From Paris With Love

Since coming back from Paris everyone seems especially interested in this trip and my thoughts on it. Let me just say, I don’t want my personal opinion(s) to deter anyone who hasn’t and really wants to visit this beautiful country but to sum it up in one word Paris was… eh. Yeah I’m rather shocked by this conclusion myself but every country has its positives and negatives for everyone. Now keep in mind I only had time to really visit Paris itself so this is more of a reflection on the city then it is on the entire country. Arriving in the city and seeing how old the city truly is, I was amazed but the buildings aren’t that tall and they seem to look like replicas of each other. I can see where our founding fathers came up with the architectural designs when building some of the famous monuments around our country’s capital. 

There is a language barrier and the French are VERY particular about the use of their language. Even if you just know a few words, that’s better than no words. Use them. In fact, use them as much as possible. As long as you are attempting to try the French will respect you, but if you refuse then good luck. Some friends have asked me about the people and the city’s attitude towards Americans, however, I think people are being too specific when they ask about just one nationality. I think it’s a tourist thing overall. I grew up in tourist city and it drove me nuts when people would stop me and ask questions so I can see where some French individuals have short tempers when it comes to this. A few girls even learned it’s usually best to ask at least two people for directions instead of one. Some locals can’t stand tourist and they will tell you to walk in the wrong direction. I remember that joke as a teenager well. The best way to put it is, if you’re planning a trip with family or friends to visit what some call the city of love… handle the people with kid gloves. Don’t take it personal when they turn into a teenage girl on a hormonal roller coaster with patience the span of 10 seconds or less. It’s not you, its honestly them. 

Which brings me to the next thing… the city of love? Really? I don’t see it. Yes the city is nice, the streets are relatively clean but aside from the Eiffel Tower I don’t see the city of love anywhere in those 33.5 square miles. I see persecution from centuries of the church, I see people that can’t be bothered but will take your last dollar for a souvenir keychain to say you’ve been to Paris and the pick-pocketers LOVE tourists. One girl on our tour learned this when her entire wallet and passport was stolen while visiting Norte Dame (Paris rule #1, NEVER take anything of importance when visiting this beautiful church as it’s the number one place for thieves. Better yet... just leave the valuables locked in the hotel safe for the duration of your entire trip). Don’t get me wrong, I liked some things I experienced. For one, the food is fantastic! I don’t think its as good as the food in Italy but I will have a comparison for you on that by next summer. However, it’s definitely better than British food (sorry friends but it’s true). Fair warning though, the French LOVE their carbs, so unless you are dying for thick semi-hard bread at every meal then I suggest you visit the local market for some good substitutes. Another exciting thing was walking around the city and experiencing different pieces of history.

My absolute favorite thing about the city though was the area behind Moulin Rouge. Silly sounding I know but as you walk to the Basilique du Sacré-Cœur de Montmartre you walk through where artist used to live one hundred, even two hundred years ago. Maybe further back in time as well. The buildings are beautiful with their cream and peach colors yet untouched by time because most are not allowed to be updated with things like elevators. Yes that can get annoying if you live on the 5th floor or god forbid the penthouse but to those who would complain I would say, you don’t hear the people living in New York complaining, do you? Seriously though, the interior of some of these buildings have barely been touched with time because the government won’t allow to many changes to occur. There are hills (something you don’t find throughout Paris very much) small parks, stone streets as well as single film cinema houses. In a way it’s like stepping back in time into nothing American’s have truly experienced because our history is so limited in the time span of history itself. 

Overall, the city is pretty as it does have something to offer those who have never been but I think after maybe one or two more visits sometime in my life that I would be ok with never returning. Nothing there, other than the area surrounding Montmartre truly swept me off my feet. However, the Netherlands… now there’s a place I am in love with. What can I say, I’m an architecture geek at heart. 

The Musée du Louvre Defines Gravity aka Paris the 1st Evening...

The first time you visit a new place you can't help but take in the scenery and Paris is no exception. We started our journey from London to Paris before the sun decided to show itself and after two exciting hours on the Eurostar we arrived. As we drive through the city you begin to notice such amazing places as the Arc de Triomphe and Les Invalides, not to forget all the fashion shopping ones credit card or bank account can handle on the famous Avenue des Champs-Élysées. After arriving at the hotel and relaxing for a bit we were off on our first trip thanks to the metro (France's idea of the tube or subway). Our destination, the Musée du Louvre or The Louvre as it's known to tourist.

