Since our somewhat sketchy rent-a-car road trip feel through for this past weekend, a few of us decided that a day trip to Cardiff, Wales, would be a good way to utilize our Saturday. As usual, we were right. Let's break down the very Welsh day, shall we?
5:45
Wake up after four hours of sleep. Exhausted, but what else is new? Pumped for Wales, and that eliminates much of the tiredness. Funny how much energy I have when homework and cleaning aren't on the agenda...
6:30
Meet the crew in the courtyard to walk to the train station. Today's travel group includes the "Core Four" (we're so middle school), which is Sally, Gracie, Holly and I. Adam joined us in our day trip, but also there were Carl, Sammy, Gavin and Elias who planned to spend Saturday night and Sunday in Cardiff as well.
7:37
On the train. Thought we were going to be snoozing for two hours straight, but it turns out that trains do not go directly from Oxford to Cardiff. Lame. No catch-up sleep and a lot of train connections instead.
10:00
Arrive in Cardiff! Fairly unimpressive. Dirty and run-down.
10:30
REALLY arrive in Cardiff. Not dirty and run-down. A little exploration always yields good results!
11:00
What to do, what to do? Checked a list of castles--because what else is there in Wales except castles--and decided that Cardiff Castle, purely on proximity, was our best bet.
11:10
Nine pounds to explore Cardiff Castle? Is it worth it?
11:12
So worth it.
11:30
Exploring the beautiful castle grounds...which are tainted by massive hoards of Italian teenagers. Seriously, they are everywhere. All over Oxford, and now they had followed us to Wales. WE are supposed to be the loudest and most rambunctious group wherever we go! Not cool, Italian teenagers.
12:00
Mulitple photos have been taken. Multiple steps have been climbed. Multiple Italian teenagers have been sneered at. Time to leave the castle!
12:30
HUNGRY.
12:40
Finally found a spot for lunch, and what a spot it was. "Baguette Express" might sound like a bad chain, but with about 40 different sandwich options and the owner who told us to carpe diem about a hundred different ways, Baguette Express was a great choice.
12:43
Baguettes devoured.
13:00
Ah, a park. Our favorite. Found a huge sundial and decided to sun ourselves on the center rock.
13:10
Asleep.
13:30
The boys find us, call us lazy seals, and tell us about a cathedral nearby that we should see. Also there is a museum. Discussion.
13:40
Discussion...
13:50
More discussion, sprinkled with inappropriate jokes...
14:00
Discussion about how we spend tons of time discussing and even more time telling inappropriate jokes...
14:10
Cathedral it is! Who wants to see a museum when you can be outside on a surprisingly beautiful Welsh day?
14:20
We meet Oxford. Oh, Oxford. Random and super friendly cat on the street. Probably got diseases, but at least he has a name now.
15:00
After a long walk through a lovely park, we hit the cathedral and start wandering about.
15:10
Carl and Adam accidentally photobomb a wedding happening in said cathedral. We decide that maybe we've seen enough of the cathedral.
15:30
Exploration of the graveyard! Who knew that February 31 was ever a date?
15:35
A trip to the coast sounds nice, complete with dinner. Water taxi leaves at four? Off we go!
15:40
We meet Oxford the cat again! He's been waiting for us.
15:43
The elderly lady nearby begins talking to us about the cat.
15:45
The elderly lady nearby begins talking about her life.
15:47
The elderly lady nearby begins talking about our lives.
15:48
The elderly lady nearby introduces herself as Anne Way, Christian and poet.
15:50
Anne Way tells me that I am not allowed to ever again call her Ms. Way. It is Anne. She may be 81, but she will always be 21, if we know what she means. We do.
15:55
Anne offers us a book of her poetry, privately published. She praises God who has brought her to this place at this time so that she could meet us. We agree.
16:00
We miss the water taxi. We don't care.
16:02
I give Anne my Chapel Hill address so that she can send us more poems, and she gives us her Welsh address so that I can send her the photo we all just took together.
16:07
Anne hopes that we will never lose the idealism that we now have. She makes us promise. We happily oblige.
16:09
Anne quotes Frost.
16:11
Anne quotes Shakespeare.
16:13
Anne tells us to "gather our rosebuds while ye may."
16:20
Anne must be going, as must we. We promise to write, and she kisses us all goodbye, remembering our names one by one.
16:25
We walk away, thanking Oxford the cat for the wonderful experience of meeting Anne Way.
16:45
We get in line for the next water taxi.
16:55
We are forced to defend our rightful place in line against a 4-year-old and his mother.
17:00
Water taxi to the coast! Much discussion on what to eat when we're there. Much discussion on how much we discuss what to eat. Much discussion on how much we love food.
17:15
Still discussing food.
17:25
We arrive at the harbor!
17:30
Burgers it is. We're feeling very American today, and Gourmet Burger Kitchen sounds too delicious to pass up.
17:45
I decide that I will never again be able to enjoy fries without malt vinegar.
18:10
Food coma.
18:15
Up we go. Off to walk around a bit, then to the train station to end our "Welshpent" (thanks, Holly) day.
20:30
On the train.
21:30
Still on the train.
21:45
Connection to another train.
22:00
Wondering why this train isn't stopping at Swindon, our connection.
22:10
Conductor tells frustrated me that it's signal trouble. We'll be getting off at Reading and can find our way there.
22:15
Still fuming.
22:20
Arrived at Reading. 45 minutes until train to Oxford. Thanks, signal trouble.
00:30
Finally back at Oxford.
00:31
Asleep.
A very extensive rehashing of our long day in Wales (and on trains). Don't worry, I won't break down this weekend's Edinburgh exploits quite as extensively. Hopefully you all don't mind too much because I do still, as always, love and miss you all.
Monday, July 19, 2010
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
How to Gain Weight in Oxford
Five days in Oxford, and the lbs are pilin' back on. Here's how YOU can gain weight in Oxford, too!
