This is the Part of a TV Show Where it's Simply a Filler Episode to Toy with the Audience

You guys.  Check out my new teapot:

It was seven pounds

At a thrift store

How.  Cool.

And, yeah, I've got Tina Fey glasses.  They're more awesome than my sister's librarian glasses that she got to copy off of me.  Oh, I went there (love you sis).

Cheers!

The Saga of Locating Jane Austen's House: Part II

And everyone thought I was going to post about Ireland, but HAH!  I'm just like a bad TV show on the CW, you all will just have to wait.

Waking up in London is possibly the greatest feeling I've had.  The first few seconds pertain to you realizing you are in a hostel bed that resembles a sleeping pod from some cheesy sci-fi film, but the seconds following it are more like: "Wow, I'm in London, England."

Neither of us had much confidence in this adventure to Jane's house, especially after getting to the train station and figuring out that to get to Alton (where her house is), it is an hour and a half train ride.  But we get to Alton.  Oh boy, do we get to Alton.

Reads: "A family lives here, please don't break our windows" Alton made me feel like I was going to get mugged at any second.

Oh, yeah, I was totally going to go into the sketchy alleyway with the murderous looking garage, thanks for the sign, dude!

Yes, we passed these things, and yes, we were terrified.  Halfway through the town, we were guilted into having lunch at a restaurant that resembled my Great Aunt Jo's condo in Florida.  Full of trinkets, cat figurines, and pictures of old ladies.  However, we did get directions to the real house.

Directions that led us down a sidewalkless highway:

Just in case I wasn't going to be shot in Alton, I can now become roadkill on the highway!

Cars and motorbikes zoomed past us at sixty mph, but we were determined.  Finally, we get to Chawton, the ACTUAL town that her house is in.  A beautiful, southern England town that was what I had exactly pictured this county to look like.  Thatched roofs, cobblestone streets, perfectly trimmed hedges, and horse farms with horses wearing adorable blankets.

Totally worth the eight near death experiences, now everyone be jealous please

The house was amazing.  It was worth all of the trials and tribulations.  I saw her writing desk where she edited Pride and Prejudice, Northanger Abby, and Sense and Sensibility, and she lived in this house with her sister and mother towards the end of her life.  I also was able to see all of the costumes that the actors wore in the film renditions of most all of the movies!

Afterwards, we went down we went to go see the church she and her mother and sister went to, and it is were Mrs. Austen and Jane's sister is buried (Jane's tomb is in Winchester and was not buried with her mother and sister at this church unfortunately).

This is the giant house that the Austen women often went to visit a family friend.  It was bought and filled with historical furniture but was closed during this hour of the day.

Uh, Jane Austen went here, NO BIG DEAL

Cassandra (Jane's sister) and Mrs. Austen's graves

Completely satisfied with our author-stalking, we ended up home around ten or eleven.  It was one of those trips were it's "all about the story" (as some of my other Wooster friends have already figured out), but it ended up to be in my top three adventures.

When I got home, it was Sunday, and The Boyfriend was coming on Tuesday, so now that I'm all caught up I suppose I can write about our Ireland trip.

...Or my awesome new teapot I bought for seven pounds (yeah, I can write a whole blog post about that).

Just kidding.

Cheers!

Technically, Google Maps Don't Lie

Quite a bit of adventures have taken place, and I swear it that I shall write all of them down for my adoring fans (hah).

Opening on an early morning in Lancaster, bus stop.  The day is November 19, 2011 and the air is cold and unforgiving.  Enter: Annie and Caitlin, two Americans with one simple goal: author-stalking.  No, EXTREME author-stalking.
Basically, Caitlin and I went to London for round II.  It's my brilliant idea to catch the bus early but we ended up waiting thirty minutes in the freezing morning air. 

Two and a half hours later, we step off the train and into LONDON, the greatest city in the world (next to Edinburgh).  Then, it's off to the home of one of stars of British Romanticism poetry: John Keats.

