<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2336356679434901763</id><updated>2011-07-30T13:37:29.546-04:00</updated><title type='text'>an american girl in london</title><subtitle type='html'>(and syracuse)</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cegelston.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cegelston.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Courtney</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>69</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2336356679434901763.post-3710497118936715079</id><published>2010-02-26T17:40:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-26T17:43:32.997-05:00</updated><title type='text'>don't eat orange snow</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;This email proves Syracuse has too much snow.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Tahoma, Arial, Helvetica; font-size: 11px; "&gt;&lt;div id="divExpSubHdr" style="position: relative; height: 16px; width: 665px; "&gt;&lt;div id="divSubSent" style="position: absolute; right: 0px; width: 250px; text-align: right; "&gt;&lt;span id="spnSent" style="font-size: 10px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 5px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 5px; text-align: right; color: rgb(102, 102, 102); "&gt;Friday, February 26, 2010 1:46 PM&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div id="divSelDisplay" style="position: relative; z-index: 0; "&gt;&lt;div id="divRws"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div id="divInfobar" class="infobar" style="margin-left: 6px; margin-right: 10px; "&gt;&lt;div id="divInfobarColor" class="lowSeverity" style="height: 4px; width: auto; min-width: 20em; background-image: url(https://r3.res.outlook.com/owa/14.0.650.21/themes/base/gradientv.png); background-repeat: repeat-x; background-attachment: initial; -webkit-background-clip: initial; -webkit-background-origin: initial; background-color: initial; border-top-width: 1px; border-top-style: solid; border-top-color: rgb(217, 218, 221); border-left-width: 1px; border-left-style: solid; border-left-color: rgb(217, 218, 221); border-right-width: 1px; border-right-style: solid; border-right-color: rgb(217, 218, 221); color: rgb(248, 248, 248); background-position: 0px -1594px; "&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div id="divIB" style="min-width: 20em; text-decoration: none; border-left-width: 1px; border-left-style: solid; border-left-color: rgb(217, 218, 221); border-right-width: 1px; border-right-style: solid; border-right-color: rgb(217, 218, 221); border-bottom-width: 1px; border-bottom-style: solid; border-bottom-color: rgb(217, 218, 221); min-height: 17px; max-height: 68px; line-height: 13px; overflow-y: auto; overflow-x: hidden; color: rgb(102, 102, 102); background-color: rgb(254, 254, 254); "&gt;&lt;div id="divInfobarMessage" itype="1" class="infobarMessageItem" isvisible="1" style="word-wrap: break-word; display: list-item; list-style-type: none; padding-left: 5px; background-image: url(https://r3.res.outlook.com/owa/14.0.650.21/themes/base/dash.gif); margin-left: 2px; background-repeat: no-repeat; padding-top: 2px; padding-bottom: 4px; background-position: 0% 9px; "&gt;This message was sent with High importance.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div id="divBdy" class="bdyItmPrt" _fallwcm="1" style="font-size: medium; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); width: auto; overflow-x: hidden; overflow-y: hidden; position: relative; top: 0px; padding-top: 15px; padding-right: 15px; padding-bottom: 15px; padding-left: 15px; "&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span lang="en-US"&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Calibri,sans-serif;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; "&gt;Due to unbelievably popular demand and unbelievably awful weather, we have run out of our stock of snow shovels.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Calibri,sans-serif;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; "&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Calibri,sans-serif;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; "&gt;Kerry Heckman Fiesinger&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman,serif;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12pt; "&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman,serif;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12pt; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; "&gt;Program Coordinator&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman,serif;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12pt; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; "&gt;Syracuse University&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman,serif;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12pt; "&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman,serif;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12pt; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; "&gt;Office of Off-Campus and Commuter Services&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman,serif;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12pt; "&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:Arial, sans-serif;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:Arial, sans-serif;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div id="divRcBox"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2336356679434901763-3710497118936715079?l=cegelston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/3710497118936715079'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/3710497118936715079'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cegelston.blogspot.com/2010/02/dont-eat-orange-snow.html' title='don&apos;t eat orange snow'/><author><name>Courtney</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2336356679434901763.post-368259920586911587</id><published>2010-02-26T17:39:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-26T17:40:28.565-05:00</updated><title type='text'>syracuse's bright side</title><content type='html'>&lt;!--StartFragment--&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;By this time of winter, I think we’re all wondering why we didn’t go to school down south. The weekend forecast is cloudy and cold, a foot of snow is supposed to hit us by Friday and, even though more than 36,000 people got them, I don’t have tickets to the Villanova game. But life at SU isn’t all that bad. Syracuse has some hidden secrets that just might brighten up your winter blues.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt; &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Free Lunch&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:normal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Anyone who’s ever told you, “there’s no such thing as a free lunch,” lied. Every Thursday from noon until 1 p.m. in the Noble Room in Hendricks Chapel, Dr. T.E. Koshy and his friendly volunteers serve up homemade salad, rice and meat sauce and an assortment of cakes to anyone interested (a vegetarian alternative is also available). Since 1966, Koshy, a Chaplain for the Evangelical Christian Ministries, has been working to bring together students of all backgrounds and faiths from across campus through a hot meal. I schedule my classes so I’m free for this event. The food may be the same every week, but the outpouring of love and goodwill keeps me coming back for more. Koshy funds these luncheons, which serve around 150 people a week, by himself. “I could have gotten a job and made money,” Koshy said, “but I felt it was a wonderful thing to do to help build relationships for people.” If the free food isn’t enough to make you smile, Koshy’s energetic warmth is sure to do the trick.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt; &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Beer Delivery&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Running out of beer is a guaranteed way to wreck a party (unless you have handles of hard liquor lying around). Luckily for students, Sabastino’s on Westcott can deliver you from a party emergency. Just give them a call and within 30 minutes they’ll bring your favorite brews directly to your door. While the beer is overpriced, it’s a convenient option for an impromptu party or a rager about to fizz out. A 30 of Keystone is $21.56 and if you want to get fancy, Bud Light’s $27.14 (tax included). They deliver until right around 2 a.m., check your ID when they arrive and charge a dollar delivery charge. So next time you start drawing straws to see who gets stuck with the beer run, just chip in and have it delivered. Oh yeah, they can bring you pizza, too. &lt;i&gt;315-478-1000&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Downtown Dining on a Dime&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;For the past five years, downtown Syracuse has offered a week of affordable dinners at some of their best establishments. This year, Syracuse extended Dining Week for an extra seven days, giving you until Saturday to take advantage of this deal. 19 local restaurants, including student favorites like Dinosaur Bar-B-Que, Pastabilities and Empire Brewery, offer three course meals for $25 or less. Stop sustaining off soup and the dining hall’s wrap bar and get something you’ll actually savor. If you don’t have a car, you can catch the bus at the Connective Corridor to get there. Places like L’Adour, Lemon Grass and Pascale will give you the best deal, because typically their entrées alone average around $25. Peter Themistocles, a junior marketing and retail student, said he’s already been three times. Sometimes you just have to take advantage of a good thing. Go to &lt;i&gt;http://downtownsyracuse.com/static/C2/&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:normal"&gt; to see the full list of participating restaurants.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;!--EndFragment--&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2336356679434901763-368259920586911587?l=cegelston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/368259920586911587'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/368259920586911587'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cegelston.blogspot.com/2010/02/syracuses-bright-side.html' title='syracuse&apos;s bright side'/><author><name>Courtney</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2336356679434901763.post-4483656819347522215</id><published>2010-02-24T21:31:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-24T21:42:44.376-05:00</updated><title type='text'>spotlight on su showcase</title><content type='html'>&lt;!--StartFragment--&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;The newly released details of SU Showcase, formerly known as MayFest, are a reminder of the changes being made this year. For many of us, getting that October email announcing regularly scheduled classes for SU Showcase made for a dark day. As a student body, we’ve organized meetings, wrote articles in protest and used our social networking skills to show our displeasure (the Facebook group Operation Rescue MAYFEST has 5,235 members.) &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;When the University started making changes to put SU Showcase into an inspiring academic event, I complained too. I can’t pretend like I didn’t love MayFest. After enduring nearly five months trudging to class in a frozen tundra of snow and slush, spending a day frolicking in the sunshine on Euclid was heavenly. In the dead of winter, MayFest was a promise that better days would come. MayFest is one of the reasons I studied abroad in the Fall semester instead of the Spring. But let’s be realistic. MayFest is not a birthright. It’s not even technically a tradition (it was only started five years ago.) Is it really asking too much for the University to expect us to go to class on a Monday?&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;It sounds like Steve Parks, head of SU Showcase, is really putting thought into what this day will entail. Raising the standards on what work will be displayed at SU Showcase should bring pride to the people chosen to participate in the event, and to the University’s community as a whole for having such talented students and faculty. In addition, even though SU will have less high-school students attend, the students who will be on our campus for SU Showcase will be here because they care about their education and deserve to present their work.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Syracuse police officers reported to the Post-Standard that an estimated 3,500 students took place in the &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9KUD4SxSgKw"&gt;booze-fest&lt;/a&gt; last spring, which is about the same number of local talented, high-school students that came to our campus that day. Busses brought thousands of young intellectuals to see our academic work and what did we show them? How to throw the winning beer pong ball, the art of hooking up with drunk chicks and the formula to be a sloppy mess (add one parts vodka, four Keystones, a pair of jorts and shake). There’s no reason we can’t all move our &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch#v=oIhPBrc9fpc&amp;amp;feature=related"&gt;block party&lt;/a&gt; to a Saturday, or perhaps skip class on a day that’s not supposed to celebrate our academic work.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Lauren Thomas, a sophomore magazine major, thoroughly enjoyed her freshman experience of MayFest, but can see the benefit of what the day is really supposed to be about, too. “It’s great that high-school students are given the opportunity to showcase their work and see what we do academically,” she said. “I think it can be a step forward for them in the college process.”&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;The University’s steps toward refocusing this event and the recently announced details of what SU Showcase will entail can potentially create an enriching experience for SU’s visitors, students and faculty. I’m happy to go to a school that’s known for having fun, but I’m more proud of the prestigious academic reputation of SU. I worked hard to get into this school, and I work hard while I’m here. I agree students should have a day off to unwind, but it doesn’t really make sense to schedule it on a day that’s meant to present our academic achievements. I’m not denying the beauty of day drinking in the spring, and if you really feel the need to fight the power of Nancy Cantor and skip class for your own personal MayFest, no one’s stopping you, but maybe we should be more open to what SU Showcase can offer and reschedule showcasing our keg stand abilities.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;See this on the Daily Orange's website &lt;a href="http://media.www.dailyorange.com/media/storage/paper522/news/2010/02/18/Opinion/Su.Showcase.Should.Be.Recognized.For.Academic.Excellence.Not.Block.Parties-3874307.shtml?reffeature=popuarstoriestab"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;!--EndFragment--&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2336356679434901763-4483656819347522215?l=cegelston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/4483656819347522215'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/4483656819347522215'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cegelston.blogspot.com/2010/02/spotlight-on-su-showcase.html' title='spotlight on su showcase'/><author><name>Courtney</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2336356679434901763.post-8586787903555624420</id><published>2010-02-13T09:57:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-13T10:05:08.078-05:00</updated><title type='text'>haiti—tragedy, single—not tragedy</title><content type='html'>&lt;!--StartFragment--&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Crank up Beyonce—it’s the fourteenth again.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Yesterday in Hendricks Chapel, I overheard two girls discussing weekend plans. The one revealed this would be her first single Valentine’s Day in three years. She planned to hibernate with excessive amounts of chocolate to cope. Before you start debating if the cashier at CVS is going to know you’re buying the Russell Stover candies for yourself, stop overreacting about being alone this holiday.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;With all the hand-holding, gift-buying outrageous public displays of affection, it may feel like you’re the only single lady (or man) on Valentine’s Day; but trust me, you’re not. Whether you savor your single status or are less than tickled pink, there’s no reason to feel left out this holiday. According to the US Census Bureau, there are 95.7 million single Americans. They might not be at the evening showing of &lt;i&gt;Valentine’s Day&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:normal"&gt; in Carousel Mall this weekend, but they’re out there.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops:346.5pt"&gt;Back in the days of Ashlee Simpson and the Ying Yang Twins, my first real boyfriend asked me out at the school’s Valentine’s Day dance. He had roses and I wore pink. It was precious, or nauseating, label as you see fit. For the next few years, I had perfect Valentine’s Days, complete with candlelit dinners, cards, flowers, candy… the works. I pitied those poor single people left alone with their Necco hearts.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops:346.5pt"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops:346.5pt 5.25in"&gt;And then, I was one of them. Freshmen year, I thought my first real single Valentine’s Day was going to be the worst I’ve ever had. That chilly, Thursday night, I danced around in the dorm before embarking on a sledding expedition on the hill behind Sadler Hall (without a coat or a real sled). I woke up the next morning with a cold, no phone, and a killer headache. It was the best Valentine’s Day I’ve ever had. I loved every minute of that time with my friends and it’s one of my favorite memories of college. Hangovers will pass, puke can be cleaned, and you know you wanted a cell phone upgrade anyway. I’ve had my Valentine’s Days in and out of relationships, and in my opinion, single makes a much better story.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;As long as you’re upbeat about your weekend, I’m sure you can find ways to enjoy V-Day even with your single Facebook status. An &lt;a href="http://www.cosmopolitan.com/advice/entertaining-ideas/single-girl-valentine-day"&gt;article&lt;/a&gt; in &lt;i&gt;Cosmopolitan&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:normal"&gt; called, “Fun Ways to Celebrate Yourself on Valentine’s Day” suggested going out to a fancy restaurant for dessert… by yourself. Before you start making reservations in Armory Square, let’s think this through. Not only would you be stuffing your face alone surrounded by dozens of happy couples, you’ll also probably have to wait two hours to get your table, and at the end of the whole embarrassing ordeal, you’re going to be the one to pick up the tab! I don’t think I can imagine a worse way to spend my Saturday night.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Instead of taking part in ridiculous activities like this or wallowing in misery alone in your dorm room, go to the bar. Not only are you likely to have fun with your friends, but also you’ll know that every person you meet is available, too. Being single on Valentine’s Day might just be the best way to find yourself a bad romance, if only for the night.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Disagree? &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(20, 11, 89); font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 14px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 16px; "&gt; &lt;a href="http://bit.ly/c0EKXz" class="tweet-url web" rel="nofollow" target="_blank" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; text-decoration: none; color: rgb(44, 150, 12); "&gt;http://bit.ly/c0EKXz&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2336356679434901763-8586787903555624420?l=cegelston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/8586787903555624420'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/8586787903555624420'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cegelston.blogspot.com/2010/02/haititragedy-singlenot-tragedy.html' title='haiti—tragedy, single—not tragedy'/><author><name>Courtney</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2336356679434901763.post-1078678932169584114</id><published>2010-02-07T13:15:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-07T13:21:46.150-05:00</updated><title type='text'>people's place pride</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;This article was part of a Daily Orange feature story pitting coffee shop chains against the little guys. As the co-manager of People's Place—a non-profit, student run campus coffee shop— I took the little guy's side.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;!--StartFragment--&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Kyle Corea, one of the managers of Funk n’ Waffles, said he wishes he could print a list of everything wrong with chain coffee shops, and how small shops like his are better. Too bad I only have 550 words.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Instead of the corporate-mandated repetition of specially selected  tracks, small coffee shops have a sound all their own. Whether it’s an old record, a surprising playlist, or a live band at Funk n’ Waffles DJ Wednesdays, you never know what tune your about to hear. The space to sit and relax at Funk n’ Waffles, Freedom of Espresso, or in the room adjacent to People’s Place is so much more welcoming than the revolving door of customers flowing in and out of chain shops.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;More importantly, the goods these shops offer don’t come from a giant warehouse or industrial sized freezer. People’s Place rotates through more than two-dozen different Fair Trade, organic flavors, soaked in different brews to offer calorie-free, syrup-free, good-for-the-world flavored coffee, and Funk n’ Waffles makes every specialty drink by hand. Food is made fresh with local, organic products, and benefits other small business like Byrne Dairy and Liberty Deli.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Elysa Smigielski, a senior studio arts student, said she strays from chains because she believes in helping local businesses, and in these small shops’ mission to do the same. “I bought this mug at Freedom of Espresso for $20,” she said. “I could have gotten one at Target for $5, but I want to help these little places because they have quality products and a great atmosphere.”&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Still, the small shops often offer better prices. People’s Place sells the same Tazo teas as Starbucks. The quality is exactly the same, but the price for a large tea at People’s is $0.50, compared to $2.35 at Starbucks. A large mocha is $1 versus $4.15. If you buy one cup of coffee per class day for a semester, that’s $252—which could like, totally pay for a new pair of Uggs &lt;i&gt;and&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:normal"&gt; leggings!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;But there’s more separating People’s Place, Funk n’ Waffles, or Freedom of Espresso apart from corporate chains than price. These tiny shops are an escape from a materialistic campus with a credit card and an attitude problem. They are tiny havens of caring individuals and caffeinated beverages. As a manger of People’s Place, I know that when we hire employees, we aren’t looking for how many barista jobs they’ve had; we’re looking to see if they’re going to ask customers how their day is, and genuinely care to hear the response.