qe_ah08pesDCizfEa8VV6mlcpmbxFQFO30fnhIFX_To0lh2t_PXeAQlKiiUDh5T3wHk-n46TAR72fQwA/s1600-h/London+260.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299919068410004114" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKc2z8iNPz65b2PAYwsQkByd2lfQRE_NeTkVsnpVG2IimltlPyJ6wmhfNs_w8qe_ah08pesDCizfEa8VV6mlcpmbxFQFO30fnhIFX_To0lh2t_PXeAQlKiiUDh5T3wHk-n46TAR72fQwA/s320/London+260.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />And now I really have to go because we are meeting at the London Eye for the Social Programme at 5:30. We are doing that (ahh heights) and then a South Bank Pub Walk, and then I might go out to O’Neills with friends from my Modernism class. We’ll see.</span><br /></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Also: touch wood = knock on wood and pisser = fun time not necessarily meaning wholesome fun.</span></div><div><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">This took much longer than 10 minutes.<br />I will write again soon!<br /><br />Love, Amanda</span></div></div></div>Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14007997708103096676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2717597363702078304.post-36604806269618521162009-01-29T18:23:00.000-08:002009-01-29T18:38:37.082-08:00Day...Nineteen: A Week in Review<div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Bon nuit.<br />Perhaps I’ll start out with my list of things I’ve learned since we last spoke, since that may be the most [only?] interesting part for you:<br /><br />Vocab:<br />fit = good looking and/or dateable, as in “He was the fittest boy in the school” or “We passed notes about how fit he was”<br />bum = butt<br />fag = cigarette<br />jumper = cardigan<br />typex = white out<br />what’s on = what’s going on, what’s up, as in “What’s on in London tonight?”<br />fancy = like<br />neat vodka = straight vodka<br />mate = buddy<br />trousers = pants<br />cheers = thanks<br />chemist = pharmacy/ist<br /><br />Now make a sentence using at least three of these vocabulary words: “Can I bum a fag off you mate? Cheers!”<br />Except for the fact that bum is used in a different context here. Anyway…<br /><br />Facts:<br />BAFTA = British version of the Grammy’s<br />They have something called “brown sauce” that is served along with ketchup, which is something like vinegar-y and soy-sauce-y barbeque sauce? I don’t really know. It’s weird, but apparently you dip chips (fries) in it and/or put it on sausage.<br />Going to uni (college) does not have a “party” connotation. At all.<br />Until six-form (optional pre-uni schooling occurring after you are 16 years old) all schools in England, public or private, require uniforms.<br />Common crisp (chip) flavors in increasing order of weirdness: Ready Salted, Sea Salt and Vinegar, Cheese and Onion, Flame Grilled Steak, Prawn Cocktail, Roasted Glazed Ham<br /><br />And summary of this week’s events:<br />Well when I left off a week ago, I went to hang out with Hayley and Joy, and the three of us talked and hung out for about 9 hours straight. We went to buy alcohol, and bargained with the guy so we got a regular bottle of Smirnoff for 15 pounds, which is not that great compared to American prices but he was originally selling it for 20. The biggest bottle that would cost about $20-23 was being sold for 27 Pounds. I really need a pound sign key. Insert symbol perhaps? £ There we go. Who knows if that will show up correctly online.<br />Anyway, we made some drinks and started talking while the chicken defrosted and before we knew it, it was 11pm! So we had dinner around midnight and kept talking until 4am. It was really fun though and I am so happy I found them, and I am especially happy that they live on my floor!<br />Friday was a lazy day I think, can’t remember much of what I did. Maybe I went grocery shopping. Probably. And we were supposed to go out with two girls we met through study abroad but they picked the club called CRYSTAL “Where the young and wealthy of London come out to play.” Young? Check. Wealthy. Nope. From London? Eh, half check. £20 cover charge? No way. £12 drinks? I’ll stay in, thanks.<br />Joy went with them though, and they had fun. But true story- a cheap drink was £12. I don’t even want to think about how much that is in dollars. Around $18 I guess. And that means the cover charge was $30. Oof.<br />Saturday was our social programme trip to Blenheim Palace and Oxford. Which was amazing. It was nice to get out of London and to drive around outside of it, and we were in the front of the coach (charter bus) so we had a good view. Blenheim Palace is where the Duke of Marlborough lives, and the first Duke of Marlborough was John Churchill, Winston’s great great great (etc.) grandfather. Apparently Johnny C. did something so amazing in a war that Queen Anne gave him that title and a shitload of land and told him he could build a house on it and she would pay for it.<br />Good thing she never signed any official contract, because over a decade later he finally finished his “house”:<br /><br /><div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1qEW6SAmX5euWH9BhlYhCjz3yDOk7IEhO56quOaCPGunQSIDF8UMZRN_guQ_d_53O3UcqMiRvswRr01dqCW5YmqhZ38NQNOJ1t-xhms-_QoJt0jWmna3Q0atby3YSPwppSHCGVKtdTgY/s1600-h/London+124.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296907979954135522" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1qEW6SAmX5euWH9BhlYhCjz3yDOk7IEhO56quOaCPGunQSIDF8UMZRN_guQ_d_53O3UcqMiRvswRr01dqCW5YmqhZ38NQNOJ1t-xhms-_QoJt0jWmna3Q0atby3YSPwppSHCGVKtdTgY/s320/London+124.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />We didn’t get to go inside, unfortunately, but shivered our way around the grounds until we came up to the front gate. While we were walking someone driving a sleek black all-tinted-window Lamborghini (presumably the current Duke) drove past us to leave. He is 84 and just married his third wife in December. I guess that’s how he’s still picking the women up. I mean, that and the fact that he has a palace. Right.<br /></div><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296907989986756082" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgsajkla2T3Ayv8MGKz1qkklCctY3wt1fVOgKjDhcaY-5ueqtvB0NG4v_qQiCEUMLsYw8RmFrtSbQbNGfOw-VjRz4fDxy8kdxo5dIsUSmsBTZgn8rhI4w9lLx_u0aTAcFQMyNdyQEjKCI/s320/London+126.jpg" border="0" /><br />We walked past some sheep, who acquiescingly baa-ed for us. </div><div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296907985255162242" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlVXCX0lnT1Oqysg8hXmAQTvq08NKk-dzvEk19Ce_5QWdZ2YnDZKfUWzh_N7t6191ulhMtfq2qmWYb9TwZWAuAAw14_aGomeHrAB9AvQhydpQFqCgDl5EKV6Zj4okatc2yuzyqeF78BL0/s320/London+133.jpg" border="0" /><br />After that we had coffee/tea/biscuits (cookies) in a small pub housing a portrait of dear Winston called (a bit ironically) The White House. Just up the road was Churchill’s grave but I guess we had one too many cookies because all of a sudden it was time to leave. We went to Oxford for the rest of the day, which was sufficiently amazing. It was founded in 1170 and now has something around 15? maybe? don’t quote me on that one colleges that make up the University and because the combined campuses are so big, and because one college has a cathedral, it is considered a city.