Endnotes: March 11-19, The "Recovery" Week and Rome

Oh my goodness, I meant to publish this MONTHS ago. Sorry! - 2/21/2013

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Okay, so maybe I'm three months late on this (scratch that, over three months late), but anyone who knows me knows my relationship with self-designed deadlines. WHOOPS

If you may recall, or quickly refer to, the Barcelona-Porto "bag weight incident," rather than attempting the previous method of "foldsmallerit'llworkwhyareyoustaringthesearetearsofeventualvictory," I used the one kind attendant on that flight's advice about RyanAir's lack of power over how many clothing items are on my person. That said, here's how I approached our return flight home.

Yes, those are three gigantic winter-weight scarves (two purchased in Barcelona) tied into a triple-loop. The knot made for a great pillow, too. The rest of Sunday was spent unpacking, cleaning, and homeworking.

That following Monday, we got the Castle Cabaret ball rolling with a 8-ish hour meeting, complete with a surprise pile of pizzas from Bonnie's visiting (magical) dad, American Night antics as usual - I forgot what theme it was! Agh. Researching still - and prepping for the weekend in Rome with Erin, Bryan, Katie, and (when meeting times worked) Dad. Step one after checking into our hostel: handmade pizza at the restaurant on the corner. This? This with my water? €2.90. Viva Italia!

Nom.

I also met a very nice Canadian man while in line for my pizza; it's amazing how being in a foreign country can make "you speak English!" a perfectly appropriate ice-breaker. 

PS, just "Older Post"ed my way to the March 14th American Night theme - Swag.

Jeez, we do that every dang day... and from the looks of things, so does the extremely Italian tour guide we had show us around the Vatican City:

She gave us a minute to take pictures while we waited for the 40-odd stragglers to show up.

 

Obligatory tourist shot!

They finally showed up! So then we went...

to the gift shop.

Of course.

 

Sigma just keeps on popping up. <3!

Finally we actually got into the Vatican, after a nearly airport-level security checkpoint. We followed the guide through the museum and into the actual Sistine Chapel (of course, no photos allowed) until she showed us a small door we could sneak through to re-enter the museum. Doing so would drop our tour, so with a bit of deliberation (' "A bit," she chuckled quietly to herself at the desk'), the four of us quietly slipped down the staircase to "the bathroom."

In our defense, there was actually a sign for the bathroom on the door. No, I can't provide proof; pictures were prohibited, remember?

Athena

Strega Nona, always and forever

Inexplicable eyeballs!

And suddenly, Egypt.

St Peter's Basilica

And then something funny occurred. My group had gotten split up after our chucklefest with the Sistine Chapel security, and I wound up at St Peter's Basilica all by my lonesome until we reconvened. As I entered the building, two Japanese boys, maybe high school aged, walked in behind me. Through my peripherals, I noticed that we all simultaneously craned our necks up to look at the amazing view above us, also simultaneously thinking "sugoi." They actually said it, which makes sense considering how 'sugoi' is, in fact, a Japanese word, but for whatever inexplicable linguistic reason, my mind shot to that term before French, Italian, or even English.

Language is a strange thing.

The four of us did eventually meet up, leaving the city and stumbling onto "sexy gelato" (gelato served in either male or female hips-and-below-shaped cones, properly fig-leafed of course), and proceeding on to a steadily inclining 2.5 mile (ish) walk to our next location. No, I did not know where this location was; yes, we were on a weirdly deserted back road; yes, the weather was getting warmer; and no, I was not taking it entirely delicately.

Praise be, we found shelter! Actually, we found a raised park complete with statues, marble busts of famous people, and a burger shack in the middle of a common green reserve.

Resting in the lovely spring air of Italia

Avoiding the angel statues, we wandered around various gigantic structures wrought centuries ago with much coin and labor that now are kind of sinking to the wayside behind street vendors and merchants hollering about sunglasses. Sad. Speaking of Western influences, we even stumbled onto the Roman HQ of Warner Bros. Entertainment later that night! We cleaned up at the Yellow Hostel (ech) before meeting my dad for dinner at a restaurant he took my family to some thirteen years ago. He also somehow convinced my friends to be honest with their appetites, with each of us eventually having completely different and all amazing three-course meals. Once a Hoover Hohenboken, always a Hoover Hohenboken. It's contagious, too.

The Next Day:

A stop by a cute cafe for my morning cappuccino and pastry, a huge line, and finally: the Coliseum! This is us mourning/judging/celebrating our respective imaginary battle turnouts in the middle of modern society.

After grabbing surprisingly tasty truck sandwiches, we spent a good 45 minutes just people-watching from the top of a wall by the Coliseum. For some strange reason, there were kilted men everywhere. We adventured around from there, hitting just about every main Roman location there was: The Roman Forum, the Trevi fountain (twice!), the Pantheon (I took a photo here that made it into the Kasteel magazine! Updates later...), marketplaces, back street paper stores blasting Abba hits, shopping malls, Piazza Navona (complete with a bicycle marathon, of course), the Spanish Steps, the list goes on and on...

