Paper writing makes me gloomy. I'm one down, two to go at this point. I finished my paper on Leonardo. What talent, too bad there is barely anything on this Earth left from his genius hand. It was between Leonardo and Michelangelo, and I have no doubt that Leonardo was the more genius of the two, and that Michelangelo was probably a psychopath and definitely a narcisist, so he doesn't really deserve my words.
I've been in a Billie Holiday mood ever since Hillary left yesterday. I'm just about the most pathetic creature there ever was. I was not at all homesick until Hillary got here, and now I can't stop thinking about home. Everything about it makes me giddy.
I'm going to miss London though, it's such a dreamy place. I'm going to miss the way the lights in Piccadilly Circus reflect in the glittery pavement after a gentle London rain. I'm going to miss meandering through the halls of the National Gallery, or sitting on the steps of Trafalgar Square, staring out over Parliament, Big Ben and the Eye. I'm going to miss the plays and the musicals and how you're never too far from home in London. I am far from my home though, my real home, my creaky hardwood floors and my soft mattress, with the permeating smell of cats and rabbits and dogs and people all intermingling, with a warm cup of tea sitting beside the green chair in the living room. I miss traipsing into the house with my best friends at 10 pm, greeting my tired mother and taking over the living room of the basement, having tea parties or hot chocolate parties or pizza or everything in sight. The house feels so right when all my friends are there, because they're like a family to me. My family is so small, just me and my mom, and my best friends really make me feel like I have bunches of other sisters (and my brother Rob of course).
There's nothing in this world more pleasant to me than to be sitting in my living room, surrounded by my friends and my mom, drinking tea and talking or watching a movie.
I think when I get home, I'm going to hold on to those last few days in the house with all of my heart and all of my soul and make it last forever before I move to the apartment and everything changes. I'm ready for change, I just hope I remember what it feels like to be in my little brown house, surrounded by the best friends in the world and my mom, and to know that there is nothing better.
Showing posts with label London. Show all posts
Showing posts with label London. Show all posts
Monday, November 30, 2009
Sunday, November 29, 2009
London, Paris and the Adventure of a Lifetime
What a city. Paris is beautiful! It's like London, only in French!
We stayed at the Best Western Nouvel Orleans, and if you're ever in town you should definitely check it out. The accomodations are small and cozy, but the beds are comfy and they have typical Parisian balconies overlooking the rues.
Showing Hillary around London made me so terribly happy. I do love London a lot, and I'm going to miss this town when I leave (in twenty-one days, can you believe it!), but I absolutely cannot wait to get home. I miss my cats and my puppy and my rabbits. I can see it now, I'm going to walk through the front door and be smothered by a big old blind kitty who is going to give me scratchy tongue kisses all over my face (especially my eyelids, because she's weird) and she is going to make me carry her 15 pound self around for an hour or so and when I finally get her to calm down and realise she isn't dreaming I'm going to be pounced upon by a slobbery dog, who is then going to make me carry her 40 pound self around for an hour or so. The rabbits won't slobber, pounce or smother, they will just see me and jump all around and give me those big rabbit eyes and silently ask me for yogurt chips. Buns will request that I give him a kiss on her twitchy nose and that I rub him between his eyes.
Gosh I'm such a sucker.
But back to London and Paris. London is a fun town, and it was awesome to be able to share it with my most favourite person in the world.
Paris is just amazing, and fortunately they have very effective public transportation. We saw the Eiffle Tower at night, all lit up and glowing. We went to the Louvre and saw the Mona Lisa, which was okay but I've seen better art since I've been here (and there are better Da Vinci's elsewhere).
Walking around Paris was by far the best part of the little trip. Walking through the streets and little cobbled alleyways, arm in arm or hand in hand. Notre Dam was impressive, but the little Sant Chappelle across the street was better (but not free). I hope to get back to Paris someday, and to get back to France someday as well, just like I hope to return to Spain and Barcelona, and Norway and Oslo.
We had dinner at this little Italian restaurant (if there is one Italian place in a 5 mile radius, I can find it simply by following my nose, trust), both nights. We had the same waiter both times, and he remembered our orders (and laughed when I got the same meal and said 'I'm not very adventurous'). On the second night we had our glasses of chianti, our still water, our pastas, and then our desserts (she had the fruit tiaramisu and I had this DELICIOUS sorbet with fresh fruit with CHAMPAGNE, ugh it was like I literally died and went to heaven). When they brought our dessert out the waiter comes over to the table and hands us to LARGE glasses of amaretto (and the two cups of tea we ordered, post dessert) and said "from us" with a smile. They totally knew it was our one year anniversary, and they made it so entirely special.
When we got back into London last evening, we were starving and exhausted, so I brought Hillary to Marleybone High Street, where all the cute little restaurants are (and the best gelato in London, if I didn't know better I'd swear I were Italian), but we were so hungry that our eyes were bigger than our stomachs and we barely ate any of our food. We stopped at a bar on the way home, after sharing a 1/2 bottle of red wine at dinner, and I had a double shot rum and coke and she had a double shot vodka cranberry and then we shared a pitcher of a drink called "purple rain" which is basically vodka and lemonade and anything else they feel like throwing in. We stumbled home in the rain, got ready for bed and passed out.
I got her to the airport today with 70 minutes to spare (they close the check-in for flights 60 minutes before departure, so we were sincerely hustling), held her hand and played with her soft brown hair the whole time. When we kissed goodbye while she was running to get to security I felt the biggest pang in my heart. I miss her so much, I miss home so much. It's like taking someone's heart and ripping it right out of their chest, and then sending it over 3,000 miles away.
But I'll only be here for another twenty-one days, and then I can go home and everything will be perfectly right with the world.
Hope everyone in the States had a very happy Thanksgiving!
We stayed at the Best Western Nouvel Orleans, and if you're ever in town you should definitely check it out. The accomodations are small and cozy, but the beds are comfy and they have typical Parisian balconies overlooking the rues.
Showing Hillary around London made me so terribly happy. I do love London a lot, and I'm going to miss this town when I leave (in twenty-one days, can you believe it!), but I absolutely cannot wait to get home. I miss my cats and my puppy and my rabbits. I can see it now, I'm going to walk through the front door and be smothered by a big old blind kitty who is going to give me scratchy tongue kisses all over my face (especially my eyelids, because she's weird) and she is going to make me carry her 15 pound self around for an hour or so and when I finally get her to calm down and realise she isn't dreaming I'm going to be pounced upon by a slobbery dog, who is then going to make me carry her 40 pound self around for an hour or so. The rabbits won't slobber, pounce or smother, they will just see me and jump all around and give me those big rabbit eyes and silently ask me for yogurt chips. Buns will request that I give him a kiss on her twitchy nose and that I rub him between his eyes.
Gosh I'm such a sucker.
But back to London and Paris. London is a fun town, and it was awesome to be able to share it with my most favourite person in the world.
Paris is just amazing, and fortunately they have very effective public transportation. We saw the Eiffle Tower at night, all lit up and glowing. We went to the Louvre and saw the Mona Lisa, which was okay but I've seen better art since I've been here (and there are better Da Vinci's elsewhere).
