Da mein B-Day ein gewöhnlicher Arbeitstag war, ging ich abends ganz gemütlich mit meinen Mitbewohnern und unserem Kumpel Hamid ins Jaguar Shoes auf der Shoreditch High St, einen trinken. Was war aber mit einer Geburtstagsparty??? Tja, die veranstalteten wir aus besagten Gründen am Wochenende zuvor schon! Unsere Freundin Karen, die hier au pair ist und nächste Woche bereits, nach einem Jahr, London wieder verlassen wird, bot mir an, ob wir denn unseren gemeinsamen Geburtstag nicht in der tollen Bude ihrer Gasteltern austragen sollten! Denn, Karen hat zufälligerweise auch noch am selben Tag wie ich Geburtsag! Der ganze Plan kam bereits einen Monat vorher auf, und so kreierten wir fix eine Facebook-Gruppe und luden alles ein was wir mögen etc. Ein anderes wichtiges Argument, warum wir die Feier vor und nicht etwa am Wochenende nach unserem Tag geben wollten, war, dass Karens Gastfamilie ausnahmsweise die letzen beiden Augustwochen im Urlaub in Miami verbrachte und wir somit sturmfrei in South Kensington hatten :D  Perfekte Voraussetzungen also für eine fette Hasuparty. Und so lud ich im Vorfeld auch ein paar meiner engsten Freunde aus Deutschland ein und am Ende kam neben Norman auch Björn, der auch bisher noch nie hier war. Tobi schaffte es diesmal leider nicht, da er an dem Tag ein Vorstellungsgespräch hatte, was allerdings überflüssig gewesen sei, wie er mir diese Woche mitteile, und er sich deswegen etwas ärgere...naja alles in allem wurde es dann auch ein sehr lustiger Abend. Typisch London, internationale Partygäste aus Frankreich, Finnland, Schweden, Südafrika, England, Deutschland und Spanien...Karen und ich sorgten, neben einem vollen Kühlschrank mit Alkohol, sogar für Leckereien. Ich machte viele kleine leckere Partyfrikadellen und Karen Brownies zum Nachtisch, eine unschlagbare Kombination, die bei den Gästen verdammt gut ankam. Das recht große Haus, indem das Ganze stattfand, bot den meisten auch genügend Schlafmöglichkeiten, um in Ruhe seinen Kater am nächsten morgen ausschlafen zu können. Das Wetter spielte auch mit und wir erlebten wohl einer der letzten milden Sommerabende bei dieser Fete. Am nächsten Morgen wurde ich sogar von Sonnenschein, der durch die Klappläden lachte, geweckt...doch meine Ruhe sollte bald gestört werden, denn mein Mobiltelefon erhielt einen Anruf von Dominik Leßmeister vom ZDF....

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Norman "Kinyreaggae" beim Feiern im Favela Chic, einem unserer Lieblingsläden

I was drinking all afternoon in the Southern bar, and when I finally arrived home, Claire, Polly, and a scrawny looking youth in dirty shell-suit were sitting in the kitchen. The youth looked hungry, and he kept glancing around the kitchen expectantly.

Claire smiled at me - an unnerving sight which set my head spinning like a top. “Hello Biggy!” she cried.

(It is something I have often encountered in Scotland, typically in the places where I have worked. Scottish people consider it unreasonable that they should have to learn a name as difficult as Zbigniew, with its four syllables and unruly nest of consonants. Just as Maciek becomes “Magic,” Agnieszka becomes “Agatha,” and Jacek becomes “Jack,” Zbigniew is usually tidied up into “Biggy.”)

“What do you want?” I asked suspiciously. “Money?”

“Biggy, this is Callum!” Claire beamed. The youth looked nervous and vaguely affronted.

“Has he come to fix the plumbing?” I wondered impatiently.

“He is Polly’s friend,” Claire explained, in such a way that I immediately understood that “friend” was a euphemism for lover.

“That’s nice!” I growled.

Claire looked philosophical. “Polly needs to spend time with somebody younger… Somebody more her own age. Callum is a very clever boy.”

As I stalked off towards my bedroom, I heard her insist that Callum would be sleeping in the living room.