To give you a bit of history about this landmark its one of the world's largest museums and a historic monument. The museum is housed in the Palais du Louvre, originally built as a fortress in the late 12th century under Philip II. Remnants of the fortress are visible in the basement of the museum. The building was extended many times to form the present Louvre Palace. In 1682, Louis XIV chose the Palace of Versailles for his household, leaving the Louvre primarily as a place to display the royal collection. (Thanks Wikipedia! ^_~)

I wanted to see the wing where Mona Lisa herself is housed. I knew around this one oil on poplar DeVinci piece would hold hundreds of other beauty's... I was not disappointed. Others included Louis XIV and Liberty Leading the People. At one point we found ourselves in the Egyptian area of the wing and as I knew I would quite enjoy myself, however, I didn't expect to be in awe of these timeless artifacts.  Most noted were the dozen or so mummy coffins that were on display. Beautiful drawings of color and design on each internal and external box. The one thing that stuck out the most were the oil stains against the inner backing of the coffins. Hundreds of thousand of years after being laid to rest inside these boxes you can still see the remains of the individual by the oils that leaked thru their dressings and found a home on the surface of the wood in which they laid.

As history would have it, 17 years ago my humorously mocking husband-to-be was in the same museum looking at many of the same art pieces, including Venus de Milo. Somewhere there is a famous amongst friends photo of the man I am to marry in the upcoming months pointing at something only found to be funny to himself. Well when I visited this famous sculpture I had no choice but to take a photo in reminder of Tony's humor. He was not disappointed.

The best part of the evening came when we decided to leave. I was already suffering from a back injury I had sustained early in the week at the gym and truth be told had decided I would crawl my way thru Paris if I had to because my money for the trip could not be refunded. Thankfully the awesome doctors in London gave me some decent meds to get me by and I was feeling a bit better by the time we arrived in Paris. Anyways… as we left the museum while walking down the marble steps (do you see where this is going yet?) I somehow slipped on some dust and fell flat on my not so squishy anymore butt. I couldn’t help but laugh because we were still at the top of the staircase and there were plenty of people to stop and look. Poor Catherine… she had a classic ‘OMG I broke it!!’ look on her face. What’s even funnier… by the time we got to the bottom of the stairs the security guard was complimenting me on my landing. I could only smile and say ‘merci’ because I knew at that point all I could do was smile. As for my back? It felt so much better the entire rest of the trip. ;)

Dear Journalist . . . Know Your Laws

There is no written rule that says you can’t come to the Britain and work as a journalist but there is a rule, at least at the University of London that says if you’re going to study to be a journalist as a graduate student you must pass their media law exam. Let’s get to the shock value of such a course…. in the fall semester you meet every week for 2 hours and listen to the instructor compare U.K. media laws to U.S. media laws (and let me just tell you now, our laws are SOOOOO much better!). You are asked to keep up with the three textbooks reading the instructor has given you just for this one semester. I’m not going to lie… by week 5 my brain was fried and by the end of the semester I was lucky if my brain wasn’t oozing out of my ears. Anyways, back to the shock value. You read, you have a hard time understanding the british laws because some of them are very stone age. For example they only started allowing request for open records in the beginning of the 21st century, and after your weeks of constant studying for this course and others you have holiday. You get to go home for Christmas and New Years and spend time not thinking about media law. Well not so fast. You still have a pocketbook you have to read and keep up your knowledge as best as possible. Then you return to university refreshed, ready to take on the media law world and then you’re right back in the same lecture hall, with the same instructor, and now you have five weeks to memorize nearly 200 pages of laws and counter laws as well as your rights before exam time. And it’s not just any exam. Weeks before you actually test you receive an official document in the mail specifying exactly what items you are to bring with you, where these items are to go on your desk while in the exam room, what type of pens you are allowed to have and the list goes on and on. It feels as if you’re getting ready to take the bar for the first time. If you fail this “test” you mine as well set up shop on the university grounds for the next year as you will be spending yet another fall semester at the school while everyone else is done and preparing for graduation and you wait for an official test date to re-take your exam.

Let me tell you now, the worst part about taking this exam is the date they decide to give it which is right smack in the middle of your one week off from school in the middle of the semester. It’s called “reading week” but it’s more like spring break. While all your friends are out enjoying themselves in Brighton (the beach) or Paris you are in the same spot reading and attempting to memorize laws that you think a lawyer should be paid to know. Then the day of the exam comes and you think to yourself ‘I can’t possibly remember ANY of this!! I’m doomed.’ Your nerves get the best of you while you pray to just survive the three hours of long sentence writing you’re about to do.

