My baby is getting spayed today. Poor little Julie. Wish I could be home to nurse her back to health (though I'm sure she'll be just fine, she's got her namesake's unwavering spirit).
Tomorrow we head to Cork, Ireland, to visit our friend who is also studying over here for the semester. She came to visit us early in October (with two of our friends from Uni in Northern Ireland), so we've had plans to go and pay her a visit for a while now.
I love my heritage, but let me tell you I thoroughly dislike Ireland. As far as I'm concerned, it's dirty as hell (at least the cities, particularly Dublin), and it's a God-forsaken rock of an island, with nothing but sheep as far as the eye can see.
It'll be great to get some nice fresh air out of London for the weekend though.
Hope everyone has a safe, healthy, wonderful weekend. Happy Guy Fawks day to you Brits, as someone whose ancestors you persecuted, I don't happen to be your biggest fan, but you guys sure do throw a hell of a party.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
To Whom It May Concern
If you're reading this right now, I mean anyone at all, whether you've commented on my blog before or if you're just passing through...
I have a question for you.
If I moved to Canada, would that be giving up and admitting defeat?
I love my country, my country that hates me. I love Canada too, but it's not my home.
I'm giving strong consideration to finishing off undergrad, applying to graduate programs in Canada and applying for permanent residence in Canada.
Is that giving up?
Please, I need an objective opinion. You may not know me (though if you read my blog, you certainly know a great deal about me), and you may not care to know me, but I need you advice, as an objective party.
Thanks in advance.
- Rachel
I have a question for you.
If I moved to Canada, would that be giving up and admitting defeat?
I love my country, my country that hates me. I love Canada too, but it's not my home.
I'm giving strong consideration to finishing off undergrad, applying to graduate programs in Canada and applying for permanent residence in Canada.
Is that giving up?
Please, I need an objective opinion. You may not know me (though if you read my blog, you certainly know a great deal about me), and you may not care to know me, but I need you advice, as an objective party.
Thanks in advance.
- Rachel
Maine... I Can't Believe You!
Epic fail in Maine yesterday. And across the country, as far as I'm concerned.
How can we continue to deny an entire population our rights as human beings, our ability to live freely and pursue happiness?
How can the Catholic Church throw MILLIONS of dollars into the hands of BIGOTS, when there are hungry who need to be fed and naked who need to be clothed? HOW CAN THIS BE?
What the HELL is going on in this world and why the HELL are gay people so scary??
Just because we want to be happy too?? Is that why we're scary??
Well a big F YOU to Maine and everyone who threw their money at the bigots and everyone who voted against equality, because gay people have money too, and we WON'T be spending it in your effing state. We'll go to Vermont, or Massachusetts, or Connecticut, or New Hampshire, or Iowa, or Canada, where freedom rings and rings and rings and won't be silenced.
We WON'T be silenced. Last summer was the LAST time I paid a visit to Maine, the absolute LAST time. I'm never going back to Maine until EVERYONE is equal and until my rights are as important and valued as any heterosexual.
I'm so angry I could just about spit.
How can we continue to deny an entire population our rights as human beings, our ability to live freely and pursue happiness?
How can the Catholic Church throw MILLIONS of dollars into the hands of BIGOTS, when there are hungry who need to be fed and naked who need to be clothed? HOW CAN THIS BE?
What the HELL is going on in this world and why the HELL are gay people so scary??
Just because we want to be happy too?? Is that why we're scary??
Well a big F YOU to Maine and everyone who threw their money at the bigots and everyone who voted against equality, because gay people have money too, and we WON'T be spending it in your effing state. We'll go to Vermont, or Massachusetts, or Connecticut, or New Hampshire, or Iowa, or Canada, where freedom rings and rings and rings and won't be silenced.
We WON'T be silenced. Last summer was the LAST time I paid a visit to Maine, the absolute LAST time. I'm never going back to Maine until EVERYONE is equal and until my rights are as important and valued as any heterosexual.
I'm so angry I could just about spit.
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
My Girls
This song and video is addictive, consider yourself warned.
This evening was the street lighting for all the Christmas lights in London. We went to Oxford street, braving the throngs of humanity who would smoosh us rather than allow us room to breathe.
