Hello? Who is it?

It's London calling!

Big Ben!

yes, I went to London on Friday but for some reason, it was not what I had expected. Far too big for my taste, unfortunately. We took the train in, which was wonderful because each friday they have planned trips for us for free! (or perhaps a minimal charge). I wish I'd known this, however, before I set off and bought my BritRail pass because now we've got free trips each weekend and I don't know who wants to go with me anywhere. Updates to come. So far, I know that we are going to Brighton next weekend, Salisbury/Stonehenge, Brasnose (a cottage that I have inevitably spelled incorrectly), perhaps the Globe Theatre....and perhaps something else? I don't know. But they're free!
The tube is a terrible place. My friend Liz said that sometimes they make an announcement that the tube has to stop because someone has just thrown themselves underneath. horrifying. The tube was hot and crowded and we all stood betwixt and between many people who I felt sure would suddenly reach into my pocket and find the phone, camera and train ticket that I had placed there. I kept one arm wound backwards around my backpack because mom prepared me to be robbed and mugged of all my worldly possessions. Of course, this did not happen, because I am a savvy traveler. And I have a wonderful informative mother.
We exited the subway smack dab underneith Big Ben. I would not have known it was him unless someone had mentioned it, because if you look up, you can't see his face:

We walked across the bridge towards Westminster Abbey and from the Abbey I could see Big Ben, The London Eye, Parliament and a double decker bus. I attempted to take a photo of all four at once and finally succeeded. I will spare you all of the mistakes and share with you what I deem the most touristy photograph I've taken yet!



Westminster was beautiful! What doors this place had Dad, I would have taken photographs except they were not permitted. I resigned myself to the fact that it was okay not to have captured it all on camera because we were not allowed to take photographs anyhow. It's all in my mind and I have fond memories indeed. I do find the burial for people who were so simple and pious in life to be a bit overdone in death, as if they were saving up. I got to see some famous people's graves/memorials though, which was neat. To name a few: Kippling, Yeats, Chaucer, Shakespeare, Handel, QE1, Mary Queen of Scots, Mary Tudor, ect. I was especially interested in Poets Corner, where memorial stones have been placed in memory of many poets and writers.  As I usually do when I am touring something historic, I got into my head and imagined as I walked about that I was wearing a long, beautiful gown and attending to my prayers. I know I will never pray or wear a beautiful gown but both of these would have been acceptable back then for me, certainly. The audio guide was quite informative and laced with choral renditions of songs that brought Grampie to mind. Has he ever sung there, I wonder....
It's amazing to think that everything here is so old, because nothing in the states is. I've stood on millions of old, dead people and walked across the same cobblestones as countless famous authors and other such cohorts. History is buzzing inside each stone on this island.
I began to not enjoy London when I exited the Abbey (and therefore my romantic stupor) and found myself quite alone and unable to find anyone in my group. After a moment of curious contemplation and a couple phone calls, and minutes of walking about, I found others again and off we set to the National Museum.  We did not have much time, as many of us planned to return to Oxford soon after due to exhaustion, so we were given a mere half hour to glance over everything! I know I shall have to return to soak in each and every painting, but at least I got to see the two paintings I most wanted to see; the Vermeers that Dad and Mom had told me so much about.  They were not two I would consider my favorites of his, but none the less, very good pieces of artwork. A trio of french boys asked the curator for "Vech-Meech" (key: pronounce very french-ly) and I smiled to myself; both at the accent and that others wanted to see the same paintings I had wanted to see.
after this it was home again, home again on a very crowded train.
note: I have no idea how to turn these photographs right-side-up so please bear with me.

a stroll next to the Thames?

