My Semester Abroad

I'm back in Seattle, found a Frisbee pick-up team to join--and am desperately missing London. No more Caffe Nero, no University College London, no quick rides on the tube. And it's so odd how easily I've transitioned into being back in the States. I don't have the call the bathroom a toilet anymore and I won't be embarrassed if I call trousers pants.

(That always lead to an awkward pause in conversation. Once, at a Frisbee tournament I heard that we were supposed to wear shorts, which sounded absurd since it was cold, windy and hailing off and on.
"Do you think it would matter if we wore pants instead?" I asked some of the girls.
"What??!!" they said, horrified.
I suddenly remembered that pants means underwear.
"I mean..."
"Trousers, yes. We figured.")

I crammed as much as I could into my last day in London. As I walked back from Sainbury's, I suddenly stopped and looked at everything I would miss: Tottenham Court Road, the traffic, the shops, the construction. Yasemin and I took a walk to bid adieu to our adopted turf. We strolled down to Covent Garden and continued to the Strand. Visited the National Gallery at Trafalgar Square and popped in to see Monet's curvy bridge and Van Gogh's textured sunflowers one last time.

London, I must say this: Bravo! Bravo! Bravississimo!

At Chateau de Versailles, I'm sitting next to Italians eating their baguettes. The former royal headquarters are immense and they're playing opera music over the loudspeakers to add to the regal atmosphere.

Adorable little French kids are sneaking looks at me and Yasemin. We're reading in the grass near one of the rectangular pools in the Versailles Gardens. They heard us speaking English and dash up every now and then and say something to us in French. Then their parents try to instruct them in English.

Parent: "Jean-Paul, say, 'How are you?'"

Jean-Paul: (Giggles and runs away)

A toddler just waddled up to me and said...something. I folded a little paper airplane and a game of catch evolved. His father played the role of translator between us, but all the little guy would say is, "Avion avion!" ("Airplane, airplane!") Bon garcon!

Yasemin and I justify our constant consumption of tarts and cafe cremes with the endless amount of walking we do every day; surely the calories must be a wash?

Our hostel has no electricity in the outlets and the walls are peeling white flakes of paint from the walls and ceiling. There's a little computer station downstairs where you can buy six minutes of Internet for a euro. I ran out of time at the end and just barely managed to send my parents the message "In Paris. Good." before my account shut down.

We took in L'Arc de Triomphe, the immense victory arch that Napoleon commissioned in 1810. We had to walk through a rather apartment filled area to get there. The buildings here are so ornate and each window has a small balcony. Reminds me of New Orleans, only the balconies here are free of drunk merriment and flower pots instead inhabit the curvy metal fenced in ledges.

Yesterday we grabbed some apples for breakfast and headed off to Rosslyn Chapel. I've definitely had my kilt quota filled; you pass all these bagpipe players on the street wearing their traditional garb. The Chapel, built in 1446, has, I believe, the first documented instance of a bagpipe player (adorning the top of one of the stone pillars). Everything inside is so ornate — carved flowers on the ceiling and twisting columns supporting the roof.

JANE PENG / SPECIAL TO THE SEATTLE TIMES

Roof of Rossyln Chapel, May 25, 2006

They recently built a roof to cover the Chapel to protect it from the rain, but it only destroys the view from the outside. Inside, it feels like you are entering another century filled with medieval saints and the Knights Templar.

JANE PENG / SPECIAL TO THE SEATTLE TIMES

Edinburgh at night from Calton Hill, May 25, 2006

Later we walked up Calton Hill and got an amazing view of the city. It's a great place to gaze at clouds and the Palace of Holyroodhouse, where the Queen of England vacations every summer.

This morning Jane went off to Dundee and I scouted out some museums with Laura. She was leaving Edinburgh a couple hours after us to fly back home to Spokane. I saw Dolly the sheep in the Royal Museum of Scotland - she's been stuffed and is standing on a revolving platform, which I found slightly distasteful. I don't see why they have to make such a spectacle of her. The museum had some really good exhibits though, and more stuffed birds than I've ever seen in my life.

JANE PENG / SPECIAL TO THE SEATTLE TIMES

Edinburgh at night from Calton Hill with the Greek Acropolis in the foreground, May 25, 2006.

We surveyed the city from the top of the Royal Museum of Scotland as the rain fell lightly and made my fleece damp.

"I'm really going to miss it here," Laura said, and I nodded, because I realized that I will be leaving London soon. I will really miss London! And I just met this guy, and now I am going back to Seattle in two weeks! It's funny how life works like that.

