A Brave New World

Last month, I spent my first and only day in Eastern Europe. I was staying in Vienna at my friend Alexander's, and he and his friend Rheinhard accompanied me on the 1.5 hour bus ride to Bratislava (Slovakia's capitol). Wandering through the city centre, we were treated to the ravages of Communism: beautiful old buildings left to ruin through decades of neglect. We could tell they must once have been grand, for every five buildings or so there was one that had been restored to its former aristocratic splendour. But oh, the contrast between the derelict and the fixed-up.

Eventually I became frustrated with the attitudes of the Slovakians: just because you don't have any money doesn't mean you can't keep things up. Does it? It was baffling seeing the environs of the cathedral: painted, stuccoed buildings with teenage boys in cassocks in their gated entrances sharply contrasted with the shell of a building abutting the cathedral on the other side, its broken windows covered with the fading plywood paintings schoolchildren must have done to brighten it up. "Why doesn't the Church fix up this building?" I cried. But my Austrian friends had no answer.

We got answers of a sort in the rest of the town. Frenetic building was going on apace, with restorers, reconstructors, contractors all vying for making the most noise on a cloudy Saturday afternoon. The amount of work needed to fix up Bratislava--and no doubt all other cities in Eastern Europe--is staggering, but work is starting for the first time since the buildings were constructed. With the money coming in from new EU membership, no doubt the city will be transformed within the next five years.

With the shops closing at 1 p.m. on a Saturday(!), I was not surprised that so few people were about. Why would they be out and about with nothing to do? However, the closer we got to the cathedral, the more the near-empty streets were explained. They were all inside. Encouraged by the sight of multiple TV trucks that something important was going on, we passed by the throngs of teenages with namebadges on, taking the flyer they pressed on us. Half in Latin, half in Slovakian, we were at a loss, even after entering and being struck by the two enormous screens showing pictures of the Pope interspersed with flashes of the 9/11 destruction and other newsworthy events of the past years. A choir accompanied by a guitar was singing, and most of the people joined in after a time, although throngs of them milled around the back of the sanctuary where we stood.

My friend Alexander asked someone if they spoke German. No, they did not, but rushed off to find someone who did. A small teenage boy, perhaps 16 or 17, came over. "Sprechen zie Deutsche?" Alexander said, and the boy began to talk in German. Alexander began translating for me. "Wait," the boy said, "Do you speak English?" We all did, so he switched over to that, explaining that this huge celebration was because Slovakia was joining the EU in a month's time. "All of the new countries are celebrating," he said.


And they are. Why not? For the first time, they are linked with Britain, with Germany, with France, Belgium, Austria, Ireland, more than just because they're part of the European continent. The 10 new member states are ecstatic, by all accounts. Money will pour in, tourists will come, they will be able to practice the languages they study in school for years with people who actually speak English or German as their native tongue.

But the growing pains will be hard, more for Western Europe than their Eastern brethren. My Austrian friends are especially fearful, as they stretch the farthest into Eastern Europe, bordering Slovakia, the Czech Republic, Hungary and Slovenia. Will these people flood their cities, placing a burden upon the Austrian government and taxpayer? Currently, any member of the EU can go to school and work in other member countries. As the Austrians explained to me, there is a waiting period of several years on the work borders being opened, and another stretch before these new member countries will be able to use the Euro. But, as they pointed out, it is not a solution to the problems, only deferring a decision. The real test will come in several years' time.


As the country who harbours the most asylum-seekers of anywhere in Europe, along with one of the two English-speaking lands in Europe, the United Kingdom has been a promised land to many Eastern Europeans. Already there is tension with France, whom the Britons claim foist their illegal immigrants onto the British Isles. With its high standard of living, its free healthcare, and its language that dominates the world, Britain is a beacon that draws more than its fair share of poor, uneducated Eastern Europeans, hoping to make a better life.

I spoke online to one of my English friends a few days ago. He's travelled widely, has studied and lived in the U.S. and Australia, and can't wait to leave. He'd changed his MSN Messenger screenname to "can't wait to leave this confounded country...and soon!" When asked why, he replied, "Too many foreigners." I forsee Eastern Europeans becoming to Britain what many view the Mexicans are to the U.S. They see only the ones so poverty-stricken that fleeing to another country seems their only option. They can't speak the language, they send their money abroad to help their family at home.

Even the new EU members are worried. On NPR on the eve of the new countries joining, a Latvian official said that they are worried--that in two years' time the government suspects over 100,000 people will leave Latvia. Surely having that many people leave a country of 2 million can't be a good thing in the short term.


