My English Adventure Is Waning

I have 13 days left of my English adventure. Today Alyssa, Danielle, Yarran (another Aussie), and I had dinner with Marisa to wish her off. She is leaving tomorrow morning to go back home. It has started. The goodbyes were strange. It was like I was wishing her a lovely vacation; don't worry I'll see you soon. But the thing is, I won't be. There is no guarantee in this world that I'll even see her again in my life. That's how it is with everyone that I've met here.

I've been thinking about it and I suppose it's like everything else in this world: you have to work at it to get anything worth while in return. Only I can "guarantee" if I will see these girls ever again. I was serious when I talked about visiting Alyssa in Australia next July. That would be a kick ass grad gift to myself. I'm serious when I say I'd like to go to Canada to see Marisa. I'm serious when I say I'm saving money to spend spring break in Florida with Danielle.

We all don't want to leave, not because England is so superior to our actual homes but because that means that we'll be leaving each other. How do you walk away from a good friend? These last few days have been and will continue to be bittersweet. We are all conscious and excited about going home but at the same time it's something that we talk about in an abstract way. There are moments when we stop and express how much we'll miss each other but mostly I think we're all trying to pretend that we don't live so far from one another and that there isn't a large amount of uncertainty hanging over the idea of seeing each other again.

This is What Procrastination Looks Like

I apologize for the grainy pictures. I don't know why it's showing up like that.

Three Posts in One Day?

Yea, that's right children. Although technically it's no longer June 6 for me so it's a brand new day, which calls for a new post I'd say. I've been slacking off and for that I apologize.

So to make up for my awful tardiness, here is a video of the street performers in Rome that I mentioned in the Italian Adventures: Rome post.
*EDIT* The street performers are called Los Chatos and you can find them at www.loschatos.net



And as a bonus, here's the footage from the Birdcage, that lovely drag show event I went to in Manchester.

Sometimes It Feels Like Worry Is My Only Friend

I've been going through an interesting time here the past few days. I have my last exam on Wednesday and I have to write an essay for my Shakespeare class (which drives me slightly crazy because we asked if we had to do one and my professor said no, an answer that changed the moment I finished my exam. The department said I had to do it. Lame). I've been having a few issues with money and all of my friends (Danielle and Alyssa) are away traveling. My lovely Canadian friend Marisa is still here but she needs to study. She's been awesome, encouraging me to study because I need to as well but let's be honest, I'm terrible when it comes to actually doing work.

So today, after studying with Marisa at the library for a while, I came back to my flat and made myself some food. I basically have rice and pasta left. I've been eating pasta like it was going out of style. I had pasta and gravy last night. Yea, pasta and gravy. It's not as bad as it sounds....or maybe it is. Anyway, I'm lonely. That's the long and short of that. I think I'm really ready to go home. I don't know. It's weird. It's like the same feeling I had the few weeks before I left for England. I'm anxious. It's like this is winding down and it's time to start something new again. I'm going home after six months of being gone. I envisioned myself hugging my nieces and my mom earlier today when I was walking down the corridor to my room.

To help procrastinate, I started to put all the souvenirs I got for people together. That prompted the desire to pack them. As in pack them in a suitcase. So I got my small suitcase out and I packed it with stuff that I don't really use anymore: my winter coat, a blanket, and most of my scarves. It's crazy how many scarves I've brought. And yes, I used them all at least once. The best part about the packing though is that the souvenirs that were meant to be packed away weren't. I felt like I might break them.

The point is I spent a small part of my day thinking about packing and fantasizing that I was home. I cried and looked at pictures of my nieces and my family. Don't get me wrong, I don't want to wish my time away here. I don't know the next time I'll be in England, if ever, again. I have said before, something which I know is true because I can just feel it, that things don't seem impossible anymore. I know I can live out here for a length of time and I even talked to Alyssa about moving out here and working at a hostel with her while I go to pastry school. I can say those plans out loud and they don't seem crazy or laughable. Those are actual things I can do.

I am looking forward to being home. The weather here has been better but it's nothing like home. I'm looking forward to shorts and tank tops. I'm looking forward to snuggling my cats. I'm looking forward to spending time with my family.

Italian Adventures: Rome

The last entry of our Italian adventures and I'm sorry to say it but I'm totally going to half ass this thing. Don't worry; the highlights will be presented in easily read bullet points.

~Me and Dave saw a guy get hit by a car. Not a huge, flip in the air, smack!-here's-the-Italian-ambulances type of hit but hit nonetheless. We were walking down a narrow street (the only kind of street in Italy it seems) and this guy was walking pretty much in the middle of the road. A car came down the street. It wasn't barreling or anything like that, it was actually probably going about 9 miles per hour, if I had to guess. Well, the guy failed to move and the car clipped his arm. The car stopped, the driver half stepped out and apologized and then kept going. It was crazy though. I can check seeing a guy get hit by a car off my list of things I've seen in my life.

~There was a moment in Rome where me and Dave witnessed two very different things. I saw a dad (presumably) pushing his baby in a stroller get caught on the curb because he didn't quite get on the slopey part of the sidewalk, which caused the stroller to basically rack him. Dave saw a little Italian baby upon the moment of impact with the curb say "Ai!" This transaction became a regular laugh out loud joke for me and Dave from that moment on. Mostly because the baby said "Ai!" If that baby would have been English speaking, you can bet money that it would have said something different. There would be a difference between an English baby and an American baby even. But there's something about "Ai!" that makes it seem like something a baby wouldn't say. Whatever it is, it was hilarious.

~So me and Dave went to the Colosseum and we spent the better part of an hour there. Probably longer actually. We got there right as it was opening because we didn't want to have to wait in line forever. After we spent time looking at all the awesome ruins, we walked to the park that was near the Colosseum. It was a lovely little park and we took some decent pictures of the Colosseum there. Then we decided to walk to these other ruins that were located on the opposite side. To get there we had to walk through the front of the Colosseum. By that point, there was a slew of people there. As we walked along, a woman came up to us. She asked if we spoke English and if we'd like to go on a tour of the Colosseum, it would only cost one arm and one leg. We declined; we'd just seen it! We got two more offers just like that one in about 10 seconds. After the third one, we decided to pretend that we spoke Spanish only, lying when they asked if we spoke English. We spied another tour giver. As we walked past her she asked "Habla Espanol?" We said no and kept walking. We started to laugh and contemplate the odds of that happening. What are the chances of the next person speaking a language we were pretending to speak?! I then suggested we pretend that we only spoke Swahili because I could remember some I learned in the sixth grade. Dave said no because he couldn't handle the next tour guide asking us if we spoke Swahili.

~The day we went to see the Vatican Museum and St. Peter's Church, me and Dave were very hungry but we couldn't decide what sounded good. We walked through this area called Campo di Fiori (a place we'd walked through a lot while we were in Rome). There are a bunch of food places there (including the BEST pizza ever). We couldn't find anything that we wanted so we walked down this little alleyway. After being prepositioned by a guy trying to get us into his restaurant, a preposition we almost took, we walked by this little shining light. It said "Taqueria." Dave was like "Is that what I think it is?" We walked in and there were little brown Hispanic ladies ready to serve us burritos! We were so excited; it was exactly what we wanted to eat. The ladies behind the counter only spoke Italian and Spanish, two languages me and Dave were mediocre in. It was so weird because I kept trying to think of how to say things in Spanish but because I had been thinking Italian for the past week, it just came out as Italian. So we spoke Spalian- Spanish Italian. Similar to Spanglish. It was crazy.

~The same day we saw the Colosseum, me and Dave walked to this one museum that was near all the ruins. On the way there, there was a guy dressed up as a shepherd. He was supposed to be like those living statues you find in cities. Except he was creepier. He stopped Dave and shook his hand. He then offered his hand to me. Personally I wanted to run away but I knew it would be rude not to shake his hand so I took his hand and shook it. Only when I went to let go, he didn't. He pulled me close and commanded Dave to take a picture. Dave figured it would be faster if he just took the picture, rather than protesting. He snapped a picture of me looking just about as uncomfortable as any one person can get. Then we walked away, me at a slightly quicker pace.

