Bristol Open Day

If we ignore my Year 10 visit to Exeter's Campus and my 'for the yolo' tour around Bournemouth Uni (no offence to anyone who goes there, it's just not got the best reputation for my courses..or many others...), Bristol Uni was my first so-called 'proper' open day I've ever been to.
I stayed over at Kasetty's* house the night before and had an early rise the next morning to drive all the way to Bristol in time for my 10 o'clock talk. My first impression was that it was a lovely city. As we drove through, I noticed the wonderful architecture, the diversity of the people, and most of all, the Banksy work. I think that if I were to apply to Bristol Uni, the city would be a big reason which would sway my decision. I did really like the talk given for Modern Foreign Languages (what I hope to read at university), but after the talk was over, I got the chance to really explore and look around.
Being a city uni, I had to trek quite a bit to get from one department to another. I'm sure that after a few weeks being there, I would get used to this, but it was quite tiring for a first-timer such as me. After looking around the Student Union (which has undergone refurbishments), Kasetty and I had a little tour of the city. There was a huge range of shops and little cafeterias (including a vegan bar which pleased K no end) - I would have really enjoyed spending a weekend looking around. I remember going to the Old Vic to see Jane Eyre with my friend Grace* a couple of years ago and I really liked the layout of the theatre, so if that's what you're into I would recommend seeing a performance there one day. 

Above is a picture from one of the quirky vintage shops Kasetty and I visited. I'm really disappointed that I can't recall the name of it, but it was along the main street heading towards Waitrose (wow, good one Mél). Anyway, this little boutique was by far the best shop that we visited. The downstairs part of it was a caféteria whilst the upstairs consisted of a mix of a bookshop, vintage clothes shop, and all round need-to-have goodies. The whole place gave off a young feel and I could have spent hours roaming around and spending more money than I own...

Another place we visited was the Bristol Museum and Art Gallery. I dragged my friend in here because a) I love art b) I love finding meanings to bland pictures and c) it was free. I'm fun to spend time with, I promise... My favourite floor was the second floor with all the art pieces where I finally got to see Noah's Ark by Jan Griffier the Elder which was a wonderful experience for me and I greatly enjoyed it.

If you're also considering Bristol Uni as one of your options, please don't hesitate to comment in the section below - I'd love to know what you thought of it!





* All names in this blog are fake in order to ensure the privacy of my friends and conceal their identities. However, the characters are all real people and the events actually happened

My First (proper) Time At Aruba

For those who thought that this would be a holiday post about the island off the Caribbean sea - sorry, I deceived y'all. Aruba is a restaurant/beach club overlooking Bournemouth beach and pier. I believe it's open to all ages up until around 8-9pm when it turns into an over 18 club, but up until then, it's a nice place to chill and drink over-priced drinks whilst looking out to sea.
The reason I said that this was my first so-called 'proper' time here was because I had previously gone there once before with my Spanish Class but we were all so intimidated by the over-crowded bar that we didn't order anything. We had walked up the stairs, sat on the sofas for 10 mins in a confused and flustered manner, then sneaked out in pairs to not look too suspicious and in case anyone realised that we had not ordered anything... I'm ashamed to say that this was less than 3 months ago.
Thankfully, this time was a little less awkward. It was my close friend Mae's* 18th birthday and we had booked a table in the far corner overlooking the sea (which I thought was kind of pointless as it was already dark when we had arrived and the doors let in an unwanted draft..but this was besides the point).

Above is a picture of my Aruba Caeser Salad with anchovies & Parmesan cheese, Crisp Cos lettuce with seasoned croutons (£8.95). I also got a cheeky bit of shredded chicken on top for an extra two quid, but I was quite disappointed in this as you can see it was just dumped on top of my salad very ungracefully. I would have preferred it to look a little nicer, and my friends' salads (Summer Salad, £9.95) weren't that aesthetically pleasing either. And, yes, we are those annoying white girls that go out to restaurants to eat and order salads. 


