Paris: Part Three in which our Bastille Day plans crumble

After a battle with two irritable waiters at Marco Polo’s, we left and hastened to the Metro. Because of said irritable waiters, we were running late. We dashed down into the Place de le Nation Metro stop and quickly scanned the Metro map. I quickly suggested we take our normal train (the 1) and transfer over at some point to the six. Mike and Courtney agreed with this assessment and we three started off. We were three steps before Yuan suggested that we instead simply take the six straight from Nation to the Eiffel Tower. This sounded logical enough and by this point we all knew better than to argue with Yuan when he had an idea stuck in his head. So we did a 360 and headed off to the six. What we did not know was that the six had three closed stops and that Parisian metro trains do not whiz you through the closed stops, they deposit you before the closed stops and leave you stranded in a place called Bercy.

The only train available for transfer at Bercy at the 14. This left us with very little choice than to get on the 14 and do what we could with it. After consulting yet another map and time dwindling, we thought it was a good idea to take the 14 one stop to the C train, which looked very much like it looked around conveniently dropping us at the Eiffel Tower. We successfully made it to the connection stop but soon found ourselves hopelessly lost and quite possibly on our way to Versailles. Feeling increasingly frustrated and now stuck at a stop where there were no other connections, we leaped over the ticket turnstiles and ran for the surface (Yuan protesting the whole way). It was 10:20.

We got up into the open air again and suddenly everything seemed desperate. We sprinted for a while until we were all too winded to continue. We were lost somewhere in the 13^th Arrondissement, on the complete opposite side of Paris from the Eiffel Tower. At this moment of supreme frustration, Yuan accosted yet another Parisian. Finally, Yuan found someone useful. The law of large numbers tells us it had to happen sometime. Anyway, this woman spoke fluent English (with the exception of the word “straight” which she didn’t know) and helpfully pointed us the way of the Place d’Italie, which had numerous trains we could take or any number of taxis we could pick up. We thanked her profusely and power-walked on.

It was finally getting dark in Paris and the patriotic people of France were taking to the streets. As we hurried along nearly deserted side-streets, we would come across little bands of Parisians with personal firecrackers and bottle rockets. They had wands that spurted little bursts of colored flame and they laughed as they aimed them at hapless pedestrians. It was eerie as we tried to avoid these clusters and hurry towards the Place d’Italie. The streets would be occasionally lit by bright colors of brief fireworks and sporadically there were loud bangs of a nearby explosion. We hurried on.

As we just kept walking and it just kept getting later, Courtney took up as her mission the task of finding and hailing a cab. This irritated Yuan who was of the mind that if we were still going to the Eiffel Tower, we should take the metro and, secondarily, it was rather pointless to go to the Eiffel Tower since we had definitely missed the fireworks. Mike alone kept a cool head; I was almost on the verge of killing Yuan with my bare hands. Courtney manically searched for a cab, I quietly stewed and Yuan loudly stewed. Mike, I can only assume, was thinking up a rational solution to the problem at hand.

We finally all had it out after a mean cab driver refused to take us to the Eiffel Tower twice. We really had no idea where we were or how far we still had to go. We’d been walking for half an hour and we were still stuck in the 13^th Arrondissement. Yuan and I were the most spirited participants in the decision-making with Courtney taking my side and Mike trying to pacify us three. I argued that we might as well keep walking and save ourselves the metro passes. We were going to miss the fireworks, that much was certain. If we were going to be late, we might as well save ourselves some metro passes. Yuan insisted we get on the metro if we were still hell-bent on getting to the Eiffel Tower but perhaps we should just give up and do something else. Courtney, agreeing with me, said we were more likely to actually see some fireworks aboveground than going down into the Metro.

Still extraordinarily angry with Yuan, I set out walking with the rest in tow. I didn’t even get half a block before Mike stopped us all and pointed out that if we took the Metro right then, we would get there faster and possibly catch the end of the fireworks. It just all came down to if we cared that we missed the fireworks at the end of the train ride. To me, it didn’t at that point. I took a deep breath and told myself I was angry over nothing. Yuan was insufferable, but we were in Paris, France and there was no reason for me to fly off the handle. Thus immediately appeased, I agreed with Mike (a visibly surprised Mike) and we all hastened into the Metro at the Place d’Italie.

On the train we downed the gigantic bottle of water we had bought earlier. I’ve never been so thirsty as I was in Paris. There was just never enough water. We just kept drinking it. We finished this huge bottle of water in probably two minutes. It was lukewarm and delicious. About halfway to the Eiffel Tower, we realized the fireworks were over. The Metro was crowding with people and everyone was heading away from the direction we were going. We shrugged; there was nothing else to do at that point.

We emerged from the Metro basically at the Eiffel Tower and were immediately in a gigantic throng of people, all hastening in the opposite direction. The area around the Eiffel Tower was a like a mix between a war zone and the beginning of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. There were people running everywhere and explosions coming intermittently from all sides. People would just light a firecracker and drop it in the street where, if you were lucky, you caught sight of it and fled before it exploded around your feet. Sirens blared all around as ambulances and fire brigades tried to get through the crowd-clogged streets. It was complete chaos. We fought our way through the crowds and soon the Eiffel Tower was in view. Suddenly none of it mattered. It didn’t matter that at any moment we could be taken out by a ten-year-old with a bottle rocket or that we were a mere ten minutes too late or that we had spent most of the evening at odds and running. We were there, finally, and even without fireworks the Eiffel Tower was a sight to behold at night.

We waded through the chaos and finally found ourselves in a park-like area at the base of the Eiffel Tower. We were all thirsty for more water again and didn’t want to start in on the wine without hydrating first. Mike dispatched Courtney and Yuan to find a place for us to sit and said that he and I would go find water. We wandered towards the base of the Eiffel Tower. Chaos was all around us but I was serene. It was beautiful, breathtakingly so, and the flavor of the culture swirling around us was heady.

Mike and I wandered to and fro trying to find a place that was open and sold water. All the vendors directly under the Eiffel Tower had packed up and closed already. We came out from under the Eiffel Tower and headed towards the Seine. There, strangely, was a small carnival comprised of a concessions stand and a twinkling carousal. The concessions stand was cleaning up since it was the only thing open for blocks and blocks. We stood in line for a while, deliberating the necessity of water at 2.50EU. We were really that desperately thirsty?

Turns out, we weren’t. So Mike and I left the throng gathered at the carnival and started back to where we left Courtney and Yuan. We walked not in any particular hurry, just reveling in the moment and the company. It was completely lovely. We dashed away from yet another prepubescent with a small explosive and went along the little pond next the Eiffel Tower. As we walked, the Tower suddenly lit up and dazzled with thousands of randomly placed white, blinking lights. It was completely magical and unexpected. We awed at it and took pictures and then ogled it some more. Finally, we turned back to the lawn and wandered in search of Courtney and Yuan.

Paris: Part Two (from Marco Polo's and back again)

We left the Hotel Tamaris and our bags and went in search of food. It was closer to nine by this point and we weren't exactly sated by some candy bars and the copious amounts of water consumed on the bus ride over from London. We wandered along the Cours de Vincennes for a bit, stopping to look at menus every so often until we came to an acceptable and primarily deserted café called Marco Polo's. We took a table and, as came to be quite normal, the majority of us all had the same thing, in this case a "Petit Dejeuner Anglaise," or an English breakfast. It seemed silly to travel all the way from Oxford to have an English breakfast in Paris, but it was delicious. A croissant, a buttered baguette, two eggs, a piece of ham, orange juice, hot chocolate and some tomatoes later, we left Marco Polo's completely satisfied. In true Parisian fashion, this meal simply left a feeling of complete, perfect fullness and satisfaction, rather than the traditional American style of leaving a place so full you can't walk straight and feeling mildly ill.

