Jonesing for London

I've got it bad. That feeling of hopeful longing that soon turns into a pang in my stomach, because I don't know how long it will be until I get back there. London, that is. Just a year ago, my room was cluttered with lists, piles of clothes, and vacuum storage bags in preparation for my semester abroad. I was also in the beginning stages of creating this here blog so that I could keep in touch with everyone back in the States. Even though I've been back for eight months, there are just times when I can't help but wish I still lived there.

A photo from my seats in Emirates Stadium

Yesterday was one of those days. For a fun family activity, we all decided to go see Harry Potter since my brother and my parents hadn't seen it. In one scene, Harry, Ron, and Hermione apparate to Shaftesbury Avenue. This was the trigger. I walked along Shaftesbury Ave. every single day to get to class, and just seeing it briefly in the movie made me long for some Café Nero. Then we went home, and lo and behold, Arsenal was playing Chelsea at Emirates Stadium. They showed a bird's eye view of the stadium and the surrounding area, and my brother paused the shot to try and figure out where the tube stop was and where we walked to get into the stadium when we saw them play in April. Tugging at my heart strings. Then, when I thought my longing was about to subside, we decided to go to the Pub for dinner. While it certainly doesn't have the character of the Exmouth Arms with the jukebox and blue icicle lights in the window, they do have Guinness on tap, and two of those sent me into a serious downward spiral of angst, desiring nothing more than a trip to Waitrose and some Chutney Raj. This morning, my mom came home from the grocery store, and she bought Nutella. Now this doesn't necessarily seem like a huge event, but Mom has never bought Nutella before, and the only time I have ever had Nutella was in London. On toast, with apples, or just out of the jar on a spoon, that stuff is delicious. The taste of it jogged memories of slathering the delicious spread on HobNobs that were mistakenly bought without the chocolate. To top it all off, walking downtown to the Caps game tonight, I see that they're putting in a Wagamama right by the Verizon Center, a sweet Indian fusion restaurant I went to soon after I arrived in London.

Don't get me wrong, I love being home. But the moments I realize that I'll never have the experience of studying abroad again definitely make me sad. Sure, I can go back and visit for a week, but it will never be the same as living in the center of the city, seeing shows on a weekly basis, going out to a new pub every night, and then rolling into bed with taxis whizzing down Farringdon Road outside my window, lulling me to sleep. The only thing to do now is see if anyone is hiring in London. Maybe I could get Hal's job as the administrative assistant at the ND London Center. Goes to show you how liberal ND gets across the pond. If that doesn't work out, if anyone's got a job opening in England give me a shout. I'm in a very vulnerable position right now, desperately wanting both a job and an excuse to go back to London.

Christmas Eve Gym Rush

If you're reading this today, I'm thinking that you've probably run out of excuses for disappearing from all of the family togetherness, and have resorted to reading this humble post on your smartphone while pretending to participate in the scheduled family activity. I justified my "me time" today with a trip to the gym because they have the sweetest elliptical machines. The Precor AMT is really much more than an elliptical - it's an "Adaptive Motion Trainer" which means that you do all of the work and it provides the resistance. It has a huge range of motion, and you can use it as a simple stair-stepper, a standard elliptical, or get your whole body going in a hybrid elliptical/gazelle motion. I got spoiled by these machines this summer, and while Rolfs has two of them, they are always taken. Hence I treated myself to 45 minutes of cross-training on this bad boy.

While I was blissfully chugging away on my AMT, I realized just how many people were at the gym on Christmas Eve. My gym is not that big and there are plenty of times when I go in and it's me, one white-haired golfer, and the guy who works the front desk. I just chuckled to myself thinking about all of the family gatherings these people were escaping - Cousin Eddie, Dirty Uncle Sal, or maybe even a Meet the Parents situation. Luckily I'm not escaping anything that outrageous, so I'll count my blessings. I also got to see this gem of a commercial, which made me think about my family down in Alabama. Merry Christmas. Roll Tide.

Why I'll Never Run a Marathon

One of my dear friends from high school, Ammer (who I've know for most of my life, really), texted me on Monday and asked me if I wanted to "chaperone" a trip to New York that her sister and friends had "planned". Naturally, I took her up on the offer, and thus thwarted any efforts for blog posts on Monday or yesterday.

Our charges, while being wonderfully bright young women,  had no expectations for their trip to the big city, and no plans besides taking the bus to and from New York. Ammer is a shamelessly meticulous planner, and while I've learned to "go with the flow" somewhat in college, I just function better if there is at least a bare-bones itinerary for my day. I don't care if that itinerary is "wake up, do nothing for a while, have dinner, and do more nothing," but at least there's a plan for all the nothingness. So we made a plan for the girls to see the big things - Times Square, Empire State Building, Rockefeller Center - and then scheduled in some shopping and meeting up with some of our sophisticated city friends along the way, including my cousin J.

I am by no means the most accomplished runner in my family. One of my cousins is 25 and she has already run 6 marathons. Her sister, "J" for the blog, was a stud cross country runner for her college, just completed her first marathon, qualifying for the Boston Marathon (3:30 or under). J now lives and works in New York, and she and Ammer were best friends before my cousins moved to New York when we were all in middle school. I'll spare you all of the strange and coincidental overlap between my life and Ammer's, but we decided to meet up with J for lunch and catch up.

We met at a hole-in-the-wall Jewish deli by Madison Square Park, and after ordering our soups and sandwiches, J briefly mentioned the marathon she ran in the fall, but clarified that she isn't "cut out for distance races". I just looked at her and thought, "if you aren't cut out for distance races, then who is?" J just screams RUNNER as soon as you look at her - thin, petite, strong, and totally fit. She explained that she just wanted to qualify for Boston and say that she did it. But she also said that she had to take two weeks off from work leading up to the race, and since the marathon, she hasn't been able to run and it still hurts to walk up the stairs. Two reasons why I'll never run a marathon, and the inspiration for this list.

Why I'll Never Run a Marathon
1) The first guy to run a marathon died. Pheidippides.

2) I don't have time. 65 mile weeks are a huge time commitment, and I'm just not willing to sacrifice my social life or Top Chef to get my training done.

3) I run to stay healthy. It seems that everyone who runs a marathon gets hurt. Physically or mentally. People either can't run at all after the marathon because of an injury, or they don't even run the marathon because they get hurt during training. Then there are those who just get burned out. They get sick of training, tired of running. I still love running. I'm not willing to risk losing that just for a race.

4) Four hours is a long time.  It's a long time to do anything without stopping. I mean, if someone said, "Do your favorite thing in the world for four hours straight," I'd probably choose to sit at a bar and drink Guinness. But drinking Guinness for four hours straight is a comparable feat of physical prowess to running a marathon, since you'd probably end up like our friend Pheidippides. Frankly, the only person I know who could do it is Kevin, and Guinness runs through that man's veins.

5) Triathlon first. I'm a huge fan of cross-training. And if my cross-training was built right into my race training, I'd say sign me up! I'm much more excited about doing a triathlon than running a marathon, and it just makes more sense than running myself into the ground.

6) I won't do it alone. Agreeing to be a running partner in a marathon is like entering into a mini-marriage without the paperwork. I need someone who will talk when I need to talk, let me zone in with Lil' Wayne when I need a pump up, and will push me towards the finish line. A running partner sees you at your highest highs and lowest lows in a marathon. The perfect running partner is not something to be taken lightly.

This is all to say that I'm willing to be convinced. If you find me in a weakened state, say at the end of a half marathon during the endorphin high and say things like, "It's just like this, but twice," I'd probably say, "Hell yeah!" and then curse you on my sixteen mile training run. If at some point I have the perfect running buddy, a few triathlons under my belt, and all sorts of free time, and still feel like my race resume is lacking that quintessential marathon, then I might suck it up and do it. But until then, I'm perfectly content. In fact, I still love running, and I'd like to keep it that way for a little while longer.

TOMORROW: You made how many cookies today? Yeah, that many. It's Christmas y'all.

Winter Break...Finally

It's been a whirlwind of a week with final papers, exams, and far too many cups of coffee, but I'm finally home for winter break. The house is in prime condition for a good ol' fashioned family Christmas, complete with a monstrous 12 foot tree in the foyer. Little full, lot of sap.


NEWS: My roommate and I had been talking about running a half marathon over break, and we finally decided on the Naples Daily News Half Marathon on January 16. When we were running together a little more than a week ago, she mentioned that she wanted to run a race down there, but didn't want to do it alone. I had been bumming that my next opportunity to run a half wouldn't be until April, and I had no reason why I couldn't go. So I looked up flights and figured out my schedule and now we're going!

