Dusting Off The Cobwebs

Hello! You found the compass!



      It's been a long time! How is everyone? I figured an update that spans the summer months is in order, so here it is. I'm sitting on my bed in my new house in Surbiton, which is far nicer than the dorm. I have great housemates, and life here is pretty good. We're all moved in now and have already mastered the art of making Toad In The Hole.

      Lectures start tomorrow, so this is the final day of summer vacation for me. (I will still only have class twice per week, though, so who's complaining?) FAFSA did indeed work out, and I'm still in the process of extending my visa, but barring any unforeseen circumstances, I am in England for at least another year as planned. Hooray!

      Over the summer, besides just having fun with friends and working on my dissertation, I did four main things: saw the Symphony of the Goddess orchestra, went to Sherlocked, attended MCM, helped my parents move into a new house, and visited Lauren in Cambridge! This will mostly be a massive pile of pictures, but here we go.

      First things first: Symphony of the Goddess. If you have any interest in Zelda, I highly recommend seeing the symphony if it comes to your area. I never thought of myself as someone who would enjoy a symphony, but this one is a bit different from the usual. The audience is encouraged to cheer and applaud when a song we all know and love gets performed. Also, there is a screen with Zelda videos projected onto it behind the orchestra. The videos coincide with the songs being played. There was one movement (is that the right term? I think it is...) in particular, the Ocarina of Time one, which seemed to resonate the most with the audience. It looked like most of the audience was early to mid twenties, like myself. Ocarina of Time was a big part of my childhood, and likely many people there felt the same. The nostalgia got me teary-eyed, which made me embarrassed. That is, until I heard sniffles coming from all around me. I think everyone in the audience realized we were all crying at the same time, and then we laughed it off and enjoyed the music while wiping off our faces. (Music can be very moving...) We were allowed to take photos and video during the show, so I snagged a video of most of the Wind Waker movement. I highly recommend giving the whole thing a listen! (Though for you impatient ones, Great Sea starts at 2:27.)

     Next: Sherlocked, a convention for lovers of the hit BBC series Sherlock. The convention had many famous guests from the show, including Benedict Cumberbatch himself. Con-goers could purchase autograph or picture tickets online. Unfortunately, there wasn't too much to do besides buy things. If anyone went to the con and hadn't purchased a photo shoot ticket or autograph ticket, there were only a handful of things to do, such as look at costumes from the series (pictured below) or learn about Watson's time in war. I got to get a picture with Rupert Graves (Lestrade) and a photo on the original 221B set. Here they are! (These are pictures of the pictures, so not as great quality. Bear with me. Also, all pictures here were taken with my phone, not my good camera.)

      My next summer adventure was also in the Excel Center where Sherlock was held. MCM, or London Comic Con, is a major biannual event. Like Anime Boston (but bigger), there are things to buy and crowds of cosplayers to meet and photograph. (I'll be going again in October with my first group cosplay, where we're all dressing as people from the same anime.) I didn't have any fancy new costumes, so I bought a tiger mask and recycled my Hotline Miami one from Anime Boston. It was a lot of fun! Enjoy some pictures! (Just a sampling. The complete album is on Facebook.)

      One of the last big things I did was visit the states for 11 days and help the parents move into a new house in the beautiful state of Virginia. Can't wait to visit it again for Christmas! Here, have a picture of the area:

      Finally, in August I went to Cambridge for a few days with some Americans (and one kidnapped Brit) to visit my friend Lauren! It was great to see her again after two years. We had fun eating bunches of American food that we got at some nearby Royal Air Force bases. (Lauren's military time got us entry.) Roasting s'mores, punting on the Cam (a very touristy thing where we go down the River Cam in a boat)... Great couple of days!

     

      And that is the very brief overview of my summer! As I said, classes start tomorrow. Along with doing a dissertation and attending class, I'll be in a group of people who will teach first year creative writing seminars and become teaching certified. Should be fun! I think this will be a great final year. I've had so many adventures so far, and I hope you readers stay with me for the next year's worth! I have a few plans brewing already, and they should soon be fully in motion. I'll be sure to get plenty of pictures and keep this blog more updated. So once again, until next time...Cheers!

The Extremely Belated Scotland Post (Plus An Update)

Hello! You found the compass!

      I apologize for how severely late this post is. The trip to Scotland happened in late November, and I am just now getting around to writing about it. I figured I should finally type it up before yet another adventure happens! (No, nothing is planned. This is just a precautionary measure! Hah.) Naturally, some details might be hazy or outright missing, which may affect the tone of the piece. Hopefully I can still make this entertaining for you!

      This time around, my travel companions were Michael (same one as Amsterdam) and Daniel. We left Surbiton Station in the evening to get to the London Victoria bus station, where we'd spend eight hours (if memory serves) on an overnight bus to Glasgow, our first stop. We managed to get seats around a table, giving us room to use our backpacks as pillows for the journey. I slept on and off for most of the ride. I remember waking up and feeling like a Popsicle at one point. That would be a sign of things to come for our time in Scotland: generally, it was pretty cold. This is Scotland in November we're talking about.

      Upon arrival in Glasgow, we had only a faint idea of where our hostel was. We decided that a warm breakfast was in order, and quickly found a cafe near the city center. I scarfed down porridge and hot chocolate, while the boys nabbed coffee and pastries. Their love of coffee and my love of hot chocolate would become something of a running theme on our journey. Almost every time we had an opportunity to try new coffee or hot chocolate, we did so. (I found the greatest hot chocolate ever in Edinburgh, but that comes later.) We wandered around Glasgow for a bit, mentally mapping our way to the hostel. Once we got there, we threw our things in the storage room and set out to explore Glasgow with renewed vigor. No backpacks, full stomachs, and cameras ready for use!

      Right outside of our hostel was a river. We walked along that initially, and found some interesting things to photograph along the way.

      According to a sign just out of frame on that tiger picture, the tiger was commissioned by Tiger Beer. They wanted to represent the year of the tiger, as well as the elements of the Chinese zodiac: water, earth, wood, fire, and metal. While we didn't find the water, earth, wood, or metal tigers, I assume they are out there somewhere.

      We decided we should turn around and head back to the city center to fully appreciate all the sights there. We managed to find a Gallery of Modern Art, plenty of bustling streets, a few more landmarks worth photographing. Having only one day in Glasgow, we tried to make it good. (Also, in continuation with my "this is apparently a tradition now" tradition of trying Mexican food in different countries, we all got burritos in a Chipotle-like establishment in Glasgow. Good, but Chipotle is better.) We did have a whiskey tour lined up at the Glengoyne Distillery, but had time to kill until we had to hop on the bus to get to it.

   
      Our main stop in Glasgow was the famous Glengoyne Whiskey Distillery! A short bus ride through some of the Scottish countryside dropped us off right in front of the distillery for our Tasting Tour! Along with the basic tour, we got to taste an additional whiskey. We also got vouchers from our hostel that got us free nips of ten-year Glengoyne. Fun! Now, let's take the tour...

      The first stop on the tour was a water supply behind the main visitor's building. The supply is used to make the whiskey, and comes down a mountain via the barely-visible waterfall in the back of the picture. The water was relatively low compared to normal due to little rainfall. At one point during the year, the tour guide said it had gotten completely empty. When that happens, no whiskey! This is part of the reason that the distillery is closed during July. If my memory is correct, the tour guide said they close not only for employees to have time off, but because the water supply needs time to refill. 