But nonetheless, seeing the hope and happiness in a cathedral full of Slovaks, I like to think that the EU will emerge from its expansion stronger, more coherent, and perhaps even enriched.

Theresa

Ruby Shoes Needed

I called the airline, wanting a ticket for the 31st.
"I hate to tell you this," the guy said, "But what with spring break and all, the earlier you can go the better. As a matter of fact, I can't get you anything on the 31st for less than a thousand pounds."

Uh, not acceptable.

So I purchased a ticket for NEXT WEDNESDAY the 24th--yes, a mere seven days away. I'm heading to Swansea tonight to see my old flatmates one more time. What a great excuse for not packing, eh?

To think, yesterday morning I was in the Alps.

Theresa

Choose My Own Adventure

In Vienna, returning to London on the 16th. A bit of travel around the country, followed by the plane ride home, hopefully with a stopover in Iceland. Why not, eh?

But then what do I do when I´m home? Help me decide, all of you avid fans:

New Job: Inveterate Traveller

I'm leaving Switzerland (where I've been having a fabulous time) tomorrow morning and training to Innsbruck, where I will stay in my first hostel since I studied in Wales. Then off to Vienna on Tuesday, where I'm staying with my Austrian friends Alexander and Kerstin (International Illini buddies). I am planning a day trip to Bratislava, since it's an hour away, but have no other plans other than going to Salzburg probably on the 14th. I don't want to overstay my welcome in Vienna so will probably stay at another hostel or two over the upcoming weekend (depends on where they recommend I visit). I fly back to London on the 16th and will stay one night in my old flat before going to my friends Steven & Emma's.

So far everything is going well. I'll write more later.

Tchüss,
Theresa

Conversation With The Brother

Existimatio: Just so you guys know, I'm flying to Switzerland on Monday night for a week.
hentaisuperman: where are you leaving your stuff?
Existimatio: I'm leaving one suitcase here with my flatmates and taking the other with me.
Existimatio: I'll have to mail a small box home. Other stuff (pillows, etc.) I'm giving to Steven & Emma.
hentaisuperman: ok
Existimatio: I can only stay a week with Stephan (that's all he can get off work), so I think I'll take a night train to Vienna and then go to Saltzburg and fly back from there.
Existimatio: Or wherever I can get a cheap flight. :)
hentaisuperman: fly back to england, then what?
Existimatio: Depends on the money and if I feel like living with Steven & Emma for a while, or travelling a little more, or getting an illegal job in a pub or something.
Existimatio: I'll need to come back here for at least a week to get my tax stuff sorted out.
Existimatio: So basically, I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing for the next month, except that I'll be in Switzerland for part of it. Does that make Mom happy? Cuz it sure doesn't make me.
hentaisuperman: then why don't you come home if you're unhappy?
Existimatio: I'm not unhappy, I'm just scared.
hentaisuperman: pfft.
hentaisuperman: welcome to my road trip
hentaisuperman: tom : "So what next?" Me: "whatever happens, happens."
Existimatio: I'm annoyed because I wanted to go to Paris for a few days and then Switzerland for two weeks, and now everything's messed up.
hentaisuperman: awww.
Existimatio: So now I'm going to go to Austria just because it's close and I might as well while I'm over there.
hentaisuperman: ok
Existimatio: I'm mostly nervous because I kind of like planning out my trips a bit in advance and now it's like "boom! gonna go to Switzerland in three days!" Luckily Stephan has lots of trips planned.
hentaisuperman: mom "she has been rehearsing how unhappy she will be. She's been telling herself that daily. and be careful because that will make it come true"
Existimatio: I'm not going to be unhappy when I'm in Europe! I'm just nervous about travelling alone in a country where I don't speak the language. Obviously most people speak English but it will still be unnerving. Luckily I know what to do: buy lots of difficult books to read before I go!
hentaisuperman: she's talking about coming back here
Existimatio: Oh, yes, I know I'll be displeased with the U.S. It happened last time and I don't see how this time will be any different. I enjoy living in Europe much more. Except driving. I will definitely need to borrow a car a lot to go make some trips.
hentaisuperman: keep telling yourself how much it sucks here, it'll help
hentaisuperman: especially how bad chicago will be, you know, with it being so rural and all
Existimatio: I think I'll take Dad's advice and join the foreign service.
hentaisuperman: go nuts
Existimatio: Hmmmm.... which one is more exciting to live in (for me)? Beautiful historical buildings, or nasty tall skyscrapers that block out the light?
hentaisuperman: then go live somewhere else in the u.s.
Existimatio: I'll be fine if I move to Chicago, because Sam and Marissa already live there and I can hang out with them all the time. And then I can, like, get married and move to the suburbs and like, have 2.5 kids and a dog.
Existimatio: Oh yeah.... I can move to Detroit, or Minneapolis, or Pittsburgh.... those are exciting, vibrant cities.
hentaisuperman: what about la, or phoenix, or seattle, or whatever.
Existimatio: Nope, I'm spoiled for life: I can only live in nice big cities, not half-assed ones. So out of the English-speaking world that leaves London, New York, and Chicago, and I don't like NYC and can't live here, it seems. So Chicago it is. Along with all the other UofI grads.
Existimatio: The only difference between me and someone like our cousins is that I staved off the inevitable move to Chicagoland by six months.
hentaisuperman: stop being so retarded.
Existimatio: I think if I come home I'll stick around for a couple of weeks, maybe visit Champaign, and then go work for the Newberry Library again till I figure out what to do.
hentaisuperman: ok
Existimatio: Maybe do the same Cali roadtrip as you, except going through NM, then AZ and all the way up the coast.
Existimatio: Or out to New England. See some different parts of the country.
Existimatio: Just need money to do it! Money money money.
Existimatio: Okay, I'm off to see Bombay Dreams. So you guys know what I'm doing, right?
hentaisuperman: yeah
Existimatio: Do you even care?
hentaisuperman: me? no.
hentaisuperman: it's not much different from your going around for christmas or whatever
Existimatio: I just wonder sometimes. Because I flew up to Glasgow and back and I don't think Mom and Dad knew.
hentaisuperman: why is it important?
hentaisuperman: that's like me being "i went to chicago!!!!"
Existimatio: I could die!
hentaisuperman: so could we all.