<br />One of the shop-lined streets:<br /><div><div><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF3DUH-pI0vby53Dx15vPtaoTYpibKnwmrMLzv6w0w5Va1jUasJ3f2nvfp5FVvEnBAWkUdswMYiGMSMu13jVLsFAYYrFIePDPPrT5bohpnb6xY2nCOrqX-uqcXKVMx-7UPwFeI6M8IQCo/s1600-h/London+142.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296908724122036658" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF3DUH-pI0vby53Dx15vPtaoTYpibKnwmrMLzv6w0w5Va1jUasJ3f2nvfp5FVvEnBAWkUdswMYiGMSMu13jVLsFAYYrFIePDPPrT5bohpnb6xY2nCOrqX-uqcXKVMx-7UPwFeI6M8IQCo/s320/London+142.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Amazing architecture: </div><div><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296908733103116482" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7J8oWuFdDUn93oHHBDUyf5upqF6nRx4OjzKkkZtS4wehw4rzvsmt45COy8XyLdMuQ_q7Dzbdj3rd-9yWEn76XCyrm67C33EKJLl4Ty68aW3h2Hec6wcRquVCa2qYtjstv6V1zOeqdsHc/s320/London+159.jpg" border="0" /><br />Massive, massive library. At least, one of them: </div><div><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296908728275954706" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM1CaWLqRqWeDyr5o_dORIduY2-QNyMg7nDXktKuwBh0NIeazTnkH54ZL5fCf1H7YC4MpXGK5oVdp1bZBoSk8IfBATGP0vviviBFH1wsP1jDM4ljHS5m6XJPYfgSoJ1uPeVqe0rpEW1t8/s320/London+149.jpg" border="0" /><br />We had lunch at a pub, where I got my first fish n chips!: </div><div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296908732855178434" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4AkJGeIZ8JUINWkh9YWiaMvhwbKpzepwfrwOrluiCK5mPvRpQLehBXwoC0BSs7s3i0BJZ6dAeNvxRC8f9bPE4bw_jHri0hWKsAp8uAfTnTMZqFaHj7tDyV-xO8HBJ0EbjkbbCM0m2uaY/s320/London+167.jpg" border="0" /><br />It was surprisingly very cheap – if you ordered two meals it was 7.20 for both so I split it with Joy and it only cost me 3.60. Nice. And it was absolutely delicious! I mean, you can’t usually go wrong with frying food, but I think I could have eaten about 3 more plates. And yes fish n chips always comes with peas.<br />For the rest of the afternoon we visited Christ Church, one of the colleges at Oxford. It was breathtaking.<br /><br /><div><div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmOOr6W8bGkmq34azp94m4lNZwwiX8RECBUH37a0NbOrtRQj4cjzqXN3zqGcCb_-fsl7SwSKA6pKF7Rix7jC3O1d8iGTYUXet-p2vGo3e0p4GO1R5Z1pRGK4Rbp0fBqjGehn4IX8GYKpY/s1600-h/London+172.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296909570278771250" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmOOr6W8bGkmq34azp94m4lNZwwiX8RECBUH37a0NbOrtRQj4cjzqXN3zqGcCb_-fsl7SwSKA6pKF7Rix7jC3O1d8iGTYUXet-p2vGo3e0p4GO1R5Z1pRGK4Rbp0fBqjGehn4IX8GYKpY/s320/London+172.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />We were able to visit the dining hall there, but we had to wait until lunch stopped being served. This dining room is extra-special not just because it’s old, but because Hogwarts’ Great Hall is an exact replica of this dining hall – but while this dining hall only fits 3 long tables, the Great Hall has been modified to fit 4. It was pretty cool to be in a room like that, and, Hogwarts-style, the walls were covered in portraits. </div><div><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296909569548102658" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2BrvSJrzrqjZ0N-iUknSWBe1ufYUxbqJp-o5doShpDLLRKZIuBwYfLutFUsmyImuLjV3h2wij_yz15YBlev5mSPTCm2EMga3McqVgV6T90rzAic5yBWhm_WpGF79yZKEcElbvrphGPcM/s320/London+176.jpg" border="0" /><br />The steps leading up to the dining hall were also used in the Harry Potter movies, so I had to get a picture with them as well. </div><div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296909574590039218" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtiWtRqd2F8tlSeZuXuFbItgeGb_Eh4rkC3TPaDXs379nCZqfWkPkGF5Prjj6f9Y1SgTsw9Y7qFMBYpyTMjwAyUtvzVlYHLynSNcizQdSprl4ivbzfO0DPg12_IRfSq0vHWg0rwXBPt1w/s320/London+185.jpg" border="0" /><br />We went into the Christ Church Cathedral, which was amazingly old and full of stained glass depicting major events in the history of England’s church, although looking back it pales in comparison to St. Paul’s Cathedral in London, which I saw today, but more on that later. Just standing in the quad of Christ Church College was breathtaking. Joy, Rachel and I in the quad:<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296909579539466098" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ9XDWLTQlG48SrbDmIRIRVkBU_BnalykIKSI9binKXjQODAA9Hm6t3_wGo5qt-Whu3x-TNzoh4rLWrQzaJfQCUseI-F8sEoh0-5FRmXaLC-EwGtA7p-GRxWZAeHeHpo9H4V5zeeA_rsQ/s320/London+207.jpg" border="0" /><br />Man were we tired when we got home, though. It’s tough going on walking tours all day, especially when its cold out, and especially when we got up at 7am. Thus, Sunday I don’t believe I got out of my pajamas.<br />Monday I had my Renaissance lecture for the first time, which was, well, a lecture. I found by trial and error the Regent Library and got some reading done for Word and Sentence Structure. Apparently everyone from that class actually took all the copies of the books out, so there was only one left which is probably gone by now. I read in the library and put the book back on the shelf. How nice of me.<br />Tuesday was Joy’s birthday, and I had class 11:30- 2:30. After that we went shopping at Primark (we being me, Joy, and Hayley) and despite the constant crowded Walmart-on-Black-Friday frenzy that exists there, I managed to walk away with a new purple dress, black tights, a strapless bra and black boots for just over £30. And the boots, which were about £15, I am going to return. Reluctantly. They are exactly what I’m looking for, but they are very tight with skinny pants, they were already scratched, and they probably aren’t waterproof in the least. I might have to spend a little more to get the quality right. Oh well. So that means dress + tights + bra for £15. Not too shabby.<br />We went food shopping after because we had invited the frail group of friends we’d made so far to come over for dinner and drinks before we went out to celebrate. Deciding to cook our own chicken-vegetable-noodle stir-fry, we procured the ingredients and the necessary alcohol and by that time it was about 6:30. We had invited people to come over for 7, so I took the world’s quickest shower and was all ready by 7:30. It was overall a fun night, but it was comprised of an awkward group of people to begin with, since Philipp didn’t really know Joy too well and the three Brazilian girls that came did nothing but talk to each other in Portuguese in the corner before they left an hour later. But we introduced beer pong to the UK yay! Except we had forgotten to buy solo cups (if they even exist here) and instead of playing with beer, we played with water and then proceeded to take shots of “neat” vodka instead. Brilliant. Also, we modified it slightly since the table is attached to the counter, so we were playing bowling-alley style instead of facing each other. But it still worked. We had a mini tournament going on when we all started to feel the effects of 5-7 neat vodka shots within 2 hours, and, well, we didn’t make it out that night. But I think Joy still had fun (at least before 11:30) and we introduced BP to a German and a Brit. As Philipp said, “I love getting drunk to beer ping.” Hahaha =)<br />Needless to say Wednesday I was very reluctant to wake up but classes were all right. I am proud of myself because after Word/Sentence Structure I talked to Matt, my cute (but perhaps gay) lecturer and soon-to-be-PhD in Linguistics, and we discussed grad school and the different fields of linguistics. His field is syntax, and while I think I prefer phonology, syntax may be infinitely more applicable to analyzing the linguistic structure of modernist texts, which is what my hypothetical Rhodes Scholarship application will say. Ah, Oxford…<br />And today I had class and then hunted for a sandwich, specifically a BLT, and while places usually have a wide section of ready-made sandwiches, everything was slathered with mayonnaise. Gross! So, refusing to be defeated even after nearly getting run over on Baker St, I went into Tesco and bought my own bacon, lettuce, tomato and rolls. Ha! And apart from the bacon being much thicker and different (but I didn’t see any other options) it was wonderful.