Let the Rain Come Down

Sitting in an internet cafe, in the 5º arrondissement -- right near the Latin Quarter -- in Paris. It is raining outside, which doesn't make walking around the city particularly convenient. But hell. It's effin Paris.

I'm paying for this session, so I won't be able to update too much, and unfortunately, pictures are not possible. Later, though.

We arrived in Paris on Sunday afternoon, and basically have been walking around, metro-ing it around the city since then, forced early on to carry insanely heavy bags, which caused a certain Stacy to get very very grumpy. We're staying in a youth hostel in a very artsy area, with a bunch of other international travelers -- our roommates, so far, have been all boys, one from Chile, another from Israel, and two from the States. There will be more, I'm sure, throughout the next few days.

We have walked along the Seine, seen the Notre Dame cathedral (just from the outside -- amazing!), and walked around the gardens in front of le Louvre museum. The strangest thing, thus far, was seeing the Eiffel Tower -- from very far away. I didn't even see all of it, just the top portion, and I couldn't stop staring at it because it didn't seem real! Literally, it seems as though it's been super-imposed, like in a movie. Surreal.

Jessie and I got a little treat last night while having dinner. We were in search of the cheapest place, and succeeded -- considering we had to find a sit-down place due to the rain -- and ended up eating next to a very American couple visiting from Hawai'i for the Paris air show. We chatted, and talked about Paris and current events and our families and all this great stuff, and at the end of the meal, they insisted on paying for us. We argued, but they insisted, so we gave in. It was incredibly, incredibly nice. We bought ourselves a pint because it put us in such a good mood -- not that you need to be in a good mood to warrent buying a pint of beer. Anyways. They were nice. I want to be like them, travel, and buy food for students when I am older. =)

Once I have proper internet access and the capability to post pictures (unfortunately, probably not until I get up to Cambridge on Saturday), there will be several posts simultaneously, all about Paris and the French and Jessie and my travels around this crazy romantic city. Yes. By default, Jessie is now my lover. C'est Paris.

I hope everyone is doing well, and I am going to do my best to try and make a few phone calls (Mom and Dad and Kim) sometime today -- you might be getting called during the wee hours of the morning, since I'll have to call when it is most convenient for me, aka. when I am near a pay phone.

I'm peacing. Ciao.

For tonight.

I wrote an entry in my head while at the bar tonight.

I cannot remember it.

I will it into being here.

I needed this... some of you know, it's long past due.

Les jours dans Toulouse: Alsace Lorraine et la Fête de la Musique

I should probably have started on all of this several days ago. But I just wasn't really in a state to make coherent or interesting posts. I can't promise this will be interesting, but it will at least be coherent. I think.

(Also, I know I promised Kim that I would post separate entries for different things, but... well... there just isn't time. Hopefully I will be better at tracking individual events when I am actually in Cambridge studying. Until then, you might just end up with a big post for Toulouse and a big post for Paris. So be it.)

I've been in Toulouse, France now for five days. Basically, I have slept, drank, eaten and walked around, not particularly in that order, for the full five days. Tonight is my last night before heading up, by train, to Paris for five more days. That is a whole lot of Frenchie-French.

While being here, I've been extremely lucky. Jessie, since her apartment is no longer under her name, has been staying in the very spacious apartment of several of her friends from the program, which they all call Alsace Lorraine -- the name of the street. Dana and Sammy were the only two left (though their roommate Lauren came back two days ago), and then Dana's boyfriend Olivier (he's French, doesn't really speak English), Kailey, Jessie and myself were additions to the apartment. Everyone is so chill, very inclusive, and crazy-ass partiers! =) Justin and Eli -- both guys from UCSB, who are actually living across the street from me next year -- are constant guests at les chateaux. I wish I could post pictures of EVERYONE, but you'll just have to live with the few I can fit here.

