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.
Friday, April 20, 2012
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
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.
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.
Friday, April 13, 2012
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:
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!
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. |
... 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!
Sunday, April 1, 2012
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!):
After lunch, we paid the €11 to actually go inside the basilica. Needless to say, it was astonishing.
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:
Correct, we did not get home until 4:30. I fell asleep at around 5:00. Up at 7 to get the bus.
Ouch.
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 |
 |
| Inside the Sagrada |
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:
[edit]
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
- 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:
- 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
- By 3400 BC, the world's earliest-known:
[edit]
Friday, March 23, 2012
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.
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:
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.
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
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.
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 |
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 |
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
Thursday, March 15, 2012
March 15 (Day 57): I Gots A Lotta Esplain' To Do
So first off, I really wanted to update this the night before we left for Madrid with thoughts like "I wonder what Spain will be like" "hopefully the travel will go well" "I'm nervous for the new culture but really excited" "I missed the sun, this should be nice" and "wish me luck getting up at 4am, oh god"
but then there was a jazz show and I took a few extra hours to pack so that didn't really work out. (OOPS)
As of today, it's been a mere 13 days since that fateful morning call and it feels bizarrely normal just to be sitting back on my bed after experiencing so many different things. Obviously my culture shock was not quite that of the 12-person group who ventured off to Morocco, but the Iberian Peninsula was plenty unusual for me this time around.
While there are far more accurate words to describe my packing experience, for now I'll settled on these: unnecessarily complicated, unnecessarily stressful, and (as it turned out) partially unnecessary. I almost made the mistake of bringing three dresses; the two I brought were more than enough, and the two pairs of pants were only really good for traveling. Even then, just one would've been fine. #learningexperience
Getting to Madrid was fairly uneventful, mostly because I slept for nearly the entire bus ride, but we got to the airport an hourish early and meandered around the front area, blearily sipping at coffee or hot chocolate until the meeting time. Apparently there was a Starbucks that I had no idea was there, but I keep leaving my *$s card in my desk so no lattés for this diva :c I wound up visiting a Starbucks in Madrid and Barcelona and having to pay real money - NOT making that mistake in Rome! Seriously, what's one little piece of plastic in a whole bag? Trust me, the gold paint does not add any weight whatsoever, it's totally worth it
The plane ride was a series of naps interspersed with chatting around with surrounding students and generally ignoring the three Dutch ladies beside/behind me, all of whom were equally as blonde, bespectacled, and excitedly exhausted as I was that morning. Alyssa turned around at one point to comment on some joke or another, but instead of her planned retort whispered "BEKKA. YOU LOOK LIKE A FAMILY."
We actually kind of did though
Part of the discussion during the inexplicably long descent (seriously, they had us shut our stuff down to "prepare for landing" and then a good 35 minutes later we finally hit the ground. Come on, EasyJet, I mean really) consisted of me passing around my blue glasses because apparently seven different people wanted to try them on "because they're square blue glasses!" Twenty house points to 12 year old Larisa for picking those out; you have single-handedly made me more interesting to tired classmates.
On the way to our hotels, yes hotels no s in the middle thank you very much, Maria - a fellow MCR and crazy-hair-color fan, although she actually has the pink/purple hair that I have since foregone - talked life stories, trip plans, blogging, and whiskey sours. The buses actually dropped us off on the wrong side of our square, so we were all frantically padlocking our bags outside the buses and watching each others' backs going down the square.
We were split into two hotels and didn't actually know who had which building/room until arrival: all of the boys were in the first hotel, closer to the Plaza del Sol, with some of the girls in that building as well. The way they split it up was pretty inexplicable, but I was in the second hotel closer to our meeting-place square with Mel, Alessandra, and Najah.
POP QUIZ!
Once we all bottlenecked and shuffled our ways into the bag storage room, the first activity on the Madrid list was:
a. Bathe
b. Nap
c. Eat
d. Multi-hour walking tour
Thankfully, the answer was C. Lucas led the way to and through a surprisingly filling lunch of tapas and delicious beer, but I surprisingly do not have a picture of it.