The house was very intriguing.  Keats' didn't have any surviving family members through most of his young life so whatever was left of his legacy remains in this quaint house.  Like copies of his death mask.  Gross.

Then, we decide to step it up to the biggest celebrity of the Romanticism period: JANE AUSTEN.  And hold on, because this story gets pretty wild.

THE SAGA OF LOCATING JANE AUSTEN'S HOUSE: PART I

Spirits high and still full from lunch at an adorable cafe in Keats' hometown, Caitlin and I set onward to find the Austen House, located in Winchester, London.  A thirty minute ride on the tube later, (with an immense amount of changes, thank you) we arrive in Winchester.  We walk around, searching high and low, pretty lost, trying to find Jane's house.  The map gets us back on track and leads us into a newly developed area.  Finally, we ask for directions.

Us: "Excuse me, can you tell us where Jane Austen's house is?"
Girl: clueless "Jane...Austen?"
Us: exchange of mortified glances
Girl: "There's a listing of all the houses over there, sorry I can't help"

Wait.  What?  We look around.  The freshly built apartment buildings have signs that read: Keats' house ("What?  We were just there!  These are apartments!"), Shelley's house, and other glorified writers of the Romanticism period, tacked up on cheesy signs against the white walls of the complex.
Oh, god.  We have directions to an apartment projects area!

Yes, the apartments that stood before us were probably built in 2008, rented out on the cheap, and named after famous writers.  Jane Austen's house in Winchester isn't her real house, in fact, the only thing that remains in Winchester of Jane's are the "supposed" area where she stayed when she was extremely ill and her final resting place.

Determined not to waste the rest of the day, we hit up the touristy landmarks.  I'm sure as you all have expected from a blog called "The England Traveler", here's Big Ben:

The London Eye at night

Then, we decided to go find the hostel because it gets depressingly black at 4-4:30 PM.  This is the next issue we run into: the Holland Park Hostel is IN the park, however, by the time we got there, the park was closed, thus we were wandering this new part of London for about an hour.

The creep-tastic street we had to walk on to get to the youth hostel

We FINALLY found it after hiking through the narrow park-streets for forever.  After dropping off all of our heavy bags, we got onto the tube and went to Queensway, which is were both of us had orientation.  It was strange to be back and to actually know where everything was.  Exhausted, we hit the hay early, with great intentions of actually finding Austen's REAL house the next day.

Stay tuned, there's PART II to come!

Cheers (for now)!

Tyne Flies

I just realized something...in exactly one month, I'm being put on a plane back to the States.

I'm okay with that though, because December is Awesome month.  There's Christmabirthday (my birthday plus Christmas), New Year's Eve, and anniversary of one year where Boyfriend will get me a pony and a bouquet of kittens, AND Mom's going to have an advent calendar waiting for me so I can eat all the ones I missed on the 17th (cough cough, hint hint).

But anyway, yesterday I went to Newcastle.  I'm pretty sure this city forgot that it was a tourist attraction because the streets seriously lacked in signs.  However, they couldn't hide the awesome cathedrals or castles.  Now I am unsure of why people really need maps--hey, I didn't need one.

This is Black Gate and was built between 1247 and 1250.  It's the gatehouse to The Castle (literally just called The Castle) and even used to have a drawbridge where the footbridge is now standing.

Nearby, after you work your way around the maze of footbridges, is the actual Castle, which is the origin of Newcastle's name.

This ancient castle was founded in 1080, but then it was known as the Norman Castle.  After being destroyed, Henry II came into reign and it was rebuilt with new stone.  During the 18th and 19th century, it was used as a prison.

What I wanted most from Newcastle was obviously the Newcastle brewery, but unfortunately, it moved (sorry Stefan!)  But the Tyne bridges made up for it:

And St. Nicholas' Cathedral (also where the stories of good olde Saint Nick originate):

Because it becomes pitch black at 15:30 PM here, Hadrian's Wall did not seem like a good plan.  I wasn't going to be wandering sheep fields in the freezing darkness, so that landmark remains unchecked on my list.

