Anarchy in the UK: Dublin

Ok, so Dublin's not actually the UK. Whatever.

Saturday, Jan. 3 - We got a bus down to Larne. We expected it to go straight to Belfast, since we hadn't had to switch buses on the way from Belfast, but we had to wait about half an hour at the Larne bus station. Oh well. There was an oddly nice young man, probably our age or younger, who told us we had to wait, where to get the next bus, and then when the bus actually got there, he helped us load our luggage. Then he was our only company on the back half of the bendy bus that took us back to Belfast. It was nice, but slightly odd. Other occurances on the ride? At some point we stopped for about ten minutes in some town to switch drivers. As we were waiting on the bus, this older gentleman came by, leading his pet goat by a chain. It was a tad unexpected, and kept us amused until the bus departed.

Once we got to Belfast, Erica and Alex ran to get in line for the bus to Dublin while I ran to the ticket counter to buy our tickets. I got the tickets right before Alex and Erica got to the bus door. Good timing. Then we embarked on the three hour bus ride down to Dublin. Basically I tried to read and sleep, but at some point my hypochondria kicked in and I was convinced that I couldn't talk. Honestly, though, I felt something wrong with my throat and had trouble talking for the next few hours. Not sure what it was, but it eventually went away. I had been ill since before I left for Istanbul, and I finally broke down and started taking my antibiotics while in Belfast.

Anyway, we got to the main bus station in Dublin. Alex found out where the bus to our hotel, the Travelodge Castleknock, was, but we ended up walking in circles around the bus station until he went back in, asked again, and realized that our bus left from O'Connell Street, about three blocks away. So we dragged our luggage up to O'Connell Street, and a very nice police officer helped us find our bus, count out exact change for the bus fare, and told the bus driver where we had to get off, since we didn't know where the stop for the Travelodge was.

Alex had said that the hotel advertised being only a couple of kilometers outside the city centre. And by a couple, they meant seven. So we were on the bus for about half an hour, and the bus driver didn't tell us where to get off, so based on our limited knowledge of the Dublin suburbs, we guessed. We saw the Travelodge sign on our right and got off at the next stop after that. It wasn't exactly close, and we had to cross a highway in order to get over towards the hotel. Then we checked in, got into our rooms, which were comfortable enough, but nothing special, and ate dinner at the Denny's-type restaurant next to the hotel. It was the only non-residential establishment nearby, and everyone who worked there looked like they hated their lives. Another early night. I think I watched National Treasure and read before going to bed.

Sunday, Jan. 4 - We woke up and ate handfuls of Frosties for breakfast (the same Frosties we had bought in Belfast). Then we set out to look for a closer bus stop than the one we had seen the previous night. But to use the Dublin buses, you need exact change, which we didn't have. Between the three of us, we had enough change for one one-way fare into the city centre. We asked at the hotel desk if they could give us change for a 5Euro bill, but the girl at the counter was thoroughly unhelpful. Then we went back to the Denny's-type place next door and asked if they could give us change, but, of course, they, too, were unhelpful. I asked some other travelers in the lobby of the hotel if they could break a 5, but none of them spoke English. Finally, desparing, we decided that I would take a bus into town, get change, and then come back for them. We headed off across the highway, back to the bus stop we had gotten off at the previous night, hoping maybe there would be a change machine. There wasn't. We despaired and cursed the unwholesome Dublin suburbs, and then decided to simply walk down the side of the highway toward Dublin until we came across something that looked like it could break a 5. The Dublin suburbs are not an attractive place. It was literally crappy, because at least once we had to step over dog droppings. Finally we saw a petrol station across the highway, darted across four lanes of traffic once again, and bought a couple things at the convenience store in order to have change. Then we went back across the highway, and waited at the nearest bus stop. Finally a bus came and we were on our way into Dublin.

We saw most of the main sights. Alex was a wonderful tour guide, remembering all the places he had been the last time he was in Dublin. We walked through Trinity College, but the Old Library wasn't open until noon, and the Book of Kells wasn't on display at all. So we walked over to the History and Archeology Museum, which wasn't open until 2. I'm not sure what we did in the meantime. At some point we walked through St. Stephen's Green, went to the Dublin Tourist Office, and walked to Grafton Street, Dublin's trendy shopping street. Then we went back to see Trinity's Old Library, which was amazing, as old libraries tend to be. From there we went to the Archeology Museum, which was a very good museum. I liked the exhibit on ritual sacrafice and bog bodies. We randomly ran into Erica's friend Tony from Durham. It was odd.

At some point we got bagels for lunch, which were delicious. Alex even admitted that they were a good choice. For some reason, there were a lot of bagel places in Dublin. This surprised me, since I was hard pressed to find a decent bagel anywhere in London or Norwich. We walked around some more.

All I really wanted to do in Dublin was go to a pub with live music. So we went over to Temple Bar, looked around, and found The Temple Bar, which boasted having live folk music later that night. But rather than be overcharged for pub food, we went to a fast food, takeout type place and ordered a pizza and curry fries. In a desperate move not to be British, the Irish say "fries" instead of "chips." I was skeptical at first, but curry sauce and cheese on fries is actually very good. Then we went to the pub, which was very crowded. Erica forced Alex to get something. So he and I each got a pint of Bulmers cider, and Erica got a Guinness. I'm not a fan of beer. Not even in Ireland. It was expensive, though. Six Euros for one pint! A good excuse not to drink in Ireland. I was on antibiotics, too, so I really shouldn't have been drinking anything, but I felt like I should have at least one pint in an Irish pub. We sat by the window and listened to the music, which was good. At one point Erica got a phone call from her mom, so she stepped outside. I caught Alex staring out the window at someone, and he told me he was watching this particular, somewhat dubious-looking guy who had been standing on the same street corner for the past fifteen minutes. I recognized him as the same guy I had seen pass by the window three times already. We spent the next half an hour coming up with stories about why he was waiting there. Eventually a woman came up to him, gestured like she had been held up in traffic or something, and then they left. He must have been waiting for over an hour.

After we had finished our drinks, we went back to O'Connell Street, making sure we had enough money for both the bus back that night and one back into town the next morning, and went back to Castleknock.

Monday, Jan. 4 - We woke up early, checked out, and waited at our new-found bus stop. We saw a bus approach, hailed it down, turned to pick up our bags, and by the time we had turned around the bus had left. Bastard. Eventually another one came by, but this time we were ready.

We got into town, rented lockers at the bus station, stored our bags, and went to walk around Christchurch and St. Patrick's Cathedrals. We were going to catch a ferry to Holyhead, Wales, later that night. Christchurch was interesting, but I didn't get the same sort of serene feeling that I usually get in cathedrals. Oh well. At St. Patrick's I randomly ran into Liza from the Norwich program. We hugged, I called Erica over, since they knew each other from DTG, and we took a couple of pictures before she left to go look around. We stayed there for a while, just sitting and looking. I think Erica fell asleep in one of the pews. When we got out of the cathedral the clouds in the sky had turned this incredible mixture of purple and pink, so we spent a good twenty minutes taking artistic pictures.

Then we went off to Grafton Street to find something to eat. Eventually we ended up at a mall on the end of Grafton Street, but not a normal mall. This one was very pretty and Victorian. Far nicer than an American mall. I called up Liza and she met us for dinner at the mall. We walked around a bit, and then she headed off back to her hostel, since it was getting dark and she was there alone. Erica, Alex, and I went back to the bus depot, got our bags, and got on the bus to the port. We were expecting a small car ferry, the kind of thing I once took across the Delaware. Instead, we were greeted with this enormous cruise ship! It was absolutely fantastic. We sat in one of several lounges, got a snack from the bar, and talked and took pictures for three hours while we sailed across the Irish Sea. We arrived in Holyhead around half past midnight, took a shuttle from the port to the station to collect our luggage, and then Alex, Erica, and I hailed a cab to take us to the most wonderful place on earth: The Boathouse Hotel.

Anarchy in the UK: Belfast and The Giant's Causeway

I landed in Belfast around 1:30pm and met Erica and Alex right outside of backage claim. It's a pretty small airport. It was really good to see them, even though I had seen Erica just a few weeks earlier in Durham. I think I've seen her more this past winter than I did last year! Ok, that's an exaggeration.

Alex has grown his hair out. It looks good. Don't worry, Erica. He's all yours.