~On our last full day in Rome, me and Dave went to the Piazza del Popolo. It had a huge obelisk and a pretty fountain. While we were taking pictures of the statues, this guy came up with a bunch of roses. I immediately thought this guy would want some money from us; we'd been routinely accosted by street merchants trying to sell us stuff that were essentially piles of crap. He started to talk to Dave-Dave's a very friendly guy-and he tried to give me two roses. I declined at first. What the hell would I do with roses? He was persistent and shoved the roses into my hand, saying "Italian good luck." I took them, thinking he might not want anything for them. We didn't have money to give him and I didn't really want the roses in the first place. He then quietly asks Dave for a "little something" for the roses. Dave said he didn't have anything. I said he could have his Italian good luck back. He kept hinting at money to Dave and Dave kept saying he didn't have any. Defeated, the guy snatched the roses back and walked away. Yes, snatched. I laughed with Dave. We sat on the fountain watching all these guys with roses strike out with every person they tried to "give" them to. We then talked about how these guys seemed to have large stones, if you will, because they essentially demanded money for things people don't even want in the first place.

~The first night we stayed in our hotel in Rome, I had trouble finding the light switch for the bathroom. I looked and looked but I couldn't find it. There wasn't a window and it was pitch black when the door was closed. I spied a cord that was hanging down hear where the lights were on the wall. I figured that was the light "switch" so I pulled it. There was an awful high pitched piercing noise. I freaked out and promptly pulled it again. The noise stopped. I decided to pee in darkness. When I got back to the room (which was just two doors down from the bathroom) Dave asked me what the noise was. I told him I pulled an unknown cord. The next day I found the light switch (which was located outside the actual room-who does that?!) and I saw there was a sign near the cord advising against pulling it unless it was an emergency. It was a fire alarm.

~One of the nights in Rome we were awoken by an earthquake. I woke up because my bed was shaking. I rolled over and looked at Dave. He said "earthquake" and I nodded and rolled back over and went back to sleep. It's funny how that works because the next morning Dave said the people in the room next to us must have never been in an earthquake before because they were walking up and down the hall all frantic like. I had to laugh at that. I mean, I've been in a earthquake before, not one that I vividly remember. I used to live in California for crying out loud. I guess I learned from my family there what a scary earthquake is supposed to be like. The one in Rome was not scary.

~Our last Italian meal together, me and Dave decided to sit down at a nice little restaurant. We found this little place in an area of Rome that we'd never been to. It was a nice little place and while we were waiting, a cute little kid came with his mom to visit. Apparently the head chef in the kitchen was this little boy's grandma. Adorable. Anyway, we got red wine and two different types of pasta. Freaking delicious. They had real cloth napkins too. Well, after drinking some red wine I wiped my mouth on the white napkin. A slew of purple schmutz came off my lips onto the napkin. I was grossed out and showed Dave. He then tried it too. He also had a bucket of schmutz come off on his napkin. Hilarious.

~One day we decided to walk around all the places of Rome we hadn't seen yet. We walked and walked until we got to this little plaza where two street performers were just beginning their act. They were from Chili (I believe) and they spoke English, Spanish and Italian. They were hilarious! I took a few video clips which I will be putting up soon, I promise. Dave thought they were good enough to give two Euro to. Yes, they were that good.

Links to buckets and buckets of Rome pictures:
www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2359183&id=15933734&l=6068b9481b
www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2359247&id=15933734&l=3f9f0e0439

I suppose the truly last segment of the adventures with Dave is London but I'll be honest, Dave and I weren't really impressed with London. It had a lot to do with the fact that we were tired from traveling (we'd just spent 10 days in Italy!) and it was coldish there. Well much colder than Italy. It was nice but it was also very fast paced. I was over picture taking too but there are some pictures:
www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2359252&id=15933734&l=8a743066d6
One thing to mention: We did stay in a hostel that was a converted courthouse. We stayed in a room that was once a jail cell. It was actually really kind of cool.

Italian Adventures: Milan to Florence

I can't really remember the train ride from Milan to Florence. I do remember waking up early in Milan to make an early train to Florence. I can't tell you anything about the train ride. I'm pretty sure we played more rummy (in which I most likely got my ass whooped) and probably were jovial to each other.

We arrived in Florence and immediately went to the tourist information place so we could get a proper map. We walked down a long ass street to get to the hostel called Plus Florence. It was actually a fabulous little place. A real hostel. I thought "Finally, Dave will get to have a real hostel experience." Well...no that didn't actually happen. Dave is one smart cat and got us a double room with our own bathroom for less than it would have cost each of us to get a shared room. Really, all he did was listen to the lady behind the desk and pounce on the actual deal. After checking in, we decided to walk to the Ufizi, the big museum that houses the Botticellis and various other spectacular, artsy things. We walked along the old building, watching all the street vendors trying to sell drawn portraits or watercolors of the city. We couldn't figure out where the line began or even if the line that was there was the correct one. We decided to jump on the end of the line we saw and hoped for the best. We were sandwiched in between a group of high school students from Spain. At least I'm pretty sure they were from Spain. Their particular brand of Spanish included a bunch of lisp sounds and they had all the sass of Spanish students. David and I listened to their conversations, trying to dust the cobwebs off of the high school Spanish that is stored in our minds. They were loud and the line was long. I began to shift my weight from foot to foot before finally coming to rest leaning on a metal railing. We were close enough to the door to see that no bottles would be allowed. I was still carrying the bottle of wine from Milan and I had lost the cork while we were walking. We had a choice: either down the bottle or throw it out. Dave wasn't about to throw the bottle of wine away. It had just shy of a quarter of the bottle left. So we shared (really Dave drank most of it) the wine and the water I was carrying and threw the bottle away. I smiled at the image of the pair of us: again looking like semi-clean winos. We stood in line forever it seemed. Dave and I shared minimal conversation. We were mostly listening to the Spanish and occasionally Dave's iPod. He played Franz Ferdinand's "Lucid Dreams" for me since we didn't get to hear it in Milan. The line inched closer and closer to the door about every 15 minutes. The British guy behind us checked his watch and cursed. I only remember this because the British guy looked like Guy Pierce but only slightly.

Once we finally got into the museum, I was exhausted from the line. We paid and I started to feel done with the museum after about five rooms of paintings and large groups of people. I heard more American(!) English in the Ufizi than anywhere else which was kind of nice but it mostly felt weird. The Botticelli painting of the Birth of Venus was really amazing. It was bigger than I imagined though really who thinks about the size of the actual painting?

Museums are like time warps so I couldn't tell you how long we actually spent in there BUT I do remember thinking that I was going to die. My legs and back hurt from walking and carrying my small bag with the huge Italy book. I bought a few small trinkets at the museum store and dragged David into a t-shirt store. I eyed the "Ciao Bella Italia" one but didn't buy it. (We went back the next day and I bought it then-It was still there so it must have been meant to be) We decided to eat dinner at the restaurant next to the t-shirt store. Dave ordered the gnocchi with a cheese sauce and I got lasagna.

The details are a little fuzzy as to what we did after that. I think we just went back to the hostel because we were museum exhausted, which we all know is different from regular exhausted. We were tired but really wanted to do other stuff. The room we stayed at was pretty awesome. It had a bunk bed which made me and Dave excited. Who doesn't get excited about bunk beds? I guess people who had bunk beds wouldn't or those who were involved in a horrific bunk bed accident. Dave and I do not fall into either of those categories so we were stoked. I called top bunk (for obviously reasons I think) and realized the whole thing shook like an earthquake when I was getting up there. That only made me a little nervous which must have been obvious because Dave offered to share the bottom bunk with me (it was the size of a double bed), which I declined. Honestly, when would be the next time I would get to sleep on the top bunk in Italy?

The next day we were going to tackle the Science Museum and few sites across the river. The Science Museum was right by the Ufizi. We walked down there taking in the sites. After searching for the entrance of the place for a while without finding it, I made an executive decision to skip it. We decided to walk to the bridge which had a slew of jewelry dealers. On the way there, the sidewalk was tiny, I stepped off for a moment to miss a bucket of yuck on the ground and nearly got hit by a tiny Italian car. Talk about heart attack. Walking across the bridge meant being tempted by tiny vendors selling "I heart Italia" stuff and those awesome bags that said Florence in white or gold lettering. I spied a "I heart Italia" bag as we passed one. Dave noticed and offered to stop. I said no and we kept going. (I did buy it on the way back through though-I have no self restraint) We passed by a bunch of little pizza places and touristy shops. We made our way to this one museum that had a big garden. After seeing the ridiculous price they were charging we decided to get some lunch and sit in the sun, just outside of the gardens. We walked back toward the bridge and got pizzas and two small tortas at this tiny shop. While we were eating, a few guys were playing football (that's soccer for most of you) behind us. We ate quietly, watching a creepy guy take pictures of these girls that were sun bathing. Then, out of no where, the football (soccer ball) came and smacked into my spine. My mouth was full of pizza and so was Dave's. Dave looked at me clearly shocked by the unwarranted bash in the spine and he laughed. The guy came to collect his ball and said "Mi scuzi" which is "excuse me" in Italian. Dave later said that he was going to tell me that I was going to get hit by the ball but his mouth was full of pizza. We then had the most delicious torta I've ever eaten. They were little bundles of vanilla pastry deliciousness.