Thus satisfied, we hopped on the Metro and headed for the Champs Elysees for the Bastille Day parade. We came out and followed the massive amounts of people since we didn't really know where we were going. We somehow ended up at Le Madeleine and set up camp next to it with relatively few crowds. We had hardly stopped walking when a huge rushing noise was heard and six fighter planes soared by overhead with red, white and blue colored exhaust making a French flag. It was amazing and the planes were followed by other configurations. Soon after the air force was done showing off, the parade arrived at Le Madeleine. It was a military parade. Prior to this, I'd never been to a military parade and didn't really grasp the differences between a military parade and a normal, American parade. I was expecting marching bands, bagpipes, perhaps some floats and people waving cheerily from cars. Military parades do not have any of this, except the army marching band. As we stood there, completely awed, unit after unit marched by in complete unison, some singing, others parading silently by. After the units came the military vehicles, each larger than the one before it. Even as we marveled at a passing tank and exclaimed how no other tank could possibly be bigger than that one, the next tank would come and sure enough be bigger. It was awesome in the most traditional sense of the word. I can't imagine what an American military parade would be like, this French one was quite intimidating and fearsome.

Eventually the parade of deadly weapons ceased and, after sticking around for a bit, we decided to head to the Tuileries for lunch. We went to the Champs Elysees and went through the tail-end of the Tuileries. We were really more thirsty than anything so we got some water and kept walking. We weren't really going anywhere in particular, we had the eventual goal of getting the Hotel des Invalides and Napoleon's Tomb since both are free on Bastille Day, but we were just heading in that general direction. It was at this moment of hydration that we saw the Arc de Triomphe. There it was at the end of the Champs Elysees looking just close enough that it would be sheer folly to go have a look. Courtney, miraculously, had never heard of it which allowed me to launch into a brief lecture about it. (It's the largest triumphal arch in the world.It was built by Napoleon.that sort of thing.)

It was much farther than we had thought but it was worth going. We didn't take our lives into our hands and try to cross to see under it, but we took lots of pictures from across the street. After seeing the largest triumphal arch in the world, we headed more purposefully towards the Hotel des Invalides. We came upon the Seine near the Pont de L'Alma and went up to the edge of the wall to look at the river. We got more than we bargained for there. I don't know how a 320-meter-high monument can sneak up on you so easily, but the Eiffel Tower does it. You'll just be wandering around, reveling in the fact that you're in Paris and then there it is, peeking out from behind a building or something. I have an increasing fondness for the Eiffel Tower. It's hard not to be awed by it and it's just so quintessentially Parisian that it brings a smile to the face whenever it sneaks up on you. It intrinsically reminds you that you are in Paris and how incredible is that?

Needless to say, we took lots of pictures before going across the Pont de L'Alma. We walked along towards the Hotel des Invalides and finally came across it. Unsurprisingly, there was some kind of military event on the lawn in front and there were people parachuting down with French flag parachutes. We went into the Hotel des Invalides and had some lunch in the cafeteria. This was my first experience with a French hot dog. I'll admit I was a bit leery of them, since they are (unlike in the US) doused in cheese, but I was willing to try. Delicious! Very satisfying even though lunch was sort of awkwardly quiet since we were all fading fast. Courtney would every so often ask a question which I would answer and then we would fall back into quiet. We'd basically been going since Thursday afternoon with very little sleep and it was catching up to us. So we decided to check out the armor in the Hotel des Invalides, see Napoleon's Tomb and then "see how we felt." This was Mike's code for "go back to the hotel."

Yuan was indefatigable, however, and didn't understand why we weren't taking more time to have a leisurely look at all the armor. Courtney and I collapsed onto a bench-like piece of marble and waited for the boys to finish looking around. Mike eventually appeared and plunked down next to me, equally beat and Yuan came up last. We left the armor and dutifully walked over to Napoleon's Tomb. Even since I found out that Napoleon was taller than me, I've been a bitter better regarding the little man but his tomb was quite swanky. We vacillated between thinking how cool it would be to be buried in such a place and just thinking it ridiculous to be buried in such opulence. They had his coat and hat and Mike realized he is the same height as Napoleon. So we were both a little bitter about the whole thing. Not that this stopped us from taking loads of pictures again. Once you accept your role as tourist and revel in it, things get a lot more fun. Don't try to blend in, just be a tourist and love it, that's all I can recommend.

After a quick stop at the gift shop (have I ever been able to resist a good gift shop?), we all agreed it was time to actually check in at the Hotel Tamaris and get our room. It hadn't been ready at eight in the morning so we thought it was best if we checked in then rather than at midnight after the Bastille Day fireworks. So back onto the Metro and back to the Hotel. We were given room seven on the ground level. We all stumbled in with our various bags. "Where are the other two beds?" Yuan immediately asked, completely baffled. It took him about five minutes to get that a quad means four people can fit and that he would be sharing a bed with Mike.

Courtney immediately flopped onto our bed and informed me that she was a loud snorer and that she tends to flail and thrash in her sleep. Upon telling me this, she rolled over and was, in fact, snoring loudly quite shortly. Since she had basically flopped in the middle of the bed, this left me with very little space to flop myself. So I helped Mike try and buy tickets to the Louvre, first on the internet and then on the phone, both to the point of complete frustration. Finally Mike handed the phone over to Yuan to let him get annoyed with it and went over to their bed. I perched on the end and flipped through the guidebook while Yuan tried to get an outside line. Finally, completely unperturbed, Yuan gave up and I started clearing a space on the bed. "You want to flop?" Mike asked with his face half in the pillow. "Oh yes," I replied, basically walking around half-asleep at this point. He helped clear stuff away and I fell down next to him. Yuan kept talking but I was already in that hazy place somewhere in between consciousness and dead sleep. Mike inquired if I normally slept with my glasses on and that was basically the last thing I remember. I slipped my glasses off, put them on the nightstand and then sleep just engulfed me. Mike rolled over at some point which woke me up a little but he just whispered "Sorry" and we both fell back asleep.

When I actually woke up, it was almost eight. I was wonderfully groggy and happy as I was nudged awake and up out of bed. On the way from the Metro to our Hotel, we had stopped at a grocery store for provisions for the night's fireworks display. Grocery stores, I've found, all smell exactly the same. It doesn't matter where you are, there is this pervasive smell that is just the same in every grocery store. We walked in and it immediately hit us; it was very reassuring. We bought brie, crackers, wine, grapes, water, chocolate and some biscuits to eat during the fireworks. With these provisions safely tucked into Yuan's backpack, we set out for our actual dinner prior to going to the Eiffel Tower to see the fireworks.

We ended up back at Marco Polo's at what we quickly termed "our" table (same one from that morning). Seated next to us was a wonderfully amiable, elderly French couple. Inevitably, Yuan struck up a conversation with them despite his poor French and their nonexistent English. Yuan just has a way of talking to people that was in evidence throughout the trip. He would stop people and ask for directions when we knew where we were going or if we just waffling about something, he was stop and ask a Parisian. So it was not at all surprising that he should start talking to these people. Happily, they turned out to be the most wonderful people. Yuan brokenly explained to them that he speaks poor French and said that I speak better French than his but that I'm nervous. The old man turned to me with a mischievous grin. "Direz 'Bonjour,'" he ordered me. "Bonjour!" I returned with a smile. They both laughed and he told me it sounded perfect and I shouldn't be afraid to try. He just gave me the gift of confidence so simply and it felt great. From there on out, I was the one speaking French for the group and translating anything for them. I loved every moment.