Jim Carrey was there, though, it was neat to see him. I don't think I've ever been that near to a celebrity before, or that I have a desire to be that near to one ever again hah. People are absolutely rapid.
The lights weren't very impressive, I was thinking they would be something like the Osborn Family Christmas Lights that go up every year at the Disney Studios in Disneyworld, which are absolutely amazing, but alas. It's really not even worth putting up pictures of it.
Today is Hillary's birthday! Happy birthday Billary, three weeks today and we'll be together in London :)
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Spain
We had a wonderful time in Spain. I absolutely loved Barcelona and would go back in a heartbeat (and once back, it would be very hard to force me to leave, it is just so entirely beautiful there).
Madrid... however... was a living breathing nightmare. I will NEVER go back to Madrid. Furthermore, I will NEVER fly Iberian Air, EVER again.
My mother had an early flight on American Airlines yesterday morning, so my friend (who had been in Spain with us) and I took the transfer to the airport with her. We got up around 6 am, finished last minute packing and showering and breakfast, etc.
We said our goodbyes to my mother when we dropped her off at terminal one. The transfer brought us to terminal four, five miles away, and we then tried to check in for our flight back to London.
The time changed while we were in Spain. Spain was six hours, then five hours ahead of home, and London was five hours, then four hours ahead of home. You guys on the East Coast changed your clocks back this morning, so now we're five hours ahead of you in London (again). It's all very confusing.
We walked into the 20 minute check-in line empty handed, thinking it wouldn't be a problem since we had our passports and they could just look us up on their pretty little machines. Oh how wrong we were.
We got to the front of the line and, I kid you not, four of the desk attendants got up to go on their breaks. At the same time. So we waited about 10 more minutes and finally someone freed up. But she was on the phone, having a personal conversation might I add, and she had no interest in us.
I don't speak Spanish very well, I have a very heavy American accent and I don't like speaking Spanish because of my accent, particularly around native speakers. But I do understand Spanish almost word for word. I hate it when people assume just because I have white skin and red hair and blue eyes that I only speak English, that I am a dumb American and that I can't understand what they are saying. Molly, if you're reading this, it's like people assuming that you're not Cuban when you totally are, and that's not right at all. Assuming makes an ass out of you and me.
So she was on the phone and we gave her our passports and, because of the time changes and our confusing, we knew our flight got in to London around 2:30 but we had no idea what time it left. I knew it was about a 2 hour flight so I said it either left around 11:30 or 12:30 (major confusion). The woman looked at me and said the only flight to London was leaving through British Airways (an affiliate of Iberian Air and American Airlines, for your future information) at 12:30. I looked at her, perplexed, and explained that we had a round trip from London to Barcelona and Madrid to London. She didn't understand what I was telling her, since we flew Air Europa to Madrid. She was pretty much a c*nt and I could have reached across the counter and smacked the smug look off her horse face.
She said she checked every single flight on Iberian for that day and that we weren't on any of them. She said, because we didn't have a flight to London, it would cost us around 600 euro (that's roughly equivalent to $1100, which is roughly 2 times what we spent on our round trip tickets from Boston to London and then back). Tears were already welling up in my eyes at this point, while I frantically tried to call my mother, who had turned both of her phones off. We were on our own for this one.
She directed us to tickets and sales, where we gave the girl our story and she said she checked all the flights as well and we were on none of them. I could have died on the spot, but she told us to go to information and customer service, which we did.
When we got to customer service, we gave the woman our whole story. At this point we had been enduring this process for the better part of an hour. After we told her our story, her exact words to us were "So?" in the snottiest voice ever. "What do you want me to do about it?"
In my head I was screaming "Hello! We are your customers! Serve us!" But outwardly I was just welling up with tears and trying not to burst out crying, successfully might I add. I held it together very well, actually.
She directed us to British Airways, since the general consensus was that we were probably just confused about which airline we were flying. We got to the queue at British Airways and the woman at the top of the line, who was directing people here and there and everywhere, looked at us and asked us if she could help us.
We said "We don't know, we think we're flying Iberian, but everyone thinks we're flying British Airways, and we don't have a flight and we have to get back to London..." and basically we were about to burst into tears in front of this poor woman, so she told us to go right into the line and they would help us.