After that we walked back toward the main part of the city and decided to get gelati at the place my Italy book dubbed "The best gelati in the country." After a flash rain storm, we got directions to Isla de Stinke (I only remember the street because I thought it was hilarious), stopping at a wine shop to get a small bottle of Chianti. We then found the gelati shop; it really was epic. There are no words to describe how good this ice cream was. Suffice it to say that I would buy a plane ticket to Florence for the night just to get it again.

We spent the rest of the day and part of the next day in Florence. I'm having a hard time remembering everything so I'll just tell you the highlight of the next day. We went to a church and looked at all the religious art. I can't remember the name of it now but it had a wall depicting Dante's Inferno. It was one of the things David really wanted to do while we were in Florence. We had a really nice conversation about God and religion and just spent time talking about stuff we never really talked about before. We then bought tickets to Rome and spent an hour waiting for train. We would have done other stuff but I was afraid I would be too tempted to buy more stuff so we hung out at the station just people watching. I did get a smashed one Euro cent that said Firenze (Florence) on it. We bought the slow ticket train ride to Rome because it was cheaper and we spent the next four hours (yea four) sitting across from these two German girls who spoke German, English, and Italian. Impressive thing was they would swear in all three too.

Here the link to the pictures: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2359175&id=15933734&l=c76a423c08

Next stop: Rome

We've Just Hit the 'Pause' Button from the Adventures

Time for a little reflection.

I posted this blog on my myspace page some time ago, under the category of "Life," titled "Jealous is for the birds":

So...I've been thinking about a few things.
One) I'd like to live up to my own expectations and not anyone else's.
Two) I miss my counselor, Reid. I didn't know that I would but I do. I miss talking to him. I wasn't really worried about what he would think about things. I just said them.
Three) I'm tired of being jealous of people I know. Kids whose parents pay for their college and buy them brand new cars. Kids who can travel to Europe four times in a year. It makes me sad because sometimes I burn so fiercely with jealousy. I'd like to be happy with my own life.
Four) I miss just being at home.
Five) How is it that some people don't realize that they suck at being friends with someone? I mean, I bet I do it too (I can't say that I'm better than anyone else) but some people just don't know what it means to be a good friend.
Six) I'd like to let the stupid shit go. I'd like to stop getting upset over things that I can't change or control; things that happened in the past.

Yep...that's all I've got for now.

I looked over that list and for the most part I still feel the same way even though I posted it almost a year ago. I do think that I've make strides of progress in accomplishing some of those things on that list. I've gotten better at letting go the things that I can't change or control. I've started taking responsibility for my choices and the situations I find myself in. I've trimmed the fat, so to speak, off my so called friends list. I still get jealous but only on the days I find myself exhausted from always having to be the one to pull through for myself. But those moments are fleeting because I know that I am never truly alone and I will always have a safety net in the form of my family and close friends. Let's be honest anyway: being the one to pull through for yourself is kind of what life's all about. Seriously, if you can't do it for yourself, who will? Should anyone else?

I learned that I don't know the difference between living the life I live and the sort of life that might seem easier or harder for that matter. I'll never know because this is the life that I live and have chosen to live. I spent a small period of time thinking about what it means to be happy and deciding if the definition I came up with and what I've felt are the same thing. Evidently it was too small of a period of time because I don't know.

Missing just being at home hasn't stopped. In fact, while I always knew that my family was the most important thing in my life, I never realized, until recently, what that actually meant.

I also realized that being in England for such a long time is one of the most exhilarating and frightening things I've ever done in my life. If I can do this, I can do anything. It's sort of like in the movie Fight Club, Edward Norton's character said something along the lines of "Once you've been in a fight, everything else in your life gets the volume turned down." Things have changed for me. Nothing really seems out of reach now. (Okay, I realize that reference might be lost on some of you and others probably won't see the connection. I don't know why but these two ideas just seem to be linked in my head.)

I spent some time thinking about graduation next May (yes friends, I will be graduating college next May. You might be shocked-how do you think I feel?). I'm afraid to graduate college because I don't know what to do next. College is pretty much the last strictly planned out event of my life. The next step is obviously to get a job but there is a lot of wiggle room. I can do anything. The most likely next step is more schooling. I'm really anxious but excited about the idea of baking school (something that's been talked about more and more the past year or so). The only thing I'm really anxious about is money (i.e. paying for it) and moving away (i.e. away from my family). I was thinking about San Francisco (as I'm sure I mentioned) but I just don't dig on cities. To be honest, after baking school I'll just face the same question: what next? That question is enough to make my chest tighten up, my heart to beat uncontrollably, and my breath to quicken. I suppose that's what happens at the ends of things.

I heard (or maybe read?) this quote once: If you're not prepared to look stupid, then nothing great is ever going to happen. I'm working on letting go of fear of looking/feeling stupid. I know I am meant to be great. Maybe not "all of America loves me" great but great enough for my life, my family and friends.

I don't know what's brought on this...whatever it is. I go through it every now again. I'm probably too serious for my own good. I personally blame it on Sheryl Crow and her "I'm leaving the shit behind and having a good time" type of music. At least this time.

I'm off to bed so I can wake up and make peanut butter cookies for my very lovely international friends.

To my beautiful mother and wonderful sister: I have not forgotten Mother's Day. I'm just very Mexican here so your cards will be late. I love and miss you.

To my fabulous brother: I miss watching movies with you. I saw a movie trivia book at this store and I almost bought it so I could quiz you. But I don't have a lot of money and I thought our brains could probably use the memory space for something other than movie trivia. I love you.

Italian Adventures: Venice to Milan

Okay, here is part two of our "Italian Adventure" or "So I Suck, I"m Sorry it's taken Me Ages, Pt.2" (although in reality it's probably what? Part 20?)

Before I begin I have to describe to you the area I am in right now. I'm in my room, it's a modest room with a single bed, desk and wardrobe combo. It's nice. My window is open and the sound of the Beach Boys "I Get Around" is wafting through. Yes, the Beach Boys. Oh these crazy Brits.

Anyway back to the Italian adventures.

You'll have to forgive me, I cannot remember if I wrote about missing the train to Milan or not and I'm way too lazy to check or to really do much editing on this baby. In Venice, due to the whole time change business, me and Dave were an hour late for our train to Milan. We were pissed so we decided to get a bottle of wine and drink from it under the trees on a bench near the train station like a bunch of dirty Italian-esque winos (we are Italian after all, we pulled it off nicely). When we finally got on the train, we sat across from each other and played a competitive game of rummy. I'm sure you won't be surprised to find out that Dave kicked my ass. He later told me it's a little bit easier to play with me because he can anticipate my moves and what cards I want. While he was kicking my ass, a lovely young Italian lady sat down next to Dave. As I was sitting across from her, we'd occasionally catch eyes and smile. After a thorough ass whipping, Dave and I decided to discontinue our game. I don't know how it happened exactly but Dave started to talk to the girl. Her name was Tatiana. She was really nice and spoke decent English. We talked about Milan because she went to school there. We talked about what our plans were for Milan (which pretty much was going to see Franz Ferdinand and find our hotel at that point). She wrote out on a piece of paper her favorite places in Milan for us. Dave then asked her about the squirrel population of Italy. That was quite an interesting turn in topic. I laughed at him (honestly, who asks about that?) but then I had to agree. There really aren't many (if any at all) squirrels in Italy. Once we finally arrived in Milan, we all got off together and she tried to point us in the direction of our hotel. Unfortunately she didn't quite know where it was but she did her best. Then we parted ways.

