Come With Me

I'm ready to come home.

What's Forbidden Has Been Boldly Bitten

All I want to do is drink sangria and cook Mexican feasts all day every day.

Springtime In Sweden

It doesn't matter where we are when it happens. When I'm with Ben I have fun. It just so happens that we were in Sweden, the place he's been pining over for the last several years. I don't blame him.

I could describe to you in great deal all that we did and saw: the cave motif of the Stockholm train station, each drink we drank, the bike/person continuum, the Nation we danced at, his huge apartment (at least three times as big as mine), the fairy tale scenery, the sea of drunk young people for Valborg, the falafel, our epic meal, our hangovers...but I don't think any of it is that important. What I got most from my time in Sweden was a feeling of affection for Ben and for the people he loves. From the instant I met Anna and Patrick I completely understood why he was friends with them and I loved them without question. They are such wonderful people and I'm lucky to have met them. Of course, it was wonderful to see my other half.

Again and again and again and again

It never ends!

A Break from Wine

Walking through Dublin is like a perpetual game of Laser Tag. This is only kind of a joke. See, the cross walks make the most ridiculous sounds, so much so that when I was intended to cross the street all I could think of was being released from the Briefing Room and into the game. For those of you who aren't avid laser taggers, what I mean is that being in Dublin is like living in the future. Except everyone is a lot less attractive than you'd hoped and imagined...
Aside from that, my trip revolved almost entirely around three things: James Joyce, grassy fields, and beer. I have no complaints.
Cameron and I went to the Guinness factory where I got unreasonably drunk off my free pint that was included in the entry fee. This was my fault, because for whatever reason I had convinced myself it would be easier/better to stay up all night rather than having to wake up for my early flight. This resulted in a useless half an hour of sleep that night, intense grumpiness, four naps, and general discontentment. Whatever though, right?
We also went to several writing-oriented museums and centers, parks with lovely sunshine and several pubs.
Then there was the volcano. To be fair, I can't even be that mad about it. It's too funny. I got trapped in Ireland because of a volcano. My flight out was cancelled, I had to take a ferry to Holyhead where I stayed overnight in the train station for eight hours in and out of consciousness, and was on various trains for the next five hours until finally I got back to home sweet New Cross because of a volcano. This appeals too much to my sense of humor to really be that upsetting.
In all honesty, though, I've never missed a place as much as I missed New Cross for those few days. I was completely ecstatic to get back. And the following day other people started trickling in and we ended up having a bit of a welcome back party. It feels good to be home.

I've met someone

Dear Solitude,

It's been great. I've missed you. However, considering the near future, my close relationships with the people I love, and the fact that you are a fair weather friend, I'm going to have to end things for now. Though I'm sure we'll meet again, it just isn't the right time in my life. Thanks for all of the fantastic music you've shared with me.

Until next time,
Rachel

Tricks and Treats

Most mornings while in Paris my friends and I would wake up and I would initiate a conversation about our dreams. In one of mine, magic existed. The only thing was, no one believed me and I had no way of proving it. Thinking about our time in Paris now, it occurred to me that we'll never again go on a trip together, that exact group of people. I hope everyone else realises how magical it was.

