We arrive in Barcelona Thursday night and as we walk to our hotel we see hundreds and hundreds of students gathered at the placa right outside. What could this be? Oh nothing but the student riot against the privatization of European universities that was on the news the other day showing the violence between the police and students and the students and foreigners. Lovely. However, before we arrived Sarah fought off a man who put his hands in her bag to pickpocket her. All in a day's work.
As we're watching the riot unfold at a safe distance on our hotel balcony I happen to glance up to see a handsome young face on the balcony above. I tell Jenna and we look up again to now see two guapos. We signal Laurel and now there are three slices of Italy staring back. And the friendship began. Stefano, a.k.a. Stevie, Ricardo, a.k.a. Rich the Bitch, (he gave himself the nickname), and Gianmarco, a.k.a Gianmarco...are 22 year olds from Como, Italy. They live in the mountains, know minimal English, and are eager to teach us some Italian. Everyone went to dinner at a place around the corner and then Jenna, Laurel, and I hung out with the boys. I'm not sure how helpful the Italian they taught us is since every phrase somehow led to some inappropriate comment we could make, but we do know how to say "cool". I think that's enough for me.
Well, Gianmarco and Rich went off to the discoteca, while Stevie and I stayed back and talked for two hours, utilizing all of his English vocabulary. I love language barriers. You just feel so accomplished when you understand each other. Or when you think you know what's going on.
The dudes left in the a.m. and we were early-risers for a fun-filled day in Barca. We did the double decker tour bus, stopped at Parc Guell, went to two cathedrals, saw La Sagrada Familia, the football stadium, the Olympic area, the Mediterranean Sea, several works by Gaudi, hit up the Picasso Museum, and at last escaped Hernan, our professor who believes that Spain is the center of the universe and believes that the mere fact that we are not of Spanish descent makes it impossible for us to ever come close to his royal status of a human being nor to his impecable level of natural intelligence. After all, none of us know the symbolism of a glass palace in the works of Mother Teresa, for example. Anyway, Parc Guell was breathtaking. I felt like a who in the land of Dr. Seuss. Also, I can't believe Picasso's most famous work can be recreated by a kindergardener when he has sketches that real art students would have trouble recreating.
Saturday was a tad bit rainy, but we made it up to the top of a house designed by Gaudi called Casa Milo. It was basically a scene from Star Wars on the top of the roof. The attic looked like the top of gothic style cathedrals, and then I sat in a curvy double chair I discovered later that was also made by Gaudi. It was incredible. Currently, administration of a bank functions on floors 2-6.
We then wandered the city in the pouring rain until we reached the Museu Nacional d'arte de Cataluna where we spent the afternoon. The view from the top of the museum on the top of the hill was amazing. Directly across on another hill was a cathedral and in between was a city-filled valley. My favorite artist was Joaquim Mir.
After pondering art for a couple of hours, Tiff, Jenna, Laurel, and I searched for some Magnums, but settled on buying some wine at the grocery store before heading to the Magic Fountain Show outside of the museum. Hello, Disney World! I may not have been in the most magical place on Earth, but it sure came close.
Laurel and I decided to walk La Rambla a bit and we went to the open market, while Jenna went to an Opera/Flamenco show at a mini-Broadway Palau de Musica. We had a lovely chat with a local working at the dry fruit/sweets stand. He began the conversation, "Hey, baby. Your legs are so sexy." I suppose that works on some young American college girls. I responded, "Hey." I was fairly certain Mad TV was close by with the way he kept raising his eyebrows, but apparently not. When we got back to the hotel after Maoz - deliciousness in a 10x10sq. ft. room - we took a quick siesta, which turned into a prenap before deciding to just go to bed for the rest of the night.
Sunday, the breakfast in the hotel did not disappoint again. The Ginger and I headed off down La Rambla, stopped at a Chocolate Museum and a closed Bagel Shop, until we reached an odd carnival/fair sponsored by an insurance company. Cristobal Colon - the statue - pointed us in the direction of the beach, and we plopped down and watched the surfers in their glory on the Mediterranean. They are absolutely the coolest group of people on this planet. I am completely and totally enthralled by them. After that we got some cafe con leche and went on a hunt for sushi. We were unsuccessful, but we did pass all 3 of the Maoz stores in Barcelona, and after gelatto we settled on falafel once again.
I passed out before the train even left the station and woke up in Madrid. Yesterday, we met up with Jonatan for coffee, and today Kristen and I started our internship tutoring English. Right.....