© Maeve Clancy 2008

What is wrong with you? SERIOUSLY! What the fuck is wrong with you? Which world do you live in? Some sort of a parallel universe? You are just about the weirdest person I have known! And, boy, have I had my share of knowing really weird people!

You seem like a nice person. But somehow, I think you faked it all. You are nothing but a pathetic little people pleaser. Like me, like me, is all you keep saying to yourself in your head when you hang out with new people! You room was like a pigsty! It was filthy! I don't know how to managed to find anything in there?! Also, you were a filthy little pig.. we've seen you wear the same clothes for days!

More than anything else, you were the most confused person I knew! You didn't know what you wanted.. and you still don't know what you want. You got married for ALL the wrong reasons. God help you and your marriage!

Good riddance,

Floyd Girl

Tilia forgot to mention yesterday afternoon when she proceeded to give me a fashion show in her bedroom. (Sounds kinky, but actually it was just girly advice for a job interview) Most things involving the two of us do seem to have potential for misconstruing the situation. 

Like when I told her my hips were annoying me and she said, "You have nice hips." Or when I caught a glance at her while she was undressing and admitted I was a bit envious of some of her bodily qualities. This is all platonic I assure you! Though it may not sound that way to some...

Tilia even mentioned the conclusion people are coming to and I lashed out with a "I'm not attracted to you!" which followed a 'no offense' comment. Because though I do find Tilia good looking, she's not really my type. And I don't think I'm hers either...if she had  a girlie type...

And yes, I was a little defensive with Tilia's Hasidic Jewish landlord, in retrospect I suppose I feel a little bit bad about it. But it is getting a little frustrating that the conclusion one comes to is always 'lesbianism' when two girls who just happen to spend a lot of time together because they're good friends, jobless and in need of a little entertainment. 

Boys have their bro-friends too, and they seem to spend more time together than the average jock spends with his girlfriend. We sort of just act like flatmates I suppose...we just don't have to live in the same flat, share a kitchen or bathroom. 

What's the big friggin deal people???

© Maeve Clancy 2008

"You look like a girl who never gets lost," said a sweet Indian gentleman at the local convenient store. 

"Why would you say that?"

It was only then he pointed to the compass around my neck that I realized where he was coming from. 

"Oh. No. I don't get lost very often." 

Which I don't. 

However, I do get desperate. 

So at the moment, I'm writing articles for this website, but I'm getting paid in American dollars, so I need to find a job in London fast. Especially since I just recently moved into a nice flat in Islington for 600 pounds a month in rent! Yeah, there was no deposit, I could afford it. 

Not to mention my flatmates are this boho chic "John and Yoko" (Tilia likes to call them) couple named Helga and Javier. Helga is white german who used to have blonde Rastafarian dreads and Javier is a hot Naveen Andrews look a like Cuban with long dark curls and a child's laugh. He watches sports alot, which turns me off. However there's something strangely sexy knowing I'm taking a shower in the same place right after him. Anyway, they're lovely, though they never seem to leave the house after work. Which is a shame because I can't take advantage of the pimp living room and flat screen TV too often without them breathing down my neck. 

I was actually worried about being attracted to Javier, since he is Helga's husband after all, and I like Helga so I wouldn't want to go there anyway...But I think the little crush has passed, as he seems to have little patience for the intellectual, the biggest turn on to me. He's a bit of a simpleton. But because of this, he  is extra super nice, which is sometimes a turn on. Plus the accent never hurt anything. 

He was showing me how to use the vacuum and when he said the word "suck" I wanted to faint. Yes, Tilia thinks this is foolish. I never suggested otherwise. 

But back to the job fiasco. It seems the more online applications I seem to fill out the more discouraged I've become. I'm about to get a job in a dinky shop somewhere close to where I live just to pay the rent. Isn't it great to have a Master's Degree? 

Sigh. 

I missed my plane today.  

It's not the end of the world, and actually, might work out in my favor, independent of the financial backlash, but emotionally, I've just been all over the place.

I managed to keep it together, for the most part, with all of my goodbyes.  There was one, yesterday, that completely tore me to shreds, but I knew it was going to months in advance, so I kind of prepared for it.

