This year, I'm thankful for.... two Thanksgiving dinners.

True story. I've gone so many years in different countries never celebrating Thanksgiving, and this year in England, I get it twice. No complaints, especially since my little Bellinghamster friend Miss Holly Davis Ilchmann came all the way from Dresden, Germany to cook with me. (And stay the week, for which I give her huge props, considering I was working on a final essay the majority of the days and nights..)

We also had a fun day in Manchester with Holly's hubby Lars, who was an excellent tour guide considering he doesn't like England much.

Hopefully the plethora of pictures makes up for the sorry blogging job lately...

Definitely the most old sewing machines I've ever seen in one place.

An large old library on Lars' list of "10 Things You Must See in Manchester".

Lars scoping out the Christmas markets, which I'm pretty sure pale in comparison to Deutschland's.

The thing about all these great big old buildings is that you can never fit them into one photo...

(Manchester Town Hall)

Yes, Manchester has a China Town.

It has 3 Chinese restaurants, none of which we felt

particularly comfortable eating at..

The Ilchmanns, getting carried away with the interactive maps at the tourist centre..

Modern meets historical. Lars was ready to move here. 

                                                           At the pub where we ate lunch.
                         I've since decided I want this to be what people say about me when I'm gone.

  Holly, imitating how Lars feels about drinking cider. 

                                        

The pub we ate in was right next to some ancient Roman ruins,

so we really shouldn't have been that surprised to look out the window

and see a Roman guard taking kids on a field trip..

Holly and I outside Manchester Cathedral.

A plaque on the wall inside the cathedral.

Seriously??? 

Holly finally found some gloves big enough for her enormously oversized hands.

(They were hats.)

Homemaker Holly, doing what she does best!

This was AFTER we took the big pile of empty tin cans out of the picture..

My attempt at Sweet Potato Surprise.

If you think it looks slightly pink, it's because it is.

Turns out English people don't like to be exclusive with their

marshmallow colours, so you have to buy pink ones right along with the white..

 The finished product: garlic mashed potatoes, green bean casserole,

sweet potato surprise, veggie stuffing, and a pumpkin pie!

My flatmate Mike joined us, and said afterwards his mouth was very confused about having sweet potatoes with marshmallows (they're always savoury here) and pumpkin turned into a pie.
But he managed to choke it down. And we managed to stretch the leftovers out for 3 whole dinners!

Back to ceaseless essay writing. Quite possibly the biggest motivational factor I've ever had: a particular boy from across the pond landing in Manchester in a mere 12 days...............................

Tofurkey Day.

So, as we all know, next week is Thanksgiving. A couple Americans here started talking about doing a big dinner together this weekend, which turned into renting out a renovated barn for the event, a plethora of potluck dishes, and over 100 people showing up. I'm pretty sure Americans were far outnumbered by Europeans, who came along for the 'cultural experience', which seemed a little funny/ironic. Most didn't know much about the reason for the holiday, and it was interesting to try and explain. 

                My English friend Liz identifying the uniquely American dishes, namely, green bean casserole.

          One table was 'omniverous', another was veggie, and the last, vegan, all with very impressive spreads.

Heart warming.

It was the first Thanksgiving I've ever had parsnips involved in my dinner.. that was interesting. 

I meant to take a picture of the dessert table, which I found amusing as it included at least 9 pumpkin pies.... and a plate of donuts. 

It was a wonderful much-needed break from a very long week of work. Projects happening simultaneously now involve 2 final essays, 2 research project proposals, 1 book review, a bajillion articles to read, and deciding on our placements for next summer. This will determine where we go, what sort of project we're working on for 2 months, which classmates we're going with, and ultimately, what we're writing our entire dissertation on.. kind of a big decision. That we have to make in the next few days, even though it's still 7 months away. 

Something that's not 7 months away is Christmas, which I am getting so excited for, because it means HOME for 11 glorious days. Did I mention meeting a girl in my small group here who just got back from a YWAM trip and spent the last 2 months living in Bellingham??? Turns out we know a bunch of the same people and both love Mallard's ice cream. Such a small world.

Happy Sunday, love to you all.

Weekend Du Fun.

On Thursday, Ina arrived. Friday, our friend Stuart came up from Crewe. Saturday was Guy Fawkes Day, or "Bonfire Night", as it's more well known. As Ina and I learned at the refugee club last week, Guy Fawkes was some guy who tried to blow up parliment 400 years ago, but he didn't, so Brits have Bonfire Night to celebrate it. The only tie-in seems to be that the bonfires sometimes involve burning a Guy Fawkes effigy, which (personally) seems a bit morbid. It's also a little weird that this day is such a big deal here, since the English seem to feel quite similarly about their government as Americans feel about ours right now, so celebrating that a guy got nixed trying to abolish the government seems a little backwards. But whatever! As long as we can have a good bonfire! And set off so many fireworks, it feels like we're living in a war zone for 5 days straight!

German beer and Swedish cider at Bungalows & Bears Pub.

