Arg

So all I've done these last few weeks is basically read, go to the library, where I read, then return home, where I read and watch Robin Hood. Here is a run down of the highlights of my life, but first. WHAT HAPPENED WITH THE TANDOM PARTERNE!!!!! I need to know.

1. I visited Alison and Lauren. That was basically the best part of my entire semester. I was so happy to see you both and be cold and drink lots of vin chaud and spend like 48 hours and a Christmas market and still not buy anything. By the way, that cold that I caught, still not really gone. I am pretty sure that I have pneumonia. There was of course the Assassination museum, which was fun. No Zhao, it was not a museum about assassins, but rather it was the Alsaceian museum but I couldn't understand Alison when she said that, and I was like 'Well Alison that seems interesting...but I'm not really into assassination anymore...oh, the Alsacian museum...I feel stupid...let me detract attention from my stupidness...oh i can't do that because it is so obvious."

Here is a brief rundown for Zhao of my disasteroust trip home which pretty much killed.

5pm Leave Alison and Lauren at tram stop
5:40pm arrive bus stop
6 take bus to airport
6:30 Sit down to wait for plane having cleared security and proceed to read.
6:30 awkwardly ask guard what is up with flight. "it will leave soon, there will be an annonce"
6:50 Ask Air France woman what is up. Oh, your flight is annulle. What! Come with me.
6:55. Am distressed and switch to English. Oh, did no one tell you about zee flight? Non- looks pathetic. Ok zis is what we do, we fly you to De Gaulle, and you try to fly out of there. If not, you fly out tomorrow at 7:30 am and you go to class. This is good? Can I sleep in the airport. Pause...no, we give you hotel room. *I fall in love with France* Oh, oh, that is great. Yes.
7:50- Plane to De Gaulle is not ready to leave yet
8:30 Plane to degaulle leaves
10pm Plane arrives, other plane is gone must stay in Paris Airport Hotel. Am given directsion by man who is very kind and speaks to me in English and then looks at me like i didn't understand him.
10.30 Take airport metro to hotel
10:35 Cannot find hotel, is dark out, foreign land.
10:40 Find hotel. Check in in French, am very proud of myself.
10:45 Get chcange from sandwhich lady to call family because mobile is dead. Telephone eats 2 euros before can get to work. Am perturbed.
10:50 inform mother of existance, she is satisfied.
11pm attempt to go to bed. instead watch les nouvelles and set alarm for 5:30 am
12:30is actaully fall asleesp
5:20 am awaken because apparently 5:30 means 5:20 to the hotel.
5:22 Shower
5:45 Eat free breakfast and then am questioned for coupon, wonder if there are many people that sneek into the Ibis CDG to eat free breakfasts at 5:45.
6:10 leave for airport.
6:20 arrive airport
6:40 go through security and have awkard exchange with guard as cannot understand his accent.
6:45 sit down and wait for plane.
6:55 plane is annullee. FRACKING FRACKING FRACK.
7:00 find out that there is no crew for plane
7:30 get through line of angry people to speak to french woman who tells me that i cannot get on the 8am flight...or the 9am flight, but I can get on the 10 am flight.
10 am the call us to board flight. Oh, there is no one to refuel...and no buses.
10:30 get to plane
10:47 plane leaves
1020 London time Arrive.
11am clear security in london and head to tube
12:15 arrive lse 10 minutes late for my class, having missed by 10 am lecture.
class class class. 4:45 pm return home and do homework and die.
The End.

This was a painful experience to relive this, more later.

(Private) Service Announcement

I changed the blog to a private setting, as I've just now realized that you can add people to a "reading" list, as opposed to being completely shut off except for we three. No one is added at the moment, but let me know if you have a special someone who desperately wants to read of our enchanting (mis)adventures.

Also, my tandem partner invited me to his house in Lyon next weekend. What am I supposed to say?!

A day like any other...

Happy Thanksgiving, my compatriots! Here I have a brief ex-pat holiday checklist:

Turkey? No
Chicken that has been re-labeled by my father using a scrap of paper as a 'turkey'? Check
Sweet potatoes? No
Miniature sweet potatos because normal-sized ones are not to be found? Check
Brown sugar? No
"Brown" sugar? Check
Cranberry sauce imported from the States via my mother's suitcase? Check
Access to a live broadcast of this year's Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade? No
Access to an internet recording of last year's Macy's Parade? Check
Poor-quality internet streaming of It's a Wonderful Life? Check

I hope you are both enjoying turkeys and stuffing and Pilgrim-joy, or some similar substitutes should the situation arise. Now I would like to take a brief moment to tell a story of what transpired today, and also to demonstrate Why I Am Thankful for the American Higher Education System, Despite Its Fair Share of Flaws --

Unfortunately I had a class today that most distressingly disrupted my planned festivities with my family; my history class is from 4 until 6:30, right smack in the middle of our usual late-lunch / early-dinner eating period on holidays. Alas, I needed to go, as my strict academic professor takes attendance. So I puttered off on my bike at 3:45, having stuffed my gullet full of our small Thanksgiving dinner.

I arrived at the Palais Universitaire at 4:55, only to find a large crowd standing outside the steps of the front entrance. Confused, and wondering why that many people felt such a strong urge for a smoke break in the drizzly, damp weather, I walked through the crowd to the doors, only to discover -- they were locked. All of them. And there was a large crowd of students on the other side, stuck inside the building.

Guess who I saw, finally, after three weeks? Lauren! On the other side of the door! Stuck inside the building after her class got out! We mimed things through the door (it took me five minutes to convey "Happy Thanksgiving" to her), before Matt, another student in my class, showed up. We stood there aimlessly for about ten minutes, during which time I was handed a flier about the Loi LPU -- against the privatization of universities that the French government has proposed and that the students are protesting.

Our time was spent thinking, "Should we go? How long will this last? How long has it been going on? No one seems to be demonstrating anything? Did they really just lock all those people in the building? Our professor is probably still holding class. Tanks bulldozing the building wouldn't stop him. What do we do, we poor clueless foreigners? We are not a part of this!"

Finally Lauren called me, to tell me that she had escaped the building via a back door. We then walked around the building, practically SNUCK INSIDE through a door that a few other students were using, and walked up to our class, thirty minutes late. The professor made no remark, and a few students continued to trickle in as the minutes went by.

Just thirty minutes of lecturing later, an alarm all of a sudden sounded throughout the entire building. The French students groaned and began packing their stuff up. ("What's happening?!" my internal monologue pleaded.) One French student was explaining to someone else in our class that the alarm was set off by a student as a protest, or maybe to signal that they're going to start protesting. Or maybe it was the administration calling out, "Flee! Save yourselves!" The professor also began packing up his projector and computer, and said "Next week." We all left class. The bell was still ringing. We walked through the front doors (some student was holding them open for the exodus of students), where someone tried to give me another flier.

I decided to come home before I got locked in the building, an innocent bystander trapped in the crossfires of crazy student protesting. As I biked away, I saw police vehicles parked along the sidewalk, the policemen watching the students amassed in front of the building.

I think I'll go eat some more sweet potato soufflé.

Observations and general thoughts

I am freezing right now. Why you may ask? Because the Brits only let you keep your heater on for two hours in order to be environmentally friendly. Screw the environment. I've been sick since I got here and it is probably because I can't regulate my internal temperature. Oh joy. I also sleep with two blankets and a sleeping bag and I freeze to death, well almost, every night. I really can't convey how cold it is, but no one seems as bad off as I am; DC has taken my Ohio heartiness away.

Anyway, I have just finished all my papers for my classes (round 1 of 2), I think they weren't unmitigated disasters but they were done in my usual, oh it is fine to write it the night before style, so we shall see how they turn out. You both know that is my fatal flaw. I barely got any sleep the night before they were due because I got up extremely early to finish them. I was of course distracted by episodes of Full House, but I was able to ration myself by the end. Alison, have you finished yet? Isn't it amazing. Damn you Zhao, why did you get me addicted, I have little self control.

I have a rather uneventful social calendar, but last weekend,I went to a pub with a couple other georgetown kids and I baked cookies to get me into the good graces of the bar staff, which I did. We went out with three of them after the pub closed, so that was fun. Saturday morning a week ago I went to Borough Market, which is amazing. Anything food related that you could possible what is there, and it is so fresh and probably organic. I bought walnut bread and cheese that had apricot pieces in it and a mushroom pate which was beautiful tasting. I don't know if something can taste beautiful, but this would if it were possible. They guy that sold us bread was American and he told us the one place in London to buy Luck Charms, however aside from being really far away they will also cost 12 pounds a box, that is $24, and as much as I love processed sugar, I'm not that into them.

What else? I tried to bake brownies for my flatmate's birthday, but British ovens, or maybe just mine, heat from the sides and not form the top, so it was rather difficult to gage what was and was not done and it took me like an hour to make them, but they were heartily enjoyed by my flatmates along with some tea. Actually, we turned it into a Brownie cake, because I had wanted to bake a real cake, but the Brits dont' sell cake mix. I mean really, I've looked, I went to three stores, nothing. So I had to make do with that, which was part of the reason the whole process was ridicules.

