Ode to Tyler Davis

Miss Tyler Davis
She likes to teach in school
Thats why the little kiddies
Think shes pretty cool.

If they saw her at Foxfields
She'd go straight to timeout
Too bad shes getting old
And starting to gain clout.

This ode to Tyler Davis
Is way long overdue
She's my #1 reader
Without her my blog is poo.

*Happy Birthday Tyler*

Feminine Nachos.

I have been in search of Mexican food since being in England, and have been quite unsuccessful. The other day there was a spark of hope as I eyed the menu in a pub that had "Macho Nachos" listed under its appetizers. The fact that I haven't seen REAL tortilla chips since I've been here made me a little skeptical, but I decided I was obligated to order them to prove I was fully dedicated to my search. Now, I don't know how many of you have actually ever ordered MACHO nachos off of a menu before, but my experience has been that this menu item is usually a large, heaping, unusually massive pile of tortilla chips covered in salsa, cheese, guacamole, beans, sour cream, and sometimes a few other toppings if you're lucky. So, here I was patiently awaiting this appetizer, almost salivating because I'm so hungry, and I am greeted with what I can only now label a foe order of "Feminine Nachos." The waitress approached the table carrying a plate with about 7 imitation doritos covered in some cheese with a piece of lettuce on top of the cheese that acted as a pallet for a drop of salsa, guacamole, and sour cream. I offered her a half-hearted 'thank you' as she left the plate sitting sadly in front of me. It wasn't the real deal, but it was as close as I've gotten, so I made myself enjoy them, while laughing hysterically on the inside. Needless to say, my search is still on.

A SPAmazing day.

Bath is home of the Thermae Spa, which uses the natural hot spring waters of Bath, which I can only describe as liquid heaven. I don't know why I didn't go sooner. Kelly and I headed over there today to enjoy 4 hours basking in the relaxing waters of what I like to call an "adult waterpark." The spa had 2 pools [with NOODLES!], one of which was on the roof overlooking the city landscape, AND an array of scented steam rooms. The steam rooms, however, took some getting used to. When we went into the first one, it was lavendar scented, and I could barely breathe. The oxygen level felt like it was nonexistent with all the steam and the hot air in there, not to mention sitting down on the benches burned your but right off! As I sweated my way from one scented room to the next, I started to enjoy the challenge of seeing how long I could last in each. I found the key to success was not moving at all and to maintain shallow breathing at regular intervals. It almost felt like survivor training. All in all, I've never been so relaxed in my entire life (well minus a few amazing naps). I think I might have to go back for a massage before I leave as a little going away present to myself :)

The Secret Library.

Today Kelly came to visit from London, and thus I left the sheltered safety of my room to go out and take another stab at enjoying Bath. I have to say that this day turned monumental in the blink of an eye. I finally discovered the Bath Public Libary. The funny part of it is, the building that the library is in, was the first building I went into upon arriving in Bath. Unfortunately, the library is tucked into its own corner on the second floor, hidden from outsiders [ a quality that is both amazing and horrible at the same time, since I myself am an outsider, but love the idea of having my very own "secret" library]. Anyway, so today I received my very own Bath library card, so far my most treasured souvenir. Don't you wish you had my life?

"One of the advantages of being disorderly is that one is constantly making exciting discoveries."

I always C myself into A and B conversations.

I was on the good ole bright oranage bus today, where I seem to spend the majority of my time in Bath, and I couldn't help but overhear the conversation of the girls standing next to me. What first peaked my interest was that one of the girls had an accent that was ALMOST American, but there was something that just wasn't quite right. So there I was trying for the life of me to figure out where she could be from, looking at the brand of her clothes, and any other hints that might be lurking around. You could call me Nancy Drew. Anyway, she was describing a date she had gone on recently and I had to laugh and put a hold on my investigation. Here's a recap of the best first date conversation ever:

Girl: So do you have any dogs?
Guy: No
Girl: Well, would you consider yourself a dog or a cat person?
Guy: I guess a dog person.
Girl: Why is that?
Guy: Because you can actually say that you like other people's dogs, but you can't ever say that you like someone else's cat. I mean nobody even understands why cat owners like their cats let alone other people.