I'm definitely excited, but I think my biggest challenge will be doing my long runs leading up to the race in the cold, and then having to run the race when it's 75 degrees outside. I'm pretty resilient when it comes to running in the cold, but I'm a big fat baby in the heat - my body just doesn't respond well. I'm convinced that my body has a Pavlovian response to certain climates. I grew up as a beach bum, conditioned by my family to be wonderfully content lying in a chaise lounge in the sun for hours on end reading a book. Once I got to college and started running, I was so adverse to the idea of running on a treadmill that I would put on as many clothes as necessary to brave the Midwest winter winds just so I could get my workout in. Now, when the air is warm and the sun hits my face, I collapse as if Prof. Lockhart removed all of my bones. But if a brisk winter wind hits my cheeks, I get this automatic surge of adrenaline. The race starts early enough that I don't think I need to be too concerned about the heat, but it's definitely on my mind.

Despite my climate concern, I'm totally stoked about the race. Kaitlin is a great running partner, and the impending race will keep me on track during the season of copious cookies and bountiful booze. I have heard that beer is a good recovery drink though...

As a side note, I've got some goals/ plans for my break, so that I'm not a completely useless human being.

GOALS:

1)Apply for Jobs. All of them. Maybe even get an interview?

2) Cook. I'd like to get a few more quick recipes under my belt for next semester so that I'm not constantly eating grilled chicken and green beans on the days I'm short on time.

3) Read. I've got a few books on my list already, but any recommendations?

PLANS:
1) Christmas! Pretty self-explanatory. Lots of family. Lots of food. Lots of Christmas music. Lots of Scrabble.
 
2) San Francisco! I'm visiting my brother who moved out there in August, and he's been talking about it since we made the plans in September. I can't wait to drink all sorts of delicious wine, eat delicious food, and maybe get him to go for a quick jog with me one morning.

2)Naples Half Marathon! Or, running off all of the food I ate during the other two events.

Study Break

Finals are in full swing, which also means that people are getting creative with their procrastination. Some people clean, some people sporcle, but I go for runs in a snow storm and then write about it. Frankly, it's a win-win situation. I get to take a break from memorizing the conflicts between the Church and State in Europe and Latin America, and you get to do a little procrastination of your own by reading it. You're welcome.

You know that you've lived in South Bend for four years when you look at the weather and it's 31 degrees, but with windchill it feels like 18, and you think you should go for a run. You know that hell has frozen over (pun intended) when your roommate from California says, "That's pretty reasonable." Ignoring my better judgment, I bundled up and set out on a four mile trek through the Notre Dame tundra. This time I brought my camera and took pictures. I'm pretty happy with how these turned out, provided that the last few were taken after the outside corners of my eyelashes had frozen together and snow and ice had built up on my eyebrows like Jack Frost. 

I didn't even wear my watch yesterday since I knew that it was going to be somewhat of a slow-going treacherous run. None of the paths had been plowed and since it had rained the day before, there was this pleasant layer of ice underneath all of the snow that was still coming down. Fortunately, the fresh snow gave me some traction, but I was still pretty conscious of my footfalls. Maybe I need to invest in these. Or these. Or this. (click the links to see them). Happy procrastinating!

The road between campus and my apartment. The footprints are from two guys on the cross country team, which made me feel real legit.

The endless wind tunnel of South Quad.

God Quad. I tried to get this picture from Main Circle, but it was snowing so hard I couldn't see anything.

I run by this all the time. When it's as quiet as it was yesterday it always makes me think of how special this place is.

 

 

 

The Classiest Christmas

Despite it being finals, this is the best time of year. I'll give you some reasons why:

Kenzie's Birthday

There isn't a person who loves fun or Christmas more than Kenzie. Well, maybe Buddy the Elf, but he hasn't responded to our party invitations. She turned 22 on Thursday which was conveniently our last day of classes, so we had a bunch of our friends over to celebrate before going out to Michiana's Largest Dance Club, a seriously classy establishment. Needless to say, all of that birthday bliss and Christmas cheer resulted in a pretty stellar night.

"Study Days"
Or shall I say, sit around, watch Friends, order Jimmy Johns, and go to the mall days. I mean, I just passed in two huge papers and my first exam isn't til Tuesday, so I think that one day of the aforementioned agenda is totally deserved. At least that's what I'm telling myself.

Snowy Runs
You know that I couldn't spend a day in which I literally had nothing to do and not run. My roommate* Kaitlin and I bundled up and went for a run down by the scenic St. Joe's River. We didn't think about the fact that the path would be completely covered in ice and snow, even though Notre Dame Ave. still isn't plowed...oh well. Despite the mildly treacherous conditions, the sun was out and and we had a glorious run. I even brought my camera with the intention of taking a good blog photo, but I was in the zone and totally failed. Rookie Blogger Ooops.

*There are five people that I will refer to as my roommate at any given time. We have three adjacent apartments so we don't all live together Per Se, but we have all lived together at one point or another. We've recently determined that our main goal in life  is to open a gym in Denver with a Sweet Green next door. Kaitlin and Maggie and I are getting our personal trainer certification next semester, so we'll be totally qualified.

Classy Christmas

Every year, the boys host a lovely party which has come to be the highlight of the Christmas season. Everyone puts on a classy Christmas outfit, the boys make hors d'oeuvres, and we celebrate the season in style. Last night was our last classy Christmas, so we went out with a bang. The boys bought wine,  Kenzie made peppermint bark, and Scott made a delicious artichoke dip. I think we're well on our way to becoming real people who host real parties. I mean, we still had to have a sing along to Pursuit of Happiness (the remix of course), but we're making progress.

Doesn't get much classier than Deegs in a Santa hat.

Part II: Vanishing Gingerbread Biscotti

When it looks like this outside my apartment window,

The only thing that I want is one of these:

Gingerbread Biscotti dipped in Chocolate. If you're thinking, "Mmmm that sounds absolutely delicious," then you should go ahead and stop everything you're doing and make these. Like now. Seriously. If you're thinking, "I'm not so sure about the whole chocolate-gingerbread combo," then you should also drop everything and make these too, or at least try one from the batch that the people from the first group made.

My friends and I decided that in order to preserve our sanity during finals and to make sure we were properly reveling in the Christmas season, we would set aside a few evenings to make a Christmas cookie and listen to Christmas music or watch a Christmas movie. I decided to bake first since I was itching to try this recipe, and needless to say, it was a hit. One last picture before the recipe? Okay.

Gingerbread Biscotti
from Allrecipes

1/3 cup vegetable oil
1 cup white sugar
3 eggs
1/4 cup molasses
2 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
1 cup whole wheat flour
1 tablespoon baking powder
1 1/2 tablespoons ground ginger
3/4 tablespoon ground cinnamon
1/2 tablespoon ground cloves
1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees F (190 degrees C). Grease a cookie sheet.

In a large bowl, mix together oil, sugar, eggs, and molasses. In another bowl, combine flours, baking powder, ginger, cinnamon, cloves, and nutmeg; mix into egg mixture to form a stiff dough.

Divide dough in half, and shape each half into a roll the length of the cookie. Place rolls on cookie sheet, and pat down to flatten the dough to 1/2 inch thickness.

Bake in preheated oven for 25 minutes. Remove from oven, and set aside to cool.
When cool enough to touch, cut into 1/2 inch thick diagonal slices. Place sliced biscotti on cookie sheet, and bake an additional 5 to 7 minutes on each side, or until toasted and crispy.

Once cool, dip one side in melted semi-sweet chocolate. Refrigerate until chocolate is hard. 

I personally think this is my new favorite Christmas cookie. The combination of the spicy, aromatic gingerbread and the smooth, semi-sweet chocolate is a crazy good balance, and nothing beats a cookie that you can get away with eating for breakfast with your coffee. Also, if you decide to take the time to do a prettier dipping job than I did - my friends weren't too concerned with the aesthetics - they would make for a beautiful little Christmas treat to package up in cellophane bags. Add Martha Stewart's Chocolate Pistachio Biscotti and people might start placing orders.

Part I: The Anthropology of Rolfs

It's finally winter here - snow is on the ground, Christmas decorations are up, and the South Bend permacloud has set in. That means two things: moving my workouts to Rolfs and making Gingerbread Biscotti.