Walking around Paris was by far the best part of the little trip. Walking through the streets and little cobbled alleyways, arm in arm or hand in hand. Notre Dam was impressive, but the little Sant Chappelle across the street was better (but not free). I hope to get back to Paris someday, and to get back to France someday as well, just like I hope to return to Spain and Barcelona, and Norway and Oslo.
We had dinner at this little Italian restaurant (if there is one Italian place in a 5 mile radius, I can find it simply by following my nose, trust), both nights. We had the same waiter both times, and he remembered our orders (and laughed when I got the same meal and said 'I'm not very adventurous'). On the second night we had our glasses of chianti, our still water, our pastas, and then our desserts (she had the fruit tiaramisu and I had this DELICIOUS sorbet with fresh fruit with CHAMPAGNE, ugh it was like I literally died and went to heaven). When they brought our dessert out the waiter comes over to the table and hands us to LARGE glasses of amaretto (and the two cups of tea we ordered, post dessert) and said "from us" with a smile. They totally knew it was our one year anniversary, and they made it so entirely special.
When we got back into London last evening, we were starving and exhausted, so I brought Hillary to Marleybone High Street, where all the cute little restaurants are (and the best gelato in London, if I didn't know better I'd swear I were Italian), but we were so hungry that our eyes were bigger than our stomachs and we barely ate any of our food. We stopped at a bar on the way home, after sharing a 1/2 bottle of red wine at dinner, and I had a double shot rum and coke and she had a double shot vodka cranberry and then we shared a pitcher of a drink called "purple rain" which is basically vodka and lemonade and anything else they feel like throwing in. We stumbled home in the rain, got ready for bed and passed out.
I got her to the airport today with 70 minutes to spare (they close the check-in for flights 60 minutes before departure, so we were sincerely hustling), held her hand and played with her soft brown hair the whole time. When we kissed goodbye while she was running to get to security I felt the biggest pang in my heart. I miss her so much, I miss home so much. It's like taking someone's heart and ripping it right out of their chest, and then sending it over 3,000 miles away.
But I'll only be here for another twenty-one days, and then I can go home and everything will be perfectly right with the world.
Hope everyone in the States had a very happy Thanksgiving!
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
British Museum
If there is any one place in London that would cause me to want to stay here permanently, it would be the British Museum.
I remember going to the National Gallery every day for the first few weeks we were here, like I was trying to become one with the paintings or something hah. The whole time everyone kept telling me I needed to get over to see the British Museum.
But it's "the British Museum." Sometimes I don't even know why I'm IN England. The English weren't particularly nice to my ancestors, and quite frankly they weren't very nice to anyone's ancestors. I really have no interest in learning about the history of a people who managed to rape and pillage and decimate entire populations of people on almost every single continent (and who continue to do so even to this day...). Moving on though.
Eventually I made my way to the British Museum. Let me just say, it is NOT a museum about everything British. It's basically a HUGE building filled with random collections of artifacts, sarcophigi, pieces of architecture, totem poles, tribal dress, etc. etc. from all over the world. When you first walk up to the building, you are immediately awe-struck by its sheer massiveness. It looks like an ancient Greek temple, it doesn't look at all like it belongs plopped in the middle of London.
This is the top of the entrance, I need to try to get it at a better angle, I took this picture the first time I went and I was all fumbly with excitement.
Then you get inside and you're confronted with these massive triagular windows on the ceiling. It's simply incredible, the amount of light flowing everywhere. It is HUGE, both inside and out. It's not a museum you can see in one day, so good thing it's free! This is the main area, which apparently used to be a green but is now a lot of things (anything but green though).
These are some bearded men. They look kind of like the statues with the glowy eyes from The Never Ending Story Shows you how much I paid attention whilst walking through the museum. It's a knowledge overload.
I do remember that these were taken from the Parthenon. The Greek parts of the museum are ASTONISHING (not that the rest of the museum isn't...)
And this is the Rosetta stone! Cool huh??
We went to the British Museum today for my Renaissance Art class to see the Prints and Drawings room where they have the sketches of such famous Renaissance men as Leonardo, Raphael, Michelangelo, etc. It was AMAZING to see their sketches up close, not behind glass or anything. They're very protective of the sketches, don't get me wrong, but the room is intimate, only something like 10-15 people are let in at a time, and it's a HUGE library-like room, with lots of workers bustling around cataloguing things, but it's so quite and it's like it's just you and the Renaissance. It's really very beautiful.
I do love it here, a lot. I was walking home from the museum today, alone, and I thought to myself "Self, I don't think I've ever felt quite so alone in my whole life," but it's not a bad kind of alone. It's like being totally and utterly alone on a distant planet, away from all other people and life, but it's okay because you have you and your thoughts and your imagination. I probably feel like that because the people in London are so unfriendly, they can't even be bothered to say "hello" or even to make eye contact. But it's nice, this alone-ness. I think I might just miss it when I go home.
This is my "I'm so happy to be in London" face :)
If I don't post tomorrow or Friday, have a lovely weekend world! I'm off to Norway to become one with my inner Viking. I think I'll start going by Rachel the Red hahaha
I remember going to the National Gallery every day for the first few weeks we were here, like I was trying to become one with the paintings or something hah. The whole time everyone kept telling me I needed to get over to see the British Museum.
But it's "the British Museum." Sometimes I don't even know why I'm IN England. The English weren't particularly nice to my ancestors, and quite frankly they weren't very nice to anyone's ancestors. I really have no interest in learning about the history of a people who managed to rape and pillage and decimate entire populations of people on almost every single continent (and who continue to do so even to this day...). Moving on though.
Eventually I made my way to the British Museum. Let me just say, it is NOT a museum about everything British. It's basically a HUGE building filled with random collections of artifacts, sarcophigi, pieces of architecture, totem poles, tribal dress, etc. etc. from all over the world. When you first walk up to the building, you are immediately awe-struck by its sheer massiveness. It looks like an ancient Greek temple, it doesn't look at all like it belongs plopped in the middle of London.
This is the top of the entrance, I need to try to get it at a better angle, I took this picture the first time I went and I was all fumbly with excitement.
Then you get inside and you're confronted with these massive triagular windows on the ceiling. It's simply incredible, the amount of light flowing everywhere. It is HUGE, both inside and out. It's not a museum you can see in one day, so good thing it's free! This is the main area, which apparently used to be a green but is now a lot of things (anything but green though).
These are some bearded men. They look kind of like the statues with the glowy eyes from The Never Ending Story Shows you how much I paid attention whilst walking through the museum. It's a knowledge overload.
I do remember that these were taken from the Parthenon. The Greek parts of the museum are ASTONISHING (not that the rest of the museum isn't...)
And this is the Rosetta stone! Cool huh??
We went to the British Museum today for my Renaissance Art class to see the Prints and Drawings room where they have the sketches of such famous Renaissance men as Leonardo, Raphael, Michelangelo, etc. It was AMAZING to see their sketches up close, not behind glass or anything. They're very protective of the sketches, don't get me wrong, but the room is intimate, only something like 10-15 people are let in at a time, and it's a HUGE library-like room, with lots of workers bustling around cataloguing things, but it's so quite and it's like it's just you and the Renaissance. It's really very beautiful.