Think of the most ridiculous things you can. Welcome to my reality.

Right now I am so angry. I mean I am seriously mad, annoyed, crossed, vexed, irritated, indignant, irked; furious, enraged, infuriated, incensed, raging, fuming, seething, beside myself, choleric, outraged; livid, up in arms, foaming at the mouth ANGRY. There are not even enough words to describe how aggravated I am.

I realize that 99.9% of my frustration is derived from my 4,000 word group report that I can't even begin to account for. Instead, I'm going to take my frustration out on the newly posted rules on internet use in the dorms.

My favorite part about the whole situation is that the new banned items were revealed to us today in an email that starts out by innocently stating: "We have updated the Frequently Asked Questions area relating to use of ResNet," as if the university did some minor tweaking of the website.

I then read further down and I find that we are no longer allowed to:

1. Listen to shared music on itunes because it is considered breaking copyright laws. (I personally am a little confused as to why this is infact a feature on itunes if it is illegal?)
2. Set up our own radio station, including podcasts, because it is illegal without the correct license. (How I miss my podcasts...)
3. Use Skype (not new news, but still ludacris.)
4. Watch dowloaded or streaming television shows. (goodbye grey's, lost, and ugly betty)
5. Watch any type of video, including those on YouTube (taking away YouTube is like taking away drugs in the 70s)

Then there is of course my favorite line of the whole email:

"Remember we will suspend the connection of anyone whose computer breaks our rules."

To be honest, YOU MIGHT AS WELL SUSPEND MY CONNECTION. I'm actually surprised they didn't suspend facebook and instant messenger while they were at it! I feel like a five year old. I bet my mom is in cahoots with the university trying to get me away from my computer and out into the fresh air.

"You become what you think about all day long."

I was actually just thinking about how I am probably the most pessimistic person alive. My Dad's goodbye gift to me when I came to study abroad was a book entitled "The Little Gold Book of YES! Attitude: How to find, build, and keep a YES! Attitude for a lifetime of success" Unfortunately I never made it past the first chapter, which is mostly endorsing copyright of the phrase "YES! attitude.” Which probably means I could get in trouble for even blogging about it. You would think, however, that the author would applaud the fact that I have made it to the first step of the recovery process: admitting I have a problem. Well, I'm assuming that the book probably outlines some sort of cycle like the stages of grief or the 12 steps to recovering from alcohol abuse. I might have to glance over it on the plane home in case my Dad asks. In my defense, however, I find that when you have a pessimistic attitude, you don't expect anything, and when you don't expect anything you are pleasantly surprised by what you get.

Ok this is hilarious. I just opened the book, now that I've actually been talking about it, I peaked my own interest. This is the page I blindly opened to:

"FUNNY SELF-TEST: What are your first thoughts? What are your first responses? How do you react to ordinary situations? What do you say? Can you think funny? Can you create a smile? Can you elicit one? What about your eight hours at work? Where's your sense of humor there? How does work impact your sense of humor and your sense of funny?

CAUTION ONE: Funny is not to be confused with cynical.
CAUTION TWO: Funny is not to be confused with biting humor."

...so now I'm a pessimist and I'm not funny. great.

No turning back now.

So this morning I my alarm went off at 8:15AM, and of course I rolled out of bed at exactly 10:15AM. I realized that today was the day I decided I would finally go to church. It has been looming over my head ever since I've been here, and TODAY was the day I was actually going to take action. This late start didn't really help my motivation, but even I was starting to grow tired of all my excuses. So I put on pretty much the only pair of pants I own here that aren't jeans and a suitable shirt, and headed out the door. I decided it would be interesting to experience Bath Abbey, which isn't Catholic, but rather is the Church of England, which I don't really fully understand, but I figured I am in England, so why not? So I get to the church, which is exremely beautiful, large doors, stained glass, organ, the works. I made my way through the tourists, and peeked through the doors and suddenly fear crept in. As I looked in the pews, I realized that I would be the youngest person in the room. I turned to go and then was visibly having an internal conflict as I paced back towards and away from the church about five times before deciding to go in the side doors so as not be as noticible. I picked a seat in the middle, and sat down. My first victory, I had actually made it inside! A few minutes later the man next to me, who looked to be in his middle 30s (probably the second youngest person to me), turned to me and said "Hi, my name is James." I was a little thrown off because A) we were in a church where no one else was talking and B) his voice was quite booming. I returned his hello introducing myself.
Five minutes of silence, and then the conversation went something like this:

