Anywho, point is, T. has inspired me to try this blog thing out for the millionth time, but with the new aspiration of hopefully improving my writing to a more professional, and publishable, level.  That’s right.  I’m racing towards that “Published Fantasy Author” dream.  Which is seeming to be more plausible than my “Published Academic” dream.  Then again, I think having the freedom of limitless pages might make for a different writing atmosphere than being contrained to five pages.  Writing a paper for class just makes me feel so stressed out, feeling like I have to constantly impress my professor with eloquent sentence contructions and  bottomless vocabulary.  Good writers write in their voices, and I feel as if mine is choked off when coralled into an academic paper.  Maybe I’ll loosen up in grad school (knock on wood).

But, right, that’s my justification.  We’ll see about motivation later.

Now I have to write 3,000 words on how the Hindus politicized the caste system (thus making it a tool of dissent against Protestant missionaries in the 19th century) by 1:00 tomorrow afternoon. Isn’t it good to know that some things don’t change?

Well, our Ireland experience began as soon as we entered the plane: a rather jolly and utterly drunk Irishman named Paddy (yes, I know, too good to be true) was seated directly across the aisle from Emily, Tisha, and me. He kept us thoroughly entertained throughout our 45 minute flight with his lovely rendition of “Danny Boy”. He might have taken some liberties with the lyrics- I doubt that the original had as many incoherent slurrings or drenching spittle showers as Paddy’s serenade. Then again, I don’t know much of “Danny Boy” beyond “The pipes, the pipes are caaa-aaaa-lliiing”, so who knows on that count…

But in light of recent events, I’ve decided to theme this post:

ILLY’S TOP THREE EMBARRASSING STUDY ABROAD MOMENTS THUS FAR!

1) We decided to walk about Dublin and explore it on our own the first full day we were there.  It turned out that Trinity College is directly across the bridge from our hostel, and when we arrived on campus, we were thrilled to find that Trinity College is the modern home of the Book of Kells.  We were not, however, thrilled at having to pay 7 euros to see said book.  The line was long, and the ticket seller distracted, so we decided to let ourselves into the exhibit without bothering the poor, overworked student at the ticketing desk.  Yes, we entered the exhibit without paying, but not before I stupidly exclaim, “We can’t just walk in without paying! Hayley, you’re walking in without paying!”

2) Our last night in Scotland, we decided to have late night tea and cake at this tea house which is apparently mentioned in James Joyce’s Dubliners and was one of the tea houses he frequented when in Dublin.  Anywho, our waiter was…um…well…hot, so we dedicated a large portion of our time at the tea house trying to snap a candid photo of him.  The photo was eventually obtained.  We’re passing the camera around to admire the picture during our turn; it’s my turn to pass it off to Eddie, but instead, I hold it out in front of him when the hot waiter comes up behind Eddie to serve the tea.  I’m not sure if the waiter saw the picture of himself, but… The others are still laughing about it.

3) OK, to be fair, this last embarrassing moment happened tonight here in Edinburgh.  Still… Every Tuesday, at our favorite pub Steamie, is Trivia Night, a cooler and more hi-tech form of Quiz-o.  We did pretty well, coming in at fourth place, and also making it into the Jackpot round where we stood to win a hundred pounds.  The only thing standing in our way of that glorious booze cash was a dog, a greyhound to be specific.  Basically, they play a video of a prerecorded greyhound race, and you have to guess the winning dog.  Everyone chose #7, and Danny calls out the number to the bartender.  I shouted out, “NO!”

“What!?!? Why?!?!”

“Come on, guys, everyone always chooses number seven since it’s supposed to be lucky, and it never works. Let’s choose another one.”

“OK, fine, let’s go with number six”

Yeah…

Guess which dog came in first.

….

Yep. Way to go, you.

Threats of severed dog heads in my bed have been made.

