London Adventures

By Kayla Walters, Spring 2017

Thursday, January 12^th

Leave Harlaxton for London

Today I found out I can’t sleep on buses. Luckily for me this was a 3 hour bus ride where everyone else fell asleep immediately!!!!

Essentially we got to our Hotel (The Royal National Hotel). Walked around for a little bit. Ate at Pizza Express. Went to bed.

Friday, January 13^th

Leicester Square

We began our journey by visiting Leicester Square to see if there were any cheap tickets for shows that night at the various theaters in town. My heart skipped a beat when I saw "Wicked" flash across the screen. It had been almost 10 years since I had seen the play and I was eager to watch it once more. With the ticket only being £21.50 I decided it was fate and bought it. The purchase was the most spontaneous and exciting thing I have done to date...minus the whole picking up and leaving America for a semester.

Tower of London

As suggested by our host family we went to the Tower of London. We did a little tour with a beefeater and then got to spend the rest of the time exploring the castle on our own. Side note, the Tower of London houses the crowned jewels because apparently the Queen has a really small closet and couldn’t fit them in there.

This was our "beefeater" who gave us the tour (he also doesn't know why they are called "beefeaters")

Things I learned

•     The Queen and I have very different styles. While I told my mom "I want people to yawn when they see my prom dress," Elizabeth liked to wear Project Runway-esque clothing. To each their own.

•     531.6 carats is apparently an option when you are royalty. Now that I know this I simply can’t accept anything less.

Things I questioned

•     Why are WKU’s 50 year-old dorms slowly starting to crumble while England's castles are standing strong like it hasn't been over 1,000 years?

•     How many pigeons can one country have?

Tower Bridge

This is hands down the cutest bridge I have ever seen. Honestly, I’m just wondering how Louisville is able to charge people to go over their new, ugly bridge when England let me go on their old, beautiful bridge for free...twice (my navigation skills in the UK are similar to my navigation skills in the USA).

Tower Bridge

Red Lion

Once it was 2:30 PM and we realized we had not yet eaten, we decided that it might be a good idea to stop for lunch. We ate at the Red Lion where I got a plain hamburger. I can only take so much adventure for one day.

A picture symbolizing my love to try new things

Sight Seeing (Westminster, Big Ben, London Eye)

Westminster

Apparently it’s just "Westminster" and not "West Minister." No matter how I say it, it was simply lovely.

Westminster Abbey

Big Ben

I learned that this is actually the Elizabeth Tower and Big Ben is the bell inside of the clock. Studying abroad is a constant educational experience.

Wicked

I was beyond excited to see the show. It was a little tricky to get to (I started to walk through a construction site to get to the theater (as one typically does) until someone yelled at me to stop because apparently I was not authorized to be there. English people can be so funny about stuff like that.)

Anyways, the show starts at 7:30 PM and I finish sprinting to my seat at around 7:31 PM. While I was still panting for most of the opening song I knew I had made the right choice by coming. It was just as wonderful as the first time I saw it. I’m also convinced the person sitting next to me thought I was out of mind because I couldn’t help but smile through the entire performance. I simply could not get over the fact that I was watching my favorite show whilst studying abroad. 2 dreams, 1 international flight.

McDonald's

After the show Angel Ann (another WKU ADPi that saw the show) and I decided we needed to find dinner. Not wanting to over immerse ourselves in the English culture too early on, we decided on McDonald’s.

Side note, while I have noticed that Europeans are far skinner than Americans, I did not appreciate them trying to pass off their small cup as a medium.

Saturday, January 14^th


Abbey Road

After forgetting my Oyster Card (you need this to get on the Tube) and literally sprinting half a mile (again thank you SHA track team) back to the hotel to grab it, we were off to Abbey Road. I envisioned a closed off road with a line where you would politely wait your turn to take the iconic picture. Instead, I found a highly trafficked crosswalk where the cars were less than pleased with the iconic site being in the middle of their route. Despite the challenges we faced, we made sure to get the signature tourist picture and not get hit by any cars which was truly remarkable given our situation.