I do love it here, a lot. I was walking home from the museum today, alone, and I thought to myself "Self, I don't think I've ever felt quite so alone in my whole life," but it's not a bad kind of alone. It's like being totally and utterly alone on a distant planet, away from all other people and life, but it's okay because you have you and your thoughts and your imagination. I probably feel like that because the people in London are so unfriendly, they can't even be bothered to say "hello" or even to make eye contact. But it's nice, this alone-ness. I think I might just miss it when I go home.
This is my "I'm so happy to be in London" face :)
If I don't post tomorrow or Friday, have a lovely weekend world! I'm off to Norway to become one with my inner Viking. I think I'll start going by Rachel the Red hahaha
Monday, November 9, 2009
Cat on a Hot Tin Roof
We're home from Ireland. It was lovely, it rained all day Saturday, but it was incredibly beautiful (despite the rain). I love me some old country, it feels like going home for some reason, but it makes me miss Newfoundland like crazy (not that everything doesn't make me miss Newfoundland... but everything about Ireland reminds me of NF). I can't stand how isolated Ireland is though, and how small everything is and how quiet it is and how friendly everyone is...
Hah well at that last part, everyone is very friendly in Ireland (once you get outside of Dublin) for the most part, which is something you RARELY find in London. It's nice to having someone treat you with politeness, it's just very strange (for me, someone who spends the better part of her time being treated like the lowest of the low in my baggy jeans and hoodies on the streets of London. Just because I don't wear Gucci and Versace doesn't mean you have the right to treat me like sh*t, it just means I'm not as tacky and flamboyant as you).
But now onto bigger and better news.
Oh so so so much better.
I can barely contain my joy.
Okay Rachel... breathe...
I'm going to see Cat on a Hot Tin Roof with Hillary in 15 days (15 days tomorrow night, I'm jumping ahead a little out of sheer excitement).
But seeing that play isn't the most exciting part. It gets better.
It's staring... JAMES EARL JONES!! Mufasa... Darth Vader... Oh how exquisite it will be!!
But wait... it is about to get even better!!
It's also starring... PHYLICIA RASHAD!! Now, I know I'm in love with an average of 50 billion women at any given moment, but to be completely honest, Phylicia Rashad is probably the hottest woman I've ever seen (if not at least she is in the top five). She is so hott, with her BA attitude on the Cosby Show, not to mention how drop-dead, breath-takingly GORGEOUS she is. I'm probably going to melt into a puddle in my seat and Hillary is going to have to carry me home. I know I won't be able to take pictures in the theatre, but rest assured my mouth will be gaping open the entire time and I will have palpitations.
Hope everyones' weeks are off to fantastic starts. Tomorrow is Tuesday... ugh... my worst day. My architecture professor runs us all over the city on Tuesdays. Wish me luck please!
Take care out there!
Hah well at that last part, everyone is very friendly in Ireland (once you get outside of Dublin) for the most part, which is something you RARELY find in London. It's nice to having someone treat you with politeness, it's just very strange (for me, someone who spends the better part of her time being treated like the lowest of the low in my baggy jeans and hoodies on the streets of London. Just because I don't wear Gucci and Versace doesn't mean you have the right to treat me like sh*t, it just means I'm not as tacky and flamboyant as you).
But now onto bigger and better news.
Oh so so so much better.
I can barely contain my joy.
Okay Rachel... breathe...
I'm going to see Cat on a Hot Tin Roof with Hillary in 15 days (15 days tomorrow night, I'm jumping ahead a little out of sheer excitement).
But seeing that play isn't the most exciting part. It gets better.
It's staring... JAMES EARL JONES!! Mufasa... Darth Vader... Oh how exquisite it will be!!
But wait... it is about to get even better!!
It's also starring... PHYLICIA RASHAD!! Now, I know I'm in love with an average of 50 billion women at any given moment, but to be completely honest, Phylicia Rashad is probably the hottest woman I've ever seen (if not at least she is in the top five). She is so hott, with her BA attitude on the Cosby Show, not to mention how drop-dead, breath-takingly GORGEOUS she is. I'm probably going to melt into a puddle in my seat and Hillary is going to have to carry me home. I know I won't be able to take pictures in the theatre, but rest assured my mouth will be gaping open the entire time and I will have palpitations.
Hope everyones' weeks are off to fantastic starts. Tomorrow is Tuesday... ugh... my worst day. My architecture professor runs us all over the city on Tuesdays. Wish me luck please!
Take care out there!
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Julie Andrews Jr.
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.
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.
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.
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Doesn't Anyone Understand?
We toured Toledo today. The city is very beautiful, very old but very very beautiful. We saw the oldest synogogue in Western Europe. It's no longer a working synogogue, but now more of a museum. For a long time in Toledo there were three groups, Jews, Christians and Muslims. The three groups lived in relative peace and harmony, as far as any records can tell.
Then Queen Isabella came and ruined it all and had all the synogogues torn down and all the jews basically converted or killed. Very unpleasant times indeed.
The Spanish didn't take part in WWII (from what I recall from high school history lessons), because they were dealing with their own civil war at the time. Francisco Franco, the fascist dictator of Spain from the 30's until relatively recently, being a facist, let Hitler use his country and his people for target practice for testing out bombs and weapons of destruction. That's where Picasso's famous "Guernica" comes in (I'm seeing it tomorrow, I hope I don't weep). Joan Miro, my most favourite artist, has some very insightful pieces reflecting on the civil war and the years of tumolt for Spain. We went to the Miro museum in Barcelona, which was such an astonishing experience for me. The first time I saw a Miro first hand was in Hartford in 2004, I believe, at the Athenium (if you're from Connecticut you've probably been at one time or another, it's very small but it's a cute museum and I believe it's the oldest public art museum in the United States, but I could be mistaken). He is a contemporary artist, and most of his works seem very primitive and unrealistic, but what you really must do is look beyond the figures, the paint, the frame, the palet, and make the painting something for you. I like art that becomes whatever you want it to become.
But this wasn't meant to be a rant about Miro.
In Toledo today, I noticed there to be a lot of graffiti of swastikas. I don't understand how anyone, particularly someone in Europe, particularly someone whose country suffered under a fascist dictator for decades, could possibly promote the fascist way. Don't they know how their parents and grandparents suffered? Don't they know how all the people of Europe suffered? Fleeing from bombs falling here and there, shrapnal everywhere, air raids, no food, never knowing if you'd live to see tomorrow or if your children would live to see the end of the war. Or worse, if you were one of the direct victims of the fascists, if they stuck you in a ghetto and then huddled you into a cramped box car and sent you off to never be seen or heard from again. Spain is a Catholic nation, don't they know what the Nazis did to the Catholics? Don't they know, don't they understand? How can anyone draw the swastika without silently killing their soul?
Sadly those aren't the first swastikas I've seen in Europe. There is a little shrine, with candles and swastikas in chalk on a stoop near my school in London (in one of the most affluent neighbourhoods in London, might I add). I got so angry and sad when I saw it, that I blew both the candles out, and I don't even care if CCTV saw me do it. They're English, the Nazis tried to wipe London off the map of the world, don't they understand?