The exam is exhausting while the only thing you obsess about afterwards is that one (or two, or three) question you got wrong or didn’t answer completely. It took me 3 days to feel the weight lifted off my shoulders while I can’t help but wait impatiently for my grade to be returned to me. If there is one thing this exam has taught me, it’s i’ll take U.S. 1st Amendment laws to journalist any time, any day.

Amsterdam... Welcome to The Show

Amsterdam… its Europe’s version of Vegas. There’s no sugar coating it and nothing is surprising. “Coffee shops” are on every corner. Of course you can get a cup of java in these locations but you can also enjoy some good vibrations while watching other tourists wondering down alley ways and stone streets.

I had the pleasure of spending a few days in this part of Europe. Upon arriving at our hotel after a day of traveling a schoolmate and myself had just enough time to attempt at making ourselves up and run to the closest train station, as we had reservations at one of the cities most known hidden clubs. Luckily our hotel was just down the street from a train station and there was no shortage of running while praying we hit the platform before the train doors closed. With success we barely made the train and after being on for a few moments realize the obvious; It was the wrong train. Crap! And to make matters worse, neither of us speaks Dutch and nothing is in English. Have I mentioned yet that our phones were pretty much useless as there was no internet connection and neither of us had the chance yet to buy a Netherlands SIM card? Yep… this trip was going to be a lot of fun ;)

We hopped off the train and caught the next train thinking ‘Ok now we’re good!’ Yeah… not really. After about 10 minutes we checked our GPS that was somehow still operating only to realize we’re on the right number train but going in the wrong direction. FUCK! Really!?!!?!? Ugh. Now, third times a charm! Right train, right direction and we’re 30 minutes late for our reservation. Oops. Well it was bound to happen sometime during the evening.

We made it to the marketplace and start our way to the Red Light District and it hits me, I’m completely under the spell of the city. Even at night photos do not do this centuries old city justice. The building are captivating with the leaning structures and artistic sculptures that tell generations of history. I’m sure Katie was laughing at me walking around the city with my jaw on the ground. Red Light District is literally that… prostitution everywhere you look and I’m just going to say it, some of the girls are drop dead gorgeous. Sorry but just like in the champagne room there are no photos allowed even from the street unless you want to dare getting your butt kicked all the way to Poland. Therefore I have no way of proving this piece of truth.

If you’ve ever been to Amsterdam, you know the alley’s are misleading. You think there’s nothing down the nicely lit back streets but after walking in circles (literally) for another 20 minutes while making jokes that we were looking for a hidden door we finally gave up and asked someone. Little did we know we were right. The door to the club was nicely constructed within the building wall with a TINY little note that says “congratulations you found us! Now ring the bell to get lost in Wonderland.” The moment you stepped into the club itself your world is completely transformed. Anything goes. Rules were an idea for reality and reality didn’t exist here.

From the beds with what looked like short brunch tables on the sides of the club both upstairs and downstairs to the dance floor in the front of the massive room, then the 5 course, 5-star meal you made the reservations to attend your mind is blown. Between each meal is a fantasy/fetish show i.e., five meals and five shows.  It was truly a night to remember and not just thanks to the AMAZING food and show! The entire experience was definitely an Alice in Wonderland experience. After dinner the club ignited with main floor dancing and below grounds bar/dancing.

Once fatigue started to catch up with us, we realized sleep was a must. Leaving the club was like experiencing your 15 minutes of fame within a few moments. People attempting to get in was insane. There had to be at least 75-100 people surrounding the entrance with security holding as many of them back as possible and you… well you had to attempted to get out the door and passed the Amsterdam hungry Friday night party goers. One thing that I’m not a fan of is the lack of public transportation on a weekend in any major party city. Thank goodness for taxis or else I think we would have just slept in the middle of the city.

Wait... is This London or Atlanta?

Vacation or as they so awesomely call it in Europe holiday, is a time to enjoy the fact that one does not have classes nor any type of obligation outside of waking up past noon on any given day and staying out til the sun rises. However, when you’re in a masters program in Europe you still have homework. Or worse yet, final papers. Yes universities are asking students to complete 5,000, 8,000 and even 10,000 word documents right after new years. I personally made it a point to complete my assignments before leaving for said holiday as I knew (and was right) I wouldn’t get any work done during break.

