Week Five - eating pancakes, butter, and glue and sculpting busts

This week, we celebrated Pancake Day! Basically, on the Tuesday before Ash Wednesday (when Lent and fasting begin), the UK celebrates Shrove Tuesday, or Pancake Day, by devouring a ton of pancakes with lots of crazy toppings. Seems contrary to prepare for fasting by pancake-bingeing, but who am I to argue with a holiday that involves chocolate pancakes? Apparently, this tradition started about 1000 years ago when folks decided that fasting season should be kicked off with a massive party where people ate at much fatty food as possible. Mardi Gras or 'Fat Tuesday" has the same origin - crazy right? My College advertised this event as a chance (no joke) for "all of us to eat ourselves stupid", so all the dorms got together to cook the traditional pancakes. We flipped some nutella-loaded pancakes and covered them with toppings both sweet and savory -- we're talking everything from berries and cream to onions and meat. I'll take a meat pancake for dinner any day. Good stuff. I plan on celebrating Pancake Day in the States -- I predict it will be a hit. Americans love celebrations involving food.

Also this week, I had another sculpting class! Unlike the last class where we sculpted a whole person (remember my little naked lady sculpture?), in this class we sculpted busts. We once again had a live model, and despite the fact that this time, she was fully clothed, I again had a tough time staring at her. I was always taught that was impolite -- old habits die hard. So, my lady bust might have suffered. In fact, I may have unknowingly compensated for the lack of staring by using my own likeness to sculpt the face, as my teacher walked up to my bust and said: 'you know, the first time people sculpt heads, they tend to sculpt themselves.' Now, I took this as a compliment (as I don't think I'm totally unfortunate looking), until she said, about a minute later: 'You know, it's interesting -- your bust looks like a man.'

Here's a pic of me sculpting my man-lady.

The compliments from Sue, my teacher, didn't stop there though. She was on fire that day. The next memorable comment/constructive criticism was: "She (or He, not sure at this point) looks good from the back." Since I had spent 99% of my time focusing on the face, and hadn't touched the back of the head (which, btw, had started to sag from the weight of the extra-large hair bun I gave Lady Bust to eliminate any doubt as to her femininity), you can see how this might be disconcerting.

Needless to say, I breathlessly await Lady Bust's arrival post-firing, as I'm sure she/he looks way better than I remember from Sue's comments. All joking aside though, I do have to tell you Sue's final comment at the end of class, when she was gazing at Lady-Man Bust before stuffing her in the transport box: "You're wasted on the law." She really thinks this kid has talent. That really meant something. She can call Lady Bust a man anyday.

That day was full of art for me (despite the fact that I had a 3,000 word essay due the next day that was about, oh, 20 words of the way there), as I also went to a mosaic making class! I was in heaven. I mosaic-ed (still not sure of proper terminology here, clearly) a mirror with bright-colored tiles. I thought it was very pretty, and my instructor did to (you see a theme here?) She said I had natural talent for this and 'quite the eye for color.' Don't worry though, my head isn't getting too big. As soon as I got home with it to proudly display the artistic genius to Will, he deflated my big head by asking if I got it from the kid's craft fair. (Due to that little quip, I didn't feel bad when our flatmate later asked him if he cut his own hair.)

I biked home carrying the mosaic (I mean, 'artistic genius') in one hand, while (shockingly!) it was raining, so my art was soaked by the time I got home. When the glue started to weaken and chunks of tile started to slide, I panicked and got the hair drier out. I know, I'm dedicated to my craft, be it kid's-craft-fair mosaics or Lady-Man Busts.

Later that night, I went to a formal dinner at Linacre, where I discovered what my 'third' would be in my series of 'bad' things to happen that day.

#1 was in the morning when I went to button the last button on my coat and all the buttons popped off. I think it was God's way of telling me to lay off the pancakes.

