Sex (Appeal) in the City

I believe that in the same way someone can be attracted to a person, they can be attracted to a place. And in the same way one can’t be held accountable or necessarily even explain why they are attracted to a person, sometimes you have a hard time figuring out why you’re drawn to a place. This “city sex appeal” happened to me in Amsterdam. It’s partially because of this immediate infatuation that I haven’t yet blogged about my trip to Amsterdam, despite the fact that it’s one of the first places I visited in Europe.

So I noticed that it's been over a month since my last blog post.

All I can say is: wow. I can't believe it's been a whole month. That being said, I can't believe I've been an ex-patriot for 5 months. Time has stopped making much sense to me outside of so-and-so is leaving in two days etc. The most frightening acknowledgment of time is that I leave in two weeks. Back to the reality and responsibility of work, school (because who am I kidding when i say I'm "studying abroad"?) family, and relationships that last more than five months. And as my extended vacation draws to a close, I have inevitably been thinking about what my time in London has been worth. Not just because in order to get credit for this semester, I have to write a paper about this, but also because reflection is one of those habits people stumble into when they're about to make a big change in their life.

No memorial in Berlin dedicated to the Jewish people who died during the Holocaust will be uncontroversial. In fact, a lot of people will hate it.

I, however, found the Holocaust Memorial built by Peter Eisenman and Buro Happold provocative and moving. My hostel tour group was brought there one gray Tuesday afternoon. The tour guide gave a brief blurb of information and then allowed us to explore.

A List of Lessons Learned in London (that don't deserve their own blogpost)

1. Tea shops need more than one bathroom stall.

2. There's a law that says a business isn't allowed to stay open for more than 6 hours on Sunday, with the exception of Tesco, which is always 24 hours regardless of outdated Christian laws.

3. Meal Deals are life-savers (2 pound 50 for a sandwich, drink, and chips)

4. Don't bother trying to convert pounds to dollars. The amount of money you're spending will drive you crazy if you think too hard about it.

5. London is expensive.

The Middle

The Missourian writer “Mark Twain,” (or Samuel Clemens), could be easily recognized by admirers on the East Coast by his wardrobe: a bear skin coat and coon cap. Of course, no sane person in Missouri would ever have worn this outfit, but Samuel Clemens embraced the stereotype that the high society readers from New York or Boston held about Westerners. About a hundred years before Twain, Ben Franklin performed the same charade for the Frenchmen who believed all Americans were rugged outdoorsmen.

Now, I wouldn’t go so far as to say that people in London are surprised I’m not wearing a raccoon on my head, but I have had to come to terms with the fact that a person from the Midwest is held under certain stereotypes.

Failing London: A Tale of Two Sisters

My sister came to visit me in London for her Spring Break. On the bus from the airport, she informed me that all of her friends were so jealous because they were only going to Cancun or Miami for spring break, and she was going to Europe! I was very pleased that I could provide my sister with such a envy-inducing trip. I had long been planning on taking her on what I called the "Winning London Tour," which covered all the sites that Mary Kate and Ashley Olsen visit in their movie "Winning London."

Eating Noodles with Buddha: A Vienna Encounter

Things happen for a reason.

It's important to tell yourself this when you're getting screamed at. The Nachmarket vendors are very unsympathetic towards tired tourists who sit at their tables without buying things from their stands. So my friends and I were forced to take our noodles elsewhere.

We settled on a train bridge near the market and ate in silence. We had spent the past 58 hours together and believed there was nothing left to be said. After a couple of minutes we were joined by a stranger, an attractive backpacker in his late 20s or early 30s. He was also eating under similar banished-by-the-vendor circumstances and to make the proximity less awkward, he introduced himself. Name: Gregor. Nationality: German. Occupation: Musician. Status: In a serious relationship. This last detail was a slight disappointment to my friends and I, however at that time we were all going though some pretty heavy and diverse relationship issues, so it was refreshing to talk to a guy whose main intention was casual company rather than sleazy flirting. Admittedly, the reason we were so keen to make conversation with the stranger was because he was good looking. The sad but oh-so-true reality is that people are more likely to trust you if you're attractive.

The Importance of Being Earnest in My Defense of Oscar Wilde's Tomb

While wandering around Paris, my friend mentioned that we weren't far from Oscar Wilde's tombstone, and since our hopes of going into the catacombs had just been squashed by an enormous line, we were provided with the perfect opportunity to visit Mr. Wilde.

Some important things before I continue: First, The Picture of Dorian Gray is one of my favorite books and I have seen The Importance of Being Earnest several times. Second, as a writer I still hold on to the delusion that authors can be celebrities like Oscar Wilde (or Byron or J.K. Rowling, to name a few). Lastly, you may know that Oscar Wilde's grave is covered in lipstick, because it is tradition to kiss his tombstone.

An Apology From This Innocent Bystander

Dear Reader,

I've recieved a lot of complaints from friends and family, expressing their disappointment that I have not written a single blog post in over two months. Let me first apologize for the suspense. I hope your frustration has not lead you to give up on our technological relationship, and I certainly dread the idea that you have imagined me dead, ill, or simply too depressed to write. Quite the contrary. I have found myself so flooded with new experiences that every attempt to write them down has resulted in a disappointment in my own story telling. I find myself overwhelmed by recent events that a monstrous writers block has devoured all creativity.

