Life as of Late

I have absolutely no excuse for not having updated in such a long time.  Aside from the fact that the weather has been, for the most part, extremely gloomy.  And that I've been avoiding it through hundreds of pages of reading and several hours of film throughout the last two weeks.  Fortunately, a few small happenings here and there have built up since my last post, and I will attempt to make this one as entertaining as it can be.

First off, in perhaps the most exciting news I will report today, is that Leigh Anne, Clem and I purchased our tickets to Dublin, Ireland for St. Patrick's Day!  I am beyond excited -- this is the first major travel aside from Liverpool and London that I will have done so far.  But not to worry, I am planning a route for the month-long break in April and May that includes Amsterdam, Germany, Italy, and Spain!  More on that when I'm more sure of the details.

So, as for outings, there have been few.  Leigh Anne and I have went out a couple of times for dinner and drinks... and rugby!  We finally made our way to The Monument, a pub in town that many people suggest for watching matches.

Not to mention they have a beyond-cute "mascot" dog, Bella Shakespeare:

(Photo courtesy of her very own Facebook page!)

Seeing dogs here always makes me miss my family's back home!  But I digress.  We ordered what came out to be a monstrously large pitcher of cider and black and attempted to keep up with the England vs. Wales match -- which resulted in our deciding that watching rugby matches may quite possibly be as good, if not better than watching American football games in that 1.) The players are doing the same kind of work, without wearing major protection, 2.) There is constant action. When a guy gets hurt, you see the medic working on him in the background while the game continues around him, 3.)  There are no commercials, 4.) The crowd is in constant singing/wave/cheering mode, 5.) Awesome tackles and try landings (touchdowns) are permitted, and 6.) Toby Flood is does the viewer's eyes much good  :)

Bella barked alongside the pub-goers' and match-viewers' cheers when England won after an intense last ten minutes.  Then, we decided to head out with some of the swim team we had run into.  They were going to another bar and then a club.  We made it as far as the line at the club, but deciding we felt too old, too lazy, and too poor to hand over four pounds for a few minutes of dancing to the guy at the door, we turned around and headed for the bus station, making a pit-stop at McDonald's for a cheeseburger fix for Leigh Anne and an ice cream fix for myself (yes, we were those Americans who fit the stereotype well that evening!)

Super Bowl Sunday, I wasn't feeling too well and although a bar on campus was playing the game, it didn't start until 11 p.m. England time -- at which point I was in bed!  I had a few crummy days sleeping off whatever it may have been and getting ahead in my studies.  Which doesn't really count for much now, because I find myself behind again already!

I am working towards a very assignment-filled week at the end of February.  On the 24th, I have an oral presentation for my language course.  On the 25th, I have a 2,500 word essay due for my film course.  On the 28th, I have a 2,500 word essay due for my literature course.  And then I get a break!  Until March 11th, when I have a 2,000 word essay due for the language course.  That's thousands of words to write, millions of words to read, and endless hours sorting it all out.  Fortunately, I get a few days off here and there as "Reading Week" is next week, so I hope to, by that point, only need to tidy up my work and get a little bit of traveling in.

To get away from stressing about my future stress, I took advantage of the beautiful sun and warm weather on Tuesday and made my way into town, where I explored some of the side streets I hadn't been to yet:

The King's English Bookstore - yes, it is really that slanted!

I was so busy admiring the sun and the swans on the River Stour that I almost didn't notice the signs of Spring right under my feet:

I decided to walk back to campus, and take a little detour onto the grounds of Orlando Bloom's old school:

Unfortunately, this was the only gorgeous day out of the week (click here for all of the pictures), as the sun hid away and the drizzle fell, so did my motivation.  I found it so difficult to read the nearly 500 pages of The Moonstone (sorry, Wilkie Collins) that I instead found the audio version online and listened while looking up top European tourist attractions.  I was perked up immediately on Friday, though, in getting to Skype with Demetri, accompanied by his dachshund, Ralph, who I learned can box as well as any human might :)  At the same time, I received an e-mail from mom letting me know that my financial aid for the semester had finally come through!  

Saturday morning, I made an early trip to the library to watch a film for class and to look into some sources (of which I found many) for my essays.  To top it off, I returned to my flat and moments later had a delivery of flowers and truffles come my way.  Thanks to my wonderful mother!  It was a brilliant weekend indeed.

That brings me to today... and although I'm not much for Valentine's Day (thanks to my time at Hallmark), I feel I should give a little shout out to my significant other - who also has a birthday on Friday!

It was almost a year ago that Deme started writing me little notes on folded notebook paper and passing them to me as I clocked out of work and he clocked in.  What started out as a simple "I hope you have a good day" turned into funny drawings, and then silly poems, and then long talks and laughs and love.

  

I don't know many guys who would start dating a girl knowing she's leaving the country in a few months to study abroad because he "thinks she's worth the wait."  I don't know many guys who would convince a girl, last minute, to take a trip to Mexico and drive her to Chicago to get her passport two days before takeoff, or sweet talk an airline representative into giving her a great deal on the flight.  

I don't know many guys who would drive over 50 miles every Friday night after a week of twelve-hour workdays to spend the weekend with his girl, going places and doing things he probably couldn't care less about.

I don't know many guys who would pull off of the interstate immediately after his girlfriend tears up upon seeing a truck full of chickens off to slaughter in order to drive into a Burger King and order two vegetarian burgers, "in honor of the animals" and then suffer his way through the unmanly meatless meal.  Or tell her stories in Spanish when she can't sleep.  Or wake her up after she's fallen asleep just to say "hi."  Or tell her he feels like going out just because she looks beautiful and he wants everyone to see them together.

  

I don't know many guys who can make me laugh, cry, feel inspired, and believe in so much all at once --  even with 4,000 miles and an ocean in between.  But I do know of one.

I love you, Demetri.

I hope this finds you in good weather, in good health, in good spirits, and in good love.

