Every day is Opposite Day in London

I did it. I took my last class on Thursday March 28, and now I have a month off before exams express my anxiety disorder in its finest form. My boyfriend (who happens to be the most incredible man I have ever met) is coming to visit me! I am so excited that I can’t sleep, so I figured I would be productive and write a blog post that I’ve been meaning to get to.

I’ve noticed during my three months in London that it is not like the U.S. in many quirky ways that I didn’t expect, along with some that I did. Or as Dorothy would say, “Toto, I have a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore”. Here is some of the differences that I’ve taken note of:

1. First and foremost, the Brits drive on the wrong side. Now I’m sure some of you are thinking, “Joey, it’s not the wrong side, it’s just the left side.” No. It’s the wrong side. Even the British know it’s wrong. By each crosswalk painted onto the street is text that says, “Look left” or “Look right” to prepare you for cars coming from the wrong direction. Clearly too many dumb tourists have gotten run over. I’m in the category of dumb tourists that have almost gotten run over. Multiple times.
2. The light switches are opposite too. To turn the light on, you push the top of the button. And you guessed it, to turn it off, you flick it on the bottom. My body is still used to the American way, and I am constantly turning the lights on and off until I get it right.
3. The drinking age is 18. To someone who cannot legally drink in the United States, this is a dramatic change. Not only can you buy liquor in any store, but you can drink it (almost) wherever and whenever you want! It’s illegal to drink it on the tube, but I have yet to see that stop anyone.
4. There is no “open container law”. In the United States, it is illegal to walk around with an open container of alcohol or drink in public places (such as parks). Here, there are people drinking alcoholic beverages on the way to the pubs and clubs, or even on the way to the grocery store. The classic “road beer”. If there is a law against this, myself and all of London are completely unaware of it. That or it isn’t enforced.
5. The pigeons here are fearless. And I mean it. You know how sometimes you are walking and someone is trying to get past you and you both do this weird ‘who’s going which way’ thing where you sway in both directions until the awkward moment is over? I’ve done that with pigeons several times now. Unless you purposely try to scare them away, they aren’t budging. You could take a walk to class with a pigeon, and it couldn’t care less.
6. People from London are not the most welcoming in the world. I know, I know, it’s bad to stereotype. My flatmates are fantastically welcoming and I’ve met tons of extremely kind Londoners. But this is not what I’m claiming. It’s similar to New York City folk in that they are always on the go and they will not approach you. If you approach them first, they’re usually nice and helpful, but there’s no Southern hospitality. They would never go out of their way.
7. This leads me to my next point. People walk and they do not care where you are going. I have been pushed and shoved many times. People walk with only their destination in mind, and if you are in the way, you won’t be for long. Because they will push you. Hard.
8. The fashion here is quite different. We wear similar clothes, but for completely different occasions. You’d think a girl was going to a Bat Mitzvah in the heels and dress she’s sporting, but she’s just on her way to class. There I am, sitting in my gym clothes in a lecture, surrounded by posh British students in blazers and fancy clothes. I may have dressed down a bit this semester due to the combo of gymin’ it up and my boyfriend being over 3,000 miles away, but I still look underdressed in my everyday school clothes.
9. British girls wear shorts in the winter. In their defense, it’s with tights underneath, but still. They sky is almost always grey and it’s been freezing. But no matter how wrapped up in my winter coat, scarf and gloves I am, I will see a girl in shorts pass by. I don’t get it. Maybe the British have super warm blood?
10. Baked beans for breakfast. No explanation necessary. Where’s Grandma Janice’s famous french toast? I’m going through withdrawal.

Those are the biggest differences that I’ve noticed from living here in London. Cheers!

What The Irish Do Best

Oh, Ireland. Where do I begin?

We started off by checking into the hostel, which I’m pretty sure was a hotel in disguise, and passing out. Well, everyone else went shopping and I passed out. Classic Joey. We spent the first evening hanging out in the hostel lobby. We passed the time by talking about classic novels and sending hideous Snapchats.