Hum, what else. My arabic class is like a joke, my teacher last year would flip out if these people did what they do here in her class. You can't take five minutes to answer a question, there is no stalling, blah.

Oh, I just had fish and chips for dinner tonight for the first time. It was pretty good. I was tired after walking around all day, I went to the Tate modern and looked at art, and I wanted to go to this pub in Borough Market, but it was jam packed full of people, and I just didn't want to deal with that, so I found another one a little more out of the way that looked pretty reputable.

I really miss being able ot play the piano. That is killing me right now. Other than that I'm well. Zhao, I want an email or a post or something. Ali, I will see you in a week. That hotel you recommended looks fine and I will probably stay there...or on the street, whatever.
Miss you both,
Elle

Bar-th-elona

Hola amigas! I am somehow back from Spain unscathed, at least physically. How to describe Barcelona? To summarize my weekend to Spain, I have composed the following limerick for your amusement --

Last weekend I met several Spaniards
who more than lived up to my standards.
Sangria was imbibed
to enjoy the good times,
with laughter and tapas for all.

Okay, so that last line doesn't really work. But anyway, getting to Barcelona in the first place was quite an undertaking -- I biked to the tram station, took the tram to the train station (where I met my traveling companions, two Irish students from Dublin), took the train to Basel, took a bus from the train station to the airport, flew to Girona via Ryanair, took a bus from Girona to Barcelona, then the metro to our hostel. Amazingly, we executed all of these transitions flawlessly.

 Barcelona is a riot of colors -- the market Boqueria sums it up quite nicely. It's full of street performers all lining the huge boulevard Las Ramblas, stalls are thrown up at random points, people are everywhere, and lining the streets is some of the most brilliant architecture I have ever seen. I want a Gaudi house for myself, please.

I used my rusty Spanish several times, including at a night club called Razzmatazz (greatest name ever). I didn't quite adopt to Spanish customs in one weekend -- we three were the only ones in the restaurants eating at 7:30 each night -- although I did try a bit, such as the habit of staying out until six in the morning. I don't know how one makes a lifestyle habit out of that without dying, however.

Also, there are Dunkin' Donuts in Spain -- only called Dunkin' Coffee. Yum. (I mean, I of course only had authentic Spanish and Catalan cuisine while there.)

P.S. -- Eleanor, I await your fair presence in the Hexagon with a great deal of impatience!

Roadtrip part 3 : Buddha and pestilence

Ok: Hungary. I feel like we should have gotten the hint when we were turned around at one of the Austria-Hungary border crossings. It was completely deserted, except for some army vehicles off the road. We pulled up to the douane, and asked the man there if we could get our passports stamped. "Where are you from?" he asked. "Canada, the States, England, and Cyprus," we chorused. "No. This border is only for Austrians and Hungarians. Go back to the main highway."

We then waited at the main border crossing in the Non-EU line for about twenty minutes, as three cars ahead of us slowly progressed into the country. The EU line, despite having more cars, was passing by us at a rate of 5 EU cars : 1 non-EU car. However, we finally made it into the new country, and drove through the rolling, fog-shrouded hills of Hungary. We got to Budapest about two hours later, and of course got lost trying to find our hostel -- repeat: run to a hotel, get free map, finally get to hostel.

 Anyway, the city of Budapest is made up of the two halves Buda and Pest, which of course were then subjected to many jokes on our part. (The picture to the right is Pest, from Buda). We did the whole tourist thing: Parliament, 1956 Memorials, castles, churches (one included a mummified hand! it was all blinged out with jewels!). At times it didn't really feel like Central Europe, not even with the impossible street signs and metro stops I didn't even begin to know how to pronounce, being completely unfamiliar with Slavic languages. And then suddenly it would strike me -- like when we first saw the monument to the 1956 Revolutionists massacred when protesting Soviet occupation.

Budapest is also not as cheap as one would imagine. Shopping proved to be a rather disappointing affair; clothes were too ugly or too expensive but usually both, and most of the stores were sex shops anyway. In fact, the only thing that was cheap was food -- we had our first "real" meal of the week at a rather swanky restaurant. Three course meals for less than 15 euros each -- I felt giddy with nutrients. Especially considering that at our hostel, three pieces of bread and tepid coffee constituted breakfast. Also at dinner, being loud and rambunctious anglophones, we didn't heed the fact that everyone could understand us and had rather inappropriate and loud conversations. Two Belgians were distinctly eavesdropping on us the entire evening.

However, although Budapest was interesting enough, I was not upset to leave. For one thing, I felt very unsafe there. The streets were incredibly poorly lit at night, and coupled with the deserted feel of the city after dark, it gave off an ominous feeling. I feel like I missed a side of Budapest that you have to dig to get to, or that requires knowing someone who is familiar with the city.

However -- there was a problem with our leaving. We decided to make a small detour on the road home, but the misery that is Györ and Munich shall wait, my friends.

Lalalala

A link everyone should click on:
http://www.youtube.com/profile?user=GUHarmony

Rangila is this weekend and j'ai appris le subjonctif. How exciting!

Roadtrip part 2 : My Viennese Waltz

I shall resume roughly where we last left off : hurtling at dangerous speeds through the darkened Alps. We made it safely to Vienna, only to be lost in the twisting city streets; we pulled over at a gas station where a very kind Austrian man let us use his GPS to find our hostel. The hostel was, by the way, on top of a small mountain (what the Austrians call "a hill") and far, far away from the city. We chose it because of its parking for our precious Audi. We missed the hostel twice driving on the street, because it is hidden behind a palace (also known as a very expensive hotel) -- at first I was frightened that I had completely messed up the booking and put us in some overpriced gala. ("I swear it said only 20 euros a night!") It turned out our hostel is pretty much the servants' quarters of the place.

Anyway, we relaxed that night with beer and chips (not fries, Eleanor, in case the Brits have gotten to you with their lingo) before nodding off to sleep. We started off our day in Vienna by buying tickets to a concert from someone dressed in a Mozart-period costume -- the Viennese have a distinct talent for exploiting Mozart, and I love it. We then meandered around and ended up watching the Jugendstil Ankeruhr (a glockenspiel) at noon as twelve figures paraded past. Being as we were in Vienna, a café was absolutely necessary, so we decided to go all-out and splurge at Café Central, a café that boasts of patrons such as Beethoven, Freud and Trotsky. There I ordered a 6 euro Café Amadeus and an apple strudel, and planned a revolution.

Afterwards, we wondered about to famous places, like an old jousting square (of course I reenacted a jousting game with the help of a friend), and several churches, one of which had a very disturbing monument to the plague near it. We also spent a pleasant fifteen minutes watching Austrian street performers break dance and shout in English ("Show time!").

We also visited the Hapsburg's winter palace, but it required an entrance fee so we just stood there. We went across town to our concert, which was lovely -- it is said that even mediocre concerts in Vienna are above average, and I would not consider this mediocre at all. Then, since it was Halloween, we spent our time in an area known as Bermuda Triangle, where there are a large amount of bars within twenty paces.

That night, because we are poor students surviving via car in Central Europe, we forewent any hostel fees by sleeping in the car. Yes, that's right. We returned to the hostel parking lot, got out our sleeping bags, and piled into the Audi for the night; the woods were our bathroom. I'm sure we must have looked quite a sight to people the next morning, with the windows completely fogged up, leaving only a jumble of heads and limbs in odd positions all over the place. Anyway, we then sneaked back into the hostel and stole breakfast (as well as lunch) from them -- I think it perfectly justified as the breakfast was terrible for a 20-euro fee. It tasted wonderful when it was free, however. We also stole their washrooms to try and make ourselves look like we hadn't spent the evening drinking and then sleeping in a car.

 We then trekked through the city to find the Hapsburg's summer palace, which again required money. We instead rambled through the gardens. We finished our time in Vienna at Zentralfriedhof where we found the graves of Beethoven, Brahms, Schubert and Strauss. (Right = church at Karlsplatz)

We then regained the car and navigated our way through the city back to the autobahn. (By the way, while we were still in Vienna, stopped at a red light, I saw some strange guy on the corner of the sidewalk opposite. I watched, horrified, as he stood there, stuck his hands in his pants and unzipped, pulled out a clear plastic bottle, and peed into it. He then rezipped, readjusted, and continued standing there, not even having attempted to hide himself from any cars or pedestrians.) Next stop : Budapest.

à +
Alison

Roadtrip part 1 : Liechtenstein is small

Comrades,

I have once again resettled myself in my Strasbourg home after a rather surreal voyage, which will take me quite a while to recount to you, my enraptured audience. I was originally planning to go to Italy with three other friends for our week-long vacation, yet when we commenced searching for tickets, everything was far too expensive. As such, Aida suggested a road trip -- and some road maps later, we had planned it out ... more or less.

Firstly, because Germany is a great deal cheaper and more convenient for car rental, we rented our car from Baden-Baden, a short train ride from Strasbourg. Our car was an Audi A3 (yes, that's right -- I traveled through Europe in an Audi). After a period of five minutes trying to find out how to reverse the car, we then proceeded to get lost for another fifteen minutes. But then we were soon stretching our legs -- metaphorically speaking -- through the German autumn countryside.