Now, time to dye Easter eggs for an early celebration. Hopefully, the buses are back on schedule since the King was here this morning.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Talvera probably would not have been as successful had it been "del Rey"
Pablito and Me in Toledo
Holy Toledo!
T to the Ledo
My Castle
Fishing in the Tajo in Talavera
Whoa dang
I'm in a bit of shock at my lack of blogging in the past 3 weeks. However, we'll get through this.
So after Justin came, Kelly came! Well, actually their trips overlapped. Jenna and I had the great joy of being in finals week, but Kelly, of course, had a full itinerary of museums and cultural events. She left just as much of a Spaniard as I will after having spent 4 months in this country.
I was so grateful to have Kelly here when I found out that I was accepted into the Maryland-Keele Exchange Program. She was just the support I needed. :) Turns out I'm going to England for the 2009-2010 school year. Fo free.
The day after finals we threw Javi a "Good luck in France with your woman even though you haven't told us you're leaving and it was Mariaje who let the cat out of the bag" party. Everyone brought food and chipped in for the cake. I thought the cake with Snow White and her Prince was most appropriate.
At the end of Kel's trip, Claire and Caroline made the trek down from London, and the 4 of us explored Madrid. We spent Kel's last night at Los Amigos Hostal and the name held true. We did in fact make some amigos. A cheery bunch of boys studying in Scotland were just down the hall and I can't say I didn't feel some pride for Madcity when I told them all the fun, free stuff to do during their stay.
We did the whole Kapital adventure Saturday night, we arrived home at 5:45a.m. and at 6a.m. Kel and I were out the door to the airport. When I got back I took a mini-siesta and then the CCC crowd headed to el Rastro, ate Magnums in a somewhat ghetto area of Madcity, and then went to Retiro. The line was too long for el Prado so I just acted out the artwork for them instead. I'd say it was a great success.
When we finally got in touch with our Scottish friends, we were able to pick up our bags, which we left in their room, and then we proceeded to spend the entire night in the airport. When I rolled into Resa the next morning I hadn't slept for 42 hours. I'm going with the idea that it's practice for when I'm a resident.
Next, on St. Patrick's Day we graduated! I've never seen such a big ceremony for 10 weeks of classes before. The whole ordeal was just precious. They called each of our names, Mariaje cried, we dos beso-d everyone, and took pictures with our diplomas. Afterward, Jenna, Laurel, Laurel's friends, Jonatan, and I went out to eat to celebrate. The celebration continued into the night when we went to Wheland's, one of the two bars in town actually celebrating what we discovered to be a mainly American fiesta.
The next day I decided to venture to Talavera de la Reina, Pablo's home. But not before first thinking it was a good idea to get a hair trim. Jenna and I went to the very Spanish, Marco Aldany, and when I asked for 2cm I got 6 inches, and when Jenna said her hair parts in the middle and won't stay to the side she simply got a "No." Note to self and to world - do not get your hair cut in Spain.
At Pabs', we celebrated Father's Day on Thursday and went to my first castle, Oropesa. I felt like a little medieval figurine. So the story goes that the princess who lived there was weighed against gold to determine the value of her kingdom. She didn't let her people down and her legend is simply that she was really really fat. Also, at one point, she got pregnant and to this day no one knows if it was by a royal dude, a knight guy, or a peasant who worked in the kitchen. I think food won her heart, but that's just me.
On Friday, we went to Toledo. It's gorgeous! It's exactly how I imagined Spain. The Tajo River flows through the city built on rolling hills and cliffs, and the cobbled roads weave through ancient buildings, cathedrals, and synagogues. The expression "Holy Toledo!" was born here due to the famous Cathedral. I made sure to say this a couple times throughout the day. We caught the train back to Talavera, famous for its ceramics, and went to my first Spanish concert. I had a ball, and I guess everyone else did, too. You wouldn't have been able to tell, though, because there wasn't more than a headbob going on.
Pablo's whole family was super kind, and his mom gave me a ceramic glass. Marta's mom also knitted me a poncho and sent it to me. That along with their amazing home cooking makes me feel very loved by the Spanish parents.
I got back Saturday night right in time to enjoy an excellent dinner with Sarah and Owen on Owen's last night. Then Sunday, Sarah, Evan, Jenna, and I went to Reina Sofia, which boosted my self-esteem in the art world, to Retiro, where I took my siesta, and then to this cool restaurant/cafe place I found that has really good nachos.
