That time I almost became Mrs. Darcy.

About seven or eight years ago, I received a poster for the film Pride and Prejudice (2005) by mail from England. The package also contained some advertisements and a photo with the caption "Visit Britain".

This was the place. I remember looking at it and saying to myself "one day". Who would have thought?

This is called The Cascade. And down there, you can see Chatsworth House. Dreams do, after all, come true.

IT'S PEMBERLEY, YA'LL!!!

Okay, that was a bit somber and serious and heart-wrenching, huh?  APOLOGIES FOR THAT! I am just still in awe of the place. I know I tend to tell you "oh this might be my favorite place in Britain yet" and always end up going to another awesome place and saying the same thing---but I think this time, this might be it--she's the one, my  heart's desire, all I ever wanted--she's the stately home of my dreams!

Chatsworth House is the home of the duke and duchess of Devonshire (why do they not live in Devonshire? Well, I hear no one would willingly choose to live there anyway--haha, I'm learning local humour, take that, assimilation process!!). The estate is located in Derbyshire, of which Mr. Darcy owns half, remember?

fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-cha-chiiiingggggggg

This house is nuts, ya'll. First of all, it shouldn't even be called a house--it's a freaking palace. Then, it has the fanciest, Britishest things: a massive fountain, a maze, gardens gallore, green grass, a tea shop.... the list goes on! Inside and out, the place just makes you marvel and your inner princess basically comes out of the closet and goes wild--- I can't say that I wasn't skipping around and that lovely classical music was not playing in my mind....

This is a video of me walking the countryside

First, let me tell you that this trip was completely unplanned... meaning I totally wanted to go but couldn't get tickets in time before they sold out, but luckily for me my flatmate Ridwan--SHOUT OUT TO MAH HOMEBOY, RID-RID (no one actually calls him that)--couldn't make it and so he gave me his ticket. Oh, God is good!

The only problem with this trip was (and I was aware of this) that I didn't know anyone going. What did I do about it, you ask? I resolved that nothing would stop me from making new friends and having the time of my life. Then I resolved that it would just be a nice day to talk to myself and have the time of my life.

Don't worry, my love, I'm fluent in the language of luuuuuuuvvvv

This resolution to have a me-day came to me as I climbed into the bus.

*WARNING: POLITICALLY INCORRECT STUFF COMING YOUR WAY*

Because... you know who was coming to the trip besides me? CHINA. All of China. 

Look, I don't have a problem with Chinese people--they are polite and great photographers--but they tend to keep to their own people. A lot more than everyone else. So, when everyone's speaking Chinese, my introvert self just shuts down. BUT NO EXCUSES! It's not them, it's me. You know me, I panic, I am an introvert, I can't... just cannot... talk to people sometimes. So I had to lower the soundtrack playing in my mind so that I could hear myself talking to myself the entire time.

So, after sitting next to a boy who didn't speak a word to me for three hours, I decided to embark on this adventure alone. When we finally arrived at Chatsworth, oh, my poor heart---it was fluttering, I tell you.

The years of dreaming about this moment, dudes. The times watching the movie and thinking "daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaamn". The everythingness. Only Jennifer Lawrence understands me:

First thing to do was to figure out what to do. We were handed a map of the grounds and it turned out to be a massive property (and we had little less than five hours to see it all). Well, so, being an idiot, I decided to go explore the countryside outside the estate. SERIOUSLY. I figured that I could go around the estate following the river and then make my way back through the back of the property. 

What I was not counting on was the power of a good pair of boots in the countryside.

*WARNING: THE FOLLOWING PARAGRAPH CONTAINS A LOT OF SHIT... LIKE, FOR REALS.

The thing about the countryside in England is that there are sheep everywhere. So adorbs, right? No. They poop everywhere. EVERYWHERE. No discrimination. And you know me, I had to make things complicated for myself that morning when I decided for some reason to wear a dress and sandals to go on this trip. And all the sheep in England decided to take a dump in Derbyshire. It was like an obstacle course, you guys. You couldn't go more than three steps without having to avoid stepping on poo. Rivers of doo-doo. A valley being filled up, leveled, with turds. Just shit piling up everywhere: sheep shit, lamb shit, goat shit, chivo shit... whatever you want to call it. It was a matter of time before I stepped on one, really. I was just hoping it would be a dried-up one. Yeah, well, better luck next time. 