Our first stop was the principality of Liechtenstein, home of the smallest German monarch in the world. Why Liechtenstein? Well, simply because we liked the name of it. We wanted to simply pull over in the first town we came to, Schaan, but while looking for a parking spot, we ended up in the capital of Vaduz. If that doesn't show how small the country is, nothing does. Typical Liechtenstein.

Next we made all possible haste to our next destination, Salzburg. However, apparently the sun sets at 5 o'clock in the territories of the Alps. As such, we were hurtling along to our destination in a shroud of black and a bit of gray thrown in at times, twisting and curving around sudden turns with absolutely no road lights. May I also state how much I dislike the highways of Europe? Granted, the autobahn can be superb, as when Kira reached driving speeds of 200 km/h (roughly 124 mph); however, there are absolutely no exit numbers, which can be quite confusing when you end up circling a city for an hour as you don't actually know which exit takes you to the actual city (but more stories of Munich to come). And in addition, the lack of lighting even in metro areas is rather disconcerting.

 We arrived in Salzburg, got lost a bit more, then pulled over at a hotel to ask for directions to our hostel (this becomes a pattern on this trip, as you shall see). We stayed in a hostel that plays The Sound of Music 24/7 to celebrate the influence of the city on the musical (I feel quite bad for the receptionist). As such, we spent our day in Salzburg tracing the steps of that splendid Rogers & Hammerstein jewel, as well as the path of the brilliance that is Mozart, who was born in Salzburg. Some sites included the garden with the famous Do Rei Mi fountain, which is the same garden where Mozart came up with the idea for The Magic Flute; there was also the convent where Maria was a novice; Mozart's birthplace, which is now a museum; and churches that had nothing to do with neither, but traveling any European country necessitates a lot of church-viewing. And despite a steady drizzle of rain (which, to throw some random trivia at you, frequently halted the filming of the Julie Andrews film), Salzburg is a rather lovely place.

Later that day, we continued onwards to Vienna, or Wien as the signs say -- good thing I read that on maps first or I would have been very confused. Though this shall be further detailed in my next segment -- stay tuned!

Miss you both --
Alison

As if you needed more proof...

Today provides yet another example of my unceasing incompetence in foreign countries. I went with a fellow American whom I met at my ultimate class (yes, I take a frisbee class on Thursday nights. I like to pride myself that I am one of the better pupils) to play disc golf with our funky hippie coach and two Czechs. The field was located in a far-away land, accessible by a bike ride, tram ride and bus ride all in a row (though not as far as Baltimore, Shelly, especially as Frank did not provide directions). However, the journey took longer than the thirty minutes predicted. We hopped off of the tram onto the number 13 bus, as instructed by our directions. After fifteen minutes on the bus, though, and with no sign of our stop (which hadn't seemed quite so far on the map), I approached the conductor --

"Excusez-moi, monsieur, est-ce qu'on a déjà passé l'arrêt 'Nid de Cigognes'?"
"Ah, oui... depuis longtemps."

He then told me, chuckling, that it would just be best for us to stay on the bus to the end of the line and come back with him on the return. So what was to be a two-minutes bus ride changed into one of thirty minutes. He chuckled some more as we got off of his bus, finally.

Oh and then on the return bus ride, I couldn't find my aller-retour ticket and spent five minutes frantically searching in my backpack to avoid paying an extra euro and thirty centimes. This is a rather pointless story, but I thought I should say something before I went off for a week on vacation (I've rented a car and sort-of sketched out some routes east...).

I'm a disc golf prodigy, though. Okay... not really.

Amitiés,
Alison

The perils of bars (pubs that is)

So, I like baseball. Big revelation, I know. And as you might know, you being Alison because Shelly probably would not, my beloved indians were in the playoffs. I say were because sadly the evil that is Boston has eliminated them, enough on such sad ponderances....

Anyway, I wanted to go watch them play, ie go to a pub and watch on a screen. So I did a little digging and found a place called 'Cheers' a la tv series from the 80's. And then I found a girl from Cleveland, or rather fate found her for me as she is in the anthro department and from Cleveland, her name is Anita she is very nice fyi.

After negotiating times and locations and sketchy cabs, we finally arrive at Cheers a week ago Tuesday. We pay the cover charge, wtf there is a covercharge i say to myself as I hand over a fiver, and enter the mysterious and poorly lit building. It is not sketchy in the I think we are going to die here kind of way a la five points flower shops. It is however sketchy for the following reasons. 1.) It is an American type of bar, with no americans, as evidenced by the fact Anita and I will be the only people watching the game. I find this odd. 2) There are Brits in their late 30's who have decided that this ridiculas hole in the wall is a great place to dance, there is a dance floor by the way. It plays a lot of american rap, some classics from the 80's and of course, beautiful pop music from the 90's i had thought (and hoped) never to hear again. But hear it I did. They also enjoy consuming alcohol and then taking a lighter and lighting their mouths on fire. Ok, this was only one guy but he did it around 15 times in a period of less than and hour, and that includes the time he almost blinded me with the awkardness of his dancing.

However, the most wonderfully sketchy part of the evening: Moldavians.

That's right there are really people from Moldovia, and I met them, and they were AWKWARD.

Here's the story:

So the game is just starting and Anita pulls out her camera to take a picture, because, you know, we are obsessed. Under the TV which is situated in the corner of the bar sit a group of 4 men, two of who are around 40, one near 30 and another I would say is about 24ish. They get very excited and then take a picture of us after we have 'taken a picture of them'. Two of them then come over to us and find out what we are doing. We attempt, several times to make it clear we are taking a picture of the TV- i do this rather vehemntly because their leather jackets make me feel maybe they are in the mob and i'm going to get in a lot of trouble for that picture- and after around 2 minutes of that, they start telling us about themselves, how they like America, and how nice london is.

Here is what I remember of what one of them, let us call him Marco, though that was not his name but I feel that he acted like a marco.
() Anita or me talking
- indicates me or Anita echoing what the other has just said in an attempt to get them to leave so we can watch the game.
** are thoughts.
[gestures]
anything else is marco.


"You are from America. (Yes. -Yes.). I love America. Where are you from. (Cleveland-Cleveland, that is why we are watchcing the game.[point at screen]). Oh, where is that? (In the middle). Oh. What is the best place in America to go on vacation. (Uh...florida. -Yes, florida.) so why are you here. (To watch the game. [Point at screen again with much movement of hand so as to draw line between TV and hand]) What? (We are students here). Oh, that is good. Where are your boyfriends. (*shit-think of something* They are at Sports Cafe because they watned to watch Rugby. They will be here later. *covertly gets out phone under table and texts friend at sports cafe to ask if he will come to cheers.* Oh. How do you like london. (It is very nice, very busy but very cosmopolitan.) {Side Note: The moldovian liked this word, i think that he had probably had this as a vocab word in english and it had a special meaning for him, because very time i said it, he got very excited.} Yes, it is very cosmopolitan. You can get really good indian food here. If you go to the Indian section, it is just like being in India. (*I doubt he has ever been to India*) [To Anita who is Indian] You should go; you will feel right at home. (*Anita is in my mind as American as they come, and pretty far from the Indians who have just emmigrated to the UK as she dresses as nice as Lauren and will be much more comfortable with me I'm pretty sure than random people from the same country as her ancestors*) So why were you taking a picture of us? (We weren't we were taking a picture of the game. [point at screen again].) What? (The game, we came to watch THE-GAME. [point point].) Oh, you like this. [he points ans is confused]. (We are from that town.) Which town? (Cleveland). There? [points at screen]. (Yes-Yes. *Jesus, Mary and Joseph*) Oh. We thought you take picture of us. (No, we like THE-TEAM.) Oh. My brother is a famous wrestler in Moldovia, he is going to the Olympics. You have wrestling in America, but i think you call it something else. (*WE HAVE WRESTLING IN AMERICA. WE CALL IT WRESTING. YOU ARE POSSIBLE THINKING OF WWE RAW. I AM NOT GOING TO CORRECT YOU. I AM GOING TO SHAKE MY HEAD AND HOPE YOU GO AWAY. YOU MADE ME MISS GRADY SIZEMORE BAT. YOU ARE DEAD TO ME.*) (Uh ha). He is going to become a UK citizen because they want to win a lot of metals in the Olympics in 2012. (Oh, how interesting). He is still deciding what to do. (*maybe you should decide to go away and help your brother find girls somewhere else*) (Yeah, it can be hard to leave your country.) (Yes, we are trying to show him the town so he will like it here. (Oh, that is very nice.) Yes.

Somehow or other he left.

There was more to this, I just can't remember. I'm pretty sure I blocked it out. It was really really, like a 9 on the awkwarmeter, so-so-so awkward.

Bisous,
Eleanor

Oxford, the perils of boots and other comments...

So last Sunday I went to Oxford to visit Jessica Ly who is studying art history there.
Firstly, this was not the best idea as I was still marvelously ill. However, I had already forked out 8 pounds, where is the pounds sign on a keyboard by the way, for my billets so I felt compelled to go not only by my promise but also because national rail already had my money. So off I went.

