Blog mania, part 3

This one’s a long one. Watching the Gregory Brother’s “Can’t Hug Every Cat” will probably suffice for all that I have to say.

In addition to everywhere else, I also went to Turkey. (I told you I would, remember?) It was definitely a cool place to visit, and it was kinda neat to know my grandparents had visited there on their last trip together. I could bore you with talk of amusing merchants, fascinating history, breath-taking views and gorgeous architecture, but I’ll just entertain you with the minute details of my personal life and bodily functioning instead. Just kidding, I’ll do both!

I really did like Istanbul. After travelling throughout other parts of Europe, it was nice to see this other side of it. Some parts reminded me a bit of other cities I’ve been to, but overall it was fairly different. For example, the Turkish everywhere. I only learned one word this time (su=water) but I enjoyed seeing signs that said things like “taksi” and “tramvay” (v’s are pronounced like w’s). The most striking things were the huge number of mosques (they were everywhere) and stray cats (also everywhere). I actually didn’t mind the calls to prayer, probably because they never woke me up at 5 am. They were kind of interesting to listen to, and added some setting and atmosphere to the trip. I must admit, though, that hearing three at the same time from nearby mosques was pretty overwhelming. It’s hard to explain what they sound like, so look it up if you’d like. Do it in the middle of the night, with the sound all the way up, next to your roommate’s head. He or she will love it for sure. I had heard a recording of a call to prayer before, so the sound wasn’t so weird to me as the regularity of the calls.

As for the cats, it was seriously crazy. Another girl and I attempted to measure the number of cats, approximating about 50-60 cph (cats per hour). In case you can’t tell, that’s a lot of cats. There were all pretty friendly and would jump on your lap to be pet. It would have been a nightmare/paradise for that girl who cries about cats in that eharmony video. You know the one. Well, ok maybe not, since you’re reading this instead of watching the Gregory Brothers like I recommended. Anyway, of particular note were all the kittens, sleeping cats, and a pregnant cat in Hagia Sophia. Cute, sad, and oh so cuddly.

My cold continued strong throughout the trip, and my portable pharmacy of six different types of medicine proved handy in caring for myself and other sick people (most of our group). I realized that I do not deal very well with conflict. I hate it, and yet feel powerless to aid in resolving conflicts between others. Some of the events that occurred over the course of the trip were kind of horrible in my opinion, but thankfully I was not directly involved in them. I wish I could explain all of the moments where I have been dumbfounded and wished that problems would simply disappear because I had no idea what to do otherwise. However, it was helpful, I think, to be able to observe the events, dynamics and individual people as well as my part in all that unfolded. By the end, I think I finally felt I was doing the right thing and in the position I wanted to be in, though I think what was important was not what I did per se but what I came to understand. I am still terrible at dealing with this stuff, but I had a fascinating look at people and how they act. I think God is teaching me a lot while studying abroad. In the end, things worked out and finished up nicely despite the chaos in the middle, which to me is a sign that God is working rather than my life turning to shambles or something. These things are certainly not pleasant experiences, but I’m coming out of it much more aware of matters concerning myself, others, and life in general. I’m also coming out of it slightly terrified to interact with others, but you know, that’s kind of normal anyway.

Enough melodrama; time for some lists.

Things I did:

• Visited Asia (Istanbul has parts in Asia and in Europe)
• Saw Hagia Sofia
• Learned how to pronounce Hagia Sophia
• Saw the Blue Mosque
• Posed for a group photo shoot outside the Blue Mosque
• Went to the Grand Bazaar
• Loved the exchange rate (for once)
• Went on a boat ride
• Sung “I’m on a Boat”
• Saw tons and tons of stray cats
• Continuously sung, “Can’t Hug Every Cat”
• Went to the Topkapi Museum
• Learned how to properly wear a head scarf
• And saw a few other mosques etc. whose names I do not recall (and I am too lazy to look up)

Things I ate:

• Baklava
• Turkish Delight
• Turkish pizza
• Kebabs

Things that merchants said:

• Gorgeous, gorgeous. Yes, you are.
• I am still single.
• How can I help you spend your money?
• I'm a good boy.
• Hello baby. (said by some pre-teen boys. over and over again.)
• My name is Christiano Renaldo. I love you.
• Hi, how are you. I'm fine, thank you. (all together in a single breath)
• I'll eat you. Run away.
• Excuse me sir. (Said by a group of girls to a group of female students, after saying "excuse me" in Turkish a few times. It was for an interview for their English class. They were actually cute.)
• I have a paschmina for your mother-in-law.
• Mine is bigger, his is smaller.
• Don't touch, please watch. But I touch.
• This way is the right way.
• You are so sweet. Your blue eyes. (said in passing)
• Welcome to heaven.
• Why do you break my heart?
• Hello charming ladies, I am here.
• Excuse me, you dropped something- my heart.
• Belly dancing? Paschmina? Chicken kebab?
• Spice girls!
• Stop thinking so much, life's too short.
• Tell her that she's beautiful. Ask.
• guy: What's her name? (pointing)

Faria: Juli...

guy: I eat Juli here (points to heart)

• guy 1: Excuse me, you have beautiful eyes. I like your eyes. Your eyes... (as I keep walking along)

guy 2: Marry him!

guy 3: Now it's my turn

30 second summary: I went to Istanbul. It was cool and stuff. I didn’t eat turkey, but I did see a lot of cats.

So many blogs done in a single day! Only one more and I’ll be caught up. So obviously I won’t be doing it for 4 weeks or so.

You really can’t hug them all. But you can try to pet them.