On a MUCH happier note, I just got word that Obama signed the Hate Crimes Bill into LAW! How awesome is that?
Perhaps there is hope after all. Yes, I'd say there is a lot of hope. Things are getting better all the time :)
http://www.hrc.org/13699.htm
Miro, 1973, "The Smile of a Tear" very appropriate for today
Then Queen Isabella came and ruined it all and had all the synogogues torn down and all the jews basically converted or killed. Very unpleasant times indeed.
The Spanish didn't take part in WWII (from what I recall from high school history lessons), because they were dealing with their own civil war at the time. Francisco Franco, the fascist dictator of Spain from the 30's until relatively recently, being a facist, let Hitler use his country and his people for target practice for testing out bombs and weapons of destruction. That's where Picasso's famous "Guernica" comes in (I'm seeing it tomorrow, I hope I don't weep). Joan Miro, my most favourite artist, has some very insightful pieces reflecting on the civil war and the years of tumolt for Spain. We went to the Miro museum in Barcelona, which was such an astonishing experience for me. The first time I saw a Miro first hand was in Hartford in 2004, I believe, at the Athenium (if you're from Connecticut you've probably been at one time or another, it's very small but it's a cute museum and I believe it's the oldest public art museum in the United States, but I could be mistaken). He is a contemporary artist, and most of his works seem very primitive and unrealistic, but what you really must do is look beyond the figures, the paint, the frame, the palet, and make the painting something for you. I like art that becomes whatever you want it to become.
But this wasn't meant to be a rant about Miro.
In Toledo today, I noticed there to be a lot of graffiti of swastikas. I don't understand how anyone, particularly someone in Europe, particularly someone whose country suffered under a fascist dictator for decades, could possibly promote the fascist way. Don't they know how their parents and grandparents suffered? Don't they know how all the people of Europe suffered? Fleeing from bombs falling here and there, shrapnal everywhere, air raids, no food, never knowing if you'd live to see tomorrow or if your children would live to see the end of the war. Or worse, if you were one of the direct victims of the fascists, if they stuck you in a ghetto and then huddled you into a cramped box car and sent you off to never be seen or heard from again. Spain is a Catholic nation, don't they know what the Nazis did to the Catholics? Don't they know, don't they understand? How can anyone draw the swastika without silently killing their soul?
Sadly those aren't the first swastikas I've seen in Europe. There is a little shrine, with candles and swastikas in chalk on a stoop near my school in London (in one of the most affluent neighbourhoods in London, might I add). I got so angry and sad when I saw it, that I blew both the candles out, and I don't even care if CCTV saw me do it. They're English, the Nazis tried to wipe London off the map of the world, don't they understand?
On a MUCH happier note, I just got word that Obama signed the Hate Crimes Bill into LAW! How awesome is that?
Perhaps there is hope after all. Yes, I'd say there is a lot of hope. Things are getting better all the time :)
http://www.hrc.org/13699.htm
Miro, 1973, "The Smile of a Tear" very appropriate for today
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Everyone Deserves a Chance to Fly
I saw Wicked the other day here in London Town.
It was absofreakinlutely phenomenal. I love love loved it. It made me kind of sad and nostalgic, though, because (although it was my first time seeing the musical) my friends from school and I (my best friends at school) would after get together at night and sit around and sing songs for Wicked. I remember sitting in my car, my baby Rhonda, blasting Defying Gravity, my friends all around me shouting the words and trying to keep up with Idina Menzel and just laughing and laughing and having a wonderful time just being together and being utterly silly.
I wish I weren't a grown up, almost constantly.
Yesterday we walked around Camden Market. The place reeks of incense, in fact the smell still lingers on the clothes I wore yesterday. Incense reminds me of high school, coming home after a long day and lighting a stick of incense and just relaxing.
Tomorrow I have to get up super early to meet my professor at the train to go to Cambridge for an out of class field trip. I like to sleep in on Fridays (or travel), but it will be nice to get outside of London for a bit.
Then next Friday we leave for Spain where we'll meet up with the Madre and have a wonderful time, to be sure. I'm excited to see my mom, I've missed her. I wish my sister and the kids could come visit, but I know that's impossible. I feel terrible that my baby niece will be five months old, almost six, by the time I get home; and about 10 days after I get home my oldest niece is turning seven! Where does the time go?
I also feel pretty bad that the thing I am looking forward to the most out of this whole trip is seeing Hillary. I've been trying to convince myself that I don't miss her, that I'm fine without her and that four months isn't that long to go, but it truly is. I can't wait for her to get here so I can show her how amazing London is, walk her along the lake at Hyde Park and take her into the little used book shops near the British Museum. I'm looking forward to Paris, too, eating good food (hopefully!) and drinking great wine. But mostly I'm excited to see Hillary, and I might not even care if we did anything the whole time that she is here (besides the fact that I want to show her around and for her to see as much as she possibly can in the short time that she is here).
It's strange, I never thought I'd be in love. I certainly never thought I'd find anyone like Hillary, she's perfect for me.
But no more of that mushy stuff. Hope everyone has a productive Friday and a wonderful weekend :)
It was absofreakinlutely phenomenal. I love love loved it. It made me kind of sad and nostalgic, though, because (although it was my first time seeing the musical) my friends from school and I (my best friends at school) would after get together at night and sit around and sing songs for Wicked. I remember sitting in my car, my baby Rhonda, blasting Defying Gravity, my friends all around me shouting the words and trying to keep up with Idina Menzel and just laughing and laughing and having a wonderful time just being together and being utterly silly.
I wish I weren't a grown up, almost constantly.
Yesterday we walked around Camden Market. The place reeks of incense, in fact the smell still lingers on the clothes I wore yesterday. Incense reminds me of high school, coming home after a long day and lighting a stick of incense and just relaxing.
Tomorrow I have to get up super early to meet my professor at the train to go to Cambridge for an out of class field trip. I like to sleep in on Fridays (or travel), but it will be nice to get outside of London for a bit.
Then next Friday we leave for Spain where we'll meet up with the Madre and have a wonderful time, to be sure. I'm excited to see my mom, I've missed her. I wish my sister and the kids could come visit, but I know that's impossible. I feel terrible that my baby niece will be five months old, almost six, by the time I get home; and about 10 days after I get home my oldest niece is turning seven! Where does the time go?
I also feel pretty bad that the thing I am looking forward to the most out of this whole trip is seeing Hillary. I've been trying to convince myself that I don't miss her, that I'm fine without her and that four months isn't that long to go, but it truly is. I can't wait for her to get here so I can show her how amazing London is, walk her along the lake at Hyde Park and take her into the little used book shops near the British Museum. I'm looking forward to Paris, too, eating good food (hopefully!) and drinking great wine. But mostly I'm excited to see Hillary, and I might not even care if we did anything the whole time that she is here (besides the fact that I want to show her around and for her to see as much as she possibly can in the short time that she is here).
It's strange, I never thought I'd be in love. I certainly never thought I'd find anyone like Hillary, she's perfect for me.
