Beautiful Sights and Loud Americans

Okay so I'm having trouble with uploading pictures on to this thing so I'm just going to have to explain most of it with few visuals, sorry!

Yesterday we went to Blenheim Palace and Oxford. Both very beautiful places - I have yet to see anything like it in the states. Granted, we're a much younger country than England. Blenheim Palace was where Winston Churchill was born, was where he lived, and is now the home of the Duke. We saw the room in which Madam Churchill birthed the prime minister to be and all I could think was... it must have sucked not having any labor drugs. Probably really messy too. Did you know that many women poop while giving birth? I can only imagine how hard it was to clean those fabulous bed sheets later. Did they have some kind of detergent back then? Whateva.

After the palace we went to Oxford. Very scenic, lots to do, lots of history. Authors like J.R. Tolkien and the dude that wrote The Golden Compass frequented a bar called Eagle and Child (England has the weirdest freaking bar names ever) which is one of the first things we saw upon entry.

My friend Trish studied here when she was in high school. She said it changed her life, so I'm assuming that all the huff and puff about it is pretty accurate. Oxford, according to our tour guide Linda, is extremely competitive and extremely hard to get into. They offered me a full ride when they saw how hipster I was with my black sweater and camera but I declined.

Trish also told us that Oxford is where HARRY POTTER WAS SHOT... sooooooooooo BASICALLY IN A NUTSHELL THESE LUCKY BASTARDS GO TO HOGWARTS... omg, I wanted to find a touristy thing where you could make your wand SO BAD but they didn't have that. I didn't ask because I'm pretty sure I've been pushing my luck with the obnoxious American thing.

However, that didn't stop all eight of us from barreling into a gift shop and getting the same sweatshirt, screaming LET'S TAKE A PICTURE WITH ALL OF US IN OUR SWEATSHIRTS HAAAHAHAHAHA OMG OXFORD YAAAAAAYYYYY! ... If you haven't guessed it, most of us haven't met any british people yet. I think they can smell us coming and just scatter.

Anywho, after we got our sweatshirts we got ice cream (it had been more than twenty minutes since we last ate). England has a very diverse population (I'm pretty sure, don't quote me on that but it SEEMS like there are 278402 different accents around every corner) so we don't have to rely on just fish and chips and calf liver for food (apparently they do calf liver here, that you CAN quote me on). But yeah, so I got a flavor called B52 which is described as bailey's and kalua. I was SO EXCITED (it had also been more than seven hours since we last drank so I stopped the scooper practically wrestling with the raspberry to scoop out my booze cream. It ended up tasting like a canoli so I barfed. Why do people like those things?

Then we wanted actual booze so we went to the oldest pub in Oxford called Turf Tavern. Very charming, and England-y :D. There my friends got the cheapest ale and it tasted like death and urine, so I didn't get it. Instead I got my FIRST EVER GUINNESS. It's a big deal. I had no idea however, that it would be like eating a loaf of bread without chewing, so the moral of that story is to never drink Guinness unless you either A) can handle it or B) are curious to know what being pregnant feels like.

I thought the end of our annoying American tour of Oxford had ended at the gift shop where we all lost our shit over sweatshirts but I was wrong... we found a giant empty table RIGHT NEXT to the bar that easily fit us all. Those poor Brits had no choice but to tolerate us until they got their drinks.

It wasn't bad at first, but then I told everyone how my teeth are close together so when I smile, you can see back to my molars... my friend Quincy responded loudly from across the table "You must have been an orthodontist's wet dream." ...

Everyone we were sitting with: HAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHA

HAHAHHJAJFGJRAJJDFKSAHKFDSJAHAHAHAHA

The British people in the bar: ...

After one gaze from a disgruntled English woman that nearly disintegrated my soul, I raised my hands slightly so as to signal "Shut the fuck up."

We calmed, and for a whole ten minutes we didn't get one death stare. But then another friend of mine announced that she wanted a shot of tequila in honor of being at the oldest pub in Oxford (it was four in the afternoon), and I panicked a little. I told her no, bad idea, red alert, code red, black and blue but she wouldn't listen. Then Gauri tried to talk some sense in to her - I was relieved that another voice of reason joined in. However, my friend, determined to obtain hard liquor, said to Gauri, in something a little less than a shout, "I'm going to punch you in the balls."

