Beni and I are still trying to repair and rebuild so that means a whole lot of quality time. We barely get time alone living in little Albania so we planned 'a date'. A nice dinner sans cousins, brothers, and friends and it was nice, nice to have him all to myself and even nicer to have heard not one word of Albanian for a few hours. Over wine he addressed my fears of his jealousy. It will never happen again or at least that's what he says. But it might, I have to be prepared for that but I can't just runaway because of one bad night, I have to trust that he has learned his lesson.
Our quality time spilled over on to Margate beach the next morning. We weren't alone this time, as always we were accompanied by a brother and a friend. Their towels laid next to ours, yet we made it our own beach, it was easy to do with the England game. We ignored the crowds in the water, floating next to each other stopping for frequent kisses...yes, we were that couple, the one you hate, yet wonder what they have. If we were floating in the water, I was burying him in the sand or he was teaching me to head a football. There is really no better way to spend one of the rare hot days in England...well that is unless you are an England fan (which everyone is), not even the rare beach weather could lessen the sting of an early England exit from the Cup.
It has been a rough week, one of the rougher ones since I've been here. Depsite the perfect day in the sun, I haven't been able to shake the strong wave of homesickness. As my family and friends spent the weekend together, I have spent hours missing them. I may not be stuck in bed anymore but I am still stuck in that rut, a rut that even a day at the beach or a date can't seem to dig me out of.
Monday, June 28, 2010
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Hey Hey Goodbye...
So I really didn't believe that we were going all the way, no one did, but it was disappointing nontheless.
Flag clad, I joined a bar full of rowdy Americans ready for another victory, a come from behind upset. With each beer, the crowd grew restless but remained hopeful. Just like the other games before, America fought back to tie it up with the help of Landon. With the game tied at 1-1 after the second half, fans were ready for 30 minutes of extra time. With a bar full of Captain Americas and only 3 Ghana fans, it seemed anything other than a Yank victory would be impossible, that is unless America starts playing like a bunch of pansies...which they did. Ghana scored early, this time there would be no comeback, no throwing beers, waving flags, or chanting Yankee Doodle.....goodbye World Cup.
It was the longest tube ride home, my stars and stripes cape drew looks of pity and snickering. With America gone, I guess I'll have to cheer for my adopted country....England
Flag clad, I joined a bar full of rowdy Americans ready for another victory, a come from behind upset. With each beer, the crowd grew restless but remained hopeful. Just like the other games before, America fought back to tie it up with the help of Landon. With the game tied at 1-1 after the second half, fans were ready for 30 minutes of extra time. With a bar full of Captain Americas and only 3 Ghana fans, it seemed anything other than a Yank victory would be impossible, that is unless America starts playing like a bunch of pansies...which they did. Ghana scored early, this time there would be no comeback, no throwing beers, waving flags, or chanting Yankee Doodle.....goodbye World Cup.
It was the longest tube ride home, my stars and stripes cape drew looks of pity and snickering. With America gone, I guess I'll have to cheer for my adopted country....England
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Checks and Balances!
The phrase is rarely uttered outside of an elementary school classroom, maybe a government class or two, but it's the World Cup, any American phrases can and will apply. It isn't exactly 'Go Team' but neither is chanting "Democracy" or "Freedom". A rowdy group of flag-clad, Suess Hat and Star bandana wearing American boys led the bar cheering section. A bar that aired England vs. Slovenia on one side and America vs. Algeria on the other. I don't know of any bar capable of handling such split screen battles, yet as one of the only bars in London airing the US game, it did its best to accomodate.
I spent the first half of the game standing on a picnic table outside planning my half time rush to the Patroit side. A sea of England fans blocked any hope I had of entering the pile. Thank god for drinkers and their fags, as smokers cleared out, Rebecca and I rushed for a spot. Our hearts sunk as England took the lead against Slovenia, it was a modern day Revolutionary War, England and America taking turns yelling and offering verbal blows. With both countries tied, a win against Algeria was our only chance of advancing to the finals. Those football gods love a good joke...airing both England and the US at the same time must have given someone a great laugh. With the reversal of an US goal (off-sides my ass!) it was clear that everyone counted the US out, including the questionable referees. The second overturned goal of the Cup and a lot of uncalled fouls just about ruined the atmosphere of the Yanks, that is until 4 boys gave their best rendition of God Bless America. With the crowd on their side they moved on to 'Yankee Doodle', a real crowd favorite. The last 45 minutes continued with boisterous booing over missed shots and sighs at the bloodied American midfielder. As the game entered 3 added minutes, the crowd was silent, with hands covering mouths and heads hung low, our cheerleaders gave one final USA....USA...USA...USA!!!!!!!!!! Landon Donovan must have heard our pleas, he scored an amazing, unquestionable goal. As the players piled on their leader, we mimicked their actions, we highfived, hugged, and jumped on top of each other singing our National Anthem. Flags waved across the bar, as' Courtesy of the Red, White, and Blue' by Toby Keith escorted the last England fans out the door. As the winners of our group, it was our party, at least for another week.....
We gathered outside for celebratory beers and game discussions. The cheerleaders continued their American Idol concert, pulling out every song from the patriot catelog....My Country Tis of Thee, Sweet Land of Liberty....
Our rowdy friends were none other than fellow Pennsylvania's, a little fact that makes their random chants make sense. My new buddies and I are ready for Saturday, the flags are pressed, songs rehearsed, and the face paint brushes cleaned...Here's to hoping our underdogs don't let Ghana stand in our way of World Cup glory!
If my day wasn't Patriotic enough, I topped it off with 3 hours of an American icon, the still surprisingly sexy...Bon Jovi. I've been to the O2 arena before, to see Lady Gaga, a mistress of extreme performances yet I must say there is something about that man in leather pants, belting out my college drinking songs...I enjoyed it so much more! Rebecca, in her internet savviness, scored last minute, cheap tickets to the rock hero. 25 quid put us on the bottom level with a dirct view of the show.
They definately still have it, whatever it is. Unfortunately their opener does not still. Although I was never a huge fan of his, I can't deny that at one time he was famous, he was a headliner, and he did fuck Pamela Anderson. But like her face without make-up, Kid Rock's performance was a sad trainwreck! You know you have fallen, far far off, when you are an opener, an opener that isn't even good enough to print on the tickets. His 30 minute performance to an empty arena was enough to make you feel bad, bad enough to maybe spend a buck on iTunes on one of his greatest 'hits'. I shouldn't be too harsh, afterall he is still opening for Bon Jovi and I don't see John or Richie calling me anytime soon....
The band played all my favorite drinking songs, Dead or Alive, You Give Love a Bad Name, Bad Medicine, Bed of Roses, and of course the crowd sing along, Livin' on a Prayer. A perfect way to end an American high kind of day...
I spent the first half of the game standing on a picnic table outside planning my half time rush to the Patroit side. A sea of England fans blocked any hope I had of entering the pile. Thank god for drinkers and their fags, as smokers cleared out, Rebecca and I rushed for a spot. Our hearts sunk as England took the lead against Slovenia, it was a modern day Revolutionary War, England and America taking turns yelling and offering verbal blows. With both countries tied, a win against Algeria was our only chance of advancing to the finals. Those football gods love a good joke...airing both England and the US at the same time must have given someone a great laugh. With the reversal of an US goal (off-sides my ass!) it was clear that everyone counted the US out, including the questionable referees. The second overturned goal of the Cup and a lot of uncalled fouls just about ruined the atmosphere of the Yanks, that is until 4 boys gave their best rendition of God Bless America. With the crowd on their side they moved on to 'Yankee Doodle', a real crowd favorite. The last 45 minutes continued with boisterous booing over missed shots and sighs at the bloodied American midfielder. As the game entered 3 added minutes, the crowd was silent, with hands covering mouths and heads hung low, our cheerleaders gave one final USA....USA...USA...USA!!!!!!!!!! Landon Donovan must have heard our pleas, he scored an amazing, unquestionable goal. As the players piled on their leader, we mimicked their actions, we highfived, hugged, and jumped on top of each other singing our National Anthem. Flags waved across the bar, as' Courtesy of the Red, White, and Blue' by Toby Keith escorted the last England fans out the door. As the winners of our group, it was our party, at least for another week.....