1. Live 100 yards away from everything. In London, we had to walk 30 minutes to and from class everyday. Here, our classroom is literally in my dormitory. Our dining hall is all the way next door. All of my program-mates live in my building or the adjacent ones surrounding our common courtyard. My parents are probably rolling their eyes and thinking how this is their lazy daughter's dream. Not entirely untrue, Mom and Dad, but I do miss the exercise, believe it or not.
2. Live 20 feet from a subsidized pub. Yes, you read correctly. St. Edmund's Hall College at Oxford University has a SUBSIDIZED PUB. As if there wasn't already enough demand for alcohol. The Guinness is cheaper, and the dartboard is always ready for a game. Needless to say, we have enjoyed many a calorie at this appropriately titled pub, The Buttery.
3. Enjoy nine free meals a week. Did I mention that they are THREE-COURSE meals? Well, they are, and deliciously so. Monday through Friday (if you choose to wake up at 8 a.m., and of course I do so for food) we walk to our conventiently-located dining hall and plop down at the "high table" (our professor is an alumnus), where we are served three courses. Breakfast is usually toast with jam and butter, bagels with cream cheese or marmalade, coffee, tea, juice, and then a "hot breakfast" if you wish, which is generally eggs, bacon, hash browns, and baked beans. Beats me, but it's always tasty! What a great way to start the day. Even with a huge breakfast under our belt, we are always ready to go at it again with lunch at 1 p.m. Another three-course beauty, lunch consists of soup or fruit (of the most elaborate displays), bread and butter, a main course of chicken or beef and pasta or rice, and then a huge mouth-watering dessert with a bit of coffee. UNC Dining Services, you ain't got nothing on the English.
4. See all the sights in one day. Oxford, I love you and all, but there is nothing to do here. Seriously though, Professor Armitage took us on a tour of the town of the very first day, and since then, we can't think of anything else to see! It's a beautiful place, and there are enjoyable things to do, but not in the middle of the afternoon. In London we constantly felt obligated to see, see, see everything, but here...well, there's no "everything" to see. Gotta say, after an extremely hectic and exhausting (albeit very fun) three weeks in London, I do enjoy a good afternoon off.
5. Have a single room. Correction: have a single room that is perfect for napping. After three weeks in a flat with four other girls, no amount of consideration could ever keep things totally quiet, but oh boy can my Oxford dorm room do so. I open my window for a little air, bolt my door, and I'm out.
6. Stay in for crappy weather. By some freak accident of nature, London was sunny and warm for our entire stay. Oxford, on the other hand, has jumped right in to be overcast, cool, and drizzly--and the 10-day forecast doesn't show a lot of difference up ahead. Once again, this is fine by us. Congregating in Arthur's room or lingering at the lunch table are perfectly enjoyable ways to spend our time in Oxford. Well, at least while the weather permits little else.
As you may have gathered, my time in Oxford will be quite a bit different than my time in London, but as you also may have gathered, it will be no less enjoyable. I can't wait to have another best three weeks of my life, and I can't wait to keep you all updated. Because I do, as always, love and miss you all. Cheers!
1. Live 100 yards away from everything. In London, we had to walk 30 minutes to and from class everyday. Here, our classroom is literally in my dormitory. Our dining hall is all the way next door. All of my program-mates live in my building or the adjacent ones surrounding our common courtyard. My parents are probably rolling their eyes and thinking how this is their lazy daughter's dream. Not entirely untrue, Mom and Dad, but I do miss the exercise, believe it or not.
2. Live 20 feet from a subsidized pub. Yes, you read correctly. St. Edmund's Hall College at Oxford University has a SUBSIDIZED PUB. As if there wasn't already enough demand for alcohol. The Guinness is cheaper, and the dartboard is always ready for a game. Needless to say, we have enjoyed many a calorie at this appropriately titled pub, The Buttery.
3. Enjoy nine free meals a week. Did I mention that they are THREE-COURSE meals? Well, they are, and deliciously so. Monday through Friday (if you choose to wake up at 8 a.m., and of course I do so for food) we walk to our conventiently-located dining hall and plop down at the "high table" (our professor is an alumnus), where we are served three courses. Breakfast is usually toast with jam and butter, bagels with cream cheese or marmalade, coffee, tea, juice, and then a "hot breakfast" if you wish, which is generally eggs, bacon, hash browns, and baked beans. Beats me, but it's always tasty! What a great way to start the day. Even with a huge breakfast under our belt, we are always ready to go at it again with lunch at 1 p.m. Another three-course beauty, lunch consists of soup or fruit (of the most elaborate displays), bread and butter, a main course of chicken or beef and pasta or rice, and then a huge mouth-watering dessert with a bit of coffee. UNC Dining Services, you ain't got nothing on the English.
4. See all the sights in one day. Oxford, I love you and all, but there is nothing to do here. Seriously though, Professor Armitage took us on a tour of the town of the very first day, and since then, we can't think of anything else to see! It's a beautiful place, and there are enjoyable things to do, but not in the middle of the afternoon. In London we constantly felt obligated to see, see, see everything, but here...well, there's no "everything" to see. Gotta say, after an extremely hectic and exhausting (albeit very fun) three weeks in London, I do enjoy a good afternoon off.
5. Have a single room. Correction: have a single room that is perfect for napping. After three weeks in a flat with four other girls, no amount of consideration could ever keep things totally quiet, but oh boy can my Oxford dorm room do so. I open my window for a little air, bolt my door, and I'm out.
6. Stay in for crappy weather. By some freak accident of nature, London was sunny and warm for our entire stay. Oxford, on the other hand, has jumped right in to be overcast, cool, and drizzly--and the 10-day forecast doesn't show a lot of difference up ahead. Once again, this is fine by us. Congregating in Arthur's room or lingering at the lunch table are perfectly enjoyable ways to spend our time in Oxford. Well, at least while the weather permits little else.
