Cooking in Cambridge

Just a reminder I've moved!

2009-10-08T12:36:00.001-07:00

I'm over at http://CookingInCambridge.Wordpress.com

MOVING!

2009-10-04T12:47:00.001-07:00

Hey guys!

So this blog builder (whatever that's called) is a bit tedious and clunky.

I've moved over to http://cookingincambridge.wordpress.com/

Which is a bit easier to use.

So follow me there :)

I have never been a late night kinda gal...

2009-10-04T03:09:00.000-07:00

There are no actual classes at Cambridge.

There are lectures, which anyone can attend, at any point, anywhere. As one grad student noted yesterday, "They say you can even go to the medical one where they cut up bodies if you want." Of course, I responded. Of course I want to go.

This is Cambridge. Wow. (All the pics included in this post are leeched from google. I didn't take my camera with me running. I have been a touristy failure. FAIL.)

School hasn't even officially started and already I know it will challenge me in entirely new ways. The course structure is unlike anything in America. Instead of sitting in classrooms with 20 other students, I will be sitting in "supervisions" with a peer, a professor and my paper. Wow.

Wow.

My room is slowly but surely coming to. I found bed sheets and towels between meetings yesterday. Brian took me to buy a phone and showed me the nearby Cambridge Market. "It's not quite a farmer's market," he explained as we walked by fruits, cheeses, vegetables, food stands and soap vendors. "But it is here every day."

Last night I attended the graduate student movie-and-popcorn affair instead of the Cambridge Fresher's Fancy Dress (costume) J for St. John's party and pub crawl. This will undoubtedly surprise those back home, who know I love my ale as much as I love my mathematics. ... and my late nights... and spiders.

Meeting other graduate students instantly humbled me. One was studying Babylonian languages. Another was working on his post-doctorate examination physics. Me? "I'm from Omaha, Nebraska. We have corn."

"Try this. It's kettle corn. It's sweet. Not salty." Yes, I did bring kettle corn to the graduate mixer. And yes, I did force that darn corn on unsuspecting graduate students from all over the world. They ate every last kernel.

After a somewhat rough night of sleep, I forced my cold bones out from under my now-sheeted blanket and pulled on my running shoes, preparing for my very first Cambridge jog. Although the cold temperatures made moving difficult, once I was out running along the river, nothing could stop me.

Rowers out for early morning practice

Cambridge is a beautiful place to run. I gave up on my map immediately, as few of the streets are actually marked and my sense of direction has always been terrible. Instead, I just headed in one constant direction. I passed rowers slipping along the river, their breath rising in the cold morning air. Weeping willows nodded sleepily into the water.

Bridge of Sighs, which is in the middle of St. John's campus

The sun was just rising (because yes, thank god, there is sun) and occasionally I would move through little bubbles of orange-lit warmth. For a while I trailed a couple who had an unleashed scottish terrier trot-trotting perkily alongside.

Scottish Terrier, a la Lady and the Tramp

My run finished at the market, where I bought a bag of farm-fresh apples with the currency of the Queen. I found a cup of black coffee and sipped it as I walked back to St. John's. At 9 a.m., church bells began to till and chime loudly, echoing off buildings and crashing through alleyways until the music came from all around.

This is my home. For two years, this is my home. It may be cold, rainy and heavily-accented, but it is my home.

I am so lucky.

Side notes: I ran by Abbey Road. I think I may pick up rowing. The activities fair is on Tuesday, so I'll know more then. Brrrrr.

England

2009-10-02T08:52:00.000-07:00

Wow.

I am here. Finally. I am finally in England. Goodness knows it took a dramatic force of effort these last couple weeks to make the old show happen.

Proof I am still alive... and that my room needs sprucing.

Long story short, there was some difficulty obtaining my visa. My first application was denied, which resulted in many tears, gnashing of teeth and all around stomping of feet. I haven't been so frustrated in over a year, not since handling all the logistics of Leia in the legal system after mum's death. Suffice to say that sometimes, bureaucracy is a bit awful.

View from dorm. Most freshers have family helping them move in.

Thanks to amazing efforts by both Cambridge and Creighton, my second visa application was rushed through the system. A process that is supposed to take upwards of three weeks took three days. I have some pretty amazing people behind me.

Another view from Ye Olde Dorm

So! I got my visa. Then I got on the plane. Then I got back off the plane, because the first flight I booked (which technically was the second. First one was scheduled to leave weeks ago) had some sort of mechanical plane hooblah nonsense. At the risk of electrocuting us, the pilot recommended we stay grounded for a couple hours. That meant I missed my connecting flight to Chicago.

Better believe I caught the first coach to Cambridge!

Third time's the charm, though. I finally caught a plane out of Omaha, travelled to Chicago, ate copious amounts of veggies in the process, hopped on another flight, watched a really awful movie (transformers? Why did I think I'd even remotely enjoy that?) and arrived in London.

Flying over the city made me grin, feeling like a little kid popping into Hogwarts and High Fashion all at once. I hopped a coach (BUS!) to Cambridge, half-dozing as the sun rose over ridiculously green grass. A cabby took me to St. John's propper.

Bed area needs serious help. No sheets. Nuffin :/ YET!

I walked through the entrance, tugging and pulling two years worth of luggage over uneven cobblestone. A scottish man looked at me from behind the desk. "Ello!" That's when he started to speak fast and I ceased to understand. Accents are interesting.

Fortunately, Brian Biggs (last year's winner of the Davies-Jackson) is smart... smart enough to realize how absolutely exhausted, bleary and generally incoherent I would be at this point in my journey. He left a note with Sir Scottish Man that said to contact him upon the arrival of one Miss D.D. Mercer (me. That's how they write my name here. D.D. ... eee.)

My bedroom view

Energetic and equipped with college know-how, not to mention arms made strong from rowing, Brian helpfully guided both my bags and me around campus. I was paraded through a series of rooms and filled out a good many forms. Library card, gym membership, buttery card (aka dining hall, I think), first born child, I signed for it all and was handed pamphlets of What-To-Do-TODAY in return.

There's a lot to do today.

I'm headed off for a formal dinner this evening, followed by a wine 'n cheese with some grad students, a chilling-at-the-college-bar with some undergrad students, and possibly a movie night with some international students. As a Davies-Jackson scholar, I fall into all and none of these categories at once. I'm thrown somewhere between. It's confusing, but as Brian mentioned earlier, it's also pretty amazing.

Now that my luggage is tucked safely behind closed doors and I have napped for an hour or so, I feel ready to embark on the next step of my Cambridge journey. I need to start decorating my room stat. It's as simple as dorms can be. Any suggestions?

My current closet situation: all over the floor.

And here's a random highlight of my day: a little surprise was waiting for me in my pigeon hole (mailbox). Someone annonymously wrapped up a book on baking tarts, with a postcard saying 'Welcome to Cambridge.' I wonder who...

I think I'm gonna like it here.

A love song for Omaha

2009-09-16T04:05:00.000-07:00

Nebraska.

Getting excited about all the Halloween displays already out

Welcome to Nebraska. Home of Arbor day. Home of GO BIG RED Husker football. Home of... Well, shoot. Let's just call it home.