Until next time,

Aly

Back to the Books

It's official... this semester will be the most challenging of my undergraduate career!  At least I am able to say it came while in England, right?  Surprisingly though, I'm not very stressed about it -- while it was a shock how much the English expect from their students first term, I am now trying to think about it positively and consider that if I put in the work the professors suggest, I will actually be far more prepared than having taken the same courses while in the states.  Again, classes mostly consist of no busy work, but rather loads of independent studying, in-class discussion with little lecturing from the professors, and major mid-term and final essays.  I believe out of six classes, I will only have three final exams at the end of the school year, so that's a bonus, but it means I have to put forth all I've got when it comes to the essays!

This term, my schedule is as follows:

Monday:  The Literature of Terror
Tuesday:  Language, Self, and Society (lecture)
Wednesday: Women in Latin American Narrative and Film
Thursday:  Language, Self, and Society (seminar)

I absolutely love all of them so far.  The Literature of Terror is something I would be a little extra excited about if it included works past the Victorian era, as texts from that time have always been quite difficult for me to get into.  Although, since it also doesn't include works from earlier years, I was beyond happy to learn that I wouldn't have to read Frankenstein for the fourth time in four years! The course covers the rise in Victorians' interest in terror and the supernatural.  While the material may prove difficult, the class is very talkative and fun, and the seminar leader enthusiastic, so it's definitely two hours of my week that I look forward to.  Last week I quickly worked through the original novel-version of Sweeney Todd since I had to lead the class discussion about it, along with a few other girls.  This week, I'm a few chapters into A Tale of Two Cities.  Fortunately, I already had a few of the required texts for the course, so I was able to save some money.

The Language, Self, and Society course is quite different from any I've taken while at university.  Apparently, there was a course last term that transitioned into this one, and all of the students, aside from me, were in it together, so I felt a little awkward the first day, but I've found that once people notice that you're American, curiosity easily leads to conversation.  The class will cover several concepts, including how we, as different cultures, view the world due to the influence of our native language, as well as bilingualism, the dying out and revival of certain languages, and politically correct terms.  As I'm the oddball, I've already been asked to pronounce a few words (Professor: "How do you say "G-I-R-L?" Me: "Girl." Class: "Hahaha!") with my "midwestern American accent" so it can be compared to the various British accents.  (Most Americans stress the "R" in the word "girl" whereas the Brits don't.)

Lastly is Women in Latin American Narrative and Film.  Each week, we are assigned two or three movies to watch that have been directed by women and that typically revolve around stories where women are the main characters.  Last week, the focus was on Maria Luisa Bemberg, an Argentine director, whose movies I loved!  They included Yo, La Peor de Todas, Camila, and Miss Mary.  She worked with true stories (one even used inspiration from her own childhood) about societal issues in a certain time period in Latin American countries, and showed those issues through personalized stories of women at that time.  Yes, the movies are done in Spanish (this week, Portuguese) -- so I'm hoping this might help to strengthen my Spanish speaking skills.  The young and upbeat professor for the course is, I believe, from Peru and even lectured at Yale.  We are to focus on all aspects of the film, which is something new to me, never having taken a film course -- everything from the plot itself to the visual language, costumes, historical context, setting, and characters.

As intriguing as all of these classes are, I am beginning the semester with little motivation.  Leigh Anne and I met up for dinner a few nights ago and discussed traveling during the semester, which always tends to brighten things up and cause me to work ahead, knowing I have something to look forward to.  We're looking into Ireland for St. Patrick's Day and maybe something equally brilliant before then.  Paris?  Scotland?  Germany?  Belgium?  Prague?  So many options, so little time!

And although I'm struggling to break out the books now, I'm already considering doing one more semester of school when I return, in order to get a double major in Women's Studies.  I feel very lost not filling out scholarship applications and planning my next semester this time of year.  I am a bit torn on what to do at the moment.  I plan to be in the area, for a bit anyway, so taking a few more classes seems sensible, right?  But I was planning to start a full-time, grown-up job upon my return.  Sigh.  I highly doubt I'm going to come across a letter in the mail or receive a phone call anytime soon that gives me all of the answers, so it comes down to some serious thinking and decision-making over the next few weeks...

I hope this finds you well, and on a path that makes you happy.  If not, it's never too late to move onto another :)

Love,
Aly

P.S. -- I apologize for the lack of pictures, but there's not been much interesting to take as of late!

Break in the USA & Back in the UK

Happy New Year, everyone!

I sincerely hope that all of you had a wonderful holiday season and are getting back into the swing of things now that we're twenty days into 2011.  Today begins my new start, as I've just arrived back in Canterbury after a quick, but much needed break back in the states.

As America presented me with lots of distractions, which included days full of cuddling up with Deme, catching up with friends, and hanging out with my mom, it was all too easy to ignore updating my blog.  I will attempt to keep this post about my last month as short and sweet as it can be.

Perhaps the most "eventful" part of my trip back home occurred not at home, but while at London's Heathrow Airport trying to get there.  I woke up around four in the morning on Friday the 17th of December and began a day that would include the use of nearly every form of transportation known to man.  I took a taxi to the Canterbury train station, and willed myself to stay awake while the train made its way to central London.  Fortunately, I chose the earliest train -- just in case of delays, of which there were two.  However, I still made it onto the Underground at a decent time and to my terminal with two hours before boarding.  However, checking in baggage took about forty-five minutes, and when I received my boarding pass, I realized there was no indication of a gate number.  So, I went from screen to screen looking at hundred of flight numbers and times, but did not see my own and learned that gate numbers do not go up until about twenty minutes before they open.  Mind you, I was already at a specific terminal at Heathrow (there are five) but I had to then take a bus to another part of the terminal... the place is huge!  Finally, I arrived at my gate and anxiously waited to board -- I was ecstatic that in about eight hours time, I was going to be home!

Psych.  We boarded the plane nearly an hour after departure time due to the caterers and cleaners showing up late.  Not a huge deal.  The plane began to back out for take off and then abruptly pulled back in.  The pilot came over the intercom and let us know that there was a technical difficulty but that the engineers would be on board soon.  After about twenty minutes, he announced that the engineers had fixed the problem, but that if we would take a  moment to look outside, the change in weather would cause us further delay.  I looked outside and saw teeny-tiny amounts of what appeared to be snow falling.  At this time, I still found the situation comical -- in Chicago, I'm pretty sure the plane would have taken off anyway.  But due to my fear of flying, I'd rather the airline play it safe, even in what I considered already safe conditions.  So, we got in a line to be de-iced.

