My first week of seminars was (relatively) painless. Both classes I'm taking, Dr. Southcombe's English historiography of the Elizabethan period and Dr. Eberle's 19th century women's writing, meet for two hours apiece, but I have been pleasantly surprised to find that both feel like they are too brief. Dr. Eberle does a wonderful job of guiding the class when we seem to need a bit more direction in the texts, but we really haven't seen too much of Dr. Southcombe; he summarizes our arguments or corrects our logic if we didn't express ourselves best, and then he leaves us to discuss what we found interesting in considering the two questions he always poses at the start of class. Even though there are no more than 10 people in any of the UGA seminars, everyone is so smart and driven to get their thoughts heard, and I'm going to keep trying harder to get a word in edgewise/conquer my tendency to not say the occasional intelligent thought that enters my head... ;)
We read all the time. When we're not reading (eating, sleeping, walking to class), we're probably thinking about reading. I have 6 texts to know the finer points of by the end of the long weekend, and I'm trying not to let that faze me. It's really pretty enjoyable, and not at all difficult, to go to the library, request a few books, and read/take notes for several hours. I have two papers to write by next weekend and am pretty cheerfully going with the idea that eventually, before the week is out, they will be done.
It's only been a week, so I really shouldn't be as antsy, but I'm ready to take advantage of a bit more freedom/geography around Oxford. In efforts to effect this goal, I rented a bike for the term and have had an amusing time remembering how to ride one. It is totally not "just like riding a bike"! Julianna and several amiable locals watched as I wobbled around the residential streets (and a neat hidden garden!), skimming past parked cars and getting on/off the bike at stop signs with extreme caution and a lot of frantic leg movements. I probably still looked petrified as I said, "Pshaw, why not ride down Banbury Road?", but after one truck honking at me I sucked it up and made a pretty straight beeline to the Lamb and Flag, where I knew I could safely turn around and go home. I then got my books and rode back to Keble to get some work done and have enjoyed my bike ever since. It gets me everywhere so fast, and I will make use of the unexpected extra time by... reading? :P
A few of us around the house had been making grand plans to go to London over the weekend, but an overnight became a daytrip became a "maybe next week?" and I'm just as content to stay at home. After Keble's illustrious "Mexican night" (or should I say "canned chili on top of white rice with cubed vegetables night"? you may cringe, but "I just want to eat a goddamn avocado" girl was starving and thus thought it tasted awesome), we stopped by the Keble pub for a drink and then merrily biked/enviously watched the two smartest people in the house bike home to watch what became three movies on the glorious HDTV. Julianna and I actually sat through the so-bad-it's-good mess that was "The Abduction Club" (OK, so in the 18th century second sons couldn't inherit anything so they'd occasionally abduct wealthy heiresses to marry well and avoid entering the church--compelling, but not in this movie). The guys eventually got back from their walk home and, catching the end of the movie, demanded that they pick the next one, so we watched "Happy Gilmore." I don't think that one is any better, even for the wrangle with Bob Barker. But the night was still young, and Sara had found "Love Actually" in our amazingly rich VHS collection, so we made it a triple feature and I woke up humming "All You Need is Love."
I spent most of today reading on various sofas (or, as Jane Austen would say, "sophas"), but Mark, Kao and I walked to M & S for lunch supplies and I had the best microwave Indian chicken ever. I think a sizeable group of us will be going out for a pub dinner to make the weekend a bit more exciting, and another movie or not (come on, "Run Fatboy Run"! Please?!) I'm very content. I definitely can see myself living here for another 11 weeks, and even though there's no other option I'm glad.
Saturday, September 15, 2007
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Playing catch-up...
Here goes my newer attempt to describe my fun day of studying (?!). I wrote this on a break in the Radcliffe Camera, so if I rhapsodize over it a bit it probably came from just looking around myself. Enjoy! --Lauren 10:50 p.m. Oxford time
On Monday a handful of the girls got up early to test the capricious system that is dining at Keble. Gabriel had contacted the office about meal times over the weekend and heard that breakfast would be served from 9:00-9:15, "seriously." We bolted out of the house at 8:40, and the long walk left us only a few seconds to gasp at the meticulously trimmed front quad (they're just begging for you to walk on them! I have never walked by more dangerous lawns in my life!) before running up the stairs into the lofty dining hall.
Oxford has instilled in us a sense of hierarchy very quickly, so even though we were allowed to sit "just this once" at the high table situated horizontally at the top of the room we picked to admire the general splendor/wolf down our toast from one of the three long tables. The hall is a four or five story arch of mottled brown, white, and red bricks, with seemingly Indian scalloped flowers and ribs along the ceiling (you might be able to tell from the pictures that the samemotif was used in the Taj Mahal--a neat/eerie relic of the colonialism thriving at the time of Keble's founding). Along the walls there are portraits of the college's most celebrated dons in a variety of poses (a lot of options to consider for how we we each should be commemorated once we are famous intellectuals... I think I might test the red carpet, over the shoulder look, yet unpainted). Breakfast in the end didn't seem too fast, as we all had time for gaping/our cards not working/popping coffee pods into the oddly hip instant beverage maker.
After quitting the dining hall we figured we could trespass in the unopened college a little longer and followed Gabriel past the chapel (which has a pre-Raphaelite painting we supposedly must see), the college bar (where Keble subsidies makes the drinks cheaper! President Adams would probably cry!), and the mini-gym that I might join if I feel like the 3+ miles of walking per day isn't enough. We also ventured into the covered market in town, where Gabriel showed us the best places for cheap food (Fasta Pasta and some pie company) before Julianna and Sarah and I split off to get Julianna a "rucksack" (a.k.a. backpack) at Argos, some weird communist store where you look through a catalogue in the small front room and the cashier goes to get your purchase from the back.
One of my favorite parts of Oxford thus far revealed itself to us when we breezed past the "visitors not allowed" sign to enter the Radcliffe Camera. A friendly old man checked our Bodleian cards and bogs and explained the reading rooms to us, and we went as quietly as we could among gasps of "Bitchin'!" into the lower reading room. The circular "basement" reading rom is made up of eight stone domes of shelves, long desks with personal lamps, and wrought-iron gated windows encircling a central reference desk, which makes the room feel at once huge and secluded, cavelike, and warm. We ventured into the brighter upper camera, with its two stories of shelves, svelte iron spiral staircases, and white columns, but I could tell that I felt more at home in the basement. Even a look at the Bodleian--its square staircases around old dumbwaiters, its "cloakrooms" (or bathrooms), its closer-set desks bathed in orange lamplight, and its musty shelves of original manuscripts and first editions in the mahogany Duke Humphrey's library (a.k.a Hogwarts library)--could not keep me from going back and reading "A Room of One's Own" in the lower camera. It feels too surreal and pretentious, but somehow the atmosphere encourages me to think better, and to feel that everyone wants me to think better; studying oddly enough has become my most anticipated activity every day if I can sit and think there.