      Pictures weren't allowed for parts of the tour, but above is your glimpse into the place where the whiskey is made. Glengoyne whiskey has only three ingredients: barley, water, and yeast. Depending on how long it ages and in which casks is what gives the whiskey different flavors. You can also learn a lot about the whiskey based on what the bottle says. Seems obvious, but the words are important. For example: Highland Single Malt. Each word is important in identifying traits about the whiskey. Highland is the region it Scotland it comes from. Other regions include Skye or Lowland, to name two. Single refers to the number of distilleries the whiskey is made at. Since Glengoyne is a lone establishment and its exact recipe kept secret, all of their whiskeys are "single". Malt refers to the type of whiskey (or at least, that's the best I can get out of my very unhelpful notes that just say "malt = whiskey"), meaning it is made from a mash of malted grain, usually barley.

      In the first picture above, there are examples of the different types of casks used for the whiskey. Also, on display in the cabinets are visual representations of how the whiskey ages and evaporates as it ages in different casks. From left to right: American & European Oak refill casks, American Oak bourbon casks, American Oak sherry casks, and European Oak sherry casks. Glengoyne never uses virgin casks. Instead, to enhance the flavor of their whiskey, they always import casks that were used for other types of alcohol. As you can see, the type of alcohol greatly affects the color of the whiskey. Additionally, a lot of whiskey is lost per year to evaporating or being absorbed into the casks. They call the lost bits of whiskey the angel's share.

      Glengoyne prides itself in keeping closely with the original recipe and processing techniques since they were founded in 1833. Their slogan is "Unhurried Since 1833" with good reason: their process isn't the fastest for churning out loads of whiskey, as they've kept their process relatively the same since 1833, but it has produced some of the most famous Scotch whiskey in the world. If it ain't broke...

      After the tour, it was dark out and I went back to the hostel to crash. The next morning we grabbed pastries and coffee/hot chocolate (as usual) and headed to the Glasgow Necropolis before having to catch our bus. We didn't have time to see the necropolis up close, but we did explore the cathedral it is attached to and successfully got locked in the cathedral's basement for a little while. (The detailed story isn't nearly as exciting-sounding as the vague one, so I'll leave it at that.)

      So there ended our Glasgow adventures! It was time to get on the bus and head over to Edinburgh which is, thankfully, a much shorter ride.

     Ah, Edinburgh. This was by far my favorite part of the journey! The city was beautiful, and I'd love to be able to go spend more time in it someday. We arrived Saturday afternoon and set out to find our hostel. We were excited for this one: the hostel was a re-purposed church. Along the way, we stopped into a place for our usual drinks. This is where I found the best hot chocolate ever! It was a dark hot chocolate, and it was just perfect. Even the guys really liked it!

     We found the Belford Hostel pretty easily and went in to throw our stuff down. Sure enough, it was a cool setup. They took all of the pews out of the main area of the church and built a bunch of little rooms instead. It was fun being able to stay overnight in a church, even if the inside barely resembled one anymore. 

    Since it was barely evening at that point, we went out to explore Edinburgh a bit more. We ended up seeing lots of churches, including the famous St. Giles Cathedral, the principle place of worship of the Church of Scotland in Edinburgh. 

      That night, we also checked out a jazz club and grabbed some food at a local pub. This particular pub (whose name I cannot remember) is known for its haggis. Since we were in Scotland, we figured we should all try it once. So we did! As a friendly reminder, haggis is a savory dish made with the heart, liver, and lungs of a sheep, minced with onion, oatmeal, suet, spices, and salt, mixed with stock, traditionally encased in the animal's stomach and simmered for three hours. (Nowadays, it's usually cooked in a sausage casing.) Overall, it wasn't bad! I wasn't an enormous fan of the taste, though, so I wouldn't order it again. Worth trying once just to say I did! With that done, we returned to the hostel for a night.

    

   Sunday: our last day in Scotland. Also, it happened to be Saint Andrew's Day! (The day celebrated the patron saint of Scotland.) We woke up fairly early to get started. We found a cute cafe near the hostel to eat at. The owner was a very nice woman who told us about local places to check out, including a market that was a short walk down the river to the next town over. The boys went back to a church near the hostel to hear the choir while I stayed in the cafe for a bit (I wasn't feeling well and didn't want to move). When we all met up again, we took a stroll along a pretty little river and into the next town. 

     The market was fun! The smell of all the different food made my mouth water. I found yet another hot chocolate person, but this time the drink was literally just a bunch of melted chocolate with a little bit of milk. Very rich, but very good. I also got to try some Indian food, Greek food (including a wonderful baklava), and I believe Michael and I finished off with something Spanish. It was a yummy place!

      We went back to Edinburgh to check out the castle. Initially, I was a bit sad that we wouldn't get to go in since none of us could afford the ticket price. However, it turns out the castle is free on Saint Andrew's Day! We, of course, jumped on the opportunity to visit it. With the view from the castle, I was able to get great pictures of Edinburgh!

      Inside the castle were various rooms with different educational stories to tell. I went into one very dark place (apparently called David's Tower), and learned that Scotland's crown jewels were buried there for four years during World War II. In 1941, under threat of invasion, a decision was made to bury the Scottish Crown, Sceptre (given to King James IV by Pope Innocent VIII), and Sword of the State (given to King James IV by Pope Julius II) in David's Tower. Only four people knew of the locations of the jewels: King George VI, the King's and Lord Treasurer's Remembrancer, the Secretary of State for Scotland, and (believe it or not) the Governor-General of Canada. The idea behind Canada being in the know was that if the first three were captured or killed, the governor-general would be safely across the Atlantic. The jewels were returned to their rightful places in 1945.

     

      After touring the castle, we went on another whiskey tasting. This time, we went to The Scottish Whiskey Experience. While very educational, it was definitely more touristy than actually going to a distillery. However, we did get to see the worlds largest collection of whiskey bottles! 

      That night, we went to check out the festival in town (pictured at the end of night one). There were stalls filled with all sorts of goods, including food, clothing, handmade trinkets, home goods, and so on. We found one man who was selling real wool tartan scarves. He had all the different clans at his stall, and could name all of them (probably had plenty of practice throughout the day). He told us that he'd sell any of us a scarf if we brought him hot chocolate. (He was working alone and couldn't leave.) So, I took him up on it. Apparently nobody else during the day took his offer, perhaps thinking he was kidding. But sure enough, when I brought him hot chocolate he let me take my pick of any scarf I wanted. Since I knew nothing about any clans and was picking purely on color alone, I went with the Douglas clan. 

    After that, it was almost time to head to the bus station. We stopped in a Costa to eat some bread and dip we'd bought at the market, and have a couple hot drinks. We talked about what our family Christmas traditions were and had a good time. On the bus home, I introduced Michael to Mannheim Steamroller's Christmas album (AKA the best Christmas album known to mankind). It was my first listen of the season, which made me a combination of "warm and fuzzy" and homesick. I was happy to have someone around to enjoy the music with me. And of course, he loved them! (Who wouldn't?)

     We arrived back in London at around 6AM. We all sleepily parted ways and headed for our beds. It was a good weekend. 

      Now I suppose I should give a generic update on life in England. I was happy with my scores on last semester's finals, and hopefully I can do even better this semester! The weather is finally getting Spring-like! I can actually open my window, and the sun is out! Let's see, what else...I spent a week over Easter with Jake and his family, which was a great time. I got a job as a student ambassador, which is a LOT of fun (and pays well, so that's a nice bonus) and I applied to be an international student ambassador as well.

      Oh, and I also got accepted into the MFA program here....  :)  This means, FAFSA and visa willing, I will be staying in England for another year. My program now ends in September 2016. Surprise!

      Basically, if all works out, there will be plenty more adventures to come. The next few stories will all take place within England. I am going to a Zelda Orchestra next week, and at the end of this month there's a Sherlock convention (why not?). At the end of May, I'm attending London Comic Con and will be dusting off my cosplay once again. Little adventures, but fun ones.