<br />I skyped with Dana and Johanna who are in their apartment in Italy! and it was great to see them. And then I skyped with Mom. And then Joy and I went to meet Rachel for the Evensong at St. Paul’s Cathedral. Evensong is a religious service, but it consists predominantly of hymns sung by the men’s choir, and it is one of the most beautiful and calming things I have ever experienced. The combination of being naturally tardy and having a 10-minute-standstill because of Tube maintenance doesn’t make for arriving on time, so at 5:01 we dashed up the steps of St. Paul’s and through the door and into –<br /><br />it was perhaps the most magnificent, ornate, and breathtaking sight I have seen in my entire life. Words cannot capture it. And sadly, neither can pictures, because no photography was allowed. I literally stopped in my tracks. I was awestruck.<br />And then the choir started singing. And it was echo-ey and spiritual and otherworldly. The hymns were in English but it sounded like they were speaking Latin because the sound reverberated throughout the entire (huge doesn’t even begin to describe it) room. If you would like to approximate the sensation with pictures, Google search for “st paul’s cathedral ceiling”. But nothing compares to the magnitude of being inside it. I will definitely be going back so that I can look properly at everything without feeling irreverent.<br />Well, I think we are all caught up for the most part. Ooh! I found a place that served slices of pizza!!! It was on Oxford St and I was walking by really fast so I didn’t look very closely and the pizza didn’t look thin at all but who cares!<br />Speaking of pizza – I passed by a PizzaHut tonight. It was dimly lit and there were candles on the tables. WTF. McDonalds and KFC also have cool comfy chairs and nice tables. Maybe that’s why they don’t seem to frown upon fast food so much here – it might actually have a certain quality to it! I will let you know come Febrary 10th, when my avowed month of abstaining from American fast food chains is over.<br /><br />So much for writing in more digestible entries. Je suis desole.<br /><br />Arfn (Au Revoir for now)<br />Love, Amanda</span></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14007997708103096676noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2717597363702078304.post-49742409537768991682009-01-22T20:23:00.000-08:002009-01-22T20:30:17.410-08:00Day Twelve Update<div><div><div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Ahem. Yes. Where was I?<br /><br />So we had the boat party Friday night. Here is a belated picture of me and Joy before we left for that. </div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5294340646693343266" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8pQeHhh0PZbF91FSiE-6qqIY4jpfPQtDkDXcrB9s89vzBmrC3YM_6-sDW0bCIF7ppbvwtFXfzTHLMd9n2M0wEY9W5hD228q8vuxI4lyAhTOHBYDyeWfSVFzJNNDjf3mu32OGOgMmdlYw/s320/London+092.jpg" border="0" /><br />Saturday morning we met Rachel at Harrods, stopping for breakfast along the way. I had the worst bagel I have ever eaten in my life. I guess I am spoiled living near NYC. Harrods was nice, big, versatile, expensive, expansive, exhausting.<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA1ncVrwBg8YVHSw1THZDZ51X1zOwbts1hflKFZJGBQJK9WunhyrZj7i36HhqJyCkMUuml_UzS_pImSQBhSpnQYuJqXm7-4vMkJxjMn0CstlsVTU5fQpGMOkbBdGJAOoUbGn_68E77UB0/s1600-h/London+101.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5294340647544189650" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA1ncVrwBg8YVHSw1THZDZ51X1zOwbts1hflKFZJGBQJK9WunhyrZj7i36HhqJyCkMUuml_UzS_pImSQBhSpnQYuJqXm7-4vMkJxjMn0CstlsVTU5fQpGMOkbBdGJAOoUbGn_68E77UB0/s320/London+101.jpg" border="0" /></a>It was very crowded, and we probably shouldn’t have gone on a Saturday during their sale season – that’s right, sale seasons. Jan-Feb is a big sale season for all stores and then there’s another one during the summer I think. And I’m not sure if they offer very many sales in between. Weird. We walked around a bit, wandering streets and getting lost and finding our way back. Rule #1 of living in London: Always carry a map with you. It comes in handy. My stocking-stuffer-turned-life-saver also features a Tube map, which is indispensible. Nothing too exciting happened, and we headed back to Marylebone while Rachel headed to Wigram. I spent the rest of the day reading.<br />Sunday I didn’t set an alarm and slept in until about 1pm. Lovely. I leisurely showered and had breakfast by 2:30, and then just hung out and read for the rest of the day.<br />Monday classes started, although my Monday class is only every other week. Actually, let me give you my schedule.<br />Monday: Even weeks, Renaysance lecture 10-11<br />Tuesday: Odd weeks, Modernism lecture 10-11; every week, Third World Studies seminar/lecture 11:30-2:30<br />Wednesday: Renaysance seminar 10-12, Word/Sentence Structure seminar/lecture 6-9<br />Thursday: Modernism seminar 10-12<br />The end. So I am enjoying my weekend right now :)<br />Monday I found a bigger grocery store nearby (and not down a creepy road) called Sainsbury’s. Still only about a quarter of the size of Stop n Shop but it will do. Classes were all right – I think I’m really going to enjoy Modernism. We’re reading James Joyce’s Ulysses right now and I am, to my surprise, actually very engaged in the story. I thought it would be like Portrait – difficult to read and follow and care about. But it’s actually quite fun to read. Although I am only about one-sixth of the way through. Renaissance has the potential to be boring, but a girl I met today said that the [100% of our grade!!] final exam isn’t too hard. Whew. Third World Studies is a little weird since I am not really familiar with (or interested in?) the subject at all, but I will grin and bear it all the same since it is satisfying both Honors Global Engagement and Social Science Core. And Word/Sentence Structure is a small class, only 6 including me, and the lecturer for now is a grad student from UCL (University College London). Who was very nervous even if he was very cute, and very well dressed for that matter, but who knows in this city? It looks as though it will be enlightening though – we reviewed morphology (::sigh:: Oh Fitzgibbons. Oh HEL.) which we’ll be doing for the first 5 weeks, and then syntax will be the last 5. There was a guy next to me, an adult, who was clearly not a native speaker of English but who had taken Intro to Linguistics last semester. He was giving the lecturer a hard time because he had already learned that stuff (Intro Linguistics is a prereq) and the poor guy was already shaken up without worrying about boring us. Then we did a few examples and he started telling me that “at” is a morpheme in “misrepresentation” because “at” is a word, you know, like “at the store”. It took a lot of patience to set him straight on that one. But he couldn’t understand why “grat” was a morpheme in “ungrateful” since “grat” doesn’t mean anything – it’s not a real word. Ugh. Free and bound morphemes buddy. There’s a difference. And here he was yawning every five seconds. Maybe he could use a little refresher course.