But no more of that mushy stuff. Hope everyone has a productive Friday and a wonderful weekend :)
Thursday, September 24, 2009
The Boys Wanna Be Her
We're seeing PEACHES... TONIGHT!
I am so effing excited I can hardly stand it. I love Peaches, and I hear her shows are absolutely out of control. She's probably the coolest chick who ever lived and if I go home with her, Hillary totally can't be upset with me.
But no, for reals, that would never happen.
But I am VERY excited about seeing Peaches and dancing and being up until 3 am. I hope I get a picture with her, she's doing a DJ set so it's not like she'll be up on a stage or anything. Totally going to get her autograph :)
If you're in London tonight go to the Bath House and see Peaches!
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Love Dares You to Care For the People
This is our selves... under pressure
I always idolized Freddie Mercury (who doesn't, though?). Ever since I've gotten to London, "Under Pressure" is on repeat in my brain. I feel like this song is a great characterisation of this city (or any city for that matter). Everyone is doing their own thing and they forget that they aren't the only person on the face of the earth.
You should check out my other blog: Across the Pond and comment on my posts! I'm having a fantastic adventure in London so far :)
Sunday, August 30, 2009
New Blog
I've created a new blog where I'm going to compile all of my pictures, thoughts, adventures, etc. from London over the next four months or so.
The blog is called Across the Pond
I suspect I'll do a great deal of blogging from that one, so things might get kind of dead around here for a while. However, I do like to come here and rant and rave so I suspect if I ever feel the need to do that, I'll come here.
This is basically my way of saying that, if you want to keep up with what's going on in London, or what's going on with me, you should probably look up my new blog. But don't forget about The Ray! 201 posts later and still going strong! Check in every now and then here to see if anything is going on, but definitely check out the new blog, I think it will definitely be worth your while!
The blog is called Across the Pond
I suspect I'll do a great deal of blogging from that one, so things might get kind of dead around here for a while. However, I do like to come here and rant and rave so I suspect if I ever feel the need to do that, I'll come here.
This is basically my way of saying that, if you want to keep up with what's going on in London, or what's going on with me, you should probably look up my new blog. But don't forget about The Ray! 201 posts later and still going strong! Check in every now and then here to see if anything is going on, but definitely check out the new blog, I think it will definitely be worth your while!
Thursday, August 27, 2009
A Giant Leap for Equality
I was at church this evening for my last service before heading across the pond. I gave my pastor a great big hug, knowing how much we're going to miss each other and how much I'm going to miss the church community. Pastor is a wonderful man who has taught me so much about living my life as a spiritual person, his retirement in February is going to be one of the hardest losses of my life. He can't step foot in the church for five years after he retires, which is a church rule in order for the new pastor to become familiar with the congregation. I sure am going to miss him though, but when I get back from London I'll be church shopping near the new apartment. Hopefully I'll be lucky enough to find a congregation as warm as the one I am leaving behind, but no one will ever be able to replace pastor.
It took me a while to get out of church tonight, as everyone was talking with me about London and wishing me well and I was saying my goodbyes. Mom said she thought pastor was getting a little misty when he was saying his goodbyes to me, and I wouldn't doubt it because I was too. I cried like a baby as I drove myself home tonight. I haven't gone four months without going to church since I was baptised.
However, I wasn't so much crying because I am going to miss pastor, the congregation, the feeling I get when I sing a hymn or look up at the cross in the pulpit. Pastor told me, as I was leaving, that the church (the Evangelical Lutheran Church of America) recently (this week!!) voted to stop discriminatory practices in regard to sexual orientation. That means that gays and lesbians are now able to be married in the church by an ordained Lutheran minister, gays and lesbians can serve openly as ordained ministers AND be in committed relationships with their spouses. Previously, gays and lesbians could serve as ordained ministers BUT they had to be abstinant, and church policy was that gay and lesbian commitment ceremonies or weddings wouldn't be church sponsored.
This is the. best. news. EVER! I'm so happy for the church, it literally made me weepy, so my tears were a mix of sadness at leaving and happiness that the church is finally entering the 21st century (they skipped right over the 19th and 20th and moved right into the 21st! big steps for a conservative, old fashioned organization). This bodes very well for my interest in becoming a pastor, something I need to discuss with my pastor when I get back from London. I love research and psychology but I've always felt called to serve God and it's not something I can deny. I'm just glad I no longer have to choose between serving God as an ordained individual and being true to myself. I'm also relieved that, if I want to, I can be married in my own church by my own pastor and have a marriage recognized by my church.
It's a wonderful feeling to be accepted. Somewhere in heaven Jesus is saying "now stop persecuting the homos and start feeding the hungry!"
It took me a while to get out of church tonight, as everyone was talking with me about London and wishing me well and I was saying my goodbyes. Mom said she thought pastor was getting a little misty when he was saying his goodbyes to me, and I wouldn't doubt it because I was too. I cried like a baby as I drove myself home tonight. I haven't gone four months without going to church since I was baptised.
However, I wasn't so much crying because I am going to miss pastor, the congregation, the feeling I get when I sing a hymn or look up at the cross in the pulpit. Pastor told me, as I was leaving, that the church (the Evangelical Lutheran Church of America) recently (this week!!) voted to stop discriminatory practices in regard to sexual orientation. That means that gays and lesbians are now able to be married in the church by an ordained Lutheran minister, gays and lesbians can serve openly as ordained ministers AND be in committed relationships with their spouses. Previously, gays and lesbians could serve as ordained ministers BUT they had to be abstinant, and church policy was that gay and lesbian commitment ceremonies or weddings wouldn't be church sponsored.
This is the. best. news. EVER! I'm so happy for the church, it literally made me weepy, so my tears were a mix of sadness at leaving and happiness that the church is finally entering the 21st century (they skipped right over the 19th and 20th and moved right into the 21st! big steps for a conservative, old fashioned organization). This bodes very well for my interest in becoming a pastor, something I need to discuss with my pastor when I get back from London. I love research and psychology but I've always felt called to serve God and it's not something I can deny. I'm just glad I no longer have to choose between serving God as an ordained individual and being true to myself. I'm also relieved that, if I want to, I can be married in my own church by my own pastor and have a marriage recognized by my church.
It's a wonderful feeling to be accepted. Somewhere in heaven Jesus is saying "now stop persecuting the homos and start feeding the hungry!"
Thursday, August 20, 2009
A Week and Five Days!!
Finally some good weather! It took freakin long enough for it to get here, but it's here and it is glorious, but it is going away on Sunday so I'm hanging on to it with every fiber of my being.
We're going to... you guessed it... PTOWN! this weekend! I'm so excited. I love nowhere else on this Earth the way that I love Provincetown. I'm sure there will be pictures after the weekend.
Two weeks from today I'll be in London, and I will have been there for two days! It's so surreal... I can hardly believe that just a few months ago studying abroad was a fleeting thought and now all of a sudden it's here and it's real and my suitcases are empty and glaring at me from across the room (they're saying "Rachel, you really can't put off packing us much longer..."). I'm going to miss everyone from home so much, and all of my college friends. A lot of my friends are seniors this year and I'm missing one whole half of their senior year. I'm missing four months of my little kitten's young life. I'm missing my one year anniversary with Hillary, apartment hunting and quality time.
