Goodbye, London

Dear London,

I’m not really sure how this is supposed to go. I can’t even begin to explain to you what you’ve come to mean to me over the last few months. I can’t find the words to use that will accurately describe your profoundness.

How can I explain the ache in my chest every time I consider the fact that there are no guarantees of seeing you again? By leaving, I feel like I’m giving you up, and I’m not ready for that.

How can I even consider all the little things I’ll miss about being here?

How can I leave the annoyances of a late train? A packed train? A quiet train? A train of children on their way to a field trip?

How will I survive not being a short train ride from fantastic coffee? From salt beef beigels? From comic book stores and crazy night clubs? From sites older than my home country?

How will I get by without my Sunday morning walks through Kensington Gardens? Who will note the antics of playful dogs? Who will laugh at the stupid seagulls who fight over pillars? Who will the pigeons antagonize? Who will find the parrots when they blend into the trees?

How can I leave the black-clad streets full of muted holiday cheer? How can I stay away from the Christmas lights and Winter Wonderland?

How can I leave a place where professors take students out for pints after final exams?

How will I survive without Polpo meatballs? Where will I go to get good French baked goods if not the place around the corner from here where the staff bickers in French?

How can I walk down the street without looking out for children ready to run me over with their scooters? When will I be hit by a car because I look right-left-right before crossing the street?

How can I explain that you are everything I’ve ever needed? That I feel so privileged to have been here for even the short time I was able to. To steal a line from a particular John Green novel, you’ve given me a forever in a limited number of days, and for that I am eternally grateful.

How can I explain that I was a different person before I met you? A million tiny, seemingly insignificant changes happened during my time here. And what, I’m supposed to just go back to the life that didn’t really stop at home? Like none of this even mattered? I don’t think I can do that. Not now. Not after everything.

What if I never come back?

I guess I would say thank you. For all the millions of tiny changes, for the greatest moments of my life thus far. For all the good and all the bad that I would never trade for anything else. For all these things and more, I have to say thank you.

Here’s to a life well-spent, in all the good faith that I’ll be back someday.

 

Much love,

Mackenzie

Scotland: Blackjack

Let’s talk about Glasgow. If you don’t want to hear about my drunken antics, I suggest you stop reading here. Mom, grandma… proceed with caution. Most of my trip was spent drunk.

I’m going to tell you something really embarrassing, and I’m just going to do it really fast. Somehow, some way, I bought our plane tickets for the wrong days. So, on Thursday, we arrived at Stansted Airport at 6:50 after leaving our dorm at 5 only to find out that our boarding passes didn’t work. So we bought new flights. And this happened on the way home too, so we had to take an overnight bus. I’m really embarrassed that I screwed up so badly, but at the same time, I’m kind of proud of the fact that I was able to fix my mistake on my own. I didn’t have to call my dad and ask him what I should do; I just handled it. It was a crap situation, but I think I handled it like an adult. I felt really bad about it, because Amber was stuck with me and it really wasn’t her fault. But we fixed it like the adults we are. The rest of my time in Glasgow was not spent so responsibly.

So after getting to Glasgow much later than intended, we went to a whisky bar called Oran Mor for dinner. Oran Mor is a converted church. They put a blue, neon halo around the steeple. It’s really fun inside. We ate haggis, neeps, and tatties. I had a couple of whiskies. Nothing too crazy. But it was really only a taster for what was to come.

The next morning, Amber and I woke up late. So at 11, we decided to leave for the Auchentoshan distillery, which is just outside the city. We called an Uber, and were on our way. We walked into this adorable little distillery, and there was nobody else there. We got our own private tour with Jeremy, a 19 year old whisky guy. During the tour, we saw the entire whisky making process at Auchentoshan. Unlike most Scotch whiskies, Auchentoshan triple distills their whisky before casking it. They say it gives it a smoother taste. For those of you reading who don’t know much about whisky, Scotch whisky is its own thing. Irish whiskey is triple distilled. So think of Jameson. Other Scotch whiskies, such as Glennfiddich, Glenmorangie, Glen Garioch, and the like, are double distilled in an attempt to give them more depth. Note the E: generally speaking, countries with names that contain an E spell it whiskey and countries that don’t have an E spell it whisky: America-whiskey, Ireland-whiskey, Japan-whisky, Scotland-whisky. If you have questions, Google it or ask me sometime. I know a lot about Scotch at this point.

The first major thing we saw (after he explained that the only ingredients in whisky are water, malted barley, and yeast) was the fermentation vats. In these vats, yeast is added to the sugar water created by the malted barley. The mixture is called wash. Jeremy let Amber and I taste it. It’s basically bitter beer at that point, and it has about an 8% alcohol content. The next part was seeing the stills. There are three of them of different shapes. They’re copper, which is important for taste and hygiene. What comes out after the third distilling is called new mix, and that is what goes into different kinds of barrels to create the different whiskies Auchentoshan makes. The new mix is approximately 81% alcohol. How does something go from being 8% alcohol to being 81% alcohol? Easy. The distilling process removes water. Jeremy then had Amber and I drink some of this new mix. It was intense. It could remove paint from a barn, and it will literally destroy the lining of your esophagus and stomach if you drink too much. Yes, I drank some. It was gross. That time.

After the stills, we went into the warehouse. We saw barrels and barrels of Scotch. They use different cask types to get different flavors of whisky. Due to American labor laws, American whiskey makers can only use a cask once. As a result, whiskey makers from other countries use the casks after American distilleries are done with them. This gives them a deeper, nicer flavor. Auchentoshan imports sherry casks, port casks, bourbon casks, and a few others to age their whisky in. Sometimes, they start a whisky in one type of barrel and move it to another after a few years. My favorite example is moving a whisky from a bourbon barrel to a sherry barrel. Yum.

After this, our tour was basically over. But we had a glass of American Oak whisky included in the tour price. So we sat at the bar and chatted with Jeremy while we sipped our whisky. This is where everything started to go wrong. If you’re still with me, consider turning away now.

