Lost in the mountains

I am in the Irish mountains, miles from civilization with my film class. My roommate has ridiculous night terrors and I have to get the hell out of there even if it means I have to sleep in the conference room by myself. It's very fucking annoying, when the person in the room with you talks so much in her sleep that you can not sleep. I have no idea why she doesn't get herself a single room.

Also, ghost stories do not frighten me, but being near a loud body of water at night when I can not see around myself at all is basically the most terrifying thing ever. Especially when you have to climb down a stairs in like wet moss and like hold on to your good friend Bryce while Michael stands behind you. Embarrassing, but what can you do?

Also, got good critisim about my script. It needs a sense of urgency, more behavior and my characters need more motivation, but I'm a good writer and my script is a page turner. Which is awesome. And unlike my biggest fears she did not once question my world, tell me it's impossible to make or crush my dreams.

I can now get married

There has been much joking and laughing, but I must admit that yes, I have become quite the cook. Unlike last semester, when I sit down to a meal, I enjoy it. I think "hmm" this is very good. I felt this was appropriate for my Europe blog, because you guys may be wondering what the hell is Naomi doing over there in Dublin. Answer, testing the culinary waters. The other night I made a nice baked pasta dish and tonight I made seafood, and pasta with carbonera sauce. The reason this is important is because my mother is always asking me, "how are you going to get married if you can't cook?" Obviously that is not valid because we no longer live in the 60s, but now I feel that I am able to get married.

Europe is Overrated: Give me America anytime.

Long time no blog! I know, I know. I actually have a lot to talk about. A lot. Lets start with my three trips. London was over a month ago, but I was in Rome last week and Paris the week before that for about 3 days each. I figured I'd talk about those three cities at once.

London:

I loved London. Sure Noah, the guy I was staying with, was MIA for an hour or so meaning for that time Flor and I were homeless. Luckily, Katharine was there to sign us in and give us shelter until he deign to come up from the gym. Then there was an uncomfortable night sleep where my leg cramped and I was sharing a twin bed with Flor. But beside that!

Sometimes you do the right thing with the right people. Going to London with Flor de Oro was absolutely right. Why? No one understands my obsession with history, Victorian England, King Henry the 8th, Queen Elizabeth and monarchies better then Flor. So going to Kensington Palace, the Tower and seeing the crown jewels with her was great. We got to see King Henry's legit armour, hang out with my British friend Hamilton who I hadn't seen in quite sometime and get caught in a London rainstorm, what could be better?

Paris
Paris was fun for the most part. We got to eat some wonderful Parisian food, hung out at the Eiffel tower 3 times, took a boat on the Seine and saw the most famous painting in the world, you know the Mona Lisa. Saw some wonderful old fashioned cathedrals... ie, Notre Dame. That was an interesting experience, since I was with an ex-catholic and a catholic. They felt the urge to pray and I was just like "wow cool architecture." Being pentecostal christian basically means Catholicisms way of doing things are not only foreign, but don't make me feel anyway(which is more interesting when we talk about Rome).

I don;t know what happened, but our last night I got all dressed up. I mean it, I wore a dress. And I was ready, we went to an erotic museum and I began to feel strange. Then we went out to a bar and started drinking. Instead of feeling excited and ready to run around and dance, I felt tired. I literally knocked out at the bar and got really pissed at anyone who tried to talk to me. Then I woke up and felt like shit. That little strange feeling became some sort of stomach virus, that was so bad i refused to leave the hotel on Sunday and stayed in while they went out. The feeling went out until I got home and drank several cups of tea, rested and then had a few hours before Rome.


Rome:

I was excited for Rome. The food, the people, the weather. After my initial shock of my god this is 70 degrees in October and the sun was beating me up, because I got used to overcast Dublin 45 degrees. I was with Yip, a boy from school, in a good sized hotel room in Rome. We ate lots of galato, MY NEW LOVE, took pictures and visited some great sites. We saw the Pope on Wednesday, took illegal pictures of the Sistine chapel and arrived too late at the Colosseum. There was also a four hour period where we convinced ourselves we'd get up early the next morning and go to Florence, but that was way too expensive, so we stayed in Rome, saw the Colosseum, walked through ruins and got stood up by our friend from the program.

Also there was an incident with an old couple, where he was smoking a cigar, so close that the smoke was going into our food, and making us uncomfortable. We were really polite about asking him to put it out and instead of him just saying, no, or just rearranging himself so that the smoke doesn't go to our food, he and his wife became belligerent. Picking on me, because I was drinking coke. Talking about how "Yankees always want their own way" and my fave telling us that if we were "in Japan or China" because Yip is Asian "or Nigeria then we could kick his ass, but here..." I didn't get the rest of this wonderful sentence, because even his wife realized that he'd gone too far. But the idea that they were soo mean to us, because we were Americans and worst Americans of color really hurt me. I was crying in the restaurant, not like bawling, but tears fell down my face, because I'd like to believe that in 2009, that sort of shit would be over.

It's weird going to places like France and Rome where no one speaks English and not only that, they don't like us, because we're American. Flor's friend has a story about the French making fun of Sept. 11 and turning away once they say their from America. I don't get it. We are great people. Sure there are the Bush's of the world, but as a whole we're a nice country, polite to tourists, helpful, interested in other cultures, etc. If we weren't then we wouldn't bother going to their countries and being abused.

Being away from Dublin, makes me love it more. Because the Irish, are wonderful. They like us, they converse with us and we have a great time when we go out. We never feel weird or out of place, because our accents are weird, or because of the color of our skin. There are less blacks in Dublin then the other cities I've been in and yet, I've never been mistreated and so Dublin is my fave city. Although I'd live in London first, I can imagine just coming back here staying in a hotel and relaxing with my friends without having to worry about racism, etc.