When my alarm went off at 3:30 a.m., I hit snooze. Then I realized I couldn't do that because I had to catch a flight to Edinburgh in a few hours. I have been so deprived of sleep this week: I've been playing in Frisbee tournaments, finishing papers and celebrating the end of term. I managed half a bowl of cereal before Jane knocked on my door, but I got my act together and we walked briskly to the bus stop. The bus was late and we nearly missed the train from Victoria Station to Gatwick airport. Jane and I were happy just to find a seat! London is empty early in the morning but the train was filled with travellers and suitcases.

Laura, the friend I explored Poland with, let us stay at her flat and showed us around the city. Edinburgh is massively green; it rains off and on continually. First we sought shelter in The Elephant House, the cafe where J.K. Rowling wrote the first Harry Potter book. They have excellent coffee and little elephants everywhere; it would be a great place to wile away the afternoon with a good book (Harry Potter, perhaps?) and a mound of croissants.

I think I unintentionally offended a Scot at our next stop: St. Giles' Cathedral. The gift shop had postcards and key chains of shaggy, auburn and long-horned creatures everywhere.

"Are there many yaks in the area?" I asked the lady behind the counter, motioning toward a little yarn duplicate on the counter. Oh, she did not like that!

"Those are highland cows," she said, stiffening. Only she said it more like "hielan' koos" because she had the most brilliant Scottish accent.

JANE PENG / SPECIAL TO THE SEATTLE TIMES

Edinburgh Castle, May 24, 2006

Jane and I spent the rest of the windy day wandering around Edinburgh Castle learning about the Scottish crown jewels, cannons, uneven cobblestones (which were beautiful but hard to walk on, especially since I just pulled a muscle in my foot playing Frisbee) and seeing that amazing, yellowy green vegetation around the cityscape. The castle rests on a craggy hill and provides a great view of the city and its monuments. It's hard to get lost here- each part of the city is unique enough to identify later.

This past week I've mostly been holed up in my room or cafes working on my papers and then dashing out at night when I can't stand sitting still any longer. I'm alternating my nights out between salsa classes and intensive football-watching. (And by football, of course, we mean soccer, not that silly thing Americans play.)

Yasemin and I had to check out three pubs before we finally found a little Italian restaurant that had satellite TV and was playing the Milan-Roma game. The top floor was so crowded we could barely see the screen, so the owner let us go down to the basement and join the crowd down there. Downstairs was even more packed, but at least there were chairs! Pretty much everyone except for us spoke Italian, and they were all spontaneously bursting out into cheers and taunts.

The Arsenal-Barcelona game was even more intense. We had to squeeze against the wall and watch out for overly jubilant fans jumping and spilling their drinks. Arsenal lost 2-1, which really made all the Tottenham fans rejoice. Brutal.

Right when you think London weather is blossoming and wonderful and oh so warm, you go out and play Frisbee only to come home soaked. What happened?!? It's like I'm back... in Seattle!

After practice I headed over to my distant relative's house to collect some travel books from his extensive library. At the end of May, I'm off to Edinburgh to see if men in kilts are overrated and then to Paris to see how far I can get without speaking French. Some friends are desperately trying to instruct me in the French language, but they only know random things like "the lift is not working." Maybe I'll get some language tapes and learn how to order elaborate meals.

After letting me select several books, my relative dropped me off at the Mornington Crescent tube station on his way to a music store, but the station was closed and he had driven away before I could flag him down. There I was, in the rain. Had a nice walk to Camden Town's underground stop, though. And now I know a great place to buy falafel. Wandering is really the best way to get around this city.

Finally, on a train! Sarah and I are heading back to Warsaw after spending a night in Krakow. It's such a relief to sit down; yesterday we walked all over the city, checking out the Jewish Quarter and the Old Town. One synagogue has an incredibly old graveyard in the back. It's been restored but I guess some of the headstones had crumbled, so they were placed in a wall surrounding the cemetery. It's eerie and beautiful.

LAURA GEGGEL/SPECIAL TO THE SEATTLE TIMES

The graveyard wall behind the Remuh Synagogue in Krakow, April 28, 2006.

There are bread stands everywhere, so we all bought pretzels and perched on steps watching tourists buy amber and bead necklaces from the street vendors. Laura headed off to some little Polish town today to see where her ancestors are from.