We gathered outside for celebratory beers and game discussions. The cheerleaders continued their American Idol concert, pulling out every song from the patriot catelog....My Country Tis of Thee, Sweet Land of Liberty....
Our rowdy friends were none other than fellow Pennsylvania's, a little fact that makes their random chants make sense. My new buddies and I are ready for Saturday, the flags are pressed, songs rehearsed, and the face paint brushes cleaned...Here's to hoping our underdogs don't let Ghana stand in our way of World Cup glory!
If my day wasn't Patriotic enough, I topped it off with 3 hours of an American icon, the still surprisingly sexy...Bon Jovi. I've been to the O2 arena before, to see Lady Gaga, a mistress of extreme performances yet I must say there is something about that man in leather pants, belting out my college drinking songs...I enjoyed it so much more! Rebecca, in her internet savviness, scored last minute, cheap tickets to the rock hero. 25 quid put us on the bottom level with a dirct view of the show.
They definately still have it, whatever it is. Unfortunately their opener does not still. Although I was never a huge fan of his, I can't deny that at one time he was famous, he was a headliner, and he did fuck Pamela Anderson. But like her face without make-up, Kid Rock's performance was a sad trainwreck! You know you have fallen, far far off, when you are an opener, an opener that isn't even good enough to print on the tickets. His 30 minute performance to an empty arena was enough to make you feel bad, bad enough to maybe spend a buck on iTunes on one of his greatest 'hits'. I shouldn't be too harsh, afterall he is still opening for Bon Jovi and I don't see John or Richie calling me anytime soon....
The band played all my favorite drinking songs, Dead or Alive, You Give Love a Bad Name, Bad Medicine, Bed of Roses, and of course the crowd sing along, Livin' on a Prayer. A perfect way to end an American high kind of day...
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
It's like yelling at a puppy who has pissed on your rug. He tried to mark his turf and now I just wanted to beat him with a newspaper. But his teary big brown eyes made it near impossible to scold him, to say everything I planned on saying. I pushed his hand anyway everytime he reached for mine, determined to make my point. The jealousy had to stop, it was pointless and frustrating. By the second hour, it was easy to yell, it was even easier to extend the boundaries of our fight and add in extra annoyances just for good measure.
And by the end, I could tell he was defeated, he begged for another chance, pleaded for more time, I had battered him with words he had trouble understanding and bashed his attitude enough. We rode the tube together, finally agreeing to have dinner with him. I made him suffer through half of the meal before I gave in, I no longer wanted to fight, I wanted to kiss and have make up sex. Even though I decided how the night would end, I made him work for every inch. As we laid in bed, I debated how long I would make him suffer...,.
The question is still up for debate.....
And by the end, I could tell he was defeated, he begged for another chance, pleaded for more time, I had battered him with words he had trouble understanding and bashed his attitude enough. We rode the tube together, finally agreeing to have dinner with him. I made him suffer through half of the meal before I gave in, I no longer wanted to fight, I wanted to kiss and have make up sex. Even though I decided how the night would end, I made him work for every inch. As we laid in bed, I debated how long I would make him suffer...,.
The question is still up for debate.....
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
And the shoe drops
The lack of blogging isn't because of some wonderful holiday, it isn't for lack of time, and it certainly isn't for lack of events... I am in a funk, a stay on the couch and watch 'Come Dine with Me' or 'Friends' marathons funk topped with junk food binges and slightly questionable showering habits. The weekend had every promise of fun adventures and new starts but instead I am an unemployed girl waiting in a coffee shop wondering if I will still have a boyfriend after our scheduled coffee conversation.
Friday lived up to its potential: the US managed a draw, keeping pace with England in the race to the World Cup Finals, drinks and gossip with some buddies followed by eating my way through London. Ashley, Jose and I had VIP tickets to Taste of London in Regent's Park, a yearly event that gathers the most amazing chefs, restaurants, and booze into the park. Our VIP passes got us free champagne and our accents managed to get us a couple more from a very young British boy. We sat in on two wine tastings, sampled new vodka, whiskey, and rums before starting the 3 hour eating marathon. We each had 30 crowns to burn (the official taste of London currency), crowns that opened the door to the most amazing food I have ever eaten....most of which I still have no idea what it was. We had Halibat, Salmon, Thai noodles, Vegetarian Sushi and dumplings, calamari, Beef, Pork and Chicken...I wish I could even begin to describe how things were cooked or marinated but with all that free booze, all I can say is I just about creamed myself with every new plate. If those dishes weren't enough, which they weren't: we had gelatis, baklava, and chocolates. As the rain forced us into panchos (the pancho handled two jobs: it kept me dry and kept all of London from seeing my new muffin top thanks to our feasting!) we headed to the bar to wait out the tube rush. Since I started training for my new job early the next morning, I only stayed for a few drinks.
Saturday: The start of the downfall.
Ok so I wasn't exactly looking forward to an 8 hour training but I was looking forward to making some money for the first time in 6 months. I managed to fight off the drowsiness caused by our trainer for 8 whole hours. He was a cross between Ben Stein in Ferris Bueller and Mr. Garrison from South Park. 8 hours of 'mmmkkkkay' , righhhhttt..riigght, RIGHT!, and 'you alright with that folks?'....his coral pants and Jesus sandals were the only entertaining things about him. I have never been so relieved to see 6:30 on the clock or get an invite for a house party. I took Beni and his darling along to a house party with people from my school, people I have never really hung out with before but that seemed fun enough. Like Friday, it too had all the potential for a great night and lived up to it until 3:30am. We did more drinking than normal and by the time we arrived at the club we were all well on our way to being smashed. As we left the club to head home, my boyfriend turned into a green eyed monster. Triggered by a guy talking to me, Beni lost all control of his emotions giving jealousy a whole new meaning for me. Our fight spilled all over the streets of central London ending in two seperate cabs, a bloody, possibly broken hand(Brick wall: 1 Beni: 0), and packed bags. The boy who can barely raise his voice to me was overcome with jealousy and anger, for reasons I can't even begin to understand. Our fight carried on at his flat, monitered by Big Brother and cousin, neither able to calm his anger. As things continued to increase, I packed my things and called friends for a place to crash. Unable to stir anyone up at 5am and exhausted from crying, I gave up and slept on the couch. Less than 2 hours later, I woke up for training day #2. Beni acted as if nothing happened and as much as I wanted that to be true...it wasn't, his anger had triggered mine and made me nervous about his jealousy issues. Our normal goodbye was replaced with a 'fuck off'
Sunday: The Downfall
Hungover and upset from the night before, I struggled to make it through training. Despite my domestic drama, I managed to wiz through the computer system and fundraising scripts. I recieved mostly good feedback for my calls and scored 100% on the training test. I ignored all calls and texts from Beni throughout the day, unsure of how I wanted to handle the situation. As the training came to a close, I along with 5 others were called into a room. Mr. Monotone thanked us for our time and hard work. He continued on with 'unfotunately we cannot take everyone, I'm sorry but you are just not cut out for this kind of work, you will be paid for your time' What? This had to be a case of mistaken identity, there is no way I can be in the same room with the phone fundraisers who stuttered, cursed, and told false information! Why were the others, who were terrible all day, those that failed the test part of the 20 still employed? I spent 3 years working as a fundraiser, I have no problem asking for money and I am good at getting it, much more money than the 10 quid they wanted me to ask for. So I was let go long before I ever made my first live call. Panic, anger, and embarrassment made the tears inevitable on the tube ride back to my jealousy torn flat. As I returned to pack some essentials, I found Beni on the bed waiting for me. Neither of us spoke while he was there and I took his quick trip out as the opportunity to flee.
Defeated I didn't have the energy to fight, I had only enough in me to flee. I really wanted to flee far away but I had to settle for North London since plane tickets home are far out of my price range. I ran to Ashley and Monica's flat for some much needed venting and group thinking. How much can I handle of his jealousy? Is it worth it? Is this just the start of it? Was it a fluke incident? I continued to ignore his calls and texts...despite his pleeding, I needed a couple more days alone.
