Trolleyed.

Trolleyed (adj.) - Drunk.  I was told that adding "ed" to any noun means drunk.  I never tested out that information.  "Oh,  I drank too much... I was so trolleyed last night!"

KIPLIN HALL TRIP 2013

There is an eerily similar feeling tingling down my spine, a feeling once experienced about nine months ago on the eve of my departure from the US of A.  This trip is a bit different, but no less exciting by any means.  I've been wanting to go on this trip since I heard about it in the Fall of 2010, a wide-eyed wee bambino fresher in Dr. Gillin's English 101 class.  Since then, I've taken his History of English Literature I class and his Romanticism class (my favorite!).  I will take his 19th Century Novel class next fall, and he also will be my thesis advisor next year.  So, to say it simply, I am a fan.  I have heard nothing but great things from this program (words that quickly come to mind are challenging, life-changing, fun, incredible, etc.).  

I never planned on going to Kiplin, which is a pretty strange thing to say.  I wanted to study abroad in England, so last summer, I was working to earn spending money for the duration of my stay.  Only Lord knows how many hours I spent hostessing at dear ol' Harry's Oyster Bar in Atlantic City.  I couldn't afford (literally) to lose three weeks out of the summer, plus I figured I would be going to England anyway in the fall.  But as the residual post study abroad feelings increased, the itch to travel increased simultaneously.

One day, probably in late February, my friend Claire was talking about getting her "Kiplin Hall info in," or something like that.  I'm fairly certain my response was an abrupt, "EEEEEK!" or an incomprehensible yell, coupled with a punch in the arm.  I had no idea that she was going.  "WHAT?!"  THEN Claire said (quite calmly, I might add), "Yeah, there are still spots available if you want to go."

I immediately emailed Dr. Gillin, and took one of the remaining spots available.  Yes, I drained my bank account, and yes, I have no regrets (even before the trip).  This might be indulgent to go twice in one year, but I figured if I were to go, I would want to go before I graduated so the credits would still count towards my major.  Also, a little indulgence every now and then never hurt anyone... right?  Mine just happens to be in the form of an academic course via trip to England.  

I just finished packing... it looks a bit different from when I had to pack for three months.  I'm now a fan of packing light (cue flashback to the nightmare of navigating through the London Underground with suitcases on suitcases on suitcases), so it wasn't too difficult.  

My next three weeks!

I read a quote the other day by Jack Kerouac that resonated with me.  I would type it out, but I just found this pretty picture instead:

...going to do just that.

Plaster.

Plaster (n.) - Bandaid.  I don't know why, but I found that one funny.

This day feels particularly English (rain coming down in sheets, reading Wuthering Heights for the thousandth time and STILL horribly irritated by its contents, listening to "Flaws" by Bastille on repeat), so I figured I would write about my upcoming English-y endeavors.
It's hard to believe - I mean it, difficult to grasp - that in a week, I'll be on a plane returning to the motherland.  Motherland to my country, not necessarily to me.

Reflecting on my time abroad, and as cliche as this sounds, it has truly become a part of me.  There isn't a day that goes by that something doesn't remind me of England - after all, I have a 3' x 5' Union Jack flag occupying my wall to behold daily.

I have a particular love for story-telling, a trait from both parents.  At the dinner table, it is almost impossible to finish a story before dinner is done, and whoever's telling the story (Yelling, "I'M TELLING THE STORY!" probably more than once, impersonating the disgruntled pirate from the first Pirates of the Caribbean movie), indubitably, has a cold meal.  Us Rosenbergs take FOREVER to tell a story, but if there's time, there's usually a good punchline or a laugh to be had in its conclusion.  I suppose I didn't notice it before, but lately, I've been consciously aware of the fact that most of my stories are connected to my abroad experience.  For example, it happened while I was working the other day.  I was fulfilling a stereotypically "intern" duty, stuffing the Summer Advising Day binders full of important information for the incoming freshmen -- yes, it was as exciting as it sounds.  Whilst working (and avoiding paper cuts), I put on the Disney Pandora station, singing along to "Under the Sea," "Zero to Hero," and other Disney classics.  Admittedly, there were embarrassing dance moves to accompany my off-key singing.  Somehow, listening to the Disney Pandora station sparked a DCOM (Disney Channel Original Movies) reminiscence between my fellow intern Kelly and I.  It reminded me of a time in England where Obella, Macauley, and I had particularly lazy days and watched a few DCOM movies in one sitting (it was probably the weather that brought on such lethargy).  Simple examples like this arise all the time -- I sometimes want to stop myself for fear of sounding too snobby or condescending , saying, "That time I studied abroad..." etc., etc.  Condescending about what, I'm not too sure.  I just never want to be "that guy."

