Happy St. Andrews Day

Today was St. Andrews Day, meaning we got the day off from classes and all museums around town were free! Julia, Caleb, and I went straight for St. Rule's tower and the St. Andrews castle. For a photo journal of our exploits click here. Fourth years gone mad!

I'm about to get on the bus to Glasgow: land of tire-irons and knife bans. See you all on Monday!

Women's Hearts Run On Gasoline

I'm going to GLASGOW tomorrow evening and then flying down to LONDON the next morning. I am looking at graduate schools, cooking a turkey, and staying with Marcus. We might even see Spamalot. Back on Tuesday! Excitement abounds!

Highlights from Glen Shee

Yesterday's trek through Glen Shee was brilliant. Fun fact: Glen Shee is called Gleann Shith in Gaelic and means 'Glen of the Faeries.' We climbed three Munros yesterday, bringing my tally up to five. Only 279 to go! If you haven't the faintest idea of what a munro is please click here.

We hiked for about 7 hours with stops for lunch and map-reading. Once the fog lifted the views were spectacular; the light is so beautiful this time of year! Everything has a very long shadow. Eat your heart out, Tuscany.

Here are some photos. Click on them to enlarge.

Surrounded by fog at the summit of the day's first Munro

The skiing in Scotland is so much better than say, Switzerland.

Panorama-mania continues. This is my favorite.

The snow was thigh-deep in some places, making me think of that poem my dad likes to recite to anyone who will listen whenever it snows:

A snow of snows
A blizzard of blizzards
with snow on the ground
clear up to their gizzards.

It is, of course, from The Berenstein Bears, but that does nothing to dimish its pure message and eloquent rhyme scheme.

I am ex-HAUSTED today. Currently holed up in bed (three cheers for wireless!), but heading to the library in a bit to work on my paper for Scottish furniture. Back to the grind.

Rolling Along [new flat, etc]

Yesterday was the first of many moving days for THE NEW FLAT. The extraordinary Caleb Calhoun helped me schlep a giant load of clothes up the hill from Andrew Melville and we laughed the whole way.

The flat is gorgeous, if wanting for closet space, and we spent the first twenty minutes sitting at the kitchen table in disbelief. Caleb pretty much summed it up when he said "I feel like we are guests and we're just sitting here waiting for the real owners to come home."

The flat is funny... there are all these switches you have to turn on if you want hot water, heat, fans, etc. It's a completely different way of living from what I'm used to, and everything seems to be geared towards energy efficiency. So far I find that it works out well, especially for one person, and the giant refridgerators and central heating of yore seem archaic and [dare I say it] wasteful.

There are two tv's though, which is kind of weird... especially when I only get one channel and all that plays on it is that one Nicholas Cage movie where he's in Vegas with Sarah Jessica Parker. Over and over again.

The kitchen is crammed with cutlery, dishes, and all kinds of pots and pans, and as it goes I felt moved to cook a big ol' dinner and invite my friends over. So, we had a little impromptu flat warming last night and it was wonderful; Laurie even made me a sweet flatwarming cd aptly called 'Flatalicious.'

I have the place to myself until February when Jamie gets here, so I did what anyone would do and pushed the two beds together to make THE WORLD'S LARGEST BED. I did some snow-angels last night before drifting off to sleep and it was glorious.

My internet access will be limited for the next two weeks or so until I can get broadband set up in the flat. Apparently it's difficult to get internet so I'm hoping I can steal wireless from the neighbors [ssssh, don't tell].

London next weekend, then two weeks of class, and then I'm home for Christmas. WHERE HAS THE TIME GONE?

love xx

TURKEY FIIRREAL

Happy Thankgiving you lucky, lucky Americans.

I just staggered home from New Hall where Casey Hull made me Thanksgiving dinner!

This Saturday I get to have ANOTHER thanksgiving courtesy of the lovely Erica Neiser, so basically it's like I never left Asheville because I still get to have two Thanksgivings! (too soon? oh, dear)

Thanksgiving is alive and well in Scotland, even though we all have to eat roast chicken because a raw turkey costs FIFTY POUNDS (um, that's 100 US dollars). Brilliant.