We got to the front of the line and went to the desk of a man named Constantine. God bless this man. He was confused about our story at first and thought that we were flying from Madrid to Barcelona and Barcelona to London, but eventually we helped him understand. He said "No you're not on any of our flights."
And then, with a nod and a smile he found us on Iberian Air, the 1:15 flight to London.
All the people we had gone to beforehand who had told us that they looked everywhere and couldn't find us had been lying to us. They had looked us in the eye and told us we needed to pay 600 euro for tickets to London, that we weren't on any of the manifests and therefore weren't booked to go to London.
I am so. fucking. mad. about all the shit that happened yesterday. This man was the only one who bothered to help us. We told him everything we had been through and all the different people we spoke to and he told us that it is a common problem with Iberian (we had a similar, but much less devastating experience on our way from London to Barcelona with Iberian) and that he was sorry that his co-workers didn't do their jobs. An apology from him meant to world, I just wish all the others hadn't put two twenty year old women through such hell, apparently for the sheer fun of it.
So we got on our flight, at last at last, and headed back to London. We were seated in the emergency row on the plane (and because of our bad luck that morning we were pretty terrified that we were going to be the cause of the misfortunate of the entire plane), but it was really nice to have some extra leg room.
We went through customs and got our luggage and got on the Heathrow Express to Paddington tube station. We were so emotionally exhausted (and my friend had developed a nasty cough) and just wanted to lay down and sleep, but we had to soldier on and carry our heavy bags all over God's green earth and all through the stations, etc.
An Australian man ran up to us at Paddington, apparently in distress, with tears welling up in his eyes. He was short, with grey hair and very bad teeth but he was kind and very sincere. He said he was headed home to Australia with his family and they needed 13 pound 50 pence more for the Heathrow express to Heathrow. We couldn't overlook a fellow traveler in distress, so we handed him 30 pound and went on our way. He offered us his camera, anything we wanted in duty free, but we declined. He took my friend's email address and promised us that God would bless us.
The way I see it is, God blessed him for giving us a miserable day and causing us to have pity on a traveler in distress. Everything happens for a reason, the reason we had such a terrible day yesterday was so that we could help that man and his family to get home to Australia. I don't even care if I'm out my last 10 pound because of it, and I don't even care if he didn't really need the money or if he was just going to rob us and say he was going to get in touch with us and repay us, he looked sincere and I'm not one to judge.
I'd want someone to help me if I were frantic and just trying to get home.
Other than yesterday, the trip to Spain was very lovely. It's good to be back in London, though. So good to be back.
Madrid... however... was a living breathing nightmare. I will NEVER go back to Madrid. Furthermore, I will NEVER fly Iberian Air, EVER again.
My mother had an early flight on American Airlines yesterday morning, so my friend (who had been in Spain with us) and I took the transfer to the airport with her. We got up around 6 am, finished last minute packing and showering and breakfast, etc.
We said our goodbyes to my mother when we dropped her off at terminal one. The transfer brought us to terminal four, five miles away, and we then tried to check in for our flight back to London.
The time changed while we were in Spain. Spain was six hours, then five hours ahead of home, and London was five hours, then four hours ahead of home. You guys on the East Coast changed your clocks back this morning, so now we're five hours ahead of you in London (again). It's all very confusing.
We walked into the 20 minute check-in line empty handed, thinking it wouldn't be a problem since we had our passports and they could just look us up on their pretty little machines. Oh how wrong we were.
We got to the front of the line and, I kid you not, four of the desk attendants got up to go on their breaks. At the same time. So we waited about 10 more minutes and finally someone freed up. But she was on the phone, having a personal conversation might I add, and she had no interest in us.
I don't speak Spanish very well, I have a very heavy American accent and I don't like speaking Spanish because of my accent, particularly around native speakers. But I do understand Spanish almost word for word. I hate it when people assume just because I have white skin and red hair and blue eyes that I only speak English, that I am a dumb American and that I can't understand what they are saying. Molly, if you're reading this, it's like people assuming that you're not Cuban when you totally are, and that's not right at all. Assuming makes an ass out of you and me.
