All Things Must Come to an End

Well readers, this is it. I may post again about my transitions home but for now, this is my last blog post while in England. This has been a wonderful journey and I am so happy to have had the chance to share it with you all. I hope that through my words you were able to feel as if you were here with me.

I am getting quite nostalgic as my days here as nearing an end. No longer will London be a short train ride away and no longer will I be able to visit castles, palaces, and historic landmarks on a daily basis. I have had the chance to see and do things while here that I could have never imagined otherwise. I have made lifelong friends and my beliefs have been challenged to the extreme. I believe that this experience has made me more tolerant to others and more tolerant to change, both of which needed to happen for me to be able to mature. As far as independence goes, well I have come a long way. From never having used public transportation to taking trains and planes entirely on my own, that is something I am extremely proud of, as tedious as it may seem to some of you.

I am more than excited for my homecoming, however. Nothing in London, England, or Europe could keep me from wanting to be with those who mean the most to me. It almost felt at one point as though I was never going to see anyone from home in person again and in just a few days, that will not be so.

This post is short and sweet and all I can really say is that my feelings are extremely mixed. I have a lot more that I could say about my time here so if you’re interested in hearing, just ask; I would love to tell!

Thank you all for taking the time out to read what I have had to say, I hope you enjoyed it.

Cheers xoxo

Hampton Court Palace: Fit for a King

On Tuesday Sarah and I decided to finally buy tickets to tour the inside of Hampton Court Palace. As you may remember from a previous blog of mine, this is the palace that I stumbled upon on the run I took back in February. This place is not just a palace (okay, are they ever JUST a palace?-No, the answer is no, that is not possible). This palace in particular was once the home to King Henry VIII. I would like to begin by reminding you all that King Henry III reigned five centuries ago so if the thought crossed your mind or even if it didn’t, this building is in fact older than America.

If you know me well you would know that I have a strange obsession with King Henry VIII. He is mostly famous for being an overweight tyrant who couldn’t remain monogamous to save his life. This is only partially how I see him. I think of him as he was early in his reign; athletic, intelligent, and driven. He changed the face of England forever and while some may not think that as a necessarily good thing, it still is so. His dynasty remained with his daughter, Elizabeth continuing his legacy. I could go on and on about the history of King Henry VIII but I will not bore you (although I find it fascinating and I think that everyone else should too).

I will run the risk of sounding crazy when I say this but I don’t care. I feel a special connection to King Henry VIII. Whether or not you believe in past lives (I’m not even sure that I do) I feel that my pull towards him cannot be explained as simply a love for history. When we entered the palace I did the girl dance. You know the dance a girl does when a guy she likes finally talks to her or asks her out? I’m sure if you are a woman you understand what I am talking about and if you are a man, well I’m sorry for the mental image of a girl neurotically dancing around like a freak. Just remember that you were probably the cause of this dance at least once. So there I was, jumping around like a mad woman, despite the many onlookers.  Many times when I visit historical places I feel detached from their actual history. Usually I just want to take a picture, identical to any postcard I could buy on the street, and get on with my day, but this was different. It was almost as if I could envision him walking through the corridors and strolling through the gardens (the sound effects helped and actors may have helped with this).

The sheer elegance of the artifacts, the decorations, and the landscapes truly encompassed the great king. There is much more that I could say about this experience or about my undying and honestly quite odd love for King Henry VIII but having just written three essays, my thoughts are jumbled as I’m sure you could tell. In just one week I will be back in the States and this experience will be nothing more than a memory so for now, I must fit in as much exploration as I can!

Cheers xoxo.

Stonehenge and Bath

Today my British Life and Culture class traveled to the famous site of Stonehenge and then to the city Bath. As we drove toward the land upon which Stonehenge sits, one could not help but be enamored by the sheer beauty of the cottages nuzzled along the country side filled with rolling hills and grazing sheep. Upon arriving to Stonehenge I was utterly surprised at my lack of excitement. Don't get me wrong, I am very lucky to have had the chance to see this wonder in person but for me getting one picture, mimicking the images of Stonehenge that I've seen throughout my life, was enough. As people spent the entire hour allotted taking pictures I could not help but think why. What was most interesting about this area for me was the burial mounds that stretched as far as the eye could see, but that's a completely different story.

After this, we drove to a city named Bath, home of the famous Roman Baths. Bath is a beautiful city filled with houses and buildings all made of honey colored local Bath stone. As we entered the city on our coach we could peer down into the both the professional cricket and rugby fields, both of which had matches. We were given a tour around the city which enabled us to see sites such as the Assembly Rooms, places where Jane Austen once lived, and many other historic places. After this tour, which was wonderful since it was such a lovely day, we entered a place known as the Roman Baths. This area is the site of a hot spring in which people bathed prior to the invention of bathrooms (obviously). Roman conquerors spent much time at this site perfecting its use. The water comes from the spring at a temperature of 120 degrees Fahrenheit and is enriched with numerous minerals. Because of these springs, Bath is well known for its spas and has become quite an expensive city to live in, which is evident as you walk through the streets.

I feel obligated to warn you all, who I hope are dedicated readers and avid fans of my blog, that I will be leaving London in less than two weeks for my return home. While I've had many life changing experiences here, I miss what means the most to me-my family and friends. So I hope that in these next few weeks I can fill my life with as much excitement as possible so that you readers have a few more stories of mine to live vicariously through, because after all those were my intentions for writing this blog.

Ireland, the land of my heritage. Liverpool, the land of The Beatles.

My Spring Break adventures ended with a short trip to Dublin, Ireland followed by a single night in Liverpool. I had been pretty worn out from all of my previous travelling but was quite excited to visit the land of my ancestors and the land where the members of one of my favorite bands, The Beatles, called home. Having another journey to the Stansted airport before the sun had even come up was proving o not be nearly as horrible as the one you may have read about in my blog about Italy. It appeared that Sarah and I had become seasoned veterans at night buses and rushing from point a to point b in order to catch the next bus or train without having to pay £50 for a taxi. I was pleasantly surprised with our success. My happiness, however, came to a halting stop about five minutes before we left our last bus prior to boarding our train. I had thought to myself, quite wrongly I might add, that there would be no way that on a late Sunday night I would have to deal with the kinds of things that are much more common on Friday or Saturday nights. As a guy stumbled from the top of the bus to the exit area awaiting his stop, he began spitting up small piles of vomit onto the ground. At first I remained semi calm which shocked me as puke has always been my biggest fear, but then the smell started to fill the bus. It was honestly the worst smell I have ever experienced and I am sorry that I had to give you such a vivid image but it is ingrained in my head therefore making it a notable part of my journey. 

With my stomach now turned, we arrived at Standsted and boarded our plane. The flight was less than an hour, luckily. As a side note, all of those flights that I've been taking is through a company called Ryanair. This company is extremely cheap, but you get what you pay for. Disorganized wouldn't even be a word to describe their way of doing things. Aside from having to push through large crowds the worst part of each flight was the landing. Now I'm not usually bothered by any aspect of flying, in fact I quite enjoy it but crash landing would be the appropriate terminology here. Whatever flight school the Ryanair pilots had to attend, they need a better landing instructor-all of them. 

Tired from another all nighter, we've made it to Ireland-the land of both of our heritage. I had recently been mistaken for having an Irish accent before and after meeting some people while in Ireland that mistaken identity seemed to hold true. People consistently thought that Sarah and I were Irish which excited the both of us quite a bit. We decided to be true tourists and get two day tickets for the city bus tour. This actually turned out to be quite a useful purchase as the tour was hop-on, hop-off as you please. From this tour we saw sights like the Oscar Wilde statues in the park, Trinity College, the Irish President's house, numerous reindeer, Dan Rooney's (the American ambassador to Ireland and co-owner of the Pittsburgh Steelers) house, the Jameson Distillery, the Guinness factory and much more. 

Still being sleep deprived both Sarah and I were in less than favorable moods. Frustrated, we went back to the hostel for an early night. This hostel was something else, let me tell you. We knew that in having a six person, shared, cheap room that it wouldn't be what we were used to but it was so far off from what I am able to handle. We had two roommates that didn't speak English, which was fine. The part that wasn't fine was the extremely loud neighbors who stayed up literally the entire night. Worse than that and the three flights of stairs that we had to climb every time we came back was the bathrooms. I was a Girl Scout for many years and I am also an avid camper so I am used to certain conditions that come along with those types of trips however I did not expect this hostel to have worse accommodations than any campground bathroom I have ever been in. The bathroom (a communal one) not only was dark and dirty but the showers only ran cold water and in order to make the water even run you had to hold in a button. Needless to say, I thought it better to be dirty for two days than use whatever these were that they were trying to pass off as acceptable. The tail end of this night didn't seem like it could get worse until I realized that I had lost my bag of gifts that I had gotten from Guinness. Highly upset with everything I decided that not sleeping was definitely not the solution so I went to bed in hopes that tomorrow would be a better day. 