Ralph is the friend of Gina’s older brother Neil, both of whom came down to Edinburgh to celebrate Gina’s 18th birthday about two weeks ago.  Ralph has been lingering around since then, mainly due to his burgeoning friendship with Hayley, but I’ve managed to reap some benefits from the situation.  Namely getting to hear about how he was hungover at a business presentation with J.K. Rowling, during which she apparently whips out her breast and starts to breast feed her then newborn.  How frickin’ sweet is that!  I’m likethis with J.K.’s boobie.  (Yes, the lack of spacing between “like” and “this” was intentional…)

Also, there’s a rumor going about the campus that Rupert Grint/Ron Weasley is a freshman here.  All evidence, and by evidence I mean questionable articles found during a Google search, points to the contrary, but I won’t let that dash my hopes of encountering a drunk Rupert Grint one Saturday night.  Yes, of course I want to see him when drunk.  I wonder if he’ll try to cast a spell before toppling into a gutter.  “Accio hoochie!  Engorgio penis!”  I heard Emma Watson came one weekend to visit her friends, and it was the talk of the campus even weeks after, so I think there would be more of a buzz if Rupert really is a full-time student here.  Ah well, we’ll see.

Last night, I saw “The Importance of Being Earnest” at King’s Theatre, and it was a great show.  I’d write more about it if I weren’t falling asleep on myself.  More tomorrow then.

Right, enough of that, now it’s time to get into the meat and potatoes of my life here in Edinburgh.

First up, I suppose, should be classes. To put it simply, I love them all. The Making of Christian Orthodoxy is my first class of the week, and it basically covers what I might want to spend the rest of my life studying: the first four ecumenical councils (which are the big ones that established basic Christian doctrine). We spent the first class talking about Arius and his unfairly splattered reputation as the black cape and top hat wearing, mustache-twirling arch-heretic of the early church, a conversation which ended on this delightful note:

“Arius actually had a rather ignominious death: he was found slouched over dead, perched upon a privy. Some scholars believe he was poisoned by the minions of Athanasius, and to be quite honest, I’ve grown to support that theory as well. Then again, I may just be growing cynical in my old age.” -Prof. Sara Parvis

Thursday finds me sitting in rapt attention before Dr. Koepping who teaches Christianity in Asia. I wasn’t exactly thrilled about this class when I first registered for it, but now it’s quite possibly my favorite course of the three. It might just be Dr. Koepping’s teaching style and intensity- her passion for the subject kind of brings to mind a premonition of what sort of professor you’ll be, Abbey.

And then there’s Crowns and Concubines which totally plays into my whole Egyptology fetish.  Also makes me realize how sad it is that the Swarthmore Classics department doesn’t really offer any courses on Ancient Egypt or the Ancient Near East.  Ah well, at least I get to experience the wonders of reading Ancient Egyptian hieroglyphic erotica.

I’ve finally figured out how to work the coins here.  My proudest moment thus far: Being able to give the bartender exact change without having to shove a fistful of assorted coins into his face or spending fifteen minutes sifting through them to find the right ones.

This might only mean something to Deal, if she’s still checking this blog, but I had a pint with my friend Kestrel whom I haven’t spoken to since high school graduation, and it was a great time, almost as if we had never that minor lapse in communication.  And in the middle of our conversation, Matt, one of my housemates, came over to say hi, and he brought two of his friends along, making our little table a party of five (hahaha…ha… does anyone even remember that show still?).   That night made me realize that I do kind of have a skewed image of myself as this awkward, friendless misanthrope.  I clearly have made friends, and I’m even more obviously good at holding up my end of the conversation, so why do I have such difficulties at Swat? Sheesh… I’m just not going back.  I must admit though that Eddie was right when he said that he felt like a freshman all over again.  At times it does get to feel a bit lonely since the campus is so huge and the layout of my house isn’t conducive towards an excellent hall life, but then dinner comes around and everyone is in the kitchen cooking their dinner and making plans with each other, and it all feels fine.

Speaking of awkwardness…. just a warning, Abbey, if you do decide to come and visit… there’s this kid here who shall remain nameless due to my internet paranoia and is the creepiest motherfucker I have ever met. EVER.  I tried to be nice to him in the beginning, thinking he was just shy and needed someone a bit more extroverted to rev him up a bit.  BUT NO!  He’s just creepy and awkward, and while I’m hesitant to blame his creeptitude on his having been home schooled since I know some socially well adjusted home schoolers, well…  I’m not going to go into detail in this blog because writing about him just won’t do him justice… Obviously my way of saying you should all visit me or meet up somewhere so that I may regale you with the horrid tale of HIM.