Feeling such a way, that my study abroad experience is inherent in every day life, makes me want more.  I'm itching to travel, dream, and discover.  Because I am so blessed and fortunate, I'll be going on the Kiplin Hall trip soon, the great-return-to-England trip I mentioned earlier in this post.  I've heard nothing but amazing things about this trip from students who previously went to Kiplin Hall with Dr. Gillin, my favorite professor.  I cannot imagine a better academic setting.  I'll be following the footsteps of the great Romantics, hiking in the Lake District and other areas of Northern England.  I regretted returning to America without traveling up North (Royal Holloway was southwest of London), but this is my golden opportunity to do so -- I'll get four credits, it counts towards my major, it will help with my thesis, it's outdoors-y, heck, all of the above.

Life is good.


In the meantime, listen to the soundtrack of my study abroad experience, the fantastically beautiful Abbey Roads Studios production of "Flaws" by Bastille.  Not to sound like "that guy," but I actually went to Abbey Road Studios... ha ha ha.


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gzRBoZb3GKw

Fit.

Fit (adj.): Attractive; slang for "hot."  "She's so fit!"

I have no idea why I started to do this... but I did.  It happened.  I think it started as an accident, my hypersensitive camera clicking while I was walking.  I thought it looked pretty cool, so I continued taking pictures of my pink converses along with the different sites or cities I was visiting at the time.  It's funny to see the progression from perfectly clean to disgustingly dirty... those shoes have seen some days.

There were some days I had to wear different shoes due to inclement weather.  

"Oh, the places you'll go!"  ...or rather, my pink converses.  Have gone.

This was in the Dublin Castle, waiting in line.

The Windsor Castle + my shoe.

The Cliffs of Moher + my shoe.

The Dover Castle + the sub.

The entire city of Rome + my shoe.

The Spanish steps + my shoe.

The Trevi Fountain + my shoe.

Night Rome (The Vatican) + my shoe.

The Arch de Triomphe + my shoe.

The Pantheon + my shoe.

The Versailles Palace + my shoe.

I have no idea, in Rome, looks important + my shoe.

The Sacre Coeur + my shoe.

This was my first adventure in London.  I took this by accident. 

The Lift.

The lift (n.): elevator (That wasn't difficult).

Tips for traveling, most of which I have learned the hard way:

1.  Be in shape before you go seriously traveling.  Luckily I worked out during the summer before I studied abroad, so I didn't mind the extended periods of walking.  However, towards the end of the semester, it definitely took a toll when I went to Rome as my "last hoorah" trip.  You want to be able to see as much as you can, and being tired and grumpy takes away from your experience.

The grumpiest person alive.

2.  If you have previously arranged lodging before you travel to a city, KNOW THE ADDRESS TO THE HOTEL.  Believe it or not, when Macauley and I (and our friend Kevin) went to Rome, we flat out WINGED it.  We only knew we were staying at the Rome Cavalieri (luckily for us, it is well known).  However, it was a huge pain getting there, not knowing if we were getting screwed or not regarding the cost of transportation.  We also got into an unmarked taxi (oops?), but that's not the point I'm trying to make...

We found it eventually... LOOK AT THAT VIEW!

