The night before I caught a plane to Dublin for the U.Va. in Ireland January-term program, a few friends and I went to see the movie "P.S.
London is really cold. The weather in London is terrible. London is so expensive. You will get mad cow disease if you eat the meat. These are just a few of the frankly horrifying stereotypes of London I heard before leaving for my semester abroad. While my other friends were hearing, "You'll love Valencia," or "Sienna is the most amazing place on earth," I was bid farewell with completely mixed reviews about a city I had never visited. Through my column this semester, I hope to dispel or confirm these stereotypes by relaying some of my personal experiences to my faithful audience (cough, Mom and Dad, cough). This week's stereotype is a more positive one: "British people are so nice." Upon hearing this statement, I was a little more uplifted before my departure to the Motherland, but one of my first encounters with a Brit was not so pleasant. After queuing up (the British version of getting in line) at a local pub, I was waiting to place my order for a nice cold Guinness when two bartenders simultaneously became available.
Normally I do not write advice columns, because whenever I do offer advice, I somehow instigate a world war ("Why yes, Archduke Ferdinand, I think going for a drive is a great idea") or some freak coal mining accident ("No, guys, I'm pretty sure the canary is just playing dead"). Recently, however, I've been receiving a lot of letters asking for advice.
Even as the bitter cold of winter is finally setting in, my mind cannot help but skip to the chaos to come.
Martin Luther King Jr. Day rarely intersects with the University's academic calendar because the third Monday of January is often during Winter Break.
After spending four years learning and living in Charlottesville, some alumni set out for other cities or distant countries.
My intention for this column was to relate how someone eats his eggs to his character. I always believed that people who only eat scrambled eggs are unadventurous -- they can't fathom eating something with various textures and colors.
Author's note: written on Wednesday, January 16th -- you'll see why it's relevant in just a minute. When the clock struck 12 on New Year's Eve a few weeks ago and the band struck up a chord, they were playing "Auld Lang Syne," not the "Good Ol' Song." It should have been evident right there that 2008 was not going to be kind to the Cavalier football team.
In case you haven't noticed why so many first-year girls are looking lost and self-conscious in the Rugby/Madison/Chancellor area in the past few days, it's because sorority rush has descended upon us.
The plaque outside informs passersby that on Oct. 6, 1817, the cornerstone of the University was laid on this very spot in the presence of James Madison, James Monroe and Thomas Jefferson.
It's not a pretty scene. "Weren't you looking?" the older woman bellows. She's cradling a bruised ankle in her left hand; her right is knotted up in a fist, thrust out like a promise to the erstwhile driver.
Thomas Jefferson is known as a Renaissance man. He was a lawyer, a political pundit and leader, an architect, a scientist, a farmer, an ambassador, the founder of our University and America's first wine connoisseur.
The football is hiked, thrown and caught in the end zone for a Wahoo touchdown. Immediately, fans in Scott Stadium are singing and swaying to another spirited rendition of the Good Ol' Song.
I am not one of those people who enjoy the variation of seasons. My ideal climate exists somewhere between 70 and 85 degrees -- Fahrenheit of course.
East Market Streets lies the historic Downtown Charlottesville Mall, a shopping venue situated only a trolley ride away.
Before I had a car in Charlottesville, I would often hear my friends whine about how hard it was to find parking around Grounds and downtown.
Man, it's been a rough several days, and I'm not even doing the obligatory whining about finals. My car was wrecked (was it my fault?
We've all had that feeling. The one worse than sleeping through your alarm. Worse than final exams.
On-Grounds dining has its perks -- proximity to classes, to-go boxes for students in a hurry, a broad choice selection of foods for the vegetarian or the vegan and, one of the more innovative aspects of U.Va.
"Girl, I just gotta have my java!" This is what Gail, the manager of the restaurant-café that has since closed, would shout at me.
