A Semester Abroad

not a penny to my name, but full of stories I am

Remember when I used to update this? Ah well, I did better than I thought I was going to.

I’ve done quite a bit since spring break, which I last wrote about. I’ve been to Brighton, Milan, Venice, Rome, Liverpool, Glasgow, Edinburgh, Leeds, and a tiny town in Switzerland for an hour. I’ve met James McAvoy and seen Romeo & Juliet at the opening day of The Globe; I’ve seen the inside of the Apollo 10 command module and attended an event to rescue child soldiers in Uganda; I’ve written papers and been the bowling champion among 17 fellow students, which speaks for the bowling talent to be found at Wood Green Halls. I’ve been to museums and aquariums, ruins and monuments, concerts and theatres…and I still think my favorite moments involved walking down a rather dull suburban street called Penny Lane or watching a band cover “Revolution” inside the Cavern Club. In any case, in the last month and a half, I’ve been a lot of amazing places. Maybe I’ll go back and write about them, but knowing my laziness it’s more likely that I’ll just tell people individually. We’ll see.

I leave London tomorrow. Today, actually, since it’s 1 a.m. I have to wake up in 6 hours (less by the time I actually get through this) and I’m not even completely packed. Mostly, but not completely. I’ve had to throw out a towel and most of my socks to make room for the amount of souvenirs, presents, and books I’ve accumulated over the last five months. I don’t really know what to say about my last hours in London except that I’m so incredibly grateful that I had the opportunity to live on the other side of the Atlantic for five months, though it felt like no more than two. It’s been the best period of my life thus far (rivaled only by summer of 2007!) and I know that I will look back on it with fondness and nostalgia forever. My parting now is bittersweet. Maybe a little more on the bitter. I can’t imagine leaving this city without the knowledge that I will ever return. It didn’t really hit me until this evening but since then I’ve pretty much been watching A Hard Day’s Night and crying to Beatles songs. I am, however, excited to be back stateside, mostly because of my favorite Bells — Taco and Blue — but I guess seeing my family will be all right as well. ;)

I don’t quite know how to sum up my feelings any better than that, unfortunately, except to leave you with some photos from my last week or so in the greatest city in the world (many of which look strikingly similar to pictures from my first week here) and say that if anyone reading this takes a trip to the UK….take me with you?

LA and Dallas what what

Underground WWII Cabinet Rooms

You can’t fight in here, this is the war room

Winston’s

Back to The Globe for As You Like It

Again to Regent’s!

Ian McKellen you look homeless, so it’s good that your character is homeless.

Typical London, cloudy and under construction

Hyde in the rain

The best picture of Jude Law ever taken ever.

Goodbye for now, London. You will be missed dearly.

Isn’t it pretty to think so?

Part 4: Central Spain!

Sooo we got into Madrid at stupid o’clock in the morning, watching the sun rise and the fog disperse as we left the train station and took the Metro to our hostel. Joke was on us, however, because the people at the hostel said we couldn’t check in until 1 in the afternoon (in Spanish, since they didn’t speak any English — again, thank goodness for Manuel), so we had to wander the dead morning streets of Madrid with all of our stuff when all we wanted was a shower and a nap. We took refuge in a coffee shop and then a Dunkin’ Donuts before setting off to wander the town.

First views of Madrid.

Trippyyy.

Plaza Mayor.

Cathedral Almundena.

Cathedral again.

We decided to visit the Palacio Real, one of the biggest palaces in Europe, which was beautiful. And we were able to check our bags, which was quite nice. Palaces and castles always blow my mind, no matter how many I see. The throne room was pretty intense, and they had a whole display of medieval armor which I think is amazing.

Cathedral from the Palacio courtyard.

They also had peacocks, so that was good news.

After we went through the Palacio, we continued our stroll through the city, making our way through Puerta del Sol and over to the Parque del Retiro.

Congress

The park was gorgeous, as I’m finding is usually the case with these huge cities. We didn’t stay that long, however, as we wanted to go back and check into our room. I was so disgustingly exhausted at this point there’s not really words for it.

When we got back to our hostel we found out even better news, in that the new computer program the hostel is using has been having a lot of problems and we didn’t come up in their system for the two nights we booked. However, after some confusion we ended up getting a better deal. We got an entire apartment for the first night which apparently the hostel also rents out without being charged any extra. Which meant our own bathroom, TV, couch. So it all worked out quite well despite the confusion at first. Of course, I had nothing to do with any of this because I couldn’t understand a word they were all saying to each other. I really need to learn more languages.

After we settled into our apartment for the night, had rested and watched some dubbed TV shows, and gotten some Pizza Hut, we hopped on the Metro to go to the one actual sight in Madrid that we knew we had to go to — the Museo de Arte Reina Sofia, home to a lot of great art but above all, Guernica by Picasso.

When we got to the museum we made a beeline straight for the piece, which was by far one of the best pieces of art I’ve ever seen. Whether or not you’re usually a Picasso fan, Guernica is such a huge piece of culture and is much more impressive in person than the Mona Lisa. They had some serious security for it as well, with two museum workers on either side of the painting and an alarm that went off if you got too close to the painting, which went off about every five minutes. Therefore, this is the only sneaker picture I can boast to have gotten:

After we saw Guernica, we wandered around the rest of the museum which has some great pieces. However, it was not the art that ended up getting me excited. I still can’t really think of this day without getting frustrated but it has to be told. One of the rooms in the museum was showing a Buster Keaton short, which of course I sat down to enjoy. Manuel wandered off after a few minutes, and right after I had finished watching the 20 minute film or so I got a text from him that said “Viggo is here by the way.” Uh, what? For a minute I was confused because I know Viggo Mortensen is not only the beautiful, wonderful actor that I have a monster poster and countless fantasies of, but he is also an artist, so I did not know if Manuel meant the man was there or his art was on display. Only a few seconds later, I found Manuel who clarified that YES, THE MAN was in the museum and he had seen him not once, but twice. I don’t know if very many people can appreciate how much my heart race sped up at that moment, but I can assure you it was significant. I was determined to find him, even though Manuel said he slipped down the stairs and seemed to be in a rush, and we split up and searched all four floors…twice…but to no avail. I was in the same building as Viggo Mortensen in MADRID of all places (apparently he is doing a play there this winter), and I was watching a dang Buster Keaton short. Needless to say the rest of my night was spent inwardly fuming at my luck. Ughhh life.