(1) (2) (3)

(4) (5) (6)

1. Amanda, Jessie, Dana, Sammy -- 2. Sammy and Eli playing "Asshole" at Alsace Lorraine -- 3. Jessie, Elodie, Dana -- 4. Jessie and Kailey at the laundromat -- 5. Jessie, Kailey, me, Beck during la Fête -- 6. me and Jessie during my first tequila shot

There are more, somewhere. Variations of these. Jessie has some. I have some. Other people have some. Getting a chance to live in Toulouse for five days has been remarkable. Particularly since it's with a group of people who not only speak the language (Kailey is completely fluent), but they have been living in this area for almost 1 year -- they had great suggestions for bars and restaurants.

The #1 favorite thing for everyone to do -- besides drink and eat and sleep -- is play a card game called "Asshole." Finally, after four full days, I finally got up the nerve to play, and actually did alright. Well, "alright" meaning I wasn't the Asshole, but rather, um... Switzerland. Neutral. Maybe I'll be able to remember all the rules and I'll bring it back to the States. Or rather, Jessie and all her friends will, since so many of them go to UCSB.

I just adore everyone here.

Now on to the city itself. TOULOUSE. This city is unbelievably beautiful. The buildings all have this rustic quality -- reminds me of Avaryl's house in the Malibu hills: older, with character, and still stunning.

The first floor of every building on the smaller roads is full of cafés and little shops, while the floors above are all apartments -- some HUGE, others really small.

There are several larger boulevards, with stops lights and buses and tons of pedestrians, but mainly there are narrower, brick-laid alleyways -- technically, still streets -- that maze through the city. Above (left) is an example of une place, the central area of where buildings and streets meet. Jessie's place (not above) was one place we hung out a lot, eating sandwiches from Nat's (which I mentioned two posts ago had the best sandwiches ever), people watching and listening to people play music.

Here is one guy who was set up early in the morning on Thursday for a big event in France called La Fête de la Musique (Celebration of Music) -- he was pretty rockin' awesome with his saxophone. (This is in Jessie's place.) Just ignore the fact that Jessie is distracted by her Nat's sandwich and Kailey is enraptured with... the musician, I guess.

Speaking of la Fête, that was the first night that I had un kebab. This is not like the kebabs at home, like shish kebabs on a stick -- they're like sandwiches, kind of, between naan bread with sauces and tomatoes and lettuce. O. M. G. Probably the second greatest moment of putting food in my mouth ever! Don't we look like we're enjoying our kebabs?!?! It should, because they were so good that 15 minutes later, we both got another one to share. Jessie says they're the equivalent of Freebird's here in Toulouse -- it's the only think you can get at 2am and they're easy to take out On the Go.

Oh, and they're De. Lic. Ious.

Another event of la Fête (Nick B. and Liz, this is for you), was that I was so close to my first hook-up abroad. Ok: my first hook-up ever. His name was Charles, and he was from Paris, and I met him at a bar called Café Populaire -- he was really cute, with blond curly hair. It was really really loud in the bar, since there was a band playing, but he was kind enough to speak slowly, in what English he knew, so I could hear him. He told me about how he studied in the States at Columbia in New York (after I told him I lived in California), and also that he'd heard people in San Francisco "was very nice." I assured him that, "Yes, San Francisco is one of the nicest, most open cities," and he seemed excited about going there one day.

I think he wanted to tell me I was beautiful, because he asked me if I'd ever heard of the word "dishy," which he assured me (with great confidence) that it was an English word. I told him that to call someone a "dish" was an old-fashioned way of saying that someone was very beautiful, but he told me that was wrong and that is was "dishy," used "when Shakespeare wrote." I let it go, and told him he was right, and it was very interesting to learn that and he seemed particularly excited when he said "You know English better than me, but I just taught you new English word." Yes. Whatever. You're hot.

Eventually Jessie came and said our friends were leaving, so I had to depart because I have no way of communicating with anyone, nor do I know how to get home. And he wanted to stay with his friends, despite Jessie's helpful pleas to get him to come with us.

Oh well. It was a confidence booster, and that's what's important. When I'm in Ireland, and people speak English, a legitimate hook-up seems possible. =)

Yeah. No picture of Charles (or, he says, "Charlie"... I know...), sorry.

(Here is a picture of the rooftops outside the Alsace Lorraine kitchen windows. Very very rustic.)

