The (Temporary, Highly Controversial, Unspeakable) End

I’m not a fan of endings.

For the longest time I’ve insisted that I came to Newcastle for the year because of Mum. Because of my passport. Because of the delightful weather.

But in all honesty it might have just been because I was terrified of it being over too quickly. Contrary to the countless stunned reactions I got when I decided to go abroad for the full year, I was never worried that a year was too long. I remember very clearly attending the varied information sessions about all of the incredible places that Loyola has study abroad programs- Auckland, Melbourne, Rome, Paris- but there was no amount of beachy pictures or promises of gelato that could outweigh being able to go abroad for the entire year. My reasoning was based on the very broad generalisation that “No one has ever said that they wished they had less time abroad” (which is most likely entirely untrue), and yet I’m thankful that at least no one ever said that to me, because there is nothing I wish less in the world than to have had less time abroad.

Regretfully, I haven’t written nearly as much this semester as I did the previous one- but in hindsight, I suppose I don’t regret it that much because it just means I was much more ‘immersed’. Looking back, first semester seemed like a practice for this one, which was full of more intense classes, tournaments, travels, and of course goodbyes. Nevertheless, I don’t intend on forgetting a single second of these past 4 months and so in aid of that purpose, here is an account of my final two months in Newcastle, England (written in the form of a ‘thank you’ note rather than a ‘goodbye’ letter):

Dear Belfast,

I like to think that I saw a good portion of the world this year. I frolicked through Europe, claimed Newcastle as my home, toured the entirety of England(‘s sport centres); and yet my tour of the UK wouldn’t have been complete without the unexpected joy I found in Northern Ireland.

One of my favourite aspects of this abroad program is that Loyola has an odd obsession with making sure we see every part of the UK- which is where Cardiff and Belfast come in. To Loyola’s credit, I had the opportunity to visit a lot of places this year that I never would have even thought of if the trip had not been organised for me (shout out to Wales). But unlike Wales, Northern Ireland decided to call in a miracle and let the sun shine for 3 days in a row (only if you’ve ever lived in the UK will you understand just how truly miraculous this was). So first and foremost, Belfast, all of the thanks in the world for that.

This weekend actually turned out to be one of my favourite trips that Loyola organised all year. Day one consisted of a tour of the Titanic museum- built in Belfast! (though I did find it bizarre that they built a museum to commemorate their biggest failure)- and then dinner in the centre of the city. The best part, however, was day two when we took an all-day bus tour of the coast and Giant’s Causeway. Despite the fact that it also happened to be the anniversary of the Easter Rising (hence the all-day coach outside of the city) the peace I felt exploring the Northern Irish coastline was unrivalled. If there’s one thing that I’ve learned this year from my travels, it’s that I would take a hike and a scenic view of the ocean any day over a busy, tourist-filled city. Not to say that I didn’t enjoy Europe’s greatest cities, but there was something so thrilling about scaling the sides of cliffs to get to the top of the causeway after months of climbing cathedral stairs. According to our enthusiastic, local tour guide (who not only spoiled several episodes of Games of Thrones for us, but was so distracted by the sun that he mentioned it approximately every two minutes) Giant’s Causeway is one of the ‘eight wonders of the world’, and it certainly got my vote. We also got the chance to cross the famous rope bridge across the cliffs (spoiler alert: featured in season six of Game of Thrones!!) and you can be really proud of us if you want, but don’t be fooled- it’s a really short bridge.

At the information meeting about this trip, our chaperone warned us to bring raincoats and flipped through slides with pictures of sunny Northern Ireland that read, “Google portrays Belfast as sunny, but I’m not convinced they’re not photoshopped”. So here ya go Loyola:

Thank you for showing me Newcastle, the (entire) UK, and the world.

Dear Pies,

I honestly don’t even know where to start. I owe my abroad experience to you.

From my freshers tournament at the beginning of the year, to our finish of 3^rd at Women’s Nationals, you have not only helped me become a better Ultimate Frisbee player, you have made me a better person. These past few weeks have been the most emotional as the season has slowly come to an end and people keep trying to say goodbye to me, but they were also my favourite memories by far.

When I was asked in February to play for the women’s indoor nationals team, ‘nervous’ was a laughable understatement. As someone who had only just learned to play in October, I was terrified to let down all of the other members of the team who had a significant amount of experience over me. Obviously it was an incredible honour to be playing on such a skilled team- and I had one pretty simple job (sprint)- but it wasn’t the fact that we won all of our games the first day that made me feel confident by day two. That team became a family for me in this foreign country, and by the time we were ready for outdoor nationals I was only feeling excited. Nationals in Nottingham turned out to be a crazy, whirlwind of a weekend that showed us a brilliant display of sun, rain, sleet, hail, and even a little bit of snow, but when we won against Leeds (the only team to beat us at regionals… and not in a close game by any means) I have never felt more proud to be a part of any team in my life.

Then came AGM- the Annual General Meeting- in which all of the committee positions were up for election and awards were given out for the year. As ‘leavers’, we were allowed to vote in the elections and even received gifts at the end, but it was definitely bittersweet to sit back and watch the future of the club planned without us. So, in an effort to never be left out, Sarah Hand and I decided in to run for our own made-up committee position: International Relations. Complete with an entire powerpoint presentation and social media campaign (#AmericanAmendment) we made our case to the committee to have this position added to the club constitution. Unfortunately, the amendment wasn’t passed because Newcastle (Will Mulvaney) takes Ultimate Frisbee VERY seriously, but they did vote unanimously to ‘humour us’, which was enough for me. They couldn’t stop me from relating internationally if they tried.