I'm Just an Animal Lookin' for a Home

As promised, this is a TRAVEL update. It's funny, I've called this a 'Travel Blog' but to be honest Paris was the first legitimate trip I've taken. You know, aside from moving to London and all. Anyway, Paris was incredible and I've got loads to share with you, dear reader!
We arrived Samedi, le 27 Mars in the evening, argued about how to get to our hostel (though I'd looked it up just before leaving our flat) and eventually took the train to Gare du Nord where we promptly took the wrong exit and got lost. After too much walking in the wrong direction we finally made it, tired and a little grumpy (though our only rule was "No Being Grumpy In Paris." This was broken several more times). We met up with Kristen and Courtney, completing out group, and had a later dinner at BIP Burger across the street where I first dipped my toes in the icy waters of the French language. To my surprise, it went well. My confidence in my speaking skills were restored almost instantly and I ended up communicating for the entire group the majority of the time. Team Rachel: 1. We then searched for somewhere to drink and found a cute little place where we all had grenadine beer (mmm!) and James ate his first of something like eight French steaks. We think this may have caught up to him our last night there. I had a world of trouble sleeping the first night, and most to be honest, but it was all right. On day two we woke up early for the Bastille market which was full of fresh produce, cheap wine and gorgeous breads and cheeses. After spending a few hours there we embarked on our hunt for a dry place to eat. No such luck. Eventually we just say on the edge of some nondescript building that was shielded from the rain and had evaded the wet now covering the ground and all benches along our way towards Le Cimetière du Père Lachaise. Once there we visited the graves of Jim Morrison, Chopin and Oscar Wilde. Oscar's was the only one I really cared to see, and it was well worth the long trek to the back of the cemetery. It was a huge monument covered in lipstick kisses. After all this walking we had to take a nap and stayed near the hostel for the rest of the night. This was also when I met my first of many "French boyfriends." Make no mistake, this was not by choice. I had heard stories about aggressive (and often drunk Frenchmen) and how they act towards women, and was prepared for this, but GEEZ! This first one, Alex was highly intoxicated and could not speak a lick of English, but I was actually able to hold a descent conversation with him. I ended up writing my name for him on a pokemon card so he could find me on facebook, which, fortunately, never happened.
The next morning we woke up much later than planned. Fortunately, though, we had planned to explore Montmarte, the area in which we were staying so we didn't waste any time traveling. The first stop was Sacré Coeur. It's on top of a massive hill, but the climb up is gorgeous--loads of stone steps, green grass and lovely gardens. Then there's the view. After each tier of steps we tackled, we'd turn around for an increasingly breathtaking view of the city. By the end of it we were looking at the best view in Paris--and it was! I think maybe it was the first time I missed romance on our trip. My enchantment didn't last long: we went inside. The cathedral was huge and had amazing architecture, but it was absolutely haunting. Between the inappropriately ominous organ chords, the enforced silence, the vastness of the place, the comic-esque stained glass and the general feeling of cultish religious devotion and disapproval of me personally, I was pretty uncomfortable. We explored the rest of Montmartre including the artsy cafes and knick-knack shops, Moulin Rouge, a sex shop called Sexedrone, etc. That night we ate dinner and built a fort at the hostel where we played drinking games and may or may not have napped a little. We wanted to go somewhere but instead had grenadine beer on the benches outside the hostel. We had a long day ahead of us.
We started with the Jardin du Luxembourg, which was impressive, cute and relaxing. Then there was a lot of walking (through the Latin Quarter) in order to get to Notre Dame, which was also nice from the outside and a little intimidating within. We walked more, ate a nice (albeit expensive) lunch at a restaurant along the river where we all tried escargot. It wasn't bad. We continued on our way to Champs-Élyseés but had to stop at at least four pet shops, one after another, along the same stretch of road. Finally we reaches Champs-Élyseés, checked out a few shops, and ultimately walked the entire road to L'Arc du Triumph. I actually enjoyed this much more than I'd expected to. It was beautiful, huge and so intricate. I loved it. And then onward-ho in the direction of the Eiffel Tower. It was worth the journey. It was just getting dark when we reached it and it was absolutely incredible. The top tier was closed so instead of going up it we talked to the hill nearby and got to bask in its glory. And it was so glorious. After half an hour or so, we went for an over-priced and underwhelming bite to eat before heading back. Then the drinking began and I met "French boyfriend number 2." He actually kissed me and I was too tired to attempt to communicate but was able to fend him off fairly easily. Bed was nice that night.
Then it was Wednesday morning and everyone got up too late to do anything before my train left for Angers (Ahn-jhey...sort of). I took the metro to the most confusing center for public transportation I have ever been to. After wandering aimlessly, lucking into picking up my tickets, not seeing where my train was and actually getting on the wrong train, I finally found it in the nick of time. Angers was lovely. It's small but not rural. Cameron took me all around--to his university, the cafes and bars he frequents, to the river, the gardens, le centre-ville. I was mostly exhausted the entire time, but it was great. The first night we ate soufflé, which was probably my favorite meal in France. I returned to Paris on Friday.
Immediately upon arrival my phone died and I was unable to get in contact with my friends and ended up spending most of the day waiting around at the hostel. Aside from lunch. I went to a place just around the corner, and upon leaving some guy walking past outside stopped for a look at me. When I got out the door he was waiting for me. He spoke no English and only some strange dialect of French I was too tired to even try to understand. He followed me to the hostel where he proceeded to tell me he loved me, kissed me several times, and told me he'd meet me outside at 12 that night. I made certain to not be around at 12. Instead we met up with Sara's friend who studies in Paris and hit a few bars, one vaguely Mexican themed where we had margaritas.
The next day, our last full day in Paris, was kind of a bust. We went to Versailles and were severely unimpressed. For 13 Euros we had expected a bit more. At least entrance to the gardens. Oh well. When we went out that night James felt sick (maybe all the steak?) and Liam and I got into a stupid fight. Everyone went to bed kind of angry.
For our last day we went once more to the Eiffel Tower and had a nice time.