After flying for roughly 32 hours, I was grateful to see Lisa's ever-chipper smiling face at the airport. She kindly ignored my unshowered-girl stink and herded me outside, baggage in tow.

"The air." I gasped. "You can smell the air. It has smells."

Lisa smiled politely, laughed a bit, and popped me into the car. We were off. I was in Omaha.

For those of you who don't know, Omaha is the nation's 40th largest city (oh thank you, wiki, for completely irrelevant facts). Founded along the Missouri River, it's tucked into the quaint 'n charming great ol' American midwest. There's lots of grass, cows, corn, cows, corn and huskers. That's Omaha.

Now imagine this. Times a million. That's Nebraska on game day. Thanks internet!

What wiki and Omaha's visitors website fail to capture is the true charm of this little place. Before leaving for Doha, I was spoiled. I expected that there would be fat squirrels chasing after my Clif Bars (a la Creighton University) and women chasing after my newly-purchased shoes.

Beautiful mural located down in the Old Market

Having lived in the Middle East, I know such assumptions are ill-founded. What is here in Omaha really is unique. My first morning back, I went on a 2.5 mile walk to the much beloved Super Target. I couldn't stop grinning. The grass was green, bright and dark and smelling freshly of earth. There was a sky, one blue with almost stupidly fluffy clouds, not bleached by a harsh desert sun. Birds chirped. Crickets and cicadas whispered from the corners, all creating the swooping sound of nature. An occasional breeze brought the slightest hint of autumn's chill right up against my face.

Enjoying Jason's Deli with one of my favs :)

Omaha.

Since then, I've gone on many of these long walks. My initial intense wonder (what I imagine using acid might be like?) has faded into something more constant and quiet: absolute adoration. Omaha truly is a beautiful place. With its rolling green hills and its four seasons, with the leaves of trees already tinged with reds and berries, with its farms crouching close at the city's limits, it drips its own unique splendor.

Part of the Labor Day parade: Tractors

Another charm of the big ol' Nebraska, and Omaha in particular? There are women. Women in the stores. Women in the streets. Women with their lil babies screaming at the grocery store. ...nix that last one. But there are women. After spending three months in a region where ladies are few and far between, I am constantly struck by the wonder of seeing gals out and about. Suddenly, I'm not a rarity, an oddity. I am just one of many others, and I am perfectly a-ok with that.

Part of the Labor Day Parade round II: Cars with singing fish

I love being back. Bet you couldn't tell.

Having only three weeks in Omaha before shipping out to Cali has made my time here both extra precious and a bit sad. Everything I so adore (read: Jason's Deli, Whole Foods, good people) will soon be gone. For the first time in a very long time, I feel like I finally have found a home. Thanks to Creighton, my close friends, my professors, and all those other amazing individuals (you know who you are), I have a little niche that is mine, a place where I feel not only comfortable but also loved.

Marco loves a lil lovin'

Rather than dwell on the sad aspect of my imminent departure, I've been spending these last couple weeks enjoying my favorites. I've visited several farmers' markets (both here and in Lincoln). I've seen friends out the wazoo (which gives me a great excuse to eat at all my favorite places, especially because they've usually been willing to drive my car-less tush around). I've even popped up to Creighton a couple times, riding in with Lisa. I still love Creighton. Go there.

Downtown. Pic from internet.

So that's Nebraska. I'm heading out to Cali in just two days, and from there I'll be wandering across the pond. It's crazy to think that in less than two weeks, I will be in England (if things with the visa work out, knock on wood, cross your fingers, kill a leprechaun).

I'm glad that I have a home, and that it's here in Omaha.

Waving Dubai-bye to Doha, hello to Omaha.

2009-09-01T03:44:00.000-07:00

I can't believe it's over.

3 months, ninety days, endless experiences all beneath the melting desert sun, and it's over. I'm back in Omaha.

I arrived only hours ago after roughly thirty-three joyous hours of traveling through the wonderful creations that are airports. Dante knew nothing of the circles of hell. I've got him beat... but that's a story for another time.

My last days in Doha were fantastic. As Ramadan commenced in full swing, I found myself striving to savor those last niblets of all my favorite Qatar things. The ABODE gang took me to Thai Snack, where I gorged myself on melon dipped in curry sauce, fried morning glories and of course papaya salad. I will miss that.

Sweaty and stuffed outside Thai Snack

For my final Thursday night, those crazy ABODE staffers threw a surprise going away party. They said we were going to watch the exorcist. Resigned to scary-movie-viewing (I hate horror films), I showed up at Bryce's apartment with popcorn and peas. Kath met me outside with a grin. "You scared?" This from the girl who gets goosebumps watching daytime TV.

"Of course!" I exclaimed, following her up, up and away into Bryce's apartment. We all know how this story ends. Crowding in the hallway were all the people I had come to know and absolutely cherish during my time at Doha: Bryce, Tessa, Megan, Del, others. "SURPRISE!" They shouted as I walked inside. "Surprise!"

Megan, me, kath and Joyce (an amazing person/writer/MISS YOU!)

"We made vegetarian food," explained Kath, showing me the impressive array of goodies. Bryce prepared Indian dishes. Kath cooked up some puppy chow and chopped vegetables. ("I knew how to cut cauliflower because you showed me," she noted. "I hated it.") Megan whipped together her famous guac, and Tessa repeated the created-by-mistake hummus Lebanese seven layer mexican style dip, which tastes far better than it sounds.

Poor Salah: promised movie time, equally surprised by surprise party

"And we made bloody maries because they are veggie too," added a grinning Miss Flood.

Half the snack table. YUM.

I spent the remaining days in the company of good friends, relishing the sun, sand and all that I would soon leave.

Then it was time to go. They took me to the airport, this unexpected family of mine, Bryce and Tessa and of course Kathleen. We hugged and I almost couldn't let go. I'm not ready, I wanted to say. I could stay another nine months, I could keep on writing and living with Kath. I'm not ready.

Kath pushed a note into my hand and slid a bracelet on my wrist. I've never been one to cry when appropriate, so the tears I felt in my heart weren't quite there on my face. Suffice to say it was hard to walk through that awful security checkpoint and commence my long journey back towards H'omaha. I'm not ready.

Shisha partner, and so much more (liason? Sister? Both? Mobile?)

Now, sitting in bed hours later waiting for the sun to rise, with the smell of autumn mixing with the scent of clean bed sheets and bottles of my untouched perfume, I realize just how much I grew to love Doha and the people there. The opportunity was amazing. Fresh from college, I was allowed the chance to work as a full time staff writer for a nine-year-old magazine. My editors gave me freedom to pursue my own stories and guidance to keep me on track. I lived in the Middle East, a land so entirely different from anything I'm used to that still my head is reeling. And I met some amazing, amazing people... people who have again reminded me just how great life can be when you let those certain individuals in.

Already little things about being back in Nebraska are surprising and astounding me. The soda cans open with a pop-top lid. The air is scented with grass and trees that will soon drop their leaves. The sun is still hiding and it's after 5:30. There are no women in abayas, no men in thobes. Wow.

Reverse culture shock, here I come.