I, being the keeper of the map, tried to get us to our destination in a timely fashion. Our bags were heavy and we still had to find the venue for the Franz concert. Well, we started walking off in the wrong direction, mostly because street signs like to do a vanishing act in Italy. I quickly realized the error though and we got going in the right way. It took us a while to find the place and I got snippy with Dave. He kept commenting on all the nice cars (yes, they were nice-audis and BMWs and what not) and I was frustrated because our map was what can only be described as inadequate. We managed to get to the street that our hotel was supposed to be on. We found a door that was locked that was supposed to lead to the hotel. Next to it was a panel of buttons, most with residences and one with our hotel name. Me and Dave exchanged dubious glances and Dave pressed the button. The door unlocked and we wandered through, still unsure of where the hotel actually was. The door opened up to a courtyard. This place was apparently an apartment structure with a hotel stuffed in the rear. We found the stairs to the hotel and entered. I told the guy at the desk, who evidently lived just to the right of the front desk in a small room, that we had a reservation. He took our passports (to copy records and the like from) and gave us the key. He told us to get settled and come back in three minutes to get our passports back. We opened our door and were greeted with a decent sized room with two dressers, one bed and a bathroom. We were happy enough with it. After the check in process was complete, we asked for a map (thankfully it was a decent one) and asked where the Franz Ferdinand concert was. He looked up the name on his computer (which was a generous touch, he could have said "I don't know. Fuck off."), found it on the map and told us how to get there. We had booked two nights in Milan, one full day and two half days, so we opted to get the three day metro pass. Milan has a fabulous metro system. Easy to understand and speedy as all hell. We got to the Franz concert in like 30 minutes and got our tickets. It was a mob of Italians, all speaking Italian. Me and Dave just stood near each other, occasionally speaking but mostly just observing, waiting for the opening band. It seemed to take ages. While we were waiting, I had this awful realization. We were standing next to a group of Italians, one guy with his hair up. I was (creepily) watching them and they must of have said something to this guy about how long his hair was getting because he took his hair tie out and let it all loose. I watched in horror as his gloriously beautiful, long hair tumbled down. I turned to Dave and said "Italian men have better hair than I do." Dave looked, smiled and nodded his head. My hair is at best a frizzy mess. These Italian men had shiny, soft (looking-I did not touch any) hair that shamed the rat's nest on top of my head.

Finally the band came out. Dave looked at me in surprise. "No opening band?" Evidently we got there just in time to miss the (most likely) lame Italian opening band and were just going to catch the top bananas-Franz Ferdinand. Everyone pushed forward as the band began their opening chords to "Dark of the Matinee."It took me back to the summer I listened to their self titled CD exclusively. I was 17 and volunteering at the VA hospital. I still remembered most of the words but I was hearing it in a whole new way. Italian accented English voices were shouting the lyrics all around me.

Now, it's been a really long time since I went to a huge concert like that. The last one I remember going to that had more than say 60 people was Regina Spektor almost two years ago. I'm used to small bar, local scene type of venues. So being constantly jostled by all the dancing Italian bodies that were pretty much uncomfortably close to me was off putting. But when the group of kids near me decided to start moshing, that was a whole new thing. I've seen moshing before, I've just never been that close. I was being pushed every other second. I kept looking at the girl that was being shoved into me with apologetic eyes but she understood and kept on singing along. Then, on top of the moshing and constant jostling, a girl and her boyfriend danced up to my left. No big deal until she stepped on my foot three times and slammed her elbow into my forearm with enough force to give me a visible bruise the next day. So I started to do what I like to call "defensive dancing." Basically I poked my elbow out a little more than is polite and made some sharp movements. After contact was made, not just with my elbow but also my shoulder, she stepped off to the left a little more. I smiled at my victory and was immediately shoved forward by the moshers. Honestly, who moshes to Franz Ferdinand?! I thought as I righted myself and tried to get back into the music. Franz finished their first set and walked off stage. Everyone was clapping and shouting so they came back for their encore. I looked at Dave. I was tired and the whole experience, while being amazing and definitely one of a kind, made me really uncomfortable. Dave said we could leave unless they started to play the song "Lucid Dreams" which was his favorite off the new album. Lucky for me, they played Jacqueline, the opening song from their self-titled CD. Dave firmly clasped my hand and we pushed our way through the crowd, dodging moshers and drunken idiots on the way out. We finally reached fresh air and we spent a moment letting our ears adjust to normal volumes. Outside there were tables and tables of Franz souvenir shirts, etc. I glanced at them, trying to decide if it was worth it to buy something to commemorate this experience. An older Italian gentleman motioned to us and started talking in Italian. Dave told him we only spoke English. He only spoke Italian. At first he looked defeated but the scent of a possible sell made him press on. Using hand signals and very broken English he told me the prices of the t-shirts and hoodies. "Diece euros" he said, pointing to the t-shirts. Venticinque euros for the hoodies. My Spanish days kicked in. 10 euros for the shirts, 25 for the hoodies. Then he threw me a curve ball, 30 for both. I held my breath and looked at Dave. "It's up to you," he said. I weighed my options quickly and bought a green Franz Ferdinand t-shirt. We thanked the man and walked off. "He almost had you with that 'deal,'" Dave said.

It was very late by the time we got back to the area our hotel was. We were hungry but couldnt find any place that was open. We walked into this little restaurant that had all the lights on but evidently was closed. Dave asked if he could buy a bottle of water, he later told me that he would have died without that water. The lady let us buy a bottle of water, despite not knowing a word of English. We thanked them (in Italian) and left. We decided that we were too tired and it would be best to go back to the hotel and sleep.

The next day we decided to find some of the places that Tatiana (the girl from the train) wrote down for us. I'm not going to go into detail about the day. Here are some of the highlights: We took the metro in the direction of destination number one (the name of which escapes me), ended up at a supermarket where we bought water (another lifesaving bottle) and walked to a closed restaurant that let us sit down if we would wait 10 minutes for them to officially open. No one but one guy spoke English and because we didn't speak Italian we have no idea what they said about us as "Americanos." We walked to a park and spent a few minutes sitting on a bench reflecting on how much we weren't enjoying Milan. Then we walked to a castle and were accosted by a group of African who were "giving away" bracelets. I don't know how many times I said "No grazie" to this guy and tried to follow Dave away from them. Dave got caught up one and got a bracelet tied to his wrist. As I waited, the guy who was trying so desperately to give me one tied a bracelet around my wrist. I knew they'd want some kind of money for it and I didn't have any. The guy that was talking to Dave was all about Obama. He turned to me and smiled. "Is this your wife?" he asked Dave. "No, my sister" "Oh she is very beautiful" and then he asked me if I loved him. I just smiled and looked away. After giving them some money "for the orphans in Africa" we managed to get away.


We went to a square and saw the Italian TRL being filmed.
There was a huge crowd and a big screen that was airing the show. After watching the crowd for a bit, me and Dave walked away and talked about how Milan is like the Italian New York. Then we tried to figure out the degrees in Fahrenheit. We both knew the Celsius to Fahrenheit equation but it took about 20 minutes to work it out properly. While walking around, we met another African who talked to us about the orphans in Africa. We told him we already gave money earlier in the day. He started talking to Dave about exchange rates and the "economic crisis." Then he looked at me and asked "Is this your wife?" No, I'm his sister. "Oh! I'll trade you 10 goats for her like we do back in Senegal. Ha! Ha! Ha!" Yes, David was offered 10 goats for me. I still don't know if I'm supposed to be flattered by that.

After being really unimpressed and underwhelmed by Milan, we decided to get some food and go back to the hotel. We were going to leave for Florence early the next morning.

Here's the link to the rest of the Milan pictures: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2359174&id=15933734&l=2a65ab760d
Next stop: Florence.

Italian Adventures: London to Venice

Oh my goodness. It's been years and I apologize for that. Blogging took a backseat to essays and traveling and, of course, rest and relaxation. Although I guess you'd think blogging and rest and relaxation would go hand in hand. Go figure.

Anyway, let's get the story telling started. This will be a several part series because I like to draw the excitement out for you all. Besides, I'll be more likely to come back and blog if I have something to say.

March 27: I went to Manchester with my friend Alyssa and her little sister, Steph. The plan was to go out to the Birdcage that night and I would get up early to meet up with Dave at the train station after his flight got in. We went out, all dressed up and enjoyed a night of drag queens lip syncing to famous songs like ABBA's Dancing Queen and to Dream Girls. Oh and lot of dancing happened. It was a great time.