#2 was in the afternoon during mosaic-ing, when I was deep in (artistic genius) thought and raised what I thought was my panini to my mouth only to discover I raised the hand with the gluestick instead. When I saw the look of horror on the girl's face across from me as I was about to chomp into glue, I realized my error and tried to pretend I was sniffing it instead. In retrospect, I'm not sure which was worse. That's so genius-y, eh?

#3 was at the dinner when I bit into a what I thought was a big chunk of brie only to discover that it was in fact butter. In one bite, I consumed my caloric intake for the day. I think it would have been healthier to eat the glue.

Finally, we capped off the week with a trip to London with the Rotary Club. They took us on a fantastic walking tour around the city (through which I walked off my butter-eating calories) and we just fell in love with the city.

'Look kids, Big Ben!'

The Snyders do London.

Week Four - "cake" and Kristin Cavalleri

Fourth week kicked off with a trip to Woodstock to give a presentation to the Rotary Club there. As usual, I had a fabulous time (and unusually, I managed not to throw food on anyone during dinner). The next day, we had a class tour of New College which has been around since 1379 (they filmed parts of Harry Potter and James Bond there). Besides the beautiful castle-like buildings and chapel filled with medieval stained glass and carved wooden seats, they also have a famous Mound in the gardens where, if you stand in a certain spot and clap, you'll hear the Mound quack back at you. Sounds silly, I know, but it's just so bizarre and surprising and kinda neat when it happens, that you end up standing there for a while, clapping to yourself. (Apparently you can't clap to yourself for too long though, as security is serious about Mound protection... not that I would know or anything...)

Yes, this is the Mound. Only fellows of the college are allowed to climb the steps...

On Wednesday, we went to the Vic to help Kevin, Will's friend, ring in his birthday with some brews. And on Thursday, I went to an exchange dinner at St. Anne's College. What their College lacked in beauty (it was new, like Linacre), it made up for with a fine salmon dinner and unlimited wine. After dinner, as is custom, everyone retired to a special room for teeny-tiny glasses of port -- it's so Oxford. Then, on Friday, our whole crew went to Kevin's house to really celebrate his birthday. I attempted to bake a cake (basically, it looked like a cake and frosting container exploded all over the pan) and Will got Kev a poster of his fav American lady, Kristin Cavalleri. Sadly, The Hills has also infected England. The rest of the evening was spent laughing, playing Spoons, and taking pictures with Kristin posing in various locations around the house.

On Friday, Linacre had a Valentine's Day Kink Bop (you can just imagine the costumes for this one) that I attended, and then we celebrated Valentine's Day on Sunday with an amazing dinner at Brasserie Blanc and some dessert at G-n-D's. All in all, another fabulous week in Oxford...

Week Three - punked, Medea-style.

One of my classmates invited a group of us over for lunch on Monday for a traditional Pakistani meal. His wife must have been cooking for days, because there were like 8 different dishes waiting for us (you can see some in the pic below)...

Having never eaten anything like this, I was psyched to dig in. Everything was amazing, until I ravenously chomped down on what I thought was a big olive. When my mouth started to burn like the fire of 1,000 suns, my face turned beat red, my nose spontaneously started to run, and my eyes started to stream tears, I realized it was not an olive. I had chomped down into my first hardcore exotic pepper. I frantically looked around for water, a napkin, anything to stop the burning sensation without causing a commotion that would alert my hosts to my wimpy tolerance for spices. Nothing could hide the faucet-like reflexes of my nose and eyes though. One of my classmates saw, but thankfully attributed the tears to those of joy at finally having some home-cooking: 'Look', she said, 'Vanessa is so happy she's crying!' At that point my mouth had started to numb, so she was partially right.

On Wednesday we had another crew dinner, this time at Chutney, an Indian restaurant. Having learned from my earlier pepper incident, I made sure to ask the waiter for the mildest dish on the menu. The chicken korma I got was amazing, and I was able to both feel my mouth and remain tear- and snot-free. Success!

