Day 81: ONE FINAL THING I'M THANKFUL FOR...

(That I wasn't eaten by this big ass fish)

This is Nobby.




Nobby is a giant gourami that inhabits my landlord's office. Normally, this is where I'd link to a wikipedia entry about giant gouramis. But that's not neccessary. All the wikipedia page would say is that "giant gouramis are pure evil that represent all that's wrong with the world. They, on occassionally, will eat your soul.*"

Today we paid our rent for the last time. This means the threat of being fed to Nobby as a result of missing a deadline is no longer a fear that haunts us every night in our sleep*. As I mentioned in a previous entry, our landlord looked oddly like Snatch villain Brick Top, who fed his enemies to pigs. While our landlord a much kinder fellow, we always feared in the back of our minds that if we effed up, our flat would be fish food. We were told Nobby killed his wife (although according to the wikipedia giant gouramis with big lips are female...like Nobby?!) and also another fish placed in his tank. So the next logical step would be humans. Once he's had his first taste of human blood...may God have mercy on our souls.

Alas, we've all survived (as long as we remember to turn in our keys...). And over the months I've grown quite fond of the fish. So I put together a brief video and photo story about my time with Nobby. Make sure you hit play on the music player before viewing the video and photos. If song one makes the experience all-too-terrifying, then switch to song two for a happier tale about life with me and my pal Nobby.








Bum bummm...


Bum bummmm...


Bum bummmmm bum bum bum bum...


Bam your dead, fool!

Then again, if Nobby ever did become too big of a threat. The people of Thailand* did provide us with this option. :( Just kidding.

--
Foot notes

*Actually, that's almost what the wiki entry says. Here's an excerpt: "If other fish are added to a tank, either large or small, they might be killed within a short period."

*Fact: Nightmare on Elm Street would be a scarier movie, if in fact, Freddy Kruger was a giant gourami*.

*Fact: Taylor, after passing out on a couch one evening, woke up an hour later in a cold sweat. He had just endured a dream where a gnarled Nobby IN HUMAN FORM partied all night long at the same house party Taylor was at!*

*This story is 100 percent valid. Taylor didn't sleep again for two or three days. And he couldn't party for at least eight hours.

*Thailand has a whole bunch of big ass fish. Click here, and scroll down to the section entititled "Fishing in Thailand" and prepare to scare yourself ****less. Never ever, ever go swimming in Thailand. Not even in a swimming pool. These are freshwater fish. Evil freshwater fish. If Satan has a fish tank, these are the fish that live inside it.

Day 80: THANKSGIVING AT THE PHOTO HOUSE

(A traditional turkey chicken dinner- with a side of photos)


What's a Thanksgiving dinner without crossaints, chicken and photography?

Celebrating Thanksgiving can prove to be difficult in Europe. The tradition of honoring the pilgrims for slaughtering feasting with Native Americans is not too important to British culture BELIEVE IT OR NOT!

But that's fine by me since everybody knows Thanksgiving is my least favorite holiday. I hate 90 percent of the food, I have to watch the ***** Lions play football and plus I don't need a holiday telling me when I should be thankful. Instead, I believe we should just be thankful everyday. (That's my justification for disliking this silly holiday. It's not a very good justification. shhhh...) The good news is in London it's actually easy for me to follow my "always be gracious" mantra.

This would normally be the point where I list all I'm grateful for here in London. Eh, but it's too cliche. OK, I'm actually not doing that because I'm too stuffed from eating pies. My favorite Thanksgiving treat. Still, it's true from the new sights every day to the accents to the history to the theatre to the doner kebab, it's impossible to not to feel so lucky and privileged to be spending four months here. Now if we could only find some damn pumpkin pie?

