Noms

I'm hungry. Why not just go make yourself something to eat you ask? Well, see, that's the crux of the problem. I'm not really an adequate, make myself something to eat kind of girl. I live off snack foods (as I hardly buy noodles ever). Actually, I think that bit about the noodles is perhaps more sad than admitting that I eat mostly snacky stuff. You see, it shows that I consider ramen noodles a meal. As any nutritionist would tell you, noodles is not entirely healthy for you, and does not represent a properly balanced meal. I was thinking today, that I should really get my act of learning and finding motivation to cook together, because one day I might fall pregnant (AFTER MARRIAGE, AND PROBABLY NOT FOR TEN YEARS. HOPEFULLY.), and my eating habits will affect me and the wee bairn inside me. I guess I am going to have to learn to like raw veg and fruit...

This isn't a very crucial or important blog, it just serves my purpose of procrastination, and I thought it might serve as some food for thought for those who might read it (all two of you, if that). Haha, FOOD for thought, get it?

Time to go back to sleep methinks.

Benvenuto a Edimburgo!

I believe that the past few days deserve a blog. I'm going to write this in sequential order, so as not to get confused:

Monday-6 of September

I wake up in the early morning to go workout with my trainer Kathy, I then rush home and hurriedly pack everything which isn't already packed (basically everything except my clothing). I take an afternoon flight from Portland to Amsterdam, and the man sitting next to me is Russian, and only speaks maybe four words of English. Lucky that he sat next to a girl who for nine months had to pantomime things to be understood in a foreign country. I understood him better than the internationally trained flight attendants (GO ME!). I didn't sleep at all on the flight though, which was a massive bummer.

When I boarded my next flight at Schiphol, I saw the Dutch flight attendant who was greeting people holding entry cards (required of all non-EU citizens to fill out). I asked for one, and he said

"Oh, no, this only is for non-European Union Citizens, Miss."

(At this point, I was so tired, I just sort of looked at him)

"So, you will not need this to enter the United Kingdom," he tried again (looking a little doubtful at this point).

"But, I do need one."

"Oh!" And he handed me the card without further comment.

I thanked him Dutch hoping to further confuse him (haha).

I sat down and watched him greet the rest of the passengers. What I found interesting was that he only offered the entry cards to those who looked like they weren't from Europe. I inspected my own outfit. I guess it could be interpreted as the Euro version of grunge-chic. Dark Calvin Klein jeans (yay Nordstrom Rack!), a brown and black lace cami from a independent shop in Milan with a floral print underneath a draping black top from H&M in Zurich. Finished off with brand new converse-esque shoes from Payless (gotta love that one too). My hair was braided back and the frizzies trapped down by a white beaded headband. Fine, I thought, I'll give him that. I was interrupted from my introspective examination of my outfit by two Dutch people sitting down next to me. I smiled at them, and the lady immediately launched into conversation...Dutch. "I'm sorry," I said, "I don't understand you" (all this said in English). She proceeded to try and speak to me in Dutch for the next couple of minutes. I kept shrugging, and she kept insisting. (At this point I was thinking, wow, I must really look Dutch!). It turns out, she speaks fluent English, and was surprised to find out that I was American.

Gotta love my life, huh?

Tuesday-7 of September

I don't really want to go into detail, because you all should already know the story, but I arrived to my new flat to a giant leak in the ceiling in the hallway. I cried, called my mom, cried some more, and professed my hate for Scotland (which wasn't earnestly meant, I promise). Basically, I had to stalk my neighbor, deal with Edinburgh City Council, and then that evening a plumber from Glasgow came. I spent the night at my friend Christian's flat because he had extra bedding and an empty bed (his flatmate hadn't yet arrived).

Wednesday-8 of September

Got up super early (only four or five hours of sleep at Christian's) to get back to my flat. Plumber came again. Took a long nap in the afternoon from sheer exhaustion, had hardly slept at all in the past 48 hours. Before I went to sleep, I was literally shaking. Couldn't sleep for a long time so watched the episodes of Arrested Development that I have on my iTunes.

Thursday-9 of September

Went out shopping for various household things, and to change some currency. When I got home, my lights went out, but the electrical sockets still worked. I called two different electricity suppliers (because I didn't know who mine was) and then British Gas finally told me that I am supplied by Southern Electric or something. I called them, and they walked me through some things, and then it was finally decided that it probably is a wiring problem. Great. Jamie brought my stuff round later that night, and teased me about seeing a mouse. I had a nightmare about mice in my flat. The rest of my dream was pretty cool though, I spoke in four different languages. Have never done that before :) (in a dream state).