<br />Anyway. Let’s see what I’ve learned so far.<br />quid = pound<br />y’alright = Hi, how are you?<br />hob = stove<br />People rarely hold the door for others.<br />Outlets have power switches to turn them on and off.<br />Brits say “like” in the middle of sentences much much less than we do.<br />They LOVE New York City.<br />They LOVE Obama.<br />Boots are the only shoes that they wear.<br />Carriageway = main road<br />uni = college<br />knicker = female underwear<br />pants = male underwear<br />loo, toilet = bathroom<br />fringe = bangs (hair)<br />If they go to college right from high school (or whatever its equivalent is) it is only 3,000 Pounds per year tuition for any school in England, regardless of how much their parents make.<br />Marmite tastes AWFUL.<br /><br />And there’s more but I can’t think of anything right now. I’m going to go hang out with Joy and Hayley, a British girl (yay!) from our floor that I met earlier in the week, for dinner and drinks. The three of us saw Bride Wars yesterday (8.50 agh) and it was actually really cute! </div><br /><div>Actually I should probably leave you with a picture of my room:</div></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5294341373741702674" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMn1hg-h2IILimGD64fyKrofffdA7oIjWDewrH8pCwW6SyyieLl3R3-u7nGYc4_Dxlevu4biv2wd1Inv2RGackRAoB5X4TY8PotJhjg2gq9KAJTK7bat9RtOVXzqO3pde1Tq9UWl2Oln4/s320/London+083.jpg" border="0" /> <div></div><br /><div>and my view:<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5294340653318114370" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie4LgYvsMZ7a2Sf49MUoJHydV3HvVEvD5UB_SdpljUxu8FoyXIRPzN0LsRPdZ2xDejqTVw-d3Yh8axPznBl_uBTcvUqNHyKScxe8pfPlkU4m-oE702E5cNj8y1dZzzMm73hTkHesh1d1w/s320/London+097.jpg" border="0" /><br />Goodbye for now – I will try to update in shorter, more digestible posts in the future.<br />Love,<br />Amanda</span></div></div></div></div>Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14007997708103096676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2717597363702078304.post-53165668004566194602009-01-21T18:06:00.000-08:002009-01-22T20:23:50.592-08:00Day Eleven - Catching up<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I have been meaning to update for about a week now. Needless to say, a lot has happened. I’ve made exponential strides in the attainment of friends, the exploration of my surroundings, and the advancement of my studies, as it were.<br />On Tuesday of last week I had my registration appointment with a study abroad advisor. I officially registered for Renaissance Literature (which I found out today is pronounced, here at least, runAYsance), Modernism II, Introduction to Third World Studies, and Word and Sentence Structure. They are split up, for the most part, into large lectures, from 50-100 students, and smaller seminars, which have about the average 20 ish students that a Marist class would have. Each of these meet once a week, so each class meets twice a week, but the lecturer is usually different than the seminar tutor. My Modernism and Renaysance lectures only meet every other week, though, so at the end of each even week, my weekend will last from noon on Thursday to 10am Tuesday. Pretty sweet. I haven’t been to Word/Sentence Structure yet but I will go tonight from 6-9. After the appointment, my orientation group met and worked on the challenge at New Cavendish, and we were able to get most of the questions answered by looking things up on Philipp’s computer. We searched for something to eat in the area but, after one of the characteristic 15 minute rain showers hit, we ended up at Pret, and I’ve found that I often end up at Pret, which is disappointing since they are almost as frequent as Starbucks. We agreed that we would meet the following day, but at a TBA time that would be determined that night via (expensive) text messages. That evening my homesickness hit a new low – yes, I had had social interaction that day, but it wasn’t friendship. Time passes so slowly here, and I feel like I’ve been for a month instead of 11 days. That night after dinner I missed everyone so much that I curled up in my bed and cried. I then proceeded to play computer games since I had nothing else to do with my time, apart from reading for classes, and was numbly aiming and clicking when I heard a knock at my door. I made sure my eyes weren’t too puffy and answered it – it was Savesha, the girl from 7I, and another girl from 7G. The other girl (whose name may be something like Raffi, but I forget) introduced herself and they asked how I liked it here so far. They echoed my observation that it was quiet and Savesha sympathized: “its booring I knaowr!” I learned that Hayley (who I have subsequently met) lived in 7H, and Ruth (who I have not yet met) lived in 7K, but the girl in 7L was unknown to us, so we went down to knock on her door.<br />This, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, was the sharp upward peak of my experience, the turn-around point, and the graph o(t) of my optimism o over time t that I have been here is certainly undifferentiable at point P where P is last Tuesday night around 10pm. A blond girl opened the door, and said “Hi” in an unmistakably American way. I looked at her sweatpants, which said “Mary Washington” down one leg, and knew before she told us that she was from Virginia. Fredericksburg, Virginia, to be exact. Which is where I grew up. I lived there for about 6 years and did all of my elementary school there, at Smith Station Elementary. The girl’s name, appropriately, was Joy.<br />I may sound like I am being dramatic, but it really was a great moment. We started talking – she was studying abroad this semester as well, and was in the exact same boat as I was in dealing with the changes. She hadn’t made very many friends yet, and hadn’t really explored too much yet, but wanted to travel and experience London and just needed a friend. We exchanged cell phone numbers and I was ecstatic. Finally, a real, full-fledged friend. I IMed my mom and roommate, telling them that things were looking up – I had found a friend! – and then I realized that my friend Rupert, who I hadn’t heard from since I left the States Friday night despite the fact that I had sent him an email, and who I greatly missed, was online and had IMed me! Perhaps that was the peak of my happiness.