First thing on the agenda the next morning was to visit a family name shop that was filled with the crests and descriptions of many historically Irish surnames. I had known that my family once inhabited Ireland but I was actually somewhat shocked to find it throughout the store. It was a neat experience to be able to learn more about my ancestry and heritage, even if it was through a family name shop. Also on that day I was lucky enough to find the place where I had left my bag full of gifts. That was a relief. After this we had stopped at a place called Christ Church where the tv series The Tudors was once filmed. We knew that it was filmed there and being that we both loved that show we were excited to tour the grounds but unfortunately we were not allowed. This was because the same company was in the middle of shooting another tv series, The Stuarts. I had never seen anything like this so believe me when I tell you that I was freaking out as I watched all of the people walking around the area in historical clothing, practicing their lines. Later that night we went to a pub called The Brazen Head which has been noted by the Guinness Book of World Records for being the oldest standing pub in Ireland dating back to the thirteenth century. This pub had low ceilings, brick walls, small archways, cozy fireplaces, and much to my surprise-wifi. That was actually disappointing. From here we made our way to another pub where we saw live music. That was probably one of the greatest experiences I've had while I've been abroad. The music filled the room, people danced and sang along, and it was evident that at that moment none of us had a care in the world and even though we did not know each other we were somehow all friends. As the clock neared midnight we decided to head back to the hostel since we had to be awake at 4am the next day to catch our flight. You can sleep when you're dead, right?

Leaving Ireland was a sad moment for both of us. I was not nearly as upset as when I left Italy but being in Ireland was a nice experience as it made me feel closer to my ancestors and understand better what life was like before the fateful voyage to America (the ship that often made the trip was called the Jeanie Johnston by the way). Once in Liverpool we were quite terrified of what this hostel would have in store for us after having such an awful one just the night before. Luckily for us it wasn't too bad and the staff was very accommodating. They offered coffee, tea, chocolate, free breakfast, but most importantly-a shower. The bathrooms were still communal but much nicer than the sad excuse for a bathroom that we already had to deal with. The first thing we did was hop in to finally clean ourselves off but about two minutes into my shower the lights turned completely off. I was terrified and definitely thought that it was about to be a real live scene from the horror film appropriately titled "Hostel" but at that point the warm water was well worth the risk. Immediately upon getting cleaned up we ventured into the city as we only had one day to see everything that we had wanted to see. Liverpool was a dark and dingy town full of factories and trash, probably how we should have pictured it. Nearing Albert Dock proved to be promising. With the boats lining the coast and the carousels lining the streets it was actually quite picturesque. As we neared The Beatles museum I became very anxious. Why I had not realized that I was in Liverpool, the hometown of one of my favorite bands and arguably the greatest band in history, I don't know. We got into the museum and I was immediately reminded of my love for them and their talent. Their lyrics were scattered along the walls with images of them and sounds of screaming fans coupled with their beautiful melodies. It's a shame that I was not alive when they were in their heyday. After the museum Sarah and I decided it best to go back to the hostel to try to our first decent night's sleep in weeks and that is exactly what we did. Having both slept over ten hours we were ready for the five hour bus ride back home. 

So there you have it readers. Hopefully I have given you a taste of what life has been like for me during my Spring break. For now I must buckle down on schoolwork (Shockingly, I do have schoolwork. I know you were all wondering about that!) and in just 28 days from today I will be returning home. 

La Bella Vita!

As you have probably found out from my incessant complaining that I want to go back, I spent the past week in Italy. No, I did not go to Rome, Milan, Venice, or any place like that. The place where I went was in the Reggio di Calabria and was called Sellia Marina. This part of Italy is at the southern tip, nuzzled right along the coast of the Mediterranean Sea. You may be asking yourself how I ended up in such a small, fairly unheard of area. Well, my Uncle's wife was originally from this town and she still has family who live there. After talking with my Aunt Patty as a liaison, Sarah and I were finally ready to head to the one country that I've been dreaming of going to for as long as I can remember.

Our flight was booked to leave at 6:05am and with the Stansted Airport being two hours away and the trains and underground not running past midnight we knew that we would have trouble making it to the airport, but we did not know how much. As we stood awaiting the 2:18 bus we realized that we were a the wrong stop and had just missed the one that we needed. We then sprinted for about a half mile with luggage in our hands only to catch the wrong alternate bus. After being on this night bus for over an hour on a Friday night with nothing but drunk people, we decided just to get off. So there we stood, confused, and with literally no direction. The clock was ticking so we hailed a cab knowing that it would cost us a pretty penny, but we had no other alternatives. We made it to the airport with minutes to spare but for some reason or another it was jam packed. We waited and waited in line to check in our luggage only to find that we were in the wrong line the entire time. Cue panic. We just knew that we would miss our flight. Luckily, we found our way in the nick of time. We checked in our baggage and noticing our panic, a nice old man working at the airport let us skip line for the security check. Every other time I've gone through a security check I've just had to walk through, but when I'm in a hurry is that the case? Of course not. I had a full body search which lasted all of less than a minute but seemed like a lifetime. Sarah already had my stuff in hand and we then sprinted through the crowded airport. (I would like to note that I generally make fun of the people who do this. Karma.) After all of this, we still managed to find two seats on the plane that were next to each other, what a relief. After having not slept for over 24 hours I was exhausted but completely ready for what awaited me. Arriving in Italy we knew that two people were waiting to pick us up. We had assumed this would be a fiasco to find them since we knew they didn't speak English and we do not speak Italian, but somehow they could tell who we were. Apparently being American has a quite obvious look.

Driving along the Italian countryside for an hour was surreal. It was so strange to see the lemon and orange trees, the sheep along the rolling hills, the road tunnels built into the mountains, and the sun shining so brightly. I was already in love with the country. We got to Sellia Marina where we met the owner of the Bed and Breakfast that we stayed and he showed us to our room. Italy at last. I had never been more excited. We walked around confused, hungry, and tired but would not let that stop us from exploring the new territory. We walked up a large hill into town center which overlooked the sea. It was breathtaking.
That night the owner picked us up and took us to a bar in town where we met a group of guys our age. Immediately there was a language barrier. What's more awkward than a bunch of 21 and 22 year old guys and girls meeting for the first time? The answer to that would be not being able to understand a single thing that anyone says. There was one guy there that knew quite a bit of English so that alleviated some of the awkwardness but it all went downhill when I began to speak so much broken Spanish/English to them to that they told me to just stop. I'm embarrassing in every country -_-

The next day was Easter and as we were in Italy, yes, the entire country shuts down. We laid in bed a slept for most of the day because we did not know if walking around would appear to be disrespectful to anyone. We had bought some frozen cordon bleu the day before only to find out that we did not know how to operate the stove. Starving and in desperation we decided to eat the frozen patties. It was as disgusting as you could assume. After this we went back to sleep for the remainder of the day.

The next day the boys that we met the first night invited us to a barbecue with them on the beach. Apprehensive due to the language barrier, we agreed. When in Rome (Sellia Marina) right? The boys had brought a puppy to the barbecue which obviously made the lack of communication less tense because we played with it the entire time as the boys cooked us not one, not two, but EIGHT courses of meat on the open fire. I had never eaten so much food at one time in my entire life. It was delicious but I was completely stuffed but fortunately for me, I had only had three bites of a frozen chicken patty the day before so there was room. Somehow we had made a heap of friends in Italy already, I knew I would love this place.

The next few days were filled with napping on the beach, playing around in the waves, eating a bunch of pasta, panini's, pizza, and gelato and hanging out with our new friends. It was the perfect vacation. On the last day Sarah and I were very nostalgic as we packed to leave. We decided to take one last walk around Sellia Marina to soak up as much of the beauty and 60-70 degree weather that we could before trekking back to London. On our walk we were able to see a handful of the people we had met one last time, unfortunately that made me more sad. I didn't want to leave those people. They had welcomed me as one of their own faster than anyone in any other place I have ever been. As we got into the airport, I shed a few tears but soon though to myself, why? I didn't cry when I left the States to move to London and I was leaving behind my family and best friends so why now? I do know why, because the thought of never seeing the people who made that one week the best week of my life ever again was devastating.