Before I left for England in September my very slick soon-to-be hubby warned me that upon my return to the states I could find myself having a difficult time readapting to life. Allow me to explain… many many moons ago my hunny served in the U.S. Armed Forces. He was stationed in South Korea and Germany for a total of four years therefore his experiences with returning to states was/is very familiar, especially after being away for large periods of time. Now, I being the woman I am thought to myself, oh that was just him; I won’t be like that. Oh boy… how I was wrong (yes, you just read that right). December 12th came around and I was ecstatic to come home. I missed my guy, our friends, our little ones and most of all my job! There’s no going around it, I was BEYOND HAPPY to be returning to work. Just don’t tell my boss. ;)  From the moment I arrived I wondered if and how I would notice little differences and out of the blue I was metaphorically smacked upside the head. From the simplest things like taking the escalator (hello! People really should stand on the right so those who want to go around you can on the left!) to going through customs. I’m learning if you’re an American rules really don’t apply to you.

From the way people acted to driving on the right side of the street or even driving on an interstate I realized I had spent the last few months being fully engulfed in a different culture and I MISSED that culture. I’ve become so use to public transportation and 19 roommates that readjusting myself was not only going to take some time but effort on my part. The best way to describe it, its as if I was in one reality, pulled into another and as soon as I started to adapt and become truly comfortable I was taken out of that reality and put back into my old one. While I was home it dawned on me, this IS my life… our life since I share my life with my fiancé, and truth be told but I’m not completely happy with that life nor the one I live in England. I’ve had time to sit and think about what comes next. What changes I can make both for my future and my families.

It’s now January and I’m back in the U.K. for spring term. I’m not going to lie I’ve missed some items from the states and I made it a point to return with some said items. For example, macaroni and cheese (my favorite guilty pleasure), a rather large jar of Jif Peanut Butter and popcorn. Yes I said popcorn. It really is the simple things in life that make me the most happiest and right now its popcorn for those movie nights with friends.

As Buzz Lightyear would say, “to this year and beyond!” Ok, that’s not right but it is a new year and I plan on making it a good year no matter how many times I’m dropped from my England reality to my U.S. one.

Missing The Scene of Direction

So it finally happen… I got on to the wrong train. It took me nearly three months to do and while a 16 pound turkey was on my back. Well in my backpack but STILL. Haha. :P

I had to travel more than an hour to Kensington to the closet Whole Foods for the thanksgiving bird and on the way back I went in the wrong direction. It only took me two stops to figure it out but the epiphany was humorous all on its own. As I was on the near empty train I began to notice more trees and less buildings. Immediately I looked out the window to see I was heading into the country side of London. Ok, well maybe not country as some of my southern friends would picture in their minds but it was definitely out of the city. 

I jumped off the train only to find out in order to get onto the other side of the tracks I had to swipe my payment card to exit then swipe my card again to gain entrance for the same tracks going in the opposite direction. Oops.

The trip back home took me nearly two hours thanks to the weekend track maintenance. For those who decide to come to London I say familiar yourself with the transportation system as soon as you can (the map of the Over/Under Ground and National Rail below) and if you still get lost, make a day of it. Have some fun, just without the turkey on your back. ^_~

For those who want to come here and drive on the wrong side of the road I say fly into one of the smaller airports outside of the city and then go crazy. Otherwise you will never want to drive in the U.K. ever again (they’re crazy!!). Better yet, you too should get familiar with the transportation map(s). You never know when you’ll be traumatized by their “driving” style. 

See. I told you it was funny. 

An English Thanksgiving

Thursday was Thanksgiving and as many know, it’s only celebrated in the U.S. but just because it’s an American holiday doesn’t mean you can’t celebrate it no matter where you are in the world. This year because I was away from home (obviously) I decided to celebrate it with new friends, my course mate family, and flatmates. Those of us in the TVJ program had filming on the actual holiday therefore Wednesday was the night! I left classes early, started on the bird and american goodies of side dishes.

I was extremely nervous because it was my first time ever being in charge of the special day. Not to mention explaining the holiday to friends who have never heard of it. “Well… see there were these indians…. no wait…. it’s about being thankful…. yeah, yeah, that’s it. It’s about being thankful.” It was rather difficult but I was able to make stuffing from scratch (I still think Stove Top stuffing is WAY better), sweet potatoes with marshmallows, garlic roasted mashed potatoes, and bourbon gravy. Yes that’s right, I just type bourbon gravy. Each of the recipes I found were thanks to Martha Stewart but I will admit, she’s not the best cook out there. At least recipe wise.

