My sincerest apologies for not posting in several days as I have been extremely busy galavanting through Europe with Lloyd's credit card and haven't found the time to sit down and record my explorations. But here I am yet again with many stories, some quite embarrassing, to convey on the world wide web.
It was recently brought to my attention that my grandparents are loving these blog posts, regardless of my sometimes inappropriate language so I would just like to take a second to say that bub, zaid, mama and papa you are all missed very much and loved even more!
Currently I am sitting in dear old room B427 in my wildfox sweats and tshirt, fuzzy slippers and a pounding headache. Regardless of it being 5 pm, this headache will seriously not subside. Unfortunately this headache is not from spilling over my mandatory readings on Man Ray, Duchamps or homosexuality in the Greek empire, but from a quite eventful evening on the Thames.
My evening began yesterday with a lovely dinner with three of my favorite young women from the Etingin family. We decided to test out a quaint English restaurant called Porters in the heart of Covent Gardens. The menu was all pie and mash, braised meats, puddings and two of our favorite dish names: beef faggots and spotted dick. No, we did not taste these due to the unappetizing titles and lack of adventurism in the department of British cuisine. I opted for the 3 bean and vegetable pie with a side of mash while Becky, Mandy and Milene tested out the braised veal shank, fish and chips and sirloin. All was very delicious and I would recommend this restaurant to anyone who wants a true local taste of England. My favorite part of the meal were the herbed mushrooms Becky and I started with. I honestly had no idea the Brits were so into mushrooms, one of my all time favorite vegetables, definitely warming up to their bizarre eating habits...
Veg Pie and Mash
Shrooms
Mandy helping out with the orienteering
Braised Lamb Shank
Running extremely late for my first formal UCL event I sprinted, well, tubed home as fast as I could, threw on a black mullet skirt, oversized white frilled blouse, tights, heels and some red lipstick and jumped in a cab to Temple Pier. Only took me about 30 minutes to find the boat while literally standing across the street from it. For some reason it really didn't occur to me to look on the actual water for the boat. Not my finest moment. Upon boarding, a large and in charge female security guard checked our bags for harmful items to confiscate such as hand guns, tasers, brass knuckles and chewing gum. Oddly enough she thought the youngins would try to smuggle drugs onto her ship in the guise of chewing gum. Probably didn't occur to this wise one that pockets would have been a simpler option. I feel her though, hundreds of drunken brits on a boat deck popping pills above freezing water does not sound wholly ideal.
As this party was hosted by the UCL rugby society, the bateaux was swarmed with handsome boys in tuxes, no joke, real penguin suits. Honestly wondering how these people think 4 pounds for a drink is expensive yet can afford a tuxedo... I'm pretty sure Lloydum doesn't even own one. But back to the party, it was like a scene right out of a movie, a formal event with dancing and drinking. But instead of Champagne and the Waltz it was tequila shots and David Guetta, but a girl can dream can't she? Best part was when the entire rugby team gathered and started reciting this bizarre tribal chant, slightly off-putting but really humorous, especially in a slightly intoxicated state. A minor set back to the evening was when I was out on the deck checking out the sights and some guy ashed his cigarette right next to me. Just my luck his ash lingered its way down INTO my shoe and left me with this slightly huge blister in the morning. 
ouch :(
And now I'm even more exhausted, not only from wobbling around all day trying not to pop this bad boy, but from a wild weekend in Paris filled of shopping, sight seeing, vino and pastries. Recalling every detail of my excursions through the city of love would both be time consuming and fairly boring for my readers, so I'll just fill you in on some of the highlights.
The trip began with a lovely train ride through the chunnel. Unfortunately I was seated backwards next to a german couple who were blabbering so loudly I think you could hear him them from the snack car... we were at the other side of the train. Not that I have anything against Germans, but it's kind of hard to eavesdrop when you don't speak the language. So I managed to move to the next carriage. But to my dismay the two security guards on board had convened a small but belligerent black lady to the compartment between the two carriages. Prior to her on-board arrest I saw her nursing a can of stella artois in her seat. Listening to this mad woman was one of the funniest things I have experienced thus far. She was telling every passenger that passed through she would miss them sooo much and to hurry back. She also attempted to seduce the two security guards and come onto them sexually. She even proposed to one of them and told him she would satisfy and never leave him. Seemed like a great offer to me... When they appropriately turned her down she began to wail like she was struggling through a tumultuous vaginal birth without an epidural. She was a keeper.
