London Calling

Gingerbread Castle at the shop!

With classes over, my friend Judith and I decided to take a trip down to jolly old London! We were both busy (me getting things done before the winter break adventure and Judith getting ready to go home for the holidays) and budgeting, so we decided to go for only one night. This trip felt like my most “youth backpacker-y” trip so far, since we literally carried our backpacks around with us for most of the trip. We took an early, early morning coach, a trip that took about 4 hours total, and we arrived to fog and mist (typical, *sigh*). After we left Victoria Coach Station, we found a sweet little shop to get a snack. We got coffee and I got cake (it was truly amazing). After we had warmed up a bit and filled our stomachs, we decided to go sightseeing! 

We decided to take the Underground, or the Tube if we want to get colloquial, with Judith as our fearless navigator! Honestly, the London Underground is great. I’ve ridden on public transport systems all over the place, and the Tube system is one of the easiest to navigate, most efficient, and cleanest I’ve every used. Props to you London for making your mass transit so easy that tourists don’t have to stop and ask locals for directions.  We got off at Westminster and emerged from the Earth to the looming image of Big Ben! I was so tired from the bus ride and a little disappointed by the area around the coach station, that when we bumped into the Houses of Parliament and Big Ben, I do believe I exclaimed “Now that’s what I’m talking about!” to Judith, and much to the amusement of many Londoners and tourists around us. 

We took innumerable photos (or at least I did) of Big Ben and Parliament, and Judith took polaroid photos even (so cool!). We got up close and personal with the London Eye, but we didn’t ride it since the tickets were insanely expensive (like 50-60£ or some nonsense like that). We wandered around until we found Westminster Abbey and then further until we got to Buckingham Palace. I’m not gonna lie, Buckingham Palace was a little anti-climactic. I’d seen it so many times on TV and in photos, and in real life, it wasn’t nearly as big and grand as I had imagined it would be. It was there, and reminded me of some of the other stately English homes I had seen, though a little bigger, and most disappointing of all? There were none of those guards in red coats with funny hats! Unforgivable, truly. 

Wondering where the Red Coats are

By this time, it was getting darker, and the mist was turning into a drizzly rain. We took the Tube around a little more, going to St. Paul’s Cathedral before heading over to our hostel. We landed at King’s Cross Station and, of course, had to make a stop at the Platform 9 3/4 photo-op and store. We got several geeky souvenirs, but we had to make up for the fact that tickets to the Harry Potter studios were all booked up! 

Piccadilly Circus

It was full on pouring when we left King’s Cross, and we had quite a bit of trouble navigating in the dark, in the rain, with our little paper map melting in our hands, but eventually we found our hostel. The guy at the check-in counter was very chatty, giving us lots of recommendations when all we wanted to do was get to our room and dry off. After we dropped our stuff in our room, we headed back out to find some dinner. We decided on a Vietnamese place, and I’m not gonna lie, it was really nice to have some quality Asian food again! The food was great, and Judith got some hands-on practice using chopsticks! She also tried deep-fried ice cream for the first time! It was a tasty time. We hopped on the Tube again and got out at Piccadilly Circus, or “our Time Square” as the hostel guy called it. It had a few big screens up, and a couple of theaters, but it definitely didn’t hold a candle to actual Time Square, but I could see where the comparison comes from, I guess. 

Me with the phone booths at Piccadilly Circus

We wandered around there, and went to China Town since Judith had never been to any sort of China Town before. It was cute, but it was small compared to some of the China Towns I’ve been to in other cities. We popped into an Asian market and I made Judith get a Ramunen (Japanese Soda). 

Judith excited about China Town

Then we headed to Oxford Street to check out Selfridge’s. The window displays were cool, but the interior reminded me of the State Street Marshall Field’s store (well, Macy’s now, I guess…) in terms of the interior design. We wandered around in there a bit, but by then we were both so totally exhausted from being on our feet all day long, that we were a little zombified, and headed back to the hostel for an early night. 

The hostel was clean, and we sprung for a private room and bathroom since the prices were so cheap. It was my first time sleeping in a bunk bed, and I slept on the top bunk, which was novel. I don’t think either of us woke very rested, though. The hostel provided a meagre (read: ‘pathetic’) breakfast of your choice of white or wheat toast, jam, and instant cocoa or orange juice. We checked out early and headed out to site see and get some coffee (I desperately needed the energy after the sad little breakfast). We went to the Tower of London, one of my top “must-see” items, and Judith was sweet enough to entertain herself while I paid to go in and take a tour. 

Tower Bridge

I took a tour led by one of the Yeoman, and it was quite informative and entertaining. I don’t know what I was expecting, but I guess not what the Tower turned out to be. The layout reminded me of those Medieval towns you see on TV shows. I saw the place where all those beheaded queens were buried and I saw the Crown Jewels (which, let me tell you, were impressive up close). I hit up the gift shop (who doesn’t love a good gift shop, honestly?) and went out to find Judith. By then it was warmer out and we headed to Trafalgar Square, which was full of people and performers, and generally a cool place. We ate lunch across the street from the square and then headed to the Natural History Museum. 

The museum building itself was really pretty, and we headed inside and Judith took pictures with all the dinosaurs. We went to most of the exhibits, and got to see the dinosaur exhibit, and the taxidermy animals, one of my favorites (I know, that sounds strange, but I both interesting and find it super creepy, which makes me love it). After we had gone to most of the exhibits (we skipped the minerals exhibit, and I skipped the creepy-crawlies), we went and got tea at the museum cafe. We stayed there until the museum closed, and then took the Tube back to the coach station, since there wasn’t much else for us to do at that point. We were exhausted, but we had two hours to go until our coach left, so we ended up just sitting around at the station. 

Judith meets the Dinosaurs

Our coach ride back to Leeds was one of the longest 4 hour stretches of my life. There were several small children on the bus, which spelled disaster from the moment we saw them board, but to top it off, there was a woman sitting in the row in front of us, who spent 3 of the 4 hours talking loudly on the phone. Our trip was from 8-12 pm, and all I wanted to do was doze off, but this lady was yammering away, not making any attempt to converse quietly. If she had been in the middle of a crisis, or was talking to someone out of necessity, that would have been one thing, but I think she was doing it to pass the time. She would hang up with someone, and then scroll through her contact list and call someone else. At one point she was laughing so loud it sounded like cackling. It was so rough, but we made it. 