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Before I left to study abroad in London last semester, two of my favorite customers handmade me a coffee mug, as a keepsake of my time at People’s Place. Upon my return, peers, faculty, staff, and people I just know by their coffee orders were giving me hugs, showing me baby photos, and telling me which of my blog posts were their favorites. When you become a regular customer at a small coffee shop, you’re not just getting a quick pick-me-up to get you through a bio lecture. You’re becoming a part of an intimate family who isn’t interested in taking your money (that jar on the PP counter benefits a children’s fund).&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I am overwhelmed by the impact these small shops, their staffs, and their customers have made in my time as a Syracuse student. What started as a cheap cup of coffee has made my life a mixture of Comstock and Westcott— a blend between clean-cut prep and something with a little more edge. Moving away from Starbucks or Dunkin’ Donuts changed more than just where I went on a Saturday night or what songs I downloaded to my iPod; It changed how I view myself in this world by exposing me to people who don’t try so hard to fit in. That’s an awfully big result for an 85-cent hazelnut with cream. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Read the other side &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;http://bit.ly/akGjtD &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;  &lt;!--EndFragment--&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2336356679434901763-1078678932169584114?l=cegelston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/1078678932169584114'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/1078678932169584114'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cegelston.blogspot.com/2010/02/peoples-place-pride.html' title='people&apos;s place pride'/><author><name>Courtney</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2336356679434901763.post-8611974190462341163</id><published>2010-02-07T13:13:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-07T13:15:51.614-05:00</updated><title type='text'>the new facebook fad</title><content type='html'>&lt;!--StartFragment--&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I’ll admit it. I waste an unbelievable amount of time considering the quality of my Facebook profile picture. I search for a photo that says I’m exciting enough to friend request, but safe for employers to hire. I click through my own profile pictures probably more than all of my friends combined. Your profile picture isn’t just another tagged photo; it’s a representation of your identity. It’s a tiny window for the casual Facebook stalker to get to know the real you. But this week, it’s all a lie.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;For the past few days, Facebook users worldwide have taken part in doppleganger week: a time to change user profile pictures to that of an actor, athlete, musician, or other quasi-famous person the user may resemble.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;This Facebook phenomenon gets it name from the German word doppelganger, deriving from double (doppel) + goer (ganger). Merriam and Webster define doppelganger as a ghostly counterpart of a living person, double, or alter ego. The idea of a figurative double was the theme of Joseph Conrad’s 1912 novel, &lt;i&gt;The Secret Sharer&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:normal"&gt;. The term is also the title of a 1993 romantic thriller staring Drew Barrymore, which the International Movie Database claims is up 132 percent in popularity this week (Google searching doppelganger anyone?)&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:12.0pt"&gt;Alejandra Nasser, a sophomore art history student, said one of her friends who changed his picture to Joseph Gordon-Levitt (&lt;i&gt;500 Days of Summer&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:normal"&gt;) bared a close enough resemblance to the star that she wondered why her friend had a headshot as his photo. Nasser, however, chose not to participate. “As an ethnic person, there aren’t enough really famous minorities,” she said. “People would just ask me why I didn’t use America Ferrera (&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;Ugly Betty&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:normal"&gt;).”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Looking through my mini-feed of Syracuse friends I’ve found varying levels of success at my peers’ endeavors. Some people find surprisingly accurate look-alikes­­­— the punky hipster who eerily resembles Ellen DeGeneres, or a messy brunette matched with the perfect phase of Britney Spears’ breakdown. Others took a humorous approach by matching a scrawny white girl with a rags-to-riches rapper, or a devastatingly handsome heartthrob with a nerdy freshman. Some of my personal favorites have come from cartoon character look-alikes like Mulan, Pocohantas, and Tommy Pickles.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Still, not everyone is playing the game right. If your so-called doppelganger has topped Maxim’s Hot 100, you’re single, and you &lt;i&gt;aren’t&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:normal"&gt; trying to make a joke, reevaluate your participation before accepting any friend requests.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;If you’re struggling to find a twin, a recent article in the NY Daily News suggested readers check out sites like myhertitage.net or use the Facebook application, Face Double to find an accurate portrayal. You could always just pick your idol and hope people think you’re a comedian and not a raving narcissist.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Blogs and online forums seem to have some controversy over when doppelganger week ends, but it seems like you’ve got a few more days. Make the most of your chance to escape reality and image search some B-list celebrities (let’s be real here, folks) for an identity change.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;As for me, I’ve enjoyed the relief from my profile picture quest that’s come with having Aimee Teegarden (&lt;i&gt;Friday Night Lights&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:normal"&gt;) represent me, but I’m ready for this week to end. Facebook stalking is infinitely harder when profile pictures are fakes. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;See what students said at &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(20, 11, 89); font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 14px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 16px; "&gt;&lt;a href="http://bit.ly/cvrhJR" class="tweet-url web" rel="nofollow" target="_blank" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; text-decoration: none; color: rgb(44, 150, 12); "&gt;http://bit.ly/cvrhJR&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2336356679434901763-8611974190462341163?l=cegelston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/8611974190462341163'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/8611974190462341163'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cegelston.blogspot.com/2010/02/new-facebook-fad.html' title='the new facebook fad'/><author><name>Courtney</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2336356679434901763.post-738367681451305028</id><published>2010-02-07T13:11:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-07T13:13:30.471-05:00</updated><title type='text'>not everyone's rushing to rush</title><content type='html'>&lt;!--StartFragment--&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Tonight in Schine student center kicks off the Pan-Hellenic Society’s 2010 recruitment season, and pretty soon it’s going to seem like every girl on campus is in a house. Current sisters will be wearing their Greek insignia on the daily. This weekend and next will see record numbers of young women flocking to Walnut and Comstock in a sea of polished locks and perfectly accessorized outfits. As a senior, I’ve seen this all before. Tonight starts a strategic game of smiles, bumping into conversation, of “less eyeliner, more mascara,” and faking friendships until they turn real. It’s an annual event, and a reminder of what I’ve chosen not to be a part of.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;It might sound like I’m just another sorority-hater, but freshman year I had never felt so left out. With every girl on campus showing their sorority involvement more than ever, I felt like I was the only one who didn’t rush. I called home to tell my mother I regretted not joining in, and I planned to pledge sophomore year. Sophomore year came and went and I rationalized that rushing wasn’t worth the commitment if I was going to spend a semester abroad and graduate early. Still, with Greek life thrust into the spotlight, I have wondered if I’m missing out by not rushing. Sororities have organized social events and, as my post-graduate unemployment looms in front of me, I’m sure I’d appreciate a network of sisters spread across the nation.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Maria Angelov, a junior policy studies and political science student, said she remembers hearing so many of her classmates talking about rush and feeling like everyone on campus was taking part in Greek life, except for her.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;But not everyone has felt the same way. “Maybe from time to time I think it would be fun to go through and see what it’s like, but I’ve never really thought I wanted to rush,” said junior Brittany McLaren. “I know it’s not for me,” she said.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;As much as I’ve always known I didn’t fit into sorority life, rush week has still always been a hard time to be GDI. But even though for these next two weeks Greek life might seem bigger than ever, sororities and fraternities only comprise of 20 percent of Syracuse University’s student body, according to the student life Web site. For those of you readers who know rush isn’t for you, here’s a reminder that you’re not alone. I’ve loved my time here at SU and I can’t imagine what it’s going to be like to leave the friends I’ve made here. It might have taken me a few years to realize, but I know that even though I’m not in a house, I’ve still made a home.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;See this on The Daily Orange's web site &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(20, 11, 89); font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 14px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 16px; "&gt;&lt;a href="http://bit.ly/bY3rnr" class="tweet-url web" rel="nofollow" target="_blank" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; text-decoration: none; color: rgb(44, 150, 12); "&gt;http://bit.ly/bY3rnr&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2336356679434901763-738367681451305028?l=cegelston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/738367681451305028'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/738367681451305028'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cegelston.blogspot.com/2010/02/not-everyones-rushing-to-rush.html' title='not everyone&apos;s rushing to rush'/><author><name>Courtney</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2336356679434901763.post-1092541428633181055</id><published>2010-02-07T13:09:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-07T13:11:01.320-05:00</updated><title type='text'>tweet, tweet</title><content type='html'>I have finally broken down and used twitter... stay updated with https://twitter.com/cegelston&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2336356679434901763-1092541428633181055?l=cegelston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/1092541428633181055'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/1092541428633181055'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cegelston.blogspot.com/2010/02/tweet-tweet.html' title='tweet, tweet'/><author><name>Courtney</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2336356679434901763.post-5392008556702790117</id><published>2010-02-07T13:05:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-07T13:09:42.733-05:00</updated><title type='text'>no more fish and chips?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;This dining hall review was my first opinion column in The Daily Orange back on campus. &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"&gt;The dining center at Ernie Davis, which opened Saturday, is now the newest and largest dining center on campus; but it’s still just a dining center. It might have more food options than Sadler or Brockway, but the food remains mostly mediocre. If you have not yet experienced it’s twisting maze of hot food, salad bars, and stir-fry lines, just picture any other dining center on campus you’ve ever been to and the idea is the same.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;!--StartFragment--&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; "&gt;Ernie Davis dining center’s location is convenient for students living in Booth, Dellplain, Haven, Watson or on Comstock and the proximity to many classroom buildings is especially appreciated during the cold winter months, but I don’t think it’s worth the trek if you have a closer dining center.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"&gt;Melissa Weston, a sophomore public relations and political science dual major said, “I was expecting the food to be better or different, but it’s all just the same.” Ernie Davis boasts a seating capacity of 500 people, but at rush hour dinnertime it’s still impossible to find a clean empty seat. With Shaw closing earlier and Haven no longer open, the extra space Ernie Davis offers gets eaten up quickly by hungry students. Though well staffed, the center still runs out of trays, forks and food, just like any other dining hall.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"&gt;I visited Ernie after class Tuesday night and found the new hall cramped with people. I kept losing my friend, even though he’s 6’6’’ and normally pretty hard to miss in a crowd. For 10 minutes I wandered around the buffet labyrinth hoping to find something especially appetizing, but was disappointed to find the same slop I ate all freshman year. The new neon green booths looked comfortable, but they were all filled. I wound up teetering on a flimsy orange stool that looked like it might break if I ate one more of my mystery Chinese chicken nuggets. I’m sure the food at Ernie Davis’s salad bar, wrap station, Edy’s ice cream machine or cereal dispensers taste just great, but the Thanksgiving stuffing still closely resembles vomit.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"&gt;Overall, I think Ernie Davis dining center is a good addition to campus, giving students a new option that is, for many, closer than any other dining center. Its ability to house so many students is a major plus at such a large school, and the additional staff seems to be working hard to keep the center clean. I’m sure it will look nice when renovations and decorations are completed. Still, expectations of a gourmet meal in a cozy, relaxed environment are unrealistic. I didn’t hate my dinner at Ernie and there’s a chance I will stop in again, but I’m glad I don’t have a meal plan.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Read student feedback online at &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(20, 11, 89); font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 14px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 16px; "&gt;http://bit.ly/4BBJcK&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2336356679434901763-5392008556702790117?l=cegelston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/5392008556702790117'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/5392008556702790117'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cegelston.blogspot.com/2010/02/no-more-fish-and-chips.html' title='no more fish and chips?'/><author><name>Courtney</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2336356679434901763.post-2874331060321829059</id><published>2009-12-15T10:57:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-15T10:58:22.556-05:00</updated><title type='text'>almost there</title><content type='html'>one test until freedom!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2336356679434901763-2874331060321829059?l=cegelston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/2874331060321829059'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/2874331060321829059'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cegelston.blogspot.com/2009/12/almost-there.html' title='almost there'/><author><name>Courtney</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2336356679434901763.post-789382360066577678</id><published>2009-12-09T18:35:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-09T18:36:29.966-05:00</updated><title type='text'>host program provides better understanding of british life</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'American Typewriter'; "&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;I’ve been told life in London is much different from life in the rest of Britain, and this weekend I got to find out how.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;Host UK is a voluntary organization that matches up international students with willing families to stay for a weekend. SU London pays a portion of the program’s application fee, making it only 20 pounds to participate. Your host family covers all the costs of your visit including every activity you do and all your meals, though you need to pay for transportation to the family’s house. When applying you list your preferences for the area you’d like to stay in, the types of activities you’re interested in doing, and the general family composition you’re looking for. I asked to be in the countryside, preferably on a farm. I wound up in Tiverton, Devon (three hours west of London and near the coast) at a house with a barn and three chickens. It was a perfect match.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;On my first night, my host mom, Julia, and her mother-in-law, Patsy, took me to a Christmas fair in town. All the little shops played Christmas music and passed out homemade baked goods and everyone on the streets said hello to me. It was the kind of small town hospitality I rarely see in London and have missed so much while abroad. After a homemade dinner, Julia and her husband Simon sat around drinking tea and talking about the differences in US and Britain with me. I got to ask the questions I’ve been wondering about Britain, like what they think of the National Health System, their thoughts on America’s involvement in foreign wars, and why they don’t like peanut butter. My interest in their lives was matched with their interest in mine and for each question I asked about Britain they asked one about America. I asked how someone becomes a knight and they wanted to know why America is so religious. I had worried we would have nothing to say to one another, but we wound up talking until 2 a.m.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;In the next couple days we went out to a proper English tea, visited a nearby national park, drove through the countryside, and watched their favorite British TV shows. Julia showed me how to make her favorite holiday pudding and Simon taught me the meanings of British slang I still haven’t figured out. With Christmas approaching fast, I’ve been feeling torn between never wanting to leave London and missing being with friends and family during the holidays. Reading the newspaper next to a burning fire and listening to the family’s 16-year-old son talk about his weekend plans, I felt at home and homesick all at once. The couple met while studying at Oxford and have traveled all over the world. Their house was a mess of mixed treasures and their stories were from nearly every continent.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;Early on in London I learned that most Brits eat a “Sunday roast,” so I started making a weekly trek to the nearest pub. But this Sunday I sat at a packed dinner table in the English countryside and shared a home-cooked meal with a British family. When it was time to go I hugged everyone goodbye without feeling at all awkward. The Bonvoisins weren’t my real family, but they had opened up their doors to me like they were&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2336356679434901763-789382360066577678?l=cegelston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/789382360066577678'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/789382360066577678'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cegelston.blogspot.com/2009/12/host-program-provides-better.html' title='host program provides better understanding of british life'/><author><name>Courtney</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2336356679434901763.post-6593857852401463292</id><published>2009-11-30T10:53:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-09T18:39:19.229-05:00</updated><title type='text'>blog neglect</title><content type='html'>Yes, I realize I've gone missing. Where to? Oh, just Ireland, all of London with my sister, Thanksgiving, Christmas carnivals, day trips through England, etc. The weather here has finally gotten to that damp, dreary, typical London fog you always hear of. It's as if one day it just started to rain and I doubt it will stop before I leave. Stepping outside gives you a chill and it's dark very early now; it's getting dark right now and it isn't even 4 p.m.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With only about two weeks left in the semester, class work has started to accumulate and group projects, final papers, final exams, and class presentations are approaching their deadlines. Meanwhile, I'm trying to squeeze out every last bit of this London experience before I head back to the states. So while I've been jam packed with things worth blogging about, trying to fit everything in and still be a decent student has led me to neglect this little site.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know I'll have time to write and reflect when I'm settled in at home this January, but I worry by then I will have forgotten the little details of all my adventures. A quick update for now then: today I got up early and took the train to Windsor to tour Windsor Castle, the Queen's home when she's not at Buckingham. The castle was the best I've ever seen! The rooms were done up beautifully and one friendly tour guide showed us where the Queen's bedroom is, her favorite living room, and even promised to tell her we say hello when he sees her December 14th (she's got a Christmas gift for him.) After the castle we walked through town and stopped for lunch in a nice, warm pub before going to Eton College, a boy's only school where royalty like Prince Henry and Prince William attend. Now I've got two group projects to work on, a paper to write, and an hour or so to spend at the gym before I'll call it a night. I love not having Monday classes, but I still kind of doubt I'll finish everything before this dreary weather gets the best of me and I wind up on the couch.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2336356679434901763-6593857852401463292?l=cegelston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/6593857852401463292'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/6593857852401463292'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cegelston.blogspot.com/2009/11/blog-neglect.html' title='blog neglect'/><author><name>Courtney</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2336356679434901763.post-4938003575093018756</id><published>2009-11-19T17:27:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-19T17:27:49.327-05:00</updated><title type='text'>class trip</title><content type='html'>&lt;!