As you may have gathered, my time in Oxford will be quite a bit different than my time in London, but as you also may have gathered, it will be no less enjoyable. I can't wait to have another best three weeks of my life, and I can't wait to keep you all updated. Because I do, as always, love and miss you all. Cheers!
Monday, July 12, 2010
Best of London
On Friday we packed up our little London flat and hopped on a train to Oxford, where we will continue our studies and our festivities in St. Edmund’s Hall. We are decidedly sad about leaving our flats, as we love the social atmosphere, but we’ve agreed that a lower-key existence might be in order.
Anyway, since we have left London, and since I was never very good at updating the blog these past three weeks, I thought I would write a Best Of blog, recording some of the conventional and unconventional moments that have made me fall in love with London.
Top Ten Moments in London (in no particular order)
1. First bite of Nutella. Everyone told me I would love it, and they were right. Thirty minutes after meeting my flatmates, they convinced me that buying a whole jar without ever having tasted it was a risk I could take. So very glad I did.
2. Henry IV at the Globe Theatre. After three hours of sleep and a long day, I was hardly excited about seeing our first Shakespeare production as a “groundling,” meaning I would have to stand throughout the show. However, the second Prince Hal and Falstaff hit that stage, I fell in love with Shakespeare and his surprisingly dirty sense of humor.
3. Watching the sun rise on the Thames. Our group had just spent the evening getting to know each other with a rousing game of Never Have I Ever when we realized that it was 4 a.m. and the sun was about to rise. Of course Bryce and I decided we should advantage and walk down to the Millennium Bridge and watch it come up over the river. We had the usually packed pedestrian bridge all to ourselves, and we watched the sun rise and the city wake up.
4. Losing the World Cup game to Germany. Doesn’t sound like it should be on here, does it? However, after reserving tables at a popular pub, ordering pitchers of Pimm’s and lemonade (a very British drink), and cheering our hearts out with the rest of the fans, we felt like real Londoners to be sad and upset.
5. Watching “Defying Gravity” blow my mind. Jesse and I decided to take advantage of the half-price ticket counters in Leicester Square and got nosebleed tickets for Wicked. It was...just amazing. I had chills the whole time. Seeing the book that I love and the soundtrack that I memorize come to life on stage definitely deserves a place on this list.
6. Seeing Jena in Russell Square. My Chapel Hill roommate and I just happened to be in London at the same time, but on completely different programs. As soon as we could, we met up or dinner. When we found each other in Russell Square Gardens, we had a little girly fit about how cool it was that we were together in London, and then we shared some pasta and white wine to celebrate!
7. Making it to the London Eye. As you probably know, the London Eye is a gigantic Ferris wheel-type thing, only with large glass-windowed boxes that hold about twenty and take you up and up until you can see the whole London Skyline. It really is quite a beautiful experience…that we almost didn’t have. We bought our tickets on a Friday morning and vowed to make it back before 9:30 that evening to redeem them for our ride. Too bad this was early in the program, and we still didn’t know exactly how to use the tube. At 9:35 we finally made it to our stop and started running. And running. And running. Until Holly discovered that she didn’t have enough money on her tube card to LEAVE the station! She yelled for us to leave her behind, but Sally waited with her. Much drama. The rest of us began running past Big Ben and Westminster Abbey, determined to make it and have them hold it. When we got there, the teenagers running the ride laughed at us and made us promise to buy them drinks if we waited for Holly and Sally. The empty promises were never fulfilled, but Holly and Sally did eventually come charging up (surprisingly quickly for two small girls) around 9:47, and we all had a very wonderful ride on the London Eye.
8. Never enough sleep. One Monday morning, after a loooong weekend of going to plays, going to Stratford, sight-seeing, and sight-seeing the pubs until about 4 a.m. the previous evening, Sally (my London roommate) and I both woke up at 8:45 to our alarms. And we snoozed. At 9:00 our simultaneous alarms rang again. We both sighed, and I looked at her and said, “We’re never going to get enough sleep, are we?” She hesitated a moment, looked at me and said, “Nope.” With that, she threw back the covers and got ready for another great yet sleepless week. Didn’t take me too long to follow suit.
9. First class with Professor Armitage. The man is a true Shakespeare scholar. From offhand analyses of Ophelia’s relationship with her mother to how he would have played Lear quite differently than Greg Hicks did to regularly reciting all of the same information we hear on guided tours through Stratford, he knows his stuff. However, the man also has a LOT of color. He keeps class interesting with his less-than politically correct comments about the Italians overflowing Oxford or what unstaunched wench actually means or, most importantly, his now-infamous, rumbling and throaty, “Rooiiiiiight.” Many student imitations have been made, of course. (Group consensus has Bryce taking the gold.)
10. Photo fail. Hands down, my favorite moment in London. A large group of us had just gone to see (on our own accord) a little play at the historic Rose Theatre, Arden of Faversham. We were walking back to the flats to decide what to do with rest of the evening, and of course we took the way back along the Thames. It was a beautiful night, and the Thames was reflecting the moonlight while the London skyline glittered. Naturally, Mom Sally demanded a group photo in front of the scene. We all playfully griped, lined up and wrapped our arms around each other, excited for another photo displaying how happy we all were to be together in this amazing place. We smiled, and we waited for the photo to happen. And we waited…and waited. As we one by one realized that we had just set up a perfect photo but had acquired NO PHOTOGRAPHER, the entire group erupted into the most uproarious laughter I have ever heard. I myself had not laughed that hard in a long time. The photo pose broke up into hugs and doublings-over of laughter, and the photo was forgotten, but, to be perfectly corny, I will cherish that memory forever.
Hope you enjoyed a few little slices of my London life. To be honest, it already feels bittersweet to look back on these joyous memories with these wonderful people and know that half of my time with them has passed. However, I am continuing to have the time of my life in Oxford, as I will post about soon. I may even have the time here to blog a bit more, especially with your advice, Kelsey!
More on that soon. For now, as always, I love and miss you all.
