Time, Where Did You Go?

Hey all,

It’s my last week in a half in London.  I can’t believe I just typed that or that it is true.  Seriously, time does fly when you are having fun.  This morning, my roommate and all my friends went to their last day of internship, leaving me on my own to entertain myself in this city I’ve grown to love.  I decided that today would be a good day to visit Regent’s Park.  Everyone kept mentioning it to me, and I haven’t been there yet, so I hit the trail.  I stopped at Oxford and Regent Street first however, wandering around and taking in the morning.

My mom told me it would be a good idea to take pictures of things that were common to me here, and I have to say, Oxford Circus is one of my favorite areas in London.  Because I have spent so much time here,  I thought I would take some pictures just in case I don’t get the chance to come back before I go home.  It was gray, drizzly, and freezing cold.  Cue most depressing moment of my life potentially.  I was taking pictures of the big red buses, River Island, John Lewis, the tube station, the homeless man selling “The Big Issue”.  Basically everything that made up my time in London.  I started to cross the street, and, without, even thinking about it, I looked the correct way to see if any cars were coming.  For some reason, this just tipped me off, and I just started balling outside of the Armani Exchange.  I tried to put my sunglasses on and pretend I was just standing there, but of course it was raining, so the sunglasses idea wasn’t the most brilliant of plans.  A random construction man (they are so nice in London, by the way) approached me and asks: “You okay, pet?”  In an effort to keep my mouth from spilling my whole life story to this guy, I just sort of mumbled, “Ya, fine”.  I tried looking put together, but I’m sure I just looked sad, or at best hungover.

I caught the bus to Regent’s Park and started walking around.  It was freezing cold and gray,  but I didn’t let this stop me from causing a scene there, as well. Af first, I preoccupied myself with taking pictures of the beautiful tulips, peonies, and roses.  I spent some time admiring the views and walking into random gazeebos.  I found the boat lake and settled down to watch the ducks and swans swim along the waters.  This was slightly relaxing; Regent’s Park is beautifully picturesque and there were tons of sweet smelling flowers surrounding me.  The frigid wind and random spurts of rain put a bit of a downer on my time on the park bench, but I tried not to let it bother me.

The ducks were all different breeds (?) and the pigeons were classy.  I say that to distinguish them from the gross Camden pigeon that I’ve mentioned before.  These were cute and some even had speckled white heads.  I was trying to read my book, Twenties Girl by Sophie Kinsella, but I kept getting distracted by one little pigeon near me.  She was braver than the others, smaller, and definitely more clean.  She wasn’t even begging for food, it seemed like she had just taken a liking to me.  At one point, she even leaped onto the bench and nestled down.  I don’t know what came over me, but the next thing I knew I was leaning over to try and pick her up.  The bird panicked, and out of nowhere comes the park security guard.  He asked me why I thought it’d be a good idea to attack that innocent animal, and I said “I don’t know why I tried to pet her; it wasn’t a good idea”.  And that’s when I figured it’d be a good idea to leave.

It wasn’t until later when I was sitting with my Coke in a little cafe that I realized it probably is time for me to go back to the States.  I need my own pets.  I’m sorry I tried to befriend a pigeon, Zeppelin.  Clearly, I miss my dogs and am looking for animal love through a sick, park pigeon.  Luckily, I only need to stick it out for another week and a half.

Cheers,

Becca

A Day in Brighton (Breiten)

Hey all,

Today we headed to Brighton for the day.  It’s about an hour away by train, but it’s right by the sea.  Sometimes it is known as “London by the sea”.  We arrived early in the morning, Lizzy and I rocking our tank tops and flirty, bouncy skirts.  Beth and Mark, our program directors, told us that the weather was meant to be warm and sunny, and so we dressed that way.  All ready to hit the pebble beach, we had our swimsuits in tow and our chick lit to read.  Turns out the weather predicted was a bit of a fail.  It was windy and only about 50 degrees.  Yikes.  We decided to make the best of it, of course, but a little complaining never hurt anyone (eh Dad? ).

We first went with the rest of the group around the city.  It was rather hilly, but so cute.  The shops reminded me of Paris, built closer together, white, a bit more run down than London.  Although the city wasn’t as cosmopolitan as London, it was beautiful and exactly what a seaside village in Great Britain should be.  The main street of the city lead right down the the beach and we walked the promenade before walking to the Royal Pavilion.  We took a walking tour inside, and it was seriously so beautiful.  On the outside was gorgeous, too.  It belonged to Queen Victoria’s father and the gates and gardens were a gift from India.  The inside is huge, and it was originally a farmhouse.  Now, it is a grand palace called Royal Pavilion, and the rooms were amazing.  Literally the entire palace is decorated with Indian and Chinese elements, literally.  The chandeliers were dragons and the staircases had bamboo railings.  There were snake paintings and snake carpets, and snake sculptures on the bedposts.  It was kinda freaky, actually.