The next day we went on a tour of Dublin led by my soon-to-be-wife, Emer. She was pretty, funny, and talked about Ireland with such passion, that even us straight women fell in love with her. The Irish accent didn’t help either. After seeing the historical and interesting sights of Dublin (including the castle and remnants of a viking house), Emer convinced us to buy tickets to the pub crawl for that evening. I mean, who could say no to those big green eyes?

As you may have heard, the Irish don’t mess around with their drinking, so this pub crawl was destined to be epic – and it was just that. The first stop was a pub where you received  a free drink, mingled, and got ready for the next destination. At the next pub, my friends and I ordered drinks called “Woo Woo”s. And yes, you had to order it as if you were a train whistle. And yes, it was delicious. We met a group of British men who turned out to be as fun as we are, so we stuck with them for the night. The next place was a classic Irish pub, equipped with an old Irish man step dancing, as pictured below. (No, this was not planned, this actually just happens regularly in Ireland.) At this same bar, the live band playing offered us some extremely hot sauce. My friends know very well that I cannot handle anything remotely spicy, so I didn’t go near it. However, they were not as cowardly and dipped their finger in the sauce. People kept trying it and not reacting, confused as to what the fuss was about. Then it hit them. Everyone was frantically running around the pub, looking for something to put out the fire in their mouths. It was hilarious for an onlooker (aka me). We headed on to more pubs and caused laughter and dancing everywhere we went. We created such a party at one pub that Peter, the pub crawl leader, kept saying “five more minutes” …for about twenty minutes. We sang (which probably sounded more like screaming) and wandered the streets, guided by a tipsy Irish man. The last pub that we stopped at brewed their own good ol’ Irish beer. I tried my friend’s banana beer, and it was delicious. Finally we ended up at the last place, a club, which was packed. By this time, we lost a guy and a girl (who shall remain nameless), followed by two other pairs of our friends, old and new (scandalous). Courtney & I headed back to the hostel, and the entire way home talked about how incredible our moms are. We’re both so overwhelmed by our moms’ awesomeness, that we continued to talk about them for about 3 hours. They are the most kind-hearted people we know and they are both an inspiration to all women. I love you Mommy!

The next day, we hopped on a bus with our tour guide Joe and saw some of Ireland’s countryside. Joe practically adopted everyone on the bus as his grandchildren, and we were more than okay with that. We heard stories and jokes from Joe, and saw places where Braveheart and P.S. I Love You were filmed. (I have yet to see either film. Maybe I should get on that..) We also saw the Guinness family estate, which made me desperately want to marry into their family. To say that those people are loaded is an understatement. Here’s an example: the Guinness’ wanted sand for the shore of their giant lake on their property. However, it is illegal to take sand from an Irish beach. So instead, they just flew in sand from their private beach in France. No big deal.

The next day we got onto another bus, but this time we were headed for Blarney Castle and the city of Cork! Jim lead a great tour. We learned even more about Irish history (which I didn’t think was possible) and I got to kiss the Blarney Stone! This part of the trip is best explained through pictures:

Courtney & I in front of Blarney Castle

A sampling of the beautiful Irish countryside

Me kissing the Blarney Stone!

That night we went exploring in the Temple Bar District, a famous strip of pubs notorious for a good time. To sum up the night:

1. Marissa kissed a guitarist on the cheek, who stopped the show to take a picture with her 
2. A bouncer covered his eyes with his hand as he pointed to the doorway and “let us” go into a 21+ pub
3. We ran into a stag party (European for bachelor party) whose members literally ID’d us because they thought we couldn’t be a day over 16 (or 12 in Courtney’s case)
4. We went into an empty club, which we then left within 4 minutes
5. We learned that whisky makes us very giggly

 

The last day in Ireland, we went to the mandatory tourist stop: The Guinness Storehouse. It went through the entire process of how Guinness is made, as well as the history of the beer. I drank a Guinness beer where Bill Clinton and Barack Obama had drunken a Guinness beer. To say the least, I felt quite presidential.We were also taught how to pour the perfect pint, which was more complicated than I had anticipated. Apparently it takes a over a minute and a half to pour the perfect pint of Guinness. Believe it or not, I managed to do it without spilling. Sadly, I discovered the hard way that I do not care for Guinness. Oh well.