While nothing enormous happened while being in Toulouse, the simple fact that I didn't update every night means that it was continuously eventful and exciting and fun. Everyone has been very kind and patient and inclusive with me. It has been AMAZING to be here and get off of my jet-lag and prepare myself for traveling and taking care of myself. I'll need to do a little better with money while in the UK, but luckily I already have a fair share of pounds in my wallet, so it'll last me for a few days.

I've already eaten too much. As well as drank too much. And spent far too much money, considering I haven't bought anything for myself except for train tickets, plane tickets, hostel reservations and, oh yeah, food and alcohol. It's just a sacrifice, I guess, that I'm willing to work off during the school year next year.

Thank you all for reading. I may have left things out. If I did and there is another Toulouse-related story to tell, I'll add it to the bottom of this post in bold lettering.

Much love. Best wishes to everyone. Not sure when I can update again, but pictures will be plentiful while I'm in Paris. Jessie and I are heading up tomorrow morning, and Kailey is meeting us up there on Monday. I'll be there until Friday morning.

Peace.

An Open Letter to Air India

This letter is long, long overdue.

I would like to thank you, Air India, for probably the most horrendous travel experience of my life. It's taken me several days of relaxation, good food and drinking in France to work off the shock of such painful service, and a night full of beastly, bad-mannered people.

When you sell a window seat to a person, it is customary to allow that person to actually sit in that seat. It was not very comforting to arrive at my seat and find two, small, Hindi-speaking children sprawled out over the three seats we were meant to share. It was even less comforting to discover that not only did these children not understand English, and clearly were not happy at my arrival, but that their aunt was a stewardess on the flight. Being the nice and patient person that I am, I was kind enough to let the little boy stay in my window seat while I tried to make myself comfortable on the aisle seat, which just happened to be across from two more small and poorly behaved children, whose parents were more than happy to let their daughter continually kick the seat in front of her with the full force of her tiny, 4-year-old body.

It took one hour for your stupid plane to take off. For that hour, I thought I would kill myself or the devil-children next to me. Not only were they loud and constantly eating Doritos to the point where the smell of artificial nacho cheese flavoring actually melded to the inside of my nostrils, they had NO sense of personal space. Their tray tables were down, their feet were on top of them, their arms flying about, hitting me in the leg, the stomach and the face.

Luckily, the little girl got what was coming to her when she spilled Diet Coke all over herself, only to look up at me as though there was something I could do to help her (or perhaps that I had silently willed it on her, which, of course, I had).

After one hour in the air, there was nothing more I could do: either kill the children (which would have pleased the busty, black, New York woman in front of us whose seat was continually being kicked and was not afraid to turn around and yell at the little boy to stop, despite the fact he never listened), or feign illness. I figured the latter was the better of the two choices, seeing as it's far too early in my travels to resort to killing children, not that they didn't deserve it.

So I did. Their stupid aunt stewardess was actually kind enough to try and find me an open seat when I told her that I was feeling ill and dizzy and "If it wouldn't be too much trouble, I'd really like to have somewhere to lie down." She departed and returned to tell me that two seats were open near the front of the plane and I could move immediately.

And I did. My night looked brighter, and your airline wasn't seeming so bad. Then I arrived at my seat.

Seated on the far end of the center four seats was an old woman. This woman must have been 95 years old, Air India. I decided I didn't care, and sat down -- she was three seats away, with her bag on the seat next to her. I had two seats to myself and I curled up to try and sleep.

Then it happened. I didn't think it was possible. But it did. After about 5 minutes of my being there, she took two pillows and placed them on my feet. That's right. ON my feet, then proceeded to lie down, on her back, her head resting on the pillows. I moved my feet, and there she continued to lie: on all three available seats, her head pushing against the side of my thigh.

I was certain I was on candid camera. What other explanation could there have been?

From now on I am requesting that all passengers take mandatory Good Manners tests in order to be allowed in such close quarters with other people for more than a 6 hour interval.