But, hey, at least nice pictures resulted of this endeavor:

I know it was you, you little shit! I forgive you, though, you're a cutie.

After wandering around for long enough, I went back toward the house only to see a lady that looked like Dame Judi Dench. First reaction? "Gasp! Lady Catherine de Bourgh". 

"Walking around, stepping on poop, your ladyship!"

But what can be worse than stepping on sheep turd? Well, when someone is wearing the same outfit as you. Embarrassing, really. And of course, you always wonder--who wore it better?!?!!?!?!?!?

 As I sneaked my way out of the sight of my 2.0 version, I felt like Ariel (yes, Jennifer Lawrence wore it better, sorry A). But my self-worth was restored by a foreign lady (who sounded like my former boss--Eastern European) who approached me at the end of the day to tell me "I see you take photo at cascade. Chinese girl take photo of you at Cascade. Such stunning photo. Oh, wonderful!" Naturally, I interpreted this as "YOU ARE SUCH A BEAUTIFUL YOUNG WOMAN, YOU COULD BE A MODEL, SERIOUSLY." A good day, indeed! If Mr. Darcy were real, he would have been like:

Whoever made this GIF... the world owes you, big time

Anyway, the walk with the sheep and their business and the tour of the house itself took longer than expected, so I had to hurry my way through the rest of the it.

This meant that I didn't have time for lunch or even tea, so I was absolutely dehydrated and with a massive headache. But no, this was the dream, and nothing was going to stop me!!!!! And I'm mighty glad it didn't because the beauty and the splendor of the whole thing was worth that headache and more.

The Cascade from the house

the library

Morton Pond

The maze

When I arrived at the maze, I thought I was an intelligent human being. When I left, thirty minutes later, without being able to complete the maze (not even get halfway into the middle of it), I left feeling the same way I would feel during my Theory of the Novel seminars----

Even children made it to the middle. I could hear them, laughing mockingly at me (or maybe just laughing and having a great time). I tried so hard. I promise. I went and went and ended up in the same spots, trapped, having to go back. I figured it was either saving my pride and finishing the maze or quitting and seeing the rest of the place. 

But truly, it was amazing. It was like being in the world of Jane Austen, like walking in the footsteps of Lizzie Bennet. I just needed to run into my Mr. Darcy--but all in good time. 

#Durhamlove

Besides being a blogging expert, I am also a video-editing extraordinaire, so I leave you here with my latest production, encompassing the best moments of recorded history in my life at Durham.

Thanks to all of those who unwillingly made it to this video. Please, don't sue me. I'm sure we can reach an understanding.



GO HERE: #Durhamlove

It's the best month ever!!!!!

HEAR YE, HEAR YE!

June--what a fantastic month it was! Sorry I have been away for so long, but it was just the busiest month yet for the Mexican Geordie: socialite, Queen of the Party, Duchess of Procrastination.

What say you--shall we make a list?????


1. THE WORLD CUP, SIRS!

It's the month, every four years, when I turn into a TV junkie, paint my face, go on a shopping spree on Ebay only to end up in debt and with a bunch of football jerseys, get yet another World Cup ball, and go over my allowance of bad words (the confessional is waiting for me, but I don't know if I should just wait until the whole tournament is over).

The emotions running high, especially when one's team is playing. AH! Dear reader, shall I speak to you of my utter grief, of the pain in my heart, of the innermost turmoil stirring in my soul?

Mexico is out of the World Cup.

And it was not even fair, either. The dream was brutally stolen from us by a bald, Dutch thief. Robben, the son of the devil, the man who is so bad an actor he could totally be part of a Mexican soap opera. But really, the referee is the one to blame--may God forgive him, because I know I can't. It was all going so well, reader... We beat Cameroon despite awful refereeing, we managed to keep Brasil at bay, and we murdered those cocky Croatians (figuratively... it's not like we brought our drug cartels along).

World: this is our coach, Miguel "The Louse" Herrera. He is a disgrace to our country. But he is a great coach and his gifs are brilliant.

Then came The Netherlands. Mexico was dominating, winning, and I was searching religious orders because I, in an attack of excitement, bowed that I would become a nun if Mexico won. Then everything changed in the last 10 minutes of the game. I guess God doesn't want me for the religious life.