Anyways, I'm thinking of all of you today, but mainly I am thinking of my grandmother's sweet potato souffle. It is real nice. But you too, all of you. I love you?

HAPPY THANKSGIVING!

On Facebook

I'd like to take you on the ride I had a few minutes ago. We'll call it "A Lesson In Contrasts."

I got home from lecture today and checked facebook. Thanks to the glorious mini-feed, I was told that several of my friends had just added pictures to their profiles. First up was this gem from my buddies at Sweet Briar College who had just had the "Old South" party of 2006:

No doubt these fellas are tucking in to a giant plate of biscuits n' gravy... Nothing like a little sawmill to cure a hangover! Looking at this picture was honestly shocking for me. I haven't seen people like this in quite some time. Maybe it's the civil war hats, and maybe it's the deadly pink striped polo and blazer combo... but all I know is I really want a country ham biscuit right about now. Seriously, it felt like 20 years of being Southern slammed right down on top of me. I spend my time here covering up the accent, suppressing the use of "y'all" as much as possible, and using words like "queue" and "mobile"... but I can't deny that I know exactly what those hats mean. And I know a lot of people who wear them with pride.

Ok, moving on...

So then I saw this picture from Raisin Weekend, taken early on Monday morning during the traditional foam fight:

And all I could think was What kind of strange double life am I living? And where do I belong now? You have to remember that these kids just paraded down a medieval cobblestone street wearing costumes and carrying giant objects with long Latin inscriptions. They are from places with names like Pickletillum and East Yorkshire. Most of them have never heard of Stonewall Jackson or Cracker Barrel (both of equal importance in my mind), and yet these are the people I eat, study, and live with.

I've always been "worldly" to some extent. I've been fortunate enough to have a family that promoted travel, and when travel wasn't happening there was always copious amounts of reading to be done. I went to an international boarding school and some of my very best friends are from outside of the US. And yet... nothing can prepare you for that supreme moment of culture shock when you realize that you are totally out of context in one way or another.

I'm slowly getting the hang of life in St. Andrews. I'm learning the short cuts, the best place to get a sandwich, and how to avoid having one's umbrella blown backwards. I found a flat to live in, figured out the train system, and even managed to make some friends along the way.

But how can I ever go back? I've already experienced an inexorable change, and it took a bunch of good ol' boys in Dixie hats to teach me that. I guess it's kind of like the proverbial tree in the forest: without my Dixie hat background I could never truly feel the profound shift I've made in my soul... but without that shift I could never know how deeply rooted I am in my southern roots. And how much I love it.

I'll be honest: there is a strong vein of anti-American sentiment over here. Again, I won't go in to politics, but when I left the US I was pretty anti-American myself. I was glad to be leaving. Things were bleak, and still are to some extent, but hearing my same complaints echoing from the mouths of international students was particularly jarring, and for the most part I was reinvigorated with a new-found love for my country. Of course our leader is incompetent. We know that... 61Percent (isn't that what it is now?) of us in fact. The approval rating for the War in Iraq is at an all-time low: 37 percent. But there is a lot that is good about the US, and it took me some time away to really appreciate how wonderful we are in a lot of ways.

So, you can understand my chagrin when I saw this group on St. Andrews' facebook (for those of you who do not know what facebook is, it is a social networking website kind of like myspace. Members have a profile page with information about themselves and they have the option of supporting groups like this one, the title of which will appear on their profile):

Petition To Revoke the Independence of the United States of America

Description:
To the citizens of the United States of America, in the light of your failure to elect a competent President of the USA and thus to govern yourselves, we hereby give notice of the revocation of your independence, effective today.

Her Sovereign Majesty Queen Elizabeth II will resume monarchical duties over all states, commonwealths and other territories.

Except Utah, which she does not fancy.

Your new Prime Minister (The Right Honourable Tony Blair MP, for the 97.85% of you who have until now been unaware that there is a world outside your borders) will appoint a Minister for America without the need for further elections.