Buckingham Palace

Our next stop was to see Liz, but she was busy babysitting for Will and Kate so we had to take a rain check. Apparently, we must have tried to cash in our rain check early because it started pouring when we got there. Luckily, I was smart and made sure to bring an umbrella with me to London. Unluckily, I left it in my backpack in the hotel. Regardless, the building was beautiful and we got to catch the tail end of the changing of the guards which was exciting to watch.

Me doing WKU things at non-WKU locations

Cafe Bella Maria

We found the cutest place ever to eat at for lunch. Making sure I stayed true to my American ordering habits, once it was my turn I said, “I have a complicated order” and proceeded to create my own sandwich for them to make.

Cafe Bella Maria

Parent Trap House

Next stop was to the Parent Trap House. Before we went I asked if it was the Mom’s or the Dad’s house. Surprisingly it was the Mom’s (she lived in London) and not the Dad’s (he lived in Napa Valley).

Anywho, the neighborhood was absolutely beautiful and the worst car parked on the street was a BMW that couldn’t have been more than 5 years old. Safe to say my 1999 Honda Civic and I would have it in perfectly here. We also found out that the house in fact was part of an apartment complex and not a standalone house as the movie portrays it to be (learning so much this first week!!!)

The house in real life

The house in the movie

Camden Market

Then we went to the Camden Market where approximately 9863479 vendors lined the streets. We walked around and looked in the little shops until we decided that all the walking we had done for the day was finally catching up to us.

British Museum  

At 5:23 PM we arrive at the British Museum. For all those who are unaware, the British Museum closes as 5:30 PM. With one quick lap around the museum, we spent the remainder of our 7 minutes sitting on a bench in one of the exhibit halls. Again, the amount of walking was setting it.

Tortilla

So far the only time I have felt truly homesick here is when I caught myself thinking about El Maz's tacos. To combat this we ate at Tortilla that night where I was able to get 3 tacos and ease my nerves.

Blooms Pizza Café

Almost immediately afterwards, Kristen and I went to a café near our hotel. I got a bacon and cheddar sandwich and a bag of mnm’s. I’m just trying to see if the “Study Abroad 15” is real or not.




Sunday, January 15^th

Hampton Court Palace

The school took us to Hampton Court Palace on our way back to the manor. We got to explore King Henry VIII’s and William III’s living quarters which was really cool since we are learning about them in British Studies. They had free audio tours which was super nice since most of the rooms were pretty barren as far as informative plaques went.

Me laughing at the fact that the castle I'm living in is prettier than one we were visiting

On the ride back I was once again reminded that I still cannot fall asleep on buses.

In summary, London was 10/10. Next stop: Edinburgh, Scotland!

Fire Drill Misery

By Emma Daubenmerkl, Spring 2017

            

           The day started out like every other (every other day being the past two weeks that I’ve been at Harlaxton). I woke up to my alarm clock going off at 6:45 a.m.. I turned it off and bumbled around in the dark to find my shoes and glasses without waking my roommate up. After checking all the notification that I got on my phone the previous night (it was like 1 Facebook notification and a Snapchat-- I’m so popular!). I proceeded to follow the rest of my morning routine by grabbing my towel and all my other shower supplies. Like I said, it started out like any other morning.

            It was halfway through my shower when the morning took a turn for the worst. I heard this strange screeching sound very faintly. It took me a second to recognize what the sound was.

Are you kidding me? I thought. The fire alarm was going off. I quickly turned the shower off and grabbed my glasses. Now what? I looked around. There was no way that I was going outside in a towel. I don’t care if I’m the last one out there; I am going to put clothes on first. I reached up, quickly put my pajamas back on, and ran out of the bathroom.

In doing so, I ran into a few other girls on my floor. I wasn’t the last one! We walked to the main staircase where Megan (one of the interns) was standing holding a paper that had fire on it. Can’t go that way. We ran to the Cedar Staircase on the other side of the floor, regretting the decision as one of the girls slipped and fell down amidst the chaos. She quickly got back up and we continued our way to the nearest exit, screeching fire alarm still in the background.

