3 bottles of Pepto: $20; 5 bottles of sunblock: $50; Hanging in Portugal with friends: Priceless.

After saying goodbye to Tangier (and the accompanying stomach irregularity), we hopped on the 'fast' ferry to sail back to Spain (where clean clothes stashed in the rental car eagerly awaited us). I finally got to let my hair down and take off the baggy wool sweater that I had worn in the Moroccan heat for four days -- that's a smell I won't miss. In Spain, we picked up our car and drove through the beautiful Spanish countryside for four hours until crossing the border into Portugal (this time without the uzi-clad soldiers and resulting pants peeing). And after a whole day of traveling, we finally arrived at our final destination: the Rising Cock Hostel in Lagos, Portugal.

We felt right at home, as we were assigned to the Teabag Room - how English! I slept in the Earl Gray bunkbed; Will cozied up in Camomile.

The next five days were a mixture of beaching at three different locales (which for me meant sunblocking, every 20 minutes, and holding an umbrella over my head, constantly, to the point that a local commented, in Portugese, 'Why is she under an umbrella like Rihanna?'), volleyballing, city exploring (including finding an abandoned shack that Will wants to adverse possess and turn into a hostel), gelato eating (at least twice a day, and yes, I gained eight pounds), flip cupping (it was Spring Break in the hostel afterall), and finally, an amazing day trip to Lisbon. You'll see from the pictures below why we fell in love with Lagos, Lisbon, and basically the Portugese coastal town lifestyle.

The streets of Lagos looked like they were covered in mosaic artwork, and you walked on pretty blue and white patterned tiles everywhere you went. The houses were brightly colored and had such charm with their wrought iron balconies and hanging lamps. Such a pretty, comfortable, small beach town, with character.

Beach #1 - similar to Miami

Beach #2 - gorgeous rocky coastline

Beach #3 - most beautiful beach I've ever seen

Will and 'Kev on Kev'

Big V and the Dubya

The Crew

One of the fantastic seafood dishes I had: squid! They were so big that you could see their huge eyeballs, which I had trouble chomping down on... so I gave Kev all the heads. After the sixth eyeball, even he had trouble.

Will and I took a day trip up to Lisbon and spent the day trying to quickly soak up all the amazing sights in this huge city. You could fit 150 Lagos's (population 18,000) inside Lisbon (population 2.8 million)! We wished we had more than just a day, but we definitely tried our best to squeeze it all in. Let's see, we toured:

The Castle of Saint Jorge,

The Lisbon Cathedral,

The Largo das Portas ao Sol,

The Arch at the Commerce Square,

and, Will's favorite, The Jeronimos Monastery in Belem.

In between jetting from Alfama to Belem and all around town to see these (and numerous other) cultural sights, we spent time wandering around the winding, cobblestone-covered streets of Lisbon, where you'd look up to see sunflowers covering balconies and elderly couples staring down at you, whilst soaking up the sun. It was lovely. We even had time for some shopping, some pastry-eating, and a nice long lunch in Belem, on the water, overlooking the Monument to the Discoveries. The perfect day.

We spent our last day in Portugal hanging out at the beach, laughing with our new friends that we'd met along our journey, and helping our host, Selmo, celebrate the opening of his restaurant, NahNahBah that evening. Me and Yas even spun some tunes.

Thus, we had a fabulous time on our holiday, from the cultural experience in Morocco to the relaxing beach time in Portugal. We saw some amazing things, had a ton of fun with our friends, and made memories that will force us to smile (and even snort-laugh) when we think of them that night when we're stuck in the office at 3am writing a legal brief. Now that is some holiday.

Throwin' our mac down in Moroc

On March 24, a few weeks before I had to buckle down to study for exams, we took off with our good friends, Kevin and Yasmine, for a ten-day adventure to Morocco and Portugal. Each day was full of laughs to the point of snorting despite the travel-related mishaps (including a one-hour ferry that took four, and a manual rental-car for an automatic-only driver -- somewhere near the Portugese border, I'm fairly certain we lost the clutch), hourly pee-stops (whether we were near a bathroom or not, and honestly, after seeing some of the bathrooms, I'd prefer not), random injuries (including sunburns, as Kev is as pale as me -- sorry Kev-o, 'pink' is not the new 'tan'), illness (my stomach decided it disapproved of housing Moroccan food in my system for more than approximately ten minutes), and the fact that most of us wore the same outfit for four days in a row (which likely prevented us from dodging the street vendors; they could smell us coming). There are so many stories from this trip that I could go on for pages, but I'll just give you a few highlights, and hope that our memories are good enough someday (when we're sitting behind a desk at midnight working on a brief) to recall all the little moments where we laugh-snorted our way through Moroc-tugal.