I hope you enjoyed my post about Ireland! I had an unforgettable time. It made me want to buy a house on the countryside and never leave.

Cheers!

Craic ≠ Crack

Let me begin by saying sorry! I’ve been sick for the past couple of weeks and completely left the blog hanging. But now I’m back and ready for an intense update. This blog post is about my trip to Scotland, and the next will be about Ireland. While most people were actually reading during “Reading Week”, some of my friends and I went on a short European adventure. Here we go:

We suffered on the most uncomfortable bus ride of my life through the night. Keep in mind that I can fall asleep practically anywhere, and I could not get an ounce of shut eye on this bus. We were thrilled to get to the hostel and take a nap, to then realize that check in was not until 2 pm. It was 9 am. So instead we grabbed breakfast in the hostel’s kitchen and passed out on their couches until 11 am.

That’s when we headed over to the 3 hour walking tour of Edinburgh. One of our first stops was the Heart of Midlothian, which is a heart shape in the street of town that represents an old place of public execution. There are many myths; some say that you do it because you want to do it in disdain of the prisoners that were killed there; some say they do it to show contempt for the tax office that once stood there; some say it is done for good luck. What is ‘it’ you ask? Oh, ‘it’ is spit. People spit on this heart. In the middle of the street. Good luck or not, I wasn’t risking it, so I forced my friends to spit on it with me. Below is a picture of the Midlothian Heart that I took, as well as some ladylike spitting: We saw many more things on the tour, such as the grave of Greyfriar’s Bobby [http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Greyfriars_Bobb], the quick view of the castle in Edinburgh, the “birthplace of Harry Potter” (called The Elephant House), and we saw the building that was J.K. Rowling’s inspiration for Hogwarts.

Before we knew it, the tour was over and we could check in and (more importantly) pass out. We took a nap and then headed out for the evening.

We went to a pub called the Brass Monkey. The cool thing about this pub is that instead of tables, there are mattresses and pillows. We snuggled there and the girls downed some hard cider. Then we headed back to the High Street Hostel to get some sleep for Day 2.

Day 2 we headed over to the National Museum of Scotland. I had the pleasure of dressing up in Viking costumes, hanging out with Dolly the Sheep (who has been discussed in just about every single Biology class I’ve ever taken)[http://www.nms.ac.uk/our_collections/highlights/dolly_the_sheep.aspx], and seeing a breathtaking view of Scotland’s skyline from their viewing tower.

We walked to the castle to get a closer look and then explored the road that runs through the town of Edinburgh, the Royal Mile, until it was time to go out.

Keep in mind, this was a Sunday night. We went to a club and were the only people there that weren’t staff members. The bartender gave us delicious Jam Donut shots and then we headed out to play drinking games and have a quiet night in a pub. Or so we thought. There we are, four young ladies minding our own business, when a man comes stumbling over. Not only is this man drunk, but he has an incredibly thick Scottish accent and we can only understand one third of the words slurring out of his mouth. His friends join him and buy us a drink or two. We learn that this man’s name is Craig (pictured to the left with his arms over Marissa and Jess) and it turns out that he made our night, and our trip to Scotland. He gave us each nicknames (mine was a young Rachel Weisz, which I took as a compliment since she’s married to ‘James Bond’, who the Scottish are obsessed with) and convinced us to go to a club. We went to a club and avoided sexual contact with Craig all night long, which included telling him that we were all lesbians. I can’t describe Craig in words and do him justice, because he is actually that ridiculous. Think of what a drunk Scottish child would say, and Craig said it in an even more outrageous way. This is how we learned what craic is (pronounced “crack”). Craig asked Jessica and me if we “wanted to have craic tonight”. We turn to each other and then asked him, “Like cocaine?” He could tell by the surprised look on our faces that we were freaked out by what he said. Thank goodness he explained himself. Turns out that “craic” means fun! And we made sure to have craic the rest of the trip.