March 28: Woke up early (before 7!) and got ready to walk to the train station. Called Dave on his cell phone to make sure he got on a train. After waiting what seemed like seventeen hours in the train station, Dave arrived. It was really nice to see him. We walked around Manchester for a bit because our train to London wasn't for a while. Once we finally got on the train, we talked about his flight and I started to freak out about flying. I felt nauseous on the train, which has never happened before. We finally got to London and took the Tube to the station we needed to be at to take the train to the Stansted airport. We spent a few hours walking around London without a decent map, just wandering. We ate the food I packed for us (salami and cheese sandwiches) and decided to catch the train to the airport to check in. We spent the next two hours at the airport playing rummy, which Dave kicked my ass at. The flight was okay except we were with a bunch of Italian teenagers who screamed during take-off when a bit of turbulence made the plane jerk. Dave had passed out, unfortunately, and he woke up because of the screams. But then he promptly passed out again, which made me slightly sad because I was hoping to have a freak out companion. Everything ended up okay. The Italian customs just glanced at me and stamped my passport and let us go. We were in Treviso, a small city just outside of Venice. We took a bus to Venice where it was raining. I had remembered my umbrella and meant to pack one for Dave too (because he was unfamiliar with the whole England=rainy thing) but my backpack was barely big enough for my stuff. Luckily(?) there were guys selling umbrellas on the streets. Clever actually. They wanted 5 euro for it but Dave haggled them down to 3, with some careful lying. We asked for directions to our hotel and trudged through the rain. After we found it and got settled, it was getting pretty late but despite that and the rain we decided to take a short walk to get a few night pictures of the canal.




Then we went back to the hotel, which was down a slightly shady alleyway, to pass out.

March 29: Our first full day in Italy. It was still raining but we didn't let that deter us from seeing things. We got a fabulous map from the front desk of our hotel and we set out after a delicious breakfast that the hotel provided. We wandered just trying to get our barrings in the city. We decided to buy a waterbus pass and we spent a ridiculous amount of time trying to figure out how to validate the ticket at the waterbus stop. We took a trip down the canal and out to the open sea. When we got off we were near the hospital. We saw the ambulance boats. It was weird to think about but it made sense. What's the fastest way to get to an accident? Through the crazy maze of streets? Definitely not.




It rained all day but we walked all over the place. We found a little restaurant where we ate a late lunch. I had a pizza and Dave ate a fish. It had a face!!



After we wandered for a bit longer, we were tired of being soaking wet so we went back to the hotel to dry off. Our shoes were really wet and mine smelled God awful. They smelled like a dirty foot before (I've had these shoes for easily three years) but after a day walking in the rain, David said they started to smell like a corpse. We took a short nap and I decided I was hungry and wanted to go out to get a piece of pizza from the shop that was just down the alleyway from our hotel. We went down to the front desk to leave and there was a few Brits there, drying their feet. They told us the canal was flooded with about six inches of water. So we walked down the opposite way, hoping to find a way to the main street but there was water blocking our way. So instead of eating, we went back to the hotel and went to bed.

March 30: It finally stopped raining. We ate breakfast and checked out of our hotel and carted our bags around Venice. There were only a few places we really wanted to see because we went all over the place the day before. We went to San Marco piazza and saw all the beautiful architecture.



We decided to go to a museum (the name of which escapes me now) where we played a little game of "pick your favorite painting." It was a bunch of religious art so I had a bit of trouble choosing. We got some lunch at a take away calzone place and walked toward the train station. We had our first taste of gelato and sat in front of the station waiting for our train. We thought we had an hour to wait and we were tired of carrying our heavy bags around so we thought we'd just sit on the steps and enjoy the (finally) nice weather. When it was getting close to the time our train was to leave, we went inside to see what platform our train was on. We found out that Italy had their daylight savings time change and we were an hour late. We were a little miffed but they let us trade our tickets for a different train at no extra charge. We decided to get a bottle of wine to help soothe our feelings of idiocy and anger. We didn't have glasses so we drank from the bottle like a bunch of winos on the bench in front of the train station.

Here's the link to the rest of the Venice pictures:
www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2357925&id=15933734&l=2741889711

Next stop on our Italian adventure: Milan.

Procrastination

So I've got a lot of work to do. It's actually not even close to being funny how much stuff needs to be done before Friday but I need a minute to collect my thoughts and I figured I haven't posted in easily two weeks, so I'll collect here with you all.

I've got two essays to finish up by Friday at 3. Sheesh. School is lame.
St. Patrick's Day today. I don't have time to give the day it's due diligence but we're going to have a drink somewhere tonight because I do need a drink after the past four days I've had. I had writing constipation and couldn't get my history essay to come out. It was like trying to pull an elephant with floss. I've gotten most of the work done but I had to stop or else I would start stalking the halls with a sawed off shotgun. Luckily, my friend told me to just take a step back and come back to it later. So that's what I'm doing.

Other than that, on Friday I'm heading into Manchester to spend the weekend with Danielle. Her boyfriend is flying out to China that day and then her mom is flying in on the Sunday so she decided to spend the weekend in Manchester to collect her mom and I'm tagging along so she isn't alone. We're actually spending a day in York which should be really nice. I'm looking forward to just doing nothing. The weather is finally starting to feel like something other than shit winter. It's 50 degrees today! The sun is actually hanging around and isn't getting muscled out by clouds.

After this weekend there will only be one week until Dave comes and we jet set out to Italy! I'm so excited to have him here. I can't even say. And in Italy no less. I'm not even worried about the flight (though that could be due to the fact that I don't have the brain capacity to worry about my essays AND a flight over a week away). But still, I'm taking it as a good sign. I've decided I'll have next week to worry about class work for the summer term (I've got an essay due the first week back) and then I'll be carefree with Dave for two weeks before coming back and having a serious sit down with some Modernist literature.

Anyway, I've got to get back to work (even if my head is threatening to explode). I miss you all so much. I didn't realize it until people's friends and family started to show up (Danielle's boyfriend's here and Alyssa's sister is coming soon).

Bathing in History

I spent the weekend in Bath and Stonehenge with a few other International friends of mine. It was a fantastic weekend for the most part. Bath is a beautiful city that has been featured in many films so you may have already seen Bath and not even known it! It has most recently been in The Dutchess with Keira Knightly and Ralph Fiennes. I saw it on the plane ride over here ironically enough. Most of the buildings are made from this beautiful, honey colored stone. Other than the beautiful architecture, the claim to fame for Bath is the Roman baths. Yes, Roman my friends. I saw some amazing Roman ruins. The baths are naturally occurring hot springs. The water was wonderfully warm. I didn't get into the baths (there was a sign that said the water wasn't safe to touch, let along drink-Yikes!) but I did dip my fingers in the water like a rebel.




After the Roman baths, we saw the Fashion Museum where all the pretty clothes from past decades are housed. I wanted to steal the dresses from 1925 and 1945 but I didn't. I did learn two things though: 1) Queen Victoria was a short and stout woman. 2) One should never underestimate the creepiness of mannequins. Especially in clothes from the 1980s.

Stonehenge was amazing. Lots of people have said to me, "What's the big deal? It's just a bunch of rocks." On the one hand, yes it's just rocks. But really it's more than that. The big question has always been how did they get there. The rocks were from a quarry in Wales, several hundred miles away. As Eddie Izzard joked from the perspective of someone in that time period, "Two hundred miles? I don't even know where I live anymore!" Funny but potentially true.

Really though, that's not even the best part of Stonehenge. Sure the mystery adds to it all. Mostly though, it's just the atmosphere of the whole place. It was beautiful in a sense that I've never experienced before. Stonehenge is surrounded by plains, a few roads, a car park for all the visitors, and sheep of course. Despite all this and all the people, standing up on the hill with Stonehenge, I felt completely overcome by nature. The air smelled clean for once, like the ways I've always imagined it would be. I mean, sure I've gotten glimpses of clean air before, but it's always fleeting because a big SUV just rumbled past filling the air with exhaust or Smokey McGee just walked in front of me. At Stonehenge, everything had a level a quiet to it that I've never experienced. It could have been because there was so much wind I just couldn't hear everyone else around me properly but whatever the case, it was definitely an experience.