Monday and Tuesday
Beni continued to try, to apologize, and fix things...all I did was continue to sit on the couch. Ashley and Rebecca joined in on my slump, having shitty days of their own, we did what all girls do: Order pizza, drink wine, and watch movies. The next day Rebecca and I bitched about boys while eating and sitting on the couch all day. By Tuesday, I was ready to talk to him, his apologies were sincere and he was devasated by my packed suitcases.
I have been living in a wonderful little fairy tale, I have just about everything I want, It has been almost perfect. But even Cinderella must have worried about her glass slippers cracking or at the very least getting smudges...despite how much I try to avoid it, this is still real life, things will not be perfect, things will get fucked up.....
Friday lived up to its potential: the US managed a draw, keeping pace with England in the race to the World Cup Finals, drinks and gossip with some buddies followed by eating my way through London. Ashley, Jose and I had VIP tickets to Taste of London in Regent's Park, a yearly event that gathers the most amazing chefs, restaurants, and booze into the park. Our VIP passes got us free champagne and our accents managed to get us a couple more from a very young British boy. We sat in on two wine tastings, sampled new vodka, whiskey, and rums before starting the 3 hour eating marathon. We each had 30 crowns to burn (the official taste of London currency), crowns that opened the door to the most amazing food I have ever eaten....most of which I still have no idea what it was. We had Halibat, Salmon, Thai noodles, Vegetarian Sushi and dumplings, calamari, Beef, Pork and Chicken...I wish I could even begin to describe how things were cooked or marinated but with all that free booze, all I can say is I just about creamed myself with every new plate. If those dishes weren't enough, which they weren't: we had gelatis, baklava, and chocolates. As the rain forced us into panchos (the pancho handled two jobs: it kept me dry and kept all of London from seeing my new muffin top thanks to our feasting!) we headed to the bar to wait out the tube rush. Since I started training for my new job early the next morning, I only stayed for a few drinks.
Saturday: The start of the downfall.
Ok so I wasn't exactly looking forward to an 8 hour training but I was looking forward to making some money for the first time in 6 months. I managed to fight off the drowsiness caused by our trainer for 8 whole hours. He was a cross between Ben Stein in Ferris Bueller and Mr. Garrison from South Park. 8 hours of 'mmmkkkkay' , righhhhttt..riigght, RIGHT!, and 'you alright with that folks?'....his coral pants and Jesus sandals were the only entertaining things about him. I have never been so relieved to see 6:30 on the clock or get an invite for a house party. I took Beni and his darling along to a house party with people from my school, people I have never really hung out with before but that seemed fun enough. Like Friday, it too had all the potential for a great night and lived up to it until 3:30am. We did more drinking than normal and by the time we arrived at the club we were all well on our way to being smashed. As we left the club to head home, my boyfriend turned into a green eyed monster. Triggered by a guy talking to me, Beni lost all control of his emotions giving jealousy a whole new meaning for me. Our fight spilled all over the streets of central London ending in two seperate cabs, a bloody, possibly broken hand(Brick wall: 1 Beni: 0), and packed bags. The boy who can barely raise his voice to me was overcome with jealousy and anger, for reasons I can't even begin to understand. Our fight carried on at his flat, monitered by Big Brother and cousin, neither able to calm his anger. As things continued to increase, I packed my things and called friends for a place to crash. Unable to stir anyone up at 5am and exhausted from crying, I gave up and slept on the couch. Less than 2 hours later, I woke up for training day #2. Beni acted as if nothing happened and as much as I wanted that to be true...it wasn't, his anger had triggered mine and made me nervous about his jealousy issues. Our normal goodbye was replaced with a 'fuck off'
Sunday: The Downfall
Hungover and upset from the night before, I struggled to make it through training. Despite my domestic drama, I managed to wiz through the computer system and fundraising scripts. I recieved mostly good feedback for my calls and scored 100% on the training test. I ignored all calls and texts from Beni throughout the day, unsure of how I wanted to handle the situation. As the training came to a close, I along with 5 others were called into a room. Mr. Monotone thanked us for our time and hard work. He continued on with 'unfotunately we cannot take everyone, I'm sorry but you are just not cut out for this kind of work, you will be paid for your time' What? This had to be a case of mistaken identity, there is no way I can be in the same room with the phone fundraisers who stuttered, cursed, and told false information! Why were the others, who were terrible all day, those that failed the test part of the 20 still employed? I spent 3 years working as a fundraiser, I have no problem asking for money and I am good at getting it, much more money than the 10 quid they wanted me to ask for. So I was let go long before I ever made my first live call. Panic, anger, and embarrassment made the tears inevitable on the tube ride back to my jealousy torn flat. As I returned to pack some essentials, I found Beni on the bed waiting for me. Neither of us spoke while he was there and I took his quick trip out as the opportunity to flee.
Defeated I didn't have the energy to fight, I had only enough in me to flee. I really wanted to flee far away but I had to settle for North London since plane tickets home are far out of my price range. I ran to Ashley and Monica's flat for some much needed venting and group thinking. How much can I handle of his jealousy? Is it worth it? Is this just the start of it? Was it a fluke incident? I continued to ignore his calls and texts...despite his pleeding, I needed a couple more days alone.
Monday and Tuesday
Beni continued to try, to apologize, and fix things...all I did was continue to sit on the couch. Ashley and Rebecca joined in on my slump, having shitty days of their own, we did what all girls do: Order pizza, drink wine, and watch movies. The next day Rebecca and I bitched about boys while eating and sitting on the couch all day. By Tuesday, I was ready to talk to him, his apologies were sincere and he was devasated by my packed suitcases.
I have been living in a wonderful little fairy tale, I have just about everything I want, It has been almost perfect. But even Cinderella must have worried about her glass slippers cracking or at the very least getting smudges...despite how much I try to avoid it, this is still real life, things will not be perfect, things will get fucked up.....
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Lions, Tigers, and Meerkats...OH MY!
The day started in the hospital, Beni took the day off for some needed testing...since he's not a fan of me spilling every personal detail of our lives, I will leave out the specifics of his visit. He asked me to go with him since his english is not what anyone would call perfect. He has taken to using me as the official translater of all things important, a role that I get with at times...but then I remember that it is not his fault.
I have never seen him flinch but he was increasingly nervous as we walked through the maze that is a British hospital. Free healthcare is wonderful at times but Whipping Cross Hospital leaves a lot to be desired. The smell instantly made me nauseous, like any hospital, it smelled of bleach and stale sickness. Neon signs of Junctions and Waiting Cooriders pointed the way through an institution maze. Visibly shaken, Beni looked at me for help translating the quick and medical speech of his doctor. As I struggled to explain, I grew increasingly angry at the doctor who never paused for clarity, except for once to say, "Are you understanding me?"
Clearly disappointed in himself for his comphrension skills, Beni and I left to try to make the most of his rare day off. And nothing brightens the mood better than cuddly animals...ok Lions aren't cuddly but Meerkats could be.
We headed to the London Zoo in Regents Park. We headed to the Wild Dogs and Boars first, I couldn't help but to laugh at all the animals Beni said they had in Albania, a few of them he said they usually shot and ate....how wonderfully caveman of him. I raced to the Meerkats, anyone who has become obsessed with Meerkat Manor knows how damn cute these little fuckers are! I watched them for 20 minutes, burrowing and scampering around their cage.....I want a meerkat!! They seem way better than normal pets! Not to mention they have the cutest little faces I have ever seen!
We spent the next couple hours watching lazy gorrilas, playful monkeys, and pissing lions. The only thing we wanted to see almost as much as meerkats were the tigers, unfortunately they only had one and it was being a lazy bastard and sleeping. The London zoo is a good time but I was surprised at how small it was, there were a lot of animals that I was surprised we didn't see...no elephants, panda bears, polar beers, and lots of other fun beasts.
After the zoo, I took the poor possibly sick boy out to lunch then for some drinks with my classmates. Hopefully his next day off won't start surrounded by sick people but he was a happy camper by the end.