Yesterday I went to the gym on campus since I had gone for a pretty long run Thursday and wasn't really feeling another cold run, but I hadn't been there to lift weights very recently since I had allotted the majority of my workout time to training for my race. I walked in, took off my coat and sweats, put on my headphones, and walked over to the lat pulldown bar to start my first circuit. During my first set, I realized that I was the only girl on that side of the gym - all of the other girls were across the gym using the cardio machines. Once I had that in my head, it felt like all of the guys lifting weights were looking at me as though I had eight heads or was some rare species encroaching on their territory. Clearly, the unspoken consensus in Rolfs is that girls do cardio and boys lift weights, and cross-training doesn't exist. This may be a reflection on the gender dynamics at Notre Dame or maybe I'm just misinterpreting innocent glances at my obnoxiously bright tie-dyed shirt, but after a brief poll of my roommates, it seems that I'm not the only one who has noticed this at Rolfs. The far side of the gym is totally intimidating because the gym-rat guys are always hanging around, looking at their biceps in the mirror more than they are actually exercising, and the gym-rat girls get miffed when some dude in on her favorite treadmill.

The point of posting this observation is not to whine or preach, but simply to say that girls shouldn't be intimidated by the weight room and guys could benefit from swapping a lifting day for a good treadmill sesh. I'm mean, I'm by no means Jillian Michaels, but this summer, her book Making the Cut taught me how to lift weights so that my cross-training was more effective - strength training actually improved my running - stronger legs and core made me faster with much more endurance. It's also true that no matter how much weight you're lifting, the only way to burn fat is to pump up your heart rate, so incorporating cardio into your workout will give you more definition and tone.

I feel like this is all interconnected with the ultimate goal of a healthy lifestyle. A balanced workout is part of a balanced lifestyle. Yes I prefer running to lifting, but I also prefer my Cinnamon Harvest Kashi to scrambled eggs for breakfast. A wise person said that variety is the spice of life, and I'm a total believer in that sentiment. Shake things up, try something new. You might find something that you really love, or it will just make the usual that much better once you go back to it.

Coming up: Vanishing Gingerbread Biscotti. It's that good.

Back in the Kitchen

For the past six weeks, the extent of my kitchen use has been putting milk and apples in the fridge and occasionally popping a frozen Kashi meal in the microwave and putting it in a Gladware container so I could eat it at rehearsal. Now that I have significantly more free time - 24 hours a week to be exact - I thought that it was time to reacquaint myself with some of the more exciting things in my kitchen. Granted, last night  I just grilled some chicken and sauteed some peppers and onions for dinner, but I've really been itching to try a new chocolate chip cookie recipe. While the Manfred family recipe for CCC's is pretty legendary, they are not exactly a guilt-free indulgence. With a stick of butter, some shortening and a cup and a half of sugar, they are the no-holds-barred delicious epitome of what a CCC should be. For my attempt at a healthier variation, I decided to start with the classic CCC recipe from Cooking Light, and with a couple of modifications, I think that I landed on a pretty legit cookie for only about 120 calories.

Chocolate Chip Cookies
modified from Cooking Light Magazine, June 2007

1 3/4 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup firmly packed brown sugar
1/2 cup granulated sugar
1/4 cup butter (half a stick), softened
1/4 cup of I Can't Believe It's Not Butter baking stick, softened
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 large egg
3/4 cup semi-sweet chocolate chips

Lightly spoon flour into dry measuring cups; level with a knife. Combine flour, baking soda, and salt, stirring with a whisk.

Combine sugars and butter in a large bowl; beat with a mixer at medium speed until well blended.
Add vanilla and egg; beat until creamy. Add flour mixture and chips; beat until blended.

Drop dough by level tablespoons 2 inches apart onto baking sheets lined with parchment paper. Bake at 350° for 11 minutes or until lightly browned. Cool on pans for 2 minutes. Remove from pans; cool completely on wire racks.

I'll try and work on my food photography, but even the Cookie Queen Liza  said that they were delicious. If you make them, let me know what you think! I'm open to suggestions.

And so it begins

Winter that is. Well, at least after tomorrow. I classify fall with football, leaves changing colors, and the perfect running outfit - shorts and long-sleeves. It's the best outfit there is, especially since it means that the weather is perfect for running.There tends to be a key temperature range for the variations of the shorts/long-sleeve combo which falls between 50 and 60 degrees and there's usually a bit of a brisk wind and some sunshine that is warm enough once you get started that you don't get the cold rubber legs, but not warm enough for that hot sticky feeling. If it's a little colder and one layer just won't cut it, throw on a vest, which keeps your core warm but still keeps your arms free - my favorite running layer by far.

South Bend has had a slow build up to winter, and it is somewhat of a miracle that November 29th is going to be a high of 50. Unfortunately, after tomorrow the temps for the next ten days are all between 35 and 45, which means tomorrow is the last day I get to run in my fall outfit. It's a bitter-sweet day, knowing that I'll soon be running and my nose will freeze together (seriously) and frost will form on the surface of my DriFit jacket, but it also means that boots, cashmere, hats and scarves will all be reintroduced into my wardrobe, and cashmere makes everything better. So tomorrow I'm going to bust out my shorts for the last time until April and tuck my hands into my sleeves so my fingers don't get cold, and I'm going to revel in the last day of fall, and maybe jump in a pile of leaves while I'm out. I mean come on, it's a celebration.

Back from hiatus

Sorry for the extended leave of absence I took from the blog! I didn't really know what to do with this thing once I got back from London, but while I was running my half-marathon on Halloween, I realized how much I missed it, and decided to start brainstorming for the 2.0 version of Coffee for Lunch. Hence the redesign.

I'll start with a highlight of my fall. The Chicago Monster Dash Half Marathon. While I've been running consistently, I hadn't run a half since my sophomore year, and I decided that the only way that I was going to stay in shape while juggling my hectic schedule was to plan my runs into my schedule and tell myself, "You have to run. You've got a race. You have to." I trained alone, and there were plenty of days when I woke up and thought, "I could certainly do something more productive with this time than run 9 miles", but I did it anyway, and it paid off.

The day before race day was Notre Dame vs. Tulsa, which was particularly soul-crushing with the clarity of a purely H2O pregame due to the race the next day.  I was planning on making the trek to Chicago alone, but I miraculously convinced my buds Ali, Scott, and Josh to hop in the car with me and meet me at the finish line in the morning.

I was nervous and wired the night before the race (which started at 8am) so I didn't get a great night of sleep, but I had packed my Gladware container of Kashi GoLean and shamelessly brought it into the hotel restaurant and ordered some skim milk and coffee as a pre-race meal. At mile 10 I was really wishing that I had ordered two scrambled eggs as well since it felt like my stomach was caving in, but I had no interest in running on a full stomach.

I walked over to the Start line in Grant Park, stretched, warmed-up, and joined my fellow 2:00 runners. The most frustrating thing about the race was the first two miles. It was a narrow course until we got out to the lake, so I wasn't able to get to my race pace until I was well into my third mile. The course was beautiful - all along the waterfront through Lincoln Park and then a loop back around, and  the weather was perfect - a brisk and sunny low 50s morning. The only problem was that I finished 3 minutes over my goal time, even though I was trucking it to compensate for my slow start and having to stop and take off my jacket and re-pin my number. I know 2:03 isn't horrible, but I knew going into the race that I could finish in under 2 hours.

Weeks went by and I was content with my race, but not super-psyched about it. There was that twinge of failure still haunting the race and a lot of "what if I had just worn long sleeves and a vest? What if I had placed myself in a different pace corral?" Then I was eating dinner one night and I got an e-mail from the Monster Dash people apologizing because the day before the race, they were told that they either needed to re-route the race or cancel it. They re-routed, but instead of only being 13.1 miles, it was 13.4. It was a total rookie mistake, but I felt totally vindicated. The real distance meant that I had actually made my goal time. Granted, my official printed time will never be 1:59, but the satisfaction of knowing that the race was .3 miles longer than it should have been is good enough for me.

Things I Learned:
1) Wear neon. You can't tell from the pictures, but my shirt is about as florescent pink as they come. And it was so fun to run in. Neon just makes things happier, and makes it easier for your friends to spot you.
2) Bring Friends. The last mile would have been miserable if I hadn't seen anyone there cheering me on. Just knowing that there is someone at the finish line who is going to hug you a give you a piggy-back ride to the diner for breakfast makes all the difference.
3) Start with F**k You. By Cee Lo Green. Unedited. The happiest song to run to, but it also has that attitude that you need in the swarming packs of people at the beginning of a race.
4) Pin your number on your pants. I had some serious layer issues. The only solution was that I should have just pinned my number to my leg instead of any of the tops I was wearing because then they can always see it.
5) It's just as much of a mental race as it is physical. When you're out there for 13.4 miles essentially alone, there is a lot of self-motivation that needs to happen. Even if your legs get tired, it's easy to push through if your mind is focused. But if you're not mentally prepared, all of the physical training just falls apart. I cheesed like a fool at the photographers, ran like Phoebe, and jammed to Rush's Spirit of the Radio. Whatever works, right?

Any other race day tips? What's the best race (half-marathon or other) that you've ever done?