Anyway, since we have left London, and since I was never very good at updating the blog these past three weeks, I thought I would write a Best Of blog, recording some of the conventional and unconventional moments that have made me fall in love with London.
Top Ten Moments in London (in no particular order)
1. First bite of Nutella. Everyone told me I would love it, and they were right. Thirty minutes after meeting my flatmates, they convinced me that buying a whole jar without ever having tasted it was a risk I could take. So very glad I did.
2. Henry IV at the Globe Theatre. After three hours of sleep and a long day, I was hardly excited about seeing our first Shakespeare production as a “groundling,” meaning I would have to stand throughout the show. However, the second Prince Hal and Falstaff hit that stage, I fell in love with Shakespeare and his surprisingly dirty sense of humor.
3. Watching the sun rise on the Thames. Our group had just spent the evening getting to know each other with a rousing game of Never Have I Ever when we realized that it was 4 a.m. and the sun was about to rise. Of course Bryce and I decided we should advantage and walk down to the Millennium Bridge and watch it come up over the river. We had the usually packed pedestrian bridge all to ourselves, and we watched the sun rise and the city wake up.
4. Losing the World Cup game to Germany. Doesn’t sound like it should be on here, does it? However, after reserving tables at a popular pub, ordering pitchers of Pimm’s and lemonade (a very British drink), and cheering our hearts out with the rest of the fans, we felt like real Londoners to be sad and upset.
5. Watching “Defying Gravity” blow my mind. Jesse and I decided to take advantage of the half-price ticket counters in Leicester Square and got nosebleed tickets for Wicked. It was...just amazing. I had chills the whole time. Seeing the book that I love and the soundtrack that I memorize come to life on stage definitely deserves a place on this list.
6. Seeing Jena in Russell Square. My Chapel Hill roommate and I just happened to be in London at the same time, but on completely different programs. As soon as we could, we met up or dinner. When we found each other in Russell Square Gardens, we had a little girly fit about how cool it was that we were together in London, and then we shared some pasta and white wine to celebrate!
7. Making it to the London Eye. As you probably know, the London Eye is a gigantic Ferris wheel-type thing, only with large glass-windowed boxes that hold about twenty and take you up and up until you can see the whole London Skyline. It really is quite a beautiful experience…that we almost didn’t have. We bought our tickets on a Friday morning and vowed to make it back before 9:30 that evening to redeem them for our ride. Too bad this was early in the program, and we still didn’t know exactly how to use the tube. At 9:35 we finally made it to our stop and started running. And running. And running. Until Holly discovered that she didn’t have enough money on her tube card to LEAVE the station! She yelled for us to leave her behind, but Sally waited with her. Much drama. The rest of us began running past Big Ben and Westminster Abbey, determined to make it and have them hold it. When we got there, the teenagers running the ride laughed at us and made us promise to buy them drinks if we waited for Holly and Sally. The empty promises were never fulfilled, but Holly and Sally did eventually come charging up (surprisingly quickly for two small girls) around 9:47, and we all had a very wonderful ride on the London Eye.
8. Never enough sleep. One Monday morning, after a loooong weekend of going to plays, going to Stratford, sight-seeing, and sight-seeing the pubs until about 4 a.m. the previous evening, Sally (my London roommate) and I both woke up at 8:45 to our alarms. And we snoozed. At 9:00 our simultaneous alarms rang again. We both sighed, and I looked at her and said, “We’re never going to get enough sleep, are we?” She hesitated a moment, looked at me and said, “Nope.” With that, she threw back the covers and got ready for another great yet sleepless week. Didn’t take me too long to follow suit.
9. First class with Professor Armitage. The man is a true Shakespeare scholar. From offhand analyses of Ophelia’s relationship with her mother to how he would have played Lear quite differently than Greg Hicks did to regularly reciting all of the same information we hear on guided tours through Stratford, he knows his stuff. However, the man also has a LOT of color. He keeps class interesting with his less-than politically correct comments about the Italians overflowing Oxford or what unstaunched wench actually means or, most importantly, his now-infamous, rumbling and throaty, “Rooiiiiiight.” Many student imitations have been made, of course. (Group consensus has Bryce taking the gold.)
10. Photo fail. Hands down, my favorite moment in London. A large group of us had just gone to see (on our own accord) a little play at the historic Rose Theatre, Arden of Faversham. We were walking back to the flats to decide what to do with rest of the evening, and of course we took the way back along the Thames. It was a beautiful night, and the Thames was reflecting the moonlight while the London skyline glittered. Naturally, Mom Sally demanded a group photo in front of the scene. We all playfully griped, lined up and wrapped our arms around each other, excited for another photo displaying how happy we all were to be together in this amazing place. We smiled, and we waited for the photo to happen. And we waited…and waited. As we one by one realized that we had just set up a perfect photo but had acquired NO PHOTOGRAPHER, the entire group erupted into the most uproarious laughter I have ever heard. I myself had not laughed that hard in a long time. The photo pose broke up into hugs and doublings-over of laughter, and the photo was forgotten, but, to be perfectly corny, I will cherish that memory forever.
Hope you enjoyed a few little slices of my London life. To be honest, it already feels bittersweet to look back on these joyous memories with these wonderful people and know that half of my time with them has passed. However, I am continuing to have the time of my life in Oxford, as I will post about soon. I may even have the time here to blog a bit more, especially with your advice, Kelsey!
More on that soon. For now, as always, I love and miss you all.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Irish Weekend
There’s this quote. You know the one. Marilyn Monroe, I believe. Anyway, it says something about not regretting the things you’ve done, but only regretting the things you did not do. After my weekend in Ireland, I fully ascribe to that quote. Maybe it won’t be applicable to the rest of my life, but I cannot possibly think of a better theme for this weekend or this program.