      That's all for now. I'm off to do some really exciting student stuff, like laundry. Have a wonderful day, everyone!

Poland: Transportation Havoc and The Adventures Therein

(Fear not: Scotland post is coming. I just wanted to write Poland first while it's fresh in my mind. We'll backtrack next week! Now, on to Poland!)


      Not many weekends can start with "I'm heading to Surbiton Station!" and end with "Now I'm examining a mysterious hole in the inner-thigh region of my jeans while riding in the backseat of a kind stranger's car," but this one did...this one did. Ladies and gentleman: Poland.

Hello! You found the compass!

      After a very hectic night doing last-minute essay writing for my final exams, I got a solid two hours of sleep before leaving for Surbiton Station to catch a 4:25AM bus to Clapham Junction. Planning the trip could have been better executed, but as I was busy with essay-writing (as was my travel companion, Jo) I left most of the planning for the night before. It was stressful, but I got it done. I arranged our journey into London, our transport from London to Stansted, and a car to take us to our hotel in Warsaw from Modlin Airport. Everything was in place, we just had to get our sluggish brains moving.

      That early in the morning, trains to London Victoria are few and far between. From what information I could find, we would have ten minutes to run from Victoria Station to catch our bus. It is possible, but certainly not fun after little sleep. We met at Surbiton Station and discovered that there was track construction going on, and we would be taken to Clapham Junction by bus instead. I'd done that before and knew we would still have enough time to catch our connection train, so all went well. We arrived at Clapham Junction just early enough to catch a different train than intended, meaning that not only did we not have to wait at Clapham for 40 minutes, but we also wouldn't have to sprint to our bus. All seemed to be going well. We got to London Victoria about half an hour ahead of schedule, so we grabbed some food and hot drinks before walking to the bus station.

    That's when things went downhill.

     I noticed that our tickets were for a bus company called Terravision, not National Express. All of the buses showing up were National Express. I decided to ask a driver if he knew where Terravision was. He gave us directions to a nearby tunnel. Seemed sketchy, but sure enough we found the bus stop and even double-checked our tickets to make sure we were in the right place. It was confirmed on the ticket that we were at a Terravision stop, so we sat and waited. And waited. And finally, when our bus showed up ten minutes late, it didn't stop; it drove right past us, despite us standing up and clearly looking lost. Turns out we were at the wrong stop, and we were supposed to be at a stop in front of a nearby building. Absolutely nothing on the ticket told us this. The one crew member from Terravision I found said that the next bus came at 7, and getting to the airport would take about an hour and a half. Our plane was set to leave at 8:30, so the bus option was out. Left with little choice, we hailed a black cab and asked how much it would cost. The driver told us that normally it would be 150 pounds, but he would do it for 120. We told him we couldn't reasonably afford that, so he negotiated down to 100. Fifty pounds each. With really no other choice, as missing the plane would probably be bad, we begrudgingly got into the cab and wept internally for the loss our wallets endured. 

    Airport arrival went relatively smoothly. There were rude people in the security line who would push people out of their way so they could move ahead faster. (Clearly they didn't understand the concept of "this is a queue" or "everyone is tired and we despise you.") Besides that, we got to the Ryanair gate with ease. That's when I remembered someone had told me that Ryanair is almost always delayed. It's true. We started boarding when we were supposed to be taking off. When we were finally on the plane, I took one picture and fell into restless sleep.

     We got to Modlin, breezed through customs, and met with the driver who would take us to our hotel. His name was Chris. He barely spoke English, but had a very friendly smile and looked strangely similar to my Uncle Ed. As we drove through Warsaw, he would point out places we should go and talk a bit about Warsaw history. I noticed that our friends KFC and Pizza Hut had made it to Poland as well, and Jo and I wondered why KFC was so popular. (There are certainly better and cheaper places for chicken!) When we got to our hotel, the Campanile Warsaw, we took much-needed naps, showered, and watched the news while deciding our next plan of action. By then it was nighttime, so we went out in search of Polish food. It was as we were walking around that we became aware that an English-To-Polish phrasebook might have come in handy. Luckily there were enough people who spoke some English for us to not be completely helpless tourists. We found a place on (what we think translates to) New Street, got seats in the windows and ate pierogies with meat. We didn't know exactly what the meat was, but the fact that it tasted similar to haggis was a bit of a turn-off for me (it's decent, but I'm not a huge fan of it). I made it my mission to try pierogi ruskie, the ones with just cheese and onions. (I would fulfill that goal, but not until Sunday night.) That about wrapped up our tiring Friday night.

     Saturday morning was an early one. We woke up at 4AM to shower, dress, and wait outside for our taxi. It would be our longest, saddest, most important, and most fun (though the "fun" came later) day in Poland: we were going to tour the Auschwitz and Birkenau concentration camps. Our taxi arrived at 5AM and, to our happy surprise, Chris (or Polish Uncle Ed as I secretly called him) was our driver again! He took us to the train station, handed us our tickets, and waved goodbye from the platform as we sped off towards Krakow. I slept pretty much the entire way, and when we arrived we were met by another driver who took us to Auschwitz. Here begins the history lesson from Auschwitz...

     One of the first things we learned about Auschwitz was that, contrary to popular belief, the first prisoners to stay here were German. They were already criminals in Germany and the public were told that Auschwitz was a kind of work prison, hence the phrase over the entrance to the camp. It also held Soviet prisoners of war and Polish political prisoners. If a Polish prisoner escaped, their family members were arrested and brought to Auschwitz until the fugitive was found. The family would stand under a sign announcing why they'd been arrested so that other prisoners knew the consequences of their escape.

      As more prisoners arrived, the SS knew that they would need bigger buildings to house the growing population. They put the prisoners to work digging foundations, carrying bricks, and laying cement to create what is now blocks 4-7, 15-17, and 18. Many prisoners died during the work, as they were weak from lack of sleep and poor nutrition. 

      One of the many torments the prisoners went through at Auschwitz was the infamous roll-call. Each morning, the entire population of thousands of prisoners stood at attention in the streets in front of the blocks while the Nazis made sure everyone was accounted for. The roll call could last for hours.

      

      Our tour brought us to Block 4, which has been turned into the "Extermination" section of the tour. Here, we saw photos and read documents on how the Nazis went about exterminating any "undesirable" people, such as Jews, gypsies, homosexuals, the handicapped, and people of all sorts of nationalities.

      Lots of info coming at you...

      Auschwitz was the largest Nazi death camp. In the years 1940 - 1945, the Nazis deported at least 1,300,000 people to Auschwitz. They were made of:

      1,100,000 Jews

         140,000 - 150,000 Poles

           23,000 Roma (Gypsies) 

           15,000 Soviet Prisoners of War

           25,000 Prisoners from other ethnic groups.

      1,100,000 of these people died in Auschwitz. Approximately 90% of these victims were Jews. The SS murdered the majority of them in gas chambers. 

      When prisoners arrived by railway, they were sorted by gender and then into groups "fit for work" and "unfit for work." Those found unfit were immediately taken to the gas chambers. Those to be gassed were told they were going to take a bath. They were led to a room with dummy shower heads on the ceiling. On the way, they were told to undress and pick up shampoo and towels, so as not to arouse suspicion. 2,000 victims were crammed into the 251 sq. yard area. When people began getting nervous and tried to leave, they would find the door had been locked behind them. The room was kept warm so the chemical reaction that creates the deadly gas could occur. Zyklon B was poured into the chamber, and after 15-20 minutes the door would open. Nazis had prisoners do the dirty work of stripping victims of gold teeth, hair, earrings, and rings, before destroying their personal documents and taking their bodies to the crematory.

