Luckily I'm not at McDonald's. But I did get a coffee there this morning.
I stayed in a 6 bed room last night with 5 50+ year old women from Lancashire. They were a riot. I decided to head to bed about 11 pm and two of the women were back getting ready for bed. We chatted a bit about traveling and they warned me about the 3 others that would be returning later that night. They'll be in a right state when they get back, they will.
I'd just about fallen asleep when the other 3 women came back. They were raucous. They talked amongst themselves for a bit, "Hush hush! There's someone trying ter sleep!"
"Who's this?"
"A girl from the States, now hush! She weren't asleep but 5 minutes 'fore you lot come in!"
"A yank! Are you a yank?"
I looked up and there was a round, rather intimidating woman standing above me, looking very intensely at my face.
"Yes I am." (I don't think I've ever been called a yank before)
"What are you doing here?"
"Well studying and traveling and studying some more. I spent 2 months studying, now I'm traveling."
"Two years studying," she repeated with a totter as she took off her pants, still standing directly over me.
"Not years, months. Now I'm traveling."
"Oh, you must have a rich daddy to fund that."
"Mostly scholarships and loans."
"Ohh, then you must be a cleaver lass. I'll be sleepin above you, hope you don't mind."
She reached for the ladder. She decided to do a lap around the room first.
"I'll have to jump! One! Two!" and she heaved herself onto the first rung. "I got a nosebleed from this height!"
One of the others said, "We warned her about you!"
"It's not my fault they put a yank under me! What's this? On my bed?"
"Your blanket you dense cow," one of the other women said and they all cackled.
She got down from her rung and reached up for her blanket, "Oh excuse me, excuse me but I'm a bit pissed drunk."
"My knickers are wet!" one of the others called. More cackling.
It was a very interesting night. I got up early and got around and pulled together my stuff and caught the bus to east London, just past London Bridge. A friend from Oxford hooked me up with a friend of his for a comfortable place to stay for a few nights.
It's 10 till 2 on Saturday afternoon and I'm sitting on a balcony looking directly over the River Thames, with the Canary Wharf district to my 10 o'clock.
At 5 I'll head back into central London to meet up with Maddy. Twice a month she serves dinner at a homeless shelter on Saturday nights and I'm going to help out. I haven't done that since I would go with Aditi and her Indian class in South Bend. That was junior high or before.
I'm drinking ginger lemon water. It reminds me of sushi just because I load mine up with ginger slices. It's a warm feeling memory of half price sushi on Monday nights with 420. Things then were wonderful. Now they're different. They're still wonderful.
I've got a fair amount of work that needs to get done and it just takes getting into the swing. So I'm about to start the swinging.
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Friday, March 20, 2009
I Own This Town.
This is the 3rd meal I've had at McDonald's.
I think I should make a documentary about how my health is effected when I spend 3 weeks eating only McDonald's for every meal. I can call it "Free Wifi Me" and chart the effects free wireless internet has on our eating decisions.
Or I can switch hostels and stay at London Central about a 15 minute walk from here because they have free wifi on site. That would greatly free up my eating options.
No one is a native English speaker here. It's just me. And one other blonde woman in line in front of me. I think we're the only ones in all of London. And I certainly do not see any traditional English restaurants. That's ok with me, but I do miss bangers and mash. It will always remind me fondly of HMC.
I survived my first night ever in a hostel. More comfortable than I expected. I shared a room with 3 Spanish people. Wonder who I'll be with tonight.
I'm trying to think of something to write about for my first article for the Fresh Thoughts section of the Indy Star blog site. Maybe a comparison of different hostels in London? Maybe travel advice? Maybe I could just ask 10 random people on the street what they think of Barack Obama direct address to Iran. Maybe I could write a bit about the backpacking culture. It's not what I thought it was. I expected to find hundreds of twentysomethings bumming around. No! There are kids and adults and even older adults than I expected. Met a woman in her 60's backpacking. That gives me the ultimate hope. Josh and I are gonna do that too. Talked to him today and he's psyched.
I do really like the music in this McDonald's. It's a lot of oldies. My nostalgic favorite.
So my next order of business on this very lovely 50 degree day is to locate my next hostel and the 100 Club where I shall be swing dancing and conducting grounded research on swing dancers. I can't wait to wander around this city with my new backpack.
