- Couscous or tajine?
- Lamb or chicken or fish?
- Red or white wine?
- Walk or sit?
- Sit on a terrace or in a courtyard?
- Mint tea or absinthe?
- Green olives or black olives? Or red olives? Or pink olives? And for that matter, is it possible to overdose on olives? Because I've tried. 35 in one sitting.
- Sit by the fire in the main room or in our room?
Saturday, December 26, 2009
So many decisions to make
Oooh the water...
The night before we left Agadir, I had this dream. I was going towards my backpack, getting ready to leave, and a black cat stepped in my way. I woke up and thought, "Shit that might be a bad omen for our trip tomorrow." The next day we got on our bus to Essaouira. It started out fine, but soon we got into the mountains, twisting and turning, bumping up and down. I closed my eyes, sang folk songs to myself, and tried to tune out the puking lady in the next aisle. After three hours, we made it to Essaouira and the ride was totally worth it. This town is amazing. It's so laid back, no hassling or heckling... Just a really nice beach town. Unfortunately, there was a MASSIVE storm that shut down the whole city, so the sea is now the color of the Essequibo River in Guyana. Some chocolate river references were made. But today has been sunny sunny sunny.
The first night in Essaouira, as a reward for the miserable bus ride, Jeff and I got to visit the hammams. Holy. Crap.
So this lady came to pick me up from the riad and she could only speak three words in French - and hey, so can I - and she took me to my first ever hammam. I got inside and was instructed to take off all my clothes, except my... um... knickers. I'm not exactly an exhibitionist, so that was a big step for me. I didn't take off my bra at first, but then my lady snapped my brastrap, which I took to mean, "silly white girl." Then we walked into the bath part and I saw all of these practically naked women, laughing, smiling, playing in the water, and I felt instantly comfortable. We went into a corner and she dumped a bucket of boiling hot water all over me and started scrubbing with - I want to call it a loufa, but it was way rougher. It was like a cloth version of a pummel stone - isn't that what the foot scruber thing is called? Holy hell that hurt. She scrubbed LITERALLY every inch of my body with that. At one point, everyone left, including my lady, and I was left in a whole hammam by myself. So obviously I treated it like a giant slip n' slide and imagined I was Tom Cruise in Risky Business dancing to Bob Seger. Then my lady came back in (thankfully I had stopped dancing just in time) and the bathing continued. She scrubbed me from head to toe with Argon oil, which is huge here and smells like a bunch of spices mixed together. For some reason, I never felt uncomfortable. It was such a friendly, feminine environment. And even when she made me lie face down on a bench and I wondered how many women had sat right where my face was, I thought, "who the hell cares?" Probably thousands of women sat there and thousands more will sit there and I got to be one of them, which is pretty amazing I think. How many people get to say they've done something like that? How many people have felt like they have no more skin left to scrub, but then realize they've probably never been so clean? How many people have been asked to dance like a seagull whilst completely naked and have done it? I don't know. What I do know is that I'm loving Morocco.
The last few days, during the worst of the storm, we've been staying in this B&B far away from town that has been so wonderful. It's run by these nice French women and the food is so insane. It's like one giant family with all the people here -- two French families, one German family, an English family, an English couple, and a cranky old English dude. Sadly, we leave tomorrow and the next day we'll make our way to Marrakesh for the last day of our trip.
This place is crazy.
Friday, December 18, 2009
Sensory overload in Marrakesh
We arrived in Marrakesh Tuesday night and took a taxi which dropped us off outside the old part of the Medina. We then had to walk about ten minutes to get to our Riad. Not gonna lie, I was a bit scared seeing as we basically were walking through a different world and a different time. Our eight year old escorts pointed out the local mosque and hammam on the way. Our Riad was amazing and the owner was so nice and got us another escort to take us to dinner.
The next day we walked to the market in the center square. All the shopkeepers would hassle us and say things like,"hello my friend! Bonjour! Hola!" which was fun at first but got a bit old. We drank fresh OJ and ate couscous and tajine at a restraunt with a terrace overlooking the insane scene below. That night we ate dinner at the food stands in the center. The waiters there can hassle in English, French, Spanish, German, and Berber... I was very impressed. Then we went on another terrace and drank more OJ and watched the night scene. The theme of the day was, "Oh life is tough."
The following day we checked out the Jewish part of town, which was... Depressing. To say the least. We got so lost, and it doesn't help that the locals think it's hilarious to mislead tourists either by pointing you in the wrong direction or by saying, "road is closed!" when it is clearly not.
Then we did dinner at the market again, but at a different stand. Wanted a drink, (not easy to find) and wound up at the fanciest hotel I've ever seen with the worst piano man I've ever heard. I thought of you, Bethy, he played "Once, Twice, Three Times A Lady."
This morning we packed up and decided to fly south. Well, bus south. That brings me to now. Chillin in the train station because it's way nicer than the bus station, just waiting for our bus. Jeff taught me how to play bridge and is letting me use his iPhone.
New discovery: too many to list. Let's just say that after two tours through spice shops I now can identify many different spices by their appearance and smell.