After the tour, Lizzy and I went to find some food.  We walked back down to the pier to look, but of course we stopped at a Cath Kidston on the way.  I love that place.  There are a few in London, and it’s similar to a Vera Bradley in the States.  This was a huge one, and it was crowded with trendy Brighton women (like Lizzy and me, of course).  When we could finally pull ourselves from the cute prints and bags, without buying anything, and a little depressed, we finally found a place to eat near the sea.  It was called Harvester’s and it had a great golden plaque, so obviously, the place was legit.

If Chester was the land of old people, Brighton, and especially this restaurant, was the land of babies.  Honestly, we should have probably looked at the type of people going into this place before we chose to eat there.  Literally, it was the Denny’s or Show Me’s of the UK.  We were wondering why everything on the menu was so cheap.  Because it has the side effects of your Show Me’s (if you catch my drift, Dad).  Plus, the salad bar was the weirdest thing ever.  They don’t have ranch here, so there were options of Bleu Cheese, Thousand Island, Salad Cream (?), and Mayo (SICK).  Also, apparently garlic onions are now a staple for salad toppings, right along with bacon bits and croutons.  Yum, I guess.  Also, they offered potato salad as part of the salad bar.  In the potato salad were whole potatoes, cut in half with mayo spread over them.  I won’t talk about our main dishes because they were gross, and I don’t want anyone to get sick.  But basically, bacon cheddar cheeseburger doesn’t mean the same thing at Harvester’s than it does in America. Sick.

We ventured around the city a bit more before heading back to the train station.  It was fun, but it was so cold.

I loved Brighton!

Cheers,

Becca

“We Love the Cat in Cyprus”

Hey all,

So I know I’m overdue for an update, so I’m going to try and blog as much as possible in these last 5 weeks (I’m crying inside as I write that!) Since I haven’t blogged in so long, this is gonna be a long one.  Don’t hold your breathe or anything.  Be ready to hear about Lizzy, Becca, and Allison’s holiday to Larnaka, Cyprus.  If you can’t find Cyprus on a map (ahem, Aunt Julie… or Dad for that matter), here is it’s position in the world on a map.  Now that our geography lesson is over, it’s time for the fun stuff.

DAY 1:  Lizzy, Al, and I caught a Monarch flight to Larnaca (or Larnaka) Cyprus, leaving a cold, wet, and dreary London behind.  When we arrived in Cyprus, we popped in a taxi to our hotel.  Our taxi driver, Bobby, (unsure if this was a joke) was rocking a nice Mercedes cab, and we felt like celebs as we gazed out the windows.  The terrain reminded me a lot of something you would find in the Middle East, and although it was very bright and sunny, London is much greener.  It was so sandy and rocky, and the vegetation looked like it was build to last.  It’s so different from anything I’ve ever seen before, but so beautiful! As we drove along the beach to our hotel, I was surprised to see pinkish, smoky mountains dotted with white villages in the distance.  Of course, we were determined to go there.

Our hotel, Frixos Hotel Apts, was near the beach, but it wasn’t exactly what we were expecting to say the least.  There was a living room (shoes requires), a kitchenette, a bedroom (twin beds, and we shoved Lizzy’s futon in there as well), and a bathroom (shower smelled like previous anti-deodorant Europeans who had probably stayed there earlier).  While we panicked a little at first, we knew it was late and we were tired.  Also, we felt completely safe, and the view over the pool was amazing, so it was hard to complain.

DAY 2:  It was Easter Sunday, but thought we would head out looking for some bikes to rent anyways.  Of course, nothing was open, but we were able to stop and get some fresh fruit from the local market.  We got some kiwis (huge), pears (best ever), and plums (GIGANTIC).  There were three dogs in the store eating food from plates.  It was clear that these were the neighborhood dogs, and it was so cute and comforting that all the village people feed and take care of them.  It did make me miss the boy, though.

We got a lot of attention from the locals, because we clearly weren’t from the island.  The attention was curiosity mostly, and the woman at the fruit store offered us a slice of her family’s traditional Easter bread. It was a dry, spongey bread with a sweet taste.  She then offered us her son’s hand in marriage.  Needless to say, so far everyone we met has been extremely welcoming and seems to genuinely care that we enjoy our trip.  I thought language would be a problem, but generally everyone has spoken proficient English.

We also layed by our pool and let the sun beat down on us for a few hours (don’t worry I rocked the SPF 50, Mom).  It was great to relax.  London is very busy, and taking the Tube can be exhausting.  The attitude here is much more calm and relaxed.  We walked by the beach and passed by some amazing homes.  People are very family-orientated, and everyone out was with a big group.  The gates and doors to the houses were wide open, which shows how trusting the Cypriots are.