We had around 20 people packed into a kitchen designed for 10, many from other countries including Canada, Germany, France, Greece, Italy, Pakistan, Egypt, China, Nigeria, India, even Argentina. Everyone brought something whether it was a dish from their own country, a bottle of wine or dessert. Many laughs were had, Christmas music played and there were no leftovers to speak of. 

Thank you to everyone who came. It really brought a little bit of home to London. 

I think for my first solo Thanksgiving with friends we rocked it. I don’t know how I’m going to top this next year. :)

Pub Food . . . Yes or No?

I feel like I am in a constant episode of HIMYM sometimes as there are a number of great pubs within steps of my flat but I continue to go to my favorite, the Old Haberdasher. Recently, I found myself enjoying a pint with friends when the realization of hunger came over us. Upon my viewing of the usual “bar food” I found they have nachos. Looking at what was included (guacamole, salsa, sour cream and jalapeños) I thought to myself ‘how bad could this be? I mean they’re nachos.’ Ordering of the bar goodies was made and food was delivered to our table. Do you see where this is going yet? And no, it’s not in a good direction.

Everyone knows I am from San Diego and I will admit, I have been spoiled with GREAT Mexican cuisines including carne asada burritos, tamales, enchiladas, homemade salsas and most of all yummy guacamole and in the end all I can say is...

Dear Britain,

I understand you like to think some of your foods are edible but in the end putting ketchup in what you think is salsa is a cardinal sin. Please stop torturing ketchup in such a manner. There are no words to describe just how disgusting this truly is. Oh and your peanut butter is horrible as well.

Sincerely,

Breanne

Other foods that I highly recommend any visitor to Britain stay away from:

Onion rings -They don’t use real onions. (Do wha!?!?!?!? I know my mind was blown as well)

Peanut butter -Its more like oil butter with a hint of peanuts added in.

Coffee from Costa -Coffee is not meant to be burned. Where ever you got this idea, FORGET IT!

Any type of Mexican food dishes -You’re Britain, not Latin America. While we thank you for trying, please just give up and stick to your fish and chips, thanks.

Cheese -Just trust me… it’s not what you think.

Now I’m sure one day this will change, but for now I felt so bad for my friends that I decided to make homemade salsa and guacamole for them to enjoy. I mean no one should have to endure such horrors as ketchup in ’salsa’. Yuck.

Print vs TV -Round 1

There is this underlying animosity amongst the journalism students and TV journalism students. Today, I think I figured out what it is... they're douches. When I started at Goldsmiths the gossip around the various journalism courses was TV and (print) Journalism did not get along. I being the open minded individual that I am ;) allowed this to go in one ear and out the other. Well it’s six weeks in and I have to admit, those rumors aren’t too off.

Could it be that radio and television just get to have more fun? I mean think about it... we’re the ones running around, going out getting the stories, watching the action happen live good and bad. We are as they say ’in the trenches’ but Journalism. . . well so far I’ve noticed they sit in a room all day long and talk about us while writing stories for a “news” website dedicated to what is going on in the boroughs surrounding our university.

Now don’t get me wrong... journalistic writing is NOT easy by any means. I continue to work to perfect my writing everyday but there are those times when as a TV journalist you can’t help but want to take one of those journalist out of their comfy little cubicle and away from their little computer with all the knowledge they hold dear, throw bags upon bags of gear at them then send them out into the freezing cold or the blistering heat while saying “now go get the story and don’t come back until you have every piece of it!” I don’t really think they would make it. If they didn’t drop dead from carrying the weight of the equipment to and from the tube, when they returned to find out they are the only one to edit their work, I think they would understand TV journalist are not lazy nor do they have it easy by any means. 

So, to my future journalist of all mediums I say this: in the end the littlest things matter. Like not pissing off your cameraman or getting the date of an announcement correct. Because one day you might have to do my job, which lets be honest, is f’ing hard.

You, Me and The N.H.S. Makes Three!