Frequently used phrases:
"No merci, no thank you, no gracias."
"Can we get a drink in this town?"
"I don't know, let's find out!"
"I'm Canadian."
"I'm English."
"We're from California."
"More tea, please."
Peace out, Marrakesh. Hello, Agadir.
The next day we walked to the market in the center square. All the shopkeepers would hassle us and say things like,"hello my friend! Bonjour! Hola!" which was fun at first but got a bit old. We drank fresh OJ and ate couscous and tajine at a restraunt with a terrace overlooking the insane scene below. That night we ate dinner at the food stands in the center. The waiters there can hassle in English, French, Spanish, German, and Berber... I was very impressed. Then we went on another terrace and drank more OJ and watched the night scene. The theme of the day was, "Oh life is tough."
The following day we checked out the Jewish part of town, which was... Depressing. To say the least. We got so lost, and it doesn't help that the locals think it's hilarious to mislead tourists either by pointing you in the wrong direction or by saying, "road is closed!" when it is clearly not.
Then we did dinner at the market again, but at a different stand. Wanted a drink, (not easy to find) and wound up at the fanciest hotel I've ever seen with the worst piano man I've ever heard. I thought of you, Bethy, he played "Once, Twice, Three Times A Lady."
This morning we packed up and decided to fly south. Well, bus south. That brings me to now. Chillin in the train station because it's way nicer than the bus station, just waiting for our bus. Jeff taught me how to play bridge and is letting me use his iPhone.
New discovery: too many to list. Let's just say that after two tours through spice shops I now can identify many different spices by their appearance and smell.
Frequently used phrases:
"No merci, no thank you, no gracias."
"Can we get a drink in this town?"
"I don't know, let's find out!"
"I'm Canadian."
"I'm English."
"We're from California."
"More tea, please."
Peace out, Marrakesh. Hello, Agadir.
Sunday, December 13, 2009
I'm all alone, there's no one here besiiiiiiide meeeee
All my problems, they are gone
There's no one to deriiiiiiide meeeeeee
All my freshies have gone back home and I am left in this sad dorm all by myself. I leave for London tomorrow and then Jeff and I leave for Morocco (YESSSSS) on Tuesday.
So, I'm doing some laundry, watching some Much Ado (oh Keanu Reeves, what made you think you could act?), drinking some tea, dunking some biscuits.
Last night I watched the first part of the X Factor finale, and I'm glad to say my favorite contestant, Olly, got through! So now it's between him and my flat mate's pick. Ultimate showdown.
All's Well was fantastic. I'm excited to get involved with more Shakespeare stuff next term, which I definitely will (Taming of the Shrew, anyone?) It was interesting how lots of parts we laughed at during rehearsal were met with silence during the performances. But the audience did laugh at really random parts --- like when Helena comes on stage preggo at the end of the play. People laughed both nights at that. BAHAHA she's been knocked up! It was a pretty big baby bump...
The other night at a club in Coventry, they played "All I Want for Christmas Is You" and proceeded to drop foam from the ceiling. It was nice, but (I'm going to regret saying this) I miss real snow -- But not when it accumulates and makes it impossible to walk, and then it rains and turns the top layer into ice so I slip and fall and give myself whiplash. Just when it's snowflakes and they fall on your pea coat and you can look at all the different shapes while you're waiting for your bus and trying to avoid talking to the crazy man who always happens to take the bus at the same time as you.
So... I think I should probably start packing for Morocco. Let's see... what should I bring? Flipflops, sunglasses, hat, shorts, raincoat, bathing suit, sunscreen -- Funny how I haven't touched any of these things since I came to England. In fact, they're all stuffed in the back of my wardrobe.
And what songs should I listen to whilst packing? I'm thinking "Under African Skies," "Roam Around the World," "On the Road to Find Out," "See the World," "She's Got Her Ticket,""Send Me on My Way," maybe a little "Like a Rolling Stone," and just for you, Bearz, how about some "Strangers Like Me." There's my playlist!
"Is it not strange that sheep's guts should hale souls out of men's bodies?"
There's no one to deriiiiiiide meeeeeee
All my freshies have gone back home and I am left in this sad dorm all by myself. I leave for London tomorrow and then Jeff and I leave for Morocco (YESSSSS) on Tuesday.
So, I'm doing some laundry, watching some Much Ado (oh Keanu Reeves, what made you think you could act?), drinking some tea, dunking some biscuits.
Last night I watched the first part of the X Factor finale, and I'm glad to say my favorite contestant, Olly, got through! So now it's between him and my flat mate's pick. Ultimate showdown.
All's Well was fantastic. I'm excited to get involved with more Shakespeare stuff next term, which I definitely will (Taming of the Shrew, anyone?) It was interesting how lots of parts we laughed at during rehearsal were met with silence during the performances. But the audience did laugh at really random parts --- like when Helena comes on stage preggo at the end of the play. People laughed both nights at that. BAHAHA she's been knocked up! It was a pretty big baby bump...