However, I did feel very accomplished having beaten Newcastle at its whole "go home tourists, we don't have real signs for landmarks for you here" game.  And I have to say, the Tyne really does have some excellent fish.

Next stop: Back to London on Saturday with a friend!

Also, five days until Boyfriend gets here and we conquer IRELAND!  But more importantly, five days until he gives me Looking for Alaska by John Green, which I seriously need to read again.

Cheers!

Things to Love, Things to Hate: The Week Five/Halfway Drag

Dear Rancid Ramen Packet,

I hate you, you delicious sodium-filled son-of-a-gun.  Thanks a bunch for nourishing me for ten minutes then backstabbing me FOR THE REST OF THE NIGHT.  I mean everything was fine, and then I was skyping with The Boyfriend and said, "Heylemmecallyoubackokaybye" and slammed the computer shut and well, I won't go into the details.

Today was almost just as pathetic.  I slept until three in a desperate one-day recovery process.  However, I did regain my appetite because life without loving food is no life at all.  It's like walking around without a soul.

I've also got the week off, aka the two days I DO have class, I don't have to go this week.  You know, for all the momentous amounts of work I have.  So, I hope to be updating soon about a trip to Newcastle and Hadrian's wall.  And therapy shopping (shut up I want something sparkly).

Also, being sick made me extremely irritable and I created this list that I can now share with my American audience:

Things That Have Stopped Just Being Vaguely Annoying and Now are Extremely Annoying:
-It's KETCHUP not tomato sauce
-The fact that no matter what, there's just never enough salt
-No, I'm not from Canada.  Does it sound like I say "eh" and "a-boot"?
-Earphones.  Dead, again.  How many more pairs must I buy??
-My flatmates, cooking up authentic Chinese food EVERY NIGHT whereas I can't seem to put two pieces of bread together. 


Things That Are Worth Smiling At:
-The Brits outside my window attempting to move a stone bench at 2:30 A.M. and are falling over while trying to hug each other
-My booked flight to Ireland in TEN days!
-This picture (thanks Boyfriend):

 -This conversation tonight:
Boyfriend: "Annie, I'm sending you another package."
Me: "NO WAY? Really?!"
BF: "But.."
Me: "But...?"
BF: "I swear, I didn't know, but...I might have sent you some Ramen..."
Me: "......."
BF: "I'm sorry!"
Me: "No!  I ran out today!"
BF: face palms.  "That's the spirit."

So after recovery mode, and after I finish watching all the amazing 30 Rock I rediscovered on my computer, I swear the blog will be much more exciting.  I'm sure not many people want to hear about how sick I've been.

Cheers!

Remember, Remember This Fifth of November

Ranking of cities from coolest to lamest:
1. Edinburgh
2. London
3. Liverpool
4. Oxford
5. Lancaster
6. Windermere
7. York
8. Leeds

(Not including the small towns in Scotland that would probably rank under London anyway, I just didn't want to make England look THAT bad)

So, I hope now everyone can understand why this entry really won't be that enthused about York.

Ugh, okay, York, let's be done with you:

Clifford's Tower

York Minster: Full of itself since the mid 600s

Queen Vicky's Royal Train

And then it started raining before I could hit York Minster, the only thing the city really has to offer.  And I was wearing my new Pumas so I cursed the stupid England weather, "Really?  REALLY?  We're going to do this now?  FINE, York, two can play at this game.  Rain all you want, I'm seeing York Minster, and it BEST be worth this."

After York, I went to go see Rachel at Oxford!  Teddy Hall's beautiful despite it's ongoing construction:

"Whatever you do, DON'T step on the grass."  "Why not?"  "Because.  No one steps on the grass."