Actually that's not surprising at all, because we were all cranky and ravenous, but still. Minus ten foodie points.
Lunch was spicy potatos, garlic shrimp, and cured ham. At some point a bread basket landed on the table and you'd honestly have thought we were vultures.
The walking tour, led by Pieter of the Rijksmuseum, proved remarkably less inspiring than the Amsterdam tour - granted, that was Chester Lee, and nobody can best Chester Lee. At anything. The city is beautiful though! We saw a lot of gorgeous buildings in a very even temperature (finallyyyy), stopped in a square filled with terrifying squeaky-voiced Mickey/Minnie Mouses, fake baby carriages complete with screaming babies, and bizarre goat/yak/nightmare creatures that clacked their mouths as we passed.
Then, they finally let us into our rooms.
So.
Here comes the fun.
My phone had started roaming from the minute we landed in Spain, so I'd very cleverly turned it off. Then, a few hours later, I went to turn it back on. This delightful little piece of machinery requires a PIN to log into.
First try: nope.
Second try: nope.
Third try: nope PIN BLOCKED INPUT PUK NUMBER
.... "well that's just bloody brilliant now isn't it"
My PUK number lives under my bed. My bed in the castle. At this point, a castle with multiple countries between itself and I.
PERFECT.
That night, Mel, Lucas, Chris and I went out for dinner - no free food this time, boo - and I had my first McDonald's of the semester.
Obviously no pictures for this one. (shaaaaame)
That night was Lars's birthday, so we all scattered our way around Madrid to eventually meet up in a flamenco bar. The bar was actually having a show when my group (Lucas, Thea, Jacquie, Mel, Erin, Emily, and myself) showed up, so we scooted back up the road dodging drunk singing men to a little bar. A mojito later (which absolutely paled in comparison to the U Sudu potion), we tried the flamenco bar again.
Bouncer: "Are you all over 18?"
Lucas: "Yes."
Bouncer: "Okay go in"
Lucas: "................... he didn't ask for ID. I LOVE SPAIN!"
There was very little actual flamenco dancing going on, more like yet another Emerson nightlife invasion, but the sangria was good and we all had a fun (but not completely exhausting, for once) night out.
SO before anyone gets their knickers in a twist about the other 9 days of my break, I promise - updates are on the way. However, now I have Monkey Ethics until 4:15, a taxi ride from 4:16 to 5ish, and a flight to catch for Rome. It's never a boring life here, that's for sure!
In the next installments:
The rest of Madrid, including the museum tour with Dulcia (!!!!!) and Club Kapitol
The Epic Commute to Barcelona
Barcelona from Tuesday morning to Friday morning
The Separate but Equally Epic Commute to Porto
Porto, Portugal and all of its perfections, plus some imperfections
and
Rome!
...Ay dios mio that's a lot of writing to do.
but then there was a jazz show and I took a few extra hours to pack so that didn't really work out. (OOPS)
As of today, it's been a mere 13 days since that fateful morning call and it feels bizarrely normal just to be sitting back on my bed after experiencing so many different things. Obviously my culture shock was not quite that of the 12-person group who ventured off to Morocco, but the Iberian Peninsula was plenty unusual for me this time around.