I'm not too concerned about missing our one year because Hill knows that I love her and that every moment we have together is a gift, months and years don't matter, rather the most important aspect is the amount of love and happiness that fills those months and years. I'll miss her sleep breathing and setting the alarm clock fifteen minutes later and pulling her in to my arms for just a little bit longer. I'll miss playing with her hair on car rides while she drives. I'll miss climbing mountains with her and visiting my nieces and nephew with her and going out to dinner and holding hands under the table and going to the movies and putting my arm around her and letting her head rest on my shoulder. I'll probably even miss arguing with her over trivial things, things I only pick fights about because I know in the end she will still love me, if I thought for a minute she would stop loving me I would never argue about anything. She's a one of a kind kinda girl, and this is a one of a kind kinda love.
I'll miss all my friends from home, but I always miss them anyways. Kate and Natasha are so wrapped up in school and their new lives that I hardly ever see them anyway. I feel kind of like they don't appreciate the fact that I'm going to be 3,000 miles away for nearly four months and that they won't see me or likely talk to me for that amount of time. But I supposed, at this stage in our lives, I'm really only of use to them when they're home from school (if I'm home from school at the same time). I'll send them a postcard or two, but they won't understand that I miss them and that I love them, because they don't miss me and I'd venture to say that they don't love me anymore. It's all growing up though, I s'pose.
Molly and Rob and Jaime are all different stories. Rob and Jaime work all the time, and it's difficult to coordinate hanging out with them. I do feel, though, that they miss me when I'm not around and that they love me and that they appreciate the distance and length of time I will be away. Molly is the one person out of all of my friends from home who I am sure will miss me and appreciates that I will be gone for a long time and that I will be virtually unreachable a great deal of the time. If I retain a relationship with any of these people, I believe Molly will be the one with whom I still have a strong relationship in the coming years, even when I move to MA.
I'll miss my family, even though I don't see them as often as I would like, at least I know that if I need anything they are a phone call away for the most part. I visited my grandmother on Nantucket last Friday, and even though my grandmother remembers me as a 13 year old, she does recognize me (although she is shocked that I am as tall as I am, since the last time she remembers seeing me I was in rollerblades and overalls, speeding around the parking lot in her retirement community), but it's incredibly depressing to have a member of your family with Alzheimers. I needed to see her, though, because the last time I saw her was Thanksgiving two years ago, and if she were to die while I was in London I would never forgive myself for not seeing her in two years.
My mother will be the one who misses me the most, I am sure. She likes to pretend that she is okay without me, and she is, but I know she misses me and my crazy antics and she will find it strange that I don't call her in the afternoons when I know she is headed home just so we can shoot the breeze for a few minutes. She'll have difficulty not driving to my school on Saturday afternoons to pick me up and take me out to dinner or to take the T in the Boston with me to go to a museum. She'll worry about me constantly until my feet are planted safely on the ground on December 20th at Logan. It makes me feel good to know that she cares, but at the same time I worry that I am the cause of her suddenly more grey hair.
I'll try to blog often while I'm in Europe, and I'll try to have significantly more pictures than I usually do. This is the chance of a lifetime, I'm so glad to have this wonderful opportunity and I can't wait to share my experiences with everyone!
We're going to... you guessed it... PTOWN! this weekend! I'm so excited. I love nowhere else on this Earth the way that I love Provincetown. I'm sure there will be pictures after the weekend.
Two weeks from today I'll be in London, and I will have been there for two days! It's so surreal... I can hardly believe that just a few months ago studying abroad was a fleeting thought and now all of a sudden it's here and it's real and my suitcases are empty and glaring at me from across the room (they're saying "Rachel, you really can't put off packing us much longer..."). I'm going to miss everyone from home so much, and all of my college friends. A lot of my friends are seniors this year and I'm missing one whole half of their senior year. I'm missing four months of my little kitten's young life. I'm missing my one year anniversary with Hillary, apartment hunting and quality time.
I'm not too concerned about missing our one year because Hill knows that I love her and that every moment we have together is a gift, months and years don't matter, rather the most important aspect is the amount of love and happiness that fills those months and years. I'll miss her sleep breathing and setting the alarm clock fifteen minutes later and pulling her in to my arms for just a little bit longer. I'll miss playing with her hair on car rides while she drives. I'll miss climbing mountains with her and visiting my nieces and nephew with her and going out to dinner and holding hands under the table and going to the movies and putting my arm around her and letting her head rest on my shoulder. I'll probably even miss arguing with her over trivial things, things I only pick fights about because I know in the end she will still love me, if I thought for a minute she would stop loving me I would never argue about anything. She's a one of a kind kinda girl, and this is a one of a kind kinda love.
I'll miss all my friends from home, but I always miss them anyways. Kate and Natasha are so wrapped up in school and their new lives that I hardly ever see them anyway. I feel kind of like they don't appreciate the fact that I'm going to be 3,000 miles away for nearly four months and that they won't see me or likely talk to me for that amount of time. But I supposed, at this stage in our lives, I'm really only of use to them when they're home from school (if I'm home from school at the same time). I'll send them a postcard or two, but they won't understand that I miss them and that I love them, because they don't miss me and I'd venture to say that they don't love me anymore. It's all growing up though, I s'pose.
Molly and Rob and Jaime are all different stories. Rob and Jaime work all the time, and it's difficult to coordinate hanging out with them. I do feel, though, that they miss me when I'm not around and that they love me and that they appreciate the distance and length of time I will be away. Molly is the one person out of all of my friends from home who I am sure will miss me and appreciates that I will be gone for a long time and that I will be virtually unreachable a great deal of the time. If I retain a relationship with any of these people, I believe Molly will be the one with whom I still have a strong relationship in the coming years, even when I move to MA.
I'll miss my family, even though I don't see them as often as I would like, at least I know that if I need anything they are a phone call away for the most part. I visited my grandmother on Nantucket last Friday, and even though my grandmother remembers me as a 13 year old, she does recognize me (although she is shocked that I am as tall as I am, since the last time she remembers seeing me I was in rollerblades and overalls, speeding around the parking lot in her retirement community), but it's incredibly depressing to have a member of your family with Alzheimers. I needed to see her, though, because the last time I saw her was Thanksgiving two years ago, and if she were to die while I was in London I would never forgive myself for not seeing her in two years.
My mother will be the one who misses me the most, I am sure. She likes to pretend that she is okay without me, and she is, but I know she misses me and my crazy antics and she will find it strange that I don't call her in the afternoons when I know she is headed home just so we can shoot the breeze for a few minutes. She'll have difficulty not driving to my school on Saturday afternoons to pick me up and take me out to dinner or to take the T in the Boston with me to go to a museum. She'll worry about me constantly until my feet are planted safely on the ground on December 20th at Logan. It makes me feel good to know that she cares, but at the same time I worry that I am the cause of her suddenly more grey hair.
I'll try to blog often while I'm in Europe, and I'll try to have significantly more pictures than I usually do. This is the chance of a lifetime, I'm so glad to have this wonderful opportunity and I can't wait to share my experiences with everyone!