On Thursday, a group of us went to see Medea at the Oxford Playhouse. Never have I been so baffled by theater. When the actors busted out harmonicas in the first scene, I was concerned, but was willing to overlook the strange musical honky-tonk number thinking that maybe my naive theater tastes weren't sophisticated enough to get the brilliance of this modern Medea. However, when the harmonicas were joined by the keyboard (being played like Ross on Friends, one strange note at a time), cymbals, and (no joke) an electric guitar, I started to look around for reality-tv cameras. We were being punked. Others felt similar pain... as one reviewer put it: "It seemed to bring out a comedic aspect to Medea that I had never before appreciated and am quite sure shouldn't be there. I think it's somewhat cruel to pick out any other aspects for paticular recognition as there was no detail that did not add to the horror." Oh Medea, harmonicas just aint your thang.

The one and only set. See the cymbals on the right?

On Friday night, we went to a fundraising "uniform party" for Unicef, so everyone came in some sort-of uniform costume (or "fancy dress" as they call it here). The pic below is a bunch of my lady friends, mostly dressed as schoolgirls (the easiest fancy dress to put together), with one cheerleader thrown in. (Cheerleading costumes are tough to find because, alas, cheerleading is only a US thing! Who knew.) One of my favorite things about this town is that there is a costume party -- aka bop -- basically every weekend ... it's like Halloween 52 times a year. My personal heaven.

Then on Saturday night, we went to a prosecco/gamenight at a friend's place for some Apples-to-Apples madness. I thought I loved Taboo, but Apples-to-Apples makes Taboo look like Medea. Long story short, it's a game where everyone writes down their responses for categories like "Things you don't say on a plane" and then you guess who wrote what. As you can imagine, the responses get more and more outrageous as the night (and prosecco drinking) wears on... we were laughing so hard that we got noise complaints, and I'm fairly certain at least one person peed their pants.

Week Two - climbing the modeling chain, one wink at a time.

On Monday, we hopped on a bus to Stratford Upon Avon to see the Royal Shakespeare Company perform Arabian Nights. We had dinner at the Vintner restaurant beforehand (see pic below)...

checked out the adorable city (with architecture as it was when Shakespeare was there), and then headed to the theater. It was very likely the best play I've ever seen -- captivating story, great acting, creative sets. We left the theater in awe, and decided that we are definitely going to go back for their next show.

Tuesday and Wednesday were filled with schoolwork. Yes, although I don't often mention it, I am doing a lot of coursework, and even had an exam on Monday. I omit a lot of this as it might be, oh, just a tad bit boring to hear how I sat in the library for 6 hours writing an essay and (let's be honest) checking facebook, all while covertly eating a turkey sandwich that I had smuggled in via coat pocket. Also on Wednesday, I brought Will to yoga class. I actually snorted out loud while stifling laughter as the instructor, who took quite a shine to our Will, attempted to push Will's arms and legs into the correct position for downward dog. I was so proud of Will's efforts. It was all for naught though, as when he woke up the next morning and couldn't move his legs, he decided his yoga career was over.

On Thursday, we headed to Bookbinders, an adorable super-old pub, to play some cards. And on Friday, we hit the Ashmolean Museum to check out their paintings and exhibits (the violin exhibit for Will, and the jewelry exhibit for me). This was the closest thing to a 'shopping trip' that I've had since the Bicester Village incident of 2009. I think Will thought it was safe to take me somewhere that I could stare at the jewelry without being able to purchase it. Smart man. Also on Friday, I went to a dinner party where we ate pasta and played boardgames, and then headed to the Living Room and Purple Turtle (think loud pop music and sticky floors - classy!), two legendary Oxford hangouts. On Saturday, I went to Open Mic Night at the CR. I wish I had a talent to contribute to the show, but I don't think karaoke singing, cup flipping, or planner staring -- three of my strengths -- would qualify, so I merely observed. I missed the Aussie Bop that night because I just didn't have the strength to conjure up a kangaroo or koala costume. It's tough creating bop-attire every weekend!

