There and Back Again...

Well, it's been a solid two months since I've written anything on this, so I guess it's time to catch up on everything that has transpired in my life throughout all of December and January...no big deal...at all. This might be a long one.

To begin with, I finished my first term of grad school at Durham. To celebrate term being done around mid-December (and honestly to get out of the apartment), Sara and I went to our college for their Christmas carol service. I cannot even put into words how terrifying this experience was. One of the hymns actually sounded like it should have been in a horror film. It was a deeply uncomfortable time for us, given that the entire thing felt like it could have burst into a performance of Phantom of the Opera and that would have made it less creepy. Seriously, during one organ solo, I was fairly convinced the organist was a note away from launching into the Overture.

It's been difficult for me adjusting to the weather in Durham. It's been fairly cold, and being from Florida hasn't helped me with whole "layering" concept for keeping warm. It's also really windy, like all the time. So, to sum up the weather: cold and windy. Not my forte.

So, with that being said, I did what any logical, sun-loving Floridian would do for Christmas...I went to Finland, land of sun and warmth...especially in late December...I'm a genius. For this adventure, my mom journeyed to Durham and then the two of us departed for Kittilä, Finland. To best explain the outdoor activities I willingly participated in whilst in the frigid tundra, I'm breaking down my highlights of the experience by day, as follows.

Day 1:  Rode through an arctic forest in a one-horse open sleigh...jingling bells included. This is not an exaggeration; we lived the beloved holiday classic "Jingle Bells," and oh, what fun it was...except for the whole near-frostbite thing.

Day 2 - Day 3: Piloted a sled pulled by huskies through the tundra wilderness, after which we proceeded to the snow hotel. Yes, you read that correctly, a hotel made of snow. MADE. OF. SNOW. It was very cold, and rather traumatic to sleep in, but the highlight of the experience was that we did, in fact, see the aurora borealis...very very faint, but it happened. Many much excitement. Oh, wait, better highlight - I built a fire. Yes, I, Michelle Sauer, made logs burn in a beautiful spectacle of light and warmth. I am officially ready to be on Survivor, application in progress.*

*For all of the things in this blog that are sarcastic or jokes, this one is not. I am actually working on my Survivor application. Carry on. 

Day 4: Went snowmobiling and managed not to kill myself, but my mom certainly tried to. While I was a perfect driver and kept the other member of my vehicle alive and not completely frightened, my mother's approach to snowmobiling was to just go full speed with no regard for my well-being. It's honestly impressive that I'm still here considering my mom did everything in her power to make me fly off the back of a snowmobile. Truly terrifying.

Day 5: Day five of our trip was Christmas Day. To celebrate, the entire Levi resort area had a Christmas party at a restaurant/nightclub on site. It was interesting...and by "interesting" I mean mom and I left and had a nice Christmas dinner by ourselves.

Day 6: Visited a magical reindeer farm and rode in a sled captained by a reindeer who clearly wished to do us harm. Apparently, reindeer who are friends like to race each other, regardless of what kind of doom this will bring to the passengers of the sleighs they haul. Our reindeer was one such reindeer, but we managed to not be thrown from the sled as we shot across a frozen lake in the Finnish wilderness. Hurrah for survival.

Following our adventures in Finland, I returned to Tallahassee for a magical break from the cold.The majority of conversations/activities I participated in whilst home revolved around two things: how much I miss American food and, of course, Star Wars. Saw the movie, read the theories, love all things Star Wars...I bought new dark side pajamas. Beyond the awakening of the force, let me share a few anecdotes that I think perfectly sum up my trip home.

Shortly after arriving back in Tallahassee, I got to have lunch with my mini-me, Casie, during which she gave me the ultimate birthday gift - a bottle of Chestnut Praline syrup. If you don't know how important that is to me, you've never read this blog and also know nothing of me, sooooo...I can't help you. Needless to say, receiving this gift was one of the most beautiful moments of my life, and I have made and enjoyed many lattes since.

I also got the glorious opportunity to once again taste the sweet blessedness that is Chipotle. I can't even put into words how much or even why I missed Chipotle more than anything else on earth during the three months I'd been living abroad, but God bless my dear friend Katie for accompanying me on my journey for this holy grail, and for not being embarrassed to be seen with me as I desperately begged for more cheese on my chicken bowl.