<br />The next morning (as it was decided, predominantly by me) at 11:30, I took the Tube to Piccadilly Circus where I met with my group. It is similar to Times Square in that it displays several electronic billboards and is surrounded by the theatre district, but it is, as you may have guessed, a Circle and not a Square, and the billboards are positioned on London’s historical first theatre. </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293935126658970802" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQd7NFN0CH2v9osSUR7TqF5r6QcBszYJbttvy6M6KOyn9CZBJqekFYFX_Wpft3tO4C6giAJTnaxvnjYyp2fjSVqLrQCn07bPirWFOpAu_wVMLW7TTmAAH0bxPofGon7-42VSyO5QTxX_M/s320/London+029.jpg" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293935124226138706" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjYiT_3qyLmm5aWctgCJMKHPdwo7Hns8ZgBYMNV3u7wz_2VstKNr2PjNbXEKYrxOSxAQ4X95waJAnFX37I_wAO96dj73giblnVunrxXPQGIO2bFBQNvZ2chWl_BG-bS_wCbmTl6RWUMGY/s320/London+028.jpg" border="0" />We walked around for a bit on a scavenger-type hunt through the theatres, past the Royal Opera House and the Royal Ballet. We saw Drury Lane, but unfortunately there was no muffin man to be spotted. <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293935136846460002" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxzoL5Hp8FszVYpomyBIjw4UFwxd2Do7LDdLnBTVRNNj58ZLd_cWMmthHoTWY3fPIMypoctW_-tjCwi1hmw6Du4mczgdIhmVJH0JkGv-8czWIHVhrzCBArCRADFadPq1n-yKE1fSCAfRM/s320/London+040.jpg" border="0" />After that Gina had an internship orientation to go to and Philipp was meeting a friend, so just me and Rachel were left. She had been to London twice before, so we spent the day wandering around and seeing the sights. We found the National Portrait Gallery, which houses so many famous portraits it is unbelievable, and after a while all the faces started to look the same (but it is free so we can go back anytime we want). We turned the corner and found Trafalgar Square, the vastness of which was simply amazing. I cannot put into words the aura of history and grandeur that it has.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293935952366473602" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBfI2VIjBSnxLdlCvQAeEEnSfWmcRWbeRFmqlo0DqqH2w2U0MdkBWnynHsAns7NNTjMhb-jaykQKXXQhcAyd42ffnJRz2P2bdoofwO1pE038fO5kZIzolvac3SMxkShTTRddoh5qmaLLA/s320/London+043.jpg" border="0" /><br />We posed with the Lions.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293935142979951330" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF4b_YmEPey8YVpg9AqJaofWwuqpLLwLGs2uO8sK2Sq8GkPAF1fe782xyuooTGad_D55Yvc2TBTeM0-ZhdC3WM1qMPU0Ht2qx0hbW_UdvEE3ggtJs1vsuBWCZrhvmXgiuSVEgEpeVdWLQ/s320/London+049.jpg" border="0" /><br />We could see Big Ben just down the road.<br /></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293935144869461378" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFDMDy2IhR9SnvwiFtPne74P_TEUsAe6u_V7xyBFwUAibeW6ky32F8xYLg0c2JhLi2i6R4z5hbYOPDf-nbqiSTDNgAhhV7y3mMUcrssMvb3NLVSzKPrcXyPcDHst57F4_It5TrKNbL8EY/s320/London+051.jpg" border="0" /><br />Taking a detour from the main roads, we walked through St. James’s Park, which I’m sure will be so gorgeous in the spring. It was one of the coldest days yet, so strolling in the park was more rushed than enjoyable. Stopping by the bird-filled lake, we were told by a man sitting on the bench behind us as he rolled his cigarette that a pelican was once seen to eat a pigeon in that very park – he had seen it on YouTube. Sure enough…<br /><br /></span><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PO5ifLzLYiU"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PO5ifLzLYiU</span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /><br />Disclaimer: It’s not for the faint at heart, or for the animal lover.<br />From the park we could see a huge old building nearby, so we went towards it.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293937746052452946" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisqMpPdJGTd5LoG0ckM_kn-GbJIwcxTdtSvSnVaPpbusZ7uzSgBL6LdLBzEaKLMPnNX62dX6IZsnlgAWp3Yi_yGQ7GCRCKm58HLw_62_oCQBr__U8q3CshfvSTY7zPbMdT_mAN-532D1Y/s320/London+058.jpg" border="0" /><br />We crossed the Horse Guards Parade Ground, and the sprawling building used to be the headquarters of the Royal Army, but now just houses the Horse Guards. As we strolled under and through the building, the clock struck 3pm, and Voila! The changing of the guards happened right in front of us.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293936436434358146" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVlAlH7wrbtR__ipkuaMM0T2EwNmf8WPGcW05DkSiXuhbxNQnCx6quZiRrGFcZUn_13IeU5ohx7aOhx6GbTWggb3docP7_MhRq3kks89FGBgPrRl9mmAdzA8m1L1nNKSOihlbNWrO-BDY/s320/London+064.jpg" border="0" /><br />I hope to see the changing of the Buckingham Palace guards as well. We walked towards Big Ben and Parliament, and headed behind them to Westminster Abbey, but since the entrance fee was 9 pounds, we decided to save it for another day.</span> <div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293936445062650882" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyj92LLsV6ByRkM-ZdM0GkS9Mgao3B8Lhl2iPL7ymz5usiGKwcwB6YlY4OzA45GqcI5WPzv-POgPPawWF9Z70LVFrWP_DEih6j7mEgdkzcv3ffFdQHIT2N26eZhX9u0uLHR-DytBQjJ7w/s320/London+073.jpg" border="0" />We did some shopping along Victoria St, and later headed to Primark on Oxford St, which is the cheapest place around to buy clothes. So I did. Three shirts, a scarf, and a change purse later we needed some nourishment! So we hunted out a local pub near Victoria St Station – the Brass Monkey. It was full of after-workers, ties loosened, jackets unbuttoned, mostly men but some women too, all holding pints or glasses of wine and laughing, talking, blowing of steam. We managed to squeeze in and find a table, and I think we shocked the bartender when we asked for some food. The food was decent and the “chips” (this time referred to as such) were good, and I ordered a half pint of cider, Strongbow, which I must say I enjoyed significantly more than beer. After that, I jumped on the Tube towards Marylebone Hall. I was exhausted.<br />Thursday I slept in and then headed to the Regent St campus to turn in our group’s challenge. After accidentally heading to an International Film Festival instead, I hurried to the New Cavendish campus, because the answers were due by 1pm. I had a lazy day until the evening, when Joy and I went out to explore Oxford St, which I later found out, is actually the longest shopping street in all of Europe! We went into Selfridges, an (unbelievably) upscale department store, and we deduced that most department stores have a candy counter – theirs happened to be a Godiva counter. After gaping at some sweets and gasping at the prices, we found the discounted Christmas candy – Hallelujah! – and we bought a giant chocolate Christmas tree – 1 kilo of solid milk chocolate dusted with edible gold lustre. It had originally been 39.99, but had been reduced to 5. A lovely investment. </span></div><br /><div><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlOTcwSG500zwChiHTLpTMfwKFDgM_Z548D8uR5aKIb4bdoomnioCgP4mWTxDmiGhURZ5nVCGMqVDyzr0XMcP6pCZsPCCp6P5FB3BQcfgghDtzOjKPN-2PA2AtDqLPQbcUEzhl7nbHrUQ/s1600-h/London+090.jpg"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293937074320566498" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlOTcwSG500zwChiHTLpTMfwKFDgM_Z548D8uR5aKIb4bdoomnioCgP4mWTxDmiGhURZ5nVCGMqVDyzr0XMcP6pCZsPCCp6P5FB3BQcfgghDtzOjKPN-2PA2AtDqLPQbcUEzhl7nbHrUQ/s320/London+090.jpg" border="0" /></span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br />We ate at Garfunkels, a restaurant on Oxford, and both tried Cottage Pie – a variation on Shepherd’s Pie, I assume. There was no pie crust involved, unfortunately, but a round casserole dish filled with “beef mince” – shredded beef and some onions, etc. in a gravy sauce – topped with mashed potatoes. <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293937078682366514" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOgmXZ_ZgY8ZbUIAJNsjWGTF5XMDaMQShQc6XMsfvVoE0GU0PYfoajAQNMUTo3gwlQ61G43QyCRExgKzuyDayJytLXIvi0bLUpmhDayCFBzQC7OAZwgENpR8MetMiFB6_a6YWJ9JRUdOM/s320/London+089.jpg" border="0" />It was actually pretty good, and something I would definitely order again. We shopped around a little more, but most of the stores were closing around 8. We hopped on the Tube to Edgeware Rd to hunt out a grocery store that we had heard was there, but we turned the wrong way when we left the station. After passing one-too-many “Mohammad’s Falafel Palace”es along the poorly lit and increasingly rundown street, we figured out our mistake and turned back. Finally we saw Waitrose, the grocery store, and we were just checking out the all-organic and far-too-expensive produce department when they started closing up – the store was only open until 9pm. Reluctantly we checked out, me with my head of lettuce and two new potatoes, and headed back with our (predominantly edible) day’s purchases. We ate the top tier of the tree when we got back.<br />Friday we had orientation round 2 which was relatively boring, but I was a pro at getting to the room it was held in since I had found it somewhat unintentionally the day before. One of my lectures, Modernism, was also to be held in that room so I was glad to have scoped out its location early. The coordinators talked about health issues and university services and delved into culture shock a bit, which is something that I have doubtlessly been experiencing. I have been more depressed and introverted and headachy than usual, and I could sleep at any given time of the day for as long as I could (although not always at those times when I was actually trying to sleep). I was lonely because, after all, my friend count was at 2, which, despite being a huge leap from where I was earlier in the week, was not anywhere near the sense of togetherness and family and the comfort of reliability that I was accustomed to.<br />Joy, Rachel and I walked around and explored Regent St, found ourselves on Oxford St, and meandered down side roads and through little shops until we came upon Bond St. We were all hungry but we only had about two hours before the Study Abroad Boat Party started, so we parted ways with Rachel, who did not end up attending. Joy and I got ready (both wearing shirts that we had recently purchased on Oxford St) and took the [incrediblycrowdedwithcommuters] Tube just before 6. We got to Monument Station and followed the crowd (cloud?) of Westminster students down to our docked boat, which remained docked the entire time. We caught a brief glance of the Tower Bridge before we got on the boat, but I wasn’t able to snap any shots unfortunately.<br />The boat party was awkward at first and I found myself wondering – “How did these people find such huge groups of friends already?!” – while eyeing the bar and pondering what my second legal drink order would be. Everyone was walking around with raspberry-colored beer, which upon further investigation was identified as a “Snakebite,” so I ordered that. Memories of the Poison Skippy of Halloween 08 flooded back into my mind as the beer/liquor/fruit juice mixture flooded my taste buds, and I hurried (as fast as one can hurry to drink something with unwilling taste buds) to finish the cup. For the rest of the night I stuck with unmistakably sweet Malibu and Cokes, for 3.60 a cup. I found Philipp, who greeted me with kisses on my cheeks, and he became friend #3. He was sitting with a bunch of other Germans and a girl from Denmark, all of whom proceeded to kiss me on both cheeks when we were introduced – Ah, Europe! I forget what the French call it. Something like “biser” I think. Oh well. The music was the same thing I’d hear in Hatters, except when it cleared out towards the end of the night and they played The Thong Song. That was weird.<br />Fourteen pounds lighter and a little tipsy, we walked (me, in heels, doing whatever sort of thing came closest to walking – stumbling, tripping, jogging quickly with short steps so as to better keep my balance – I’m sure you can picture the comic scene on the cobblestone) back to the Monument Tube. Tube stations may be a desolate place at night, and I was certainly glad I had Joy with me. We hopped on the Circle Line Westbound and after realizing that we should have taken the Eastbound, tried out two more lines and made it back to Baker Street, where I bought the worst excuse for an eggroll I have ever experienced in my life before we came back and went to sleep.<br />And since it is 2pm and I still have almost a week left to summarize, I had better leave it at that for now. Tomorrow when I finish class I will continue, but my head is heavy and my eyes are sleepy, or any combination of those words.<br />Love,<br />Amanda</span></div></div></div>Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14007997708103096676noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2717597363702078304.post-70533164154479911642009-01-13T15:35:00.000-08:002009-01-21T18:06:33.379-08:00Day Three - London and Loneliness<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I wrote this yesterday but hadn't created a blog yet:</span><br /><br /><div><div><div><div><div><br /><div><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290938882396124802" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt8jIff_2KueFQWqt6Am06eJ2DeNYBZUT_MmDx3jN3V-w_8dd2yu7_r7hFrVOK4ads5yBQH_vdDfF4sMc40YDeeg_In-cOWKIg5qnlzwJmHj9OGnEb_8_eSsac9ysx4wJ_ei8Cnbjjmf4/s320/London+021.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">It's technically my third day in London and I haven't posted anything yet, and I want to keep a relatively updated account of my experience here. I don't want to put restrictions on it, like I must update every 24 hours or something, because I know I will just end up disappointing myself. But I don't want to forget anything that happens here, so let's see what I've done so far.<br /><br />Well I took the plane Friday night after having a bad reaction to some face cream which left me looking like I had a red mustache. Excellent start. The flight was okay, but I didn't sleep much, maybe an hour or so, just watched Everybody Loves Raymond reruns and listened to music. Looking down at cities at night is so beautiful, but once we got up past Canada it was nothing but darkness. They were preparing us for a lot of turbulence but it didn't get very bad until the end of the flight, maybe the last hour. There were lots of Brits on the plane as far as I could tell, and after being here a few days I definitely see a difference in the way Americans and Brits look. I don't know exactly what it is, but you can tell who belongs here and who is just pretending. As much as I try to fit in, I know I haven't really got it down yet (it IS only the third day) but I'm not sure what I need to change - clothing plays a big part, but it's also the way they carry themselves, or their stride, or something in their faces that tells you what their accent will be before they speak.