Paris: Part One, from Oxford to the Hotel Tamaris

When last we left our heroine, she was preparing to depart for Paris, via London and a magical bus. I hardly know where to begin with such a superlatively fantastic saga. I suppose I should start where I left off: Thursday morning.

As it happened, Lauren was perfectly capable of fetching her own mother from the bus station. They nearly passed me on the street without noticing (which would have meant I would have been left sitting at the train station for hours wondering where either of them were) but I spotted them (with my glasses off no less) and we all went back to Trinity. I bopped around the room for a bit and then went over to Courtney's room just to escape what basically amounted to two Laurens in my room. I helped her pack, fixed her iPod mini and learned all sorts of things I absolutely never wanted to know about the common fly. It's horrifying and I won't repeat a word of it so don't ask.

Finally, it was about three and I knew Mike would be out of class shortly so I went back to my room to wait for him. We had all sort of decided to use my room as the meeting point so I was excited that I would be off to Pairs within the hour. I blared my peppy 80s music and did some more quality bopping around. Slowly, everyone started to appear and I just got more and more euphoric. Lauren's obnoxious request that we leave and meet up somewhere else because she wanted to take a nap couldn't even quash my mood. I was pumped and we were going to Paris. Paris, France. It was too good to be believed.

We took a double-decker bus from Oxford to London and positioned ourselves at the very front of the upper level. It was like a ride in Disneyland sitting up there, watching as the bus darted in and out of traffic always nearly hitting some hapless bicker or pedestrian. It trucked along through the English countryside, resplendent in the sunshine and abounding with numerous cows and sheep. Courtney busied herself with her camera and we all merrily joked around the whole way to London. We finally pulled into the city proper after driving about half and hour through London's very own Suburbia and it was a thrill unto itself. One of the best experiences of traveling is the abrupt feeling you occasionally get when you just suddenly know where you are. This happened to me quite a few times over the course of the trip and it's a wonderful feeling of familiarity and competence. The bus was weaving through rotaries like there was no tomorrow and sped past Notting Hill Gate and then, all of a sudden, we were at Hyde Park in Knightsbridge and I just knew where I was. It was like a mini-homecoming.

We all hopped off the bus and found ourselves near Victoria Cross Bus Terminal, where we had to pick up our bus to Paris in nearly four hours. We were pretty ravenous by this point (Oxford provides no lunch for us poor students) so we headed into a nearby mall and finally decided on a place called Molly O'Grady's, an Irish pub. Mike and I split a pint and we all had excellent hamburgers. More hilarity with Courtney's lack of photographic ability ensued and then we wandered around for a bit (and did an impromptu performance of "The Jet Song" from West Side Story) until it was time to return to Victoria Cross. There we checked in, stocked up on provisions (lots of water and candy bars) and waited for the bus.

It wasn't a long wait and soon we all piled into this new bus. It was only one storey but we still got the front seats. Apparently no one wants them because there is no leg room (as I would come to realize over the course of the ride). But it was a fantastic way to ride. Everything opened up before us on the road and we had a great view of just about everything. The bus driver was a small Italian man who spoke no French and no English and had a penchant for European techno music. The entire way out of London we listened to the Euro-beats and Courtney and I danced in our seats. It was our own little rave. We passed over the Thames and saw the London Eye and MI-5 headquarters. It was extremely exciting.

After leaving London, things slowed down and the sun finally set. It stays light forever in Europe, starting at about four in the morning and going strong until at least ten at night. It throws the body off a little bit since you think it's about five judging by the light and come to find out it's 10pm. It's probably why it's so easy to stay up late here. Courtney and I talked while the boys listened to Eddie Izzard off of Mike's iPod. The moon was gigantic and orange as we drove towards it and we amused ourselves by trying to photograph it. It was impossible but we walked away with many artsy-night-highway shots. Finally we drifted off to sleep a bit.

The bus driver, as I said, spoke no English and no French. His only company was his little GPS machine which periodically barked things at him in Italian. He was very calm about the whole thing but having a machine shout incomprehensible directions every so often cut down on my ability to sleep very well. Courtney was out cold when the machine shouted something and jolted me awake. Blearily, I looked around. We came around a corner and were at some kind of well-light terminal yard below us. As I continued to look around, I finally noticed the gigantic cliff face behind us. More interestingly and most importantly, the cliff was white. I immediately shook Courtney and she groggily came about. "The White Cliffs of Dover!" I was whispered excitedly. "I thought you might want to see them." She was appropriately excited and whipped out her camera.

All four of us were now awake a bit confused. We had phoned the bus company and had been informed that Euroline buses took the Eurotunnel from London to Paris. But we were at Dover and this seemed to suggest a boat to Calais was in our future. This excited me to no end since I've always had a strange fascination with Calais since reading The Three Musketeers. I think it would be the epitome of romantic adventure to shout back to someone as you're being dragged off in another direction, "Meet me in Calais!" I'm also a fan of ferries so I was quite excited about the increasingly real possibility that we would be on a boat that night.

However, logistically, it didn't make sense that this gigantic tour bus could be on a boat. The word "ferry" conjures up images of a little man in a rowboat happily rowing people across the channel while whistling or telling old yarns. Additionally, Courtney has horrible motion sickness and was petrified of having to take the ferry. I was torn between the thrill that I might be in Calais and concern that Courtney might throw up on me before that happened. Soon, however, it became quite clear that there was absolutely no Eurotunnel in this part of Dover and that we were shortly going to be somehow ferried across the English Channel. We were crossing the English Channel from Dover to Calais in the middle of the night under the cloak of darkness and the gigantic orange moon. I couldn't have been more ensorcelled with the whole situation even if Alexandre Dumas himself stepped out and led me up the gangplank.

The bus pulled into the gargantuan ferry boat behind a bus full of a marching band and we were all gestured at by the bus driver to get off. We were led into a stairwell and went up two flights before the whole thing opened up into a cruise ship. "It's like they felt like rewarding us for our business and were like 'Here's a cruise!'" Mike commented about the whole thing later. We were giddy and punchy from lack of sleep and crowed at our good fortune. Mike threw an arm around me and we all just laughed at the sudden turn for the more luxurious our trip at taken. There was a casino and a bar and a place to buy food and, best of all, the stormy desk with it's perpetual torrent of sea spray and wind that quite literally knocked my hat off. It was exhilarating to climb up to the highest deck and trust my body into the wind as I clung to the railing. The wind tore through my hair and the spray drenched my face but I didn't care. It was wonderful all the same.

After a bit, Courtney and I returned below where we had left Mike and Yuan with our bags. Mike happily leaped up to go look at the deck since apparently Yuan had broken out a deck of cards and was subjecting him to a math game. So they both went off onto the deck and I attempted to distract Courtney from the rising bile with small talk and a thrilling game of solitaire. Mike and Yuan eventually returned, the former with a bottle of gin and the latter with a bottle of rum, both from the on-board duty-free shop. Courtney was completely focused on staring out the window and not being sick by this point so we left her be. Mike and I started to get some concrete plans in order for the next few days (in Paris!). The whole ferry ride was surprisingly short and, before we knew it or could really process that we were on a boat, it was time to go back down to the bus.

We drove out of Calais and into the French countryside. It was completely black on all sides so we couldn't admire it as we had the English. So we all settled down and tried to get some sleep since, by this point, it was somewhere around two or three in the morning. This was our hotel for the night and we had to make the best of it. I had great trouble sleeping and wished fervently for a neck pillow but didn't have anything. I fidgeted around, catching little seven-minute stretches of sleep before being uncomfortably jarred awake by something or other. I kept giving up and my neck just got more and more sore as the sun started to rise. The countryside was monotonous as it came into view and I wanted to sleep more than anything.