I think I should make a documentary about how my health is effected when I spend 3 weeks eating only McDonald's for every meal. I can call it "Free Wifi Me" and chart the effects free wireless internet has on our eating decisions.
Or I can switch hostels and stay at London Central about a 15 minute walk from here because they have free wifi on site. That would greatly free up my eating options.
No one is a native English speaker here. It's just me. And one other blonde woman in line in front of me. I think we're the only ones in all of London. And I certainly do not see any traditional English restaurants. That's ok with me, but I do miss bangers and mash. It will always remind me fondly of HMC.
I survived my first night ever in a hostel. More comfortable than I expected. I shared a room with 3 Spanish people. Wonder who I'll be with tonight.
I'm trying to think of something to write about for my first article for the Fresh Thoughts section of the Indy Star blog site. Maybe a comparison of different hostels in London? Maybe travel advice? Maybe I could just ask 10 random people on the street what they think of Barack Obama direct address to Iran. Maybe I could write a bit about the backpacking culture. It's not what I thought it was. I expected to find hundreds of twentysomethings bumming around. No! There are kids and adults and even older adults than I expected. Met a woman in her 60's backpacking. That gives me the ultimate hope. Josh and I are gonna do that too. Talked to him today and he's psyched.
I do really like the music in this McDonald's. It's a lot of oldies. My nostalgic favorite.
So my next order of business on this very lovely 50 degree day is to locate my next hostel and the 100 Club where I shall be swing dancing and conducting grounded research on swing dancers. I can't wait to wander around this city with my new backpack.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
McDonald's Has Been Comforting Since I Can Remember
Right.
I'm in London. I checked into my hostel. It's...quaint? Yeah. That's the word for it. Quaint.
Anyway! I found the closest free wifi place and it's a McDonald's about 2 blocks down from the hostel. Awesome. I will be spending much of my time in a McDonald's. Maybe I can find a cooler (by cooler I mean healthier) place to bum wifi. But honestly, when I was wandering down the street, looking for a free wifi sticker in the windows of this and that shop, I couldn't help but sigh deeply and say to myself "McDonald's! I love you! I will eat here every day." Ew. No. Not every day but I will take advantage of all you have to offer.
I'm doing 14 things at once. Uploading pictures. Chatting. Looking up swing events. Writing out a list of things to do. Eating a double cheeseburger. Updating the minutes on my cell phone. Keeping my breathing under control. Etc. I'm also filling out a study abroad scholarship. Quite important.
McDonald's is closing. It's 11 pm. I should go to bed or something.
I'm in London. I checked into my hostel. It's...quaint? Yeah. That's the word for it. Quaint.
Anyway! I found the closest free wifi place and it's a McDonald's about 2 blocks down from the hostel. Awesome. I will be spending much of my time in a McDonald's. Maybe I can find a cooler (by cooler I mean healthier) place to bum wifi. But honestly, when I was wandering down the street, looking for a free wifi sticker in the windows of this and that shop, I couldn't help but sigh deeply and say to myself "McDonald's! I love you! I will eat here every day." Ew. No. Not every day but I will take advantage of all you have to offer.
I'm doing 14 things at once. Uploading pictures. Chatting. Looking up swing events. Writing out a list of things to do. Eating a double cheeseburger. Updating the minutes on my cell phone. Keeping my breathing under control. Etc. I'm also filling out a study abroad scholarship. Quite important.
McDonald's is closing. It's 11 pm. I should go to bed or something.
Easiest On the Bus
Writing blogs while on a bus somewhere is actually the easiest time to write. It's a set time frame. It's a transitional period. It's free wireless. The only problem is it keeps me from chatting with the other passengers. That's one of my favorite parts about traveling. I did it all the time on the trains to NY. I have a feeling I'm going to meet some of the neatest people on the trains through Europe.
This time the bus to London I'm on is going straight to the heart of London, not to Heathrow. I'm not connecting to another place. I'm not just passing through. I'm going to London.