Friday began as a day of travel. After traveling by tube to Liverpool Street, I used my yet underused BritRail pass to take a train to London Stansted Airport, where I then flew via European airline Ryanair to Dublin followed by a bus ride into the city within a short walk of our hostel. Run-on sentence? Appropriate, as Friday was a run-on day.
And what is there to do after a day of uncomfortable seats and long queues? Pubs it is! Dublin is famous for its Temple Bar and the neighborhood of bars surrounding it, and shame on us if we miss an authentic Irish experience such as that one. Temple Bar was our first stop. The Guinness beers were five euros each, but of course we relented to the tourist attraction of having a Guinness in Temple bar in Dublin…and of course the boys relented, oh so reluctantly, to finishing the famous beers that we could not. Such troopers!
Friday proceeded as I assume most Irish evenings do, with much fervor and a bit of street music. A small yet talented band was playing in the Temple bar area, and the boys’ euros that did not buy Guinness went into the guitar case out front because “that guy can really jam.” Can he? I certainly have no idea, but I sacrificed 50p for the struggling artist anyway.
Saturday morning began with the Camden Hall Hostel’s “complimentary continental breakfast.” This included, and was definitely limited too, the whitest white bread I have ever seen, strawberry jam, whole milk, margarine, white sugar, and instant coffee. Unfortunately, the instant coffee’s identity was apparent to everyone but me, as I used it to top off my toast with margarine and sugar. Cinnamon toast, anyone? Whoops… Not the best breakfast I’ve ever had.
After breakfast and long deliberation, we decided to hop on a bus and ride out about 45 minutes to a little fishing village that somebody’s brother’s girlfriend had maybe heard about being fun and we should probably go there to have a sort of good time. Best decision of our lives.
But really. When we pulled into Howth (pronounced “hooth”), we knew it would be a great day, but at that point we didn’t even know how great. Considering our late start and suspect breakfast, we began this fateful day with fish and chips, a meal that has often begun and ended our fateful days here across the pond. Sitting on the pier, munching of fresh cod and “chips” (as you might know, French fries), we decided that a small ferry boat ride would be in order. After finagling a group deal, we piled onto a rickety “ferry” (held about 20 people) and puttered to Ireland’s Eye, a small island off the coast of Howth.
Another best decision of our lives. The island was lush and green, covered in rocky cliffs and pebbled beaches—and, little did we know, very dangerous bits. More on that later.
The boys found a tower and couldn’t resist climbing it. I gave it a shot, but shimmying up 15-foot worn-down ropes isn’t exactly my thing. After that, the trek to the highest point began. Many photo opps and Lord of the Ring references later, we sat at the top of the island. The view was breathtaking, even if Professor Armitage wouldn’t approve of my flowery word. From the top of Ireland’s Eye we watched one return ferry leave with little qualm. Perhaps if we had caught that, the Battle of the Seagulls and the Tourist would have never commenced…
Let me just say that Arthur started it. The seagulls (who dominate the island, by the way) wanted nothing to do with us until Arthur decided he wanted to get close enough to touch a baby seagulls. Poor choice, Arthur. When Arthur got too scared to be out there alone, Taylor joined him…and didn’t prove to be much help. I have never laughed so hard and two boys trying to be gallant. The birds began to notice the boys and therefore swooping dangerously close. Arthur and Taylor’s windbreakers hit the sky every time a bird got anywhere near them, but we soon realized they’d be much better just putting them on because poop seems to be the weapon of choice of defensive birds. Wish I was kidding.
Finally we coaxed the boys off of the battlefield, thinking it would calm the birds. It did...until we decided to ascend onto Seagull Cliff. Another poor choice, or at least it should have been. Running across the cliffs and through crazy stinging bushes with birds swooping at our heads was the most fun I have had in a long time—which is saying something because I have a pretty fun life. We maneuvered and climbed and ran and jumped and helped each other out, all under attack of the seagulls and through weird plants that stung our legs. Mine still itch, but it’s only a reminder of how much fun I had that day.
After much ado with the seagulls, we checked out the beach. Five hundred attempts later and I still can’t skip a rock, but I sure did pick up a ton a rocks and shells from the authentic Ireland beach! How’s that for saving money on souvenirs?
Back on the ferry, and onto our next adventure. The ferry guide, Karl, tipped us off to a cliff-jumping location that’s popular among the locals. “But ‘ey, don’t tell anyone about it, eh? It’s not exactly legal ‘round here, yeah?” Okay, Karl…
Didn’t stop us! We took Karl’s directions and tried to find Red Rock beach. We searched, asked for directions, then searched some more. Two and a half (beautiful and exhilarating) hours later, we found our place. A long rope tied to poles at both ends was there to support us down the mountain. Good idea? Probably not, but after looking for that long, we’d be damned if we weren’t going to check it out.
Down the rope we went, leading us to a series of cliffs that looked fairly legitimate. Steps were built into the cliffs to help jumpers climb back up, concrete platforms were created to mark the safe jumps, and empty beer cans littered the grounds to make us marvel at how crazy Irish people really are.
“All right,” someone asked, “who’s up first?”
“Arthur!” the group responded.
Arthur it was. He quickly took off his shirt in the 55 degree Irish dusk and lunged off the highest cliff. The girls took videos and held our breath, relieved when he came back up. Not to be outdone, Bryce, Carl and Gavin quickly followed. As the boys came out one by one, my courage picked up. The water was freezing, they said, and the current was strong, but their adrenaline was pumping, and I didn’t want to wuss out!
Arthur decided it would be safest for him to jump in right before me, staying in so that he could help me if need be. He went in, quickly and with confidence, while I waited (extremely nervously) for my turn. When he came up, however, he didn’t look so good. The current had knocked him around a bit harder than the first time, and while he was fine, he advised me, a small female, against jumping. My confidence shot, I put my shoes back on and called it a smart decision. Everyone agreed.
Now for the trek back. If you remember, it took us two and a half hours to get to these fated cliffs…and only ten minutes to find a bus that would take us back. Whoops! We collectively agreed that getting lost and taking the long way was just part of the experience, but no one complained when the warm bus pulled up to the stop.