I have never seen him flinch but he was increasingly nervous as we walked through the maze that is a British hospital. Free healthcare is wonderful at times but Whipping Cross Hospital leaves a lot to be desired. The smell instantly made me nauseous, like any hospital, it smelled of bleach and stale sickness. Neon signs of Junctions and Waiting Cooriders pointed the way through an institution maze. Visibly shaken, Beni looked at me for help translating the quick and medical speech of his doctor. As I struggled to explain, I grew increasingly angry at the doctor who never paused for clarity, except for once to say, "Are you understanding me?"
Clearly disappointed in himself for his comphrension skills, Beni and I left to try to make the most of his rare day off. And nothing brightens the mood better than cuddly animals...ok Lions aren't cuddly but Meerkats could be.
We headed to the London Zoo in Regents Park. We headed to the Wild Dogs and Boars first, I couldn't help but to laugh at all the animals Beni said they had in Albania, a few of them he said they usually shot and ate....how wonderfully caveman of him. I raced to the Meerkats, anyone who has become obsessed with Meerkat Manor knows how damn cute these little fuckers are! I watched them for 20 minutes, burrowing and scampering around their cage.....I want a meerkat!! They seem way better than normal pets! Not to mention they have the cutest little faces I have ever seen!
We spent the next couple hours watching lazy gorrilas, playful monkeys, and pissing lions. The only thing we wanted to see almost as much as meerkats were the tigers, unfortunately they only had one and it was being a lazy bastard and sleeping. The London zoo is a good time but I was surprised at how small it was, there were a lot of animals that I was surprised we didn't see...no elephants, panda bears, polar beers, and lots of other fun beasts.
After the zoo, I took the poor possibly sick boy out to lunch then for some drinks with my classmates. Hopefully his next day off won't start surrounded by sick people but he was a happy camper by the end.
Sunday, June 13, 2010
The Yanks are Comin'!!
Tomato...Tamato. Soccer...Football. I like American Football, I like contact, I like when big men slam into other big men. This kicking a ball around and running up and down a field with little contact doesn't interest me but when in Rome...or when in a football (soccer) obsessed country, you have to watch, you have to pick a team, and you have to appreciate the sheer craziness of England fans! That is until your adopted country plays your homeland, in that case you hope the soccer gods are kind enough to allow an upset. As a World Cup virgin, I was beyond pumped that one of the opening games was England vs USA, all bets were against the USA but I love an underdog and I love any excuse to be an asshole....
Direct off the flight, I was ready: ready to talk shit to some Brits and ready to rock some stars and stripes. I searched for a flag in Malta but despite the multiple stands selling flags, the island was fresh out of the red, white, and blue. I took my mission to the streets of London, but its England so I had a better chance of winning a noble prize than finding stars and stripes among the sea of St. George. My invite for the American viewing party warned fellow ExPats of wearing Yankee gear on the tube, but like most warnings I ignored it. St.Georges' flag covers every balcony, window, and car...bar ceiling and facades are covered with hope of an England victory.
I did my best to make up for my lack of patriot paraphernalia...Philadelphia Phillies shirt and hat (thanks ma for the bday package) a "USA" down the right cheek and stars down the left, were all I could manage given the lack of Patriot stores. The boy and his cousin were ready to join in on the American side so we stopped for a beer before heading to the party.
An American fan walks into a bar...an English bar...
"We don't serve Americans"
"I hope your face paint is water proof"
"Did you bring your tissues"
" It's really sweet you think the US has a shot"
After one round, we headed to the tube. As a bus drove by, a group of girls on the top floor pounded the glass, chanting "USA, USA, USA". OK so there were some American fans among the Brits... I encountered more along the walk to the bar: A random high five, a chant, and a couple of honking horns
An American fan walks into a bar...an American Supporter bar...
Hundreds of Americans crowded the bar, a bar not ready for an American party. They weren't serving pints, they were serving warm Corona or even warmer Budweiser. And since we are a resourceful bunch, packs went to the off-license to smuggle in cold beers. We sat on the floor, crowded around the projection screen, booing at the sight of David Beckham, and losing control with England's first goal.
As the bar bouncer caught on about our smuggling ways, American fans were sure it would be a long tube ride home. Just as we lost hope about an Ameican upset, our underdogs got lucky with a mistake by England's goalie. The bar erupted in cheers and hugs, staying that way until the last seconds of the game.
It was a draw but a very exciting draw from the American side. I was a sad day for British football but a very good day for American soccer.
My face paint is ready for friday when America takes on Slovenia.
Direct off the flight, I was ready: ready to talk shit to some Brits and ready to rock some stars and stripes. I searched for a flag in Malta but despite the multiple stands selling flags, the island was fresh out of the red, white, and blue. I took my mission to the streets of London, but its England so I had a better chance of winning a noble prize than finding stars and stripes among the sea of St. George. My invite for the American viewing party warned fellow ExPats of wearing Yankee gear on the tube, but like most warnings I ignored it. St.Georges' flag covers every balcony, window, and car...bar ceiling and facades are covered with hope of an England victory.
I did my best to make up for my lack of patriot paraphernalia...Philadelphia Phillies shirt and hat (thanks ma for the bday package) a "USA" down the right cheek and stars down the left, were all I could manage given the lack of Patriot stores. The boy and his cousin were ready to join in on the American side so we stopped for a beer before heading to the party.
An American fan walks into a bar...an English bar...
"We don't serve Americans"
"I hope your face paint is water proof"
"Did you bring your tissues"
" It's really sweet you think the US has a shot"
After one round, we headed to the tube. As a bus drove by, a group of girls on the top floor pounded the glass, chanting "USA, USA, USA". OK so there were some American fans among the Brits... I encountered more along the walk to the bar: A random high five, a chant, and a couple of honking horns
An American fan walks into a bar...an American Supporter bar...
Hundreds of Americans crowded the bar, a bar not ready for an American party. They weren't serving pints, they were serving warm Corona or even warmer Budweiser. And since we are a resourceful bunch, packs went to the off-license to smuggle in cold beers. We sat on the floor, crowded around the projection screen, booing at the sight of David Beckham, and losing control with England's first goal.
As the bar bouncer caught on about our smuggling ways, American fans were sure it would be a long tube ride home. Just as we lost hope about an Ameican upset, our underdogs got lucky with a mistake by England's goalie. The bar erupted in cheers and hugs, staying that way until the last seconds of the game.
It was a draw but a very exciting draw from the American side. I was a sad day for British football but a very good day for American soccer.
My face paint is ready for friday when America takes on Slovenia.
Saturday, June 12, 2010
The Blue Grotto: Round 2
We vowed not to drink, as to not be hungover for our second attempt at the Blue Grotto. Slightly wiser from the two days earlier, we called to see if the Blue Grotto was open, with assurance it was, we were back on the bus. Ashley, Monica, and I arrived to see her family visibly pissed. Despite saying it was open for boats rides, we were again turned away by tarped boats, the minimal waves were still too much for the small boats. A disappointing moment of my last day but there is always another time...Malta is a place I would like to travel back to and when I do, those boats better be ready!
I wasn't going to let that stop me from enjoying the day, it was still better than being in London. We drove back to the beach for a day of laying out and floating in the bay. Very rarely do I have a relaxing holiday, I always feel like I am rushing to see as much as possible so it was nice to just stop and enjoy. We spent the afternoon doing just that, resting up for a night out.
We got dressed up to go to Malta's fanciest club, club 22 that sits on top of the islands' only skyscapper. Before heading out, we stopped to pregame at a small pub. We downed a couple beers and 4-5 shots each , drinking with the bartender and dancing around to 80s music, before venturing to the club. As two of us stood back, Ashley and the two guys were let in by the bouncer. Coming back out to get us, we all waited again in a short line, this time the bouncer refused the boys, citing shorts as a violation of the dress code. It would have been no big deal but we stood back as 4 men wearing shorts were granted entrance, realizing there would be no changing the outcome we headed back to the strip. More trays of shots had us dancing in no time. I joined a group of guys and gals dancing on the bar before heading to another club. The second club was similar to the first, cheap shots and old school music. As much fun as it was, I felt out of place. As the only member of the group not on the prowl, it was a little weird when the others paired off. Awkward! Since it was already 3:30-4, I decided to leave to avoid standing in a corner drunk by myself as the others found a one night fling. For the first time, I felt weird having a boyfriend, maybe a little less cool because I was not interested in hooking up. Although I know it was completely in my head, I couldn't shake the 5th wheel feeling Drunk and tired, I took a cab home to finish packing and get ready to head back to London. Without sleeping I left for London at 5:30am.