So, here goes... Our adventure started when we arrived in Portugal and picked up our rental car. Lesson #1 - Portugese rental car companies have two options: manual and manual. Below is a picture of Kev trying to teach Yas to drive stick, to do a four-hour drive, in the dark, in a foreign country. After ten minutes of not being able to make the car move from the parking spot, she realized she had her foot on the brake. When she said this, Kev realized he was driving. Plus, we needed to get moving, as the rental car peeps were starting to stare wondering what the heck us foreigners were doing sitting in the lot revving the car. Crazy Americans.

We drove four-hours, crossed the border into Spain (despite the soldiers with uzis stopping us at the border, causing Kev to pee himself -- the first of the no-bathroom pee-breaks) and spent the night in a Spanish hotel in Algeciras without air conditioning (and thus, I can pinpoint the moment where our clothes started to stank). We woke the next morning and hopped on the 'one-hour fast-ferry' into Tangier, Morocco.

Four hours later, we had arrived. Bonjour Morocco! (I say 'bonjour' since they speak French there. Arabic is the main language, but I failed to learn 'wussup' in Arabic. I didn't need to know though, as my travel-companions preferred that I keep my loud-American-yapper shut so as not immediately identify us as U.S. tourists. Unfortunately, I don't think it helped, as my paleness and pink bandana didn't really scream native. I tried, every once in a while, though, to throw in a "what's it all aboot, eh?" so that at least they'd think we were Canadian.) We arrived at the beautiful Hotel Continental (interestingly, where an Indiana Jones movie was filmed) and settled in.

The lobby...

We couldn't find someone to take a pic, so someone had to be photoshopped in. Thus, the Will-sized space.

We were going for a Modern Moroccan Magazine cover look.

The next day, we explored Tangier. We shopped in the souks which were full of pretty lanterns, colorful spices, sparkley caftans (traditional dress), and sadly, some Louis Vuitton knockoffs.

We checked out the city, including its museum, winding narrow streets, and coastline.

We also ate a ton of food. Everything was so inexpensive that we were able to get a huge lunch for about 12 dirham (1 euro!) For 4 dirham, I got a donut (see below) and complimentary cleansing of my system ten minutes later.

Although it was a very picturesque area, it was also a very poor area, without the basic infrastructure that we take for granted. Garbage services, law enforcement, health codes, even hot water -- all of these things are a luxury that are not always present. Sometimes you just don't appreciate how good you have it until you're in a Moroccan bathroom which consists of a hole, without toilet paper, plumbing, or any control over your stomach due to a suspect donut.

The culture shock is the thing that I will remember most about Tangier. Women were completely covered and did not hang with the menfolk in any social settings like restaurants or even in the mosques. It was always groups of men sitting together, drinking mint tea, watching footie, or kneeling for prayer together. Also, hearing the call to prayer five times during the day, chanted by the muezzin over the loud speakers like an announcer at a sporting match, was startling (especially at 5am). It was interesting to see the devotion to prayer -- people stopped what they were doing, left work, and knelt on their mats to pray. Also fascinating, they did not sell any form of alcohol anywhere (we're sure, we looked).

I tried my best to respect the culture while we were there and to blend (although, as I mentioned, this is tough for a pale redhead). I covered myself from head to toe, wore my baggiest sweatshirt (even in the heat, which again, didn't help the clothing-stank-situation) and a bandana over my hair, and tried to speak discreetly (which, again, was hard as anyone who has heard the volume of my laugh knows all too well). The toughest thing for me, though, was trying not to smile. It's a natural impulse, and one that I hadn't realized did not transcend cultures. The first thing the hotel manager told us when we arrived was "don't smile, or they'll make you pay for it." Quite a statement.

All in all, we had a wonderful time in Tangier. I enjoyed experiencing such a drastically different culture, and am eager to explore more areas now beyond Western Europe. You just don't realize how different things are in other areas of the world until you're lost in the maze of a moroccan souk and you can't ask for directions because you either 1) don't speak Arabic 2) can't find a woman to ask, or, 3) can't ask anyone because they've all hit the mat for prayer -- it just 'aint your average shopping mall. I learned a lot during this portion of our trip... about Morocco, and America.

In the next post, I'll describe the next leg of our journey: Portugal! Stay tuned...

Boyce Avenue crosses the pond

During 10th week, on March 23, the boys of Boyce Avenue arrived in Oxford. In anticipation of their arrival and upcoming concert, Will and I set to the streets like promotors hanging BA posters anywhere without a 'we'll throw you in the slammer if you flyer this wall' sign.

We got to spend some time showing the boys around town...

...at Christ Church, doing a BA poster shot.

...at the Cape of Good Hope pub doing some fish-n-chips.

They really didn't need us to show them around though, as some of their fans recognized them and wanted to give them tours of their colleges! That's so Beatles. Such rockstars.

Quizzing at the Rotary Conference in Eastbourne

In Ninth Week, I headed to Eastbourne on the southeast coast of England for the Rotary District Conference. All the scholars studying in the district attended, and we just had a blast visiting with each other, meeting Rotarians from various clubs, spending time with Rotarians in our host clubs, and participating in sessions where we learned more about the amazing work Rotary does around the world.