Another night out on the Dublin town was in order upon our return, an, being our last one, we enjoyed it fully. At midnight it became the Fourth of July, and since Dubliners don’t like the British, they LOVE Americans. I’ve never had so many people wish me a happy Independence Day, and I’ve spent all previous Fourths in the States! Many renditions of the Star Spangled Banner were sung throughout the night, of course.
We let ourselves sleep in on Sunday morning. When we got up, we decided it was time to see the sight of Dublin. This included Trinity College, Christ Church Cathedral, Grafton Street, and the park outside of St. Stephen’s. After getting a photo of our bodies spelling C-A-R-O-L-I-N-A in front of a famous Dublin war memorial, we called it a day. A quick dinner of shepherd’s pie concluded the day. The boys took the opportunity to propose a toast: “To this NOT being our last pint of Guinness in Ireland!” Beautiful words.
This concludes the weekend. If you’ve made it this far, you must be one of three things: my parent, my close relative, or very very bored. I apologize for the length, but perhaps now you know why I do not regularly blog! My days are so filled that it is quite the task. Hopefully you enjoyed reading the accounts of my travels and debauchery as much as I enjoyed writing (and doing!) them. As you can see, I’m not giving myself many chances to regret missed opportunities…and it has been the time of my life.
Love and miss you all.
Friday began as a day of travel. After traveling by tube to Liverpool Street, I used my yet underused BritRail pass to take a train to London Stansted Airport, where I then flew via European airline Ryanair to Dublin followed by a bus ride into the city within a short walk of our hostel. Run-on sentence? Appropriate, as Friday was a run-on day.
And what is there to do after a day of uncomfortable seats and long queues? Pubs it is! Dublin is famous for its Temple Bar and the neighborhood of bars surrounding it, and shame on us if we miss an authentic Irish experience such as that one. Temple Bar was our first stop. The Guinness beers were five euros each, but of course we relented to the tourist attraction of having a Guinness in Temple bar in Dublin…and of course the boys relented, oh so reluctantly, to finishing the famous beers that we could not. Such troopers!
Friday proceeded as I assume most Irish evenings do, with much fervor and a bit of street music. A small yet talented band was playing in the Temple bar area, and the boys’ euros that did not buy Guinness went into the guitar case out front because “that guy can really jam.” Can he? I certainly have no idea, but I sacrificed 50p for the struggling artist anyway.
Saturday morning began with the Camden Hall Hostel’s “complimentary continental breakfast.” This included, and was definitely limited too, the whitest white bread I have ever seen, strawberry jam, whole milk, margarine, white sugar, and instant coffee. Unfortunately, the instant coffee’s identity was apparent to everyone but me, as I used it to top off my toast with margarine and sugar. Cinnamon toast, anyone? Whoops… Not the best breakfast I’ve ever had.
After breakfast and long deliberation, we decided to hop on a bus and ride out about 45 minutes to a little fishing village that somebody’s brother’s girlfriend had maybe heard about being fun and we should probably go there to have a sort of good time. Best decision of our lives.
But really. When we pulled into Howth (pronounced “hooth”), we knew it would be a great day, but at that point we didn’t even know how great. Considering our late start and suspect breakfast, we began this fateful day with fish and chips, a meal that has often begun and ended our fateful days here across the pond. Sitting on the pier, munching of fresh cod and “chips” (as you might know, French fries), we decided that a small ferry boat ride would be in order. After finagling a group deal, we piled onto a rickety “ferry” (held about 20 people) and puttered to Ireland’s Eye, a small island off the coast of Howth.
Another best decision of our lives. The island was lush and green, covered in rocky cliffs and pebbled beaches—and, little did we know, very dangerous bits. More on that later.
The boys found a tower and couldn’t resist climbing it. I gave it a shot, but shimmying up 15-foot worn-down ropes isn’t exactly my thing. After that, the trek to the highest point began. Many photo opps and Lord of the Ring references later, we sat at the top of the island. The view was breathtaking, even if Professor Armitage wouldn’t approve of my flowery word. From the top of Ireland’s Eye we watched one return ferry leave with little qualm. Perhaps if we had caught that, the Battle of the Seagulls and the Tourist would have never commenced…
Let me just say that Arthur started it. The seagulls (who dominate the island, by the way) wanted nothing to do with us until Arthur decided he wanted to get close enough to touch a baby seagulls. Poor choice, Arthur. When Arthur got too scared to be out there alone, Taylor joined him…and didn’t prove to be much help. I have never laughed so hard and two boys trying to be gallant. The birds began to notice the boys and therefore swooping dangerously close. Arthur and Taylor’s windbreakers hit the sky every time a bird got anywhere near them, but we soon realized they’d be much better just putting them on because poop seems to be the weapon of choice of defensive birds. Wish I was kidding.
Finally we coaxed the boys off of the battlefield, thinking it would calm the birds. It did...until we decided to ascend onto Seagull Cliff. Another poor choice, or at least it should have been. Running across the cliffs and through crazy stinging bushes with birds swooping at our heads was the most fun I have had in a long time—which is saying something because I have a pretty fun life. We maneuvered and climbed and ran and jumped and helped each other out, all under attack of the seagulls and through weird plants that stung our legs. Mine still itch, but it’s only a reminder of how much fun I had that day.
After much ado with the seagulls, we checked out the beach. Five hundred attempts later and I still can’t skip a rock, but I sure did pick up a ton a rocks and shells from the authentic Ireland beach! How’s that for saving money on souvenirs?
Back on the ferry, and onto our next adventure. The ferry guide, Karl, tipped us off to a cliff-jumping location that’s popular among the locals. “But ‘ey, don’t tell anyone about it, eh? It’s not exactly legal ‘round here, yeah?” Okay, Karl…
Didn’t stop us! We took Karl’s directions and tried to find Red Rock beach. We searched, asked for directions, then searched some more. Two and a half (beautiful and exhilarating) hours later, we found our place. A long rope tied to poles at both ends was there to support us down the mountain. Good idea? Probably not, but after looking for that long, we’d be damned if we weren’t going to check it out.