As fun and relaxing as Malta was, I was ready to get home and grateful to have someone waiting at Heathrow's arrival gate.
I wasn't going to let that stop me from enjoying the day, it was still better than being in London. We drove back to the beach for a day of laying out and floating in the bay. Very rarely do I have a relaxing holiday, I always feel like I am rushing to see as much as possible so it was nice to just stop and enjoy. We spent the afternoon doing just that, resting up for a night out.
We got dressed up to go to Malta's fanciest club, club 22 that sits on top of the islands' only skyscapper. Before heading out, we stopped to pregame at a small pub. We downed a couple beers and 4-5 shots each , drinking with the bartender and dancing around to 80s music, before venturing to the club. As two of us stood back, Ashley and the two guys were let in by the bouncer. Coming back out to get us, we all waited again in a short line, this time the bouncer refused the boys, citing shorts as a violation of the dress code. It would have been no big deal but we stood back as 4 men wearing shorts were granted entrance, realizing there would be no changing the outcome we headed back to the strip. More trays of shots had us dancing in no time. I joined a group of guys and gals dancing on the bar before heading to another club. The second club was similar to the first, cheap shots and old school music. As much fun as it was, I felt out of place. As the only member of the group not on the prowl, it was a little weird when the others paired off. Awkward! Since it was already 3:30-4, I decided to leave to avoid standing in a corner drunk by myself as the others found a one night fling. For the first time, I felt weird having a boyfriend, maybe a little less cool because I was not interested in hooking up. Although I know it was completely in my head, I couldn't shake the 5th wheel feeling Drunk and tired, I took a cab home to finish packing and get ready to head back to London. Without sleeping I left for London at 5:30am.
As fun and relaxing as Malta was, I was ready to get home and grateful to have someone waiting at Heathrow's arrival gate.
Friday, June 11, 2010
Camino and Gozo
The unfortunate matter of the Blue Grotto didn't stop us from seeing the rest of the attractions but it did force us to plan better, thank god for mothers and their planning!!! Ashley's mom booked a day excursion to the islands of Camino and Gozo.
We woke up confused about our location and rushed back to make ourselves acceptable but not before eating another pasitzzi at 730am. Still drunk and barreling into a potentially terrible hangover, we boarded a small ferry for an hour trip to Gozo. It was only 20 minutes before one of us was puking off the back of the boat, luckily it wasn't me, although I was sure it was going to be for most of the ride. As we pulled into port, we were told to board the bus for a 3 hour sightseeing trip around the island, a trip we didn't want. It was one of those hop on, hop off, take a quick photo, and hop back on to the next spot. This idea didn't please any of us, especially Ash's mom, with her urging and pleading, we were allowed to pile into a jeep for our own tour.
Paul, a short, chubby, Maltese man, vowed to show us the side of Gozo that the bus would miss. Besides almost wetting my pants, I was pretty sure I would die. We were going to die by the lead foot of Paul, his belly jiggled as he roared , taking hairpin turns through the steep cliffs and hills at 40 mph. With nothing to stop the car from crashing into the waves below us, I had trouble looking anywhere but at my feet. Paul slammed on the brakes inches from the edge of the cliff. White with fear, we stepped onto the rocks to see one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen. It was as if we were one of 10 people in the world to see it and Paul was beaming at the fact that he was the one to show us.
Before piling back into the death jeep, we looked at our path, it was amazing that we were alive, one inch closer and we would have been shark bait, that is if we made it to the water without cracking our skulls on the rocks first. The next stop on Paul's tour was, Splendi Bay, right in the heart of a small town. Clear blue water invited us in for an afternoon dip before Ashley and her brother jumped off a 50 ft cliff into the water. It was then that I realized I have become a pussy, to scared to jump, I watched as they splashed into the clear water. I would say I regret it but when Ashley said she wouldn't do it again, I was ok with my pussy status. We dried off over our nutella and mint gelatis before putting our lives in Paul's hand once again. Back through the town of Victoria into the cliffs to Dwejra or Azur Window, a remote attraction in Gozo. It is a massive land bridge that forms a window in the middle of the rocks. Beautiful and overwhelming, we climbed into the water, wading through sea urchins and jelly fish to get a better view.
With limited time left, we rushed back to meet the boat to Camino but not before stopping for limestone quarries. I would never think to want to see something like this but Paul knew better. We stopped at the edge to look down 100s of feet to the saws cutting blocks of limestone, only stopping when sea level is reached. The deep cuts in stone tell the story of technology, at the top, jagged cuts create uneven shapes clearly made by hammers and man power. As the quarry deepened, the shapes became uniform and sharp. On the way back to the port, Paul stopped multiple times, reaching out of the jeep to pick plants and flowers, urging us to smell different spices and plants local to Gozo.
Paul weaved in and out of traffic, racing to get us back on time. Slamming on the brakes as we reached the boat, we jumped out and bid farewell to our chipper tour guide.
Back on the boat, armed with motion sickness meds, we sailed to the island of Camino. The rough landscape leaves it uninhabitated, except for one hotel for tourists. The pull of Camino is the Blue Lagoon. Water that makes Tiffany's blue look dull, draws boats and tourists year round. Parking among booze cruises and yachts, we climbed down rocks to the water. The sun had faded but I was determined to swim in the famous water. Alone, I swam across the lagoon through water, a color unlike I have ever seen before. It is deep, yet seems shallow with rocks and seaweed visible at any angle.
Before headed back to the main island, the ferry stopped in the crystal caves of Camino, revealing water colors crayola crayons only attempt to immitate.
We arrived an hour later to have dinner with another London friend, Ashley's roommate and fellow American, Monica flew in to join us for a few days.
We woke up confused about our location and rushed back to make ourselves acceptable but not before eating another pasitzzi at 730am. Still drunk and barreling into a potentially terrible hangover, we boarded a small ferry for an hour trip to Gozo. It was only 20 minutes before one of us was puking off the back of the boat, luckily it wasn't me, although I was sure it was going to be for most of the ride. As we pulled into port, we were told to board the bus for a 3 hour sightseeing trip around the island, a trip we didn't want. It was one of those hop on, hop off, take a quick photo, and hop back on to the next spot. This idea didn't please any of us, especially Ash's mom, with her urging and pleading, we were allowed to pile into a jeep for our own tour.
Paul, a short, chubby, Maltese man, vowed to show us the side of Gozo that the bus would miss. Besides almost wetting my pants, I was pretty sure I would die. We were going to die by the lead foot of Paul, his belly jiggled as he roared , taking hairpin turns through the steep cliffs and hills at 40 mph. With nothing to stop the car from crashing into the waves below us, I had trouble looking anywhere but at my feet. Paul slammed on the brakes inches from the edge of the cliff. White with fear, we stepped onto the rocks to see one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen. It was as if we were one of 10 people in the world to see it and Paul was beaming at the fact that he was the one to show us.
Before piling back into the death jeep, we looked at our path, it was amazing that we were alive, one inch closer and we would have been shark bait, that is if we made it to the water without cracking our skulls on the rocks first. The next stop on Paul's tour was, Splendi Bay, right in the heart of a small town. Clear blue water invited us in for an afternoon dip before Ashley and her brother jumped off a 50 ft cliff into the water. It was then that I realized I have become a pussy, to scared to jump, I watched as they splashed into the clear water. I would say I regret it but when Ashley said she wouldn't do it again, I was ok with my pussy status. We dried off over our nutella and mint gelatis before putting our lives in Paul's hand once again. Back through the town of Victoria into the cliffs to Dwejra or Azur Window, a remote attraction in Gozo. It is a massive land bridge that forms a window in the middle of the rocks. Beautiful and overwhelming, we climbed into the water, wading through sea urchins and jelly fish to get a better view.