We walked along the beach which had the most amazing clear, blue  waters.  The water looked like Kool-Aid, it was refreshing and shallow, and there were rock formations to dive off of.  We saw some flowers that we had never seen before.  Of course, we took 900 pictures each.  Everything was in bloom.

DAY 3:  On Day 3, the Cyprus beautifuls (aka Lizzy, Allison, and me) got up bright and early and enjoyed a delicious kiwi.  We set out to look for a bike rental place, and we stumbled across one location that rented Vespas.  Of course, we stopped, but the man absolutely refused to rent us the scooters.  Wonder why, maybe the headbands threw him off.  We headed to the next junction near Frixos, which honestly looked a bit shady from the outside.  One thing I’ve noticed about businesses in Cyprus is that most are family-run, and the “Rent a Car” place was no different.  There was crap-ton of stuff everywhere in the office, including a tire and a Saint Bernard, but the owner of the shop was rocking an Armani suit, and he had his wife bring him coffee on a tray.

Eventually, with a 3.50 Euro a day charge a day, we had 3 mountain bikes for the week.  Not 100% sure how to get to the city center, we figured we should just follow the beach because we can see the city from our hotel.  It was about a 40-45 minute ride and we were a little unsure where the main life of the city was.  Following a road lined with Greek and Cypriot flags, we passed an ice rink (random), on our route to the seafront.  It was so beautiful!  There were a lot of people out, walking, swimming, and playing sports on the beach.  All the restaurants had seating outside, and there was a plethora of places to choose from; including American food and traditional Greek cuisine.  People were also lounging at outdoor bars/chill lounges drinking and smoking.  Craving a juicy burger and free refills, we stopped at TGI Friday’s.

Before our meal, we rode along the beach to the Larnaca Fort.  It was smaller than I expected, but extremely well-preserved and beautiful.  We circled around it, but it was closed, like some of the other museums and offices in the city. We also headed out on a pier.  The pier jutted out really far into the sea (as the people say in Cyprus), but the water was so clear and shallow.  The sand and schools of fish under the waves were visible.

We took our bikes to St Lazaros (St Lazarus) Church.  It was in the same style as the fort, and it seemed to be in a residential area, as there weren’t many tourists around. The area seemed a little dirtier than the rest of the city, but the people were really friendly,a dn it was obvious that this was the area were the city Cypriots live.  It’s amazing to me how different the lifestyle is from mine.  Do these people leave home?  Do they go to college?  If not, how does everyone know English? The lifestyle is just so different from life in London.  No one is in a rush, and everyone carries themselves with such a relaxation and ease.  Everyone in London is always in a hurry and their bodies are tense.  Here it is like the clocks are set by feel.

After biking home, we headed to the beach.  Laying out in the sun and wading in the water felt amazing.  There was a mix of locals and tourists, which I found refreshing.  I found that while traveling, especially this trip, that I listen for British accents instead of American ones.  I’ve been here too long, I guess.  A young British family allowed their young son to run completely naked and dig around in the sand (as their toddler devoured handfuls of it), which I found extremely strange, even for Europe.  Aside from the occasional thong and topless sunbather, beach-goers were decently dressed.  In the States, people are so terrified of pedophiles and perverts that they barely let their child out in less than a long sleeve.

Speaking of long-sleeves, we were not able to enter the Church because we were improperly dressed.  Being the provocative Western women we are, Lizzy and my shorts were deemed inappropriate, and Allison’s blue tank top didn’t make the cut.

It’s amazing to see how integrated religion is with daily life here.  There are paintings and sculptures of the holy family in convience stores, which seem to actually sell.  Also, in the business offices of the island, there are huge pictures of Jesus and Mary right along with pictures of their actual family.  Also, many places (family owned mostly) were closed because it was Easter Sunday.

DAY 4: -Planned Scuba excursion, went to store, had soft drinks at Modo Cafe/Bar, layed by pool, lunch in Larnaka, played cards with wine by the pool, went out to Queen’s Arms Pub, Chinese rice at Lil Wong’s for midnight snackage

DAY 5:  Honestly, one of the most amazing days of the semester and definitely the best day of Spring Break.  We got up early to head on our “Cyprus Jeep Safari” tour.  We were the last to be picked up and our tour guide, Hannibul, (fake name?) was friendly and enthusiastic right away.  We were seen off on our day trip by George (the 60+ hotel owner) and Grandpa (as we call him).  They all waved out the window as we left.  Seriously, since coming to Cyprus I feel like multiple old men have adopted me as their favorite granddaughter, and I am perfectly okay with it.

