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LAST ENTRY!!!! [10 Jul 2006|03:15am]
Sooo…how’s everybody been. Haven’t blogged in quite some time now, but its better late than never right? Although this entry might be a little light on the details, it is chock full of action and I have a lot to go over for my final “piece”. Let’s seeee…what’ve we got…Anglesey, a party, York, Glasgow Scotland, Dublin Ireland, a really long plane ride and holy crap we’re readjusting to life in America. We’ll just hit the highlights because that’s about all I can remember and probably about all you can stand anyways. Its been a long joyful ride, thanks for sticking with me.

April 8th

Today Megan and I met up with Welsh Ross and the Finns for our trip with the International Society to North Wales and the Isle of Anglesey. You might be surprised that there even is a North Wales because its so small, but sure enough if you keep going there is one, and the people there hate the people below them almost as much as they hate the Northerners. I never expected to find so much hate in a country so small, but yeah they have a not so friendly rivalry with each other.

Anglesey is the big island right off the tip of N. Wales, and it is known as Mona or the “Mother of Wales”. Anglesey is known mainly for its coal, copper, unemployment, sheep farmers, but what it lacks in interesting things to be known for it makes up in beautiful scenery: steep rocky crags over looking the jagged coastline, wildflowers, a stupendous view of Mount Snowdonia on the mainland, and Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwlllantysilio.

That monstrosity is the longest village name in the world, and was our first stop of the day. It roughly translates into “The Church of Mary in the rough hollow of the white hazel by the fierce whirlpool near the church of Tysilio.” Known locally as Llanfair PG, the small village is basically a tourist trap for folks like me: those who have an equal and pressing need to take a pee and a goofy picture next to a sign in desperate need of a vowel. In fact that’s why the village was named the way its named, because a local business man was tired of travelers just riding through his town and stopping at the next one “Those dastardly north northerners! Stealing my tourists! I’ll fix them!” he cried. And so he did, giving the town a ridiculous name and now tourists around the world have a pee and a picture in lovely Llanfair PG.

Our next stop took us to the South Stack lighthouse further up the coast. South Stack is a very picturesque rocky cliff area that you’d expect to find on a calendar somewhere. It probably is actually. South Stack also happens to be a puffin sanctuary, but the birds apparently had better things to do than pose for our pictures as they were no where to be found. (If they were smart they probably went down to Llanfair PG, I mean that’s where all the action is these days. Check out those letters!) Anyways, I spent my time hanging off over the cliff on a ridiculously windy day trying to get some really good pictures. Yes, I knew that was kinda semi dangerous, getting swept away and then splat impaled on some jagged rocks below with endangered puffins eating my eyeballs out, but I thought “pssshhhh, yeah right. Like that ever actually happens to anyone!” Oh how wrong I was. I was quickly whisked away by the tour guide where he sadly told me they’ve “already lost two folks this year.” WHAT!? A little warning about these “incidents” would’ve been a nice, friendly tip! Anyways, no one on our trip began puffin fodder, and I got some really nice pics too.

Our next stop around the island was the Parys Mountain Copper mine. Now I know
Parys Mountain Copper mine doesn’t exactly sound like a rip-roaring time, and it wasn’t really, but it was very pretty. All the sulfur in the earth had turned the ground different shades of yellow, red, orange, and even purple. The massive man made pit, clawed out of the earth with powerful combination of machine and explosives literally shined because of the just fallen rain shimmering in the now bright sunshine. It got a little tedious, as our tour guide was really a full time geologist, so he spent about 30 minutes telling us about all the fascination welsh rocks, but it was a very pretty spot.

We looped around the other half of the island for a quick pub stop at a sleepy lakeside town called Beaumaris, and then made a stop at the Menai Suspension Bridge. The Menai Bridge is a spectacular architectural feat joining Anglesey to the Welsh mainland, unless of course you could give two puffin’s poots about architecture. But even then it is worth a stop, because it really is beautiful when you combine it with Mount Snowdonia high in the purple clouds behind it, the shimmering water underneath it, and the yellow spread all around in front of the bridge. Goss is a thorny pain in ass bush to walk through, but when its yellow flowers bloom it is very beautiful to look at, just don’t touch it, or rip your pants all to shreds in it try to take a nice picture of a bridge like yours truly did.

Later that night we went to our favorite restaurant in the Curry Mile for a meal. I tried the spiciest of the spicy curries, vindaloo. Vindaloo is delicious; just be sure to have an entire pitcher of water to wash it down with during your meal.

April 9th,

Today we went to York, which is about two hours north west of Manchester. Megan and I woke up so sleepy from our trip yesterday that we had to sprint about four or five blocks just to catch the bus at the International Society. As if we weren’t tired enough already! Our general vibe for the day is to relax, and we don’t really even feel like traveling anywhere, but we really want to take advantage of the opportunity while we have it so…its off to York!

The day didn’t get any better as we stepped of the bus into an unusually cold and yet day; even by English standards this was pretty miserable weather.

We parked in the middle of the suburbs for some reason and then had to troll about to find the city center where all the interesting historical bits of historical York are located. I’d like to have seen the folks who woke up on a lazy Sunday morning to see about 20 Chinese kids taking pictures of their house.

Megan and I strolled around the cobblestone streets, huddled together for warmth, and perused a market (lord, I just said “perused”!) with no real intention of buying anything until we came the York Dungeon.

York is very famous in British history for 1. Vikings 2. Executing people 3. Churches. We figured the “York Dungeon” was a real dungeon, remodeled obviously and done up with lights and what not, but a dungeon nonetheless. But no, it was a cheesy little quasi museum displaying little bits of torture and other grisly aspects of life like the bubonic plague. Makeup clad folks pop out of the dark and scare the bejeezus out of you and then proceed to educate you about what kind of horrible punishments awaited you back when York wasn’t so historic, but just plain ol’ torturing and killing York. We learned how a nice chap called Guy Fox tried to blow up Parliament, and how he was tortured for ten days but refused to give up any of his conspirators’ names. We also discovered how the Vikings used to skin their victims alive and decapitate them with an axe and how the legendary highway man, Dick Turbin, was hung for stealing horses, a very serious crime for the blood hungry Yorkies. In our little tour group we had a bunch of French folks, who couldn’t play along with the cheesy tour guides gimmicks even if the wanted too, because they DIDN’T SPEAK ENGLISH! Commands of “RUN, RUN FROM THE HANGMEN! Were met with puzzled looks and a “Nous parlons Anglais monsieur?”. I’m still not quite sure why they went in the museum if they couldn’t understand English but whatever.

Next we went to the glorious York Minster. It really was a beautiful building with a far less grisly history, but an even steeper price tag. We had to pay to get inside the Minster (which is rather large church that happens to be a kind of center for other churches), then pay to go down to the crypts, and then pay again to go up to the lookout. Gah! And then when I’m in the gift shop some lady tells me to take my cap off with a slightly horrified look on her face. Take my cap off! Take the friggin’ over priced, capitalistic, rip off of a gift shop out of the HOUSE OF GOD! Maybe its just me, but I don’t think Jesus minds me trying to cover up my messy oily hat hair as much as he would you guys ripping off people who want to learn something about him and how Christians worship. Good lord! Other than that, it was a spectacular church, despite the ongoing renovations, and it was really beautifully put together.

After that there really wasn’t too much to do. So we grabbed some digestives and a cup or two of tea and waited until the bus came back. We were so happy to be somewhere warm when we finally got back on the bus! It might be a little early to say this, but I’m already feeling a little tired of traveling. I need a vacation from my vacation!


April 10th

Whoops! Today we were supposed to go to the Peak District in Castleton. Turns out we actually bought tickets to Castleton Station which is still in Manchester instead of Castleton the town. Oh well. I would’ve paid the 5 pounds to someone just to let me sleep in today, so I was grateful for the break. I think it’s just what we needed. Peak



April12th

Today Megan and I hopped on a bus at about 9am and spent roughly five hours on it heading north to Glasgow in Scotland. Our friend Scottish Ross had graciously agreed to put us up for 2 days and show us around Scotland.

We arrived to “typical Scottish weather” which is even rainier, cloudier, and colder than England’s dreary mess. Ross showed us around several universities and the Glasgow cathedral. Most of the buildings are done in a Gothic style and it really reminded me of what you’d find on the Duke University campus. However, a lot of the buildings in Glasgow have kind of a black/dirt covering due to the many years exposed to the elements and pollution. Glasgow expanded greatly during WWII as a major shipbuilding site for the British navy, so it is another industrial sort of town.

After the gothic cathedral, we went out behind it where an enormous necropolis (cemetery) overlooks the entire city. The overcast sky and annoying drizzle made for perfect graveyard exploring conditions, and we had a pretty decent view of the city. We also found some “neds”, the Scottish version of the English “scally” or “chavs”. They found some heavy rocks and chucked them over the bridge onto parked carks below, smashing their windshield all to bits. Right in front of us! Not to say anything against Glasgow (this type of thing happens everywhere I guess), but it just shocked me.

We walked around Glasgow for the rest of the afternoon, taking in the scenes and the pubs. Megan, silly silly Megan, packed an entire suitcase full of CRAP for only three days, and we were forced to lug that around what seemed like the entire city. And because most of the pedestrian areas are cobblestone, her rolling wheels were of no use to us and we had to carry the heavy ass thing everywhere we went in the pouring rain. Ugghhhh. Backpacks people! They are so much easier to lug around. I cannot emphasize the importance of backpacks enough! Scottish Ross must’ve thought we were some stupid Americans (or at least Megan, I on the other hand brought a backpack with just the bare necessities), but he was nice enough to help us carry her load.

Once the sun finally came out we discovered what a beautiful city dreary Glasgow actually was, but by then it was time to get on the train and head to Kilmaurs, the tiny village just south of Glasgow where Ross actually lives. Glasgow is a beautiful city, lots of universities so there are lots of things for young people to do, and it has awesome Gothic architecture. I wish we had more time to spend there.

After meeting his family and having his dinner Ross’s father sat us down for an old Scottish tradition; drinking whisky. I personally didn’t care for the whisky (spelled without the “e” in Scotland), but it was very generous of him, and it was a very Scottish thing for us to do. We’ve been really fortunate to meet such generous people everywhere we go.

April 13th

Today Ross took us out to see some of his treasured Scottish countryside. Our first stop was Loch Lomond (yes it’s a real place, not just a song), which was only about a half-hour’s drive north from Kilmaurs. Loch Lomond is the largest lake in all of Britain and its surrounded by mountains and valleys. Can you imagine having a national landmark practically in your own backyard?

The sun actually came out for us today and Loch Lomond was spectacular. Ross explained it perfectly to us: Peak district is great, but it’s a crappy version of the Lake District. And the Lake District is beautiful, but its just a crappy version of Scotland. Overlooking Loch Lomond is Ben Lomond Scotland’s largest mountain (I think). Even if its not the biggest, it is impressive nonetheless. I spent most of my time slipping on algae covered rocks and almost ending up taking a bath in the lake. I’m surprised I haven’t killed myself on this trip yet…oh well, there’s still time.

After Loch Lomond we headed further north up higher into the mountains on a narrow, winding road, looking right over the lake. No barriers or anything to prevent us from plummeting down to our deaths. I thought Ross was taking the scenic route just for us, but he explained “Aye, no lad. This here is the only road”! Apparently the Scottish would rather enjoy the beauty of their country than get somewhere faster, which is fine by me.

We ended up in an area called Glencoe, which is a huge mountain and valley area. But by then we really had no idea where we were because the clouds and fog had come in so thick we really couldn’t see much of anything. Looking down the curved road, I noticed the area we were headed was completely black, it was like driving in a thundercloud. Once it finally lifted we got a fantastic view of Scotland’s version of the “Smokey Mountains”.