The other night at a club in Coventry, they played "All I Want for Christmas Is You" and proceeded to drop foam from the ceiling. It was nice, but (I'm going to regret saying this) I miss real snow -- But not when it accumulates and makes it impossible to walk, and then it rains and turns the top layer into ice so I slip and fall and give myself whiplash. Just when it's snowflakes and they fall on your pea coat and you can look at all the different shapes while you're waiting for your bus and trying to avoid talking to the crazy man who always happens to take the bus at the same time as you.
So... I think I should probably start packing for Morocco. Let's see... what should I bring? Flipflops, sunglasses, hat, shorts, raincoat, bathing suit, sunscreen -- Funny how I haven't touched any of these things since I came to England. In fact, they're all stuffed in the back of my wardrobe.
And what songs should I listen to whilst packing? I'm thinking "Under African Skies," "Roam Around the World," "On the Road to Find Out," "See the World," "She's Got Her Ticket,""Send Me on My Way," maybe a little "Like a Rolling Stone," and just for you, Bearz, how about some "Strangers Like Me." There's my playlist!
"Is it not strange that sheep's guts should hale souls out of men's bodies?"
Saturday, December 5, 2009
There's a lot of turkey in this turkey...
So, Thanksgiving came and I made my first Thanksgiving meal. I had help from my friend Dani (she's an English major from Wisconsin, too), and we did pretty well overall. There was no canned pumpkin in the store, so we had to make pumpkin pie out of real pumpkins. It ended up tasting like cinnamon egg pie. Not so good. However, the turkey went well, which was surprising seeing as our oven is prone to only cooking the top half of things. Dani made great mashed potatoes and we bought some pretty good stuffing mix, where you only had to add boiling water and stick it in the oven.
My English flatmates seemed to like the food. They kept saying, "I feel like I'm on Friends!" Two of them got stomach aches and passed out, which I consider to be an indication of a successful Thanksgiving meal. Too bad we couldn't play football afterward (American football).
Two of my flatmates were bickering at the time, which made everything feel a little more like Thanksgiving.
It's getting to the point in my study abroad experience where I stop thinking about the differences between English people and Americans (or Californians), and start thinking about how we're similar. Small town Americans are really not all that different from small town English people. There are English words I can't say because it sounds weird with my accent, and there are American words English people can't say because it sounds weird (some of these include "sweatpants," "dang," and "sidewalk"). They hate Sarah Palin, I hate Sarah Palin. Actually, they think she's kind of funny... and I see how she would be hilarious to people who didn't have to worry about her ruining their country.
All's Well That Ends Well is taking up my entire life.... I actually dream in Elizabethan English now. How sad.
New discovery: Lauren from the Catherine Tate Show. Youtube it.
Yummy Turkey
Yummy Dinner
Two of my flatmates were bickering at the time, which made everything feel a little more like Thanksgiving.
It's getting to the point in my study abroad experience where I stop thinking about the differences between English people and Americans (or Californians), and start thinking about how we're similar. Small town Americans are really not all that different from small town English people. There are English words I can't say because it sounds weird with my accent, and there are American words English people can't say because it sounds weird (some of these include "sweatpants," "dang," and "sidewalk"). They hate Sarah Palin, I hate Sarah Palin. Actually, they think she's kind of funny... and I see how she would be hilarious to people who didn't have to worry about her ruining their country.
All's Well That Ends Well is taking up my entire life.... I actually dream in Elizabethan English now. How sad.
New discovery: Lauren from the Catherine Tate Show. Youtube it.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Good Morning Good Morning
Stumble into kitchen.
Fill the electric kettle and press the button.
While waiting for water to boil, put two tablespoons of coffee grounds into french press, and place piece of toast in toaster.
Once water is done boiling, pour two cups into measuring cup, then pour into french press and stir with spoon.
Turn toaster on to one and a half minutes, wash spoon with water.
Get yogurt from fridge and stir muesli into it with spoon. Then lick spoon clean.
When toast pops up, take it out and spread jam onto it with spoon.
By this time, coffee will be done brewing.
While pressing down on french press, lick yogurt/jam spoon clean.
Pour coffee into cup.
Pour milk into cup, then splenda. Mix with spoon.
Skillfully bring full coffee mug to table without spilling a drop.
Then bring yogurt with muesli, toast with jam, and vitamins to the table.
Enjoy while watching the last half of Friends on channel 28 and then BBC news on channel 80.
It's an art form.
p.s. Does anyone have any tips for getting the smell of garlic off your hands?
Fill the electric kettle and press the button.
While waiting for water to boil, put two tablespoons of coffee grounds into french press, and place piece of toast in toaster.
Once water is done boiling, pour two cups into measuring cup, then pour into french press and stir with spoon.
Turn toaster on to one and a half minutes, wash spoon with water.
Get yogurt from fridge and stir muesli into it with spoon. Then lick spoon clean.
When toast pops up, take it out and spread jam onto it with spoon.
By this time, coffee will be done brewing.
While pressing down on french press, lick yogurt/jam spoon clean.
Pour coffee into cup.
Pour milk into cup, then splenda. Mix with spoon.
Skillfully bring full coffee mug to table without spilling a drop.
