Make the snow come back...

It is not supposed to be 60 degrees at the end of December. While I do not particularly like the cold, get it RIGHT, Mother Nature. There is supposed to be snow on the ground, not warm puddles.

Procrastination Nation

Happy Boxing Day, Everyone!

I haven't posted in over a month, so I figure that I ought to post before the end of the year, right?

...plus I can't get anything done. Like I physically cannot make myself do any work.

I have made at least eight billion pies since I got home, so that's productive. Of course, I can't eat eight billion pies, so now my fridge is filled with pumpkin and apple pies that are rapidly getting soggy and I don't think I can stomach any more pie.

I'm branching out tonight by making Crumb Berry Pie. You can only make so many pumpkin, apple, and banoffee pies until they get old. Then I was in the shower and looked down, and there was a recipe on my bottle of shower gel! Gotta love Philosophy 3-in-1 Shower Gels.

This is all fine and dandy, but you know what it's not? It's not writing my thesis. It's been over a week since I've written a word. Anyone want to write for me?

So I'm moping around the house, testing pie recipes and watching the first four seasons of Friends, which I got for Christmas. I need to write Chapter 2, get a haircut, apply to Oxford, and STOP MAKING PIES.

Otherwise pretty soon I will start looking like this:


*image courtesy of Priscilla's Old-Fashioned Two Crust Pies. Thanks, Priscilla. You have taught me an important lesson.

In related news, anyone around the Lynn area want a pie?

Signing off for now, to try to do work. Or make another pie. Last one, I swear.

Things that make me happy, things that don't.

Things that make me happy:

1) Crimson Callers

Isn't the design for the Olympic t-shirts cute? Yeah, I thought so too. You know what's awesome? Caller Idol. You know who missed it? Me. Boo.

2) LOL Manuscripts

Proof that I am not the only one who loves manuscripts.

3) NoiseBot

Their t-shirts are hilarious. Buy me one.

Things I don't like:

1) Thesis.

2) Mean people.

3) The cold.

4) The funky smell in my room's hallway.

GOBAMA!

I am still sitting in Lamont. Still trying to write my thesis/response papers. But OBAMA WON and there are people outside screaming and yelling and celebrating, people are driving down the street honking with glee. It's so exciting. And also....

INDIANA MIGHT BE A BLUE STATE THIS YEAR, GUYS!

I never thought I would see the day. Ever. But 96% of precincts are reporting and Obama is winning:

This is a better night than I expected. Now I'm going to go get coffee, and celebrate!

It's Election Day...

And I'm sitting in Lamont. Doing thesis stuff.

I wish I were at the Harvard Square Hotel right now, watching Election Results and drinking wine, but I'm not. Because I have procrastinated so much that I have to catch up all in one night. Boo, me. I'm a whore. Time-management-wise, anyway.

He wants a cookie, wants a cookie...

Good Morning!

Watch this:

Columbus Day never tasted so good...

Here's what Barry, Rachel and I were doing on Monday. Or rather what Barry was doing. Eating as many free apples as possible, and loving every moment of it.
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So it's been a month...

...since I last posted. Sorry.

For those who haven't been directly involved in my life (do people like that read my blog? I don't think so, but just for the benefit of the doubt, I'll pretend like they do...) there have been lots of things going on over here in Olivia World.

1) I directed a play. It was called Stop Kiss. There were lesbians. We got a really good review. Bascially the play was awesome.

2) I'm writing a thesis. It's about cross-dressing women. There are too many sources. But I have a really good idea for a title.

3) My room was broken into by a man wearing a red baseball cap. It was scary. But to get over it, we threw a party.

4) I started as a supervisor at Crimson Callers. I work really hard. You can tell, because I'm at work now and I am clearly really working very hard.

So that's basically what's been going on in my life over the last month. I mean, other stuff happened, but some of it you know about if you've been here, and if you don't know about it, this is probably the wrong forum through which to share it.

Now that the show is over, I really have to get cracking on my thesis. Unfortunately, reading is wayyyy easier than writing.

Mostly I just sit staring at the computer, hoping that it will write my thesis by itself. It hasn't been working very well so far. So I thought starting blogging again would CLEARLY help me start writing my thesis. Clearly.

Love you guys. Help me write my thesis.

It's been a while...

The beginning of the year is always this period of massive flux and uncertainty. I did not, however, expect the beginning of senior year to be such an emotional roller coaster and honestly, such a drain. So much has happened in the past week that I can't really think straight, and I've only spent two nights in my room. It's an interesting beginning.

I need to get back to writing on this blog because I realized how cathartic it was to write down what I was doing over the summer, and this year will be just as crazy a ride. So I am making the plan to do more of that. In the mean time, check out this video that Jen recommended. It is the craziest thing I think I've ever seen.

Oh, Harvard...

So I'm sitting in the basement of Kirkland, "working" as a storage monitor, reading and staing into space. I've been assigned to the ever-important B-entryway refrigerator room. It's pretty badass...

So I'm sitting here, pretending to read, when something green and shiny nestled among the fridges catches my eye. It's about two feet high, weirdly shaped and has two tube thingys sticking out of it. After closer inspection, I realized it's a hookah. Just sitting there, hanging out with the fridges. It also has matches, some charcoal and other hookah-y paraphenalia sitting on top of it.

Now, this raises a few questions in my mind. First of all, it has no storage label on it. How can I conscientiously release an item from storage without the proper documentation? That would be ethically wrong. And why did the person who owns this object place it in the refigerator room? Does he or she classify it as a food storage device? Perhaps he or she felt it would be more inconspicuous grouped with the hundreds of illegal microwaves in the refrigerator room? It's all such an enigma.

Also, they took my candles out of my room but they let THIS into storage? So unfair...

;-)


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The return of stress and angst and fun

I can officially move in tomorrow at 11am. I'm working as a Storage Monitor in Kirkland tomorrow and Saturday, so I get to move in my stuff earlier-ish.

Move-in has sneaked up on me and I'm not sure I like that. I want more time at home to be lazy and hang out with my mother. Where did that time go? Since when do I have to go and be a senior?

Oof.

Well, like it or not, I have to go do the senior thing pretty soon, so we'll see how that goes. I've also dived back into the thesis pool or jumped back on board the train or whatever and started thinking about my thesis again. I'm reading Writing Your Dissertation in Fifteen Minutes a Day, which tells you to write at least fifteen minutes each day on your thesis. Now I don't really have a thesis to write, only ideas, but Joan Bolker, Ph.D. has a suggestion for that too. She says just write a journal of your thoughts and ideas about your thesis for fifteen minutes each day, and as you research and you meet with your advisor and you have a more concrete idea of what the thesis will actually be, then your journal will start to be more like small attempts at paragraphs and outlines. I like this idea. So instead of making it an exercise I save on my hard drive and can cheat on, I'm making it a blog. Then it will be very clear if I am not writing something every day. And my friends can yell at me for it. So it's Olivia's Thesis Blog, you can find it at http://thesisredefined.blogspot.com

Enjoy. Oof. Again.