We  met up with Dad again that day, again being treated to a magnificent dinner, a deeper education of wine, and being introduced to the bizarre experience of limoncello. Think lemon drop dissolved in nail polish remover. To those who love it, power to you and you have my life's share all for yourselves. You're welcome!

The Last Day:

Start the day right: cappuccino and a inexplicably folded pastry. For lack of a better term, we poked around those few tourist locations we'd missed and parked in a flowery park for a leisurely mid-day nap, then returned to the cafe of the day before for dinner. Thankfully, the incredibly Amurrcan group from the neighboring table left within 15 minutes of our arrival, allowing a full appreciation for our meals in a surprisingly secluded location.

The trek home was (also thankfully) pretty uneventful, and while I love Italy, there's just something about Rome that hasn't quite nestled its way into my heart yet. Maybe it's the vendors, maybe it's how most of the other visitors seem to view the city as a big to-do list, maybe it's the way we have to really grit our teeth and steamroller through to find the original flavor of the city, but I think there's still hope. So far, Roma and I will still be friends, even if nothing more serious ever happens.

Next post (albeit a year late...): Budapest, and updates on my new adventures for this year. Yup, she's back in the saddle and off to a new land yet again! This time, Kazakhstan. Yup, you read me. Central Asia, here I come!

April 20: Two Days Stateside, Awaking To The Dulcet Tones of The Next-Door Construction Site

So here we are again, back in the states. I would've titled this post "In A State of Confusion," but the 4/20 jokes are just too easy. Honestly though, it's a little hard wrapping my head around everything that's happened and realizing that it wasn't actually all one big dream. The construction sounds from next door are just as permeating as ever, so at least some things didn't change.

First up, sorry about the typo on Wednesday - not only is "meetnig" supposed to be "meeting," I wasn't even "meeting" anyone but it was actually just "interacting" but in a tired, warped state. Derp.

As of today, I've been stateside for just over 48 hours. It's a little weird how easily I've fallen into life here, but some things do feel incredibly odd - my bed is gigantic, even the small coffee mugs are too big, being in a car instantly makes me feel out of control, and just being on the other side of the river makes me feel isolated. Granted, the two nights I've had here have been filled with Kasteelan dreams, so just sleeping and waking up surrounds and then removes me of friends: the first, we were all actually at a summer camp instead of just joking about it, and last night we all had our Farewell event at an underground establishment ("U Sudu?") that then turned into a five-story Houses battle with Nerf guns.

Wednesday was, as expected, indescribable. After a solid 10 minute nap, I called goodbyes out the window to Mel and Lucas (they left early) and then somehow managed to haul my two nearly-overweight bags down the stairs, one only on my right shoulder (which is still a little bruised); the kitchen had strawberries at breakfast for once, so that was a veritable Hunger Games on its own. Fully loaded with two wheelie bags, the lulu bag, and a purse, we passed in the keys to our parallel universe and crossed the moat for the last time. The amazing staff - OSA, cleaning, and kitchen - who had taken such good care of us the whole semester had lined the bridge to send us off, accepting teary hugs and wishing us all the best of luck in our endeavors. On the bus, Emily was playing around with her Pooh bear and telling us the story of their first meeting - exhaustion really brings out the best in people, I have to say.

Cozied up in my highly stylish UMD sweatpants, Kasteel Spring 2012 tee, and Amsterdam hoodie, I fell asleep almost immediately after we hit the highway. I'm pretty sure I was the only person without fitted pants (that includes jeans, leggings, and jeggings) and my god did that work in my favor. +2 hours of sleep. Grand total: 2 hours, 10 minutes. Score.

This time, since Robbert and Dojna had picked us up, Johnny and René dropped us off. As such, we stood outside for a good five minutes that we didn't really need to and then didn't quite know what to do regarding self-check in, bag check-in, getting to the other kiosk a few halls away to pay for our extra bags, and then getting back to the group (/whether or not we were even supposed to go to the other group).
Cue rainstorm.

We each hugged René and Johnny, getting words of advice and jokes from our adventures - Johnny had to crouch to my height and I promised René to always sing for the night bus in his honor and we had a short duet in the middle of Schipol Airport, like this sort of thing happens every day. Basically, I was trying to laugh off the fact that I won't see these crazy guys for a very long time. Honestly, something I really regret now is not getting closer with OSA, particularly during some times when I knew I needed someone to talk to about various problems but didn't let myself let anyone in. Frankly, that was selfish - maybe I don't hurt as much now that we're apart, but that's also a team of relationships that I kept up a wall against and essentially just let slip.

But then I said goodbye to Michelle. She was one of my biggest surprises at the Kasteel and from what I can tell I was a pretty big surprise to her too. She was going on a different flight, so we probably won't meet up again until the fall. Honestly, I have no idea what country she's in right now but wherever she is she's making it a blast.

Now then, something funny: as any international traveler knows, you have to go through a passport check before security. We all fell into line, the same physical space as when we went to Madrid but emotionally on a completely different plane, and wound our way up to the desks. Then, my turn.
"Morning."
"Morning!" (don't mind the puffy eyes, sir, my body's kind of got a lot going on today)
"[checking the passport, boarding pass, receipt - stamped!] Okay, have a good day."
"Dankuwel!"
".... HAHAHAHA!"
"Wait no what? What'd I do? I just said thank you! Did we cross into Germany when I wasn't looking?"
The world may never know.