With limited time left, we rushed back to meet the boat to Camino but not before stopping for limestone quarries. I would never think to want to see something like this but Paul knew better. We stopped at the edge to look down 100s of feet to the saws cutting blocks of limestone, only stopping when sea level is reached. The deep cuts in stone tell the story of technology, at the top, jagged cuts create uneven shapes clearly made by hammers and man power. As the quarry deepened, the shapes became uniform and sharp. On the way back to the port, Paul stopped multiple times, reaching out of the jeep to pick plants and flowers, urging us to smell different spices and plants local to Gozo.
Paul weaved in and out of traffic, racing to get us back on time. Slamming on the brakes as we reached the boat, we jumped out and bid farewell to our chipper tour guide.
Back on the boat, armed with motion sickness meds, we sailed to the island of Camino. The rough landscape leaves it uninhabitated, except for one hotel for tourists. The pull of Camino is the Blue Lagoon. Water that makes Tiffany's blue look dull, draws boats and tourists year round. Parking among booze cruises and yachts, we climbed down rocks to the water. The sun had faded but I was determined to swim in the famous water. Alone, I swam across the lagoon through water, a color unlike I have ever seen before. It is deep, yet seems shallow with rocks and seaweed visible at any angle.
Before headed back to the main island, the ferry stopped in the crystal caves of Camino, revealing water colors crayola crayons only attempt to immitate.
We arrived an hour later to have dinner with another London friend, Ashley's roommate and fellow American, Monica flew in to join us for a few days.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
The Blue Grotto
Malta is small but there are so many natural sights to see that we had to make the most of each day. After our morning pastizzis (doughy goodness filled with ricotta cheese) we took our chances with the bus system, if we can handle London, Malta should be easy. And it was, the 1950s style buses sans air conditioning was simple to manage...simple and very cheap. For a little over a euro we arrived an hour later on the southern tip of the island to see the most famous attraction, the Blue Grotto. Incrediable views of the cliff awaited us as we stepped of the bus. Visitors board small colorful boats to tour caves and sail under the opening of the Grotto. We tippy toed down to the boats only to find dozens covered with tarps and a whole pack of confused tourists. It was National Lampoons Wally World, Mediterranean style. The seemingly calm rock of the sea was too much for the small boats that day and we were turned away, missing the greatest attraction.
Defeated, we tried to make the most of the day, touring the southern part of Malta. We drove through villages, admiring the beige architecture covered in colorful flags, each village flying their own colors. Still recovering from a religious festival days before, the villages were quiet and quaint, nothing like I have ever seen before. Unlike other cities, devasted by attempted takeovers and great wars, Malta's history unfolds before you. Limestone walls and medival coastal watch towers reveal the tales of WW2 bombs and unwelcomed guests. They have been influenced by everyone from the British to the Turkish, keeping pieces of each culture to create their own unique environment. We drove through the reminents, walls left unbuilt, a reminder of a time we will never understand. Ashleys grandmother, like many of our older relatives were directly affected, forced to leave their homes fearing for safety from world bullies. And just as we realized we would never have to experience situations like that, we remembered the millions of other who do and will continue to see reminders of war on their way home. Once again, we were reminded how lucky we are to live under the arms of a world bully.
Before driving back to the beach, we stopped at Ghar Lapsi, small natural pools surrounded by rocks and cliffs. Jellyfish washing up onto the rock walkways were enough to make me nervous getting in the water but I did it anways, taking my chances at a quick dip.
With a nice drive back to Selima, we were ready for more sun. On our way to sun, we stopped for lunch along the port. Malta is much cheaper than I expected, for 10 quid each we had a bottle of wine, lunch for two, and topped it off with some ice cream...ya know there is no point in trying to diet on holiday, not when there is so much to eat and drink. Warmed by the wine and the sun, we searched for a spot to soak up the last hours of sun. Maybe it was the men in speedos playing water polo but we were drawn to a natural pool...concrete walls contained 25 yards of the sea, fit with deck chairs and ladders into the ocean..we were in my new idea of heaven.
With two early night under our knickers, we were ready to see what the Maltese men had to offer...No I wasn't going to trade my Albanian for another dark handsome man but I was ready for some innocent dancing. Ashley's brother and friend Pat joined us. A strip of bars and nightclubs were the perfect starting point. We danced for hours to tunes circa 1990s and early 2000s...Everything from Genie in a bottle to Party up. That combined with a tray of 12 shots for 10 euros was a flashback to my freshmen year of college.
By 3 we were ready for some take away beer, chips and bed so we went back to her brothers hotel. We planned on cabbing it home but when opportunity arose we took it. A balcony and an empty room begged for drunk passing out. The boys hopped the balcony and opened the empty room, it took two minutes of maybe we shouldn'ts before we crawled into bed.
Defeated, we tried to make the most of the day, touring the southern part of Malta. We drove through villages, admiring the beige architecture covered in colorful flags, each village flying their own colors. Still recovering from a religious festival days before, the villages were quiet and quaint, nothing like I have ever seen before. Unlike other cities, devasted by attempted takeovers and great wars, Malta's history unfolds before you. Limestone walls and medival coastal watch towers reveal the tales of WW2 bombs and unwelcomed guests. They have been influenced by everyone from the British to the Turkish, keeping pieces of each culture to create their own unique environment. We drove through the reminents, walls left unbuilt, a reminder of a time we will never understand. Ashleys grandmother, like many of our older relatives were directly affected, forced to leave their homes fearing for safety from world bullies. And just as we realized we would never have to experience situations like that, we remembered the millions of other who do and will continue to see reminders of war on their way home. Once again, we were reminded how lucky we are to live under the arms of a world bully.
Before driving back to the beach, we stopped at Ghar Lapsi, small natural pools surrounded by rocks and cliffs. Jellyfish washing up onto the rock walkways were enough to make me nervous getting in the water but I did it anways, taking my chances at a quick dip.
With a nice drive back to Selima, we were ready for more sun. On our way to sun, we stopped for lunch along the port. Malta is much cheaper than I expected, for 10 quid each we had a bottle of wine, lunch for two, and topped it off with some ice cream...ya know there is no point in trying to diet on holiday, not when there is so much to eat and drink. Warmed by the wine and the sun, we searched for a spot to soak up the last hours of sun. Maybe it was the men in speedos playing water polo but we were drawn to a natural pool...concrete walls contained 25 yards of the sea, fit with deck chairs and ladders into the ocean..we were in my new idea of heaven.
With two early night under our knickers, we were ready to see what the Maltese men had to offer...No I wasn't going to trade my Albanian for another dark handsome man but I was ready for some innocent dancing. Ashley's brother and friend Pat joined us. A strip of bars and nightclubs were the perfect starting point. We danced for hours to tunes circa 1990s and early 2000s...Everything from Genie in a bottle to Party up. That combined with a tray of 12 shots for 10 euros was a flashback to my freshmen year of college.
By 3 we were ready for some take away beer, chips and bed so we went back to her brothers hotel. We planned on cabbing it home but when opportunity arose we took it. A balcony and an empty room begged for drunk passing out. The boys hopped the balcony and opened the empty room, it took two minutes of maybe we shouldn'ts before we crawled into bed.
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Beaches and Beer
England, Ireland, Italy, France, Sweden, Canada, Bahamas, Holland, and now Malta. I am on my way to 30 countries before I turn 30. It's the only thing on my bucket list, I don't really plan on dying before 30 but I can't plan that far ahead so one thing on the list is as far as I got.
I knew nothing about Malta beyond I needed a bikini, a bikini my body wasn't really ready for but if it was anything like the Jersey shore, I was pretty sure I wouldn't be the worst on on the beach. But then again, I am in Europe, Snookies don't run around in Europe. All it took was two topless sets of tits and a couple dental floss thongs and I was regretting that second pastizzi of the day. Proper European women especially dark and exotic ones, make you wish you had taken Suzanne Sommers' up on her thighmaster. But I didn't and any insecurities about my less than hard body vanished with a quick look at the clear blue water crashing around the cliffs.