Then it was all over. My spirit was broken. My heart was numbed. I had to watch this game in mute and being completely silent because I was watching in the adjacent room to the church while mass was being celebrated. So I had to keep it all in. I imploded.

Do I care who wins anymore? As long as it's not the Thieverlands, I'm fine. Go on world, keep spinning without me. I am dead inside. I have no dreams and hopes anymore. And don't tell me, reader, that there's always a next time. Because I've been watching the World Cup since 1994 and have always had to hear those words. For twenty years. I suppose somethings are just not meant to be. I will have to be satisfied with our U-17 championships, our beautiful beaches, and our delicious food. You can't have it all.


2. Castle Day!

A day to basically drink until you drop. But you know me, I don't do that stuff... mainly because I'm too poor to become an alcoholic. So I spent the day playing Jenga, looking at posh people around the Castle, and errr.... I don't even remember what else. We left pretty early. OH YEAH---FOOD.

3. Sports Day.

So basically there was a day-long footie tournament. We played well and reached the semifinals, only to lost against the devil's own Trevelyan College. They have a player who plays for the university's team and she is VICIOUS ( I can think of a better word to describe her, but I know my mother will be reading this). And the worst part is that we have the same name. DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAMMMMMITTTTTT!!!!! That punk is disgracing the most beautiful name on earth with her Robben-like acting and her Neymaresque antics. AND WE LOST AGAINST HER--errrr---them.

Note: as you can see, there will be a lot of bitterness in this post. I don't care. Sue me. I DON'T CARE, SHUT IT, I DO WHAT I WANT, TAKE THAT, SOCIETY!

4.  CATHSOC BALL!!!!!

The most anticipated Catholic Society event of the year. E'rrybody looking fly, you wouldn't know where to look--- beauty, beauty, beauty (and then all the other people besides me). It was a magical night where we all finally got to see each other dress up and feel awkward. There was good food, a couple happy drunks, and a dance-off----THAT'S RIGHT, A DANCE-OFF!!!!

We were having too much fun, indeed. The hotel that was hosting our party kicked us out an hour early because we were just too loud. There's no party like a catholic party.

Everyone looked so gorgeous/handsome and it was truly special. I am so happy I got to fancy-party with you, my loves! I will leave you with our glamorous Oscar selfie:

5. Ceilidh til you drop

I went to an awesome ceilidh (it's that British folk dancing thingy I like to do) and I sweated so much I didn't really need a bath afterwards (T.M.I.). My dance partners included a turbaned man, a heavy metal guy with a demon on his shirt and dreadlocks, and a tall girl. Raja spun me so much my brain was liquified and came out of my pores along with sweat (too much T.M.I.), which might be why I am unable to write my dissertation.

Didn't get to do the "gypsy meltdown" with anyone, but it was still a good dance!

6. Cathsoc BBQ!

WOOHOOO, MEAT, MEAT, MEAT--and there was food too (LOL, this is me trying really hard to make you laugh, but when I started writing "meat" I actually did mean "beef"... cheap shot).

I helped our legendary chef Marta (who will never see this as she utterly refuses to read my blog) to make some delish burgers---ah, you know, my one true talent is burger-making and I am called to feed the masses and give them a glimpse of heavenly happiness with each bite of their burger. You're welcome, world.

Another day of fun and food and awesomeness. We cooked, we ate, we talked, we played a little football, someone got hit with the football on a very sensitive area, we laughed a lot, we ate some more, we had tea, we watched the Chronicles of Narnia (I didn't cry. Of course I didn't. Why would ask that? I cried).

LUCY, I LOVE YOU SO MUCH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

7. Austen day!!

That's right---could you doubt it? Of course I was bound to eventually have a whole day dedicated to Jane Austen if I'm living in England! DUH. Well, it wasn't a whole day.... a busy person has things to do... but it was most of the day. We watched the classic of classics: BBC's Pride and Prejudice, starring Jennifer Ehle and Fitzwillian Darcy, also known to mortals as Colin Firth. This was the first time I was watching this with a bunch of girls--I usually watch it alone for fear of rejection. But, at last, people who understood me!!!

This was me watching Mr. Collins' proposal. Not sure if laughing or crying (or both).