Strugglin' in the rain: "...WHAT DOES THAT SAY?"

3.  Understand what transportation you wish to take before you arrive in the city.  For example, when Macauley, Obella, and I went to Amsterdam, they have a weird tram/train system, that in my opinion, is a bit faulty.  Not to mention, it was hard to distinguish the names of stations from each other, all written in Dutch (...does that sound ignorant?).  As aforementioned, know the address of the hotel, and know the corresponding or nearby station/tram stop/etc.  

Peek-a-boo... it's my shoe!

3... a. Walk as much as you can.  In Rome, it was incredibly easy to walk all over the city, and the best part was, we stumbled upon so many interesting things en route to a big interesting thing.  For example (I'm full of examples!),  in Rome, when Kevin, Macauley, and I were strolling along to visit the Colosseum, we ran into the Pantheon!  It was incredibly breathtaking and awkwardly wedged between modern(er) Rome buildings.

...to be continued!  I just thought of a cool post idea.

HELLoooOOOOO!

HELLoooOOOOO! : I tried to create inflections of the English accent on how people say, "hello."  It's fantastic.

Currently, I am sitting comfortably (finally, happily, ecstatically) in America, in New Jersey, IN MY HOME.  There is no better feeling than bursting into a fully-decorated-for-Christmas Rosenberg house, the smells of mac and cheese oozing out of the kitchen (Mom mom's recipe... it's simply the BEST).  Yes, I realize I neglected this blog while abroad, but nay, I have not.  I've planned out many entries, but in order to post them with the perfectly accompanying pictures, I needed to download Macauley's pictures and my parents' pictures (Spoiler alert!  My parents visited me!)... a task that had to wait upon my return to the dear states.  

HOWEVER! 

Now that I have an ample amount of time, I've decided to treat this blog as a great winter break project.  Therefore, it will be done right, and it will be done well!

Stay tuned. :)

Hoover. Flu jab. Vest. Trousers.

Hoover (n.)- Vacuum.
Flu jab (n.)- Flu shot.
Vest (n.)- A "vest" is not a sleeveless sweater-y article of clothing/fancy waistcoat here... a "vest" is an undershirt.  Or a bro tank, if you will.  Or a tank top. It gets confusing, especially when talking about...
Trousers (n.)- Trousers are pants.  Pants are underwear.  Everything is topsy-turvy.

I can't believe I just said topsy-turvy.  

I'm avoiding writing my 1,000 word essay for my Shakespeare class.  I'm being absurd.  I've been avoiding it, having comfort in the fact that I can write a 1,000 word essay in my sleep, especially on anything that has to do with my man, Bill Shakey.  Yes, we are on nickname basis.  Anywho, I suppose I should start... I have a simply marvelous heading and title.  I'm acutely distracted by the high-ceilinged (Is that a word? It looks so strange) slightly gothic-styled library, overwhelmingly surrounded by shelves of books, books, and more books.  Mission:  Explore the restricted section and discover a book focusing on Nicholas Flamel.  Heeh.

Okay, I need to get out of here (here, meaning cyberspace).  

Au revoir!

Wellies.

Wellies (n.)- Short for Wellington(s).  Wellies are rain boots, and apparently, calling rain boots "rain boots" is an absurd notion to anyone British.

Here are some pictures.  Just because.

Captain Hilary, navigating on a lion (that I am definitely not supposed to be on).

Some truly lovely people, WAC4life.

The Eye.

Close up of Big Ben.

Proper.

Invasion of WAC!

There are probably between ten and fifteen WAC kids on the Royal Holloway campus, including the ones that already go here.  It is glorious! Students already studying abroad (one from Copenhagen, one from Cork, and one from Madrid) as well as students from the lovely state of Maryland (WAC has fall break right now) made the trek to good ol' Egham for the next few days.  Last night, we went to a place called Club Liquid in Windsor, a few towns over.  There was a bus that left from Founder's at 11:00 (it came at 11:30, which frankly increased anticipation and excitement) and returned at 3:00.  It was a LONG night, but S-Club 7 performed!  Unfortunately, it was S Club 3 (not too sure where the other four went), but it was still a grand time.  I decided that my Hello Kitty dress should make an appearance... it was quite the sight.  