The friend in question just happens to be an incredibly compatible one; the two of us similar to the point of it being startling that we don't hate each other. 

We've had a fond comfort and even slight dependency on the support and presence of the other for years, socially and professionally, and I must honestly say, that as gung-ho as I am for change and progress, he's one of the only people it's ever been difficult for me to walk away from.

I sincerely and actively hope that distance won't negatively affect the affection there.  I wasn't able to put together a grand parting soliloquy, but I did tell him I loved him, and I think he already knows how much he means to me.  If not, he definitely has this URL and an RSS feed and knows now.

He thinks my manual tags are brilliant :)

Anyway, leaving work was a big production too.  I didn't think it would be.  I thought, yeah, I'm going to go work in this bar/nightclub for a while.  It's just a job, and when it's over, I move forward like a good, productive college graduate.

I wasn't expecting to fall in love with so many of the staff, and I really, really did.  The sendoff they gave me was one for the books, and some of those goodbye hugs will choke me up for years.

On my final night, I performed some Pat Benetar with the band, while half the staff moshed at the front of the stage, and several of my newfound friends snapped pictures of me.  

They also got me a cake, and a card, and at the end of the night threw a bunch of ish on me from the bar, and silly string.  

Two of the light techs (the third one had to leave, as he's still underaged, and when he gets off of work, is suddenly susceptible to the evils of alcohol and must be removed from venues he helps otherwise operate), stole me clothes from wardrobing and made me towel off in the green room and change.  

I apologized, personally, in advance, to the janitor for the multi-colored debris left behind.

And, is it horrible that I'm still thinking of Guitar Guy with fond regret?  I did consider, upon hire, that working as a cocktail waitress might get me a date or two (with excitement), but I wasn't expecting a full out emotional affair with a guy hot enough to cripple a lesser woman.  

I mean, honestly, even though I never got my physical finish line there, it will validate me for a very long time the way women ... very hot women, would come into the club and throw themselves at him, but he would sink onto me, always.  

He never responded to my email.  Like I said, I never expected him to.  Maybe the timing just wasn't right for that one.

Anyway, I'm bunked up in a hotel room with my mom and her girlfriend (yeah, mom's gay), preparing to leave tomorrow at 6:30pm-ish and hopefully will have a place to sleep upon arrival in London, as Jane is rabidly trying to deal with our combined dramas on that front.

Once again, I'm just a mess.  Today has been a trial, and it's really difficult to drop a bunch of things that are actually going pretty well, and move onto something frightening and uncertain.

However, I know it's the right decision; missed flights and flakey flatmates aside.

© Maeve Clancy 2008

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Sam Sparro gibt eine schöne schwule 90's Zugabe

There was a knocking at my bedroom door. I wanted to ignore it, but it got more insistent. I hauled myself to my feet.

It was Claire, my wife’s sister, who has lately invited herself to stay at my apartment, apparently indefinitely and for free. “You’re going to have to go down there and speak to them,” she told me.

“Me?”

She glared at me. “Yes.”

“What shall I say to them?” I asked. I just wanted to annoy her.

She did not blink. “Tell them to turn their music down. We can’t hear the television.”

I put on my slippers and traipsed downstairs. Perhaps I would have felt more certain of myself if I was not wearing my dressing gown. They did not have a doorbell, and so I had to knock. After knocking, I was suddenly anxious that they had not heard, and so I knocked again, probably too loudly.

The door was opened by one of the students. “Hey bro!” he cried happily. He wore a olive-green t-shirt and had one dreadlock, which hung over his eye. I wondered what sort of high I would get if I set fire to his shoes and then inhaled from his single dreadlock. We rapped fists and he said, “you’re Maxim, right?”

“Sure,” I replied. I thought that Maxim must be an eccentric individual if he turned up at parties in a dressing gown and slippers. We went inside. The music was still pounding. There was a room full of students passing a joint around. They made room for me on the sofa and I took the extended joint.

“Pete said you’d be here a bit earlier,” somebody remarked.

“Pete doesn’t know shit,” I said. The students laughed.

“So you were skiing up in the Pentlands today? At Hill End?”

“Not quite,” I said. “Do any of you go skiing?”