Overall, Paris was great. Maybe I'll see you there some day.

What I have learned in Paris so far...

-I am better at French than I realized.
-I am better with directions than I realized.
-I am generally more intelligent than I realized.
-Churches are kind of terrifying for me.
-I will probably live in this city some day.
-I can cope with stress better than most.
-E5 is the greatest place on Earth.
-London is home now.

Karma?

Just now, for the first time in London, I got completely soaked. This came right after a conversation with Joe about how nice the weather was today, how un-London it's been nearly the entire time I've been here--as much sunshine as rain, etc. I had the same conversation with my parents yesterday. It also came while I was alone, walking back from the grocery store where I bought all the necessaries to make my flatmates and friends dinner tonight. By myself. Sometimes I think maybe it's best to be a little selfish. At the same time, though, it wouldn't be London if I didn't get poured on at least once.

The best part is the rain has completely stopped.

I fought in a war

I've been reading my old journal entries recently and just came across Spring Break '09. This is funny for a multitude of reasons: most importantly, what the hell is Spring Break? We don't have that here and it seems completely ridiculous to me that anyone would. I can't waste two weeks coming up with "Spring Break '10, let's get thin???" etc, catch phrases (most of which would include drinking or something stupidly sexual) and that is a little sad. Previously it's been something to look forward to, but I have almost the entire month of April off. COME ON! Otherwise, though, that seems so unbelievably long ago. I can remember everything that happened last Spring Break: the playlist Bryce made me, the "bronzing" at Joe's pool, the air mattress, the puppies, the ticket, things I won't go into detail about...but I cannot even fathom the fact that that was only one year ago. My life is going by so fast and I've watched so much How I Met Your Mother I've forgotten how old I am. Suddenly I feel old and, honestly, a little heartbroken. At twenty I am mildly upset about being single.

Most importantly, however, no matter what state I am when I write in my journal I am fully capable of quoting pretentious song lyrics, and that assures me that everything is okay in my life.

Popsicles and Icicles

When I went into the kitchen this morning to fill up my water bottle I could have sworn I was in Texas. Between the lighting, the residual heat from the oven, my mood...the feeling was uncanny. It was so painfully Texas. It's easy to describe a place. There are something like 100,000 adjectives in the English language--words to describe the look, the texture, the sound, the taste and the scent of things. There are so many of them it seems that nearly anything could be explained. Somehow, though, there are no words to describe exactly this bizarre feeling of some kind of mistaken familiarity. Knowingly mistaken, at that. It's close to deja-vu, but that definitely isn't it. I couldn't tell you how strange and awful and beautiful it was to wake up and walk thirty feet from London into Austin. It got my heart racing, but as soon as I went to crack the window to get a better feel for it, the feeling subsided and disappeared forever.

Texas is a big place, and maybe a stranger one to be alone in than London.

Guts and things

I have no nice left in me, just saltwater.

Love me now or stand aside

There are things I miss about home. I miss my family and my friends, my car, having animals in my life, backyards, warmish weather, visiting people at work, a big bed, Bouldin, Spiderhouse, Tiny Bar, breakfast tacos, my mom doing my laundry, queso, running into people most places I go, Magnolia, Starseeds, Torchy's, every sandwich place ever, Boris Ralph's lair, driving through Travis Heights, theme parties, watching Hulu in bed, Joe's apartment, knowing how the education system works, the drive between Georgetown and Austin, "home"...