In Memory of My Feelings...

...is probably my favorite poem. It's by Frank O'Hara, and I'd make a link to it, but it's an epic poem (in the most literary sense of epic) in five parts and they are not all online. If you haven't read it I highly recommend it. The only reason I bring it up is because I leave London in the wee hours of Saturday morning, and the thought of that time rapidly approaching is making me feel pretty nostalgic, but is also making me think of my favorite line from the poem. It goes, "Grace, to be born and live as variously as possible". I think that the line carries such a beautiful sentiment with it - you have such an overwhelming capacity to live your life in so many ways, but there is a divinity in exploring all of your opportunities, all of your identities. Looking back on my semester, London was just an opportunity, another variety of life. And in memory of that, I think I owe it to myself to bring that perspective back home with me. Take advantage of opportunities. Say yes. Live as variously as possible.

Friends Around Town

As I'm sure you've all heard, there has been a mild amount of chaos around here due to a cloud of volcanic ash from Iceland hovering around the UK and most of continental Europe. Unfortunately, I was one of the many victims and my weekend trip to Zurich was canceled. For as much as I wanted to go to Zurich (and still do for that matter) it was somewhat of a blessing in disguise because I was still recovering from being pretty violently ill for most of the week, and I also had a big research paper due on Tuesday, which would have never happened if I didn't have the weekend to work on it. Saturday was the first day since I had been sick that I finally felt up to leaving the flat, and since it was a beautiful day, I decided to stroll over to St. James' Park with my book and do some lounging/reading/people watching.

On the way to the park, I stopped by the London Center because I had received an e-mail saying that I had mail. Just to preface, right around the corner from school is the meeting point/drop-off point for the Sightseeing Tours of London on big double-decker buses. Everyday when I walk to school, the same guy is out there, and he always says something to say to me. Usually it's an off-hand comment about I never bring him coffee (since more often than not I'm holding a Starbucks cup), and sometimes he'll say, "give me a smile!", usually if I'm not holding a coffee cup (there is a direct correlation between me smiling and having coffee). Well Saturday I was walking with my headphones in (listening to the Harry Potter books, which is totally awesome walking around London), and when I walked by, this guy who is usually pretty casual, stopped me, motioned me to take my headphones out and the dialogue went something like this
Tour Guy: "I see you everyday. Do you work here?"
Me: "No, I'm studying here for the semester."
Tour Guy: "from that smile I can see you're from the States. Whereabouts?"
Me: "Uh, Washington, D.C."
Tour Guy: "That's great. Why are you studying on a beautiful Saturday?"
Me: "Just going to the park."
Tour Guy: "Ah, well then, have a lovely day!"

For as harmless and as odd as this interaction was, it prompted me to think about the other friends I've made just around town. Here are a few:

Kevin: Probably my best London friend. He's the regular bartender at Exmouth Arms, also the man who taught me how to pour the perfect pint of Guinness. He's from Belfast but he moved to London almost twenty years ago. Some of the other kids and I are thinking about pooling our money and flying Kevin to South Bend next year. We love him that much.

The Starbucks Girl: She is just the sweetest Eastern European girl. She's almost always there when I go, and when I go up to the counter she says, "tall coffee no room?" Ah, yes that would be lovely! Gotta love it when they know your order. Just makes me feel at home.

The Orsini Guy: This is the sandwich shop around the corner from school when I tend to pop in for lunch. They make some delicious take-away sandwiches for pretty cheap, including a clutch chicken, brie, and cranberry sauce sandwich on ciabatta bread that they put in the panini press took make it all warm, melty and delicious. The Orsini Guy always gives me the biggest smile when I walk in, and while he's making my sandwich he always strikes up a conversation. "How was your spring break?" "Where are you traveling this weekend?" "Did you have a nice time with your family?" And when I'm being indecisive about the sandwich I'm going to order he always makes good recommendations. Just nice to know that he's got my best interests at heart.

These are the people that make London feel homey. In such a big city, a sense of familiarity makes a world of difference, even if you don't know their names.

Love/Hate

No, this is not a shameless promotion for New Balance, but they do have a point (and my horribly dated reference is a clear illustration of how long I've been away). I've got a little less than four weeks left of studying abroad, and the only comparable feeling that I've ever had to what I'm feeling now is 3/4 of the way through summer camp when you wake up and you're so excited for all of the fun stuff that happens the last few days, but you really don't want to shower wearing flip-flops anymore and you haven't really gotten a good night of sleep and every day your privacy is becoming more and more precious.

It's pretty similar here. This weekend a group of us went to Nice, and for as lovely as it was, the combination of laying out on the beach, reading a book for pleasure for once, seeing my family last week, and knowing that summer is in the very foreseeable future, I'm experiencing some serious love/hate feelings every day. The first thing that really prompted this sentiment was waiting in the arrivals area at the Nice airport for my friends to arrive (I was on a different flight that got in a little earlier). In my first-ever blogging attempt I expressed my love/hate relationship with airports. So sitting in the arrival gate, I saw all sorts of reunions - husbands and wives, boyfriends and girlfriends, parents and children - and it just made me so happy, but it also made me ache a little bit every time, since I want nothing more than to be reunited with all of the people who I haven't seen in so long.

But instead of harping on the things that I will certainly NOT miss about my abroad experience - hostels, small kitchens with dirty dishes, RyanAir, horrendously long trips on public transportation, cars speeding up in attempts to hit you when you cross the street - I think it would be better to list all the things that I LOVE about London.

The Pub Culture: Frankly, there's really nothing like it. Knowing that no matter where you are, there;s a place where you can sit down in a comfy chair and have a drink and chat with friends. It's really nothing like bars, because if you find the right one it like your own living room with a whole bunch of beer on tap. And if you find a good one, they have board games and delicious food too. What's not to love.

Walking Everywhere: I would be lying if I said that I didn't miss driving, but I have grown to love walking as my form of commuting. It's a great way to see the city and it is very conducive to exploring new ways of getting places. And unfortunately, I very rarely feel guilty about stopping at the pub because, hey! I walked all over the city today! I've definitely earned that Guinness. (TANGENT: Guinness. It just doesn't taste the same in the states. I honestly don't know what I'm going to do when I go home...)

The Theater: I have seen more than my fair share of shows while I've been here, but there are going to be so many that I haven't seen and wanted to when I get on the plane to go home. I mean, South Bend is great, but it's not exactly a hub of arts and culture...

HobNobs, Crunchy Nut, Waitrose in general: HobNobs are a "knobbly and oaty" biscuit covered in dark chocolate on one side, which I've only ever seen at Waitrose. A delicious invention and great with coffee. Crunchy Nut (the "nutty" variety) is one of the most delicious cereals, and I've only ever found it at the Waitrose, too. Basically I'm going to miss my grocery store and all of it's beautiful, delicious things. The Martin's down the street from my apartment just won't be the same.

Jet-Setting: I guess it's good for my bank account that I won't be able to travel around the world nearly as easily when I go home, but I am definitely going to miss being able to fly to some exotic location for the weekend. By the time I get home, I will have six different countries stamps in my passport just from this semester, and that doesn't even count the different cities I visited in the same country. Pretty sweet.

And so the countdown begins. 25 days of walking, theater, Crunchy Nut, and traveling to hold me over until I get the chance to come back!

Taking Advantage of Nothing

Wow. Have I been a total blogger failure or what. I just said goodbye to my family after their week-long visit to London and decided it would be a good time to blog, and then realized that I haven't blogged in two weeks. It has frankly been indescribably busy here since the spring break Q&A post - professors cramming in papers and assignments before the long Easter weekend, planning a skeletal itinerary for my family's visit, and also doing my best to actively take advantage of London while I'm still here, since I'm only abroad for four more weeks! Since March 24, I've done a ton of great London things - Camden Market, Borough Market, three plays and another tonight, a visit to the Churchill War Rooms, a tour of Westminster Abbey, and much more. For as cool as that stuff is, something that I have realized since my arrival in London is that you really can't beat just going to the pub around the corner, having a pint with the guys, and doing nothing in particular.

For me, when I was back on campus and especially in high school, I always felt like I was going going going and if I wasn't doing something right at that second, I was thinking about the plan for the next thing. I'd have to plan "Me Time" which was scheduled relaxation, basically. But here, even though I'm far busier than I anticipated, without having to go to 3-4 hour rehearsals every night and also having to cook most of my own meals, the dynamic of my routine is much more conducive to socializing and just enjoying the moment. I cook with my friends and then we sit down and eat together, we walk two minutes to Exmouth Arms for a beer afterward, and we just shoot the breeze talking about nothing in particular. Maybe this reflection is prompted by the rapidly approaching May 8, when I know I'll be back in the States looking at a summer full of work and also looking at senior year in which I'll need to make some decisions about what I'm going to do with the rest of my life. But if London has taught me nothing else, it's definitely taught me to live in the moment. I know now that when I'm freaking out about not getting an internship that I really wanted or deciding whether or not to apply for jobs or go to grad school or trying to write my senior thesis, I can just take a step back and say that there's plenty of time. I'll call up the boys, find the nearest bar with Guinness on tap, and just remember those nights in London when we really don't do anything - the best nights there are.