Conclusion: I'm going to Switzerland on Monday to visit my good friend Stephan for a week. Then to Vienna and Salzburg or wherever. Back here to Britain for a bit, and back home. Comprende?

Fight The Future

In Which I Am Alone

Unusually sunny light streamed through the cracks in my drab curtains, waking me up at the early hour of 10.30. Turning over, I looked at the other bed. There was the duvet, crumpled on the bed. And there was Stacy's double-wide sheet tucked into the twin bed. But no Stacy. She had arisen at 8 a.m. and snuck out for her return to the Study Abroad Office in Champaign.

Leaving me alone.

It's now 2 p.m. and I've: read a trashy book Brenna lent me; watched trashy daytime chat shows; surfed the web on the off chance anyone updated their online journals since last night; written down things I must do; and become increasingly nervous.

I have until Monday. That's it.

And so of course I'm whiling away the time and being highly unproductive. It's the same thing that happened right before I left to come here six months ago, a lifetime ago: short bursts of energy followed by long periods of apathy. Manic vs. depressive. There are all kinds of things I should be doing and buying, but I have three more days, right? Right.

In Which Magic Shoes Are Wished For

I've done pretty well the past six months--haven't been homesick too often, known that here is better than there. But this morning, lying on the couch watching crap TV, I thought how much nicer it would be to do that back home. Watching crap TV while lying on the couch. Except at home I would have a nice blanket and hundreds of channels of crap versus just five.

I'm scared, nervous, and mentally unprepared to go abroad. While I know two weeks in Switzerland will be fantastic, leaving the comforts of South Kensington is a daunting thought. So is the fact that yet again my life has no definite plan.

It would be so much easier to just buy a ticket and go home. But while I'm over here I might as well take up the offer of a free place to stay in Zurich. Not many people have that!

In Which Blessings Are Counted

Neither do most people have:

a lovely former boss (Stacy) who comes into town, takes one out to a fabulous and expensive dinner at the nearby Danish restaurant, complete with friendly and cute Danish waiters

another lovely UofI person (Natalia) who takes me and Stacy out for an Italian meal and converses in Spanish with the waitstaff

a going-away lunch in a fantastic Turkish restaurant on Tuesday

two 40-pound vouchers to be used at any theatres in London (a gift from my coworkers)!

In Which I Make You Jealous

I was highly complimented last night when Natalia told me that out of all of the students she has seen do the BUNAC programme, I have had the most success with it. Not only with my job, but also my social life. Let's see: tomorrow night I'm going out with my flatmates; Saturday night I'm going to a fancy-dress party with my co-worker Tim where you dress as your favourite Tube station; and Sunday I'm going out for drinks with James (who is skiing in Austria this week). I must admit that I have done some fairly cool things, and telling Natalia about my weekend in Bristol might have been part of the reason she complimented me.

My friend Callum is finishing his aeronautical engineering degree at Bristol University before starting at Sandhurst next autumn. Because he's in the Army and knows lots of other students in the Officers' Training Corps (the British version of ROTC), he was invited to the annual Naval Ball. And I was his guest.