Us: "..."

British: "..."

At this point I was sure the second revolutionary war was about to erupt. There were way too many raised eyebrows for them to not want us all dead or at least banished from Europe. Thankfully we got the hint and bolted after slamming down the rest of our drinks and high tailed it out of there. Guinness doesn't combine well with "slamming down" what with it being a meal in itself, and moving briskly out of arm's reach from the locals wasn't helping. Did I mention I already ate three times before this? I can't imagine what it feels like to almost give birth but I think I came as close as you can get without having a uterus.

Don't get me wrong, I love the guinness, I just executed my consumption poorly. The moral of this story is don't drink guinness if you're with a lot of Americans, talking about orthodontic perversions, or ball punching. I hope you all take this very important lesson to heart, and I'll be back with more wisdom soon.

Love ya.

P.S. here's a picture of the alley way you have to go down to get to the pub. I think they hid it on purpose.

Interesting Past Two Days

I said I would come back with more interesting stuff to tell you and I have delivered. Or will. Later in this post. :D

Trish and I went to "Tent City" (or so we've coined it) on Friday. Tent City is a rag tag tent camp set up in front of Parliament as a giant peaceful protest. I didn't talk to many people but I took a lot of pictures. We couldn't tell if these people were posers, or legitimately acting on behalf of their own beliefs. We probably could have found out if these folks were worth listening to if we actually talked to them but alas, I didn't feel brave enough yet. Eventually Trish and I finished our tour of the city and came upon a very interesting individual. Though we couldn't tell whether the protesters were serious about their business, this man certainly had his own opinion.

His name is Brian

Haw. He's an activist and according to him, he's on a peace campaign, not a peace protest. "Get the words right," were his words if I remember correctly. Haw has been camped out in front of Parliament for the past nine years, donned in white t-shirts covered in anti-war messages. This past week, he and one of his fellow "campaigners" were arrested for causing a ruckus when the Queen came to give a speech concerning England's government reformation. Trish and I were not expecting to see him there when we went there but somehow he got out of jail and is back at his post.

We were hesitant to approach him at first, but then we gathered our courage and walked up to him and two of his friends (who have been camping with him for some time - not sure how long, sorry). After he was done conversing with them he beckoned us over to talk. This was when I learned he was on a "peace campaign" and not a "peaceful protest" (... when I figure out the difference I'll let you know - don't hold your breath), and also when I learned he greatly resents the protesters behind him.

"They're all actors, fuckin' dressing up as hippies, drinking the drink and doing drugs," Haw said. Haw said the other protesters have tried to engage him in attempts to create a sense of unity, but he isn't having any of it. "They should fuck off home," he said. Later Haw spoke of a future in which thousands of people might get arrested for doing what he did to get him thrown in the slammer last week.

I guess the difference between a peaceful protest and peace campaign is this. Peaceful protesters will hold their signs, camp out in front of Parliament and have their beliefs be spoken through their presence and picket sign. Peace campaigners do just that but without the silence. Or so it would seem, seeing how Haw yelled his beliefs through the window of the Queen's carriage when she arrived at Parliament.

Haw is extremely leftist if you haven't gathered. One of his t-shirts even criticizes Obama, a president many liberals adore. As far as Haw is concerned, anyone involved in the continuation of the war is "evil." This concerned Trish and me. Obama may have his flaws, but to call someone evil seemed a bit overkill.

"Why are we over there? They never bombed us," Haw said. I was unsure of whether he was talking about England or the US, a question I should have asked, damn. Regardless, the first thought I had was a picture of the World Trade Center collapsing with innocent people inside. Even if England wasn't attacked by the Taliban or Al Quaeda, I'm fairly certain England and the U.S. have a relationship that entails protecting one another. When one is under fire, the other is likely to join the fight. We helped each other in WWII, so it's understandable that the English and American Armed Forces would be involved in the same conflict.

What are the consequences for quickly pulling out of a war that has been raging for years? Why are we fighting in the first place? Is fighting always immoral? When a mother's child is in danger from an attacker, would it be unreasonable to say she would protect her kin with her fists if she had to? Certainly not. I know the analogy probably doesn't spread to the war in Iraq, but the mindset of the British and American leaders might be likened to it. All I'm saying is there are two sides to everything, and extremism is a bold, precarious beam to balance on.

