I'm writing from my fort, which is the only private space to be found in this whole building. Besides the toilet. So, this past week was pretty neato. I just did the usual, you know, went to the national gallery, british museum, saw Lion King and Oliver, went to Canterbury ( I saw where Thomas of Beckett was murdered!), just your everyday normal mundane adventures. :) My favorite part was probably frolicking among some old ruins. We climbed all over them and took a billion pictures.
I love the food here. They feed me too much. I'm already up to 230 lbs. It's a little embarrassing but I can't help myself. The little chain restaurants they have here as so much better than the ones in the states. Ya, they have Burger King and McDonalds, but they are actually fancy buildings, with fresh cut flowers at every table and free wifi. The places unique to Europe serve my favorite kinds of foods. Just sandwiches on baguettes, with strange cheeses and veggies. My favorite restaurants are: Pret, Nando's, Frog, and Gelato Mio Oh, and I know I keep going on about it, but the chocolate is amazing. Amazing. I will never be able to eat Hershey's again. Never.
Another note, the men are all really good dressers here. I haven't decided if it is because they are gay, or just good dressers. You can tell europeans from americans by there clothes. They are american if they are in jeans with tennis shoes, or a hoodie. The europeans wear really attractive shoes, and fitted jeans or nice pants. Good shoes are my weakness. I feel so vain and frivolous taking such notes, but oh well. This is the bad thing about being here. I am convinced that it is the most romantic place on earth to be. The other girls agree, but we have no outlet for these feelings of love. For this reason I try to avoid chick flick movies, they can do nothing but worsen my condition.
Did I mention I live with thousands of girls and only three men? Or that awkward things happen like you're doing your laundry and your professor walks in, causing you to nervously drop your underwear? Or that I am learning that I have no sense of direction? It turns out my internal instincts suck. Whenever I swear that I know where I'm going, I find that I am wrong 50% of the time. 25% I could be right, but the other 25% I am making stuff up.
Last note: I am going to Cork, Ireland this weekend. Just me and three other girls. I'm excited. Amen.
1 comment:
I just read your blog insteadof working on my Ethics essay. Ha, and I feel it was well worth it. I'll probably feel that way until 10:00 tonight when I'm home from clogging and it still isn't done. You're cool. and lucky you get to see such attractive British men. I love you. Email me back.
BLecka
Post a Comment