The rest of Monday, post library crawl, is a bit foggy. I know we ate lunch with some of the Keble students who run the college activities over the holidays. They are all very friendly and want us to play frisbee with them (they seem to think all Americans are very athletic), and I hope that I'll feel less awkward/find more to say to them soon. I'm sure I studied a bit, and that I spent a fun hour in the kitchen puzzling over the title of an old movie with Julianna and David, but my memory stops there. I keep feeling like I've been here so long and have the right to be exhausted and useless after every long day/refreshed and full of thoughts the next morning--have I really only been here a week?
On Monday a handful of the girls got up early to test the capricious system that is dining at Keble. Gabriel had contacted the office about meal times over the weekend and heard that breakfast would be served from 9:00-9:15, "seriously." We bolted out of the house at 8:40, and the long walk left us only a few seconds to gasp at the meticulously trimmed front quad (they're just begging for you to walk on them! I have never walked by more dangerous lawns in my life!) before running up the stairs into the lofty dining hall.
Oxford has instilled in us a sense of hierarchy very quickly, so even though we were allowed to sit "just this once" at the high table situated horizontally at the top of the room we picked to admire the general splendor/wolf down our toast from one of the three long tables. The hall is a four or five story arch of mottled brown, white, and red bricks, with seemingly Indian scalloped flowers and ribs along the ceiling (you might be able to tell from the pictures that the samemotif was used in the Taj Mahal--a neat/eerie relic of the colonialism thriving at the time of Keble's founding). Along the walls there are portraits of the college's most celebrated dons in a variety of poses (a lot of options to consider for how we we each should be commemorated once we are famous intellectuals... I think I might test the red carpet, over the shoulder look, yet unpainted). Breakfast in the end didn't seem too fast, as we all had time for gaping/our cards not working/popping coffee pods into the oddly hip instant beverage maker.
After quitting the dining hall we figured we could trespass in the unopened college a little longer and followed Gabriel past the chapel (which has a pre-Raphaelite painting we supposedly must see), the college bar (where Keble subsidies makes the drinks cheaper! President Adams would probably cry!), and the mini-gym that I might join if I feel like the 3+ miles of walking per day isn't enough. We also ventured into the covered market in town, where Gabriel showed us the best places for cheap food (Fasta Pasta and some pie company) before Julianna and Sarah and I split off to get Julianna a "rucksack" (a.k.a. backpack) at Argos, some weird communist store where you look through a catalogue in the small front room and the cashier goes to get your purchase from the back.
One of my favorite parts of Oxford thus far revealed itself to us when we breezed past the "visitors not allowed" sign to enter the Radcliffe Camera. A friendly old man checked our Bodleian cards and bogs and explained the reading rooms to us, and we went as quietly as we could among gasps of "Bitchin'!" into the lower reading room. The circular "basement" reading rom is made up of eight stone domes of shelves, long desks with personal lamps, and wrought-iron gated windows encircling a central reference desk, which makes the room feel at once huge and secluded, cavelike, and warm. We ventured into the brighter upper camera, with its two stories of shelves, svelte iron spiral staircases, and white columns, but I could tell that I felt more at home in the basement. Even a look at the Bodleian--its square staircases around old dumbwaiters, its "cloakrooms" (or bathrooms), its closer-set desks bathed in orange lamplight, and its musty shelves of original manuscripts and first editions in the mahogany Duke Humphrey's library (a.k.a Hogwarts library)--could not keep me from going back and reading "A Room of One's Own" in the lower camera. It feels too surreal and pretentious, but somehow the atmosphere encourages me to think better, and to feel that everyone wants me to think better; studying oddly enough has become my most anticipated activity every day if I can sit and think there.
The rest of Monday, post library crawl, is a bit foggy. I know we ate lunch with some of the Keble students who run the college activities over the holidays. They are all very friendly and want us to play frisbee with them (they seem to think all Americans are very athletic), and I hope that I'll feel less awkward/find more to say to them soon. I'm sure I studied a bit, and that I spent a fun hour in the kitchen puzzling over the title of an old movie with Julianna and David, but my memory stops there. I keep feeling like I've been here so long and have the right to be exhausted and useless after every long day/refreshed and full of thoughts the next morning--have I really only been here a week?
Monday, September 10, 2007
Stonehenge, Bath, and the Bod
I feel like a lot of what happened on Saturday can be covered by looking at my photo albums (picasaweb.google.com/elmorelt), but for the sake of refreshing my own memory I'll rehash a few things here. Whoever tells you that Stonehenge is intriguing and/or breathtaking is probably high. It is mysterious indeed that people thousands of years ago wanted to drag these 4 ton stones into the middle of nowhere, but after hearing about/seeing Stonehenge in so many history books and films seeing it in person didn't do anything new for me. You don't even get to "get up close and personal" (as one UGA student put it) with it anymore! It was a cold morning, so most of us took a few funny pictures with the rocks to lighten the mood and generally scurried past most of the numbers posted on the ground that guided our audio tour. If even a historical society can't make heads or tails of Stonehenge, I figure it is best left a mystery.
We drove another hour to see Bath, the town which houses England's only natural hot spring. Jane Austen lived in Bath for a few years, so I was ready to get a bit more into her mindframe as several of us set out for the Jane Austen Centre in a northern area of town. We could see how Bath was a fashionable social center as we walked up rows and rows of shops (including The Disney Store?), and the fancy clothes/small rooms/traffic around the residential streets made Bath for me as well as for Ms. Austen a fun place to visit but nowhere to dream of living. The Centre was pretty small, with only a few decorated rooms, a costume exhibit, and a tea room that we didn't have time to visit, but I am pretty glad that we went. The girl who gave a small talk on the Austen family's time in Bath was enthusiastic in a nerdy but cute way, so I could envision myself having a job like hers if I lived in Bath. Since we were in the neighborhood anyway, we passed through the townhomes known as The Circus and the Royal Crescent--the huge scale of the architecture was overwhelming the the best of ways, and I could have sat on the sprawling grass park in front of the Crescent just people-watching for the rest of the day.