Huffing and puffing, we got to the second floor (we started on the fifth) only to discover yet another faculty member holding a fire sign, warning us of the false fire down the adjacent corridor. With only seven minutes to evacuate the building I was starting to think we were never going to get out. We frantically ran through the state rooms, ending up in the Conservatory.  Perfect! That’ll take us outside at least.

We ran through the green house and out of the manor. No one in sight, we realized we were on the wrong side of the Manor. After running to find the rest of the school, we realized our RA was nowhere to be seen and we stood around like idiots for a few minutes (which was probably just a few seconds but it felt like a really long time) until someone finally called us over.

I ran into a few of my friends, many complaining about forgotten glasses and being awakened too early,  as I sit there soaking wet and shivering (I’m not bitter at all). Attendance was taken and I proceeded to complain to everyone about how I was in the shower when the alarm went off (as one does in situations like that).

Eventually we were allowed to go back inside (we still don’t know if we made the time or not… hopefully we won’t have to go through that again). I trudged up the five floors to my room, went into the bathroom to grab all of my stuff and proceeded to my room. As I passed by some of the other girls on my floor said, “Does anyone else feel personally victimized by the professors this morning?” I for sure did!

Pinch Me, I Must Be Dreaming

By Miranda Lindmark, Spring 2017

Three weeks ago I left my home in Kansas to move into a castle and travel the world for four months (I’m sorry, what? Is this real life?) On January 4^th, 150 students from all over the world arrived in Grantham, England ready for the adventure of a lifetime. Wide-eyed, tired, and fuelled with wonder and adrenaline, most of us were about to experience something unlike anything we have ever done before.

As the days have passed, the newest class of Harlaxton students is beginning to settle and form a regular routine. Students are getting involved, meeting new friends, preparing for British Studies quizzes, and planning trips all over the world. As I talk to friends & family back home, I continue to be asked questions like, “How is studying abroad?”, “How does it feel?”, “Do you miss home?”, “Are things really different there?”, and more.

Just last week, our Student Development Office asked us all a question. “What has been surprising about your transition?” Throughout the week, students stopped by the question board posted outside of their office to anonymously post their answers.

Here are some of the answers that I read:

“How fast I spent all my money.”

“Food is so good here!”

“No ice.”

“I feel like I’ve been here for so long!! It’s so amazing!”

“I never thought I could be so happy in such a short amount of time.”

“The past two weeks have gone by so slowly, and I love it!”

“My room is freezing all of the time!”

“ I want my mom.”

“What’s up with the heaters?”

“Hot or cold water only.”

“It feels like summer camp now.”

“The sun doesn’t exist here.”

“I am amazed at how beautiful this place is.”

You can see some common themes here. The food is different, the weather is cold, the Manor is beautiful, and being here for two weeks has felt like an incredible eternity…

For me, the biggest thing that has surprised me since arriving has been my mix of emotions. As of now, almost three weeks in, it is hard for me to put many of my feelings into words. I’m living in a gorgeous, Hogwarts-esque manor, in a country thousands of miles from home, meeting incredible people, with countless opportunities in front of me. It has been incredible, scary, exhilarating, exhausting, and wonderful. The entire world is right at my fingertips, and it still seems unreal. I have been thrown out of any sort of comfort zone I once had, and I am loving every minute of it. 

England vs. America: First Impressions

England vs. America: First Impressions

Written by: Caroline Farley

When going to a new country for the first time, it’s guaranteed that you’re going to find many things that are different from what you’re used to. Even going to another English-speaking country, there are still plenty of things I’ve found oddly different about England. These things, though not necessarily bad, definitely caught my attention when I first encountered them. Here you will find a list of nine things that I’ve noticed are not quite normal from what I’m used to in America.