After spending an exhausting and jam-packed 30 hours in London, I feel like I saw everything I really, really wanted to see, and I got to spend some quality time with Judith, which was nice! It took me a full day to recover, and then I had to hop back in and work on at least one of my two essays before leaving for my adventure (who knows what’s going to happen with the second essay, but at this point, I honestly don’t really care anymore). 

Still had a lovely time with Judith in London!

The Yule Ball

Or As Close As I'm Going to Get

Anyone who knows me knows of my unyielding and exuberant love for Harry Potter (I mean, I sewed myself a Ravenclaw robe, for goodness sake). Growing up, I thought of myself as Hermione (just a little quieter), and I waited with more than a little actual belief for my Hogwarts letter to come. I have always been completely enamored of the series, especially the completely magical Yule Ball from the fourth book. At home, in high school and even at Wellesley we never had any truly black-tie formal events, and certainly no winter formals where everything was festive and frosted, and I think that’s why I loved the idea of the Yule Ball so much (because, let’s be real, aside from the Waltz at the beginning and the whole magic aspect, it’s fairly similar to Prom). Winter itself has always felt sort of magical to me, so the idea of getting dressed up in the winter, and of dancing around in a ballroom covered with snow and silvery ornaments, and frosted ‘ice’ decorations seemed so perfect and wonderful.

Well, of course, coming to study in England, I got my wish! My residence, Devonshire Hall, threw a Christmas Ball on December 2, and it was amazing! 

I’m not entirely sure what to say about it, aside from the fact that it was like English Winter Prom. My friends and I had pre-drinks at the residence, then decided it would be fun and exciting to take the bus into the City Center (ahem, “Centre”) to the hotel. Of course the bus was late. So late, in fact, that we decided to just take a different bus, assuming it would let us off near-ish to where we needed to be. Hahahaha. Never assume, friends. At least, not when it comes to public transport. When we got to the threshold of the city center, we decided to wait just one more stop, thinking we’d get a few blocks closer rather than walk in our heels. Instead of moving a block or two closer to the hotel, the bus turned, and drove numerous blocks in the opposite direction of the hotel. 

Our smiles and hearts sank as we realized what was happening. We hurriedly got off at the next stop, and luckily, one of my friends knew where she was going (I honestly had no idea where we were at that point). With the bus having been so behind, and now being on the other side of the city from where we needed to be, we were running quite late, so we had to start booking it a little bit so that we could make it before the meal started. 

Running through town because we took the wrong bus, whoops

We got to the hotel, breathless, and by the time we got there the arrival drinks were quite watered down from the melted ice, but we were just in time to enter the ballroom and sit down for dinner! It was a yummy though unmemorable dinner, bacon-wrapped chicken that was quite light on the bacon and some veggies (potatoes? maybe carrots? definitely brussels sprouts, but I didn’t eat those, yuck), and a massive brownie and mini minced pies for dessert. It was nice, and there was free wine. Lots of free wine. I think our table of 10 went through like 6 bottles of wine (mostly drunk by my 4 friends and I, to be honest). We were nice and warm and floaty by the end of dinner, when the live jazz music finished up and they put on the club music. 

We waited in line for quite a while to use the photo-booth, and we did lots of dancing. Honestly, I’ve always found it weird to dance to club music while in formal wear, I always have. So, towards the end of the night, I decided to request “Dancing in the Moonlight”, and the DJ was so keen on my request that he played retro disco music for the next 1.5 hours. It was the best. So much more fun to dance to than electronic mishmash of sounds or the “Top 40”. 

As I’ve mentioned in previous posts, the Brits are born partiers. There were people who got up on the tables to dance, there were people holding entire wine bottles while dancing on the dance floor. It was a wild time. At 1 AM the Ball was over and we all turned back into pumpkins (kidding), and we took a cab back home. It was a Tuesday after all. It seemed that most everyone else went to the “official afterparty” at one of the nearby clubs, which was scheduled to go until 4 AM. The stamina of the Brits for partying astounds and worries me. 

Overall, it was a lovely time, and a great way for me to fulfil my dream of going to the Yule Ball, just sans magic (unfortunately). 

Mind The Gap

AKA: I'm Sorry I Have Not Been Posting Things

I could say that it was the end of the semester scramble that left me with no time to spend on extraneous things like writing blog posts, but, honestly, that would be a lie. The end of this semester was almost too chill for me. Unlike at Wellesley, or even in high school, my final exams and papers are all after winter break, so this semester wound down very quietly, fading into break without much ado.

The real reason I haven't written any posts since Thanksgiving? Well, I've just been so, so lazy. Honestly, I've been doing a bit of reading here and there, watching a lot of Netflix, and sleeping so much that I lost all of my momentum to do essentially anything that involved effort of any sort.

But! I am on break now! And I have to avoid studying for my exams and working on my paper (ahahahahahaha....) both of which are due the first day back from break! So! I will be catching up on my blog posts in the interim!

Some of them will be horrendously late, but, nevertheless, they will be there. A quick rundown of the major plot points in my life that are going to be delved into: the Christmas Ball, my trip to London, spending Christmas (and other major holidays) away from my family/home, and my winter break European adventures.

And yes, I still haven't posted my photos from Rome to the Gallery page, let alone any of the photos I've taken since then. Some of these photos are up on my Facebook page and several are posted to my Instagram (both of which can be accessed via the right-hand side bar). It's all going to be up and available soon (or at least before I return to the US), I promise!

So, remember, if alighting from my blog at this station, please be aware that more posts should be up shortly.

Thursday 26th November 2015

AKA Thanksgiving

Though you would never guess that since today was just another day of class for me. Today I'm experiencing one of those rare moments where I really feel my American-ness while abroad. It's more than just feeling like a foreigner or out of place because Thanksgiving is such a uniquely American holiday.