Haw said no member of parliament has tried speaking with him in the nine years he's been camped out across the street. I can only imagine why.

When a person resorts to extreme actions, such as making the front yard of Parliament his unofficial residence for nearly a decade and heckle the Queen of England from a tent, he makes it clear he is convinced the other side is wrong and that well, he might be crazy. That kind of reckless conviction is not what people running a country want to deal with. The people who are willing to talk and are worth talking to are those that understand that nothing is one-sided.

From what it seemed, Haw isn't interested in talking. But then again, I haven't been interviewing him for nine years. I could be totally wrong; he may have tried talking to the other protesters which he greatly resents, and he may have been patient some time ago. But now I don't see a man willing to include. I see someone who is self-righteous and for lack of a better word, nuts.

First Two Days of Class

Today was the second day of classes. It feels like the second week because they're four hours long lol. We've all actually only been to one class so far (elective is mon, tues, and core class is wed, thurs). My elective is The Foreign Correspondent, bum bum BAAAAAHHHHHHH! It's very interesting. So far we've talked most about war correspondence, not very pleasant.

Our professor has shown us two videos: one on war photojournalism and another on war reporting; probably two of the most depressing films I've ever seen. There are some seriously evil things that have gone on in the world I never even knew about. Apparently there was a civil war in Bosnia circa 1995. What?

In two days I've realized even more how important journalism is. Journalists aren't liked because they ask questions and expose the truth, and the truth for Eastern Europe during this time was was running home from the grocery store before getting shot in the streets.

Crazy. It's necessary to report and document these kinds of things because people deny that ethnic cleansing occurs. When someone says "Oh, that never happened," we can say "Yes it did I just told you about it, here's a picture, direct quote, and video clip." Journalism is the closest thing to a middle finger to any idiot denying the Holocaust, Rwanda Genocide or any other example of incredible human cruelty.

Anyway, before I get too serious, I'll complain about something else.

Money! Holy Christ on a cracker I've never seen money disappear so fast in my life. I know I've said that before but it's not something that loses its impact on my soul every time it happens. I took fifty pounds out this morning and now have 10 left. And what do I have to show for it? Some cheap-ass baklava and six bananas. (Baklava.... does not taste better because it's in Europe. Noted) and I have yet to think of a way to make my bananas last 11 weeks. If anyone has ideas, let me know, because we all know how much I love a good challenge.

I think I'm going to get hopelessly lost one of these days. I almost never know where I'm going and I'm causing my flat-mates anxiety:

"Where's Sam?"

"Oh he left to get some cheap-ass baklava and bananas."

"By himself?"

"Yeah, why?"

"..."

"OH DEAR GOD WHAT HAVE WE DONE"

"CALL THE POLICE SEND A CHOPPER HE'S PROBABLY IN GUAM BY NOW"

... If we were actually in Guam I would probably be dead. That or picked up by the Russian circus... I don't know much about Guam.

Sorry this post wasn't as eventful as others, we're going to cambridge on Saturday and then Oxford on Sunday. Look forward to that! Oxford is where Platform 9 and 3/4 is. For those of you living in misery, not knowing what Harry Potter is (MYA), it's the station at which Harry takes the train to Hogwarts. I know, calm down. We're all losing our minds too.

WELP. That's all for now. Miss ya, looking forward to having something more fun to write about.

peace and looooove y'all.

Break it Down at the Tate

Today we went to the Tate Modern. Trish, my flat-mate, and I met up with some of her friends from BU and checked out some really great art for FREE. I repeat: FREE. I'm pretty sure I started levitating because finding something for free in London is about as rare as immaculate conception.

What's immediately interesting about the Tate is that it used to be a factory before it was converted to a modern art museum. The outside does not look anything like an art museum needless to say. Here's a picture to the left!

