As of 3pm today, I will never have to step foot in a lecture again! I am finished with class....I have an extra 9 hours a week to do whatever I want. It's kind of exciting! Of course I still have to do some reports and the big looming dissertation but I can do those in the comfort of my bed and sweats!
This is it, I am not going back...no matter how bad those loan payments look, I do not need a 4th degree!
Now comes the hard part, focusing long enough to write more than a couple sentences before I go home....
5 days cannot come soon enough!
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Absence makes the heart.....
He left 6 days ago for his month long holiday in Albania which should be the perfect time to catch up with friends, go out, and have some time for myself. It should be but it isn't. Instead I have spent £30 just to hear his voice and cried multiple times when I thought about what he was doing.
I am always saying goodbye to him, I am usually the one waving from the airport gates, I have never been the one waiting at home, until now. This whole experience is made worse by the fact that we were pretty shakey prior to his departure. My attitude and overall bitchiness, lead to a 4 day break-up two weeks ago. We managed to recover days before he left but now I get to sit here, with a pile of my insecurities, wondering if Beni will realise being with an Albanian woman would be much easier than dating me.....
I need some time away from the city, it seems much colder without a cuddle buddy! Thank god I will be going home for some much needed time with friends and family in only 9 days!
I am always saying goodbye to him, I am usually the one waving from the airport gates, I have never been the one waiting at home, until now. This whole experience is made worse by the fact that we were pretty shakey prior to his departure. My attitude and overall bitchiness, lead to a 4 day break-up two weeks ago. We managed to recover days before he left but now I get to sit here, with a pile of my insecurities, wondering if Beni will realise being with an Albanian woman would be much easier than dating me.....
I need some time away from the city, it seems much colder without a cuddle buddy! Thank god I will be going home for some much needed time with friends and family in only 9 days!
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Espana
It took 1 bus, 3 trains, and 2 planes through 3 countries for me to see fireworks. I suffered through10 hours of travel, I blame Nacho....
We landed in sunny Madrid around 1pm, with the sun teasing us through the glass walls, we had to take a moment outside before continuing our journey underground. It's amazing how quickly you forget what a warm autumn feels like after living under the constant threat of rain and clouds. Finally, a reason to own sunglasses!!!
With our craving for sun slightly statisfied we rushed to get into the center of Madrid, afterall jugs of Sangria awaited us! Being tube veterans, we easily navagated our way on the Metro. As we sat waiting for our next connection, a girl approached us, asking directions in Spanish. Our dazed and confused faces were the give away, it took about .5 seconds before she asked if we too were American. We boarded the same car and continued with the small talk, quickly we realised we were staying the same hostel. It's a pretty small world when you are a traveling American. 45mins and 1 Euro later we all arrived in Tirso del Molino, searching for Way Hostel.
Hostels are trickey, they are like Forrest's momma said....like a box of chocolates, ya never know what you're gonna get. Ya might get the coconut of the box: a dirty place with no linens or hot water. Hostels are not for the faint hearted or untrusting, they are the cheapest form of accomodation, mainly because most time you are in a room of as many as 12 boys and girls. But thats what you get when you want to pay £10-£20 a night in a big city. Luckily, this was hip, lively, and most importantly clean! While we were in a room of 8 girls, we were given a 2 bunk bed room off to the side...that kind of privacy is rare!
We threw our valuables (passports/keys) in a locker and headed out to some grub. 30 minutes later, we realised that this Siesta business is no joke, every street was filled with closed shop windows and gated doors. Where can some tourists get some food and drink during the country-wide nap? Well when in doubt head towards a tourist attraction or a Madrid museum. We came across a square, with tables at each point. We joined the Siesta and ordered some vino and lots of food!
The desire to feel like a cool kid is constant when I'm in a different country. Europeans are effortlessly cool, which makes them even more badass....its a combination of the clothes, the look, the excessively long meals, and endless shops/restaurants you can't afford. I felt slightly cooler as my phone began to ring. Our nationality mut and street cred for the night, Jose,was in town for business. After giving our location, my phone rang again, this time our fellow American traveler was calling to meet up. 30 minutes and various tapas gone, we had a table full of friends and drinks. Our new members to the party speak fluent Spanish making ordering a million times easier. Prior to their arrival, Ash and I had to resort to charades to order wine....
With a bottle of wine down and full bellies we moved on to Plaza Mayor for Sangria. Under the setting sun, we sat in the plaza, listening to street performers, eating olives, drinking Sangria and sharing travel tales. As the weather turned colder and my hair started feeling a little greesy from a day of travel...we decided to freshen up before our self-designed bar crawl. with our best attempts at the European style, we were off to pick up Jose. Jose doesn't do hostel, he doesn't even do cheap hotels...he does trendy, hip, overpriced excuses for accomodation, but hey, its not my credit card. His room, is all white, modern, and sterile. The only break from white, is the blue neon lights that light his headboard. Trashy or Chic? I'll let you decided....
I would tell you how many bars we went to but I lost track pretty quick. The Spanish love their pubs and nightlife, it is still very much a different world...one I love! People go out late...like 11/12 late and stay out until 6 or 7 in the morning, it is no wonder why they need afternoon naps. It started with wine, then shots, then beer...by the 5th pub, we were very much in the middle of good Spanish nightlife. We were given fresh olives, cured meats, and bread with some of our orders. Not typical drinking food but wonderful all the same! It didn't take long before we tested our Spanish...I am proud to say, most bartenders were able to understand us...the pointing and hand gestures had a lot to do with that. We stumbled (literally) right into a gay bar, one that much to my joy, had a drag show. Everyone knows that I love the queens but I might love Spanish queens even more! There was something so entertaining about them singing in Spanish, making fun of us Americans in Spanish, and not even making an attempt to lipsing! After a couple sets, Jose, forced us out...afterall he did have that Trash pad all to himself, a drag show isn't really going to fix that...at least not how he envisioned it. We managed a drink at another pub before throwing in the towel.
We did our best to get up at a decent hour but sometime nothing before 12 seems decent...so we settled for a late start. First stop: Food! A corner cafe with table in the sun, seemed appropriate...we pointed at a Spanish food we knew, tortilla potato (or something like that), a Spanish friend of ours helped us fall in love with the dish back in London. We were a bit surprised when random meat on a roll was delivered with our coffee. Clearly the mystery meat had nothing to do with what we thought we ordered. Ashley attempted to tell our waiter in Spanglish that we had ordered in correctly. After 45 minutes staring at the food, it was obviously that the waiter had no intention of bringing us thecorrect dish, enter paraniod feelings of douchbagery! Attempt Numero Dos brought results and our potato tortilla concoction was well worth the hour wait. Full and ready to go, we picked up our tour guide, Jose. We walked the grounds of the palace, the busy Grand Via, Templo de Debod, an old Egyptian temple, and finally to Retiro Park, home of the Crystal Palace. The park is stunning...stone and markble colomns and monumental lions sit on the far side of a lake filled with boaters. I have been wanted to live in the cheesy moment of rowing a wooden boat on a park lake since I moved...must work on that ASAP!!!
It goes without saying that Madrid is beautiful, clean, and peacefully old. Gardens surround the old buildings and plazas. No one seemed to be doing anything except enjoying the sunny November weekend. Despite covering a lot of ground quickly, the European spirit stayed with us, as we frequently stopped for ice cream and coffees along our route.
With Jose in the air back to London, Ashley and I took advantage of a city event: MTV European Music Awards concert. On a large main street, a stage was set up for a free concert. We tried to work our way through the streets towards the stage, as luck would have it, the directionally challenged were able to by-pass barriers and crowds, only to come right up in the front close to the stage. For once we were in the right place at the right time, we sat through 3 sets of SPanish performers waiting anxiously for Katy Perry, Linkin Park, and 30 Seconds to Mars (only for a glimpse at Jordan Catalano of course). An American near us, overhearing our excitement, kindly burst our bubble. We were a day away from the right place at the right time, we were 24 hours early for the show we were waiting to see. We stayed for a little longer before decided we had enough of the all Spanish concert. Off to get food....
The thing about Spain is, they are always later than the rest of the world...later nights out...later lunches...and much later dinners!!! We stopped at 5 places, each no ready to serve food until 9. How do these people not pass out..9pm...seriously! We gave up at place #6, settled for Sangria until the 9pm dinner time. The exhaustion was catching up to us but we were determined to not spend our last night in bed, despite the urge too. A Spanish friend of ours back in London, kindly made some calls, getting us onto a guest list at a nightclub, one of the many perks of international buddies!
By 11 we were out and slightly ready to consume some drinks, at 11:30 we were told the club wasn't open for another 45 minutes. So we headed to a pub around the corner for a quick pint. But since you all know my emails, you know it wasn't quick or just a pint. But again, I do not take responsibility for this. It was a corner pub, a local pub, the kind where they smoke behind the bar, know everyones name, and free pour. (Spain is still a smoking country until NYE and they take advantage of it...everywhere!) The free pour is long gone from London, liquors are measured by the ml, you pay extra for each ml over a shot...but it alive and well in Spain. Nacho, yes Nacho, )he is used to the American giggles over his name after living in Boston for a summer...) is a big fan of the free pour, Nacho will just keep on pouring until you say stop. As the lone foreigners, Nacho took it upon himself to share with us a free selection of Spanish favorites, one in perticular was Calimocho (50% red wine 50% coke). Apparently there is not a glass big enough for these drink so this pub uses plant pots and buckets to serve the mix. Towers of beers sit on every table (oh how I miss towers at Chickie and Petes). So there we were with Nacho and a pack of Spanards drinking free poured minis (anything but mini) until the bar closed. But we stayed on, as Nacho closed and cleaned we drank with our new buddies until we remember that we were supposed to be at a club. We bid adios to our new friends and ran off. 3:30 in the morning is apparently too late, even for the Spanish to let in people from the guest list without paying. And £25 was a little too much for our budgets, so we settled for late night pizza and got home a little after 4am. Drunk and tired, we decided to take a cat nap until 5am, the time we needed to leave for the airport.
At 8:30 am we woke up, the exact time our place was taking off...so much for a cheap weekend away..... I blame Nacho and his free pour art!
We landed in sunny Madrid around 1pm, with the sun teasing us through the glass walls, we had to take a moment outside before continuing our journey underground. It's amazing how quickly you forget what a warm autumn feels like after living under the constant threat of rain and clouds. Finally, a reason to own sunglasses!!!
With our craving for sun slightly statisfied we rushed to get into the center of Madrid, afterall jugs of Sangria awaited us! Being tube veterans, we easily navagated our way on the Metro. As we sat waiting for our next connection, a girl approached us, asking directions in Spanish. Our dazed and confused faces were the give away, it took about .5 seconds before she asked if we too were American. We boarded the same car and continued with the small talk, quickly we realised we were staying the same hostel. It's a pretty small world when you are a traveling American. 45mins and 1 Euro later we all arrived in Tirso del Molino, searching for Way Hostel.
Hostels are trickey, they are like Forrest's momma said....like a box of chocolates, ya never know what you're gonna get. Ya might get the coconut of the box: a dirty place with no linens or hot water. Hostels are not for the faint hearted or untrusting, they are the cheapest form of accomodation, mainly because most time you are in a room of as many as 12 boys and girls. But thats what you get when you want to pay £10-£20 a night in a big city. Luckily, this was hip, lively, and most importantly clean! While we were in a room of 8 girls, we were given a 2 bunk bed room off to the side...that kind of privacy is rare!
We threw our valuables (passports/keys) in a locker and headed out to some grub. 30 minutes later, we realised that this Siesta business is no joke, every street was filled with closed shop windows and gated doors. Where can some tourists get some food and drink during the country-wide nap? Well when in doubt head towards a tourist attraction or a Madrid museum. We came across a square, with tables at each point. We joined the Siesta and ordered some vino and lots of food!
The desire to feel like a cool kid is constant when I'm in a different country. Europeans are effortlessly cool, which makes them even more badass....its a combination of the clothes, the look, the excessively long meals, and endless shops/restaurants you can't afford. I felt slightly cooler as my phone began to ring. Our nationality mut and street cred for the night, Jose,was in town for business. After giving our location, my phone rang again, this time our fellow American traveler was calling to meet up. 30 minutes and various tapas gone, we had a table full of friends and drinks. Our new members to the party speak fluent Spanish making ordering a million times easier. Prior to their arrival, Ash and I had to resort to charades to order wine....
With a bottle of wine down and full bellies we moved on to Plaza Mayor for Sangria. Under the setting sun, we sat in the plaza, listening to street performers, eating olives, drinking Sangria and sharing travel tales. As the weather turned colder and my hair started feeling a little greesy from a day of travel...we decided to freshen up before our self-designed bar crawl. with our best attempts at the European style, we were off to pick up Jose. Jose doesn't do hostel, he doesn't even do cheap hotels...he does trendy, hip, overpriced excuses for accomodation, but hey, its not my credit card. His room, is all white, modern, and sterile. The only break from white, is the blue neon lights that light his headboard. Trashy or Chic? I'll let you decided....
I would tell you how many bars we went to but I lost track pretty quick. The Spanish love their pubs and nightlife, it is still very much a different world...one I love! People go out late...like 11/12 late and stay out until 6 or 7 in the morning, it is no wonder why they need afternoon naps. It started with wine, then shots, then beer...by the 5th pub, we were very much in the middle of good Spanish nightlife. We were given fresh olives, cured meats, and bread with some of our orders. Not typical drinking food but wonderful all the same! It didn't take long before we tested our Spanish...I am proud to say, most bartenders were able to understand us...the pointing and hand gestures had a lot to do with that. We stumbled (literally) right into a gay bar, one that much to my joy, had a drag show. Everyone knows that I love the queens but I might love Spanish queens even more! There was something so entertaining about them singing in Spanish, making fun of us Americans in Spanish, and not even making an attempt to lipsing! After a couple sets, Jose, forced us out...afterall he did have that Trash pad all to himself, a drag show isn't really going to fix that...at least not how he envisioned it. We managed a drink at another pub before throwing in the towel.
We did our best to get up at a decent hour but sometime nothing before 12 seems decent...so we settled for a late start. First stop: Food! A corner cafe with table in the sun, seemed appropriate...we pointed at a Spanish food we knew, tortilla potato (or something like that), a Spanish friend of ours helped us fall in love with the dish back in London. We were a bit surprised when random meat on a roll was delivered with our coffee. Clearly the mystery meat had nothing to do with what we thought we ordered. Ashley attempted to tell our waiter in Spanglish that we had ordered in correctly. After 45 minutes staring at the food, it was obviously that the waiter had no intention of bringing us thecorrect dish, enter paraniod feelings of douchbagery! Attempt Numero Dos brought results and our potato tortilla concoction was well worth the hour wait. Full and ready to go, we picked up our tour guide, Jose. We walked the grounds of the palace, the busy Grand Via, Templo de Debod, an old Egyptian temple, and finally to Retiro Park, home of the Crystal Palace. The park is stunning...stone and markble colomns and monumental lions sit on the far side of a lake filled with boaters. I have been wanted to live in the cheesy moment of rowing a wooden boat on a park lake since I moved...must work on that ASAP!!!
It goes without saying that Madrid is beautiful, clean, and peacefully old. Gardens surround the old buildings and plazas. No one seemed to be doing anything except enjoying the sunny November weekend. Despite covering a lot of ground quickly, the European spirit stayed with us, as we frequently stopped for ice cream and coffees along our route.
With Jose in the air back to London, Ashley and I took advantage of a city event: MTV European Music Awards concert. On a large main street, a stage was set up for a free concert. We tried to work our way through the streets towards the stage, as luck would have it, the directionally challenged were able to by-pass barriers and crowds, only to come right up in the front close to the stage. For once we were in the right place at the right time, we sat through 3 sets of SPanish performers waiting anxiously for Katy Perry, Linkin Park, and 30 Seconds to Mars (only for a glimpse at Jordan Catalano of course). An American near us, overhearing our excitement, kindly burst our bubble. We were a day away from the right place at the right time, we were 24 hours early for the show we were waiting to see. We stayed for a little longer before decided we had enough of the all Spanish concert. Off to get food....
The thing about Spain is, they are always later than the rest of the world...later nights out...later lunches...and much later dinners!!! We stopped at 5 places, each no ready to serve food until 9. How do these people not pass out..9pm...seriously! We gave up at place #6, settled for Sangria until the 9pm dinner time. The exhaustion was catching up to us but we were determined to not spend our last night in bed, despite the urge too. A Spanish friend of ours back in London, kindly made some calls, getting us onto a guest list at a nightclub, one of the many perks of international buddies!
By 11 we were out and slightly ready to consume some drinks, at 11:30 we were told the club wasn't open for another 45 minutes. So we headed to a pub around the corner for a quick pint. But since you all know my emails, you know it wasn't quick or just a pint. But again, I do not take responsibility for this. It was a corner pub, a local pub, the kind where they smoke behind the bar, know everyones name, and free pour. (Spain is still a smoking country until NYE and they take advantage of it...everywhere!) The free pour is long gone from London, liquors are measured by the ml, you pay extra for each ml over a shot...but it alive and well in Spain. Nacho, yes Nacho, )he is used to the American giggles over his name after living in Boston for a summer...) is a big fan of the free pour, Nacho will just keep on pouring until you say stop. As the lone foreigners, Nacho took it upon himself to share with us a free selection of Spanish favorites, one in perticular was Calimocho (50% red wine 50% coke). Apparently there is not a glass big enough for these drink so this pub uses plant pots and buckets to serve the mix. Towers of beers sit on every table (oh how I miss towers at Chickie and Petes). So there we were with Nacho and a pack of Spanards drinking free poured minis (anything but mini) until the bar closed. But we stayed on, as Nacho closed and cleaned we drank with our new buddies until we remember that we were supposed to be at a club. We bid adios to our new friends and ran off. 3:30 in the morning is apparently too late, even for the Spanish to let in people from the guest list without paying. And £25 was a little too much for our budgets, so we settled for late night pizza and got home a little after 4am. Drunk and tired, we decided to take a cat nap until 5am, the time we needed to leave for the airport.
