First Class

To end my adventures in Florida, somehow, inexplicably, I ended up in first class on the first leg of my life. It was a dream come true.

http://travelbestway.org/wp-content/uploads/2010/02/air-travel.jpg

Here's how it went down: after getting up at four in the morning (eastern time) to catch our flights, I said goodbye to [Львица] as we were in separate parts of the massive Orlando Airport and made my way through security line, where I was taken aside, had my bag rustled through and my hat complemented on by the nicest TSA agent I have ever met (seriously, he told me to put my sandals on because the floor was a bit cold. SIR, I SALUTE YOU). I then took the wrong tram to the wrong terminal but quickly realized my mistake and easily got on the right one. I then went to the wrong gate, which was directly across from the one I was supposed to be at, moved over, and watched CNN talk about Kate Middleton giving out shamrocks for Saint Patrick's Day and then decided Kate Middleton is amazing. Not long after this, a woman working at the gate called my name and I went up to the desk. She asked me if it would be okay if they changed my seat and I said sure. She offered me a seat near an emergency exit and I said it would be fine. Then she printed out a new boarding pass and said something along the lines of, "You'll really like this one."

I sat back down, looked at it and realized it said "priority boarding." Seat 3D - FIRST CLASS. HOW THE HELL DID THAT HAPPEN?! I couldn't decide if it had something to do withe my delay on the way to Orlando (getting stuck in Boston for three hours), or it was because of some seating issue and I was traveling alone and easy to move, or if it was just pure luck. Regardless, Delta - kudos. You have regained my trust. I got food and real glassware and real silverware and a hot towel and leg room and I WANT TO FLY THIS WAY ALL OF THE TIME.

Not gonna happen. But I can dream. Life tile made - and I didn't even expect it :D

Of Surf and Sunburn

I am back from Florida, slightly sunburned, slightly sick (caught a cold while there or while in the airport; yay), and already longing to go back to the ocean. OH MY GOD WHY DID NO ONE TELL ME IT'S JUST AS ROMANTICALLY SPECTACULAR AS I'D ALWAYS DREAMED?! If you can't tell, I am very happy to have finally been IN the ocean. Not seeing it in the lagoon in Venice; not touching the North Sea in St. Andrews, Scotland. But being TOTALLY SUBMERGED in salty, powerful waves in the Atlantic. If you live in Florida, and don't go to the beach, WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?

Oh, wait, that's [uber gay]. Sorry about that, mate. (Really, when he went with us to the beach while he was there, it was only the third time he'd done for something that didn't involve gathering meteorological data).

Other than frolicking on the beach, collecting shells and having the most relaxing vacation of my life, I learned four very interesting things about the Sunshine State:

1) There are lizards everywhere. Seriously. They are more abundant than pigeons in Venice. These little geckos skitter across the concrete aimlessly and reside in every palm grove (and every time they rustle in the foliage, I was certain that a velociraptor was going to tear through the trees - because I've never seen forests like what Florida has except in Jurassic Park. Thus the fear of dinosaurs).

2) Sand gets fucking everywhere. Enough said.

3) One cannot buy alcohol while in the presence of under-aged people in a Walmart in Melbourne, FL (because they immediately assume that you are buying it for them, even when they say they are not going to drink it and that the ARE under-aged and are not trying to buy it illegally). I found this the hard way and then went on a diatribe about the stupidity of liquor laws in the United States and vowed to move to Britain in the parking lot of said Walmart (but you know, it's not really a trip to Walmart if I don't have a bitchfest in the parking lot afterwards). This is like the third time I've had trouble buying alcohol legally in my own country; what's with this?

4) Florida is fucking weird. Seriously, if the strange animals and plants and jellyfish suicides (we saw tiny dead jellies on the beach. It was unsettling) weren't enough, Florida people are... different. They are insane drivers. They have an accent that sounds like a blend of surfer and Southern. And they're... well, they're kind of racist. When students openly complain about the "stupid Saudis" that are terrible drivers that knock down light poles... well, I can tell I'm not in Minnesota anymore. Guess I take for granted that racism isn't as blatant up north. Florida is a totally different world.

[Львица] and me at the beach

But I finally saw the sea! I swam in it! I drank mead at an Irish restaurant! Great success and finally a college spring break trip. Brilliant. Life tiles made :D

Spring Breaking

http://www.eatmedaily.com/2009/02/saturday-night-live-im-on-a-boat-digital-short-video-snl/

I cannot believe it is finally Spring Break. I meant to write a post about my spring break plans (because I actually have some, for the first time ever) but I didn't get around to it until now. Considering I leave tomorrow, better late than never.

I am, somehow, going to Florida. Yes, Florida. My friend [uber gay] goes to school down there and, because I had frequent flyer miles left over (because, although I was supposed to have used them to fly to Scotland over the summer, I couldn't and thus still have had them lingering around) I'm able to fly to Florida mostly for free.