Then bring yogurt with muesli, toast with jam, and vitamins to the table.
Enjoy while watching the last half of Friends on channel 28 and then BBC news on channel 80.
It's an art form.
p.s. Does anyone have any tips for getting the smell of garlic off your hands?
Monday, November 16, 2009
"Elle ne parle pas du français"
Most of my time in Paris was spent watching people talk, trying to understand through body language. I would just stand there while Karina and her friends conversed with cool-looking French people, then the French person would motion to me and say something -- probably along the lines of "what's up with your mute friend?" -- and Karina would say, ""Elle ne parle pas du français." I heard that phrase in my sleep. All the French university students I met were incredibly sweet (nice French people?!) and tried to speak to me in English. And I kept thinking of that line from Henry V -- "Come, your answer in broken music; for thy voice is music and thy English broken."
My favorite conversation from my Paris trip, with Shakespeare-style French accent:
French student: Vere are yoo from?
Me: I'm from California.
French student: Ooh lala! (They said that a lot) Yoo go to school in California?
Me: (Thinking just say "yes") Uhhhhh no. I go to school somewhere else.
French student: Vere?
Me: Um... in Wisconsin?
French student: OH VISCONSIN! That ees vere I go at end of zeh world!
It turns out that in the new apocalyptic movie 2012, they end up in Wisconsin. That was an interesting conversation in relation to my usual one.
But now I'm back in England, drinking tea, eating biscuits, learning about The Troubles, watching X Factor, still giggling when someone says "bloody hell."
Today, I made a sandwich with roasted eggplant, Camembert, and chutney, which was really yummy... but I miss French food. Eating on Mondays is a problem, I have a jam-packed schedule, complete with class from 11-12:30, then 2-5, then I have rehearsal from 6-9. Oh I don't think I posted this, but I am officially the dramaturg for the Shakespeare society's production of All's Well That Ends Well, which I'm so excited about. It's basically exactly what I wanted to do.... lots of research, reading far into the text, and then I get to go to a high school and lead a workshop. I like being appreciated for my nerding-out capabilities.
Pictures are up! Laurie and Mark took me to a market and to a really cute old village with pretty mountains around it. Seeing mountains after being in England for months was a strange sensation.
My favorite conversation from my Paris trip, with Shakespeare-style French accent:
French student: Vere are yoo from?
Me: I'm from California.
French student: Ooh lala! (They said that a lot) Yoo go to school in California?
Me: (Thinking just say "yes") Uhhhhh no. I go to school somewhere else.
French student: Vere?
Me: Um... in Wisconsin?
French student: OH VISCONSIN! That ees vere I go at end of zeh world!
It turns out that in the new apocalyptic movie 2012, they end up in Wisconsin. That was an interesting conversation in relation to my usual one.
But now I'm back in England, drinking tea, eating biscuits, learning about The Troubles, watching X Factor, still giggling when someone says "bloody hell."
Today, I made a sandwich with roasted eggplant, Camembert, and chutney, which was really yummy... but I miss French food. Eating on Mondays is a problem, I have a jam-packed schedule, complete with class from 11-12:30, then 2-5, then I have rehearsal from 6-9. Oh I don't think I posted this, but I am officially the dramaturg for the Shakespeare society's production of All's Well That Ends Well, which I'm so excited about. It's basically exactly what I wanted to do.... lots of research, reading far into the text, and then I get to go to a high school and lead a workshop. I like being appreciated for my nerding-out capabilities.
Pictures are up! Laurie and Mark took me to a market and to a really cute old village with pretty mountains around it. Seeing mountains after being in England for months was a strange sensation.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Oh yeah and there's the Eiffel Tower....
I left Paris yesterday and got to Lodeve later than expected.
Hannah's Tips for Missing Your Train Out of Paris:
1) Don't have any knowledge of the French language. I highly advise this. The less you know, the harder it is for you to understand the signs in Gare du Nord, which are only in French. Plus, there are pretty much zero cognates when it comes to transportation lingo.
2) Don't be on time. Also very important. It doesn't matter why you're late ... maybe because you slept in, you couldn't catch a cab, or in my case, you couldn't understand how to buy a metro ticket because the damn machine was only in French.
3) Go to the wrong train station. Gare du Nord and Gare Lyon should be interchangeable in your mind.
But I made it, and that's really all that matters right?
Paris was AH-mazing. I got there on Friday afternoon and Karina and I had a picnic in the park by the Eiffel Tower, which consisted of wine, baguette, three kinds of cheese, pate, flan and some blueberry tart thing. Other yummy eats included: hot chocolate with a croissant for dipping, mussels, chicken plate with fries at 5am, crepe with goat cheese, ham and mushroom at 1am, falafel from the Jewish quarter.... yeah. Life is good. We went to the Centre Pompidou for some culture and met up with some of her friends at night for some fun.
Now I'm in Lodeve with my cousins who are feeding me even MORE delicious food. I go back to Paris on Thursday afternoon and then I'll leave for England on Saturday.
New discovery: it's possible to be homesick for somewhere that you didn't even consider your home until you left it.