Five hours later... yes, five (all of which we had to stay on the plane), when we finally left the ground, all passengers applauded to what I have now added to my list as one of the happiest moments of my life.  I tried not to think about how, had we left on time, I'd already be landing in Chicago.

Fortunately, my mom and brother who were coming to pick me up at O'Hare, found this delay a bit advantageous, as they were able to have quite a full day before leaving home to pick me up.  Ironically, although I'm able to navigate around a foreign country myself, I struggled to find them once I landed and got my luggage, and wandered about for a good amount of time before my brother ended up spotting me in the midst of my argument with an elevator.  I've never been so happy to see him, and once we met up with my mom, the whole mess didn't really matter anymore.  I was home.

Coming home to a house decorated for the holidays, complete with snickerdoodles and a new puppy, was exactly what I needed.  I crashed and slept like a baby until late the next morning.

Mom had to work loads over break, and Zen was busy, too, so family time was rare over the few weeks I was home.  The next day, as mom went down for a nap before going into the night shift, I packed up a bag and decided to surprise Demetri at his apartment.  I had a key to his place and a hope that he'd be there, since he'd stayed the night at his parents house.  Driving to Fort Wayne, I got butterflies like I'd never had before.  Seriously, I don't think they'd been that intense even when we'd first started dating.  I saw his Jeep in the parking lot and kept my fingers crossed that he wouldn't see me coming.  I unlocked his door as quickly and quietly as possible and there he was.  He slowly turned around and smiled in shock and we hugged for a few minutes without saying anything (I couldn't really talk at that point since I was crying tears of joy.)

A lot of people advise those who plan to study abroad to do so unattached, and I can understand why.  When you're in a relationship thousands of miles away, there's the issue of trust, of loneliness, of communication, and not to mention "lost" opportunities with foreigners.  And yes, it's one of the toughest parts of my own experience.  But what I can say is, when you get to see your significant other again after so much time apart, all of that falls by the wayside and the payoff is one of the best feelings a person can experience.  Although he wasn't any different, I took in everything about him all over again.  Skype and e-mail and international phone calls have allowed me to stay in touch and are a great help, but being in the same room again is almost surreal.  One of my biggest hopes is that in June, I can write this bit all over again.

That night, we visited with our friends Casey and Tara.  The night was a blast, starting out at their apartment and making our way to a bar downtown, but with a mixture of jet-lag and alcohol, I was exhausted and slept through the second half.  The sleeping continued for the next few days.

The night before Christmas Eve, my mom and I went with Deme and his mom to bingo night, which (call me nerdy) was a lot of fun.  He usually takes his mom on Thursdays but leaves her for the bar, which I didn't allow him to do this time :)  Mom won $100 and we used it to stock up on food for the Christmas Eve get-together at her side of the family's the next night.  It was so great to see everyone - especially the new addition to the family, baby Huston!

Typically on Christmas day, my dad's side of the family (which consists of more people than I can count) gets together.  This year, my grandparents left for Florida, so the family had Christmas on Thanksgiving, which I heard was a lot of fun, but left me a little disappointed that I wouldn't be seeing everyone.  But a few of us got together on Christmas Eve, after my mom's family's party, and just hung out, ate dessert, and talked while watching the "A Christmas Carol" marathon.

Christmas day, I received lots of books, which I wish I could have brought with me, and enjoyed spending the morning with my family and getting to explain their gifts, all of which came from Europe!  Later in the day, Deme and I had our Christmas.  He was extremely hard to buy for, insisting that he didn't need or want anything, so I got him practical gifts (curtains, a bookshelf, a robe, and a few odds and ends.)  I put up the curtains and built the bookshelf myself since I knew they'd still be in their packages next Christmas if I didn't (he claims to be a handyman, but I have yet to see it!)  And I'm pretty sure he's worn the robe every single day since, so I did well :)  I received a scarf and a chain bracelet with a heart attached, along with a hand-written poem, which was meant to be silly, but turned out to be my favorite.

A few days after Christmas, Zen reunited with The Skunkape Hysteria, his band from high school, and put on a reunion show at the 509 - a little coffee shop/church/thrift store/music venue in our hometown.  After a dinner with my mom and Deme, we made our way to the concert.  The place was packed, smelled like teen spirit, and made me feel old.  It was a success... a huge crowd still sang along with the songs, and it was great to see Zen's face light up on stage again.

Afterwards, me, my uncle Doug, who had come to the show, along with my mom, dad, and Deme went to a little sports bar and spent a few hours talking, laughing, playing pool, and taking turns on a punching bag game that records the strength with which it was punched.  The highlight of the night was Doug scoring a "1" and covering up with, "Beat that, just try to get lower than a one!"

A few days later, he invited us to his new house in Marion for dinner, which was great.  It also allowed me to see a little bit of my family for a second time, and made for some laughs as Zen attempted to play the Wii.

For New Year's Eve, Deme and I made a six hour journey to Sheboygan, Wisconsin, to spend the night with some friends who had moved up there over the summer.  First and foremost, it was cold.  The town itself is tiny, but full of independent stores and places to eat.  I'd like to go back in the summer, as it's right on a lake and hosts lots of little festivals.  We spent the couple of hours leading up to the countdown and the first minutes of 2011 in a tiny, crowded bar, and I loved every second - especially being able to ring in the new year with a kiss.

We went back and forth between a few bars until about 3:30 in the morning before calling it a night.  The next day, we lazed around and watched a few people in the group get new tattoos before going out again.  It was another good night until about the last hour of it, when I consumed a little too much and got unnecessarily emotional for no real reason but to give others laughs.  I'd like to thank everyone for playing good friends and putting up with that nonsense!