And finally, on Sunday, I decided to audition to walk the runway in Oxford Fashion Week. When I saw the ad that said the designers were looking for a few students to hit the runway in pretty couture dresses, I just couldn't resist. This could be my big break! or not. After they took head-shots and full-body shots, they asked me to do a little runway walk, but having no real clue on how, I strode out there as if I was in an interview, being sure to make good eye contact with each of the designers. I may have even winked at the end pose. 'Um, yeah' sayeth head judge, 'could you maybe do that again, and this time when you walk, just stare at the wall?' Probably not a good sign. But, I lived my modeling dream for those 45 seconds! Look out Ms. Klum; Big V is ready to wink-walk her way to the top.

So, later, I drowned my failed-modeling-attempt sorrows over a pint and curry at Far From the Madding Crowd for Quiz Night. Team 'Quizlamic Jihad' (a name conjured up by our witty Lebanese friend Yas) was equally a disaster. Despite our mediocre performance though, we had a blast. Curry, cards, quizzing -- what a great way to spend a Sunday with friends.

Week One Hilary Term - Dad v. The Iguanas and My Quizzle, Fo Shizzle

Week One was packed - Let the Hilary Term madness begin! Where to start...

Rowing: The Isis water level was still too high to row (likely from the feet of slushy snow that fell over the holidays) so training consisted of doing some form of painful (yet strangely satisfying) indoor workout, every day. Monday was yoga. (The contorted positions the teacher had us perform resulted in me seeing my body in a whole new light - i.e. as I rolled into the ball he commanded, with my knees hugging my head and my face inches from my butt, I decided it was time to give up ice cream. No one's face should ever be that close to their butt. No good can come from that.) Tuesday was circuits. (I've described this before, so I'll spare you the tales of what it feels like after that 18th burpee -- a masochistic jumping/pushup move -- when you think your heart will explode.) Wednesday was more yoga and butt staring. Thursday was erging. (i.e. 20 to 30 minutes on the rowing machine, pulling as hard as possible, again with the heart-exploding feeling.) The only comfort I found from this one was discovering that my butt actually does not have enough padding on it to happily erg, as, during this exercise, I bruised my butt. So, two lessons from the erg: (1) I can continue to eat ice cream, and (2) it is possible to bruise a butt. Friday was jogging through the pretty park next door. Saturday was weights. (David, the rowing coach, after seeing my split time on the erg -- 2:20, which pales in comparison to my more muscle-y teammates whose quads are bigger than my waist -- was like, 'um, yeah, vanessa...we're gonna need you to lift some weights.') David devised a game plan for me with the machines, and I pumped iron that day until I couldn't feel my legs. I basically crawled back to the dorm. I think I'm well on my way to yet another MIP award.

Non-Rowing: On Monday, we had "mojito's" in the CR. (I use quotes, as none of the "mojito's" I've had in Oxford resemble the Miami mojito, aside from being served in a glass.) Still though, it was a nice 'welcome back to Oxford' via mojito event planned by Linacre. On Wednesday, we played some card at Kevin's, and I was once again reminded why I don't play cards for money. We had a blast though hanging out with this crew of friends (Kevin, Ben, Mark, Anna, and Yas) who has really turned out to be one of the reasons we're so in love with Oxford. On Thursday, I had a formal dinner with my advisor and her other advisees at Linacre. She shared stories of her husband's battle with the squirrels that devour the seeds in their birdfeeder, and I was able to reciprocate by regaling them with the tales of my dad's battle with the South Florida iguana population (explained below, for those of you with interest in Dad v. The Iguanas: Deathmatch. Think Under Seige, revisited).

Warning, long sidenote: For those of you that don't know, Dad Sisti has actually tried hanging garlic from the trees -- even though I assured him that only scared away vampires -- and has wrapped the trees in our lawn with sheets of tin in an attempt to stop the iguanas from climbing them. As you can imagine, our lawn looks quite interesting now to passersby. When that didn't work though, he smeared the tin with what looks like iguana blood. I thought he was trying to scare the iguanas away with the blood of their ancestors, but no, he assures me that it's just grease so that the little buggers will slip during their climbing attempts. Oh Dad. He has also tried flushing them out of the drainpipes with water hoses, and now, in a last ditch attempt to run them out, has even used, [gasp], chlorine! Extreme measures, I know. He says it's either him or them. He's turned our yard into Caddyshack.