No school until DQ class felt amazing on Monday. Everyone played catch-up, and Tuesday would have felt just as great had I not been throwing up all Monday night/Tuesday morning. Why? Who knows? But if I was going to be sick one day I really could not have chosen a better day.
However, if I had to name the new most exciting event in my life it would be Lonely Island's release of "I'm on a boat." The possibilities for remakes are basically endless. Thank you, T-Pain, for always spreading joy.
So after Justin came, Kelly came! Well, actually their trips overlapped. Jenna and I had the great joy of being in finals week, but Kelly, of course, had a full itinerary of museums and cultural events. She left just as much of a Spaniard as I will after having spent 4 months in this country.
I was so grateful to have Kelly here when I found out that I was accepted into the Maryland-Keele Exchange Program. She was just the support I needed. :) Turns out I'm going to England for the 2009-2010 school year. Fo free.
The day after finals we threw Javi a "Good luck in France with your woman even though you haven't told us you're leaving and it was Mariaje who let the cat out of the bag" party. Everyone brought food and chipped in for the cake. I thought the cake with Snow White and her Prince was most appropriate.
At the end of Kel's trip, Claire and Caroline made the trek down from London, and the 4 of us explored Madrid. We spent Kel's last night at Los Amigos Hostal and the name held true. We did in fact make some amigos. A cheery bunch of boys studying in Scotland were just down the hall and I can't say I didn't feel some pride for Madcity when I told them all the fun, free stuff to do during their stay.
We did the whole Kapital adventure Saturday night, we arrived home at 5:45a.m. and at 6a.m. Kel and I were out the door to the airport. When I got back I took a mini-siesta and then the CCC crowd headed to el Rastro, ate Magnums in a somewhat ghetto area of Madcity, and then went to Retiro. The line was too long for el Prado so I just acted out the artwork for them instead. I'd say it was a great success.
When we finally got in touch with our Scottish friends, we were able to pick up our bags, which we left in their room, and then we proceeded to spend the entire night in the airport. When I rolled into Resa the next morning I hadn't slept for 42 hours. I'm going with the idea that it's practice for when I'm a resident.
Next, on St. Patrick's Day we graduated! I've never seen such a big ceremony for 10 weeks of classes before. The whole ordeal was just precious. They called each of our names, Mariaje cried, we dos beso-d everyone, and took pictures with our diplomas. Afterward, Jenna, Laurel, Laurel's friends, Jonatan, and I went out to eat to celebrate. The celebration continued into the night when we went to Wheland's, one of the two bars in town actually celebrating what we discovered to be a mainly American fiesta.
The next day I decided to venture to Talavera de la Reina, Pablo's home. But not before first thinking it was a good idea to get a hair trim. Jenna and I went to the very Spanish, Marco Aldany, and when I asked for 2cm I got 6 inches, and when Jenna said her hair parts in the middle and won't stay to the side she simply got a "No." Note to self and to world - do not get your hair cut in Spain.
At Pabs', we celebrated Father's Day on Thursday and went to my first castle, Oropesa. I felt like a little medieval figurine. So the story goes that the princess who lived there was weighed against gold to determine the value of her kingdom. She didn't let her people down and her legend is simply that she was really really fat. Also, at one point, she got pregnant and to this day no one knows if it was by a royal dude, a knight guy, or a peasant who worked in the kitchen. I think food won her heart, but that's just me.
On Friday, we went to Toledo. It's gorgeous! It's exactly how I imagined Spain. The Tajo River flows through the city built on rolling hills and cliffs, and the cobbled roads weave through ancient buildings, cathedrals, and synagogues. The expression "Holy Toledo!" was born here due to the famous Cathedral. I made sure to say this a couple times throughout the day. We caught the train back to Talavera, famous for its ceramics, and went to my first Spanish concert. I had a ball, and I guess everyone else did, too. You wouldn't have been able to tell, though, because there wasn't more than a headbob going on.
Pablo's whole family was super kind, and his mom gave me a ceramic glass. Marta's mom also knitted me a poncho and sent it to me. That along with their amazing home cooking makes me feel very loved by the Spanish parents.
I got back Saturday night right in time to enjoy an excellent dinner with Sarah and Owen on Owen's last night. Then Sunday, Sarah, Evan, Jenna, and I went to Reina Sofia, which boosted my self-esteem in the art world, to Retiro, where I took my siesta, and then to this cool restaurant/cafe place I found that has really good nachos.