Off in the distance we saw some Scottish cows, which look more like furry water buffalo than your average cow. They’re apparently pretty famous in the bovine world.

We went up through the Trossachs, a town called Crianlarich for lunch, and finished at a coastal town called Oban where we watched the Irish ferry come to port. There is actually a hiking trail that covers most of what we did today in the car from Glasgow all the way up to Fort William, complete with bed and breakfasts along the way if you don’t feel like sleeping out in the elements. You can finish the trip in about a week, and right now it sounds like something I’d like to come back for one summer. 2008 reunion anybody?

Later that night, back in Kilmaurs, Ross took us out to his local pub, The Smuggler’s Inn, to sample some of Scotland’s beers and ale’s. My personal favorite is Belhaven’s Best, which he described as a “heavy”. I’m not exactly sure what a heavy is, but it reminds me of Brain’s, and its delicious. He even taught us American losers how to play darts. Sadly enough, the more pints I put down, the better my score. Later we went out for some cheese and chips and rested up after a long day of traveling around half of Scotland.


April 14

Today we left Ross and Scotland behind. I can’t thank him enough for being such a great host and showing us such a good time. After another five hours on the bus and some Jal frezi take away we spent the rest of the night packing for Ireland tomorrow!!! I’m so excited!

April 13

Today Megan and I woke up early to give us plenty of time to catch our 11am flight from Manchester to Ireland. Turns out we needed every minute of it.

First we had to catch a bus to the train station. If you’ve never caught a bus out in the rain, during the morning rush hour, with heavy bags, and then walked a couple of blocks, uphill, through throngs of British folks, with a couple of pressing deadlines to make then, well, you’ve never lived sucker. Needless to say it wasn’t a very fun ride, but we made it to the train with about a minute to spare. Whew.

The airport was slightly less stressful because we could ditch our bags and had a bit more time. For some reason our flight was delayed, which just made us even more nervous. “Our we at the right gate? Our we on time? Is this the wrong flight to Ireland? Did we forget something? Where’s my passport?” But in the end it was just a bunch of needless worrying, we made it on the plane (had to walk up those stairs you see presidents and celebrities walking out of, no gates for us), they tossed us some pretzels, and voila, we were in Dublin. I think the flight was like 20 minutes max. I think we spent more time on the train to go a couple of miles than we did on the plane going to an entirely different country!

Once on the ground we had to get our passports stamped, and then find some way to get to our hotel. Luckily in Dublin they have a bus system that runs only from the airport to hotels in the city. They dropped us off, and we used what little map we had to find our the Mount Herbet hotel. It was kind of scary walking around a country where we’ve never been before, and didn’t know anyone, and had no idea where we were. It was a relief to have Megan, so at least if I was lost, I wouldn’t be lost alone. Fortunately we found a cop, because cops know where everything is and he told us where to go. If we hadn’t found him we were going to hail a taxi, and just pay him to take us wherever the hell we were headed.

The hotel we had was really nice, and it really is only about a 15-minute walk from the center of town. You never really know if these places you see online are a true depiction, but our hotel was pretty accurate. It apparently used to be a whiskey distillery back in the day, and it just sort of retained that classic “old-timey” feeling. We even had (gasp) a TV, with (eeegads!) cable! So our first official activity in Ireland was to lie down, relax, watch a little of The Simpsons, and take a well deserved nap.

Later we ventured out for our first real impressions of Ireland where we wouldn’t have to worry about finding a hotel or being on time to anything. The first thing I noticed was the weather; it seemed out right tropical when compared to Britain’s. I hotel even had friggin’ palm trees! I could walk around in just a t-shirt, and even shorts if I had them. Dublin also seemed so much cleaner than Manchester. There wasn’t a lot of trash just strewn about, the air didn’t seem so smoggy, and even without the sunshine everything just seemed so much brighter. And maybe its just because I was relaxed on a “vacation”, but it felt a lot safer too. No roving gangs of scallies and chavs, no homeless guys approaching for money, no stumbling drunks; it just seemed so much more secure, but it could’ve just been me letting my guard down a little.

So what did we do our first day… First we strolled through St. Stephen’s Green, which is Dublin’s answer to Central Park. Very pretty, lotsa ducks, but a park is a park is a park. From there we just wandered around Grafton Street which is a pedestrian’s only area filled with restaurants, shops, and various street performers. They were the real attraction: a dancing James Joyce statue, a guy spinning plates, juggling footballs, a country western band, flamenco dancers, bagpipers, you could not believe the amount of performers per square foot here. After that we made our way over the River Liffey to O’Connel Street, which is the main thoroughfare that cuts through the center of town. We saw the massive General Post Office building and several statues that were still riddled with bullet holes from the famous 1916 Easter Rising against the British.

We decided we were hungry and walked over to the Temple Bar area, taking in some sights along the way. We tried to find a place that was kinda cheap, but quickly came to the conclusion that NOTHING is cheap in Dublin. We ate at a pizza place called the Bad Ass café, deciding to save our traditional Irish meal for a day when we actually knew what a traditional Irish meal was. After dinner we walked around the temple bar area (lots of pubs and restaurants) looking for the actual Temple Bar. The place was packed with mostly tourists, but enough Irish folks to make you feel like you’re in a traditional pub. After a couple of pints of Guinness and some Irish cider for Megan we headed back to the hotel for a well deserved sleep.

April 15th

Happy Easter everybody. Remember that Easter Rising against the British government I told you about? Well today is the 90th anniversary and Ireland is having a big giant military parade, and the Irish prime minister, British ambassador, and leader of Sein Fein (political wing of the IRA) are all going to be here! Holy holy crap! Megan and I just found out this morning reading the paper over breakfast. Hot diggity damn!

Well seeing as we only found at breakfast, and the rest of the country found out well before hand, we got to the place kind of late and had to squeeze in for a spot. People had already resorted to climbing on top of telephone booths and statues to get a view. All the dignitaries spoke, the Irish rebellion notice was read, and then the thousands of people lining O’Connel Street sang the national anthem. It was a pretty moving scene. I don’t know if we’d get that many Americans out on the streets to celebrate the fourth of July, and I know that not all of them know the words to the national anthem!

After that we moved up a couple of blocks to get a better view for the parade. First soldiers marched through looking very serious with their submachine guns and camouflage. Then we had Special Forces come through with gasmasks and even bigger guns. Then tanks, armored personnel carriers, jeeps, they even towed boats from the navy and search and rescue! Every now and then a fighter jet or helicopter would come in low, whistling right over the tops of the buildings!

After this we headed over to tour the Guinness Storehouse Museum. It was pretty easy to find; you could actually smell the hops as you got closer to the building. I was really impressed with the museum; they traced Guinness from its earliest beginnings in the 1700’s, went through the brewing process, had a collection of all the old Guinness ads and memorabilia, and all the free samples you can put down. And, the amazing thing is, there are about 5 different kinds of Guinness! Holy crap! After the end of the tour you can enjoy a complimentary pint atop the storehouse in the highest bar in all of Dublin. The bar’s glass walls form a circle so that you can look out over the entire city. Although it’s a beautiful place, Dublin doesn’t really have much of a skyline; except for a few factory pipes the city is basically flat. Back downstairs though seemed to be the real draw of the tourist attraction: the gift shop. I shelled out quite a few Euros buying several of countless odds and ends stamped with the Guinness logo they offer.

Later that night Megan and I sat down for our traditional Irish meal at the Boxty house. A boxty is basically a potato pancake filled with your food of choice. I had mine with a kind of beef stew type deal and it was delicious. Not anything to knock your socks off, but a pretty good meal nonetheless.

April 16th

Today was our last day in Ireland. Since we had some time to kill before our flight out, we took one of those little bus tours around the city. We learned the legend of Molly Malone who went around handing out oysters and food during the great famine, and how the cities Georgian doors became painted a rainbow of colors. Some say that when the Queen of England died, England ordered all the doors be painted black in mourning, but the Irish being Irish rebelled (they didn’t care too much for the queen) and painted them colorfully in celebration. Others say that the different colors help drunken husbands figure out which home is theirs when returning from late nights at the pub.

After the tour we waited to catch our bus back to the airport. And we waited…and waited…and waited. Normally this is not such a big deal, but when you’re in a foreign country, with a flight to catch, and non-refundable tickets, I kinda start to freak out. And so did all the other tourists in our little group (it seems like half the people in Dublin are tourists, or at the very least not Irish.) Then we realized that absolutely no traffic was coming through thanks to….THE FRIGGIN’ IRA!!! Yeah, in the words of a local cop the IRA and Sein Fein (still not sure if I spelled that right) were having a “small unplanned protest”. I’m not sure if he said it like it happened all the time just to impress me or if because it really does happen all the time! GAH! Well, eventually the protest was cleared up and our bus finally made it through, and Megan and I made it through the airport craziness safely back to Manchester. Dublin is a beautiful place and I’m glad I got to catch just a glimpse of it over the past three days. Hopefully, one day I can come back and see everything a bit more closely.

April 18th-Present:

I’ll skip over the small details of saying goodbye to my friends and flying back to America although I could probably fill a couple of pages with that stuff. I guess the big story here is how did I readjust to my home country. Well initially it was real easy: everybody wants to know how it is, what did you do, etc, etc, and of course I have loads to share, so that is all well and good. But then after the first three days or so you kinda run out of things to say about your trip and I’m sure everyone else is tired of “Oh, in England they do it this way” and “In England they say egg mayonnaise instead of egg salad”. There comes a point where one stops being clever and starts being pompous and I think I managed to minimize my pompousness. Then after about a week, I got back into the “family loop”, and had other things to talk about like my new job or other stuff that everyone else could actually relate to. And then after that, it was pretty easy adjust back to America, it wasn’t so tough after all. Here’s a list of random things that I experience now because of my trip abroad:

Whenever a character with an English, Scottish, or Irish accent pops up on TV, I find myself paying a lot more attention for some reason. I usually find myself smiling.

I had a dream about kebabs.

I nearly shat myself senseless when I saw pints of Tetley’s and Boddington’s in Harris Teeter.

Shawn of The Dead has leapt from mildly amusing to hilarious.

The World Cup is actually interesting this year, and now my family considers me a soccer expert.

I wish I could order some fried chicken and greasy chips to my home, instead of actually going OUT to buy them.

I miss Indian people. And their food.

I WANT TO WALK PLACES!!! Unfortunately there really isn’t too much worth walking too. Now when I park at a shopping center though I actually walk around from store to store instead of driving right up to them. My family thinks this is insane.
I still haven’t found a proper answer to “So, what’s England like?” “Err…it’s a lot of things…” just doesn’t quite cut it.

People laugh at me when I say porridge, but I still say it dammit!

I have a newfound appreciation for the sunshine, but now I manage to enjoy the rain as well.

For some reason fries are still fries, except when I’m getting fish, then its fish and chips. This confuses the hell out of the poor folks at Captain D’s.

Euro-Techno songs at the gym really pump me up.

I’ve switched from Conan O’Brien to Craig Ferguson. I can’t tell if it’s just the accent, or if he actually is funnier.

That Geico Gecko going on about pie and chips?! Oh man, don’t even get me started.