--StartFragment--&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;SU London offers several weekend trips to different countries throughout the semester to places like Paris, Scotland, Berlin, and Istanbul. These trips allow students to see a different country without the hassle of planning the trip. The school organizes transportation, the hotel, several meals, tour guides, sightseeing, and even provides chaperones in case you need any help. When I traveled to Barcelona by myself, I couldn’t even get the cab driver to take me to my hotel without calling my Spanish-fluent friend and handing over my mobile. I had the freedom to do whatever I wanted, but I wasn’t that sure what to do. Traveling with the school’s group narrowed my itinerary options, but it eliminated the worry of winding up in a foreign country not knowing the language and having no clue what to do.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;On Thursday, my class went on a fieldtrip… to Belgium. The beauty of studying abroad in Europe, aside from getting to know a different culture, is that weekend trips to foreign countries are typical. Every Thursday PSC409.1: The European Union studies how the EU and NATO work, but this weekend we saw it first hand. If that sounds slightly boring, consider that Belgium produces around 750 different brews of beer and you can see how this weekend was both educational and entertaining.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Friday morning the group spent an hour or so seeing the main square of Brussels, which was full of old-fashioned buildings and lots of chocolate shops. We saw Manneken Pis, which is to Brussels as the Eiffel Tower is to Paris. Like the name suggests, it’s a statue/fountain of a tiny boy peeing and for debated reasons has been a national icon since the 1600s. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Later we went to the European Union headquarters and had four sessions with various EU employees who explained their jobs to our class and answered our questions. Being able to discuss Europe’s issues in such a small group was an opportunity no student could have organized on their own. After a quick tour of the EU building we went to NATO headquarters and discussed the organization’s involvement in Iraq and Afghanistan with NATO and US Mission employees. It was amazing to be able to talk so candidly about such important issues with the people directly involved in them.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;On Saturday we toured the quaint city of Bruges and indulged in some of Belgium’s finest products: amazing chocolates and mussels and frites (fries) with mayonnaise. We took a guided tour along cobbled streets, viewed a sculpture by Michelangelo, saw how lace is made and went on a boat tour. It was relaxing to be away from the bustle and busyness of London.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Each night we returned to the hotel before dinnertime and had the nights to ourselves. We paired off into small groups to explore. Belgium is the home of waffles, and they were so fresh, light and sweet I don’t ever want to eat an Eggo again. I hung out in a pub, which had more than two dozen different beers on draft. I tried mango, cherry, Christmas-tree, and honey flavored beers which were all delicious. Belgium beer is a lot stronger than the US with many brews, including the one I drank out of a glass boot, around eight percent alcohol. I had one, small glass of a brew that’s 10.5 percent and minutes later got the best French fries I’ve ever eaten (they originated in Belgium) covered in mayo. It sounds gross, but it’s a Belgian tradition.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;The trip allowed me to see great speakers I normally would never have access to, really get to know my class professor, bond with my classmates from other universities, and explore two new cities I never would have thought of visiting. Some of my favorite European cities are ones I didn’t even know were there.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;!--EndFragment--&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2336356679434901763-4938003575093018756?l=cegelston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/4938003575093018756'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/4938003575093018756'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cegelston.blogspot.com/2009/11/class-trip.html' title='class trip'/><author><name>Courtney</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2336356679434901763.post-4979390064864588124</id><published>2009-11-18T19:00:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-18T19:09:40.162-05:00</updated><title type='text'>yes, there is homework abroad</title><content type='html'>Yes, there is homework when you study abroad. There are also term papers and midterms and finals and group projects and presentations. While the work load isn't as much as I normally have at SU, fitting it in between weekend trips to foreign countries and exploring London is a bit more challenging than sacrificing a night out on Marshall to study. So please excuse the lack of posts. I have quite a few due dates coming up, spent last weekend in Belgium, leave for Ireland on Friday, and have my sister coming into town for a week. Though busy, life in London right now is better than ever and I am thoroughly enjoying this half of the semester. More soon...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2336356679434901763-4979390064864588124?l=cegelston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/4979390064864588124'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/4979390064864588124'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cegelston.blogspot.com/2009/11/yes-there-is-homework-abroad.html' title='yes, there is homework abroad'/><author><name>Courtney</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2336356679434901763.post-6852294996945290125</id><published>2009-11-11T16:10:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-11T16:18:31.124-05:00</updated><title type='text'>class field trip!</title><content type='html'>Tomorrow, PSC409 is going on a class field trip... to Brussels! On the itinerary are three meetings with European Union employees, two NATO discussions, and a guided tour through Bruges. But what sounds most intriguing to me is Saturday's lunch time activity: eat mussels and frites with mayonnaise. I'm all for free food, but I'm not sure how much I'll enjoy that.&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Be back Sunday!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2336356679434901763-6852294996945290125?l=cegelston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/6852294996945290125'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/6852294996945290125'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cegelston.blogspot.com/2009/11/class-field-trip.html' title='class field trip!'/><author><name>Courtney</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2336356679434901763.post-1207130928354468386</id><published>2009-11-11T16:05:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-12T04:56:23.792-05:00</updated><title type='text'>poppy day</title><content type='html'>&lt;!--StartFragment--&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;This article was published in The Daily Orange on November 12th.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;The evidence of war is more obvious here in Britain than it is in the United States. War memorials and statues of military leaders dot the city, and the area to the right of SU London’s classroom building was flattened by WWII bombing. The casualties of war have been immense in Britain with 908,000 killed and over 2 million wounded in World War 1; 400,000 military dead in WWII and nearly 90,000 civilians killed by wartime bombing of British cities. But this week the memory of war was stronger than ever. November 11&lt;sup&gt;th&lt;/sup&gt; is Remembrance Day, also known as Poppy Day, and for more than a week leading up to it the country has come together to commemorate those lost in war.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Remembrance Day marks the signing of an armistice to end WWI. At 11 a.m. on 11 November 1918, gunfire ceased on the western front after more than four years of consecutive fighting. Since then, the day is held in honor of Britain’s armed forces and to raise funds for troops and veterans.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;About a week or two ago, I started to notice little red artificial poppies all throughout London. They were on people’s jackets, in the lapels of TV broadcasters, stuck on the grill of taxis, and printed on the pages of newspapers. I asked a man on the tube what they were for and after he gave me a brief explanation, I decided to find out more.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Poppy seeds can lay dormant in the ground for years without growing, because the flower needs rooted up soil to germinate. In Belgium, where WWI battles tore up the earth, fields of poppies bloomed in the spring. The tiny red flowers became a symbol of winter’s end, a sign of hope, a reminder of life. Worn by civilians, the poppy shows support for troops. The first poppy day in 1921 raised 106,000 pounds. This year the Royal British Legion raised 4,392,007 pounds, mainly for the armed forces in Afghanistan and veterans.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Last Wednesday as I hustled to grab coffee before my 9 a.m. class, I stopped to buy a poppy from a veteran selling them on the street. I placed the tiny fake flower on my jacket, proud to show my support for the cause. As we approached Remembrance Day, the overwhelming British support only grew. I haven’t seen a group of people so unified since the months immediately following 9/11. I felt like I was one with the supporters. I had researched their cause and donated money. I blended with the British.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;But when I turned on the TV Wednesday to watch coverage of Poppy Day, I saw the coffins draped in flags, but I didn’t feel the same emotion. The British flag didn’t evoke the immediate sense of feeling and pride that comes instinctively with our stars and stripes. As much as I understand and support the poppy cause, I realized how strong my own nationalism is. After three months, much of London feels like home to me, but I sincerely doubt if any amount of time could ever make me identify with England’s symbols as strongly as I do with the symbols of America. Even with a poppy on, the faces of British soldiers looked like American soldiers to me.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;!--EndFragment--&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2336356679434901763-1207130928354468386?l=cegelston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/1207130928354468386'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/1207130928354468386'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cegelston.blogspot.com/2009/11/poppy-day.html' title='poppy day'/><author><name>Courtney</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2336356679434901763.post-9142933921853037519</id><published>2009-11-11T16:03:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-11T16:05:26.069-05:00</updated><title type='text'>go abroad</title><content type='html'>&lt;!--StartFragment--&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops:328.5pt"&gt;As the deadline for SU study abroad approaches, I urge students who are still unsure if they’re interested to apply. I know it’s expensive (my bank account dipped to $0.35 last week) and I know you love America and your friends and all that SU has to offer, but trust me, it’s worth it. About once a week my friends and I have the, “I’m so glad we came abroad” talk.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Studying abroad opened my eyes to the wonders of the world. I sunbathed under the Eiffel Tower, stuck my toes in the Mediterranean, looked over the Cliffs of Moher, listened to speakers at the European Union, and cohabitated with the British for four months. I’m still reflecting on my time here, but I know being abroad has shown me how much the world has to offer. These past months have been a glimpse into life beyond the USA, a tiny sample of the people, cultures, and history of the world. It’s made me evaluate what I think it means to be American, and it’s pushed me to adjust to life in a foreign country without any family or close friends.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I’ve learned so much more in this city than I ever thought possible. Being a SU student doesn’t force you to live in the city of Syracuse. Your world at SU can be very small if you let it, expanding no more than a few blocks past Marshall and Euclid. Being abroad, I’ve learned to navigate a huge metropolis and how to take advantage of one of the most famous cities in the world. I came without any of my best friends, and it forced me to form quick but strong friendships with the people I’m with. I’ve met people from Britain, France, Australia, and Germany and hang out regularly with the students in our program from Wake Forest and the University of Colorado at Bolder. It’s been like freshman year all over again, a daze of new friends, too many photos, and lots of memories.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Before this semester, I questioned if I could live in a big city, but now I know better than to impose false limitations on myself. More than that, I learned that people, regardless of the country they call home, are still the same. I find similar mannerisms in any country I visit, and that friendliness is universal. I love SU and I’m excited to get back, but I am so grateful that I decided to go abroad and hope that more students at SU realize the benefits the program has to offer. I’ve learned a lot of lessons in my courses at SU, studying current affairs, evaluating political and religious philosophy, memorizing AP style; but what has triumphed coursework is meeting the challenges of moving away from home, learning to accept and understand others, discovering what I can handle on my own, and growing up.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;!--EndFragment--&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2336356679434901763-9142933921853037519?l=cegelston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/9142933921853037519'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/9142933921853037519'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cegelston.blogspot.com/2009/11/go-abroad.html' title='go abroad'/><author><name>Courtney</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2336356679434901763.post-7728333983931473096</id><published>2009-11-11T05:39:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-11T05:48:17.725-05:00</updated><title type='text'>upcoming trips update</title><content type='html'>The semester is winding down and my traveling is speeding up. Thursday-Sunday I am going to Brussels to see the European Union through the school's trip (more details on that soon) and I'm very excited! Then Sunday-Tuesday, a cousin of mine is coming to London for work, so I hope to meet up with him at some point. The following Friday my sister and I are flying to Ireland to see Dublin, Galway, and Shannon until Monday night. She's staying with me for the rest of that week, a little piece of home for Thanksgiving. On Saturday the 28th, she flies back to the states and I think I'm going on a day trip to Oxford and possibly also to Cadbury World (like Hershey's Park, yum!) The next weekend (December 4th-6th) I have made arrangements to participate in HostUK, a program that places students with a host family, in the Devon countryside. And that brings me to December 11th... my last weekend in London. My last Friday abroad. My last few days before it's back to the USA.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Even though I still have more than a month left, when I think about my time here in terms of weekends, I realize just how little there is. It's starting to feel bittersweet.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2336356679434901763-7728333983931473096?l=cegelston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/7728333983931473096'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/7728333983931473096'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cegelston.blogspot.com/2009/11/upcoming-trips-update.html' title='upcoming trips update'/><author><name>Courtney</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2336356679434901763.post-6879391823881419408</id><published>2009-11-11T05:24:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-19T17:28:24.778-05:00</updated><title type='text'>guy fawkes</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Remember, remember the fifth of November&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;November 5th is Guy Fawkes day, a British holiday based on the ritual execution and dismemberment of a religious extremest caught trying to blow up the Houses of Parliament in 1605. The story says Fawkes and a dozen other conspirators were unhappy with how the monarchy and government were treating Catholics. In an attempt to kill those who were making life difficult for Catholics, the group placed gunpowder in the House of Parliament's basement. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;There's some disagreement about if Fawkes and friends were really going to go through with their plot, or if it would have worked, but regardless, Fawkes was caught alone in the basement with the gunpowder, and executed.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Somehow, and this is the bit I don't really understand, this odd slice of British history has turned into an annual event called Guy Fawkes Night or Bonfire Night. It is the perfect holiday for my younger brother- fireworks are sold throughout the city and for the whole weekend everyone goes nuts lighting them off. I heard explosions during class, on my way to my flat, while I was eating dinner, and randomly for three nights. There are larger firework displays arranged in a few areas across the city. For more info on the holiday, the SU London Director suggested checking out this website: http://www.bonfirenight.net/gunpowder.php.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2336356679434901763-6879391823881419408?l=cegelston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/6879391823881419408'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/6879391823881419408'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cegelston.blogspot.com/2009/11/guy-fawkes.html' title='guy fawkes'/><author><name>Courtney</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2336356679434901763.post-5102201580997520126</id><published>2009-11-08T20:31:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-11T05:23:52.824-05:00</updated><title type='text'>covent garden</title><content type='html'>I must have passed by the general area of Covent Garden hundreds of times since my arrival in London. I've seen plays on the outskirts of it, gone to pubs and small clubs to the sides of it, but before Sunday I have never actually gone in it. In the words of Julia Roberts (Pretty Woman)... "big mistake. Huge! HUGE!"&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Covent Garden is a cozy little cobblestone square filled with delicious eateries, an open market, and tons of great shops. The area is a nice mix of posh and affordability, with bargain stores like H&amp;amp;M mixed with higher-end shops like Next and Guess. There are singers, musicians, and comedians in every little area of the square, each surrounded by a tiny crowd. My friends and I went for a late lunch and sat outside, enjoying all the different street performers. Later we did some shopping, wandered around the crafts, and sipped tea through the crisp, cool day.  Families and little children walked by, along with teenager shoppers and couples. A giant green reindeer lit up the square's front, and Christmas cheer filled the afternoon (I even did some holiday shopping!)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2336356679434901763-5102201580997520126?l=cegelston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/5102201580997520126'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/5102201580997520126'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cegelston.blogspot.com/2009/11/covent-garden.html' title='covent garden'/><author><name>Courtney</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2336356679434901763.post-6387977258037019595</id><published>2009-11-08T06:26:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-09T06:07:30.455-05:00</updated><title type='text'>christmas comes early</title><content type='html'>It's the first week of November, and it's beginning to look a lot like Christmas... already! I don't know if it's because the Brits don't celebrate Thanksgiving, but the whole city is decked out for the holiday season. On Tuesday, the lights of Oxford street were lit up. Now whenever I go down that street I'm stunned by A Christmas Carol theme display of hundreds of dazzling blue lights. Giant stars, presents, and Scrooge figurines fill the sky. If I'm trying to get home after midnight when the tube has closed I take a red double-decker bus that passes right through Oxford. Zooming past all the twinkling lights looks magical.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yesterday some friends and I got up at 7am to rush off to the Harrods Christmas Parade. We got out of the tube station, up to street level, and were immediately greeted by gusts of snow! There wasn't a cloud in the sky, and the weather was cool but not cold. We smiled like five-year-olds, yelling, "Our first London snow!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It took about five minutes for us to realize that it was fake, just a part of Harrods' Christmas atmosphere. The store itself was lit up in hundreds of green lights. The parade's theme was Wizard of Oz meets Christmas and Dorothy and the crew danced down the street. Children went nuts when a horse-drawn sleigh pulling Santa came down the street, followed by a herd of live reindeer! The window displays were amazing, mixing the playfulness of the movie with the materialism of the store. Grand story books were open in each window telling a Harrods version of the Wizard of Oz tale (like how Dorothy slipped on her designer dress). Inside the store was a Christmas wonderland. An entire section was devoted entirely to Christmas decorations, ornaments, cards and wrapping paper. Bows and trees and wreaths and lights were everywhere throughout the store. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It might be a little earlier than I'm used to, but standing around in "snow" sipping hot tea from a Christmas Starbucks cup and seeing little children's eyes light up as they watched Santa was the best way to start my day. Happy Holidays!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2336356679434901763-6387977258037019595?l=cegelston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/6387977258037019595'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/6387977258037019595'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cegelston.blogspot.com/2009/11/christmas-comes-early.html' title='christmas comes early'/><author><name>Courtney</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2336356679434901763.post-8433787013342626539</id><published>2009-11-04T20:15:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-04T20:37:45.074-05:00</updated><title type='text'>hallowhat</title><content type='html'>The roommates and I returned to London (from Spain) Friday night. Saturday was Halloween- the college student's dream holiday. Knowing we'd have to take the tube, we all dressed in modest costumes. I expected to find a crazy, NYC-style affair.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;As we jumped on the tube, I quickly realized no one else had costumes on. A group of just-passed-middle-aged women were sitting in front of me, noticeably and rightfully staring.