The Return of the LOLs, and what I've been doing all day since I got back

The first one:



The second one:



You're welcome.

I love that I get to live here

Isn't the Lynn beach pretty?

See? It's not just the city of sin. And yes, that is the Boston skyline in the distance.

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I. AM. HOME.

Tuffie and I are sitting on the front porch of our apartment building, soaking up the sun and enjoying each other's company.

United Airlines rocks my world. They got me on an earlier plane from Washington D.C. and I was home by 6:30 last night.

I love America. I love YOU. All of you.

:-D

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OMG they are showing Kung Fu Panda on this flight!

Scorrrre! Ugh I have so lucked out on the in-flight entertainment this trip. Step It Up 2 The Streets on the way here, Kung Fu Panda on the way back! The 8 and a half hours should just fly by. (That's how long Kung Fu Panda is, right?)
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Back in Britain, but on my way home!

My little collection of things I will miss about Britain and am therefore taking with me: Pimm's, a Pret Mature Cheddar and Pret Pickle sandwich, and a Pret bag with sundry Pret treats (crisps, love bar, yoghurt parfait). I would also have included the Pret chocolate croissant and strong skinny cappuccino, but you'd have to get a picture of my tummy to see those now... Hehe. Maybe when I get back I will let you have some of my Pimm's. Maybe. ;-)

My dad and I met the BITCHIEST lady today at the British Airways counter. I waited in line to ask if I could check my bags through to Boston even though I was changing airlines, but she wouldn't answer my question. She was just like, "Have you checked in at the express kiosk?" And I was like, "No, I wanted to know if I could check in all the way through." And she was like, "Well this is baggage drop off only." But she was the only one at the BA desk at 5:30 in the morning and my dad started asking her if she could check me in, speaking in Dutch, and she looked at him and said, "Are you traveling with her?" And he said no, and she said, "Then I will speak only to her." So I had to get out of line, check in with the little machine-y thing, wait in line again and ask her the same question. "I'm sorry," she said, "I can't check you in for another airline and I can't check your bags through. And since you are only going to London with us, you are only allowed one bag." Resisting the urge to throw my 22 kg bag at her head, I asked her if she couldn't just once bend the rules as I had to get home and paying 200 euros for an extra bag was not in my planned budget for the day. She gave a great big sigh and went, "Well, just this once. But don't make that mistake again."

Now any other time this may have been par for the course but I don't know if I mentioned this before: it was 5:30 in the morning on a Sunday. So I was this close to pulling a Ben Stiller from Meet the Parents. But I am an even-tempered, non-reactionary person. (Clearly...) So I let her obnoxious behavior slide this time.

Of course her not being able to check me through meant that I had to go through passport control and lug my two huge bags onto the Heathrow Express to transfer from terminal 5 to 1. Then they informed me at the United check in that I would have to pick up my bags again in DC to go through customs before dropping them off again for my flight to Boston. So I don't have a layover without having to struggle with the damn things. But that means I'm getting my exercise for the day, I suppose.

I have so much food in my bag. My gift to my mother is to bring her food and make her British and Dutch things. So my bag is stuffed with Branston pickle and digestive biscuits along with two 1 liter bottles of Pimm's. Hmmm. Maybe I should have thought this gift idea through a bit more. Food is HEAVY.

Am now about to board the flight to DC. So excited. America, here I come!

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Final day in Europe.

By coincidence, my grandfather is here this weekend and therefore we are going out to dinner with him and his wife. Apparently we are going to be having Australian food. What exactly is Australian cuisine, pray tell? I wish I had Chad or JC or Nicole here to help me out with that...

So, this trip is over. It's a much different feeling than I had at the end of my trip last year, to say the least. Last year, when working at Bicester Village, I loved my job and my experience so much that I stayed an extra three weeks and did not want to leave. Now, not so much. If I was looking on the pessimistic side of things, I could argue that this means that I have had a less successful or fulfilling summer than last year. But I am being an optimist, or at least a realist, and I contend that I have actually learned as much, if not more, about myself this summer than the previous, even if it has been more trying and less enjoyable all the time.

I certainly will not miss packing everything up every couple weeks to move to a new location. Note to self: next time you are in Europe for an extended period of time, don't pack so much or stay in one place most of the time. I feel like I have every item of clothing, pair of shoes, book and accessory that I brought with me to Europe memorized and cataloged permanently in my mind.

Now, while there have been many life lessons I feel I have probably absorbed in these past two and half months, I won't bore you with those. I will, however, do a BWE-style top ten list.

Top Ten Things that Kept Olivia Sane this Summer:

1) Skype

I really don't know what I would have done without my Skype. Without my Rachel and Mama time, I would have been lost in a sea of webcam-less darkness. Plus, I discovered all the different things I can make myself do/look like. Like Superman Olivia or Beatnik Olivia. Very cool.



2) The Dixie Chicks

The Chicks have seen me through some hard times, to be sure. But I don't believe I've ever fully appreciated them until this summer. Sitting on a train from Bergamo to Venice, riding the Picadilly Line from King's Cross to Baron's Court, they are the appropriate music for all occasions. I think I must have listened to my Dixie Chicks play list at least fifty times during this trip. Is it a bit out of place to be listening to country music during a trek around Europe? Maybe. But is it therapeutically healing? Absolutely.

3) Classic Novels

Jane Eyre taught me a lot about life. Like don't become a governess. And always make sure you check out who is really setting those fires. Wives and Daughters also taught me an important lesson: always make sure a book is a finished product before you invest in it and read 650 pages only to find out it is an unfinished novel with no ending. I am the wiser for reading these books.

4) My BlackBerry

This one is pretty self-explanatory, I imagine. I would have been lost, alone, and my blog would have been half its current size without the brilliant contraption that is my BlackBerry. 'Nuff said.

5) My Watch

This one may sound dumb, but it really is important to know what time it is. And cell phone isn't always an option.

6) My American Apparel Bandeau Dresses

By far the best investment I've EVER made in an item of clothing. I have worn these things so many times and I get compliments on them every time I wear them. I have three colors, and I basically could have brought those, a pair of jeans, and a couple t-shirts to Europe and been set for the rest of the summer. (They used to be $34. It sucks that the price has gone up, but really it's still a complete bargain.)

7) My Short Haircut

Such a wise decision. I can jump out of the shower and go, and it's dry in 15 minutes. Plus when I don't wash it you really can't tell. Why did I spend three years growing it out? Sigh.

8) Marks and Spencer

It was one of the things I was most looking forward to in coming back to Britain, and it was even better than I remembered. There just something so wonderful about a grocery store that takes itself seriously but actually has good food without everything being whole wheat and organic. Don't get me wrong. Love the organic and whole wheat. Wanna marry it. But Marks and Spencer could beat Whole Foods or Trader Joe's with its hands tied behind its back. For serious.