While there are far more accurate words to describe my packing experience, for now I'll settled on these: unnecessarily complicated, unnecessarily stressful, and (as it turned out) partially unnecessary. I almost made the mistake of bringing three dresses; the two I brought were more than enough, and the two pairs of pants were only really good for traveling. Even then, just one would've been fine. #learningexperience
Getting to Madrid was fairly uneventful, mostly because I slept for nearly the entire bus ride, but we got to the airport an hourish early and meandered around the front area, blearily sipping at coffee or hot chocolate until the meeting time. Apparently there was a Starbucks that I had no idea was there, but I keep leaving my *$s card in my desk so no lattés for this diva :c I wound up visiting a Starbucks in Madrid and Barcelona and having to pay real money - NOT making that mistake in Rome! Seriously, what's one little piece of plastic in a whole bag? Trust me, the gold paint does not add any weight whatsoever, it's totally worth it
The plane ride was a series of naps interspersed with chatting around with surrounding students and generally ignoring the three Dutch ladies beside/behind me, all of whom were equally as blonde, bespectacled, and excitedly exhausted as I was that morning. Alyssa turned around at one point to comment on some joke or another, but instead of her planned retort whispered "BEKKA. YOU LOOK LIKE A FAMILY."
We actually kind of did though
Part of the discussion during the inexplicably long descent (seriously, they had us shut our stuff down to "prepare for landing" and then a good 35 minutes later we finally hit the ground. Come on, EasyJet, I mean really) consisted of me passing around my blue glasses because apparently seven different people wanted to try them on "because they're square blue glasses!" Twenty house points to 12 year old Larisa for picking those out; you have single-handedly made me more interesting to tired classmates.
On the way to our hotels, yes hotels no s in the middle thank you very much, Maria - a fellow MCR and crazy-hair-color fan, although she actually has the pink/purple hair that I have since foregone - talked life stories, trip plans, blogging, and whiskey sours. The buses actually dropped us off on the wrong side of our square, so we were all frantically padlocking our bags outside the buses and watching each others' backs going down the square.
We were split into two hotels and didn't actually know who had which building/room until arrival: all of the boys were in the first hotel, closer to the Plaza del Sol, with some of the girls in that building as well. The way they split it up was pretty inexplicable, but I was in the second hotel closer to our meeting-place square with Mel, Alessandra, and Najah.
POP QUIZ!
Once we all bottlenecked and shuffled our ways into the bag storage room, the first activity on the Madrid list was:
a. Bathe
b. Nap
c. Eat
d. Multi-hour walking tour
Thankfully, the answer was C. Lucas led the way to and through a surprisingly filling lunch of tapas and delicious beer, but I surprisingly do not have a picture of it.
Actually that's not surprising at all, because we were all cranky and ravenous, but still. Minus ten foodie points.
Lunch was spicy potatos, garlic shrimp, and cured ham. At some point a bread basket landed on the table and you'd honestly have thought we were vultures.
The walking tour, led by Pieter of the Rijksmuseum, proved remarkably less inspiring than the Amsterdam tour - granted, that was Chester Lee, and nobody can best Chester Lee. At anything. The city is beautiful though! We saw a lot of gorgeous buildings in a very even temperature (finallyyyy), stopped in a square filled with terrifying squeaky-voiced Mickey/Minnie Mouses, fake baby carriages complete with screaming babies, and bizarre goat/yak/nightmare creatures that clacked their mouths as we passed.
Then, they finally let us into our rooms.
So.
Here comes the fun.
My phone had started roaming from the minute we landed in Spain, so I'd very cleverly turned it off. Then, a few hours later, I went to turn it back on. This delightful little piece of machinery requires a PIN to log into.
First try: nope.
Second try: nope.
Third try: nope PIN BLOCKED INPUT PUK NUMBER
.... "well that's just bloody brilliant now isn't it"
My PUK number lives under my bed. My bed in the castle. At this point, a castle with multiple countries between itself and I.
PERFECT.
That night, Mel, Lucas, Chris and I went out for dinner - no free food this time, boo - and I had my first McDonald's of the semester.
Obviously no pictures for this one. (shaaaaame)
That night was Lars's birthday, so we all scattered our way around Madrid to eventually meet up in a flamenco bar. The bar was actually having a show when my group (Lucas, Thea, Jacquie, Mel, Erin, Emily, and myself) showed up, so we scooted back up the road dodging drunk singing men to a little bar. A mojito later (which absolutely paled in comparison to the U Sudu potion), we tried the flamenco bar again.