Mostly, though, I never want to go back.

isms

Okay, okay, I have a confession to make. I accidentally said "mum" for the first time a few days ago. It was completely unconscious and I immediately put my hand over my mouth, though I don't think anyone even noticed. That's just the tip of the iceberg with my new speech patterns. I have fully grasped saying "taking the piss out of someone" (ie making fun of someone) and "I can't be bothered" ("can't be asked" is another variation but because of my accent it doesn't work as well) and I'm pretty sure I pull those two off believably. I've even said "cheers" passably a few times. That one took a bit longer though. The one thing that still really gets me though is people asking "are you all right?". People will say it in passing like Americans say "what's up?" or "how's it going?" and it usually ends up coming out more like "you right?" or just "a'right?". It's totally rhetorical, but it really throws me off because when asked if I'm all right, it generally implies to me that something seems wrong. I figure that's pretty typical of Americans, innit? (That's "isn't it?" and something else funny to me that I cannot say in all seriousness).
There are also tons of differences in pronunciation (mostly in food) that I am constantly being made fun of for. That might be a bit harder to explain through typing, but I'll give it a go. First, there are obvious ones like tomato. My friend was eating tomato and basil bread and wouldn't stop laughing at me for not saying TOM-AW-TOW and BAA-SIL. Then there's risotto, which to my British friends is RIZ-AW-TOW and for some reason Liam thinks is the funniest mispronunciation EVER. To be honest, I really like hearing everyone make fun of our accents though. I find it very charming.
There are also differences in word usage. Obviously everyone knows to say toilet rather than restroom, but I think the more vulgar ones are the funniest and strangest. I'll spare you those. Just don't say "fanny" if you mean "butt" (or, rather, bum). I think we all get a kick out of hearing each other say things that just sound ridiculous.
Finally I feel like I need to address a self-realization that I've had here: I actually like being called Rache. Maybe it's something about the accent, but when my friends here (or even just acquaintances who somehow feel comfortable calling me that right off the bat) say "Hey, Rache," my heart melts just a little bit.

How To Get Yourself Homesick

To be perfectly honest, I didn't really want to do homestay this weekend. My flatmates were all making plans to do fun things and I would have much rather spent time with people I know I like. Gloucester (Somehow pronounced 'Glaw-stur') is a small town about 120 miles Northeast of London. It's best known for a cathedral where scenes from Harry Potter were shot as well as its historical docks. Apparently those are the only notable things in the town at all, and I never saw the docks. We arrived late on Friday night after a four hour coach ride. This wasn't as bad as it could have been--I slept most of the time. In fact, I feel like this whole weekend was an opportunity to catch up on missed sleep. So we got there around 10 at night and it was so uncomfortable I just wanted to go to bed immediately. I met the family: T, the father, who I'd guess was around 45, thin, bald and with the face of a bull terrier...but not nearly as cute. He was very nice though. Then there's Chris, the wife, who I would age in her late fifties and had to be about twice T's size. If I had to assign her a dog it would be a chow...but much fatter. She was also very nice, but I really didn't understand her humour and she seemed to be completely lost when I talked about English literature. All I said was "Renaissance"! I also (very briefly) met another exchange student who had been staying with them for two months but who left the morning after I got there. Her name escapes me, but that's really okay because she was not at all a significant person...she was about 16, German, spoke very poor English, and only spoke in complaints. I wasn't so sad to see her go. However, I found out the next day that I was the only student from our group who didn't get paired with someone else from the group. Just me and the fam. It took me a while to decide if this was a good thing or a bad thing--I don't particularly like any of the other students in that group--but I soon realised that the awkwardness with the family was quite a lot to handle.
So I went to sleep surprisingly early for me and got up early the next day for a group foot tour of the city with the other students. This was completely miserable: freezing weather and no gloves, the oldest possible tour guide who had nothing significant to say (mostly personal anecdotes about her travels to other places as well as the occasional "here's a really old building"), and loads of people who seemed to be trapped in 1998. Very strange. And I must add that the whole town seems to consist entirely of preteens and the elderly. I'm not sure how that happened, but it's quite unfortunate. So I walked around, saw some insignificant things and ate an unremarkable sandwich at a pub. The Harry Potter Cathedral was the highlight. When I got back to the Tanner home I took a long nap (I was shocked and impressed by my body's ability to sleep solely out of boredom) until dinner ("dinner"), which consisted of a soggy microwave quiche and the driest salad I've ever eaten. Yum!
But then the real fun began. I was told we were going to a gothic surprise birthday party for Chris' son's "partner". I didn't know gay people were aloud in such a rural town!! I was disappointed to find that, in fact, said partner was a woman. They worked together, I guess, but I also saw him touching her kind of inappropriately so I don't fully understand what exactly their relationship was. Whatever. It was interesting to see what a whale of a middle aged woman living in Gloucester thinks of as "gothic". I was disappointed. The party took place at some sort of event hall that was set up for an uncomfortable wedding reception. Eight tables with identical trashy purple and black decor and the number 30 everywhere. And we were early. So I sat with my host family, barely talking, until the bar opened and they started feeding me cider. And what could I do? The only thing to escape the massive boredom and awkwardness was to get a little tipsy. Once the party kicked off, the fun really commenced. The DJ played all of today's greatest hits including Wham's "Wake Me Up Before You Go Go" and the classic "Final Countdown" by Europe. The best part, however, was the cake. It actually had Marilyn Manson's face on it. I bet you were all wondering why I had a picture of him at the beginning of this post! Just for anyone who doesn't know that handsome face.
So we stayed too long and I immediately went to bed when we got back, slept late the next morning until I finally got to leave. And there went Gloucester!