The House of Representatives and the Senate will be disbanded.
A questionnaire will be circulated next year to determine whether any of you noticed.

To aid in the transition to a British Crown Dependency, the following rules are introduced with immediate effect:

1. You should look up "revocation" in the Oxford English Dictionary. Then look up "aluminium." Check the pronunciation guide. You will be amazed at just how wrongly you have been pronouncing it.

The letter 'U' will be reinstated in words such as 'favour' and 'neighbour'; skipping the letter 'U' is nothing more than laziness on your part. Likewise, you will learn to spell 'doughnut' without skipping half the letters.

You will end your love affair with the letter 'Z' (pronounced 'zed' not 'zee') and the suffix "ize" will be replaced by the suffix "ise."

You will learn that the suffix 'burgh' is pronounced 'burra' e.g. Edinburgh. You are welcome to re-spell Pittsburgh as 'Pittsberg' if you can't cope with correct pronunciation.

Generally, you should raise your vocabulary to acceptable levels. Look up “vocabulary." Using the same thirty seven words interspersed with filler noises such as "uhh", "like", and "you know" is an unacceptable and inefficient form of communication.

Look up "interspersed."

There will be no more 'bleeps' in the Jerry Springer show. If you're not old enough to cope with bad language then you shouldn't have chat shows. When you learn to develop your vocabulary, then you won't have to use bad language as often.

2. There is no such thing as "US English." We will let Microsoft know on your behalf. The Microsoft spell-checker will be adjusted to take account of the reinstated letter 'u' and the elimination of "-ize."

3. You should learn to distinguish the English and Australian accents. It really isn't that hard. English accents are not limited to cockney, upper-class twit or Mancunian (Daphne in Frasier).

You will also have to learn how to understand regional accents --- Scottish dramas such as "Taggart" will no longer be broadcast with subtitles.

While we're talking about regions, you must learn that there is no such place as Devonshire in England. The name of the county is "Devon." If you persist in calling it Devonshire, all American States will become "shires" e.g. Texasshire, Floridashire, Louisianashire.

4. Hollywood will be required occasionally to cast English actors as the good guys. Hollywood will be required to cast English actors to play English characters.

British sit-coms such as "Men Behaving Badly" or "Red Dwarf" will not be re-cast and watered down for a wishy-washy American audience who can't cope with the humour of occasional political incorrectness. Popular British films such as the Italian Job and the Wicker Man should never be remade.

5. You should relearn your original national anthem, "God Save The Queen", but only after fully carrying out task 1. We would not want you to get confused and give up half way through.

6. You should stop playing American "football." There are other types of football such as Rugby, Aussie Rules & Gaelic football. However proper football - which will no longer be known as soccer, is the best known, most loved and most popular. What you refer to as American "football" is not a very good game.

The 2.15% of you who are aware that there is a world outside your borders may have noticed that no one else plays "American" football. You will no longer be allowed to play it, and should instead play proper football.

Initially, it would be best if you played with the girls. It is a difficult game. Those of you brave enough will, in time, be allowed to play rugby (which is similar to American "football", but does not involve stopping for a rest every twenty seconds or wearing full kevlar body armour like nancies).

We are hoping to get together at least a US Rugby sevens side by 2007.

You should stop playing baseball. It is not reasonable to host an event called the 'World Series' for a game which is not played outside of North America. Since only 2.15% of you are aware that there is a world beyond your borders, your error is understandable. Instead of baseball, you will be allowed to play a girls' game called "rounders," which is baseball without fancy team strip, oversized gloves, collector cards or hotdogs.

7. You will no longer be allowed to own or carry guns. You will no longer be allowed to own or carry anything more dangerous in public than a vegetable peeler. Because we don't believe you are sensible enough to handle potentially dangerous items, you will require a permit if you wish to carry a vegetable peeler in public.

8. The 4th of July is no longer a public holiday. The 2nd of November will be a new national holiday, but only in Britain. It will be called "Indecisive Day."

9. All American cars are hereby banned. They are crap, and it is for your own good. When we show you German cars, you will understand what we mean.