I decided, "Fine. Whatever. She's old. She thinks she should be respected, and though my sense of logic doesn't allow me to respect anyone that doesn't earn it, I will just let it go and just be happy that children are no longer kicking me." From then on, the old bat continued to wake up and go back to sleep in much the same fashion -- at least 7 more times, each time trying harder and harder to push me into the aisle and off the seat so that she could have all four seats to herself.

The selfish bitch.

One more request, Air India: There needs to be a mandatory Lights Out time period. It was interesting when all of the lights in couch were turned off, except, interestingly enough, the light of the crazy old bitch next to me. Even when she was sleeping, she demanded that it be kept on. And, oh yeah: It was the light pointing to the seat right next to me, ergo: In my face. All night.

All I can think is how terrified I am to fly with you on my way back home to the States. Considering what I went through -- 5 and a half hours of grueling child and old lady poor excuses for manners, with terrible food, leg room that meant my legs could not cross at all, and movies that cut out, were static-y and never even finished -- I am hoping to find a way into First Class for my return trip, which I see now was really your intention all this time! Upgrade. Whatever, I don't care. Money be damned, I'm not getting stuck in your couch again. Otherwise: You'll have dead children and old people on your hands.

Think about it.

Still suffering from a crick in my neck,
Stacy

You know what he did?

For your viewing and internet surfing pleasure.

He's changed my life.

Salut!!

Salut, from Toulouse! It is 2:26am here, which means it is 5:26pm on the west coast US. Hopefully you are all enjoying your dinners... I wish I could eat something right now. If Isla Vista has anything on Toulouse, it's that it has food places open at all hours so that you can eat something when you're drunk.

I am drunk. Kind of. Tispy, rather. Not like last night, which was constant drinking, mainly funded by myself. (For Jessie, not everyone -- I'm not crazy!)

Tonight was slower; my kind of night. (Kait, you'd have loved it! An Irish pub, with a really cool bartender -- we made Jessie have her first Irish carbomb. She loved it, which means you two will get along.) Jessie is passed out in the bed, snoring away. It was a good night.

Alright, so, FIRST UPDATE FROM EUROPE! Where to begin?

I don't know where to start. Basically, I will just say that I love it here, minus the fact that I can't speak to anyone and I'm constantly questioning how to communicate. I understand some -- more than I thought I would -- but I am still struggling. The only time I'm not self-conscious about is when I'm drunk. What can ya do?

Seeing Jessie has been AMAZING! It's weird to think it's been over 10 months. Normally I wouldn't go a single day without seeing my Jessie. Surprisingly, being with her feel strangely normal -- not like we've been apart at all. It almost felt weird greeting her with gusto, because something inside me said, "But you just saw her yesterday, you over-zealous idiot!"

Yesterday was Jessie's birthday, and we started celebrating the night I first got here. Many drinks, LOTS of cigarette smoke, and misspoken French by myself were the orders of the evening. Whatever. Who needs proper grammar?

Ok. I should go.

I know I haven't said much, but it's late, I have to pee, I wanna sleep so that when I wake up I can have coffee and a croissant -- or maybe it'll be noon and I'll just have to have a sandwich. (Best sandwich place ever, here.)

More pictures and fantastic details and happenings in Toulouse to come tomorrow -- we're taking it easy and sitting around all day: my kind of schedule.

Love you all. Peace.

To Emote

New York City weather people are not very reliable. Instead of thunderstorms all day, we were blessed with a very clear and very warm day. Rain and clouds, well, they came later. But we made it inside for a nap just in time.

This morning we made a very pleasant subway trek down to the East Village, to meet Nick for brunch. Though the sun was a little too warm (I have stupid, sensitive California heat/cold tolerance), it couldn't have been more beautiful, and was only made more so by the fact that we were out of Times Square. The place -- I can't remember the name, and that's no good (Nick, help me!) -- was Brazilian food, and we ate out on the patio: yummy food accompanied by delicious coffee and a mimosa.