In Which A Naval Ball Is Attended

I had a fantastic black dress with silver beading, and walked into the living room Saturday evening to see around 10 tall, gorgeous men wearing suits with bowties they all knew how to tie themselves. Stunning! Especially because when Callum referred to his wearing a "dinner jacket" (or "DJ" for short) I thought that meant a sportcoat. No indeed--it's akin to a tuxedo, with a stripe down the trousers and tuxedo shirts, cummerbunds, and matching handkerchiefs. The complete package.

The ball was held in a stately home outside of Bristol, replete with huge, high-ceiling octagonal rooms, wide staircases, and of course mimosas (called "bucks fizz" here), a bar, and a live band. We got our portraits taken, which you can view by going here and entering "DOPA" under "Client Name" on the "View Your Shoot" page. I'm in the first batch after the girl in the pink dress (Callum's flatmate Honey). All of Callum's flatmates were fantastic fun (all are somehow in the armed forces, be it Army, Navy or Air Force), and his flatmate Rich regaled us with a tale of meeting Prince Philip at the annual Kensington Palace ball last spring. If I'm here in May I'm invited....oh, that I'm here in May!

Sunday morning I woke on a mattress on the floor, hungover and tired. Not only did we not get home till 2.30ish, but Callum and I watched the hilarious National Lampoon film Van Wilder. Well, I watched it and Callum fell asleep. We immediately went out for a greasy fry-up, the classic English hangover cure being bacon, eggs, toast, mushrooms, tomatoes, tea, toast, and baked beans. Mmmmmmm....

Fortified, Callum's flatmates Rick/Rich and Emma joined us on the Downs. I had no idea Bristol is: a.) so hilly, b.) so rich, c.) so full of nature. A five-minute drive from the city centre yields high grassy plains over which look huge mansions, gazing out onto the fit populace of Bristol, all of whom either seem to be avid runners or kite-flyers. We were among the latter, and spent a cold and blustery time of it manipulating Rick's rainbow kite. Then we walked across the famous Clifton suspension bridge over the Severn Gorge, built by Ismabard Kingdom Brunel. It's hilarous how they even have a drinking song that involves him which they sang on the busride home. Something to do with a giant erection... Anyway, it (the bridge) is quite stunning. It was interesting learning how people who try to commit suicide from it often don't time it right and jump at low tide, ending up stuck in the mud for hours with broken legs before they're rescued. Or the tide comes in and they drown.

In Which Theresa Becomes Jealous

Bristol is second only to Oxford and Cambridge, and is where many students from the rich areas of Southern England go to school. One of the patrons in the 1930s built this dormitory for his son who didn't make it into Oxbridge. Yes, Wills Hall is a replica of an Oxbridge college, complete with a huge medieval door with a smaller opening cut in it to enter, a chapel, and a Harry Potter-esque dining hall where formal dinners are held every Friday night for the students.

Callum brought his dj to Champaign, figuring he would need it. No, I can't imagine people wearing it to ISR, where I lived for two years. What a contrast.

In Which I Flew In A Sunset

It's a little-known fact that the British Army has aeroplanes, but they do, and that is why Callum is in the Army. And so that he can go play war games in Canada over the summer. Anyway, he is an accomplished pilot and spent last summer flying crop dusters and skydiving planes all over Australia. After Nick took me flying a few weeks ago, I have overcome my fear of small planes and begged to be taken up for a spin.

Callum, Emma, Rick (an RAF pilot, although without an official licence) and I bundled into another Piper aeroplane and Callum flew us around for about 45 minutes. He fooled around a bit, at one point banking so sharply that he joked we would fall out (which I didn't appreciate). He also asked if I wanted to steer, but even taking his hands off the controller wouldn't make me grab mine. No way. Maybe after a few more flights, or nearer to the ground than 5,000 feet. But being up that high afforded us the most magnificent view of all--seeing the setting sun over the tops of the low-lying clouds. And turning to the east, something I will remember forever: the sky a dim grey-blue below, a bright lavender pink above, and in between the most brilliant violet-blue band of colour I have ever seen. It was magical, simply breathtaking. As was descending over the city of Gloucester as its lights began to twinkle, swooping over the cathedral on our way to the airport. Wow. Am I lucky.


In Which A Conclusion Is Reached

So that was the weekend. I helped out the new temp and had one last interview on Wednesday morning. It's strange to think I won't ever be working at King's again. A bit saddening, but a bit enlivening nonetheless.

Now I need to buy a guidebook to Switzerland. Maybe one to Lichenstein, too...

I'm frightened of change.

