Paris

Ah, Paris. It could not have been a more incredible weekend. It began a bit rough, as traveling tends to go. Reyn, Gwen and I had a 5:25 a.m. train to catch, and we had to take a night bus to get to the train station because the tube doesn't run that early. I set my alarm that morning for 2:30 so I could shower. I was surprisingly chipper when I woke up to some of the guys below us talking loudly outside at 2:15. We all left the flat feeling good and ready for a weekend away. Halfway to the bus stop, and it's still dark at this point, Gwen realizes she forgot her camera. She knew she wouldn't enjoy herself without it, so she decides to sprint back to our flat to get it. She ends up making it back to the stop just in time for the bus and we make it to the station smoothly for our insanely early train. I slept most of it.

We arrive in Paris at around ten feeling like it's about 5:00 at night and stumble upon our hostel using the trusty old compass I managed to remember to pack last minute. This side of town is not the most picturesque, so our expectations for the hostel were not exceptionally high. We had to wait to find out, though, because check-in wasn't until 3. To kill time, we decide to dart off to the Louvre. The few hours we spent wandering around this massive "zoo of a museum," as Gwen so eloquently phrased it, barely made a dent. We got through two of the portions, including Italian paintings, which were absolutely marvelous to see in person. The Mona Lisa was neat, but I was far more impressed with many of the other pieces, most of which were significantly larger in size. It was funny how the Mona Lisa attracted such a crowd, though. I couldn't even get all the way up to it because of how many people were clustered around it, taking pictures of this tiny painting that has an entire wall all to itself, making it appear even tinier. Having taken a handful of art history classes over time, it was really remarkable to recognize so many of the paintings from textbooks and class Powerpoints. To see them in real life was an entirely moving experience. I could have spent all day there, but having had very little sleep and food, the three of us began to get a bit delirious. We left at one point in search of lunch and came across a little bakery where we ordered pieces of vegetable quiche from an adorable lady who only spoke French. Feeling more energized with the food intake, we made one more round through a different exhibit in the Louvre before heading back to the hostel.

The room on the seventh floor was laughably lousy. We jokingly referred to it as the "prison room" all weekend. I can't imagine prison being much different. We walk in and are greeted by one window, one sink and three metal beds with stiffly folded scratchy white sheets that we have to make the beds with. At that point, I would have curled up on the floor I was so tired. We made up our beds and passed out for a few hours before making our way to the grocery store to piece together a dinner.

A few weeks earlier, we all went out to celebrate Gwen's 21st birthday and ended up meeting a couple guys who lived and worked in London for Warner Music, but one of which had grown up in Paris. His dad still lives there, and after talking we figured out that we were going to be in Paris the same weekend and made tentative plans to meet up. David found me on Facebook and we confirmed plans to meet up on Saturday night. After our nap and dinner in a nearby park where we got kicked off the grass and had to eat on a bench instead, we made our way to the metro and met up with David at his flat. Posh isn't even close to the word to describe this place. He greets us near the station and walks us through the front door where we enter this huge airy lobby with intricately tiled floor and ascend a couple flights of carpeted stairs. His flat is on the second floor and it is amazing. Multiple bedrooms and bathrooms, a huge kitchen and living room, long hallways. Framed paintings and tables with decorative objects collected from around the world, classical music playing. David introduces us to his group of friends who are seated on three couches in the main living room, eating snacks and sipping wine, and gets us each a glass. Everyone was from a different part of Europe and spoke at least two languages. It was a blast to talk to such an eclectic group of people in such an incredible setting, it felt unreal. And I felt so old and sophisticated holding conversations with these people, who were all so warm and friendly and fascinating to watch as they switched between languages, trading stories and using wildly expressive hand gestures. Gwen and I spent a lot of the night out on the balcony talking. It overlooked the busy street below.

Sunday we got a good amount of sleep in and decided to shower before setting off. Gwen and I realized we didn't bring towels. And this hostel never seemed to have a supply of towels, so we were forced to use one of the sheets from our bed to dry off in the communal bathroom. We were laughing the entire time at how gross it was, but it still felt cleaner than not showering.

We packed a ton of sights into Sunday. We started at Montemartre, which is basically a large hill that you climb to get an incredible view of the city. There were lots of people and performers on the street with sterotypical accordions and marionettes. We picked up a sandwich at a streetside cafe and continued onward to Sainte-Chapelle cathedral. Words can't describe the beauty of the interior. Large walls completely covered in colorful stained glass depicting over a thousand biblical scenes. On our way to Notre Dame, we found an outdoor pet market on the way and stopped to pet bunnies and look at caged birds. Notre Dame was breathtaking as well, and we went inside as mass was being held, which was really cool to witness. Masses of people filled the pues and tourists shuffled in along the sides where tea candles were lit. While stopping for a latte in a cafe with outdoor seating, we received a call from David inviting us to a picnic by the Eiffel Tower later that night. We agreed, as that was our plan anyway, and found a supermarket nearby to pick up some snacks and fruit. I had to ask someone for directions to the closest metro, but he spoke English and directed us across the Seine River. It was a bit of a commute to the Tower, but we were able to arrive as the sun was setting. David met us underneath the Eiffel Tower itself, which is so much bigger than you would ever imagine. He led us to a grassy area with a perfect view of the Tower where his friends, some the same from the night before, had a blanket set up with food. We sat there as the sun went down, talking and eating. Gwen and I got crepes from a stand nearby and had a really hilarious encounter with the Italian crepe vendors. They were very friendly and laughed a lot at us and our inability to speak French. They dumped a mountain of whipped cream on Gwen's chocolate crepe, which caused it to turn into a soupy mess on the walk back and even more so once we sat back down with everyone. Her hands were drenched in gooey chocolate and cream and I was laughing so hard that my stomach started to hurt.