After New Year's, I made a solo road trip in the opposite direction, down to southern Indiana where my best friend and her family moved to right after I left the states.  Spending three hours on the road, with nothing but Ben Folds and Starbucks to keep me company, was much needed.  It was a beautiful drive and the further south I got, the sunnier and more mountainous my surroundings became.  When I arrived at Beth's place and realized that we were only thirty minutes away from Louisville, we decided to take an impromptu trip to Kentucky's capital the next day.  We didn't have any plan, so we parked downtown and walked around for a few hours.  Neither of us had been there before and we both fell in love, especially with the little pizzeria we came across.  As she's planning her wedding for next September, we both think it would be a brilliant idea to have her bachelorette party there.  Her daughter, Savannah, is two now, and talking up a storm.  Perhaps the best part of the trip was hearing her finally say my name, and I received several updates from Beth after I left that let me know Savannah was still asking for me.

Indiana was blanketed with snow the day my friend Katey and I decided to meet up for lunch.  While I miss driving sometimes, I don't at all when it comes to winter driving.  We made it into town, although I won't say without a scratch, as she had a little wreck on the way.  I'm extremely glad we decided to brave it though.  We spent a couple of hours catching up -- she found out a few weeks before I came home that she's having a baby -- so there was a lot to talk about.  With the bad roads and her needing to get to work, we weren't able to do anything afterwards, but simply getting to see her and know that she's doing well made me happy.

The rest of my time at home was spent watching entirely too much television, sleeping off and on, eating ridiculous amounts of carbs, and being totally unproductive.  Needless to say, I was kind of itching to come back and get into a routine.  I love having lazy days, but too many of them, especially in the grey Indiana winter, can make one feel a little gloomy.

As much as I longed to leave for England again, I broke down when saying goodbye to Deme.  Always the optimist, he insisted that I be happy and feel fortunate that I was going, asking that I not limit myself because of our relationship and a guilt of leaving, but instead enjoy my time as it will fly by and know that he wants everything to work as much as I do.  While this helped, I couldn't stop sniffling as I drove away and watched him wave goodbye.

I thought the waterworks were over, but as mom saw me off for the second time, I had to ask that she not stick around and watch me like last time, because I could feel the tears coming again.  If you haven't picked up on it yet, I'm not the best at goodbyes.  So, with a quick hug and an "I love you," I made my way to my gate.

After a seven hour flight, an hour on the Underground, an hour on the train (which took me from hazy London into bright and sunny Canterbury), and five minutes in a taxi, I found myself back in my flat, and thankful for it.  Although with no food, no familiar faces, and complete silence surrounding me, I fell asleep with some mixed emotions.

This morning, I woke feeling a lot better.  It's amazing with a little sun, the idea of a routine, and groceries delivered right to your door can do.  I think these first few days back will be a little bumpy, since I'd gotten so comfortable being in the states, but for now, Canterbury is home.

Surprisingly, I am excited to be without a television, without a car, and without a Blackberry again.  I had forgotten how much simpler my life is here, and am wondering what changes I may make because of it once I return home in June.

Now, I've got to catch up on the material I missed this week since I decided to return a little late, purchase my books, and get over the jet lag that I realized I clearly have this morning -- it took me a few minutes to realize I was showering in my underwear.

All for now,
Aly

First Term Coming to a Close

Hi everyone,

I thought I'd write a quick update - since this week and next are the last of the term (already?!) I'll be quite busy for the next couple of days and will likely forget to post for the week if I don't do it now!  In short, the snow has melted, my political science essay is finished, and Canterbury is filled with all sorts of holiday spirit.

For the last week, I've felt a bit under the weather and I like to use this as an excuse for my unbelievable and ridiculous lack of motivation to finish my last two projects.  One would think that the immense feeling of accomplishment and joy that comes from getting ahead would cause a person to do so more often.  Alas, after doing a bit of a happy dance upon sending my essay in to be proofread, I deemed my top priorities to not be to begin work on my final essay and poetry portfolio, but instead to watch "The Tudors," read The Unbearable Lightness of Being, squeeze in at least two naps a day, try the ten different flavors of hot chocolate offered at the grocery store, and tinker with a free photo-editing software.

As I've begun to feel a bit better - not to mention, simply tired of feeling lazy - I have happily welcomed the company of Elizabeth Bishop, Sylvia Plath, Emily Dickinson, James Wright, and T.S. Eliot, along with the sweet December sun and countdown to being home for the holidays, as just the inspiration I need to get me writing again.

Today, I attended my last poetry seminar of the year - and in doing so, experienced, by far, the best possible ending to a course.  Half of the time, we reviewed refrain poems, and discussed Bob Dylan's greatness, which included listening to "Blowin' in the Wind."  I've been fortunate enough to have taken several courses where Dylan is a focus and it makes me a very happy girl... every time.  Then, we had a workshop where I received a great deal of positive remarks about my last poem. A British student who had studied abroad in California last year developed a love for all things pumpkin, and brought in a homemade pumpkin pie (it's impossible to find pumpkin-flavored food and drink in this country), which we proceeded to take to the college's bar, where our professor treated us to drinks and we all had a nice break chatting for a bit.  Again, what better way to end the term?

I mentioned this would be quick, and so it is - I've nothing else to report at the moment.

I'm terrible at sharing my own writing, but I'll leave you with a poem that I plan to include in my portfolio, as proof that I am being productive over here.  The theme (for now, anyway) for my portfolio is nature - I plan to sandwich four poems - one for each season, in order - between a poem about morning and a poem inspired by night; the idea being that days may change with the seasons, but ultimately, everyday begins and everyday ends. 

This one was inspired by the vast and lingering amounts of fog that follow the melting of snow here.

Morning Haze

Fog creeps in quietly,

to smother the coming light of day.

Only the tops of cathedrals

and old redwood trees

escape its murky grasp.

The grass perspires,

anxious that the sun

will lose.  Trees in the distance

stand still and dark

as the ghosts in your dreams.

A bird cries somewhere,

looking for its home.

You sleep

because you're afraid to wake.

I wish you all the best of luck on final exams and essays, holiday shopping, weekend travels, or whatever else might be in store for you this week!