Q&A Spring Break Style

It's here! The Spring Break Post! And all thanks to the lovely, talented, and totally loyal Liza Manfred. Let's get to it.

1. What was the ratio of hours spent in transit to hours spent in cities? Basically, was it worth it?
Well, simply, yes. The whole trip was totally worth it. However, I could have dealt without the flight from Florence to Madrid to Barcelona. I didn't investigate the options since I tagged along to this spring break plan a little late, but apparently this was the cheaper option than flying straight to Barcelona. We had to leave Florence at around 8am and then change terminals in Madrid (which is the biggest airport I have EVER seen - we took two different buses on got on a highway to get between terminals. It was ridiculous). We then spent 2 hours chilling in our gate and then flew to Barcelona. I also would have rather taken a train from Barcelona to Madrid, but again, apparently it was cheaper to fly at 6 in the morning...

But we certainly had a TON of time to explore the cities. If I had to do it again, I would have cut out Florence and spent an extra day in Barcelona. I also would have done it in May. It was freezing EVERYWHERE. Kind of a negative question to start out with Liza...

2. How many articles of clothing did you bring? Laundry? How big was your bag?
- 2 pairs of jeans
- 7 t-shirts
- 2 dresses
- 3 cardigans
- pajamas
- sneakers, boots, and flip-flops (for hostel showers. You never know...)
- a towel
- lots of socks and underwear

I didn't do any laundry. Everything was pretty grody by the end, especially since everywhere we went people smoked like chimneys, so all of my clothes smelled like I walked off the set of Mad Men. My bag was this pretty sweet suitcase that doubles as a backpack from L.L. Bean, so it was big enough to hold the things I needed, but small enough to fit on my back. This trip was an amazing view of the types of things people travel with. The most impressive was probably when we were walking to the train station in Venice, we saw this guy who had a backpack on that could have doubled as a body bag. When he had it on his back, it literally went about a foot over his head. It was quite the feat of physics that he could actually stand up straight.

3. You said it was busy and not exactly 'vacation'. Better? Worse? Explain.
Since I've grown up with the idea that "vacation" is waking up, going for a run, sitting on the beach, playing a little golf, having happy hour, eating dinner, and doing it all over again for a week, this definitely didn't fit into that definition. We woke up, packed our crossbody bags, put our walking shoes on, whipped out or our maps, and set out for epically long days of sightseeing and exploring. And when we didn't wake up and do that, we woke up and got on a bus or train that took us to the airport. I went through five security lines in a span of 8 days. I don't know how you do it, Dad.

But to answer your question, not better or worse, just different. I think the main difference was that instead of being recharged at the end, I was exhausted. Everyday I was on sensory overload - the sights were different, the smells were different, the food tasted different, even the sounds of the cities we visited all had their unique characteristics. It was tiring just trying to take it all in.

4. How much did you miss Liza?
Sooo much. No one in my group knew that I didn't function very well before I had my coffee. It would have been nice to have you there to explain it to them...

5. What are hostels like? Sketch? Awesome? Did you have to share a bathroom with people you don't know?
The hostels were all very different. The Rundown:
VENICE: A quaint hostel right by the Rialto Bridge. We had to go through three different doors and up four flights of stairs to get to it. However, they made us breakfast in the morning and it was very clean and quiet.
FLORENCE: A modern hotel. A well-appointed kitchen, clean rooms, blow-dryer in the bathroom. For 10 euro a night. It was a steal. We think it might have been a drug-dealer's front...
BARCELONA: What you think of when you think of a "hostel". The rooms were tiny tiny and had nothing but steel-framed bunk beds and lockers. However, there was a huge common area with a bar, computers, pool table, etc. When we were checking in "Brown-Eyed Girl" started playing and the bartender yelled, "the first person to sing along gets a free beer!" I sang. I got free beer. I was in love.
MADRID: This was probably the weirdest one. It certainly had the most comfortable beds, but it was definitely a converted doctor's office. It was on the 6th floor of a building that also had a lawyers office and a psychiatrist's office. But it was close to where our friend who showed us around lived, so no complaints.

6. Did you buy anything in Florence? Was it cheap?
I bought a scarf, but the best purchase might have been the change purse Conor got. It may sound unnecessary, but every time the boys sit down here, change falls out of their pockets, and unlike in the states, coins are pretty valuable here. He loves it. And all the money he doesn't lose in the couch anymore.

7. How many times a day did you think about Liza?
432842704958304958304913984713 times 385247502841893109347204857. 9 days, Liza!

8. Biggest difference between American cities and European cities?
I would say that even the big cities in Europe are far more walkable than any city in the States. In America, they just assume that you will be driving a car. Here, all of the maps are directed at pedestrians that may be using the underground rail system (if the city has it). Venice doesn't even have cars. Their taxis are boats. Ridiculous.

9. Does it really rain all the time in London?
Well, they always predict rain, so if it is raining you say, "Well, they said it would rain." But if it's nice outside, you're pleasantly surprised. The weather here is a total mind game.

10. Why can Frankenstein be described as a "hybrid fictional species"?
I don't think you want to read 1500 more words...

Well, that was ridiculously long, but it's done! Please either leave a comment with more questions or just e-mail them to me if you have them!

Birthday at the Waitrose

Alright I get it. I've been extremely neglectful of the blog lately. Not only have I truly been swamped by work since I've been back - philo paper, writing scenes for a play, thesis proposal, Brit Lit Paper - but it was probably the most eventful week of celebrations that the London Program has ever seen. In a span of seven days, there were six birthdays, starting with Conor Bruen's and ending with my own, but also St. Patrick's Day. Needless to say, I've been treating my body more like a tent than a temple, and last night my body retaliated. It started with the heavy head, sore throat, and really gross cough that starts way down in your chest. It culminated in me wearing all of my sweats to bed, still freezing cold, and resigning myself to the fact that I had a fever. So I slept til 10am and then went back to sleep at 1pm, woke up at 3:30, and then forced myself to rally so that I could go see the play required for my Intro to London Theater class, which was painfully bad.

But no more excuses. I'm back and ready to blog, but it's not going to be about spring break. At least not yet. I've asked for some collaboration on my spring break post from one of my possibly not so loyal followers - my sister Liza - because just the thought of blogging about that week is horribly daunting to me, so I thought that if she asked me questions (or if anyone asked me questions!!! hint hint)I would be able to tell y'all what you want to know, instead of me go through the rundown of each day like a 7th grader writing in her diary...

This post is going to be about two of my favorite things - my 21st birthday and my favorite grocery store ever, Waitrose. My birthday was simply one of the most fun nights I've ever had. It started on Saturday the 20th (I decided to celebrate into my real birthday) with a fun meal with my London crew at a pub down the street. We then had a gathering at the flats until we went out to a pub/club that had a DJ that played anything I wanted him to. I just danced the whole night to my favorite guilty pleasure pop songs, and then went home and woke up on birthday feeling wonderful. I went for a long run to kick off my 22nd year and then Conor and Patrick and I decided to make a nice birthday dinner (since all establishments are closed on Sundays for some reason here. Sundays are the days I miss America most...). In order to make said birthday dinner, there was only one place we needed to go - Waitrose.

Waitrose is the epitome of what a grocery store should be. You walk in and everything just looks pristine. The food is beautiful, the store is clean and organized, that have a big cheese bar (which won Patrick over) and if you can't find something they'll find it for you. Not only that, but their Waitrose brand things are AWESOME (with a really cool font and design) and it's not even more expensive than the run of the mill Tesco and Sainsbury grocery stores. It's also closer than those grocery stores to our flats. Not only that, but they sell toilet paper that is made with cashmere threads. Seriously. I bought some. It's awesome.

So the boys and I set out to buy groceries, but with it being beautiful outside and my birthday, we decided to stop for a pint on the way and sit out at one of the picnic tables. Once we made it to the Waitrose, we found all of the things to make chicken tikka masala from scratch, brought it home, and started cooking. For the production that it could have been, the team effort put forth by the three of us made the chicken tikka adventure fairly painless (the G&T's probably helped that too). We made a delicious meal, and then went over to - where else - Exmouth Arms for a night cap.