More thoughts, stories, pictures, etc. to come once I get back to the island....
Hannah's Tips for Missing Your Train Out of Paris:
1) Don't have any knowledge of the French language. I highly advise this. The less you know, the harder it is for you to understand the signs in Gare du Nord, which are only in French. Plus, there are pretty much zero cognates when it comes to transportation lingo.
2) Don't be on time. Also very important. It doesn't matter why you're late ... maybe because you slept in, you couldn't catch a cab, or in my case, you couldn't understand how to buy a metro ticket because the damn machine was only in French.
3) Go to the wrong train station. Gare du Nord and Gare Lyon should be interchangeable in your mind.
But I made it, and that's really all that matters right?
Paris was AH-mazing. I got there on Friday afternoon and Karina and I had a picnic in the park by the Eiffel Tower, which consisted of wine, baguette, three kinds of cheese, pate, flan and some blueberry tart thing. Other yummy eats included: hot chocolate with a croissant for dipping, mussels, chicken plate with fries at 5am, crepe with goat cheese, ham and mushroom at 1am, falafel from the Jewish quarter.... yeah. Life is good. We went to the Centre Pompidou for some culture and met up with some of her friends at night for some fun.
Now I'm in Lodeve with my cousins who are feeding me even MORE delicious food. I go back to Paris on Thursday afternoon and then I'll leave for England on Saturday.
New discovery: it's possible to be homesick for somewhere that you didn't even consider your home until you left it.
More thoughts, stories, pictures, etc. to come once I get back to the island....
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Oi vs. Oy
English people say:
"Oi, get over here!"
"Oi, what do you think you're doing?"
"Oi, step off the monument!"
"Oi, what's that supposed to mean?"
I say:
"Oy, my head hurts."
"Oy, that's heavy!"
"Oy, I have so much work to do."
"Oy, it's been a long day."
"Oi, get over here!"
"Oi, what do you think you're doing?"
"Oi, step off the monument!"
"Oi, what's that supposed to mean?"
I say:
"Oy, my head hurts."
"Oy, that's heavy!"
"Oy, I have so much work to do."
"Oy, it's been a long day."
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
The tea stains my mug and I can't scrub it off...
Here is the conversation I have with every single person I meet:
New Friend: Where in America are you from?
Me: Well, I'm from California, but I don't go--
New Friend: Really? I'm so jealous. You must hate the weather here.
Me: Actually, no... I really like it. I get burnt easily, so this whole lack of sun thing works out pretty well for me.
New Friend: Where in California are you from?
Me: I'm from Berkeley, but I don't go--
New Friend: Where's that? I've been to (insert city in California, usually LA, San Diego, or San Francisco)
Me: It's about forty-five minutes away from San Francisco.
New Friend: That's amazing. You must go there a lot. So, you're on the California exchange program?
Me: Uh... haha... no. I'm from California, but I go to university... um... somewhere else.
New Friend: Where?
Me: Um, in Wisconsin? It's in the middle and by Canada.
New Friend: Oh... why?
And here, depending on my mood, I either say something along the lines of "I wanted to see a different part of the country," or "I wanted to know what seasons are like," or just "because I'm crazy."
This weekend, I bought my train ticket to Paris. One of my favorite people, Karina, is studying there for the year, and during my reading week break in early November, I'm going to go stay in her little Parisian apartment. Then, during the week so as not to distract her from her studies, I am going to go to Lodeve to visit my cousins. I've never been to Paris, and here is what I am expecting:
Tomorrow night my entire Shakespeare class is going to Stratford-Upon-Avon to see Twelfth Night at the Courtyard Theatre. I see on my ticket that I will be sitting in row A of the gallery, meaning I can put my elbows up on the railing, which is my favorite thing to do in the theater... theatre.
My life here is Shakespeare-themed if you couldn't tell.
I don't really mind.
New discovery: watching X Factor is essential in English culture. Enjoying X Factor is not.
New Friend: Where in America are you from?
Me: Well, I'm from California, but I don't go--
New Friend: Really? I'm so jealous. You must hate the weather here.
Me: Actually, no... I really like it. I get burnt easily, so this whole lack of sun thing works out pretty well for me.
New Friend: Where in California are you from?
Me: I'm from Berkeley, but I don't go--
New Friend: Where's that? I've been to (insert city in California, usually LA, San Diego, or San Francisco)
Me: It's about forty-five minutes away from San Francisco.
New Friend: That's amazing. You must go there a lot. So, you're on the California exchange program?
Me: Uh... haha... no. I'm from California, but I go to university... um... somewhere else.
New Friend: Where?
Me: Um, in Wisconsin? It's in the middle and by Canada.
New Friend: Oh... why?
And here, depending on my mood, I either say something along the lines of "I wanted to see a different part of the country," or "I wanted to know what seasons are like," or just "because I'm crazy."