There were blank looks. I didn’t think that any of them would.

“Well the thing about skiing is the adrenaline. It’s like taking heroin, the high that you get from it. And so I thought why not instead just stay at home, sit in an armchair, and take heroin? And that’s what I did…”

There was silence.

“It seems sensible,” somebody said finally.

A student in a white t-shirt, who was presumably Pete, entered the room. “Maxim’s here,” his friend with the dreadlock told him brightly.

Pete looked at me. “This isn’t Maxim,” he said.

There were gasps and confusion. Some of the students tried to stand.

“There must be some mistake,” I countered. “Because this isn’t Pete.”

There were further gasps. The students who had tried to stand collapsed back on to the sofa.

“What’s going on?” Pete demanded.

“This is not Pete,” I told the room. “It looks nothing like him!”

“What?” Pete exclaimed.

“I think that you’d better be going,” I suggested to Pete, nodding at the door.

“But this is my flat. My Dad owns it!” Pete protested.

I stood up and started towards him. He bolted like a rabbit. I waited until I heard the door slam before I sat back down again.

“So who was he?” somebody asked.

“Some loser,” I replied.

The real Maxim never turned up. I took Pete’s bedroom and I have now been living in the flat for over three days.

Am Wochenende besuchte ich Mareile in Paris. Es war gut mal wieder ein paar Tage aus London raus zu kommen, um räumliche wie kulturelle Abwechslung zu genießen. Bevor ich mich auf den Weg machte, kaufte ich ihr noch 2 Krispy Kreme Donuts, das einzige was mir spontan einfiel, was es in Paris nicht zu naschen gibt. Tasche gepackt, mit dem Bus nach Kings Cross/St. Pancras International Station, rein in den Eurostar und los gings. Direkt viel mir ein sehr clichéehaftes Publikum im Zug auf: eine Gruppe von rucksackreisenden Amis, die wohl Europa "erkunden", nach dem Motto London-Paris-Berlin in 5 Tagen...der Franzose neben mir liest Marcel Proust, vor mir sitzen 6 Japanerinnen mit 6 unterschiedlichen Sandwiches. Jede muss natürlich bei der anderen mal am Sandwich probieren, was heißt jedes Sandwhich wird die ganze Fahrt über 6 mal herumgereicht, also 36 mögliche Sandwichkombinationen.

Als es nach dem Tunnel wieder hell wurde, mir waren kurz die Augen zugefallen, war ich mir kurz nicht sicher ob ich mich bereits auf dem europäischen Festland befinde oder noch auf der Insel. Spätestens als ich einen alten 2 CV neben dem Zug, parallel, auf der Landstraße sah, wusste ich bescheid. Nach 2 Stunden kam ich dann auch am Gare du Nord an, in Panam, und Mareile holte mich am Bahnhof ab. Sie lebt derzeit in der französischen Hauptstadt wegen eines Praktikums, noch bis Ende des Jahres. Ich verbrachte also ein entspanntes Wochenende in Mareiles netten kleinen Appartment, im 7. Arrondissement, nähe Eifelturm, wo sich um uns herum hauptsächlich die ganzen Behörden und Ministerien befanden. Die meiste Zeit verbrachten wir in kleinen gemütlichen Straßencafés, Bistros in der Sonne sitzend oder auf der Pont des artes, und bevor ich mich wieder auf den Rückweg machte, besorgte mir Reile noch ein schönes französisches Brot für die WG in London.

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All the way to Reile...Eurostar London-Paris

We had good picnic today.  We changed our 'venue' of picnic. Instead of picnic in the park, we just had picnic in our kitchen!  We cooked- everything turned great! didn't take picture of food though. We had fun..we ate, played monopoly (from 3 -10 tonight).  I won!  hahhaha ...loved my game today. Normally, I lost when I played monopoly.  Bought a lot of houses, hotel..made good deals with Min Jing. 

You must wondered why did we change our venue?

1.  The weather was unpredictable- cloudy, sunny, almost raining, cloudy all the time.

2.  We had to move all the food to the park. What a hassle, right? Packed and unpacked.  Even though the park just 10 minutes walking. heheheh...with all ladies' strengths..we thought we wanted something, then we needed to run to our flat. Not practical.