Eventually we did amble back to the center of town, and, upon the advice of a passing group of fellow UGA students, we coughed up the 9 pounds apiece to go in the Roman Baths. Money well spent! I laughed about the balmy atmosphere around the percolating, green pool reminding me of home in Georgia, and even though we were not allowed to bathe we enjoyed taking pictures from all possible angles, listening to the fun/fact-filled tour over the "audio wands" (much cooler than their Stonehenge counterparts), and imagining what the largely unexcavated ruins must have looked like in their prime. We skittered in and out of the abbey next door before we had to return to the bus; the hodge-podge of family crests and tombstones dotting the floors and the walls of the old building made a neat contrast with the vaulted ceilings and hundreds of stained glass windows above. There even was a modern evening service going on during our tour! With what I've seen of England so far, I am constantly impressed by the attitude of renovating and reappropriating history--as weird as it might look to tour the baths with a glorified walkie-talkie, or to sit in a Victorian house typing on a computer, you can never ignore the wonderful history of this place.
We took a bit of downtime once we got back to Oxford (I had to lay down, since even sitting has aggravated what feels like an arthritic hip I've gotten from walking so much!), but then several of us decided to hunt for the elusive Turf Tavern. We found it with little difficulty, but we arrived just after they had stopped serving food at 7:30 and I split off with the group that went in search for supper. We saw a sign for "excellent food" on the side of the King's Arms, a pub on the corner of Broad Street across from the library buildings, and, having eaten two bowls of cereal earlier, I had just to sit and be jealous of my friends' "veg lasagne" and "bangers & mash." I enjoyed my cider with the best of them as we relaxed and chatted along one of the pub's long, wooden tables, and, despite having chugged the last third of my drink on a dare, I think I'll enjoy pub culture in the nonchalant Oxford student way instead of in the debauched Georgia student way for the rest of the trip.
Sunday was our first breather of the trip, even though we ended up walking over a lot of the city again. I cleaned up my room and read most of the morning, and by 2 or so in the afternoon Sarah, Carly, and I wandered into Summertown for coffee and groceries so that we could meet Julianne, Kao, and David in the City Centre to seek the Krispy Kreme soon thereafter. Sarah and I got to Cornmarket Street after idling in the UGA house's backyard for a bit (while she, Carly, and Zach smoked, I looked around the back fence and found a peartree! It's like the Oxford equivalent of the peachtree, since lots of streets are named after the trees but few are actually inside the city), and soon enough we had indeed found the Krispy Kreme in the castle ("Kastle"?). Their hot doughnut machine was broken, but we all enjoyed some of the baked doughnuts and didn't mind having to make plans to return for the real deal very soon.
Dinner at the UGA house was fun and crazy as we tried to cram all 30 program members/staff/families into the dining room for pasta. It took everyone to get enough chairs into the room and enough dishes washed afterwards, but it was neat to see everyone in one place. Dr. Bradshaw, the professor for one of the first seminars and the organizer of all of our tutorials for the trimester, visited and gave a very funny speech inspired by a cat he saw in the backyard. The night was pretty quiet after that, and I tried to get ahead in some of my reading for Dr. Eberle's class, but I had a bit of a scare when I apparently got stung by some insect that had wandered into the library. My ankle swelled incredibly, similar to the infamous "tater toe" incident, and I got a bit lightheaded. Even though I eventually found Gabriel, who gave me some Benadryl, I was a bit shaken. I have to be looking out for myself here! Thankfully Benadryl knocks me out pretty quickly, so I couldn't sit up and fret about it for too long.
To be continued (5:40 p.m.)...
(11:40 p.m. 9/11/07) Or not, I guess! It's been a fun but busy day--going to two seminars, reading, and of course the long walks to and from Keble--so I'll try to get in an update tomorrow afternoon. Lots of love as ever from Oxford! --Lauren
We drove another hour to see Bath, the town which houses England's only natural hot spring. Jane Austen lived in Bath for a few years, so I was ready to get a bit more into her mindframe as several of us set out for the Jane Austen Centre in a northern area of town. We could see how Bath was a fashionable social center as we walked up rows and rows of shops (including The Disney Store?), and the fancy clothes/small rooms/traffic around the residential streets made Bath for me as well as for Ms. Austen a fun place to visit but nowhere to dream of living. The Centre was pretty small, with only a few decorated rooms, a costume exhibit, and a tea room that we didn't have time to visit, but I am pretty glad that we went. The girl who gave a small talk on the Austen family's time in Bath was enthusiastic in a nerdy but cute way, so I could envision myself having a job like hers if I lived in Bath. Since we were in the neighborhood anyway, we passed through the townhomes known as The Circus and the Royal Crescent--the huge scale of the architecture was overwhelming the the best of ways, and I could have sat on the sprawling grass park in front of the Crescent just people-watching for the rest of the day.
Eventually we did amble back to the center of town, and, upon the advice of a passing group of fellow UGA students, we coughed up the 9 pounds apiece to go in the Roman Baths. Money well spent! I laughed about the balmy atmosphere around the percolating, green pool reminding me of home in Georgia, and even though we were not allowed to bathe we enjoyed taking pictures from all possible angles, listening to the fun/fact-filled tour over the "audio wands" (much cooler than their Stonehenge counterparts), and imagining what the largely unexcavated ruins must have looked like in their prime. We skittered in and out of the abbey next door before we had to return to the bus; the hodge-podge of family crests and tombstones dotting the floors and the walls of the old building made a neat contrast with the vaulted ceilings and hundreds of stained glass windows above. There even was a modern evening service going on during our tour! With what I've seen of England so far, I am constantly impressed by the attitude of renovating and reappropriating history--as weird as it might look to tour the baths with a glorified walkie-talkie, or to sit in a Victorian house typing on a computer, you can never ignore the wonderful history of this place.
We took a bit of downtime once we got back to Oxford (I had to lay down, since even sitting has aggravated what feels like an arthritic hip I've gotten from walking so much!), but then several of us decided to hunt for the elusive Turf Tavern. We found it with little difficulty, but we arrived just after they had stopped serving food at 7:30 and I split off with the group that went in search for supper. We saw a sign for "excellent food" on the side of the King's Arms, a pub on the corner of Broad Street across from the library buildings, and, having eaten two bowls of cereal earlier, I had just to sit and be jealous of my friends' "veg lasagne" and "bangers & mash." I enjoyed my cider with the best of them as we relaxed and chatted along one of the pub's long, wooden tables, and, despite having chugged the last third of my drink on a dare, I think I'll enjoy pub culture in the nonchalant Oxford student way instead of in the debauched Georgia student way for the rest of the trip.