Somehow, life continued, and even though it rained off and on for the majority of the night, Manuel and I still managed to make a night of it, going tapas bar hopping which apparently is THE thing to do in Madrid on a Saturday night because the Latina district was packed and we went to about four tapas bars before ending the night at the San Gines Chocolateria, a back alley place that’s been open for 100+ years and serves the most delicious churros con chocolate. So delicious.

The next day, we took a day trip to Toledo, about an hour south of Madrid. It is the former capital of Spain and is full of history dating all the way back to the Romans, with the old city enclosed within huge walls. Basically the entire city is on a giant hill, which makes it incredibly exhausting to walk about, but it’s such a gorgeous city that it was worth it. It’s a pretty small town, full of convents and monasteries as well as a thriving Jewish quarter. We spent most of the day wandering around and outside the city, not doing much besides taking in the astounding beauty of the ancient city. We paid a Euro each to go into one of the many convents (San Antonio), ate at an outdoor restaurant, and spent most of the day just exploring all the little back alleys and plazas of the city.

Also, every single store sells swords. Apparently Toledo is known for its steel/weapons. I wanted one.

Rebuilt Roman Alcazar.

The city looks fake, it’s so beautiful. It didn’t even look real in person.

One of the many, many convents.

Miguel de Cervantes!

Monastery of San Juan de los Reyes

I also saw the best dog in Spain. And that’s saying a lot. Spanish dogs are about as cool as British dogs, but in a different way. And they’re both much cooler than French dogs.

Mezquita del Cristo de la Luz

I think that gives you an idea of how absolutely gorgeous Toledo is. One of my favorite places I’ve been to, and I feel like I say that about everything, but I mean it.

That night, we got back to Madrid, finally got into our normal hostel room, and after taking a break in our room, went back out into the night to grab a late night bite to eat at another bar/restaurant that was one of Hemingway’s favorites, which is how I make my decisions about where to go.

Centre of Spain.

Hemingway haunt, where I got a lovely sandwich.

The next day, our last in the Madrid area, we took another day trip (more like half day trip) to Segovia, about an hour north of the capital. Before we did, however, Manuel went to our train station to check our bags in so we wouldn’t have to carry them all day, and I took a quick trip to see the Madrid Temple, which was beautiful and peaceful and I love visiting temples.

The bus ride to Segovia was beautiful, as I’m discovering most of my rides through Europe are.

Segovia, like Toledo, is a small, old typical Spanish town with tons of convents and monasteries, but there are a couple big sights that really draw the tourists in. One is the Roman Aqueducts, which are massive and awesome and mind blowing in terms of how they it is still standing and was actually still in use until fairly recently. Those Romans knew a thing or two.

On the whole, the entire city of Segovia isn’t quite as adorable as Toledo, but it’s up there. And it still has plenty of gorgeous buildings.

The second major tourist attraction in Segovia (and let’s face it, is what made me want to go) is the Alcazar, which is the castle that served as inspiration for Sleeping Beauty’s castle. That’s right, I went to the real Sleeping Beauty castle. Disneyland will be just a cheap imitation after this (that’s not true, Disneyland, I still love you).

Inside of the Alcazar

View of Segovia from the Alcazar’s tower

From the Alcazar, we walked through a bit of a nature walk to get to the Vera Cruz church, which is supposed to be one of the best in the city, to find out it was closed that day. The outside was pretty, anyway.

The rest of the day we wandered around Segovia, got some ice cream (a main course on this trip), and went back to Madrid to hang out for a while before our train back to Barcelona.

When back in Madrid, we decided to go to another Hemingway restaurant, and one of the most famous in Madrid, because I had just finished The Sun Also Rises that day, and it is the restaurant the characters eat in at the end of the novel. Side note: The novel starts in Paris, and I started it on the way to Paris, and it ends in Madrid and I finished it while on a bus from Madrid to Segovia. How adorable is that? On the way to find the restaurant, we also saw this place, which seemed to know exactly what we were doing in that part of town.

However, when we did get to the Botin, we decided it was a little too expensive and classy for us (most dishes were around 20 Euro, but you could also get baby eels for 132 Euros, if anyone is interested in that for their next meal in Madrid).

Instead, we went and ate 1 Euro sandwiches at a nearby place. Love being broke college students.

That night, we took a night train back to Barcelona and only got slightly better sleep than on the way out to Madrid because we knew not to even attempt sleeping in our seats anymore and went straight for the dining car booths.

For our last morning in Spain, we got into Barcelona too early to be functional and had nothing to do for a few hours before catching our flight back to London, so we spent our last hours in Spain sleeping on the Mediterranean coast, which was empty at 8:30 a.m.

That afternoon we caught our bus to the airport and our plane back to London, which I was sooo happy to see after two weeks away. I missed it so much. However, spring break was absolutely incredible and I’m so grateful for all the places I was able to go. I label it a success.

I have a ton of stuff to catch up on in the month since I’ve been back, but that will have to wait because in a few minutes I’m catching a plane to Milan, Italy to go visit the lovely Sarah Rogers at her European home. I’m sooo excited to be in Italy, even if I don’t think I’ll be able to afford to go to Rome, which was a heartbreaker. I’ll see you in a week.

Barcelona sans Vicky, Christina, or Javier Bardem

Okay, part 3 of spring break. Sorry for clogging up your worlds with all these disgustingly long entries, but I’m just trying to get it all out there so my American loves can enjoy.

I got into Barcelona at about 3 and walked to my hostel, the Hip Karma Hostel, which was luckily only a few blocks from the bus station. Let me tell you, it’s definitely as good as its name. Definitely my favorite hostel that I’ve stayed in — everything was super clean and nice, and I felt like I was friends with the staff by the time I left, with the owner Marcelo telling me what to watch on TV at certain times of the day and talking to the the night receptionist about movies. Anyway, after I settled into the hostel, I made the mile and a half walk to the beach, stopping at places along the way and enjoying the beautiful sunshine and city, and all the interesting things along the way. Barcelona is without a doubt one of my favorite places that I have ever been. It’s a big city but feels like a little beach town and everything just seemed so relaxed and happy. Love it. And it was my first time to a beach in five months, which is far too long.

Arc de Triomphe

With all the sunshine, palm trees, and Spanish I felt like I was back home in California. That was all I could think about and it was perfect.

Parc de la Ciutadella

After I had had my fill of Spanish beach volleyball players, I went back to the hostel and ate and hung out, crashing pretty early because I was still exhausted.