Probably why I didn't bring this up sooner is that I can't quite comprehend that I'm actually going. I mean, most people I know are, for once, not going anywhere on break. And I am. And I'm going somewhere tropical. Yes, I'll be staying in Melbourne, not Miami. And no, I don't think I'll be having crazy nights clubbing and drinking myself senseless (or will I?! No, seriously, I won't. I drink one beer and it's like I just ate a whole loaf of bread. I'm not much for wild drinking).

However, in honor of my trip, I would like to highlight a song for which I have deemed is the theme for the trip. So here it is:

Exactly. SPRING BREAK 2012!!!! WOOOOOT!!!

And just in case you think I truly am descending into a Bacchanalian revelry, I'd like to remind you who this blogger is. And that I've packed Frankenstein, Sherlock Holmes, a John Barrowman autobiography, and The Hobbit to read on the beach. The typical college student, I am not (or at least the stereotypical).

Cineworld

Today during Italian when, for the second day in a row the sub for our professor did not show up, I found myself daydreaming about Scotland once again. (May I note that it's especially weird in college when subs don't show up? Technically students are allowed to leave after 15 minutes if no instructor arrives but if you do this, often you will get yelled at later. Yesterday, we did take advantage of this, but today, we found the film we were supposed to watch on Netflix and watched about 30 minutes of it. We should get extra credit for that, I think :D Especially as the film was quite odd). Anyway, I was sitting there, watching the odd film, thinking about this movie theater we went to on the last day in Scotland (I mentioned it in the post on Captain America, thus it's recently been in my thoughts).

It's called Cineworld City Center and it is apparently the world's tallest cinema (12 stories, baby!). I wish I could find pictures of the inside of this theater because fellow Yanks like myself will be utterly blown away. IT'S INCREDIBLE.

Maybe I've just never been to a really fancy movie theater. I mean, I'm looking up photos online and I keep getting images of Gerard Butler and Ewan McGregor at film premieres. Clearly, this place is kind of a big deal. Now I'm wondering how the likes of me got in there :P

Let me try to explain how incredible this theater is. For one thing, their ticket area takes up a good chunk of the first floor... er, ground floor for you Europeans. None of this pathetic tiny box office area like we have in some American theaters, where you're standing on each other's hair if there's a long line. No, Brits seem to understand that there needs to be ROOM for queuing. Then, there's the fact that they have a STUDENT DISCOUNT. FOR MOVIES. I can't even get a student discount for some museums and theatrical productions in the States, let alone movie theaters! Then there's the floors - there are a million escalators taking you up to each floor, which was a bit baffling for us because there's only two theaters or so per floor (sorry, sorry, American theaters put everything on one level so then our theaters stretch out like a shopping mall. Kudos for you guys for making it classier and more compact, even if the long elevator ride is somewhat dizzying). But once you reach the floor you need, you begin to understand why there's only two theaters per floor. Because the concession areas are BRILLIANT.

It's like... a giant popcorn/soda area along with an candy shop. On each floor. Along with other eatables like pretzels and such. Seriously, if I hadn't been running out of cash and had no idea how much cab fare to the airport was going to cost the next morning, I probably would have splurged on British sweets. I was totally blown away by what the theater was like. Seriously, going to the movies in America is usually not this cool. Maybe because we do it all the time.

I think this is a different theater, but you get the idea of the basic layout and design.

Even watching the movie itself was different. The previews at the beginning were different from American previews (seriously, the ad for Bridesmaids was nothing like the one shown in America). The disclaimers about pirating movies and not letting kids in for adult films were shown more and much more... I don't know, government-y, official sounding. More forceful. And it was different just to hear everything said with a British accent (seemingly minor, but really... for an American, who hears American voices all day long - except when watching British TV - it's kind of weird. Although it does get to the point that when you hear American voices THAT sounds weird).

So, if you're in Glasgow and you have nothing better to do, spend 10 quid or so and enjoy a memorable cinematic experience. And if you don't mind, bring me back some of that candy, please :)

Pissed

I saw this on "the Twitter": Scots ban on supermarket alcohol deals come into force
.... *sigh*...

Just... *sigh*...


I am aware that Scotland has issues with their drinking culture. I am also aware that much of Britain, Ireland, Russia, parts of America - the list goes on, I'm sure - also has various such issues.

But my personal interaction with drinking in Scotland has been... well, memorable.

Story #1:
[X] kept getting pissed off (by which I mean angry) whenever she would get carded (or passported, technically) in Glasgow pubs. I was actually kind of thrilled. Yes, it means that they have reason to doubt we were under 18 when we were actually 20. And probably because she assumes that alcohol is loosely handed out in Scotland (see above article for why this is NOT EXACTLY TRUE).  BUT being carded is part of being an adult. Yay for what's going to happen to me every time I order a drink until my hair turns grey!