Always,

Aly

It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like December

Snow, snow, and more snow.  Before I came to England, and when I got here, all of those who had previously traveled or lived here, namely the British themselves, described Canterbury's winters as "quite mild."  Perhaps a bit of snow in the coldest months, but nothing much.

I've had a much different experience, and winter's just begun!

I will start though, with last week.  It was great on Thanksgiving, to Skype with Zen and see a house packed full of my loud, crazy, amazing family.  I was so thankful to have a few moments with my grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins waving, asking questions, and cheesing it up in front of the camera so that, in one instance, I had a close-up view of the gap from a first lost tooth, which the Tooth Fairy did come for, by the way :)

I was able to experience a Thanksgiving away from home on Saturday the 27th. Some wonderful Kent graduate students prepared a huge meal - for thirty of us or more - and although nothing replaces family and friends for the holidays, this certainly came in as a close second.  I was able to enjoy my two favorites, mashed potatoes and green beans, over chats about everything from Canadian weather to Freudian theories and left after my second plate of dessert, just when everyone was getting silly from the eggnog!

On Sunday, the temperature dropped rather rapidly and a few, weak snowflakes attempted to usher in the month of December a few days early, but the ground proved too warm for them to last.  It made for a bit of a laugh really, all of the young English adults - and other International students not used to snow - calling their friends and updating their Facebook statuses to exclaim, "It's snowing!" I thought how nice of a break it was going to be away from Indiana's harsh winters if this was all I had to put up with.

Tuesday morning, I opened my curtains to sunshine and... real, accumulated, glittering, white snow.  I couldn't help but be a bit excited instead of upset, it was beautiful.  Of course, my lectures came at the time of day it was beginning to warm up, and it was the wettest falling snow I've ever experienced.  I decided to take a bus that could get me to the building in two minutes instead of walking for nearly fifteen, but it seems public transportation in England does not get on well with even the lightest of snowy conditions and I waited twenty minutes longer than expected.  I still managed to make it to class before my professor and still ended up drenched enough that I could wring out my hair.

My entire day on campus, I was kept amused, not to mention on alert for oncoming snowballs.  Students from all of the snow-deprived areas of the world found their inner-kids and were building snowmen and making snow-angels in front of the library and having massive snowball fights on the way to class.  On the walk back to my flat, I couldn't help but feel relieved that I finally fit in when it comes to walking in the snow.  I don't care how used to it I should be, having grown up in the Midwest, I'm the absolute worst at walking in the winter.  I stare in awe as people pass me, walking normally as if there's nothing endangering their stride, while I carefully slide one foot in front of the other, eying the ground for slippery patches that wait to bring me tumbling down.  Although I kept this same method up, I was the one passing waddling students and people who abruptly stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, checked left and right for their best option, and made a huge, half-circle around areas that had accumulated major slush.  Still, this was no comparison to what I'm used to.  That night, there was a massive group of people who took part in a pub-crawl/snowball fight, while I attempted to master a sonnet.

Yesterday, I woke to just a few flakes falling here and there, and left for my poetry seminar.  About two feet from my door, I was ready to turn around.  The sidewalks and roads were covered in ice.  I literally skated my way to the bus-stop, stopping at the tops of the small hills along the way to assume a stance that would best prevent me from falling, close my eyes, hoping for the best, and let myself slide down it, as it was a better option than trying to walk down (even the grassy bits of the ground were ice-laden) and waited for the bus.  It was only later in the day, after class, that I noticed salt is not put down until afternoon, when it doesn't really matter because everyone has already broken a leg, wrecked their car, or thrown their hands up in the air and returned indoors for a self-proclaimed snow day.  Aside from one other student slowly making his way toward the stop, the place was empty.  The bus was late, again, but I made it to the classroom without a scratch.  Four more students made it for the last workshop day of the year as well - our professor praising our determination to get there.  She also suggested we go for drinks at a bar after next week's seminar, as it is our last meeting... oh, the perks of studying English.

This morning, I woke to see what appears to be the heaviest snow falling of all.  It's still coming down.  I am supposed to have a lecture at noon, but am keeping my fingers crossed that it's canceled.  Every school in Kent is closed, buses are hardly operating, and apparently staff is being advised to not come onto campus, so I won't feel entirely guilty for staying in and pondering International Relations to myself instead.

If I make this all about me, it seems as though there are two possibilities for this record-breaking British blizzard.
1.) England believed that it should prove itself as being capable of more than just 'mild winters,' and perfectly able to compete with Indiana's conditions.
2.) England believed that it should make me feel at home while I am here.

Well, England, you've both proven your point and made me feel very much at home.  I've appreciated it, but would much rather experience your own, unique December weather while I'm here... thank you!

In other news, I've been struggling through one of the last of my essays, for International Relations. It's been almost comical - after a week of research and the first two days of writing it, my paper consisted of my name, the date, a title and the words "In the 1800s,..."  This is funny mainly because I don't even discuss the 1800s. Ugh! I've chosen the question: What drives American foreign policy?  At the moment, I have a great deal of knowledge about American foreign policy over the last century, with about a million directions I could go in, and absolutely no idea how to compress it down into 2,000 words, nor how to do so in a non-creative, straightforward format.  If anyone is an expert on this, I'll most gratefully accept your advice!  I finished what I thought would be a wonderful, very detailed outline last week and have since changed it around several times -- after posting this blog, I'm afraid I've no option (as escaping outside or into town is not a very tempting possibility today) but to open the document I began last night and try to finish.

After that is finished, I have one essay and a poetry portfolio standing between me and the holidays at home!  I can only hope the weather is more agreeable on the 17th and I am able to arrive on time.  I'm looking forward to an unhealthy fill of carbs, Christmas cookies, American television, nights out, and naps by the fire with all of my favorite people!

I hope this finds everyone warm, cozy, and looking forward to something wonderful.

Love,
Aly

P.S. - As the photos were uploading for this blog, I received an e-mail that the lecture is off!  Hello, hot cocoa and Facebook... err... I mean, essay writing!

Learning to Fly

I would like to start by saying that I just glanced at the date of my last entry and cannot believe it has been two weeks since I last updated!  Days have been flying past as of late and there has not been a great deal of excitement worth mentioning.