Sunday was our first breather of the trip, even though we ended up walking over a lot of the city again. I cleaned up my room and read most of the morning, and by 2 or so in the afternoon Sarah, Carly, and I wandered into Summertown for coffee and groceries so that we could meet Julianne, Kao, and David in the City Centre to seek the Krispy Kreme soon thereafter. Sarah and I got to Cornmarket Street after idling in the UGA house's backyard for a bit (while she, Carly, and Zach smoked, I looked around the back fence and found a peartree! It's like the Oxford equivalent of the peachtree, since lots of streets are named after the trees but few are actually inside the city), and soon enough we had indeed found the Krispy Kreme in the castle ("Kastle"?). Their hot doughnut machine was broken, but we all enjoyed some of the baked doughnuts and didn't mind having to make plans to return for the real deal very soon.
Dinner at the UGA house was fun and crazy as we tried to cram all 30 program members/staff/families into the dining room for pasta. It took everyone to get enough chairs into the room and enough dishes washed afterwards, but it was neat to see everyone in one place. Dr. Bradshaw, the professor for one of the first seminars and the organizer of all of our tutorials for the trimester, visited and gave a very funny speech inspired by a cat he saw in the backyard. The night was pretty quiet after that, and I tried to get ahead in some of my reading for Dr. Eberle's class, but I had a bit of a scare when I apparently got stung by some insect that had wandered into the library. My ankle swelled incredibly, similar to the infamous "tater toe" incident, and I got a bit lightheaded. Even though I eventually found Gabriel, who gave me some Benadryl, I was a bit shaken. I have to be looking out for myself here! Thankfully Benadryl knocks me out pretty quickly, so I couldn't sit up and fret about it for too long.
To be continued (5:40 p.m.)...
(11:40 p.m. 9/11/07) Or not, I guess! It's been a fun but busy day--going to two seminars, reading, and of course the long walks to and from Keble--so I'll try to get in an update tomorrow afternoon. Lots of love as ever from Oxford! --Lauren
Friday, September 7, 2007
New Shoes
The group flight from Atlanta to London-Gatwick airport was pretty pleasant. I met about 8 of the people on the trip--Gily had the excellent idea of wearing her UGA at Oxford shirt, so I had no excuse to not sit near them and I think we all enjoyed have people to talk to during the 2.5 hours we had to wait for the plane after getting to the airport 3 hours early to be on the safe side of the long security lines. I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep on the flight anyway, after two tries at 8+ hour flights this May and June, so I had resigned myself to watching the crappy inflight movies, but I soon learned that the 767 we were on, though being more cramped than I remembered, had personal TVs so we could pick our own movies! I rushed through Meet the Robinsons and Shrek 3 in my excitement. I then tried to sleep, then tried to sleep with my iPod on since I was bored, then tried to watch The Office. The lights snapped on at 1 am Georgia time (6 am England time), and I enjoyed my pre-packaged but oddly fresh/warm croissant (ah, the miracle of science) while I watched our approach to the island. I first thought "Wow, check out Ireland!", but realizing that the landmass I saw was way too narrow to be its own island/country I checked the map to see that we were flying over a bay between Wales and south England. England looks a lot like Iowa since so much of it is still organized in neat little packets of pasture and farmland, so I felt at home. But then it looked like there were no roads between all of farms! Apparently every English road has to be surrounded with bushes and trees (for privacy?), so I imagined roads where all of the neat lines of trees were.
Navigating the airport was not so pleasant. It's laid out as crappily as JFK in New York where you have to walk around in a circle almost to get to baggage claim. My knee was killing me after the cramped flight, and my carry-ons full of books already felt too heavy. Thankfully customs was very quick (I bungled my departure date a few times, but the agent must have realized it was too early to be asking anyone anything more than a yes/no questions). Baggage claim tested me a bit since my bags came out on a different belt that some of my fellow flight members and when I found them the bigger (read: 72 pound) one's handle was broken. I can't roll it properly anymore, and I found this out when I rolled over my toe and removed the top half of my toenail. I bled all the 2 hour bus ride to Oxford, but since several people had helped me with the bag crisis and since I discovered some bandaids in my backpack I felt cheery enough listening to Seu Jorge and The Shins in traffic.
Driving up Banbury Road only just prepared me for our awesome new house. We're in, apparently, the rich part of residential Oxford, surrounded by huge houses with huge gardens that must belong to some of the colleges or some of the people who named the colleges. We could tell we were home by the flaming red double doors, and inside we were treated to that wonderful "new house" smell. I am in a triple room at the front of the house (the one at the first landing), which was great yesterday because I could hardly stand dragging my bags up any more stairs and will be good for the whole stay here because of the wonderful view. I have the top bunk and the center desk in front of five bay-style windows that overlook the road; try as I might to capture this glory in a photo (which, by the way, can be found on my new photo website picasaweb.google.com/elmorelt), it is impossible to recreate. You'll just have to imagine me looking at it as I write this post. My roommates, Carly and Ashley, are both really nice (very accomodating, like me--we took a long time deciding who got which cabinets since none of us wanted to step on any toes), and we mostly filled the room to storage capacity as we unpacked.
The afternoon is a bit of a sleep-deprived blur for me at the moment. I know I set out to Summerville (a few blocks up Banbury Road from the UGA house--Oxford to Summerville is like Atlanta to "Midtown", only Summerville is LESS expensive) to get some more bandaids (or "plasters" in Britspeak), and I ended up meeting Laura and Carlye to go to Co-op for groceries (including Empire magazine!) and to this Lebanese restaurant for a cheap lunch of falafel. I stayed back a bit to get the milk that was too heavy to carry the whole way, and the evening sprawled into a weird stretch of unpacking and sitting around after I looked around a lot of campus with Sarah. Somehow I missed the boat on going to dinner with a lot of the group, but then I had time to find the two incredibly nice girls from Florida, Sara and the third Carly, to eat cereal in the amazing main kitchen (where I will probably cook tonight as soon as I can muster the strength to walk to the grocery store!). I passed out at 10 and woke up only to the sounds of Kurt banging on a pot to tell us we only had 10 minutes before we left for the tour of the Bodleian Library.