I will go back to Sellia Marina and I will see them again. That place will forever be in my heart as the best kept secret in the world. I've always heard that when you fall in love with someone, you get a certain feeling and you just know that you're supposed to spend the rest of your life with them and I now believe this saying can also apply to places as well. I am supposed to live in Italy. That area has everything I could ever want and so much more. The people that live there may not agree with that statement but no one ever fully appreciates where they come from. As a young girl I never really had the urge to travel outside of the United States aside from Italy and now that I have traveled I knew that it's the place for me and I apparently knew all along. There's and Italian phrase that I appropriately titled this blog with and it is "la bella vita" or rather "the beautiful life" and that saying sums up the week that I spent in Italy and I cannot wait until the day I am able to go back and see what else is has to offer but for now I have less than two days to rest and then I am off to Ireland.

Arrivederci!

Espana!

My Easter Holiday/Spring break, whatever you wish to call it, started with my voyaging from London to Madrid. Waking up at 3am was less than desirable. In fact, the only thing worse than that was being pelted by the mixture of rain and snow as I walked to the train station. After taking a train, the underground, and yet another train for over two hours, I finally arrived at the airport where I waited for roughly another hour to find out which gate my flight was boarding at. After this, I stood in the freezing cold area, nothing more than a hallway, with hundreds of others awaiting our flight. We did not board through a tunnel bu rather we walked up a portable stairway into our plane. I used to attach this image to being famous and boarding a posh, private jet but this was not even close. I stood on the stairway in the rain while people pushed and pried their way to seats, which were not reserved. I feel that I must add that  flight company that I booked with is rather cheap here in Europe, therefore the accommodations matched the price. So finally, I am in my seat and ready to get to Madrid where the weather is hopefully way better than what I can see from my window. But what would this trip have been without a two hour delay? That's right, I sat in my seat for two hours awaiting a deicing truck to come clean off the plane so that we could leave. I was not thrilled. 

Eventually I arrived in Madrid where I had no trouble finding my friend who was waiting for me. Daniela was a foreign exchange student at my high school a few years back as I may have already mentioned. She is a native of Germany but is currently studying in Spain so we figured, what better place to meet up than the capital of Spain? We arrived at our hostel where our room looked as if it was straight out of the 70s and then headed out on the town. The weather was a bit chillier than I had expected but still far better than snow. We saw many monuments on the first day and had a wonderful catching up on all of the time that had passed since we last saw each other. 

The next day was followed suit weather wise and was sunny, although a bit windy. We went to a market that filled many of the streets. This market told a lot about the culture of Madrid and also is where my Spanish speaking skills began to work their way back into my brain. I had thought that all hope had been lost and that the years that I spent learning the language a waste, but that proved not to be so and I got along fine for the most part. After this we visited a large park in the city which was beautiful. The flowers, the sights, the sounds, it all was exactly how I had imagined Spain to be. Also, at dinner we were serenaded by a mariachi band who was playing for a family celebrating a birthday. This day was definitely my favorite day here.

The next two days were filled with nothing but rain. The weather was colder than expected and the rain only got worse instead of better. I had no jacket since I had refused to bring one thinking that somehow it would force the weather to be so that one wasn't needed (this plan failed miserably, I might add) and I had somehow forgot all of my makeup back in London. Cold, wet, and a bit insecure after having not worn any makeup for the past couple of days, I was not in the greatest mood. To add to this, I had a man stalk me around the streets for about fifteen minutes before approaching me and attempting to communicate. Needless to say, I understood very few words and eventually ran into a store in order to flee from him. 

Despite the bad weather, or how bad my feet may have hurt by the end of the trip, I had a wonderful time catching up with a great friend. I learned that my Spanish speaking skills are not nearly as bad as I had assumed (maybe I should have kept Spanish as a minor after all) and also that for being a capital city, Madrid has not much to offer other than art museums. Nevertheless, I am happy that I was able to have the opportunity to take this trip. It is not easy keeping in touch with people when your homes are on different continents and I am now able to say that I saw paintings from Degas, Dali, Picasso, O'Keiffe, etc., but also the futbol (soccer) and bull fighting stadiums plus much more. I had churros, bocadillos, paellas, and obviously sangrias, and I feel that I got a true taste for the Spanish culture, both literally and figuratively. 

With Spain now behind me, my next trip will be to Italy. Arrivederci friends, until next time!

Be the change you wish to see in the world.

This week is full of anticipation. Not only does Friday mark 50 days until my return home, but in the early hours of Saturday morning I will be beginning my Easter Holiday by heading to Spain to visit Daniela for five days. However there is much that I must get through in the days to come. A 10-17 page Capstone literature review awaits me and quite frankly that is the last thing I want to focus on right now. And then to think about the presentation, two 1,500 word essays, 3,000 word essay, and exam that I have to look forward to in the three weeks upon my return from galavanting across Europe.

For now however, be it a form of procrastination, a precursor to the insomnia that is sure to ensue as it is already well into the night, or just me, trying to understand my thoughts by way of making them public. I have had numerous occasions since coming to London where I have felt less than comfortable. This discomfort has not been due to me stepping out of my small town comfort zone, shockingly. Actually, I am finding that I am getting along quite well living in the city, bustling through hoards of people as if us humans were mere animals flocking toward the watering hole. This discomfort is on a much deeper level unfortunately and it is not something that I have come across before.

Growing up in a rural town and then choosing a private-liberal arts college has not offered me the chance to come in contact with much diversity. The "minorities" (I use this term loosely because I find it degrading, although fitting in this application) either by race, religion, or sexual orientation have always been few and far between, although always welcome in my life. As I mentioned in a previous blog, just a simple ten minute walk to school becomes a whirlwind of culture here. On average I would say that I hear a range from about five to ten different languages spoken a day and I see people from every continent as well. Although religion is much more difficult to spot by appearance that has probably been the largest different from what I am used to. Don't stop reading now, this is not going to turn into me preaching in any way, no pun intended. Instead, this will hopefully reach out to you and possibly make you think.

Irregardless of your personal view on religion there is no denying that it is a driving force in society. Religion at it's core definition is the act of having faith in something supreme. In my Understand Religious Experience course last year (one of my favorite college courses thus far) we discussed various world religions; Hindu, Buddhism, Judaism, Muslim, and Christianity and Catholicism. From this I took that everyone that adheres to a religion has one goal and that is to practice their faith devoutly and to eventually become one with whatever or whoever they worship. The rules may be a bit different, the practices a bit different, but the goals, no. Those are the same. Within these religions are many sub-religions as well, with variances here and there but again, ultimately there is little difference. My question then is what is the point in arguing over which faith, faith being the operative word, is correct? To have faith in something purely means to believe in it and as everyone knows, belief is not a static concept.

That notion brings to my mind the idea of opinions. Everybody has opinions, as they should, and they are entitled to them. So say you have an opinion about something and you meet someone who disagrees and then proceeds to tell you that your opinion is wrong. How would you feel about that? Would it make you think any less of your opinion? No, probably not. In fact, all it would do is probably make you think less of that person. Well my friends, the same goes with religion. Everybody is entitled to their beliefs and their opinions but nobody has the right to criticize someone else's. Nobody.

Organizations such as the United Nations and The Peace Corps have been striving toward making the world a safer and more peaceful place for people to live but you know what? It doesn't need to come down to someone imposing ideals of what peace should be like. All it takes is for one person to realize that their judgement's will not change the way another person views the world, only the way they view the person casting the judgement. If enough people viewed the world like this, peaceful coexistence would eventually become natural, maybe not in our lifetime, but isn't the thought of it's possibility enough?

Maybe this is purely my opinion and therefore I may sound a bit hypocritical, but I am not asking you to agree with me. When discussing this very topic the other day a brilliant man whom I admire very much said to me, "The people who are willing to have their minds changed and probably not the ones who need it."

I couldn't agree more. Being closed minded hasn't done much for the world thus far but some people are so closed minded that even the notion of opening up to a novel idea is enough to turn them away. I am hopeful that with our generation we will see a change. People will accept the things that are foreign to them just as they would anything else and most of all people will learn again to love one another despite difference in opinion, appearance, or whatever else.

We all live in this world, we all breathe the same air. Why should anyone fill it with hate? By spreading venomous words or actions the world becomes a toxic place although this filth may be intended to poison the "enemy" everyone will inhale it.

Living the Dream

It's been awhile, folks. I have been somewhat of a recluse to the blogging world not for reasons of avoidance but because I have been too busy living. It seems that after nearly two months I have finally adopted the feeling of "locality". It has finally set in that I live here and am no longer a tourist.

I first realized this last weekend when I was in Central London. As I was walking across Westminster Bridge I became very agitated with the people that would suddenly stop walking to take a picture or crowd the streets with confused looks as their cameras pointed at anything made out of stone. My intentions were not to become annoyed at these people, after all I was one of them not too long ago, but I couldn't not help myself. I had places to go and people to see and these people were in the way of that. The sidewalks are just that, sideWALKS not side-stop and take pictures so nobody can-walks. Through the last week my realization of becoming a local has strengthened. Buying groceries is just buying groceries and walking to class is just walking to class. I am no longer mesmerized by mundane activities, and whether you think that may be a sad thing to have happen, it is not. In fact, I welcome it. It means that I fit in now, it means that I have finally found my place in this new world of mine. All of these discoveries of my new found adaptation manifested throughout this past week as I found myself walking around various areas of London, Soho, Covent Garden, Trafalgar, Westminster, you name it, without needing any sort of guidance or a map. I have never has such feelings of pride. 