Walking along with a small group, we suddenly realized that we were already at the gates, not security.
I beg your pardon?

Although we initially thought that we had just bypassed security at an international airport (uh...), it came to pass that actually each gate in Schipol had its own security line. Genius in many ways, except that unfortunately there was no duty-free shop on the other side - just chairs, the gateway, and a wonderful bridge that actually - get this - went over the tarmac directly to the plane door. Talk about a novelty.
Fun fact: the security guys at Schipol have a sense of humor. One of the girls had her wand in her carryon and took it out for security. One of the workers picked it up, looked at her, and then... started casting spells.
YES

Piled around each other in a giant mess of snacks, internet, bags, and emotionally exhausted students, we waited for around 10 minutes to start boarding. I felt a weird pull at my thistle necklace while putting my scarf back on but didn't think much of it.
Five minutes later, I realize that I lost it again.
Erin: "Jeez, aren't you the one who keeps losing jewelry?"
"... Yes."
"Didn't you lose that one already?"
"... Yes."
"What superlative did you get, most likely to lose things?"
"No, most likely to pop, lock, and drop it."
"HAHA that one's pretty perfect though. Sorry about your necklace!"
"Well... I mean, I did drop it, so..."
Luckily, someone found it and we were reunited after a short 10 minutes. Yay Delta!

Sticking to our pre-agreed Siesta Fiesta plan, within two minutes after takeoff I was fully reclined and iPoded up with noise-canceling headphones. A great deal of time later, I woke up thinking we had reached Boston.
Nope, four more hours to go, so...
Grand sleeping total: 6 hours, ten minutes.

So then I did what any sane person would do and watched the first two Harry Potter movies. The plane even fed us! We didn't do anything and we all got drinks and a sandwich and ice cream anyway!

Just before landing, we were all frantically brushing our teeth and trying to plan our first meals and witty lines back in the US. We stood around a sweltering customs line in all of the layers we didn't dare pack into already-stuffed bags, explaining that "yes, multiple bags of stroopwafel were totally necessary" to the check-in workers (I said my food was just stroopwafel but completely forgot the pindakaas, nutella, mixed nuts, bag+ of candy, and 14 packets of instant soup also packed. Oops)

Reunited with our bags, we wheeled through another passport check and through the doors I remembered so well from last year, waiting on the other side for Katie's return. The first thing I saw?

Dad's beard.

He and Mom came to pick me up, complete with a bouquet of hot pink tulips. I took another eight minutes running through the crowds hugging people and we got to the car, me waving and singing at people as we went. Back home, first things first: lunch of various salads (<3), then a quick doctor run, unpacking the first bag, and starting on laundry. Dinner at 6pm brought my adventures to a full circle with egg in the hole and bacon, the same I had for breakfast on departing day. Mom ran off for volunteer work, Dad kept me awake until 8pm, then after my first US shower in months I crashed into bed, falling asleep around 9.

At 4:50 I woke up fully rested. The solution: bathroom and go back to sleep.

At 9am (Apr 19), my day started, prepping for a trip into the city for Mom's iPad drama, reunions for me, and lunch at Max Brenner's on Boylston. Suddenly, I could understand the people on the street and not need to get excited about catching bits of English conversations; once I got to the Emerson campus, I kept thinking that any English I heard was from a Kasteel kid right behind me. Nope.
On my way to the EDC, I ran into Emily F from the suite; we talked for a few minutes and let each other get back to our actual trajectories. Life being what it is, a tour group was walking directly beside me as I went into the LB.
"Oh, now this is a cool building!"
Lady, you have no idea.

I saw a black ponytail and pair of glasses peeking out over a computer and then the both of us threw protocol to the wind and dashed forward, colliding into one of the tightest hugs I'll probably ever have. Then I'm just standing there, in the middle of the EDC, with my head in my best friend's shoulder, on the other side of a window from a fairly sizable tour group, and suddenly my breath catches and I'm crying and it's all horribly dramatic but it's also true, and Ally is right next to me returning equipment and we hug too, and I realize now that even though my first year at Emerson was frankly a disaster I wouldn't have gotten any of these people or experiences or knowledge or even turned out the way I have if I hadn't stuck my heels in at this school.

Anyway.
About six bouts of hugs and explanations later I head back to meet up with Mom, as on time as the Hohenboken gene allows, now equipped with a certified Alivan's wand - not kidding - courtesy of Katie. Pat was (hopefully) joking around that I make myself useful and get him a coffee, but as I was already late and not on the clock...

The Asian salad at Brenner's absolutely hit the spot and I got to catch up/trade a few Kasteel stories with Danni while she was working. Cue dinner party plans.

Since I was hanging out with mom, our next stop was shopping, then home to seal 333 envelopes for her volunteer group before a celebratory welcome home/have a safe flight dinner with Dad. My body is still immensely whacked out from the trip and as such I couldn't enjoy the amazing dinner as much as possible, but another 9+ hour rest is getting me re-situated to Boston time.

