iPads and Babies

My PI's blog post about iPads and babies!

It's a little bit a lot cool and sums up a big chunk of my summer.

Dance Party

Last published May 1, 2013?! Holy geez! Has my life just gotten that much more boring? Or have I gotten that much more lazy? Probably both.

Anyways, no posts about the end of my study abroad because I'm guessing that I was too depressed and in denial to want to write about how I was feeling. Maybe pictures will come once I can get my act together.

Summer's been strange. Readjusting to home and Stanford campus. I really enjoyed my work with the Stanford Language and Cognition Lab and am considering whether I should return there in the fall (and potentially do an honors thesis with them?!)

Currently working on a scholarship application that's been killing me for the past three weeks. My parents have gone hiking with one of their friends, and I'm home alone trying to finish these nightmare-inducing essays.

Naturally, an hour and a cup of coffee later, a dance party ensues. Join me!

Beauty-ful

Although my essay is about to be slaughtered alive in 20 minutes, it's such a beautiful day that I don't think I'll even mind very much. :)

PS: Liverpool and Lake District pictures, along with Christ Church Meadow stroll pictures, should hopefully be on their way to this blog soon.

From leaning outside the window of our study room: a tree in the garden.

Just Found

Here's a blog post from the bus station in Heathrow I forgot to post. Oh silly me ^^ :

Trip typically horrible. Both my tapenade and my St. Nectaire were stolen by the hyper-paranoid security guard, who informed me that it wasn't just liquids and gels that had to be confined to under 100mL, but “mushy/soft pastes” as well. Apparently almost all types of cheese (except for “tome” and “gruyere,” she explains) fall into this category. It goes without saying that ground-up bits of olives do too. I think I must be tired because as she explained this to me I started to get all teary-eyed and choked up, and I felt like punching something.

I tried to spend the duration of the trip “businessman style.” I always thought it would be cool to sit down in the plane and not move until the plane touched down. No entertainment of any kind except for people-watching, reading newspapers over strangers' shoulders, and thinking. After a mild hour and a half of this, I realized it's really not all it's cracked up to be.

After a Caffe Nero panini for lunch (man, bread is just such a wonderful food/tastes so good), I'm currently waiting at the bus station to meet up with my friend to take the bus to Oxford. It's so strange to think that I've been in this exact place three months ago, with no idea what it was like where I was going/what I had gotten myself into. Sitting here people-watching all the foreigners, I can't help but smile about how much less foreign I feel here compared to back then.  

Second Beginnings

It's strange to be back in Oxford. I feel somehow simultaneously too busy to post on my blog, but too aimless and distracted to do any work. Hopefully both of these feelings will subside soon. 

Lots has happened since I left France. I've moved into my new room, a cute little lonely single. I've visited Christ Church and Windsor Castle on organized trips with the rest of the Stanford bunch. I've "gotten lost" with R.Mata in London (he doesn't like his world to feel small. No plans or maps allowed). In between the more noteworthy events, I've been:

...trying to get back into the swing of things with trips to the library. 

...getting addicted to a TV show which I objectively feel like I shouldn't be enjoying as much.

...exploring some of the culinary options that I missed first time around (read: there are delicious             bagels within walking distance, and although the vegan salad bar in Covered Market comes alarmingly close to self-parody, the food makes you forgive them immediately).

...cooking food with N.Avery (today we might've been a little ambitious with the flop of a fried rice, but it was still okay).

...waiting for the Oxford kids to get back and fill this semi-dead town. 

The Stanford kids this time around seem to generally be of a different vibe. Calmer, tamer, more timid. It's strange to be the one that knows my way around; the first couple days I was bombarded with all sorts of questions. It felt like I had turned overnight into some sort of tour guide or ambassador. But I didn't mind at all. Answering those questions made me realize how much I've come to like this place. I can't wait for another great quarter. :) 

Nothing very "photography" to see, but here are a few standard touristy pictures to serve as hard evidence that I'm alive. 

Christ Church dining hall, famous for its affiliation with the one in the Harry Potter films (it's fuzzy on whether it was actually the one filmed, or whether the one filmed was just inspired from it). This would have been a nicer visit without the massive throngs of French middle-schoolers swarming everywhere.

Windsor Castle. The flag means that the queen is in!

Changing of the guard. I wonder how old that dog is...these musicians must get tired of the playing the same piece everyday. Or maybe there's a rotation of pieces. 

R.Mata and A.Reyes, adventuring in London. We had to go into the Disneyland store. 

