College Story #2: Language Barriers

During my semester in London I really tried to take advantage of living in an international city by exposing myself to as much culture as possible. I went to several plays, visited countless museums, and saw several bands play. London was a godsend for me, a girl from the middle of nowhere in upstate New York. Usually to find a good concert or museum one would drive at least two hours where I'm from. Culture was an adventure similar to a conquistador's and it was thrilling.

After passing by a giant Grizzly Bear poster for their brilliant album Veckatamist every day for about two months I thought it was time to check up on their tour dates. Grizzly Bear is one of my favorite bands, and I knew they would be amazing live. Lo and behold, they were playing two weeks later in Bristol only a few hours away from London! I started talking with some people and realized another group from the London Center were trying to figure out if they could go or not. We bought tickets immediately and began looking at transportation. One girl couldn't afford to stay at a hostel and see the concert. So, we decided to just book tickets for an early bus, see the sites in Bristol, go to the concert and take the bus home shortly after that.

In the next few weeks we were all so elated, I must have listened to Veckatamist and Knife about twenty times each. Knowing that I would hear their complex instrumentation and multi-layered angelic vocals gave me such joy, I was on top of the world! However, as the days went by our friend who couldn't afford to stay at the hostel learned that she could also not afford to even go to the concert, poor thing. We went to lastfm.com, and were lucky enough to find someone looking for a ticket to the show.

By the day we left for the concert our numbers had dwindled to three dedicated fans; Tamar, Ginny, and me. The three of us woke up just after the sun rose, took the tube over to the bus station and rode west to Bristol. It was a rainy day. You know, typical Britain, but I was still having my little parade with Grizzly Bear music booming through my red skull-candy headphones. We arrive in Bristol, visit the gorgeous Romanesque Bristol Cathedral and do some window shopping. Then we get a call from Alex, the person we sold the ticket to and we figure he is starting to get antsy about actually getting the ticket so after a quick but delicious dinner at an Irish styled pub we head over to the venue.

After Ginny attempted to contact him to no avail, we decide to sit outside half an hour before the doors open so we would be easy to stop. We start joking about how ridiculous we must look having been up since 5 AM; I definitely did not shower recently, I think Tamar might have been up all night, and Ginny is wearing this outfit complete with fanny pack. After a few minutes Alex returns her call and we're all so excited that we actually contacted someone to sell the ticket. He asks Ginny to describe us so he can find us once he arrives and feeling spunky she says, "I'm the girl with the red fanny pack!" Alex responds, "Wha- oh, okay... I'll find you." She doesn't think anything of his response and we continue, energies high with the concert doors opening in a matter of minutes!

A few moments later Alex finds us, he's an Asian scene kid about 18 or 19 years old from Bristol. We start talking about the concert and how awesome it is that we found eachother, then he mentions to Ginny, "You know, it was kind of funny how you told me how to find you, ...'red fanny pack.' You know that doesn't mean the same thing over here, right?"

All three of us quickly realize the mistake Ginny made. In the first week of London our program leader explained to us that certain words don't translate the same way, and he specifically mentioned that fanny pack in Britain means vulva. It was the beginning of an unforgettable night. After the concert we followed Alex to the clubs and fried chicken shacks in the area until 4 in the morning then stayed in the bus station next to a friendly homeless Veteran until we could travel back to London. Oh, what a night!

College Story #1: The Cafe I Can Never Go To Again

While studying abroad in Italy we were given a full week off for fall break, and since this was my first time in Europe I had to spend it in Italy. The land of pastas that would make my heart melt, gelato that comes in more flavors it would take hours to fully appreciate each type and of course, the rich artistic history of genuises like Caravaggio and Michaelangelo... Yes, Italy was the ideal getaway from the UK with its notoriously sub-par food and bleary weather. I booked my flight and the trains to visit Florence for 4 nights and Venice for 2 nights, then sat through the last few classes boiling over with anticipation.

Italy was everything I had been hoping for. Vespas and interlocked lovers covering every surface, raunchy men calling out to us when they pegged us for American and oh my god, the FOOD! I had pasta as often as possible (even more often than I do normally)!! Lasagna covered in massive amounts of gooey cheeses and meat sauce, pastas I could not pronounce, pizza topped with the freshest ingredients, cannoli bursting with thick sweet cream and dusted with powdered sugar... it was all a dream! Have I mentioned the gelato? In 6 days I managed to try 26 flavors and several were repeated. Every day I would wake up, see fabulous monuments and artworks then eat until I had to go deeply into a food coma. Italy was amazing.

So, the days full of pasta and art go by and too soon after I arrived it was time to leave. I was in Venice for a hot second, but fall break was ending and I couldn't afford to not show up to class the next week. At that point I had met up with Anna, Tara, Leah, Becca and Casey. We had all decided to save the Basilica di San Marco for my last day there and I would just carry my overstuffed (over-souvenired) backpack to the Piazza di San Marco then huff it over to the bus station which would take me off the peninsula to the airport.