The next day we decided to conquer Arthur’s Seat. For those of you who don’t know, Arthur’s seat is an extinct volcano which gives you an indescribable view of Edinburgh once you get up top. We did not know however that when we climbed up, we took some advanced hikers’ trail. We were not in hiking gear, and especially not hiking shoes (Courtney was wearing boots with heels). We struggled and sweat a bit, but we finally got to the top. And this is why it was worth it: Make sure you click on these pictures (and all of the ones in the post) too see them full size!

That night we went on a ghost tour. This tour included super-creepy stories and super-creepy secret rooms hidden in one of Edinburgh’s bridges. If I talk about it in any more detail, I may have nightmares.

In conclusion, I had so much craic in Scotland and I hope you enjoyed reading about it. Cheers!

P.S. Coming soon is my trip to Ireland!

Sorry for Slacking

Hi everyone! I’m sorry I’ve been slacking on blog posts. I just had a week vacation where I visited Scotland and Ireland and I can’t wait to share it with you. But I don’t have the time right this second because I have a practical today (wish me luck!).

I promise I’ll be updating you on my week, but in the meantime, here’s a preview of what’s to come:

Cheers!

Struggle Bus to Belgium

Thursday

So Court and I woke up at the crack of dawn after “sleeping” (aka a three hour nap) and got ready to head to Brussels. We had to take the tube to the bus so we left at 6:50 am for the 8 am bus. When we left to go walk to the tube stop, it was pouring. So we changed into rain boots and trekked to the tube stop in the rain as our suitcases and sweatshirts got soaked. After a thirty minute tube ride, we finally got to the bus station! …or so we thought. Apparently the bus station was outside of the tube, through the national rail station, across the street, through an overpass, across the street again, inside double doors, back outside and then back through another set of doors. By the time we figured that out, it was 5 before 8 and check in had closed.

Luckily, there was a 9:30 am bus to Brussels! They had us wait until 9:15 to check in, and that time actually flew by. We finally had our official tickets! But after over an hour in the bus station with birds flying all around and barely any heat, anyone would get antsy. So when 9:30 rolled around, we were pumped to get onto the bus. Then at 9:30, they made an announcement. And we started to gather our luggage. And we stopped. The announcement was not that the bus was boarding, but that the bus was delayed forty-five minutes (which turned out to be an hour). Of course. So, we waited. I was coughing up a storm and Courtney’s back had given up on her, but we sat and waited and discussed how awesome the Pats are. (Courtney hates the Pats.) So at 10:30 the bus finally arrived and we got on!

After driving along for a few hours (it’s about an eight hour ride), we go into a tunnel and just stopped. Great. We sat there for what seemed like forever. We were in such heavy traffic that the bus driver came back and answered someone’s question! So I asked, “Excuse me, what are we waiting for?” He giggled and said, “We’re in the English Channel”. Turns out the dumb American thought that the boat/vessel carrying us through the sea was a tunnel with traffic. That explained the light rocking of the bus…..

Skip through a lot of sleeping and ta-da! We had arrived in Brussels, Belgium! We were ecstatic. Now all we had to do was find the hostel. Easier said than done. The hostel was walking distance from the bus station, which was great. What wasn’t great was that the directions were in broken English. And by broken English I mean that they made no sense. It must have been very amusing to an onlooker to see these two young, American girls with no sense of direction wandering around with suitcases past stores like “Sexy City” and “Erotique”. Instead of a ten minute walk, it turned into a thirty minute struggle.

But then we found the hostel. We were done and we could relax and get dinner! Just kidding. My card was declined. Backtrack a few moments before to me on the bus frantically emailing Mommy to make sure that I had enough money on my debit card to pay for the hostel. I didn’t. So she transferred money (Thanks again Mom!) and I thought that was that. Turns out, ING loves to take their time transferring money (it’s been 5 days now and still no money). When I went to pay for the hostel, the money hadn’t transferred yet. Courtney couldn’t use her card outside of the UK and didn’t bring enough money in cash to pay for all three nights up front. What about my British bank account you ask? I entered the wrong PIN too many times and my account had been locked for five days. With my luck, these five days included our entire trip to Belgium. After freaking out and holding back tears, with Devin and my mom’s help and patience, I managed to get Mama Kaston to call the front desk and give me a credit card number. Keep in mind, when Mommy calls after all of this panicking, she says, “All you need is a credit card number?” in the most nonchalant manner. I guess technically I had been overreacting, but after this kind of day I think my insanity was reasonable.