The final official Frisbee event was the Athletic Union Ball, which we refused to call by its real name, and instead referred to exclusively as “Frisbee Prom”. This was basically just an excuse for us to all dress up really nice and experience prom the way it should have been (with champagne and bumper cars). While it was a little overwhelming to eat dinner with the university rugby and football teams on either side of us, it was also just so cool to have the team recognised for the incredible efforts that everyone has made this year. We were nominated for ‘most improved team’ (which we lost to swimming, but last year I heard it was darts so that would have been worse). If it counts for anything, I wouldn’t have rathered to be on any other team. 

Now the season is technically over, but that hasn’t stopped us from throwing Frisbees any free second that we can or playing in the Newcastle Draft League every Tuesday, which is basically like middle school gym class for keen Ultimate Frisbee players. I joined this team as a way to fulfill my immersion project requirement and to try to show-up Tommy over the summer, but I honestly don’t know what I would have done without the Newcastle Pies. I don’t think it would be a stretch to say that I’ve been affected by every person on this team- whether it be through showing me how to throw a forehand, powering through 7 am trainings, long car rides to and from tournaments, dancing at Flares, or teaching me the true meaning of ‘keen’. You can all rest assured that my beautiful, new kit will be proudly worn in America (or proudly displayed on my dorm room wall, haven’t decided yet). I hate to say that I hope you don’t get new Americans next year that turn out to be even more stellar… but I truly hope you don’t.

Either way, thank you. You made England our home too.

Dear Amsterdam,

When I got home from my European travels I considered myself pretty much done with world adventuring, but of course we had saved the best for last. We decided to plan our trip to Amsterdam for a weekend in May so that we could hopefully experience some spring weather, but we had no way of knowing in March (sat in a hostel in Montpellier frantically scanning through flights on our smartphones) that we were picking the most beautiful weekend the world had ever seen. 80 degrees and sunny the entire time, we spent the whole time under blue skies and surrounded by bright, blooming tulips. I couldn’t help feeling a little sad that I wasn’t home with my mum for (American) Mother’s day giving her her own tulips, but luckily Belle had me covered. Meanwhile, my five friends and I wandered through the parks, museums, gardens, and canals of Amsterdam for two days.

It wouldn’t be an adventure without getting lost and confused at least once though. Our first night, determined to make the most of all of our time in the city and curious to gain some insight into Amsterdam’s mischievous reputation, the six of us threw our bags on our hotel beds, ran in the direction of the nearest public transport (a large bus station), and boarded the first bus that came. Despite the seemingly flawless nature of this plan and assurances from Andy who had been to Amsterdam before (once), we managed to end up at a train station 30 minutes from our hotel… and 30 minutes from Amsterdam. By now it was about 10pm but we were determined to make it to the city so we bought train tickets for Amsterdam Central and then waited for it to arrive. And waited. And waited.

It never arrived.

But never ones to accept defeat, we ignored the helpful advice of station information men who answered, “How do we get into Amsterdam?” with: “You don’t”, and boarded bus #2 and then #3 until FINALLY we made it to the centre of the city by about 11:30. Needless to say we needed a drink, some chips, and views of the canals- which lasted about an hour until we were exhausted and headed back home- but we had made it to Amsterdam…. and Haarlem and every neighbourhood in between.

The next day we woke up at 7 am to see the Anne Frank House and then explore Vondel Park and of course the ‘I Amsterdam’ sign. Only slightly disheartened by the fact that there isn’t a ‘J’ in Amsterdam, I took lots of pictures with the other arbitrary letters, all complete with random children (and men) climbing all over them in the background. What I really wanted to do was rent a bike, but that proved more difficult than expected, I suppose because it’s the main mode of transportation so they probably don’t want tourists blocking their bike paths all the time. We had a great time walking and eating along the canals though and I was just as happy about that. Our second night we explored the night life a little more- navigating our own cultured pub crawl of an Argentinian grille, a Cuban bar, and of course a traditional British pub. We saw the Red light District (for approximately 5 minutes) but it turns out all we really wanted was a cider and some fun cocktails.

When asked later by my Auntie Jean about which European city was my favourite out of all of my travels, she was shocked by my answer of Amsterdam: “Isn’t that a bit naughty?” And yeah, it is. But the Amsterdam that I loved was the city made up of canals, bike paths, tulips, and the most accepting atmosphere I have come across anywhere. I could have easily spent a week in Holland, but I’m glad that I got to at least spend that little bit of time revelling in the flowers and summer-esque weather.

Thank you, Amsterdam, for being my final and favourite destination in Europe. And thank you to my friends who made getting there as much fun as being there.

Dear Prentice family,

I am so thankful for the time I was able to spend with all of you, even if it was way too short! Walking around Lichfield with Grammy and Auntie Jean, it’s hard to believe that Mum grew up somewhere so beautiful- and so entirely different from me. I feel as though I know every bit of Lichfield’s history now (Dr. Johnston and Erasmus Darwin would be very proud). Grammy and I even got to skype the whole family back home and though that always makes me a little homesick, it was much easier with the other half of my family on the same side of the screen with me. 