No school until DQ class felt amazing on Monday. Everyone played catch-up, and Tuesday would have felt just as great had I not been throwing up all Monday night/Tuesday morning. Why? Who knows? But if I was going to be sick one day I really could not have chosen a better day.
However, if I had to name the new most exciting event in my life it would be Lonely Island's release of "I'm on a boat." The possibilities for remakes are basically endless. Thank you, T-Pain, for always spreading joy.
Saturday, March 7, 2009
Land of ENGlish
I'm selling this to Hallmark.
Me, Caroline, Claire - Triple C Unite
We're laughing, but I'm not sure why. Pain is not funny.
Palace
Just for you, T.I.
Hello, Tyra.
Brighton Pier
My future child. Again.
Lovely Homes of Brightness
London Eye is watchingggg us.
My house - Buckingham Palace.
Big Ol' Ben
Conrad! (And his women)
The Italians (hiding their white teeth)
The Rosetta Stone. I touched it.
You sound like you're from London!
Oh my how time is beginning to fly here. Well, I returned to the Mothaland aka England.
I arrived on the soil of my ancestors Wednesday night. In Madrid I met a girl, Axxel, world traveler from France, and a guy, Alvaro, from Marbella, Spain, but student of English schools since age 5 - quite deceiving. Well, the three of us were peas in a pod and talked the entire flight, exchanged info., and will probably take family vacations together one day.
When we landed I took the train with Alvaro and his girlfriend to London and then Claire and Caroline were waiting for me at the Tube stop. And it began.
Their flat is located in between the Sherlock Holmes Museum, where sometimes a customer may climb out of the kitchen window into their courtyard outside of their bedrooms, and the Volunteer, a pub/restaurant. We went to the Volunteer and ordered strawberry beer and nachos. Welcome to London - the land of better food.
Thursday the girls had class so I walked one block from their school to the British Museum. With no security, I thought I came in some secret entrance, but when I saw everyone taking pictures and hugging Egyptian ruins I realized that there was a tad more freedom here than in all other museums I have visited. I saw the Rosetta Stone and translated it twice for practice. Alright, I just thought about how cool it would've been if I just pretended to start reading it.
Sometime into my Museum excursion I was pondering a helmet for about three seconds when a 30-some-year-old man named Kyle came and started talking to me by looking at the helmet and saying, "You like that?" No, Kyle, I'm not actually a big fan of ancient headgear. But really I said, "This? Oh yeah." At the beginning of the conversation, he was from Egypt, and by the end he was from Ohio. He encouraged me to check out Cleveland's night life. It really wasn't odd that he was talking to me since every other person there was either a) on a field trip, b) really old, or c) foreign/non-English Speaking, usually Spanish. However, I decided it was best to inform dear Kyle that we cannot, in fact, be friends, because Michiganders do like people from Ohio.
Kyle- "Oh, that's just silly college rivalry stuff."
Caitlin - "Well, I don't actually think it's silly, because I'm still in college"
Kyle- "It's just with sports though not with all the people from the state. I mean here we're just Americans."
Caitlin- "I'm pretty sure it's with sports and all their fans, and I take it pretty seriously. Maybe if you weren't from Ohio, because there are a lot of Americans in London. Nice to meet you, Kyle, bye."
I saw him once more in the museum and although he really wanted to explore London together I had to sadly inform him that I had other college friends here who were surprising me with a very busy afternoon of adventure and I had no idea where I'd be.
After class, we headed to an Asian restaurant, Wagamama, to go over all that we'd planned to do that day. We did some shopping on Oxford Street and I continued exploring the city while they went to their night class. Caroline, future Top Chef of America, made dinner and then the three of us, Rachel, and Caroline's Turkish boi, Dameer, bounced off to O'Neill's - the best pub in the world.
On the Tube, we found it very amusing to speak about how we on tour with Wicked, or in a band called Metallic Ice, or how Eminem is my cousin. Or sometimes, while waiting for the trian, we'd just sing. I'm not sure how this started, but it made our experiences with public transportation rather exciting.
Then. On the walk to O'Neill's from the Tube stop - in some completely random place in London - I hear my name. I turn. Who is there, but my bosom buddy, Kyle. How do these things happen to me? We enjoyed one more amicable conversation and Claire, Caroline, and I decided that he would probably follow us for the rest of the weekend. If he did, he did not reveal himself again, but we probably would not have been surprised if he popped up at the oh -so-popular-and-famous Home of Holmes.