Now, at 4:25 on April 20th, I'm sitting on the floor of my bedroom with my bed and Fatboy covered in stacks of clothes (unpacked, freshly laundered, reunited, and donation) and a package of stroopwafel at my side. My parents are running around packing for Vegas/Utah and I'm still reeling from the reality of Spring 2012, never mind how independent I'll be for the next stretch of time. There are so many things to do I don't know what to start first.

April 18, Day 90: Heading out with a bang, sob, and zip

So it's 4:15am in de Kasteel, a mere 45 minutes before our departure. My bags are packed, at 47 and 48 pounds each (how did that happen?!), and my carry-on has never been so light - granted, now I know what I actually use on planes instead of all the maybe-stuff I bring just in case. The last fifteen minutes were spent watching Friends and saying goodbyes to Mel and Lucas, the half hour before that a stargazing memory with Emily and Taryn. Today's been a rush since room checks started at 12:30, with a tree planting at 5:15, a magnificent 6pm dinner at Stefan's bed & breakfast "a short walk" up the road, 8pm photo-revealing, 9pm Farewell concert, bidding goodbyes, and back to packing.

First up, the "bang" part:
Last night, Monday April 16th, was our last American Night. Let's just say that it was a night to be remembered by many - YOLO all night with a side of no shame.

Sob:
This is better split into two separate parts: Sob I and Sob II, where Sob I is directly after American Night and Sob II is farewell.

Sob I took me out at the knees from the moment we got back from the Linden. I did get some sleep, but overall it was troubled times for many.

Sob II took the castle by storm primarily during and after our Farewell concert - before the show, everyone was joking that they wouldn't leave etc, but after Farewell everyone seemed absolutely prey to their emotions (myself included).

Zip: fairly self-explanatory. Again, don't know how I got the extra poundage but I have it nonetheless. There have been more people asking on my luggage scale in the last five hours than I thought possible. It's cool meetnig them though!

There really aren't words to explain this place and the effect it really had on me as a person.
That said... Kaseteel Well, you'll be in my heart, now and forever more.

April 13, Day 86: ... Wait I'm sorry what

SERIOUSLY THOUGH

WHEN DID THIS HAPPEN

I'm sitting in my room trying to catch up on uploading photos - I know, there are much more important things to do (like study, write papers, or pack) but eh - and everything hits me. This entire experience is wrapped up in just 90 days. 90. That's it. It's been more of a life education than probably anything I've learned at Emerson so far (no hate, former professors, but actually). True, some of my classes have had off days, but even those have taught me that it's sometimes necessary to, and how to, deal with things that I don't like. There's no way to have not learned something from every moment, good or bad, that I've had.  Maybe I have no idea what this pasta dish is or what that sign means or exactly how far it is from Venlo to Well but I sure will by the time this experience ends and I'll know whether or not I like it. The miles of walking, stumbling, dancing, biking, singing, drinking, chasing, eating, playing, barely sleeping, training, talking, bussing, and flying through Well, Venlo, Amsterdam, Prague, Lucca, Firenze, more Well, Madrid, Barcelona, Porto, Rome, Belgium, a free-range monkey zoo, a little more Amsterdam, and Budapest have left me with friends, pictures, accessories, blisters, memories, and most of all stories. I'm less scared of not knowing where I'm going, but at the same time I feel like I'm heading in an actual direction now.

I don't know. Everyone's getting crazy here, not to mention sick (my body is rebelling with an ingenius multi-ambush strategy: canker sores, sore throat, cold, & blisters). I've been calling it Castle Fever, which it kind of is: stress for finals, not wanting to care about finals, packing, last hurrahs, excitement for home/summer, sad about leaving, Castle Cup battles, the President Pelton visit over the last two days... we're all going absolutely nutty and it's honestly nice to have other people on the Crazy Train. I'm trying to take everything with a grain of salt - I mean, we are Emerson kids, we're all a bit overdramatic - but while this next transition isn't hitting me the way it's been hitting a lot of people, leaving here is going to leave a giant space that I don't know how to fill. Granted, it may never. Just like everywhere I've ever lived, each place has given me something (childhood memories, intercultural experience, realizing that I don't function in certain temperatures, understanding and earning respect of my independence, some of the best friends I'll ever have) and they've taken something away. As it is, I kind of feel like a patchwork quilt constantly being edited and added to. Pieces are lost, caught on edges, ripped, or cut out; pieces are sewn into my identity and while the patterns may fade, it's well-stitched into who I am now.

Anyway, just to try catching up on my travel blogging, let's talk about how much I love Portugal for a minute.

Despite the €50 fee RyanAir threw at me for an "oversized bag" at the gate (meaning they let too many people in with oversize bags and we were at the end of the line), Porto is probably one of my favorite cities this trip. Because I'm lazy, here's a quote from an email I sent my mom back on March 14th (what's a month):


"When we finally got there, Porto was unbelievably perfect and I want to go back forever. The people, the food, the temperature, the city size, the food, the beach, the ice cream, and oh my god Francesinhaaaa also known as the most terrifying but delicious sandwich in existence. Damn that food was good. Would you believe I didn't take a single food picture all break? Bizarre. There was this one steak cut that they don't have in America that even Mom would've loved, although granted it was from the fattiest part of the cow (and thus the most delicious). "

To those who have never experienced the wonder of a Francesinha, it's a meat sandwich (like, 7-8 kinds of meat) between two giant slices of bread, covered in molten cheese, and set in a tomato-beer broth. We were so hungry we all forgot to take photos, but our amazing hostel receptionist, Fabiana, told us about the café down the road with "best sandwich in the world but it's a calorie bomb so be hungry." Not my photo but this was lunch/breakfast that day, sorely needed after a long night and longer morning:

Richard, close your mouth.