Alas, Fun!

Finally I've started to get over my jet lag (it took about a week) and have actually been out and about and having loads of fun! I arrived at Goldsmiths Wednesday evening after a long coach ride from our hotel. It had started snowing quite hard when we were loading our stuff up, so everything looked absolutely beautiful as we were driving across town. Of course, the snow made it impossible to take pictures while on the coach, but I'm sure you'll all survive. I've got plenty of others. But on this drive for the first time I felt really and truly excited to be here. We got such an amazing look at the city and I couldn't help but be ecstatic. There was so much to take in--very overwhelming. But unbelievably awesome, of course.
When we got to campus I basically stayed in my room for a day and a half. I was tired still and didn't have the Goldsmiths orientation until friday, so I spent the majority of my time trying to catch up on sleep. On friday all of the visiting international students met up in a lecture hall where we were talked at for a few hours and then given a tour of the campus. Mostly everyone was freezing and didn't want to be outside, but I guess it was pretty beneficial. After that I was basically exhausted and went to bed at about 7:30. I awoke a few hours later to pounding at my door. After trying to ignore it for a few minutes, I got irritated and got up only to be tormented by a girl I hadn't met. I said a few unsavory words to her and shoved her out. I later learned this was a failed attempt at "Lads On Tour," a game invented by one of my flatmates. Ideally, it's where a big group of people bangs on an innocent victim's door and yell at them until they answer. When they do, the group rushes into the room, jumps on the bed, causes destruction and won't leave for quite some time. On this night, no one else wanted to do this to me because I'd just gotten in and was still suffering from jet lag and they all felt bad for me. Except for Bianca, who apparently tends to get out of control when she has too much to drink. This was all explained to me the next day when my flatmates came by to apologize for her. She did the same when I met her the following night. So it was obnoxious, but not too bad. The only reason I minded was because I had to get up early to take a foot tour of central London the next day.
So I did that. I left with the other American girl who lives in my flat, Sara, to the Main Building where a group of about 30 of us met for the tour, led by a pregnant giant with too much saliva. At least she was easy to spot in a crowd. We walked to New Cross Station, where we took a train to Waterloo Station to begin our tour. Before it even began, I saw Jonathan Waud from the show Make Me a Supermodel, which I think will only be appreciated by my mom. It was exciting though, he's very attractive! So with that good start, we set off, walking around Westminster seeing all the big sites. We saw the London Eye, the outside of the London Aquarium (I hope I can afford to go in at some point!), the Tower of London, the Houses of Parliament (last picture), Westminster Abbey (second from last picture), St. James' Park, Buckingham Palace (third from last picture)...lots of cool stuff. As most of you probably know, I'm not that interested in site-seeing, and this was only made worse by the intensely cold weather. Then after the tour we were to do a "Treasure Hunt," which is just a Scavenger Hunt with a more appealing name. So Sara and I teamed up and were immediately discouraged when we got our seven page (front and back!!) booklet of clues (our Treasure Map, if you will) filled with things like "Why is there a Korean Flag on Northcumberland Avenue?" and "Admiral Horatio Nelson lost his life at the battle of Trafalgar in 1805 fighting against Napoleon and his navy. Look up at his statue--and examine it closely--what else is missing from his statue?" WTF, right? We were also reluctant to fight the cold again. But we figured, what the hell? and it ended up being much easier and more fun than we'd anticipated. It was actually great fun and ended up being my favorite part of the tour. I felt like I learned much more about my orientation within the city and found a bunch of neat little shops. Very cool. So we met at a pub where we were too tired to drink and not hungry enough for food and just sat around and talked with some other Americans while the tour guide added up our scores. To our great surprise, Sara and I won! We eat got a ticket to the London Eye, which is an enormous ferris wheel that gives a spectacular view of the city (fifteen miles in each direction!), so that was pretty cool. When we got back home, we went out with some of our flatmates to the Hobgoblin (Hobgob, The Hob, Hobby-gobby), which is the pub that's just around the corner from Loring Hall. It was great fun! We went out the next night as well with an enormous group of bubbly American girls (you can imagine how I felt about most of them...) and our flatmates as well. Apparently we're lucky to have such a great mix of people in our flat. Aside from Sara and I, we've got a music-making Welch guy called James, two very outgoing English guys called Liam and DJ, a tall and super sweet Swedish girl called Ellen, and two loud and fun English girls called Chloe (who is obsessed with Joy Division) and Faith (who is a cheerleader). Everyone is a lot of fun and super nice. We go out as a group very often and spend quality time together in the communal kitchen. It's fantastic!
So, I think this post is probably long enough, as it should be since I've been working on it for days. Enjoy!