I also got the magical experience of returning to FSU to visit all of the wonderful people there that I adore. This anecdote is, of course, not related to visiting anyone, but rather about battling parking on campus, something I thought I would never have to brave again after graduating. I was with my friend Taylor, planning to go to HSF, and I proceeded to my intended hunting ground - Traditions Garage. I am apparently an incredibly aggressive on-campus parking hunter, many times exclaiming things like, "I'm not yielding!!! You better watch out!" and "No, truck, that is MY SPOT NOW!" After many much minutes stalking the garage, I found a spot...which the aforementioned truck believed would be his. Turned out the two guys walking into the garage together were going to separate cars, which prompted cheers and also my Hunger Games-esque assertion that by both getting spaces, the truck and I both got to eat that night. Taylor was scarred for life by the experience.

Yeah, these things about sum up my time at home, and then I had to leave to come back to Durham. I am currently despairing over my desire for Chick-Fil-A.

Instantly upon landing back in Europe (Amsterdam, specifically), the first ridiculous thing I noticed was, once again, people's inability to walk in any logical manner. Now, don't get me wrong, Americans aren't winning any awards for being the world's best walkers or anything, but somehow Europe is just aggressively illogical in the way they navigate themselves on foot. Will begin hosting lessons on how to walk in the near future. 

The most ridiculous thing that I've encountered since returning to the UK, however, is the gale force winds constantly attacking Durham. For reference, imagine if you will, a bird flying overhead. Then picture a gust of evil wind knocking the majestic beast of the air off his intended course and into a vaguely drunken stupor. True story. Now, in addition to this, picture me, less-than-majestic beast of the earth, being tossed about by the unrelenting winds as I trek throughout the town, every moment wondering if I'm about to be swept away to Oz. If you can't picture this on your own, please consult the following GIF, except instead of standing on a cliff draped by leaves and softly flowing hair, I'm wearing six layers and tripping over cobblestones...and also being strangled by my violently whipping hair.

Now, let's return to Star Wars, because I think we can all agree that's the most important thing that could be discussed. Forget the fact that I'm in my second term of my MA program, the most impressive accomplishment I have made since returning to Durham is convincing my friend Bill, who has somehow never seen Star Wars in his life (shock and dismay), to watch all seven films with me this month. To mark time until his life changes, I have made an online countdown. Anyone who would like to share in this momentous occasion can count down with us at: Bill Watches Star Wars!

Now, very few people in this world have probably experienced or can remember just how obsessed I once was (and honestly still am) with Star Wars, but for those of you that were privy to my rampant childhood fandom (I'm looking at you, Natalie), you'll probably wonder how the conversation regarding Bill's lack of Star Wars viewing went...well, it was something like this...

And that's about it for now, stay tuned for my more and more infrequent stories about life in the UK!

Birthdays, Thanksgivings, and Spoons...Oh My

Walking around in Durham is something akin to navigating Disney World...blindfolded...whilst also limping and mildly weeping, which causes further dehydration than is standard at Disney. Somehow, and honestly no one I know is sure how, no matter where or how you are walking, you're doing it wrong. I have tested this idea in pretty much every situation you can imagine. At first, I thought it was an "I'm American" problem, but no, it's just impossible to walk. Correct me if I'm wrong, but as children weren't we all taught that if you're walking multiple people across and someone is walking the opposite way, you revert to single file to create space and not push the other person off into the street and oncoming traffic? Well apparently that is not standard practice here. Groups of three will walk completely across the sidewalk and apparently expect me to either jump into the street and brave the traffic or sprout wings and fly overheard in order to continue my journey. I legitimately cannot even explain the severity of this situation, it really is something you have to experience yourself to truly understand, but suffices to say that it's a problem perpetrated by UK pedestrians, the logic of which is absolutely unfathomable. Also, much like Disney World, they use strollers as weapons. No joke...*woman proceeds from store using stroller to shed the blood of her enemies in the street*

Ok, thank you for going along with me on that rant. It's been several weeks actually since I've blogged, in which time I have turned 23, completed my first grad school assignment, and successfully co-hosted Thanksgiving in a foreign country. Many much has happened. Let's get started.