After an accidentally long nap, we set out for dinner and meeting the Yes Hostel quartet (Alyssa, Jackie Z, Suzi, and Laura). Between the francesinha and the steak that night my cholesterol levels could've hit the moon, but hopefully the antioxidants in the cinnamon sangria - yes, you read that right - did a number on that. A girl can dream. Their hostel had a pubcrawl going, so despite our exhaustion we tagged along. Prague was better, for many reasons, but our leader was hilarious - when we were leaving the last club at a mere 2something AM, Mel (I think) told her we'd been out until 4:30 that morning in a different country. "What?! You guys are superheroes!"
... I mean, we are though

Everything about the city is perfect. Well, except the part where I can't speak Portuguese, but we finagled around that. And the really steep hills, those weren't fun. Funny later, yes, but at the time, no. We spent Saturday walking around the beach (a perfect beach morning, if I may), then walking around the city, finding towers to climb and Flourish & Blotts to wander around. (Yes, as in the actual film set for F&B. !!!!!) No inside pictures, of course, but I stood where both Tom Felton and Kenneth Branagh stood for the Chamber of Secrets. Yeeee!

I just realized, we probably could've had me pose inside with a photographer outside. 20/20 hind vision...

Saturday night, Mel and Lucas went for a nice dinner in Gaia across the river, and I had a classic Bekka experience of trying to meet up with the other four girls without phone service (meaning I got lost, found myself, and then we just missed each other on their way to give up and just go to dinner and my way to meet up with them for dinner). Oops. The 40-ish hours we spent there were not nearly enough for me and I fully intend to go back sometime in the future. On the flight back, I was having none of RyanAir's sass and tied my three biggest scarves together as the most ridiculous circle scarf anyone's ever worn. What can I say? Looking silly > paying another €50 for a lie.

That said, it's studying/paper-writing time. Onward!

April 2, Day 75: But Actually My Life's Been Like Trying To Hold On To A Torpedo

Sorry guys, I had to do something for April Fool's Day.

Anyway, the last time I updated was from my bed (for the weekend) at Miss Kate's in Belgium. This time I'm updating from my bed at de Kasteel in Oudland. What can I say, I'm a fan of tradition with a spin.

At this point, school is getting into major crunch time. In the next two weeks, I have: papers (2 final papers, a summary, and a response), a presentation, loads of reading, and upcoming exams. Meanwhile, tomorrow night is Castle Cabaret, an activity that has had little to no face time on Kasteel Koffiehuis so far but beyond oodles of attention outside of the internet (not counting facebook for organization, all as well it should be). My life has been a lot more IRL than online lately and while it's been a year since my media fast, the inanity of bumbling around on my favorite websites has lost a lot of its magic.

I'm part of the production team for that, so two weeks ago was an 8pm-3am time span of auditions and casting; now we've whittled it down even more, but it looks even better for it. I'm choreographing one piece (Strongest Suit) officially, which I've just found today is going to be the finale so no pressure there obviously, and directing another piece (Take Me Or Leave Me), which has been a bit more dependent on my leadership than I initially bargained for. That's life though, so why not roll with the punches?

Other than those two behind-the-scenes parts, I'm also performing in When You're Good To Mama as a backup dancer, in Strongest Suit as a backup singer/dancer, and an Avenue Q piece as a (basically) soloist. Things have been a bit busy, but others have it way more stressful - Lane is the overall Director/Producer along with performing in several pieces and Olivia has a 7 minute song to choreograph (along with other performing/directing roles on top of that).

As is it, I just got back from rehearsing WYGTM and SS. It's 1:30 here but I will finish this post.

I know it's been almost a full month now, but back to The Spring Break Tale.

First up, I definitely got some of the details wonky on the last update, but that's what storytime back home is for. Somewhere in this big Spanish mess (I think Sunday) I went flamenco dancing (not just flamenco bar-ing) and had one of the best simple chorizo sandwiches I'll probably ever have.

Monday, March 5

The Trip

After lunch, we went to the bus station to get our tickets ahead of time. Unfortunately, every single ticket was gone. Well, there were four, but Alyssa and her group of (grand total) four got those. With a hodgepodge group of me, Mel, Lucas, Tim, Sean, Najah, and Z, we trekked and searched our way around the various Madrid transport systems until we found an overnight train to Barcelona. Long story short, exhausting but funny (mostly from my inability to speak Spanish). My trio got back to the hotel around 6, helped Tim make sangria for our dinner picnic, then (after I ran for food) the 7 of us talked in the park until 10pm, then shipped out for the train station. We ran into Scott and Candace, settled into the train and as I was lucky enough to land a single seat by the window, I passed out for the next 9 hours of travel. There was definitely some train drama but it barely woke me longer than 5 minutes at a time.