James: "So Katie, where are you from?"
Me: "Virginia"
James: "Oh! I've sold areial photos of Virginia."
Me: " Really? So what exactly do you do?"
James: "Right now, nothing."
Me: "Oh..."
2 minutes of silence...I didn't have a quick recovery for that one.

Me: Do you live in Bath?"
James: "Yes."
Me: "Well, I'm just here studying for the semester."
James: "At the university or at Bath Spa."
Me: "Bath University, I mean the University of Bath, wait is that right?"
James: "Interesting."

This is why I should never be left alone in churches, no make that should never be left alone anywhere. But I did enjoy the mass, and James turned out to be quite the singer... I was going to suggest that he join the choir after the mass ended, but he left before the sermon... apparently I scare people off? in church?

I am away from my computer right now.

HangLoosKC: You can't put up an away message that says "I'll be right back" if you are going to be away all day.
MOW36: Yeah I was trying something new.
HangLoosKC: Well, I liked your "I have stepped out to lunch" one better.
MOW36: Yes, but today I actually was out to lunch, so it just didn't feel right.

Bus Etiquette

Ok, as usual I am awkward and today I decided there is a need for some sort of bus etiquette poster to give people like me a little guidence in the ways of the world. Today as I'm coming home from uni, I boarded the bus, which was a little smaller than the "Bright Orange" which I usually ride. I made my way to the back, and realized that there weren't any seats open. I mean there were plenty of seats available, but everyone seemed to be in on some sort of a game to see how subtly they could block other people from sitting down next to them. As I walked down the aisle, I eyed my choices. There was one guy with the newspaper in the seat next to him, another with a backpack, a girl with her hand on the next seat, a guy sitting on the outside seat with his eyes closed (no one ever buys that sleeping gimmick), and then my last option a large guy whos legs took up half the seat next to him. I quickly weighed my options and went for the last guy. In his favor, at least he wasn't taking up the seat next to him on purpose. So I sat down, one cheek on the seat, and waited for the bus to get moving. Then some people I recognized boarded the bus up front in the standing area. You know the people that you say hi to and have side conversations with once and awhile, but not enough to actually know them.

Yes, so I'm sitting there and I don't know whether they see me, and if they do, do they see me looking at them? Am I supposed to wave? If I wave, then what, do I look away after that and avoid eye contact for the duration of the journey? Ok so as all of these questions are going through my mind, I realize now that its too late to wave and that I just have to pretend like I didn't see them. So I spend the 20 minute bus ride staring off into space and looking across the aisle out the window. I'm sure the person on that side of the bus thought I was staring at him for 20 mins, but I figured this was the least of my worries. As the bus finally pulled up to our stop, I realized that the people I had been avoiding eye contact with for the past 20 minutes were getting off at the same stop as me. I slowly made my way out of the bus, and then somehow passed them on the way back to the dorm... Again going with the tactic that it was too late to say hi, and planning that if they said 'hi' I would go with the 'Oh my goodness, I didn't see you guys! How are you?' route. Ok after typing all of this out, I just realized how much of an anti-social loser I am... its surprising that you actually made it this far in reading this. Next time I think I'm just going to say hi right away and avoid this whole thought process.

Always love.

These past few days have been surreal. I never believed anything like this could ever happen so close to home. I remember watching the news when the Columbine tragedy occured and I realize now that I had no clue what they must have been feeling in Littleton, Colorado. I was sitting comfortably at home in Virginia detached completely from the situation. Now eight years later I am sitting in Bath, England while Virginia Tech undergoes this tragedy and it feels so personal. I have been reading all the news articles and watching clips, and at first I didn't believe it. Here I am so far away while all of this is happening, and if I just turned off my computer it almost wouldn't be real. I didn't know any of the victims, but thinking about all the people I know who go to Virginia Tech, it is a God send that none of them were hurt. How would I have felt if it were my brother, my friend, my teacher? I just keep thinking about that over and over and I can't imagine.

