Hullo, cyberspace. I am having a rough night--dissertation blockage (that means whatever you want it to mean), boarder-line rage attack, and may or may not have kicked things. The writing will not be of the best quality, but my adrenaline is through the roof and I cannot sleep (and naturally cannot work on my dissertation), so write I must.
The sarcasm is running through my veins at the moment--I suspect I will have to book an appointment for confession soon. Don't worry, dear faithful reader, I am just experiencing difficulties with that beautiful, altruistic, kind, understanding, God-fearing institution we all love: the American bank. In the best of Southern traditions I can only say this: oh dears, bless them!
Shall we start?
1. Small triumph
Finally got to go to see the "highest"***** waterfall in England.
****Highest uninterrupted falling body of water. So, yeah, whatevs.
High Force waterfall is a beautifully powerful sight to behold. Take a look:
 |
| Naturally, I had to get in the super cold water. |
My boots suffered the most, they were so wet they were actually squeaking. Nothing a week's sunshine can't fix, though!
2. Gigantic Failure
Desperately wanting to go swimming to the point of going to a store and buying a rather pricey swimsuit on a whim. BECAUSE WHO KNOWS, MAYBE TOMORROW IT WILL BE 30 DEGREES AND I CAN JUMP INTO THE FILTHY WATERS OF THE RIVER WEAR?!?!?!??!
Unlikely.
Let me explain: for a whole week, my room actually reached thirty degrees Celsius. Outside was fine, but, getting all the summer sun on my window and having poor ventilation, my room was a freaking oven. No air conditioning. Not even a tiny fan. So, yes, I was going insane, fantasizing about Galveston... FREAKING GALVESTON.
My mum scolded me for buying a stupid swimsuit, so the poor thing (the swimsuit, not my mum) is still in its plastic bag with the receipt. I don't have the heart to return it. Or the opportunity to wear it. BECAUSE I'M STUCK WITH THE ICY WATERS OF THE NORTHEAST OF ENGLAND.
3. Small Triumph
In an act of desperation, I tried to make corn tortillas because I was dying, perishing slowly for lack of tacos. And guess what? Third time is the charm! I was able to make pseudo-tortillas. Oiling the crap out of everything, because the dough gets so very sticky that you can't even spread it or put it on the pan. They were too thick and kind of breaky, but they were tortillas, homies. I had four badass tacos and two quesadillas (and lots of nightmares because it was like 11 pm when I ate all that).
This calls for a celebratory Piojo-Goku GIF:
And also for a Selena cumbia:
And for the football fan with the penacho that goes to all the World Cups:
That was a pretty giant triumph, you guys.
4. Gigantic Failure
I will no longer fly back to the US. I will be put on the Atlantic ocean and float, like a buoy. Fatty Mcfatland is my new name. Eating one's feelings was never a good idea. And all the walking in England does not help when all one wants to eat is fried goods. And shortbread. That's basically all I do, eat shortbread.
Here's a picture of me right now "writing" this blog post:
I am fat, bald, and yellow. So yellow-- the English sun gives me no love.
5. Small triumph
Marta is back!!!!!!!!!!!! Which means I have a legitimate reason not to do any work--hey, don't look at me like that... I don't know when I will see my dear friend again, so I gotta take advantage of the situation, right? Today, for example, we went to the most beautiful place in Durham: Crook Hall and Gardens.
If you are ever in Durham, this place is worth every penny. It has been around for around 800 years (though the medieval architecture is not visible in this photo). The gardens are stunning and the house is so quintessentially English that it will touch your cold, cold heart in the same way a good Jane Austen novel does. Photos, photos, and more photos:
 |
| okay, I'VE DONE IT ALL--WHERE THE F**** IS MY MR. DARCY?!?!?!!! |
 |
| VIEW OF THE CATHEDRAL |
 |
| obvs a pond always near-by |
Wonderful day, indeed!
6. Gigantic Failure:
All my flatmates are leaving!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
First, Konrad has left. This not only leaves my heart empty, but also my kitchen, because most of our kitchen utensils were his. It is getting really bad:
And while he enjoys the stereotypical state of Georgia, U.S. of A, I am here trying to cut bread with a piece of wood. Shout-out to you, KK! We miss your quirky Englishness!