We went to Teddy Hall's formal dinner and it was like being in a different world.  Everyone dresses up and wears gowns to this thing, it was so cool to feel that sophisticated.  The students fall quiet when the professors enter the hall and stand, only sitting after one of the professors mumbles the Latin motto.  They even served Teddy Hall wine.  And I think I ate duck, and I think I actually liked it, but I'm trying not to think about that.  Oh, and the dinner conversation?  "What gives people value?"  Yep, Oxford moment.

Saturday, Rachel came home abused but extremely happy from rugby fitness training.  I'd post the picture but I think she'd kill me.  I discovered the wonderful cheapness of Primark (as well as wondering how one wears half that stuff in the store) and my favorite event, cream tea.

Some dude passing by the window actually started laughing at us when Rachel took the picture.  Whatever, he's missing out.

It's actually simply English breakfast tea but you spread the clotted cream on the scone as well as jam.  SO GOOD.

Then, Bonfire Night!!  It was so funny to see the English try to do a fair, they just aren't trashy enough.  It was also amusing to see these traditional, proper people burn Guy Fawkes.  I was told that it really wasn't out of hate anymore, but just tradition, which made more sense.  I'm actually surprised Americans don't have something like this, since we are a country of pyros.

There were fireworks stuffed inside of Guy Fawkes too!

 Then we hit the pub for a cider and finally returned back to the room.  Needless to say, this weekend was blast, right up there with my Scotland adventure.  Because really, it's not about where you go, but the people you are with.

"This wall's probably been touched by CS Lewis... Or Tolkien.  You should probably hug it."

Cheers!

Beer and Bonanza in Las SCOTLAND

Three words: Scotland is amazing.

Hey, just because I like Hunter S Thompson DOES NOT make me a hipster, kthnx.

I heard so many stories this past weekend I had to write them all down just so I could keep them all straight.  Instead of boring everyone to death about Clan battles, JK Rowling and Hogwarts histories, five hundred year old castles, and brilliant Scottish architecture, I'll just make write a quick list of all the awesome things I saw and did in three days:

-Edinburgh (including JK Rowling's favorite cafe where she wrote parts of Harry Potter!)

-The Dalwhinnie Whiskey distillery

15 year old whiskey is just as icky as any other whiskey

 -The Highlands (battles, clan stories, murder, deceit, all that fun stuff)

 -The school were James Bond, Tony Blair, and Sean Connery attended
-The castle that imprisoned Mary, Queen of Scots
-Both castles in Monty Python and the Holy Grail (yeah, you're jealous)
-A bone fragment of Robert the Bruce

The bone fragment is hidden by the shadows, but why people gawk at a dead dude's piece of bone is beyond me

-Wallace Monument

Behind me is the town of Stirling

Researches have come to believe that Wallace was well over six feet tall due to where the hilt of his sword hit, therefore Mel Gibson was an inadequate Wallace (but we didn't need research to tell us that)

-The rails that the Hogwarts Express takes
-Loch Ness and Loch Awe

I tend to look like a tool when I'm freezing my butt off

And that's half of my list.  Now, our guide was about a forty year old Scotsman who was determined to wear his kilt and a wool knit sweater despite the freezing rain and cold winds.  He was awesome and even went out to the pubs with all thirty of us Arcadia kids.  Actually, he reminded me so much of an older, Scottish version of my friend Stefano!

What?  Oh, it's just the sunrise over Edinburgh, no big deal.

 Speaking of Wooster, two Wooster study abroad kids were on the trip with me.  I'm beginning to think the world is just as small as the COW!

And now, I will leave you with the coolest video you will see today:

Hee-land Coos!  Or Highland Cows, whichever you prefer.  That is the wife-highland cow and the baby-highland cow of Hamish, a 14 year old hairy beast who became famous when about to be sent to the slaughterhouse but saved by the adoring school children's petition!  Now he has a home and a family, and many travelers stuffing their wooly faces full of radishes and feed.

I have to say, it was my favorite weekend so far.  Also, I'd like to brag and say that not only do I have the Wooster McLeod tartan, but also the Hunter clan tartan too!

Cheers!