On Friday, we had a crew dinner with the rowing club from another college, and then went to St. Anthony's college for a bop. On Saturday, we had another dinner with the students at Linacre at the Big Bang, hit Raoul's for some cocktails, and then a house party. On Sunday, I skipped out on Ceilidh Scottish Dancing in the dining hall to head to Gardener's Arms for quiz night. The highlights of the evening included our crucial discussion over the team name (contenders included Jizzle My Quizzle and New Quiz on the Block, with the actual team name being blog inappropriate), our formerly second-place team being relegated to last place for improperly scoring a competitor's score sheet, and Will and Mark trying to ride one bike home.

And now, a few pictures for your viewing pleasure:

The snow is gone, but the frost remains.

This is my walk through the park.

We wanted to get some flowers to make our dorm room more homey.

These are mine, still fighting after 2 weeks.

And these are Will's.

Clearly, they have totally given up.

Week 0: Snowtastic! Snow-Rowing, Flashdance, and Menudo...

When we got back to Oxford (after being snowed in at Birmingham for hours), we were shocked and overjoyed at what we found: SNOW! People had told us that it hardly ever snows in Oxford, and definitely not in large amounts, so when we saw feet of snow on the ground, with more pouring from the sky, we were amazed. It was beautiful. It covered everything, the open fields next to the dorm, all the trees, the sidewalks, the fountain and the lakes, and -- due to the rareness of the occasion and thus oxford's inability to plow anything -- all the streets. The town shut down for the week, basically until the snow melted.

The dorm...

The fountain that everyone had been swimming in a week earlier.

And Broad Street....so beautiful.

The rest of the week was busy. On Monday (Jan 11), I went to a Rotary meeting at the Jordans and District Club to make a presentation. I had a lovely time at dinner with great company -- the Rotarian next to me was telling me how I had to go punting down the river with a Pimm's Cup in hand to truly experience the Spring in Oxford. (It's on the list now!) And several other Rotarians approached me after the meeting to offer help with my research on legal education (as they have sons, daughters, and friends who are barristers or solicitors here). The friendliness and giving spirit of the Rotarians never ceases to amaze me. It makes me so proud to be a Rotary Scholar.

On Wednesday, I woke up at 6am to hit the river to row. It was dark. It was snowing. And there was ice on the boat. But that did not stop the practice (to my horror), oh no. My hands were little frozen stumps, but I molded them around the oar and tried to hear the cox's instructions through the 4 layers I had on my head. It was an experience. The highlight of the trip was biking home on the snow-covered streets and having a bus fly by me throwing a giant wave of dirty snowy-slush onto me and Henry. As the slush slid down my face, I decided to walk the rest of the way.

On Friday, we went over to Will's friend Kevin's house to play some spades, watch some movies, and eat some pizza and popcorn. Good times. On Saturday, I went to the Christ Church artroom to make some artwork for our plain dormroom. (We now have a pretty little oil pastel piece up. Between that and our new flowers that we got at the covered market, our dorm is looking quite cozy!) Then that night, I went to an 80's bop. You can't quite tell from the pictures, but I went as the chick in Flashdance.

You can't see the spandex and legwarmers, but rest assured, they're there.

Good times.

On Sunday, we went to Far From the Madding Crowd to collect our free drinks from our last pub quiz win, and to defend our title (more for the drinks though, as we know lightning doesn't strike twice). We tied for fourth, not too shabby for Team Menudo. (Yes, the Puerto Rican boy band. As you can see, we're struggling for team names.)

Amo Roma! Scuzzi-ing our way through Rome...