At around 11:30 we decided to head to the Eiffel Tower to see if we could go up to the top. We ended up catching the last elevator up at midnight for only six euro. They light it up with sparkly lights every hour once it gets dark out, and it went off once more while we were up on the second level. The view was absolutely gorgeous at night, the city lights twinkling all around us and the cool night wind hitting us as we leaned against the rail.

Almost missing the train this morning, thinking it was at 8:30 instead of 8:07, we arrived safely back in London. There was something sort of comforting about being in London again, like it was something I had missed without even realizing it. Walking down Hogarth and into our relatively clean flat and hearing English on the tube with the overly repeated "Mind the gap!" was surprisingly refreshing.

Got to listen to one of the online editors from the BBC talk today for class. The building itself was less impressive than the Guardian's beautiful glass walls and modern furniture and huge-screened Macs, but the editor who spoke with us was really informative and had a very positive outlook on new journalists and the field in general.

Stonehenge and Independence

Sunset on the train to Salisbury



It's been awhile since I've posted anything, so I'll try my best to remember the big things that happened.

Gwen had two friends come in from France two weekends ago. Well, one friend and then his buddy from the program. A bunch of us went to the Stonehenge Summer Solstice Festival that weekend- Owen and Brian, Gwen, Reyn, Sarah, Hannah and myself. It was the first time we'd all really hung out as a flat. Getting to the train station is a story all by itself. Hannah and Reyn had to take money out on our way to the tube so I figured I'd have enough time to run into a convenience store nearby and buy a few granola bars for the long night ahead. After making the purchase, I went to the station in search of everyone else and didn't see them anywhere. I saw that I had a few missed calls from Reyn and I got ahold of Gwen who told me that they had all gotten onto the tube because they couldn't find me. It was a rushed end to the conversation before her phone cut out, but I got some quick directions from her: take the District line to Westminster and change to the Jubilee for one stop to get to Waterloo. Seemed simple enough. It was 7:00 and our train was taking off at 7:20 from Waterloo. Plenty of time. Being alone, I was still more tense than necessary. I kept watching the minutes tick by on my phone. It takes roughly two minutes to get to the next stop on the tube. I got to Westminster and as the doors to the tube closed behind me an announcement sounded that the Jubilee was closed down. I dashed to the closest attendant I could find and asked him the quickest way to get to Waterloo. He gently told me that it's a ten minute tube ride if I get on the Northern line verses a seven minute walk. Thanking him, I ran up the steps out of the station, hustling past slow-moving people who seemed to be moving even more slowly than usual. I remember emerging from the dark, still heat of the station and a breeze hit my face. And before me was Big Ben, glowing gold in the dusk. I turned to cross the bridge over the Thames and the Eye was in full view to my left beside the purply-blue waves of the river. I was surrounded by such beautiful sights and I could only take them in in the smallest of doses as I sprinted onward, not even fully knowing where Waterloo Train Station was. 7:18. I'm damp and my back is hurting with the weight of my backpack. Finally, Waterloo Station is visible in the distance. As soon as I find my way inside, I get another call from Gwen saying that the train just left but Reyn waited behind for me. Her phone had died, so I wouldn't be able to call her. Great. In a determined daze, I slowed down my pace and tried to see where the proper platform was located for Salisbury. I hear my name, muffled, but I turn my head to see Reyn clambering up an escalator running towards me. Somehow we found each other, and both of us just started laughing, out of breath. We found the platform and explained that we had just missed our train to an attendant who kindly let us through to get on the next train which was leaving twenty minutes later.

It was all sort of dream-like. Sitting across from Reyn on the train, I was so energized and drained at the same time. It had to be a sign of a good night ahead. I looked out the window as the train began moving to see the sun sinking, gorgeous rays of reds and oranges and pinks filling the sky and bouncing off the buildings. We were on our way. Three people from Spain sat beside us at our table. The woman was fascinating to watch. Her hair was pulled back into a bundle of tiny braids and she had the most bizarre places on her face pierced, including that piece of gum that sits right above your two front teeth. Every time she smiled it glistened silver. After a game of cards, she pulled out a set of face paint from her bag and began painting a giant red and black star over one of the guy's left eye. In broken English she kept asking Reyn and I if it looked okay. We would respond with enthusiastic yes's. We were next in line but the ride wasn't long enough to get our faces made up.