The next day, I did the exact same thing, in that I wandered around all day and eventually ended up at the beach. I went to the Barri Gotic, which has the most historical atmosphere and the most beautifully classic architecture, including the cathedral.

After that, I headed down toward Port Vell and the Ramla de Mar. So beautiful.

Capitania General

Columbus monument

Rambla de Mar

And of course, back to the beach!

I wanted to take this stray home so bad.

After eating my own little picnic on the beach and wandering Barceloneta, I went back to Port Vell and then headed down La Rambla, the big shopping street that starts at Columbus and goes into the city, including an amazing farmers market, pet stands, and plenty of street performers.

Placa de Catalunya, at the end of Las Ramblas, and right near my hostel.

I also didn’t really do a whole lot that night, as I was worn out from walking around for hours all day. The next day, Manuel flew in from London, but I thought his flight got in a lot earlier than it did so I didn’t really intend to do anything until he got there. I did however go to the Chocolate Museum, which was delicious. They give you a free bar of chocolate when you buy your ticket and you basically learn about the history of chocolate and see a lot of chocolate sculptures. Love it.

Other than that, I hung out at the park, walked down to the Torre Agbar and back where I chilled at the hostel, doing some studying and preparation for the final exam I had the day after we got back from Spain.

That night when Manuel arrived, we went down Las Ramblas again, got some food on the street, and wandered around the beach before walking back and crashing. I was pretty excited for him to be there if for no other reason than he speaks Spanish. I think I might have died otherwise because I hadn’t even learned enough simple phrases to keep me alive.

The next day was Gaudi day, where we decided to go see some of Antoni Gaudi’s most famous works in the city. They were all pretty amazing. First, we took the bus up to Parc Guell, his fairytale world of a city park.

Hey Barcelona.

Gaudi’s home within the park

While we were there, the clouds rolled in and we went back down the hill and took refuge inside a cafe until the rain cleared up for a few minutes, when we decided to head down to La Sagrada Familia, Gaudi’s elaborate cathedral that has been under construction for over 100 years and is still largely unfinished. We didn’t go inside, but the outside was already too much for me to handle. I’ll go back and see the inside when I’m old and it’s finished. It also started raining again while we were there, and the weather continued to be bipolar all day.

The Passion facade.

The Nativity facade, which is even more trippy.

So beautiful.

Next stop after La Sagrada Familia was Casa Mila, or La Pedrera, the most ridiculous apartment building I’ve ever seen. We did go inside here, which had an exhibit on Gaudi’s life and work in general, and on Casa Mila in general. You could also go through a model apartment as it would have been in Gaudi’s time, and then up to the roof.

No, you’re not on acid.

On our walk back down towards our hostel, we stopped to see Casa Batllo from the outside, our last Gaudi work of the day.

Before I went to Barcelona, I just thought Gaudi had a crazy design sense, but after learning about how he worked and the way that his buildings were designed, he was incredibly talented and innovative, especially in terms of light and the environment. I am a fan.

Also, I saw the biggest bag ever on the way back. I want to live in it.

After Gaudi, we went back down to Barri Gotic so Manuel could see it during the day, watching some pretty awesome street bands and dancing in front of the cathedral on the way.

That night, we went out to some Tapas bars until the wee hours of the morning, which is the best time to go to Tapas bars. It was so much fun and we wandered through the city at night and got ready to check out in the morning before sleep time.

The next day, we had to check out of our hostel, but Marcelo let us keep our stuff there until our train left that night, so we decided to go to Parc de Montjuic, running into ridiculous Barcelona sights on the way.

This ship is so huge. Blows my mind.

We decided to hike up around the park, though I was in flats which was not a good decision for our physical exertion. But they made it. And with every level that we climbed up to, the views got more and more beautiful, until we made it to the Castell de Montjuic. It was an exhausting climb, but it was worth it.

After hanging out at Barceloneta and back at the hostel for a bit, we took a night train from Barcelona to Madrid. Unfortunately, it was not nearly as comfortable as my French night train, and I struggled for hours to get any sleep before finally going to one of the booths in the food carriage and passing out until we got into Madrid at dawn. Which I will write about later. To be continued yet again…

To sum up: I. Love. Barcelona.

I have always depended on the kindness of strangers.

So, to continue…Toulouse. Interesting, interesting day. My night train got into Toulouse before 7 a.m., and since I was only there for one day, I didn’t really have any plans except to wander around and see what there was to see. My bus for Barcelona left the next morning and I didn’t have anywhere to sleep because all the hotels I had looked up were too expensive for me and since I’m somewhat of a night owl anyway I figured I could sleep in the train/bus station, wander the streets, and/or walk to the airport (which looked closer on the map than I think it was in reality) to catch a few winks. However, I was not fully prepared for the amount of rather cold rain that Toulouse was to receive that day. I sat in the train station for a couple hours, waiting for it to die down, and when it didn’t I decided to brave the rain for a little bit and try to see what Toulouse had to offer anyway. I stored my backpack at the station and headed out.

I only got to St. Sernin church less than a mile away before I was so wet, cold, and confused alone in France that I decided to go to the LDS building in Toulouse to dry off and hopefully catch one of the services. I had written down the address since I was planning on going anyway, as it was Easter Sunday, so I walked the 2.5 miles or so in the rain up to the church building.

When I got there, there was a ward already in the first hour of service, which was Relief Society/Priesthood, and I probably looked as confused as I felt because not too long after I got there, I had someone ask me in broken English how I was and if I wanted to come into RS. After a few minutes, they even found someone who spoke enough English to translate the lesson for me, which was more than I hoped for. I stayed for Sunday School and Sacrament Meeting as well. After it was over, I talked to a couple of the American missionaries because I wanted a French Book of Mormon, and one of them asked what I was doing in Toulouse and when he found out I didn’t have anywhere to stay he asked if I wanted help finding somewhere to stay but I said I would be fine.

I walked the mile back to the train station. By this point, my pants and feet were soaked beyond relief, but I had the same problem if I changed into my skirt and tights. It was a losing battle trying to get dry, especially in the train station with no heat. I spent a couple hours sitting in the train station, hoping to get dry — which never happened — watching people, eating m&ms and a baguette, the only food I could afford. Since I didn’t actually know how late the train station was opened, I went to Information and asked in broken French only to find out it closed at 1 a.m., 8 hours before my bus left. So I was wet, frozen, hadn’t showered, had nowhere to sleep, and it was still raining. It was at this point that I started to stress out.

