Katie's Blog

Every day I get on Facebook to find that I've been invited to a series of amazing, fun, and educational events that are happening thousands of miles away.  I've missed the Foam Party, some particularly interesting Forums, several awesome guest lectures, a stargazing party, a dress-up-and-eat-fancy-cheese party, a foreign film night, some great Hump Night performances, and countless other on-campus activities.  And I'm darned upset about it!

One of my favorite memories from last year was Ghost Roast, Hendrix's annual Halloween bash.  I spent hours dressing up with my friends, until we all perfectly resembled librarians, Zorro, doctors, fairies, and whatever other guises we could come up with from Salvation Army clothes.  Then we partied all night long!

This year, by contrast, I live in a country that didn't know what Halloween was 10 years ago.  If you turn up this Wednesday evening on someone's doorstep and say "Trick or Treat!" you're as likely to get a confused look as a chocolate bar.  Thank goodness, my friend and former roommate Emily had the foresight to bring me along to this year's Ghost Roast. Check it out!  She's the spitting image.

Those of you who know me well will notice the characteristic teal shirt, brown sweater, and stylish necklace.  (Actually, Emily, can I borrow that necklace when I get back to Hendrix?)  It's a very convincing representation!  I wear teal so often that Crayola is preparing to phase out Robin's Egg Blue crayons in favor of Katie Rice Teal.  The brown sweater is identical to the one I wore just yesterday.  Even the glasses are similar! 

Also note my dear friend Julia's clever Starving (or is it Dying of Thirst?) Artist costume.  Another friend of mine went as a woodland fairy, another as an adorable dinosaur.  Oh, what a good holiday!

Long story short: my Hendrix friends and Halloween are awesome and I miss them both a lot.  The fact that "I" was at Ghost Roast this year almost makes up for the fact that I'm missing the Harry Potter-themed "A Very Harry Halloween" party.  Almost.  Someone save me some butterbeer, eh?

There's just something about Belgium that makes me incapable of getting to where I need to go.  Back in August when I needed to catch a flight from Brussels, I arrived at the airport a full three hours before my flight was scheduled to leave.  The only problem was, I went to the wrong airport.  Despite immediately taking the train back to central Brussels and then out to the other airport (Brussels South Charleroi Airport), I missed my flight.

Although I then had to pay some exorbitant amount of money to take the Eurostar across the English Channel, I didn't hold anything against Belgium in general.  In fact, I liked Belgium so much that I decided to go back last weekend -- my third visit in three months!  My friend Laura and I headed to Bruges and Brussels to partake of the fantastic Belgian french fries, waffles, chocolate and beer.

We left our apartment building at 3:15 p.m.  After a delay, our flight left at 8:35.  We got into Brussels around 10:30, local time.  Our bus, which was headed straight to Bruges, was set to leave at 11:30.  After a super-healthy dinner of paprika-flavored potato chips and Mars bars, we headed out to the bus stop and joined the long line of folks (presumably) waiting for the bus to begin loading.  We stood patiently next to the bus for fifteen minutes, until it pulled away without warning.  Not a single person had boarded!  As it turned out, everyone else in the line was just waiting for the bus to Brussels.

Since the bus we watched drive off was the last one headed to Bruges that night, Laura and I snuggled up with our backpacks and tried to get as comfortable as is possible on the metal wire airport chairs.  (Hint: it's not very comfortable.)  Throughout the night, I tried sleeping on my back, my side, the floor, and any number of other positions that still allowed me to keep a tight grip on my backpack.

The night encompassed several small naps, but no deep sleep.  I woke up at 3 and shared a second Mars bar with Laura -- the best Mars bar I've ever had in my life.  There's something about freezing cold airports that makes you appreciate the comfort of chocolate creme and caramel within a milk chocolate shell.

At 6 a.m., after several more brief naps, we finally boarded a bus to Bruges, and by 9 we were napping once more in the warm comfort of the super-friendly Snuffel Hostel.  There we met a baker from Vancouver Island, Canada, who told Laura and me all the things we could have done to keep ourselves warm and comfortable.  We also met up with my twin sister, who came to Belgium (from Paris) to visit, since we hadn't seen each other since mid-August.  The four of us went together to a local Chocolate Museum, where we learned really interesting things about my favorite sweet.