Bouncer: "Are you all over 18?"
Lucas: "Yes."
Bouncer: "Okay go in"
Lucas: "................... he didn't ask for ID. I LOVE SPAIN!"
There was very little actual flamenco dancing going on, more like yet another Emerson nightlife invasion, but the sangria was good and we all had a fun (but not completely exhausting, for once) night out.
SO before anyone gets their knickers in a twist about the other 9 days of my break, I promise - updates are on the way. However, now I have Monkey Ethics until 4:15, a taxi ride from 4:16 to 5ish, and a flight to catch for Rome. It's never a boring life here, that's for sure!
In the next installments:
The rest of Madrid, including the museum tour with Dulcia (!!!!!) and Club Kapitol
The Epic Commute to Barcelona
Barcelona from Tuesday morning to Friday morning
The Separate but Equally Epic Commute to Porto
Porto, Portugal and all of its perfections, plus some imperfections
and
Rome!
...Ay dios mio that's a lot of writing to do.
Monday, February 27, 2012
[lyrics to every song including the word "Hello"]
So apparently I have a bit of a growing readership on my hands... Well, hi everyone! I'm really glad you seem to be enjoying my EuroJournal; at least, I assume you're enjoying it, as I haven't heard anything to the contrary.
This isn't another epic post, mostly because I need to focus my "giant chunk of writings!" skills on a couple of papers for tomorrow rather than documenting my sleeping/vegging/studying weekend. I just wanted to say hi, thank you, and I hope you have fun reading!
-Bekka
This isn't another epic post, mostly because I need to focus my "giant chunk of writings!" skills on a couple of papers for tomorrow rather than documenting my sleeping/vegging/studying weekend. I just wanted to say hi, thank you, and I hope you have fun reading!
-Bekka
Saturday, February 25, 2012
February 25 (Day 38): Recovering Post-Carnival with Makeup Remover, Cough Drops, and Hopefully A Return Trip to the Thermal Baths
carnival |ˈkärnəvəl|
noun
1. a period of public revelry at a regular time each year, typically during the week before Lent in Roman Catholic countries, involving processions, music, dancing, and the use of masquerade
2. That week where Bekka's face was pretty much anything except necessarily a face.
Not kidding. The whole point is "put disguising things on, then go run around being absolutely nutty in the middle of the day but it's awesome because nobody actually can say for certain if it was you" and let's just say the Castle kids complied. (Well, mostly.) So much for my "recovery weekend" being last week...
I realize it's been another week-plus-long hiatus but things have been getting crazy around here; Carnaval kicked all of us directly and repeatedly in the shins with cleats, midterms are next week, the Madrid excursion/Free Travel Week is directly after that, and on top of everything I woke up this past Wednesday, of course the day after the festivities ended, with a horrible cold or something that's finally heading out now. It's been a double-healing kind of week, so I'm actually glad I didn't book a trip for this weekend, as it would have probably been miserable for me and equally miserable for my travelmates to deal with someone trying to flit about Europe with a box of tissues in one hand and tea in the other.
So first things first: Last Monday, Feb 13th. What on Earth could I be doing that far in the past, you ask? Well, it has something to do with last Saturday, and with the upcoming Madrid/Barcelona/Oporto week. Fun fact about Monday: I ordered my first package to the Castle, two bathing suits to pick from because I was a complete space cadet while packing and didn't bring a swimsuit! They were expecting the delivery by Friday, one day before a group of us - the group who didn't want to get daydrunk in Venlo - went to the thermal bathhouse in Arcen. Perfect, right?
LIES.
On Friday:
8am: Wake up, hear Dusseldorf is cancelled due to 75% group illness.
12pm-10: Wake up again. Walk around Well, see a lot of closed shops, realize Jaq makes around €700 just on us every Wednesday, get groceries, order my first Kasteel pizza, watch Tangled.
