Everything in London is well post brief but needed disappearance to Denmark. After more UK units of alcohol than I care to count, Kelsi and I missed our bus (twice, almost three times), missed our train by an hour and 20 minutes, and still got to Gatwick with time for breakfast. Baller, I know. No matter if we spent the entire bus ride fantasizing about bagging the whole operation, or if it took me five minutes to figure out how to get a Gatorade out of the vending machine on the National Express platform, we arrived in Copenhagen with no means of communication and a massive combined hangover. Clearly ready to take over the world.
Luckily, pay phones are a worldwide lifesaver, and we were able to find Andrea and make our way to the center of the city. Being the Ohioan that I am, I frolicked in the snow the entire five days we were there and basically rejoiced at my brief return to the winter I'm missing back in the States. Copenhagen--like the rest of Denmark--is extremely tiny, so Andrea was able to show us most of the city center before taking us back to her apartment in Norrebro. Despite the fact that Norrebro is supposed to be the sketchiest neighborhood in Copenhagen (if you've been to Denmark, you'll understand how funny that sentence is in the first place), it--like Andrea--is absolutely lovely. In short, we played house all weekend and cooked amazing food and sat around under blankets while drinking like Scandinavians to keep warm.
Highlights include: A hippie commune in the middle of Copenhagen where everyone legally buys weed and stands around trash can fires and is happy. Attempting (successfully) homemade gnocchi and trying to grasp the concept of hygge...also with great success :) Olympic curling stance. I'll leave that one at that. Walking across frozen lakes in the snow at 2 a.m., once the right way, and once narrowly escaping a Danish disaster. Noticing that Danish boys act like they're at a middle school dance when they're out at clubs; they stand behind you for like ten minutes before they even dare to touch you. And they go out in their ski jackets. Making it home much more easily than we got there, but mostly realizing that you can be really fucking stupid and still get around the world, and have a jolly good time at that.
Tryk = push, Traek = pull...and they sound exactly the same.
xxx
Friday, 26 February 2010
Tuesday, 16 February 2010
Fail
It's really hard to blog, especially when you have nothing to do. For instance, the only reason I'm writing this right now is that I'm supposed to be finishing (read: starting) a 2,500 word essay before I leave for Denmark on Thursday morning. Oops. So instead of pretending I actually know what happened during the Falklands War--my knowledge of which stops about 37 minutes into This is England and picks up again at 'Margaret Thatcher was proper shit'--I'm attempting to summarize the last 2.5 weeks of my life.
Lessons of the month:
1) While you're getting ginned, it's way harder than it looks to know when to drink. Thank Jesus for the fact that (though they'll deny it) '4 shots' in Britain are an alcoholic American 2. Nobody else thinks it's depressing to get older.
2) NEVER attempt new slang when drunk and tired -- you'll end up announcing to someone of the opposite sex that you "don't wear knickers". Knickers are NOT the same thing as trousers.
3) There is no right time for someone else to enter a conversation about oral fixations. Ever.
4) I will never live down 85% of the things I say in public.
5) I've said this before, but British people are RACIST. Like, scary racist. At 5 a.m. on the night bus a few weeks ago, this chavvy white woman literally physically assaulted some guy who wouldn't turn his music down 2 seats behind Amanda and me. When other people on the bus got involved, it only took a predictable 1-2 seconds for the 'go back to your country' comments to start flying. Ew. Stupid people piss me off at home, but somehow the smart accent makes Brits wear it even worse than we do.
6) Man panties are 1.50 at Primark, appear to only come in varying combinations of pink, and are the best pajamas of all time when you don't want to do your laundry.
7) British people don't understand the concept of iced coffee...it even sucks at Starbucks.
8) Double strength juice.
9) Nobody here checks their e-mail, which I love. I despise uptight, e-mail obsessed Americans. There's no way you're important enough at age 20 to check your e-mail more than once a day. Have a signature at the end of your e-mail in university? You're probably a douchebag.
10) There are some things that are the same everywhere, namely: vending machines, awkward conversations on public transportation, bitchy TAs, token inappropriate, offensive conservative kids in lecture (usually obsessed with the military, short-haired and unfortunately competent at borderline racial slurs in academic discussion), and chocolate.
11) It's probably always raining in London, even if it's sunny. If you think it's sunny, you're wrong...or at least you will be within the next 15 minutes.
Alas, poor Fanny.
xxx
Lessons of the month:
1) While you're getting ginned, it's way harder than it looks to know when to drink. Thank Jesus for the fact that (though they'll deny it) '4 shots' in Britain are an alcoholic American 2. Nobody else thinks it's depressing to get older.