I boarded the train at Paddington station having taken the tube at 9 for my 9:42 train. I was slightly worried that I would not make it on time, but I arrived at the station at 9:30 and proceeded to one of those self-help ticket counters to get my tickets. Alas, they would not ready my American debit card so I rush over to the real person line and there is like a queue of around 10 people. Frack, I silently exclaim, I am never going to make it. However, the marvel of Britain is that their queues move really fast. So I did in fact make it to a person in time, though she looked at me rather skeptically when I said the machine would not read my card, as if I was somehow trying to cheat First Great Western by using a real person to get my ticket. I did finally get my tickets, there are two per journey, and rush on to the train which then left around 3 minutes later, whew. I then asked someone if I could sit in any seat, as there was an assignment rather crypicially written on one of my tickets for the journey, but she replied no, so I just threw myself into a window seat and watched the train station move away, or rather, us move away from it. Eventually we cleared the post-industrial society sector that is London's outskirts and I got to seem some hills and sheep and this made me very happy.

On the train I watched people, my favo(u)rite past time here, as well as the indigenous flora and fauna out of the window. The highlight was a rather attractive man with dark brown curly hair who seemed as annoyed by the gangle of high-schoolers who talked incessantly for 40 minutes as I was. He unfortunately got off at Maidenhead and not at Oxford, so alas I could only stare out the window for the last hour. I did get asked directions while on the train by a couple of Europeans, nationality unknown as I couldn't understand their language but it seemed European. They wanted to go to Windsor and didn't speak much English and I tried to make it clear that I thought they were on the wrong train and they quickly got off at the next station. I was, of course, rather disappointed that I couldn't tell them which train they needed to be on so I will have to study up on the rail system for future occurrences.

Oxford is rather charming and a lot nicer than I remember it from 2001 when I was first there. The buildings are old and charming, the streets twisted making you think it would be impossible to lay siege to this town as you would get lost or end up where you started inadvertently, and I had a great time wandering around with Jessica and then on my own while she went to choir practice. I did sort of my own circuit tour of the city, doubling back every now and then so I wouldn't get lost because I didn't have a map, but Oxford isn't really that big. If I go back again, I think that I will go on a tour of Christ's College which is this massive and beautiful complex of buildings that exudes academia in a sort of glow from the stone buildings. I also got to eat in the dining hall of St. Catherine's College, which is like a 60's version of the Great Hall and there for amazing and then later Chinese food in an Oxford dorm. Pretty awesome. The train ride back was uneventful except I was happy to sit down as I had been walking for like 5 hours that day and then I returned to my room after another tube ride and a short walk and proceeded to collapse into my bed where I stayed until class the next day.

This damn illness procedes however. I stopped taking the sort of medecine I was taking becuase I am stupid so I still have a bit of a cough even now. This is not helped by the fact that I like to walk home from school in the evenings, which are rather cool temperature wise, and this brings me to my second point. Do not ware boots to school. I make this mistake frequently. I don't like to look like a slob and an american so that means no tennis shoes/sneakers/trainers. So I ware boots, I also have loafers, but that is another story. However, it is a 2.2 mile walk back from LSE to my dorm and my feet hurt after like a mile. However, the walk back is very nice ie picturesque. I try to take a different route every day so I get to know the city's ins and outs. My favorite is to walk back from LSE down fleet street which is right in the heart of the legal sector and then walk over the pedestrian bridge at St. Paul's and walk along the river to Borough High Street by London Bridge and then down to Great Dover Street and to my dorm. The streets are cobbled sort of at the end, another reason why boots are a giant 'no' for this journey.

Alas, I have a paper due monday which I must start, so wish me luck. I shall try to recall some more adventures to share with you, but my life is pretty boring but there is a story about a bar which is rather amusing. I hope you are all well. ZHAO PLEASE WRITE SOMETHING I HAVE NO IDEA HOW YOU ARE. And Alison I will let you know my travel plans as soon as I can, I'm trying to figure out if I have enough money to get a hotel room in Strasbourg right now, so we'll see. I hope you get your bicyclette situation resolved vitement.

'Cheers'

Eleanor

Grave grèves

Hello, hello friends. I hope you've had a nice day wherein you needed not to walk for thirty minutes to a rendez-vous. As it so happens, however, I had to -- I missed the tram, and the screen informed me ever-so-kindly that another would not be coming for 24 minutes. Why on earth would it take that long for a tram to arrive, you ask? Well, to be fair I was forewarned, but curse that blasted optimism of mine. I received earlier this week an email from my overseas coordinator about that particular gem of French culture... no not Kevin Kline in that brilliant movie French Kiss (wait, he's not French?!), but rather strikes --

Dear Students:

As you have undoubtedly heard, a general strike has been called tomorrow [Thursday 18/10] in response to Sarkozy's proposed reform on the Régimes spéciaux. Despite legislation calling for service minimum (which actually won't go into effect until next year), you should expect little or no public transportation and plan accordingly.

For the moment it has been announced as a one-day event, but several of the SNCF unions have voted in favor of a grève reconductible meaning that this is probably not the last that we've heard from the cheminots. Organizers are hoping for a strong support of solidarity, so other public services are likely to be affected, too.

Enjoy your exposure to the French social model ;-) Courage!

The SNCF has little to do with my daily life; most unfortunate for commuters of course (though curses! for my class yesterday was not canceled, blast that solid tenacity of my professor who made it into the city!), but I was not traveling anywhere this week that called for regional trains. However, the transportation strike in Strasbourg today was by a PRIVATE company, who despite nice wages and benefits, apparently goes on strike from time to time. And, as I am currently sans vélo for rather silly reasons that cannot be remedied until I win the lottery or steal another bicycle, it is so that I must walk everywhere. After all, we don't want train conductors to have to work past 55-years-old, what with their demanding job of pushing buttons.

By the way, I like that Blogger's examples for "Labels for this post" include "scooters".

I want a scooter.

bisous,
Alison

Schweiz, part 2: Zurich and zebras

Well, ignore the "zebras" part, but I thought I should stick with the alliteration. As planned, here is the second part of my journey through Switzerland --

Zurich is, of course, a larger city than Basel. When we arrived on Saturday, we quickly exchanged some euros into francs, and then went to the tourist office to find a hostel. Good news, there was one. Bad news, it didn't open until three o'clock, and there were no guaranteed places. It was around 1 or 1:30 at this time, so we trudged off into the city to kill time until three. We found an open-air market of jewelery and scarves and sat in a café. A man representing some environmentalist party gave us pretty sunflowers. Also, whilst sitting at the café with out flowers perched beside us, a random Swiss woman came up to us and began talking in rapid Swiss German, for at least a good four minutes. Kira and I simply pretended to understand -- nodding and smiling and laughing and looking at each other in hilarious incredulity -- while the woman gestured to our flowers and then to outside. At one point, Kira even responded, in English, "Yes the weather is nice today." The woman -- perhaps senile, perhaps drunk -- then began to SING to us for a bit, waving her hands as if trying to get us to sing along. She then left, leaving us bewildered and laughing.

When the time came, we went to the hostel (City Backpacker), and climbed at LEAST five flights of stairs to make it to the receptionist. After a tense twenty minutes of searching to see if three beds were available... the receptionist told us there were not, in fact, any free beds. Bugger. However, he very kindly telephoned another, slightly more expensive, slightly further, but rather nice hotel for us and told us if we could make it there in thirty minutes, they'd hold a room for us. So we booked it across town and found a nice, cozy room awaiting us. We watered our precious flowers -- which had been drooping slightly -- and relaxed before heading out.

First we went to Grossmünster church, which was a spearhead in the Reformation. In fact, Zurich is made up of Protestant churches which are distinctly different from the cathedrals I have seen elsewhere in Europe. They are incredibly plain, in the vein of Protestant thinking, but nothing like American protestant churches; instead, they are huge and looming, so that their starkness and emptiness is that much more startling. Anyway, in the crypt of Grossmünster stands a statue of Charlemagne and his two-meter sword, which we all attempted to pull out à la Arthur Pendragon, that merry king of England.

To save money -- Switzerland is ungodly expensive -- we went to a co-op and bought a pizza to cook. And then after dinner, we took some champagne, wine and chocolate (Lindt chocolate in Switzerland = heaven) and went to the Opera house to enjoy the evening. We ended up meandering to a random dock along the river, and then we tried to get into the Oktoberfest tent (but it closed to newcomers after 11), and then meandered around Zurich because, well, we were in a random foreign country and could.

On Sunday, we discovered that absolutely nothing is open in Switzerland. We wandered down the famous shopping street -- a bit like M Street on steroids -- only it was almost deserted. We wanted to visit some more churches, but there's this silly thing on Sunday mornings where people gather in them for some reason. So first we went to a tourist shop to look at those silly tourist things, before heading to Framünster, a Protestant church with the most beautiful stained glass windows by the artist Chagall. I secretly took pictures, shh.

