Three, Two, One; Take Off!

Dad,
This post is for you.  First, happy birthday (as of yesterday), congratulations on being 45, and secondly I'm updating so you can read this brand new post on your iPad!  I can only imagine how you're conversation with Mom will go:

You: "Jan!  Jan!  Annie updated her blog!  And she put me in it!  Come look, come look!"
Mom: "Jim, I'm a little busy doing the dishes [and adoring our favorite youngest daughter from the photo collage on the fridge]!"
You: "You're in it too."
Mom: "Be right there."

Then, like any other technological encounter, I imagine it'll continue on to this:

Mom: "Jim, move your fingers.  I can't see anything."
You: "Oh, jeez Jan, calm down.  Erhm, what did I just do?"
Mom: "Where did the page go?"
You: "Just a minute, keep your pants on."

Anyway, happy birthday Dad!  I can't wait to secretly use your iPad and customize all your backgrounds to kittens wearing silly costumes!

So, today was my last day of classes.  Again (just like all the other hopeless weeks), FOUR people showed up to my Victorian Literature seminar.  Including me.  Having actually read the book unlike the rest of my half-witted peers, I did the majority of the discussion, delicately ripping out the very soul of the main character of Adam Bede by George Eliot. 

The novel is really about Hetty Sorrel.  You know it's going to be scandalous with a woman named Hetty

I loved this book.  It was my favorite novel that I read while in England (sorry, Austen).  George Eliot is actually Mary Ann Evans and had to use a pen name, which is also pretty cool.  At the end of the class, my professor wished me well on my flight home and said, "Thank you, Annie, for contributing such a...lively presence."

Welcome.

And now I have three days, one night, and two papers left and I'm allowed to leave the country!  I'm certainly not going to miss eating like a 40 year old single man.

Cheers!

Thanksgiving: Several Hours in a Lobby Eating Fruit Rollups (aka Winning)

Okay, no more teapot posts, however, as a quick preface...  I'd like to inform my dear readers that I just made the purchase of black currant, ginseng and vanilla tea.  Not that you all care.

I pick Boyfriend up from our wee Lancaster train station midday, just in time to drop him off at my flat so I could go to my British Romanticism class, where my old British professor challenged my third-wave feminist attitudes on writing. HAH, picked the wrong girl for that!

I race back to the flat, Boyfriend had insisted we fly to Ireland the same day he arrived ("Oh, might as well get all the flying out of the way, even though you are probably one hundred percent right about flying the next day, but whatever!"  Okay, fine he didn't say the last part), so we had a small window of time to catch a train in order to check in for the flight.

Needless to say, there was a lot of running through the airport, and me saying, "Hey, we should totally sign up for the Amazing Race!" and immediately retracting that statement after sprinting up a flight of stairs.
As you can imagine, because it is my life, we missed the flight.  And all the hotels were booked... Except Travel Lodge: the cheapest, ugliest looking accommodation we've ever seen.

At the crack of dawn on Wednesday, we awake, and get on the 8 AM flight to Ireland!

"You both look so happy!" Happy, mom, yes, we are happy.  Also delirious from sleep exhaustion and just relieved we managed to not screw up this flight

Dublin Town Center: you can also see the Spire Monument in this picture (the giant spike)

Dublin was a pretty cool city.  We did a lot of shopping and I even got to author-stalk James Joyce!  Boyfriend humored me and got me a few trinkets from the James Joyce Center!  I think Larry Stewart and Mazen Naous from the COW would applaud me.

That night, we walked to the Guinness Factory, where Boyfriend took some excellent pictures from the Gravity bar after we had our free pints of Ireland's greatest beer.  Afterwards, we stayed out fairly late (I know his post says 3 AM, but we were definitely in bed by eleven...latest) taking pictures of the lit up city and eating Irish McDonald's chicken nuggets on the bench overlooking River Liffey.

Boyfriend in Merchant's Arch

Photographer in action

And what good would one of my stories be if yet another thing didn't go wrong?

Stupid Dublin ATMs ate my money and left me with 20 worthless American dollars.  So the next morning, I had to call AAA back in America to sort it all out (I was surprised Mom hadn't all made them want to quit their jobs by then).  Boyfriend and I, completely exhausted from running around Dublin, decided to head back to Lancaster.  But first, we needed to get to the ferry.

Boyfriend: "Oh, it's no problem, my super awesome iPhone says that it's just past the river by the Dublin Docks.  We can walk that.  My iPhone hasn't been wrong about anything either."