2) NEVER attempt new slang when drunk and tired -- you'll end up announcing to someone of the opposite sex that you "don't wear knickers". Knickers are NOT the same thing as trousers.
3) There is no right time for someone else to enter a conversation about oral fixations. Ever.
4) I will never live down 85% of the things I say in public.
5) I've said this before, but British people are RACIST. Like, scary racist. At 5 a.m. on the night bus a few weeks ago, this chavvy white woman literally physically assaulted some guy who wouldn't turn his music down 2 seats behind Amanda and me. When other people on the bus got involved, it only took a predictable 1-2 seconds for the 'go back to your country' comments to start flying. Ew. Stupid people piss me off at home, but somehow the smart accent makes Brits wear it even worse than we do.
6) Man panties are 1.50 at Primark, appear to only come in varying combinations of pink, and are the best pajamas of all time when you don't want to do your laundry.
7) British people don't understand the concept of iced coffee...it even sucks at Starbucks.
8) Double strength juice.
9) Nobody here checks their e-mail, which I love. I despise uptight, e-mail obsessed Americans. There's no way you're important enough at age 20 to check your e-mail more than once a day. Have a signature at the end of your e-mail in university? You're probably a douchebag.
10) There are some things that are the same everywhere, namely: vending machines, awkward conversations on public transportation, bitchy TAs, token inappropriate, offensive conservative kids in lecture (usually obsessed with the military, short-haired and unfortunately competent at borderline racial slurs in academic discussion), and chocolate.
11) It's probably always raining in London, even if it's sunny. If you think it's sunny, you're wrong...or at least you will be within the next 15 minutes.
Alas, poor Fanny.
xxx
Sunday, 31 January 2010
Well...
There are no rules in London, despite the plethora of CCTV cameras claiming to stalk my every move. Also, people like you to celebrate your birthday for 5 or 6 days straight, which is tiring. That's me: avoiding 21 and keeping it trashy. Things you wish you'd seen but weren't cool enough to handle...
1) The dirtiest drinking game known to man
2) Tequila bottles with sombreros for lids. Detachable sombreros...just in case you want to wear them when you're through.
3) Evangelical wackjobs on a Sunday morning bus telling you the world is coming to an end, and (shocker) you're probably going to hell. Especially poignant when, considering recent behavior, you just might be.
4) Sexual innuendos about curry vindaloo (don't ask, don't tell)
5) Any and everything that happens here, ever.
Weekly bus & tube pass? 25 quid. Drinks at Fubar? 1-5 quid, depending on the bartender. Narrowly escaping trouble via a butch security woman at 1:30 a.m., even when the evidence is right in front of her face? Priceless.
Some people think I'm bonkers, but I just think I'm free.
xxx
1) The dirtiest drinking game known to man
2) Tequila bottles with sombreros for lids. Detachable sombreros...just in case you want to wear them when you're through.
3) Evangelical wackjobs on a Sunday morning bus telling you the world is coming to an end, and (shocker) you're probably going to hell. Especially poignant when, considering recent behavior, you just might be.
4) Sexual innuendos about curry vindaloo (don't ask, don't tell)
5) Any and everything that happens here, ever.
Weekly bus & tube pass? 25 quid. Drinks at Fubar? 1-5 quid, depending on the bartender. Narrowly escaping trouble via a butch security woman at 1:30 a.m., even when the evidence is right in front of her face? Priceless.
Some people think I'm bonkers, but I just think I'm free.
xxx
Wednesday, 20 January 2010
Photographic Evidence
Nothing of interest to report, except that I've finally found something I'm worse at than walking down stairs without falling: rolling cigarettes. Oh my God. I've been going to lectures (I get made fun of when I call them classes here), but they don't happen that often and nobody studies abroad to waste time pondering the greatness of their module choices, so yeah. Mostly I treasure my lunchtime pint of cider, try on beautiful British clothes and devise plans to prevent myself from gaining 60 pounds by June 5. We'll see.
I sort of feel like a freshman again here, which I'm actually enjoying. It's so refreshing not to be bored, and people here are less judgmental and jaded than they are in New York. Nobody looks at you like you're the spawn of the devil if you admit to--heaven forbid--liking something. Novel idea. I'm sure most of my perception of Londoners is clouded by the fact that they're all new to me, but on the whole they've seemed more open and less caught up than a lot of the people I'm used to interacting with at home. Less insecure, self-obsessed clones of each other and more interested in having a fucking good time. Obviously I love New York, but towards the end of last semester I was finding it almost laughably superficial and the people there increasingly drove me insane. It's nice to be around people who seem to care more about enjoying what they're doing than spending their time pretending (wishing, probably) that everyone is watching them and probably wants to take their picture.
So that's London. Different every day, but definitely always lovely.