At 8:30 am we woke up, the exact time our place was taking off...so much for a cheap weekend away..... I blame Nacho and his free pour art!
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Distance makes the heart....
Grow fonder? Colder? Indepedent? Or maybe just a healthy combination of each...
My Albanian and I have gone from inseperable to 3 nights a week, bold changes here we come! There is peace and quiet, there is coming and going, and there is 'me time'. After a week, I have adjusted to being on my own. He has been slower to adjust. I am basking in the independence and he is grasping for attention. The only thing we agree on is, it's hard to sleep without the other, the empty space next to us keeps us awake.
It's nice not to feel trapped by each fight. I missed having somewhere to run to when things got a little too heated. As I am enjoying every moment of my new flat (esp.since its clean now!), he fears my place to run will become permanent. I don't know if that will happen but I do know it's nice to have time to miss him. It makes us kiss a little longer, hug a little tighter, and talk more. We can't take back all that came out of living together, I wouldn't want to(well I might take back some of the gross habits I've seen but I'm sure he would say the same.) but I am glad to start dating again. Dating means flowers when I get off the tube, brunches, and dinners out.
My Albanian and I have gone from inseperable to 3 nights a week, bold changes here we come! There is peace and quiet, there is coming and going, and there is 'me time'. After a week, I have adjusted to being on my own. He has been slower to adjust. I am basking in the independence and he is grasping for attention. The only thing we agree on is, it's hard to sleep without the other, the empty space next to us keeps us awake.
It's nice not to feel trapped by each fight. I missed having somewhere to run to when things got a little too heated. As I am enjoying every moment of my new flat (esp.since its clean now!), he fears my place to run will become permanent. I don't know if that will happen but I do know it's nice to have time to miss him. It makes us kiss a little longer, hug a little tighter, and talk more. We can't take back all that came out of living together, I wouldn't want to(well I might take back some of the gross habits I've seen but I'm sure he would say the same.) but I am glad to start dating again. Dating means flowers when I get off the tube, brunches, and dinners out.
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Kickin' off the shoes!
I forgot how nice it is to walk around your flat without shoes. I haven't dared risk my soles in this place. Every corner screams of a disease! Clean and organised aren't words you would use in combination with my name but I've hit my breaking point. Somewhere in between rewashing every dish and debating showering at the gym over my own place, I put the plan in action. I don't want to start a battle 5 days into my tenacy so I hoped leading by example would be enough.
After all my bitching, I maned up. I was half way through a good tub scrubing when Sal came home, shocked by my cleaning, he thanked me and walked away. By the time I was going to town on the sink, he returned to apologize and promise to keep up the clean flat. Unimpressed, I carried on. Beni joined the effort by kitchen time. You know you have a good boyfriend when he helps clean just to end the bitchfest! So clean we did, for hours scrubbing, mopping, and sticking our hands in crude. It seems to have made the impression I wanted...let's see how long it stays. I really don't want to flathunt again!
After all my bitching, I maned up. I was half way through a good tub scrubing when Sal came home, shocked by my cleaning, he thanked me and walked away. By the time I was going to town on the sink, he returned to apologize and promise to keep up the clean flat. Unimpressed, I carried on. Beni joined the effort by kitchen time. You know you have a good boyfriend when he helps clean just to end the bitchfest! So clean we did, for hours scrubbing, mopping, and sticking our hands in crude. It seems to have made the impression I wanted...let's see how long it stays. I really don't want to flathunt again!
Sunday, October 3, 2010
The Big Move!
I waited anxiously surrounded by bags until 5 for Beni to come home before starting the moving process... because starting to move my bags over by myself would have been a waste of a strong Albanian. I try not to be wasteful...that and I'm lazy, it went much easier to leave anything remotely heavy to the boy! Of course we get to my new flat only to find the guy who was moving out, not entirely moved out! I think he put a little pep in his step once he saw I was just going to sit on my suitcase and watch him until he got out. With bags in, I showed the boy around and tried to be cool about the fact that it didn't look like I remembered. It was what most people, including myself, would call a dump! It was never a palace but I don't remember agreeing to live in a run down shack.
My first pee in my flat was fairly tramatizing....I know this is TMI but I want you all to get the full picture....As I sat to pee, the toilet seat slid off onto the floor. That along with smelling as if a urine battle had taken place moments before was enough to make me panic. I ran to Beni, whining about my smelly, broken, crudy floor bathroom. He became the Construction version of Wesley in the Princess Bride, instead of 'As you wish' to all my whines, it became 'I fix it Baby'
To avoid attacking my new flatmate: I went shopping for the new flat essentials....a TV, door hooks, jewlery holder, candles, a drill for Mr. Fix it, and a brand new, pee free toilet seat. We attempted the TV first only to find there was no TV jack in the room. Back to the store return the cable and get an atennea. I came home to a new and attached toilet seat and door hooks. I now understand why trashy romance novels usually have construction/handy men in them....I don't need a knight in shining armor....I need a man with a drill and a toilet seat! I am not ashamed to say: I have never loved him more than that moment when I was able to pee without fear of falling into the bowl!
The rest of the day didn't run as smoothly, I purchased 2 other atenneas before giving up and I refuse to attempt again this week! Not long after I was settled, my new flatmates stopped by to say hello. The girl, Jen, could not thank Beni enough for the toilet make-over. Apparently, she had been suffering through that for weeks. Sal, my landlord and dirty flatmate, came by to see if we had fixed it. He thanked us and claimed to be on his way to fix it that very day. I don't know what smell worse, his bullshit or the urine scented bathroom!
The kitchen is almost as bad as the bathroom. They both apologized for the mess, yet I have not seen one of them attempt to remedy the filth! You all know me, I'm not exactly the female Mr. Clean, so you know its bad when I'm grossed out! But I have a new plan of attack...hiring a cleaner. Hopefully this will send Dirty Sal a hint! If it doesn't get better, well, at least I didn't sign a lease!
But despite the dirt, there is one redeeming quality....the view! The night time skyline, makes me giddy! It is only topped by the pink and orange sunrise I woke Beni up for this weekend. With 5ft windows lining the wall, it's hard not to jump out of bed and hang your head out the fully opened windows.
My first pee in my flat was fairly tramatizing....I know this is TMI but I want you all to get the full picture....As I sat to pee, the toilet seat slid off onto the floor. That along with smelling as if a urine battle had taken place moments before was enough to make me panic. I ran to Beni, whining about my smelly, broken, crudy floor bathroom. He became the Construction version of Wesley in the Princess Bride, instead of 'As you wish' to all my whines, it became 'I fix it Baby'
To avoid attacking my new flatmate: I went shopping for the new flat essentials....a TV, door hooks, jewlery holder, candles, a drill for Mr. Fix it, and a brand new, pee free toilet seat. We attempted the TV first only to find there was no TV jack in the room. Back to the store return the cable and get an atennea. I came home to a new and attached toilet seat and door hooks. I now understand why trashy romance novels usually have construction/handy men in them....I don't need a knight in shining armor....I need a man with a drill and a toilet seat! I am not ashamed to say: I have never loved him more than that moment when I was able to pee without fear of falling into the bowl!
The rest of the day didn't run as smoothly, I purchased 2 other atenneas before giving up and I refuse to attempt again this week! Not long after I was settled, my new flatmates stopped by to say hello. The girl, Jen, could not thank Beni enough for the toilet make-over. Apparently, she had been suffering through that for weeks. Sal, my landlord and dirty flatmate, came by to see if we had fixed it. He thanked us and claimed to be on his way to fix it that very day. I don't know what smell worse, his bullshit or the urine scented bathroom!
The kitchen is almost as bad as the bathroom. They both apologized for the mess, yet I have not seen one of them attempt to remedy the filth! You all know me, I'm not exactly the female Mr. Clean, so you know its bad when I'm grossed out! But I have a new plan of attack...hiring a cleaner. Hopefully this will send Dirty Sal a hint! If it doesn't get better, well, at least I didn't sign a lease!
But despite the dirt, there is one redeeming quality....the view! The night time skyline, makes me giddy! It is only topped by the pink and orange sunrise I woke Beni up for this weekend. With 5ft windows lining the wall, it's hard not to jump out of bed and hang your head out the fully opened windows.
Friday, September 24, 2010
Next!
We waited for nothing. No amount of luck, praying, or fuzzy rabbit's feet would have changed the outcome. It ended like I was told it would.
I should have known the outcome as we stood in the rain queuing behind other American dream chasers. The gauty gold eagle loomed over armed gaurds parading past each state flag. Metropolitan Police paced on the other side of the high gates enclosing the embassy, calling in hopefuls 3 by 3 to begin security checks. Car keys, mobile phones, Key fobs, and any electronic devices require storage at 'preferred vendors' before entering the security kiosk. Nothing says we welcome the masses like machine guns, 7ft gates and a gold eagle peering earily as if to scoop you up and throw you right back to whatever border you hoped to crossed.
The night before, we watched videos issued by Border Control and played pop quiz with any potential questions. He stayed up late shaving and fretting over the perfect Visa interview outfit. Nervously he woke up at 5:30 am, to practice and study any paperwork before his 9:30 appointment. I can't say I have prepared as much for a job interview!
He met me at the Starbucks almost 3 hours later. I thought he was teasing, when he told me he was denied. I asked again only to hear him relay the story again. The officer took his passport and asked: 'What is the reason you want to visit the US?' 'To spend Christmas with my girlfriend and her family' The officer handed a generic letter through the glass and quickly replied 'I'm sorry but No' Beni tried to ask for a reason but was silenced by the guy yelling 'Next'
The urge to cry made me rush out of Starbucks, I barely made it to Oxford Street before bursting into tears. I don't know if it was the disappointment that we would spend our first Christmas and New Years on other sides of the world; or the anger at my embassy's decision that he wasn't worthy; it was mostly the way he apologised for disappointing me. It was just another sign that our relationship, plagued with differences, was going to be more challenging that we realised. We have spent the past 2 months planning our holiday: the Christmas tree in NY, holiday parties with my friends and family, mummers parades, and maybe a day in DC. Now we are talking about our early Christmas before we both fly to our home countries.
I found myself defending American more than I am comfortable with since I've moved. If it isn't our politics, it's the American attitude. But this day has made me embarrassed, angry, and ashamed of our policies. I can't begin to think of a reason or an argument to defend this situation. We have lost sight of what made our country so appealing in the first place. I am bais, I know but I can't help feeling that this was nothing more than a clean cut case of discrimination. I cannot think of a person more deserving to see the world, yet he is denied for his nationality. I would love to see America's reaction if everyone started denying us entry for the passports we carry.
Maybe we are glutans for disappointment but we will try again. I refuse to let a beaurocrat behind glass tell me that my boyfriend and I are not worthy of the awkward meet the parents part of a relationship.
I should have known the outcome as we stood in the rain queuing behind other American dream chasers. The gauty gold eagle loomed over armed gaurds parading past each state flag. Metropolitan Police paced on the other side of the high gates enclosing the embassy, calling in hopefuls 3 by 3 to begin security checks. Car keys, mobile phones, Key fobs, and any electronic devices require storage at 'preferred vendors' before entering the security kiosk. Nothing says we welcome the masses like machine guns, 7ft gates and a gold eagle peering earily as if to scoop you up and throw you right back to whatever border you hoped to crossed.
The night before, we watched videos issued by Border Control and played pop quiz with any potential questions. He stayed up late shaving and fretting over the perfect Visa interview outfit. Nervously he woke up at 5:30 am, to practice and study any paperwork before his 9:30 appointment. I can't say I have prepared as much for a job interview!
He met me at the Starbucks almost 3 hours later. I thought he was teasing, when he told me he was denied. I asked again only to hear him relay the story again. The officer took his passport and asked: 'What is the reason you want to visit the US?' 'To spend Christmas with my girlfriend and her family' The officer handed a generic letter through the glass and quickly replied 'I'm sorry but No' Beni tried to ask for a reason but was silenced by the guy yelling 'Next'
The urge to cry made me rush out of Starbucks, I barely made it to Oxford Street before bursting into tears. I don't know if it was the disappointment that we would spend our first Christmas and New Years on other sides of the world; or the anger at my embassy's decision that he wasn't worthy; it was mostly the way he apologised for disappointing me. It was just another sign that our relationship, plagued with differences, was going to be more challenging that we realised. We have spent the past 2 months planning our holiday: the Christmas tree in NY, holiday parties with my friends and family, mummers parades, and maybe a day in DC. Now we are talking about our early Christmas before we both fly to our home countries.
I found myself defending American more than I am comfortable with since I've moved. If it isn't our politics, it's the American attitude. But this day has made me embarrassed, angry, and ashamed of our policies. I can't begin to think of a reason or an argument to defend this situation. We have lost sight of what made our country so appealing in the first place. I am bais, I know but I can't help feeling that this was nothing more than a clean cut case of discrimination. I cannot think of a person more deserving to see the world, yet he is denied for his nationality. I would love to see America's reaction if everyone started denying us entry for the passports we carry.
Maybe we are glutans for disappointment but we will try again. I refuse to let a beaurocrat behind glass tell me that my boyfriend and I are not worthy of the awkward meet the parents part of a relationship.
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Fingers Crossed...
I really hope my lucky streak continues or at least shines on the boy for a couple hours! I left, as he walked under the embarassingly large golden eagle into the Visa department of the US embassy. After 2 hours, the paperwork is in, fees are paid, and the nervousness has begun.
A last minute cancelation, provided a quick opportunity for the interview. So now I'm sitting in the Starbucks (for a what could be a very long wait) down the street hoping that they will see Beni for who he is: a sweet guy with no terrorist ties. We've practiced potential questions like destinations, travel dates, and contacts. He seems prepared but he gets flustered easily when he doesn't understand a question or phrase. It should be an easy process, but I have heard Visa story after Visa story, mostly of the horror variety. People turned away for no reason other than 'the US isn't accepting anyone right now, sorry'. I have no doubt why so many US passports get stolen and sold on the black market: foreigners took one look at our Visa application.
The first 6 pages are standard, name, passport number, and address. Then there is the page about your family, followed by the page of schooling since the age of 11. At this point we have been kicked off for taking too long to enter information, 6 times! I'm a native English speaker and I was unable to type fast enough for the US govt, how do ESL applicants ever managed to get past page 2? And then can the questionnaires, 'Do you finance terrorist organisations? Do you have experience in explosives or chemicals? Are you preparing to carry out a terrorist plan on American soil or citizens? Do you have ties with organised crime syndicates?
I want to know who has every answered yes...Did some person honestly believe the statement that 'yes' responses were not an automatic denial of an application? If terrorists can build bombs and fly planes, aren't they intelligent enough to lie on a form about their purposes in the country? There are 3 pages of the dumbest questions I have ever read! Who wrote this application?
I don't know if there is enough facebook stalking to be done, to make this wait a comfortable one. I keep looking at the door, hoping to see the boy cheering, but I think I still have a couple more hours of staring at the door. So everyone, cross your fingers that the kind people of Border Control put a pretty little stars and stripes stamp in an Albanian passport. It will crush both of us if he cannot spend the holidays with my friends and family as planned.....
A last minute cancelation, provided a quick opportunity for the interview. So now I'm sitting in the Starbucks (for a what could be a very long wait) down the street hoping that they will see Beni for who he is: a sweet guy with no terrorist ties. We've practiced potential questions like destinations, travel dates, and contacts. He seems prepared but he gets flustered easily when he doesn't understand a question or phrase. It should be an easy process, but I have heard Visa story after Visa story, mostly of the horror variety. People turned away for no reason other than 'the US isn't accepting anyone right now, sorry'. I have no doubt why so many US passports get stolen and sold on the black market: foreigners took one look at our Visa application.
The first 6 pages are standard, name, passport number, and address. Then there is the page about your family, followed by the page of schooling since the age of 11. At this point we have been kicked off for taking too long to enter information, 6 times! I'm a native English speaker and I was unable to type fast enough for the US govt, how do ESL applicants ever managed to get past page 2? And then can the questionnaires, 'Do you finance terrorist organisations? Do you have experience in explosives or chemicals? Are you preparing to carry out a terrorist plan on American soil or citizens? Do you have ties with organised crime syndicates?
I want to know who has every answered yes...Did some person honestly believe the statement that 'yes' responses were not an automatic denial of an application? If terrorists can build bombs and fly planes, aren't they intelligent enough to lie on a form about their purposes in the country? There are 3 pages of the dumbest questions I have ever read! Who wrote this application?
I don't know if there is enough facebook stalking to be done, to make this wait a comfortable one. I keep looking at the door, hoping to see the boy cheering, but I think I still have a couple more hours of staring at the door. So everyone, cross your fingers that the kind people of Border Control put a pretty little stars and stripes stamp in an Albanian passport. It will crush both of us if he cannot spend the holidays with my friends and family as planned.....
Monday, September 20, 2010
The light at the end of the tunnel!
Between the death of my grandfather, flathunting, and drama on the homefront, fleeing back to the comfort of Philly seemed like the most desirable option but my finances don't allow for running (a fact I should be grateful for) It feels like my journey to make a life in London, has become harder with each passing month...but I guess that's what happens when you try to create a fairytale: reality always catches up. September has brought with her, a new feeling...one I am not familiar with...the feeling of being 'trapped'. FYI: there is something very depressing about:
Being financially unstable aka too broke to fly home when something happens
Being unable to find sanctuary or space from a rocky relationship
Having to rely on others for money for food and transportation
Being overlooked by flat after flat after flat....