11pm: Go to the Linden on a non-American Night night and see what happens*. *Elderly gentlemen playing billiards and a corner of Americans hanging out
On Saturday, the schedule went something like this:
10:45, I check at OSA if my package has arrived and maybe hasn't been properly archived yet - meet with disappointment.
11:00, our group leaves for my favorite place in The Netherlands, Klein Vink. Everyone understands why I started walking after 20 minutes of waiting last time.
11:40, we get a group discount for entry and I scour the 50%-off rack for anything that could possibly work - at first meet again with disappointment, then settle on the first reasonably designed and priced option available.
At 12, I finally get into the locker rooms - actual rooms, kind of like spacious bathroom stalls without the toilets, with lockers on the side that are thankfully easier to finagle with than the Amsterdam train station lockers.
Around 2:30ish, I resist the urge to follow the crowd into the 1. nude (manageable) 2. mixed (not so manageable) sauna and instead head into the most intense shower stall sauna I will probably ever be in, with beyond-boiling eucalyptus steam replacing all air with cough syrup water droplets for fifteen minutes of calming (but slightly painful) solitude. While my skin was the softest it's been in ages, I'm certain, without a shadow of doubt, that horrible people are reincarnated as lobsters. (Honestly, it would suck to be a lobster. Religion hates on you and then you're boiled alive to be cracked open and eaten with butter. Think about it, Mainahs.)
The rest of the day was hanging out watching How To Train Your Dragon and prepping my prop for the parade (say that 5 times fast), and pulling an insane Carnaval costume out of my existing, clean, normal clothes for deBuun's party at 9:30.
I honestly don't know what name, if any, my costume would have, so I'm just calling it Ms. Match the Broken Doll, because when in doubt, make your eyes look ridiculous, put up pigtails, blink at people a lot, and just go as a doll. (Yes, I wore my gold shoes again.)
The costume tonight: black skirt, black tank top, black tights, black boots, classic pinup makeup (complete with filled-in eyebrows, and man that looked weird), and my bathrobe.
Yes, my bathrobe. (I was out of ideas! Also clean clothes.)
Some of the people I went with:
Eventually I had to check my bathrobe, as deBuun got way too toasty for full sleeves, and wound up running into the bartender from last night. Minus the extra layer, life suddenly got far more manageable - until the music trailed off around 2am, and we all had to leave. It sounds like the student trajectories were not necessarily straight back to the castle, as there were rumors of afterparties floating around, not to mention several blooming international relationships. (Ooh lala!) I got home without incident and slept through to lunch, sorely needed after all the insanity.
Monday after class, I took a bike ride along the parade route to try scouting out where my necklace could have dropped, but again - no luck. "Okay, maybe EUOR will have something that could work in the meantime? I need tissues anyway..."
Oh look. All the stores are closed. BRILLIANT.
In my defeat, I pedal solemnly back to OSA for more laundry tokens - only to find that not only did Dojna have plenty more laundry tokens, she also had my necklace! Apparently it fell off Sunday morning during breakfast and had been sitting in the dining room until Monday afternoon.
Monday night was the Light Parade in New Well, complete with fireworks off deBuun, freezing temperatures, lit-up floats (a lot of which poked fun at Greece's situation, but political jokes are expected for Carnivale)...
... not to mention the bratwurst stand. (Yesssss)
Tuesday was hectic, as usual for me, but when we arrived at deBuun for the 2:30 Ethics class we stumbled into the Daytime section of Carnival.
Yes, it was still going. At 2:30 PM. WHAT
Class continued (of course) despite several interruptions by curious (and costumed) elementary school boys and from Spice Girls blasting through the floor, both of which severely inhibited focus on the chimpanzees.
Tuesday night was the Burning of the Bird in New Well, symbolizing the end of Carnivale and the beginning of Lent.
Wednesday morning hit me like a truck with yet another cold, just in time for 90's themed American Night - or rather, so we thought. Turns out the Ash Wednesday tradition around here is to go to the Linden to peel and eat herrings.