Here's a round-up of everything I learned this weekend:

• Always ask why no one has boarded the bus yet!
• Don't bother sleeping on the benches; the air circulates underneath and around you, keeping you cold all night.  If you huddle up on one spot of floor, preferably with some extra clothing underneath you for cushion and warmth, you're much more likely to be comfortable.
• I love my sister!  I miss her when she's far away!
• If you buy a little wooden box of cheese and put it in the oven or microwave until the cheese is all melty, it makes a great, easy fondue or cheese spread.
• A meal is always tastier if it costs less than three euros.
• Statues of Jesus sometimes appear to be statues of homeless men sleeping on the ground (perhaps in airports).  When that is the case, and the statue is in Brussels, it's good luck to touch the statue.
• Teenage boys are universally crude, no matter their national origins.

And last but not least, here's what I learned about chocolate.  They seemed a little suspect to me, coming from a museum whose gift shop was trying to unload some expensive boxes of gourmet chocolates:

• Belgian chocolate is "so good, with such a strong worldwide reputation" because the Belgians grind their chocolate to 20 microns, which is lower than the degree of sensitivity of the tongue.  Americans, on the other hand, grind to 30-35 microns.
• Chocolate prevents cavities!  Cocoa has three substances with "strong anti-cavity properties": tannins, fluoride, and phosphates.
• Chocolate does not make the eater become "liverish" (whatever that means).
• Chocolate does not make the eater fat unless he or she is fat to begin with.
• Chocolate fights cholesterol.

Here's a sweet picture of chocolate fighting cholesterol.  Jolly good show!

You'll be happy to know that, even after consuming a delicious apple beer and a tasty peach lambic beer, I was able to make it back to the Charleroi Airport and back to London.  I've finally got the hang of travel in Belgium!  Or at least the Jesus statue endowed me with good luck.  Too bad I'm not going back anytime soon.  They'll have changed the whole system by then!

My friends Courtney and William and I packed our bags and headed out into the wide world of non-English speakers for 10 days.  Salzburg, Hallstatt, Vienna, Budapest, Prague, and Wroclaw.  (Austria, Hungary, the Czech Republic, and Poland.)  Yeah, we did 'em.

It was actually refreshing to get back to pantomiming for food.  I had become fluent enough in German to read menus in Austria and ask whether the meals in question were vegetarian, or whether they were served warm.  (Granted, that only requires the knowledge of two words: vegetarische and warm.  But I pronounced them with conviction!)  But with Hungarian, Czech, and Polish, I was hopeless.  Pointing and gesturing became my second language, although English often sufficed quite well.

It's hard to look back and try to describe the trip without getting overwhelmed.  Here are some brief synopses:

Salzburg: Two days, two nights.  The first night, fresh off the plane from London, I went walking with two fellows from my hostel.  We wound up around a table with five restaurateurs, three Italian and two Croatian, drinking white wine and talking politics in broken English.  The next day, Will, Courtney and I took a half-day bike ride around the city, following the river that divides the old city from the new city.  It was the first time I'd ridden a bike in about a decade, and it was as exhilarating as it was intimidating.

Hallstatt: One and a half days, one night.  From the train station, we took a boat across a lake to get to the small town.  It was truly the most breathtakingly beautiful place I've ever been.  Misty, clouds hanging in the sky, the mountains reflecting starkly in the water.  Check out this Facebook photo album to see for yourself!  Our hostel was right next door to a waterfall, and the next day we hiked up a mountain!  After being surrounded by miles and miles of buildings in London, this was a delicious contrast.  The strudel was delicious, too.

Vienna: Two days, two nights.  We overdid ourselves on museums in Vienna.  The Kunst Haus Museum, the Kunst Haus Wien, the Albertina, the Upper Belvedere.  Klimt, Monet, Manet, Picasso, Van Gogh, Durer, Hundertwasser, Toulouse-Lautrec, and other favorites were all well-represented.  We also attended a 2€ ballet!  When's the last time you saw a ballet for $3?  Toward the end of our time in the city, we went to the beautiful Schonbrunn Palace and walked around the grounds, reminiscing about what foods we'd eat on our perfect Thanksgiving.  As a backpacker, there's no better way to pass the time than to think about what food you could eat if you had access to a refrigerator.

Budapest: Two days, two nights.  The best part of Budapest was probably the Great Market Hall, where we indulged in Hungarian's classic foods, like goulash.  Or perhaps it was the luxurious hot mineral baths.  Or Monument Park, where many of Hungary's communist statues are gathered together for display.  Or meeting Peter, Kata, and Szuszi, the friendly Hungarian relatives of my roommate at Hendrix.  It might have even been our hostel, which only housed 16 guests.  It was far more like sleeping in a friend's basement than being in a hotel.