We were the only people in the 10-person Jeep who could only speak English.  Lizzy, Al, and I were once again reminded of the differences between the States and the rest of the world. Everyone else on the bus spoke Russian; they were mostly from Russia, but two were from Estonia.  While we were American and exclusively English-speaking, Hannibul took to us right away and we were quickly nicknamed “his girls” by everyone in the group.

It was a little nerve-racking at first, riding up the mountains, especially when Hannibul is fond of stopping and sharing facts about random plant life with the group.  That I can remember, we saw eucalyptus, thyme, sage, lavender, gold tree, lemon, orange, artichoke, and curry leaves all grow wild on the island.  Although I think London is greener, clearly this is the place to get stuck.

Our first stop was at the village of Lefkara in the mountains.  The village seemed petite to us, but there many houses, including summer homes and a school.  We had a glass of the traditional Cypriot wine (oldest wine in the world, holler!) which was very dark red and extremely sweet.  The village is also famous for silver and lace, and we were able to see some samples in a shop.  The lace is crafted by the women of Lefkara entirely by hand, without any machines.  Living in London and growing up in the suburbs of the US, it shocks me that there are places in the world where people live in mountain villages and make hand-made lace.  It’s so simple, yet so beautiful that this still happens in the world.  It’s clear from my experience in Cyprus that careers, money, and success are second to human relationships, an idea which is so refreshing.

Winding up the mountain while being off road was scary, but joking around with Hannibul and learning Greek was a pleasant distraction.  We tried a few Russian tongue-twisters before teaching one of our own, “How Now Brown Cow”.  We also learned hello in Russian and Greek.  Hannibul had a great sense of humor which was great since we were bouncing off ridges and cliffs 1000+ meters above sea level.

We stopped at  very beautiful and scenic location on our way to lunch where limestone and lava rock could be seen together.  Also, if you yell in a group, the echo is taken by the wind and can be heard echoing on a different mountain.  It was really cool, and super weird.  We also stopped at a traditional Cypriot cafe for coffee.  The cafe is traditionally for males only.  The men sit and enjoy both on the porch and in the cafe while the women work in the village.  It amazed me that this still goes in in EUROPE, but I reminded myself that Cypriot culture is different.  Inside we sat and two older men started asking our tour guide about us.  I got nervous thinking they were upset because we were sitting, but really they wanted to talk to us.  Talking to them was amazing!  They had so many questions: about college in the States, New York, life in Chicago, the Midwest, life in London, George W Bush, Florida, Barack Obama, Christianity… They also told us they had never seen three women so beautiful and so clever (duh).  The most heart melting moment was when the man patted me on the arm and asked me to come back to cafe sometime.  being in such a traditional cafe in rural Cyprus where women aren’t allowed in, having such a genuine invite was flattering and kind.  Because tourism to Cyprus is dominated by Europeans, and we were in such a rural area, it is extremely likely that we are the first Americans these men have met.

We ate lunch at the Dolphin Cafe before heading to the waterfall and Monastery.  The waterfall was pretty, and because Cyprus is so dry, it looked so good.  Our next stop was the very famous Kykkos Monastery in the north of the island.  Kykkos, built in the 11th century, had a different structure than the 1 I saw in Assisi, Italy, bit it was so lovely and almost completely open-air.  My favorite part was the small, but golden and ornate, chapel where the Greek Orthodox icon is held.  The icon is of the Virgin Mary and it was painted by Saint Luke the Apostle in the mountains of the island.  Many member of the Greek Orthodox Church make a pilgrimage to see and kiss the icon, and watching people kneel, kiss, and caress the icon was completely foreign and beautiful to me.  Especially since living in London, it is rare to see such belief and devotion in faith.

Before heading home, we drove through Nicossia (busy!) and saw the mountains of Turkey.  Lizzy and I also split a deliciously overpriced glass of pure fresh Cyprus orange juice.

Sorry this is long overdue.

Cheers,

Becca

Did You Know Obama’s Irish?

Hey all,

Happy St. Pat’s Day week!  My favorite holiday is just 3 days away (ah!).  So to celebrate, Lizzy, Mo, Nikki, Tom, and I headed to Trafalgar’s Square for the St. Patrick’s Day parade.  We were so excited; the parade started at noon, so we left at 10 15 to check out the square.  It was completely decked out with two bars and different food stands.  There was a huge stage with “Dublin’s number one unsigned band” playing.  We were a little nervous that we were leaving too early and that the square would be kinda dead.  How wrong we were.  We were entertained for a solid 25 minutes by two men in the worst bowl-cut toupees dancing to dirty hip hop.  I don’t know if they wanted money or what, but they seemed to be having a good time either way.  They loved Mo and took a picture with him.  The dancing was interesting to say the least.  I mean, I think someone needs to tell them that just because you are wearing tailor-made snakeskin shoes doesn’t mean that high-water green trousers are appropriate dance wear.  We stopped watching the guys dance about the time they started grinding, American-style, with an old woman with spray green hair.  It was a little too much to handle.