We took a bus into the city center and walked to the Belfast International Youth Hostel. I had never stayed in a hostel before, and wasn't entirely sure what to expect. It was really nice, actually. Alex had booked me my own room, so for three nights I had a double room with my own bathroom to myself. I'm not sure how we managed that, but it was good. The whole set up reminded me of a college residence hall, so the transition from Best Western to hostel wasn't that great a shock. The rooms were clean, I had clean sheets, and, like I said, my own bathroom. I even had an green accent wall in my room, which Alex and Erica didn't have.

We sat around for a while and then went on a walk. We stopped in this cute used bookshop/cafe, and then headed out toward the Botanical Gardens. It would probably be gorgeous in the spring, but botanical gardens in the winter are a bit lackluster. The weather wasn't too cold, though, and it was a nice walk. They had a hot house that we stopped in for a while, and the humidity was a welcomed change from the dry, dry air I had experienced in Munich.

Belfast itself is a bit run down. You can tell that the economic downturn has hit Northern Ireland rather hard. It could also be that it was the New Year's season, so everything was closed and quiet. There's not terribly a lot to see. So after the gardens we stopped at a grocery store and bought bread, cheese, peanut butter, hummus, pitta, a box of Frosties cereal, Jaffa Cakes, and Penguin candy bars. A lovely dinner. I was only a couple days later that we realized there was a guest kitchen downstairs, and that we weren't allowed to eat in the rooms. Oops. So dinner that night consisted of a mixture of all of the aforementioned items. We talked about eating penguins, we might have read a bit, and then we went to bed around 10. A bunch of party hounds, us. But I did get Alex hooked on Jaffa Cakes. The night wasn't a complete waste.

Wednesday, Dec. 31 - New Year's Eve. We breakfasted on Frosties and bread with peanut butter, checked our email on the ridiculously expensive computers downstairs, and walked down to City Hall, stopping in at a Neo-gothic combination church and shopping mall called Spires Mall. At City Hall we got a bus to Cave Hill Park, a very large park just outside the city. Erica wanted to see the caves of Cave Hill, since they were carved by prehistoric inhabitants of Antrim, but they were quite a ways up in the park, so instead we contented ourselves to wander up to and around Belfast Castle, another Victorian Neo-gothic construction that was accented in a faded red paint so that the entire structure looked like a pink and purple Barbie castle. From the castle we walked up the hill a bit further through the muddy trails in the shockinly green landscape. It was the middle of winter, and Ireland is still 10 times greener than anywhere else I've ever been. It was rather...magical. Oh, and apparently if you're going to be in a park in Ireland, you have to have a dog. Everyone we passed in the park was walking a dog. Everyone.

We walked back down the hill, very tired and hungry, since we hadn't eaten since breakfast. We took the bus back to City Hall, and then walked back to the hostel. We had planned to go out that night to an Indian restaurant that was boasting a full Indian meal and Bollywood entertainment for New Year's, but Erica wasn't feeling well, so instead we spent the night sitting in my room at the hostel. Alex and I ran out to the sketchy Indian/kebab place across the street and we ate very greasy Indian food back in the room. Then Alex did dramatic dramatic readings from my copy of J.K. Rowling's The Tales of Beedle the Bard, which was rather entertaining. At one point, Erica was laughing so hard that she ran into my bathroom and came out stating, "Alex, you just made me throw up in Shannyn's shower!" Even funnier was that, directly after the sentence Alex had been reading came "Mrs. Bloxam's tale has met the same response from generations of Wizarding children: uncontrollable retching..." This was so funny that we laughed for a good 10 minutes.

Around 10pm we were starting to get tired. Erica kept falling asleep. Alex silently continued to read The Tales of Beedle the Bard, and I read a bit from Mary Shelley's The Last Man, a book I had been wanting to read for a while, bought and started in Durham, and had not yet finished. I've finished it now. It was very disappointing. Eventually I fell asleep, too. Luckily, Erica and I both woke up shortly before midnight. My clock turned to 0:00. We shouted "Happy New Year!" Hugged, took pictures, and watched people shoot off fireworks all over the city. I called my parents to say Happy New Year. Then Pawel drunk dialed me from Poland to wish me a Happy New Year and insist that I was out drinking, even though I assured him that I had spent the last six hours sitting in my hostel room talking and reading. Around 1 Erica and Alex went to their room, and I went to bed. Not exactly the crazy New Year's antics I had expected, but, you know, I enjoyed it. I'm not a party person. I probably couldn't have asked for anything better.

Thursday, Jan. 1 - Again, I think the better part of the day was spent in the hostel. I know at some point we went back to Alex's bookstore so he could buy some books for a friend. Then I think we went back to walk around the Botanical Gardens again. Other than that, though, I don't think we did anything else. The afternoon found us eating bread and peanut butter, and reading up in the hostel's library. I was bored of The Last Man, so I picked up a book called Rasputin Speaks. I've always been fascinated by Rasputin. I read the first few pages, and it was actually really good, a fictional autobiography of Russia's mad monk. I continued reading it for the rest of the night, but only got about half way before we had to leave the next morning. I think a general rule for hostels is take a book/leave a book, but I didn't have any book I was willing to leave, so I just put Rasputin Speaks back in the library and decided to try and find a copy for myself somewhere else. I later found out that it only went through one edition back in 1941, and even Amazon only had one used copy. I assume they don't have any copies now, because I bought it.

Friday, Jan. 2 - We headed off to the bus station far earlier than I would have liked to get up and caught a bus to The Giant's Causeway. The ride was about three hours, twice as long as a direct drive, but this bus went up the Causeway Coastal Route, which follows the Antrim coast and is very pretty. Belfast and the other towns we passed through were, like I've said, a bit run down, but the countryside is beautiful. Lots of sheep, cows, and horses. I even saw a field of highland mountain cows at one point. We arrived at our bus stop sometime in the early afternoon, got off the bus, and realized that we were sort of in the middle of nowhere. According to Alex's confirmation letter, The Causeway Hotel, where we had rooms for the night, was in the nearby town of Bush Mills, but, according to a sign, Bush Mills was another 2 miles down the road. There were two buildings right near our bus stop, so Alex went to ask if they knew were are hotel was. He had gotten about half way to the buildings when he turned and came back, saying, "Guys, I think that's our hotel." Huzzah! So we checked in, lugged our bags up a set of narrow stairs, and settled into our rooms. Again, I had my own. It was a very nice room with a lovely bathroom and a beautiful view of the coast. One thing I love about all British hotels? They all have electric kettles and tea fixings. This hotel even gave us buscuits.

The entrance to the Causeway itself was a five minute walk from the hotel, so we embarked on our hike across the gorgeous coastline. Again, it was remarkably green and, as Erica noted, the grass looked "like a guinea pig." Don't ask. The Causeway's a bit difficult to describe in words, so instead I will direct you to pictures.
We walked to the extremities of the pathways. I'm not sure exactly how far it was, but it was far enough. There was a path up on top of the cliff. At first I told Erica and Alex to go on without me. I was very tired and I wasn't sure my legs could handle the very steep stairs. But, after waiting awkwardly for about twenty minutes for them to come back down, I slowly ascended the warn and slippery stone steps to meet Erica and Alex at the top. Then we walked back down the steps and trudged all the way back to the hotel. We changed and decided to splurge on a real meal at the hotel restaurant, since we hadn't really eaten real food in Belfast. We were directed to wait at a table in the bar and to order there while they got a table ready in the restaurant. Adjacent to the actual bar itself we saw people eating at cozy wooden tables, so we assumed that was the restaurant. No. It was just an extention of the bar. Once we had ordered and a waitress came to escort us to our table, we were taken to the complete other side of the hotel into a very fancy room where the tables had tablecloths, cloth napkins, and candles. We were the only people in the restaurant. It was rather intimidating. At one point the owner of the hotel came in to assure us that we weren't being exiled and insisted that, eventually, other patrons would join us in the restaurant. They did, eventually. I ordered salmon, which came on a bed of grilled cabbage. I'd never eaten cabbage before, but it was actually pretty good. Everything came with chips. At that point, it was the best food I'd ever eaten. We had a cup of tea, and then retired to our rooms. I know I watched something on TV that night. At one point I flipped to the Gaelic news channel. I'm not sure why, but the woman speaking didn't sound like she was speaking with any particular accent, so the Gaelic just sounded fake. But then again, I don't speak Gaelic, so I don't know.

The next morning we paid and headed down to catch a bus back to Belfast, where we would catch a bus to Dublin.

Highlights of Munich and Bavaria

All right. I finally have some time on my hands. So, to pick up where I left off:

On Saturday, Dec. 27, my dad, sister, and I spent the morning at the Yerebatan Cistern, then rejoined my mother and went to the airport to catch our flight to Munich. I can't actually seem to remember the flight, which only makes me think that it was really boring.