For as much as it hurts to leave behind ABODE and the fantastic people I met there (here's looking at you, KK), I am ready for my next adventure. California looms just weeks in the future. Until then, I plan on fully indulging in the charms Omaha has to offer. It'll be nice to see old friends, enjoy my own room, and spend time with Lisa. I want to visit the farmer's market, Whole foods, book stores, my old high school, Creighton...

After that? Cambridge. A new life. A new run.

...speaking of run, I think I may sneak off right now and go for one outside. I can do that here. It's not 120F. Wow.

I'm back in Omaha.

Top 10

2009-08-19T23:53:00.000-07:00

It's crunch time.

I am talking 10 days until I leave. 10 days until I hop on another flight, bounce to Paris, bound to Omaha, visit folks there, trek to Cali, then head to my new home at Cambridge. 10 days and counting.

Sometimes, the ironic vegetarian in me likes to kiss one of the many weird dead animal pellets lining the alleyways of the Souq. ... Like this.

I feel like I'm doing a Top 10 music list of Doha. Playing today? Possibly puppies and kittens (with the Qatar animal welfare society, which I might be volunteering at/interviewing/exploring for the sake of animal shugah). Early morning workout with Kath and our good friends the above-40-rat-pack (as I've named the same four men who are there every day, bright and early, with me. The sole female.)

...one of those men likes to take a conspicuously long time getting water when I'm stretching and my tush is in the air. The cooler just happens to be located near the stretching mats. Hmm.

But anyways! I am powering through Qatar. There's so much I want to see before I go, and so much I simply want to re-enjoy. It's a bit terrifying to realize my days will no longer be filled with things like this:

Models

Watching Kath work her magic in the fashion world

Photoshoot.

Del biting Kath's butt... yes, there are many butt bites here at ABODE.

Ego-crushingly gorgeous new friends (seriously, Divya. Where's the justice?)

And what about my favorite places to eat, like the $2.50 hummus and tabouleh delicious goodness i adore from the Villagio food court?

Even Kath loves the hummus. See? Happy face.

There are so many amazing events coming up in the cooler (read: Below 120F, 68% humidity) months that I'll be missing. The Doha Tribeca Film Festival, for starters. ABODE attended a premier of one-minute movies in association with the DTFF. Unfortunately, Kath and I arrived a bit late (I had another event. ... I went to a book club.) and missed the showing of the movies. We did meet some pretty awesome filmmakers, young people, and general hipsters.

Young! Artsy! Female! Film Festival!

I guess what I'm saying is I'm a bit sad to be leaving so soon. It's bitter sweet. I realize my time here is up, and that I'm moving on to a whole new, amazing adventure. Only I've spent these past couple months doing what I love (writing), guided by an amazing editor (that's you, Tessa), surrounded by pretty fantastic people (not my dumb roomy. .. . or the absolutely horrible photographer/editor-in-chief/whatever-title-it-is-now) and working for a fantastic magazine.

It's a 22-year-old journalist's dream.

P.S. Ramadan is just around the corner! It starts whenever the new moon decides to appear, so any day now. Apparently the government has ordered all grocery stores sell around 150 products at market price (?!!), which means eggs, breads, etc will be significantly cheaper. All in the spirit of giving. I can't wait, wait, wait to see what happens.

Dates and Birthdays!

2009-08-17T01:14:00.000-07:00

Want to see how I started my day? Running along this.

And this.

Pretty darn amazing, that's for sure. More than 7k. Ocean. Sun. 5:30am, and a bleary-eyed miss Kathleen Flood kindly dropping me off at one end (although I'm not sure she quite realized what was happening). I arrived at The Sheraton (pictured above, the weird pyramid thing) red-faced and more grinny than usual.

I grin a lot in the mornings. Kath prefers to sleep. Something about 'normal people don't wake up at 5am, you FREAKONATURE, go to BED!' But of course I can't, because my body hates me and loves the sun. I'm like a darn flower.

Not sure Kath is a morning flower.

We're hitting deadline here at ABODE, which is one of my favorite times. It means everything's intense and fast pace. Stories have to be turned in now, now, yesterday, and others are ready for editing, and where are all those photos? I love it. I think the adrenaline junky in me would be perfectly content working for a newspaper where everything is rapid-fire pace... only I love deep stories too much to do that.

Aside from work (with our new crazy work hours, 8-1, 4-7, say goodbye to your day! Only I really actually like it most the time), life is just... well.. Doha. We celebrated Kath's big 22 birthday last week.

Birthday girl in action on a fashion photoshoot.

I was able to pull some PR strings and work a lil magic, ending in a big surprise at The Ritz with Kath's many buddies and delightful cake.

I actually went out (GASP!) dancing at Palomas, a sassy lil club with free drinks all night for ladies.

Dancing was fun.

The next day was not. I think there's a reason I stick to early bedtimes/water/books. Wait, isn't there a name for that? ...nerd. Shoot.

As things heat up, Doha's getting ready for Ramadan. It starts Aug 22 this year (each year it moves back 10 days). During Ramadan, Muslims here only work half days. The government offices do the same. This means things go a lot slower, and much later into the night, since Iftar (the breaking of the fast) starts once the sun goes down. Dates and milk are used to break the fast.

I've been eating a lot of dates lately. They are everywhere. Given as gifts, huge boxes of dates are now popping up at hotels (hello, Sheraton!) and in the corners of our office. I ate seven in an hour the other day, which resulted in one very, very energetic Danae. Note to self: dates = candy = LOTS OF SUGAR.

Then there's Sohour, the second meal during Ramadan. These can go into the wee hours of the morning and are hosted all around town, either in private homes or in large, grand tents. I can't wait to attend a Sohour... even if it will be much, much after my bedtime. During Ramadan, people aren't allowed to eat, drink or smoke in public. Regulations on clothing (no shoulders, no skirts above the knees) have become a lot stricter these past couple weeks. Folks are being fined thousands of dollars.

So I stay covered. It's amazing what you learn to do with layering. All part of living in a strange land.

I'm heading home in two weeks, where I'll lurk for some number of days before waving goodbye bye to Omaha and hello to Cali.

After a week of Leia lei lei family time, I'll be off to Cambridge! My goodness, where did the time go?

I do love living in beautiful, new places. Unfortunately, Cambridge wont be nearly as sunny.

Danae's Dubai Dabbles (and other D words)

2009-08-01T23:24:00.000-07:00

There is something unconquerable about the desert. Riding a bus from Abu Dhabi to Dubai, I watched miles and miles of desert pass by. Forward, backward, it stretched out in shades of yellow and sunburnt orange, with a single strip of highway winding through like a crack in a piece of granite. I will be here long after you're gone, it seemed to say. I will survive and swallow you in dust and sand. You're little. I'm endless. And that is life...

I like feeling little. As we moved into- and then two days later back out of -Dubai, I found myself just staring out the window. I'd say the bus ride was one of the highlights of the trip. There is something at once humbling and empowering about realizing how tiny I really am. My mistakes don't matter. My past, my future, everything is all just a blip on this endless twirling wonder that is the world. I am here now but one day I'll be gone.

So why not live for today? Why not love to the fullest, experiencing all I can?