Leaving was hard, needless to say. I packed up my room, which actually didn't take long at all. I turned in my keys. I gave more hugs. Ali, the head server in the dining hall gave me a big hug and was surprised to hear I won't be back next term. I told him I'd come and visit and hopefully I could get one of the Sebastians to sign me into a meal. He said "Ohhh, don't worry about that. You will eat on my treat!" So nice :)
Today James Kanimba and I traded a lot more music. I got 40 some new songs from him and I gave him about the same. He's very familiar with London and was able to give me some tips, pointers, and directions for getting around. He even gave me his Oyster card which lets you ride the local trains for about a pound each trip. He's from Oxford and said he might come visit me and come swing dancing too! So I'm not alone. I'm not solo. It's my country now. I've got ties.
I'm a little nervous but in an excited way. London is going to be very different from HMC. And more expensive. It's about 4:45 and I'm checking into Piccadilly Backpackers Hostel at 6. I might be a little late, but I don't think they really expect you to be there on the dot.
The free wifi is great but for some reason I can't open my emails. There are 2 very important one's I'm looking at: CCIS summer scholarships and a tuition deposit reminder. Things I need to pay attention to. I want to pay attention to them. I cannot access them at the moment. And my school email address has been giving me trouble lately. Not just not being able to open emails, but even getting into my inbox. This is NOT helpful when I'm trying to work on a project in another country.
I've got to find a laundromat. A little grocery store. A library. Any place with free wireless and cheap sandwiches. And the swing club. Man I can't wait. I can't wait to talk to people about swing dancing. This is the most exciting thing: Taking a bus to London with a proper backpack. Staying at a hostel in Central London. Being unsure and having a copy of Brothers Karamazov. Traveling. This is one of those things that I have always wanted and here I am getting it.
Today I noticed that the fountain in front of HMC's president's house, Dr. Waller, was on. First day it's been on since I've been here. There were tiny blossoms on the big tree in front of Morrison. Arlosh Quad smelled so strongly sweet with blooming flowers. The flowers bloom all winter here, but they don't have a fragrance. Today they did. The sun was (and still is) shining with such intensity. I took a very nice walk down Cornmarket with Seb A. and James. We got Cornish Pasties and coffees then sat on the steps of the Bod. Just nice. I mean, really really nice. If this isn't nice, I don't know what is, in the words of Kurt Vonnegut's good uncle. If you haven't read Man Without a Country by Kurt Vonnegut, I highly recommend it. I also recommend getting yourself a used copy of Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoevsky and reading it in a country other than the one of your birth.
It's a little bit of a tradition that has been unofficially started. Sheena got a used copy as a gift from a friend and she read it in Thailand. She gave me a used copy and I'm reading it in England. I got a used copy for Sebastian B and he's reading it in Argentina. Hopefully he'll get a used copy for a friend who's going traveling. And so on and so forth. Until there's a whole generation of travelers who are exploring human complexities through international travel and a stunning novel.
Did I already tell you about my new backpack? First of all, it's beautiful and hardcore. There are so many clips and pockets and straps and it's even got a compass and thermometer in both F and C and a wind chill chart! It's black, which is slimming, with red straps and grey trim around the shoulder straps. It's got 2 straps that clip around the waist and chest. It's got a detachable cover that can be converted into a belt pouch. It was a gift from the Sebastians. They came into my room and they were both wearing it. That's how big this thing is, it can fit up to two Europeans. I'm actually slightly small for it. The waist strap can be pulled to its tightest setting and it's still just a smidgen loose. That's ok. They didn't want to get me a girly one which was wise of them. I'm not going to carry around a purple, dainty backpack. I'm not dainty and neither is my stuff. I feel completely legit with this thing. Like a proper traveler. I just wish I could find my Nalgene bottle I had in New York. It disappeared before I moved out of Central. I'm still pissed about it. That was a serious tangible memory. That thing went on a 60 mile canoe trip in New York and I wanted it to go on a 7 month trek through Europe with me. But alas. Things come and go. Maybe it'll show back up. A lot of times things work out that way for me. Lost things and people come back to me. It's just a matter of time. That's what's so lovely about time.
It can do a lot for us.
It's 5:34 and we're pulling into London. Not much longer now. So wish me a little more luck. It's been working for me so far, all the wishes people have been sending me from back home. I think my mom's are the most effective; I'm sure shes doing the bulk of the work ;)
Oh PS. Josh and I are going to make skydiving our thing. Some couples like to go to movies or ride bikes together. Josh and I are going to extreme sport the hell outta this life together.