We got into Munich late that afternoon, took the metro from the airport (the Flughafen...sorry, I think German is funny) to Hauptbahnhof station in the center of Munich. And then we got lost. Mel and I got off on the opposite side of the metro train from Mom and Dad, and it was only after the train had left that I realized that you got out on the right if you wanted to leave the station, the left if you wanted to change to another train. So we ended up going the wrong way up the stairs, lugging enormous suitcases each, and got into the station. And we didn't see our parents. Then Mel recalled seeing another staircase on the right side of the platform, so we went back down (again, the wrong way) another staircase onto the right side of the platform, and our parents weren't there. We must have gone up and down at least two more sets of stairs before we decided to call Dad to see where exactly they were. We briefly mused that it didn't matter, since we had the map. Dad said that they, too, had ended up on the wrong floor of the station, and were also lost. "We're by the McDonald's," he tells us. So we wander around the main floor of the station until we see the shining beacon of the golden arches. Then we got a bit lost on the way to our Best Western, but eventually found it. Then Mel's and my key wouldn't work. I swear. None of us could open the door. So I went to tell the guy and the front desk. He opened the door in one try. Boy, did I feel stupid. We settled into our rooms and then went out to a pizza place around the corner. Thus ended night one in Munich.

Sunday, Dec. 28 - We woke up early to get breakfast before we had to meet our tour bus over by the train station. I've never seen such a big breakfast buffet. They had at least four hot dishes, an entire table devoted to tea, four different juice machines, an orange juice squeezer machine, about six types of breads or rolls, fruit, smoked salmon and other deli meats...there was more but I can't remember it all. It was incredible. So we ate and headed out to meet our bus for a tour of Bavarian Castles. The tour guide was...what might be decribed as a stereotypical German. He was very pushy and a bit condescending at times. His accent was slight, but it sort of added to the overall mood. Anyway, we drove on the Autobahn for about an hour and the Alps rose in the distance. I had never seen the Alps before. They're beautiful. We drove up into the mountains and went to Linderhof Palace, King Ludwig II's little mountain getaway. I completely underestimated how cold it would be in the mountains. Or, rather, I didn't think much about it at all. It was very cold. But the snow was beautiful. The palace was rather small for a palace, as was the intention, but it sort of made the ten minute wait out in the snow for a ten minute tour a bit of a let-down. Oh well. It was a nice house. With nice scenery. On the way down to the parking lot, I bought a pair of fluffy socks to wear under my boots. My feet were freezing.

From Linderhof we drove to Oberammergau, a small, typically Bavarian town in the mountains which is famous for putting on the Passion play every ten years. It used to be every year, to thank God for sparing the town during a bout of plague, but then they got lazy, apparently. The next play is next year, 2010, and they estimate that over 5 million people will come to this tiny town to see the play.
So Mom and I took a walk around town and looked at the painted houses and mused on how quaintly German it all was.

We then drove even further up to the famous Neuschwanstein Castle, Ludwig's fairy tale castle tribute to Wagner. We stopped at the base of the mountain and ate lunch in the Hotel Muller. I had Kartoffelspatzl. Kartoffel is my favorite German word.
Then we began the half hour climb up the snow mountain road to get to the castle. It was cold. I was wearing fashion boots (thank God they didn't have high heels), we were all a bit tired, and Mom was recovering from pneumonia, so, needless to say, it was a long walk. Finally we arrived up at the castle, which is big and white and looks like a fairy tale castle. Again we waited for our tour number to be called, taking pictures and talking to other tourists. Unfortunately I couldn't take pictures of the interior of the castle, but let's just say it was a bit intense. Especially the room Ludwig had decorated to resemble an underground grotto. Let's just say it almost makes Disney look tame. But the colors were vibrant and the paintings were interesting. I wish the castle had been finished, but unfortunately Ludwig died before its completion, and the government basically decided it wasn't worth it to continue.

After Neuschwanstein, we trudged back down the hill to the bus, and attempted to sleep as our tourguide kept talking, even though he said that he would stop. So it goes.

We got back to Munich sometime in the late afternoon and decided to walk around Karlplatz, right near to where the bus dropped us off. There was a festive-looking ice skating rink decorated in big plastic polar bears, and lots of lights. We watched for a while, looked around, and then decided we were hungry. Unfortunately, the only thing open was a McDonald's. Mom and I couldn't eat there, since she's allergic to seafood and I'm a vegetarian, but they had a McCafe upstairs, so dinner consisted of hot chocolate and muffins. Why is it that McDonald's restaurants in Europe are so much fancier than they are in the States?

Monday, Dec. 29 -We got up, had breakfast, and spent the day walking around Munich. There's not a whole lot to do in Munich, especially when most things are closed for the holiday season. But we saw the Glockenspiel go off in Marienplatz, explored Fraunkirche, and took a look at the Hofbrauhaus. Then Mel and I decided we wanted to go off on our own, so we split ways with the parents. Basically we went shopping, although I didn't buy much. I'd been looking for a plain white turtleneck forever, and I found one that wasn't too expensive, so I'd say it was an excursion well-spent. We got hot chocolate at a cafe run by Italians who didn't speak English, so our lack of Italian and German was poignant. But it's not that hard to say "hot chocolate," so it all worked out. We walked around some more. Mel took pictures. I got really really tired for some reason. Around 6 we met my parents outside the Hofbrauhaus for dinner. I wanted to sit down in the beer hall, surrounded by drunk strangers like you're supposed to, but Mom wanted to find something quieter, so we went upstairs to the more restaurant-like atmosphere. They only took reservations, and we didn't have one, so we were advised to go back downstairs or wait an hour. I was content to go back downstairs, but Mom pouted and the guy let us have a table. We ordered beer, of course. Mel's first beer. I got the German equivalent of a shandy (beer and lemonade). It turns out I don't like them in England or Germany. I ordered potato soup and shared Mel's spatzel. We heard the oompa band on the way out, and made our way back to the hotel.

Tuesday, Dec. 30 - We got up, ate breakfast, took the subway out to the Flughafen, and I went off to check into my flight for Belfast while my family got on their flight home. It was really nice to see them, even if it was only for a few days. I felt really strange, leaving them in the airport knowing that I wouldn't see them for another six months. At least when I left for England I had another 20 some people to talk to and distract me. But walking through the airport at Munich, I was all alone.
The flight from Munich to Belfast was uneventful. I was at the gate really early, surrounded by people leaving on a flight to Abu Dhabi that left from the same gate. I got a snack and wandered around for a while. Then we borded. I got a window seat. Yay me. I always love looking out plane windows. It was really cool to see the Alps as we took off, and see the little brown and white Bavarian towns scattered across the landscape as we left Germany. It was remarkably clear all the way until we reached the English Channel. I could tell we'd made it to the Isles because the clouds started rolling in. But I made it to Belfast without incident. I'll leave that for my next post.

But first, some pictures, again to convince you to check out my Photobucket.

A view of Neuschwanstein from the base of the hill.

The oompa band at the Hofbrauhaus in Munich.

I'm Back! And highlights of Istanbul

OK, first things first. I urge everyone to check out the pictures from my trip. They'll probably give you a better sense of my travels than anything I can say here.


http://s349.photobucket.com/albums/q385/Kobrans/UEA/Winter%20Break/


Here's a taste, and hopefully it will encourage you to waste some time and look at the rest of them.












Right, that having been said, I suppose I should update. If you've been reading my blog, then you know that I have quite the adventure this past break.

After my trip to Durham to visit Erica, I basically sat around in my room for three days. On Sunday afternoon I went into town to meet Stephen and Pawel. We had hot cocoa in front of the Forum and then I went with them to Tesco to pick up some vodka and munchies for a party they were going to later that night. They were hung over all day, and this was the third consecutive night of drinking they had planned. I guess that's what it means to be Polish. Just kidding. But I was really glad to see them before I left.

On Monday, Dec. 22, around noon, I left with my enormous rolling duffle bag on a train for London, dragged my luggage through the Tube all the way to Heathrow, and got a bus over to the Holiday Inn for the night. I spent the rest of the night in the hotel, ate dinner in the hotel restaurant, and watched some TV. I think The Brothers Grimm was on. I had forgotten how much I hated that movie. In the morning I got up early, took a taxi to Heathrow, and got on a plane to Istanbul. I have to say, I'm not impressed with British Airways.