Our hostel experiences keep on getting better. Some Brits invited us to play poker , and even though I'm not a big fan of the game, we joined them and bet silly things like hair bands and health insurance cards (well, we later gave those back to them, since they were of little use to us). I had to barter a health insurance card for my ballpoint pen. Close call.

Today a nine-year-old girl held us hostage in an Old Town Church! She giggled as she leaned against the door and held out her collecting cup.

"I already gave you some zloty," said Laura, one of the friends I'm traveling with in Poland. We had to play the waiting game for a couple minutes until the girl relented and let us out. It's sad really; she should be in school.

Warsaw's Old Town is the most authentic place to visit; most everything else has been rebuilt since the city was flattened by bombs in World War II. The streets are wide and so are the sidewalks, which double as parking lots for cars. It's not as bad as Rome or Naples though, where mopeds will drive up on the walkway to avoid traffic and send pedestrians scrambling for the wall.

We had perogies for lunch. They're like little dumplings and were made right in front of us! Mmmmmm......

From Old Town, we walked over to the Warsaw Uprising Memorial. It takes up a whole plaza: the structures long and angular and concrete blocks weighing down on them. The Monument to the Heroes of the Ghetto was strewn with flowers and wreaths. My friend's guidebook said that the Warsaw uprising occurred not because they thought they had a chance at survival — but because it was a more honorable way to die rather than waiting for the Nazis to come get them.

Everything is so quiet. Tom left Saturday for Washington D.C. and I didn't feel like starting on my essays, so I filled my day with nonsensical things like a Jack the Ripper tour of London, and seeing "Capote" after Chinese food with friends. The walking group tour guide made everything very sensational. There are quite a few Jack the Ripper suspects — there are more than 10 people who could have done it.

Everything was still much too quiet, though, so I was really happy when I got a call from my friend Sarah (not the same Sarah I traveled with), who is going to the London School of Economics for the semester. I've known Sarah and her family since I was 8. Her parents were in town so we made plans for Indian food the next day. Her friend Renee came too; she went to Seattle Prep. I've got a whole Seattle posse with me in the U.K.

Over Indian food, Sarah, Renee and I discussed how people like to study abroad to challenge themselves and experience different cultures. But once you get to your new city, you tend to cling to people you already know. Americans hang out with Americans and exchange students from other countries. You really have to go out of your way to meet locals. In fact, I had just missed a bonding experience with my British Frisbee people, most of who are in York for a tournament, because I couldn't make the train at the designated time.

After dinner we went to Renee's apartment near London Bridge for the view. It was raining softly and everything — the castle near London Tower, the bridge, the boats on the Thames — had lights enveloping them. I stayed to chat with Renee and browsed her Time Out, a weekly that lists the going-ons of London. We made plans to see Spitalfields Market on Friday when the amateur clothing designers come to sell their wares.

It's our last day here and by far one of the most wonderful. We met up with one of Sarah's Edinburgh friends for tapas and later went to the Picasso Museum, which houses many of his earlier works. Later we wandered up to Park Guel, also designed by Gaudi, which has the longest park bench in the world. Go Gaudi! After a bit more wandering we came across a Starbucks, and I struck up a conversation with the barista in my slow Spanish. He spoke so fast, it was hard to understand, but along with our coffee, we ended up with an invitation to a Starbucks party they were having the next day. Too bad we couldn't make it!

TOM GEGGEL / SPECIAL TO THE SEATTLE TIMES

Baton Rouge 224 is of the Monastery at Monserrat. Only accessible by gondola or for fierce hikers!

Then we took the train out to Montserrat. It's only an hour away and a gondola ride up a very steep cliff to the monastery on top. There were a couple groups of French high school students on field trips there. It would be great to go to school in a European country — for all of your breaks, you get to travel to different cities with your classmates. The schoolkids made the train ride back particularly crowded; Tom and I had to sit on the luggage racks and I fell asleep and almost missed our stop.

We finally found Mercat St Josep today! It's right off Las Rambas and has every sort of fresh produce you could imagine. Sarah, Tom and I split up to find supplies for our picnic; we ended up buying grapes, tomatoes, salted almonds, clementines and omelets. (I was full for the rest of the day). We took our lunch up to the old 1992 Olympic village and walked around before finding a nice grassy area near the stadium to sit. Barcelona built such a huge arena and it's a bit odd to see it deserted.