This time the bus to London I'm on is going straight to the heart of London, not to Heathrow. I'm not connecting to another place. I'm not just passing through. I'm going to London.
Leaving was hard, needless to say. I packed up my room, which actually didn't take long at all. I turned in my keys. I gave more hugs. Ali, the head server in the dining hall gave me a big hug and was surprised to hear I won't be back next term. I told him I'd come and visit and hopefully I could get one of the Sebastians to sign me into a meal. He said "Ohhh, don't worry about that. You will eat on my treat!" So nice :)
Today James Kanimba and I traded a lot more music. I got 40 some new songs from him and I gave him about the same. He's very familiar with London and was able to give me some tips, pointers, and directions for getting around. He even gave me his Oyster card which lets you ride the local trains for about a pound each trip. He's from Oxford and said he might come visit me and come swing dancing too! So I'm not alone. I'm not solo. It's my country now. I've got ties.
I'm a little nervous but in an excited way. London is going to be very different from HMC. And more expensive. It's about 4:45 and I'm checking into Piccadilly Backpackers Hostel at 6. I might be a little late, but I don't think they really expect you to be there on the dot.
The free wifi is great but for some reason I can't open my emails. There are 2 very important one's I'm looking at: CCIS summer scholarships and a tuition deposit reminder. Things I need to pay attention to. I want to pay attention to them. I cannot access them at the moment. And my school email address has been giving me trouble lately. Not just not being able to open emails, but even getting into my inbox. This is NOT helpful when I'm trying to work on a project in another country.
I've got to find a laundromat. A little grocery store. A library. Any place with free wireless and cheap sandwiches. And the swing club. Man I can't wait. I can't wait to talk to people about swing dancing. This is the most exciting thing: Taking a bus to London with a proper backpack. Staying at a hostel in Central London. Being unsure and having a copy of Brothers Karamazov. Traveling. This is one of those things that I have always wanted and here I am getting it.
Today I noticed that the fountain in front of HMC's president's house, Dr. Waller, was on. First day it's been on since I've been here. There were tiny blossoms on the big tree in front of Morrison. Arlosh Quad smelled so strongly sweet with blooming flowers. The flowers bloom all winter here, but they don't have a fragrance. Today they did. The sun was (and still is) shining with such intensity. I took a very nice walk down Cornmarket with Seb A. and James. We got Cornish Pasties and coffees then sat on the steps of the Bod. Just nice. I mean, really really nice. If this isn't nice, I don't know what is, in the words of Kurt Vonnegut's good uncle. If you haven't read Man Without a Country by Kurt Vonnegut, I highly recommend it. I also recommend getting yourself a used copy of Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoevsky and reading it in a country other than the one of your birth.
It's a little bit of a tradition that has been unofficially started. Sheena got a used copy as a gift from a friend and she read it in Thailand. She gave me a used copy and I'm reading it in England. I got a used copy for Sebastian B and he's reading it in Argentina. Hopefully he'll get a used copy for a friend who's going traveling. And so on and so forth. Until there's a whole generation of travelers who are exploring human complexities through international travel and a stunning novel.
Did I already tell you about my new backpack? First of all, it's beautiful and hardcore. There are so many clips and pockets and straps and it's even got a compass and thermometer in both F and C and a wind chill chart! It's black, which is slimming, with red straps and grey trim around the shoulder straps. It's got 2 straps that clip around the waist and chest. It's got a detachable cover that can be converted into a belt pouch. It was a gift from the Sebastians. They came into my room and they were both wearing it. That's how big this thing is, it can fit up to two Europeans. I'm actually slightly small for it. The waist strap can be pulled to its tightest setting and it's still just a smidgen loose. That's ok. They didn't want to get me a girly one which was wise of them. I'm not going to carry around a purple, dainty backpack. I'm not dainty and neither is my stuff. I feel completely legit with this thing. Like a proper traveler. I just wish I could find my Nalgene bottle I had in New York. It disappeared before I moved out of Central. I'm still pissed about it. That was a serious tangible memory. That thing went on a 60 mile canoe trip in New York and I wanted it to go on a 7 month trek through Europe with me. But alas. Things come and go. Maybe it'll show back up. A lot of times things work out that way for me. Lost things and people come back to me. It's just a matter of time. That's what's so lovely about time.