We then went back to the opera house, as we had decided last night to try to get tickets to "Die Zauberflöte" (The Magic Flute). It turns out that for students, tickets were only 18 francs (roughly 16 dollars, methinks), and due to the fact that it was not a packed crowd, we managed to sneak into rather superb seats. The opera house itself is beautiful, and we looked out of place since we only had one pair of jeans each and hadn't really showered in two days. The opera was amusing and wonderful, despite an overly wordy and confusing English summary in the program (I finally understood on the fifth read-through).

 After the matinée, we went back to Grossmünster to climb one of the twin towers, leading us to a spectacular view of the city. After a small dinner, we took the train back to Basel, and another back to good old Strasbourg, where I ended the wonderful weekend with a steaming hot shower. But really, I'm still a bit amazed that I can just spend the weekend in a foreign country, with only a backpack, some money, some linguistic skills and preferably a guidebook.

Dear Eleanor, I hope that you are soon better. Sad as our states are, it is comforting that even separated by distances as we be, we are still sharing colds together.

Alison, sick in Strasbourg

Schweiz, part 1: Basel and basilisks

Hello friends, I come bearing the story of my weekend -- or, half of a story.

Two other students and I decided to take a spontaneous journey this past weekend -- we had absolutely no destination in mind, only that our tickets there should be no more than 60 euros, round-trip. So, we showed up at the train station around three o'clock with our bags packed, aiming to leave as soon as possible. At the ticket stand, the woman took our only criterion with a queer look on her face ("Um... okay."), and after a few options that were too expensive or not very interesting, she offered us a round-trip ticket to Basel for less than 20 euros. "To Switzerland!" we cried, and promptly purchased the tickets.

Roughly two hours later, and we were in Switzerland. We stumbled through the practically deserted douane (in fact, our entrance into the country was only marked by a man on the train asking us where we lived and how long we would be in Switzerland), but we insisted at one office that they stamp our passports -- which they rarely do now unless you search them out. In fact, the two officers working seemed to find it amusing, and asked for money (first) and then a kiss (second). Creepy, right? But we eventually got our Schweiz stamps!

Switzerland in Basel is a curious mélange of Swiss German, French and English (the further south you go, the appearance of Italian crops up, and the further north -- German), which can be a bit head-spinning, especially since you don't know which language to try first. We opted for French, and went to the tourist office to try to find a hostel to stay at, since we didn't fancy sleeping on park benches. It was promptly settled, with a hostel open and with room for 20 euros a night, breakfast included. We hopped over there, deposited our bags, and decided on an evening walk through Basel (apparently pronounced to rhyme with "nozzle" though I quite often still pronounce it like the herb).

First I must mention however, another difficulty -- that of currency. Due to our spontaneity, we did not think about currency exchanges. While euros are accepted, it is usually at a terrible exchange rate to the Swiss franc. At dinner Friday night, for example, we settled our 55 franc bill with two 1-franc coins (we had received them as change at our hostel) and an attempted guess at how many euros were equal. We then quickly left in case it was not sufficient, though I tend to think we over-payed. We decided we needed to get some Swiss francs the next day.

The next morning, after a lovely breakfast (and after stealing bread and cheese for lunch), we checked out and began hauling our backpacks and ourselves throughout the city, this time in daylight. We took the tram up the hill to the University -- Erasmus and Nietzsche both graduated from the university. That means that it is certainly most likely that at least the latter walked on the same streets as I did -- including most certainly the 775+ year old bridge gracing the Rhine river. Unfortunately, I found no markers regarding Nietzsche's presence in the city. We then stumbled across the university botanical gardens and decided to take a walk through it. (As an aside, Harry Potter-like artifacts abound in Basel! I found the trunk of the whomping willow in the gardens, Kira was eaten by dragonsnare, street sweepers use brooms that look like Cleansweep 7's, the town's crest includes a basilisk (more on this to come), and there's a town further south in Switzerland called Grindelwald. You can imagine my excitement.)

We then walked up yet another hill (there are a lot in Switzerland) to the cathedral, which provides a spectacular view over the Rhine. And there we found the epitaph of Erasmus inside.

Anyway, one of the greatest things I learned about Basel was from my guide book, which said that Basel was the first and only city to have a public trial and execution of a chicken: "In 1474, a hen allegedly laid an egg on a dung heap under a full moon, an action sure to hatch the horrible creature [the basilisk]. The bird was tried, found guilty, and beheaded, and the egg was ceremonially burnt." Some food for thought.

 I was also successful in eating Swiss cheese, as we stopped by a market in Marktplatz and were heralded by a stall owner to try some cheese. Who am I to refuse free offerings? And then after sitting by a fountain and munching on cookies, we headed to the train station (more hills), where we found out that tickets to Zurich were 40 euros round-trip. This was a bit pricey, but considering that between the two trains we were spot-on our budget (60 euros round-trip), we decided to take it. We hopped on a train ten minutes later, on our way to a new city in Switzerland. But my tales of Zurich will wait for another time. I have class soon, and I'm rather ill, so I shall conserve my strength.

Regards,
Alison

Death, or something like it

I have a terrible cold. Now, I need to share this with you because, Alison, I'm breaking our fairly strict no medicine policy because I can barely speak. Please forgive me if I'm a complete disappointment to you, but I don't have any friends here and I need to be able to speak to make them so I don't die of Ghruba.

I'll write a legit post about Oxford when I feel better/my classes and social commentary.

Love to you both,
Elle

I was on top of Healy

Recent happenings
- last Saturday was the National Book Festival down at the National Mall. I stood in line for an hour to get a book signed by Terry Pratchett!
- the other day, I wanted to check my email in Leavey and there was a guy standing there waiting as well. I asked, "Are you waiting to use the computer?" and he replied, "Yes, but I'll only be a minute." Then I watched as the oldish man went on myspace and scanned a purple profile with a butterfly background, and all I could think was, creeeeeepy.
- Jenn said that weather.com mixed up the forecasts for certain days, which I found wildly funny.
- Jenn made 21 cupcakes for Ma Kuan De's 21st birthday ahead of time since she had papers to do during the week. But they wouldn't all fit in the tupperware, so I ate the exclamation point.
- this weekend Jim and I went exploring. We went to the TOP of the crane in the middle of the construction site of the new MSB building. Yeppp. The view was pretty awesome. Then we climbed up Healy. On a long yellow ladder going straight up - it was just a scary metal ladder going from the ground up. Aili, remember the New North ladder climbing incident with Jim? This was 10x that, and after some hesitation, I did it! You just had to keep going in a mechanical way, foot, other foot, hand, hand. It really is psychological. The crane was far, far higher and although there was metal casing around it for security, it's not like you actually had to rely on it. While on the roof of Healy, Jim TOOK TWO METAL DECORATIVE STARS by unscrewing them with his key. I had never been more physically afraid for my life, but it was exhilarating. Brave or foolish? I'd like to think the former.

London Revisited

Yes to Les Miz- I was actually going to suggest that as I see the freaking signs everywhere.

Now back to london...

I would say that the most memorable part of the last few days was after a meeting last week, I just walked around for five hours. I went to the National Gallery and stared at art and covertly listened to the presentations they were giving to high school and elementary school children. Alright, It wasn't that covert, but I tried at least.

Then I walked by Parliament and all the government buildings, although, it took me awhile to figure out that they were indeed the government buildings. It was only after looking for a trash can for several minutes that I realized that these must in fact be government buildings. Yay, I'm so smart.

Then I was going to go into Westminster Cathedral, you know because it is right there. However, you have to pay 10 pounds, and I was like, no way am I paying to go in. So, I have decided that one Sunday I will temporarily convert to C of E and go in during services.

Then I meandered my way towards Hyde Park. On my way I ran into a street fair and later Buckingham Palace. Oh, I bought a sandwich and ate it in Green Park. This was lovely.

After that, I headed up along Park Lane, which is the very Posh street with a lot of expensive hotels and went to the US Embassy. I looked at the flag waving in the sky and the people in business suits laying on the lawn.

Hum, then I walked down Oxford Street. Big Mistake. This is the main shopping street in London as far as I can tell. There are thousands of people walking up and down. It is ridicules. It took me probably 15 more minutes because of human interference to walk down it that it should of. Also, these people walk really slowly. I had to do some rather skillful walking, a ballet of walking as it were down the street. Then I went to a rather boring meeting for the Anthro. Dept. and made small talk for an hour. This took all my patience and will not to run out of the room after the first 15 minutes.

When else: I went to Ikea with two other gtowners and two kids from USC, which was a giant expedition involving a tube trip and a bus, but well worth the 1 pound plates and bath mat I got. Hey, Do you know Sarah Holcomb? I've been hanging out with here her a bit.


We also did a bus tour of london, which was informative. Oh and I went to a pub and had 1/2 pint of something called 1664. or was it 1666? well it is something like that. I didn't like it very much to tell the truth.

Monday I had my first lectures. Comments are as follows.

Arab-Israeli Conflict: Teacher is alright. Woman. Has some enthusiasm for topic. Could be very interesting.

Socio-economic Anthropology: Teacher is a little crazy in the awesome way. Material looks interesting.

Morality and Values: Teacher really is in to this. But seems to be good at lecturing. (He was the best at the discussion part for this day.)