O'Neill's was glorious. I met my future husband, Conrad, the bouncer from South Africa. I met "my cousin", John, who works for Apple, some Italian boys from Rome - one who's teeth were especially white, Simon from New Zealand who was very friendly, 2 boys whom I gave "Eminem's cell phone number", and on the bus, 2 Kenyan men - one living in Norway and the other in London. Pretty much, I decided that English people are the kindest, most polite people in the world. And I love it.
Friday, we slept in a bit after our long adventure the night before. Then Caroline made breakfast and by the time I went outside it was London's rush hour. Caroline, Claire, Rachel, and I went to the London Eye, watched a romantic sunset over Big Ben and Buckingham Palace, and then headed to an Italian restaurant for dinner. When we left, we were nearly trampled by about 200 rioting, screaming teens. I asked a police officer what was going on and he replied, "Well, this may be rude of me to say, but I believe some teens organized a sort of chaotic event on Facebook."
Next, we went to a precious little pub to watch their friend, MJG, sing and play the guitar. He put on a great performance, and then it turned out that the guy I was sitting next to and chatting with was up next with his band. A true English band - they brought imo and rock and roll together with a perfect mix of tambourine, shouting, and acoustic melodies.
Saturday, we headed to Brighton - the seaside city known as a weekend getaway for affairs. We played MASH on the train - and great news! I'm marrying Prince Harry, but the adjective to describe him is dead. However, we did have 3 children, and at least he's not "lacking" like Claire's future husband. Caroline seems to be the lucky one - marrying Smeagol from Tesco (like 7/11), who, most likely by means of plastic surgery, is devastatingly handsome.
We ate the traditional English breakfast/feast when we arrived of toast, eggs, hash browns, veggie sausage, beans, and tomatoes. The unique shops lined the colorful streets and we decided it'd be best if we took "Top Model" shots when we felt especially inspired, such as in front of giant murals of graffiti. Also, the store names were rather entertaining. Our favorite was probably the historic Corn Exchange. Too bad we forgot to bring some.
Soon we found ourselves at a Palace. We were actually in the perfectly trimmed backyard of a palace, but eventually we found the front door. After pretending to debate whether or not we wanted to buy the guide with beautiful pictures of all the rooms inside to use on the tour inside, we decided to skip that little six euro excursion and headed to the beach. On the way we stopped into an art museum.
The Brighton Pier is an enchanting new world for those under ten, trippy for those rebellious English teens, a cheesy date for young lovers, and a casino for the elderly who like to race against five-year-old children dressed as Spiderman and beat them even though they could have won a giant 5-foot long shark stuffed-animal. For everyone else, the Pier is just kind of another creepy carnival. It was great.
The sun peeking through the clouds inspired us to try out the English Channel. When we entered the more-freezing-cold-than-ice water, a wave came, and we may have experienced symptoms of hypothermia in our legs. We laid down on the seashell pebbled beach to recover. We took a lot of awkward pictures where at least one of us had a double chin each time - but not on purpose. Then found a mall and after a long search, an Asian restaurant that didn't open for 10 minutes.
After dinner we went into a couple pubs and watched all the people watching an England v. Ireland rugby game yell and shout. It was the bullocks.
To end our lovely day trip we went to a cafe for a typical English dessert. The Irish waitress was super-super-nice and brought up the chef's recipe book from the kitchen for us to copy the recipe. Needless to say, I love England.
The day did not exhaust us enough to not celebrate our last evening at O'Neill's, of course. Conrad picked us up and spun us around and the night commenced. First, we met a ScoIrish guy, Chris, who lost a bet and had to wear a 10pound outfit from a thrift store. His red leather vest and flower blouse, I thought, brought out his eyes. Another Irish guy, after requesting us to rap, went off in a tizzy - most likely overwhelmed by our greatness. My "2nd cousin" was not so convinced of our blood relation and I ended our potentially life-long friendship running away saying, "I don't believe in incest." The dance floor was, as always, wonderfully crazy. We met a group of guys in the English Army, and Dan and I especially got along. Yet, after two Strongbows and however many his military kidneys can handle, we seemed to forget the whole exchange of last names, phone numbers, e-mails, etc. After a bit more dancing we decided to explore the first floor, where I met a 25-year-old French man named Stan who's opening a hospital in London. We hit it off and I even remembered my phone number when he asked so we could be bff's, but I also did not meet him outside for a smoke like I said I would, and thus, have only myself to blame for letting the relationship crumble. A close to teary goodbye with Conrad ended the O'Neill's outing and we hopped on the bus home. I spoke with a nice English gentleman accountant on the ride home.