Having been constantly surrounded by the Kenny family my entire life, ‘close’ is the only type of family I have ever known. I knew that getting the chance to visit you all here throughout the year was a major part of why I wanted to study abroad in England, but I never realised how much it would actually come to mean to me. Between my visit in February with Mum and Dad and my last visit to Lichfield by myself in May, at some point it stopped feeling like another trip and started feeling like going home. Despite the years and the distance, I felt so welcomed and comfortable being back in the place where Mum grew up. I’m so grateful for all of the lunches, the teas, and the hours spent just catching up; my biggest regret of this year is not being able to have visited more often. I finally understand where I get my obsession with cats, my love of tea rather than coffee, and most importantly, my crazy English mother.

Thank you for her, for the love you’ve shown me, (and obviously for my love of cats).

Dear Newcastle,

Obviously this entire blog is a personal ode to Newcastle, but I feel the need to highlight a few things that happened in the last weeks abroad that truly made me honoured to have called this city home for the year. I’ve come a long way in my relationship with Newcastle- from tirelessly explaining to fellow Americans that it was ‘kinda near Scotland, nowhere near London’ to exploring every inch of it with other uni students- but I don’t think I understood the true Newcastle until I was led around by real locals. I was recently lucky enough to be visited by a few friends from the camp I worked at last summer (representing Michigan, London, and of course Newcastle) and it happened to be exactly what I needed: a crazy combination of home, camp, America, England, and a few of the best people I have ever met.

Apart from the obligatory night out in Newcastle that everyone needs to experience at least once in life, one of the biggest highlights was Liz and I’s very first Newcastle United/ Premier League football match. For those who aren’t fanatic Geordie football fans, here is a bit of background on why this game was so inspiring:

Newcastle United- while supported by one of the largest fan bases in the UK and known for their die-hard sports fans- is not very good. In fact, this season they were relegated from the Premier League and so the match we attended was not just the final game in the season, but also their final game in the best football league in England. Put simply, emotions were running very high. In addition to all this, Tottenham (the opposing team) was ranked 2^nd in the League and needed (and expected) the win. Newcastle fans weren’t bothered by this, however, because they were so worried about their amazing manager- Rafa Benitez- leaving the team due to their relegation. So in the most touching display of fan support I have ever witnessed- and I’m not exaggerating- Newcastle fans chanted “Rafa Benitez, we want you to stay” for the entire 90 minutes of the match. I have literally no idea who this man is, but if he doesn’t stay with us after that I don’t know what could convince him.

Anyways, against all odds, (spoiler alert): WE WON! 5-1

I’ve always been a soccer fan but I have never been so utterly in love with the sport as I was in those final moments. The man next to us turned to Liz and I and kissed us both on the cheeks and yelled, “You are our American good luck charms! You can never leave!!” Now I can’t guarantee that my presence allowed Newcastle to miraculously win, but I can say that I no longer have any choice but to be a Newcastle United fan for life. Rafa might have bigger and better plans, but if given the choice, I would never leave.

Thank you to my wonderful friends for traveling across country for a few amazing hours, to Camp Starfish for bringing us together, to Newcastle for giving me new reasons to love it every single day, and to Rafa Benitez. (We want you to stay)

Dear Final Exams, 

I don't actually have much to thank you for, you're the worst. I am thankful, however, for the procrastination techniques that exams inspired and the beautiful adventures that came out of them. As mentioned in an earlier blog in January, British exams are just about any American student's worst nightmare- generally accounting for 60-100% of the final mark and taken in conditions similar to the SATs- but luckily I only had three to brave. In fact, perhaps the worst part was trying to study for these exams while also seeing post after post on social media of the beautiful beaches of Niantic, CT and the long-awaited return of the Dairy Queen s'mores blizzard. I also had to make sure that all other outstanding assignments were completed prior to leaving England because of my insane plans to return to summer camp in the middle of the woods 24 hours after stepping off of the plane from Heathrow. While it's still unclear whether this decision made in December during my concussion is the best or worst thing I've ever done, I know in my heart it will be the former. Getting over the heartbreak of leaving England will be one of the hardest things I've ever done, but if there's anywhere in the world that could put the pieces back together it's Camp Starfish. 

Stage one of the procrastination plan began with making a bucket list of things to do in Newcastle before leaving. This list included seeing the Angel of the North (pictured above), exploring Jesmond Dene (one of Newcastle's most scenic parks), and finally making it to Edinburgh just an hour away (and previously skipped in order to attend a frisbee tournament, oops). And I am proud to say that we did accomplish all of these things and more. In fact, each of these little trips became some of my favorite memories and they certainly helped to distract us from the ever-nearer departure date. Edinburgh in particular really blew me away with its beauty. Sarah and I spent most of the day climbing to the top of Arthur's Seat in our Converse and Toms (thank you to all of our Newcastle friends who assured us it was just a 'hill') but it was beyond worth it. Besides the fact that Sarah has an extreme fear of heights and every single other person on the mountain was 100% more prepared than we were, the views of the city on one side and the ocean on the other were amazingly beautiful. So thank you Scotland for that, and for being exactly what I needed. 

It's so hard to describe the feeling of leaving a place after a full year spent putting your heart and soul into adjusting to it. 

