Friday, 27th of September… A day that will live in infamy.

We head to the Castle early in the morning for coffee and a brief introduction to the college. Blah blah blah, we are the best, who wants a rape whistle? Take this invisible marker that works only with UV light and mark all your stuff, beware of people throwing eggs from cars, more blah blah blah, the “chaplain” (a woman “priest”) is here to drink tea with you when you need someone to talk to, and more blah blah. Apologies, the blah is just to fill in the parts where I couldn’t understand what people were saying. Still trying to get used to the accent.

After that comes the good part of the day: A tour of the Castle. It was glorious. Dutch tapestry from the 17^th century, Romanesque architecture from the 11 and 12^th centuries, a medival underground chapel with amazing Anglo-Saxon engravings on the walls and columns. The oldest continuing running kitchen in Europe. IN EUROPE. A kitchen that has not stopped working one single day since the 12^th century. Go figure (naturally I would kill to work there).

Anyway, turns out that the castle is a hodge-podge of architectural styles because it used to be the prince bishop’s palace for the Catholic Church and later the Church of England, and each bishop really wanted to out-do his predecessors and make the castle more badass. The castle was donated to Durham University in the 19^th century and now is Castle (University) College. Because of the engravings on the columns in the medieval underground chapel, the castle is a World Heritage Site (the Cathedral is as well).

Picture of the amazing Anglo-Saxon Chapel

In short, what a wonderful day it was.

Except....

I walked around 1.5 miles carrying 5 heavy bags of groceries. Need I say more? It was so painful my whole body cried uncontrollably.

I thought I was going to get stigmata because them plastic bags were cutting into my skin so bad. You might think, "hey, listen, 1.5 miles isn't that bad." BUT LISTEN. My bags were easily 20 pounds... and the trek home is on a fairly steep slope. It was all poor planning on my part, and it made me wish I was dead. I flicked off a bus that didn't stop for me. It wasn't its stop... I just wanted it to stop specifically for me. Clearly, I was delirious. 

When I finally got home (drenched),  all I wanted to do was sleep. BUT NO, my heart kept saying “go to the international students party, you will regret not going.” Freaking FOMO. 

Well, now you know better, dummy. Don't listen to your stupid heart. Not going to lie, it was a great party. But I walked like two miles in high-heeled boots to get there. ALONE. And when you are by yourself, parties suck. That’s that.

There was karaoke, dancing, drinking, socializing. It was awful.

The truth is I was trying to find a way back home as soon as I got to the party. Luckily for me (not), I ran into the only other Mexican in Durham, who happens to live in my building. I asked if I could share a cab with him and his friends and he said “of course!!!”

AT LAST, I WAS GOING HOME!!

Except we had to make a little stop. At a club. For clubbing. For many hours. It was horrifying.

Because, you know me, I hate clubs and all. But this club was scarily packed AND had the heating on. It was a sauna in there. Girls with booty shorts (practically thongs) and some gay guy groping one of the guys I had just met...just post-apocalyptic chaos. Did I already mention it was horrifying? It made me want to take a blanket and pillow and go to sleep at the feet of the Tabernacle inside the nearest Catholic church, in the fetal position.

I waited and waited. Worse part is that I could tell there were people among this little entourage that soooooo didn’t want to be there, but they wouldn’t say anything.

We are a peculiar set of beings, us humans.

So, at 12:30 a.m. I broke my chains and said F**** IT, I’M GOING HOME!! And no one seconded me on that, so I went home alone. As I was waiting for the cab, a drunkard came my way and tried to help me.

Drunkie: Heeyee, ye lost? Wheredyou live?

Cris: Keenan House (You think I’m going to tell a drunkard where I live?)

Drunkie: don’t be… I’m juss tryna help. What college are you?

Cris: University College.

Drunkie: But whissssch college?

Cris: University. That’s my college.

Drunkie: Here in Durham? But whissschhh college?

Cris: oh, there’s a taxi. Good bye now.

Transition to:

Taxi Driver: where are you from?

Cris: Mexico, but live in USA.

Taxi Driver: how old are you?

Cris: twenty-six.

Taxi Driver: errr.... are you married?

Cris: .............................................................hmm....no.

Taxi Driver: but...eerrr... you have boyfriend in America?

Cris: 

"yes.... My boyfriend is in America."

Made it home. Thanked Jesus. Lights out.