      You may be wondering why the Nazis wanted the victim's hair. As it turns out, killing people by the thousands was a lucrative business for them. They would sell the hair to textile manufacturers for more than the cost of running the gas chambers, giving them a profit on the side. It was ethnic cleansing and a morbid business model. Though no pictures are allowed, there is a room in Auschwitz where visitors can see literal tons of human hair that the Nazis had cut off victims to sell. The hair was found by the camp's liberators. 

      Going back to women for a minute (I'm doing things in order I learned them on the tour, so I apologize if the information seems spastic): though being a woman often meant being immediately gassed, there were designated women's blocks in Auschwitz. From March 26 1942 until August of that year, blocks 1-10 were used as a camp for women prisoners. It was separated from the men's camp by a high wall. About 17,000 women were housed there. During those months, a few thousand women died either in the gas chambers or as a result of poor conditions in the camp (starvation, lack of sanitary facilities, slave labor, rampant epidemics). Anyone still alive in August was transported to the new main women's camp in Auschwitz II - Birkenau. Then, from April 1943 to May 1944, a few hundred women prisoners were held in block 10 of Auschwitz. These women, mainly Jewish, were held in two upstairs rooms and used as human guinea-pigs in sterilization experiments conducted by German gynecologist Doctor Carl Clauberg. Some women died from their treatments, while others were murdered so the doctor could conduct autopsies to further his work. Those who survived were left with permanent damage. After the war, he reinstated his private practice yet continued to openly boast about the "achievements" he made in Auschwitz. Due to public outcry from victims, he was arrested in 1955 but died of a heart attack before going on trial.

 

      Between blocks 10 and 11, the SS shot several thousand people at a wall in the back of a courtyard. Most of those executed were Polish political prisoners, and the leaders and members of clandestine organizations and people who helped escapees. Poles sentenced to death in nearby towns were also brought there to be shot, including men, women, and children who were taken hostage in revenge for Polish resistance. Prisoners of other nationalities and Soviet prisoners of war were also shot there.

     Camp authorities designated blocks 19-21 (19 seen above) and 28 as "infirmaries" for sick prisoners. Among prisoners they were known as "crematorium waiting rooms". Medication and treatment facilities were in short supply and many people died anyway. Occasionally, the sick were sorted and those who could reasonably return to work were forced to. Those with little hope of recovery were killed by gas or lethal injection. 

     After our tour of Auschwitz, we took a quick bus ride over to Birkenau. Birkenau became the main extermination camp, as it contained four gas chambers and crematoriums. I was surprised at how much land Birkenau rested on. I'd pictured it being smaller for some reason. Most of Birkenau is in ruins now, though; Once word of liberation reached the Nazis there, they tried to burn down the buildings and destroy any evidence of what happened there. 

     One of the gas chambers we got close to was called Gas Chamber and Crematorium III. Several hundred thousand Jewish men, women, and children were murdered there by gas and then burned. The crematorium was also use to dispose of bodies of people who died in the camp for other reasons. It operated from June 1943 to November 1944. As the Nazis wanted to remove evidence of the atrocities that happened, they began to dismantle it and used dynamite to destroy what was left in 1945.

      Near those ruins, we came across a memorial to the victims of Auschwitz and Birkenau. There were plaques all down the memorial in many different languages, all saying the same thing:

      As our tour looped around Birkenau and headed back to the exit, we passed more ruins and got to go into one of the still-standing barracks. Our guide told us that each bunk was supposed to hold four people, but usually would have six or eight per level. The unlucky people on the bottom level had to sleep in excrement. When walking through the barracks, I gently put my hand on the edge of one of the wooden bunks... it was like touching the physical manifestation of horror. It's difficult to even begin to imagine what went on in Auschwitz and Birkenau, or how any human was able to do such terrible things to others.

      When we left Birkenau, I turned to Jo and asked, "Warm food and good vodka?" She agreed that both were necessary after the cold, depressing day. We were given five hours of free time in Krakow to do as we pleased, so we made finding food priority one (we hadn't eaten since waking up at 4am, and it was around 3pm when the tour ended). We found our way to the main square of Krakow, which is gorgeous, and from there found a restaurant called No. 7.

       Now, I should mention that currency conversion was in our favor. 10 pounds could, and did, get us a feast in Poland. At this restaurant, I wanted to get some dishes marked as Krakow specialties. I ordered the zlocisty rosol kaczo-wolowy (thankfully English was provided) to start. This soup dish is duck and beef broth with noodles, carrots, and parsley, and it was divine, especially on a chilly day. For my main dish, I ordered kotlet schabowy, which was a pork cutlet served with fried cabbage and Krakow potatoes (potatoes with caramelized onions). The dish that came out made my jaw drop: it was the size of my face. You think I'm joking, but look at this:

       If you're in Krakow, go to No. 7. You will not regret it.

       Bellies full and spirits restored, we went outside to see what we could see before we had to get to the train station. By the time we'd finished eating, nighttime had fallen on the city. Made for some pretty pictures! We explored the square, went to a cool market in a tunnel in that main building in the square, then went to the galleria mall (conveniently attached to the train station).

       After killing time by window-shopping and eating ice cream, we got on the train and discovered that our tickets gave us one of those Harry Potter-like rooms all to ourselves. So, of course, we each claimed a set of seats and promptly fell asleep. I would like to go on a long train ride again in sometime, especially in one of those cars; being rocked to sleep by the train was very peaceful.

       We met Chris at the station yet again, and he drove us back to our hotel. We got back at around 11PM, put on the news again, lazed around until falling asleep. We both agreed that we really liked Krakow and wished we'd had more time there. Maybe someday.

      Sunday: Our last day in Poland. We woke up, ate at the hotel breakfast buffet, figured out transportation to Modlin Airport with the help of the receptionist (the website was in Polish), and headed into town. As we had our backpacks with us, we weren't going to do much exploring or wander too far from where the airport buses picked up passengers. Where we did wander, we snapped photos of graffiti (which is EVERYWHERE in Warsaw) and talked about the weekend. We ended up stopping in a Mexican restaurant on New Street for lunchtime fajitas, as trying Mexican food in foreign countries has now become an accidental tradition of mine. (Amsterdam's nachos from The Mexican still win.)

      One of my favorite things that we found in Warsaw, though didn't go into, was this place. From first glance you might think it's a Mexican place, but no...Ladies and gentleman, I give you Amigos American Steakhouse.