From 7-12pm.
Let's just say American Night was a bit of a bust this week but at least we all looked slammin'.
Since Wednesday, it's been a constant push towards midterms, planning our Free Travel Week (I'm going to stay in Madrid an extra day, then go to Barcelona and Oporto (in Portugal) with Mel and Lucas), and in my case fend off the sickness. I finally got a chance to go to yoga practice on Thursday, buy tea, honey, soup and various sources of Vitamin C, and wash my sheets; I woke up today feeling miles better, so hopefully I've jumped onto a one-way train to health. Skyping with Mom & Dad was a little painful though, mostly because I look horrific today - so actually, when my video feed cut out, it kind of worked. I could see them, they couldn't see me, so blowing my nose right in front of the screen wasn't an issue.
WHOO epic post.
Anyway, if you're still reading this (Mom), yes I just got your fb message. I think you'll have put off the vacuuming for a bit more than "a few minutes" by now. If this delay caused any sneeze fits, I'm sorry.
noun
1. a period of public revelry at a regular time each year, typically during the week before Lent in Roman Catholic countries, involving processions, music, dancing, and the use of masquerade
2. That week where Bekka's face was pretty much anything except necessarily a face.
Not kidding. The whole point is "put disguising things on, then go run around being absolutely nutty in the middle of the day but it's awesome because nobody actually can say for certain if it was you" and let's just say the Castle kids complied. (Well, mostly.) So much for my "recovery weekend" being last week...
I realize it's been another week-plus-long hiatus but things have been getting crazy around here; Carnaval kicked all of us directly and repeatedly in the shins with cleats, midterms are next week, the Madrid excursion/Free Travel Week is directly after that, and on top of everything I woke up this past Wednesday, of course the day after the festivities ended, with a horrible cold or something that's finally heading out now. It's been a double-healing kind of week, so I'm actually glad I didn't book a trip for this weekend, as it would have probably been miserable for me and equally miserable for my travelmates to deal with someone trying to flit about Europe with a box of tissues in one hand and tea in the other.
So first things first: Last Monday, Feb 13th. What on Earth could I be doing that far in the past, you ask? Well, it has something to do with last Saturday, and with the upcoming Madrid/Barcelona/Oporto week. Fun fact about Monday: I ordered my first package to the Castle, two bathing suits to pick from because I was a complete space cadet while packing and didn't bring a swimsuit! They were expecting the delivery by Friday, one day before a group of us - the group who didn't want to get daydrunk in Venlo - went to the thermal bathhouse in Arcen. Perfect, right?
LIES.
On Friday:
8am: Wake up, hear Dusseldorf is cancelled due to 75% group illness.
12pm-10: Wake up again. Walk around Well, see a lot of closed shops, realize Jaq makes around €700 just on us every Wednesday, get groceries, order my first Kasteel pizza, watch Tangled.
11pm: Go to the Linden on a non-American Night night and see what happens*. *Elderly gentlemen playing billiards and a corner of Americans hanging out
On Saturday, the schedule went something like this:
10:45, I check at OSA if my package has arrived and maybe hasn't been properly archived yet - meet with disappointment.
11:00, our group leaves for my favorite place in The Netherlands, Klein Vink. Everyone understands why I started walking after 20 minutes of waiting last time.
11:40, we get a group discount for entry and I scour the 50%-off rack for anything that could possibly work - at first meet again with disappointment, then settle on the first reasonably designed and priced option available.
At 12, I finally get into the locker rooms - actual rooms, kind of like spacious bathroom stalls without the toilets, with lockers on the side that are thankfully easier to finagle with than the Amsterdam train station lockers.