Orientation, etc.

Right, so I left off when I reached the Thistle Kensington Gardens hotel. I shared a room with a girl called Meghan Grant from Illinois. She's going to Goldsmiths as well, but I haven't seen much of her since we moved in even though she lives just a floor below me (sorry for the spoiler, I'm in my flat now!) When she arrived she was as tired as I so we both took naps for a few hours before the first of many orientation meetings. We didn't really do much that day as everyone was pretty jet lagged, but I did run into my friend Annie Bond from Austin, whose presence I was not expecting at all. But a pleasant surprise. So, nothing else really that first day.
The following day was a bit more exciting. We walked as a group (around 120 of us) through Kensington Gardens to Imperial College of London where our orientation was held in a lecture hall. After being given TONS of information, we were set free to find our own lunch. Annie and I (as well as a Chinese girl called Sky who spoke very poor English) picked out a cute little coffee/sandwich place (Greensfield Cafe, more to come in my food blog) and had a nice little lunch. Along the way we passed by the Science Museum. Though we didn't get the chance to go in, the outside architecture was AMAZING to look at. The first picture is a skating rink outside the museum.
When we got back, the thing we were dreading most was next on the agenda: a Politics and Current Affairs Panel Discussion. Arcadia brought in Diane Abbott, the Labour party's Member of Parliament for Hackney North and Stoke Newington as well as Lord Dick Taverne, a Social and Liberal Democratic party Member of the House of Lords. I don't entirely understand his title, but such seems to be the case for many--including Lord Taverne himself. So, tension seemed a bit high amongst the students at this point, but it ended up being a great deal of fun. "The Lord," as we all referred to him, was quite a hoot. He poked fun at the Conservative party Member who was scheduled to be there but for whatever reason wasn't, and he had a lot to say. Not to mention, he was what I imagine most Americans think of as the stereotypical dapper older English gentleman. I loved him! Mrs. Abbott was also very well-spoken and interesting, and she was wearing a shockingly low-cut blouse for a member of Parliament. I liked her as well.
Afterwards we split off into groups according to the schools we were going to. Our group spent an hour or so in the Victoria and Albert museum, which was very cool. We looked at the photography, fashion, and Islamic art exhibits which, though all super interesting, was a lot to take in at once, particularly taking exhaustion/jet lag into account. The second picture is one of the buildings of the museum. By the end, around 4:30, it was starting to get dark and I was about ready to go take a nap. Instead we went to an Italian restaurant as a group, which was rich and delicious, but too much food too early. I think my stomach has contracted from not eating much over the last few days, so it was impossible to finish my meal. Annie and I had no problem, however, finishing the bottle of wine we decided to split. Actually, that's not entirely true--I started to get pretty sleepy/tipsy at the end there. Before we knew it everyone in our group had left and we were among the last four Arcadia students there, expected to find our way back to the hotel. Again, this wasn't difficult and was actually good practice, except for the fact that the route we'd taken (through the park) was locked off. Instead, we had to go all the way around the park, which wasn't actually as bad as it sounds. And, when we were about 5 minutes from our destination, it started to snow. We knew how cold it was but weren't really expecting that. And it was so pretty! I was too sleepy to stay up and enjoy it though, and instead went to bed pretty early. When we awoke the next morning, the ground was covered in snow. The view from our room was absolutely gorgeous! I've got a few pictures of that. After a little bit more orientation, a coach arrived to pick up the Goldsmiths students, and we all watched in wonder as huge snowflakes fell all across London. This drive was very exciting for me. It took about 45 minutes and went through Central London, and it was so much to take in at once! Everything was overwhelmingly beautiful, and for the first time since being here, I was really truly excited about calling this city my home for the next few months. It just took a bit of visual stimulation, I guess, but it was well worth it.