Down the rope we went, leading us to a series of cliffs that looked fairly legitimate. Steps were built into the cliffs to help jumpers climb back up, concrete platforms were created to mark the safe jumps, and empty beer cans littered the grounds to make us marvel at how crazy Irish people really are.
“All right,” someone asked, “who’s up first?”
“Arthur!” the group responded.
Arthur it was. He quickly took off his shirt in the 55 degree Irish dusk and lunged off the highest cliff. The girls took videos and held our breath, relieved when he came back up. Not to be outdone, Bryce, Carl and Gavin quickly followed. As the boys came out one by one, my courage picked up. The water was freezing, they said, and the current was strong, but their adrenaline was pumping, and I didn’t want to wuss out!
Arthur decided it would be safest for him to jump in right before me, staying in so that he could help me if need be. He went in, quickly and with confidence, while I waited (extremely nervously) for my turn. When he came up, however, he didn’t look so good. The current had knocked him around a bit harder than the first time, and while he was fine, he advised me, a small female, against jumping. My confidence shot, I put my shoes back on and called it a smart decision. Everyone agreed.
Now for the trek back. If you remember, it took us two and a half hours to get to these fated cliffs…and only ten minutes to find a bus that would take us back. Whoops! We collectively agreed that getting lost and taking the long way was just part of the experience, but no one complained when the warm bus pulled up to the stop.
Another night out on the Dublin town was in order upon our return, an, being our last one, we enjoyed it fully. At midnight it became the Fourth of July, and since Dubliners don’t like the British, they LOVE Americans. I’ve never had so many people wish me a happy Independence Day, and I’ve spent all previous Fourths in the States! Many renditions of the Star Spangled Banner were sung throughout the night, of course.
We let ourselves sleep in on Sunday morning. When we got up, we decided it was time to see the sight of Dublin. This included Trinity College, Christ Church Cathedral, Grafton Street, and the park outside of St. Stephen’s. After getting a photo of our bodies spelling C-A-R-O-L-I-N-A in front of a famous Dublin war memorial, we called it a day. A quick dinner of shepherd’s pie concluded the day. The boys took the opportunity to propose a toast: “To this NOT being our last pint of Guinness in Ireland!” Beautiful words.
This concludes the weekend. If you’ve made it this far, you must be one of three things: my parent, my close relative, or very very bored. I apologize for the length, but perhaps now you know why I do not regularly blog! My days are so filled that it is quite the task. Hopefully you enjoyed reading the accounts of my travels and debauchery as much as I enjoyed writing (and doing!) them. As you can see, I’m not giving myself many chances to regret missed opportunities…and it has been the time of my life.
Love and miss you all.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
How to Lose Weight in London
I'm pretty sure I've gone down a pants size. Okay, that's an exaggerration, but here's why I know I've lost a couple of pounds being here. Those who know me also know that this would have to be a complete accident, as food and relaxation are my two favorites.
1. Be broke. Easily the best diet plan. When I go to the grocery store here (about twice a week) I pick up eight items, and eight items only: skim milk, eggs, boneless skinless chicken breasts, hummus, baby spinach leaves, whole wheat bread and, most crucially, Nutella. All of my meals are a combination of one, two, or eight of these bland yet tasty foods. Nutella is dessert :)
2. See everything. How could I possibly have time to eat when there are literally hundreds of famous and interesting places to see in this one city? I know I haven't posted on the blog as often as I'd promised, but this is why. We never have a moment to sit and relax because we'd feel as though we were wasting daylight. And heck, when the nightlight rolls around, we don't like to waste that either.
3. Jaywalk. Drivers here are insane, and outrunning them (and cyclists, believe it or not) when they come hurtling down backroads has become an athletic event in itself.
4. Refuse to learn the Tube system. London's underground transportation system might be a snappy way to get around, but it sure is complicated. And when the initiative-takers of the group get ahold of the Tube map, I have no choice but to bumble along and ask no questions. While that's just dandy with me, it doesn't bode well when I have to get somewhere by myself and end up walking for an hour. "But Google Maps said it was only 3.9 miles..."
5. Have group dinners. Sometime over the last week, my group of about ten friends within my program decided that group dinners would be a good idea. My flat usually hosts, but the boys usually cook. Surprisingly, the boys can't resist getting their Martha Stewarts on, so they always come up with complicated idea like homemade pizzas or fajitas. The girls sit back and relax with a glass of cheap white wine (sorry Daddy, it's Europe) while the boys slave away, eventually emerging with tiny crusts covered in marinara sauce, barely melted goat cheese, "diced" onions and whole cherry tomatoes. Even if it isn't too filling, it might just be the cutest sight ever :)
6. Get lost. Not that I've ever done that...but if I HAD, then I would know that British people don't respond nicely to young frantic American girls who ask where Russell Square is when they've actually be circling it for the previous 20 minutes.
7. Don't have A.C. I came into this thinking that London wasn't supposed to be hot, and apparently that's what Crawford Passage flats thought, too. Unfortunately, the temperature has been in the high 80s all week. I've probably lost about three pounds of water weight alone. (Kidding, Momma, I swear I'm staying hydrated!)
8. Have the time of your life. Find fun, interesting friends with a similar curiousity for life and surroundings. Enjoy everything all day with them. Walk until your feet hate you and let you know it. Laugh until your abdomen muscles can't take it any more. Sing and dance and eat and play and be happy constantly.