Blog mania 2: Polly voo Francey?

Again, I'm super behind and trying to just throw these up here. I don't know what I'm saying, and you probably won't either. I've heard of fun games where you switch out punctuation with funny words or phrases, so give that a try if you'd like, but I can't guarantee that there are any semi-colons.

About two weeks ago, I was in Paris from a Thursday to a Sunday with Juli and Dana. I really liked the city. It was both old and new and had a wonderful spirit about it. We took a general guided tour and another guided tour of Montmartre, where we were staying. Our first tour in particular was very interesting and our guide told us many funny stories and fascinating facts. It's hard to describe Paris, because it was more felt than seen. It reminded me of Rome combined with Sicily, with both cosmopolitan areas and smaller poorer areas. It was overall very beautiful and quite a unique experience.

It was sort of cool to be able to speak French and for once be able to read the signs while traveling (as in, I don't speak Italian or Catalan). Unlike Barcelona and some other cities, unfortunately, English did not seem to be universally known. I was a little afraid to speak French because it would take me a while to form full sentences and I had trouble understanding people in real time. It was especially hard since I was the only one in our group who spoke any French. Somehow, we managed.

Our last full day, we met up with the illustrious and French-speaking John Thiel and Katrina Medoff to visit a famous cemetery and bookstore. The three of us will live in the theater house when we return to Bucknell. I've known john from intervarsity since freshman year, and Katrina through a combination of arts res and my roommate. Just in case you didn't know and were wondering. They are both doing Bucknell en France this semester in Tours and happened to be visiting Paris for the weekend. After Katrina headed back to tours, John, Juli, Dana and I had a nice dinner and then went to an awesome little jazz club in a medieval cellar. We swing danced a little but I loved just watching all of the marvelous dancers there.

But of course, what would a trip be without a slight disaster? During our dinner with john, I set my purse on a chair with Juli's coat and souvenir bag during the middle of the meal. At the end, I went to pay and discovered my purse missing. We searched inside and around the block with no luck. After done trouble searching and the help of a kind French woman, we found the nearest police station, but alas, it was closed. We tried to call with no avail. Fortunately, it was a small purse, and although it contained items of monetary value, everything in it was pretty easily replaced (I still had my passport, camera and phone). It's frustrating, but it could have been worse. My mom is bringing a new debit card and everything else is taken care of- except my stupid Oyster card for the London underground. Trying to take care of that has been a nightmare, but that's another story. Really though, I was quite thankful that things turned out as well as they did. However I am no longer quite a fan of Transport for London.

Things I saw

• The lock bridge
• A lot of other bridges (and the Seine, of course)
• The Louvre (for 45 minutes, using the secret entrance)
• Notre Dame
• Sacre Coeur
• The Eiffel Tower
• Arc de Triumph
• St. Michel’s fountain
• Moulin Rouge
• Jardin des Tuileries
• And a bunch of other things briefly on our tours

Things I ate

• The best baguette in Paris (and so probably the world) according to a Parisian contest, and lots of other delicious bread
• Ramen
• Wine and raspberry champagne (Well, I only tasted due to being on cold medicine. Did I mention I got a bad cold in France and had to buy medicine in French? Well I did.)
• Beef bourguignon
• Hot dog
• Pommes frites (jk, fries)
• Baguette sandwiches
• McDonalds (before leaving to go to the airport)
• Beignes
• Croissants
• Salmon Provençal (I might be making this up. I probably am. That’s what happens when you wait two weeks to write about things.)

30 second summary: I went to Paris, saw stuff, spoke French, had my purse stolen, survived. I also learned that toilet seats are only optional toilet accessories.

PS:

We had to take a metro and walk from where we checked in to our hostel to the apartment itself, and the person at the desk accidentally gave us the wrong directions. So by the time we got to the apartment, it was around 11pm and we were starving (we had hardly eaten lunch around 11:30 am). This is a picture of our first French meal:

bon appetit : )

Post mania, part 1: The Joys of Introversion

I'M SO BEHIND AND BUSY AND STUFF. So I'm going to try to post things quick instead of spending 3 hours editing each and triple guessing myself. First thought, best thought, right? Right?!? I don't even know if time lines are right any more, I meant to post these ages ago. Alright, here goes.

Musings, as promised.

(Not that I thought you were worried. Or even noticed I said this was coming. It's fine. If I were you, I'm sure I'd pretend to read while watching the Charlie Sheen song.)

About two weeks ago (ps I started to write this the day after. #post fail), I met with Cindy and Joel Hylton of world harvest for dinner. Inter varsity is sponsoring a leadership training trip here in London through world harvest spring break of next semester, and since I'm missing all the meetings at Bucknell and since I'm already here, Jesse set me up with the Hyltons to find out more about the program. Truth be told, we only talked about the spring break program for about twenty minutes though it sounds awesome) and spent a good deal of time talking about England, America and life abroad. We shared stories and I did my best to give them a sense of what our inter varsity chapter is like at Bucknell. I was there for around 4 hours but it was comfortable and nice, and we had easy conversation. It felt like home in a way, and it's nice to talk to different people who have similar experiences as Americans in the UK. It kind of reminds me of having Easter dinner at Cathy and Glen's from Lewisburg Alliance. Living in the middle of London, spending time in a place reminiscent of home in the states without having to leave the country is a wonderful thing.