Jeremy mentioned that the strongest whisky they make is 61%  alcohol, which is too high to be sold in supermarkets. They sell it at the distillery. He then poured out a dram of it and handed it to us. I had a sip, Amber had a sip. We were still trying to finish the American Oak. But then, Neil, Jeremy’s boss, came down. Jeremy wasn’t supposed to give us this dram and could get in trouble for doing so. So he looked at me. I drank that puppy like a shot and shuddered.

What I may have failed to mention at the beginning of this story is that we signed up to do a guided tasting after our tour, which Neil would be leading. Included in that tasting are four drams of different kinds of whisky. Keep this in mind.

When we started the tasting, a lovely Glasgowegian couple joined us for a tasting before their tour. We chatted with them while we drank. In theory, we were supposed to start with the most mellow whisky and move to the more complex one. In actuality, I tried sips of each of them in the right order, but then everything got messed up. Here they are, in case you’re curious: Virgin Oak (so called because Auchentoshan used casks that had never been used before; I wasn’t a fan of this because it was too simple and harsh) 12-year old, Three Wood (so called because it has whisky made in three different barrels…or it’s whisky that’s been aged in three barrels. Those are very different things), and the distillery cask (again). This, by itself, probably would not have been that bad. It would have gotten me very tipsy. But Neil, being the person he is, wasn’t satisfied with this. For some reason or another, he decided to get us all wasted. In between some of the drams we had with the tasting, he brought out glasses of sherry from the company they get their sherry casks from. That was delicious; if you’ve never had sherry, it’s like dessert in alcohol form. Then he brought out a whisky that was finished in a wine cask, which I was too tipsy to ask the name of. Then, because that wasn’t enough, he brought out the new mix again. The second time I tasted it, it tasted like honey and fruit. That’s how drunk I was. I could taste the flavors that the copper is supposed to give the new mix. However, I still had to finish the drams of whisky from the tasting. So I only had a sip or two of the new mix. Then I drank the three drams worth of whisky that came with the tasting that I hadn’t finished yet. We were just…so drunk. For a college student, that was extraordinarily expensive alcohol to get drunk on. I knew I was getting drunk, so the only reason I remember exactly what I had to drink is because I took notes on my phone. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be able to tell you what we drank.

We were staying at an Airbnb, and our host just laughed at us when we came back that drunk. She told us that it wasn’t uncommon during off-peak season for them to do what they’d done to us. Darn Neil got us so drunk. In his honor, I named the cow keychain that I drunkenly bought (for some reason I still don’t understand or remember…) after him. It was still the middle of the day. We slept so long that by the time we woke up, the pubs had stopped serving food. So we ended up at a Chinese place at 9:30, begging for food.

You’d think that after that, we’d learn our lesson. No. The next night, we decided to go out to Ashton Lane, which is a really trendy place to get drinks. We started with a pint (for me. Amber got liquor…) at this Irish pub full of granddads. Nothing wrong with granddads, I like mine. But for two 21 year old girls, it wasn’t the best place to be. So we went to this place called Vodka Wodka and had the most amazing chocolate orange martinis. Any drink where they slather the rim in Nutella is the drink for me. If you’ve ever had a Terry’s chocolate orange, which my family eats every Christmas, that’s exactly what this martini tasted like. Then we went to Ketchup to eat some food, and we had pints.

We were going to call it a night at that point. The weather was awful. There was a gale going on, which is what happens when a hurricane blows across the ocean to Scotland. It’s not a full-force thing, but it’s still a major storm. I didn’t know what to expect, so we went back to our host’s. She basically yelled at us for being back by 9. She said that two 21 year old girls in Glasgow for the weekend needed to go out to fun places. She basically shoved us out the door so we would have fun. That’s what I’m going to tell myself, anyways.

We went to this pub that doesn’t have a name. It has a big, light bulb question mark as a sign out front. I found out from the bartender that they’re running it like a pop-up, so they don’t have a name. That particular night, there was live music. The band that interested us most played a bunch of songs that we knew from the Juno soundtrack. Their drummer didn’t show up, so they asked for one from the crowd. So some random guy named Fergus (how Scottish, right?) played the drum-box-thing for them for two or three songs, then drifted around the pub. The band finished their set. I saw Fergus. I was bored. I have no problem talking to strangers. So, somehow, I got him to sit down and drink with us. He was very nice. But then, one of the guitarists walked by. Fergus flagged him down. However, by the time he actually sat down with us, Fergus was long gone. Regardless, Matthew, the guitarist, sat down and had a drink with us. Then Martin, the singer guy, also sat down with us. Martin was wearing a kilt. Not kidding.

So here’s the truth. They were nice, funny blokes, and Amber and I were having a great time trying to figure out what these two very Scottish guys were trying to say to us. They invited us to another pub. We said yes. Got into a cab. Went to another pub. Yes, I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking “Mackenzie, how dare you!? These are strangers in a foreign country! That’s so dangerous!” Yes. It probably wasn’t the most responsible thing I’ve ever done. But I trusted them. My gut said it was fine. And it was. We went to another pub, drank another pint. They knew a lot of people there, and it was just fun. Amber and I left after they turned the lights on.

In between the drinking, we did do other things. We climbed the hill to the necropolis at the Glasgow Cathedral. We wandered around the University of Glasgow. But you have to understand that it basically didn’t stop raining for our entire visit. It was cold. I actually felt that the weather and temperature were more appropriate for December. I felt more comfortable with the climate in Glasgow than with what it’s been like in London. It’s still in the 50s here, which is so wrong for December. But Amber, my lovely travel companion, is from California. She can’t really handle the cold. Plus she was sick. So we did what we had to to stay warm.

I haven’t been a saint. Let’s be clear, I know I’ve been occupying my time with some questionable things. However, I’m 21. For being a 21 year old girl in a foreign country, I really haven’t been that awful. I’ve hit blackjack a few times, but I don’t necessarily think that’s a bad thing. I’ve been really lucky because all of my experiences have been good. Embarrassing? Absolutely. But I wouldn’t trade them.