Well hey, at least it's worked for me :)
1. Be broke. Easily the best diet plan. When I go to the grocery store here (about twice a week) I pick up eight items, and eight items only: skim milk, eggs, boneless skinless chicken breasts, hummus, baby spinach leaves, whole wheat bread and, most crucially, Nutella. All of my meals are a combination of one, two, or eight of these bland yet tasty foods. Nutella is dessert :)
2. See everything. How could I possibly have time to eat when there are literally hundreds of famous and interesting places to see in this one city? I know I haven't posted on the blog as often as I'd promised, but this is why. We never have a moment to sit and relax because we'd feel as though we were wasting daylight. And heck, when the nightlight rolls around, we don't like to waste that either.
3. Jaywalk. Drivers here are insane, and outrunning them (and cyclists, believe it or not) when they come hurtling down backroads has become an athletic event in itself.
4. Refuse to learn the Tube system. London's underground transportation system might be a snappy way to get around, but it sure is complicated. And when the initiative-takers of the group get ahold of the Tube map, I have no choice but to bumble along and ask no questions. While that's just dandy with me, it doesn't bode well when I have to get somewhere by myself and end up walking for an hour. "But Google Maps said it was only 3.9 miles..."
5. Have group dinners. Sometime over the last week, my group of about ten friends within my program decided that group dinners would be a good idea. My flat usually hosts, but the boys usually cook. Surprisingly, the boys can't resist getting their Martha Stewarts on, so they always come up with complicated idea like homemade pizzas or fajitas. The girls sit back and relax with a glass of cheap white wine (sorry Daddy, it's Europe) while the boys slave away, eventually emerging with tiny crusts covered in marinara sauce, barely melted goat cheese, "diced" onions and whole cherry tomatoes. Even if it isn't too filling, it might just be the cutest sight ever :)
6. Get lost. Not that I've ever done that...but if I HAD, then I would know that British people don't respond nicely to young frantic American girls who ask where Russell Square is when they've actually be circling it for the previous 20 minutes.
7. Don't have A.C. I came into this thinking that London wasn't supposed to be hot, and apparently that's what Crawford Passage flats thought, too. Unfortunately, the temperature has been in the high 80s all week. I've probably lost about three pounds of water weight alone. (Kidding, Momma, I swear I'm staying hydrated!)
8. Have the time of your life. Find fun, interesting friends with a similar curiousity for life and surroundings. Enjoy everything all day with them. Walk until your feet hate you and let you know it. Laugh until your abdomen muscles can't take it any more. Sing and dance and eat and play and be happy constantly.
Well hey, at least it's worked for me :)
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Kafreen in the UK
Here I am, taking a few minutes out of my suddenly busy and suddenly fun summer to post another blog update! I might have anyway, but this was specifically prompted by a semi-frantic email from my mother begging for contact. So here it is, Momma, I am not currently lying abandoned in a cobblestone alley OR eloping with a British soccer player--though who would really be upset about the latter?
London continues to be everything I hoped it would be. Well, that is true, but it's not what I mean to say. Really, this entire experience is everything I hoped it would be, and a heck of a lot more. Mostly this is due to my program-mates (there's an open invitation for a better term for that one) being awesome. I am truly shocked that everyone I have met is friendly, funny, intelligent and, most importantly, eager to do anything and everything that there is to do here.
...And there is a LOT to do here, my goodness. Every day after class (which we have from 9:30 until 12 Monday-Thursday) we find some way to explore the city, whether it be searching for King Tut and the original Beowulf manuscript in the British museum (failure on both counts) or finding the best pub for fish and chips and a pint. We've only been here two full days, so we haven't seen any of the classic sights quite yet, but that is sure to come...and mutiple photos are sure to follow.
Have to get ready for class now! Today, class will be followed by a group purchase of England "football" jerseys and trip to our favorite pub for the game, and THAT will be followed by Henry IV at the Globe Theatre. What a very British day!
London continues to be everything I hoped it would be. Well, that is true, but it's not what I mean to say. Really, this entire experience is everything I hoped it would be, and a heck of a lot more. Mostly this is due to my program-mates (there's an open invitation for a better term for that one) being awesome. I am truly shocked that everyone I have met is friendly, funny, intelligent and, most importantly, eager to do anything and everything that there is to do here.
...And there is a LOT to do here, my goodness. Every day after class (which we have from 9:30 until 12 Monday-Thursday) we find some way to explore the city, whether it be searching for King Tut and the original Beowulf manuscript in the British museum (failure on both counts) or finding the best pub for fish and chips and a pint. We've only been here two full days, so we haven't seen any of the classic sights quite yet, but that is sure to come...and mutiple photos are sure to follow.
Have to get ready for class now! Today, class will be followed by a group purchase of England "football" jerseys and trip to our favorite pub for the game, and THAT will be followed by Henry IV at the Globe Theatre. What a very British day!
Sunday, June 20, 2010
"Sorry, I'm American."
Twenty-four hours of travel is enough to drive a person crazy. Then consider a traveler who is young, inexperienced, alone, exhausted, hungry, dragging a 50-lb (exactly!) suitcase, and, most importantly, American. What do you get? Disaster on the tube/taxi/streets of Bloomsbury.
Okay, that's an exaggeration, but my day of traveling cross-country all by my lonesome was extremely taxing, and I am happy it's behind me. London itself is everything I dreamed of--and I've only seen about three streets.
I feel the need to justify every stupid question I ask here, hence my new favorite phrase: "Sorry, I'm American. I have no idea what I'm doing." So far I've gotten about 30 dirty looks and one, "That's all right, love. Those cobblestones would trip anyone!"
Here's to hoping my record gets better in the weeks to come.
Okay, that's an exaggeration, but my day of traveling cross-country all by my lonesome was extremely taxing, and I am happy it's behind me. London itself is everything I dreamed of--and I've only seen about three streets.
I feel the need to justify every stupid question I ask here, hence my new favorite phrase: "Sorry, I'm American. I have no idea what I'm doing." So far I've gotten about 30 dirty looks and one, "That's all right, love. Those cobblestones would trip anyone!"
Here's to hoping my record gets better in the weeks to come.
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