Dubai itself was... well... Dubai. I don't think it's quite the metropolitan, large bustling New York or artsy Chicago I had in my head. It was just a bigger Doha with higher buildings and roads on roads. A large dust storm had just moved into the area, blocking out any traces of blue sky and making everything a pale, tannish grey. Dubai.

Dubai, Dubai. Danae dancing in Dubai. The friend gang of four and I did indeed dance, although the second night I called it an early eve and sunk to bed while everyone else slipped out.

I really am not much of a late owl, even when three red bulls are trying to give me wings.

We visited a large (understatement) mall where I found vegetable juice and an odd horse statue. Megan and Bryce found taco bell and salvation.

Kathleen searched out a hip little boutique called Sauce, where beautiful clothing mocked my innate unwillingness to spend hundreds of dollars. While she was trying on outfit after outfit, I wandered around a bookstore and a cupcake shop. It made me miss baking... and Leia, but really, what doesn't?

I also had a chance to meet with Dr. Ken Wise, a previous Creighton professor. Over cups of coffee, he discussed the vaguest details of his current profession. It was fascinating and amazing. I am constantly surprised at how many jobs exist that I've never even considered.

Like professional melon eater. I win.

Now we're back. Back to work, back to Doha, back to the city that honestly I like quite a lot better than Dubai. This morning I woke up at 5:30 (because my body hates me) and slipped out for a run. As the sun rose, I did my grocery shopping at Food Palace, a small Indian grocery store that has become my favorite. It was unusually quiet; the produce men were lining shelves with bread, unfamiliar fruit, milks, Laban. I was one of two customers.

I think what I'm getting at here is it feels good to be home. Dubai was nice, more because of the company than the city. But Doha? Oh, Doha I think has my loyalty... at least until Cambridge comes calling.

I'm going to miss some people when it does.

Germany, Doha, and dilly dallies!

2009-07-25T01:30:00.000-07:00

I am currently sunburnt, energized (going to bed at nine will do that!) and honestly in love with life.

So what have I been up to?

Well, a little bit of this... as in, photoshooting, story writing, and generally working. I love working. My job is fantastic. Where else would I get to interview bikers, sit down with a non-traditional Qatari woman, talk fashion with Kathleen while wandering around one of Doha's many malls, sample new restaurants and meet people from all over the world? Every day is a diverse adventure. I go in with a rough idea of what to expect, and at the end I'm always a bit surprised by what happened. In this pic here, Bryce is taking shots of some acrobats who I guess have been training since they were around seven. Now that's dedication to a craft.

I've also been doing this: traveling. Work sent me to Germany for an Audi press junket. It was my very first actual business trip (and my first time traveling business class!) I had a plane seat that folded into a flat bed, access to endless snacks during layovers and great company. Germany itself was, of course, beautiful. I didn't get to see much of Munich itself, since most of my time was packed with Audi press events. Guess that's the nature of business, eh? But I'm learning. Guess some people will ask to stay on an extra couple of days, book their own affordable hostel, and travel around in the country where they're sent. That's good to know.

Turns out Germany, while beautiful, is also cold and rainy. Here's me, sad-face style, with a plastic poncho and borrowed suit jacket.

So working, traveling... what else? Friends. I've started meeting people outside of work, while simultaneously getting to know the folks I work with better. I'm glad there's such a great team at ABODE and other Bilal-owned operations. They make the weekends fun and my fridays under the sun more exciting.

I'm really missing Whole Foods (salad bar!!!) and my little sister. Yes, I realize putting those in the same breath is odd, but the two tend to go hand-in-hand for me (leia! Let's go eat! ok!). So I've booked a flight to Cali before I leave for Cambridge. I'll be there for about a week visiting the lil, the bro, and even the pops. Since it'll be the last time for at least two years (most likely), I think this trip will be extra precious.

I've also decided to try and run three races in three cities: 5k in Omaha, 10k in Modesto, CA, and a half marathon in Birmingham, UK. This means I've started training again, which has, if anything, made me that much more of a nerd. Didn't really know that was possible!

Speaking of nerd... I'm running out of books. I'm down to my last one. It's Kathleen's and it's surreal fiction. I've also found it increasingly difficult to read magazines without thinking about work and business. This could be a problem.

Just finished "The Alchemist," a book given to me by the lovely SAO staff (thanks Liz, Katie, Katy and Eric!). It was fantastic... all about pursuing your dreams, rushing forward in pursuit of your true life goal. One of the things that resonated strongest was how so often we settle, and thus we exist with this sort of slow, pained feeling that says 'this isn't right, this isn't right'. It's a monotonous death. I do not want to settle, not for a moment.

Which is why I'm going to work hard while I'm here and work hard at Cambridge- not only to achieve the basic goals, but also to strengthen who I am. I'm finding out.

...through techniques like buying these investment boots, a la Kathleen-inspiration. ;)

Celebratin the fourth, Doha style!

2009-07-05T01:58:00.000-07:00

My goodness (my guinness!) I'm hungry. It's almost lunch time here in the office, and considering I still wake up around 5am (thank you sunshine!) I've gone far too long without food. How am I ever going to survive during Ramadan?

Well, the July issue of ABODE has hit the shelves, offices and gyms. This means I'm out and about in the glossy world of magazines, a published journalist. It's crazy. Absolutely crazy. When Tessa dropped a copy off on my desk, I almost started crying. Call me young, naive and all other sorts of names, but at the end of the day I can't help but to be young and naive and all sorts of happy. I'm a journalist, for real.

When I'm not hiding behind a desk in our fortunately air conditioned office, I'm out and about getting lost on the Doha streets and meeting my interviewees. I can't really detail the stories I'm working on this month; suffice to say I'm excited and I think they're going to be pretty good. Tessa made a point the other day about how writing is more significant when you feel it might impact people, when it might make a little change in even one life.

That's the kind of writing I want to do. Change lives.

The ABODE staff got together on the 3rd to celebrate 'merica in the 'merican style. We ate hotdogs, burgers (Bryce requested veggy burgers for me. YUM!) and sat in the sun for hours. After lounging around lazy in the exhausting heat, Kath and I ducked out to attend a salsa "Bad taste" party. My gangly limbs struggle to dance, but I still had a great time. Kath, dancer o'15 years, was naturally pretty good. And pretty. Even in her colorful outfit.

Being in Doha for the fourth made me miss my family, especially lil sis 'n bro. I think last year, my pops tried to grill a lobster. Not quite sure what they did this year. It's getting tougher to cope with the fact that I'll be leaving Leia for two years in two more months, and that I probably wont see her during that entire time. She truly is one of my best friends.

Maybe she can fit in my suitcase.

That having been said, I really can't imagine myself anywhere else right now but here. I absolutely love what I'm doing. The people are so well travelled, interesting, diverse, loud and dirty and pristine and chaotic. It's everything at once thrown into a desert, with opulence and poverty shoved side-by-side. It's astounding.

Yesterday after dinner at Thai Snack (which is absolutely, positively one of the greatest not-secret secrets here in Doha), the team'o'staff popped into this nearby antique store. It's the first used-goods shop I've seen yet in Doha. I fell in love, mostly with the upstairs attic room filled with hundreds of books. Swollen from heat and dusty with age, the books were stacked against the walls and falling in piles. I could have spent hours going through each one. It's times like that that I realize just how awfully nerdy I truly am. I love books. I enjoy reading. I wanted to accost the store owners and demand they sit down and talk with me about literature.