Around 2:30ish, I resist the urge to follow the crowd into the 1. nude (manageable) 2. mixed (not so manageable) sauna and instead head into the most intense shower stall sauna I will probably ever be in, with beyond-boiling eucalyptus steam replacing all air with cough syrup water droplets for fifteen minutes of calming (but slightly painful) solitude. While my skin was the softest it's been in ages, I'm certain, without a shadow of doubt, that horrible people are reincarnated as lobsters. (Honestly, it would suck to be a lobster. Religion hates on you and then you're boiled alive to be cracked open and eaten with butter. Think about it, Mainahs.)
The rest of the day was hanging out watching How To Train Your Dragon and prepping my prop for the parade (say that 5 times fast), and pulling an insane Carnaval costume out of my existing, clean, normal clothes for deBuun's party at 9:30.
 |
| We realized later that I probably should've been in front of a plain background instead of Emily's open wardrobe. Oops. |
This "costume" consists of: my brightest tank top, my brightest cardigans (strategically intertwined, don't ask how I did it because I'm honestly not sure), the new spring skort, multiple necklaces, multicolored hair elastics, and all of my favorite eyeshadow colors at the same time. The only part of this outfit that I would not normally wear on its own: the pigtails. At least, not at that height.
 |
| Ms. Match and the French Pirate |
Saturday night was the first time I saw the Dutch going harder than us on American Night, and we... we have been put to shame. The Beerfloor situation was so epic I could hardly lift my feet at times, there were feathers and glitter flying everywhere, literally everyone was hollering along with the Dutch songs (regardless of lyric understanding), and the bartender even teased me when I downgraded from a Disaronno and [whatever cherry-flavored liqueur he'd put in instead of the cranberry juice I'd asked for] to a small beer when it got too hot to be in the dance room.
All in all, a very good night.
Sunday hit us all square in the face the next morning, but by no means were the Dutch done with us. After breakfast, we reorganized to paint each others' faces for the parade. Our theme was "Around Europe in 90 Days," where each of us dressed up as a different European country's stereotype and walked the three-mile parade tour through Well.
 |
| Belgium, or as Talia guessed, "the trash of Germany?" |
Yes, those are Chokotoff and Côte D'or wrappers on my shirt. (Yes again to the gold shoes.)
We walked as a group of near 50 people to the far reaches of Old Well and waited for the call to walk, huddling and dancing for warmth. Why so drastic? Well, the moment we turned into the driveway, literally as my feet were crossing the threshold, the beautiful sunlight we'd been walking through tagged in a sudden hailstorm.
 |
| Represented here: Greece, Belgium, France, Italy, and two Scotlands |
EUROPE WHAT
I was very glad that my Belgian Waffle prop could also serve as an umbrella. However, it is now toast. (No pun intended, but seriously that cardboard is ruined)
We started walking at 2:11 (11 is the number of Fools), followed shortly by the sun making an appearance. We sang our way through Old Well, picking various strains of various songs until we forgot the words, trailed off, and waited for the next person to fling a new melody into the crowd. A good portion of us (myself included) dropped out at the Kasteel station where Dojna and Dulcia were handing out free hot dogs to the paraders; we spent the next hour or so actually seeing the crazy people we kept hearing, dodging spinning floats and waving to everybody. Jacqui, in a highly colorful Flamenco dress on loan from OSA because they seem to just have things like that floating around, was the unspoken Hot Dog Girl/Savior of the Day - she'd somehow skip down the road with a fully loaded tray, pass up said tray to a 10-foot-high platform, then dance back for refills and never seemed to get tired. The only time she dropped one was when a group of boys biking around in bunny suits tried to grab food on the go and missed.
Meanwhile, the Dutch boys from the Linden were lighting up a gigantic joint behind us and inviting everyone to hang out, but as I honestly prefer being able to feel my toes over getting completely blazed in mid-February hail flurries with Dutch high schoolers dressed as giant neon bunnies, I went inside and spent twenty minutes washing my face. Priorities, people.