All road intersections will be replaced with roundabouts. You will start driving on the left with immediate effect. At the same time, you will go metric with immediate effect and without the benefit of conversion tables. Roundabouts and metrication will help you understand the British sense of humour.

10. You will learn to make real chips. Those things you call 'French fries' are not real chips. Fries aren't even French, they are Belgian though 97.85% of you (including the guy who discovered fries while in Europe) are not aware of a country called Belgium. Those things you insist on calling potato chips are properly called "crisps." Real chips are thick cut and fried in animal fat. The traditional accompaniment to chips is beer which should be served warm and flat.

Waitresses will be trained to be more aggressive with customers.

11. As a sign of penance 5 grams of sea salt per cup will be added to all tea made within the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, this quantity to be doubled for tea made within the city of Boston itself.

12. The cold tasteless stuff you insist on calling "beer" is not actually beer at all, it is lager . From November 1st only proper British Bitter will be referred to as "beer," and European brews of known and accepted provenance will be referred to as "Lager." The substances formerly known as "American Beer" will henceforth be referred to as "Near-Frozen Gnat's Urine," with the exception of the product of the American Budweiser company whose product will be referred to as "Weak Near-Frozen Gnat's Urine." This will allow true Budweiser (as manufactured for the last 1000 years in the Czech Republic) to be sold without risk of confusion.

13. From the 10th of November the UK will harmonise petrol (or "gasoline," as you will be permitted to keep calling it until the 1st of April) prices with the former USA. The UK will harmonise its prices to those of the former USA and the Former USA will, in return, adopt UK petrol prices (roughly $6/US gallon -- get used to it).

14. You will learn to resolve personal issues without using guns, lawyers or therapists. The fact that you need so many lawyers and therapists shows that you're not adult enough to be independent. Guns should only be handled by adults. If you're not adult enough to sort things out without suing someone or speaking to a therapist, then you're not grown up enough to handle a gun.

15. Please tell us who killed JFK. It's been driving us crazy.

16. Tax collectors from Her Majesty's Government will be with you shortly to ensure the acquisition of all revenues due (backdated to 1776).

Thank you for your co-operation.


... Now, I understand that this is written to be funny (right?), but I couldn't help but be wildly offended at several points. I guess what I don't understand, and maybe this is a childish response to someone's elaborate joke, is why someone would write something like this when they obviously haven't been to the US. I mean, maybe they've been to New York City, but as we all know NYC could be any small European country (but we'll take The New Yorker and the Met for America, please) as far as true American-ness goes ... I really don't know what I'm trying to say... I guess it's just that there is so much good in the US and I'm afraid that popular opinion is going to make it obsolete.

My American friends: Chin up! Just because Madonna fakes a British accent doesn't mean you have to.

My British (and other) friends: cut us some slack. We're actually pretty cool if you can take a minute. We just want to know about your culture. So we can invade you. I MEAN WHAT?!

PENCILS DOWN

I have to give a presentation tomorrow morning in my Jane Austen class. I am talking about Patricia Rozema's 1999 film adaptation of Mansfield Park and how it treats the Burkean ideal of the "big house" and the patriarch. Edmund Burke AGAIN? Geez. As far as I'm concerned this class should be called EN4005: Novels You Have Already Read, But This Time In The Context of Edmund Burke.

Raisin weekend was AMAZING and so much fun. I'm waiting for pictures to appear on facebook so I can post them here. My photos are... lacking. I had a wonderful time with Julia, Rachel, Bridget, and Caleb. Rachel was a superb mum and made me feel like I was 18 years old again! Oh, peer pressure.

I've got two big pieces of news:
1. I have an interview on December 7th for the museum job (Danger!)
2. I AM MOVING INTO A FLAT TOMORROW

Here are some photos. It is just about the cutest place EVER. And I don't use the word "cute" liberally.
This is the lounge. The flat comes fully furnished (most in the UK do), so I get to call that fabulous armoire my very own for 6-12 months. It's a fourth floor walk-up in an Edwardian building. That bay window looks out over the street and lets in plenty of golden Scottish sunshine.
This is the kitchen, with beautiful hardwood floors, a window-seat, and a sweet view over town. There is even a washing machine! Heaven!