3.  The most good reason was - heheheh - I didn't want to expose myself with the weather. hahahha..Quite afraid if my body resisted to the weather and fell sick.  Luckily, other 2 girls agreed to stay. 

4.  We could play Monopoly or other game.

This picnic was great. I loved it because all of my flatmates were so friendly.  Hard to get this kind of flatmates.  The most important is they are clean and tidy.  Good yeah.. Alhamdullillah.  :) 

We baked the chicken, instead of BBQ.  We had tuna and egg sandwich.  The chocolate cake tasted so good- everyone loved it (even though it slipped from my hand this morning..hehhe).  I made fruit salad (strawberries, cherries, and orange) because Funke didn't eat chocolate (What a lost, isn't it?  I was craving for chocolate last 2 weeks..and always love chocolate- just need to control..hehehe). Petra, she made mushroom.  so nice. Tasted like meat. She baked the mushrooms.  I baked some tomatoes and boiled carrot.  We had some snacks too, drinks as usual.  Oh, splendid! 

Anyway, I had good time today.  Even though it was tiring prepared everything with others- I enjoyed myself.  At least, my weekend is great so far.

The best thing about today, we all closed to each other, getting know each other.. Have I told you that I live with a couple of les. They are married! I felt so excited and talked to the partner of my flatmate. Finally knew her name.  heheheh...Oh, I like my flatmates.

Hope they will 'behave well' till my last day here.  hehehe ..if not, they will not be good anymore. hehehe...

(Yawn-Ya Allah)- All right everybody..I need to rest now. Lie down, at least. heheheh..have a good sleep. Sleep like a baby.  Hope I wake around 12 pm which is impossible.  This summer, I wake around 5 because the sunrise is around 4.  hehehe..pity my body and brain need to adjust with seasons all the time. 

I'd like to thank Yvonne, Min Jing, Petra, Funke, Gemma, Rav, and Annie for giving me a great indoor picnic!  We can play monopoly again next time.  ;)

Take care and write again tomorrow, InsyaAllah. :)

Love always from London~ Emma xx.

Dopo tre mesi di convivenza con le Thai girls, finalmente si è creato un pochino quello spirito da coinquilini, che alleggerisce di parecchio le giornate quando torno a casa da lavoro. Oggi, per esempio, ho cenato Thai...buono eh, ma credo di aver sudato un sacco. Proprio come dicono loro "It vely cheful, vely vely hot"...michia se era hot, piglio quasi foco (Pieraccioni, ma erano spagnole ed era un altro contesto...). Sono davvero molto gentili, spesso mi aiutano con le pulizie (diciamo la verità, non ho MAI pulito, ho solo passato l'aspirapolvere 2 volte in salone)...torno a casa da lavoro e trovo tutto pulitissimo, sempre...poi, ora che si sono aperte un pochino, stanno imparando qualcosina in italiano (una di loro sta uscendo con un italiano, quindi mi chiede spesso di scrivere mail al posto suo). Però la cosa più divertente è insegnar loro qualche parola in napoletano, che pronunciata da loro fa spaccare dal ridere...poiché non si può capire, ho dovuto filmarle!
Guardare per credere! Una cosa divertente è come decidiamo chi va prima in bagno la mattina...giochiamo alla morra cinese, che a questo punto però è tailandese! "You vely vely lucky!", vinco spesso, e mi alzo dopo di loro, guadagno sempre quella mezz'ora di sonno che le fa "andare in freva" ("rosicare" in napoletano). Sarà la prossima cosa che insegnerò loro, anche se verrà fuori "Fleva"...!

Luis.

Unsere Freunde, mit denen wir uns trafen, schafften es auch nicht wesentlich früher zum besagten Ort und so schauten wir dann wenigsten das Spiel alle zusammen. Dämlich wie ich bin, hab ich gleich an der Bar dem ersten Engländer, der neben mir saß, mein halbes Bier aus dem Becher über den Rücken gekippt und es dann freundlicherweise mit meinem Deutschlandschweißband wieder von seinem Hocker gewischt...typisch Jacques...zum Glück hatte der seine Perle dabei und sah ziemlich verliebt aus, sonst hätte es bestimmt aufs Maul gegben...