Love,
Theresa

Short 'n' Sweet

This weekend I went to Bristol for my second ball in six months, and flew in a wee aeroplane for the second time in a month. All well and good, and makes me not want to leave this beautiful, beautiful land. I'll write more when I have the time, but tomorrow I'm showing the new temp around, and will be for the next three days of work. I finish on Wednesday, thank the Lord!

No, I have no idea yet where I'm going on Monday the 1st. It all hinges on jobs and interviews and whether or not I'm rich enough to go to Paris and back here before going to Switzerland or Germany, or if I should just go directly to the Germanic countries. Choices, choices. Why not make the decision for me in my poll (to the right, or below, depending on your broweser)?

Tomorrow night I'm going out to a Danish restaurant with my old boss Stacy, who's visiting till Wednesday. I love my life. Just wish it would continue on this way, but then again, who knows what will happen. I don't even know where I'll be this time next month, let alone next year.

Sad but true. Sad but true.

Theresa

The Stats So Far

Jobs applied to: 15

Jobs interviewed for: 5 (four down, one to go at South Bank Uni next Wednesday)

Out of that:

Jobs rejected from: 2 (Queen Mary, CAPA)

Jobs not heard from: 2 (the American School in Surrey, and the Glasgow School of Art, which I interviewed at yesterday)

We'll see what happens. In the meantime, keep sending those good wishes!

Theresa

In the Limelight

To all my fans out there: I'll post soon, have no fear. In the meantime, you can read really nasty things people have written about both of my parents in an online forum.

Apparently my father is a slimy, corrupt politician who takes bribes, my mom supports the local school's controversial superintendent only because she's getting paid $100/hr for a contracting job (first I've heard of that amount of money!), and our farm--excuse me, "swampland," I believe it was called--only got into the Wetlands Reserve Program because my dad pulled some strings and bribed people because he doesn't want my town to grow. (Must have used all that money from the other bribes he got...take a little, give a little, right?) It has nothing to do with the fact that a.) it's a floodplain that houses could never be built on anway, b.) he's been applying to this programme for eight years, and c.) the government wants to buy up the entire Sugar River to make it a protected corridor. Oh no, nothing at all to do with any of that.

I love people. Especially ignorant, reactionary, libelous jerks who shouldn't be allowed near a computer, let alone near a voting booth.

Theresa

IT NEVER RAINS BUT IT POURS

And I'm not just talking about the floods happening in Northern England and Wales. No indeed--after tons of emails and applications sent off, I am proud to announce I have not one, but TWO interviews!

Tues. 10 Feb: American Community Schools (Egham, Surrey). Job description: here

Thurs. 19 Feb: Glasgow School of Art (Glasgow, Scotland). Job description: unfortunately not online, but a Study Abroad Advisor

So...best case scenario and I get offered both jobs. Where would *you* want to live and work?








Theresa

WOULDN'T IT BE LOVERLY

For all of you shivering in the cold Midwestern winter, I'd like to point out that I had to switch from my winter coat to my spring jacket, it's been so unseasonably warm. Good ol' Gulf Stream...

Theresa

THE GOOD LIFE

Monday I enjoyed a HI-larious three hours of constant laughing with Brenna, Elizabeth, and Brenna's friend Simon. Brenna's favourite standup comedian, Jim Gaffigan, is in town and through a little emailing she scored us free tickets to a show with nine standup comics, in a famous London nightclub . Oh, and did I mention that it was filmed for Comedy Central? And that because we were sitting so close to the front--and the cameras were pointed on us a great deal of the time--it's almost guaranteed that we'll be on the show? Yup. I'm gonna be on Comedy Central.

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This past weekend I spent watching Back to the Future, Indiana Jones, Muppets in Space and flying in an airplane. Not at the same time, of course. My friend from Swansea, Nick, has his pilot's license and convinced me to take a spin around on Friday.

This was a difficult decision for me, since the only other time I've been in a small plane was in Arizona in a glider. And the entire time I had a knot in my stomach that only sheer willpower stopped from turning into a full-fledged panic attack.

Perhaps it was the absence of my highstrung, anti-flying mother, but in the presence of calm, clearheaded Nick and his pilot friend Tom I wasn't nervous at all. Heck, two pilots (one of them about to become a commercial pilot) should be able to land the plane if anything happened. Which it didn't, of course. We sped off the runway and circled over the beautiful Worcestershire countryside not once, but three times, coming down onto the runway each time. I stared out the window, entranced by the beautiful patchwork of green fields and small Tudor farmhouses, along with the occassional church in a small village and stately home with intricate gardens. Once down and back in a car, the houses felt strange. I'd just been flying over them, peering into their back gardens... At any rate, I highly enjoyed it and no longer fear flying in tiny planes. That said, my dad's starting to take flying lessons, but there's no way I'm going to let him take me up till he's been flying for at least two years!