I'll have pictures of the art up later because the internet here is SUHLOW

I had my first Fish and Chips while being in London! It was good. lol kind of like in America but it was thrilling nonetheless. Here it is :D

I went to Hyde Park for the first time and let me tell you. It's huge. Not as big as Central Park, but you could probably get lost much easier. Here are some pictures :)

I'm definitely homesick. I know it's normal but I can't help but think of home at the drop of a hat if I'm not physically and mentally involved in something. Fortunately there's a lot to do here and classes start tomorrow. Four. Hour. Classes.... It's good in that I will be occupied for a third of the day but I MIGHT GO INSANE I'M JUST SAYIN, FOUR HOURS OF LECTURE IS A LITTLE INTENSE ARE ALL SUMMER CLASSES LIKE THIS WHY WEREN'T WE WARNED DAMNIT B.U. YOU WIN AGAAAIINNNNNN.

Oh also, if you spend a jillion dollars on one of the events they offer you before you A) know anyone else on the program, B) Know your schedule for class you can't get a refund if you want to reschedule or cancel. Unless of course you happen to rethink your decision to spend 150 pounds on a weekend tour of Whales and sell your ticket to some other schmuck. Design flaw? I THINK SO.

In other news, it's currently hot as balls in our kitchen and my room smells a LIL' like a hamster cage and I'm not sure why. I love a good mystery.

I found an AMERICAN CORNER IN A GROCERY STORE. I almost wept. I entered a market filled with unpreserved deli meets and olives you can pick out of a barrel, longing for a taste of home. I'll admit, it was a little discouraging to realize I was turned off by the most natural food I've ever seen.

I walked to the back and stumbled upon a small miracle... Fluff. FLUFF, PEOPLE. And JIF peanut butter (they don't really do pb in Europe. I KNOW, tragic), and American cereals like Lucky Charms, Golden Grahams, and fruit snacks galore... This is what America is to the rest of the world: We like candy, especially for breakfast. Whatever I was in hog heaven. That is until I took a big ol' gander at the price tag.

six.......... pounds...........

which is like 9 American dollars. FAGGETABOUTIT. I haven't yet mastered the art of crapping out little golden coins and the $13,000 tuition is KIIIINNNNNDDD of looming over my shoulder like the shadow of death itself. So I passed on the fluff.

Any who, we're planning a trip to Scotland which will be different because we haven't seen rural Europe yet and I'm assuming that Scotland will be a magical land of fields, plaid kilts, bagpipes and Shrek. Too crass?

Okay seriously, I'm really excited about seeing the land from which my family hypothetically originated from. There's some confusion... some think we're from England, others from Ireland and others from Scotland. I think I ended up choosing Scotland out of a hat so we'll just go with it until further notice. YAAAY SCOTLAND!! I'm not too sure what to expect to be honest. Either way, I'm eager to discover it for myself. We hope to go in a couple of weeks :)

Okay last note, we walked across the foot bridge that was in Harry Potter! We were going to cast fake spells on everyone but I think we forgot... ha. Look for the pictures on facebook!

Much love,

Sam

Big Ben!
The Eye of London

Fun Fact: The Eye was actually built solely for the celebration of the new millennium in 2000 and was meant to come down after the new year. Many complained that it was an eyesore in the middle of such a historic part of London. However, it brought in so much tourism and therefore money, that it ended up staying as a permanent fixture. People now complain of the older buildings blocking their view of it.

Typical

Cause if you don't you'll lose a leg.

This is where we live: The Crofton on Queens Gate

This is the most expensive place I've ever been in ever.

A little of what we did today:

Woke up at 11 (because we didn't have to do anything for the first time, yaaaaay) and then went to Oxford Circus (again, not a real circus) for some shopping and lunch.

There's a place called Top Shop, a magical, wonderous store that has every freakin kind of shoe you could want. I've literally never seen so many men's shoes at once. I hate shoe shopping because I'm very picky about what I want and there never seems to be much of a choice in the Crystal Mall back home. Go figure. But here, it was almost overwhelming. My friend Trish and I just stood and watched British people go nuts for a while. We had to regain a proper amount of oxygen in our lungs.

I got a few things and ONLY a few things because life is expensive as crap here in the UK. A British professor apologized to us yesterday for how much money we'd be losing in the next few months... he wasn't kidding. The shopping and food is amazing because it costs SO MUCH. Here's the good news: you do get what you pay for. Usually. The poor service and small portions at the Indian restaurant we ate at yesterday was overpriced and the 3 pounds I accidentally spent on a strip show was well, probably underpriced for most people.