       At the end of the day, we got on our bus and headed to Modlin Airport. We ended up catching an earlier bus and getting to the airport three hours early. In bigger international airports, this is usually a good idea. However, Modlin has a whole three gates and it took us ten minutes to pop through security. We did some writing in the airport lounge and waited for our gate to open. I'd bought a bottle of alcohol duty-free, things were great, but then...transportation disaster struck again. That 9:40 flight was gonna be delayed. We figured it was just Ryanair being Ryanair when it was 9:30 and we still hadn't boarded. But then an announcement came on, first in Polish then in English. When the Polish one was done, we saw half of the people at the gate look annoyed so we knew something was wrong. Our plane had been delayed 30 minutes due to bad weather. Not a terrible delay, so all was well. Then, not ten minutes later, another announcement. This time, everyone who spoke Polish loudly groaned. Our plane had been delayed an hour at least. Then another announcement, more loud groaning: anyone who bought alcohol duty-free must return it, as we are being taken to another airport by bus, will go through security there, then leave from there at 12:30. I got in line at duty-free and met a young man named Raphael. He had a Russian accent but had come from Cuba, as he'd been living there for some time. (Father was a diplomat, something along those lines.) We struck up conversation as we returned our alcoholic wares. He was very polite and we talked about school, work, London, typical small talk. I told him I was officially mildly concerned since we would miss the bus from Stansted to London, so on top wasting money on bus tickets I wasn't sure how Jo and I would get home. He asked where we lived, I said Surbiton. In a wonderful happenstance, the woman who was picking Raphael up at the airport lived in Surbiton as well, and she'd be going there after dropping him off. He said he was sure she wouldn't mind giving us a ride, and called to ask. With a backup plan in place, I thanked Raphael profusely. We got out of the line and headed back to the main terminal of Modlin where I introduced Raphael to Jo. Jo, as it turns out, also met a Russian while she was taking a smoking break. His name was Nikita. So me, Jo, Nikita, and Raphael sat in the Modlin terminal and told stories as if we were camping while waiting for our bus to come. We all hit it off fabulously. When the bus finally did arrive, we eagerly got on and kept talking all the way back to the main Warsaw airport. Once we got there, we found out our plane was delayed again and we weren't leaving until 1:45AM. Raphael and I went to grab something to eat at the one place that was open. As it turns out, they had pierogi ruskie! Me and Raphael each ordered some and they got promptly devoured. It was at the last possible minute, but I got my yummy pierogies.

      The plane ride was smooth, at least. When we arrived at 4AM, I found out I was right in thinking that the Stansted Express wasn't running. Jo and I took up Raphael's offer and got a ride with him and a nice older woman back to Surbiton. In the car, I noticed a mysterious hole in the inner thigh area of my jeans. I had no idea when it got there or how, as it wasn't even on a seam. Overall, I was too tired to care; It must have been 7AM when we were finally in Surbiton.

     So that's how I found myself examining a mysterious hole in the inner-thigh region of my jeans while riding in the backseat of a kind stranger's car. You now know the story. Well done for making it this far, reader. For now, farewell. (Leave comments! I like them!)
      

      Final aside: The publishing of this blog falls on the 70th anniversary of the liberation of Auschwitz. Please take a moment of silence to remember the atrocities of that time.

Amsterdam, Bruges, and Friendsgiving

Hello! You found the compass!

      Welcome back! As promised, I have plenty of stories to tell from my first adventure out of the country.
   
      After a night of literally no sleep (I stayed up all night talking with a friend) my alarm went off at 5am on November 14th. The time had come to roll out of bed, throw on my backpack (which I'd had the foresight to pack the night before), and sleepily make my way to Waterloo Station to meet the rest of the travel group. This trip was planned through Proscenium Tours, the same company which took me and Amy to Wales last time. I found our tour group next to a woman giving out clementines, a welcome snack so early in the morning. There, I met with Michael, Alexsa, Casey, and Steph. The whole tour group was big enough to warrant three coach buses. Luckily, all Kingston students were put together. I claimed Michael as my bus-buddy and pillow, and we slept until the coaches arrived in Dover. This meant, of course, getting to finally see the famous white cliffs of Dover!

      We got to Dover earlier than expected. Initially we were supposed to catch an 11:00 ferry to Calais, but arrived early enough to possibly catch the 10:00. The tour guide briefly left the bus to ask if we could be let on. When she came back, she was smiling and shaking her head as she turned on the intercom.

      "The good news is: We're on the earlier ferry! The bad news is: the French are on strike,so this journey might take longer than expected."

      (Apparently the French are on strike frequently? I cannot confirm or deny this information. What I CAN confirm is that the French border patrol is laughably relaxed. A French border patrol officer simply came on the bus, asked everyone to open their passports to a blank page, and walked through the bus giving us all stamps. No I.D. checks or anything.)

      So we did get the early ferry, but what should have been a 90 minute ferry ride ended up taking five hours due to the strike. Most of that time was spent waiting to dock at Calais. However, we made the most of our time by exploring the ferry and playing Quarters.

       Now, I went into this knowing very little about Calais. The only reason I knew of Calais' existence as a gateway to France via the English Channel was because of Monty Python's Flying Circus. Specifically, the episode where Mister Ron Obvious is attempting to jump the English Channel. When asked how far it was from his location to France, he replied, "Well, it's 26 miles from here to Calais!"

      There began and ended my knowledge of Calais. 

      When we finally arrived and got back in the bus, the tour guide welcomed us to France. (Though I don't count driving through Calais as having "been to France.") Just outside of the port, the tour guide told us that if we looked out our windows, we would see the illegal immigrants trying to get to the U.K. I somehow expected it was a joke, but sure enough there were at least fifteen people running across the highway, dodging traffic, trying to get into the port. Police officers chased them on land while more police cars screamed by to try to cut them off. Many are refugees from Sudan and Syria, others come from Eritrea and Ethiopia. Despite the French asking England for help with the issue, England has repeatedly dismissed it as a French problem. The immigrants live in camps near the port, routinely trying to hop on trucks to get into a ferry and across the channel. According to this article from the BBC, at least three immigrants were killed by cars on the week of November fifth. It is an ongoing problem that neither country seems to have a good handle on, from a political or humanitarian standpoint. (But this is the internet, and therefore I shall not input my own opinion on such matters.)

      After driving through Belgium (which the tour group would stop in on the way back to Calais), we arrived, much later than expected, in Amsterdam. I had a quick shower before meeting with my group and heading into the city center at around 11pm. (Our hotel was a quick train or bus ride away.) 

      We had absolutely no idea where anything was, so we just started walking in search of food. It was only about fifty feet outside of the train station when, in unison, we all stopped, deeply inhaled, and said, "Yep, we're definitely in Amsterdam."

      The smell of marijuana had arrived. (As had some beautiful buildings.)

      The smell lingers just about everywhere. There's hardly a street without at least one "coffee shop" on it. Coffee shops in Amsterdam do sell coffee, but are much more famous for being cannabis dispensaries. Several of the ones we passed were filled with smoke which poured out into the streets they faced. It was almost surreal, seeing how easy and acceptable it was to obtain marijuana. I thought that was the only drug that was easy to get, but I would be proven wrong during our second trip into the city. But I'm getting ahead of myself. 

     We managed to find food at a Mexican restaurant called...The Mexican. (Real creative.) Now, a Mexican restaurant in Amsterdam probably sounds incredibly sketchy. Somehow, though, it was some of the best Mexican food we'd ever had. When our stomachs were satisfied, we traveled back into the streets to explore the city some more.

      As we walked along the canal-divided streets at midnight, one would think it was still early evening for all of the activity going on. Friday night in Amsterdam meant parties, smoking, more smoking, and maybe another party. The streets were packed. We poked our heads into one coffee shop which smelled like California (hah). It was selling all sorts of varieties of marijuana (which meant nothing to someone as foreign to weed as I am) and playing music by The Weeknd (appropriate, given the content of his lyrics). Despite all agreeing that, generally, "green lights mean good and red lights mean bad," we walked into an alley with red lights the second we saw it. There were plenty of other people in said alley, so it wasn't like we were heading into a murder scene.

     We were heading into the Red Light District instead.