Well it's happen… about two weeks ago I ran out of the vitamins I take daily to keep me from getting ill and I woke up yesterday feeling like crud. I told myself no big deal, thinking I was just run down but this morning I woke up feeling like death. I ditched my morning class (bad girl I know) and made my lost way to the closest walk-in GP Centre which is only a few blocks away. For those who don't know what a GP is, it's a general practitioner. He or she is the doctor you go see when you are worried you have the flu.

The whole thing took nearly three hours. Yes, I said 3! But you have to figure you're walking into one of the busiest clinics in all of New Cross that aids in seeing those from Lewisham as well. Even though I felt like hell there was a cute little asian baby keeping me entertained for I didn't think about bringing any kind of reading material with me. Oops! My doctor was fantastic. She took into account my health history which is pretty important for a person with nearly no immune system. I was happy to hear I didn't require antibiotics for my symptoms. For I had caught my illness in it's infant stages.  However I was still given some medications. Three prescriptions for a total of £14.00 and no cost to see the doctor I was set on my way to school.

I have to say thank goodness I'm here in the U.K. studying for this would not have been an option in the states. I'm already feeling a tiny bit better but tonight I'm following doctor's orders with eating ice cream, drinking warm tea and watching Nurse Jackie. Studying can wait til tomorrow. Tonight, it's all about me and my monkey beanie.

The Pressure is On... Welcome to Your Masters Degree

Well the first official week of classes has come and gone and I have to say for studying Television Journalism, this is NOT what I signed up for. And I'm beyond excited! Many know I grew up singing competitively and according to my parents, I've always had an eye for the creative side of life. Never did I think being a journalist and a musician would coincide with each other. As a student in the MA TV journalism program my primary studies consist of learning to use various cameras, numerous editing programs and most of all, thinking outside the box.

Americans watch between a one minute and a two minute, 30 second video on whatever is going on in the news. This is known as a news package. Of course this is apart of my studies but so is the following…. writing, directing and producing music videos, making 30 minute documentaries, creating several short form films AND being commissioned to work with several well known organizations throughout the world on upcoming conferences and celebrations. This includes the world food crisis seminar in the Netherlands and the 50th anniversary of the N.T. here in London. It's all quite interesting when there is more than one news organization interested in purchasing the finished product from a few students just working on their little ol' masters degree.

As for those who are curious about class size and courses taken well here's the truth, I have no say in my classes chosen or their times. I'm in one of the most rigorous majors within the university. That means I am taking 10 courses this term (or semester as some know it to be called), 9 courses in the spring and 1 in the summer. I have a portfolio of works due the end of the spring term, a short film and long documentary due at the end of the summer and my dissertation is due by the end of August. Ugh. Soooo much work but I think if we keep getting commissioned for shoots than it will be pretty easy to stock up on our best work.

Speaking of best of's…. this video has to be one of my favorites for the basics when it comes to video production. Keep in mind it's over 20 years old. But the song is a classic by one of my favorite artist. ENJOY! :)

Colds, Clothes and Cigarettes

To all my reading friends (and friends in real life) my apologizes now but this is more of a rant piece or an overview if you will. While Britain has many qualities there are a few that are disheartening. First, the streets are dirty. That's right, I said DIRTY! During a conversation last week at one of the local pubs one friend ask another why people find it is ok to throw their trash literally in the street. His response, which makes quite a lot of sense was, rubbish (that's trash in British) is highly regulated and people know there are jobs in Britain that include street sweepers and rubbish collectors that they know someone will always clean up after them. Now I'm not talking about trash collectors as in the ones we have in the U.S., I mean people who actually walk up and down the streets of London picking up trash for a living. You are required to recycle here and could be fined if you fail to do so. There are bins to separate plastics, paper, cans, etc. Now I know those in California know exactly what I'm talking about but those in places like Georgia have NO idea. It's rather sad really.

Colds…. When I say colds, I don't mean the weather or people being sick (well sorta), I mean the spreading of germs. People DO NOT cover their mouths when they cough! Ok, I could just be a germ freak, that part is true but when I am less than five feet from you I don't want you coughing your lung up and into the back of bloody head! Didn't your parents ever teach you to cover your mouth!?!?!?!?
Which leads me to the next thing…. Are you from the states and weigh more than 110 pounds wet? Well you're fat and get out of my way! It could just be me but I think the hallways are a little small and people here can't decide if they want to walk on the left or right side so they just bump into you or they get in front of you and slow down to a snail pace. Actually I think snails move faster.