But I wouldn't be writing this if I still felt trapped....because emailing about being trapped worries family and friends.....and worst of all, causes me to have a breakdown...if I write that I'm trapped, I can no longer lie to myself...my mind would have written proof of the circumstances.
And just when I am ready to get back on the plane, the British gods cut me some slack. As of today, I have a home and money to afford myself, which is amazing considering I am not exactly a cheap date! My humble abode, flat #1,245 of the hunt, isn't what I envisioned but it will work. A double room on the 17th floor, with views of the city skyline and enough space to store all the crap I have accumulated in the last 9months. The bathrooms are not exactly what you would call welcoming...the tub doesn't set the stage for a relaxing, candle lit, bubble bath....it screams shower quick and hope you don't get Hep C(just kidding, its not that terrible and Hep C is curable anyway!) The tiolet is seperate from the shower and I can't help but wonder if it sits in a former hall closet. There is no common room, which is pretty typical for London flatsharing. The kitchen is nothing worth mentioning, although the windows look out to the London Eye which makes my tourist heart skip a beat. And then there is the door to a flatsharer's dream...no not a washer/dryer although it has that too...a roof terrace! Perfect for those 2 days a year when the sun is out.
Salim, my new flatmate seems nice enough, he's a 27 year old lawyer from Liverpool. Having a lawyer on your side, never can hurt... There's also a girl named Jenn, mid 30s (I'm guessing) who I met for two seconds when I picked up my keys. I'm pretty sure she's Brazilian but I was only half listening when Salim threw it in to conversation.
I did have some doubts, especially when I entered floor 17 (I'm technically 17 1/2) and saw stroller after stroller in front of every flat. It's half council housing, London's version of HUD housing. But in a city where everything is out of my price range, you have to give some things up... like standards. I was assured it was safe, I have to swipe a key pass 3 times before I enter my Fort Knox flat and 12 hour attendents are thrown in for good measure. All that said, I am excited. I have been dubbed not cool enough (well thats what I consider it when I want a flat chooses someone else) twice, been interrogated by potential flatmates, and raised my 'budget' 3 times!
So for a mere £660 I have a home but I am still struggling with the idea that my rent is $1,028 a month after conversion. Who pays that much for a room, not a house or even a 1 bedroom...just a room? Well as of Oct 1st, I will. At some point you have to give in, you can only stick to your price range for so long and if I stayed in that budget for any longer, I would end up in shady East London or even shadier South London.
Despite the strollers and questionable loo, I could not be more excited to move in. It is considerably cheap to live in Zone 1 (central London). I will be in Moorgate, which is great especially since my office will be moving 5 blocks from my flat in January, 30 minutes from school, and a quick walk or bus ride to my favorite drinking/dancing haunts!
My suitcases are dusted off, the Albanians have been given the good news, and I am already looking for decorative crap to hang on the walls. It couldnt come at a better time, the Albanians and I are experiencing an all time high on the tension scale....made worse by another girlfriends move. I can't say much because I am a transplanted girlfriend but I can say she makes me want to punch her in the face!
Being financially unstable aka too broke to fly home when something happens
Being unable to find sanctuary or space from a rocky relationship
Having to rely on others for money for food and transportation
Being overlooked by flat after flat after flat....
But I wouldn't be writing this if I still felt trapped....because emailing about being trapped worries family and friends.....and worst of all, causes me to have a breakdown...if I write that I'm trapped, I can no longer lie to myself...my mind would have written proof of the circumstances.
And just when I am ready to get back on the plane, the British gods cut me some slack. As of today, I have a home and money to afford myself, which is amazing considering I am not exactly a cheap date! My humble abode, flat #1,245 of the hunt, isn't what I envisioned but it will work. A double room on the 17th floor, with views of the city skyline and enough space to store all the crap I have accumulated in the last 9months. The bathrooms are not exactly what you would call welcoming...the tub doesn't set the stage for a relaxing, candle lit, bubble bath....it screams shower quick and hope you don't get Hep C(just kidding, its not that terrible and Hep C is curable anyway!) The tiolet is seperate from the shower and I can't help but wonder if it sits in a former hall closet. There is no common room, which is pretty typical for London flatsharing. The kitchen is nothing worth mentioning, although the windows look out to the London Eye which makes my tourist heart skip a beat. And then there is the door to a flatsharer's dream...no not a washer/dryer although it has that too...a roof terrace! Perfect for those 2 days a year when the sun is out.
Salim, my new flatmate seems nice enough, he's a 27 year old lawyer from Liverpool. Having a lawyer on your side, never can hurt... There's also a girl named Jenn, mid 30s (I'm guessing) who I met for two seconds when I picked up my keys. I'm pretty sure she's Brazilian but I was only half listening when Salim threw it in to conversation.
I did have some doubts, especially when I entered floor 17 (I'm technically 17 1/2) and saw stroller after stroller in front of every flat. It's half council housing, London's version of HUD housing. But in a city where everything is out of my price range, you have to give some things up... like standards. I was assured it was safe, I have to swipe a key pass 3 times before I enter my Fort Knox flat and 12 hour attendents are thrown in for good measure. All that said, I am excited. I have been dubbed not cool enough (well thats what I consider it when I want a flat chooses someone else) twice, been interrogated by potential flatmates, and raised my 'budget' 3 times!
So for a mere £660 I have a home but I am still struggling with the idea that my rent is $1,028 a month after conversion. Who pays that much for a room, not a house or even a 1 bedroom...just a room? Well as of Oct 1st, I will. At some point you have to give in, you can only stick to your price range for so long and if I stayed in that budget for any longer, I would end up in shady East London or even shadier South London.
Despite the strollers and questionable loo, I could not be more excited to move in. It is considerably cheap to live in Zone 1 (central London). I will be in Moorgate, which is great especially since my office will be moving 5 blocks from my flat in January, 30 minutes from school, and a quick walk or bus ride to my favorite drinking/dancing haunts!
My suitcases are dusted off, the Albanians have been given the good news, and I am already looking for decorative crap to hang on the walls. It couldnt come at a better time, the Albanians and I are experiencing an all time high on the tension scale....made worse by another girlfriends move. I can't say much because I am a transplanted girlfriend but I can say she makes me want to punch her in the face!
Sunday, September 12, 2010
So there is someone cooler...
I really hoped there wasn't but there was... there was someone cooler than me....at least in the minds of the Mornington Crescent flatmates. I waited all day, like a lovesick girl for a text, call, or email inviting me to move in. I waited for something that never came. The one flat that i really wanted has gone to what I can only assume is one badass dude/bitch. I guess if I want to get a good flat, I need to work on my coolness! The worst part was, I debated texting or emailing asking what happened. Luckily I realised, looking at/not getting a flat is nothing like a break up or a job interview.
Curses! I really hoped that my flat hunting days were over. To avoid slipping back into my funk, I'm heading out for the Thames festival, a parade and fireworks have to be enough to keep me happy, at least for today.
Curses! I really hoped that my flat hunting days were over. To avoid slipping back into my funk, I'm heading out for the Thames festival, a parade and fireworks have to be enough to keep me happy, at least for today.
Saturday, September 11, 2010
Glen is not my Friend
I give him up, Glen and I are over. He's cheap, he's abusive, and he over stays his welcome the next morning. I can't think of one redeeming quality. He made me fall in a bar, dance (I can only assume) like a retard, twist my ankle from previously stated fall, Spill beer all over myself, drunk dial the US from Beni's phone(including an old Lovaaa....thank god he didn't answer!), Loose all my money (later found hidden in my bra), have a heart to heart with a relative stranger (classmate with whom I've said 2 words to) and force Beni to wake up at 3am and pay my unpaid cab bill.
The night is blurry images to an old school hip hop soundtrack. I will never again, pay £5 for a 1/5 of Glen Vodka, drink it all in the name of pregaming, and go out! Because Glen is not my friend.....
The night is blurry images to an old school hip hop soundtrack. I will never again, pay £5 for a 1/5 of Glen Vodka, drink it all in the name of pregaming, and go out! Because Glen is not my friend.....
Friday, September 10, 2010
Flat Hunting
Flat 1: Mile End, 550 a month. Right at the top of my price range. A quick right out of the station brings you to the door, it really couldn't get any closer to public transpertation. The room was on the bottom floor, a double bed, wardrobe, desk, and small bookcase fit nicely into the double room. And then the best part: a door leading to a small private garden, private as in only my room has access! I wanted to take it right then and there just to have a garden. The kitchen wasn't bad, typical kitchen. The bathroom was nice, recently refinished and a seperate tiolet which is always a bonus in a flatshare. It checked a lot of boxes but still a little too far from things, a little too pricey, and no cable....I love trashy TV too much to let that slide. I also never met the flatmates which made me hesitant.
Flat 2: Stoke Newington 500 a month. 10 minutes walk to the Aresnal tube, a 10 minute walk through a very residential area, filled with mostly families. 2 out of 4 flatmates showed me around the 3 story house. A huge double bedroom included a double bed, mint green futon,black fireplace, white wardrobe, closet, desk and bookcase...by far the biggest purple rubbish bin relic bedroom ever! The orange curtains made me throw up but that can always be modified to something less dreadful. The flat had 2 bathroom, a huge kitchen, living room and small garden. 2 Americans and 2 Brits share the flat, 3 men and 1 girl. The girl questioned me over tea, how often did my boyfriend visit? Am I loud? What time do I come home at night? How often do I drink? I was an interview to be the prime and proper flatmate, I'm not. I left knowing immediately that I could never feel comfortable living there.
Flat 3: Borough 450 a month. A 5 minute walk to the tube and one of my favorite markets. It's clearly ex-council housing. I made my way up to the flat on the 3 floor of the complex. The landlord showed me around the small flat. The double room included barred windows, a double bed, more rubbish bin relics of desks and bookcases. A fridge stood in the corner of the room, theft of food has been an issue in the past. A closet tiolet and a bigger closet for the shower. It's a must wear shower shoes kind of shower, smashed hole in the tiles and everything. There are two other bedrooms, one girl is traveling and padlocked her door for her trip, the other is new. The former flatmate was kicked out because her boyfriend walked around the flat naked. I tried in my kindest voice to tell the landloard I wasn't interested...something about bars, padlocks, and holes in the shower do not scream home to me!
Flat 4: Mornington Crescent 465 a month. 2 blocks from the station and a close walk to Camden. It's secure and gated. 2 British men share the flat currently. The double room is a good size fit with all the necessities. A seperate shower and tiolet and a good size kitchen. The flatmate and I got along great and for the first time I felt like I could live there. We seemed to share similar attitudes and lifestyles.
Just a small picture of my options. With things getting more awkward by the minute at home, I called back flat #1- TAKEN. Flat 2 and 3: Not an option! Flat #4: I am waiting. Waiting to see if they like me too. Flatshare viewings are the new job interview. You put your smiling face on, try to show your personality in 10 minutes, and wait to hear if they like you too.
So I'm waiting and hoping that my suitcases will start rolling on Monday. Until then, more flathunting it is....
Flat 2: Stoke Newington 500 a month. 10 minutes walk to the Aresnal tube, a 10 minute walk through a very residential area, filled with mostly families. 2 out of 4 flatmates showed me around the 3 story house. A huge double bedroom included a double bed, mint green futon,black fireplace, white wardrobe, closet, desk and bookcase...by far the biggest purple rubbish bin relic bedroom ever! The orange curtains made me throw up but that can always be modified to something less dreadful. The flat had 2 bathroom, a huge kitchen, living room and small garden. 2 Americans and 2 Brits share the flat, 3 men and 1 girl. The girl questioned me over tea, how often did my boyfriend visit? Am I loud? What time do I come home at night? How often do I drink? I was an interview to be the prime and proper flatmate, I'm not. I left knowing immediately that I could never feel comfortable living there.
Flat 3: Borough 450 a month. A 5 minute walk to the tube and one of my favorite markets. It's clearly ex-council housing. I made my way up to the flat on the 3 floor of the complex. The landlord showed me around the small flat. The double room included barred windows, a double bed, more rubbish bin relics of desks and bookcases. A fridge stood in the corner of the room, theft of food has been an issue in the past. A closet tiolet and a bigger closet for the shower. It's a must wear shower shoes kind of shower, smashed hole in the tiles and everything. There are two other bedrooms, one girl is traveling and padlocked her door for her trip, the other is new. The former flatmate was kicked out because her boyfriend walked around the flat naked. I tried in my kindest voice to tell the landloard I wasn't interested...something about bars, padlocks, and holes in the shower do not scream home to me!
Flat 4: Mornington Crescent 465 a month. 2 blocks from the station and a close walk to Camden. It's secure and gated. 2 British men share the flat currently. The double room is a good size fit with all the necessities. A seperate shower and tiolet and a good size kitchen. The flatmate and I got along great and for the first time I felt like I could live there. We seemed to share similar attitudes and lifestyles.
Just a small picture of my options. With things getting more awkward by the minute at home, I called back flat #1- TAKEN. Flat 2 and 3: Not an option! Flat #4: I am waiting. Waiting to see if they like me too. Flatshare viewings are the new job interview. You put your smiling face on, try to show your personality in 10 minutes, and wait to hear if they like you too.
So I'm waiting and hoping that my suitcases will start rolling on Monday. Until then, more flathunting it is....
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Hiatus!
Its been 15 days since my last post.....
In those days, I have lost my Grandfather, struggled with the guilt of being unable to be there for family and friends, and weighed my relationship worth.
It's not for lack of events, it's purely a survival tactic...if I don't write it, I can ignore it.
It's been a much darker version of London Falling....more like London's slippery, muddy, downward slope....I won't lie and say there haven't been moments sunshine, instances where I pulled myself a little further back up the hill but each step I took up, I slide down a couple more....first it was the guilt of being away from friends, then it was a death in the family, next it was the urge to punch a peacefully sleeping boyfriend, and finally it was the daunting task of flathunting, each one made me dread the next terrible excuse for accomodation.
So I've decided, I'm going to bang my way back to the top....Self perscription: Lots of sex, more time with friends, and taking time to fall back in love with London!
In those days, I have lost my Grandfather, struggled with the guilt of being unable to be there for family and friends, and weighed my relationship worth.
It's not for lack of events, it's purely a survival tactic...if I don't write it, I can ignore it.
It's been a much darker version of London Falling....more like London's slippery, muddy, downward slope....I won't lie and say there haven't been moments sunshine, instances where I pulled myself a little further back up the hill but each step I took up, I slide down a couple more....first it was the guilt of being away from friends, then it was a death in the family, next it was the urge to punch a peacefully sleeping boyfriend, and finally it was the daunting task of flathunting, each one made me dread the next terrible excuse for accomodation.
So I've decided, I'm going to bang my way back to the top....Self perscription: Lots of sex, more time with friends, and taking time to fall back in love with London!
Sunday, August 22, 2010
A Life Changing EMail
I came across this the other day.... exactly a year ago I sent this email:
Hey everyone,
I would rather call all of you but what the hell I can't wait for work to end to spill it. It's official! I got into London Metropolitan University, I move to London in January for at least a year!!!! Just wanted to let you all know cause I heart you and of course you will all be the hardest thing to leave....which is why you all have to visit!!!!
Cheers!!!
Hey everyone,
I would rather call all of you but what the hell I can't wait for work to end to spill it. It's official! I got into London Metropolitan University, I move to London in January for at least a year!!!! Just wanted to let you all know cause I heart you and of course you will all be the hardest thing to leave....which is why you all have to visit!!!!
Cheers!!!
Monday, August 16, 2010
Home Sweet Home
I have never been so excited to get on a plane! It was weird flying into London instead of Philly a couple of months ago but with each flight, I feel more at home entering Heathrow. I didn't even mind the long tube ride to my flat, I was just glad there was a shower, proper toilet, cold water, and a whole closet full of tanks, shorts, and skirts waiting for me! For the first time, Beni didn't pick me up from the airport...I wasn't that surprised that he couldn't wait till 6:30 to see me, leaving work early he met me at home.
I have become so accustomed to seeing him everyday that we both found it tough to be apart for 10 days. (Cue gagging motions). It made it worse that we had practically no contact throughout the whole experience. We spent the week catching up and being lazy. As much as relationships can annoy me at moments, it was nice to come home to him.
I dragged myself to work the day after I got back which is good considering I have £3 in my account. Egypt has completely wiped out my UK accounts meaning I am completely and utterly relient on a boy. I promised myself I would never rely on a boy for money or anything else for that matter but I guess those standards changed while I was off blowing money on fun and travel. I hate everything about it and find it hard to respect myself when Beni leaves cash on the counter, it's almost borderline Pretty Woman of me. In between hating myself for it, I appreciate that I have someone who is willing to take care of me and in Beni's case everyone else. I wonder if I would have been as willing to hand him money for the tube, lunch, and clothes if he was without work. I would like to think I would but you never can tell. The worse part is I am not the only one on Beni's bankroll, we have all come to joke that Beni is the bank and I am the Boss....
But all that will be better on Friday, I get my first paycheck!!!! So it's gonna be a good good weekend!!! Gotta take the sugar daddy out and the Albanians too as a thanks for letting me stay rent free for 3 months, and there is a huge carnival in Notting Hill. It's also a bank holiday so I get off on Monday....if the weather improves from constant rain, Beni and I might even venture out to the country for a couple nights.