And a whole host of other things. It just goes to show you that even the smallest details stick with you. Its been an amazing, life changing experience,and I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world. A big thank you to the folks at the Gilman foundation for the grant that made all this possible.
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Week 13- March 30th through April 6th [07 Apr 2006|03:53pm]
[ mood | excited ]

Week 13! Wow, with only 13 days left, I’ve gotta admit I’m pretty anxious to go home. But, going home and leaving Manchester aren’t one and the same. I miss my family, and from my daily e-mail updates (thanks mom), it seems like I’m missing out on a lot: sister’s prom and art exhibition, sick relatives, even getting the old car fixed in our garage seems like events I should be home for. However, once I get home I know I’ll miss Britain and all my friends here. Looks like I’ll just have to live it up with what time I have left. Remember to check out he Gilman website if you are interested in a grant to help you study abroad.

March 30th
Woooooooo!!! Turned my essay in today! And, I think its actually pretty good too. Putting the final touches on and waiting in line to hand it in took up pretty much the entirety of my day, so nothing really happened. Sorry.

Friday 31st
Had my last actual class today. Hooray! No more drama. Although I can’t say I enjoyed the seminars too much, at least the class was interesting. I learned a lot about the tension between Ireland and Britain, and I got a pretty good perspective on post war England from this one class. I’ve also had a pretty good introduction to the theater; and I’d like to keep attending plays and even reading some drama. So although the seminar dragged on endlessly (like this blog sometimes), I can’t say I didn’t benefit from it.

Spring is here in Manchester! Freshly liberated from class I strolled through the city (not many people stroll in this bustling place, but I managed) and took in the beautiful sunshine. You can tell the first day of really warm weather because all the coats you’ve seen for about 5 long, gray months mysteriously disappear, and are replaced by bright t-shirts and flowing skirts. Can’t wait to go home and put some shorts and flip flops on; even cutting the grass in the blazing hot sun seems like a good time right about now.

Went on a 3 hour shopping extravaganza looking for a proper British present for my sister. This is one of those things you see everyone and their mother carrying (no its not an umbrella), but can never actually find one to buy for yourself. I know I must’ve looked like a shop lifter because I wore my big coat (who knew it would be so springy?), I still had on my book bag, and a big, hairy, guy doesn’t exactly belong in the ladies wear of Marks and Spencer’s. So despite marching around all-day and braving the suspicious looks I received in every ladies department I dared enter, I came home exhausted, frustrated, and empty handed. I literally shopped till I dropped, coming home and taking a 3-hour nap.

April 1st
Decided to do some more shopping today, as we also need gifts for the Finns, and this time I wizened up and took a professional shopper, Megan, with me. Of course we found what I was looking for yesterday straight away, but in a friggin’ men’s store. Grrr…

The center of Arndale Market (the shopping center) had been turned into some kind of Arabic market for the day complete with rugs, carpets, tents, leather bags, furniture, artists, even musicians and a belly dancer. Megan was none to pleased with the dancer’s rhythmic gyrations, but she managed to captivate quite a good portion of men in the area.

Later that night, we went to Ross’s with a few other folks and just hung out there way too late. It was a really good, laid back kind of night. Ross and his flat mate, the Welshman and an Englishman respectively, emphatically state that England and Wales ARE indeed countries, so I have them on my side. Megan has all the book learning, but these guys are locals so I sticking with them. Their argument: England, Wales, Scotland, Northern Ireland all have separate football teams, so obviously they are separate countries. In this place, football rules all.

When you come home and can’t even get a kebab because the all night take-aways are shut, you know you’ve been out a long time. Had to squeeze in a very brief sleep before our early morning ride to Chester tomorrow.

April 2nd

After a surprisingly refreshing 3 hours of sleep, we were on our way to Chester. Chester is about an hour's drive southwest of Manchester (lots of “---chesters” here in England).

The international society arranged for us to have a walking tour throughout most of the city, and then we’d have the afternoon to ourselves to do as we pleased. The Romans founded Chester as a fort, so there are still lots of ruins, gardens, and artifacts that the city is quite proud of. They even have the largest Roman amphitheater (where they used to have gladiator fights and what not) in all of Britain, but its not completely excavated yet. There are Roman walls that circle around the 2.2 miles of the city center and you can walk completely around them for a pretty good view of the city and surrounding areas. I think you can even see some mountains all the way in Wales over the eastern part. The walls also house the second most photographed clock in Britain; the East Gate Clock was built in honor of the queen’s jubilee and is apparently a big deal here.

Chester is very proud of its history and it takes a great effort to preserve as much of the past as it can. Bridges, Roman arches, churches, cobblestone streets, and Victorian architecture; it’s all there just as it was centuries ago. During the summer, they even have an official town crier come out once a day and give the news.

Megan and I took a tour of Chester cathedral. I’m not sure when it was built, but trust me its old. It was originally a monastery for monks until King Henry the VIIIth (at least I think that’s who it was) closed it down. However, the church managed to find some loophole, and it didn’t close down completely and its still holds mass to this day. The building was built in honor of St. Wurburgh, and until recently, it used to house her bones. The stained glass windows were the size of entire walls from the churches I’m used to back home, and they were absolutely brilliant. The tour was pretty cheap, and you get this special headphone set that gives you a tour and points out all the history and hidden secrets of the cathedral. This way you walk around at your leisure, and the headset picks up a radio signal when you are near a point of interest, and it starts to tell you the information. The church was massive, and you really got a good feel for what it must have been like hundreds for years ago for the monks that called this place home.

After the Chester Cathedral, we circled the city over the windy walls, and then walked along the banks of the River Dee in search of some place with hot tea. Unfortunately, Chester is kind of like other smaller English towns in that they close down around 4 on Sundays. Well we waited about 15 minutes in the cold and rain for our bus to come back, and finally we were on our way back home for some much needed dinner and sleep.

April 3rd
Oh man. I slept for like 14 hours. It was fantastic. I feel so good now.

Kept up with the relaxing theme of the day and read a really good book pretty much all day, while sitting in front of my sunny window. Everyone has gone home now, so the usually loud and crazy dorm has fallen eerily silent. It’s starting to creep me out. Now it’s just me, Megan, and two other kids in a space that used to hold about 50. It’s like a tomb, but hey, at least no one is around to steal my food anymore.


Tuesday 4th
Today was Megan’s birthday!!! We had planned a trip down to Birmingham and the wonderfully Willy Wonka-esque tour of Cadbury World, but alas, Cadbury World managed to sell out. No golden tickets for us, but we went ahead with our trip and explored what the city had to offer.

So what did Birmingham have to offer? Well not too much according to what we found in my handy dandy travel guide and Megan’s research on the web. It’s the second largest city in England (London ranking in at #1, and Manchester around 3 or 4), but there aren’t many historical sites or special attractions. Just so you know, it’s about 2 and a half hours drive south of Manchester, right in the center of the country between Nottingham and us.

One of the highlights of Birmingham is shopping, so we did some of that. They have a massive shopping center called “The Bull Ring”, that is absolutely massive and has a really cool modern kind of design. The entire outside of the place is covered in shiny, mirror like structures; the light dances and shimmers off of the building, the same way it does off of a scaly fish. Right next door to the mall area are two giant city blocks dedicated solely to markets and stalls. Second hand goods, flea markets, auctions, discount prices on brand new things, fish and chips, fruit, DVDs, kebabs you name it, they’ll sell it. And they won’t hesitate to tell you how high quality their product is, and what a good deal you’re getting. Megan and I couldn’t resist picking up a few gifts and things, and then we grabbed some fish and chips for lunch.

Oh man, I almost forgot. We found…you’ll never believe this…I don’t even believe this…a…KRISPY KREME!!!! AHHHH!!!! The bright red “Fresh Hot Donuts” sign called out to us from across the mall, and like moths attracted to your porch light, we stumbled over. I could not believe it. I was literally stunned. I couldn’t even order properly. I just stood there, watching the beautiful, glistening, poofy dough run through the magical donut-making machine. We must have looked absolutely stupefied because the woman behind the counter, an angel of happiness, asked us “Have you two ever been to a Krispy Kreme before?” Ever been to a Krispy Kreme!? Lady, I’m from the home of Krispy Kreme. North Carolina: Tobacco, ACC basketball, pulled pork barbecue, Pepsi cola, and Krispy Kreme donuts; this is my home! By this point we must have had drool running down our faces, and she says, “Here love, try these while you decide.” And this beautiful woman hands me two hot and fresh originals. Just gives ‘em away! For free! Like its nothing! AHHH! I almost shat myself with surprise. I almost tried to give them back; this poor, confused creature was just handing out free Krispy Kremes. Well as you can see, this just made my day.

After this we walked along the city’s scenic canals down to the Eye of Birmingham, and we got a bird’s eye view of the city. Then we moved on to the Birmingham sea life center, which was pretty cool. The aquarium has all kinds of fish and other sea life, so it was pretty interesting to see. They even have a clear, glass tunnel that runs right through the aquarium so you can walk through and see sharks and sea turtles swim right overhead. Luckily for Megan, we got there just in time for the otter feedings, so she was just thrilled. The otters don’t look so cute and cuddly when they are decapitating dead baby chicks, devouring the body in like two bites, and then playing with the amputated head for about 20 minutes. Vicious bastards.

We spent the rest of the afternoon wandering around the city. Found another shopping area called “The Mailbox”, as the giant red building is shaped and painted like an actual mailbox. Filled with posh shops like Armani and Hugo Boss, and with trendy cafes and bistros along the canal we felt the place was slightly out of our price range, but it was interesting to see.

We managed to get to our bus without any problems this time, and we had a long drive home. Cooked up some lemon peppered chicken and had a little birthday cake before going to bed after another long day.

Wednesday 5th
Whoops! I had a lab practical due today! Wish I had remembered this the Monday I spent doing nothing. Oh well, I did manage to get it done and turned in on time.

Spent some time studying for my physiology final tomorrow. The Brits have a month long spring break for all of April, and then they come back and take their exams. I think this is a pretty crappy system. I’ve only been out of school like four days, and I’m studying for my exam at about 11 at night before the morning of my exam, and they expect these kids to go home and study and remember their classes over a month at home? Not a chance.

Thursday 6th
Finished my exam today, which I’m pretty sure went ok. I could’ve studied more, but I only need a 50%, so I’m not bothered. A monkey guessing at random will get 25%, so I think I can manage to scrounge up the other half.

Megan and I had planned to go to the only Mexican restaurant we’ve seen in all of Britain, El Macho, for a celebratory lunch. El Macho turned into El No-o when we saw the prices. 14 pounds enchiladas? 15 pounds for burritos? That’s like paying 20 something dollars just for one dish, not including drinks and a tip. No way. We went to Subway instead, which made me really happy as I’ve been craving it for about 3 weeks now.

Megan and I are planning a little dinner party for tomorrow, so we had to make a special shopping trip. We’re doing some shrimp pesto, with mushrooms, tomatoes, tomatoes, and lots of olive oil. We’re also making some garlic bread as well, and a friend of ours is bringing desert. Got some red wine to stick with the Italianess of the meal, but picked up some beer for the British. Should be lots of fun, if not a bit stressful. Never really cooked for this many people before, plus they all think that since we’re Americans with our precious McDonald’s and dining halls at university, we don’t know how to cook for ourselves. Hopefully, we’ll prove them wrong, while having a good time.

In case you haven’t read some of the blog’s comments, my sister dreamed that I died the other day! Ah! How scary is that?! That means it’s about time to come home.

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two for one special: Weeks 11 and 12 [31 Mar 2006|12:14pm]
[ mood | mellow ]

Weeks 11 and 12. Whew…sorry this is so late guys, but it’s been very, very busy. Are you receiving a Pell Grant as part of your financial aid? If so, Google the Benjamin A. Gilman foundation to see about earning some more $$$ for study abroad.

March 16th

Not much going on today. Instead of writing my essay I’ve spent my computer time apartment and pet hunting. Mom has planned my entire summer before I even get home with a job (hopefully), a patio to paint, and all kinds of other things to do. She’s nuts. I should probably re-focus my attention back here in England because soon all of this will be gone, but I will have many days to plan an apartment and what not.