Story #2
It was our last full night in Edinburgh and we were watching a Manchester United versus Barcelona soccer - I mean football - I mean calcio - I mean that sport where they kick that black-and-white ball around - in the pub in the basement of our hostel. I was hanging out with [No-Mr-Darcy] and [bromandawg] while [X] was drinking way too much hard cider with [one-complicated-lesbian] upstairs. It was rather noisy as some DJ started playing weird electronic music after the game ended so the three of us headed out to the patio to get some fresh air and to hear ourselves think. Outside was a group of British chaps dressed in hunting gear. Ridiculous turn-of-the-century clothes and false mustaches and such. And one guy was dressed like a stereotype of an Italian chef. Now, let me set this up properly. They were staying in the hostel as well, as [X] and I had seen them at breakfast, eating their beans and toast and eggs and usual English/Scottish breakfast fare. Except that they were accompanying their meals with gin and tonics. Solid. By this point in the evening, they were totally hammered. One man in hunting gear started insulting some woman who came outside, calling her a fat cow. She started yelling insults back. Then he... *ahem*... revealed himself to her. She was flabbergasted and returned inside. Til this point, the man had had his back to me. But he continued to keep his crown jewels out in the open, displaying them for the world. I saw them in all their glory as he announced, "You know what I love... is that my bollocks are so pure." [bromandawg] and [No-Mr-Darcy] were embarrassed beyond belief and tried to over-chivalrously apologize. Meanwhile, I was trying not to die laughing. Needless to say it was a bit awkward when I saw him in the breakfast line the next morning. Perhaps God took mercy on him and he didn't remember a thing.

But for every humorous story like that, there's twenty more like this...

St. Andrew's Cross

It’s been nearly three months since I crossed the pond for my summer seminar in Scotland, the third time I’ve been abroad and the best experience yet, but I really haven’t stopped thinking about it. It’s a bit troubling really. Fish and chips sounds utterly unappetizing, due to the quantity I ate there. American cities seem less complex and, well, deep after the complex layering of history in Edinburgh. And, yes, I miss the ability to go out and have a pint in the evenings.

More than that, it’s the mentality of that trip that I miss. I felt like I could do anything, say anything, be myself for this first in a long while. I didn’t worry about grades or being academically perfect (well, not too much), I didn’t worry extensively about my friends or other relationship matters, feeling that everything would be just peachy when I returned home. I didn’t worry about economic affairs (other than trying not to spend too many pounds on hard cider) or the political issues going on in the US. I didn’t let my typical introverted nature take hold and I felt like I had absolute freedom.

Now, here I am, feeling like the entire trip was a dream. With all the work done and grades returned, I feel like I didn’t get what I expected from the course. Some of my friendships are back on the rocks, exactly where they were before Scotland and, despite my attempts at nurturing them, are actually getting worse. I’m still single – but that’s a topic for another day (there’s too many weird complexities in that pathetic little tale to convey here). I am terrified about the economic crisis in the US and I have no idea what the hell I want to do after college. I’m not introverted as much as I used to be, but I feel like I’m constantly disappointing people and absolute freedom is simply a hope for the future.

Perhaps that’s what is lacking now in my return. I has such hope for my summer, for the rest of year, and now just feel burnt out. There’s something about traveling that inspires renewal for me, with this trip in particular. I’d wanted to go to Scotland ever since I was a freshman in high school and that dream finally came true. And it was exactly what I’d hoped for – in fact even better. There’s no point in trying to describe the lushness of the glens and the awe-inspiring buildings in the cities and the absolute beauty of the Highlands. I simply don’t have the words to do it. But it was like something out of my dreams and, for once, all of my other thoughts in life streamlined into this one dream – thoughts on life, love, learning, you get the idea. It was the journey of a lifetime.

And now that I’ve returned home, fallen back into the ennui summers has brought since I graduated from high school, I feel like I’ve woke up from a dream and felt lost in an aftermath of… well, reality. Traveling didn’t change my life – but it did change me. And it’s the struggle to integrate that me back into my life. Journeys don’t end when the travelers return home – it’s only the beginning of another expedition.

There and Back Again

So I haven't used this blog in a long time. Mainly because something called college got in the way of it. Also because I'm still fighting this internal battle as to whether or not I should give up the blog I started last summer. I haven't deleted it, but I did decided to follow my friend who now calls herself [Львица] on this blog so I can actually see what she's writing instead of having to remind myself to log in to my other account and then feel guilty about the old blog (check her out on The Slow Show - http://the-slow-show.blogspot.com/).

My confusing guilt aside, I have also been quite busy this summer. And out of the country for two weeks. My dream of going to Scotland finally came true and it was even more amazing than I thought it would be. It defiantly deserves a blog post - or 10. But not right now. I need to get back into the grove of this before I consider such lofty goals for myself.

And mainly, the rest of the time I've just been a total bum, skirting between joyous, enlightened glee, ridiculous romanticism, and now, unfortunately, the blue melancholy ennui of one who has no idea where the hell summer has gone.

So as a sort of reality check, I regain my critical eye and my prying beak (excuse the bird metaphors, but I am a culture vulture after all) and am thus, again, looking for some sort of outlet or guidance or something. And this time I will actually make this blog my primary blog (I hope). But that means it's going to be a lot of personal baggage and a lot of cultural baggage... which blend together very well, actually.

So here goes nothing :D