Thursday, February 17, 2011
Sunday, February 13, 2011
A'dam good time...
Our first experience traveling into continental Europe was, surprisingly, not a disaster. After a slight hiccup at the airport in London (don't trust EasyJet, that's all I can say) it was smooth sailing to the Netherlands. Most signs in the airport and train station were in English, which was good because my Dutch is a little rusty.
However, the only things not in English there are the street signs! It took about 15 minutes of us looking for Oudezijds Voorburgwal St. before we decided to follow the guidance of Manny, a South African International who seemed to know his way around the city. At first, I was a little cautious about leading 12 Americans (10 of them girls) down some strange alley with a random foreigner, but he assured me we were safe and I made sure we stuck to the main streets (or canals, rather.) Ten minutes and a nice conversation later, we arrived at the The Bulldog. Happy to have found our hostel and even happier to not have gotten robbed, I gladly tipped Manny (for the record, I never actually asked his name- Manny is just a guess) the 10 Euro he had surreptitiously told me would get him to the shelter for the night. Apparently, he had just been helping out tourist groups in order to make some money while awaiting his return home.
So now the hard part was over and we could finally relax- which, as you might imagine, isn't that hard in Amsterdam. Our hostel had its own bar and lounge on the first floor where guests could get a drink or enjoy anything they might have purchased at the Coffee Shop next door (also owned by The Bulldog!). The lounge seemed to be specially designed for "Coffee" lovers; two televisions (one for XBOX and one for Discovery Channel), plenty of comfy couches, pool tables, a bar, and a fish tank. It didn't hurt either that the kitchen was open until 11 p.m.
But after a while of enjoying that scene, we figured it was time for something a little more touristy. So we caught a tram uptown and checked out the Heineken Experience, a tour/museum of all things Heineken. The best way I can describe it is Willy Wonka for adults (if you consider 21 to be adult, that is). It was just room after room of beer appreciation, but done in a very modern and interactive way. For instance there were these camera stations you could stand in front of and record either a video or still photo, and then you could e-mail them directly to your friends who aren't in Amsterdam ( the result being them hating their lives.) And since Heineken is the Champions League sponsor, one room contained a re-play kiosk that was loaded with every impressive goal, and was search able by either team or player. But the best part by far were the free beers at the end. After walking around a beer factory with cottonmouth for almost 2 hours, you can imagine how satisfying the freezing golden liquid really was.
The remaining details I have either forgotten or omitted for various reasons (The first being I literally forgot it happened). The second though, is that no body can be told what Amsterdam is, you have to experience it for yourself. It's like seeing a picture of the Sistine Chapel: it doesn't really do it justice. So to all my friends, Go! Go now! This second-hand smoke will never compare.
However, the only things not in English there are the street signs! It took about 15 minutes of us looking for Oudezijds Voorburgwal St. before we decided to follow the guidance of Manny, a South African International who seemed to know his way around the city. At first, I was a little cautious about leading 12 Americans (10 of them girls) down some strange alley with a random foreigner, but he assured me we were safe and I made sure we stuck to the main streets (or canals, rather.) Ten minutes and a nice conversation later, we arrived at the The Bulldog. Happy to have found our hostel and even happier to not have gotten robbed, I gladly tipped Manny (for the record, I never actually asked his name- Manny is just a guess) the 10 Euro he had surreptitiously told me would get him to the shelter for the night. Apparently, he had just been helping out tourist groups in order to make some money while awaiting his return home.
So now the hard part was over and we could finally relax- which, as you might imagine, isn't that hard in Amsterdam. Our hostel had its own bar and lounge on the first floor where guests could get a drink or enjoy anything they might have purchased at the Coffee Shop next door (also owned by The Bulldog!). The lounge seemed to be specially designed for "Coffee" lovers; two televisions (one for XBOX and one for Discovery Channel), plenty of comfy couches, pool tables, a bar, and a fish tank. It didn't hurt either that the kitchen was open until 11 p.m.