The week following my last post, I spent working on an essay for my Reading & Writing Poetry course - which I received the grade for just this afternoon actually, and am not terribly happy with.  The professor for the course meets with each student to discuss the essays, which allows for a bit of clarification on the student's part and a bit more understanding on her's, and I find that very helpful.  Fortunately, for this course, there's a bit of room for improvement as students get the option to turn in a second essay and she uses the higher of the two scores, along with the exam score, for the final grade.  However, now that I've been hit in the face with how strict the grading really is in this country, I'm a little terrified for the outcomes of my other two modules, as I only get one shot at the essay grade.  My dear GPA, I apologize for the harm this year will bring to you - you've been so good to me these last few years.  Sigh.

I have found it to be a major struggle to put forth my best efforts in school - for various reasons.  First of all, I did not consider that living in a foreign country would feel like a vacation even after two months in.  While I attend classes and do a bit of studying, as well as make my deadlines for meetings and essays, school tends to be on my mind much less than future travels and adventures.  Even last week, as I woke planning to start research and outlines, I found it more important to soak up the Autumn sun and gallivant about town to watch the buskers, browse the markets, and marvel through the gates at St. Augustine's Abbey.

Also, due to the approaching winter and daylight savings, the light of day is gone by 4:30 in the afternoon - and it often never gets very light to begin with.  This, accompanied by a warm bed and book of my choosing, makes it nearly impossible to want to do anything but be lazy and lie down for bed at impossibly early hours.  I hope to snap out of this but am afraid that, unless something sparks my interest enough, my best performance won't come until the Spring.  Hopefully in time for exams!

As I mentioned, there are a select few things that will get me out of bed with my full attention.  Take, for example, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.  After learning that England does not do midnight showings, Leigh Anne and I booked tickets for the following morning's (Friday, November 19) first show.  Up and in town by 9 a.m., we were some of the first outside the cinema's doors.  It was quite an experience just standing in the lobby - an entire wall of candies to choose from on one side, ice-cream, cotton candy, and chocolate on the other... sweet or salted popcorn, hot drinks or cold, and just about everything in between.  Fortunately, Leigh Anne's become an expert at making puppy chow and brought that instead so we were able to proceed straight into the theater, where we were greeted by a lady who walked us to our amazing seats, right in the center.  We were floored that we, along with about ten other people, were the only ones to show up.  Apparently the British are better about waiting things like this out than Americans.  As the movie ended and the credits rolled, I was already ready to see it again.

At 4 a.m. the next morning, after a Skype date with Demetri that lasted until 2 a.m., I easily hopped out of bed for another piece of excitement... London!  My mom's best friend from her elementary and high school days now lives in Munich, but planned to see a rugby match in London for her husband's birthday and invited me along.  Although the match didn't start until two-thirty and they planned to leave somewhat early on Sunday, I decided to make a weekend of it and arrive early Saturday and leave late on Sunday.  I began getting ready just before I left, writing down the names of a few tube stations that I might want to hop off at while in the city and quite wisely packing only my point-and-shoot camera, coach tickets, and a few pieces of fruit.  Visits into London are starting to seem best when there's no plan in mind, everything always seems to work out perfectly.

The coach made its way into London a little after seven in the morning and the beauty of its skyline nearly moved me to tears (cheesy, but true.)  I had been talking with a guy on the coach who grew up in the city's outskirts and seemed totally unmoved by the picture perfect scene just outside the window... the golden glow of Big Ben and Houses of Parliament, the changing lights of the London Eye, and a slow sunrise that made it all come to life.  I thought about it then, how taken for granted hometowns are.  I wish I could find the beauty in moments like those everyday, no matter where, because it seems that those are what make life worth living.

After finding my way to the nearest Underground station, I hopped a tube to Westminster as I wanted to continue taking in that scene before beginning my day.  I was able to walk along the River Thames and watch electric lights fade as daylight grew stronger.  For awhile, it was almost surreal that I was in London.  Aside from an occasional jogger or taxi, the streets were rather quiet and empty.  I had the town to myself for awhile.  Big Ben chimed eight and things began to get a little busier.

I made my way to Westminster Abbey and spent a few moments pondering the idea that such intricate architecture could be built so long ago.  I do this almost daily here.  I then stumbled upon St. Margaret's Church which was surrounded by the Field of Remembrance, full of thousands of remembrance poppies for those lost in the armed forces.  This was a rather moving part of my day as well - seeing so much red, knowing there were more than I could possibly count.  Just across the road, a war protest was set up, with loads of signs and pitched tents.  Unfortunately, I believe that I left before any sort of action took place.

I continued to wander about, hoping that I'd end up in a place that sounded at least somewhat familiar.  I decided to follow the signs towards St. James' Park and proceeded to spend about thirty minutes in one small area talking to and laughing at the curious, chubby squirrels.  Perhaps a solo trip wasn't the best idea for my social life?  Although a few people did join me and we all got our fill of amusement watching them chase each other and, eventually, bully the pigeons.

From there, I followed a path that led me to Trafalgar Square and passed through to end up at the British Cavalry.  I watched the guards march for a few moments, and joined the other, obviously tourist, people getting pictures with the soldiers.  I ended up passing by several monuments dedicated to WWII, eventually got to the British Ministry of Defence building, and then ended back up where I'd started.

I crossed over the bridge to the London Eye and after passing about three shops that taunted me with breakfasty smells, caved and tried a "Wonder Waffle," a very popular treat in that area of London.  I've had a lack of strawberries and blueberries, two of my favorite fruits, while here... and certainly got my fill.

 

I continued walking along the opposite side of the River Thames in hopes of seeing Tower Bridge.  I'd learned that due to work on the Underground during the weekend, no tube stations near it were operating, but I never reached it... next time!  Instead, I made my way to Waterloo Station and boarded a train to meet my mom's friend, Shari, and her family in Twickenham.  Having only met Shari once, when I was a few months old, I was quite excited.  My mom has not been in touch with her for nearly twenty years, but told me loads of stories as I was growing up about their shenanigans - and there I was, on my way to hang out with her in a different country.  Funny how things work out.