So I prepared myself for a very long journey:

Yes, I am a dork, thanks for noticing.  And yes, water does come in that ridiculously sized bottle here.

US TWO HOURS LATER

"Boyfriend, we're idiots."

"Yup."

 Oh, and our backpacks weighed like thirty pounds from our Christmas shopping (yes, families, we love you just that much).  We finally made it and then proceeded to spend approximately six hours in the lobby of the ferry waiting room, and mind you, this was on Real Thanksgiving.  But that's okay, because it was pretty hysterical and we were too thrilled to have found the ferry to care.  Also, I made him play ISpy with me as well as micro-manage his game of Solitaire.

But we made it onto the ferry, and the stormy sea made us both a bit motion sick.

Spirits still high despite wanting to throw up

At midnight, we were in Holyhead, Northern Wales!  I've never been to Wales, and even at night it was absolutely beautiful.  I'd live there if it had a Chipotle and didn't have such chilled winds.

I believe this was our favorite part: Holyhead.  It was beyond any beautiful words:

Boyfriend photobombing my lovely picture

Sooner or later, we found ourselves back in Lancaster!  Which everyone will have to wait for that post, so there.

Cheers!

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!

WWNPHD?

Let me start off this entry by simply saying, my feet hurt.  I walked the length of two major cities in two days this weekend and it was a-w-e-s-o-m-e.

I was going to indulge in Author-Stalking.  The Brontës lived in Haworth, located in West Yorkshire, aka not too far from me.  However, Mr. Rail Station Man informed me that the Keighley (the nearest station) has very few trains arriving on that particular day, so disappointed, I began to walk away from the small Lancaster Rail Station.

But...  Then I asked myself, WWNPHD? (My friend Rachel has also asked this great question too)

Exactly.

So I said, "screw it," and went to Leeds.  Then I went to Liverpool.  And it was awesome, thanks Neil Patrick Harris!

(Parents, I know you have no idea who Neil Patrick Harris is, please don't start liking him, because if you start liking him then it'll be automatically uncool, okay?)

This is the Corn Exchange Building.  Yeah, I don't know either.

How can I sum up an entire city?  Let's see, if Leeds were a person, he'd be an old man in desperate need of a shower, dressed like a provocative teenager.  I have to say though, Leeds did have some very cool street sculptures:

All hail Freddie Mercury

The (Modern) Myth of Sisyphus Statue, aka why I went to Leeds in the first place

Liverpool was completely different.  The city has a monument problem, meaning there are monuments everywhere.  I spent my day in Liverpool visiting the Walker Art Museum, the Liverpool Museum (where I was held witness to original Beatles costumes and instruments), the great Cathedral (which has the third largest working bell system and largest working organ in the world), and accidentally walking in on a funeral.

Behind the church was the very ornate Royal Liver Building, donned with the famous Liver Birds

Oh...Oops... (And yeah, I took a picture of it, what are you going to do about it?)

Oh, and Liverpool has another weird obsession:

There are 125 Superlambananas in the city

These guys are called Superlambananas.  They look like Pokemon and I can't decide if this city is absolutely crazy or brilliant.  The Superlambanana are everywhere.  I believe the original is named Mandy the Superlambanana and she resides in the Liverpool museum. 

Yeah, I'm not making this up, this stuff is legit.

Superlambananas aside, this weekend I'm heading off for a weekend in Scotland with Arcadia.  I'm really excited, Scotland sounds wonderful, I know this because Lydia has informed me that she doesn't want to leave it!

Cheers!
(And a special thanks to the parents for sending me clothes and Boyfriend and his family for supplying me with endless amounts of candy!)

Shamefully Stashing Away My American Vindictiveness

A toast, to Trevor.

We celebrated its last night with a few Strongbow Ciders on the patio of my college bar, far enough away from the asbestos ridden structure.  The entirety of Furness has packed up and moved, including my pigeon hole (in British that means mailbox, it's quite ridiculous, really) and all the offices.  It's a good thing I figured out where my mail is going considering I should be expecting Mom's package of my winter wardrobe (thanks Mom).

Today, I was ready for class.  I haven't been in class for four months and I think my brain might have rotted a bit, but oh, was I ready.  At my first class, everyone seemed pleasant enough and it so happened that I was the only American in there.  After reading "A Clean Well-Lighted Place" by Hemingway, the professor opened the room for discussion.  Let's just say, it wasn't what I was used to.

"I completely disagree with you and your half-formed ideas, you nincompoop!"