But after a while of enjoying that scene, we figured it was time for something a little more touristy. So we caught a tram uptown and checked out the Heineken Experience, a tour/museum of all things Heineken. The best way I can describe it is Willy Wonka for adults (if you consider 21 to be adult, that is). It was just room after room of beer appreciation, but done in a very modern and interactive way. For instance there were these camera stations you could stand in front of and record either a video or still photo, and then you could e-mail them directly to your friends who aren't in Amsterdam ( the result being them hating their lives.) And since Heineken is the Champions League sponsor, one room contained a re-play kiosk that was loaded with every impressive goal, and was search able by either team or player. But the best part by far were the free beers at the end. After walking around a beer factory with cottonmouth for almost 2 hours, you can imagine how satisfying the freezing golden liquid really was.
The remaining details I have either forgotten or omitted for various reasons (The first being I literally forgot it happened). The second though, is that no body can be told what Amsterdam is, you have to experience it for yourself. It's like seeing a picture of the Sistine Chapel: it doesn't really do it justice. So to all my friends, Go! Go now! This second-hand smoke will never compare.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Oxford,
I've always been proud of Ball State University. I know it's not the greatest school in the world. But for our size and our location we hold our own. My honest feelings have always been that I wouldn't rather be at any other school... but then I went to Oxford.
We're talking about a school so historic that it is 4 times older than our country. So prolific that its alumni include 40 Prime Ministers, around 50 Olympic Gold Medal winners, oh and 12 Saints! Not to mention the various authors like J.R.R. Tolkien, C.S. Lewis, Oscar Wilde, Aldous Huxley, and Lewis Carroll. Either this place has perfected the art of molding minds or the art of attracting them.
As a lifelong reader of some of those names it was a rather spiritual experience for me to visit their Alma Mater. Not to mention that several locations on the campus were used as sets in the Harry Potter films. I was literally walking in the foot steps of Tolkien, Lewis, and Potter: the 3 most important names in fantasy literature.
Being there it's easy to see how these guys could be inspired in such a fantastic way. They merely had to emulate their epic surroundings. Tolkien sees the Norman Castle Mound and comes up with a Hobbit hole. Carroll uses the secret door in the Great Hall and sees a rabbit hole. Whether they meant to or not, these guys couldn't help but incorporate their real-life experiences at this epic school into their fictional stories.
But at the same time as I was so elated at visiting a place with such significance to me, I couldn't but think how Ball State paled in comparison. This got me seriously depressed about my future prospects. I mean, I have no Libraries designed by Sir Christopher Wren to study in. No cafeterias that were the inspiration for Hogwarts. And I can't see Tolkien writing Lord of the Rings at effing Dill St.!
Yet somehow I saw a glimmer of hope. Maybe these people made their environment, not the other way around. Maybe they were going to do what they did all along, and Oxford was actually lucky to have them. And that was when I vowed to do the same for Ball State: to make my school proud, to give it a legacy... to make it my Oxford.
We're talking about a school so historic that it is 4 times older than our country. So prolific that its alumni include 40 Prime Ministers, around 50 Olympic Gold Medal winners, oh and 12 Saints! Not to mention the various authors like J.R.R. Tolkien, C.S. Lewis, Oscar Wilde, Aldous Huxley, and Lewis Carroll. Either this place has perfected the art of molding minds or the art of attracting them.
As a lifelong reader of some of those names it was a rather spiritual experience for me to visit their Alma Mater. Not to mention that several locations on the campus were used as sets in the Harry Potter films. I was literally walking in the foot steps of Tolkien, Lewis, and Potter: the 3 most important names in fantasy literature.
Being there it's easy to see how these guys could be inspired in such a fantastic way. They merely had to emulate their epic surroundings. Tolkien sees the Norman Castle Mound and comes up with a Hobbit hole. Carroll uses the secret door in the Great Hall and sees a rabbit hole. Whether they meant to or not, these guys couldn't help but incorporate their real-life experiences at this epic school into their fictional stories.
But at the same time as I was so elated at visiting a place with such significance to me, I couldn't but think how Ball State paled in comparison. This got me seriously depressed about my future prospects. I mean, I have no Libraries designed by Sir Christopher Wren to study in. No cafeterias that were the inspiration for Hogwarts. And I can't see Tolkien writing Lord of the Rings at effing Dill St.!
Yet somehow I saw a glimmer of hope. Maybe these people made their environment, not the other way around. Maybe they were going to do what they did all along, and Oxford was actually lucky to have them. And that was when I vowed to do the same for Ball State: to make my school proud, to give it a legacy... to make it my Oxford.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)