After a while I decided to go back to the church building because my attempts to dry off were futile anyway and I didn’t know where else to go. The afternoon ward was about to start their last hour, which was Relief Society, but I stayed in the hallway. I didn’t have a phone number for anyone to really call and talk to, but I got Manuel to get into my e-mail and find mommy’s phone numbers in Australia, who I called and proceeded to have a breakdown, crying in the bathroom because I didn’t know what I was going to do all night, homeless in the rain, unable to get dry or warm. She at least seemed comforted that I was at the church building, but I was still freaking out. While I was still on the phone, however, 3 sister missionaries came in to use the bathroom and on the way out, one of them asked me how I was. Luckily, she was American so I could talk to her in English about what was going on, and as soon as she and her two French companions heard what was going on, they told me not to worry because they would find me somewhere to stay that night. They took me into Relief Society for the end of the lesson, and within five minutes after it was over, Sister Fukui had found me somewhere to stay, with the ward mission leader Brother Daudruy and his wife, who lived right by the station, and the sisters would take me there themselves later that day. I walked with Sisters Fukui, Royer, and Roca back to the train station (this time with their umbrellas) to get my backpack, and then back to the church because they had a meeting with an investigator who ended up not being able to make it. Instead, I let the two French sisters practice their English on me because they were all going to be teaching an English speaker soon, and then we all walked the mile back down near the station to the Daudruys’s apartment.

The Daudruys, by the way, I think are my favorite people in the world. Brother Daudruy spoke a little bit of English, and Sister Daudruy practically none at all, so it was definitely interesting. They made me dinner — bread, cheese, tomatoes covered with a homemade dressing, homemade fries, ice cream — we watched Man vs. Wild, a show which crosses all cultural boundaries, and anytime there was anything significant to say, Brother Daudruy would use an Internet translator. It was amazing. They lived in a one room apartment, spreading out a mat and sleeping bag for me next to their fold out couch. Sister Fukui had told me that they a while ago he had lost his job and they sold everything they owned to go down to Madrid and get sealed in the temple, and now were about to move into a much bigger place. They were so excited about it. I was exhausted and went to bed super early, and woke up practically at the break of dawn to shower and head out to catch my bus to Barcelona, but not before Sister Daudruy woke up to shove some Nutella snacks into my hand before I left. I will never forget them, they were literally the nicest and warmest people you could imagine, even if we couldn’t speak to each other much. I find it amazing that no matter where you are in the world, you can walk into any LDS church in need and within 10 minutes find someone who is willing to help you out — someone who is willing to house a girl they’ve never met and don’t speak the same language as. I love it so much.

So that was Toulouse for you. I’m pretty sure I’ll remember that Easter Sunday for years to come. I hopped my bus the next day and for the next six and half hours, enjoyed the gorgeous drive through southern France and northern Spain, stopping in Girona for a rest break before we arrived in Barcelona! Spain adventures up next.

you wrote of trains and Paris galleries

Wooooo time to come out of hibernation for a few more long-winded posts about the last month+ of my life! There’s too much to say, so I’ve been procrastinating this post for weeks, but since I’m leaving again in two days, it’s become imperative that I stop indulging in my worst habit. Let’s see if I even remember what happened in my own life.

So, spring break! My first destination was Paris, to visit the lovely Mallory Wall and what France had to offer me.

I took the 2 hour Eurostar train from St. Pancras to Gare du Nord, where my personal tour guide met me and took me back to her adorable little Parisian apartment to drop off my stuff and chill a bit before we headed out on the town to see the sights, starting with the Arc de Triomphe.

Not sure what the ceremony was, except that it was for veterans…Mallory asked one of the musicians who said they do it every day? News to me.

Tomb of the Unknown Soldier

We then took the many many stairs to the top to get some brilliant views of the city. So beautiful.

Champs Elysees

We then walked down the Champs-Elysees; Mallory shopped for a spring coat and we ambled down to the Metro station and took it over to the Eiffel Tower.

We’re down there

We were going to go up to the top, but the line was longer than either of us wanted to wait in, so we just sat and watched it sparkle and enjoyed the beauty before going to see the next Parisian sight by night: Notre Dame.

Center of Paris!

We walked along the Seine and through a bit of the Latin Quarter…I bought an old, beat-up novelization of Close Encounters of the Third Kind in French — or should I say Rencontres du Troisieme Type — for 20 cents. Best souvenir? I think so.

The next day, we decided to go just outside the city to see Versailles, which Mallory hadn’t been to yet. I must day, we did not pick the best day to do so, as it was raining off and on all day and made it incredibly less beautiful than I think it would be in the summer sunshine. However, that did not stop the crowds from turning out in droves, and so we still had to wait in line for over an hour to get our (overpriced) tickets. It was interesting.

boo rain.

That being said, the palace was still wildly elaborate and even though a lot of the gardens still hadn’t bloomed or weren’t open….I could imagine how amazing they would look if it wasn’t raining and gross. ha.

Outdoor ballroom.

And there were sheep. Always a plus.

Grand Trianon

After walking some of the gardens and the Grand Trianon, we decided we were sick of being out in the intermittent rain (and Mallory’s jeans were ruined by the mud) that we just went straight into the Chateau itself, which was pretty much everything you would expect from Versailles: huge, disgustingly elaborate, and crowded. Despite being over priced and with the weather putting a damper on the day, it was still pretty crazy being in Marie Antoinette’s house (along with our favorite Louisss and tons of other monarchs but let’s face it Marie is the most infamous inhabitant of Versailles). So much history.

Hall of Mirrors!

King’s Chambers.

Council Study. How rad would it be to work on a bright blue table?

Queen’s Chambers.

Quite a residence. After we got back into Paris, we tried to go to the Pere Lachaise Cemetery (for my benefit; I can promise you Mallory did not want to hang out there), but they kicked us out to close before we got to any of the good ones, so we went back to her apartment, got food, and bummed around that night.

The next day, Mallory had class, so I took myself around to the places that I knew she wouldn’t be particularly interested in. Luckily I didn’t take the wrong Metro once, and it was so nice to wander the streets of the city and get a feel for places outside the usual tourist spots. It really is an absolutely gorgeous city, and I would love to spend more time in it if I can someday get a hold on the language, because I can tell you that 3 1/2 years of learning it in school did next to nothing for me. I could say “I would like…” but if anyone tried to say anything besides Bonjour or Merci to me, it was over my head. Way too fast to understand a word. Luckily I had Mallory, who’s learned so much more French since she’s been there. I’m kind of jealous that she gets more of a bilingual experience than I do, but at the same time I’m quite grateful to be able to get around in English; even though she’s gotten good enough to get around and get through classes, she said it’s still hard to have a conversation with a native outside of talking about the weather, which I imagine would be frustrating. That’s all beside the point though. Thursday morning I took Mallory’s handy Paris guidebook and saw the former apartment homes of some of my favorites, such as

Jack Kerouac

and Ernest Hemingway.