Work is going very well, it's gonna be a big challenge but one that I am more than capable of achieving. Everyday has been filled with trustee meetings and consultant lunches, i have been thrown right in with the expectation of hitting the ground running. I never thought i would say this but its good to be back to work!!!
I have become so accustomed to seeing him everyday that we both found it tough to be apart for 10 days. (Cue gagging motions). It made it worse that we had practically no contact throughout the whole experience. We spent the week catching up and being lazy. As much as relationships can annoy me at moments, it was nice to come home to him.
I dragged myself to work the day after I got back which is good considering I have £3 in my account. Egypt has completely wiped out my UK accounts meaning I am completely and utterly relient on a boy. I promised myself I would never rely on a boy for money or anything else for that matter but I guess those standards changed while I was off blowing money on fun and travel. I hate everything about it and find it hard to respect myself when Beni leaves cash on the counter, it's almost borderline Pretty Woman of me. In between hating myself for it, I appreciate that I have someone who is willing to take care of me and in Beni's case everyone else. I wonder if I would have been as willing to hand him money for the tube, lunch, and clothes if he was without work. I would like to think I would but you never can tell. The worse part is I am not the only one on Beni's bankroll, we have all come to joke that Beni is the bank and I am the Boss....
But all that will be better on Friday, I get my first paycheck!!!! So it's gonna be a good good weekend!!! Gotta take the sugar daddy out and the Albanians too as a thanks for letting me stay rent free for 3 months, and there is a huge carnival in Notting Hill. It's also a bank holiday so I get off on Monday....if the weather improves from constant rain, Beni and I might even venture out to the country for a couple nights.
Work is going very well, it's gonna be a big challenge but one that I am more than capable of achieving. Everyday has been filled with trustee meetings and consultant lunches, i have been thrown right in with the expectation of hitting the ground running. I never thought i would say this but its good to be back to work!!!
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Day 10: Last Minute Looks
Despite being ready to go home, I am not ready to give up a whole day no matter how tired I am. Calling our buddy Tomm, we set up to hire a driver for the day to see Saqqara, Dhashur, and Memphis. Mr. Tickles drove us to Saqqara, home of the step pyramid, the first attempt at a pyramid. Saqqara is home to tombs and the burial ground of early dynasty royalties. Unfortunately, the step pyramid is under construction (repair work) preventing any up close and personal contact with the first pyramid.
After exploring Saqqara, we headed to Dhashur, the site of 3 (well now 2) pyramids: the red, black, and bent pyramids. The bent pyramid, the most famous of the 3, was planned to be a normal pyramid but the dimensions were off, forcing the builders to adjust the structure to prevent collapse. The adjustments left the structure curved and bent halfway up. The red pyramid, which is not red in fact, is said to be the world's first smooth sided pyramid. Tourists can climb halfway up the side of the structure and enter it. I have become increasingly scared of heights but I trudged up anyway, freaking out inside about the uneven marble steps and rickety wooden railing. Like the pyramids at Giza, you enter bent at the waist, walking down the slope....the difference is this one is a lot deeper since you enter from halfway up. Hot and already feeling sick, I made it in only a couple meters out of 150 before freaking out. The hot and thin air made me nauseous, I turned and climbed back out. Ashley and Rebecca, who are not pussies about it, carried on the 100-150 meter slope.
I didn't mind waiting for them to return, its not everyday that you can sit on the side of a pyramid staring off into the desert....
The black pyramid is badly damaged and can only be seen from a distance. The same goes for the Bent, it too is closed. Sick, I tried to sleep on the way to Memphis and shake it. The former capital of Egypt, houses only a museum, one we declined to pay to enter. Mr Tickles had a stop to make before returning to Cairo. He drove down narrow streets, chickens and children reluctantly moved out of his path. Children gathered and stared at us while we waited. Upon returning, Mr. Tickles made impressive manuevers out of the narrow, shabby neighborhood. Easing through the streets, children began following the car, banging loudly on windows, waving. We giggled and waved back, which only encouraged the little boys. Mr. Tickles stopped short and opened the door, sending the kids scattering. It only took the car inching forward to send them lunging back to wave and yell. This continued until, Mr. Tickles had enough, this time opening the door and chasing them back. As we drove away, the kids followed in our wake....
Mr. Tickles dropped us off at our hostel for our last night. We found good takeaway and spent the night talking to fellow travelors and reading outside before going to bed early.
Our flight leaves at 7:30am, we left for the airport at 4:30 because there is nothing in the world that could make me miss my flight back to civilization!!!!
After exploring Saqqara, we headed to Dhashur, the site of 3 (well now 2) pyramids: the red, black, and bent pyramids. The bent pyramid, the most famous of the 3, was planned to be a normal pyramid but the dimensions were off, forcing the builders to adjust the structure to prevent collapse. The adjustments left the structure curved and bent halfway up. The red pyramid, which is not red in fact, is said to be the world's first smooth sided pyramid. Tourists can climb halfway up the side of the structure and enter it. I have become increasingly scared of heights but I trudged up anyway, freaking out inside about the uneven marble steps and rickety wooden railing. Like the pyramids at Giza, you enter bent at the waist, walking down the slope....the difference is this one is a lot deeper since you enter from halfway up. Hot and already feeling sick, I made it in only a couple meters out of 150 before freaking out. The hot and thin air made me nauseous, I turned and climbed back out. Ashley and Rebecca, who are not pussies about it, carried on the 100-150 meter slope.
I didn't mind waiting for them to return, its not everyday that you can sit on the side of a pyramid staring off into the desert....
The black pyramid is badly damaged and can only be seen from a distance. The same goes for the Bent, it too is closed. Sick, I tried to sleep on the way to Memphis and shake it. The former capital of Egypt, houses only a museum, one we declined to pay to enter. Mr Tickles had a stop to make before returning to Cairo. He drove down narrow streets, chickens and children reluctantly moved out of his path. Children gathered and stared at us while we waited. Upon returning, Mr. Tickles made impressive manuevers out of the narrow, shabby neighborhood. Easing through the streets, children began following the car, banging loudly on windows, waving. We giggled and waved back, which only encouraged the little boys. Mr. Tickles stopped short and opened the door, sending the kids scattering. It only took the car inching forward to send them lunging back to wave and yell. This continued until, Mr. Tickles had enough, this time opening the door and chasing them back. As we drove away, the kids followed in our wake....
Mr. Tickles dropped us off at our hostel for our last night. We found good takeaway and spent the night talking to fellow travelors and reading outside before going to bed early.
Our flight leaves at 7:30am, we left for the airport at 4:30 because there is nothing in the world that could make me miss my flight back to civilization!!!!
Saturday, August 14, 2010
Day 9: The Real Cairo
Our assistant tour guide, Mario accompanied us to Cairo. Mario is a nice guy, a little touchy feely but a nice guy. He has offered to take us on a 'back street tour'...considering we got in at 5am and left for our walking tour at 10am, I knew it would be nothing short of tiring!
We started with a ride downtown on the Metro. Despite tour book horror stories, it was fine, it was clean, and not very much different than any other mass transit system. For six hours we walked through Cairo, the markets, old Cairo, downtown, and most memorably the areas 'local' areas of Cairo. Despite being with a group, we had to be careful in these areas, it is very poor and not exactly the most welcoming part of town. At one point Mario told the women to stay in the middle with our eyes down and our few guys to surround us. I can only imagine the words that were uttered at we passed by. Again I am thankful that Beni did not come along for the trip.
Crossing the road is a death sentence in Cairo and not for the faint at heart or weak in the bladder. We learned this on the first day but I can't even describe the effort it takes to make it from one side to the other without dying. If I had my choice I would hire a car to drive me from one side to the other....pedestrian walkways do not exist, the few that they have are ignored! The only way to do it is: close your eyes, step into traffic, and don't stop moving....ever! Luckily Mario attempted to stop traffic and made us hold hands to prevent any causalties!
We stopped twice during the day once at the Groppi bakery, the site where Egyptians held a sercret meeting to plan the ass kicking of their British occupants and the other a shisa cafe. Tired and sweaty from 6 hours of walking the city, we went back to rest and shower. By 9 we were wide awake and ready for more of that Egyptian beer. We planned on one, maybe two, but like always the night took a different turn....a table full of beers with our Aussie buddy.
And since I become a chatty cathy after a couple of beers, I started chatting with the locals. The bar manager and bartender were very open and nice, before long the bartender was showing me pictures of his wife and kids. His wife, a stunning women was uncovered at their wedding. I paid my compliments and found a way to ask if she too had to cover her face like other women in Egypt. Not surprisingly, she did. I can appreciate so much about different cultures and religions but I will never understand or accept keeping a women in a dark cloak of religion. I cannot imagine, the muslim religion was ever meant for that interpretation. Without trying to pry or offend, I asked why he would cover the face of such a beautiful woman instead on walking proudly down the street with a beautiful woman on his arm? Unoffended by my question, clearly he gets it alot, he replied 'she is only mine to look at'
And that sums up my trip, it is a whole lot of interpretations, misunderstandings, and questions.
We started with a ride downtown on the Metro. Despite tour book horror stories, it was fine, it was clean, and not very much different than any other mass transit system. For six hours we walked through Cairo, the markets, old Cairo, downtown, and most memorably the areas 'local' areas of Cairo. Despite being with a group, we had to be careful in these areas, it is very poor and not exactly the most welcoming part of town. At one point Mario told the women to stay in the middle with our eyes down and our few guys to surround us. I can only imagine the words that were uttered at we passed by. Again I am thankful that Beni did not come along for the trip.
Crossing the road is a death sentence in Cairo and not for the faint at heart or weak in the bladder. We learned this on the first day but I can't even describe the effort it takes to make it from one side to the other without dying. If I had my choice I would hire a car to drive me from one side to the other....pedestrian walkways do not exist, the few that they have are ignored! The only way to do it is: close your eyes, step into traffic, and don't stop moving....ever! Luckily Mario attempted to stop traffic and made us hold hands to prevent any causalties!
We stopped twice during the day once at the Groppi bakery, the site where Egyptians held a sercret meeting to plan the ass kicking of their British occupants and the other a shisa cafe. Tired and sweaty from 6 hours of walking the city, we went back to rest and shower. By 9 we were wide awake and ready for more of that Egyptian beer. We planned on one, maybe two, but like always the night took a different turn....a table full of beers with our Aussie buddy.
And since I become a chatty cathy after a couple of beers, I started chatting with the locals. The bar manager and bartender were very open and nice, before long the bartender was showing me pictures of his wife and kids. His wife, a stunning women was uncovered at their wedding. I paid my compliments and found a way to ask if she too had to cover her face like other women in Egypt. Not surprisingly, she did. I can appreciate so much about different cultures and religions but I will never understand or accept keeping a women in a dark cloak of religion. I cannot imagine, the muslim religion was ever meant for that interpretation. Without trying to pry or offend, I asked why he would cover the face of such a beautiful woman instead on walking proudly down the street with a beautiful woman on his arm? Unoffended by my question, clearly he gets it alot, he replied 'she is only mine to look at'
And that sums up my trip, it is a whole lot of interpretations, misunderstandings, and questions.
Friday, August 13, 2010
Day 8: Valley of the Kings
No trip to Egypt would be complete without visiting the final resting place of the Pharaohs of the New Kingdom. Hidden in the secluded valley in the Theban Hills, the Valley of the Kings was chosen as the final desitination for over 60 royal leaders. We left the bus disappointed with the restriction on photography but ready to enter tomb after tomb. Our ticket included entrance into 3 tombs, one from the 18th, 19th, and 20th dynasties, demonstrating the varying approach to tomb building. Unfortunately, almost all tombs succombed to graverobbers, leaving very little if anything (some mummys were even stolen) inside. This is why King Tut's discovery was so important, it gave a glimmer of what was housed inside more powerful leaders tombs. Egytians did everything in their power to prevent grave robberies. The mountain, made up of limestone, served at an obstacle to robbers. The funeral procession climbed (sarchofocus included) from Luxor directly over the mountain to the tomb. Again I would have made a terrible Egyptain, its not exactly an easy climb. Tunnels and rooms were carved out of the stone sometimes as far as 130 meters in the moutain. Our first tomb of Thutmose II, of the 18th dynasty, was a quite a hike up stairs before climbing straight back down inside the mountain. Like in the pyramids, it was a matter of minutes before we were soaked with sweat. The tomb had two chambers, we stopped in chamber one to view the story of the Pharoahs descent into the underworld. Another steap, bent at the waist climb, before we reached the second chamber. Despite the thousands of years that passed, the blues and reds are still vivid on the walls. Uncomfortable with the heat, we started our ascent to fresh air. Even with the humidity, the air was refreshing and sun bright. Tomb 2 was carved straight back into the mountain, making it cooler than the first. With an unexpected death, the tomb is only partially complete. There are 70 days between death and the time of burial, during these 70 days any final or rushed changes to the tomb are made. The first half of the tomb is carved heiroglyphics, the second is painted. The accuracy and conformity of the symbols are amazing. I can barely write my name the same way twice, let alone re-create a lion over and over again in the same dimensions. Teams of artists, painters, and carvers work the span of their lives on a rulers tomb. It's amazing how much work and wealth is put into each tomb, especially with the idea that it was never to be seen again once the ruler died.
Our final time of Ramsesses II was the most intricately decorated. Vibrant colors and carvings covered the walls and ceilings leading to the burial chamber. Unfortunately flooding has damaged deeper chambers preventing us from walking all the way through.
On Egyptologist is beyond knowledgable so much so that he barely stops to breath, I question his use of gills. His knowledge is helpful but his voice sounds strangely as if someone has a constant vice grip around his balls. After a while it is nothing but nails on a chalkboard with facts thrown in. Nontheless, he shows us some amazing things.
On our drive out of the valley we passed temple and temple, mostly in ruins, just laying in fields along side the road. We stopped twice more before heading back to Luxor. First jumping off the bus briefly for tourist pictures of the Colossi of Memnon, two massive 3,000 year old statues. Pictures snapped and back on the bus for another sales pitch, this time for Alabaster trinkets, vases, bowls, statues, and anything else you can possibly make from the stone. Fun fact: Alabaster vases and jars used to hold (and keep) the organs of those mummified. Nothing like your heart in a jar....
Tired of being pitched to, I boarded the bus early....looking forward to some down time. We never sleep more than a few hours on a bus or half a night in hotel. I am beyond exhausted....
so I used our free time in Luxor for a shower and nap. Tonight we are in for a long bus ride...9 hours back to Cairo. Our is splitting up, 9 return to Cairo and the remaining 26 begin a week of diving, relaxation, and resort living in Dahab a resort town along the red sea.
4 hours into the ride we said goodbye to our new friends, seeing a resort town (where drinking and cleavage are accepted) makes it hard to not regret staying on for that extra week, afterall it would have only been another £100 pounds....
But back to Cairo it is....
Our final time of Ramsesses II was the most intricately decorated. Vibrant colors and carvings covered the walls and ceilings leading to the burial chamber. Unfortunately flooding has damaged deeper chambers preventing us from walking all the way through.
On Egyptologist is beyond knowledgable so much so that he barely stops to breath, I question his use of gills. His knowledge is helpful but his voice sounds strangely as if someone has a constant vice grip around his balls. After a while it is nothing but nails on a chalkboard with facts thrown in. Nontheless, he shows us some amazing things.
On our drive out of the valley we passed temple and temple, mostly in ruins, just laying in fields along side the road. We stopped twice more before heading back to Luxor. First jumping off the bus briefly for tourist pictures of the Colossi of Memnon, two massive 3,000 year old statues. Pictures snapped and back on the bus for another sales pitch, this time for Alabaster trinkets, vases, bowls, statues, and anything else you can possibly make from the stone. Fun fact: Alabaster vases and jars used to hold (and keep) the organs of those mummified. Nothing like your heart in a jar....
Tired of being pitched to, I boarded the bus early....looking forward to some down time. We never sleep more than a few hours on a bus or half a night in hotel. I am beyond exhausted....
so I used our free time in Luxor for a shower and nap. Tonight we are in for a long bus ride...9 hours back to Cairo. Our is splitting up, 9 return to Cairo and the remaining 26 begin a week of diving, relaxation, and resort living in Dahab a resort town along the red sea.
4 hours into the ride we said goodbye to our new friends, seeing a resort town (where drinking and cleavage are accepted) makes it hard to not regret staying on for that extra week, afterall it would have only been another £100 pounds....
But back to Cairo it is....
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Day 7: Luxor's Little Bastards
The cool quiet of the Nile was traded for sticky, sweat, exhaust smelling bus ride. By 8am we were at Kom Ombo temple. The temple, not very well known but well preserved by Egyptian standards. The temple was built in honor of two gods so it housed two seperate alters and two enterance ways to the sanctuary.
After that fairly quick stop we checked into our hotel....there is nothing better than a nice shower, with soap after two days of bathing in the Nile! All fresh and clean, Ashley and I headed out to take advantage of an afternoon of free-time. Conservatively dressed, we walked towards the Luxor temple, which sits visibly in the middle of the city. By day 7, we are used to every cab honking, horse and buggy begging to take us on a ride, tour guides offering excursions, it is exhausting how many times you can refuse in a 10 minute walk. The heat was unbareable, worst than any other day so far, which is bad when everyday averages around 35-39 C. On the back end of the temple, we started being followed by two little boys....'miss, miss, you American, Obama Obama, miss miss, money money' all while motioning that they needed to eat. Sounds heartbreaking and it would have been if I wasn't over these little beggars...yes, I'm heartless but I have accepted my little place in hell for refusing to give every beggar a pound. After 2 or 3 times, we started ignoring them, that is until one little boy grabbed my hand, seconds before 'accidently' grabbing my ass. I told Ash and we both chuckled, until they ran up again, this time he blantely patted my behind, no so funny the second time around. Pat me once, shame on you...Pat me twice, shame on me....Run up and grab my boobs and there is nothing I can do. Ash and I stopped as we heard them run up on us again, not so kindly we grabbed their hands adn told them to not touch us, as we let go, one decided it was perfect time for a grope. Looking around, seeing there were only men on the street, I weighed my options. I could A. Punt the little bastard B. Curse, scream, and chase him C. Yell for one of the adults to handle it. I settled for cursing, threatening, and walking toward the only muslim woman on the street. Disturbed by the actions of the boy, she let us walk a short distance with her. We walked out of our way to avoid the 10 minute walk back down the road of hassel.