We stayed on a bit after we finished our meal and gossiped over Mae's birthday cake (first photo). Whilst at our table, this balloon artist came over and after some of my friends rudely questioned how much he would charge us for his unwanted service and sexual innuendos, he produced a lady bug headband for Mae! I asked him about himself and he said that Aruba paid him (and not us - phew), and that he used to just make balloon shapes as his 'party trick' but his friends encouraged him to start charging people as his skills developed and he became more proficient. At first, he dismissed their comments as he never really believed that anyone would pay for them, but then when he started to charge a small fee, his name got passed around and how he goes to different bars and clubs around Bournemouth. I really like finding out how people got into the jobs that they are in, and Balloon-Guy is just one example of someone who managed to turn his passion into a business!





*All names in this blog are fake in order to ensure the privacy of my friends and conceal their identities. However, the characters are all real people and the events actually happened 

Jet Pack Blues

It hasn't even been a week but I'm already nostalgic about France. I miss the country air, the scenery, and my best friend. She's off to uni this year and as I'm probably not returning to that area of France again, we may not ever meet again like goddamn vegans (Tyler please, this isn't the time).

I thought it would be nice to share with you some of the beautiful views I saw during my summer in France. They range from local lakes to the views across the valley - enjoy!

Our little village from the mountain top

View across the valley from a chambre d'hote

The lake of Puivert

Puivert Castle

Views from blackberry picking

Les Trois Piques

Another blackberry picking view

View from our veranda

Forest 

Le Toucan

When driving back to England, I had the opportunity to stop off and have a little walk around the town of Saint-Lo. I really like how friendly the people are in the North of France, and everything seems very clean. By searching on TripAdvisor, the Toucan had received very good reviews and my parents and I ventured there to try it out. It's a crèperie and therefore their dishes are based around pancakes, however they appeared to use a different batter for their main meals (a thick, savoury batter) to their deserts (a lighter, more delicate batter). Just the look of these photos make me want to go back!

Top Restaurant In Figures, Spain

For my parents' wedding anniversary, we decided to spend two nights in Figures, Spain, so that we could celebrate the date at our favourite restaurant, L'ou Dor. (LINK). It was a lovely occasion, and it's wonderful feeling when the waitresses remember us and the manageress comes and says a little "buenas tardes".
However, we've been to the restaurant more than a dozen times, and we decided that it was time we tried something new. Father searched up for other restaurants in Figures, and I was shocked to discover that L'ou D'or was ranked the 59th on Travelodge - 58 restaurants BETTER than L'ou D'or?! Impossible. Therefore, just to try it out, the next day we luncheoned at the top restaurant in Figures.
The outside appearance was nothing to rave about. In all honesty, it looked a bit like a coffee shop rather than a top restaurant. Whereas L'ou D;'or was in the town's backstreets, we had to travel slightly out of town to get to 9 Suprem. Thankfully, its location had its advantages as there was free parking everywhere.
I was also advised that one books a table in advance, and in hindsight I strongly recommend this, but us being us, we didn't and just turned up #yolo. But seriously, the first time we went there (yup, there was another occasion too!), we arrived just before they started serving for lunch, which was probably the only way we could have gotten a table since a few minutes later, the restaurant was packed. It was a pleasant surprise to note that 9 Suprem's customers were mostly locals. It just emphasises the fact that they weren't a typical "tourist" restaurant that charge extortionate prices for food which is obviously bought from the Carrefour down the road.
Despite the menu being in Catalan, (thus making it harder for me to translate since I only speak Spanish), our very kind water translated it for us. The next day, when we returned for a second time, he did this without hesitation, which was very nice of him.

I can't remember the exact names of each of the dishes, notably because they were in Catalan, but I had a salad with melted Camembert, followed by grilled chicken kebabs and then....the best tiramisu you'll ever taste. No joke, I had the exact same the next day and I do not regret it in the slightest. It was light, creamy and home-made. It was heaven in a jar, honestly.