Here’s what I’ve learned. It’s important to always learn something from travel. I’ve learned that Scotland is absolutely the best place on Earth. It’s gorgeous. It has great food. It has whisky that I literally have found myself unable to say no to (I’ve said no to everything else at least once. I’m not an alcoholic…hopefully). People there are friendlier than in London. Prices aren’t so high. I’ve also learned that meeting the right people makes all the difference. If I had met the people I met in Glasgow in Edinburgh instead, I would have said hands down that Edinburgh is better than Glasgow. But instead I’ll say this: I had a better time in Glasgow than I did in Edinburgh. It wasn’t just the alcohol. It was the fact that I got out and really experienced life there. I enjoy Edinburgh more as a city. It’s undoubtedly prettier. But my experience there can’t touch my experience in Glasgow.

If I was given the chance to go back, I would. I wouldn’t hesitate for a second. If an opportunity came up to live there for a few years, I would take it. I don’t think I could move there permanently for various reasons that aren’t really relevant to this blog post, but I would love to go back to Scotland someday.

This was my last major trip of the semester, and for me, it was the best. Thanks for everything, Scotland!

Scotland: Genesis

Here it is. The much awaited post about the best places I’ve visited. Scotland. This might be a bit disjointed, because I’m going to write about Edinburgh, which I visited well over a month ago, and Glasgow, which I’ve only just come from. So let’s start from the beginning, shall we?

We arrived in Edinburgh late in the evening, but, even with limited light, it made an impression. We had a very long bus ride to look out the windows, and I must say that’s when I absolutely fell in love with Scotland. History suddenly made sense. Its geographic position, its proximity to London, had always made some sort of sense to me. But it didn’t really connect for me until I went from London to Edinburgh how strategically connected the cities must have been when they both functioned as capital cities, and further, how they functioned together as major seats of power for warring monarchs. But even more than geographic significance, Scotland is gorgeous. I really do mean it when I say I’ve never been any place so naturally beautiful. Perhaps it’s my proclivity for mountains and hills, but it really is gorgeous. Scottish hills are unlike any I’ve ever seen. They aren’t really hills: they’re downs. They’re Almost Mountains. They’re covered in mist, and in that way it’s like even the sky can’t help but to reach down with tendriling mist fingers, grasping to be closer to the Scottish beauty.

On my first real day in Edinburgh, I went on a walking tour, where I saw the places JK Rowling wrote major portions of the Harry Potter books. She mainly wrote at Spoon Cafe, because her brother-in-law or something owned it. She wrote there because she couldn’t afford to heat her apartment during the day (our host in Glasgow didn’t heat her apartment most of the time either, so I understand that it’s a common thing in Scotland now. It gets so cold and blustery that heating costs a fortune, and Scots are just used to the cold by now), so she went to cafes to stay warm while she worked. Spoon doesn’t advertise its Potter connections, probably because its under new management. In contrast, Elephant House Cafe has signs everywhere about how they’re the birthplace of Harry Potter. First, Rowling came up with the idea while she was on a train somewhere, and she was living in Portugal at the time anyways. Second, while she did write there, her primary spot was Spoon Cafe, because she was related to the owner. So calm down, Elephant House.

I learned about the legendary Greyfriars Bobby, a dog who continued to patrol the streets around the Greyfriars Churchyard even after his police officer owner died. A cute story, though it seems dog loyalty stories happen in every country.

That afternoon, we went on the Scotch Whisky Experience. While it isn’t a real whisky distillery, the people who work there are extremely knowledgeable about whisky, and since they aren’t attached to any particular brand, they can be honest about what they like and what they don’t. I was with my fall break tour group at the beginning of this, but most of them left right after the tour. I, on the other hand, was not satisfied with the one sample that was included in the tour. So I sat at the bar with a friend for another hour and talked to the guide about whisky. I drank more. Without giving away what my favorite whisky was (because I bought a bottle of it for my dad and I’m not giving it away before he gets it), I can say that I thoroughly enjoy Lowland Scotch the best.

The morning after the whisky experience, I hiked to the top of a volcano to Arthur’s Seat, where I got the most spectacular view of Edinburgh. Everything looked absolutely perfect from so far above it. I’m being honest when I say that bagpipe music literally wafted up the slope at us; a guy was practicing at a nearby park and we could hear him while we climbed down. But yeah, the city looked absolutely amazing, but then again, it’s really hard to not look perfect from so far up. We could see the ocean, and we watched mist slowly creep in over the coast. As it turns out, it’s actually not the best view of the city, which is extraordinary because I thought it was perfect.

The Royal Mile is touristy. No two ways about it. However, there’s this amazing cathedral there called Saint Giles. After the Reformation, it was converted from a Catholic Cathedral into a Presbyterian one. As a Presby, I’m not particularly used to having such spectacular places to worship. My church at home is lovely, but it’s not a cathedral. Being in there was a more spiritual experience than I thought it would be. I ended up going there twice. The stained glass windows are beautiful; it’s a Gothic building, and it’s a very typical church of that style. Honestly, it’s the most beautiful Presbyterian church I’ve ever been in. It’s a functioning church, so you don’t really go in for tours. You go in and walk about, and you can sit in for a service. They have places to light candles and write prayers out. There are small alcoves for private prayer. If you’re in Edinburgh, it’s worth a visit. It’s totally free, and it’s beautiful.

On one of our nights there, we did a dark side tour. Basically, we walked around the city at night and this guy, Johnny, told us about the horrible things that have happened there. We learned about witch hunts (Scotland was merciless; basically nobody lived there, but they executed more people for witchcraft than anyone else because King James Number Something was obsessed with witchcraft) and grave robbing. We learned about the mysterious Murder Dolls they dug up at Arthur’s Seat. We learned about the crazy dude who thought he was a vampire, which was actually pretty recent. But it was on that tour that I got the best view of Edinburgh. We climbed up this wicked staircase called Jacob’s Ladder. The name should tell you something. Anyways, we were up on this hill and we got a view of the city that wasn’t so cookie-cutter as the view from Arthur’s Seat; this view made Edinburgh to look like a real city. Everything glittered because the mist had rolled in off the sea, and the lights from the city made everything perfect. We were up by the Shame of Scotland, which is a half-finished replica of the Parthenon. It’s half-finished because they ran out of money part of the way into construction and had to abandon the project. However, going up Jacob’s Ladder and seeing this creepy, half-finished monument on top of a hill with the best view of Edinburgh was definitely a highlight of the trip.