Instead, I went home, finished off my fruit supply, and watched a film called "How to make an American quilt" with my sleepy suntanned roomy. It was the perfect end to a beautiful couple of days.

Friday Fun Day!

2009-06-26T22:47:00.000-07:00

(yes, that man does look very freaked out in the background...)

Days off are few and far between here.

The Doha work week stretches from Saturday to Thursday, meaning Fridays are free days. Folks do get a three hour break in the middle of the day, which I suppose makes up for the one-day weekend. Only hey! Journalists don't! Because the news never sleeps, even if its writers try to get into bed at 10 (rarely happens).

But I'm getting ahead of myself.

These past couple days have been a'rushing and busy. We had dinner on Mr. Bilal's boat. Sitting around munching on nuts and bites of small talk, Mr. Bilal stood up around 9pm and announced there was a little 'snack' upstairs. The snack proved to be an amazing spread of around thirty dishes. Dinner ran until midnight.

I had three plates and could've eaten more. See me there, in the left corner? Please notice I'm the only one who still has a plate. Oh yes. And that's other ABODE staff in their snazzy best.

Friday arrived after several more interviews. Taking the day slow, I woke up at 6 and bounded off to the Sheraton for my morning jog-a-thon. I love running. In the company of two other crazy earlier morning'ers, I had probably one of the best runs yet. Great start to a great day! I keep trying to convince myself to run outside, but the 90-108 degree temp somehow keeps me indoors.

I wandered around Carefourre for a bit trying to find contact solution for Kath (no luck) and groceries for me (always luck). Blissed out from running, I found myself narrating the story of every passerby, always circling back to one central theme: I love it here. The woman in the pink sari, the little girl running past shouting in german after her mom, the men jostling at the produce stand trying to find onions (what do they do with all those onions?!)... all of it. I hear french, arabic, italian, british english, accents heavy and rich with travels of the world. I wander through isles filled with food unfamiliar to me, hailing from regions as diverse as this population.

I love Doha.

We brunched at the Ritz where my mouth found a new sanctuary. There's something to be said about a buffet where caviar, champagne and fois gras are on the menu. Here's a shot or two of the interior.

Kath and I retreated then to the private beach at the Sheraton, to melt and die in the 105 heat. It was so hot that people couldn't move- they just floated on rafts in the water, bobbing almost comically in the sun and gentle waves. Occasionally I'd dive in, swim, flop, swim, and then somehow find myself just laying across my own personal bobbing mat.

So that was my weekend. Grocery stores, food, and beach. Now it's time to get back to work. Tonight I'm going to a salsa class to interview folks and try to get my gangly limbs moving in time. Funny, I know.

I love writing. I love this job. I'm even starting to be amused by the crazy traffic and how people park on sidewalks, resulting in people walking on streets, resulting in even crazier traffic (look! Dodge that man! Don't stop or they all walk in front of your car!)

Maybe I shouldn't be behind the wheel. Kath did test drive a saucy red built-for-street-racing car with a switch that made it go even faster.

And I'm probably going to Germany to test drive another. I say, bring it on. Who needs two-day weekends when jobs are this amazing?

So this is culture shock

2009-06-23T06:45:00.000-07:00

It didn't happen with a bang, a snap, or anything much of notice at all... but it happened. Somehow, between here and there, I've started to experience a bit of culture shock.

I walk down the street angry at the absence of females. I find myself marching ahead as though convinced that if I go long enough, cross that next corner and creep over that next bridge, I will find just a gaggle of girls my age. They'll be chatting casually and I will somehow find a way to introduce myself. Hello, Danae from America. Nice to meet you.

I walked an hour on Sunday. After working all day in the office, I was so desperate to move my legs that I couldn't even wait ten minutes for Kathleen to finish up. I texted her as the Doha heat caught me and I moved outside: I'm sorry, I said. I just have to get out. Go swim without me.

But I didn't see any women.

People stare. That's bothering me too. People stare all the time. And by people, I mean men. And by stare, I mean they follow me aggressively with their eyes, studying me in a manner I just can't understand. Sexual? Surprised? Malicious? Genuinely interested? I don't know. I'm starting to feel like I never will.

So this is culture shock. I drove by Subway today on my way back from an interview and found myself craving a big ol' 'merican sandwich- only I don't like Subway. Or big ol' American sandwiches. I'm not consciously homesick, but somewhere my mind is registering that this place of sun and sand is very, very far from home.

Yet! Yet I want to say, yet again and again, that I'm so grateful to be here. In the pic above, I'm helping photograph recipes I wrote and prepared alongside Kath and Bryce.

I know without a doubt that were Cambridge not around the corner, I would stay in a heartbeat. I love my job. I love the people I work with, and the kindness of the many individuals I meet. I love the excitement of Doha, the ocean, the food (my god... the food...)

To amuse myself, I've compiled a list of lil Doha things that are just different:

People don't use napkins here. There are tissues. At nice restaurants, in the middle of tables, there are boxes of tissues. Makes me think of boogies.
Only one day off, and that's Friday. Six day work week!
Books are impossible to find. When you do, they're horribly expensive
Several times a day, all radios tune in to Prayer Call, and Mosques have their own Prayer Calls. It's really amazing, driving down the street hearing all these different voices
I haven't seen a single pack of mustard
I found ketchup!
Everyone drinks carrot juice. Everywhere.
Everyone also drinks Nescafe. As in, insta-coffee. My tongue is sad.
Work days go 6-1, 4-7pm. Except for us journalists. We just go straight.
Every bathroom has a lil bide, or a thing to wash yourself in a very intimate way after doing that one thing.

Well, there are more lil nuances that have happened but I can't quite remember. Tonight Kath and I are going to yoga (I finally succumbed to the QR 50, or $14 price tag) and then meeting up with some other expats at a cafe tonight.

Life is amazing. The culture shock will wear off, and I'll be better for it. It was time this westward young woman broke out of her shell.

Scary start, great ending

2009-06-19T10:32:00.000-07:00

"You are the gold car, yes? Gold car with dent in bumper," said the man next to me with a slight, gee-isn't-it-funny smile.

That's when I realized he had been following me for the last hour and a half. He had followed me into Carefour, a wal-mart style grocery store here in Doha packed with expats and locals. Somehow, he had trailed me around the store for the 90 minutes that I meandered, losing myself in the many foreign labels. I was oblivious. Sure, it was odd that he stood in front of the lettuce for three minutes, not moving, just -standing-, until I shrugged at him and walked past. It was also a bit peculiar that he took his spot behind me in line, wielding only a bag of grapes to my cart full.

"I help you carry out," he said. Roughly 50, with a heavy accent and a half-grin, he didn't seem unusual. As I've mentioned before, the men here stare. They stare a lot. I've gotten used to it/started to ignore it/am still struggling but hey, that's life.

"No, I'm fine," was my response. He argued, saying yes, yes, let me help you carry out. I shook my head, quickly collected my bags and hurried out of Carefour and into the mall proper. He caught up with me two minutes later. I heard his footsteps first, then he was grabbing my bag.