Then I went back to Pere Lachaise Cemetery, which is quite a beautiful and calm space, despite the fair amount of other tourists there.

I don’t know why but I enjoy cemeteries during the day. I think they’re quite peaceful, and this particular one has a rather high volume of famous and influential inhabitants, hence the tourists. The one that I wanted to go to the cemetery for, and was the first one I visited, was the illustrious Oscar Wilde, who has become quite a running theme in my semester here.

It is tradition for Wilde’s admirers to put on lipstick and kiss his grave, which clearly many, many people have taken a part in. I was planning on buying some lipstick for the occasion myself, since I don’t usually wear it, but in the end I couldn’t be bothered.

On the back, there was a short biography and quote in memorial of Wilde, and all around it, people had written messages: “I love thee,” “Life is too important,” “Oscar, you made me look at the stars,” etc.

I did manage to leave my mark thanks to my trusty Burt’s Bees, on the ‘m’ of ‘mourners’ in the quote on the back of the tomb: “And alien tears will fill for him / Pity’s long broken urn / For his mourners will be outcast men / And outcasts always mourn.”

Wilde’s grave is definitely the most interesting and elaborate of Lachaise’s many celebrities (typical of his character), but I wandered around to almost all the ones that interested me anyway, such as Gertrude Stein and Alice B. Toklas, who are buried together.

There’s also a whole section of the cemetery that is devoted to memorials for various concentration camps from the Holocaust, many of which are beautiful and all of which are heartbreaking.

Overlooking

The most French grave I went to was Edith Piaf, France’s sparrow herself.

And most popular among them all was without a doubt the late, great, Jim Morrison.

Other important people I visited:

Chopin

Jean de La Fontaine

Moliere

Quite a beautiful cemetery and I think overlooked by a lot of people who visit France; I definitely recommend going if visiting graves is your thing; I think we have established that it is mine. After Mallory was finished with class and I was finished at Pere Lachaise, we went to relax in the Jardin du Luxembourg, which is probably one of my favorite places in Paris, because I absolutely love parks. I don’t know if it ranks as high as Hyde Park though; that’s a tough. It has some of the most beautiful flowers I’ve ever seen though.

For some reason, while we were sitting on the grass enjoying our ice cream, there was a parade of costumed children who walked by, and it was adorable. My favorite was the kid dressed as Spiderman who was holding hands with a kid dressed as Venom. I couldn’t handle it; too good.

After relaxing on the one patch of grass you’re allowed to sit on, we continued our action packed day by going to the Musee D’Orsay. For the first time I was able to get in for free with my student card (I will refrain from going off on a tangent about France’s student discount rules), and enjoyed some amazing art in a beautiful building. Manet, Monet, Van Gogh, Renoir, Degas…you know, all my art museum best friends since I’ve been in Europe.

This has been one of my favorite Van Gogh paintings since I was a kid and had a mini puzzle of it that I did all the time. I didn’t even know it was here, so I was pretty stoked. And by stoked I mean I audibly gasped.

There were also great views from the building.

That night, I had every intention of going back to the Eiffel Tower and actually go to the top this time, but as my luck would have it, it was shut because the Tower workers were on strike. Take note: if you ever go to France, they like to strike. A lot. So I just bummed around the Tower and took more pictures and sat in the grass and enjoyed the beauty. You can never have too many.

Too many yet? Oh well.

The next morning, Mallory and I went to Le Select, one of Hemingway’s favorite cafes when he was an expat; I chose this one over the many other Hemingway cafes because I was reading The Sun Also Rises and in the first section of the book, the characters eat there multiple times. It was so fun to be able to go to places that I was reading about at the same time. It was somewhat pricey, however, as all places in Paris seemed to be (I’m pretty sure the London-being-the-most-expensive-city is a complete lie) so I stuck to toast and water like the high class woman I am.

We then went to Les Invalides, a complex of buildings that houses all things military, such as the Army museum and a hospital for veterans.

What we went for however, was in this dome…

…the tomb of the one and only Napoleon Bonaparte, and the most ridiculously over sized tomb/coffin I have ever seen, and proof that the man did indeed have a complex. And a horribly inflated ego.

His tomb was surrounded by stone carvings describing his various achievements. Oh, Napoleon. Oh, France.

After visiting the unbelievable man himself, we wandered through the WWI and WWII exhibits of the Army musuem, which were really interesting. I love seeing how different places emphasize certain aspects of events of the same war, and learning more about each place’s involvement and attitude.

Continually onward and upward, we took the Metro to Montmatre and went to Sacre Coeur, a gorgeous church on a hill that is quite the tourist attraction and unusual church — inside it is quiet and prayerful, but outside there are concerts and carousels.

Montmatre also boasts some beautiful views.

That evening, I went to the Louvre on my own, since it wasn’t worth it to Mallory to go again when she couldn’t get in for free (again with France and their weird prices).

The place is absolutely huge, so I did not get to it all, but I did see some works that completely blew my mind because of how famous they are. It still doesn’t seem real that I have been close to such iconic pieces, but there you have it.

There she is.

Hammurabi’s Code. Blew my mind.

There was quite a crowd in one room, for a certain little painting we all know and love. Or know and don’t love. But either way I felt like I was at a Rocket Summer concert trying to get to the front for a picture.

Sadly, significantly less people turned around to look at this amazing and huge painting of the Wedding Feast at Cana. The tiny little Mona Lisa outdoes them all, as evidenced by her crowd of admirers

It’s so strange how one quite small painting has become such an icon, something more than just a painting and I’m sure greater than anything Da Vinci could have imagined. She was not the end of my journey though, and I continued on to see some other great works

Probably most impressive in terms of pure logistics was Napoleon III’s apartments — yep, the Louvre transplanted Napoleon III’s house into the museum. That might give you an indication of how big the place is.

Also in one of my last rooms, I stumbled upon my favorite Vermeer painting, which I was also so stoked on. There’s so many hidden treasures in a place like this.