Although I found myself fitting in here, in two weeks I will be leaving. No, not to go back to the States, but rather to go on Easter Holiday. For this break we get three weeks of schooling to do as we please. Most students will go back to their hometowns, but for me this is not a feasible option, and therefore my break will be somewhat different. On March 23 I will be traveling to Madrid Spain to stay with my old friend, Daniela. If you are someone who has known me for awhile you might remember that Daniela was a foreign exchange student from Germany when I was a sophomore in high school and her, Missy, Grace, and I became very close friends. She is currently studying in Spain and therefore that is where I will voyage to see her. I have only seen her once since she left the States and so I am very excited for us to reunite. After this I will be going to Italy with Sarah. We are going to the southern tip of Italy in the Reggio Di Calabria. Not only have I always been intrigued by Italian culture but my Aunt Patty is from this part of Italy. I am excited to see and learn the things that she once did, even if only during a short period of time. After Italy, Sarah and I will spend two nights in Dublin, Ireland learning firsthand about both of our Irish heritage. To end our break we will be staying with my flatmate, Amelia, in her home in a town called Harrogate in northern England. I will finally be able to see how the English truly live by being a guest in their home and that is an experience I had hoped that I would get to have so I am very much looking forward to that as well. 

I am lucky, you know? Sometimes I don't realize how lucky I really am to have the ability to do these types of things. As I am writing this I think about three years ago when I was a senior in high school and all of my friends were boarding a plane for a two week trip to Europe and how upset I was that I couldn't go, and now look where I am. I am living a dream and I don't know if any of the people who helped me make this dream a reality will ever know how thankful I am. One day I hope to pay it forward in some way or another, but until then I will continue to travel, continue to gain experience, and continue to make memories and friendships that will last me a lifetime. 

Not quite the Ides of March

Today I am feeling extremely homesick. March 1st has always been a joyous day to me for many reasons. Firstly, it marks the end of February. I don't want to be too discriminatory to that month in particular but find me someone who claims it be their favorite month and I will find at least a thousand ways that they are completely wrong, not to mention undoubtedly crazy. February is the worst month because Winter is still in full swing but everyone is completely over it, even those people who enjoy being buried under five feet of snow and being so cold that they cannot feel a single extremity. Don't ask me why these people exist, they just do. Spring is so close and yet so far away but then March comes and suddenly Spring becomes a reality. Sure there is still snow and  insurmountable rain and yes, everything is still physically unappealing with horrid shades of brown as far as the eye can see but with March that all generally goes away. Unfortunately for me, I am England (and when I say unfortunately, I only mean it in this sense-I am very fortunate to be here!) where the grass may always be green but the sky is always gray and the wind is always blowing at least 50 miles per hour. So no, I did no experience the dreadful snow storms that hit back home but the best part of Winter is seeing it end and that is not something that will occur for me.

On a less superficial note, March 1st marks the day that my wonderful Grandparents got married 44 years ago. They were true high school sweethearts and are an inspiration to me and to anybody else who may have any doubts about what true love is like. Five years after they were married they brought my mother into the world and without her I would quite literally not be here. It is also my best friend Missy's 21st birthday and I am quite upset that I am not with her to help her celebrate, especially since she drove me around for hours on end on mine. Lastly, my softball team is traveling to Florida for our annual Spring break training trip. I am very sad that I am not able to be with them and support them. Florida is a wonderful experience for team bonding and by not being there I feel that I will am missing out on a great deal.

But there is a way to cure this homesickness. And what is that you may ask? Well readers,I have just booked my own Spring break trip. My Spring break is rather long and is from March 22-April 14. I will be spending four nights in Madrid with my long lost friend, Daniela, who was a foreign exchange student at West Forest years ago. I will then head to Sevilla to meet up with Sarah and her family for a night. Sarah and I will then go to Italy for a week to stay with my Aunt Patty's family who are nice enough to welcome us into their home. From Italy we will be heading to Ireland to stay in Dublin for two nights and then we will go to Yorkshire to stay with my flatmate Amelia before returning back to London. I cannot even begin to fathom how amazing these trips will be, despite the 55 hour train ride from Spain to Italy. I am still relishing in the fact that there are trains with beds in them to make sleeping more convenient. I know-I make it far too obvious that I have seldom traveled outside of Tionesta.

Whether you are reading this from the States or wherever else you, happy March! I'm sure the birds will now start chirping a little louder and the sun will shine a little brighter wherever you are.

Blackbird singing in the dead of night.

It's been nearly a week since I last posted. It seems that the only bit of schoolwork that I've had so far was all due within the last week which was partially the cause to my delay. It wasn't all work and no play though. On Thursday Sarah and I went to a Chelsea football match. I have been a Chelsea fan since I was about 15 years old so this had been a long time in the making. We got the stadium and were very confused about pretty everything and it was obvious. All of the security guards and staff took advantage of this and capitalized on any chance they had to make fun of "the Americans". It was all in good fun, thankfully. We got to our seats and noticed immediately that there were very few other women at the game, not surprisingly. To our surprise however was that the stadium does not serve alcohol for many of the games. This did not stop the hoards of men surrounding us from being very obviously drunk though. As these grown men would sing songs about their love for Chelsea the sound was quite similar to the sounds that could be assumed to come from an old English shipyard. Chelsea was playing Sparta Praha from Prague. They scored in the first half but Chelsea answered in the final minute of the match with a beauty from Eden Hazard. This game was one of the greatest experiences I've had while here in England so far despite being herded like sheep afterward in the street for over an hour. And yes, there were police officers horseback forming a blockade. It's becoming more and more obvious that the English have a difficult time breaking from tradition.

On Saturday I went to Oxford College with my British Life and Culture class. We were given a guided tour of part of the College campus as well as the college of Christ Church which was home to 13 Prime Minister's. Oxford also was home to many great minds such as CS Lewis, JRR Tolkien, Lewis Carroll, and many more. Being the oldest university it had much history to offer. While the historical aspects were quite interesting, the most exciting part for me was that scenes from the Harry Potter movies were filmed in various areas of the College. It was brilliant to imagine the actual filming while picturing them as I saw them in the movies.

Now I am unwinding from a fairly tiring evening by watching the movie Across the Universe. If you have never heard of it, it was produced in 2007 and is a musical featuring songs from The Beatles. It has always been one of my favorite movies as The Beatles are one of my favorite bands but to watch it here and now makes me see it in a different light and evokes different emotions. I am now able to understand more of the cultural references and distinctions made between the United States and England as pointed out in the movie.  It truly is a masterpiece and a just reflection of the impact of the late 60s as pointed out in the lyrics of many of the Beatles' tunes.

This week will be dedicated to schoolwork and planning for Spring break so another blog post probably won't be made until next week.

Tally ho!

Bliss.

As mentioned in my previous post, I had come down with an awful cold at the end of last week. After visiting Globe Theater and Parliament I quarantined myself to my tiny room much similar to the size of a jail cell although decorated much nicer I like to think. I didn't waste all of my time sleeping but I surely did not have the ambition to catch up on any school work either. That's always the kicker. When I'm feeling good I don't want to waste my time here doing frivolous things, I want to explore! I mean, yes, I am here to study and I do take that seriously but my work will get done irregardless so why should I let the thought of it ruin a chance to learn about what cannot be taught inside a classroom? I make a good point, eh? Back to the point.  Over forty-hours without leaving my flat, much less my room. And I won't tell you that none of that time consisted of showering because that would be gross, and I am a human being not a filthy animal.

Sunday rolled around. I woke up feeling rejuvenated and even somewhat joyous but the motivation to do much of anything was still lacking. I did however watch over twenty episodes of The Hills as well as draw and color a very mediocre picture of a sugar skull. I am sure those are not the images that come to mind when you picture the daily activities of someone who studies abroad. It's the sad truth. Not every day can be filled with adventure, or at least I tell myself that.