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Oh, now don't you feel silly?" one woman said. "Yes, actually I feel very silly. Uh, you err don't celebrate halloween then, do you?" I replied. "Well, no not quite," she said. "Right, uh, it's pretty big in the states. Huge actually," I muttered. "Is that so?... Interesting. Well, was your party fun?" she asked. "Uh, I uh, actually haven't gone to a party yet. I just left my flat." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This whole conversation was getting to be too much. I decided I needed to move to a less-crowded part of the train and escape this embarrassment. Problem was, I was still wearing a costume and all my hopes of entering a costume-clad bar came crashing down when I realized the club was equally Halloween-deprived. I stuck it out anyways, rocking my hippie peace sign all night. I guess my last college Halloween was uneventful. Good thing the first two were enough on their own...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2336356679434901763-8433787013342626539?l=cegelston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/8433787013342626539'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/8433787013342626539'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cegelston.blogspot.com/2009/11/hallowhat.html' title='hallowhat'/><author><name>Courtney</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2336356679434901763.post-7709781477033731885</id><published>2009-11-04T17:41:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-09T06:24:10.530-05:00</updated><title type='text'>tuesday night football</title><content type='html'>&lt;!--StartFragment--&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;This article was published in The Daily Orange on November 5th.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Tuesday night I took the next step in becoming a true Londoner. I’m not a sports fanatic, and if it weren’t for my freshman roommate I probably still wouldn’t be able to follow a football or basketball game. But a London soccer game has more to offer than pure athletic talent, like hot guys and crazy fans. With tickets as cheap as 15 pounds and games played through May, I just might become a soc- I mean, ‘football’ fan.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;The match was between Queen’s Park Rangers (QPR) and Crystal Palace (CP), which are both Championship League teams, one tier below the highest-level Premier League teams and comparable to a less-popular NFL team. Outside the stadium, vendors sold fish and chips. Security searched through bags as fans filed past the fences topped with barbwire. The stadium entryways had sharp spurs on the edges, presumably to prevent people from jumping over.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;As I took my seat seven rows up from the field and halfway between midfield and the visitors section, I quickly realized there were two events to watch: the game and the fans. Syracuse v. Pitt would pale in comparison to the rising anger I could see among these Brits. For more than 90 minutes there was a not one second of silence. The weather had dipped to 40 degrees, I could see my breath, I couldn’t feel my toes and fans were taking off their shirts to wave them overhead. The crowd control looked more like a pack of bouncers than ushers. Cheers came like debates with CP hurling insults and QPR sending ones back.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;“You’re support is f***ing sh**!” “You’re team is f***ing sh**!” “You’re team is full of rejects!” “They aren’t &lt;i&gt;your&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:normal"&gt; rejects!”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;With the insults came songs that all the fans, including the grandmother-grandson duo to my right, knew. QPR sang, “Up your arse, up your arse, we’ll stick the blue flag up your arse!” Some of the more rowdy CP fans orchestrated choruses of “We’re the boys in blue, who the f***ing hell are you, and we're out to show the world how to score!” Despite only filling a quarter of the stadium, CP fans dominated spectator response. I don’t think they sat down all game. If Otto’s Army ever wants some new material, they should start watching soccer.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;The 20-something QPR fan beyond me was getting frustrated. “They’re rubbish,” he said. “Crystal Palace is usually a wallup team.” Minutes later, QPR scored the first goal and the noise was deafening. The 45-minute half flew by and before I knew it I was sitting dumbfounded during halftime wondering what I’d just witnessed.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;CPR scored early on in the second half and the game tensely waged on. In the last few minutes the score was still 1-1 and if I thought fans were nuts before, it was nothing compared to now. People were screaming and pointing, jumping out of their seats as if their whole lives depended on the game. The announcer reported three minutes of time would be added to the game (to make up for pauses in play when the clock hadn’t stopped) but the minutes weren’t added to the scoreboard. As the ball volleyed back and forth between goals, I wondered how much time was left.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;No goals later, time was up and I couldn’t believe that after all that tension, everyone just came to terms with a tie. Regardless of how many London activities I partake in, there will always be things I don’t understand about the British.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;!--EndFragment--&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2336356679434901763-7709781477033731885?l=cegelston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/7709781477033731885'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/7709781477033731885'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cegelston.blogspot.com/2009/11/tuesday-night-football.html' title='tuesday night football'/><author><name>Courtney</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2336356679434901763.post-2116575700594807265</id><published>2009-11-04T12:52:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-04T13:28:14.690-05:00</updated><title type='text'>traveling fool</title><content type='html'>Monday morning my parents met me at the flat and the three of us loaded our bags into a cab and headed off to Heathrow. They dropped me off at my terminal and I hugged them goodbye, consented to one last picture, and embarked on my transnational journey solo to meet up with my roommates in Spain.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Checking in and going through customs was quick and hassle-free. I spent the majority of the next hour perusing bookshops and newsstands for the perfect smutty reading: the latest issue of Cosmo and a steamy beach read called Tan Lines. For all my flights this break I flew KLM airlines, which was great. There was plenty of elbow space, friendly employees, no turbulence, and refreshments and snacks on even short, 45 minute flights.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;As I sat reading on the plane, waiting to take off, the stewardess began giving safety instructions. I looked up for a second and then thought, "Oh I don't need to listen to this... I'm not flying over water."  Er, hang about... England is an island you idiot, of course you're flying over water- big, BIG water. Oh god, I am not smart enough to be traveling alone! Let's call that incident brain fart number 1 (BF1 for short.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sad to admit, BF2 came not long after. The plane landed at my layover in Amsterdam and as I reached up to grab my bag from the overhead compartment, panic set in. Where the hell is Amsterdam? What country am I in? What language do they speak? I got my answers from the terminal gift shop. Amsterdam is in Holland, home of the Dutch, and I definitely need to work on my geography skills before graduation.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;OK, I'm traveling alone and I have a two hour layover... time for lunch. I sat down, ate, and read my book. Ten minutes before I needed to get to my gate, I started walking over when BF3 hit me: I had to go through customs. I had ten minutes to go through customs, pass security, and get to my terminal and if I missed my flight I'd be stranded in a country where I don't speak the language or know a single person. A new wave of panic washed over me. After a few minutes of begging, I got to cut the line and ran to the gate, only to find they were having delays and I had an extra 20 minutes. Finally though, I was on my way to Spain.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I arrived in Spain around 7 p.m. and followed the directions I'd been given to meet up with my friends. I took the Aerobus to the center of the city without a problem and checked with some apparently British tourists before getting off at my stop. I texted my roommate to ask what next, and she told me the address to take a taxi to. I moved to the row of taxi's and tried my best to read the street names. When he looked at me like someone who only speaks Spanish looks at someone who only speaks English and some French, I showed him the address on my phone. He got up and started waving his arms, pointing down the street.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Is it just up there?" I pathetically asked in English. "Mutter mutter wave wave point point yell," he responded. "Uhh, okay I guess it must be close by, but I still want to take a taxi," I tried. Fail. He got in his cab and left me. BF4. I moved on to the next cab, only to get the same response. BF5. Time to call for help. I dialed my roommate but my phone started speaking in Spanish, saying I have no clue what. BF6. Frantically I texted her for help and luckily she called me with her Spanish speaking friend, who was kind enough to tell the cab driver where to take me and explain that, even though the destination wasn't far and may be a "waste of his time," I really wanted a cab. He agreed to let me in, and I muttered my best "Gracia!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;About three minutes later I was exactly where I needed to be. My friends met me outside, and before I even went to the bathroom I had an ice cold beverage in my hands. Despite all my stupidity, fall break was here and so far, Spain was pretty good.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2336356679434901763-2116575700594807265?l=cegelston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/2116575700594807265'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/2116575700594807265'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cegelston.blogspot.com/2009/11/traveling-fool.html' title='traveling fool'/><author><name>Courtney</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2336356679434901763.post-8317516656016649545</id><published>2009-11-03T09:53:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-03T10:10:21.714-05:00</updated><title type='text'>so, spain it is.</title><content type='html'>Planning for fall break is no easy task. First off, there's the issue of deciding where to go. I think my group's main problem was that every destination sounded so good, we could never choose. Sailing through Greece, traversing Italy, relaxing in Spain... who wouldn't want to do any one of those things?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next issue- trips are a lot of work. There are itineraries to make and flights to schedule. On top of that, you have to figure out where you're staying in each city, and how to get from one city to the next. Which brings me to my next point-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Money. Trips through Europe are expensive! Even if a flight is cheap, you still have to pay for the room, food, alcohol, getting to and from the airport, taxi's, etc. Factor in the exchange rate and the fact that London is already an expensive city and this semester abroad could wind up as expensive as someone's college career.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Initially I wanted to travel through Italy for fall break, but when I realized how much work was involved in scheduling it and how much money it would cost, I started to have doubts. Plus, break is about 10 days long and, after visiting Paris, I realized that I don't enjoy rushing to sight see. Visiting a city or a country shouldn't be like a scavenger hunt to race through all the landmarks and cross them off your to-do list. I like to be able to move slowly and take my time through a new place. I'd love to see Venice, Rome, and Tuscany... but not if I have to run through them to do so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So even though half the program saw around 4-5 different landmark cities on their break (one group saw 11!) I just saw one. In the end, I decided it mattered more to me to spend time with my parents while they were in London than to travel through Europe; so I waited until Monday to leave for break. My roommate's close friend from high school offered to let us crash at his place in Barcelona, and a week of (free!) hanging out in Spain looked good to me. For awhile I wished I was going on wine tours through Italy, but I think I would really rather do a trip like that when money and time aren't so limited. My advice through this whole, semi-stressful ordeal would be that if you are going abroad and have a mid semester break, you plan for it early and you solidify your decision quickly. There are so many options to chose from, but you need to pick one and make arrangements early in the semester (ie: the first month) if you want to find good deals. Ryan Air can offer cheap flights, but not 3 days before you leave. When it comes to break, planning is key.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2336356679434901763-8317516656016649545?l=cegelston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/8317516656016649545'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/8317516656016649545'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cegelston.blogspot.com/2009/11/so-spain-it-is.html' title='so, spain it is.'/><author><name>Courtney</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2336356679434901763.post-9128676974556376931</id><published>2009-11-02T17:10:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-02T17:38:45.799-05:00</updated><title type='text'>recap</title><content type='html'>Sorry for the recent lack of posts. Life here in London has gotten pretty crazy, but I vow to stop being so M.I.A. from this blog. Because it's been so long since I last wrote, here's a recap of what I've been up to...&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Mid-October was filled with frantic attempts to plan a (last-minute) fall break excursion while simultaneously planning what to do when my parents came to visit and finishing reading and studying for midterms before they arrived. On Monday, October 19th, Mom and Dad flew into London to stay for a week! Having them here was amazing, but more on that later. I spent every waking class-free second Monday and Tuesday with Mom and Dad, soaking up my time with them and re-sightseeing London.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Wednesday the world travelers jet-set off to Paris, to spend their 31st Anniversary in the city of love. Meanwhile, I had 4 midterms and a midterm paper on Wednesday and Thursday. On Friday my roommates left for fall break, but I stuck around to spend the remainder of my parent's London visit with them. Saturday morning my parents came back and I spent the weekend with them.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Monday they flew out of Heathrow back to the states, and I packed my bags and left for fall break in Spain! I returned from Spain this weekend, and have since been trying frantically to catch up on fast-approaching deadlines for jobs, scholarships and graduation, and finalize travel plans to Brussels and Ireland, as well as plan out my sister's upcoming visit to London.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So that's what I've been up to. It's hard to complain when everything on your to-do list takes place in Europe, and trust me, I'm not complaining. Crossing "buy ticket to Dublin" off my list beats snowshoeing to a SU midterm any day.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2336356679434901763-9128676974556376931?l=cegelston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/9128676974556376931'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/9128676974556376931'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cegelston.blogspot.com/2009/11/recap.html' title='recap'/><author><name>Courtney</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2336356679434901763.post-5410803048148051220</id><published>2009-10-30T20:55:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-30T20:59:22.639-04:00</updated><title type='text'>american invasion</title><content type='html'>&lt;!--StartFragment--&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;This article was published in the Daily Orange on Thursday, October 29th.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;This week in London, America invaded. My parents visited. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;On my first day in London, the SU London program rattled of safety rules and social norms for more than an hour. They outlined key slang words (quid=bucks, biscuits=cookies, Oyster card=payment for the tube or bus). They detailed how to navigate the city by bus, underground, taxi or foot. They explained Brits love manners, and would never yell, “Help!” but instead say, “Excuse me, I know you’re busy, but would you mind possibly helping me please?”&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;My parents missed this lecture.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;My mother tried to take pictures while crossing the street, but London traffic is insane and pedestrians do not have the right-of-way. My dad approached a man working in the street yelling, “Hey, where’s the subway?” My mom brought a purse that doesn’t zipper shut to a city of pick-pocketers. They both carried their passports, even though stolen passports sell for thousands of dollars. My parents were surprised by the thought of ordering dinner at the bar and signs that say ‘way out’ instead of ‘exit.’ They marveled over the smallness of their hotel room and mentioned daily how well dressed everyone is. I realize that I’m not a London expert, but my parents showed me how much I’ve become accustomed to. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;There was a comfortable unfamiliarity to having my parents here. I loved catching up with them, but it was odd to see them walking where I go to class and figuring out the city. For a week, our distant worlds collided. I woke up early before class to show them my favorite park and rushed off between classes to show them the Tower of London and Tower Bridge. I did things I normally don’t spend money on, like eat out every day, sit front-row at a West End play and ride the London Eye. We saw every major tourist attraction London has to offer, but also where I run, my local pub, and the best place to get cupcakes (Harrods Food Hall). &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;By Sunday Dennis and Judy saw every part of the city, so I asked if they wanted to go to Stonehenge. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;“I want to use your laptop,” dad said. “I want to look up and visit the station Jason Bourne goes to in The Bourne Ultimatum.”&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I sometimes cannot believe the daily happenings of my life. We went to Waterloo, the largest (24.5 acre) station in the UK, according to Network Rail. While there, we stopped at a pub and met a Brit on his way to the NFL game at Wembley Stadium. All day we saw people wearing American football jerseys from dozens of teams. A man in a Patriots jersey held hands with a woman in a Giants jersey, next to a guy wearing the Miami Dolphins. The Brit explained that here, American football is American football. People see games without really understanding who’s playing. He goes because he likes the exciting atmosphere of it.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;“We all wear whatever American football clothes we have,” he said.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;After lunch, my mom took a picture of the ‘look left’ and ‘look right’ road signs that are painted on almost every intersection in London (to remind pedestrians to be careful). In America, this would be like taking a picture of a ‘yield’ sign; it’s just weird. About the same time, my pub friend went to watch the Patriots vs. Buccaneers with a guy in a Steelers jersey. When America comes to London, whether it’s my parents or the NFL, both the Americans and the British have lessons to learn.&lt;i&gt; &lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:normal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;!--EndFragment--&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2336356679434901763-5410803048148051220?l=cegelston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/5410803048148051220'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/5410803048148051220'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cegelston.blogspot.com/2009/10/american-invasion.html' title='american invasion'/><author><name>Courtney</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2336356679434901763.post-9005124227991103499</id><published>2009-10-23T13:38:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-23T13:40:21.665-04:00</updated><title type='text'>a city of pubs</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; "&gt;As the London autumn chill starts to set in, there are few things I am more thankful for than Costa coffee and London pubs. Pubs, short for public houses, are a staple of British culture and there are more than 5,000 in London alone, according to brittania.com. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pubs are the home of comfort food, a friendly, laid-back atmosphere and, of course, a few pints. My favorite menu options are the classic fish and chips (chips means fries), shepherd's pie, homemade soup, steak and ale pie and juicy burgers with vinegar chips. Pub prices are not cheap with the exchange rate. A dinner is around 10 pounds ($17) and a pint is typically around 3 quid (slang for pounds). With all these good ales and bowls of chips I'm losing a lot of pounds, but gaining weight. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are a few things American students, especially broke American students, should know about London pubs. Most every employee in this country, from waiters to taxi drivers, are paid on salary and do not work based on tips. Most pubs include service in your food's price, so keep your pence in your purse. Other important differences to note are that at many pubs it's common to seat yourself and then order at the bar. You tell the bartender where you're sitting, and someone will bring you your food when it's ready. But don't expect anyone to come ask you how your food is or to bring you the check. Since the staff isn't working on tips, they normally leave customers alone and you have to tell someone or go up to the bar yourself when you're ready to pay. Also, many places in London label restrooms as 'loo' and exits as 'way out,' a self-explanatory but notable difference.