Beyond that, I've just been thinking/beginning to conceptualize my essays that are due in two weeks. I was in my seminar today, talking about D.H Lawrence (actually I was listening to others talk about him) and I had a sort of epiphany if you will. My seminar leader kept referring to "Lawrentian ideals and conventions." It used to be my dream that I would be a good enough writer to be taught and discussed at universities around the world. Now, not only does it seem completely implausible to happen, I wouldn't want it that way. I've discovered, in a very sad but unfortunately honest way, that my time at Mizzou/in university has stifled my desire to be a writer. I still enjoy reading and writing but I don't desire to "write the next best American novel" or something that will define the period of literature that we are currently in. I don't know if it's because I doubt my abilities or if I'm just too practical now for these illusions of grandeur; whatever the reason, I'm not into it anymore. Like I mentioned in my last post, I'm thinking about baking school. I'm interested in baking as a method to make others and, by proxy, myself happy in a completely different sense. I think it is a much more immediate sense of happiness. I will have something tangible to hold on to as evidence of my success. But perhaps more importantly, I will have the intangible as well. I can't think of a more simple kind of happiness than when someone enjoys a baked good.

I don't know where all this is coming from. It's just something I'm beginning to feel. Who knows if I'm just talking a bunch of crap to somehow elevate the role of a baker in our society. Maybe I'm just spouting all this off to make myself feel better about the death of my oldest dream. No, that is too strong of a sentiment. I can't say that it's dead. In fact, it's foolish to even think so. I still want to write something worth while. Maybe I'm just realizing that my prose probably won't be on par with people like D.H. Lawrence or James Joyce. I don't know whether that's okay or not. I'm going to say it is.

Sesame Seeds: Not Just for Buns

So it's been ages. I apologize. I've been lazying about, wallowing in my own self pity at times but for the most part, just enjoying myself as I pretend to be British. This pseudo-British thing is working out alright for me. I even get an accent when I drink a little. Or when I'm feeling a little less than American. Sometimes I get super American and proclaim things to be done the 'Merican way and what not (Yes, the 'a' has been silenced). But then oddly enough I get a Russian accent. Who knows.

I am going to prove myself to be a real MexiCAN this weekend. We're having a flat dinner on Valentine's Day with all the single girls (and I think one boy because he whined about not being invited) and they all voted to have Mexican food. Then they promptly looked to me for suggestions, as I am the only real Mexican in the flat. So I'm making tacos and refried beans from scratch because having them in cans is asking too much in Britain. As it is, if you want to cook anything remotely Mexican, it is sold in a kit. Want enchiladas? Here, buy this kit. Want quesidillas? Here's a kit. I hope they sell cumin at the grocery store. I almost bought pinto beans to make refried beans myself last week but then decided I was too lazy to make them. If that's not being a real MexiCAN, I don't know what is.

I am excited for this weekend though. I really do enjoy the kids in my flat and this past week things have been getting more comfortable with the ol' living situation. Not that it was really ever "uncomfortable." Either way, it's nice to have a big flat party of sorts. There's even talk of an ice cream sundae bar. Watch out!

I found bagels at the grocery store like two weeks ago and I've gone bagel crazy. There have only been two kinds: sesame and cinnamon raisin so I've been eating sesame bagels. They're actually quite delicious. I was talking to Alyssa and Kate (Aussie flat mates) and they both thought bagels were gross because they were so sweet. I was utterly confused. Sweet bagels? I guess they do make them that way but I'm more of a plain/sun dried tomato kind of girl myself. I definitely wouldn't call those sweet. I felt like bagels have gotten the shaft as far as Australia is concerned. Then I realized the reason I like bagels so much is because I really like cream cheese and a bagel is the best/suitable way to get cream cheese into my mouth. So really, bagels are just a means to an end. But I guess that suits them just fine.

I tell you what though. I certainly do miss my 305 girls. I definitely don't mean to wish my time away here but there has been massive planning already in motion for when I get home. Birthday celebrations, 48 hours of Mayhem, trips to KC, and just general calamity because finally, after a year apart, Genochio and McDermott-Kelty shall be reunited. Yes a YEAR! Insane, no? I can't believe it either. Many a late night catching up shall be spent as I regale Becca and Jacquie with stories/pictures of my adventures and vice versa. It'll be very exciting times.

I've been thinking about returning home, probably too much. I realized that I'll be home for maybe a month working and whatnot and then I'll have to leave again, for my home in Columbia. I feel bad for my mom. I mean, six months is ages to not be home once and then I'll be there (but probably not always-those crazy Blue Springs kids will tear me away most likely) for a short while before I leave all over again. It just makes me think of the future. What will I do in a year after graduation? How will I cope then? Things have been going along swimmingly, mind you, but some days there are times when I can be found in bed, not always crying but occasionally so.

I think I've decided to try to get into the San Francisco Baking Institute or some place like that after graduation. I will learn the tricks of the baking trade, possibly study in France for a bit (they have an exchange program) and once that's over with, maybe work in a bakery. The more I think about it, the more I think that's what I should do. I guess we'll see how I feel in the next year. I mean, I really do have a full year before I graduate anyway. It's crazy to think that I'm only a year out from getting my degree. It used to seem like it would take forever to finish school. Now I'm nearly done. It's like it's finally time to actually grow up. Scary.

Speaking of crazy things, I just realized that most of my flat mates (other than the internationals) were born in 1990. That just blows my mind. I know they're only like 18/19 which is just a few years younger than me but when I think 1990 I just imagine wee babies, not 18 year olds. It makes me feel old which is totally odd. I told my flat mate Tom that I was old one day and he laughed at me. I said it because my knee was hurting. I'm only 21, nothing should be hurting yet! I have just begun to damage my liver, the rest of my body is supposed to hold for a while! Sheesh.

Anyway, big weekend this weekend, what with the dinner and I'm planning on spending two days and one night in Manchester. I'll post pictures (maybe another video?) soon.

Has It Really Been a Month?

Holy monkeys it's February.

With that said, I've got to say this: bloody Americans and their need to change things! I just found out that the first Harry Potter was originally called (and is still called in every place BUT America) Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone.
Yes, I watched the first Harry Potter and yes, I was completely aghast when Hermione talked about the "Philosopher's stone" instead of the Sorcerer's stone. That means that they had to refilm the bits where the name of the stone is actually mentioned because the American title is different. It couldn't have been redubbed because certainly we would have noticed the lips not matching up with the words. Can you imagine how costly the reshooting must have been? I'm mildly outraged and embarrassed that America has to have things done in a different way. For example, we've got Fahrenheit instead of Celsius, gallons instead of liters; words are missing their u's and have z's instead of s's. I mean honestly.

On a more personal note, 9 am suddenly feels like the crack of dawn to me. All of a sudden it's hard to be clean and ready for a lecture at 10, never mind actually being clean/ready for one at 9. I don't know what the deal is. I've had 8 am classes everyday for a full semester before and that wasn't a big deal. I barely missed a class and it only became really hard in the winter when the heat in my room was a joke and getting out of my blankets meant losing all the heat I'd stored while sleeping. Now I'm waking up at 8:45 cursing myself while scrambling to swipe my toothbrush over my teeth once while throwing my (crazed) hair into a pony tail before pulling on the nearest pair of pants and shoes. Some days I only have time to grab a stick of gum (read: no teeth brushing!) and pull on a (mostly) dirty hoodie. Either way, the differences are strange.

I can't believe it's already been a month since I've been here. What's even crazier is that there is only two months before Dave (read: my amazing brother) comes out to see me and we embark on a fantastic trip to Italy. Crazy. Still crazier than that is I have recently found out that my roommate Becca (who is doing a summer course in Italy) will be here the same time I am. Seriously. It seems like a wonderful opportunity to visit her while she's studying and vice versa. Very exciting times.

Sorry it's been ages since I've posted anything. Most days I'm preoccupied with thinking about doing my homework but not actually accomplishing much. That's got to change though because things are going to pick up soon. It'll be week 10 before I know it and my essay will be due. Bleh. But you all should know that I'm doing well and I'm branching out in my cooking ability. It has (always) been easiest to buy/make pasta because it's cheap and delicious. Well, I'm eating more fruits and vegetables and I've taken to making myself chicken stir fry, which is something I've never made at the 305 (read: my apartment in Columbia).

But yes, I hope you all enjoyed the Liverpool video. I'm off to bed because it's nearly 2 am and I'm supposed to be up at a (semi) decent hour to help make/help eat pancakes.

*EDIT*
It has come to my attention that I've made a glaring mistake. I live with 9 first year Brits (5 boys and 4 girls). I forgot about one girl because I never really see her. She's always with her boyfriend. She's lovely though and her and her boyfriend usually cook together which is both cute and sickening, but mostly cute. She even gave me some of her juice when a bunch of drunks stole mine (now that is a long story to be told at another time). I just realized it because I was looking back over my posts (by the way, I'm talking about the post "A Meditation on Culture" when I describe my living situation).