Right now, I would normally be watching the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade on TV, followed by the dog show (one of my favorite holiday programs), but instead I'm writing this post while I wait for my seminar to start. It's just an all-around strange feeling, like it's something that doesn't exist it's such a non-event. I mean, objectively I knew this was how it would be, but it's just a little surreal to be like "Guys! It's Thanksgiving! Really? No one?" in my head all day, while everyone around me is just going around living their lives. It's weird to be going around, sitting in class, discussing readings and historical events when the whole time I really just want to be lying on my couch watching A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving.

I've been feeling a little blue about the whole thing for the past week, so yesterday I decided to go out and treat myself to a little shopping as a way to cheer myself up. I figured, if I'm not going home, if I don't even get the day off, then I can at least wear a new dress! That feels like a totally valid thing to do, right? Although the dress did keep me feeling a little more upbeat today, I'm still a little down an out today, it just can't be helped I suppose.

I'm not gonna lie, I'm kind of bummed out about the food (it's always the food with me though). I feel a little like Peppermint Patty felt when seeing that Charlie Brown had cooked up some toast, popcorn, pretzels, and jellybeans for dinner to be honest, except I'm the one who has to procure the food. Normally we have a true feast, with deep fried turkey, and green bean casserole with the crispy onions on top, and two kinds of stuffing, and candied sweet potatoes, and those weird jellied cranberry pucks (you know the ones I'm talking about American friends, that stuff that comes out of the tin can and stays that shape), and an assortment of delicious pies. Here, I have a choice between another bowl of reheated pasta, the same one that I've been eating for the past several days and that I will continue to eat for the next week or so, or mediocre take out from some place on the walk back to my dorm, which includes knock-off McDonald's and a sub-par Chinese take out place that seems to be run by a whole bunch of non-Chinese people.

I mean, I know this is a one time thing for now, that I'll be back celebrating Thanksgiving next year, I think I just hadn't fully prepared myself for how very, very strange it would be to have to be outside the US on Thanksgiving. Guess it's just making me a little homesick for turkey and sweet potatoes and all things sweet and pumpkin flavored. Ah well, I'll make a go of knock-off McDonald's!

My Roman Holiday II

Part 2: When In Rome

Ok, ok, I know. It's been like a month since I was actually in Rome and I'm just finishing up the Rome posts now. Sorry, I was busy, I do have actual school work to do sometimes guys, and I just finished up paper season (phew).

In fair Rome is where we had set our scene. It was sunny and warm and I'd just had a wonderful little morning with my mom and aunt at an outdoor market. The rest of the day was decidedly less eventful. Mostly we just wandered around, we did some shopping, mom got her pair of custom made sandals (which she sort of needs since she has, essentially, child-sized feet), and we looked at some landmarks. I made it my personal mission that day to pick up every ironic postcard of the pope that I laid my eyes on, and boy was it a fruitful day. Everyone seemed to make some fun purchases, and we ate some yummy pizza and saw the sights.

The Trevi fountain was nice, though it was a little disappointing since there was a fence up around it and the fountain was devoid of water (wah wah), but it was cool nonetheless to see if "close up" (we couldn't get that close--see: fence). Then we walked all the way over to the Spanish Steps. It was getting kind of dark by then, and the plaza at the bottom of the steps was very, very crowded. I didn't even realize we were looking at the Spanish Steps until someone told me because, honestly, it was just a large outdoor staircase, and there wasn't much that made it stand out (yes I know, a heretical thing of me to say. I promise, I am an appreciator of art and architecture, but really, after several days of being on my feet all day with no alone time, can you blame me for being rather unenthused about a staircase, famous or not?). It, too, was fenced off, so, yeah that gives you a sense of the sightseeing portion of our Sunday.

At the end of the day, one of my aunts (cousins? again with the family tree and title thing) wanted to visit the Gucci store. Of course, me being me, I followed her and her husband in like a duckling following its mother because I was intensely curious to see the inside of a real designer boutique. I mean, the fanciest store I've ever been inside in my life is probably Lord and Taylor. I felt a bit like an imposter, like if I didn't walk right on my relatives' heels, someone would sniff me out and a salesperson would gracefully push me out the front door with their carefully gloved hands. I know, it sounds ridiculous, but it was all just so dreadfully chic and glamorous.

I found it fascinating to watch as someone bought an actual designer handbag from a designer boutique. It was probably the largest purchase I've ever witnessed someone make, aside from when my parents bought their car (though the car dealership wasn't nearly as aesthetically pleasing or amenable, I mean, they brought out free water in little glass bottles, with crystal tumblers to serve in all on a dark lacquered tray. I mean...).

After that, and a lot more walking, and quite a bit of time being lost, we made it back to the hotel and went out to dinner, sort of as a way to celebrate my last night there. Dinner was nice, I was exhausted, and we had to take a ton (and I mean, a ton) of group photos. I had a fairly tearful goodbye the next morning with my family, as they all piled into a van to go on their food tasting tour of the city, and I waited in the hotel lobby for my cab to the airport to arrive. I hadn't really realized until that moment how much I missed the sense of familiarity that comes from home, even just from being around other Americans (I haven't met more than one or two in Leeds). It was a strange, makeshift, portable version of home, but nonetheless, it was decidedly less foreign and I felt that.

I didn't have to miss it for too long though. Hahahaha. Haha. Ha. Ha...

I got all the way to the airport, stood in line, and when I got up to the check in counter, found out that my flight was extremely delayed due to some monster fog that had eaten the Netherlands. Consequently I was going to miss my connection back to Leeds. Yes. I stood there in the airport, breathing very deeply, insisting that the counter employee check every single flight back to Leeds that day. She kept clicking her mouse, mumbling to herself in Italian, and shaking her head, while I stood there focusing all of my energy on not crying in public. I tried not to think about the fact that I had three classes the next day, or the strict attendance policy Leeds seems to promote, or any of that. Nonetheless, I was stressed. I mean, I was Princess-Mia-driving-the-Mustang stressed. I was breathing very heavily, which made the airline person glance up in concern at me a few times. Finally, she said something to the effect of well, I see no solution for you today, but I can book you on a flight tomorrow! TOMORROW. Apparently, this fog was so crazy that a whole bunch of flights were disrupted, and so many passengers were displaced that every flight to Leeds, on every airline flying out of Rome to every possible connecting city was absolutely full.