I was sitting down to tape my next video for the 1114ers when I realized something was amiss - the thistle necklace I'd gotten in Edinburgh during the 2008 Fringe Festival was nowhere to be found. I looked around my room, the hallway, the castle grounds, but after a fruitless search Facebook was notified. Thankfully it doesn't hold much sentimental value, so unlike the frenzied search for Margo's bracelet, I sighed, hoped it'd turn up, and perused Etsy for a pendant that would actually mean something other than "I'm pretty and (assumedly) of Scottish heritage!"
Sunday night, or Dutch Rager Part Two
For the hour or so before our next deBuun party started up, my room suddenly transformed from "single bedroom" to "public makeup station" - in the course of one night, my room hosted: 1. a sea witch (Emily), 2. A butterfly (Mel, who did her own makeup but used mine to great effect), 3. France, 4. Brazil, I guess, although Lucas didn't actually do much, 5. A zebra, 6. A marionette, and 7. A pinup/porcelain doll (when I finally remembered that I might need a costume too).
 |
| Erin the Marionette and I in her room |
Yes, my bathrobe. (I was out of ideas! Also clean clothes.)
Some of the people I went with:
 |
| Sarah as some sort of fae and Taryn the Zebra |
The party tonight was pretty different from last night, primarily because there were awards given out for the best floats, and also because the bartenders had switched shifts so the atmosphere was quite different. It was still fantastic, not to mention that almost everyone who'd traveled had gotten back during or right after the parade - we all wound up screaming the English lyrics along to a Dutch version of some 80s hit or another, intermingling with the locals, and at various points taking over the stage.
 |
| This was one of those points |
Monday after class, I took a bike ride along the parade route to try scouting out where my necklace could have dropped, but again - no luck. "Okay, maybe EUOR will have something that could work in the meantime? I need tissues anyway..."
Oh look. All the stores are closed. BRILLIANT.
In my defeat, I pedal solemnly back to OSA for more laundry tokens - only to find that not only did Dojna have plenty more laundry tokens, she also had my necklace! Apparently it fell off Sunday morning during breakfast and had been sitting in the dining room until Monday afternoon.
Monday night was the Light Parade in New Well, complete with fireworks off deBuun, freezing temperatures, lit-up floats (a lot of which poked fun at Greece's situation, but political jokes are expected for Carnivale)...
 |
| One of my favorites of the night: papier-mâché Euros conveyor-belting through dry ice to a Greek temple. |
Tuesday was hectic, as usual for me, but when we arrived at deBuun for the 2:30 Ethics class we stumbled into the Daytime section of Carnival.
Yes, it was still going. At 2:30 PM. WHAT
Class continued (of course) despite several interruptions by curious (and costumed) elementary school boys and from Spice Girls blasting through the floor, both of which severely inhibited focus on the chimpanzees.
Tuesday night was the Burning of the Bird in New Well, symbolizing the end of Carnivale and the beginning of Lent.
Wednesday morning hit me like a truck with yet another cold, just in time for 90's themed American Night - or rather, so we thought. Turns out the Ash Wednesday tradition around here is to go to the Linden to peel and eat herrings.
From 7-12pm.
Let's just say American Night was a bit of a bust this week but at least we all looked slammin'.
Since Wednesday, it's been a constant push towards midterms, planning our Free Travel Week (I'm going to stay in Madrid an extra day, then go to Barcelona and Oporto (in Portugal) with Mel and Lucas), and in my case fend off the sickness. I finally got a chance to go to yoga practice on Thursday, buy tea, honey, soup and various sources of Vitamin C, and wash my sheets; I woke up today feeling miles better, so hopefully I've jumped onto a one-way train to health. Skyping with Mom & Dad was a little painful though, mostly because I look horrific today - so actually, when my video feed cut out, it kind of worked. I could see them, they couldn't see me, so blowing my nose right in front of the screen wasn't an issue.
WHOO epic post.
Anyway, if you're still reading this (Mom), yes I just got your fb message. I think you'll have put off the vacuuming for a bit more than "a few minutes" by now. If this delay caused any sneeze fits, I'm sorry.
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