<br /><br />Anyway, the woman sitting next to me was very small, Asian, young, late 20s early 30s perhaps, and we talked briefly. She lives in Westminster, which ironically enough is not the town that I am living in. I live in Marylebone (appropriately) but the main campus is in Westminster.<br /><br />After the flight got in at Heathrow, I went through the passport check and got my luggage, and the first thing I saw when I walked out of the terminal was a Starbucks. At 7am, for someone who has eaten some airline chicken/pasta/corn/broccoli dish the night before, Starbucks looks like a sanctuary. Except for the fact that the prices were in pounds. I awkwardly shoved my luggage cart between the tiny tables at the Starbucks and then faced the dilemma of leaving it there while I waited in line. In Britian, everything seems small and narrow - the aisles, the streets, the sidewalks, the people - definitely not big enough for me, my backpack, and my luggage cart. When I sat down next to my luggage and used a Sudoku puzzle to disguise what was actually careful contemplation over how exactly to order my drink without abandoning my belongings, everyone around me seemed to be lurking predators who saw through to my undeniable (and inadequately masked) naïveté. Eventually I felt comfortable enough (and the line had gotten shorter) so I ordered my drink and then sat down to drink it, and all around me people were arriving - families, friends, lovers. I felt very alone, which was a marvel considering the huge luggage cart and stuffed backpack that accompanied me at that Starbucks table. It didn't help much when the shuttle bus came and I was its only passenger, or when the driver (who had in earlier days sold hotdogs in the venue while the Beatles played) said "So ya cayme heah aw bie yosewf, didja? At's a bit daunting isnit." Even with the phonetic alphabet I'm not sure I could accurately capture the pronunciations.<br /><br />After a slight communication issue with both the reception desk in the main building and the security guard in the residence hall (both probably due to the fact that American English was my first language while British English was their second or third) I made my way up to 7J in Marylebone Hall and, upon opening the door, found myself in a hallway that ended in a desk and a window. Upon further entering the room, I realized that one of the walls of this hallway was partially made of a bed, and that this hallway, albeit a wide one by British standards, was to be my home for the next 5 months and 3 days. The doors on the left wall made up some fragmented version of a closet, and the door on my right was, indeed, the WC. Which had no TP. After calling my parents for what was surely a very expensive 9 minute phone call, I unpacked my bedding (a lovely coral-orange sponge-painted-wallpaper pattern) and collapsed into the migraine that had been demanding attention since my flight.<br /><br />I awoke to the sound of my new Nokia ringtone, looked at the number that was calling me, remembered that I wasn’t familiar with British phone numbers in the first place, and answered anyway. It was Jess Durante and the rest of the Marist kids at FIE who had arrived a few days earlier, and they invited me to go explore with them. Thank God they did, because I had nothing planned and probably would have ended up sitting in my room with nothing to eat, working up the courage to step outside my building. They were meeting me at the Baker Street Tube stop, so I set up my internet, put on my coat, and went to get to know my surroundings a bit better.<br /><br />I walked down Marylebone Rd and around the corner onto Baker St to get a feel for what was in close proximity. Within those two streets there reside: Pizza Hut, Kentucky Fried Chicken, McDonalds, Starbucks, a Post Office, Boots (like CVS), Tesco (a mini grocery store), Costas (like Starbucks), Pret (which is like the food portion of Starbucks only bigger) and Eat (which is like Pret). While I’m on the subject, sparkling water is a big thing here, but I haven’t tried it yet. This morning at orientation it was either coffee, tea, or sparkling water. You have to ask/look for “still water” if you want plain old H2O.<br /><br />Anyway, I bought my first tube ticket (4 pounds ack!) and went with them to the Westminster stop. It was kind of weird to be in London with all of these Marist kids, but at the same time they were so familiar that it seemed relatively normal. We stepped out of the underground and literally right there in front of us was Big Ben.</span></div><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290936853841985474" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYdAH2KCue_6ANZ7PoGHQIpKCvN8wr2Y_mTJ7jzaOyEuEnmJIW6Jj1i6xPNV50De3FQjcKAXHhyphenhyphenwyv65jIn0jBytXSXqXtZgkEMtMT5KkTYWQm83aJ0Fm-Vv5nNFWLcCNDlmAY7waQGjc/s320/London+002.jpg" border="0" /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290938886131173394" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTT8DkIIzPvdsRfUrSq875iC3yGTUi7wq1WuNLbu8YJGaPXZLIs-3TecPRV5qP6OGI7C98CJMsNNfvQLLx5XJnBYcHXo-ZMCO37q6gND5G5ll-T9YXypzqxK1btfqe3XOW-xUw9Lba9ms/s320/London+005.jpg" border="0" /> <div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">After taking a good amount of photographs we walked farther down the sidewalk and then we got a good view of Parliament, which also resulted in several pictures.</span></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290937128057191378" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG2wycIeUdsM5smHHqL1N62pkBZQdts0dXhEOsETzHnboAapJoNp0Vw7uWZv8JdnvmSRNoucfnBQ8aHRxOr625dAizi0eGzNnoNw3AihNmJ4EAgj7v9Mh_eLg7frhJJCctRjiAsDyqlAQ/s320/London+009.jpg" border="0" /><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Finally we walked far enough down that we could capture both of them in one shot, which made for more even better pictures.</span></div><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290937288766438306" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTc1Y7jfhUEnSW6miyBZ-mFgS0jD2lPwhGM0YM1OL6iS5jnakwvrLlxeKXIB55FeXNgkXNubQO23UJgmyDQ-3EuklNsQG5kq1uflUY8wVJ-r6OaH5IShYAC2yfUI4jwsvMW40RzhIQ8UA/s320/London+011.jpg" border="0" /><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Turning around, we had a great view of the London Eye.</span><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290938873862852994" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8IGHUGlsgqL9oxkmAbwScfFkuW07odACU8pD8YrOF998HJv21VDLvqd7pNjJG4mHu59ES1_RsnXnp_6Ct5aFuPcuwUXdEH5aZELdHUJq9Pi6G2eaQNtd6bJrXpeFufKdJxnHQc0hxhg8/s320/London+012.jpg" border="0" /><br /></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">And so, slowly but surely, in varying intervals of flashes, and stopping every few feet or so to snap another, we crossed the Westminster Bridge.</span></div><br /><br /><div></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290937426507366754" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY-x8GLMk_d4WiXunzH5t2jqbJ__TRAMZABxgdu-uZGFrIdKJJ3cOMz0T4uksvhKZofeC6k9ItAM44tRg66p3uMYxGjB0cSO2VUUrvaQq20AolIZunBCbIh6jVltA5BtGFloTvWHYLP5E/s320/London+006.