       I don't know why I was expecting it to be more obvious but, depending on how one enters it, the district can just seemingly jump out of nowhere. One minute we were walking along a canal smelling nothing but marijuana and waffles, the next we were in a red-tinted alley with prostitutes standing behind glass doors, modeling like mannequins and waiting for Johns to come knocking. Those prostitutes are everywhere. We got to the other end of the alley and the street we came out on was lined with more prostitute doors, theaters showing live sex shows, shops filled with sex toys, parlors offering massages of the erotic variety, and so on. Some of the prostitutes had signs in their windows listing their "specialties" or things they may be more into. A sampling of the signs we passed: erotic couples massages, girl on girl, BDSM. (Don't Google that if you don't know what it is. Allow a seasoned veteran of the internet to enlighten you: Bondage, Dominance, Sadism, Masochism. It is not, however, 50 Shades of Grey. That's what we call abusive relationships. But I digress...) That last one was, somehow fittingly, down a darker alley off of the main street. Also on that alley were women that were, judging by the impressive bulges in their underwear, transvestites. There is something for everyone in the Red Light District, so long as you're looking for sex. For us, it was simply an unforgettable look into a large industry of the sinful city of Amsterdam. After finding our way back to the station and figuring out the bus route home (since it was 2am, the trains had stopped running) we got back to the hotel and passed out in extremely comfortable beds. (Thank you, Crown Plaza Hotel!)

      Saturday was an early day. After a solid six hours of sleep (much needed), I went downstairs to the breakfast buffet to fuel up for a day of traveling. The breakfast was impressive. I think I ate two platefuls of food. Eggs, fruit, croissants, bacon, miniature pancakes, the buffet had it all! (It kept me full all day and until a late dinner that night.) The plan for Saturday was to hop back on the coach and see Volendam and Edam before heading back into the Amsterdam city center.

      Our first stop, Volendam, was a pretty little place. It is a fishing village, so many restaurants offer seafood as specialties. If we had been hungry, I'm sure we would have indulged. Instead, we used the brief hour in the village to take pictures and explore the Museum of Cheese, which was in the basement of a large cheese shop.

While in Volendam, we came across a market that was similar to the ones in Kingston. Different stalls sold everything from candy to clothes, local foods to notebooks, and, of course, cheese. Lots of cheese.

      The hour in Volendam flew by, and we were herded back onto our coach buses and taken to Edam. As usual, I slept on Michael for the duration of the journey. (I was still recovering from the all-nighter on Thursday.) When I woke up, this was the beautiful sight I was greeted with:

      Edam was even smaller than Volendam. Edam is famous for its cheese, so naturally we were going to have to sample and purchase some. We only had about 40 minutes in Edam, so we used it to take plenty of pictures around the streets. Most of mine didn't come out too well, but I hope you enjoy them!

      The group sampled a variety of cheeses and settled on one we all liked the flavor of. Michael purchased a small wheel of it, and we would indulge later that night. In the meantime, we got back on the bus and were taken back into the center of Amsterdam. This time, we had the entire afternoon and evening ahead of us to explore.

      Myself, Michael, Alexsa, Casey, and Steph all had at least one similar goal in mind: visit the Anne Frank Museum. We managed to find it and, after waiting in line in the rain for about an hour and a half, we finally got inside. It was well worth the wait, and anyone visiting Amsterdam absolutely must see the museum. It was probably the most moving, intense, and powerful experience I've ever had. (No photos allowed, so I have no pictures.) The museum is in the actual building where Otto Frank, Anne's father and the only survivor of the immediate family, had a business. The Secret Annex was hidden in the upper levels of the building, behind a movable bookshelf. Museum guests get to walk through the business, pass by the bookshelf (kept in the same condition as it was in the 1940's), and enter the annex where Anne, her family, and others stayed hidden. The rooms are kept empty on purpose: after the war, Otto Frank wanted the room kept as the Nazis left them. Each room has different quotes from Anne's diary on the walls, along with videos of interviews with people such as Otto and other helpers of the family. Being inside the annex, walking through the doorways they walked through and touching the cabinets they touched, was incredibly moving. Despite living 70-odd years ahead of the events that consumed Anne's world, being in that annex while seeing and hearing a video of Hitler making a passionate speech to a massive, cheering army was truly terrifying. I have never had such a gripping sense of dread and fear come over me. The whole museum was an extremely emotional experience. Michael and I walked through it together, hardly saying any words while we passed pencil marks on the walls where Anne's mother measured her height or looking at pictures Anne plastered on her bedroom wall to make it more homey. By the end, seeing her diary and many other pages of her writing, we were both teary eyed and no doubt shared the feeling of having a heavy weight on our chests. The feeling only went away after stepping outside, taking a deep breath, and reuniting with Steph, Alexsa, and Casey. (They had somehow gotten ahead of us in the museum.) 

      After such a heavy experience, it was time to go out into the city and see what we could find. Earlier in this post, I mentioned that I thought weed was the only tolerated drug and that I was proved wrong. This was when that happened. We found a shop that sold smoothies, milkshakes, and cookies...all of which were infused with drugs. The milkshakes were made with hemp ice, the cookies and brownies were cannabis desserts, and customers could choose from a variety of herbs to add to smoothies (anything from hemp, of course, to hallucinogens). Here's a glimpse into our time at the shop and the variety of things sold:

      Yes, apparently not only is weed easy to buy, but so is ecstasy, mushrooms, and a derivative of cocaine which people usually drink in a shot. Amsterdam, you outdo yourself.

      After purchasing approximately nothing exciting (yes, parents, I behaved), we headed down the street to a place that didn't sell drugs, but might as well have hit us with ecstasy. It was a shop that sold house-made chocolate, various flavors of gelato, and waffles. Now, I thought I was happy with my scoop of lemon cake gelato...

...but then Casey and Alexsa called me over to try what they had ordered: a waffle with warm white chocolate drizzled on top. Michael and I tried a bite, and our immediate reaction was to embrace. We'd both reached a new level of spiritual bliss through this waffle. I kid you not, it was the best thing any of us have ever tasted. I've never had a waffle like it: it was very much a dessert item. It was melt-in-your-mouth moist, soft, just the right amount of sweet, and nice and warm. The white chocolate drizzle added a perfect touch of sweet, chocolatey goodness without being overpowering. We "joked" that Jesus himself had mixed the waffle batter and angels blessed the white chocolate (that's probably exactly how it works, otherwise those couldn't possibly taste that good). There will never be a better appetizer before dinner. We could have just eaten our dinner there, but decided it was best to find another sit-down restaurant and relax. We ended up in a tapas place that was a bit pricy for us, but had pretty good food. Nothing could beat the waffles, though.

      

      We didn't go back into the Red Light District that night. We ended up going back to the hotel at a reasonable time in hopes of getting a good night of sleep before having to wake up early again to head out to Bruges, Belgium.  Before going to bed, however, we had some Edam cheese to eat. We all gathered in Michael and Casey's bedroom, "cut" up pieces of cheese with a spoon (the one piece of cutlery we had), drank pre-made rum and cokes from cans or wine out of plastic glasses, and watched a documentary on PCP use in Washington D.C. Clearly we had a very classy wine and cheese night.

     Before going to sleep, I took a long bath in a tub that was bigger than my dorm bathroom. I was happy, my injured tendon was blissful, and I was able to sleep in complete relaxation.

      Sunday morning began with a sad goodbye to the delicious breakfast buffet. Once again, the group stocked up on calories early to tide us over for most of the day. We took off for Bruges, a beautiful town in Belgium filled with cathedrals, horse-drawn carriages, and (naturally) plenty of places to purchase chocolate and waffles. We did try waffles with whipped cream when we got there. The waffles were far superior to anything I've tried in the states, but even these Belgian waffles couldn't edge out the perfectly cooked disciples of food angels that were the Amsterdam ones. (At this point you may think I'm exaggerating. In reality, I'm attempting to use humor to describe how honestly, stupidly good those waffles were.)

      Running around Bruges was a good time. We sampled various chocolates (not a single one was disappointing), and found a shop that was known for selling chocolates in quirky flavors such as bacon, cannabis (can't escape it, can we?), sake, cola, or wasabi.

     Before departing, we grabbed some sandwiches for lunch that perfectly hit the spot. I saved half of mine, a chicken pesto panini, for the ferry ride home.