I think the best part about the meal was that it was only *drum roll*, 10 euros each. 10 euros?! I know, I know. This included the amuse-bouche of olives and bread, as well as water and the house wine (a choice between red and rosé). God only knows how they're making a profit. It's hard to believe that the top restaurant in Figures is so cheap! If you ever have the chance to visit, please do, and order the tiramisu. And bring me back some too. Mhmm...

Ramblings #2

The smell of freshly ground coffee wafts through the morning air as I sit on the veranda looking listening to Frank Ocean. Sweet, sweet life - is it not? Agreed, at the beginning of summer holidays I'm somewhat of a pessimist as I see the blank calender endlessly stretch out, but a blink later and I find myself two weeks' away from re-starting sixth form. I'm going to be in upper-sixth, which despite being one of the 'top dogs' of school, also means that it'll be my last year at the establishment. Time flies like an arrow (...and fruit flies like a banana).

The Uni Prospectuses currently cover the living room floor and Mother keeps complaining how messy it looks. They're flooding in at the moment, and it amuses me to wonder what the postman must think they are as he stuffs four more packages into the tiny slit of our letterbox. Maybe this is what Harry Potter felt like in the Philosopher's Stone when he got hundreds of letters from Hogwarts... or not. Anyway, the majority of the summer has been spent highlighting and comparing each of the courses. The marketing departments have all done such a great job in promoting their unis that I've ended up very confused and wanting to apply to all of them. It's such a joke that 17/18 year olds have to choose a career path at this age. I can't decide what type of cereal to have in the mornings, let alone what I'm going to spend the majority of my adult life doing. Some courses, such as the Liberal Arts and Sciences course at Birmingham, enables students to basically 'pick n mix' their own degree courses. Whether one would want to do a bit of Maths alongside History of Art - whatever, you could do it. I thought that I had finally chosen my course until I saw the Entry Requirements of A*AA *cue for audience laughter*.

I mean, one doesn't /have/ to go to University. It's just the general route everyone goes down because it's what expected. As Felix Dennis says, 'keep to the track, to the beaten track'. But, but what about 'YOLO'? Okay, hear me out and don't think I'm going to go all Drake on y'all. Think of the concept of 'YOLO': You Only Live Once. Personally, I think that the term may be tarnished from young teens' misuse of the phrase. It doesn't justify doing immoral or illegal things, it just means that that you should do things that make you happy and not live in regret for not doing them (then again, if doing immoral and illegal things make you happy.....well, that's for another post). Let me give you an example. The majority of people have 'go skydiving' on their buckletlist. Why? Just like I wrote about here, it is one of those so-called 'sports' which give you a rush of adrenaline. However, when you ask Joe Bloggs in the street if he's ever fulfilled his dream, he'd probably say no. Why? Because he doesn't YOLO. He goes to his 9 to 5 job that'll keep his bills paid, but when he has free time, he sits at home watching Youtube videos of other people skydiving. Go out there, Joe Bloggs; save up and go fulfil your dream of throwing yourself out a moving plane 12,500 feet off the ground.

My friend Harrison* and I used to muse with the idea of truly 'YOLOING' our lives. He had this crazy idea, this crazy, crazy idea, of not going to Uni and just moving out to America, living on a farm, and livin' off of the fatta the lan'.. Living like a hermit, I suppose; being split off from the world and just being content in one's own little world. I mean, why go off to University just to write down on your CV that you have a degree in X? Isn't ignorance bliss? Obviously, when Harrison presented me with this idea I turned into a Geraldine's character from the Beautiful and Damned and replied "Cra-azy". He must have undoubtedly felt like an intellectual among a spoilt and callow youth. After all, he once wrote me a 1,500 word essay (or seemingly so) about a mule. Yeah, you read it right (luv u rly bby). In all seriousness, it was very interesting, and he made the analogy of how that mule didn't know about climate change nor about 9/11, nor any world problems for that matter. It would just go about its day, hell, its /life/, not knowing all those draining issues - but it would still be happy. Maybe we should all be like mules.