Friday-10 of September

Opened up my boxes from Jamie's house. I HAVE SO MANY CLOTHES. I honestly don't know where I am going to put them (yikes!) Ah well, I'll make do. Tonight I am going to the cinema (I am in dire need of some comic relief). Hope that everyone is well. Love you all!

EXPLANATION: EURO GRUNGE-CHIC IS BASICALLY WHEN A CONTINENTAL EUROPEAN WEARS ITEMS THAT COULD LOOK GRUNGE, IF THEY WERE ACTUALLY GRUNGY, BUT ARE INSTEAD BRAND NEW AND NICE.

Friends, Family, and Fondue

Eff. Its that time of year again. The whole summer I have (quite) happily allowed everything to clutter up the bedroom floor. Now it is time to clean. Seriously though, I'm scared. The bedroom is massive...and, well, daunting. What if there are spiders? INSIDE OF MY STUFF.

Ew, ew, ew, ew.

Last night we went to dinner to celebrate my parent's anniversary. We went to a German restaurant, located in the, get this, HOLLYWOOD DISTRICT o

f Portland. It turned out to be much cleaner than California's Hollywood at any rate.

The food at Rheinlander was good. I think its a fitting place for my family to eat, because that is the region/area my Dad's ancestors are from (if you care to look back that far [c. 1585]). The food, especially the fondue, were delish.

The night before that, or possibly two nights, I got to meet Liz's latest boyfriend. He was nice, and they look cute together. I wish them the best of luck in their couplehood.

Not much else to report. We are sending Ben off to Stanford on the sixth of September. The same day that I leave for Edinburgh. He is so grown up now! And building a life for himself...

...Kind of like how he built these rocks.

Oh, and last week we all said goodbye to Marisa, but not before we had some sexy time in the car.

I love my ladies so much. It is hard to say goodbye! Katie is off to Eugene (aka weed capitol

of Oregon) tomorrow to start her junior year at the University of Oregon. Liz

is the same, but at the end of next week. Marisa is already back at BYU, Leilani is still goofing around in Uganda, where she has been for the last FOREVER, and Jenny is busy with her kick-butt job at St. Vincent's Hospital. Kristin is back at the San Francisco Art Institute and has a new apartment (to herself, lucky girl). For her twentieth I took her to an old tea room in Portland called the Tao of Tea.

Oh, and my last day of work is on Monday. I will be said to say goodbye. I've made so many good friends this summer. Weare actually going to have a little get together at Applebee's tonight (yay!).

There is joyous news among all of this: I AM GOING TO EUGENE WITH ADRIENNE NEXT WEEK!!!!! We go Tuesday till Friday, and I am so excited/happy/EXCITED. I get to see American college life (somewhat). I know this sounds nerdy, because I AM American, but I am really curious about American schools....

Which leads me back to the fact that I have to clean my room, so that I can pack before I go to Eugene. Eff.

Creepy and/or drunk men at work...

Ew. Self-explanatory.

B.

I a b. S, I w I w i E. W, h? T I h t g t t d o :( I i g s, I j k i. I m L a R.

Waka Waka

There comes a time in one’s life, where one must ask themselves: why did I make that odd noise when attempting to say hello to the cute boy on the road? If you are lucky, such instances teach you that maybe it is better to smile and nod. However, there exist unlucky souls (this author included) who do not learn. Instead, a general mortification follows encounters with members of the opposite sex we deem attractive. In my case, this has never happened in Scotland. Yet, my social graces have not much improved since moving here, I just have failed to spot any boy/guy/man (I hate living in the awkward in between stage, where you unsure what you are supposed to call them) who has rendered me speechless (but not noiseless [apparently]).

Why am I writing this blog? Well, over the past week I have developed an odd case of insomnia, and I am awake when I should be sleeping, and therefore thinking of things I usually never think about. The only other souls awake where I live are the party goers who were booted out of Siglo, the club across the road, at three am sharp, aka CLOSING TIME. I am counting my blessings that at least nobody is screaming, though I have heard sirens. Today is going to be murder. After finishing this I will try to sleep for a few hours, because at six I am going to be up and about doing dishes, defrosting the freezer (heaven help me), wiping down every surface I have ever touched in my flat, and composing a long note to Zoe explaining to her that, since I will be gone, it will be up to her to figure out what to do with the mountain of stuff we still possess that is not in storage or going home with us. Do I feel guilty? No. I am the one defrosting the freezer after all. I will count my small blessings though. The world cup starts in the next couple of weeks, and I will no longer be living on the Cowgate for it. I am pretty sure drunken British versions of Waka Waka (This Time for Africa) would have been my new companion if I were to stay. My lease ends the fourth of June, so even if I wanted to, I would have been obliged to leave. My heart is already crying...