     The ferry ride home took the normal amount of time (90 minutes) which we spent playing quarters, sharing funny stories, and having a couple of drinks. I slept for most of the coach ride home, waking up just as the London Eye came into view. I parted ways with Steph, Michael, and Casey in Waterloo Station, and Alexsa and I took the train back to Surbiton before walking back to our respective homes. I am so thankful for having such great company for this amazing, funny, unforgettable weekend in mainland Europe.

      This has already been quite the long post! I'll speak quickly about the fun-filled "Friendsgiving" we had last night. Naturally, the Americans I know all wanted to celebrate Thanksgiving in a country that doesn't. We would be in class the night of actual Thanksgiving, so we decided it would be easier to celebrate the Saturday night before. Ben and Karli graciously hosted at their flat. It was a potluck dinner, and all of the food we ate was very satisfying (well done, all chefs!). We had a turkey, vegetarian stuffing, regular stuffing, vegetarian gravy, regular gravy, cranberry sauce, peas, green bean casserole, salad, nut loaf, fourteen pounds of mashed potatoes (not kidding), pumpkin pie, gluten free individual apple pies, pecan pie, ice cream, cheesecake, and probably even more that I'm forgetting.

      After the obligatory post-dinner food comas and naps, we tucked into dessert and somehow managed to eat even more. Once we were done clearing the table and turning the makeshift dining room back into a living room, we decorated the Christmas Tree and posed with our official Christmas mascot, Frank the flasher muppet. 

      To commemorate such a wonderful evening, we decided to take a group photo with the tree. Of course, we had to pose like Frank for one...

...but we managed to get quite a nice smiling picture, too. Thank you for the tasty meal and the awesome night, everyone!

      For those of you who actually read this through to the end: Thank you, too! You're all my favorite. This wraps up my journey to mainland Europe and the belt-loosening meal that was Friendsgiving. This coming weekend I'm heading to Scotland, so that will bring my next blog post when I can. (Final essays are coming up, so depending on my schedule there might be a slight delay with writing that one.) Now, I think it's time for me to eat some Thanksgiving leftovers, give my dad a birthday Skype chat (HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DAD! Your card is somewhere in the world, trying to get to you as fast as mail carriers allow!), and look forward to a second Thanksgiving meal tomorrow, this time with the Connect UK International Student Society! Until next time...cheers!

Remember, Remember, The Fifth Of November...

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Today is the famous Fifth of November! To make a long history short: the Fifth of November (also known as Guy Fawkes Day or Bonfire Night) celebrates the time when on November 5, 1605, a plot to blow up Parliament was foiled. They celebrate the fact that Parliament did not explode by setting off explosives all across the country. (Wait, what?)

Fun fact: Fireworks are legal! I can buy them in the grocery store!

Guy Fawkes had taken barrels filled with gunpowder into Parliament, but was caught before he could detonate them. Fawkes, a Catholic, planned on killing the Protestant King James and putting Princess Elizabeth on the throne instead. (Interestingly, many people misinterpret Fawkes' intentions. He is often celebrated as an anarchist, when in fact he just wanted to put a different religion in charge. The mix-up is probably due to the movie V For Vendetta, where a man in a Guy Fawkes mask wants to blow up Parliament in the name of anarchy.) After Fawkes was captured, he was tortured in the Tower of London until he revealed the names of his co-conspirators. All were hung and quartered, though Fawkes was spared the agony of being quartered because his neck snapped from the hanging. So...plus side?

The Guy Fawkes masks were made post-beard-trimming, apparently.

I realize I haven't updated this in about a month, so let's see what's new...Well, to celebrate being in England for one month, me and my flatmates had a big dinner. Sandra kindly cooked up a Mexican feast, and it was mighty tasty!

Yes.

So much yes.

This past weekend was fairly busy. On Halloween I went with some friends to the campus bar where there was a dance and a costume contest. I met some great people and had a wonderful time! (I was dressed as Harley Quinn.) Saturday night, I went up to Alexandra Palace for a night of fireworks and a German beer festival! I hadn't heard of Alexandra Palace until getting invited to go to it. The palace, lovingly known as Ally Pally, was built in 1873 and has survived two fires since then. It is open to the public as an entertainment venue. Located on a high hill north of London, the grounds surrounding the palace offer spectacular views of the city. The history of the palace includes such events as hosting the first television broadcast and being an internment camp for German, Hungarian, and Austrian civilians in World War I. When we went, the grounds were covered in food vendors and carnival rides. We didn't manage the best view of the fireworks, but the show was still enjoyable. 

Phone camera isn't great in low light, but that's London.

And there's Ally Pally!

After the show, we went into the palace to check out the beer festival! Even being fully aware of the size of the building, I did not expect to walk into what we did. The first room was big enough, and filled with beer and German food vendors. It also had a little turf area in the middle of the room where there were benches, an area to dance, and a band.

At first I thought that was that was the only festival room, which was cool and would've been fun on its own. Then we found the real beer hall...

This isn't even the very back of the room.

It was enormous! There was a German band, people wearing lederhosen, pretzels for sale, and even more beer and schnapps for our consumption. We learned a German dance and sang along to some decidedly-not-German-but-still-fun songs such as Hey Jude and Bohemian Rhapsody. When the German band was done, an Oasis cover band called Noasis came on stage. They did very well! 

As close to the brothers Gallagher as I'll get!

That's about all of the exciting news I have from England. There should be more to come as I have two weekend trips definitely happening this month: Amsterdam and Scotland!

It was suggested that I discuss on here what a typical week in England is like. Despite trying to keep busy I don't think my typical week would be too exciting, but here it goes: I only have classes on Tuesday and Thursday evenings. After class, the writers tend to go out to a pub together to relax and, more often than not, discuss writing. I am a member of the Kingston University Video Game Society, or KUVegas for short, the Kingston Anime, Sci Fi, and Tabletop society (KAST, which seems to be a rival of KUVegas despite a few people like me rolling with both) and the Connect UK International Society. Every Wednesday, the International Society will put on a free lunch for us, and occasionally will have different events. For the Wednesday before Halloween, we met up and played a party game called Werewolf. The werewolves won, and here's our winning team picture:

KAST and KUVegas have events throughout the week as well. KUVegas has meet-ups every Tuesday night at a pub where games are played and good times are had. They also occasionally host LAN parties, stream game tournaments, and other such things. They have competitive teams in both Call of Duty and League of Legends. They also recently got officially sponsored by X-Box, so there you go! We're official!

KAST has a bunch of things going on throughout the week, from board/tabletop game nights (my personal favorite, as I love those kinds of games), to anime screenings, to bad movie screenings, and more. As I'm new to the society, I haven't been to many of their events yet. I didn't plan on joining, but it was highly recommended that I become one of them after Halloween; that dance I went to where I was dressed as Harley Quinn was put on by them. They then proceeded to "kidnap" me to one of their houses where we had a great time listening to music and watching funny Youtube videos, so I was won over and joined.

Smirks and smiles all around!

Outside of those societies, I'm part of the A Cappella group when I can be. Scheduling conflicts have limited my time with them, unfortunately. I did manage to get the position of Student Representative for my degree. That just means that occasionally another woman and I get called to faculty meetings to discuss student issues brought up within our course. I've gathered quite the list of issues right now, for better or worse, so hopefully at the next meeting I can help set things in motion to see some overall improvement for myself, my peers, and future Kingston writers. 

All that aside, I do homework, I read, I write, I go grocery shopping, and I go to the pub. Life is good. And when I need a place to crash, I have my Hobbit Hole (also known now as the Ship's Cabin) to go home to. For those who asked for a tour to see just how small the room is, here you are:

(Apologies for vertical-cam. I wasn't thinking when I filmed it and I'm too tired to re-film.)