LIKE HOW I’M JUST NOW COMING DOWN FROM MY RUGBY WORLD CUP 2007 HIGH!

Scotland vs. Romania, and Romania ran home crying to their mothers about how big, bad Scotland tore their hot pants.  No, seriously, Romania played in these ridiculously tight shorts.  It was quite laughable/strangely arousing.  Nothing like the firm butt of a beefy rugby player.  Yeah, so basically, Tish, Mathieu, Emily, Lauren, Hayley, and I managed to score 9 pound tickets to tonight’s Rugby World Cup match, and they were phenomenal seats: seven rows from the field.  The game itself, though a tad bit one-sided, had me screaming and jeering the entire time, especially with the multitude of fumbles on Scotland’s part (yeah, I’m talking about you, number 14).  The highlight of the match was most definitely at the very end when some drunk teenager decided to streak across the field.  It added that extra something the night was lacking.

Let’s see, other than that, life has been pretty mundane.  I joined a yoga class and will probably join the Scottish Country dance society also.  I’m working on trying to get tickets to a short run of The Importance of Being Earnest.  I joined this society called Standing Ovation, and their members are supposed to receive discounts to shows, so we’ll see if some Oscar Wilde action will fit into my budget.

Eddie made a good point today: it feels as if we’re starting college over.  Just when I was beginning to lose my awkward charm at Swarthmore, I now find myself into a totally new and drastically different environment, and it feels like someone hit the reset button on my life.  I’m not just talking about having to relearn how to make new friends; I’m also talking about the basic necessities of life, such as coins.  I cannot for the life of me figure out the coins over here.  And the fact that they have such random denominations doesn’t help AT ALL!  Two pence?  Twenty pence?  What the fuck!?!

And don’t get me started on the floors. Ground floor, and then first, second, third floor?  I can’t tell you how hopelessly lost I’ve been when trying to find an office or someone’s room because their third floor is our fourth floor.

Despite everything being slightly topsy-turvy, I’m really beginning to love it here.  I love walking down the streets because if you block out the ground floors with their hip, indie pubs and Pizza Huts and double decker buses, I feel as if I’m walking through Georgian/Regency era Edinburgh, and it’s an amazing feeling.

1) I have met some extremely nice people among them: the Americans-Hayley from Muhlenberg, Stefi from USC, Emily from Northeastern, Mike from Stetson; an Australian- Tish from Sydney; a young Polish gent- Radic; a Frenchman- Mat (I’m not going to attempt to spell his name); and the UK-ers- Gina, Rosie, Danny, Gary, Morgan, Diana, Allie, Matthew, Elsapeth.

2) I have a pay-as-you-go phone which was surprisingly cheap, so for those of you in Europe (and Minneapolis, if you want to shell out the money, Sasha), my new cell number is available on Facebook.

3) Eddie’s birthday was on the twelth, and to celebrate, we took him to a pub and bought him four shots which he bravely downed without complaint. No worries, I have it all on video, so it will be posted soon enough.

4) I went to a ceilidh, or an actual Scottish dance, where I danced with a tall, young Scotsman who happened to be wearing a lovely KILT! Eeek! We were doing this dance that, towards the end of the 32 bar count, calls for the first couple to progress down between the two columns of dancers in whichever manner they chose. When it came to our turn, kilted Scotsman told me to jump. Me: “JUMP?!?!” Him: “Yeah, go for it!” Me: “OK….*jump*” And so he carried me down and twirled me about at the end. I’m not sure if that was the jump he had in mind, but he called me a “good sport” at the end of it, so I guess all was well. Again, no worries if you have no clue as to what I just typed out, Hayley captured it all on video, so that will also be posted soon.

5) I don’t think I’ve gone a night without having at least one beer in my system.