It can do a lot for us.
It's 5:34 and we're pulling into London. Not much longer now. So wish me a little more luck. It's been working for me so far, all the wishes people have been sending me from back home. I think my mom's are the most effective; I'm sure shes doing the bulk of the work ;)
Oh PS. Josh and I are going to make skydiving our thing. Some couples like to go to movies or ride bikes together. Josh and I are going to extreme sport the hell outta this life together.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
I'm Wearing Green to Celebrate St. Patrick's Day
And going to Dublin.
Both are important steps in really getting a feel the celebration. Apparently St. Patrick's day is celebrated with more enthusiasm in several places in the US than in Ireland itself. Dunno why that is, but I'm not too worried about it. It'll be like going to Punksutawny for Groundhogs Day.
Me and the three Boston U. students I'm going with met up at 7:40 this morning to catch the 8:05 bus to Heathrow. I brought a bag of apples, a french baguette, and a wheel of brie cheese. Everybody happy? Yessir.
I'm also in the midst of getting the finishing touches on my honors project for the London portion of my European Adventure. How exciting!
Most of the students are gone from HMC but there's a good bunch left who are finishing up 9th week tutorials and pre-lims. I don't really know what pre-lims are. But they're really intense. I wouldn't want to take them.
Yesterday I spent four hours trading music with James Kanimba. We met for a late breakfast at 10 and went to The Buttery. That place has won me over since my first days in Oxford when they kicked me out of their tables while I was trying to enjoy one of the best apples in the world, etc. You may remember the story. so now I've got 26 new songs on the JK mix that I can associate with several of my favorite memories and people from Harris Manchester.
I've kept a tear tally while over here. What's a tear tally? Basically every time I've bee reduced to tears since I've been here, I've put a little tally mark on a yellow sticky note that hung directly above my laptop at my desk. 19 times in 9 weeks. On average that's just over 2 times a week. But most of the tears are concentrated in the very beginning of term and the very end.
Oh, PS. I went skydiving on Saturday. It was the biggest thrill of my entire life. I jumped out of an airplane from 3,500 feet in the air. I did. I did it. There are pictures. I've got the memory. The feeling was unbelievable. I was the last one of 7 to jump because I'm the smallest. I sat next to the pilot, Jeff, and chatted with him as we took off. Very nice and comforting, thought I didn't really need much comforting honestly. It didn't take as much effort to jump out of a plane as I thought. The instructor, Luke, was incredibly lighthearted and funny which are two very important things for someone who's going to help people jump out of a plane.
``Quick note: I spent my whole bus ride to the airport on my way to Dublin describing sky diving, but it didn't save all of it. Now I must REexplain that experience before I can dive into my Dublin experience. It's all so tiring!``
Basically Skydiving is the biggest thrill of a lifetime. So far. We've established that much. I got to watch 6 people jump before me. One person, Griggs, I'd known before that day. The others I'd just met. One guy was obsessed with "manly" things. He'd referred to at least 3 or 4 things that day as being "manly" and I couldn't help but find this rather funny. Before he jumped I gave him a thumbs up and told him how manly he was. I like to think it boosted his confidence.
Luke kept calling me Scarlet and I couldn't figure out why. It was because he thought that's what my name was. Whatever. I responded to it and I was the only girl in the group so it wasn't like he could have been referring to anyone else. So I was last to go and I scooted to the door on Luke's command. He opened the door, looked out, yelled "CUT" to Jeff, who then cut the engines. He helped me situate myself in the door, had me look into his eyes and keep focused on him. Focusing out the plane isn't a great idea at this point. So, he said "chin up!" Which is the first command. Then he said "GO!" Which is obviously the second command. I hesitated for a fraction of a split second and thrust myself from the plane! I fell forward instead of onto my back and panicked for another split second until I rolled over onto my back. I looked up and watched my canopy open above me. Sweet. I didn't even get to do my count properly. From the plane you're supposed to yell "One thousand! Two thousand! Three thousand! Four thousand! Check Canopy!" I called 1000 and 2000 really on thousands 3 and 4, and watched my canopy open on Check Canopy. It's supposed to already be fully deployed by then. When I looked up, I had a nuisance. My lines were twisted. This is just a nuisance because it's easily fixed. I'd gone over the technique about a hundred times or so so I didn't freak out. I did exactly what I was taught to do, which is exactly what you do to a swing when the chains get twisted. Grab each chain in either hand, pull them apart and scissor kick your legs so that you spin around, unwinding the wind. This type of nuisance is common but needs to be fixed other wise you can't steer your canopy.