There you have it! Standard life in England. Actually, looking back on it, my typical week is pretty darn cool. I like it.

Tomorrow I have some errands that I really need to run (getting a cheap U.K. phone and a bank account, for example) but I might go into central for a little while to have fun. I'd like to go at some point soon, as it's been awhile since I've run around there. The Museum of London has a Sherlock Holmes exhibit going on right now which I would love to see. I'd also like to get back to that awesome cookie place (Ben's, yum) and do some strolling around the city. The next update won't be as far away because, if nothing else, I'll have a weekend in Amsterdam to write about come the night of the 16th. Until next time...Cheers!

Exploring London: Pubs, Lounges, Portobello Round Two, and Diwali

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The days since I last published have been busy! Our family of creative writing MA/MFA-ers have been routinely hitting the pubs together and exchanging writing ideas. Several of us decided that we would like to start an official Kingston University writing group, so we went ahead and began that process. A friend of mine also wanted an A Capella group on campus and she has started creating that society as well (and I am the media officer, woohoo!). In class, I got my first bit of creative writing critiqued. Thankfully, I got excellent feedback and constructive criticism. Overall, the piece seemed well received. Whew. Between classes, trips into London (which you can read about below), trips to the pub, and lack of sleep (thank you, genetics), I occasionally wanted to relax and have a soda with a mate. So here is a brief glimpse into one of my quiet afternoons:

It's a Moogle. His name is Pipup.

One time, I found myself feeling daring when I was bored. I wanted to be feisty and edgy, and try something that was completely illegal in America....So I did.

And I got a Hot Wheels!

 

In my walks to and from the school (which I may have to ease up on, for reasons I'll explain shortly), I've noticed little bits of street art and started photographing them. I only have a few pictures so far, but I think between Surbiton, Kingston, and London, I'll get a good collection going.

Penrhyn Road

Portsmouth Road

Shoreditch. "What were you doing in Shoreditch?" Read on!

Friday night, I went out with some buddies to Shoreditch. I'd heard of the district but hadn't visited. It was allegedly an up-and-coming part of London. My first impression was that it still had a lot of "up" ground to cover. It seemed, quite honestly, like a really sketchy area. Abandoned buildings were all over just about every block, graffiti covered most of the walls (granted, most of it was really cool artwork instead of just tags), and the place just felt strange. As we walked through the streets, heading to a bar that none of us had been to, we came across a darkened building that just said "playroom" outside. I jokingly turned to my flatmate and said how funny it would be if we ended up going in there, like THAT was the famous bar we were looking for.

Turns out, that's exactly what happened.

And it was awesome.

The bar is called Casa Negra. My flatmate was happy that we actually managed to find a Mexican place (she's Hispanic) and, though it was pricey, we all tried out the food. For a random Mexican bar in the middle of a seedy building, it was good! The ambiance of the bar was worth the trip in itself. Paintings of Luchadores covered the walls and the lights were very dim. We were mostly able to see thanks to the nifty candles that were on every table. 

Being college students with better things to do than buy expensive drinks, we left the bar early and headed to a lounge where our time could instead be spent buying cheap drinks. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how we discovered Trapeze: a circus-themed lounge/club in Shoreditch. Tasty drinks were served in carnival cups and made to look like slushies, gymnastics rigging was attached to the ceiling, and the music was so random and catchy that it was hard not to enjoy. We had a great time.

My drink: The Wallbanger of Death.

Oh, yeah, there was a huge disco ball, too.

Bit blurred, but there's the Shoreditch Adventure Crew.

And so ends my Friday in Shoreditch.

Saturday morning, I woke up early to get into London and visit an old friend: Portobello Road. Those who read the blog last time pretty much know what that is, but I'll do a quick recap: Portobello Road is a market that has just about everything. It is three miles of stalls filled with antiques, books, street food, farmer's stalls, clothing, music, jewelry, you get the idea. Saturday is absolutely THE day to go, but I highly recommend either getting there early or late; go midday and you'll have crowds like this for three miles:

The only reason that there's a gap in front of me is because that is the very, very beginning of the road.

Getting there late also means that things are less expensive since vendors are trying to sell! This is especially true with baked goods (which is how my flatmate got a fabulous loaf of French bread for half the regular price).

It was invigorating getting off of the tube at Notting Hill and taking a deep breath of London air. I easily found my way back to the market without maps, and the excitement of being out in the market again made me feel like a puppy going to the park. I felt like I was back in my element and set off down the road. There was so much to see, do, eat, investigate, etc. As always, the market had its share of street musicians. This guy was definitely the most intriguing:

The best way to avoid becoming overwhelmed in Portobello is to focus on one side of the street on the way down, and another on the way back. Even then, though, the crowds, noises, and smells can be very overstimulating and exhausting. By the end of my time there, I was wiped out and down for the count for the rest of the day. I needed the rest, because I knew the next day I'd be one of hundreds in Trafalgar Square celebrating Diwali.

Diwali is a mostly Hindu festival (though other religions, such as the Sikhs, also celebrate in their own way). It celebrates a story in the Ramayana: the return of the lord Rama with his wife Sita, who had been captured by demons. Symbolically, it represents the triumph of light over darkness and good over evil. It gathered a huge crowd in Trafalgar Square (it was a miracle we made our way in there). There was a stage next to the lion statues, where dancers from different schools in London would perform. Lining the square were food stalls and vendors selling jewelry and clothing. Myself and my group stayed for about two hours, eating food and watching the performances. I decided to get food at a stall called Bombay Street Food. I ate two bhajis and an order of mattar paneer with rice. (I had no idea what I was ordering at the time, instead basing my choices on how the food looked.) I was not disappointed; it was all absolutely delicious. I was full of food and bliss. Later, I asked my Indian flatmate what I'd eaten so I could pass it along to this blog; Bhajis are essentially Indian vegetable fritters. Mine were spicy and had onions. Mattar paneer is made with peas and fried cubes of cottage cheese (I couldn't tell what it was when I was eating it, but it sure was good) in a tomato (I think) sauce spiced with masala. I was a happy eater! Mmm...

That was Trafalgar Square.

The National Gallery.

My food. I want more right now.

All of them were being stony-faced, except for the guy in the middle. He kept smiling.

As for why my walks may have to stop: I injured my foot. In truth, I injured it months ago. The top of my left foot would hurt and sometimes bruise in the same spot for no apparent reason. It seemed to get better, so I never got it checked and assumed I'd hit my foot on something. Occasionally I kept noticing it, but it wasn't a big deal at the time. Well, when we were on our way to Diwali, we came to an intersection. Some of the group crossed, and I went to cross after them. A friend holding on to my arm noticed that the light changed and we wouldn't make it across the road on time, so she pulled me back on to the sidewalk. Surprised, I stumbled back and planted my left foot awkwardly. I felt several pops from the top of my foot, followed swiftly by heat and pain. I limped badly for about ten minutes before it settled, but the bruising was certainly back in the same place it had been. If the internet is to be believed (I even did a self-test thing), my left foot has extensor tendonitis. Seems like the solution is ice, rest, and being careful to not tie shoes too tightly. Pretty straightforward, at least. I'm also probably going to pop into the campus gym tomorrow and see if the sports rehab person is around. I have a feeling he or she would know for sure what it is. For now, though, I'll ice it and force myself to take buses (ugh).

That about wraps up this entry! I have no set plans for this week, but I'm working on putting together a few out-of-England adventures for the coming weeks. I'll keep this updated, of course! Until next time...Cheers!