Before the parade actually started, we were starved, so we hit up some of the food stands.  I headed straight for the hot dog stand and was in awe.  The hot dogs were huge and looked so delicious.  Especially because every now and then I could really go for a HD, so I ordered one.  You know when you really want a hot dog, but then you accidently get a Bratwurst instead and you just want to cry? I had that moment.  The damn hot dog was so weird/disappointing.  First of all, I haven’t yet mentioned Britain’s obsession with onions.  You find them everywhere: on your cheeseburger, sprinkled on the pizza, in the chicken bakes, and, apparently, lurking in your hot dog. So depressing.  I couldn’t handle it.  I gave a bite to Nikki and all she said was: “Well this is weird.”  That pretty much sums up the meal.  And the parade.

Now I love a good parade.  I’ll complain about it to high heaven, what with the crowds and the getting up early and stuff.  Still, I love them, and I was really looking forward to this one.  I like to think I’m good with words and descriptions, but honestly there is no way to describe this parade except to say this: it was weird.  Literally, not like your good ole American St. Patty’s Day festivities.  First of all, the square was crowded.  There were so many people, and they were all dressed up and ready to go.  And then the parade was dead.  Seriously, it was funny almost.  The crowd had no energy, and it was so calm.  They don’t throw candy or beads or anything like that either.  According to the woman next to me, it’s because “we’re way too cheap and cautious for that”.  It was just funny because the people in the damn parade didn’t even seem happy.  The drummer in one of the marching bands literally had his eyes closed the whole time.  There weren’t many floats, and the floats that were there were completely half-assed.  The trucks pulling them were not even decorated or anything.  It was like truck then float with no transition.  St. Pat’s Day on a budget for sure.  I also loved the random people walking in the parade.  These people were carrying Tesco bags and stuff.  And they were just wearing street clothes and sunglasses.  They looked like they literally wandered into the parade.  Maybe they did, who knows.

Of course, I have to tell you about my two favorite floats.  The first wasn’t really a float so much as a vehicle.  It was a big blue bus, with no banner, sign or anything, full of old British people.  Were they waving? Nope.  Were they representing something? Nah.  Were there just a few? Negative.  Literally, it was a huge blue bus stuffed with old people.  That’s it.  The windows weren’t even down or anything.  The people weren’t even waving.  One was reading a newspaper, and a couple of others were just looking around.  It was so strange, but so hilarious.

And then we have the finale float.  Wow.  I’m not sure what it was or who it represented.  But it was just a big float of Obama.  As in our President.  Yeah.  I’ll let you picture that one.

Cheers,

Becca

I Give You Large Portion!

Hey all,

After class today, Lizzy, Allison and I decided to head to Camden Town, despite the bitterly cold weather.  We took the Northern Line start to the Camden Town stop and headed to the market.  We stopped at some really cute shops on the way, where we unfortunately bought nothing. Although we were tempted to steal, we held back.

Just the walk to the market was insane.  There were so many colors and people.  Everyone was tatted up and pierced, which means that Allison, Lizzy, and I with our high waisted skirts, teased hair, and floral headbands fit right in.  Not.  We loved the market, but it was definitely  apparent that we weren’t the target demographic.  A man passing out flyers for a tattoo parlor that was just down the street didn’t give us a second glance.  And he didn’t even give us a flyer.  Were we mad? Nah… We were at Camden, our new favorite market!

The market was very different than any market that we have been to so far.  It seemed like it was nestled into an area off the street, and it had it’s own street.  It was like it’s own little world.  When you first walk in, you are bombarded by food.  Seriously, there is food on all sides.  It smells amazing.  You would think the smell of Moroccan, Japanese, Mexican, and Italian food might clash, but you would be so wrong.  The market was busy even though it was a week day, but there weren’t that many people by the food.  When we walked by people were screaming at us, shoving yummy samples in our faces, saying “Three? Three plates, sweeties?”  At first it was a little overwhelming because we were hungry, and we didn’t really know where to start with the food.  So we just decided to explore the market.

Honestly, there was a ton of different stands.  There were stands for the scary, rocker bike chick with super expensive chains and leather corsets.  There were stands with pretty feminine, Chanel-inspired clothing.  There were music stands playing Arabic music, MJ, and Indie rock.  There were stands with bright Indian scarves and bracelets, and there were stands where it seems that everything there was stolen out of someone’s house.  We tried to check as many of them out as possible.  It was just so cold that we really didn’t get to stay as long as we would have liked.  However, we were there for probably 2 hours.