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">This was London, breathless and grandiose and photogenic. And freaking cold. After the shock of seeing the quintessential London sights faded slightly, I realized that I hadn’t eaten anything of sustenance (a Tall Caramel Frappuccino doesn’t go very far) in close to 24 hours. So we asked and found the nearest pub, All Bar One, on Chicheley St, directly behind the London Eye.</span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290938889646340530" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU0D-8xN9X2Sn6CFm_VjWdUeO_FHEf_k_tidM1S2iS_jnqRvx9Z3ML5fZQy58pbjQtcESMxJIsr1xO70cMER1AqUek7nuLHwUHk0fiovFzEx9KQSQ913qA90bqJ9z0wGJo2hRbi4WFDDY/s320/London+019.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I was too nervous to order a pint, because 1) I have never ordered a drink from a bar before in my life, 2) I don’t know anything about beer, 3) I ESPECIALLY don’t know anything about foreign beer, and 4) I don’t even like beer in the first place. So I chickened out and split a bottle of wine with Jess and Lindsay with my burger and “chips” (which they disappointingly referred to as “fries” on the menu). It was nice just to hang out with everyone though, and to get to know them all a bit better. Uh oh, I just said “a bit” – the British is getting to me already!<br /><br />When we headed home, it felt as though it was late at night, but it was really only around 8pm. I took the Tube and walked back from Baker St, and felt very accomplished. My first day in a new city and I was already a pro! Well, not really. But I could handle this!<br /><br />Day Two – Okay, now that I’d mastered the walking-around aspect, I needed to master the making-friends aspect. My mission was to meet someone on my floor, or at least someone from the Study Abroad Program. I slept in, unloaded my All-Unied pack into the kitchen, and went to use my padlocks on my cabinets, and realized I could not figure out how to change the combination from 0000. “Perfect conversation starter!” I thought. “Hey, what’s up, I’m Amanda, I’m studying abroad this semester, do you know how to work these locks?” It would be great. I would seem friendly, casual, and not too desperate. So I fixed my hair, looked as stylish as possible, and went out into the hallway. I knocked. And I knocked. And I knocked. No one came to answer their doors. “Maybe they’re not in there, or maybe they’re asleep at 2pm,” I thought. “It’s fine.” Then I came to my next door neighbor, who had been in and out all morning, and whose music was blasting, heightening the obviousness of her presence. I knocked. I heard the shuffling of feet and the rapid clink of the peep hole being opened. And then the shuffling of feet back towards the music. Where they stayed. She didn’t even open the door – just left me standing there, the friendless foreign American, foolishly grasping a padlock that clearly lacked the key to companionship, becoming swallowed by loneliness in the deserted hallway. Defeated, trying to shake off the blatant display of unfriendliness, I went in the kitchen and put my locks on with their 0000 combination, and then – a miracle – another human was around! It turns out it was the mean girl from 7I, looking at me warily from around the kitchen door, enquiring (more British) “Ah you nyew heah?” We had a halted, slightly repetitive conversation (mostly because I am not yet used to the British accent since this is the first conversation with a Brit I’ve had consisting of more than just “Can a get you sommin to drink mam?…Wot size?”) that consisted of me stumbling over my words and clumsily fumbling with the padlock still in my hands. I don’t even remember her name, but she ended by telling me just to ask if I needed anything before disappearing out the kitchen door. As of right now, 5pm the following day, that was the last time that I saw another person on my floor.<br /><br />Spurred on by the hope inspired by the possibility of a connection with another human being, I confidently set out to find the Tesco Express Google Maps had told me lay just down Baker St. It took a while to find what I needed, and the cashier gave me a dull blink as I brightly apologized, it was my first Tesco experience, while searching for the appropriate cash. I cooked pasta for dinner and returned to Tesco for a six-pack of Evian after realizing I hadn’t bought anything to drink. It was a quiet evening in my tiny room, cold (from a drafty window I think) despite the heater on high and I spent it talking on Skype and posting pictures to keep myself occupied, but as I lay in bed trying to get some sleep for my orientation in the morning, I could hear the girl from 7I in her room, with friends over, all happily talking in their jolty British accents, laughing, and I could only pick out certain words that I understood. On the other side of the wall, huddled underneath my sponge-painted blankets, alienated, lonely, and missing everyone (especially Richard), I cried for the first time.<br /><br />The second day was the hardest when I moved in to Marist, I remember, and I tried to remind myself of that. I would make friends tomorrow, at orientation, where everyone is in the same boat as I am – everyone is foreign and lonely for the moment, I reassured myself. I woke up and headed to the New Cavandish campus on foot, trying to take in the sites while maintaining the pace of a local. There, I met Magnus and Ana Marie from Norway, Juliana from Brazil, Fernando and Maria from Mexico, Mohamed from Morocco, Phillip from Germany, Gina from Chicago and Rachel from New Hampshire. The last three are a part of my Orientation Challenge group, which we are meeting for tomorrow after our registration appointments at 12:45. Rachel is also the only one from her college here at Westminster, and we exchanged numbers. Other than Phillip, though, they didn’t seem too keen on hanging out (more British expressions!) beyond what’s necessary for the challenge. Hopefully I can be friends with Rachel though. She and Gina live in the same residence hall, and they are both vegetarian, but I really hope I can squeeze in there. It was so nice to be able to talk to other Americans, not that I would mind becoming good friends with someone outside of America – actually, I would prefer it. It is only the third day, but I still don’t feel as though I’ve made any worthwhile bonds. I know friendship takes time, so we’ll see what comes next. I feel pretty satisfied after today though, because I finally had a decent amount of social interaction. I also walked around a lot and found my way home, which makes me a little more confident in my geography skills.<br /><br />Well, it’s almost dinner time and I think I’m going to run to Tesco to try to get some soy sauce and some salt and pepper, and maybe some sweet stuff because I have just run out of gummy bears, and hopefully later tonight I will finally be able to put pictures up and maybe stick my toes into Ulysses. We’ll see. This has taken me 2 and a half hours, but I’m glad I got it all down.<br />I’ll write again soon.<br />Love,<br />Amanda</span></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14007997708103096676noreply@blogger.com1