My Own Personal Teatime
This weekend, I bought my train ticket to Paris. One of my favorite people, Karina, is studying there for the year, and during my reading week break in early November, I'm going to go stay in her little Parisian apartment. Then, during the week so as not to distract her from her studies, I am going to go to Lodeve to visit my cousins. I've never been to Paris, and here is what I am expecting:
- Illegal can-can performances interrupted by the police, as seen in Can-Can
- Interpretive dancing in cafes like Audrey Hepburn in Funny Face
- Tall men in tailcoats and top hats and elegant women singing "The Night They Invented Champagne," as seen in Gigi
- All colors to be instantly saturated once I step off the train, as seen in Amelie
- Baguettes with pate
Tomorrow night my entire Shakespeare class is going to Stratford-Upon-Avon to see Twelfth Night at the Courtyard Theatre. I see on my ticket that I will be sitting in row A of the gallery, meaning I can put my elbows up on the railing, which is my favorite thing to do in the theater... theatre.
My life here is Shakespeare-themed if you couldn't tell.
I don't really mind.
New discovery: watching X Factor is essential in English culture. Enjoying X Factor is not.
Friday, October 16, 2009
"Hey English friends...... I have a question."
What happens when your biscuit falls into your tea?
What do you do with all your 1p and 2p coins?
Is there a difference between Scotland Yard and the normal police?
What do Lords and Earls do?
Why aren't people wearing rainboots?
Where is that accent from?
Does everyone dip their chips into creamcheese?
Who's that?
What's that?
Where's that?
Why do people laugh at me when I say that?
That last one is in reference to the fact that English people think it's really funny when I say, "Holy crap!" -- Apparently, it's a pretty American thing to say.
I'm thankful for my friends here who put up with my annoying questions, and I don't know why they haven't killed me yet.
I'm trying to integrate some British words into my vocabulary, but unfortunately a lot of them sound very awkward with an American accent (i.e. "cheers," "wanker," and any other word with an "r" in it). Some words I am unwilling and unable to switch, such as:
But I guess that's okay, because if I were to start using English words, I would lose my whole charming-American thing I have going for me.
My flatmate Bethan introduced me to Marmite yesterday, saying, "You either love it, or you hate it."
New discovery: I hate Marmite.
What do you do with all your 1p and 2p coins?
Is there a difference between Scotland Yard and the normal police?
What do Lords and Earls do?
Why aren't people wearing rainboots?
Where is that accent from?
Does everyone dip their chips into creamcheese?
Who's that?
What's that?
Where's that?
Why do people laugh at me when I say that?
That last one is in reference to the fact that English people think it's really funny when I say, "Holy crap!" -- Apparently, it's a pretty American thing to say.
I'm thankful for my friends here who put up with my annoying questions, and I don't know why they haven't killed me yet.
I'm trying to integrate some British words into my vocabulary, but unfortunately a lot of them sound very awkward with an American accent (i.e. "cheers," "wanker," and any other word with an "r" in it). Some words I am unwilling and unable to switch, such as:
- "Candy" for "sweets"
- "French fries" for "chips"
- "Chips" for "crisps"
- "Soda" for "drinks"
But I guess that's okay, because if I were to start using English words, I would lose my whole charming-American thing I have going for me.
My flatmate Bethan introduced me to Marmite yesterday, saying, "You either love it, or you hate it."
New discovery: I hate Marmite.
Sunday, October 11, 2009
Solid breakfasts and gloomy Sundays, smoky towns and winding roads, green fields and red pillar-boxes
Classes have officially begun, which means I am now officially procrastinating.
My "modules" are as follows:
The title of this blog is from a George Orwell essay, called "England Your England," which I am reading for... well, it can only be for one of those courses, can't it?
This last week brought some fun, some work, and some ego bruising. However, I have learned many valuable lessons, the most painful one being: do not show up to a lecture early and alone (or else you will sit alone while all the third-years file in with their huge groups of friends).
You know that Yael Naim song "New Soul?" The one from the Apple commercial? I keep singing it to myself... it's kind of appropriate:
I'm a new soul
I came to this strange world
Hoping I could learn a bit 'bout how to give and take.
But since I came here,
Felt the joy and the fear,
Finding myself making every possible mistake... lalalalalalala
New discovery: The British TV show Mock the Week is the best thing in the world.
My "modules" are as follows:
- Devolutionary British Fiction
- Shakespeare and Selected Dramatists of His Time
- Feminist Perspectives on Literature
- Romantic & Victorian Poetry
The title of this blog is from a George Orwell essay, called "England Your England," which I am reading for... well, it can only be for one of those courses, can't it?
This last week brought some fun, some work, and some ego bruising. However, I have learned many valuable lessons, the most painful one being: do not show up to a lecture early and alone (or else you will sit alone while all the third-years file in with their huge groups of friends).
You know that Yael Naim song "New Soul?" The one from the Apple commercial? I keep singing it to myself... it's kind of appropriate:
I'm a new soul
I came to this strange world
Hoping I could learn a bit 'bout how to give and take.
But since I came here,
Felt the joy and the fear,
Finding myself making every possible mistake... lalalalalalala
New discovery: The British TV show Mock the Week is the best thing in the world.