I’d go back to Edinburgh in a heart beat. Something about it just stays with me. Other Scots say it’s not a real city. But it is. There are touristy parts, but that’s true of any big city. And, this might just be my opinion, but Edinburgh is definitely prettier than Glasgow. It’s part of the hills in a way Glasgow just can’t ever be. There’s so much to do, and I don’t think I did everything. In contrast, I don’t see what else I could possibly do in Glasgow.

This post was originally going to be about both Glasgow and Edinburgh, but it was too long. I think 4000 words is too much for a blog. So Glasgow will go up in a day or two. I will warn you that it’s a bit of an intense post. Think a bit before reading it, especially if you’re related to me. That’s all for now, folks.

 

Rookie Mistakes

So this Sunday, I did what I do on many Sundays in London: I went for a walk in Kensington Gardens. However, on this particular Sunday, I did not look at the weather. As a result, I was at the farthest point in the garden from where I live when it started to pour down rain. Under normal circumstances, this would be fine. But I didn’t have an umbrella. Or my rain jacket. I got drenched on my twenty minute walk back to my dorm. I felt like an idiot. How long have I been living here? Long enough to know to wear water-proof things when I go out under a gray sky. So naturally, this got me thinking about other rookie mistakes you can make in London. Here they are.

1. Leaving the house without an umbrella: ALWAYS. Or something to cover your head if it starts to rain. London weather is slightly crazy. Most of the time when it rains, it doesn’t rain hard: it drizzles a lot here. But, it never hurts to be prepared.
2. Leaving the house without your Oyster card: Your Oyster card is your ticket to any place in London. It gets you on the Tube and the buses. I don’t always carry my Oyster card around, because I don’t take the Tube every day. But it should generally just stay in your purse or wallet. Don’t move it.
3. Going to the wrong store for the wrong thing: Here’s the thing. London doesn’t really have any place like a Walmart, where you can just go to one store and find generally everything. So here’s some comparisons.
   1. Tesco Express is a grocery store that also carries some household goods. It’s sort of like Pick N Save. Sort of.
   2. Argos. We have nothing like Argos. It’s not a normal store. Instead of browsing through aisles of stuff, Argos has tablets. You go up to a tablet and find your stuff. Then you pay for it at the counter and they give you your stuff. It’s like shopping online with instant gratification. However, they carry stuff like Target does, minus the food. They’re pretty good for general stuff, though it’s not good if you don’t really know what you’re shopping for.
   3. Marks and Spencer. M&S is weird. Traditionally, M&S is a department store on caliber with Boston Store, Bergners, Macy’s… all of those. They’re known mostly for their lingerie. However, there are also M&S food halls. Those are grocery stores. It’s the weirdest combination, but I love the M&S food hall. They have good food and a great bakery that isn’t terribly expensive.
   4. Primark. Primark is heaven. We don’t really have anything quite like Primark in America. But it’s clothing. It’s super trendy clothing, but it’s also super cheap. It’s really nice if you just want some pieces that are in style at the moment, but it’s not a place to get something you want to keep forever. I guess in some ways it’s like Target, but it really only does clothing and a few home goods, like pillows and blankets and stuff. But mostly it’s clothing and shoes and jackets. It’s absolutely amazing though. While in the UK, Primark is worth a visit. In Dublin, Primark is called Penney’s, which is also really good.
   5. Boots. Boots is a pharmacy. Basically. It’s more than that though. They sell great cosmetics and stuff. It’s almost like what you’d get if Ulta and CVS had a baby. It has all the drugs you need and any makeup you could want.
4. Standing on the left side of escalators: This seems like a little thing, but it’s not. The thing you have to understand is that British people genuinely love queuing. They like making lines. So when you see a line of people getting on the right side of the escalator up out of the Tube, don’t just say “screw it” and go on the left side and stand. The left side of the escalator is for people who are walking up or down the escalator. It isn’t for standers. This goes for all escalators in London. Just don’t do it. It’s really irritating. I know, I’m not British. But it really is annoying when you’re in a hurry, running down the escalator, and some moron who doesn’t know the rules is standing on the left side, chatting up his mates. It gives you away as a tourist immediately, because anyone who lives in London knows to stand on the right.
5. Selfie sticks: I know I’ll take some heat for this, but selfie sticks are atrocious. Only tourists use them, and nothing is more annoying than being somewhere and getting whacked in the face by someone’s selfie stick. For real, they get in the way and look absolutely ridiculous. Just stop.
6. Being slow topping up your Oyster: It’s not hard. You just tap your card against the yellow circle, select the payment method (cash or card) and amount. Put in money or insert card. It takes the machine seconds to read it. Then it asks you to tap your Oyster on the yellow circle again to finalize the purchase. So don’t put your card away. Put it somewhere easy to reach. The whole thing should take a minute tops. Do not be that person holding up the whole line because it doesn’t make sense. I know that sometimes it’s hard. But it’s the same process over and over.

That’s basically all I can think of at the moment. But yeah, don’t do these things.

Invasion of the Christmas Bug

Americans get really mad when Christmas stuff appears in stores right after Halloween. We all say “It shouldn’t be up until after Thanksgiving! Let’s be real, we still have Thanksgiving!”

We don’t have Thanksgiving here, so everyone here has been anticipating Christmas since Halloween. However, England does Christmas preparation much better than America. The lights just appeared out of nowhere. And there are lights everywhere. It’s not like in American cities where you sort of get wreaths on lampposts and nativity scenes in town squares. No. Here, you get beautifully lit pathways and windows displaying gorgeous winter clothing in holiday scenes.

Christmas is everywhere. Stores smell like mulled wine, frankincense, and honey. It’s utterly cheerful, and absolutely beautiful to walk around and take it all in at night. We have Christmas markets and fairs. Hyde Park has been turned into a glorious Christmas Winter Wonderland, complete with shopping and ice skating. I can’t overemphasize how prevalent Christmas is here. Pictures are the only way to show you, and those will be added here slowly, as well as on my Facebook page.