But the thing that caught me the most was my trip back to the center of London to my flat. I walked straight down a long and fairly empty residential road to the train station past houses and apartment buildings. It was a cool quiet night, and the calm streets were lit well with street lamps and dusted with dead leaves. In places, the air was gently scented with chimney smoke, and I saw a fox mosey about along the way. It may sound a bit creepy to walk a dark deserted street alone, but it was wonderfully comforting to me. That was home for me, as it felt just like suburbia in fall as I remembered it. I was a little sad to miss Halloween etc., and walking down that street brought me right back to trick-or-treating, selling pizzas and talking walks near my house. As I neared the station, cars, shops and various people popped up, reminiscent of the more populated and restless places near home. Fortunately, however, the residential street on route to the station was a long one.

The train ride home was even a little more incredible. I made a point to walk all the way to the end of the platform when my train arrived so that I had a chance to have a whole car to myself. When the tube gets crowded (as it often does), the farthest cars are often you only chance at getting a seat or even standing room, so walking to the end was a normal thing to do. To my surprise, no one joined me in the front car for about 20 minutes. It was wonderfully freeing, as I did not feel remotely self conscious and could take up as many seats as I desired. I had planned on writing notes for later or just playing a game on my phone, but instead I just sat thinking and relaxing. I guess it is the introvert in me, or perhaps the fact that I live in a triple in the center of a busy city, but I loved it. It is certainly a rare moment to be entirely alone in a subway train, let alone for that long. Honestly, it’s rare to be alone period. I need times to be alone and think to feel normal and continue functioning. II became a little antsy and annoyed when people did finally come into my car and sit right near me, but ultimately I left feeling refreshed and recharged, both from the wonderful company of the Hyltons and my quiet ride home.

37.9 second summary: I had dinner with an American couple and later experienced a dose of introverted paradise. Splendid.

Past, present, future.

I’m a terrible blogger. Not that my blog makes a difference in your life, or that I should feel sympathy for you considering my lengthy and frequent warnings against reading, but I am sorry and I wish I could always be funny and interesting. Sadly, it just doesn’t roll that way mi amigo.

But to entertain friends, family, and more probably the government agents trying to determine if I am a traitor, here are some more recent happenings in my life. (btw, I’m on to the grape jelly thing but other than that there’s nothing to worry about- England is cool but I still like America.)

-We had a leak in our bathroom. We collected about a gallon or more of water in 36 hours. They fixed it, though.

-I went to Brighton beach, which was really cool and a place I’ve always wanted to go. We went on go carts and a carousel, touched the water, climbed on rocks, went shopping and had milkshakes. I’ve had better milkshakes, but I did have an amazing cup of coffee with cinnamon to make up for it.

-I lost two bottles of water, two magnets I had bought as gifts, a small bag full of important feminine products and my good, giant umbrella over fall break. I’m most upset about the umbrella, but I’m getting over it.

Here I tell you my future:

-This weekend: Paris from Thursday until Sunday

-Next weekend: Istanbul from Saturday until Wednesday. Note that I leave Turkey the day before Thanksgiving. #irony #whycan’tEnglandcelebrateThanksgiving?

-Following weekend: My mom and brother visit from the Wednesday I return from Turkey until that Monday.

-Following two weekends: Final projects and papers due.

-Dec 16^th: fly home

-Dec 25^th: Christmas! Hooray!

Summary: I’m procrastinating so I’m blogging more, but I think I forgot how to be funny and I don't know how to write real blog things. Tune in next time for some musings on life.

Fall break, part two: failing at film photography, speaking spanish, opening train doors and at life in general.

Our layover in Rome was lovely. It was definitely one of the best days of our trip. The weather was actually kind of hot, and there was no rain despite the fact that I carried my umbrella all day. We saw quite a lot, somehow getting to nearly all the sights on our top ten list, and ate some truly amazing gelato. I had pear and tiramisu, and they were absolutely fantastically delicious. I have no idea how we made it through the day considering we only had three hours of sleep, went through the hassle and exhaustion of air travel, and spent all day sight-seeing. It was great though, and the graffiti in Rome was really cool. Oh yeah, and so were the ancient ruins and whatever.

Next was Barcelona. It is definitely a cool city and certainly worth a visit if you get the chance. We saw a ton here as well, including a lot of works by the architect Antoni Gaudi, who is fantastic (in my opinion; Picasso hated his buildings); a few important churches; a unique and interesting cemetery and the Mediterranean Sea. I loved the beach, but I think Gaudi’s works were my favorite, particularly Casa Batlló and La Sagrada Familia.

By this last leg of the trip, I was exhausted from traveling, and frustration was building up from ten days of stress and planning. Sometimes you just need a good bed, a nice shower and a few hours (or days) of doing absolutely nothing. Not to mention the paper due two days after I returned, which because I asked for more time now loomed over my head. That’s another story. Ok, not really, that’s pretty much the whole thing. The important thing, however, is that Barcelona is great and I ate so much delicious food.

Then it was back to home sweet England, and the wonderful London transport system. Barcelona’s and Rome’s were actually pretty nice, but I am so used to London (and it’s so well designed) that it was lovely to return to it. We actually missed our stop and had to juggle trains on the way home, but the important thing is that I can at least, by now, pronounce those silly English train stations. Fun fact: Barcelona speaks Catalan, which is like a mixture of French and Spanish and whose pronunciation baffles me. Nearly everyone in Barcelona also speaks Spanish and most people speak English as well, thank goodness. I thought I’d practice my Spanish, but as it turns out, it’s better to speak English so they know to give you English menus etc. I heard so many Americans in Rome and Barcelona that I stopped feeling self conscious, which was a good thing because there’s no way I could have figured out what eggplant or crab was in Spanish.