With a grandmother straight off the boat from Malta, Ashley and her family planned a trip back. I couldn't resist the offer to join them for a few days. A mere 160 pounds bought me a 5 day excursion to the Malta, Camino, and Gozo. We woke up, bikini clad to a sunny breeze. Ashley's mother, friend, brother and his friend headed off to St. Julian's beach. A small but beautiful beach, calm enough to spend the day floating on a blow up turtle and yellow raft. Sunburnt and exhausted from the sun (6 months in London and we forget what sunscreen and warm weather do) we got ready to spend the night in Mdina. A walled medival town, seemingly unaware of the dirt, skyscappers, and crowds that fill the rest of Europe. Wine and the Mediterranean dinner was only topped by the orange sun setting behind us. We walked through the old streets to a lit cathedral before heading home for the evening. And unlike any night since I've left home, I was content with crawling into bed before 11.
I knew nothing about Malta beyond I needed a bikini, a bikini my body wasn't really ready for but if it was anything like the Jersey shore, I was pretty sure I wouldn't be the worst on on the beach. But then again, I am in Europe, Snookies don't run around in Europe. All it took was two topless sets of tits and a couple dental floss thongs and I was regretting that second pastizzi of the day. Proper European women especially dark and exotic ones, make you wish you had taken Suzanne Sommers' up on her thighmaster. But I didn't and any insecurities about my less than hard body vanished with a quick look at the clear blue water crashing around the cliffs.
With a grandmother straight off the boat from Malta, Ashley and her family planned a trip back. I couldn't resist the offer to join them for a few days. A mere 160 pounds bought me a 5 day excursion to the Malta, Camino, and Gozo. We woke up, bikini clad to a sunny breeze. Ashley's mother, friend, brother and his friend headed off to St. Julian's beach. A small but beautiful beach, calm enough to spend the day floating on a blow up turtle and yellow raft. Sunburnt and exhausted from the sun (6 months in London and we forget what sunscreen and warm weather do) we got ready to spend the night in Mdina. A walled medival town, seemingly unaware of the dirt, skyscappers, and crowds that fill the rest of Europe. Wine and the Mediterranean dinner was only topped by the orange sun setting behind us. We walked through the old streets to a lit cathedral before heading home for the evening. And unlike any night since I've left home, I was content with crawling into bed before 11.
Sunday, June 6, 2010
The Weekend of Beni
I love birthdays, I love any excuse for a celebration, and I love the boy so I decided to make his birthday as big of a deal as I make mine. He is without a doubt the most unselfish guy I know, constantly giving to other people....so I did m best to give him the American birthday treatment he never had. Birthdays are big for them too but I could tell by the way he eyed his stack of 10 presents that he has never been given this much.
I love buying presents, especially when you know exactly what to get the person. He was easy, he doesn't have much, the hard part was stopping myself from swiping my credit card everytime I saw something that he would like. Thank god the birthday is over, any longer and I would have maxed out my card!
I am not the domestic one in our relationship but I did manage to stir up my inner Susy Homemaker in the kitchen. His cousins laughed as I baked a cake, made BBQ chicken, and whipped up some dips. They didn't see the Betty Crocker box or the dip seasonings but I suspect they would have been just as impressed. As 9 Albanian men sat around my spread and decorated room, I could tell they were slightly nervous about testing anything the American girlfriend made. I won them over eventually thanks to the beauty of jello shots.
They looked at my alcoholic creation, baffled by the taste and consistency. As each person arrived, another forced the shots on them....it was like the terrible party joke, try this, and they laughed as the next person gagged on the vodka flavored jello. After the first round of shots and two cases of beer, they were a little more willing to try my food, taco dip, ranch dip and veggies were a big hit, especially with each beer. English conversation was limited but they took turns translating for me. We drank, danced, drank more, and laughed as everyone got drunker. I was spent back in the kitchen to make more of those American shots, there were girls coming and heaven forbid if these ladies didn't get a chance to gag on jello. The cousin danced around, joking about who would get a shot at the 3 women... My money was on his cousin and little brother, little brother may barely speak english but he's goodlooking and his cousin could talk the pants off anyone but with Albanians it could be anyones game!
The girls arrived: 3 Latvian girls decked out for the club. It was clear we were not the same type of girls but despite our obvious differences I was impressed they could open beers with their dangerously long fake nails. Jamel sent me in to the living room to chat with them, I am the resident wing woman afterall! 3 girls meant english conversation, plus it's always nice to add a few more boobs in the room.
They were the next to be handed the American shots and with them shots were passed around until the jello was gone. And since no party is complete without beer pong, I taught my Albanian and Latvian friends my favorite drinking game. It was funny and sad at the same time, only sad because my boyfriend hit every cup and kicked my ass. So much for showing off my skills....
As people fought to get Beni off the table, I organized another round of shots, while his cousins danced around me, stopping only to pick me up and spin me around. When there was a break in the game, Rocky and I got the cake ready. We made a sad attempt at singing between my horrible voice and broken english, Happy Birthday has never sounded like such torture. I made Betty Crocker proud! Unfortunately I had no one to laugh with when the 3 girls asked me for my wonderful chocolate cake recipe...I assured them it was simple as I served seconds to Beni and his brothers. Apparently Betty Crocker, Jello Shots, and Beer Pong are the way to the Albanian heart...
We drank until the sun came up, the birthday boy and I ended up sleeping on the floor surrounded by cousins and friends. Over breakfast the next morning (I cooked omelets for the boys...I know I am a domestic diva at least for one weekend) I heard that my predictions were right...Little brother and his cousin did succeed to take a female prize....
All my hard kitchen work was well worth it, Beni has never looked so happy and I know he had a wonderful birthday. I accepted his thanks and he assured me he knew my cooking and cleaning were not going to become an everday occurance.
I love buying presents, especially when you know exactly what to get the person. He was easy, he doesn't have much, the hard part was stopping myself from swiping my credit card everytime I saw something that he would like. Thank god the birthday is over, any longer and I would have maxed out my card!
I am not the domestic one in our relationship but I did manage to stir up my inner Susy Homemaker in the kitchen. His cousins laughed as I baked a cake, made BBQ chicken, and whipped up some dips. They didn't see the Betty Crocker box or the dip seasonings but I suspect they would have been just as impressed. As 9 Albanian men sat around my spread and decorated room, I could tell they were slightly nervous about testing anything the American girlfriend made. I won them over eventually thanks to the beauty of jello shots.
They looked at my alcoholic creation, baffled by the taste and consistency. As each person arrived, another forced the shots on them....it was like the terrible party joke, try this, and they laughed as the next person gagged on the vodka flavored jello. After the first round of shots and two cases of beer, they were a little more willing to try my food, taco dip, ranch dip and veggies were a big hit, especially with each beer. English conversation was limited but they took turns translating for me. We drank, danced, drank more, and laughed as everyone got drunker. I was spent back in the kitchen to make more of those American shots, there were girls coming and heaven forbid if these ladies didn't get a chance to gag on jello. The cousin danced around, joking about who would get a shot at the 3 women... My money was on his cousin and little brother, little brother may barely speak english but he's goodlooking and his cousin could talk the pants off anyone but with Albanians it could be anyones game!
The girls arrived: 3 Latvian girls decked out for the club. It was clear we were not the same type of girls but despite our obvious differences I was impressed they could open beers with their dangerously long fake nails. Jamel sent me in to the living room to chat with them, I am the resident wing woman afterall! 3 girls meant english conversation, plus it's always nice to add a few more boobs in the room.
They were the next to be handed the American shots and with them shots were passed around until the jello was gone. And since no party is complete without beer pong, I taught my Albanian and Latvian friends my favorite drinking game. It was funny and sad at the same time, only sad because my boyfriend hit every cup and kicked my ass. So much for showing off my skills....
As people fought to get Beni off the table, I organized another round of shots, while his cousins danced around me, stopping only to pick me up and spin me around. When there was a break in the game, Rocky and I got the cake ready. We made a sad attempt at singing between my horrible voice and broken english, Happy Birthday has never sounded like such torture. I made Betty Crocker proud! Unfortunately I had no one to laugh with when the 3 girls asked me for my wonderful chocolate cake recipe...I assured them it was simple as I served seconds to Beni and his brothers. Apparently Betty Crocker, Jello Shots, and Beer Pong are the way to the Albanian heart...