Unter den Deutschlandfans war diesmal aber auch eine Schwedin namens Charlotte. Hierbei handelt es sich um unsere oben erwähnte neue Mitbewohnerin, die wir nach einem Monat anstrengendem Casting, beim zweiten Anlauf endlich gefunden haben. Sie wohnte bis dato eigentlich nur um die Ecke mit ihrem Freund zusammen aber irgendwie will sie da ausziehen, warum auch immer. Sie ist 24, arbeitet in der Modebranche, lebt seit 5 Jahren in London und ist super nett. War mit uns schon das ein oder andere Bierchen trinken, und eben auch beim Halbfinale. Jetzt gönnt sie sich gerade eine Woche Erholung zu Hause mit der Familie, den Schock, gegen Russland ausgeschieden zu sein, verdauen etc. Seitdem ist sie nun auch offizieller Deutschlandfan und wir hier im Flat 2 Deutsche und eine Schwedin, gutes Team soweit. Wir sind bereit fürs Finale und drücken Jogi und den Jungs fest die Daumen!

Charlotte aus Schweden

“Your head is bleeding. It looks like somebody has hit you with a glass bottle.”

I collected myself. “Tori?”

“You may have to go to hospital, Zbigniew…”

“I’ll be fine. They get hysterical at the hospital. It’s best not to excite them.”

“Where were you going?”

“Not to work. I don’t have my black shoes on. Maybe to the supermarket?”

“I’d offer to take you home, but I don't know that I'm welcome there…”

“Uh?”

“I came back to the flat the other night and found a fat bloke with a ponytail in my bed…”

“Ah, that would be Claire. She is Polly’s sister” At the time, I had assumed that my wife’s insulin overdose was not particularly significant, but looking back on it, the balance of various powers had been subtly transformed. I had barely spoken to my wife since her suicide attempt. Her sister had moved in, without my permission. She had made no arrangements for paying rent or contributing to the bills. I had hoped that she would stay temporarily, but she had arrived with over a dozen suitcases. She was grumpy and inarticulate, like Polly, but the fact that there was two of them changed things. I stayed in my bedroom more. I sometimes skipped meals rather than prepare them in the kitchen where the girls were dying their hair in the sink, or playing with the food blender. Polly now watched television in the living room rather than in her bedroom, and I could not get to the drinks cabinet without encountering her.

“To the pub?” I proposed hopefully.

Tori shook her head.

www.flatmatesthecomic.com

©Maeve Clancy 2008

This is the last blog that I'm required to write for my digital media class. I have to say that I've really enjoyed writing about this topic. Reliving my memories and sharing my stories has been a lot of fun. I'm not sure how healthy it's been though. See I'm one of those people completely guilty of living in the past. What I'm doing today is never as good as what I did yesterday. It's a chronic disorder I've got going on. My fiance always reminds me that I reminisce instead of living my life for what it is at the moment. He's right. Sometimes I need to remember to take my head out of the mental photo albums of "the good ole days" and start realizing that I'm LIVING the times that will be my memories tomorrow. This blog is going to take a little bit of a different pace than the others. I decided to be a little more introspective than usual and answer a few questions I've been getting. So here it goes.

Why was I in Prague?

That story starts in a really sad way, actually. The guy I was dating at the time (and who I'm currently engaged to) and I broke up for about a month. My life took a major league dip and it was all I could do not to turn everything on its head. I was depressed, to say the least. I decided that I needed a year away. I had a friend doing some mission work in Prague at a school teaching ESL (English as a Second Language) and that sounded perfect for me. I'm an English major and though I'm fully aware that literature and English as a language are two completely different subjects, I figured I knew enough to be ok. Plus the people at the school encouraged me that they took any body and would train us all there. I signed up and even after I got back together with my boyfriend I was still pumped to go... so I went.

What exactly did you DO there?