Food summary:

Panini

Gelato

Tapas

Sushi

Binxto tapas

Trip summary: Our day in Rome was wonderful, and Barcelona was fantastic despite exhaustion, frustration and stress. Still, it was a relief to be back in London.

Blog Summary: I went to Rome for eight hours and Barcelona for four days. I didn't really talk about the things I mentioned in my title.

[[ps: As a travelling-on-a-budget tip, buy some ingredients for sandwiches and some drinks at the beginning of the trip if you have a fridge available. Make sandwiches to take with you each day for lunch and eat them when you come across a good lunch spot and time in the day. We ate lunch in two parks and on a bench outside a beautiful cathedral, and it worked out great. We spent our money on some nice dinners instead. Although we tried to eat as cheap as possible, there is no such thing as “cheap” in Barcelona. Anyway, just thought I’d let you know.]]

here's a bad photo of a graffitied train in Rome (all other pictures are on facebook, go look for em if you care to):

Fall break part 1: Transport failures and offending the mafia

Bucknell so kindly gave those of us here in London a nice week-long fall break, which, combined with our normal four day weekends, gave us ten days off to do whatever our hearts desired. My heart was desiring some Italy and Spain, and so that's where I went. In the end, our plan was as follows: Dana, Laina, Alex and Juli go to Sicily, where Dana has family and where Juli's family is from. After four days, Alex and Juli fly back to London, and Dana and Laina fly to Barcelona for five days, with an extended (8 hour) layover in Rome.

These are our stories. (cue Law and Order music) Sorry for the long length and messiness of my writing- I wrote most of this in pieces on my ipod. I included three summary just so you don't have to feel obligated to read the whole thing. An episode of Jersey Shore (or even better, Geordie Shore, the UK equivalent) could probably suffice as well. If you're into that sort of show (and don't try to deny it now).

Our first adventure was getting to Sicily. This involved leaving our flats at 3 am (after an all day field trip that got us back to our flats at midnight), four buses, a cab, a plane, a train and a car ride for us to finally reach our bed and breakfast at 7pm. We cut it a little close at times, but generally everything went well. Well, almost. Apparently there were huge train strikes the first day in Sicily, and it was enough of a mess to confuse and annoy fluent Italian speakers. Please note that although we all knew some Spanish, I knew some French, and one girl had lived in Florence for a semester, none of us knew a useful amount of Italian. Although some of the Sicilians seemed to be making fun of us, others were helpful and nice and we somehow managed all the delays, switching of trains, and extremely crowded train cars ad got to our bed and breakfast. By the time we left Italy, almost all of us had been able to have entire interactions in Spanish with the locals, but the first day was not one of those times. We did, however, learn to count and ask for the bathroom in Italian while sitting in the station. Bellisimo.

Sicily itself was very beautiful. Our first stop was Taormina, where we saw the remains of a huge Greek theatre, did some shopping, and saw some of Dana's extended family. We also found a bus stop but no bus for a castle and found a beautiful island to visit but not a way to get down to it. We also got a little lost trying to find our way back to our bed and breakfast after getting off our train, and somehow these little Sicilian towns completely transform between the day and night- beautiful in sunlight, seedy under streetlights. Thankfully, we survived, and as far as I know escaped the mafia.

Next we took a bus over to Palermo, which someone described as an Italian Newark. In Palermo, I could understand how the mafia started in Sicily. When you looked down the streets, you could see the beautiful mountains in the distance, but the streets themselves were dirty and a little scary. Our street in particular was a strange strip of vendors, small restaurants, bars, and clubs. It was populated by an assortment of interesting people and stray cats. At first, our street appeared to be a hang out for a bunch of Italian teenagers, which was uncomfortable, especially the third time we had to walk by them when we were looking for our hostel. All of these Sicilians made me feel a little better about Jersey Shore though, because I could at least rest assured that those New Yorkers didn't completely make up the "tool" look.

We saw the three main sights in Palermo the first day- a cathedral, a large fountain, and some sculpted facades. We decided to eat pasta that night, which was no easy task. First, nearly everything is closed from 4-8pm (siesta!), and most people don't eat until almost 9. In addition, most food places that were open around 7pm were bars, weird little stands or fancy restaurants. We finally found some yummy penne at a place curiously named New York City cafe. After a failed search for gelato, we checked out the places along our street and headed back to our hostel, where we could hear karaoke until 2am. Thankfully, I have learned from my light-sleeping mother and brought along some ear plugs.

The next day we visited Agrigento with an Australian girl we met in our hostel. She was on a four month trip around Europe, and was at the moment traveling alone after her friend had gone home and her guided tour had ended. Both she and us were relieved to find more English speakers and learn that we weren't the only ones in Italy who did not speak Italian. The Greek ruins, the highlight of Agrigento, were beautiful, and after our day there we had some spaghetti and some tasty Italian deserts, including gelato. It was a nice end to the first leg of our trip. Then, it was back to the hostel for some packing and 3 hours of sleep before our next flight.

Food summary:

I ate pizza, a calzone, paninis, granite (not the rock, the icy fruit drink), good coffee, penne, gelato, and spaghetti. Pretty awesome.

Trip summary:

At times, the (occasional) rude people, crappy trains and language barrier made me miss London. The food and views made me not want to go back.

Blog summary:

I went to Sicily.

Update!

Here’s a super quick not super long update on my life:

I am sick. I have a cold. I am taking medicine, and hoping to get better soon.

I have a lot of papers etc. due next week. Two papers, and in class essay, an art assignment and a few readings, to be exact. Not cool.