The sports and societies fairs were held this week and I'm pretty excited about the ones I joined. Warwick Mountains (where are the mountains?) is having a social tonight, which should be interesting.... And next week I will go to the English Lit society social, as well as the Cheese & Chocolate society fondue night.
I'm still learning, but I'm slowly getting adjusted to living here. Pretty soon I'll start eating pizza with a fork and knife.
Monday, October 5, 2009
And everyone young going down the long slide to happiness
It's 9:45 am. I do not want to be awake right now. Unfortunately, my body doesn't really care what I want after the way I treated it yesterday.
Hey Wisconsin, I thought you were the drinking capital of the world.... not Coventry, England.
This past weekend, all my other flatmates moved in... and they are wonderful. We're still waiting on one person, but so far we have four English people, one Romanian, one Bulgarian, and one Californian =)
Oh... the title to this blog is a line from a Philip Larkin poem called "High Windows".... he's from Coventry, which is great... maybe I've stood in some of the same places he's stood.
Today is the day for inductions. The English department is inducting me, and throwing a party tonight. English party? How does that work? Maybe some poetry recitations...
My room has been decorated. Still accumulating little things though. I've got a Hokusai poster (the famous wave one), two pretty French posters, a To Kill a Mockingbird poster (which keeps falling down), and my favorite is my Ministry of Silly Walks poster which makes me smile every time I look at it.
The accents are still amazing... and I giggle whenever they say "jumper."
Hey Wisconsin, I thought you were the drinking capital of the world.... not Coventry, England.
This past weekend, all my other flatmates moved in... and they are wonderful. We're still waiting on one person, but so far we have four English people, one Romanian, one Bulgarian, and one Californian =)
Oh... the title to this blog is a line from a Philip Larkin poem called "High Windows".... he's from Coventry, which is great... maybe I've stood in some of the same places he's stood.
Today is the day for inductions. The English department is inducting me, and throwing a party tonight. English party? How does that work? Maybe some poetry recitations...
My room has been decorated. Still accumulating little things though. I've got a Hokusai poster (the famous wave one), two pretty French posters, a To Kill a Mockingbird poster (which keeps falling down), and my favorite is my Ministry of Silly Walks poster which makes me smile every time I look at it.
The accents are still amazing... and I giggle whenever they say "jumper."
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Oh dear...
So, here I am.
I'm still getting settled in, and this room needs some serious decorating, but everything has gone pretty well. Only one of my suite-mates has moved in so far... her name is Anjlee, she's lived in England, Vienna, and Toronto, and she's very nice.
So, it turns out that you need an ID to buy scissors, knives, etc. in England, which is something I was not aware of. Here is the conversation I had at the checkout line when I was buying necessities, including scissors.
Checkout Lady: Y'alright?
Me: Yeah, you?
Checkout Lady: Yeah... holding scissors Do you have ID for these?
Me: Hahahahaha!
Checkout Lady: Do you have an ID?
Me: Hahaha.... what?
Checkout Lady: Do you have an ID to buy these scissors?
Me: What? Um... yes... I have... um...
Checkout Lady: Hahahaha it's okay, dear, it's hot in here.
Me: Uh, yeah... hahahaha (thinking she was just joking, but not really sure)
She checks everything through, except the scissors
Checkout Lady: So you have an ID?
Me: Yes?
Checkout Lady: May I see it?
Me: Oh... Do you need like a passport? Or is my...
Checkout Lady: Whatever.
This is my life here... lots of confusion and nervous laughter. Everything just takes a little longer than it should.
I'm still getting settled in, and this room needs some serious decorating, but everything has gone pretty well. Only one of my suite-mates has moved in so far... her name is Anjlee, she's lived in England, Vienna, and Toronto, and she's very nice.
So, it turns out that you need an ID to buy scissors, knives, etc. in England, which is something I was not aware of. Here is the conversation I had at the checkout line when I was buying necessities, including scissors.
Checkout Lady: Y'alright?
Me: Yeah, you?
Checkout Lady: Yeah... holding scissors Do you have ID for these?
Me: Hahahahaha!
Checkout Lady: Do you have an ID?
Me: Hahaha.... what?
Checkout Lady: Do you have an ID to buy these scissors?
Me: What? Um... yes... I have... um...
Checkout Lady: Hahahaha it's okay, dear, it's hot in here.
Me: Uh, yeah... hahahaha (thinking she was just joking, but not really sure)
She checks everything through, except the scissors
Checkout Lady: So you have an ID?
Me: Yes?
Checkout Lady: May I see it?
Me: Oh... Do you need like a passport? Or is my...
Checkout Lady: Whatever.
This is my life here... lots of confusion and nervous laughter. Everything just takes a little longer than it should.
This is where I live
Oh England, you're so adorable.
Sunday, September 27, 2009
I think there's a goose in the back of this hotel
Also, there are redheads EVERYWHERE and I'm halfway between loving it and being freaked out by it. England is obviously doing its part in the preservation of the ginger race... so many ginge babies.
I'm still in York... I leave tomorrow morning for Kenilworth.
New discovery: The little crackers that are served with tea are delicious, especially when dipped into the tea.