Tuesday, March 6

We found our respective ways to our hostels, ours being a bit infuriating as it was a sister location to the actual checkin, then dumped everything on our beds and found lunch at the sushi place down the road.

Yup, sushi. With noodles. Guess where the owner's from? Brazil. Guess what she speaks? Portuguese.

But I just started learning Spanish AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH


Granted, this helped me get used to Portuguese for the last few days of Spring Break in Portugal, but it was quite a womp moment at first.

We got situated, changed, and headed out for exploring, only to run into Lane, Emily, Alessandra, and Riley on La Rambla; the rest of the day was spent wandering around the harbor, Arc du Triomph, and sitting in a park (with a gorgeous fountain!):

Afterwards, our groups split up so Emily and I could see the Picasso exhibit - we dropped by a scarf shop called Princess on the way, a very good store if I say so myself - and the exhibit was absolutely fantastic. It was mostly his early work, Blue Period, and an entire two/three-room spread of his take on Las Meninas. Emily and I broke off to go freshen up before the night started, and I (for once) made it back on time with no horrific turnarounds on the first try. We found a reasonable restaurant and met up with the huge Hostel One group to go to this big jazz club where some of the people got to just go up and play. Lucas, Mel and I were all tired, so we called it quits fairly early on and crashed asleep in minutes.

Wednesday, March 7th

We woke up relatively late - around 9am - and got ready for our upcoming Walking Tour of Guell.

Let's just say that I have a new favorite person. Well, kind of two, because our tour guide Katarine was fantastic and we spent nearly the whole walk geeking out about structural symbolism and numerology and all of these weird conceptual things that I'm into.

Sagrada Familia Nativity Façade

Crucifixion Façade

 After lunch, we paid the €11 to actually go inside the basilica. Needless to say, it was astonishing.

Inside the Sagrada

What we didn't realize is that the ticket also allows you into an underground museum, with hand-drawn sketches of the Familia, blueprints of its completion, a chart explaining the numerology board on the Crucifixion façade, and Mr. Guell's tomb.

Dinner that night was delicious KFC (last time I said KFC, I meant Burger King), followed by the El Gato Negro rock bar. Said rock bar had a very special drink, a drink that started my night in a very interesting way: The Queen B*tch, a shot of absinthe and tabasco sauce. Lucas suggested it, as it was on the cheaper-shots menu, and frankly I don't suggest it to most people. The bartender was quite amused by our reactions. Next up, Chupitos ("Shots Bar"), with the menu written out on the wall. Our method of picking a drink: close your eyes with your finger on the wall and walk until someone says "stop". I had a very strange selection of drinks: The Bin Laden, [some inappropriate phrase in Spanish], a Harry Potter, and a S'more. One of the house drinks was the Monica Lewinski - that one requires a full storytelling, so I'll save that tale for the curious and brave of heart.

By now, Mel was untired enough to want to go clubbing, but we struck out and wound up walking home for a good 1.5 hours. Creepy stuff happens in Barcelona after 3am.

Thursday, March 8

We woke up a bit better on time and ventured out to see the famous Park Guell. I say famous even though I'd never heard of him or his gardens before. Again, gorgeous:

After lunch, Mel and Lucas went off to the big soccer stadium and I got some time (read: shopping time) to myself. Two scarves (one at an unexpected 30% off) and a set of earrings later, I'm a happy woman.

We went walking - not sure why, anymore - and stumbled onto what we were pretty sure were the clubs the Sushi owner had tipped us off to earlier. That was horrible passive tense, sorry.

Two hours later, we're on the guest list for one of the clubs, my laundry's being washed/a thorn in everyone's sides. Thanks to quick thinking, I made a backup outfit in about three seconds. Thank you, multiple shades of black, how you doin?

We stopped at [The Fairy Forest] on our way out, then walked back to Opium for the night. We didn't even need a cover charge.

While we were at Opium, suddenly there was a guy with a kind of glass violin playing in the middle of the stage. So I dodged into the crowd to see him closer. I met a lot of people that night (some good, some bad), but even though we were out until 4:30am and the drinks are €10 a pop... dancedrunk!

Correct, we did not get home until 4:30. I fell asleep at around 5:00. Up at 7 to get the bus.

Ouch.

April 1, Day 74: Walk Like An Egyptian

Wow, it's been such a rush of activity! I just got back from an amazing weekend in the land of the Pyramids - it was wicked expensive, I almost got run over by a bus and on Friday I had a dash of heat poisoning but all in all what an experience!

But first, a little history:

The Prehistory of Egypt spans the period of earliest human settlement to the beginning of the Early Dynastic Period of Egypt in ca. 3100 BC, starting with King Menes/Narmer.

The Predynastic Period is traditionally equivalent to the Neolithic period, beginning ca. 6000 BC and including the Protodynastic Period (Naqada III).

The dates of the Predynastic period were first defined before widespread archaeological excavation of Egypt took place, and recent finds indicating very gradual Predynastic development have led to controversy over when exactly the Predynastic period ended. Thus, the term "Protodynastic period," sometimes called "Dynasty 0," has been used by scholars to name the part of the period which might be characterized as Predynastic by some and Early Dynastic by others.