For Thanksgiving dinner at the house, it's been almost impossible to find any of the traditional Thanksgiving food. That's good news for me. Our resident chef Will Halsey led the charge in cooking the meal. No turkey. Instead tastes like chicken! Apple pie replaces pumpkin pie (all pie* is delicious, so this is acceptable). No stuffing, but there is sweet corn. No, um, turkey. But there are choreos. Mmmm. Now this I can appreciate. And we still managed to keep the Thanksgiving tradition of nearly burning down the house.*

Living in the photo house has been an interesting experience. Nine people. One house. One non-photo major (me). The goal I wanted to accomplish this semester was to see the world from completely unique perspective. From another culture's point of view. And hell, that was even possible in my own house. The age-old battle between photographers and writers (me) still rages on, but learning to see the world through a lens is something I struggled with in past classes. To not only spot a brilliant image, but to have the guts to get right in there and snap that shot and to frame it just right - you must see the world with both an artistic and frantic eye.

And while, I might never take one photo as good as any of them. I believe I'm learned from seeing my flatmates shoot thousands of pictures of the semester. I ask questions, and little by little I'm feeling more like I'm seeing the world better through the camera's eye. So thanks for that. I'm impressed by what y'all do.

Furthermore, while I have trouble taking photos of cool images. I have managed to find success taking photos of photographers taking photos of cool images. Taken from throughout this current semester, here are shots of photogs making memories: (Except Sarah, who managed to be elusive enough to escape everyone one of these photos.)

The cast of "St. Mary's Mansion Photo House"


The obligatory "British soldier" shot


Haircut in da house!


Brad surveys a good location for him to rule London from.


Dat's good beer.


That face says it all: "I've taken zero good photos at Hampstead Heath."


Tower of London


Bahhh.

I think I was in the way on this one.


Work that chicken, Will.


Halloween.
--
Foot notes

*What's better pie or cake? Overall, I feel there's a greater quanity of delicious pies (pecan, pumpkin, pudding, apple). But nothing is more savory than a rich, moist slice of chocolate cake. Let the age-old debate rages on.


*

This photo may look out of focus, but it's actually all the smoke in the room. And this photo is out of focus.

Day 76: HAVE A LOOK, HAVE A LOOK

(Exploring the markets of London)

"Wakey, wakey. Have a look. Have a look. All this for only 10 pounds," the vendors would shout at the crowds shuffling through the marketplace. Don't make eye contact. Or you're coming home with a pair of wool socks or a miniature double decker bus.


Cheap, gross clothes available at the London markets.

London is well-known for its open-air markets, and I finally decided to explore the bigger ones last weekend. On Saturday I hit up Portabello Road, a massive street with all types of goods. Most of them useless. And also fudge.

The best parts of these markets is most definitely the cheap, exotic and always-delicious food. Sure, the festive atmosphere that came out in Petticoat Lane Market after the rain stopped was exciting. Someone even called another guy, "Mr. Bollocks Chops."*

But the food at the Sunday UpMarket was almost too delicious. There were eats from Portugal, Japan, Brazil, China - pretty much every Asian or Portuguese country. I bought a Dragon Tail for a pound 50, while checking out all the hipster designer t-shirts. Finally, from there I headed to Brick Lane. It was closing up when I got there, but I still had time to grab a cream cheese beigel from the best beigel place in the entire world. And picked up a pair of five pound shoes called Plimsolls. Suck on that Starbury.

Photo montage. With no discretion at all. I just threw in everything, which includes like two good photos. Hooray.

Portobello Road:

Big-ass seafood paella.


Fudge. Delicious, delicious fudge.

Petticoat Lane Market:

I came to Europe for the Houston Cougar sweatshirts. Bugger off, McNabb.

UpMarket:

Asian food inside the Sunday UpMarket. mmmmmm.


Here's the Red Dragon's Tail I ate (prawn, rice, seaweed, spiciness).


Inside the UpMarket tent carom tables were set up. A game that involves caroming.


Chowing at the UpMarket. Look they even have Hippie Bites!

Brick Lane:

Executions and oriental cuisine?!!? This market truly is the greatest.


Om nom nom.


More graffiti around Brick Lane.


The second most famous beigel place on Brick Lane (and my favorite).


Creepy dolls are available for cheap at Brick Lane.

--
Foot notes

*Someone screamed this name out, and everyone within earshot stopped. A guy not named Mr. Bollocks Chops turned around and asked "Are you talking to me?"

"No, him."

"Oh ok. Sorry"

okkkkkkkkkkayyyy.