"I help you carry out."

I stopped for a moment, turning to face him and firmly shaking my head. "No, I -am- fine." I grabbed at my sack. He wouldn't give it bag.

"I help you, it's heavy. I help."

"Fine."

We reached the escalator, descending towards the garage. He asked where I was from. I said America. The conversation died and then he mentioned my bumper. My bumper, dented from a hit-and-run that happened a couple nights ago while Kath and I were sleeping.

That's when I started to freak out. In a moment of utter surprise, I turned to him. "How did you -know- that?" I demanded. He smiled and I pulled out my phone, calling Bryce, editor-in-chief and my unknowing hero.

Now Crazy and I were in the garage together, alone, surrounded by cars. I couldn't figure out where I parked. Crazy knew. He helped me. I talked to Bryce the whole time, chatting about eggplants, grocery stores, chatting as though this would-be-stalker hadn't just followed me a lot and then some more. The groceries were in my trunk, Crazy was waiting. I turned to him.

"Maybe we..." He began.

"No. I'm seeing someone. I'm on the phone with him now." Before he could answer, I was inside my car, doors locked, shaking.

Crazy followed me home. He followed me back to my apartment, where Bryce told me to pull up front, walk straight in and tell the guards. I did. Crazy left, after having failed to find a parking spot (and perhaps seeing me talking with someone). Bryce offered to come over, take pictures, kick some serious tush. No, no, I just wanted to go upstairs and return to normal.

So I guess moral of the story is, not everything is rosy in Doha. Sure, that could have happened anywhere. But it didn't. It happened here, where I'm a stranger in a strange land... where I don't know what to do, or how to react, or if I somehow encouraged that sort of behavior. I suppose it's a good reminder to be a little cautious, and not go walking by myself at strange hours, and not go swimming by moonlight. ... or something like that.

Kath and I really did have an amazing rest of the day. We attended a business brunch (Great food! Lots of talk!) then snuck off to the Sheraton to lounge, read, lounge and read. After much swimming, lounging and reading, I'm back home eating my body weight in melons (purchased this morning, oh yay!). We work tomorrow, so bed will be coming soon.

I really do love it here, good, bad 'n ugly. I love my job. I love the people I'm around. And yes, I still love grocery stores.

Work and Pleasure

2009-06-18T01:28:00.000-07:00

I love my job here.

I love writing. Interviewing. Finding ways of capturing people in words and conveying what they're passionate about or afraid of, or what makes them think in the middle of the night, eyes shut but brain rushing, or what happens when they wake up at 4:30am and are they tired? Do they spring out of bed to design? Do they curl beneath the covers or hop into the shower?

I love writing.

We also go to tons of events as part of ABODE. The first shot is Kath and I at the Dominica Vaca opening, where I saw bags made of all the animals I don't eat. They were just beautifully crafted, but sort of horrible in their own right. Lisa, recognize my undershirt in that pic? Oh yes, rocking the 80s!

The second pic is of the ABODE staff (Sans Deliah and Fawzi) at a tower opening. I found fruit. See my smile? I was happy. Fruit + Nae = YES!

Today is Thursday, as in Doha Friday, so I'm in an extra-lively mood. Kath and I are about to pop out and visit a cute-stuff-for-cheap-prices store on Salwa for Retail Therapy (an actual section in ABODE). We're going swimming tonight (OCEAN!) and swimming tomorrow (OCEAN!) with a food-coma brunch in between (OCEAN!FOOD!OCEAN!)

TGIT.

I think I'm addicted to Tabbouleh. Mmmm. And delish Indian food. Melons. Red bull (blame Kath). Ocean. Writing. God, things can't get any better.

Every day is amazing

2009-06-16T23:03:00.000-07:00

That is, except for the stares.

I got used to it a bit in Spain. Walking down the street, men would shout, whistle and occasionally ask to touch le blonde hair. I learned how to establish personal space with big elbow juts and numerous mean looks.

But here in Doha, the style-of-stare is something different. The men just look. Not sexually, not viscously... they just look. I can't figure out why. Is it because I'm female? We've seen very few women here, and those we do tend to either (a) be in the hotel setting, a la expats, or (b) be covered head-to-toe in a Hijab. Is it because I'm not covered entirely myself? I dress conservatively. Arms, legs, loose clothes, simple shoes. So what's the deal?

I guess this question is tugging through my mind because I just walked down the street to our little closet-sized neighborhood grocery store, called (of all things) Dana Grocery. I bought some cauliflower, two sodas and a weird fruit that I can't quite recognize but definitely can smell. During the short, five-minute walk, I tried not to notice the many eyes on me. Then I tried not to let it bother me. Should it? I just don't understand.

Life, though... life here in Doha is just amazing. The GM of the Sheraton (another friend of Mr. Billionaire Bilal) gave Kath, Tessa and I all pool and gym passes to his hotel. Enter private beach, much swimming, a solid fitness facility, and.. oh yeah, a private beach. White sand, blue sky, blue waters. Even better? Pretty much no one is ever around, choosing to swim in the hotel pool over swimming in the salty ocean. This means that most mornings, like today, I had the entire stretch of salt and water and sand to myself.

I'm busy writing. It's still hard for me to believe that I am, indeed, a real journalist now. We attend events as press, and I introduce myself as 'Danae Mercer, staff writer from ABODE.' I have interviewed several just fascinating people, like this woman named Noor Al-Kuwari who pretty much single-handedly (and pregnant to boot) opened two restaurants, traveled to China, Morocco, America and back again, and is traditional Qatari. She worked alongside her construction people, eight-months-pregnant, wearing her Abijah, during the insane Doha summer heat. Amazing.

The wealth of Doha is also still constantly amazing me. It's... well... It's a lot. Tons. People here have resources I can't even imagine. When we go out to meals, they tend to run upwards of $100 a plate. Starting price. It makes me wonder about how all this is impacting me. A man at a cocktail party told me the other day that once you are in Doha, you get spoiled. You can't leave. You become use to the grandeur, the opulence, the luxury.

Will I ever become used to many near-silent servers sweeping forward to lay my napkin on my lap, pull out my chair, pick up my water bottle when it tips sideways, fill my glass with bubbly and wine? Will I ever adjust to this sort of treatment?

Today, Tessa is allowing Kath and I to come in late, since we are usually working from 8am-6pm officially, then attending events for work in the evening. We're going to hit up various stores to do pulls for interiors; I'm going to finish my articles and copy edit some others; write write write; and then attend a W pool party in the evening.

So things are, as always, busy. Good thing I've got my cauliflower to tide me over, and my soda to give me a lil pep. Man, I love it here.

Swimming in the moonlight and hasish on a terrace

2009-06-06T11:20:00.000-07:00

How can every second be this amazing?

Yesterday, I woke up and went to the most delicious, grandious breakfast I've ever had. Mr. Bilal, the owner of ABODE Magazine, invited Kathleen and me to eat with him, his international reporter friend Judith, Katryna, and several other just fantastic folks.