I landed in Istanbul about 3:15 local time, got my visa (basically a $20 postage stamp) and met my parents after going through customs. It was weird seeing them after so much time, because it didn't feel like it had been that long, thanks to Skype. It was just physically being with them. And then the family dynamics started coming into play once we were all together again. I had sort of forgotten how we all interact when together.
We took a shuttle to our hotel in Sultanahmet. Now, I'll preface this by saying that we were almost excusively in the touristy part of the city, but from what I saw, Istanbul is a really lovely, clean city. My sister remarked that it felt like walking through the Disney Epcot Morocco exhibit, and I sort of agree. Streets were clean and cobblestoned, there were Christmas lights everywhere (not that Turkey, being a Muslim country, celebrates Christmas, but they know where to hit the tourists), and music was playing from every shop and restaurant. Our hotel was amazing. We had a wonderful (although small) room with a balcony that overlooked the Hagia Sophia. Couldn't have asked for a better view. And, although it was annoying at 6AM, we could hear the call to prayer coming from the Blue Moque.
Istanbul really is where East meets West. Just different enough to know you're not in the West anymore, but there is so much that is familiar, that it's not uncomfortable. Almost everyone spoke English, which was very helpful, although somewhat regrettable, since I didn't have to pick up any Turkish. I did use "Teshekur ederim" quite often, which means "Thank you." A nice and patient waiter at one restaurant taught us to say it "Tea, sugar, a dream." I'm relatively good with languages, but pronunciation is not my strongest skill.
I can't possibly recount everything that happened, but I'll mention the highlights. Our first night, we wandered around our immediate neighborhood, went to dinner, and got pulled into this carpet shop and were offered apple tea (which is AMAZING) while this guy tried to sell my parents Turkish rugs. One thing I noticed throughout the trip, especially the next day when we went to the Grand and Spice Bazaars, was that everyone is VERY nice and welcoming. Now, to be fair, most of them are trying to sell something, but beyond that, everyone wants to talk to you, learn where you're from. If they've been to America, they want to talk to you about it. Everyone says, "Welcome to my country!" They offer you tea, they give you advice on which places to visit and what times are the best. They all offer you business cards. One man even gave us his personal phone number and offered to show us where the nearest hospital was, because we had mentioned that my sister was ill back at the hotel.
So, Dec. 24 we walked around the Grand Bazaar. Then we met my friend Duygu from Dickinson (she lived across the hall from me freshman year) and her friend Gul, who spent the rest of the day with us. Having them there to show us around was definitely one of the best parts of the trip. We went to lunch in the Grand Bazaar and they made sure we tried all sorts of traditional Turkish things, like iran, a drink made from plain yogurt. I can't say I'm a fan. (Oh, a side note. It turns out that they don't do falafel in Turkey. It's more of a Middle Eastern thing. I was crushed.) Then we walked through the Spice Market and bought some real Turkish Delight. At one point Gul stopped a man pushing a cart with this big cauldron on it and got us sahlep, a hot winter drink made from Turkish rice pudding. That was delicious. Then they took us to Taksim, the trendy shopping district of the new side of Istanbul, where all the hip, cool people hang out. We had dinner there, and looked around some shops.
On Christmas, Mel wasn't feeling well, so she stayed in the hotel. Mom, Dad, and I went to the Blue Mosque, the Hippodrome, and the Hagia Sophia. The Hippodrome is just this big park of what used to be the Roman stadium, but it still houses the Egyptian obelisk, Constantine's Column, and the remains of the Serpentine Column. The Blue Mosque was closed for prayer when we first got there, but we eventually got inside. It's massive, and absolutely beautiful. The Hagia Sophia is literally right across the street. It, too, while a bit more run down (although it's in excellent shape for being 1500 years old), is absolutely gorgeous and very impressive. In the afternoon we went back to the hotel. Everyone else napped while I checked my email on the hotel computer, and then we went back over to where we had been earlier to show Mel the area at night. We wandered around almost to the river and back before settling on this awesome little restaurant in a building that looked, again, like a front from a Disney ride. We ran into plenty of stray cats along the way. Istanbul is flooded with stray cats. A couple stray dogs, too.

The next day we toured Topkapi Palace, which is a bit too much, but more...understandable? than Versailles. The set-up of the Harem was really interesting, too. While I was waiting for my parents to get tickets, I sat on this bench surrounded three stray cats. I started petting one, and he immediately jumped on my lap. Then another one got jealous and jumped up, too. Then some Japanese tourists came over and took pictures.

In the afternoon we took a boat tour of the Bosphorous. It was raining and windy, so we stayed in the cabin for most of it. Mel and I nearly fell off the boat when we went up on deck, it was rocking so much. But now I can say that I've seen Asia, even if we didn't land on the Asian side. Then we took a coach up to Pierre Loti Hill, which normally has a beautiful view over the city, but it was cloudy and sort of miserable, so we didn't stay there long. We took a cable car down from the hill, and then back to Sultanahmet, where we walked back to our hotel.

In the morning, Mom was sort of tired, but Dad and I took Mel back to the Blue Mosque, which she had missed on Christmas, and then the three of us went to the Yerebatan Cistern, which is this underground...well...cistern. It reminded me of Moria from Lord of the Rings. In the afternoon we went to the airport and flew to Munich. But that'll be another post. Right now, I should probably leave my room and do something productive, like start my HUM 310 paper on...I'm not sure yet. I think poems. Maybe.

But definitely check out my pictures. Still to come: Munich and Bavaria, Belfast, the Giant's Causeway, Dublin, Holyhead, London, and my return to Norwich!

Where has the sun gone?

I'm pretty sure I'm becoming a hypochrondriac. Looking back, I think I've been some degree of "ill" ever since I got to England. I know I had a cold or something in London that left me in bed on the day I was supposed to see The Merry Wives of Windsor and dependent on LemSip for a couple of days. Specifically, I've been sinus-y for the past month or so, and I've been really really tired for a few weeks. Now, every ache or twinge makes me feel like maybe I should call 999. The fact that I've been spending far too much time on WebMD's symptom checker probably isn't doing me any good, either. I've also been alone in my room for the past three days, and it hasn't been particularly nice weather outside, so that's most likely adding to my paranoia as well. I'm most worried about the fatigue, since I have three solid weeks of travel ahead of me. Today I woke up at 10:30, made breakfast, spent a couple hours online (including WebMD), worried about the fact that my back has suddenly gone stiff and my muscles are feeling particularly weak, tried to read, and then settled down for a nap around 1 because I couldn't keep my eyes open. This doesn't seem particularly normal. But I've taken a couple different versions of "Immune boosters" and Vitamin C, had some orange squash, and I just made some tuna for that protein thing I'm supposed to be getting. I do get a fair share of protein...maybe. Perhaps I need more iron. I think I'll stop by Boots or something tomorrow for some energy boosters. I know they have a Vit B-12/Iron supplement.

Even if I did have something seriously wrong with me, I almost doubt that the NHS is capable of doing anything about it. The fact that anyone gets medical service in this country astounds me. I love the idea of nationalized healthcare. I really do. But as someone who is used to having private insurance and the service that comes with it, this just isn't enough. A couple of weeks ago, I finally broke down and went to the University Medical Centre with what I thought was a sinus infection. I'd been having symptoms for a while and had been trying to treat them on my own, but nothing was working. I get sinus infections a lot. I know exactly which medication I always take. (Maybe that's the problem. I need a new antibiotic...) Anyway, I went with all of this information and was told simply that my symptoms weren't severe enough for them to perscribe antibiotics, that I should take some decongestants, inhale a lot of steam, have a buddy check on me every couple hours, and come back when I was in excruciating pain. Wow. Thanks a lot, NHS.
I went back sometime last week because my symptoms, while they hadn't gotten a whole lot worse, had not gone away. Politely as I could, I demanded antibiotics because I was going to be traveling and I didn't want to be without meds if I really needed them. The nurse was reluctant, sent me away while she consulted with a doctor, and finally, begrudgingly, handed me a perscription, with a warning that I shouldn't take the medicine unless I absolutely had to. "There's no proof that the antibiotics are going to make it any better," she said.
They don't seem to trust prescription drugs over here. I remember Lauren telling me, when we were still in London, that she went into a Boots to get some Ibuprofen. She was carded, and the person at the counter asked her if she'd ever taken Ibuprofen before and did she know how to use it.
I'm all for "experiencing the culture," and I certainly don't want to develop a dependence on prescription meds if a homeopathic remedy will work just as well, but there just comes a point where I want drugs and I want them now. None of this bullshit to stand in my way. I suppose I should consider myself lucky that I'm in a country that speaks English. I'd hate to have medical problems somewhere where I don't speak the language.
So, in the end, I got my antibiotics. But I haven't taken them yet. This has nothing to do with the nurse's cryptic warning. It's just that I no longer think I actually have a sinus infection. My symptoms have developed differently than they normally do. No infectious green drainage. No stuffy nose. Sinus pressue and a bit of post nasal drip is all, but nothing that looks green and icky. Perhaps that's too much detail.