Today, as you may or may not know depending on when you are reading this, is Monday. I have a lecture from 9-11 followed by a seminar from 11-12. This class is Issues in International Politics. I have mentioned my extreme dislike for the teaching method here already so I won't delve into that, but today was different. Midway through lecture a fire alarm sounded sending mass hoards of students outside of the building in no real panic just excitement to be freed from the excitement presented in the video on Guatemala that had recently entered it's tenth boring minute. After standing outside eavesdropping on numerous conversations we were allowed back into the building and I trudged to the room in which my seminar is held.This is where my wonderful day began. (Note: As I say that I realize that I failed to mention that somehow, for some reason, today was one of the greatest days I have ever experienced in my life to date.) In our seminar we were each given articles to read and analyze critically in order to see how we would be able to provide an annotation for them. Although the actual annotation was not required for this exercise I went ahead and wrote one because they are fairly easy to do. When the professor came to me and asked what I had gathered from the article I told her that I wrote an annotation for it already and read it for her. To my surprise she seemed oddly taken aback by it and proceeded to praise me for my quick and concise work. I was pleased with my work don't get me wrong but she acted as if I had just written a Nobel Peace Prize worthy piece of literature which clearly was not the case. 

My day continued when I left seminar and found my way to Sarah's apartment. I had cooked a couple of meals over the past few weeks so she felt it necessary to return the favor and therefore lunch was on her today. As we sat in her kitchen we were bombarded in the worst way, by a freaking pigeon. I would like to let you in on a secret. I HATE PIGEONS. Like, more than anything else in this world. They are gross, disrespectful creatures that only care about eating, and although that description probably fits a handful of people you know they are so much worse. I laughed hysterically as the pigeon tried to wiggle it's way through the window without Sarah noticing until it was halfway through. Luckily her shrieks were enough to scare it off. As the sun shined through the now nearly closed window Sarah and I decided that the day was too beautiful to waste on things such as homework, laundry, and any other daunting responsibility. But what to do? Never having a concrete plan, we decided to venture into central London and decide where to go from there.

We arrived in Waterloo Station and made our way outside to a map. We stood there for a few minutes planning a route to head north to Piccadilly Circus (not an actual circus). As Sarah attempted to ingrain the map images into her head I sang her sweet melodies only to soon be mocked by a homeless man who then continued to scream out how I was the problem with society today. While this may or may not be true, not even these harsh words could stop me from having the not so private concert that I somehow had no inhibitions about. As we began out adventure Sarah thought that Big Ben and the London Eye looked too picturesque to not capture so she stopped herself as I continued to cross the street. As she did this, her foot nicked a bicyclists wheel knocking him and his bicycle to the ground. Not knowing what to do, I naturally continued walking and pretended to not know her. What else are friends for? We walked around Piccadilly Circus and China town for awhile, after having a quick stop at a frozen yogurt joint and basically explored the territory more than doing anything of real substance. 

The walk back from Piccadilly Circus is where my joy truly set in. We found ourselves in an area by the name of Convent Garden. Here there were steel sculptures spelling out the word "love" which were donned with silver hearts pad locked onto them. These hearts contained messages from various people to the ones they love, about the ones they love, and about love in general. The background noise of this beautiful area filled with cobblestones and shrubbery was an elder man singing love ballads accompanied by his acoustic guitar. In this very moment I felt infinite. No, I am not Stephen Chbosky but those words that he wrote were accurate for the way I had felt. I knew that at that point in time I was exactly where I was supposed to be. Maybe it was the sentiment of love itself that made me feel this way. Maybe it was the setting, the scenery, the music. Maybe it was the way that people looked at each other. It was quite possibly a mixture of these things, but I believe it was more than that. I finally feel truly happy with my life and the direction that it's headed. This experience has given me a chance to reflect on my life and those who are in it. As cliched as it may be, I am blessed. I have a family who supports me and all of the wild decision that I make on a whim (like moving to London for instance), friends who make it a point to remain in my life during all of this when at times it would be easier to stop making attempts at contact even if we fail to remember that there are other forms of communication besides Snapchat (Alex, if you're looking for a shout out, here it is), and a college that I miss dearly filled with professors who challenge but believe in me and have made me realize my true potential. My heart is in a wonderful place right now as well which leaves me no room for pessimistic feelings of any sort and for that I am thankful because usually when I start to feel this way I would become fearful that the feeling would not last, but why should it not? I am in control of my emotions and feeling this blissful is something that I cannot let fear drive out of me. 

Though this be madness, yet there is method in't.

So this post will provide a mixture of elements. It will partially provide accounts of my adventures but it will also contain a bit of my opinion on certain subjects. Hopefully you all find that entertaining to read about as well. If not, feel free to let a girl know.

So Thursday was Valentine's day. Isn't that a loaded opening line. For some I'm sure it fills your mind with thoughts of the gifts you got, the gifts you gave, spending the day with the one you love. For others I'm sure you hate me right now for bringing it up. You thought you finally escaped it. The day came and went and you thought you were free to live your life without thinking about it for another 364 days. Believe me, I'm right there with you. The holiday, meant for love in general, leaves no chance of feeling indifference. In America it's considered a capitalistic treasure as people flood the malls spending money on flowers that will soon die, chocolate that will soon be eaten, and cards that will soon be put in a drawer never to be seen again. You thought those were good gifts too, huh? Not when I put that perspective on them. Most people will go out to dinner. Spending money and eating, America's two greatest principles, right? Well readers, I thought I had escaped the capitalistic nature of Valentine's day when I left America and it's behavior of consumption behind. I was terribly wrong. As soon as February began the signs of Valentine's day reared their ugly heads. You couldn't walk down the street without having advertisements for the day shoved down your throat. As the day neared I became hopeful that maybe people wouldn't celebrate the occasion as much as these advertisements had lead on. I sound awfully bitter, don't I? I swear I'm not. Okay, I'm lying. As I recalled Valentine's Day last year I thought about how content I was with my love life, or lack thereof. As I went into the TUB (not a bathtub, the Titan Union Building at Westminster) I saw many people receiving flowers and candy and sharing their love but I saw equally as many people crying or fighting it seemed. And no, I am not that bad of a person. I did not get enjoyment of their despair at all, I did however get enjoyment out of knowing that I felt neither emotion. I was happy with where I was in my life. No overly abundant in love but not upset about that fact either. Valentine's Day this year offered a different scene however. I began my day feeling more bitter than usual about my lack of a male companion in my life. I had it set in my mind that I would not leave my apartment until I realized that I had class that day thus forcing me to do so. As I trudged outside I was immediately hit with the traditions of how this country celebrates Valentine's day, and let me tell you, it was similar to feeling like I was hit by a bus. I did not walk past one man who wasn't carrying a bouquet of flowers or past one couple who wasn't holding hands. Everyone was laughing and smiling in a way that seemed to mock me as I scowled at each and every one of them. Somehow I had made it through the day alive. Maybe it was the ten cupcakes I ate or the bottle of wine I drank to myself. I'm kidding, I'm not that pathetic. I only ate two cupcakes and I only drank half of a bottle of Malibu rum. What kind of person do you think I am? The classiest, of course.

So I'm sure that none of you cared to read about how volatile about love I truly am. For the few of you that made it through that rant, I do have an adventure to tell about. On Friday morning bright and early I boarded a train to Central London donning an acute hangover and an extremely runny nose. Cute, right? For my British Life and Culture class we had tickets to tour Parliament and Shakespeare's Globe Theater. At Parliament we had a fabulous tour guide who gave us an interactive history lesson about the parliament as well as accurate accounts of how it is utilized today. Here in Britain they have a bicameral system, much like in the States. These parties are the House of Lords and the House of Commons which are both held in Parliament. The House of Lords is an unpaid position which 707 members. These are mostly people who have inherited their positions. This house was historically held in esteem. The House of Commons is now representative of the true government and is run by 659 elected members who act as a voice for each constituency in the UK. The building was grand and full of history, as most buildings here in England are. After this we walked to the Globe Theater. The day was absolutely beautiful and perfect for a travel alongside the Thames river. Although the theater is a re-creation of the original theater once worked in by Shakespeare himself, it is historically as accurate as it can possibly be. There was nothing grand about the open air building that offered uncomfortable wooden seats and a lack of any real decoration but that's what was so magnificent about it.

One thing that I have noticed is that it appears that I am allergic to this country. Upon being freed from my facial infection I have contracted a cold that has left me without much of a voice (my worst nightmare) and thus have been bedridden and will continue to be until I feel better or until class on Monday, whichever comes first. I hope that after this horrendous post you all find it in yourself to read my blog in the future. I promise they will not be as crude ;)

Ps. I am sorry that every paragraph begins with the word "so". Apparently I am lacking a broad range of vocabulary today.

AmsterDAMN

As you may have known if you read my previous blog, I spent the weekend traveling across parts of Europe to Amsterdam, Netherlands. I did this through a tour program which made for easier travels as the itinerary was laid out for me leaving for me to do as I please without worrying much about anything besides getting to and fro on time. I will never be able to explain the entirety of my experience to you, but I will try. 