Hard Times Come And Go: Making Friends Part II

Yesterday, I made my first British friend.

There are probably a good amount of my readers who will think this is no big deal. After all, I am living in London, going to a British school, and living with British students, so common logic dictates that I would have made dozens of friends with British accents and habits. Sadly, that's not the case.

I've come to the conclusion that London is a very introverted city. Having grown up in the suburbs, I have no way to know if this applies to all cities, and the fact may be amplified by the fact that I came to London on my own and have taken the time to notice the habits of strangers. London is known as a very literary and music-oriented place, but even people who forget to bring their newspapers or iPods to their respective buses and cafes would rather look at their shoes than at other people.

Inconceivable! : A Weekend in Scotland

My trip to Scotland began without a voice.

The night before, I went out with my Australian friends to celebrate "Australian Day," otherwise known as Let's Drink and Scream Along to ACDC Day. Such activity made it possible to sleep during the five hour train ride to Edinburgh. I even had the luxury of occupying two seats, because no one in my study abroad program wanted to sit by me.

I took this as a compliment, because I couldn't stand anyone in my study abroad program. All but four of the thirty are girls, and the ones I'd attempted to talk to aspire to be like stars on Paris Hilton Reality TV Shows. They were not so much interested in anything I have to say, but more preoccupied with their own petty opinions about clubs and eyebrow threading. Of the four boys, three of them were in relationships with girls from the study abroad program, and one was just as bad as any Lindsey Lohan wannabe.

Harsh? The truth hurts.

High Society

If you search "Harrods" on Google, the first available link is entitled: "Harrods: Luxury Beauty and Fragrance." This is the sort of reputation I was aware of before my venture to this glorified department store. In preparation for the event, I dressed in my finest clothes (the only really nice things I brought with me to London): a sweater dress I recently wore to my cousin's wedding and a posh pair of boots.

I looked good. (Trust me, I'm not being vain. I am allowed to claim such things when I'm in desperate need of a saving grace in the following situation).

My Modern Life

So I hit up Tate Modern today.

Ideally, when visiting a contemporary art museum, one must choose their companions carefully. The last thing you want is someone who spouts off text book chapters at every single painting/sculpture/toilet, or someone who hates modern art because their "dog could do that." You need someone with enough imagination to appreciate some works and laugh at others. Someone who will come up to a piece you've been staring at for hours and casually point out something you hadn't even noticed, which completely changes how you view the work.

Get Outta London

It's important to remember that the UK is not London. I recently had this wake up call when I went on a day trip with some mates (that's what they call "friends" here, rather than the American translation for "sexual partners"). Although one of my friends had been planning this trip since the day he got here, as is his tradition in all of his activities, I jumped on the bandwagon last minute. Even had to take a forty minute bus ride the night before we left to print out my ticket. Waste of time really; they let you print them off at the bus station.

!"£%£$^&^%"!(!*!?

NO COMPUTER?!?!

That's right, kids. My computer would not turn on this morning.

In the past, I've only had one real computer meltdown incident. The graphics went bazonkers and I couldn't watch youtube videos and everything--font, icons, etc.--looked fat, and everytime it tipped to the side a crinkling, crash-type noise would erupt from the laptop's inner workings. This all happened a year ago (today?...sheesh), and rather than bring it to the "professionals" at my college, I brought it to a friend, who played with the bells and whistles inside for about two hours before announcing that there was nothing he could do. I never got around to bringing it anywhere else, because I could still use most of the necessities: Microsoft Word, Facebook, email etc. And one day my lovely laptop decided to fix itself.

Search for a Solution to a Solitary State

I'd like to disclaim some rumors that I probably started with my last blog post, "Spending in London." I'm not stumbling around miserably in London. I had a few short hiccups with public transportation at the very beginning of my journey.

It's easy to get bummed out when you're in a foreign country by yourself. It's easy to write a pessimistic blog about it. Before I begin, let me just say: this isn't a pessimistic blog post.

The first day here, I was so jet lagged and focused on getting registered for classes that I basically collapsed in my bed without giving London much of a second thought. Second day comes around and suddenly I'm well rested (12 hours rested to be specific) and eager for company.

Spending in London

When preparing for this trip, I sat down with my parents and we tried to figure out what I would spend my money on. There was tuition and the flight to England, obviously, which made up the bulk of my budget, but everything not included in tuition was also discussed at length: food, travel within and outside of London, bedding, kitchen supplies, school books...many things made it on that list.

So far, none of these things (save tuition) have made it to my number one spending commodity: mistakes. I've only been in London two days and I've already spent more on my mistakes than four times food, travel, and other objects.

A Short Introduction

Here's the question everyone's been asking lately:

"Are you ready for your trip?"

"Ready" is a strong word. I have a long list of insecurities and apprehensions concerning my first trip abroad (by myself...for six months).  Here are a few of the things I'm worried about:

1. I've only been on a plane once, and that was with my high school Spanish class, so I didn't have to worry about silly things like getting on the right plane. And we didn't go to the Atlanta airport. This latter statement didn't bother me until the response to my saying "I switch planes in Atlanta" was unanimous cringing.