It is times like this when I wish I could tell everyone in my life what they mean to me. People that I haven't talked to since high school, middle school, some even elementary school. People that are on my buddy list who probably don't even remember my name. People who smiled at me, waved to me, or did a random act of kindess. I'm sure it would be embarassing to go up to them and actually give them incidences in which they made a difference in my life, but when I think about it, there are so many people that I think deserve to hear it. Maybe one day I'll work up the courage to tell them. But for now, if you're reading this, know that you are one of them.

THE story of the stolen passport.

FLASHBACK ENTRY:
April 7, 2007
Today I was that person. You know the person that everyone hears stories about, but never thinks that it will actually be them. We had just arrived in Rome after taking a day trip to Pisa, and got off the train feeling an urgent need to locate a bathroom. Take note that I am not using the word urgent lightly here. We followed the signs downstairs to a bathroom, and one of the girls I was traveling with stayed in the hallway to watch our bags while we sped towards the entrance. When we got there we were greeted by a toll to get into the bathroom- 70 cents. In my head I'm thinking "YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME," I'm very stingy and didn't feel like giving away my precious and increasingly limited money to use a toilet. We turned around and sped back to where our bags were, grabbed them and left to venture upstairs to use the McDonald's bathroom, which was FREE. We got upstairs and were in sight of the McDonalds when I reached around to feel my bare back. I stopped dead in my tracks. WHERE IS MY BACKPACK?! I panicked. Inside that bag was my life including passport, train tickets, flight confirmations, shot record, birth card: EVERYTHING. I turned and started running back and retracing our path back towards the downstairs bathroom. Samantha, who thank goodness spoke some italian, came running up behind me, and we both searched the hallways endlessly. No sign of my backpack. We split up. About twenty minutes later: nothing. This is when I broke down. Yes in the middle of the underground, I started sobbing. Flashing through my mind was, what is the quickest way I can get the next flight back the the US. Then I reminded myself that I have no idea where the US consulate is and it was nearing 10pm so it was probably closed. This thought made me cry some more. Samantha and I made our way back upstairs, and luckily Samantha wasn't as defeated as I was. She asked someone where the lost and found was, and luckily the guy pointed us in the direction of the police station. This was probably the closest I've ever felt to God because at that moment a plain clothed officer standing outside the office said to me "Katherine?" He was holding my passport. Overjoyed I walked into the office and another plain clothed officer was sitting there with the contents of my backpack spread out in front of him. I couldnt' speak I was sobbing with tears of happiness. Samantha had to answer my questions for me. Finally after we got across the point that nothing was missing, one of the officers went into the back room and handcuffed the thief. Then the plain clothed officers, who must have been undercover cops escorted me and Samantha to their office...which was about a mile away on the other side of the train station. When we got there, I realized that I had forgotten to go to the bathroom in all the the frenzy and I was pretty much about the pee in my pants. I quickly located a FREE bathroom in the police office, and thought to myself that this situation might not have been so bad after all- it did save me 70 cents. All in all I spent about an hour in the police office as they tried to question me and estimate the value of everything in my backpack. The communication barrier might have jumbled up whatever they were writing in the report, but they did give me a copy of it. I can't wait to find someone who speaks Italian so they can translate it for me. The whole time the guy was writing it, there were about 5 other officers looking over his shoulder, some laughing some making suggestions. It wasn't until after everything was printed out and signed that the one female officer asked us IN ENGLISH if we knew how to get to our hostel... I'm guessing that I was the butt of about every joke imaginable over that past hour. Anyway we left, and I kept my passport glued to me for the duration of our trip... LESSON LEARNED.

Are we there yet?