We pulled into Salisbury and found the rest of our friends waiting on the other side of the tracks. We hopped on a bus for a half hour ride to Stonehenge. It was dark at this point and we were at the back of the top of the bus. There was a guy sitting a few seats in front of us playing the djembe. Brian and Owen were really easy to get along with. Owen had me share head phones with him to listen to a Feist/Postal Service remix. I remember laughing a lot. We were let off in this huge field. It was hard to see anything but I could feel the tall grass brushing up on my ankles. We seemed to walk awhile- long enough for the guys to run off to pee somewhere in the field. Finally we could see lights and hear cheers coming from a seemingly large crowd of people. After checking in at a gate lined with cops, we could see the rocks ahead of us, illuminated by hundreds of camera's flashes, creating a strobe effect. It got more crowded the closer we got to the rocks. We tentatively walked through the center of the rocks, which was much harder than one would think. It was packed. People were crazy already and it wasn't even 11. Drum circles, glow sticks, costumes and wigs, loud cheering and dancing. Gwen and I got separated for a few minutes from everyone and right then decided to pick out a spot to lay out our blanket and hang out away from the rocks. So that's what we did until the sun rose. We drank cheap wine out of plastic cups and talked and began huddling closer and closer together as the night grew colder. It got really, really cold. Sarah and the guys all managed to sleep a bit through the cold, but I didn't even want to try. I needed to keep moving. Reyn, Hannah and I made several trips to get hot tea and I had an amazing veggie burger. It was weird how crazy people were the entire night. It was like an actual festival without the live music. A couple guys manged to scale their way to the top of one of the rocks. 4:30 came and the sky started to show signs of light. We packed up our stuff and using the lucky compass given to me by Aunt Dianne, we situated ourselves to see the sun rise perfectly from behind the rocks. People were so impressed that I had a compass at my first summer solstice, it was really funny. Suddenly everyone was awake and on their feet, encircling the rocks, waiting for the sun. It never really came. The sky just kept changing into a more and more faded gray. Once 5:30 came and it was clearly light out we decided to head out, a bit disappointed by the unimpressive sunrise. There was something incredible about standing with so many people as the seasons changed, though. It was a long trek back to the bus with all the other festival-goers. Everything looked different in the light. Stonehenge was trashed. We took the bus back to Salisbury and went to a pub to get my first English breakfast. At that point we all were zombies and our meals and coffees took forever to come from a sluggish restaurant staff. I remember the guy in front of us in line to order asked if he could get a bloody Mary and the lady told him that they don't start serving alcohol until eight o'clock. In the morning. After eating a breakfast as impressive as the sunrise, we found a patch of grass and slept for an hour until our bus ride home. I don't even remember making the conscious decision to lay down and sleep, but we all did. And I slept uncomfortably the whole bus ride back, feeling more groggy than I can ever recall. When we got back to the flat at around noon, there was this huge street fair going on right outside on Hogarth. As much as I wanted to, I could not fall asleep with the loud music blaring out the window. I made some tea and sat out on the front steps of my flat and watched the festival. I talked to one of the street vendors who had this table of gorgeous African jewelry and scarves and figurines. We talked about the weather in the States and she told me she studied at a university in Illinois ten years ago. Ricky came out and joined me on the steps. He told me about how his flat got broken into while we all were at Stonehenge. Apparently one of the guys had been missing his iPhone for the past few weeks and his laptop got stolen this time, so they figured it was probably taken from the same guy. It was scary to think about something like that happening in the flat right beneath mine. I feel nothing but safe every time I come home to my flat, but it just makes you think about having to be careful no matter where you are.

Jolene visited for a few days. It was so great to see her. I took her to see Big Ben one day and we walked by the Globe and Tate Museum and crossed Tower & Millennium Bridges over the Thames. We took her out to Cargo, one of our favorite clubs on Wednesday night. It was sort of a strange time to have Jolene visit, though, because Reyn and I both had work and class during most of the day. Friday we had a bit of free time to hang out at Hyde Park, but then we had to pack and get ready for Barcelona.

So, last weekend was Barcelona. Our flight there got delayed three hours, so we ended up getting to our hostel really late Friday night. We still managed to get out of bed at a decent time and spent the day in the blinding sun walking around the city and eventually finding a very touristy beach. On the way, we walked through Las Ramblas, Barcelona's famous street with lots of vendors and open-air markets and art and street performers. That night we ended up going to this multi-level, multi-room club called Razzmatazz which was a lot of fun until we were leaving and I noticed that my wallet was missing from my purse. One of the guys Reyn and I met back at the hostel who had come out with us was so nice and paid for the cab home. But it sucked a lot on Sunday when I had to deal with not having any money. Reyn was great and spotted me for food and transportation. We tried to enjoy the day as much as we could and took a short train ride out to this incredible tourist-free beach. Barcelona wasn't what I imagined it to be, but I think I would have had a different frame of mind if my wallet hadn't been stolen.