On the way out, it was time for a little lunch.  We mentally prepared before throwing ourselves to the depths of the food section.  We decided up front to take samples that looked good, avoid eye contact, and go with something that wouldn’t make us attached to the porcelain throne for the next 3 days.  We stopped for samples of Moroccan food (a little too mushy, a little too brown) and Indian food (having it for lunch tomorrow!) before finding our little Chinese stand.  The woman handed us samples of sweet and sour chicken with plain crispy chicken and kept pointing frantically at the noodles going: “I give you large portion! Only 4 pounds! You mix! You mix with large portion!”  We trusted her, and in the end, it was a great decision.  I got sweet and sour chicken (the sauce was DELICIOUS, sorry Panda Express) with crispy chicken and lo mein noodles (sorry, intestines).  There was SO much food packed into that little bowl, it was crazy.  She wasn’t lying.  The woman was also really gracious and pointed out where we could sit and eat.  While eating, we talked about how crappy it would be to work at one of those stands.  The competition is intense.  There might be five stands in one little corner, and unless you have some crazy cuisine, your ethnic food is probably just another stand of Japanese sushi or Turkish kebabs.  Anyway, this Chinese was awesome.

Until we met the pigeons.  Now, aside from the fact that I always want to drop kick them (don’t judge they are the perfect size, you know it), the pigeons usually don’t gross me out or bother me.  Not that I want to adopt one and hoard it in my room in Vandon, but I generally just accept them for what they are: a classic, kind of annoying part of London.  Until I met the Demon Pigeons of Camden Town.  Holy God.  First of all, I’m just happily enjoying my Chinese when I hear this come out of Lizzy’s mouth: “Oh my god, oh my god, it doesn’t have a leg.  Oh wait, it’s injured.”  Okay, as much as I love Lizzy, I ignored the comment.  She could have been talking about anything, knowing her.  And then I hear Allison: “Okay, they are like swarming us.”  Annoyed, I look up from the Chinese I have been shoveling into my mouth like it’s the end of the world, and I see it.  We are literally surrounded by the nastiest pigeons I have ever seen in my life.  They are everywhere.  They are perched on the edges of both tables nearest to us on the right.  They are lined up like some kind of army on the left.  They are at our feet, they are behind us on the lampposts.  And the worst, they are flying around our heads, hovering over our Chinese.  (I can’t really blame them, it was damn good).  Okay, now if these would have been normal pigeons, I probably would have just ignored them and called them a pain.  But these were not normal pigeons.  These looked like they had crawled up from the belly of hell.  They all had red rings around their nasty yellow eyes, and there were feathers were greasy and muffled.  They were super fat, and half of them were crippled or injured in some way.  If I wasn’t so worried about catching some kind of disease from them, I would have felt bad.  We managed to ignore them for a little bit-until they swooped.  We all freaked out and screamed while Mr. Turkish food from one stand over laughed out loud at us.  It wasn’t that funny, I mean Satan’s personal fleet of pigeons was just inches from my face.  Needless to say, we ate fast and got the hell outta there.

Not before stopping for some of the cutest cupcakes ever of course.  The man working the stand was flustered by our beauty, however, meaning that we got 9 cupcakes for 4 pounds.  Nice.  Of course, the man could have been distracted by the giant disease carrying birds following us, but whatever.

Cheers,

Becca

THIS IS LONG! Spain!

Hey all,

Before I get started telling you all about my beautiful weekend in Espana, I thought I would thank everyone for reading my blog and commenting.  I love writing my blog (I just wish I had more time to do it!), and it’s amazing to know that people are reading it.  Also, if you have commented and your comment isn’t posted right away it’s because for some stupid reason I have to approve them.  I’m trying to figure out how to auto-approve them but so far no luck.  Also, sorry for my post delay.  I have been very, very sick for the past week.  It’s been awesome, not.

Anyways, as I mentioned above, I went to my second favorite city in the world (after London, of course) this past weekend: Barcelona, Spain.  Lizzy, Allison, Sadie, and I left on Thursday afternoon and returned home to London Sunday evening.  A really good friend of mine, Grant, is studying in Barcelona, so the girls and I were planning on spending lots of time with him.  Another girl, Jackie, was supposed to come with us to Barcelona (she was on a different flight), but her flight was canceled, and there weren’t any available flights for the rest of the weekend.  We were sad that she couldn’t make it, but we knew that we would still have a great time in the city.

After making it to our hostel and navigating the underground metro in a different language (I think I have officially gotten over my dislike of public transportation), we were exhausted and hungry.   We went to a random restaurant near our hostel, which turned out to be the best idea ever.  First of all, it was cheap and it had beer taps on the table.  Awesome.  Each of us had a glass of Estrella with our chicken and cheese sandwiches (when you have no idea what the menu is saying, you tend to just order what everyone else gets).  The charge was 7 Euro per liter of beer, and you could watch the numbers go up on a TV screen in the center of the room.  Now I know that sounds fancy, but honestly that TV screen was the most modern thing in that restaurant.  Now not that I judge the place, I mean it had taps at the tables and the best chicken and cheese sandwich of my life, but the menu was printed on a piece of computer paper.  It made me a little nervous at first, but the place turned out to be yummy yummy.