Day 39-40: looking back at CATALUNYA

(That's Catalan for Catalonia)

Now it was starting to rain. But we were almost at the top. A little water wasn't going to hurt us. Well, it did make the rocks a bit more slippery. But we were almost at the top.

When Stefanie and I reached the summit, it was beautiful. This is why I hate sightseeing. This was experiencing. That's the best way to "view" a foreign land. We had started climbing some ancient walls that surrounded the ancient city of Girona, and then we found some trails off-the-beaten-path that took us even higher above the city. When we reached the top, the tiny city just north of Barcelona appeared glorious under the Spanish night. Unfortunately, my photos of it sucked.

Nevertheless a summary of two days in Catalonia.


Tranquil ol' Girona.


Barcelona's Arc de Triomf. The one that nobody cares about.

INFORMACION, POR FAVOR:
A summary of my two days in Catalonia.

Excelente!
Here are the highlights from Catalonia. Isn't that right voice of Spanish Mr. Burns?
-Dancing at a discotheque packed with Spanish people and American music. Too much rhythm? Perhaps but at least they weren't doing this.
-Climbing ancient walls.
-Eating traditional Spanish food (see below).
-The Dali Museum (coming in a future post).
-Spanish architecture.
-Las Ramblas during the day.
-The most immaculate subways you'll ever see are in Barcelona. It also runs all night during the weekends.
-Street performers. Everyone loves a good street performer (see below)
-The Ryanair theme song.

Ay caramba!
And of course, there were some rather disappointing parts of Catalonia. Isn't that right English-speaking Bart Simpson who uses Spanish exclamations.
-Las Ramblas at night. This was one of the biggest disappointments of the entire break. You'd think that the biggest street in Barcelona would have a wild Catalan nightlife. Instead there were just, uh, weird shops and people. Apparently we were searching in all the wrong places (you're supposed to go closer to the beach we found out afterward?) We did eventually find some discotheque, but it felt too tourist-y to me. And then I whined and feel asleep. Ay papi!
-Drinks at discotheques. Seven or eight euros for just about anything. But there are no cover chargers.
-Siestas. The whole city becomes a ghost town for two hours in the mid-afternoon.

Muy delicioso:
There's no easier way to "experience" another culture then to eat their food and spill their wine. Or as I did in a plaza in Barcelona, squirt lemon juice on the Irish guy sitting next to you. Here's what I chowed on in Catalonia.

-Paella*
-Tapas. If you order tapas get the very delicious patatas bravas (fierce potatoes). They're almost too delicious. Mom, please make me some when I return to America.
-Fried apple doughnuts covered in Catalan Creme.
-Granatxa wine. It's the most widely planted red wine grape in the world. But we drank it in Catalonia, where it originated. Oh the sweet taste of authenticity.
-Gofres con chocolate (Chocolate covered waffles). Waffles are a big time dessert in Spain. If there's one idea America should take from Espana, it's waffles for dessert. Mmmm. Isn't that right Homer Simpson?

Girona (an hour north of Barcelona)

Girona was an amazing way to kick off my fall break.* I scaled an ancient city (even though part of those fancy walls were actually part of a university), fiesta'd at an excellent Spanish nightclub (that of course blasted English music) and ate delicious tapas. Stef and I spent two days in Catalona, one in Girona and one in Barcelona, before meeting up with another roommate* in Madrid and Girona certainly surprised us with awesomeness.


A photo from either the Jewish quarter of Girona or the Arab corner. Can't remember.


The morning we left Girona, we watched natives make a sacrifice to The Burger King.


The second most popular movie currently playing in Barcelona. Behind Diario de una Ninfomana.

Before we move onto Barcelona photos it's time for:

MATT LEVIN EMBARRASSES HIMSELF TRYING TO SPEAK ANOTHER LANGUAGE (Part 1)
Today's language: Catalan. I tried to whip out my Spanish while ordering a chocolate filled croissant at 3 am one morning. But I failed right off the bat. She kept trying to explain some mistake I made, and I wasn't getting it. It took about a minute before I realized I had paid for the croissant with two pounds.

I did find out in Madrid that even the Spanish can't make sense of Catalan. Comforting, right?