To be continued--5:20 p.m. Oxford time
7:00 p.m. Oxford time--Had to take a break, but after the last walk I can manage for the day and an awesome dinner from the grocery store of the gods (Marks & Spencer) I feel awesome.
So yeah, totally thought they were joking about wake-up today. I hadn't set my phone correctly, so the alarm went off at 9 and not 8. I have never dressed that fast in my life! It was so nice and cool out this morning, so the 20 minute walk to Broad Street was not that bad. The library, like most buildings in the college, was set behind one entryway to a quad, and we were ushered into a really severe looking room by a really nice looking lady. She explained to us that the room has been used by University government as well as British government--Parliament would occasionally be held there when things like the plague drove the court out of London. The ceilings were high and super-intricate, and family crests dotted most of the building, commemorating the nobles who donated to build the University. We didn't get a tour of the library like I expected because it took so long for all of us to get our cards and recite the Bodleian oath (to obey library rules, to not damage any books, and, most importantly, to not kindle flame in the building), but after a quick coffee break up the street we returned to take a tour of the campus.
We met our tour guide, Debbie, in the middle of a spat with a University official--some hawkish lady snapped at the folks who brought food into the *outdoor* quad, and Debbie fought with her a bit, continuing a vendetta she later said began when that lady had tried to plow into her tour group on a bicycle (the #1 weapon in Oxford, I'd say). Debbie claimed early on that she was different from most Brits ("because I have a sense of humor"), and she led a really fun, spontaneous tour through the City Centre. We saw a 300-year old tree, the beautiful chapel of Exeter College (where J. R. R. Tolkien and Philip Pullman studied), the Radcliffe Camera, and the most-exclusive All Souls College. We didn't see anyone walking on the quad behind their fence, but we were assured that, when they do, they float.
Several groups broke off to go shopping. Most peeled off to get cell phones (which Sarah and I did yesterday! So smart!), but Sarah and my roommate Carly and I went in search of bigger game. We found Gloucester Green, which is surrounded by a lot of neat-looking coffee shops and pubs, and eventually we asked someone and found Primark, a really cheap clothing and home goods store. I got towels there (yay for having to do the laundry less often, which is good because right now we can't get into the laundry shed...?), and at Boots on Cornmarket Street I loaded up on essentials (it's like Target and Ulta in one cosmetic-shopper's heaven). We looked through the edge of the covered market to get really cheap and delicious sandwiches for lunch (the one I went to was playing Paolo Nutini--old hat for Brits, I suppose, but I was enchanted), and I agonizingly trundled off the quickest route, looking for the poster shop (lame for dorm decorating, but good for souvenirs), before getting home.
Even though my legs really hurt from walking so much the past two days, I was already planning where else I wanted to go when I was walking home (yoga and video store in Summerville, for starters). I'm looking forward to having a bit of free time on Sunday to check things out, find my favorite coffee shop, etc. In retrospect, the Cannes trip was definitely a great prep for this longer stay abroad--I've gotten so self-reliant that I'm ready and willing to find the things I want to find, when I want to find them, to have fun, and I don't feel as much of the need to travel in big packs. It'll be good to have excursions, like the one we're going on tomorrow, and big classes for the first few weeks, but I can tell I'm really going to enjoy my "me time" here.
The evening's been pretty tame. Carly and I both agreed that a bit of time just to sit down was heavenly, so I took my time uploading pictures on the super fast Picasa and updating a bit of this journal before heading back out for dinner. Summerville is cheaper and, more importantly, closer than City Centre, so I got a small group to walk over to M & S to get some prepared meals. I had this awesome stuffed chicken and got some cereal for later whose ingredient label rivals the delicious Casino granola that I would eat five times a day in France. I think I'm going to grab a shower now while the house is pretty quiet--need to be ready for another early morning since we're going to Stonehenge and Bath tomorrow!
Navigating the airport was not so pleasant. It's laid out as crappily as JFK in New York where you have to walk around in a circle almost to get to baggage claim. My knee was killing me after the cramped flight, and my carry-ons full of books already felt too heavy. Thankfully customs was very quick (I bungled my departure date a few times, but the agent must have realized it was too early to be asking anyone anything more than a yes/no questions). Baggage claim tested me a bit since my bags came out on a different belt that some of my fellow flight members and when I found them the bigger (read: 72 pound) one's handle was broken. I can't roll it properly anymore, and I found this out when I rolled over my toe and removed the top half of my toenail. I bled all the 2 hour bus ride to Oxford, but since several people had helped me with the bag crisis and since I discovered some bandaids in my backpack I felt cheery enough listening to Seu Jorge and The Shins in traffic.
Driving up Banbury Road only just prepared me for our awesome new house. We're in, apparently, the rich part of residential Oxford, surrounded by huge houses with huge gardens that must belong to some of the colleges or some of the people who named the colleges. We could tell we were home by the flaming red double doors, and inside we were treated to that wonderful "new house" smell. I am in a triple room at the front of the house (the one at the first landing), which was great yesterday because I could hardly stand dragging my bags up any more stairs and will be good for the whole stay here because of the wonderful view. I have the top bunk and the center desk in front of five bay-style windows that overlook the road; try as I might to capture this glory in a photo (which, by the way, can be found on my new photo website picasaweb.google.com/elmorelt), it is impossible to recreate. You'll just have to imagine me looking at it as I write this post. My roommates, Carly and Ashley, are both really nice (very accomodating, like me--we took a long time deciding who got which cabinets since none of us wanted to step on any toes), and we mostly filled the room to storage capacity as we unpacked.
The afternoon is a bit of a sleep-deprived blur for me at the moment. I know I set out to Summerville (a few blocks up Banbury Road from the UGA house--Oxford to Summerville is like Atlanta to "Midtown", only Summerville is LESS expensive) to get some more bandaids (or "plasters" in Britspeak), and I ended up meeting Laura and Carlye to go to Co-op for groceries (including Empire magazine!) and to this Lebanese restaurant for a cheap lunch of falafel. I stayed back a bit to get the milk that was too heavy to carry the whole way, and the evening sprawled into a weird stretch of unpacking and sitting around after I looked around a lot of campus with Sarah. Somehow I missed the boat on going to dinner with a lot of the group, but then I had time to find the two incredibly nice girls from Florida, Sara and the third Carly, to eat cereal in the amazing main kitchen (where I will probably cook tonight as soon as I can muster the strength to walk to the grocery store!). I passed out at 10 and woke up only to the sounds of Kurt banging on a pot to tell us we only had 10 minutes before we left for the tour of the Bodleian Library.