One great part of Christmas in London is Winter Wonderland in Hyde Park. I went with the ever lovely Amber, and we had a blast. Basically, they take a huge part of Hyde Park and set up a carnival. There are wooden booths covered in garland and lights. They sell ornaments and jewelry, food and wine. There are rides and games. For some reason, there’s a German theme. So there’s a little Bavaria in the middle with bratwurst and beer and a giant moving man in lederhosen with a bird on his hand that has its own weird soundtrack of the guy talking to the bird. But yeah. There’s food roasting on huge grills and people are generally just really happy. Amber and I went on one ride, and it was the coolest ride ever. Basically, it was a giant barrel. You get in and stand with your back against the wall (the guy had to space the three people in it out so our weight was somewhat equally distributed). Then the floor raises up and the whole thing starts to spin around really really fast. Then the floor drops out from under you, but because you’re spinning around so fast, you stay where you are. It’s like when you swing a bucket of water around over your head really fast and none of the water splashes out. Seriously, I couldn’t move my limbs because we were pressed against the wall so hard. Then it slowed down and I slid down the wall to the floor. It was so cool. I may or may not have been yelling “PHYSICS!!! YEAH!!!” as we went around in circles. Trying to walk out of the barrel after the ride was hard though. I was walking around like I do when I leave the club after drinking too much. But basically, Winter Wonderland at Hyde Park is great fun. There’s something for everyone. There’s alcohol and food and games. What’s not to like? There weren’t even that many people there, so the main negative of going to a carnival (the crowds) wasn’t even a factor.

Another British Christmas thing is the competition of the Christmas commercials. All the major stores make these elaborate commercials for Christmas, and they don’t seem to have anything to do with the actual store. They’re more like mini movies. It’s almost like the strategy is to bring more people into the store just because they genuinely enjoyed the commercial. That’s probably actually it, because that’s so utterly British. People watch these things and cry. Seriously, go to YouTube and look up “people crying over John Lewis ad” and I’m sure you’ll get a bunch of British bloggers crying about how beautiful it is. Then go watch the ad. It’s lovely, but I definitely didn’t cry.

It’s simultaneously wonderful and terrible. On the one hand, it’s wonderful because I love Christmas and I’m so excited to see my family and spend the holiday with them. But on the other hand, the coming of Christmas also means my imminent departure from this amazing city, and I don’t think I’m entirely ready for that to happen. Who am I kidding? I’m totally not ready to leave. It’s a major contradiction. I want to be at home, but I want home to be here. Christmastime in London is magical, so Christmas day would have to be spectacular. I guess I’ll just have to come back someday.

The East End

Living in Kensington has many advantages. It’s a safe place to walk around. Kensington Gardens is absolutely beautiful. There are good restaurants and plenty of places to shop. However, Kensington is utterly conventional; it is the epitome of posh and everything that encompasses.

Which is why going out to the East End is so much fun.

During my first month or so in London, I was terrified of the East End. I thought it was where all the poverty and grime were. I thought it was definitively the underbelly of London, so it had to be dangerous. While there are parts of the East End that are probably (definitely) like that, I was so wrong to judge the entire East End so harshly. I regret it now. I now understand that Shoreditch, which is part of the East End, is an amazing place.

My first encounter with Shoreditch was in the middle of the night. Amber, a friend of mine who is usually the vague “friend” in my blog posts and yelled at me for not mentioning her by name, dragged me 40 minutes away from Kensington at night because she had a photo-journalism project that she had to do there. So, I went with her to a place I thought wasn’t super safe ever, much less at night. We went to Brick Lane, which has actually gentrified quite a bit in the last few years, but it’s still a trendy, hipstery place to go. It’s not posh like Kensington, but it’s also not super gritty like a lot of other places on the East End. So Amber and I hauled photography equipment around. People were really suspicious of us though. Amber was supposed to interview people, but like she keeps telling me, she’s “actually really shy.” I, however, am not shy at all, so I shoved her through doorways into shops so she had to talk to people. But none of them would talk to her. Probably because everyone we talked to was foreign. . . and they may have been there illegally? No idea. But that was a flop. The pictures looked good though.

The second time we went out was also at night. We went down there for some curry on our food day. It was literally the best Indian food I’ve ever had. Essentially every place on Brick Lane has some sort of award banner across its front for having the best curry in London, so there really isn’t any way to go wrong.

However, these experiences were relatively fleeting. It wasn’t until I spent an entire day in Shoreditch that I really started to appreciate it. We found the best coffee shop ever, Brick Lane Coffee. It’s so sassy, and the coffee is so good. The atmosphere is relaxed and cool, and they encourage swearing with the names of their beverages and the words on their mugs, which I can appreciate because my vocabulary is usually not fit for public exhibition. We went to a bakery called Beigel Bake that has a war with the neighboring beigel place.These two places are almost right next to each other, but Brick Lane Coffee is sandwiched between them; as a result, the barista there told us the entire history of their feud. Amber likes the other place, but I prefer Beigel Bake. There are shops and shops of vintage clothing and music. Everyone there is so fashionable that I feel shabby in comparison. I mean, I’m not the most fashionable person, but I really feel out of place walking around there. But it’s such a cool place that I don’t care.

Shoreditch is everything Kensington isn’t. It feels more real, more alive. Kensington is lovely and wonderful, but Shoreditch is vibrant. There’s so much to see and experience there, and that’s what I love about it. It’s not exactly what you’d expect. It’s much more.

Giving Thanks

Happy Thanksgiving from across the pond!

While we don’t have Thanksgiving here, and it’s just another day in London, I figured I would take some time today to be grateful. Not everybody can do study abroad, and I definitely wouldn’t have been able to do it if it weren’t for the help and support of my family. For real, my family is the best and I don’t know where I’d be without them. You might think you have the best family, but you don’t. I do.

If it hadn’t been for my grandparents and my aunts, I quite literally would never have gotten to London. They not only encouraged me to come here, they made it possible. Thank you.

If my parents and sister weren’t so supportive, I emotionally and mentally would not have survived my first week here. Thank you.

“Thank you” might be a simple and easy thing for me to type out, but the depth of my gratitude is impossible to convey. So I’ll leave it at this. I love you guys, I’m thankful for you, and I’ll see you all soon.

Happy Thanksgiving.