Just my luck.

I was sort of in a daze as I accepted my new boarding pass, asking where I could find a cab. I didn't really see any other option except to just go back to the hotel. By this point I was totally out of cash, so I had to wait a while until a cab with a credit card reader could pick me up. I continued to do my paper-bag breathing (sans paper bag) all the way back to the hotel, where I walked up through the front doors to the astonishment of the concierge at the desk who had seen me off in the morning. I sort of just shrugged my shoulders and said, well, I'm back. He was very kind, asking me if everything was alright, and if my family knew what had happened. They didn't (since my phone didn't work unless I had wifi). Well, he said, this will be a nice surprise for the Aquinos (which he, and everyone else, insisted on pronouncing "Ah-KWEE-no", saying that it was an Italian name, even when we said it was pronounced differently in Southeast Asia. That's a different story, though).

I was so distraught and caught up in the stress (as I am wont to do) that I completely forgot for a while that if I was going to be stranded somewhere, at least I was stranded in ROME. Eventually I calmed down and managed to let my family know what had happened, then settled in to catch up on some homework before they came back. I sat at the desk with the window open and a cup of coffee and I felt a little better. My family was very sympathetic, and I treated myself to another plate of tiramisu at dinner that night (I deserved it).

Then I had to do the tearful goodbye again. My family was scheduled to leave early early the next day to catch a train to Venice, but my flight wasn't until the afternoon. I woke up briefly to say goodbye to my mom and aunt, but I was only half awake really. When I woke up again a few hours later, I was alone in the room, which made me feel a little blue and achy, but was what I had expected really.

This time, I actually made it back to Leeds. Of course, the universe wasn't going to make it easy though. The wrong terminal was printed on my boarding pass, so I ended up having to walk 2 terminals over, which was fine. But then, I had to take a tram all the way to the international terminal, and then I got on a bus to go out to the tarmac to actually get on the plane (which I really hate doing, it's just so much shuffling). After a few hours we landed in London Heathrow, which is just a hot mess, let me tell you.

I had to first figure out which terminal I was transferring too, since this would be a domestic and not an international flight, and it turns out that I would have to take a 20 minute long bus ride to my connecting terminal. There, I had to check in and pick up my boarding pass. All I had was the flight and ticket number that the woman from the day before (when I didn't cry in public) had written on the back of my first boarding pass. The man at the counter seemed a little confused, but eventually he sorted it out. Then I had to stand in line for another 45 minutes to get through passport control. They only had 1 person stamping passports that weren't UK/EU. Oh joy. Then it was another 30 minutes through security, and by then I only had 15 minutes to pick up a sandwich before I was scheduled to board. But of course, after running through the terminal to make it, I get there and find out that my connection has been delayed a half hour. Wonderful. I love traveling. So much fun. Adventure.

I made landed in Leeds only to be welcomed by insanely thick fog. Gotta love that fog. It was 8:30 PM before I actually made it back to my room where I promptly fell onto the bed in exhaustion.

After Italy, going back to school, going back to cold, damp, dark England felt like being pushed into the deep end of the pool: you sink all the way to the bottom and have to fight for some momentum in order to get yourself back up to the air, struggling to breath the whole way. I felt like Dorothy at the end of the story, when she leaves the Technicolor dream world of Oz and heads back to literally gray Kansas. While there isn't nearly as much corn and dust as Kansas, Northern England can certainly rival Kansas in dull grayness. I guess that every time it's cold and windy and rainy here (i.e. every single day), I'll just have to remember that I'll always have Rome.

Micro Post No.5

Hey guys, more proof that I'm feeding myself! I'm actually pretty proud of this one, I'm not gonna lie. It's baked salmon with dill and lemon, and roasted potatoes and onions! I know! Fancy!

Anyways, I know I haven't posted in a while, but it's been a crazy few weeks for me. I went to Rome (pictures and posts to come!) and for the past two weeks it has been paper-writing season for me! Needless to say, with me holed up in the library writing papers, I haven't had much time or inclination to write blog posts that will do my adventures any justice. But just know that they are coming and you should be excited!

Stratford, Stratford, Wherefore Art Thou Stratford?

Surprise, surprise, I went on another day trip this weekend! Bet you all didn’t see that one coming from a mile away. The never-ending day trips is all a part of my carpe diem strategy while I’m abroad—who knows when I’ll be able to make it back to this side of the ocean, so I should probably make the most of my time while I’m here.

Shakespeare's home and garden

This week my friends and I visited Stratford-Upon-Avon, hometown of Shakespeare. The drive was long and the stubborn English weather mocked us with rain all day long (until it was time to get on the bus home, that is), but it was still a really fun day! 

Stratford sits on the river Avon (obviously) and is a quaintly preserved Medieval town. The Medieval buildings were interspersed with newer construction, and many of the antique structures were filled with modern high street stores, though there were still several quirky, unique little boutiques all over the place. There were a lot of candy and fudge shops, and along the main “Shakespeare oriented” road, there was a teashop in about every second or third storefront. We ended up getting lunch at a funny little pub called The Pen and Parchment. We ended up ordering traditional English breakfast all around (what can I say, I’m a breakfast sort of a girl) while praying for the rain to let up. It was a really neat little place—behind our booth there was a chalkboard with a record of the landlords going back to the mid 18th century. It was not only incredible to see the unbroken chain of owners, but also just really amazing to know that such a quaint and unassuming little establishment had such a long history. Then again, I tend to be overly fascinated by all things old, especially the exceptionally old things in Europe. 

For the most part we just wandered around. We visited the house where Shakespeare was born and raised. Apparently his family was quite well off due to his father’s booming glove making business. Interesting. We spent quite a bit of time in the numerous gift shops as well. Stratford is quite the tourist hub (and apparently has been for like 400 years…), so there were a lot of cheesy souvenir shops and the like. I didn’t mind it though—I sort of love touristy things and being a tourist: it’s fun to encounter places for the first time and look at them with a sense of astonishment, and I feel like you don’t always get that if you’re trying to blend in with locals or if you get used to a place, you stop exploring and appreciating. 