Meet my new roommate, Stitch. I splurged 7 pounds on him but it was worth it. Took pictures of him hanging out in London all through the afternoon. This is just an indicative one; I'll spare you all of them. (at a clothing shop on Oxford Street, waiting for R.Mata to decide between two ca-ute shirts.

Hyde Park stroll. Sunny but windy!

We're getting better! This was legitly a two course meal. Although nothing we make is ever fancy, it's usually yummy.  :)

Leaving L'Artaudie, and Oxford Pt. II

Wow. Tomorrow will be the beginning of Oxford, take 2. Although it's already been three weeks of break, it will be surreal to be back. I'm very thankful to have a second chance at this study abroad thing. Hopefully I can kick my now-mushy brain back into shape so as to be competent at my schoolwork. 

A little checklist of things to do:

1. Spend a bit more time in London. 

2. Go to Atomic Burger.

3. Have a Bee Sting from Far from the Madding Crowd.

4. Find a cello and join Corpus Christi's orchestra

5. Take dance lessons. 

6. Make my tutor like me. 

7. Amsterdam? Paris? Berlin? Dublin? Any of these?

8. Go to the pizza truck and eat food from said pizza truck. 

9. More tea. 

L'Artaudie says goodbye in typical glorious sunset fashion. Zero tweaking necessary here; it's perfect non-doctored. Have a strange sinking feeling that it'll be a while before I see this place again, but trying not to think about that right now...

Did Someone Say It Was April? (Une P'tite Balade)

Frank, the neighbor, using a device on the back of his tractor to chop wood. 

Me, serious.

As the snow melts off tree branches, you get something that resembles christmas tree lights.

Baren trees. 

Grass, frozen in action.

Ice crystals gathered on a tree branch.

My uncle, thinking about how to best proceed when the path has become a stream. 

That's the house, with a tree branch in focus.

It's April?

Me, not so serious.

L'Artaudie, the view from the road. My uncle's house is the one to the left of the one in the middle, with the four windows visible.

Saint-Tropez, Menton, Monaco

The best of the trip pictures below!

The backyard of the house we stayed in on Monday night, in Saint-Tropez. The coastal town is soaked in wealth; it's the kind of place were people casually park their yachts while they're shopping at Hermes, where people like Beyonce go on vacation (but actually). My uncle's friend, a more-than-mildly-sketch businessman, lives there.

$ everywhere. The charming little pedestrian streets might seem cuter to me if all the huge brand names would be less conspicuous. 

My uncle's friend's adorable car that he zips around town with so that people smile at his rude style of driving rather than getting worked up when he almost runs them over (he explained this to us). 

At the farmer's market with the gangstar himself.

In this town, you gotta have a boat to be in the cool club, even if it's just a small one.

Menton on the one sunny day. The buildings are a hodge-podge of colors piled up, rickety-like, on the hillside.

In Monaco, a seagull takes off.

Architecture in front of the prince of Monaco's palace.

Monaco (or as my grandma says, "Monaco-co-co"). The city-country is only a 15 minute drive from the apartment in Menton.

The Lifespan of a Sunset

Obviously I'm still alive, having successfully copy-pasted my March 30th word document after returning from my trip last night. I have a few more pictures to post from our trip, but before that I want to post about something entirely more important: tonight's sunset.

I think this must be the thousandth time I've taken this exact picture from the same spot. This is the first time the trees have been bare. 

Every L'Artaudie sunset is different. There's one almost every night that unfolds before you like some sort of slow-moving painting, but you have to be careful to not miss the surprisingly narrow window of time. I can tell already that this one is going to be a subtle and un-assuming one, but beautiful nonetheless. 

The colors deepen as the sun begins to dip below the band of dark cloud.

Three layers of tree-line as the sun begins to dip lower.

The last glimmer of sun, as the clouds above light up with a bright orange. The sunset for the tonight is over. Some beautiful lighting remains in the clouds for at least 10 more minutes. 

March 30th

Writing to you all from the internet-less lands of Menton, France. I've decided to shift modes from reading to writing because last night, I finished the one English book that I was able to find worth buying: Super Sad True Love Story. I recognized the title as something my uncle had liked and suggested a while ago, so I decided to give it a try. In the end I'm not sure it was really worth buying.... it only gripped my attention for a solid third of the 350ish page length. Although at first I appreciated the quirkiness of the writing style, I quickly tired of it and began to find it, instead, rather pretentious. The only thing missing from author Shteyngart's glamour shot on the inside of the back cover is an #instragramfilter to complete the vibe he seems to be going for. If you're looking for literary subtlety, you won't find it in this book; the tropes of turbulent-inter-generational-immigrant-family-dynamics and a crippling fear of death all but hit you over the head over and over in a cumbersome way that reaches out from the story rather than pulls you into it. Overall I'd give this book a measly 2 out of 5.