FLASHBACK ENTRY:
April 3, 2007
When we boarded this ferry in Santorini I did not anticipate the intentions of the man sitting exactly one row and three seats to the left of me. No, I know what you're thinking- he wasn't at all attractive. We'll just call him "Papi" for short because he was definitely in that stage of his life. Anyway, at this point I was worn out from our island experience that was finally coming to a close. We had spent the past few days riding donkeys, climbing an active volcano, and contemplating the striking resemblance of our hostel's massuce to the guy in Deuce Bigalow Male Gigolo. This was our second trip on the ferry, and although the first trip was filled with screaming children who's parent's let them run wild...Papi was almost worse. Looking very innocent at first, him and his wife settled down in their seats, and for the first hour or so I hardly even noticed them. Then they came over to where we were sitting and grabbed chairs which they propped in front of them as foot rests... Now that they were confortable- it was nap time. This was the moment I was introduced to the loudest snoring I have ever heard in my entire life... I didn't even know those kind of acoustics were possible. Papi was out- out cold FOR THE WHOLE RIDE. I'm talking an eight hour ferry ride here. His face was plastered in the same expression with his mouth open wide. We tried our best to give some sort of overt signal to his wife to get her to wake him up...she didn't seem to catch on. No matter how loud we commented on the snoring or how obvious our stares were- nada- no reaction. We did everything we could to try to block out the consistent sounds coming from Papi, but our attempts were futile. Even when the NCAA tournament came on TV (random being that we were in Greece?) we just couldn't seem to concentrate. Needless to say the moment we saw lights ahead in the distance, we grabbed our backpacks and headed below deck to stand in the cargo area until the ferry docked. After all of that, all I could think about is, I can never marry anyone who snores, period.

Dear Blog, It's me Katie.

FLASHBACK ENTRY:
March 29th, 2007
I'm sitting here in the Prague Airport and I just heard a Simple Plan song ("I'm just a kid and life is a nightmare") blasting from the "Enjoy Food" station... it made me smile. Caitlin and Liz left for the airport this morning, leaving me to fend for myself for a whole day- SCARY. I walked around all day and pretty much revisited every sight we had seen since being there. I thought it was probably not a good idea to take out my guide book so as not to stand out as such a blatent tourist..even though it seemed that Prague itself was in fact ONLY tourists. Anyway it seemed like every turn I took I somehow ended up back at the Easter market/fair in the city center... I mean who was I to argue- they did sell my new addiction: chocolate covered apples! So anyway, after wandering and wandering for about 6 hours (this includes and hour of facebook at the hostel), I decided to call for a cab to the airport. I figured at least I would be able to sit in a nice warm place for awhile instead of endless walking. About 20 mins after calling for the cab, a guy with bleached hair tips shows up wearing sunglasses.. apparently he is my cab driver. He takes my suitcase, banging it on the door as we left the hostel (good thing I decided against getting the decoartive Czech easter eggs...) We go across the street and it turns out he drives the sketchiest unmarked white van I've ever seen... At this point I'm thinking this has the sniper scenario written all over it. I got into the "taxi" reluctantly and before I know it we are turning down small cobble stone streets & picking up speed by the minute. At this point I ask him, "How long does it take to get to the airport?" Keep in mind this is our first exchange of words on this journey. His response, "Spreken zie Deutsch?" GREAT. He doesn't speak English. I point to my watch, I mean I am afterall a charades champion. He says, "OH! 20 minutes." About 35 minutes later I see a sign for the airport- thank goodness. My death grip on my seatbelt loosened. I wasn't out of the clear however. We turn into the departure lane and are immediately pulled over and there are 5 police surrounding the van within minutes. The taxi driver starts frantically searching for documents and gets out of the van. The police lift up the hood of the van and pull out a flashlight to inspect. Five minutes later the "taxi" driver gets back in the van and starts talking to himself (most likely cursing, but I'm clueless at this point.) Finally the police come back and let us go. I have no idea what we were stopped for, but as soon as we pulled up to the airport I had the money ready in my hand and rapidly grabbed my luggage and ran! Yay for traveling solo?

*If only at this point I knew what was to lie ahead in my travel experiences with the police...