So she was on the phone and we gave her our passports and, because of the time changes and our confusing, we knew our flight got in to London around 2:30 but we had no idea what time it left. I knew it was about a 2 hour flight so I said it either left around 11:30 or 12:30 (major confusion). The woman looked at me and said the only flight to London was leaving through British Airways (an affiliate of Iberian Air and American Airlines, for your future information) at 12:30. I looked at her, perplexed, and explained that we had a round trip from London to Barcelona and Madrid to London. She didn't understand what I was telling her, since we flew Air Europa to Madrid. She was pretty much a c*nt and I could have reached across the counter and smacked the smug look off her horse face.
She said she checked every single flight on Iberian for that day and that we weren't on any of them. She said, because we didn't have a flight to London, it would cost us around 600 euro (that's roughly equivalent to $1100, which is roughly 2 times what we spent on our round trip tickets from Boston to London and then back). Tears were already welling up in my eyes at this point, while I frantically tried to call my mother, who had turned both of her phones off. We were on our own for this one.
She directed us to tickets and sales, where we gave the girl our story and she said she checked all the flights as well and we were on none of them. I could have died on the spot, but she told us to go to information and customer service, which we did.
When we got to customer service, we gave the woman our whole story. At this point we had been enduring this process for the better part of an hour. After we told her our story, her exact words to us were "So?" in the snottiest voice ever. "What do you want me to do about it?"
In my head I was screaming "Hello! We are your customers! Serve us!" But outwardly I was just welling up with tears and trying not to burst out crying, successfully might I add. I held it together very well, actually.
She directed us to British Airways, since the general consensus was that we were probably just confused about which airline we were flying. We got to the queue at British Airways and the woman at the top of the line, who was directing people here and there and everywhere, looked at us and asked us if she could help us.
We said "We don't know, we think we're flying Iberian, but everyone thinks we're flying British Airways, and we don't have a flight and we have to get back to London..." and basically we were about to burst into tears in front of this poor woman, so she told us to go right into the line and they would help us.
We got to the front of the line and went to the desk of a man named Constantine. God bless this man. He was confused about our story at first and thought that we were flying from Madrid to Barcelona and Barcelona to London, but eventually we helped him understand. He said "No you're not on any of our flights."
And then, with a nod and a smile he found us on Iberian Air, the 1:15 flight to London.
All the people we had gone to beforehand who had told us that they looked everywhere and couldn't find us had been lying to us. They had looked us in the eye and told us we needed to pay 600 euro for tickets to London, that we weren't on any of the manifests and therefore weren't booked to go to London.
I am so. fucking. mad. about all the shit that happened yesterday. This man was the only one who bothered to help us. We told him everything we had been through and all the different people we spoke to and he told us that it is a common problem with Iberian (we had a similar, but much less devastating experience on our way from London to Barcelona with Iberian) and that he was sorry that his co-workers didn't do their jobs. An apology from him meant to world, I just wish all the others hadn't put two twenty year old women through such hell, apparently for the sheer fun of it.
So we got on our flight, at last at last, and headed back to London. We were seated in the emergency row on the plane (and because of our bad luck that morning we were pretty terrified that we were going to be the cause of the misfortunate of the entire plane), but it was really nice to have some extra leg room.
We went through customs and got our luggage and got on the Heathrow Express to Paddington tube station. We were so emotionally exhausted (and my friend had developed a nasty cough) and just wanted to lay down and sleep, but we had to soldier on and carry our heavy bags all over God's green earth and all through the stations, etc.
An Australian man ran up to us at Paddington, apparently in distress, with tears welling up in his eyes. He was short, with grey hair and very bad teeth but he was kind and very sincere. He said he was headed home to Australia with his family and they needed 13 pound 50 pence more for the Heathrow express to Heathrow. We couldn't overlook a fellow traveler in distress, so we handed him 30 pound and went on our way. He offered us his camera, anything we wanted in duty free, but we declined. He took my friend's email address and promised us that God would bless us.
The way I see it is, God blessed him for giving us a miserable day and causing us to have pity on a traveler in distress. Everything happens for a reason, the reason we had such a terrible day yesterday was so that we could help that man and his family to get home to Australia. I don't even care if I'm out my last 10 pound because of it, and I don't even care if he didn't really need the money or if he was just going to rob us and say he was going to get in touch with us and repay us, he looked sincere and I'm not one to judge.
I'd want someone to help me if I were frantic and just trying to get home.
Other than yesterday, the trip to Spain was very lovely. It's good to be back in London, though. So good to be back.
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