9) My Independence

This one is getting a little serious, I know, but I realized this summer how lucky I am to have grown up self-sufficient. Staying with my little brother and sister this week has only made it clearer that I am unique in being able to take care of myself and handle shitty situations. And more than anything, I realized this summer that part of being self-sufficient is knowing when to ask for help. Lame, I know, but I felt like this should go on the list.

10) My Friends

The amount of support and love I got from my friends this summer never ceased to amaze me and it made me realize how lucky I am to be where I am and know the people I know. From Jack's being a knight in shining armor to Rachel always being there, even if I just needed to see her face, to Alison's patient listening to my family woes to everyone else who cared, encouraged, and endured with me this summer, if this summer has taught me nothing, it has taught me that I am truly blessed to be surrounded by these incredible people. So thank you guys all so much for being there for me. I owe you one.


Okay, I realize this got relatively poorly written and incoherent towards the end. I am now back from dinner and exhausted and I have a 2o hour trip ahead of me tomorrow, so rather than edit this shit I'm just going to call it a day. I love you all and thank you so much to those who have been reading this insignificant little blog and being a part of my journey. God bless.


Goedenacht,

Olivia

Harvard's back at Number 1!

BOO-YAH, Princeton!

This is all thanks to my work at HCF, I am positive.

Heehee!

Going to Amsterdam for the last time this summer!

I'm not sure I've ever mentioned that the trains in Holland are double-decker, like the buses in the UK. It's the only country I've ever been to (in my limited experience) that has double-decker trains. The buses here aren't two levels, just the trains. Weird. Anyway, just thought I would share.

Of course the minute I step out the door, it starts pouring. Thanks, Holland. I love you too.
New music obsession: "Boyz" by M.I.A. The same girl who sings "Paper Planes". Amanda introduced me to this song during LAMDA and now I cannot stop listening to it. It's addictive.
Three days till I'm back in the States! Who's excited?

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OH MY GOD HE HAS IT ON REPEAT

genius.

everything I told my friends about my brother: coming true.

My 13-year-old brother is listening to "Everytime" by Britney Spears

...and singing along.

I'm not sure he knows I'm in the next room.

But I gotta tell ya, listening to a 13-year-old boy singing "Every time I try to fly, I fall...I guess I need you baby.." in a Dutch accent is pretty priceless.

Oh to be 13 again...

...would suck. Never mind.

Things that make me happy:

1. This moment - the best moment of cinematic history. Ever. It happens at 3:05. (The whole scene is genius, though.)



2. Robert Downey, Jr. being bat-shit crazy. What the f*** is he talking about? Is that even ENGLISH?

3. This deep-sea diving duo:



If Tuffie and Cappuccino weren't both deathly afraid of water, this would be them.

4. This baby:



Give it a couple months, Evan Iverson Prescott is gonna give this baby a run for his money.

5. You. All of you.

;-)

Final post of the day, I swear

But this just needs to be expressed:

WHY ARE THERE FREAKING SPIDERS ALL OVER THIS FREAKING COUNTRY???

I had forgotten that as fall approaches in Holland, every species of spider in Western Europe congregates in Heemstede, the Netherlands. Specifically in my father's house. Going downstairs to put my laundry in the dryer, I was attacked by FOUR SPIDERS. FOUR. SEPARATE. SPIDERS.

I am sleeping on the floor. That means they are all going to come and get me while I am sleeping.

Those of you who have heard my Dutch spider story know that when I encounter a spider in my room, I have two choices: be eaten by the giant spider or possibly see my father naked. If you don't know this story, I'm sorry because that sounds really sketchy, but it is based on a true story. A tiny terrycloth bathrobe with daisies on it saved me from being scarred for life. This time I may not be so lucky.

Now I'm scared to go to bed. What if they come and eat me??

An update

What looks and smells gross, probably is gross.

Dad did have one other thing on offer for dinner, however: mussels. (Yuck.)

Kill me now. I am hungry.

Even Blogger is in Dutch in the Netherlands...

It's disconcerting.

So, yes, I made it back to Holland alive. And with all my shit, too. I cried at the baggage check-in counter and they let me check my two 25-kg bags. (The limit is one 20-kg bag.) Do I feel guilty for playing the crying girl card? No.

My father is currently making dinner. When I asked him what he was making, he said, "food." All I know is he chopped onions, endives, cooked what was left in three different packets of rice and weird-noodle looking things, put it all in a casserole dish and stuck it in the oven. The smell is interesting. I'm sure the taste will be too. Maybe I should start drinking before we eat....

In other news, I'm going to take this week and try to get my Dutch citizenship. Since my parents weren't married when they had me, though, I'm technically not my father's daughter. According to Dutch law. You know, the law in the same place where pot and mushrooms are legal? Where gay marriage has been legal for like, ever? Yeah, that same place says that since my parents didn't get married 21 years ago, I'm not Dutch.

Maybe the crying girl card will work on the Dutch Naturalization officers...

So close to coming home!

8 days until I'm back in the US! Going to Holland today! We're in the home stretch. I'm sure I'll be sad soon, but right now I'm too focused on getting all my shit out of this room and making it to Heathrow in one piece. I have too much stuff. This is a given fact. I thought I had gotten better at packing. I haven't. I've gotten worse. If my suitcase accidentally fell over while I was standing next to it, I would probably be crushed. We'll see what KLM thinks of that. Memo to me: next time take the train to Holland.

Final day at LAMDA: It's over!

As of ten minutes ago, my program at LAMDA is finished.

We concluded the program with a day-long workshop with Marc, our Physical Theatre teacher, who has been teaching us "the elements": acting out earth, water, fire, and air. (I had a lot of trouble with earth, as you may recall. Mary says this is because I am most definitely a firey air.)

Today we combined all the elements and made scenes where the elements interacted. Now I realize that I am supposed to be taking all of this very seriously, but when you're talking in depth about how earth and fire would probably interact in a combative fashion and that you need to discover all the states of water, it basically feels like you're in a giant episode of Captain Planet.

"By YOUR powers combined, I am Captain Lecoq!"

Except we were missing the South American kid who's heart. Which was sad.

Truth be told, I am so thankful for everything I've learned here and all the people I've met, but I'm really ready to go home. I feel like I'm missing so much back in the States and the fact that my senior year is looming is taking its toll on my enjoyment. Plus I'm essentially out of money and I need to get back to Holland, where I can mooch off my family.

I am feeling my absence even more keenly because I have now have a NEPHEW in Seattle! Evan Iverson Prescott was born on Wednesday, and I'm feeling so disconnected that I cannot be there to welcome him. So I think it's understandable that I'm a little distracted.