After Rome, Barcelona feels so much wider and warmer. There are actually crosswalks and traffic lanes here — hallelujah! Hardly anybody jaywalks, even if the streets are free of traffic. We are still in Rome mode, so we are often the only ones crossing the street while people bunch up on the edges of the sidewalk waiting for the walk sign.

The hostel we're staying at is a clean, well-lighted place. I met a young couple from Switzerland who recommended we check out an outdoor market called Mercat St Josep, but we forgot the street name and ended up at a little touristy restaurant on Las Rambas instead, drinking sangria and eating tortilla espanola. Las Rambas is a long boardwalk filled with street performers and little streets branching off into swank areas with tapas bars. You can buy anything here, even roosters.

LAURA GEGGEL / SPECIAL TO THE SEATTLE TIMES

The Sagrada Familia, April 2, 2006.

Tom and I ate and ate, naming this and that in Spanish. We couldn't remember how to say "plum," but we asked the men beside us who thought we were hilarious and asked us if we wanted to know any other words.

Today we visited La Sagrada Familia, a huge basilica designed by Gaudi that was 100 years in the making. Everything about it looks as though it was stretched vertically. After our hike to the top (Sarah came too, "boot" and all), we walked over to a nearby park to play Frisbee and naps. I don't remember falling asleep, but I must have because when I came to, my arm was asleep and rubbery. Viva la siesta!

Yesterday we took a two-hour train ride to Naples. Want some advice? Don't go to Naples! There's nothing to do and the city is pretty dirty. We did manage to find the Naopli Sistema Museo and see the famous mosaic of Alexander the Great, as well as the "secret room" that you have to be over 14 to enter. I can't really go into detail on a family Web site, but the artwork really showed the libido of the ancient Greeks. In lurid detail.

At night Rome switches on beaming lights that illuminate its monuments. The Forum, the Colosseum, the Pantheon, the fountains...mix pale moonlight with yellow spotlights aimed at the sky and 2,000-year-old stones and marble, add in some flashy bar signs and you've got Rome after dark.

Tom and I explored the city today, walking to churches and memorials, temples and statues in the middle of busy traffic circles. Gelato is our new favorite thing: it's soooo cool and creamy and wonderful. Lighter than ice cream, and each mouthful a refreshing reminder what how strawberries and chocolate should really taste when crystallized.

We took a siesta on this little isola (island) in the middle of the Tiber river and basked in the sun while reading our books. I turned rather pink, but that's the curse of being a redhead.

My friend Sarah, a 2003 alumna of Sammamish's Eastlake High School, joined us later that evening. Sarah's studying in Edinburgh this semester and dealing with a fractured foot and removable cast we all fondly call The Boot. She's stomped around Europe, flip-flop on one foot and Boot on the other.

TOM GEGGEL / SPECIAL TO THE SEATTLE TIMES

Fontana di Trevi in Rome, Italy, March 28, 2006. If you throw two coins in it means you'll return to Rome, three coins promises a new love in your life.

We went to dinner via the guide called, "Well, it smells good, so why not?" and soon ourselves enjoying ravioli and thin-crust pizza. Tom tried ordering little fried donuts because they sounded really good, but the waitress shook her head and brought him a meat platter instead. That went rather well with the three hulking meatballs he had already ordered. Sarah, the vegetarian, laughed so hard when he tried to get us to help him eat all that meat.

But the man sitting next to us at the restaurant didn't find it so funny. He suddenly turned to us and shouted, "In all my life, never have I heard such a loud conversation! Do you think you are the only ones in the restaurant?" His glare was enough to stifle our conversation. Gulp.

"Can you please move over so my brother can get on the tube?" I asked the little man smashed into me and my enormous backpack. My shoulders were killing me, but I didn't have any room to take it off or shift my shoulder bag to the floor. It was hopeless. The Piccadilly line, which goes to Heathrow, was jammed and there was no way Tom could fit on the train.

A few minutes later, I looked around the tube and saw him leaning against the sliding door behind several travelers. Somehow he managed to get on, and we made our delayed flight and even enjoyed the Pink Panther cartoons on the Alitalia jet.

By the time we got to Rome, close to 1 a.m., the trains and the buses had stopped running. Some men offered us a ride after Tom bartered them down a couple Euro. We were speaking Spanish, which is close enough to Italian so they could sort of understand us.

"Senor, senor, su coche no es blanco" ("Sir, sir, your car is not white"), Tom said, a bit unnerved when one led us to an ordinary car in the dark parking lot, away from the well lit terminal. Taxis in Rome are white, much like the yellow cabs in the States and the black cabs in England. His cab was clearly unlicensed, and we were alone with him in a foreign country. Where we knew no one. And did not speak the language. Go us.