Tuesday:
Political and Legal Anthropology: Teacher is lackluster in his lectures. I may need to find another class.

So...I find out kinship sex and gender is the same day and go to that. But first I finish my philosophy reading because I have a legit class today. We have one lecture and one class a week for each course and the one you speak in is class so I thought I better get my act together.

Kinship, Sex and Gender: Teacher is amazing, but there are so many people I dont' know if I will get in. Therefore am in Dilemma.

Philosophy Class: Really intense. Firstly because I have a French prof. who is surprised I know french and geography. Then, these kids are mostly all majors so they are way into the discussion and are arguing points that while i understand, i just don't get why they are clinging to them so strongly. arg.

Then I go to a history class on the cold war, which seems rather interesting and the lecturer is really good, so I don't know what to do about this one either. I think that the Arab-Israeli conflict is probably more important for me to know about given that the Cold War is over, but still that knowledge is relevant.

Today being Wed. I have no classes. I also slept till 2 pm because I didn't set an alarm. However, I am sick so that might have something to do with it. I would like more notes that on your patissarie eating next time. You've made me hungry. I have to go forage now.

What I love about la France...

  ... is that just about every patisserie has delicious mini-cakes, crêmes brulés, tartes ... and I can sit on a park bench and enjoy sunshine and sweets.

That's all I have to say, really.

Amitiés,
Alison

PS: If I were to visit you in London, Elle, could we go see Les Miz in West End? Hee hee... I mean, I'd bravely cross the Channel chiefly to see you, of course. Of course. But, since I'd already be there...

First Impressions, not the Austen novel

I resent the implication, Ms. Goodrich, that you are the principle writer of this fine blog. I am technologically challenged both my distance and my aversion to all things modern. Therefore there should be some kind of learning curve to this stuff.

Let me reflect...
I didn't finish packing until the day I left. I double and triple checked things. Yet, I still forgot a bunch of random things, which now will have to come in the package of cooking things my mom is sending me. Like most of my makeup. I feel I should have some. Oh well. My natural luminance shall have to carry me through.

Our plane left at 1:30 cle time and then we flew to chicago to connect to our london flight. Bad idea. Don't fly west when you want to go east. Next to me there was a british man who looked vaguely like my Gov prof from last year. Vaguely. My favorite part of the trip was when he said after we landed. "It'll be good to get back to some good old horrible weather." This is when I suddenly realized that I would need and umbrella. Luckily, I had apparently thought of that weeks ago and packed one and forgot about it. I also watched what is, in my opinion, the worst movie made in the last 2 years. It is called "lucky you" and it rivals the marvel that is "chasing liberty". I mean this in all seriousness, it was so bad and cliche that it was funny. I mean my dad and i spent 1.5 hours laughing at how bad it was at times.

Hum what else. Everything here is so expensive. I need to find a really cheap way to feed myself, and soon. Borough market is apperntly good and is near my housing, it is sort of like eastern market with food stalls and such i think, we have something like it at home, so i'm going to go explore that saturday. apperntly celebrities shope there. i will let you know if i see anyone.

The last few days my dad and I have just kicked around London. We went for a walk to my dorm which is 2.5 miles away from the school and takes like 40 minutes to get to. The area is slightly dodgey and I shan't be walking around here at night without at least one male. Or two females. This is not to be an indication that i find women in any way inferior to men. This is the second oldest settle area of London, but now it is mostly shabby housing and a few appartment complexes. There is decent night life according to some on the nearby thoroughfares.

London is insanely busy. I am going to die because of this traffic. I keep looking the wrong way when I cross the streets, in spite of the fact almost every intersection is marked with the direction of traffic coming. today, there a man on a bike that cursed for a full minute at a cab driver that went two far through an intersection. Also, there are so many people here, i don't know what to do with myself. I feel like i am constantly walking on the wrong side of the sidewalk or something, except no one seems to be walking with any order at all. I feel like the amount of foot traffic is even worse than New York, it is really jam packed during the week, people spill out of the islands that are in the center of the street for pedestrians to use.

It is really beautiful though. We walked throughout Southwark and then over Tower Bridge past the tower of london into the heart of the financial district during our tour of the city a pied. The mixture of architectural styles from the last 400 years is quite stunning really, expecially in comparison with american cities. Washington is beautiful, but this has even more styles that are all harmonized together my their proximity and the history of the area. Baroque next to modern glass. Remnants of the devastation of the second world war are also evident in places, though this city is almost perfect, esepcially since i've seen berlin, which hasn't really been rebuilt in sections. I did see a church here that is missing almost the entire nave, only the entrance remains. The certainly could have rebuilt it, but you get the feeling they left it that to remind the future generations of what happened and what this city survived.

Today I had orientation, which was pretty much like that meeting they made us go to at georgetown in the Gym that just told you everything you would already have know if you read their orientation materials. Apparently i am the only person that does that though. Stop laughing at me right there. One of the deans was rather humorous which made it more enjoyable that I had thought.

After that, I walked with my dad to the Museum of london, which has exhibits on the city's history. I of course loved it as I have always love archeology. For your information 4pounds 36 shillings was two years salary in 1348 of the average laborer. Someone found it hidden in a wall. I wonder if i've hidden any money anywhere i've forgotten. Probably there is a pair of jeans in cleveland with 5 dollars in them.

Hey. As to Paris-we have a subsidized trip there 9-11 Nov. But, I'm willing to go sooner if you like, say the third weekend in october? I'm kind of broke so i don't know if i'll be able to go to Strasbourg as well, but i'm going to try and swing it. I would love to see the city. I guess I could see you as well. Do you know a hostel i could stay at?

Also, I miss you a lot. Bisous and hugs, Eleanor

Weekend get-away, get away

Well, this past weekend I went to the Côte d'Azur with the other Georgetown students studying in Strasbourg. On Friday night we took a sleeper train to Nice; each room was stuffed with six couchettes. For me, there's something so romantic about trains -- even the overpriced, poorly run Amtrak trains captivate me. Even the six cramped couchettes -- overheated (at least until our window was stuck open and we froze to death), with no privacy or even any security -- were enthralling. Scenery rolled past, with often stops marking a slow progress. The train lulled me to sleep, although the bed was hard and there were strangers in the room; and when I awoke on Saturday, it was the next morning -- in Nice.

We spent the day in Nice, which started off well enough but ended by being disappointingly drizzly for the afternoon. I found le marché aux fleurs where I stumbled across with my family over seven years ago during our brief foray to the South of France, and where Cary Grant shook off some policemen trailing him in To Catch a Thief (I actually spent a lot of time on this trip thinking of that movie). Afterwards, I made my way to the waterfront, and I found the same lookout I used to observe the city in 2000. I sat at a crêperie and had an overpriced nutella and banana crêpe and hot tea; I read and watched passersby and was attacked by a yellow jacket intent on my inappropriate midday meal.

I then went to the Musée d'Art Contemporain, hoping to escape the increasing chill of the afternoon, and pretending to be cultured as you know I tend to do. Afterwards, I browsed some shops, and ran into some of the students who had gone to the beach earlier that morning. I followed them to an English bar for cocktails to console us as the drizzle had begun to dampen the streets of Nice. After a dinner with the group, we returned to the bar, and I and two others engaged in conversation with some Germans who told me -- among other things -- that the only languages anyone ever need learn are English and German. I told them my two German phrases, and they taught me a curse word. Why do I always end up talking with Germans? I also later got in a fight with a bush after visiting a late-night crêperie (yes, I have an addiction), but that is a story for another time.

On Sunday we spent the day driving to Monaco, Eze and Cannes along the Mediterranean. To me, the small old city and palace that we visited in Monaco (we later drove through Monte Carlo) were cardboard cut-outs of real places, a Disneyworld attraction, only less fun because Disneyworld is grand really (in fact, I'm spending the New Year there with my family). Nothing seemed unique; every store was a tourist souvenir shoppe; the only scenes that inspired in me the desire to stand and admire or photograph were the beautiful cliffs rising sharply above the bright blue of the sea. Eze was a medieval city -- of the old, walled types, with doors that make you wonder if people could really fit through them, once. And in Cannes I kept myself to the main street along the beach, and a market of local artwork and crafts. The only stores were designer stores; the only emblem of the city was the film festival that one is reminded of every ten paces.

So overall, despite a scenic view of breathtaking sea, mountains and cliffs, the Côte d'Azur mostly... lacks character, as I suppose most places driven by tourists are, by default. It was lovely for the weekend, but I was happy to return to the 'bourg after it all; I arrived this morning via another overnight train, with time for a shower before my only class of the day.

I trust that you are all well -- I suppose Eleanor is soon in England, if not already. And Shelly, begin checking your mailbox for something exciting.

xx bisous,
Alison

L'Alsace, le meilleur des deux mondes

Hello friends, I have much to say to you, as this was an eventful weekend full of Alsacien good times... laissez les bon temps rouler as they say, or wait -- that's New Orleans. What do they say here?