I dozed until Paris. Our 7am entrance into Paris was anticlimactic at best since the bus depot was located in the 20^th Arrondissement, which is almost outside the city proper. But we were there, in Paris and that gave me a little adrenalin to run on. We got ourselves onto the proper Metro and I almost dozed off on the ride over to the Hotel Tamaris. We got out and found ourselves on the Avenue de Dr. Arnold Netter. Our Hotel was no where in sight. As it happened, had we merely crossed the boulevard before us and walked about five feet, we would have seen both the correct road and the sign for the Hotel Tamaris, but, instead, we wandered off, sporadically asking random people for directions. Yuan abruptly knew bits of French and we would accost people off the street but then not understand what they were saying back. I was extremely shy and nervous about using my French so we didn't really get anywhere. Worse still, no one seemed to have heard of either the street or the hotel. When I tried to speak French, they didn't understand what I was saying. It was quite demoralizing. Finally, a group of Middle Eastern bakers directed us to a Chinese magazine shop that they thought would help. I went up to grandfatherly proprietor of the place and asked once more where the hotel was. He had no idea but drew us a map that would get us to the street the hotel was supposed to be on. I talked to him in extremely broken French and he just nodded and finally handed me the map. There was a little "x" in the lower left-hand corner with the label, "You're here." He knew English.

Feeling more than a little foolish, we left the shop and took the roundabout way to the street which eventually led us to about 100 feet from Dr. Arnold Netter's street. There was the Hotel Tamaris and we all trudged in, hoping things we would easier now that we had at least found the hotel.

Wednesday, July 12th

I spent the afternoon sequestered in the Trinity College Library. The library has a sort of comforting mustiness and echo of time about it. The ceilings are remarkably high with plaster decorations on them. At some point in the college's history, a second level of books was added for all the books pertaining to divinity so that they might be closer to the heavens. A winding wooden staircase leads up to the second level. Since I had no need for a divinity book, I had no need to go up there but if I ever felt like playing the tourist I would venture up. Every time I turned the page the sound of the paper would echo into the basically deserted space.

I thought it would be stifling in there, both temperature-wise and atmosphere-wise, but it was quite relaxing. Whoever designed that library knew what they were doing. It has this wonderful feeling of just libraryness that is indefinable. A few times it occurred to me how much more technologically advanced Smith's library is but that really was nothing in comparison with the feeling that emanates from Trinity College Library. It was a completely calming experience to sit in the leather chairs, read what former students had scribbled on the long, semi-divided table in their moments of academic distress (often written in other languages, including Latin) and pour over a ponderous volume of Edmund Burke.

We got to dinner late (Courtney was doing laundry) so there were only some sad remnants of the food that once was. I had some kind of vegetable patty with "extra tomato sauce" (this was an optional thing and one to which I perkily replied, "Yes please!" and was later mocked), snow peas (the perpetual side-dish) and some potatoes. Not quite meal of the year, but quite good nevertheless. After dinner I once more retired to the library to finish up some Sam Johnson reading. I was looking forward to this reading since Mr. Samuel Johnson is the author of the first dictionary in the modern sense of the word "dictionary." I wondered what he was like as a person and what his political affiliations were. Since I was reading a piece called "Taxation No Tyranny," I was pretty sure I'd get a good dose of Mr. Johnson's thoughts. Tragically, Johnson proved quite the disappointment. I have no problem with an Englishman of the 18^th century taking the side of king and country as long as he articulates his points and actually argues against the prevailing arguments of those who were pro-American. Johnson chose instead of doing a point-counterpoint to ridicule the arguments of the pro-Americans and deride them at every turn. It was quite disappointing to turn up for some real debate only to get mockery and a distinct sense of the ridiculous from Mr. Johnson. That's not an argument, that's evading the question with smoke and mirrors. It didn't reflect well on the King's cause for me.

Upon finishing up Johnson, I headed back to my room only to find Lauren blaring the Doors as loud as she could. Within seconds she had whisked away on some errand, leaving me, the room and the Doors screeching out a heinous version of Van Morrison's "Gloria." I had no idea where she'd gotten off to, switched the music to the Doobie Brothers (alphabetically near the Doors) and headed off for Courtney's room. There I did some law readings (all regarding international law on the national stage and, conversely, national law on the international stage. Suffice to say, the relationship between treaties and municipal US law is extraordinarily convoluted.) and wrote up my presentation. Courtney had another film viewing (yet another version of Macbeth) at 10pm so I left her then and went back to my room. This was all but immediately intolerable. Happily, Mike came back from his film screening a little after ten and said I could come up to his room if I liked (and "bring your laptop, law library, whatever"). I lasted all of five minutes remaining in my room and high-tailed it up there piled down with books and my laptop. I ended up staying there until 3:37am. One of the many problems with not having a watch and Mike not having a clock.

Courtney and Yuan had agreed to meet up with us in Mike's room at midnight to figure out who owed what and to whom in terms of Paris. I finished up my presentation long before I thought I would so I got to spend some time just talking to Mike one-on-one. This wasn't as awkward as I had imagined (you are well aware of my lack of conversational skills and Mike professes to have an equal level of skill). Actually, it turned out to be quite nice and talked for a while about various things. Meanwhile, Courtney is chronically late and Yuan is chronically early so the latter turned up at 11:30 and the former at 12:30. At 12:30, we all headed out to the kebab van for some food to keep us awake a little while longer. We then figured everything out and Courtney basically ended up in debtor's prison since she didn't have money with her to pay either Yuan or myself. Us other three basically squared up with each other, though, so that was a relief to get out of the way. Both Yuan and Mike owe me an additional three pounds, but they can just buy me food at some point and I'll be happy.

I have no idea how I ended up in Mike's room until 3:37am. I thought it was possibly 2:30 when I left, I don't know where that hour went. But I was perfectly awake and I had to tell myself it was probably best if I went to sleep rather than do more law readings. The last two hours or so, Mike and I were basically half-asleep on the couch while Courtney futzed with Mike's computer, IM-ing people and playing with his iTunes account. Riveting good times as you can imagine. My attentions were primarily focused on a rather large moth that had somehow managed to get into the room despite two closed windows. Riveting.

So I'm going to Paris today! I am leaving today, Thursday, July 13, 2006! I can't believe it's already here. First, though, I have to go get Lauren's mom from the bus station (I know, I can't believe I'm doing this either) and then I can toss some stuff in my backpack and go! I'm elated! It's been a kind of see-us-through thing the past few days. Whenever something's going wrong, one of us four (usually Mike) will bring up that we're going to Paris and whatever the problem is will be a whole Channel away. Paris!

The only downside I can think of it the fact that I won't be able to write like this in Paris. I was pondering taking my laptop but it seems more trouble than its really worth. We don't know how safe the Hotel Tamaris is and I don't really want to have to worry about my laptop sitting in the room all day. I think Mike might be bringing his anyway and its lighter so I'll let him deal with it. If you have any thoughts on the subject, I'd be happy to hear them. If not, I'll have to write a hideously long entry on Monday or Sunday night. Goody, right?

Love,

Corey

Lauren the Infuriating and the events of Tuesday and Wednesday

I cut out some irrelevant paragraphs about studying and Marisa here. All you really need to know from thses paragraphs is that I was confused as to whether Marisa's name was, in fact, Marisa or Melissa since the rosters had it both ways and she never introduced herself to me. - Corey of December 4, 2006

...In other news, I continue to be disappointed by the other members of the program. You might recall Courtney and I having our first "real" conversation about what a let-down the other students are. This disappointment has spread to Mike as well and the four of us (Mike, Yuan, Courtney and myself) commiserated over it last night. Yuan is very much blithely unaware of any social structure or cliques in the program since, as Courtney put it, he operates along a similar level as Mr. Magoo. He kind of reminds me of Grandpa. He's an extremely affable guy with the best intentions at heart and the determination to do whatever he puts his mind to. Where Mike, Courtney and I would stand around waffling about something, Yuan would grab the nearest passerby and ask their opinion on the matter. He's good to have around since he counterbalances the prevailing shyness of us other three.