All the scholars along with Peter, our fearless leader and program Chairman.

On Friday night, I had a lovely dinner with the Rotarians in my host club, the Rotary Club of Bicester, and then headed to a show and a pub with the other scholars. And on Saturday, I attended sessions where Rotarians described the work they were doing in orphanages and hospitals in Africa, in the devastated areas of Haiti, and all around the world. It was inspiring. Hearing their stories makes you realize the impact just one person can have, and how important it is for all of us to strive to do so. It is all too easy to get wrapped up in our own worlds -- Rotarians like the ones who spoke remind you of the bigger picture.

It wasn't all business at the conference though; we had a ton of laughs, a few games, some dancing, and a bunch of eating too!

Me, Jola, and Lars at the Ball on Saturday night.

One of my favorite conference moments (besides the 'Knicker Lady's' session on the history of knickers, my jog along the boardwalk, and the spontaneous opera singing during the Ball dinner) was when the scholars competed against a Group Study Exchange team from South Africa and England in a University Challenge/Jeopardy-like gameshow. See below...

We started out strong, by answering some questions about Oxford (thanks to Peter for some freebies there). Even though I didn't know what Oxford College Bill Clinton attended (I do now: Univ), I knew about the Isis River thanks to rowing and the Ashmolean which luckily we just visited. Our luck stopped there though, because I, and the rest of my shy teammates I might add, blanked on Obama's daughters' names (seriously? I didn't know Bush's kids names -- other than as the 'Bush twins' -- and he was there for 8 years and they liked to party; so odds were not in my favor for knowing the names of the new non-scandalous grade-schoolers), the last country to win the world cup (even with an Italian on our team!), and the identities of Oscar winners (ok, we have no TV). We got crushed by the competition, who apparently watch CNN, footie, and the Oscars.

All in all: we laughed a lot (largely at ourselves), met a lot of great people, and were inspired to serve -- what a lovely weekend, Rotary style.

Week Eight - Vic moves in.

Week Eight was my last week of classes. Thus, I have officially taken my last class as a student (or so my parents hope). I cannot believe how quickly Michaelmas and Hilary Terms just flew by; now only Trinity Term remains, during which I'll take exams and write my dissertation. You know how sometimes you wish you could just freeze time at a certain point and sloooooow things down? Well, now is that time for me.

So, this week, in addition to sitting through my last class with Hubert (one of the best teachers I've had, due to his extensive knowledge on the subject, eagerness to impart it upon us, and concern for our well-being), I met with Peter, the Christ Church art tutor, to discuss taking more artsy classes and to pick up my lady-man bust. Please allow me to introduce you to Vic:

Her eyes were freaking Will out during his 3am bathroom runs, so we decided to cover those bad boys with some shades. (The bandana and hat were later additions, to complete her look.) It would be a gross understatement to say that I'm slightly concerned that my art teacher said she/he resembled me, but other than that, I'm pleased with the bust's final look. She/he looks pretty realistic, enough that her stare gave Will the willies. We had to name her, so we chose a classic English royal name (Victoria) that was also the name of our fav pub (The Vic), and androgynous, for obvious reasons. Thus, Vic was born.

Speaking of birthdays, I finally discovered Henry I's actual birthday during a routine check-up. He started making some random squeaking noises, so I took him in, and while he was being primped, I asked the bike dude when he thought Henry was made. Bike Dude stared Henry up and down, and then said, "November 1980." Amazed, I said, "Wow, could you tell that from the parts or something?" And he said, "Well, yes, that, and the fact that the date is printed on the spoke." Doh. I felt about as embarrassed at that moment as I did an hour earlier when I sat on Henry's seat without noticing that a bird had just relieved himself on it. In short, Bike Dude had two things to laugh at as I walked out of the shop with Henry: my inability to observe the obvious and my bird-poop-covered-butt.

Other amusing things (maybe just to me) that happened this week:

1) I went to a 50's Bop in the Linacre CR where I witnessed adult males attempt to hula hoop to the beat of Grease Lightning. Frightening what people will do under the influence of beer and broadway musicals.

2) We discovered that one of our friends is actual royalty, a 'Lady', as her mom is a princess. No joke, her godmother is Princess Diana. I then spent a few hours trying to figure out if there was anyway I could get some random royal person (even someone like 826th in line for the throne - beggars can't be choosers) to adopt me. Princess Big V has such flair, no?

3) I tried to figure out a way to get us to Spain for the running of the bulls in July. If anyone has ideas for where to stay for this event, pass them along as I'm all ears. I didn't realize this was like the Spanish superbowl; the hostels have been booked since last year's run. And don't worry, Mom, I'll be careful whilst bull running. I've already researched safety tips, my favorite of which is: "take the corners tight, as the bulls are going to go wide." See? Not to worry. I have a plan.