It's been more or less a quiet week after Barcelona. I did a lot of catching up on sleep. It was Gwen's 21st birthday on Wednesday, so we went out to celebrate. Found a great little club in the basement of this building in Notting Hill that had live music. I talked to a guy for awhile who lives in London but has family in Paris and he's going there the same weekend we are, so he wants to meet up and show us the sights. Yesterday Reyn and I spent the afternoon at South Bank. It was beautiful out and perfect for walking around enjoying the London riverfront. I enjoyed a delicious falafel and we then headed towards Covent Garden. We passed by Trafalgar Square and there was a huge swarm of people outside of the National Gallery. It was some kind of a massive gay pride celebration, so the square was packed with people and a band was playing and beer was being served. We got back and found a bunch of people from our flat barbecuing outside on the back patio. We joined the festivities in celebration of Independence Day. It was strange being in England for such an American holiday, but everyone from the flat was really into celebrating. One of the girl's moms even sent her 4th of July decorations and flags and one of those Old Navy 2009 flag shirts. I sort of got mocked for wearing earth tones instead of any patriotic colors, but the 4th here didn't mean anything to me even though a lot of Europeans seemed to think it was a big deal. At work on Thursday, there was even this Independence Day-themed lunch, which was just bizarre. They decorated the entire cafeteria with red, white and blue streamers and flags and served four different types of burgers and cole slaw and corn on the cob. We all walked in to eat and were just like, "Wow, what's going on!" I stayed in with Reyn that night and we watched Independence Day. Today I went to markets around Brick Lane with Reyn and Hannah including Petticoat Lane Market and Sunday Upmarket, which had this selection of every type of food possible. I had an amazing Spanish omelette and a corn and pepper salad. There was so much to look at, I couldn't possibly have decided on anything to buy. Then we went to the theatre that Hannah interns at to see a play called "Naked Boys Singing!" She was able to get two free tickets and one for ten pounds, so we each paid three pounds which was great. The play was literally just as it sounds... naked... boys... singing. We all agreed that it wasn't nearly as awkward as we thought it would be to see a bunch of naked men dancing around on stage.

I've started to come to terms with the fact that I don't have much time here left. We leave five weeks from today. Hannah and I were talking over lunch today about how cool it was that we were in London eating in a market like this. It's weird, because I've gotten so used to being here. I feel so comfortable and I often forget that I'm in London. Days pass by and it feels like it's just become my home.

Photos and first MSN gallery

I just uploaded some pictures, but I have many more that can be found here

It took awhile to load pictures on this site, so I will continue to put the majority of them on Facebook.

And a link to my first officially published 'story' on MSN for Life & Style--Summer dresses

first Entertainment story--
How Artists Got Their Name

Motley Crue, Jack the Ripper and Brighton

Brighton Pier and the rocky beach
olives at Borough Market



Let's see. Last week happened, and for the most part, it was fairly uneventful. Well, that's not really true, I guess. This is why I should be writing on this more often, because everything sort of starts running together.

Class happened, work happened. MSN was especially cool on Thursday when I was working for Entertainment. My main assignment was to come up with interesting band names to find out the back stories behind their origin. My list of twenty or so, including bands like Talking Heads, Mates of State and Arcade Fire got slowly dwindled down by my music editor, James. But I was forewarned that he would have to check it out before I took off on any research. Not only did he want to add in some British bands that I'd never heard of (fair enough), but he humorously (wow, I just spelled humorously, 'humourously.' I think I've officially been consumed by England) and rather bitterly told me that as far as the MSN music audience goes, "if you're into music and you're looking at the MSN music section, you're not very cool." So he replaced the earlier mentioned "too-cool bands," apparently, with bands like Destiny's Child (really?!), The Killers and Jay-Z (not a band, but he actually ended up having a pretty cool back story- the intersection of the J and Z subway lines in his childhood Brooklyn neighborhood). During our brainstorming session, it dawned on me how few female groups/solo artists there are out right now who are fairly mainstream. The only one James and I could come up with was Lady Gaga, who, as catchy as her songs are, is not exactly the kind of music I would like being represented by female musicians. James made some underhanded comment as we were agreeing upon the fact that the list needed more women that "that should very well be the overarching theme of my own life." James is a funny lad. He's quite an awkward interviewer, though. Which brings me to my next set of ramblings. I didn't get very far in my band names research/writing, because I was handed the glorious gift by a friend of mine, Carla, who is interning for the video side of MSN, of getting to crash two interviews. In other words, I got to leave the office on two separate occasions, get picked up and driven, or rather, swerved madly down the narrow streets of London, to essentially sit in on interviews done by the editors. Well, I monitored the big camera that sat stationary the entire time it was filming, just to make sure it didn't do anything out of hand, like shut off. The first interview was with two members from the heavy metal band, Mastodon, done by MSN's movie editor, Ed, who was a huge fan. Ed is this skinny guy who you can just tell was a gawky adolescent, but he's really nice in sort of a nervous way. Not exactly the sort of guy you'd picture to like a band like Mastodon. The two Mastodon fellows, one a drummer and the other lead guitarist (both of whom sing as well) stroll into the room of this studio we were sitting in close to forty minutes late. Heavily tattooed and pierced and lethargic, they sit beside each other on the couch and Ed starts firing away a series of overly nerdy questions about the meanings of their songs. It lasted about twenty minutes and the three of them ended up singing a guitar riff together towards the end, which was the greatest thing ever, followed shortly by Ed meekly asking if he could get their autograph. I got to shake their hands and they asked Carla and I what we had going on the rest of the day, but it was as they were walking out the door, so I don't think they really cared how we chose to answer. Carla managed to get out that we were heading to another interview with Vince Neil from Motley Crue. They perked up at that and told us to pass on that Mastodon says hello. So, yes, the second interview I got to witness was with Vince from Motley Crue, and this interview was done by James. It was at a swanky hotel that had huge lime green tinted windows and life-sized wooden chess pieces arranged artistically in the foyer, and I think they were intended to be used as chairs. We were taken to a room in the back of the hotel and I got reminded of that scene in Almost Famous where Patrick Fugit is being led dizzily through a hotel passing by all these half-open doors with intriguing characters behind them. The room we were taken to had a wall lined completely with windows so it was very bright and all white. There was a clear table and chairs in the center and one lone booth off to the side, and for some reason, James decided it would be a good idea to set up the camera facing the booth (the darkest part of the room). Carla and I sort of shrugged and did as told. We set up really fast and Vince pranced in soon after, looking like the most stereotypical washed up rockstar possible: long scraggly hair, sunglasses, a ripped shirt missing sleeves, faded jeans with holes in the knees and a massive diamond studded watch. James's interview with Vince lasted all of about five minutes before he awkwardly wrapped it up. Vince didn't have a great sense of humor, and he didn't ever answer a question directly, so it was kind of a mess of an interview, but I mean, he was from Motley Crue. And I shook his hand. Twice. So, it was a really awesome day for me.