Cheers.
I sort of feel like a freshman again here, which I'm actually enjoying. It's so refreshing not to be bored, and people here are less judgmental and jaded than they are in New York. Nobody looks at you like you're the spawn of the devil if you admit to--heaven forbid--liking something. Novel idea. I'm sure most of my perception of Londoners is clouded by the fact that they're all new to me, but on the whole they've seemed more open and less caught up than a lot of the people I'm used to interacting with at home. Less insecure, self-obsessed clones of each other and more interested in having a fucking good time. Obviously I love New York, but towards the end of last semester I was finding it almost laughably superficial and the people there increasingly drove me insane. It's nice to be around people who seem to care more about enjoying what they're doing than spending their time pretending (wishing, probably) that everyone is watching them and probably wants to take their picture.
So that's London. Different every day, but definitely always lovely.
Cheers.
Sunday, 17 January 2010
68 to West Norwood
Ello, mates.
Long time no blog. Mostly, this is because if I were to actually recap the last week of my life I would sound like a lazy, nocturnal alcoholic nightmare. While that may be an accurate description, I figure it's best to spare my mum (+1 for Brit-speak) the details. Since most of my classes don't start until this week, my days have consisted of waking up at 1 (1300, according to my phone), eating at 4, and spending the rest of my time forcing myself to get dressed and make plans. Also, I Skype. Sometimes, I take a picture or two. I even shop. But mostly I lounge.
Things I've learned about Britain in the last 10 days? Instead of pre-game, they say 'pre-lash', and--considering that 'lash' is another word for get obliterated--this actually makes sense. Coffee with milk is 'white coffee'...if you don't order it the right way, be prepared for a condescending look and a correction. Apparently milk is not free. There are a lot of racist people here, and they really care about passports. When taking the night bus, know at what points in the hour it comes. This is especially important if you're in the middle of nowhere, alone and caught in the snow. Almost none of the rules in dorms (halls) actually apply. I should try harder to remember the difference between northern and southern accents. 'Estates' are housing projects. Don't offer a British person a lighter with a safety on it. They become annoyed. You can 'hire a mattress' for 1.50 should you ever need to stay on a friend's floor in another hall, because crashing on a bathroom rug with a sweater (jumper!) for a pillow is much too uncivilized. Everything comes with chips...everything. Stay away from Brown Sauce. Finally, if you go to the pub, you will never make it out.
Old people keep telling me that I'll 'take something away' from this experience, but as of yet the only thing I'm taking away are McDonald's chicken nuggets and brain cells.
London is fun.
Long time no blog. Mostly, this is because if I were to actually recap the last week of my life I would sound like a lazy, nocturnal alcoholic nightmare. While that may be an accurate description, I figure it's best to spare my mum (+1 for Brit-speak) the details. Since most of my classes don't start until this week, my days have consisted of waking up at 1 (1300, according to my phone), eating at 4, and spending the rest of my time forcing myself to get dressed and make plans. Also, I Skype. Sometimes, I take a picture or two. I even shop. But mostly I lounge.
Things I've learned about Britain in the last 10 days? Instead of pre-game, they say 'pre-lash', and--considering that 'lash' is another word for get obliterated--this actually makes sense. Coffee with milk is 'white coffee'...if you don't order it the right way, be prepared for a condescending look and a correction. Apparently milk is not free. There are a lot of racist people here, and they really care about passports. When taking the night bus, know at what points in the hour it comes. This is especially important if you're in the middle of nowhere, alone and caught in the snow. Almost none of the rules in dorms (halls) actually apply. I should try harder to remember the difference between northern and southern accents. 'Estates' are housing projects. Don't offer a British person a lighter with a safety on it. They become annoyed. You can 'hire a mattress' for 1.50 should you ever need to stay on a friend's floor in another hall, because crashing on a bathroom rug with a sweater (jumper!) for a pillow is much too uncivilized. Everything comes with chips...everything. Stay away from Brown Sauce. Finally, if you go to the pub, you will never make it out.
Old people keep telling me that I'll 'take something away' from this experience, but as of yet the only thing I'm taking away are McDonald's chicken nuggets and brain cells.
London is fun.
Friday, 8 January 2010
Cheerio
Hello from London!
Since I've now been here for five days, I figured it was about time that I pulled the self-important study abroad move of getting a blog. So far London has been, as the Brits would say, above average. As some of you know, the incredibly incompetent (but, of course, exceedingly charming) King's College people never sent me the letter that I needed to cross the border, so I arrived with my knickers in a twist assuming imminent deportation. The verdict? Not a problem. After a little argument over the duration of my stay (according to him, January 4 to June 4 was somehow more than six months), he stamped my passport and advised me, for some reason, not to go home for Easter? Regardless, into the UK I came with a visa and 65 pounds (not the currency) of luggage.