I am going to Sicily, Rome and Barcelona for my 10-day fall break, which starts next Friday. Very cool. My flight leaves at 6:10 in the morning, which means I’ll have to get up at about 3 am, which is awesome.

I found blackberry jelly. It is my favorite jelly. This is significant because I have not found or heard of grape jelly anywhere, and I have not found a single other jam I like until the blackberry. They seriously seem to have every flavor but grape- orange, strawberry, plum, black currant, raspberry, everything. It’s so weird.

I have attended a Hillsong Church, which is kind of one of those things I’d never thought I’d have the chance to do. Because, they’re like famous and everything. Relatively famous. (In a good way.) Last week they put on four showings of “Jesus: the Rock Opera”, which included a bunch of popular songs with appropriately adjusted lyrics, including “Forget You” by Cee-lo Green. Yo, it was super crazy.

I have now visited Greenwich and Bath. Bath was pretty but fun, and some relaxing strolls and ridiculous adventures were had. There are some good stories to tell, but now is not the place.

I have already pulled two near-all-nighters, which is totally absurd. I walked back from our study center (a 5-10 minute walk away) at 4 am the one night- not recommended. Cars fly by and random people just hang out talking or going about their maintenance jobs. It’s strange. I was actually more afraid of getting hit by a car than anything else. At least I knew how to get home- trying to walk back to your flat when is it late, you are lost, and your companions are tipsy is a whole lot harder.

I lost my light blue scarf. In case you were wondering.

I’ve seen a whole bunch of London theatre with my theatre class, and it’s awesome.

The students in my program have bonded over complaining about, stressing over, and often hating our classes/work load/our professors’ lack of organization. In case you are one of those professors, just kidding.

Six of us sang the Star-Spangled Banner the other night. At 3 am. In harmony. It was excellent and horrible at the same time. One of the six was actually recruited to join by the others just before 3, since they thought he’d be up and it was determined we needed a male voice. He reluctantly agreed; I’m not sure why. After three times, we finally got a decent recording.

I updated my blog. In fact, I wrote two blog posts instead of doing my homework just now. Sweet.

No dice.

Today we had another mouse. That makes six mice caught in our apartment in around six weeks. Super. I'm so done.

The mice days are in fact not over.

3 seconds: Another mouse.

Planet of the Mice

I’ve been saving up to do this post for a while now, but I think it’s finally safe. Brace yourselves- this is a long and frightening story. I do apologize for the length; skip down to the summary if need be.

Here goes.

A few weeks ago, around dinnertime, I happened to walk in the kitchen in time to see something run across the floor. I saw a tail, so unlike the last time it’d happened (a year ago in my own house), I knew I saw a mouse and was not hallucinating. I informed my roommates and it was decided that we would call our housing managers in the morning (it was a Sunday, and they are closed on Sunday). The next day, one of my roommates comes home by herself after class to hear a scratching noise. Through the crack of our kitchen door (seen immediately when you enter the front door), she sees that the source of the noise is a mouse stuck to a sticky trap. She had no idea there would be any traps, let alone any mice, and so she proceeds to freak out. Did I mention we’re a rather squeamish flat? This roommate, let’s call her Dana, runs upstairs to the other Bucknell flat in her distress. Did I mention that most of the upstairs flat is vegetarian, unlike our strictly omnivore flat? The single male Bucknellian, sensing her fearful paralysis, runs, in the rain, to the nearest food store and buys vegetable oil. Apparently that is the proper way to remove a mouse from a sticky trap. Did I mention that he is the most passionately vegetarian, and for ethical reasons? I walk in to the flat to see him getting oil all over our floor in his attempt to pour it on the trap, and Dana biting her nails in horrified suspense and worry. He closes the door to somehow finish the job, emerges a it later with a cereal box supposedly containing the mouse, and runs off to free it somewhere non-conspicuous. Note: there is no such thing as a non-conspicuous place to free a mouse in London. Dana and I exchange conspiracy theories while he is gone, which center around the mouse having gotten loose when the door was closed, and the mouse saver, we’ll call him David, did not tell us because he didn’t want us to do anything else to harm the furry creature of God. Anyway, Dana and I clean up the oily mess in our kitchen, and try to resume normal life. When we inform our third roommate, let’s name her Alex, she becomes rather upset. Did I mention she is the most squeamish? We think, wishfully, that perhaps this was the mouse I had seen earlier and also the only mouse in our apartment.

Nope.

A few days (maybe 2) later, we find another mouse stuck to a trap. Dana finds it in the morning when she wakes up and believes it is dead. I like to double-check these things, and before getting my breakfast (because looking at dead mice is so good for the appetite) I take a gander. It’s wriggling, and for simplicity’s sake I eliminate the possibility that it is a zombie mouse and inform Dana that is still alive. At this point we need to leave for class, so we resolve to handle the matter afterwards. When we come back, we wait for David to wake up, and then politely ask him to handle our mousy friend. I watch his method this time, you know, just in case it happens again. He takes the mouse out in another cereal box, and we clean up the oil on the floor. After cleaning, I notice we have a plastic bucket under the sink, which, if the trap and mouse were placed inside, there would be no mess to clean up on the floor afterwards. I hoped there wouldn’t be any other mice and that, as luck would have it, we would find this fantastic mouse catching tool after all the mice were caught.

Wrong.