As funny as it later became, there is something beyond disturbing about 7-10 year boys attempting anything of the kind adn worse knowing they could get away with it. As much as part of me regrets not pulling a Homer Simpson and choking him, I know it would have not ended well for me....I don't think the Egyptian men would have taken kindly to a white girl beating one of their own.
We spent the rest of the afternoon in the air conditioning....
There were only two things that crossed my mind that day: I want to go home. And thank god Beni isn't here, his protective attitude would still be barred inside an Egyptian prison.
Later that night we met up with our group again to visit another silver shop, have a nice dinner, and visit the Luxor markets. I love haggeling but by now I might kill someone if they say 'Hey Shakira, I make good pirce for you' one more time! I will look at your shitty Tchotchkes if you leave me alone! Did I mention I am ready to go home???
After that fairly quick stop we checked into our hotel....there is nothing better than a nice shower, with soap after two days of bathing in the Nile! All fresh and clean, Ashley and I headed out to take advantage of an afternoon of free-time. Conservatively dressed, we walked towards the Luxor temple, which sits visibly in the middle of the city. By day 7, we are used to every cab honking, horse and buggy begging to take us on a ride, tour guides offering excursions, it is exhausting how many times you can refuse in a 10 minute walk. The heat was unbareable, worst than any other day so far, which is bad when everyday averages around 35-39 C. On the back end of the temple, we started being followed by two little boys....'miss, miss, you American, Obama Obama, miss miss, money money' all while motioning that they needed to eat. Sounds heartbreaking and it would have been if I wasn't over these little beggars...yes, I'm heartless but I have accepted my little place in hell for refusing to give every beggar a pound. After 2 or 3 times, we started ignoring them, that is until one little boy grabbed my hand, seconds before 'accidently' grabbing my ass. I told Ash and we both chuckled, until they ran up again, this time he blantely patted my behind, no so funny the second time around. Pat me once, shame on you...Pat me twice, shame on me....Run up and grab my boobs and there is nothing I can do. Ash and I stopped as we heard them run up on us again, not so kindly we grabbed their hands adn told them to not touch us, as we let go, one decided it was perfect time for a grope. Looking around, seeing there were only men on the street, I weighed my options. I could A. Punt the little bastard B. Curse, scream, and chase him C. Yell for one of the adults to handle it. I settled for cursing, threatening, and walking toward the only muslim woman on the street. Disturbed by the actions of the boy, she let us walk a short distance with her. We walked out of our way to avoid the 10 minute walk back down the road of hassel.
As funny as it later became, there is something beyond disturbing about 7-10 year boys attempting anything of the kind adn worse knowing they could get away with it. As much as part of me regrets not pulling a Homer Simpson and choking him, I know it would have not ended well for me....I don't think the Egyptian men would have taken kindly to a white girl beating one of their own.
We spent the rest of the afternoon in the air conditioning....
There were only two things that crossed my mind that day: I want to go home. And thank god Beni isn't here, his protective attitude would still be barred inside an Egyptian prison.
Later that night we met up with our group again to visit another silver shop, have a nice dinner, and visit the Luxor markets. I love haggeling but by now I might kill someone if they say 'Hey Shakira, I make good pirce for you' one more time! I will look at your shitty Tchotchkes if you leave me alone! Did I mention I am ready to go home???
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Day 6: I'm on a Boat!!!!
Today is meant for one thing and one thing only: relaxing and maybe a smidge of drinking. I woke up surprisingly refreshed and early, without one trace of a hangover. Even without hangovers, sailing started to take its toll on the stomachs, imodium was passed around like candy and we all realised how thankful we were for bathrooms. The girls and I managed to avoid the water, keeping our stomachs safe, that is until our Egytian crew cooked, washed utensils, and did god knows what else with water from the Nile....we docked further down the river, for lunch, bathroom breaks, and an afternoon swim. I am a fan of peeing outside but anything else not so much...it's even weirder when donkeys, horses, and sheep wander and bahhh in your section of the bushes. But traveling is all about the stories and I got my fair share so far...
Cooled by the water, we set sail again for a few hours before docking for the night. Our daily booze order was delivered by motor boat along the way. With Ramadon in full swing, it's hard not to feel an equal sense of pity and respect for our crew. 3 times a day they cook for us and pack the fridge with beer and water, unable to drink or eat any of it, I don't think I have ever displayed that kind of committment to anything, especially anything that did not benefit me in the end. I wish I had half of their dedication...
We docked as the sun began to set, the sky filled with bright orange and red over the tan sand. In the middle of the Nile, Egypt seems overwhelmingly beautiful and untainted. Sitting on the feluccas, we watched our crews gather in a family like celebration. A blanket was lain out, one man poured water, another filled the sheet with dishes, and everyone gathered around to signal the end of fasting for the day. I couldn't help but to watch as they all ate and drank a days worth of food following the sunset. With that we cracked open beers and bottles of vodka to start the night
Our tour guide Ramseys and Mario planned a surprise for our final night on the water. We drank, chatted, and layed about waiting for our surprise. With only stars lighting the sky, our crew started building a fire. The fire cracked along with the beating of drums and Nubian chants. Our guides gathered us around the fire to sit and listen to before encouraging us to dance around the fire. Our crew member Nubian Mohommad, led us clockwise and counterclockwise to the beats of the drum. We danced for what seemed like hours, drunk on beer and music. Before the fire died out, we were seperated into Nationalities and given a challenge. Each country was to get together and perform a song...after much debate over Yankee Doodle vs. God Bless America, we settled somewhere in left field with a well known favorite: The Fresh Prince theme song, I won't say we made Jazzy Jeff proud but I will say our song beat the British, Australian, South Africa, and New Zealanders....but we could not beat the Nubians, especially when a part of the drumming chants included a line or two from In the Jungle!
We drank for a little while after the fire before dying down ourselves. We all slept straight through the night drifting and docking. The boat has been the most peacful deep sleep I have had in months. With one final breakfast on the boat done, we climbed back on to our bus to finish our journey to Aswan.
Cooled by the water, we set sail again for a few hours before docking for the night. Our daily booze order was delivered by motor boat along the way. With Ramadon in full swing, it's hard not to feel an equal sense of pity and respect for our crew. 3 times a day they cook for us and pack the fridge with beer and water, unable to drink or eat any of it, I don't think I have ever displayed that kind of committment to anything, especially anything that did not benefit me in the end. I wish I had half of their dedication...
We docked as the sun began to set, the sky filled with bright orange and red over the tan sand. In the middle of the Nile, Egypt seems overwhelmingly beautiful and untainted. Sitting on the feluccas, we watched our crews gather in a family like celebration. A blanket was lain out, one man poured water, another filled the sheet with dishes, and everyone gathered around to signal the end of fasting for the day. I couldn't help but to watch as they all ate and drank a days worth of food following the sunset. With that we cracked open beers and bottles of vodka to start the night
Our tour guide Ramseys and Mario planned a surprise for our final night on the water. We drank, chatted, and layed about waiting for our surprise. With only stars lighting the sky, our crew started building a fire. The fire cracked along with the beating of drums and Nubian chants. Our guides gathered us around the fire to sit and listen to before encouraging us to dance around the fire. Our crew member Nubian Mohommad, led us clockwise and counterclockwise to the beats of the drum. We danced for what seemed like hours, drunk on beer and music. Before the fire died out, we were seperated into Nationalities and given a challenge. Each country was to get together and perform a song...after much debate over Yankee Doodle vs. God Bless America, we settled somewhere in left field with a well known favorite: The Fresh Prince theme song, I won't say we made Jazzy Jeff proud but I will say our song beat the British, Australian, South Africa, and New Zealanders....but we could not beat the Nubians, especially when a part of the drumming chants included a line or two from In the Jungle!
We drank for a little while after the fire before dying down ourselves. We all slept straight through the night drifting and docking. The boat has been the most peacful deep sleep I have had in months. With one final breakfast on the boat done, we climbed back on to our bus to finish our journey to Aswan.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Day 5: Setting Sail
Another day, another early wake up call. 3am awake, 330 in the lobby 3:45 in line for the caravan to Abu Simbel, the temple built by Ramesses II. There is one caravan a day thanks to terrorism, you miss it, you miss your chance at seeing Abu Simbel. In 1997, 4 tourists aka terrorists entered a famous Egyptain temple and murdered 60 tourists....now Egypt is covered in check points. Understandably, there are cautious about letting people in. Only one road leads to Abu Simbel, a road that runs straight through the desert. Because of its location, it is hard to bring food and water to gaurds frequently, making check points impossible along this road. In keeping with safety, daily caravans of buses, taxis, and tours run, flanked with police escorts to the temple.
I didn't know Abu Simbel by name, but I did recognize it upon first glance of the four huge statues that line the entrance to the temple built in the image of the Pharaoh. Cameras and tour guides are not allowed in any temple or tomb so our Egyptologist stopped to give us a lesson outside. Abu Simbel is two temples, one large one for the Pharaoh and a smaller for his favorite wife, Queen Nefertari, originally carved in the side of a mountain. Over time sand hid the beautiful temples making discovery of the structures wait until the 19th century. By the 1950s, the rising waters of Nile threatened the temples, after a international donation campaign, archetects and archealogists from around the world came together with a plan. A plan to cut apart the momument and statues, inside and out, piece by piece and place it back together in a man-made mountain further away from the water. Today, cut marks are invisible making the move almost as amazing at the temples themselves. The great temple is an ode to the ego of the Pharaoh both inside and out, throughout which Ramesses depicts himself as a god among gods, warrior with godlike strength, and as a savior of godlike proportions to his people. In the deep back of the temple stand 4 more statues, 3 of gods and 1 of Ramsesses himself. Two days a year (possible birthday and coronation of the Pharaoh) the sun shines into the back sanctuary shedding light on 3 out of the 4 gods (the 4th is left in darkness because he is a god of the underworld). The move and re-structuring of the temple made it difficult to re-create the sanctuary lighting. Yet, today the light still shins two days a year, only one day off from the original.
The smaller temple, Temple of Hathor, is dedicated to the Pharaohs favorite wife(he had a whole haraam and fathered an estimated 100 kids), Queen Nefertari. The smaller temple sits about 100 meters to the left of the great temple. It is flanked with 3 statues of the Queen, 3 statues of the Pharaoh, and 12 children at their feet.
The walls of each are covered with stories of battles, gods, and the reign of the leader. I am constantly amazing at how intricate heiroglyphics are.
Upon returning to Aswan, we board our floating hotels....felucca boats! There is no cabin, no bathroom, I repeat NO BATHROOM, just a flat cushioned area where we will spend the next two days sleeping and eating. The crew hopped up and down the boat, raising sales, swaying rutters, and flying what else but a Bob Marley flag. For hours we floating down the Nile, for once the breeze is comforting and cool. People barely speak, taking advantage of the quiet time to read, write, tan, and sleep. It is the most peaceful hours I have had in a long time, I can almost imagine living my whole life on a felucca boat.
The wind started to become too strong, for fear of flipping the felucca, we docked along the sand, making the perfect time to swim (i know its a little questionable but its hot as balls...) and start drinking all the beer we had delivered by boat. The heat or the need to pee pushed everyone in the water. We are split among 3 boats and its funny how quickly you will become open with strangers when there is no space, no toilets, and no showers...just the Nile and booze.
We spent the night drinking every last drop of booze, dancing on the decks, swimming, and attempting Dirty Dancing lift moves in the Nile. Nothing could have possibly ruined the night...
I didn't know Abu Simbel by name, but I did recognize it upon first glance of the four huge statues that line the entrance to the temple built in the image of the Pharaoh. Cameras and tour guides are not allowed in any temple or tomb so our Egyptologist stopped to give us a lesson outside. Abu Simbel is two temples, one large one for the Pharaoh and a smaller for his favorite wife, Queen Nefertari, originally carved in the side of a mountain. Over time sand hid the beautiful temples making discovery of the structures wait until the 19th century. By the 1950s, the rising waters of Nile threatened the temples, after a international donation campaign, archetects and archealogists from around the world came together with a plan. A plan to cut apart the momument and statues, inside and out, piece by piece and place it back together in a man-made mountain further away from the water. Today, cut marks are invisible making the move almost as amazing at the temples themselves. The great temple is an ode to the ego of the Pharaoh both inside and out, throughout which Ramesses depicts himself as a god among gods, warrior with godlike strength, and as a savior of godlike proportions to his people. In the deep back of the temple stand 4 more statues, 3 of gods and 1 of Ramsesses himself. Two days a year (possible birthday and coronation of the Pharaoh) the sun shines into the back sanctuary shedding light on 3 out of the 4 gods (the 4th is left in darkness because he is a god of the underworld). The move and re-structuring of the temple made it difficult to re-create the sanctuary lighting. Yet, today the light still shins two days a year, only one day off from the original.
The smaller temple, Temple of Hathor, is dedicated to the Pharaohs favorite wife(he had a whole haraam and fathered an estimated 100 kids), Queen Nefertari. The smaller temple sits about 100 meters to the left of the great temple. It is flanked with 3 statues of the Queen, 3 statues of the Pharaoh, and 12 children at their feet.
The walls of each are covered with stories of battles, gods, and the reign of the leader. I am constantly amazing at how intricate heiroglyphics are.
Upon returning to Aswan, we board our floating hotels....felucca boats! There is no cabin, no bathroom, I repeat NO BATHROOM, just a flat cushioned area where we will spend the next two days sleeping and eating. The crew hopped up and down the boat, raising sales, swaying rutters, and flying what else but a Bob Marley flag. For hours we floating down the Nile, for once the breeze is comforting and cool. People barely speak, taking advantage of the quiet time to read, write, tan, and sleep. It is the most peaceful hours I have had in a long time, I can almost imagine living my whole life on a felucca boat.
The wind started to become too strong, for fear of flipping the felucca, we docked along the sand, making the perfect time to swim (i know its a little questionable but its hot as balls...) and start drinking all the beer we had delivered by boat. The heat or the need to pee pushed everyone in the water. We are split among 3 boats and its funny how quickly you will become open with strangers when there is no space, no toilets, and no showers...just the Nile and booze.
We spent the night drinking every last drop of booze, dancing on the decks, swimming, and attempting Dirty Dancing lift moves in the Nile. Nothing could have possibly ruined the night...
Monday, August 9, 2010
Day 4: Aswan
12 uncomfortable hours later we finally arrived in Aswan tired and stiff from a long night of infrequent stretching stops. Showers and food were in order. Aswan is much cleaner and open that Cairo. Starving we searched for a restaurant, it was 3 stops before we settled on a place based on viewing the food on customers plates. The owner greeted us and suggested dishes, within 10 minutes our table was filled with the freshiest veggies, tahini, bread, rice, and meat I've ever had. We ate long after our hunger warrented basking in the first decent meal since arriving.
Later that evening, after a nap, we boarded a felucca boat, the traditional transport of the Nile, sailed around Elephantine and Kitchener Islands before docking in a Nubian Village. Immediately upon docking, we saw our next mode of transport....CAMELS, large, dirty, smelly, camels!! For someone with short legs, its pretty difficult to hop up on, but I managed to get my little stumps onto my sweet ride!
It's not a graceful animal, the camel, it's a pretty bumpy ride. A young boy maned my camel and made sure I didn't die even though he failed to mention to lean back when the camel stands up, somehow I managed not to fall to my death. Once I was up, my camel received a swift whip on the ass, making it lunge into a pace I hated. Yelling at my camel boy to not whip my ride, he laughed and walked off leaving me and my camel alone. He followed closely behind another camel but failed to break fast enough not to poke the girl in front of me with its nose. My camel loved to walk on the edge of the sand, I did not, my camel didn't mind the possibility of tumbeling down the sand to sudden death (ok not death but some broken bones definately), I did! I tried to yell for my little camel minion to return but he took his time and when he did he found it funny to make the thing run. It's not so funny when you are on the big sucker. By the time our 30 minute ride ended in the middle of the village, I was ready to travel on my own two legs. Again, I had no warning when it kneeled forward and finally sat back. How none of us went over the heads of these animals I will never know but I do know I have had softer landings before.
Camels parked, we headed into the Nubian School for a quick lesson. The Nubians are the original Egyptians, as the minority, they continue to have their own seperate villages and spoken language. The buildings are colorfully decorated with hand paintings and designs. It is a beautiful break from the tan lanscape of the cities.
In the school our Nubian teacher made his best effort to teach us the numbers and alphabet in both Nubian and Arabic, we did not pick it up quickly. But with enough repitition, we were able to mumble our way through it. With lessons learned we headed to the house for a traditional dinner (stuffing our faces earlier, we decided not to pay extra for this meal), the group chowed down and we played with their pet crockadiles. They are surprisingly soft!!! With our village trip over, we climbed back on our felucca, this time opting for the laying under the stars on the roof. The hustle and bustle faded into silence and a few of us talked about the beautiful places we've seen, while attempting to pick out the Dippers.