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Less than a minute's walk away from my flat is a quiet pub called The Larrick, where I've started to take part in the British tradition of eating Sunday roast. At every pub I've been to, a special roast beef or chicken is served every Sunday, normally with mashed potatoes, loads of gravy, Yorkshire pudding and vegetables. The Larrick has a fine selection of beer and is never crowded. For a night on the town I would rather be surrounded by young people dancing to Chipmunk (UK's Kanye West, only not obnoxious and new to the music scene), but on a relaxed, Sunday night nothing beats pub food in my backyard. I'm sure Londoners could argue for hours over which pubs are the best, and I doubt if my tiny, neighborhood pub would make the cut, but The Larrick's over-sized lounge chairs and dim candlelight is inviting. We always have our choice of table, and normally sit in the back where it's quiet and NFL games are playing on TV. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Outside The Larrick's windows, red double-decker busses, classic London telephone booths and Brits with accents are reminders that I'm far from home. Coming to a foreign country, it takes time to find a new source of familiarity and comfort. Sitting in a warm pub, whether it's across the street or across the city, it only takes a pint.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2336356679434901763-9005124227991103499?l=cegelston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/9005124227991103499'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/9005124227991103499'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cegelston.blogspot.com/2009/10/city-of-pubs.html' title='a city of pubs'/><author><name>Courtney</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2336356679434901763.post-8475803891894547335</id><published>2009-10-21T05:25:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-21T05:26:58.782-04:00</updated><title type='text'>busy bee</title><content type='html'>A brief apology for the lack of posts: I am super busy with schoolwork, planning for semester break, and enjoying my parents' visit to London. Five midterms in two days is keeping me on my toes! I'll blog again soon.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2336356679434901763-8475803891894547335?l=cegelston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/8475803891894547335'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/8475803891894547335'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cegelston.blogspot.com/2009/10/busy-bee.html' title='busy bee'/><author><name>Courtney</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2336356679434901763.post-1570404455031122278</id><published>2009-10-14T18:30:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-14T18:43:10.587-04:00</updated><title type='text'>last minute deals</title><content type='html'>Fall break starts next Friday- a week, a day, and a half hour away. We still haven't booked anything. I think the problem is that, with all of Europe as fair game, we can't decide where to go. Even more confusing is trying to figure out what the best way to get around is. A Mediterranean cruise around Greece? Hosteling our way through Italy? Sunbathing off the coast of Spain? Tomorrow's our (self-proclaimed) deadline, although today was a deadline too. Looks like last minute deals are our only option now...&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm sure whatever we do will be great.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2336356679434901763-1570404455031122278?l=cegelston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/1570404455031122278'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/1570404455031122278'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cegelston.blogspot.com/2009/10/last-minute-deals.html' title='last minute deals'/><author><name>Courtney</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2336356679434901763.post-4242273949068538942</id><published>2009-10-14T18:18:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-14T18:29:06.131-04:00</updated><title type='text'>caffeine dilemma</title><content type='html'>Not to be a coffee snob, but this girl needs caffeine and lately Britain just isn't cutting it. First off, coffee with cream isn't an option at every coffee chain. Why? I have no clue. Caffe Americano is not filter coffee, but watered down espresso. Kind of gross. The height of my coffee chain disappointment is that hazelnut coffee, my ultimate favorite morning beverage, does not exist. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;These things are all sad facts I learned early on in Britain, but yesterday I was given a whole new disappointment. Fall has started to settle in here. Leaves are changing, the wind's blowing and the weather is colder. Like the US, there's a Starbucks on nearly every corner here. Fall at Starbucks means one thing- Pumpkin Spice Latte. I rushed off before class, so excited to get one, only to find Starbucks doesn't have them. I ran down to the next coffee shop, Costa, but they didn't have it either. 5 Coffee chains and not a single one has pumpkin spice. I settled for some sub-par coffee and got ready to go to class. Just as I was walking out the door, Taylor Swift came on the coffee shop radio. As happy as I was, you've got to wonder... how is it that they have country music but not flavored coffee?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2336356679434901763-4242273949068538942?l=cegelston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/4242273949068538942'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/4242273949068538942'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cegelston.blogspot.com/2009/10/caffeine-dilemma.html' title='caffeine dilemma'/><author><name>Courtney</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2336356679434901763.post-2091316325501191993</id><published>2009-10-14T18:17:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-15T05:56:36.905-04:00</updated><title type='text'>the special relationship</title><content type='html'>&lt;!--StartFragment--&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;This article was published in The Daily Orange on October 15th.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;When I decided to study abroad in London I knew the language would be the same, but I had no idea how much else would be similar too. Winston Churchill coined the term special relationship in reference to the US and Britain’s WWII alliance. Since then, the countries have collaborated on issues from foreign affairs to trade agreements. When the British needed help fighting in Argentina in the 80s, the US was there. Similarly, when other countries hesitated to support American foreign wars after 9/11, Prime Minister Blair didn’t.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;London’s Saint Paul’s Cathedral is a historic landmark symbolizing hope and British strength. For 1400 years a cathedral has been on its site, with the present cathedral created 300 years ago. St. Paul’s holds memorials to British heroes of the past and, as a working church, has also been home to historical services such as the funeral of Sir Winston Churchill. It’s come to represent the resilience of the British people because it was bombed heavily during WWII but, like Britain, is still standing. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;St. Paul’s is full of marble statues and enormous jewel-colored mosaics on its high ceilings. At this site of British nationalism, directly behind the High Altar, is the American Memorial Chapel dedicated to US Servicemen stationed in the UK who perished during WWII. Symbolically, in the same place Britain pays respect to its country it also respects ours. But the ties that bind the US and UK go beyond government cooperation.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Beyonce, Lady Gage and Jay-Z dominate the UK Top 100 singles chart. Friends, The Hills, Scrubs and True Blood are constantly on TV. Abercrombie and Fitch is still a teenage staple. I’ve even heard The Boss’s "Born in the U.S.A." get played by a DJ (and no, not at Sports Café). Starbucks, McDonalds, Pizza Hut and KFC all line the streets. With so much in common, it seems like more than 3000 miles really isn’t that far.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Don’t get me wrong; Britain is definitely its own country. The soccer obsession, amazing pub food, classic taxis, telephone booths and landmarks are all things America doesn’t have. There are rules about manners and etiquette for escalators that the US would never abide by, and there’s always the monarchy to admire. Still, even in this distant country I can see similarities to home.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Historically, economically and culturally, a bond exists between Britain and America. This special relationship is discussed at length in my classes here, but it’s taught in more than just the classroom. As the weeks continue to roll by, a new branch of this bond grows increasingly in my own personal outlook. I feel like I belong in this city now. My random fits of homesickness are getting fewer and farther between. My daily commute and favorite places to grab coffee are becoming more routine. I love America. I’m excited to get back to country music, apple pies and 24-hour stores, but this country and all its quirks are starting to feel a little like home, too. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;!--EndFragment--&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2336356679434901763-2091316325501191993?l=cegelston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/2091316325501191993'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/2091316325501191993'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cegelston.blogspot.com/2009/10/special-relationship.html' title='the special relationship'/><author><name>Courtney</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2336356679434901763.post-7061274218269354983</id><published>2009-10-13T06:59:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-13T07:10:17.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'>upcoming visitors</title><content type='html'>My parents are coming to visit in less than a week! Their flight comes in Monday morning, and I think the only people more excited about this than me right now, are them. For the past couple of days while I wait for the tube or start to daydream in class, all I can think about is what we will do. I've been planning what sites I want to show them and when we'll go to all my favorite places. I've been thinking about how to tell them to navigate around the city and debating which things we should do together and what they should do while I'm in class. I know they're doing the same things, obsessing over packing and what time their flights are. When I asked them what they wanted to see most, they wrote back Courtney. I think the same thing about them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's been less than two months since I've seen them last, and I'm not sure if that's the longest stretch of time or not. Going to college less than two hours from home means I see my family pretty often, a luxery I've been grateful to have. Regardless of whether this is the longest we've been apart or not, I think the time stretch feels bigger than it is because there hasn't been an opportunity for me to see them. At school, if I go a month or two without traveling home, that's my decision. But here in London, I've wished a million times to be back in mom's kitchen or walking over to see dad at the farm. I can't wait for them to come see everything London has to offer, and to spend some time with them again. I'm counting down the days (and rushing to finish midterm work before they arrive)!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2336356679434901763-7061274218269354983?l=cegelston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/7061274218269354983'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/7061274218269354983'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cegelston.blogspot.com/2009/10/upcoming-visitors.html' title='upcoming visitors'/><author><name>Courtney</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2336356679434901763.post-4188892480785956435</id><published>2009-10-13T06:51:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-13T06:58:45.736-04:00</updated><title type='text'>how's the weather?</title><content type='html'>I expected London to be rainy, gloomy and damp, and am happy to say I was wrong. The weather in Britain for the past seven weeks has been absolutely beautiful. Though not hot, the sun is normally shining and it's only rained a few days. It's brisk and breezy without being unbearably windy and cold.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning I woke up early to run in the park, and had to wear two long-sleeve shirts. I thought this was the beginning of the cold season. I contemplated dragging out my wool coat from under a pile of suitcases. By the time I took a shower, watched the news and ate breakfast, the sun was out again and a light sweater was all I needed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Walking to class, I laughed knowing that last night my roommates in Syracuse had to turn on the heater, as the temperatures dropped to the low 30's. Seeing any sunshine in Syracuse becomes a a rarity around this time of year, making everything just a little bit gloomier. For me, today's forecast is 16 Celsius, around 60 Fahrenheit, and there isn't a cloud in the sky. Anyone who thinks London has bad weather must have never lived in Syracuse.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2336356679434901763-4188892480785956435?l=cegelston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/4188892480785956435'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/4188892480785956435'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cegelston.blogspot.com/2009/10/hows-weather.html' title='how&apos;s the weather?'/><author><name>Courtney</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2336356679434901763.post-2544000312072236774</id><published>2009-10-06T11:39:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-06T11:51:10.099-04:00</updated><title type='text'>upcoming trips!</title><content type='html'>As much as I love the city of London, sometimes I feel like I have seen a lot of the things to see here already. It's time for some trips! Friday I am going to Dover Castle, which is in Kent and was very important to the British and French in WWII. The following Friday I am going to Hampton Court Palace, which is supposed to be one of the best palaces in London. Both these trips are through the school and free with a £10 deposit, though they require meeting at the school at 8:30 a.m. Friday morning...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also just applied to do Host UK, which is a program that lets international students stay with a family for a weekend in some area of the UK. You fill out information about yourself, three weekends that you're available, and how far you're willing to travel (I said anywhere) and they match you up with a family. The earliest I can go is November, but I am very excited to see what life is like outside the city. I want to be matched up with a family in Scotland, so I can see the country, but you can't really pick your location. The program costs £40, but the school gives SU students £20 towards the cost. The family pays for your meals and you sleep in their house, but you need to pay for your travel to go visit them, though you set a limit for how much you're willing to pay for travel and the program doesn't match you up with an expensive, far away place if you don't want it. I can't wait to hear where they match me up!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aside from that, I'm also planning to go to Italy for mid semester break, Ireland near Thanksgiving, and Brussels with my European Union class in mid-November (Brussels isn't somewhere I would ever pick to go, so I thought it would be fun to see a random city, and I'm also interested in getting to see the EU.) I had thought about going to Spain, but the trip to Paris actually wound up being pretty pricey with the cost of travel, dining out, and the hostel- and since I don't actually have anything specific I want to see in Spain, I decided against it. The only other places I really would like to see are Scotland and Greece- so I'm going to work on that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2336356679434901763-2544000312072236774?l=cegelston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/2544000312072236774'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/2544000312072236774'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cegelston.blogspot.com/2009/10/upcoming-trips.html' title='upcoming trips!'/><author><name>Courtney</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2336356679434901763.post-6431666387909268042</id><published>2009-10-06T11:27:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-06T11:39:06.927-04:00</updated><title type='text'>saturday in london</title><content type='html'>After a fun-filled but tiring weekend to Paris, we decided to stay in London for this weekend. Most of my time was spent catching up on sleep and homework, but I did get to do some sightseeing. Saturday I saw the Kensington Gardens and Kensington Palace, which were both lovely. The gardens were filled with families, children and dogs, and it was nice to walk around and people watch. Kensington Palace is open for tours and has on display Princess Diana's gowns and exhibits on the debutant balls and their history in Britain. Seeing all the beautiful clothing was so fun, and the tour was filled with little information about all the balls that used to go on at the palace (like how big the cakes were, how the clothes were made, and what proper etiquette at balls is).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later on, we went to Harrods and saw all the posh displays of expensive clothing. Everything was so luxurious- even a simple headband was nearly $100! The shoes there were amazing, and all just open on display. We picked up one high heel and saw it cost nearly three grand, just laying out on the table! You'd think they would keep something so pricey under a glass case. I couldn't stay too long in Harrods, because in my blue jeans and cowboy boots I felt horribly out of place and my life savings wouldn't be enough to buy me a new outfit there. Still, seeing the store was a lot of fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At night we had a relaxing dinner out, a nice change of pace from cooking dinner every night, before meeting some friends out for drinks. It's really nice to have so many options for how to spend a Saturday. I think if I was at SU, I would have just gone to the football game, done some homework, and go to a house party with friends. I enjoy doing those things, and I miss them a little, but I really appreciate all the options London offers.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2336356679434901763-6431666387909268042?l=cegelston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/6431666387909268042'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/6431666387909268042'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cegelston.blogspot.com/2009/10/saturday-in-london.html' title='saturday in london'/><author><name>Courtney</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2336356679434901763.post-1924700964254304605</id><published>2009-10-06T11:15:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-06T11:27:39.545-04:00</updated><title type='text'>when in paris...</title><content type='html'>Paris is home to dozens of tourist attractions and historical sites, so it's easy to think of a list of things to do when you're there. The hard part is figuring out how to see everything you want to see in the limited time you have. Two of the tours I went on were extreamly good, and I'd recommend them both, so since a lot of people in London visit Paris as well, here's the details on them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The FREE Walking Tour:&lt;br /&gt;This tour runs daily, twice a day, and is completely free. We had a young, student guide named Kayla who, in less than four hours, showed us almost every single tourist site in Paris. The tour is through New Europe tours, and offered in many major European cities. We met Kayla in the Latin Quarter and walked the whole city in a group of around thirty people. I liked the tour because Kayla knew so much information about everything we saw, and was able to give us great backgrounds on each site. She also showed us a lot of things I hadn't thought to or planned on seeing, but really enjoyed, like the fountain in the middle of the Latin Quarter where students held riots in the 60s. Kayla also was great at answering questions and told us how to get where we wanted to go, when to see certain sites to get the cheapest deals, and where to go out at night. She even showed us the exact lampost that Big and Carrie meet at in the American Girl in Paris Sex and the City episode!! The tour took a lot out of us because we were walking around in the hot sun for so long, but I was happy to see everything quickly and feel like I could spend the rest of my time going back to sites I wanted to explore more at a slower pace. I'd recommend doing this tour early on in your trip (we went about 20minutes after we got into France) so that you have an idea of where everything is and can find your way back to things you really enjoyed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The On-Off River Tour:&lt;br /&gt;Originally, we were going to do a lunch cruise of the Seine River, but these tours are often expensive and a lot of them required us to book ahead. What we wound up doing was a 12 euro boat tour that lets you get on the boat wherever you'd like, but stops at around ten major sites (like the Eiffel Tower, Louvre, and Notre Dame) and lets you get off if you like. Then you can use your ticket and get back on the tour when you're done. This was nice beacuse it cut down on how much we had to walk or take the tube, and let us relax on the river inbetween stops. You can get on and off all day, up until 7 p.m., so go early and let the tour double as your transportation for the day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2336356679434901763-1924700964254304605?l=cegelston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/1924700964254304605'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/1924700964254304605'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cegelston.blogspot.com/2009/10/when-in-paris.html' title='when in paris...'/><author><name>Courtney</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2336356679434901763.post-9075048255415443782</id><published>2009-10-06T10:57:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-06T11:15:00.417-04:00</updated><title type='text'>the france fifteen</title><content type='html'>One of the most amazing parts about Paris was the food. Everything I ate in the five days I was there tasted like heaven and with each new bite I found myself saying, "This is the best thing yet!" The stereotype of French people roaming the streets with baguettes is a stereotype because it's true. On every street and at any hour of the day people walk around munching on the freshest, most delicious little loafs of bread. Every street we walked on had at least one perfect bakery with glass windows filled of handmade treats. My favorite foods, though it's hard to pick, were the chocolate eclairs, tartes aux pommes (apple tarts), croissants, and pain aux chocolatte (croissant with chocolate stuffed inside). I also had a petit tartine, which is like a baby cheesy, saucy pizza on a freshly made baguette.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most of the time we ate at small, delicious bakeries and roadside shops, but we did have a few sit down meals. I thoroughly enjoyed french breakfast both times I had it. The first time, I had fresh orange juice, coffee, and an omelette at a small, outdoor cafe. The second time, I relaxed while waiting for the Eurostar in the train station and had fresh juice, tea, a croissant, and a baguette. Both meals appear to be typical for French breakfasts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At our one sit down dinner, I had french onion soup (which was hands down the best soup I have ever had), fresh salmon, and chocolatte mousse. It was delicious- and less than 25 euros!