And we all got to drool over Darcy. Someone other than me exclaimed DAAAAAAAAAAYUUUUUUUUUUUUMMMMMMMMMMMMM, and mind you, everyone else in the room was British, so funny indeed.

OMIGOD STOP, STAAWWP THAT.

More importantly, I realised that even if I like to believe I am Elizabeth Bennet, I am just Lydia. Yeah.... I'm pretty sure: melodramatic, loud, rebellious, with no sense of political correctness, and in love with all of the officers. Luckily, with some moral principles over here, or else I would probably have a divorce from my very own Wickham and three children by now.

Seriously? I'm pretty sure Jane Austen would have hated me. 

8. JUNE BALL

JUNE BALL

JUNE BALL

Yes, I have to say it three times. It's that important. It is the absolutely finest social event of the year. And I was there. I won't have food for a month, but I was there. A white tie event, June Ball is my college's summer event and probably the fanciest thing I will ever attend. A three-course meal that lasted three hours and had fancy in-betweeners like raspberry sorbet (what we call "nieve de garrafa" in my rancho). The portions were so small, though, I thought I was going to cry. Luckily, they gave us other types of food throughout the night: crepes, fancy cheese and tarts, sushi, etc.

I danced until one of my feet fell off and I had to go to the hospital and have it stitched back to my leg. Just kidding. Sometimes I take figurative language too far.

But keep in mind the party lasted ALL NIGHT LONG. I didn't get home until 6:30 a.m. on the next day. Arcade games. Dancing. Eating. Dancing. Walking arou--Eating. Dancing. Listening to talented musicians. SILENT DISCO INSIDE A NORMAN CHAPEL DECLARED AS A WORLD HERITAGE SITE BY UNESCO. That happened, you guys. That happened. Don't believe me? See it for yourselves:

Myself, Bhanu, and Elizabeth partying it up in the Norman Chapel. It felt so wrong, it felt so right.

There was also a band called Truly Medley Deeply and no, they didn't just do Savage Garden covers.

So semi-famous and super awesome, these guys. They made it easy to dance. IN OTHER WORDS, PARTY OF THE CENTURY. It was above and beyond. What a night--- even if I got super ultra sick.

Oh yeah, my body decided to give up on life halfway through the party. At first I thought I had food poisoning, but after having awful fever/sore throat/runny nose/stomachache the next day, I figured I just had a stomach virus. I might have been hallucinating at some point on Wednesday (the day after the ball).

9. I got a job!!!

That's right. Nailed the interview and got a position for one WHOLE week working in retail, selling university merchandise. Ah! One forgets how much one hates retail until one comes back to it again. Let me write it across my forehead as to never forget: DON'T TAKE RETAIL JOBS. Don't get me wrong, it wasn't a bad job and my bosses were very sweet. But I just don't appreciate being standing up for hours and feeling like you have to be doing something at all times.

  Today, on my last day, we had a customer who went batshit crazy over our credit card machine not working because the wifi was spotty because there was a huge storm. Big deal. The lady had cash. She paid with cash. But how dare WE not have good internet connection? The funniest part was that everyone working was so utterly appalled at this lady's behavior and were just scared of how angry she got. Clearly, none of these people had ever worked one day in the ghetto. Burger Boy, thanks for giving me a thicker skin!

Anyway, the job is done, and it doesn't seem like a good idea to try to work again. There will be plenty of time for that slavery the rest of my life.


10. Last Cathsoc Night ever.

Well, last thing I wanted was to end this up on a sad note, but unfortunately the blues has been playing on repeat lately. My dear, dear friends have one by one returned home for the summer, and we had our last Cathsoc Night together and it was (particularly for me) a very emotilonal one (I was also feverish---it was the day after June Ball).

To know that I won't be hearing Anna's laughter, witnessing Tom's craziness, talking to Roisin about football, seeing Clare sitting behind me when I turn to give her the sign of peace, hearing Marta and Michael singing from the balcony of the church or Elena reading from the pulpit on Sunday; and to know that I won't have the joy of seeing all of your sweet faces--Erin, Anna K., Philippa, Toni-- on a regular basis breaks my heart. But life must go on. And you guys leave me with the best and most beautiful memories that I could ask for! I know in my heart that this is not the end, that we will see each other again. Until then, I will see you in the Eucharist! Thank God my Belgian will still be around ^_^


So, that was my month of June. Can't complain much, can I?