"You have to make this place your home," Mr. Bilal announced at one point, staring at me and Kathleen over piles of pastries, cheeses and fresh fruit. "But go get some more. Go eat! Go eat." Of course we got more food. I went back four times, only to be sent home with goody bags that Mr. Bilal had previously arranged. Papaya and pastries and cold cuts, oh my!

Beach time followed. Friday is the Holy Day here in Qatar, so everyone has it off. The writing gang (so much easier than saying Bryce, Kathleen Tessa and me, isn't it?) trekked out for some serious sand and sun time. By sun, I mean I avoided the orange beast at all cost, hiding under layers of anti-stayaway-sunscreen. The beach was hot and the water was warm. Perfection.

I felt self-conscious in my bikini, as did Kathleen, so we rushed to the water quickly after taking off our clothes. Save for two women in birkas and one little girl, we were the only females around. Dozens of men filled the beach. Men swimming. Men grilling. Men just sitting together in clumps, touching each other in a casually affectionate way not quite common to us westerners.

After showering and catching a quick nap, le Writers headed to the Souq, a middle east styled outdoor market. Thin alleyways winding throughout adobe cream buildings, opening into hundreds of shops, make up the Souq. Vendors stood in each doorway. As we walked past, they would call out after us in a soft mumble. "Scarves. Scarves. Jewelry. Perfume. Scarves."

Birds, cats, food, nuts, candies, scarves, hats, art, beads, breads, here and here. Just step inside. The words trailed after us but on we walked, surrounded by hundreds of people. I saw more women in one hour than I had the entire two previous days. In their black birkas they brushed past, not speaking a word and again I found myself staring but trying not to.

Dinner was on the upper level of a Moroccan, sitting outside on pillows. We shared strawberry hasish while watching the people walk by and eating small plates of couscous. I have never tasted anything that delicious.

And today? What did I do today? I feel like this post has already gone on long enough. Today I wrote, worked for the magazine, interviewed people, collected information for stories. I visited the Islamic Museum of Art and the Islamic Cultural Society, where men in white quietly stepped up to me and offered black tea with honey. While reading about Islam and Mohammed, I drank every last drop.

After work, Kathleen and I went swimming again. It was late. The sun had already set. So we swam by moonlight in the warm water, this time wearing long shorts and t-shirts. Floating on my back, I looked up at the sky and realized I couldn't be happier. This is my dream. My life is really happening.

Now I'm going to bed. I'm exhausted and it's barely 9:30, but we start work early tomorrow and I have a long day ahead. There's a lot of writing to do, which excites me beyond belief. I get to write. I get to report.

And I'm doing it in Doha.

2009-06-03T18:15:00.000-07:00

This is going to change my life forever.

Doha is unlike anything I've ever known. It has the big-city feel of New York without people on the streets. Everyone drives (and drives horribly). Men outnumber women five to one. The heat is surreal, bleaching the sky and the buildings until everything is faded in whites and creams and pale blues. Buildings spring up from every corner, made entirely of glass or glass and elaborate patterns or glass and gold. Construction crews work late into the night.

So many things happened today and yesterday that I can't even begin to explain. I met Mr. Bilal, the billionaire owner of both ABODE magazine and quite a lot of Doha. He sat Kathleen and me down, adjusted his robes, and kindly plied us with Turkish coffee. "Are you engaged?" he asked me, then Kathleen. "Do you have family? Why are you here? We are pleased to have you here. You both will come to breakfast with me, Friday."

Apparently breakfast is a grand affair at some beautiful hotel on the coast. Mr. Bilal was trying to judge how long Kathleen and I would be around, it seemed. Three months? Longer? Perhaps working as a Staff Writer now intended to introduce us to a much more permanent career.

Thessa and Bryce, my bosses, drove Kathleen and me around today in a welcome-to-Doha tour. We stopped at a cafe called Doha Rocks and ate finger sandwiches. I ordered carrot juice. We also visited one of Doha's many malls, which was so large I can't even think of how to describe it. A man-made river ran through the center, on which gondolas gently floated.

Turns out ABODE does a lot of 'Ready Wear' pulls from shops at these malls, meaning I will get to visit shops, pick out clothing, and use them in the magazine. Amazing.

It's fascinating to see the wide range of people here. Most men wear loose-fitting shirts and pants. Some are covered in white robes and headdresses. The few women I've seen are either wrapped head-to-toe in beautifully made, but entirely concealing, black outfits; or are dressed much like me, in longer skirts and simple tops.

As I've mentioned before, though, there aren't many ladies out-and-about. I find myself trying not to stare while discreetly stealing side-glances at the women-in-black, looking at their beautiful robes, their shoes, their bags. What are they like under all that fabric? Will I ever know?

Prayer call happens several times throughout the day. It's currently 4am. I think the next one's at 5. Perhaps I'll still be awake for it. My sleeping has been a bit off.

Friday is the day off. We work six days a week, 9-6pm, and we're often expected to attend openings at night. I am going to be writing, writing, writing. I can't wait. We had our first staff meeting today and it was everything I could have ever hoped. Discussing ideas and articles reminded me why exactly I wanted to go into journalism... not that I have ever really forgot.

I miss everyone, of course. But I am happy. How could I not be? This opportunity is surreal and my god, I am so excited. Let the adventure begin!

Hello Doha!

2009-06-02T14:59:00.000-07:00

I am in Doha!

After 26 hours of a'travellin, I finally arrived. Three different flights, three different airports, a whole lot of free diet coke and some serious airport food (vegetarian meals, oh yum!) resulted in just one darn fantastic trip.

On the first six hour trek, I was next to an old, wide-eyed, glasses-wearing grampa who just blinked all confusedly, didn't speak a word of English, and woke me up every time the pilot made some sort of announcement. He also gave my shoulders a brisk rub as though to say 'this my granddaughter, rubrub night!' type of thing. I think perhaps he didn't quite understand certain things. Or personal space. He did share his gum though, which was a bit of a small life save.

Bryce and Tessa (Editors of Abode Magazine!) met me and Kathleen at the airport. We were shuttled through security and into a small waiting lounge, where we enjoyed some Coca Light. The cans were tiny, the lids different, but the taste? Still delish, especially after so much travel.

Now I'm leeching internet from someone else's room and sitting in my home-for-three-months. It's really a nice apartment. Big and airy, with a half-stocked kitchen (yogurt, here I come!)

Suppose I should try to go to bed now. But bed is overrated. Doha awaits. Abode awaits. A 10:30 meeting awaits. ...that bed thing might just happen.

Washington, Doha, Cambridge!

2009-05-18T10:06:00.000-07:00

I'm going to Doha! Which, as many of you may not know, is a large mass of land off the edge of Saudi Arabia. I applied for a journalism internship there working with Abode magazine... and unexpectedly enough, I got it.

So why not? Doha, here I come.

I leave in two weeks.

Wednesday I'm trucking out to Washington to meet the Davies-Jackson committee. We're lunching at the Cosmos Club (which apparently has amazing vegetarian options, nomnom!) and then I'm free to explore. DC, also, here I come.

Things have been a bit weird around here lately. It's hard trying to go on with daily life realizing every second that you'll be leaving all these people soon. My best friends, my closest buddies, my mentors and even my lil sister Leia... I can't imagine what it will be like with them here and me not.