Afterwards, the three of us headed Uptown to the Museum of Modern Art. My mom and I were thrilled to have Nick -- the graduated art student -- there to inform our art-stupid brains what was what. As I said yesterday, I'm an expressionist type of gal, though I feel bad putting a label on something that's so rooted in emotion. Cheesy maybe, but I feel the same way about music.First, there were two new exhibits: Richard Serra (the sculpter) and Dan Perjovschi (a Romanian artist) -- two of the most entertaining aspects of the day. Here is one angle of one of Serra's sculptures, located out in the Garden:

There were many more, none of which I could take pictures of. But these are enormous steel sculptures, standing up with NO support -- just perfect and precise engineering design. Really trippy walking through them; the angles and the textures of the steel were incredible. Nick was very excited; it was the exhibit he wanted to see the most, so it worked out well that we were planning on going to the MoMA anyway.

Dan Perjovschi is an artist who drew cartoon-like drawings all over the wall of the 2nd floor. It is all commentary on current events. I took some pictures, but then I found these videos, and they show many many more of the drawings then I took pictures of. So enjoy!

(See the second installation of the video here!)

Okay, instead of talking at you, I'll just post pictures and names of the pieces that stood out to me the most.

Jackson Pollock's "Echo: Number 25"

Claude Monet's "The Japanese Footbridge"

Carlo Carrà's "Funeral of the Anarchist Galli"

Piet Mondrian's "Compositions in Brown and Gray"

Umberto Boccioni's "States of Mind II: Those Who Go"

These are my types of paintings. Beautiful. My mom really enjoyed the Pollock pieces, though, as she puts it, "They are contrary to my personality." There were about a hundred that I found sensational, but these are the ones I took the effort to write down, plus a couple others I didn't include here. I will say that even though I don't have any personal connection or love for Monet, seeing a room full of his work makes me feel incredibly star-struck. I mean, their the paintings.Speaking of the painting, I was surprised when I approached a crowd of people only to turn and see that they were staring at none other than Van Gogh's "Starry Night." Star-struck, for real. I'm sure I'll react the same way when I see the "Mona Lisa" and "The David." Artwork is cool when it's that frickin' famous. I'm not going to include the picture here, because if you don't know what painting I'm refering to, I can't help you. Seeing it was crazy, and as much as I love the painting, I've never had any emotional attachment to it. Seeing it was rad, though.

HOWEVER, I did get teary-eyed (and probably would have cried were I alone) when I saw these:

Wasily Kandinsky's "Four Panel's for Edwin K. Campbell" (pictured are only three of them). Kandinsky is my favorite artist. I have books and books on him, and for 5 consecutive years, his work was the subject of my calenders. If you don't know him and these works strike you, check out his stuff. The colors, the shapes, the lines, the details, the subtle images... Brilliance.

I'm going to avoid talking about all the architecture and design stuff. That is territory I could embarrass myself in. Though, there was this rockin' awesome lamp by Louis C. Tiffany. I want it.
A big thanks to Nick for his patience with us today -- I know it must be frustrating talking to idiots trying to talk about art. You were a great guide! =)

In non-art-related happenings, there is food! Can FINALLY cross #9 off my check-list of GQ's 20 Best Burgers in America -- the cheeseburger from Burger Joint, nestled in the Le Parker Meridian Hotel, Manhattan. Honestly, not that great. I'd give it about 6 out of 10 stars. If you want a hard-core burger, check out #11 on the list. Best. Burger. Ever.
Ok. I know I am overloading my blog with pictures and descriptions, but it probably won't be like this again for a long while. I don't know what my internet situation will be like in France -- hopefully I'll get into an internet café at one point. Having free wireless in my hotel room as spoiled me.

I'll be keeping notes on interesting events and such. There won't be as much touristy stuff, I feel, while in Toulouse, so hopefully there will be pictures of me doing something worthwhile, and not just pictures of artwork and buildings. Let's hope.

Alright. I'm getting tired. Art is exhausting, and after so many paintings and miles trampled, my brain and muscles hate me. Off to bed. 15 hours of airport/airplane fun ahead of me tomorrow. Yay.

"He told me he liked Turner..."