SundaySundaySunday
today was sunday. The 4th of July. Somehow, I always manage to spend my holidays out of the country. First Thanksgiving, then Easter, and now Forth of July. Not that it matters, of course, I'd always rather be traveling. Unless it involves family of course, then I'd like to stay. What did we do today, you may ask? We went on a lonnnnng walk up the Thames to a town calledTo the town of Wythem today. Perhaps it’s spelled “Wytham” I actually don’t know at this moment. Our walk was simply lovely. We walked up the Thames to the town and then back. No, it was not that simple and there was plenty to see. About a meter beyond the train station the path split off into the bushes next to the Thames. Everything here seems to be in the bushes, I’m surprised everyone knows where they are going, signs are often quite obscured by overgrown vines and large flowers with winding stems, as these were. We wandered along this path and I could feel the ticks reaching towards my bare lower legs with their sticking legs, getting ready to take up temporary residence in my pale skin. We had not been walking long when I felt compelled to whip out my camera and take photographs. Everything here seems to be in bloom! Perhaps flowers prefer cool weather such as this and that is why flowers in the US are not so vibrant and overgrown as they are here. These flowers grew into the path, their petals brushing against my arm as I walked past, as if taunting me to stop to smell them, holding up our line of intrepid travelers. I also have the idea that, unlike Northampton, pedestrians are not in the right of way here. A person on their own two feet should be ready at any moment to be side swiped by a bicycle or a double-decker bus careening around the corner or the cobbled streets. Bikes do not slow down and paths such as the one we walked are not meant for walkers alone. It did not take me long for this to all become clear, of course, after I had nearly been run down by some bikers early in the walk. To our right was the Thames and to our left were shrubs upon shrubs and vines upon vines. I wish I were an adequate photographer because I cannot seem to do flowers justice when I photograph them. Alas.  I could picture meandering this path, parasol in hand, with my suitor of the afternoon, in Jane Austen’s time. As we went over a bridge, much like the one featured in Monet’s garden, the Thames came to be on our right and stretched out across the fields beyond. Geese dotted the water and soon filled it. As we came to a clearing of trees by a beach, the geese seemed to get into formation, as if attempting to cover the entirety of the water’s surface with their gray-feathered bodies. They looked expectantly at us, as if waiting to have their picture taken. I was only too happy to oblige. Geese and plants were not the only features of our walk, oh no. Canal boats painted bright colors lined the sides and I could not help but imagining living in a boat like them and fishing for my meals….not that I eat fish. The boats painted the picture bright with their bold, blocky colors and I was tempted to become a painter in an instant to capture their picturesque qualities. Along the Thames rowed groups in rowboats and two white-bearded men in a small sailboat, hauling themselves in to shore. Their white beards were grown out just so, giving one the image of a typical fisherman, such as the one in Tintin. They even matched!

Wytham was not anything to look at, really. Thatched roofs thickly covered the houses that were surrounded by walls that contained-but just barely-vivid flower gardens and roses climbing on every vertical structure. Yes, I am certain that the lack of constant sun and beating heat causes flowers to thrive here. I have never seen anything so beautifully and messily alive in the US.

I was exhausted when we returned and took to my bed at a rapid pace, to sleep until dinner, which was a BBQ on the back garden lawn. I can’t tell you how much I’ve been craving corn! Corn they did have, which was wonderful indeed. On the cob, however, is the only acceptable and delicious way to eat the vegetable, in my opinion. Oxford is simply beautiful, I cannot explain how it feels to be among the buildings that I looked at so many times on the internet in attempts to gain some sort of understanding of how I would feel when I got there. I am here now, I look out my window now and see the yellowed stone opposite me that belongs to the other half of our U-shaped building.

Speaking of our building, how could it not remind anyone of Harry Potter? When we live on staircases, as they did, and our bathroom is located in a dungeon? Classes begin tomorrow, I am tentative about my History of the English Language class, as I did not think of taking it initially but was rather placed there, but I will certainly give it a try; the textbook has been interesting (albeit DENSE) thus far.

OH! I forgot to mention that I joined the public library. Perhaps I did mention it, but the action merits mention a number of time over because it is the most wonderfully exhilarating fulfillment of a hope that I have had in a long time. What a friendly staff as well. Most people here tend to be friendly, actually. More to come, I plan to go tomorrow to take out a Jane Austen book. Just one, I don’t want to overdo it. 

The beginning!

July 3^rd, 2010                                                            Trinity College, Oxford University                       

Here I am! Welcome to Oxford, city of everything-I’ve-ever-dreamed-of! And it truly is, everything I’ve ever dreamed of, with it’s old buildings that have history between each and every brick, to the cobblestones over which have crossed so many famous feet. Oxford is truly a place I can call home. When I look up, something that I find too few people actually do often enough, I see nothing but blue skies and turrets that stand out so bold against them. These turrets are carved in intricate designs and some even have gargoyles clinging to their edges! Each step I take, I am imagining myself during Elizabeth’s time or the time of Mary Tudor, wearing my beautiful gown and walking through the streets here on my way to a ball or a high tea. Yes, this is indeed the life I wish for myself and I see it as a plausible future for myself, expatriate that I already am.