Later that evening, after a nap, we boarded a felucca boat, the traditional transport of the Nile, sailed around Elephantine and Kitchener Islands before docking in a Nubian Village. Immediately upon docking, we saw our next mode of transport....CAMELS, large, dirty, smelly, camels!! For someone with short legs, its pretty difficult to hop up on, but I managed to get my little stumps onto my sweet ride!
It's not a graceful animal, the camel, it's a pretty bumpy ride. A young boy maned my camel and made sure I didn't die even though he failed to mention to lean back when the camel stands up, somehow I managed not to fall to my death. Once I was up, my camel received a swift whip on the ass, making it lunge into a pace I hated. Yelling at my camel boy to not whip my ride, he laughed and walked off leaving me and my camel alone. He followed closely behind another camel but failed to break fast enough not to poke the girl in front of me with its nose. My camel loved to walk on the edge of the sand, I did not, my camel didn't mind the possibility of tumbeling down the sand to sudden death (ok not death but some broken bones definately), I did! I tried to yell for my little camel minion to return but he took his time and when he did he found it funny to make the thing run. It's not so funny when you are on the big sucker. By the time our 30 minute ride ended in the middle of the village, I was ready to travel on my own two legs. Again, I had no warning when it kneeled forward and finally sat back. How none of us went over the heads of these animals I will never know but I do know I have had softer landings before.
Camels parked, we headed into the Nubian School for a quick lesson. The Nubians are the original Egyptians, as the minority, they continue to have their own seperate villages and spoken language. The buildings are colorfully decorated with hand paintings and designs. It is a beautiful break from the tan lanscape of the cities.
In the school our Nubian teacher made his best effort to teach us the numbers and alphabet in both Nubian and Arabic, we did not pick it up quickly. But with enough repitition, we were able to mumble our way through it. With lessons learned we headed to the house for a traditional dinner (stuffing our faces earlier, we decided not to pay extra for this meal), the group chowed down and we played with their pet crockadiles. They are surprisingly soft!!! With our village trip over, we climbed back on our felucca, this time opting for the laying under the stars on the roof. The hustle and bustle faded into silence and a few of us talked about the beautiful places we've seen, while attempting to pick out the Dippers.
Sunday, August 8, 2010
Day 3: Museums, Pyramids, and Assnumbing Bus Rides
To beat the heat, our days start early...5am, 3am, 6am....early. Our first day of the tour started at the Egytian Museum in downtown Cairo. An english speaking Egyptologist guided us through the masses of 100,000 artefacts housed at the Museum. Everything of importance is held in the small 2 story museum, anything that is that wasn't taken by the British Museum (most important things like the Rosetta Stone were). Like everything else in Cairo, it was beyond hot and sticky, the crowds didn't help the heat as we struggled to follow our fast paced guide. He stopped at about 10 different statues and heiroglyphic paintings to explain their meaning. Fighting the crowds aroudn the same relics, I missed parts of each story but understood the general idea. There is a whole floor dedicated to the boy king, King Tut, made famous not by the stories told by his people but by his American discoverer. Dying at 18 from Malaria (so they think from an autopsy), he had one of the shortest reigns in history. His fame comes from his tomb being found completely intact, jewels and offerings included. Archeologists search for 5 years before hitting his tomb, safeguarded because another king build his partially on top, covering his entranceway. All other tombs in the Valley of the Kings were looting, leaving virtually nothing to be discovered. The construction for tombs are started at a Kings's reign and continued throughout their lives, King Tuts was small and incomplete because of his unexpected death. The masses of artefacts found are said to only be a portion of what was held in other tombs of more famous leaders. His burial tombs, jewlery, and burial beds are housed here, while other items travel the world in an exhibition. After our tour we were given an hour of free time to continue exploring or pay to enter the mummy room. In true Egytian style, prices for exhibition changed as fast as the heat index, prices are raised on a daily whim, so we I opted for exploring instead. Next to the mummy room, there is a room for animal mummies, its amazing and creepy how intact the bodies are. Scales on a fish, fur on a dog, fingernails on a baboon, the muscles on a stalion....all still there! Aminals were burried in tombs with their royal owners or sacrificed to the gods, but the care in their burrials are intricate and important. After viewing the poor puppy bodies, we were off to wonder. There is no question that there is so much to see but as a tourist its difficult. Statues, relics, and artefacts stand crowded and dusty in rooms with no signage. Not even a hint of what stories hide behind the piece. There seems to be no worry about damage as visitors can touch and walk among pieces.
We boarded the bus for our next stop, one of the 7 original wonders, the pyramids of Giza. Trash lined streets lead the way to Giza, right outside of Cairo. The pyramids can be seen in the smoggy city skyline. The dirt and crowds of Cairo edge right up to the pyramids. I can't lie and say I wasn't a little disappointed that you don't have to travel hours into the desert to see the pyramids! But that said, they are still jaw-dropping and massive. For over 3,000 they were the tallest man-made structures in the world. We stopped first at the panoramic viewing post to take the all important balancing the pyramid pictures. You can't go to Egypt without looking like an ass trying to perfect the photos. WIth photos as perfect as possible, we went to the foot of the 2 ton a block masterpiece. You can walk right up and touch it! Three structures stand in a line, the Great one lost 8 meters to nature, leaving the second one to seem larger. Used as the original tombs, it was a law that a sons pyramid could not be greater or larger than his fathers, yet today the sons is technically the larger of the 3. The 3rd is visably much smaller than the others because the grandson ran out of money.
Incase standing next to greatest wasn't enough for a small (Egyptians always with the fees!) you can enter it! It's not a comfortable trek but its worth it! We stood at the base of the second one, we entered the small doorway, bent at the waist, and started our descent. For more meters than I was comfortable with we tip toed down a steep plywood path with only wooden bars nailed on top to keep us from sliding right to the bottom. It's a wall of stale hot air, the further down we inched, the harder it was to breath normally. It took a few steps before we were covered in sweat, not dripping sweat, but soaked through out clothes sweaty! i was glad to reach the bottom, mostly because it was a large high-ceilinged opening. Heiroglyphics on the walls must have told the story of the leader who was found in the sarcafocus. Being unbarably hot, I climbed back the way I came, bent at the waist, to reach the outside. You know it's hot when the air outside in the desert brings relief!!!!
After ample time at the pyramids, we boarded the bus for the Sphinx which sits further down in front of the pyramids. Showing our tickets, we entered the fenced in area, greeted by a 3 to 1 ratio of tourists to haggelers. This time it was the kids. They were cute at first, telling us where to stand for the all important kissing the Sphinx photos. That's where the cuteness ended and the annoying brattiness began! They ask for money in a multitude of languages, our refusals set one little brat off, she kicked and punched at the guys while yelling "go home"...she couldn't have been more than 10. The brats made it virtually unbareable, there is very little space to begin with, even less with dozen of kids running rampid for cash.
Unlike other cities, there is no attempt at curbing hasseling at tourist sites, with not so much as a legit suvenior shop, beggers with trinkets are everywhere. It is almost ashame, I understand this is some people's only hope of income but it begins to tarnish the beauty of what they have. The hassel had us running for the bus within 20 minutes.
We headed back to the hotel for some much needed freshening up before starting a 12 hour bus ride to Aswan. My buddies and I carefully considered our clothing choices for this trip, knowing full well that 90% of our clothes would bring very unwanted attention. But with a 12 hour trip ahead, we (and every other girl on the trip) settled for comfy clothes, including the ever dreaded shorts and tanks.....our tour guide stopped at Cairo's Mall so we could load up on snacks and water. I don't know whether he's an ass or just plain stupid but he had us walking into the lions den. The eve of Ramadon brought every muslim in the city out. 35 tourist walk into a mall, dressed inappropriately, unknowingly disrepecting the preparations for one of their holiest of holidays. Pushing through the crowds in the grocery store was my nightmare. Stares, hassels, comments, and even a little cart crashing was all it took for us to feel incrediably uncomfortable. I have been lucky enough to fall somewhere in between the majority 99% of my life....I could not have been more than a minority if I tried! It makes me truly feel bad for anyone that might feel that on a regular basis, it was nerve wracking and intimidating!
We left the store wtihout getting so much as a water and waited outside in the comfort of our group of slutty misfits......
Boarding the bus for our 12 hour ride, we noticed a new member of our crew....our armed bodyguard, yup its like that, I don't know if I should be scared or comforted by the man with the gun.
We boarded the bus for our next stop, one of the 7 original wonders, the pyramids of Giza. Trash lined streets lead the way to Giza, right outside of Cairo. The pyramids can be seen in the smoggy city skyline. The dirt and crowds of Cairo edge right up to the pyramids. I can't lie and say I wasn't a little disappointed that you don't have to travel hours into the desert to see the pyramids! But that said, they are still jaw-dropping and massive. For over 3,000 they were the tallest man-made structures in the world. We stopped first at the panoramic viewing post to take the all important balancing the pyramid pictures. You can't go to Egypt without looking like an ass trying to perfect the photos. WIth photos as perfect as possible, we went to the foot of the 2 ton a block masterpiece. You can walk right up and touch it! Three structures stand in a line, the Great one lost 8 meters to nature, leaving the second one to seem larger. Used as the original tombs, it was a law that a sons pyramid could not be greater or larger than his fathers, yet today the sons is technically the larger of the 3. The 3rd is visably much smaller than the others because the grandson ran out of money.
Incase standing next to greatest wasn't enough for a small (Egyptians always with the fees!) you can enter it! It's not a comfortable trek but its worth it! We stood at the base of the second one, we entered the small doorway, bent at the waist, and started our descent. For more meters than I was comfortable with we tip toed down a steep plywood path with only wooden bars nailed on top to keep us from sliding right to the bottom. It's a wall of stale hot air, the further down we inched, the harder it was to breath normally. It took a few steps before we were covered in sweat, not dripping sweat, but soaked through out clothes sweaty! i was glad to reach the bottom, mostly because it was a large high-ceilinged opening. Heiroglyphics on the walls must have told the story of the leader who was found in the sarcafocus. Being unbarably hot, I climbed back the way I came, bent at the waist, to reach the outside. You know it's hot when the air outside in the desert brings relief!!!!
After ample time at the pyramids, we boarded the bus for the Sphinx which sits further down in front of the pyramids. Showing our tickets, we entered the fenced in area, greeted by a 3 to 1 ratio of tourists to haggelers. This time it was the kids. They were cute at first, telling us where to stand for the all important kissing the Sphinx photos. That's where the cuteness ended and the annoying brattiness began! They ask for money in a multitude of languages, our refusals set one little brat off, she kicked and punched at the guys while yelling "go home"...she couldn't have been more than 10. The brats made it virtually unbareable, there is very little space to begin with, even less with dozen of kids running rampid for cash.
Unlike other cities, there is no attempt at curbing hasseling at tourist sites, with not so much as a legit suvenior shop, beggers with trinkets are everywhere. It is almost ashame, I understand this is some people's only hope of income but it begins to tarnish the beauty of what they have. The hassel had us running for the bus within 20 minutes.
We headed back to the hotel for some much needed freshening up before starting a 12 hour bus ride to Aswan. My buddies and I carefully considered our clothing choices for this trip, knowing full well that 90% of our clothes would bring very unwanted attention. But with a 12 hour trip ahead, we (and every other girl on the trip) settled for comfy clothes, including the ever dreaded shorts and tanks.....our tour guide stopped at Cairo's Mall so we could load up on snacks and water. I don't know whether he's an ass or just plain stupid but he had us walking into the lions den. The eve of Ramadon brought every muslim in the city out. 35 tourist walk into a mall, dressed inappropriately, unknowingly disrepecting the preparations for one of their holiest of holidays. Pushing through the crowds in the grocery store was my nightmare. Stares, hassels, comments, and even a little cart crashing was all it took for us to feel incrediably uncomfortable. I have been lucky enough to fall somewhere in between the majority 99% of my life....I could not have been more than a minority if I tried! It makes me truly feel bad for anyone that might feel that on a regular basis, it was nerve wracking and intimidating!
We left the store wtihout getting so much as a water and waited outside in the comfort of our group of slutty misfits......
Boarding the bus for our 12 hour ride, we noticed a new member of our crew....our armed bodyguard, yup its like that, I don't know if I should be scared or comforted by the man with the gun.
Saturday, August 7, 2010
Day 2: Crash Course in Haggeling
Unable to fully fall asleep after the prayers were silenced we started preparing for our first day out at 6:30am. With only the afternoon before our 9 day tour, we decided to take advantage of the markets. We hopped in a cab to Al Khalili Bazaar, unfortunately it was 3 hours before it opened. The cab dropped us off at the side of the road. It only took a few minutes before crowds of men stared, making us feel very much uncomfortable! Rebecca chose that moment to lose her cool, she paniced and wanted to hail a cab back to the comfort of our hostel. We convinced her to stay, this was afterall only day #1. In our attempt to walk toward the few other obvious tourists, we were invited in a Mosque. An old man signaled for us to remove our shoes and follow him into a side room. It was there that he handed us hooded robes. We covered ourselves and followed him as he explained the history of the school, age of the towers, and the closed off rooms. It was beautiful, the marble felt cool under our bare feet. We struggled to understand his explainations but certain things were clear like the seperation of men and women, even in the mosque, women are kept in a covered section to worship. We spent 30 minutes wondering through rooms, photographing the beautiful arabic script and carvings before giving a donation (expected) and leaving. We crossed the street to find a coffee shop to waste the remaining time before the bazaar opened. Even partially closed, keepers urged the Obama supports to buy trinkets. And buy we did, haggeling is fun. Hand made shoes start at 180 LE, we bid 30 LE. Keeper asks us to give him good price, afterall these are handmade by his grandfather he claims. We repeat our offer. He says, ok I make you a good offer, 160LE. No, sorry how about 45 LE. Keeper says its a good price for us but not a good price for his family, 120 LE, final offer. We walk away, it takes a mere seconds before the keeper yells after us, constantly lowering the price until we settle on 80LE about 8 GBP. We walk away with piles of trinkets for a few quid, its all in a days haggeling. It would be great to go back to London, enter TopShop and tell the sales woman you will give her 5 pounds for a 50 pound shirt. It prabably only cost, 5 to make but unfortunately TopShop or any other for that matter aren't interesting in "making a good price" for you. We spent the next couple of hours weaving through the crowded stalls of trashy trinkets, spices, silver and gold boutiques, and cloth stands before heading back to our hotel for some grub.
We had to leave our hostel to check into our tour hotel so we took a registered cab right there. A couple of block before the hotel, we noticed the meter was off. Parked in front of our hotel, our driver demanded 100 LE....we laughed and said no. He didn't laugh and started yelling in Arabic. After 3 more demands of 100, we stopped being polite and decided it was time to yell right back. Knowing we could get to the airport twice for 100 and that our hotel ride should only cost 11, we refused. It didn't take long before he called over a police officer. We tried to explain that the man was screwing us to no avail, the cop demanded the same fair. I less than politely explained that despite being American, I was not an idiot. With that the cop, offered a new fair, 50 LE. Once again we refused. The hotel manager was called out, he offered a price of 30, again we refused. With that all patience was out the window. We told all 3 partners in corruption it was 15 or nothing. After much debate in Arabic, the driver took the money and we got out, disturbed at the incident.
I have learned very quickly that customer service is an American invention between the British and now the Egyptian cabbies, it is more than surprising if we get good service than if we don't. We ordered simple dishes at the hotel restaurant, annoyed with the idea of wondering off to find a restaurant. 30 minutes later we got drink, 1 1/2 hrs later we got 2 dishes, 1 3/4 later I walked out frustrated that mine had been forgotten even after ordering with 2 different people.
Along the way, I did exactly what I was taught not to do...sorry mom but I talked to stranger. It might have been Tommy's admittance of some Egytian cons but it was mostly the promise of escorting me to a supermarket that made me follow him. During our trek he told me all about his business, he was in tourism, worked with STA and other tour groups and had a team of drivers that would take you around cheap. We had plans to hire a driver later in the week to see some sights outside of Cairo so I ended up in his shop. Yes, I know not smart but I read a ton of testimonials and who isn't a sucker for testimonials? Most people I know. I ran back to the hotel, gathered the girls to take advantage of the rest of the day. Our driver aka Mr. Tickles took us to a Papyrus shop, Essence boutique, Silver store, and the Valley of the Living Dead.
First stop: Papyrus Shop, they sell it all over Cairo but 95% of it isn't legit and won't be allowed through customs in most countries. This was our first experience with what they call Egyptian hospitality, which is the offering of tea, coffee, Hibiscus tea, or soda, it is considered rude to refuse, even if politely. So we watched as our guide showed us the ways of Papyrus. It's hard not to be impressed, especially with the patience of the process. I would have made a terrible Egyptian, I could never have waited 4-6 days for a sheet of paper to be ready under heavy weight. THe process is long but amazing. the plant's natural glue holds it together almost instantly without weaving it. It's durable and re-useable. You can write on it (as we saw) with ink or pencial and it washes away easily. After each demonstration comes the ask, the bid for you to pull out your cards and start purchasing every, with special discounts of course. I opted out even though I didn't want to.
2nd Stop: Essence. Again Egyptian Hospitality, Hibiscus Tea this time around. We sat as two men spoke of the beauty of natural scents found in their country, Jasmine, Lotus Flower, Orange Blossom, Mint, Lavander, and Gardinia to name a few. Its a slight nightmare for allergy sufferers...too many scents too few wrists! Nontheless, they carried on with the blended scents that they proudly boast are the originals of every big name perfume including Cool Water, Chanel 5, Jean Paul Gautier, Gucci...yada yada...more smells! Don't get me wrong they smelled wonderful but after a combination of Secret of the Desert, Nefertity, Five Secrets, Queen Hatshipsut, I was over it. We then moved on to aromatherapy, muscle treatments, and cold/allergy remedies. Then the ask: after the first refusal, deals were made, special offers, and free gifts, unfortunately for our demonstrators we still didn't bite.