After the Louvre, I made my way once again to the Eiffel Tower, determined to go to the top since it was my last night in Paris, and go to the top I did. And I can tell you right now, they don’t call it the City of Lights for nothing. The view at night was pretty breathtaking.

There was even a football game going on.

Halfway up.

Mr. Eiffel and Mr. Edison at the top.

After the Eiffel Tower, I paid a quick visit to the famous Moulin Rouge, which I’m pretty sure no one visited before 2001, and which I still think not very many people can afford to go in, but it was still pretty awesome to see. And to sing Nicole Kidman and Ewan McGregor to myself.

The next day, my last in Paris, we went to Notre Dame during the day so we could actually go inside. The line was even longer than at Versailles, but luckily it went faster, and we successfully avoided all the gypsies. And it was beautiful, as we all know I love old churches.

yum, Eiffel Tower.

Remember what I taught you, Quasimodo.

That afternoon, after Mallory left to go to Italy, I wandered around Paris by myself before my train to Toulouse left that night, wearing my backpack and eating cornflakes because I keep it classy. I figured that since I saw the house where Oscar Wilde lived when he was born in Dublin, and his grave in Paris, it was only fitting that I visited the place where he died, L’Hotel. I feel like it’s all come full circle now!

I also went back to the Jardin du Luxembourg again for a while, since I didn’t have much to do all day, and it was lovely as usual. I think I could live there.

Also before I left, I visited a rather famous bookstore called Shakespeare & Company, an English bookstore. I think it’s hands down my favorite place in France. I think I would actually live here full time and just set up my summer home in the Jardin. There’s even a whole floor of books that aren’t for sale, but that you can sit and read while you’re at the bookstore. Amazing.

There’s also an entire Beat section. Heaven.

Before I left, I wandered the Place des Vosges, the oldest square in Paris, which was also beautiful and full of little art galleries which I would never be able to afford anything from in my life.

I also saw the most French man ever on the Metro. I was so wholly satisfied.

That night, I took the night train from Paris to Toulouse, which I actually got a fair amount of sleep on, surprisingly enough, considering I was curled up in two train seats. It was much more pleasant than most of the day that followed, I can tell you that. But I think I might have to have an entirely separate entry for my one day adventure in Toulouse, partly because it deserves it and partly because I’m tired of doing this now. Soon enough, children.

when it’s all you have, it’s all you’ll ever need.

This is going to be quick with not much talking because I have to leave in about a half hour to catch my train to Paris! But I need to fill in what’s been going on the last couple weeks because I’ll be on the European mainland until the 21st.

So my lovely friend Sarah came to visit me from Italy last weekend and we had quite a splendid time if I do say so myself. She came in late Thursday night (really Friday morning), and after my Friday class I took her around central and showed her the sights. I even took a few pictures of places I’ve been to multiple times before because the sky was gorgeous.

Oh, more importantly, we finally went to Platform 9 3/4 at King’s Cross. Off to Hogwarts, guys, see you later.

I was also happy to see that they took the huge construction monstrosity away from Lincoln. Now there’s just a fence. Yay

We also found a bird lady, my future self, in St. James’s Park.

The next day, we signed up to go on a guided coach tour to Stonehenge and Bath, which was sooo much fun. Stonehenge was pretty mind blowing; it’s so weird seeing such ancient history right on the side of the highway. The weather was almost as mind blowing: within ten minutes, there was rain, sun, wind, and hail…and it continued all day, which it made it quite an interesting trip.

After Stonehenge, the coach booked it to Bath and left us on our own for a few hours. We went through the Roman baths, which were incredible, and then wandered the streets for a couple hours, seeing the most important things (including the…gift shop of the Jane Austen Centre). Bath is absolutely one of the most beautiful cities I have been to. It’s in the countryside and all the buildings are made out of the same stone and it’s just gorgeous.

My favorite.

The drive home was also pretty beautiful. Almost everyone on the bus passed out except me, and I just listened to Bob Dylan and enjoyed the gorgeous English countryside.

Sunday we didn’t do much besides church and hang out at Cheshire Cheese. Monday we went around to some more of London: Natural History Museum, Harrod’s, Hyde Park & Kensington Gardens, The London Eye, Tower Bridge, etc. We ate lunch on the Southbank and went to Cheshire Cheese to get chocolate pudding and cheer ourselves up that Mamma Mia was sold out. The views from the Eye were pretty gorgeous. I don’t know if it was worth the exorbitant price, but it was just one of those things I had to do living here, so it was fun.

All in all, a great trip, I do believe. Last week was mostly catching up on sleep, writing a paper, and going to the last of my classes. This past Saturday, I decided to take a trip myself to the London Temple, which is about a 45 minute train ride south of the city. It felt like quite a pilgrimage walking the 2+ miles from the train station to the temple in a skirt, but the countryside was, as usual, gorgeous and there were some cute little houses on the road through Lingfield and Newchapel. The visitor’s centre at the temple was closed because of General Conference, which I had somehow completely forgotten about since Sarah and I had been talking about it a week earlier. But I guess if you’re going to forget General Conference there’s no better place to do so (I made it back in time for the afternoon session anyway). The grounds of the London temple are beautiful and I stayed there for a few hours, reading and enjoying the peace that you can’t get anywhere else.

future house.

The last couple days have been pretty chill: General Conference and going to Hyde & Kensington to read. I finally found the house that J.M. Barrie lived in across from Kensington Gardens, and I think where he wrote Peter Pan. That was exciting. And now I really have to leave for my train; I will see you loves in 2 weeks!

There is a stone there, that whoever kisses, / Oh! He never misses to grow eloquent.

Day 3 of Ireland. We took a train 3 hours south to Cork…

…and then a bus 5 miles up to Blarney to see Blarney Castle and kiss the world famous stone. Before I left for Ireland, I assumed everyone knew what the Blarney Stone was, but I’ve multiple people ask me what it is, so in a nutshell: the Blarney is a really old stone at the top of Blarney Castle that millions of people people have traveled to for hundreds of years to kiss on the belief that it gives you the gift of gab. There are plenty of legends as to the origins of the stone, which I suggest you look up if you want to know because I don’t want to type anymore.

Blarney Castle and the grounds surrounding it are really gorgeous, and we spent hours exploring both of them. For example:

oooh, passageways….

…really small ones…

…full of undesirables.

The opening above the column of windows is where the Blarney Stone is.

Did I mention it was ridiculously windy?