Lots more to tell about the past few days, but this being a British school which recognizes the importance of alcohol to any celebration, there are free drinks and snacks downstairs in which I must partake. Plus apparently we're getting some kind of diploma. How can you get a diploma for a month's worth of work? I wish they had a fast track program like that at Harvard...

Miss you all and see you VERY soon!

Olivia

Last Play in London!

Sitting in the National Theatre before seeing my last play in London on this trip, The Revenger's Tragedy by Thomas Middleton. Avril thinks she just saw someone famous in the loo, but she doesn't know who. But she's sure she's famous.

I'm so excited to see this play. It's supposed to be really good, and it's my first at the National Theatre!
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"To die saying, "Shit!" is just not gonna do it."

- Rodney Cottier, during his lecture on "Shakespeare's Kings" this evening, on why people should ask for mercy before they die lest they go to eternal damnation. Overall, a sunny evening of uplifting quotes.

Actually, it was a great lecture by a great lecturer that I hope will come to Harvard this fall! But overall is was a bright spot in a rather gloomy day.

It's getting cold in London. What the fuck? It's August, for chrissake. Stay warm, dammit.

I spent an hour running around Hammersmith mall today looking for a champagne glass. Either the cheapo plastic party kind or the real one. Personally, I think there is something seriously déclassé about a country in which champagne glasses are not readily available at the nearest commercial mecca. It's just not right.

Finally, when I did find one at T.K. Maxx (not T.J. Maxx, mind you; the Brits had to be obstinate and pick a different letter,) I got back to LAMDA huffing and puffing and my acting teacher was like, what's the matter with you? And I was like, I've been running around trying to find a champagne glass for my scene! I'm being very Uta! And she was like, well what did you do that for, I've got tons of them! My goodness I hope you didn't spend money.

No, Jenny, I traded T.K. Maxx a lamb and a bushel of corn for the glass. Sheesh.

I guess I am a bit grumpy today. I have to admit, I'm getting quite homesick. See, this is my homesick face:
Yes, that is a gratuitous webcam photo. I feel like there haven't been enough of them recently.

I miss home and I miss my mom. My brother is having a baby any second now. (Or at least his wife is. He's not the pregnant transman or anything.) I don't get to be there with them, nor do I get to be with my mom when she hears that she has a new grandchild. So that's getting me a bit in the dumps, I suppose.

Regardless, I am doing my damnedest to enjoy my last few days in England. And I mean my damnedest. I expect these next few days to be filled with lots of excitement and intrigue.

...or just rehearsing and sweater-wearing. Same diff.

I didn't mention in my last post the serendipitous meeting I had at Taming of the Shrew on Thursday night. I'm sitting in my seat, waiting for the show to begin, when I glance over and see two people having their picture taken one section over. Aw, how cute, I thought. A couple having their picture taken at a dark and sinister comedy.

Then I did a double take. Wait a minute, I said to myself, I know that tall blonde-headed figure. And I know that petite brunette lady. Which is when I shouted out across the theater, in a very Marianne Dashwood-fashion:

"JOOOOO-NAHHHHH!"


Lo and behold, Mr Jonah and Ms Julianne turned around and betrayed their shock and dismay joy to see me!

I love that the world is small enough that I can run into friends at a Thursday night performance three thousand miles from home. It really made me feel anything can happen.

I have proof of the occurrence:

We are actually all singing "It's a Small World After All". No joke.
Okay, it's a joke, but it would have been appropriate.

Tomorrow we perform our scenes in front of other members of our group for the first time. I'm really nervous. I've never actually performed any Shakespeare before, in my life. So we'll see how that goes.

I miss you all and am thinking about you in my bout of homesickness. Don't worry though, I'll stop thinking about you soon.

:)

A rainbow lands in London, a Hoosier lands in Stratford

Me: Oh no! The rainbow is going away!
My mom: Well, rainbows don't last forever.
Me: Oh. Now I feel depressed and transitory.
My mom: Oh, dear...

There is a rainbow outside my window. Or at least there was. Now it is gone. But it was very pretty and part of a very cool, albeit weird, London skyscape this evening.

I know it's been a bit of a hiatus since I last wrote, and my previous post left a little to be desired. Thanks, though, to the friends who indulged my pity party and sent me get well messages. Then again, some of you just told me I should stop "holding hands" with French boys. (Thanks, Rachel's mom.)

I got back on Friday from my program's trip to Stratford-upon-Avon, and have been relatively unproductive since. The trip was so much fun, and I didn't even take as much advantage of the escape from London as my classmates did, feeling under the weather as I did.

We were able to see the RSC's production of Hamlet with David Tennant and Patrick Stewart. We were very lucky to get tickets, since the entire run sold out within a few days of tickets going on sale. (The posters for the production just say, "Returns only.") This may be a bit bewildering to my American readership (yeah, I'm calling you a readership - deal with it), but David Tennant is this huge star in Britain. He's Doctor Who in the television remake here, and was in the fourth Harry Potter film, etc. So he's a big heartthrob here and tickets for him playing Hamlet sold like hot cakes. All the British girls in the program were giddy to see him, except for Sylvia, who, in a memorable moment, looked at Nicole and said, "Really? You fancy him? He looks like a mad weasel!" This, of course, in the most proper RP accent.

I don't think she's quite doing him justice. He very much does look like he could play a mad scientist, but I'll give it to him that he does have a helluva lot of charisma. It was the best performance of Hamlet I've ever seen, on stage or on film. The cast was really strong, and the way the director used the space, I thought, was clever without being too over-the-top. The entire set was made of mirrors: the floor and giant movable wall/doors comprised the entire set. The beginning scene with the guards was done without any light except for flashlights held by the actors, but they pointed them at the ground so that the reflected light lit their faces, reflected off the walls, and lit the whole scene in an eerie, completely effective manner.

Patrick Stewart's a beast. That's all I have to say. He's just awesome and strangely attractive for a man in sixties. Am I sick? Possibly. Do I care? No.

The next night, we saw a production of The Taming of the Shrew which was a very daring interpretation of a play that most people my age seem to associate exclusively with 10 Things I Hate About You. This production took the approach that the entire story is about the systematic destruction of a woman through physical and psychological abuse, framed in a sinister comedy. But the ways in which this director incorporated farce with the stark realism of abuse and meshed Shakespearean language and costumes with an ever-encroaching modern view of domestic violence made for a powerful impact. A lot of people didn't like the production; two of the LAMDA directors left at intermission. But I really don't think they were giving this production a chance and weren't allowing themselves to see what the director was trying to communicate. Hamlet was brilliant for it's stellar cast and a faithfully and well-acted script, but it didn't try to send a new message or put a twist on the play (which was the right choice, since that play is so well known and people have such strong ideas about its interpretation). However, the director of Shrew made bold choices of interpretation and concept that clearly put a stamp on this as a unique production, which I think ought to be commended.

Ugh, I just got really serious and reviewer-y there. Sorry.