Once I'd gotten rid of the nuisance I reached up and grabbed my yellow toggles on the back of the rear strap. I looked left and steered left. I looked right and steered right. All was in order and all was silent and all was cool and all was a view from 3000 feet in the air above Swindon, England.
It was hard to read the wind that day because there was hardly any at all. That's certainly not a bad thing, it just means your landing might be a little fast because there's not wind to slow you down. All in all, my landing was awesome. There was a radio in my helmet so that people on the ground could direct me. "#6 go right. Right. Right. Release."
One guy face planted which was hysterical. Another guy almost landed in a hedge. Equally hysterical. They who face planted wasn't hurt, he'd already touched ground with his feet, he just couldn't stay on them. I came in running, taking a few steps then falling on my rear. There are some ridiculous pictures which will be posted asap.
I couldn't stop talking once I'd landed. Not too unusual but it was amplified by the adrenaline high. I'd forgotten how to gather my canopy but luckily Griggs ran out to help me. I started to pick it up and he said "No, no! You haven't made it a ball of washing yet!" Right, washing. ball it up. After jumping Luke showed us each the video of our exit from the plane that he'd taken so we could discuss what and how we did. I obviously needed work on my exit because while it wasn't bad, it wasn't optimal. It's hardest for small people because we're fighting against 80 knots of wind coming at you. Not impossible for a small person, just harder. His advice, along with more stable arms upon exit, was to eat more pies. Check. I'll do it.
Everyone from our group decided to jump again. I decided not to. The rush was overwhelming. Fantastically overwhelming. My legs were shaky. My mind was racing. I'd given many hugs. Luke got one. Babs, one of the only two women who worked there got one, even the dog, Marley, got one. In fact, Marley and I took a nap together on the couch while the others dove again. I woke up to Babs taking a photo of us. It'd been an exhausting and satisfying day.
Both are important steps in really getting a feel the celebration. Apparently St. Patrick's day is celebrated with more enthusiasm in several places in the US than in Ireland itself. Dunno why that is, but I'm not too worried about it. It'll be like going to Punksutawny for Groundhogs Day.
Me and the three Boston U. students I'm going with met up at 7:40 this morning to catch the 8:05 bus to Heathrow. I brought a bag of apples, a french baguette, and a wheel of brie cheese. Everybody happy? Yessir.
I'm also in the midst of getting the finishing touches on my honors project for the London portion of my European Adventure. How exciting!
Most of the students are gone from HMC but there's a good bunch left who are finishing up 9th week tutorials and pre-lims. I don't really know what pre-lims are. But they're really intense. I wouldn't want to take them.
Yesterday I spent four hours trading music with James Kanimba. We met for a late breakfast at 10 and went to The Buttery. That place has won me over since my first days in Oxford when they kicked me out of their tables while I was trying to enjoy one of the best apples in the world, etc. You may remember the story. so now I've got 26 new songs on the JK mix that I can associate with several of my favorite memories and people from Harris Manchester.
I've kept a tear tally while over here. What's a tear tally? Basically every time I've bee reduced to tears since I've been here, I've put a little tally mark on a yellow sticky note that hung directly above my laptop at my desk. 19 times in 9 weeks. On average that's just over 2 times a week. But most of the tears are concentrated in the very beginning of term and the very end.
Oh, PS. I went skydiving on Saturday. It was the biggest thrill of my entire life. I jumped out of an airplane from 3,500 feet in the air. I did. I did it. There are pictures. I've got the memory. The feeling was unbelievable. I was the last one of 7 to jump because I'm the smallest. I sat next to the pilot, Jeff, and chatted with him as we took off. Very nice and comforting, thought I didn't really need much comforting honestly. It didn't take as much effort to jump out of a plane as I thought. The instructor, Luke, was incredibly lighthearted and funny which are two very important things for someone who's going to help people jump out of a plane.