I am a Traveler of Both Time and Space

Hello my fantastic blog readers!

So it's been ages since I've put anything up and for that I apologize. I had a busy weekend last weekend. I spent the day in Liverpool on Saturday and went out with my flat mates on Saturday night. What a great time. I met some cool people.

We went to Liverpool via train. It was about an hour and a half ride. I traveled with 8 other girls, two from my flat, two others from my college and four that were other internationals that we had the pleasure of meeting. On the way down there, I very nearly had myself a P.S. I Love You moment. There was this really attractive British man who I sat across from on the train. He was really friendly. We talked about what he likes about America and what I like about Britain. Sadly, he left at the stop after I got on so that was a very short lived moment. But I had one nonetheless. We had to change trains at one place, the name of which escapes me now, but after that we journeyed on toward Liverpool. Once we got there, we found maps and I tried to use the bathroom but it cost 30 pence! I said hell no and we all pondered in amazement the consequences of having to pay for a public toilet. From there we walked down the street to find Liverpool Cathedral, which had beautiful stained glass windows. I bought some cheap postcards and took pictures. Then we walked down to Albert Dock to grab some cheap lunch and see The Beatles Story, a museum dedicated to The Beatles. I decided I was too cheap to actually take the tour so I bought some small souvenirs for my family and friends at one of the shops on the dock. From there we walked to the shopping district and fought crowds to get good deals at this place called Primark. I only bought socks because I didn't feel like doing laundry to wash my socks (wow, I know). After that it was getting kind of late, some girls left for Lancaster while others, myself included, continued to shop and decided to find some cheap dinner (less than four pounds for a burger, fries and a drink!). Then we went back to good ol' Lancaster.
That night, Danielle and I decided to join our lovely flat mates and a few of their friends out to a pub called the Friary. They were going to go to a club called the Sugarhouse which we didn't really feel like going to because you had to pay to get in. Well, after two cheap pitchers of Grolsch beer, we decided that these chaps we were hanging out with were fantastic so we went to Sugarhouse. A few more beers and lots of dancing later, we finally made out way back to the flat at 4 in the morning. But first we had to get some food at the only place on campus that was open: Sultans, which is like a curry place but they also sell fries and garlic bread. So I made Withers (one of my flat mates' friends who is quite fun to have around) order fries and garlic bread (which I paid for). Well, they gave away my garlic bread to someone else so I made them a (drunken) deal: I'd pay them 25 pence for the cheesy fries that were ready, instead of waiting for more garlic bread. They jumped at it and I had myself some delicious cheesy fries, which I shared with all the drunks at my table (don't worry, I knew them all). I got Dave (another friend of a flat mate, also fantastic) to explain the game of cricket, after Withers failed miserably. I don't quite understand it now but at the time it made perfect sense. After arriving at the flat, I had a conversation in Spanish, which was weird because I understood this guy perfectly but I couldn't formulate any Spanish words back so I answered in English. After that I came into my room and (for whatever reason) decided to get on Skype where Jacquie, Becca, Katie, and John (friends from CoMo) were on and got to see my ridiculous drunken antics. Good times.

But yes, I have made a short video of my times at Liverpool. Also I'll be posting pictures soon enough.


Music used:
Polythene Pam by The Beatles
Magical Mystery Tour by The Beatles

A Meditation on Culture

I've gotten a lot of questions about how the food is and things like that so I'm going to do my best to 1)remember what you have asked and 2) answer those questions. :)

Food:
The only thing I've eaten that was "different"/English was bangers and mash. Bangers and mash is sausage and mashed potatoes with gravy. Holy crap, it was delicious. I haven't had fish and chips but I'm not really into fried fish. I will eat it eventually I promise. Other than that, Coke tastes a little weird but after a while, I stop noticing it. Ketchup is different too (if you know anything about me, you know how much I like ketchup). It has a different taste (though not so different I couldn't eat it) and it's got a slightly different color. Once I ate it all, the dribbles left on the plate were pink! The fries are called chips and the chips are called crisps. Crackers are savory biscuits. Cookies are biscuits as well. Kebabs are really big too apparently, though I haven't had one yet. There are a bunch of interesting candies/chocolates. Cadbury is everywhere and it's not too terribly expensive either. The fruit is very cheap which makes me happy. I bought a bunch of clementines for about 99 pence (a little over a dollar) and a bunch of blue berries and kiwi for a pound (again, a little over a dollar). There are lots of things called "bakes" which is basically like a hand held pot pie. I've had a chicken bake and it was quite good.

Alcohol:
I haven't sampled too much yet but I did order a Newcastle beer at one of the bars on campus. It was HUGE! I couldn't believe it. It was a pint and a half (24 ounces/3 cups) and yes, I drank it all. I've only had one other beer here and it was Carlsberg. It was decent enough. This drink called VK Orange is pretty popular. It's vodka and orange flavoring, similar to smirnoff ice but very sugary. I had one and a half and got a stomach ache.

Classes:
There are lectures and seminars, just like back home but I'm spending a lot less time in class. I only have 10 hours of class time and I don't have such a set schedule like I did at Mizzou (only one lecture and seminar per class-except my linguistics class has two lectures). Other than that, things are pretty much the same. School is school. I don't have as many things to be graded. In fact, there is only one exam or paper in each course I have. That sounds great doesn't it? Well, if I do poorly on that one thing, there goes my entire grade for the course. Either way, it's not so bad.

Accommodation:
I live in a flat (it's just half of a floor on a building) with three other international girls (two Australians and one other American) and 8 first year Brits (5 guys-three of which are named James-and 3 girls). They're all 18/19 years old. They like to go out and drink and they go out nearly every night of the week. They're good kids though. I like them well enough. I live alone in my own room (as you saw in the video). It's nice. I share a bathroom and a kitchen with the rest of the flat.
Cooking is a bit awkward but only because I don't have any of my own pots. I don't really see the point in buying them (though I did buy a cup/bowl for 20 pence at the Charity Shop). My flat mates are very nice and said that it wouldn't be a problem for me to use their pots/pans if I clean them. And I always wash up directly after using it.

People:
I haven't seen too many people with bad teeth, which is something I've gotten asked. I did see a woman on the bus that did. Yikes. Quite the overbite as well. Other than that, people are nice. I'm having an internet problem right now. I haven't been able to connect to the internet from my room. Anyway, I've had a lot of help from the computer people and they were very lovely. At the end of the each telephone conversation I had with this one guy he said, "Thank you! Cheers! Bye now!" It made me smile each time even though they still couldn't figure out why my internet wasn't working.

Accent:
There is a difference between those from the north and those from the south. I can hear the difference but I don't know which is which. Either way, it's an accent, something different than what I'm used to and of course I love it. I have started to get a bit of an accent which makes me feel like a poser but mostly I can't believe it. It's been 9 days! But I guess that's to be expected. I love England (without any real reason behind it) and I've been jealous of the accent for years.
Though sometimes when I watch those crazy Brits speak, it's like their tongue does some weird thing. I can't explain it. It's not like a lisp or anything...I don't know.

Climate:
It's not really super cold or dry here. It's like those days in late fall/early spring where it's cold-ish and it rains, not pouring rain just the really annoying light rain. The kind that you don't really need an umbrella for but it's so annoying in your eyes that you want to put one up even if makes you look like a fool. It's not so bad though. On the days it doesn't rain, and it isn't cold, it's nice.

Nights Out:
I've only been out once. I went to a club with my flat mates on Monday night (yes, Monday! I was shocked as well). I've never been to a club before really. I frequent bars, especially when there is a band (i.e. The Blue Fugue) but never really clubs. I'm not really into dancing. Anyway, the music was...I guess I'd say electro with some dance clubbed out 90s American music. Like "Rhythm is a Dancer" and that one song that was on Jock Jams...I don't remember what it was called. But yea, I laughed a lot that night. And I danced after quite a few drinks.
When I went out to Fylde Bar (it's one of the nine bars on campus-each college has their own bar), I bought a Newcastle because it was the only beer that I was familiar with. I didn't realize how huge the bottle was. I was surprised but glad; it was sort of expensive. I drank it all like a greedy pig and was a bit drunk afterward. But that ended up being good because I talked more to the kids around me (other international students).