AHH!

So I am totally in London now! Geez, where do I start?

Okay, my flight in went well. I sat next to a middle aged English couple but didn't speak to them much. I also didn't sleep a wink and instead wasted time watching Annie Hall, Bridget Jones' Diary, 30 Rock, Arrested Development, and How I Met Your Mother. It was a nine hour flight.
When I arrived at the airport I was loopy and exhausted. Customs were a breeze--I'd been prepared for a battery of questions and accusations but that was not at all the case. Obviously I'd done too much reading. I exchanged money (360 USD became 198 GBP, yikes!), got a trolley for my luggage (free!), and got my bag quickly. I attempted to buy a ticket for the Heathrow Express train, but I was too thirsty/tired/confused. Instead I went outside and got a taxi. I knew this wasn't going to be cheap, but I didn't realize just how crazy expensive it would be. I don't even want to mention the price...it makes me sick to think about. But, fortunately, the taxi took my right to the hostel, so that was pretty nice. Totally not worth it though!
So I arrived at the hostel around 9 AM and was barely functional from exhaustion. I tried checking in but was told at the front desk that I had to wait until 2PM--five more hours before I'd have access to a bed. Some guy (I'm still unclear as to whether he was a guest or an employee) helped me with the larger of my two suitcases to the third floor luggage "room", which was actually just a closet with an open window. Carrying my stuff up that many stairs drained all the energy I had, and I sat in the lounge area for the next five hours, in and out of consciousness, half listening to the conversations between one very loud and obnoxious Australian and everyone else in the place. He was sitting right next to me and kept me awake for a while (sort of a good thing) until I starting looking around the room: a mural of a fire-blowing he-she (or she-him) on one wall, luggage everywhere, uncomfortable DIY furniture lining the walls, and two bookshelves full of what looked to be the worst books of all time (I hadn't heard of any of them, but I feel like several titles were slight variations of actual popular books). This, along with an awful Canadian show called "Corner Gas", nearly put me to sleep. Finally 2 PM rolled around.
My room consisted of three bunk beds, a small sink, a picturesque window, and nothing else. All beds were occupied except the top bunk of the one nearest the window, so I lugged my overstuffed book bag onto it and climbed up for a nap. I hadn't yet gone through my luggage to find my alarm clock (which I still hardly understand how to use anyway) so I couldn't really choose how long I slept as I had originally planned. When I woke up it was dark and I had no idea what time it was. Still groggy, I fell back asleep and repeated this process several more times until I could no longer fall back asleep. I remembered Ben's ipod in my purse and spent about ten minutes trying to navigate the Swedish to figure out the time. It was nearly 5AM. I waited a while before getting up, and when I did all there was to do was shower and eat some nutella and toast. I'm not even sure of what else I did, but I was back in bed by 11AM. I'd planned on going out and exploring some, but when I woke up it was 6:30 and dark. By this time I was starving--I'd only eaten nutella and toast in 40 hours or so. I decided to try an Indian restaurant that was in one of my guide books. After walking for too long, I decided I was too exhausted (still) to find it, and turned around, heading for the Indian place I'd seen across the street from the hostel. So I went there; it was so-so. You can read more about that in my food blog (I'll post a link when I get it started up). Then I went back to the hostel, skyped for several hours with various people, and finally went to bed around 2AM. I got up early to check out and walked the half block to the hotel where the Arcadia orientation would be. Upon checking in, I was thrilled to find this place infinitely nicer that the last. I could rest easy for the next couple hours, sort of napping and being comforted by the greatest of 90's American sitcoms: Will & Grace and Friends.

**I've added pictures of my room at the hostel and the view from said room.