Ina can't believe we actually get to ride a DOUBLE DECKER BUS to the city.

Stu is more concerned with the Finnish chocolate Ina brought him.

Outside the Cathedral, where Occupy Sheffield is taking place.

Bonfire Night! At friends Liz and Rosie's, around the corner from me.

Lighting Chinese Lanterns.

Spinning fireworks.

Ina cooking up our last supper.

We ate dessert first, for obvious reasons.

(That's a Carmelized Almond Banana Split.)

Such a good weekend. Now back to the daunting reality of research proposals, dissertation outlines, placement decisions, policy briefings, and research paper analysis. Blaaaah.

Love to you all!

Sunrises, Doorways, and Street Art.

These are the things you find wildly entertaining when you're stuck in a library reading about neoliberalism and Millenium Development Goals 12 hours a day. Below is the morning view out my window. Makes getting up way too early much more bearable.










This week I was walking through the livingroom and noticed something didn't seem quite right with the broom closet door. Upon further examination, I realized it's because the top of the door's moulding is about 4 inches away from the other doorway's moulding.. but at the bottom, there's no space between them at all.
Photographic evidence:












This picture was taken at a straight angle, too. Or at least as straight an angle as possible when you're standing in a VERY CROOKED HOUSE. Sometimes I feel like I live here. And it does not surprise me at all that this place is in England.










Art I passed by en route to the Refugee and Asylum Seeker's weekly English meeting in the city, which has been one of my favourite activities the past month. Women of all ages from all over the middle east and Africa, talking and singing and hugging and kissing and eating from big pots of spicy food they've cooked up. Way more interesting than the library.

In other news, my dear Ina comes for a visit next week! It will be the first time we've seen each other since saying sad, dusty goodbyes in Nairobi's Jomo Kenyatta airport 18 months ago. Also good motivation to get heaps and heaps of work done during next week's "reading week" (shocking, but no one else seems to actually be planning on doing a lot of reading) so we can party hearty all weekend, as the kids say.

Missing everyone.

Sights & Sighs.

School is upon me. Lots and lots and lots of school. It's daunting and exhilarating at the same time. Some photos from the week:








This is mainly for Auntie Sue, who shares my love for TJ Maxx in the states.
No idea why it's TK Maxx here.









I take a shortcut through a park on my way home from school, where there's usually some sort of rugby or footy game going on. Imagine my surprise this week to find AMERICAN FOOTBALL being played. Where am I, anyway?!

Leave it to England to turn a massive group of old war barracks into a grocery store.

The view up the hill from my house: Sheffield Ski Village. Because of a lack of snow most winters, there are "artificial alpine slopes", which from what I gather are large squares of brown carpet...

Peace Gardens in the city, during a sunny break.

Off to study with a friend in town today, though my flatmate has warned me there's a big game on between Sheffield Wednesday and Sheffield United and it's not safe to go out. *sigh. The risks one must take living in England. Miss you all.

When It Rains..

There are so many ways I could (sarcastically) finish that sentence. To give you an idea of what
I'm dealing with, this was the view out my window yesterday, at 8am and 8.10am, respectively.

Makes it a bit tricky deciding what to wear for the day. People say England's rainy all the time. Based on the last 2 weeks, I would argue that England actually has the most erratic weather known to mankind. It seems to actually be sunny most of the time, with short cloud/rain breaks. There is just no predicting it.

My first week here, I experienced the wonders of LDW (Laundry Dependent Weather). This phenomenon takes place when, upon the completion of hanging all your wet laundry on the line, the sun INSTANTLY disappears and it starts to drizzle. On my honour: I hung up and took down my laundry 3 different times in one morning, before giving up. It got completely soaked, the sun came out again, and 6 hours later, it was dry. I'm beginning to wonder if I should just hang my dirty clothes on the line, pour some laundry detergent over them, and let the weather do the rest..

My second week here, it was 80 degrees for 5 days in a row, no joke. (My clothes dried almost before I could finish hanging them on the line.)

The only thing I have to say about this week's weather is that yesterday, in my 10-minute walk to school, I got sunned upon, rained upon, hailed upon (which is about the time I start asking God what I have done to grieve Him so greatly), and eventually had to stand under an overhang because it was pouring so hard I couldn't see 5 feet in front of me. It took roughly 3 hours to dry out completely in the library. Time to invest in a knee-length raincoat. I wish I could more fully appreciate that Sheffield's nickname is 'city of rainbows'.

Going to School in England.

Where I had my first class of the year. After spending my life being educated at the family kitchen table, a church basement, someone else's kitchen table, musty portables, and various buildings constructed in the 1970's, this feels like a pretty swanky step up. I need to savour things like this because all week I've been reminded not only how long it's been since I was a student, but how very different it is being a Masters student, in England.