We arrived to the flat at about 4am and as we enjoyed our Magnum ice cream - it's just delicious ice cream, it has no relation to other companies named Magnum - and then we realized that my bus for the airport would leave in an hour. I jumped in the shower, packed, and we looked up where the stop was and one minute after arriving the bus came. Perhaps this may have been a somewhat stressful situation but I was not exactly in the most sober state of mind. Cheap date? No, embarrassing. It was two beers for goodness sake.
I passed out on the bus and woke up when we were parked at the airport. I stumbled off, and having never changed my watch I thought it was an hour ahead. I ran inside, checked-in, and got stopped at security. Maybe I would have been embarrassed of the entire contents of my bag being spread out over a giant table, but at the moment I was moreso feeling entertained. Also, even the English security man was kind - asking me about how my trip was, what I did, if I'd like to come back. God bless him. So then I ran to the gate - the 3rd from last in the entire airport and it was deserted. I handed the man my boarding pass apologizing and he said, "Oh sweetie, you're plenty early. You've got a whole hour." I laughed, sat down in front of the desk, and passed out again. I woke when he announced, basically to me since I was alone at the gate, "Last call, London to Madrid." I jumped up, boarded, and passed out again, impressed by the long-lasting effects of Strongbow. I did not wake up until we were on the ground in Madrid, but I awoke sober and starving.
Marta and I met up at the airport, because she had gone home for the weekend, and we headed home. The rest of Sunday we all just hung out in Resa.
This whole past week was full of studying and paperwork. I applied for an exchange program in England for all of next year, wrote a six page paper on the love, social classes, and structure of the first half of "Don Quijote", and took my finals for History and Art History on Friday. It was a pretty normal week, besides Javier's craziness on Wednesday. He made Evan come into our class and show us the Soulja Boy dance and then had Stacie tell us about her love for Shakira. What he has yet to tell us is about how he's moving to France with his woman, but Mariaje did tell us and we planned a party for him next week. He also asked me how many times I would get married and I said six - 2 in Vegas.
Friday, Jenna and I made all of our train reservations for Spring Break and responded to our CouchSurfing friend, Marc in Zurich, to tell him that we will be able to make it to his End-of-Exams house party.
Today, we did some Spring cleaning, Jenna and I went to breakfast, and now Jenna's boyfriend, Justin, is here! Marta also made her plans to come to the States! So much excitement. Joder.
I arrived on the soil of my ancestors Wednesday night. In Madrid I met a girl, Axxel, world traveler from France, and a guy, Alvaro, from Marbella, Spain, but student of English schools since age 5 - quite deceiving. Well, the three of us were peas in a pod and talked the entire flight, exchanged info., and will probably take family vacations together one day.
When we landed I took the train with Alvaro and his girlfriend to London and then Claire and Caroline were waiting for me at the Tube stop. And it began.
Their flat is located in between the Sherlock Holmes Museum, where sometimes a customer may climb out of the kitchen window into their courtyard outside of their bedrooms, and the Volunteer, a pub/restaurant. We went to the Volunteer and ordered strawberry beer and nachos. Welcome to London - the land of better food.
Thursday the girls had class so I walked one block from their school to the British Museum. With no security, I thought I came in some secret entrance, but when I saw everyone taking pictures and hugging Egyptian ruins I realized that there was a tad more freedom here than in all other museums I have visited. I saw the Rosetta Stone and translated it twice for practice. Alright, I just thought about how cool it would've been if I just pretended to start reading it.
Sometime into my Museum excursion I was pondering a helmet for about three seconds when a 30-some-year-old man named Kyle came and started talking to me by looking at the helmet and saying, "You like that?" No, Kyle, I'm not actually a big fan of ancient headgear. But really I said, "This? Oh yeah." At the beginning of the conversation, he was from Egypt, and by the end he was from Ohio. He encouraged me to check out Cleveland's night life. It really wasn't odd that he was talking to me since every other person there was either a) on a field trip, b) really old, or c) foreign/non-English Speaking, usually Spanish. However, I decided it was best to inform dear Kyle that we cannot, in fact, be friends, because Michiganders do like people from Ohio.