I can't even express how excited I am about living here. I'll post more pictures once I have settled in. Everyone can come visit me now that I have a proper house! I can make you dinner and give you a bed to sleep in. Life is good!

Apocolypse Right Now

This weekend is Raisin Weekend. What does THAT mean, you might ask. Well, here is a lengthy description from our student website called The Sinner:

Raisin Weekend Raisin Weekend is centred around the unique St Andrews tradition of the "academic family".

Each first year (or at least those who choose to take part - it is not compulsory) is adopted by an academic mother and academic father - who are usually, but not always, in their third or fourth year. In one form or another, Raisin Weekend has been around since the very earliest days of the university. It was, and still is, a "rite of passage" for new students.

On Raisin Sunday, first years spend the day with their academic parents. First of all, they attend a tea party with their mother at which, traditionally, not much tea but a great deal of alcohol is consumed. Later, the children are collected by their fathers and the evening is spent in the drinking of yet more alcohol.

In return for their parents' kindnesses, the first year is expected to give them each a bottle of wine. This is deemed the modern equivalent of a pound of raisins (actually, the modern equivalent of a pound of raisins IS a pound of raisins) which was the usual gift way back in the mists of time when students had a bland diet (has this changed much?)

On the following day (handily called Raisin Monday) and after being woken up, sobered up, cleaned up, and dressed up in outlandish clothes, freshers are presented with their Raisin Receipts. These are written in Latin and is a way of acknowledging the gift of raisins. They always used to be on parchment. Nowadays, almost certainly, the receipt will be something large, embarrassing and cumbersome which has to be carried around.

The gift-giving does not end here. Academic mothers give each of their children "Raisin Strings" with a small gift attached. The gift or "favour" is supposed to reflect the personality of the child. The number of Raisin Strings depends on the status of the mother. It is one string per year of matriculation - blue for first year, crimson for second, gold for third and black for fourth. These strings, with gift still attached, will eventually be tied to the child's gown hooks.

After all this largesse, children are paraded through the town until they arrive at Sallies Quad. En route, third years, fourth years and graduates of the university (if they are wearing their gowns) can stop any fresher and examine their Raisin Receipt. If they find a mistake in it then they can demand that the Gaudeamus be sung as punishment. Once at Sallies Quad, between 11 and 12 o'clock, a foam fight nearly always breaks out - it's almost traditional. The striking of 12 o'clock means the end of the fun for another year, and sees students slowly drifting off. Parents perhaps to have photos developed. Freshers, almost certainly, to sleep.

So what does that mean for me? All I know is that I'm going to four parties tomorrow. I guess the rest remains to be seen. I am simultaneously a "child" and an "aunt" in various academic families. I'll have a big ol' entry to sum it up for you in a couple of days.

Last night the Andrew Melville Committee threw a midnight black-tie screening of the new James Bond film. We went en masse and sippled free martinis in the upper balcony while watching Daniel Craig frolic around Montenegro in various stages of undress. Fabulous!

I am EXHAUSTED tonight and Raisin Weekend hasn't even started yet! Danger.

General Uproar

There was such a backlash after my last post -- so many people saying "Lauren! Please update your blog! I don't know what I'll do without your cynical, biting observations! MacNorthup is my homepage!" -- that I decided I better drag myself out of bed and deliver. So here's one for you, the people, and it even has pictures.

First of all, I got bangs:

I know, right? Incidentally, "bangs" are called "fringe" in Scotland and calling them otherwise will get you laughed at.