``Quick note: I spent my whole bus ride to the airport on my way to Dublin describing sky diving, but it didn't save all of it. Now I must REexplain that experience before I can dive into my Dublin experience. It's all so tiring!``
Basically Skydiving is the biggest thrill of a lifetime. So far. We've established that much. I got to watch 6 people jump before me. One person, Griggs, I'd known before that day. The others I'd just met. One guy was obsessed with "manly" things. He'd referred to at least 3 or 4 things that day as being "manly" and I couldn't help but find this rather funny. Before he jumped I gave him a thumbs up and told him how manly he was. I like to think it boosted his confidence.
Luke kept calling me Scarlet and I couldn't figure out why. It was because he thought that's what my name was. Whatever. I responded to it and I was the only girl in the group so it wasn't like he could have been referring to anyone else. So I was last to go and I scooted to the door on Luke's command. He opened the door, looked out, yelled "CUT" to Jeff, who then cut the engines. He helped me situate myself in the door, had me look into his eyes and keep focused on him. Focusing out the plane isn't a great idea at this point. So, he said "chin up!" Which is the first command. Then he said "GO!" Which is obviously the second command. I hesitated for a fraction of a split second and thrust myself from the plane! I fell forward instead of onto my back and panicked for another split second until I rolled over onto my back. I looked up and watched my canopy open above me. Sweet. I didn't even get to do my count properly. From the plane you're supposed to yell "One thousand! Two thousand! Three thousand! Four thousand! Check Canopy!" I called 1000 and 2000 really on thousands 3 and 4, and watched my canopy open on Check Canopy. It's supposed to already be fully deployed by then. When I looked up, I had a nuisance. My lines were twisted. This is just a nuisance because it's easily fixed. I'd gone over the technique about a hundred times or so so I didn't freak out. I did exactly what I was taught to do, which is exactly what you do to a swing when the chains get twisted. Grab each chain in either hand, pull them apart and scissor kick your legs so that you spin around, unwinding the wind. This type of nuisance is common but needs to be fixed other wise you can't steer your canopy.
Once I'd gotten rid of the nuisance I reached up and grabbed my yellow toggles on the back of the rear strap. I looked left and steered left. I looked right and steered right. All was in order and all was silent and all was cool and all was a view from 3000 feet in the air above Swindon, England.
It was hard to read the wind that day because there was hardly any at all. That's certainly not a bad thing, it just means your landing might be a little fast because there's not wind to slow you down. All in all, my landing was awesome. There was a radio in my helmet so that people on the ground could direct me. "#6 go right. Right. Right. Release."
One guy face planted which was hysterical. Another guy almost landed in a hedge. Equally hysterical. They who face planted wasn't hurt, he'd already touched ground with his feet, he just couldn't stay on them. I came in running, taking a few steps then falling on my rear. There are some ridiculous pictures which will be posted asap.
I couldn't stop talking once I'd landed. Not too unusual but it was amplified by the adrenaline high. I'd forgotten how to gather my canopy but luckily Griggs ran out to help me. I started to pick it up and he said "No, no! You haven't made it a ball of washing yet!" Right, washing. ball it up. After jumping Luke showed us each the video of our exit from the plane that he'd taken so we could discuss what and how we did. I obviously needed work on my exit because while it wasn't bad, it wasn't optimal. It's hardest for small people because we're fighting against 80 knots of wind coming at you. Not impossible for a small person, just harder. His advice, along with more stable arms upon exit, was to eat more pies. Check. I'll do it.
Everyone from our group decided to jump again. I decided not to. The rush was overwhelming. Fantastically overwhelming. My legs were shaky. My mind was racing. I'd given many hugs. Luke got one. Babs, one of the only two women who worked there got one, even the dog, Marley, got one. In fact, Marley and I took a nap together on the couch while the others dove again. I woke up to Babs taking a photo of us. It'd been an exhausting and satisfying day.
Friday, March 13, 2009
Mine's Not The Only Life That's Traveling.
I managed to patch a couple items of clothing. Namely a particular favorite sweater of mine with holes in both elbows. I got it the second summer I worked at Raquette Lake. It's grey with little pockets you can't really put anything in with tropical flowers embroidered on the back.