Anyways, I'm not sure if my bad review is entirely due to the book itself or is being polluted by the general tone of this trip thus far. What could have been a relaxing Mediterranean get-away has turned into a dreary unhappy monotony. The weather in Menton is Oxford-status abysmal, and what's all the more depressing is that it's never supposed to be this way. I was promised California-status sunshine and instead we've had virtually nothing but gray skies and cold rain. Hrmph!

To top things off, I caught some weird illness that seems to be the combination of all symptoms at once (except God has managed to spare me from a runny nose. Can we hear a “yay” :| ). I've been rather melodramatic about the whole affair, but my grandma and uncle just shoved some pills at me and said it'd go away quickly. They kept saying it was probably just a tiny “angine,” no big deal at all, etc etc. Unfortunately with no internet in this house and no pro-bilingual at hand I had no clue what their diagnosis actually was – until, that is, I talked to my dad on the phone today. Through my mom's translating I learned that the english equivalent was “strep throat.” Woop dee doop, no big deal! Hoping there's some miscommunication involved here because I'd rather not have that particular illness. In third grade, I spent my birthday in bed with it and missed the walkathon. Bad times. It's even worse being sick around old people because it makes you feel both a bit scared and a bit prematurely guilty. My grandma just seems to smile and nod matter-of-factly when she tells me “angine” is super contagious, and a few minutes later she complains of a soar throat. Ugh.

The unhappiness of the sickness is augmented by my hunger for bread. I feel that the thorough lack of carbohydrates is withering me away. With no access to even the most laughable of the carbs, that infamous old buddy matzah, this is surely the hardest Passover I've ever passed over. Tuesday night I will eat all the things.

Only two solidly good things have come out of this trip. This picture, which I took during a quick late afternoon gelato-run to Italy. I changed nothing about it except I tilted it a bit for a straight horizon, yet there's a pastel-y-ness to the background contrasted with a sharpness to the peoples' silhouettes that somehow came out. What do you think? Or is it too cliché?

Second happy thing: the fact that the apartment we're staying in has a hallway that smells slightly like PEZ. I can't quite put my finger on where the smell is coming from (their detergent? the heat radiators?) but in any case it's one of the better smells I've smelled in my life. It's one of those smells I wish I could bottle up and save and have around because it makes me smile.  

Menton Tomorrow

Tomorrow I'm off on a road trip with Dominique and Mimi to Menton, the town smack dab in the middle of this beautiful screenshot. Italy is to the right of that dark squiggly; that water's the Mediterranean! I'm excited to finally be able to say I've been to Italy, but there's (of course) a tragic twist: during the whole of our stay, the rules of Passover will be presiding over my life. Meaning no authentic pizza or pasta for me. :(

This will be my first Passover away from family. I won't even be going to a seder at all; my uncle and grandma are both Catholic, so tomorrow night will be like any other night for them. I think this fact, coupled with all the discussion about my brother's graduation, is reminding me of a feeling that I've been so far super successfully ignoring: I miss home. It's weird to say I'm homesick and that I miss my family when I'm with family, and I've always considered L'Artaudie a home. But I guess that's not good enough for me exactly right now. (It's weird to type this in my blog when at the same time I know that virtually its only readers are my family members...tearz for interweb non-popularity...but I can at least pretend that it's my blog written for a general audience and not just some weird round-about way of reminding them I'm alive).

There'll be no internet in Menton, and I was stupid enough to only bring one book that I've already finished, so for a week I'll have to busy myself with...hm. With...I guess...strolling around and being a tourist. Taking lots of pictures. Gambling in Monaco and casually becoming a millionaire. Arguing with my grandma about gay marriage (if I'm brave enough to bring up the subject again...). Not eating bread. Pretending I can draw (this illusion will last about half a day, as it always does). Hopefully not thinking too much, because that's really the recurring trap.

Skiing (or trying)

Today Dominique and a family friend took me out cross-country skiing. I felt awkward and by the end very sore, but I didn't fall, the views were beautiful, and we were virtually the only ones out on the threeish mile loop.

Dominique forging ahead.

Victory cappuccino! 

Piano Epicness

I think this is very much worth sharing with world. A talented musician that happens to also be one of my closest friends...check out his newly-released recordings of Rachmaninoff, Haydn, and Bach HERE! Do it!

Dippin' Dots

Today in L'Artaudie was the strangest weather event I've experienced in a while. Out of the sky fell, neither rain, hail, nor snow, but all-natural dippin' dots. DIPPIN' DOTS EVERYWHERE! Made me feel strangely nostalgic (or maybe just hungry?) for over-priced amusement park food.