Saturday: I woke up early and met up with two other erasmus students, Marina and Kira. We took the bus to Germany (round-trip tickets to Germany, only 2.50 euros, book now!) as we were eager to take advantage of the lower prices just fifteen minutes away. You know the French and their taxes. I ended up buying a memory card for my camera (yes, I have a camera now!) and a coat for these difficult winters. As an aside, Germans are truly the nicest people I've met on this fair continent, on the whole that is (for the French have been very pleasant as well, but you know those nasty stereotypes). Although, for some reason they seemed to think that I understood German, although I only spoke English. I would ask Marina to say something, as she speaks German, and the person helping us would talk to me, as if I had just asked the question. But regardless, I now know two German phrases: Ich heiβe Alison. Ich komme aus den Vereinigten Staaten.

We returned to join a group of erasmus students for a trip to the Kronenbourg factory to enjoy a tour of the facilities, learn how they make beer, and of course round out the experience with la dégustation -- tasting of several different beers. Actually, I did not enjoy the beers I had, but I am rather picky when it comes to it, yes? They gave us pretzels however, and so I was content.

I ended the successful day with a house party at a French student's apartment. This guy, through several connections, knows Lauren from a visit to Georgetown, so we had already met him a couple of weeks before. As such, he invited us to come early to meet some of his friends before the other invitees were scheduled to come. I therefore met a small group of French students, and some Germans with French names. Our entrance to the soirée only proves I am right when it comes to how ridiculous French greetings are -- namely, the two kisses on every cheek. It went something as follows:

'Alison, Jean.' *kiss,kiss* 'Lauren, Jean.' *kiss,kiss* 'Alison, Pascal.' *kiss,kiss* 'Lauren, Pascal.' *kiss,kiss* 'Alison, Oliver.' *kiss,kiss* 'Lauren, Oliver' *kiss,kiss* 'Alison, Julien.' *kiss,kiss* 'Lauren, Julien.' *kiss,kiss* 'Alison, Marie.' *kiss,kiss* 'Lauren, Marie.' *kiss,kiss* (I do believe there was another person, too).

You can see how this already exhausts my attempt at being sociable. Only once I was done kissing everyone was I offered a place to sit, a drink, and you know the general chitchat of those awkward first meetings. In addition, some people grasp your hand when they are kissing your cheeks, which then causes me to FLIP OUT slightly, as this is TOO MUCH physical contact with STRANGERS.

But anyway, the Germans were nice, and taught me more phrases to add onto my slight German, including "Nice to meet you" and "I'm wasted." But, Ich spreche keine Deutsch.

Sunday: I woke up early yet again for the planned Route des Vins, a bus ride through Alsace, a region rich in wine production. Our first stop was the charmingly small town of Obernai, where I promenaded (like in a Jane Austen book), took pictures, bought a pastry and drank a café.

 We then traveled onwards to le château de Haut-Koeningsbourg (left!), a castle on the top of a mountain that was reconstructed by Kaiser Wilhelm II at the turn of the twentieth century. Despite my interest in history, I found our tour rather boring, especially as there were nearly seventy of us trying to listen to one woman, so instead I spent my time examining strange nooks and crannies, and the graffiti that has accumulated in the stairwells. Afterwards, we had a picnic, although it wasn't much of one because there was not really anywhere to sit.

After that came Riquewihr, where we went into une cave to participate in la dégustation. I tuned out our tour guide yet again, so I cannot tell you anything interesting about the production of Alsacien wine, except that a) the region is mostly known for white wines, and b) the region is protected by laws which somehow in someway for some reason helps them flourish in their production (in my defense, I was very tired by this point). The more interesting part was when we tasted the wine, and learned how to examine it my sight, smell, sound (I lie, but I got bored listening yet again, so I started moving my finger around the top of the glass to make it ring) and of course, taste. They were all quite delicious, especially with Kougelhopf, an Alsacien cake, to accompany them.

Lastly was the city of Colmar, Alsace's second largest city. We promenaded some more, and bought ice cream, and then paninis, and sat my a small canal and ate. We looked at la Petite Venise, the "waterfront", and I made friends with a small gray cat, and then it was time to return to Strasbourg.

But truly, Alsace is a beautiful region. Throughout the entire route I could see Les Voges, the mountains in the distance; and it was a perfect day, and we past towns and fields and just about everything was so picturesque I felt like I was looking at a postcard.

Yet now I must turn my thoughts towards studies, as this week sees the commencement of classes. Donc, à pluss! votre amie,
Alison

My life is boring because i am

Comrades,

Alright, so I really don't do anything exciting so I will recount the really boring stuff I have been doing to tide you over until I can at leasts describe England and distract you from my own flat-character attributes. Yes, I did just use a 10th grade English term to describe myself.

I have in the past few days...
Gotten my hair cut- Just a little off the sides and some layers. It looks pretty much the same. I'm not really and adventurous hair person, no matter how often I want to dye my hair red to combat the perception I hold that I am really old and a failure. Once I cut it above my shoulders. And once I let myself get talked into highlights by my mom's friend. I was really sad afterwards because it was so light colored after they did it. I hated it. I thought I looked like one of those tan idiots with streaky blond hair who cant form complex sentences and look lost all the time.

I also got my nails done. Which I rarely do for the reason that I'm not really the kind of girl that can keep a manicure nice for an extended period of time. I like pick things up, and like, move. Case in point, I chipped my index finger within two hours of leaving the salon. The nails are a dark red color, if you care. I feel that I would like quite sophisticated if I wasn't so boring and awkward and prone to laugh strangers' idiosyncrasies that I only I seem to see.

I went to and Indians game tonight, which we won. I'm happy about that as we are only two games away from being in the playoffs for the first time in 7 years. But, at the same time, I am little disappointed that I'm going to be out of the country and in a different time zone making it really difficult to enjoy this season. Ah, c'est la vie.

I have been trying to get all my stuff together for school also. I don't feel like winging it would be good to do this time, as I am apt to pack like that on occasion. I packed all my clothes, two suitcases full, and I'm trying to get my bedding and other nicknacks together so my room doesn't look like an unadorned cement tomb. I kind of forgot to do that when I came to gtown two years ago, so i'm attempting self improvement here. You will all be happy to know, if i haven't told you before, that i got a visa and now have permission to be in the UK until next august. yay.

I'm also considering getting a job in england, because, a the money would be nice, as i'm pretty much going to be broke for the rest of my life because of this sojourn and b. it would be a good cultural experience and i'm an anthropology major and that is sort of what we do, you know. However, there is my sometimes taciturn disposition to take into account, also my lack of patience with idiots so I may need to find something a little more conducive to my particular talents. Maybe there will be an antisocial highly intelligent child i can babysit and take to the theater. Wow, I am really awkward.

What else. I went to work the other day and finally finished all the filing I have been working on. FYI Lawyers are the cause of deforestation. I have filed, I would say, at least 1000 pieces of paper since I've been there. Quick reflection of employment- If you are going to work with someone day in and day out, you really need to get along with them, or at least not hate them and think they are stupid. Timidity is not an asset. Also, office gossip and strife go hand in hand. Oh, and free bagels in the conference room can save you from wanting to slit your wrists with your 100 stack sheet of files.

Hum. In other news...my step-brother came into town to pick up my step-mom's car so he can drive it to Portland where he is currently living in what, according to his description, is the scariest house in the entire city. I mean, really, I would need to tell you over the phone or in person, but, it is really a little creepy. However, the rent is cheap and if you are unemployed, that is good.

I'm attempting to review Arabic now, so I shall bid you all adieu. All my best, Eleanor

Straβburg

 Friends,

Here I present to you, briefly, some images of Strasbourg taken not by myself (for as you know I lack a camera), but rather another student promenading with me at the time. This is the view of the towers in the area known as Petite France (called such by the Germans because it housed criminals and prostitutes, and was thus characterized by sexual diseases such as syphilis, which originated in France, and you know the French are very dirty). Lovely story, isn't it? But I do enjoy the quaint trivia that arise from old cities; they practically reek of history.

In other news, I've discovered that Germany is but a bike ride or bus fare away, and home to cheaper clothes, toiletries and groceries. Just a short trip to the Rhine, and a lovely bridge to cross brings me to another land. My first trip to Germany (on Saturday), though, was marked by ordering Italian ice cream in French from a Turkish woman who spoke to us in Portuguese. And it seems that every time I get lost in Strasbourg (which of course rarely happens), I almost end up in Germany -- indicated by signs informing me that Kehl, Allemagne is not far, turn left here.

But here, have some more pictures of Straβburg (as the Germans l'épellent):

  

A pluss,
Alison

La Vie Strasbourgeoise

Mes Amies,

Ça va? I hope that life is treating you kindly. Well, let me recount a few things, not necessarily in any particular order:

1. Yesterday I rented a bicycle, the preferred mode of transportation for the Strasbourgeois. A very kind Colombian student who was sage with the experience of having done it herself helped me. I now feel like a true Strasbourgeoise as I pedal down the cycloroutes (I do not know if that is the correct word) with the wind in my hair (not at all glamorous, though), or at least sort-of, as my bike has the name of the rental store written across it which thus cheapens my pretense of acting like a native.