So now I'm old and sick, which makes me feel like I should have decided to stay 20, or at least not have run my body into the ground for the past two weeks, but hey, you do what you've got to do. Stay tuned for the spring break interview, and if you have questions, please pass them along! I'm begging for a little push.

I'm not dead, but back in reality

I wish I had time to sit down and detail my past week via blog post right now, but unfortunately I have returned to the UK with two massive papers hanging over my head, a ton of laundry, and absolutely no academic drive. I will however give you a little teaser with my photos, which will hopefully hold you over until I can write (which will most likely be Saturday).

In order to supplement the photos, here's the Cliffs Notes version of my week:
1) Venice - my best friend from, well, life, is studying there and coincidentally she is new besties with Ryanne, a girl who is besties with Conor, my bestie from London. Confusing? Yes. Awesome? Hell yes. The best word to describe this city and how small this world is? Surreal.

2) Florence - Bags, boots, jackets, wallets EVERYWHERE. The Duomo was breathtaking. Seriously. We had to climb up 463 steps and then we saw the view.

3) Barcelona - Snowing with the sun out? I guess only in Barcelona (and South Bend - their only similarity). This city is so rich. Out of all of the places we went, this is where I want to go back most.

4) Madrid - If I was offered a job in Europe and had to choose between Madrid and London, I'd have a hard time choosing. Not a tourist city, but since we had a study abroad native there to show us around, we saw a phenomenal city.

Alright, now it's time to write 1500 words on why Frankenstein can be described as a "hybrid fictional species"...

Spring Break, Here I Come!

After an amazing two evenings hanging out with the one and only Lee Manfred, I am headed out of London for a European excursion. Yep, I'm headed to Venice, Florence, Barcelona, and Madrid. That being said, I most likely will not have the ability or time to blog this coming week, but that also means that when I get back I should have some pretty bitchin' stories to share with my readers. We'll catch up in a week!

Knitting With Dolly

Another thing most of you already know about me: I love knitting. I learned how to knit when I was young and since my Grandmother, Mom, and sister all knit as well, they are good motivation for sticking with whatever project I have going on (Especially when it is a marathon of a blanket...)

One of the classes I'm in is called "Theater and Social Concerns" and it is taught by a, shall we say, very eccentric professor who I had sophomore year, but is a visiting professor for the Spring 2010 session. Basically, we are studying the immigrant culture of London by going into communities largely composed of immigrants, interacting with the people and learning their stories, and then writing a play and performing it - all in one semester. Interesting? Yes. Implausible? Hell Yes. How are 5 students who are having totally independent experiences, supposed to get involved with the community enough for them to open up about their lives, write individual scenes, then compose a play together, and then put on a production, in 8 weeks? Being the straightforward and at most times rational person that I am, I told my professor this and he said, "Have some confidence, Katherine." And I thought, "Pull your head out of you ass, Professor."

Yesterday, after two attempts to get this show on the road, I was finally able to go to the parish that I will be working with for the rest of the semester. It is an Anglican Church out in East London with a large Indian and African population. I went out early in the morning and attended church with them, and then was able to chat with some of the people at their reception afterward. It was mostly small talk, but I realized that they have a KNITTING GROUP that meets on Monday afternoons! So I asked if I could attend and they said, talk to Dolly.

Dolly is an 85 year old woman who is a born and raised Londoner. She wears a bright yellow coat (just like me) and pushes this cart around everywhere she goes. When I asked her if I could come to knitting She said in her Cockney accent, "You knit? Well 'ow 'bout that! We meet at 2 o'clock. Just come right in an' yell, Dolllyyy!"

So I made the trek back out today and my spirits were high because not only was it a beautiful day and I was going to knit for once, but I got to miss the class for which I am doing it for. Count it! I walked into the church and wandered through, following the voices until I found a small room with five women sitting around, chatting and knitting. "Yesss" I thought to myself. Granted, I brought the average age of the room down to about 60, but I was more than happy to whip out the square I was working on and knit right along with them. Dolly actually arrived after me, but she pulled up a chair right next to me and showed me this adorable baby cardigan she was just finishing that had all of these little loops on it. She showed me how to do it and then asked what I was working on. I explained, "I'm making a blanket, but I'm making it out of 20 different squares. It's like a sampler." She said, "We're making a blanket! Out of all these squares!" She pulled out these 4x4 squares and said, "you should make some!" So that's what I worked on.

I brought my unfinished square back with me so I can go back in a couple weeks with it all finished. It felt so nice to be welcomed, and I also didn't feel like I was "that American girl". When I was leaving I said to Dolly, "Thanks Dolly. I'll see you in a couple weeks!" And she replied, "What a fortnight? Alrighty then, we'll see you." So not only is she a knitter, but she uses a "fortnight" as an increment of days. Talk about kindred spirits...

Praha. Oh Man.

Please forgive me for the amount of time in between posts recently. If it wasn't clear, it has been quite a whirlwind of the past two weeks, and I'm finally just getting around to getting my feet back under me. I realized that I had promised a post by last night, but a cold that I have been fighting off with alcohol and adrenaline finally caught up with me, and I hit the hay pretty early.

Let's get right into it. Prague. I haven't been to many, but it might just be the best city ever. Easy, efficient public transportation, beautiful architecture, AMAZING food, delicious beer (and wine for that matter), cute shops with great clothes and shoes, a fun nightlife, friendly people, and completely walkable. I traveled with my friends Lauren and Mo, and as soon as we arrived in Old Town Square after a quick bus ride and a few stops on the metro, I knew that I was going to love Prague. Here are the highlights:

1) Our bartender friend and Lucerna: The first night we were walking around after dinner looking for a place to just sit and have a relaxing evening, but we weren't exactly sure about the pub/ bar culture. There were definitely drinking establishments, but they all seemed like small, personal gatherings. As we were walking, I saw this empty hotel bar with this bartender all alone and I said, "Why don't we go in there and chat up the bartender?" My friends agreed, so we just sat down and started talking to him. We don't know his name, but we definitely learned a lot about him, and had the BEST NIGHT EVER because of him. He asked us what we were doing later on, and I just said, "we have no plans. Do you have any recommendations?" And then he said, "well, there's this place right up the road called Lucerna. It's an 80s and 90s dance club. It's very fun." Mo then looked at me with a twinkle in her eye and said, "I love 80s music!"

So we head over there and we walk in to the sound of "Be My Lover" by La Bouche. We just danced the whole time because we knew every song. There was certainly more 90s music than 80s, but some of the highlights include "We Like to Party"(of Six Flags marketing fame), "Summer Nights"(Grease) , "Time of My Life" (Dirty Dancing), "Mamma Mia", "I'm Too Sexy"(Right Said Fred), and "What is Love?". After we had been there for about three and a half hours I said to the girls, "Next song we don't know we're leaving." A half and hour later, we pulled ourselves away from the awesomeness.

2) Mulled Wine, Beer, and Czech Sauvignon Blanc: AS we were walking up the hill to see the castle and St. Vitus (two big landmarks across the river) there was a man with a cart and a percolator of mulled wine every 100 feet. I couldn't help but think, "If Notre Dame had mulled wine carts scattered around campus, it would be a much happier December through February". There is also very delicious beer ( or pivo as the Czech say) all over the place. My personal favorite was the beer they had at U Fleku, which was a dark brew, but tasted like the cross between a Guinness and a Duvel. At the risk of sounding like I have a problem, the girls and I split a bottle of Czech Sauvignon Blanc at 7 Angels, the restaurant my parents recommended to us, and it was some of the best wine I've tasted (but again, in the grand scheme of things, haven't tasted much wine).

3) The Architecture and the history: Prague is amazing because it has survived all of the political unrest that has surrounded it throughout the ages. There is a stunning church on every corner, and there are establishments that have been in service sine the 13th century. As I previously mentioned, we crossed the Charles Bridge to get to St. Vitus and the Castle on Saturday, and then we went to the Jewish Quarter on Sunday. The Jewish quarter is fascinating because Hitler collected all sorts of Jewish artifacts and sent them to Prague to make a museum of stupidity, but when Prague did not get bombed, all of the things were saved. The Jewish museum was shocking because it is a synagogue with all of the names of the Jewish victims of World War II painted on the walls. Picture the names on the Vietnam Memorial painted on the walls, but with more wall space in a smaller font. We also saw the Jewish cemetery, which - without trying to sound dramatic - almost made me cry. There are 12,00 tombstones piled together in this tiny cemetery and it is thought that in some places the cemetery is at least twelve people deep. Heart-wrenching.

4) Old Town Square: I would have spent five days in Prague just so I could eat everything in Old Town Square. We decided to make our last meal an Old Town Square meal, so we got sausages and crepes. There were also all sorts of pastries and kebabs and I just wanted to stay there forever. It was so delicious and there was always an accordion player, who simply completed the ambiance.

