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.