Just a few hours later, there is a third mouse. This time, I man up and take care of it myself, using the bucket. My roommates are distressed, but I’m already in action mode. I got a good method going, and feel like I’m practically a mouse-freeing expert. I take the bucket to the little private garden at the end of our block and free the mouse, hoping people think I am merely carrying cleaning supplies. After our third mice in just 3 days, we call the housing management again. The next day, they come and fill the mouse hole in our kitchen with steel wool and grout, which apparently prevents them from chewing their way back in. They are very thorough, and inspect each room of the house for any other possible entrances. Fantastic. It seemed like our mice troubles may finally have been over.

Not so.

For a few days, all is well. Then, one night when Dana and I had just come back from a night out, and were in no mood, we find another mouse. Crap. We had decided to leave the traps out for about a week, just in case, but we didn’t expect any problems and have no idea how the mouse got there. But whatever, by now we’re pros. We got on it, since it seemed like a good idea to get rid of it before squeamish Alex returned. I get to work with my bucket and oil, feeling that I’ve perfected my method. I leave Dana in charge of watching the freed mouse in the bucket while I quickly put on some trousers [àremembered this time] and proper shoes, because I was not going to freeze my bum off in a dress and blister my feet in my nice shoes any longer. The last time I used the bucket, I was convinced that the mouse could get out, with the walls being fairly high and him being covered in slippery oil, and so I didn’t expect any problems there.

False.

In the 30 seconds Dana stopped hovering over the bucket to talk to me as I re-entered the kitchen, the mouse disappeared. We were both in shock when we found the bucket empty and the mouse having escaped before our very eyes. We traced his tracks, though, to find out where he got in, and decided to call the housing management AGAIN to let them know a mouse had broken through the patch. Since it is a Friday night, we have to wait the whole weekend to call. There’s nothing else we can do, so we clean up, set up strategic traps, and call it a night. I go back into the kitchen a little later to find one of the traps moved and paw prints on one side of it. I hope that this was just the mouse going back into the hole, or something that doesn’t require my immediate attention. I give up on the situation, close the kitchen door tightly, and figure we should be fine until the morning.

No.

Dana and I relax in our respective beds, doing whatever on our laptops. Eventually I am exhausted, and decide it is time to sleep. I go to set down my laptop… and there, a mere few six inches from my bed, is a dead, oil-covered mouse.

WTFNSAJASJ@MD#K$M!!! That is how I felt at that moment. Mind you, we had kept the kitchen door closed after the mouse had gotten free, and only had it open 2-3 times after that when we had to enter the kitchen. Even then, we were standing in the doorway and scouting for mice. Also keep in mind that if it had died a few seconds or inches later, it would have been under my bed and we would have never found it. Now it is my turn to completely freak out. I alert Dana and we exchange unanswerable questions in shocked and horrified voices. For example, HOW DID IT GET HERE?, HOW DID THIS HAPPEN?, WHAT JUST HAPPENED?, HOW DID IT GET OUT OF THE KITCHEN?, HOW COULD IT POSSIBLY HAVE DIED RIGHT NEXT TO MY BED?, WHAT IS GOING ON?, and the like. I am tired. The stress of already attempting to free a mouse twice in a week and almost dropping my laptop on a dead one is getting to me. After my laptop slips closer to the mouse, I start crying (just a little) and Dana has to take over and find some way to dispose of the rodent corpse. She eventually got it into a cardboard box we had around, and I help tape the box shut- just in case. We agree that we are definitely calling the housing company asap, and decide to avoid telling our roommate until the hole is taken care of, because we don’t need anyone else freaking out. After convincing ourselves that mice can’t climb on to our beds, we sleep. We desperately hope this is the last escapade before calling on Monday.

Not quite.

We tell our roommate in the morning that we found another mouse, but leave off everything that happened after the initial catch, implying that it was caught and released without a hitch. I think it was the next day that we found another mouse, and this time I made sure to get ready to carry the mouse outside before freeing it. I covered the bucket when I washed my hands and put my coat on, and while I carried it outside. I took it to some weird little parking lot with a patch of grass, and hoped to never find another mouse. This time, though, I was prepared for the worst.

Finally, on Tuesday, the pest control people came again and filled the hole thoroughly. We haven’t had any problems since (it’s been about 2 weeks), but we still have our traps out and are praying this is all over. It seems like we are finally in the clear.

But you never know.

Sorry this is so long, I just didn’t think a shortened version would do it justice. But, here goes:

30-second summary: We caught five dead mice in our flat. We freed and released all but one outdoors; the other one escaped in the kitchen and ended up dying right next to my bed. No big deal.

Weekend update

I’m breaking away from my usual nonsense this time and I’m just going to talk about my weekend. This may be a good time for you to get back to work.

This past weekend my two roommates went away to Munich from Thursday after our last class until Sunday morning. For purely academic reasons, of course. You know, just appreciating its culture, people and beverages. But that’s another story. The point is, I had the apartment to myself for the weekend. When you live in a triple, alone time is a precious and wonderful commodity, and being able to spend it somewhere other than the bathroom is pretty great.

Thursday was spent doing the usual routine- class at 8:30, clean up apartment for cleaners, skype mom, nap and write a blog for my university class. I was really, seriously tired from staying up late the night before and determined not to go anywhere that night. But, of course, my two friends from upstairs came to hang out in my small dark (I hadn’t figured out how to change the light bulb) living room before leaving (because they prefer it over their large bright one) and told my they were going to see Rochelle, a friend from Bucknell who is in another program. After they promised not to stay out late, I joined them. Ironically, this was the only night I went anywhere.