If you’re unfamiliar with the process, you have to hold onto iron railings and be held by a worker at the Castle while you lean realllly far back to kiss a small, grey stone. I’m immensely grateful for the iron bars; apparently before they were installed, it was quite a feat of courage to kiss the Stone. Even now, one of the ladies before us chickened out. It’s really not that bad, but it was an adventure.

There was also some kind of playground in the middle of the Castle grounds? I think we stayed there longer than anywhere else, if that says anything about our maturity levels.

And that’s Blarney for you. We went back to Cork after and had less than two hours before our bus back to Dublin left, so we wandered around the big shopping streets and got some food. Even though the bus ride back to Dublin was over four hours, I actually enjoyed it more than the train for some reason. The view from the highways and driving through small Irish towns is much more picturesque than the one from train stations in the industrial parts of cities. It was like our own little road trip.

And then the next morning, we woke before the sun to catch our plane back to London. I did, however, get a last glimpse of James Joyce at the airport. They love him.

Yay Ireland. Last weekend, Sarah came to visit me and a splendid time was had by all, so I’ll have to upload those pictures soon.

and if your life was gold, how long do you think you’d stay living

All right, back to Dublin. Day 2. I’m pretty sure we walked more in this day than I ever have before or ever care to again. By the end of the day my feet did not feel attached to my body. But it was still a great day.

In the morning, we attempted, and failed, to find my great-grandmother’s house. We found the street, but we didn’t have the house number and from what I could see (or rather, not see), many of the “landmarks” weren’t there anymore. So after about an hour of wandering around we decided to throw in the towel, but I’m going to go ahead and say that I saw because I’m sure I did and I just didn’t know it.

After that failed attempt, for a while we wandered around Dublin, which is just really pretty and interesting in and of itself.

War Memorial.

We made our way to Merrion Square to see the Oscar Wilde Memorial, or what apparently is affectionately known as the “Fag on the Crag” (they really like rhyming nicknames).

I decided it was a good idea to try to climb up with him, which was definitely one of the more interesting experiences of my life. I don’t think I have a career in rock climbing (but does anyone?).

But I made it, and enjoyed a nice little snuggle with Oscar, which I’m sure I appreciated more than he did. Across the street is also a house that Oscar lived in while growing up in Dublin. It’s not owned by the American College and they closed it to the public. Dang Americans!

After that, we headed back up toward St. Stephen’s Green, and while we were up there we saw people setting up the stage for later that day when the new national heroes, the rugby team, had their huge homecoming from Wales, which was cool (sadly we missed the homecoming because we were too late getting back into the centre that night though).

It was at this point in the day that I put on the Once soundtrack because we were in the territory of one of my favorite movies around St. Stephen’s Green and Grafton Street. So good.

(I’m telling you, he’s everywhere)

I could still feel Glen Hansard’s presence (taking it too far?)

After St. Stephen’s and Grafton Street, we went down a block or two to see Trinity College and The Book of Kells, which was pretty crazy (and overpriced, but we’ll forget that). The history and craftsmanship of the books are mind blowing. I also got yelled at for trying to take pictures in one of the halls in Trinity College, so that was fun.

From there we walked all the way down to the Guinness Storehouse (I got the James Joyce tour, Manuel got the Storehouse), taking in the Christ Church Cathedral on the way.

The exhibit took you through the history of Guinness as well as everything that goes into making, shipping, and advertising it, and was actually pretty interesting despite the fact that I’ve never tasted it. My favorite part was the Gravity Bar on the top floor, which had a panoramic view of Dublin, and the windows were full of — what else? — James Joyce quotes. I traded in my voucher for a free Coke instead of a Guinness and quite enjoyed it, despite the disdainful look given to me by the barmaid.

We took a different route when walking back to the centre of town so that we could swing by St. Patrick’s Cathedral.

You can barely see the airplane in the corner, but it’s towing a banner that says “well done, lads” — another form of congratulations for the rugby team.

Lucky for me, a dog peed on this right before I went to take a picture.

By the time we got back to the centre, the official homecoming was over and the masses were dispersing, but the Irish pride was still everywhere. It was like a second St. Patrick’s Day.

By this point, we were pretty much dead from walking and so stopped into a pub called Davy Byrne’s for some food (chosen specifically because it is where Leopold Bloom takes his lunch in Ulysses).

Not only were pictures of Joyce all over the menu and wall, but these bronze plaques are on the ground all over the city, charting Leopold Bloom’s epic day through Dublin. You can walk through his entire day, though I can’t say I did that, as I’ve only read the first 80 pages of the book. I’ll have to have a go at it again, but it’s quite difficult.

That night we went back to Temple Bar, since it was so close to our hostel, and went to a pub advertising traditional Irish music, which I was determined to see. It was basically four old dudes sitting around a table, drinking beer and playing fantastic Irish music. It’s definitely a little something for the tourists, but I was completely satisfied; I have always absolutely loved Irish and Celtic music and it was so amazing to actually see it in Ireland.

http://www.facebook.com/video/video.php?v=554008974769&ref=nf

You can’t actually see them in the video because the lighting was so low, but you can hear them at any rate.

I’ll do day 3 later, probably tomorrow. I need to go sleepy.

When I die Dublin will be written in my heart.

Now that it’s spring break, I really don’t have any excuse to not update this right now, except for the fact that The Gun Seller is sitting next to my laptop, begging to be read. But it will have to wait, because I have a weekend in Ireland to catch everyone up on.

So, two weekends ago, Manuel and I took a little weekend trip to Dublin, my first time out of the UK so far. Since we only had a couple days, we were prepared to cram in as much as possible, and I don’t think we disappointed. If you want to save time reading this entry, I think I can sum up Dublin in four words: James Joyce and Guinness. If you don’t like at least one of those things, it takes a lot of the interest out of the city.

Saturday early afternoon we flew into the Emerald Isle with every intention to check into my hostel (he stayed at a different one for the first night because there wasn’t enough space) and then head over to the James Joyce Centre to take a Dubliner’s walking tour at 2. We didn’t even end up getting to the hostel until 2, but decided to have a go anyway; we didn’t get to the Centre until 2:30, but luckily the tour had barely just left and we were able to pay the piper and run to catch up with the group. The walk was really good, because the guide not only pointed out some James Joyce and Dubliner’s sights, but he talked a lot about general Dublin history as well which was really interesting, and the walk gave a pretty good feel for the city centre and where everything was.