But to continue with my most recent disappointment: In class today, we were looking at and discussing political prints from the 1770s and 1780s. Marisa/Melissa had bravely taken up the torch and was waxing on about which characteristics were portrayed as females and which were males. (Example being that all delicate features such as peace and composure are female whereas warlike things are inevitably male.) To me, this was both a perfectly valid point and one raised quite often at Smith, unsurprisingly. Emad, a student from UVA but on our program, turned to the girl next to me and inquired in a loud undertone, "Does she go to Smith?" The girl next to me hissed back, "What?" "Does she go to Smith?" Emad repeated, this time gesticulating more forcefully towards Marisa/Melissa. "What? No...She goes to UMass," replied the girl next to me. Emad nodded to himself and returned to staring blankly at the print under discussion.

How infuriating! Simply because she brings up an issue involving women, he automatically assumes she goes to Smith and is unnecessarily militaristic regarding women's rights. She was speaking in a historical context and, even if she wasn't, it's a perfectly valid point since these sort of archetypes are still used today and it still doesn't make any sense. I was quite offended by Emad's assumption. I can see where he would get it from, but that doesn't make it any better. The whole program's like that. Judging based on snippets or appearance.

But back to Tuesday. After our law tutorial, Christina, Marisa/Melissa and I stole a croquet set and set about trying to figure out how to play. Both Marisa/Melissa and myself had played a little when we were younger but couldn't remember the point for the life of us. We just ended up making a completely bizarre course with very little point other than getting the ball through the randomly placed hoops. It was pretty hysterical since a bunch of tourists stopped and video-taped our game because they thought we were good, clean-cut British students out playing a relaxing game of afternoon croquet. Christina and I waved our Queen's waves as Marisa/Melissa sniggered in the background.

After croquet (or, since we had basically invented a new came, we called it American Crocket), I retired back to my room and more law readings. Since we're going to Paris this weekend, I find myself hip-deep in work for next week. Both Mike and I have agreed that we probably should have taken a look at our syllabi before launching off to Paris. He and Courtney have some papers due early next week and I have my most important law presentation. Paris had better be amazing to make up for all this academic hassle it's causing us!

We had our first colloquium lecture-thing last night which I attended. It was quite good, actually. The lecturer was named Christopher Ricks and seemed to be the world's greatest living expert on Thomas Hardy as a poet and, rather funnily, Bob Dylan as a poet. He made deciphering poetry seem like the simplest thing in the world and he had such a pleasing accent it was lovely to hear him recite Hardy's poems. So that was enjoyable and then we all walked back to the main hall for our late, formal dinner. I was seated across from Quinn who is a certified insane person. She proceeded to shout her life story at the two girls next to her for the entire meal which made it impossible for me hear anything anyone else said with the exception of Courtney who was seated directly beside me. Occasionally, I could hear Mike and, even more rarely, Amy but mostly I sat and drank a lot of water.

We all went back to our rooms after dinner since everyone was anxious to divest themselves of their formal attire. (Mike seems to have a particular dislike of his tie and jacket. I inquired if ties were really that uncomfortable, since I've never worn one, but he said they weren't so bad, which leaves the question of why he's so peeved with them open to debate.) Anyway, I got back to my room and Lauren was blissfully absent. Annoyance with her is spreading through the program by way of the people in all her classes. I met a woman named Anna from her architecture class who is on the verge of murdering Lauren. She just talks incessantly and repetitively about herself and it can be pretty annoying. So Lauren wasn't in the room which made me quite happy and I was able to read an article on King George III from the Oxford Dictionary of National Biography in relative peace.

When Lauren did return to the room, she had lost her voice. This, of course, did not stop her from talking. "It's so weird," she rasped. "Because it's not like I was doing a lot of talking or anything." Right. Not at all. Since she refused to give her voice a rest, I was subjected to a sick and whispering Lauren which is even more annoying than just your basic Lauren. I don't know why, but the fact that she continued to whisper was supremely irritating. After rambling about how she was feeling at the moment, she abruptly switched tacks and proceeded to give me this ultimatum about having people over. She doesn't like it when people come over to the room and hang out and talk to me after she's gone into her room and shut the door. It just keeps her awake knowing that someone might come to talk to me so, even if they don't, she can't sleep. And if they do come, our voices keep her awake. And if they do come and then leave without saying a word, the opening and closing of the door keeps her awake. Just the possibility that the door might open and close keeps her awake. So could I please just stay in the room or hang out somewhere else?

I don't know if I've ever been so angered by anything she's ever said to me. It is completely Laura all over again! I don't know who I've offended and what greater power I've angered, but I'm really, truly sorry. Henceforth, I would really appreciate good roommates.

At any rate, at this point, I had already invited Courtney over to read in my room since Simone (Courtney's roommate) was already completely drunk and the two of them have a secret hatred of each other anyway. I asked Lauren as calmly as I could if it was all right for Courtney to come into our room and sit quietly and not talk. Yeah, that was fine, but there was just something about Courtney's voice that keeps Lauren up. By this point I was completely turned off to Lauren and focused with an intensity that only comes to me in moments of severe irritation on my George III article (still not finished). Lauren kept yammering on in her annoying whispering rasp and I continued to pointedly ignore her and read my article. Eventually, Courtney showed up and Lauren repeated choice bits of the ultimatum to Courtney. Courtney proceeded to pretend to be asleep so Lauren would stop talking to her but that, of course, didn't work. Nothing like not having a voice and people falling asleep around her would stop Lauren.

At this moment of extreme frustration (Courtney had had a pretty bad night as well), Mike finally came through on his promise to stop by my room "later." We both almost leaped up and hugged him. Since we were both pretty punchy by that point, Courtney and I kept making veiled allusions to our horrible nights since leaving dinner and Mike was lost within five minutes. Then there was another knock on the door. It was one of the horribly humorous moments. The night Lauren chooses to tell me not to have people over, everyone comes over. The door opened and in stepped Yuan. It was a perfect combination of wretchedness and hilarity. Courtney and I couldn't stop laughing really and we all decided to go up to Mike's room where we could talk in a way that wasn't all code so Lauren wouldn't catch on.

So we went up and I stayed in Mike's room until 12:35, all of us talking and griping and telling of our nights. We all (except Yuan) shared our similar frustrations with the social aspects of the program and then Mike showed us some goofy SNL clips to cheer us up. Both the nights of Courtney and myself were funny in their retelling, but it didn't stop my stomach from telling me it was all getting to be too much. The combination of Bill Speck's echoing disappointment and the increasing difficulty of living with Lauren had provoked by body into its most stressful state and produced a horrible feeling of sickness in my stomach. It all happened very fast but, by 12:35, I felt like I would faint if I didn't lie down. I made quick and awkward goodbyes to everyone in Mike's room and fled back downstairs where I sickly collapsed onto my bed. I haven't felt that rotten since, oh, the last time I had a roommate, back in the spring of 2005. I felt quite thoroughly ill but knew I couldn't do anything about it other than distract my mind from the problems before it. So I set about forcing my mind to other topics and purposefully not thinking about my stomach or any of my problems. It isn't easy to think that hard while trying to fall asleep, but eventually I convinced my stomach I was as carefree as a Doris Day movie and was able to fall asleep.