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We stopped in for a sit-down lunch a few times, but I found it to be mediocre food and overpriced. I would recommend just eating at small, privately owned bakeries instead because I thought the people there were friendlier and the food was inexpensive and irresistable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the entire extended weekend there, my roommates and I let our food inhabitions go, threw any ideas of diets down the drain, and let our taste buds go nuts. I didn't buy anyone gifts in France because the best gift the country had to offer was its food, and I knew it wouldn't make the journey back to the US. Back here in London, I'm back to normal eating habits. I miss the food, but for my health's sake, I'm glad I didn't choose to study abroad in France!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2336356679434901763-9075048255415443782?l=cegelston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/9075048255415443782'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/9075048255415443782'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cegelston.blogspot.com/2009/10/france-fifteen.html' title='the france fifteen'/><author><name>Courtney</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2336356679434901763.post-3255320727000244314</id><published>2009-09-30T18:51:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-30T18:53:01.765-04:00</updated><title type='text'>notre dame</title><content type='html'>&lt;!--StartFragment--&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Notre Dame is beautiful from the outside and far away, but close up, it’s breath taking. The detailing in the structures makes you wonder how someone can not only think of that specific design, but also have the knowledge and talent to implement it. Each of the hundreds of faces carved into the archways shows a suffering nearly impossible to carve into rock. The gargoyles that loom overhead look like they might actually come alive at night. Equally amazing is that in a consumer driven world, they still hold mass in the church, and admission is always free.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Notre Dame is covered with gorgeous stained glass windows that look heavenly when the French sunlight shines through. The rich reds, bright blues, and deep purples cast a rainbow across the floors. The ceilings are so high that you strain your neck to look at the detailing on the top. As you circle around the inside of the church, you can examine the exhibits, which are set up throughout, depicting religious sacraments and the history of Notre Dame. In several places, there are rows of tiny burning candles. As I held my tea light to the one next to it I thought of my Papa, knowing that though he passed away last semester I still miss him everyday, and my uncle, who I hope will continue to fight his cancer. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Though I was raised Catholic, I consider myself an atheist. So how was it that I nearly cried near the rows of lights in a church? And why did I choose this spot and this moment to think of my loved ones? Standing there, deciding not to receive communion with my roommates, I wondered about the meaning of religion. Can you reject the idea of a God and still find sanctity and meaning in a church or a mass? As the priest started to sing, I wasn’t surprised to recognize the hymn, because I still know all the prayers I learned more than a decade ago. What I was surprised at was how much it moved me, and how at peace I felt in a place where I didn’t think I would belong.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Running around Versailles, the Louvre, Champs-Elysees , and the rest of Paris was exciting, but standing in Notre Dame felt cleansing. The ting of my sunburn, the desire for another éclair, the mild wine headache I was nursing, the blisters on my feet, all went away. No number of Syracuse religion classes can explain the torn feeling I had between my anti-religious stance and the comfort I surprisingly felt at a mass. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Not too long after, I was back outside on my way to a river tour of the Seine, yet another pastry shop, and the Eiffel Tower. After everything I did on my five day trip to Paris, I wouldn’t consider Notre Dame my favorite part, but I would say it was the most thought provoking, and something that has made me question myself and my beliefs.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;!--EndFragment--&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2336356679434901763-3255320727000244314?l=cegelston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/3255320727000244314'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/3255320727000244314'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cegelston.blogspot.com/2009/09/notre-dame.html' title='notre dame'/><author><name>Courtney</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2336356679434901763.post-6601748427250438350</id><published>2009-09-30T18:50:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-30T18:51:16.647-04:00</updated><title type='text'>so how was your weekend?</title><content type='html'>&lt;!--StartFragment--&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Tuesday morning in a cramped bathroom I threw on mascara, tried to fix my hair, and checked my phone. 11:12 a.m. I had already known I wouldn’t make it to class on time. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;“Can you tell our professor I’ll be late,” I texted a classmate. Normally this is when I’d try to think of an excuse to justify my tardiness, which didn’t so poorly mask that I missed my alarm after a rough night; but this time, the next text needed no stretch of the imagination. “I’m still in Paris.”&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I think I’ve wanted to go to Paris ever since the first time I saw a picture of the Eiffel Tower at night. Everything about the city—­the lights, the landmarks, the language— drips with romance and beauty. To spend five days there, and for my 20&lt;sup&gt;th&lt;/sup&gt; birthday, was like living out a fantasy.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;In five days we saw and did everything: window shopping down the Champs-Elysees, somberly viewing the tomb of the fallen soldier at L’Arc de Triomphe, eating dinner at a café overlooking the Eiffel Tower, perusing the Moulin Rouge, climbing the steps of Sacre de L’Acour to see the best view of Paris, and everything in between. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;When I called home while waiting to go on a river cruise of the Seine, my mom told me how proud she was that I was doing this trip so independently. Though I hadn’t thought about it before, she was right. I can barely find my way to the nearest Target at SU. How is it that I, and three friends from similarly small towns, managed to jet set off to a non-English speaking country with no one to fend for us but ourselves? You just have to make up your mind to do it, and hope you make it back in one piece. I think your 20’s (which I can now say I’m in) are the perfect time for traveling, because you’re mature and educated enough to want to see and appreciate all the historical landmarks, but young enough to run on full throttle, touring all day and raging into the early hours of morning soaking up the nightlife.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Savoring our Parisian dinners for one last time, we began to talk about our favorite parts of Paris. The Opera House, Versailles, sunbathing under the Eiffel Tower, mass at Notre Dame, and sipping wine on the glass pyramids of the Louvre all made the list. So did the food. I don’t need a cheap T-shirt to remind me that J’adore Paris. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I’m writing this as I stare out at the French countryside, which looks a lot like my hometown. I’m alone, having just missed booking a seat on the train my roommates took an hour earlier. I’ll be back in London one minute before my lecture begins. In a little while I’ll need to finish the reading for class, but for now, and at my leisure for the rest of my life, I’m just going to enjoy thinking about this trip and all I was able to see. Studying abroad in Australia might give you a killer tan, but it won’t give you weekend trips to foreign countries whenever you please. If London itself isn’t a big enough incentive to study abroad, then the ability to travel through Europe for a semester definitely makes it worth missing a few football games.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;!--EndFragment--&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2336356679434901763-6601748427250438350?l=cegelston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/6601748427250438350'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/6601748427250438350'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cegelston.blogspot.com/2009/09/so-how-was-your-weekend.html' title='so how was your weekend?'/><author><name>Courtney</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2336356679434901763.post-2264884316456467696</id><published>2009-09-30T08:04:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-30T08:23:39.093-04:00</updated><title type='text'>cinq beaux jours à paris</title><content type='html'>Yesterday I returned to London after spending five beautiful days in Paris, and now my mind is filled with everything I want to say about the trip, but also everything I need to do here in London- as classes and homework and errands have all piled up. So for now, here's the rundown of how I spent my time in Paris, and I'll go into details on all my favorite parts very soon!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friday:&lt;br /&gt;-left the flat around 5:30 am and arrived in Paris by train around 10 am (Paris time)&lt;br /&gt;-stopped off at the Aloha hostel for about five minutes before doing a&lt;br /&gt;-free, 3-4 hour walking tour through the city (we saw everything!!)&lt;br /&gt;-relaxed on the Champs d'Elysses&lt;br /&gt;-wine at a cafe overlooking the Eiffel Tower&lt;br /&gt;-sat on the side of the glass pyramid of the Louvre, drinking wine and admiring the Eiffel Tower in the distance&lt;br /&gt;- got denied from a French club, so took a taxi home&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saturday:&lt;br /&gt;-breakfast at a French cafe&lt;br /&gt;-saw mass at Notre Dame&lt;br /&gt;-boat tour on the Seine River&lt;br /&gt;-lied down under the Eiffel Tower, took a cat nap in the sun&lt;br /&gt;-lunch at a nearby cafe&lt;br /&gt;-went back to the hostel to freshen up and ate baguette and cheese for dinner&lt;br /&gt;-pub crawl with a group of fellow SU students&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunday:&lt;br /&gt;-got a quick bite at a pastry shop&lt;br /&gt;-took the train to Versailles and saw the palace and gardens&lt;br /&gt;-went for a walk near the hostel before freshening up&lt;br /&gt;-ate a late, fancy dinner near the Eiffel Tower&lt;br /&gt;-walked to the tower to see it lit up at night&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Monday:&lt;br /&gt;-toured the Arc de Triomphe&lt;br /&gt;-window shopped down the Champs d'Elysses&lt;br /&gt;-ate the best eclair ever!&lt;br /&gt;-toured Sacre le Cours and climbed to the top to see the "best view" of Paris&lt;br /&gt;-saw the Moulin Rouge&lt;br /&gt;-ate a quick lunch, got snacks, window shopped&lt;br /&gt;-did some reading for class outdoors at a cafe&lt;br /&gt;-ate a last dinner at a really fun restaurant&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tuesday:&lt;br /&gt;-checked out of the hostel and went to the train station&lt;br /&gt;-ate my last French breakfast at a little cafe&lt;br /&gt;-took the train back to London, and went immediately from the station to class&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2336356679434901763-2264884316456467696?l=cegelston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/2264884316456467696'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/2264884316456467696'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cegelston.blogspot.com/2009/09/cinq-beaux-jours-paris.html' title='cinq beaux jours à paris'/><author><name>Courtney</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2336356679434901763.post-1028428077988487788</id><published>2009-09-25T18:47:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-30T18:49:38.270-04:00</updated><title type='text'>my favorite london sunday</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;This article was published in the Daily Orange on September 24th.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;!--StartFragment--&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"&gt;If I could only have one day in London, I’d make it last Sunday. I woke up early to go to the Brick Lane and East End markets with a school tour. Both these markets are only open Sundays from 8 a.m. until 2 p.m., but it’s worth getting up early for, even after a rough Saturday night. Arriving at the start of the day will offer you the biggest selection, but vendors are more likely to lower prices just before closing. While Notting Hill and the Portobella Markets offer a more famous, posh view of London, the East End will give you something not normally seen by tourists, and it’s less crowded so you can move slowly, taking it all in.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"&gt;Just a few blocks from the Liverpool tube station, in a back alleyway you wouldn’t know is there, a fairytale flower market was set up. The roads were closed and the streets were filled with fresh orchids and bright sunflowers. Families and couples walked hand-in-hand admiring all the vendors had to offer, while the sun warmed the crisp, cool air. The streets were lined with tiny antique shops and cute little bakeries. I stopped in one store and was greeted by an elegant French woman who sells vintage Chanel and one-of-a-kind jewelry. I wanted to buy everything.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"&gt;After a quick two hours, I walked over to Brick Lane, which sells clothing, shoes and accessories, both new and used. This part of town is a little bit funkier than most of London and the sound of punk rock music spills out of dimly lit pubs, while teenage girls in bright red lipstick search for something no one else will have. Wandering around this area surrounded by friendly people made me forget I am a tourist.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"&gt;That night, after putting away all my treasures, I took the tube to the annual Mayor of London’s Thames Festival, on the banks of the Thames River. The area was filled with fair-like vendors offering everything from curry to crepes to artwork. A live band played songs I’ve never heard, and it seemed like everyone in London had come out for the event. The view was absolutely magical with the London Eye and Big Ben lit up in the night sky. In a city as big as London, I expected to feel kind of alone here, but on that Sunday, without any planning, so many of the SU London group met up while walking around. Maybe back at school we wouldn’t hang out, but here in London what Greek house you’re in or major you are doesn’t really matter. We all stood on the Westminster Bridge together, waiting for the fireworks to start. As the display sparked over the river, I thought about how happy I was, being in this city and seeing so many special things all in one day. I don’t know if I’ll ever make it to this once-a-year festival again, or if I’ll be able to find my way back to my favorite French vendor, but I do know that day convinced me that coming to London was the right choice.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;!--EndFragment--&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2336356679434901763-1028428077988487788?l=cegelston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/1028428077988487788'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/1028428077988487788'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cegelston.blogspot.com/2009/09/my-favorite-london-sunday.html' title='my favorite london sunday'/><author><name>Courtney</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2336356679434901763.post-4222701596721844923</id><published>2009-09-24T14:06:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-24T14:10:36.963-04:00</updated><title type='text'>paris, here we come!</title><content type='html'>tomorrow morning at 6 am I am leaving for Paris until Tuesday afternoon, when I will arrive in London about two seconds before class starts. So I won't have computer access until late Tuesday-- but expect blog updates then! I'm so excited!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2336356679434901763-4222701596721844923?l=cegelston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/4222701596721844923'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/4222701596721844923'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cegelston.blogspot.com/2009/09/paris-here-we-come.html' title='paris, here we come!'/><author><name>Courtney</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2336356679434901763.post-7775316292072806926</id><published>2009-09-24T03:00:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-30T18:47:09.088-04:00</updated><title type='text'>turning twenty</title><content type='html'>&lt;!--StartFragment--&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Last night I sat at the dining room table trying to finish an article for the DO, while my roommates had the usual “to go out, or not to go out,” debate. Suddenly I realised (British spelling) that midnight would mean my birthday. That settled it. Less than an hour later my article was done, we were dressed up, drinks had been poured, and we were on our way to one of the bars we frequent most, the Walk About. The Walk About was recommended to us by a friend of a friend who spent a few weeks in London and said we had to go and get a snake bite. Obviously, we were intrigued. It’s an Australian chain bar with a really fun, chill, American-music-playing dance floor.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I enjoyed free drinks and good company as I embraced the milestone all college students must go through, the ending of my teen years and entry into my twenties. At midnight, my roommates and some friends in the SU program sang happy birthday and the DJ announced it over the speakers before playing Bruce Springsteen for me. I was now officially Born in the U.S.A. twenty years ago, and life in my 20’s, so far, is pretty good. One more day of classes in London before it’s off to Paris to celebrate. Cheers! &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;!--EndFragment--&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2336356679434901763-7775316292072806926?l=cegelston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/7775316292072806926'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/7775316292072806926'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cegelston.blogspot.com/2009/09/turning-twenty.html' title='turning twenty'/><author><name>Courtney</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2336356679434901763.post-3239274475325198236</id><published>2009-09-23T06:56:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-23T07:06:34.083-04:00</updated><title type='text'>the token crazy man</title><content type='html'>Before I left for London, many people warned me that Londoners would hate me for being American. Fellow students, old classmates, neighbors, even people I ran into at the grocery store urged me to try and hide the fact that I am American, and to prepare for people to randomly yell at me, or steer me the wrong way if I asked for directions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps it's because of the recent change in political administration, but after three weeks here I have not found, and do not expect to find, any of this to be true. I find Londoners to be extremely polite and helpful. So Monday when I was waiting in line at the post office and a man started shouting about how much he hates Americans, I was shocked. For a minute I thought maybe everything people had said to me was true. As he yelled, "One American in Britain is more than enough!" and "Britain is a great country. We don't need stupid Americans!"; I tried to hide the address on the envelope I was sending.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then I saw that everyone else in the building, all Brits, were disgusted with this man. He wasn't a summation of British hate for Americans, he was just a crazy guy. Every country has some, and this man is one of theirs. An employee asked him to leave and refused to help him. The man yelled the N word and began cursing as he was ushered out the door. I don't know what other Americans experienced while they were abroad, but I hope they didn't base their ideas that British people are rude off an incident like that. As far as I'm concerned, people here are just as warm, friendly, and polite as at home.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2336356679434901763-3239274475325198236?l=cegelston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/3239274475325198236'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/3239274475325198236'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cegelston.blogspot.com/2009/09/token-crazy-man.html' title='the token crazy man'/><author><name>Courtney</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2336356679434901763.post-1169546059616144346</id><published>2009-09-22T16:53:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-22T17:05:03.462-04:00</updated><title type='text'>distance is nothing</title><content type='html'>Today has not been my best day. Despite the fact that I am in an amazing country and taking great classes, I just felt crummy for no real good reason. A bit of homesickness, writer's block, and the fear that I won't have everything ready for graduation in the Spring just freaked me out. I tried to soak in some London culture today during a break in classes, but wound up just roaming the streets, feeling lost. After two hours of walking around, I didn't feel like I saw or learned anything new. I started to wonder what I am supposed to do now. I've already seen all the tourist sites, I've already visited all the recommended areas. All my best friends are at home, and now I am walking around a foreign city in a foreign country feeling alone. Worst of all, I felt guilty for even thinking these thoughts when I know I am so fortunate to be able to come abroad.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But then I got a message from a friend, and I thought of what my day would be like if I felt this stressed at home or at SU. I thought of what she would say to me, and how she'd give me a hug and make me feel better. And then I thought of what everyone else that I care about would do or say to cure my bout of grumpiness, and somehow, even though none of them are here, and I can't call anyone, and I didn't talk to anyone from the U.S., it still made things better. So thanks to all those people. Thank you for being such amazing friends while I was with you that even when I'm not, you still cheer me up.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2336356679434901763-1169546059616144346?l=cegelston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/1169546059616144346'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/1169546059616144346'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cegelston.blogspot.com/2009/09/distance-is-nothing.html' title='distance is nothing'/><author><name>Courtney</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2336356679434901763.post-7209444847036949143</id><published>2009-09-22T09:15:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-22T09:16:03.455-04:00</updated><title type='text'>sorry!