I enjoyed a relaxing weekend, beginning Thursday night, in the countryside--the first time I'd been outside of a town or city in five months, not counting the occassional train journey. Nick and his oh-so-cool parents, Barry and Andrea, live on the grounds of a stately home owned by a friend of Henry VIII, near the town of Droitwich Spa in Worcestershire, near Birmingham. It's a grand vista--a huge mansion surrounded by trees in an empty field--and I'm jealous they get to live there. They have a superb view to distant hills, and are even able to keep some chickens and feed their neighbour's sheep if they feel like it. That said, it's the city life for me. I had a sudden burst of happiness getting back into London on Sunday that resulted in me singing as I walked along the pavement. Still, it was fun driving around the adorable villages on Sunday before coming back to the hustle and bustle of the Big Smoke.

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It's interesting seeing where people's lives are taking them. Now's the big transition period, and I predict it will take another five years or so for everyone to get themselves sorted. Nick, for example, was nearing the completion of his business degree at Swansea when he woke up one morning and decided he wanted to be a pilot. I'm still waiting for the thunderbolt to hit! He's going to be an air traffic controller starting in October, with the eventual goal of being a commercial airline pilot. Good luck to him, I say. I wish I had a Life Plan.

I've been getting depressed lately, which is why I haven't been writing as much. Okay, it's pretty hard to be depressed when one of your best friends comes to visit (like Lucy did weekend before last) or you're on a minibreak (like this past weekend) or you're going out with cool people in the middle of the week and doing cool things. But the job hunt isn't going well and I have a sneaky suspicion that I need to beef up my CV before I'll be able to secure another job here. I'm trying, and I might even come back and stay with my friends Steven & Emma for a bit before going home to the farm next to the town of 200, near the most boring city in Illinois... just trying to delay the inevitable return to the historical wasteland that is North America!

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I've done some Cool Things recently:

Last Wednesday my friend Callum popped over from Bristol to see a musical and go out for drinks. We saw the fabulous Anything Goes, which I was in in high school as part of the chorus. It was a glorious building, a fantastic musical, and was followed by a bit too much wine and Callum asking if I want to attend the Naval Ball with him in Bristol on the 21st. Ooooh, another ball! With men in uniform! And the excuse to buy a dress! Of course I accepted, and am looking forward to going flying again, as Callum is an accomplished pilot who flew crop dusters and skydiving planes over Australia last summer. We'll probably hug the Welsh coastline on the Bristol Channel and might even fly over Swansea a bit! I think it's cool that Callum is even getting his hot air balloon license. And that if I'm around in March I can go to another ball in Kensington Palace. If that's not an incentive to say, I don't know what is!

Last night (Tuesday) I met up with a friend of a friend--Rob Smith, friend of James as opposed to the lead singer of the Cure. Had only met him once before, so was concerned I wouldn't recognise him. Luckily, he recognised me, and we hightailed it off to the famous Waxy O'Connor's near Leicester Square, full of trees and Celtic designs, then to Soho for dinner and drinks in two pubs I'd long admired in Covent Garden (the Roundhouse and the Maple Leaf, full of Canucks). Rob's an officer in the RAF, which I think is damn cool. So is his/James's friend Jamie, who's coming into town this weekend and meeting up with me as well.

Which brings me to the point: why are all of my friends here male? It's a puzzling question. Do British girls find it more difficult, or not worth their while, to make friends with an American girl? Is my American demeanor more attractive to the male population? Or do they all want to shag me or what? ;)

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One thing I realised I forgot to cover is my fabulous weekend with one of my few English girlfriends, the lovely Lucy. She and I were the best of friends during my time in Swansea, and she made my time there so much more enjoyable. It was fantastic seeing her again (I saw her in September when I visited the girls in Swansea), but I was sad when we bid farewell. Who knows when we'll see each other again?

The weekend she came was the 23--26, and it was highlighted by our Burns Night Supper on Saturday the 24th. Elizabeth joined us at the London Welsh Centre (I know--weird venue for a Scottish celebration, although I guess the Celtic cousins can band together in their mutual hatred of the English). We feasted on haggis, neeps and tatties, and the girls had to put up with me going 'neeps and tatties, neeps, neeps and tatties' to the tune of 'ass and titties, ass, ass and titties.' You get the point.