Friday I did work. Or tried to. I didn’t really get anything done. I did go to the food store six times or so, and managed to make myself a real dinner- like, with a recipe and ingredients and everything. I had the hardest time finding eggs, flour and a salt shaker, of all things. I ended up finding the eggs on the bread aisle, naturally, and had to buy a large pourable container of salt. I’m not even going to comment. Even after finding my ingredients, I still faced a serious dilemma- pounding chicken without a meat hammer thing or a rolling pin. I put a bag of flour in a casserole dish and tried that. It didn’t really work. Whatever.

Saturday I went to see the Great Gorilla Run. People raise money to help protect gorillas, and then complete a race wearing a gorilla suit. I woke up late, found out too late that the train I needed was closed, etc etc, and I thought I had missed it. Fortunately, I hung around long enough to find out I was there just before the runners started coming. I traced their path back from London bridge to the Tower bridge (the famous one), which I hadn’t been to. On the way back, I got to see the outside of the Tower of London, which was still pretty cool. I really like how any outing in London can turn into a historical, sightseeing adventure. That might be my favorite thing about this city. Once I got home, I did homework for the rest of the weekend. The end.

30 seconds or less: I saw Rochelle, found eggs, cooked dinner, watched gorillas run, went sight-seeing, changed a light bulb. Thrilling stuff.

Say what?

The English talk funny. I know I already touched upon some British slang, and the accent itself is obviously different, but I’ve been surprised at how many things they pronounce significantly differently from Americans. I’ve also learned the origins of many American sayings that don’t make sense. For example, (and please excuse my pathetic pronunciation guides; I am no linguist) it is the English that pronounce tomato as toh-mah-toh, like in that saying, “You say tuh-may-toh, I say toh-mah-toh”. I used to always wonder who the heck actually pronounces tomato that way, since I had never heard someone say it like that and couldn’t imagine someone thinking that was the right way to say it. Now I know who says it. It does make sense a little bit if you try to say tomato with a British accent- saying it the weird way is actually easier and sounds more British. I think pecan (peh-con, rather than pee-can) and idear (you know, when people add an r sound to the end of idea) also originate from British English, for the same say-it-in-a-British-accent deal. Of course, I know Americans that say it this way. They, however, are wrong. According to me, at least.

These things did not throw me for any significant loops; I just found them interesting and a bit enlightening. Place names, on the other hand, throw me off all the time. I’ve come to think that the reason why Greenwich (not green-wich, but gren-ich) Village in New York is pronounced as it is and not phonetically like other American words is because it’s named after the British original, and thus keeps the British pronunciation. Maybe it’s just me, and my stubborn refusal to believe that dropping that w is a logical thing to do. Still, I am fairly confident that no non-accent-wielding, God-fearing English speaker would pronounce “Leicester” and “Gloucester” as les-ter and glous-ter, “Chiswick” and “Southwark” as chis-sik and suth-urk, or “Hertfordshire” as haht-ferd-shur. I know at least one of my roommates and I have been afraid to pronounce place names for fear of forgetting to drop half its letters. In addition, that station-announcer woman on the tube has baffled me a few times, requiring me to closely examine a map in order to figure out possible stops and do a multiple-choice of what she may have said. Anyway, now that I have offended everyone that has ever spoken to me, I’m going to go back to drinking my wudder (water).

30 second summary: See first sentence.

Here’s proof that I’m not lying about the slang from earlier:

So this one time, I had a blog...

I’ve kind of failed with this whole keeping-up-with-my-blog thing. To be fair, I have had a ton of readings and field trips to do for my classes, and my summer brain automatically switches to sleep or procrastinate mode when all alternative activities are more boring than sleeping. In addition, I’ve had to convince my roommates that I am actually social and enjoy doing things, so I have lost a great deal of time I normally spent pondering the meaning of life, psychoanalyzing my breakfast choices, and letting people know what I’ve been up to. Once my roommates are thoroughly convinced I’m normal, I’ll return to my misanthropic, hermitic ways and have more time to blog! Anyway, I apologize for the delays. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. I have made it quite clear that I was unqualified for this role as blogger.

My mom tells me my blog posts are getting too long so I’m going to try to keep things simple. I hope to make a bunch of short blog posts and put them up over the course of a couple of days, so look out for more to come. Or don’t, which ever. This is coming from me, so you may not want to get your hopes up.

Since I’m sure your attention will soon wane (along with mine), I’ll start with the note-worthy things (read: tourist attractions) I’ve visited recently. I saw Stonehenge, which was pretty neat, but very touristy. I mean, the stones were cool, but the gift shop, café, audio guide station and ticket booth were rather disappointing (along with outrageous admission prices- seriously, Stonehenge lasted for 5000 years without any help; I honestly don’t think those giant rocks need much maintenance).

I also saw Buckingham Palace, which I believe is how the Queen affords all those hats. It's amazing how many people come to spend all their money looking at a bunch of old furniture and a wedding dress, hot off the bride (just about). And, of course, everyone had an audio tour: a pair of silly headphones playing random facts along with long musical introductions to every room. Truly enlightening. Anyway, I went with a few girls from my program and Caitlin, a friend from home who is also studying abroad in London. It was really cool to see her, but it is a little weird being with someone from home at the same time you are with college friends, since you share completely different commonalities and acquaintances with each. But it was still fun to see her and hang out with someone you share such a long history with. Cait and I had dinner at a nice pub we found, and then the group of us visited a pub over by her, which was also a nice place. Overall, it was fun but chill day. The best.

So yeah, that’s it for now.

30 second summary: I went to Stonehenge and Buckingham Palace. I will try to be a better blogger, though I may not meet my mom’s high standards. This whole post is pretty dumb.