My roommate, Sarah, had a friend of hers stay with us in our flat for close to a week. Abbe (said friend) was just stopping through London in the midst of her solo travels across Europe. She was really quiet the first few days and mostly kept to herself, sleeping a lot. One night we were all sitting around together in the main room and she suddenly got up and announced that she was going to dance. We all kind of didn't say anything but I was like hmm? Did you say dance? And she laughed and told us that it was this thing she started upon traveling; that for the past twenty-two days she had filmed herself dancing to a song and then put it up on YouTube, sort of as a documentary of the places she'd been. At this point I'm totally sucked in and have to see some of the videos. She shows us, and I'm blown away. It was like one of those things that only happens in movies. You just don't meet people like this in real life. She was an amazing dancer and she had no hesitation upon showing us either. It was like she decided to crack herself open entirely and reveal this hidden talent to all of us, and we're all basically strangers to her at this point. She went back into one of the bedrooms and closed the door and did her twenty-third dance. The next night she rose from the couch and said that she had to go dance, and we knew the drill. But this time she went outside and placed her laptop on the sidewalk. I could hear Spanish-sounding music playing faintly through the wall dividing us. I went up to the window to watch as she danced on the stairs in front of our flat. People walking by literally slowed down to watch as she improvised to this instrumental music and she didn't stop until the end of the song. I think Abbe may be the most fearless person I have ever met. After that she started going out with us and talking a lot more. And just the other day she disappeared without any warning. I think she might be in Germany, I forget where she said her next destination was. I don't know if I'll ever see her again.

Thursday night I went and did a very touristy thing with my roommates and Carla from MSN and a couple friends of hers. We all went on a Jack the Ripper tour, which was led by an older man who had written two books on 'ol Jack, so he knew a whole lot about the subject. It took place in the part of town where the four alleged murders took place, which was cool and eery. Our guide was a good storyteller and made sure that the large group of us heard every word he was saying by repeating himself every time a car passed by or a church bell rang. The 2.5 hour tour ended at a pub formerly known as the Jack the Ripper Pub.

Friday I went to Borough Market with Gwen, which is this gigantic food market full of different stands of freshly risen bread and huge blocks of cheese and olives and meat and fruit and vegetables. We took advantage of the free samples, going back for cinnamon dusted white chocolate covered hazelnuts three times, and bought some miscellaneous items to serve as a lunch. This trip to the market was after our British Life & Culture class where we had a guest lecturer who specialized in fashion and showed us slides of the changes in clothing and style over time.

The weather started getting nice again, so Reyn, Gwen and I decided to take a day trip to Brighton on Saturday. Brighton is a seaside town an hour outside of London. We took the train, buying round trip tickets that morning. It was a great day. We walked out of the station and immediately heard seagulls, which was a sound that I never realized how much I liked. We bought coffee from the first cafe we came across, and it was real coffee, which was great since London only does the whole steamed espresso thing and walked through the bustling town on the hilly streets towards the dropoff ahead of us that we sensed was the ocean. The town itself reminded me a lot of San Francisco with all the hills and small shops and busy traffic/crowds of people. The beach was covered with rocks instead of sand which were kind of hard on the feet. The water was freezing. But it was a sunny 70-degree day and we enjoyed hanging out on the beach. We walked along Brighton Pier, which was essentially a carnival with token-paid rides and food vendors selling all your typical carnival food: doughnuts, ice cream and jellied eels, yumyum.

After the train ride back, we met up with Ricky and hung out on the back patio of our flat as it lightly rained. Gwen and I drank some ales that we bought as we were leaving Brighton, which we were given a mixture of a hard time and advice for purchasing by one of the locals. Gwen got one called Fersty Ferret, which we couldn't stop laughing at. At one point one of the flats above us noticed that we were hanging out outside and started talking to us out the window, which was soon followed by the next highest flat's tenants leaning out the window and so on. A bunch of girls made their way down and talked to us out on the patio and we almost decided to join them on their mission for the night, some kind of a 30s-esque club, but I was set on trying out a club that I had read about online called Dogstar. Ricky, Reyn, Gwen and I eventually made our way out and had a very confusing combined tube/bus ride there. Dogstar we learned was the oldest pub in south London, and it definitely appeared that way on the outside when we finally found it on a very empty Coldharbour Road. I read online that there would be live music, but this was not the case. It was yet another bad DJ playing loud, bad rap mixed with techno, but it was a really cool building with three levels that we had a lot of fun exploring. And the music was eventually fun to dance to. The second level had a room sparsely filled with people where an old black and white movie was playing on the wall and clotheslines were suspended from the ceiling with drawings hanging from them. Gwen and I drew our own pictures to add to the collection with markers and paper that were laid out on a table in the center of the room. Overall, the four of us came to the conclusion that we enjoyed ourselves at Dogstar but not enough to return. We managed to stay until it closed at four in the morning and made the long journey back home to Earl's Court. This made it the second Saturday in a row that I was awake long enough to see the sun rise.