We drank until the sun came up, the birthday boy and I ended up sleeping on the floor surrounded by cousins and friends. Over breakfast the next morning (I cooked omelets for the boys...I know I am a domestic diva at least for one weekend) I heard that my predictions were right...Little brother and his cousin did succeed to take a female prize....
All my hard kitchen work was well worth it, Beni has never looked so happy and I know he had a wonderful birthday. I accepted his thanks and he assured me he knew my cooking and cleaning were not going to become an everday occurance.
Thursday, June 3, 2010
A Day of Good News
I have a job!!!! I finished my last final!!!!! Woot Woot!
When I return from Malta on Saturday, I have to schedule my training as a call center fundraiser...glamorous I know! Set the caller ID now, because I will be getting paid crap to call and beg you for your hard earned cash! Ok, to be honest I am not that excited about this job, in fact I think it has alo of potential to become my nightmare but I am excited to get a paycheck, even if it is minimal. More money= more travel! Not too mention I need some cash fast to replenish my account after all the birthday presents I bought for the boy...
Just as I got the good news on the job front, I was prepping for my last Uni final. A two hour test that meant a 4 month break from school! After a two week break from class, it was near impossible to motivate myself to re-open the books, but I managed to struggle through a few hours of revision.
And just like our last day of class, we were off to celebrate the end of exams. Our class joined another class (a semester ahead of us) for some drinks at the school pub and then to Highbury Park. A couple of beers at the park were enough to ease some of the awkwardness between the two groups, we have spent the semester in our own groups, rarely joining together for socializing. As we sat in a large circle drinking and eating, I noticed another American accent, a girl from New Jersey and I quickly bonded over mutual hangouts. My new buddy and I have much more in common than close locations, we both found a prime outdoor pee spot (yes, we are both classy but what else are you supposed to do when drinking in a park?) , we both fell for European boys, and we knew how to drink more than our European classmates! It wasn't a surprise that we were the firsts to hop the fence to play in the kiddie park, it also wasn't a surprise when I woke up with bruises from my fall over the fence!
After 3 or 4 hours a good drinking, we moved the party to a pub for the remainder of the night. It is always amazing to me how many different cultures I am surrounded by each day, we may have trouble understand each others accents but we all understand what shots and a band mean. Unfortunately since I live an enternity away from everything central, I had to leave the party early and catch the tube back to the boy. As glad as I am to be done school, I am slightly sad that I won't get to see everyone as often as before.
When I return from Malta on Saturday, I have to schedule my training as a call center fundraiser...glamorous I know! Set the caller ID now, because I will be getting paid crap to call and beg you for your hard earned cash! Ok, to be honest I am not that excited about this job, in fact I think it has alo of potential to become my nightmare but I am excited to get a paycheck, even if it is minimal. More money= more travel! Not too mention I need some cash fast to replenish my account after all the birthday presents I bought for the boy...
Just as I got the good news on the job front, I was prepping for my last Uni final. A two hour test that meant a 4 month break from school! After a two week break from class, it was near impossible to motivate myself to re-open the books, but I managed to struggle through a few hours of revision.
And just like our last day of class, we were off to celebrate the end of exams. Our class joined another class (a semester ahead of us) for some drinks at the school pub and then to Highbury Park. A couple of beers at the park were enough to ease some of the awkwardness between the two groups, we have spent the semester in our own groups, rarely joining together for socializing. As we sat in a large circle drinking and eating, I noticed another American accent, a girl from New Jersey and I quickly bonded over mutual hangouts. My new buddy and I have much more in common than close locations, we both found a prime outdoor pee spot (yes, we are both classy but what else are you supposed to do when drinking in a park?) , we both fell for European boys, and we knew how to drink more than our European classmates! It wasn't a surprise that we were the firsts to hop the fence to play in the kiddie park, it also wasn't a surprise when I woke up with bruises from my fall over the fence!
After 3 or 4 hours a good drinking, we moved the party to a pub for the remainder of the night. It is always amazing to me how many different cultures I am surrounded by each day, we may have trouble understand each others accents but we all understand what shots and a band mean. Unfortunately since I live an enternity away from everything central, I had to leave the party early and catch the tube back to the boy. As glad as I am to be done school, I am slightly sad that I won't get to see everyone as often as before.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
3 Men and A Lady
I have been slacking as a blogger, I used to make time everyday to write but the past weeks events have kept me off the computer and with a severe lack of free time. I spent the last week lugging suitcases from Regent's Park to East London, my new home, at least my new summer home. As Beni hauled two suitcases and a duffel bag up two flights of tube stairs, I felt a huge wave of anxiety. My shoulders ached under the weight of my packed life,which seemed a lot heavy than 4 months ago at Heathrow.
He couldn't keep from smiling, even though I know he saw the panic in my eyes but what's a relatively homeless gal to do? Suck it up, unpack, and try to enjoy living with 3 Albanians. I have never made this big of a move, I have never lived with a boy, I have barely spent more than a week straight with a boyfriend.
As we approached his flat, he stopped, kissed me, and told me how wonderful this would be. I nodded my head and told him to try his best not to kick me out in a week. Before I had even dropped my bags on his bed, he began to make way for my collection of clothes and shoes. He pilled everything he owned into one section of the wardrobe and gave me reign over the other side. It was filled with one suticase, only 1 case, 2 duffel bags, and a backpack to go...and then there was the issue of the shoes. Where the fuck would my shoes go? Panic washed over me again as I sat surrounded by boots, this was a mistake...
We gave up for the day, promising to finish later this week, we took advantage of the pluses of living with a significant other....lots and lots of sex. And as if that wasn't good enough, my joyful boyfriend has calmed my nerves by going down on me multiple times this week. If I knew moving in was all it took to get a little downtown action, I would have done this weeks ago!
Things have settled, we have found some sort of path in the obsticle course of my belongings. He is thrilled and I am used to the idea of coming home to him everyday. It has been one week and we are both still alive, neither has been smoothered by a pillow during the middle of the night, a big success in my opinion.
And after a week, I have realized the perks. I wake up to a very hot man, a man who has done my laundry twice, brought me coffee every morning, and hasn't let me starve to death. Yes we are always surrounded by a brother or a cousin but I adore them so I don't mind, in fact it takes some of the pressure of being a happily co-habitating couple off the table.
So until next week, we are the scuffle-free, affectionate, playful, co-habitating couple managing not to kill each other in a very crowded flat in dumpy East London. Not exactly the fairytale I imagined for this week but I'll take it....
He couldn't keep from smiling, even though I know he saw the panic in my eyes but what's a relatively homeless gal to do? Suck it up, unpack, and try to enjoy living with 3 Albanians. I have never made this big of a move, I have never lived with a boy, I have barely spent more than a week straight with a boyfriend.
As we approached his flat, he stopped, kissed me, and told me how wonderful this would be. I nodded my head and told him to try his best not to kick me out in a week. Before I had even dropped my bags on his bed, he began to make way for my collection of clothes and shoes. He pilled everything he owned into one section of the wardrobe and gave me reign over the other side. It was filled with one suticase, only 1 case, 2 duffel bags, and a backpack to go...and then there was the issue of the shoes. Where the fuck would my shoes go? Panic washed over me again as I sat surrounded by boots, this was a mistake...
We gave up for the day, promising to finish later this week, we took advantage of the pluses of living with a significant other....lots and lots of sex. And as if that wasn't good enough, my joyful boyfriend has calmed my nerves by going down on me multiple times this week. If I knew moving in was all it took to get a little downtown action, I would have done this weeks ago!
Things have settled, we have found some sort of path in the obsticle course of my belongings. He is thrilled and I am used to the idea of coming home to him everyday. It has been one week and we are both still alive, neither has been smoothered by a pillow during the middle of the night, a big success in my opinion.
And after a week, I have realized the perks. I wake up to a very hot man, a man who has done my laundry twice, brought me coffee every morning, and hasn't let me starve to death. Yes we are always surrounded by a brother or a cousin but I adore them so I don't mind, in fact it takes some of the pressure of being a happily co-habitating couple off the table.
So until next week, we are the scuffle-free, affectionate, playful, co-habitating couple managing not to kill each other in a very crowded flat in dumpy East London. Not exactly the fairytale I imagined for this week but I'll take it....
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