3rd Stop: Silver Shop...more Egyptain Hospitality...even in the heat, it was too much liquids! But you can't refuse so more drinks it was. To our relief there was no demonstration, just shopping. Which I did, this was the stop I wanted. As my family knows, I have a slight obsession with finding this with my name on it. It's pretty rare and exciting to find anything with Gwendolyn on it...so I jumped at the chance to have my name on a silver pendant. The names of Kings and Queens of ancient Egypt are written in Hieroglyhpics and placed inside a cartouche, a shape said to protect royalty. Commoners were not permitted to write their names in this shape, that is unless you enter a silver shop in modern day Cairo. So I was a sucker for my common name to be protected like the likes of King Tut and Queen Nefertity.
4th Stop: Land of the Living Dead. Cairo is a city of 22 million people, most of which are living in poverty that is hard to imagine. The gap between poor and rich in undeniable when driving through the city. Mr. Tickles drove us to the other end, as we reached old aquaducts he told us of the living dead. At sunset, 4 million people take rest and sleep on top of mass graves. To poor for even simple shelter, millions of families, children, and elderly are forced to sleep in the dirt. We drove further in, the despair was impossible to ignore. To our surprise we stopping in front of a door. We were invited into a families home, it was not a home by any of our standards, it had a door, one room with 2 beds, and a stove half outside boiling water. A mother, father, 15 Daughters, 2 sons, and a 2 year old boy live there. We walked past the stove to a walled dirt plot with a concrete building. Chickens rushed into piles of wood and rubbish as we walked through. The children sleep in the dirt on top of an old burial crowd next to the building holding hundreds of bodies burried hundreds of years ago. it was hard to hold back tears and impossible not to reach in our wallets. Unlike other countries, the government gives no aid, they rely soley on the kindness of people to survive. THe mother hugged and kissed us as we gave 250 LE a mere 25 pounds. The little boy reached out for us and our cameras, holding on to Rebecca. Despite being unable to communicate, the gratitude was understood clearly. We drove away, tears in my eye and headed back to our air conditioned hotel.
We ended the night with a quick group meeting. It's a good group made up of Americans, British, Australians, and New Zealanders.
We had to leave our hostel to check into our tour hotel so we took a registered cab right there. A couple of block before the hotel, we noticed the meter was off. Parked in front of our hotel, our driver demanded 100 LE....we laughed and said no. He didn't laugh and started yelling in Arabic. After 3 more demands of 100, we stopped being polite and decided it was time to yell right back. Knowing we could get to the airport twice for 100 and that our hotel ride should only cost 11, we refused. It didn't take long before he called over a police officer. We tried to explain that the man was screwing us to no avail, the cop demanded the same fair. I less than politely explained that despite being American, I was not an idiot. With that the cop, offered a new fair, 50 LE. Once again we refused. The hotel manager was called out, he offered a price of 30, again we refused. With that all patience was out the window. We told all 3 partners in corruption it was 15 or nothing. After much debate in Arabic, the driver took the money and we got out, disturbed at the incident.
I have learned very quickly that customer service is an American invention between the British and now the Egyptian cabbies, it is more than surprising if we get good service than if we don't. We ordered simple dishes at the hotel restaurant, annoyed with the idea of wondering off to find a restaurant. 30 minutes later we got drink, 1 1/2 hrs later we got 2 dishes, 1 3/4 later I walked out frustrated that mine had been forgotten even after ordering with 2 different people.
Along the way, I did exactly what I was taught not to do...sorry mom but I talked to stranger. It might have been Tommy's admittance of some Egytian cons but it was mostly the promise of escorting me to a supermarket that made me follow him. During our trek he told me all about his business, he was in tourism, worked with STA and other tour groups and had a team of drivers that would take you around cheap. We had plans to hire a driver later in the week to see some sights outside of Cairo so I ended up in his shop. Yes, I know not smart but I read a ton of testimonials and who isn't a sucker for testimonials? Most people I know. I ran back to the hotel, gathered the girls to take advantage of the rest of the day. Our driver aka Mr. Tickles took us to a Papyrus shop, Essence boutique, Silver store, and the Valley of the Living Dead.
First stop: Papyrus Shop, they sell it all over Cairo but 95% of it isn't legit and won't be allowed through customs in most countries. This was our first experience with what they call Egyptian hospitality, which is the offering of tea, coffee, Hibiscus tea, or soda, it is considered rude to refuse, even if politely. So we watched as our guide showed us the ways of Papyrus. It's hard not to be impressed, especially with the patience of the process. I would have made a terrible Egyptian, I could never have waited 4-6 days for a sheet of paper to be ready under heavy weight. THe process is long but amazing. the plant's natural glue holds it together almost instantly without weaving it. It's durable and re-useable. You can write on it (as we saw) with ink or pencial and it washes away easily. After each demonstration comes the ask, the bid for you to pull out your cards and start purchasing every, with special discounts of course. I opted out even though I didn't want to.
2nd Stop: Essence. Again Egyptian Hospitality, Hibiscus Tea this time around. We sat as two men spoke of the beauty of natural scents found in their country, Jasmine, Lotus Flower, Orange Blossom, Mint, Lavander, and Gardinia to name a few. Its a slight nightmare for allergy sufferers...too many scents too few wrists! Nontheless, they carried on with the blended scents that they proudly boast are the originals of every big name perfume including Cool Water, Chanel 5, Jean Paul Gautier, Gucci...yada yada...more smells! Don't get me wrong they smelled wonderful but after a combination of Secret of the Desert, Nefertity, Five Secrets, Queen Hatshipsut, I was over it. We then moved on to aromatherapy, muscle treatments, and cold/allergy remedies. Then the ask: after the first refusal, deals were made, special offers, and free gifts, unfortunately for our demonstrators we still didn't bite.
3rd Stop: Silver Shop...more Egyptain Hospitality...even in the heat, it was too much liquids! But you can't refuse so more drinks it was. To our relief there was no demonstration, just shopping. Which I did, this was the stop I wanted. As my family knows, I have a slight obsession with finding this with my name on it. It's pretty rare and exciting to find anything with Gwendolyn on it...so I jumped at the chance to have my name on a silver pendant. The names of Kings and Queens of ancient Egypt are written in Hieroglyhpics and placed inside a cartouche, a shape said to protect royalty. Commoners were not permitted to write their names in this shape, that is unless you enter a silver shop in modern day Cairo. So I was a sucker for my common name to be protected like the likes of King Tut and Queen Nefertity.
4th Stop: Land of the Living Dead. Cairo is a city of 22 million people, most of which are living in poverty that is hard to imagine. The gap between poor and rich in undeniable when driving through the city. Mr. Tickles drove us to the other end, as we reached old aquaducts he told us of the living dead. At sunset, 4 million people take rest and sleep on top of mass graves. To poor for even simple shelter, millions of families, children, and elderly are forced to sleep in the dirt. We drove further in, the despair was impossible to ignore. To our surprise we stopping in front of a door. We were invited into a families home, it was not a home by any of our standards, it had a door, one room with 2 beds, and a stove half outside boiling water. A mother, father, 15 Daughters, 2 sons, and a 2 year old boy live there. We walked past the stove to a walled dirt plot with a concrete building. Chickens rushed into piles of wood and rubbish as we walked through. The children sleep in the dirt on top of an old burial crowd next to the building holding hundreds of bodies burried hundreds of years ago. it was hard to hold back tears and impossible not to reach in our wallets. Unlike other countries, the government gives no aid, they rely soley on the kindness of people to survive. THe mother hugged and kissed us as we gave 250 LE a mere 25 pounds. The little boy reached out for us and our cameras, holding on to Rebecca. Despite being unable to communicate, the gratitude was understood clearly. We drove away, tears in my eye and headed back to our air conditioned hotel.
We ended the night with a quick group meeting. It's a good group made up of Americans, British, Australians, and New Zealanders.
Friday, August 6, 2010
Day 1: Goodbye London, Hello Egypt:
34 hours on a plane has the ability to be modern day time travel, at least when you start in a place like London and travel back to a more primative Egyptian culture. We landed at 1am, greeted by a scare of lost luggage and a burly Egyptain driver. The doors of Cairo International slid open to a brick wall of dusty heat. We weaved in and out of traffic, trying to keep pace with our driver. Our driver seemed unphased by the daunting task of navigating through Cairo without the use of lanes, ample traffic lights: headlights and signals are mere unnecessary accessories unlike neon tubing lining the windows which makes Xhibits Pimp My Ride look like a weak attempt. Mosques dominate the skyline with large intricate towers topping the massive domes. Even under the darkness of night, city buildings and living complexes look shaby. Our 30 minutes ride gave us glimpses of what was to come: Birqua boutiques, market stalls, Twinkie stands (yes thats right twinkies), and trash lined roads. We arrived at the Dahab rooftop hostel, stepping out of the cab it was clear that we were a far way from home. Men stopped talking only to stair at the women climbing the stairs. An old crank elevator took us to the 6th floor. we were greeted by 4 men, shown our crowded room, & shared bathroom. Wooden thatch covered sections of the walkway leading to the cozy tables and chairs. 30 odd cats (seemingly starving) purred and slept on wooden benches and doorways. With only a weak ceiling fan and shuttered windows, we debated joining the others in sleeping with the doors open but as untrusting travelers we settled for sleeping half naked and sweating the night out.
We followed tips and prepared by bringing necessities such as Toilet paper but we were not prepared for the fact that you can't flush it in Egypt. Used feminine products and toilet paper once again reminded us that we were in the 3rd world. Exhausted we tried to fall asleep to the sounds of Cairo. Sticky, we woke up at 4am to the chants and singing hymns of Islamic worship.
We followed tips and prepared by bringing necessities such as Toilet paper but we were not prepared for the fact that you can't flush it in Egypt. Used feminine products and toilet paper once again reminded us that we were in the 3rd world. Exhausted we tried to fall asleep to the sounds of Cairo. Sticky, we woke up at 4am to the chants and singing hymns of Islamic worship.
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Who wants a Camel Ride?
3I DO!!!!
I'm 24 hours away from my dream holiday...a 10 day excursion to Egypt! I am as prepared as I can be, well I could have gotten those suggestions vaccinations but I'm as ready as a slacker like me, can be!
The closer we get to boarding, the more my friends and I realize we are in for an experience of a lifetime! One of absolute culture shock!
Our recommended packing list included things beyond the normal camera, bathing suit, and shampoo! Bug Spray (Level 40), Toilet Paper: (Apparently its a commidity especially in the desert, we were told to leave our modesty in London), Sleeping Bags: (For our nights sailing on a felucca). Travel Insurance, Vaccines for diseases that have been long erradicated in the US and UK, and a flashlight to explore the tombs
And then there were the recommendations for women: Being a muslim country, Egypt is said to be a tricky place for Western women. Here were the tips:
Where coservative clothing...tank tops and shorts are against culture and will force unwanted attention from men. Don't look men directly in the eye, it can be seen as flirting, No snogging, men and women do not show affection in public, If harrassed, do not comment or make remarks, it will only make it worse (clearly the hardest top for me to follow!) Where a fake wedding band, men are less likely to harass married women.
So that said, I am ready... to wear clothes that I had to specially purchase for this trip...to ignore men...to shop the silver and gold markets...to ride camels off into the desert sunset...haggle for suveniers...pose like an egyptian in front of the pyramids...and explore!
And for once we are on the right end of exchange rates...1 Pound= 8.5 Egyptian Pounds...8 LE will allow us to eat like queens for the day...an experience that will be wonderful all on its own! Eating however will be tricky, as we cannot drink the water or anything potentially washed in the water including salads and veg dishes!
Even despite of warnings and of-putting tips for travel, I cannot wait to get on the plane! It will be a great 10 day break from London and from my crowded flat!
I'm 24 hours away from my dream holiday...a 10 day excursion to Egypt! I am as prepared as I can be, well I could have gotten those suggestions vaccinations but I'm as ready as a slacker like me, can be!
The closer we get to boarding, the more my friends and I realize we are in for an experience of a lifetime! One of absolute culture shock!
Our recommended packing list included things beyond the normal camera, bathing suit, and shampoo! Bug Spray (Level 40), Toilet Paper: (Apparently its a commidity especially in the desert, we were told to leave our modesty in London), Sleeping Bags: (For our nights sailing on a felucca). Travel Insurance, Vaccines for diseases that have been long erradicated in the US and UK, and a flashlight to explore the tombs
And then there were the recommendations for women: Being a muslim country, Egypt is said to be a tricky place for Western women. Here were the tips:
Where coservative clothing...tank tops and shorts are against culture and will force unwanted attention from men. Don't look men directly in the eye, it can be seen as flirting, No snogging, men and women do not show affection in public, If harrassed, do not comment or make remarks, it will only make it worse (clearly the hardest top for me to follow!) Where a fake wedding band, men are less likely to harass married women.
So that said, I am ready... to wear clothes that I had to specially purchase for this trip...to ignore men...to shop the silver and gold markets...to ride camels off into the desert sunset...haggle for suveniers...pose like an egyptian in front of the pyramids...and explore!
And for once we are on the right end of exchange rates...1 Pound= 8.5 Egyptian Pounds...8 LE will allow us to eat like queens for the day...an experience that will be wonderful all on its own! Eating however will be tricky, as we cannot drink the water or anything potentially washed in the water including salads and veg dishes!
Even despite of warnings and of-putting tips for travel, I cannot wait to get on the plane! It will be a great 10 day break from London and from my crowded flat!
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
The First week
I made it through the first week of employment! A huge feat considering the fact that I was 'let go' from my last job in London after only two days. But I broke the curse and made it through 3 days! I drowned in the piles of paperwork, old files, proposals, and UK policy...definately not the most interesting or exciting week but I have to start somewhere.
As the new Fundraising Officer, I have a lot of work cut out for me! I have to essentially save an organisation from financial defeat. And like my boss, it's a goal that's direct and intimidating. But I love a challenge, even if that challenge involves getting up before my normal noon wake-up!
Plus it's kinda nice to get the perks of employment again! Perk#1: being paid while on Holiday next week!!
As the new Fundraising Officer, I have a lot of work cut out for me! I have to essentially save an organisation from financial defeat. And like my boss, it's a goal that's direct and intimidating. But I love a challenge, even if that challenge involves getting up before my normal noon wake-up!
Plus it's kinda nice to get the perks of employment again! Perk#1: being paid while on Holiday next week!!
Monday, August 2, 2010
Working Gal
I've waited long enough for this day to come. The time has finally come to dust off my inner professional and join the crowded work commute. Up by 6:30, showered, hair dried, dolled up and squeezed onto a packed tube by 8...coffee #1 by 8:45 and to the Covent Garden office by 9:15.
I haven't been up that early in months but my exhaustion was no match for my excited nerves. The tartan carpets and clan flags welcomed me to my new post. Like most charities, it's casual....flip flops smack on the heels of my co-workers climbing the 4 story curved staircases leading the way to my shared office. A blank desk backed into the corner is my new bubble. I struggled to remember names, decipher thick Scottish accents, and read through mounds of old newletters, appeals, and data.
People were kind and welcoming without being nosey like my past American co-workers. My experience in fundraising doesn't mean I don't have things to learn.... there are new acronyms, governing bodies, and lingo...because it would be way to easy to make terms universal. I have to learn the UK system and fast but I thrive on a challenge so I'm thinking I got this!
Lunch with my new communication team proved that I would fit in, maybe not instantly but soon enough. They are direct to the point that I question their approval of me but it's refreshing...these are the people that would tell you if you had a bat in the cave (at least I hope).
I lost my stamina around 3 but managed to not pull a Costanza and sleep under my desk. 5:30 signaled the end of my first day...I pushed my way onto the tube snuggling right underneath an old man's pits but despite my discomfort, I was never so ready to head back to East London.
Here's to hoping Day 2 goes even better!
I haven't been up that early in months but my exhaustion was no match for my excited nerves. The tartan carpets and clan flags welcomed me to my new post. Like most charities, it's casual....flip flops smack on the heels of my co-workers climbing the 4 story curved staircases leading the way to my shared office. A blank desk backed into the corner is my new bubble. I struggled to remember names, decipher thick Scottish accents, and read through mounds of old newletters, appeals, and data.
People were kind and welcoming without being nosey like my past American co-workers. My experience in fundraising doesn't mean I don't have things to learn.... there are new acronyms, governing bodies, and lingo...because it would be way to easy to make terms universal. I have to learn the UK system and fast but I thrive on a challenge so I'm thinking I got this!
Lunch with my new communication team proved that I would fit in, maybe not instantly but soon enough. They are direct to the point that I question their approval of me but it's refreshing...these are the people that would tell you if you had a bat in the cave (at least I hope).
I lost my stamina around 3 but managed to not pull a Costanza and sleep under my desk. 5:30 signaled the end of my first day...I pushed my way onto the tube snuggling right underneath an old man's pits but despite my discomfort, I was never so ready to head back to East London.
Here's to hoping Day 2 goes even better!
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Stay or Go
There comes a point where you have to decide, weigh the pros and cons, and commit one way or another. My frustration may not be completely unwarrented but I can't keep spazing out, it isn't good for either of us. After a proper freak out, Beni could barely look at me, my words have a tendency to sting and hit where it hurts most. I questioned everything and he wasn't the only one left wondering if I would stay.
Fighting has become our third wheel. We have lost our balance. Our honeymoon period was interrupted by brothers, cousins, and the impossible feat of learning other languages. The same things that make us prime reality show candidates are very close to tearing us apart. But I guess it's up to us if we let them.