The Predynastic period is generally divided into cultural periods, each named after the place where a certain type of Egyptian settlement was first discovered. However, the same gradual development that characterizes the Protodynastic period is present throughout the entire Predynastic period, and individual "cultures" must not be interpreted as separate entities but as largely subjective divisions used to facilitate study of the entire period.

The vast majority of Predynastic archaeological finds have been in Upper Egypt, because the silt of theNile River was more heavily deposited at the Delta region, completely burying most Delta sites long before modern times.^[1]

• Late Paleolithic, from 40th millennium BC
  • Aterian tool-making^[2]
  • Semi-permanent dwellings in Wadi Halfa^[2]
  • Tools made from animal bones, hematite, and other stones^[2]

• Neolithic, from 11th millennium BC
  • c. 10,500 BC: Wild grain harvesting along the Nile, grain-grinding culture creates world's earliest stone sickle blades^[2]
  • c. 8000 BC: Migration of peoples to the Nile, developing a more centralized society and settled agricultural economy
  • c. 7500 BC: Importing animals from Asia to Sahara
  • c. 7000 BC: Agriculture—animal and cereal—in East Sahara
  • c. 7000 BC: in Nabta Playa deep year-round water wells dug, and large organized settlements designed in planned arrangements
  • c. 6000 BC: Rudimentary ships (rowed, single-sailed) depicted in Egyptian rock art
  • c. 5500 BC: Stone-roofed subterranean chambers and other subterranean complexes in Nabta Playa containing buried sacrificed cattle
  • c. 5000 BC: Archaeoastronomical stone megalith in Nabta Playa, world's earliest known astronomy^[51]
  • c. 5000 BC: Badarian; furniture, tableware, models of rectangular houses, pots, dishes, cups, bowls, vases, figurines, combs
  • c. 4400 BC: finely-woven linen fragment^[52]

• Inventing prevalent, from 4th millennium BC
  • By 3400 BC, the world's earliest-known:
    • Cosmetics
    • Donkey domestication
    • (Meteoric) iron works^[53]
    • Mortar (masonry)
  • c. 4000 BC:
    • early Naqadan trade^[54] (see Silk Road)
  • 4th millennium BC: Gerzean tomb-building, including underground rooms and burial of furniture and amulets
  • 4th millennium BC: Cedar imported from Lebanon^[55]
  • c. 3900 BC: An aridification event in the Sahara leads to human migration to the Nile Valley^[56]
  • c. 3500 BC: Lapis lazuli imported from Badakshan and / or Mesopotamia (see Silk Road)
  • c. 3300 BC: Double reed instruments and lyres (see Music of Egypt)
  • c. 3500 BC: Senet, world's oldest-(confirmed) board game
  • c. 3500 BC: Faience, world's earliest-known glazed ceramic beads
  • c. 3200 King Menes banded Upper and Lower Egypt together

[edit]

March 23, Day 65: And Then Suddenly It Was Summertime

There are no two ways around it: this past week has been absolutely gorgeous. I've spent several hours the last few days perched in my windowsill filling out apartment rental documents and reading Canterbury Tales, carefully gathering up what little sun my dainty Irish complexion can handle. Actually, it got a bit too toasty for me on the sill, but then sun just followed me around the room so I gave up and went back to my usual sunbath spot anyway.

The last few days - well, more weeks - have been a complete torpedo of activity, with postponed Spring Break posts, photos to edit, homework to read, sleep to catch up on, trips to plan, finances to document, finances to worry about, drafting a Rome post, unpacking, laundry, Castle Cabaret auditions/production meetings, helping organize the scavenger hunt (honestly not as much as Ali!), packing for Belgium, and finalizing the house for next year.

Wow, I haven't actually looked at the whole to-do list yet. Maybe it's good that I'm considering another weekend at home.

As of now, the big Belgium weekend is finally upon me. There are no words to describe how excited (yet anxious) I'm feeling right now. I looked at the ISB virtual tour and while some things looked familiar, there were a lot of things that seemed very different. Honestly, if I don't see the red cacti in the ECC playground, things are gonna get sassy.

Concerning Spring Break, I paused the tape way back at the end of the first day of Madrid. I'm going to rewind my life back to then, hit play, kind of fast forward to now, and just generally complicate this VHS metaphor. Aaand... <<

(Pause for Scavenger Hunt, dressup and 80's themed American Night)
Oh wait, now it's 3am. Oops!

Anyway, Saturday morning in Madrid, 3/3/12, our plans said to go to some museum around the city and be guided through with a teacher or two. However, at the last minute our professors decided to switch things up and go to the higher quality museum, so there we went - only to find out that voices above whispering level are not permitted in the museum.

Hmm.

A class lecture about art in an art museum that doesn't allow speech?

Hmm indeed.

We finagled our way through that little loophole by studying pictures and discussing them in the stairwell with Dulcia and Dojna as our chaperones. Honestly, I'd give my right arm for those two to chaperone my group through the Sistine Chapel, if not a whole leg along with it.