To be continued--5:20 p.m. Oxford time
7:00 p.m. Oxford time--Had to take a break, but after the last walk I can manage for the day and an awesome dinner from the grocery store of the gods (Marks & Spencer) I feel awesome.
So yeah, totally thought they were joking about wake-up today. I hadn't set my phone correctly, so the alarm went off at 9 and not 8. I have never dressed that fast in my life! It was so nice and cool out this morning, so the 20 minute walk to Broad Street was not that bad. The library, like most buildings in the college, was set behind one entryway to a quad, and we were ushered into a really severe looking room by a really nice looking lady. She explained to us that the room has been used by University government as well as British government--Parliament would occasionally be held there when things like the plague drove the court out of London. The ceilings were high and super-intricate, and family crests dotted most of the building, commemorating the nobles who donated to build the University. We didn't get a tour of the library like I expected because it took so long for all of us to get our cards and recite the Bodleian oath (to obey library rules, to not damage any books, and, most importantly, to not kindle flame in the building), but after a quick coffee break up the street we returned to take a tour of the campus.
We met our tour guide, Debbie, in the middle of a spat with a University official--some hawkish lady snapped at the folks who brought food into the *outdoor* quad, and Debbie fought with her a bit, continuing a vendetta she later said began when that lady had tried to plow into her tour group on a bicycle (the #1 weapon in Oxford, I'd say). Debbie claimed early on that she was different from most Brits ("because I have a sense of humor"), and she led a really fun, spontaneous tour through the City Centre. We saw a 300-year old tree, the beautiful chapel of Exeter College (where J. R. R. Tolkien and Philip Pullman studied), the Radcliffe Camera, and the most-exclusive All Souls College. We didn't see anyone walking on the quad behind their fence, but we were assured that, when they do, they float.
Several groups broke off to go shopping. Most peeled off to get cell phones (which Sarah and I did yesterday! So smart!), but Sarah and my roommate Carly and I went in search of bigger game. We found Gloucester Green, which is surrounded by a lot of neat-looking coffee shops and pubs, and eventually we asked someone and found Primark, a really cheap clothing and home goods store. I got towels there (yay for having to do the laundry less often, which is good because right now we can't get into the laundry shed...?), and at Boots on Cornmarket Street I loaded up on essentials (it's like Target and Ulta in one cosmetic-shopper's heaven). We looked through the edge of the covered market to get really cheap and delicious sandwiches for lunch (the one I went to was playing Paolo Nutini--old hat for Brits, I suppose, but I was enchanted), and I agonizingly trundled off the quickest route, looking for the poster shop (lame for dorm decorating, but good for souvenirs), before getting home.
Even though my legs really hurt from walking so much the past two days, I was already planning where else I wanted to go when I was walking home (yoga and video store in Summerville, for starters). I'm looking forward to having a bit of free time on Sunday to check things out, find my favorite coffee shop, etc. In retrospect, the Cannes trip was definitely a great prep for this longer stay abroad--I've gotten so self-reliant that I'm ready and willing to find the things I want to find, when I want to find them, to have fun, and I don't feel as much of the need to travel in big packs. It'll be good to have excursions, like the one we're going on tomorrow, and big classes for the first few weeks, but I can tell I'm really going to enjoy my "me time" here.
The evening's been pretty tame. Carly and I both agreed that a bit of time just to sit down was heavenly, so I took my time uploading pictures on the super fast Picasa and updating a bit of this journal before heading back out for dinner. Summerville is cheaper and, more importantly, closer than City Centre, so I got a small group to walk over to M & S to get some prepared meals. I had this awesome stuffed chicken and got some cereal for later whose ingredient label rivals the delicious Casino granola that I would eat five times a day in France. I think I'm going to grab a shower now while the house is pretty quiet--need to be ready for another early morning since we're going to Stonehenge and Bath tomorrow!
Thursday, August 23, 2007
Oxfordshirt!
Say the title of this post without the "T" on the end and you'll be talking about where I'll be living for the next three months (Oxfordshire)! I'm actually wearing an Oxfordshirt right now--we got our first official UGA at Oxford togs at the orientation tonight, and even though it's long-sleeved and it's summer I'll just turn up the AC. I wanted to see how it looked on me, and the answer is: Pretty damned official.
I've been slaving away over my 20+ books for the whole summer post-Cannes, and with the number dwindled to 4 (totally manageable in, uh, thirteen days) I'm finally starting to anticipate the payoff. I actually got to hear a bit about Oxford today even before I went to the second orientation; I was catching up with Tolu at Jittery Joe's before I went up to Park Hall, and a nice girl overhead my Oxford chatter and came over to witness about her fun on the summer program! I totally get how a study abroad program can turn you into a missionary, since anyone who asks me about Cannes practically gets a Powerpoint presentation out of me, so I started to envision Oxford as an experience possibly as fun as France and then found it hard to just sit in my seat and not run around in excited circles.
I got super gross walking up to the Broad St bus stop with Tolu (and standing to chat with Bill, who I totally meant to bring the Transformers poster from my most recent Empire magazine), so I found one of the hidden Park Hall bathrooms like the savvy upperclassman I am and then settled into the big lecture hall with a lot of similarly uncomfortable-looking kids and their parents. I settled accounts with one of the program managers (whew, lots of money, but this time it was my dad's! rock on, Dad!) and got my T-shirt to fiddle with so I looked busy enough to not have to make awkward small talk with anyone (I know that's so awful, but when I've been out of school this long and only talk to my family--who get me--or my regular customers at the video store--who generally are cute/crazy old people--on a regular basis, I feel a little socially retarded). We got a virtual tour of our new home, full of lots of details. 1) No, it is not flooded. 2) You might just have an oven for a desk. 3) Laundry is free in the building (WTFBBQ?! After 8 euro loads in France, this was probably the best news I could have gotten all night). We also went over a rough itinerary--we'll probably be going to Stonehenge or Bath for our first group excursion, we get a full tour of the Bodleian library on our first day there, and once a week for the first four weeks a group of students will be responsible for making dinner for the rest of the house (and spending the 200 pounds allotted for it wisely)! I can definitely foresee six or eight batches of my eggplant curry if my housemates like spicy (aka awesome) food...