It is important to mention that Italian workers looove to go on strike and this Friday was no exception. All transportation was on strike; boats, trains, planes, EVERYTHING. Usually when you think of Venice you picture a beautiful (but smelly) city of canals covered in vaporetti (water-taxis), but because of the transportation strike everything was incredibly clogged up with crowds waiting for the one vaporetto to go through every 50 minutes rather than the usual ten minutes. It was not worth the wait, considering the peninsula at its greatest width is less than 4 miles.

So, after the Basilica I had to rush over on foot to the bus station which was probably going to be closed because of the strike. I don't speak Italian, and the few phrases I learned to ask for directions got me minute long responses that I could not understand verbally (the gesticulations helped quite a bit).. it was a nightmare! I had to travel through Venice by myself, which is difficult. Venice does not have nicely paved streets and organized blocks marked with street signs, it is a wonderful spattering of small pathways between old buildings small ornate bridges and signs pointing to landmarks or famous museums. Navigating with a map is nearly impossible because everything is so tightly packed that finding accurate locations with a map that is not really detailed enough is quite difficult.

I had to walk 2.4 miles across Venice with a huge backpack, no knowledge of the area or a map. It takes half an hour if you know where you're going, but it took me about an hour and a half. By the time I got to where I could see the bus station in the distance, I decided to stop. I didn't eat breakfast that morning, I was exhausted and ready to chow on some fresh pizza. So, I started looking for a nice cafe in the area being careful not to stray too far from my destination, and then it happens.

My week full of pasta, pizza, and gelato catches up with me. I have that moment of realization. I was going to have a monstrous bowel movement and there is no time to waste finding a public restroom. Just ahead of me is a fancier cafe with beautifully decorated pastries and carefully made sandwiches in a glass case. I quickly dash inside say my "buongiornos!" and immediately ask in bad Italian, "Dove il banyo?!?!" I must have looked like I meant business (of sorts) because the woman behind the glass case dramatically pointed towards the far corner of the cafe.

There I was, just an American girl suffering from poop attack and I had found a toilet! It was perfect, until I opened the solid bathroom door. This was not a bathroom, this was the chokey from Matilda with a toilet in it. To call it small would be a generous description, but with a week full of Italian cuisine coursing through I could hardly leave and find a better option. So it goes (and oh boy, how it went).

Ready to start chowing down on some lovely sandwich and perhaps an espresso, I exit the bathroom to see this stout Mrs. Weasley type woman waiting patiently outside. I think to myself, "Woman, I am so sorry for what I have just done. Please just be washing your hands so you don't have to suffer for a long time." She entered the chokey (quite literally at this point, it was horrible), and instead of staying inside she immediately leaves and shouts, "No, no no! Poo-poo! Poo-poo!" Which prompts the woman behind the glass case to take out a giant can of air freshener and start spraying the entire cafe and then fill up the petit bathroom.

Never having experienced something quite so embarrassing, I left the cafe completely red in the face before they turned their backs on the damage.

inevitable graduation post

Well, here it is! The reason I have neglected my blogging responsibilities is because I was too busy getting my undergraduate degree. Finals, and stressful internship mayhem has lead me astray. I missed writing for the unknown masses, but alas, here I am!

Wow, I have a bachelor of science in clinical health studies! Sure, I can't really do much with that besides continue with my program but in two years I will be a doctor of physical therapy! Check that out. It just feels so great having a degree to my name. My mom just got her bachelor's degree in environmental studies two summers ago and my father never went to college. I am so fortunate that I was able to go to college. My parents are divorced, Ithaca College's tuition costs thousands of dollars more than both of their annual salaries combined and my twin brother is also going to school! Isn't that outstanding? The system has loads of flaws and the cost is incredible, but for a few of us it works out alright.

Sometimes I forget how amazing it is that we have been able to go to school and though we are certainly not in a comfortable situation financially, we are able to use state and federal funding for an education. (Although, when I think about how racism and other major issues comes into play in academia, my stomach churns, but that's a whole 'nother blogpost!) Education is a birth right and in my opinion everyone should be able to go to college. Knowledge is power, and every person deserves the chance to get a degree without worrying about the affordability of it.

I am so grateful, and it blows my mind that I have completed a 4 year degree. I have won the academia game (so far)! Physics, calculus, anatomy... I beat you all! Eat my shorts, Electrotherapy and Pathology! Suck it, Shakespeare! I have a minor in art and nearly a minor in art history. I have taken classes on 4 different campuses; Skidmore College, Ithaca College, Rochester's Strong Teaching Hospital, Ithaca College London Center, and Colgate Rochester Crozier Divinity School (for physical therapy, no religious courses, I swear).