Tried something new tonight and cooked up some trout for dinner. I don’t know how we’ve managed to avoid fish on the cooking list so far, but tonight we got it. Drenched the fish in olive oil and then sprinkled it with freshly ground black pepper, 8 minutes on the George Foreman, and there you go.

My throat hurts all the time now. Just what I need, get sick right before St. Patrick’s Day, and exams. Oy.

March 17th

Happy St. Patrick’s Day everyone!!!

Well as soon as I got out of class Megan and I sprinted over to the MMU Student Union bar to try and get our four pints of Guinness down to get one of these giant, pint shaped Guinness hats. Fittingly though, before I’m even halfway through my pint though the place runs out of hats. They tried to console me with a lousy button. Bah! At 2 in the afternoon mind you! I thought we were getting a good early start, but no, I’ve underestimated these hard drinking Brits yet again. Oh well, my dreams of stumbling around Manchester in a ridiculous hat dashed away, we went to ASDA and did the weekly shopping.

Starting to experiment with our pesto now. Tonight we added some freshly diced tomatoes, crumbly feta cheese, and some grilled onions and mushrooms. I was feeling quite proud of myself until this one guy came in and made an enormous pot of curry straight from scratch. The bastard.

We had planned on getting everyone together tonight for a big St. Patrick’s Day celebration, and somehow or another the planning and organizing part fell into my hands. With two people out of town, one too sick, one too hung-over, one too embarrassed to face us after her drunken antics last time, and various other people bailing out, it was shaping up to be a pretty lame St. Patrick’s day.

Luckily, I managed to scrounge up Ross, his flat mates, and Ramsay, and Megan got the Finns and another girl down the hall and we all headed over to Ross’s. Its always kind of weird when you first bring your two different groups of friends to mingle with each other, and I always feel this pressure to try to include everyone in everything, but this really isn’t possible. All I can do is try to split my time evenly between groups and hope everyone gets along, which, for the most part, actually worked.

Its also tricky because the girls always want to go OUT, they’ve spent many an hour planning what to wear, what makeup to use, how to smell, and then how to pull it all together into the master piece that is the Friday night, going out outfit. Since they’ve spent so much effort in putting all this together, they usually would like to go out somewhere public to show it off; preferably swaying under the shining lights of a dance floor. On the other hand, the guys just want to drink and take the piss out of each other. This is best achieved at home where drinks are cheaper, and one doesn’t even have to dress nice, if at all, to get in. Even the problem of food is easily solved as you can just order greasy takeaways delivered to one’s house. Guys for the most part, never really want to dance because A) We cannot dance, B) Even girls who cannot dance will look good on the dance floor, guys just look spastic and sweaty so we’re not too bothered about showing ourselves off. And most importantly C) Dancing interferes with drinking, making fun of each other, and eating greasy food, our main objectives here. If the two sexes can then overcome these discrepancies, the guy who put them all together (ME) then has to worry about his guy friends coming on to the ladies, and/or offending them in some other manner, while also making sure that none of the girls smash one of their cute little martini glasses over his mates’ heads. Its quite the stressful job.

These inherent genetic differences pitted us against each other for about 2 hours, until we decided on a nearby place called Dry Bar. Despite the name, there are hundreds of drinks available, and supposedly it is the longest bar in all of Manchester. Even though we drank countless pints of Guinness, there were no more hats to be found, although we seriously considered nicking one off the head of an extremely inebriated gentleman lurching over in the bus shelter. Then it was off for the takeaways (sometimes the best part of the night) where I gluttonously (someone’s been using his thesaurus) downed an entire nine inch salami and pepperoni pizza, AND chips! I know I’m a pig, but they come free with the pizza!! What do you expect me to do…NOT eat them???

We took the bus towards Oxford Road to make sure Ramsay got home ok, but we would’ve probably been safer walking. In front of us, some piss-head was puking his lungs out, behind us an Englishman was picking a fight with a Scotsman, and down stairs two African women were casting voodoo curses on each other. Beware; public transport at 3am is kind of crazy. I’ve never really admired bus drivers until this moment in time: quelling (or at least ignoring) two fights, dodging pissed idiots who dart out in the street, and weaving a 30 foot bus in and out of traffic like he’s Mario Andretti in his Ferrari just really impressed me.

It turned out to be a really good St. Patty’s Day after all.

March 18th
Well…. a pint of Guinness a day may keep the doctor away, but even six won’t keep you from feeling like crap in the morning. To be fair though, I don’t think my misery is to be blamed on my drinking, but rather the terrible cold I have. My nose feels like its been filled with freshly mixed cement. Where are those precious anti-oxidants when I need them?

Found out another good friend from ECU, Scottish Ross, is going to come down next Wednesday and stay until Friday morning. And more good news, we can go to Wales next weekend with Welsh Ross from Friday to Sunday. I’m really excited, but this takes a large chunk of time out of the two weeks I needed to write this essay, as well as prepare for my plants and medicine exam. The schoolwork will be sorted eventually, no worries.

March 19th
Lovely, lazy Sundays. I still felt sick so I slept really late today, and I think that helped out a lot. I’m starting to feel better.

Got some work done today. I think this trip is really going to mess me up for my last two years in nursing school. “What?! We have a test every 2 weeks? I have to get more than a 50%? You must be joking!”

Called home last night and its really nice to hear from everyone. Got my updates on the March Madness that I miss so much. Dad seemed really impressed with all the Beatle’s stuff we saw in Liverpool, and Grandma is excited about my cooking “skills”. I didn’t get to talk to Mom and Laura because they were out celebrating Mom’s birthday. Geez. Happy Birthday Mom!

Today marks exactly one month before we board our plane back to the good ol’ US of A. The time has really flown by, but it hasn’t really snuck up on me. I guess that’s because everyone keeps reminding me how much its supposed to, and I’ve been trying really hard to use my time wisely. I know I’ll miss Manchester, but I know it’ll be even harder leaving my friends behind, which I guess is no great surprise. Although its been trimmed, stripped, and slimmed there are still plenty of things to do on the famous “To Do List”, and hopefully I’ll get most of that stuff marked off in the next few weeks.

March 20th
My Art, Propaganda, and Ideology class mercifully came to an end today. Thank you Jesus! After all the work we’ve done the professors let us know that we may not be receiving grades at the end of the term because the teachers union is on strike. I don’t think this affects me too much, but imagine if you were supposed to graduate. You can’t exactly graduate without grades, can you? The teachers want more money and power, but I’m not feeling too sympathetic after listening to my lecturer drone on about his house in Sicily that he is building up along the coast. These guys need more money like I need another hole in the head.

March 21st
Thanks to my thrifty training Megan managed to find a free movie deal. If we bought to issues of the local paper, we would get free tickets to a sneak preview of Inside Man, the new Spike Lee movie. I say knew, but it probably came out in the states ages ago; we’re on some kind of media time delay here. Anyways, the movie was really good and its essentially the same kind of deal that it is at home. Sticky floors, over priced snacks, lots of previews, you get the idea. It seemed like the entire place was filled with students, all of us too poor or too cheap to treat ourselves to a movie.

Had my first Jaffa Cake today. A Jaffa Cake is a British biscuit, with some orange jelly like stuff in the middle, covered in chocolate. I probably wouldn’t have gotten them accept that we learned the Manchester United Football team eats these at halftime to replenish their glucose stores as fast as possible. That made it like 2 times as British for me and I decided to go for it.

Spent a good portion of my day cleaning up for Scottish Ross who’s coming down tomorrow. I’m excited he’s coming down, but I have like no idea what to do with him so I’m kind of nervous. Hopefully, he’ll have a good time.

March 22nd
Scottish Ross arrived safe and sound after a 4-hour train ride from Glasgow. We went to the Piccadilly Train Station to pick him up, and that was pretty exciting for me as I’ve never been to a train station before. The place was extremely shiny and clean, with the kind of modern look that adorns much of Manchester’s newest buildings. The station also had lots of restaurants, gift shops, clothing stores, and even a grocery store or two. I was impressed.

It was great to see S. Ross (in case you’re confused there’s a Welsh Ross and a Scottish Ross) who has hasn’t changed at all since last year. We managed to get most everyone from the old ECU gang to go out with us to The Great Wall in Chinatown. We had a lot of fun reminiscing about old stories that never seem to get too old, and discovering what is new in everyone’s lives. It feels really strange whenever I think of these guys graduating and actually starting to work at a real job, a job they could have the rest of their lives.

After Chinatown we went for a pint of Guinness at O’shea’s Irish Pub. Although the place was kind of dead, it looked like it had the potential for a good night out so I’ll have to try and remember that. Its your typical, classic pub, and tonight must’ve been open mike night because we were tortured with one horrible musician after another. I wouldn’t sit through these guys again for all the Guinness in all of Ireland.

March 23rd.
Got the guys together for lunch at the student union. In addition to the full bar we actually serve food too. And not like at ECU, they don’t just toss some fried chicken at you, they actually serve you and bring it to your table! Forgetting where I was, I ordered the chicken tandoori wrap to quiet my stomach. But alas, I am here in England, and we have smaller portions than America. My wrap would probably have been found in a kid’s meal back home. Tasty sure, but there just wasn’t enough.

Lauren was a lot easier to entertain because she’s never experience Britain, but S. Ross is actually from around here. I can’t entertain him with red post boxes and double-decker buses. Still not exactly sure what to do with Ross, and with little help from the guys (thanks), we just decided we’d find his station for tomorrow, and then we’d walk around the city taking it all in. This wasn’t as boring as it sounds, I promise. We talked the whole time and saw the majority of the nicer city parts while marching around.

Later on, Marcus volunteered to take us up to Hartshead Pike for a nice view of Manchester and the surrounding areas. Despite the 5 o’clock traffic and the smog obscuring our view, it was still pretty scenic and it was a good time. It was so cold and windy up there that we managed to have a little snowball fight going down the side of the hill!

On our way back into the city, Marcus took us to one of his local pubs in Greater Manchester. This place was called the Witchwood, and to put it plainly it was kind of scary. This isn’t exactly the kind of place you’d find advertised in the tourist papers. The pool table has seen better days (as have most of the people inside), and even the Witchwood sign was hanging crookedly from one nail outside. Well we had our pints and managed to escape without getting stabbed, although Marcus did manage to drive us up the wrong end of one-way street.

Cooked up our vegetarian burritos tonight and Scotty seemed to enjoy them. He’s a pretty easy to please guest. I only mention this because we added a chili pepper into the mix and I am proud of us for using chilies.

We got everyone together again, which is just incredible because getting the whole crowd out TWO nights in a row is next to impossible. We also brought the Finns, so it was a pretty big group. After gathering at Ramsay’s we went to a club called 5th Avenue. They played Brit pop like Oasis, The Arctic Monkeys, and the Kaiser Chiefs, and some cheesy dance music. Its so nice to have some clubs that don’t just play hip hop and R&B. Greenville has about 8 clubs and they all play the same 100 songs, so I’m enjoying the variety while I can. 5th Ave, as its collectively know by students too busy to say complete words, was a pretty good club; it was cheap to get in and certain drinks inside were only 80 pence! Next year the smoking ban hits England, so going out will be a lot more enjoyable for us non-smokers. The Finns really hit it off with the old ECU crew so a good night was had by all.

Finished the night off with some cheesy chips at our favorite take away, and everyone bid their goodbyes to S. Ross before we sped off in a cab to rest our sleepy heads at home. I wonder if we’ll ever be able to get everyone together like that again.