On Friday morning before five am I awoke in preparation to catch my 5:45 train to central London. As I woke, read my daily paper (or should I say checked my Twitter feed) it occurred to me that everyone back home was just beginning their night out. In a daze a gathered my suitcase and staggered to the train station. While it may not seem like an accomplishment to anyone else, I caught the train by myself and for that I was extremely proud. Being from Tionesta, public transportation baffles me and I would much rather drive my car from place to place, but I suppose this is all part of the experience. To me catching the train alone was a glimmer of growing independence. 

Arriving at Waterloo station I met with Sarah and at 7am we boarded our coach heading to Amsterdam. There were 96 students in total on this trip coming from three various universities around London. We drove for two hours or more across the England countryside to the Port of Dover where we boarded a ferry, coach buses and all. The Port of Dover is quite famous for various reasons. It features quite large cliffs that are entirely white and consist of a natural chalky substance making them stunningly beautiful. Adding to their history and beauty is the fact that the cliffs overlook a large body of water connecting to France. These cliffs were once used as a place for the English to spy on Napoleon and the French troops in wartime and apparently proved quite useful. After exchanging my Great Britain Pounds into Euros, going through French customs (fairly easily I might add) and having my passport stamped, we hopped aboard the ferry and set sail for Calais, France. The unsteadiness of the journey paired with my fatigue made my stomach and my mind uneasy but after nearly two hours, we docked and continued to venture across the northern European countryside. We traveled through France, namely Normandy, and into Belgium without question. This type of travel which is nearly identical to traveling from state to state in America is made possible because of a pact called the Schengen Agreement which allows for easy travel to be done between various countries who have included themselves in this. We did not stop in Belgium on the first day but we stopped at a "truck stop" near the border once we arrived in the Netherlands. This was my first contact with a foreign language. I never really took into account how happy I am that I chose to study in a place where the language is natural to me. While running around the extremely fancy area trying to understand signs and order my food with 96 others like a chicken with my head cut off, I got exactly that. Asking for chicken, the lady slopped an entire one onto my plate and as I dug into my meal I felt quite archaic, the only difference being that I used utensils rather than my bare hands. 

We arrived to our hotel around 7pm, taking into account that the time difference was an hour ahead of that in England. The hotel was stunning. As we crowded into the lobby I found myself amazed at its beauty. Again, I felt silly for thinking this but I accredited it to living a fairly sheltered life up to this point. Sarah and I put our bags in our breathtaking room and immediately attempted to straighten our hair in order to prepare ourselves for the night. This routine was rudely interrupted by the smoke coming from the straightener as I nearly put my hair in the contraption. Wouldn't that have been fun. 

The group of 96 divided up between the two tour guides and we boarded the tram to Amsterdam. First let me tell you that Amsterdam is a place that has a little bit of everything for everyone. It is unfair to judge it for any one reason or another, but yes, my very first Amsterdam experience was a stroll through the Red Light District. Almost immediately the wind blew, sending fumes of legal marijuana into my nostrils. I consider that to be my first welcome. Getting a near contact high from the overbearing constant smell I found myself walking in front of numerous cyclists who have no reservations about running pedestrians over. There are probably more cyclists in this city than people who drive cars and they do not stop for anything or anyone as I found out firsthand. Surviving this near death experience my very next sight were ladies in lingerie scattered throughout large windows in buildings lining the streets. They danced seductively, men made derogatory comments, some people didn't think twice about their surroundings, some made purchases, as for myself? I cringed. Not only do I find it degrading to the women as I heard the disgusting things that men were saying about them but as I watched children so merrily walk through the area I felt myself becoming physically ill. I respect how lenient the country is with an attitude of "to each his own" but I found myself very happy to only be a visitor. From this we were left to venture throughout the streets for the night and all I will tell you is that on a Friday night in Amsterdam sex and drugs becomes all that is seen and talked about. 

The next morning we awoke, ate a delicious breakfast from a panoramic penthouse view of the city, and then   ventured by coach to the city of Edam which is in the northern part of the Netherlands, also known as northern Holland. Although we only spent an hour or so in this city, it quickly became my favorite part of the trip. The small town was picturesque. The sheer beauty of the snow falling ever so slightly on the cobblestone streets and canals could not be captured by any image or explanation, it is only something that can be understood in person. The word cozy comes to mind but is a complete and utter understatement. After visiting the cheese and chocolate houses (where I had the absolute best chocolate I've ever had, and believe me when I say that I am an expert on chocolate) I took pictures hoping to one day replicate the images so that they would remain vivid in my head. As I walked through the streets and saw the families surrounding tables in their houses, talking over their morning tea, I couldn't help but become nostalgic of Tionesta. I am finding more and more that I miss the small town atmosphere. 

Leaving Edam we headed to a town called Volendam thirty minutes away. A town alongside a sea port we were urged to try the cultural delicacy of raw heron fish. As I bit down on the slimy piece of uncooked meet I had to fight the urge to immediately spit it back out but apparently others had a more pleasant experience. This town was small like Edam but a bit too "touristy" for my taste. Something about brightly colored sweatshirts and postcards crowding the streets takes away from the rest of the aura. Once again only spending an hour or so in Volendam we arrived back in Amsterdam with most of the day ahead of us.

Immediately Sarah and I walked through the bustling city streets where we found ourselves in line for the Anne Frank house. Standing outside in the snow and cold for over an hour became immediately worth it as we entered the historical gold mine. I have been in many museums in my life, seen many historically representative images, but nothing amounted to the feeling I got from being inside of this house. We all know the devastating story of Anne Frank but to actually see her small, windowless room containing images scattered along the walls that she herself put up, the tiny attic in which she hid from the Nazi's, and to have her actual diary on display with the words of hopeful despair written throughout was a life changing experience.I found myself quite emotional from this, it was a lot to take in. Leaving the house we ventured throughout the city, seeing the sights, meeting people, and attempting to take the everything in as our departure was set for early the next morning. 

Boarding the coach the next morning the atmosphere of the group was quite different. Once excited and talkative, the group was now looking sluggish as we jam packed weeks worth of adventure into practically one day. Leaving Amsterdam and the Netherlands itself we found ourselves in a city called Brugge in Belgium. Having a few hours to explore the once bustling European city known for its cloth exports we attempted to muster up enough energy to enjoy its beauty. So what did I do in Belgium? I had a Belgian waffle of course which was the most delicious waffle I have ever had I might add. Topped with vanilla ice cream, hot fudge, powdered sugar, and whipped cream it was an indulgent meal. From here I naturally found  myself in yet another chocolate shop where I was immediately disappointed that Belgian chocolate was not nearly as delicious as the chocolate I had eaten the day before in Edam. I found very quickly that northern Europe prides itself in its love for comfort food and I wasn't upset about it one bit. 

We left Brugge and Belgium and traveled back across France to the Calais port where the UK Customs gave us all quite a hassle. Apparently the French are much more relaxed about letting people into their country than the Brits are. I found that to be an interesting experience. Upon having our passports re-stamped we boarded back on the ferry. In a state that resembled near death I wanted nothing more than to be comfortable which was made impossible by the rough seas that we were presented with. As we docked and got back on our coach we were not so pleasantly greeted by snow which caused our travel to go from two additional hours to three. Irritable and tired, the weather turned into a rain/snow mix as we left the coaches, drenching us all and adding to my current "homeless" look that I was sporting. The only thing heavier than my feet were the bags under my eyes. I was a sight for sore eyes, that's for sure. I found myself back at my flat at midnight where I could not even speak to my flatmates about my experience I was so tired. 

I am happy to have had the chance to spend this weekend traveling to and from four different countries, immersing myself in various cultures and learning their attitudes toward certain things. I found the native people of these areas to be humorous and fun loving which made the trip that much better, but I do not foresee myself ever returning. The culture of Amsterdam was one that I am not sure that I agree with, but until I see facts and figures of their countries productivity rate and the such I should not cast judgement. Obviously these activities happen everywhere but to see them so bluntly put on display is not exactly something that would like to experience on more than one occasion. 

As it is now Tuesday afternoon I find myself still recovering from my travels which is why it has taken me so long to update you all on my trip. I hope that I was able to create enough of a vivid image for you to understand what it was like there. 

-Tricia

This one's for 'Merica

If you are viewing this blog from America and have never traveled abroad before, this post is for you. Although the intent of my blog is not make anyone jealous in any sort of, it could come off as "braggish" at times so this will point out things I miss about the States that should not be taken for granted. Some of these differences are rather large and some may seem quite trivial but each have already made some sort of impact on my new life.