I met Shari at the station and we greeted with a hug instead of words... such a great feeling!  The family and their friends were the most lovely, lively, and hilarious bunch of British I've spent time with thus far.  I cannot get over how welcoming people are here.  It was noon, and because the rugby match did not start until 2:30, there was plenty of time for drinking beforehand... of which there was much.  The group drank from noon until bedtime and were sure to keep a drink in my hand at all times.  Shari and I were able to share stories and laugh about a certain few that mom had forgotten to share.  The party, most of whom had rugby shirts on (I know for next time the appropriate attire), made our way to the stadium.  The atmosphere of a rugby match is very comparable to a football game in the states... lots of drinking, cheering, chanting, and celebrating, all within a similar type of stadium.  England won over Samoa and by the end of the game, I understood most of what was happening on the field.

We returned to the hotel pub for dinner and drinks, where I learned even more British slang, laughed over stories, surprised mom with a phone call from Shari, was invited to Stratford-upon-Avon (!) and began to think that maybe the solution to my sleeping issue is alcohol.  I slept like a rock!

The next day, we said our goodbyes and I joined Shari's family for a quick trip into London since they had to buy a suitcase before catching their flight back to Germany.  I am now on a mission to convince mom to visit so we can travel to Munich!  I'm so grateful to have met everyone, it was a wonderful experience all around!

After they left, I visited a few more well-known areas of London that I had not yet seen.  I worked my way down Regent and Oxford Streets (full of big-name companies like Burberry, Seven for All Mankind, H&M, etc.)  and saw a bit of Piccadilly Circus.  I am happy to report I got the majority of my holiday shopping done in those couple of hours!

I accidentally ended up in Leicester Square, where the red carpet is rolled out for many movie premieres.  There were lots of cinemas and restaurants surrounding the area and I sat down for a hot chocolate and listened to a few buskers before making my next move - which ended up being Hyde Park.

I say Hyde Park not because I'm certain I was there, but because that is where I believe I was.  When I got off of the tube, I was was surprised with a "Winter Wonderland."  No part of the park was really visible... not just because it was getting dark, but because every inch was covered with Christmas themed amusement rides, booth after booth of woodwork, jewelry, baked goods, crafts, souvenirs, German food, French food, beer, hot cocoa, hot cocoa with shots of your choice of alcohol and various other things.  Imagine a huge festival with every single bit of it having a Christmas theme.  I spent about an hour, unsure of whether or not I found this exciting or absolutely ridiculous, making my way through the crowds of couples and parents and children screaming that they wanted just one more ride on Santa's Rockin' Sleigh.

Finally, I headed back to where the whole weekend began, because I wanted to see London lit up at night.  I attempted to take a few pictures (click here for pictures) of the main attractions and realized I hadn't eaten during the day, so carefully inspected each food booth along the river... all sorts of food was offered, and I can safely say that one of my favorite smells now is that of roasted chestnuts which were available just about everywhere.  The idea of getting something nutritious battled around in my head, and I decided on a chocolate cupcake with white chocolate icing.  As I walked back along the riverside, I saw an empty bench with an amazing view.  I thought, "I want to sit on that bench and eat this unhealthy cupcake and enjoy every minute."  So I did.

I have no idea how long I sat on that bench overlooking the River Thames, savoring every bite of that cupcake, but I do know that the thought of how lucky I am to be here ran through my mind again and again.  I have been thankful for many things in my life, and I have tried to take time out to just appreciate the moment before, but my time on that bench was seriously different.  I am the kind of girl who needs plans, who makes lists and freaks out when things go astray.  I am the kind of girl who insists it is brains and personality that matter but stands in front of the mirror before bed and convinces herself the diet has to start in the morning.  I am the kind of girl who cannot go places alone because she worries about what everyone else will think of her not having any friends by her side.  It was in that small amount of time that I laughed at myself and realized I'm not really that girl after all.  I was perfectly happy, not worried about time or things I hadn't made it to, not counting calories, enjoying the place to myself, unconcerned with the thoughts of anyone else.

I love traveling with other people and sharing amazing moments in equally amazing places, but there is something about being seated in a place like London alone for awhile, surrounded by all kinds of movement from everyone else, and realizing that you're perfectly content, that there's nowhere else you'd rather be and nothing else you'd rather be doing, and that nothing needs to be said and that there's no use in trying to describe it afterward, as I am to you, because those moments are for you and you alone and no one else could feel the same even if they tried.

The trip had to end shortly thereafter, and I couldn't help but think that I had just handled one of the world's biggest cities on my own and had learned from it - even if I can't explain in words.  I guess it's more like a feeling, one of growing up.

Well, there you have it, deep thoughts and life lessons provided by Aly Hess.  I hope you are healthy, happy, learning and growing, wherever you are...

xo,
Aly

P.S.  I know it's extremely cliche to use a song to describe life's best moments, but I couldn't help thinking about this one during the whole trip and how it relates to not only this weekend, but this entire experience - perfectly fitting and my favorite artist.  I can't resist:

"Learning to Fly"
Tom Petty

 

I started out, down a dirty road

Started out, all alone

The sun went down as I crossed the hill

The town lit up, and the world got still

I'm learning to fly, but I ain't got wings

Coming down is the hardest thing

The good old days may not return

The rocks might melt, and the sea may burn

I'm learning to fly, but I ain't got wings

Coming down is the hardest thing

Some say life will beat you down

It'll break your heart and steal your crown

So, I started out for God knows where

I guess I'll know when I get there

I'm learning to fly, around the clouds
What goes up, must come down
I'm learning to fly, but I ain't got wings

Coming down is the hardest thing

November & Senioritis: We Meet Again

Readers,

[Insert looooong sigh of relief here.]  Unfortunately, this post will likely be one of my least interesting thus far.  For the last week, I've been cooped up in my room without proper amounts of human interaction and exposure to sunlight in a miserable attempt to write the first of my last few papers as an undergraduate student.