On Friday morning, we woke up to clear blue skies and 70-degree weather.  Of course, we freaked out.  I love London, but my body was ready for a little sun.  My skin wasn’t, of course, so the girls bronzed in the Barcelona sunshine.  The color I got was a rosy pink on my chest and face.  I rocked it, of course, but it was a tad bit painful.  Welcome to my life.  We got extremely detailed and slightly confusing directions for the reception man at Hello! BCN (our hostel) to the Parc Guell that Gaudi designed and built.  I have already been there before, but I loved it, and I knew the girls would die.  None of them have been to Barcelona before, so I was the only “seasoned” one.  Well, not seasoned so much as familiar.

After getting more direction from a Spanish lady we headed up the 9,000 escalators to the Parc.  First of all, I should use the word directions loosely, as the woman mostly yelled in loud Spanish and did a lot of crazy arm movements and pointing while we stood there and pretended to understand exactly what she was saying.  We ended up just kind of stalking her and looking around for the escalators.  When we finally found them, we just acted like we knew where we had been going the whole time.  The escalators were such a blessing as this Parc is straight up a mountain.  Al and Sadie are both terrified of heights, so Lizzy and I comforted on the way up.  Sorry, Mom, you wouldn’t have made it.   Good thing I have pictures.

Parc Guell was just as beautiful as I remembered it.  We hit up all the hotspots: the bench, the market place, the runway thing where America’s Next Top Model had the finale in Cycle 6.  Lizzy and I took about 600 pictures pretending to walk to runway, obviously.  Clearly you can take the American television away from the girl, but you can’t take it out of the girl.  Tyra Banks would have been so proud.  Of course we were cultural too, we saw the house were Gaudi spent 20 years of his life, along with the Salamander fountain that was on the cover of my Spanish 1 book (No idea that Salamander was actually a famous landmark, way to tell us Senora Endres).  For those of you who don’t know the history behind Gaudi’s Parc Guell, I’ll give you a short run down.  Gaudi built the place during his prime to be a sort of community in the mountains of Barcelona.  He built everything a little community would need in his “Gothic Fairytale” art form.  There’s a marketplace, locations for restaurants, community center, school, and of course houses.  Think creepy-ass New Town in St. Charles, only way more legit and looking over the city and the Mediterranean.  So actually don’t think New Town, but it’s the same kind of concept.  Well, even though he built this beautiful community with all these amenities and lovely houses, he only sold a few of them.  It was a complete bust.  The place just kind of sat there for a while before people realized how awesome it was and turned it into a free park for the public.  Anyway, it is a must see for anyone going to Barcelona. However, beware of the street (park?) performers.  Some of them are cool, like the Flamenco dancer and the headless man.  However, we stopped to look at one guy who was laying in this cave thing with all these dogs/puppies around him.  Honestly, there were prob 15 of them.  He had one of those big long things Aborigines play, and Lizzy yells out: “Oh my god!”  The man, who we thought was passed out, goes: “There is no God.  God is an illusion.”  And that’s when it was time for lunch.

The hostel reception man who gave us the confusing directions recommended a place for us to eat by the beach.  We told him our only wants were: 1) the restaurant allowed us to sit outside 2) the place had Sangria.  The place the guy told us to go to was called Resturante Salamanca.  I have no idea why we listened to this guy.  He had already given us crappy directions, but we didn’t know where else to eat.  When we found the restaurant, we noticed that it was by the beach, but there was nowhere to eat outside.  Why didn’t we turn around then? No idea.  We walked inside the place and were seated at a table, with another computer paper menu in full Spanish.  First of all, there was no freaking Sangria. Obviously, having no idea what to order, we asked our waiter for guidance.  He told to order something that had “lots of different things, like jam”.  We all thought, oh jam, that sounds delicious.  So we order it.  Our waiter returns to our table with these little meat skins and this tuna mound in the middle.  Literally it was like they skinned a pig and gave it to us.  We realized after that when the server said “jam”, he was trying to say “ham”.  When he brought out the yummy seafood dish we had thought we had ordered, there was mild panic.  Basically, it was like they found a fish in the Mediterranean, threw it in a deep fryer, cut it in half, and then served it to us.  Lizzy broke out in hives at the sight, and I could not stomach the fact that I was eating something with eyes (seriously), and fried gills.  When Sadie realized the thing had teeth, that’s when we all realized we needed to get the f outta there.  Pescadilla Frita=fail.  After our less than satisfactory lunch, we headed to the beach and laid out in our boots and leather jackets.  Any other time I would have silly, but it was great to lay by the water, relax, and let the sun freckle our noses.  Who knows how long we laid before heading back to the hostel, but on the way back, we down Las Ramblas, the most famous street in Spain, and one of the most famous in the world.  It was so colorful and crowded, with so many street performers and stands.  We popped in a market and bought some delicious fresh fruit before stopping for some churros (YUM) and chocolate (DOUBLE YUM) for our afternoon snack.  By the time we returned to Hello! BCN we were exhausted and ready to nap.  Until we walked into the room and saw we had a new roomie.  Of course, we creeped on his stuff extensively.  He had a ZARA MAN sweater, size L (good dresser, average build), Hugo Boss cologne, (potentially uses it instead of shower, however, sexy nonetheless), black pants, neatly pressed (business man).  Anyway, by the time Mihow (our roommate) came home, we had made some pretty big and optimistic conclusions about him.  All of which were wrong, sadly.  He was from Poland, probably about 5’7, and was super awkward.  He wore a polo shirt to bed, and def used that cologne as an excuse not to shower.   He also seemed quite uncomfortable with the fact that he was sharing a room with 4 of the most beautiful women in London.  The jerk requested a room change for the next night.  Clearly, we were offended.