After two hours we were sent home with packets full of more info, like Dr. Trivedi's quirky review of all things gourmet in Oxford, Dr. Pfile's file of nearby grocery stores/ATMs/bookstores, and an overeager/probably student-compiled rundown of the Oxford bar scene. I think a lot of kids and parents still had some questions, or felt nervous about 12 weeks away from home in a strange environment, but I left ready to take Oxford as it comes. I've been trying to justify taking two rather expensive school trips within half a year (three, if you count the Grady long weekend in NYC in January), but I feel like all of my experience has culminated in a great, independent mindset for myself. I've had to make it work, often on my own, getting to magazine offices in Times Square or exclusive premieres on the Croisette. I've learned that, even if you're speaking the same language, you have to communicate differently with people from different cities and backgrounds (and it's pretty fun figuring it out!). I really enjoy the days when I'm on my own to find something to do--it's either an accomplishment when I get a few friends together for dinner, or a mental break when I can just take a walk by myself and not think about anything. It has been hard to keep this state of wonder up while drudging through boring days at the magazine office or crazy days of people yelling at me about late fees, but I feel like I go into every day with fewer expectations and end every day with fewer disappointments. It's a good thing.
I've been slaving away over my 20+ books for the whole summer post-Cannes, and with the number dwindled to 4 (totally manageable in, uh, thirteen days) I'm finally starting to anticipate the payoff. I actually got to hear a bit about Oxford today even before I went to the second orientation; I was catching up with Tolu at Jittery Joe's before I went up to Park Hall, and a nice girl overhead my Oxford chatter and came over to witness about her fun on the summer program! I totally get how a study abroad program can turn you into a missionary, since anyone who asks me about Cannes practically gets a Powerpoint presentation out of me, so I started to envision Oxford as an experience possibly as fun as France and then found it hard to just sit in my seat and not run around in excited circles.
I got super gross walking up to the Broad St bus stop with Tolu (and standing to chat with Bill, who I totally meant to bring the Transformers poster from my most recent Empire magazine), so I found one of the hidden Park Hall bathrooms like the savvy upperclassman I am and then settled into the big lecture hall with a lot of similarly uncomfortable-looking kids and their parents. I settled accounts with one of the program managers (whew, lots of money, but this time it was my dad's! rock on, Dad!) and got my T-shirt to fiddle with so I looked busy enough to not have to make awkward small talk with anyone (I know that's so awful, but when I've been out of school this long and only talk to my family--who get me--or my regular customers at the video store--who generally are cute/crazy old people--on a regular basis, I feel a little socially retarded). We got a virtual tour of our new home, full of lots of details. 1) No, it is not flooded. 2) You might just have an oven for a desk. 3) Laundry is free in the building (WTFBBQ?! After 8 euro loads in France, this was probably the best news I could have gotten all night). We also went over a rough itinerary--we'll probably be going to Stonehenge or Bath for our first group excursion, we get a full tour of the Bodleian library on our first day there, and once a week for the first four weeks a group of students will be responsible for making dinner for the rest of the house (and spending the 200 pounds allotted for it wisely)! I can definitely foresee six or eight batches of my eggplant curry if my housemates like spicy (aka awesome) food...
After two hours we were sent home with packets full of more info, like Dr. Trivedi's quirky review of all things gourmet in Oxford, Dr. Pfile's file of nearby grocery stores/ATMs/bookstores, and an overeager/probably student-compiled rundown of the Oxford bar scene. I think a lot of kids and parents still had some questions, or felt nervous about 12 weeks away from home in a strange environment, but I left ready to take Oxford as it comes. I've been trying to justify taking two rather expensive school trips within half a year (three, if you count the Grady long weekend in NYC in January), but I feel like all of my experience has culminated in a great, independent mindset for myself. I've had to make it work, often on my own, getting to magazine offices in Times Square or exclusive premieres on the Croisette. I've learned that, even if you're speaking the same language, you have to communicate differently with people from different cities and backgrounds (and it's pretty fun figuring it out!). I really enjoy the days when I'm on my own to find something to do--it's either an accomplishment when I get a few friends together for dinner, or a mental break when I can just take a walk by myself and not think about anything. It has been hard to keep this state of wonder up while drudging through boring days at the magazine office or crazy days of people yelling at me about late fees, but I feel like I go into every day with fewer expectations and end every day with fewer disappointments. It's a good thing.
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
Back in Cannes
It wasn't too hard for me to get back into life in the suburbs. I hadn't felt homesick whatsoever in France (despite some pangs reminding me of eating guacamole and watching movies in the basement with my family, I was too busy enjoying myself), but suddenly sleeping in my bed, waking up (early, even!) to make my own espresso and toast, and walking the dog were all thrilling.
I commute to Atlanta three times a week to intern at The Atlantan, a luxury lifestyle magazine. It's pretty fun to get all dolled up and listen to hip hop on my drive into Buckhead, and everyone at the office is really nice. Three other college girls are interning there too--we have a cute cluster of cubicles near the "kitchen" (read: free gummi bears) and Sarah C's desk and its illustrious "beauty box" (free samples of Shiseido and some super expensive sunscreen! holy cow!)--and all the editors prank on each other over lunch. Some highlights: playing chicken in the parking lot of Taqueria del Sol (and pissing off a slow-driving old lady) on Friday and looking into an editorial meeting with the Sarahs, Danny, and Travis on Monday. I'm still a bit awkward around the office, and I still don't know if this is the right thing for me, but it's so nice to be working out the kinks with such an inviting group of people.
I've had a few princess and the pauper moments with my second job as a rental clerk back at dear old Hollywood Video. I'm the only intern to have/need another job, and a pretty low-class one at that, but going to work three minutes away from my house is even cooler than it used to be compared to my hour-long commute to north Atlanta! I've rented five movies over two shifts; I've always been a nut about my free rental perks, but after getting to see free movie after free movie at Cannes I've had quite a void to fill.
Tonight, Mom and I watched Barton Fink, the Coen brothers' film that won the Palme d'Or in 1991. I was instantly amazed at how quickly the "Cannes feeling" came back watching this old awardee--I could see myself sitting in the pink armchairs of the Palais (albeit with bigger hair and more sequins), listening to the weird Beauty and the Beast intro music, feeling like the movie is too long and challenging even though it's in my own language for once. I'm not sure what to make of Barton Fink and have postponed looking at other reviews as long as possible to try to work it out on my own. I keep going back to good acting and great cinematography (hearing the waves whenever Barton looked at the picture of the beach put me in his mind, and probably made me feel a bit crazy for all of it), but when I can barely make heads or tails of what really happened or what didn't I have to think: Is it futile? Is it one of those filmic "fuck you"s that Cannes is famous for, a la Wild at Heart or All That Jazz? In the end, is the film so shallow, so intentionally convoluted and pointless plot-wise, that you're supposed to think it's deep? For all that I want to hate it or refuse to dignify it with any further mention, I did enjoy watching it. I think Cannes has either made me really tolerant or really obsessive.