So more fun stuff about Stratford. It is one of the most touristy places I've ever been. The only thing this town does is Shakespeare. This makes for some pretty awesome tourist traps. Walking around, I realized that some of these stores and restaurants' signs were too priceless to forget, so I took pictures for posterity. Here are some of my favorites:

We also went to the Dirty Duck pub each night after the shows, which is the "official" pub of the RSC. The actors have their own private side of the pub that has its own access to its own side of the bar, etc. I want an HRDC-exclusive side of Borders, with free margaritas. I've decided.

Ugh so much more to write but if I make this post any longer you won't read all of it. So I'll leave it for another day.

;-)

Olivia

I'm sick...

*cough* *cough*

I think I am being punished.

Boo.

Things I learned today:

1. How to make the Xena Warrior Princess call using only my tongue and natural vocal abilities. Apparently this will come in useful in acting and whenever I am mugged.

2. How to play consonant badminton. I don't think this is going to come in useful in anything.

3. Wagamama is better in Britain.

4. The Globe Theatre is really cool looking inside.

5. The Merry Wives of Windsor is just as good as Falstaff, the opera I was in when I was 12. Except clearly I was a way better fairy. But I was singing in Italian.

Still watching reruns of Supernatural, when I should probably be studying. Good quote:

ASH: (opening door, naked) Sam, Dean.

SAM: Hey Ash. We need your help.

ASH: Well hell then. Guess I'm gonna need my pants.

I'm going to ROMANIA!!!

This is me in Romania. Or as I will look in Romania. Again, no judging. I still don't have Photoshop.

I just bought my ticket to visit Ms. Radulian in ROMANIA! I am SO excited!

In other news, today I saw a headline in a trashy British newspaper that read, "Dwarf Burglar Gets Drunk on Job". Oh how I love the Brits.

I've also decided that I'm going to embrace the sketchy. I mean, I'm not going to embrace sketchy people. (Sorry, I know you were hoping for that. ALL of you.) But I am going to embrace the sketchiness of life. And not get freaked out about it. Just roll with it. Enjoy it. Maybe flirt with the sketchy people on occasion. You know why? Because sometimes you need an ego boost, and who is better for that than sketchy people? They are always happy to give you a sketchy compliment. You know what else they're good for? Free drinks.

It's all good.

In other news, today in Physical Theatre class I spent an hour "being earth". It was awesome. I also brought a bottle of cheap champagne to rehearsal because my acting teacher told me that I should be drinking champagne in rehearsal. I guess I should have realized she didn't mean the real stuff. (I mean, the Brits are always drinking, why not in rehearsal?) The look I got when I pulled that out of my bag after my character shoes and rehearsal skirt was kind of priceless. Worth the humiliation, definitely, in hindsight. She also was trying to get me to connect with the scene and said, well, imagine you had a crush on someone in this class and you couldn't tell him. I turned bright red. Now I'm the blushing girl. Just call me blushing spirit fingers. Oy.

Alright, off to read Shakespeare and make squid with my hands.

Olivia

Bloggin' from LAMDA

Sitting in the LAMDA SCR, blogging. I'm pretty awesome.

So, I know it's been a while since I posted. I kept meaning to post but I've been exhausted! I realized after the first few days that the last time I had class for eight hours straight was in high school. Like, sophomore year of high school. I feel old and tired.

Okay, not really. The classes here at LAMDA are really cool and they're a nice break from the whole thesis-ing thing. I'm obviously the only Harvard person here, so I get a lot of Harvard comments. Also, the other day my acting teacher was talking about actors being too intellectual, looked at me and went, "Being an academic is death for an actor." And she said it in this big scary voice. So I'm trying to keep the medieval manuscript talk to a minimum lest I be discovered and condemned to death. I live in constant fear.

I thought that Harvard theater had a superfluity of theater games. I was wrong. There are many more to choose from, and they are practiced in abundance here at LAMDA. In fact, there are days I have felt that the one thing I'm going to learn at LAMDA is how to do an infinite amount of variations on the "yes" game. Now, while that may not be worth my £1650, it sure is damn fun. Food for thought.

One of the classes in which all we do is theater games is "Physical Theatre". Not really sure what that is supposed to mean in general, as a subject, but here at LAMDA it means you are taught by a feisty bald Northern Englishman who was trained at Lecoq and likes to make fun of you. Lightheartedly, but incessantly. While doing a finger stretch (cause you know, those fingers, they get tight, and they needs them some stretching), I started giggling because it looked like everyone around the room was doing spirit fingers like in "Bring It On". Because all I really do is find references to teen flicks in every day life. It's a finely honed skill. Anyway, I tried to stifle my giggles to no avail, and caught the eye of Marc, the teacher. He asked what I was laughing at. Being an honest person, I told him that I was thinking of spirit fingers. He asked what the fuck were spirit fingers. Clearly the only way to describe them is to demonstrate, so using the appropriate hand movements, I went, "These are jazz hands. THESE are spirit fingers." So now my nickname is Spirit Fingers. Both in class and out. It's great.

Much more to tell, but I'm hungry. More anecdotes to come soon. Love and kisses!

Back in London, Safe and Sound

The view from my window. Not the most picturesque or anything, but it's definitely the highest room I've ever lived in by a lot and it's cool to see a skyline.

So I'm back in the U.K.! Woo! It is no warmer or sunnier here than it was in Holland, people still have funny accents and I still don't know what all the fuss is about football. However, it is a change of scenery and it gets me off my lazy bum to actually do something useful and productive with myself. Like acting. Because that is a useful and productive use of my time.

I have moved into a room at Nido London, this student housing complex right by King's Cross station. The area is not particularly nice, not particularly not-nice, and in general pretty nondescript. There is a Pret a Manger. There is a McDonald's. There are two train stations. That's pretty much it. But the building is really cool, if only because it's brand new and has all kinds of fancy amenities, like a cafe and a fitness center. Which I will totally use. No really, I swear.

I have a roommate, Amanda, and we have already discovered that we have things in common. Like friends on Facebook and Shakespeare. Okay, that's all I got right now but I'll keep you posted.

I realized as I was getting on the plane in Amsterdam that I have put exactly zero amount of thought or preparation into coming to LAMDA. It was just sort of something I was doing in between other things. So I figured maybe I should do some reading up on what I would be doing here. In shuffling through the papers I had stuffed in my bag, I was reminded that I would be learning Alexander Technique, Historical Dancing, and, of course, would be required to bring a Complete Works of Shakespeare with me to class.

Hold on, what?

I guess I should have realized that if I was going to attend a four-week Shakespeare workshop, I might have to bring some works of Shakespeare with me. I guess I was a little distracted by all the medieval manuscript smelling. So it's a Sunday afternoon and I have not brought the one thing I was supposed to bring with me. And everything here is double the price it would be in the States because of the fucking dollar. "What am I gonna do?" I thought.