Oh yes, and tonight is the YSA dance. I am regretting agreeing to go. The dance coincides with the little sleep that I do get (usually from seven in the evening until eleven at night). Also, I have no idea when the dance ends, if I will get back in time to leave for the aiport, and if I even want to go. I LOATHE goodbyes. Most everyone I will see again in September, with exception for Kent, who is leaving on his mission to London in July. But I already baked him cookies, so I feel like my obligation there is done. Plus, even though I am only leaving until September, goodbyes are awkward, and feel rather final. Maybe its because I feel like I have a tendency to change my mind really quickly, so there is a small part of me that believes I will not be coming to Scotland in September. I already signed my lease though, and I sort of need a degree. I'll be back. In the mean time, I need to sleep. So here I am, insomniac 'noveau' signing off and wishing you goodnight. Even though I already know nobody reads this, so its rather like my own personal journal. With the possibility of being read, but since you risk that possibility of being read anyways, even in a private diary or journal (anyone with siblings know this), it is sort of the same difference....

I digress. Good night.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M3pFT4-i8os

Edinburgh in retrospect

Holyrood Park

St. Giles Cathedral (right up the street from my current flat)

9 Days until I fly to Portland. HOLY COW!!! I had NO idea that it was that close. To honour this, my last week in Scotland until September, I am doing a post on the past academic year in Edinburgh, and what it has taught me.

1) Haggis=not so terrible, its just you know that it is sheep entrails and internal organs all mashed up and ground into the stomach and cooked for near to three hours. Yes, that ruins the taste. I'm sure cannibals found human flesh tasty, but if you unwittingly fed a person human leg, they would find it good (in theory, I have never tried this) until you told them you had killed your neighbour to bring them this scrumptious delicacy.

2) Fried Mars bars. Yes, they do exist, and yes, you should probably not try to eat one yourself.

3) Wintertime is incredibly awful. I know I was warned by fourth year international students, but I wasn't expecting to be so miserable that I wrote a last will and testament and dark poetry in case my body was consumed by cold, damp, and all together miserableness.

4) Springtime is beautiful. Whenever I walk places, I always try and cut through the meadows. A tree with some sort of blossom lines nearly all of the walkways, and I feel like Anne of Green Gables for a moment.

5) Scottish people, though often unintelligible to the American ear, can be understood through PRACTICE, PRACTICE, PRACTICE.

6) The University of Edinburgh will never make your life easy with a set of simple instructions. Instead, you must figure it out for yourself, and hope you got it right. If not, then good luck mate.

7) Primary=awesome

8) If you leave the UK for a month, when you come back, there will be at least two new chocolate flavours (much to my delight).

9) Kilts, unless worn for a formal occasion, are more a ploy to get tourists to give you money, or if you're a sleaze, that other thing...you know what I'm talking about.

10) The underground tours are scary, but oh so worth it. Especially when you find out you live right next door to underground caverns where Scottish Godfather type figures used to rule the slums. I imagine their power ploys went along the following lines:

'Are you a McLeod?'

'No sir, I was just trying to find me mum.'

'Get out of here lad! Get back to yer mum before I slice your ear to sell off to them students at thet university there.'

(boy stuttering) 'I'm so sorry, please don't hurt me. I was just trying to find me mum, but I don't ken which cave we've let.'

'I ken yer mum me thinks. Go to her before I make her into a haggis!'

Ok, so I'm not versed in Scottish or in gangster, as evidenced by the above 'dialogue' but things like that did happen.

Scotland has been interesting, I enjoy it more the longer I'm here, and I'll actually be sad to say goodbye. Thank you Edinburgh for an...enlightening year to say the least....

To look forward to in September:

1) Scottish countryside

2) My gorgeous new flat!

3) Exploring places with 'me mum' :)

4) Finally reaching sophomore year at a university ;P

xx

5 Ways....

5 Ways to make an English person angry with you:

1. Refer to Scotland and England as being the same

2. Criticize their taste in pop music

3. Stare rudely at their teeth

4. Have them repeat what they said because you didn't understand their London slang after it has been repeated. Twice.

5. Insult the royal family

5 Ways to make an Scottish person angry with you:

1. Refer to Scotland and England as being the same

2. Criticize their drinking habits

3. Stare rudely at their teeth

4. Have them repeat what they said because you didn't understand their Glaswegian accent.

5. Remind them that kilts are in fact a type of feminine skirt.