After dropping my bags 483983 times and generally making a mess of myself on the tube for 45 minutes, I finally unpacked in my little room and napped...for twelve hours. Oops. On Tuesday, I went to this bizarre furniture store called Argos where, much to my surprise, you stand at a computer and flip through a catalog instead of actually shopping for things. Epic success, other than the fact that I got flustered when they asked me for ID to buy a 'place setting'. Apparently people under 18 are much more likely to stab strangers with dinner knives.
On Wednesday, we had orientation, which basically consisted of walking across the bridge in a snowstorm and standing in endless lines that resulted in nothing except for internet access. I did, however, get my KCL ID, which is not nearly as atrocious as ID pictures I've had in the past (NYU card, I'm looking at you). There was a meeting where several different people from the school talked at us, and I learned my favorite word of the week: tatty, as in "if you want to see what this building looked like before it was renovated, go up to the 4th floor and see how tatty those rooms are". Awesome. Lots of jokes were made about how drunk everyone is all the time. Ashleigh and I got assaulted by a strange man selling flowers, and then I finally learned how to Skype.
I went out yesterday night and realized that there are annoying things I don't know about London, like whether or not people tip here. I'm so used to tipping anyone who does anything, but the people around us didn't seem to be doing it at all. I got a UK cell phone, so I'm no longer wandering around the streets of London wondering what people did before they had them (conclusion: before they could text, people must have actually been reliable).
Finally, things are expensive here, but not as expensive as I thought they would be. I still don't know my address. I have roommates, but I only creepily hear them coming in at 2 a.m., so I haven't introduced myself yet. When in the UK, don't forget to dial the 0. When faced with tiny bathrooms, do not under any circumstances actually look at your face in the mirror while showering. Weird. 'Cheers for that' is the best version of 'thank you' ever. I need to get my saying of 'a bit', 'perhaps' and 'I suppose' under control ASAP, otherwise I'll sound like a douche when I get back to the States.
Flushin' MCs Down the Loo.
Since I've now been here for five days, I figured it was about time that I pulled the self-important study abroad move of getting a blog. So far London has been, as the Brits would say, above average. As some of you know, the incredibly incompetent (but, of course, exceedingly charming) King's College people never sent me the letter that I needed to cross the border, so I arrived with my knickers in a twist assuming imminent deportation. The verdict? Not a problem. After a little argument over the duration of my stay (according to him, January 4 to June 4 was somehow more than six months), he stamped my passport and advised me, for some reason, not to go home for Easter? Regardless, into the UK I came with a visa and 65 pounds (not the currency) of luggage.
After dropping my bags 483983 times and generally making a mess of myself on the tube for 45 minutes, I finally unpacked in my little room and napped...for twelve hours. Oops. On Tuesday, I went to this bizarre furniture store called Argos where, much to my surprise, you stand at a computer and flip through a catalog instead of actually shopping for things. Epic success, other than the fact that I got flustered when they asked me for ID to buy a 'place setting'. Apparently people under 18 are much more likely to stab strangers with dinner knives.
On Wednesday, we had orientation, which basically consisted of walking across the bridge in a snowstorm and standing in endless lines that resulted in nothing except for internet access. I did, however, get my KCL ID, which is not nearly as atrocious as ID pictures I've had in the past (NYU card, I'm looking at you). There was a meeting where several different people from the school talked at us, and I learned my favorite word of the week: tatty, as in "if you want to see what this building looked like before it was renovated, go up to the 4th floor and see how tatty those rooms are". Awesome. Lots of jokes were made about how drunk everyone is all the time. Ashleigh and I got assaulted by a strange man selling flowers, and then I finally learned how to Skype.
I went out yesterday night and realized that there are annoying things I don't know about London, like whether or not people tip here. I'm so used to tipping anyone who does anything, but the people around us didn't seem to be doing it at all. I got a UK cell phone, so I'm no longer wandering around the streets of London wondering what people did before they had them (conclusion: before they could text, people must have actually been reliable).
Finally, things are expensive here, but not as expensive as I thought they would be. I still don't know my address. I have roommates, but I only creepily hear them coming in at 2 a.m., so I haven't introduced myself yet. When in the UK, don't forget to dial the 0. When faced with tiny bathrooms, do not under any circumstances actually look at your face in the mirror while showering. Weird. 'Cheers for that' is the best version of 'thank you' ever. I need to get my saying of 'a bit', 'perhaps' and 'I suppose' under control ASAP, otherwise I'll sound like a douche when I get back to the States.
Flushin' MCs Down the Loo.
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