One would think that as an English major, I'd be able to fly through papers like it's nobody's business - and with many, I can.  Aside from the fact that I haven't written a paper since May, this paper falls into the social sciences and while I've done a few before, I've never done one UK style - not to mention, it's an upper level course!  The professor has been quite vague, both in class and in her assignment sheet about what it is she expects from the essay, and when a student asks for clarification, the expectations ironically become even more fuzzy.

The essay is due tomorrow by 4 p.m. so I was quite impressed that I had finished a draft last Thursday, after days of reading books and articles, analyzing, brainstorming, drafting and pulling my hair out, and was very pleased with the outcome.  I made an appointment with the learning center on campus to review it today before handing it in tomorrow, just to make sure I was on the right track.  I decided to come up with a list of questions for today's appointment yesterday afternoon, and when I re-read the essay question, "Critically assess gender as an explanation of social inequality," it dawned on me that I had not done one bit of critical assessing!  Over 3,000 words and excellent sources, but no answer!  Oh, how I miss working in the Writing Center and being surrounded by essays that keep me focused!

I rushed back to my room in a state of panic, scolded myself and glared at the stack of books, the worthless essay, and my laptop's blinking cursor on the empty white page... my enemies of the week greeted me again, and started from scratch.  Around two in the morning, I went from zero words back up to over 3,000 and begged my tired fingers to stop typing nonsense and just relay what was in my head.  I wrapped it up and after some editing and the learning center appointment today, I can thankfully say that I've saved the final draft and will hand it in tomorrow.  I wish I could say I have never let an essay take over my life before and that I'll never let it happen again, but during the school year it usually happens on a monthly basis.  The reason I'm so concerned about this one is because A.) It is my first essay in a different educational system & I've no idea how it will be graded, B.) It's worth 50% of my final grade, and C.) I have a thing for worrying.

Anyway... that's behind me and now onto 3,000 words comparing poems - tone, idiom, metaphors, and the like will keep me company this week... joy!  Senioritis is certainly creeping in and with so many amazing places to see and things to do so close by, it's even more of a struggle!  But I'm confident that I can handle this and get things done while still having fun.

So, let's rewind to before the essay crisis of November 7th.  Last Saturday, still catching my breath from our trip to London, I made the effort to scrounge up a few leftover coins and go into town to purchase a Halloween costume for a house party in the evening.  I found a witch's hat, some red lipgloss, and red fishnet tights all for under three pounds and - voila! - I was a witch.

The party was originally going to be hosted by a group of Spanish students, but the common room they had reserved in Parkwood was locked and the group kind of split up into the Spanish, who went off to another house, and the rest of us, a mix of American, French, British, and others.  We sat around and drank for awhile, then various people took turns on an acoustic guitar and we all sang Bob Marley and Rolling Stones tunes for a bit.  After awhile, a portion of the people who had purchased advance tickets to the university's dance club Vampire Ball left and the rest of us decided to jump on our 2 a.m. pizza craving.  As soon as the pizza arrived, a massive amount of people crowded into the kitchen -- The Venue had turned away everyone who showed up after 1 a.m., even with pre-purchased tickets!  I was quite sleepy but managed to nearly finish an entire large pizza by myself and attempt to engage in conversation until I just couldn't process anymore before calling it a night.

The rest of the week, seriously, was spent working on the essay we shall no longer speak of.  Aside from that, I occasionally found the time to ponder what on earth I'm going to do once I have my degree in June.  I thought that after four years of school focused in a specific area, my career choices would be narrowed... but now I feel like I have so many more options to weigh!  This is both brilliant and horrible, especially since I'm the most indecisive person I know.  I'm strongly considering teaching English abroad for a year, but graduate school and a year or two in journalism are equally appealing.  I know it's very last minute to be considering grad-school, but a few of the places I am interested in have rather late application deadlines and I could probably make it work if I start now.  Mom, how do you feel about Boulder, Colorado?

Friday was the 5th of November.  According to Facebook statuses that day, a large majority of my friends know the rhyme "Remember, remember the fifth of November," likely from V for Vendetta?  I felt so lucky that I was able to celebrate the holiday that this originated from, where it originated from: Guy Fawkes Night or "Bonfire Night."  Basically, on November 5, 1605 a group of thirteen men wanted to overthrow the King and a guy named Guy Fawkes was one of them.  They planned to do this by blowing up the Houses of Parliament in London, but Guy Fawkes was caught with loads of gunpowder underneath the building before they could carry out the plan.  The English celebrate, in a kind of Fourth of July style, by burning a "guy" (scarecrow) on a huge bonfire and lighting off fireworks in a carnival-type setting all across the country.

The fireworks display was actually bigger and better than any I've seen in the states (that's likely due to the fact that I'm from Indiana) and it was a totally different kind of experience.  So glad I was here for it!

Yesterday, Leigh Anne and I met up to start off our health-kick together (and yes, to avoid our essays.)  As she exclaimed, "I've resorted to exercising to put off this paper!" Equally true for me.  We planned to high-speed walk around the campus and a bit of town, but Mother Nature told us that we had to stop avoiding our inevitable schoolwork by first spitting rain, and when we didn't get the hint, pouring it down.  By the way, she's apparently still telling us not to go outside until it's all done - it has been raining off and on since yesterday morning!  At least when it stops for awhile it makes for some beautiful scenery:

 

I was quickly reminded that running never has been and never will be my sport as I was only able to jog a couple of short lengths back to my flat without wanting to collapse.  After changing into dry clothes, we went on a quest for a place to eat lunch on campus, which also failed because everyplace was closed.  We took this as another sign and ended up in the library, where this whole blog began.

The mention of the word "blog" reminds me of one last thing from this week - a member of staff from the university's International Office is starting a student blog page on the university's website where international students journal about their time in Canterbury... I sent him a sample of my work and after meeting up with him, he asked if I'd be interested in blogging for volunteer credits.  Of course I accepted!  I'll share the link when the site is up and running.

Also, it's hard to believe November is already upon us, but it is. And that means a new photo album.  Click here to see what Canterbury is like at this time of year!

I hope everyone is well and stress-free... if not, take an hour or two break.  You deserve it.

All for now,
Aly