As it was the Highlands & Islands Society that put on the show, we were treated to songs in Gaelic that everyone sang along to (sadly, they were all old and there weren't any brawny kilt-wearing young laddies). We kept waiting to see who else would sit at our table, when in walked an African woman in full tribal garb--fabric wound around her head and all--and her four African children. She glided regally over to our table and spoke in an African language to her kids, but eventually started talking to Lucy. We found out they were Nigerian, and she was married to one of the Scottish men who helped organise the event. What an unusual combination! It provided us with many musings on how they must have met and gotten married...

Lucy and I rounded off the weekend by hitting Brick Lane Market and the wonderful Columbia Flower Market, followed by my all-time favourite, Spitalfields. Columbia Flower Market was something all of my co-workers continuously told me to visit, but I'm glad I waited until now to go to. If I'd gone earlier I would have been talked into buying tons of flowers! It was fantastic--Cockney men shouting out 'Four primroses for a fiver! Get 'em now!', just like My Fair Lady. Utterly fantastic. If I can stay here I'm going to get myself a flowerbox and plant some gorgeous flowers. If.

I talked Lucy into staying another night, as it was so nice being able to talk into the wee hours. I miss having her as a flatmate, and if gay marriage is ever legalised we plan on getting married so I can stay here. We know we can live together, as we did it for a year, and she can cook and I'll tidy. It'll be a sham, of course, but I can get residency after two years! :) Why not.

--------------------

So that's the life. This Friday my French friend Sonia and her boyfriend Richard are coming into London for the Very First Time. I'll be glad to repay the favour, as they took me and Stephan all over Paris over New Year's. Then I have a weekend to myself, followed by a five-day visit from my old boss from Illinois, and the Naval Ball. And the last weekend of February I have two events to go to: Tom's Sunday Cafe on the 29th, and a fancy dress party at my co-worker Tim's field hocky club. The theme: dress as your favourite Tube station. I have a great costume in mind, courtesy of Nick and his parents' creativity... more on that later.

Oh, and I have to find a husband or a job in the next 25 days. Wish me luck!

Love,
Theresa

CULTURESHOCK

I'm watching the Superbowl as narrated by an English broadcaster with a Cockney accent, who just explained that in American football it's okay to be on the defensive at lot. Riiiight!

LATE WINTER(S)

My dreams have finally been answered: we had a snowstorm yesterday. Not just any snow--large, fluffy, downy white flakes that drifted lazily downwards until caught by gusts of strong winds, forcing people to hold on tightly to their umbrellas. Yes, the British use umbrellas in the snow--I love their naivete. (See some photos here and here.)

My Canadian boss and I remarked on how much we enjoy snow, how it feels like winter now--much to the chagrin of our warm-blooded co-workers.

I took pictures of cyclades covered in snow in the flowerboxes at the end of my street. And this morning, the slush had frozen to ice so I was slipping on the pavement (sidewalk) all the way to the station.

It was great.

Life Is Jolly Good

Have applied for seven jobs, got shot down for two. Hmmmm. I have five weeks to find something, so we'll see. Work sucks, so I won't dwell on it, but will say there are a few other people unhappy there as well.

Last week I recovered from vistors, then took James out for a lovely meal.

My dearest flatmate from Swansea, Lucy, spent the weekend, and it was as lovely as I thought it would be. I even convinced her to spend last night as well.

Wednesday my friend Callum is whisking me out to dinner, a musical of my choice, and drinks.

Thursday I leave for my other Swansea friend's, Nick, in Worcestershire (no, you Yanks! that's not how you say it!). There I will spend another lovely weekend with his charming parents (who even sent me postcards on holiday!) and trying not to be too scared contemplating him flying me in a tiny aeroplane. Yes, that's how they spell it here--don't laugh.

Take my poll (on the right-hand side or bottom) while you're waiting for me to update. I'll also be putting up pictures at some point in the near-distant future.


Talk to you all later!

Love, Theresa

This post has been a long time in the coming--it details events from the 14--19 of January.

Leaving the U.S. for the Very First Time

In Which Friendship Is Tested

Having been best friends over eight years now, Megan and I have weathered the distance of living over an hour-and-a-half apart, going to universities ten hours apart, and even me living in a time zone six hours ahead for the better part of a year. Nothing has dampened the constant flow of emails and phonecalls, so when she and her boyfriend arrived on Wednesday morning it was as if I'd seen her only weeks before, not almost six months.

It was a bang-up job getting them into my flat and rushing out for the now-infamous interview at Queen Mary. My heart was lightened with the knowledge that Megan and Joel would be able to distract me from worrying about the interview. It worked. The entire weekend, from Wednesday on, was a constant rush of seeing London--and we all loved every minute of it. Not a tourist site was unturned, not a monument unseen. And we even had time for a nap one day. Now that's travelling!