Anyway, that's as far as I've meditated. I'll post more later once I've experienced more things. My flat mates are trying to get me to go to Liverpool for the day on Saturday. I haven't decided yet. I'd like to but I haven't been able to get online to see my balance on my bank's website. But yes, things are going well.

*EDIT*
Good grief. I promise to do more proof reading the next time around. I think I repeated myself several times/had numerous grammatical and spelling errors. Poor showing for an English major. But yes, more proof reading in future posts, I promise.

VIDEO!

Finally got the video to work. I hope you like it. I'm working on other videos (of Lancaster/the Lake District/sheep) and I'll get them to you when I can.

In this video you will find: a short clip of the planes and train I was on and also a bit of my room.

I promise I'll be posting a longer piece soon.

*EDIT*
Sorry the writing is so tiny! I didn't realize it would be that small. Here's a transcript of the writing I put in the video:
Title: Planes and Trains: The Way I Got to England featuring Continental Airways and the British Railway System
KC-New Jersey: The world's tiniest plane. I was upset.
KC to New Jersey in flight snack.
NJ-Manchester: In flight dinner
En route to Lancaster
My Lancaster dorm room
I made it to Lancaster in one piece. The first flight was unpleasant. The second one was better. I like my room well enough though. So far things are going well. I miss you loads.


Oh and here's a bit of technical information about my travels/the video:

My flights/train ride from KC to Newark, NJ to Manchester, to Lancaster, England
Flight One-KC to Newark (approx. 2 hours)
Flight Two- Newark to Manchester (approx. 7 hours)
Train- Manchester to Lancaster (approx. 1 hour 15 minutes)
My flights were pretty good. The first flight was on a terribly small plane but I managed to make it.
The second flight provided two meals: dinner and breakfast. The dinner was chicken pasta with vegetables. The breakfast was a croissant roll with fruit. I got to watch two movies and an episode of House. There were monitors on the back of the seats in front of you.
The train sounds are artificial. I found a sound bite on my computer of a steam train. I didn't actually go on a steam train.

Music used:
Come Fly With Me by Michael Buble
Waterloo Sunset by The Kinks

New Stuff

Hey guys

I spent the day at the Lake District in England. It was beautiful. Rainy and cold but mostly beautiful. I took pictures (not too many) but I decided to make a Flickr account in order to share more pictures with you. So I added some photos from Lancaster (including the ones from the Burnt Toast entry) and some photos of the trip today. Take a look.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/fallingintoreverie

I'm still working on uploading the video I made. I've got a few short videos of the lake and the sheep that I'll post later. Now I've got to read a load before class tomorrow.

Burnt Toast

I burned toast in the kitchen today. I feel like an idiot. It smelled God awful. The smell was so bad that I had to take a shower because the smokey smell was in my hair. I wrote a note and put it in the kitchen explaining to terrible smell and how I was sorry. Maybe that's too much but I don't want to start off on the wrong foot with people. I have never burned toast in my life and this toast burning was something akin to the Salem witch burning, if you know what I mean. I'm glad there aren't many people around yet but good grief.

Here are a few pictures:



This is the castle! that is in Lancaster. It's currently used as a prison. A low security prison, don't worry.









This is a statue that was donated by...I can't remember who but it's of Queen Elizabeth. There are a bunch of famous Brits around the base, like Charles Darwin, etc.










This is the oldest building in Lancaster. I can't remember how old it is now.









My new Lancaster University hoodie. I love it; although it does smell vaguely of mustard...










The British flag on top of the City Hall. Expecting to see an American one?







Some British money. From left to right, top to bottom row: Two pounds, one pound, fifty pence, twenty pence, ten pence, five pence, two pence (Remember "tuppence" from Mary Poppins?), one penny. It's weird that one pound and two pounds are change. When I get change back I always think I'm getting gipped.






Here is a ten pound note. It's bigger than an American dollar. The smallest note is five pounds.

Sheep?

It smells like sheep here.
....Yes, sheep. I dont' know why exactly though I did see some sheep in a field on the drive up to the campus. Either way, it didn't seem like there was enough sheep to make it smell like sheep all over the place.
It's not terrible. In fact, the smell is gone today because it's rainy. And cold....but hey, it's England, I was expecting as much.
This is such a weird place. I mean, last night it rained and snowed at the same time but the grass is still a vibrant green. And there's sheep. Outside. Just chilling (literally and figuratively I suppose).
Still no proper internet. The temporary username I have obtained does not work for the internet at my room (whoa, I almost wrote home. Geh) so I can't put up the fun stuff I have promised. At least not yet. I can't because all the fun stuff is on my laptop but I can't access the internet from it. Don't worry though; I'll get my official username on Friday once I officially get registered for classes.
It has become very clear to me that I didn't bring enough of anything. Except maybe socks and underwear. But I suppose I did that subconsciously so I won't feel guilty shopping. However, feeling guilty/bad once I've spent all my money won't make it come back so I've really got to budget once things are all figured out. I'm not too worried about that. I'll figure that all out soon.
It's weird (and also wonderful) the way people are calling me "love" and saying things that I understand but still find completely intriguing. People aren't "named" things, they are "called" things.
There is a porter for my college (I think his name is John) who is very nice. I overheard him telling another girl that "things would be alright." He is very helpful and understanding (as far as I can tell anyway). In our orientation today, we were encouraged to get to know our porters (there is one on duty 24/7 during term) and that we can just "pop down" to talk over a "cup of tea." It all sounds enchanting when I write it that way huh? :D
Anyway, I did have a bit of a downer moment last night at 2 in the morning. I was cold and I suddenly felt like a complete fool for leaving home. I wished my family would be around when I woke up but I knew that wouldn't happen. I cried for a while then went back to bed. Today has been better. I met a girl that I have gotten to know a little bit. She is very nice and we've planned on going into town together tomorrow (with a tour group of other internation students). We also talked about going to London. We both want to go but not alone.
I better get off here before I'm kicked off the computer (it's a timed thing-I've been kicked off once already). More later.

I'm in Fooking England!

Hello ladies and gents.

I'm in England. I made it. I'm alive. I do feel like my head might explode because I've been running around for the past two hours trying to find a computer to send my (worried) family an email that I made it. I'll be posting some fun stuff later. Right now, I'm heading back to my room and passing out for a while.

With A Name Like Genochio, It Has To Be Good

So I am very nearly done packing. I'm impressed with myself. I've really left a lot of things out because in reality I can live pretty comfortably without a lot of things. I packed my favorite clothes and perfume and scarves. Other stuff too but I honestly can't remember everything.
I was looking through some old blogs and I found this, which I still enjoy greatly because it seems so random/carefree.

What do you do when you want to dance? Turn up the music and f-ing dance.
I hate it when I feel contemplative but I can't really get out a single thought. I just want to write; write anything and everything. Throw caution to the wind and say what I really mean. Ha, like I'd ever do that. I don't want to stomp on anyone's feelings, even if I end up crushing my own in the process.
I like change. I always want to rearrange my room and I love to change my profile picture. At the same time, I'm afraid of change. What happens if I deviate from the "plan"? Is there a plan? Who am I kidding, I never plan.
Say it ain't so. Go dance or something you losers.

I think it's a nice example of how I am sometimes. I'm silly but still very mindful of other people's feelings/etiquette. At the same time, I wrote that little blurb two years ago. I think now I'm more mindful of living up to my expectations and not anyone else's. I've changed in the past year. People have told me that I've changed. I feel different. I mean I actually set up this trip to England. I've always thought about going and I always wanted to. I guess it's the right time now. I feel strong enough. I feel like I could do it.

Countdown To...

The countdown to 2009 is over but my countdown to England still has two days left.
I think it's interesting how every year on New Years people do a year assessment or spend time reflecting. Why does something like a new year prompt this self reflection? I spend a lot of time in self reflection. I suppose a lot of people do (at least I hope so). If not, does that once a year moment really do it for the entire year?
There are God knows how many surveys you can take with random questions like "Did you kiss a person with tattoos in 2008?" Really?
My favorite question was "Did you meet someone who changed your life?" Okay, there is some validity to that question. Some people you meet swoop in and change things up. Other you can meet but it might be years later before you realize how they changed you. The point is, how do you answer that? How can you possibly know?
I do enjoy those surveys though. They're so ridiculous 90% of the time. The things people can come up with, you know?

Alright. I'm still not packed. It's 7:30 but I'm sleepy. Packing. bleh. I don't know anyone that actually packs earlier than the night before traveling.