Lunchtime was a mixture of emotional tension, oblivion, and ignorance on several parties' part, but we found a good place with €2 sandwiches, so that at least worked well. Unfortunately, lunch was both preceded and followed by various argumentative and biased two-person discussions that I hadn't been interested in joining to begin with; that particularly tense episode was followed with some chocolate-dipped churro and yet another Loading of the Buses.

With that, we drove to a monastery about 45 minutes from the center of Madrid, perched at the top of a small village. For some unknown reason, said village had a surprising American twist - as Chris B said, "Hey guys, we could've stayed in a Best Western!"
"Oh, so is today the day we just say whatever stupid sh** pops into our head? Hey guys, I could punch that baby! Hey guys, I could kill Mel! Hey guys, I could cut Bekka's face off!"

...Let's just say that Emily was a bit fed up with the various tidbits Captain Obvious had thrown around throughout the day.

Monastery/religious "retreat" for some Hapsburg King

The monastery itself was gorgeous but all in all a bit time-consumptive for me, as I was stressing about getting back to the city in time for the required 20th Cent. Art Music concert. There was really no need to stress, as Lucy reminded me, but honestly there were a few interpersonal things upsetting me that were best expressed through general stress. It happens. We got back a bit ahead of schedule anyway, so I got more dressed up and then found  the promised land a block away from our hostel. The promised land, for those who don't know me, refers to that magical, caffeinated land of Starbucks. Mocha frapp yes please.

Taryn, Emily, Jen, and I figured out the location of the concert hall; despite all of my time worries, we were the first of our group there and a good half hour early. I know, rare for me, but it was also nice to get a bit of chill time. The evening followed a very interesting concert. One of the pieces had a cello solo that was kind of like listening to free-association cello thought; it was very experimental and weird but I actually loved it. The whole thing ended with Firebird, which was of course magnificent, but the conductor's shirt had come untucked during the night and was frequently showing off his rather corpulent figure. A bit distracting, honestly.

Later that night, I wound up having KFC for dinner (horrible I know but it was so good), and then we went out to one of the biggest clubs I'll probably ever be in - Discotheque Kapital, 7 stories tall with a different atmosphere/music selection on each floor. Again, my favorites were the hiphop and radio hits floor, but I met someone out on the hiphop floor who seemed to take a liking to me. Then... well, my history professor said the day before leaving, "One rule about Spain: Don't kiss Fascists."
So, while I and this Madridian Whomever were dancing, I stepped back for a second and...
"Wait. Are you a fascist?"
"Uh uh uh"
"... Sorry, I need to go."

Granted, it was also 4:30 and we had a wakeup call at 8. Yeesh. Chris, Emily C., and I went to grab our coats from the checking counter, only to find that the Florentine scarf I'd stuffed down a coat arm had vanished. Chris ethpañoled into the bouncer's good humor, but the counter-ladies' two checks around the coat room yielded nothing.

Sigh. -1 accessory.

If Kapital was one of the biggest clubs I'll ever be in, the next morning is probably one of the hardest ones I'll ever have (although the last night in Barcelona can definitely match it). We were again tromping through a museum, but this time our chaperone (again Pieter) was actually familiar with the work. It was pretty fantastic, not to mention how I have a whole new respect for museums after my basic art classes in high school. We saw the Garden of Earthly Delights, among many others, and while at first it was gorgeous by the fifteenth minute the Hellish scenes were even making me a bit queasy.

After the museum, Lane, Emily, Alessandra and I went off in search of food - no seafood, for Emily, which was a little tricky in Spain - and eventually found a small place with surprisingly good and filling food. We're not sure what drink Lane ordered though; she asked for a white wine and got what we're pretty sure was a shot of sherry. Oops. Dessert was another Starbucks trip, where again the barista completely botched my name:

Bilanca, I mean honestly

 We all reconvened for the next activity, only to find that both it and the next morning's activity had been scratched. Welp, gelato-in-the-square time it is then!

 I had a glorious two-hour nap, and that night the ALEMLB group struck out in search of tapas and mojitos. We found a great place around the corner from the hotels and chatted until closing time; the bartender, who seemed to like us, gave us shots on the house of some Baileys-ish drink, served with whipped cream and supposedly drunk through a straw. We didn't know that last bit until later. Oops.

Honestly, I should just rename this my "Oops" Semester, because honestly "oops"s are happening a lot more often than "living at the castle" seems to be going.

The Duke toured us around the giant Madrid park, stopping only to watch Scott squirrel-whisper, buy us ice cream, and let us all go wild on the playground.

Entrance to the park

Obviously we are all very mature

Lunch was paella and pain au chocolat avec chocolat here

We all mobbed the Mercado for lunch and all in all it was lovely (for almost everybody), but things got more dramatic when we went to "grab the bus tickets before shopping." That's an epic tale in itself and practically deserves its own movie, let alone blog post, but for now I'll wrap up and at least pretend to do some homework before passing out. By now I'm two weeks ahead of Madrid and comfortably in Miss Kate's house post-wolfing around with a Hug Mug full of tea, so staying up won't be for long.

Until then, bon nuit, buona sera, and buenas noches!
-B