How to be a Londoner, Part I

The moment we've all been waiting for has finally come: I've done something interesting.

If you’ve heeded my advice (/fears of blogs) and looked at pictures of baby panda pictures instead of reading my posts, you may want to pause your ogling and read (some of) this post. I’m not saying this post will be more exciting than pandas, but it’s getting closer. You can also just skip to the bottom or look at the pictures; that's alright too.

First- I went to Borough Market, a large food market undr the London Bridge. According to Wikipedia, it was "first recorded in 1014", so it's been around a while. They have just about everything: teas, spices, breads, cookies, cereals, sauces, olives, fruits and veggies, freshly prepared food, and meats and seafood- even ostrich steaks and eggs. One of my roommates bought some pesto and some veggies to cook up, and I got some bread. Later, with a few extra ingredients, we (ok, mostly Dana) made a delicious dinner that fed 3 of us for 2 nights. Hooray for being adult-like and having an Italian roommate! After the market, we took a walk through London, saw the replica of Shakespeare’s Globe, and walked over the Millenium Bridge (I think), the one that collapses in Harry Potter. Hooray for culture! Since we happened to go with one of our professors, whose expertise is in medieval art and architecture, we had a guide to point out architectural highlights in London’s skyline and give us a quick run down on an old church we visited. Hooray for knowledge!

Second- Over the course of 3 days, I have officially gone to a London pub, eaten fish and chips, tasted British aleand taken photos in a phone booth. These were all of crucial importance on my to-do list. All I have left to do is take a double-decker bus tour, eat a British pie and watch the changing of the guards and I am an official, 100% London tourist. Yes.

Here’s some proof:

Third- I am starting to learn British slang. I found a website (http://www.effingpot.com/slang.shtml if you're interested) with a ton of British slang, and I’ve been going through it a bit at a time to try to learn. The other daymy roommates and I accidentally watched a show that highlighted the top ten moments in this comedy tv series called “The In-Betweeners”. A few of the slang words I had just read actually came up, which was cool because I was slightly less confused and I got to practice my new vocab a little. Most of the time, the worst language differences to deal with are (Am) bathroom= (GB) toilet, exit= way out, pants= trousers and underwear= pants. The whole pants thing is what I’m most worried about. I’m afraid I’ll accidentally mention, in casual conversation, that I never wear pants with a skirt, as it’s simply not my taste. However, I would appreciate knowing if I am being insulted by a Brit or if someone ia simply talking about what he or she would like for dinner. Some things are seriously weird and a little off-putting, like how they call meatballs “faggots”. Seriously, what? Others are less weird, or just a matter of commonly using a word to mean one thing when we normally use it to mean something else in the States, although both meanings could be understood. For example (last one for now): UK: Thanks for poppin’ in! US: Yo, this lip gloss be poppin’!

Fourth: I also went to the Spitalfields Market, aka hipster/etsy paradise. There were tons and tons of old “vintage” clothes, most of which seemed to be legit (I’m assuming) because they were labeled with dates from the 1940s-50s. Lots of places sold antiques, including some magazines from the 40s, 30s, and even earlier. They also sold buttons and watch faces and watches without faces and paper fans and scrabble-piece necklaces and beads and huge 3D charms in the shape of bird-in-birdcages, anchors, etc, etc, etc. And it was all expensive. So hip.

Fifth: Lastly (for now), I went to the annual Nottingham Carnival. It’s a big celebration of Caribbean culture on the Sunday and Monday of each Bank Holiday (similar to Labor Day in the US). I heard that it would be really crowded and crazy, but I didn’t think it was all that bad. I heard there were about 20,000 people there, but spread over 4-5 huge city blocks, it was nothing too terrible. Honestly, I thought the crowd to pet the black bear at Bucknell last spring was a bit tougher to deal with. The carnival itself was a lot of fun. They had tons of food vendors (I had some jerk chicken- it was delicious!) and a huge parade of people dancing (well, we got there towards the end so most were more like mopers) in giant, fantastic costumes, complete with tons of big, brightly colored feathers and sequins. There was also a giant peacock puppet thing, which was very cool. There was litter everywhere, and people just doing their thing, like dancing (3 random guys just danced on the street by this DJ for what seemed like 20 minutes), playing music, or handing out gospel/church postcards. There were tons and tons of police officers. Apparently they were taking some extra measures after this summer’s riots. Fortunately, we did not run into any problems- thank goodness. When we got off at the tube stop, I thought some incident must have just gone down because there were so many officers. Turns out they were only there as extra carnival security. We also concluded that our entire train got off at the same stop to go to the carnival. We were a little nervous seeing so many outside the station on the street, staggered in formation. But we soon found out they were actually a pretty chill bunch (a good amount of them, anyway) and took pictures with one constable who let us (and a whole line of people) wear his hat. Another constable up on a platform actually posed for someone below who wanted a picture, and even one at the parade fence smiled a bit at some of the performers’ antics (I think one tried to dance with him). The train ride home was very crowded, like I-really-really-hope-I-remembered-deodorant-this-morning crowded. But the London Underground is great, and it didn’t take long. Overall, it was really fun and a great experience. I’m glad the four of us decided to go. It was nice to see another side of London, its people and its varied culture. The performers (and vendors) were just a bunch of ordinary people doing what they love and celebrating their unique culture, even if that involves a sequin bikini and feather headdress or a whole lot of tasty chicken.

30 second summary: I did things. It was fun. See bold print. (And I did remember deodorant, in case you were wondering.)