Pirate party, etc.

Abbe, me, Gwen, Ricky and Hannah on the tube
Gwen and I on the Thames River pirate boat party


Waiting for tea to seep in the kitchen, I realized that this is the longest stretch I've gone so far without posting. And the irony of this is that I've had the most fun, the most happen and been the busiest of all this past week. Prime writing material. But I guess being busy doesn't help that out.

It's strangely quiet outside and I know why. There's a tube strike taking place for the next 48 hours, so the train that is directly outside my bedroom window is not rumbling past. That is the only nice thing about the strike. It is very inconvenient for everyone who has to commute to work, which for me and all the other interns, is quite a problem. We're forced to figure out the bus system once and for all tomorrow and Thursday.

So, I'm trying to think where I left off. Wednesday was the last blog. Well, Wednesday's class got cut thirty minutes short so that we could all travel in a big mass over to this pub called O'neills. It was great to hang out with people in the group, as well as our professor, outside of a classroom setting.

Not so fun getting up for work the following morning. It was a fun day, though, because I got to move over to the Entertainment section of MSN. I will be working for Entertainment every Thursday from now on, which I'm thrilled about. It's made up of mostly guys and this girl, Colleen, and they spend the day cracking jokes, most of which I don't understand. My assignment for the day was to read through message board posts on the Susan Boyle meltdown and compile the most interesting ones into a new story for the website. So, not a whole lot of original writing, but it was still enjoyable. And I got my first official byline on the site, which was terribly too exciting. But it was Thursday evening that was the most memorable part. All the interns got sent an email from one of our coworkers, Antony. Subject: Evening worship. And the body of the email consisted of a picture of a cathedral of some kind with pints of amber ale etched into the stained glass. A bunch of us ended up going, about half I'd say. The Entertainment crew basically wouldn't let us say no. We walked around the corner of the office building to a pub called Phoenix where at 6 p.m. it was already packed with businessmen and women in work attire hanging outside on the sidewalk/street, drinks in hand. I was one of three interns who were the last to leave with two MSN employees at 11. I don't really know how five hours went by, but I had an absolute blast. It was a gorgeous night and the sun stays out here until well past 9, so we stood outside socializing for quite a long time in a big work huddle. Everyone was so nice about buying all the interns drinks, and I had more than a fair share of white wine. I talked to Antony about this upcoming music festival that takes place every year, which a bunch of the MSN people are attending. Apparently it takes place on a hill and it has rained so much in the past that all the tents that are set up at the bottom of the hill get washed away, so you have to go at least a day before the fest starts to search out a good spot at a higher elevation. He was like, "It's a blast but you're a bloody muddy mess by the end of it." I know that feeling all too well. Basically, my conversations with everyone centered around music. I talked about Radiohead with one of the guys who works the homepage for quite some time, and James, the music editor, told me to stick by him this summer and he'd give me suggestions of where to go catch good live music.

Friday the cold, rainy weather hit again. And it hasn't left since. I had class at ten that morning, and thinking it wasn't until one, was frantically woken by my dear 'ol roomie, Reyn at 9:40. (sorry Mum & Pops, I know you don't want to hear these things!) We learned about theatre for three hours and had a really incredible guest speaker named Sarah who was filled with information about the history of theatre. She could "only choose eleven" playwrights who were pioneers to the world of theatre. It was funny when she asked us at the end if we'd gone to any shows. Chicago and Phantom of the Opera were, of course, the ones a group of Americans had seen. It was obvious that she was a bit peeved after talking our ears off about all these obscure and fabulous works that are being shown now. It made me feel guilty for not getting out and seeing any shows yet, but she told us about all these tiny theatres like The Gate in Notting Hill that I hope to make my way to soon. I spent the remainder of the afternoon at Troubadour, my favorite little coffee shop/pub, sharing a pot of chamomile lemon tea with Gwen at a table by the window and trying to stay warm from the dismal weather. She left at one point because her internet went out, but I stayed awhile longer and a waiter brought over a candle and set it at my table, lighting it. It was really nice and a bit peculiar because he didn't do that to any of the other customers or empty tables.