Kyle- "Oh, that's just silly college rivalry stuff."
Caitlin - "Well, I don't actually think it's silly, because I'm still in college"
Kyle- "It's just with sports though not with all the people from the state. I mean here we're just Americans."
Caitlin- "I'm pretty sure it's with sports and all their fans, and I take it pretty seriously. Maybe if you weren't from Ohio, because there are a lot of Americans in London. Nice to meet you, Kyle, bye."
I saw him once more in the museum and although he really wanted to explore London together I had to sadly inform him that I had other college friends here who were surprising me with a very busy afternoon of adventure and I had no idea where I'd be.
After class, we headed to an Asian restaurant, Wagamama, to go over all that we'd planned to do that day. We did some shopping on Oxford Street and I continued exploring the city while they went to their night class. Caroline, future Top Chef of America, made dinner and then the three of us, Rachel, and Caroline's Turkish boi, Dameer, bounced off to O'Neill's - the best pub in the world.
On the Tube, we found it very amusing to speak about how we on tour with Wicked, or in a band called Metallic Ice, or how Eminem is my cousin. Or sometimes, while waiting for the trian, we'd just sing. I'm not sure how this started, but it made our experiences with public transportation rather exciting.
Then. On the walk to O'Neill's from the Tube stop - in some completely random place in London - I hear my name. I turn. Who is there, but my bosom buddy, Kyle. How do these things happen to me? We enjoyed one more amicable conversation and Claire, Caroline, and I decided that he would probably follow us for the rest of the weekend. If he did, he did not reveal himself again, but we probably would not have been surprised if he popped up at the oh -so-popular-and-famous Home of Holmes.
O'Neill's was glorious. I met my future husband, Conrad, the bouncer from South Africa. I met "my cousin", John, who works for Apple, some Italian boys from Rome - one who's teeth were especially white, Simon from New Zealand who was very friendly, 2 boys whom I gave "Eminem's cell phone number", and on the bus, 2 Kenyan men - one living in Norway and the other in London. Pretty much, I decided that English people are the kindest, most polite people in the world. And I love it.
Friday, we slept in a bit after our long adventure the night before. Then Caroline made breakfast and by the time I went outside it was London's rush hour. Caroline, Claire, Rachel, and I went to the London Eye, watched a romantic sunset over Big Ben and Buckingham Palace, and then headed to an Italian restaurant for dinner. When we left, we were nearly trampled by about 200 rioting, screaming teens. I asked a police officer what was going on and he replied, "Well, this may be rude of me to say, but I believe some teens organized a sort of chaotic event on Facebook."
Next, we went to a precious little pub to watch their friend, MJG, sing and play the guitar. He put on a great performance, and then it turned out that the guy I was sitting next to and chatting with was up next with his band. A true English band - they brought imo and rock and roll together with a perfect mix of tambourine, shouting, and acoustic melodies.
Saturday, we headed to Brighton - the seaside city known as a weekend getaway for affairs. We played MASH on the train - and great news! I'm marrying Prince Harry, but the adjective to describe him is dead. However, we did have 3 children, and at least he's not "lacking" like Claire's future husband. Caroline seems to be the lucky one - marrying Smeagol from Tesco (like 7/11), who, most likely by means of plastic surgery, is devastatingly handsome.
We ate the traditional English breakfast/feast when we arrived of toast, eggs, hash browns, veggie sausage, beans, and tomatoes. The unique shops lined the colorful streets and we decided it'd be best if we took "Top Model" shots when we felt especially inspired, such as in front of giant murals of graffiti. Also, the store names were rather entertaining. Our favorite was probably the historic Corn Exchange. Too bad we forgot to bring some.
Soon we found ourselves at a Palace. We were actually in the perfectly trimmed backyard of a palace, but eventually we found the front door. After pretending to debate whether or not we wanted to buy the guide with beautiful pictures of all the rooms inside to use on the tour inside, we decided to skip that little six euro excursion and headed to the beach. On the way we stopped into an art museum.
The Brighton Pier is an enchanting new world for those under ten, trippy for those rebellious English teens, a cheesy date for young lovers, and a casino for the elderly who like to race against five-year-old children dressed as Spiderman and beat them even though they could have won a giant 5-foot long shark stuffed-animal. For everyone else, the Pier is just kind of another creepy carnival. It was great.