</title><content type='html'>Just wanted to quickly apologize for the recent lack of posts. The Dream Flat has been experiencing Internet difficulties, but I have been writing, and will post more soon. XX&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2336356679434901763-7209444847036949143?l=cegelston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/7209444847036949143'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/7209444847036949143'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cegelston.blogspot.com/2009/09/sorry.html' title='sorry!'/><author><name>Courtney</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2336356679434901763.post-3790031430171869369</id><published>2009-09-19T13:14:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-19T13:24:23.819-04:00</updated><title type='text'>tube troubles</title><content type='html'>Yesterday afternoon two of my roommates and I took the tube to a different part of town to go on a tour. We went through stations we'd never been through before, and the whole train was very packed. The three of us were getting off onto the platform, when suddenly the doors closed: the two of them out of the train and me still on it. I stood there so confused knocking on the doors. They fell down laughing. How hopeless.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2336356679434901763-3790031430171869369?l=cegelston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/3790031430171869369'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/3790031430171869369'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cegelston.blogspot.com/2009/09/tube-troubles.html' title='tube troubles'/><author><name>Courtney</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2336356679434901763.post-79429446570635050</id><published>2009-09-18T06:40:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-18T06:58:49.057-04:00</updated><title type='text'>i get college credit for this?</title><content type='html'>This semester I am taking five classes, one of which is a 500 level interpretation of British film course.  Since I don't know anything about film, I thought it would be interesting and that we would talk about different ways of making films or marketing them, and perhaps watch a few clips. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Turns out we watch a lot of clips. Say, an entire movie each class. The class is three hours long, so by the time the film is done playing, we have a short while to discuss a few aspects of it and then class is over. How easy is that? And it gets better. As part of our class, we take field trips to various cinemas throughout central London to see recent British films, on the school's tab. My professor even told us to keep the receipts for any popcorn or concessions we bought, and she will try and get us reimbursed. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yesterday we went to Odeon Cinema in Leicester Square to see Dorian Gray. The film itself was not enjoyable for me because it was pretty dark, a little graphic, and too scary for my liking. I guess I just prefer rom-com's. The cinema was amazing though. I think just it's sheer size was what made it so great- the building itself was enormous with huge glass windows, and the movie's screen was probably four times the size of a typical U.S. theatre screen. I wish I knew how many people the theatre we were in sits, because it was so big it looked like an opera house. With mounted sculptures on the wall and a huge stage in front of the film's screen, this place could easily be used for plays. Our next cinema excursion is in a couple weeks, but this theatre and this class are both things I highly recommend.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2336356679434901763-79429446570635050?l=cegelston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/79429446570635050'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/79429446570635050'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cegelston.blogspot.com/2009/09/i-get-college-credit-for-this.html' title='i get college credit for this?'/><author><name>Courtney</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2336356679434901763.post-3006914575266864359</id><published>2009-09-16T19:56:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-17T16:20:31.284-04:00</updated><title type='text'>happy birthday mum</title><content type='html'>Today is mom's (mum's) 50th birthday! Not being able to celebrate with her is a bit sad. I think that's the hardest part about being in London- not being able to see your family and friends whenever you want. But so far, the distance has been bearable because I think of everyone back at home so often. Every day I see something that makes me think of home, or something I know mom would love to see. This keeps her, and the rest of the fam, in my thoughts and makes the distance seem a little less far. So have fun celebrating mom, and know I think of you all the time. XX&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2336356679434901763-3006914575266864359?l=cegelston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/3006914575266864359'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/3006914575266864359'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cegelston.blogspot.com/2009/09/happy-birthday-mum.html' title='happy birthday mum'/><author><name>Courtney</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2336356679434901763.post-9018961876817379342</id><published>2009-09-16T15:05:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-18T07:01:07.764-04:00</updated><title type='text'>a note on this blog</title><content type='html'>Aside from the brief "About this Blog" section, I haven't really explained my purpose with this blog, so here goes:&lt;div&gt;I am blessed to have a large, close-knit family, but studying abroad makes it difficult to keep in touch with everyone. I started this blog to let my family and friends know what I'm up to here in London. In doing this, I hope it can be of interest or use to people curious about London or other students planning to study abroad. Also, as a journalism student, blogging makes sure I continue to write while I am here. Going along with this is my involvement with the school paper. Because most of my readers don't go to Syracuse, I want to explain a little what I mean when I post something and say it was for The Daily Orange.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The DO is Syracuse's student-run newspaper, and I think it's safe to say that nearly everyone on campus picks it up. Each week I am writing a 500 word travel column for the opinion section. These articles will be printed in the paper edition and posted on the DO's website, but I will also post them here. They'll be different from my other posts because they are longer and geared toward a student audience, so they talk more about college life. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2336356679434901763-9018961876817379342?l=cegelston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/9018961876817379342'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/9018961876817379342'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cegelston.blogspot.com/2009/09/note-on-this-blog.html' title='a note on this blog'/><author><name>Courtney</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2336356679434901763.post-6063103116903041009</id><published>2009-09-16T15:02:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-16T15:05:01.546-04:00</updated><title type='text'>my first bar review</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" ;font-family:'American Typewriter';"&gt;&lt;div style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 3px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 3px; padding-left: 3px; width: auto; font: normal normal normal 100%/normal Georgia, serif; text-align: left; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" font-style: normal; font-family:'American Typewriter';"&gt;&lt;div style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 3px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 3px; padding-left: 3px; width: auto; font: normal normal normal 100%/normal Georgia, serif; text-align: left; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;This is an article written for The Daily Orange's Thursday, September 17th edition. It is therefore directed at a student audience, so Mom and Dad- don't judge.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;If you're going abroad to London, don't schedule class early Wednesday morning unless you like taking tests with a hangover. Tuesday nights at Sports Café are a religion. This two-story bar/club in Piccadilly Circus (similar to NYC's Times Square) is an American staple. Students studying abroad with all different universities, from SU to UNH to Notre Dame, gather here. In class on Tuesday, no one asks where you're going out for the night because after one week in London, everyone already knows.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Sports Café has four bars, a dance stage with disco lights, and more than half a dozen pool tables. Picture Maggie’s, but bigger, nicer, cheaper, and with fewer sorority girls wearing leggings. It’s open until 3 a.m., unlike many pubs in London, which can close as early as midnight. Getting there is easy because it’s less than a five-minute walk from the tube station. Admission is free, drinks are cheap, the music is our own, and the place is busting at the seams with people just like you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;At Sports Cafe, you're more likely to hear a southern accent than a British one. You can wear whatever you want without worrying you look like a sloppy American. With the blaring Top 40 hits, dim lighting, and crowded dance floor, it's like being back at your favorite fraternity party... except not in a dirty basement. There are even beer pong tables conveniently set up a few steps from the bar. After spending every second in a foreign country, it’s refreshing to be at a place that feels so much like home. Other locations include Birmingham, Glasgow, and Leeds, but it hasn’t made it out of the UK yet, so don’t expect to find one in another part of Europe.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Sports Café is a haven for the poor, penniless student. Some clubs charge $5 for a single shot, but here you can get five shots for $6.50. There’s no cover charge with a student ID, a pint is only $1.50, and a pitcher (a little over four large glasses) is $6. With a cheap bottle of wine to pre-game with (most run around $3-$4), you can have a blackout evening for less than 10 bucks.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;The first Tuesday we were here, I didn’t go to Sports Café because I felt too tired. I sincerely hope I’m not that much of a wimp again. I woke up this morning with my contacts still in and, after taking a lap around the apartment, three questions: how did we get home, why is someone sleeping on the couch, and did I make ravioli? I rushed off to class, too late to fill in the blanks of last night. Taking notes at 9 a.m. in my three-hour lecture on Islam, only one question ran nonstop through my mind. Is it Tuesday yet?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2336356679434901763-6063103116903041009?l=cegelston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/6063103116903041009'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/6063103116903041009'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cegelston.blogspot.com/2009/09/my-first-bar-review.html' title='my first bar review'/><author><name>Courtney</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2336356679434901763.post-6365961109021673109</id><published>2009-09-12T16:38:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-14T16:51:26.211-04:00</updated><title type='text'>a good morning</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Thursday morning I woke up naturally to bright, morning sunshine streaming across my white, fluffy comforter and the pale wooden floors. There have been many days in my life, and I'm sure they'll be many more, when I wake up and know exactly what I'll be doing that day.  The monotonous rhythm of a planned schedule can make your whole day seem like a chore. Knowing you'll be walking to the same places, going to the same classes, talking with the same people, and sitting in the same places, makes  all those things uninteresting.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;But waking up in London, especially on a sunny day without the buzz of an alarm, feels like waking up to possibilities. On Thursday I woke up knowing I'd go to class for a few hours, but having no clue what else I would do, where else I would go, who I might meet. Maybe that's something that comes with moving to any city, but it's enjoyable all the same.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2336356679434901763-6365961109021673109?l=cegelston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/6365961109021673109'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/6365961109021673109'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cegelston.blogspot.com/2009/09/good-morning.html' title='a good morning'/><author><name>Courtney</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2336356679434901763.post-8108947701073997712</id><published>2009-09-12T16:27:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-14T16:43:31.119-04:00</updated><title type='text'>down time guilt</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  ;font-family:'American Typewriter';font-size:16px;"&gt;&lt;div style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 3px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 3px; padding-left: 3px; width: auto; font: normal normal normal 100%/normal Georgia, serif; text-align: left; "&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Wednesday evening was the first time that all five roommates were home together with no intentions of going out. It was a decently long day for all of us with classes and working out, so retiring to the Dream Flat was homey and welcoming. Peter and Jess got groceries and Colleen baked a cake. We all just watched TV and hung out. Later, we made a fort by flipping over the leather couches and pushing the seats together. A blogworthy night? Maybe not. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; min-height: 14px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;A big pang of guilt comes along with not raging every night, with not touring and discovering every second. But being a student in London still means being a student: going to class, working out, doing homework, making dinner. I'm having trouble coming to terms with that because I didn't realize before that on occasion, I'm going to sit home, watch TV, and go to bed early.  Four months is just too long not to have some relaxation.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2336356679434901763-8108947701073997712?l=cegelston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/8108947701073997712'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/8108947701073997712'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cegelston.blogspot.com/2009/09/down-time-guilt.html' title='down time guilt'/><author><name>Courtney</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2336356679434901763.post-5213854249609984269</id><published>2009-09-11T11:50:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-11T11:54:29.337-04:00</updated><title type='text'>directions</title><content type='html'>Yesterday morning someone asked me for directions. For a minute, I thought maybe I look like I fit in here. Then he walked away (unhelped) and I remembered that I too, was lost.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2336356679434901763-5213854249609984269?l=cegelston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/5213854249609984269'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/5213854249609984269'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cegelston.blogspot.com/2009/09/directions.html' title='directions'/><author><name>Courtney</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2336356679434901763.post-1339408130105841261</id><published>2009-09-11T07:52:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-11T08:07:52.620-04:00</updated><title type='text'>the dream flat</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;This is an article published in The Daily Orange, Syracuse University's student-run newspaper, on Friday September 11th. Though it's for a student audience, it gives a good description of my housing situation in London. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; "&gt;If you're a sophomore in Syracuse looking to escape that cramped four-person "suite" you call home, then September marks the beginning of your off-campus housing search. Having now done the process and lived for some time in both SU and London, I can tell you this: your future "home sweet home" sucks. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought I lucked out with my junior year living arrangement. A front porch, fully furnished and utilities included tricked me into believing I had a great place. I moved in this June to find mice droppings, mold, leaking ceilings, cracked walls and dirty mismatched furniture. A Band-Aid was stuck to the yellowed sides of my shower, water wasn't included in my rent, and I needed quarters for the cobweb-covered washing machine in the basement. This was my reward for weeks of apartment hunting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In London, you're given a list of recommended landlords and sent on your own if you opt not to do the pre-arranged housing. There are no restrictions to where you can live or whom you live with, though most students don't stray too far from central London. Duncan McGlashan from McGlashans Property Service comes highly recommended by former SU London students, so Jess Solomon, Peter Themistocles, Colleen Brawley, Matt Sisk and I decided to go through him. At noon he showed us three flats, and by 2 p.m. we were already having a celebratory lunch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No offense to Ben Tupper, who boasts his record as The Daily Orange's highest rated landlord, but he's got nothing on Duncan. Monday, McGlashan invited all his tenants to a local pub for a free dinner and drinks. He passed out shots and even bought a couple bottles of champagne before sending us home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Dream Flat, as we affectionately refer to it, is a five-person, two bedroom, two bathroom apartment with a washer and dryer, dishwasher, and garbage compacter. Here, the term fully-furnished means beautiful leather couches, all pots and dishes stocked, bedding provided, and a new TV and DVD player. They even provide an iron, outlet converters, and toilet paper. Utilities-included not only means gas and electric, but also wireless Internet, cable, and a maid service. That's right, once a week someone comes in to clean the whole flat, scrub the toilets, make our beds, and give us fresh towels. With stainless steel appliances and hardwood floors throughout, this place is nicer than my house, as are most student apartments here (the flat we turned down had a balcony, fireplace and indoor hot tub). Since SU London gives all the students a housing stipend, I only pay nine pounds a week out-of-pocket, a lot better than my $540/month rent at Syracuse.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; "&gt;The moral of all this bragging is don't stress about your housing search at SU because no matter what you do, it's not going to be perfect. But go ahead and camp out in front of Campus Hill Apartments anyways, just remember to go through McGlashan if you ever decide to go to London. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;For the article online on The Daily Orange's web site, click &lt;a href="http://media.www.dailyorange.com/media/storage/paper522/news/2009/09/10/Opinion/Su.Abroad.Student.Finds.dream.Flat.In.London-3768802.shtml"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2336356679434901763-1339408130105841261?l=cegelston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/1339408130105841261'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/1339408130105841261'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cegelston.blogspot.com/2009/09/dream-flat.html' title='the dream flat'/><author><name>Courtney</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2336356679434901763.post-3797942320144432393</id><published>2009-09-09T07:37:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-09T07:56:38.934-04:00</updated><title type='text'>a stepping stone</title><content type='html'>London is a great starter city. Before I left for London, when people asked where I wanted to move after college I would say that I definitely didn't want to be in a city. I didn't think I could handle it. Growing up on a farm means having a lot of space and knowing almost every person you see. My town at home doesn't have streetlights or sidewalks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cities are crowded and nosy and dirty and you need to use a map or public transport and it is confusing. Syracuse is a city, yes, but being a student at Syracuse University does not mean living in a city. At school, everything is made simple for you. A school bus brings you to class if you live too far away from campus. Everyone is going to the same places and SU cops can always give you a lift. There's no need to navigate or find your way around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being a student at SU London means living in a city. It means looking at a map and finding your way around. These are things I didn't think I could handle, but coming to London has been easier than going to NYC. In New York, I am a foreigner to the city, but no one knows that. I'm uncomfortable with the subway and the street signs and the traffic, but my discomfort is unexpected by others. In London, no one expects me to already know the tube or the streets, so I have the chance to learn these things- free of judgement- and challenge myself to find my own way around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been here for a week and a day. In NYC, Boston, or even Syracuse, I would never have the confidence to go from one part of the city to the other alone once it's dark; but last night I took the tube home after a meeting around 8:30, and I was completely fine. I knew when I decided to come here that this semester would mean trying new things, but I never expected to learn so much from the little stuff. Being here now, I realize that for me- a small town, country girl- just making my own way around a city is a new, important, valuable lesson.