Lit Weekend

This weekend was all about books. On Saturday, I went to the Harry Potter experience at the Warner Brothers Studios, and on Sunday, I went to Oxford.

Harry Potter was absolutely amazing. It’s hard to explain why it was as great as it was without giving it all away, so I won’t say much. I’m a big fan of the books and the movies, and the tour was basically all about how the movies were made. I stood in the Great Hall and the Gryffindor Common Room. They kept a lot of the major sets, so I stood where the movies were filmed. It was a tremendous experience, so if you’re ever in the London area and you’re a Harry Potter fan, it’s a must-see. Trust me.

On Sunday, a friend of mine and I went to Oxford. We didn’t really have a plan for what we would do when we got there, so we just hopped on our train. None of the platforms were indoors, so we froze most of the day. England went from having a warm fall to being in the depths of winter overnight. So we were very cold while waiting for trains all day. When we actually got to Oxford, we mostly wandered. We saw libraries and colleges. We did a bit of shopping. I got to see Magdalen College (Pronounced like “Maudlin” because the English pronounce everything weird), which is where C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien taught while they were at Oxford. We had Sunday Roast at The Eagle and Child pub, which is where The Inklings met.

For those of you who don’t know, Lewis and Tolkien were part of a group with other literary types called The Inklings. They got together frequently and talked about their writing and books; early drafts were passed around and discussed. They affectionately referred to the pub as The Bird and Baby. So we had a pint and some roast and some sticky toffee pudding, and all of it was delicious.

We walked. Mostly that’s what we did, even though it was freezing. Oxford’s this tiny little English town with university buildings scattered throughout. The buildings were old and looked like castles, which was very cute. There were times when my friend and I were the only ones on the street, which never happens here in London. It was quiet and nice to be there.

Ultimately, I’m learning that it’s so hard to describe what it’s like to be in these places. I can write all about what I did, but the biggest part of going somewhere is just being there. I like to people watch in every city I go to. Oxfordians were fairly boring and staid compared to the people of London or Paris. There were a lot of students and townies, sort of what you’d find in an American university town, though Oxford was a cuter place than most. It’s crazy to think I only have three more weekends in the UK. I’m only traveling one more weekend, but I’m trying to get everything done in London that I’ve been putting off. It’s a daunting task, especially when paired with finals. My mother also mentioned that I’ve been slacking on my blogging duties. But fear not! I have a few more posts planned that I’ll be adding in the next few weeks, in addition to any travel-related posts. Be prepared, a whole lot of blogging is coming your way soon.

Ireland

I had the pleasure of going on a 10-day tour of the UK and Ireland during my fall break. There was so much to do and see that I don’t know if I did the places I visited much justice. However, I did my best. And today, after being back in Kensington a few days, I’m going to write about part of my trip. Let’s talk about Ireland.

We arrived in Belfast via ferry from Scotland on the sixth day of our journey. Though we were all, by this point, slightly fatigued and worn from days in crowded hostels and stinky buses, we were very ready to explore the city. Belfast is in Northern Ireland, which is part of the United Kingdom. This simple fact continues to cause uproar and unrest among the populace. I did not know this when I stepped foot off the ferry; Belfast is an active terrorist site.

There are two sides to the Belfast story. There are the Loyalists, who are vaguely Protestant in that they support being part of the UK and Church of England. They are Protestant not in the religious sense; a Loyalist does not have to go to church or practice any sort of worship to God. They associate with the UFF, the Ulster Freedom Fighters, who are a wing of the Ulster Defence Association. They are a terrorist organization whose mission is to protect the Loyalist, Protestant people of Belfast. There are also the Republicans, who are vaguely Catholic in that they support a united Ireland. They are associated with the slightly more well-known IRA, the Irish Republican Army. This group got a lot of attention in the 1980s by bombing England and London. They’re the ones responsible for the lack of public trashcans there are in London. I had absolutely no idea that Northern Ireland was so divided.

Our first (and only) full day in Belfast, we did a Black Cab tour of Belfast. They took us around the city and told us about the history. In particular, they showed us the murals. The terrorist groups paint murals on their buildings of their martyrs, which makes the violence part of the everyday life of the people. Though peace was established in Belfast through peace talks and establishing more formal segregation, there are still sporadic bombings, and mob rule is more powerful than the police. The military wings of the Loyalists and Republicans inflict punishment for crimes they see. The police, even when they arrest people, don’t punish anyone; they leave it to the terrorists. Between large Loyalist and Republican sections of the city, large walls have been erected that physically divide the city along their ideological boundaries. Large gates close at night to deter movement between the areas, though they don’t make it impossible to move around the city. It was quite a site to see. Even at the worst parts of US segregation, I don’t think the boundaries were this clear.

Belfast was incredibly interesting, but there really wasn’t that much to do during the nights. There are comedy shows and movies going on, but it’s fairly quiet in the evenings. So I was ready to move on to Dublin, even though we only spent one day in Belfast.

We arrived in Dublin late, so there wasn’t much time to explore. We ended up getting dinner at a bar that was far too posh for us (I was severely under-dressed) before heading over to Whelan’s for some drinks. For those of you who, like me, have no idea why Whelan’s is popular, I can clue you in. Apparently it was used in the Hillary Swank movie “P.S. I Love You.” The girls I was with were very excited about going there. To me, it was just another bar. The next day we did a walking tour through the city, which was not nearly as good as the Black Cab tour the day before in Belfast. The tour guide mostly used her time to try to sell us tickets to a Halloween pub crawl her company hosts every year. However, we saw some cathedrals and castles. She talked about Jonathan Swift and where he’s buried, though we didn’t go to his cathedral or grave. We saw the famous Temple Bar. And we ended at Trinity College, where there was a graduation ceremony going on. We ate lunch at a place called O’Neill’s, which served heaps of traditional Irish food cafeteria style. There was so much food. That evening, we went to the Guinness Storehouse, which was interesting, though it was not as impressive or interesting to me as the Scotch Whisky Experience we did in Edinburgh. Also, Guinness tastes really gross. That’s really all I have to say about that.