Anyway, my coffee appears to have brewed. After I pour it out, I'll no doubt go back to meticulously reviewing university prospectuses.

Mediterranean Markets

Call me cynical, but to me, most Mediterranean markets are the same. There's the same old pointless junk sold in each of the stalls, with overly-eager sellers (or, seemingly laid-back sellers who glare at you from afar) who are just gagging for your money. Plus, they can literally smell tourists from a mile off and bunk up their prices when they see yo' skinny white ass approaching. Have you not heard of bargaining, darling? I must admit that I used to be a bit fearful of doing so, perhaps after my first experience when I was 10 and my Father pushed me to ask for a lower price for some tacky hair band that most 10 year olds want, and the woman merely pierced her lips together and said "Non, petite. Allez, va t'en". This was condescending, and psychologically damaging as I didn't try to push market prices down for about 4 years until my ego recovered.

Nowadays, I rarely accept the suggested price on items I find at markets. After all, the price on an item is called an 'Offer to Treat', to give it its legal name. This means that the price that they place on the item isn't necessarily the one you settle upon. It is just an 'offer', as the name suggests. Occasionally, and this just goes to show how low my life has become, I enjoy bargaining with market sellers on items I don't necessarily want to buy; I like bargaining just to see how much percentage I can get off. Then again, this can go awfully wrong. The other day I felt like Johnny English trying to escape the crazy cleaner lady because I had to run away, literally run away from this guy who didn't get the hint that I didn't want to buy his tacky faux P'tit Marcel bag. I used the common excuse of "Oh, I'll be right back, I just have to get my money" but the idiot wasn't street wise enough to get the hint and followed five paces behind me until I escaped to some public bathrooms and stayed in there until I 100% knew he was no longer waiting for me outside. Tragic, I know.

Every time I go to markets, it's like I can already tell what is going to be there. There'll be the fruit section, the clothes section, and the trinkets section. I mean, c'mon, here's a check-list of people in markets that you can use to play 'I Spy' with.
 - a stall with tons of bracelets attached to cardboard poles
 - a fruit stall with melon samples which is covered with flies, but nobody seems to know the definition of hygiene as they happily stuff their face with the bacterial-ridden fruit
 - a mysterious white haired woman selling spiritual books and crystals
 - a guy with amazing dreadlocks, tattoos and piercings selling intense and Buddha statues (he often seems really, um, /high/ on life)
 - a token English couple selling some weird English stuff eg. scones, which nobody really wants bar other English people, who are often friends of the couple and who only buy their products out of pity
 - a stall with huge woven baskets in pretty colours, pretty designs and pretty big sizes
 - a stall with all the varieties of 'saucisson' there is, which includes tasters and is probably one of the most popular tables in the market until a little kid screams because there is the option to buy some little horsy meat too... which, by the way, is delicious
 - an organic honey store with tasters of bread and spoons to spread the honey on... again, very unhygienic - but who cares apart from the tourists?
 - a mobile pizza van which nobody really goes to
 - a stall selling bread that looks like rock hard plastic which would 'kneed' a strong set of teeth to eat, let alone a good deal of stomach acid to digest
 - a dench old guy who attends a surprisingly huge book store who insists on reading you Voltaire in a deep, calming voice... and thus convincing you to buy an anthology of French poems (true story)
 - second hand clothes 'stores' which looks like a bomb exploded in a teenage girl's wardrobe and then taken to the market and set out on a tressel
 - overly eager Moroccan men ready to sell you imitation leather bags and belts (reference to the story above)
 - and finally, the most random store which sells stuff ranging from mattresses, to kitchen utensils, to loom bands to zips...

If you've ever been to a Mediterranean market, did you recognise any of the people I mentioned above? If not, do comment others that you've seen so that I can add them to the list. This post has quite a negative view of markets, but there is a part of me, deep deep down, which actually likes them. I guess I like their ambiance, which one can't really get in England. I like the chaotic cries coming from the loud fruit sellers, the rush of people as they go from store to store, but what I love most of all, is spending my money buying all the pointless junk I find there.