1.      Greetings!

Hearing someone say to me, “Hello, you alright?” definitely caught me off guard the first several times. I would think to myself, “Of course, I’m fine. Does something look out of the ordinary?” or “Do I look okay?” I figured out, eventually, that this is the equivalent saying “Hi, how are you?” Another common word, “cheers,” is typically used to reply to someone after they’ve thanked you. It sounds weird to someone like me who doesn’t normally say it, but it’s kind of refreshing and cool, actually.

2.      Driving – It’s Just Not Right.

This may be a pretty obvious difference, but seeing things from the opposite side of the road is definitely something I noticed right away and had to get accustomed to. Now that I’ve been living in England for a few months, I’ve actually gotten used to it and have stopped trying to get in the driver’s seat of my meet-a-family’s car, since the driver’s seat in on the right. (Okay, so that only happened once.) I also find it interesting that the majority of cars here are standard shift rather than automatic. I guess we’ve got it pretty good back in the States, only having to use one foot to drive and all.

3.      Pinkies Out!

I found out almost straight away that the British really do love tea and drinking it is a much more common event than in the US. When out at a restaurant or having a meal in a British home, it is extremely likely that you’ll be offered tea (and usually coffee as well) after you’ve finished eating. Tea is a staple item in day-to-day life, and I personally find it to be a lovely tradition.

4.      Planes, Trains, and Automobiles – Oh My!

One difference I’m most thankful for, I’d have to say, is the abundance of public transportation. Especially since I don’t have access to my own car, it’s great to have multiple reliable (and decently affordable) ways to get where I need to go. Want to go to London? Hop on a train for an hour. Flying from Stansted Airport to Barcelona for the weekend? Split a taxi with a few friends and maybe even save a few pounds (and definitely some time) on a train. I wish we had more trains and larger bus systems where I’m from, but I’m okay with being on my own schedule and having the freedom to drive myself whenever I need.

5.      The Potty Problem

If you’re out and about in England and you ask where the “bathroom” or “restroom” is, you’re bound to get some pretty strange looks. To the British, a “bathroom” literally means the room where you bathe and “restroom” isn’t really used at all. (You don’t actually rest in there, do you?) It’s been pretty interesting getting used to calling it the “toilet” or “WC” (short for “water closet”), but it kind of makes more sense than the typical words Americans use, especially when referring to public toilets. The British tend to like to keep things simple and call things what they actually are, so why do we, Americans, like to make things so complicated?

6.      #JustBritishThings

Speaking of different terms used for things, here’s a brief list of some things I’ve come across have different names in England:

 

shop = store

post = mail

boot = trunk of a car

car park = parking lot

rubbish = trash

lorry = delivery truck

chips = french fries

crisps = potato chips

mince = ground beef

courgette = zucchini

aubergine = eggplant

lift = elevator

jumper = sweater

knackered = exhausted

gutted = disappointed

7.      Money, Money, Money

 

“Thank you. That’ll be 10 quid.” Quid? What in the world is that? It sounds like a sea creature if you ask me. In Britain, as you may imagine, the money used is different from US dollars. The British pound, or “quid” if you’re using slang, is the currency used throughout the United Kingdom. (I won’t even get into the fact that both £1 and £2 come in coin form. Talk about having a ton of change….) Being from America, knowing I would have to deal with currency conversion for a few months brought about a small bit of anxiety. Thanks to Brexit, however, the value of the pound has gone down, which makes for happier Americans like myself when having to deal with pesky conversion rates.

8.      Here’s a tip…

When you go to a restaurant it’s normal to tip, right? Wrong. In England, as well as other places in Europe, tipping is not a common habit. I thought this was rather strange until I realized that more often than not, there is an automatic “service charge” added to the bill at sit-down restaurants. If you ever find yourself eating somewhere in Europe, be sure to check the bill before tipping (and even look up the tipping custom if you’re still unsure) because chances are it’s technically been included. I find this pretty handy, actually. It takes care of the hassle of figuring out the tip, and everyone is satisfied.