The biggest shocker: We do not have exams. We have essays. For each class, we have one small essay due mid-term, which the feedback on will hopefully help us gauge how to write The BIG Essay, due at the end of term, which is worth 100% of our grade. One Hundred Percent. ONE Essay.
Another unexpected shock is having so much free time. Well, "free" time. Once introduction week was over and the smoke settled, I realized with one class Monday and Tuesday, and two on Friday, I basically have a mid-week weekend! Which is great until you realize that you're actually expected to be working -- studying, reading, writing drafts, peer editing, doing preliminary research, etc. And then you realize that there are 5 campus libraries for this very purpose, and one of them, apart from being open 24/7, has SHOWERS in it, and a WEB PAGE devoted to the most comfortable places in the library to take a quick nap between endless days of study. This is about when I start feeling like a 5-year old who just wants to be told what to do, when to do it, how to do it, and when to give it to the teacher. Actually being expected to manage my time appropriately and responsibly is asking a bit too much. It's like the teachers think we're ADULTS or something.

Some very nice differences about the programme are that the professors all work together, between all the courses. For instance in one class, all of them will lecture over the course of the semester on their particular area of expertise within that class topic. And 3 of them will be going on the Field Class to Kenya, not just the one teacher who does most of the lectures. Seminars are also a big part of the courses, meaning you get to discuss what you're reading and hearing in lecture. There's one particularly intimidating class that is 'double-layered' -- our mark is based on how well we do writing a grant proposal for a hypothetical NGO, but just to pass the class, we need to complete 15 credits of work on other things. Fortunately you can streamline those credits to your area of interest, so mine will be volunteering at a refugee centre, writing book reviews, designing a website, and brushing up on French with a classmate from France who needs help with English. Can't complain about applicability.

While going over the syllabus for the class above, I found a section heading that made me laugh -- "Tender Writing Seminar". It turns out 'tender' is the term we use in the states for a grant, or grant proposal, but it's more fun to envision your whole class listening to sappy romantic music in a room full of roses while your teacher tries to lecture about how to write tenderly.

Sheffield 101.

This is a building right around the corner from my house. The engraved sign at the bottom reads: Upperthorpe Public Baths. I found this both hilarious and exciting when I first noticed it, walking to town with my flatmate. He said, "What, you don't have swimming pools in the states?" Oh right. Because a public bath is totally the same thing as a pool.

Some funny things I've learned about Sheffield lately:

* It's the 4th largest city in England. 4th! Yet no one (outside Sheffield) seems to have ever heard of Sheffield. And you can't say it's because they don't have a major football team,
because they have TWO. Sheffield United, and Sheffield Wednesday. Yes. Sheffield Wednesday.

* Speaking of football, it seems the closest Sheffield ever came to being famous, or infamous rather, was in 1989, when 96 people were crushed to death and 766 injured at a football game, also known as the Hillsborough Disaster (Hillsborough is the suburb just a mile up the road from me).

* The dog of choice around here seems to be the pitbull, or the ever-so-darling bull terrier, which I'm fairly certain is now a banned breed in the US.

* The mail comes (through the slot in the front door) at 10 o'clock IN THE MORNING.

* The standard greeting is "You alright?" which has thrown me off repeatedly, since the only time we'd ever ask anyone "are you alright?!" in the US is if there were something clearly un-alright with them.

* Pedestrians have the right-of-way at crosswalks... 50% of the time. Also, you walk on the left side of the sidewalk here.... 50% of the time. I need to speak to someone about the official rules on this because clearly, there are none.

* Apparently, you also pay to ride the bus... 50% of the time. Or, you don't pay at all, and the ignorant American student pays the listed standard fare, to the great surprise of the bus driver. Definitely going to try and get away with not paying next time.

* This week is apparently Police & Ambulance Siren Testing week. I actually stopped what I was doing today when I noticed that for a whole 30 seconds, there was no siren going off. Amazing!

* You get called love (or luve, in the thick northern accent), by everyone, all the time, no exceptions. I swear you could rob a bank here and the cashier would say "there ya go, luve!" as she handed you the bag of money. It's particularly interesting to me when people know I'm an ignorant American, and STILL do it. Like last week at the post office, I took almost 5 minutes counting out the correct change, and the lady at the desk just watched me, then eventually said "I'll need 5 o' those and 2 o' those, sweetheart." SWEETHEART! I totally got an upgrade while being a slow and annoying customer!

I have never been to the south of England, but I've heard from plenty of people that Northerners are much nicer than Southerners, and I'd believe it. Simply because I don't think you could get much nicer. Apart from all the loves and sweethearts, people are quite happy to go completely out of their way to give you directions or help you find something, or just acknowledge your presence. For that, I'll happily put up with ambiguous crosswalk etiquette and a few pitbulls.

Hiking the Peak District.

On Saturday, the Geography department took a hike from the city centre out to the Peak District, supposedly 6 miles, realistically more like 8. It's what the South Yorkshire area of England is famous for, and I can understand why now, having seen a slice of it. Endless fields of heather, massive boulders, even larger cows, sheep watching us from the boulders, sun, clouds, rain, sun, mist, clouds, sun, rain, changing every 3.492 minutes. My favourite part was following the 'Public Pathway' signs over stiles and walking the trail through various pastures of skeptical and curious livestock.