I managed to find homes for some of the things I didn't know what to do with. The most important thing was my Yucca plant. Let me tell you the whole story.
One morning at breakfast during second week Austin, from Ohio, was asking the breakfast regulars what he should get his English girlfriend for Valentine's Day. The normal things were suggested: chocolates, flowers, stuffed animal, what ever, etc. I piped up and told Austin that he shouldn't get her flowers. Everyone gets flowers. He should get her a plant. All the girls in attendance furrowed their brows. They strongly encouraged Austin Not to get her a plant. Maybe I'm just a little strange, but I figure a plant is better because it last longer, it's alive, it's different but still a bit of nature. Austin didn't get her a plant, he ended up getting her roses. I'm sure she loved them.
Anyway. Sebastian B, who was sitting next to me, didn't offer Austin any advice at all and never said one way or another about flowers or plants. Perhaps a week later or less Sebastian was having an absolutely terrible day. Nothing had gone the right way since he woke up that morning and nothing seemed to be able to cheer him up. So that night I had to get some pasta for dinner and I noticed that Sainsburry's had flowers in the window. So I got the pasta and picked out some particularly nice tulips. He couldn't believe that I'd gotten him flowers. First of all because he knew I prefered plants. Second of all cuz he's a dude. They don't get flowers that much, it turns out. They did the trick and made his room a little less carelessly masculine for about a week.
Later that week it was my turn for a terrible day. I was stressed and worried and anxious and just generally in a terrible state. I hadn't seen Sebastian all day and that night he stopped by to see if I was doing any better, which I barely was. He had his arms behind his back while we chatted and I figured he was "hiding" some very Very excellent Austrian chocolates that his grandmother had sent him. He'd share them with me from time to time and I figured this was one of those times.
Instead it was a foot tall Yucca plant. He'd picked it out because it reminded him of me due to it's funky haircut. And it just seemed like a plant I would like. Apparently the guy working at the flower shop offered to sell him a better one that wasn't crooked and grew it's leaves straight out the top. Sebastian refused, figuring the leaning, sideways growing one fit me better. Definitely correct.
So it's been sitting in my window since then. Today I decided that I realistically cannot travel with a Yucca, as much as I'd like to have a constant companion on my European Adventure.
It didn't take me long to decided who I wanted to give the Yucca to. Sue Killoran, Hands down. I grabbed the treasure and walked to the library office where I first met Sue. No one was there and slightly discouraged I turned to go upstairs to the library. Hopefully I'd find here there. As fate would have it, I turned the corner and there she was. I said, "Sue, now, I'm not sure if you're a plant person or not,"
"Oh, I am!"
"Well, then I'm not sure if you might have a Yucca plant or not,"
"Oh, no I don't!"
"And I wasn't sure if you would want a Yucca plant or not."
"Oh, I would!"
"Well, then I would love to give you this Yucca plant. It was a gift to me and I've enjoyed it in my room for weeks, but I'm afraid I can't take it with me. You were the first person I thought to give it to."
She said "Yes, you're right. You can't very well take it home with you. They're very strict about that sort of thing, plants, food, animals. Britain's the same way, you know. But I would love to take care of this plant, thank you!" and she gave me a big hug and said "Now, you're finished, aren't you!"
At this point I started to well up with tears a little and talk a bit about all the great stuff I'm going to get to do next, but it's still just so sad to say good bye to Harris Manchester.
She said, "Yes! The exchange students are always the hard to say goodbye to. You're like little chicks leaving the nest! We hate to see you go, but you must. You've gotten what you need here. Time to move on, and it's only right."
She gave me a warm smile and I just had to tell her how much I've appreciated her. That she was the first person to really make me feel comfortable, especially asking questions when I wasn't sure about something and that she was always so kind and really encouraging. At this point I was shedding several consecutive tears and gave her another hug. She said something like, "Oh, you soft thing!" and I think she was getting a little moist around the eyes as well.
Outside I saw Sebastian A. and he looked at me with big eyes and I quickly said "I just said goodbye to Sue Killoran and I'm such a softy." He gave me a nice brotherly hug that was super comforting and I recomposed my emotional self.
There will probably be much more of the same tonight and tomorrow.
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