"I don't speak English!" he snapped at Tom, and stormed away, pushing Tom's bag to the ground.

We asked around and finally made it to the hostel over an hour later.

Tom and I went on a walking tour of Shakespeare and Dickens' London in the rain. We learned the origins of all sorts of English sayings, including "the rule of thumb" meant you couldn't beat your wife with a stick thicker than your thumb. "A frog in your throat" is quite literal. If you had a sore throat (and poor you if you did!) a doctor would shove a frog down your throat. The frog, once in your mouth, would freak out and secrete some chemical that had antibacterial qualities that helped sore throats or something, though I'm not really clear on that, because sore throats are usually from viral infections, which antibiotics can't help. Hmm.

My brother Tom came today! He graduated from Mercer Island High School in 2000. I kept the poor guy up for close to 40 hours, but at least now he's on British time.

I met him at the airport at 8 a.m. and, after dropping off his bags at my dorm, we headed off to the Tate Britain (and saw John Singer Sargent's "Lanterns"; he always painted at dusk to capture the orange glow and the dull green of the grass in the dark), Camden Town Market, the National Portrait Gallery (featuring paintings of famous people from Judi Dench to Bloody Mary), Agatha Christie's "The Mousetrap" murder mystery play, and a party thrown by some friends of mine to celebrate the end of term.

Oh, and did I mention? I'm done with classes! Now I just have a passel of essays to write. Aww yeah.

Yasemin and I went to the Prince Charles Cinema, the cheapest theater in town that plays old movies. But since we eternally run late, we only had time to grab dinner instead; we sat a bench in the park nearby munching on noodles and stir fry. It costs extra to sit in restaurants, so we usually order out. A gentleman got to the bench before us, but gestured to us that we could have it, saying; "Ladies first."

Then he sat down right next to us. "So, do you girls speak English?" he asked. I wished Yasemin had answered him in Turkish, "Nice try but you're not picking us up, dude."

I tried really hard to see the stage production "Billy Elliot" with some of my British friends, but it was sold out again.

KEE LEE / SPECIAL TO THE SEATTLE TIMES

Geggel and Jane Peng stand in front of Little Ben before trying to buy Billy Elliot tickets March 23, 2006.

The walk to the theater was filled with historical sites at least. We passed Little Ben, the Mini-Me version of Big Ben. The city took Little Ben out of the city during the Blitz to save him from the bombs, but they forgot where they put him in the country and couldn't find him for the longest time. A tour guide told us Little Ben had been chilling in some cave for a couple decades, but now he's back in the city enjoying all the traffic that roars on by.

Oh my goodness, essay writing is going so slowly. I've been researching like crazy for my papers; I have to do a lot more background research at University College London than back at Washington University; everything here is much more independently driven. I woke up in a nervous panic today determined to finish writing my early Middle Ages essay so I could work on my Roman Republic essay on how Rome really wasn't a democracy. Fun times!

Explored Chinatown with some friends later in the day and found that most of the restaurants have minimum fees for sitting down and ordering. Sheesh. But we were so hungry, that ended up not being a problem.

This week I visited Borough Market with some friends from my floor. Borough hasn't got anything on Pike Place Market, since it sells only food, but what food! I got a jar of raspberry preserves and a bag of dried strawberries (way better than they sound), and sampled exotic fare like orange-flavored olive oil from Italy and feta cheese and olives. The market is near the London Bridge tube stop — convenient because I was able to dash off and just make it to Frisbee practice in time to practice dodging drills.

In my Roman Republic class we just held a mock trial and convicted Julius Caesar of power mongering. The student who played Calpernia kindly asked the prosecutors to refrain from insulting her late husband who had just been stabbed to death, and bristled when they asked about his affair with Cleopatra in Egypt. Cleopatra smiled smugly, and the jury furiously wrote in their notebooks.

Waking up early on Saturday to go to Brighton was incredibly hard. The Friday before I went to a party thrown by the Frisbee team — yes, it's nearly as competitive as cricket — and didn't get home until early morning. London's wonderful night buses never stop running, so at least I didn't have to walk!

HREEM DAVE / SPECIAL TO THE SEATTLE TIMES

Jamie and Laura On the Brighton Pier, March 4, 2006.