March 24th
Today we dropped saw Ross off at Victoria train station. Poor guy has a long ride home after a late night out. Can’t wait to see him in Scotland, and I think he’s pretty excited too.

A few hours later we were boarding a train of our own with Welsh Ross to Cardiff, the capital of Wales. The return trip was 53 pounds, but as we waited too long to buy our bus tickets, this was a better deal. It took about 4 hours, which isn’t so bad when you have some traveling partners and a nice Subway sandwich to keep you company. Four hours of traveling at home won’t even get me to the beach, and here it takes me through almost half of the UK!

W. Ross’s Dad picked us up at the Cardiff Rail Station, and drove us 100mph back to their tiny wee village outside of Cardiff. I don’t remember the name of the village, but as it’s a proper Welsh name it probably looks something like “Ahgflgtychbah”. Welsh is a Gaelic language that is in desperate need of a vowel, and sounds like a cat coughing up a nice sized hairball. Most people speak English, or at least English as a second language, but as there is a major Welsh pride movement going on there is a resurgence in the language in order to bring about some national pride. I can’t really describe the Welsh accent accept that its closer to Scottish or Irish than English. I hear the tiny, isolated villages in the north are more likely to speak only Welsh.

In case you didn’t know, Wales is like the lamb and sheep capital of Britain. They raise sheep, they eat sheep, they wear sheep, and some lonely farmers even shag sheep. Welshy’s family even owns and lives on a “small” sheep farm; they say small but I don’t think 50+ sheep and a couple handfuls of horses isn’t exactly small. As we got closer to his house, the 100mph drive got a little scarier as we wound through bumpy country roads built for half a car, with the odd sheep or bunny jumping out in front of us. At the end of his mile long drive way (yeah, he definitely wins longest driveway contest), sits Llandbah Fagh, or “Little Farm”, the name of his house. These people are the king of understatements: if your house is big enough to have its own name, perhaps its not so little after all.

His Mum and Dad took us out to dinner at this really nice Chinese place. I tried duck for the first time, and Megan and I were really excited because it was chopped up just like Eastern Carolina BBQ! Tried a Chinese beer called Tsing Tao, which was surprisingly nice. Sorry, after being spoiled with British and Irish beers I just don’t have much faith in the Asian ones. Everything was fantastic, and his family was so nice and generous, it was really great to meet them.

Afterwards we went back home and watched about 2 seconds of British TV before falling fast asleep. Its been a long couple of days for all of us.

March 25th
Today we woke up to sweet smell of an English breakfast wafting up the stairs. Mmmm…

With it being light outside now we could actually look out over the allegedly “little farm”; the place is MASSIVE. Hills and valleys dotted with barns, sheep, horses, and tractors. It was amazing. Even on an overcast day you can look out your window over the entire village! And these folk get to wake up to this everyday!

We decided to spend the day in the city of Cardiff. Situated close to a seaside bay, we stopped at an area called Mermaid Quay, which normally would have been really beautiful, but not on this rainy day. With its seaside cafes, bars, pubs, and out door restaurants it would be a great afternoon in the sunshine, but our weather was just miserable. Rainy is an understatement. It poured; it just absolutely pissed down on us from the time we got out of the car until we got home, which was about five hours. I’ve never been so wet in my life, and this is with an umbrella and a waterproof jacket! I think I manage to stay drier in the shower than I did on this trip. Situated by Mermaid Quay is a giant brown slug of an opera house. The builders wanted to build completely out of Welsh materials, which consists of copper and slate, so while the architecture is pretty interesting, its not the most brilliantly colored building in the world.

We moved on closer to the center of Cardiff, and saw Millennium Stadium, which may be the largest stadium in all of Britain. Over New Year’s Eve, they have a bar that runs the entire pitch and they throw a gigantic party inside. Situated along a river, it’s normally a pretty scenic area for photos and stuff, but today everything was just gray and nasty. All of poor Ross’s plans were going straight down the crapper. This was supposed to be his big victory over the hated English: take the Yanks down to sunny Wales and convert them, but everything seemed to be going wrong. Despite what Ross thinks, we actually had a really good time.

We trudged through some flooding parks on the way to Cardiff castle, which freakishly juts out of the modern skyline. The castle was pretty cool; although it’s not hard to see how the English sacked the city, a crappy little moat was their whole defense. Considering how England/Britain went on to conquer a good sized portion of the globe, poor little Wales with its massive border right next to England didn’t really stand much of a chance. We climbed to the top of the castle, slipping along some stones and me banging my head on the ceiling a couple of times (Welsh must not have been very tall back then), and got a decent view of the city.

We warmed up in a little pub afterwards, and just as we dried off it was time to head back outside in the downpour. Cardiff, and maybe I’m wrong, but I think all of Wales as well, is extremely patriotic. They love their country. I thought Americans were the only ones who made hats, towels, shirts, and boxers out of their flag, but it seems the Welsh have caught on to the idea as well. They simply love being Welsh. And they love hating the English. Well some more than others of course, but there always seems to be some underlying resentment.

Cardiff by the way, has the more green space and parks than any other city in Britain, so even though you’re in a big city (about half a million, slightly bigger than Manchester) there is still plenty of nature. I felt much safer walking around Cardiff than Manchester, but that may just be a false sense of security. I didn’t see any homeless people in my entire trip there, as compared to the five I saw in about 10 minutes on the way home from the train station back in Manchester. I also didn’t have the feeling that I was sucking down smoggy pollutants with every breath, I think being closer to the sea helps with that.

Later, back on the farm, we decided to take a late night 4x4 ride to the local farmers pub known as “The Bog”, because that’s where it’s situated. More than one horse has been stuck in the mud on the way to the pub. Ross started up the little quad and we all crammed on (its meant for one), and he whisked us over bumpy rocks, dodging confused sheep, up over grassy hills, and through flooded valleys with water up past our knees. We had to spit bugs and mud out of our teeth the whole ride. How he knew the route I’ll never know; everything was pitch black except for the short area in front of the old ride’s headlight. We parked the 4x4 up at the top of a muddy hill so no one would steal it, and then we slipped, tripped, and skidded the entire 100 yards down.

We walked in absolutely caked in mud and got more than a few strange looks from the regulars. The pub is a classic meeting spot for farmers and hunters and the walls are covered in antlers, foxtails, rifles, steins, signaling horns, paintings of hounds and pictures of the yearly fox hunts. The place is a proper Welsh setting. Ross and I worked through every variation of Brains they had, Brains being the famous Welsh ale brewed locally in Cardiff. Ohhhh, that stuff is beautiful. Homer Simpson is to Duff Beer, as Greg Maruzzella is to Brains. Smooth, creamy, and dark; its perfect. Even Megan likes it and she hates beer. They had Brains Dark, which is like Guinness only not as bitter, Brains Smooth (the standard stuff), and Brains SA, which is like the smooth only colder. I’m going to have to have this stuff specially imported when I get home.

After a couple of hairpin turns on the 4x4, floating through some small ponds, and navigating our way through thick fog we arrived back on the farm safe and sound, without running any over sheep. This weekend marks his mum and dad’s birthdays so we had a little gift exchange and a toast of champagne before heading to bed. Ross has nothing to worry about; I do love Wales.

March 26th
Oooh! Had cereal for breakfast! Shouldn’t be as exciting as it is, but we’ve stopped buying big things of milk because they just get stolen and we can’t ever have cereal back at the dorm. I will enjoy some Cheerios when I get home.

Today Ross decided to take us out in the woods for some target shooting. Kind of ironic as this will be the first time I’ve ever shot something, and I’m from America which all the Brits love to remind me is supposedly the gun capital of the world (I’m thinking its Iraq, but whatever). Ross’s Dad has a massive sniper rifle they shoot right out the window whenever they see a fox in their sheep pasture, but as it’s a little too powerful we couldn’t take it out. Damn.

So we took a 12 gauge shot gun, a small 22 rifle, and a giant pub umbrella in a feeble attempt to keep ourselves dry, and hiked to Ross’s shooting spot. And hike we did: through a sheep pasture, slipping down muddy hills, over and under barbed wire fences, through a creek in our giant waders, and through a thorny patch and we finally made it. That shotgun gets pretty heavy when you’re marching through the woods in the pissing down rain. We set up some juice boxes and bottles about 40 – 50 yards away in the side of a cliff (so we wouldn’t hit anything behind the targets). Then I proceeded to slide all the way back down the cliff on my hands and knees, much to everyone else’s amusement.

Ross showed us how everything works and how to shoot, aim, etc. He’s been doing this a long time and really knows his stuff. Its not like we just grabbed some guns and started blasting away. Just as I was getting the hang of the 22, it jammed and we switched over to the shotgun. And what a switch too! The 22 is like shooting a BB gun, while you’ve really got work to keep the shotgun under control and from kicking into your shoulder. And we were just absolutely covered in rain, leaves, and mud. This trip has made my waterproof jacket worth every penny.

I used to think Megan just got lucky with the bow and arrow in Sherwood Forest, but I’m beginning to realize that maybe she’s actually good at it. She blasted those boxes right off the cliff! I’m pretty sure she’s better than me at least, but that may not be saying very much. I really enjoyed the shooting, and I’d like to try again and get better at it. Maybe they have shooting as a PE at ECU.

Ross’s Dad cooked us the Welsh version of Sunday dinner, which consisted of boiled potatoes, peas, and ham all covered in parsley sauce. For dinner we had some apricot jelly (British version of Jell-O), which his parents have been pushing on all of us since we arrived. They apparently need to get rid of some apricots.

Almost missed our train because some cows jumped in front of us on Ross’s driveway and of course would not get out of the way. Stupid cows. But fortunately, thanks to some more high speed driving, we made the train on time. It was a really great trip, and I can’t thank Ross and his family enough; they were most gracious and kind. Now I keep finding myself day dreaming about farm life…

March 27th
After staying up until 3am studying last night I felt surprisingly refreshed this morning. My plants and medicine exam was exactly what I expected and I feel pretty confident about getting a good grade. I mean all I have to do is get 50% right. A blindfolded monkey is bound to get around 25%, so I should have a decent shot. The essay prompt was on how plant substances, called phytochemicals, are beneficial to human health so I got to write for ages on blueberries, green tea, and red wine, some of my favorite things! The unit coordinator even pulled me aside and told me what a refreshing pleasure I was to have in the class because my writing style and presentations were so much more in depth and advanced than the other students! Whoa, I wasn’t expecting that one!

I had to wait in line for about a half hour my Art, Ideology, and Propaganda essay grade. As my entire grade for the class rests on these thirteen pages I was more than a little nervous. I didn’t imagine just failure alone, but also being “court-martialed” for my improper citations and charged with plagiarism. It was a long and stressful wait to say the least. However, it was all for naught. I got a 62, which is a B here and my lecturer said that was a pretty high mark for the way he grades. I was quite pleased. Two classes successfully completed and done with!

Cooked up some smoked cod on the griller tonight and it was all right although a tad bony. We’re trying to have more fish as its pretty good for you. After setting the clocks back Sunday, it was still light around 8 when we were eating dinner so my system is kind of screwy right now.

Ok, now a long night of essay typing. I figure if I can type around 1,000 words a day I can get this paper started and finished by Thursday at 3. Not the best of plans, sure, but it’ll get the job done. I feel a lot less pressure after learning that I did well in the Art class. After Thursday I can finish my last physiology practical and study for that final for next week. Hooray for procrastination.

March 28th

After settling down for a long night of studying last night, Maija, one of the Finns came by and we exchanged all of our pictures. With hundreds of pictures between us this took about 2 hours. I still managed to type about 600 words before falling asleep.