On Halloween, we left Dublin for the day to see the Cliffs of Moher and Galway. The Cliffs of Moher, also known to Princess Bride fans as the Cliffs of Insanity, were named for an old fort on the coast of Ireland. Though the fort is long gone, the name remains. Every year, puffins migrate to the Cliffs to nest. Rooks fly around to entertain tourists in exchange for a nibble of their lunches. The grasses around the Cliffs are protected as a nature preserve, so visitors have to stay on the paths. It’s also a safety measure, because they really are cliffs. Many people have died at the Cliffs of Moher. They were absolutely beautiful. The steep rock walls descended forever into the crashing sea. I was so high up over the ocean that the roar of the waves was somewhat muted. Even with all the people rushing around and taking pictures, it was a surprisingly peaceful place to be. Though I felt queasy when I went off the official path to the muddy one with the better views (there was no railing and I thought I was absolutely, positively, definitely going to die this time, and that I was pushing my luck with going to high places without railings after climbing Arthur’s Seat in Edinburgh), it was absolutely worthwhile. The Cliffs of Moher are definitely worth the visit (and the nausea).

Galway is the home of the Claddagh ring. We were only there for two hours, which is an almost comically short amount of time to spend in any place. I had some lunch, then wandered along the main street for a while. It was a cute little town. A river ran through it and there was an impressive, tiny dam. I don’t have much to say about Galway because I wasn’t there for very long. In all, we spent more time on the bus getting to these places than we spent in them, which is always a pet peeve of mine. However, the places we visited were worth visiting, though the deserved more time.

We went back to Dublin that night for the Halloween festivities. In the UK, unlike in America, most places celebrate with bonfires and fireworks. That was the case in Dublin, which was also a little bit foggy that night. The smoke from the fires and the mist combined to create a spooky atmosphere. People thronged around the Temple Bar area, which is where I went with a couple friends. We ended up at Badass Bar, which had some live music. My companions were not very happy about the crowds, which meant we spent the evening upstairs in the restaurant of the bar instead of at the bar, listening to the live music. But, the evening ended up being fun. I don’t think it’s possible to have a bad Halloween night in Dublin.

A friend and I took a ferry from Dublin to Holyhead (which is in Wales), where we got on a train back to London. It was much less stressful than flying, and on that particular day, it was faster. London was under a fairly heavy fog, so all the flights were delayed. Trains, however, aren’t impacted by fog. All-in-all, my trip was a success. I learned a lot about the places I visited, and I experienced staying in hostels for longer periods of time.

I’m aware that I started this blog on the sixth day of my travels. The first days of my trip was in London, which was not particularly interesting, as I live here and didn’t do all that much that was noteworthy (I did the Tower of London, which I will post pictures of). However, Edinburgh, where we went after London, was so incredibly noteworthy that it will require its own blog post, so stay tuned.

Paris

I went to Paris over the weekend. It seemed slightly weird, because it was an international trip and we just had to take a train there. I’m not exaggerating when I say that the train was freaky fast. Seriously, the countryside just whipped by. I was excited that we would be going under the English Channel, but it was uneventful. It just got dark and cold for a while.

We arrived in Paris on Friday evening. After getting settled into our hotel, we took a boat tour down the Seine. My pictures didn’t really turn out because it was dark, but it was spectacular. Paris at night is very cool. It’s a different atmosphere from London. Everything was relaxed. People sat along the banks of the Seine, which were built up with concrete into walkways with benches, and they just drank with friends. We saw Notre Dame, the Louvre, the Eiffel Tower, and much else. We saw the old Lover’s Bridge, which had all the locks cut off because they were too heavy and the bridge was at risk of collapsing. We also saw the new Lover’s Bridge, where people put their locks now. Basically, Paris has too many lovers. The weight of them literally collapses bridges.

On Saturday morning, we went on a bus tour through the city. We didn’t stop often, except for the Palace of Luxembourg, which was given to some queen so she wouldn’t be around when the king was having affairs. Because that’s how French people do it. We also stopped at Les Invalides, which was the military hospital Louis XIV constructed to placate his public. Before Les Invalides, injured soldiers didn’t really receive care, and were left to fend for themselves. At least, that’s what our tour guide told us. Anyways, the place we stopped was the royal chapel, which was built after the hospital as a place for the king to go to mass when he visited the hospital. He wanted to be seen there. Notably, however, the royal chapel is the final burial place of Napoleon. After the revolution, it wasn’t kept as a royal chapel (for obvious reasons), but was instead converted into a mausoleum for military heroes. Thus, Napoleon was interred there.

The last stop on our tour was the Louvre. We all got tickets to go inside, which my group of friends decided to do. We wanted to see the Mona Lisa, and maybe some Roman antiquities, and Monet if we could find him. We saw Mona, who was absolutely beautiful. Copies do not do her justice at all. But after Mona, we wandered through the Greek and Roman antiquities, and we ended up getting rather lost. We tried to leave that wing for over 30 minutes. We had a map. We consulted workers. Nothing helped. By the time we got back to the center of the museum, we were exhausted and feeling rather done with art, so we moved on.

We (stupidly) had decided to walk from the Louvre to the Arc de Triomphe, and from there, we wanted to go to the Eiffel Tower. On a map, these things look fairly close together. In reality, it’s a long walk. However, I’m still glad we did it. On our way to the Arc, we found a little cafe in a park, where we stopped for some water. We relaxed there for a while among the flowers, which was a much needed break after wandering through the Louvre for as long as we did. Then, we made our way to the Champs Elysees, which is the major road with all the shopping. The flagship Louis Vuitton store is along there. We, however, didn’t get to much shopping. Instead, we waited in line at Laduree, the most famous macaron maker in Paris. They revolutionized the art of the macaron. It’s because of Laduree that macarons come in so many flavors, because they invented them. They were by far the best macarons I’ve ever had in my entire life. The chocolate macaron will change your life, but I didn’t have a bad one (and I ate a lot of macarons that day…). It was a bit pricey, but absolutely worth every penny and the wait.