Enter: the most GHETTO-TASTIC COMPLETE WORKS OF SHAKESPEARE EVER.
My financial angst was solved on the second floor of the Gower Street Waterstone's when I came across this bad boy. £5.99. It even has a picture of Shakespeare on the cover. Oh wait, that's not a picture of Shakespeare I've ever seen before. I don't think that is Shakespeare. I think that's the guy who wrote some other play. DEAR GOD IT'S STEPHEN GREENBLATT!

Okay, it's not, but wouldn't that be funny? Seriously, where is this portrait from? Well, apparently this version is based on the "highly regarded Shakespeare Head Press edition," so they must know what an authentic Shakespeare portrait looks like, right...?

Alright, I'm going on too much about my cheap-ass Shakespeare. Whatevs. It was cheap. I am awesome. That is not Shakespeare on the cover. Finis.

Tomorrow's first day of classes, so I'm sure there will be lots to report. More to come soon!

Exit, pursued by a bear. Wearing high heels. (This should be the way it is performed anyway.)

Stuck in Stanstead

Alliterative, and annoying. Here's my question: why would one build an airport where the gates are so far away from the main building that you need a train to travel from one to the other? And why, if you chose to go ahead with that daft scheme, would you not have a backup plan if you couldn't use the train. Like, for example, if your stupid train CAUGHT FIRE?

I would like to have a chat with Mr. Inventor-of-Stanstead-Airport. Now.

I am sitting on a dirty floor, in a hall that smells kind of like Ovaltine that's gone sour, waiting for a train THAT WILL NEVER COME. Kill me now, please. Why can't I ever arrive in England without incident? Seriously.

On the upside, I've got my iPod on shuffle and "No Air" just came on and it makes me think of Katee and Joshua's dance on SYTYCD. Now I want to watch it. It's the little pleasures.

Mwah.
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from the Green Wing episode I'm watching:

Caroline: Did you just throw your breast at me?

Sue White: No. Do you want me to?

Caroline: NO.

-------

Karen: How do I look?

Rachel: Rough. I know! Crouch down, it makes you look less ugly.

Karen looks confused.

Rachel: No, crouch!

Karen crouches.

Rachel: Mmm, still ugly.

Karen crouches more.

Rachel: There.

------

brilliant.

i'm a lazy bum

I have spent the last two and a half days doing....nothing.

After hanging out with Hannah, Marcus, and Ty for a few days, I felt old. And tired. And realized that I have like four days until LAMDA starts. I am in desperate need of doing nothing.

I have officially succeeded. I've been waking up uber-late. Then taking naps throughout the day. Watching episodes of The Closer and Supernatural. And Gooische Vrouwen. And eating cereal and peanut butter sandwiches.

I realize I'm in a foreign country and should be exploring and experiencing it. But I've done the Dutch thing. Hanging out in a house for days = pretty awesome.

Back to online television...

mwah!

At the beach in Zandvoort!

Chilling at the beach in Zandvoort with Hannah, Marcus, and Ty. Yes, Holland does have beaches. It's the one day of good weather we've had since I've been here, and I get to share it with friends at the beach!

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Surprise!

Yesterday, I had the lovely surprise of Ms. Hannah C-S, Marcus, and their friend Ty arriving in Heemstede! I have houseguests for the first time in Holland!

We're now out and about in Amsterdam. It's the first time I've been here with people my own age... Yay!

More updates soon...
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Oof...

Bob eating his pancake with ham and cheese.

I think I ate my weight in cheese and dough. I might burst. I am definitely not eating again for a week. (Meanwhile, sitting next to us at the pancake house was a troop of tall, skinny, beautiful Dutch people eating cheesy fried pancakes and topping it off with ice cream. ICE CREAM! WHY DID I NOT GET THOSE GENES!?)

Okay, off to sit very still and try not to throw up...
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At the Pannenkoekenhuis

Possibly my favorite place in Holland. The pancake house is the YUMMIEST PLACE ON EARTH. Amber and Bob agree.
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This one is for Rachel, and all my peeps in Italia

Click the image to make it larger. From www.katebeaton.com, which has way more awesome cartoons like this one.

we roll out, yo.

your MOM is the stupidest thing ever.

and then this:



and this:


ladays love the pontiff.

mwah.

The Jexican on CNN!

That rhymes!

The HCF's very own Ely Portillo, who is working at the Miami Herald this summer, was interviewed on CNN! It's a really sad story, and look how stoic and professional he looks! Aww, our widdle Ewy is all gwown up!

(Also, I find it funny that the CNN guy asks if there were "shady characters" at a college party.)



Yay, Ely, you're FAMOUS!

Dutch Weather Sucks

This really sucks. There are NO SUNNY DAYS in SIGHT in Holland. I want to go to the beach! (Yes, Holland has beaches. They are very nice. Why is everyone so skeptical when I say that? Oh, wait. Maybe it's because IT RAINS ALL THE FREAKING TIME.)

So, what is there to do but sit inside, type up a script, and watch Gooische Vrouwen. Anouk is sleeping with the police officer investigating Claire's husband's death. Gratuitous sex scenes and dramatic music abounds.

The weather outside looks like Mother Nature took a look at Holland and couldn't be bothered to make a decision. It's gray, but only rains on and off, when you are about to say, "Oh look, it's clearing up." I think the weather in Holland is constantly PMS-ing.

Oooohhh Martin is singing again on Gooische Vrouwen. You know what's funnier than sappy pop songs sung by middle-aged men? Sappy pop songs sung by middle-aged men IN DUTCH! Baaaahahahahahaha....

Deze week op Dutch Idiosyncrasies

There are many things about Dutch culture I don't understand. Like, why are all the stores closed on Mondays? Who exactly goes to church? Anyone? Or are they just pretty old reminders of when they were ruled by the Spanish, French, and Germans?

But while they may be puzzling, the idiosyncrasies of the Dutch are nothing if not amusing. Now, there are far too many to write about in one measly blog entry, but a good three came up today that are just screaming to be shared with my less-informed-of-the-Dutch-ways friends.

So here we go, in order of their appearance in my day today.

First of all, there is a word the Dutch use for emphasis, "hoor". This word can be used to make any word that precedes it more pronounced. It is mainly used after the words "ja" (yes) and "nee" (no). This is all well and good, and the Dutch like to have words to add to their sentences to give them a little flavor (sort of like verbal exclamation points), but this word is particularly unfortunate. Because every time someone says, "Nee, hoor!" I involuntarily giggle. I have been coming to this country for five years, and even though I know the language well enough and I certainly know better, I can't help thinking that everyone - from the hairdresser to my little sister - is going around calling each other whores. I mean, that would kind of make sense in this country. After all, prostitution is legal, there is a more liberal mindset, who's to say that "whore" would not become a term of endearment? Still, it is awkward when one of my half-siblings is in a fight with my stepmother and they keep saying "Nee, hoor!", because I am not very good at stifling my laughter. I do not win brownie points from either side.