6) I visited The Elephant House, where J.K. wrote Harry Potter, and the former homes of Sir Walter Scott and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

7) The International Student Centre offers free trips around Scotland, and next Saturday, I will be off to lovely Glasgow!

8) I’m cooking for myself (like actual cooking, not microwavable t.v. dinners), and I have so far yet to blow up the kitchen or serve myself undercooked and contaminated chicken. I’ll be returning to the States an Iron Chef, my friends. Fo’ shizzle.

9) This has nothing to do with Scotland, but Emily, Tish, Stefi, Gina, and I saw Atonement last night, and it made me sob. Any movie that makes me cry automatically goes on my Most Hated list, but I actually thought this was pretty good. Granted, the parts with Robbie wandering through Southern France were a bit dull, but the more dramatic scenes definitely more than compensated for that minor problem in the editing department.

More later!

• Arrived safely.
• Went to two pubs the first night with our loved Eddie and a new girl named Halie (spelling may be wrong)
• Explored a bit more today
• No internet access in room
• Group currently in the pub Steamie’s and mooching off of theirs

I’m not in love with it yet, but I can feel it growing on me, like in my bones- it’s either that or this fucking wind.

The block in the Bronx where my cousins live.

My emo-licious little sister.

Some grilling going on.

My abuelita.

My cousin Junior, my mom, my cousin Massiel, and me

The same four as in the previous shot but with the inclusion of my uncle Carlos

The birthday girl and cake.

That is all!

Anywho, here’s the promised post…

There’s actually not much to report back.  The secretaries at the lawfirm held a surprise going-away party for me.  It was cute: John Brain, one of my co-workers and a Haverford alum, swung by my cubicle, and we started some basic chit-chat.  I noticed from the corner of my eye Melissa kind of creeping up behind him followed by a steady trickle of people in my department and others that I happened to meet who also worked on the 45th floor.  Then there’s me wondering why everyone I know at the firm has decided to say good-bye at exactly the same time.  I was clueless up until the moment Darlene came to my desk with a homemade German chocolate cake.

“Wait…what…but it’s not my birthday!  Oh…wait…today’s my last day! Oh-oh-oh, YAY!”

And we all had a good laugh, ate cake, talked about our many escapades in foreign travel, and…uh…birthdays, with the last subject producing the Quote of the Day:

“Yeah, I turned 21 last month.  I’ve been 21 for the past ten years.  I’m actually getting pretty good at being 21.” -Jarrod, the hot attorney from New Zealand

Let’s see…later that night, I went to go see “Superbad” with Irene, and fell in love with Michael Cera who played Evan in the film.  Oh, and the movie was pretty good too.

Right, you can totally tell that I put a lot of effort and thought into this post….

But just when you’re about to enter another address into the broswer, BAM, I hit you with

HOW TO TELL IF YOU’RE HISPANIC

Inspired by my cousin Massiel’s 18th birthday party last night

*Ahem*

1) Your name is actually a noun. Many immigrant Hispanic parents, in an attempt to show fealty to their new home, will give their kids what they consider to be patriotic names: America, Liberty, Justice (pronouced “Hoo-stees), etc.  You also have your religious names: Concepcion (Conception in reference to the Immaculate one), Parablo (Parable), etc.  My cousin Gio’s boyfriend’s name wins it all though: Apostle (pronounced as phonetically as possible).  Now, that’s pretty goddamn Hispanic.

2) No room in the house or backyard for a party of 70 people?  Do it en la calle!  Only Hispanics are menacing enough to stop cars in their tracks and thrust them into reverse with our mere presence.  And that’s without the driver’s handling the controls.

3) Every carbonated beverage is called “Coke”. I mention this all the time, but, you guys, I’m not kidding. 

“Ileana, quieres Coke o Pepsi Coke?” 
“Uh…I’ll take Coke….and Abuela wants to know if you have Coke Clara.” 
“Tell her no, but we have Coke de Naranja (Orange Coke).”

b) When orating a list, we can’t keep numbers and letters straight.  I think that’s pretty straight forward.

OK, I’m bored with this already. *sigh* I’m going to go see if we have any tres leches cake leftover from the party…