I see London, I see France...: A Brief History of Time . . .

PHRASE OF THE DAY
mon coeur: my heart

Wussup, internet people?

I have fanTAStic news! I applied back in February for the Resident Counselor position at Governor's School for International Studies (which I attended back in high school), and I just found out yesterday that I GOT THE JOB!!! It's 5 weeks at the University of Memphis!

I am so freaking excited! I figured this summer would be the best time for me to do it, because, after spending 9 months overseas, I will literally never be more prepared for the job than I am right now. It's international studies, guys. International.

So yeah! Super excited. I might even go so far as to say super duper excited.

--------------------------

So this was the last week of classes, which is also super awesome. And even though it's only Wednesday, I can say "was the last week of classes" because I don't have class on Thursday OR Friday! So it's the start of our Reading Week before the 3 week exam period to follow. For me, though, even though I took 7 classes, I only have 3 exams! (Since my other classes already did all the testing and essay writing and brain exploding this week.)

SO! Right now I'm a happier camper, a chipperer camper.

--------------------------

The past few days/week-ish, when I haven't been studying or writing essays or sleeping, I've spent some time hanging with my Canadians; lounging about, drinking balcony wine, and discussing theories of quantum physics and chaos theory mixed with a Sartre-influenced look at existentialism.

Most of the evenings end with joyous laughter and wonderful company, but one particular evening yielded something a little more substantial, a little more concrete, a lot more catchy.

Instead of telling you, why don't I just show you:

This song was totally improvised. The first time they sang it. Then about 17 tries later we got this little beauty.

So here's to Josh and Adrien. One day you'll be youtube famous, and I can say with an old-timey radio businessman voice "This is where you got your start, see. Gonna be big big stars one day! Gonna get your own picture show!"

That is my vision for the future.

--------------------------

Since I've been fairly busy with school, not much else has happened. But I recently came across several pictures from my phone and camera that didn't ever make it to the blogosphere. Fortunately for you, I feel they're worth sharing.

Fetch me my time turner!

We're about to get real nostalgic, y'all.

So when I first arrived in Nice, Helen and I explored a bit of the city, markets included. (Eat, Pray, Love)

I don't need to explain myself.

He doesn't call it posing. He calls it standing with STYLE.

Gringotts is in the building!
Or. . . Gringotts is the buiding.

Soon after arriving, classes started. Funny thing about the Fac. de Lettres, they don't have toilet seats. (Lost in Translation)

I feel like it's looking at me . . . angrily.

Remember that time I went crazy and killed an entire megalopolis of flies that had invaded my room uninvited? Though I risk you thinking this is gross, I just have to post this picture. (The Fly)

After the massacre . . .

Then there was the time I hiked all the way down a mountain in sandals cos I was looking for the bus stop. (Little Miss Sunshine)

This was the English group that passed me. So much gear.
I was well underprepared.

Later Helen and I made our way to Cannes, a thoroughly underwhelming city with fancy wall art and big dreams, but that about covers it. Here is a more savory taste of the movie-themed art we encountered. (Creature From the Black Lagoon)

I got a wonderful care package from my friends back home. This is Prince Charmander. He kept me company during the quieter times.

Then there was that time in the amphitheater when the gods of theatrical excellence poured their golden water of thespianism upon my tender head. Turns out there are so many pictures I didn't publish. (The Princess Diaries)

Pretty soonish after that Helen and I made our way to Grasse, the perfume capital of the world (I think). But I never got around to posting anything about it since I scooted off to the UK and lost all interest in smelling good things. So here are some pictures. It was pleasant. Rainy but pleasant.

At our hostel in Dublin, the stairs were really obnoxious. (The Holiday)

Saint Paul de Vence had creepy future toilets that clean themselves. (Contagion)

I also started cooking really awesomely, trying my hand at some typical French cuisine or literally anything over pasta.

La Salade Niçoise

Un Croque Monsieur (essentially)

Fancy pasta

Remember when my mom and Amy came to visit over Christmas? While sitting in a train station, we spotted a man who had recently gotten hair plugs taken from the back of his head and moved to the top. So naturally I took a picture. (Passport to Paris)

It's called crop rotation, guys. Don't judge. This is science.

The Geneva trashcans make a return appearance. (Willkommen, Bienvenue, Welcome)

"We're dirty and we don't wanna beee . . ."

Here's a secret: when I was having trouble finding people to travel with for spring break, in addition to asking around to see who else was traveling (which was probably the more reasonable of my actions) I also began crafting a PSA for myself. It was to be hosted by Sarah McLachlan, and it would feature Molly, the sad sad little exchange student suffering from bouts of cabin fever and loneliness. Though the PSA never reached completion, I did get about halfway finished before spring break plans were ultimately hatched with my Canadians. Let's just be happy it didn't come to this.

Now, you may be tempted to switch to another blog post,
and I know the majority of you will. Because who cares?
She's not your child, why should you care?

At the flower battle, we felt like veritable queens with our giant floral arrangements. Niks must have a distant royal bloodline, cos she took to it real fast. (Happiness is a warm run)

Mooore grapes, fair Nikita?

Our hostel in Lisbon was the cutest one yet. And their sense of humor was excellent. Very high brow. (Não falo português)

On the door of every locker

Some more from Cabo da Roca

Emily and I attempted to recreate a meal we had in Madrid. We were über successful. Round 2 is tomorrow night, y'all. (No hablo ethpañol)

One day, a wrong turn down an unfamiliar street yielded more than I was prepared to handle.

There's a snake on my boot!

These roller blading guys recently came out of hybernation, and they compete and do tricks on the promenade every single day. It's fun to watch while I'm running.

This morning when I came out of class, I noticed a door to my right. This door is not meant for thru-traffic, so there are signs all over it saying "Do not enter" "Don't open me" yadda yadda yadda. But there was one sign that caught my eye. It was super French.