I should probably leave my flat at some point. I haven't since around 7pm on Thursday. And my backache is most likely a result of the many hours I spent sitting in my chair in front of my comptuer yesterday. I'm not normally this much of a hermit. Ok, maybe sometimes. But my fatigue makes me want to stay inside, even though getting up and moving might actually help. The weather isn't terribly nice. Today, for instance, it's been cloudy and drizzling since I woke up. To be honest, I have no idea what the temperature is, since I haven't been outside. I can only assume that it's cold. Can we call this a mild case of seasonal depression? Hopefully the sun and relative warmth of Istanbul will help. Also, falafel. I can only imagine that falafel is the remedy to cure all illness.

Seeing my family will probably also help. Like I said in my last post, I really haven't been homesick until recently, and it's probably only because most everyone else I know has gone home for the holidays. I went through a few sporatic days in the past few months when I wanted to go home, but they always passed. Now I'm alone in my flat. Stephen and Pawel have been busy, so I have no one to talk to expect people online. I was too lazy to go down to campus yesterday, and since now it's the weekend and break, everything is closed. Tomorrow I'll see Stephen and Pawel. On Monday I'll get the train down to London, and then, on Tuesday, my long-awaited flight to Istanbul. At this point I think I'm more excited to see my family than to see Istanbul. Not that Istanbul won't be amazing. But seeing my family after so long will be nice. They're suppose to be on Skype sometime soon, so I'm just waiting to hear from them.

I also found out last night, through an email from my mother, that my grandfather is in the hospital. Again. He's often in the hospital. He's a bit of a hypochrondriac, too, but at 92 he has more reason to be one than I do. This time he has pneumonia and, at his age, he's not expected to make it. I had considered the fact that this summer might be the last time I see my grandfather. He always told me that, at his age, all he could hope for was to wake up the next morning. He's probably the most active 92-year-old I've ever heard of, and he's been doing well with the whole "waking up" routine for a while now, but I always knew that, one day, his luck would run out. I suppose it doesn't matter how good or long a life you've had; you can still be afraid of death.
My grandmother's told my parents not to cancel our travel plans in case he does pass away. I'm conflicted as to how I feel about this. On the one hand, I know my grandfather wouldn't want us to cancel our trip, and my parents and I have put so much work and planning into my Christmas break that, in a practical way, it might be more trouble than it's worth. (I mean this on a purely pragmatic level. I'm not so heartless that I would rather miss my grandfather's funeral than cencel a trip across Europe. I can do that anytime.) Then I think of my Aunt Jane, who passed away four years ago this April. I had the chance to visit her in the hospital a few days before she passed away from cancer, but I didn't. I did go to her funeral-- the only funeral I've ever been to--but I've always felt slightly guilty about missing that last chance to say goodbye. I would feel even worse if I missed yet another chance to say goodbye. And in this case I would probably miss the funeral, too, since Jewish funerals take place as soon as possible after the death, and I would still be traveling.
He's the only grandfather I have. The only one I've ever had. Both my maternal and paternal grandfathers died long before I was born, and my paternal grandmother remarried when I was about three. This is the only grandfather I've ever known. I'm not entirely sure how I'd feel if I learned that he'd passed away. Sad, certainly. But he's been suffering from various ailments for a long time now. Death would be a release from that suffering. Then again, I know he's afraid of death, and he's taken such good care of himself in his old age. Shouldn't that earn him some more time?
Is this too morbid, musing on my grandfather's death before he's even gone? Should I switch to a different topic? More for my own sanity than for yours, I suppose.


A few observations of late:

When I went to make some tuna for my lunch, I noticed that the experation date on the can was 2063. This amused me greatly, to think that anything could last that long. Let's see. In 2063 I will be 75. I plan to still be alive at 75, if it's up to me, which, ultimately, it isn't. But I'd like to buy something with an experation date that far in the future. Motivation to keep on living, so that I keep that can of tuna or whatever right up until the experation date and eat it just before it expires. All right. Getting morbid again. Time for a new topic.

It seems that Chad and I have come to the same realization. Although we claim to both be book nerds (and, God knows, I do love books), neither of us read as much as we'd like to. Even now, I have two books at my bedside which I'd love to be reading, but my eyes get tired whenever I try, and surfing the internet or watching TV is just easier. I feel like a true bibliophile would be reading constantly, not wasting time with idle movie-watching and internet chit-chat. So there it is. My life is a lie.
I've also come to the realization that I'm not a writer. Ever since I was young, I've wanted to be an author. And I was, once. Back in elementary and middle school, I used to write poems and short stories all the time. Looking back on them, they weren't incredibly good, but at least in my early years I actually finished them. As I got older my stories got more complex, and I stopped finishing them. Then I pretty much stopped writing fiction all together. I basically haven't written anything substantial since middle school (with the exception of the stuff I wrote in Creative Writing last semester. I'm not particularly proud of any of it.). Now my abilities have degraded even further. I have tons of ideas, jumping-off points. I even have allegory and deeper messages beneath the surface plot. I just can't seem to develop them. That's all they are: ideas. A couple characters, a basic knowledge of what I'd like to say. No beginning, middle, and end. No character depth. No scenes or setting that's well developed. Just an idea. And I never bring myself to work on it. I just write it down and store it away, telling myself that one day I'll sit down and do something about it. I never do. I must have a dozen Word documents with a half a page description of what I'd like to write about, and that's it. A couple notes in various journals when ideas strike me at random times. But what makes a writer isn't the inspiration. I'm sure everyone has moments of brilliants (or thinks he/she does). What makes a writer is the actual process of writing. An idea is nothing unless it's used for something. A writer is someone who writes, who can think about nothing but writing and would rather spend his/her days developing his/her ideas than do anything else. I'm not that person.
I decided to take on the Creative Writing minor to force myself to write more, because I would like to be a writer. My life goal for the last eight years has been to become a literary editor and write on the side. It's still what I'd like to do. Except that I don't write. I don't have that drive. I think I'll stick with the minor, though. Last semester my stories were mostly written in a hurry, more like normal homework than something I really wanted to do. But, once again, I've got a few ideas and, in England, far more free time to work. Maybe this coming semester will yield something worthwhile.

And since no one's online to talk to and my parents have not gotten on Skype, as they said they would, there's no time like the present.

Unnecessary Duress in Durham

It seems that Durham is both the cause and place of unnecessary anxiety. Not only did I have an unnecessary amount of hassle in actually getting to Durham, but while in Durham I went through my share of trouble.

But let me begin at the beginning. After the squabble I underwent on Saturday, which I have already related, I arrive at Durham where Erica picked me up. We spent some time in her room, which overlooks a good portion of the city, just talking and catching up. I can't help but feel that we spent more time together in Durham than we did all of last semester. Ok. I know that's not true, but it certainly feels like it. Hopefully this will be remedied when we room together next year.

In any case, once I had settled in, Erica and I went to a little Italian restaurant across the street to meet her friends. There was Tony, an English major from Cornell; Hannano from Japan; Namali from Sri Lanka; Jasmine from Singapore; and a girl named Kuchi who Erica didn't know terribly well. I'm not sure where she's from. In any case we had sort of an awkward dinner, during which I mostly talked to Erica. After dinner we walked around Bailey Street (a main road, where St. Chad's is located) for a bit. We stopped off at the college building and sort of loitered in the foyer for a while, trying to decide where to go. It seems Erica and I seem to find indecisive people all over the world. Finally Tony decided that we should go to a pub called the Swan and Three Cygnets. It was about a ten minute walk and the pub was quite crowded when we got there. It was expensive, too. In any case, I took forever finishing my pint of cider, eventually downing what I had left rather than waste my money. We wanted to leave, since there was no where to sit and it was too loud to really talk. Also becasue some drunk local came up to Erica and I and said something complimentary but unintelligible and slightly creepy. So Erica, Tony, Jasmine, Kuchi, and I went back to the St. Chad's bar, where things were significantly cheaper, but I wasn't really in the mood to drink more. From there Erica wanted to take me to Castle bar. There is actually a college, the original University College, known as "Castle," which is situated, as is to be expected, inside the Norman castle. It's bar is in the dungeon. So we walked up the hill to the castle only to be greeted with a sign that read "Castle Only." Most of the colleges have "College Only" nights when, as one would expect, only students from that college are allowed in the bar. So we walked back down the hill to and stopped off at Cuth (or St. Cuthbert's College) for Tony and Jasmine to get another drink. Then to Hatfield College, St. Chad's big rival, because their bar serves cheese toasties and Jasmine had a craving. I wasn't really hungry, but I didn't want to pass up the toasty experience, so I shared one with Erica. I met a couple of Erica's other acquaintences who were out for a friend's birthday and were all drunk. They didn't remember me when we met the next day. Anyway, but this time Erica and I were really tired, so we went back to her room, talked, and I fell asleep while she worked on a paper. One of her friends had lent me a duvet, which, with Erica's duvet, served as a make-shift mattress, and an extra blanket and pillow made for an acceptable bed.