The next day, we headed to the Sagrada Familia, which was so beautiful.  It’s so amazingly detailed, it is almost overwhelming.  Like idiots, we paid the 10 freakin euro to go inside (do not do this), were it is basically just construction.  I will not go in again for another 30 years until it is done.  After that, we met up with Grant, and he took us to eat real Spanish tapas.  They were so delicious, but very deep-fried.   We ate at a place that over looked the harbor before getting the yummiest gelato of my life.  Although we were pretty tired from visiting the Cathedral, Grant took us to Montjuic, where there is a historical fort and castle.  It was my favorite thing we did in Barcelona!  We rode to the top in a train, and then to the fort in a gondola.  The views were amazing, and we were all snapping pictures.  We took a look inside the castle and took a ton of pictures.  Even from a mountain, Barcelona has so much energy and color.  Also, Grant took us to see where the Olympics were held in 1992, which was actually a lot more interesting that I thought it would be.  That night, we went to Chuppitos, a bar that serves strictly novelty shots.  Being smart girls, we limited our cash and agreed to stay for only an hour.  However, in that hour, we sampled the Harry Potter shot (fire with an orange on top), the Boy Scout shot (shot is lit on fire, roast a marshmellow, eat marshmellow, take shot, MY FAVE), the Princess (boring), Finding Nemo (find the gummy Nemo in the whipped cream), the Bulldog (go Drake!), the Pata (super sweet cheery cherry), and the Devil’s Patch (don’t ask).

Anyway, we had a GRAND time in Barcelona, and were so sad to leave the great weather .  Mom, Ellen, and the rest of Broads come in just 2 weeks! Then Larnaca, Cyprus with Allison and Lizzy .

Cheers,

Becca

Flavor of the Week

Hey all,

Yesterday, Al, Lizzy, and I headed to Spitalfield’s Market for some fun.  However, like the smarties we are, we found out where the tube stop was but not when the market was open.  So sadly, we ventured to the market the one Saturday it was closed, bullocks.  The area was pretty cool and we went into a few shops where I sadly did not purchase anything.  I fell in love with some lace-up boots before realizing they cost more than my entire wardrobe combined.

Al thought Brick Lane was nearby so we walked the area and stumbled across it.  On the way we saw Alexa Chung from MTV’s It’s On! With Alexa Chung sporting blue metallic leggings.  I was a little iff-y about Brick Lane before, but my girl Alexa raised my comfort level substantially.  I was glad we found it because there was so much food and it all smelled amazing.  You could really see the culture of the city in the market.  There was Asian food, Moroccan food, Turkish food, food that looked spicy but smelled really good… the mix of smells, people, and colors was amazing. We looked for my camera but couldn’t find it (haha).

After Brick Lane, we rested for a while before heading to Scoop, the gluten-free gelato joint in Covent Garden.  I’m obsessed.  Lizzy, Al, and I each got four scoops of gelato because there was a special.  At least that’s what we told ourselves to justify the fact that we were taking in our calories for the day in a midnight snack.  I got milk and chocolate; biscuit; white chocolate; and Arabian coffee. So delicioussss.  Almost as delicious as the yummy man working behind the counter who was just as tasty as the ice cream.

Today,  Al and I headed to the Clink Prison Museum, the first prison in Europe.  It was really interesting to see the models of the original prison, and I’m sure that place is teeming with paranormal activity.   I wouldn’t recommend it, but it was really funny to go with Al, especially considering there were so many typos on the signs.  I mean, it wasn’t the most professional place.  Although we did see a chastity belt, and let me just say, ow.

Cheers,

Becca