So, I forgot to add this in earlier. On Thursday night when I got home from the pub outing with the MSN crew, I got an email from Chris, a guy I had contacted a few days prior about getting into a sold out boat party on the Thames River for the upcoming Saturday. I thought for sure I didn't have a chance in hell, especially since I was kindly asking for three spare tickets to an event that clearly said SOLD OUT on the website. The email said that three tickets had just become available and to call him immediately, so I did, and managed to score myself, Reyn and Gwen spots on the Exit to the Thames Boat Party, which was in fact pirate themed and ALL DAY LONG on Saturday. I was literally jumping for joy after I got off the phone with the organizer. Saturday morning we all were up getting ready by 9 in the morning so that we could be at the dock no later than 11:45. Chris made this very clear on the phone as well, that we couldn't be late. We took the tube to Temple Pier and arrived early. Let me illustrate the scene: first of all, we could not have picked a colder, more gray day to go on a boat ride all day long. The three of us were standing by the pier shivering. There were a few groups of people scattered about, and we knew we were at the right place because a few of them were dressed up. Within moments, pirates began walking in our direction and we were even more assured yet that much more hesitant about going because we hadn't had the time (or mostly) the motivation to go out and buy some elaborate one-time-use pirate costume. We were all kind of laughing nervously at the entire situation as the wind whipped through the light coats we foolishly wore. Then Chris appeared in the full pirate get-up, with a clipboard and pouch of tickets. Fifteen pounds each and a quick search of our purses, we were aboard the two-story ship and there was no turning back. It was not even noon and there was already a DJ on the top deck pounding out house music. People were already cracking open Coronas and ciders and even, insanely enough, a couple vodka cocktails. It was going to be a good day. And it was! Once we got past the fact that it was a bit cold and the fact that we knew no one there and everyone else seemed to be regular boat party buddies, it was a blast. Gwen and I threw on some bandanas to get in the spirit. We danced, drank some beer, laughed a lot at the crazy people dancing and drinking more than us and had a grand old time until the boat docked at around 5. Oh, but the party was not over yet. Not nearly. The after party at a nearby pub, which was not actually that nearby, was still to come. Everyone wobbled off the boat, costumes still in tact but looking a bit rough, and trekked over to Lounge 34, a pub which did not serve any food. See, at this point, I was sort of dumbfounded by this whole not eating thing that people in England do. The boat did not serve food, which, okay, that's reasonable I guess. We packed a few granola bars and apples just in case that happened. But you'd think this drunken slew of people would want to stuff their faces after five hours of partying. Nope. The pub had no menu whatsoever. Reyn was fine with this, but Gwen and I were foaming at the mouth. Need food. So we left Reyn at the pub and got directed towards the nearest, quickest food at a tube station. We got London's version of fast food to go: pasties. Warm croissants stuffed with vegetables and meat of choice. They were delicious. I think we would have been content with anything at that point. After an hour at Lounge 34, we had had enough of the pirate scene. We headed back to the flat.

But our night did not end there. We arrived home and took a few hours to relax and figure out what to do with our buzzes. I went downstairs to the basement flat to hang out with Ricky while people showered and got ready. We all eventually decided upon a club called Cargo that we had read about a couple weeks ago. It was free to get in before 10 p.m. and had live music. Sounded great.

We have this problem, and I've always found this to be the case, even in Columbia, MO, where you start hanging out and no matter how much time you give yourselves, you NEVER leave at the time you set. All we wanted was to leave by 9:30ish to arrive at Cargo before ten. We didn't leave the flat until 10:15. So, it was another rushed exit and we took the tube to Old Street (which we had been to before and failed to find our destination, so we were all hoping this time around would be a success). We got off after annoying many people around us with the flashing of cameras on the tube, and started a mad dash to find Cargo. The area was looking just as unpromising as the last time we'd been. Deserted, no life anywhere. We made a turn at one point and it was like a switch went off. Bright lights, loud voices, I swear there was even music coming from some unknown source. It was hopping and we got excited. Faster running. It was kind of a far walk, but we found Cargo by 10:30. And every one of us - there were six of us - got in for free. And the place was packed. And the band was so great and the dance floor was huge and everyone in the place was dancing. It was the best thing in the world not to hear another shit cover band, because I swear, that's somehow all I've been seeing in London. We danced through the band and continued on when this DJ with a box on his head entered the stage. This place even had an outdoor patio out back with a foosball table (Ricky killed me) and picnic tables. It was by far the greatest London find yet. And this is still the same day as pirate party, so this was perhaps the greatest London experience yet as well. So, it ended up just being me, Gwen and Ricky as Cargo was closing (everyone else had left). And somehow we started talking to two British guys who invited us back to their flat to hang out. We decided to go. We stayed up really late talking to them at their place and I watched this insanely awful but hilarious movie called "Shark in Venice" with Ricky and one of the guys who lived there. We spent the whole time pointing at the screen and laughing hysterically at the horrible effects, plot and Stephen Baldwin's acting. I fell asleep before the end, which was close to six in the morning. About halfway through the movie it started storming really bad outside, and apparently, this is really rare in London. We all got up and watched the rain come down in sheets out the window. It was light out.

It's experiences like that that will only happen now while I'm here. And I don't even think I can accurately describe how amazing certain things are that have happened, just because they're these strange little moments that are sort of indescribable in their simplistic greatness. I'm already sensing how fast this summer is going to go by.