For me, Newcastle was always so much more than a geographic location in which to study. It was a place for new relationships, new passions, and new adventures. A place in which I both discovered my comfort zone and then broke out of it. A place in which I wasn't confined by anything but intrigued about everything. A place that felt both foreign and like home depending on the month, but in which I spent the best year of my entire life. If there is one thing that studying abroad has truly taught me, it's that heartbreak over a place is only due to having left pieces of your heart behind there, and Newcastle has been taking tiny pieces of my heart one by one over the past eight months and I don't expect to get them back when I leave. But that's okay by me. The person that I am sitting in Heathrow right now writing this is not the same person who sat here eight months ago, spending her first pounds on Starbucks and feeling like her heart would explode from beating so fast. I have loved deeper, worked harder, believed stronger, laughed longer, and adventured further than I could have ever imagined was even possible. It wasn't all a fairytale- change like this never is- but it was my version of one, because it was real and I lived it.

Our final nights in Newcastle didn't include very much sleep (I think the average for the week is about 3 hours a night) but there came a point where life got prioritised over being well-rested. Whether it was dancing in Flares until they kicked us out, running across the moor at 4:29 am to see the sunrise from the top of the hill, or hysterically crying in bed sandwiched in between my two best friends on our final night after saying goodbye to our friends, I would probably give up sleeping altogether if I could have just a few of those moments back.

There aren't enough thank you's in the world to account for all the people, places, and things that made this year a reality, but thank you Mum and Dad, for everything from answering my hysterical phone calls at 3 am to paying for my 65 pound fee for having an obscenely overweight suitcase on the journey home today. See you in a few hours at the Logan arrivals gate!!

Thank you to all of the incredible friends that I made this year, whether you were American, British, frisbee players, flatmates, or just people who made me feel welcome in this new place. I have never felt more loved in my entire life and I easily owe my abroad experience to the people who made it what it was. There are no words to describe the pain associated with this part of leaving, but I will say the main thing getting me through leaving is that I get to take two of those people home with me. Sarah and Lindsay, I couldn't have survived a day without you. Thank you for adopting me temporarily as your travel companion and forever as your best friend. I feel like one of the luckiest girls on the planet (and I've seen a lot of it now so I feel more justified saying it).

Thank you world for allowing me to explore you this year- nine European countries and countless beautiful cities later.

And thank you, Newcastle, for not just being the point of rest in between but the place to which I couldn't wait to get back. I have a feeling that won't change.

 

(I did warn you there would be no goodbye, so see you soon xx)

The Europe Blog

Since arriving in Newcastle, the anticipation for The Europe Trip was always high. Because of frisbee tournaments on weekends and (yes, sometimes) homework, my two friends and I decided that it was best to leave most of our travels for our "Easter holiday", also known to the American population as spring break. Spring break at Newcastle University is a month long holiday in which most students go home (which wasn't an option) or begin studying for finals (which was laughable) so instead, we went to Europe*.

*I am aware that England is in Europe but the general British population doesn't seem to feel the same way so I won't take that away from them

The third thing that most study abroad students did with spring break, however, was welcome their parents to the UK and I did that two months ago so I suppose I'll start there:

Tom and Jude Take England  

The build-up to Mum returning to the UK began the day I decided to study abroad here. She was hugely influential in convincing me that this is where I belonged despite my protests that I wanted to study in Australia and could visit England "any time". As always Mum was right and you can imagine how excited she was when I announced that I wanted to spend a full year abroad- mainly because it meant that she would be able to come along too.

I have been to England twice before that I remember, but the most recent trip was in 2006 so the Prentice family reunion was long overdue. It's bizarre being so close to my family in the States and hardly knowing my family across the ocean, funny that family relationships don't just come included with a dual passport. Aside from the brief moments of feeling like I was starring as Hallie in the Parent Trap, visiting with everyone in Lichfield was definitely one of my favorite memories from England so far. We were able to have a huge (very lively) pub lunch with nearly all of the cousins, aunts, uncles, and of course Grammy who brought everyone together, and stayed nearly past dinner! It's an incredible feeling to be so loved by so many people that I haven't seen in years and years, but if there is anything that visiting Lichfield showed me it's that England can always be my home if I want it to be. And I like those options.

The final stop on the Kenny tour of England (in which I was included) was a road trip up to my favorite windy corner of the UK: Newcastle upon Tyne. I still had classes to attend and Mum and Dad still had places to see so their time here was short but it was so fun to show them around my home. Dad was able to get his runs in on the moor while I gave mum a tour of my city, my accommodation, and of course my school! ... which became more than she bargained for when we stepped out of the student union to find the entire frisbee team gathering in support of a campus event. Never to be outdone, however, in typical Jude fashion, she simply smiled and stopped our president from introducing everyone by saying, "Oh don't worry! I know all of you from your Facebooks!". Needless to say, she is now up by a few more Facebook friends.