Secondly, the obsession with fries is out of control here. Out. Of. Control. I understand that it's like a cultural thing or whatever, but I have never seen so many fries in my life. There is half a row of shelves dedicated to fritessaus, the mayonnaise-like sauces they dip fries in, in the Albert Heijn. Then, in the frozen foods section, literally one third of the frozen food is fries. Like, they have their own massive freezer bin with just different types of fries. And we're not just talking straight or crinkle-cut. These are intense. I thought I had seen the worst of it until my little brother brought these home for dinner:


What. The. Fuck. They are fries. That smile at you. It's like a mashed potato version of Goldfish, only wayyyyy creepier. They have holes for eyes and mouths and they sit on the plate and stare at you with a vacant glare that threatens to suck your soul into their deep-fried holes of doom. The Dutch have taken their obsession with fries too far. TOO FAR I TELL YOU!

(Apparently, not everyone agrees with me. I got this picture from a website dedicated to declaring that "Smiley Fries" are the Best Fries Ever. Ew.)

And, finally, drumroll please....

Gooische Vrouwen

...quite possibly the best Dutch invention. Ever. Like, beyond the windmill or Heineken, this takes the cake.

Where can I find the words? There are no words. Okay, yes there are. Gooische Vrouwen (roughly translated: "good wives/women") is the Dutch version of Desperate Housewives. And it's awesome. The Dutch describe it as a "soap". (For more hilarious soaps from Holland, check out the Gooische Vrouwen website.) I find this funny because American day time soaps are the dramas all the Dutch people watch at night. My stepmother and little brother and sister cannot comprehend why I do not watch Days of Our Lives and All My Children. It just does not compute. I try to explain that (A) these shows are on during the day, (B) I don't have television anyway, and (C) these shows are not necessarily the toast of American television, but that goes over their heads. Just like the Abercrombie and Fitch things. Some American trends that travel over here, however inexplicable, are too deeply ingrained for one small person to battle.

Okay, back to Gooische Vrouwen. The Dutch have shamelessly ripped off the concept of Desperate Housewives made it TEN TIMES BETTER. (Okay, so I've seen one episode of Desperate Housewives. It seemed kind of lame. This show, too, is lame, but it in Dutch and there is way more nudity and sex than is allowed on T.V. in America, so I think it wins.) The main characters are:

- Claire, the perfectionist divorce attorney who is wearing white in almost every scene just to show how much of a perfectionist she is and whose husband gets killed during the first episode (more on that later).

- Willemijn, the token fat one (we don't have one of those in America, it's a shame). She has not had sex in years ('cause she's fat! The Dutch are soooooo insensitive to different body types. Oh wait, I'm from America. Our shows don't have fat people...) but we see her husband masturbating every morning in the shower (that's right, people! Masturbation! On network television! At 8PM! Full nudity! Oh, the Dutch....) Poor Willemijn.

- Cheryl, the wife of the huge Dutch pop star Martin (an oxymoron) who is clearly having an affair behind her back while she is oblivious. She befriends Willemijn because she is fat and hasn't had sex in years and knows how to pick out hors d'oeuvres. Her life is a trial because the paparazzi keep hounding her. You know, the hordes of Dutch paparazzi. Going after the Dutch pop star. Oh yeah, this show makes tons of sense.

- Anouk, the sex pot. She flirts with any man who comes across her path, and then there are extended sex scenes in which she has sex in the kitchen, in the bathroom, in the backyard, in her daughter's room, and in her art studio, and that's just the first two episodes. Her ex-husband is hot and a pilot. She has a daughter, but she doesn't seem to really have time for her. She's busy having all the sex. She has an au pair from Taiwan named Tippi Wan. This is an example of how the Dutch do not shy from insulting racial stereotypes. Anouk treats poor Tippi very badly. Apparently later in the series, in retribution, Tippi Wan uses her Asian expertise in explosives to blow up Willemijn's party. Chaos, hilarity, and sex ensues.

In the first episode, Claire's husband dies at a party thrown by Cheryl and Martin by drunkenly diving into a pool...with no water in it. It is very gruesome and there is a lot of screaming. Claire handles it like a professional, obsessing over her inheritance and avoiding hugging her daughter, who runs away to live with Willemijn's son Roderick in sin. When Claire finds the key to a safe deposit box in her deceased husband's things, she opens the box to find that he was in loads of debt and gay. Yeah, along with the bank statements there's a bunch of polaroids of him gettin' it on with another dude. Gay blow jobs caught on camera: that's how we roll in the Netherlands. Clearly she's pissed. She puts on another white pantsuit. She feels better.

There is so much more to tell, but if you've gotten this far, I'm absolutely shocked. Why have you spent this much time reading my stupid blog? Go do something else. Got nothing to do? Okay, watch a clip from Gooische Vrouwen. Night!

At de Bijenkorf

Amber bites off a little bit more than she can chew at the cafe in de Bijenkorf, which is like the Bloomingdale's of Amsterdam. Bob got a brownie for lunch. I'm on my third cup of Dutch coffee today. All in all, a good start.

Tot ziens!

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clearly have way too much time on my hands...

Well what am I supposed to do? It's raining and Wanda and the kids just went out to buy an ironing board. My life lacks excitement since I left Venice. There are no creepy Italians here. There are no dungeons to get lost in. (P.S. WHY did I not take pictures of the dungeon we got lost in? I was looking through my camera and I totally did not document that experience. I am stupid.)

So this is what I've discovered: my webcam has effects! Look, I'm back in London:


Cool, right?

Alright, well I think it is. I'm officially Skype-ing with a different background every time now. Look out. It's gonna be awesome.

In real "news", it's nice to be back in Heemstede with Wanda and the kids, I just don't know what to do with them? I get up in the morning and they're like, so, what do you want to do, and I'm like, "Bahdunno." We do not get very far with this line of conversation. Especially since "bahdunno" is not really a word and definitely does not translate into Dutch.

The weather outside is not nice. I mean, it's Holland so one expects rain and gloom for the majority of the time, but it would be nice to be somewhere warm and with sun during the summer for a change. While Venice was incredibly hot and humid, it was nice nevertheless to get some sun and warmth. The minute I showed up in Holland it was raining.

Wow, it's really coming down hard now. And thundering. I'm wondering if Wanda and Bob and Amber took the car. I hope they did. We live quite close to town so we/they often walk or ride bikes to get places, but it really sucks if you get caught in weather like this. It's actually surprising that bike riding is such a thing here, since like 60% of the time it's raining cats and dogs and deadly for bike riding. But the Dutch do not care. Rain does not faze the Dutch. The Dutch laugh in the face of rain. And danger. They're basically super heroes in wooden shoes.