Prague: One and a half days, one night.  By this time, we were exhausted.  From Budapest we had taken a night train to save time in our itinerary.  Turns out, our room had a broken window, so we arrived in Prague at 6 a.m. after a night of freezing winds whipping through our cabin.  After ditching our backpacks in the luggage room of our hostel, we headed into town to find some breakfast.  We settled in McDonalds around 7:30 a.m. and stayed for a few hours reading and keeping warm.  I can't say I've ever been happier to eat an Egg & Cheese McMuffin.  Later that day we bought some KFC, and after finishing my meal I took a nap on the table.  We went to a $4 opera that night and promptly fell asleep.  Other Prague highlights included shopping for an amber ring, drinking an original Budweiser beer, and visiting the Sex Machines Museum.

Wroclaw: One night.  We spent almost no time in Poland, which is something I now regret.  I realized too late, after hostels had been booked and itineraries set in stone, that Poland is the land of pirogi and potato pancakes, as well as some delicious pastries.  Another thing Wroclaw has is Copernicus Airport, which is the city's only site we visited.  We caught a flight back to London, where I promptly took a long, long nap.

London: Another month and a half.  It's nice to be back, but it also feels like I was here years ago, instead of mere days.  I adjusted back into the rockin' London lifestyle by attending an Ani Difranco concert.  I've loved her music for years, and this was the first time I've seen her live.  It was life-changing.  She's like Angelina Jolie, only hilarious and with an amazing voice.  She's my hero!

Without a clever way to end this, I'll tell you straight out: it's 2 a.m. and I'm going to bed.

I wanted to write a post about the fantastic time I had at the Manu Chao concert last Thursday night.  Another about the fun, cultured evening I spent at Tate Britain on Friday.  I'd throw in some comments about seeing Mozart's The Magic Flute on Saturday and then staying up to all hours that night writing an Art History paper.  And I'd tell you all about the daytrip I took to Canterbury on Sunday.

But I can't do that, because I'm leaving on Thursday for Eastern Europe for 10 days, and I haven't prepared sufficiently.  Plus, I have a paper to write tonight.  So just trust me that all is still well.  If you don't hear from me until after Fall Break, I apologize.  Cheers!

To quote dear Shakespeare: "Woe is me!"  The completely predictable and utterly cliché has happened!  And of course, it caught me off guard.

It looms in the back of every exchange student's mind: the worry that while you're studying abroad, your special someone back home will start studying a broad or two himself.  My dearest darling did indeed, although I can't say I blame him.  Five months and 4,278 miles of separation aren't easy to bridge.

Rather than groaning "Woe is me, woe is me" into eternity, I'm trying to take the counsel offered in King Lear: "Pray you now, forget and forgive."  That advice went down much easier with a spoonful of sugar-laden Ben & Jerry's ice cream.  (Yes, they really have it here.  Thank God!)

Another healing touch has come from a surprising source: the Tate Britain museum.  As part of my British Art & Architecture class, I trekked out there this morning.  When we got there, the twelve students split into two groups -- six went with the teacher for a 35-minute mini-history of British painting, while the other half-dozen was given free reign of the museum.  (And then we switched, of course.)

Just as I started off on my wandering, I found a display of pamphlets offering special, themed self-guided tours.  The pamphlets offered tours tailored for first dates, rainy days, and hungover mornings.  Visitors who are particularly fond of yellow, animals, or odd faces also have their own tours.

After careful consideration, I opted for the "I've Just Split Up" collection.  ("Happily Depressed" was another appealing option, though.)  The five-painting mini-tour took me all across the museum, and it left me surprisingly cheery by the end.  The commentary inside the pamphlet doesn't say much about the paintings themselves, but instead justifies why the pieces fit within the tour's theme.

Consider the caption for the second work in the tour: "To put things in perspective, take a look at The Last Judgement by John Martin.  Now that is the end of the world.  Literally."  Ha ha ha.  He he he.  O, the unmatchéd British wit!

As I strolled giggling through the galleries, I hoped that some gorgeous, cultured British fellow might spy the pamphlet in my hand, read the words "I'VE JUST SPLIT UP" in bold across the cover, and ask me out for coffee.  No luck there.

Although it doesn't look like I'll be taking the First Date-themed gallery tour anytime soon, I'm far from anguished.  The way I see it, there's just not a moment to waste moping, since I have a limited time in such a great city!  That's quite an incentive for getting over my sorrows and on with my life.

Plus, when I feel particularly down, I always have my trusty Shakespearean Insult Generator.  It's helpful for saying things like, "How could you leave such an erudite woman, thou gleeking spur-galled wax-wench?"  Yeah. I said it.