On their last night in Newcastle I took Mum and Dad down to the quayside for the necessary picture on the Millennium Bridge. Mum always jokes that I'm so keen to miss her until she's actually there, but their trip to England was genuinely one of the best parts of my year here. Getting to show my British mum around her own country was a privilege that not many kids can say they have, and I'm so grateful to have parents that would cross the Atlantic ocean in the middle of February for me. See you in two months friends xx

                                      


Jessie Takes the World 

So quite a few things happened between my parents' visit and The Europe Trip- I visited Cardiff for 48 of the wettest hours of my life, my best friend Sarah Hand turned 21 years old, and our women's frisbee team qualified for division 1 nationals at a regional tournament in Leicester- and all of those things are beautiful memories. The memories I need to record before they slip away from my mind or become too tainted by nostalgia, however, are the ones I made during my 3 weeks of European travel. So here they are:

It all began in Paris. As I've mentioned in previous posts, Loyola has made us pretty spoiled abroad by organizing a few trips throughout the two semesters in which everything is completely planned and "paid for" (by our $60k tuition) and the most anticipated one was The France Trip. Over the course of 8 days, 50 Loyola students took on the entirety of France, beginning in Paris and making our way all the way down to Nice. Though I'm not a huge proponent of large group outings- especially in foreign countries in which a majority of the group speaks no French and carries selfie sticks- this trip was actually really well organized considering the circumstances. In each place we visited we stayed in hostels in the center of the city, and though I was forced to make more friends than my comfortable two by sleeping in rooms of 10 girls, it became apparent very quickly how lucky we were to have had Loyola arranging our accommodation as soon as we were on our own (see Rome and Florence).

Perhaps one of the greatest things that Loyola has ever done for us was buying each student the Paris Pass, which meant we got free transport and admission into all major attractions in the city for the 3 days that we were there. They also provided several fancy, three-course meals (a little too fancy for this small town, picky eater) among which were snails and other French delicacies that I was told by Loyola representatives that I would "regret if I didn't try at least once" but alas, I still sleep at night. Shoutout to Lindsay for being the fearless member of the group who would try absolutely anything, and to Sarah for being my five-year-old taste buds companion and even trying some things that I never would. This trip taught me many valuable things about friendship, but mainly just that complementary eating habits are the easiest ways to gain best friends.

In between the incredible amounts of eating and sleeping necessary to survive this trip, we were able to see all of the City of Love. On day two we explored the palace of Versailles, wandered the halls of the Louvre, cruised the Seine, and ended the day with ice cream in front of the Eiffel Tower in what we thought was the perfect way to end the perfect day- only to realize a few hours later that our actual dreams were to see it lit up, ensuing a mile run from the metro stop in order to be there at exactly 10pm when it began to sparkle. The next day was just as full of tourism- visiting the National Opera House, the Notre Dame Cathedral, and of course the Arc de Triomphe (which we had the privilege to climb by way of the longest spiral staircase I have ever seen and the most embarrassing fall I have ever taken at the top when my legs gave out)- but it was pretty hard to top the magic of our first day in Paris. We left France's greatest city exhausted, full of ice cream and crepes, and zealous for our next adventure. But is there really any better way?

The next stop on The France Trip was the south of France, Montpellier. Now if you've been following any of our other adventures across the UK you know that we're not actually very good at traveling (throwback to learning to nap in between London tube stops and the ideal 36 hour trip to Dublin). But if this trip has taught me anything about myself, it's that I am much more comfortable in situations where I can establish more a "normal" routine. In the case of Montpellier, it was waking up at 7am with Lindsay for runs around the aqueduct, day trips with Loyola to nearby French cities, and then a solid choice from our european diet of either apples with peanut butter, crepes, or gelato for dinner. The city itself was so picturesque and walkable in contrast to Paris and the first place we experienced real sun!! Despite the fact that we were now finding ourselves in a lot more uncomfortable situations in which the only words we could utter were "bonjour" or "merci", I loved every minute that we spent in beautiful Montpellier.

If the Paris passes were the best thing Loyola ever did for us, then Xavier was a close second. Xavier was the tour guide that Loyola hired to show us around the south of France from the second we stepped off of the train in Montpellier to the second we boarded a coach for Nice. Though I think it may have been a slightly one-sided affection between our group of rowdy American college students and this expert in medieval art (praying for us to have just one question about the medieval frescoes in the Palais des Papes) but we honestly could never have survived without him. Whether it was a 9 am coach to Avignon in the pouring rain, exploring an ancient colosseum in Nimes, wine tasting at Chateau-Bas d'Aumelas, or hiking 50 students up a mountain at Saint Guilhem le Desert- Xavier was always there with his impeccable scarf selection and nearly-comprehensible French accent. There were a couple times in which the language barrier proved to be an obstacle (or simple American body language, aka zoning out, for which Lindsay received very concerned looks on numerous occasions from our tour guide). I think in the end we visited 6 different towns in those 3 days and even got some free, authentic French wine out of it, so naturally I was very pleased.

Loyola really did save the best for last, though. The final stop on the whirlwind France Trip was Nice. Now I'll save everyone the terrible puns, but this was by far one of the nicest cities I have ever been to. Sarah made the comment that it "looked like Disney World" to which I replied "maybe Disney World looks like Nice?" and then we jointly agreed that someday we will bring our future children back just so that they can see the real thing first and never have the same confusion. Our beach hostel- though a topic of heated conversation amongst the group due to the assignment of 10 girls to one shower and 3 outlets per room- was ideal for exactly what it promised in the name. During the 2 days we spent in Nice, we took a train tour of the city (though "train" is a strong word for glorified trolley), biked along the coast twice without accident, and got brilliantly sunburned on the beach for hours. After a week of non-stop tourism and jumping from place to place, I can't even describe how amazing it was to lay by the Mediterranean Sea and watch my pale, English skin turn red and freckly. I have a suspicion that the feeling was mutual because that night students and chaperones alike turned the hostel into a Loyola bar as we celebrated the end of an amazing trip (and for the chaperones, successful evasion of any major disaster). I may only seem to have two friends most of the time, but that night I was so happy to be a part of this crazy, dysfunctional 50-American program. 