Celebrating day of birth without my family and, most importantly, the Cake Shop, was a new and strange experience. Clearly mostly upset about missing the cake...sorry, Mom. But it was a fun weekend. Durham Lumiere was going on, which was pretty spectacular. Lumiere is a city-wide evening light display that Durham puts on every other year. It features a light show on the cathedral, in the cathedral, various displays throughout the bailey area, and odd whale-like flying light creatures in the market. Kate the Great also visited for my birth week. As expected, we had various adventures, which included a day in York. We had a wonderful time waking up for 7:36am train to York and began the day which included going on the York Dungeon Tour, visiting York Minster, and walking endlessly in the cold rain. Whilst standing in the rain, shivering, waiting in line to get into the Minster, one of my many brilliant exclamations was, "I just want an interactive experience that includes both heat and also sitting down." Our train back to Durham was at 7:36pm, and around 4:30pm, we walked to the station to try to change our tickets because we were so cold and damp, and we realized we had already exhausted everything to do in York. Sadness. Changing ticket time is apparently a big deal, so we wound up sitting in a pub talking about Survivor and judging people around. So all in all, it was a great day.

The following weekend, Sara and I agonized for hours over whether or not we were actually going to host Thanksgiving with a few of our friends. We finally decided to just go for it, and it was honestly pretty freaking wonderful. I cooked a turkey. Yep, that was me. Sara made many much pie, the likes of which I have not yet experienced in my life and her apple pie fundamentally altered the way I see the world. We also put on an American football game to entertain our British friends, and I pretended to both understand and enjoy...however unsuccessful I may have been. But all of this is say that we are officially champions of triumphing the American holiday in the UK, and I'm pretty proud of our awesome Thanksgiving efforts. Look at us all adulting and stuff. 

This all finally brings us to last night, when Sara and I decided to attend a formal dinner at Hatfield, our college. These dinners happen twice a week, require nice dress (including academic gowns), and there are only 20 seats available for post-graduates, so you have to sign up to attend ahead of time and you sometimes don't get a spot. For perspective, the last time we attempted to be social and attend one of these dinners, we were about 6 spots down on the waiting list because we didn't sign up fast enough. Tonight, we were the only post-grads. Only two post-grads signed up for this dinner. It was us. Making friends attempt = failed. Anyway, so we go to the dinner, and all of the undergraduates begin to take part in what we have been told is a fond Hatfield tradition that consists of essentially just beating the living hell out of a spoon on the table to create as loud a sound as possible. Sometimes they do this is familiar rhythms and occasionally break into "We Will Rock You." This continued for a total of 11 minutes. Yes, you read that correctly. 11. Minutes. ELEVEN MINUTES.

MINUTES. 

WHY. 

Sara threatened to leave. I didn't blame her. But we stayed, even though I had some mild hearing loss by the time the seemingly endless spoon beating came to a halt. I can't help but think that the kitchen staff at Hatfield, or whoever handles the utensil care just absolutely hates everyone who participates in this ridiculous ritual. And it really is just that - simply ridiculous. In what weird world is mindless spoon beating a worthwhile bonding experience for university students? Who came up with this? And more importantly, why on earth is it still happening? Part of me thinks this was all part of some odd conspiracy to torture us in our sad attempt to make friends within our college. It's like there was some meeting where all the undergrads attending formal were like, "Oh my gosh, there are only two post-grads going to formal and they're American, now is our chance to torment them. What should we do? BEAT SPOONS ON TABLES FOR ELEVEN MINUTES, YES! - IT'S BRILLIANT!!!" To which Sara and I were all like: 

I think my liberal use of images within this post accurately captures how done I was with the spoons.

So, that pretty much sums up the last few weeks here: people can't walk, Thanksgiving is awesome, and spoons are evidently instruments of psychological torture. 

Coffee Complexities and the Christmas Conundrum

Ok, so I'm a little late discussing this material as "this week," but regardless, the following is actually ridiculous. I'm also sorry that I'm so terrible at keeping up with a blog...

One of my favorite days of the year has come again: the day that Starbucks brings back holiday drinks. As anyone who knows me well will recall, when Starbucks introduced their newest holiday drink last year, the Chestnut Praline latte, it was essentially a religious experience for me. I believe my exact words were, "it's as if I created my perfect drink in my mind and Starbucks figured it out and then made it specifically for me..." or something along those lines. So this year, I got the email that holiday drinks were back and Sara and I went off to the nearest Starbucks to celebrate the most wonderful time of year.

Yeah, there's no Chestnut Praline. I had to settle for Toffee Nut. Just take that in for a moment.