Worked, worked, and worked all day on this paper and I’ve made pretty good progress. About 1900 words so far, so it seems to be coming together nicely. I feel a little bit of pressure off my back with each word on I type on the page.

Another ASDA trip this week. Picked up some salmon steaks that I’m determined to make Megan enjoy. Also picked up something called Toad In The Hole, which I know sounds pretty odd, but its basically the British version of Pigs In A Blanket (which now that I think about it sounds pretty weird itself.) Instead of a little hot dog you have a sausage (the toad I guess), and its baked into nice, fluffy, Yorkshire pudding dough instead of a crescent roll. Now every time I go I see another British food I want to try, another wine to drink, another dish to cook, and I just feel this enormous rush to get things done, but I know I can’t do everything. At least I can still cook at home, and I can drink in about 6 months so it won’t be too difficult to get used to . . .at least that’s what I hope.

Got an Easter package from the family today! This time all the family signed the card, which is a nice bonus. The package was filled with delicious Easter candy inside an Easter basket, some tea, my sister’s very pretty senior pictures, some local comic strips, and all the Duke ACC and NCAA tournament clippings they could find. It was so nice! I kinda have a beef with the massive box of lucky charms and the ranch dressing Mom stuffed in there because we still have about 2 pounds of Lucky Charms and 2 massive bottles of ranch dressing from when Lauren came. And we didn’t even want those, they were for the Brits. I was kinda hoping for some more homemade treats, but I guess Mom got her wires crossed somewhere and thought we had massive cravings for ranch dressing and some magically delicious cereal. But that’s ok, its still a really great package (THANKS GUYS!) and it really brightened my boring, essay filled day.

Then as if this weren’t enough treats for the day, the Finns totally surprised Megan and I with presents! They’re leaving on trips pretty soon, so our last day in the big group is tomorrow. They did a little British collage for me with stuff like Guinness, Man. City, pubs, and things like that, and I also got a specially made “I “Heart” Britain” shirt, some Finnish chocolate, and those special cinnamon rolls the Finns make. What did we get them? Well…nothing…nothing yet anyways. We’ve been planning to get them some stuff, but its been pretty busy recently so we just haven’t yet. Its always so awkward when you get a present and have nothing for that person, its hard to balance delight with the present and shame on yourself.

Anyways, being the sweet chicks that they are, the Finns didn’t seem to care about their lack of presents and we went out to dinner at The Dutch Pancake House! It was fantastic. I got a massive seafood pancake, which was basically a giant crepe filled with prawns, tuna, mussels, green peppers, mushrooms, tomatoes, and onions. I had a craving for the traditional bacon and syrupy pancakes, but I decided to try something new as I can get those all the time at home. Afterwards we went to The Pub and had a celebratory pint. Although they haven’t exactly left yet, I already miss the Finns, and I hope that we can keep in touch and remain good friends.

March 29th
Wait…so Wale is not a country? So I’m going around all happy about going to Wales, now I’ve been to two countries, blah, blah, blah, and Megan, Ms. I’m a Super Duper Politics Major, tells me last night Wales isn’t a country. England’s not even a country. And not Scotland, and certainly not Northern Ireland. Nope, not a one. Apparently the country is Great Britain, and these are mere nations. I know that they all work together as Great Britain for defense, economics, law, etc, but I was still pretty sure they were there own separate countries. I mean Wales has its own language, laws, flag, capital, and what not so I thought it was its own country, but like Megan said, the American states have all those things, but they’re not separate countries, just states. Well I thought that was pretty lame, and it makes me sad, because I thought I was going to different countries. Bollocks, way to kill a dream Megan! I’ll have to get some locals to weigh in on this debate. I bet she wouldn’t tell those Welsh farmers in the hunting pub Wales isn’t a country!

March 30th
Turned in my essay today!!! Here you have to return things in to the receipting office, and they get it in to the professors. Its kind of a stupid system because it results in a lot of unnecessary paperwork and really long lines. Good thing I turned my paper in early; only a couple of hours later the other 1855 students (true, it was posted) turned their papers in at the same time, and the line went down the stairs and out the building. But, at least you don’t have professors losing your papers and then blaming you for not turning it in and getting a zero. Perhaps if they could combine the two systems…

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Week 10, kinda sorta [16 Mar 2006|03:41pm]
[ mood | hopeful ]

Okay, so here’s a little short entry to get us back to our weekly Thursday update routine. This makes 10 weeks here in Manchester, with only 35 days left. I can’t believe it! Google the Gilman Scholarship if you’re interested in financial aid for studying abroad, its worth the 20 seconds of your life it takes to do it.

March 14th

Well I don’t think we’ll be going to the Wales-France Rugby game this weekend like we had planned. Instead of abandoning their miserably failing team like we had planned, the Welsh have decided to rally around their rugby squad for the last game. I was certain we were going after I read the Welsh booed their own team off the field with last weekends draw to Italy. Well since we’re not going to Wales, maybe we can get everyone together for a St. Patrick’s Day party. I want one of those Guinness Party Hats! Hopefully we can get down to Cardiff with Ross at another time.

It was a bit warmer today and it seems to be staying lighter longer now, so I walked to and from uni. I’m just fed up with buses passing me by that are so crowded they can’t even stop to let us on. It stresses me out, wastes my time, and its just not worth the hassle. About 4 buses passed me today that could’ve dropped me off. I walked home in the amount of time I would’ve spent sitting at the bus stop in the rain, so the mile and half was worth it. At least I got some exercise.

I wanted to treat myself to a Cadbury Cream Egg McFlurry at McDonald’s today. Not the most nutritious snack I know, but now whenever I want something that’s not good for me (like the Cadbury McFlurry), or do something when I should be doing something else, (like, oh…schoolwork), I just tell myself that its part of the “British experience” and that’s what I’m here for and so I go for it. This may not be the best system, but it sure is a lot of fun. So, anyways, I waited about 15 damn minutes to get one of these Cream Egg McFlurries, and once you wait that long you pretty much know that they are never ever going to have what you want once you get up there. They of course did not have Cadbury Crème Egg McFlurries (which I had prepared myself for), so I got a Crunch Bar McFlurry instead because that was just as British and just as good.


March 15th

Not much going on today except I learned that Guinness is good for you. No joke. Ramsay told me this, but I refused to believe him as he is constantly pulling stuff like this, but I looked into it and it really is true. Apparently Guinness is filled with anti-oxidants that normal lagers lack; antioxidants are the things in green tea, blueberries, and red wine that you commonly here people raving about. It is also filled with so much iron that it is still common practice in Ireland for patients in post-operative recovery to be served a pint of Guinness. They also used to advise pregnant women to drink a pint a day if they became anemic, but this practice was soon stopped once people caught on to Fetal Alcohol Syndrome. Don’t be afraid to drink up this St. Patrick’s Day; a pint a day keeps the doctor away.

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week 9 and some extra [14 Mar 2006|05:14pm]
[ mood | happy ]

Apologies for not getting week 9 up here on time, its been a very busy week over here. Only a little over a month left here, so the rush to do and see as much as possible is on now. Remember to check out the Gilman Foundation for study abroad financial aid.

March 2nd

Went to the hospital with my lecturer today to set up my observations and that was really great. Its nice to do something that is directly applicable to my major and future.

Manchester Royal Infirmary, MRI, is a 1000 bed hospital, which in the UK makes it quite a large medical center, but that would be almost miniscule in the states. Today was just my intro day, so I didn’t actually do anything but set up what I could see in the future. Hopefully, I’ll be following a patient all the way from open-heart surgery (yeah, right there in the operating room!), through intensive care, to recovery, and so on. I might even get to go to stroke recovery and see work with nurses and physical therapists.

I will probably get to see some acute emergency action as well. Here most of the emergencies are alcohol related, particularly on Friday and Saturday nights, I guess that might be the same in the states as well. They see about 4 or 5 gunshot wounds a week, which I think is quite a lot for a country where firearms are illegal. The British SAS (Special Air Service) even come to MRI to get emergency combat training. These guys are like our Navy SEAL’s, they could probably kill me 57 ways with their pinky finger, and they come here, (To MANCHESTER!), to get in on gunshot wounds, stabbings, etc. They aren’t even officially known as SAS, just every month or so a group of about 8 very large, very muscular, mustachioed, mysterious “clinical observers” drop by to see whats going on. I don’t know if that says a lot about the violence in Manchester, or just how good the hospital is, but either way, I’m impressed.

Learned a lot about the National Health Service here as well. The main difference between the states and British NHS is that we pay for our medical (through insurance or whatever), and the Brits get it free. Well the government claims its free, but my lecturer pays about 1,000 pounds a month (A MONTH!) for this “free” benefit. And because its paid for by the government and what not, it takes an extremely long time to be seen by a physician and treated for any long term problem. You can go to your general family practitioner without any problems, but if you need a tumor looked at by a specialist you may be waiting about 3-6 months for a simple scan.

For instance, my lecturer’s father was having problems with his prostate. His prostate gland swelled up, and this cuts off the flow of urine from the bladder to the urethra and prevents you from having a pee. After a day of this, you can imagine how painful it gets. So the father goes to a hospital, after a day of not peeing and in pain, and has to wait six hours to get a catheter put in. Sure, you’d find this in the states, but only in really bad hospitals. Then, they sent him home, with the catheter, but without any instructions as how to care for it. He waits 7 weeks, 7 WEEKS, to be seen by a physician about the actual problem with his prostate! So, for seven weeks, this guy’s prostate is swelling with what could be cancer (which needs to be caught EARLY), and with a catheter, which is just perfect for infection and a whole list of other problems, before his doctor is actually trying to solve the problem. It seems like NHS is just shooting itself in the foot; their patients could get sicker, or even die from waiting so long for treatment. In the states I think this guy would have had surgery or treatment within the week if not a matter of days. Its just absurd to me. Lesson: Don’t get sick in Britain.

We cooked our haggis tonight, and it was awesome! Sure, it may be boiled sheep brains, intestines, and other miscellaneous parts, but it was delicious. It was like a very tender sausage that would fall apart whenever you touched it. Had it with some mushy peas (peas that are mashed up like baby food, pretty self explanatory and a very British item), and a baked potato. If you ever find yourself around a haggis, you should definitely take the rare opportunity to try some, you won’t regret it.

March 3rd

Today Megan’s friend, Lauren, arrived to come visit us for her spring break. Why she left the beautiful spring weather of NC for here and not Cancun or Florida or something I don’t quite understand, but we’re glad to have her.

She caught the train from the airport to Oxford Road, and I was kind of nervous she’d end up in Liverpool or something, but she’s a smart chick and figured it out all on her own. We got her sorted with a bus pass, and a hot cup of tea after her long plane ride.

Went to the Man. City stadium to get match tickets for the game Sunday vs. Sunderland. Sunderland is at the bottom of the league, so even thought it’s a guaranteed City win, I hope its kind of exciting. Marcus and the Fins are coming with us, and I’m really excited to experience my first British football match. Hopefully the crowd will be singing and chanting and the atmosphere will be nuts.

Lauren brought in four pounds of Lucky Charms cereal in with her to share with the Brits. Apparently they all fell in love with it, and now it is discontinued here, so they are all going through a little withdrawal. She also brought in some Hershey’s chocolate, and ranch dressing. We must’ve had about 7 people singing God Bless America after we made the rounds with our treats.

Walking back from ASDA today it started to snow. Like really, really snow. I was soaked, and everything outside was coated in a fine powdery white. It was so beautiful to see the undisturbed park completely covered in bleach white snow. The English houses look especially scenic in under a dusting. Its still on the ground now, at least an inch of it if not more.