I commute to Atlanta three times a week to intern at The Atlantan, a luxury lifestyle magazine. It's pretty fun to get all dolled up and listen to hip hop on my drive into Buckhead, and everyone at the office is really nice. Three other college girls are interning there too--we have a cute cluster of cubicles near the "kitchen" (read: free gummi bears) and Sarah C's desk and its illustrious "beauty box" (free samples of Shiseido and some super expensive sunscreen! holy cow!)--and all the editors prank on each other over lunch. Some highlights: playing chicken in the parking lot of Taqueria del Sol (and pissing off a slow-driving old lady) on Friday and looking into an editorial meeting with the Sarahs, Danny, and Travis on Monday. I'm still a bit awkward around the office, and I still don't know if this is the right thing for me, but it's so nice to be working out the kinks with such an inviting group of people.
I've had a few princess and the pauper moments with my second job as a rental clerk back at dear old Hollywood Video. I'm the only intern to have/need another job, and a pretty low-class one at that, but going to work three minutes away from my house is even cooler than it used to be compared to my hour-long commute to north Atlanta! I've rented five movies over two shifts; I've always been a nut about my free rental perks, but after getting to see free movie after free movie at Cannes I've had quite a void to fill.
Tonight, Mom and I watched Barton Fink, the Coen brothers' film that won the Palme d'Or in 1991. I was instantly amazed at how quickly the "Cannes feeling" came back watching this old awardee--I could see myself sitting in the pink armchairs of the Palais (albeit with bigger hair and more sequins), listening to the weird Beauty and the Beast intro music, feeling like the movie is too long and challenging even though it's in my own language for once. I'm not sure what to make of Barton Fink and have postponed looking at other reviews as long as possible to try to work it out on my own. I keep going back to good acting and great cinematography (hearing the waves whenever Barton looked at the picture of the beach put me in his mind, and probably made me feel a bit crazy for all of it), but when I can barely make heads or tails of what really happened or what didn't I have to think: Is it futile? Is it one of those filmic "fuck you"s that Cannes is famous for, a la Wild at Heart or All That Jazz? In the end, is the film so shallow, so intentionally convoluted and pointless plot-wise, that you're supposed to think it's deep? For all that I want to hate it or refuse to dignify it with any further mention, I did enjoy watching it. I think Cannes has either made me really tolerant or really obsessive.
Monday, June 11, 2007
Last days
June 6-8
Apparently tequila shots night in JLP went off without a hitch. Most of my friends told me stories about falling down while dancing—later they showed me the sites of these incidents when we walked past the scene of the crime—but there was no real story to tell when Allison cancelled class. We just hit the ground running toward Nice for round two of climbing the rock castle and eating ice cream at 96 Flavors. Kaison and Mandy were patient while I got the best deal in France on my mother’s birthday present (she taught me to be a good bargain shopper), and we took a ton of pictures, stood for a long time in front of the waterfall’s mist, and helped some fellow Americans find the best flavors at the ice cream shop (I got Grand Marnier! I love that stuff!)
Was this the night we found the McDonalds in Golfe Juan? Kaison and Tolu and I were walking the beach and saw a “McDonald’s this way” sign, and since I hadn’t lead anyone wrong on the trip thus far we decided to go on a Happy Meal quest. We almost gave up twice, but after one false alarm we did see the red and gold flags and ran screaming through a few intersections to get to the fancy McDonalds not 3 but 25 minutes out of our way. As soon as we stepped back outside with my small Coke and fries it started raining, so we high-tailed it back to gloat about our fast food victory/warn everyone against ever following a McDonalds sign in France again.
Thursday was a fun/weird/emotional last day of class. We finished up a few reviews, including mine on An Old Mistress, but then we got into experience papers. It was such a strange moment, hearing about some of my experiences from another person’s point of view. I was glad to know that we were thinking some of the same things, but when someone would get to a detail that I completely missed I was grateful that my already wonderful memories got that much richer. After we finished up, Allison read her experience paper from her first trip to
Several of us went into
The farewell dinner was spectacular. I was one of the first students to go up to the solarium, and all of us gasped at the view and wondered why we never took all the windows down before. Out on the roof a long, purple-clothed table covered in bread and wine had room for all of us to sit surrounded by friends, and I soon situated myself between some of my favorite people with a plate full of chicken, mini-quiches, and fruit salad (real food!). Reverting back to my typical self I was pretty quiet (hopefully not awkwardly so), enjoying listening to several different conversations and taking in the rooftop scene. Eventually we all got a bit more animated as everyone was taking party pictures and making so much noise one of the residents below us asked us to get off the roof (!). I chatted with Anna Eidsvik and a few others as we moseyed out—will definitely miss her as a movie buddy!—and then most of the students went their ways for the last night of partying. About a dozen of the students and I couldn’t get out on the “4L Challenge” pier because of a guard, but we sat on the rocks right next to it. As usual, one shot of vodka in my Schweppes did not get me even a bit tipsy, but I still had plenty of fun.
I felt “lost” for the first time on Friday. Without the festival or class to give me a bit of structure, I slept in until 11 and was at a loss for anything to do until I met up with Kaison and Tolu for a bit of cooking. We toyed with going to Ventimiglia for a while, but eventually we decided to get a bus out to
I packed, wrote out my belated birthday card for my mom (the one time on the trip, outside of movie theatres, that I cried), and farted around on the internet for the rest of the night. Lots of the kids went out to the rocks even though it looked like rain, and Samantha and I didn’t feel like falling into the Med so we just got Grand Marnier crepes and ice cream. When Lauren and Lindsey cajoled us into venturing out around 11 everyone was coming back in, but then we had plenty of company to go get one last bit of junk food and have a potluck of remaining groceries in Tolu’s and Amanda’s room. We all played some iTunes and I struck up a chorus of “Damn Girl” with my JT CD, but around 12 I went to sleep so I could get up early to shower and finish packing.
Our final morning in
Our plane, originally scheduled to leave at
Customs in JFK were not as awful as I thought they might be, and the flight to the
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