The train ride here was oh so much more preferable than a bus ride, and I found that it was quite easy to maneuver, albeit quite expensive as well. Don’t roll your eyes, I know I’m cheap and life (especially experiences) costs money. Outside the windows passed flocks of sheep and cows, dotting the hillside as frequent as hedges, although, with their spots and dots, quite in contrast to the hedge’s green hue.  In my mind, I walked up narrow paths to the manors I was just barely able to glimpse on top of the livestock-covered hills. These were the manors of Austen, Bronte and others and I was just a pane of glass and a couple miles per hour away! Being in transit is something of a wonder, not knowing where you are going to end up and having been in a whirl to leave where you came from. It’s almost as if it is an alternate universe or life, nothing belongs to you and you are so completely displaced at each point between points A and B.

Oxford station came up and off I got, dragging my large suitcase (which is, in fact, smaller and one fewer than everyone else’s, as I suspected it would be and as it always is) off the train and attempted to find lunch. There hadn’t been any on the plane and not at Temple Meads either, so when I found Marks and Spencer I was quite happy because a) I was hungry and b) I have fond memories of M&S from my last trip to the UK, when I went to see Katie in Edinburgh. I slipped into the small station-sized store and picked out some of their wonderfully cheap and delicious prepared foods. Maneuvering my large (but not too large) suitcase through the checkout line was a bit of a challenge, but I managed. There was, oddly enough, nowhere to sit outside the station so I towed my suitcase to a curb and sat down to eat my lunch. Everything here, even the prepared foods, is so fresh and I could feel the energy I needed seeping into my body. I was going to need it, because I had no idea how far away Trinity was from the train station, or even where it was, for that matter.  It turns out it isn’t that far away (perhaps a 20 minute walk?) but it seemed like forever uphill with this suitcase. I stopped ever couple meters to change would-be blistered hands.

Oxford is so lovely. Trinity is especially lovely, although I have not seen everything yet. My roommate was not here when I arrive but she had left me a note to choose a desk since she had chosen the bedroom. Luckily, she’d left me with the one I’d have chosen on my own. I went to set up my computer, ready to blog and low and behold, no internet. Well, after travelling and being exhausted, that just did it for me. I was so angry, I had no idea what to do. I’ll tell you what I did do though, I put away my clothes and unpacked everything. My room has cute drawers that are built into the wall underneath my window (of windows I have two) which looks out onto the Durham quad, between the chapel clock tower and my staircase, staircase 17. We truly do live on staircases, as you go up, there are about two rooms on each landing. Most of the rooms here, I gather, are singles but mine is a double with a common room. Our toilet…er….loo and showers are located in what we fondly refer to as, The Chamber Of Secrets because of it’s dungeon-esque qualities. My room does, however, have a sink. I haven’t been here a day and I’ve already gone up to my room only to realize that I need to use the loo. Good for my youth!

We’re off to a pub now, everyone’s arrived but I haven’t really met anyone. We’re to assemble at the porters lodge in about ten minutes to leave. I’m a bit nervous, because I haven’t met everyone but I suppose everyone else might be too, unless they all know each other already, having flown in together to Heathrow? I’m glad they thought of this activity though and it will get me off on a good be-social foot. Pictures of everything to follow!

in transit, or almost....cheerio!

July 2^nd, 2010                                                                                    Newark Airport

So here I sit. I cannot actually connect to the internet, so I am writing this on Microsoft word. Although I have nearly a five hour layover, I know I will not be board because I am in a public place. People watching is such an accessible activity, especially at an airport like Newark that flies people hither, thither and yon every second. But let’s begin at the beginning (a very good place to start).