Arriving in Paris was a dream. It's a crazy concept that you can be in the most beautiful city in the world in only two hours underwater. Props to the engineers who thought that one up seriously. In true parisian fashion I was welcomed to le marais by my lovely friends Eden and Deanna for a night of wine and cheese, and wine, and wine, and some more wine. We made our way through the snow to a club called downtown café that was filled with students from all over Paris. I'm pretty sure the only non-students in attendance were some older gentlemen who bought the shmede and I some much appreciated drinks. We weren't complaining.
After a nice sleep in and a croissant from Hure (shmeedy's fave boulangerie) the next morning (/afternoon) it was off to the Louvre to explore the dutch wing solo. For those who hate my art ramble this is now the point in time where you scroll down and skip this nonsense. Some of my favorite pieces are below. To the left is me in front of the Louvre Glass Pyramids designed by architect I.M Pei (thanks wikipedia) in the main courtyard of the museum. 
Classic Dutch landscape by Patinir when depictions of land began to be more appreciated than the religious tales in the forefront in Dutch landscapes, wrote about this one in my Dutch Art final at McGill, love seeing pieces like this in real life!
Four of my favorites by Peter Paul Reubens from his Marie de Medici cycle. A huge room is filled floor to ceiling with the 24 pieces in his cycle. So overwhelming I started to cry.
Classic Adriaen Brouwer peasant scene, cuties drinking and smoking
Bottom left hand corner, random woman drawing the etherial female character in the painting almost perfectly. Had to sneakily take this one but worth it, so impressive.
van Ruisdael landscape
Rembrandt, the inventor of the selfie
Vermeer's seamstress, this work is the side of my shoe, so tiny and precious
Van Dyke's King Charles, notice how he tried to make him look tall and authoritative by having the horse lean downwards, but he was really a shrimp
Cuyp's cows, the dutch take their calcium very seriously
a classic Vermeer window piece
one of de Hooch's depictions of a women on the threshold of a house
a white washed de Witte post reformation church
Napoleon's dining room table... modest.
Ok now onto other things, Kev you can start reading again now. The Louvre, as always was a lovely experience. Except for a minor altercation in the woman's bathroom. I really had to pee so I picked the first stall that I saw was vacant. To my dismay I realized (with very poor timing after the fact) that there was no toilet paper... And so I ventured out and waited for the next stall to be free to grab some. However, in comes busting a large woman and her child who thinks she can just barge in front of me in line (rude.) So I say in french, excuse me madame but I was here first and then proceed to go into the open bathroom stall. Then this woman starts shouting that I am a disgusting girl and wouldn't let a child go pee before me. Usually I am all for child's rights but I didn't know how to explain the awkward situation that I needed some toilet paper stat, in french, to a big angry, screaming woman, so I cut my losses and .p.t.f.o of there, and later bought an eclair to ease my sorrows.
I'll try to narrate the rest of my experiences in Paris in pictures. But all in all had an amazing time with my friends, so lucky to have them and they were amazing hostesses, can't wait to go back... pending the snow meltage and maybe a train ticket sale on Eurostar.
Excuse if many of these are repetitive from facebook.
Paris, Louvre
Ta Sushi
Galeries Lafayette
favorite purchase, Guerlain lipstick
Sainte Chapelle
run in with some Chateaugay boys
L'as de Falafel in the Jewish Quarter, yummm
If you want to check out some more beautiful Paris pictures from this weekend, check out this blog! http://epriseaparis.tumblr.com/
Regardless of the amazing weekend in Paris, I finally feel like London is my home and returning home is always nice. Except sometimes I have to question why I live in this playhouse slash dorm hall... Not to elaborate on the urine theme of this post but I was just informed some guy in my corridor peed on someone else's door for changing the settings to his facebook notifications so he is now receiving over 300 a day... Gotta say, the punishment does not fit the crime because now my hall smells like pee and the rest of us have to suffer the consequences. Nothing a little victoria's secret body mist cant cover... I hope.
And so I'll leave you with this, classy invite slipped under my door to a student strip club night. Slightly disturbing, think McGill could swing one of these? I sincerely hope not.
Lots of Love,
Emy