I heard someone yell, "Bloody hell!" today... Still not tired of the accents...
I'm still in York... I leave tomorrow morning for Kenilworth.
New discovery: The little crackers that are served with tea are delicious, especially when dipped into the tea.
I want a basket like this on my bike.
I heard someone yell, "Bloody hell!" today... Still not tired of the accents...
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Silver Train
I'm in York right now... in the hotel room... waiting for my father to pick up the laundry from the lady with one front tooth and a funny accent.
Here's a picture from Cambridge:
I was only there for half a day, but to be honest, that was good enough for me. King's College was nice to see, just because so many important people went to school there and probably stood in the same spots I stood in.
York is so wonderful...
Off to do more sightseeing!
Here's a picture from Cambridge:
York is so wonderful...
This picture was taken from the tower in York Minster... I climbed 275 steps to get up and the picture isn't even that great, but it was still worth it. There were three other people hiking up those stairs and we had some fun joking around with them about -- you know -- dying -- and it turned out that this one woman was from California! And she just got here and is studying business in some school around York.
Wandered into an empty church yesterday where there was a fake dead baby on the ground...?? That might have been the creepiest place I have ever been in. And I've been to some creepy places.
My favorite parts of the trip so far have been the train rides. I listen to music and watch all the greenery pass by. There are so many cute little red brick towns and sheep and horses and cows...
Sigur Ros is great train music...but I also listened to a lot of Paul Simon, Rogue Wave, and Brett Dennen...
I need to figure out how to put songs in my blog without relying on shitty youtube videos. Any ideas?
Some culture shock issues I'm working on:
- Walking
- Seriously, people, just choose a side! If you drive on the left, why don't you walk on the left? I mean, it's fine, I just do the awkward dance a little more frequently here than anywhere else, but it can be dangerous! I saw a bike accident the other day where the two cyclists did an awkward dance ON THEIR BIKES and then THEY CRASHED! It was so sad.
- Grass
- Please, England... let me walk on the grass. I know, you worked really hard making it look pretty, but grass is meant to be walked on and played on and sat on. I'm talking mostly to you, Cambridge.
Off to do more sightseeing!
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Goodbye, London
It was nice to see you again. You haven't changed much since January, and I guess I haven't either.
As You Like It is more fun when seen in The Globe.
War Horse puppets are more fun when seen in action. See how real they look?
New discovery: I don't have to take my Oyster card out of my wallet in order to scan it. Oh, laziness.... you will always prevail.
I'll miss you London. You smell better than other big cities. It might be all the perfume people wear.
Thanks for the delicious food! Indian, Chinese, and Belgian...mm mm mmmmmmmmm
Going on a train tomorrow.... oh how I love being on the ground.
Cambridge and York, here I come...
As You Like It is more fun when seen in The Globe.
War Horse puppets are more fun when seen in action. See how real they look?
New discovery: I don't have to take my Oyster card out of my wallet in order to scan it. Oh, laziness.... you will always prevail.
I'll miss you London. You smell better than other big cities. It might be all the perfume people wear.
Thanks for the delicious food! Indian, Chinese, and Belgian...mm mm mmmmmmmmm
Going on a train tomorrow.... oh how I love being on the ground.
Cambridge and York, here I come...
Monday, September 21, 2009
Swollen Feet and Jet-Lag in London Town
Well, today I went on an airplane. Actually, I think that might be considered yesterday.
My dad and I touched down at about 10am and began immigrating. After passing through everything smoothly, we took the tube to our hotel. We checked in and tried to keep ourselves up and busy by walking for hours in the streets of London. I decided that it would be a good idea to break in a new pair of boots on our walk (hence the title). New discovery: I really like the sound of my boots going 'clip-clop' on the pavement. Maybe I just like having my feet on the ground again after nine and a half hours of being in a metal tube 40,000 feet in the air.
I was feeling really good for a while and was thinking, "I'll go back tonight and write something in my first blog about how I am the master of jet-lag, a traveling champion, etc." At about 3 pm I started to feel like walking death. So, I walked it out like my middle school gym teacher would have wanted me to do, and I'm happy to say that it's about 7pm and I feel hungry and only a little bit drowsy.
Indian food for dinner.
It's all worth it now.
My dad and I touched down at about 10am and began immigrating. After passing through everything smoothly, we took the tube to our hotel. We checked in and tried to keep ourselves up and busy by walking for hours in the streets of London. I decided that it would be a good idea to break in a new pair of boots on our walk (hence the title). New discovery: I really like the sound of my boots going 'clip-clop' on the pavement. Maybe I just like having my feet on the ground again after nine and a half hours of being in a metal tube 40,000 feet in the air.
I was feeling really good for a while and was thinking, "I'll go back tonight and write something in my first blog about how I am the master of jet-lag, a traveling champion, etc." At about 3 pm I started to feel like walking death. So, I walked it out like my middle school gym teacher would have wanted me to do, and I'm happy to say that it's about 7pm and I feel hungry and only a little bit drowsy.
Indian food for dinner.
It's all worth it now.
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