We woke up late on Sunday. To be honest, I can't actually remember what we did. At some point I know we went to college lunch. They don't ask for ID or meal cards, so it wasn't exactly difficult for Erica to basically sneak me into the dining hall. I can't say much for the selection. You either get whatever the main meal is or the substitute vegetarian meal. That's it. But I can't say no to free food. It was just as she had described it, though. Basically the bland variety of British food, and the vegetarian dishes felt the need to have some sort of fake meat in them, as if vegetables weren't suitable on their own. Anyway, after lunch, I'm pretty sure we went back to Erica's room so that she could work on her paper. I think this is when I wrote my previous blog post.
In the evening we went to college dinner (same routine) and then to the St. Chad's pantomime. Apparently this is an English tradition, probably with its roots in medieval Christmas pageants. However, they no longer have to have any relation to Christmas, and this one certainly didn't. Basically it was some warped version of Aladdin, where Aladdin was the closeted homosexual son of an androgynous chippy owner, Jasmine was a bitchy princess modeled after girls from My Super Sweet Sixteen, and Rahja the tiger was a pot-smoking guy in a tiger suit known as Easy Tiger. Instead of Jafar, there was the evil Mahatmah Hatfield. Because Erica had told me a lot about St. Chad's culture, I was able to get most of the inside jokes (and there were a lot). There were also a lot of references to British pop culture, which I was also grateful to understand. In any case, hillarity ensued...for almost three hours. It was great, but by the end, Erica and I were a bit tired, and she had still had that paper to write. So we stopped by the library for a second to drop off a book, then back to her room where we talked, and I, once again, fell asleep while she worked.

With the morning on Monday came the realization that Erica had overslept and missed her last (and mandatory) Ancient Egyptian class. I went out and bought us some scones for breakfast while she worked. Sometime in the afternoon, Erica did work and I went for a little tour of town. First I stopped at Durham Cathedral, which is a beautiful and enormous cathedral right across from the castle. It struck me at first as being a bit unsusal, since it's the first cathedral I've seen built out of sandstone. Beyond that, though, it's the resting place of two saints: St. Cuthbert and the Venerable Bede. I visited them both and simply walked around the cathedral for a while. I still love cathedrals. They're so peaceful. After a look around the gift shop (for, you guessed it, another spoon) I walked around back and down Bailey Street. I stopped into Waterstones (kind of like a Borders) and bought Mary Shelley's The Last Man, a book I'd been looking for for a while. Basically, it's Mary Shelley's version of the human annihilation by plague and sort of her anti-Romantic reaction to the deaths of her husband, her two children, and her friend Lord Byron. I haven't gotten very far yet, but it's starting out as quite long-winded. I just need to get used to that style again.
From Waterstones I went to a boutique called The Mugwump. I need to stop window-shopping at boutiques. It only depresses me. There was this beautiful cotton jersey dress with a little beading on it...£159. So sad. Anyway, I then walked down to the main square and browsed the covered market for a while, before I got tired and decided to head back to Erica's room and caught her just about to leave for her last class. I spent the afternoon watching TV on Erica's computer and reading Graham Swift's Waterland (which I should have finished about a month ago for HUM 310). Around 5:45 Erica came back and we went to college dinner and repeated our activities of the previous night. We talked for a while, then I fell asleep while Erica worked.

My second bout of Durham Duress occured on Tuesday when, at some point during the morning, I realized that I had lost my railcard. I tore the room apart, but no luck. I last remembered having it in my pocket. I had already lost my nifty ear muffs and believed that they had fallen out of my coat pocket at the panto. I stayed in the room to panic while Erica headed out to the library to do some last minute editing and printing. She stopped by the college on the way over and asked about a railcard, but no one had seen anything. So I tried to calm down and finished Waterland. I then decided that the best course of action was to retrace my steps. My first stop was the cathedral, where I was asked to write down my information in case anyone found anything. I then went to the cathedral shop and asked there, but no luck. I stopped by the college and asked for myself, but got the same answer that Erica had gotten. I proceeded to retrace my steps from the previous day, stopping at every shop I had gone to on Monday and asking if anyone had found a railcard. Finally, I decided that I had truly lost it and that I should probably go to the rail station to buy another so that I could get home the next day. It was a long walk to the rail station and I hadn't eaten anything yet that day. Durham, unlike East Anglia, is quite hilly, so the walk was a bit arduous as well. In any case, I finally got all the way up to the hill where the rail station was. I knew that to get my 16-25 Railcard I would need a passport photo. There was a photobooth right there, but I didn't have any coins, only a £20 note, so I decided to buy some lunch at the station cafe in order to get some change. As I was pulling out my money to buy my panini, I saw a little blue plastic bit sticking out of an obscure pocket of my wallet and came to the horrible realization that my rail card had been in my wallet the entire time. I usually keep it in my wallet, but in a different pocket. I had walked all the way to the rail station for nothing. Anyway, I sat down and ate half of my sandwich. The other half I saved for Erica, who I assumed had also not eaten that day. I used the opportunity, however to indulge my optimistic side. I stood on the hill, which had a beautiful view overlooking the city, and took pictures that I had been to tired to take when I had first arrived at Durham. I then smiled as I thought of how the walk would be easier on the way down the hill, and how I could consider the whole day an adveture during which I had an excuse to revisit the cathedral and walk around the city. Good God, what's happening to me?
I went back to Erica's room, started reading The Last Man and tried to take a nap. Erica had been out all day at the library. When she got back, I offered her the other half of my sandwich and we talked as she finished up some drawings for her Architectural Illustration class. Then she was officially done with work, and we decided to go out for Indian food to celebrate. However, Tony called and suggested that we go over to Jasmine's room for Indian takeaway, which we did. We also freaked Tony out by watching Disney's Aladdin on Jasmine's computer as we waited for the food to arrive. Around 9:30 Erica and I decided to leave because we were exhausted. We spent the night snuggling in her bed, watching Love Actually and eating an enormous block of Cadbury before we settled down for bed.

In the morning I woke up and packed while Erica ran out to turn in her illustrations. Then she and I walked to the station, stopping for breakfast pasties on the way. I double and triple checked my train's platform because I was so nervous from my trip up, but everything went according to plan. I bid my farewell to Erica, but it wasn't terribly tearful, since we're going to see each other in about two weeks anyway. I took the train down to Peterborough. I was supposed to catch the 14.40 to Norwich, but the 13.40 was running 10 minutes late, so I was able to catch it only a few minutes after my train from Durham arrived. Maybe it was some cosmic apology for all the shit I went through on the way up. Or maybe just a coincidence. I sometimes wonder what's makes more sense: blaming everything on God or Fate, or pure coincidence. Either way, I got back to Norwich an hour earlier than I had anticipated. There was a bus waiting just as I got off the train. Fortuitous is all I can say. I was back in my room about half an hour later. I made myself an early dinner and indulged a weird craving to watch My Big Fat Greek Wedding. Then I relived my high school years by watching a few episodes of Daria.