And then it was time for us to flee the nest and explore the world on our own- on to Barcelona! This was exciting mainly for two reasons: we were staying with Lindsay's flatmate, Marta, which meant real beds (!!!) and I finally got to use my 13 years of español (except not because we picked the only city in Spain that actually speaks Catalan lol). That was okay though due to the former comment, and over the course of 5 days we made our way through Barcelona led by our amazing, fluent, local tour guide. We got super lucky in that all but one of the days was beautifully sunny so we were able to explore both the touristy attractions and the traditional neighborhoods all while wearing sun dresses and- as Mum pointed out- the first absence of my scarf. As I found before with Xavier, you get so much more out of cities when you tour them with a local who can point out all of the culturally significant things that we simply would have missed on our own. We saw La Sagrada Familia cathedral, the National Museum of Art of Catalunya, the beach, the (only) Dunkin Donuts, and of course the enchanting Park Guell, in which we spent 4 blissful hours taking in the sun and reading our books. From the artwork of Gaudi to the best tapas, Marta ensured that every second of our trip was spent immersing ourselves into Spanish culture.

As you can probably guess, the food was perhaps the most difficult aspect of this process, and I could probably write an entirely separate blog on the horrible eating habits of Sarah Hand and I. Nevertheless, the taste tests continued and luckily Lindsay was there to eat absolutely anything Marta ordered for her in a foreign language. To Marta's credit, she put up with our orders of pizza and pasta with only a few stifled laughs and even managed a smile as she asked one of our waiters for tap water, to which he made a disgusted face and said something snarky in Spanish (later to be translated as "only if they want diseases"). "They don't mind", replied our loyal friend. And here I am, still alive to tell the tale.

Perhaps the best part of that week was the feeling of being in a home and part of a family again. As soon as we walked through the door on Sunday night, Marta's mum took all of our laundry and insisted that she would wash it for us. She also proceeded to make us dinner each night (which even Sarah and I couldn't turn down because it was so phenomenal) and though she didn't speak any English, she never failed to say "hello" each time she saw us. I would be remiss if I didn't also mention Bimba, their adorable, miniature dog who greeted us at the door with kisses and love every morning. When we departed Barcelona we left a note for their family- written partially in high school Spanish and partially in whatever Google Translate could come up with- expressing our deepest gratitude for putting up with us all week. Signed with love, their 3 American friends.

And then things got interesting. Then we were really on our own and we were taking on Rome for Easter weekend. Now, at first glance that seems like the best idea in the whole world right? What could possibly go wrong while visiting Rome for the busiest weekend in the entire calendar year?? Well, dedicated readers hanging off the edges of your seats, lots of things. The good news is that we are all safe and full of pizza and gelato and holiness. However, here's what happened in between:

We arrived at the Rome airport at 11 pm on Good Friday, yawning and blurry eyed, ready for bed. What we weren't ready for was the influx of Italian taxi drivers who wanted to usher us into cars and capitalize on our inability to neither communicate nor understand what they were saying. 50 euro and approximately 10 minutes later, we arrived at "Camping Village Roma", which is where silly American girls who book accommodation for Easter weekend in Rome stay. Being too late for regular check-in, we were directed to our "bungalow" (what Lindsay has deemed a "glorified tool shed with a bathroom") and immediately three things became apparent: we had no electricity, we had an ant problem, and we had no idea what to do. So, like the good girl scouts we are, we surveyed our surroundings and attempted to come up with a plan. In the end we actually had 3 (all to Lindsay's credit): A) wait until morning B) randomly flip switches on the fuse box or C) try to scrape together enough Italian to ask the security guard for help. Plan A was thrown out immediately on account of needing to charge phones, and when plans B and C both failed to resolve the issue we all just laid in bed and texted our respective mums hoping to at least get some sympathy for our sorry selves. New text message from Mum: "All part of the adventure my love haha gotta take the rough with the smooth *kissing emoji*"... and a picture of a box of Goldfish she found in Walmart.

I'm almost hesitant to continue the story because we made a pact that night that we would never tell, but everyone deserves the laughter in their lives. 40 minutes after we asked the security guard for help and had just about given up for the night, he arrived at our door again. In one quick motion he removed the massive curtain from the wall to reveal a slot in which to put the key card and suddenly, there was light. Though this neglected to fix the ant problem or console our egos, it was a start. We ended up pushing the two twin beds together in the middle of the room and sleeping horizontally all together that night but we made it! And thankfully from there things only got better. The next day began at 8 am thanks to our morning point-person Lindsay and we managed to see the Vatican Museum, the Sistine Chapel, the Roman Forum, Palatine Hill, and the Colosseum, which are all just as impressive and radiative of history as they sound.

However, the coolest part of Rome, in my personal opinion, was actually none of the above. In fact, it was the only unplanned part of the day but it turned out to be the best part of the trip. One of my closest friends at Loyola happens to be studying abroad in Rome for the semester and decided to text me as we were happily eating pizza before heading back to CVR, advertising the "best views in Rome". The exhaustion in me begged for sleep but Sarah played the "we're studying abroad and visiting Rome for 3 days" card so we all rallied and met Joey Dwyer for what were absolutely the most spectacular views of any city to which I've travelled. Sitting on his rooftop, watching the sunset and drinking wine, is one of the best memories I have of Europe. And it was only made better by the fact that he then took us on a crazy nighttime adventure to the Trevi Fountain, Pantheon, and even a cat sanctuary made of the ancient ruins surrounding the area where Caesar was stabbed by Brutus (which I didn't believe either until it was verified by Joey Dwyer, Trip Advisor, and the dozens of cats living there).