Instead of a heated debate among students, with their pulsing veins and bright red faces that I've grown accustomed to back home at the COW or even in my AP classes in high school, I experienced this:

"What a sound idea!  I hadn't thought the green light in The Great Gatsby could be a symbol!  You're ever so smart"

It was a polite discussion in which the professor agreed with every student who volunteered, even if the ideas were completely ludicrous or irrelevant to the text.  The lecture, however, was informative and engaging.  I think I'm going to enjoy being talked at rather than interacting with my British peers.

Late last week I noticed that the registry entered one of my seminars incorrectly.  At the COW, this would mean apocalypse.  This would mean the end of all Semesters.  This would mean e-mailing countless professors and the registrar, sweating for a spot in the class you wanted, beating other students out of the way in the most brutal and neanderthalic fashion.  This would mean: you're screwed.

I marched into the English and Creative Writing department, fists clench, speech prepared, determination set.  I was going to have zero classes on Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday.  No way were they going to "mistakenly" stick me for that early seminar on Friday, I am an American!  But first, who the hell was I going to talk to?

British Tutor Roaming the Hallway: "Can I help you find a room?"
Me: "What?  Oh, yeah..." looking at him suspiciously "I need to talk to someone about changing a seminar class..."
British Tutor: "Oh, yes, yes, right this way.  It's that door on your left."
Me: "Um...Thanks."

I pounded on the door, this was it, my retribution.  The woman inside motioned me in, she was grinning and listening to upbeat British music.  She smiled at me sweetly and asked what she could do to help.  Perplexed, I told her the issue.

"Well, that's certainly not right!  Funny how these things can mess up!" She sang merrily.
She typed away on the computer and seconds later looked up.  "Alrighty then, all set.  I'll email the tutor and let him know you'll be in the group."
"That's it?"
"That's it!"
And then I left.  I was pretty convinced that I wouldn't get away with this, I even considered not bothering with it and leaving the class for the Friday.  Now, I'm not quite sure what to do on my five day weekend, aside from studying.  I guess that means a trip back to London!

If anyone has other suggestions of a not-so-terrifying trip I could manage on my own, drop me a line!

Cheers!

Nothin' but Nerves

Today, I realized how right Rachel was when she told me, "It'll go by fast, soon you'll be like WHERE DID MY SIX DAYS GO?!"

And so now, I'm wondering where did my six days go?  Did they even happen?

Needless to say, the London bridge did indeed fall down quite a few times that day

Mom's idea of a British flag ^

As the weekend flew by, Boyfriend made it a point to help me celebrate the completion of my second novel:

That's also my birthstone.  Yeah, I know.  It's better than yours (exception being Lydia who shares my awesome birfday month)

And then Monday came.  Boyfriend went away for home but the decorations stayed.  And then I had to pack.  It sucked (see below)

Before (during which I misplaced my sanity)

After.  Oh, looks easy doesn't it?  No, chump.  That suitcase didn't pack itself.

However, there were some fallen soldiers in the aftermath of this process.  I'm not proud of this.

Nobody puts Wellies in the corner.

The only thing I bought six months ahead of time for England had to stay behind!  The boots weighed five pounds together and my suitcase was already on a diet.

And with my bags finally packed I had one more thing coming my way:

A wild Boyfriend appeared!  Annie used "take not-so photogenic picture"!

Mom started screaming about a cat on the patio, so naturally I was eager to sprint to catch a glimpse.  It wasn't a cat.  But I guess I can't really be that upset.

Next stop: England.

Cheers!

My Last Week Countdown

Honestly, I don't really have a last week countdown.  It seems as if I rushed LAST week to get everything done, that I've run out of things to do.  The only thing I can do is, well, wait.

Last night, almost as if the universe was rubbing in the fact that I'm still in Ohio, I received a phone call from my sister.

"Hey, this is a surprise," I answered.
"Hi!  Well, I thought I'd call because you're fleeing the country!"
"Yeah...  I am...  But not until next week," I responded, utterly confused.
"What?  Oh, I thought you were leaving tomorrow!"

Thank you, Universe, because I really needed to be reminded that I am not leaving for six more days.

Also, I'd like to say thanks again to the Universe who scammed me by means of my worthless American money being converted into 100 pounds.

Might as well be Monopoly money

I can take solace in the fact that my last weekend in the States should be explosively fun with Mom decorating the kitchen lamp and insisting that "red, white, and blue stars are completely reflective of the British flag", Boyfriend coming from Wooster, and reading Meg Cabot's newest book (thanks Dad).

And despite not being at the College of Wooster, I am excited at my chances of seeing Rachel at orientation as well as Kate, if I can ever pull her out of Italy : )

Cheers!