Yesterday I got up and made breakfast. I'm trying to use up all of my perishables before I leave for Istanbul. I got dressed and went down campus to exchange money back to US Dollars so that I could buy my visa in Istanbul. They only accept US Dollars. It's really really strange to have dollars in my wallet again. Then I stopped by the Travel Office to buy a ticket back from London to Norwich on Jan. 11, since it's a Sunday and I didn't want to risk not being able to get a seat. On a whim, I decided to catch the bus downtown to get my hair cut. I don't know why my friends have been going to expensive salons to get their hair done. I walked into this funky little salon/tatoo shop called Bojanles where a cut and blow dry is only £15 and got an appoinment for about an hour later. I spent the hour wandering around Waterstones and I grabbed a drink at this organic juice bar in the Royal Arcade. Then I headed back to Bojangles. Everyone there was really nice and seemed strangely interested to have an American in the salon. They kept asking me questions and the guy at the desk said he liked my accent. It's not often that I'm reminded that I'm a foreigner, so it's sort of strange. This time it wasn't creepy, though. I can't say I've had anything drastic done. I just don't think I could carry off this British penchant for bangs (which they call a "fringe). Just a trim and a bit of a clean up. My ends were getting a bit ratty.
I got home, made dinner, and watched more online TV. This time it was Forgetting Sarah Marshall, which I had heard was funny. It was, but I think it would be funnier if I had watched it with other people.
It's been kind of lonely since I got back from Durham. All of my flatmates are gone. All of my friends have gone home. Stephen and Pawel are still around, since they live in Norwich, but I haven't seen them yet. I think we might get together tomorrow night. I'd like to see them before I leave. I never thought I'd want to go home for Christmas, and I'm glad that I'm not. Istanbul will make for a far more exciting Christmas vacation. It's just that seeing everyone else go home for Christmas makes me wish I was, too. For the first time, I'm really missing the comforts of home. Being with Erica didn't help much, either. I mean, I'm really glad I saw her. I haven't spent that much time with her in ages and she's one of the only people I can talk to about absolutely everything. But she was planning her trip home, and we kept talking about Dickinson, our two years past, our year to come. It made me nostalgic for home.

I literally didn't do anything today. I've spent the last three hours writing this blog. I talked to Fadi on Skype. I wrote a couple short emails. I read the Wikipedia entry on Istanbul. I might have watched an episode of Buffy this morning. I can't remember. I haven't even gotten dressed. I'll probably make dinner sometime soon, but this will probably be another night spend in my room watching a movie online. Tomorrow I need to pick up a couple things at the post room, do my laundry, and start packing. I'd like to maybe hang out with Pawel and Stephen, too.

I'm really excited for my trip this break. It'll be very long, and I'll probably be broke by the end of it, but it should be good.
My schedule:
Dec 22 - Take the train down to London and stay at a hotel by Heathrow for the night.
Dec 23 - Leave at 9:45 from Heathrow to Istanbul to meet my parents at the airport.
Dec 23-27 - Christmas in Istanbul
Dec 27 - Fly with the family from Istanbul to Munich
Dec 27 - 30 - Munich, seeing Neuschwanstein Castle and Linderhof Palace
Dec 27 - Family flies home. I fly to Belfast, Northern Ireland to meet Alex and Erica.
Dec 30-Jan 1 - New Year's in Belfast
Jan 1-2 - Travel north to and stay a night at the Giant's Causeway
Jan 2-5 - South to Dublin
Jan 5-6 - Take the ferry from Dublin to Holyhead, Wales. Stay the night.
Jan 6-11 - Train to London, staying at the Arran House.
Jan 11 - I head back to Norwich. Classes start the next day.

So, as you can see, I have quite a busy schedule ahead of me. It should be good, though. I'm very excited. I don't feel "holiday season-y," exactly. I can't imagine feeling Christmas-y in Istanbul, bit I'm willing to forfeit the traditional holiday cheer for some jet-setting.

Time to plan Spring Break.

End of Term Update

I apologize for the infrequency with which I have been updating this blog. My only excuse is that it has been a very busy end to my term here in Norwich.

Unfortunately, since it has been so long, I will not be able to remember exactly what I've been doing since my last post, nor in much detail, but here is my attempt.

I believe I left off saying that my next event was another LitSoc discussion. If I recall correctly, it was slightly more successful than the previous one, but there was not as much food. I think it was just Alan, Chad, Hannah, and I, and we read a couple poems that I had found on the New Yorker website and sent to Siobhan. Oh well. We can't all be the Literati.

Moving on. Thursday, Nov. 20, the Humanities students went to the Norwich Theatre Royal to see the Royal Shakespeare Company perform Romeo and Juliet. I headed over with Leah, Juli, Lauren Deitz, Meghan, and Zach. The quickest way to the theatre was through Chapelfield Mall, so we walked through the mall and came out to the courtyard where there was a juggling show going on. We stayed to watch for a few minutes and then started off toward the theatre. But no sooner had we gotten away from the mall then we saw a huge crowd gathered outside the Forum and City Hall. Curious, we walked over and asked what was going on. It was the Great Christmas Lights Switch-on, we were told, and we got there just 20 seconds before all the Christmas lights in the area were turned on. There was a choir singing carols in front of City Hall, Father Christmas came out, and fireworks shot off the roof of City Hall and across the street near the market. We were all giddy like small children, trying to catch the fake snow and giggling, "It feels like Christmas!" It was really nice to be part of a big commuity gathering like that, since Christmas, cliche as it is, is a time to gather together and celebrate.

But we couldn't celebrate for long, since we were due at the theatre. I hate to say it, but I really do not like Romeo and Juliet. It's probably my least favorite Shakepearean play that I've read, and I've never seen a performance of it that I've enjoyed. Unfortunately, that was still true at the end of the night. You'd think the Royal Shakespeare Company would be qualified enough to take what is a very difficult play to perform because of how cliche it is and transform it into something enjoyable. Not so. They basically turned it into some sort of "The Godfather" motif, used switchblades as their "rapiers," and would snap and freeze-frame for asides, then snap to return to action. If I wanted that, I would have just gone to see West Side Story. Also, most annoying, was that the Balcony Scene was NOT done on a balcony. They didn't even try. Juliet was standing on her bed, leaning over the headboard facing the audience, while Romeo stood next to her, looking up and pretending that she was several feet, not inches, above him. It didn't work. I don't care how "experimental" they were trying to be. The Balcony Scene HAS to be done on a balcony. The acting was all right, but I would have expected better from the RSC. I still haven't decided what I thought of Juliet. I didn't like the character, but that's because she was played as if she were a 13 year old girl...which she is. She threw tantrums and was impulsive and silly, everything that a normal 13 year old girl would be. But Juliet is this classic tragic heroine who dies for love, a symbol of romance, and to see her degraded to her realistic state just sort of killed the romantic mood. The only actor I really liked was the one who played Friar Lawrence. He was easily my favorite character in this rendition. He was the wise old advisor, but he had a cheeky side, too, and was often funny. I think the actor did very well, because Friar Lawrence can be a very boring character if played badly. All in all, though, I did not enjoy it. I think Romeo and Juliet will just never work for me. It also didn't help that the audience was full of annoying 12 year olds who wouldn't shut up and would "oooh" at every kissing scene.
My friend Alex and two of his flatmates were at the theatre, too, and I met up with them once the show was over. I went back to them to Alex's flat, and he and I watched a couple episodes of Bottom before I got too tired and went home.

It snowed sometime during that week, as well. Snow in mid-November would be odd enough in Carlisle or Leesburg, but apparently it's extremely odd here in Norwich. If it snows at all here, in snows in late January or February. And it hardly ever accumulates. This time it was enough for people to make pretty substantial snow men. And EVERYONE was excited about it. I went into my Shakespeare class the following Monday and the first thing anyone talked about was the snow. I must have had three people ask me if I had gone out to play in the snow...which I didn't, unfortunately. I think I take snow for granted, supposing that it will just happen again. From what I hear about Norwich, that might be all I get for the year.

I know something happened on Tuesday of that week, too, but I can't remember. If it suddenly strikes me, I'll come back and edit.

Wednesday, Nov. 26, I can't remember what I did during the day, but in the evening I went over to Unthank Rd. (Prof. Rudalevige's house) to help his wife Christine make pies for Thanksgiving. A bunch of us went over together and we spend a few hours helping. At one point Prof. Rudy ordered a ton of Indian food for us, and we basically pigged out, made pie, and went home. I'm sorry I can't be more specific, but those are the highlights.

Thursday, Nov. 27, of course, was Thanksgiving. In the afternoon we all went over to Unthank for dinner. Instead of our usual picnic-round-the-living-room style of eating, we had tables with table settings. Rudy's kids Eliza and Owen had been kind enough to make us each our own hand turkey place cards. Christine was wonderful and made a TON of food, including a stuffed mushroom to accomodate Leah's and my vegetarian needs. I don't generally like mushrooms, but this was delicious. There were mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, corn, green beans, cranberry sauce...oh, it was wonderful! I'm not sure what was stranger, to be honest: Having Thanksgiving in England or not having Thanksgiving with my family.
After dinner had finished and pie had been eaten, we somehow ended up playing charades in the living room.