9.      Paper, Plastic, or Load Up Your Arms Because You’re Too Cheap to Pay?

This difference seems small, but it’s one that I find to be really odd and oftentimes annoying. Normally you’re offered either paper or plastic at grocery stores in America. Well, friends, I’m here to tell you that every time I have gone to a grocery here, I have had to pay for my bags. The cost is only a few cents (or pence, because we’re British territory), but it’s still a somewhat aggravating. I understand that the goal is to get people to use reusable bags, but I still forget mine just about every time. Thanks for trying to encourage me to be more environmentally friendly, England, but this is one thing I still haven’t quite caught on to.

These are just a few things I have paid special attention to during my time in the UK. There are plenty of other things you may find odd when visiting this lovely (a very common word in England) country. And on the slight chance there are any British folk reading this, do not fret, I think very highly of your country and I’m sure there are even more things you find odd about America and it’s people. We’re a pretty interesting bunch.

Portugal Adventures

 Portugal Adventures

Lao Tzu wrote that “a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step,” but that first step may not always be perfect. My journey to Lisbon, Portugal began with a few gross missteps.

            After learning that I made a booking mistake - that I would be flying into Portugal a day earlier than my travel companion - I had little time to act. At 3:30 P.M. on Thursday I hastily threw together a backpack of my belongings, double-checking my passport and I.D. were present. I jumped in my pre-ordered Street Car, which came 5 minutes later than the desired time of 4 P.M.. Due to the lateness, I missed my train by a minute and had to buy another ticket to King’s Cross for 37 pound. From King’s Cross I hopped on the Underground to Heathrow and skimmed through security to make it to my plane right before departure. Collapsing in my seat was the sweetest joy in the world.

            After hours of soaring through the night sky, we touched down in the Lisbon airport right before midnight. Next to me on the plane sat a couple from Sintra, and they gladly directed me to Metro station. Shaken from last-minute realizations and weary from worrying, I thanked them, purchased a one-way ticket, and got on the subway.

Each city is a hive of buzzing bees, but each hive provides a distinct flavor of honey. Lisbon met me with night skies and empty subway cars full of red plastic seats with purple cushioning. I rode the red line to Alameda before switching to the green line that carried me to Rossio, as instructed, and watched through the smudged windows. Every announcement on the train reminded me of Texas, my home; the five years of Spanish taken at school as well as casually at my house provided me with at least a ground plan of what was being said. Each stop along the way had its distinct flair, as each one was its own work of art - Oriente housed the mural of an epic battle of comic book characters underwater, while others held rough drafts of running rabbits and caricatures of Portuguese authors and musicians. Though my mind fogged with fatigue, each slowing down of the subway train gave me an incentive to peek out and see what wonder was coming up.

At Rossio I hopped out and emerged from the underground. No one walked the streets around me, but outside of my vision the city was surely alive. Wails and chatter burst disembodied from where I could not see and made the large square seem a place inhabited only by ghosts. This was disorienting to say the least, and I had no idea which street branching off from the square held my hostel.

Rumbling broke the night as a tarnished yellow garbage truck swung around a corner and into the square. A skinny man in a bright vest hopped off the back of the truck and began to collect trash the restaurants set out for the nightly collection. He must have sensed my fright, my futile attempt to look like some practiced city-dweller with a map clenched in my fist, and called out to ask me if I was lost. Admitting I was, I conversed with him in Spanish as he reassured me and showed me the way, away from this Praca da Figueira to my hostel. Indeed travelling alone can be scary, but the kindness of strangers appears in unusual places. 

After checking in and falling into bed, I congratulated myself on getting to Lisbon alone. Sleep caught up with me fast enough, and soon turned into another day.

I woke early and dressed before going down to the hostel kitchen. There breakfast was being made, and I shared in crepes which I topped with Nutella and honey before strolling about Lisbon. Pointless wandering is a hobby of mine, to see the sky brightened with the familiarity of day, to wander past statues and fountains and shopping centers. I began my ascent up a hill to see where it would go, and soon found the city shot up this incline. I passed the out-branching of a dog park and kept trekking up the hill, passing a garden, a graffitied wall sprayed with fat purple flowers, and several buildings decorated with blue and white ceramic tiles. At the summit I reached the outlook which provided a view of all of Lisbon - breathtaking. White-sided buildings topped with clay roofs, all stacked and scattered in magnificent scramble. Once I’d seen the view from the summit, I descended and went to the Rossio station to meet Nate as he came into the city.