And while I have no problems with smokers, I realized I do now. Maybe I was naive about it in the states but I notice it quite a bit here. I'm cool if you're a smoker but I'm not a fan of it being blown in my face or smelling it every two feet within a five block radius. The one thing I find hilarious is the warning label on British cigarettes. Simply put, "Cigarettes kill." Well geez! Since you put it that way….

The last thing is fashion. Now I know I'm in one of the fashion capitals of the world but the 1980's called and girls, they want their high belly button jeans back. I'm really hoping this isn't the next fashion craze or that is completely misses the U.S. because I WILL laugh at my friends. Thank goodness the hair styles aren't coming back but wearing your jeans up to your chest with leggings underneath followed with low cut boots on your feet sure is. In fact I think the snap bracelets are back in style as well!

Hello, I'm a Tourist

I have yet to go out and experience Central London until today! Freshers week has been keeping me busy around the college and to be honest I am not a fan of the public transportation system yet. It looks REALLY confusing. So I waited until today. luckily an American married couple I made friends with were planning a trip as well to Buckingham Palace and a few museums in Kensington. Perfect! I purchased my first Oyster Card, which is a requirement for continuous travel throughout London and off we went. First stop, the Palace. If I had to describe it in one word it would be 'eh.' Yes I said eh. While it is big, it is very plain on the outside. Also I am convinced cameras make the outside of it look bigger although I am sure many would argue with me.

In the summer months (July thru September) you can purchase tickets to see certain rooms of the palace and we were lucky enough to see it the day before the summer run ends. Tickets were purchased then the tourism began. We had some time to kill so we joined the other worldly adventurers and took photos. Sadly we learned the changing of the guards was taking place at the same time as our tour through the palace so I already know I will have to return just to watch that.
The inside of the palace is beautiful, but for obvious reasons no photos allowed. I was most taken by the artwork in one of the halls. Centuries old and in amazing condition you could see works from the Renaissance period to the Baroque period and beyond.

Next stop was the Victoria and Albert Museum. Various time periods with clothing and original artworks from around Britain. The Natural History Museum and Science Museum also followed but our feet were beginning ache and our patience was growing thin. What do you do when this occurs? You find a good creamery! Ice cream for everyone!! Well at least for us. Having started our journey at 9am and ending after 5pm I would say it was a highly successful Saturday. Today, no workout was needed for I had gotten more cardio in than I expected. But… I'm still a wee bit confused by the trains, tubes, and underground. One of these days I will need to just get lost and find my way home.

Making Friends…

There is nothing like moving into your new flat, finding the closest Subway Restaurant, coming home with food after a draining flight, sweating your…. well you know off all day from lugging your only belongings around London, only to see a group of people standing in your flat foyer saying 'HEY! Let's go get a beer' and all you want to do is find your towel and shower. Do you respond with 'thanks but no thanks' and lose your chance to make new friends or do you say screw it and go? I went, but being honest, all I wanted to do was shower and change.

The great thing about going to a bar with people you don't know is by the end of the night you either like em' or hate em'. We all know this to be true, so don't judge me. The pub was fantastic reminding me a bit like the one in the BBC show Coupling. Ok, it wasn't as big but it was as nice. I quickly learned some of my flatmates are from various countries including Greece, Japan and Germany. I also learned we are all post grads. I don't know about you but I can only imagine how this will go when we all decide to party together.

But back to the pub…. friends were made, tap water was had (I hadn't converted any of my money yet, oops), conversation was great and laughs were had around the tables. I didn't make it long, as I had been awake for too many hours to count.

Shopping For The First Time... LOOK RIGHT!

When one arrives at university for the first time to live in what is "accommodation housing" you have no real idea what to expect. And when it comes to living in a foreign country for the first time and living in university housing you REALLY have no idea what to expect. Do you see where this is going yet?

I arrived hungry, tired, sweaty, and wishing for a bed, food and a shower all at the same time but first, I must figure out how to get into the gate that houses my flat. In Britain I have come to the conclusion they like their security. The city is constantly monitored by 24hour CCTV that police and security officials have constant access to (look Ma!! as you stagger home) and in order to get through the gate of my housing area you must have a code. Luckily the university was nice enough to supply me with one. Next you arrive at the front door of your flat and it's locked with the only access being a keypad that must be scanned (paranoid much??). White keycard? Scanned and access granted. By now I feel like I am in a game of Super Mario Bros. (someone save the princess!!). As soon as you're able to get INTO the flat you see a long hallway with nothing on the floor level and then…. stairs. Not just stairs, LOTS of stairs. There are 20 rooms in my flat and five floors. I am on the third floor, ugh!