End of Term

Sitting in L'Artaudie, it almost feels like summer vacation all over again...except every time I glance outside the window I see snow.

The end of Hilary term at Oxford was a blur, and I think I'm just beginning to realize that my first quarter abroad is actually over. I say first because half way through the term, I decided to stay on for an extra quarter. Something told me that I wouldn't be ready to say goodbye to that place after 10 weeks, and now I'm glad that I predicted the sentiments of my future time-slice so well. There are still so many places to see and things to learn. I'm excited to go back after what was one of my favorite quarters of college so far.

I feel like I've learned so much. The more I reflect, the more I feel my term crystallize into little mottos I can take with me. Examples: Don't be afraid of books; you can learn a lot by just opening one up. Kant is unbelievably confusing, and patience is crucial. Chicken kebab at Ahmed's should always be ordered with garlic sauce. Tesco Everyday Value is the way to go. After a hard day, a Ben's cookie is well deserved. Potatoes, eat only in moderation. Talking about music is a good way of making conversation. Don't be embarrassed to be an American; some people actually think it's really cool. British people can't dance. ETC ETC ETC.

My last weekend in England was spent on a two night trip to London. Got to eat (cheap) Japanese food, something which is impossible to do in Oxford. My roommate's friend was visiting from Dublin, and we spent the majority of our full day traipsing about the huge shops on Oxford Street. I pretended that I didn't feel totally out of my element, and our "shopping" trip ended up being really fun (in quotes because I didn't buy anything). We also spent a part of the afternoon in the beautiful Victoria and Albert Museum, and for lunch I had my first legit English breakfast  -- carbs on carbs on carbs. Ketchup everywhere to complete the tastiness.

After my roommate's friend had left to catch her flight in the late afternoon, we transfered to our hostel for the night and then nabbed 68 pound, premier tickets to Billy Elliot for 38 pounds one hour before the show started! We were feeling very proud of ourselves, and the show itself was AMAZING which added to the triumph.

I left early on Sunday morning and took the Tube to Heathrow for my flight to Lyon. After one night staying with my aunt and cousins in St. Etienne, I arrived at L'Artaudie on Monday at lunchtime.

Stratford-upon-Avon

The tradition of Friday day trips continued yesterday with a visit to Stratford-upon-Avon, Shakespeare's home. We were meant to wake up early and have a productive morning of library time before the 1pm departure, but that didn't happen; we ended up getting up just in time to grab Olive's paninis before heading onto the bus.

Once in Stratford, we strolled around a bit and found a really nice teahouse that we dwelled at for quite sometime. This was my first traditional English tea, and it's definitely something to repeat in the near future. Luckily there's a teahouse that's apparently really nice just across the street from Stanford House that I'm excited to try sometime.

After the table next us had left, I decided to take advantage of the scenery.

Behold, the deluxe "Afternoon Tea" for two, complete with (in ascending order), your choice of three types of sandwiches, scones, and dessert pastries.

My more humbling choice, the "Cream Tea:" tea of your choice with two scones, strawberry jam, and clotted cream. The tea I chose was the house blend.

We then proceeded to stroll around town looking like very lost tourists...The town itself is very charming, but you have very much the impression that you are in the middle of no where. I wouldn't be surprised if 97% of the town's economy revolved around Shakespeare. As we walked further and further into the residential areas, I couldn't help but feel like the breeze meant we were about to hit the coast, even though we were far far from it. I guess I just miss California.  

In the afternoon, we visit Shakespeare's birthplace, Anne Hathaway's cottage (his wife), and the chapel where Shakespeare is buried. All three of these places were neat, but also closed by the time we reached them. Woo.

The house where Shakespeare was born!

Some happy tourists gathered at the back of the house for a photo opp.

Spooky tree on the way to visit Shakespeare's grave.

The chapel (closed) where Shakespeare is buried.

More spookiness. 

Anne Hathaway's cottage, a 30 minute trek through a residential section. 

After these three main stops, it was time for a light dinner at the Black Swan, a famous pub across from the Swan Theater. The play we then went to go see was "The Orphan of Zhao." I really liked it -- it had a very consumeable and fast-paced, movie-esque plot -- but it didn't please some of the connoisseurs. In any case, it sparked interesting discussion on the bus ride back about the casting choices that had been made. The play is Chinese, set in China. But the vast majority of the cast was Caucasian, with the only Asian actors getting the roles of dog, servant, baby-sound-maker. It was very disconcerting how clear-cut this split in casting choice was. In any case, for 5 pound student tickets, it was a very good experience.