Friday, I can't exactly recall what I did. I know it was my dad's birthday and I talked to him on Skype, even though he was sick and lying on the couch all day. Sorry, Dad.

Saturday I went over to Unthank to babysit for Eliza and Owen. Except for a little tantrum when I was trying to get Eliza to bed, they were really well-behaved. I even taught them to play Jungle Speed, but Eliza wasn't terribly interested and it only works with three people or more. We ate dinner, watched X-Factor (British American Idol) for a while, and then it was time for bed. Once I had finally gotten them to bed, I sat down to watch TV, which was strange. I haven't had access to a TV since London, and I didn't have time to watch TV at the Arran House. So I flipped through channels and found that Doctor Who was on. Ironically enough, it was the episode that my flatmate James had been telling me about for weeks, where the Doctor goes to a planet that is suspended in orbit around a black hole, held there by some force. There is a mining operation on the planet to find the source of the energy, and it turns out to be Satan, trapped in the center of the planet for all eternity. It was a really good, very interesting episode. Unfortunately it was in two parts, and only the first one was on. So I watched an episode of House and did some reading before Prof. Rudy and his wife came home. Oh, and they let me do my laundry, which was much appreciated.

I woke up Sunday morning and watched the second half of the Doctor Who episode. I can see why it's such a popular show over here. That episode as particularly well-written, but they're not all like that. However, it's pretty addictive and people get really wrapped up in it. There's a huge controversy now because David Tennant, the actor who plays the Doctor, is leaving the show after this next season. Several people have played the Doctor, which they get away with by saying that each time the Doctor dies, he takes a new body. In any case, since David Tennant is leaving the show, they have to cast a new Doctor. It's all very secretive and no one knows who the new Doctor will be, but you can place a bet, if you want.

I've also discovered and become obsessed with this BBC children's show called Young Dracula. It's sort of corny, but it works, in its own way. Basically Count Dracula, his son Vlad, and daughter Ingrid have been chased out of Transylvania by an angry peasant mob and have come to living in the ruins of an old castle overlooking a small suburban British town. Vlad just wants to be a normal kid and befriends the town's vampire-obsessed geek Robin. Ingrid is a particularly nasty teenager who is ignored by her father. In the second episode a incompetent father-son duo of vampire slayers comes to town, discovers that Vlad's family are all vampires, and spend the rest of the series trying to slay them. There are some other odds and ends, but it all makes for an interesting child-friendly interpretation of the vampire mythology. I'm surprised that I don't hate it, considering how it warps traditional vampiric themes, but it's cute. And the actor who plays the Count, Keith-Lee Castle, is particularly entertaining.

Let's see. What else? Somewhere between all this YouTube watching, I actually did some research for my three end-of-term essays and went to class. On Tuesday, Dec. 2 Chad, Leah, Lauren Deitz, and I went to the LitSoc pre-LCR bash for the Skool Daze LCR. Corie was kind enough to lend me her school tie and a button-down shirt, so I felt like a Harry Potter character, even though almost all school kids here wear uniforms. It was fun, but I only stayed at the LCR until midnight, then went back home. I've been feeling ill and tired for a while, so I didn't want to stay too late.

On Friday, Dec. 5, we got up absurdly early to catch a train to Cambridge. There, Prof. Rudy's old college friend Dr. Bert Vaux, Professor of Linguistics and Fellow of King's College, Cambridge, took us on a tour around town. We saw the King's College buildings, went inside the beautiful chapel, and walked around the river. As we were walking, this guy in a punt called out to us and tried to get us all to agree to take a group punt tour with him and his friend who ran a punt tour service on the river. Betsy, I thought of you because he was charming and non-threatening, persuasive...and in a boat. Much like a certain Yatchsman. We did not, however, give in, and continued on our way to have lunch in the King's College dining hall. Although not Christ Church, Oxford's dining hall (the inspiration for Hogwarts's Great Hall), King's College's dining hall is still very pretty, and vastly superior to our cafeteria at Dickinson. After lunch we went to Prof. Vaux's rooms to discuss Oxbridge-style higher education in England. It's pretty intense, and I honestly don't know if I'd be able to handle it. Looks like there's a significant gap between the Oxbridge standards of education and UEA's.
After our meeting with Dr. Vaux we were free to wander town on our own. Chad and I did some Christmas shopping and then I dragged him to Christ's College, alma mater of Milton. There wasn't much to see there, but I was happy enough to know that I was walking the same paths that Milton once traversed. We wandered around town a bit more, finally settling down for dinner at The Mitre pub, and getting a train back to Norwich. I agree with most people. Cambridge is far nicer than Oxford.

I know I spent the weekend working on essays. I wrote my Shakespeare essay on plays-within-plays and my Medieval Writing essay on Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. Matthieu came over on Saturday night and we had dinner. Sunday night was the last Circus meeting. It was rather disappointing. No one showed up except Matthieu, Samantha, the officers, and I, and people were too lazy to actually get equiptment, so we just sat around talking for a couple hours. Then Matt and I went to the pub to try and find Alex, since his birthday was the next day. I gave Alex his birthday present (a Tic-Tac-Toe Rubix Cube) and gave both him and Matt their Christmas presents (a book on English swear words for Matt and a book of foreign pick-up lines for Alex, since he claims to be 100% British and a perfect speaker of the English language, despite the fact that he was born and raised in Greece). We went back to Alex's room to watch a couple episodes of Fawlty Towers, bickered, had a tickle fight, and wished Alex a happy 19th birthday once the clock struck midnight.

Monday, Dec 8, I spent working on papers. In the evening we went to Rudy's house one last time to wrap up our fall semester, eat one last meal of Christine's amazing cooking, and play Yankee Swap. I ended up with a tub of McVitie's Mini Digestives, which were delicious. The funniest gift of the night, though, was when Chad opened the UEA Naked Calender, shrieked, fumbled, put it face down on the ground and sat on it. He eventually traded it for Chris's chocolates.

Tuesday I polished my two UEA papers and started my paper for HUM 310 on Victorian medievalism, religion, and neo-Gothic architecture. For both of my Dickinson papers so far, I've written on architecture for some reason. It seems I've found a hobby. None of my papers are up to my usual standard, which bothers me. I'm not particuarly happy with anything I've written this year. I found the writing process extremely difficult for these last papers, though, since I have been plagued with England ADD since I got here. I don't know what it is, exactly, but I can't seem to concentrate on work. The internet is a dangerous thing, and YouTube has taken so much of my time, but I could get distracted by that just as easily at home. It's not that I'm not interested in my work. I really enjoy doing all the research, taking notes, learning about my topic. I just can't make myself sit down and punch out a decent essay. Now I'm nervous about going back to Dickinson and having to write a 50 page thesis, which I want to take very seriously and do well on. I'm sure once I get back into a more academic atmosphere, the spark will return to me. Until then, though, I'll have to put some more effort into my work for next semester.

I worked some more on Wednesday and Thursday, and I turned my HUM 310 paper Thursday afternoon. Friday I went to the LitSoc Holiday lunch at the Mad Moose Pub. A good 15 people were supposed to show up but, once again, it was just me and the officers, and Siobhan's friend Krissy. We ate, talked, and played a little Apples to Apples before wishing each other a Merry Christmas and heading off. That night I went over to Matthieu's house since he had offered to cook me dinner, and we spent some time hanging out, since he was leaving very early the next morning for London and I wouldn't see him until January.

Yesterday I got up, made myself breakfast, and took a bus down to the train station so I could catch the 9:57 train. I did catch the 9:57 train...just not the right one. Instead of getting the one that went out to the West Midlands, I ended up on a local train that went to Lowestoft. I knew it sounded wrong when they annouced the stops. In any case, the guy on the train was really nice and wrote a little note on my ticket that ended up being a free pass on every train I was on the rest of the day, since I ended up missing all of my intended trains. Finally, at 3:15, I made it to Durham, where Erica picked me up at the train station. Durham is a beautiful old city. Unlike Norwich, it's kept a lot more of its medieval charm. The castle is a far more impressive castle than ours, and the cathedral is enormous. Durhman University is set up like the Oxbridges, with Colleges within the university scattered throughout the town. Erica is at St. Chad's College. Anyway, that's where I am now, sitting in Erica's room, which as a gorgeous view of the city. Last night we had dinner with some of her friends and went on a bar crawl to several of the other colleges' bars. There will be another update once this trip is done. Now it's off to see the St. Chad's Christmas pantomime, which is Aladdin themed. Should be interesting.

Oh, and I need to rant on the National Health Service. But that will come later.