All in all, my trip to Prague just gave me this burning itch to travel. The feeling of seeing new places and eating new foods and meeting new people is indescribable, and I'm dying to do it again.

But for now, my goal is to get back in touch with London. My mom asked me when I got back on Sunday, "Do you still feel like you're on extended vacation or do you feel like London is home?" and I had to answer the latter. It almost feels so much like home that I realized that I was starting to take it for granted. However, I went back to the Tate Modern yesterday and I went for a run through the parks today, and I'm planning on hitting the Imperial War museum this weekend as well as another market, so hopefully London will forgive me.

Life Is Too Short to Drink Bad Wine

I'm back! I don't think I've gotten so many requests to write another post before, but it makes me glad that people want to keep reading. Count it! Sorry that the "Bitch Blog" has sat there on my page for a while now, but I'm happy to say that while yes, these things still bug me, I just returned from a lovely weekend in PARIS that will definitely prove to be more positive material than what I was working with last week.

PARIS - I stayed in an absurdly luxurious hotel, thanks to the generosity of one of my travel companions, drank delicious champagne and red wine, and ate decadent food. I could see the Eiffel Tower out of my bedroom window, and when I walked out of our hotel and looked right, I was staring straight at the Arc d'Triomphe. Since both girls I was traveling with had been to Paris previously (and not in below-freezing temperatures) I split off to do some more touristy things while they took advantage of the Marais district, which is full of funky boutiques (I eventually met up with them - I can never totally pass up shopping). I hit the Louvre, the Tuileries, the Musee d'Orsay, and Notre Dame on Saturday, and then the Eiffel Tower, the Sacre Coeur, and the Montmarte district Sunday.

While the sights were stunning, I completely underestimated the swarms of people that would be in Paris on VALENTINE'S DAY weekend. And not just people. Face-sucking couples. I would be lying if I said that my weekend couldn't have been better, since it would have been nice to have my shugah there with me, but I powered through. The worst might have been Sunday morning walking down the steps of the Sacre Coeur with a man playing a harp and all of these couple sitting and listening to him. The swarms of couples also made it impossible for me to get into the Musee d'Orsay (I tried twice), but that just means I'll have to go back, which is totally fine by me (preferably in the summer).

I would say that my most positive experiences in Paris were my interactions with the locals. I don't have many means of comparison, but the French guys seem to have found a good balance of being friendly and outgoing, but not creepy. The first night we stopped into a hole-in-the-wall bar around the corner from the restaurant we ate in, and when we went to order drink, the bartender was American! He'd lived in Paris for about 12 years, but he's from Cleveland originally. We turned around and then this guy (Julian) leans in and say to me, "Excuse me, my friend Stephen is trying to practice English. Will you speak with him?" We all start chatting and the interaction is very normal and not creepy at all. Then at one point, Julian says something-something "Barney Stinson". I whip around and say, "You know who Barney Stinson is?" And He says in this awkward French accent, "Haaave you met Ted?" It was hilarious. Talk about How I Met Your Mother bringing people together. The following night we were at The Social Club - the cross between a rave and a normal bar - and we were almost immediately approached by our new friend Gaber who bought us B-52s (flaming shots) and then invited us to his table for drinks. We chatted with all of his friends and just had a really fun night. When we left the club, these two guys who were outside for a smoke helped us get a cab for 45 minutes. I don't remember their names, but they were also just genuinely nice. Re-reading it,this paragraph sounds somewhat naive, but I think my instinct are pretty good about that kind of thing, and nothing bad happened. New friends that I'll never see again. I call that a win.

I guess I have deviated a little from my "New Things", but I am returning with a little installment called "Monday the 15th of February 2010, the Best Night Ever".
First, I got to see Anne Marie! (She's visiting London this week before she heads to Venice for her study abroad program) So we go out and get a drink and catch up at The Dovetail, and then head over to one of my favorite place ever, the Exmouth Arms. It's a small pub with a really friendly regular staff, and they do student discounts on Monday nights. Clutch. Kevin, my bartender friend, is working, and he and I have a common passion for Guinness. Whenever I go there, I always order a Guinness, and he says, "I love a woman who loves her Guinness". As the night went on, I was standing at the bar and I said to him, "Hey Kev, do think that before I leave in May you would teach me how to pour a Guinness?" He says, "Give me five minutes." Five minutes later, Kevin pulls me back behind the bar, and he teaches me how to pour a Guinness! Not only did I pour a Guinness, I basically helped him tend bar the rest of the night, and as a nightcap, Kev gives me a free Guinness. Not too shabby! I'll keep you posted on if they actually decide to hire me, because I think they were legitimately considering it...

Those have been my past few days. I'm headed to Prague on Friday, and have some (gasp!) homework to do for Monday and Tuesday, but hopefully I'll have another post for you on Tuesday! Also, I appreciate the nagging about posting. It keeps me in line. And you informed.

There are Bad Days...

...even in London. It could be that the initial magic of feeling like I was on an extended vacation is beginning to wear off, or it could be that I've had a ten page philosophy paper hanging over my head, but the past couple days have just been bad. I think it started off with my Saturday, which I dedicated to applying for summer internships. Talk about a buzzkill. I'd actually be totally stoked if I got any of them, but nothing makes me feel more like I'm becoming a real person than thinking about employment and the future. And becoming a real person is not something that I want to be doing anytime soon, despite its inevitability.

Sunday was the quintessential "Think about (fill in gerund form of task that you have to do, have been putting off, but don't necessarily NEED to start)" day that all procrastinators are familiar with. I spent the majority of the day telling people that I had to write ten pages of philosophy and thinking about writing ten pages of philosophy but not actually sitting down and writing ten pages of philosophy. However, I ran up into a new part of town and did a little exploring, and I also had a traditional English lunch which was delicious.

Just to switch up the structure a little, my Monday and Tuesday can be summarized by a list: Things That Bug Me. I'll try and keep it to the things that bugged me yesterday and today, but no promises.

Things That Bug Me
1) Professors that think your world revolves around their class.
My philosophy prof. started class by saying that he was going to be half an hour late to class on Wednesday because he had to go to a meeting, but then proceeded to tell us that are already horribly painful 75 minute class was going to be extended that day to make up for it. The whole time I'm thinking, "Are you out of your mind?! Well, obviously because you have devoted your life to talking in circles and not coming to any real conclusions about anything, but seriously? I have things to do! Like eat. And write the paper you assigned!"
2) Performances that are longer than 2 hours.
As someone who has been to and been involved in many performances, I have developed a rule: any performance, of any kind, that is longer than two hours, should not be. Edit the play. Cut the dance sequence. Don't play the encore. Two hours is a long time to sit in one seat, even if you are riveted by what's happening on stage, and it's an eternity when you are hungry and the string orchestra has sounded the same for the past 26 minute piece. (I went to the Britten Sinfonia for my contemporary music class and the last piece was 26 minutes long. And that started after the 2 hour mark). I would have rather been writing my philo paper. Seriously.
3) People who don't walk with purpose.
It's fine to amble along if you're in a park, on the beach, or being filmed by a camera crew and they've blocked off the sidewalk. But when walking is your commute, you need to walk with intention and purpose. Know your surroundings, walk quickly, and get where you're going. If I catch up with you and I know you, I will say hi, but if you are not walking at my pace, I will not walk with you. If I do not know you and you are walking too slowly, you are in my way.
4) People who talk too loudly on public transportation.
Especially if they are talking to me. I'm not a quiet girl, but when I get on a bus or a train in London, I shut up. I hate it when I'm commuting and the person I'm with can't stop yelling about how they've never been abroad and where they are traveling and basically telling everyone, "I'M AMERICAN! I'M AMERICAN! CALL ME OBNOXIOUS AND SPOILED AFTER YOU'VE STOLEN MY WALLET OUT OF MY NORTHFACE BACKPACK! PLEASE!"

These are some of the things that bug me. Well, that have bugged me the past two days. I feel better now. Thanks.

The Coffee in London

For those of you reading this, I assume you know that I have a thing for coffee. And it's not a grade-school, puppy-love kind of thing, it's is full blown passionate love for something that I know will never be able to love me back. But I'm okay with that, as long as I still have access to it. While I was on campus, there was a Starbucks literally a minute away on foot. I could roll out of bed in the morning, swipe my student ID, and have my stainless steel travelers mug (I do my part to be green) full of that hot black and strong goodness.