                                                         Toffee. Nut. Disappointment.

It's bad enough that my local Starbucks isn't serving my beloved Chestnut Praline this year, but it just adds insult to injury that the best replacement they could come up with is Toffee Nut...that's like a year-round option anyway if you just ask for it. Such sadness. But now begins the process of either locating a city in the UK that does have Chestnut Praline or paying off someone we know who works at Starbucks to send a bottle so I can force an unsuspecting barista to make my latte. I anticipate that wouldn't get any strange responses...at all.

Moving on from this heartbreak, let's discuss for a moment the absence of Thanksgiving in this country and the unexpected repercussions of that. Obviously I understand that Thanksgiving is an American holiday, and I was in no way expecting people to be celebrating here or to see pumpkin pies and turkey decorations everywhere. I was also not expecting, however, to walk into town the day after Halloween and find myself in a winter wonderland complete with wreaths hanging overhead and Santa window displays. This isn't an exaggeration...pine branches and twinkling lights are literally everywhere already, and I don't know how to handle it because it is simply not time for my Michael Bublé Christmas album to be on repeat yet. Now, all I ever want is to be surrounded by Christmas lights, pine scented everything, and trees covered in beautiful gold and silver ornaments...I was just not expecting it on November 1.

So that's where I stand right now: amid a gorgeous display of Christmas cheer that I refuse to acknowledge or embrace until after Thanksgiving...disappointing toffee nut latte in hand.

Also currently toying around with the idea of declaring our apartment a sovereign nation....

Sarichellia's flag would be a block of cheese on a deep purple background. Musings.

October isn't Oct-over...But the Magical Wifi Certainly Is

Today was a dark day in our flat. The magical wifi, of which I have previously written, has come to a sad and tragic end, leaving us with one week left before our new wifi will be active. Still baffled by the amount of time it takes to get basic services like this taken care of in this country.

Up until today, I had been pretty proud of myself and optimistic about my triumphs over technology. As anyone who knows me will know, I have a profound connection to my television shows. Like a sincere attachment. It's kind of a big deal...I have literally cried watching Castle...on numerous occasions...I don't even care. With this being said, it should be pretty obvious that I'm rather distraught without direct access to my shows and the ability to keep up with them weekly, as I have grown accustomed to doing. Cue creative thinking and problem solving.

Everyone's first instinct at the juncture of "New City" and "American TV please" is to consult Netflix, yes? Yes. I figured that until I found acceptable ways to get my shows, I could just binge older episodes of New Girl and Community. And then I logged into Netflix, only to find that certain shows are simply unavailable from the UK. Among them: New Girl...Community. Sigh. But really, I can figure this out, right? Right. Turns out there's a happy little proxy server called "Hola" that allows me to trick my computer into believing that I'm still in the US. Turns out also that using this proxy server and having DIRECTV back home is the ultimate combination that lets me watch all of my shows on the channel websites by logging in. Since this discovery, I have cautiously and successfully convinced Sara that Survivor (yes, I'm still watching. yes, I still want to be the sole survivor someday) is worth looking forward to weekly, and that ABC sitcoms really aren't the worst thing ever. We can also get American Netflix, and are able to stream Castle from the beginning...you know, for the purposes of getting Sara caught up on all 7 seasons so she can watch season 8 along with me...certainly not because re-watching Nathan Fillion's antics over the last seven years makes my heart smile... :) That might be my biggest accomplishment of the month so far, just by the by, converting Sara into a Castle fan. Forget surviving my grad classes...it's all about TV.

Ok, now for the bit that I've truly found ridiculous this week. Sara and I have been preparing for the eventual collapse of our free wifi empire by running through ideas of other things to do with our lives besides sitting on our terrible couches and streaming endless hours of Castle (this option is still my top choice regardless of other activities, FYI). Anyway, so our ideas for things to do included the usual: going out in the world and making friends (something neither of us seem too keen on how to approach even though we desperately want friends here), crocheting (an old lady talent we apparently both have), and finding the best form of non-technological entertainment: board games. I'm pretty excited about all things board games, as most know, so the task became where to find such magical little boxes of joy. The answer in Durham? Nowhere. I've been on adventures, really. There's no equivalent of Target, as desperate as I may be for it. The closest thing we have is called Wilko, and it's pretty much a sad excuse for something akin to Walmart...which I really think says it all. Amazon is also largely unhelpful in the way of acquiring board games, though this appears to be our only option at this point. I can't even find a real version of Clue...how depressing.