Yesterday my very own son, Raja (a.k.a. Aladdin, Lampshade) left Durham forevermore. I ran after his train, in the stile of Mose.
My bearded child with hair three times as long as mine. My fellow drama queen, gossip girl, member of the sisterhood of the traveling pants (all jokes, my friend). My poor heart suffers, indeed--how does the heart get used to living with complete strangers and turns them into family in less than a year? I don't know, but I know that they won't leave that spot in my heart any time soon--or ever. The hubbie, the original jerk, Bhuna, is leaving on Friday. Divorce, at last. It's bittersweet. It's not easy to find someone to fight all the time.
My boys, I love them. The house--our home-- will be silent, cold, lifeless without them.
7. Small Triumph
Went to a party and, as I was left alone while everyone went to look for something to drink, a man of dreamy blue eyes approached me and said, drunkenly charming: "Why are you sitting here alone? Let's dance!"
8. Gigantic Failure
Eliot, the charming drunk, was not such a great dancer, however.
Moreover, Eliot was not at all happy with the answer to the question "where are you from?"
"WHAT? FROM THE U.S.? OH NO, GO SIT DOWN RIGHT NOW. NO, UGH, THE U.S.? WHY ARE YOU EVEN HERE?!!?!!?!?!!?"
To be fair, sometimes I like to experiment with people by telling them that I'm from the US instead of giving them the whole explanation of how the Mexican Geordie has come to be her amazing, larger-than-life self. Especially if the first thing I am asked--even before what my name is--is "where are you from?" because it feels like the listener is waiting to hear an explanation for the luscious brown(ish) skin, some exotic location to help account for the intriguing beauty.
Eliot started drifting away from me, and I asked him "WHERE ARE YOU GOING???" and he said "NOWHERE, I'M RIGHT HERE!" as he continued to move away and I continued moving along with him. Then, my entourage returns with drinks, and Eliot leaves me dancing by myself in the middle of the dance floor. What do I do, you ask? I seek eye contact and try to entice him to come back to me with that irresistible dance move where you use an imaginary rope and pull the person back to you? He shook his head and turned around.
The humiliation of the century, indeed. Laughed it off, like a champ though. But in reality...
Don't blame poor Eliot, he was very drunk. So drunk in fact that he came back about an hour later and asked me to dance again only to spin me around a couple times, high five me, then leave me mid-through the song. Again. It was a lovely, short-lived, drunken romance. And the second time I knew better and teased him aloud because he didn't seem to understand a word I was saying. "You are a really bad dancer", "this is just sad", "You are very, very drunk, aren't you?" "Ah, let's spin again, yes." In my little heart, I got even. Dear Eliot, you looked like a movie star. It was lovely while it lasted. All is well!
9. Small Triumph
Although dissertation is moving at a very leisurely pace... IT'S ACTUALLY MOVING. I wrote 5,000 words in one day (not sure about the quality, but the quantity is definitely there). And guess what? Less than a month to turn it in, which is terrifying, but it is reassuring to know that the academic nightmare will be over soon!
The last leg of the race, dudes! Next step: debt payment!
10. Gigantic failure
My family decides to go on a proper holiday the ONE year I'm not there. They went here:
Who says one cannot hate one's own family? Well, one can certainly strongly dislike them at times.
Oh, and every time I complained about it, the response was unanimous: YOU ARE IN FREAKING ENGLAND!!! As if that compensates from the fact that I am not swimming in warm waters, drinking a piña colada and getting an awesome tan. No people, it is not interchangeable! Sigh.
They had a marvelous time. Good for them. I will work so hard until I can afford a revenge vacation. (LOVE YOU GUYS, GLAD YOU HAD FUN! BUT MY HEART STILL BROKEN ABOUT NOT BEING THERE).
11. Small Triumph
Shall we end on a good note? Sure!
Something nice will happen after dissertation madness is over. I won't give you many deets, but it will be definitely something interesting that you will find out eventually.NO, I AM NOT GETTING MARRIED. But be curious and be happy for me!
No comments:
Post a Comment