I’m sure I’m the only one who cares, but this is the setting for the end of the story “The Dead,” probably one of the best short stories ever written (I wrote an 8 page paper about it last year). So happy.

My two favorite people on the tour: the one on the right being our cute Irish Joyce guide and the one on the left being the ridiculously pretentious American tourist.

After we finished the tour, Manuel went to check into his hostel and I went back to the Joyce Centre and looked around the shop and the exhibit, which I should have had to pay for, but the guy let me in for free. There wasn’t a whole lot to it but it was interesting and (for the most part) fulfilled my nerd quota for the day.

James Joyce Centre.

Parnell monument.

The Spire, or the “Stiletto in the Ghetto.”

Myself and my man James.

I hadn’t had enough James Joyce, however, so we took a walk down the River Liffey to the other setting of “The Dead.” It was quite a lovely walk, and the sun was getting low which made everything look beautiful.

Four Courts.

James Joyce Bridge.

The main setting for “The Dead.” Apparently they used to give tours of this building, but it’s not open anymore. :(

After we walked back and grabbed a cheap bite to eat (emphasis on the need for cheap: Dublin is even more expensive than London), we headed over to a pub to watch the second half of the Ireland v. Wales rugby game. If you don’t know anything about rugby, which is likely, this game was the Six Nations Championship Finals game, which is the rugby union of England, Ireland, Scotland, Wales, France, and Italy. For all I know I’m not getting the terminology correctly, but since most people reading this don’t know either, I can say whatever I want. In any case, it was a really intense game. I had never watched a rugby game before, but I actually highly enjoyed it (I think I like it more than football), and since it’s really easy for me to get into sports if I have a team to root for, I was yelling and cheering in no time. It was such an exciting game and Ireland come back up from behind at the end to win the game, meaning not only were they the Six Nations Champions, but they also won a Grand Slam, meaning they beat every other team, which hasn’t happened in over 60 years. Suffice it to say the celebrations in Dublin that night were all over the place. We did some pub hopping ourselves, going from the pub we watched the game at on Abbey Street up to a different pub on O’Connell Street (where there was a group of Irishmen singing who knows what), and then back down to the Temple Bar area where we went to another ridiculously crowded pub.

Champion Team

Everywhere we went, there was celebrating, people dancing in the streets, people with Irish flags wrapped around them, and music. If I remember nothing else about Dublin, I will remember the music. Between the group of singing pub patrons on O’Connell Street, the guitar duo in the pub in Temple Bar who alternated between Irish drinking songs and covers of pop songs, and the musicians in the street covering U2 and MGMT while bystanders danced in the streets, there was so much that Saturday night. Luckily, I recorded many of these on video. Also, I’m not sure what it is, but I heard people singing John Denver’s “Country Roads, Take Me Home” many times that weekend as well. I tried to search online if it was some kind of anthem, but as far as I can tell, people in Ireland are just huge John Denver fans. Now that’s something I can get behind.

http://www.facebook.com/video/video.php?v=553998326109

http://www.facebook.com/video/video.php?v=553998495769

http://www.facebook.com/video/video.php?v=553999159439

http://www.facebook.com/video/video.php?v=553999264229

So that was my first (half) day in Dublin. I was going to do this all in one go, but I might break it up by day because I just decided I want ice cream. I’ll get onto day 2 as soon as I get back.

all children, except one, grow up

Now that I’ve eaten I guess I’ll round out my month up until last weekend. Part 2 consists more of parks than anything, but who doesn’t love a little bit of nature in the middle of the big city?

On the ides of March, the weather was pretty fantastic so Manuel and I went to Hyde Park (and Kensington Gardens, which pretty much run into each other). It’s the most famous park in London by far, and for that very reason some people say it’s not the best one, but I loved it. It’s definitely not the place to go for complete peace and quiet, as it’s so popular, but it’s beautiful and great for people (and dog and bird) watching, which is one of the best things to do. It was an early taste of spring and it felt great outside and the whole time I just kept imagining J.M. Barrie meeting the Llewelyn-Davies boys.

Princess Diana Memorial Fountain

The famous Peter Pan statue in Kensington Gardens. I remember reading that J.M. Barrie didn’t actually like the statue himself, but I love it. It was at this point that I listened to the soundtrack from the 2003 film adaptation of the play and pulled out my copy of the play to read quotes from it. And we saw a man that we were convinced is J.M. Barrie. He is alive.

I wish I could dress like this and not be judged.

Me and my new family.

Victoria (side note: I went and saw The Young Victoria and thought it was quite good; not amazing but it was what I expected. It’s weird seeing movies that aren’t coming out in the U.S. Emily Blunt was fantastic).

Kensington Palace.

My new favorite dog, second only to the one in Stratford.

The next day I went to the Victoria and Albert Museum by myself, and again spent much longer than I anticipated there. I don’t really know how to describe the museum in concise terms, so according to Wikipedia it is “the world’s largest museum of decorative arts and design” with “holdings of ceramics, glass, textiles, costumes, silver, ironwork, jewellery, furniture, medieval objects, sculpture, prints and printmaking, drawings and photographs.” It technically spans thousands of years, but most of the objects were focused within the last 500 years or so (mainly the British and European holdings). It was a really eclectic collection of everything from great works of art down to artifacts of everyday life, and as is typical for most of the museums here, the building was beautiful as well. One of my favorite parts was when they literally transplanted entire rooms from historic buildings into the museum.

Tsar Nicholas II’s ball outfit from the last great swan song of Imperial Russia.

The Great Bed of Ware, which was at an inn and became famous for its size in the late 1500s — it slept 7 people and Shakespeare even references it in Twelfth Night.

Absolutely ridiculous court dress; the women would have to turn sideways to get through the door.

The next day, I decided to go to another park to read The Hours for class. This time, I decided to go to Regent’s Park, and it was quite lovely as well. I only saw one small section of the park, but it was much more peaceful than Hyde Park which was good for reading and it was just a nice place to spend some time in the middle of the city.

I settled down in one of these deck chairs for some reading, and about 5 minutes later a guy came buy to the collect the money you apparently have to pay to sit in them. I scooted off.

That night for St. Patrick’s day, a group of seven or eight of us from the halls went to a bar in Shoreditch…it was probably the least Irish place we could have gone, but at least we were out of Wood Green which was nice. That’s pretty much my month up until last weekend, when Manuel and I went to Ireland, which I will do as soon as I get those pictures all organized. I’m sure I’ve done a few random things in between these, but I don’t have any pictures of it, so it couldn’t have been important, right?