Medieval houses are small...

Real sugar cubes!!!

We also visited the house of John Harvard, founder of the American university of the same name. Apparently he and Shakespeare were nearly contemporaries! Who knew they hailed from the very same little town in England? After that we went to the home of Shakespeare’s eldest daughter and her husband, who was a doctor. By then it had started to pour torrents on us, so after walking around the house we decided to have some tea in the attached cafe. It was lovely and warm and by the time we had finished our snacks the rain had let up! 

Then we were able to go to the local church and see where Shakespeare and his family are buried. It’s amazing to me that he was baptized, married, and buried in the very same church in the same little town! I suppose the world was just a smaller place 500 years ago. After that, we mostly wandered around. We were told that the layout of the town was preserved from Shakespeare’s time, so we were walking the same paths he would recognized, which I found to be very cool and strange at the same time. Overall, it was a nice day even though we got drenched! 

Stratford church where Shakespeare is buried

As for the rest of the week, I’ve been busy working on school work and my project for Special Collections. I think I’ve narrowed down the scope of my Special Collections project a bit more—it’s so exciting to think that I’ll have something concrete at the end of the semester to show for all my work! 

School work is starting to pick up. I’ve got two papers due in the next 2-3 weeks that I really need to start looking at. I’m a little worried since the way in which papers are written here is a little different than what I’m used to. There’s a different reference system that doesn’t seem very efficient to me, and for my literature paper I’m expected to do a lot of external research, which is new for me. I’m used to just digging into the text and laying out my own thoughts and arguments. Still, that should be easier than the philosophy paper (*yikes*). I’ve never written a philosophy paper and the material still feels a little out of the grasp of my full understanding, so we will just have to cross our fingers and see what happens. 

Cambridge to Cambridge Connection

This week in “Austen Does Day Trips” I ventured down to Cambridge with some of my friends. After leaving at the ridiculously early hour of 7:30 (uhg it was still dark out...or was it just really cloudy?), we arrived in the picturesque land of Cambridge. 

Me, Sara, and Petra in front of King's College (pc: Sara)

While I have been to Cambridge, Massachusetts numerous times, have walked along cobblestone streets there, and have even drunken tea, Cambridge, UK was starkly different. The town and campus looked like they had been plucked out of a story book or movie set! We wandered around amongst hoards of Asian tourists, peering into the windows of posh tailor shops advertising £600 suit jackets, strolling through an open air market, and generally enjoying the prettiness of the setting. 

We ate lunch at a delicious Italian restaurant, which made me all the more excited about my upcoming trip to Rome (!). After the one of the best eggplant parmesans I’ve ever had, we ventured to Great St. Mary’s Church, at the center of Cambridge. The church itself was quite pretty, though I always feel strange walking on stores paved with people’s gravestones—it feels disrespectful, but seems quite common in Europe. We decided to go up into the tower of the church, which advertised the best views of Cambridge on a sign in the church gift shop (a strange thing in and of itself, but no one else seemed to think it bordering on the realm of Indulgences, so I let it be…). 

So narrow...so steep... (pc: Sara)

We had to climb up the narrowest and steepest set of stairs I’ve ever climbed in my life. I’ve never thought of myself as a claustrophobic person, but I was holding on for dear life as well climbed up to the top. The views were absolutely worth it, though. The buildings at Cambridge (like in many European cities, I’ve found) were all rather low to the ground, so we could see a lot. The campus is beautiful, and we had an amazing view of the iconic King’s College. The lawn had such precise stripes (that you were constantly reminded not to walk on), that the whole place seemed like something out of “Alice in Wonderland”. I read the little information pamphlet about the church and was once again amazed at the immense age of some things in Europe. The church had been “well established” already when the university started building up around it in the 12th century CE. My constant shock amuses my friends, but I can’t help but feel a sense of reverence walking around a fully functional structure that is exponentially older than my country (in terms of it’s “establishment”, trying to be PC here folks). 

Top of the tower! (pc: Petra)

After our long descent in the spiral stairs from hell, we decided to stroll through the local art museum. It was quite nice with a pretty solid collection! I even got to see a real portrait of Henry VIII that wasn’t in a history textbook—it was quite novel. We spent a few hours tottering around the museum and then we went and met up with a friend of mine, Mark, who I’d met in American Cambridge last year while he was studying abroad at MIT. It was loads of fun to see him again, though it was sort of like seeing two worlds collide: my Boston life and my Leeds life bumped into each other in Cambridge! Mark took us punting, a uniquely British activity. Punts are little river boats that you move with a long pole, like gondolas (but the driver doesn’t sing to you!). 

Mark making punting look easy (pc: Sara)

Mark punted us around for the majority of the trip making it look quite easy (little did I know that he has done this numerous times before and was also a crew person…), so when he offered me a go, I thought it might be fun. Haha. Ha. I tried so hard to make the boat move, but mostly I swung the pole around in the water, trying to make the boat point straight (but mostly just making it spin around and drift sideways). I think I moved us a few inches forward, but really this was just a rude awakening to the complete lack of core strength I have as I desperately threw my entire weight into trying to move the boat and essentially failing to do so. 

Me failing to move the punt (pc: Sara)

Mark had pity on me and resumed punting, giving us his best tour guide impression as we went. My friends and I learned all about the womping willow (both of them) that grew near the river, the stake where freshers who are witches are burned, and that Queen’s College is so named because that is where the Queen herself throws all her ragers. It was truly informative. Mark also rejoiced in his quest to his every duck, goose, or swan we encountered with true vigor. Overall, our trip was really nice! It’s always good to get out of the residences, off campus, and away from Leeds for a day. 

The always lovely Petra and Sara :) 

It was nice catching up with an old friend, though it did make me think of Wellesley, which made me a little homesick (as did talking about how much I missed Taco Bell…I know, I’m an addict…). My bout of homesickness lasted a few days, and I ended up drowning it in a small shopping trip, 2 packages of Oreos (which are blasphemously sold in the biscuit aisle of the grocery store!), Willow’s sad and soft playlist, and a TV binge. 