HOWever, I got some really nice things for not too much, and this very stylish juice and sandwich shop earned every pence from us. Flattened flax bread with homemade pesto sauce in every sandwich, and fresh fruit that they blend right in front of you. Very nice, Joe and The Juice. Well done. If I wasn't nearing poverty I would frequent your establishment on the daily.

In other news, I learned how to put photos on this thing so here they are! Just some shots of Kensington, Piccadilly Circus, The Thames, and other shhhtuff. They'll be in the blog after this one.

Take care, and have a jolly good day.

How I Unknowingly Paid to See a Strip-show in a Strange City

Orientation is over! Thank the lord! They seriously do not want us to sleep. It's all, "Go out tonight and meet Londoners!" (even thought I'm sure most of London can hear all our loud ass voices from every corner of the city and therefore do NOT want to meet us) and "Try the cider! It's the equivalent to seven beers!" and then it's "Oh, btw, get up at 7 a.m. for a lecture on politics."

Are ya kidding me?

Apparently British people can party until 3 and get up for work several hours later. Goodie.

Last night was especially interesting. First, we went to an Irish pub that had three floors, a live cover band that played pop music (AWESOME) and bartenders that have never heard of a malibu bay breeze.

At around 1 a.m., some other students and I were ready to go. We collected everyone from our group and headed out to the street. Then Dave, our head R.A. said, "Okay! Where to now?" and we were like... "home? please?" This was not good enough for Dave. 1 a.m. is when the party starts... apparently. "No! Let's go to heaven!" he exclaimed (I've nearly been to the actual heaven seeing how I keep forgetting to look RIGHT and not LEFT when crossing the street - London drivers will not stop for you. Maybe I should walk with a dog. Is that crass? Whatever.)

ANYway, Dave really wanted to go to Heaven. We protested at first "DAVE don't do this to us we have lecture at EIGHT FORTY-FIVE IN THE GODFORSAKEN MORNING"

"So?", he said. This went back and forth like this for a bit and twenty minutes later we're at a gay bar with the word HEAVEN in big letters over the doorway. Great.

By the time we got there I'm thinking "Okay, we're here, we might as well have a good time and not stress about getting up at the ass-crack of dawn. After a frisking we were let in for 3 pounds. Not bad. We walk into a huge place with a platform in the middle of the room and a lit up stage. Hundreds of London queers (that IS p.c. btw) were crowded in front of the stage so we couldn't see what all the fuss was about. Dave led me and four other friends of ours to the platform so we could get a better look. After, our six and a half-foot tall RA hoisted us up to the higher platform I saw a dozen men in tight underpants all in a row.

"Dave... what's goin on?" Too my horror, Dave said more or less exactly what I was afraid he was going to say.

"Oh is Porn Idol night," he replied in his quaint british accent as if we were having tea in the park.

"Ah."

Friggen Dave. I KNEW there was a reason he was so adamant about going. Before we knew it, some guy with a bad attitude eliminated all but two to a sudden death round. With one swish of his hand the music queued and in less than two minutes there were two naked men dancing around a giant pole. At this point my jaw dropped and I'm pondering whether or not I'm actually experiencing this. My other friends were more or less just as shocked. "Welcome to England, Sam!" Dave said.

Here's a little factoid about England partiers... they will dance as if there is an invisible forcefield around them and barely invade the space of anyone, but they will also strip naked for hundreds of people. There's no in between. You're either traveling at five miles per hour in a trolly beneath a laced parasol, or you're speeding down the wrong side of the road in a van full of porn stars. Would you like some hot sauce with your tequila?

I kid, I'm sure not all of London is like that, just on porn idol night. After the crowd chose their favorite pair of twigs and berries, they cleared the stage and the dancing commenced. Beyonce played and I practically forgot that we just saw a strip tease. The six of us danced a yankee booties off until Glee's version of "Don't Stop Believin" by Journey came on. If you want to find an American in Europe, play Journey. All of the Americans in the bar somehow gravitated to us in the middle of the floor and joined us in a very screamy rendition of the classic gone Gleek. The British looked on with horror. However, I think they secretly liked our freak-dancing. Get it.