            My goodbyes were short and I spent more time waving at my family than hugging them. I’m so darned sentimental though and as my plane pulled away from the gate, I wiped tears from my eyes, as usual. Silly, I know, to be so sad to leave the people you love most for six weeks. I have traveled so many times before and although I am always on my way to somewhere different, the feelings are the same. Anxiety, nerves, excitement, sadness, the brief moments of wet eyes before I realize how silly I’m being and turn my face to the air conditioning above my seat to dry my tears. I flew one of those small airplanes, the express jets, which have the seating configuration of 1 and 2. These planes are wonderful for those who love turbulence, because you can feel every slight bump like a residual lump in not-quite-mashed potatoes. I slept for the entire 31 minute flight; the pilot seemed to like to fly sideways…..so I kept my eyes closed. I deplaned in Newark and lugged myself and my two bags through the terminal to the wing where my plane takes off. I am glad that I don’t have to carry more bags, especially my suitcase, which somehow weighs 40lbs! This is unexpected for the girl who can go to Europe for 3 weeks with a 19 lb suitcase. Although, I suppose if you multiply 19 lbs and 2 weeks by two, than you get 40 lbs and six weeks, so I’m not doing too badly. I do not yet have a gate because my flight does not leave until nearly nine. For now, I people-watch. OH! There is my favorite PSA: “This is a special announcement, for security reasons, unattended baggage will be removed immediately for inspection and may be damaged or destroyed.” How caring.

Let’s see…who has passed thus far….

A family with a little boy running at the front, on his head was a costume hat from an Asian airline. The boy had obviously been given the hat, which sported a long black braid down the back and stood out against his blond hair, on the flight. The striking thing about the family, was that they had obviously all flown to Asia to adopt a baby girl, who was being perambulated by her mother through the airport in a stroller, looking wide-eyed at everything. Apparently, I am more sentimental than I have ever thought, because this too brought tears to my eyes at the remembrance of my own trip of this nature.

A man entirely in purple just passed (obviously European because only European men are comfortable with themselves enough to wear that sort of thing), two women with cute green shoes, two male flight attendants who are talking about marriage: “Never been married?” “Nope, never been married,” a girl in a completely….bright peach tracksuit, two groups of teens from the same tour group, one male and one female. I could not read their shirts, no matter how hard I tried not to stare at them. Multiple women in cute skirts with adorable shoes, one women in cheetah-print stilettos. Now, why would you wear high heels on an airplane fight? Sounds terrible to me. On the other side of that coin was the girl dressed in her pajamas. I wouldn’t wear that either. There is a girl opposite me who is doing as much inconspicuous (or not) people-watching as I am, and is obviously writing it in her journal, or making some sort of note of it, as I am. I have a feeling we would make good friends. Perhaps she is writing of me, just as I am writing of her. I have a fondness for the European men who wear capris. Man-pris, they are also called. I love that they know it’s okay and wish this style would come to the US. Although perhaps not because then it wouldn’t be so wonderful anymore and rather normal.

The family sitting next to me on the “for anyone benches” is German, although I am not sitting close enough to hear what they are saying.

I feel alone. And hot. Mom and Dad sent me a wonderful picture on my cell phone of them smiling. It made me so happy and I intend to save it to my computer so I can look at it often when six weeks seems too long. Six weeks will not, however, seem too long, because I am going to have a wonderful time. I can just hear the streets of England, lined with thatched houses and the moors of Scotland calling me. They speak in hushed tones and dance around my head, taunting me to come faster. If only I could. This day did sneak up on me, it was here before I knew it. I scarcely know how I got to this very spot in time, it seems such a blur. My head aches and I can’t help but wonder what I did to be so tired and ill-feeling except pack (this morning!) and bid goodbye to my family. The last image in my mind is of my family waving to me from the observation tower as I walked across the boarding strip to my plane. I turned my face to the wind although I could see their arms, pale in contrast to the tinted windows, waving rapidly back and forth. I sound like I’m writing a terrible goodbye novel, but I do love my family beyond all else and no matter how much fun I have when I’m away and how many times I’ve travelled, I feel a piece of my heart stay with them. But the German boy who has decided to sit quite close to me and squeak brings me back to the present; a noise that would have bothered me if emitted by my siblings but is strangely ignorable from him. That, and another pair of cute green hiking shoes. It is almost as if the shoes themselves are parading past me at blocked out intervals to attract my attention to the present moment.