So we finally had the room in the hostel taken care of and we could lay in a bed and relax. Of course not. The reception was ten minutes away from the hostel we had booked. And because Courtney and I have no sense of direction, the ten minute walk doubled to twenty.

Okay, so I’m serious this time when I say that we got to put our bags in the room and grab dinner. We ate at a cute little restaurant. I had spaghetti for dinner and was tempted into having double chocolate cake for dessert. No regrets: it was delicious. Keep in mind, this is Belgian chocolate we’re talking about.

Friday

After a much needed long night’s rest, Courtney and I grabbed some breakfast and headed out to see the sights of Brussels …in the rain. Thankfully, our hostel was on the same street as the center of town, so we walked around getting free chocolate samples and going into literally every single tourist shop in the city. For lunch, we had a nutritious and delicious box of Belgian chocolates. If I could have that for lunch every day and not get diabetes, I would do it in a heartbeat. I would elaborate, but our entire day was pretty much just walking around and eating chocolate. And for dinner we had a Belgian classic: Subway.

After dinner we met up with some friends that came separately to Brussels at a notorious bar called Delirium Café. The bar is famous for having 2,004 beers on tap [number according to Wikipedia] and a pink elephant as its logo. It was lots of fun and many selfies were taken. Courtney and I may or may not have stolen the cute cups that they have, which are in the pictured to the left.

Saturday

We started the day off right with some Belgian waffles at Waffle Factory. To say that these waffles were delicious is an understatement. I had one covered in bananas andstrawberries, and one filled with Belgian chocolate.

Courtney’s had chocolate drizzled over strawberries (Courtney also got another waffle later, don’t worry). After breakfast, we continued to go into the last few tourist and chocolate places that we hadn’t bothered yet and finally saw Mannekin Pis. I’d like you to keep in mind that the only thing in tourist places in Belgium is this statue, chocolates and beer souvenirs. Naturally, Courtney and I were expecting this lavish statue that people from all corners of the world came to see! Instead, we nearly missed the tiny thing. There are replicas of the statue in store windows that are bigger than the real one. Regardless, we got some pictures (like the one to the right) and ate more chocolate.

So we headed back to the hostel room and did some research; someone had mentioned a beer festival was going on. We did some intense Googling and found out that the 6th Annual Beerfest in Brugge was that day! After going to the tourist center and finding out how to get to Brugge by train, we headed off to a beer festival. I mean, who could pass up a Belgian Beerfest?! I used the last of my money to get the train ticket and we headed on the next train to Brugge, Belgium. As we were sitting on the train ride there, I turned to Courtney and asked, “What if we walk out of the station and the Beerfest isn’t there?” Clearly we hadn’t thought that far ahead, but it was too late now. We got to the station and there was no Beerfest in sight. Thank goodness I have no shame because I literally started asking everyone around where it was. Finally, we discovered that it was in the center of the town, a twenty minute walk away.

As we got closer, we saw more and more people with beer glasses. We eventually found the Beerfest, only to discover that although admission was free, it was ten euros for a package (tokens for beer and a glass), money I clearly didn’t have. So Courtney and I may or may not have managed to get glasses and one and a half drinks each (as maybe shown on the left). The second beer was the most delicious beer I’ve ever had in my life, some sort of berrylicious concoction. Then we headed back to the train station (we actually didn’t get lost!) and went home. We crashed and then woke up bright and early for our eight hour bus ride back home.

To end our struggle of a trip, the tube line that took us home from the bus was closed, so we had to transfer, ending the trip just the way it had started. Regardless of all of these bumps in the road, we still managed to have an awesome trip and survive our first endeavor in Europe.

Mo’ Homework Mo’ Problems

I’m starting my third week in London and it seems that I’m in denial. I’m in denial that I’m not just here to hang out with new friends, eat food, go clubbing and bar hopping, and sleep. No, it looks like I’m also signed up for classes at Queen Mary University of London. I don’t know how it happened, but it looks like I’m stuck.