Barcelona

Barcelona also was quite amazing. Although the nightlife seemed lacking, the city center was crammed with people during the day. The famed Las Ramblas street was swarming with vendors, street performers and probably a million tourists. But enough babbling, you want a dozen photos of street performers!


Digeridoo!!!


This photo gallery should be called street performers because that's all you're seeing from here on out. Barcelona: El ciudad de actors del calle.


Goooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooool!


If you gave this performer some cash money, he'd ride a bike with a skeleton. Neat!


More street performers.


Even more street performers.


Enough street performers already!


Probably one of the better photos I've taken...of a street performer!


This was actually a pretty awesome Latin-style band. Look this guy can play his face so hard he has blisters on his fingers.


A sitar?


The middle guy was Argentinian, FYI.


The whole gang.


And this guy who loved getting his photo taken. Adios Espana.

--
Foot notes

*Man, I don't think I could ever travel with more than one person at a time again. I traveled with one roommate in Spain (Stef) and one in Portugal (Will). It just simplifies everything. Three really would feel like a crowd. A stressful, stressful crowd. And the best part for Stef and Will, thanks to my brilliant switcheroo midway through the trip, they each only had to deal with me for half of the weeklong break. De nada!

*And to think, we both accidentally fell asleep in our hostel at 8 p.m. the first night and almost didn't leave our rooms at all. But at 10:30 p.m., we forced ourselves to get up and just do anything. We had no plan. And it ended up being one of the best nights of the entire break (hmm, and this scenario repeats itself in Porto). There's a lesson here. Sacrifice sleep, sacrifice animals, sacrifice whatever, but don't ever decide to do nothing when visiting a new place. Even if you have no plan, no idea where to go and you're tired....go out and explore. That's the whole point of being in another culture: Explore, try to learn something new and maybe even learn about yourself. **** sleep!

*A note about chicken in Spain. It's never boneless. Even in our chicken paella, buried under the rice were chicken wings with bone. It's kinda gross, and I don't understand if it's a cultural thing or maybe only Americans de-bonify chicken. The good news is the Spanish make the most succulent chicken on Earth.

Day 36: THE RED LIGHT DISTRICT

(...in my room)



In case you were wondering what my living quarters in London looked like (you were? Wow, great!) here's a glimpse:

My room in the flat has been nicknamed the Red Light District. Try to guess why from these photos:


Psst...it's because of the red light.

My roommate Brad brought the Red Light to give our room more personality. It's worth noting here that Brad is a vampire.


However, Brad did build a really cool fort.


An ominous glow emanates from the Red Light District.

Exciting kitchen photos:



What the hell is that white glow? I don't know how to take photos.


You can't see it here, but just behind that washer is our dryer.*

My Empty Room*: A Photo Story

I moved out of my room the day I returned from Amsterdam. It was too much of a hell hole. Instead, I've spent the past week sleeping on our couch in the living room. It wasn't awkward or anything for the rest of the house.


Yes, mom/dad there's the Florida Gator pillow from our living room. It's been here all along, and no I'm not returning it.

Suddenly, after a week on the couch, I became enlightened (like that one dude on the couch in Half-Baked.) And with my new magical powers I cleaned my room with the snap of my fingers.*

Before:

Not gonna lie. The floor was like that for a week.

*POOF*

After:

Crap, forgot the iron.

Before:

Seriously, how did this room get so messy?

*BAM*

After:

And how did it get so damn clean?

Before:

Now, that's just embarrassing.

Abra

Kadabra

*Kazaam*

After:

Ta-da. A made bed complete with a book by Stephen Ambrose.

Award-winning photo story? Dur.

--
Foot notes

*Gotcha. If you've been reading my blog all along, you'd know the Brits don't use dryers. Anyway...how 'bout that spotless kitchen? Didn'tWillandSarah do a magnificent job cleaning it? Let's give them a hand

*My Empty Room was, of course, a reference to the 14th track off Queensrÿche's seminal album "Operation: Mindcrime." Who caught that homage? I know one person did. Anyway, it's my least favorite song on the album. Instead listen to the catchy "I Don't Believe in Love" or the epic closer "Eyes of a Stranger."

*The magical powers is my version of the story. My roommates might tell you a different version. But whatever they say is untrue. It was magic.