I look at all the passing people, in hopes that I will recognize some of them or even one of them and make a contact before they all fly out to Heathrow. I am hoping that I am able to manage my suitcase, although I am sure I will find, as I always do, that it is smaller than the other suitcases in it’s cohort.

Flight attendants in mono-chromatic uniforms with perfect hair-ever the mystery, girls in shorts that may as well be underwear, families with unruly children, groups of young teenagers, young men travelling alone or in pairs, foreign families, several German families, many striped shirts, designer bags and silly designer shoes, an English family that reminds me why I am sitting here in the first place. I do often get lost in my thoughts. I need a drink but I am reluctant to walk through this airport trying to find one that may very well be priced at the dear amount of $4.00. They love to give drinks on the airplane, as if their sadistic little minds love seeing the person in the window-seat get up to use the lavatory 10 times during the flight, easily disrupting his seatmates in the process. Another pair of cute green hiking shoes and a chocolate bar. More cute hiking shoes, not green, but comfortable-looking nevertheless. Large hiking backpacks pass on the backs of three young adults, out to find themselves or perhaps returning to tell others what they’ve found.

How DO you get to ride one of those airport taxis?

the last day

You may ask yourself why, if you even followed me this far, I have only written about the first and last days.
Those of you who have traveled, especially on a program or for business, know that days are jam packed with activities and things to do. I often didn't get back from the activities until 11pm whereupon I would have to share the internet with my 4 other roommates. I'm not complaining, simply explaining my absence. I intend to update you all on everything upon my return to the states. Promise. It will be good for me to relive it and make it more vibrant. Maybe it will be more vivid after it's had a chance to sit and stew a bit, and it will come out being more poetic as opposed to simply a recounting of the day's events. The truth is, I do actually really enjoy blogging.

so here I am in the lobby of my second hotel. I'll first explain how I got to be in a different hotel than I was in initially so you don't think I did something terrible or illegal and got myself kicked out of the other one. Also, for the record, I should be sleeping right now. But enough about that.
So I'm in a new hotel because one girl we six from Smith are traveling with has an uncle who owns a hotel here. We are staying for free but it was only one night. Tonight at midnight we fly home. What a terrible time to leave midnight. I feel as if my hands are moving in slow motion because I am slowly falling asleep. This week I have been getting less and less sleep. I went to a wedding last night, invited by my friend Doni (who you will meet when I get home and have the time and energy to put together words that do her justice) and we were out until 3am. A bit late for me. Upon returning to the hotel, I thougght I had lost my contact lens case and I looked EVERYWHERE. it was nowhere to be found. Little did I know that it was in the bathroom. Okay, fine, but please tell me whether you want to go to a wedding and come back at 3am to find that you can't go to bed because you've no place to put your contact lens.
I swear (or Walla! in Arabic), someone is putting heavy weights on my eyelids, for they keep threatening to close and force me to rely on my fingers to type words that I am unsure will be comprehensible.
I'm actually going to sign off here. I planned to actually write something but at the moment I am simply too tired. I fear that what I wrote for you would be a bunch of nonsense. I admit, that would be funny, however, I would like to remember as it happened.
goodnight. seriously. at 3:00pm.

day two!

Hello there,

internet is more difficult to come by than I had initially thought it would be. I had to wait five minutes for this page to load, no joke. It's longer for some others. But enough of that, here I am now!!
****a word about the posting of photos on this website. I cannot post photos of the DWC girls because they do not want their images on the internet (understandable) and so I won't post as many wonderful pictures but you can come ask me for them if you would like to see some of the wonderful women I spend my week with!
Today was another day full of beautiful weather! I know I didn't finsih telling about yesterday but I will get to that when I have time. I'm keeping a journal but these things take up time I really don't seem to have. We're pretty scheduled here. I'm sure you all were expecting something a bit more stimulating and well written; well to tell you the truth, so was I. I have no idea how I could have ever thought that I would end up with enough time to write such a blog but it was a nice thought. Perhaps there is still a chance for redemption.