In England, I'm considered a third year, which is the final year for students at university. But even though I'm the same age as the other third years, they seem so much older — they act like college seniors; hunting for jobs and inspecting graduate and medical schools. Actually, the Frisbee team has all sorts of members, first years, alumni, friends of alumni ... so I get to hear all the gruesome details about A levels, the test that all British students have to take to get into college.

Luckily, the bus ride to Brighton was long and quiet, so I caught some shut eye after my late night and awoke to the crashing of waves against rocky shores.

I've really missed seeing the water! Seattle has such beautiful geography that you just don't get in landlocked areas. Brighton has a great windy coastline. True, the rock-castle I tried to make with my friends didn't quite work, but it was still fun sitting on the shore and watching people learn how to scuba dive (though why they would want to do that in the icy waters of March, I have no idea). There were lots of cute shops in the area, but because we had a guy with us, we decided not to make him suffer, trailing behind us in and out of stores.

LAURA GEGGEL / SPECIAL TO THE SEATTLE TIMES

The Royal Pavilion, March 4, 2006.

The pier is a real tourist trap, but Jamie still managed to find the famous Brighton rock candy, similar to a candy cane but with writing down the center. We also checked out the Royal Pavilion, and old summer home for the royal family in the 1800s, and marveled at the carpets and chandeliers. Everything would look really nice in my dorm — damn security guards.

"Keep off the Grass" signs spot the King's College campus everywhere. So really, how could I resist?

Cambridge, about a two hour bus ride from London, is a little stone gothic town with a handful of colleges peppering the boarders of downtown. I went with a small group of friends and we spent the whole day wandering in and out of pubs, overpriced shops, outdoor markets and different college campuses.

A little river called the Cam circles the downtown area and dozens of tourists attempt to go punting. It's a like a gondola but not as romantic, with one person standing on the end of a little flat boat and propelling it forward by plunging a large pole into the water and pushing it off the bottom of the river.

BIBO XU / SPECIAL TO THE SEATTLE TIMES

Geggel in front of La Mimosa with people punting in the background, Saturday, Feb 4, 2006.

We listened to an all boys choir (whose voices could go surprisingly high) in a church at King's College commissioned by Henry VIII that was originally Catholic until he brought on the Reformation 10 years later and started beheading all of his wives. The vaulted ceiling amplified the music- it was so beautiful. We all snuck out before the service began, since we were all either Jewish or Buddhist- though I'm sure it was lovely.

So this past week I had my first Chaucer essay due. Everyone in the English department at University College London is assigned a tutor (who is sometimes a professor or a lecturer) who meets with you to discuss two of your four papers in the English Department per semester. I worked for a week on this paper- 2,000-4,000 words! I had met with him briefly before, and, as I perceived it, my rough draft was due Monday and the final draft due the next Monday.

And since I had the extra week, I decided to not quite finish my paper (I already had a good nine pages) but attach my outline, which was really detailed, to the end of it so my tutor would know I had done the prep work and knew where I was going with my argument. So I hand it in at 10 a.m. and meet with him at 12:30 noon. Quick turn around!

"I was very interested in the outline you placed at the end," he said

"Oh yeah, well I'm going to complete it for the final draft that's due next week," I said

He looked really surprised. "What are you talking about?" he asked. "It's due today."
Which is when I started to freak out. No way! He said it was due next week! Last time I met with him, and the e-mail he sent in response to my question....

It turns out I misinterpreted the e-mail. He would never send the impression that he had time to meet with students twice to discuss their papers, he said.

LAURA GEGGEL / SPECIAL TO THE SEATTLE TIMES

The King's College Campus in downtown Cambridge, Saturday, Feb. 4, 2006.

But he was genuinely concerned because I was so upset! Luckily I had worked really hard on my current 9 pages, and he really only expected it to be 5-6 pages, so I was fine. (The pages here are longer than the American 8.5 by 11"). What a relief! For the next hour he quizzed me about my views about this and that- things about my paper and other things I would maybe want to include. It was pretty cool to have a one-on-one situation like that. Usually professors just write you that note at the end with a grade instead of meeting with you for an hour.

He actually wouldn't tell me my grade, but he said I did a good job and I shouldn't worry about it. Phew!

I made a brief appearance at China Town to see the Chinese New Year celebrations. The streets were jammed with people watching dragons and lions catching cabbages from store owners as the men under the dragon and lion danced to the rapid drum beat. Apparently "cabbage" in Chinese sounds like "fortune," so it's actually a food pun meaning, "Have a fortuitous year!"