With a week to go before classes started, we decided to use our time wisely and travel. So, Jan 4-8, we went to Rome! Our trip started out with a big bang when we left luggage in the train and thought we might not be able to get on the plane, but thanks to the amazing Birmingham train peeps, we miraculously recovered it in time to hop on the plane and wipe the sweat off our brows. We had an amazing time from the moment we got off the plane (leaving our plane food -- mustard lamb sandwiches -- behind) and to the hotel (where Will washed his feet in our "feet washer", otherwise known as the bidet - oh Will).

Day 1 - We spent our first day exploring St. Peters and the Vatican Museums. This was probably my favorite sightseeing activity. St. Peters Square and the inside of the Basilica (the largest church in the WORLD) is just unreal -- not only is it breathtaking (with the paintings, gold, sculptures, and marble), but it's also just magical and spiritual. It is a very powerful place. And the Vatican Museums - well, the thousands of rooms with precious paintings, sculptures, frescoes, and artifacts is indescribable. We spent quite a while looking up at the Sistine Chapel and marveling at Raphael's School of Athens.

The Snyders in St. Peter's Square.

Inside the Basilica. Doesn't look real, does it?!

Getting frisky in the Vatican Museum.

Wait, where did Will go?!

Swans - Arrghhhhhh.

(If this makes no sense, see last post on duck feeding.)

We had dinner in Piazza Navona, a beautiful and very famous piazza in Rome. We relaxed, people-watched, and took in the atmosphere (amazing fountains and a carnival) over a bottle of wine, brushetta, ceasar salad, and of course, pasta. After dinner, we made one of our 52 pit stops for gelato. Seriously, I've never seen Will eat so much dessert in my life. You'd think I starved him all day. I, of course, loved this, and took full advantage by also eating my weight in gelato. So much for my diet.

Thought I was kidding, eh? Nope - I have photographic evidence.

They have, um, interesting gelato flavors in Rome. If you look close, you'll see that they ran out of "Viagra".

Day 2 - We hopped on the Hop On - Hop Off bus for the day to catch the big picture view of the city. We saw everything that day. Rome has so many amazing historical/cultural sights -- it's crazy thinking that one city can hold so much. That night we had dinner at Piazza del Popolo and saw Sherlock Holmes with Italian subtitles. It was a blast.

Us at the Trevi Fountain. I kept trying to explain to Will that you're supposed to throw the coins in with your right hand over your left shoulder, but Will always likes to chuck coins to the beat of his own itunes (as you all know), so he tossed them in basketball free-throw style.

The Spanish Steps. There were so many incredibly romantic spots in this city. This was one of them.

(That is, until Will ditched me -- or as he says, paused to buy gelato, which I didn't notice. I panicked in the hoards of people who were mostly yelling -- which they would describe as 'animated speaking' -- in Italian. Petrified, I didn't move from the fountain. It was late, it was dark, and I knew there was no way I could find my way back to the hotel -- remember my sense of direction? When he found me a few minutes later, there might have been a tear or two (or ten) of relief shed. That actually was romantic.)

Will - nice try. Your escape plan was foiled. Sorry sucker, but you're legally bound to me.

Day 3 - After a fantastic breakfast of prosciutto and melon (seriously, every meal was so delicious - ok, except for one lunch we had by the Colosseum where Will literally gagged on his brushetta) -- overlooking some ruins (we literally stumbled upon ancient ruins every 10 feet during this trip), we headed to the Colosseum and Roman Forum. Will's favorite part of sightseeing was definitely the Colosseum -- it was just enormous (like our football stadiums today) and technologically advanced for the day. The ground floor had compartments for holding animals, prisoners, and gladiators that were going to battle it out for the crowds, and it had trap doors so that fighters and scenery (including forests and mountains) could 'magically' appear with the spectators watching in awe. They even had a water battle there by flooding the compartments. Unreal. Of course, after seeing this, we bought Gladiator so that we could see what this would look like in real life.

The Colosseum.

The Roman Forum.

A super cool statue.

She must have been a hot chick back in the day!

We had a yummy pizza lunch in Piazza Venezia overlooking the Viktor Emmanuel II Monument. Later that night, we had yet another amazing dinner on a little side street (and another bottle of wine!) Then shopping, and of course, more gelato.