I believe the plan is to go into London with the whole gang tomorrow night... that should be a wild time.  As for now, I have to read a significant amount (of Shakespeare and Medieval Epics) before I let myself have fun, haha.  As for now, cheers!

I still don't know if I use "cheers" correctly.  Oh, well!  

Massive.

It is October 11th, almost a whole month abroad already!  I cannot believe it.  My 21st birthday only nine days away, which means PARIS is only nine days away.  I'm already bracing myself for that weekend... it. Will. Be. A. TIME.



Before I continue with this blog post, I should probably explain what the post titles mean.  The post titles have nothing to do with the content; they are British slang/commonly used words that I have noticed are popular.  


Speaking of things I have noticed, here are some things I have noticed (Ha. Ha.) :


1.  Apparently, men wearing short shorts are a thing.  That took some getting used to.

2.  People work out in polo shirts.

3.  People work out in track swishy pants (I don't know how else to describe them other than the word "swishy"). 

4.  What you wear says a LOT about you.

5.  People in London are beautiful and intimidating and tall and thin.  Made me wildly self conscious.

6.  Americans are LOUD.

7.  There are different British accents, depending on whether a person if from the North, or the South, or London, or wherever.  So many different British accents.  And apparently my impersonation of a British accent is absolutely terrible.

8.  I think I scare most people with my loudness/outgoingness.  Oops?

9.  Everyone has a sense of style.  It's amazing.


Classes started October 1st, so for the first week on campus there were events and socials and whatnot. Here, they call it 'Fresher's Week.'  It was fantastic.  I've been hanging out with Washington College people (from now on I'll use the more affectionate term, WAC) primarily, but we made a fair amount of English fresher friends.  The hardest thing is making friends my age... the students who live on campus are freshers (17-18 year old kids).  I've been called "quite old" on numerous occasions.  HA.  I mean, I am almost 21, so it's just downhill from there...

Quite.

(I wrote this in a word document on September 25th).

Tour guide from Connolly farms... also my future husband.

I'm ashamed of myself that it took this long to finally write about my European endeavors thus far.  I honestly don't even know where to begin!
Right now, I am currently sitting in my dorm room, my temporary home for the next few months.  I live in 311 West Founder's... arguably a distant cousin of the Hogwarts building.  The building and grounds are breathtakingly beautiful; the architecture intricate and of a different world.  This is not knocking dear ol' Washington College at all, but the word "old" here has a strikingly different connotation.
Anyway.

The colorful doors of Dublin!

After staying in London for a few days (sightseeing a bit, drinking tea, ironically hanging out with more Americans), we left for Dublin on a RyanAir flight.  We stayed at the Abraham House (hostel) on Lower Gardiner Street, a walk away from anything worth while to do in Dublin.  I loved Dublin.  Six days and five nights might have been a tad excessive, but regardless, Macauley and I had such a memorable time.  We attempted frugality (as only college kids can), but did not sacrifice the Irish experience (translation: we ate dinners in Quizno's and hung out in pubs all night).  Since I'm not 21 yet, the whole "bar scene" is quite foreign to me.  I don't know how to casually strike up conversations with strangers (One would think that wouldn't be a problem for me, judging by my loud personality) in that setting, so the first few nights in the pubs we were observers more than anything else.  We noticed that we continually attracted middle aged men/couples, and met some fantastically nice people.  After a few nights out, we decided we refused to enter an establishment void of traditional Irish music, and eventually grew accustomed to the pub ways.  One particular night, we ran into everyone sleeping in our hostel room -- two other Americans and three Germans.  Serendipity!  The levels of English-speaking skills varied among the Germans, but we communicated through the language of DANCE!  Such a great night. 
One day, in the middle of the week, we decided to go to western Ireland to see the Cliffs of Moher on a tour.  I was told by authentic Irishmen that western Ireland was the "real" Ireland; I had to go there for the proper Irish experience.  We lucked out.  Sometimes, due to inclement weather, the Cliffs of Moher are impossible to see.  However, we had a clear enough day to behold the Cliffs of Moher in all its glory.  It was simply marvelous.  
I had to keep reminding myself... eventually, I would have to think and use my brain at Holloway.  So, waving goodbye to Dublin was equally a hello to academics once again.  I love the summertime, but I missed going to class.  I'm sure I'll eat my words soon, BUT!  Regardless, excitement squeezes my insides.  Here's to Holloway!  

Wild hair (oh, and the Cliffs of Moher).

Also I have no idea how to position the pictures, so it looks like there's no rhyme nor reason.  I think it gives the blog character.

Bloody (insert virtually any word here).

^Woops, is that a "bad" British slang?  I guess I'll find out soon enough...

SO.  The last twenty-four hours have been an absolute whirlwind.  
I had to say goodbye to my mommy yesterday morning before she left for work.  Ugh, I HATE goodbyes.  Yes, I cried a little... okay, you got me, I cried a lot.  I'm a mommy's girl!
Anyway.
I was flying out of Boston Logan airport with Macauley this morning, so my dad had to drive me up there (and back to New Jersey in one day... I felt so bad!).  Luckily, Mac and her mom were kind enough to meet us in Connecticut, which shaved off at least four hours from my dad's trip.  It wasn't too hard saying goodbye to my dad; of course I'll miss him, but we have more of an unspoken love/we're fellow goofballs sort of relationship.  He's not as gushy as I am as well.
I digress.
I slept (and by slept, I mean I was way too excited to sleep) at Macauley's for the night and we left quite early in the morning for our 8:55am flight.  Mac's only about a half an hour away from Logan, which isn't bad at all -- I'm used to the jumbo annoying Philadelphia International drive.  I was quite content, and overwhelmingly excited, in the back seat.
Besides our goofiness, we somehow kept it together and boarded the plane, adorned in "Phoebe and Kathy's Great Adventure!" t-shirts (courtesy of Mac's awesome sister).  Ask me who Phoebe and Kathy are?  I have no idea, which is the whole point.  We. Are. Hilarious.
The flight wasn't terrible.  Smooth flying, free food.  Mac and I had rows to ourselves... or should I say Princess Hilary and Princess Macauley.  I was slightly disappointed (I love meeting random strangers on airplanes... then again, this flight time was on the hefty side, so God forbid I meet a weirdie).  I slept well and read Tender is the Night (my writing skills esteem plummeting, for naturally, I compare them to Fitzgerald's).  He is a master of prose and his insight is frankly overwhelming.
Anywho.
Then the real adventure began.
Our final destination (thanks to Mr. Brooks, Dr. Awesome-Extraordinaire!) is the Waldorf Hilton, smack in the heart of London.  Gasp?!  Mr. Brooks is a platinumdiamondgoldjewelspricelessobjects member of Hilton, and bestowed his benevolence on us poor college kids (okay, okay... yes, he is Mac's dad, but still!  He didn't have to!)  He frequents Hiltons for his job, and paid for the room with extra Hilton points.  Mac and I (imagine: still in our one-of-a-kind bro tanks) barrel our way into a train with all of our (necessary) crap for the upcoming semester.  After about an hour on the Piccadilly line, which sounded like an up tempo jig, we arrived at Covent Garden stop, about four blocks from the Hilton.  We were each hauling our too-big luggage out of the train (I almost tripped, receiving points and laughs from not-so-innocent passerby) and onto the cobbled street.  What amazed me more than anything was the kindness of strangers to help us out.  At least eight people stopped us to either ask us if we needed help for directions, ask to assist us with our bags, and one even lugged my heaviest suitcase up a flight of stairs (he was also conveniently, and wildly, attractive).  YES.  We must have had a neon sign over our heads that shouted, "HELP ME! I'M AN AMERICAN!"
Unfortunately, we didn't get to explore the streets of London tonight, but judging by the short walk to the Hilton, I love it.  The buildings seem to lean over the cobble stoned streets, with welcome.  It was quite overwhelming, honestly-- the combined generosity of random strangers and general "classy but chill" aura of the surroundings was too much for me to take in.  
Alrighty, it's 9:07 according to my computer... which means, in reality, it's 2:07.  Whoops!  I have to get some rest before the real adventure begins!  I'll add pictures when I have better snapshots and more time. 
 Cheerio!

Blast.

I visited Washington College this past Thursday and Friday to say some last goodbyes.  I don't know what I was expecting, but it was a very odd sort of feeling.  A mix of feeling like I didn't belong (people had to go to class... using my brain is such a foreign concept to me so deep in the summertime) and feeling like there was nowhere I would rather be.  I'm heartbroken that I have to leave such wonderful people behind. 

Such a great night.  I'll miss you pookies!

Softball girls, all dressed up.

Love my AXO babies. 

I've never been without seeing my parents for more than a few weeks, probably something I have taken for granted repeatedly and without thought.  Now, the thought of not physically seeing my parents for an extended period of time is starting to freak me out.  I believe they are going to try to visit in early November (right around teacher's convention), thank goodness.  Tonight my mom cooked a traditional English meal (Yorshire pudding and all!), but decorated our already patriotic dining room in... America.  There's no other way to describe it!  She said (and I quote), "You're going to have such a fantastic time in England... but don't forget about America!"  Yeah, mom?  In that case, I'll put on my American flag bandana and Bruce Springsteen t-shirt to show my Amuuuurica pride.  

With Mom & Amelia!

Some British & American decorations... love for both, haha.

And drumrollllllllllllllll....

My incredible family.

Saying goodbye to these fine people will easily be the hardest goodbye of my life.  I'm trying to "keep calm and carry on."  We shall see this coming Thursday how "calm " I will be, haha.  

T-4 days! 











  

Cheers.

I went on a mad last-minute-stuff-buying rampage today.  I went to about eight different stores, confidently crossing the last items off my list.  My greatest purchases of the day, however, were not on my necessities list... but they were necessary.  Item #1:

If anyone was wondering... yes, that is a Hello Kitty decorated Union Jack dress.  I plan on wearing this with a recently bought American flag bandana to bring the outfit together.  (Talk about an identity crisis).

Items #2 and #3:

I don't think these need much explanation.  Mustache and Spongebob duct tape.  Why? The more important question... why not?

Enough blogging.  I have to pack!

Brilliant.

'Hilratio Rosenblower'...  If anyone catches this reference, huzzah!  Ten cool points for you.  For anyone (everyone) else who is wondering what on earth that means, it's from C.S. Forester's Horatio Hornblower.  So punny.  And English-y.

I realize I'm being a bit overzealous by creating this blog, as I sit rather comfortably in my family room, anxious, excited, skittish, scared... did I mention excited?  It is T-9 days until I embark on the most fabnomenal and fantastical journey of my 20-soon-to-be-21 year long life.  I hope to utilize this blog to record my upcoming European adventures, equipped with pictures, memories, and the whole nine yards.  I thought it would be useful to at least create this blog now, when I have a reasonable amount of lounge time before the journey across the pond.  I've tried keeping a blog before (ehh, an unsuccessful attempt... I'm more of a journal writing kind of girl), but this time I have a greater reason to keep up with it.  This blog is primarily for me, reducing the chance of forgetting anything that may happen, but anyone is more than welcome to read it. 

I will be studying abroad at the Royal Holloway campus (University of London) in Egham, Surrey for three months.  This will be my first time in England, first time on my own (officially... no parents a mere two-hour drive away), first time being financially independent, first time using public transportation by myself (I wish I were kidding)... it will be the first time for a lot of things.  

It's time to grow.  It's time to learn.  It's time to live.