The first difference worth noting is that nothing is open late over here. Actually, there is a very short period of time in which you must allow yourself to do any sort of shopping. Sunday's are relatively similar in this regard in the states. Most things are either closed or open from 12:00-5:00. On Monday-Wednesday things open maybe around 9:00 and close around 6:00. Thursday is the late day, don't ask me why, it just is. Thing's stay open until 8:00pm. WOW. How exciting?! Yes, that's sarcasm. Friday and Saturday are quite similar to Monday through Wednesday. Having a fun night of drinking and want something to eat afterward? Forget about it. Need to catch a bus home? Good luck. I am beginning to think work ethic is not something that is held in high esteem over here. 

That brings me to my next thing, drinking. In America if you want to go out you would probably start your "pregame" drinking around 9 or 10, depending on how you're feeling because you are more than likely going to stay out and continue drinking until 2:00am. There is really not much of a need to "pace" yourself because there is a certain rhythmic pattern of drinking that we are accustomed to. Pubs rarely stay open past midnight here, if that, therefore drinking begins much earlier. It is not odd to be at dinner and find that everyone surrounding you is already quite drunk or "pissed" as they would say here. 

Dinner and eating in general is another difference. In America we get our food and we get out which is probably why we have grown to love our fast food chains. Here in England it would not be odd to sit down and eat dinner for upwards of four hours because dinner is a very social thing as well as being a type of "pregame" to a night out. The waiters don't bring the bill (it is never referred to as a check here) to your table because it is considered rude to do so as it appears as an attempt to rush you. You must ask for the bill if you would like it. One nice thing is that tipping is not necessary here and in fact not expected. The downfall to this is that everything includes a 20% tax, so although it does not appear that you are paying any tax at all, it is included in the ticket price. 

There are places for quick meals here though. America's esteemed restaurants such as McDonald's, Burger King, Subway and even KFC line the busy streets but they do not often offer what is common on an American menu and if they do, the portions are much smaller. I ordered chicken nuggets and instead of the normal ten piece that accompanies a value meal I found only six. I am not complaining about this though as I have only witnessed maybe four people that could be considered obese while I've been here and at home it is essentially an epidemic. Starbucks is quite popular here as well but again, the menu is very different. What I noticed first in Starbucks that I quickly realized applies to many other places as well is the lack of trash (rubbish) cans. You are expected to leave your trash on the table for someone who works there to take care of. I am not sure why this is how it is but maybe that, along with the fact that the work ethic seems to be low, could explain why customer service here tends to be quite poor. 

Obviously you can cook for yourself, as I have done many of the nights that I have been here, but good luck navigating your way around the supermarket. Popcorn in a bag? Boxed potatoes of the scalloped or au gratin variety? Peanut butter? Cookie dough? Or basically anything else that is quick and easy? Forget about it. Again, maybe I shouldn't complain. No preservatives and no excuse to be lazy. Even the coffee is strange here. There are NO coffee makers. What happens is you boil water in a kettle and then pour it into a cup filled with finely ground coffee. That's it. How convenient. I wouldn't advise ever actually letting the water boil however or else you'll find yourself with a mouth full of third degree burns. Believe me, I know firsthand. 

Today I did laundry for the first time since I've been here and as disgusting as that sounds, I wish I would have put it off longer. The washing machines hold two pair of jeans (trousers) at most. Okay, that's an exaggeration but not by much. And it costs £2 per load! £2 would be nearly $4. The washer has a strange place to put the detergent in and unless you are already skilled in knowing where it goes, good luck. I'm not even sure where my detergent ended up. To dry the clothes it is 20 pence per every 6 minutes. Again, 20 pence would be sort of like 40 cents. I dried my laundry for 30 minutes costing my £1. This essentially stopped them from still dripping but that's about as far as that went. £5 for laundry? Extortion. And people claim that American's are the Capitalists. 

A much more different thing that I've noticed here compared to America is the way that guys hit on girls. I've had numerous occasions when I'm grocery shopping or doing some other trivial task in broad daylight where a guy will past me making kidding noises. Is that supposed to turn me on? Am I supposed to be flattered that you are making noises to me that I would make to a dog? And don't even get me started about how they hit on girls in clubs. I've been kissed on the cheek by more strange men than I can even count. They don't even say anything, they just walk up to you and kiss you. This is definitely not my ideal way of having a man approach men. In fact, I am finding myself more and more appalled by it. 

If they aren't doing these things, or if someone is just simply greeting you, they use the expression "Are you alright?" This is apparently an alternative to the American phrase "What's up?" Well, even though I know this, I always answer with a simple "yes" and that's that. Everyday each of my roommates and me that, meaning what's up and I say yes. That's super awkward on my part. I'm waiting for the day when that stops.

And now for the biggest difference that I've found and my biggest pet peeve (aside from the fact that they still spell tire, tyre) which is the difference in schooling styles. On a typical day at Westminster I would be working at least one of my jobs, if not both, have softball practice, have a host of meetings to attend for various reasons, have class (anywhere from 1-5 hours Monday through Friday), have a plethora of homework, etc. On a typical day here at Kingston, I have two, maybe three, hours of class-only on Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday's, and that's where my obligations end. There is no homework, no papers to write, no exams to study for. While in class there are no questions to answer, the information is just read verbatim from a powerpoint which is made available online and therefore there in no reason to actually attend class because attendance and participation account for no portion of your grade. The professor's are not addressed as such and there is literally no structure. If you are ten minutes late to class you are twenty minutes early and if you are not on your cell phone in plain sight, you are the minority. Yesterday in my class a boy was chugging wine in the second row. Not one comment or strange look went his way. To me this is all extremely strange. I am happy to be having the experience on a different teaching style and I am also happy to know that it is not a permanent thing. You may think that having numerous exams and papers in a bad thing but when you find yourself twiddling your thumbs for most of the day you begin to miss the hectic nature of it all. 

There is much I enjoy about being here though. I've obviously already touched on certain aspects I've encountered but another one happened today. I woke up feeling energized and decided to go for a run. On my journey I literally stumbled upon King Henry VIII's palace. That does not happen in America. It was quite a beautiful surprise. 

I will not be blogging again until Sunday or Monday because I will be away at Amsterdam all weekend! Rest assured I will have much to tell you when I arrive back. 

-Tricia

PS. I would like to add that everyone in America should enjoy all of the chances at free wifi because over wifi is gold and very hard to come by! And sometimes a girl just wants to send a snapchat while she's walking down the street and that's just not a possibility. 

Vast land of Culture

On Saturday my friend Sarah and I ventured into central London. This trip was my very first train ride.That was completely underwhelming. I guess my mental image of the old-style train, laid out across the vast countryside, leaving the tracks on its way to Hogwarts is to blame for this.It was similar to riding in the Underground but only you could see the graffiti plastered walls much clearer.

Our first stop was at the famous Abbey Road. As a self-proclaimed Beatles fanatic I was ecstatic to be standing where I was absolutely sure that Paul McCartney once stood. It was quite difficult to get a picture that mimics theirs as the traffic congestion proved it almost impossible but I managed to get a picture at least, even though it's not the best and was not without much horn honking and angry gestures.  

From here we took the Underground to Goodge Street to visit a thrift shop. Why on Earth would we go out of our way to go to a thrift shop? Is it our undying urge to find the best prices? Inspiration from Macklemore? Neither of those things are applicable to this situation although they do validate my love for Goodwill in the States. We went to a thrift shop called BangBang Exchange because Ke$ha has proclaimed her love for this exact shop on numerous occasions. 

So yes readers, you read correctly. Not only did I visit the stomping grounds of the highly famous Beatles but of Ke$ha as well, all in the same couple of hours! 

After this we went to a town called Camden to go to the Camden Market and although some of the stuff was pretty cool I think that I would have been fine without ever having done so. The Camden Market is nothing more than a large flea market but is famous because it is held in the historic Camden Stables. Imagine thousands of people, freezing cold temperatures, horse stables, and your typical flea market atmosphere and that's what I put up with for four hours with only having had three hours of sleep the night before. It was awful. I was able to get a few posters, a shotglass, some shirts, and a very beautiful Indian wall tapestry for fairly cheap though. We intended to spend the rest of the night in Camden but as it was only five in the afternoon and both of us were dead tired, we traveled on an over crowded train back to Kingston. I have never fully appreciated how few people there are in Tionesta and New Wilmington until now. I definitely took for granted how much I enjoy those peaceful atmosphere's. 

With all of these cultural differences that I am encountering I am finding things that I miss about the States as well as things that I enjoy much more over here in the UK. Once I have had more time to delve into things, I will let you know exactly what these are but I don't want to rush into my judgments unfairly. 

Tally ho,

Tricia

I get by with a little help from my friends.