Homemade pasta, clams, and zucchini - sooo delicious.

We were sad when our trip was nearing its end (although to be honest, we were slightly exhausted from all the traveling and the miles we walked over the few days touring the city -- the gallons of gelato we ate probably didn't help either). We loved all the amazing history, culture, and sights of Rome. We adored the food -- haven't eaten that good since Mama Sisti cooked for us. And, we appreciated Italian culture. I have to say, though, that being there and experiencing Italian culture (and remember, I'm Italian!) made me appreciate British culture even more. I like the way Italians are animated, excited when they talk (think louder like Americans and lots of hand gestures), and family/friends oriented (taking hours to dine and spend time with loved ones), but -- and this is just my own impression -- they aren't as 'polite' a culture as the British (but then again, I don't think anyone is).

For example, when you're walking down an Italian street, if you don't get out of the person's way who is walking toward you, you WILL get hit, head on. I say this, because each day, to Will's amusement, I performed an experiment where I would walk down the street and stand my ground, that is, I didn't hop out of everyone's way like I do normally. I just walked to see if anyone would even duck back a shoulder when clearly they were going to ram me. Well, EVERY time, there was a massive collision, and not even a hint of a 'scuzzi' (translation: 'excuse me') from my collider. I 'scuzzied' all over the place, because I just couldn't help it. But seriously, it was as if it was normal to ram into people. I think people brace for it, instead of scoot. During one walk (where I was back to scooting and ducking out of the way of people since I was sick of bruising myself), a little kid (like we're talking 8), even punched me in the gut! Bewildered, I looked at him and his mom and said a firm "SCUZZI!" I thought I would be the shining example of politeness (to show that gut punching strangers = not cool), but, alas, I don't think they noticed.

I now really appreciate the British way of bending over backwards not to come remotely close to touching passersby. And, I sorta like the British way of looking away or at the ground or basically anywhere but making eye contact after experiencing the Italian male stare down one too many times. I hate to quote The Hills, but as Lauren said, "Rome is like one big construction site."

Despite the bruises, though, it was still really interesting to experience this difference in cultures. Italians seem to be a lot more like Americans! As in, walking in Rome is a lot like walking in New York City. So, I think we were able to assimilate nicely. We loved our time in Rome, and have decided we have to go back to visit all the other amazing Italian cities. (I think Will just wants more gelato.)

Attack of the killer swans.

The New Year started off with some beautiful weather -- freaking cold, of course, but SO sunny!

New Years Day at the dorm.

Yes, that's a wine glass in the bird feeder.

We went for an amazing walk around the University Park next to the dorm. The ponds were frozen over so the birds were just walking around on them. See below...

The next few days were also sunny! Unreal. So I decided that I had to take advantage of this and go for a jog. It was honestly the most beautiful, picturesque jog I have ever seen. I jogged through fields with horses, tiny paths enclosed by brush on both sides with a canopy of trees overhead, over bridges with streams and swans below -- it was unreal. I felt like I was jogging on a movie set like Anne of Green Gables.

Since I loved seeing all the ducks the day before (and was sooo jealous watching people feed them), I made my own little ziploc bag full of duck food (i.e. leftover bread which I carefully ripped into tiny duck-food-sized portions) and stuffed it in a pocket during the jog. When we came to a part of the river that wasn't frozen, we got the bag out, and it was as if we rang the supper bell. I think the ducks know the sound of rustling ziploc bag, because like 80 ducks swarmed us in like 9 seconds flat. I was totally cool with this, and happily threw lots of food around, so that they wouldn't fight over it. Then, however, 6 huge, and I mean HUGE swans arrived. Swans look super pretty and calm when they're all swimming in the lake, but when they run at you full speed standing fully-erect, they're freaking terrifying! The swans heads came just below my chin! They stomped all over the poor ducks and ran right at me -- no, they ran right at my bag labeled "duck food." I tried backing up, but they bum rushed me. I panicked, turn and ran, but they literally chased me... so, terrified, I screamed, threw the bag in the air, and sprinted down the path... past the little British kids who stared at me, the crazy yank. Freaking swans.