2. As I was heading toward a table at a café terrace today to order coffee while I waited for Lauren, a woman beckoned me towards her. When I stood before her, she asked very quietly (so I had to ask her to repeat it again), "Vous savez bien parler la russe?"

"La russe? Ah, non, désolée."

Then she simply nodded, and our exchange was over. I am most perplexed, however, as I am quite positive that I do not look Russian.

3. Later today, Lauren and I stumbled upon an outside market, and darted off of the tram at the last minute to peruse its stalls. (As an aside, the tram here is quite nice; it allows me to see how everything is connected together in the city, and is clean, though rather expensive. However, when walking or riding my bike, I am always paranoid that it will hit me when I see it coming, even from ten meters away (metric system, folks!). The drivers know how to stop, correct? I shall not attempt to test this, however.) I found shirts and sweaters for 5 euros, although I purchased nothing. However, having spent months in China bargaining led me to have a sudden desire to bargain for even things I did not want. For instance, when Lauren was looking at a sweater, she asked the man how much it was. "20 euros," he said.

I responded, "... (this implies hesitation) 15 euros? Ça va?"

"Non."

"Mais, c'est trop cher!"

"18 euros, c'est tout."

I was elated at my success, even though a) 15 euros was too high for me to start off with, as the sweater did not merit it, and b) Lauren did not even buy it ("Non, merci. Au revoir."). I shall need keep a look out for more marchés.

4. The cat in this house hates me. She either flinches or attacks when I move.

5. A homeless man has quacked at me, on two different occasions.

But enough, for now I am dining with my host family before heading out to a bar with the erasmus students (Oh, how awkward it shall be).

I listened to Shelly's appointed songs, or at least The Servant's as I already knew Emmanuel's song. I think it is quite lovely, though I've never heard of the band, and shall soon send out a couple songs of my own as well. I have also watched the first few episodes of Coffee Prince, which is silly and Korean enough for me to of course desire to watch the rest. But ! instead I shall take my time, and not follow previous experiences of shutting myself in a room for two days to finish whichever Asian drama entranced me as soon as possible. Nay, nay, comrades. Not this time.

A bientôt,
Alison

P.S.: I was bored the other night and applied labels to most of the blog posts regarding places. It's a sad life I lead.

continued adventures...

I am back in Cleveland now and can finish my recounting of the trips events from the relative comport of the TV room.

Now...where was I? Oh, yes. Dinner. Alex, Mer, Elle and Shelly meet Lindsay, Kevin and his new girlfriend Niki and walk over to the Elephant and Castle, a Canadian chain of faux british pubs, from some metro stop or other. Jeff, Cory and Jen join us. I debate what to eat and settle on Bangers and Mash, which Jen also has. I engage Niki in conversation after I speak to Jen for around 15 minutes and feel I am being rude. Lindsay mostly talks to Kevin; Mer, Alex and Shelly converse and cory speaks to them sometimes. Jeff looks sullen and is mad that I broke our pact to unawkward the dinner by engaging in conversation. I later move to that end of the table and have desert with him and shelly. It is a brownie sundae, it is fairly good.

I then suggest that we walk back to campus- everyone except Jen humors me and we proceed minus Jen who takes the bus back to Gtown with the intention of going clubbing in Adams Morgan on our walk through the slightly humid, though quite pretty dc evening. The streets are practically empty downtown. We take Niki past the White House, which she has never seen, and I of course feel a rush of patriotism. Shut up, I did. After many more minutes we cross into Georgetown. We then go to the crepe place, but we are still all to full to eat anything else. I buy a bottle of water which I will later lose in mer's room.

We then return to school. Alex, Mer, Shelly, Cory and I then watch High School Musical 2. This was not my idea. I find it momentarily diverting. Then Cory makes us sing karaoke. I, however, do not participate. A. I cannot sing. B. I have not seen the first HSM from which the karaoke is taken. There is much laughter during this time, we make fun of Alex who has a very strange laugh and many other things. Shelly and I walk back to her apartment around 1 and go to sleep around 3 for some reason or other.

Day 3/Sunday
Today I wake up at 11:20 to go meet my floormates to go to Adams Morgan Day. I hurry only to arrive and find that they themselves are not ready. I drink water while they finish their preparations. We deport on the 12:22 G2 which we take to Dupont. Before we take the red line, we sample the fresh produce being sold in the farmers market outside the metro stop. There are several fruit growers selling their peaches, and apples. There are also people selling crab cakes, and the sample is rather good, so I decide that when we return, I will buy one for dinner. Then take the metro to adams morgan.

The Adams Morgan stop is buried deep within the earth and ascending the escalators from the bottom is like leaving the deepest reaches of hades. There is only darkness as you climb out of the pit, until, finally, you see that hopeful light and move towards it, leaving the bowels of WMATA as you climb a seemingly endless staircase and appear next to a starbucks and two restaurnats that offer all day happy hour. After a brief sojourn acroos a bridge you arrive at the main drag of am. It is blocked off by a police car and serveral metal barriers and the street is backed with people at this end listening to a regee band play. They crowd seemes enraptured by the music and we all wait for half a song before moving into the throng of people, food, and comercialied products that line the street. There isn't anything really to buy here that I would like. I briefly contemplate buying my sister a headband, but I'm broke anyway, so I refrain. We wander for more than an hour, looking at
the wears being pedeled by an assortment of people, from a woman who sells lamp shades to the free yo-yos to a tee-shirt stand, some bad artwork and various food stalls that I am sure are not up to code. We walk back to Dupont which now after having walked for several blocks for this street fair is only a few blocks away. We take the G2 back to Gtown and I bid adieu and take my leave.

I then return to Shelly's. She and I spend the afternoon wandering around gtown, going and getting a crepe this time, picking her camera up from the Daily Grille, buying an apple at Dena and Deluca and walking along the canal along with some anthropologie window shopping. After this, shelly goes to a meeting for Harmony and I play piano until I go to church. We have all agreed to meet at 915 to get dinner at la madeline, but I don't get out of church until 9;23 so I dash off and meet lindsay, mer and alex who are already there. Shelly doesn't get our of her meeting until even later so we order her a country pizza and enjoy the free bread and sit and have some conversation as the sweep up floors and wash down the tables around us as it is closing time there. We return to school determined to meet for breakfast on monday. Shelly stays up late doing homework and I stay up part of the time reading until I decide I need to sleep.

Day 4/Monday
8 am- my alarm goes off. I hit snooze
8:10am I hit snooze again
8:20 I awaken. Shelly is still asleep. I take a shower
8:40 I attempt to wake up shelly again. She defies me. I go pack my things.
8:54 I try to wake her up again. No luck
9:06 Shelly wakes up, we leave and walk to Leo's.

I am a little too excited about this Leo's meal. We eat with mer and alex. I have eggs and bacon. It is as good as I remember it! Mer and Alex leave and go to class. I embrace Mer.

Lindsay comes and eats. We three then wander around the school, go to wisey's and buy honest-tea and then I bid lindsay adieu. Shelly and I frolick back to her apartment and then power walk because super shuttle gives me a call and says they are on their way. ie i got an automated message. I through my remaining possessions into my bag and then take my leave of shelly and I am very sad. I sullenly sit as super shuttle takes me through dc to bwi.

I arrive at 12:30 for a 2:45 flight. I am upset that I left so early. I am even more upset when my plane is delayed until 3:45 and I don't not arrive home until 5:15. I eat dinner at a restaurant with my father and sister. I come home, and write this.

I then win the lotter and have a wonderful year in Europe, flying all over to visit my friends who are scattered by the winds to all corners of our spherical planet. *

*This is not true, but, as I had already written the things that happened, I thought I would try to write a nice future and see if that would make it happen.

Regards, Eleanor

Wonderful Activities

Dear comrades,

I miss you very much. Sob, sob. Therefore, I've brainstormed some wonderful activities we can share. Please respond and get crackin' on number 1.

1. Watch Asian dramas together. Elle and I nominate Coffee Shop Prince, a drama featuring the actress who played Chaegyung/Princess on Goong. She's masquerading as a boy (it's very convincing, too!) and of course there's a love story.

2. Send each other songs weekly, maybe two or three. Like a book club, but replace book with music. hahahaha. Discuss and share and yay. French rap is welcome; expect Chinese pop as well.

3. Figure out Scale of Awkwardness - the varying degrees of awkwardness.

More suggestions are welcome. Postcard-sending is mandatory :)

In other news, my IPOL professor is still endearing and wonderful (he has dark curly hair, is in his late twenties, is tall and lanky, has nice hands (no ring), is genuinely nice, has a goofy laugh, makes not particularly funny jokes but I laugh anyway, and is un peu awkward of course). The available funds on my debit card is still $1.41 (since Chevy Chase hasn't cleared my check yet, curses). I have not done laundry for maybe three weeks (no quarters and no money, sob). We had Harmony audition callbacks tonight and will have them tomorrow night as well. It rained today (a welcome change from the blazing, cancer-causing sun, but apparently I'm also umbrella-less). I miss you both lots.

P.S. Look at the pretty icon! And it's appropriate too since a certain Clevelandian just left me. Sob.