It is funny because every time it rains here, my family seems disappointed and surprised. Like, "Oh, no, it's raining! Oh how horrible!" And I'm like, it's Holland. Don't you get used to this? But I suppose if you live in a country like this you have to develop an inner irrational optimism about the weather. Otherwise your mood would be as gloomy as the weather usually is. Or at least that's how I'm going to explain it.

So something you may not know about Holland: one of the most popular clothing stores is Sissy-Boy. Yes, that is what it is called. Completely un-ironically. I don't know who came up with the name, but it was clearly not someone who had very good knowledge of English. My little brother and sister have no idea what it means, and just think the clothes are really cool.

Like many shops and department stores, bigger Sissy-Boy's (hehe, it's funny just typing it) have cafes in them. We went there for coffee and lunch today, as most of the cafes were closed since it's Monday. (That's another Dutch thing. Stores and restaurants and lots of other places close on Monday. They're open Saturday and Sunday, but they close Monday. No one is able to explain the reasoning behind this, except for Wanda who says, "Well we do like to party here in Holland. Maybe it's to recover from the weekend?" I laughed at that.) If I could describe coffee in Holland in one word it would be awesome. I love Dutch coffee so much. Even more than Italian coffee, to be frank. And the cappuccinos we had in Venice were killer. But a Dutch kopje koffie beats all in my book. It's strong, comes with a biscuit and koffiemelk, and must be savored over several sips. It's quite the ritual here, and I love having a ritual for coffee drinking. It's soothing.

Wow, I am really rambling. I wish I had more exciting things to share, but I don't. Just tales of rain and coffee. Maybe something more exciting will happen tonight.

Tot morgen!

Olivia

I would like a happy medium

I arrive in Holland. It is cold. And raining so hard you can't see more than a few feet. I am wearing an American Apparel sundress. I was sweating and dying in it in Italy this morning. Now I think I may freeze to death. I WANT SOME NORMAL SUMMER WEATHER!!!

That's all. Too cold to type.
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Goodbye Venice!

On the vaporetti boat to Ferrovia. I will take a boat, a train, another train, a bus, a plane, a bus, and two more trains. And then I'll be back in Holland. Or at least that's the goal. Hopefully I don't get side tracked in Verona this time. More updates to come...
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Good night after a LONG day

Rachel and I are the bestesy bedmates ever. And we're in Venice. Nuff said.

Buona sera,
Olivia
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Hunka hunka burning Venezia

In Venice with Rachel. We've been to San Marco church, the Palace of the Doges, and gotten lost in a prison. Now we're sitting waiting for the Vaporetti to S. Lazzaro, which is apparently the Armenian island. We are listening to Broadway songs on Rachel's shuffle. We are awesome.

I believe I am actually turning into a puddle. Will keep you updated on that front.

Ciao!

Olivia
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Finally in Venice!

I'm here and with the beautiful Rachel, eating pizza and drinking wine. I love Italy.
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In Italy...and lost.

So I made it to Italy! All is well! Except I got on a train to Verona instead of Venice. Oops. Hopefully there's a train from Verona to Venice tonight because it looks like this one is going nonstop. Mmmmmkay. I can deal with this. Totally.

In my defense, the train to Verona was supposed to leave a half an hour before the one to Venice, from the same platform. And they don't mark the trains. How was I supposed to know???

Quel adventure.
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On the Train to Eindhoven

...and it is raining in Holland. Shocker, I know. It might rain in Venice this weekend, too. I guess I bring it with me.

I love the Dutch. The woman in the seat across from me just pulled a matching plate and mug out of her bag, followed by a knife, a tub of butter, and a sort of Dutch fruit croissant. She's started spreading the butter on the bread and drinking something out of the cup, although I didn't see her pour anything into it. I think she made coffee appear in it out of sheer Dutch will.

As per usual, this train is stuffed with terribly tall attractive people and adorable children. A little girl sitting across from me (the daughter of the magical mug lady) is eating my favorite kind of Dutch biscuit, Sultanas, and reading a magazine. I want to steal her and take her home, but I think her mother would hit me with her plate. And that's Dutch china, that's no laughing matter.
So, the agenda for the day. I took the train from Heemstede to Amsterdam this morning, and am now on the train from Amsterdam to Eindhoven. I'll get the bus at Eindhoven station to Eindhoven airport, then a plane from Eindhoven to Milan Bergamo. A bus from the airport to Bergamo station, then a train to Brescia. Train from Brescia to Venice. Meet Rachel there.

Sounds simple enough. What could go wrong?

Gulp.

Tot straks!
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Welkom In Holland! (or, Why is everyone in this damn country so damn tall and damn attractive?)

Back in the land of stroopwaffels and eendjes. We're driving back from the mall, where my little brother wanted to look at new cell phones, but ended up not getting one. But we were in the HEMA (which is the closest you get to a Target or Kmart here) and he saw me looking at a tank top, and he snuck behind my back and bought it when I wasn't looking and gave it to me when we got out. He picked out the right size and color and everything. This is clearly why he is my brother: he's a savvy shopper.

In other news, the main radio station here is having an ABBA day. That's right: all ABBA, all day. Gotta love Dutch radio. This is their idea of cool. Also, my stepmom and brother are obsessed with Abercrombie and Fitch. They can't buy it here, but there are second-hand shops that sell Abercrombie. This has been the predominant topic of conversation for the past six hours or so.

Now I am watching my little half sister put my entire childhood to shame by being a badass at field hockey camp. Have I mentioned she sails and plays tennis too? So does my brother. Seriously, what happened to that gene for me? They're both super sporty and fit. I couldn't kick a soccer ball and I am physically unable to learn how to swim. WTF?

I always arrive when Bob and Amber are coming back from camp, and I usually go along to pick them up. The awkward thing is, they always have these ridiculously tall and attractive male counselors and I'm the dumb American who gets lost among the hockey fields. It's awful. I am the biggest dork in Holland. And that's saying something.

Venice tomorrow, though. And now I am going to go drown my awkwardness in Heineken with my stepmom. Awesome.

Tot ziens!

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Holland Tomorrow!

Woooo! Will miss Britain, but I'm coming back so not too sad. Had a great day at Bicester today; I so miss everyone at the Village. Also, now I have a new pair of Temperley trousers. And much love in my heart.

Real post coming soon, just as soon as I'm in Heemstede and have real internet.

Love,

Olivia
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On my way to Bicester Village!

...and I figured out how to blog from my BlackBerry. How cool am I?

I've been missing my job at Value Retail so badly lately, especially since I've been in England. Living in London is just not the same as living in North Oxford, taking the bus every day to a job you love, shopping at Tesco and generally being quiet and comfortable. Last summer I learned so much about myself and I credit much of that to the team at BV. I can't wait to see how things have changed since I was last there, and to see all my former coworkers!

Currently playing on my iPod: "The Long Way Around" by The Dixie Chicks. If you don't know this song, download it. I consider it an anthem for my life and for anyone who took the path less trodden.

Love,
Olivia
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