A trip to Paris is booked for July, as well as a trip to Barcelona at the end of June. And I get to see Jolene in two weeks which I am so excited about. She's going to stay with us a few nights before we head off to Spain. And we're spending the summer solstice at Stonehenge for this nightlong festival. There's so much coming up to look forward to, and so much that I still want to do simply in London.

tea

Work has been going well. Yesterday I put together a gallery called "10 tips to protect yourself from the sun this summer." This involved a bit of research, a lot of obvious knowledge, searching through stock photography, a few hours spent trying to fix the never-ending Windows Vista glitches with my adorably calm and collected supervisor, Monica, and a whole lot of tea, from previously mentioned Monica. This girl is the sweetest, most friendly, and I hate to reuse the word adorable again, but I really don't think I've met a person who better fits the definition. She's got this cute little bob haircut that bounces around when she moves and she's always wearing little colorful summer dresses with cardigans and matching shoes. And she's constantly laughing and chatting away at a very fast pace. She helped me with my computer for most of the morning and never once lost her temper. In fact, she somehow managed to not only keep her cool but do it with a smile on her face up until the very end when we got it figured out. Anyways, though, back to the tea. I don't know if it's this polite thing that people do here or what, but literally everyone who sits around me, whenever they get up to grab a drink (which might I add, we get complimentary hot coffees and teas as well as a massive fridge stocked full of juice and pop) they ask me if I'd like something. And they do it so eagerly that I feel like I would be completely crushing their spirits and ruining their days if I said no. So, I usually say yes. Monica gets up for drinks every hour it seems, and insists upon getting me a tea--"milk and sugar?" "yes please!" All that liquid seems to cycle through my body very quickly, which only means one thing, but I've gotten good at keeping busy and holding it in awhile. Monica was laughing at the fact that British people hold true to the stereotype that they drink tea all the time. When I got home from work last night I had this intense craving for some, so I went to Sainsbury and got a box of breakfast tea as well as a mug that I can use at work. I hope this keeps me away from buying coffee all the time.

It's nice to have today off. I have class at 4, but otherwise the day is mine. I think I might try to find a museum to wander around in for awhile.

Oxford Town

the temple at Battersea Park
Gwen, Kirsten, Sarah and Ricky at Battersea Park
Hogarth Street, the location of my flat
Gwen, Hannah, Reyn and I in Oxford at the regatta


So our shower is leaking water from some unseen place underneath the base. Water keeps mysteriously trickling out of the mat and accumulating into puddles. Quickly dissolving footprints are being made every time someone enters. We hung out with some girls from the fifth floor Saturday night, which up until then I had never climbed beyond the first flight of stairs. As you ascend, it gets exceedingly narrower and the stairways get more and more crooked for some reason. But according to the chorus of "This is so unfair!" and similar phrases from the top-floor girls upon stepping into our flat, I think that the leaking shower is a minor issue from the rather cumbersome list of problems they've faced. Not to mention the guys in the basement flat and their week-and-a-half long supposed septic tank leak that left their apartment wafting with unimaginably foul odors. Ricky described it as "a slap in the face" every time he entered. I think we got a pretty sweet deal.

Oxford on Saturday was all I expected aside from the hidden regatta we stumbled upon on accident. Many participants were wearing horned hats and a riverside party stretched on where all the surveyors gathered and lots of "Pimms," a mystery beverage (beer of some kind?) was served. Gwen, Reyn, Hannah and I all took a seat in the grass by the river to eat paninis and watch the long boats pass by. Oxford I learned is not a single university but it is actually made up of many small colleges all clustered together, one after another. It was otherwise pretty with old architecture and a long strip of shops and street performers. I can't imagine what it would be like to go to school there.

My favorite part of this week was Battersea Park. Three tube stops away, and what a gorgeous find. You get to cross this long bridge over the Thames and the entire park runs alongside the river. We went at around seven at night so we got to see the park during its last few hours of daylight. The sun seemed to illuminate everything so beautifully. We were lured to the park by a description I read of live music and a barbecue. It took awhile to find these things, but on our hunt, we found a temple that sort of emerged out of nowhere. It was huge and I don't really know its significance, but we couldn't move on from it without staring and circling around it a few times. It was mesmerizing. It was there that we could hear faint sounds of music in the distance and we followed it to the restaurant we had been looking for. Although the sound machine and "Macarena" failed to meet my prior expectations, it was a whole lot of fun to laugh at. And the scenery and weather were just so brilliant that evening that we couldn't have had a bad time even with the terrible music. Five of us shared a bottle of red wine by the duck pond and took a lot of pictures twirling by the river as the sun went down.

I ate at O'neills with Hannah and Gwen Saturday night when we got back from a sleepy busride from Oxford. All three of us got fish 'n chips, so now I can say I officially have had London pub fish 'n chips and I officially can claim that I loved every bite. We later that night ended up at a different O'neills at Piccadilly Circus that was quite a lot cooler than the previous one, complete with three floors of bars and dance floors and outdoor patios. It was a fun club experience. We all danced late into the night to a bad cover band who played a lot of Killers and a painful rendition of "Sweet Home Alabama." I was mostly amused by two of the girls from the fifth floor flat who were up in the front row dancing like mad, clearly on the prowl for the lead singer (God knows why). A British guy standing next to me started laughing at me at one point and said something like, "You don't like the music, do you?" I guess I wasn't too great at hiding it. As always, it was a challenge figuring out which bus to take home at the end of the night.

A trip to Paris in July is booked, complete with a hostel. I can't wait. But until then, I plan to keep finding my way around London.