The next morning we woke up at 7 am to attend the papal mass at the
Vatican for Easter. Unfortunately, while the Catholic girl in me was super excited by this, that was also the main reason I was a little disappointed by the tourist trap that became St. Peter's Square and the spectacle that replaced the traditional mass I was hoping for. People showed up in jeans and sweatpants and held selfie sticks in one hand, cellphones in the other. While it was incredible to see the new Pope that I have come to admire so much, I do wish that I could have attended a more traditional mass while in Rome. I hardly consider myself a conservative person, but it was definitely a little sad to be in the minority of people concerned enough to even put on a skirt or mouth the prayers. That by no means put a damper on Easter for us though, and we had a great time wandering the city and eating gelato in the pretty new dresses we had bought for the occasion. If nothing else, we now know that Lizzie McGuire is a reliable source and Rome proved its magic in every way imaginable.
                                                  

And if you are still with me at this point, (first of all, thank you wow) I imagine that you are quite tired just from reading this so imagine how we felt on day 17 when we arrived in the final destination (for me anyways, my friends continued on to Vienna and Budapest)- Florence. The good news is, the adventure never stops! and by that I simply mean we still managed to mess things up and get hopelessly lost in a city in which none of us spoke the language. 

On Monday night we boarded a MegaBus in Rome that got us into Firenze at about 9 pm and we were just so thrilled to be sleeping in real beds free of ants, stains, and any other fun byproduct of camping that we didn't really care too much what the hostel looked like... though we probably should have checked further that it was one. Instead what we found after 30 minutes of aimlessly wandering the- admittedly beautiful- streets of Florence was a man's apartment consisting of three bedrooms and a single bathroom. As we walked into the "office" that was a hallway with a folding table in it, it already felt a bit like Taken but it was just one night and I mean hey, no ants. Once the man had us sign a contract in Italian and totaled the cost of the room on the calculator app on his phone, he showed us to our room and we were alone to simultaneously freak out and learn how to function the locks on the door (which backfired when we basically locked ourselves in). After a few deep breaths, we found ourselves some food and settled in for my final night in Europe. 

Sarah decided that in order to make my 24 hours in Florence worth it, I needed to get to the top of the Duomo Cathedral before my flight back to the UK at 1 pm. So in the most brilliant display of friendship this world has ever seen, both of my friends woke up at 7 am the next morning and we were outside the Duomo by 8:45, ready to climb the 463 steps to the top. Now, at this point we have already scaled some pretty impressive things during this trip- the Arc de Triomphe in Paris, the mountain in St Guilhem le Desert, the Castle Hill in Nice, Palatine Hill in Rome- so we figured we would be able to conquer this tower at a brisk pace in order to get back to check out with sketchy "hostel" man at 10 am. In these fantasies, however, we failed to account for the millions of other people who had the same idea and were also trying to use the single spiral staircase to the top. So in the end we made it to the top in a record-breaking 45 minutes, with approximately 5 spent at the top, and made it to check out at 10:04 am. And if that's not impressive enough, here's some pics from the top:

    

Though I was literally only there for a few hours, I think that Florence was probably my favorite city out of them all and it's pretty easy to see why. "Ciao" was definitely the hardest goodbye to say. 

Home 

It's funny, because the whole time that I was in Europe I kept texting Mum and saying "I miss home", but I wasn't referring to the one on the other side of the Atlantic ocean and I think she knew that. It's not that I don't miss my real home- I do, every single day- but while I was traveling there was a definite part of me that just yearned to be back in my little city in Northeast England where the sun is temperamental and the language is (most of the time) recognizable. I flew back to London and headed off on an entirely different adventure in Cardiff for a frisbee tournament. We played with a team based in Newcastle called "The Brown" and won 6 out of 7 games which was really exciting! Though this was hardly the rest my body was aching for, we managed to spend two gorgeous days in Wales and even got a little bit more sunburned, which was welcomed openly. Then on Sunday, April 3rd - day 22 of travel- I went home. 

And so here we are. Classes begin again tomorrow for what the Brits call "semester 3" and life has become roughly normal again. I can't pretend that traveling the world was easy- as I have come to realize, I am not a good traveler. I get tired easily, I like alone time, and I rely solely on my knowledge of English and prayers that others will too. Luckily, I found the two people in the world who will wake up early everyday so we don't have to go to bed late. The two people who will be happy to eat lunch in the form of an apple and dinner from a grocery store. The two people who will sit on a beach or a bench or a bed for hours and just read a book, or better yet just sit there. My favorite memories of the world have been made with these two people and I honestly owe it all to them. 

The Europe Trip has taught me innumerable things about myself, the world, and everything in it. I would say it was the best three weeks of my life, but as I've come to learn from my travels, never underestimate life. It has a way of just getting better.  

For anyone who missed the beautiful video that my friends made or are hoping for a more condensed version of my travels, here's the highlights :)

Finals, Frisbee, and Feeling Okay

I'm back! (and admittedly have been for the past month and a half)

My excitement to return to Newcastle after my three-week Christmas break in America was unparalleled and, as was expected, life in England is still just as thrilling as it was last semester. What I wasn't expecting, was the increased difficulty that this transition proved to be in comparison to our first arrival in September. While we were all anxious to get back to our new lives full of sports, friends, and adventures both within Newcastle and beyond, the British education system had different plans for us. Nevertheless, we survived!! And now as a proud second-semester fresher at Newcastle University I'm beyond ready to start all over again.