Why don't we all take a minute to enjoy a nice little story about how desperate I've become for a classic board game now. Today, fresh on the streets almost not comprehending life since the sudden and upsetting death of our magical wifi, I went to class and then decided to browse for board games. I took the time to find out about and locate a...wait for it...Comic Book and Game Store and Cafe in Durham. *insert puzzled and disbelieving expression here* So, alone I wander up the hill until I find said store and cafe. It looked pretty normal from the outside and then I walked in to find all the nerds of Durham sitting around a singular table playing Dungeons and Dragons. I quietly walked to the board game area...whilst they all stared at me, probably assuming I was lost and/or confused. Literally, I shut the entire motion of their game down with my mere presence. Even the barista stopped making the drink he was working on to question my arrival. I took all of 57 seconds of intense awareness that everyone was staring at me to browse their selection of board games...which I found sad and unappealing before I quickly left the establishment, praying they would forget the incident of me being there and continue with their lives, and then I basic-white-girled my way back down the hill to the nearest Starbucks...where I am currently sitting...writing this...still riddled with shame.

All of this is to say there is no viable copy of the classic board game Clue in the whole of Northern England and I cannot deal.

So that's my bit of ridiculousness for the week. I'm sure there's been much more that I've neglected to mention, but this stands out as the most humorous of my encounters this week...and by week, I mean however long it's actually been since I last blogged. Sorry for my constant inability to keep up with blogging! 

On My First Week Back in Durham

This first week has been interesting, to say the least. I'm obviously thrilled to be back in one of my favorite cities in the world, and especially happy to be reunited with one of best friends and my first ever roommate, Sara. But, in addition to all the wonderful things Durham has to offer, it also comes with a lot of confusion and flat out strange/frustrating things. All of this week's ridiculous things relate to how quickly I expected to be able to get things done here...and how I was horribly, horribly mistaken...

One of the most paramount priorities I had upon arrival was setting up a bank account because, you know, money. It's ever so slightly important. So I go to the bank pretty much the same day I arrived in Durham (September 29, or thereabouts), and was like, "Hi, yes, I will have one bank account please" and the woman at the desk was like, "Sure, no problem, the first appointment for bank account-ing is October 6." I stood there for a minute in disbelief because in the US, it's fairly simple to same-day set up a bank account (correct me if I'm wrong here) so having to wait a week to do so was just odd. So I made an appointment and left feeling very weird about the UK banking system.

I set up my UK phone service the day we moved into our new apartment (October 1), and on the same day attempted to figure out how to get functional wifi into the apartment because much like the whole bank account thing, it's ever so slightly important. So we are then told that we can't have internet until we have bank accounts, and we're like, "...k. bye." We suffer and suffer over the next several days using our phone data plans as the sole means of communication with friends and family.

And then I had enough...I determined to hack into one of the wifi networks that would appear on my list of available networks. I attempted many passwords including, but not limited to 'password,' 'password1,' 'wifiplease,' and 'givemefreewifi,' all to no avail. Until I discovered that the router that was left behind in our apartment was still active...and the password was printed on the back of the box...facepalming for days.

Many much celebrations have been had at the discovery of our free wifi, and we finally felt like humans again. Everything got sorted, we set up our bank accounts and patiently waited for our bank cards to arrive, all while praying that the magical free running wifi contract doesn't end before we get our own set up. So then today, we go to EE (this is our service provider...it's weird, just go with it) and we're like, "Yes, we would like one internet please," and EE is all like, "Sure, no problem, the earliest we can have you up and running is November 2," and we're all like:

So please join us in our chants, dances, and endless hopes that the magical current wifi holds out until then while we continue to contemplate why every service in the country takes so long to set up that it is absolutely, truly...ridiculous.

Why Ridiculous Things?

Life is difficult as an international student. Not only are you facing the same anxiety and coursework preparation as your home country counterparts, but you're doing it all while learning how to navigate a foreign world filled with challenges and different words for potato products.

This blog is dedicated to the things that I will encounter over the next year that I find to be ridiculous as an international student studying at Durham University in the United Kingdom. These ridiculous things may be strange, humorous, or even legitimately infuriating, but it's all a part of the journey, and I hope you enjoy going on it with me!