Who’s ready for school? Laura is! Who’s going to the extremely hard to get into NC State School of Art and Design? LAURA IS!!!! YEAH!!! Congrats to her, my sister is awesome.

Well, gotta get some rest for our trip to Blackpool tomorrow. Not exactly sure what we’re doing there, but we should have a pretty large group going so it should be fun. Groooooooooodnite!

March 4th

Last night turned out to be pretty interesting. I had a drunken Liverpudlian, Andy, wander randomly into my room around 1am. He was just “looking for some love”, as he put it. Every drunken person gets pretty annoying after a while, but it takes Andy it little longer than most so I let him hang around for a bit. So for about 15 minutes he told me how much he loved me, and I’m such a nice guy, and God Bless America and all that jazz. Then he hugged me for a bit, which was pretty weird because I’m in my towel ready to shower. Then he got Megan and we had a group hug, which was slightly less weird, but we managed to turn him loose on someone else and went to bed.

Woke up and everything was absolutely covered in pure white snow. It was really pretty, although we worried about our beach trip to Blackpool. Instead of the green pastures of previous trips, everything was covered in beautiful untouched snow.

Blackpool is a seaside town on the west coast of England, about an hour north of Manchester. Its kind of like Myrtle Beach for England; a very touristy, almost tacky, but really fun kind of place. There is a really lovely stretch of beach, and the town has a great Promenade walk along side it. Along the Promenade there are three piers jutting out into the ocean, and on the city side there is nothing but hotels, chippies, fish places, and “amusements”. Amusements are places with cheap little games like skee ball, snooker, pool, and other carnival type games; they’re like small Celebration Stations or Chucky Cheeses. Blackpool is also like the capital of “Stag and Hen” parties, what we call bachelorette and bachelor parties back in the states, so you may come across the odd strip club, lollipops resembling certain parts of the human anatomy, and drunken revelers dressed in ridiculous costumes. In some way or another, everyone in Blackpool is looking to have a good time.

The first thing we did in Blackpool was have a snowball fight right along side the shore. I had never been on a beach all bundled up in a coat, gloves, and scarf, much less with snow all around, so this was quite an experience. My eyes didn’t quite believe what I was experiencing; I see the sunshine and ocean so I think of warm summer vacations, but I also see snow and have a bone chilling wind creeping up my spine, so the brain just kind of short circuits for a while until it all registers. By this time the sun had come out and with a crystal clear blue sky everything was so bright. I could hardly see anything with the sun reflecting off both the snow and the ocean. It was really a once in a lifetime kind of thing.

We walked about a mile along the Promenade after that into town. Stopped at a couple of amusements and showed the Finns how to play air hockey, and Ramsay showed us some typical British games. Megan even won a stuffed unicorn. We stopped for some fresh out of the sea fish and chips, a Blackpool specialty, which were fantastic. Lauren and the Finns didn’t quite like it, but at least they tried some classic British cuisine. We also got an ice cream cone with a Cadbury Flake bar stuck in the side, our were called “Mr. Whippies” and this is another very British thing so we had to try it. So its freezing cold, there is snow everywhere, and we’re walking along the beach eating ice cream, it was just crazy.

We bought an all day pass (we got some special cheap deal), and spent the rest of the day at Blackpool’s amusement park, Pleasure Beach. The place is enormous and we managed to hit most of the good rides out of the 145 choices available. We pummeled each other in the dodger (bumper) cars, got dizzy on the flying rockets, road “horses” down the Steeple Chase, got a little spooked in the Haunted House, spun round the carousel, screamed like lunatics on The Bobsled, and laughed all the way down the unoriginally named Roller Coaster. I only wish I had gone on the aptly named Big One with Ramsay, Lea, and the Finns. This roller coaster is huge, and takes you on an almost completely vertical drop before zooming around another mile at 87mph. Us Yanks did not make a good impression as all of us wussed out of the opportunity. I had actually hyped myself up to go on it, but we ran out of time before we could all go again. Oh well, if I ever find myself back in Blackpool….

Finished up the day warming up with some chips and pies (steak and kidney is well nice!) and hot tea. I took a solo walk back to the bus by way of the beach just to see the sun set behind a soft pink sky over the deep blue ocean. Now that we’re a little more than halfway through with our trip, leaving each place becomes a bit harder as I realize that I may never be back again. How sad.

Whilst we had everyone together (which is pretty hard to manage these days), we decided to head to the curry mile for dinner. I couldn’t tell you the name of the place if my like depended on it, but I guarantee you the phrase “Ali” is in there somewhere. We ordered popomos, which are traditional Indian appetizers. Popomos ( I think that’s what you call ‘em) are about as big as a tortilla, but flat and crispy like a cracker. You break them up and top them with tomatoes, onions, yogurt sauce, and mango chutney for a delicious starter. I ordered prawn Al-Jalfrezzi, which is a spicy type of curry made with chili peppers; it was served with basmati rice and Nan bread, which is like a giant fluffy pita. They weren’t joking when they put the spicy warning on the menu, this is powerful stuff! Even though my lips were on fire everything was delicious, and it was a great night out.
Indian restaurant: popomos, Nan bread, al jefrezzi, korma, delicious

I’m going to bed as I’ve been having a very active day for about 16 hours now and am rather exhausted.

March 5th

Today was the highly anticipated Man. City match we’d been hoping to go to. Well highly anticipated for us anyways, Man. City played Sunderland and as they are worst in the division I didn’t think much of the fan base would really care.

Man was I wrong. The Man. City supporters came out in droves. I haven’t seen this much Carolina blue (City’s color) since the Dean Dome. They even had extra buses running just for the match. By the way, Man. City are supported mainly by blue collar Mancunians, while their hated cross town rival Man. United are cheered on by upper class folks and foreigners across the world. Personally, I think Man. City is the true blue team of Manchester, whilst United has more of the fair weather fans and less “Manchesterness”.

Our friend Marcus told us to find a pub “where nobody is fighting”, and that he’d come meet us inside. With images of soccer hooligans pummeling us in our heads, nobody really wanted to go inside a pub until he got there, but everything turned out fine. Went into a pub called Mary D’s Beamish Bar it was absolutely packed. I don’t think there was a person in there that didn’t have a City jersey on. Did you watch the World Series a couple of years ago, and they showed the local bars in Boston and the places are absolutely filled to the brim with fans, and beer, and love of the team? Well this place was exactly like that, only this wasn’t the World Series it was just a regular match.

After quickly downing a few pints (so very British), we headed over to the stadium. I was just floored with the amount of people coming out to the game. Droves of people walking out of the surrounding blue collar neighborhoods, cars lined up around the block, and dozens of buses with fans just streaming out of them. Everyone always talks about how the English are passionate about their football, but it’s so different to actually see it in person. I felt like a part of something much larger than myself, this seemed to even eclipse football; it seemed almost like a mass movement of the people.

The game was awesome, even for us lot who know next to nothing about City or even football. The atmosphere was amazing. I got pretty into the “GO ON CITY!” chant, although I couldn’t quite make out the rest. The sound of 42,000 plus singing and chanting will get you excited about almost anything. GO ON CITY! I was really hyped for the crowd to sing Blue Moon, although they never busted it out. It got kind of hairy at the end, but City pulled out a 2-1 victory. Yeah, quick, back to the pub!

This time we ended up in another pub called The Manchester, and although it wasn’t exactly a nice place, it was well suited to the working class atmosphere we were in. Drink of the day was Boddington’s, the proper Mancunian’s beer. After that we went right next door to the City Chippy where I discovered another joy of England, chips and gravy.

It was really great day, and I’m so glad Marcus came out to show us around or we would’ve missed out on a lot. GO ON CITY!

March 6th

To be perfectly honest, absolutely nothing worth writing about happened today. Sorry.

March 7th
Tonight Megan, Lauren, and I went to a play at the Manchester Royal Exchange Theater. From the abundance of Roman columns, marble floors, crystal chandeliers, and pricey artwork you’d never know that the building was once used for cotton trading and dealing. I believe it was bombed out once (the IRA I think), and then they renovated it into the theater it is today. The stage is a 7 sided, circular (even though circles don’t have sides) kind of structure. A play like this is apparently called “in the round”, by in the know theater folks. All though you lose a lot of the setting and props, the audience has unobstructed 360 degree views of the stage. The audience is also much closer, I felt like I was practically sitting on stage with the actors!

The play was called A Whistle in the Dark, and playwright Tom Murphy wrote it in the 1950’s. Its about an alcohol fueled, raging violent Irish family that has immigrated to England. This was a great play to see “in the round” because it the violence and action is so much more grisly when its right there on top of you. When one the character shatters a whisky bottle over the head of another some glass shards landed in my lap! I thought the play was fantastic, and after watching all these fighting Irish folks I left with a craving for Guinness.

I’d put off writing up a lab I’ve had for about 6 weeks so I stayed up until about 4am that night starting and finishing the entire job. Lovely Megan even helped me out with the standard deviations, and we ordered some greasy take-away to power us through the night and early morning. Although its taken some getting used to, now I think I’m getting the hang of this “slacker” or “bad” student deal. It’s a lot easier aiming for C’s instead of A’s. Hopefully I can get out of this system by the time fall semester rolls around and my grades actually matter again.

March 8th

Saw a Ford Mustang over here, and I just about shat myself. In America this is now big deal, but they don’t even know what they are, much less produce and sell them. It was really strange to see a car with the driver on the left hand side over here.

Had a packet of beef and onion crisps and a Ribena juice box for lunch. Ribena makes black currant juice, which is immensely popular over here. The Brits have black currant juice, squash, jam, cookies, candies, sodas, biscuits, tea, EVERYTHING! They must grow these berries with a special cocaine additive, because these guys are hooked. Interesting fact: 95% of all black currants in the UK become Ribena black currant juice, and “that’s just too many berries to shake a stick at”. Sorry, I read that off the juice box and its just stuck with me some how. Wish I could remember something useful instead.

We took Lauren out to The Pub for a classic British setting to have few pints in. I don’t think she was much impressed, but that’s ok, I got my Guinness fix in. I’m really going to miss the pub scene back in America; even here, bars just aren’t the same.

March 9th
Today we went to Liverpool, the first big trip we’ve planned on our own. Liverpool is only about an hour west of Manchester, so its not a far trip at all. Supposedly Scousers (Liverpudlians) and Mancs really hate each other, so we took care not to wear any of our Man. City gear out today.

The three of us were dropped off at the bus station and were immediately filled with an enormous sense of “Where the hell are we?” The Liverpool Football Club anthem is “You’ll Never Walk Alone”, but we sure as hell were and it was kind of scary for a while. Although we got lost for a bit, we didn’t panic, and used our handy little map and some trustworthy looking locals for directions. Personally I like asking old people because they I am pretty sure the old guy with a cane isn’t going to mug me once he realizes I’m a gullible tourist, likely with a passport and lots of money to steal. With a little help, we quickly found our way to the main (and nicer) part of town.

Liverpool is a city with a lot of pride and a lot of culture; even I noticed this after about an hour’s time there. For this reason they are being made into something along the lines of a “European Capital of Culture” in 2008. I’m not sure exactly what that entails, but I do know that it means there is loads of stuff to do there. There are loads of museums and theater, city tours, ferry rides along the River Mersey, and all kind of pubs and clubs along a riverside area called Albert Dock. There is always fun to be had in Liverpool.

Liverpool is also the home of The Beatles, and the Magical Mystery Tour was our main event of the day. A psychedelic bus takes you all around Liverpool showing you Beatles attractions like Strawberry Fields, the church where Paul wasn’t allowed in the choir, Penny Lane, and all the Beatles’ former homes. You get to walk around for a lot of it as well and of course take lots of cheesy, touristy pictures. They tell you interesting stories and anecdotes along the way as well. The tour stops at the famed Cavern Club, where the Beatles were discovered and put on the road to stardom. We went inside and had a pint or two, and saw the very stage where they first played their songs.