Now all of that has changed. The Starbucks establishments in London don't accept my student ID as a legitimate form of payment, so now I have to factor my daily fix into the already tight budget that I'm working with. However, this has not prompted me to call it quits with my love. I am fortunate enough to have very considerate family members, so I arrived in London with about $45 in Starbucks gift cards, which have definitely made this transition period easier. But unfortunately, Starbucks are not nearly as ubiquitous here as they are in the states. They actually have (gasp!) competition, and being the self-proclaimed coffee connoisseur that I am, I decided to give them all a try.

Pret a Manger: A good cup of coffee, but nothing to call home about. Not particularly strong and it took forever for them to make it. TANGENT: Except for Starbucks, all of these establishments make coffee by the cup. So technically, none of it is truly brewed coffee. Everything (well, the only thing I order) is essentially an Americano - hot water and espresso.

Cafe Nero: A delicious cup of coffee. Full bodied, multiple layers of flavor, an all-around wonderful coffee experience. HOWEVER, apparently everyone in London knows about this because whenever I go in it is PACKED and it ends up being a fifteen minute transaction. No thanks. Also, their "regular" size, or medium, is actually 12 oz., which is the same as a tall at Starbucks, and costs 20p more. Like I said, secret's out.

Cafe Canova: This place is my favorite for many reasons. 1) There is never a line in this hole-in-the-wall cafe just around the corner from the London Center. My slowest mornings in there are when I don't give exact change. 2)Speaking of exact change, the coffee is only ONE POUND. It makes me happy every time I give the girl who works there that one little coin. And I know, one pound here is like $1.60 at home, which is still as expensive as Starbucks coffee, but let me revel in this little bit of glory. 3) The coffee is good. Bold flavor, but not too strong, and it's always the right temperature when I go to drink it. I know the establishment probably has nothing to do with that, but still, it's a perk.

Needless to say, Starbucks will never lose me as a loyal customer, but it's always good to have alternatives, especially once those gift cards start running out.

"Well, It's no North Quad..."

...was the general consensus while 100 ND juniors strolled around the path surrounding Stonehenge. The real one. The stones weren't as pretty, there was no fountain, and it was freezing cold. Well, that last part is true of ND's Stonehenge as well for most of the school year, but still.

Stonehenge was the initial stop on our day trip yesterday, which was organized by the ND London Program for one of the classes, but is then offered to those who aren't in the class. I am not in the class (Archaeology and Ethics), but thought it would be a fun trip and I could see some pretty historic things along the way. We went to Bath from Stonehenge, which was a very cute, very English town, which is also home to the Roman Baths. We had a little time to stroll around and explore and see some of the famous Georgian architecture, and then we had a tour of the baths, which are pretty impressive, especially when you consider how long they've been around (since 75 AD).

As well as having a day trip, yesterday was coincidentally two of my eight roommates birthday. When we got home, three of the girls who had not gone on the trip had a delicious meal prepared for us, including homemade mulled wine. We then successfully inundated another club with the majority of the program, and danced to some horrible British techno. I'm really jonesing for a night when I can hear Africa, Let Her Cry, and Cooking by the Book in succession. I guess that'll just have to wait for Corby Row...

Last week I did a pretty good job with food. I only ate out twice, once was for the famous kebab place in Leicester Square and once for my really hot date with Chronert at the Wagamama, thanks to Maggie. Sparks flew. 'nuff said. The other nights I made food, like Rachael Ray's Lime and Honey Glazed Salmon with Warm Corn Salad, and chicken sauteed with peppers and onions. Liza might not be the foodie in the family after all. Well, that's just not true, but while she's not here to show me up I can believe it a little bit.

On the horizon: More workouts with Jillian! Petticoat Lane Market! Better blog posts than this one! More exclamation points!

Swindles and Deals

Claiming to be from a pretty big city, from my experience, I expect pretty straightforward business transactions. However, over the past two weeks I have found that this is not the case.

In order to use our phones, we have to "top up" which is basically putting money on our account, and then calls and texts deduct from the account. Well, the second day of my semester in London, I stopped into the convenience store on the corner, and asked to get topped up. Well the guy gives me the voucher, and explains to me that I just have to dial the 16-digit number on the receipt and it will put the money on my account. I take it home and try it, and it says that the code is "invalid". Well, the next day the store was closed, and then the next day I went in and told him that the code was invalid. He then automatically says, "Well that is becuase you have an O2 voucher and your service is T-mobile". Well, my first response is, "can you exchange it?" and he says, "No. If you had come in the same day that would be fine but now I cannot do anything. you can leave it with me and I will sell it for you." I obviously I looking like I am very suspicious of this whole transaction and he says, "what, you don't trust me?" and I, being my tell-it-like-it-is self says without hesitation, "well, not really."

So I walk away and try to deal with the situation on my own, contacting the company directly, etc. But everything is a dead end. So I sheepishly go back to the convenience store and leave my very expensive piece of paper with this guy (who is there ALL the time, quite literally) and told him I would stop in every day in order to collect my money.

The following day was the day I went to Cambridge, so I didn't go to the store, and the next day was Sunday, and the store was closed. So first thing Monday, I stop in the store and he immediately recognizes me and says, "I sold it, I don't get why you don't trust me." I am profusely thankful until he hands me a ten pound note out of the cash register, and I say, "My voucher was twenty pounds." He says adamantly, "No it was a ten pound voucher."

Now I had been carrying this piece of paper with me for a week, so I know how much it was worth. But in order to never see this horrible man's face ever again I just said to him, "It was a twenty pound voucher. You are a thief and a liar," and I walked out.

The next day, I had to go to the dry cleaner because I had stained my new beautiful yellow coat. Total fail. I go to the dry cleaner on the corner and explain the stain and the guys says, "I will probably have to do two cleans, which is normally 16 pounds, but I will do it for you for 11." Coming off of my recent scam, I was leery, but I thought it was I nice gesture. I still haven't picked up my coat yet, but I have a feeling that this guy just thought that I was cute.

Tonight, I went to the grocery store to pick up some staples (aka beer) for our floor dinner, and I realized after I had checked out that the guy had charged me for an extra pack. If I hadn't looked at the receipt closely , I would have never know this, so I went to the customer service desk and got refunded.

I guess it's experiences like these that make me wish that I wasn't a young American woman. But that category has its benefits as well.

Week 1 Recap

My lack of posting this week has not been for lack of wanting to write the post, but merely for lack of time to write said post. This first "real" week has been overwhelmingly hectic, but still one of the best weeks I've ever had. I'll try to keep it snappy...

Let's talk about "New Things" -
Monday: Drink like a local. These four words came as advice from the directors of our program during orientation. It basically means that instead of beginning to drink prior to going out, drinking more more while "out", and then drinking whatever alcoholic beverages are left in the vicinity, you go to the pub for happy hour, have a leisurely, few drinks with a few friends, and then head home. Well, that's what I did. It was a Monday night, but hey there were plenty of locals there too.

Tuesday: Pub Dinner and West End show. A burger and chips (fries) and a Guinness for 8 pounds and then The Little Dog Laughed at the Garrick Theatre. The show was very entertaining and I went in to it totally unaware of what it was about, which was somewhat refreshing. A lovely introduction to London theatre. And pretty funny hearing Brits attempt American accents.

Wednesday: Run through St. James Park, the Green Park, including a loop through the circle at Buckingham palace. This was such a surreal experience that it's kind of hard to conjure up the right words for it. It was a truly London day - overcast skies with sprinkling off and on rain. I started the run not really knowing where I was going, and ended up seeing the majority of quintessential London landmarks. There were also so many runners in the parks that for the first time I didn't feel like I stuck out like a sore American thumb. It was probably the happiest I've been since arriving in London, and listening to Bad Romance while running past the guards and Big Ben made it all the better.

Thursday: Curry Club night at Sir John Oldcastle. We had to watch The Queen with the entire programs and afterward we were starving so we hit up this pub right near the flats. The Thursday special was a Curry Club - chicken curry with naan and rice and a beer - 6 pounds. Not too shabby...

Friday: Borough Market, Tate Modern. Check out the pictures for most of this. Borough Market is this amazing specialty food market on the south bank, right near the Globe Theatre. After tasting all sorts of fun, ethnic food, we wandered to the Tate Modern and I got to see some Jackson Pollock, Joan Mitchell, Lee Krasner, and Andy Warhol works up close after studying them for an entire semester.

Saturday: Cambridge. The oldest college town in the world, essentially. Pubs, bookstores, cafes, scenic lawns, impressive chapels, and cobblestones define this quaint area where it is totally normal to see students walking along in their dinner robes. Yes, some of the colleges require their students to wear collegiate robes to dinner every night! It's definitely a sight.

I'm dedicating tomorrow to resting, finding a curling iron, applying for my internships, and doing some homework, in that order. Goals for the coming week: Run, Run, Run. And cook a new recipe.