On the bright side, B and K got me a camera as a graduation gift (graduated Saturday! Class of 200-this-ceremony-is-really-long-my-god-so-many-names-but-I-LOVE-JAYS!-9), so expect tons of pictures. Doha, DC, concerts, friends, all that and more!

California and now the Netherlands!

2009-03-20T04:56:00.000-07:00

I am SO fortunate that I go to just the perfect school for me. Creighton allows me to travel all over the world. Like today. I'm leaving for the Netherlands. NETHERLANDS!!! WOOO!!!

Here are some much-belated pics of my spring breakker down in Cali to see the lil. I miss her already. Heck, who am I kidding? I missed her the moment I left. She'll be coming up here either for graduation or before I leave to hop across the pond.

Today I head off for a week long conference at The Hague. I'll be representing CU in this charming Model UN thing sponsored by Harvard. 3000 crazy uni students from around the world. :) :)

On the Cambridge front, two of the previous recipients contacted me the other day. Yesterday. Cheers! I'm learning more, like: I will indeed be living somewhere. And Cambridge likes vegetarians.

Not sure if they'll like me, though. Best be working on my accent now ;)

California!

2009-03-07T07:11:00.000-08:00

Hello from sunny California! That's me and the lil bro five years ago, surfin. Sorta. Freezing, more likely.

So I just realized the cooing noise coming from the corner isn't a cat purring- it's my lil brother. I didn't know sleeping humans could do that.

Sleeping humans... that's what I'm currently surrounded by. While in Cali, I decided to pop over and see my pops. It's been I think over two years. Funny how time gets away from us. So my lil sis is stretched out asleep on the across-the-living-room-hammock-net-house pops has made (he's an artist. It's a second level made out of ropes) and my bro is crashed on the little matress-ontop-of-boards. I got the foam-mat on the floor.

We're trekking down to the coast today to see what we can see. Cross your fingers for me. I'm honestly a bit apprehensive. My pops and I aren't very close, and things sometimes get tense... but if I'm leaving for England, I suppose I should see him before disappearing for two years. Not to mention he is family, and I do love him.

And hey, the beach! Mm. Beach.

Not to mention, pops has an orange tree in his backyard. I've been a happy orange-juice glutton for the last hour or so. Brekkie (isn't that a British term?) was cereal and orange. Lunch, I'm sure, will contain orange. Orange orange orange. Mmm.

xoxo

Headed for Cali!

2009-03-05T08:17:00.001-08:00

I leave in exactly some amount of hours for the big, warm, promising edge state that is California!

My lil lives there. Long story short (and private story remaining private), my lil sis and I are extremely close. My mom's death, and all the crazy tribulations that came after it, made us connect in a whole new way. She's my best friend, my baby sister, the love of my life...

Well! Gush gush, I haven't seen her since LAST SUMMER. The day I got into Cambridge, I booked a plane ticket to Fresno. It was the best reward I could have bought for myself.

So I'm off today! Tonight, actually, although I was confused and misread the plane ticket and thought it said last night (please don't take away the scholarship, Cambridge. I really am smart sometimes. Sort of. When there are books involved. .. ish. :P )

Midterms are done, stress is done, and personal things are all confused. Boys complicate situations, especially when I am leaving in five months for another country filled with crumpets, tea and hopefully vegetarian Indian food.

Speaking of... four crazy faculty/staff here from the big ol' University are insisting on hosting my graduation party. I think the theme is going to be British. Any tips?

I ate oat bran and oats this morning, with coconut extract and coconut flakes on top. I like to call that a lil lot bit of heaven. Mmmmmm...

XOXO!

Look ma, no hands!

2009-03-03T05:53:00.000-08:00

See the title? That's my sense of humor. I think that's funny.

Let me paraphrase: I am not a very funny girl, but I certainly do crack myself up. Writing this third post (in two days!) makes me feel like I'm doing some sort of magic trick. I'm committing! I'm typing! I ... well, am probably on some sort of energy surge that will trail off soon, but no matter!

So here I am, eatin my oatbran and oatmeal (mmm... def a fav), typin. I work at the Yoga studio today at 9, then I'm headin off to Gender Communications (where we learn to talk to men? Jesus, help me...) and work.

My friends are hostin a lil we're-leaving-for-spring-break, Nae's-leavin-for-Cali-Wed party tonight. I'm not really much of a partier, which I think shows itself in the fact I usually stay in, curled with a book and maybe a friend or two. But tonight promises to be fun. Janga, Twister, and of course friend time.

So off I go to live this busy life! My goodness, I am happy.

Round two!

2009-03-02T08:20:00.000-08:00

Alright. So far, I'm failing at this. As in, I've done one post. Just one.

The thing is, I've written around thirty in my head. I keep thinking 'wow, that would be something interesting to note', or 'hey, I really should document what happened today'... then I realize that what happened today was a lot of small, random bits of me-being-awkward (common), and I lose my motivation. :)

Guess the moral of the story is I need to think less, type more. Which can be dangerous... sort of like talking in your sleep.

On the Cambridge front, nothing really new has happened. Creighton, my lovely university (which I really do adore, honestly and sincerely), has ... eh... enjoyed the PR of this scholarship. Me? Not quite so much. I never want to be a celebrity. Or even kind of famous. Keep me in the back corners or the creepy-cat-lady houses and I think I'll stay happy. I've done tons of interviews for local publications, even Omaha's newspaper. The yoga studio hung up a cut out on their board.

Something interesting has happened since winning the scholarship (aside from my brief, and nerd-related stint into infamy)... I've lost most motivation to do schoolwork. Given my semester is filled with Beginning Tennis, Weightlifting, and Gender Communications, that really isn't a huge problem. It's just... interesting. I want to be around people! Social academic? Nonsense.

I made my friend Oatbran and Oatmeal this morning. It got two thumbs up and one 'forgot how filling this stuff was'. :)

I'll try to post more. Especially as I'm starting to chat with some other bloggers. It's only fair: if I'm creeping on their life, they should be able to creep on mine.

Day 1: The discovery

2009-01-26T12:12:00.001-08:00

I promised myself that if I got accepted, I would start blogging.

Well today, I got accepted.

Two years, full ride scholarship, Cambridge University. In exactly some number of months, I'll be flying from the big O (meaning Omaha, Nebraska) to Cambridge.

I don't even know where to begin. Tea? Hats? Crumpets? Where will I do yoga? Where will I wear my Husker shirts? ...do I own any husker shirts?

K called me at work to tell me the big news. I don't remember the specifics. I screamed (later termed squeel by fellow co-workers), fell to the ground, jumped a lot, screamed/squeeled more, and proceeded to sprint on over to the Dean's office. Commence much excitement and more screaming.

Now I'm all screamed out, but still pretty darn excited. Careful, Cambridge, cause this girl is ready to go!

...now time to watch some Harry Potter and get excited about the buildings in a whole new way.

(the picture isn't mine. I don't own a camera. On that note, I am terrible behind the camera. I once made my photography teacher gasp in horror and declare 'oh, no'... but those stories are for a better time. This pic is courtesy of galen-frysinger.com. Thanks!)