After picking up Nate and dropping off his stuff at the hostel, we went to grab lunch, which consisted of an open-faced sardine & pepper sandwich with rum. We then sauntered to Santini, one of the best ice cream places in Lisbon. I ordered two scoops of a flavor called Radio Comercial, which was a combination of purple passion fruit, lime & orange zest, and bits of raspberry. How excellent it was, to wander the streets of Lisbon, around fountains, flower booths and street performers, all while eating ice cream that tasted like fireworks.

We jumped on the Metro after this and raced to the Lisbon Oceanarium to get there before the closing time at 8. Nate and I arrived just before the ticket office closed, and we hurried inside. Walking around the main aquarium full of sharks, manta rays, sunfish, barracuda, etc., we got to see otters, penguins, puffins, and other beautiful sea creatures. My favorite part of the aquarium was the deep-sea area, where jellyfish floated through the blackness bathed with purple light and the spider crabs crept like dog-sized pale orange insects up the walls. There’s something about being in an aquarium that fills one with peace - a lightness, a forgetfulness of petty troubles and a turning to the awe and appreciation of something bigger. We should all visit an aquarium more often.

The next morning, Nate & I took a train to Sintra, a small and beautiful town in the pine forest of Serra de Sintra. On every edge of this town is a remnant of a castle, such as the Moorish Castle sitting on top of the hill overlooking Sintra, and in Sintra’s winding streets you can see white spires rising out of the forest. We made our 20 minute walk through the bustling town, past an enclave carved out of the side of a cliff dominated by a waterfall and graffitied with heaps of hearts, and made it to Quinta da Regaleira.

Quinta da Regaleira is a 20th century estate made up of a romantic palace and chapel and sprawling tropical grounds with lakes, grottoes, wells, fountains, and numerous statues. To give a bit of history, this land was owned by the Viscountess of Regaleira before being sold off in 1892 to Carvalho Monteiro, known as “Monteiro the Millionaire.” Monteiro and his Italian architect Manini built many of the features of Quinta da Regaleira, including the house, and Monteiro made sure to include in the estate symbols of the Knights Templar, the Masons, and dark alchemy, all which fell within his ideologies. On the death of Monteiro, the Quinta da Regaleira was purchased by Waldemar d’Orey as a summer residence for his family and then bought in 1987 by a Japanese businessman. The local government reclaimed Quinta da Regaleira in 1997 and it opened to the public in 1998.

The attraction of Quinta da Regaleira that interested me most - as well as many other tourists - is the Initiation Well. After wandering the grounds for a while, Nate & I walked across rocks emerging from a mossy lake into a cavern under a waterfall. This cave was a lot longer than we thought, and tunneled under most of the estate straight to the bottom of the Initiation Well. Just to clarify, there are two wells of this kind on the estate, and they are both known as “Inverted Towers” because neither of these were used as wells but for initiation rights. The well we did not enter - known as the “Unfinished Well” - contains architecture outlines by Masonic principles while the well we did enter contains references to the Knights Templar and nine platforms, which are rumored to be a calling-back to Dante’s nine circles of Hell, nine sections of Purgatory, and nine skies of Paradise.

Nate & I ascended the spiral stairs, which were only wide enough to fit two people shoulder-to-shoulder. This is enough to dizzy anyone as they ascend to the pool of light above that indicates the sky. Eventually, we burst out the top and exited the well through a secret door, a slab of stone that spun on a center axis if you pushed a corner of it. If this place didn’t make me feel like I was in Uncharted, I don’t know what will.