Throughout my academic career, I have had some of the worst roommates and still survived! They have spilled beer on my laptop which later corroded (thank god applecare replaced my logicboard, motherboard, etc. for free!), given me the silent treatment for several days, talked about me brutally behind my back and I have prevailed!

Not to dwell in the bad roommate times... I had marvelous people to live with, perhaps the best ever forged with the precious roommate metals reserved by the gods. Those four intelligent, beautiful, feisty women flatmates in London are the people I will stay in touch with until I am an eighty year old sassy lady. We traveled Europe in places where no one really spoke the language, though we tried, and explored our independence in a way living in a dorm surrounded with Resident Assistants and the support of an entire solid campus could not provide. We found a flat in central London that was affordable and adorable. We used public transportation in another country after nights of heavy drinking and safely got home every night (or sometimes in the morning for the lucky ladies).

I was able to live with my boyfriend! We tested our relationship in a way many adults even twice our age have trouble accomplishing and you know what- it has been great! With my bizarre sickness last semester, I might have... I dunno, well, it would have been terrible without him. We have a fabulous apartment full of love, pasta... and a cat!

My friends are amazing, and shockingly fantastic people! They are incredibly unique and diverse. I love all of them! Not a day goes by without me thinking, this is really a great thing. When I was in elementary school I could count in my hands the number of true solid friends I had, but now my social life is so rich and satisfying like a fine chocolate cake.

I am twenty one years old. I have a college degree, a great family, the best friends a girl could ask for, a fabulous boyfriend and a cat. Have I mentioned that I have been to six different countries in the past 3 years? Let's hope graduate school goes this well! I have four clinical to complete. My first one actually starts next week in central New York, but as far as the others go... I haven't even decided where they will be! My options are pretty much anywhere in the country and I am excited to explore this nation through the profession of physical therapy. I cannot wait to graduate with my doctorate. I am going to change this place for the better... through doctors without borders, a clinic designed for patients who cannot see physical therapists because of the high cost, lobbying for better health care.... something big! Make way, World! You have two years to get ready for this, but I'm comin'!!!

Oh my god, Cheezburger Cupcakes. Yes, PLEASE!

Interested? Check out the slideshow with visual directions to create these little masterpieces.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/katedw/sets/72157617528706606/show/

Cee Lo Green - No One's Gonna Love You

What a fantastic man.

Schwarzfahrer

It is important to mention that Schwarzfahrer means both "black rider" and also "fare-dodger."

Far Away by Caryl Churchill

Last Sunday after a crazy week of exams I went over to Studio 2 on Ithaca College's campus to see Far Away, an absurdest play by Caryl Churchill and was BLOWN AWAY. The play is an exploration of a few different time periods and situations focusing on genocide and human struggle; the underground railroad in the South, a dystopic high fashion hat company and a completely twisted universe stricken with a fast paced war.

Each scene reused many of the same actors playing different characters. My friend Beth played a young girl who witnessed something disturbing outside, a hat designer for a company which cares more about the head pieces than people's lives, and I don't even know what to call her last character but it seemed like she was just an average person living in a world of battle and confusion. Let's just say she was fantastic in each role, truly convincing... played such a crazy range of characters with a wide breadth of emotions. What an actress! ...Everyone else in the play was fabulous too. Seriously.

What I found most beautiful about Far Away was how it really explored the depths of human emotion in times of crisis. Some of the characters were shaken so deeply by the surrounding destruction that they were completely mad, while others were so complacent about the violence inflicted on an inocent person. The extreme nature of each scene made me think about how in this modern age we continue to inflict such horrible situations on communities completely disregarding the impact it has on them. Though we are no longer openly imperialist, we tend to negatively impact others a monarch might with total lack of concern for those below our thrown.

The play was also technically done incredibly well. Each scene cleverly used music to set the mood like the hat factory portion had a tick-tock sort of rhythm guiding it. As an audience member it not only felt like a typical work day, where the controlled time sense but it also helped guide the emotions involved. Imagine two workers using clever phrases to explore the romantic tension within a space of professional behavior, agh! The intensity! But let's be real here, haven't we all had those saucy work crushes? It's hard to get through that professional air to even get your message across. Hah!

Although this was a "No-bucks" show and it was not considered very high-end in the theatre department, Far Away was easily one of the best shows I have seen at Ithaca College. It's hard to leave a show without any criticism, perhaps because I'm a physical therapy major... but really, I don't know what I would change. The director did a fantastic job and for a few moments it even inspired me to consider doing theatre. It definitely ignited a part of me that a lot of shows don't strike. It felt authentic and not overdone. Far Away just really grabbed my mind! Gypsy play!

Check out some pictures I stole from their production team taken by the director's father: