London

I am sad to say that I am now a month into the second term which only leaves me with a few months left in England.  The days have really seemed to fly by this semester (maybe because I am hardly enrolled in any classes here...)  But last weekend I celebrated being back for a full month in the amazing city of London.  However, my trips to London are sometimes not necessarily the most exciting trips for me.  Not that I don't like the other people on the Kenyon-Exeter program because I really have made some long lasting friendships, but when the entire group travels together, things gets a bit weird.  And it's not like I have a particular story to share about anyone, it's just that I am very different from the rest of the kids in my group.  It's not like I think that poetry is a load of crap, but I also don't sit around reading and writing poetry as my fun activity for the day which most of this group would definitely chose to do over shopping.  And good for them.  They will end being well rounded individuals someday, but so will I.  It's just a personally preference, and of course, I do respect their love and desire for poetry, but sometimes I do feel a bit of an outsider wanting to go out at night or shopping during the day rather than drinking tea and writing poetry.  But that's just my opinion.  

So rather than sit around and watch the time pass, my friends and I got up, rode on a train into London, and did not waste one second upon arriving.

After checking into our hotel, my friends and I took the tube to South Kensington and from there, we walked around the gardens, ponds, and of course, hunted down the statue of Peter Pan.  As a child I loved Peter Pan, and as a twenty one year old child, I still love Peter Pan.  As you can see, I can relate to his want to stay in adolescence and never grow up.  Many people criticize Peter Pan, saying that he is disrupting the circle of life by staying the same.  But you better believe that if I were to ever find Neverland, I would stay there too...well, only if I find it before I hit my 40's.  Once I'm in my 40's, I might as well stick to the annual birthdays.  Anyways, although Peter Pan was hard to find, we searched him down and found the statue.

To my surprise, Peter Pan himself was quite small.  However, the statue was incredible...fairies and mermaids were carved in surrounding Peter.

After the photo-op with Peter Pan, we walked around Kensington gardens toward Kensington Palace to go to a special Princess Exhibit.  

I loved walking around Kensington.  It all seemed so classy and before even getting to the palace, I felt the sense that royalty would love to live in a place like this.  Everything, even just the rails around the pond were so old and beautiful, rich with history.  

And we finally made it to the palace!  Now, I wasn't quite sure what to expect because it was my friend who had heard about the exhibit and I just followed her there because it seemed like it would be fun.  As soon as I bought my ticket and was given a brochure, I was ecstatic to find out that it was an exhibit on the seven princesses that once lived in Kensington Palace, the latest being Princess Diana.  Not only was the exhibit beautiful and charming, but the exhibit was set up to be creepy and eerie which made it all the better for me!  

First off, there was a throne to sit on called 'the seat of power'.  It was awesome.  There were two hidden microphones on the sides of "the candles" and when you spoke into them, they would echo across the palace.  Rather than speak my wish in the microphone (which it said to do), I creepily and secretly whispered my friends names into the side of the candles to scare them a little.  However, they weren't fooled by my deep tone off voice and knew that it was me whispering their names rather than a ghost.  It was worth a shot.  

Each room in the castle had something different to represent each of the seven princess' while giving off a haunting mood for all to see.  

For example, this room was named "the room of war and play", representing Princess Charlotte. 

"The room of lost childhood" - Princess Margaret.  

I can't remember the name of this room, but this was my all time favorite!  Very creepy, but also so artistic.  I felt as though I were in the story of Alice in Wonderland....except starring me and in a castle, no vortex necessary.  This room represented Princess Victoria.  

And then the last room, also very creepy, was a room that collaborated all of the Princess' together.  Rather than feel like Alice in Wonderland, this room felt more like Hansel and Grettel, as though I were lost in the woods.  Each one of the Pincess' had their gowns hanging within a glass encasement.  And these dresses were beautiful.  Everyone says how bad the life of a Princess is, but after seeing those gowns and that palace, I couldn't find any complaints.  I actually think that in my earlier life, I was a Princess because walking around the palace, I felt right at home (and I could picture myself living there in a huge canopy bed).   

And you can't go to a palace and do the whole "princess thing" without a little 'mirror, mirror, on the wall...'

Oh, I also forgot to mention my date with who other than Prince Harry.  We met, we talked, we laughed.  He even came back from London with me and is on my wall right now. 

After a great day of royalty, we had to meet up with the rest of the Kenyon-Exeter group to see the show, Greenland, in London's National Theatre.  Although the show did raise some very important issues on the environment and how the human race is slowly killing itself, I felt as though I were sitting in my high school environmental science course, except even that was more interesting.  Now, I have to admit, I dozed off a couple of times and those who know me well know that I am NOT a sleeper, especially while going to the theatre.  And I was sitting front row, center.  So how did I fell asleep?  I don't know.  But I was abruptly awoken when about 300 empty, plastic water bottles came crashing onto the stage floor. 

Now that was another problem I had with the show.  300 water bottle wasted.  They had it raining on stage.  Hundreds of buckets of water wasted.  They had many strobe lights.  Too many watts of electricity wasted.  And for what?  To tell the audience to stop using fossil fuels, to turn off water, and to turn off the lights, but that it's okay to waste if you are performing a show?  What kind of message is that?  Too contradictory for my liking and any play that puts me to sleep while I'm sitting first row center will definitely put many others to sleep, like my father for instance.  He fell asleep during Godzilla and I guarantee you, this would be a 14 pound power nap for him too.  

After the show I asked my other classmates how they liked it and what they thought.  "Beautiful", "astonishing", and "amazing" were not words that I was expecting to hear about this play, but my fellow classmates for some odd reason could not stop raving about what I thought was a piece of junk theatre show....no pun intended.  

But then I remembered...these were the poetry lovers that I was talking to so of course they would find, and I quote "a deep connection with their soul within this play".  I did hold back my eye roll in respect for their taste, but in my opinion, the show was one that I could have missed out on.

And don't get me wrong.  WE NEED TO CLEAN UP OUR PLANET and I am a big supporter in all environmental movements.  I believe that global warming is going to kill off the human race down the line and I do everyday things to do my part in cleaning up.  After I took environmental science in high school I made my dad run to the store and replace all of our light bulbs with the energy saving ones.  I always fully unplug chords from the wall because even if you don't have you cell phone charging, but the charger is plugged in, electricity is being wasted.  UNPLUG everything you are not using.  And if I knew how to ride a bike, I would do that instead of drive.  But, since my horrible bike incident in the third grade, I have decided that all of the riding I will be doing is on a stationary bike in the gym...

But moral of the story, all of the "I love poetry" people loved the show Greenland.  So if you love poetry and think that your spirit can connect to a scripted play, then you should go ahead and see it.  But if you are not so into poetic connections and like things that are not in bad taste, skip this play and go watch Godzilla with my dad.  

The next day my friend and I woke up early to fit in as much as possible.  And with not much time left in England, I wanted to make sure that I visited the Tower of London, for no other reason than IT IS HAUNTED!  And as I mentioned in a previous post, I leave creepy things and I have been haunted by a ghost, several times.  Just last year my roommate and I had a ghost problem in our room that seemed to persist all year.  I don't want to get into it too much, but one night when we were going to sleep, my roommate, Liz, turned off the lights and went back into her bed.  As soon as the lights went out, she turned them back on, telling me that there was something written on the ceiling above her bed in glow in the dark paint.  Not believing her, I stood on a chair to get closer to the writing and had her turn off the lights.  Sure enough there was something written on the ceiling, and yes, it was from a ghost.  In all caps, the word DIE had been written on our ceiling in glow in the dark paint.  The word hadn't been there before, and thinking it was just one of our neighbors who had written that (our neighbors from last year really hated us), we went to bed.  

A few weeks later Liz and I were studying in the Kenyon Athletic Center and heard a spaceship overhead.  Fearing for our lives, we were surprised that no one else heard such a noise.  The only possibility, our ghost was haunting us.  A few weeks later I had just gotten back to our empty room after showering.  Brushing out my newly washed hair, Liz's tea kettle started going off.  Knowing that she was not in the room and that her hot water maker was not plugged in, I threw my hair brush down and sprinted out of my room in only a towel.  Knowing that Liz wouldn't be back for a while because she was in the middle of class, I decided to stay in the hall and wait for Liz.  I did not dare go back in that room alone.  One of my neighbors found me and after telling her why I was standing in the hallway in just a towel, she said that she would open the door for me and go into my room to make sure there was no ghost.  Now, I know she was skeptical and didn't actually believe my story.  But as soon as she opened the door, she started screaming bloody murder.  Once she finally calmed down, she told me that as she opened the door, she felt someone walk past her...my ghost!  After that, she was a full believer and at night, stayed clear of my room.  Now, those are just a few stories about being haunted because I don't want this entire blog post to be about my Kenyon ghost.  But let's just say that my favorite movie being The Exorcist and having my own ghost haunt me on a regular basis, I couldn't wait to enter the most haunted castle in London...The Tower of London...

Enter...if you dare...

The Tower of London is by far the prettiest castle I have ever seen and was one of my favorite activities for the weekend.  Just walking up to it, I was in awe of its beauty and even more excited knowing that ghosts would be looming around the courtyard.  

Now, this is a castle I can really see myself living in...or maybe I used to in my past life and the dead version of me is haunting the grounds this very second...But probably not.  And I am sad to report back that while I was visiting the Tower of London, I did not have any interactions with the supernatural spirits of the dead.  However, I did hear a lot of stories though, the main one, being the story of the princes' who disappeared within the castle.  I forgot who was King at the time (it may have been King Edward III or something), but whoever held the crown, died suddenly which left his oldest son (age 11) to take the throne.  Before the son was crowned King, the Uncle and deceased King's brother, called for both of his nephews (the one who was about to be crowned - age 11, and his younger brother - age 9) to stay with him for a few days in the Tower of London.  The two princes' were last seen by a servant, playing in the courtyard of the castle.  Men and servants searched for the boys, but it was as if they had disappeared within thin air.  But this was convenient for their uncle.  Since both boys had disappeared, he was crowned King instead.  

Years and years later, after their uncle had died, two male bodies (and dog skeleton) were found as what is now called the Bloody Tower.  Some people think that the bodies belong to the princes', because after all, the age of the bodies were equivalent to as old as they would have been.  But some say that those bodies were just two random people and that the princes' have still yet to be found.  The two bodies that were found were buried immediately and to this day, we still don't know for sure whose bodies they are unless we do a DNA test.  However, the English scientists believe that it is better to leave it as a mystery and have the individual believe what they want.  Either way, murder or disappearance, the boys run around the castle as if it is still their own, haunting the castle visitors.  At night, the castle closes to the tourists, and different flats can be rented out as a hotel room.  Not too long ago it was reported that a man had rented out a flat with his two sons on the first floor.  He kept hearing lots of noise and laughter from the floor above.  Assuming it was his own boys, he called to them to get back to the first floor because they were not allowed to be on the second floor.  But right after shouting to them, his two boys appeared in the doorway saying that they had been on the first floor reading quietly the entire time and hadn't heard any noise...

There is a chapel within the castle which can be rented out as a wedding venue.  After a photographer developed the pictures from what he thought was a nice ceremony, he realized that the bride and groom were not the only two on the alter.  Every picture in the chapel had different orbits of light and blurriness within the shot.  

The Bloody Tower is ironically named because even though it served as the death place for the two male bodies and a canine, there was never a trace of blood.  Most say that the two men (either being the princes' or just random people) were smothered to death, leaving no real evidence of a crime.

Here I am standing underneath the Bloody Tower.

Tower Bridge in the background.

My friend and I were surprised to see how large Henry VIII really was.  This was just a replica of the actual armor her wore and let me tell you, the actual armor was about 3 times bigger.

There's the real deal Henry VIII.  Look at those thighs!!  He could have made a good softball catcher.

Even though the ghosts were all talk and no cigar, I do believe that the castle is really haunted.  Maybe next time I go I'll see a ghost, or maybe I can even talk my parents into renting a room there for a night when they visit; then we will be sure to see the princes' who disappeared.  

All in all, I loved the Tower of London and highly recommend it for everyone, especially those who have been previously haunted.

After the Tower of London, we met up with the rest of the Kenyon-Exeter group at the Comedy Theatre to go see a matinee of The Children's Hour starring Kiera Knightly, Elisabeth Moss, Ellen Burstyn, and Carol Kane.  This show was much better than Greenland, although I couldn't stand Kiera Knightly mostly because her American accent sounded very British, and she did that weird chin/underbite thing that she does when she acts.  But the script was great, although it did remind me a lot of Atonement, mainly because Kiera Knightly starred in that too.  I definitely recommend this show for all to see, and unlike Greenland, The Children's Hour did not put me to sleep.  

After the show a few of my friends and I took the tube to the Victorian Albert Museum only to find out that it was closed.  That is the one thing about England.  At 4:30 or 5:00, all stores, super markets, and museums are closed.  I think it's absolutely ridiculous.  I mean, even my dentist stays open past 5:00.  And for the English, dentistry is a whole other subject.  

After walking around for a little, my friends and I went to go see another show, but this was on our own time apart from the rest of the Kenyon group.  One of my friends found the play, Penelope, based of off the Odyssey.  And because it's not even worth my time to write about, I won't.  I'll just put it plain and simple: it was bad.  

By time the show ended and we were back in our hotel, it was 10:15.  Although I was exhausted from such a big day, my friend and I still really wanted to go hit the town just for a short while because earlier last week, I had heard about a very interesting bar in central London.  After telling my friend about it and showing her pictures, she was in.  Because not only was this bar just a bar, but it was an ICE BAR!  Everything in this bar is made of ice.  Ice walls, ice counter, ice table, ice chairs, and of course, ice glasses!  It looked awesome and right when I heard about it, I knew I wanted to be apart of it.  

But because we were so exhausted and it was already 10:15, we told ourselves that we would only go to this ice bar if we were to come back early because they next morning, we had to be up by seven.  Since the tubes close at midnight, we decided that we would leave a little before then so we could get a good nights sleep and so that we wouldn't have to pay for an outrageous taxi rides since we both had oyster cards for the tube.  But once we got to the Russell Square tube station, my friend realized that she had forgotten money and all forms of ID.  She rushed back to the room and we caught the next tube to Oxford Circus.  

As we approached the entrance into the bar, the bouncer asked which bar we were here for.  I told him the ice bar, (not the regular everyday bar), but to my surprise, he asked me if we had reservations.  Reservations?  To a bar?  No I didn't make any sticken' reservations.  I never even knew that I had to.  

He allowed us entry into the regular, boring bar instead of the fun and exciting ice bar.  But I didn't haul myself out on the brink of exhaustion just to come to some everyday bar.  I wanted the ice bar and I was not going to take "no" for an answer.  

And then I knew what to do.  Telling my friend to follow my lead, I walked over to a different guy sitting behind a desk in the entrance to the ice bar.  Quickly shaking off my jacket in order to look my best to talk my way in, I started the conversation with questions.  

"Hi.  We are really interested in going into the ice bar.  How much is the entry fee?"

-"The entry is 12 pounds and 50 pents.  But you have to make a reservation like two weeks before."

Now, for most of you, especially my parents, 12 pounds may seem like a lot for an entry into a bar.  But for those people that think that's a lot of money, I don't think you realize how cool the ice bar really is.  (No pun intended.)  12 pounds is totally worth being freezing cold and drinking out of ice cups.  I guarantee you that if my mom was my age she would have definitely been chilling in the ice bar for 12 pounds as well.  (And yes, chilling in the ice bar is an intended pun.)

But since it seemed like this guy wasn't going to let me get into the ice bar either, I had to think up a new way of getting in.  

"Oh, wow.  Really?  We didn't know that you had to make reservations weeks before.  See, we would do that, but we're vacationing here until tomorrow and we really wanted to go to the ice bar before we head back to America," I lied.  

-"I'm sorry, but we can only allow a certain number of people in at a time and it's full to capacity."

But that wasn't going to stop me.  I wouldn't say that I am a lier, I would just say that I can be persuasive while I'm in the pursuit of what I want.  So rather than back down, I looked him straight in the eye and told him that I just saw two people walk out and that my friend and I will take their spots.  I then gave his arm a little squeeze for extra emphasis.  

And to my delight, it worked!  He let us into the ice bar (he still made us pay), but I couldn't have been any happier.  He quickly threw big, puffy eskimo coats over our heads, and we were in.  And it was AMAZING.  I had never been so happy to be so cold.  

There I am sitting on an ice seat, holding my ice cup, leaning against an ice wall.

And of course, you gotta get a human-ice cut out photo.  

After a great success, we made it back before midnight in order to catch our tube (I felt like Cinderella).  And the next day began very early in the morning.  The Kenyon-Exeter program was hosting an optional trip to Hampton Court, and since it was on my list of things to do, I might as well have the program pay for my train ticket there.  And while waiting in the train station, I stumbled upon a little shop called Wellesley!  It made me feel right at home since, well, that is where my home is.  

Shout out to Wellesley Avenue and all of my neighbors!  Woot, woot!  I'm always representin' our street. 

And after a 30 minute train ride, we made it to Hampton Court Palace.  And again, I made myself right at home by taking the throne and laying down some laws.

I even found my future bed.  I have already informed my parents that we need to get our ceilings raised in order for this canopy to fit, and I think once they see the color, they will agree that it suites me well. 

Hampton Court Palace in the background.  

And we ended the day at Hampton Court Palace running around in the maze.  Thinking it would be lots of fun, I was thoroughly disappointed that there were signs that led the way throughout the maze...that kind of defeated the purpose in my opinion.  

With not a minute to spare in London, I would say that this past weekend was a successful trip.  Although there is still so much left to see in the city, I plan to be back in London sometime in April when my parents come to visit me and hopefully the Kenyon-Exeter Program will do another group trip (I only say this so that they will reimburse my train fare).  But out of all of my trips to London from this year, this past trip was without a doubt the best one.  

I have many more adventures to come and tomorrow I am taking off right after class to begin my journey to Espana!  It will be my third time going to Madrid and this time it will be very different because I will use my introductory Spanish while there!  That is something I did not attempt in the past.  So for now, hasta luego!  

AMSTERDAM - the city without rules.

You know the saying "What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas"?...Well, the same is to be said about Amsterdam.  What happens in Amsterdam, should definitely stay in Amsterdam.  So because I went to Amsterdam last weekend and because of my new rule and slogan, I regret to announce that I have nothing to report back on...Just kidding.  But because I have parents who actually parent (rather than try to be my best friend -- thank goodness, that would be weird), and because I am not sure I am allowed to upload some of my experiences and pictures online without being kicked off of my own blog, I have decided to edit my adventurous weekend in Amsterdam and make it appropriate for all ages...I think.
My trip to Amsterdam started at 5 in the morning.  I had to be at the train station by 6:15 am, and because I always like to get places early, I left my room by 5:30, walking from my flat into the pitch black morning.  As soon as I stepped outside, I was greeted by a windstorm.  After just curling my hair into perfect waves, I arrived at the train station with matted and static-stricken hair that looked as if someone had just rubbed a balloon over my head.  What a waste of 30 minutes the night before in creating the perfect curl.  Oh well.  And it's not like I didn't have options...I could have gotten a taxi to rescue me from the wind.  But after going over my European bank statements with my Mom over winter break, I decided to save the extra 5 pounds and spend it on something a little more important...food.
Once my train arrived into London, Paddington I hopped on the Heathrow Express train (which is more expensive than taking the tube), but my flight was so early in the morning, and in order to make it to Heathrow Terminal 4 in time, I had to spend a little extra.  A girl's got to do what a girl's got to do.
Arriving about an hour and a half before my flight, I browsed through the airport's Harrod's, and I actually found I really cute bag for sale.  But don't worry Mom, I resisted.  After browsing for about forty-five minutes, I went to check my gate number, only to find out that my flight was delayed an hour.  Usually, I would be mad.  But being delayed inside a terminal of a European airport is not the worst thing that could happen.  The shopping, I mean browsing, is just too good to get upset over.  And I don't mean to contradict myself either.  What happened in Heathrow in December is a totally different story from being delayed an hour to Amsterdam.  It's not like I was stranded for nights at a time and about to miss Christmas.  So there I was, delayed an extra hour to shop in Harrods.  Hard Life.
The flight to Amsterdam was only fifty minutes.  BUT THEY WERE THE SCARIEST FIFTY MINUTES I'VE HAD IN A LONG TIME.  Remember the wind that I mentioned earlier?  Well apparently, no matter how high you are flying in the sky, winds like that can almost bring down a plane.  And I'm being for real here.  I didn't think I was going to make it to Amsterdam.  Meanwhile, I had a gum-chewer sitting next to me.  And on that flight, I learned that with the more turbulence, the more unlikely a person is to close their mouth while chewing gum.  Now, I understand if you want to crack your gum and chew as loudly as you want, but ONLY and I mean ONLY, if you are in a room by yourself.  Once you are in public and sitting next to somebody (especially me), you BETTER keep your mouth shut while chewing, or you BETTER believe you will see lots of eye rolls coming your way (especially from me).  But luckily, the plane landed without being thrown to the ground, and the gum-chewer and I departed separate ways.
Even though my flight was delayed a little, my friend, Ari, wasn't getting in for another two hours.  But rather than shop/browse around the different stores within the terminal, I decided to sit on a bench and rest my nauseated body after a flight filled with turbulence.
When her plane landed I was feeling better.  We then proceeded to take the tram to our hotel only to find out that it was okay to smoke in the rooms, because well, we were in Amsterdam...the city without rules.  I was worried though.  I am not one to be able to breathe in a smoky room.  And now that we were in Amsterdam, what did a smoking room even mean?  Tobacco only?  Or was marijuana and crack-cocaine okay too?  What about needles?  Was shooting up heroin allowed in hotels?  Had the people who stayed in the room before us been smoking hash?  I was nervous.  And I knew that I had to expect everything because after all, I was not in England anymore.  
But thankfully our room was to my liking and not only did it not smell like smoke, but there was a fresh lemon scent to the air.  After walking around for a little and eating a plentiful dinner, Ari and I went back to the room to change into more appropriate outfits to explore the Amsterdam nightlife.  But before hitting the pubs, Ari and I decided to take a little walk down the Red Light District.  And for some reason, we didn't end up on the main drag, but happened upon many little ally-ways with red lights shining upon the almost naked prostitutes in the window.  Now, I don't know what I thought it was going to be like, but for some reason, I thought going to the red light district in Amsterdam and looking at the prostitutes would be a fun and exciting experience.  But it wasn't.  It was quite possibly one of the saddest things I have ever experienced.  Now I've experienced a lot of sad happenings for a twenty one year old kid.  I volunteered in a Children's Hospital for three years and took witness to dying children every week.  I went to Argentina and volunteered there for orphans and underprivileged children.  But walking into the red light district brought a type of sadness I don't think I had ever experienced before.  Seeing women actually trying to sell themselves in windows was both chilling and depressing.  And the guys watching the prostitutes through the windows were disgusting.  As I looked around at where I was, I noticed that Ari and I were the only girls in the ally-ways of the red light district who were not prostitutes.  And it's not like I felt in danger, I just felt sickened by the way these men would watch these girls to determine how much they would pay for 15 minutes of sex.  It was like these girls were puppies; the men scoping them out through a glass encasement, trying to bargain for their body.  But they weren't puppies.  They were real human beings, and for me, it was a sad sight.  I found it particularly off putting watching the police walk past the different hookers and check them out as if once their shift was over, they were going to go pay for their 15 minutes as well.  And an image that will never be able to leave my head: as soon as a man left one of the prostitutes "room" (obviously he had paid for his 15 minutes and it was now over), the prostitute reopened her curtain and started to dance in the window in hopes of attracting another dirty scum-bag from the side of the road, after just finishing up with her current skeeze.  Ari and I had never felt so lucky to be in school and to be walking in the red light district as tourists.  I have always been appreciative of my parents and the fact that I come from a loving family and have great community to fall back on.  All the times my parents were hard on me, I knew it was for a purpose, and after witnessing women selling themselves in glass cages as if they were locked up in a puppy store, I had never been so grateful for my parents pushing me to be my best.  Seeing the prostitutes and knowing that it is legal in Amsterdam and that the police walk the ally-ways to pick out their girls for later in the night, I had stepped out of my safety bubble, and my eyes were opened into a world which I never knew existed.  And don't get me wrong, I knew that the red light district technically existed, but when seeing it firsthand, it was very different from hearing about it.  It became real.  And not the good kind of real.

The windows behind me have their curtains closed.  That means that a man has paid for his 15 minutes with the prostitute.  Also, I was surprised to see the physical appearance of these hookers.  Some of them were young and in good shape, but the majority were older women who had not worked out in quite some time.  It saddened me to think how long they have worked as prostitutes in the red light district.  

The main part of the red light district - not the ally-ways Ari and I first walked down.  If you look closely, there are half naked women in the red windows of this photo.  This was also a shocking scene for me because there are families that walk up and down this street (this is the street looking onto the canal).  I wondered if the kids who grow up there think it's weird to see prostitutes on a regular basis.  Ari and I also met a few other Americans that told us they took a picture of a prostitute in the window of the red light district and she got so mad she came out of her "room" and started screaming at them.

  After a full night out on the town, Ari and I woke up early the next morning to fit in a whole day of sightseeing.  And our first stop was Anne Frank's house.  Excited to see where Anne Frank spent her time hiding, I was disappointed to learn that her house/bedroom, was a recreation, not the actual thing.  Apparently it's not even the same building, it's a remodeled version of the original.  With over an hour wait to get in, Ari and I left Anne Frank's house and went straight to the I AMSTERDAM sign.  Now, everyone who goes to the I AMSTERDAM sign always takes lots of pictures of themselves climbing the letters and dangling from the top.  But unfortunately, the one weekend that the front of the letters were blocked off, was the weekend that we were in Amsterdam.  But rather than let that get our spirits down, we stayed positive and took the pictures anyway...except the letters were all backwards.  So even though the front was barricaded, I still climbed into the letters and took the ultimate Amsterdam tourist photos.  

And after our photo-shoot at the I AMSTERDAM sign, we went to the Van Gogh Museum.  The Museum was amazing, and never before had I been surrounded by so many beautiful Van Gogh's.  

Another tid-bit about Amsterdam: Amsterdam is also known as the city of diamonds.  And I LOVE diamonds, because after all, diamonds are a girl's best friend.  So when walking to our next destination (the Heineken Factory), Ari and I stumbled upon the Diamond Exhibit, and Ari being the stylish girl she is, loved looking at the diamonds as much as I did.  

After "oohing" and "aahhing" over the magnificent jewelry, we decided to take the stereotypical picture in front of Amsterdam's beautiful canal.

But what I found to be the hardest adjustment while vacationing in Amsterdam, were the bicycle riders.  THERE WERE THOUSANDS OF THEM.  With all of the cars going in the right direction on the road, I still found walking around Amsterdam more difficult than walking around any city in England.  Not only did I have to keep out on alert for all of the cyclists, but they made me quite jumpy.  

I always think it's very dangerous when I see a parent place their baby in a little seat on the back of their bike and then ride as if they are hauling around a backpack.  But in Amsterdam, rather than put their babies in a little seat with a helmet, the parents would literally put their babies on the front handle bars and peddle as if all were normal!  

Not normal.  Some of the babies were to young to even support themselves sitting up so their parents would literally, not figuratively, but literally, ride with one hand holding up their baby's head, and the other steering through traffic and pedestrians.  If you ask me, that's illegal, but since I was in Amsterdam, it was the norm AND most definitely legal to ride your bike with your teeny, little baby sitting against the handle bars!!! And no helmets!    

Look at all of those bikes!!!!  Imagine them filled with babies on the handle bars!  So scary!

Although I didn't approve of the bike scene in the city, I did rock some Amsterdam bicycle sunglasses!

Another one of my favorite parts about Amsterdam, or I guess Holland in general, was their love of clogs.  Clogs were everywhere!  I almost bought a pair, but Ari helped me realize that for over 20 Euro, it was a waste since I would never be able to wear my wooden clogs out, especially not to parties.  Agreeing with such logic, I bought a little pair of clog magnets instead, and to tell you the truth, those were expensive enough.  Although I do have a picture of me wearing giant clogs, I still do kind of wish I could have brought home a pair of oversized wooden shoes.  But for now, this picture will have to do.

Look at how happy I look in these giant clogs!

And then I found a clog car!  Trade in the BMW, and get me a clog!  This is what I am going to get my future children for their 16th birthday!  Representin' Amsterdam!!!

And after all of the happiness over the clogs, we finally made it to the Heineken Factory which was cool not because I am at all a beer drinker, but because Heineken originated there and it was interesting to learn its history.  

As I said before, what happens in Amsterdam, stays in Amsterdam.  But because we finished our day with an interesting and somewhat shocking museum, I have decided to write about it, but only to a minimum because this is a blog....not a porn site...

For our last activity of the day, we went to what other than the Sex Museum.  Now to be perfectly honest, I couldn't have been happier that I was with a friend on this trip and NOT with my parents.  That would have been real awkward, real fast.  There were some intense stuff in this museum, some that I can't name (I'm keeping my blog PG), and some stuff that I wouldn't even how to name.  But I thought that since I was in Amsterdam, I should take it all in and explore such a place.  Also, I believe that every Kinsey needs to get in touch with their inner Alfred....

Here are some pictures (the appropriate ones):

When you walked past the butt with the eyes, smoke came out of the butt and the left eye would wink as you passed by.  The first time I walked up the stairs it scared me to death (I was not expecting the smoke to shoot in my face), but the second time I walked by I winked back...natural reaction.  

And later that night we walked around the streets of Amsterdam.  These pictures will give you more of a sense of what a regular stroll in the city is like.

And then, Ari and I went on a pub crawl for our final night in Amsterdam!  We ended up meeting a lot of other American students studying abroad all over Europe for their Junior year.  I even bumped into an Exeter group on our pub crawl!  Small world...especially in Europe.  

In our last and final pub on the crawl (it was more of a disco-dance pub), Ari and I took a seat at one of the tables only to find an older lady passed out next to us.  Amsterdam is truly a strange city...

But after a great weekend in a crazy city, it was time for us to head our separate ways: I was back off to England, and Ari was back off to Florence.  

Even though I did have an amazing and unforgettable weekend, I am truly glad that I did not chose to study abroad there.  Not like I ever thought of studying abroad in Amsterdam, but I couldn't be any happier with my choice in England.  For all of you who are studying abroad or are deciding on studying abroad, or just want to vacation in Europe, go to Amsterdam and see the sights!  But for me (as I hope it is for many others), one weekend in Amsterdam is enough to last a lifetime.