New Years Eve, UK style!

Even though we had a great visit with our families, we were super excited to get back to Oxford! After recovering from the ridiculous jetlag, the first thing we did was see our friends. On Wednesday, we went to The Victoria, a beautiful, cool pub in Jericho, and played hearts and spades from 3pm to midnight, while polishing off quite a few bottles of red wine. (I think we got these peeps hooked on spades and hearts, because we also played hearts from 9pm 'til 2am on Friday night!) Good times.

This is the ceiling of the Vic. Nice, eh?

On Thursday, we hit the town for New Years Eve with Will's buddies. We went to the Duke of Cambridge, and then hit the Blue. (And later in the night, we stopped for some post-party Greek food.) It was a blast.

Leaving the dorm to start the partay...

Will's boys and the V.

Bustin' a move. Just like her dad.

Awwww. Midnight in England.

Bienvenidos a Miami!

We headed home for a week to celebrate Christmas with the families. When Mama Sisti booked this flight months ago (she doesn't mess around), we really thought we would want to stay in the UK for Christmas, just to have a fun change. However, when the temperature dropped, Oxford emptied, and Henry's bike lock froze (so I couldn't even ride him!), we started to have a change of heart. It really didn't feel anything like Christmas around here without our families -- I needed mom's decorations, Christmas tree, hand-embroidered (by mom, of course) Vanessa-stocking, and cooking. So, needless to say, we were really excited to get back, visit with everyone, and celebrate Christmas Sisti-Snyder style.

On Wednesday, we did last-minute Christmas shopping (and laid out in the parking lot of Transmission King to catch some rays while dad was getting the car fixed) and played a ton of cards with the Sisti's (who I swear must have been practicing Spades while we were gone -- we lost every game. We, of course, attributed this to severe jetlag.) On Thursday, we spent Christmas Eve with the Sisti's. It was a blast playing with Kaitlyn and Ashley (my adorable, and shockingly energetic, nieces) and participating in the annual Yankee Swap Christmas Gift Exchange. Then on Christmas Day, the Snyders all came over for a day of opening stockings, eating, relaxing, eating, playing another Yankee Swap Gift Game, laughing, and, more eating. (If you knew how good Mama Sisti's food was, you'd understand.) Saturday was spent golfing and shopping and Sunday we visited with friends in Miami and Davie. All in all, it was a fabulous visit. We miss our families already.

The Sisti crew.

Me and the bro.

A few random highlights from the trip:

1. Watching my dad bust-a-move to Kanye West. Now I know where I get it from...

2. Watching Will laugh at the Walgreens "HINI shot" sign. Quote Will, "Look! Hiney shots! Hahaha..."

3. Watching the fam laugh at Man v. Wild when Bear Grylls made a sleeping bag out of an inside-out sheep, and called it a "sheeping bag."

4. Seeing an old family friend who said: "I remember when you used to dance on our pool table in your swimsuit." Some things never change.

5. Trying to get out of Heathrow 3 days before Christmas. We woke at 4am, left the dorm at 4:45, walked with luggage in the freezing dark cold to the 5:30am bus, took a two hour bus ride, and then stood in lines for two hours to catch a 10am plane. I have never seen 1,000 people queue for anything before, let alone to check-in for a flight. There were hoards of people. We must have gone through 9 security checkpoints, where we encountered: a lady so drunk next to us in line that she literally passed out, hitting the floor like a cut-down sequoia (airport staff put little gates around her so no one would step on her), a female guard who gave me a pat-down that I'm sure cannot be legal, a polish security officer (Vladimir) who had a crush on the V chatting me up about Poland and my little naked lady sculpture (who yes, made it home in one piece, head in tact), and finally, a security woman who took her job very seriously and interrogated Will about his aspirin for 30 minutes while I chuckled to myself (since he had just teased me about Vlad's crush, which by the way, had saved me 25 minutes of in-depth headache-medication inspection.)