Today we learned about the Islamic courts and law, especially pertaining to child custody. I had no idea prior to hearing this lecture, that men and women had many equal rights and allowances in Islam. There are many laws which out-rightly lay out the fact that women have agency. Such things are never spoken about in "typical western culture" and I think having it stated as it is with Islam forms a mutual understanding of men and women as equals in many respects. This is, of course, broken in countries where Muslim woman's rights are undermined. We were taught today that men in Afghanistan who force their daughters to to marry against their will or desires will answer to Allah at the end of their lives. I thought it was a beautiful thing to recognize the girl's right to get approve or reject the husband even if the parents are doing the selecting.  We acted out a simulation of a child custody case in the Islamic court after this lecture. It was quite interesting because it deteriorated quickly. I played lawyer, which is mostly likely the closest I will ever get to being one. Children of lawyers don't usually become lawyers themselves, I've heard. It was an interesting exercise because it made us girls think critically about the law and what we had learned from the speaker.
gosh. days here seem so long.
I should be so much more elaborate about this because if I had time, it would be flowery and full of emotion and imagery. But it's not, the internet is wonky (to use Groove's favorite word) and I'm tired after long days. It may be only 4:41 to you all right now, but add 8 hours to that and you've got me sitting in the lobby with drooping eyelids.
We took our first fieldtrip in the afternoon! I'm so surprised about the weather here, I should mention, because it isn't oppressive and hot like I had expected, but rather warm and humid and is quite pleasant with a breezy breeze. I find myself quite comfortable which is a relief because the concept of weather had been causing me a great amount of anxiety before I came. Heritage Village was our first stop. I brought this laptop with me to the college today so I had to bring it on the bus. Unfortunately, I spilled a bit of my tea inside the bag from inside the thermos but luckily not much was wet. Later, when I returned to the bus, I would learn that because I was stupid and put the teacup back into my bad (?!), it had leaked again and made everything wet. including my laptop. in it's case. luckily, it still works great! I'm one lucky chick. note to self and of course to the general public; don't put tea thermoses in a bad with important possessions, it's airtight twist-on lid could leak tea ALL over your bag and all of the things you love. Nope, I'm not annoyed at this ocurrence at all.This village was
hold on. I've got to end. I need to help with a seizure.

a beginning- at long last!

Well here I am. In the UAE. who'd have ever thought that I'd find myself in the middle east so soon?
 It was 1am when I finally arrived at the hotel, but oddly enough, I couldn't sleep. After having been in first the US, then Vienna and now Dubai, I felt as though someone had come and bent the hands of my internal clock all out of joint. No matter where I do, I can always wake up early, but then I just accumulate tiredness and loose sleep.Definitely not a positive correlation there. Somehow, however, I've been blessed with wireless internet. Although I am not able to use it in my room, I am now able to use it in the lobby without having to worry that it's going to cut out on me.
I need to tell you all about everything, but lets just begin from when I entered Dubai. I will leave the Vienna part off for now because that's another story completely and I want to get this while it's still fresh in my mind.
Let me just say something about the Dubai airport. It looks like a dance club or something out of a film or better yet, a giant resort. The entire city is as if it were a giant resort and I suppose in many ways, it does have resort characteristics. There is though, as with most places, a history that I hope to learn tomorrow.
If you ever have the chance, please fly Emirates Airlines! Even if you aren't the super lavishly rich person in the airplane seat that has it's own compartment, you are still guaranteed a very comfortable flight. All stages of my life were completed by this ride; the ceiling lit up with LED constellations like my ceiling at home, I could make my own playlist (yes, I did indeed spend about 4 hours doing that...) and the seats were comfortable (satisfying my old woman elements). Overall, I'm a fan. Also, they have lovely lotion in the bathrooms.

As we stepped off the airplane onto the airstrip (where we caught a bus to the terminal), I was surrounded with air that was not humid and oppressive as I had originally imagined I would be, but rather, the sort of warm that only tingles your nose and causes you to think of Spring. Being tired, I was not so inclined towards good posture and slumped my way all the way to baggage claim. My initial thoughts of the airport were something to the affect of "where the heck am I?!" As we rode the tall escalator down, the main part of the arrivals hall rose in front of me like the Christmas tree in The Nutcracker. First came the pillers of silver; as big as redwoods around and as shiny as you imagine, reflecting in panels. The second pillers beyond the passport  checking point are ivory with flecks of sparkles. I would not object to having a sandbox made with that sparkly stone.

I need to go to sleep now. I will finish this tomorrow. Don't go longing for me now.