We went into a pub for a quick cheap dinner and I ordered the steak and ale pie (these Brits and their pies!) with peas, and chips, all of course covered in gravy. It was really nice, but kind of odd.

We made our way to the bus station with plenty of time. However, the only bus in the station was headed toward Leeds. Well we just figured the Manchester bus was late, and we waited, and waited…and waited. Finally I asked the guy where the heck our bus was and he said “That’s it right there, pulling away.” Well it was the Leeds bus pulling away, but as it was headed down the road I didn’t really have time to argue with him. I managed to flag him down and he kindly let us on which he wasn’t technically allowed to do. Apparently, the Manchester station is a stop along the way to Leeds; no one decided to inform us of this! No boarding announcement, no sign, no nothing! Imagine if I hadn’t asked that guy! The ticket counter was shut down, and we’d have been stuck in Liverpool the entire night, and with Lauren flying out first thing in the morning!! Man, that was a little too close for my liking.

March 10th

Lauren left us today so I hope she enjoyed her time here. With a trip to Blackpool, a proper football match, a few pub drinking sessions, a classic Irish drama, a shopping spree, and a trip to Liverpool, she can at least say it was eventful.

The director of A Whistle in the Dark came to our drama class today to share some insights and thoughts with the group, which was really cool. I’m really glad we did go see the play because he said that it is only performed about once every ten years, and people may never again see it in a setting like The Royal Exchange. Hooray culture!

Had some chips smothered in mushy peas from Potato Man today. I will never be able to have normal peas again, no, now I’ve gotta squish them up into a baby food like consistency. Everyone’s just going to think I’m a freak now.

I took a four-hour nap immediately upon getting back from uni. After a hectic week like we just had, I felt it was pretty well deserved. Nothing like a good long sleep to rejuvenate the system and get you ready for more tomorrow.
SLEEEP!

March 11th

Today I woke up at 7am (on a SATURDAY!) for another international trip to the Lake District. Megan fortunately did manage to get a seat on the bus despite not buying here ticket on time. Unfortunately, we sat next to the group of Italians. Nothing personal against the Italians but (as I should’ve guessed from my own family experiences) these guys are LOUD! They shouted, screamed, shrieked, and sang the entire 3-hour drive!!! Thankfully, we arrived just as the group finished up the third rendition of Bon Jovi in broken English (Uuhhhh Ohhhh, Liiiiiiiiiivvvvvvvvvviinnggg On Praaaaaaaaaaaayeeer! )

Our first stop of the day was at a place called Aira Force. Here there is a 5-mile circular trail that winds its way through the mountainous countryside, and up and over the waterfalls that give the area its name (force being the ancient Norse word for waterfall). About a mile in was Aira Force, the main attraction because it is the easiest walk, and the most impressive with the water pouring down a 70-foot drop. I took some really beautiful pictures (whenever my fellow tourists weren’t walking into the shots!), and then we kept moving to stay ahead of the minstrel Italians, who by now had moved on to destroying some classic Aretha Franklin. Here’s a thought guys: If you can’t properly spell “Respect”, perhaps you shouldn’t sing the song!

About another mile of steep climbing over slippery moss covered rocks we reached the second “attraction” called High Force, which was another waterfall. This time we were higher up and could look down on the green English countryside shrouded in gray clouds and fog.

We hustled back down the mountain to the bus, and then we drove another hour to a Lake District village called Ambleside. This time the singers stuck to their own music, which was nice because at least I couldn’t tell they were butchering the song.

At Ambleside Megan and I headed straight for a lakeside café and ordered a massive, English breakfast and a pot of tea. I know the town lives off of tourism, but they must really start to hate it when you get people like me in there asking “Hey, are y’all still serving your all day breakfast?” That’s like going in the dollar store and asking how much everything is! Anyways, with 2 fried eggs, local Cumberland sausage, bacon, and beans on toast all covered in brown sauce, I could almost feel my arteries start to clot, but it was delicious and the warm meal was just what I needed on this cold, drizzly day. I think the English toss in a tomato just to make them feel a bit healthier.

Well we quickly discovered there really isn’t much to do in Ambleside. We walked around through winding roads, and then over some muddy paths looking for the famed Roman ruins of Ambleside, but all we found was a massive ditch in the ground. Oh, wait; that piece of crap, hole in the ground IS the famed Roman ruins of Ambleside! Apparently it was a massive fort that held about 500 soldiers in it's heyday, but now all we get is a damned hole. I wasn’t expecting the coliseum or anything but a wall would’ve been nice. Maybe a stone or two. But a hole? I can dig a damned hole! The worst part was we couldn’t even hike back and warm up with another pot of tea because the entire town shuts down a 4. So we hung around on the pier, with the ducks, and we all froze our butts off together until the bus was ready to leave. We all slept on the way back home as well, even our singing troupe.

Later that night I met up with the rest of the old ECU crew and some new friends over at Ross’s. Megan was invited, but she refuses to come out for the rest of the term as she has about 12,000 words to write in 3 weeks for her classes. We went to this place called Satan’s Hollow, is someplace I never thought I’d find myself going. Well, I expected loads of Goth type people, and lots of piercings through lots of body parts, and probably someone biting the head off a bat or a human sacrifice or something but it was a really cool place. It was cheap to get in, and the drinks were even cheaper inside. They played all kinds of cool British music like The Arctic Monkeys, Oasis, Franz Ferdinand, and the Kaiser Chiefs; not exactly the heavy death metal I expected. And then, somehow, we found ourselves in a mosh pit. And, lo and behold, it was AWESOME!!! I never really saw the point of jumping in there and shoving everyone around, but it was really fun. And if you fall down, they pick you right back up, so there was lots of love as well. We managed to pick one of our mates up for some crowd surfing, but as soon as the DJ cut off the music the crowd instantly forgot about him and he plummeted to the dance floor. (Woooo, YEEEEAHHHH…. Plop!)

At the 3am, after a heavy night of dancing, or drinking, or whatever, there is nothing like a fresh, hot kebab. Oh, I need to learn how to make those before I leave here. I even hailed my own cab like a professional and was home safe and sound, so no worries. I think I may have been the latest person back that night, which is really impressive considering the party people in this dorm.

March 12th

Today I dragged my aching bones out of bed for the Irish Festival. I could’ve slept all day, but this is supposed to be one of the premier Irish celebrations in Britain, so I had to check it out.

And what horrible weather too. Megan, a Finn, and me trudged through snow and sleet all the way down to Albert’s square for the festivities. At first I didn’t think anything was worth being stung in the face by pellets of sleet, but I toughed it out and I’m really glad I did. There were tents filled with Irish trinkets, candy, shamrocks, books, music, anything under the sun that was Irish or that could at least have with a leprechaun or shamrock painted on it. There was a stage with Irish folk singers and dancers, and on the steps of the Catholic Church there was an Irish children’s choir performing. And Guinness, Guinness, Guinness everywhere. Drinking Guinness, Guinness hats, even people dressed as pints of Guinness. It was crazy. I’ve heard that if you drink 5 pints of Guinness on St. Patrick’s day you get one of these giant Guinness hats, so I’ll have to try and remember that later this week.

I warmed myself with an Irish roast beef sandwich, and we moved over to watch the parade. I’m not normally one for parades, but this was pretty cool for some reason. There had to be over 40 hand made floats, bag pipers, footballers, cricket players (cricketers?), and even Shetland ponies and donkeys. Basically, if you could wave the red, white, and green, you could get in this parade.

The best part of the day was this Irish cover band we discovered inside the O’shea's Pub tent. They weren’t exactly traditional Irish folk music, but they put a nice Irish spin on lots of familiar tunes. The fiddler was absolutely amazing; I don’t think he stopped dancing about the entire performance! They captivated the entire tent of about 300 people, and the entire place was clapping and singing along to all the songs they knew. Megan and I got a pretty big kick out of Sweet Home Alabama, which became close enough to home for us. They played so well that I managed to forget about the sleet pelting me in face for most of the way home.

Later that night Megan and I made pasta with Mediterranean pesto and some freshly chopped tomatoes and grated cheese. We have a basic line up of about 10 meals, so it was good to discover something new and spice up the system a little. After dinner I fell fast asleep from about 8 to 1am, which is not such a good thing because I have this deal to type up here, and a presentation to rehearse for tomorrow morning. I am so tired. I need a couple of days with absolutely nothing going on so I can catch up on some much needed rest.

Remember how I thought I was really cool for being the last one in the dorm last night? Well I’m not, and I wasn’t. My friend down the hall was in Liverpool, him and his mates got really wasted and then hitched a ride on a passing train, stowed away under a box all the way back to Manchester for some more partying. That’s just flat out impressive.

March 13th

Wow, my last week of lectures in my plants and medicine class! This “semester” is really winding up fast. I have one final essay due, and my two final exams in a matter of weeks. At least I can be happy about the schoolwork going by fast.

My friend down the hall, Andy, has managed to stay drunk for about 3 days now. Detrimental to his liver it may be, but its helped me out quite a bit. He just keeps coming by and giving me stuff! Pizza, curry, cd’s, but I’ve gotta admit the hugs are getting kind of weird. He dropped off his entire cd collection just now so I’ve spent the past two hours copying stuff like The Kinks, The Beatles, Bob Dylan, Johnny Cash,David Bowie, The Yardbirds, and all kinds of cool stuff. Wonder what I’ll get tomorrow…if he doesn’t die that is.

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week eight [02 Mar 2006|10:40am]
[ mood | rejuvenated ]

Week 8 is here and gone. February 23rd - March 1st. Ask your financial aid advisor about the Gilman Scholarship for study abroad today!

February 23rd

Hey, hey. Now when I run, the cold air doesn’t set my lungs on fire. Making progress…

Megan and I did spend a good hour or two planning trips today. I will fill you in on them once they become official, but right now the plans look like: Bath, Salisbury, mainly as a staging point for Stonehenge, Birmingham, and Castleton in Peak District for some hiking. Then up to Kilmars, Glasgow, and maybe even Inverness and Loch ness in Scotland. And possibly fly over to Ireland for two days. These and all the other trips with the international people makes for quite a lot of traveling in the final 2 weeks. AND, we seem to have left out London, but I’m beginning to think London may just require a trip of its own one day. Maybe around the 2012 Olympics…

My Mom called me today, but not to say how much she missed me, rather to inform me that Pizza Hut charged me for $469!!! Now, I like pizza as much as the next guy, but this is a little extreme. I’m only including this because if you are thinking about studying abroad, one of the most helpful things for me is to have my parents in on my account so that they could clear up any little mishaps, and let me know what my balance is and all that while I’m away. A joint account with someone you trust saves you all the hassle of trying to work with the bank over the phone (with very expensive rates), or through e-mail, which isn’t always the quickest way to get things done. And your money is your lifeline over here, without it you are really screwed. I suggest taking two debit cards with you. Keep the extra incase you lose the first one. Your bank is not here, so you can’t just stroll into one and ask for some cash out of your account.

Booked a tour of the Manchester United stadium and museum today for Saturday. Should be exciting.

I got some of my grades from my plants and medicine course today and I got a 72, and 83, and 90 on my test, essay, and presentation. This is really exciting since an 80% is an A, and personally I only need 50% to get credit at ECU. Not trying to brag (too much anyways), but I was also the highest grade in each category! Go me, representing America. Hopefully this will carry over to my other classes.

Megan and I went into China Town for a nice dinner out. This place called The Great Wall was real