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.