For the most part I’m just trying to keep myself busy to ward off any feelings of homesickness, and it’s proving not too difficult to do so here! I’ve started working at Special Collections regularly now! I’m helping to catalog a rather extensive archive of material from the famous British poet Tony Harrison. I’m mainly working on his photo albums (of which there are many), and throughout the semester I’m working to put out a digital resource of images from the albums and texts that focus on one of Harrison’s projects. It’s all quite exciting and everyone at Special Collections is quite lovely (though I do miss the people at Wellesley’s Special Collections quite dearly!). 

Outside of academics, I’ve had a few more moments of culture self-awareness. I’ve recently discovered that some truly wonderful food items are not universal! Several of my European friends have asked me about hash browns when I was describing what I eat for breakfast (a list that amused them in and of itself, but that’s a different story). I was truly astonished and mildly horrified that the wonderful item that are hash browns are not enjoyed globally! A true travesty if there ever was one. I’ve also discovered that my friends from continental Europe have never had Starbucks Pumpkin Spice Lattes before! I’m not really much of a Starbucks supporter in general, their coffee is honestly nothing special, but their Pumpkin Spice Lattes are the gateway into Fall for me! So we are all trying (or have tried) them at my insistence (I tried to describe it as drinkable pumpkin pie, but that reference didn’t land because apparently that’s an American thing too). Lastly, root beer floats! My favorite dessert! I’ve described to numerous people before about how wonderful root beer floats are because it’s not too much ice-cream and you can quench your thirst at the same time and it gets so frothy and wonderful, but my friends all looked quite disgusted and confused when I described the concept. 

Speaking of unique food experiences, this past Monday I went to my program director’s home for dinner! It was one of the most English experiences I’ve had so far! He and his family live in York (about 30 minutes away by train) in a sweet little row house. He had invited me and two of his post-grad (or grad students in US English) that night to eat with him, his wife, his daughter (about my age), and his son (elementary school age). They were all so lovely and welcoming and I had a really lovely time! My favorite part of their house was probably the kitchen because it was so cozy! It even had one of those old fashioned oven/stove tops! We had a very very British meal, as well. We had roast beef (and everyone was amused and slightly horrified when I said I’d only ever had it in lunch meat form in plastic from the store), which was served with horseradish and “hot” English mustard (both were quite mild by my standards, though). We also had some yummy baked or steamed veggies and Yorkshire pudding (which is not like the chocolate pudding you can get in the US, but like a dough puff that you bake). For dessert (which is also called pudding, confusingly enough) we had a yummy apple tart or cake of sorts, and a chocolate cheese cake! The conversation was interesting (I learned a lot about the NHS and its politics) and everyone was so sweet! Plus it was just so nice to have a real, home cooked meal after a month and a half of reheated pasta everyday!

Blog Updates

Hello there, just wanted to let you all know that I've made a few updates to my blog architecture in the past week or so!

If you haven't yet noticed, I've added a "Blog Archives" page, which has links to every single post that I've made! I have to update it manually, so the most recent post or two might not be added immediately!

I've also added a link to a more interactive map on the "Track My Travels" page. The linked map is essentially the same, but it has all my labels and descriptions on it!

Lastly, I've just added a "Gallery" page, which holds an extensive collection of photos from my life abroad (many of which weren't taken by me!). Many of the photos aren't posted on any of my other social media accounts, so get your fill of living vicariously through me and tracking my movements on this page.

Happy reading!

Micro Post No. 4

More pasta, yeah! A veggie-filled red wine sauce, complimented by a nice glass of red wine!

"To Pemberley, therefore, they were to go"

-Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a certain girl in possession of the name Austen must like all things “Jane Austen”. At least, that’s what everyone seems to think. I come from a family of bibliophiles, and my mother loved Jane Austen so much that she named me after her. Now I will confess something here, Jane Austen is not my favorite author. 

I know, I know, cue the shrieks and disbelief and looting. I like Jane Austen, sure: I admire her writing, she’s smart as a whip, hilarious, and keenly aware of how people tick, and I’ve always admired her as a woman for what she did in her time. She’s a key historical figure and a wonderful author, but if I’m being honest, a lot of the connection I’ve felt toward Jane Austen is not through her writing, per se, but through our shared name. 

Nevertheless, even I couldn’t help but jump up down and clap my hands like a little girl when I found out I was visiting Pemberley. Yes. The Pemberley. 

Much like Elizabeth Bennet, I did not find myself at “Pemberley” on purpose, in fact it wasn’t until the night before my trip that someone enlightened me. I simply thought that it would be fun to see the home of a Duke and Duchess (we don’t have nobility in the US, so this seemed so novel to me). I booked the trip, my first solo travel since my arrival, and was excited to go and see how the other half lived. I knew literally nothing about this place, Chatsworth House, only that it’s the seat of the Duke of Devonshire. When I mentioned the name to a group of my friends and someone said, “Oh that’s Pemberley! From the movie!”, I frantically started googling this, and sure enough, there were photos of 2005 Kiera Knightley on the official Chatsworth House website. Needless to say, I was fairly psyched. 

The next day (Saturday), I got on the bus and made a few new friends, and watched the rolling country side full of sheep (there are so many sheep here in England, seriously, they are everywhere) turn into hills full of trees. I saw signs for Derbyshire, the residence of the one and only Mr. Darcy. We pulled up to the massive gates and the place was teaming with people. Apparently touring the houses of great men is still a favorite pastime today for the English and foreign tourists alike. 

I walked through the massive house with my new friends, remarking the whole way through about its size, its grandeur, and its age (everything in England is so old and that never ceases to be a source of awe and amusement for me). Almost every ceiling had fantastical and masterful scenes painted on them, the staircases were all gilt, the wood paneling so intricately carved to make the reliefs of fruit and flowers and fowl looks so vivid and lifelike and delicate. Everywhere you turned there was lux and ancient satins, velvets, hand painted wallpaper, and oriental rugs. It was almost too much for my eyes to take in. 

Touring the house wasn’t just like touring a historic site, it was also a bit like touring an art museum, that’s just how laden the walls were with art work. Almost every wall I looked at had paintings by grand masters, or portraits that belonged in history books (and some I’m sure I’ve seen in history books, actually). Every room held a little bit of history, such as the room that house Mary, Queen of Scots more than once as a prisoner. This house was so old and so famous that I’m still trying to wrap my head around how it fits into all these historical events. Royalty has stayed there, and it houses one of, if not the, largest and most important collection of art still in private hands in Europe (and maybe the world? Don’t quote me on that…), and it was also home to another famous Kiera Knightley role, oddly enough, Georgiana Cavendish, Duchess of Devonshire and the subject of the movie “The Duchess” (who also happened to be a distant relative of Princess of Diana). If you’re interested in reading more on the history of the house, I direct you to Wikipedia. 

Yes, that Duke of Wellington stayed here

Even with all the history abound, you could see elements of the modern Duke and Duchess everywhere. The 12th Duke of Devonshire and his wife are great patrons of contemporary art, it seems, as there are installations everywhere, thrown into the fray with classical, rococo, and medieval pieces throughout the house and grounds. It was sort of strange to see these pieces that would make more sense in the Guggenheim than amongst a garden full of Renaissance marble studies. The Duke and Duchess also seemed to like collecting rocks and minerals (hey there actual geologists, Willow and Vickey)— there were massive geodes all over the place. They are also really into their dogs, this I gleaned from a few portraits of the noble pooches, and the abundant dog paraphernalia to be found in the gift shop. 

A "canvas chair", one of many contemporary art installations in the house

After wandering through almost the whole house, I finally came to the room. The room from the film. The sculpture gallery of Pemberley fame. Though it looked different from when Kiera Knightley strolled through 10 years ago, many of the pieces were the same, with the addition of a few contemporary installations. 

Kiera Knightley in the Pemberley Sculpture Gallery

My own photo of the Chatsworth House Sculpture Gallery

I made my way through and ended up in the gift shop, which was filled with books divulging the history of the house, real Chatsworth wool blankets and hats, local wines and honey, cute mugs and magnets with pictures of the house, and several shelves devoted to Jane Austen fan items. They certainly knew how to play to the crowd; I mean, they were playing the score from the movie in the gift shop. I got innumerable presents for my mom, since I knew she would probably pass out when she’d heard I’d gotten to visit Pemberley, and of course, I had to take some photos with the bust of Matthew Macfadyen’s Mr. Darcy. I mean, how could I pass up an opportunity like this? You could actually buy miniatures of the bust to take home with you (I would’ve gotten you one, mom, but they were pricey and heavy). 

Me and Mr. Darcy 

After a sweet lunch at the cafe in the garden, I made my way to take in the famous view of the house, the view from the movie, with the long lake. It was gorgeous. I can’t really describe my experience, it was just really pleasant and hard to believe, that’s the only way I can put it, really. I know people will say that it’s just like looking at a set, but this could have been the real Pemberley actually: Jane Austen visited this area once, and even visited Chatsworth House—a lot of people think that this was the real-life inspiration for Pemberley. 

Me and "Pemberley"

After I had my fill of gazing at the facade of Pemberley, I strolled through the extensive grounds with my new friends. There were lakes, waterfalls, art installations, hedge mazes (which took like an hour or more to navigate, oh my gosh), and traditional English style gardens. 

Very "Alice in Wonderland" hedge maze

As we wandered around, I looked at all the people and thought about how strange it must be, not only to live in such a massive and historically important house and have essentially a national park as your backyard, but to have so many strangers constantly milling around. I know that the public is kept cordoned off, only allowed to see a handful of rooms compared to the nearly 100/126 private rooms, but still, the front of the building has a parking lot, and there’s a gift shop and restaurants built into the house and stables, and people are constantly wandering around outside, which would make it awkward if you ever just wanted to sit outside and read or something. I can’t even imagine it, how strange that is, though I guess it sort of comes with the territory. 

Overall, I had a really lovely day! I made some new friends, I got to try a traditional Cornish pastie for lunch (it was sort of like a calzone but not pizza stuffings and made with pastry dough), I got to see an amazing, beautiful, and historic house that also happened to be the filming location for a very famous movie. Even though I didn’t make a wrong turn and rediscover my true love, or end up having waffles with a duchess (I still can’t believe that’s a real story…), I thoroughly enjoyed my time wandering the great house and grounds. Honestly, it was probably the best way for me to cure my bout of homesickness!

(Also, feel free to check out my Instagram account for more photos! Everyone should be able to see it!)

Week 2 in Review

Week 2 was good. Week 2 was busy. Lots of things are starting to move and I’m really excited at how my semester is turning out! My classes are all still going well, though they remain fairly uneventful. I was sad to see that my Medieval Lit professor isn’t the lecturer each week, so class wasn’t as groovy this time around. I also barely clawed my way through my first real philosophy class. I don’t know how people read and digest this stuff on their own—the words were all in English, but I couldn’t discern a coherent thought out of either of the two articles. Willow, you and your brain awe me. 

In my Cultural History class we had to read the US Declaration of Independence and Constitution, as well as a few Supreme Court cases for this week. It was really strange to read up on these documents that I’ve seen and learned about my whole life, and look at them from a linguistic and cultural perspective rather than just in the frame of “US History”. I also enjoyed hearing my English professor lecture on these things: it was strange to hear him talk about the “complicated back story” to so many of these cases (i.e. how US law works, the basic organization of the court systems, the events of the Revolutionary War), and I realized that the English students probably didn’t know all of this stuff, even many of the basics. I thought about how much I knew about the English/British equivalents (very minimal…), and realized that these documents would be a lot more confusing if that was my level of knowledge of them. 

I ended up doing quite a bit of speaking in the seminar on the US documents, since I was the only American in class and was probably the only person who had studied them or knew anything about the Constitution beyond the main document (we weren’t even assigned the Amendments—also, side note, I found it really funny that the lecturer thought that the 2nd and 13th Amendments were probably the most famous. I mean, they are important, and more exciting than say, the 27th Amendment, but what about the 1st? Or the 19th? I don’t know, maybe that’s just the American lens talking…). 

Actually, if anyone from high school is reading this, you would be quite proud and surprised with me! I’ve been speaking quite a lot in almost all of my classes. I think Wellesley has really done wonders for my ability to speak in class and group settings. In high school, getting me to talk was like pulling teeth, actually it might have been harder—I never spoke, sometimes even when directly spoken too (I was quite creative with head and hand gestures if I really wanted to remain silent). Even at Wellesley I haven’t been particularly loquacious. When I’m in class at Wellesley I’m also terrifyingly intimidated by everyone around who seems exponentially smarter and much more well spoken than I think I am, yet some of my classes have pushed me to speak up anyway. Now, maybe it’s just that most of my classes are filled with Freshers and I’m feeling more confident because I have a little more experience, or maybe I’m just a little more solid on my feet when it comes to sharing my thoughts. Who knows?

Aside from classes, I’ve had some developments in the Special Collections area of my program. As some of you may know, Wellesley sent me over to Leeds as a guinea pig for a new program they’re developing in relation with the university that will be focused on Book Studies and the history of print. This program is still pretty nebulous over here, but I’ve been open to suggestions and things are starting to move! On Thursday I was able to go to a really interesting debate on the Future of the Book. This event had a panel of several book industry experts from a librarian, to a publishing house rep, to some authors, professors, and specialists on print and book studies, etc. The debate was really well handled, everyone made very succinct and intriguing points, and I thoroughly enjoyed myself. On Friday I was able to attend part of a seminar on the history of printing at Leeds University and the history of small printing presses in general. This was another really nice, though much smaller, event. It was held in a beautiful room in Special Collections, and there was a sweet and delicious lunch provided. Though I didn’t know many of the figures who were discussed (there was mention of many poets and printers who originated in Leeds), I found the culture described really cool and was interested in the way it grew. Overall, they were some very lovely events and only the first of several to come. 

I also met briefly with a woman from Leeds’ Special Collections department about my potential involvement this semester! This is what I’m looking forward to most, actually! Even though I find the history of print to be fascinating, I do someday want to work in a curatorial capacity in a Special Collections library, so any work I can do is exciting for me! The woman I spoke to suggested that I work on a cataloging project of a poetry collection archive since poetry is something that’s of interest to me. She also suggested, and here’s the really fun part, that this project could potentially culminate in an online exhibit of sorts that I could curate! How exciting! I’ve done cataloging before at Wellesley, but I’ve never been able to put together any sort of exhibit! I’m really, really looking forward to this work and will keep you, my loyal readers, updated as it goes. 

Outside of the academic sphere, I went to an English sports ball game this week! “Leeds Varsity” is a massive event out here, where the varsity teams in every sport play the rival school, Leeds Beckett University. This tournament culminates in the men’s varsity rugby match. Now, anyone who knows me knows that I know nothing about sports (say that 10 times fast). I watch them sometimes, but do I ever know what’s happening? Nope. But this wasn’t so much about the rugby match, this was more of an experiential thing. I went with my Dutch flatmate who had never been to a big blowout sports match before, so it was a new experience for both of us in a way. We both got pints and watched the game trying to understand. 

Me and Judith having a pint at Varisty

I do not know how rugby works, but what I gathered was that it’s similar to American football sort of. The ball is a similar shape, and you throw the ball to each other and want to get a “touch down” in the “end zone”, but you can only throw the ball backwards. Also, there are these weird times when you can lift another player up on your shoulders, or when the whole team pushes against the other team in a big huddle. I don’t know, don’t quote me on any of these rules. The game lasted 80 minutes, and the first 70 minutes were pretty uneventful: Leeds Beckett scored a bunch of points, the players got into a minor fight, the ball got kicked into the stands a few times and hit some people in the head (it’s a very treacherous sport for spectators apparently…), and some drunk guys in ties and khakis threw their drinks onto the field and had to be escorted out, nothing crazy. The last 10 minutes, however…

I don’t want to say it was the wildest experience of my life, but it was up there. If David Letterman was making a list, this would for sure be on it. If I remember correctly it all started with the second fight between the two teams—this was swiftly broken up. Next thing you know, though, there’s some guy running across the field in street clothes. He’s waving at the crowds until he is caught by security and taken off the field. The announcers make a little PSA saying that this kid will be fined £80 on the spot, I’m sure in an attempt to prevent others from copying. This was of no avail, of course. Before you know it, there’s another kid on the field, from the other side of the stadium flipping off the crowd of the opposing team—he evades security pretty well, but is tackled by one of the rugby players. After him comes a mooner. This third kid is running down the field like the others, until he suddenly pulls his pants down and shuffles along forcing us all to watch. He was actually tackled to the ground, not just body slammed. Security tried their best, but kids kept jumping the fence onto the field. There was another kid who mooned the Beckett side of the stadium, a few kids who just flipped the crowds off, all of whom where tackled and escorted away. The best and wildest, though, was the streaker. Yes. The streaker. Some kid decided that he wanted to strip down to his birthday suit and run across the rugby field. I have no real words for this one, except that I cannot unsee it. Oddly enough, the streaker wasn't even the last kid to run on the field. All in all I believe there were 8 or 9 kids that night, and mind you all in the last 10 minutes of the game: I don’t even know how we lost because no was watching at that point. True madness. Judith and I went home scarred and confused that night. 

On a brighter note, several of my friends and I went to a lights festival last night! The light events and exhibits themselves were rather lack luster, but the street food was amazing. For the most part we just ended up wandering around the streets (which were filled with people wearing glow stick accessories). I had a burrito and reminisced about Chipotle with my friends, explaining to them what it was and why it is worthy of my nostalgic longing, and one of my flatmates willed some churros into existence. Quite impressive. It reminded me of my first year a little bit, when my friends and I had all just met, and we would get dressed up to go out and end up just wandering around Boston and Cambridge since we didn’t know anyone yet. We always ended up just getting food, which was still a pretty good night out by my standards to be honest. 

Overall it was a pretty good week. Still only the second week, with 9 more to go, but I’m excited to see what’s in store!