This morning I was stoic and unresponsive to anything Lauren said which actually worked in shutting her up. There are only two things I really need from her. 1. I need her to never go into my room with my express permission and 2. I need here to not talk to me if I'm obviously working on something. That's all I need. If she infringes either of these two things again, I'm going to speak to her about it. It's hardball time. If she can do it, I can bring it, too.

Class this morning with Bill Speck was better. As it turns out, he did have other things on his mind when he reprimanded us on Monday. He was being observed by someone who was deciding whether or not to renew the class for next year's program and we made the class look bad, apparently. As he told me in our private meeting later (after I expressed disappointment that I had botched my presentation), "I realized you weren't all born knowing what I wanted." I'm glad he got that. He was extremely specific in what he wanted from us on Monday which, while I personally have nothing due Monday, it was nice to know for future reference. He knows he has to be specific with us now. He also rather cryptically told me in regards to my performance on Monday, "You win some, you lose some." Does that mean he did take credit for me? He boggles me but no longer angers me.

I'll wrap up now even though there's always more to say. Unbelievably, these e-mails are condensed! Anyway, I got your wonderful package today and was so giddy with everything you sent. The entire Week in Review section looks wonderful and it was sweet of you to send a key-chain along. I am still using the paperclip, so good call on that one! The cookies have been enjoyed by myself, Simone and Courtney as of now and I have already decided Lauren is not getting any. Call it petty, if you like, but I'm feeling rather petty towards her at the moment.

I love you both and hope all is well!

-Corey

Tuesday morning strangeness

When I emerged from my room at about 10:15 this morning, I was confronted with Lauren rather sullenly sitting on our chaise staring at an empty tea cup and an empty plate. I said good morning and inquired about her health. This inevitably launched her into a forty-five minute account of her night last night. One of the first revelations about what happened last night to come forward was that she came into my room last night and watched me sleep. Let me repeat that for those of you not fully grasping the bizarre twist my life has just taken: She came into my room last night around 1:30 and sat on my floor for half an hour watching me sleep. Came. Into my room. Watched me sleep. Just take a minute to ponder that.

In a completely non-infuriating way, Lauren is the most self-centered person I've ever met. The only thing she ever talks about is herself, how she's feeling, what she's thinking, who she cares about and she acts accordingly. She is 100% motivated by what will make her feel better in that moment. And at 1:30 last night, she needed to see another person alive, well and sleeping soundly. She said she was delirious for an hour last night but not when she came into my room. She said she pondered waking me up because she needed someone to cuddle her or, at the very least, give her a hug. She said she leaned on my bed and talked to me in her head so she wouldn't wake me up. She said she felt much better.

I don't know where I am left in all this mess. I'm a little confused since I thought that when we each retired into our own rooms and closed the doors, that was a signal that we were each done for the day and there was an invisible "Do Not Disturb" sign hanging on the door. I'm a little creeped out since she came and watched me sleep for an extended period of time. But I'm not angry. For some reason, the sheer oddness of the whole situation hasn't angered me. I'm not mad she came into my room uninvited and watched me sleep. I think I probably should be and have the right to be, but I'm just not. It just fits in with the Lauren-continuity that's been created here over the past week. It fits with her that this is something she would do and that makes it somehow all right.

The thing that does bother me is what a big production she's making about this little cold. The exact same cold that I had not two days ago and didn't make any fuss about. She gave me this dramatic re-enactment of her night this morning as I numbly ate my peanut butter and jelly sandwich. She was delirious and feverish and thrashing about in bed and she had to clear the energy over her bed and walk around and call random people and give her love away to her father or whoever was around and then drugged with aspirin and then, blissfully, asleep. She was almost late to class because she "had to tell me her story." Her story. Her epic. I have to shake my head at the ridiculousness of it all.

I just had to tell you of the latest strange chapter in my acquaintance with Lauren. Now I should probably get back to the grindstone and reading about the General Assembly of the UN. I don't remember if I gushed about the UN Charter to you guys, but it's really wonderful. It makes you love the world that people sat down and had these wonderful thoughts and actually did something about them. The only tragedy is how it didn't play out like they thought it would. I wish the UN could be the organization its founders dreamed it would be.

Love,

Corey

Oh Monday morning you gave me no warning of what was to be!

I've kept my editing to a minimum, just fixing errors of spelling or word-choice, but throughout here please note the notes from the Corey of November 8, 2006 in Italics.

After a thoroughly depressing morning, I splurged on an "American inspired" sandwich from Sainsbury's. I know I'm supposed to be discovering exciting British culture, but I needed some comfort food. I snarfed it down and inhaled my bottle of Evian. I was still extremely peeved with the events of the morning so I wasted the intervening hour and a half on my computer before sturdily perking myself up and heading off to law.

One thing that I have discovered and that continues to bother me is that tutors don't like it if you're early. I am habitually early to classes. I try to stop myself from being more than ten minutes early, but I just like to get there and not worry about getting there. When you show up early, tutors just get confused and, after ascertaining that there isn't anything you particularly needed, turn you out. They actually ask you to leave. It boggles my mind. You have to leave for ten minutes, wander about and come back. I don't see what's so bloody difficult about letting me sit in the classroom in perfectly respectful silence from ten minutes. They're just confused and then annoyed. Why are they there early if we can't be?

Anyway, after waiting the ten minutes, Jillaine let us in and class commenced. The class meeting isn't as thrilling a mental exercise as the discussion group, but it cheered me up considerably. I love, adore and am madly infatuated with my law class. Isn't it funny how things turn out? I wanted to drop it before I even took it and stick with my history class and it turns out I love it and want to drop the history class. At least I'm not completely unhappy in both my classes. That would have been truly dreadful.

Anyway, Jillaine let us out an hour earlier than I thought she would which was a pleasant surprise so I went into town and took care of some things. Lauren, meanwhile, is still sick and basically haunting the room. I know I shouldn't complain since I spend most of my time there as well. Lauren sick is like Lauren magnified by 100 since I'm the only one she really sees at all. She waits for me to come back and then talks my ear off before I flee. The funniest moment of Lauren monologue came today when I got back from the room and she started talking to me through the door of her bedroom. I didn't say anything and she finally ended her monologue with, "Yeah, you're right. You're definitely right."

At dinner I got to gripe about my morning class to Courtney and Quinn and they were very sympathetic. Dinner was actually quite lovely food-wise (see below) but equally lovely in terms of conversation. Courtney and I had the first "real" conversation of our friendship. It was nice. For all my mocking of deep conversations, I do like to have them when I can contribute something meaningful. I'm getting much better at that sort of thing. Yes, I have thoughts and now I'm able to articulate them to others. Courtney and I discussed the program and what we think of the other people in it. Not in a gossipy, bad way, but how we feel and are treated by others. She is feeling the same amount of discontent at the sectarian nature of the program. It's like on the third day of the program everyone had already made up their minds as to who are their friends and who aren't and now it's set in stone. It's so weird because there are so few of us and we can't even be sure who it is okay to nod "hello" to on the street. At Smith there would be no question. We all nod "hello" to even slight acquaintances.

We both expressed a sort of general annoyance at the program, socially and academically. We had numerous and varied complaints and it felt so good to just get it all out there and have someone reciprocate. We carried the conversation over and back to my room for a bit before Courtney had to go out to a film screening for a class. Her tutor is intent upon forcing the class to watch Shakespearean film adaptations she herself considers bad or, worse still, hasn't even seen. Courtney is more than a little fed up with the class. No one seems particularly pleased with their minor courses, which is a definite shame. We've come so far to take these classes, they should be blow-your-socks-off amazing. It makes me sad that some aren't.