We tried going out for dim sum, but every restaurant had a waiting list, so we had Turkish food instead.

Oh Seahawks. It was fun watching the game at least- I got all of these Brits to root for us! Then some of them got bored and started playing rugby next to the couches, which was quite entertaining until they almost broke a lamp and the guy who manages the front desk came down to yell at them. Not the most orthodox Superbowl experience, but I'm more of a Frisbee/badminton/ping-pong/baseball type of girl, so maybe we'll do better next year.

The other night I learned the virtues of not accepting candy from strangers. After one of our Washington University in St. Louis dinners (every couple weeks all the Wash U kids get together for a dinner at a random restaurant in London) I went with some friends to Starbucks, which really is taking over the world by the way, God bless. Halfway through our conversation this older man approached us and started talking Italian to me, of which I understood none, of course (I only speak Spanish!) I tried to tell him that, so he paused for a moment and then launched into a language that sounded like Russian. I looked at both my friends and they shrugged their shoulders.
"I have no idea what you're saying," I said.

Though through his gestures, I think he was trying to say something about my red hair. He left but came back a minute later and offered me a piece of unwrapped chocolate, and, when nobody made a move to take it, placed it on the table before he left the cafe. How odd! Nobody touched the chocolate- we just left it on the table for those hardworking Starbucks employees to deal with. Hey, I don't tip them for nothing.

Today was entirely spent at the Tate Modern, which is an amazing museum on the Thames that looks like a giant warehouse. One room was filled completely with pyramids of white painted boxes. I'm sure it represented the complexities and sameness of life or something. But I got to see lots of cool paintings by Picasso, Dali, Rothko and Pollack. Even Monet's water lilies! I could look at Monet all day; his paintings are so vibrant and soothing.

It's been a great week — I went to the British Library and saw original manuscripts like "Jane Eyre," "Beowulf," Shakespeare's 1st folio (published seven years after he died) — where that famous picture of him with his neck ruff comes from). There are tons of Bibles and the Golden Hagadah, which was made in Barcelona around 1320 and is quite beautiful.

Later went to this museum that used to be the house of Sir John Soane (b. 1753), who designed the British Bank. Soane left all of his things to the city, but said that he wanted everything to stay in his house. So everything is a bit cramped because his house isn't huge and he collected so many artifacts, including the first commissioned portrait of Napoleon to an Egyptian sarcophagus.

Random fact: I just learned why the word sarcophagus is similar to the word esophagus. They both lead to digestion, or so thought early archeologists. Sarx means flesh in Greek and phagein means to eat.So excavators actually thought that the limestone coffin was digesting the mummy! Gross, gross, gross.

Today in my Early Middle Ages class I learned why it was better to be a peasant in the 700s than an aristocrat: While conditions more or less remained the same for the poor, the upper class suffered a great economic dive. Poor things. Whenever someone in the lecture yawned, the professor would say, "Yes, Harry, I know, this is very boring. But humor me, please."

The UCL library is closed on Sunday! OK, correction: you can be in the library from 11 a.m. to 5 p.m., but you can't check books out. Thus, I had to stay there all afternoon to read Shakespeare's "The Taming of the Shrew," in a wooden chair that inhibited sleep. I'm up now, by the way, because the fire alarm has gone off yet again. I make the most of my time outside by painting my toenails — glad I had the presence of mind to grab the polish as we filed outside. Now, back to bed.

Instead of going to practice, I managed to get terrifically lost with Liz on our way to see "Gem of the Ocean," an August Wilson play. The play was amazing; about racial relations during a steel mill strike in 1906 Pittsburgh. It feels a little odd seeing an American play in London, but the audience loved it.

Every playhouse here serves little cartons of ice cream at intermission (or rather, "interval). It's a tradition that the States definitely needs to pick up.

Liz and I attempted to see a play with our Turkish friend Yasemin, but it was so far away that we missed it completely. On the way we passed The Royal Courts of Justice, which looks like one of the sets from "Bridget Jones's Diary."

SHOOTER/SOURCE

The Royal British Courts, Jan. 20, 2006

Instead of the play, we scoped out the financial district area and found a classy little tea place called the Cinnamon Bar, where the cookies are cheap and the tea is expensive, but damn is it good.

One thing not cheap in London: movies. Even with a student discount, I paid £9 to see "Memoirs of a Geisha." That's almost $16!