I hate children. Especially when said children inhibit my enjoyment of things that cost me money. It's a good thing my mom and I decided to see the American Museum of Natural History first: last week of school trips galore, chock full of obnoxious kids of end-of-their-ropes parents and teachers. To quote Mike Birbigs, it's "pushed my having kids back about 35 years." 1 in every 50 kids was maybe cute enough to walk away without my scorn. It's hard to be positive and happy (my new goal in life) when so many devil-children are allowed into public buildings.

Bethesda Fountain. What can I say? She is one of my favorite places, and YES, much of the reason is because of how much I love Angels in America, and NO, I won't be talking about that play in every post. Most likely that was it. Whatever the reason, I am still terribly and geniunely in love with the place. And this time, the terrace was open.

Last time I was in New York (and the only other time I've been at Bethesda) was when 1) it was cold as fuck, and 2) the terrace was under construction. I about cried -- for some reason it meant a lot to me that I could walk through and see the fountain. This time all was well, and not only could I walk through the terrace, but the weather was UNSPEAKABLY GORGEOUS! With the temperature being a fantastic, California-esque 72°F, it felt perfect. Not having anywhere to be and getting to sit on the edge of Bethesda Fountain, in a gloriously green Central Park, looking out over the lake to the boat house made for an amazing morning. The park really is a relaxation oasis smack dab in the middle of utter, touristy chaos.



From 9am to 6:30pm, we walked. From 46th St. up to the middle of Central Park and all around -- Bethesda then across the park to the ANHM and then back across to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. That's almost 40 city blocks, not counting the amount of walking we did inside the museums. We saw probably about 85% of both museums, which is saying something: they're frickin' huge.

We saw a pretty cool exhibit at the ANHM about collisions in space, at the enormous new Space and Science Center. I always get choked up watching things about space; I have weird emotional reactions to infinity and the unknown. Plus: the Northern Lights make me sad for some reason, maybe because I want to see them so badly. Anyway, the museum was cool, but the Evil Kids kind of ruined it.

The Met was fantastic, though massive and crowded. The entire time, Rufus' song "The Art Teacher" kept running through my head, and even though I saw many, many John Singer Sargents, I did not see a Turner, to my dismay. Oh well.

When going to museums, my favorite things to look at are the sculptures -- I can't get over the tremendous skill it must take to carve marble busts and bodies! This one (left), of mythic hero Perseus with the head of Medusa, was one of my favorites. They actually let me take that picture, nice. There were some beautiful ones of children, though I didn't get pictures of them. One, "The Babes in the Woods" by Thomas Crawford was gorgeous, and so incredibly detailed -- two children eternally sleeping in the woods, being covered with leaves by birds. Really remarkable, if you ever get a chance to see it.

With paintings, I'm an expressionist painting kinda gal. Kandinsky, Picasso -- I want their babies. I'm all about a little chaos and intricacies and emotion and shapes and things not making a whole lot of sense, and aside from all the great Picasso and Dali and Pollock, even Warhol (yes, I know, not expressionist, yada yada), it was a painting by an American artist, John White Alexander, called "Study in Black and Green" that really stood out to me. I'm not sure why. Maybe because it seems so sensitive and vulnerable. I think it's amazing when paintings look so realistic, they could be photographs, but I prefer seeing the lines and strokes and how such simple movements can create such stunning images. I love her. I dunno. I just do. I have no reason or analysis, this is why I don't study art.

At the end of the day, cab drivers still scare and amuse me simultaneously. Honking always seems to be the right answer.

I need a drink. Luckily there are about 8 different Irish Pubs outside the hotel. Ciao.

PS. Apologies for my shotty picture-posting. Blogspot makes placing pictures difficult, to say the least.

On Bald Tires: HELLO Manhattan!

Warning: If you must wake me up at 4am, it better be with a cup of fresh coffee and a bagel in hand. I am not pleasant that early in the morning. Nor am I coherent. When your father turns the radio to an XM 1940's station and the announcer is detailing the Nazi's takeover of France and a swastika dangling from the Arc d'Triomphe and you think it's current news, chances are people shouldn't expect you to answer important questions.