After dinner I called Dad and he was extremely nice to me as I once more railed against my history class. Everyone I've told about the situation has been very nice and sympathetic and almost everyone had some kind of helpful suggestion as to what to do. It's really sweet since (with the obvious exception of Dad) I've only known these people for a week and they already assumed that I knew what I was doing and it's the tutor's problem. I remember worrying about going to college and having to reestablish what considered "me." The "me" that I'd worked so hard to cultivate through middle and into high school. That girl who you don't ask to give the answers to something and don't ask to do drugs and all the goodie two shoes stuff. Turns out I needn't have worried. I am just me and I project that and people get it. I'm not a goodie two shoes and people get that, too. It was a funny thing to worry about. As superficial as it sounds, I really like that people get me and genuinely like me. I don't think they're pretending. I like being liked. It's a good feeling.

Note to Mike of Nov. 2006: Please don't take the following paragraph the wrong way and please do bear in mind that this was the second week of the program.

So I hunkered down for the night with more law readings. Mike stopped by for some bus-thing but then stayed, lurking by the door for a while and we got to joke around a little bit. Lauren came out of her room for a bit and, since she thinks Mike and I should "hook up" (seriously, she spends an inordinate amount of time pondering who is going to get with who), decided to be my wingman without prompting. It's a little annoying since this is basically what happens with every single guy I've ever been friends with. I become friends with him, then everyone around me decides we have crushes on each other, so I develop a crush and then that inevitably ruins the whole relationship. I think I'm just desperate for a boyfriend because I am really not that attracted romantically to Mike. I really like him and he's a great guy, but I'm teetering on that horrible verge between being happy as friends and developing the peer-induced crush.I guess it's a fun stage but I'm just really aware of everything. And refer back to me liking being liked.

So Lauren (and Courtney, I'm pretty sure) has decided she's my wingman which would be quite helpful if I wanted to go out with Mike. Lauren was quite pleased with herself (and came back out to point it out to me after Mike left) since she said, "I love Corey!" after I was exclaiming over my adoration of the UN Charter (and wishing the UN could just work like it says in the Charter) and Mike replied, "Me, too." Quite the victory for Lauren.

Anyway, Mike left, Lauren retired to bed and I went back to my law books. Christina and I agreed to meet tomorrow to discuss the roles of the Security Council and the General Assembly before presenting at 3pm. She's still stressed out about the whole thing so I think talking about it will help.

A little before ten, Courtney reappeared (with Quinn in tow) and inquired if I would like to go out to the kabob truck. This is on the list of "must-dos" in Oxford so I figured now was as good a time as any. I wasn't particularly hungry but I agreed anyway. Courtney wondered if Mike would care to join us and I told her he was upstairs doing something. So Courtney called and Mike said he wasn't interested. This caused me to roll my eyes at him over the phone, which Courtney conveyed, and he said he'd be right down. (Had Lauren been there, she would have had another victory.) I, meanwhile, was quite impressed with my eye-rolling/pouting prowess if he didn't even have to see it for it to work. :)

Note to Mike of November again: The above and the Lauren "I love you" thing were when I seriously started to think you might be interested. This, of course, only propelled me into the state of basically perpetual confusion that I would dwell in until July 29th.

So we all went out to the kebab van and I got some chips that were then dowsed in some watery ketchup that I am willing to bet was not Heintz's. But the chips were good and Mike and Courtney had something called a donor wrap (which reminded me rather unpleasantly of the Donner Party, but it turns out it was just lamb and not actually human meat so it was okay). Back in the Garden Quandrangle, Courtney and Quinn went off to discuss Beat poets and Mike ran back to his room since he foolishly ordered hot sauce and then needed something to dowse the unpleasant side effects of said sauce. So here I am back in my room writing to you as Lauren occasionally mumbles something from in her room. And this has ended up way longer than intended but since you've both been so encouraging regarding my writing I hope you'll pardon me.

I think I'll go call you (just because I wuff you sooooo much) and hopefully you enjoy this email tomorrow.

Love lots and lots,

Corey

Tonight's Dinner:

Chicken stuffed with some kind of herb/cheese thing

Curly fries

Peas and corn

Chocolate Cake

Lots and lots of water

Monday morning

As if to contrast last week, this week started out with one of the worst academic experiences I've ever had. This and Greek are duking it out for the top spot at the moment. I just got out of my British Perspectives class and it was basically hell in stairwell 10. I'm so demoralized I can't even muster enough enthusiasm to be proud that I just kept attempting to participate despite absolutely no encouragement from Bill Speck. Nothing I said pleased him, not even little snippets tutors and professors sometimes pull out to make the student feel his/her contribution hasn't been a complete waste. I was a complete waste.

It angers me a little since I so enjoyed both the assigned readings only to come to class and find such misery. None of us had any idea what he wanted (which, apparently, was a lot more background delving than anyone had thought to do) and only Sam seemed to be in Bill Speck's good graces. Sam, who miraculously knows all background information about everything and anything. The class as a whole did so poorly that Bil Speck actually told us at the end of class that he had taken points away from certain unnamed people for such poor preparation and participation. I have never heard of such a thing in my life. Taking points away for talking in class? It hardly encourages class participation.

I'm just so miserable with this class at the moment. I tried so hard but nothing I said led anywhere. I took notes, I typed up my thoughts this morning and I even came up with discussion questions if need be. I did everything I would do for a Gilsdorf history class at Smith but to no avail. Nothing I said was remotely interesting or went in the direction Bill Speck wanted. I feel completely ill prepared and I'm on the verge of just not caring. I'll do the work. Hell, I'll do all the insane, unspecified background work but I don't care any more. I have no desire to succeed in the class. I have no fondness for Bill Speck or even the subject matter.

I can't think of anything to make me feel better about the whole debacle. I'm not sad about it, I'm in a state of steely anger at Bill Speck and of unhappiness over my lack of success. I tried so hard! We all did. But to no avail at all. Nothing mattered. I don't know what he wants and I don't really care either. I don't know what made me keep piping up. I don't know if my continual attempts earned me negative points or just allowed me to break even. I don't dare to hope I got points for such a hideous class session.

Just miserable. I can't think straight it was such a horrible experience. Hateful tutor!

Still steaming quietly,
Corey

Sunday (possibly day seven)

Today was an extraordinarily relaxing day. I spent the bulk of it hiding out in Mike's room doing my law readings. It's extremely slow going with the readings but it was so much calmer up in Mike's room. Just being up one floor let a lot more air into the room and both his windows open so that was a plus. Add to that the lack of Lauren, occasional Shakespeare discussion and the sporadic hilarity of law textbooks (the sheer volume of red tape at the UN slays me), and it was an excellent afternoon.

Dinner was a barbeque, but an indoor one which everyone found rather strange. We had paper plates, plastic silverware and plastic cups but it was all indoors. The only thing we could come up with that it was a tad bit chilly out so the cooks didn't want to go outside and grill the stuff properly. We all had hoodies on since we had to wait outside for the food anyway so outdoor eating wouldn't really have been a problem. But it was delicious and they had ice cream Mars bars which are completely wonderful (I highly recommend tracking them down) so it wasn't a true waste.

After dinner we (Yuan, Mike, Courtney and myself) went back to my room to make a firmer plan about what to do in Paris. Lauren, ever-lurking, found this adorable. So far we've got the Louvre, Montmartre, Napoleon's Tomb/the Military Mueum (free on Bastille Day!), a boat ride down the Seine and various Bastille Day activities. It should be really packed but good fun. I'm a little zonked right now so I'll just email tomorrow.

Love,
Corey

Day Seven?

Okay, I think today (Sunday) is day seven but I could easily have lost track. This email is really about the weekend as a whole, even though it's not over yet and day seven (if that's today) hasn't really begun yet. All that said, read on!