Basically it was indentured servitude or paid slavery or whatever you want to call it. It was terrible. The classroom was phenomenal. I've never been more comfortable in my own skin than when I stood in front of my students and imparted knowledge to them. It was everything else that drove me crazy. I was there as a student missionary so I was in charge (along with 10 others who were there with me) of teaching all my classes, organizing church and sabbath school, Bible studies, cooking for potluck, grading, editing textbooks, etc etc etc. I really could go on forever. Prague was a beautiful backdrop, but I was honestly inside for 70% of my stay there. It was NOT a vacation. haha. I encourage going out for a mission year whole-heartedly, but if you're looking for a paid vacation you might try one of the islands. I hear that's a bit more lax. :)

Who are these roommates/flatmates you're always talking about?

Ok that's fair. I mention these people a lot in my posts and I suppose you're all probably curious as to who they are. They were other students just like me who came from all over the U.S. to do just what I was doing. There were six of us from Southwestern Adventist University (Austin, Ky, Eliseo, Aleksis, one of the Andys, and me), two from Walla Walla (Chelsea & Montana), one from Texas Tech University (Kristin), one from Southern (Missy) and one from Union (another Andy). Originally there were twelve of us, but two left and one new one came, so in the end we were the "faithful eleven", as our boss called us.

What was your ACTUAL favorite part of Prague?

Considering you won't all have the experience I had, I can't say the people, though they were my absolute favorite things about being in Prague. You won't get to live with the people I lived with and you won't get to laugh with the people I laughed with, so you won't get to experience my truly FAVORITE thing about last year. However, have no fear. Prague still has plenty of amazing things to offer. My favorite thing was simply the atmosphere. Taking walks in that city provides a euphoria all its own. And it never gets old. I could've walked for hours every day and seen the same things over and over and still have felt completely wonderful every time. If, no WHEN, you go to Prague be sure to take walks. Just wander. It's great. Seeing the castle in the distance, crossing the bridge, dodging horse-drawn carriages in Old Town Square, it's all great.

Writing this blog may have taken me on an unhealthfully lengthy trip down memory lane, but I'm so grateful that it's reminded me how lucky I am to have had the opportunity that I did to experience all this. I'll say it one last time: take the opportunity to live inor even just visit, Europe at some point. You'll never ever regret it.

Nach einigen erfolglosen Castingversuchen von potenziellen zukünftigen Mitbewohnerinnen war ich überglücklich, dass mein alter Kumpel Robert aus Limbach (s. Foto, links) mir mitteilte, er würde gerne hier einziehen. Er studierte und lebte bisher außerhalb Londons in Uxbridge, ganz weit draußen im Westen, Richtung Heathrow liegt das. Wir sahen uns also nur wenn Rob mal zum Feiern ein Wochenende in die Stadt kam und bei uns auf dem Sofa übernachtet hat. Er kennt unsere Bude daher schon recht gut. Also habe ich mich kurzer Hand für einen Freund, den ich seit 10 Jahren kenne, entschieden, anstatt wieder jemand hier einziehen zu lassen, der vollkommen fremd ist. Was in einer Metropole wie London sehr viel wert ist: jemanden zu haben, dem man vertraut und mit dem man gut klar kommt.

So weit, so gut. Aber, unser alter MItbewohner aus Bayern, Daniel, ist letztes Wochenende nun überraschend ausgezogen! Er hatte die Möglichkeit mit 3 Frauen in ein Haus zu ziehen, gar nicht weit weg von unserem Flat. In erster Linie, weil es moderner ist, Pay-TV und Spülmaschine, bessere Dusche etc hat. Kein Vergleich zu unserer bescheidenen Bude, die natürlich aber auch viel günstiger ist. Eventuell könnte seine Entscheidung auch damit zusammen hängen, dass ihm der Testosterongehalt mit Robert und mir langfristig zu hoch geworden wäre :D Anyway, it's your thing! Das heißt: wir müssen also weiterhin eine neue Mitbewohnerin suchen. Naim, unser Vermieter war zwar nicht gerade ganz amused über Daniels sehr kurzfristige Entscheidung und sagte ihm, er müsse für Nachmieter sorgen, aber ich denke Rob und ich werden da schon wen passendes finden. Man wird sehen. Ich bin also gerade sehr froh über meine neue coole Männer-WG. Alles top hier!

Robert mit Michael B. aus G. Getroffen beim Praktikum für adidas in Herzogenaurach