(Finally) here's Newcastle: Part Two


Revision, Reading, and Other Things I Should Have Done Last Semester 

Coming to England I was very aware that this year was going to be a significant change academically. Newcastle University is a much larger school than Loyola, I spend much more of my time doing "independent study" (mainly of the characters of Downton Abbey), and the assessments are less frequent but worth much more. Perhaps I fell into the trap of thinking that study abroad is supposed to be an easier year or I just largely underestimated the stress that an exam worth 100% of your final grade could induce, but nonetheless when final exams began on January 18th it was a HUGE wakeup call.

There are a few reasons for this:

1.) Christmas "Break"
While I have found very little fault with the British education system, if the Queen were to give me the chance to fix one thing about my experience in England it would definitely be the placement of exams after the winter holiday. As a spoiled American used to being done with exams before Christmas, it was especially hard to try to force myself to revise (another fun British word for "studying") while all of my other friends were relaxing and focusing on the upcoming semester. While I immensely enjoyed being home for three weeks, I think if I were to break down my activities it would look something like this:

2.) Minor Traumatic Brain Injury 

This is just a fancy and over-dramatic way of saying that I got a concussion playing ultimate frisbee before coming home for Christmas. As silly as this sounds, this meant that all driving, exercising, tv watching, studying, focusing, and general functioning was off-limits to me which made for a pretty sad holiday season. That being said, I consider myself extremely lucky that it happened when it did and that I had my lovely family around constantly to take care of and entertain me (however voluntary it may or may not have been). Rest assured, this in no way altered my keenness for the sport that nearly cost me all my grades. 

3.) Invigilators and Examinations 

Luckily, when it came time for the actual exams I was feeling much better, but this didn't help the fact that exams at a large university are basically like the SATs on a more stressful scale. In comparison to the 12-student rooms supervised by familiar professors in which I was used to taking exams, the exam venues filled with hundreds of students and monitored by "invigilators" reading off scripted instructions was a little bit of a shock. The university gave us nearly three weeks for finals though, which was both a blessing and a curse because I was able to travel to Southampton for an awesome weekend but it also just prolonged the inevitable stress. 

The good news? As of two weeks ago (and 2 months later than everyone else) exams are over. Fully rested, over-enthusiastic, and with a properly functioning brain, I am officially in semester two!!

My Personal Immersion Project 

Anyone who has followed this blog in the slightest knows that what began as my attempt at joining a club in Newcastle has turned into my new obsession: ultimate frisbee. Despite my recent injury status (and scoldings from my doctor) I have continued to play since returning to England, playing in two incredible tournaments recently. 

The first, Mix and Mingle, was a mixed gender tournament in Sheffield that we got invited to as part of a team called "Charlie's Angels", named after our captain Charlie (who coincidentally also owns a shirt that us Loyola students found offensive so we made our own geographical inaccuracies). 

 

When we're not making jokes at each other's expense, however, we do actually play some impressive frisbee together and I couldn't have asked for a better group of people to train, travel, and sleep on random floors with across the UK. 

The following weekend, in a spontaneous turn of events, I was asked to play with the Newcastle women's team at Nationals in Glasgow which was yet another really cool experience. Our team went into the tournament seeded #1 and ended up as 7th, but the outcome was really irrelevant in terms of how hard the team worked and how incredibly proud I was just to be a part of it. While I'm not sure that this is the type of cultural immersion that Loyola had in mind for me, I can't imagine my time abroad without it or the people that I've met as a result. Now that indoors is done it's time to start looking forward to the outdoor season (which in my opinion should be outlawed in North East England) but I'm mainly just excited for what other crazy things this team has in store for us. 

Feeling Okay

I refuse to admit that I'm already halfway through my time here. It's a weird combination of feeling like I only just got here but also like I've lived here forever- and for this reason we don't let each other discuss it very much. It's come up more lately though because it's time to plan our travels for the spring! So far this includes an 8 day trip through France, 5 days in Barcelona, Easter in Rome, and then a quick night in Florence. We're also hoping to get to Amsterdam for a weekend when it gets warmer. For me though, I'm trying to make sure I have just as many weekends in Newcastle as I do away from it. Coming to terms with the end of the semester means accepting that in a few months I won't walk outside to frozen fingers, gusty winds, and grey skies, and that to me is not okay.

A few weeks ago we welcomed the spring semester students from Loyola (one of my best friends, Kathleen, amongst them) to Newcastle and it was extremely bittersweet. While I'm beyond happy to be done with finals and getting settled into my new classes (though you'd never be able to tell from my "first day of school" face) I would very much like time to stop right here. Fortunately for all of us, we are still three months and a whole lot of adventures away from any type of goodbye's and can focus on these happy hello's for now. 

I do also think it's important to note that study abroad is not always winning frisbee tournaments, attending fancy dress socials, and smiling in front of pretty buildings. Studying abroad has been one of the most rewarding but challenging experiences of my life- studying for final exams with a concussion in a foreign country certainly wasn't ideal- but ironically it's what has led me to appreciate being here even more. 

If I can manage to love England- rain, headaches, stress, and all- 

That's okay by me.