We had a sober sit down and made a decision. Our good times still outweigh the bad. We are happier together than we would be apart. So we stay, we try, and I try to stop flipping out.
We'll see how it goes...
Fighting has become our third wheel. We have lost our balance. Our honeymoon period was interrupted by brothers, cousins, and the impossible feat of learning other languages. The same things that make us prime reality show candidates are very close to tearing us apart. But I guess it's up to us if we let them.
We had a sober sit down and made a decision. Our good times still outweigh the bad. We are happier together than we would be apart. So we stay, we try, and I try to stop flipping out.
We'll see how it goes...
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Far away from smitten
Somewhere between smitten and student loans I became angry and bored. With a financial aid gun to my grill, I have lost things (my mind, my reason, and my patience). 8 years of student loaning and poor credit history are coming back with a vengence...my UK experience hangs in the balance and all I can do is berate my boyfriend.
I realize its not the best way to outsource my anger but try having an Albanian boyfriend who requires constant translation and explaination....sometimes I wonder if he's worth it. I love him but I didn't sign up to be a teacher, I didn't sign up for 29 cousins and 12 brothers, and I certainly didn't agree to be the household coffee maker/translator/wardrobe consultant! With a sick grandfather, a uncertain UK future, and a finance exam, I cannot handle Beni. I can't handle anything about him.
At this moment....I hate his accent, I hate his crowded flat, I hate the way he says Baby, and I definately hate the way he thinks I get angry "so quickly"! We have been together 6 months and I feel like we are married...it's on thin ice territory! I love him madly but if I'm bored at 6 months, what the fuck is 1 year going to be like???
I realize its not the best way to outsource my anger but try having an Albanian boyfriend who requires constant translation and explaination....sometimes I wonder if he's worth it. I love him but I didn't sign up to be a teacher, I didn't sign up for 29 cousins and 12 brothers, and I certainly didn't agree to be the household coffee maker/translator/wardrobe consultant! With a sick grandfather, a uncertain UK future, and a finance exam, I cannot handle Beni. I can't handle anything about him.
At this moment....I hate his accent, I hate his crowded flat, I hate the way he says Baby, and I definately hate the way he thinks I get angry "so quickly"! We have been together 6 months and I feel like we are married...it's on thin ice territory! I love him madly but if I'm bored at 6 months, what the fuck is 1 year going to be like???
Monday, July 26, 2010
Uncle Sam's Bitch
Things have a way of catching up, especially when things seem to be falling in line. There is always something that knocks your legs out from under you. FAFSA pulled a Tonya Harding on me and burst my happy little bubble!
America loves changing processes and forms with little or no notice almost as much as lenders fail to continue to service loans. Unfortunately for international students like myself, forms and processes have been reorganized now all my paperwork and loans have to be re-approved and re-issued. Despite being given $20,000 (half) in January, I was denied for my second disbursement in September. No loans, No school!
While I can't blame the US for my credit card debt, I can throw a tantrum and appeal the decision, a process that might take a miracle.
I have very few options....I can pay out $1500 to make my credit current, I can find a co-signer, or I can claim bankruptcy. All options seem pretty shit but I am determined to make Uncle Sam my bitch again, at least for one more year!
America loves changing processes and forms with little or no notice almost as much as lenders fail to continue to service loans. Unfortunately for international students like myself, forms and processes have been reorganized now all my paperwork and loans have to be re-approved and re-issued. Despite being given $20,000 (half) in January, I was denied for my second disbursement in September. No loans, No school!
While I can't blame the US for my credit card debt, I can throw a tantrum and appeal the decision, a process that might take a miracle.
I have very few options....I can pay out $1500 to make my credit current, I can find a co-signer, or I can claim bankruptcy. All options seem pretty shit but I am determined to make Uncle Sam my bitch again, at least for one more year!
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Celebration
I don't need much of an excuse to celebrate but being employed is great reason! I figured I would take the boy out for dinner....still weeks away from a paycheck but I think I can splurge on a nice dinner for the guy who has paid for food, rent, nights out, and things I wanted for months. But in his own twisted fashion he decided it was better for us to cook a nice dinner and drink at home.
It only took one shot before we celebrated in the bedroom and because I am the tits, it was all about me. A couple hours of Beni's sexual congrats was followed by more shots of bootlegged Albanian booze....and booze always leads to more sex...so more bedroom highfives followed. Sex-haired and sweaty we (more me than we) cooked up some steaks and poured more wine.
Abandoning dirty dishes we headed back upstairs to fill up again...after a much needed shower we laid in bed naked, sipping wine, and spooning ice cream.
Still on cloud 9, imagining how to spend my first paycheck, we spent Saturday drinking Roki (bootlegged booze) with cousins, eating food, drinking beers, and dancing. We celebrated my job, the return of a cousin, and summer until 4 am.
It only took one shot before we celebrated in the bedroom and because I am the tits, it was all about me. A couple hours of Beni's sexual congrats was followed by more shots of bootlegged Albanian booze....and booze always leads to more sex...so more bedroom highfives followed. Sex-haired and sweaty we (more me than we) cooked up some steaks and poured more wine.
Abandoning dirty dishes we headed back upstairs to fill up again...after a much needed shower we laid in bed naked, sipping wine, and spooning ice cream.
Still on cloud 9, imagining how to spend my first paycheck, we spent Saturday drinking Roki (bootlegged booze) with cousins, eating food, drinking beers, and dancing. We celebrated my job, the return of a cousin, and summer until 4 am.
Friday, July 23, 2010
Money Money Money
My worries are finally over! I am officially employed! I have been talking to a nonprofit for a few weeks leading up to an interview today. I went in with a good feeling, I knew I would be great as the part time Fundraising Officer but it seemed way too good to be true. I did my research, I made a plan, and went in as confident as possible. And despite a few odd things to say to a potential employer, I got a call 2 hours later offering me the position.
I could not be more excited!!! I love the work and there is huge opportunities for me to leave my mark on the organization. Not to mention the pay is fantastic.....I will be bringing in the same amount of money I was in the US (after the conversion) for 20 less hours a week!
This job means more countries, a new flat, and a ticket home for the holiday!
I'd write more but I have to start celebrating with the boy who supported me the last few months!
I could not be more excited!!! I love the work and there is huge opportunities for me to leave my mark on the organization. Not to mention the pay is fantastic.....I will be bringing in the same amount of money I was in the US (after the conversion) for 20 less hours a week!
This job means more countries, a new flat, and a ticket home for the holiday!
I'd write more but I have to start celebrating with the boy who supported me the last few months!
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
The 30 Before 30
I can't book a ticket or pack my bags yet but with Egypt 3 weeks away I can at least make a list. My goal of 30 countries before 30 is underway. With #10 looming, I've scoured a global map and selected the lucky 20 countries I will visit in the next 4 years.....
The Stamped:
1. Canada
2. France
3. Italy
4. Bahamas
5. Mexico
6. Ireland
7. England
8. Sweden
9. Malta
Soon to be Stamped:
10. Egypt
The Lucky 20
11. Albania
12. Argentina
13. Australia
14. Austria
15. Brazil
16. China
17. Czech Republic
18. Germany
19. Greece
20. India
21. Japan
22. Kenya
23. Morocco
24. Peru
25. Russia
26. Scotland
27. South Africa
28. Spain
29. Turkey
30. Wales
* Yes I am counting the United Kingdom seperately....I don't think any Scotish, Welsh, or Irish people would disagree with me.....
I won't stop at 30 but it's a start and of course there is always room for additions!!!!
The Stamped:
1. Canada
2. France
3. Italy
4. Bahamas
5. Mexico
6. Ireland
7. England
8. Sweden
9. Malta
Soon to be Stamped:
10. Egypt
The Lucky 20
11. Albania
12. Argentina
13. Australia
14. Austria
15. Brazil
16. China
17. Czech Republic
18. Germany
19. Greece
20. India
21. Japan
22. Kenya
23. Morocco
24. Peru
25. Russia
26. Scotland
27. South Africa
28. Spain
29. Turkey
30. Wales
* Yes I am counting the United Kingdom seperately....I don't think any Scotish, Welsh, or Irish people would disagree with me.....
I won't stop at 30 but it's a start and of course there is always room for additions!!!!
Monday, July 19, 2010
Lovebox
1/5 of cheap Glen Vodka: 4 quid
4 Bags of Crisps: 5 quid
2 Day Passes to Lovebox: 80 Pounds
Drinking all day and night at an adult carnival: Priceless
It was an expensive weekend but it was worth every pence! A steady line of people poured into Lovebox as if it was the only thing in London. The fashion was almost as interesting as the festival itself. It was a mix of acts and types of people, making one hell of a party! Acts just seemed to come and go as they please, most of which Ashley and I only knew by name. Carnival rides, tents, and stages filled Victoria Park. By the second day Bumper Cars and a Ferris Wheel didn't seem out of place.
We pregamed each day but the atmosphere sent us to the bar over and over again. We entered a tent and worked our way to the front of the stage to listen to an unknown rapper. 3 hours and many shots later we worked our way out of the tent. The black tent made it seem like midnight, surprisingly it was still midday. We made our way to the cider treehouse for some unnecessary drinks. We finally made our way to the main stage to see Mark Ronson and pushed our way to the front of the crowd listening to an old British band. After 3 songs we were over the band, even if the crowd wasn't. We thought our plan worked, the crowd cleared out and we made our way to the front. We figured the older crowd would have to pee and we could make our move. Once we reached the front we realized, everyone cleared out. The security gaurd informed us, the show was over. The black tent didn't just mask the sun, apparently it masked the sounds of Mark Ronson going on. We missed the one act we wanted to see....that's the last time I hide in a tent all day! Well maybe not the last but next time maybe we will check the schedule first. Disappointing but still a great day of daydrinking!
4 Bags of Crisps: 5 quid
2 Day Passes to Lovebox: 80 Pounds
Drinking all day and night at an adult carnival: Priceless
It was an expensive weekend but it was worth every pence! A steady line of people poured into Lovebox as if it was the only thing in London. The fashion was almost as interesting as the festival itself. It was a mix of acts and types of people, making one hell of a party! Acts just seemed to come and go as they please, most of which Ashley and I only knew by name. Carnival rides, tents, and stages filled Victoria Park. By the second day Bumper Cars and a Ferris Wheel didn't seem out of place.
We pregamed each day but the atmosphere sent us to the bar over and over again. We entered a tent and worked our way to the front of the stage to listen to an unknown rapper. 3 hours and many shots later we worked our way out of the tent. The black tent made it seem like midnight, surprisingly it was still midday. We made our way to the cider treehouse for some unnecessary drinks. We finally made our way to the main stage to see Mark Ronson and pushed our way to the front of the crowd listening to an old British band. After 3 songs we were over the band, even if the crowd wasn't. We thought our plan worked, the crowd cleared out and we made our way to the front. We figured the older crowd would have to pee and we could make our move. Once we reached the front we realized, everyone cleared out. The security gaurd informed us, the show was over. The black tent didn't just mask the sun, apparently it masked the sounds of Mark Ronson going on. We missed the one act we wanted to see....that's the last time I hide in a tent all day! Well maybe not the last but next time maybe we will check the schedule first. Disappointing but still a great day of daydrinking!
Friday, July 16, 2010
Gothic Prostitutes?
I'm all about theme parties, put me in a toga and hand me a beer and I'm beyond a happy kid! But this was just odd, what exactly is a gothic prostitute? As a former sorority gal, I know exactly what a Golf Pros and Tennis Hoes party even a Corporate hoes and CEOs party isn't beyond me but this was a new one. It's even stranger when you're up dressed not as a Gothic whore but as a normal chick. It just doesn't seem to mesh well with electical tape, black lipstick, mesh, corsets, and leather....sadly I didn't have enough room in my suitcase for my mesh and leather.
Since I've been uber lame the last week, I took Ashley up on her invite without a second thought. I headed to Shoreditch just in time for Ash's warning, she was also in the dark about the dress code. With vodka in hand, I wasn't going back home just in time to kiss the boy goodnight, I came to drink! And drink we did...the vodka eased the awkward vision of being the only two in a color other than black. Unlike their dark dress, the people were nice and welcoming. Before long the vodka was gone and we had a new buddy. A very hot gay man who like us wanted to bail for a better scene. And there is no better scene than a gay club in my opinion. We snuck out of the flat in search for other hot men (for our new buddy of course) and some pints. Despite arriving an hour before closing, the bar was still packed. We made a lap searching for a partner for our friend before dancing. The hour flew by and us girls made friends easily. As we were ushered on to the street, we said bye to our buddy and went on the hunt for kebabs. By 5am we were ready to pass out. I watched the sun come up for the first time in weeks. Considering we had two days of Lovebox ahead of us, it was not the smartest decision but sometimes a girl just needs a good night out.
Since I've been uber lame the last week, I took Ashley up on her invite without a second thought. I headed to Shoreditch just in time for Ash's warning, she was also in the dark about the dress code. With vodka in hand, I wasn't going back home just in time to kiss the boy goodnight, I came to drink! And drink we did...the vodka eased the awkward vision of being the only two in a color other than black. Unlike their dark dress, the people were nice and welcoming. Before long the vodka was gone and we had a new buddy. A very hot gay man who like us wanted to bail for a better scene. And there is no better scene than a gay club in my opinion. We snuck out of the flat in search for other hot men (for our new buddy of course) and some pints. Despite arriving an hour before closing, the bar was still packed. We made a lap searching for a partner for our friend before dancing. The hour flew by and us girls made friends easily. As we were ushered on to the street, we said bye to our buddy and went on the hunt for kebabs. By 5am we were ready to pass out. I watched the sun come up for the first time in weeks. Considering we had two days of Lovebox ahead of us, it was not the smartest decision but sometimes a girl just needs a good night out.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Lucky Charms
If I didn't know any better I would think I am bipolar or permanently PMSing this month. The only good thing about being an emotional rollercoaster is that as quickly as I can turn into a sobbing mess, little things can swing the pendulem into the sunnier side. Everyone has a weakness and since I could never afford a pair of Louboutins, I have to settle for a cheaper mood change. It used to therapy curteosy of Victoria Secret but they put an end to those credit card swiping days so a little browsing and candy will have to be enough these days.
Rebecca and I started the day on a job mission, sadly I was unprepared. Who knew you need copies of your resume to apply to bars. After a couple of no vacancies and some dizzling of rain, we moved on to shopping. Well Rebecca shopped and I held back from pulling out my shiny cards. We leave for Egypt in 3 weeks, a trip that requires some shopping. We stumbled into my heaven...Stanfords...a travelers Mecca. Maps, atlas', travel novels, journals, backpacker gear, travel books, historical maps....anything and everything you could ever need to safari in Kenya or hike in the Highlands. We debated sleeping bags for our camping along the Nile, disolving body wash, pop up maps, and guidebooks for our trips while imagining our next adventures. An hour flew by before we had to pry ourselves out of the store. I had added Stanfords to my list of employer hopefuls and promised to return when I could spend a day planning my next adventure. And because Rebecca is badass, she surprised me with a belated birthday present, a gift certificate to my heaven.
If my travelers dream wasn't enough, we wondered around Convent Garden and discovered a special candy shop. An international candy shop, the perfect fix for homesick Americans. The shop is filled with candy from around the world, mostly America....things that are almost impossible to find. Pop Tarts, Jelly Bellys, Reeses, Lucky Charms, Vanilla Coke, Pop Rocks, War heads, Blow Pops, Cow Tales....basically a pool snack stand, penny candy included! Of course it doesn't come cheap to import your childhood goodies, 7 quid for a large bag of M&Ms or box of Lucky Charms but sometimes its worth it. I didn't drop 5 pounds on a box of pop tarts but I was tempted. I walked out cheaply considering. 8 pounds later I was sipping a Vanilla Coke debating which treats I would eat first.
It's the little things....maybe a piece of American candy a day will keep the depression at bay....
Rebecca and I started the day on a job mission, sadly I was unprepared. Who knew you need copies of your resume to apply to bars. After a couple of no vacancies and some dizzling of rain, we moved on to shopping. Well Rebecca shopped and I held back from pulling out my shiny cards. We leave for Egypt in 3 weeks, a trip that requires some shopping. We stumbled into my heaven...Stanfords...a travelers Mecca. Maps, atlas', travel novels, journals, backpacker gear, travel books, historical maps....anything and everything you could ever need to safari in Kenya or hike in the Highlands. We debated sleeping bags for our camping along the Nile, disolving body wash, pop up maps, and guidebooks for our trips while imagining our next adventures. An hour flew by before we had to pry ourselves out of the store. I had added Stanfords to my list of employer hopefuls and promised to return when I could spend a day planning my next adventure. And because Rebecca is badass, she surprised me with a belated birthday present, a gift certificate to my heaven.
If my travelers dream wasn't enough, we wondered around Convent Garden and discovered a special candy shop. An international candy shop, the perfect fix for homesick Americans. The shop is filled with candy from around the world, mostly America....things that are almost impossible to find. Pop Tarts, Jelly Bellys, Reeses, Lucky Charms, Vanilla Coke, Pop Rocks, War heads, Blow Pops, Cow Tales....basically a pool snack stand, penny candy included! Of course it doesn't come cheap to import your childhood goodies, 7 quid for a large bag of M&Ms or box of Lucky Charms but sometimes its worth it. I didn't drop 5 pounds on a box of pop tarts but I was tempted. I walked out cheaply considering. 8 pounds later I was sipping a Vanilla Coke debating which treats I would eat first.
It's the little things....maybe a piece of American candy a day will keep the depression at bay....
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