After Laduree, we got to the Arc de Triomphe fairly quickly. If you’ve ever looked at pictures of the Arc, you know that a huge roundabout goes around it. If you’re ever in Paris and you want to go under the Arc, DO NOT TRY TO CROSS THIS ROUNDABOUT! We had been told this before we went (don’t worry mom, I didn’t try to cross the busy road), so we knew what to do. There are tunnels that run under the road that lead up to the Arc. Also, don’t stop and talk to people here. Gypsies try to get people to sign their “petitions” for something or other, and then they pick your pockets.

The Arc de Triomphe was incredible. It’s much bigger than it looks in pictures. The French Unknown Soldier is under the Arc de Triomphe, so it actually isn’t possible to walk under the arc from front to back. There’s a statue of Napoleon on the Arc which I found very interesting. If you know anything about Napoleon, you probably know that his main goal was to recreate the ancient Roman empire for France. What you probably didn’t know is that this obsession with the Roman empire didn’t stop there. He genuinely wanted to be a Roman emperor. So, his statue on the Arc is of him in full Roman attire as a Roman emperor. It’s fitting for this monument, which was intended for the French Army to walk under when they came back to Paris after winning a battle. Unfortunately for the French, the first army to pass through the Arc de Triomphe victorious was the Nazi Army after they took Paris. Oops.

We walked from there through quiet French streets to the Eiffel Tower. As we were walking, we noticed that every single restaurant, salon, and store was closed. We think we were in the Jewish section of Paris, because everything was closed for the Sabbath. It was a very peaceful walk, but it did slightly spoil our plans to stop at a grocer and buy some baguettes, some cheese, fruit, and wine for dinner below the Eiffel Tower. There weren’t grocery stores like that around the Tower, so we had to make other plans for dinner.

The Eiffel Tower wasn’t something I thought I’d enjoy. It’s so touristy, and I thought it would probably be one of those things that was way over-hyped. Oh how wrong I was! The Eiffel Tower is world famous for a reason. It was much bigger than I thought it would be. There was also something so graceful in the iron beams that I absolutely did not expect. This massive engineering feat that was only supposed to stand for 20 years was surprisingly beautiful. Its structure is strong, but also delicate.

We made our way back to the hotel via the Metro, which is the Paris version of the London Tube. To be clear, I understand the Tube because it’s easy to navigate; there are color-coded signs that tell you exactly where each line stops. The French are not so polite in their public transit. There are arrows pointing towards where a line should be, but those arrows are not precisely accurate. Also, they don’t have lists of each stop, so determining which direction you should go on a line is guesswork. And there’s no easy way to get to the platform for the line that goes the other way. I still haven’t worked out how that’s supposed to work. And some of the workers lied when giving us directions just because we were American. To be fair, there were some very helpful workers and people who helped us get where we were going.

We ended up at a cafe right around the corner from our hotel. This was honestly my favorite part of the whole weekend. While it didn’t have the fulfilling and slightly surreal qualities of my visit to Versailles, it was a great time. It was the only time in the whole weekend I felt truly relaxed enough to just enjoy the moment. We chose this cafe because it wasn’t super expensive (they had pints of Stella for €4, which is about £2.5. In London, a pint costs at least £5) and it looked cute. So we went in, sat down, and looked at our menus. Our waiter spoke very little English, so he kept telling us to slow down. Luckily, he was very friendly and very funny, so we got past the language barrier with patience, hand gestures, and Google. He recommended some wine for us, which was really good. I don’t like wine, and I didn’t think this was bad at all. I had a bordeaux, which was very nice. We had some great food (I had this lamb skewer thing that was to die for) and just relaxed with each other. The girls I was with ordered dessert, but I still had macarons left, so I ate those. Since I didn’t order dessert, our waiter brought us out this mint tea. Even though I’ve been living in the land devoted to tea, this was far and away the best tea I’ve ever had in my life. It came in this tiny glass mug. It looked like a shot glass with a tiny handle. There were mint leaves floating in it. It was so minty and strong, but it was perfect after the meal we’d just had. My mouth is watering just thinking about it. I have no idea how they made it, but I want more!

We went to Versailles on Sunday, which was something I’ve always wanted to do. We got there around 9:30, and we waited for about an hour before we got in. It was definitely worth the wait. The rooms were huge, and everything was golden. The ceilings were painted with murals, and the wallpaper was extremely intricate. The first rooms were filled with paintings and models about building and renovating Versailles. Then there were rooms that had been filled with replica furniture to look like they probably looked during its prime. There were tour groups all over the place, which made it hard to get around. The tour leaders had microphones and all the tourists had headphones in so they could hear their leaders, which basically meant they weren’t paying any attention to anything else around them. So they were pretty terrible to deal with because they have separation anxiety or something that means they can’t be more than one foot away from another person in their group.

I think the best thing about being in Versailles was knowing its history. It’s such a peaceful, beautiful place, but there was such violence there. The royals treated their people horribly, but it’s easy to see why the state of their people didn’t much bother them. Versailles is way outside Paris, so they didn’t come into contact with the ordinary people very often, and they lived in such a beautiful place that they really had no incentive to leave. We didn’t have enough time to see the gardens or the grounds, which is slightly disappointing. I’d go back to spend a few days at Versailles, but honestly I think I could pass on Paris again.

After being in London for a month, I’ve gotten used to the pace of things. London is efficient, but friendly. If you can’t figure out where you’re supposed to be going, you can just ask someone and they’ll do their best to help. They walk quickly and they don’t waste their time. Life moves fast here. Paris is very different. People stroll everywhere, without any sense of time. They purposely send you in the wrong direction if you’re not French. The city smells like urine all the time. There’s garbage, feces, and pee everywhere. They claim they employ thousands of maintenance workers to keep the city clean, but you’d never know it. London might not have very many garbage cans, but it somehow keeps orderly. It’s a very different vibe. I’m not saying I’d never go back to Paris. I would. There are still some things I would like to see. But I think I would do it differently. For one thing, I’d find a way to drive or ride a scooter or something, because the metro was a nightmare. I wouldn’t want to deal with that again. But I would like to see Notre Dame, which I didn’t get a chance to go into or really look at for a long time. I’d go back to Versailles. I could spend more time at the Louvre. The shopping there is great, the history is rich, but the culture doesn’t appeal to me.

It’s nice to be back in London, and I’m looking forward to getting out of the city more often.