Friday was lovely since I was sick and therefore got to spend the day alone on campus alternately reading and sleeping. I felt pretty rotten but the sleeping helped immensely. Everyone got back around four and was very nice about my sickness. I gathered up some energy and a bunch of us headed out to the Turf Tavern for dinner. There I had some overpriced four-cheese pasta and a glass of water. Courtney had the most vile beer imaginable (we all tried it and all agreed about its wretchedness) and everyone else seemed relatively pleased with their orders. The best thing about the Turf Tavern was the atmosphere. The food was mediocre and overpriced, but the atmosphere was great. Getting there is like walking into a Harry Potter book. You turn down a side street and then down a little alley you wouldn't even see if you weren't looking for it. Down this alley is a little hotel and, next to the large sign for the hotel, is a tiny blue and gold sign that reads "Turf Tavern" and has a little arrow pointing to the left. Only once you get up close to the sign do you see that there's a little passageway leading off to the Turf. You go through it (cobblestone, of course) and then it opens up and you're out in the open air and surrounded by friendly signs and people everywhere. In the middle of all this outdoor jocularity, there's a little sort of ramshackle building that is the actual tavern. It has the expected low ceilings and a feeling of extreme rush about it. We had to wander around for quite a bit before finding a table that seated all of us (and I was still sort of perched on the end of a bench) and then we ordered at the bar. It was mass chaos, but fun.

Then, after dinner, Mike, Yuan and Amy decided to go to this ridiculously expensive concert tenor concert. Courtney and I decided it was too rich for our tastes and headed off to grab some ice cream. It was delicious but then we were completely stuffed and stumbled in a rather slovenly fashion back to Trinity. We were completely full and just collapsed into my room where Amanda and Lauren were already talking. Since we were too full to move at all, we ended up getting an approximately two-hour lecture from Lauren about eating problems in American society. Courtney has compared her to the show part of dinner and a show or a wind-up toy, both of which I would agree with. Amanda, Courtney and I occasionally added things to her lecture and that was enough to keep her going.

Suffice to say, we were pretty gleeful when Mike and Yuan returned from the concert and Amanda and Lauren left. I went to change out of my dinner dress and, when I came back out, there were these two other girls there! One was in my Doug Patey class so that was cool but I don't know the other one. Anyway, we watched this goofy late-1990s teen/Shakespeare movie I'd never seen before (it was a take on "Midsummer") and that was fun. Then Felicia and the other girl left and the remaining four of us decided (really the three of them decided and I can't say no to West Wing) to play the West Wing Drinking Game! I'd never actually played it, but the rules always looked fantastic. So we broke out the OJ and the vodka and watched "Take This Sabbath Day." (It's the one where Josh gets drunk and turns up hung over in the office to meet with Joey so we thought it was appropriate.) With rules like "Take a drink whenever there's a blue folder. Two drinks if Josh has it rolled up." and "Take a drink whenever someone speaks Latin," there was much jocularity to be had. It's a thinking man's game, though, since many of the things you couldn't possibly do if were drunk. Like "Take a drink if someone quotes the Constitution." You have to be pretty sober to recognize a passage from the Constitution.

Everyone finally took off after "Take This Sabbath Day" and I went off to sleep. Saturday was spent in the room reading various things. Lauren was lying in wait when I woke up since, as she said, she just couldn't wait to talk to me. It's like Laura redux. I'm just so darn fabulous a roommate! Anyway, she basically didn't stop talking all day which made processing my law readings a bit difficult. She went out a few times since she was "antsy" but came back quickly from most errands. Abruptly, in the middle of both of us reading for class, she piped up with, "I'm so glad you're my roommate!" It's nice that she likes me so much and she really doesn't annoy me as much as Laura did, so that's good.

I was pretty giddy when Mike came to get me for dinner. Lauren was on the phone with someone (her mom?) and I had retired to my room in an attempt to read about Thomas Hardy. Mike and I collected Courtney and found Yuan and we all headed off. Unfortunately, none of us knew where we were heading to so we had to stop after only a few paces to figure that one out. We ended up at a pub called the Eagle and Child which was where J.R.R. Tolkien and C.S. Lewis hung out in their Oxford days. It was quite nice, much calmer (and less expensive) than the Turf Tavern and easier to find. Legend has it that the Prancing Pony in Tolkien's books was really just a fictionalized version of the Eagle and Child, which made it pretty cool. Another moment of walking into a fantasy book.

We spent hours there talking, going around the table getting to know each other. We'd start with some kind of base question and each of us would have to answer it. It was interesting to purposefully sit down and get to know someone like that. One of the things was "what do you want to do with your life?" kind of thing and everyone was so supportive of everyone else. It was great. It's nice to just be able to talk with these people. And they don't really know anything about me so it's all new and they're all equally interesting to me. I like this period in knowing people where all your own stories are new again and you're just sharing everything you've got. It's fantastic.

After dinner we all went for ice cream and then wandered around trying to find this independent film theater Courtney had spotted during Friday's hike. Finally we found it and Yuan misunderstood Courtney's interest and went straight up and bought our tickets. So we ended up seeing The Wind That Shakes the Barley, which is a film about the beginnings of the IRA in 1920s Ireland. It was brutally violent and from the beginning you knew there wasn't going to be any kind of uplifting or happy ending because they IRA is still around. It was sympathetic towards the IRA (at least the IRA of the 1920s) but it didn't endear them to me at all. If anything, it made me dislike them even more. There were good people just trying for peace and then there were these hoodlums running around in the mountains shooting battalions of Englishmen to send a message back to a Parliament that couldn't have cared less about Ireland, a tiny smudge in a gigantic empire. It just made me lose faith in Ireland. I don't understand how anyone can make themselves be that brutal for their country. It was horrible.

So, all thoroughly dejected, we headed back to Trinity. Mike, Yuan and Courtney decided to go play cards but I was pretty beat so I went back to my room and called you guys. Lauren had left a note that she was asleep so I quietly padded around. Once in the bathroom and in the middle of doing my business, Lauren calls out from her room sounding pretty wasted. (But then she always sounds kind of wasted and that's just Lauren.) Turns out she was feeling unwell. This didn't stop her from engaging me in conversation through the bathroom door for another half hour.

Anyway, I got up this morning, showered and, when I came out of my room, Lauren immediately emerged from hers and informed me, on the verge of tears, that she was feeling horrible. Her throat hurt and she ate too much earlier and it didn't feel right but she couldn't stop because her throat hurt so much...Well, gee Lauren, sounds a lot like what I had and didn't gripe about. So she's in misery and feeling rotten and occasionally groaning. I told her to drink up on the orange juice even though it doesn't feel very good going down and sleep a lot. She doesn't really listen to anything I say, so she's up and drinking water. But she did thank me for being her surrogate mommy and helping her with it. So apparently she noticed that I gave her advice but chose to disregard it.

So that's Sunday so far. I'm sitting here, emailing you and listening to a capella music. I've been here a week now. Weird, isn't it? I can't believe it's only been a week. It feels like I've been here forever. I think that's how it almost always goes, though. You plop me down somewhere and within a few days it's like I've always been there. I have pretty horrible grasp of time, anyway, just ask Katie, but it just feels surreal. The two things I've noticed that are radically different from America are: 1) everything closes up shop at 5pm. If you're lucky, 6pm. Nothing is open later than 11pm. 2) everything costs at least two times what you think it should. Open-air theater costs ?16. Shakespeare should be free, people! So, despite those two annoyances, things are good here. I think you'll like wandering around Oxford, everything is beautiful.

Thank you so much for giving me this experience and being wonderful people (just in general). I love you both and hope to talk to you soon.

Love,

Corey