Finally at 3 in the morning we got home and woke up four hours later for lecture. Then we got books I SPENT 12 POUNDS WHICH IS LIKE... IDK HOW MANY AMERICAN DOLLARS BUT WOOOAAAAAHHHHH CHEAP! And then we got lunch at this nice little cafe and I had a toasted focaccia sandwich with goat cheese, ham, and bruschetta, DUHlicious.

Then for dinner we made pasta with the floor family and I burnt my finger before setting the fire alarm off with burnt brownies. Cool.

We're going out for a drink tonight and then the homework starts tomorrow! Gah! Hyde park is going to be a great study lounge ;)

Love you all! Take care, I miss you so much.

Sams

Day/Night One

Okay so I had trouble with the internet which is why I didn't post for the first day in London, so I'll just do day one and two right now.

As we landed in Heathrow yesterday, I felt as though it was lunch time. It was in fact, 7:30 in the morning by the time I got in a cab on my way to the BU building. Time has literally been rewinded five hours for us, making the days seem longer. It's been two days and I feel like it's been five. Woof.

We're all exhausted, there's so much they have planned for us we don't have time to sleep! But it's okay, the other students are great. I feel like I've known some of them for much longer than a couple of days - which is either a result of being sleep deprived or just lucky.

Yesterday (day one) we got a tour of our town. We live in possibly the most expensive part of the second most expensive city in the world (or so I'm hearing), and it shows. Everything is pristine and calm. There are fantastic little cafe's everywhere and the shopping is so high end I get broke every time I walk by the Whole Foods store. Getting a phone is wonderfully cheap however. I bought a pay as you go phone for 20 pounds, which, is a godsend because I would surely get lost and end up in Whales if I didn't have a way to contact people with brains in their heads.

For the First night out we went to a bar called The Social. There was electronic music, men whom I could not tell were gay or straight, and possibly the most complicated whiskey sour I've ever had. After 30 minutes or so, everyone seemed to realize that a bunch of Americans were invading their bar and slowly trickled out. Oh well, on to Piccadilly!

Since everything was closed we didn't stay long in Piccadilly Circus (not a real circus). However we did get a gander at the Believe It Or Not Museum... it was pretty. Yay.

The next day was an early one. We were up at 8, fire drill at 9, orientation at 9 30 (my flat was late because we got coffee, whoops), then a boat ride at 2. We took a ferry up and down the River Thames. I saw Big Ben! -"Big Ben" actually refers to the 13 ton bell inside the tower, and not the tower itself.

We also got to see the London Eye (the giant ass ferris wheel) VERY cool, and there was a bunch of other stuff along the river that was pretty groovey in a far-out kind of way (a.k.a. the foot bridge that was featured in the latest Harry Potter movie. I'm practically famous.)

THEN my flatmates and I made dinner and it was delicious but I'm still jet lagged so I must get some sleep before I walk out into the middle of the street, completely unaware of that giant red double decker bus. Oh yes, by the way, if you don't look right before looking left when you cross the street, you're likely to get plowed by a bite-size beamer. The cars may be small, but I'm convinced the drivers here haven't discovered the brake pedal yet. Every day's an adventure.

Leaving on a Jet Plane OHMYGOD

Okay, so I'm leaving for London today (WOOH!) it actually happened. Thank you Jesus, Santa Clause and Hari Krishna. I honestly don't think I could have done this without the help of some supernatural influence, oh and the fantastic staff at BU. Thanks guys, love ya.

Okay back to me, I'm scared, excited, sad and happy all at once. I'm going to miss everyone so much and I have to keep any nervous bowl movements under control until I meet people over there and become comfortable with them (Jesus, are you listening?). Currently I'm on the verge of an emotional breakdown. I don't know whether to cry, laugh hysterically, pull my eyelashes off, or poop. It's an odd feeling.

I wish I could take my friends and family with me but this is about discovery and taking on something huge on my own. Thank you loving friends and wonderful family for supporting me through this whole process. I love you very much.

I can't wait to take pictures and write as much as I can to tell you all about my adventures in the U.K.! Wish me luck, I'll be in touch soon!

love,

sams

p.s. I can't wait to call the bathroom the LOU. Which you can only do in England...