Very gay male flight attendants who silently mouth the words to the we've-heard-it-a-million-times safety instructions that are being spoken by an off-stage female attendant, all while acting out the motions make the start of even the most arduous-seeming flights amusing. Thank you, Frank, the Gay Jet-Blue Flight Attendant Guy.

Jerry Seinfeld was absolutely right: It's amazing how safe you feel in the backseat of a New York City taxi cab. Despite everything in your body telling you to fear for your life, you can't do anything but laugh. "Well I'd never try that in my car... I mean he is driving fast, and quite recklessly. On bald tires. But he's a professional!" It's true. You can't help but think that. The car isn't destroyed yet, so he must know what he's doing.

I'm currently in New York City, the Comfort Inn, W 46th St. -- about twenty paces from Times Square. I love it here, but honestly: I'm tired of being around Times Square. There is TOO much. If ever there was too much of something in this world, it's Times Square... just... the entire thing. People, lights, food, vendors, cars, smells -- all of it! Too much. I want to hang out in the Village, in a cafe or a park, or somewhere where there aren't so many damn tourists.

Our room is the size of my bedroom in my apartment. That means it's very small. Kind of strange. That's New York, I guess. As is said in Angels in America, "New York City. All they got there is tiny rooms." Very true. I may have butchered that quote, but I'm lazy, so whatever.

Museums are the focus of the weekend, and hopefully some fantastic food -- we're gonna search for cheap stuff, which means vendors, Burger Joint and The Village cafes. FANtastic. I would try and see a show, but now I have a video of Spring Awakening on my computer, so... why pay?

Wow. That's horrible. What kind of theatre student am I?

Wish Me Luck As You Wave Me Goodbye

It seems only appropriate that I should begin my summer of travels by getting lost on the way home. Who gets lost driving up I5? I do, that's who. I wound up in Bakersfield, and no one wants to be in Bakersfield. If this is any sign of my navigational skills, I am worried for my well-being while combing through the streets of Paris and between airports all by my lonesome.

In case you haven't noticed, I have done very little updating. I've been in sort of a comatose state for the last 10 weeks, but now that it's over I am feeling compelled to start writing again.

This, from now on, until the end of the summer, will be devoted by my travels, my studies and extra exciting things. Hopefully this will be the best way of keeping everyone updated and informed. Pictures will be posted, as well, once I get them. If you're lucky (or rather, if I'm lucky) you'll get lots of little funny/crazy/embarrassing stories. *raises glass* Here's to hoping.

My intention is to update often, though it will really be contingent on my ability to get internet access. Until then, I will give you a run-down of how the next 11 weeks will be going for me.

New York City, with my mom, June 14th-17th
Toulouse, France, with Jessie, June 18th-24th
Paris, France, with Jessie, June 24th-29th
not entirely sure -- I'm a wanderer, June 29th-30th
Cambridge, England, for school, July 1st-August 27th

Weekends throughout my time at Cambridge will hopefully take me to places like Dublin, Edinburgh, London, Amsterdam, etc. The most exciting thing is the opportunity to spend a weekend in Scotland during the Fringe Festival -- the world's largest international theatre festival. Getting hotel rooms there, generally, is impossible, but Cambridge students already have spots reserved. That's my #1 goal: Getting on the sign-up list for that trip.

This will likely be my last update until I'm in NYC. This is the first time I'll be going over there and NOT seeing shows. We'll be exploring all of the amazing museums and I'll finally get to see my favorite place, Bethesda Fountain, in the summertime. Hopefully the bridge/tunnel leading to it won't be closed for construction this time. I'll be sure to take lots of pictures of it, again.

A very busy, academically challenging summer awaits me. Intensive courses in Creative Writing, Early/Modern British Theatre, and 1940's British Cinema and Identity, will ensure that I never have a boring moment.

Here is a picture to start off the travels: Me and my brilliantly constructed English-style fascinator, from Kait and Alex. It's so I would fit in at my aunt's niece's wedding in England, which I am no longer able to go to, but still -- now I won't be a total outcast at formal functions. I promise to wear this at least once.
I love you all. Wish me luck.