To make a long story, well even longer I finally get into my room (which also has a key lock btw so that makes it THREE separate keys that are needed to get to your bed) and the room is so bare the only thing missing is padded walls. Ok, ok, it's not THAT bad but it might as well be. You quickly realize instead of laying down and taking a nap you must go shopping for you have no hangers, hand soap or (GASP!!!) bed sheets of any kind. So you drop your crap and venture out into the busy streets of New Cross, London.

Leaving the flat is easy (whoda thunk it!) and the closest actual grocery store is Sainsbury's about three blocks away. As an American let me just say this now, THANK YOU!!! Connie for telling me it is important to look right first when crossing the street. Although in the end it didn't keep me from almost getting run over at least twice. ;) The best way to explain Sainbury's is to call it a smaller version of Wally's World (Walmart). However I think I arrived late because most of the bedding for single beds was gone except of course for the more expensive stuff. Luckily I was able to find some deals, buy some food… and when I say food I mean fruits, veggies, a bag snacks because I am still waiting on my order of pots, pans and dishes to arrive. The checkout girl was rather annoyed by my credit card as well…. how dare she have to physically swipe my card. It's ok though. As soon as she saw my drivers license she became nice and realized I was an American.

Now I will admit this now, I was spoiled with having a car in the states. I didn't realize how lazy I had become until I had 6 large bags to carry back to my flat, and dare I say my room! I think the only thing worse is the fact that our kitchens are on the 5th floor. Yes the very top. The only thing I can think is, well I did plan on continuing my weight loss regiment while overseas and now with no car, lots of walking and a kitchen on the 5th floor I think I will accomplish said goal.

An American in London

My bags were packed, my suitcase filled to the rim and I was off to London with the help of my awesome hunny. One year away from him is going to be difficult but not impossible.

Anyways, back to the nit and gritty…. If you have ever flown overseas you know first hand the aircrafts are huge and the passengers even bigger. I think you could fit more in a sardine can if you really tried. As you enter the plane you see all the first class lucky dogs who have their own space with barriers from their neighbors with chairs that turn into beds. I, being a cheap student had to keep walking. I finally found my seat towards the end of the plane with a window seat. SCORE! One would think, but once again I was wrong. I had to be the smallest person on my side of the plane with a very foreign couple sitting next to me. Eight hours on a plane, in a space smaller than a width of a single bed on an overnight flight with two screaming babies made for an interesting trip. I had to promise myself I wouldn't get up unless absolutely necessary.  EAK!

Anyone who knows me, knows I HATE flying. It's not the whole take off and landing as much as its the idea of plummeting to my death because of that awesome thing called gravity and I can't forget it's partner turbulence. About two hours into the flight (and right when dinner was served) it hit… turbulence. We're talkin' the type that hits so hard and continuously that you pray to every god man ever created and even the ones he didn't. I was so not in the mood to eat once this started.

A few hours later and as much sleep as I could get sitting upright I was at Heathrow airport. I tried to get a good look at London while still in the air but as per usual the fog was working against me.
I made one mistake once I arrived and was able to walk around…. I got into the wrong immigration line. Whoops! I'm sure it will be the first of many times I will go the wrong way while living here, lol. After waiting in one line, realizing I needed to be in another, I finally had my turn in front of the immigration officer who, I'm just going to be really honest, was beyond nice. I had more documents than I needed with me because I wasn't sure what all they were going to ask for, and a few minutes later my visa was stamped and I officially entered the U.K.

Now one thing I will suggest is be selective in the items you bring with you when traveling. I'm sure my CNN Radio friends will laugh at me over this one but after packing, cutting out some of my items and packing again I still BARELY passed the required weight of my army bag that housed all my clothes. 51 pounds is the max allowed, I packed 49. heehee. Not to mention I carried a backpack full of electronics (computer, iPad and accessories) but then I also had a small red suitcase. Lugging all this around Heathrow was a NIGHTMARE!! Never again! I mean it when I say, pack light. Take items like underwear and your favorite shampoo. Some clothes for three days and two pairs of shoes. Other than that, buy it when you get there. Buy it cheap so if you don't want to keep it you can give the items aways with not caring how much you spent.

Thank goodness I didn't have to take public transportation to the university for London's public transportation is confusing enough.