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
At Least I'm Enjoying the Ride
Lots of stuff has been going on since I last blogged. I s'pose I'll begin at the beginning (as Julie Andrews [the human, not the cat] would say: let's start at the very beginning, a very good place to start...).
A week ago Monday Hillary and I climbed 98% of Mt. Monadnock in New Hampshire. Apparently it's the second most climbed mountain in the world, right behind Mt. Fugi in Japan (totally going there at some point in my life). It was absolutely beautiful and so worth every ounce of sweat and every curse that slipped out of my lips the following day when my knees felt like they were going to give out. We couldn't finish climbing because there is a sheer rock face about, maybe 200 feet from the summit, and I knew I could get up, but getting down is the hard part.
You gotta get up to get down.
So we were content with getting as far as we got (and we made it sooooo far) and then climbing back down. We also didn't have enough water, which was a major concern. I actually ended up filling up my bottle at a stream (despite Hillary's warnings that I would get parasites. It's been a week, still no parasites and that water was darn good).
That's the trail... oi vey
A rock in the shape of a heart :)
Nature
A breathtaking view, even if it's a few hundred feet from the top
Later in the week we had to bring some family members up to upstate New York (we're not talking Albany or Syracuse here, we're talking borderline Canada, where some of the towns speak French) to retrieve their vehicle which had been being serviced for over a month. No one else in the family would do it, and what's family for if not to be there when you need them most? It was an extremely long day though, we started the journey at 8 am from where they were staying in MA and didn't get off the road until close to 11 pm that night. We took breaks for meals and stretches but mainly we just drove and drove... which is entirely too exhausting for my liking.
Over the weekend, Hillary and I went up to Maine to visit with her friend and her friend's boyfriend. It ended up that her friend's boyfriend's family was headed to the family cabin in the woods that weekend, so we tagged along and had a pretty awesome time. The cabin had no electricity or running water, it was mainly a place to sleep. There was an outhouse a bit away from the cabin. The cabin was entirely in the woods, surrounded by trees and a huge beautiful crystal clear lake bordered by mountains and rolling hills. There was no one around, no other campers and no cabins at all, just us, the sound of the water hitting the pebbles on the shore and the loons calling to each other. Hillary and I stayed in a tent in the woods and fell asleep to the loons and the crickets. It was wonderful to be unplugged for a while, to just enjoy being together and being surrounded by new friends and just relaxing for a bit. AND on the way home we stopped at LL Bean in Freeport, which was very cool, though super overwhelming. Still, a very cool store and definitely worth the experience. Give me the catalogue anyday though.
Now I'm mainly in London mode, trying to figure out what I need, what I have, what I can get when I'm there and what I should bring, etc. No big trips this weekend, except up to see my grandmother on Nantucket on Friday (which I'm not very comfortable with at the moment, since the Kennedys will be swarming the place and we'll have to avoid heavy traffic times at all cost) and to see some fireworks with Hill Saturday night. Summer is really starting to wind down now, and I can't say as though that makes me sad, though this is my last real summer of freedom. I'm so excited for adventure and the unknown, London will be a great adventure, I can hardly wait.
A week ago Monday Hillary and I climbed 98% of Mt. Monadnock in New Hampshire. Apparently it's the second most climbed mountain in the world, right behind Mt. Fugi in Japan (totally going there at some point in my life). It was absolutely beautiful and so worth every ounce of sweat and every curse that slipped out of my lips the following day when my knees felt like they were going to give out. We couldn't finish climbing because there is a sheer rock face about, maybe 200 feet from the summit, and I knew I could get up, but getting down is the hard part.
You gotta get up to get down.
So we were content with getting as far as we got (and we made it sooooo far) and then climbing back down. We also didn't have enough water, which was a major concern. I actually ended up filling up my bottle at a stream (despite Hillary's warnings that I would get parasites. It's been a week, still no parasites and that water was darn good).
That's the trail... oi vey
A rock in the shape of a heart :)
Nature
A breathtaking view, even if it's a few hundred feet from the top
Later in the week we had to bring some family members up to upstate New York (we're not talking Albany or Syracuse here, we're talking borderline Canada, where some of the towns speak French) to retrieve their vehicle which had been being serviced for over a month. No one else in the family would do it, and what's family for if not to be there when you need them most? It was an extremely long day though, we started the journey at 8 am from where they were staying in MA and didn't get off the road until close to 11 pm that night. We took breaks for meals and stretches but mainly we just drove and drove... which is entirely too exhausting for my liking.
Over the weekend, Hillary and I went up to Maine to visit with her friend and her friend's boyfriend. It ended up that her friend's boyfriend's family was headed to the family cabin in the woods that weekend, so we tagged along and had a pretty awesome time. The cabin had no electricity or running water, it was mainly a place to sleep. There was an outhouse a bit away from the cabin. The cabin was entirely in the woods, surrounded by trees and a huge beautiful crystal clear lake bordered by mountains and rolling hills. There was no one around, no other campers and no cabins at all, just us, the sound of the water hitting the pebbles on the shore and the loons calling to each other. Hillary and I stayed in a tent in the woods and fell asleep to the loons and the crickets. It was wonderful to be unplugged for a while, to just enjoy being together and being surrounded by new friends and just relaxing for a bit. AND on the way home we stopped at LL Bean in Freeport, which was very cool, though super overwhelming. Still, a very cool store and definitely worth the experience. Give me the catalogue anyday though.
Now I'm mainly in London mode, trying to figure out what I need, what I have, what I can get when I'm there and what I should bring, etc. No big trips this weekend, except up to see my grandmother on Nantucket on Friday (which I'm not very comfortable with at the moment, since the Kennedys will be swarming the place and we'll have to avoid heavy traffic times at all cost) and to see some fireworks with Hill Saturday night. Summer is really starting to wind down now, and I can't say as though that makes me sad, though this is my last real summer of freedom. I'm so excited for adventure and the unknown, London will be a great adventure, I can hardly wait.
Monday, July 6, 2009
For When I Am Weak, Then I Am Strong
Met the new baby today, she is absolutely gorgeous and hopefully pictures will be coming shortly (I forgot my camera and had to rely on Hill and she can't upload them until tomorrow, alas). She's such a good baby too, she sleeps all the time and she isn't very fussy (unlike her brother and sister were when they were infants, oi). The other kids seem to be doing well with her, so everything is right with the world for the time being :)
I have a consultation with an oral surgeon regarding my wisdom teeth tomorrow. They aren't really coming in (that we can tell) but they are a bit painful and the one of the top right is coming in at a funny angle (it's jutting out to my cheek, bad news bears) and both of them have no tooth opposite them to stop them from taking over my mouth, so basically they have got to go. The concensus is, they should probably go in this country and not when I am gallavanting around Europe for a semester. So tomorrow the surgeon will hopefully say, no worries no surgeury you'll be fine, cross your fingers for me at 3:30 tomorrow afternoon please.