Ask anybody (and by anybody I clearly mean my Mom) and they’ll tell you that I’m excellent at time management. I’m the kind of student that gets an assignment and does it that day or the next. I love being ahead of my work and on top of my studies. It helps keep my anxiety in check.

However classes, or should I say modules, here are so different! Not only is this my first semester without two lab periods, but instead of meeting two to three times a week you meet once a week for either two hours straight or one hour with a break until your next class. [For Evolution my break is only one hour while for Neurobiology and Madness and Medicine in Modern Britain it’s three. Text, Art and Performance in London goes for two hours straight.] So even if you feel like you learned everything possible about action potentials one week, the next week when you finally have class again you magically don’t remember anything that you learned the previous week. Or the week before. Or ever.

On the bright side, I’m finally learning how to procrastinate! Wait.. that’s not good. Mommy, if you’re reading this, that said ‘learning how to live in the library’. Because you have an entire week to complete your assignments, it’s easy to say “Oh, I’ll just do it tomorrow”. Then, before you know it, tomorrow becomes the day before it’s due and you’re still typing a blog post instead of doing your stupid homework. Mommy, that said ‘still typing a blog post after having finished extra credit assignments’. Your eyesight must be going.

Well, time to finish the homework due… in two weeks? Can’t say I didn’t try, Mommy.

Cheers

P.S. Below is a picture of Marissa, Courtney and I studying in the library.

English to English Dictionary

This weekend was pretty uneventful during the evenings since I tired myself out, but I did manage to sight see on Sunday during the day! Here are some pictures of British landmarks, me, and me with British landmarks. Since all I want to do [ever] is nap, instead of a post about how I haven’t done anything, here is the British English to American English Dictionary I’ve been working on to go along with the pictures.

P.S. All of these pictures were taken with my camera yesterday! Absolutely none of the following have been taken off of the internet or any other sources.

P.S.S. The most exciting part of this week was probably seeing an original Van Gogh at the National Gallery of London (No pictures allowed)

….but here is a model of the museum!

English to English Dictionary as Translated by Joey

Cutlery = Silverware

Lift = Elevator

Take away = Take out

Hiya = Hey

Top up = Add money (as pertaining to a pay as you go cell phone bill)

Mobile = Cell phone

Brilliant  = Great

Going to university  = Going to college

Module = Class

Module Organizer  = Professor

Toilet = Bathroom

Flat  = Apartment

Fresher = Freshman

Washing up liquid = Dish soap

Car park = Parking lot

Adverts = ads, advertisements

Clothes airer = [Clothes] drying rack

Let’s link up = Hit me up

Queue = Line

Mind the gap = Watch your step

Third time lucky = Third time’s a charm

And last but not least:

Cheers  = Hello; Goodbye; Excuse me; Congratulations; Thank you; Cheers

Here’s to Nothing

This is not only my first time in London, but it’s my first time blogging, so bear with me.

I’ve always wanted to study abroad and see the world, since as far back as I can remember. Having an Israeli father and American mother, when it came to traveling, it was simply a given. My first time on an airplane was when I was still months old. However, in my childhood, I had only really traveled to Israel to visit family. Then senior year of high school, I had the opportunity to go an international school in Mexico – but that was for only two weeks. One year ago, I had an unforgettable trip through Birthright to Israel and saw the country in its entirety from North to South.

But now that I was no longer a teen, I figured it was time to venture to places that I had never seen before, without my parents or little sister there to hold my hand the whole way. So when I was accepted to study abroad at Queen Mary University of London for the Spring semester in 2013 I was thrilled! And terrified.

So this blog is my way to help me grow up and have you join in the experience. I want to start my blog with something I’ve come to find commonly said in Britain: cheers.

Cheers to new experiences! Cheers to British accents! Cheers to making new friends! Cheers to making memories! Cheers to growing up but always having fun! Cheers to making long distance relationships work! Cheers to good grades! Cheers to drinking legally! Cheers to traveling! Cheers to learning from your mistakes! Cheers to London! And damnit, cheers to me!