The sun peeking through the clouds inspired us to try out the English Channel. When we entered the more-freezing-cold-than-ice water, a wave came, and we may have experienced symptoms of hypothermia in our legs. We laid down on the seashell pebbled beach to recover. We took a lot of awkward pictures where at least one of us had a double chin each time - but not on purpose. Then found a mall and after a long search, an Asian restaurant that didn't open for 10 minutes.
After dinner we went into a couple pubs and watched all the people watching an England v. Ireland rugby game yell and shout. It was the bullocks.
To end our lovely day trip we went to a cafe for a typical English dessert. The Irish waitress was super-super-nice and brought up the chef's recipe book from the kitchen for us to copy the recipe. Needless to say, I love England.
The day did not exhaust us enough to not celebrate our last evening at O'Neill's, of course. Conrad picked us up and spun us around and the night commenced. First, we met a ScoIrish guy, Chris, who lost a bet and had to wear a 10pound outfit from a thrift store. His red leather vest and flower blouse, I thought, brought out his eyes. Another Irish guy, after requesting us to rap, went off in a tizzy - most likely overwhelmed by our greatness. My "2nd cousin" was not so convinced of our blood relation and I ended our potentially life-long friendship running away saying, "I don't believe in incest." The dance floor was, as always, wonderfully crazy. We met a group of guys in the English Army, and Dan and I especially got along. Yet, after two Strongbows and however many his military kidneys can handle, we seemed to forget the whole exchange of last names, phone numbers, e-mails, etc. After a bit more dancing we decided to explore the first floor, where I met a 25-year-old French man named Stan who's opening a hospital in London. We hit it off and I even remembered my phone number when he asked so we could be bff's, but I also did not meet him outside for a smoke like I said I would, and thus, have only myself to blame for letting the relationship crumble. A close to teary goodbye with Conrad ended the O'Neill's outing and we hopped on the bus home. I spoke with a nice English gentleman accountant on the ride home.
We arrived to the flat at about 4am and as we enjoyed our Magnum ice cream - it's just delicious ice cream, it has no relation to other companies named Magnum - and then we realized that my bus for the airport would leave in an hour. I jumped in the shower, packed, and we looked up where the stop was and one minute after arriving the bus came. Perhaps this may have been a somewhat stressful situation but I was not exactly in the most sober state of mind. Cheap date? No, embarrassing. It was two beers for goodness sake.
I passed out on the bus and woke up when we were parked at the airport. I stumbled off, and having never changed my watch I thought it was an hour ahead. I ran inside, checked-in, and got stopped at security. Maybe I would have been embarrassed of the entire contents of my bag being spread out over a giant table, but at the moment I was moreso feeling entertained. Also, even the English security man was kind - asking me about how my trip was, what I did, if I'd like to come back. God bless him. So then I ran to the gate - the 3rd from last in the entire airport and it was deserted. I handed the man my boarding pass apologizing and he said, "Oh sweetie, you're plenty early. You've got a whole hour." I laughed, sat down in front of the desk, and passed out again. I woke when he announced, basically to me since I was alone at the gate, "Last call, London to Madrid." I jumped up, boarded, and passed out again, impressed by the long-lasting effects of Strongbow. I did not wake up until we were on the ground in Madrid, but I awoke sober and starving.
Marta and I met up at the airport, because she had gone home for the weekend, and we headed home. The rest of Sunday we all just hung out in Resa.
This whole past week was full of studying and paperwork. I applied for an exchange program in England for all of next year, wrote a six page paper on the love, social classes, and structure of the first half of "Don Quijote", and took my finals for History and Art History on Friday. It was a pretty normal week, besides Javier's craziness on Wednesday. He made Evan come into our class and show us the Soulja Boy dance and then had Stacie tell us about her love for Shakira. What he has yet to tell us is about how he's moving to France with his woman, but Mariaje did tell us and we planned a party for him next week. He also asked me how many times I would get married and I said six - 2 in Vegas.
Friday, Jenna and I made all of our train reservations for Spring Break and responded to our CouchSurfing friend, Marc in Zurich, to tell him that we will be able to make it to his End-of-Exams house party.
Today, we did some Spring cleaning, Jenna and I went to breakfast, and now Jenna's boyfriend, Justin, is here! Marta also made her plans to come to the States! So much excitement. Joder.
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