I'm back in St. A's after some time away and I've found that it was exactly what I needed to really appreciate where I live. St. Andrews has become my home now and I'm ok with that. I turned in my [crap] essay for Jane Austen class on Monday morning and spent the next hour or so just walking around, admiring the cobblestones and snapping photos. The weather was lovely, the leaves are a-changing, and have I told you that the view from the English building is CASTLE RUINS? See for yourself:


I was so happy to see all the girls of the illustrious E block, and we had a great time catching up over dinner last night. My biggest news is that I went to a furniture auction and managed to win a bidding war for THE MOST FABULOUS SCOTTISH WINDSOR CHAIR EVER. Ah, furniture auctions, an addiction undying. Here are some photos, because I know that's how LAURA OVERBEY ROLLS:


This is the chair of my life. I hope to die sitting in it, or something along those lines. It is made of Elm and "other woods" and is positively beautiful.

I'll finish with some views of St. Andrews: rain and shine.

This is Market Street and, as the name would denote, is where all the shops are. Check the cobblestones and the hundreds of little chimneys. Where am I again?

That's right, I'm in SunTanDrews.
[this may very well be the greatest shop name. ever.]

My path from English to Art History... walking on the left like a good Scot.

Who shells she shells by the shea shore? Those are classrooms on the right, frigid water on the left, and cliffs of death in-between.

Those sidewalks are getting medieval on you.

Danger: I walk along cliffs to get to class. That's the North Sea, y'all

And then there are the cathedral ruins at the end of town...

No big deal, just take a left when you pass through the FOURTEENTH CENTURY ARCH.

This is inside St. Mary's College, the part of the University where the cupboard is kept! Fun fact: that tree was planted by Mary, Queen of Scots.

This photo was viciously stolen from Gwen, but it is a good show of Scotland in the rain. This is what St. Andrews looks like every three days or so. It's not so bad, but that's because I'm really tall so my face is further away from puddles [wha?]

Time check: it's 4:30 in the afternoon and it's DARK. Please also note the glorious curtains I have in my room. They are magnificent and a living testament to the taste and good judgement of whoever selected them.

Here's what I have on my plate this week:
- Slide exam [aforementioned 200 Scottish chairs]
- Presentation on Mansfield Park [multi-media?]
- finding a flat and breaking my housing contract [turns out this is more difficult than it should be]
- collecting my free drink at the Byre Theatre
- ice skating with Breakaway
- scheduling meetings and open days with various graduate programs around the UK [they're coming up, y'all!]


Geez, what a boring list. Uncanny.
I'm just a regular old student now?

Sweet Photo of the Moment

Taken in London by Marcus.

I've got a big week of work ahead of me so MacNorthup might be dormant for a while. It's not because I don't love you, I've just got 200 different Scottish chairs to learn about.

In my absence please visit my neighbo[u]r's blogs that are linked to the right. I eat dinner and share a shower with them (not all at once) and they are delightful.

Kiss kiss bang bang.

L

JAMIE GAUL IS COMING TO SCOTLAND

Next semester.



I am thrilled.

A Lot Of Movin, A Lot Of Shakin'

This from The Avett Brothers messageboard:

"The Avett Brothers are heading over to the UK in late February and early March. Dates will be in the following cities:

Manchester, Glasgow, Newcastle, Leeds, Nottingham, Sheffield, Birmingham and London."


... Is that a sign? I am elated. ELATED.

The Birthday Heard 'Round The World (and midterm elections too)

Before I write about little ol' me I'd like to take a moment and REJOICE in the defeat of Charles Taylor as Representative for North Carolina's 11th District. If you aren't from my corner of North Carolina you can read about the upset here. Praise BE -- and please note the use of words like "rugged" and "mountainous" to describe where I'm from. Hilarious. Way to go, USA Today.

Also: three cheers for a democratic congress! I don't want to wax too political but suffice it to say that I am most pleased. At last. Now when people look at me across dinner tables in Scotland and snarl "well, you voted in a leader like Bush" I have a modicum of ground to stand on.

And I did my part. I voted.

Now let's see some greater emphasis on trade policy and human rights! Let's see some reassessment of the war in Iraq! Let's vote HILLARY in 2008! (...too far? Sorry Coles)

Now I'm all riled up, and talking about my birthday seems a little self-centered in the grand scheme of The State of Things... but I had a really great birthday and I think it is worth mentioning.