This was one of the readings from church last week, I thought it was particularly appropriate because the "thorn in the flesh" that St. Paul references can be taken in many different contexts. However, the message is the same no matter what your "thorn in the flesh" might be. God gives us thorns in order to make us weak, because when we are weak He is most strong and most relied upon. If we were all strong and happy and unquestioning, God wouldn't need to exist because everything would be perfect. God exists to make sure that we can handle our weaknesses, and to become better people as a result of our weaknesses. Embrace your weaknesses, they are truly what make you strong.
2 Cor. 12:7-10 "And because of the surpassing greatness of the revelations, for this reason, to keep me from exalting myself, there was given unto me a thorn in the flesh, a messenger of Satan to buffet me, in order to keep me from exalting myself. Concerning this I entreated the Lord three times that it might depart from me. And He has said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for power is perfected in weakness.' Most gladly, then, I will rather boast about my weaknesses, that the power of Christ may dwell in me. Thus, I am well content with weaknesses, with insults, with distresses, with persecutions, with difficulties, for Christ's sake; for when I am weak, then I am strong."
I have a consultation with an oral surgeon regarding my wisdom teeth tomorrow. They aren't really coming in (that we can tell) but they are a bit painful and the one of the top right is coming in at a funny angle (it's jutting out to my cheek, bad news bears) and both of them have no tooth opposite them to stop them from taking over my mouth, so basically they have got to go. The concensus is, they should probably go in this country and not when I am gallavanting around Europe for a semester. So tomorrow the surgeon will hopefully say, no worries no surgeury you'll be fine, cross your fingers for me at 3:30 tomorrow afternoon please.
This was one of the readings from church last week, I thought it was particularly appropriate because the "thorn in the flesh" that St. Paul references can be taken in many different contexts. However, the message is the same no matter what your "thorn in the flesh" might be. God gives us thorns in order to make us weak, because when we are weak He is most strong and most relied upon. If we were all strong and happy and unquestioning, God wouldn't need to exist because everything would be perfect. God exists to make sure that we can handle our weaknesses, and to become better people as a result of our weaknesses. Embrace your weaknesses, they are truly what make you strong.
2 Cor. 12:7-10 "And because of the surpassing greatness of the revelations, for this reason, to keep me from exalting myself, there was given unto me a thorn in the flesh, a messenger of Satan to buffet me, in order to keep me from exalting myself. Concerning this I entreated the Lord three times that it might depart from me. And He has said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for power is perfected in weakness.' Most gladly, then, I will rather boast about my weaknesses, that the power of Christ may dwell in me. Thus, I am well content with weaknesses, with insults, with distresses, with persecutions, with difficulties, for Christ's sake; for when I am weak, then I am strong."
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Updates updates updates
I'm going to London!! Fall semester '09 I'll be studying abroad in London! I got the paperwork in earlier this week and I found out yesterday that I've been approved to study abroad! Now all I have to do is get my course list approved by my advisor and I'm all set. Move in day is September 3, and the last day in the dorms is December 20. I'm so excited!!
I go to Disney with my friends in 15 days. We leave March 8 and come home March 13. It's probably going to be the best time of my life. My beautiful girlfriend, my best friend at school Alycia, and a bunch of my other friends from school, all in the happiest place on Earth causing a ruckus.
I have, unfortunately, somewhat quit lacrosse. Quit isn't the right word because I still hang around with the girls and play whenever I get the chance, but I can't show up regularly because I have far too many commitments as it is. I still love to play, and there is nothing like running around with balls and sticks, but it can't be my main focus.
Running the GSA has turned into a full time job. We're selling t-shirts (which I helped design along with my co-partner Alycia and our advisor) and I decided we should decrease the price to $5 so that people would actually buy them, but we need to make up the difference, so we had a bake sale at a dance show on campus this weekend. The grand total comes to somewhere in the neighbourhood of $430, which is much more than I was anticipating. And I've been baking all weekend (well, since Wednesday actually) so I'm pretty exhausted. But I think I can claim the title Domestic Goddess at this point in time, so I'm pleased. I've never helped bake so many brownies, cookies, and cupcakes in my life.
I've been recruited to help start a Psychology Club at school. I was straight forward and told the club advisor that I would not be president, but if I have to have a position because I'm helping to start it, I'll be treasurer. I over extend myself too much and I need something easier and less demanding in my life.
I've also had a slight change of heart in terms of my career goals. I want to be a psychologist in some capacity, and I want to get my PhD, but I am at this point thinking that I will be going to seminary straight out of undergrad. I need to begin the talks with my pastor regarding ordination (which would be my ultimate goal). The only issue I see is that the Lutheran Church, although we are tolerant of the gays and openly ordain the gays, homosexual pastors must abstain from homosexual relationships after ordination. That's gonna be a huge nay, and I'm hoping there is a loop hole I can discover. I'll figure something out, or I'll become an Episcopalian. Or I'll get my doctorate of divinity and teach religion and philosophy courses. I suppose we'll see how things go, but at this point in time I feel very drawn to service in the church, not that I haven't always but it feels particularly strong right now.
So my life is pretty chaotic and exciting right now, but most lives are chaotic and exciting, right? Hope everyone is doing very well out there in this great big world.
I go to Disney with my friends in 15 days. We leave March 8 and come home March 13. It's probably going to be the best time of my life. My beautiful girlfriend, my best friend at school Alycia, and a bunch of my other friends from school, all in the happiest place on Earth causing a ruckus.
I have, unfortunately, somewhat quit lacrosse. Quit isn't the right word because I still hang around with the girls and play whenever I get the chance, but I can't show up regularly because I have far too many commitments as it is. I still love to play, and there is nothing like running around with balls and sticks, but it can't be my main focus.
Running the GSA has turned into a full time job. We're selling t-shirts (which I helped design along with my co-partner Alycia and our advisor) and I decided we should decrease the price to $5 so that people would actually buy them, but we need to make up the difference, so we had a bake sale at a dance show on campus this weekend. The grand total comes to somewhere in the neighbourhood of $430, which is much more than I was anticipating. And I've been baking all weekend (well, since Wednesday actually) so I'm pretty exhausted. But I think I can claim the title Domestic Goddess at this point in time, so I'm pleased. I've never helped bake so many brownies, cookies, and cupcakes in my life.
I've been recruited to help start a Psychology Club at school. I was straight forward and told the club advisor that I would not be president, but if I have to have a position because I'm helping to start it, I'll be treasurer. I over extend myself too much and I need something easier and less demanding in my life.
I've also had a slight change of heart in terms of my career goals. I want to be a psychologist in some capacity, and I want to get my PhD, but I am at this point thinking that I will be going to seminary straight out of undergrad. I need to begin the talks with my pastor regarding ordination (which would be my ultimate goal). The only issue I see is that the Lutheran Church, although we are tolerant of the gays and openly ordain the gays, homosexual pastors must abstain from homosexual relationships after ordination. That's gonna be a huge nay, and I'm hoping there is a loop hole I can discover. I'll figure something out, or I'll become an Episcopalian. Or I'll get my doctorate of divinity and teach religion and philosophy courses. I suppose we'll see how things go, but at this point in time I feel very drawn to service in the church, not that I haven't always but it feels particularly strong right now.
So my life is pretty chaotic and exciting right now, but most lives are chaotic and exciting, right? Hope everyone is doing very well out there in this great big world.
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