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2336356679434901763-3797942320144432393?l=cegelston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/3797942320144432393'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/3797942320144432393'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cegelston.blogspot.com/2009/09/stepping-stone.html' title='a stepping stone'/><author><name>Courtney</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2336356679434901763.post-889294677030841661</id><published>2009-09-08T11:19:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-08T11:33:22.352-04:00</updated><title type='text'>a new favorite thing</title><content type='html'>Sunday was move-in day, which means I finally have a new stomping ground. My flat (more on it later) is in Marylebone, which is in between Regents and Hyde Parks. After unpacking, I finally got to go for my first London run. I think I studied my map for a half-hour before I worked up the courage to try and find the park on my own. Turns out it's really only a 10 minute walk away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Regents Park has a lot to offer: tennis courts, football (soccer) fields, a track, little cafe's, the Queen's rose garden, the London Zoo, an outdoor theatre with occasional live music/shows, little ponds, and paddle boats for rent. Running through it was cleansing. London is a beautiful, classy city, and it's not as crowded as NYC, but it sometimes makes me feel too suffocated. After living in the country my whole life, one thing I've learned about myself is that I need space- and Regents Park has plenty to offer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't bring my iPod because I wanted to get the full experience. I saw a lot of new couples with babies, elderly people going for a late-afternoon stroll, and dogs roaming around without a leash. I followed the sound of music playing to the outdoor arena, and caught a few glimpses of a live show. The kind of people who walk in a park on a Sunday afternoon are exactly the kind of people I wanted to see- families and friendly passerby's, all with a smile or a cheerful nod.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Midway through my run, I passed a pretty young, 20-something woman on her mobile trying to pinpoint the location of a friend. As I kept jogging I saw her and the friend (also on the phone trying to describe her location) run into each other, drop down their phones without hanging up, and laugh. They had been right next to each other the whole time. Immediately there were shrieks of, "How are you?" and "You look great!" I smiled to myself knowing that me and my friends would have done the same exact thing. My bought of homesickness ended with the realization that no matter where you go, people are the same.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2336356679434901763-889294677030841661?l=cegelston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/889294677030841661'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/889294677030841661'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cegelston.blogspot.com/2009/09/new-favorite-thing.html' title='a new favorite thing'/><author><name>Courtney</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2336356679434901763.post-7726793520310190713</id><published>2009-09-08T10:49:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-09T07:59:52.898-04:00</updated><title type='text'>a little bit of culture</title><content type='html'>One of the greatest assets of London is all the culture and historical sights the city has to offer. In just one city, in a country smaller than many U.S. states, you can see a dozen tourist attractions in a single (although &lt;em&gt;very&lt;/em&gt; busy) day. For most of the week, it seems I haven't been doing much more than running errands, finding a flat, getting lost, and exploring pubs- so when Saturday had no itinerary, the flatmates and I decided to venture out. Within 30 minutes of walking and taking the tube, we were by the River Thames and all the beautiful landmarks the Westminster area has to offer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our first stop was to visit the Queen, who as luck would have it, was home (the British flag flies over Buckingham Palace while she's in.) The Palace puts our White House to shame. There are elaborate statues and impeccable gardens throughout the area, which oddly enough has a cobblestone street running right through the front of the castle. From the Palace you can see Big Ben and the London Eye. We walked to these sites through St. &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;James's&lt;/span&gt; Park, which was unbelievably picturesque, with swans swimming and Londoners sunning themselves on the grass. The nice thing for me about being in this area was being able to be a tourist without shame. Everyone there has come to see sights, so ogling a map or asking for directions is common.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Big Ben and Westminster Abbey were my favorite of the things we saw. The buildings look so classic and appear magical even on a busy afternoon. The House of Parliament , Guards' Museum, London Eye, and Thames River were all interesting sites and I was happy to see in person the things I've only ever seen pictures of, but I didn't really tour anything or stop at any one place too long (&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;SU&lt;/span&gt; puts on cheap tours to these sites, so I'm saving my pounds to go see them thoroughly then.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The afternoon ended with us getting lost trying to take the bus- a red, double &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;decker&lt;/span&gt;- back to the hotel. Despite that minor set-back, I came away feeling accomplished for seeing so much, and grateful because you just don't see all that beauty and history so close together in the States.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2336356679434901763-7726793520310190713?l=cegelston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/7726793520310190713'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/7726793520310190713'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cegelston.blogspot.com/2009/09/little-bit-of-culture.html' title='a little bit of culture'/><author><name>Courtney</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2336356679434901763.post-1941269246435216014</id><published>2009-09-05T13:17:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-05T13:41:57.756-04:00</updated><title type='text'>little things</title><content type='html'>Homesickness comes in waves. Every once in awhile I suddenly realize that I &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;can't&lt;/span&gt; go home for months. At school, going home is always an option. I'm so used to calling home when I'm walking somewhere around campus or on my way to grab coffee, but I can't just check-in quick here. When conversations with loved ones are so few and far between, the smaller details often get left out and the trivial parts of one another's lives become tiny mysteries, not detrimental to a relationship but adding up to make a kind of space that didn't used to be there. E-mails and Skype calls stick to the basics: what did you do? are you okay? is everyone healthy? So now I know my sister starts a new year at work, but I can't help her decide what to wear. My friends say everything in Syracuse is the same, but I don't know if they ordered cookies at 2am or who they're looking up on Facebook. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I've had to get around 20 new room keys at my hotel because I keep putting it by my phone and deactivating it, I have four blisters, and last night I ordered sausage pizza at 3am and it was one of the best pizzas I ever had- although we got a super large and it was only 8 tiny slices. I won't remember to tell you those kind of things when we talk again, but it makes me feel less separated to have you know now.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2336356679434901763-1941269246435216014?l=cegelston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/1941269246435216014'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/1941269246435216014'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cegelston.blogspot.com/2009/09/little-things.html' title='little things'/><author><name>Courtney</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2336356679434901763.post-2229725358162341504</id><published>2009-09-04T10:01:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-04T10:59:07.345-04:00</updated><title type='text'>drinking with British boys</title><content type='html'>Most of the Syracuse program went out to local pubs near the hotel (Shakespere's Head and O'Neils) together Tuesday and Wednesday night, so come last night a fair share decided to stay in. I can order a pizza and watch a movie in America but I can't wander the streets of London or drink a pint of Guiness there, so &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;obviously&lt;/span&gt; I did not join them.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;After taking a cab to a "bar/club" that wound up only having a dozen or so people drinking casually, my future roommates and I wandered past shops and closed restaurants for blocks. Things were looking pretty grim when we came upon what must have been the theatre district, lit-up by a Dirty Dancing poster and the Lion King musical's venue. When it seemed like our night out was doomed, we turned the corner and found a small but busy pub filled with music, young 20-somethings, AND cheaper pints! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We were about to settle in to a little table, when we got up the nerve to go talk to some locals. Thank goodness for liquid courage! Our new friends were completely cool with the fact that we know nothing about their country. I expected the Brits to be a bit snotty, cold, and unwilling to give directions or recommend restaurants, but these guys invited our whole group to sit down, bought us a round, and took out a map. They circled all the spots we should see while we're here, then got out our Tube map and showed us how to get there. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Before we left, they asked how long we were visiting for. "We'll be here until December," we told them. "You're not tourists," one said. "You're residents now."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2336356679434901763-2229725358162341504?l=cegelston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/2229725358162341504'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/2229725358162341504'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cegelston.blogspot.com/2009/09/drinking-with-british-boys.html' title='drinking with British boys'/><author><name>Courtney</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2336356679434901763.post-2649082894486595611</id><published>2009-09-04T09:44:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-04T09:59:45.491-04:00</updated><title type='text'>first impressions</title><content type='html'>London is beautiful. The people are like the buildings- classic and charming with a sense of style that makes you feel as though you have to be dressed up. Everything is just a little bit fancier, even McDonalds makes fresh deli sandwiches and Pizza Hut has cafe-style outdoor seating. The accents here are adorable, and so far everyone has been very helpful when I've had to ask for directions (which is often) or when I got confused with the currency (one pound coins look so much like nickels to me!)&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I feel very guilty for it, but after three days here I still haven't seen any major landmarks. Our days have been filled with orientation activities and trying to find a flat to stay in these next few months. Mix in our jet-lag, the after-effect of going to pubs every night, the fact that we're living out of suitcases and having to dine out for all our meals, and trekking it to Big Ben just hasn't seemed plausible yet. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Once I move in Sunday, I plan to get started seeing the sights and learning the city. Finding a flat in London was simple. By the first night here it seemed obvious which friends clicked, so getting roommates wasn't hard even though I didn't come over with any of my closest friends. On noon on Wednesday we contacted a highly-recommended landlord, fell in love with the first flat he showed us, checked out a few more places, and by 2 we were enjoying a celebratory lunch. Brilliant!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2336356679434901763-2649082894486595611?l=cegelston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/2649082894486595611'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/2649082894486595611'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cegelston.blogspot.com/2009/09/first-impressions.html' title='first impressions'/><author><name>Courtney</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2336356679434901763.post-2060069302974996343</id><published>2009-09-04T09:24:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-04T10:54:35.942-04:00</updated><title type='text'>planes, trains, and automobiles</title><content type='html'>Deciding to go to London was easy. Getting here was not. Apart from all the preliminary things, like getting my passport and visa and tickets, there was the basic issue of getting to the airport. We drove to the bus station, I took a bus from Albany to New York, had to walk (with all my luggage!!) to a different station, wait, take a bus to Newark- only to find out that it wasn't going to the airport, just Newark. From there I walked around for awhile (still carrying the luggage) until I realized where I was, got a cab, made it to the airport, and waited over four hours to get on the plane. My arms ached halfway through the day. The flight was long and the crowded seats made it hard for me to sleep, so as excited as I was to get here, I nodded off a bit on the bus ride to the hotel- missing my first sights of London. Luckily, my first few British hours aren't characteristic of the trip. After a nap and shower, we were having an orientation dinner and discovering the pubs. Cheers!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2336356679434901763-2060069302974996343?l=cegelston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/2060069302974996343'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/2060069302974996343'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cegelston.blogspot.com/2009/09/planes-trains-and-automobiles.html' title='planes, trains, and automobiles'/><author><name>Courtney</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2336356679434901763.post-1824250451454326591</id><published>2009-08-25T18:58:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-25T19:02:47.682-04:00</updated><title type='text'>SUCCESS</title><content type='html'>This just in: I am wonder woman. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Everything fits! I have even managed to pack my winter coat! All the things in my "maybe" pile have now been upgraded to "packed" and, amazingly, I have room left over and 20 pounds to go before I reach the weight limit! Space bags are the eighth world wonder.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2336356679434901763-1824250451454326591?l=cegelston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/1824250451454326591'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/1824250451454326591'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cegelston.blogspot.com/2009/08/success.html' title='SUCCESS'/><author><name>Courtney</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2336356679434901763.post-4306897443753064406</id><published>2009-08-25T17:53:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-25T17:55:07.593-04:00</updated><title type='text'>packing, continued.</title><content type='html'>Preparing to leave for London is like trying to sprint a marathon. It's a million different things all at once. It's to-do lists, to-pack lists, to-remember lists that never end. It's five different notebooks of reminders. For two days, I've had the feeling you get when you drink too much coffee in a short period of time and then everything you do happens in rapid, uncoordinated movements. I buzz. There are things to buy, things to clean, and obviously things to pack. On top of this, there are also goodbyes to be said and precious leisure time to be had with people I won't see for months. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;With just a few days left to go before the big send-off, I'm finally starting to accomplish things. My bags are nearly packed and most my errands have been finished. Bit by bit, I'm crossing things off the list. My plane ticket came in, my visa had been issued, and my passport returned. If all else fails, come Monday morning I will still have the basic things I need to start this European excursion. That's good enough for me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2336356679434901763-4306897443753064406?l=cegelston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/4306897443753064406'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/4306897443753064406'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cegelston.blogspot.com/2009/08/packing-continued.html' title='packing, continued.'/><author><name>Courtney</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2336356679434901763.post-4966421624303362149</id><published>2009-08-23T17:27:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-25T17:53:02.436-04:00</updated><title type='text'>packing, part 1</title><content type='html'>Today I made my first attempt to pack. It failed. Before I walked into the guest bedroom where I've been keeping all my things for a week, I felt pretty confident that packing would be a breeze. After all, I left most of my belongings and clothing in Syracuse so I wouldn't need to worry about sorting through &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;everything&lt;/span&gt;. Two main problems gave me false confidence that I could pack quickly: 1) I didn't realize just how much I brought home, and more importantly 2) I didn't realize just how little fits in two suitcases. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Packing part 1 unfolded like this: I walked into the room, really looked at the heaps and mounds of things piled in there, turned around, left, and shut the door tight behind me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;There's always tomorrow.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2336356679434901763-4966421624303362149?l=cegelston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/4966421624303362149'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/4966421624303362149'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cegelston.blogspot.com/2009/08/packing-part-1.html' title='packing, part 1'/><author><name>Courtney</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2336356679434901763.post-2536868741970737445</id><published>2009-08-19T17:58:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-25T18:18:00.061-04:00</updated><title type='text'>family togetherness</title><content type='html'>My family is one of the rare kinds that actually really all likes each other. Everyone says, "love you," when we talk on the phone, we still eat family meals together, and not a day goes by that I don't at least call a family member. So the thought of me moving to a different country for several months is a shock to the system for us all. Add to this shock the fact that I chose not to live at home this summer, and I'm surprised my Dad hasn't suffered cardiac arrest.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;That being said, my family decided to plan bonding activities during the two week stretch of time I'm home this summer. Last night's activity (my idea!) was a picnic dinner and outdoor concert tickets at the lovely Saratoga Performing Arts Center- one of my favorite places in New York. Sure maybe the Allman Brothers Band with the Doobie Brothers doesn't draw the most family-friendly crowd, but it's something we all enjoy.  Or it would have been, if it didn't downpour rain.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_S5FR8ZSGvoQ/SpRhm8KKCkI/AAAAAAAAAEc/lDjc1KkE7MA/s400/232323232%7Ffp432%3B%3B%3Enu%3D323%3B%3E673%3E-3-%3EWSNRCG%3D32769-4466324nu0mrj.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374027576971496002" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Just as the Doobie Brothers started warming up the crowd, the sky opened up and the blackest clouds I've ever seen dropped buckets of rain on our umbrella-less, raincoat-less, uncovered group. We wound up using my Grandmother's homemade quilt (previously our picnic blanket) as a tent (see above: dad, sister, and my legs). People were sliding through the mud and more than one mud wrestling fight broke out. Even though we left early, the memory of it- just like the mud stain in Grandma's quilt- is one we won't be getting rid of for awhile.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2336356679434901763-2536868741970737445?l=cegelston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/2536868741970737445'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/2536868741970737445'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cegelston.blogspot.com/2009/08/family-togetherness.html' title='family togetherness'/><author><name>Courtney</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_S5FR8ZSGvoQ/SpRhm8KKCkI/AAAAAAAAAEc/lDjc1KkE7MA/s72-c/232323232%7Ffp432%3B%3B%3Enu%3D323%3B%3E673%3E-3-%3EWSNRCG%3D32769-4466324nu0mrj.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2336356679434901763.post-9120314192717229248</id><published>2009-08-04T23:08:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-04T23:23:19.252-04:00</updated><title type='text'>side note</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;I like all sorts of books, but especially ones that are known for being good. I like to read the books everyone's heard of and knows they're supposed to read, and I'm (slowly) making my way through Time's Top 100. So for three or four lovely hours this afternoon, during some unexpected time off, I finally read outside on the grassy Syracuse quad. And I lay like this, stretching out under the hot August sun, hoping to tan my body, which, having spent the summer working 7am-7pm, has little to show for itself during these months of "freedom" except a mild caffeine addiction. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In the early pages of On the Road, I came across some lines that really resonated with me, reminding me of late college nights spent exploring with new friends, on the other side of town, where I'm not familiar with the street names or faces:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; "&gt;"I shambled after as usual as I've been doing all my life after people that interest me, because the only people that interest me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones that never yawn or say a commonplace thing... but burn, burn like roman candles across the night."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In typical side note fashion, this post has no relevance to my upcoming trip to Europe- but good writing is something that sticks with you, and should be shared with others. Enjoy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2336356679434901763-9120314192717229248?l=cegelston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/9120314192717229248'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/9120314192717229248'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cegelston.blogspot.com/2009/08/side-note.html' title='side note'/><author><name>Courtney</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2336356679434901763.post-4332908175989345395</id><published>2009-07-31T09:39:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-31T09:48:03.356-04:00</updated><title type='text'>ONE MONTH!</title><content type='html'>London is now officially only one month away! I don't have money, all my roommates, a place to live, my passport, my visa... or any worries. My plane ticket's booked, my classes are scheduled, and my hopes are high. A month from now, I'll start my European exploration. Until then, I'll just watch movies starring Hugh Grant (and work on fixing the money/visa/passport issue).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2336356679434901763-4332908175989345395?l=cegelston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/4332908175989345395'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2336356679434901763/posts/default/4332908175989345395'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cegelston.blogspot.com/2009/07/one-month.html' title='ONE MONTH!'/><author><name>Courtney</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry></feed>