As you may or may not have read earlier in the week, I felt an immediate urge to pack up and go home. I was dealing with a strange medical emergency alongside extreme tinges of homesickness and I almost felt as if there was no other viable option for me. As I laid awake for three nights in a row, downing pain medication and sobbing uncontrollably all while pitying myself and practically thinking of any way I could book he next flight I seemed to forget about where I am, about what I am doing, and about how this experience is going to change my life-for the better. I forgot how much is invested in this trip and my need to see it through is crucial. I realized while speaking with my coordinator about my fear that I would not be able to continue that I sounded absurd. "I know that I'm living alone in one of the greatest cities in the world but I really think I need to go back to little ol' Tionesta. There are just so many more opportunities for me there." Okay, so I obviously didn't use those exact words, but I might as well have. Am I nuts to even think about leaving? The answer is absolutely. You know what, no, I have never traveled outside of the United States and no, I am not overwhelmingly independent. When I'm at college I call my grandparents at least four times a day. But I am not a quitter and I am not a coward. I choose to do this not only to gain independence, not only to challenge myself academically, and not only gain experience but also to prove to myself and everyone else that I can and will do whatever I put my mind to. So what would that say about me if after two weeks I left? That would be a disgrace.

Last night I had the first good night's sleep I've had (thanks to some splendid white zinfandel)  for over a week and it gave me the clarity I needed.  Yes, my face is still swollen and yes, I still look like a fool but the pain has almost completely subsided. My judgement was no longer clouded and I could finally take into account what the people I love most had said to me when I let them in on my doubts. My family and my friends told me that they support whatever decision I were to choose but they know that I can endure this. But endure is such a gaudy word. You don't "endure" living in London. You enjoy it and that's what I'm going to enjoy every minute I get here because I don't get long. When it's all said and done, I'm sure I'll look back and wish that I had more time. More time to become closer to the wonderful people I have already begun to meet, to explore the places that I only ever thought I could explore in a dream. I am living a dream. Most people only wish to have an experience like this and it is such a shame that I even thought about letting it slip through the cracks.

It's all fun and games...

...until you develop an infection in your facial causing massive swelling and immense pain.

On Saturday a group of us visited Windsor Castle, one of Queen Elizabeth's homes. It was a completely breathtaking experience to walk through the areas where many kings and queens once inhabited. I was able to visit King Henry VIII's grave which is something I have dreamed about doing for many years. On the trip home from Windsor I started to have what appeared to be a terrible headache, I took some medicine and it went away. Throughout the rest of the night the headache became much worse and seemed to have developed into a toothache in the front of my mouth. The pain was so awful that I could not sleep or eat at all. After doing much research on Sunday evening I decided that the cause could very possibly have been my recent nose piercing which had grown to become infected, as I noticed due to a red inflamed area near the puncture hole. The pain was still growing worse and I continued to self-medicate with over the counter pain relievers although I grew weary of that method as I had noticed that I had taken quite a few in a short period of time. On Monday morning, my first day of classes, I awoke with severe swelling covering the entire right side of my face. Scared and still in pain, I visited the Doctor's office causing me to miss my very first class abroad and if you know me, I am not one to miss class for any reason. The doctor concluded it a facial infection and prescribed me the highest dosage of antibiotics in hopes to cure it. As it is now Tuesday afternoon, I have taken four of the twenty-one prescribed antibiotics with no sign of relief. My face is still as swollen as it was yesterday although very thankfully the pain has subsided for the most part.

This is easily one of the most terrifying experiences I have even undergone as not only have I never had something like this occur, but I am also alone in a foreign country when I am in dire need of my family and friends. I am sure once the infection clears up (hopefully sooner rather than later) I will go back to being cheerful and excited for the opportunity I have been blessed with but for now the "honeymoon phase" is over.

For anyone curious I did remove my nose piercing and rest assured, I will never ever get my nose pierced again.

-Tricia

Only just one week.

I haven't blogged since my journey has begun because I have found myself in a whirlwind of vast culture and opportunity but I will try to catch you up on what has happened, how I have already been changed, and what I have been doing.

I somehow managed to navigate the Pittsburgh Airport as well as the JFK Airport by myself without much confusion. I felt quite proud. From JFK I went aboard British Airways and aside from the absolute beauty of New York City overhead at night, the flight here was treacherous. Although British Airways is quite a nice jet, I found myself miserable. The man next to me was wearing entirely too much cheap cologne and every time I fell asleep he somehow managed to elbow me in the ribs and wake me. Dinner was provided although it was like you would expect, cheap airplane food nuked only hot enough to suffice as not being cold. They did keep offering alcohol though and much to everyone's surprise I'm sure, I did not drink once while aboard the plane. Shocking, I know. When I landed I ran around Heathrow Airport like a chicken with my head cut off because the terminals are extremely confusing to navigate, especially as a foreigner. I met with others from the travel group that I partner with for my studying abroad. Most others had numerous suitcases and there I stood with just one. I was intimidated and felt highly under packed which is a usual feeling for me because I hate to leave any article of clothing I own behind.

We took vans to the hotel in the borough of Westminster in London, which became our home for the next three days. Here we did what was called a bridging cultures program. During these three days we toured various areas of London and ate quite exotic foods that I am not used to at all. We had Thai food, Lebanese food, and Indian food. If you know me at all, you would know that I normally wouldn't even get near these foods. Although I truly did despise them all, I'm happy that I gave them a chance. I want to break out of my comfort zone as much as I can while here. Our tours consisted of Westminster Abbey, the Tower of London, the Saint Catherine Docks, a showing of the famous musical Billy Elliot, Big Ben, and Buckingham Palace. Westminster Abbey was absolutely stunning. To stand where Prince William and Kate recently married and where many kings, queens, and others are buried was quite an experience. The Tower of London was as well. As I stood where Anne Boelyn was beheaded it finally set in that yes, I am in London, yes, I am reliving history, and yes, this is my new life. I am happy that my program gave us the experience of the bridging cultures program because it really did help to acclimate me to the new culture in which I now live as well as help me to make lifelong friends.

On Sunday the 20th of January I moved into my new home at my new school, Kingston University. I live in a building called Kingston Bridge House. The way that housing works here is like mini-apartments, which they call flats. I have my own bedroom and share a bathroom and a kitchen with my five flatmates which consist of two boys and four girls, including myself. They are some of the nicest people I have ever met and they immediately made me feel included which I couldn't be more thankful for. They are all younger than me as housing here is only guaranteed for first years because nearly 25,000 people attend Kingston. The rest of the people along my corridor are quite welcoming and lovely as well.

I have spent my past few days getting used to the area in which I now live. There is a shopping center within five minutes from me which contains countless shops, places to eat, pubs, and grocery stores, and most excitingly King Henry VIII's home. This has already proved itself to be tempting because my main love in life is shopping. The campus is ten-fifteen minute walk from my building which is nice because some others, like my American friend Sarah, need to take a bus in order to get to campus. I also have attended many international orientations intended to get us all used to the culture change and the new teaching styles. The Uni (University) here is much different from Westminster. Not only are there much more students but they sell alcohol right in the student union building, obviously very unlike Westminster because the campus and town are both technically alcohol free. I have found that drinking socially is part of the culture here. I know that it probably concerns my family to hear about me drinking while I'm here but it is not the same culture as in America. One of our orientations was held at a pub where we drank with our professors. Sometimes I enjoy it being this way and other times I fear that I will become distracted by it.

I am also finding that people judge me immediately based on me being American and either love me or hate me strictly for that, no in between. I have had people move away from me on The Tube (Subway) because of my accent and I have had people in a pub do a cheeky (sarcastic) attempt to speak and sound American in an attempt to offend me. Because of this I have found a sense of patriotism that I had not had while in America. Although there is much I do not agree about and am finding many different things here that I think would be beneficially for America to adopt, I do love my country and I will defend it to those who do not understand past our stereotypes.

I am definitely becoming cultured here already and I cannot wait to share my future experiences with you all!

With love from London-
Tricia

From being months away and nothing but a glimmer in my mind the trip of a lifetime is just a day away. I will be stuffing my suitcase (undoubtedly with mostly shoes) to the brim and moving across the pond. From a small town of less than 500 people and from a graduating class of 27 most people that I grew up with or around would never have the chance to do something so great which helps to make this experience that much more special for me. I will be studying at Kingston University in Great Britain which is only 25 miles south of London for nearly 6 months. I can hardly believe it. I am the type of person that calls my grandparents about four times a day even though Westminster is just over an hour away and I get homesick after a few weeks without seeing them but I am about to move thousands of miles away for half a year? Hardly sounds like something I’ll be able to adjust to. But I will. I cannot limit myself to this town, this state, and even this country because of fear. Do I fear change? Yes, I most certainly do and from what I have read about living abroad for a substantial amount of time, I will not be the same after this experience but I must accept that it will only make me a better person. I invite you to come with me on my journey not only in travel but in personal growth as well. For now I must prepare myself, London calls.

Cheerio!