It's so odd the things that make you feel American. Like passing someone on the right when you're walking past them. Here they tend to pass you on the left. It's such a little thing, but I've already done several dance steps with strangers.

After class I went to the British Museum with a girl in my hall and we made it just in time for a tour in Arabian art. The tour guide knew so much: No religious Islamic art can depict animals in it because it's considered sacrilegious, so they like to draw cool designs and flowers along with their calligraphy. The Chinese, via trade and an invasion from an indirect descendant of Genghis Khan, influenced Arabian art; the Arabs copied Chinese images, and in Arab manuscripts of myths and battles the people drawn really look Chinese. You wouldn't know they were Islamic if it weren't for the writing.

Woo-hoo, history! Speaking of which, all of my classes at UCL are going really well.

"Will you guys cover the liberal democrats?" Mak asked.

"Only if there's free wine," said Harry.

"And chocolate," said Arun.

"Wot?? Go on ... wankers ... you'll be late!" she said, which had a great effect on their sudden decision to attend the event.

Well, there wasn't free wine or chocolate at the liberal democrats' discussion panel, but there was a heated discussion about nuclear energy and whether university should be free in Britain (up until a few years ago everyone received free education), with a lot of comparison of England to the States. I took some notes, so I guess I'm writing the article. 'Tis a shame — the article really would have been much better had the lib dems offered chocolate.

I've joined the Pi Magazine news department, which has its news meetings at a pub. And I also just joined the Ultimate Frisbee club too, and when I asked what practice would be like Saturday, the student coach said, "Well, we practice for maybe 2 hours and then play games until dusk. Next's the pub, are you coming?" he asked. And I almost laughed. Who can play Ultimate Frisbee all day? (P.S. to Mom and Dad, despite what it sounds like, I promise I'm studying too.)

There are drunken international students of all ethnicities singing out in the quad between the dorms. It would be quite charming really if they could carry a tune, but alas...

I got into a real snarl at the underground today with my friend Liz. If we hadn't listened to the others we would have managed our trip back with one tube switch, but instead we made four. It probably would have been easier to walk back from Camden Town to Goodge, but both of us were so tired from wandering around the market that all we wanted to do was sit down and people watch in the subway. There are so many accents in London that some people, when they hear me speak, don't even know I'm American. They have to ask.

And the funniest part is when I tell people I'm from Seattle, they get all excited and say, "Oh! Like Frasier?"

I'm here for six months, studying at University College London (UCL) for my junior spring semester, and London is amazing. I think I'm finally figuring out this "driving on the left side" thing after risking my life by crossing the streets. I've also found that combining 8 hours of jet lag and museum hopping just doesn't work.

I visited the British Museum to get tickets to their cool Persia exhibit (on Persepolis) when I realized I was so tired I could no longer walk in a straight line. Still, I managed to appreciate that Persepolis was an ancient city/castle in Persia that Alexander the Great burned down in 330 BC. Alex was drunk at the time, and his friend's courtesan suggested it would be a great revenge for when Xerxes attacked Athens a couple hundred years before. So down it went--a shame because it sounds really cool. The ruins are now in Iran, which is where the British Museum had most of its exhibit on loan.

My exchange program took all 30 of us on a walking tour around the UCL neighborhood. It's right in the middle of London, a quick walk to the British Museum. Our guide showed us all over and told us what famous people lived where. Apparently the University of London (which is comprised of several colleges, including UCL) has a rather famous senate building that not only is the basis for George Orwell's Ministry of Truth building in "1984," but also caught the fancy of Hitler back when he wanted to invade England.

LAURA GEGGEL / SPECIAL TO THE SEATTLE TIMES

A Chihuly glass sculpture hanging in the Victoria and Albert museum, Tuesday, Jan. 3, 2006.

German bombers were told to avoid the Senate House because Hitler decided to locate his headquarters there once the invasion proved successful, the tour guide said. I can believe it: the building looks so oppressive with its huge white blocked tiers rising toward the sky.

A couple days ago I met up with my British relatives and managed to finagle some clothes hangers out of them (hangers here are like a pound each!). They're a cheery bunch; when my dad's side of the family escaped from Germany in the 1930s, half of them came to the US and the other half went to England. I love having relatives everywhere I go. We went to Gilbert's old house (as in Gilbert and Sullivan), only now it's a hotel and a restaurant. Gilbert died there, too -- a lady fell into his swimming pool and he dived in to save her. But he had a heart attack and drowned. The fate of the lady is unknown, but we assume someone else saved her.