I woke up on my halloween birthday the same way I do every year, only this time I was in a cell block in Andrew Melville Hall on the East coast of Scotland and it was stupid, stupid cold outside. I didn't have Franklin Street or Pauper's fall show to look forward to (or stress about) and I didn't have my mom to make me cream-cheese eggs. Instead, I donned my backpack and headed for the bus station in the dark. Destination? London!

Getting to the Edinuburgh airport from St. Andrews takes some doing. I spent the first three hours of my birthday in anonymous train and bus travel, avoiding direct eye-contact and musing over what would happen if I leaned over to the guy next to me and whispered "you know, it's my birthday today." Unfortunately he was reading a Dan Brown book and I ultimately decided that I didn't want my first birthday wishes to come from a godless pagan.

I got to the Edinburgh airport in plenty of time to check in for my flight AND make a quick trip to Accessorize -- my second favorite British store after Topshop. Accessorize is basically like Claire's on steroids and I could spend hours just looking at the bangles and matching them up with tweed newsboy caps. It's like an aesthetic all-you-can-eat buffet and I'm the gluttenous American who brought her own fork.

My flight to London was pretty uneventful unless you count -- not one -- but two screaming babies as events. I love easyjet because (besides being cheap as dirt), they always have you walking across the tarmac and boarding your jet via those big rolling stairs. I tend to get a little bit excited when I get to do that -- the roar of the engines and the wind whipping all around you is very dramatic. I like to imagine I'm flying to Tanzania or Namibia to save orphans instead of hopping down to London to drink a lot because I'm a year older. But, you know, I guess that's kind of noble in its own way.

I got into London around 6 and took the train to Clapham Junction to meet my old high school friend Marcus. Some backstory on Marcus, since everyone keeps asking (you are quite the celebrity amongst Northup circles, buddy): he was the English Speaking Union scholar at Asheville School for my senior year. He had effectively already finished high school back in England, but came over to Asheville on scholarship for his gap year before going to university. Why? Well, cultural enrichment I guess. He mostly learned about American football, inane and overly-wealthy Southerners, and the glory of soft-batch chips ahoy cookies. We had some good times back in 2003. Let's flash back with a photo:

(We were so YOUNG! I should also note that Marcus
no longer has the faux-hawk and I miss it. A lot.)

I see Marcus more than I see most people from high school, which is odd because he lives in England and until a few months ago I lived in Chapel Hill, but I am glad that our lives have crossed so many times, because he is a really great guy and an amazing friend. He also breakdances: a fact that doesn't say much about his character but I think is worth mentioning.

I got to his new flat in Battersea around 7 to find him in the kitchen cooking me (and sister Amy and flatmates Doug, Matias, and Sam) DINNER -- which was amazing -- and after dinner he came around the corner with the most perfect little birthday cake with candles. It was basically the most amazing, unexpected birthday celebration ever, and I will love Marcus forever for making it so special when he didn't have to. He even bought me special beer from oddbins: Grapefruit and Heather Ale. Arrrr.

After dinner and some extensive debate, we decided to take the bus to Tottenham Court road to meet up with the UNC kids who are studying in London (among them Gabriella Miyares, linked to the right) for a little flat party. We danced, drank, and chatted our way into the evening. I had some of the flat worst pictures of me ever taken posted on facebook, but here is a slightly better selection:

On the way out: (l-r) Marcus, Doug, Me, Matias, and Rupert


Doug and Ike at Tottenham Court


Sketchy Gabriella and the big 2-1

Waiting for the bus around 3 am... HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

The next day Marcus and I had a great time walking around the city. We did funny walks in Hyde Park, made a pilgrimmage to the Oxford St TopShop (the mothership), and discovered what may be the best ramen restaurant in all of London proper. It was such a good day.

Anyways, I'm in the depths of paper-writing for my Jane Austen class, so I will end there. Hope everyone had an amazing Halloween. Love and miss you.

Small Town News

I won Breakaway's photo contest for the Glen Lyon trip. Prize? A free drink. Holler!

You can see my name in lights here.