In Which Culture Shock Is Experienced Through Sandwiches

Maybe it was because they'd never left the country before (well, Joel's been to bits of Canada north of Minnesota), but the level of culture shock was tangible at times. My other visitors--Esther, Alex, Stephan, my family--have all travelled more widely, and it showed in their ease with new situations. The weather was a source of distaste for Megan and Joel: it was too cold here. 'What?' I cried. 'You live in Minnesota. How can London be colder?' Once they explained I realised the truth: it's a damp cold here, and it seeps into the buildings and into your bones. I've become acclimatised and even consider it dry. Well, it is--compared to Wales.

The biggest bone of contention, the least favourite aspect of Britain, for Megan, was the food. Don't get me wrong--I can remember having some horrid encounters in Swansea with pickle-and-cheese sandwiches (not the kind of pickle you're thinking of!), but I at least tried out the various kinds of food until I knew what I like and don't like. And frankly, the sandwiches here are waaaaay better than in the U.S. Hamburgers and pizza, no, but boy do they do a good prawn sandwich. Mmmm, mmm, good! It surprised me that Joel and Megan didn't come to my way of thinking that the British food is at least as good as American, and in some cases even better.

In Which Confessions Are Made To Huddled Masses Yearning To Break Free

I must confess: I ate at McDonald's. AND at Burger King. And I drank Coke a lot, too. I know, I know--you're asking yourself 'Why? Why, Theresa? Why did you go against every grain in your body to not be one of those Americans walking down the street eating a Whopper and complaining about the food? Why?' Well, I'll tell ya. I was being a good hostess!

I must confess to something else, though: I felt superior. In fact, I do right now. Yes, you huddled masses reading this: I have broken free of the shackles that are the American Media Bubble and the Pacific and Atlantic Oceans. I have escaped outside the confines of Americentric North America and realised what a big, beautiful world there is out here. And that--are you ready for this?--it's better than the U.S. Castles, history, fashion...it's all right here.

I'm back to feeling the same angst I did when I was in Wales. Yes, all of my friends back home who tell me they want me back, and how cool it is I've been over here, are missing the one highly important point that I don't want to go home. This is one of my homes. Elizabeth put it well: 'If you have to leave,' she said, 'you'll be back. It's in your blood. This has been one of our homes, and always will be.'

So why Megan and Joel don't want to move over here, I don't know. It's hard for me to fathom people not loving this city, this country, in the same way or with the same amount of fervour that I do. But to each their own...I guess.

In Which London Is Conquered

We saw just about everything there is to see, and had a fantastic time in the doing. I won't go into mundane detail, but the highlights for me were the Jack the Ripper Tour, seeing Westminster Cathedral (both of which I'd never done), and taking them to the Reduced Shakespeare Company. As Megan was a theatre major she especially loved it, but even the groundlings like me and Joel appreciated the humour.

So Long, Farewell, No Need To Say Adieu

I feel pleased that I've singlehandedly been responsble for three Americans getting their passports (M, J and my brother). And I'm so pleased that they came, and had a wonderful time. I feel like a good hostess--I showed them all the main things, plus some out-of-the-way sights like Spitalfields Market. It's wonderful having been able to show my life, my flat, my flatmates--my city--to such a close friend. And I hope that they return to Europe one day, for I believe it gets into people's consciousness. Certainly is in mine!

Short & Sweet...For Once

Megan & Joel left on Monday. Tonight after a four-day respite, my old Swansea friend, Lucy, is coming to visit. And Saturday it's Burns Night--so get out there and celebrate, ye wee lads and lassies! More later.

Also, I just realised:

I have five weeks left. Five weeks.

South Kensington, South Kensington

On the way home tonight I noticed a strange car, shiny and glowing in an incandescent light all of its own. Now, I'm not one for cars. I can't identify them by their taillights like my friend Esther; I can't tell the make and model at a distance. So it was only after I stood close to the back and peered at the logo that I realised what it was, why it was so special.

It was a Rolls Royce.

Buzz Kill

Didn't hear anything all day. Grew numb with the waiting. Finally got up the nerve to call. Apparently I 'had a really good interview--congratulations on that' and they had 'a very strong field of candidates,' but they 'went with the person with more experience,' although they 'encourage me to apply again if any other jobs open up.' Sha, right.

So I'm officially bummed.

I tried everything I could on this one. Now I think drowning my sorrows are in order.

Theresa

Interview Schminterview

So I had the interview this morning... along with the seven other people they're interviewing. I have a 1 in 8 chance of being hired. 12.5%. What do you think about it?









Wish me luck--I'll find out on Friday if I get to stay in this beautiful, blessed land or go home in defeat and despair.

Love,
Theresa