One can truly see why Quinta da Regaleira was a summer residence, a place hinting at adventure and secrets, old towers and castles peeping through the pines and tropical trees. I experienced a sensation I’d felt occasionally before while I was there, but only at Quinta da Regaleira could I begin to describe it. Sometimes you get the feeling that you are destined to be in a certain place, as if you’re experiencing deja vu. It’s like you’ve dreamt it before, but if you seek to recall that dream it will only draw away from you. This is what I felt in Sintra, in the chiming of church bells and the wind rushing through the tall pines along the sides of the mountains. I do not know if destiny is real, or if we’re just all following our own seething personal desires, but I know in that moment, I was destined to be in Quinta da Regaleira.

Later that day we returned to Lisbon via train and decided to stop off at a taco place a Harlaxton alum had recommended we visit: Pistola & Corazon Taqueria. We took the Metro down to that section of town and then spent 30 cold minutes searching until at last we found the little place. A bookcase took up an entire wall, filled with volumes from America and Mexico as well as jars and knick-knacks of all kinds, and the bar was backed by a wall of corrugated metal painted red. Nate & I seated ourselves and ordered a cocktail called Te Crees Muy Muy - ironically enough, considering what happened later on - which consisted of passion fruit, vanilla, tequila reposado, and lemon. To imagine what this tasted like, you have to think of a very sweet, frothy lemon cream soda, minus the carbonation. It was delicious.

Next came the food. I was craving something spicy, so I ordered tingas de res - 3 tacos of shredded beef in guajillo tomato sauce, garlic, & other spices and served with onions and cilantro on corn tortillas. The waitress warned me this was spicy, but I nodded my understanding and ordered a horchata - rice milk & cinnamon - as well just in case it was as hot as she promised. I grew up in San Antonio, Texas, and have been eating a range of Mexican food since I was little. I could handle the heat, my poor brain thought. So when the waitress brought our tacos, I ladled on the hottest sauce, lifted the first taco, and took a big bite.

I pause here to call you back to the cocktail I’d previously consumed. The phrase “te crees muy muy” does not mean “you think very very” or “you think you’re very very.” This is a slang phrase that was probably trying to warn me of my present actions. “Te crees muy muy” means - in more casual terms, “You think you’re all that” / “You think you’re a badass.” And so Julia did.

And so she was wrong.

The first bite was fine, until I swallowed and the spices were in my throat. Then I was the equivalent of a fire-breathing dragon. My first instinct was to ration my horchata out so I didn’t drink it down all at once. When that didn’t work, I just kept shoveling the spicy tacos into my mouth, to try to give my mouth something else to do other than focus on the pain.

For the sake of my pride, I tried to keep looking cool, but that’s a bit hard with the sensation of a hundred suns exploding on your tongue. I asked Nate to order another horchata, because I would just look like a wheezing embodiment of teary desperation if I asked, and then the worst possible thing in the world happened.

“Of course,” Nate said, apparently assuming I was done with the horchata in front of me. I watched, as if in slow motion, as Nate picked up the horchata we shared and put the glass to his lips. I swore a warped version of “Ave Maria” played as the cold, rice milk goodness trickled down the glass and Nate consumed the last life-giving swallow. My heart clenched, my eyes narrowed, and I was so blind with pain that I cannot recall the scathing words that rolled off my lips. But know this - hell hath no fury like a woman who has eaten agony-inducing tacos and Nate has drunk her last gulp of horchata.

Nate apologized and went to the waitress to order me another horchata before running to the bathroom because of his bladder’s pressing needs. I finished the tacos and cradled my new glass of ambrosia, sipping it through the straw to recover as my face fluctuated between waves of numbness and burning. Nate came back a bit sooner than expected, only to explain in a low voice that he could not use the facilities because two people were having quite a “private moment” in the bathroom upstairs and screamed at him to get out when he entered. After a final horchata to soothe my burning to a low flame, we walked back to the Metro. And that was how our last night in Portugal ended, me with a high coming down from the pain and Nate with a desperate need to pee.

Portugal wasn’t what I thought it would be, but it was amazing, honestly the best place I’ve been to thus far. Though it was a relief to get back to Harlaxton after that long flight back, I’ll never forget the adventures I had there. 

Written by Julia Toney